#you guys are jut always trying to find the tea or stir the pot when there's nothing there

[chirpsythismorning]

There’s something sort of patronizing and damn near infantilizing about the way stans (specifically stan twitter), will take something that isn’t that serious, or even is very serious, and will twist it as much as they possibly can, for pity and engagements.

I remember when that lie detector interview with Millie came out last year, and toxic stans of hers made it their mission to accuse the guy in the video of disrespecting Millie, when really it was all a bit? They were rushing to make posts saying, “this is so messed up! she doesn’t deserve this!!” And it’s like?? Are u guys serious rn??

And then there’s all that fucked up shit that happened with that grown ass man who groomed Millie and how a lot of hardcore stans of hers were making plot-twist edits with that horrid ig live he did??? All of that shit blew up and went beyond what it ever should have, and part of it was because a lot of those same toxic fans were out there low-key promoting a very private matter, for clicks???

Right after this happened, she deleted all of her old instagram posts (I think she’s returned recently), and still doesn't allow herself to be tagged in anything (again mostly hardcore fans there), and it’s pretty obvious to me that it's because at this point, not only does she have to watch out for people that hate her for no fucking reason and who actually mean to harm her, but she ALSO has to avoid so-called fans constantly acknowledging all the negativity surrounding her, for attention, with the guise that they support her.

Because like, do we seriously think she deleted all those sentimental posts from her past, to spite people that hate her?? No she did it to punish the so-called fans. That's the place where they could connect with her and she made a boundary that she couldn't let them into her life like that anymore.

Fans took something very serious, like as serious as it can fucking get, and were making it about stan wars. Anyone and everyone who makes one joke or one comment needs to be called out and brought down. Like it's just so obsessive and unhealthy and I get that a lot of these kinds of fans are children, and so there isn't much anyone can do. But still, it's ridiculous.

I support the notion that we should be calling out harmful behavior/language. But it eventually gets to point where it's like, what even is the point? Is there a point anymore? Or are we just speaking to speak, when no ones even saying anything? Are we seeing one negative comment and blowing it out of proportion as if everyone is saying that, to gain pity? Because it starts to get ridiculous.

In reality, people are gonna say what they want. Everyone with access to internet has the affordance of posting shit anonymously without any repercussions. That’s unavoidable. And these same people aren’t going to just be enlightened by someone calling them out. More often than not people like this want to upset others in the first place. They want a reaction. And so by constantly acknowledging their existence, and fixating on it, we're giving it to them.

And now ever since Noah has come out, we're sort of seeing something similar happening with him.

While he is getting unwavering support from a lot of people in his comments, there's undeniably a disgusting amount of homophobia being thrown at him as well.

And then somewhere in the middle of that spectrum, we have people making jokes, INCLUDING Noah.

And yet, the tag has suddenly went from unwavering support (as it should), to obsessing over any and every post/comment/joke that can be interpreted as somewhere between sarcastic, uninformed, mildly offensive and downright offensive, and we're acting like it's the end of the world.

There's no denying that all of this is overwhelming. It's a lot. And I don't blame people for speaking up when they truly feel that it's necessary. It's only natural to get defensive when you think someone is being wronged/harmed and you want to do what's right.

But again, to what point is it truly necessary to keep bringing attention to every single thing we come across that falls somewhere on that spectrum near negative?

Right now this space is filled with the negatives, even if it's coming from a good place. Do we think that Noah or Millie or any of the cast want to have to be confronted with negativity from all directions, even from the people that claim to just be fans trying to do the right thing?

It gets exhausting.

And now we're just seeing this stan twitter behavior create one big mess of delusion, with toxic Millie stans calling Noah a white sexist misogynist because he liked a TikTok referencing his coming out and the homophobic Millie meme?...

Is Noah only allowed to be open to unwavering support right now? Can he not make light of the situation, or are we just imagining that he's sitting there victimizing himself because of any and all of the negatives being thrown at him, that are never going to go away, no matter what he says or does? Because I honestly think that's the opposite of what he's doing or would even want to be doing.

And same with Millie, I don't think she sees anything and everything happening to her, and everything anyone is saying, and allows it to bother her anymore. Because how could she?? That kind of shit drains a person of their sanity.

