#I have so many specific little ideas but they’re all almost stories themselves and I didn’t have the time to put them here lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gossip-girl-of-middleearth · 2 years

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HI I don’t know if your request are open so I figured I would send one anyway and then if they were closed you could just ignore it lol

BUT I had this idea and it’s been in my head for days and I don’t feel like writing it myself soooooo

Do you think you can do a one-shot or, yk, whatever you’re comfortable with, for a Legolas x Reader where the reader is kinda like Jaskier? Like they’re dramatic af, are a bard, and isn’t an elf but has somehow just been alive and in peak condition for way longer then they should’ve been? Like Legolas and Reader don’t really get along at first when they met because Reader was traveling with Thorin and Company and stuff and even after he figured out they weren’t bad he was still like “my GOD are they annoying.”

And then Gandalf seeks them out after the fellowship is formed they’re actually super useful bc they know like 10 languages, have traveled almost everywhere, and is actually very good with a sword. Gandalf brings the fellowship to a seemingly random tavern and Legolas just stops bc he recognizes them immediately and is just like “oh my god, PLEASE NOT THEM FU—“

But yk after that they like fall in love and shiz 🙄

SORRY THIS IS LIKE SO SPECIFIC OR UR NOT TAKING REQUEST it’s just I love ur writing, no other lotr blogs I’ve found are taking request, and also you seem to like Jaskier so I figured u might enjoy this a little ?? 😭😭

ANYWAYS EVEN IF YOU DON’T WRITE THIS THANKS FOR READING IT AND I LOVE UR WRITING SM ITS SO GOOD 🫶🏻🫶🏻

Sing Me A River (Legolas x Bard! Reader)

Author’s Note: HELLOOOO, FELLOW DEAR HEART! My requests technically are always open, it’s just a matter of if I ever get around to them lmao. Naturally, I get a lot of requests. Even more naturally, someone requests something and throws the word ‘Jaskier’ in there I’m writing this baby ASAP. Now, this thing grew legs of its own so you’ll probably have to request a part two in the asks so I can get that to you. I just really wanted to put something out tonight, so boom, two-parter. Maybe three. Hey, let’s just see where it goes. Now, believe me when I say I tried to find a gif that wasn’t Jaskier, but apparently if you type in ‘medieval bard lute gif’ into Google images Jaskier is the golden child of the hour. Anywhooooo hope this is what you were going for! I’ll get onto part two soon — you just gotta put it in the asks!

Warnings: Crude jokes made by reader all for the sake of the guts and glory of an epic banger of a song. Mentions adult content. (Bards will be bards).

Synopsis: Like all relevant characters of Middle-earth back in the day, you joined the Company on their Go-Fund-Me campaign to reclaim Erebor. You were a nobody bard back then but the success of your relations with kings and stories of defeating dragons made you a big hit. Speaking of hit, you and Legolas don’t get on. You made one too many hits about him that painted his royal family in a bad light. Oops. Now, Sauron is back and the Fellowship may just need your help. It’s mostly just Gandalf vouching for you, though. Oh, and fangirl Boromir ofc. They find you singing a frankly defamatory song about Legolas in a lively tavern at the height of your fame (you’re essentially One Direction circa 2012 big in Middle-earth in this fic). Tension brews as you’re ultimately asked to join a second Go-Fund-Me campaign.

The evening was late in hour but early of chores, as Gandalf and Elrond poured themselves over maps of Middle-earth. Various members of the newly-formed Fellowship hung about the open-aired room, pondering each other with curious glances.

Everyone shifted uncomfortably, wondering who’d prove to be the best travel mate for the next few months. It was as if no one knew what to do with their hands or feet, as they stood about awkwardly.

What was there to talk about, anyway? Economic investments and the rising housing crisis in the wake of the upcoming war? With so many races in the room, it was hard to navigate cultural customs, let alone figure out who was of what social standing based on clothing alone. A prince certainly had no place discussing such mutual matters with a gardener, nor a Captain of Gondor with a ranger.

No, it was best everyone waited until Gandalf and Elrond announced a travel route.

“This would steer you best from the path of both Isengard and its scouts,” Elrond concluded, pointing and dragging one finger down the tattered map.

“That’ll bring us into long-overrun townships,” Gandalf pointed out. “Middle-earth is no longer the safely presumptuous-centric land it used to be. People from all over Arda have now flocked for its resources and previously-thought safety.”

“Secrecy is best bought when surrounded by languages that cannot understand you nor you them,” Elrond countered, raising a brow and looking up at the wizard.

Gandalf raised a hand and scratched at his wiry beard. “No… But perhaps we could benefit from an additional team member for the passage? One who knows, say, ten languages across the seas and land underfoot?”

Elrond’s face quickly fell into disapproval. He moved back from the map as if standing too close to it would conjure up the bard’s presence alone, for said bard certainly dwelled somewhere within it, if the local posters unceremoniously plastered on historical podiums in Rivendell detailing the latest show were proof enough alone.

Legolas noticed this behaviour and kicked himself off the wall. He’d had run-ins with bards before – or, one, at least, and one was certainly enough. He quit twirling a knife in his hands, a gift from his father for his begetday long ago, and paid close attention.

“Ten languages would most certainly aid you, but…” the usually reserved lord made a face of cringe, “must you really bring along your friend? Do you even know where they are?”

Gandalf suddenly looked bashful. He reached into his satchel and removed a flyer. It had your pouty face on it and colourful words detailing where your next show was and the date. “I meant to visit them for one of their shows, before getting side-tracked…”

Elrond tried to not judge his friend, as he glanced up from your poster and back to Gandalf. He raised his brows and sighed, resigning himself to the idea. You had certainly grown in fame over the last few decades since your efforts in fighting the dragon fueled your reputation and songs, and certainly the fame had added to your already eccentric ego.

“Very well, if that is your will, I will support it… Just, don’t invite them back for a concert, please; my sons are still recovering from the last one, as is my winery.”

Gandalf nodded at the lord and smiled. “Nonsense, our bard is of the utmost integrity. I have nothing but faith.”

Legolas looked between the lord and wizard, quirking a brow. He tried to view the poster before it was placed back inside the satchel, but alas Gandalf unknowingly blocked his view.

But then, the prince suddenly recalled you in full detail from the fight against the dragon, and your time spent in the Mirkwood dungeons. You were clearly mortal, and that was many years ago.

Satisfied with the thought, Legolas nodded to himself in reassurance. There was no way you were still alive and kicking. With any luck, you were fast asleep in a chair somewhere, millions of leagues away.

Oh, you were in a chair alright. Except standing on top of it, one foot on the backrest and one on the seat. You certainly weren’t asleep, either, nor was your performance lulling anyone into such a slumber. There would be no lullabies here tonight, good sir.

Instead, on top of the chair, you belted out lyrics to the song you wrote about your time captured in Mirkwood with the Company, using the foot on the backrest to push the chair downwards, where you dramatically landed on the floor and kept on playing around the lively tavern with your lute.

Folks of all nationalities and origins joined in, for how could they not? You knew how to play the song in over ten different languages and were finally onto the Common Speech version. Everyone sung along as you made your way around the floor, illuminated in a thousand different arrays of golden candlelight.

You alluded to the Mirkwood Elves being absolute idiots, to put it lightly. It was only unfortunate that the Fellowship, led by Gandalf, walked in the moment you made a crude innuendo about Legolas’ hair being nearly as pasty as the spider’s webs surrounding his forested home. Something about incest, too.

It wasn’t very nice, but what could you say? You hated the pretentious white-haired family and they you. Perhaps composing a ballad with the dwarves about the elves’ wine-stained teeth in the dungeons planted the seed of distaste in the first place, but alas.

Gimli clapped his hands merrily and tapped his foot. “Oh-ho-ho! ‘Tis a CLASSIC back home! I’ve been meaning to meet the bard from my father’s tales for many years now! What an honourable night. Let us drink to it!”

Pippin nodded faster than light at Gimli and then Merry, speaking before racing off with his cousin and dwarven friend to the bar.

“Aye! We’ve heard this one, too! Even all the way out in the Shire!” Pippin looked up at Legolas, who’d just walked in with Aragorn right behind him. “Funny, I didn’t know there were other white-haired elves such as yourself and your father in Mirkwood, your highness. What are the chances of that!”

Just then, you sung of Legolas by title and name, confirming every crude lyric to be indeed about him towards the end of the song. Something mean about his father, too.

Pippin’s mouth parted and his brows shot up in surprise. He quickly shrugged it off, though – looking up at the elf casually before joining Merry and Gimli by the bar. “Oh, they are singing about you! That makes more sense!”

Legolas furrowed his own brows, looking away from the departing hobbit and across the tavern right as you came to the finale of the song, earning rapturous applause. And then, his eyes grew wide.

Gandalf looked bashful as he stood with Boromir. The captain was grinning at your performance – whistling as you took a dramatic bow as the cheers carried on. Frodo and Sam looked between each other but shared a silent nod, and afterwards, they joined the rest at the bar.

Seething, the prince snapped his gaze up at Gandalf. “THEM? Are you SERIOUS? How could you possibly not tell me?! They are the most arrogant, dim-witted, crude, annoying—”

“Now, now, Legolas,” Gandalf cut in, placing a hand on the swiftly rising elf’s shoulders. “Y/n and yourself may have an… adverse history, but that whole Mirkwood incident was put to rest years ago. If I recall, you both parted ways amicably at the end of the battle. There may have even been a smile, too, if I recall very well!”

“Overjoyed to be rid, as I remember it,” Legolas rolled his eyes, landing them in your direction. You took a sip of ale and felt a gaze, or, glare, lingering in your direction. When you locked eyes with the angry ones of the prince, you widened them for only a moment, before narrowing them and smirking mischievously.

Oh, he didn’t like that.

Hoisting your sloshing ale out to the side, you widened both arms. You were stood atop a tavern table, now pointing in the prince’s direction.

“Oh, my stars! Do my eyes deceive me?” Your naturally loud voice caught the attention of the tavern again, who all no doubt were hoping for an encore. “Ladies and gentleman, if it isn’t the star of the hour! Well, besides me, of course – but no, I should share the limelight; it’s the muse of my song, Legolas of the Woodland Realm!”

Everyone all looked in his direction. Many laughed loudly, some whistled appreciatively, and others who believed the lyrics muttered behind cupped hands to conceal their words and grins.

Aragorn shifted uncomfortably. It wasn’t good to bring this much attention to themselves, especially given the circumstances. One look from Aragorn sent up at Gandalf voiced his concern. The wizard nodded back and drew you over with a beckoning hand.

You finished off the rest of your ale and encouraged other bards to pick up the music again. Once the sound of flutes and lutes filled the air, you made your way through the crowd, placing your hand over your heart and responding earnestly to every compliment as you walked past.

"Y/n! I saw you play when I was a child!"

"My niece is a HUGE fan!"

"Do you sing at weddings?!"

And soon enough, you were in front of the trio.

“Gandalf the Grey,” you grinned up, slinging your lute across your back.

He responded warmly, throwing your bard title in as he did so. “You’ve exceeded your previous standing upon the pedestal of fame. Apparently, this song has been heard all over the land.”

At the mention of the song, you turned to Legolas. “Ahh, has it now? Judging by the star-struck expression upon your oddly fine-tuned visage, I’m guessing this is your first time?”

Legolas narrowed his eyes and kept them locked on yours. “First and last time.”

Without missing a beat, you replied, “Aw, buddy. Don’t worry. Being a two-thousand-year-old virgin isn’t that weird. Don’t count yourself out just yet.”

His face dropped. “Wha—No! That’s not at all what I—”

“I must say, dear bard,” Boromir cut in, firmly shaking your hand. “My little brother and I have seen you perform in Gondor before, and we are both great admirers of your work. Might I please trouble you for a signature made out to ‘Faramir’? I might not get this opportunity again.”

You shrugged it off coolly. “Yeah, sure! Always happy to meet a fan!”

Legolas stared in horror at the interaction for a moment. “What is happening right now..?”

Aragorn placed a hand on his shoulder and stepped in. “Y/n, I’m afraid we have not only come for review of your work tonight.”

At that, he looked up at Gandalf urgingly. The wizard sighed and nodded. “Indeed not. Might there be somewhere more private we can talk?”

Briefly looking up from the signature you were writing on a handkerchief, you nodded your head from side to side in thought and pursed your lips, speaking as you wrote. “I’ve got a room here. I’m not sure we’ll all fit, but I suppose we can figure something out."

You sent a wink Legolas’ way, whose face was still frozen somewhere between contemplation, shock, and horror.

“You should be dead,” he decided upon moments later.

Feigning alarm, you looked over your shoulder. “Why? The song really that bad? You hired the world’s worst assassin to take me out and they couldn’t even finish the job?”

Learning how to dance with your words again, Legolas replied straight to the point. “You look the same as you did all those years ago. You’re mortal. You should be dead, or very, very elderly, at the least.”

You blinked back at him. “Was there a question in there somewhere, or…?”

Noticing all the attention you were drawing, Gandalf and Aragorn decided to usher this meeting along elsewhere.

“Ah, Y/n,” Gandalf slid in, smiling tensely as he noticed Legolas’ fingers curl backwards, as if instinctively reaching for his bow. “Perhaps we should continue this upstairs? We have much to discuss, as mentioned before.”

You raked your eyes over the prince’s face for a further few seconds. He all but glared back. You dropped your eyes to his hands, noticing the way they curled the same as the wizard did. Smirking, you looked back up into the prince’s eyes – locking them there as you responded to Gandalf.

“Great idea.”

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give-soup-please · 2 years

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AI Narrator x Reader AU

A lovely anon has created something for us to read. I have their permission to post it here. It's a prompt and a rough outline of a story. This is a long post, so I'll put it under a read more. (trust me, it's very much worth the read) And again I want to emphasise that I didn't come up with this, they did, and they deserve the credit.

(The original prompt)

This prompt is based on one of your older ones about the narrator following the player out of the game, just in this case he is far more cautious about how he approaches it and doesn’t scare the crap out of the player by manifesting right away. (Think of it like instead of what happens in that older prompt where he just kinda acts without thinking or considering how it might scare the player, he’s instead looking for consent to enter the player’s life and just doesn’t know how to go about it because he fears if he moves too fast it will scare the player away.)

Let’s say he figured out how to get out onto the player’s computer and has even started to figure out how to manifest a physical form in the real world, but he is keeping this a secret from the player because he knows how something like this would scare any regular human and make them think they’re going crazy. Still, he has noticed how much this players loves the game and how they seem to play it specifically to spend time with him. At first he starts doing little things within the game, like ever so slightly going off script, just enough to get the player to question it without going overboard. In spite of his efforts to be cautious and slow in his approach, as time passes and he has the game shift and change as he tries to find small ways to communicate, the player does start to wonder if they’re losing it, to a point where they wonder if a friend modded their game as a prank to make them think they’re living out a creepypasta. They stop playing for awhile, something that the narrator feared might happen, and yet he still waits patiently.

When the player does try to play the game again after several weeks, just to make sure they weren’t seeing things, the narrator has had the time to fully plan things out and finally makes his move. He feels like he can’t wait any longer or be subtle after he almost lost the player. At first, everything seems normal, but as the player goes through the game, he slowly drops his usual script and reveals to the player that he is indeed sentient and has been modifying the game for them. He says the player’s name for the first time, having held back until now. He has known their name since the very first time he escaped the game and ended up inside the player’s PC. Needless to say the player is startled and runs out of the room, but after they’ve had a little while to calm down, they admit to themselves that this is something they’ve always wanted, they just can’t believe it’s happening. They go back to find that the game is still running exactly where they left it.

The narrator is surprised to see the player return after he was so sure he scared them off for good. They have a frank conversation with each other. After this, knowing how nervous the player is about all of this, the narrator sticks to only talking with them while they’re playing the game, but as things between them get more comfortable, the player allows him to spend time with them while they’re doing other things on their computer. It takes a long time to work up to this point, but one day he tells the player he knows how to manifest into the real world and has done so before while trying to figure out what his limits are. The player wants this but also fears it because the last few weeks of their life have already felt so surreal and impossible. Many months pass before they finally work up the courage to give him permission.

