#‘just write better’ is an incredibly harmful statement to make

[kuroosdarling]

reminder: you and your writing are more than good enough. screw anyone that makes you and your amazing talent feel any less than they are. i’m so proud of you for continuing to write and produce content on here. sending love to those who are having a tough time right now. <3

just because you are unaffected by a certain situation doesn’t mean you can talk over the voices of those who are and try to negate their feelings.

[sassydefendorflower]

I want to talk about something. I want to talk about ableism in fandom. And sexism in fandom. Oh, and racism in fandom.

Mostly though, I wanna talk about how the discussion about these things often gets derailed because people don't understand what trends and typical behaviors actually are.

Whenever a Person of Color, a woman, someone disabled, someone queer (or an intersection of any of these groups) points out that certain fandom trends are bigoted in some shape or form, half the replies seem to be "but they are my comfort character! Maybe people just like them better because they are more interesting!" or even "people are allowed to have headcanons!" - the very daft even go for a "don't bring politics into fandom" which is a personal favorite because nothing exists in a vacuum and nothing is truly apolitical. But alas~

What most of these replies seemingly fail to understand is something very, very simple: it's not about you.

You, as an individual, are just one datapoint in a fandom. You are not the trend. You do not necessarily depict the typical behavior.

When someone points out that there is racism in fandom, that doesn't mean every fan is racist or perpetuating racist ideas*. By constantly mentioning your own lack of racism, quite often, you are actively derailing the conversation away from the problems at hand.

When someone names and describes a trend, they don't mean your headcanon specifically - they mean the accumulated number of headcanons perpetuating a harmful or outdated idea.

I am not saying this to forbid anyone from writing fics about their favorite characters or to keep anyone from having fun headcanons and sharing their theories and thoughts - quite the opposite actually. A critique of a general trend is not a critique of you as an individual - and you're going to have a much better, and more productive, time online if you can internalize that. If you stop growing defensive and instead allow yourself to actually digest the message of what was pointed out.

I am saying this to encourage some critical thinking.

Allow me to offer up some examples:

Case 1: A DC blogger made the daring statement that maybe Tim and Jason were such a popular fanfic focus because they are the only two undeniably white batboys. Immediately someone replied saying "no, it's all the fun traumatic situations we can put them in!". Which is an insane statement to make, considering the same can be said for literally ANY OTHER DC Batman and Batfam character.

The original post wasn't anything groundbreaking, they didn't accuse anyone, didn't name any names... but immediately there was a justification, immediately there was a reason why people might like these characters more. No one stopped to take a second and reflect on the current trends in fanfiction, no one considered that maybe this wasn't a declaration against people who like these characters but a thesis depicting the OVERALL trend of fandom once again focusing on undeniably white (and male) characters.

(don't get me started on the racebending of white characters in media that has a big Cast of Color and the implications of that)

Case 2: A meta posted on Ao3 about ableism in the Criminal Minds fandom caught my attention. A wonderful piece, very thoughtful, analyzing certain characterization choices within the fandom through the lens of an actually autistic person. The conclusion they reached: the writing of Spencer Reid as an autistic character, while often charming and comforting, tended to be incredibly infantilizing and at worst downright ableist. They came to that conclusion while CLEARLY stating that the individual fanfic wasn't the problem, but the general fandom trend in depicting this character.

Once again, looking at the replies seemed to be a mistake: while many comments furthered the discussion, there were quite a few which completely missed the point. Some were downright hostile. Because how dare this author imply that THEY are ableist when they write their favorite character using that specific characterization.

It didn't matter that the author allowed room for personal interpretation. It didn't matter that they noted something concerning about the entire fandom - people still thought they were attacking singular people.

Case 3: I wrote a fic about abortion in the FMA(b) fandom (actually I've written a weird amount of fics about abortion in a lot of fandoms, but alas) and I got hate comments for it. Because of that I addressed the bias in fandom against pro-choice depictions of pregnancies. I pointed out that the utter lack of abortion in many omegaverse stories or even mpreg or het romances, painted the picture of an unconscious bias that hurt people for whom abortion was the only option, the best possible ending. The response on the post itself was mostly positive, but I got anon hate.

(which I can unfortunately not show you since I deleted it in the months since)

And I'm not overly broken up about it, but it also underlines my point: by pointing at a general problem, a typical behavior, a larger trend... people feel personally attacked.

This inability to discuss sexism, ableism, racism, transphobia, etc in fandom without people turning defensive and hurt... well, it damages our ability to have these conversations at all.

Earlier I said YOU are not the problem - well, i think part of this discussion is acknowledging that: sometimes YOU are in fact part of the problem. And that's not the end of the world. But you can only recognize yourself as a cog in the machine, if you can examine your own actions, your own biases, your own preferences critically and without becoming defensive.

And, again, this is not to keep you from finding comfort in your favorite characters and headcanons. This is also not to say that I am free of biases and internalized bigotries - I am also very much a part of the system. A part of the problem.

This is so you can comfortably ask yourself "but why is there no abortion in this universe?" or "why are my favorite black characters always the top in my slash ships?" or "why do I write this disabled character as childish and in need of help?" - and sometimes the answer is "because I am disabled and I want comfort", and that's fine too.

There is no one shoe fits all in fiction. There is not a single trope that captures all members of a group. There is no single stereotype that isn't also someone's comfort. No group is a monolith, no experienced all-encompasing (or entirely unique).

There is never a simple answer.

But that doesn't mean you should stop questioning your own biases, your own ideals.

Especially, if you grow defensive if someone points out that a certain trend you engage in might be racist. Or sexist. Or queerphobic. Or fucking ableist.

*this does not mean negate the general anti-blackness perpetuated by most cultures as a result of colonialism and slavery

[physalian]

What No One Tells You About Writing #4 (100 Follower Special!)

Have you got any that deserve to be on these lists? Don’t be shy! Send ‘em over.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

*This list contains mentions of assault, #4

1. Zero cursing is better than censored cursing

I made the mistake in the early days of writing a self-censoring character, and every “curse” she said just took the teeth out of the rest of the statement. I’m talking gosh, darn, dang, etc, not world-specific idioms a la “scruffy nerf herder” or “dunderhead” instead of “dumbass”.

Look to any American TV show that so, so badly wants to use f*ck or sh*t but has to appease the sensitive conservatives who still somehow believe strong language is worse than graphic violence and horrifying psychological damage. For shame! Your characters can be angry without expletives, so rework your sentences to include equally damning insults that don’t resort to potty mouths if you’re concerned about ratings.

Or go full-throttle into the idioms of the world or the time period like Pirates of the Caribbean. Or just… don’t. There’s zero modern cursing in the Lord of the Rings adaptation and not a single sentence that censors itself. The dialogue is above vulgarity and feels more *fantastical* that way anyway.

2. “Yeah, you aren’t the target audience.”

It’s kind of hilarious seeing the range of reader reactions to two characters I intend to have a romantic relationship. Some will go “I ship it!” after the first page of them together… and another will go “wait, I thought they were just friends” up until they kiss. Sometimes you might be too subtle, other times it might be better to just accept that you can’t rewrite your entire book to please one naysayer.

When I’m pitched a fantasy adventure book that turns out to be a by-the-numbers romance where no one is allowed to be a peasant and every important character is royalty in some way, with a way cooler fantasy backdrop, I get severely disappointed. That doesn’t mean the book is bad, it just means I’m not the target audience.

3. There is no greater character sin than making them boring

Unless you live in the wacky world we find ourselves in where any flaws whatsoever are apparently harmful depictions of so-and-so and not at all written with things like ~nuance~. I will gush over your heinous villain committing atrocities because he’s *interesting*. I will not remember Bland Love Interest who’s a generic everyman with zero compelling or intriguing traits or flaws.

There’s another tumblr post out there that I cannot find that says something like this, and I believe the post goes “his crimes are fiction, my annoyance is real”. Swap annoyance for boredom and you get what I mean. So, I don’t care what your character does so long as they’re memorable. I will either root for their victory or their doom, but I do need *something* to root for.

4. The line between “gratuitous” and “respectful” is actually very thick

Less what no one tells *you* about writing and more what no one tells screenwriters. Y’all do realize you can write a character who experiences assault without actually writing the assault, right? Fade to black, have them mention it in their backstory, or have the horrific aftermath as they come to terms with it. An abrupt cut to this devastated character when it’s all over and they’re alone with themselves can be incredibly poignant and powerful. This goes with anything sensitive, especially if it’s not coming from experience.

If you want to write it or film it respectfully, romanticizing assault, for instance, is when it’s framed as if either character has earned or “deserves” it. If the narrative in any way argues that it's justified. The victim might have "earned" it for any of the BS reasons we use in the real world, or the perpetrator might've "earned" it because of temptation, desire, pressure to assert dominance, etc. Representation is important, but are you “representing” to shed light on a misunderstood and maligned topic, or are you doing it to satisfy a fetish or bias in yourself?

5. Don’t let your eyes get bigger than your stomach

Fantasy has no limitations, which means you can dig way deeper into the well of your worldbuilding than you realize, until you look up and realize you’re stuck down there. I have never seen a more obvious inevitable disaster looming than the pilot of GoT season 5. Why? Nobody has any plans. They’re all just led around by whatever side quest the writers throw them on, twiddling their thumbs until the writers deign to pull the trigger on the White Walkers.

To the point that what should be a major character can skip an entire season because his arc is meaningless. Everything in the last half of that show was one big “eventually” while the story toiled around in an ever-expanding cast of characters and set pieces (seriously, it’s hilarious how jarring the extended version of the theme music became compared to the pilot episode to fit all these locations).

When you have too many directionless characters, too many plot elements, too many ideas you want to fully mature and get their due spotlight and then somehow combine them all together for a common foe in the end, writing can get tedious and frustrating very quickly. Why, I imagine, the book series remains unfinished. Fantasy is great for being able to create such complex worlds, but don’t be the snake that eats its own tail trying too hard.

6. No one cares about your agenda if you insult them to push it

This deserves its own post but here we go. Peddling an agenda is a paradox: those who agree with you won’t need to be preached to, and those who you want to persuade will instead reject you further because they feel belittle and disrespected. This is why so many recent “strong female characters” fail on both sides of the aisle. Feminists see an annoying caricature of the movement they’re passionate about. Antifeminists see an insufferable, shallow, liberal mouthpiece when they just want to be entertained. You have failed both sides, congrats.

The answer? Write a strong, nuanced, well-developed character. Then make them a woman. I know this has been said before but this BS keeps happening so clearly the screenwriters aren’t listening. Entertain me first. Entertain me so well I don’t even realize I’m learning.

7. Today’s audiences won’t react the same way as tomorrow’s

Sometimes genres or tropes get oversaturated and need a few years to cool off before audiences are receptive to them again—teen dystopia, anyone?—that doesn’t mean your story is inherently bad because it’s unpopular (nor does it mean it’s amazing because it is popular).

You should always write the book you want to read, not the book that chases trends. I can pick up a well-written teen dystopia I’ve never read before and enjoy it. I can continue to ignore Divergent because it has nothing to say. Write the book you want to read, but then accept that you might make no money because no one else wants to read it, not because they think it’s bad. And, who knows? You might get a boom of chatter months or years down the line when readers stumble upon an uncut gem.

8. Your characters don’t age with you

Depending on how long you’ve been working on your world and what age you were when you started, the characters, concepts, morals, and story you set out to tell might no longer reflect who you want to be as an author when all is said and done. Writing can take years, some of which can be incredibly turbulent and life changing. I wrote the first draft of my first original novel in my freshman year of college. Those characters and that draft are now unrecognizable and has left a world I’ve poured my heart and soul into in limbo.

I’ve slowly creeped up my characters’ ages. My writing has matured dramatically. The themes I wanted to explore in the height of the 2016 election are just demoralizing now. That book was my therapeutic outlet and, as consequence, my characters sometimes reflect some awful moods and mindsets that I was in when writing them. But nothing in that world grows without me tending to it. It’s not alive. Despite all the work I’ve done, there’s still more to be done, maybe even restarting the plot from the ground up. When I think of what no one told me about writing, staring at characters designed by someone I’m not anymore is the hardest reality to accept.

—

If you think I missed something, check out parts 1-3 or toss your own hat into the ring. Give me romance tropes. Mystery, thriller, historical fiction, bildungsromans, memoires, children’s books, whatever you want! Give me stuff you wish you’d known before editing, publishing, marketing, and more. 

Also, don’t forget to vote in the dialogue poll!

[queerofthedagger]

not to stir the pot but i’ve seen some really shitty takes recently about arthur being gay and completely erasing gwen’s importance to him. what are your thoughts?

oof well that is in fact a loaded question but I genuinely feel your frustration so let's give this a shot lmao

the short of it, to quote a friend of mine: 2012 tumblr called and wants its shitty shipping discourse back (derogatory)

the slightly longer of it.... to start this off, no one has to ship anything. no one's saying that anyone has to ship anything, or headcanon characters a certain way, or that you're not "allowed" to say that you don't ship certain ships. that's just . not a thing that's happening, and I do wanna reiterate strongly that you don't have to ship anything.

that said, well. maybe if you find yourself with the urge to nail your 'why i don't ship this canon interracial couple' against the proverbial church doors, you should ask yourself.... why is it always the black characters you find "badly written." why is it always the black and the white character who have "no chemistry." why is it always the black character you find unrelatable, that you think would be soo much better suited dating another character of color, etc. etc. These things do not happen in a vacuum, and you don't need to hate or even dislike that character to play into tropes, stereotypes, and issues that very many people have very extensively explained to be less than stellar, to put it mildly.

