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lostloveletters · 4 months

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A Long, Lonely Time (David Webster x Reader)

Summary: You don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone, but when Webster returns to Easy Company, you find it difficult to reckon with the very real possibility of losing him again, maybe even for good.

Note: Gender neutral reader, and no descriptors are used. The draft script of episode 3 provides more background on Webster transferring into Easy Company, which isn’t explained in the show for some reason (a shame because they cut out some pretty great scenes), but I included a handful of the details here. This is based on the fictional portrayals in the HBO miniseries and not the real individuals. Do not interact if you’re under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: Hurt/angst with comfort. Mentions of Eugene Jackson’s death. Playing with the timeline of episode 8 a little bit. Probably some other historical inaccuracies. Do not interact if you’re under 18.

Two days. David Webster had only been back for two days, and you kissed him.

Your crush on him had hibernated in his absence, frozen in a forest with the rest of you. It thawed as soon as you saw him for the first time in months.

The other members of Easy weren’t so quick to warm up to him again. No matter, it just gave you more time to spend with him. You appreciated how from the moment the two of you first bonded over your shared love of literature, he was genuinely interested in your thoughts and opinions, assuaging your fears that you’d be a lackluster companion to the Ivy Leaguer.

He could’ve taken the easy route as others with a privileged background like his had done and allowed his social status to get himself a cushy position. However, he, like Caption Nixon, inexplicably chose the rest of you. Unlike Nixon and yet just as inexplicable, he rejected any promotions. Odd, yet admirable, like when he’d approached Winters in Aldbourne after D-Day, requesting to transfer from Fox to Easy to put his skills as an assistant machine gunner to better use.

None of that mattered to your comrades anymore, but as a medic, you appreciated that he took recovering from being wounded seriously. You told him such, and he smiled, confessing that he had used his stint in the hospital for one selfish indulgence. Later, when the two of you were alone; he pulled a brown paper package from his pack, privately presenting you with a gift he got his hands on for you. Ripping back the wrapping, you beamed when you saw the cover of a brand new ASE copy of The Postman Always Rings Twice.

Your worn copy of Jane Eyre had been waterlogged from the snow and rendered illegible. New books were low priority in the Bois Jacques, so you were left without reading material for longer than you would’ve liked.

The book was the first time in what felt like years you’d received a gift. You had almost forgotten how nice it was, especially something so thoughtful. So you kissed him, impulsively, passionately, threading your fingers through his hair to pull him closer, your other hand gripping the book tightly.

He kissed you back with a tenderness that had long since become foreign to you and felt almost too overwhelming as a result. His lips were soft and warm compared to yours, chapped from weeks of unrelenting cold, but he was undeterred. His hands held your waist, his fingers gently pressing against the skin that’d been exposed as your untucked shirt had ridden up. You shuddered against him, feeling goosebumps rise on your skin–either the cold air, or his touch. Probably both.

Hearing the clamoring of nearby voices, you reluctantly broke the kiss.

“I don’t have anything to give you,” you lamented breathlessly.

His blue eyes seemed to sparkle when he smiled. “I think we’re even.”

“You know,” you began, turning the book over to glance at the synopsis, “all I ever heard when this came out was that it was dirty. Are you trying to tell me something?”

“Books aren’t dirty. It’s embarrassing that Boston even bans them the way they do.”

“Have you read it?”

“I haven’t, but that’s not the point. They’d ban Shakespeare if he were publishing today.”

“I don’t disagree with you,” you said, suppressing an amused smile, “but I only asked because I thought we could read it together, if you don’t mind the company.”

His expression softened. “I’d love that.”

Smiling, you leaned in for another kiss when the door opened, and the two of you jumped away from each other like the other was on fire.

You relaxed when you saw Roe standing in the doorway. He gave you an almost exasperated look, but that was all. For the moment.

“Webster,” Gene said, giving him a nod of acknowledgement before shifting his attention to you. “Will you sort through those supplies Luz got earlier? I gotta check on Lipton.”

“Sure,” you said with a nod. “Thanks again, Web–David, the book’s great.”

He smiled. “Of course.”

