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the-real-page-turner · 1 month

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Introduction - Sisters (Chapter 0)

I love trains.

I don’t know every detail about them, but I know quite a bit. The coaches we were in were blue with a white lining. We were hauled by a small 0-4-4 locomotive. The coaches had an open interior; however, they were empty apart from me and my traveling companion.

Lila Blossom was my metaphorical sister. We are nothing alike physically. I have a dull gray coat, while she has a shining white coat, which is noticeably better taken care of than mine. I have messy, monotone purple hair, while she has two-toned pink waves in long, neat hair. I was taller and fatter, while she was almost unhealthily thin and short.

She looked up from her romance novel with her ever-so-funny resting bitch face and asked, “Why are you studying me?” She asked in a neutral, non-judgmental tone. I zoned back into the world of the living and adjusted my glasses with my wing. Yet another difference in us as she held her book in her unicorn magic. “I was trying to describe us as if this were on the first page of a book,” I said, leaning back into my seat. “I failed.”

I let a long, dramatic sigh escape my lips as I flopped my head onto the table between us.

She gently patted the top of my head with a hoof. “How did you fail the description? We aren't doing anything special.”

Her voice remained flat and level. Most found her tone and demeanor intimidating, including me for a time. However, after years of friendship, I learned Lila’s patterns and found her tone endearing, and when it drops to wild and free spirited in private, it is also quite a treat.

“My description felt overly wordy, but I can’t find a way to make it less wordy,” I said defeatedly. “Wording is very hard, one of the reasons F.T.O.L. hasn't had any new chapters.”

Thinking about my own book, as much as I love my creation, my stomach churns. Fresh Take on Life is my own adventure novel, about a prim and proper pegasus who just can't do things right.

I now sat up and looked at Lila. “Let’s hope a new home will help my creative process as well as your aspiration for mammalian medicine," I said, grinning at my own large vocabulary.

Lila let out a stressed sigh. “I am just hoping the program is good; the move has been expensive for mother and father. They could only afford to send me, so I don't even have them for support.”

I felt sorry for my friend; she’s had aspirations for veterinarian work for years but has recently lost her passion for such work. She said it was just a lack of viable methods of practice. Luckily for her, I found an advertisement for “Ponyville Animal Sanctuary.” With her having an actual means to her end and the funding of her parents, I offered to move with her, and now we are here, on a train to our new lives.

I had wanted to leave Manehattan for a few months now, and I am just glad I had someone to come with me.

Back to the matter at hoof: “I know you can do it, Lila; you are a tough bitch.” I stood up in the aisle of the carriage for dramatic effect and said, “You and I have conquered many things in the past. Trails, tribulations, temptations, and trickeries—we conquered them all.”

My antics earned a small smile from Lila as she looked thankful that the carriage was empty.

“Cast forth from the shackles of our home; we shall prosper in our new lives!” I was now yelling in a deep, dramatic masculine voice. I was using being trans for dramatic effect;this is one of the few times I don't get voice dysphoria. I tried to jump onto a table to continue my ramblings, but something caught my purple Starry Night-themed dress, and I ended up hitting the side of the table and tasting the dirty carpet on the coach floor.

Lila started laughing at me while picking me up with her magic. “Page, I don't want to take you to the hospital already.”

As she set me down, that name made me grin. Page Turner, It was new and flashy, a name I chose to go alongside my new pronouns. Lila has been with me through my gender transition from the start, and I owe her a lot of my gender euphoria. As well as most of my gender envy. The night sky-themed dress that I wear was picked out by her during a trip to Canterlot.

“I am too amazing to be hospitalized, so I'll concede,” I said with more mock egotism. “Don’t do that; you're already conceded enough,” Lila said, returning to her novel.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The ride continued in silence for a while longer. I was losing myself in thought when Lila spoke up, “Page, are you doing alright?”

The question caught me off guard: “What do you mean?” I asked back, and I have been fine. I am usually fine.

"Page, you were so quick to leave home; are you still?” She paused and rerouted her sentence. “Are you thinking this through?”

That's an odd thing to ask someone, “Really showing your faith in me now; of course I thought about this.” I had thought about it; I just needed a day to decide to move away. I just think fast.

“I am not doubting you; I just want to make sure you are for sure. I love you.” She said, looking at me with what I assume to be concern or pity in her eyes.

“I love you, too. Sorry for getting defensive,” I said, looking at the rolling midlands of Equestria.

To outsiders, the three words ‘I love you’ may seem odd, but it's a platonic saying between us. The words have been so romanticized that we sometimes forget platonic love, so we say them to remind ourselves that we are not alone.

“The train should be reaching Ponyville soon; are you nervous?” I asked, looking back at Lila, who was putting her book away.

“Very much so; I have to meet Fluttershy by noon, half an hour after arrival.” Lila’s voice cracked slightly from its normal monotone to a more worried sound. Her face mirrored her voice.

“I’ll go with you! Hype you up, or just be emotional support. After that, we go celebrate at a bakery or something of the sort,” I said to Lila, feeling the train slow beneath me.

Looking out the window, I could see the thatched roofs of Ponvillle, along with many more odd buildings. The crystal castle stands out as the most out of place.

We stood as the train stopped at the station and the guard walked through, collecting our tickets.

I looked at my sister, one of spirit and not blood, and said with a grin, “Ready for a new normal?”

#mlp #fanfic #mlp fim #mlp friendship is magic #mlp g4 #mlp oc #my little pony #fan fiction #fan fic writing

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firecrackerhh · 11 months

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LMFAO dude what the fuck are you talking about? I’ve only had a tumblr account for like, what, 2 and a half years? Yeah I’ve made rants about antis and criticals before but I wasn’t even talking about you or anyone else specifically for that matter in any of those. I did not have specific usernames, I didn’t fucking put anyone else’s icon on my blog up until now. I haven’t accused you of being racist, a fucking Republican, any other negative bullshit you claim about me, I don’t fucking go after anyone specific in general! I only have 45 followers! I couldn’t fucking harass ANYONE even if I wanted to! I might think you’re a pain in the ass, but you aren’t worth going after!

Well…until you fucked up and started talking shit about me.

You brought this on yourself.

If there is one thing I hate more than anything it’s being a disingenuous little liar.

Fine, I said the word retarded, the horror, the agony! Funny tho how you have no problem with the word troglodyte, but you probably don’t know what that word means. However much I wish I could say I’m sorry for saying all that, I’m very much not. If anyone in the hazbin fandom follows me and is deeply upset by my lack of apology on the subject, you are welcome to unfollow me, we would not have gotten along anyway.

The only crime I’ve accused you and your ilk of is being a whiny fucking pissbaby who clearly does not understand the concept of “don’t like, don’t watch” and does NOTHING but BITCH online constantly, probably because you have no other hobbies whatsoever, which is fucking pathetic. Even I’m not that fucking miserable. Your behavior is not proving me wrong.

As if complaining about things you don’t like in a cartoon you don’t have to watch is any more mature than making a post calling you people troglodytes. You are not better than me in any way whatsoever.

If I were half as miserable as you portray yourself online I would actually consider killing myself.

I could genuinely be upset at the obviously fake bullshit you’re spewing about me, but nah, fuck that, you aren’t worth it.

However I do suppose this would be a grand opportunity for me to explain to you in vivid detail why I legit can’t stand you and how unbelievably goddamn stupid I think you are. Why?

Why does anyone do anything?

Also you fucking swung first, I was planning on never speaking about you in public like this, I blocked you for a good reason, but no, you just had to open your big stupid mouth. Sure I would see you complain about this or that, that’s fine. But now you made shit personal. I’m finishing this fight and you aren’t coming out of this unscathed.

You’re like a raving schizophrenic on the street that other people avoid, to act like your frankly delusional ramblings are at all an accurate portrayal of who I am as a person even though you have never even talked to me before, not that you could anyway since I blocked you waaaay before you saw that post so I’m not sure how you managed to see it anyway, would be coddling you, yknow, like a baby.

And considering you don’t want people younger than 17 on your blog I was under the assumption you were yknow, an adult. Making callout posts on random nobodies just because they hurt your precious wittle feefees is not mature adult behavior. Don’t claim you have maturity when you obviously never fucking show it. Don’t throw stones when you fucking own a glass house.

I’m not even mature myself, I have never claimed otherwise, but god, I feel like I’ve aged 40 years just looking at your fucking blog, don’t you ever get tired of being such a whiny immature brat? Are you ever satisfied with anything or do you consider whining like a bitch as second nature to you?

Of course, I can’t claim to be any better, I admit, I’m rather wordy when it comes to my posts myself, I have a tendency to get angry at things most people wouldn’t make a big deal of, my mind is going at a thousand miles an hour all the goddamn time and I have a thousand different thoughts about so many things it would make your brain explode.

There is one difference between us however.

I’m not stupid enough to insult specific people directly in public when they haven’t fucking done anything to me.

The post you’re bitching about was very general, I did not mention you specifically at all.

Wow! You insult me and my alleged lack of emotional intelligence (pot calling the fucking kettle black I see, talk about hypocrisy) so if anything you are no better than me. Can you say one sentence without obviously projecting? Holy shit, look inward, for the love of god.

Maybe I would’ve been kinder to you if you had the proper emotional intelligence to realize that blatantly insulting people is not a way to get them on your good side. Perhaps that sounds hypocritical of me, but it isn’t like I made that post you got all mad at with the intention of making friends out of it. The point was to insult antis and criticals and it did the job. At least I’m honest about the fact I’m a fucking bitch. Unlike yourself.

There is a reason I put my header as ‘Tis I the Werebitch after all. It’s a warning. A warning you have promptly ignored.

I don’t give a fuck how old you actually are, you act like a fucking baby, a spoiled brat in adult online spaces and expect actual adults to fucking coddle you and pretend like your fucking dogshit opinions actually have any fucking merit?

And you think I’m the joke?

Trying to cancel me too? Me? A nobody with not even 50 followers? God, that’s pathetic, if anything, you’re the joke.

No, actually you’re worse! Jokes are meant to be funny! And I’m not laughing anymore. What you are, is obnoxious. I have to wonder if you actually have any IRL and online friends or if your constant whining has driven them all away over the years. Do the other antis and criticals even like you? God knows the fandom doesn’t want you around. Shit, other antis and criticals are tolerable compared to you!

You are no one’s savior. You aren’t helping actual people by bitching about a cartoon that will continue to exist whether you like it or not. Viv, contrary to your positively demented belief, is not the fucking Antichrist, and you sure as fuck aren’t Jesus Christ.

So convinced you’re morally superior to fans of the show because you “gasp” ‘criticize’ it! But not really, you wouldn’t know how to critically analyze something if you took a fucking college course on the subject. You don’t criticize it, you bitch about it. There’s more to critical analysis than saying “yeah this is garbage and if you like it you’re an idiot, or a racist, or a homophobe” Or whatever fucking negative bullshit you spew on a near daily basis.

You never have one positive word to say about the show you allegedly like, much less for the creator herself. No fucking wonder she blocked you on Twitter. You radiate toxic vibes like the Elephant’s foot at Chernobyl and you have the nerve to act offended when people rightfully block you for your immature, self righteous attitude?

You sound fucking delusional, and you’re surprised no one takes you seriously?

You’re not just a clown, you’re the entire fucking circus.

Never mind the fucking bullshit you were spewing at Morgana Ignis, but sadly I can only have 10 pictures in one blog post.

No one in this fandom gives a fuck what you fucking think about anything, much less Viv herself, because you have your head so far up your ass you don’t even fucking realize every word that comes out of your mouth is full of shit!

Just because you hate a stupid fucking cartoon, that doesn’t make you special. The fact I like a stupid fucking cartoon does not make me special. I just like it, and no one’s whining is going to change that.

Cry yourself a river, build a bridge, and get over it.

Cognitive dissonance is an astounding phenomenon. How you continue to exist in such a state has to be confounding to every psychologist in the nation.

The fact you used me as a proxy for your feelings on an entire fandom makes you look really pathetic and frankly I’m convinced you need fucking therapy or something. This shit legit isn’t healthy for you mentally.

You don’t like the fandom? Fine, most fandoms are fucking dumpster fires anyway, but to fucking act like we’re some fucking hive mind and that we all automatically agree with the absolute worst of the fans really shows just how fucking immature you really are. If I really wanted to be a dramatic bitch I could say it amounts to slander.

You know what they say about assumptions don’t you?

You want to know my actual opinions on shit? Fucking ask me directly like a fucking adult. Assuming you’re capable of it. Not this bullshit where you make up my beliefs and then argue with the straw man of me you made up in your head, as if you come up with these posts in the shower.

Tho of course that should be difficult for you, since yknow. I blocked you forever ago. But knowing your obnoxious ass, this’ll find a way to you one way or another.

Get help. Seek therapy. Go outside. Learn a new skill, anything, if only so you aren’t such a miserable fucking person.

If you fucking hate me or whatever, the feeling is fucking mutual. You are legitimately one of the most irritating crybabies I’ve ever had the displeasure of knowing exists.

I’m sure to many that the fact I’m even making this post is evidence I’m just as bad as they are or whatever else, if not worse, all I’m gonna say is be glad I keep most of my thoughts in DM’s. I could be so much worse. I imagine not too many of you have read this far, rather exhausting isn’t it?

Imagine how I felt reading this bitch’s fucking bullshit diatribe against me.

Ps. This bit of advice is worth listening to imo, it may be familiar to you. I suggest you take it Squiddy.

Projection is a bitch isn’t it?

🔥🧨~Firecracker out~🔥🧨

Don’t know about you guys, but man I love me some fried calamari, don’t you?

🦑

🔥

#tis i the werebitch #consider this post also a warning to others #just block them #they’re not the brightest bulb in the package clearly #long post #hazbin hotel #helluva boss #vivziepop #talk shit about the fandom or Viv all you want #you wanna talk shit about ME?#I’m sorry #I’m petty af and I have no respect for this bitch whatsoever #sorry if this is ridiculously long but I have thoughts

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quickspinner · 1 year

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On Commenting

(Don’t worry I’m not here to berate anyone for failing to comment that is so not what this is about)

We were talking about comments in the disco this morning and then I got in the car and drove around doing my errands so now I have Thoughts and, especially given the fics I plan to rain down on Weddnesday, I am going to inflict them on you. I’m only speaking for me here and no one else.

