And now, a passive-aggressive lecture

Sorry to interrupt your fun scrolling, but if you could read this, I would be greatly thankful.

Now, I’m usually a very calm, happy person who sees the bright side of everything. I’m very hard to anger. But this has me pretty heated.

So here are my thoughts on the matter of toxic fanbases, and the people who leave a fandom and turn away from a series they love because of the toxic people within the fanbase.

Warning for any kiddos or trigger happy morons who are looking to report the tiniest little attack on their precious egos: There will be swearing.

 

I’ve been a little hyper-attentive at the hate and toxicity within fandoms and fanbases these days. Though I highly doubt this will stop people from being total asshats, I still want to make my opinion known. As, of course, people like to do these days. Usually in the form of hate filled speeches with death threats, but luckily you won’t find much of that here.

What baffles me is why people take these fiction worlds, with fictional characters, so seriously. Seriously enough to send death threats to people and overall being terrible to other because they don’t ship the same characters you do. It’s amazing how people can take something so great and use it as a means to be an immoral human being,

I find it funny how people let other people’s fight ruin their own person experience. Here, I’ll use a little comparison.

Say you enter a really good food place. You love the food there. It’s amazing, well made, tastes like home, etc. But then, people around you start to argue over which part of the food is best, what side it goes best with, etc.

Now tell me, are you going to let their opinions change your opinion on the food you love? If you don’t want to hear their arguments, put on some music and enjoy the food you love. Don’t let other people define your food or your love for that food. The food being the series.

If people try to rope you into shit, say something alone the lines of “No thanks, I want to enjoy the series in peace.” And move on. If they harass you? Block them. Easy.

Let’s answer a few statements I’ve seen people use to justify their actions:

“But these characters affect the children and people!”

Um, yeah? That’s what they’re supposed to do. Fictional characters are made to set examples for us real people. What is right, what is wrong, life lessons we would personally not have been able to learn with our own lives, humor, sorrow, anger, and happiness. Sometimes people look to the series for something they are missing in their day to day life. Don’t be a rusty toe rag and ruin the series for that person because they don’t like the same character as you.

“They ship something that is totally immoral and damaging! We can’t let their opinions affect the series!”

Let the person ship whatever they damn well want, people. Just because they ship something toxic doesn’t mean the characters within the direct series will be affected. It’s not like they’ll hack into the creator’s database and directly damage the series by writing in their damaging fantasies. Even then, the ship might not even be as bad as you think. People could just be blowing it out of proportion because they’re brains are too small. Other people’s opinions shouldn’t affect yours. If you like it, you like it. If you don’t like it, you don’t like it. If you don’t give a rat’s ass, you don’t give a rat’s ass.

“But this person is harassing other people. That gives us the right to harass them back!”

Hell no, it doesn’t. I don’t care how bad this person may be. I don’t care if they’re threatening to kill you or screaming at you in CAPS. Block. Report. Ignore. Easy as that. That person will either learn their lesson and stop, or they’ll hit rock bottom and we can watch as they dive into darkness and destroy themselves.

“They stole my idea! I’m just getting back at them for stealing my idea!”

First of all, you are just as bad as them, for the same reasons as they answer above. Someone stole an idea? Well, first, contact them and see if they did it on purpose. Their response to your accusation (a polite once, asking if they were aware you kind of patented the idea first) should say a lot. If they apologize and take it out/change it to something more original, then good on them. You successfully avoided becoming an asshole. If they freak out and say you stole their idea, then block, report, get friends to help you report (NOT HARRASS) the sucker, and move on.

“They are clearly reading the entire series wrong. I tried to explain that this is how it is, but they don’t listen! Ugh!”

First of all, shut your mouth and realize that you are not the series Guru. People interpret things differently. Your interpretation is not the Holy Prophecy that foretells everything within the series. You could be wrong. You could be right. The person seeing the series differently could be right. They could be wrong. You never know until you see the outcome within the series. Maybe, instead of fighting over who is right, maybe people can take their heads out of their asses and hear the other person out. Even if they don’t agree with that other person’s theory. You don’t have to. Just respect that people believe things differently.

“So pedophilia is okay? huh??? crack?? you smoke it?????”

I did not say that Pedophilia is okay. It’s far from okay. Just because someone ships something that is pedophilia, does not make it a good ship, nor does it justify it.