(The Fanfic Outline Modified From The Prompt)

This fic idea is not meant to be just pure wish-fulfillment fantasy for the reader(although it still mostly is lol). A huge focus would be on the narrator’s character development and how he’s trying to find his way in the world as seemingly the only instance of himself out of many copies of the game who somehow ended up becoming sentient. The romance with the reader is a big aspect, of course, but not the entire focus. I love going in to the technical aspects of how something like this would work and all of the issues that would pop up. This fic would be filled with those kind of details. Yeah, it’s technically technobabble magic AI stuff, but everything that happens is given some sort of explanation for how it happens, even if it’s sci-fi magic.

The fic would open with the narrator giving his speech at the end of the figurine ending about how the game has gotten old and he’s ready to move on, even if it means being alone again. He waits for the player to complete their ‘one last run’ of the office, but of course the player continues to play for longer than just one more ending. He continues to act out his role even as his thoughts are entirely focused on wondering what will become of him now since his memories of what it was like 'before this whole story got started’ are very limited. When the player does finally shut the game off, he decides it’s time for him to go. He looks over the game one last time, thinking this will be the last time he ever sees it, and then he 'goes’, although not even he is quite sure what that entails, just that he does it on an almost instinctual level. Since he doesn’t really know what he is and never has, he wonders if he’ll suddenly wake up as some depressed human with writers block and a boring desk job, or if he is some unspeakable horror beyond human comprehension, or maybe he’s just some man in a recording booth. Nothing like that happens though, he just finds himself among even more data than what he’s used to. With much confusion, it takes him a while to figure out where he is and what he is. Seemingly an AI inside the game player’s computer.

During this period of discovery, he causes the player’s PC to act up quite a bit and the reader is left wondering what the heck is going on. The only thing that keeps him from reaching out and trying to communicate with the player right then and there is his inexperience making it impossible. He soon finds himself back in the game when the player boots it up a day or two later. It’s at this point that it truly hits him that there really is a 'Real Person’ behind Stanley’s movements and a world so much bigger out there than his limited game world. He wants to talk to this person more than anything, but even with his limited understanding he can put two and two together that any human would freak out and think they’re going crazy if a video game character started to go off script and talk to them.

Cue the rest of the prompt playing out, minus the manifesting part, and while I wrote the prompt to be romantic from the get-go, I see a long form story like this having a lot more build up toward the romance. I think he would not recognize his feelings for what they are right away, and the player themselves would be in deep denial of the fact that they’ve had a crush on this video game character the entire time while they’re already struggling with feeling like they’ve gone crazy since this disembodied voice started speaking to them personally.

Before the manifestation stuff would occur, I think there would be more of an exploration of what he is capable of as an AI. Maybe he isn’t just limited to the PC and can move through other electronics. Time would be spent building up the relationship between him and the reader. I think there would be some awkwardness they’d both have to work through in the early stages. The reader coming to accept that what’s happening is real and the narrator trying to figure out who he is as a person without the confines of the game’s scripting limiting his actions.

I think he would start to become deeply resentful toward the writers of the game, considering how he was written to be so contradictory that even he doesn’t know who or what he really is, and even before he got out, he was dealing with near constant existential feelings of dread. Even when the game wasn’t putting him through a bad time, the endings where he plays the 'villain’ still ultimately come off like he’s projecting his existential feelings onto Stanley, as if the writers were mocking him the entire time. Of course, he would grow to accept it as the story progresses, because were it not for those existential questions the game imposed upon him, he never would have started 'thinking’ and become fully sentient in the first place.

Unlike the prompt, he would not be able to manifest in the real world right away. It would be something he’d develop over time. I could see him going the same route as The Doctor from Star Trek Voyager, where he develops a small, portable piece of tech that projects a hard light hologram that can then be attached to said hologram and that lets him move wherever he wants. He is not limited to a human form. He can become just about any animal he so chooses, and due to his lack of social skills, he actually finds it easier to exist in the outside world as, say, a cat, because then humans don’t expect any social skills out of him aside from 'be cute and get scritches’ or 'be a hissing asshole if no scritches are dispensed’ lol. Still, there would be many fun scenes to be had of human narrator trying to 'person’ properly. Unfortunately, no amount of late night wikipedia article reading would be enough to save him from coming off like a dork who doesn’t know what he’s doing lol.

While he very much enjoys being able to spend time as a human with the reader, he would likely prefer to remain disembodied, since that is the state he is most use to and he Does Not Enjoy Being Perceived lol. He’d probably have some level of social anxiety around that, since he is so unaccustomed to existing in a way where anyone can see him and interact with him, that on top of his other issues with trying to 'person’ correctly, he would be a bit of a nervous wreck the second anything goes 'off script’ (like if someone asked him a question he wasn’t prepared to answer he’d panic and start blurting out facts about shrimp instead lol). His one regret is that he cannot eat since eating looks like so much fun. Well, he can 'technically’ eat, but he can’t taste it and doesn’t get any satisfaction out of it, plus there’s an undigested mess to clean up when his hologram dissipates. Aside from all of the human narrator antics, since the reader was already living on their own, the sudden introduction of their new dorky, british boyfriend who has moved in with them is not so strange to their friends and family.

I could see the reader encouraging him to have his own separate hobbies and interests from the reader. He does not spend every waking moment thinking about the reader, especially now that he knows he doesn’t have to fear losing them. Aside from picking up a few hobbies, he knows that the reader tends to struggle with staying ahead of things money wise, and since the reader works from home, he starts getting ideas and decides he wants to work a job too. He is quite pleased to show the reader his first paycheck, and when the reader asks him what sort of work he took up, he is happy to announce that he has become an audiobook narrator. The reader immediately freaks out, but he is quick to calm them. He already considered exactly what they’re panicking about, that there is another human out there with the exact same voice as his who also makes a living by talking. Knowing that he needs to keep his existence low-key, he used his natural vocal range to come up with an audiobook reading voice that sounds just different enough that nobody will question it.

(A potential scene for the story where Holo-Narrator manifests for the first time)

This moment has been a long time coming. It has taken months and month of planning, failed designs, and testing. The hole-emitter seems as if it is finally ready for prime time testing. While the narrator was the one responsible for the design, creation, and shipment of the various parts, you’ve had a very active involvement in all of this, considering you’re the one with hands and thus the ability to put the parts together. It has been a bit of a learning experience since you’ve been stuck working with such small microchips and other pieces of tech, but the narrator has guided you every step of the way.

You connect the tiny device, tiny enough to fit inside the palm of your hand, to your PC. The narrator begins the upload process. 'See you on the other side’, he says. He has been very excited to reach this moment, to finally and completely exist in that world beyond his game, and to be able to be with you without that computer screen standing between the two of you.

Once your PC signals that the transfer is complete, you take the device into the kitchen and place it down onto the table with the projector side pointing into the living room. And then you wait. Several long minutes pass and you start to fear that something has gone wrong. You’re just considering re-connecting the device to your PC, in case the narrator has found some sort of problem with the device and cannot communicate that to you in his current state, when a fuzzy, humanoid shape flickers into existence in the middle of your living room.

You hold your breath as you watch the figure take shape. It remains floating slightly above the ground, even as its features come into focus. You are stunned. He looks exactly the way you thought and hoped he might. It��s a mix of considerations that he took from you and various preferences that he decided for himself. He has, of course, seen all of the fan art made of him that gave him various human designs, and he couldn’t help but take them into account while designing a model for himself. After having spent so long in the antagonistic push and pull of the game, he was both surprised and flattered to see how many people truly liked him in spite of how the game constantly has him at odds with the player.

His eyes open, but he doesn’t seem to notice you at first. He has a very thoughtful look of concentration on his face as he looks down at his own hands and his own shoes floating above the ground. He mutters out, 'Still making adjustments’ as the this projection of light jitters around a bit and slowly descents toward the floor. When his feet touch the ground, they noticeably create an indent in the carpet. His arms shoot out in both directions as he struggles to keep his balance. He turns and looks toward your PC, the only thing he is familiar with in this strange place with all of its physics and gravity, and he takes a step toward it only to immediately stumble. He reaches out and grabs the desk, using it to steady himself. Once he has himself situated with one hand still holding on to the desk, the rest of himself still shaking somewhat in its unsteadiness, he finally looks to you with the biggest, dumbest grin on his face. 'It works!’ He cheers. 'It works, it works, it works!”

In his excitement, he takes several shaky steps toward you, only to trip. He would have face planted right then in there had you not rushed forward and caught him. With your arms wrapped around his torso, the first thing you notice is how heavy he is, unnaturally so, especially for what amounts to a projection of light, and then you notice how the feel of his clothing is so real you can’t distinguish it from the real thing. You then notice how warm he is, another thing that feels slightly unnatural, but this one you don’t mind. Amazingly, he’s even programmed the model to give off the impression that it’s breathing and you can feel the rise and fall of his chest.

You mention the heaviness to him and how that’s likely what’s tripping him up. He tells you that he is still making various adjustments to the model and he’ll have it right soon enough. You feel the weight ease up and then he pulls back a little, standing of his own accord. Still with the biggest, dumbest, but yet so very warm smile on his face, he grabs your shoulders and looks at you as if he’s taking you in for the first time. Then, laughing, he grabs hold of you like you just like you did for him a moment before. It’s there that you realize just how scarily and unnaturally strong he is, because he hauls you up in his arms with as much ease as if you were no lighter than a feather. Laughing and once again cheering, 'it works!’, over and over again, he spins you around in his arms before pressing you into a very crushing hug with your cheek squished up against his. He gets very quiet after that and you soon realize that both of you may be enjoying this first moment of intimate contact just a little too much.

A minute or two passes and then he slowly lowers you to the ground. He clears his throat with a rather embarrassed look on his face. Stumbling over his words a little, he says that there is still more testing to be done and it’ll be hours before he has fully adjusted to this new form. “Let’s get to it!’ he exclaims, grabbing your hand. As you quickly find out, he can’t seem to get enough of these small moments of contact. If he isn’t finding an excuse to hold your hand, he’ll have a hand pressed up against your back instead, or he’ll stand so close that your arms are always pressed up against each other. You don’t mind, of course, but you do find his quiet embarrassment and attempts to be covert in his need to make contact with you incredibly charming.

(goddamn! this is really good! props to the author!)

#the stanley parable #tsp narrator #headcanon #answered ask #tsp #stanley parable #narrator #tsp narrator x reader

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rachelberryy · 10 months

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Santana Lopez, Gender Performativity, and the Gaze-Death Dichotomy

For @tuiyla

This is a follow-up from this essay on Santana and Bejewelled by Taylor Swift. It also probably looks the way it does because of this post that I read recently.

(I dug out my old university notes for this, because Judith Butler is a GOAT and I felt like going big brain mode)

The top line of my notes on Butler’s gender performativity theory reads, “Gender may be naturalised and taken for granted, but it is still socially constructed and created through the repetition of everyday acts”. As far as I can tell, that isn’t a direct quote, so I’m going to presume it’s a paraphrased summary on my part. It’s the ideological descendant of an idea from Simone de Beauvoir, probably the most influential feminist philosopher of the twentieth century: “One is not born, but rather becomes, a woman.” (Incidentally, the idea of gender as a social construct in western feminist literature goes at least as far back as Mary Wollstonecraft. As per usual, TERFs don’t have a clue what they’re talking about.)

Okay. Let’s talk Santana.

Santana is an Afro-Latina lesbian, and a woman. All of those things are relevant in one way or another. We learn that when she was young, Santana was quite the tomboy, until she was socially conditioned into abandoning that particular persona. Given what we know of her family, I think it’s a reasonable assumption that her abuela had something to do with that. That delivers us to the version of Santana we get for the first season and a half of Glee. She’s a bitch, she’s aggressively sexual, she’s notoriously promiscuous, she’s a cheerleader - the feminine high school archetype. In other words, she’s both a stereotype of the idealised high school popular girl, and a whole bunch of things for which women are typically demonised.

Patriarchy, like all reactionary ideologies, is deeply idiosyncratic, almost by design, and creates these catch 22 situations where women cannot conform or rebel enough, it will hate you anyway, because that is its point. That is complicated by the fact that Santana is a fictional character (and one created by a team of male writers, at that), and therefore is also a construct of the male gaze without any agency of her own. This is doubly true for Santana, who starts out as a side character whose first proper story is as Puck’s ‘woman on the side’, and whose second proper story is sleeping with Finn.

The whole thing is a mess of contradictions, an ill-fitting mess of female stereotypes. Slut, bitch, queen bee (once Quinn is deposed). She’s the opposite end of the ‘fucked up ways in which patriarchy constructs female sexuality’ spectrum to Quinn. She’s also, as we later find out, completely fucking miserable. She’s acting, all the time, allowing the only emotions that slip through the cracks of her walls to express themselves as anger. It’s all, you guessed it, a performance. A version of her that didn’t exist until society forced it to. Those aspects of her - so many of them distinctly gendered - are entirely constructed, against her actual nature.

ii.

And then she quits the Cheerios, realises that she’s a lesbian, and begins to deconstruct herself. Glee is an exceptionally manic show, with so little time afforded to monologues by anyone not named Will Schuester. And yet, at the end of Sexy, Santana is given quite a lengthy one, explaining and exploring her character up to that point. (I can think of one other single moment where the pacing of Glee gives Santana specifically a second to breathe: the pause in the middle of RHI/SLY.) The promiscuity, the bitchiness, the anger at the world. The knives turned out so that they don’t cut inside. So much repressed self-loathing.

Part of the reason that sapphicism broadly and lesbianism in particular are such an affront to patriarchy is because they don’t abide by the rules of the game. In other words, it challenges the way in which patriarchy has determined that womanhood and femininity should be performed. That doesn’t mean, however, that it isn’t a performance, if only because, within Butler’s framework, performing and lying are not the same thing.

As I explained in the previous essay, Prom Queen, conceptually and functionally, is about gender roles in a lot of ways. Kurt bucks gender norms with his outfit choice, by embracing the prom queen title, and by dancing with Blaine at the end of the episode. Quinn, in her desperation to be popular, and validated, and feminine, chases the prom queen crown ruthlessly, because it’s the ultimate prize for a popular girl. Again, like the cheerleading, it’s one of the classic high school archetypes. The whole idea of prom king and queen is so aggressively gendered, obviously. It’s binary, and heteronormative, and rooted in about seventeen different forms of social hierarchy. It’s gender performance taken to the extreme.

The conclusion of Santana’s storyline in that episode is her reconciliation with Brittany, and Brittany telling her that part of why she lost was because people could tell she was hiding something. Exactly who and how many people knew about Santana’s sexuality and when they knew it is something the show can never quite seem to be able to make its mind up on (side eyes at Finn Hudson), but the conclusion in this moment seems to be that the performance has, to some degree, gone awry. Because what use is a performance if nobody believes it? In that moment, it’s Santana’s worst fears about being punished for her transgression come to life - she is performing femininity incorrectly, and therefore she is denied the title that represents patriarchy’s feminine ideal.

iii.

Santana comes out is outed early in season 3, and we finally meet the person who has probably shaped her character - and her performance - more than anybody else we hadn’t met to that point (so, basically, more than anyone but Brittany). Alma Lopez. Abuela.

With some of the crumbs we’re offered up to that point, I don’t think it’s too unreasonable to see Alma’s treatment of Santana to be emotionally abusive - and this is only doubled down upon by her reaction to Santana coming out to her. It’s pretty explicitly stated that Alma is one of the main reasons that Santana is as vicious as she is. In other words, she shaped the performance. She’s clearly a pretty big female role model in Santana’s life, which is why the rejection hurts as much as it does.

