#ik that i don't usually respond to comments on tumblr
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poisoned rats in a pot of grain - ch. 9
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y'all i've had this planned out practically since the beginning. i've known how this battle would go for literal months. really happy to finally be here :)
cw: violence, blood, death, dehumanization
~
Jimmy’s awoken quite suddenly in his cell (the door opens and he’s on his knees, he’s good, he’ll go where they want him), four guards filing in. One of them unlocks his handcuffs, another tosses the Canary costume onto his bed. He understands easily enough—his master wants him out in a fight, right now.
He wonders what kind of fight. What he’ll be expected to do.
He’s murdered two people at his master’s command since the first, a woman and another man.
He heard once that killing never gets easier. It’s always just as difficult to take a human life as it was the first time.
Whoever said that was a liar.
Jimmy’s killed three people, and he thinks less and less about it with each scream he hears. His master is pleased with him, and that’s all that matters.
Jimmy knows that if Xornoth tells him to kill today, he won’t hesitate.
The suit has more buckles than his bumbling fingers can manage, so he gestures to those and is relieved when a guard steps forward, helps him buckle up the suit while he does things like sort out the harness of the glider and pull the boots on. It’s the fastest he’s ever put this on, he thinks, even though they shove his hat on without giving him the time to clip it in place.
They attach his leash to his collar, lead him out of the room and down the hall, not toward the meeting room but instead the throne room. His heart hammers in his chest—he hates it in there, but he’ll survive. He’s not in trouble if he’s in his Canary suit, his master is just wishing to meet him there.
Sure enough, they lead him straight to the throne instead of to the covered dog crate, shove him forward. His master is reclining there, takes the leash, loops it around their wrist twice.
Jimmy stands uncertainly for a moment, waiting for his master to rise. They don’t, only gesture to their knee. He drops instantly, presses his chin up to them.
Something’s happening. This isn’t a normal meeting, this isn’t an average show of intimidation. The fight must be coming this way.
Jimmy’s right, because within minutes, there’s sounds—more than the shifting of the dozen guards shifting at the other end of the room. A door in the hall opening and closing, followed by footsteps landing on all the creaky floorboards coming from the hall. Xornoth holds up a hand, stops the guards milling around the room from seeking it out. Soon the sounds cut off, and suddenly there are two people being dragged into the room who have no business being here.
One of them is Major, mouth twisted into a snarl as he shoulders the guards holding him.
The other is Lizzie.
Jimmy can’t breathe for a moment. It’s not just Lizzie, it’s the ocean villain. Lady Shadow, or whatever she’s called. She’s only been involved in one fight with him, and he’d never had the time to properly look at her, but now she’s just meters away and mask or not it’s Lizzie.
Lizzie, whom he had presumed dead.
Lizzie, who had disappeared years ago with no trace.
Lizzie, whom he’d last seen over their parents’ dead bodies, the house burning down around them.
Lizzie, his sister.
He’s missed her. He hadn’t realized until now, until here she is, right in front of him, hair longer and eyes harder and wearing a mask, but his sister all the same. He’s missed her so desperately that it aches, more than it has in years, years in which he had grieved her and moved on because moving on is all he ever does, isn’t it?
His master is playing with his hair and the familiarity of it grounds him, pulls him back into the situation at hand. Jimmy breathes, breathes through the yank of his hair, and settles back into being a pet, though his eyes never leave Lizzie’s. Hers flick from him to Xornoth and back again, paying attention to whatever his master is saying.
Then Xornoth unclips his leash and says his name and Jimmy looks up, waits for instructions. His master tells him to keep the ocean woman out of the way.
He can do that.
Jimmy dives at Lizzie and—the guards jump aside as his arms wrap around her—barrels her into the ground. They roll for a moment—an explosion of sorts from Xornoth’s battle rattles Jimmy’s teeth—he shoves himself up to his feet, sways, then runs.
He’s got to keep her distracted, and distracted means she’s not teaming up on his master with Major. And since he really doesn’t want to hurt her, he needs to pull her away from the fight.
He doesn’t even make it out of the room before water hits him in the back, sending him down. He rolls with it the best he can. It once was second nature to pull a quick kip-up to get to his feet, but now, weakened as he is, he has to pull himself up from hands and knees.