And Imma come out and say this: fandom is not activism, you don't need to be a loud, outspoken activist and/or turn this into anything more than a hobby. if, even amongst the discussions had in the last years, you have never once stopped to ask yourself how you might deal with the internalized racism that we're all dealing with, how it might affect people in the spaces you share while doing your hobby, then, frankly, you gotta do better. fandom is not activism, but we all have some basic responsibility of not causing more harm than there already is going around. this should not be a controversial statement either.

you can ship merthur without invalidating and trampling all over the frankly brilliant fact that this show went and casted a black woman as queen guinevere. you can ship merthur without taking away scenes that are not about them - god knows there are enough. you can acknowledge that 75% of your shipping takes are subjective, that merthur isn't, wasn't, and was never going to be canon, and literally none of this takes away from the two generic white dudes whose faces you'd like to smash together. this entire fandom is and has been majorly about those two generic white guys, for well over a decade, and i'm saying all this as a white merthur shipper. like, this is the bare minimum. and yet, here we fucking are.

as for the arthur being gay thing - again, you don't need to headcanon anyone a certain way, but whenever i do see this specific headcanon it "somehow" always comes with an incredibly weird (to put this mildly also) understanding of sexuality, top/bottom discourse, and - you guessed it - takes on arwen, that are maybe something people might want to uhh. examine also.

this isn't a callout, or a call for a witchhunt, or or or. personally i block and move on, and I wouldn't have said anything more on this than a vague shitpost on my sideblog, but god knows i can never shut up and even less so when asked, and I do think that while, again, fandom is not activism and I'll stand by this, people should... try and aim to make some basic attempts at not causing harm. it's not even hard (although that should not be your measure but like, again. bare minimum). it really is as easy as not constantly invalidating and side-lining ships and/or characters, by doing basic research in how not to whitewash characters, why not to compare skintone to food when writing, etc.

On that note, none of these are things that I've come up with. A lot of people, especially fans of colour, have done a great deal of work to provide resources and education that are... incredibly easy to find if you can be fucked to make some effort. Imma link a bunch beneath too but like. Yeah I guess that's my take. You can ship whatever you want, genuinely, from the bottom of my heart. But 1. maybe sometimes take some time to consider what you're saying, 2. maybe take some time to do some basic self-education on some issues in general, and 3. writing posts on why you don't ship whatever ship has never accomplished anything beyond getting people who agree with you to stroke your ego, and step on the toes of people who don't. at best.

But also, last but not least, the block button is your friend and all that

Resources by people much better equipped to talk on these things than me:

How to stan the white guy with minimal contribution to fandom's racism problem

The racism in the Merlin fandom and towards Gwen specifically

Educating Merlin - a blog that's specifically tackling racism in this fandom

Fanlore on Fandom's Racism Problem(s) (use to find many links leading you to further discussions on it)

More Fanlore with further links

When white people talk about racism in fandom

Writing with Color - Resource blog for writing specifically, but honestly also covers so many topics that it's incredibly useful for doing some self-examination too

I'm not saying you need to agree with everything said in all of these sources, but also if your constant reaction to these discussions as a white person is to get defensive, to dismiss it, etc., I'm saying this in the nicest way possible: maybe sit with that for a bit. Ask yourself why requests like not constantly making fun of a ship gets you in such a huff. Etc. etc.

Lastly: if people would like to add onto this with more resources, that's highly welcome. That said, anyone clowning/harassing/being a bitch on this post will be blocked.

[redphlox]

Dabi wasn't trying to look for acknowledgement from Endeavor but acknowledgement for his existence. This is more about him look for a reason for his existence.

*dusts off the good ol’ askbox* Hiya thanks for the ask!

This statement is trying to diminish Endeavor’s role as Dabi’s motivation, and I don’t agree. 

Yes Dabi/Touya wanted acknowledgment of his existence. Whose acknowledgment did Touya want? Endeavor's. And his family's.

Everything Touya has done since his quirk started hurting him has revolved around regaining his father’s attention. He wants his father to look at him again. Touya has said so, and even Rei has said so (302). He wanted and still wants his father’s acknowledgment. He wants it so badly he has been self-harming since he was around 4 years old. He trained in secret for years to re-earn that attention, burst into literal lethal flame tears when his father didn’t show up to see him at Sekoto Peak, woke up from a coma making up an excuse as to why his father didn’t arrive and went home to see him and the rest of the family, and then decided to stay dead when he saw that the person who dominates their family - Endeavor - hadn’t changed. And now he has spent the last 10 years plotting to ruin Endeavor. Why? Because it hurt that his own father didn’t want or care about him because Touya loved HIM so much. Touya thought the love was unreciprocated. Dabi even tried to kill Shouto multiple times now - why? Because Dabi wants Endeavor to notice him for once. 

I’m not sure what else to say. Touya is just like any other kid IRL who feels like a giant disappointment to their parent. That shit stings. But, Touya wasn’t the kid who went out of their way to continue pissing off their parent by becoming the exact opposite of what their parent expected. No, Touya dug in his heels and tried incredibly hard to meet his father’s standards until he died. I’d even make the argument that he’s STILL trying to meet his father’s standards. He’s using Endeavor’s mentality that hotter flames = stronger and copying his moves. Touya is self-destructing because his father abused him, and to say that Touya doesn’t want his father’s acknowledgment ironically erases that trauma because his trauma IS being neglected, and he WANTS closure by being seen.

Look. Touya wants his dad, and the core of that feeling is love - wanting to be loved by his father via acknowledgment and allowed to show his love for his father via training and going into the same profession as him. But it was never only about heroics… it was about his relationship with his father. All Dabi has talked about since 290 is family this, family that, Endeavor, father, Shouto, Endeavor Endeavor Endeavor. 

I know it’s hard to fathom. Touya yearning for the father who abused him and the entire family is hard to stomach for some readers who suffered parental abuse and therefore can’t relate to Dabi, and I understand that and I see them. Horikoshi is writing the story, and he’s made it clear that the Todoroki family will heal and come together to FINALLY be happy - and this includes both Touya and an Endeavor who is regretful and wants to be better.

[bookishphysicsgirl]

Hello, I have a genuine question, especially for trans people since you are the most affected, regarding Harry Potter fan fiction.

I'll try to tag this appropriately so that anyone who doesn't wish to see any content regarding to this doesn't, but if it accidentally slipped through I'm sorry, just tell me what else to tag it as so it will be better blocked and I will.

Obviously Joanne is a delusional b**** and I will never be touching anything she writes or sells ever again, since it would be giving her funds to actively harm trans lives.

The only question I have is regarding fanfiction because I've been seeing many arguments about this and still can't quite make my mind up about what side is right, but the thing is none of the people I saw making statements about this were trans, so I would very much appreciate your opinion since I believe that your thoughts are the most valid in this situation.

The first argument is that HP fanfiction while not directly supporting J.K. and oftentimes going directly against her beliefs is still giving visibility to her work and ultimately attracting people to the world of HP that normally wouldn't have exactly because of the effort put in to fix the mistakes of the original text.

I think the way they put it was that she is "profiting off the free labor of the folk she despises".

I actually see how this can be true and it makes a lot of sense to me since, for example, when All The Young Dudes blew up on tik tok a lot of people who might otherwise not have done so started buying HP merch and getting it farther up in the trends, even though ATYD by itself is a very queer-positive work.

The second argument is that fanfiction is not directly supporting her and it is incredibly healing and supporting for many people struggling. Not only that it can be a platform to expose her wrongdoings and stop the fandom from becoming a home ground for hate groups.

The argument went somewhere along the lines of if a child receives the HP books from a relative unaware of all the issues and likes it and then goes looking for more content, if the fan content made by the queer community isn't there to receive them all they will be met with is people who reaffirm Joanne's toxic opinions and it could be extremely harmful to those children, especially if they are queer themselves and aren't aware yet.

I myself have gone to HP fanfiction when I was questioning my sexuality and when I was depressed and it helped me immensely to understand what was happening to me and that it was ok and normal.

Trans protagonists in HP fanfiction also helped me understand gender theory better and what might be going on in trans lives and how to be more respectful (disclaimer: I am a cis woman so I cannot speak for trans people, I am merely stating that it helped me understand).

Both of these arguments make a lot of sense to me, and I can't see which one would be more correct. On the one hand I think that stopping everyone from even interacting with fandom might be a bit extreme, on the other I can't help but worry whether that is just me creating an excuse to keep enjoying things I like.

I don't feel like I enjoy HP fanfiction for nostalgia, especially since I openly recognize that both the books and the movies were actually a bit boring and not that well written and haven't been able to re-read them since I was 12. I think it has a lot more to do with the healing factor of being able to disassociate to another world and see stories that reflect mine and see people feeling the same things I do. But I am more than willing to stop if it is in fact causing more harm than good, especially since the last thing I want is for Joanne to receive clout she does not deserve.

Either way, I just wanted to know your opinions in all of this, since as I mentioned before I've only ever seen cis people arguing about it (mostly on tik tok).

Thank you so much for reading all of this and thank you if you reply.

(note: I will not be tagging this with trans tags because I know that a lot of people can feel unsafe when met with content regarding Harry Potter)

[jacquelinemerritt]

Final Fantasy VII: Machinabridged Episode 2 Review

Originally posted on September 11th, 2015

Episode 2

Real life is full of assholes. Self-entitled, manipulative, obnoxious assholes. And Takahata101 knows this. And more, he knows that the most extreme groups in the world, the ones that will stop at nothing to get their way, are filled with even worse assholes.

These assholes, more often than not, have a guiding philosophy or set of beliefs that allows them to justify their assholery. Militant atheists have the teaching of Dawkins, radical Christians have the teachings of their pastors, and AVALANCHE has a twisted environmentalism as its guiding philosophy.

And the leaders of AVALANCHE, Tifa and Barret, are so convinced that “saving the planet” through violence is a good thing that they will use any tactics to do so, from blowing up a power plant, to using threats and manipulation to recruit members.

This is why I find the prison rape threats held over Cloud to not only be unproblematic, but thematically poignant. Prison rape jokes in general are fairly unfunny, serving to reinforce homophobic ideas and harmful stereotypes about prisoners as well as reducing a severely traumatic event to a punchline, and there aren’t many occasions where they can be redeemed.

But Takahata101 does just that by leaning into the real horror behind rape, and acknowledging that Tifa reinforcing those fears onto Cloud is utterly reprehensible. It makes for a dark turn, and while it happens somewhat abruptly, it’s completely effective at establishing the immorality present in AVALANCHE, who originally were goodhearted underdogs.

This deconstruction of our heroes shows a lot of promise, and if Takahata101 and Anthony “Antfish” Sardinha continue to handle this darkening of the source material this well, it’ll make for an excellent thematic core to the series (especially if they also follow through on Cloud’s identity crisis).

On a similar note, we’re only two episodes in, and yet I’m already finding the incredible contrast between Final Fantasy VII: Machinabridged and its source material to be absolutely fascinating. I mentioned last week that Final Fantasy VII is frequently lauded by its fans as the greatest RPG of all time, and while I don’t agree with that statement,1 I do believe that FFVII is a wonderfully written RPG, thanks to how well it deconstructs its characters.

Cloud is your typical antihero, but then it turns out he’s not, and has been lying about being this antihero since the beginning. Barret easily fits the “Angry Black Man” trope, but he’s primarily concerned with being a good father and protecting the environment. Tifa’s tough physicality and visible sexuality doesn’t preclude her from having a strong intellect and an incredibly kind heart.

I could go on,2 but I wanted to highlight the difference between the characters we’ve met so far in FFVII:MA. Cloud is no longer brash, confident and brooding; he’s a nervous wreck with no sense of identity. Barret is cruel, vindictive, and probably not a very great parent, and Tifa is cruel and manipulative instead of kind and caring.

Now, in Episode 2, unlike the last, each of these characterizations hit on an emotional reality (last episode they were caricatures crafted to fit the theme, which was perfect for the first episode), and that emotional reality drives their relationships forward just as well as their characterizations in the original, even though these new characterizations can be a lot darker.

Rating: 4.5/5

Stray Observations

1On the grounds of writing alone, FFVII falls short in comparison to other games in the series, like VI, Tactics, and XII, all of which have stronger and better developed characters and storylines than VII (not even mentioning more recent Westerns RPGs like Oblivion, Mass Effect, or The Witcher, which outshine the storytelling of FFVII even more).

Gameplay wise, it’s also definitely one of the worst in its series (materia is fun but ain’t no esper, and they really weren’t ready for 3D until FFX), with only II and XIII really being definitively worse. And while very few Western RPGs outside of Dark Souls have gameplay I would consider “good,” they’re still streets ahead of FFVII’s clunky menus and Active Time Battle (which was perfected in VI).

2Seriously, every single character in this game is a deconstruction of their own archetype. Aerith is a manic pixie dream girl who abandons the male hero she’s “supposed to save” and sacrifices her life for everyone, leaving the male hero more alone and broken than ever.

Red XIII is a scientifically engineered wolf-creature who uses his fierce appearance to hide extreme intelligence and sensitivity. Cid is a loudmouthed redneck who is interested in and competent at flight and interstellar travel, and he also chooses to abandon his dreams of traveling into space in order to save the life of his assistant.

Reno and Rude, two “mindless thugs” from Shinra, are suave, cool, and genuinely good people, who refuse to question the actions of the men who have treated them incredibly well since the beginning. Rufus Shinra is a spoiled bratty kid who constantly questions the legacy of his father, and doesn’t realize until it’s too late that he’s been on the wrong side since the beginning.

Sephiroth… is a bit harder to pin down, because he’s mostly a parallel to Cloud as well as a warning to him of what he could become. His “ultimate” design is also interesting, as when he is at his strongest and has achieved “godlike power,” he takes the form of not only a fallen, but a broken, one-winged angel, showing the futility of his quest.

“REBELANCHE!”

