#pro-blocking

[toomanythoughts2]

do you consider yourself proship

Hi Anon. 👋

So, I'm going to be as specific as I can to answer this question so as to not misconstrue anything.

I do not follow the "Proship/Antiship" discourse as I believe it does more harm than good for the fandom at large.

I have watched from the sidelines what it has done to fandom on Tumblr, Twitter, Tiktok, and Instagram. This type of discourse has alienated, harmed, and scared genuine fans away from fandom. From what I have witnessed, I believe that this type of discourse has caused major harassment issues within fandom under the guise of good intentions. While the identifiers at first might have started off as something positive (A way to quickly pinpoint which blogs you'll mostly likely get along with based on shipping preferences), I do believe that is has turned itself into a tool to harm people. This does not mean that anyone who labels themselves Pro/Anti harm people or participate in the discourse itself, but that the discourse surrounding the identities have caused major issues. Whether or not you believe that to be true, understand that this is from my perspective.

I do not consider myself either one of these titles. I'm never going to label myself as one of them. As someone who has been here since before the "Mishapocalyse" of 2013, I have watched fandom literally evolve with the new generations. I have watched trends rise and fall, edits about different presidential elections starting with Obama, I've witnessed the creation of "Nice shoe laces." "Thanks I got them from the president." I have learned a thing or two about fandom, how it grows and changes and shifts.

And I have also learned how to curate, support, and ignore to create a safe space for myself in fandom.

As my pinned post states, I believe in a "Ship and Let Ship" mindset. I do not tolerate hate or bullying. If you want to label me as something, you can label me as "Anti-Harassment". Or, you can label me as "Pro-Blocking." I firmly believe in curating your fandom space around the blogs and people you enjoy listening to, enjoy looking at, and enjoy involving yourself with. For every fandom space I enter into, I always tell people what I'm about and if they don't enjoy that, then I always tell them to please block me. There is no point in being unhappy or being annoyed by my presence in your fandom space. I have also done the same thing, where if a person writes out what they're about and I don't like it, I block them. I've been a Season 1, Izzy Hands stan on Twitter before. I know exactly how to curate my fandom space.

Life is much too short to not block blogs that you don't like. Fandom space is what you make of it.

I do not condone shipping harassment, anon hate, bullying, or doxing. I do not believe in stalking blogs or screenshotting posts to edit them or dog-piling. I do not think it is valuable to spend our precious free time (less of which you have the more you grow) hating and harassing others about ships that you may not like or agree with. If you don't like something or if you don't agree with it, block that blog. You deserve to have a safe place within fandom that makes you happy.

This is not to say that I like or agree with every ship I encounter. There are plenty of ships in plenty of fandoms I have been a part of that I didn't or don't like. Not once though, have I ever harassed or harmed a person over a ship. I learned how to curate my space so that I wouldn't see these ships. Blocking and black listing tags helped me avoid certain areas of fandom. For that, I created positive and rich online spaces where I could grow and enjoy my part of the fandom. These spaces were the best parts of my childhood.

This doesn't mean I can't stop liking a ship once I got into it. Many ships that I once shipped as a child or a teenager (or hell, even last week), I can look back on and go, "Oh, actually, maybe I don't like this after all." I am allowed to grow and change my mind on certain ships the older I get. All people are allowed to change their minds.

Anon, my blog here is simply to have fun, write my little posts, and put up my crudely done art. The Metalocalypse fandom has been incredibly kind to me these last couple of months, especially as a new fan of the show. I truly have so much fun every time I log on here and look at the engagement within the tags. I have not been on Tumblr in a long time so to see such an active community, a kind and thoughtful community at that, it fills me with happiness. I forgot how much fun creating and being a part of a fandom community like this can be. I enjoy creating and talking and learning and sharing and laughing with others about our silly little band. I am eternally grateful for every bit of engagement within the community, no matter how small or large.

Anon, I would not enjoy my life on Tumblr nearly as much if I did not curate it that way.

I am 26 years old, Anon. As an American woman, I have a good 53~ years left in me before I croak, less than that if I am unable to get healthcare. I simply do not want to waste a moment of my free time worrying or getting upset about things I can not change or ships I don't like. Especially not when there is so much more to the fandom that I do like, that I love. I want to spend my time surrounded by a community that I enjoy being around and enjoys having me around.