Noah is out here not only liking TikToks joking about his coming out, he's still liking byler edits, still commenting on fans posts with a lighthearted positive attitude. He even mentioned Will in his post, so obviously he doesn't mind people making some comparisons between him and his character.

And yet here we are dwelling on everything negative we can get our hands on.

It's important to realize that the cast has seen the worst of the worst. And you can see that it's affected them. You can see they went from fairly public public figures to almost entirely private public figures, only interacting with fans when they have to, because they know a good portion of the trauma they experience comes from the fans themselves who just don't understand boundaries and common sense.

The most delusional aspect of all of this is that toxic stans are 100% convinced Millie and Noah hate each other... like they fully believe this lie they've told themself based on videos they've seen of them? Like they genuinely think they know her better than she knows herself I guess???

Now, I do want to say that I understand partly where these fans are coming from. Millie has went through absolute shit with this fandom. And it's mostly because she herself is known for saying stuff that causes people outrage. Whether it's a joke or a comment, that clearly just came off the top of her head, they'll flip it to something negative and use it as ammo to hate her. She doesn't deserve that. And I know a lot of her fans are coming from a protective place because they're so used to people hating Millie for no reason.

But even still, I don't think they realize they are a part of the problem themselves. And we are too whenever we allow ourselves to focus on the negatives, letting it practically consume us.

That sort of shit can make a person feel hopeless. 1 negative comment can outweigh 100 positive ones. And so imagine that by a scale of about a billion?

Again, I know a lot of fans mean well, but if you just take a moment to think about it, like really think about it, you'll realize that your energy would be much better directed elsewhere.

Instead of making dramatic intense posts that focus on all the negativity, BE THE POSITIVITY! Be someone that actually makes our community redeemable. Because again, we're no better than the worst of the worst if we're giving them all the attention, making the very people we're claiming to be supporting and defending, even more miserable.

And don't be surprised when s5 promo rolls around or any other event involves Millie and Noah interacting in a public forum, where they'll inevitably make jokes about all of this, arguably just as offensive as the ones we're getting worked up over right now

#stranger things #noah schnapp #millie bobby brown #tiktok #byler #i feel like this is controversial but it really shouldn't be #dude i remember when people were joking about mike looking at angelas boyfriend during the rink o mania scene #and milkvan stans on twitter were full serious #you’re shipping Mike with El’s abuser #who is shipping who? what?? like can we not just exist and talk about things without it being the most serious take on the planet?? #or during noah's live recently he kept getting questions asking if he was friends with millie/the other cast or if they hated each other #and it got to a point where he was like #what is this? millie is my friend i'm friends with all my castmates #you guys are jut always trying to find the tea or stir the pot when there's nothing there #it's all just drama for the sake of drama and it's no wonder they don't interact with fans anymore #don't even get me started on bylers who get really condescending at random comments millie makes in interviews #it's not that serious i promise you #not to mention a lot of this stuff happened when they were kids so kids saying whats on their mind and being ripped apart for it is so? #gross #remember your online experience is whatever you want it to be #set boundaries with yourself if you have to #lord knows the cast is

[excerptsfromunfinishednovels]

Excerpts From Unfinished Novels #21: Marmalade

Genre: fantasy/magical realism

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 2,395

Summary: Marmalade production is on the decline and oranges are becoming more expensive. Beatrice and Ethel have been eating marmalade since they were children, and use it as their sole method of storing and consuming life energy. They are determined to stock up on enough marmalade to see them to their death – it’s road trip time for these two witches!

Excerpt is from the first quarter of the novel

Beatrice stuck the knife into the near empty jar and swirled it around, attempting to scrape up the precious last bits of marmalade. When she had as much as possible she slowly pulled out the knife and carefully spread it over a piece of toast. She then took up a spoon and repeated her previous action with the jar, scraping out every bit of marmalade she could before spreading it over a second slice of toast. She cut the slices in half and put them on a plate which she then placed on a tray where a tea pot, two cups and a jar of milk were already sat. She pressed her finger to the small ink symbol on the corner of the tray, whispered a few words and then shuffled out to the parlour, the tray floating obediently behind her.