You followed Gene out of the room, walking side-by-side down the hallway until you were a decent distance from Webster and out of earshot from anyone who might otherwise eavesdrop. When your best friend stopped in his tracks, you mirrored him, flattering a bit beneath the weight of his disapproving glare.

“Are you crazy?” Gene scolded.

“He gave me a book. It’s not–don’t look at me like that.”

“However wounded he gets, it’s gonna be a lot worse for you.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t know. This ain’t the time or place.”

“There might not be another time or place,” you argued.

He sighed, either conceding to your argument or not finding it worth wasting any more breath over. For how long you’d known him, he could be impossibly difficult to read. “Just be careful, alright?”

Gene brought you to the recently delivered boxes of medical supplies, desperately needed weeks ago. Better late than never. You rifled through bandages and morphine, hands shaking a bit as you tried not to think about who might have still been there if it’d come in sooner. But Webster came back, even though you’d long been convinced you’d never see him again. At least if the worst happened, you wouldn’t have to wonder if your feelings for him were reciprocated.

The worst. You weren’t sure what, out of everything you’d seen the past few months, could have been considered the worst. Slow deaths, blown off limbs, or men whose bodies and psyche were trapped in that place between life and death. But you couldn’t let yourself spiral, not when so many people were relying on you. Hope seemed increasingly hard to find, and if indulging in whatever you had with David gave you the slightest bit more, you’d take it.

As if materializing from your thoughts of him, he walked into the room, silent concern etched in his face.

“There’s a patrol tonight,” he said. “We’re going across the river to bring back prisoners.”

“Who all’s going?” You figured if he was breaking the news to you, he’d be included. A sinking feeling dropped in your stomach when he answered, nevertheless.

“Most of 2nd platoon, except Liebgott and Malarkey.”

“It’s always 2nd platoon,” you muttered. “So you’re going as translator, then?”

He nodded. “The Krauts won’t expect us, at least that’s what they say.”

“I’m still gonna worry,” you said softly. “Just got you back.”

“Comes with the territory, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, it does.”

“I’ll find you as soon as we’re done,” he promised.

“Can I give you a kiss for good luck?”

“I’ll never say no to that.”

You pressed your lips to his, craving the tenderness he’d given you earlier like it was missing from your veins. You hadn’t realized how much you needed it, soft words and tender touches that made you finally feel something other than numb and tired. Desire that would long remain unfulfilled had settled deep inside of you, and you desperately wished you and David were somewhere, anywhere else.

Holding onto him just as tightly as you were trying to keep your restraint, you went as far as he led you, open-mouthed kisses burning into your skin until a moan escaped your lips, nearly giving the two of you away.

“You’re the most incredible person I’ve ever met,” he said, giving you a quick kiss that felt achingly insufficient for what you wanted from him.

“Wait ‘til you get me in bed,” you joked.

He laughed, caressing your cheek. “I mean it. I’ve never known anyone like you.”

“Shame we had to meet this way, huh? But then we probably would’ve gone the rest of our lives not knowing each other at all.”

“That’d be a real tragedy.”

“You’re telling me.”

Far too soon for your liking, though you weren’t sure how much time had passed in all honesty, he made his leave as the sound of approaching footsteps grew louder and darkness began to fall.

You tried to keep your mind off of the patrol, assure yourself that you were worrying for nothing. Sitting on an empty couch, you finally got a better look at the book he presented you with, not having a chance to before. He’d written on the blank cover page, filled the whole thing and then some.

Beneath your name, carefully written in pencil, an inscription, detailing the longing he felt from your absence, his heart growing fonder of you with each passing day but struggling to assuage the loneliness and doubt that began to coil around it. The sound of your voice, your laughter, so vivid in his dreams that he’d wake up looking for you. He’d taken your friendship for granted, he claimed, but though the two of you met during less than ideal circumstances, getting shot was worth meeting you. Your vision began to blur with tears by the time you reached the end of his confession, ‘I missed you before we ever met, and now that we have, I miss you even more.’