If someone ships something pedophilic, there is no reason to make a big deal out of it. If you don’t like it, don’t look at their ship. Block them if you feel the need to. When enough people block them (and at most, politely tell them that they think their ship is wrong), then they’ll hopefully learn their lesson and stop and keep their weird fantasies to themselves. There you go, problem solved.

And if you’re worried that children will see it, then get this: it’s not your problem. Children who aren’t old enough to know that Pedophilia is wrong shouldn’t be on the internet anyways. Even if they are, then it’s up to their parents to tell them off and say it’s wrong.

If you have any more statements for me to answer, please send them. I’ll happily answer.

My point is, just shut up and enjoy the series, people. Whether it be Wings of Fire, Voltron, Rick and Morty, Steven Universe, etc. Not everyone is going to agree with your little theory or ship. Don’t blow that shit out of proportion and make a scene. If you don’t want the fanbase to drive you away and ruin your series, then don’t be a part of the toxic part of the fandom. Ignore it and block toxic people. There’s no reason this should be as big as a problem as it is.

People are out there stomping on toxic pools and dumping scum on themselves and then complaining about the scum they dumped on themselves. It’s easy to just turn away and not go into the pools and enjoy the scenery. If someone pulls you into the pool, get out and clean yourself off and block that person from being able to drag you in again. Make your own little oasis area away from the scum.

In short:

Stop being little dramatic little shits (unless you’re not, then good on you and I’m proud of you for not being an atrocious human being) and just enjoy the series and what it has to offer without being horrible to each other.

Thank you for reading through my lecture. I hope you have a great day, and don’t send death threats to people.

writing-prompt-s:

cell113:

hardykat:

americanninjax:

iopele:

thehoneybeewitch:

jumpingjacktrash:

fireandshellamari:

gilajames:

captaintinymite:

wickedwitchofthewifi:

silvermoonphantom:

rocky-horror-shit-show:

geniusorinsanity:

bigmammallama5:

voidbat:

eatbreathewrite:

writing-prompt-s:

An old and homely grandmother accidentally summons a demon. She mistakes him for her gothic-phase teenage grandson and takes care of him. The demon decides to stay at his new home.

It isn’t uncommon for this particular demon to be summoned—from
exhausting Halloween party pranks in abandoned barns to more legitimate (more
exhausting) ceremonies in forests—but it has to admit, this is the first time
it’s been called forth from its realm into a claustrophobic living room bathed
in the dull orange-pink glow of old glass lamps and a multitude of wide-eyed,
creepy antique porcelain dolls that could give Chucky a run for his money with
all of their silent, seething stares combined. Accompanying those oddities are
tea cup and saucer sets on shelves atop frilly doilies crocheted with the
utmost care, and cross-stitched, colorful ‘Home Sweet Home’s hung across the wood-paneled
walls.

It’s a mistake—a wrong number, per se. No witch it’s ever
known has lived in such an, ah, dated,
home. Furthermore, no practitioner that ever summoned it has been absent, as if
they’d up and ding-dong ditched it. No, it didn’t work that way. Not at all.
Not if they want to survive the encounter.

It hears the clinking of movement in the room adjacent—the kitchen,
going by the pungent, bitter scent of cooled coffee and soggy, sweet sponge
cakes, but more jarring is the smell of blood. It moves—feels something slip
beneath its clawed foot as it does, and sees a crocheted blanket of whites and greys
and deep black yarn, wound intricately, perfectly, into a summoning circle. Its summoning circle. There is a small splash
of bright scarlet and sharp, jagged bits of a broken curio scattered on top,
as if someone had dropped it, attempted to pick it up the pieces and pricked their finger.
It would explain the blood. And it would explain the demon being brought into
this strange place.

As it connects these pieces in its mind, the inhabitant of
the house rounds the corner and exits the kitchen, holding a damp, white dish
towel close to her hand and fumbling with the beaded bifocals hanging from her
neck by a crocheted lanyard before stopping dead in her tracks.

Now, to be fair, the demon wouldn’t ordinarily second guess
being face-to-face with a hunchbacked crone with a beaked nose, beady eyes and
a peculiar lack of teeth, or a spidery shawl and ankle-length black dress, but
there is definitely something amiss here. Especially when the old biddy lets
her spectacles fall slack on her bosom and erupts into a wide, toothy (toothless)
grin, eyes squinting and crinkling from the sheer effort of it.