Tifa: “Let me guess, you’re all pissy because that was ‘freedom-fighting’?” Cloud: “No, that was terrorism!” Tifa: “Oh, come on, how was destroying a factory that sucks the life out of the planet terrorism?” Cloud: “Every part of it was terrorism!”

Tifa the Liar.

Barret: “Did you f*** up?” Cloud: “What even is f***ing up?”

“Shinra determined that the explosion was caused by the group AVALANCHE.” *sounds of jubilation* “Little is known about this group…” *more jubilation* “Until today.” *sounds of dismay*

“Coming up next, the dark, demented reality of Chocobo breeding.” I’m literally shivering thinking about those horrors.

Cloud: “Please, like anyone’s gonna recognize me from that picture.” Tifa: “Hair.” Cloud: “Oh, you’re so right.”

Cloud: “That metaphor makes me uncomfortable.” Please let this be this series’ “I need an adult.”

[fahrni]

Saturday Morning Coffee

Good morning from Charlottesville, Virginia! ☕️

Its been a super duper exciting couple weeks which culminated in an App Store feature for Stream! As an Apple developer you dream of stuff like this but don’t expect it to happen. At least I didn’t. It’s quite an honor and I’ll be on Cloud 9 for a while.❤️

CNN

“Suzanne Somers passed away peacefully at home in the early morning hours of October 15th. She survived an aggressive form of breast cancer for over 23 years,” Hay wrote in a statement shared on behalf of the actress’ family.

R.I.P. 🪦

Marc Adreessen

Our enemy is the ivory tower, the know-it-all credentialed expert worldview, indulging in abstract theories, luxury beliefs, social engineering, disconnected from the real world, delusional, unelected, and unaccountable – playing God with everyone else’s lives, with total insulation from the consequences.

Someone stayed up way too late reading the works of Ayn Rand and in a ketamine driven manic state started writing.

Clearly Andreessen has been smoking his own supply and is so privileged and ultra wealthy he has no clue what real life is like any longer.

I chose to share the paragraph above because he’s basically describing himself and his fellow libertarian tech bros looking to build a perfect society on the backs of a servant class. Us.

One day this piece will be part of some psychological study on the harms of the early 21st century wrought by a class of technology oligarchs.

We’re all just trying to survive out here, save the planet, and help others along the way. You want the exact opposite. All you care about are wealth and power at the expense of all else.

Go enjoy the outdoors with a loved one and chill. Oh, and lay off the microdosing.

Dylan Scott • Vox

In the coming weeks, the majority of Americans will engage in a bizarre, mildly terrifying, distinctly American seasonal ritual. I refer, of course, to open enrollment — the time when you sign up for your health insurance plan.

As far as I know we’re still the only major country in the world with a second rate sense of healthcare.

Healthcare for all is just what the doctor ordered. A healthy America is a better American, just as an educated America is a better America. So, while we’re getting healthcare for all taken care of let’s make all state universities free of charge.

Paul Stamatiou

It was March 2020, I was in New England when covid quarantine had just begin and I found myself much more homebound. In these situations I’m not one to just do nothing. I always have some sort of project or hobby to keep me busy, be it taking and editing photos, writing detailed blog posts, or coding something.

Holy cow is this app beautiful! It’s a real bummer it’s never seen the light of day but I understand his reasons.

It’s a shame nobody bought this from him, hired him, and let him see it to fruition, it’s an incredible piece of work. 👍🏼

Jason Snell • Six Colors

If I had a dime for every “Apple’s going to release a low-end product to compete with other low-end devices” rumor, I’d have a hefty bank account by now. And you can find plenty of stories debunking this report as “sketchy.” At the risk of giving this report more credulity than it deserves, let me try to understand what this report might actually mean.

I’m not a longtime Apple device user, I started in 2006, but I can say this doesn’t sound like something Apple would do. 🍎

Daniel Lemire

The C++ library has long been organized around stream classes, at least when it comes to reading and parsing strings. But streams can be surprisingly slow.

Call me crazy but I still love C++ as a development language. I never really dove into streams, I used std::string, std::vector, and std::map a ton but not with streams.

The language has morphed so much since 2014 I hardly recognize it. That’s not a bad thing, they’re just trying to make it easier to use and safer for developers.

Anywho, interesting read if you’re into C++ or languages and performance in general.

Chloe Veltman • NPR

Netflix recently shuttered the longstanding mail-order DVD service that led to the closure of video stores around the world and ushered in the era of streaming. But now the company appears to be embracing brick and mortar.

Heh, let’s come full circle and open a physical location! 🤣

Now, if they include Blu-ray and DVD rentals that would be amazing! Perhaps they can take over all the shuttered Blockbusters that haven’t been turned into something else?

Meera Navlakha • Mashable

But some spots are closing their doors on influencers, raising questions. Take Dae, a design shop and cafe in Brooklyn. As reported by Curbed, the space was inundated by influencers carrying tripods, to the point where the owners decided to ban them entirely.

I can understand businesses doing this if the gaggle of influencers are forcing regulars and paying customers to avoid their favorite haunt. It doesn’t seem unreasonable at all.

Asher Fair • Beyond the Flag

Carson Hocevar has been formally announced as Spire Motorsports’ third driver for the 2024 NASCAR Cup Series season, replacing Ty Dillon.

I’m happy for Carson Hocevar and bummed for Ty Dillon.

Hocevar has driven a few Cup races this season and has proven himself a fast, talented, racer. He has a lot to learn about rubbing elbows with the big boys but he’ll learn.

As for Dillion I wonder where he’ll land? As far as I know there aren’t any Cup Series seats open. Maybe Xfinity or Truck Series? Regardless, I wish him well.

[Fritz Bogott • AutoDesk Instructables]

After several years of baking in North House Folk School’s wood-fired brick oven, I decided to build an oven of my own. I went a little crazy with extra features (slab foundation, arches, ash dump, chimney, doors, wood storage) and decorations (limestone around the foundation), but you can make a very usable version in a weekend with salvaged materials and a couple of friends.

Folks always make this look so easy! I’d never complete a project like this! But boy does it sound amazing.

I’m thinking a Roccbox is more my speed! 🤣

Ron Amadeo • Ars Technica

After ChatGPT disruption, Stack Overflow lays off 28 percent of staff

Yikes! The industry is at the beginning of yet another transformation and this one is happening very rapidly. I’d be lying if I didn’t say this terrifies me at some level because I’m essentially “aging out” at this point in my career. I always thought I’d have to learn JavaScript to continue on as a developer. Instead I may have to become a “Prompt Engineer” to bend the LLM’s to my will.

I still refuse to call it AI. 😃

Cory Doctorow

Amazon’s bestselling “bitter lemon” energy drink was bottled delivery driver piss

This is an amazing story! How in the world can someone game the system so hard they’re able to sell urine bottled as an energy drink? It also exposes Amazon, yet again, as a sweat shop. This time with drivers.

[foli-vora]

reflections

masterlist

A/N: I’m back, baby! This is completely self indulgent because I’m feeling shitty about my bod, who better to help than certified soft boi Marcus? This is dedicated to all the goddesses who sometimes struggle with remembering that they have the body of a bad bitch, regardless of what it looks like or what society tells you it should be. I love you.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x f!reader

Word count: 3k

Warnings: insecurities, body image issues, SMUT 18+ ONLY - body worship, unprotected p in v, I may have cried writing this no I won’t apologise

+

It was one of those days.

Your clothes didn’t feel right on your body, clumping in certain spots and hanging wrong everywhere else. The reflection in the bathroom mirror showed someone desperately trying to piece together what was left – a bit of extra serum here, a heavier swipe of makeup there, as if it would all come together in the end and you’d be able to walk around with your head held high.

It didn’t work.

How you landed Marcus Pike, you’ll never know, and it’s that thought that festers, ugly and unyielding, in your mind throughout the entire day and well into dinner.

He watches you from across the table as he eats, head tilting when he quickly catches onto the fact that you���re unusually quiet, reserved, curling in on yourself and pushing the food around your plate instead of enthusiastically diving in like you normally do when he cooks.

“Is everything okay?” His voice is soft, his gentle probing so much more different from previous partners and their passive aggressive ‘What’s wrong with you?’.

Your eyes find him, flickering across his face creased with concern, your stomach twisting uncomfortably as you force a little smile. It doesn’t sit right on your face. “Yeah. Everything’s fine.”

He knows you’re lying, knows from the sudden shine in your eyes that something’s bothering you, something’s hurting, but he lets it rest for now, sensing your discomfort from miles away and instead choosing to reach a hand across the table to fold softly over yours as he fills the silence with the goings on of his day.

You don’t eat.

He doesn’t comment on it.

He hides when he hears you tidying in the kitchen, thinking he was already getting ready for bed. He watches you swipe away the food on your plate with a quiet sniff, the back of your hand quickly catching a lone tear that streaks down your face, and then he knows.

You pull at your shirt, shift uncomfortably in your tight pants – his favourite – and he knows.

Heart breaking for you, Marcus makes sure to make a noise as he enters, smiling softly when you jump and laugh quietly. You force a smile, turning your back to him to start washing dishes when warm hands cover yours in the soapy water, a body pressing up close behind you.

“Take a shower with me?” He asks into the hot skin of your throat, kissing softly below your ear as he sways with your body gently. A habit of his – always swaying to music that isn’t there. The music of your love, he liked to say. The cheesy idiot.

You want to say no, he can feel it in the way your body tenses.

“I had one earlier.”

He leaves it, nodding against your cheek in understanding before kissing it softly and fading away upstairs. He takes your composure with him, and you can’t help but cry as you finish up the dishes.

You really don’t deserve him. He was far too good for you.

The ugly thought that had long settled in your mind, suddenly sprouts into something bigger. It fills you, the unworthiness, and your chest tightens as you fight off the heavier sobs, struggling to swallow around the lump lodged in your throat from the effort of keeping it all at bay. You’d save them for later, when he’s oblivious and lost in dreams.

You must have taken longer than you thought because he’s already pottering around the room in his pyjamas by the time you make your way upstairs, dark hair dripping small droplets of water onto the collar of his comfy tee. He never dries his hair properly. Usually you’d do it for him – cover his head with a towel and rub it vigorously until he’s unsteady, chest heaving from the laughter muffled by the fabric.

Not tonight.

He watches sadly as you retrieve your pyjamas and head for the bathroom, head downcast.

“Hey,”

You stop instantly, a small smile twisting your lips uncomfortably as you turn to raise a brow at him.

“Come here.”

When you get to him, he quickly steers you to the full-length mirror by the walk-in closet and shushes your quiet refusal, standing close to you as you both appear in the reflection.

“Look.” He says.

You frown at him in the reflection, “What?”

“Look.”

And so you do.

You can’t help the sting of more tears in your raw eyes as they roll over your body, automatically drawn in to the bits you don’t like and picking them to pieces in your mind. He watches intently, heart breaking even more in his chest with every second he watches resentment fill your features.

“You’re beautiful.”

Your head shakes. It’s automatic. Can’t he see out of those gorgeous brown eyes?

His voice remains gentle, “Stop it – look.”

His fingers gently fiddle with the hem of your shirt before he’s pulling it up, careful as he pries it from your body and slides it over your head. Your arms automatically go to cross over your chest, to cover the suddenly exposed skin, but he doesn’t have it.

“No.”

His hands are warm on your shoulders, palms soft as they rub soothingly up and down your arms, and you don’t bother hiding the sadness anymore. Why bother? He already knows.

“What were those affirmations from your new year resolution?”

You snort before you can help it. “They were bullshit –”

He didn’t think so. You were all about them for the first few weeks – writing them in your journal, saying them in the mirror while he watched from behind the shower curtain. You even made him write some down and they’re still stuck to the side of his computer screen in his office.

“What were they? And look at yourself when you say them.”

You heave a sigh, eyes rolling from his to meet your own in the reflection. “I am strong.”

He mhm’s softly into your neck, chin resting softly on your shoulder. “And?”

“I am powerful.”

“Incredibly so. And?”

“I am beautiful.”

“Yeah, you are. Now again.”

“Marcus –”

“Again.”

You do as he asks, heart thundering in your chest as his hands smooth down along your torso and across the skin of your stomach, wrapping you up in his arms as he watches you. He turns you once you finish, hand tenderly smoothing along your cheek before cupping your jaw.

“I know this won’t fix it, I know what you’re feeling goes deeper than this, and I know nothing I do will take your pain away, but will you let me try, honey?”

His thumbs sweep under your eyes, brushing away the tears that had fallen from your lashes, and you smile, heart thundering in your chest as he presses a tender kiss to your forehead.

You really didn’t deserve Marcus Pike, but God were you lucky.

“I love you.”

He grins, eyes shining, “I love you.”

A part of you says no, no he doesn’t, but then his hands gently cradle your face and bring your lips to his, and you’re lost in the slow movements of his kiss, unaware he was backing you up to the bed until the backs of your knees hit the sides and you’re falling back onto it with a startled giggle.

You try to fight off the wave of hesitation when he goes for the button of your jeans and relax, but he can feel your reluctance, always so attuned to you and what you were feeling. He pauses, fingers stopping their movements as he looks at you.

“It’s okay.” You don’t know why you’re whispering. It’s just so quiet in the bedroom, so still, maybe you were afraid of shattering the silence.

He continues then, slipping the button through the loop and pulling your fly down before he grabbing the denim and dragging it softly down your legs. You lift your hips, shimmy a little to get them past your thighs and smile at his soft expression when he settles on his knees between your legs after throwing your jeans to the floor.

There was something magical about being the sole focus of Marcus Pike’s attention. Your skin hums under his gentle touch, goosebumps following the path of his fingers as they dance softly over your body. You don’t shy away from his open gaze; don’t cross your arms over your chest and try to hide your thighs like your mind is screaming at you to do. You just simply lay among the pillows, letting his eyes crawl over every inch of you.

