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readythefanons · 1 year

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desk dispatch (early May 2023)

writing desk updates from your pal reddy

desk status: under control (patches of the desk's surface are visible, and the stacks do not exceed 3 inches in height = manageable but in the middle of some things)

General notes from April:

I used April's camp NaNo (NaNoWriMo=national novel writing month, which is in November. Camp NaNo is for self-set goals and is held in April and July) to work on an outline! I outlined the Petra/Sylvain fic, and I wrote about 10k >_> the outline is mostly there, but there are a few sections in the middle that could use some more attention

I finally succeeded in winning the "write every day" achievement for (camp) NaNo!!!!!

I posted "Place" in April which is an Adopted!Hilda AU. If you're reading this post, you probably saw at least one of the eleventybillion promos I scheduled for the fic. (five. It was five.) I started that fic in 2020, so it feels great to post it

What's in the can: NOTHING. I have nothing lined up to post. But...

The Leonie fan anthology (AKA Sunflower: A Leonie Fanzine) is shipping/has shipped! I have a fic in that one, and I hope that soonish I'll be able to post that fic to AO3 :) That piece is titled "not a circle, but a spiral"

I am poking the Leonie/Lorenz SciFi AU again. In a fit of productivity, I re-outlined the thing and I hope to poke the draft itself soon.

I wrote and edited 3k of thoughts on pronouns and personhood in the book Ancillary Justice by Ann Leckie. When I finally hit post on that, you'll see it on my book blog @reddy-reads but I might also bump it over here because why not. embarrassment is for other people. (disclaimer: not every blog on tumblr with "reddy" in the name is connected to me, i promise)

Miscellaneous thoughts: outlining

I might... love... outlining? To be determined. But it felt so good to work on the Petra/Sylvain outline, and it felt good to work on the SciFi AU outline. So IF these fics actually get written, then I might never go back to my no-outline ways.

What I liked about it: it was so satisfying to think about all the parts of the story and how they were supposed to fit together. It was useful to be able to plan out which characters would show up when and where. It was useful (but often felt bad) to realize that certain scene ideas I had weren't working (usually because there wasn't enough concept there). It was SO much easier to go "wait this isn't working" after only writing a few sentences instead of pages and pages. It was much easier to go "oh I need to introduce X earlier" in an outline than after writing (and posting!!!) whole chapters. It feels good to have a plan about where the story goes and how it reaches the ending.

Outlining (it's new to me): My other multichapter fics ("all things considered could be worse" in Netflix!Daredevil fandom, and of course the "Pull It Together" duology) were written without an outline! I knew generally what I wanted to happen and how the ending should feel, but I didn't know how I was going to get from A to Z.

(Actually... those fics BOTH started as oneshot responses to prompts on kinkmemes... and... the Petra/Sylvain fic was inspired by a post on a kinkmeme, and it was originally conceived as a oneshot. So, uh, credit for finally recognizing a pattern!)

Why I'm finally trying outlining: I've become increasingly aware that I have limited time and energy. I wish I didn't. I wish I felt limitless, but the last few year-or-so has just taught me that I only have so much bandwidth. (Which is a good lesson, even/especially if it's not really welcome.) So since I'm admitting that I have limited time and energy, why shouldn't I help myself spend more time doing what I enjoy (writing!) and less time doing what I dislike (not writing because I'm stuck). So that's part of why I have this fresh interest in outlining.

The other thing about outlining is that--well Leonie and Lorenz's stories were fundamentally pretty simple. The Matt & Foggy (Daredevil again) story was even simpler because it was a slice of life. It was hard to get truly lost there. The Petra/Sylvain story needs to fit together a little more precisely, and that means prewriting. AKA writing the whole thing, then editing and posting. I'm not looking forward to giving up my post-as-you-go ways, but maybe I'll end up loving it.