My dear Anon, I will not label myself as either one of these identities. At any time that you look at my blog and do not enjoy my presence, I implore you to block me. Curate the space that you want based on their presence in the community, not by an identifying marker.

I'm sorry if this isn't the answer you're looking for but, to me, it's my honest answer to your question. Have a good day, Anon.

Ok, bye, love you <3

Tl;dr: Love what you love. Block what you don't. Enjoy your life. Curate your fandom space.

[oldmanpusspuss]

I still think its the funniest shit ever that when I used to volunteer at planned parenthood every week even though I walked past mostly the same protesters every single time they were begging me not to get an abortion theres other options yadda yadda. Like meemaw you see me here every week. They call me abortions georg because I get another one every Monday at 8am

[kylominis]

matching couple outfit [💑]

[thematicparallel]

Dr. Jack Abbot (The Pitt) — An Iliad, Lisa Peterson & Denis O'Hare

[editedantiendoposts]

It's THIS simple:

[proshippers-against-censorship]

sick of new-wave underage proshippers thinking they HAVE to enjoy all forms of "problematic media" to be considered proship. i myself am proship, however, cant stand loli/shota. makes me uncomfortable, triggers me, hence why i dont interact with it. im sick of seeing kids literally forcing themselves to interact with all aspects of dark fiction just because theyre proship. its okay to have discomforts. its okay to have limts, as long as you accept not everyone feels the way that you do. idk if this makes sense. im tired. glad to see the proship community thriving anyway.

Say it louder.

Scream it.

[yappacadaver]

are u pro-thing or anti-thing. u must be one or the other and NOTHING ELSE also u must declare publicly so me and all my friends can decide whether or not to treat you like dirt/an active threat. if you don't declare adequately i'll take it as you being on the wrong side. if u declare adequately but surreptitious social audits provide contrary evidence, i will take it as you being on the wrong side. also i hate fascism btw

[spreadwardiard]

I used to be truscum. You know, transmedicalism. I am trans, I genuinely believed that all nonbinary and non dysphoric trans people were faking being trans for attention. I argued that one required dysphoria to be considered trans. I fake claimed trans supporters of non binary people. I made claims that because they weren't suffering like I was, they were making a mockery of what I was experiencing.

I asked the question: Why would anyone who wasnt dysphoric go through this unless for attention? I accused them of stealing resources from 'legitimately' trans people. I accused them of being transphobic. Of wearing my identity as a costume to feel special. I had stories of a single individual nonbinary person who hurt me that I used to paint all nonbinary people as predatory. I accused happy trans people of faking because how could they like how they look and find joy and whimsy in what was to me nothing but suffering and pain.

I was blatently wrong about ALL of this. So when I say that anti-endos are the same as transmeds, this is where Im coming from. The arguments are EXACTLY the same ones I was making to excuse my own bigotry towards a group of people I didn't understand: nonbinary and non dysphoric trans people. I have yet to see a single anti-endo stance that doesnt have a direct parallel to the bigoted stuff i used to say when I was sipping the truscum koolaid.

[justmebeingabitch]

One of the things I particularly love about jedi and that gives me hives when people get wrong is their attitude towards attachment (and I mean what THEY mean when they say attachment which I suspect is a faulty ish translation in the "listen it's not perfect but it's the best word there is in your language" sense)

If Anakin loved Padme instead of just being attached he would have 1 dream of her dying and go straight to the healers to ask for a medical examination no matter what he thought the council would do because love is selfless so as long as she was fine what would it matter? But he's attached so she doesn't actually matter just this idea of their relationship so even while thinking he may be causing her death he doesn't open his trap

Yoda fucking asked and Anakin lied to his face! Worse! Jedi are able to tell when someone's lying so Yoda knew he was lying and respected his boundaries!

#YodaShouldHaveWhackedAnakinOnTheHead

Everybody in the goddam franchise acknowledges the Jedi love but some people in the real world have skulls apparently made of bricks

[cherry-pop-elf]

New Chapter

Anya x Reader

Can be read as platonic because we all want the best for her

SUM: Anya gets an abortion so you and the rest of the crew wait for her. You were the first one, however, to see her after surgery. Also because fuck you, abortion rights

Warnings: Abortion, sexual assault, jimmy, medical situations, abortion rights, domestic happy family

“How long is it gonna take?” Daisuke asked, as he was worried but also excited. Excited for Anya to feel better. Worried for well….Not like he’s had the best reactions to medical situations. Example A being Curly in the wheelchair next to him.