And there’s no disgust hiding anywhere on his face. No flicker of repulsion. No curl of the nose or judgement in his gaze.

It’s pure admiration, pure awe.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

You want to scoff, you know that’s not the truth – the planet is full of drop-dead stunning women – but the longer he stares at you, looking all over your body and straight into your wide eyes, you think maybe he’s not lying… maybe there is a tiny bit of truth to his statement and, well, what’s the harm in believing it? If only just for a little while.

So you smile, heart beating wildly when he grins in return, eyes soft as he reaches back and pulls his tee off in one smooth swipe, and then moves to hover carefully over you. You welcome the soothing heat of his skin as he presses into you, hands greedily grabbing at his back as trails his lips across the skin of your jaw, nipping softly at your throat before he moves to your lips.

It’s easy to lose yourself in his steady stream of affection, your mind all but blanking as he steals the breath from your lungs, his tongue taking the last of any coherent thoughts as it moves along your own. He swallows your whimper and presses further into you, grinding his hips slowly into yours and relishing in your quiet moan.

He softly pulls away, keeping his voice low as he asks, “Is this okay?”

You’re nodding before he even finishes his question, and he smiles before kissing his way down your jaw, following the path to the curve of your shoulder to where the flesh of your breast melts from the cup of your bra.

He pauses, eyes flicking up to yours, “Still okay?”

You lift your chest to answer his question, one of his hands quick to whip around your body and undo the clasp before pulling it away from your completely. He inhales quietly, watching your breasts fall to a more natural position once free of the bra, and heat creeps along your ears the longer he stares, wandering hands moving to cup the soft flesh delicately.

A light sigh leaves you when his thumbs brush over your nipples, circling over the stiff peaks before he rips a surprised gasp from your lips. His fingers tickle the harsh sting of his pinch away before he envelopes a nipple into the wet heat of his mouth, tongue soothing any remaining pain. He moves to the other side, repeating his actions before pulling way to blow softly over the wet skin, chuckling quietly at the way you squirm under him.

He continues his slow journey downwards, but stops when he reaches your stomach. A part of you doesn’t want to look at him – what if he doesn’t like it? But then you’re reminded that he’s seen you naked hundreds of times, in all sorts of places and positions. Why would now be any different?

So you look at him, eyes following to where he rests comfortably between your thighs, gaze already trained on you with an air of soft fondness. He smiles when you look at him, and only when you look at him do you realise what patterns his fingers are tracing over your skin – he’s tracing your stretchmarks.

The sudden wave of apprehension is washed away when his lips trace over the shallow valleys in your skin, kissing along every single one he could see while his fingers continued running up and down your sides softly.

“Marcus,” you giggle, when he moves too close to the ticklish spot above your hip.

“What?” He asks innocently, a loud raspberry quickly cutting through the peace of the bedroom as he nuzzles into your side. You laugh louder, squirming against his hold and batting him away as he continues his attack. He glows when he sees the lazy smile stretching your features, no shadows hanging in the back of your eyes.

“Idiot.” You mutter affectionately, smile widening.

“Your idiot.”

His fingers trace over the waistband of your panties, waiting for your go ahead before they slide under the fabric and move them softly down your legs. He discards them off the side of the bed and hums lowly when your legs part under his gentle coaxing, eyes zeroing in on your folds shining with the arousal that had built from his tender ministrations.

“This okay?” He whispers, eyes watching the way your brow creases when he runs his fingers up and down your slit, his cock jumping in his pyjama bottoms when he feels your arousal coat his fingertips.

“Mhmm.” You relax into the pillows, eyes closing in bliss at the rhythmic circles he was rubbing over your clit. “Marcus?”

“Yeah honey?”

You knew where this was going, and as much as you adored his tongue and the absolute magic he could make with it, you just wanted him close. Your hands greedily grab at him, “Come ‘ere.”

He frowns, pouting as his fingers dip into your heat. “But I –”

“Not tonight. I just want you… please?”

He softens, nodding with a smile as he melts back over you, lips eagerly meeting with yours as you feel the weight of his body carefully press into you. He shimmies out of his pyjama bottoms, quick to settle back in between your legs and you exhale shakily as the head of his cock slides between your folds, a fire kickstarting in your stomach as he lazily drags his hips back and pushes forward until he runs his tip over your clit again and again.

His hand darts in between your bodies, fumbling to line himself up with your entrance as your lips work messily against his, throwing his thoughts into a complete jumble, and it’s not long until he’s sinking into you, bottoming out in your wet heat with a low groan. Your walls flutter deliciously around him and his hips jolt, before he’s rolling forward and starting a steady, unhurried pace.

“I love you,” he whispers as you pant below him, the slow drag of his hips against your clit as he grinds into you steadily building the fire in your core.

You can’t help the tears that build in your eyes, the intense power of his adoring gaze too much for your damaged heart to handle, but he doesn’t let you turn away, he won’t let you hide. His forehead meets yours, hands moving to intertwine tightly with yours as you breathe in the other, the slow pressure of his hips staying steady as your chest tightens from the sparkle in his dark eyes.

You put that sparkle there. You can see it now.

It was love.

Your love, his love –

It all morphed together in a wild frenzy of colours and sounds and everything was just right. Here now, with him, everything was right. There was no pain, no doubt… just pure devotion. Your heart struggles with the pressure of it all, chest threatening to surrender under the weight, but you welcome it eagerly, desperate to feel and breathe all of him as he moves over you.

The tears break free. “Marcus –”

“I know. I’ve got you, honey.”

“I love you,” you murmur, sniffing quietly as you wiggle a hand free to tangle into the damp locks at the back of his head to keep his forehead pressed against yours. His nose runs softly along your own and your heart squeezes at the sweet tenderness of it. “So fucking much –”

His face crumbles, completely unashamed as a wave of tears build in his own eyes, his own insecurities biting at the back of his mind, and he nods, pushing the shadows away and instead, nuzzling into you and your warmth.

“I know – almost as much as I love you.”

You share a watery smile, your thumb brushing softly over his cheek to collect the stray tear that falls free and then he’s moving, your hands winding to grab at his back as he picks up the pace, keeping the pressure of his hips rolling against your clit and you cry out quietly as your stomach tightens with the threat of your oncoming crash of pleasure.

He senses it, moves just that little more desperately against you, and then you’re shattering under him, eyes closing as fire floods your veins and rips through your body. He falls with you, his own end coaxed on by the sudden tightening off your hot walls and the rush of slick that floods him. He shudders above you, face pinching as he fills you, and you moan when you feel his cock twitch inside you.

You pull him to rest in your arms, head tucked comfortably in the curve of your shoulder as he huffs into your throat. You try to steady your own breathing, your heart beating wildly against your chest as the post-climax tingles settle into your limbs, your body melting into the bed as exhaustion rolls through you.

He’s gentle as he pulls out of you, carefully falling next to you, and watching you shift onto your side to face him with a languid smile.

His voice is barely a whisper, his fingers moving to find yours as his racing heart calms. “You really are incredible, honey.”

Heat crawls along your chest and fills your cheeks, “You’re not so bad yourself, Agent Pike.”

“Seriously,” he says quietly, “I wish you could see it.”

You swallow the sudden lump building in your throat, and you smile widely at him, filled with such a sudden wave of confidence you wish it would last. “One day I will.” And you know in your heart that it could be possible, it would be. “One day.”

+

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[purecamp]

RE: Sharon

i find these so hard to write, but i don’t like leaving things unsaid when i have a lot of thoughts. so much happened last year that was so severe and intense that i completely understand people who decided to just check out and not keep up. i did it myself for a while, when i was in too much pain to do anything else. but i feel like now maybe i should say something more.

i think most people will know by now that sharon has been performing again, that she’d been doing online shows for a while, that she’s involved in the SERV vodka campaign. and i know a lot of people were angry about some of it, asking why her career hasn’t been ruined, her title stripped, etc.

i’m somewhat closer to the situation than the average fan might be, which has given me a unique perspective and insight that the casual observer might not have, though for privacy reasons i won’t go into detail about how/why this is the case. i don’t expect this to change the minds of people who have decided their opinions on sharon, because she’s been hated for years regardless. and that’s fine, i respect that and always have. i don’t know what i want this to achieve but i want to say it anyway.

i want to re-emphasise what i wrote last time, first of all.

“the document has since been deleted. a few things i know are that sharon has been in contact with lawyers, understandably, and this is why she hasn’t made a statement as so many people are demanding of her. if you think having a lawyer makes you guilty... i don’t know what to say, other than that’s a weird view to have. i don’t know if the deletion is to do with the lawyers, or if it was their own decision. i also know that they have gone on to accuse lists and lists of people - some that i can remember including morgan mcmichaels, jinkx monsoon, alaska, alaska’s brother cory, detox, bendelacreme - of inappropriately touching them while they were a minor, as well as (proven falsely) claiming that aquaria was also abused by sharon, and sent underage nudes to her. again, this was not true, and at least for me, casts doubt on the credibility of the idea of sharon as an evil person and determined abuser.

i’m not saying that sharon didn’t act inappropriately, because she 100% did, and i find this very upsetting. i’m just saying that i don’t believe there was deliberate ill-intention or harm behind any of what happened, besides a fucked up situation between some fucked up people.”

i still believe this to be true. i personally find it very suspicious that someone claiming to want justice would make up false claims about others and expand their accusations in such a way for seemingly no reason - it smacks of just wanting controversy, or the desire to try and ruin what she has from the remains of a problematic and broken friendship.

i also want to admit that i have kept up with sharon’s life. partly out of curiosity, partly from nostalgia and how deep her impact on my life has been. i saw a few of her online shows during lockdown, pre-june, and also watched her halloween and valentine specials. her art remains incredibly close to my heart and whether u love her or hate her, she is a talented and engaging performer.

i know that she’s still working, and that in spite of everything she’s been through, she’s slowly getting better. i’m genuinely glad about this. i understand that this might upset some people.

it’s difficult to reconcile a lot of these feelings. it’s important to always believe the victim primarily, which is what i did until i had reason otherwise. and i know better than to gloss over sharon’s problematic past, though again i can say from being somewhat closer than average that i know of many ways she’s worked to undo these wrongs as much as possible. she’s not a public person, as much as she should be, and tends to go for actions over words that fly under the radar a little more. she supports a wide range of charities for marginalised members of the community and POC. i know i’m in no position to speak on it beyond that, nor to decide whether or not she should be forgiven, so i won’t. instead i will say that i find it particularly touching in my case how hard sharon fights for women’s rights, the inclusion/validation of AFAB performers, and her quiet activism.

i totally understand anyone who chooses to not forgive and not forget. i understand anyone who thinks she doesn’t deserve it. i just personally think that there are worse people out there than someone who is earnestly trying, and our energy should be diverted.

i honestly just wish everyone involved in this mess the best. i hope that ann*cy receives the help they need, i hope that sharon continues to work to fix her mistakes and i hope we can one day move past the idea of “cancelling” someone in the vicious, hateful way that the internet/particularly rpdr spaces do. i don’t hold any hate or pain in my heart like i did last summer.

i welcome any polite questions in my inbox but any harassment like i received last year will not be tolerated.

[misnomera]

On racial stereotyping of the Haans in TMA...

Right so as someone who is ethnically Chinese I have NO FUCKING clue how I didn’t notice this more distinctly in my initial binge of tma (going too fast and not paying closer attention to character names and descriptions, probably) but the Haan family storyline is, all horror elements aside, pretty fucked up in terms of racial representation re: stereotyping. This got long as hell, but please please please take a moment to read through if you’ve got time for it. thanks.

To start off, the Haans are one of the few characters in tma with an explicitly specified race and ethnicity—Chinese—and pretty much the only explicitly Chinese characters in tma, other than the mostly unimportant librarian (Zhang Xiaoling) from Beijing. But like, Haan isn’t even a properly Chinese surname, at least not in the way that it’s spelled in canon (it should be Han, one a. A quick google search tells me that Haan as a surname has...Dutch origins??).

Of course, that could be chalked up to shoddy anglicization processes within family histories, which certainly isn’t uncommon with immigrant families, so I’m not going to dwell on names too much (although I also find it interesting that John Haan’s name is so specifically and weirdly anglicized that he changed his own surname?? Hun Yung to John Haan is a very big leap of a name change and frankly not very believable. ANYWAY, this is not that important. I don’t expect Jonny, a white Englishman, to come up with perfectly unquestionable non-Cho-Chang-like Chinese names, though it certainly would be nice. Moving on).

What really bothers me about the Haans is how they almost exclusively and explicitly play into negative Chinese immigrant stereotypes. I don’t even feel like I need to say it because it’s like...it’s literally Right There, folks. John Haan (in ep 72) owns and operates a sketchy takeout restaurant. They’re all avatars of the Flesh—and John Haan is Specifically horrific and terrifying because he cooked his wife’s human meat and fed it to his unknowing customers. Does that remind you of any stereotypes which accuse Chinese people of consuming societally unacceptable and ethically questionable things like dog/cat/bat meat (which, if it’s not already crystal fucking clear, we don’t. do that.), which in turn characterize us as horrible unfeeling monsters? John Haan’s characterization feeds (haha, badum tss) directly into this harmful stereotype that have caused very real pain for Chinese people and East Asians in general. 

And Jonny does nothing to address that from within his writing (and not out of it either). And, speaking on a more meta level, Jonny could’ve easily had these flesh avatars be individuals of any race (like, what’s Jared Hopworth’s ethnicity? Do we know? No? Well then). Conversely, he could’ve easily, easily had a Chinese person be an avatar of any other entity. So why did he have to chose specifically the Flesh?