He manages to shove Lizzie to the ground, but her water tugs at his wrist in a way that chafes at the ever-present scabs there. He bites his lip hard, somehow pulls free. A wave of his other arm and a burst of power sends five guards to their knees, electrocuted by their own batons malfunctioning. Handy.
Jimmy leans against the wall for a moment, closes his eyes for the adrenaline to flow through him—
The wall collapses under him and Jimmy knows he’s going to be punished for that, but for now he just stumbles through the wreckage, out of the room and into the long hallway, his boots leaving white footprints in the wood polish. Lizzie’s following behind him, good—it’s his job to keep her away from his master.
He holds her off the best he can for as long as can, darting from place to place in the hall and slashing with the long knife pulled from the inside of his coat when she gets too close. He doesn’t want to pull out his throwing knives, he doesn’t want to lose one or give his opponent an extra weapon, usually he only uses them with plenty of room to dodge if a knife is thrown back in his direction but in this enclosed space—
Lizzie tackles him to the ground, his head knocking against the leg of an end table and his knife flying from his loose grip. He struggles, but his limbs feel like lead with her pinning them down—he hasn’t eaten in who knows how long, he can’t believe that he’s gotten more than a few hours of sleep recently—he’s not good enough, he can’t do as his master commanded—
Lizzie’s entire weight is atop him, pressing into bruises and cuts and his bad hip clunks in the socket and Jimmy can’t help but cry out. He’s not winning this fight. He squints his eyes shut, turns his head, waits for her to knock him out—
“You killed my parents,” Lizzie growls, and Jimmy’s heart crumbles into pieces.
It’s been a rough day at school, from all of Jimmy’s homework getting soaked in a freak water fountain incident to opening the gym closet to find all of the sports balls had deflated.
It’s been two months of the same, and Jimmy is sick of it.
To come into a power so late isn’t unheard of, but it’s incredibly rare, so his parents had taken him to get bloodwork done after a week of unexplainable accidents. At first, the whole family had been excited—they celebrated with a cake and streamers when the results came back positive, Lizzie leaning into the fish tank to tell Jory the good news. But soon enough, exhaustion at everything in his life going wrong sets in, and Jimmy can’t help but feel depressed. Lizzie grows moody, shuts herself in her room after school every day, yells at Jimmy when the power goes out for the sixth time that month. His parents become more and more tired, assure him that it isn’t his fault through strained smiles, start looking into powers counseling to see if maybe someone can help Jimmy learn to control it sooner than the natural course seems to be taking (which is strange, he shouldn’t be this out of control after two months of trying, but he’s even worse than when it started).
It’s all thrown out the window today, when Jimmy gets home, already stressed, to find both his parents sitting at the dining table, talking in low voices.
They’re going to send him away. He knows it before they even say anything, because his father’s been crying and his mother has a notebook before her, fond as she is of pros and cons lists.
Jimmy sits wordlessly across from them, already stressed and tired, already resigned to leaving his family and his friends and his home, when the oven bursts into flames.
His brain kicks into overdrive as his parents both shout, he can't even think of what to do—
And then they go still, mid-stride to the kitchen, faces looking funny. Without any sound other than a strangled gurgle from his father, they collapse.
Jimmy’s on his knees in a moment, searching for a pulse—nothing. Nothing. Nothing. He starts CPR, he’d learned it at camp years ago, he screams for help but no one hears and his mother’s body jerks under him with no movement of her own—
The door opens and Lizzie’s there, staring at Jimmy and their dead parents and the burning kitchen.
Lizzie runs, right back out the door, runs until Jimmy’s certain that his calls don’t reach her anymore.
Jimmy runs, too, before the fire department arrives, stopping to take nothing but his backpack.
He sees his parents’ obituaries in a newspaper four days later.
He never sees Lizzie again.
He doesn’t know what to say to her now, her eyes burning with anger as she presses him into the floor. He knows what he’s always wanted to, what he’s imagined telling her so many times, but his voice isn’t his. He can’t speak without permission, can’t speak without prompting, the words that fall from his lips belonging solely to his master.
