#anyways yes this is prompted by me having seen way too much discourse around why campal could never involve sex

[the-everqueen]

i think my pinned post summarizes the issue fairly succinctly, pero...it makes me so so uncomfortable when fandom et large decides that a dark-skinned black woman or a distinctly "ethnic" woman is a sex-repulsed aroace lesbian. not because there aren't black and brown women who identify that way, and not because i don't support them or diverse headcanons around a character's sexuality. but because when a lot of people automatically categorize a racialized Other as above/beyond/disgusted by sex, esp. when they otherwise intensely talk about white mlm or light-skinned queer ships as being sexual and romantic, it feels like the message (unintentional or not) is, "black and brown women are not worthy of love or romance. black and brown women need to be Untouchable in order to be acceptable. black and brown women do not warrant devotion or physical intimacy or narratives outside of pain." so many black female characters get labeled aroace in order to remove them as a "threat" to the primary white mlm ship. so many characters coded as brown get labeled as "platonic" partners. oh, fandom will say they're codependent with a male character, but then insist in the same breath that the two characters could NEVER feel romantic or sexual attraction, could NEVER be something besides friends. and i see this primarily from white fans, which is why i want them to consider what impulses led them to these conclusions. you don't have to "ship" the characters, you don't have to subscribe to the same textual readings. but why are you so insistent that yours is the ONLY one?

[herstarburststories]

Calamitous Love

Paring: Dean Winchester x reader

Summary: Dean shows up at your house, but this is a calamitous love. Sooner or later, it's going to destroy.

A/N: I was based and inspired by so many things to get this ready, I can't even start pointing them here. This started as something and escalated to something else, and I'm immensely in love with how it is now. I'm posting a version of this through Dean's POV soon. The prompt is bolded and its for @tvdspngirl314's bday challenge! Hope you like it, honey! And happy bday.

Warnings: language, mentions of sex, fluff, angst, dean is a perv in a cute way, s1 dean Ily

Dean Winchester could easily remember how mad you were that night, after he purposely came to your party uninvited and stood on the porch talking to all your stupid friends. How the one you called the best out of them had wide eyes when she caught him there, and all the reaction she could get was him winking at her.

The man - who was more like a boy, really - with green eyes that matched your garden knew she would run and rush and breathlessly tell you that he was there.

Of course she did. Inez was never one for keeping secrets. He used to wonder if it was a matter of time for the blonde to spread yours.

Her loose lips were useful that night, though. He couldn't even finish his chatter about Chevrolet versus Toyota cars with that James guy before you bursted out of the door ferociously. Dean turned around and waited for many things; well-deserved slapping, indignated tears, a sharp scream strident enough to suppress the loud song which vibrated through everyone's skin like veins.

You surprised him once again.

You closed your eyelashes and took a deep breath, as if to control the burning fire behind your thoughts. The Winchester had seen her in arguments before, the whole ‘my mouth is a loaded gun without a trigger’ thing held an entirely new meaning. He knew you wanted to come at him, and Dean wouldn’t put any guilty on you for that. As you walked towards him, his brittle heart raced like one of those chick flick moments he always mocked about - yet, he couldn't help but stare. Your legs looked so good in that light, pretty ass that Dean loved to grab wrapped in a tight red skirt. You had a white tank with cleavage on and your hair was, as usual, free on its widest way. The hunter adored how your brown sea could never seem not to be a mess, and how you made chaos marvelous like a natural. He surely needed that in his life.

Isn’t it all you had been since the very beginning, honestly? Isn’t it what love utterly is when the lights are dim and the weather changes? Cutting right to the bone like a surgeon, you were that one thing, that one hand that would touch Dean’s weary head and make it rest, those unique lips who could whisper tales of hope in the backseat of his car and he could actually believe it. The one, you know, that one person who didn’t make the eldest Winchester feel like he cared more than he was cared for. He often experienced that math problem, dad never seemed to be satisfied enough to be proud of him, and Sam was always talking about how he wanted to leave someday.

‘’Dean.’’ You said and your tone was harsh, a single eyebrow arched with a quiet defying question. The green eyed man wouldn't be shocked if you had called him out before when he was too busy paying attention to you to notice. ‘’Let's go to the garden.’’

And then you grabbed his wrist, sneaking in through the rusting garden gates in the back of your house. Such mere touch put his skin on flames. So many others, mostly monsters or people who were really monsters at heart, already chained his hands and he always broke the cuffs. This time, in your hands, Dean almost wished he could stay put, grounded to something else other than bloody walls and oily guns. He missed you so much. The way your fingers felt on his cheeks, how you'd allow him to kiss every inch of your body, and how you seemed to understand.