(This is a rhetorical question. You know why. Racial stereotyping and invoking a fear of the other in an attempt to enhance horror, babey~)

On Tom Haan’s side, Jonny seems weirdly intent on having other characters repeatedly comment on his accent (or rather, lack thereof) in relation to his race. Think about how, in ep 30 (killing floor), the fact that Tom Haan had spoken a line to the statement giver in “perfect English” was an emphasized beat in that statement, and a beat that was supposed to be “chilling” and meant to signify to us that something was, quote-unquote, “not right” with Tom Haan. Implicitly, that’s saying that it was unexpected, not “normal”, and in this case even eerie, for someone who looks Chinese to have spoken in fluid, unbroken English. Mind you, the line itself was perfectly scary on its own (“you cannot stop the slaughter by closing the door”), so why did Jonny feel the need to note the accent in which it was spoken in? Why did Jonny HAVE to have that statement giver note, that he initially “wasn’t even sure how much English [Haan] spoke”? 

This happens again in episode 72 with a Chinese man (and again, his ethnicity is Explicitly Noted) who we assume is also Tom Haan. This one is rather ironically funny and kind of painfully self aware, because the statement giver expresses surprise at Haan’s “crisp RP accent” and then immediately “felt bad about making the assumption that he couldn’t speak English,” and subsequently admitted that thought was “low-key racist.” Like, from a writing perspective, this entire passage is roundabout, pointless, and says absolutely nothing helpful to enhance the horror genre experience for listeners (instead it just sounded like some sort of half-assed excuse so Jonny or other listeners could say “look! We’ve addressed the racism!” You didn’t. It just made me vaguely uncomfortable). And again, having other people comment on our accents/lack thereof while assuming we are foreign is a Very Real microaggression that east asians face on the daily. If Jonny needed some filler sentences for pacing he could’ve written about Literally anything else. So why point out, yet again, that the crazy murderous man was foreign and Chinese? 

At this point, you might say, right, but yknow, it was just that the statement givers were kind of racist! It happens! Yeah sure, ok, that’s a passable in-universe explanation for descriptions of Tom Haan (though not John Haan, mind you), but the statement givers are fake made up people, and statement’s still written by Jonny, who absolutely has all the power to write overt discrimination out of his stories. And he does! Think about just how many minor (and major!!) characters are so, so carefully written as completely aracial, and do not have their ethnicity implicated at all in whatever horrors they may or may not be committing. Think about how many lgbtq+ characters have given statements, and have been in statements, without having faced direct forms of discrimination, or portrayed as embodying blatant stereotypes in their stories (though lgbtq+ rep in tma certainly has their own issues that I won’t go into here). Jonny can clearly write characters this way, and he can do it well. So why, why, am I being constantly, repeatedly reminded in-text of the fact that the Haans are East Asian, that they’re from China, that they’re Chinese immigrants, that they’re second-generation British Chinese or whatever the fuck, and that they’re also horrifying conduits for blood, gore, and general fucked-up-ness? It’s absolutely not something that is Needed for the stories to be an effective piece of horror; the only thing it does is perpetuate incredibly harmful and hurtful stereotypes.

And listen, I love tma to bits. It’s taken over my blog. I’ve really loved my interactions with the fandom. And I am consistently blown away by Jonny’s writing and how well he’s able to weave foreshadowing and plot into an incredibly complex collection of stories. But I absolutely Cannot stop thinking about the Haans because it’s just. It’s such a blatant display of racial stereotyping in writing. And I’ve certainly seen a few voices talking about it here and there, and I don’t know if I’m just not looking in the right places, but it certainly feels like something that is just straight up not on the radar for a lot of tma fans. And I’m disappointed about that. 

Just, I don’t know. Take a look at those episodes again and do some of your own thinking about why these characters had to be specifically Chinese (answer: they didn’t.). And in general, PLEASE for the love of god turn a critical eye on character portrayals and descriptions whenever they are assigned specific races/ethnicities (Some examples that come to mind are Jude Perry, Annabelle Cane, and Diego Molina), because similar issues, to an extent, extend beyond the Haans, though I haven’t covered them here. 

You shouldn’t need a POC to do point out these problems for you when they’re so glaringly There. But for those of you who really didn’t know, hope this was informative in some way. I’m tired, man. If some of the only significant Chinese characters you write are violent cannibalistic men with a perverted relationship with meat, just don’t do it. Please don’t do it. 

EDIT: Since the making of this post Jonny has acknowledged and apologized for these portrayals on his twitter and in the Rusty Quill Operations Update, which went up September 2020. A long time coming, but better late than never. This of course doesn’t necessarily negate the harm done by Jonny’s writing, and doesn’t make me much less angry about it, but is appreciated nonetheless. For more on this topic there’s a lot of productive discussions happening in my “#tma crit” tag and in the notes of this post

[kn1feinthec0ffee]

new love - spencer reid

spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: spencer tells the team about his new girlfriend, y/n.

warnings: fluff in its purest form.

word count: 1503

notes: IM BACK!!! i know it’s been a little while since i posted anything but i actually had the time (and motivation) to write this and i think it’s rlly cute!!

********************

spencer gazed down at you as you slept, adoration filling his eyes.

last night was the first night you had slept over at his place. he wasn’t really against the idea, other than the fact that you’d wake up alone in his bed. he wished he could stay and cuddle you longer, but unfortunately serial killers had a habit of killing innocent people. it was spencer’s duty to prevent that, and well - duty calls.

spencer couldn’t seem to spur his legs into action, the image of you still asleep and curled up under his covers was one too precious to walk away from. you were spread out on your stomach, your hair sprawled out across the pillow underneath your head, your hands softly grasping the comforter.

spencer found himself immensely grateful for his eidetic memory so that he could never forget how adorable you looked.

in lieu of fully rousing you to say goodbye, he decided on placing a kiss on your forehead. the whimper that the small action elicited from you made his heart clench - and made it that much tougher to leave you.

spencer quickly found some spare notepaper and scribbled a note for you encouraging to call or text if you felt lonely, his chicken scratch hardly legible in his haste.

——————————

as he sat on the train that morning, he couldn’t help but realize that everything just seemed so much better now that you were a permanent fixture in spencer’s life. it was as if his life were a coloring page that had suddenly been filled in with the most vibrant of markers - as cliche as that sounds.

the inconveniences that plagued him almost daily now seemed like nothing - for example, the embarrassing half-jog-half-sprint he had to do in order to make it onto the train in time. spencer felt like he had a new outlook on life, and it was all owed to you.

spencer arrived at work, walking into the bullpen with a noticeable pep in his step as he made his way over to his desk. he set down his satchel, only to glance up and find morgan and jj staring at him.

“do i have something on my face?” he frowned, wiping at his face to ensure there was nothing there.

“you didn’t head to the coffee machine straight away,” morgan pointed out, swiveling his chair to face him.

“i, uh, don’t feel like i need it?” spencer’s brows knit in utter confusion at the sudden interrogation he found himself a part of.

“you always get a cup of coffee in the morning, spence, regardless of whether or not we’ve got a case.” jj chimed in.

“and?” he wasn’t quite sure what the point of all this was.

“do you mean to tell us the doctor actually got a decent amount of sleep last night?” derek scoffed.

“i suppose so. is that an issue?” spencer cocked his head, much like a puppy dog.

“no, it’s not an issue at all, it’s just unusual for you.” jj shared a look with morgan, who stood up from his chair to saunter over to the doctor’s desk.

“so who’s the lucky girl, pretty boy?” he grinned.

the heat instantaneously rose to spencer’s cheeks at his words. “wh-what? what girl? i have no clue what you’re talking about!”

“come on, spence, you don’t expect us to realize the way you walked into work with a grin on your face? that hardly ever happens before you’ve gotten any caffeine in you, which - if you’ll remember correctly - you didn’t even have this morning.” jj grinned at the blushing boy.

“come on, that’s no fair! you guys know we’re not supposed to profile each other!” he practically whined, crossing his arms over his chest.

“ooh, who’s profiling who?” penelope said as she scurried towards the trio. “woah - boy wonder you are glowing. what are you hiding from me?”

before he could stop him from answering, derek spoke. “we think pretty ricky’s got a girlfriend.”

a sudden expression of pure joy made its way onto the analyst’s face as a smile lit up her face. “please, please tell me he’s right!”

spencer weighed his options carefully. the two of you were relatively new, and he didn’t want to spoil anything by telling his friends about you so soon. but on the other hand, every time he’d brought them up, you’d mentioned how much you’d love to meet them all one day. so he figured, what would be the harm in telling them?

“yeah. i do have one. a girlfriend, that is.” he spoke awkwardly.

penelope practically squealed as she pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. “i’m so happy for you! but spencer reid, how could you hide this from us? but i need to know absolutely every last detail!”

the way she flipped from excitedness to borderline anger left spencer feeling a little frazzled, but nonetheless happy to share. “her name is y/n, and she works in the bookstore downtown. that’s actually where we met.”

“y/n reid really has a ring to it, doesn’t it?” penelope exclaimed, clasping her hands together.

derek noticed how flustered spencer was becoming with all the sudden attention on both him and his love life and opted to pull her back slightly. “alright, let’s reign it in, babygirl. he only just mentioned her, i’m sure they’re not getting hitched any time soon.”

he sent derek a thankful look before continuing. “we’ve only been dating for a month now, i don’t think either of us are ready for that yet,” he laughed nervously.

“what’s she like?” jj asked, perching on the edge of his desk.

“i can’t even - i don’t even have the words to articulate how wonderful she is,” spencer sighed dreamily. “she’s just so kind and loving and funny and so, so beautiful.”

morgan and jj exchanged a knowing look, while penelope looked like a child who had finally gotten the pony she kept asking for.

“y/n’s one lucky girl,” she grinned a toothy grin. “speaking of y/n, when might the lucky lady like to meet us? please tell me she wants to meet us.”

“she actually really wants to meet you guys, she-“ spencer was cut off as garcia whisked him away to arrange a date with the whole team.

before she could get too far, morgan grabbed him by the arm. “seriously kid, i’m happy for you. she seems like she makes you really happy.”

spencer could only offer a quick ‘thanks’ in response before garcia dragged him all the way to her cave to plan.

——————————

“you’re home!” spencer heard you shout as he stepped past the door. he braced for impact as you practically launched yourself into his arms. “how was your day, baby?”

he smiled, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead as you pulled away. “it was good, just a paperwork day, but i didn’t get much done - except for one thing.”

“and what was that?” you quirked a brow at his odd statement.

“i might’ve told the team about us,” he grew slightly panicked as he noticed the shocked expression on your face. “i-i hope that’s okay with you. i know i didn’t ask, but i-“

you took his hands in yours, gently thumbing over his knuckles. “it’s fine by me, i just wasn’t sure if you were comfortable with it, spence.”

his heart skipped a beat at your thoughtfulness, pressing a kiss to your hands. “i don’t know, i guess in that moment, any doubt in my mind went away. n-not that there was any to begin with!”

you stepped up to place a chaste kiss to his lips, silencing his clarifications. “it’s okay, i think it’s sweet. so, what’d they say?”

“they were really happy for me, and i think garcia nearly burst a blood vessel when i told her.” the two of you giggled. “they kept saying how lucky you were, but i couldn’t help but think that i’m the lucky one.”

“oh they’re absolutely right there. i am the lucky one. how else could i have ended up with such a catch like you?” you smirked at the growing blush on your boyfriend’s cheeks.

“after i told them about you, garcia dragged me away to go plan a date for you to meet them, a-and i told her this friday would be fine, so i hope that’s okay with you.” spencer admitted, looking down at you hopefully.

“spence? are you kidding?” you beamed, clasping your hands together in excitement. “i can hardly wait!” you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down for your lips to meet.

his hand came up to cup your cheek, thumbing softly over your cheekbone as he smiled into the kiss. when you finally pulled away, you motioned for him to follow you into the kitchen for dinner.

as you practically skipped away, all spencer could think about was how incredibly thrilled he was to have met you. he wondered if maybe his teammates were right: you were both the lucky ones.

********************

i LOVE how this turn out and i put a lot of thought into this and actually had some friends read over it before i posted it so i hope u guys love it too 😊

as usual i’m tagging ppl on my taglist & ppl who i think might be interested :)

tags: @sojournmichael @stinkyelf @crazyfore3 @cal-ifornication @eggygorl02 @howdycharlie @eosprincess @mortallythoughtfulgurl @illuxions-x @unlikelyempathpruneauthor @blankets-for-bees @holycandypizza @flyingbabyunicornnamedangel @lovelyrdjr @elitereid @minnie-bby @rexorangecouny @ashwarren32 @fantastic-fans @keomoon @elric8097 @jjtheangel @spacedikut @whoreforthebau @angelbunnyoxo @theonewithcriminalminds @andiebeaword @big-galaxy-chaos @beatleszeppelin @averyhotchner @dreatine @you-sunshine

[kobakova]

Dragon Age and how it addresses oppression

ok so disclaimer this is not the rewrite of the Elven pantheon (the thing I keep promising I know I’m terrible) however it is an introduction to it and basically the reason why I feel the need to rewrite it in the first place! It’s a bit wordy, but I hope you take the time to read through it, as it took a lot of time and effort and I would super appreciate it! Today I stumbled upon a tik tok that was discussing how DA handles oppression and it motivated me to create a post about how I believe the way DA handles it is problematic at its core. I am not going to link the tik tok, as the creator has asked not to be put on blast, though I am including a word for word transcription of what the creator has said to avoid altering or skewing their message. I want to add that this is not an attack on the creator and what they said, more importantly it is an analysis of how other players perceive the oppression addressed within the game and how that proves that there is a serious problem with how DA handles it.

It is evident to me the message Dragon Age is trying to express is that oppression HAS to happen and that there is a reason to oppress. There are many examples within the game that prove this statement, though I want to focus mainly on how oppression impacts the mages and the Dalish, and how you as the main character can choose to perpetuate that oppression. To begin, here is the transcription of the tik tok below, which addresses oppression through the treatment of the mages.