Curly was doing so much better now that he was actually on the planet again. The doctors were still jaw dropped that Anya was able to keep him alive with so little. Was not only a testimony to how she refused for him to die, but him refusing to leave his crew behind as well. It’s still a long journey ahead, but he was in clean bandages and clothes at least. Was even able to talk again. Sorta. Rather raspy but he will get there.

Jeez where to start on how you all got here to begin with.

“She’s going to be fine. Abortion is way less invasive than you think. It really depends on how far along, but luckily she isn’t too far for it to be to extreme. Not sure what type she went for, but whatever she chose she chooses. Just grateful we were able to return home before she reached to far along.” You would admit, as you would check up on Curly’s IV bag for him. Taking over Anya’s roll until she could return.

“Ya know….My wife had an abortion.” Swansea said, and it made all of you look over to him in pure surprise.

“What’s the funny look for? Ya think I’m a freak that would refuse my wife that? She needed it! The kid just….It ain’t my place, but the kid just wasn’t gonna survive. Either she carried it to term and die with em, or she just skips the heart ache. Not like it was her fault. We got two healthy girls at the end of the day. We got em because she got rid of that fucked up one.” He explained, as Daisuke seemed wide eyed in respect.

Explains why he snapped more clearly.

Anya had explained to Swansea what had happened, and before you pre Daisuke knew it Jimmy’s head was sliced off and rolling across the kitchen floor. Poor Suke threw up all over you from the sight, and shock. Then threw up again when he learned why he did such a thing. Lots of puking and crying. Fitting.

“Glad that damn company is dead. Whose wise idea was it to have a single woman surrounded by men. No offense you two-“ Curly would wheeze, before you would help him take his medication. Sure is easier to take pills when you actually give him water and take it slow. No choking or crying.

“Thats a can of worms I don’t want us to talk about.” Swansea would scoff. As a father to two girls he had a lot of things to say. Daisuke would be willing to listen, sure, but honestly you all had enough emotional fatigue to last multiple life times.

Thank god Curly was so high up on the food chain at the company. They knew they would get into more hot water if their, once, top captain suddenly vanished. Wouldn’t make their bankruptcy any smoother. For once they did the right thing and sent Simeon to save them.

Funny. A capitalist corporate organization took responsibility for their actions. For the right reasons? No. But they still took it. Strange. Isn’t it?

“Is she done yet?” Daisuke would whine, as you laughed at his childish nature. As if waiting on a sister to get out of the dentists office. You found it rather endearing honestly. That despite it all he was still having a heart full of love and excitement.

“Go play on your toy.” Swansea would grumble, as Suke whined. Regardless he would pull out his game boy. A nice excuse to play video games with out any guilt on wasting his time. Enjoying life shouldn’t be a burden.

“Need anything, Curly?” You would ask him, since you planned on going to the bathroom. Yeah Swansea and Daisuke could handle him, but you still wanted to be polite. Maybe you could grab him something from the vending machines. Maybe a soda. Some sugar in his system would do him good. Anya said that sugary bubble water of some kind, like sprite, can help quite a lot with indigestion.

“I should be fine. Thank you for asking though. Sorry you have to…” He would admit, as he looked himself over. His missing limbs now properly covered up with fabric to keep them clean, and allow him some kind of independence. The fabric on the stumps were padded. With enough practice and effort he would certainly be able to roll himself around.

Then again this was a world of space travel. He was going to get cyborged eventually, but you need to be healed first before such an intense operation. Can’t rush something like this.

“Hey. I do it because I can. Not because I have to. You are our captain. Let me be a good solider.” You teased him, and even in his broken face you could see a smile.

Swansea have you a head nod to indicate he would ‘take care of the boys’ and you were off to use the restroom.

Once done with that you would grab a soda from the vending machine for Curly, a bag of candy for Daisuke, and some pretzels for Swansea. As you were making your way back a nurse would motion you over.

“Miss Anya was asking for you. She has finished her operation, and wanted you to see her.”

You were surprised at that. You expected Curly to be her first guest. Did something go wrong? Oh you couldn’t help but freak out.