Anyway, it wasn't time for him to turn sentimental just yet. Leave it to Sam. 

Dean’s boots were cruel against the grass, walking side by side with your high heels ones. Above all the partying noise, they both were quiet for once, as if they were going into a clandestine meeting.

He hated it.

‘’What the fuck are you doing here?’’ you turned around in a swift move before crossing your arms. It took a lot of self control not to glare at your breast, which is why Dean didn’t. He pictured it wasn’t that bed since he was only glancing for a few seconds and the malicious smirk on his face faded into him licking his bottom lip through the memories of fucking, grabbing and playing with them. You rolled your eyes, impressed by my immature behavior. ‘’Winchester, I asked what you are doing here.’’

Always so dominant in every situation but in bed. He sighed to himself, man, I can’t lose her.

‘’Listen, Y/N/N, I’m sorry.’’

‘’You are sorry? You can take your apologies and put them in your sorry ass till’ they come out of your mouth, Dean.’’ And, of course, stubborn. Dean Winchester wouldn't be so attracted to you in any other way. Frisky women always had the best him.

He groaned, ‘’Y/N, come on, it wasn't like that--’’

You interrupted his reasoning with a laugh empty of joy: ‘’You left me. You just walked away. No calls, no texts, just left. You promised you wouldn't. You said I could trust you.’’

‘’And you can!’’

He wasn’t able to blame you for that. Still, it broke him to hear every casual syllable in raw honesty. Dean would kill for you, and you didn’t even trust him because he ran away without any note, or previous warning, or anything. If only he could do the trick of just opening his mouth and allowing his emotions to come arrive, like Sam did all the time. All he tried to be, his little brother was simply born that way. He could never be like Sammy and you deserved a guy like him. Yet, the bruised man - more like a scared boy, really - remained in front of you. Because, for once, Dean wanted to act selfish and get it what he craved for. Just this once.

‘’To leave? Sure.’’ Nonetheless, you never learned how to read his mind, so you just aim a wry smile at him. ‘’Sorry, pal. I already have my mom to do that.’’

In that moment, every word you said was a stone designed to shatter him, and it was working fatefully. Sometimes, the green eyed hunter wished he was the one being left instead of leaving people behind. But how could you know that? It's the job side effect.

Taking a deep breath, your name is leaving his lips calmly. The most calm he had ever been since my three childhood years. ‘’Y/N…’’

‘’No, Dean.’’ You spoke. Because his forest eyes matched a lot with the grass in your garden under that dim light, almost like he was made to be there and you didn’t think you could do it again; lose him. It was too much.

‘’Dang, woman. I'm trying to explain!’’

‘’No, you are trying to come up with a stupid lie to cover up whatever you were doing for two weeks! I'm not stupid and I know you.’’ You accused, exasperatedly slapping your own tights. You were right, he had showed up to your party with a dumb excuse on his tongue, ready to tell you anything but the truth. Fuck, how the short haired hunter wanted you to have the imaginary money to buy one of his cheap lies. ‘’Tell me the truth. Don't come up with my dad needed help with a car and all that. What happened to you, Dean?’’

‘’I can't tell you.’’ He shrugged in frustration. 

I want to tell you everything, even the details in the corner, the monster in the forest.

You smile sarcastically, ‘’I don't see a fold on your lips.’’

But I can’t.

Dean huffed, pursing his lips. ‘’You would hate me.’’

You would think I’m a crazy liar.

‘’I already do.’’

You can be so violent when hurt. You both have bullets in different body parts, and there you are trying to shoot him. Modern Romeo and Juliet, a hunter romance; they try to kill each other instead of the evil thing.

‘’Y/N, you are gonna think I'm crazy.’’ He wiped his face, exasperated for you to change the subject.

Your lips were shut, the light reflected on you. Dean was glaring at you in a quiet desire for you to stay, to make him stay. But you stand still, looking away with delicate woe contorting your features.

It was clear after a hunt when the hunter should leave the town. And it was clear now that he killed any hope for them that Dean shall do what he usually does after a case. Nodding with a sigh, started to walk away.

But you stopped him.

‘’What are you doing?’’ You, in fact, sounded confused. Dean’s eyebrows knitted together, unsure if you two were having the conversation he thought you were not even one minute ago.

The answer resonated more like a question than anything: ‘’Leaving?’’

Your next words were the equivalent to the three ones he had never dared to say. ‘’I don't want you to leave.’’