“When it comes to mages, dragon age gives us a very clear picture that yes, these are people, they have hopes they have dreams they want to do better for themselves, they want to help others, we see this very clearly especially in DA2 where the whole plot revolves around mages rebelling. However, we also see very clearly in DA2 what can happen when a mage is left unchecked. Abominations, blood magic, the ability to force ones will onto somebody is a real threat with mages. Whether they succumbed to blood magic, whether they succumbed to the temptations of demons. These are unique challenges that face mages. And whether or not they should have freedom is true. And the game even gives us an amazing depiction of what could happen through Tevinter mages. What happens if mages are truly released, they have freedom. They might turn out like the Tevinters. Mages can become the ones solely on top oppressing other groups. A situation of the minority suppressing the majority. Whereas all the other lands of Thedas it’s the majority oppressing the minority. We have to grapple with these choices, whether not you kill a blood mage or you let them live. Or whether not you side with the mage rebellion or you side with the templars in DA2. It doesn’t pretend like it’s easy, and it doesn’t pretend to be something that it’s not. It doesn’t pretend to be real life. It gives unique challenges and unique decisions.”

My problem with DA is that you make choices through the role of an oppressor, which is very clear within Dragon Age: Inquisition as your rise to power then gives you the choice to oppress. The transcription above proves that a player has to make their decisions through the lens of an oppressor because you can determine the freedom or oppression of other people, in this case, the mages. Oppression cannot be a tool used for good because it is inherently bad, it only belittles others and is used to gain power. This could be a valuable lesson on how once power is gained so then is the ability to oppress, and how with the responsibility of power you should make choices based on what is best for the people who are oppressed. However, Bioware fails to follow through with this message for the sake of keeping their game morally grey. Instead, Bioware creates reasons and excuses for certain groups to be oppressed, thus making it okay for the player to make a decision that oppresses because either within their history something bad happened or there are certain people within the group that have done bad things. For example, all blood mages are considered evil due to some mages using blood magic in order to oppress and harm. However, we see in the game that not all blood mages are evil, and use blood magic to help. Despite this, all who use blood magic are deemed evil and if used, even if it means they are trying to escape an oppressive system, they will become Tranquil. When addressing Tevinter mages it’s evident that they have gained power, however they have chosen to oppress with this power. Being born with the ability to use magic is having the ability to gain power over another, but it is up to the individual to use that power to oppress or to use it to assist others. The ability to use magic itself is not an oppressive tool, because it has the ability to do good, it is the decisions of the individual that make it oppressive if the person decides to be an oppressor. If Bioware wasn’t so adamant about keeping the game morally grey, then they would’ve had an opportunity to create really interesting and important lessons on power and oppression that would better reflect our political landscape.

Now I want to move onto the Dalish, because I have a serious issue with how Bioware addresses the oppression they face and I believe it is important to mention. As stated above, Bioware chooses to ignore the dismantling of oppression, and instead creates reasons in order  to excuse the oppression of a group simply due to the fact that no group is perfect and they all have their issues. This is evident within the Trespasser DLC when discovering the true nature of the elven gods, which I will paste below:

!! Warning: spoilers ahead !!

“Following the initial events of the Exalted Council, the Inquisitor uncovers the reality that the Elven Gods were in fact phenomenally powerful mages who rose in prominence after the end of an unknown war. Solas implies that the Evanuris started out as generals during the war, then respected elders, and finally were revered as gods. They started out as heroes of the famed war eventually becoming corrupt tyrants in order to hoard and maintain their own power. The Evanuris institutionalized a system of slavery using Vallaslin as a brand, with only Fen'Harel (and more subtly, Mythal) challenging their tyranny. Most of the gods were arrogant in their ways, their power and attitudes more akin to the Tevinter Magisters. Eventually, the other Evanuris plotted against Mythal and killed her, prompting Fen'Harel to lead a rebellion against them and later creating the Veil to banish them into the Beyond,”

(https://dragonage.fandom.com/wiki/Elven_pantheon).

From what I’ve seen, little is known about the Elven Pantheon before Dragon Age: Inquisition and the discovery that the elven gods are actually powerful mages is only represented within the Trespasser DLC. Though I have learned later that this was always the plan for the Elven Pantheon, which was to expose the gods for being tyrants who enslaved their own kind. It is clear that Bioware took inspiration from Native tribes to then create the Dalish elves (even within the name, since there is the Salish Kootenai tribe and Bioware literally just switched the first letter) and this is why I have a major issue with how they chose to handle the oppression that the Dalish are impacted by. Throughout the Dragon Age games, we see the torment that the Dalish suffer through from name calling to the complete erasure of the elven race; Bioware even goes as far as to take significant historical events like the Trail of Tears and write them into the elven history. This is why the Trespasser DLC angers me, because after all you learn about the Dalish and what is done to oppress them, it almost seems brushed off after it is exposed that the elven gods were similar to Tevinter mages. This type of message has real world implications, and can impact how people perceive Native people. Within my own experience as a Native person, I’ve had people argue to me that the oppression Native people face has reason because we have also owned slaves which is COMPLETELY untrue. I was shocked to see this exact reason be integrated into the Trespasser DLC, and it worries me because some players will see that and find it perfectly rational to think that because of the Dalish’s history it is then okay that they were oppressed. Throughout history, America and other countries that have oppressed Native and Indigeous people have created excuses and reasons to oppress them (from excuses like we are s*vages that need to be educated, to reasons like the Manifest Destiny). Therefore, it is incredibly harmful that Bioware would use the same type of reasoning not only for the Dalish but for the mages and the Qunari as well. Finding a reason to oppress a group does not create progressive change, it only divides us and keeps the oppressed groups oppressed and keeps the oppressors in power. Bioware needs to change how they approach oppression, and instead actually teach players the tools needed in order to dismantle oppression. 

I hope to be able to change how the Dalish are perceived, and show through my rewrite of the elven pantheon and also rewrites of missions involving the Dalish how to dismantle oppression through the choices and involvement of the inquisitor. I thank you all for taking the time to read and if there are any questions please don’t be afraid to ask!

[khaleesiofalicante]

While a positivity blog is great, posing it in opposition with the "call-out" blog immediately devalues it. The one person who was called out on that account (the original one) was an adult sexualizing teenagers who blocked anyone who tried to tell her that what she was doing was harmful. It makes it seem like you're trying to support adults who sexualize minors.

There's no way to "communicate" with someone who blocks anyone who tries to "call" them "in". a call out is a statement that this type of behavior isn't acceptable and a promise to make the fandom a safer space for teenagers.

I asked very respectfully not to send me follow up questions on this matter. Because this whole "call out" thing had been weighing on my mental health.

But once again, I keep getting dragged into this.

This my response to every ask I've gotten regarding this matter over the last few days. The asks I've been ignoring because it's not my place to give an opinion on this. Or rather, I do not have to. I don't have an obligation to do so.

But here we are.

The very reason I find the call out blog problematic is because of a sentence you said in your ask.

You mentioned that because I find the call out blog problematic and I quote "it makes it seem like you're trying to support adults who sexualize minors."

This is the problem.

The call out is not the problem. It's the way in which they are being called out.

Over the last few days, I've seen tsc blogs, for the lack of a better word, being "investigated". Posts dug from the past, follower lists analysed, screenshots posts and shared in public.

This is not a call out. A call out refers to interpersonal confrontations occurring between individuals on social media. In theory, call-outs should be very simple – someone does something wrong, people tell them, and they avoid doing it again in the future.

Now I understand you mentioned an individual refused to listen. I will not comment on that - since I do not know this individual personally or how they reacted. I do not prefer to talk about people I don't know personally. Neither the people calling them out - or the person being called out.

But what I can tell you is that when you call out someone, it only works when you point out why they are wrong, not what what they are doing is wrong. So, instead of calling someone a pedophile, it is essential to explain how their behaviour impacts you or your peers. It is important to address this issue in the larger fandom, not just by spamming one person's ask box. Because this issue is greater than one blog.

The reason why I don't condone this call out blog is because it is so easily possible to get carried away and overpunish people, turning alleged perpetrators of upsetting acts into victims themselves. The moral high ground people stand on evolves from calling out to public shaming of individuals.

I am requesting this entire fandom to rethink your actions and to reevaluate your choices. All of you.

It breaks my heart that you would say that I support adults who sexualise minors when have spent my whole adult life protecting children from such people. It is literally my job.

I recently saw one of my dearest friends being called "homophobic" because they support Jace - because Jace 'outed' Alec and therefore those who support Jace are also homophobic. It really hurt because I know the struggles my friend had to go through in order to protect themselves from their own homophobic family.

It makes me so sad and yet so angry that you are not aware of the consequences your words have on people.

People who make such claims. You seem to forget that we live in a digital world now. You all seem to forget that we are living through a pandemic. We study online. We work online. We entertain ourselves online.

So when you shame people online so callously, it can affect irreparable damage on their professional lives. It can ruin their mental health. It can impact their families.

While the intention of the callout blog - and those who support it - might be honest, the way in which they are achieving their goal is incredibly harmful for people in this fandom regardless of whether they are guilty or not.

I want to point out that this call out blog achieves nothing. It doesn't root out the pedophilia and sexism that exists on Tumblr - or in the fandom. The call out blog does't achieve anything. I'm sorry. It had to be said. The only thing this blog achieve is spreading a culture of shame, fear and stigma in the tsc fandom.

So, I urge you to rethink your actions and reevaluate your methods.

I do not believe in giving bland advice. So, as someone who works on these issues, allow me to point you in an healthier and more effective decision.

WHAT CAN YOU DO?

If the goal is "a promise to make the fandom a healthier space for teenagers" then you are doing it wrong. I say this as someone who works on creating healthy spaces for teenagers. It's up to you whether you want to listen to me or not.

But you are going about it wrong. Here is what you can do instead.

1. What we are doing wrong? Currently, you seem to be focusing on the people - not the issue. If you want to make the space feel safe, you need to address the root cause. What differentiates a call-out from bullying is that it shouldn’t be about punishing someone for something they have done, rather it should be about establishing a new pattern of behavior. In other words, when someone calls you out they want you to start showing through your actions that you care about the issue you’ve been called out on. So, show that you care about the issue.

2. How do we show we care? Focus on the teenagers. You are focusing on the wrong group of people. Cancelling out someone or calling out a blog or getting someone to deactivate is not going to make teenagers feel safe. Trust me on this. You need to address the issue to the victims. You need to ASK THEM how they want to be feel safe. While your method might work for you, it might not be what everyone wants. It might not make everyone feel safe. So, talk to your peers. What is it that you can do for your own community? Is it writing an email to CC about this issue in the fandom? Is it addressing it in a larger platform like a magazine or YouTube? Is it reaching to Tumblr and talking to them about doing their job and enforcing the community guidelines efficiently? THIS is how you fix the problem - not by chasing people out when you find them to be problematic.

3. Why are you complicating this? Why can't we just call people out? Because then you will only be addresing the symptoms, not the root cause. I understand that most of you are minors and therefore will not have the same awareness about how the system works or don't ahem access to same resources and opportunities we adults do. But unfortunately, it is our reality. We all live online. We all need to educate ourselves and do better.

I'm sharing an excellent resource here which was developed by UN WOMEN in 2021 to speficially tackle the issue of bullying, disinformation and hate speech experienced by youth - especially young women. It's a free online course that helps you learn this topic better. It even gives you a certificate from the organization.

I am ALL for calling people out as long as you do it the right way. So, if you want to be a warrior on Tumblr, if you want to protect your peers, if you want to create a safe space, you need to learn how to do it the right way. Otherwise, like most social activists, you are doing more bad than good. Your attempts to create a better world only lead to more chaos and pain.

4. I still don't understand. Then here is a simply answer. I hope this helps.

Please make better choices. Be conscious of how your actions online affect people both in digital and offline spaces.

You are allowed to fight for your safety. You are allowed to fight for your rights. But you are not allowed to hurt another person to prove your point. Then your whole initiative becomes counterproductive.

You need to be more aware. You need think more critically.

Finally and most importantly - I once again ask that you do not drag me into this. I am not the president of this fandom. I am not your parent. While it is my job to create awareness and work on online safety, I am not on tumblr to be an activist. This is my safe space. This is my comfort space. This is where I come to take my mind off all the stressful and heartbreaking things I have to work on as an activist. I am here to shit post like most people. I do not have to teach you to be decent or how to be sensible or how to be kind. That is the job of the education system and your family.

I'm sorry those around you have failed you and it has come to this. I only hope you do not fail yourself.

Make better choices.

Love, Dani.

[joyfulholland]

The Peace Treaty - Mob!Tom

....when your father orders you to make peace with Tom Holland, heir to the other crime family, you find working together is not as horrendous as you once thought.....

a/n: enemies to lovers with mob!Tom...this was a labour of love but I really like how this turned out and I hope you do too! i was largely inspired by all of my insanely talented friend Hannah’s (@duskholland​) mob!Tom writing, which is an absolute must read for anyone and everyone! please let me know what you think! this was nearly a smut but I changed my mind so if anyone would be interested in a part 2 please send me a message!

warnings: swearing, lots of mentions of violence, some mentions of blood/injuries

word count: 6.1k

All weddings have a little drama somewhere, but you thought having to throw a knife to stop the unwanted guest escaping was a tad excessive.

Luckily, the majority of the wedding party and guests were out in the gardens, so it was only a select few who had seen you interrupt the man’s swift exit. You smirked in triumph as he turned back to face you, his posture having slumped realising that not only was he cornered, but severely outnumbered. Smoothing out the cobalt silk that was your bridesmaid dress, you took one step forward, before pausing at the cough from the man beside you.