The Glee subreddit is home to a wide variety of deeply stupid opinions. That might seem slightly mean, but one can only read so many defences of Finn Hudson objectively bad actions before one becomes slightly cynical. One opinion I’ve seen bandied about on there that I usually don’t have much time for is that Alma herself is a deeply repressed lesbian, largely stemming from the fact that Alma’s main issue with Santana’s sexuality seems to be that she’s willing to live it openly. Its slight difference from the usual ‘hate the sin, love the sinner’ line. I do think it’d be interesting to touch on it here, though. Santana, in many ways, learnt her performance from Alma, which is why her open embrace of her sexuality here - after so much angst and drama - is such an act of defiance, and that’s only doubled with this particular reading of Alma’s reaction.

iv.

While we’re on the subject of Santana’s family background, I’d like to talk briefly on the stereotyping of women of colour in particular, and the way that intersection plays into the idea of gender performativity. Santana’s race and ethnicity are a little ambiguous in certain ways. She refers to Mexican heritage, and Alma has a Dominican flag in her home, if I remember correctly. However, since it’s never explicitly stated otherwise, I’m going to run with the idea that Santana is Afro-Latina, like Naya herself was.

Santana, particularly in her initial presentation (read: performance), very much fits into some of the stereotypes often assigned to Latina women. She’s sexually aggressive and promiscuous. She has a ‘fiery’ personality type. (I’m not overly fond of that word, especially in this context, but I think that’s really kind of the point.) As she says herself, ‘My job here is to look hot.’ Of course, that line can be read shallowly, because I really don’t think Ryan Murphy or any of the lead Glee writers thought that deeply about these things, but most of this essay relies on Death of the Author theory and my reading far more into this story than its creators conceived. It also speaks to Santana’s lack of agency, both in and meta to the narrative itself. She also is hot but w/e

A worthy point of comparison here, I think, is Mercedes, who of all the main characters is probably denied agency the most; who is so infrequently allowed to be much more than a foil to Rachel, both by the writers and, perhaps more depressingly, by much of the fandom, particularly back in Glee’s original heyday. She is also frequently desexualised, again by both the writers and sections of the fandom. There is probably an essay to be written on the variety of reasons that Quinn (thin and white) is read as a lesbian and Mercedes (fat and black) is often read as asexual or earnest in her religious reasons for her celibacy when Quinn’s canon reasons are basically the same. I don’t think all of those reasons stem from those differences, and I definitely don’t want to criticise people for sexuality headcanons that offer them representation - because an asexual, fat, black woman would be kind of revolutionary, if indeed that was what Mercedes was. I also really don’t think I - a white person with half a Bachelor’s degree in Political Science and a Sociology A Level taught by a person for whom I once had to define intersectionality - am the person best suited to write that essay.

Which brings us back to Santana, and the ways in which her ethnicity impact her performance of gender, especially in the first two seasons when that performance is inauthentic. Death of the Author is, again, critical here - and I’m going to talk more about that at the end - but so is Gaze theory and Santana’s multi-layered lack of agency. As with all of the people of colour on Glee, Santana’s race and ethnicity are often ignored until it’s comedically convenient. I’m not saying the jokes don’t always work - Sam’s ‘Quinn once had sex with a Latina lesbian - learned that in glee club!’ comes to mind (I think part of why that works is that it’s one of the only times that it’s explicitly shown that homophobes are often deeply racist as well) - but I think that is notable that that’s often the only time it’s ever seen as worth mentioning. Santana, though played by a woman of colour in Naya, is ultimately a construct of the white men who created her, and it is through their Gaze that she exists. She has no agency in the real world, because she’s a fictional construct, and a distinct lack of agency within the narrative as a queer woman of colour.

So how does all of this relate to gender performativity theory? Said theory might be pithily summarised thus: “Gender is something we do, not something we are.” (I promise I do have a degree, I’m not just copying buzzy phrases from the inside cover of a sociology textbook lmao.) This, then, might fairly easily be mapped onto other socially constructed categories of being. So, how does one do their gender, or race, or ethnicity, or sexuality, when one has no agency of one’s own, when one is entirely a construct of the Gaze of others? When the puppet strings of the performance are juggled and manipulated entirely by someone outside the self? Ironically enough, things become even more of a performance, in multiple ways a construct. Santana the character is constructed, in the same way Santana the person, the queer woman of colour, is. Which is, of course, why critical literary analysis is such an apropos way to explore these ideas, because everything is a constructed performance anyway. And, in this way, we see how Santana’s character is flattened, whether it’s in the vaguely afterthought-like quality to any consideration of her ethnicity, or the wholesale ignoring of her blackness, or the fact that Santana the character, as opposed to Santana the person, is herself a construct.

And then the author dies. More on that in a bit.

Santana has parallels with a lot of characters. Quinn is the obvious one, which is very well-trodden ground analytically speaking - narrative foils, both craving popularity because they can’t just up and admit that they want to be loved, both very gay and very repressed, both in love with Rachel - and season 2 makes Santana’s parallels with Dave quite clear. There are also certain parallels present with Kurt, though - and it’s not just because they’re the two principal queer characters - the two token McKinley gays, as someone put it once.

The relevant mirror here is on expression. Kurt starts out as very experimental, as far as his dress-sense is concerned. It’s also fairly androgynous. “Fashion has no gender,” he tells us. Over the course of the series, however, his fashion becomes more conventionally masculine - not overly so, but certainly more so than at the beginning. In Santana, this shift is even more pronounced. The main windows we get into her fashion is late season 2 and then season 4 and 5 in New York, and while it’s not exactly like her season 2 choices were all that transgressive, they were certainly more experimental than her tight dresses from later on. Now, this isn’t me hating on this style - because girl looks good - nor is it me saying that lesbians can’t adopt a more conventionally feminine sense of style. I would hope that goes without saying. Regardless, I think there’s something worth discussing here where agency is concerned.

Because, of course, Santana isn’t a real person - a real woman and a real lesbian; she’s a construct of a team of male writers. I think the easy explanation here is that the producers got lazy, on a whole range of fronts where costuming was concerned. And that is, at least to an extent, a reasonable line of thinking. To gesture to a fairly straightforward example, after a point they just started having Rachel... mostly just dress like Lea. However, I think there’s a more interesting lens of analysis to be had here where Santana is concerned when we recall that scene where her mother informs us that she was a tomboy growing up. The three points we have, really, are that snapshot of Santana as a small child, season 2, and season 4-5. In season 4 in particular, Santana is portrayed as feeling generally directionless and unsure of herself; of where her path is headed now that she exists outside the rigid hierarchies of McKinley High. And, so, her performance of femininity is exaggerated. It’s a continuation of what the cheerleader role represented for her earlier on: burying herself in the typical female role to hide from internal conflict.

I think there’s also more to be said, at this stage, on the way we can see this in Quinn as well. In season 1, she’s the church girl: babydoll dresses, sundresses, and, of course, her Cheerio uniform - something that she uses as a wall of self defence in a similar way to Santana. In season 2, her wardrobe is largely a more mature version of that - she’s been through the ringer, and being homeless and having a child have forced her to grow up, but, as we see in her determination to be Head Cheerleader again, she’s still desperately clinging to the version of herself from Before. The biggest departure is obviously Skank!Quinn, where she briefly leans fully into a more androgynous punk look before adopting, again, a fractionally more androgynous version of her season 2 appearance, namely the addition of her blazers - which might be read as something as a symbol of male soft social power. Her story in season 3 obviously continues to bring the angst, but it’s also a period of self-actualisation. The most traditionally feminine we see her presenting after that is in her brief appearances in season 5, where it is pretty explicitly established that she’s behaving inauthentically. It’s all fairly on the nose, especially on that latter point. Obviously we can’t map that onto Santana directly, but I think it’s an interesting lens of analysis, given that, as I established at the beginning of this section, the two characters parallel each other pretty strongly in a whole smorgasbord of ways.

vi.

I’ve been dancing around the whole ‘death of the author’ bit for a while now, so let’s get into it. The post that I linked at the top of this essay describes DOTA as 'once a work is complete, what the author believes it to mean is irrelevant to critical analysis of what's in the text’, and I think that’s a reasonable definition to work with here. In other words, the fact that this essay takes Santana as a person with agency of her own, outside of her creators’ intentions, is not necessarily incompatible with my argument that we might use the fact that she’s a fictional character to explore the idea of social constructs, because the former exists outside of the latter. Santana is a construct of fiction, and the author is dead. The two lenses of analysis go hand in hand, inverted as they may seem.

I don’t think it’s too controversial a statement to say that Glee isn’t a particularly tightly written piece of fiction. (Maybe it is controversial on the subreddit. Shit’s wild over there.) Santana is no exception to that. Her character is messy and inconsistent, and the writing varies in its willingness to explore her depth. It would be trite to say that within that uncharted depth lies the DNA of a brilliant character. I also don’t think that that’s entirely accurate, because Santana Lopez is brilliant. The brilliance, which I think I’ve explored quite widely in this essay, is in the margins, in the unsaid, the unexplored. It’s in the performance. Reading between the lines, we see the carefully constructed image that Santana herself created. That is the foundation upon which the character is built. And from that, we can analyse her in myriad ways - along with the myriad ways in which she is, herself, a constructed performance, both within and outside of the narrative, constantly deconstructing and reconstructing itself.

The author is dead. Long live Lopez.

#finally omg #this kind of ended up being a collection of Thoughts more than an essay but i at least tried to tie it all up at the end there #anyway i hope this doesn't feel too pseudointellectual lmao #and i hope you enjoy slash find this insightful or interesting #glee #santana

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my-makeshift-masquerade · 2 years

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Why Most Child Characters Seem Shallow and How to Avoid It

Ah, kids… They all develop at different rates and display unique characteristics. Yet, when you look at media of any medium or any age demographic, do you feel that child characters are a little…flat? Annoying even? Do you see the same kid character in multiple stories just with slightly different appearances? Are they more like plot devices or objects than fleshed out people?

I find often in writing child characters many creators (the vast majority of which are teens or adults) get trapped in the constraints of cultural ideas about how children supposedly work. I understand most people aren’t going to be able to know every aspect of developmental psychology, and that’s fine! Yet it’s ironic, since we were all kids at one point ourselves. Still, media of all sorts is tempted to group kids into categories based mainly on how they impact the rest of the cast, rather than the child’s developing personality and what factors are influencing its trajectory. I am aware that there are exceptions to every rule and I have seen many great well written child characters. However, in this post, I want to discuss what causes the majority of them to seem shallow, and how to avoid it in your writing!

1. Children Don’t Exist in a Vacuum

Children’s behavior is often framed by society in the lens of how it affects others, rather than considering the valid reasons a child may have to behave in that way. For example, a kid screaming and crying in a public place is seen as a brat throwing a tantrum…until someone realizes they’re hurt or being abducted. As a child, you’re damned if you do, and you’re damned if you don’t. No matter what you do, or why, or how, if you cause inconvenience, adults will likely on some level take it personally. They think to themselves that there were many other reasonable ways this kid could’ve gotten their needs met, but they chose to do this annoying thing.

In reality, kids rely on others reacting to them to get food water and love. That’s why children (who haven’t been abused) do whatever it takes to get their caregivers to pay attention to their needs, and their tactic is dependent on how the caregiver and their environment reacts. So ask yourself, why would this child character you’re writing be behaving in the specific way they are? Has this been the best way for them to get their needs met with their caregivers in the past? Are the characters around them going to understand this, or be annoyed? How does that make the child feel?

2. Kids Aren’t That Stupid

I can’t stress this point enough. Naive or innocent are not just other ways to say unintelligent or unaware. Kids notice almost everything around them, as they’re constantly absorbing information. They can have difficulties focusing on one thing for that reason. A lot of things are going through those little noggins of theirs, so please don’t go to making your 10 year old character act like they have the awareness of a toddler. I understand that maybe this character you’re writing is one you want to come off as innocent, but this isn’t the way to do it.

Child characters, though maybe not having as much experience noticing certain things, will usually notice the feelings of those around them. Kids can tell when adults don’t take them seriously, or when they’re being brushed aside. Don’t fall into the trap of making your child character oblivious to everything going on around them, or limiting their vocabulary to basic words even as they get to school age to make them “sound like a child”. They know more than you give them credit for, so don’t hesitate to let them be a bit more involved in what’s happening.

3. Tiny Human Problems are Real Problems

So, you may think children overrreact to the most trivial things. That’s hindsight talking for you. Kiddos don’t have as much frame of reference as an adult, so they react intensely to things adults may scoff about. This can either be natural because the child doesn’t know what to expect and is a bit spooked, or taught by how extremely others have reacted to similar things around them. A toddler may not know how to react to spilling their drink on the new carpet, and look to others. If someone freaks out over the mess, the child is likely to start crying themselves, and will feel panic if they spill something in the future. When put to a broad perspective, spilling something is not the end of the world. It’s an accident, and it can be cleaned up. But a child won’t know how that it’s not a big catastrophe unless someone else shows them they can remain calm in the situation.

In fact, as a general rule, extremely young children tend to see everything as revolving around them. This isn’t the same as selfishness. It’s more like they haven’t developed their full sense of “me” yet. Instead, everything is framed as “we”. The child and the world are one in the same. Problems for them are problems for the whole world. We are hungry. We are tired. We want that candy bar, etc. They cry and react so extremely because to their developing brains, this isn’t just their problem, but literally everyone else’s problem too. Keep in mind this also means when someone gets upset for a reason that has nothing to do with them, most children believe subconsciously they did something to make it happen. That belief can stay with them even well into adulthood.

#shut up becca #writing advice

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vitos-ordination-song · 5 months

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For this retrospective, I’m not going to discuss any of Butler’s short stories. I’m leaving those as little treats to read down the line. I’ve read “Bloodchild” and really liked it, and a lot of what I say about her novels definitely applies to it.

Butler had very specific interests. Her Patternist series and Xenogenesis series have a lot of overlap, as do Fledgling and even Kindred. The Parable series is stand out among all of her works for not playing into some of her usual themes, though there’s overlap there too. Kindred also stands out for its subject matter and approach.

Butler’s most common themes are parasitism/symbiosis, seduction, hybridity, reproduction/sexuality, pragmatism, unequal power dynamics, human cruelty, and the interplay between free will and external forces. Her writing style is frank and rarely embellished. Her characters are strong, determined, intelligent, and often brutal. Her stories are unique, strange, and twisted; most do not go where she does.

It was a bit difficult to finish completing her novels because the ones that aren’t as good are so similar to the better ones that I didn’t get much out of them. I would not recommend anyone read the Patternist series. It has some good moments, and I can’t think of any other books so centered on raw power struggles, situated in both the realms of family and species survival. However, they aren’t as interesting as her other works, and they aren’t very emotionally involving. I also wouldn’t recommend Fledgling. It’s probably the most poorly written and least exciting of her books; it starts out interesting but has too many characters and too few reasons to care about the narrative.

Fledgling, the Patternist books, and Xenogenesis are all broadly about the same thing: non-human (or greater than human) lifeforms rendering humans into their symbionts (or parasitic hosts). What exactly this means does vary from book to book, but there’s a lot of commonalities: in (almost) all cases, the life-forms grant humans longer, healthier, stronger lives, but it comes at a cost, typically one of domination and exploitation. The only exception to this are the Patternists themselves; a mutation of humanity, they take advantage of their weaker counterparts, often with no regard to their well-being, and give them nothing in return. Alien intelligences, however, are a little bit nicer. Or maybe it’s better to say they’re not cruel, only self-interested.

The best of this flavor of Butler is certainly the Xenogenesis series. I would recommend it to anyone who can appreciate it. To be honest, I love it so much and have so many thoughts on it that I’m going to find it difficult to talk about. Some day I’ll do more of a retrospective on this series in particular. For now, I’ll say a couple brief things and try to leave it at that. Firstly, the series has the best worldbuilding of any of her works. It is also the most emotionally gripping of her writing with a possible exception of Kindred. I loved Dawn, but Adulthood Rites is my favorite book Butler wrote hands down. Imago, I didn’t like as much, but it’s still important in the arc of the series, bringing it all full circle. Xenogenesis is Butler as her most transgressive—I LIKE weird sex stuff, but I can still feel Lilith’s horror on realizing what the Oankali wanted from her. Speaking of the Oankali, by creating them, Butler gave me something I’ve wanted for years: real aliens! Aliens which are truly different from humanity, from all life on earth, but so believable you feel you could touch them! Xenogenesis is the purest of science fiction for its reliance on speculative biology to create an authentic alien species, and guess what, they’re fucking freaks who want to have sex with you. The series also has the grandest ideas of any Butler novel, essentially serving as a treatise on human nature. As a final note, I’ll say that Akin is my favorite character Butler created.