And because I’m a Wordy Bitch (tm) and I haven’t bothered to write an organized point-by-point essay in years and I’m not about to start now, I’m going to put this part up front so you can skip the rest if you don’t vibe with it:

I want you to feel safe to come into my comments however you feel comfortable. Your comment doesn’t have to meet any minimum standard of eloquence or analysis or anything like that. As long as your comment engages with the fic in some way and doesn’t offer nothing but unsolicited criticism, it’s a good comment. That’s it. That’s the standard. And if commenting makes you feel bad, I don’t want you to do it! You have my permission not to comment. Go in peace my friend. Don’t make yourself miserable over something that is supposed to be fun.

I love comments. Love them. I don’t care if you’ve commented before or if you are reading the fic for the 30th time and have already left ten comments--or none! “I’m reading this for the 30th time and I just want to tell you how much I love it even though I’ve never said so before!”

Me: :D :D :D :D

Not me: omg 30 times and they’re only telling me now? I feel so used.

“Man, this person has commented on a lot of my fic lately.”

Me: Someone new! Hi new person! I am totally normal and not tempted to reply with to your comments with 50 other fics you should read! I’m so excited to see what you think!

Not me: omg seriously when will this person shut up

“I love this work but I’m afraid my comment won’t be good enough but if I don’t comment I’m killing fandom and the writers will stop and I’m the worst”

Me: OMG, sweetie it’s okay, you do what you can do, it’s not that deep. l will love any comment you make and if all you can stand to do is leave some emojis I will send you some heart emojis right back. I don’t want you to comment if it makes you feel bad, that’s the opposite of what I’m trying to do here!

Not me: You are the worst. You are the reason fandom is dying. I cannot believe people like you would treat me like some tiktok creator throwing things out there for a few paltry likes

Listen. I love comments. Almost all comments. I can’t in truth say all comments because to be honest it does suck a little bit when somebody comes in the comments to complain about the show without actually saying anything about my fic.

Good: “I love the way you did xyz, I wish the show had done things that way, that would have been so interesting”

Disappointing: “Omg can you believe the writers did that I’m so mad this show sucks and the creators are terrible people and I don’t know how anybody can think otherwise.” Me: “...my fic tho?”

But like. 99% of comments are great comments. I love it when somebody engages with the story and gives me paragraph by paragraph reactions and tells me what lines they liked most, those are all great. I love it when somebody leaves something that just boils down to “HOLY SHIT THAT WAS AWESOME” whether in text or emoji or keysmash. Comments from friends are amazing. Comments from longtime readers are amazing. Comments from people I’ve never heard of or anons? Amazing. There are a very few people who comment so consistently I actively look for their comments to come in and eagerly await them. Amazing.

But my favorite comments? “My day sucked/I’m goding through a hard time/I’m trying to keep my mind off a difficult thing and reading this made me really happy/gave me a smile when I needed it/is my comfort fic.”

Because those are the ones that made me feel like I did something really important. I impacted someone in a meaningful way.

Now, I will be honest, I am a super awkward person and I suck at taking compliments, so responding to comments is kind of erratic for me. I try to do it, but sometimes I just have to hide under my blankets and squeal in embarrassment for a while first. 😆 But just because I don’t answer doesn’t mean I don’t see and appreciate. Comments are amazing.

Okay, now I’m going to get a tiny bit preachy and overly optimistic. Again, I’m just speaking for me and my experiences, but this is the way I tend to look at things.

Here’s the other side of comments though and I mean this kind of as a word of caution for writes and artists as well as a reason why ‘if I don’t comment I’m contributing to the death of fandom’ is semi-bullshit--it is so easy to become jaded over time. First you are excited for every comment, and then you start to convince yourself that certain types of comments “don’t matter.” “Oh, I got ten comments but 5 of them are my discord friends, they’re just commenting because they’re friends.” “Oh, I got comments, but they’re from the same people who always comment. I wish somebody knew would comment. It’s depressing that only the same people are reading my work.” “I got comments but look how many hits/likes/kudos I got and so few of them commented.”

So. Easy. You guys, it is so easy to convince yourself that what you’re getting isn’t enough. So just, watch yourself and stay grateful. Be vigilant against that kind of complacency. And most importantly, write things you love because you love them. At the same time, sometimes you have to be realistic about the size of the potential audience for any given fic. Write it, but remember that not everybody loves what you love, and if you choose to write something that’s a little weird or has a lot of OCs or diverges strongly from accepted canon/fanon, that you’re going to have to find your people, find your audience, before you start seeing those comments come in.

It’s complicated, I get that. We all do want the comments and the validation. We ARE less motivated when no one seems to engage with our work. But I also think that the way to combat that is to a) stay grateful b) build community with other authors/artists/creators who will still be there commenting and cheering us on when the general public seems to have sunk into indifference. Nobody gets it like fellow creatives. Be the change you want to see in the world, and all that. If you feel like commenting is down, it’s probably down for other people too, so maybe go leave a positive comment for someone else.

#quickrambles #a lot #on commenting

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ohallows · 4 years

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Hi this is gonna sound real dumb but when does writing mlm fanfic become fetishisation? I’ve heard the word used a lot but no one ever gives receipts to show what they mean and I get really confused

oh dw this doesn’t sound dumb at all! i’m happy to help explain. first off, here are some helpful twitter threads and articles from people that explain it very well imo:

an incredible thread from a trans guy on twitter about fetishization of mlm (nsfw mentions)

quick, to-the-point description

great article that gets a bit more into the racism and misogyny aspect of exclusively shipping white dudes together and ignoring women

a follow up to the above post

thoughts about the topic from a cishet woman who is also uncomfy

gonna shove my own opinions under the cut:

it is Not My Lane to talk about how mlm (or nonbinary people) view other mlm relationships in media. however! there is a... frankly gross trend in fandom where women (although of course its not only women) will take two men in a piece of media (whether canon or not) and do a couple of... let’s say, worrying things. mostly this comes in the form of:

focusing solely (or predominately) on the sexual nature of their relationship (basically, creating content that they find “hot” and nothing else)

referring to their shipping of the couple as “sinning”

calling themselves “fujoshis” - this is normally something straight girls do tbh

ignoring (canon or otherwise) wlw pairings for their male ship (or straight up being Incredibly Misogynistic and Racist toward female characters - a lot of time this comes across as either erasing female characters in fics or completely changing their personality in order to make them more unlikable)

when canonically gay/bi/pan men are introduced in canon, immediately turning it into something sexual or constantly making sexual references about them even when there is. nothing in the content to suggest that.

erasing a character’s canon asexuality because you want to write loads of porn about them (this is part of a larger discussion about aphobia in fandom and the nuance of sex-positive and sex-neutral and sex-averse aces, which again. i am happy to discuss but will also provide links to people who can speak about it better than i can.)

just... being very stereotypical in general? like. making the smaller/thinner/younger one submissive and “more feminine”, leaning into the idea that gay men are hypersexual, etc.

this isnt specifically fetishization, but there’s this weird trend of sorts where women will be like. super into fucked up power dynamics and age gaps and such between two mlm characters and write loads of noncon porn about them because they find it hot.

i am in no way saying that women can’t write/read fic (even nsfw fic!) about mlm pairings. i do! that would be asinine and hypocritical for me to say. however, as with all media, you need to critically examine what you create and engage with. no media exists in a vacuum and its irresponsible and reductive to say that it does.

tl;dr, if you identify as a woman and literally the Only Media You Care About is about mlm, you need to examine that. additionally, if you identify as a woman and predominately care about the sexual nature of mlm pairings, examine that too. this goes for bi/pan women as well! we are just as capable of being fetishy and weird and creepy as straight women are when it comes to gay men tbh. fic about mlm should not be exclusively written **by and for** women.

anyway, i hope this helps, and please feel free to ask more, or share more resources, or, hell, even correct me! i’m always looking to grow as a person and improve my own understanding of things.

#Anonymous #anyways sorry i meant to keep this short #however i am a wordy bitch #fetishization #hope this helps explain! please let me know if there's more u would like to know abt #noncon mention #uhhh pls lmk if anything else needs to be tagged<3

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fangirleaconmigo · 2 years

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Do you think it's bad for a cis woman to read gay smut fanfictions or the opposite, as it's not really about exploring the reader's own sexuality?

Hi Anon,

I know this question is controversial in fandom, and liking peace and quiet as much as I do (and disliking Discourse as much as I do), it would be much smarter for me to just delete your ask.

However, I have some extremely strong feelings about this, so I’m going to dive in and hope for the best in how it is received. (famous last words) It is going to be long, because I do think it warrants careful thought. The question of shame, fetishization, and homophobia is an important one, so I will address that. This may be a lot more than you wanted, but asking me any questions about morality is going to open up a huge ol can of worms. I am a wordy bitch. So here we go.

Firstly you ask, is it ‘bad’. To explain my own personal system of morality, my measurement for whether something is bad always boils down to, does it hurt people or does it help people? And when the thing we’re judging is a personal action someone has taken, I ask myself, is this person making a choice for themselves (as is their right to do) or are they making a choice for other people?

Obviously this can get very complex. I studied political philosophy in college, so I know that when you are in the fuzzy areas, you can debate these things until the end of time. People are still arguing over moral ideas put forward centuries ago. BUT that is the basis, the starting point for my own system of morals.

So. Does reading fiction in private, or being horny harm others or even affect others? No. Obviously not. Does it help anyone? Yes! It helps the person reading it! People really really really underestimate how much pleasure, a release, a bit of serotonin, can turn your mood and therefore your mental health around. I’m all for profound emotional shit, but let’s not overlook the fundamental role simple things like pleasure, fun, play, and release make in our quality of life and mental health. Eat a cookie! Smell a flower! Laugh! Orgasm! It’s all the good brain chemicals, folks.

That’s even setting aside (for the moment) the more profound ways reading smut can help you with your own trauma, shame, or general desire to explore your sexuality. It’s also even setting aside the way that smut fics often also have strong emotional elements of love, connection, learning to trust, and healing from trauma. I am setting that aside because even though it is true, it is not necessary to my argument.

So, it doesn’t hurt anyone (I will get to the fetishization question, bear with me.) And it is usually great for you. Or not! You’re a human being. You get to decide what is best for you.

Further, asking “should a woman with X gender identity and X sexuality be reading gay smut of two men” requires a few things. It implies that I am going to pass moral judgement on someone for what fiction they read, and base that judgment on their gender identity and sexuality. So, it requires me to know what that gender identity and sexuality is. Then, it requires me to say...you should or should not be reading that.

So my first issue with that is that I always reject efforts to police, restrict, or gatekeep art. Yes, even horny art is art. Even art created to provoke a sexual response, which many people (often very religious people, but also a subset of online fandom activists) consider a “lower” or “base” function of the human experience, IS art. (I don’t believe the human experience can be dissected in that way, but that is neither here nor there.)

Just as importantly, I viscerally recoil from any effort to police people’s gender or sexuality to see if they are allowed to read (or are just shamed for reading) certain material. Just. Whooooeeee, no thank you. Dear god, no.

Setting aside the fact that people’s sexuality and gender evolve, and they may not even know how to label themselves, this mentality, this sort of approach, often requires people to ‘out’ themselves. It demands that they publicly disclose their own sexual and gender identities in order to enjoy fiction in peace. It is, and I cannot stress this enough, toxic, abusive, and always damages queer people far more than anyone else. It is the exact opposite of queer liberation. Please look up Isabel Fall. There is an article on Vox that thoroughly walks you through one example of people shaming someone and demanding their identity, sending a trans woman into the hospital, and back into the closet.

Cishet white men literally do not give a fuck what you think about what they read. It is always and I mean ALWAYS LGBTQ people that suffer under the policing and forced outing of sexuality and gender. It also stinks of fascism.

I hear people saying “we aren’t burning books, it’s not censoring, relax.” What if we aren’t actively restricting material? What if we just judge, stigmatize, and shame in order to bully straight people into changing their reading habits? Isn’t that ok?

And what kind of disaster would we call upon ourselves if we don’t force anyone to out themselves? I mean, if you just ‘let’ lgbtq people do what they want without disclosing, you could get a bunch of straight cis women slipping through! They could just be out there! In their homes! On their devices! Being horny for fun!!!

I’m completely fine with that.

I am aware that the conversation happening in fandom spaces is whether it’s inherently fetishizing for women to think two men together in fiction is hot, and whether the smut is the cause of a tendency to fetishize gay men. Since I care a whole lot about fighting homophobia, I’ll take that seriously and address that.

People always use the example of “but how is this different from men lusting after lesbians? Don’t women hate it when men fetishize lesbians? How is this different?” That is always the question. “What if the genders were reversed?”

So I am going to start there.

As a gay woman, I can tell you, what a man beats it to in private is his business. I could not be less interested in the details of that. It doesn’t affect or harm me. It is literally none of my business.

What harms me is when a man mistreats gay women. When he thinks he can ‘convert’ a woman, says that she hasn’t had the right dick yet, or asks gay women to perform for him.

And I can say with confidence that men reading explicit material about two women has zero to do with this.

(People often bring porn into this, but bringing real human beings performing sex into the equation would require a broader ethical conversation and you asked about smutty fiction, so I’ll keep it focused on that.)

So, to really drive this point home, we need to separate two concepts out.

Sexual attraction vs dehumanization.

Sexual attraction is being hot for someone. It is morally neutral before you have acted on it in a way that involves another human being.

Dehumanization is seeing someone as less than human in some way. Dehumanization is when people believe they have the right to touch, harm, or even kill another person. It makes people believe that another human doesn’t doesn’t need or deserve to decide what happens to their own body. Dehumanizing is how you get young army recruits to kill complete strangers. Dehumanization facilitates bigotry. It shuffles sexual assault under the rug. It devalues life.

Misogyny is a form of dehumanization. It is a form of violence. It is what causes men to feel entitled to demand sexual favors from a woman, and to disregard her sexuality and autonomy. It is not sexual attraction. It is misogyny.

And you do not “get” or “catch” misogyny from smutty fiction.