Tom wordlessly flipped the pistol he was holding so that you could easily take it from him. His actions caused you to raise an eyebrow, and he smirked as he revealed the second handgun tucked into his waistband.

“Knew you wouldn’t be able to carry in that dress.” He grinned, eyes scanning your figure as you took the weapon from him. “Figured I better bring a spare so you wouldn’t have to miss out on the action.”

“Thank you.” You didn’t hide the surprise in your tone, still not used to his friendly attitude. Gesturing at the man still in the doorway, whose eyes were darting between you both, and the four other men behind you, you returned to the task at hand. “Shall we?”

“After you darling.”

~one week earlier~

“You can’t be serious Dad.”

Your father rolled his eyes from where he was seated across from you in front of the fire, the sound of laughter and music drifting under the door to his study from the party going on outside. Taking another sip of his whisky, he sighed at the incredulous look still plastered on your face.

“It’s time you made peace with him. I’m getting old, it’ll be your turn to run things soon, and we’d like to retire knowing the two of you aren’t at each other’s throats and throwing everything we built away. Besides, your sister’s wedding is almost here, and I want it to run smoothly.”

Sinking back into your chair, you let out a frustrated sigh before raising your own drink to your lips. Growing up as the eldest daughter of one of the two biggest crime families in London, you’d been raised preparing for the day it would be your turn to take on the “family business”, and you had relished in the prospect. The only issue you had taken to the entire affair, one which it seemed your father was now determined to resolve, was the heir to the other notorious family with whom you shared your work: Tom Holland.

One year older than you, the rivalry between you had started young. Both determined to prove you would one day be capable heads of your respective families, you’d attempted to one up each other at every opportunity available. Where he had excelled in marksmanship, your skill with a knife was incomparable to anyone else. When he began working for his father full time, you had begged your own to let you do the same, pleading that the fact he was older irrelevant. His specialty was smuggling, so you made disposal yours. The two of you even had a private scoreboard of times your activities had namelessly been displayed on the news, bragging that you were more successful at getting away with it than the other.

“Just shag him already.” Your younger sister, Isabelle, had groaned not a month before, as you’d finished regaling her with your recent triumph over him. “You’ve both been madly in love since you were about two years old.”

You’d almost spat your wine at her, the statement causing you off guard. Whilst it was no secret that Tom had suddenly become incredibly attractive over the course of a summer away when he was seventeen, you had made that fact irrelevant as your feelings towards him held nothing but contempt.

“I’m not in love with him.” Your words had come out as defiant, but it had only caused her to snort into her own drink. “Belle, he’s an arrogant, selfish arsehole who has done nothing but show as much hate towards me as I have to him since we were old enough to throw building blocks at each other.”

“I think you meant passion, not hate, but whatever.” She rolled her eyes, knowing when to drop a subject. “But it would be better for us all if you got along at least, and so help me God if the sexual tension between the two of you ruins my wedding I’ll murder you, heir to the firm or not.”

Which led you back to sitting across from your father, who had just informed you that he’d agreed with Tom’s father Dominic that the two of them were to hold ‘peace treaty’ talks between you.

“Did Belle put you up to this?” You asked suspiciously, eyes flashing to the door where you knew she would be holding court as the host of the wedding shower.

“She and your mother may have suggested it.”

“So she snitched to the both of you.”

“Actually, I think it was your mother’s idea first, she’s been speaking about it for a while.”

The smile on his face let you know you were defeated. It seemed they had all colluded together to force you into the ceasefire of your battle with Tom, and there was no way to escape it. Letting out another disgruntled sigh, you finished the remainder of your drink before rising from the chair.

“I assume he’s here.” The tone of your voice made your father let out a bark of laughter, and you knew you sounded like a child who had just been reprimanded. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Not waiting for an answer, you crossed the room and re-joined the party that your father had pulled you from, rearranging your face into a fake smile as you passed guests in various states of enjoyment on your way to the main reception area in your family estate. You’d barely stepped over the threshold of the doorway when his voice rang clearly above the music.

“Well, if it isn’t my new best friend.”

Turning to face him, you saw Tom push up from where he was leaning against the wall. Your eyes quickly scanned his body, noting the near-empty glass held loosely between two ring-clad fingers. His black suit jacket fitted him perfectly over a crisp white shirt, which had the top three buttons undone to reveal a thin gold chain around his neck. He was flanked on either side by his two most loyal friends, Harrison and Tuwaine, both of whom offered you a smile. Whilst the rivalry between yourself and Tom was strong, neither of you had ever taken any issue to those in both of your inner circles.

“Looks like I’m not the only one who’s had the play nice speech.” Skipping any greetings, you return the other men’s smiles before focusing on Tom. He gives a short chuckle at your words before raising his glass to his lips and finishing the remainder of his drink. “For the record, I have no intentions of becoming friends.”

“I’m wounded darling.” Tom’s still wearing an obnoxious smirk as a server comes to offer you a glass of champagne, taking away his empty glass in the process. “I thought we could make a a good team, make everyone even happier.”

“In your dreams, Holland.” You know he’s just baiting you, but with the prospect of at least a couple more hours of party ahead of you, your patience for him was limited. “We can be civil at events and make an effort in any deals. But that’s it. We are not, and never will be a team.”

Not giving him time to answer, you swiftly turned on your heels and entered further into the crowd of people celebrating your sister’s upcoming nuptials, determined not to let him ruin this night for you anymore, and not to think about him until the next time you saw him.

Which, it turned out, would be sooner than you had hoped.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The following morning, you had retreated back to your own apartment.

Having cited ‘business’ as your reason, you knew that your family had seen into your lie, and that you wanted to be able to sulk in peace. You’d promised, under threats of bodily harm, to return two days before the wedding, giving you a good four days to get your bad mood out of the way.

The alone time only lasted fifteen hours.

It was drawing close to two a.m. when the banging on your door disturbed you. You hadn’t fallen asleep yet, having been going over some files at your desk, but the loud beating had startled you, and was unexpected enough for you to grab your gun from your bottom draw before approaching the source. Checking the spy hole, a string of curses left your mouth as you unchained and unlocked the door.

Tom fell through the threshold, his brown curls dishevelled, and his knuckles bruised. A thin trail of blood trickled down the side of his face from a slash above his left eyebrow, and a dark patch pooling on his shoulder alluded to there being another injury beneath his shirt. Quickly shutting the door behind him and relocking it, you spun to glare at the man who was now propping himself up against the wall of your hall.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You asked him, taking another survey of his injuries, and noting the yellowing skin under his eye that had a blue tinge. He had never been to your apartment before, but it didn’t shock you that he knew the address, especially as you knew his. Instead, you chose to ask the next most prominent question. “Have you been stabbed or shot?”

“I was close by, needed to tell you something.” He ignores your question, so you move past him to get to your bathroom, noting the wince he tried to hide as he moved to follow. Gingerly sitting on the edge of your bathtub, he watches as you grab a first aid kit from the cabinet under your sink. “You don’t need to do that.”

“I’m not going to stand here and watch you bleed.” You roll your eyes at him as you turn to face him, gesturing towards his shirt as a hint for him to remove it. He does so slowly, grimacing as he tries not to move his shoulder. You can’t help but take a sharp gasp when you see the gash running over the top of his skin, clear that a bullet had skimmed past him and not quite missed. Tom sends you a weak smile as you turn back to grab something to clean the wound. “What were you so desperate to tell me anyway? You could have just called.”

“Like you’d have answered.” Tom jokes as you step forward to begin patching him up, a hiss falling through his lips as you make contact with his injury. “You’ve made it clear that you only want to speak to me on a need-to-know basis, and this was urgent. That’s going to need stitches isn’t it? Just try and stem the bleeding until I get home, Haz is pretty decent at sewing me up.”

Your eyes flashed to meet his for a brief second before returning to his shoulder, nodding at his question. You couldn’t deny that you probably would have rejected his call and had nothing else to say to him in response. Grabbing some gauze, you start to tightly pad over the wound, waiting for him to continue.

“I ran into Jason.” His words promptly stop your actions, and your eyes connect again. Jason Boule was the son of another crime family, one whom which neither your father or Tom’s had gotten ever along with, and one who had been attempting to sabotage both of your businesses for years. “I think they’re trying to get someone into the wedding.”

“What did he say?” You ask, finishing with his shoulder before grabbing something to start cleaning up his face. “And what did you say to make him shoot at you?”

“Asked me to pass on congratulations to the happy couple, claimed he was disappointed he hadn’t received an invite, that he was sure it was going to be a day to remember.” Tom spoke the last few words with gritted teeth as you wiped over the cut along his face. “Then he…I may have said something about how vermin weren’t usually invited to weddings, which is about when he shot at me.”

“You missed something out in the middle.” You smirked as it was Tom’s turn to roll his eyes, having not missed the way he’d changed his mind mid-sentence, passing him an instant-cool pack from your kit. “Hold that on your eye.”

“Thanks.” He muttered, doing as you told him. You waited expectantly, and he groaned before carrying on. “He may have said some shit about you in the middle, which I may have punched him for, but that wasn’t important to the alluding to sending someone to the wedding point.”

“You punched him for bad-mouthing me?”

“Well, yeah. Just because I give you shit for not being as good as me, doesn’t give him any right to. Especially not what he said, which I won’t repeat for the fact it was disgusting.”

Eyes once again locked on his, you found yourself lost for words. Tom had tried to joke it off, but the idea of him defending you, in any situation, felt like a foreign concept. Dropping your gaze down, you sucked in a breath at the realisation of the intimate situation the two of you were in: you, standing between his legs as he sat, shirtless, with only centimetres separating the two of you. As you raised your eyes slowly back to his, you found Tom’s gaze still fixed firmly on your face. A moment passed, and for a brief second you found yourself leaning closer, until a loud buzzing signalled Tom’s phone ringing in his pocket. Snapping yourself out of it, you took a step back, eyes returning to his and forcing your face to remain neutral as he glanced at his screen and sighed.

“You should get home, get your shoulder looked at properly.” Your words shattered the tension that had surrounded you both momentarily, and Tom coughed before nodding and reaching for his discarded shirt. “Thank you, Tom, for coming to tell me.”

“All part of the peace treaty.” His smile looked forced as he pulled his shirt back on and stood, passing you back the ice pack and making his way to leave your apartment. “You wanna tell your Dad-“

“No.” You cut him off quickly, running a hand through your hair as you think through the situation. “I… this wedding is important, and I don’t want him worrying. We can sort it right?”

“OK.” He nods, his usual smirk returning. “You’ll actually have to answer my calls though.”

“It’s a sacrifice I’m sure I can manage.” You roll your eyes at him, and Tom chuckles with a nod before going to unlock your door. “I’ll speak to some of my guys in the morning.”

“And you said we couldn’t be a team.”

“Go home Holland.” You sigh, gently pushing him out of your apartment. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Counting down the hours darling.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

The next few days were filled with flurries of phone calls between yourself and Tom, some more pleasant than others. Almost all of the calls were logistical; how many people the two of you planned on telling, whether or not to station someone at the exits. In an attempt to remain focused, you tried to keep your tone formal and business like, not deviating from the matter at hand.

The problem was Tom had other plans.

You’d be halfway through discussing exit routes when he’d suddenly ask your opinion on his suit for the wedding, or you’d be texting him floor plans and he would send back a picture of options for his shoes. And then of course, once or twice, the two of you would disagree about something and end up fighting, with one of you hanging up on the other before calling back almost immediately because it really wasn’t an issue you had time to ignore. Trying to balance getting along after so many years of competition, in addition to doing everything you could to ignore the moment that had transpired between you the night in your bathroom, as well as calls from your sister about last minute wedding worries was giving you a permanent migraine.

The day before the wedding, he called you just as you were finishing dinner with your family.

“Now’s really not the time.” You murmured, skipping any formal greeting as you stepped into the empty hallway. “I’ve just-“

“Come outside.” He cut you off, tone matching yours. “Got something you’ll wanna see.”

Not giving you a chance to respond, the line cut off, leaving you no choice but to follow his orders. Stepping into the snug, where everyone had retired to after finishing, you flashed an apologetic smile.

“I’ve just got to step out for a bit.” You told them, earning an eye roll from your mother and a curious look from your father. You shook your head slightly, reassuring him not to worry. “Won’t be too long.”

“If you’re not back when I go to bed I will kill you.” Isabelle sighed, head tilting back over the sofa from where she was seated in front of you. “Promise me you’ll stop and say good night.”

“Promise.” You mutter, dipping forward to kiss her forehead before retreating from the room. Hurrying down the hallway, you slipped out of the large front doors to see the outline of Tom leaning against his car, parked close to the doors of your garage. Crossing the gravel, the cool evening breeze made you shiver as you walked the dark to meet him, the hem of your dress grazing against your thighs. Getting close enough to make out his features, you called out to him. “Roddy let you in the gate?”

“Told him I had a meeting with you, he let me in no questions asked.” He hummed; body still angled from where he was leaning on the hood of his jaguar. “Figured you must have told him something.”

“Warned him we could have an unexpected visitor tomorrow so to not question you if you turned up.” You affirmed, crossing your arms around you in an attempt to keep warm. “What is it you wanted to show me?”

Tom’s eyes dropped to your arms and smirked, before pushing off his car and opening the door, tilting his head at it as a signal to get in. You did so wordlessly, sighing in content as he shut the door behind you and the heat of his car engulfed you. The car smelled more like Tom’s aftershave than any air freshener, which only strengthened when Tom had slipped into the driver’s seat moments later. As he reached across you to open the glove box, you held your breath as his arm, exposed from where he’d rolled up his sleeves, grazed your body, mind still determined to rid yourself of any minor attraction to him. Tom pulled out a large envelope, fingers brushing yours as he gave it to you before settling back into his own seat. Sliding out the contents, you found printed emails containing directions to your father’s study, as well as photographs of your family estate, and the name of a company which you were in the middle of a business deal with.