You slammed the book shut, choking out a sob. It wasn’t fair. You’d just gotten him back, and in the blink of an eye you could lose him again, possibly for good. In that moment you understood better than ever why medics were supposed to keep their emotional distance, but the pain in your chest, the salty tears that stung your eyes were all worth it for the brief comfort you had found with him. You’d been so lonely otherwise, constantly surrounded by people but still feeling something missing until he returned.

Your name sounded muffled to the ringing in your ears, until Gene sat next to you, putting his arm around your shoulder.

“Don’t get too stuck in your head. Won’t be able to help no one like that,” Gene said, holding you in the hug. “Don’t think about it.”

“How can I not? It’s all around us–I can’t–”

“Yes, you can. You wouldn’t be here if you couldn’t.”

You let out a shaky breath. “I don’t feel like it sometimes. I feel like I’m just–”

“Just one person and it’s never gonna be enough.”

Something had happened in Bastogne, the last time he went back to the town. He never spoke of it, even when you offered to be an unjudging ear to spill his thoughts to, but you could tell it affected him deeply, even still. Knowing he was speaking from experience was an almost painful comfort.

“Why don’t you get some rest? I’ll be up,” he said.

“You sure?”

He nodded.

When he left, you set the book aside, silently promising yourself that you wouldn’t read it without Webster. If he didn’t return, it’d stay with you, unread until you met your own demise. An unnecessarily dramatic gesture to only yourself, you hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

The following hours found you in and out of sleep, almost unable to discern your erratic dreams with troubling reality. Footsteps and voices muddled together into unintelligible ramblings that you couldn’t help interpret as the worst in your near fugue state. Your worry was laced with frustration at letting the situation cause you so much distress. You were a medic, after all. You were supposed to be prepared for this.

Still, you couldn’t help but feel a momentary wave of relief crash over you when Webster walked into the room.

“Thank god,” you whispered, throwing your arms around him and kissing his cheek.

His embrace was stiff, awkward, and the far away expression on his face gave you pause.

“David, what happened?”

“Jackson’s dead. It was his own grenade. He didn’t wait long enough. It just…”

“Oh my god.”

“He didn’t die right away.”

“Why didn’t someone get me? Maybe I could’ve–”

“By the time Sergeant Martin got Doc Roe it was already too late. There was nothing Doc could do—nothing you could’ve done,” he said quietly, before adding, “I’m glad you didn’t see it.”

“I’ve seen worse by now.”

“Why add onto it?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too. That I didn’t write to you, that I didn’t tell you sooner how I felt about you, but it’s no use dwelling on all of that now,” he said. “It can’t change anything, and no matter how sorry we are, it won’t bring Jackson back, or anyone else, for that matter.”

It was settling in, that same bitterness that’d made its home in the bones of your comrades. A taste in your mouth that could be mistaken for blood by anyone else, but you knew it all too well. Your heart ached at seeing it finally get to Webster, too.

“Do you wanna just sit for a while?” you asked.

He nodded. The two of you settled onto the couch, his head in your lap as you ran your fingers through his hair, gently tracing the soft lines that ran across his forehead, betraying that despite his closed eyes, his mind was still racing.

“This isn’t exactly how I wanted to spend the rest of the night with you,” he mumbled after a while, his eyes fluttering open.

“David, it’s alright,” you said, your thumb brushing back and forth across his cheekbone, trying to pull his mind out of the depths you knew too well. “I’m glad just to do this. I’m kind of crazy about you.”

“Kind of?”

“Yeah, just a little bit.”

“What would I have to do to make you a fully-fledged lunatic?”

“Horrible, indecent things that would get me sent home in shame.”

He laughed. “But crazy about me?”

“Absolutely wild.”

He took your hand from his face, kissing your palm before holding it in his.

You weren’t sure when you’d fallen asleep, but you awoke the next morning with an unforgiving crick in your neck, and the thought of the recently delivered aspirin tempted you for a split second before you realized you’d woken up by yourself.

He probably slipped out at some point, returning to his bunk so neither of you would get into any trouble. It didn’t stop you from asking around for him until you finally caught him alone.

“Hey, where’d you run off to?” you asked.

“Sink wants another patrol,” Webster told you, watching cautiously as your hands balled into fists at your side.

