yes yes all fandoms apply

I’m so glad I just read fanfiction instead of getting caught up in the bullsh*t manufactured drama of writing and discussing fanfiction where apparently people have to now justify why they like a ship or not.

Seriously, a lot of y'all have way too much damn time on your hands!

If you don’t like a ship, then don’t read a ship. It’s that f*cking simple. Stop trying to make a moral case out of that bullsh*t. You’re not deep. You’re not “woke.” You’re not anything, but a self-absorbed asshat who needs to make everything about you.

Again, if you don’t like it, don’t f*cking read it.

Originally posted by chatshitgetburnt

you know what tumblr fandoms should consider more?


there needs to be more lesbians 

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You know what I want out of fandom?

More stories about unrequited love where it isn’t the total center of somebody’s life.  Where you don’t throw your whole heart into pining uselessly for something you know you can’t have.  Where instead it’s just a little niggling at the back of your character’s brain, a constant, sure, I’d hit that if they wanted me back, and if your character ever looked at it a little deeper they’d have to admit it’s more like, I want to hit that and also hold hands and cuddle as badly as I’ve ever wanted anything in my life, on par with wanting to be an astronaut when I was eight, and it is about as likely to happen as the astronaut thing.  So they don’t look, just like they try to avoid the astronaut thing (or the pet dragon thing, or the superhero thing, whatever it was when they were eight and young enough to just want, purely and hard enough that there’s still a little scar of regret, all these years later).

They get on with their life.  They date other people.  They’re a good friend.  They manage.  They just never stop wanting.

Give me unrequited love that is like longing for the moon, something distant and fantastic and never to be, wistful and rueful and already resigned.  Give me the rare little pinpricks of hurt, when the object-of-affections says something, does something, throws an arm over your character’s shoulders and smiles, the shocked blossoming from casual yeah, I would (but you daren’t invest more) into wait, maybe? for me? and inevitable tumble back to seriously, no, never.  I’ve had so many characters who live perpetually on the knife-edge of hope and pining; give me one for whom hope is a brief, short-lived stab come out of the blue, weeks or months apart, there and gone in seconds, just enough of a reminder that oh yes, you do still want.

Give me a relationship where all the other feelings are more important than the unrequited love buried deep and not-quite-forgotten, where there’s room to fall in love with other people and mean it, and yet that subtle little prickle of oh, but I want never, ever quite goes away.  Give me that story.