You followed after the nurse quickly, and all you were shown was Anya resting in her hospital bed. Tired, but relieved. Mostly. You saw that familiar stress in her eyes. That same stress she had when asking you if she made the right choice in asking Jimmy for help with medicating Curly.

That worry of if I did the right thing.

The nurse would leave you to alone, and you would quickly set the snacks aside. Now you were sitting next to her, in a chair, and holding her hand. Ready to be the shoulder she needed.

“Hey there Doc. How you doing?” You asked her, as you carefully stroked the back of her hand. Made sure to be mindful of all the tubes and wires.

“Well….It went far smoother than I expected. It was just so quick. They didn’t even need to put me under. The IV is more so for the issues I already had because of being stranded on the ship for so long. It was just so quick. So painless. Was just like pulling a thorn out of an arm. It was….Simple.” She would try and explain to you. Needing to make sure to stop herself before using doctor jargon.

“Too easy?” You puzzled.

“Yes. It was just….I expected pain. Pain and anxiety and horror. Suppose even a nurse can come to learn a thing or two…..”

She was hiding something, and you had an educated guess on what.

“You expected Jimmy to break down the door. Weren’t you?”

There was silence, but it told you everything.

“Scoot over. Move it sister-“ You were now crawling into the medical bed with her, moving the wires around, and soon snuggled into her side. Hugging her close, and especially with your arm over her stomach.

“You did the right thing. It’s your body at the end of it all. You took responsibility of taking care of yourself. You wouldn’t have been able to live a proper life. You went to med school. You don’t need me to tell you the horrors of pregnancy and birth. That alone is terrifying. But also you simply not wanting to be pregnant is enough. Ain’t no Jimmy’s gonna storm in and say otherwise.” You huffed, as she smiled. Her head leaning into yours.

“Yeah….No more Jimmy’s. Pretty sure Swansea will make sure of that.” She did her best to joke, and you were proud of her for it. This whole ordeal was hell. Hell none of you will ever truly walk away from. But that’s ok. You all had each other to lean on.

“I think I’m ready for everyone now.” Anya would whisper, as you gave her hand a squeeze. You were so proud of her. This was all such a nightmare, but she’s taking it in stride.

“Hell yeah.” You agreed, before climbing out of the bed. You made sure to grab the snacks, and exited the hospital room.

“Come on guys-! Anya is waiting on you-!” You shameless shouted outside of the room. She couldn’t help her face palm. Daisuke sure was an influence on you.

“I wanna push Curly!”

“Like hell you are-!”

They would bicker away, before Curly said ‘fuck it’ and did his best to roll himself over. He sure was a stubborn one. Made it half way before you figured that was enough work out for one person.

“Pretty far! Getting better at it-!” You encouraged, as the two men realized how far Curly rolled off on before finally following you two into Anya’s room.

“HAPPY NO BIRTH-DAY!” Daisuke would cheer, as Anya shook her head at such a joke.

“God dammit kid-“ Swansea side, before he came over to Anya. Giving her head a kiss. Just comforting her much like a father would.

“How many of us need to be in medical beds?” Curly would give a raspy snort, as Anya reached her hand out. He would lean his head over, and she would give it a stroke. As if all his hair never burned off. A means of holding his hand, in a way, compared to just grasping a limb.

She didn’t need children.

She had all of you.

What else could a woman want?

Since you were willing to read through this story to the end, and get a nice in depth look on the importance of such why not donate to some organizations? : D

Planned Parenthood

Nation Network For Abortion Funds

National Abortion Federation

The Bridge Alliance

The Satanic Temple

ActBlue

No worry on donating. Spreading awareness and signing petitions still help! The more people learn and understand the better! Could also like reblog with other organizations or petitions!

Abortion is healthcare!

[svearehnn]

where flowers go to die | azriel x reader

Summary: Years ago, Azriel was dying on the battlefield, his shadows fading with his heartbeat. She was the Inner Circle’s quiet healer—steady hands, warm laugh, and fiercely in love with the spymaster who didn’t yet know he was hers. In desperation, she made a bargain with Koshei: Azriel’s life for her gift.

She survived the war, but everything she touched afterward began to rot. Her hands, once known for healing, now spread decay. Ashamed and cursed, she vanished into the wilds, letting the world believe she’d died in the chaos of war.

Now, strange withering magic has begun creeping across the Night Court’s border. Azriel is sent to investigate. When he finds the source…it’s her.