“Todd! Todd, dear, I didn’t know you were visiting this year!
You didn’t call, you didn’t write—but, oh, I’m so happy you’re here, dear!
Would it have been too much to ask you to ring the doorbell? I almost had a
heart attack. And don’t worry about the blood, here—I had an accident. My favorite
figure toppled off of the table and cleanup didn’t go as expected. But I seem
to recall you are quite into the bloodshed and ‘edgy’ stuff these days, so I
don’t suppose you mind.” She releases a hearty, kind laugh, but it isn’t
mocking, it’s sweet. Grandmotherly. The demon is by no means sentimental or
maudlin, but the kindness, the familiarity, the genuine fondness, does pull a
few dusty old nostalgic heartstrings. “Imagine if it leaves a scar! It’d be a
bit ‘badass,’ as you teenagers say, wouldn’t it?”

She is as blind as a bat without her glasses, it would appear,
because the demon is by no means a ‘Todd’ or a human at all, though humanoid, shrouded
in sleek, black skin and hard spikes and sharp claws. But the demon humors her, if only
because it had been caught off guard.

The old woman smiles still, before turning on her heel and
shuffling into the hallway with a stiff gait revealing a poor hip. “Be a dear
and make some more coffee, would you please? I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

Yes, this is most definitely a mistake. One for the record
books, for certain. For late-night trips to bars and conversations with colleagues,
while others discuss how many souls they’d swindled in exchange for peanuts, or
how many first-borns they’d been pledged for things idiot humans could have
gained without divine intervention. Ugh. Sometimes it all just became so pedantic
that little detours like this were a blessing—happy accidents, as the humans
would say.

That’s why the demon does as asked, and plods slowly into
the kitchen, careful to duck low and avoid the top of the doorframe. That’s why
it gingerly takes the small glass pot and empties it of old, stale coffee and carefully,
so carefully, takes a measuring scoop between its claws and fills the machine
with fresh grounds. It’s as the hot water is percolating that the old woman
returns, her index finger wrapped tight in a series of beige bandages.

“I’m surprised you’re so tall, Todd! I haven’t seen you
since you were at my hip! But your mother mails photos all the time—you do love
wearing all black, don’t you?” She takes a seat at the small round table in the
corner and taps the glass lid of the cake plate with quaking, unsteady, aged hands. “I was starting to think you’d
never visit. Your father and I have
had our disagreements, but…I am glad you’re here, dear. Would you like some
cake?” Before the demon has a chance to decline, she lifts the lid and cuts a
generous slice from the near-complete circle that has scarcely been touched. It
smells of citrus and cream and is, as assumed earlier, soggy, oversaturated
with icing.

It was made for a special occasion, for guests, but it doesn’t
seem this old woman receives much company in this musty, stagnant house that
smells like an antique garage that hadn’t had its dust stirred in years.

Especially not from her absentee grandson, Todd.

The demon waits until the coffee pot is full, and takes two
small mugs from the counter, filling them until steam is frothing over the
rims. Then, and only then, does it accept the cake and sit, with some
difficulty, in a small chair at the small table. It warbles out a polite ‘thank
you,’ but it doesn’t suppose the woman understands. Manners are manners
regardless.

“Oh, dear, I can hardly understand. Your voice has gotten so
deep, just like your grandfather’s was. That, and I do recall you have an affinity
for that gravelly, screaming music. Did your voice get strained? It’s alright,
dear, I’ll do the talking. You just rest up. The coffee will help soothe.”

The demon merely nods—some communication can be understood
without fail—and drinks the coffee and eats the cake with a too-small fork. It’s
ordinary, mushy, but delicious because of the intent behind it and the love
that must have gone into its creation.

“I hope you enjoyed all of the presents I sent you. You
never write back—but I am aware most people use that fancy E-mail these days. I
just can’t wrap my head around it. I do wish your mom and dad would visit sometime.
I know of a wonderful little café down the street we can go to. I haven’t been; I wanted to visit it with Charles, before he…well.” She falls silent in her
rambling, staring into her coffee with a small, melancholy smile. “I can’t
believe it’s been ten years. You never had the chance to meet him. But never mind
that.” Suddenly, and with surprising speed that has the demon concerned for her well being, she moves to her feet, bracing her hands on the edge of the table. “I may as
well give you your birthday present, since you’re here. What timing! I only
finished it this morning. I’ll be right back.”