Yes, the Winchester’s heart was pouring as fast as it was when he went on his first hunt. Yes, he could hear an old rock song playing when you have that look on your face. Yes, he knew he was acting like Sammy and all his cheesy discourses right now.

Who cares?

Apart from all that, Dean offered you a cocky smile. ‘’What do you want, sweetheart?’’

‘’Kiss me.’’

And he did. You trusted him in the garden and he got you back. Dean kissed you in the porch in front of all your stupid friends, too. And then he kissed you again in my car under the streetlight and in so many other uncountable places.

He was the person who got left a few years after that. As if his sorrow had become the prey for some cosmic joke. Sammy left for Stanford and it made his dad, well, more dad than usual. The weird thing was, inside of the grief of being left, Dean understood what he did to you. He had a lot of blood in his hands, enough to turn an ocean red if he ever tried to clean them, but I knew that leaving you was the worst thing that I had ever done.

Well, at least that was what two bottles of Whiskey helped him to get to.

Dean guessed he got what you felt on your porch that night as well. When he walked in, you knew you'd forgive him but you needed to sting back. As Sam left, his older brother already knew he'd forgive him, too. Dean fought about it, and I felt betrayed- wounded animals still attack. But he had forgave him the moment he missed him.

You forgave Dean too, and nowadays he resented for that with an insufferable regret. Because then he told you the truth about the world and showed you his scars. He kissed you, and your lips found every ugly in him. Still, they kept asking him for more. Your lips were the bed for my monster to sleep under.

Real monsters found them.

A few years later, the trio was in a town. You had a vacation from college - you dated a hunter with 5 bucks to his name, and you were studying journalism in a conceited university. It made no sense to Dean sometimes. All you asked for was to spend your free time with him and a call each night to make sure he was alive, which he gave you happily. Besides finding a way to go near your city at least once a month, more for himself than anything else. How did he get so lucky?

You liked certain aspects of the hunter life, surprisingly. The driving away, the creatures, even the restaurants. ‘’Come on, you guys hunt monsters. How cool is that? Also just driving, eating in a new place everyday. Did I mention monsters are real? You guys are like heroes!’’

He shook his head at your optimism, stroking your naked form gently that night.‘’We aren't here, Y/N. This life, it ends early and bloody. There is no place for white fancies and normal.’’

‘’Who said that I want that?’’ You mocked right before pressing your lips to the hickey on his neck, gaining a content groan from Dean. ‘’You monsters. As far as I'm concerned, you are a hero. My hero.’’ You add a subtle joke. ‘’Like a fairytale.’’

He scoffed and pulled you closer. ‘’More like a horror movie.’’ 

‘’Haven’t you read fairytales?’’ 

‘’No, but I did see the porn version.’’ Done with talking, he got on top of you, wearing that lopsided grin that started it all over again.

Years back, he asked you what you wanted. And you said, kiss me.

You kept saying that for a decade. Growing that calamitous love, feeding it with stolen glances and touches. If you knew what’s next, would you do it again?

Now you are laying on the ground as he got on my knees and pulled you closer. You are almost dead, a half lifeless body, but you hold on so tight to life, gasping for it. His stubborn girl who he loved so.

Your voice, usually so determined, is barely a whimper. ‘’Everyone wants a fairytale love.’’

‘’What? Don’t get sentimental on me, Y/N. You aren’t gonna die.’’ Dean says exasperated. It isn’t blind faith, unrealistic optimism or anything like this. It’s denial, one of the stages of grief he’s familiar with. It lives with him, as loyal as a dog, as present as a long lost mother’s love; he ignores the acceptance and hope, jumping right into anger, guilt, denial, and bargains with the devil. As if death is a champagne problem he can just drink and be done with because hey, if you can’t lose something, then you won’t right? Right? And if you do lose it, then you’ll just die too. Someone loses oxygen, they die. Someone loses too much blood, they die.

He will die if he loses you, he will. Dean is devastatingly sure of that. He can feel it in his bones. If you die, he dies. His body, his cicatrized soul was made out of in woe. That man - scared little boy like he was when Mary died, really -, He knows sadness like an old lover who always visits, and death is an old friend who always shakes his hands and appears without an invite. Dean Winchester knows pain, alright? Ask any person, he’s the Rome for men, built in ruins despise the beauty of good.

But this? No. He can’t survive. It isn’t possible that someone can hold so much suffering and agony. Skin and bone can only take so many hematomas. 