Content Warning: descriptions of injury, angst

The wilds did not treat her kindly. But then again, they were never known to be kind. They were thick with dread and rot, Koshei’s reign seeping through every root. Once, she had walked through forests that bloomed at her touch. Now, they recoiled, green turning black beneath her every step.

Even though Koshei had been dead for a century now, his death magic still lingered in her veins—in the tattoo that now marred her skin like a scar, in the way the trees seemed to whisper warnings as she passed. 

She tried to stick to old paths, ones that had already turned barren beneath her, but they still did not welcome her. Stones shifted beneath her boots. Branches sagged, gray-limbed and brittle, as if bowing under the weight of her presence. Under the weight of what she had done.

Each step she took left ruin in her wake. Petals curled. Grass withered. A trail of blackened soil marked where her feet had passed, and still she walked—slowly, steadily—toward the crumbling shrine she’d found years ago. The only place the rot didn’t spread quite as fast. As though the stone, ancient and solemn, held a memory of who she used to be.

She was wrapped in layers of thick green wool, gloves pulled high over her wrists despite the early summer heat. The hood cast shadows over her face, not that anyone ever saw her now. Not that anyone ever should.

She’d buried her name long ago. Left it somewhere in the snow outside Velaris, the night she made the bargain.

But she still remembered his.

Azriel.

His name lived in her like marrow. She tried to forget it. The way his blood had soaked her hands. The way his shadows had curled around her ankles, gentle as breath, even as his eyes fluttered shut and she felt the bond lock into place—quiet and devastating.

He hadn’t known. He never had the chance to.

That was the point.

She had bargained with a god of decay, gave up everything she was so the male she loved could live. She never thought she’d survive it. Never thought she’d walk out of that battlefield, her gift twisted into something monstrous, her hands cursed.

Now, everything she touched died.

And still, she kept breathing.

Still, she dreamed of him.

Still, she walked through a forest that hated her, carrying the unbearable ache of a bond that only went one way.

Until today.

Because today, the forest paused. It’s whispers ceased, as though it was holding its breath. She felt it first through the soles of her boots, the low hush that fell over the trees. Then her own heartbeat, rising. Then something more—an itch between her shoulder blades. A pull in her chest, like a string finally going taut.

Her breath caught.

The shadows moved.

And she knew he had found her.

Her eyes widened just a fraction, her hand reaching for her chest. She couldn’t let him see her like this.

So she hid, just as she always did—within the fading trees, behind gnarled, rotted trunks—and she watched. 

She saw his shadows before she saw him. They furled in like clouds of dark mist, low to the ground. He walked within them, silent as the night, his own eyes searching. Azriel eyed the rot that seemed embedded into the land, inhaled the death that wafted in the air. But he didn’t stop to analyze. 

His gaze was set on the shrine and the sigils that glowed cobalt blue upon it. His gloved fingers traced the etchings, breath hitching in his throat. He recognized the curling loop of her name hidden within them, and it made his blood run cold.

A name that hadn’t been spoken in a century. A name that had become a scar on his heart.

He hadn’t said it aloud since the day they lost her. Not even to himself.

Azriel pulled his hand back slowly. His shadows were already crawling outward—low to the forest floor, quiet, curious. They moved like they did when they sensed something almost familiar. Not danger. Not an enemy. Rather, something his shadows knew was missing.

He turned, scanning the trees. There was no breeze, no birdsong. Just the stillness of a forest that held its breath.

And then—a hitch.

The smallest sound. A breath drawn too sharply, a heartbeat out of rhythm with the woods.

His shadows paused. One tendril curled around the edge of a rotted trunk, brushing against the hem of a dark green cloak.

He said nothing at first. Just… looked.

Even hidden in shadow—even after all these years—he knew.

He knew the shape of her. The way she stood like she was always bracing herself. The way her magic, once golden and warm, now sank into the earth like poison.

Azriel’s voice came softly. Like a blade being drawn.

“I thought you were dead. We all did.”

He didn’t move—didn’t dare. He just stood there, staring at the hollow between the trees where he could see the slightest glimpse of a boot.

She stayed silent even as her heart pounded in her chest, her eyes welling with tears.

“I shouldn’t have come,” he admitted. “I was following the rot. The way it spreads like—” He stopped himself. The words felt cruel now.