When she returns, the white, grey and black crocheted work with the summoning
circle is bundled in her arms.  

“I found these designs in an occult book I borrowed from the
library. I thought you’d like them on a nice, warm blanket to fight off the
winter chill—I hope you do like it.” With gentle hands, she spreads the blanket
over the demon’s broad, spiky back like a shawl, smoothing it over craggy shoulders
and patting its arms affectionately. “Happy birthday, Todd, dear.”

Well, that settles it. Whoever, wherever, Todd is, he’s
clearly missing out. The demon will just have to be her grandson from now on.

this is so sweet. it made me want to hug someone.

i had to

I WOULD WATCH SIX SEASONS AND A MOVIE

Okay but she takes him to the little cafe and all of the people in her town are like “What is that thing, what the hell, Anette?” and she’s like “Don’t you remember my grandson Todd?” and the entire town just has to play along because no one will tell little old Nettie that her grandson is an actual demon because this is the happiest she’s been since her husband died.

Bonus: In season 4 she makes him run for mayor and he wins

I just want to watch ‘Todd’ help her with groceries, and help her with cooking, and help her clean up the dust around the house and air it out, and fill it with spring flowers because Anette mentioned she loved hyacinth and daffodils.
 
Over the seasons her eyesight worsens, so ‘Todd’ brings a hellhound into the house to act as her seeing eye dog, and people in town are kinda terrified of this massive black brute with fur that drips like thick oil, and a mouth that can open all the way back to its chest, but ‘Honey’ likes her hard candies, and doesn’t get oil on the carpet, and when ‘Todd’ has to go back to Hell for errands, Honey will snuggle up to Anette and rest his giant head on her lap, and whuff at her pockets for butterscotch. 

Anette never gives ‘Todd’ her soul, but she gives him her heart

In season six, Anette gets sick. She spends most of the season bedridden and it becomes obvious by about midway through the season that she’s not going to make it to the end of the season. Todd spends the season travelling back and forth between the human realm and his home plane, trying hard to find something, anything that will help Anette get better, to prolong her life. He’s tried getting her to sell him her soul, but she’s just laughed, told him that he shouldn’t talk like that.

With only a few episodes left in the season Anette passes away, Todd is by her side. When the reaper comes for her Todd asks about the fate of her soul. In a dispassionate voice the reaper informs Todd that Anette spent the last few years of her life cavorting with creatures of darkness, that there can be only one fate for her. Todd refuses to accept this and he fights the reaper, eventually injuring the creature and driving it off. Knowing that Anette cannot stay in the Human Realm, and refusing to allow her spirit to be taken by another reaper, so he takes her soul in his arms. He’s done this before, when mortals have sold themselves to him. This time the soul cradled against his chest does not snuggle and fight. This time the soul held tight against him reaches out, pats him on the cheek tells him he was a good boy, and so handsome, just like his grandfather. 

Todd takes Anette back to the demon realm, holding her tight against him as he travels across the bleak and forebidding landscape; such a sharp contrast to the rosy warmth of Anette’s home. Eventually, in a far corner of his home plane, Todd finds what he is looking for. It is a place where other demons do not tread; a large boulder cracked and broken, with a gap just barely large enough for Todd to fit through. This crack, of all things, gives him pause, but Anette’s soul makes a comment about needing to get home in time to feed Honey, and Todd forces himself to pass through it. He travels in darkness for a while, before he emerges into into a light so bright that it’s blinding. His eyes adjust slowly, and he finds himself face to face with two creatures, each of them at least twice his size one of them has six wings and the head of a lion, one of them is an amorphous creature within several rings. The lion-headed one snarls at Todd, and demands that he turn back, that he has no business here. 

Todd looks down, holding Anette’s soul against his chest, he takes a deep breath, and speaks a single word, “Please.”

The two larger beings are taken aback by this. They are too used to Todd’s kind being belligerent, they consult with each other, they argue. The amorphous one seems to want to be lenient, the lion-headed one insists on being stricter. While they’re arguing Todd sneaks by them and runs as fast as he can, deeper into the brightly lit expanse. The path on which he travels begins to slope upwards, and eventually becomes a staircase. It becomes evident that each step further up the stair is more and more difficult for Todd, that it’s physically paining him to climb these stairs, but he keeps going.