‘’Dean, shut up.’’ You place your hand on his cheek and Dean can’t help but lean in. His green eyes are glistening, the memory of the garden reminiscing in the back of your mind. ‘’I’ve wanted a fairytale love since I was a kid and my dad used to read the books my mom left on the shelf for me. So, in my defense, I never actually read them.’’

‘’Is this what a fairytale looks to you?’’ The eldest Winchester asks, not missing how your touch is colder against him. Where’s Sam with the car? Where’s a miracle? Where’s the justice and fair things and anything good? Dying in his arms, sinking her fingernails into his skin.

‘’The original ones, yes. They are just like that.’’ You chortle, but what’s meant to sound like happiness develops into a cough. All the energy and strength you have are used to push the words. You need Dean to know. ‘’I don't regret anything. You loved me, and I loved you. This is good. I don’t want your silly little mind to think any other way. You aren’t the villain in my story, Dean. You are the…’’ You’re interrupted by your own body giving up on you at an alarming rate, more bloodstained coughing.

‘’Don’t speak, honey. You’ll be alright, okay? No goodbye, we don’t do goodbye. You’ll be alright. Just keep yourself awake, ok?’’ Dean doesn’t know what to do other than hold you. What does one do with all the throbbing aches? He can’t say he will see you in heaven if you die. Staying with you for ten years was heaven already and this is the price he pays. That’s like when the ocean drains in a flash right in front of your eyes and someone tells you to swim in the sky instead. He can’t jump high enough to get it, he isn’t tall enough to get it. But God, Dean can’t just give up, he can’t just let you go. You are bleeding out and he’s dying with you. ‘’Please.’’ The Winchester pleas. ‘’Don’t leave me. Please.’’

If this is how you die and you can only pick up some words to say, you need to spell love. You need Dean Winchester to know he was loved with your last breath, there’s no better use to life other than love. Therefore, it’s easy to know what to voice when you look into his eyes one last time. ‘’I love you.’’

Through the agony, Dean gives you the sort of smile... You know, the sort of smile that can only be described by I put my home on fire, so I could eat all the flames and all the bright blaze is in my teeth now. Because something is burning and you are becoming ashes, but you love this. You love that boy and he loves you. You’d do it all again. He rests his forehead against yours and you can feel his tears on your face, his hands holding you for dear life.

‘’I love you too.’’

It’s a good thing to hear as you close your eyes.

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[carinyms]

I've scrolled through a lot of discourse on episode 4 of Loki and I need to talk about it

(good lord its a whole essay im sorry)

I gave myself a headache from crying while watching this. (I joined the Loki fandom post-IW so I’ve never had to see him die before while emotionally invested and boy!!! Is it doing things to my fragile psyche!!). But now I’m rehydrated and more stable and ready to party so let’s go

Right off the bat, I loved this episode — loved it loved it loved it. Silly, manic in-shock Loki is gone and shit is getting real. My thought while watching this was truly “wow this is my favorite episode so far” and damn am I in a minority with this opinion lol.

So here’s my perspective on some of the discourse flying around, and just general thoughts

On the whole ‘Narcissist’ thing:

IMO, Mobius saying this means nothing: he’s mad and he’s spouted lies at Loki to push his buttons before (see: every interaction they’ve had since episode 1).

Loki saying this to Sif-- well, Loki is and always has been an unreliable narrator on himself. The major theme of this show is that he doesn’t really know who he is, deep down, and he’s trying to figure it out. The TVA is taking advantage of this, and even though he’s trying to stay above it all throughout the series, he's still in a really impressionable spot and absorbing what others tell him about himself. (not to mention this scene is literal torture and he’s already proven that he’ll say whatever he needs to to get out of it.)

But he does admit one true thing when he says “It’s because I’m scared of being alone.” (And like wow okay same don’t mind my tears) but here’s a big brain idea!

Sif pulls him up and says ‘You are alone, and you always will be’, which is like, WOW that’s cruel after what he said, but it makes me ask wonder: Sif is sentient in this scene, but obviously it’s not really her. Who’s controlling her? And why is it so important for them to make sure Loki thinks he’s alone? I’d go as far as to wager that Sif never even said this to Loki, the big bad made this up. (he admits he forgot about this ever happening, I doubt he’d remember what she said.)

I think the nexus event on Lamentis that caused the branch was two Loki’s joining sides. Or, Loki no longer being alone. Loki insists while talking to Mobius that “she’s not my partner!” but she was, and they were partners from the moment they grabbed hands on Lamentis — right when the timeline broke off. I think Loki variants teaming up is the biggest threat to whoever is pulling the strings here — that’s why the post-credit scene is so significant. (Is Loki the only person who has multiple variants of himself who've escaped the TVA?)