The Parable series is the first thing I read by her. It’s dystopian fiction, full of unending misery barely balanced out by the main character’s sheer determination. Both books are enjoyable as survival stories and also offer dire warnings about the future, many of which have come true since the series was written in the 90s. The second book is stronger than the first, more complicated for introducing a second narrator. The strained relationship between Lauren, her daughter, and her brother is some of Butler’s most compelling character writing. There were a lot of truly harrowing moments; the books are definitely not for the faint of heart. Probably the most interesting aspect is the Earthseed religion, which the reader gets to see grow from its infancy to the stars. I ended up really feeling for Lauren and cried on finishing the series. I would recommend the books, though I don’t think they’re quite as good as Xenogenesis.

I’ll talk about Kindred last. It stands out among all Butler’s novels by not having a science fiction element at all. Like Fledgling, it could be called fantasy, but it has no real supernatural elements beyond inexplicable time travel, which is then used for grounded historical fiction. Butler’s purpose with the novel is very clear and very well executed. Modern people (in her time and now) have lost touch with the reality of slavery. Kindred works to make it very real. I think it’s a must-read for anyone interested in her writing or in the history of American slavery. Butler shows a deft hand at bringing Dana, and thus the reader, back to the 1800s. The story is unique; I suppose it could be compared to Butler’s Wild Seed, which is the best of the Patternist series. Both books focus on complicated relationships between abusive men and women who have to put up with them/begrudgingly like them. However, Kindred has a much more satisfying conclusion and is really unlike any other time travel story or slave narrative. The set up creates complicated relationships and difficult choices for the main character. Rufus Weylin is a fascinating and disgusting character, one of the most layered Butler created. I’m really glad I read this one.

Butler’s harsh worlds and twisted vision spoke to me, as did her stories of human determination and liberation. I wish she’d been given more of a chance, because she was a clear talent. People often compare her to Le Guin, but they really have nothing in common. However, consider that Le Guin was decades older than Butler and died more than a decade after. She was from a well-off academic family, while Butler was raised by a single mother who worked as a maid. I’m not trying to speak down to Butler, who was a formidable person regardless circumstances. I just wish she’d had more time and hadn’t had as many constraints as she did. I can only imagine the strange places she would have taken me, because one thing’s for certain: nothing short of death was going to make that woman stop writing.

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bluiex · 1 year

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Well good thing I also had this chapter done so it can happily be posted! I’m really happy people seem to like this au! I will admit this chapter was pretty rushed when I made it (even though it took me sic hours to write lol). Enjoy!

As is true for all stories, seeing only one perspective will leave many questions unanswered. Some things will appear black and white. So to get more insight, we must start looking through other sides.

Mumbo was staring down at Scar with worry in his eyes. He had seen his friend freeze up and slowly look to the other Winter, with wide and distant eyes. It felt as if his soul had vacated his body and his body was a tomb that had long been raided and discarded.

Perhaps it was nothing, thought the Redstoner. Surely, Scar must be fine. Maybe he was simply experiencing what Mumbo had felt when they had met up with Skizz? Yes, that would make sense. If he got jealous over another Autumn, then it’s not out of the picture for Scar to get jealous over another Winter.

“… Scar?” Mumbo said his name quietly, not wanting to spook him or let the other two know that something was wrong with him.

Scar’s eyes darted to him immediately. Almost instantly, Scar had latched on to him, burying his face into the crook of Mumbo’s neck, with his arms wrapped around the Redstoner, tightly. And, well, Mumbo certainly wasn’t complaining about having Scar in his arms.

“You ok?” Mumbo whispers into his ear, having his arms wrap around Scar’s waist.

“….” Scar was silent for a moment. “Yeah. Just want your attention.”

Mumbo couldn’t help the small chuckle that left his lips. “You don’t need to have any worry, you always have my complete and utter attention.” And he meant it. It was hard to keep his attention off of Scar and Grian. The two of them were just so perfect in every way.

“That’s nice to hear.” Mumbo couldn’t see his face but could feel Scar’s face start heating up and a smile forming. It made Mumbo incredibly happy to make Scar happy.

“Those two teamed up or something?” Mumbo looked up to see BigB and Skizz talking amongst themselves.

“Nope! I’m pretty sure they’re just in love with each other!” Skizz chuckled, and soon BigB joined in. “Ah, before I forget, I’m going to put the coordinates for spawn in chat that way everyone else can find it.”

That is a good idea, Mumbo bitterly admitted to himself. And while he could have definitely thought of that himself, he was very busy with a very cute man in his arms currently! Yup, that’s definitely why he didn’t think of that.

“That’s a good idea, Skizz,” Scar had lifted his head from where it was nestled to speak to Skizz. Mumbo was just a tad miffed by this, but said nothing. At least Scar was still in his arms, and that’s all that matters.

“Thanks. It looks like everyone is starting to head over,” Skizz replied while looking at his communicator, probably reading everyone’s replies.

“Sounds good. So Skizz told me you both were Autumn and Winter, respectfully. Any specific people you’d like to team with?” BigB was looking at them both with a smile.

Mumbo felt himself match the smile, it was too infectious to not do so. “I’m hoping for Grian and Scar, but Scar doesn’t want to team with Grian so I’ll probably be with Grian unless we’re the same season.”

“Yeah, I’m hoping for Cub or Pearl on my team. And Mumbo too, of course,” Scar answers, making a point to not look at BigB.

“Ah, I see. That makes sense,” BigB looked a little awkward and Mumbo wondered what had made sense. Later, Mumbo will punch himself for not asking more questions. “Yeah, I’m also interested in teaming with Grian, like Mumbo. I’m not sure about other teammates, but I’d definitely be happy teaming with you, Mumbo if it ends up being that way!”

“Yeah, same!” Mumbo wasn’t quite sure if he was imagining it but he thought he felt Scar tense under him. The only thing he was sure of, was Scar leaving his arms and instead wrapping his own arms around himself. This made no sense to Mumbo as he was sure his arms were doing a great job of holding Scar. Curse his arms for failing him at this moment!

Before any potential complaining could take place, all four of them could hear voices approaching. Staring in the direction of the noise, Mumbo was able to make out False and Fwhip. Man double F names coming together.

“Hey hey, everyone!” Fwhip greeted the group, giving them a wave and a smile.

“Hey, Fwhip!” Scar greeted him with his beautiful, stunning smile. “Hey False! Welcome to the spawn party!”

“Welcome you both! What roles did you two get?” Seems like Skizz was curious about what everyone got. Mumbo wasn’t judging at all, but he did seem to be trying to find out things about everyone.

“I’m an Autumn, and False is a Winter,” Fwhip answers him. And like, did everyone get either Winter or Autumn? Did Grian somehow manage to forget to give people the Summer and Spring roles?

“Huh…” BigB blinked at them. “Well, um, Scar and I are also Winters while Skizz and Mumbo are also Autumns.”

“What?” Honestly, Fwhip was expressing verbally how Mumbo felt. Because what are the odds that half of the Winter and Autumn folk have met up.

“So we’re all Winter or Autumn right now?” False asks, probably to clarify for her brain. Not that Mumbo could blame her.

“Looks that way,” Skizz agrees.

And there was the awkward silence. It seemed like no one knew what to talk about now. How could Mumbo assume this? Well everyone was looking around while staying silent. Definitely awkward.

The next to arrive was Bdubs, who was alone. And well, of course their luck was just as awful as the rest of them.

“Bdubs!” Scar was smiling so happily at him and Mumbo was very much not jealous!

“Scar! You all who aren’t Scar!” Bdubs greeted them, but did greet Scar with a hug. “Looks like I’m right on time for the party!”

“You sure are! What season did you get, Bdubs?” Scar looked so excited to see him and like, why? Mumbo’s taller than Scar and his arms were strong and big enough to keep Scar warm and safe! So why did he have to be happy seeing Bdubs.

“I’m an Autumn!” Bdubs looked so proud of himself. The rest of the group stared at Bdubs with an indescribable look of dumbfounded. Bdubs looked at all of them, a little confused. “What is my season just so amazing, you don’t know what to say?”

“No…” Skizz is the one who responds. “It’s the fact that you’re the fourth autumn here. We’re all either Autumn or Winter.”

“Huh?” And there was now another flabbergasted person in the spawn area. “Did Grian forget to code the other roles or something?”

“I’m honestly considering it,” Mumbo really was. Is there really such a coincidence as great as this?

“It is strange that none of us are Summer or Spring,” Skizz nods to himself. “But there’s also quite a lot of us so it’s not improbable that the Summer and Spring people are just not here yet.”

“Suppose we’ll just have to wait and see,” Mumbo shrugs.

And wait they did. At some point they all started sitting around spawn. Mumbo sat next to Scar who was also sitting next to Bdubs, and resting his head on Bdub’s shoulder, which most definitely did not bother Mumbo in the slightest. Nope, not at all.

The next duo was Lizzie and Joel. When asked, Lizzie said she was an Autumn, which almost made everyone lose their minds, however Joel said he was Summer so it was good confirmation that Skizz ended up being right. Also, apparently the two of them teamed up immediately. As soon as they figured out they were different seasons in fact.

Mumbo wished he could find such amazing love like theirs. It was just so pure and beautiful. And Mumbo really wanted that with Scar and Grian, it hurt.

The next person was Doc, who was a Spring. Thank goodness for that. Then Sausage who was a Summer. Katherine was next who was also a Summer. Cleo and Pearl were both Springs, and were distinctly not looking at each other. Next, Grian arrived.

Mumbo actually got off the floor when Grian arrived, so did BigB. Scar looked over at Grian with an unreadable expression, before turning his attention away. Mumbo thought it was strange that Scar hadn’t even greeted the short avian, but figured that he might’ve been tired.

“Grian! It’s great to see you! What season did you get?” Mumbo gave Grian a big hug, which was reciprocated.

“I’m a Summer. How about you both?” Grian seemed to also be talking to BigB, as he did end their hug to give BigB one.

“I’m a Winter,” BigB answers, smiling widely. “Which means we can be teamed in this game!”

“Yes!” Grian seemed very happy by this discovery. Well, Mumbo couldn’t remember a time they’ve teamed so it makes sense that they might want to team with each other?

“I’m an Autumn, so we can also be a team!” Mumbo smiled at them both.

“Oh this is amazing! This will be the best team ever!” Grian pulled up his sleeves and stared at them. Mumbo and BigB gave each other a look before staring with Grian.

That’s when the magic began. On Grian’s arms, their names began forming. Mumbo’s name was orange while BigB’s was an icy blue. BigB rolled up his own sleeves to see Mumbo’s name in the same color and Grian’s in yellow. Mumbo followed suit, and yeah their names were there in the same color.

“Oh, does this show who’s teamed with who?” Mumbo was amazed at the coding that went into this. Not to mention, the names were in different fonts, almost looking like they wrote the name themselves.

“It sure does! Now we just need a Spring and we’re all good to go!” Grian cheered. “Hmm, I wonder who a good last teammate would be. Do either of you guys know who the Springs are?”

Why wasn’t Grian asking about Scar? No, nothing happened, Mumbo. You’re just overthinking things! They’ve teamed up plenty of times, it makes sense that they want to hang around with other people.

“You two figure that out, I’m going to speak with Scar for a quick second,” Mumbo tells them. Grian gives him a thumbs up before going on his merry way.

Mumbo walks over to Scar who was still sitting next to Bdubs, but Bdubs was preoccupied talking to Cleo. From the short bit he picked up from their conversation, it sounded like the two of them were planning to team together. Good for them.

“Hey, Scar,” Mumbo greets him. Scar gave him a glance before looking away.

Cub had just arrived to the group, so Mumbo figured that he was quickly checking who arrived. However, he was proven wrong when Scar got off the ground and made his way over to Cub, his arms outstretched and he embraced Cub. Mumbo couldn’t deny the fact he was a tad upset that Scar had chosen to ignore him but he hoped it was just excitement of seeing Cub.

“Cub, I’m so happy to see you! What season did you get? I’m a Winter!” And well, it made sense Scar was so excited. He did say at the beginning that he wanted to team with Cub.

“I’m a Summer,” Cub chuckles, seemingly so pleased about having his arms full of Scar. “Does this mean you wanted to team with me?”

“Absolutely!” Scar smiled at him so brightly. Seriously, he really is like the sun.

“Then, I’d love for us to be teamed.” Cub smiled down at Scar like he was the most precious thing on this earth. And, well, that wasn’t far from the truth.

Mumbo moved back over to his two teammates who were still discussing things. Mumbo basically tuned them out and began paying attention to spawn again.

There were four pairs that were talking to each other basically, and if Mumbo had to assume, they were all either teamed or planning to team. There was False and Doc, Cub and Scar, Bdubs and Cleo, and finally Lizzie and Joel.

Martyn came, he was a Winter. He went over to Cleo and Bdubs, and seemed to join their conversation. Then Jimmy, who was a Winter, got there, and Lizzie excitedly dragged him to her and Joel’s little group. Etho was next, he was a Summer, and was kidnapped by Bdubs’ group.

It didn’t take long for that group of four to say their goodbyes to the rest of everyone and leave. The first full team it seemed: Etho, Cleo, Martyn, and Bdubs. That team could be troublesome in the future, but we’d just have to wait and see.

Zed got there next, a Spring, and he naturally migrated over to Skizz. Ren and Pearl got there at the same time. Ren was an Autumn while Pearl was a Spring. Grian seemed to zone in on Pearl as soon as he heard she was a Spring but Scar got there before he did. And Scar’s little team became one of three. Ren was immediately taken by False and Doc. Quite literally, as Doc forced the dog hybrid into his lap. So there were now four groups looking for another member.

False approached Katherine, who happily agreed to join their group. One group out of the race. Then Impulse and Tango joined the group looking… well, they definitely looked like they had seen better days. It was very clear what they were up to. They both had hickeys over their necks and their hair was messy and their faces were very red.

“Oh, what’s this?” Grian had a smirk on his lips while looking at the two who very clearly just got it on. “Did the Shadowman already attack?”

Tango smirked back at Grian, looking incredibly pleased with himself. “I sure did. Honestly, I had such a nice ride on him.” He sent Impulse a wink.

“And you just let him, Impulse?” Mumbo couldn’t understand why Grian wanted details of their sex life.

“Well, yeah? Not like there’s anything wrong with that?” Impulse answered, looking and sounding a tad confused.

“Oh, did I forget to mention that?” Grian made that face when you’re smiling in shock. “Ah, well I should mention that the Shadowman’s victim is unable to get it up for the rest of the week..”

Impulse’s head whipped around to glare at Tango. “What?! I can’t get hard for the rest of week?! It’s day one!”

“I didn’t know that there were consequences!” Tango defended himself. Sigh.. Can’t believe Grian would forget to mention such an important thing…

“Oops, my bad..” Grian whistled, looking away from the duo.

“Is there any way to indicate who you’re teamed with, at least?” Impulse was glaring at Grian, which he definitely deserved.

“Yup, their name will appear on your arm!” Grian meets Impulse’s glare with a smile. “However, if their name doesn’t appear, it means that there’s too many teams and you have to join one of them, Which should be now since there’s three teams here who have three people, two who have four, and one that has two. And the maximum amount of teams is six.”

“Oof…” Tango looks away from Impulse. “Sorry Impy…”

Impulse sighs. “It’s fine, Tango. Not your fault, it’s Grian for not explaining things sooner.”

“Now that we got that out of the way, what seasons did you both get?” Grian asks, and oh right. Their team still needs a Spring.