The last part of the "why suddenly outline and prewrite" puzzle is a little... uh... it's a little sensitive. I have ideas about Petra and Brigid that I want to express, but the themes involved (colonialism/imperialism) are delicate. I want to give myself the option of really thinking it through & maybe even getting an extra set of eyes on it before putting it out on the whole internet to see.

So that's why I haven't been posting as much. I'm cooking up something big, I hope people will like it.

Final goodies

Fic rec: Ruu has written a Leonie/Lorenz fic called "Of Conduct, Of Manners." The Jane Austen influence wafts off the page. It updates regularly, and the whole thing is already written :D :D :D

Writing podcasts: I like the writing podcast "Writing Excuses" and "Fiction Writing Made Easy with Savannah Gilbo."

Media podcasts: I still adore "Be the Serpent." It's on hiatus but they have an extensive back catalogue. I got so many great media recommendations from them.

Writing essays: I enjoyed Diane Duane's blog post about her outlining style and approach. I used her "grocery shopping list" and it really helped me build my outline's backbone.

Writing essay 2: A discord pal shared this post with me, which helped me get past an outlining block. The bit about "stop writing scenes you don't want to write" was the magic ingredient for me.

Meal Idea: Vegetarian sushi bowl. Make some rice, season it into sushi rice. Add all the yummy veggies you want. Eat and enjoy. (I made the sushi rice, but then I mixed some riced cauliflower into it for extra bonus veggies. For topping I did avocado w a sprinkle of soy sauce, finely cut carrot, Japanese pickles [cucumber and ginger], and edamame. I also had nori to wrap it as I ate because I loooove seaweed.)

#rambling

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buckymylove · 2 years

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Midnight Snacks

Part two of Movie Night

Message: How about like reader wakes up to the sound Steve made while taking a picture ( light sleepr because hydra) and pretends to be asleep ‘till the others leave and then starts to slip out of bucky but he turns out to be awake too and they just have a late night snack or talk about how she’s welcome and referencing from his own experience.

Warnings: food fight! Lol, tons of fluff, mentions of hydra/torture ish?

Word count : 4,400

A/n: MASSIVE thank you and shout out to the wonderful orihimi-19, for helping me with this idea! Sending loads of love.🤍🤍 Im so sorry this took so long, i started this blog when I was in quarantine and have barely had time to write since 🤦‍♀️ Hope this lives up to the first one 😬 xx

Please do not translate or steal any of my works! Reblogs and likes are welcome and much appreciated if you would like! X

'Click'. It was only a faint noise in the background followed by muffled voices that you could barely make out. You tensed for a moment after being woken from your seemingly deep sleep. After the years you spent with Hydra you'd become used to being hyper aware of surroundings even when asleep - not that you ever got much sleep there - and it was a habit that since living with the avengers had slowly began to get better but was still very much there.

You caught the end of someone speaking, you picked up the word "photo". At this point you were beginning to wake but trying to stay completely still and keep up the image of being totally unaware of the happenings around you to calculate your next move in case you were in some sort of danger, briefly forgetting where you were and who you were with.

You suddenly became aware of a weight wrapped, securely but not tightly, around your waist and a warm, weirdly comforting presence behind you.

Then it all made sense. The voice you had heard was Nat's, the word 'photo' came back to your mind and you realised the sound you had heard was a camera. You were at the compound, with the avengers, you're new family. The thing behind you was in fact Bucky, the heavy mass laying over your waist - his beautiful black and gold vibranium arm. You relaxed as you came to your senses and discovered that you were in fact completely safe remembering the movie night that Bucky had so kindly invited you too, you had really enjoyed it but your thoughts went whirling again. When did you fall asleep?

Wait.

Bucky.

Why was Bucky's arm around you? Was he asleep too?