Maybe he can steal a few words, because this is the first time ever that something actually seems worth any punishment to follow.
Lizzie presses her forearm down against Jimmy’s throat for a moment before pulling back the weight—a warning. “Say something, Solidarity,” she hisses. “Say something before I kill you.”
And Jimmy swallows, then forces himself to speak.
“I’m sorry,” he croaks. It’s easier, somehow, than speaking for his master. Lizzie slaps him, hard, across the face. Jimmy winces at the burn of it, but forges on. “To you, Lizzie, and to mama, and to dad—I’m sorry.”
Lizzie freezes, arm once again pressing down on Jimmy’s throat. She stares at him, searching his eyes, even as Jimmy chokes and tries to breathe more shallowly.
“It was an accident,” she murmurs, trance-like. Jimmy nods, but forces out,
“Still—my fault.”
Lizzie opens her mouth, about to say something else, then jerks. Electricity courses through her body, shocking along Jimmy’s skin where they’re touching. Her mouth goes slack and eyes go wide with pain, then there are rough hands pulling her off and forcing Jimmy to his feet. He stumbles a bit, finds his footing, lets the guards drag him back to the ballroom.
Xornoth is watching from the other side of the room, and on the ground, Xornoth’s boot pushing into his chest, is Major.
Evidence of a fierce (if short) battle surrounds them, spikes of ice and splatters of red everywhere. Major is in rough shape—blood drips out from under his mask, his supersuit is torn in several places, his eyes are hazy and his breaths coming fast. He pushes futilely against Xornoth’s boot, but his hands fall back to his side after just a moment, worn out.
“Pet,” Xornoth commands, their voice echoing across the room. “Your opponent got the better of you, is that so? Were you not meant to keep her distracted?”
Jimmy bows his head, heart leaping in fear. He’s ready to accept his punishment. He was bad, he messed up, he needs to be corrected.
He hears the smile in his master’s voice when they say their next words. “Before your punishment: an example, for my dear brother, of what happens to those who oppose me. Pet—kill her.”
-
The fight is quick and bloody and wordless, despite Xornoth’s words of business to take care of. It happens so suddenly that Scott quickly becomes convinced that for all these years that they’ve been engaged in a rivalry, Xornoth has been pulling their punches. Before he knows it, he’s on the ground, breath whistling through his broken nose, trying and failing to roll out from under the boot pressed into his chest.
When Xornoth commands Solidarity to kill, Scott can’t bear to watch, but can’t tear his eyes away. He hasn’t known Lizzie for long, but long enough that he doesn’t want to see her dead.
He wonders, briefly, if Joel’s okay. What will become of him if Lizzie dies here.
The two guards shove Lizzie away from them, leaving her shaking like a newborn foal trying to stand for the first time while the forest burns around her.
Solidarity tackles her to the ground without a moment’s hesitation.
Scott chokes back a cry—somebody’s going to die here, there’s no stopping it—he’s alone and his body aches and Solidarity is going to kill Lizzie or she’s going to kill him—but—she isn’t fighting back. Lizzie isn’t fighting back.
Lizzie’s awake, she has to be awake, but she doesn’t move to defend herself, even as Solidarity slams his fist into her face again and again, even as he lifts her up by her hair and slams her back into the ground.
He wraps his hands around her neck, and Scott wants to close his eyes because he can’t watch, poor Lizzie, poor Joel, poor Solidarity, everything’s gone wrong just as he knew it would, and now that Xornoth has him they won’t ever let him go—
Solidarity freezes. Xornoth hasn’t told him to—Xornoth has done nothing to stop him, which doesn’t make sense—if he squints—blinks away the haze in his vision—
Lizzie’s saying something. So quiet that Scott can’t hear it, but she’s definitely speaking. Whatever she says, it makes Solidarity release her and stagger back, away from her. He looks down—at his hands, at the blood spattered across his knuckles.
“Kill her,” Xornoth repeats, snapping their fingers for emphasis.
Solidarity looks up at them, then to Lizzie, prone on the ground, then back to Xornoth. He raises an arm after a moment, hesitantly points at Lizzie.
Xornoth scoffs. “Yes, you idiot,” they say. “You already started the job. Kill her.”