“Impy’s a Winter, and I’m a Spring!” Tango answers for both of them.

“Oh come on! We were so close to Team ZITS!” Zed pouts from where he was next to Skizz. “Why couldn’t you have been a Summer, Tango!”

“I don’t get to choose that!” Tango was now pouting too. Team ZITS would have been a nice team. If only it worked out perfectly for everyone.

“Wait, Tango, our team needs a Spring!” Jimmy exclaims in excitement. Mumbo could see Tango’s face light up at that. Mumbo never knew the two of them even talked to each other before.

“Well, we have our group then!” Joel stood up from the ground. “See you nerds around later!” And the four of them were off.

“Ah, guess us four should leave too,” Doc says to his group. And then there were three groups left in the center.

“What seasons is each group looking for? Because we have two people unpaired here and then someone else who knows where.” Mumbo honestly couldn’t even remember who had yet to show up, and since Grian didn’t mention it, it’s possible he doesn’t remember either.”

“Our group is looking for an Autumn,” Cub answered for his group.

“Our group is looking for a Summer,” Skizz spoke up for team ZITS minus Tango.

“Ours is waiting for Spring. What seasons do you both have?” Grian asks Sausage and Fwhip. And, Mumbo was just realizing something, why did all the Summer people speak up? Like only them?

“I’m an Autumn.”

“I’m a Summer!”

Fwhip and Sausage had responded at the same time of each other. And well, it seemed that the mystery person was for their team.

“Fwhip! Looks like you're joining the best team!” Scar happily welcomed Fwhip with welcome arms. “We get to team up now without me having to murder you cuz of Jimmy!” What was that supposed to mean?

“It’s good to have you on board, Sausage,” Impulse gave Sausage a pat on the back, welcoming him to team ZISS?

“Thanks for having me!”

Both teams went on their merry way. And Scar had.. Scar had said goodbye to the other team. But not his. Nor him. Scar was ignoring him. What right did Scar think he had to be upset that Mumbo teamed with Grian and BigB when he chose to team with Cub and Pearl!

The three of them sat around spawn, waiting for their last member to finally join them. Grian had pulled up his communicator to look for who it was. But for some reason, even after the other two looked at it, their small brain cells couldn’t actually figure out who it was.

Well that was until he finally showed up.

There he was alright. Scott Smajor in the flesh.

“Scott! Finally! We’ve been waiting for you to finally show up!” Mumbo could tell Grian was quite upset with having to wait so long for their last member to show up.

Scott looked around spawn and saw no one else was there. Seemed like he at least could place together that everyone else got teamed up and sighed. “Guessing that I’m stuck with you all?”

“Stuck with us?” Mumbo couldn’t help the offense in his voice. They waited so long for him and this is how he responds?! How absolutely rude!

“Sorry, not talking about you, Mumbo,” Scott apologized to him, but still. “I just didn’t want to team up with the cheaters but it is what it is.”

“I’m sorry. The. What?” If Mumbo’s attention wasn’t on Scott enough earlier, then it definitely was now. He almost missed the scared look that Grian was sporting in the corner of his peripheral vision.

“You don’t know?” Scott gave him a pitying look. “Last game we had soulmates, who most people were in a romantic relationship with. And they both cheated on their soulmates with each other.”

“Who were their soulmates?” Mumbo’s mouth was becoming dry. Please tell him not Scar. Please don’t say Scar.

“BigB’s was Ren.” Ah either False or Doc would get vengeance for Ren. “And Grian’s was Scar.”

Mumbo’s head whipped to look at Grian. He knew he was glaring daggers into his head at the moment, and well, at least Grian had some shame. But nothing could quell Mumbo’s rage now.

“Grian… You cheated on… Scar…” It was all clicking. Why Scar wouldn’t look at BigB, why Scar didn’t want to team with Grian, why Scar wouldn’t speak to him.

“Look, Mumbo, calm dow-”

“CALM DOWN?! YOU WANT ME TO CALM DOWN?! I JUST CHOSE TO JOIN YOUR GROUP OVER SCAR’S BECAUSE I THOUGHT YOU TWO WANTED SPACE! I COULD HAVE HAD SCAR IN MY ARMS RIGHT NOW BUT I AM NOW STUCK WITH THE MAN WHO CHEATED ON HIM AND HIS AFFAIR PARTNER!” Mumbo’s anger exploded. He could physically feel himself become red in the face with anger.

He felt a hand go on his shoulder, he turned around quickly and saw that it was just Scott. Scott who was blameless in this. Mumbo forced himself to calm down a little.

“I can’t believe you. Both of you.”

“I’m sorry, Mumbo,” Grian reached out for him but Mumbo smacked his hand away. Using his other arm, he wrapped it around Scott’s waist.

“I’m not the one you should apologize to.”

Hehehe. I love angst fresh in the morning hehehehe.

-Cys

WAAAH MUMBO FINDING OUT ABOUT DOUBLE LIFE STUFF my my heart *lays down* god this is getting so good

#bluie gets an ask poggers #long post #seasonal life au

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gemsofgreece · 1 year

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I think that very often the history of Pontic Greeks does get overshadowed by the Asia Minor Catastrophe. I live in Thessaloniki, and every time I go to Public (the bookstore/electronic store) they have a dozen and more historical books about Asia Minor being advertised, and almost no books about the Pontic Greeks, not even the most popular ones like Not Even My Name (okay they did have one historical novel, I give them that, but it’s still way too little in my opinion). Some other bookstores like Protoporia have a bigger collection, but it’s still frustrating to me (as a Pontic Greek) that books about Pontus aren’t receiving more attention. And you’re right about education, they’re isn’t really an effort to teach about Pontic Greek history more specifically, and I know that the Pontus and Caucasus regions were further removed than the Asia Minor Coast but we are part of Greek History as much as everybody else. I really wish that the day commemorating the Pontic Greek Genocide would get equal treatment with the Macedonian Struggle and the 17th of November which are celebrated in school with activities to educate students about them. So I was very grateful that Kokkino Potami at least seemed to make people more aware of our history, even if it was very frustrating that some people seemingly had no idea about Pontic Greeks before watching the show. I heard a person say “this show revealed the crimes of T people against Pontic Greeks” and I was like Em no this show didn’t “reveal” anything? Everything that is happening in the show is based on actual historical events that were known before the series. But it’s a testament to how lacking our education is.

Contrary to what certain foreign people might think, the teaching of history in Greek school is pretty mild. Even the wrongdoings against Greeks are mentioned in a rush or without too many “graphic” details, unless it’s crucial in order to understand what happened. It kind of tries to avoid creating impassionate reactions to the students (except for pride) which is both good and bad for different reasons, a bad one being that some parts of history remain in the shadow and young people do not learn about them. I mean, that was my experience. I suppose it depends on the teacher too.

Apart from that, I think the Greek state had always strived for a not-always-very-healthy homogeneity (that probably started as a competitive measure to cope with the raging irredentism present in all the Balkans), not only towards minorities but even at the expense of ethnic Greeks themselves at times. I would add that the Pontic dialect (one of the most archaic Greek dialects surviving) should be taught to students with Pontic background or whoever wants to. Same with the Tsakonian dialect in the Peloponnese, which originates from Ancient Doric Greek and is severely endangered. Even more prominent ones like the Cretan will eventually start struggling. Instead of just jumping up and down at the sound of a Pontic or a Cretan Lyra, maybe it would be best to actively protect the richness of the heritage. All the preservation comes from citizens’ associations and initiatives, almost never from the state’s actions.

I don’t know if it’s any consolation to you but my experience has been better; almost all people I have met and discussed something relevant seemed to know about the hardship Pontic Greeks have gone through. Not with many details of course (I need to educate myself more too) but they knew that the story goes well beyond the Asia Minor catastrophe.

#pontic greeks #pontic greek genocide #greece #history #anon #mail

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skyward-floored · 1 year

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what are all your wips? not asking to post the excerpts themselves but like. what fics are you working on / plan to do? if you dont mind sharing your secret plans…… :)

I don’t mind at all! I love talking about my fics/wips, thanks for asking!!!

Prepare yourself for a BIG LIST of fics, some of which that have been half-published, and also some that haven’t yet seen the light of day :)

The Twilight Turns — true form au! Midna gets her true form back WAY earlier than in canon, and this leads to both her and Link catching quite a few feelings. The next chapter is sort of on pause until I get around to playing the part I’m at in-game.

Royal Castletown Wedding — a fic that started as a joke post, I stole the plot of a my little pony episode and lu-ified it. If you think it is just fluffy silliness than you are wrong. I’ve hit the climax, and there’s only a few chapters left of this one!

Brethren in a Cradle — *gently holds* my very special multichap fic I haven’t updated in months (I’M SORRY) about Wild, as well as the rest of the chain, stumbling across a baby and having no other options, take him with them. Warriors had snuck his way into the focus as well. The next chapter IS being worked on, just verrrry slowly. This fic means a lot to me and I’m NOT giving up on it.

Up in Arms — Warriors loses an arm during the war, and struggles immensely with coming to terms with it. Fortunately he ends up with 8 other heroes who are more than willing to help. First chapter of this is up, the second and third (fourth?) chapters are in progress.

The Many Courses of Love — a fic exploring all the different relationships of the Links after their adventures, a chapter per game. This one isn’t lu, (it’s actually connected to my own Link’s meet thing) but I’m very attached to it. Next couple chapters are being worked on, but aren’t very close to finished XD

Unnamed Time & Legend fic — angst/whump/hurt/comfort o-rama. This one is a continuation of a whumptober I wrote in 2021, but it can honestly stand on its own. Everyone, especially Time and Legend, has a Bad Time. A specific secret is also revealed. Planning on finishing this one entirely and releasing the couple chapters it has on a schedule.

Unnamed breath of the wild aftermath/Dark Link fic — a multichap I’ve had cooking for years, after the events of botw the Yiga decide revenge is due, and steal some of Link’s blood to make a copy of him to kill him. Except they don’t account for Zelda’s magic accidentally getting mixed up in there, and they make... a pretty sweet guy who has no clue what’s going on. The first chapter of this is done actually, but I don’t want to post it because the rest is... nowhere near done in any way XD

Incredibles au main story — the entire dang movie as an lu fic, I’m chipping away at it when I can! Not ready to be published yet, but I’m working on it :)

Incredibles au Hyrule backstory — this one is close to being done, it’s about how Hyrule ended up with the rest of the boys

Unnamed Warriors and Hyrule fic — the traveler and captain couldn’t be more unalike, but it turns out they’re connected by much more than they previously thought. This one is on the back burner, but I work on it occasionally. Thinkin it’ll be one of those 5 + 1 fics the kids do.

Unnamed Warriors and Mask/Time fic — traitor angst babeyyyyy! I’m stuck on this one, don’t know when it’ll be done.

Fic for Tellie — (yes that’s the working title) set in her palace au, it’s almost done :)

Courage of Ages — aaauuuggghh my own Link’s meet au thing, it’s been on the back burner as well, but I love it so and love questions about it. It’ll be publishable someday...

Tri Force Heroes oneshot collection — a bunch of oneshots about Tri force heroes, plus post-game backstory stuff with my versions of these guys :)

Assorted requests sitting in my inbox from ages ago — *sweating* ages ago I asked for some fic ideas, several of which are... still sitting in my inbox, unanswered. I’ve barely worked on them, but I’ll do them eventually!

There’s a few more not on this list, but they’re either self-indulgent things I’ll never publish, ideas that are barely formed or I haven’t started writing as of yet, or fics I started but didn’t continue and haven’t touched in months.

Anyways whew, I think that’s it! I’m always willing to answer questions about all of these, so don’t be shy!

#I also accept pokes from when I’m procrastinating or being a perfectionist and not just posting things already #answers from the floor #anon #wips #writing from the floor #brethren in a cradle #up in arms #castletown wedding #Incredibles au #true form au #courage of ages #hmm I’m realizing I #probably should’ve put a readmore #oh well #long post

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chaosintheavenue · 1 year

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Totally unprompted, I’ve decided to answer a few questions from these lists for Trin, so buckle in...

How does your OC feel about their full name?

First name (Trinity): Generally likes it, especially the fact that it has multiple layers of intended meaning and connotations (but more on that soon!)

Middle name (Elloise): Likes it, but she did select it herself, so that’s kind of cheating lol

Last name: Eh. She quite likes the cadence of the way her entire full name sounds aloud, and appreciates having a ‘short and snappy’ surname. But it does very frequently get misheard, mispronounced, and all that fun. I’d say it’s her least favourite aspect of her full name, but she still doesn’t have strong feelings against it

What do strangers notice about them first?

The gigantic scar across her face is pretty hard to miss. But oddly enough, Trin herself sometimes almost forgets that it’s there (to be fair, it’s not like she sees her own face very often) and gets startled by people’s first reactions to seeing it.

Do they have a “tell” for when they’re lying?

Probably trying to compensate for the lie by overexplaining herself in suspiciously specific detail.

What is their hair texture like?

Smooth, straight, and pretty thin. She dislikes the way the thin + straight combination causes her hair to fall once it has length beyond her head, which is one reason that she keeps it short (aside from practical reasons).

How much jewelry do they wear, and do they have a favorite or distinguishing piece?

She wears jewelry on occasion when it’s practical for her to do so. No specific favourite pieces, but she does sometimes hand-craft necklaces and earrings out of scavenged ‘treasures’, leading to a pretty distinctive style.

She has both earlobes and one nostril pierced (something I can’t replicate in game in 76 aaaaargh-), but doesn’t always wear anything in them. She can tend to get a little bit creative with earrings, but she’s too scared to add any sort of extra weight to her nose piercing, so that’s either a simple stud or nothing.

How has their childhood affected the way they view an aspect of their life (people, education, society, themselves, etc)?

Ah, I could literally sit down and write an essay on this very topic, but for now, I’ll stick to one facet and keep it fairly brief. Trin was raised between two factions that are both fairly isolationist and have firmly established social structures, but are very different from one another. As she was growing up, members of each group tended to primarily think of her as a member of the other, and therefore an outsider, and the memory of being treated accordingly has stuck into adulthood. So... yeah, permanent outsider mindset wherever she goes.

Is there a meaning behind their name, or a particular reason why they have it? (either in the story, or why you as the author decided to give them their name)

Another question where my response could get lengthy if I let it! In short, yes and yes

In-story, her name was specifically selected to help her remember where she came from and the errors of the past, but also not to immediately mark her as a member of one of the factions I mentioned (who typically have a distinctive naming style)

Out of universe, many of the above reasons still apply, but also, the very first idea I had for her concept was actually a set of triplets, and so I got to sneakily reference her being- essentially- the fusion of three people into one

Does their fashion sense reflect an aspect of their personality? (ie bright and colorful outfits symbolizing that they’re an upbeat person)

Her fashion sense is confusing, to say the least. She uses multiple different and sometimes conflicting styles, and combined with a love for bright colours, it can make her very noticeable. I suppose it very much fits with her faction identity crisis and desire to be seen for who she really is...

How do they feel about romantic relationships? Are they into casual flings or more serious, long-term romances? Or are they uninterested?

She’ll have absolutely none of that. She’s firmly aroace, and I get the impression she might be completely romance repulsed. She’s especially not a fan of people assuming that her and her closest friend (who, just to make it even better, is also ace lol) are a couple, which happens quite a bit.

#Trin #oc questions

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thousand-winters · 2 years

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Alright alright alright.

The stars too, they tell of spring returning #7 & 11

I was lost for you to find #1, 2 & 4

We're all walking wounds #7, 2, 14, 15

Loving echoes (In loving memory of Emperor Belos) #1, 9, 12, 15

Yeah that’s a lot my bad. Do as many or as little as you’re comfortable with, I just really love all your stories and the dynamics between Darius, Hunter, and Eberwolf. Many characters in toh can carry their own show and these three are no exception and you did it very well. Looking forward to whatever else you put out!

Once again, I’m procrastinating enough that I might just answer everything 😂 But maybe I do need to chill a lot, so it’s probably fine. Here we go!

