It's actually pretty fun and not a crime to read fanfiction of media you haven't read/watched yourself. Maybe an author you like from a fandom you're in started writing for this new thing now, and even if you don't know the characters their writing is great. It's like dropping in on the 5th season of a good tv show. Do you know who these people are? Not a clue. Does this fuck? Supremely.
And then maybe you check out their bookmarks and find a bunch more fics from that fandom and hey you sort of know these characters' names by now and the writing is still good, and you're just enjoying yourself! You're not participating in the discourse, you have no idea what's ooc or not and you don't have serious opinions on it. You're just vibing. Taking in the craft. For all you know these are all just conspicuously similarly named OCs. It's harmless as long as you refrain from tricking yourself you actually know what's going on in canon and start posting, that's the devil talking and you mustn't give in.
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Introducing myself with any pronouns
People who keep using she/her: alright fine whatever, most common with cishet/non-queer folks, technically not doing anything wrong but gets annoying when it comes from everyone
People who switch to they/them: most common among queer folks, shows a level of care/attention and recognizes queerness if still defaulting to a strict set of pronouns.
People who use she/they: my favorite so far, mostly my theatre/sfx friends or others who understand deeper queer identities, recognizes that I use more than one set of pronouns though still strangely resistant to masculine terms
People who include he/him, masculine terms: THANK YOU THANK YOU LORD HAVE MERCY FINALLY
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[cracks knuckles]
I stg I’m going to draw this, but I’ve been obsessed with the mirrorvers lately and the idea of mirror Kirk being a mercenary that’s been hired to kill Spock is something that’s so special to me.
Mirror Kirk who *never* even entertained the idea of pledging himself to the Terran Empire, and almost taking Pike’s other eye for even asking. Who’s more comfortable with a phaser in his hand than any pen or a PADD. Kirk who is more than comfortable taking a life than saving it. He’s everything his father tried *not* to be, and he’s more than happy to stain his late father’s memory with a little more bloodshed each and every day.
Mirror Spock, who set his career ablaze when he defied his commanding officer and saved the countless ships that were set to be destroyed and their inhabitants. Who sees the damage his Empire has done to the galaxy and will protect the few remaining people from it as much as he can.
Kirk falling deeply and desperately in love with a man who should be nothing more than his target. A fallen officer who let his kindness get in the way of fame and glory. Wanting him and hating him. Wanting to be the one to pull the trigger, and needing to *kill* any of those who dare harm Spock. Prolonging his mission, his goal, of wiping out his target once and for all.
Spock, who has sworn to never take a life again, falling in love with a man who kills for a living (and most likely for pleasure). Hoping against all hope, that somewhere inside of Kirk there is a man who is capable of the gentleness he knows is buried deep (and I mean deep) inside of him.
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For the yes/no ask game: If you were interested in picking berries and learned all the good spots in your area to collect from, of which there happened to be many, and you found yourself falling into a little community of berry pickers, where you trade locations, recipes, and knowledge of berries, and one day you heard of a little local legend about a lost grove that's supposed to have some of the most delicious berries but no one remembers the path since the markers for it were washed away one particularly strong storm, only a general area of where it might be is recalled, but you're intrigued, so armed with what little information you have and boatload of determination, you pack yourself a little picnic and decide to make a day of it, hiking out to the spot, and it takes the better part of a morning, mostly because you keep stopping to check for berries, but by noon you've reached a place you're pretty sure must be it because the bushes are so high and thick they seem to be trying to drown out the sky itself and the berries (which you one hundred and ten percent recognize 'cause you're cool like that) are plentiful as expected, so you get to work filling your basket and while you're collecting you stumble across a couple little neat trinkets you decide to pocket as well (a spinning top, a key, a dog tag, and an old useless walkie-talkie) and before long you've filled your basket and you start your trek back following your markers, only to see a door halfway back, standing in a frame in the middle of a clearing of a thicket, so, obviously intrigued, you wander over to give a closer look, it's old, vines climbing the brick around the frame, it's closed and the door is painted black, when you try the handle you see it is locked, when you go to the other side you see the door is white, and when you try the handle the same applies, even when you rattle it nothing happens and while you chew on a berry and think on this problem you remember the key you found earlier, and having nothing better to do you dig it out and try it, to find to your delight that it does indeed open, you take the key back out and step through the doorway, closing the door behind you, you try the key on the black side, but it doesn't work, so you shrug and pocket the key once more, returning to your journey out of the woods, only...where are the path markers you tied on the way in?
You wouldn't say you're lost quite yet, but you hurry along the path you're sure you took anyway and you make it out, but your way home is missing, you let out a noise of frustration, you've been robbed, but you have no cell service here so you start walking, luckily home isn't too far, but it is tiring, and by the time you make it to town it's mid-afternoon, you're tired, yet satisfied with your haul, but as you walk into town you make a very disturbing observation, this is not your town, the streets are strange, the architecture too, you make it to where your house should be and there is no building, instead the place is a garden, there are people, tall with long dark hair, and you wave to them to ask where you are, obviously you've made a wrong turn somewhere, but as they come close they seem confused by you and your words, when they speak the language is harsh and punctuated by chirps, like nothing you've ever heard, you can't understand them, so you politely apologize as best you can and try to speak to the next person walking down the road, but with the same results, you try again and again, each time you fail to communicate a sense of unease quickly turning to dread fills you, you can't even find common words in any language you know or gestures with those who try to communicate with you, eventually you find yourself sitting alone outside of town, evening will be here soon, you put away your phone, which you noticed earlier hasn't had service all day, and your fingers brush against the key from the Door, despite how bizarre it sounds, you are struck with the hypothesis that it may be the source of your current mishap, after a long bout of debate, deliberating your options, you decide to try going back to the Door, while it might be a waste of time, it couldn't hurt and maybe you'd solve this problem while walking anyway, so you head back, much more direct than the first time, but it's still dusk by the time you make it, the doorway is just as you left it, you try the key in the lock on the black side of the door again, to no avail, you bang on the door, kick it, try to pick the lock, eventually you circle around to the white side, this time when you try the key, it opens, but when you look through you are certain that is not your world, do you walk through?
No.
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