Solidarity’s arm, still outstretched, wavers. He remains, stockstill, in the middle of everything.
Xornoth is about to speak again when Solidarity lets his arm fall.
“No.”
The word is broken, hoarse, barely audible, but it falls from Solidarity’s lips as clear as anything. Scott doesn’t know what to think. Is he breaking free of whatever mind control Xornoth has him under?
The boot presses harder against Scott’s chest and he chokes, all thoughts flying from his mind—he can actually feel his ribs bend under the pressure, that can’t be good—
When Xornoth speaks again, their voice is low, serious.
“What did you say to me, pet?”
Solidarity flinches, but his next words are stronger, louder. “That’s my sister.”
Scott blinks. She—what?
“Pet—”
“That's my sister,” Solidarity repeats, voice shaking as he takes a tentative step forward. “I’m not going to kill her. I’m not. You can’t make me.”
“Oh, can’t I?” Xornoth says, their voice shaking as well—but theirs is barely repressed rage, rather than the fear that colors Solidarity’s. “Kill her now, or spend a week in the cage.”
Solidarity’s eyes flick to the side, to a sheet-covered rectangle up on the dais, but instead of acquiescing to Xornoth’s command, a horrible, unsmiling laugh tears from his throat.
“The cage,” he spits, taking another step forward, then another. “You made me into exactly what you said, you know that? I’m just a mutt, a mutt that whines for your forgiveness—” his voice is frantic and fast and rising with every word, his eyes wild, the air is veritably crackling around Solidarity and Scott’s breath is stolen from his chest as all he can muster is fear— “you took everything from me to turn me into your loyal pet—my voice, my face—do you want my name, master? Or is pet my name now, no more Jimmy, nothing but your little bird—”
“Pet—”
“You took everything from me!” Solidarity screams, and Xornoth—Xornoth flinches. “I had nothing and you took that too, and now you want my sister and you can’t have her!”
Tentacles whip up from the floor, reaching for Solidarity, but they shrivel before they can touch him as he keeps stalking forward. The lackeys who are still in the room double over, clutching at their heads. Scott can hardly breathe, can barely feel anything but Solidarity’s utter rage.
Solidarity is close now, mere feet from Xornoth and blearily—the pressure on his chest increasing with each passing moment—Scott realizes that they’re the same height.
“You made me like this, master,” Solidarity mocks, one hand raised. “You broke me! You know what happens when you beat a dog past its breaking point? It bites.”
Solidarity hurls forward, but before he can collide with Xornoth, the villain collapses, falling forward and off of Scott.
Scott rolls to the side, coughs and coughs as he gasps for air, each cough sending throbbing pulses through his broken nose. He hadn’t—what?—nothing today has gone the way he’d expected.
He catches his breath, pinches his nose, spits up a little blood that had dripped down the back of his throat. He can call an ambulance, probably should . . . his nose has been broken too many times to count, he needs to get it set and preferably professionally or else it’ll heal crooked—
What on earth is he doing? Solidarity is right here, Xornoth is right here—the fight is still going on, he can’t just check out like this—
He looks up, head sending a fierce burst of pain coursing through it at the movement. Sure enough, Xornoth is right beside him—on the ground, limp, eyes closed. Solidarity is kneeling beside them, masked expression unreadable, two fingers pressed to Xornoth’s neck, waiting . . . waiting. . . .
It’s still a fight. He still has to be ready to take Xornoth down at any moment. So, instead of resting his head back and closing his eyes and just breathing like he wants to, Scott sits up, body protesting, and crawls on his hands and knees to be at Solidarity’s side.
He reaches around him, takes one of Xornoth’s wrists in his hand and tugs up the sleeve, presses two of his fingers to it—Now that he’s looking, though, he knows. Their body is too still, eyes shut too loose. He isn’t going to find a pulse.
Xornoth has dropped dead.
The thugs are gone. Lizzie, somehow, is standing, leaning against the wall.
It’s quiet.
Scott releases Xornoth, watches their arm flop back to their body. Solidarity doesn’t move.
Xornoth is dead. They’re really, truly dead.
Scott makes a mental note to schedule a therapy appointment as soon as he can. He’s going to need it after this.