“That’s the last of the marmalade,” she sighed as she directed the tray onto the coffee table.

“I checked the pantry – we’re all out of oranges as well,” Ethyl sighed, reaching out towards the tea pot.

Beatrice immediately smacked her hand away. “How many centuries have I been telling you to leave it to brew in peace? It tastes funny whenever you stir it.”

“I like how it tastes,” Ethyl replied, her bottom jaw jutting forward. “Besides, what does it matter now? We haven’t had a customer in years, and if I’m going to die soon I would like to die drinking tea the way I like it!”

She slammed her fist on the table as she spoke, and there was a beat before her chin was wobbling and her eyes were filling with tears.

“Oh there there dearie,” Beatrice cooed, immediately pulling her into a hug. “It’ll be okay.”

“No it won’t.”

“Yes, it will. It’s easy; we’ll just make two pots of tea and that way we each get to have it the way we like!”

“I’m not crying about the tea Beatrice, I’m crying about the death! I don’t want to die!”

“Well we both knew we were going to die someday. We’ve already lived over five hundred years.”

“Yes but we were supposed to live to be a thousand at least.”

Beatrice hummed in agreement and patted her shoulder. She glanced at the tea pot, sighed, rolled her eyes, and then took the lid off the pot and handed her wife a spoon. Ethyl blinked, before smiling and taking the spoon with a murmured, “thanks.”

“You know,” Beatrice said nonchalantly as she picked up a piece of toast. “We could always contact Matthias…”

“Absolutely not,” Ethyl said firmly, her stirring becoming more agitated. “I will have nothing to do with necromancy, nor will I give him the satisfaction of knowing that his chosen path has bested mine.”

“He’s your brother,” Beatrice cajoled.

“Exactly,” Ethyl said in a dark tone. “I will not contact him and that’s that.”

Beatrice sighed and tutted, but dropped the subject, and the two finished their tea and toast in silence. When they were done, Ethyl cleared the dishes away and said firmly, “Come on, we’re going to the greengrocers. If I’m going to die, I’m going to die with marmalade in my belly.”

*

“Excuse me young man, where are the oranges?” Beatrice asked the man behind the cash register, while Ethyl dug her way through basket upon basket of fruit, cursing like a sailor the entire time.

“Sorry ma’am, we’re all out, have been for nearly a year now,” the man told her with an apologetic half-shrug.

“What do you mean you’re all out? How can you be out of oranges?” Ethyl hissed, stalking towards the counter.

The man looked at her in clear confusion before he replied slowly, “Orange growth has been declining for the past five years; they’re practically worth their weight in gold now, it was all over the news two months ago. You’ll find it difficult to find oranges anywhere in the country let alone here in town.”

Ethyl bristled and opened her mouth, but before she could launch into her tirade, Beatrice had taken her by the shoulders and was pulling her out of the store as she said, “Thank you dearie, have a good day.”

“How can he not have oranges?!” Ethyl exploded as soon as they were out of the store.

“He told you why,” Beatrice said, rubbing her shoulders placatingly. “I’m afraid we’ll just have to go to the supermarket.”

Ethyl cursed and grumbled, but nodded and followed her wife to the supermarket across the road.

*

“I’m sorry ma’am, but they stopped making marmalade two years ago when the orange crisis hit. I don’t know where you’d be able to get some…have you tried Amazon?”

Ethyl groaned, pulling at her cheek as she rolled her eyes, while Beatrice patted her on the back and said, “Come on love, let’s go home. At least the blackberry bush is ready for harvesting.”

*

Ethyl stared down at the jar of blackberry jam sitting in front of her, her eyes narrowing.

“It won’t bite you know.”

“I know,” she snapped wearily. “Doesn’t mean I should trust it.”

She picked up her knife, hesitated, sighed defeatedly and scooped up some jam and spread it across her toast. She picked up the slice, eyed it balefully, sighed again, and took a bite. It was horrible. It was in no way tasty or just the perfect ratio of sweet to tarte. No siree. She took another bite, chewed slowly and washed it down with a mouthful of tea. It just wasn’t the same.

There was a knock at the door, and a young voice called out, “Hello? Are um, are Beatrice and Ethyl still living here?”