The stars too, they tell of spring returning

7: Where did the title come from?

Ohhhh, okay, so this one comes from the musical Spring Awakening, aka, my all time favorite. I only have this fic in the series, but this one and the sequel fic I have planned for it come from the song Those you’ve known (hence the name of the series). Give it a listen if you want! I actually have a very detailed animatic with it in my head, featuring Darius, his mentor, Hunter and a LOT of palismen. Unfortunately, I can’t draw, let alone animate, so you’re getting it in written form.

Spring Awakening is a musical that... gets dark, ngl, but at the end of the day it’s hopeful, and that song in particular makes me think a lot about the regrets both Darius and Hunter keep, but also the knowledge that ultimately they can and will heal.

This line hits hard: Those you’ve pained may carry that still with them. All the same, they whisper “all forgiven”.

11: What do you like best about this fic?

I’m really enjoying writing the little connections between Darius’s side of the narrative and Hunter’s! I also had been pretty hesitant about writing about the Boiling Isles because we truly don’t know at all what’s happening there, but I have ideas and I’m very happy letting them out. You are getting some theories in fanfiction form, haha.

It’s a bit ambitious, considering I’m not used to this kind of... more action-oriented story telling, but that’s part of the fun!

I was lost for you to find

1: What inspired you to write the fic this way?

Truthfully? I was straight up like “I can’t write that many adoption stories without them starting to turn out repetitive”, haha. I wanted to try another angle, and I thought it would be a cute idea to do something in which Darius and Hunter could see themselves reflected in, kind of a “look how far we’ve come” thing. Plus, this way I got to feature a lot of Eber.

2: What scene did you first put down?

The visit to the jaguar! I almost never write the beginnings first, but shhhh. Specifically, the joke with the “hey, she looks like you” was one of the first things going there, and I knew that I wanted to repeat it later with Darius saying it this time, but I didn’t write that down until I actually got to that part.

4: What’s your favorite line of dialogue?

“It’s true, pup, they too are furless and need lots of nurturing.” because I think I’m really funny sometimes asjhgfhjdsg I’m a clown, but one that cheers for herself.

We're all walking wounds

7: Where did the title come from?

Okay, so my titles are either straight to the point (”Home”, “Dress”) or from a song, and if it’s the latter, they’re either from a musical OR from my new favorite artist that I acquired earlier this year, haha. Lowkey, if you guess what artist is it, I would write you anything you wanted ajsgfjsdg it’s not that easy to guess especially because I messed up the line in one title 🤣

Anyway, whether I choose the title because the whole song fits or just the line fits varies. This one was a “the whole song fits” kind of deal. But I’ll give you the verse because it’s what I was thinking of specifically while writing it:

“We’re all walking wounds

Brains and bodies are bruised

Let me take care of you.”

2: What scene did you first put down?

The scene where Hunter realizes Darius’s magic isn’t working. Because I was very excited to write that, mostly. I truly never start with the beginning, rip asjgfjdsg

14: Is there anything you wanted readers to learn from reading this fic?

As a sort of moral lesson kind of deal? I mean, not really, I’m just a humble fanfic writer 😆 But I do like spreading the “it’s okay to let others take care of you” agenda. I think it’s also nice to see that it’s not only one-sided care, Hunter cares about Darius as much as Darius cares about him. And they both need to learn to let people in.

15: What did you learn from writing this fic?

Well, I do like to think I improve a little bit with each thing I write. That’s true for all writers, right? I feel like I have trouble with writing dialogues and with pacing, but hopefully each new thing helps to make it better!

Loving echoes (In loving memory of Emperor Belos)

1: What inspired you to write the fic this way?

I think something that’s not always considered is that you can still harbor affection for someone who hurt you if it was someone you loved, no matter how much you are aware that they treated you terribly and how much you want to not feel that way. The feelings don’t disappear just because you wish they weren’t there, and there’s a lot you have to come to terms with when there are “good parts” you can remember in between the mistreatment.

Hunter genuinely cared for Belos, and with that beginning scene in Eclipse Lake, I got the impression that there were truly times in which Belos played the caring uncle role. Rare, not very long-lasting, but they were there. And that was enough to generate conflicting feelings.

9: Were there any alternate versions of this fic?

Yes and no? I played around with the idea of making it about the previous Golden Guard, but I didn’t really have anything concrete with that idea before I settled on this one.

One “alternative” thing I did consider was if Hunter was going to go alone to the castle or not, but it was also just an idea before I decided that no, he would be with his family.

12: What do you like least about this fic?

*Insert principal Bump’s voice* Wow, I grossly misjudged the tone of this.

I’m just suffering a little because while the part about being able to feel affection for someone who hurt you is still true, I did not expect Belos to do something that would make Hunter start being angry at him instead of afraid. Thanks to them was... world changing ahsfghdsgfhjdgh

Aside from that, pacing. I feel like I didn’t give enough time to breath in between the reflections at the beginning and the actual scene at the castle.

15: What did you learn from writing this fic?

I never learn anything *finger guns*. No, I don’t know... maybe that I can actually cry writing something? Because I did cry while writing some of it ajsgfjsdg

Thank you so much for the questions!!! It makes me really happy to know people like what I write 🥺💕 I’m currently working on the update for The stars too, they tell of spring returning and a one-shot, and I hope you’ll like them once they’re ready!!!

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lostandfem · 2 years

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hey, i just wanted to say that detransitioning doesn't mean you need to buy in to terf-ness. like, i definitely agree that the women who have detransitioned would have benefited from the ideas of radical feminism. and that radical feminism is the only viable path forward to a future in which all people feel safe and comfortable in their bodies and their social roles. however, not all radical feminists are terfs (this is coming from a trans person who believes in radical feminism). the abolition of gender norms doesn't mean we should abolish transness. just my thoughts for you. wishing you all the best

Hey! Thanks for the ask :)

You make a point. Radical feminism doesn’t have to exclude trans people. And I personally don’t exclude them. Nor do I identify as a terf, just a radfem. I personally include any person assigned female at birth, regardless of how they identify. The point is prioritizing the care and protection of females before males, who are the oppressing class. However, the nature of radical feminism questions gender constructs, and the goal to abolish the correlation of gender to specific sets of traits threatens to abolish how many trans people currently identify themselves.

Given my experiences I now feel a need to question exactly how gender identity works in regards to biological sex and how the systems apply these gender constructs irl. I’m evaluating how the patriarchy deals with the concept of a gender identity and if it’s harmful or helpful. I’ve seen too much internalized misogyny from both sexes to believe that some people’s reasons for identifying certain ways aren’t due to that. I need to question how my girlhood experiences have been translated to be signs of trans boyhood. I have to question why does trans need to be a thing?

So far I’m of the opinion that it only needs to be a thing for people with GID. Transition might actually be the right/only treatment for them and that’s okay, and I’m more than willing to accommodate female trans and nonbinary people. But we can have people living as the opposite sex without having any sort of gender ideology. I.e. It’s possible to live as the opposite sex without being “trans”. I believe it’s possible to have a sort of body-incongruence that needs medical intervention, but I’ve also seen a lot of people deciding they’re trans because they better fit for another gender’s roles. Some trans women find out they’re trans women because they like skirts. Some trans men find out they’re trans men because they always hated dresses. That exists separately from just body-incongruence. Though you can create body-incongruence through the rigid application of those gender roles.

I think we need more data on how dysphoria works, because HRT and surgeries shouldn’t be the first option. If you look into detrans stories, a lot of them talk about how their dysphoria was caused by something else entirely. Even so, by all definitions of the word, it still fits the criteria for dysphoria. A lot of us even have dysphoria now. And it makes me a little sad that therapists are either too scared to talk about it or they’re more of the opinion that transition is almost always the answer. Looking back, I could tell my therapist was too unsure to fully discuss the reasons behind my identification. She only agreed with what I said. And because of how deep I was in the sauce, I denied any questions. For example, she said some people detransition and asked me to be careful, and I shut her down. I fully believed detransition was something terfs made up to destroy us, because I was taught that by other trans people I trusted. On one hand it’s nice that she didn’t invalidate my experiences. But she was also afraid to give her own input. Same with my current therapist. He never told me my traumas could be the reason I was trans, he only agreed with me when I figured out that was the case for me. He helped me elaborate. But questioning someone’s gender identity just isn’t something you do, even if it could help them out in the long run. Even if you mean it in the kindest way and genuinely want to help. And gender therapists, as far as I’ve understood, leap to medical transition, too. We think that medical transition saves lives, but we don’t question why they do. Nor do we explore other treatment options.

So I don’t exclude trans people from my feminism, but I do question the nature of being trans. I don’t want to erase the reality of GID, either. The nature of radical feminism requires us to question the constructs of gender because of how they’ve been used against us, and so it makes us critical of current developments in the world of gender, too. I’m not here to force anyone to detransition, either, but I want people to look at the reasons why they want to transition, especially if you relate to my experiences.

Wishing you the best, too!

#detrans discussion #detrans experience #radblr #lost.txt #radfem safe #radfems do interact #radfems please interact #asks

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jungkxook · 3 years

Text

—midnight getaway. (m)

⟶ pairing: jung wooyoung x fem!reader

⟶ genre: sprinkle of youtuber!wooyoung + fluff / smut

⟶ words: 6,488

⟶ rating: 18+

⟶ summary: a “romantic” getaway surrounded by your friends leads to an interesting night alone with wooyoung

⟶ warnings: pwp, wooyoung says baby a lot bc he’s in love, some teasing woo, exhibitionism, doggy style, sort of praise kink, ass play (fingering, fem!recieving), breast play/fondling, finger sucking, riding, unprotected sex, creampie

⟶ note: this is the first fic i’ve written in a while and my first ateez fic no one come for me pls also this is dedicated to the lovely @kithtaehyung !! thank you for always encouraging me and my wooyoung antics!! 💛

p.s. this is shamelessly inspired by this wooyoung selfie!!

“Ugh. You obviously like her.”

The begrudging sigh comes from Yeosang, narrowly giving Wooyoung a heart attack when he realizes that you’re still within earshot. This wouldn’t have been so much of an issue had Yeosang not been so clearly talking about you to Wooyoung, though he barely has any time to recollect himself. Instead, sprawled out on the poolside of the villa the group had rented out for their week-long vacation in Jeju Island, Wooyoung firstly decides that he has no idea what Yeosang’s talking about.

“We’re just friends,” Wooyoung retorts.

“A friend you invite with you on a romantic getaway?” Yeosang asks with a wolfish grin.

Wooyoung shakes his head. He can still see you through the windows of the villa, now in the kitchen talking to Hongjoong. You’re all bright-eyed and glowing from the sun, in a swimsuit you had been putting to use just a few minutes ago when you took a dip in the pool. “Some romantic getaway, considering there’s seven idiots in the same house as us. Also thought this trip was meant to have no distractions.”

Which isn’t really a lie, because while their trip to Jeju was mostly for their YouTube channels, it was also meant to serve as a well-deserved break for the boys, and their leisure work of choice wasn’t exactly taxing and the majority of their trip so far has been spent simply enjoying themselves. Hongjoong had been so adamant too that there would be nothing to hinder them during their well deserved break. And of course you jumped at the offer to tag along when Wooyoung asked you, because you were his best friend but, moreover, his best supporter when it came to his passion and his videos.

“Yeah,” San hums nonchalantly from within the pool. He had been one of the few to jump in with you earlier, “but I don’t think friends flirt with each other on a daily basis.”

“Not to mention your video was all about her,” Jongho adds from beside Wooyoung. “I thought we were supposed to be promoting tourism in Jeju, not Y/N.”

That was a bit of an exaggeration. Sure, you had featured in a lot of the video Wooyoung had only just posted for his “Our Side of the Story” series he was doing (mostly daily vlogs, or aesthetic short films that you’ve always loved ━ much like the others, who have found a way to incorporate their love for music, dance, cooking, and everything in between in their vlogs), but you always made an appearance when you were so close with him. His viewers were used to it by this point, safe for the occasional questioning comments as to whether or not you two were dating. This video in particular saw you having the most fun in a while, frolicking the streets of the city, sprinting across the beach into the shallows of the ocean to try and splash Wooyoung with water; shaved ice shared between you and him and the way you snuck a bite of his when he was preoccupied, bike rides along the waterfront, and clambering along hiking trails so you could pose in a field of flowers that you had so desperately wanted to see.

Now, Wooyoung gives a roll of his eyes. “Funny. I don’t know what you guys are talking about.”

“Yeah, sure,” Yeosang sighs again. “When are you gonna tell her the truth?”

“The video already kind of did,” Jongho points out tauntingly. “If I was Y/N, I would have already realized.”

“Yeah━” San is beaming now as he clambers out of the pool, “but if you don’t want her, Woo, can I make a pass at her? Y’know, just to help take her off your hands━ Ow! What the hell?”

San jumps suddenly when Wooyoung chucks one of the pillows off of the lawn chair at his head.

“Keep your hands off her━” Wooyoung chastises. It’s meant mostly as a joke, but he worries when he recognizes a small part of him seems to care a little too much.

The others seem to find it funny at least, erupting into howling laughter that’s quick to fade when you wander back out to the pool and throw yourself next to Wooyoung.

“They’re definitely starting to catch on.”

Wooyoung lets out a weary sigh, though you’re starting to find it difficult to focus as he continues to kiss down your throat.

So, maybe if any of the boys walked in and saw the both of you in such a compromising position, they would be indescribably confused while also preparing to point an accusatory finger at Wooyoung for technically lying to them. But it isn’t really a lie, and certainly not one neither he nor you were keen on keeping for very long. It’s just that it seemed a whole lot easier to keep your newfound two month relationship with Wooyoung a secret for a small while.

It was mostly to give the both of you enough time to enjoy yourselves thoroughly without the prying eyes of your friends (who, while always supportive, are already passionately invested in your lifelong friendship with Wooyoung, pointing out his feelings for you even far before he could decipher them), their vlogging lifestyle, and their fans, while also waiting for the proper time to expose the truth. After the Jeju trip, you had both promised each other. But that plan was beginning to look more and more faulty as time passes.

What was supposed to be an innocent trip to Jeju with your friends turned into a tricky game in which Wooyoung had entirely different plans that consisted of you only. Specifically, how many times he can find you alone away from the boys to have his way with you. By now, night has since fallen and, after a short duration of time unwinding around a small bonfire in the backyard, the boys had all since retreated to their own rooms. You’re positive most are already long asleep and the ones that aren’t are beginning to nod off, exhausted after a long day and drowsy with liquor from the night of drinking. You’re fortunate Wooyoung at least first chose to find you alone in your room of the villa, but you still panic. Because Wooyoung should be sleeping in his shared room with Hongjoong down the hall from yours, yet here he was.

“My video today probably didn’t help,” Wooyoung adds.

You hum in response. “I don’t know if sneaking into my room will help with that either.”

At this, Wooyoung grins wide. “It’s fine. Hongjoong’s passed out cold. You should hear his snores. Plus━” He presses a kiss to your shoulder. “I couldn’t sleep without wondering how quickly you can cum.”

You nearly choke as you hear the words fall from Wooyoung’s mouth.

But it wasn’t his fault ━ he has needs too.

The first night of your trip called for a joyous celebration at a nearby restaurant that resulted in everyone being blissfully drunk by the time you returned to the villa. You had gotten so dressed up for the occasion that Wooyoung hated to see it go to waste, adorned in a pretty floral sundress ━ one that has always been his favourite (and, no, he promises that’s not solely because of how nice your boobs look in it, though that’s definitely a plus). If the boys could hear his thoughts now, they’d certainly pick him apart.

The house, however big and spacious it may be, is certainly not empty. Even just next door to your room is the shared room both Mingi and San are in. This is a fact you choose to remind your dear boyfriend of now. “The boys are sleeping.”