At this your eyes flew open, wide and slightly panicked. You were even more confused when you found the dark room completely empty. The only indicator that you hadn't dreamt up hearing the voices of your fellow avengers just minutes ago were the blankets, throw pillows and snack remnants lying around the room. You turned your head slightly to see that the tv was off so the movie must have finished, maybe they just went to bed? But then why were you and Bucky still there, cuddled up on the sofa? Oh god what if he's uncomfortable? Did I make us end up like this when I fell

asleep? What if he cant move?

You were spiralling in your own head to much to notice Bucky rouse from sleep behind you. He too had trouble getting proper sleep but he had gotten a lot better with his time with the avengers and the nightmares and sleepless nights seemed to be an increasingly rare occasion for him now. He'd felt you fidgeting and caught on to the fact that you'd tensed up. But what concerned him most was the sound of your breathing that had turned short and rapid. He could almost feel the panic coming off you in waves. He was immediately concerned that he had made you uncomfortable when he realised how you were both positioned. He loosened his arm around you and sat up slightly to get a look at your face to see that you were in fact awake, wide eyes staring ahead of you.

"Doll?" He whispered.

You didnt seem to even notice he had woken up.

"Doll?" He spoke just a little bit louder to try to get your attention without startling you. This time, it worked and you jumped slightly and turned quickly in his loose hold to face him. You pulled away from him slightly trying to create space between the two of you whilst still being in his arms.

"I'm so sorry Bucky, I didn't mean to put you in this position" you mumbled frantically. "I shouldn't have come last night im sorry-" "Hey no, doll look, my arm is wrapped around you" he chuckled slightly trying to keep it light and calm you. When that didn't work and he saw that you still looked guilty and uncomfortable, he continued.

"If anything I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable, you fell asleep during the movie and your neck was in an awkward position, I moved you slightly and I guess when we both fell asleep we ended up like this, its really not a problem but I understand if you don't like it. When I came to the compound I didn't like anyone in my personal space, not even Steve. No ones going to be mad at you for needing some time to adjust."

It was mostly dark in the room but the light from the kitchen illuminated his face enough for you to see the soft smile he gave you, you let out a breath you didn't know you'd been holding as you smiled back. He felt a wave of relief as he felt you relax, the tight tension dropping from your shoulders. "Thanks Bucky, it feels good to have someone who knows how I'm feeling" you said quietly. Bucky was almost shocked seeing as that was probably the most you'd ever talked to anyone here but you didn't catch it as he was almost beaming with joy at the fact that you were starting to let some of your walls down. You couldn't calm down the butterflies in your stomach at the sight of his beautiful smile. When you realised you'd been staring at each other for a little while you hurriedly turn your head trying to process the thoughts running through your mind.

"I'm hungry" he declared noticing the tension. You took that as your queue to stand up and he followed then lead the way to the kitchen.

"You?" He turned to ask you. You'd been slowly building up an appetite since being at the compound and you hadn't eaten much all day so you responded, "yeah, I could eat" still quietly but feeling an edge of confidence, certainly better now that it was just you and Bucky. The rest of the team were amazing but being with all of them at once was a bit overwhelming, however the last few weeks had felt a little lonely despite choosing to stay mostly in your room so it was nice to have the company of just Bucky for a while.

He smiled, glad that you had found a part of your voice, and excited to help you find the rest of it so that you could finally feel like yourself after all those years.

He went over to the cabinets, stocked with nearly everything you could imagine thanks to Tony, although if we're being honest it was more for selfish reasons since Tony was so sick of everyone grumbling that there was never any food. Tony was convinced they were all just picky eaters, "earths mightiest heroes my ass you're all a bunch of princesses" was something he had actually said to them before which they certainly did not appreciate and tony ended up in a choke hold courtesy of Nat.

"What ya feelin?" He asked looking from the cabinets back over to you. You were just sort of standing awkwardly by the kitchen island not sure what to do with yourself. Bucky tried to cover his amused smirk as he watched you be- well completely adorable in his opinion.

"You can sit down doll, I'll make ya something"

"Oh no- it’s ok uh thank you though" you didn't want to cause him any trouble, but you did as he suggested and sat down on one of the stalls.

