Boba-is-a-soup - Life Is Soup. I Am Spoon. Om Nom Nom Slurp Slurp.

There is a phenomenon happening on Tumblr right now which may be a product of the Twitter exodus or maybe its just modern fandom mentality vehemently rejecting the old, but you guys have GOT to stop being so damn MEAN about fandom.

There are posts circulating on Tumblr right now hating on so many aspects of fandom. Yeah we all know the incorrect quotes format can be cringe and most of the time its the same quotes used for every fandom ever reducing the characters to stereotypes. Yes we know most fandoms scramble to ship the two basic white guys over all the other characters. Yes we know your blorbo probably Does Not Fucking Say That. Yes we know A/B/O is weird AF (especially now its breached containment and found its way into mainstream hetero erotica). Yes we know SuperWhoLock was ridiculous and attempts to make modern shows into a new SuperWhoLock have got old fast.

But do you have to constantly drag these things all the time? Why is it suddenly cool and popular to ridicule and criticise and hate on peoples fun?

Let people be cringe

Let people play in the fandom sandbox

Let people have their fun

Not everything has to be an intellectual critique and it doesn't make you a better person to constantly shit on fandom ON THE FANDOM WEBSITE

Fandoms can be problematic, toxic, and infuriating at times. But all the negativity isn't making things better. Yeah okay some aspects of fandom can be annoying, but must we have so many call out posts go viral on here specifically for hating on parts of fandom culture? Yet people wonder why fandom creators are quitting and there isnt as much art and interaction on here as there used to be.

If you see another negative post shitting on aspects of fandom cross your dash, maybe think before you reblog it. Maybe ask yourself if that post may be hurtful to a mutual? Perhaps youve got a mutual who writers A/B/O or CharacterxReader fanfiction who doesnt wanna see your reblog of the callout post stating reader×character fanfic is gross, or perhaps your mutual creates fun text posts applying quotes to their fave characters and youve just reblogged a 90k+ note post calling them cringy and overdone.

Just THINK please. Its not necessary. We've got to be KINDER to each other. Please don't let this place become like Twitter. Twitter was a toxic cesspool where no one had anything worthwhile to add to the discussion, no one created, everyone was just screaming angry rants into the void. Dont let tumblr become like that, because it will be the death of this place. And where will you go to find fanart and gifsets of your blorbos then?

… Dragon boy with two dicks and a pussy.

(reblogging to try and motivate myself to write something new.)

delusional - il dottore

This spawned from the dusty writing desk in the far corner of my brain. Be warned. Inspired by this playlist :  “ pov. escaping dottore’s lab; a yandere/obsessive playlist”

Mentions of: Il Dottore (and clones), implied imprisonment, escape, allusion to nonconsensual human experimentation, meat lockers, general uncomfortable vibe, use of pet name ‘doll’, (not intentional but could be perceived) yandere undertones

Additional note(s): Lazy formatting. Gotta get used to uploading on this hellsite again. Also I have no real reason for this title, just thought it was a good pun because see, the Fatui manufacture these fake visions which are called delusions, and the definition of delusion is ‘a state of being misled’, which this protagonist is. See, see it’s funny, right? Right? (: and yes, this was purposefully written in vague first tense, because I thought it fit the flow better. Not beta read this was a youtube comment

-

’…Why were they doing this again?’

Their delicate feet burned as they ran barefoot through the cold labyrinth of Zapolyarny Palace. ‘They’d only be caught once more.’ With each twist and turn of the halls, things began to look more and more the same, dizzying to their already swaying mind. Despite this, their steps never faltered, nimbly dashing down a steep flight of stairs. All their mind knew was fear– fear of being caught, of what they risked returning to, and of what dangers might lurk beyond the familiar ones they currently denounced.

They slunk past heavy doors set ajar before realising; things were unnaturally still around them. 'Where were the soldiers? Was no one coming for them? Was this finally it?’ A deep chuckle echoed through the chamber. Now standing in the very center of the room, they stiffened and glanced frantically around. Upon catching a hint of movement behind a pillar, they took off again, chest slowly growing heavy from the despair trickling in. That voice. They hated how it had such a hold over them. The particular timber of it was infused in their memory, woven through their shaking bones.

Now nearly at the other end of the room, another mocking laugh came from a pillar just to their right. A raspy, shrill squeak forced itself from their lungs, and on instinct they lunged toward a large vase on display. Through sheer panic alone they managed to shove it towards that same pillar, before quickly darting towards the set of doors. Wrenching them apart, they took only a brief moment to glance back, and their eyes met his. They shrieked and shoved the doors closed, trapping him in with the bar. The doctor let out a growl, escalating to an enraged yell. One body pushing against the doors then became two, as another doctor mirrored the actions of the first. Both clones were trapped in that room, but more were sure to appear, so they set their sights on heading to lower and lower floors, certain they were expected to try and find the main entrance.

'This is utterly dreadful.’ The kitchens were stale, the scent of fine foods washed out with the dreary atmosphere. With four workers stationed around the area, they ducked behind a cluster of barrels, searching for any sort of opening to freedom. Without windows, it was not an easy feat, but their eyes caught a pale glow emanating beyond the door but a few steps away.

'Surely this was it! They’d finally be saved from this life, freed from this torturous existence. Whatever came next, they’d face with open arms. It was their life to choose.’ They slipped through the door, shutting it delicately behind them. A beat of silence passed, and when no outrage was heard from the kitchen, they let out a breath into the chilled air. This cold was unmistakable, even for someone as isolated as they’d been. The ice against their feet burned, but it was nothing compared to the emotion they felt as they turned to look out into the new environment. Icy it may have been, but this was no open land.

As they gazed ahead, they found all that they could see were rows of red tinted, hanging slabs of ice. These hooked sculptures had them retching, covering their mouth and pressing their back against the door. The meat locker reeked of death, of misery and of failure. All the hopelessness they’d battled till this moment came crashing down around them as their legs gave out. Boneless, they slumped on the slippery ground, feeling the sheer cold envelop them. As their brain succumbed to the exhaustion, they smiled, knowing that even this was an escape. This ending was of their own creation; they’d taken their life back.

Minutes later, controlled footsteps approached the locker, as a kitchen maid pushed open the heavy wood. Pointed shoes approached the small, slouched figure, gently scooping it up with steady hands. Il Dottore smiled down at their peaceful face, brushing stray snowflakes from their lashes. “Now then, doll, let us observe the effects of the regenerative serum, shall we?”

-

Alright, I haven’t written anything of substance for the past several years, so I hope this at least comes across as legible. I started off vaguely reinterpreting the audio cues as I went, writing without any real direction and then it just sort of spiralled from there. The ending sort of reminds me of a fairytale I grew up with: the little match girl. A rather vague reference, but writing in a Snezhnayan setting had me reflecting on my own Russian-Ukrainian heritage and therefore my upbringing(note: uh, yeah, we’re doing greattt), so that’s my reasoning for the unhinged direction it went.

Who wants one??

If I had a nickel for every time a fic went so hard I had to impulsively stress bake cake muffins, if have two nickels. Which isn't a lot but it's weird that it happened twice.

Apropos of (almost) nothing: I'm the kind of pedant who dislikes calling tentacle porn "tentacle porn" not because I think it's aberrant but because, 98% of the time, what's being depicted are octoform arms or tendrils, not tentacles. Tentacles are defined by the clubbed ends, which are the only part that have suckers. If it's tapered and has suckers all the way down, it's an octoform arm; if it has no suckers at all, it's a tendril.

You're welcome.