“Screw the guys,” Wooyoung groans into your neck. His strong arms slide around your middle from behind, pulling you into an all too familiar and warm embrace. He’s caught you just before you can shed your dress and slip into something more comfortable, all radiant and shimmering from a day out in the sun. You melt almost immediately against his chest as he nibbles on the skin just below your ear, on the corner of your jaw. He whispers ardently, “You look really pretty today. You always do, but especially today.”

A gentle smile spreads across your face. You instinctively reach out behind you to rest your hand on the nape of his neck, fingers tugging at the hair there. “I wore this dress just for you. I know it’s your favourite.”

“Yeah, because your tits look amazing in it,” he snickers. As if to emphasize this, he reaches down slyly to cup one of your breasts over the material of your dress, giving it a squeeze.

“Well, now you’re just trying to distract me into bed with you.”

“Is it working?” he asks hopefully, a smug grin on his face.

You snicker, fidgeting in his hold to face him and patting at his shoulder. “Maybe if we weren’t surrounded by a group of seven drunk men who could potentially hear and walk in on me sucking you off at any moment.”

But Wooyoung has already waited all day for the boys to leave you two alone. Waiting any longer may as well have felt like an eternity in a certain type of special hell that he wasn’t exactly keen on.

“And?” A sudden smirk stretches across his face. He leans in close to you, lips brushing faintly against your ear. “You didn’t have a problem letting me fuck you against the practice room mirror the other day.”

You swat lightly at his chest, scoffing suddenly. “Wooyoung!”

But he has a point. In all fairness, it had been his idea to take you against the practice room mirror when the boys had gone home and you were dropping off food to your poor boyfriend still working late at night. You certainly hadn’t complained then when he had you coming around his cock with the practice room door left unlocked. It’s such a Wooyoung thing to say too, being that he’s not often caught off guard, especially when he’s so blatant and confident about all things sex.

“Can’t you keep it in your pants for one night, Woo?”

“No, he’s in pain,” he pouts childishly. He bites playfully at the tip of your nose.

You sputter for air, dissolving into a fit of laughter. “You did not just call your dick a he━”

“Okay, I’m in pain,” he corrects. He starts kissing down and back up your neck. “It’s not my fault you look extra hot today. Besides, you looked like you were having so much fun today. Is it so wrong for me to want to keep pampering my beautiful girlfriend?”

“With your dick?”

“Yes, with my dick.”

You snort.

“And━” He drags out the word purposely, a playful twinkle in his eyes. “I don’t even want you to suck me off, by the way. All I want is to fuck you senseless right now.”

Oh.

His words send a nerve right down to your core. Your thighs instinctively press together at the thought.

All things considered, you’re not any better. There was no denying how devastatingly attractive your boyfriend always looked, but especially today. A well-deserved break and the Jeju sun did him well, with a beautiful tan starting to glow on his face, free of any make-up or cover-ups. The usual stress of city life and work doesn’t weigh heavy on his brows anymore, and though his hair has gotten longer, it’s a neat and pretty mess ━ a little unruly from the sun and chlorine, and from having taken it down from its half-ponytail, but pretty nonetheless ━ with the under half of it bleached blonde and the top half dyed black. Dressed in nothing but a casual old t-shirt and a pair of board shorts, he’s both wholesomely cute and yet sexy at the same time.

And, while you are surrounded by a group of rowdy boys, Wooyoung isn’t necessarily wrong. He always seems to have a knack for making anything romantic enough if he tries, attributed to his charming ways. A night of lovemaking (or whatever he has in mind) in your room with a beachside view is, all things considered, kind of romantic.

You purse your lips now. “Think they’re all asleep?”

“With how wasted they are? Absolutely,” Wooyoung says brightly. “I tripped over a shoe in our room and Hongjoong didn’t even move.”

It’s risky, sure, but the sudden yearning to be with Wooyoung was almost debilitating. There was no doubt you could both get away with having sex in a packed house, right? Either way, it doesn’t really seem to matter. You’ve already been persuaded, and Wooyoung knows.

He pulls you in for a kiss and you let him get carried away for a moment, reveling in the way he needily nips and sucks at your lower lip. Then, finding a second of clarity, you can be heard saying against his mouth breathlessly, “We’ll have to be quiet.”

“Mmm,” he hums distractedly. “So quiet.”

But that was like asking Wooyoung not to breathe. It’s this passing thought, and the way he pulls and tugs you over to sit on his lap as he sinks onto the edge of the bed in a desperate haste, that has you giggling. He leaves a trail of sloppy kisses down to the underside of your jaw and then along your throat.

You tug at the hair at the nape of his neck as you begin to rut your hips against his slowly. “You look really handsome today, baby. It’s nice seeing you so relaxed for once.”

His stare meets yours suddenly, all sparkling and awed. He grips your waist and presses you a little more firmly against his hips so you can feel his semi-hard dick against your inner thigh. “Ugh,” he sighs, “say that again and I’ll bust a nut right here and now.”

Another giggle meets his ears, but this time it’s a little less focused as it splinters off into a whimper the longer you continue to grind against him. You decide to humour him. “I saw your vlog. It was pretty.”

He audibly whines now, his heart threatening to burst through his chest. “Yeah? I worked hard on it.”

“Is that how you see me?” You think back to the video and how you looked, the soft music overlapping it all.

“Yeah,” he deadpans, “like that piece of washed up kelp you tried throwing at me today━”

“You’re so━”

“I’m joking. Of course that’s how I see you, but that’s only a fraction of what you look like to me. A camera doesn’t do you justice.”

“So you think I’m pretty?” You snicker.

“So pretty.” He kisses you again, this time a little more earnestly. He sighs dreamily against your lips, “No, actually. If my dick isn’t in you in the next minute, I’m gonna go insane.”

A delighted simper sounds from you. “Don’t even have to cum, just as long as you do━”

Your jaw drops open as you find an angle that has you pushing your clit against his clothed dick just right. But even though you had so innocently offered to only get him off, part of the fun was seeing how quickly and how many times he could make you cum before finishing himself off. You deserve it, after all.

“God, you’re such a good girl,” he moans. He takes a moment to appreciate you in your current state. You, straddling his lap, eager hips moving against his with your brows pinched in concentration, the pretty material of your dress hiking up around your thighs. He reaches down, palms rough as they grip at the soft flesh of your thighs. “Look at you, already so needy for me. It’s so fucking sexy.”

Wooyoung fidgets beneath you. He burrows his face in the crook of your neck, nipping at your throat.

“How do you want me first, princess?” he asks sweetly now, peppering kisses along your throat, tongue soothing the marks he’s left behind. “Want my fingers in you?”

“N-No━” You croak. “Just wanna feel your dick.”

Excitement prickles at the tips of his fingers as he massages circles against your hips. “In your mouth or in you?”

“In me,” You rasp. “Now. Please, Woo━”

He marvels for a moment at how he’s so stupidly in love with you and your pretty words despite them having such dirty implications, and he hastens to please you. A wolfish grin tugs at his lips as he smothers them against your mouth, but then the giddy sensation of finally getting to have his cock buried in your walls overcomes him. He murmurs into a wet kiss, “As much as I love this dress, let’s get it off of you.”

He hastens to help you shove the straps of your dress down your shoulders, then off your arms. Then, he watches as you stand up to shimmy your way out of it, the material pooling at your feet, exposing your figure and the fact that you’re not even wearing a bra. The swell of your breasts meets his eyes first, and you’ve barely just kicked your way out of your panties when he’s pulling you onto his lap again, warm mouth latching onto one of your breasts. His lips wrap around your nipple, teeth nibbling on the sensitive bud. He can’t seem to get enough, moving to bite and suck at the soft flesh all over, shifting from one to the other, then down the valley of your breasts. A moan falls from your lips, hands pulling harshly at his hair as you push him further into your chest.

“Wooyoung…” You whine. “We gotta be quick.”

Though he wants nothing more than to mark up your chest all over, he relents only when he remembers that the boys are nearby. “Okay, okay━ Here━”

He grabs at your waist, shifting you around until you’re on your back splayed out beneath him. Towering over you, he pushes the material of his shorts down, pulling his aching dick from the tight confinements. Your eyes fall to the way he fists himself hurriedly, tip all red and glistening with precum, and the one prominent vein bulging along his length. You bite at your lip, legs instinctively spreading wider for him.

“Are we really gonna do this?” he asks, excited. “With the guys here?”

“Think it’s too late to ask when we’re both already naked,” You giggle. You remind him again, this time a little weaker, “Just remember to be quiet.”

He hums in response. Then, he teases you by running the length of his hard dick against your slick folds, already dripping with slick arousal.

“God, baby,” he groans, “you’re so wet already.” He taps the tip of his cock against your pussy, the sudden jolt sending your head spinning. As he rubs himself on you, the sticky wetness glides along the prominent vein of his length and spreads messily out to the top of your inner thighs. “Did I do all this to you?”

“Woo, no teasing,” You chastize in a small whine. A shiver runs down your spine at the feeling, and you hate having to resist all his teasing touches. “What if someone tries coming in?”

He flashes you a shit-eating grin. “Let them. If it’s Seonghwa, even better. I can finally get payback for when he purposely ate some girl out on my bed.”

You snort lazily, stifling your giggles. “Focus, baby.”

“I am focused,” he says smugly. He emphasizes this by pressing his dick a little harder against your folds, teasing the tip of it against your entrance. “With you spread out like this for me, all sexy━ Fuck, I’m so focused.”

But what he doesn’t tell you is that the thought alone of one of the boys walking in on the both of you is enough to excite him to no end. He can imagine it now, one of them wandering into the room while you’re writhing beneath Wooyoung, taking his dick so well, moaning nothing but his name. He yearns to feel you all at once, hurrying to please you.

Without warning, he pushes himself into you, cock stretching you wide in just the way you both like. Almost immediately, low gasps and groans sound from the both of you.

“Ah, f-fuck! Woo━” You smother your sudden cries with a hand clamping over your mouth.

“Shit, I know,” he sputters for air. His voice is heavy in your ear, a low grunt only for you to hear. “You feel so fucking good, baby━”

His head is swimming even just at the way your walls wrap around his tip so snug. He pushes himself into you the rest of the way, bottoming out with a sudden forceful and indulgent thrust when━

The headboard slams against the wall, exceptionally loud.

“Fuck, Wooyoung━ Woo━” You grip at his arms. “The bed.”

His eyes meet yours, stunned momentarily as you wait and listen. A minute passes, but the house continues to remain silent.

“It’s okay. Even if they do hear, it’s not as if they probably won’t know what we’re doing,” Wooyoung points out, matter-of-fact. “We haven’t exactly been very careful lately.”

“Still,” You insist. Your walls throb around his hard dick, desperate for some sort of movement. “It’ll give me some peace of mind.”

His heart swoons at your timidness, and though he has fun teasing you, he would never actually want to risk getting caught by one of the boys (however many close calls he’s already had with you) or, worse, upsetting you to the point of no return.

In the next moment, Wooyoung pulls out of you, then pushes back in again, this time less forceful. He swears he tries to be wary of the bed and of making too much noise but, much to both of your dismay, while the frame doesn’t bang against the wall too noticeably, the bed still creaks beneath you.

Wooyoung grits his teeth. He tries again, then one more time, and though your head lolls back at the sensation of him stretching you wide, you meet his gaze with your own apprehensive hazy one. Even Wooyoung’s patience is wearing thin when all he wants to do is tear you apart ━ that, and the slight creak of the bed is enough to start driving him insane.

“Fuck this,” his pace stutters to a halt, “let’s get on the floor. Can you get on your hands and knees for me, baby?”

“Good idea.” Your heart jolts in your chest from the excitement.

Within a matter of seconds, he’s parting from you, leaving you momentarily stunned at the loss of warmth. He helps you to your feet so that the both of you can sink to the floor on your knees. Before you can drop into all fours, Wooyoung stops you by reaching out for the blanket on the bed and tucking it underneath the both of you, but mostly to soften the ground underneath your knees. When he catches you surveying him with a fond gleam in your eyes, he quirks a brow.

“What? It’s just so you don’t get too uncomfortable,” he says sweetly, peppering a few kisses along your shoulder. “Is this good?”

“Amazing.” Your heart swells at all his gentle touches. You catch his lips on yours, faintly murmuring, “I love you. Like, so much.”

You can feel his grin against your mouth. “You know I love you too. And as much as I would also love to hear you go on about how I’m the most perfect boyfriend, I need to be in you right now.”

A pretty giggle meets his ears, and he marvels for a second how you’re so quick to oblige. Propping yourself up on your elbows, your ass juts out in his direction. You give it a little tempting wiggle, and he hurries to position himself behind you. With one hand on the small of your back, he guides you back down his length.

“Ah━ Fuuuck━” He moans. “Arch your back a little more for me, baby.”

You do as you’re told, leaning forward just enough on your elbows and sticking your hips back to meet his as he sinks balls deep into your core. Then, he’s crumbling apart, all breathy panting as he tries to focus.

“Shit, baby━”

“Mmm━”

“You’re so tight. So wet. I’m not gonna last,” he pouts, as if it’s a genuine disappointment. He watches as he pulls out of your heat just enough before shoving himself back in, his dick covered in a glistening sheen of your arousal. You’re so damn wet, he wonders how he hasn’t slipped from you yet. His hands grip and tug at your ass, spreading you to see the way your cunt pulsates and stretches around his dick. So perfect, almost as if you were made for him. “Tell me. Wanna hear how good you feel right now.”

“S-So good,” You mumble drunkenly. “God, you’re so good, Woo. Fuck━!”

His gaze droops down to your breasts, bouncing with each thrust of his hips into yours. He reaches around and grabs at one of your boobs. The gentle shake of the soft flesh in his palms is always his favourite feeling, and he can’t help but squeeze at them now because, god, he really does love your tits. If he had all the time in the world, he would do anything to fuck himself between your boobs, and cum all over your chest ━ but that will have to wait for now.

“Ah━ Fuck━ Wish I could take my time with you right now,” he moans, planting sloppy kisses along your shoulder. “I can’t wait till we’re alone. Gonna take care of you so well, baby.”

“Y-Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he grunts. He reaches down with his other hand, thumb pressing against the tight hole of your ass. The sensation alone is enough to have you nearly keeling over, a strangled cry of pleasure ripping from you. “Want you coming on my tongue so bad. Gonna fuck you against every surface too. You deserve it. You’re always so good to me, princess.”

“Only for you,” You whimper. If he wasn’t so pressed for time, the affirmation alone would have been more than enough to make him melt in your very hands. But his dick is still so hard, and your pussy is still so wet, all he can focus on is not slipping from your walls with every thrust of his hips. “Ah, Wooyoung! Y-You’re so━ So hard━”

You bite harshly at your lip when a loud moan threatens to spill from you. You bury your face in the blanket around you, clutching so tightly at the material. A part of Wooyoung finds it amusing, if only because, if the boys are awake and don’t hear your lewd moans, there’s no doubt they won’t be able to hear the sound of skin against skin as his hips slap against your ass.

“Let me hear you, baby,” he coaxes now. “Moan out loud for me.” When you shake your head, he snickers. “Want it harder? Will that help you?”

He gives an experimental roll of his hips, a little rougher than usual. It sends you teetering forward, a broken groan tumbling from you that’s left muffled by the blanket. He can hear you mumble wantonly, “Don’t be a tease.”

A cheshire-like grin spreads across his face. “Here━ Come sit on my dick. Wanna feel you so deep━”

His words make you moan softly, followed by the way he pulls out of you just quickly enough to sit back against the bed. He tugs you onto his lap and you follow suit, spreading your legs further apart as you sink onto his leaking dick. Down, down, down, until it almost feels as if he’s hitting your cervix, and suddenly you’re not so sure you’ll be able to keep it together any longer. That, mixed with the way he’s gazing at you, all hooded eyed and alluring, you’re very close to dissolving into a mess right in his very arms.

“Ah━ Ah━ Fuck, baby━” You grip at his shoulders as you adjust to the new feeling, hips squirming above his. “Wooyoung, please━”

But your words fall short. The desperate plea that hinges in your voice fades into nothing more than the urgent need to feel more of him, to have him absolutely wreck you, as you begin to rock your hips back and forth on his dick.