You fought back tears of frustration. “Then I wanna go too. I’ll make sure nothing like what happened last night happens again. Where’s Captain Winters? I’ll–”

“Winters is going to tell him a phony story about how we went back but couldn’t get any more prisoners.”

You paused, your brain taking a moment to process the information before you let out a weak laugh in disbelief, the tears that’d welled up in your eyes rolling down your cheeks regardless. Maybe you were delirious. Or sleep deprived. And your neck still hurt. “That man is a fucking saint.”

Webster smiled, putting his arm around you and pressing a kiss to your temple. “He is. Especially since that leaves me free the rest of the night.”

“You know, this handsome guy just gave me a brand new copy of The Postman Always Rings Twice.”

“Sounds like he has good taste.”

You smiled. “Yeah, I’d say so.”

#david webster x reader #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers #band of brothers fanfic #david webster #band of brothers imagine #anyway read the postman always rings twice! or watch the movie the one with lana turner not the other one #do you ever think about how a book with a dysfunctional and murderous semi sadomasochistic relationship was given out by the us government #webster and the reader sure will!

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the-catboy-minyan · 1 month

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i'm trying to comprehend your points about the terf-focused jkr discussion instead of holocaust denial focus, you are getting at something here i want to really understand from your perspective. i think people often come at these events through the lens of their own experience - for me i would fall under the mentally ill group that nazis identified as unworthy of existence but i don't see the holocaust at large as a primarily mental health community focused event, it was obviously an ethnic cleansing. i never put myself into the place of people targeted for ethnicity, religion, etc. by the nazis. i guess i'm asking - are you asking people to remember the totality of the holocaust and its staggering impact on Jewish people, not just take a detail and magnify it to focus on groups that have gained visibility in recent decades? if i misunderstand pls let me know! i want to understand these topics better, but if you don't want to explicate it that's all good too!

hi anon, thanks for the ask. sorry that my post wasn't clear, my thought process is a bit weird at times and i sometimes accidentally try to make multiple points at once, or forget my point halfway.

my problem wasn't that people are focusing on queer aspects of the holocaust too much, I'm queer myself. my problem was that people (in general) looked at JKR's behaviour and acted like:

of course she would stoop this low to engage in holocaust denial, she's a terf! only "evil" people can do such a vile thing as holocaust denial.

saying Nazis didn't burn books about gender affirming care is the worst act of holocaust denial you can engage in ever!!!

it being holocaust denial is a major part of why it's horrible.

now for why I think that:

pretending like only objectively horrible people like JKR are the only people who engage in holocaust denial is ignoring the rise of holocaust denialism we've seen from both the right and the left in recent months. there are people who have actively denied parts of the holocaust "calling out" jkr on it, while also insisting they're not denying parts of the holocaust because "they're right and the history books are wrong actually".

people are tweeting "hitler was right" or "hitler should have finished the job" every fucking day, recently AI translated videos on one of his speeches got circulated on social media positively. people are denying the death count is really 6 million Jews, or that the holocaust happened at all. JKR is denying specific books were burned, not that book burnings never happened or that they "weren't that bad", it's disgusting but it's nowhere near as bad as people make it out to be.

she's not denying those book burnings because she thinks there's no way Nazis would have stooped this low or whatever, she's denying them because she can't fathom trans people existing in history (the horror!). is it holocaust denial? well it's an important event that happened as part of the holocaust and she's denying it, so technically yes, but she's denying it because she's transphobic, not because she's actually denying a holocaust event. like, the reason people are mad isn't because they were burned during the holocaust and she saying they weren't, it's because it was books about trans research and she's saying they never existed.

I hope this makes more sense, thanks again for the ask, I highly respect people going out of their way to listen to other people's perspectives (this is something I also try to do myself). please feel free to engage with and discuss this post and my take, this is my personal opinion, not an objective fact, and others may see this differently.

#asks #antisemitism #holocaust denial #jkr #fuck jkr

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darubyprincx · 1 year

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Murdering terfs in progress

Pix at the end of E1 (his) became a copper statue. He was entirely conscious and he waited and waited watching as the Rapture happened and he was not saved. He gets saved sometime before E2 by recap crew

He'd seen a lot.