The two witches glanced at each other and then at the front door curiously, before simultaneously standing and walking over. The young woman in front of their house smiled at them hopefully when they opened the door; she looked weary and dirt-streaked, and oh-so-familiar with a large backpack on her back.

“Oh wow it’s you!” she exclaimed happily upon seeing them. “I can’t believe it…nan said you were witches, but if I’m being honest I didn’t really believe it…oh God, sorry I haven’t even introduced myself! Hi, I’m Edie,” she gushed, holding her hand out.

Beatrice and Ethyl exchanged a look before Beatrice beamed and pulled Edie into a hug, exclaiming, “Hello dearie, what brings you all the way to our little cottage?”

“Yes and how do you know who we are?” Ethyl added, crossing her arms.

“My nan, Sasha, told me about you,” Edie told them as she pulled away and started fiddling with the interface on her forearm. “She came to see you when she was my age to get a tattoo – you know it never faded, even on the day she died. Anyway, she told me all about it and the spells you put into it, and I just knew I had to have one as well. Here,” she said, pulling up the image of an old photograph of Beatrice and Ethyl with a young woman who looked remarkably similar to Edie standing in between them, proudly showing off the swallow tattoo on her shoulder.

“Oh of course, I remember her!” Ethyl exclaimed, her expression immediately softening. “Such a nice girl. What did she give us? Oh yes,” she said with a smirk. “That secret.”

“Which secret?”

Ethyl whispered in Beatrice’s ear. Beatrice flushed and giggled before saying, “Ooohhhh, that secret. Yes, I remember. So dearie, you’re looking to get a tattoo as well?”

Edie nodded and said, “Please, if it’s possible, I’d like to get the exact same one as my nan, spells and all.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem.”

“There’s just the question of payment,” Ethyl said firmly.

“Oh yeah, do you guys still take secrets and dreams and things in marmalade?”

“We do, but I’m afraid we don’t have any marmalade or oranges in stock…”

“Oh that’s all right, I brought some oranges.” Edie beamed as she hefted her bag off her back.

She unclipped the top, opened it up and pulled out a bag of oranges. Ethyl and Beatrice’s eyes widened and they gaped at the bag that Edie held out towards him. Ethyl took the bag reverently, and felt tears well up in her eyes as she stared down at the fruit inside.

“I never…wh-” she blinked the tears away, cleared her throat and choked out, “Where did you get these?”

“My family grows them; our yearly crop is absolutely tiny, and my parents are definitely going to kill me for taking these, but I know the tattoo will be worth it.”

Ethyl hugged the bag to her chest, her head bowed and said a soft, “Thank you.”

“We really appreciate this dearie,” Beatrice told Edie, squeezing her hand. “Now, would you like to give us a dream, a memory or a secret?”

“Hmm…I think I’d like to give you a dream if that’s okay?”

“That would be perfect. I was going to ask you if you’d like a shower and a lie down before we made the marmalade anyway.”

“Oh my God a shower would be amazing,” Edie said enthusiastically.

“Okay, let me get you set up with whatever you need for the shower, then we can make the marmalade and then you can have a sleep and feed your dreams into it.”

*

Once the proper enchantment had been cast to link her dreams to the marmalade, a sleepy, smiling Edie bid the two witches goodnight and staggered off to the spare bedroom. Beatrice cast a soundproof charm on the living room while Ethyl placed a record on the gramophone and wound it. Soft music filled the air, and wife and wife pulled each other close as they swayed softly, tears of joy streaming down their cheeks.

*

“What I don’t understand,” Edie said as she clutched the back of the chair she was pressed up against. “Is why you haven’t grown any oranges yourself.”

Beatrice finished the incantation for the spell of courage and then said, “It’s not for lack of trying dearie. The problem is that inking and enchanting the seed isn’t enough – the soil isn’t fertile enough here for it, and we can’t enchant that. Now hush, this last spell is tricky.”

Edie obediently shut her mouth with a smile and remained perfectly still as Beatrice resumed her chanting, she and Ethyl working harmoniously to complete the swallow. Time flew, and eventually Beatrice was silent and Ethyl was still as they looked down at their creation.