"It's no problem at all, how'd ya feel about pancakes?"

You froze and stared at him with wide eyes for a moment. "Pan cakes? I thought cakes were made in ovens?" You questioned timidly. You felt kinda stupid despite it being none of your fault as you were taken by hydra when you practically still a baby.

You have a very vague and distant memory of sitting in front of cake, 2 single candles on top and someone, you assumed your dad, smiling in front of you. You even remember being handed a small slice of cake on two occasions at hydra. You were young and never told what the reason behind it was.

Bucky couldn't help but chuckle at the confused expression on your face but he felt bad when he saw your face fall.

" 'm sorry doll, you just look real cute when you're confused" 'you always look cute' he wanted to say but stopped himself.

A faint blush dusted your cheeks. You didn't know what you were starting to feel for bucky, you'd never felt it before you just knew it was different and that it was a good feeling.

"Look" he pulled his phone out of his pocket and typed something on it before turning it around so you could see it. There was a picture of a flat yet fluffy bread looking thing on the screen, there was a golden liquid drizzled over the top. You looked at it with shining eyes. "What's the goo stuff?" You asked him, eyes wide with curiosity. Bucky smiled at you, "thats maple syrup, delicious stuff you gotta try it" you finally looked away from the screen to smile up at him, "Ok".

He stood up, sending you a wink before tucking his phone back in his pocket.

He turned back at began grabbing stuff out of the cabinets. You saw him get eggs, flour and a pan out of the cupboards and laying it all out along with some other equipment he needed.

You watched on with curious eyes but felt bad watching him do all the work. "Is there anything I can do to help?" He was about to tell you it was no problem but looked back to see the hopeful expression on your face and once again had to try and hide the small curve of his lips. "If you wanna help then sure. c'mere" you beamed back at him as you clambered of the stall to come stand by him, and bucky made the decision right then that he would do anything to see you smile like that again.

He broke out of his daze when he saw your slightly clueless look, having no idea how to proceed with the items in front of you.

"Ok, im gonna put the stuff in here and you just gotta stir it together, make sure there's no lumps" he said, jokingly pointing his finger at you as if he was giving you a seriously important task. He handed you the whisk and you happily took it waiting for your orders to start mixing. He dumped some flour in the bowl, not bothering to measure since he made them all the time, and then cracked the egg into the bowl. "Mix that while I get the milk."

You did as he said and did your best to make the gooey mess into a smooth mixture as he poured out some milk. You stopped mixing to let him pour the milk in but clearly bucky was a bit too excited for the pancakes as he carelessly dumped the milk in the bowl letting it splash all over the place and getting you right in the face. Your jaw dropped open and bucky tried his absolute best not to laugh. "Oops - sorry doll" he said but you knew he wasn't. You turned to him with furrowed brows, jaw still hanging open and it was at that point that he lost it. He burst out laughing and you tried to look annoyed but ended up laughing with him.

With no idea it where it came from, a wave of confidence came over you and you grabbed a small handful of flour from the bag and through it at him.

He froze when he inhaled a mouthful of the disgusting stuff coughing for a second looking at you in complete shock. You panicked then thinking you'd over stepped but he just grabbed another egg and looked at you. "Oh its on" if you hadn't known he was playing around you would've been slightly scared but you barely had time to react before he smashed the egg on top of your head.

You squealed in horror as you felt in running down your face and scrunched yourself up as if a bucket of ice water had just been dumped down your back. Bucky was howling with laughter, pancakes long forgotten but he totally missed you grabbing a handful of the mixture before you smeared it right over his face. You were surprised at your own actions but couldn't help the uncontrollable giggles as you looked at bucky covered in pancake batter, assuming you looked pretty much the same.