When men are still boys, before they even pick up a device or a book, they are taught to see women as commodities. They are taught by their parents, their pastors, even CHILDREN’S MEDIA that sexual harassment is comedic, stalking is romantic, and women are prizes to be won. That if they achieve certain milestones required of men, they are entitled to a ‘prize’ of the woman they desire.

Misogyny is systemic. It is everywhere. It’s in the water, the air of our society, no matter where you live. It is global. The thing that makes men walk up to women and demand their bodies is one thing: sheer, mind boggling, entitlement. Audacity. Gall. Fucking nerve. Insidious misogyny.

I know this sounds dramatic to people who don’t experience it. But think about it. Every time someone tells a girl that she is ‘mean’ for not responding to a ‘nice’ guy's advances they are saying...you are a commodity to bestow on someone as a reward. You are not someone who gets to just simply have preferences. That is for ‘real’ human beings. This kind of mentality, in the mind of a violent angry person, is quite literally why men kill women for breaking up with them.

(I know that men, and people of all genders, suffer abuse and violence against them. I am not denying that, I am just having a conversation focused for the moment on violence against women.)

NOW, the constant violence against women in this context (and you may not experience it, but please look at the numbers for rape and domestic violence and other gendered violence) has made people CONFLATE men’s sexual desires with predation.

That is how you get people who profess to be leftists and care about oppressed peoples treating the ENTIRE CONCEPT of men’s attraction to women as predatory and therefore stigmatizing and demonizing the entire concept of sex and men's sexuality. I’ve heard people talk about leftist puritans online and I think a lot of stems from a misguided reaction to a society that allows sexual predation to become rife. No, darlings, no.

The problem isn’t men or their sexuality. The problem is misogyny.

If we are to have even a prayer of a healthy, kind society, we need to separate those two things out. Get a crowbar. Pull them apart. Don’t allow the patriarchy to poison you against something that is an important, fundamental part of who we all are! There is nothing dangerous or shameful or predatory about men being sexually attracted to women.

If men think women are hot as fuck? If they want to read about or think about hot gay ladies together in order to get off? Shit, me too, man!!! ME FREAKING TOO.

We can apply this to the concept of women fetishizing gay men. When we talk about women fetishizing gay men, we are talking about women who ask creepy intrusive questions. Who call gay men demeaning pet names against their wishes. Who touch them without their consent. Who go to gay clubs just to treat it like their own personal entertainment and make everyone feel uncomfortable and on display. These are women who don't give a shit about the personal boundaries or comfort or well being of gay men.

This behavior is revolting. But the root of that behavior isn’t lust. It is homophobia. Homophobia isn’t just ‘I hate gay people’ or ‘I want to beat up gay people’ or ‘I think they shouldn’t get married'. It is also, ‘gay peoples’ sexuality isn’t real or important, and it just exists to entertain me or get me off.’

Again, we are taught homophobia from the cradle in a thousand different insidious ways. People have their homophobia deeply rooted far before they even find out what AO3 is, my friends. Homophobia is a violence. It is evil. It is systemic.

And we cannot combat it without NAMING it. Without UNDERSTANDING IT. Bigotry is baked into our society (whichever one you live in). You have to learn to IDENTIFY IT to COMBAT IT.

And to do that, I am begging people, BEGGING THEM, my god I am on my knees people, (cue Boyz II Men, down on bended knee) to learn the difference between sex and violence. Between attraction and assault. We don’t have a prayer of eliminating bigotry or the shame and stigma around sex until we do that.

Because the stigma and shame we attach to our bodies and to sexual desire (or lack of sexual desire, ace people are valid, all level of sexual desire is valid) are pernicious, violent, and toxic to our self worth and to our very spirits.

This goes back to the question I asked earlier. If we aren’t forced outing people or actively censoring material, isn’t a little shame and bullying ok just to keep the straights on their toes?

It really is not.

Please take it from me, a person with a metric fuckton of experience working through PTSD, depression, anxiety disorder, and dissociative symptoms, most of it due to sexual abuse as a child, that shame about your body and your natural desires (or, again, lack of) is what keeps their boot on your neck. It is what keeps you from healing. It makes you live a half life. It steals joy and health and peace from you. It is the enemy of the human spirit.

My god! There is nothing wrong with experiencing sexual desire for fictional characters or scenarios! There's nothing wrong with being horny in your own house! Lol Just imagine the damage that kind of shame and stigma does to people!

I was raised by fundamentalist Baptist right wingers. They tried to teach me the same thing. That the natural things my body did were shameful and disgusting outside the bounds of a marriage to a Christian man. It turned out all that did was make me a perfect target for predators because no matter what happened I would always feel at fault.

Besides all the abuse, I was also told point blank by my father and my pastors that gay people are all sexual predators, child molesters, and deserve to be executed. You may not see much of this attitude anymore in public spaces like twitter or tumblr. But it is still very very common all over the world. In fact, it is more common than not. And I internalized that to the point that even as a grown woman I am not whole. I still have work to do to get rid of the shame I have around my own sexuality. But I will get there!

And reading sexy fiction online (along with a metric fuckton of therapy, self help books, meditation, several inpatient hospitalizations, and, well, you get the picture, I’ve done a lot of stuff) helped me work through some of the damage that did to me.

So….thanks, sexy fic writers! (I’m going to talk to the sexy fic writers for a second) You cannot know how much you have helped me! Even all the fics that are ‘just’ pwp or ‘just kink’. You cannot know! It has been a process of shedding shame and being able to face up to who I am after having a whole bunch of self loathing dumped into my brain while it was still mushy and forming.

And reading sexy fic that doesn’t contain any representations of my own body has been really, really important to ease into learning to accept myself, because it offers me a space that will not trigger any hatred or shame I have attached to my own body. That is how it has helped me.

But it doesn’t have to ‘help people’. It can just be fun.

So, when women enjoy smut of two men, and people point and say “Look! Look! Those women aren’t gay. They’re just...(gasp, choke) attracted to men!!! And therefore!!! They like two men together!!!” as though it is just a fucking S C A N D A L. I just. It’s hilarious. Most people are horny, and GOD FORBID, some of them like men! (MEN?? NOOOOO, NOT M E N) Let me notify the church real quick. Let me clutch my pearls. Light some flares. Call the red phone. Turn on the bat signal. Help, Batman, help.

So, dear anon, I don’t know why you asked the question. I don’t know whether you believe it is bad, or whether someone has told you it is bad and therefor you feel bad about yourself, but my answer for you and women of any sexual or gender identity who love gay smut, I promise that you are not inherently bad.

Certainly, if people are like ‘I don’t trust women who only ship men’ or if they have critique about the way fics are written, that is their right. You must respect their feelings and their decisions about what they read and who they associate with. They have the right to feel however they want, and read whatever they want. Being a person is complex, and we all have our own perspectives.

But as for you? Being inherently bad? No, no, no.

And as for gay men, I can guarantee you that the absolute last people on planet earth to be horrified by an attraction to men, are gay men.

Just don’t treat real people like they exist to be your little pet or that their queerness exists to fucking entertain or serve you.

Just don’t confuse fiction and reality. That should be easy enough. One is words on a page. The others are living, breathing, human beings.

#ask #fandom #fandom thoughts

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misterewrites · 3 years

Text

Inhuman Interrogation (Welcome to the Underground!)

Hello everyone! E here hoping you are all safe and sound! Here’s the next chapter of the Underground! A special thank you to everyone who reads my stories. I know they’re not everyone’s speed and I get wordy but I really do appreciate it! I really hope you are having some fun with it. Okay stay safe, sound, keep your loved ones safe, wash your hands, wear masks and get yourself vaccinated, push for vaccines worldwide. Here's the next chapter, enjoy! Feel free to leave likes, tell your friends, reblog and leave feedback I love it all! have a good week and I'll see you later! E is out byeeeeee!

If you want an easier way to read my story here’s the newest chapter at ao3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27814297/chapters/79942294

Curious what this about? Here’s the first chapter

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27814297/chapters/68094967

Want an overview of my works, you can find me right over here! Fun fact I do, on a occasion, write stuff for fandoms! Shocking I know :D

https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrE42/pseuds/MrE42

Summary: Oliver's been caught red handed and there's only one thing to do: Claw and lie his way out of the situation. However, the bard might be a little over his head from this stranger who watches all.

-----

Oliver could feel a chill run down his spine, fear gripping him tightly as he scrambled to keep himself calm. Being found out was always a possibility he’d calculated in his plans, he just hadn’t wanted to deal with it tonight. Well you know what they say: When life gives you lemons, squirt lemon juice in life’s eyes and run like hell.

He’d been caught so the next step was to determine by who.

Oliver blew cool air onto his face as he pivoted around to see which person had been acute enough to catch onto his antics.

He had been expected to looking at an unhappy Lea with his sword drawn.

What found waiting for him was worse.

It was good looking man though Oliver couldn’t hazard a guess to his age. His hair was short wispy dark brown like the color of copper. His face was scratched by dozens of tiny whites line, healed scars that somehow did not detract away from his handsomeness. He wore a plain white tunic with black leggings, a large bronze hued cape hung over his unusually thin frame. The most striking feature were his golden eyes. Not golden in shade but actual gold, metallic shimmering and shining like metal caught in the glow of the sun.

He was a sight to behold, perfection made flesh and blessed by the gods.

And Oliver knew he was utterly and terribly inhuman. He was not a mortal being for no human could ever been so perfect.

The Stranger tilted his head quizzically, his eyes dilated into pupil-less orbs.

“You” He spoke in a raspy, low voice “You’ve been busy.”

Oliver coughed, trying to get his dry throat working again.

The Stranger took a step closer, his gaze unflinching “Yes, very busy.”

Oliver chuckled nervously “I haven’t the slightest clue what you mean increasingly creepy man. If you excuse me.”

As Oliver turned to leave, his blood turned cold when the stranger harshly whispered, his words booming in Oliver’s ears.

“How’s Death I wonder? He’s an old friend for you, right?”

Oliver whirled around, fist clenched but the Stranger hadn’t taken a step forward. In fact he had taken a step away, furthering the distance between them.

Oliver gulped nervously, trying his best to stop his racing heart.

“And you” he murmured quietly, trying to hold onto his fleeting courage “Smell of it.”

It was true: Even this far away, Oliver could smell the stench of decay, of death and blood wafting off the Stranger as if he’d come straight from a bloody battle.

The Stranger made no indication he heard Oliver’s comment, just stared with golden eyes unblinking.

Oliver let out a tense breath before closing his eyes. He centered his will, he reached out into the universe and drew in the power of his magic.

He could hear the scrawling of a pen across the scratchy surface of parchment, the squishy wet sounds of paint drying, the tuning of a lute among excited laughter and cheers.

‘I need to escape.’ Oliver spoke in his mind.

Knowledge filled his mind: Spells and their uses. The hand gestures necessary to tug at the weave to make his will, his need a reality.

An unknown force guided his hand, raising it high and surging with magical power. Oliver’s eyes snapped open with a fierce determination. He took a deep breath, his fingers at the ready as he prepared to recite the incantation.

“I…” Oliver began when the Stranger struck. There was a blink and there was the stranger in front of him, his hand wrapped tightly around Oliver’s wrist.

“So.” the Stranger spoke in an oddly smooth voice “You ready to tell me what you were doing squirreling about?”

Oliver was strained against the Stranger but his grip was as strong as iron. Unless he could complete the hand gestures and motions along with the incantation, the spell was incomplete and he was as helpless as a kitten in Stranger’s grasp.

Oliver grimaced in pain “Now you’re remembering to be human? No creepy staring or awkward conversations about death?”

“Sorry, sometimes my lady speaks through me. I am her will incarnate on this plane.” The Stranger gave a sheepish grin

Oliver smiled uneasily “Right mysterious lady sure. That’s totally normal. How about you let me go and I won’t take the psychotic act personally?”

“But it is personal.” The Stranger’s smirk widen, his teeth too sharp to be mortal “You’re up to something and I’d like to know what.”

‘Great.’ Oliver thought to himself, his eyes darting about for a sign of assistance: a cloaked figure nearby fidgeted awkwardly but ultimately did nothing, a few nobles conveniently glanced the opposite direction of their altercation. Even the guards were nowhere in sight. Whoever this person was, he was the luckiest son of a bitch in the world.

Oliver pursed his lips, his mind desperately grasping at ideas to escape this situation.

“Party planner” Oliver offered helpfully “My job is to keep track of everything, make sure the party is moving smoothly and ensure there is no issues. You know how Mr. Brambleoak dislikes unnecessary distractions.”

The Stranger nodded in understanding “Party planner? That’s a good one. Feasible. If were I shade dumber, I might actually believe you. However…”

Oliver winced in pain as his grip tightened. The bard had been manhandled once or twice before but never this single handedly.

“Now” The Stranger’s golden eyes narrowed threateningly “Let’s try this one more time before you really anger my lady. What were you doing?”

Oliver opened his mouth.

“There you are!”

For one nerve wracking moment Oliver thought the Stranger had backup but he seemed just as confused as he was.

Maria cut in between two men gracefully and forced the Stranger to release his grip. He backed away as she linked herself arm in arm with Oliver.

“Sweetie!” She spoke with honeyed words, patting his arm lovingly “You ran off so quickly. I was worried I’d upset you.”

“Umm.” Oliver eyed the Stranger carefully, wary at any sudden movements “Sorry honey. This person thought I was someone he knew.”

Maria peered closer, getting a good look at the man.

The Stranger smiled cheekily “Fraid I got the wrong person.”

“You should really be careful, the guards here dislike any disturbance to the festivities.”

Almost as if magically summoned by her words, the guards began to approach with hands on their blades.

“Of course. Of course. Wouldn’t want trouble.” the Stranger bowed mockingly “Besides, I don’t think he’s the one I want.”

“That’s certainly ominous.” Oliver murmured under his breath.

Maria jabbed him with her elbow though her gaze never left the Stranger’s golden eyes.

“We should go.” Oliver offered helpfully “I think I’ve overstayed my welcome.”

Maria beamed cheerfully “No worries, I was feeling a bit tired myself. Good night good sir.”

“Bye.”

“Good night miss” the Stranger tilted his head “Bard.”

Maria hurriedly dragged Oliver away.

“Thanks for the save.” Oliver said gratefully.