It takes him a long moment (and almost all of his strength) to gather himself to rise to his feet, but Scott does it, placing a light hand on Solidarity’s shoulder.
“They’re dead,” he murmurs, tugging gently when Solidarity doesn’t react. He doesn’t know how, but Xornoth is spontaneously dead. “It's okay. You’re free.”
He’s not sure what he expects Solidarity to do, how he expects him to react. He does not expect Solidarity to scream, to beat on Xornoth’s chest, to shove Scott away.
“No!” the man shrieks, and after a frantic moment of what may be CPR and may be simply attacking the body, he looks up at Scott, eyes bloodshot and wild. “They weren’t supposed to—it was supposed to hurt! It was—it was supposed to be long! I wanted to kill them and make them feel every bit of pain I did—”
Solidarity’s body trembles as he tears at Xornoth, as if trying to force them to wake. A literal bolt of lightning flies off his suit, one that Scott dodges narrowly.
“Wake up,” Solidarity sobs, lifting Xornoth by the shoulders and shaking them before dropping them back to the floor. “Please. Please, master, don’t leave . . . please. . . .”
Scott can’t do anything. He doesn’t even have a clue as to what might be okay for him to do. The sight before him is so disturbing that he just wants to turn away, leave it and help Lizzie to stand on her own and find Joel and pretend that none of this had ever happened.
He can’t do that, though. He owes this to Solidarity.
So Scott stays. He can’t do anything, can’t touch Solidarity, can’t hold him. Nothing that he says calms him, his cries echoing around the now-silent room.
So he sits with him and waits, waits while an exhausted Joel stumbles in and agrees to contact law enforcement and call several ambulances. Waits while officers arrive and take Graceffa into custody. Waits while Solidarity rocks back and forth beside Xornoth’s body, gloved hands frantically pulling at his own hair.
Scott sits there, providing what silent comfort he can, until an EMT wipes a patch of Solidarity’s neck with antiseptic and gently presses down the plunger of a vial of something. Solidarity goes limp quickly, and they carry him off on a stretcher.
“Make sure the Canary gets help,” Scott mumbles as the same EMT helps him stand. “He was under some kind of mind control. Nothing was his fault.”
“It’ll all be sorted,” the EMT tells him, and Scott casts one last glance at Xornoth (and whatever they are to him) before he lets himself be helped out of the building.
#empires smp#esmp#mcyt#jimmy solidarity#scott smajor#empires superpowers au#esh au#mas writes#chapter count on ao3 has been updated!#if all goes to plan - which it may not - this is the penultimate chapter#ok you guys have full permission to scream at me now#ik that i don't usually respond to comments on tumblr#but i do see them and freak out abt them#anybody want a secret about this chapter?? yes???#i had jimmy resist xornoth telling him to kill lizzie the first time#it took until today to change that#take votes: what happens to jimmy from here on out?#anyways lmk what you think!#love you guys
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Hi, I recently followed like in the last week or smth.
I wanted to comment on that post that you just made-- I'm sorry people aren't spending there energy in more constructive manners and that you had that garbage in your inbox.
I understand why comments would be restricted.
I gotta say, I truly love your art. I've been on/off tumblr for years (diff accts over time) and your art & reblogs are legit a big reason why I check my dash daily. (Even if I've been lurking more than interacting rn)
ik we don't know each other, but SasuNaru (whichever order it is, i tbh dont get the variation.. ;u; ) was my very first ship so long ago. Given my early life their relationship (fanon/canon) gave me hope and helped me push through and ultimately heal some abandonment wounds.
These two have been thru hell and back and give me the audacity to believe I and my loved ones can make it back too.
That all being said, Ik it is easier to say "don't let them get under your skin" and all, and that you didn't talk about quitting. But I hope you don't.
You're wildly talented. Thank you for sharing what you choose to.
Hi~ @theskinofawriterbella ! Ah dw, it’s usually easy to ignore certain asks and I mostly do, but sometimes I feel like responding when it’s part of a bigger thing/issue. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if I stopped doing what I do, especially because other people say I should… I’m ultimately doing this because I love creating. (Oh yes, the comments are restricted! I forgot about that, but it should be temporarily! ^^)
And whoaaa really!?! That is so kind of you, thank you so much ;-;💕!!!
