there are !

people need to stop doing three things: 

  • thinking that just because something makes them uncomfortable, that means its wrong / “problematic”
  • thinking that their opinion is absolutely, 100% right and anyone who thinks differently is “problematic” and should be called out

  • throw around words / terms they obviously have no idea what they mean in a accusatory or “call out” manner  

people need to start doing one thing:

  • realize that fandom / the internet itself is not their safe space and it’s their responsibility to maintain / control what they consume and if they don’t like something or if something makes them uncomfortable to the point that they can’t reasonably react to it then they need to block it, blacklist it and move on
the Hamlet-Horatio fic with the kettle that I said I would write

A scream from down the hallway blasted the Latin revision from Horatio’s mind. He stared at his dorm door, decided he would ignore the sound, and then a frantic hammering started on the other side.


He opened the door on Rozencrantz and Guildernstern, who looked terrified, but also drunk. He gave them A Look.

“Listen, Rozencrantz-“


“-Guildenstern. What the fuck’s happening?”

“We came in and we’re drunk, and the kettle- Roze wanted some- Hamlet’s dead!”

Horatio drummed his fingers on the doorframe. Hamlet was that posh bastard who bragged about not being able to boil an egg, and then took the piss out of Horatio for using instant coffee. Hadn’t even asked what his name was. It was obviously a wind-up.

“Not in the mood, guys. I’m really-”

“He’s dead!” Rozencrantz hissed. “Literally dead! And you’re- you’re the clever one!”

Horatio had a test on Monday. He glared at Rozencrantz. He grabbed his room key from the hook.


Hamlet was piled in a heap on the kitchen floor, motionless. Horatio went to him.

He laid Hamlet on his side, and as the lights flickered into life, his stomach dropped when he saw the guy’s face was bluish.

“Jesus shit. Have you called 999?”

Rozencrantz’ eyes widened.

“I told you he was fucking clever, Guilders!”

And he ran out. Horatio’s fingers scrabbled for Hamlet’s pulse. He grabbed a towel hanging off the oven door and rolled it up.

“Hamlet.” He said loudly, “Hamlet, if you can speak, Hamlet, speak to me. Or- or- or make some sort of sign.” He checked for breathing.

Guildernstern hopped from foot to foot behind him.

“Stop it, Guilders!” He hissed.

“Can I do something?” Guildernstern burst out, “I want to do something, mate?”

“Get a glass of water or something, and shut up, I need to concentrate.”

Horatio laid Hamlet on his back, put the rolled up towel under the back of his neck, and knelt at his side.

He took a breath, and clasped his hands on top of Hamlet’s chest.

Rozencrantz nearly bumped into Guildernstern when he came back with the phone.

“Yeah. Yeah.” He was saying into it. “No- we- our friend, yeah, he’s sober, and he’s doing the pumping chest whatsit. Seems to know what he’s doing? Usually does. We’re up at the uni-“

Hamlet inhaled loudly. Horatio nearly jumped out of his skin.


“Ffffffuck.” Hamlet coughed. “Fuck.”

“Hamlet, stay- stay with us. Stay.”

Horatio held out his hand, Guildernstern went over and passed him the water.

“Hamlet, if there’s anything I can do to make this easier, you need to let me know. Can you sit up? Can I help you sit up?”

Hamlet didn’t protest, so Horatio sat and supported him.

“Who’s there?” Hamlet mumbled into his chest.

“Friends. Roze, Guilders. Oh- I’m Horatio. We sort of haven’t met.”

“Horatio? What a stupid name.”

“Thank you, Hamlet.”

“Give me the cup.”

But he could barely move, and Horatio noticed burn marks on his hands. He glanced at the counter and noticed a pool of water, with a peeling cable in the middle of it, connected to the kettle. Didn’t need his grandfather to materialise in the sky to make sense of it.

He helped Hamlet drink. Both their breathings returned to more normal rates, and sirens wailed in the distance.

BONUS (for nerds):

“Er, sorry, is he alright now?”

Everyone glanced up at the new voice. Another student, in pyjamas, stood at the kitchen door.

“Yeah. Basically fine.” Horatio said. “Paramedics should be along in a bit.”

“That’s incredible.” The student said. “I mean, he was- he was definitely-“

“Yeah, mate, it’s ok. You can go back to bed now.” Horatio vaguely remembered this guy. Weird surname.

“Like- he was dead,” The unknown persisted. “-like dead. And you made him alive.”

“Listen, James-“

“John. John F-”

“John. I’m a bit stressed right now. It’s not magic. You can probably learn it yourself.”

“Right.” John said. “Out of books?”

“Can do.”

“Right.” John said. “Wicked.”


@percyhotspur @runecestershire @dark-haired-hamlet @bowieboosh @theacelombax @season-a-day-kind-of-fan @thestereotypebuster @her-madjesty @javagirl98 because you guys responded to the post i made about this

in my experience swearing is different in french vs in english like you can’t say things like ta mère en string devant carrouf or c'est toi le jus de poire or bordel de cul de pompe à merde in english it just doesn’t sound the same

anonymous asked:

Ok,I get it: you're a meme. That doesn't excuse the fact that the description to your video was offensive. Idk if Easter is sacred to you, but it is to a lot of people. To curse in the same sentence as Easter is rude, bro. The whole thing is mocking Christianity. (I know it's a meme, but s was an inappropriate place for one.) I don't mean to come off abrasively and I'm sorry if I do, but I hope next time you can be a little considerate concerning religious stuff.

So this is a sampling of what I woke up to when I went to check my AO3 inbox and my tumblr notes for Tranquility:

External image

So I’m thinking Tranquility is going to get a second chapter. Or more.