And here’s where I’m gonna get salty--so I apologize but i need to rant about this-- but it’s seriously pissing me off that so many people are intentionally reading this as Loki/Sylvie and then being mad about it when that’s clearly not what’s happening and why is everyone acting like Mobius with one angry jealous brain cell and no critical thinking about the context of the characters.

If people ship it that’s chill, but for the people who are against it—it’s clearly supposed to be platonic, and it’s so upsetting that in the year of our lord 2021 we still can’t have a man and woman hold hands without people saying it’s proof they want to f*ck each other, like what in the misogyny??? STOP. This show was written by a bi woman and Tom the-most-emotionally-sensitive-man-on-this-planet Hiddleston — let them display an intimate loving friendship goddammit. This isn’t romance, this is Loki learning how to admit he cares for someone who cares for him in return — something he hasn’t experienced a whole lot of and clearly doesn’t know how to navigate.

(You have permission to personally come at me if it actually turns out to be romantic by the end of the show—but as of right now I will die on this hill.)

Him putting his hands on her shoulders to me was a clear indication he wanted to hug her, and I’d like to think he would have told her he cares about her, and that they can figure it out together. Because these are two characters who’ve never had anyone else to rely on and trust, and for the first time they’re not alone.

And I have to think about what prompted this from Loki. He just lost Mobius the moment after he called him friend. The way I see it, he’s just realized the true gravity of what they’re up against, and Loki is suddenly very afraid of losing Sylvie too before he tells her cares about her, of dying truly alone because he never told anyone what they meant to him. (Don’t think about this in the context of him also having watched his entire family die knowing he never told Frigga or Thor how much he loved them either don’t think about it—) He’s realized, finally, that he has doesn’t have to be alone, that he can choose to be close to people and have friends. And god it’s so heartbreaking that he never got to hug her or have that moment with her. I really hope they get that in the end. I hope he gets it with Mobius. I hope they have a group hug. I'm upset again.

Okay, deep breath, ANYWAY.

Hopefully this didn’t come off as attacking anyone else’s opinions.

Personally, I love this character so much, I’m just so happy to be seeing him in his own storyline that they can’t go wrong here. Objectively I think the production is amazing, and personally I love they way Loki’s character has been explored so far. (Yea yea, was I HOPING that the bad-memory loop would morph into Sanctuary and Thanos and like a full exploration of his true worst memories? Yes but let’s be honest my whump needs will never be met in canon and I have to accept that lol.)

Honestly I left all my own meta about this character at the door when the series started, because for me the opinions I’ve formed from the hundreds of (amazing) fics and meta I’ve read on this character and what’s true in canon are basically inseparable at this point, and no portrayal is going to live up to the way Loki exists in my head. Canon Loki and fic Loki are two different characters and I can enjoy both at the same time :) I’ve just loved seeing the character get given the different dimensions he deserves, and written by people who care about his story.

Also, it’s not over! If he was dead and this was it I’d be very upset, but this is the rock bottom of the storyline, and I think the whole next two episodes will be the build back up. I trust it’s gonna be worth it. SO hyped for flaming sword Loki. I would die for Sylvie, but I’m excited to see him on his own again.

My current most pressing questions are:

-what was the fallout of Sylvie’s bombing the timeline? (Have we seen that yet, am I just dumb and missing something?)

-Obviously, who’s behind it all? (Kang? Is there a head honcho Very Evil Loki at the top?)

-How much does Ravonna actually know, and to what extent is she just a pawn too? She asked Sylvie to prune her— she’s probably also been duped here.

-Is everything we learned about the sacred timeline BS? How much of what the TVA workers believe is real?

-my favorite theory so far is that the war of the timelines miss minutes talks about hasn’t actually happened yet, maybe making setting that into motion is the true endgame, leading into Multiverse of Madness?

(Side note: holy HELL im so excited for this soundtrack to drop on Spotify. It’s SO AMAZING I had CHILLS in the end credits.)

Open invitation to discuss anything with me if you feel inclined! :)

[starberry-cupcake]

Hey, you’re entitled to do whatever you’d like with your fic, but I would like to say that a rude comment shouldn’t take away from the work you put into writing something. I would also like to remind you that most people in the les mis fandom are accepting of all interpretations of character because everyone sees them in a unique way (I’m sorry you’ve come across someone who isn’t used to this). I wouldn’t want one person to ruin a rather kind fandom for you, but I understand what you’re saying.

