dash it all, Arc..

[slumber]

I know not a lot of you read this, so:

‘I just...dash it all, Arc, I’ve just been feeling that everything is pointless. All this. Fandom. Why do we do it?’

[sic]

‘Good,’ Arc said. ‘Have you all read the Velveteen Rabbit?’ We all admitted we had. I fervently hoped no one was saving a transcript of this chat. Soppiness looks awful in the cold light of day.

‘Then you all remember the bit about the toys who don’t usually become real,’ Arc went on. I didn’t, actually, until she started listing them; I’d forgotten there were any toys that didn’t make it to real. ‘The ones that break easily, Warr1or; the ones with sharp edges, Mina; the ones, BalletChic, who have to be carefully kept.’

I was holding my breath, and I rather suspected the others were, too. My eyes, I don’t mind admitting, had filled up a bit.

‘That’s why we're here,’ Arc said patiently. ‘To wear off the sharp edges, and repair the breaks, and to keep each other. Here we all are, the staid and the hysterical, the sound and the silly, and it’s almost irrelevant how well we’re getting along at any particular moment: all fans belong in fandom, and we’re all becoming real.’

From Mina de Malfois and the Seasonal Goodwill

For the staid and the hysterical, the sound and the silly, who've worn off my sharp edges, repaired what's broken, and kept me, you have all become real. Have a joyous holiday, wherever you are. ♥♥♥