I’m sorry to hear you’ve being going through bad times, though I’m very happy that you were able to connect with something and find hope/strength that way. I’d wish’ that for anyone. Naruto’ truly is such a story, don’t you think? As idealistic and flawed (through demographic limitation) it may seem now, its messages are inspiring and Kishimoto truly has a gift that lets you connect with the characters on an emotional level. Especially Naruto and Sasuke and their bond, naturally.
Ahhh I completely missed those glory SNS days. I hear about them frequently from my friend in Japan. Unfortunately I’m a bit late with being an SNS-fan xD and I couldn’t watch everything the first time, but I did see a few episodes and I don’t think there was anything else that lifted my spirits like Naruto’s attitude had. I had my books and my movies which always helped me escape, but I think I could write my own book about all the times Naruto inspired some action I took, because I too grew up in a village that absolutely hated me. Not for the same reason of course, lol, I was just a weird outsider and all, but I did think “well, if Naruto can smile through his pain and still go after his dream then I can as well.” A bit optimistic I’d say, but still. I have no idea what you went through, but on some level I’m sure, I can relate to what you say. I understand.
Thank you for sharing this with me and taking your time to write and send it 🥰 I really appreciate it ^^!
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i mean... preaching consent and reblogging noncon on the same blog isnt hypocrisy. its engaging in a kink that makes you personally uncomfortable. just bc something crosses your personal boundaries doesnt make it immoral. ik you were responding to hate but like. idk. i was hoping i wouldnt come onto tumblr to see my own kinks portrayed like they make me a bad person. or like practicing them consensually is hypocrisy and not, yknow, practicing kink in a safe, healthy, risk aware and consensual manner.
you were sent hate by someone who is going to hate you for having kinks no matter what they are. you don't have to shit on other ppls to respond to that. some of us are using it to cope with past sexual assault. we're not hypocrites and we're not predators.
hey, i take your point that it was tactless of me to discuss cnc w/o explaining my views
to be clear, my comment about the hypocrisy of cnc blogs was specifically aimed at hardcore r*peplay blogs. as someone who used to sh and looked at sh blogs (the kind that romanticise it), ig my opinions on one have influenced the other - although those blogs wld say that they didn't condone / support sh, they still enabled it by fostering a sense of community and acceptance around that was rlly harmful to a lot of ppl, myself included, and rlly warped my perception of it and how ppl saw it. there's obviously debate to be had abt whether ppl ever have an obligation not to post content bc said content is going to have negative consequences, but my stance is that ye, it's hypocritical to make content which could contribute to harmful behaviuor (r*pe, sh) even if you yourself don't support that behaviour.
at the same time i recognise that there's a lot of 'softer' cnc focusing more on carrying out fantasies with partners etc. i don't rlly know how to feel about that and i wldn't be surprised if it was a valid way to work thru trauma etc (similarly, i wldn't be surprised if it was usually more harmful than not). i don't want to see that content or have it on my blog but i don't feel like i know enough abt it to have a fully formed opinion on the morals of it
#rape#self harm#rape tw#self harm tw#sh#lmk if u need this tagged more specifically#also it's not that important but just to be clear - just bc i think smthn is a Bad Thing doesn't mean i think it makes u a bad person#ppl are complicated and ive done my fair share of Bad Things and yknow we live and we learn and shit's messy#not gna address that in the actual post bc ur point still stands ofc but i just wanna say that#while the above are my opinions on the phenomena of these blogs and how i feel abt it im not necessarily making absolute judgements on#ppl that run them#also @the other anon that sent a similar shorter ask#im not gna answer it bc i would just end up restating the things i say here. im not ignoring you but this is how i feel.#flusterasks
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I don't agree with you getting sui bait or whatever because I'm just pulling myself back up AGAIN out of having pretty weird thoughts after being retraumatized from a fairly recent assault but I think maybe you should not joke about incest randomly on your public Tumblr blog because it gets you targeted. I understand that you don't wanna have those thoughts and that they cause you distress but you're putting that shit out there and you probably already know that people shoot as soon as they see it. Stop setting yourself up like that it's a sneaky form of self harm.