“May or may not have hacked into Boule’s emails.” Tom explained before you could ask, your eyes lifting from the papers in front of you to meet his. “I know we didn’t agree on that, but Paddy is becoming one hell of a whiz kid at it, so asked him to see if he could find anything.”

Smiling at the mention of Tom’s youngest brother, you returned your attention to the documents, speed reading through them as Tom waited for you to reply. Noticing the names on the email addresses, your eyebrows raised in surprise.

“You aren’t kidding about Paddy.” The surprise in your tone made Tom chuckle, and you lifted your gaze back to him. “These were coded, weren’t they?”

“Told you, kids got skills. Think we’re pretty lucky he’s already one of the family, or we’d all be fighting over him.”

“Well at least now we know what Jason’s coming after.”

“And that he’s only sending one guy. We’ll barely have anything to do.”

You chuckled softly at his words, leaning back against the chair and letting your gaze wander over the darkened landscape of your estate. You could only just make out the large marquee that had been erected for the wedding, most of it obscured by the dark as well as part of the house.

“Think we could have always worked together like this?” Tom’s words startle you, and you tilt your head to the side to find him mirroring your position. “You know, if you could have just admitted I was better when we were kids, then it would have been fine.”

You let out a short laugh, watching his lips pull into a grin at the sound. Seeing how smug he was, an idea flashed into your head. Before Tom could realise what was happening, you pushed yourself off your chair and swung your legs to straddle over his, pulling the small knife you had tucked into your belt free to press loosely against his neck.

“What was that about being better than me?” You asked, grinning as his expression changed from one of shock to frustration, his eyes rolling as he raised one hand to push gently at your hip. “You’re getting slow, Holland.”

“Doesn’t count.” He protested, eyes following your hand as you flipped the small blade back into the safety of its holder. “You’ve pulled bigger knives on me than that. Anyway, that wasn’t fair, I’m unarmed.”

“So I wouldn’t find your gun in the armrest box beside us?” You tease, settling back on Tom’s thighs and opening up the compartment to prove your point. “Oh, look, I was right.”

“You’re acting like you know more about me than I do you, but I’m well aware that you have another knife strapped on you, so this works both ways.”

“How do you know I have two?”

“Because you’ve been carrying two knives since you were seventeen after that job we had to do together that almost went wrong, and you only had one.”

“You remember that?”

“Course I do, you stole my car keys and refused to let me drive myself home.”

“Because you’d been shot.”

“I was barely bleeding.”

“That’s because the bullet was still stuck in your ribcage. Just because I hated you didn’t mean I wanted you to die. Besides, I was right. You passed out barely five minutes later.”

“You hated me?”

“Back then? Immensely.”

“And now?”

You hadn’t realised that you’d been getting closer to him, but as Tom asked his question, you felt his breath fan across your face. He’d sat up straighter, his hands sliding up to sit on your waist, whilst yours sat at the base of his chest, your eyes level and lips centimetres apart. Up close, you could see the mark left behind above his eyebrow from the fight a few nights prior, and the yellow tint below his eye where his bruising hadn’t fully healed. Tom’s eyes didn’t leave yours as he waited for you to answer, his thumbs dragging slow circles against your sides.

“Maybe a little less.”

You were sure your words had been inaudible, but Tom somehow seemed to hear them, and he smiled before lifting one of his hands to cup your neck and bring your head forward to close the gap between you. His lips brushed over yours tentatively as your eyes fluttered closed, both of you still hesitant in this unchartered territory. As his tongue swiped across your bottom lip, you emitted a soft sigh, hands tightening around the fabric of his shirt to pull him closer.

Doing so changed the mood from hesitation to excitement, and Tom tightened the grip on your neck as the kiss deepened. His other hand, which had still been sitting on your waist, slowly moved down and dipped below your dress until it was holding the back of your thigh. Breaking the kiss to catch your breath, Tom used his hold on your head to angle it, his lips trailing steadily along your jaw.

“If you leave any marks I’ll stab you.” Your threat was undermined by the moan that immediately followed it, as Tom found the spot by your ear, and you felt him grin against your skin before he pressed a final kiss to you and pulled back to meet your gaze. “I mean it, I’m not walking down the aisle behind my sister covered in hickies. It’ll be your funeral instead.”

“I love it when you threaten to kill me.” He smirks, darting forward to capture your lips once more. Pushing him lightly, he groaned as he fell back against his chair, the hand on your neck falling to his side. “Alright, alright. You don’t need to worry darling, because as much as I want to, the first time I fuck you isn’t going to be in my car.”

“The first time?” You push back from him, raising an eyebrow as he smirked. Tom simply hummed at your question, the hand on your neck dropping to grab both of yours. You waited for him to respond, only growing annoyed as he did nothing but smirk at you. Losing your patience with him, you wrench your hands free to lean across and open the car door. “You’re so infuriating, that’s why we never worked as a team. Your ego.”

“Definitely nothing to do with your temper either.” You weren’t looking at his face as you climbed out of the car, but you could practically hear him roll his eyes. Smoothing out your dress as the cool, evening breeze engulfed you once more, you turned to head back to the house, before he called out behind you. “You’re welcome, by the way. For the information.”

“Thanks!” You shout back, not turning your head as you continue back to the house. Tom’s laugh carries across the driveway, followed by the sound of his car door closing. Reaching the front door, you look back as you step back inside, watching as his engine purred to life before gliding back towards the gates. Quietly closing the door, you begin making your way to your room, noticing that most of your family had already made their way to bed. Stopping at the door before yours, you knock softly before hearing a muffled come in, cracking open the door to smile at your sister. “Just wanted to know if I’m being killed or not?”

“I’ll let you off.” Isabelle rolled her eyes from where she was laying in her bed but grinned back as you leant against the door frame. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, all good.”

“You’d tell me if there was something, right?”

“Absolutely.” You lied, pushing off the wall to cross the room and press a kiss to her cheek. “Now get some beauty sleep, or Adam won’t want to marry you.”

“Like you’d let him back out.” Belle joked, referring to how her husband-to-be worked for the family business. “Love you.”

“Love you.” You hummed back, before leaving the room and entering your own. Flipping on the light, you sighed before preparing for bed, thinking of what was to come in the next twenty-four hours.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“After you darling.”

Your eyes returned to the intruder cornered by the door, thinking over how you’d ended up here. The wedding itself had gone without a hitch; your sister and her now husband had exchanged rings and vows in front of everyone without any noticeable hiccups. You’d spotted Tom as you’d led the bridesmaids down the aisle and had determinedly kept your gaze away from him throughout the ceremony, only exchanging a curt nod as you’d left to take part in the official photo’s, trusting him to keep an eye. It was the only contact you’d had with him until you spotted what you’d been waiting all day to see, Freddie, one of your men, signalling you from across the reception party. Politely excusing yourself from the conversation you were in, you had wordlessly tapped Tom’s arm on your way back to your family house, hearing him do the same before following with Harrison and Tuwaine behind him. With the advanced knowledge you had gained from Paddy’s hacking abilities, the two of you, each flanked by two of your men, had found and cornered the intruder before he’d made it farther than the entry hall.

“I know Boule sent you, and why he sent you, and given the occasion, I don’t have time or patience to waste on your excuses.” You sighed, stopping in front as Freddie and Ralph moved to stand either side of him. Toying with the gun you now held, you watched as his eyes darted between the weapon and your face. “So you’re going to swiftly leave, and run and tell him nice try, but maybe next time. Because if you try anything else, the next knife I throw won’t miss.”

He hadn’t got a chance to respond before Freddie and Ralph had taken him by both arms, nodding at you before escorting him out of the building. You watched them go, as Tom followed suit. For a second, you thought he was leaving too, before he stopped to retrieve the knife you had thrown earlier, still lodged in the door. Wordlessly returning to you, he held the blade out for you to take, and you offered him a tight smile as you swapped it for the gun he had offered you earlier.

“Not that you need it,” Tom joked as you returned the knife to the strap on your inner thigh. Your eyes found his in surprise, watching as he replaced both of the guns he now held in his waistband. “What with you having two and all.”

“Thanks.” You muttered, before spinning on your heel to face his two friends. “We should get back.”

“She can’t possibly have two knives on her?” Harrison hissed to Tom, the three men a few paces behind you as you made your way back to the garden.

“Oh, trust me, she can.”

“Where?”

Smiling to yourself as the fresh air engulfed you once more, you re-entered the marquee to see no change to the scene from when you had left it: some people dancing, some milling around speaking and laughing, others still finishing their food at various tables. Eyes scanning the guests around you, they landed on the bride herself striding across the room determinedly in your direction.

“You lied to me.” She accused, grabbing you by the arm and pulling you to the dancefloor. Isabelle released her grip on you as the music changed to a slower song, wrapping instead wrapping them around you to sway slowly to the music. “You said that everything was fine, and then you sneak off to stop one of Boule’s men breaking into Dad’s study.”

“How the hell did you find out?” The smile was still on your face as the two of you spun in a small circle, mainly because despite her tone, she was still beaming herself. “I didn’t even tell Dad.”

“Roddy told me.” Her tone was smug as her eyes wandered from your face to look around the tent. “After I watched you leave that is. You didn’t really think I wouldn’t notice my own sister leave my wedding?”

“Well, I hoped the wedding thing might cause some distraction.”

“Fat chance.” She snorted, eyes returning to yours. “I’ve got a particular skill set that comes in handy. Don’t think I didn’t see Tom follow.”

“He was the one who found out about it originally.” Your tone changed as you thought over what had transpired between you. “You know he brought an extra gun because he knew I wouldn’t be able to have on today?”

“The fact that it surprises you is hilarious.” She laughs, stepping back from you and unwrapping her arms, only to link her fingers through yours instead. “You know that he’s-“

“Don’t say it.”

“Fine. I’ll let him tell you.”

“What-“

“Mind if I cut in?” You whipped your head to find Tom behind you, watching as he sent a winning smile to your sister. “Congratulations by the way.”

“Thanks Tom, she’s all yours.” Belle grinned back, pulling you in to kiss your cheek, before muttering in your ear, “You’ll thank me eventually.”

Releasing you completely, you watched as she passed Tom with another smile, walking straight into her new husband’s outstretched arms. Your gaze returned to the man in front of you, watching cautiously as he held out his hand.

“Oh, come on.” He laughed, seeing your hesitation. “Think about how happy our father’s will be to see their peace treaty working.”

Rolling your eyes, you placed your hand in his and allow him to pull you closer, your other hand rising up to rest on his shoulder.

“You stormed away last night before I could explain myself.” His voice was low in your ear as he began to move the two of you in time with the music. “Never have been a fan of letting me have the last word.”

“If this is an apology it sucks so far.” You reply, your tone light as you try not to focus on the warmth of his hand on your waist.

“I’m not going to apologise, it wasn’t the right moment.”

“You said that like you’ve been planning it.”

“Only every day since you stole my car keys.”

“Now I know you’re taking the piss.”

Pulling back to meet his gaze, you found nothing but sincerity as he took a breath to explain.

“You got the money we went there for whilst simultaneously holding three men twice your size at gunpoint, and then got us both out of there despite the fact I’d been shot. Then you took my keys and yelled at me whilst taking me home until I passed out.” The look on his face now was nothing like you had ever seen, his eyes searching yours as he continued. “Darling, as much as I really do enjoy the way you look when you’re mad at me, the main reason I’ve been antagonising you more and more the past few years was so I actually have a chance to spend time with you. Now if I’m making a complete twat of myself, say the word and we can continue the way we are and forget I ever said a word of this.”

“Tom-“

“You know you only ever call me that when I’ve been shot.” He mutters, a hint of his usual smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Should I be worried?”

“You know I was already reluctant to admit that I might feel the same way, and now I’m going to take it back...”

Your words died on your lips as he silenced you with his own, dropping your hand to cradle your face as he kissed you softly. You could feel him grinning against you before he pulled back, thumb dragging softly against the skin of your cheek.

“This doesn’t mean I’m going easy on you now, you know.” You mutter, unable to stop your own smile taking over. “I mean, if you think that just because we’re together I’d start letting you-”

“Letting me?” Tom’s bark of laughter inspired your smile to grow even more, the incredulous look in his eyes quickly morphing into his trademark smirk. “I’m sorry, who was it who discovered Boule’s plans for today?”

“Only because you got into a fight over me. Admit it Holland, I’m your weakness. It’s not my fault you’re so in awe of my talents.”

“If I kiss you again, will you stop being so competitive?”

“Depends, maybe you should it try and find out.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

did you like it? did you hate it? let me know either way as well as anything else you want to see me write!

tagging some lovely people: @gonzalezyon @nowayhomeparker @sinisterspidey​ 

[androgynousblackbox]

i think that a lot of the spread of radfem rhetoric happens so easily in younger people is in part because we can all agree to statements like "the patriarchy is bad." but what this leaves out is that the patriarchy harms everyone. yes, including white cishet men. by writing out antiman statements, people like to explain it as critiquing the patriarchy, but they're really just attacking individual actors, which does nothing because when we limit men to negative stereotypes, all that does in reinforce the binary system that hurts everyone which is a product of the patriarchy. so radfems' and terfs' messages about antimen and antitrans rhetoric just perpetuates harm. i got caught up in the same line of thinking when i was younger and could've gone down the radfem path if i hadn't read bell hook's feminism is for everybody. we should all try to make a better effort to remember that feminism is for the benefit of everyone and bullying and harassment never be justified because of identity.

Yeah, radfem is incredibly insidious as it is but where on tumblr people just ate that shit up like it was sugar. That combined with the current online environment where outrage sells and people do think they can say and do everything online, welp, we have just a nice shitstorm.