Thank you so much! I really appreciate the support ♥ you’re very kind. 

I’m going to answer this on read more because it’s a long story, my sad pathetic life in the les mis fandom, I was weary of sharing it but, at this point in my life, I think I’ve grown enough to handle it. So, I’ll give it a go. Of course, this is just my personal experience and doesn’t mean everyone agrees, I’m sure most people have a great fandom experience in it and I just didn’t handle anything well.

I’ve been in the fandom for a while, but I think I came into the online tumblr part of it in a rather complicated time, because my experience wasn’t all that good. 

I didn’t have one singular awful experience but I never felt a part of the fandom because there were a lot of groups in which I didn’t quite fit in and never felt very welcomed in general. 

When I started doing the summaries, I didn’t expect them to have positive feedback because of this, I never felt like I was enough for the fandom, if that makes sense. I thought that maybe, since time had passed, the lines were more blurred and the fandom was more chill and that’s why I was able to have such positive conversations with people without animosity. 

To me, it was always a scary fandom to be around, there are a lot of amazing people in it, a lot of great people, a lot of super smart people, but there was also always a lot of...elitism? I don’t know if that’s the right word, but I felt like I was never enough to access the fandom. Like I was always doing something wrong, that I would never know enough and that no matter what I did I was going to be eventually called out for something I did wrong (there was an overlap of peak tumblr social justice movement and online call out culture and peak les mis fandom on tumblr post 2012 movie that made it all more intense). 

I wrote a lot of Les Mis fic, most of which I’ve deleted because I didn’t like it, some of which is still the most personally important stuff I’ve written, regardless of how good or bad it is. There’s probably 2 fics I won’t delete ever, even if I end up disliking the writing, because of what they mean to me personally. 

But the Les Mis fandom is the only one of all the fandoms I’ve written for that I always felt I wasn’t good enough to even try. I got to a point in which I felt very discouraged with this overall sense of never being enough in any part of fandom and pretty much gave up on writing for it altogether. It’s the only fandom I ever chose to stop writing for because I felt I couldn’t live up to the demands of the fandom and I was afraid of the consequences of messing up. 

There are three big layers of issues for me in this, I’ll try to explain myself as best as I can. 

First (and this is true for every fandom, but in this one I felt it the most strongly at the time I was active in it), there was the fact that there were groups of fandom famous people who had accessibility that was difficult to obtain. Recommendation blogs sharing your work, artists drawing for your fics, other fandom famous authors recommending your stuff, that kind of things make fics more visible. I’ve never been the kind of person to promote my stuff too much because I don’t have the confidence for it, but networking in fandom is a part of the job if you want your stuff to be seen, for some folk being in the midst of fame comes easily and others work for it, but the truth is that community helps you have more feedback. 

I was never anywhere close to the fandom famous circles, my fics were recommended like maybe 3 times at best, and I am pretty much incompetent for social interactions, but I was also a bit scared of the whole group. 

I remember at one time there was a teenager who was called out for tracing art and it became a witch hunt to the point that someone made a blog specifically to call this teenager out on tracing and the kid closed their blog after all the aggression (I understand tracing is a problem but this kid was super young and being bullied like that was scary). I remember blogs posting humiliating bingo cards of fic tropes for certain ships and calling out writers for using them. I saw people coming at a friend’s comment section for the smallest things about a certain character’s interpretation. These things made me weary and I felt like trying to access that part of the fandom wasn’t going to be good for my emotional and mental stability. 

It wasn’t that fandom famous people were mean or cruel or unfair, not at all, there was a certain sense of...intensity in everything that happened. Some people found themselves in the circle and didn’t understand the power they had when they called out one person or recommended another. Fanon interpretations or ships became super accepted because some of these folks used them, to the point that your fic or art was invisible if you didn’t have that ship or interpretation in it, to the point that people started thinking some things were brick canon because of tropes born out of these folks. It wasn’t that they were intentionally moving that side of the fandom around but that things were so intense that fandom came and went in the direction these people did, even unintentionally. 

(And I say “part of the fandom” because, at that time, I felt the fandom was fragmented in the historical brick side, the modern au tumblr side, the musical side, and those who were a blend.)

The next issue I had was with what I mentioned of the overlay of tumblr’s social justice peak and the Les Mis modern au fandom peak, which is in part coincidental and in part, I assume, something that comes with the Les Mis territory, with it being a socially and politically compromised piece of work. 