His voice softened. “But I didn’t expect it to feel like you.”

That made her flinch.

She pressed her back to the tree, clutching the edge of her cloak like a shield. She had imagined this moment a thousand times. In dreams, in nightmares. She’d imagined him furious. Grieving. Confused.

But she hadn’t imagined this.

Azriel sounded… lonely.

She shut her eyes. Her breath trembled in her chest. The bond, ever present, pulsed weakly under her ribs like an old wound that never healed.

He didn’t know.

Of course he didn’t. And he could never.

Because if he knew—if he felt it now—it would destroy her. Because it wouldn’t be real. He’d think it was some cruel twist of the Cauldron, some pity-thread tugged too late.

So she stayed quiet.

Azriel sighed through his nose, and something in it was so heartbreakingly tired.

“I just wanted to know,” he said, “if you were still breathing.”

A pause.

Then he turned—slowly, deliberately—and walked back to the shrine.

He didn’t see the way her hands shook. Didn’t hear the ragged breath she bit down. Didn’t feel the bond quiver with every step he took away.

But she watched. She saw the way his wings drooped; the effort it took for him to keep them from dragging on the forest floor. The shadows still searching around him, not with suspicion—but with something softer. Familiar.

He didn’t leave. Of course he didn’t.

Azriel wasn’t the kind of male who walked away from ghosts.

He stayed near the shrine, tracing the sigils with a gloved hand. His presence was like a balm to her soul. Yet, even as the bond tugged her closer, begging her to run into his arms, she couldn’t move. She refused to.

She didn’t save him just for him to die by her own wretched hands.

Her throat tightened. Her gloved hands curled into fists.

She heard him speak again—quiet, like he was willing the wind to carry his words to her.

“I know you’re there.”

She swallowed thickly. A shadow brushed her ankle, curling around it. She took a shuddering breath. She could keep hiding. Let him think it was just grief. Just memory.

But he deserved more than that. He’d always deserved more than what she gave him.

So she stepped out.

It was only one step. Her hood still drawn, her hands still hidden. But it was enough. Azriel’s breath caught audibly.

He turned, and for the first time in ten years, his eyes met hers. He didn’t say anything at first. Didn’t move. Didn’t run. Just… looked.

Like he was afraid to blink.

Her voice came thin and brittle. “You weren’t supposed to find me.”

Azriel shook his head slowly. “Then you should’ve hidden better.”

She let out a broken sound—a laugh, or maybe a sob. She didn’t know.

“I’m not who I was,” she whispered. “Not anymore.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t.”

He took one step closer. Carefully. Like approaching a wounded animal.

“I don’t care.”

She blinked.

Azriel’s voice didn’t tremble when he said, “You’re alive. That’s all I care about right now.”

The bond pulsed beneath her skin. But still—he didn’t feel it. And she said nothing. She couldn’t risk losing this moment, not even for the truth she so desperately ached to speak into existence.

She didn’t mean to lead him to her.

She meant to keep her distance. To stand in the shadows, let him see her just long enough to prove she was breathing, and disappear again before the rot remembered it could devour everything she loved.

But then Azriel moved—just a few steps, never closer than she could tolerate. His shadows followed her, not him. They brushed her wrist, the hem of her cloak, the edge of her gloves. They didn’t recoil.

She said nothing as she turned toward the shrine. He fell into step behind her.

The earth beneath her blackened, dead things curling inward as she passed. But when she reached the ancient stone and laid a hand upon its mossy edge, the rot didn’t spread.

Azriel said nothing, though she could feel his gaze fixed on her back.

“This is the only place it doesn’t follow me,” she murmured.

His voice was gentle. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe it remembers who I was. Maybe the magic here is stronger than mine. Or maybe… maybe this is where the gods go to forgive things.”

She didn’t know why she said that. Maybe she just wanted someone else to say it was possible.

Behind her, Azriel exhaled like he was steadying himself. “I remember these sigils. You used to draw them in the sand outside the House of Wind. I never knew what they meant.”

She nodded, one hand still on the stone.

“They’re meant for old magic,” she said. “The kind that bargains. The kind that takes more than it gives.”

Azriel was quiet for a long time.

Then, softly: “Is that what happened to you?”

She flinched.

When she turned, her hood slipped just enough that the edge of her face was visible in the dying light. He stepped closer without thinking—half a foot between them, his eyes searching hers.