idk how to respond to this... but uh i hope you are taking care, please do, I'm really sorry that happened... fuck that really fucking sucks. uh i feel like I should mention that my thoughts don't root from that place tho, and idk I dont think i have any trauma. and I uh wasn't referring to the drama around the incest joke when I made the post about hypersexual thoughts. that incest joke is just my bad weird humor where i phrase stuff like that bc I find it funny. m probably gonna keep making jokes like these tho, I find them amusing, when random people don't misunderstand me and I'm usually okay doing that. idk if it's self harm tho, i dont think it is, I make those jokes everywhere amoung my friends irl who don't attack me for it. I am just impulsive and weird I guess. also uh if this ask is about how I shouldn't joke about incest cause "joking about issues like these is morally incorrect", then uh I don't agree, sorry. ik it's unreasonable but this is just a silly little blog I met some nice mutuals at and I talk to myself on and have them comment... ik it's technically public but m a smallass dead blog idt anyone should care. I dont think I have to be morally correct, which in itself is so subjective and ambiguous, on this stupid lil blog, I show my activism where I think it's of use... as long as I have made it clear that I personally do believe that incest is not good, and I'm not influencing someone in the wrong direction, I think I'm okay. have some water when u see this ⚘
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hi, sorry if this question bothers u but i want to genuinely ask bcs it’s been bothering me a lot. If u remember i posted about the misinformation on the saiki k fandom and when i saw ur repost and account i noticed that ur ace, so i want to ask u something.
The time when i posted the post i was only got 1-2 post/video on tiktok about ppl misinformating on their video or comments, But! now even tho its rare a saiki content on my fyp but almost evry time there is one the bideo pr the comment will be flooded with misinformation especially around ppl saying saiki aroace canon. i also see it on twitter or tumbkr on those “ur (character name) is canonly aro/ace”. And i Hate when ppl give misinformation to other ppl so i want to ask u, is it wrong to comment/reply “he’s not canonly ace/aro” or something like that to ppl comment saying saiki is canon ace/aro??
Bcs i dont want to hurt the aro/ace community with my words if i say that, or being seen as ‘ruining the fun’ bcs ik sometimes the ppl who says saiki is canon ace/aro is usually also ace/aro, and i dont want to hurt them. Sorry again for asking u this
Your question is no problem for me! Sorry if you had to wait for my response.
“I dont want to hurt the aro/ace community with my words if i say that, or being seen as ‘ruining the fun’ bcs ik sometimes the ppl who says saiki is canon ace/aro is usually also ace/aro, and i dont want to hurt them.”
I might not be able to speak for everyone in the aroace community, but I'll answer this how I would like to be responded to as an aroace person.
In my opinion if someone is just wanting some representation and it makes them feel good, the better move might be to take a step back and let them have it, because chances are they're not taking it that seriously. For example, I liked this one blog that was like "_insert character_ has ADHD is canon!" (but it wasn't canon) I didn't actually believe it was true, I just really liked the rep because I don't get it often.
It hasn’t been confirmed that Saiki is aroace, but it also hasn’t been confirmed that he isn’t aroace. Commenting “he’s not canonly ace/aro,” while true is very blunt and might seem like you’re shutting them down, even if that’s not what you mean to do. If you don’t want to be misunderstood, it could be better for you to ignore it or at least make sure your comment can't be taken the wrong way.
"Saiki can be aroace but I don't think it's been confirmed" or maybe even nicer because communication through text can be read negatively lol. If you're reacting to a creator's content I would suggest telling them what you liked about their work, offering constructive criticism, or not commenting at all. But again thats my opinion.
If you want to comment, I would just say to make sure the message you put out is respectful, and remember that sometimes commenting isn’t necessary anyway. Even if it would be false and can get annoying for someone to claim Saiki is canonically aroace, sometimes it’s not worth your energy or time to correct people because that would be a lot of people. People are going to have their own interpretations of the show regardless of whatever is canonically confirmed. Some people are open to debate, but you’re bound to find someone you disagree with so try not to let it get to you. Remember it’s a show that you enjoy so don’t let something minor ruin the fandom for you. What I like about the Saiki k fandom on tumblr and on AO3 is that there's a reallly wide variety of people with their hcs, and only the occasional bitter post about how Saiki should only be aroace.