If he could have cried, he would have, but instead he just stood there: slowly tarnishing, occasionally getting struck by the summer storms that only showed up every once in a couple hundred years, biding his time and his patience.

It was lonely, that was for sure. He saw the sun rise every day and felt it set behind his back. After a while, the days all blended together. Generations of birds made nests inside of the crown on his head. The dunes shifted their weight more times than he could ever count.

Eventually he was covered entirely except for a tiny sliver of his crown, the birds left, and he was stuck there in total dark.

Pix considered the idea of possibly breaking down, for even death would be kinder than this, but just as he summoned the will to make one final stand and be buried alive rather than half dead he heard voices slowly approaching.

"This goddamned summer sun," complained a voice. "I'm sweating buckets. And I didn't even think I had any sweat left to sweat! I was wrong!"

Pixl listened as intently as he could.

"Trust me, it's no different for me," said a second voice. They sighed. "At least we'll be out of here s- wait."

"I'm not waiting," said the first voice. "I'm getting the hell out of here as soon as I can."

"There's something in the sand," said the second voice. Pix felt the sand shift above him and a boot kick some of it off.

"Yeah, an ancient artifact or whatever," said the first voice, disinterested. "Come on, Ly."

"No, the sun's going down," said the second voice (Ly?). "I'm staying. And I'm the one with the map, so you can go off without me but it won't-"

"Okay, fine," grumbled the first voice. A bag rustled ahead. "Let's get the stupid shiny thing out of the stupid sand and then we'll leave."

Pix felt the strands of a brush on the back of his head, then eventually arms, and as it went over his eyes, he was able to see the sunset for the first time in the gods know how long.

"It's a person," said the person with the secondp voice. Their hair was blond. "And it's really, really well preserved for some reason."

"It's probably the sand," said the person with the first voice, coming around and crouching. They looked exactly with a zombie- green skin, face entirely wrapped up in cloth except for the eyes- but moved like a regular human did, albeit a lot slower.

The second person looked Pix in the eyes. "He looks really sad," they said, going on with the brush. "Maybe it's because he's been out here alone for so long."

"It's just a stupid statue," said the zombie.

"Shut up, Sloy," said the second person, brushing Pixl's nose. It tickled, the most he'd ever physically felt in ages, and he sneezed, sand going into his mouth.

The blonde took a step back, and the zombie yelped and ran backwards a few steps, falling flat onto his undead behind. "We need to get out of here," he shouted, pointing at Pix. "This place is haunted. The statues are fucking talking, man."

The blonde, meanwhile, stepped closer again. "How long have you been out here?" they asked cautiously.

Pix spat sand out of his mouth. "Five hundred years, I think?" he said, throat dry and voice hoarse. He tried to wiggled his fingers and found, with surprise, that they moved. "It's been a while."

"The cursed statue is fucking British," said the zombie. "Just our luck."

"I'm not cursed," protested Pix. He paused. "Okay, well, I was, but you guys just broke it."

"Are you going to haunt us for the rest of eternity?" asked the zombie.

"I mean, a way out of this dune would be nice."

#amys' tag #answered #mcyt #empires smp #writing #i had Fun with this one #pixlriffs #sloyxp #lyarrah #hermitcraft recap #none of the rest of your prompts really vibed with us sorry </3 angst isnt really our wheelhouse

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up-in-flames-writing · 7 months

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Always makes me laugh when transphobes & TERFs & GCs act like innocent little lambs who are being ABUSED & THREATENED by the big bad TRANSES. But when I say I've been personally abused by them, sent death & rape threats, insulted & called slurs, & (this site's classic) sent suicide bait, suddenly I'm lying & it didn't happen, & I'm a violent testosterone-filled female who WISHES she had been raped (this last one was sent to me today & hoo boy, that's a new one!)

& when they ask for receipts? Yeah, sure! I definitely take screenshots of every. Single. Vile thing I've been sent by transphobes trying to get a rise out of me, but do please ignore one of your mutuals calling me a delusional girl who will eventually grow out of 'thinking she is transmasc', right below your own comment. That one doesn't count!