Maria blew a strain of hair from her face “You’re welcome.”

“Not mad about using you as a distraction?”

“Normally I would be” Maria admitted “But that little stunt you pull got the harpies off my back for the rest of night.”

Oliver chuckled “Basking in the admiration of their adoring fans?”

“You have no idea.” she replied wearily “I’m just happy for a moment of peace. So thank you for that.”

“You are welcome then.”

The two made their way outside and straight into quite the scene: a massive cheering crowd formed around a handful of people. Most of the combatants were faced down, sprawled across the cobbled streets though Oliver spotted two familiar faces standing tall and victorious over their fallen foes.

“ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED!?” Terri screamed into the roaring masses, arms flexed. Tyrell looked like he was about to pass out from exhaustion.

Oliver spotted Lea among the thundering crowd, his eyes alive with excitement and joy.

Terri caught Oliver’s eye and gave a proud smile. Oliver offered a subtle thumbs up as Maria led him away from the bank.

“I take it you can’t go far.” Maria stated simply.

“No” Oliver spoke honestly “I’m afraid my business is not yet concluded.”

“Is it alright if I stay with you for now?”

Oliver bit his lip nervously “Sure. Of course. I have a moment. Not curious about what I was up to?”

Maria gave a cheeky smirk “Naturally but I have a feeling secrecy is important here. Better to not ask than force you to lie to me."

“Thank you. I don’t like lying to you.”

The two stood side by side, arms intertwined together in a quiet comfortable near silence.

Maria smiled softly “You know my father used to warn me about my sentimentality for people. About they would use it against me.”

“People like me?”

She smirked mischievously as she puffed out her chest, speaking in a mocking tone “There will come poet whose weapon is his word. He will slay you with his tongue.”

Oliver snorted loudly, trying to hide his flushing skin “Oh lei oh lai oh lord?”

“Oh quiet you.” Maria scolded with a chuckle “Surprise you didn’t take the set up.”

“Too easy.”

“Should I be offend?”

“I mean those are pretty good lyrics” Oliver replied, hand high in surrender “Surprised they came out of your father’s bitter lips.”

“I suppose everyone has their moments. However rare.”

“I suppose so.”

Maria’s hazel eyes met Oliver’s brown, curious yet expecting “Do you remember what you said to me two months ago? At the last competition?”

“Umm…” Oliver scratched his chin thoughtfully “I say a lot of things. You need to be specific.”

“That my voice was utterly angelic?”

“Ah, I didn’t think you actually heard me.” Oliver’s cheeks blushed a bright red.

Maria giggled sweetly “Did you mean it? What you said inside?”

“Yes” Oliver answered without hesitation “You don’t need them. You would be amazing by yourself.”

Maria’s smile was sad. She sighed tiredly as she threw a glance towards the bank “My father won’t let me but you knew that, didn’t you?”

Oliver nodded in confirmation.

“I feel like I am a disappointment. A puppet controlled by a father who craves nothing but influence and status.”

“You’re not.”

“How do you know?”

Oliver shifted uneasily.

“That’s what I thought bard. Nice try though.”

Oliver caught sight of Flora and Sel making their way outside, signaling the others the mission was complete. Terri and Tyrell broke free from the fight circle and began making their way towards the rendezvous point.

Maria slipped her arm out of his “It is time I suppose.”

“Enjoy your night off.” Oliver took her hand in his own and softly kissed it. Maria flushed a pink hue but still curtsy in response.

Oliver turned to face her, his eyes gentle and understanding “You aren’t a disappointment.”

Maria rolled her eyes “You don’t have to lie to me.”

“I’m not.” Oliver firmly stated.

Maria’s eyes stared quizzically into his “Certain, are you?”

Oliver cleared his throat “You aren’t a disappointment to me.”

“That’s sweet but I’m afraid I barely know you. Besides you’ve been a thorn in my father’s plans consistently. Technically, I shouldn’t be talking to you let alone assisting.”

Oliver gave an impish grin “Yet you are.”

“You are far too charming for your own good.” Maria frowned mockingly

“Nothing compared to you.”

“Sweet words are nothing without meaning beyond them bard.”

Oliver took a deep calming breath, struggling to get the words out before he lost his nerve “The boy who used to climb your fence still loves you.”

Maria’s eyes widen with confusion before realization dawned upon her hazel eyes “How did you…?”

but Oliver ran, bravery failing. He disappeared into the crowded streets without another word. He ducked and weaved through the people in case Maria decided to chase him though he doubt she would. Perhaps those words didn’t have the same weight as they once did. Oliver really did not want to stick around to find out. He shouldn’t have said anything but he’d never been good at keeping his mouth shut.

-----

It hadn’t taken long for Oliver to meet up with the rest of the crew. Everyone managed to gather in a nearby alley, their chatter excited and cheerful.

“Boss man!” Terri boomed, arms opened wide “WE DID IT! See the pile? Do I get results or do I get results?”

Oliver gave a weak chuckle “Yes you do. Remind me not to piss you off.”

“Damn straight.” Terri flexed unnecessarily once more. Flora gave a playful wink towards her girlfriend which turned Terri a lovely bright pink.

Tyrell looked haggard and sick “I never want to do that again. Ever.”

“You did amazingly Ty! You can be First Chair in no time if you keep this up!” Terri patted his back approvingly, Tyrell nearly went sprawling to the floor below.

Oliver gave a sharp whistle, grabbing the attention of everyone “We did great team and it was an honor to work with you. If you require my assistance, I’ll be in town for a few days at the Right Hook. Ask for Ollie.”

Terri slipped her hand into Flora’s “We won’t be in town much longer. We have business up north but we wish you well! Permission to leave?”

“Granted.” Oliver waved them off “No making out until you leave our sights.”

It was impossible to know who was a redder shade: Terri or Flora.

The pair bowed respectfully before taking their leave, Flora’s head resting lovingly on Terri’s shoulder. Oliver couldn’t help chuckle at Terri’s proud “And you didn’t poison anyone! Great work sweetheart!”

Oliver turned to the remaining two “Sel, destroy the paper and report back to the local Conductor. If there’s any more trouble come get me.”

Sel gave a single nod before disappearing into the crowded streets without another word.

“And me?” Tyrell whispered anxiously “What about me?”

“You.” Oliver stretched his neck, trying to relive the tension of the night “You’re gonna tell me how to get into the Clifftop Distract.”

“E-excuse me?”

Oliver waved his question off “Don’t even. I know you’re a noble born. Your clothes are way too nice to be a simple baker or blacksmith’s son. And barely frayed means you ran away from home recently.”

Tyrell glanced away, fidgeting nervously “You noticed?”

Oliver nodded.

“And you don’t care?”

“Not in the least” Oliver admitted honestly “You got into the Choir. That means you’re good in my book.”

“Thank you.” Tyrell smiled softly “I appreciate it. May I ask why you need to get into the Clifftop Distract?”

Oliver scratched the back of his neck sheepishly “Someone I know has business up there. Figured I might as well ask you to make our lives easier.”

“You’re a good friend.”

“I’m really not.” Oliver murmured quietly, unable to stare Tyrell in the eyes.

Tyrell shook his head is disagreement but didn’t press further “Every month they change the password. This month’s is Knightly Valor.”

“Knightly Valor, thank you.”

“No, thank you for not telling the others. May I go now?”

Oliver ruffled Tyrell’s hair playfully “Go on scamp.”

Tyrell bowed and with a skip in his step, made his way out of the alleyway.

Oliver stood there alone for a moment before turning towards the shadows.

“You gonna keep follow me or we’re finally going to talk?”

The figure did not break the silence of the night as they stepped out seemingly from darkness itself.

“You knew I was following you? Impressive given not many can sense my presence” the cloaked figured spoke. unable to keep the curiosity out of her voice.

“Mhm.” Oliver grunted “Ever since West End. You were in the bar the night Abigail and I hired Archie. I heard you moving about when we camped for the night, just down the tunnel out of sight. I assume you lost us when we went down the side tunnels and decided to stake out West Haven for us to pass through. You’ve been tailing me all night since I left the Right Hook.

The figure said nothing.

“That’s what I thought.” Oliver sighed tiredly “Alright, we gonna have a problem? I've had a long night and I've been threaten one times too many today.”

“No problem.” The figure muttered.

Oliver narrowed his eyes suspiciously “Then why show yourself?”

“You need to know my presence.”

Oliver sighed “You are being very cryptic.”

“Now you know how everyone else feels.”

Oliver smirked mockingly, unable to hide the sarcasm from his voice “Thanks, I hate it!”

“Be careful bard.” the figured glanced about, worried “Something is coming.”

“Nice and vague, thanks for the tip ninja.”

The figure shifted uncomfortably but remained silent.

“Fine, go on then if you're not gonna be any more helpful.” Oliver shook his head before closing his eyes. When he opened them, the figure was gone, upped and vanished into nothingness.

Oliver ran his hand through hair tiredly as he began making his way back to the Right Hook.

“And I still have to climb two stories. Fucking hell, what a night.”

#My work #Original Work #original story #welcome to the underground #Welcome to the underground!

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hey-there-juliet · 3 years

Text

Random Drabble Day (2/23)

Summary: First off, let me just say that this is more like a one-shot than a drabble because I'm a wordy bitch and I cannot control myself 😅

That said, I always had a hard time imagining Julie writing some of the Perfect Harmony's lyrics about herself, so I thought why not make this just another song that Luke and Julie wrote together? This is set somewhere between Finally Free and Edge of Great, in that week when Ray was stress-eating. This is supposed to fit back into the show at the end, so it might seem like a cliffhanger, but it's not.

Quick shout out to @jamestkirkish for betaing this for me! I love you and you are amazing! Any remaining mistakes are my own. And to the fabulous Sloan, for helping me out with Luke's handwriting! Enjoy 🧡

Fandom: Julie and the Phantoms

Relationship: Juke 💜

in the great scheme of life and ghosts

No matter how many times Luke insisted that she had been snooping through his things, Julie knew for a fact that she had done no such thing. In reality, she had simply been cleaning the studio when she came across it.

For three ghosts who didn't eat and could barely even touch anything most of the time, the boys sure knew how to make a mess. Every morning Julie would walk into the studio to find the chairs or coffee table rearranged, at least one of the rugs was always askew, and the clothes... the clothes were everywhere, and the worst part was: they reeked.

And so every morning before leaving for school Julie would shoot them a stern look and tell them to pick up after themselves. Which they did - when she got back home, things were mostly in their rightful place. Still, every weekend Julie would make sure to take a moment away from homework and rehearsal to tidy the place up to perfection, just like her mom liked it. She'd dust off the furniture, water the plants, sweep the floor, and even vacuum the whole place. One Saturday when she was home alone (her dad photographing a wedding, and Carlos at a friend's house), she even went through the trouble of washing all of the guys' old clothes.

Somehow, and she didn't even want to think about how that worked, the clothes didn't stink when they were actually wearing them, but at any other moment when they made no contact with their skin? Yeah... not good. So she washed them all (three times, using every trick and product she had). She washed them a fourth time for good measure and, by the time she was finished, any traces of twenty-five year old mold was gone, and so was the smell.

So no, she was not snooping - no matter what Luke said - when she came across the crumpled paper ball between the couch and the low cabinet, just behind a big vase her mom had gotten from tía Victoria.

Julie sighed, making a mental note to tell Luke to put his discarded ideas in the bin (again) if he didn't want them anymore, when one scribbled and wrinkled word caught her attention: Perfect Ha-

She bit her lip, staring down at the teasing word. Perfect what? Was it lyrics? Maybe half formed ideas? Doodles? Julie knew Luke liked to doodle in the margins of his notebook whenever he got stuck trying to come up with the next best piece of lyric or melody. She also knew she should probably just leave it alone, put it with his stuff to ask him later if he wanted to keep it, or put it in the garbage. Except the more she glanced down at that damn word, the stronger she felt it pull her towards uncovering whatever else the crumpled paper ball was hiding.

In the end, the pull was too strong. She'd just take a quick look, make sure it wasn't anything important before she threw it away. And, she reasoned with herself, trying to squish the guilt that was making itself known in the pit of her stomach: Luke had gotten rid of it, so he clearly didn't care much for whatever was in there.

Not able to resist any longer, Julie carefully unfolded the paper, slowly making her way towards the piano and using its surface as a table to help smooth the page over.

Luke's (horrendous) handwriting covered it with the bare bones of a song, random lines were scribbled in the margins with a couple of doodles for company, and even a little note from their bassist - ‘Reggie was here ;)’.

It took her a minute before the chicken scratches became words, and then Julie's breath left her in a rush, as the guilty feeling in her stomach turned into butterflies and flew away with her imagination.

It was a song, parts of one, anyway, and - more importantly - it was a love song.

Unprompted, her own words came back to her, "Wow, Luke! I didn't know you were such a romantic." Quickly followed by Alex's short reply, "He's not."

She knew now who Unsaid Emily was really about, but these new words were clearly about a different kind of love. The romantic kind, and Julie couldn't help letting herself believe - just for a moment - that the song might be about her.

Before she could let herself be carried away in a daydream, there was a - now familiar - shift in the air, a sound almost like static, the only thing letting her know of a ghost's appearance. Without a thought, she crumpled the page again and shoved the paper ball in her pocket for later inspection.

"Hey, Julie!" Reggie's cheerful greeting sounded across the studio from where he had poofed in, and soon - with his "help," bless him - Julie was finished with her weekend clean up.

As if summoned by the end of her chores, Luke poofed in, ready to rehearse. Alex soon followed; and by the time Julie retired for the night, the song had been almost forgotten where it hid inside her pocket.

Almost.

***

After getting ready for the night, Julie settled on her bed with the wrinkled page and her dreambox. She read over the words again and again, imagining they were about her.

Step into my world,

Bittersweet love story about a girl

Shook me to the core

Voice like an angel,

I've never heard before,

You and me together, it's more than chemistry

Love me as I am

I hold your music

Here inside my hands

You are my brightest burning star

We create Perfect Harmony.

And unless Luke had been singing with another girl, there didn't seem to be many options on who it could be about, right?

