Petition for fandom to start using the term “squick/squicky” again

lemonsharks:

peroxidepirate:

captainofthenx02:

This loosely translates as “there is no fundamental problem with this and I have no issue with the people who enjoy it but it makes me personally deeply uncomfortable

“It’s not a trigger so I don’t want to appropriate that terminology; but I really don’t like it and don’t want to read/see/hear it.”  

“it will not give me psychological distress but HOT DAMN I will die happy if I never see it again”

Doing my part as a member of fandom and spreading this. It really is a good term to use.

For example, I’m “squicked” by adultery. I legit cannot read a fic that has it no matter how well written or how much I love the pairing (it’s why I’m always so angry when people conflate polyamory and adultery. NO THEY ARE NOT THE SAME THING AND I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL)! If I click on a fic that didn’t have tags for adultery and I accidentally stumble into it, I’ll just back button out of there.

I do have personal reasons for thinking adultery is “squicky” beyond the basic moral issues behind it (*sigh* family, what can you do?) but it doesn’t cause me any more emotional turmoil than being aggravated that I wasted however long I read the fic for (and internally muttering that my faves would never). Then I just ignore it and move on. It doesn’t push me into a panic attack, it doesn’t bring up horrible memories or bile, I just don’t like it.

squick = I don’t really like peanut butter so I don’t have peanut butter in my house but if other people want to slather themselves in peanut butter and dance around their front yards then cool, okaaaaaay, whatever?

trigger = I’m allergic to peanuts. If you slather yourself in peanut butter do not touch me because I will break out into hives. If you have made cookies, please tell me if there’s peanut butter in this because if I eat it and there is then I will have an allergic reaction and it will mess up my entire day/week/insert period of time here

Word Prompts (T38): Trigger

It’s the strange echo of silence in your ears, not quite sensation but not all imaginary, which brings you back to reality. Without sound, almost any situation could be considered peaceful, and yet. You are surrounded by broken things:

The shattered, splintered pieces of tables and bookshelves, chairs upended here and there. Torn up books, their pages littering the floor like flower petals thrown by little girls during a wedding. Unsurprisingly, dust is heavy in the air, catching the light from the sunbeams angling through the windows.

There is blood. There are bodies around you, unmoving. Unconscious? But that odd not-ringing in your ears persists, and you cannot tell without drawing closer.

You ache, but it is a dull and consistent ache, the kind you’ve gotten after staying in an awkward position for hours. Or strenuous activity. It is not at the level you would categorize as pain, but it concerns you.

Your clothes are rumpled and stained, but you haven’t had the chance to do laundry for two weeks. It does not inform you of anything more than the fact that this is a particularly busy and stressful week for you. It does not tell you if that stain is from coffee or from the growing pools on the tile that you are intently trying to ignore.

The library is silent; but libraries should be silent. It takes a while for you to realize that you can hear again. There is no more rushing blood in your ears, no more cavernous, thunderous inhales. There is only the slight rustle of your filthy clothing as your arms move against your ribs.

You spot your backpack in the lee created by a tipped over table and a denuded bookshelf. Someone’s arm is stretching towards it; you are careful to step over it, but otherwise pay it no mind as you retrieve your bag and make your way to the exit.

You have a final to take in thirty minutes.

~
A/N: I DON’T KNOW. This doesn’t even have the freaking word in it! Agh. Anyway, I hope everyone’s finals/midterms are going well?