I hope I helped somehow!
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hey idk if u hc sam as a trans woman or if that's another blog i'm following but i don't really have a big blog so i have selected you to be my holy mouthpiece so feel honored, i guess. there's not a lot of tma ppl in this fandom like that's just a fact it's mostly cis lesbians, transmascs, and tme nonbinary people or any combination of the aforementioned. and i think it's great to hc sam as a bunch of genders and sexualities but. this is the key thing. sam is originally a cis man in the show with female love interests. many trans people, specifically trans women, find it transphobic to hc a cis man as a trans woman bc, whether or not it is intended, assigns masculinity to trans women or implies that trans women are just feminine men. not that it's wrong for trans women to be masculine, it's just. i'm not wording this correctly. the same goes for genderbending, it implies female is the opposite of male and ignores all the other genders. i can't say whether or not this is a huge issue bc i'm tme but i want transfems to feel safe in this fandom
i'd like a response if that's alright with u. i know it's A Lot to respond to. again, i'm not sure if it was u or a mutual of yours but i've just seen a lot of trans girl sam posting and calling saileen lesbians in general. for the record, i don't think sam is cishet and i don't think its wrong for ppl to project hcs of their identities on characters but the amount of tme ppl i've seen do this to sam in particular just bothers me
im going to group your asks!
okay so i think i understand what you mean and i think this interview with jen richards (a trans actress) words what you’re trying to say about associating cis men with trans women and why that’s transmisogynistic. i agree that it’s problematic to associate cis men with trans women and there needs to be more awareness of the transphobia embedded in that, especially when people are headcanoning a character that is canonically a cis man and played by a man as a woman or a lesbian. from what i’ve seen, though, a lot of the people who do primarily headcanon sam as transfem/a lesbian are very much thinking of her as a trans woman/lesbian and don’t associate her with canon sam gender/sexuality wise. im also tme so im not really in a position to say if this is okay or not, but i don’t think they’re doing it in bad faith and i also think it’s important that we seriously discuss the harm these headcanons might be doing. it’s obviously not very possible to have a sam stan tumblr wide discussion, but if anyone wants to reply/reblog with a comment/anything else, please feel free to do so.
i do think people need to be careful when discussing experiences that aren’t their own in order to be considerate to the people those experiences belong to, especially when you’re talking about an oppressed group and, like you pointed out, most of the people in the fandom are tme so when we talk abt trans women or transfem headcanons we need to understand that we are speaking as outsiders, even if we’re not cis.
i think in the last few months a lot of people in the spn fandom started to discuss gender in a very flexible way (which is also where you get the jender stuff and the “your [x] is gnc af” posts) and so that led to a lot of new interpretations of the characters, especially in regards to their genders and analyzing them through a lens that forced them outside of where they exist as cis in canon (like all the posts abt how gender troubles was required reading for spn).
i can’t speak for every sam stan but ik when i first got back into the fandom last year, the primary camps i saw for sam’s gender/sexuality were lesbian (usually in the context of samruby) or cishet and i, personally, as a lesbian sam stan, preferred lesbian sam hcs so that was the primary stuff i engaged with outside of what i posted. also the posts abt sam being all of the letters in lgbt really became a part of sam stans’ engagement with sam’s gender/sexuality, which led to more lesbian hcs and a lot of interpretations of trans as transfem.
and the lgbt all at once thing is part of the reason it happens with sam most often out of the spn characters, bc from my experience a lot of dean/cas (as individuals and a ship) stans view their being masc/men as an important part of their characters and relationship so trans headcanons tend to lean in that direction rather than transfem.
im genuinely not sure if it was me or not, my primary gender/sexuality headcanon for sam is nonbinary bisexual, but i’ve reblogged transfem and lesbian sam stuff and ik i’ve called sam my wife and stuff like that, so you might be right that it was me.
#transphobia tw#transmisogyny tw#i think i said everything i wanted to say and hopefully i worded it okay#anonymous#ask
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