From the beginning, Julie had felt something connecting her to him; to all of them, in different ways. But Luke had been the one to give her a little piece of his soul right after meeting her when he let her use Bright to earn back her spot in the music program. Seeing his passion reflecting back on her, the way he treated music like she used to, made her miss it more than anything for the first time in almost a year. It made her miss the way it felt to use music to connect with her mom.

After they spent a whole weekend finishing each other's songs and working on new ones, getting to know each other's inner workings - the part of them that bled out feelings into paper to create beautiful melodies, Julie knew she was a goner. Finding out he'd been the one to write the words that shaped her taste in rock certainly didn't help. Like he'd been helping her find her way to music long before they even met.

Her crush on him had been inevitable from the start, and while falling for him was probably one of the worst things she could’ve done, it was too late to stop it. She'd been free falling for a while, and hopefully she'd land in his arms soon enough. Reading over his words again gave Julie a warm fluttering in her stomach that made her think he was more than ready to catch her once she reached the ground.

Carefully folding the piece of paper, she put it inside her dreambox, then placed the box back on the shelf.

***

The following week went by without any hiccups. Every once in a while, Julie would remember Luke's song and a familiar warmth would fill her up, leaving a soft smile on her lips and glazed eyes staring off at nothing. Just as often, Flynn would have to shake her out of her daydreams.

She didn't think much would come of it until her dad decided to throw the band a party so he could film them and post their video on YouTube. Which was fine. Amazing, even. It was most certainly great! Until Luke came to the school, staring at her with his stupid, beautiful, awed eyes, and with his soft, perfect smile, saying things that made her combust and melt, all at the same time.

"I think you make me a better writer."

"I think we make each other better."

Calling Nick 'Luke' was bad enough, but slipping into a complete musical sequence as she danced with him? "Goner" didn't even begin to describe her.

Like the other times they'd written together, the lyrics flowed through her, finishing the song he'd started with the same ease as one would take a breath.

Julie knew that whatever was going on between her and Luke couldn't happen or, if it did, it couldn't last. In fact, in the great scheme of life and ghosts, she didn't know much, but what she did know was that - be it in life or in death - love was constant.

He didn't need to have a heartbeat or to be able to touch her for her to love him. He was just as real to her as the next person, and whether it would hurt in the long run or not, it didn't matter.

She knew Flynn was only looking out for her, but that ship had sailed, and Julie was already so lost in his ocean eyes that avoiding eye contact wasn't going to bring it back. She would entertain her though, even knowing it wouldn't work. Just like the tide, eventually he'd pull her right back in.

She could love him just as he was, for however long they had together, and especially after that.

End notes: I hope you guys enjoyed it! And, if you'll notice, at the beginning it kind of gives off the impression that Luke eventually finds out about the song and Julie tells him how she found it. Which may or may not lead you to believe that they're in a relationship. I guess it all depends on interpretation though ;)

Oh, also! Shout out to the chaos squad folks that guessed right! You guys are no fun :( /j lmao

#RDD #23 by 23 challenge #fanfic #mine #jatp #jatp fic #julie and the phantoms #julie molina #luke patterson #juke #jukebox #julie x luke #fic recs

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kings-workshop-kincare · 3 years

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♕ An Obligatory Introduction

Salutations, and welcome to my account. Here you will find a multitude of moodboards for the kin community. They are made to order, so if there's something specific you're looking for.

As of right now there is only one person in charge of this account, that being me. You may call me Pale King, or Gwyn if you'd rather. My pronouns are it/its.

I will make kin self-care boards, food boards and fashion boards. However, please note that for the time being I will be refraining from filling out any fashion board requests. I find them quite mentally taxing. As I said, these boards are made as per your request so if you have any particular likes, dislikes or requirements that I should know about then include them.

Given that there is, in fact, only one person in charge of this account there may be a slight delay in getting to your request. Tumblr can eat things on occasion so feel free to send in your request again, but please don't spam it repeatedly. Also, please keep your requests to one per ask.

Look under the cut for more information, please. We eagerly await your requests.

Before you make a request, please read this blacklist:

I will not, under any circumstances, make boards of any kind for characters who are explicitly bigots or pedophiles.

I will not make boards for real people. However, personas are alright.

I would rather not make boards for characters from KiIIing StaIking, Yarichin Bitch Club or Dragon Ball Z. Also, Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss and Homestuck are a no-go.

I am willing to accept requests from most sources. If you’re unsure about a source then feel free to ask.

If I deny a request, please don’t take it personally. I’d rather not disappoint you by giving you a half-assed board.

If you would like to know more about the admin, keep reading:

Hello. As I have told you, my name is Pale King. You can address me as Gwyn if you find my other name a bit too wordy, but I clearly have a preference. I ID heavily as the Pale King from Hollow Knight and do not like to be treated as separate from him. This is down to personal preference, and though I'd rather not deal with specifics, I think my mental illness plays a part in this. You may see me referring to myself as "we", but this is simply the royal 'we'. I am not part of a DID system, nor will I ever claim to be.

#fictionkin #kin blog #otherkin #kin care #kin community #self promo #kinblr

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rpbetter · 3 years

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Traditional Writing Advice & RP

I see a lot of people reblogging writing advice posts, and while it pleases me to see people trying to appreciate RP as writing, those pieces of advice don’t always translate from traditional writing to RP writing.

Following the advice for writing a traditional book manuscript you want to have published, you are going to run into some issues if you follow every point of it faithfully in an RP setting.

For one thing, this isn’t just your story, you’re telling it with another writer. In RP, our reading audience and our writing partners are the same. We have to create well-written, engaging stories that are also meant to be picked up by someone else and furthered. For another, even among the most writing proficient RPers, this is a more relaxed style of writing for a reason; we’re writing neither a paper to be graded nor a work to be published, we’re expressing creativity with other people. It can fall flat quickly, to your writing partners and to yourself, if you are writing in an extremely formal manner in RP.

Writing is one of the creative pursuits that has lent itself heavily to what I’m going to politely call snobbery, and that is part of the problem here. The RPC is rather filled with muns who are self-concious, devalue themselves and their work, and can be desperate for the approval of being A Real Writer. If you love writing and you do write, you’re a writer. No, that definitely doesn’t make you a good writer, but following rules not meant for you isn’t going to make you one either.

There is a wrong way to write, actually, there are hundreds of wrong ways to write that make me want to rip my own face off on the regular. The thing is, there is no one-size-fits-all correct way to write any more than there is such a standard in visual art. There are principles that one should know and follow, but your style might be neoclassical or modern or impressionist. Saying that, in my personal opinion, things falling under the heading of modern-style art is horrid, thus inherently wrong and not art, I’d be imposing my personal aesthetics instead of encouraging people to follow appropriate principles, run with their passion and skill, and make art that moves people who are not me. That’s important, in general, but it’s even more important when we’re talking about creative art as a hobby-as a legitimate passion project one isn’t obliged to devote themselves to.

That’s the way we need to be looking at writing as well. Not as an academic and absolute Right Way, but as an art form that has principles, and indeed, literal form. By insisting otherwise, we’ve damaged writing as a hobby and a profession, and it really shows in the RPC where you have a rather stark division of muns who, on the one side, are so ate up with bizarre concepts their professor threw out about never using “said,” forcing the ideology of their personal academic experience on others, and using traditional writing advice as Word of God to shame others and elevate themselves. On the other side, you have a ton of muns who just won’t even bother anymore, and why should they? They’re genuinely not up to par, but working on it means both a process of shaming and killing their own creative experience.

In saying all this, I want to be really clear here: I am in no way saying that shitty writing, an inability to follow basic grammatical principles, being unwilling to use the damn spellcheck that is standard everywhere, and having no concept of things like storytelling, characterization, and word flow is excusable or ideal.

It isn’t. It’s a terribly destructive force in the RPC, and I’m not in the camp of excusing disinterest in learning, improving, and perfecting one’s hobby because it is an unpaid hobby. In my opinion, it’s part of the blight of the current RPC. However, the snobbery and inability to recognize that there is nuance to learning and writing situations has done nothing but worsen this issue.

So, that being said, some items that are 100% good to use traditionally and in RP include:

Grammar, spelling, and punctuation.

We’re not all native English speakers, and grammar is difficult anyway. It can also turn a story bland with expedience when too properly adhered to. Know the basic principles, but also, be asking yourself about both popular works of fiction and your own favorite works. Chances are, they do not strictly adhere to the rules. Experienced, naturally gifted, and learned writers all manipulate those rules to work for their stories, characters, world-building, and so on. It becomes a personalized writing style, and it’s alright if it takes you some practice to find yours.

Just remember, grammar exists for a reason. Removing or mutating too much will leave you with a difficult to read and understand mess that isn’t a style, just a fucking mess.

If you struggle with grammar, the best way to help yourself is to practice. Additionally, seeing what errors you are making can be quite helpful; Grammarly offers a free add on for both Google Chrome and FireFox that will show you spelling and grammar mistakes. It also explains the mistake, while offering you a suggested fix. This way, you can see the mistakes you’re making in action. {Presumably, there are other such resources, but since I have no experience with them, I’m not the one to recommend them.}

As I said above, spellcheckers are standard now, in fucking 2021. This has been standard on devices and browsers for so long that I highly doubt most people on tumblr even remember a time when you had to use additional software to have them.

You make a mistake or misspell, and if it isn’t corrected for you, it’s underlined very obviously for you to tap/click/float over to correct. If the word is so terribly misspelled that no suggestion comes up {not all spellcheckers are created equality; some do not recognize slang or relaxed spellings, archaic word use, myriad, particularly specialized jargon-legal, medical, technical-and so on}, we also live in a time period where we can highlight the word, right-click that bitch, and select from the menu the option to search for the word. If the word was so weirdly misspelled that your checker couldn’t figure it out, it is incredibly rare that Google doesn’t throw out the correct spelling when you search it. If the spelling was correct, but the word-use is slang, jargon, or archaic, Google is also going to tell you that-you’ve confirmed it is correct, and can now decide if you want to use it or pick a possible synonym for it instead.

There is no fucking excuse for egregiously misspelled words anymore. None. I mean...listen, I spell quite terribly myself, but no one reading my RP replies is ever going to know that fact. Having difficulty with spelling is not, and has not been for a very long time now, an impediment to writing.

Furthermore, we all miss a typo here and there, especially if we write lengthy novella. Those aren’t always going to be caught by spellcheck, and we might edit the reply five times without seeing it. That happens, it’s alright when it’s minimal! Anything other than that, though, it’s just a combination of rushing and laziness. You really couldn’t be assed to take your time with that reply, read it over at least once before posting, and/or to click the underlined word.

There. Is. No. Excuse.

Again, not all spellcheckers are the same. If you feel like yours is lacking, try an extension for your browser. Since I said it above, I obviously have Grammarly on my mine. My replies effectively go through three different checkers, actually. I write all drafts outside of my browser where it is initially checked by Pages, then, when I paste it into tumblr, it’s being checked natively and by Grammarly. It wasn’t my intention, I just wanted to be positive I was never losing a draft or cooking my ancient laptop with Google Docs. However, it’s been nice as hell to get the perspective of multiple checkers, and as such, I definitely recommend it. It isn’t like I’m putting any extra effort into this, and I’m not paying for Grammarly, either.

When you refuse to behoove yourselves of the spellchecker natively available to you, at least, you’re seriously telling your writing partners that they were not important enough for you to click a fucking word. It’s inexcusable.

Punctuation being nonexistent isn’t a writing style or aesthetic, neither is a refusal to capitalize anything. If never using a comma is part of your Aesthetic™, please, rethink your fucking life and the hobby you’ve chosen.

Punctuation is a part of grammar, and I understand that there can be complexities present that might be confusing. That is one of the reasons why you should bother to know the basics as regards when and how to use punctuation. It’s also another way in which telling people that they should adhere to advice meant for traditional and academic writing can be a shit idea. Especially in an RPC known to misunderstand shit and go overboard.

When you tell the RPC that writers use too many commas, the RPC stops using them all around. Especially, when you also attach this to the idea of evil “wordiness.” That’s something that the RPC is desperate to avoid anyway, as the majority of people here are allergic to reading and writing; anything you advise that lessens the word count for them is going to be grabbed and erroneously applied. Someone implies that wordiness and commas equals run-on sentences, and the RPC gets not only believes it, it gets this message, “if I take out the commas, it isn’t a run-on sentence.”

You have all fundamentally misunderstood what a god damned run-on sentence is. It’s not a long sentence, it isn’t a proliferation of commas. A run-on sentence is when two, or more, sentences that should be individual are conjoined without proper punctuation {a fucking comma, for example} or a coordinating conjunction.

Run-ons can be surprisingly short, in fact. As in the example I lifted from here, “I love to write papers I would write one every day if I had the time.“

That should be written with a comma, separated into two sentences, or broken with a comma and the conjunction “and.” It’s also what I see incessantly on my dash from this bizarre idea that we shouldn’t be using commas. That a run-on sentence is a very long one separated only by commas. That is literally not what a run-on sentence is.

You absolutely can use too many commas {if you want to read some examples of how to use commas, go here}, but I rarely see anyone doing so to such an extreme. The extreme being that a sentence becomes a nonsensical string of conjoined thoughts, ideas, and descriptions that could have been written better broken up into fully formed sentences. I sometimes see muns who go a little nuts with commas by putting them in wildly incorrect places in this way.

What I see constantly is either muns berating themselves for perfectly normal, readable sentence structure or muns reactively using no punctuation at all.

It is all legitimate run-on sentences or those made so short and blunt that they become nonsensical, change the tone of the writing, or have no flow together.

Which brings me to...

Sentence flow is a thing, and you should be doing it.

Unfortunately, this good writing advice tends to throw people. We’re not talking about the flow that needs to be present in academic sentence structure, or exactly the flow that is present in poetry. Though it may require practice to understand and apply well, it’s an incredibly simple concept.

You want to balance out shorter, blunter sentences with those that are longer and more flowing. It gives the text a pleasant, natural rhythm. However, it isn’t just about length, a thing that the RPC is weirdly fixated on. Rather, it’s about word use within those sentences as well.

It’s always important to write with a tone that works with your scene and, overall, with your muse. For example, in a tense, aggressive scene, or with a muse who is generally this way, it gets the message across to use short sentences and clipped words. We can feel the tension, annoyance, and threat.