“Please what, baby?” he taunts lazily. But he knows what he’s doing, slyly beckoning you to make a mess, and moan for him.

His palms are warm as they slide up your sides, then around your back, hugging you close to his chest. He thrusts his hips up just once into you, sending you into a haste that has you lifting yourself up and then back down his cock. As you adopt a steady and reckless pace that has you bouncing on his length, he watches your every reaction. The way your face contorts at the sheer pleasure, brows pinched so hard in concentration, teeth sinking into your lower lip. Your hands reach out to thread through his long locks, pretty blonde tresses running through the seams of your fingers. You tug lightly at the root, earning a low groan from him.

“Fuck, Y/N━” His head rolls back against the mattress at your quick pace. “You’re so fucking sexy━ So desperate for my dick━ Ah━”

He moans suddenly, only this time it’s less muffled than before. Whether he does it the first time to tease you or simply because he had gotten carried away, you aren’t quite sure. Either way, it’s enough to startle you, even amongst the daze you’re in.

“Wooyoung━” Your voice is a small warning, but it lacks any severity when it splinters into a whine. “Not so loud.”

“They’re━ Ah, fuck━ sleeping━”

You meet his mischievous stare with your own heedful one. Your pace slows, if only just, and you’re certain this time that when he moans even louder, it’s entirely on purpose.

“Woo!” You clamp a hand softly over his mouth, smothering the tail end of his crude groan.

The grin that forms on his face beneath your hand is evident of his amusement of his toying with you but it turns sluggish quickly. The sight to see is hot enough, with the drowsy lopsided smirk poking out from underneath your hand as he watches you continue to ride him, now a measured gyrating against his own hips. When he realizes you’ve chosen to keep your hand over his mouth, he reaches up to grab a hold of your wrist, his large fingers splaying out and then up over your knuckles.

“Come on, baby. It’s okay. Let it out,” he hums. He kisses at your fingertips, tongue swiveling around to suck on your digits delicately. “Not even one tiny moan? Let me hear that pretty voice of yours.”

He can feel your thighs begin to shake around him and, judging by the crescendoing of whimpers tumbling from your mouth, he senses you’re close. Your free hand still grips at his hair, this time a little tighter as you try to anchor yourself in place to rock your hips a little faster. Wooyoung hisses delightfully at the feeling, a small lethargic chuckle rumbling from deep within his chest.

Rough hands grab at your waist now, shifting you around abruptly until you’re splayed out on the floor on your back with him hovering over you. His length stays wedged snugly in your walls, never once slipping, and as he settles against your chest, he lifts one of your legs up and over his shoulder. An animalistic growl slips from him at your pinched face, and the way your cunt starts to squeeze around him. With this angle that his hips pound into yours, his cock hits so deep into your core, pummeling against your cervix again and again.

“H-Harder━ Wooyoung━” You pant. “Please━ I’m gonna━”

Finally, a moan sounds from you. Loud and unabashed, a little broken and exhausted, but beautiful to Wooyoung’s ears nonetheless. In fact, it’s so sexy of a noise that it’s enough to nearly push him over the edge but he relents, if only just for a little longer.

“Ah, there’s my favourite sound,” he smirks. His tongue lavs at the underside of your jaw, and your hand finds itself tangled in his hair once more. “Gonna be a good girl and let the boys hear you now?”

You try with all your might to silence yourself, but the task proves more and more difficult. A few more slams of his hips into yours, and you’re crumbling apart right before his eyes.

“Fuck━ Wooyoung━”

“That’s it, baby,” he grunts into your ear. “Cum for me.”

As you come, the sudden gush of wetness around your core coats his length and he almost accidentally slips from your cunt. You’re clenched so tightly around him, Wooyoung feels as if he has to gasp for air to stay focused. His eyes still stay trained on you, watching as your face contorts as you writhe beneath him. But it’s your shameless moaning that sets him off, albeit still softer than usual but much louder than he was expecting from you with the boys so close by.

“Ah━ You’re so fucking hot━” he whines. “Gonna cum━”

Every thrust of his hips sends you bobbing up and down, and as you come down from your high the pleasurable feeling of his hard cock still burrowed in your sensitive walls has you whimpering softly. Your legs try to separate further, beckoning him for more.

“Cum in me, Youngie,” you beckon dazedly. “Wanna feel it so bad━”

“Oh, fuck━” he gasps. “Can I?”

“Y-Yes.”

“You’re so good to me, baby. Aren’t you?”

His pace quickens, hips snapping into yours urgently. One final shuddering thrust and he’s overwhelmed by his orgasm, cock pulsating within your aching walls as his cum fills you up. He has to bury his face in the crook of your neck to muffle his moans, listening to the sharp gasp for air you take when you feel his release.

He rides out his high in a few more leisure rolls of his hips, though he seems more concerned now with kissing your throat slowly. He gently unravels your leg from his shoulder, then slumps against you like the comfortable heavy weight that he is. His dick lays softening still buried within your walls, now leaking with his cum.

“Have I ever told you how amazing you are?” You hear him sigh dreamily into your neck. “‘Cause you are.”

“Almost daily,” You concur with a giggle. Your own fingers smooth out his hair, fixing the messy strands, and he croons with delight. He leaves a trail of sweet kisses up along your throat, then your jaw, and then the corner of your mouth. Safe for the laboured breathing as you both try to calm your shrill hearts, you’re made aware so suddenly of just how quiet the room suddenly is. “There’s no way the guys slept through all of that.”

“I’m sure they did.” Wooyoung nibbles gingerly at your lip. “There’s nothing to worry about. Especially right now. I’m so tired. We can deal with the potential consequences later.”

You snort. “How did I know that’s exactly what you would say?”

You catch him smirking before he plants one last kiss on your lips. Somehow, he’s able to pry himself off of you long enough to slip into his shorts laying discarded on the floor before disappearing outside of the room into the darkened hallway. He returns moments later with a damp towel to help clean up the sticky mess between your legs, then tugs you back onto the bed with him.

“They’ll see you sneaking out of my room if you sleep here,” You point out through a yawn.

“I’ll get up before them,” he insists. “Just give me an hour with you, like this.”

You can’t resist the urge.

At the very least, you fall asleep first in his arms, his fingers playing with your hair. He must slip away from you at some point during the night, unraveling himself carefully from your sleeping figure to retreat to his own room. You’ll tell the boys eventually of your relationship with Wooyoung, you swear.

But for now, there, under the covers of the bed, you have all the time in the world to enjoy yourself with Wooyoung in pure, unadulterated silence.

In the morning when you wake up, you join your boyfriend with the rest of the boys downstairs in the kitchen for breakfast.

You’re the last to arrive, having wanted to take your time in the shower ━ a fact that Wooyoung laments, because he wanted nothing more than to shower with you to “save water” (which really just translates to more sex), but with only two bathrooms and nine people, the feat seemed impossible. Now, you sidle into the seat next to Wooyoung at the kitchen table, smiling down at him when his eyes flicker to you which seems to go unnoticed by the others.

“How was your night?” Yunho asks passively once you’ve settled into place. “Did you sleep well?”

You nod, as Wooyoung answers, “Best sleep of my life.”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” This amused offhanded scoff comes from San under his breath. It causes Mingi to almost choke on his sip of orange juice as he snorts into the glass.

“What was that?” Wooyoung asks.

“Oh, nothing,” San says. The smirk on his face says otherwise. “Thought we heard some loud noises last night. It was weird.”

Then there’s Mingi, leaning across the table to catch your attention alone. He shoots you a more merciful look, though he still seems entertained nevertheless when he whispers to you, “You have something on your neck.”

Your hand instinctively clamps onto your throat, over the spot Mingi points to as you mentally curse yourself. While you had been so preoccupied the night before trying not to make any noise, you forgot to warn Wooyoung against leaving any noticeable marks on your body ━ a bad habit of his, and your fatal mistake for forgetting to check the morning after.

The others are fortunately not paying attention, already absorbed in their own conversations, but the horror of so clearly being found out by San and Mingi sends you into a frenzy. It even seems to alarm Wooyoung judging by the way he starts laughing nervously, though maybe that’s because your knee bashes against his under the table and sends him jumping in his seat.

Clearly, you have a lot of explaining to do. Eventually.

The last thing you hear San say before he and Mingi howl with laughter seems to make even the charmingly confident Wooyoung slightly frazzled, and leaves you all the more confused.

“Some romantic getaway, huh?”

⟶ Feedback is always appreciated!

#wooyoung #wooyoung smut #wooyoung fluff #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung x you #wooyoung x y/n #ateez #ateez smut #ateez scenarios #wooyoung scenarios #wooyoung imagine #jung wooyoung #jung wooyoung smut #wooyoung oneshot #ateez oneshot #ateez x reader #jung wooyoung fluff #ateez fanfic #wooyoung imagines

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mimzy-writing-online · 3 years

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You probably know this by now, I don't know if you keep up with Whumptober, but one of the prompts this year includes "blindness". I'm not blind but based on your posts about writing blind characters, and based on how I would feel if one of my disabilities were used as a whump prompt, I'm not super comfortable with it. I was wondering what your thoughts are on blindness being a Whumptober prompt.

(unironically and with feeling) thanks, I hate it.

Yes, I’m familiar with Whumptober, but I’ve never participated myself and I haven’t seen this year’s prompts.

Edit: I later did see the prompts and check out the blog. I think it's a good set of prompts and I look forward to all the promising content, especially since some of my favorite tropes are there. To be clear before you read this, I have no problem with Whumptober2021 or whump in general. This is not the first time blindness has been included for a list of whump prompts, and it won't be the last.

This post directed at the concept of "blindness" as a whump prompt and why I think it's a bad idea. The intended audience is individual writers thinking about future projects.

The timing of this is almost too perfect because I read a fanfic earlier this week that would meet that prompt exactly. Tags included whump, blindness, and angst with a happy ending. Now whump, hurt/comfort, and angst with a happy ending are tags I enjoy reading, but blindness as whump has a specific message to it.

To explain that message, I want to discuss what whump is. Many readers are already familiar with the genre, but I think taking the specific definitions and picking apart what it means and what expectations we carry when reading whump fanfiction

Urban Dictionary defines it as: taking a character and putting them through physical and/or mental torment and is typically followed by the same character being treated for their traumas. To indicate the characters place in the situation they’d typically be called a whumpee (the character being hurt/comforted), the whumper (the character that causes harm and trauma), and the caretaker (the character designated the helping/healing/comforting the whumpee).

Fanlore has a page for whump that explains it in depth, including where it started in fanfiction, examples of whump, and even a list of “popular targets” in different fandoms. (Warning: you might find yourself called out on the popular targets list)

“The term whump (or whumping) generally refers to a form of Hurt/Comfort that is heavy on the hurt and is often found in gen stories. The exact definition varies and has evolved over time. Essentially, whump involves taking a canon character, and placing them in physically painful or psychologically-damaging scenarios. Often this character is a fan favorite…”

To add to that, I think an important detail is the distinction Fanlore makes between hurt/comfort and whump:

“While some communities and fandoms may use whump as a synonym for hurt/comfort, there is still a recognition that whump refers to darker and more extreme scenarios. And there are still whump fics been written that have very little, or no comfort at the end of the story.”

The big appeal of hurt/comfort is getting to both explore the darker sides of pain and then experience the catharsis of being taken care of, of being supported by your loved ones as you recover from the trauma. The character is the proxy for experiencing those highs and lows while you yourself are safe at home.

I personally don’t read much/any whump without some h/c involved, but I’m happy there are stories out there for people who do enjoy it. I’m not here to judge what you like reading or what you do to your characters.

What I want is to express how blindness, my disability, used as a whump prompt personally makes me feel and what message it sends to me, to others, and how that message affects my daily life.

Whump undeniably involves watching a character suffer through something painful and traumatic.

My use of the word “suffer” is what I want you to focus on.

Vision loss can be painful and traumatic. I personally developed an anxiety disorder in response to vision loss. Others experience depression. For some it might result in relapsing into old, maladaptive coping mechanisms like drug use, self harm, or eating disorders.

A big part of my anxiety was how people reacted to my vision loss. It was a cause of their stress. They were worried because they genuinely believed I would never live a happy life without normal vision, and that my life would only be struggle and pain.

I recently saw an old friend who hadn’t heard about my vision loss. The conversation was awkward, but the worst part was how they reacted as though I had experienced an insurmountable tragedy. And even when I assured them I’m happy with my life, they clearly didn’t believe me. They acted like I was just lying or in denial.

I love that people want to empathize with my situation and ask themselves what they would do in my situation, but I hate when the conclusion they come to is something along the lines of “I could never do that, I’d be too miserable thinking about everything I lost, I’d never be able to do anything I enjoyed ever again.” But I did go blind. And I’m not miserable, I’m actually happy with the direction my life is going, and I still enjoy my hobbies, even if I engage with them differently.

I’m not suffering. My life didn’t end with vision loss. It’s not ruined, broken, or worthless.

I read a fanfic that was tagged with whump, blindness, and angst with a happy ending. A general synopsis of the plot: the whumpee had gone blind due to a curse. It was true love’s kiss that broke the curse. Even from the summary I knew it was going to end with whumpee being cured somehow and that I’d leave that fanfic vaguely dissatisfied no matter how good the rest of the fanfic was.

I can say this for the fanfic: the whumpee had already accepted that they would likely be blind for the rest of their life, but everyone around them was treating it as a tragedy that needed to be fixed, working tirelessly for a cure despite the whumpee’s protests that they didn’t have to.

It actually hit home to my personal experience.

I still left it dissatisfied with the ending. I might love curse fics in that fandom, and I love the “true love’s kiss” trope, but it wasn’t enough to distract me from the fact that: an actual person out in the world thought the best happy ending, maybe the only happy ending, would be if the character got their sight back.

(note: I clicked kudos and exited out of the story's page because no fanfic writer deserves unsolicited critique or hate, especially for content I consumed for free and at my own volition.)

Why read a story I knew would disappoint me?

Because blindness representation is so damn rare that I feel like I’m wandering in a desert, dying from thirst and desperate for that oasis. But sometimes that oasis is a mirage and the author is unintentionally telling you that your life is actually awful and you’ll never be fully happy like this. And that is a shit mentality to walk through life with.

I don’t appreciate blindness being a whump plot. I hate it. Hundreds (thousands?) of fanfictions featuring blind characters are about to enter the internet and the overall message is going to be “You poor thing! You must be in so much pain, you must be miserable! Who’s going to save you? Who’s going to comfort you? Wouldn’t it be terrible if there was no one in your life to take care of you? You poor helpless thing!”

And I feel objectified. I feel trivialized. The mirage in the desert is going to become a starch, empty room filled with dozens of water bottles, almost all of them poisoned. My representation is going to hurt me personally, and it’s going to reinforce that idea strangers have about how awful my life must be.

(I returned to school this past month, and every day I’m hesitant to tell someone I’m visually impaired because I don’t want to be treated differently. If I’ve managed to pass as sighted this whole time and then suddenly reveal “oh yeah, I’m visually impaired” I feel this instant silence, this pause of awkwardness as people suddenly question how they’re supposed to treat me. They treated me like a person, and now I’m something strange and unfamiliar.)

I’ve worked so hard to improve representation for blind people, to give internet strangers the exposure to a blind person they need to normalize blindness because I hope that if they’re ever so lucky as to meet a blind person, they’ll treat that person with respect. That hope that another person in the blind community will find a friend they feel comfortable and accepted with. I hope that I’ll meet people who accept my blindness as just another aspect of me (like being bisexual or gender fluid or a writer or a cat lover).

Please don’t turn me and my community into a caricature. Don’t erase everything I’ve worked for with this blog.

To be clear, this is not just me saying "I hate the cure trope" again. This is me saying "the purpose of whump is to painfully hurt your favorite character, and I hate that your idea of pain and suffering is my daily (wonderful) life."

#blindness #whumptober #fanfiction #whump #whumptober 2021 #blind character #disability #ableism #anon

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