“It’s done,” Ethyl said, wiping it one last time and casting a healing enchantment over it.

Edie squealed and jumped up, craning her neck to try and see it. “Can I go have a look in the bathroom mirror?”

“Of course dearie.”

Edie rushed off, and Beatrice and Ethyl shared an amused look when they heard her call of, “Oh my God it’s perfect!!”

*

“Thank you so much,” Edie said, her eyes wide and sincere. “Seriously, this really means a lot to me.”

“It was our pleasure dearie.” Beatrice beamed, and pulled her into a tight hug.

Ethyl stepped up after and hugged her as she whispered, “Thank you for bringing us oranges. Good luck with all your travels.”

Edie squeezed her gently before she stepped back, picked up her backpack, secured it around her waist and shoulders, and with a final hug and a wave, set off back down the mountain path. Ethyl and Beatrice waved her off until she disappeared from view, and then headed back inside.

Ethyl stopped by the table, where Edie’s marmalade, complete with dreams, sat. She stared down at the jar, picked it up, and declared solemnly, “This will not be our final jar of marmalade.”

“Unless we get another surprise visitor like Edie, I’m afraid it will be,” Beatrice pointed out gently.

“No, no it won’t,” Ethyl replied firmly, her grip on the jar tightening. “Oranges are out there Beatrice, we know that for definite now. And if they won’t come to us,” she said, her voice growing feverish, “then we will go to them.”

“You mean…”

“We’re going on a road trip,” Ethyl declared.

“Excellent,” Beatrice said brightly. “I’ll start packing, you lay out a route.”

She tottered out of the room, and Ethyl rolled up her sleeve and pressed her thumb to a tattoo of a sleek purple cat taking a nap on her forearm.

“Orville.”

The cat slowly raised its head, blinked sleepily, and stretched before looking up at Ethyl with bright orange eyes. “Mmm, good morning Ethyl,” her familiar said. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I need you contact the other members of the coven,” Ethyl told zir. “Beatrice and I are going on a roadtrip and we need to know where we can find either oranges or jars of marmalade – preferably oranges. If any of them know where we can find any they need to contact us asap okay?”

“Okay, sure thing,” Orville replied, and started to slowly fade away.

“Wait!”

“Yes?” zie replied testily.

“Do not, under any circumstance, tell Ingrid about this. She’ll turn the whole thing into one big competition, and I do not have the patience to deal with that.”

“Okay, tell everyone except for Ingrid, got it.”

“And when you’re done…”

“…Yes?”

Ethyl sighed aggravatedly and said, “When you’re done please contact my brother and tell him that Beatrice and I will be visiting him sometime in the next month, so he needs to keep his undead minions out of the guest room until there, I don’t want them stinking it to high heaven.”

“Is that all?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Okay, got it.”

Zie faded from view. Ethyl pulled her thumb away and tottered off to the study to grab a world atlas and a pencil.

*

“Okay that’s everything,” Beatrice said, tightening the straps on the final saddlebag. “You ready to go?”

Ethyl grinned and pulled on her helmet and goggles in response, and Beatrice followed suit. They shared a quick kiss and then took their seats; Ethyl in the driving seat and Beatrice in the sidecar. Ethyl sent Beatrice and nod and thumbs up; Beatrice pressed her hand against a symbol inked onto the side of the bike and muttered an incantation. The bike immediately roared to life and launched itself into the air.

About two months ago I took part in one of @caffeinewitchcraft‘s caffeinne challenges and wrote a quick story about wives Beatrice and Ethyl who were witches that traded magical tattoos for secrets, memories and dreams. I really loved these two characters and so I decided to tell a little bit more of their story as an Unfinished Novel excerpt. If you’d like to read the first story I wrote about them you can do so here!

If you’ve enjoyed this week’s short story please vote and reblog to share with other readers, I really appreciate it! And if you have any questions or comments I’d love to hear from you! If you want to make sure you don’t miss out on the weekly teasers, bonus materials and short stories then follow this blog!

Slán!

C.x

#excerpts from unfinished novels #marmalade #writerscreed #my writing #short story #creative writing #humour #magical realism #witches #wlw #lgbtqia #magical tattoos #road trip #magic #writeblr #writers on tumblr