Furthermore, the way your muse thinks about and uses words is relevant. A well-educated muse from the 1800′s isn’t going to have the same approach to words that a modern-day high school student does. You should be making that clear in the way they speak, but also, in the way you express their thoughts and actions. If you are only writing your muse’s personality and emotional tone when your muse is speaking, you’re not giving me the tone all the way through. It can feel like a marked delineation in flow.

However, you should be considering the overall flow of your writing as well. Did you just lay down back-to-back eloquently verbose sentences? If so, you may want to either follow them up or space them with a shorter sentence comprised of simpler words.

This is legitimately good writing advice for any manner of writing.

So is...

Show, don’t tell.

Which is another piece of advice that throws people when they try to make it more complex than necessary. That, and it grates up against the RPC’s need for short, quick writing. The idea that anything a mun gives you that your muse cannot react to verbally or with action is filler to be avoided. That idea comes from some principle advice that translates badly to RP; essentially, don’t wax poetic for three pages when it has nothing to do with the plot, characters, scene-setting elements, action, and so on. Don’t be Tolkien describing every tree and rock in excruciating detail on the way to destroy the One Ring, basically.

That isn’t fully appropriate advice in RP, where we’re having to write tiny chapters to each other to add onto. While it still has some merit, the RPC definitely has taken it to mean that you shouldn’t show anything. My muse’s private thoughts, emotions expressed and unexpressed, stirred-up memories, things they planned to say/do, but that were naturally interrupted by the flow of the thread all become Unnecessary. With...no mind to what they are showing and creating.

This particularly erodes writing muses as legitimate feeling people. As in the last example of what my muse intended to say or do that was interrupted. That’s a normal, human experience. It would be difficult and not enjoyable to read every instance of a muse’s broken thoughts and impulses or intentions, but giving one every so many replies in a natural feeling way keeps my muse presenting as a real person having a real person’s experience. Simple things like this go a long way toward your muse being “believable,” and by ignoring them or refusing to do them, you’re not making your muse very realistic. So much of the human experience is private, unknowable to outside parties.

Look...if you only knew me based upon a sterilized version of what I was saying to you or doing purely within the context of single interaction at a time, you wouldn’t know me at all. You’d have no idea what sort of nuance there is in my words, how I am expressing or withholding an opinion or emotion. I may not have any opinions, emotions, or other experiences that you are not contributing to. That’s very unrealistic, I’m not actually a person anymore. I haven’t any personality, I didn’t exist before you interacted with me.

That is the way it is with muses too. By stripping them of their internal experiences, we’re stripping them of more realistic feeling characterization. {It becomes, or adds to, a disastrous domino-effect of projected, cardboard stand-in style muses that are in no way a joy to interact with.} This is bad writing, makes for bad reading and interacting.

No one seems to understand show, don’t tell. Let me put it in a simple example: don’t tell me your muse is a good person, show me. Don’t tell me your muse is upset right now, show me.

Your muse has character traits you feel makes them A Good Person. They are compassionate, selfless, and genuinely interested in others. Don’t just leave that in the muse’s bio, or relegate it to statement-style lines like, “she cared deeply about others.” Show me these traits in action and thought. You don’t require anything dramatic to it, either. A muse like this should be a good listener, proceed with their love language in a way reflects personal involvement and a desire to comfort, be willing to sacrifice time and personal interests {don’t keep it to dramatic and literal self-sacrifice to show “selfless”}, legitimately doesn’t think of themselves first and foremost and may need reminding to care for themselves, and will be troubled by unfairness and cruelty in the world.

Your muse has been in a disagreement with a loved one, they’re not just “upset,” they are sad, angry, disappointed, and maybe even confused or surprised. While those are more descriptive and defining of the type of complex “upset” going on here, don’t leave it at these words. Don’t tell me that she said, angrily. Show me that she is having thoughts based on these emotions, actual emotional turmoil at her expectations of a loved one being devastated. Paint me a picture of the sadness in her features, the anger in her walk, how her words come out unpolished and jumbled in her surprise and turmoil.

This is what it means to show me, not tell me.

It also extends to scenes and recollections.

If your muse is happy sitting in her garden, don’t just tell me this. Show me why she is happy there, and define the sort of happiness in her thoughts, body language, voice, and expressions. Describe the aspects of the garden in tones of the happiness they bring, draw comparisons between this and her outward expression of joy with similar word use. It ties together both seamlessly in a way that we can relate to and feel, even if we hate the outdoors.

If this muse had a traumatic incident in her past, this is going to inconveniently come up, even if only in her mind. Don’t play coy about it and drop shit on your partners like, “she was thinking of things and stuff that was bad again.” No. Even if you are alluding or otherwise keeping the actual event secretive, you need to be describing how the muse is feeling, how she is experiencing the world around her through an overlay of upsetting reminders. Show me how she is having a visceral reaction to triggering stimuli while having to keep working or talking.

Additionally, even when your muse isn’t experiencing the scene you have set directly, you should show me instead of telling me about it.

Since my actual least favorite PSA on how it’s better to just tell people because no one wants to read “all that” deals with rain, we’re going to as well. Because it doesn’t have to be excessively descriptive to fucking show me it’s raining or has rained instead of just stating the fact.

Not, “it was raining.” Not, “it was wet outside.”

“In between her words, the distant, wall-dampened splash of cars driving through puddles.”

“He passed by windows beaded with moisture on his way to the kitchen.”

Wow, that was so complex, really a lot to read to get the idea that it is, or has been, raining outside without me directly telling you this!

There isn’t anything wrong with being more descriptive than this {nor is there anything wrong with using the word “rain,” so long as you’re backing it up with a description}, some of us do like to read and write about things like oil-slicked puddles in the street if our muse is seeing them or it is otherwise relevant. It’s just that you don’t have to do this, or have to do it at all times, to show instead of tell. This is yet another serious misunderstanding.

It isn’t that the description is often really that excessive, it’s more often that it is irrelevant to the extreme of sticking out weirdly. In the puddle thing, if my muse isn’t seeing it and/or I am not using that description to further experience, their mindset, personality, or tying it to an analogy later in the reply, it feels weird.

Some superfluous shit isn’t bad either, and superfluous can be purely subjective. It is, again, when it is to such an extreme as to leave your writing partner feeling oddly about a point in the text that seemed to ring with importance, but then held none. That isn’t an act of showing or telling, and neither is it your partner trying to show off as a gifted writer. For whatever reason, they just saw or felt that moment with such passionate clarity they had to include it immediately instead of waiting until a better moment for it. That’s literally it, there’s no need to project your insecurity in weird ass ways.

There are definitely other pieces of traditional-based writing advice that are great and either do transfer to RP perfectly or can with small amendments, but these are the most basic, commonly seen, and important combinations. They are also easy to better understand and apply!

When reading writing advice posts, please, ask yourself how they fit into RP. If they do at all. Many times, when it comes to the absolute basics of writing coherently and enjoyably, or developing characters, they’re great. It’s when they get into topics of some nuance that they don’t cross over so well and are outright damaging.

These pieces of advice are often being misunderstood or misapplied already, then are being passed around to a community notorious for its lacking application of critical thinking. Severe misunderstanding will happen, and terrible writing “rules” within the RPC develop from them.

Do be interested in writing, don’t separate traditional writing and RP writing into categories like “real writing and RP,” be invested in learning and improving. Just ask yourself how it applies to cooperative storytelling that is often thematic in nature, and proceed with caution and the mindset that writing is an art.

If you have the principles down and both yourself and others are enjoying your writing, you’re not doing it in an inherently wrong way because it wouldn’t be published. You’re not writing RP to have it published, and that’s not a bad thing. It’s just a difference to keep in mind when reading PSA’s about the Rules of Writing Whatever.

#tumblr rp #rp help #rp advice #rph #tumblr rpc #rpbetter #rpb #roleplay better #tumblr rp advice #traditional writing advice and rp #queue

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the-omni-princess · 5 years

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Frozen Heart [Chapter 6]

Author: @the-omni-princess

Summary: After the war against Hydra, King Bucky comes home to take what has been promised to him since he was young, you. But he is not the same person as the young boy that you grew up with. Can she break through his tough shell and bring back the young man she once fell in love with? Or will she be forced to marry the monster everyone thinks he’s become?

Word Count: 3.7K

Pairing: King!Bucky x Fem!Reader (Royalty Au!)

Warnings: language, reader is a badass, bit of blood, violence, bit of fluff

A/N:

Small cliffhanger, but I’m leaving on vacation on Wednesday with no wifi, so I’m determined to write this chapter today and post it asap!! Was gonna add it to this chapter but it was getting wordy so… it was also like 2 am when I’m rereading/posting this so be nice, please.

[Series Masterlist] [Masterlist]

----

The ride to the Northern Kingdom was faster than you remembered from your childhood, though you attributed that to the fact it was snowing the last time you were there. Though it was still summer, the Northern climate differed greatly from where you grew up. You knew as the months pressed on you would find yourself buried in blankets, sitting beside the fire, drinking hot cocoa, perhaps snuggled up alongside Bucky. The thought made you smile, your head currently pressed against Bucky’s shoulder, looking out the window towards the passing scenery.

“Penny for your thoughts, my Love? You’ve been quiet most of the way out of the South, and we are nearing more villages of the North.” Bucky whispered softly, his free hand was rubbing circles against your thigh, as you clung to his other arm.

You shrugged lazily, not wanting to move too far away from his body heat, “Thinking of the future, mostly how cold I’m going to be once the winter’s storms hit.”

He chuckled, the vibrations sending warmth throughout your body. “Don’t worry, doll, I’ll keep you nice and toasty, bundled up in the thickest furs and wools I can find.” He kissed the top of your head tenderly. “You should have seen the first winter during the war, Stevie would not shut up, he was convinced he would get hypothermia despite all of the Howlies giving him their furs.” You looked up towards him, leaning towards him to hear more. He was smiling fondly, his eyes looking off in the distance as he reminisced of the few and fleeting joyful moments during the war. His attention, however, was caught by the flags waving in the distance as the limo closed into the town.

As you drove through the community, you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. It was certainly different from the villages in your kingdom, most of these houses were reinforced for snow and ice, and they had the added feature of chimneys. Flags of the country seal adorned taverns and shop windows as the limo leisurely moved along the street. Wolves were a common theme around the kingdom, as were the kingdom colors, greys, blues, and silvers were the usual colors you saw in most signs.

“Bucky? I want you to teach me everything about your kingdom, I want to know your people, please,” you murmured softly, enchanted by the circle of dancers, merrily dancing with the people. It was late in the morning, closing in on high noon, one of the times you were aware was a powerful time for healers, who believed in the connections between the heavens and the humans below.

Bucky was grinning like an idiot beside you, and although you didn’t know it, he was only looking at your awed expression, determined to memorize your features. “Well, let’s start now,” he pointed towards the dancers, “it’s almost high noon, so those healers are dancing to the sun god to pray for healing. The summer solstice is almost upon us, so they are going through a physical and spiritual test as a sacrifice to the gods. The bigger circles are most likely family members and friends, dancing in support and for fun, while the smaller circle are the actual healers.” He pushed a stray hair behind your ear delicately as he spoke. Your breath caught in your throat meekly, you looked over your shoulder towards him, unconsciously looking up at him through your eyelashes as you gave him a bright smile. He felt his heart stutter, blushing as he continued. “We should switch to the horses soon, My Love. It’ll give you the chance to be up close and personal with the people if you want.” Your responding smile made his entire chest feel fuzzy with a feeling he couldn’t quite place, one that had been happening more frequently around you.

“I’d love that, Bucky, when can we make the switch? Poor Dermot is probably bored sick being pent-up.” You sat up straighter, excited to go riding again, grateful you decided on denim pants and an elegant blouse for the ride to the North.

“Dermot?” Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed, sending you into a fit of giggles.

“Dermot! My horse! His name comes from a hero in my kingdom’s mythology, it means Freedom. Riding was one of the few times I was allowed outside the castle walls, so that horse quickly became my freedom, plus it helps that he has a wild personality. The horse keeper says I’m the only rider he won’t kick-off.” His heart sunk at your words, despite your giddy smile. While an apt name indeed, its implications were that you were reduced to be some princess in the castle waiting for the war to end despite the advancements for equality in your kingdom.

He quickly recovered, determination to show you a newfound freedom building in his heart. “Well, doll, in the North, we can ride whenever your heart desires,” he promised, kissing your temple, not noticing the look of pure wonder you gave him at his words.

“Can we switch to the horse now? Please? I know we aren’t too far from the palace grounds, and you can show me all your favorite riding spots once we get there, if the sun allows it!” Your excitement was bubbling over, making Bucky laugh in amusement.

“Of course, my Queen. Whatever your heart desires, it shall be my pleasure to give you.” He vowed, the two of you wearing matching grins. He tapped on the tinted window separating the drivers from the two of you. As the window slipped down, you saw Scott and Sam were in the front, no doubt joking around, evident by the smirk on Sam’s face. “Scott, pull over at the next clearing, the Princess and I will be switching to the horses.”

“Certainly, Your Majesty,” Scott replied, shooting you a smile through the rearview mirror, Sam already sending someone texts on his security issued phone as the window rolled back up.

A few minutes later the village clear way to a thick forest, which lead to a meadow clearing. The limo stopped, and Bucky was quick to step out, already offering you his hand before you could speak. You smiled warmly, taking his assistance to your feet. He noticed the way you lit up as Dermot was taken out of the travel stable, running towards your horse, who was already saddled and getting antsy. Sam mildly nudged Bucky’s shoulder, the two having become friendly since Bucky had the tendency to gravitate towards you while staying in the South, and Sam was your personal guard. “You should hurry up, she’s gonna leave you in the dust,” Sam goaded, sending you a wave which you happily returned before you jumped up into the saddle like a pro.

Bucky rolled his eyes, not dignifying the man with a response and heading towards his own horse, Nova, who was also saddled. With a small huff, he was in the saddle, smiling shyly towards you. “Shall I lead the way, my Love?”

You quickly nodded, mocking a bow while taking hold of Dermot’s reigns, “Why of course, my King,” You teased.