Ah, TERF innocence.

(This is why I go on twitter like once every few weeks)

#booker speaks #vent post #transgender #transandrophobia #rape mention #transphobia #can ya tell im tired?#& it all started with some idiot going 'we xant ID out of rapability!'#for fucks sake #transmascs have one of the highest rates of experiencing rape out of marginalised groups #& compared to some groups were a tiny community #that one just pissed me right off

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ltleflrt · 10 months

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can i ask - what are you thoughts on the current anti-shipping phenomenon in fandom? I've recently gotten into SPN fandom and fallen in love with your fics, but the state of the fandom puzzles me a bit.

Anti-shipping is not a SPN fandom phenomenon, and maybe it seems to be a bigger deal to you because it's a bigger fandom? Wincest and Destiel shippers have been at war since episode 04x01 aired lol...we even have derogatory names for each other: Wincels and Hellers.

(Jokes on the Wincels, because Heller is a fucking awesome name.)

(Wincestiel shippers are fandom unicorns, and they deserve love and respect.)

I've only been involved in fandom since 2011, so most of what I know about anti-shippers comes from piles and piles of posts talking about fandom history, but the gist of it is that this is not current, it is ongoing since the dawn of fandoms, we just have names for it now. Think about Spirk back in the 60s...there were lots of rabid fangirls who saw nothing romantic between them too. We just don't hear as much about them, because they lost their fandom war lol

It's just really loud right now with the rise of conservatism, fascism, and terfs. And social media amplifies all of the above.

Anyway, my thoughts on anti-shippers is that they need to grow up and mind their own business. I am a pro-shipper, which means I believe that anyone has the right to love any ship, no matter how problematic, no matter how much it squicks me out. I believe everyone should be allowed to read whatever vile smut they want, because thought crimes are not real.

Unless a real person is being hurt, have fun.

Antis claim that problematic ships and kinks hurt people, but I think it's important to understand that there's a big difference between accidental and deliberate harm. And harm mitigation is highly important in a world with 7+ billion people and 7+ billion different lived experiences.

If an anti-shipper is hurt by a ship they don't like, they need to learn how to block and filter content so they don't see it, and on the opposite side of that, the vile shippers/kinksters need to tag their nonsense so that they're not accidentally burning someone's eyes out. Which most people ARE kind enough to do. They sit around in their little ficcing circles and cackle over the evil things they're putting their blorbos through, and they put up warning signs, but the antis come barging in to bug them anyway.

In my opinion, many antis are big fucking bullies and do a lot more harm than they claim to try and prevent, and they can all go fuck themselves with something hard and sandpapery.

So uh... yeah, that's how I feel about it 😁

(okay actually I'm not done, there's a lot of anti-shipping discourse about age gaps and what counts as incest that are just... really fucking stupid, and I honestly believe that shit started out because people were grasping for straws to justify why their ship is better than the ship they don't like. unfortunately, the youngins have been soaking up that moral purity language as Objective Truth because they're little sponges. i hope they outgrow that bullshit eventually. i will forgive and forget if they leave behind their purity police badges.)

#ltleramblings #reply #anonymous #purity police #anti shipping #pro shipping #yes i do enjoy the 'problematic' stuff myself #i don't like wincest at all #but i respect people's rights to ship it #i mean i ship cas/jimmy as twins soooooo #pot kettle blah blah blah #someday i want to write a darkfic that alienates my reader base #oh the darkfics that live in my head #i just can't seem to get them out of my imagination and into a fic #the two times i've tried they turned oddly romantic #HOW DOES THAT HAPPEN?#THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE DIRTYBADWRONG #sigh oh well

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malt-rants-and-stuff · 1 year

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SHOVES YOU INTO MY BRAIN ILLNESS

(yes yes I know I made that poll about making a new pinned forever ago but, like, I was lazy and didn't want to do it okay? so this is here now)

Anyways, hello poor traveler! Welcome to the accumulation of all my weird brain things :D

My name is Malt/Malty and I go by mostly any pronouns outside of she/her, this blog is very gay and trans so terfs fuck off!!