People became incredibly aggressive towards how representation and diversity had to be handled on the Les Mis characterizations. I witnessed people calling others racist for the sole fact of writing Enjolras as a white person. There was a popular discourse about how those who didn’t identify in a certain way should be forbidden to write the characters in that way. There were people calling others toxic and abusive for shipping a certain ship and not another. It got really intense. 

This was around 2013, maybe early 2014, to give you an idea. It made me super weary of fucking up. Every time I added something that I felt could be seen under the social justice microscope, I apologized profusely before and after and begged people to call me out if something was wrong. I never felt, in any other fandom, that I was actually being a horrible person just for potentially making a mistake in characterization. I realized later that this was a very bad thing for my OCD and my obsessive episodes, which had become too strong in 2014, and it prompted a lot of ramifications I won’t talk about but yes, the mixture of Les Mis fandom and tumblr aggression was not good. 

The third and final thing that held me back, which holds me back for all my fics, is language. I’m not an English speaker. I don’t live nor have I ever traveled anywhere where English is spoken regularly. I write in Spanish. However, all my fics are in English because it’s the bridge language for fandom. That’s the language that has the most hosting platforms, the most fandom interaction, the most feedback, where all the online fandom movement is held. It’s my choice to use English for my fic, and it’s my responsibility if I fuck up, but I feel like from the get go I’m at a disadvantage when I feel I can’t quite give the same meaning to words as I would in my language. I always feel that my English writing is sub par in comparison to my native language. But I choose to sacrifice that in order to have more fandom interaction and meet more people. 

All in all, I think this comment hit me hard because with these summaries I felt I was finally having a good relationship with the fandom. That what I said was finally valid, whether right or wrong. That maybe the problems I had were caused by my inability to handle things at the time and by how intense tumblr in general was then and that things now could be different. And in the midst of that, I get this comment and all of this came rushing back to me. This feeling of not being good enough this fandom has always given me. 

That fic in particular is a super short very irrelevant ficlet I wrote for one Halloween almost 4 years ago I think now, a vampire and werewolf au. It isn’t meaningful or important, but I had a universe in my mind I wanted to somewhat explore. I don’t mind deleting it and keeping it as a personal copy just for me, it’s not one of my best works nor is it relevant to the fandom. But the aggression of the comment brought back this whole experience and reminded me why I had stepped out in the first place. 

Anyway, thanks so much for your nice message and your encouragement, it’s nice to see there are good people, accepting people around ♥ sorry for this long answer, but maybe it gives more context for my reaction that may seem very extreme without it. 

[randomnessunicorn-imagine]

hOI!!! May you please do "I'LL PROTECT YOU! I'M BATMAN!" with UF Sans from the meme prompt? Thanks!!😘

— Post Scriptum: This prompt is so old but I had no time and inspiration for thinking about fanfictions before, so I am doing it now. Even now, the reader has a name that is neutral, since I prefer like this, their name is Alex, simple. It’s totally random-!I hope someone can enjoy it since I am not truly sure if it’s good enough eue’’

Prompt: “I’ll protect you! I am Batman!” ( From this list )Pairing: Fell! Sans x Neutral! ReaderRating: Green (General contents)