“I can’t be near people,” she whispered. “I destroy things. I can’t control it. I—”

Her voice broke.

“I tried to save you.”

The words were out before she could stop them. Her heart lurched. Not the whole truth. Not the bond. Just the first crack in the dam.

Azriel’s expression didn’t change—but something in the air did.

A pull. Sharp. Low in her ribs. For one heartbeat, she thought—No. No, not now.

But it faded just as quickly. A flicker. A whisper.

Azriel blinked once, brows pulling slightly together. He looked at her like he felt something, too—but didn’t know what it meant.

She stepped back instinctively. “Don’t.”

He followed.

“I don’t care about the rot,” he said. “I don’t care what bargain you made. I care that you’re here. That you came back.”

“I didn’t come back,” she said, almost choking. “I was never meant to be found.”

He reached out—not to touch her, but to be closer. His shadows swept between them like a tide.

“Too bad,” he said gently.

She froze.

“I already found you.”

The words lingered like mist between them. She hated how warm they made her feel.

Azriel stood a foot away now, close enough that the edge of his shadows brushed her boots like a question. The silence stretched. His gaze searched her face, trying to understand something she hadn’t spoken aloud in over a century.

“What happened to you?” He asked, quieter this time.

Her stomach twisted.

“I told you,” she said, voice flat. “I made a bargain.”

“You said you tried to save me,” Azriel murmured, hazel eyes gazing into hers with a kindness she hadn’t seen in years. 

She looked away as she felt that familiar knot rise up in her throat. Her eyes squeezed shut as a shaky breath left her lips.

“Please don’t make me say it.”

Azriel’s voice softened further. “Why not?”

Her hands trembled. Her gloves were old, worn thin in the fingers. Her magic pulsed underneath, black and ruinous.

“Because if I say it out loud,” she whispered, “I’ll never come back from it.”

Azriel didn’t move. But she felt something shift in the air—again. That pull. That ache in her chest, like a violin string plucked once and left to ring.

The bond.

Cauldron, not now.

She turned her head away. “You should go.”

“No,” he said, firm but not unkind. “I won’t. You don’t have to tell me everything. But I won’t leave you here. Not again.”

Not again.

The words undid something in her.

“I was the only healer left,” she said suddenly. The confession slipped out like blood from a wound. “We were losing. I was trying to save too many at once. And then… and then you went down.”

Azriel stiffened.

She didn’t stop, even as tears blurred her vision. She had to look away—she couldn’t see his face.

“Your chest was open. Your wings were shredded. There was too much blood. Too much. I knew I wouldn’t reach you in time. And the bond—” she swallowed hard—“it snapped.”

He blinked.

“What?”

“I felt it,” she whispered, voice quivering. “And I knew—I knew you never would. You were dying. I couldn’t let you go.”

Azriel stared at her.

She shook her head violently, stepping back. “Don’t say anything. Just—don’t.”

But his shadows surged suddenly—not menacing, not cold. Just startled. His breath hitched.

The air thickened.

A hum between them. Low. Old. Alive.

His hand lifted slightly, like his body was reacting before his mind could.

And the bond flickered again. Harder—like a heartbeat. Like a second heart awakening under the first.

She gasped softly, turning away with a hand clutched to her chest.

“I traded my magic,” she said hoarsely. “To Koshei. To keep you alive.”

A sad laugh bubbled from her throat. “I thought I wouldn’t survive—I wasn’t supposed to. But now look at me. I’m a walking plague. Everything withers away at my touch.”

She swiftly wiped her cheeks, destroying the evidence of her sorrow. He stepped closer.

“Not everything.” 

She glanced up just as a shadow curled around her arm. It was content to be there, unburned, unafraid. 

“I’ll hurt you,” she murmured, her voice so small—so certain.

Her gaze was wary as she watched him step closer, the toes of his boots tapping against hers. It made the blood freeze in her veins.

“I don’t think you will.”

And then his hand lifted, cupping her cheek—she expected the rough leather of his gloves, but all she felt was the warmth of his palm, scarred and steady.

Her eyes widened. She flinched, ready to bolt, but he wouldn’t let her.

“Am I withering?” He whispered, voice barely a whisper. “Am I rotting?”

Azriel’s lips brushed hers like the sweetest lullaby. 