This blog doesn't have any sort of main theme, I just reblog and post whatever the hell I want and be insane about very specific things! These may include:

Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint (orv)

Rise Of The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (rottmnt/tmnt)

Toilet Bound Hanako-kun (tbhk/jshk)

Alien Stage (alnst)

DC [comics not movies] (dc)

Shirahama Kyouji (deeply unwell over him sorry)

Hirano To Kagiura/Sasaki To Miyano (htk/stm)

Hanzawa To Tashiro (if you know you know)

Lout/Trash of The Count's Family (lcf/tcf)

Generation Loss (genloss)

Chainsaw Man (csm)

Dungeon Meshi (dunmeshi)

The Quackity SMP (QSMP)

Hermitcraft (hc)

The Life Series

The Case Study of Vanitas (tcsov/vnc)

And so many more I literally cannot bother to list right now

Please be weary of stray spike traps and anvils falling comically onto your dash!!!

Also‼PLEASE BE AWARE I POST SPOILERS FOR ALL FANDOMS LISTED‼

any novels, shows, games or manga I've mentioned already are ones I've either finished or keep up to date with so please be careful when looking for certain things around here!!

uh main boundaries are just be respectful, I'm a black poc so if you try any racist shit here I'm publicly executing you, I'm fine with tags and asks so come scream about whatever you want in my ask box or tag me in tons of stuff i don't mind!! people with empty blogs will be blocked and reported as bots sorry yall :)

Other than that, welcome to my blog! Please watch the gluetrap on your way in ;)

#malt pinned #new pinned after an eternity everyone clap!!#malt rants

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just-antithings · 9 months

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https://www.tumblr.com/just-antithings/724299265801961472/behold-terfs-having-nuclear-waster-tier?source=share

I have. So many comments to make on this person's points.

Not everyone who write fanfiction is writing it as 'practice' for 'real writing'. Most do it because they enjoy writing it?? And of course they're going to improve! The only way to improve in writing is really to just...write?? You'll improve faster by incorporating other things like editing outlines etc but like what is their point??

'All fanfiction writers write the same' proceeds to give the most generic two word examples that illustrate nothing. I'm sorry but 'she murmured' is not indicative of a generic style it's just two words

I like how they basically say you shouldn't have fun writing/reading content??

If I wanna pull out a card this person has likely used, I'd say they're 'terminally online'. You think FANFICTION is the reason media literacy has gone down and there is a rise in generic quick content? Grow UP omg. Fanfic is more prevalent than it once was, but it's still a rather niche interest. They only think it's the reason bc they spend so much time in fandom oriented online spaces. The fault (imo) lies with major publishers/production companies/etc that are valuing that content and flood the market with it bc of profit reasons. Idk just my opinion.

Blatantly ignoring jkrs transphobia/other issues and glossing it over as like 'oh she just controls her own content!!1'. Stupidest take ive heard.

Tldr ig not liking fanfiction is fine just don't make up some moral crusade against it that boils down to 'I don't think fanfic counts as REAL writing so anyone who enjoys it is an idiot and a sheep and I will blame things on them'

My dudes (Gender neutral) I am so tired

#mod erin #ask #just asshole things #posted without comment #you’re right and you should say it

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omegawizardposting · 1 year

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It's not a bad thing to acknowledge that, yes, being a woman, or perceived as one, almost always comes with baggage. Systemic oppression, outdated societal norms, violence and ignorance; most people perceived as women will experience these things throughout their lives.

Defining womanhood by suffering is so utterly defeatist though. It also, in a fair and just world, will no longer serve as a workable definition of womanhood. When we, as a species, obtain true equality, stamp out sexism, rise above, you will no longer be able to define womanhood by oppression.

What will you do then? What will a woman be then? Someone who can give birth? Infertile women exist. Someone with specific chromosomes? Intersex women exist. Someone with a vagina? Again, intersex women exist.

The truth is that every gender, and every sex, is diverse. That's what makes defining them difficult. Yes, generally, women have certain chromosomes and reproductive parts, and men have chromosomes and reproductive parts that are different to women's, but that isn't always the case. There are intersex people with penises who are women, intersex people with vaginas who are men, and, of course, there are trans people, but TERFs don't count us.