The two of you rode through a few more villages as high noon came and went, taking a few short breaks for the horses’ sake. On one such break, you and Bucky were leaning against a tavern wall, the royal guards doing a decent job of turning unaware citizen to leave you two alone while the horses had water and snacks behind the tavern in a nearby stable. The two of you weren’t talking about much, Bucky was currently telling you of his plans to show you the entire castle grounds.

“Of course, as Queen, you’ll be allowed anywhere in the palace, as it’ll be your home with a little bit of time,” he expressed, sending small smiles towards you. You were about to respond when something out of the corner of your eyeline caught your attention. Always one to trust your instincts, you looked towards the flash. A young woman was cornered, two young men, no doubt only slightly older than her, were tugging at her purse as she cried out. They were pretty well hidden in the small alleyway, but it was broad daylight, and yet they were still robbing her.

Bucky had noticed your silence, quickly following your eyesight to the scene, anger filling his body. The crime rate of the kingdom had gone down significantly since he began his rule, but it was your first day and you were already witnessing the dark parts of the country. No one was making a move to help the poor girl, another thought that sent more rage through Bucky. Yet, as he was about to take a step towards the three, determined to end the scene, he was stunned to see you already stomping your way across the street to defend the woman. His eyes followed you, momentarily too dumbfounded to follow you.

As you approached, you could hear the insults the men were using, degrading the woman as she struggled against them for her purse, it only fueled your fury. “Hey!” you seethed, venom dripping from the single word. The men glanced towards you, both a bit shocked to see a woman fuming at them. The woman looked towards her savior, jumping slightly as the men laughed, clearly not taking you seriously.

“Aw! What are you going to do, little one? You should scram before your father sees you, or worse!” One of the men sneered, their attentions diverting from the woman, who had fallen to the ground.

“Yeah! We wouldn’t want your daddy to find you curled up on the street like a bitch,” the other man snickered. That is what cleared Bucky’s momentary paralysis, now heading towards you, though he was a moment too slow.

You growled lowly at the back of your throat and lunged for one of the men, pulling him off the woman before snapping your fist back, straight into his nose. Pain radiated up your knuckles, but it was dulled as the adrenaline started to kick in, making your moves slower. You spun on your heel, your elbow hitting the other man square in the jaw. One swift quick to the crotch and both men were falling to the ground, clutching either their face or their groins. A satisfied smirk on your face, you quickly turned to the woman who looked awestruck up at you. You offered her your unbloodied hand, “Are you hurt?” you quickly asked as you helped her to her feet. She quickly shook her head, still too shocked to speak. “Deep breaths then, it’ll calm the shock down.”

Someone whistled at the corner of the alleyway behind you, you quickly spun, already placing yourself between the sound and the woman before relaxing. Bucky, Sam, and Scott were standing there, watching you with matching smirks. Sam, who knew of your skill, was incredibly proud, “Damn y/n, we were gone for a few minutes,” you shrugged, a small grin on your face.

Bucky grinned up towards you, sparing a second glance at the two men still laying on the ground, both had bloody faces. “I’m both incredibly impressed and terribly aroused,” he muttered, locked onto your eyes as you blushed.

“It was nothing, Nat’s been teaching me. You didn’t think those assassins were taken down by Sam, did you? Nat and I took ‘em down,” you grinned proudly, excitedly showing off, Bucky gave you a childish grin in response, though Sam sent you a playful glare.

The woman behind you squeaked as she saw Bucky, recognizing him as he stepped closer to you. “Y-your Majesty!” She tried to curtsy but almost tumbled, and you caught her with a small smile. Bucky motioned for Sam and Scott to grab the two men, who gladly grabbed them.

“Don’t worry about it, are you alright?” He asked, true concern for the unknown woman.

She quickly nodded, “Thanks to her, Your Majesty!” she averted her eyes from him, trying to show respect as she clung to you for support

“That would be y/n, my fiancé, and your future Queen,” you shot him a glare, he was teasing the poor woman, who was still recovering from shock. She yelped, trying to pull from your arms to try to curtsy again, mortified she was treating her future queen with such disrespect.

You gripped onto the woman, determined not to let her fall on her face, “Now, now, no need for all of that. Are you truly alright? What was your name?” You still shot Bucky a disapproving glare at his antics, he just grinned, responding with a playful smirk.

“Y-yes, Your Highness. My name’s So-Sophia,” She rushed out, still terrified.

You gently soothed her, brushing the dirt off her dress, “It’s alright Sophia, I’m a princess but I’m still human, no need to go senseless on me. Now, where you going when you were attacked.”

“The market, Your Highness,” Sophia didn’t drop the title, but she was in shock, so you let it go.

“Perfect, I’ll send one of the guards to accompany you there then back home, until you’re safe, alright Sophia?” You gently fixed her cloak, still smiling supportively towards her.

She shook her head, “It’s alright, milady, I’ll be fine. Thank you so much for your generosity, and for saving me.” She looked a bit more stable, the shock most likely dying down.

“Of course, my job isn’t just to lead the people, it’s to protect them. I am only doing what is right. If that’s all, and you’re sure you would be fine alone again, then I wish you safe travels and a wonderful rest of your day.” You let your hands drop from her sides, done fixing her up.

Sophia grinned and nodded quickly, “Of course, Your Highness, you as well, gods bless you,” she walked past Bucky, quickly curtsying with a “Your Majesty,” before disappearing into the crowds.

Bucky whistled again in awe, a cheeky grin on his face, “You’re a natural, and that right hook! Gods you’re perfect,” he said in wonder. You hissed softly, pain radiating from your knuckles now that the adrenaline was wearing off. He quickly came closer, picking up your hand delicately. Your knuckles were bloody, a small cut on them but most of the blood was from the men, and the beginning of a bruise was discoloring the skin. He pressed a soft kiss to your palm, “Let’s get you cleaned up and go home,” he led you back out the alley, holding your hand to his chest protectively.

“Bucky, my hand is fine, should be more worried about that guy’s face, I hit him with the royal ring without realizing it.” He looked again towards your hand, sure enough, your golden ring was splattered with a bit of blood.

He chuckled, “Gods you’re absolutely amazing,” he mumbled, kissing your wrist. He glanced towards your left hand, which only had a simple golden ring on your thumb, a gift from Steve when you were younger. Your ring finger was noticeably empty, but he didn’t say a word about it, already tugging you back towards the horses.

A few short hours later, you arrived at the castle grounds. The sun was setting, lighting up the surrounding mountain tops with beautiful shades of pink and purple. You dismounted Dermot, fixing your blouse after handing the reigns to one of the stable keepers, as it was clear you couldn’t ride with the night falling. Bucky did the same, before offering his hand to you. “We’re home, My Queen,” he kissed your temple as you took his hand, happily following him inside.

The guards and maids were lined up, quick to bow to you both, though you noticed they were mostly bowing towards you. You blushed, not used to all the attention, as you were usually just someone who might be on the throne, yet here you were someone who was going to be on the throne. “Please see to it that all of Princess Y/n’s personal belongings are in the Queen’s chambers,” Bucky said to one of the maids, who curtsied with a responded “Your Majesty” before rushing off. He then turned to you, “Would you like to do anything tonight, My Love?” You were too busy taking in the castle, it had been years since you had been here, and it was lovelier than you remembered, but it felt so cold. Not in the literal temperature sense, as it was still summer, but the entire castle walls felt void of something. It took you a few minutes before you realized it, Love.

Turning towards Bucky, you gave him a small smile, “I thought we could get settled in, just relax,” you laced your hands together over your stomach, a habit formed from wearing tight corsets.

Bucky nodded, “Of course.” He offered you his arm, smiling as you took it, following him, arm in arm. “Would you mind sleeping in my bed tonight, doll? I’m dreadfully sorry, but your chambers aren’t ready yet,” he was blushing, bashful.

You giggled, tightening your grip on his arm, “I’d love that.” As Bucky led you through the castle towards his chambers, you noticed how the feeling of dread from the foyer seemed to be a running trend. These walls were simply shelter, not a home. You wanted to change that. Caught up in taking in the empty halls, you didn’t notice you were already at the doors to the king’s chamber. It looked similar to your chambers back home, only these chambers style was darker and much bigger. The size of the room made you felt small, and the fact that there seemed to be minimal decorating made it feel more like a guest room than a permanent residence. The bed was lined with slightly thicker furs than the bed back home. No.you corrected yourself. The bed back in the South. This bed was a navy blue, intricate designs embedded in silver.

You sat on the edge of the bed, Bucky stepping away from you for a moment as you took in the room. Everything in the room screamed of pure ice, sending a small chill down your spine. Determination started to set in your head, you were most definitely changing the pure feeling of dread these palace walls held. The balcony is what caught your attention next, the view outside the windows was of the valley in between the mountains, a lake in the middle, the setting sun reflecting oranges and pinks into the water.

“Y/n/n?” Bucky called out, you turned your head, caught up in the view. He was kneeling on one knee in front of you, gently taking your hand and cleaning the blood off your knuckle from earlier. “The view is beautiful isn’t it?”

“Definitely different than I’m used to, but in a good way. I like it, I’m more of a sunset then sunrise person myself,” you nodded, sending him a small smile.

He grinned, “I’d thought you would like it. Just wait until you see the stars in a few hours.” He finished cleaning off your hand, tossing the towel towards the wastebasket.

“I noticed you didn’t change the castle much since we were younger,” you spoke just above a whisper, wanting to address the distantness the entire place felt like, knowing kings tended to renovate and redecorate the castle once they took the throne.

He lost his smile, sighing softly. “Yeah, it didn’t feel right. I was… a little emotionally distant when I got back.”

“A little?” you teased, making him smile faintly.

“Okay, a lot. Bad headspace, and bad coping mechanisms.” He shrugged, not meeting your eyes as he bit his lip. “I think I should tell you what happened now. All of it.”

You gently took his hands in yours, “Like I said earlier, you don’t have to, and if you do, I’ll be right here for you, My Love.” You spoke firmly, making sure he could hear your conviction.

“Get ready for bed, doll, then I will tell you as much as I can,” he stood, kissing your head lightly before going towards a drawer to change himself. He froze, sighing softly, his hands rubbing his face as he thought aloud, “Your clothes aren’t here yet, are they?”

You laughed, jumping up to stand beside him. “I can borrow some sleepwear, Bucky, relax.” You grabbed one of his shirts, and his pajama pants, already heading towards the bathroom to change. You quickly changed, and after a second of hesitation, decided to take your bra and undergarments off as well. Now, only in panties and Bucky’s oversized shirt, you tried pulling on his pajama pants. You groaned, no matter how tight you pulled the strings, it wouldn’t fit and kept falling. You gave up, folding them and placing them on top of the rest of your clothes. “Hope you're decent!” you called out before walking out of the bathroom, tugging the oversized shirt down. It hit your midthigh, but you felt exposed, especially as Bucky, now in pajamas as well, looked you up and down, his eyes going dark as he chuckled.

“Pants didn’t fit, huh?” You shook your head with a small shrug. You placed the clothes on the desk in the large room before joining Bucky on the bed. He wrapped a blanket around your shoulders, smiling softly as you nuzzled into the furs. “Before I start to tell you, I just want to warn you. It’s not pretty, and I respect you and don’t want to lie to you or sugar coat it. I’m not sure how much either of us can take before I’ll need to stop, but if it becomes too much, please, let me know?” He gave you a sad smile, holding onto your hands tenderly.

“Bucky, I’m not a child, I can handle it. I promise but promise yourself the same thing, don’t push yourself too far.” You squeezed his hands lightly, giving him your full support and attention.

He nodded, sighing softly as his gaze dropped to your interwoven hands, already putting himself into the headspace needed to tell you the truth. “Then let’s begin, all the way at the beginning.”

----

Frozen Heart Tags:

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@lumar014

@littlemissporter

@kaylaphantomhive

@damnbuckyishot

@aveatquevale-

@booksbeforebois

@marvelgirl7

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Bucky Tags:

@cassandras-musings

For a tag, just reply/comment, if I don’t see it, just message me. Tell me what you think! Literally, any comment makes me happy! Like, comment, reblog, interact <3

I will be going on vacation for 10 days with no wifi so if I Don't see your comment, MESSAGE ME!!

#bucky x reader #james buchanan barnes x reader #bucky barnes #royalty au #frozen heart #King!Bucky #Princess!reader #badass!reader

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mividadelicioso · 4 years

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El Ano de Treinta

First post here...in a long time anyways. If I were being honest, my last Tumblr of decades ago turned into this soft porn type feed. It’s easier to get to that place then you think lol. First it starts with beautiful things as something to choose for your feed, or clothes, and at some muddled point down the line, there are half naked peeps (amongst other things) just popping up on your feed. In any case, that’s not why I ghosted. I ghosted, because like many things, but especially my writing, I just lost the juice of any kind to use my words via ink or typing, (rather).

So you may be wondering to yourself, or...more realistically, not be giving a shit at all, as to why I am back in this wordy black hole. Well, really, a conglomeration of things that I’ll slowly vomit out onto this virtual paper, but to nutshell it, I’m losing my mind during this quarantine...losing my fucking sanity, as I would assume, everyone else is. However, for me, it’s more than just this quarantine situation (which, by the way, is incredibly insane to think about, but I digress atm), somehow, someway, (of course in my life), all these events just happen to coincide in a very important year of my life, hence the name. I basically spoiler-ed this post for you (you’re welcome for those of you that have no patience to wait until the end).

I never thought that the ripe old? young? age of 30 would be a big deal to me; I mean, sure, everyone makes lofty goals for that age, that I would almost dare to say, 90% of the population never accomplish, but it just never worried me that the inevitable would come. It WOULD come, like every birthday, and then it would pass, like every birthday, without cause or concern. So what happened? (You might be asking yourself, OR you MIGHT not be caring at all. I mean, who really cares about a strangers’ musings? AMIRITE?). I don’t know, dude...or dudette. The truth is, this quarantine has forced me to sit in my apartment, shut off from distraction, and has forced an OVERTHINKER and an OVERANALYZER to overthink and overanalyze. It has, shall we say, created the perfect storm for this. Of course, the usual shit bothers me about this birthday; like, I had put together a meager list of goals a long time ago, if you could call them such, and as is the purpose of a list of goals, none were accomplished. Typical? Yes. Normal? Yes. A reason to have mental moments (I will always refer to breakdowns of any kind, as ‘mental moments’)? No. And yet, here I am, friends of Tumblr, have now had a mental moment over this seemingly significant double digit. You’re probably wondering what that list was; yes, I thought about this myself, because truth be told, this last hasn’t actually been present in my mind at all, recently (PROBABLY why nothing has really been accomplished).