The bond pulled taut in her chest. She leaned into his touch, breath catching, eyes fluttering shut. His thumb swept against her bottom lip in a gentle caress.

“Open your eyes, my mate.”

She did. And beneath her boots, the earth bloomed. Soft green shoots curled from the blackened soil. Tiny buds unfurled like hope from ashes. Flowers—violets and blues—burst into being where decay once reigned. A laugh fell from her lips and he swallowed it with his own.

His hand slid around her neck, pulling her into him as though anchoring himself to the world again. She clutched his tunic like he might vanish if she were to let go.

The bond glowed around them like a thousand fireflies at dusk. The sigils on the shrine flickered once, then faded to rest.

And in the place where flowers came to die, life began again.

[clearancecreedwatersurvival]

Is anyone gonna explain to people that ‘proship’ does not actually mean ‘problematic shipping’ or ‘problematic ship’ or are we just going to let this misinformation spread some more?

It means pro-shipping. The prefix pro, meaning ‘supporting.’ In favor of shipping.

It only became a defined position after anti-shippers who initially identified themselves as anti-a specific ship started harassing creators they didn’t like, doxxing them, and trying to get them fired from their irl jobs for shipping reasons around 2014-2016.

So people who had been in fandom for long enough to know where that kind of rhetoric leads (ffnet purges, LJ strikethru, as well as the direct harms caused by doxxing) observed this increasing trend of harassment and rallied to say ‘oh you lot are anti-shipping, as in opposed to certain ships? Well in that case, we are pro-shipping, because we follow the adage of ship and let ship.’

Before that point, it was just basic fandom etiquette to not bother people who ship stuff you don’t like, and to understand that if something squicks you out, it’s not the fault of the people who made it.

If someone says they are pro-ship, it means fuck all about what they actually enjoy in fiction.

It just means they’re opposed to harassing creators for making content that doesn’t cause tangible harm to real people. A better way to understand the ideological position is being anti-harassment and anti-censorship.

I have a lot of ships I find disgusting blacklisted so I don’t have to see them. But I am not interested in forcing people to comply with what I think is gross. That’s what it means.

Curate your online experience, and understand that your disgust response is not a defensible moral indicator or a justification to harass, deplatform, and dox fan writers.

[fight-nights-at-freddys]

Ah yes, i LOVE homophobia…

[system32sys-hub]

Shoutout to Black systems!

Shoutout to Brown systems!

Shoutout to Asian systems!

Shoutout to Indigenous systems!

Shoutout to mixed race systems!

Shoutout to fat (not just chubby or palatable fat) systems!

Shoutout to physically "unhealthy" (unhealth is a redundant concept; learn more about healthism) systems!

Shoutout to physically disabled systems!

Shoutout to intellectually disabled systems!

Shoutout to systems with personality disorders!

I love you. You are part of the backbone of this community, and I am so grateful that you would be a part of it. You're not seen enough in this community, and I will always fight and advocate for one where you are.

Love yourself today, in whatever way that looks and feels like for you personally. And ideally, love yourself tomorrow and beyond too.

Radqueers, TransID, and proship DNI

[sweetaplle]

i love getting into anti endo fyp just to see how stupid and closedminded people can be. is this supposed to be satire? there's no way someone can actually say this stuff with a straight face lmfao

saw someone saying in their tags "all my homies hate endos" well fuck you then! i don't want to be near your "homies" <3

saw a post that was like "oh fuck help me i'm in endo land please antiendos interact" see, it's funny cause i saw the exact same post in the endogenic side of things with the roles flipped! how curious

saw an originclaim post that had the most hostile antiendo stuff for no reason saying endos apparently can't use simplyplural or anything like that? strange! then what's my simplyplural account doing? better go shut it down!

this stuff just doesn't even affect me anymore i just block any post that has "anti endo" in the tags. though it has gotten me slightly on edge when i look at the tags of a pro endo post and see "anti endo dni" (like on this post) cause my mind filters out "dni" for a second

anyways, if you're aggressively anti endo and you interact with this post, fuck you! endogenic systems can be systems without trauma! let people be who they be and i'll let you be you as well, but as long as you oppose me about it, you're going straight to my blocked list. and if this ends up on systemcringe, hiiiiiiiii! :3

[jackcryptid]

This is your (un)friendly reminder that Snape wanted to die after Lily's passing :D