A Drunky Mess ~

It should have been a calm and relaxing afternoon and Alex should have spent this day in peace. Sadly, a certain skeleton has decided to get drunk just today. Actually, Sans had promised to Alex that this was the last bottle he touched but it was not true. There were so many bottles he had not only touched, it was like he was doing love with them since he was hitting to the bottle like Gollum was attached to his precious, so it was not a beautiful picture since it appeared very creepy and Sans was still a skeleton. The sense of macabre was part of his nature. Alex did not know the reason why he was drinking since when they came back home, he was already in those miserable conditions and Alex was looking at him with pity.Actually, those last days Alex was very busy with their job so they stayed by themselves most of the time and Sans could not tolerate to be ignored like this so he felt a little offended like he was the child who felt less loved by his mother. He was losing time and he hated working so much, it was a waste of energy and time for him. Sans said he did not want to be part of this capitalist society to justify his laziness. He felt just like the protagonist of the famous movie Fight Club, the man without a name who lived his life without any purpose and his main passion was reading Ikea’s magazines searching for the perfect furnishings that would have given to him the peace of mind. It was impossible anyway, and even this drunk Sans was telling free nonsense without a purpose. At least, he did not start to frequent clubs of terminally ill patients who got testicular cancer, and it would have been so problematic. Maybe Sans would have been a member of the A.A. if he kept on drinking like this. Alex tried so hard to dissuade him asking for an explication about his obscene behaviour, then Sans looked at them with a sad expression confessing the truth. Alex was avoiding him because they did not want to stay with him anymore for some mysterious reasons. The eyes of Alex became wetter and they felt a warm feeling in their heart since he seemed so serious in his drunkenness and everybody knew drunk people never lied. They hugged him instantly, patting their skull since this was a scene too adorable to be denied. «I was just busy with my job, you know? It’s the thing people do for living and pay their bills and all that capitalist stuff…», Alex said ironically, laughing a little, «That thing you should do but you are a lazy ass…», they tried to be playful even if this phrase was a hidden critique. It seemed, this explication did not help Sans to stay better because he felt tired and lost anyway, «Ouch—Ya’re gonna to become a maniac worker like my bro, fuu–», he said with confusion in his voice and then he started to sob searching for the bottle that was his only friend and his only hope in this moment. Alex was losing their patience since he acted like a little child and maybe they had to behave like Papyrus to have some consideration from this impertinent skeleton. «So, do you want I ask to Papyrus to kick your ass or you decide to be less lazy and act like a mature person, hum? ». It seemed “Papyrus” was like the magical word because Sans’ sockets became black and he started to panic, sweating like he already went out of a sauna but the sense of looseness was not the same.  Sans could not even speak and he felt pain in his ass yet so maybe it was the time he could stop with this awful show. Alex felt a little sad because it seemed Sans listened only to his brother ignoring them like they were not truly important. So many times, they have told to him to stop with those bad habits but he has never considered their opinion like it was not worthy. Only now, Alex realized it, and this consideration filled their heart with rage and gloom. Their expression became darker, and with a low tone of voice they said, «Ah, I am not going to call your brother, I don’t want to disturb him.» Sans seemed more relieved after this conclusion. Before he could answer, Alex continued their discourse, «Since you are unable to be serious and you don’t give a shit about me and my worries, I think I will go. Cheers to you-!». Then, Alex took their things moving towards the door because maybe Sans was not the only one who needed to drink.

Even if he was drunk, he could understand Alex was mad at him and they had all the reasons to consider him like a total insensitive bastard. Before they could leave, he started screaming that he did not mean it and he cared a lot about them. Sans was just a freak, so Alex was free to leave him since they had kept persevering to him even if he did not deserve anything. Then, his voice became harsher and the act of speaking seemed so difficult to Sans since his words turned into sighs and he exploded in tears like a little baby. Since he was still drunk, Alex doubted he could remember this conversation since it seemed he was suffering so much and maybe the alcohol was not helping him to dissimulate this stress. Exhaling a deep breath, Alex turned around saying they were sorry but they felt truly sad for his childish behaviour, «Ah, ok… We both crossed the line, and maybe you should stop to drink and I should stop to overwork myself… Ok?». Alex got closer to Sans showing a little smile, maybe it was all useless since he was going to forget everything when he became sober, but Alex wanted to try anyway. Sans looked at them like a frustrated dog, «Uhm… You are not going to leave me…?», that was not suppose to be a question because he wanted them to say the same phrase, but he was still unsure. Then, Alex embraced him kissing his bone cheek and his crying get intensified since his emotions were so much and he could not understand his mind anymore. «I am not going to leave you but stop to cry, you are such a crybaby. Where is the badass skeleton I know?», Sans sniffed in a way that was not that badass and Alex laughed. He grunted full of embarrassment because he had to be strong and cool for them, without acting like a spoiled baby. Sans, trying to act chillier than ever, stood up on his feet staggering like a monkey, then he took the bottle and Alex started to worry he was still too drunk. He raised the bottle up, screaming between his sobs, «Yeah, you’re right. I decide, I stop with this shit–», he looked the bottle with the most hostile glare he could ever do even if it appeared funny because he did not appear scary, at all. Then, he continued saying, «You know, you said I don’t have a job, but I actually have and it’s very cool.» he was raving again and Alex looked at him with curiosity, asking, «Oh, really? And which one?» they raised an eyebrow, dubious. «I’m a fucking hero babe, and if I’m drunk I can’t protect you… Yeah!», it seemed he had a revelation, « I’LL PROTECT YOU! I’M BATMAN!». Alex face palmed themselves but it was better if they would have seen the next scene because Sans’ drunkenness was still exponential. He hit his skull with the same bottle, like it was a normal thing, then he started laughing like a mad man saying he was fine and it was the final demonstration of his coolness because he was still strong and worthy to be their mate. Yes, it was crazy but Alex was happy seeing the usual jerk they loved so much. Maybe Alex had to be the one to protect him especially in these weird situations where Sans lost his rationality becoming a freak of nonsense.