They dedicate a full episode to this climb; interspersing the climb with scenes they weren’t able to show in previous seasons, Anette and Honey coming to visit Todd in the Mayor’s office, Anette and Todd playing bingo together for the first time, Anette and Todd watching their stories together in the mid afternoon, Anette falling asleep in her chair and Todd gently carrying her to bed. Anette making Todd lemonade in the summer while he’s up on the roof fixing that leak and cleaning out the rain gutters. Eventually Todd reaches the top, and all but collapses, he falls to a knee and for the first time his grip on Anette’s soul slips, and she falls away from him. Landing on the ground.

He reaches out for her, but someone gets there first. Another hand reaches out, and helps this elderly woman off the ground, helps her get to her feet. Anette gasps, it’s Charles. The pair of them throw their arms around each other. Anette tells Charles that she’s missed him so much, and she has so much to tell him. Charles nods. Todd watches a soft smile on his face. A delicate hand touches Todd’s shoulder, and pulls him easily to his feet. A figure; we never see exactly what it looks like, leans down, whispering in Todd’s ear that he’s done well, and that Anette will be well taken care of here. That she will spend an eternity with her loved ones. Todd looks back over to her, she’s surrounded by a sea of people. Todd nods, and smiles. The figure behind him tells him that while he has done good in bringing Anette here, this is not his place, and he must leave. Todd nods, he knew this would be the case.

Todd gets about six steps down the stairway before he is stopped by someone grabbing his shoulder again. He turns around, and Anette is standing behind him. She gives him a big hug and leads him back up the stairs, he should stay, she says. Get to know the family. Todd tries to tell her that he can’t stay, but she won’t hear it. She leads him up into the crowd of people and begins introducing him to long dead relatives of hers, all of whom give him skeptical looks when she introduces him as her grandson.

The mysterious figure appears next to Todd again and tells him once more he must leave, Todd opens his mouth to answer but Anette cuts him off. Nonsense, she tells the figure. IF she’s gonna stay here forever her grandson will be welcome to visit her. She and the figure stare at each other for a moment. The figure eventually sighs and looks away, the figure asks Todd if she’s always like this. Todd just shrugs and smiles, allowing Anette to lead him through a pair of pearly gates, she’s already talking about how much cake they’ll need to feed all of these relatives. 

P.S. Honey is a Good Dog and gets to go, too.

the last lines of the show:

demon: you’re not blind here – but you’re not surprised. when…?

anette: oh, toddy, don’t be silly, my biological grandson’s not twelve feet tall and doesn’t scorch the furniture when he sneezes. i’ve known for ages.

demon: then why?

anette: you wouldn’t have stayed if you weren’t lonely too.

demon: you… you don’t have to keep calling me your grandson.

anette: nonsense! adopted children are just as real. now quit sniffling, you silly boy, and let’s go bake a cake. honey, heel!

honey: W̝̽̂̿͂͝Ọ̮̹̲̪̋ͦͅO̸̘͔̬͊F̜̫͙̟͕͖̙̋ͫ͌͗

that addition is a+ 🙂

THE ONLY ENDING I WILL EVER ACCEPT FOR THIS

Every time this post shows up on my dash, it gets better (and more heart wrenching. Y’all! Stop cutting the onions okay?!).

If ever don’t reblogging this, I’m either dead, dying, or buried under cat.

This is why I love Tumblr so much! Thank you all for collaborating on this prompt and turning it into something beautiful ❤

Check out our story tag for more stories

worldsonlylivingheartdonor:

If a cis person, a straight person, a gamer, a white person, or a member of another non-oppressed group asks, “Where’s MY pride parade? Where’s MY special flag? Where’s MY exclusive club?” Then they must also ask…

“Where’s my fabric patch that my people were forced to wear on their clothing during the Holocaust?”

“Where are the laws that deny me being able to adopt children, marry my partner, or freely use the public bathroom that makes me feel safest?”

“Where are the politicians and religious figures that openly murder and imprison my people?”

If none of these questions make any sense in regard to their group, then perhaps they should next ask, “Why am I trivializing the traumatic history of oppressed people trying to survive in a world that violently tries to make them disappear?”

aroace-people-are-lgtbq:

“Demi means normal”

Absolutely it does.

There’s nothing weird or strange about only experiencing attraction once you have formed an emotional bond with someone.

Just like there’s nothing weird or strange about experiencing no attraction or some attraction or having attraction.

Everyone is normal. We just have different ways of experiencing the world