No matter how you define "woman", there will always be exceptions. Womanhood isn't one thing. It's a vast array of experiences and states of being. It's colorful and multifaceted.

That's what makes each gender beautiful: that they are layered, varied, and rich.

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olderthannetfic · 2 years

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this is gonna sound really nit-picky, bur here goes. i don't know when or why people started using "mlm" and "wlw" and such when describing people and fiction. we already have a perfectly good word that doesn't place any emphasis on gender or assigned sex: queer. it's also shorter to say aloud and doesn't sound nearly as ridiculous. maybe it started from folks not wanting to write out as many letters on a platform like twitter that counts characters, but there's nothing wrong with using words to explain things in more detail if needed, and "queer" does the job just fine. i thought this was just a very online fandom-type thing until i saw it starting to seep into outside spaces. no. just no.

The rise of wlw and mlm is a Radfem and TERF thing.

The people who push these terms also push "queer is a slur".

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semper-legens · 2 years

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109. Her Majesty’s Royal Coven, by Juno Dawson

Owned?: No, library Page count: 450 My summary: High in the upper echelons of government is a secret coven of witches. Her Majesty’s Royal Coven works from the shadows to fight magical threats to the land. When Helena, head of HMRC, hears a prophecy about an ancient evil rising, she’s naturally concerned; especially when the coven catches the boy who will bring this evil forth, Theo. But her comrades are turning on her. Her old friends Leonie, Elle, and Niamh are taking Theo’s side...and she will not let this country fall. My rating: 4/5 My commentary:

Ah, Juno Dawson. She’s one of my favourite writers, I’ve really enjoyed the books in her previous teen work that I’ve read, so naturally I wanted to check out her first novel for adults. In a nutshell, I really enjoyed it, though the plot and writing were not without their flaws - it was an enjoyable urban fantasy book overall though, and Dawson’s writing is filled with the usual sparkle and flair. I liked a lot of the worldbuilding, and hell, it’s a book about witches. I’m always down for that!

(Spoilers under the cut.)

So yeah, Helena is the worst. One thing about Dawson, she writes a really credible TERF nightmare. Helena is exactly the white, straight, middle-class privileged asshole who thinks she’s at the bottom of the totem pole just because she’s also a woman that exists a thousand times over in the real world. One think I really liked about the writing on her was that her POV chapters still help you understand her thought process and why she makes the choices she makes, without ever inviting you to think the way she does. The other POV characters are a delight. I like the spread of women we have here - vain housewife and mother Elle, crafty loner Niamh, and urban lesbian Leonie, all of whom side with and protect Theo against Helena and the HMRC, slowly breaking away from their remaining ties with the coven to stand against their old friend. Their friendship is complex and compelling, and they’re all very distinct characters.

Speaking of Theo, if you didn’t see the revelation that she’s trans coming, you’ve probably never read a Dawson book before. I liked Theo a lot, she’s quiet and anxious but blossoms into a powerful young witch with time. The issue, really, is that it’s very Baby’s First Trans - Theo is more a side character than anything else, and she’s not a POV character. Which is fine, this isn’t really a criticism or anything, but if you’re expecting this book to contain a trans story, it doesn’t really. More of a trans side-story.

The world of HMRC is interesting enough - witchcraft is real, but is a well-guarded secret. Witches are split into different strengths, with only a few being able to cast multiple forms of magic. Most magical understanding comes from HMRC itself, so is inherently biased towards white witches and traditions - something Leonie, who is black, is actively trying to combat. I like that Dawson introduces these biases in the system so that she can point them out and play with them a bit, mirroring the experience of any traditions from people of colour which are seen as lesser by English society. There was a previous war against fascistic mages, which we never really ‘see’ but hear a lot about, giving this impression of a wider world. Also, I loved how northern this book is. It basically takes place in my neck of the woods, including the bloodline of the Pendle witches. Hell yeah!

Next up, well, there’s only one way to introduce this...welcome to Night Vale.

#Her Majesty's Royal Coven #Juno Dawson #bookblr #book blog #book blogger #4

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