**LIST OF GOALS: 30th Birthday**

-Go to Ireland (always been a dream of mine to visit)

-Be far along in my career (this is about as fucking unspecific as it gets lol)

-Be financially stable (i.e. have savings and shit)

-Pay something towards student loan, bc them government fuckers will find you

TADA! This was my list, ladies and gents. SHOCKING, I know. The length of it...just straight obnoxious. And TBH, none have been accomplished. TECHNICALLY, the second point does not count, because I switched jobs about 4 months ago...made moves as they say. Now, were those moves, MONEY moves? No...(had to make a rap song reference, don’t hate). Please, judge, and then judge away some more. I mean, listen, I have a 401K collecting moneys SOMEWHERE, and I can always still go to Ireland later this year. The irony of THAT particular point is, that I’m on furlough with my job, and the flights have never been fucking cheaper...but I am at a point, where I am FORCED to not spend frivolously. Although I am blessed with a boyfriend, who will be mentioned in a later post, that handles most of the major finances. Not because I’ve asked, (believe me, I have fought him on this...independence and such), but he thinks it’s his duty as the dude, I guess. But still, can’t be spending money that I may need down the line, should this godawful virus continue to ravage the U.S. (STAY HOME PEOPLES. FUCKING MAKE A BLOG...like me).

In any case, coming face to face with an un-checkmarked list is quite possibly one of the most depressing things ever. So on top of me going out of my mind, and worrying about the health of my friends and family and significant other, I am also confronting the daunting age of 30, as well as, an unrealized list of goals.

Boohoo, boohoo, right? I resonate with your unsympathetic sentiments as well, but isn’t one of the benefits of blogging on the internet, that you can throw yourself as many endless pity parties as you want and no one can say a goddamn thing. That was definitely a rhetorical question, said in the most un-grammatically correct way ever. God, I love the internet.

I will continue to rant about this further later on, but for now, I will say, that the only resolution I have come up with for this ‘mental moment’ I had about my list of un-accomplishments, is to create...and dare I say it...A VISION BOARD. Yes.

God. I. Said. It. A FUCKING vision board, people. I’m about to get DIY up in this bitch...cause...not like I have anything else to do, right?

Ending this post with some photos of tonights’ dinner. My spin on fried rice w/ asparagus, carrots, and corn as the veg component and some general tso’s chicken I baked in the oven. Despite the potential health hazards food can pose, when consumed in large proportions, I do believe in food therapy, people. BELIEVEEEEE IT. Hashtag it folks, FOODTHERAPY...unless someone created that hash already, in which I can further add that to my list of failings for my grand ano de TREINTA.

-Foodie OUT-

P.S. Don’t go all Sherlock Holmes and stock a hoe through my food photos. KTHX.

#delicious #food #rants #quarantine #fried rice #asianfood #birthdays #oldlady #satirical #darkhumor #ohiolife

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amandaj718 · 5 years

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Robert Sugden and Ryan Hawley (Feelings...Lots of Feelings)

I remember one of my favorite ships from Gossip Girl. They were Dan and Blair, and they were never meant to be. They were a crack ship along the sea of canon that I clung onto like my life depended on it. Then one day, they started having scenes together. Hanging out. Talking. Scheming together. Soon, my favorite pairing went from crack ship to canon within half a season. They started dating. It was nice, but it didn’t last. Not at all. I like to think it lasted a long time, but all their scene adds up to about half a season of content. They ended horribly too. Bitter even.

That didn’t stop me, though. Long after Dan and Blair started pretending either one existed, and long after the show finished production, I still reblog their scenes. Talk about what could have been. Even read fanfiction and watch fanvids that people still write/edit seven years later.

What was the point of that story?

As you all know, Ryan Hawley aka Robert Sugden is going to be leaving us (more on that later), and it has been a whirlwind of emotions. We all are going through it, and I’m right there with all of you. I went through the stages (here are the ones I bounced around):

Denial

It’s the Sun! They are full of shit. I don’t believe it. I will only believe it if the show says it or Danny says something.

Grief

*sobs* Why would he do this?!? Why is this happening? LOOK AT THAT WEDDING GIF SET! *SOBS SOME MORE* LOOK AT HIMMMMMMMMM. *this goes on and on…I won’t bore you*

Anger/Irrational Anger

If they think anyone is going to stand for this…they got another thing coming. I refuse to see Aaron with anyone else. They think they can replace him? Who the hell do they think they are! The ratings ARE SO going to tank.

Acceptance

We knew this was coming. Its fine that Ryan wants to do other things. Its just common sense and not the first actor/actress to do this. It will be ok.

So…now that I am in a mellow and stable mood, I figured I’d write down what exactly I was feeling.

Does it hurt? Yes. Was it always going to happen? Yes. Was I prepared for it? No. I should have been. I’m not new to soaps. I know how this works. Yes, I was blindsided. I am truly embarrassed to admit (as 31 going on 32 year old woman) that I kept bursting out into tears yesterday as I reblogged Robron gifs thinking it would make it better. I was mourning them like they were already gone. Maybe I was mourning the fandom too knowing full well this would slow down too. Maybe even die out. I wasn’t in a good place or thinking clearly.

Then I woke up and I was angry. I was pissed off that Duncan was running his mouth and trying to sell another couple while other people were upset. I was annoyed the show wouldn’t confirm and even more upset that Danny hadn’t said anything. Everyone was upsetting me.

Then I took a nap, and it all seemed clearer when I woke up. Maybe my mind and body went to went through the anger and sadness for me while I slept, but I woke up mellow and accepting. Here is what I am accepting about:

We have time. He isn’t out the door tomorrow or even next month. We have time. Lots of time to see more of Robert and Aaron being husband. Lots of time to see any of Robert’s schemes or jokes towards the Dingles. We have time.

We should be happy at what we got. What we have yet to receive. Cherish this time and enjoy Robert and Ryan for as long as we can. In turn, lets enjoy Robert and Aaron while we can. We can smile through the tears. Don’t let the fact there is a clock over all our heads effect how you watch.

It makes perfect sense that Ryan wants to try and do something else. He isn’t the first actor to do this on the show. Jeff, Emma and Danny spring to mind. Ryan is a great talent that might be back, or he might make it big. We can say we knew him when if he does. If he ends up back on the show, we can expect fireworks (especially if Danny is still around).

Yeah, I might fall back out of acceptance and go back to grief or anger a few times. It’s part of it. The show survived before and will survive after but we will remember a character that became someone we bonded over and fell in love with. He was one half of a power couple that shook up the show for the better and made Robert Sugden a more complex character in the process. Building off what the previous actors have done well before and making him a bigger legacy than anyone expected.

So…yeah. We are losing someone on the show that really left a mark. In many ways. I’m going to miss him. A lot. Danny/Aaron may have brought me into Emmerdale, but Ryan/Robert is what made me stay (also the power of Robron too). I’m going to miss him and Robron.

HOWEVER

Its not happening today. Its not happening tomorrow. I’m going to enjoy him on screen. I’m going to enjoy all the husband moments we get. I’m going to enjoy every smile and cry. Fight. Time is precious. Lets smile than cry. Also, in my eyes, no matter what happens in the future, Robert and Aaron are soulmates. Each other’s home. At the end of the day, everyone returns to their home.

So…yeah. That’s where I stand. I WROTE AN EMABRESSING AMOUNT OF WORDS FOR AN ACTOR LEAVING A SOAP. Hey…what can I say…I’m wordy bitch who loves and falls hard.

Wait…what was up with that story I told in the beginning? Well, that story has to do with fandom. Remember when I said I was mourning the fandom, as well as Ryan, leaving? Well, the Robron fandom is full of eclectic, hilarious, talented, and crazy people. When the content stops coming, …what will become of fandom? Yes, it will die down because life moves on, but there will always be someone here. Writing that fanfiction. Making those fanvids. Starting rewatch events. Keeping an eye out for any news, Ryan is on his way back. The show will still be there for all of us to talk about. Life does go on, and so does fandom. It won’t be at a fever pitch, but it won’t die. I must remember that myself.

I also have to say that this fandom is the first one to get me to write again, analyze content critically and with a sarcastic flair, and enjoy watching soaps again. There were times I wanted to throw fandom out the window, but we all have those moments. I couldn’t imagine not finishing this story out without everyone that has ever been in this fandom. We all need to be there to the bitter end. It’s the best way to go out. Smiles and tears to the bitter end.

I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to keep writing. Keep watching. Keeping analyzing until I can’t anymore. That might not be for a long time because like I said, I love hard. I don’t leave easily.

So…yeah. Let’s do this.

#Ryan Hawley #Robron #Emmerdale #Finally wrote down my feelings #I sound like a loon #sorry

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weaponizedembrace · 5 years

Text

Mission Report

RULES:

Basics:

Mun is Winter (they/them, 35+). DNI if you’re under 20.

Bucky and Steve are MCU and HC based, with some comics influence.

Bigots of any stripe will not be tolerated.

I will not follow rp blogs that do not have a statement of the mun’s age and basic tagging.

I love duplicates, and I’m happy to do same muse threads!

I do not enforce reblog karma strictly, but please be considerate and don’t blast my notifs without ever sending anything.

Writing/interactions/formatting/etc:

I am MUTUALS ONLY for IC interaction!

Thread tracker links are HERE, along with all relevant info.

No major godmodding without discussion. You guys know the deal.

2-5 paragraphs is the sweet spot for me for plotted/continued threads, and sometimes I get on a roll and write novels for people. You don’t have to match my lengths, but don’t give me 3 sentences when I write 3 paras, you feel?

I dislike conversation splicing and will reply in a way to minimize it wherever possible. If we’re writing long threads and you’re unhappy with/don’t understand my style of reply, please talk to me. We might do better with shorter things in that case.

I am picky about child OCs and relatives of my muses, esp when a child OC’s backstory assumes a romantic/sexual relationship my muse had in the past.

I have a tendency to tense switch between past and present. If that’s going to bother you... move along?

Muse =/= mun.

I don’t require formatting or icons for interaction. That’s bullshit.

Dropping threads happens if I get overwhelmed or overly stressed, and I might not tell you. Relationships developed in said threads remain.

My reply speeds vary greatly, from immediate to months later. You can reply at any speed you want to, but I do archive threads on a semi-regular schedule (see tracker link above for details).

There are a few fcs that I do not like for various reasons, but I will never shame/harass anyone for using a canon fc. I am, however, unlikely to want to interact with the following fcs as OCs or alts: Scarlett Johansson, Gwyneth Paltrow, Jeremy Renner, Chris Pratt, RDJ, Hayley Atwell, Jared Leto, Gal Gadot, Jennifer Lawrence, and probably others.

Messaging/Inbox:

Feel free to send me ooc/character development/positivity/etc and spam my inbox, whether we’re mutuals or not!

IC asks from your muse are for mutuals only.

Mutuals can feel free to continue asks as long as you move it to a new post (tell me if you genuinely can’t).

Asks are sometimes deleted for the same reason threads get dropped. It’s not personal! Feel free to send more at any time!

Please don’t send messages like “hi” or “wanna rp?” with nothing else.

Discord is available for mutuals for both ooc and ic.

I have pretty bad unmedicated ADHD, so I forget ooc conversations are happening sometimes. It’s always helpful (though obvs not required) if people poke me occasionally, esp if I’ve dropped off the face of the earth in our chat.

Shipping/Smut/Etc:

GENERAL: 1) Shipping is one of my favorite things. I am a ship whore, with chemistry. 2) Both muses are bi, and Bucky is not cis. 3) If you are feeling chemistry between your muse and mine, please tell me! If you already know you ship your muse with mine before we even start writing, tell me that too! I can’t promise chemistry, but it gives me a direction to go. 3) If you send me a shippy/smutty meme and we’ve never discussed either, my muse may respond in a way that might not be positive. 4) This blog is pro-selfcest. I’ll always try to remember to tag it with “selfcest tw”.

REGARDING CANON SHIPS: I never do canon ships as they are in canon. 1) The romantic history between Bucky and Natasha as portrayed in the comics is tricky for me, as I don’t believe a brainwashed POW who doesn’t even know who he is is capable of true informed consent. I am open to plotting shared history, though, that may or may not include a past relationship, depending on mun comfort level with each other and with uncomfortable subject matter. 2) For EG related threads, Steve is divergent and did not stay in the past with Peggy. 3) I do not acknowledge Steve and Sharon’s mcu relationship beyond being neighbors/friends, but DO acknowledge their solid comics relationship and am open to shipping them with chemistry.

AUTOSHIPPING: 1) Steve/Bucky is the only thing I will autoship with muns I don’t know well, but I prefer at least a little ooc chat first. 2) If desired, I will assume Steve/Peggy romantic shipping as far as the context of The First Avenger (they loved each other, but never dated and only kissed once). Beyond that requires writing/discussion and chemistry.

SMUT: I like writing smut, if muses are muns are comfortable with each other and of age, though I will get bored if it’s all we write. Do not expect either muse to be DTF in our first thread, though it may occasionally happen.

Triggers/Tagging/Etc:

Canon-typical violence/blood/etc. will not be tagged.

I will try to remember to tag nsfw, and for other triggers as “trigger tw”. Message me if I’m missing something I need to tag.

This blog is SALTY regarding the ending of Endgame. I will tag “anti endgame” and “endgame salt” when I feel like bitching about it.

Misc:

Most icons come from famira, stuffsebastianstan (base), booboostewartofrps, seruminfused, Berks, and Sways. Blog background is an edit by me using comics art credited to Rod Reis, Steve Epting, Michael Lark and JP Leon. Do not steal.

I do not send in passwords. I have read your rules if I followed you, and if I accidentally break one, I’m human. Please tell me.

I know my rules are long because I’m a wordy bitch, but thank you very much for taking the time to read them. I appreciate you. :)

#rules #taking all the stupid with me || ooc

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