The food fight continued until you'd literally run out of things to dump on each other. The kitchen was a complete mess, you hadn't got any further with making the pancakes and you and Bucky were covered head to toe in a sticky mess but neither of you could care less about any of that while you both sat on the floor howling with laughter and rolling around in the mess you'd created. You hadn't felt this happy literally since you could remember and Bucky felt almost the same way. It wasn't just the chaos you'd created that was making him happy but also the look of pure carefree joy on your face that made him absolutely elated. The laughter eventually died down and you were left staring at each other again but this time it wasn't awkward.

You hadn't realised how close the two of you had gotten until just then, on the floor faces mere inches away from each other. This time you didn't turn away. You couldn't. His eyes were literally mesmerising, the beautiful sea of blue looked right back at you.

Bucky was so incredibly proud of you and so so grateful for you to be willing to open up to him. In just one night you'd gone from barely talking to having a full on food fight. Granted it was just you and him, you still had a long way to go in regards to the rest of the team and eventually the rest of the world but right now you were doing amazingly despite everything you'd gone through. He felt so lucky to be the one that got to see the first glimpses of your incredible, blooming personality.

"We never did get any food" he whispered with a slight chuckle.

Your smile widened and you shook your head.

"How about bagels, I don't think pancakes are are an option right now" he questioned and you laughed. Bagels you did know.

"Yeah bagels sound good"

He got up, and, ever the gentleman, offered you his arm to guide you to your feet and not slip in the mess around you.

You looked around at said mess and felt a pang of guilt. "I'll clean up while you get the bagels" you bent down to start picking up eggshells. " don't be silly doll your not cleaning this up on your own.... Ya know what? it's kinda late what d'ya say we deal with this in the morning?" He said with a cheeky smirk.

"Wont they be mad?"

"Meh, they'll get over it. And if they don't I'll take full blame." He saw you about to protest, "uh uh uh no objections, I started it, plus that way most of them will be all over you with the "I'm sorry you had to deal with him" stuff so it'll just make them like you more."

You laughed but stopped to ask him, "you think they like me? I haven't been much fun"

"Of course they like you doll, they just don't know you that well yet, and they completely understand that you might not be ready to open up, they've all had their shit. I know they seem like the worlds biggest jerks but they're actually big softies, they'll get to know you and come to like you as much as I do" he sent you a big goofy grin and you couldn't help but blush at his words - again.

You still felt slightly guilty about the mess but didn't want to protest.

Bucky brought over two plain buttered bagels, you sat at the counter together to eat them.

"How d'ya like living here so far? You don't have to answer anything, I just remember finding it a bit over whelming, no ones being to much of an ass to you right? I know they're annoying but I'll l beat em up if they're pissing you off" you both chuckled at that. He joked about them but you could tell it was only that - joking. Bucky had actually come to love the team, as annoying as they can be.

"I really like it. I mean anything is an upgrade from hydra but this is definitely the best of the best. I don't know them very well yet, but im extremely grateful for the team, i cant imagine having to welcome someone in to a close family type situation but they've all been amazing. Especially you, thank you Bucky." You looked at him trying to convey your immense appreciation in your eyes. You'd started to feel your own personality coming through and it was thanks to him.

"Your extremely welcome doll, I just wanted you to know there was someone there for you. And about the team - don't worry at all, this family is ever expanding - pretty much anyone is welcome here. 'The Avengers' isn't just our job title its our family name" he chuckled. Your heart melted at that. You knew about bucky's past and you would argue that he'd suffered far worse than you, and yet here he was talking about his new found family with a bright smile on his face. It gave you so much hope and courage for how you could become, it was as if a weight had been lifted off your shoulders, discovering that you could finally have your own life, with a family and friends. It made you think about everything you had finally been rewarded rather than everything hydra had taken from you.

"Your gonna be just fine doll, promise and I'm here for you whenever you need me. Please don't take that lightly. Anytime you feel that you need me for anything you call for me ok?" Your eyes glazed over and you felt another surge of unexpected confidence. You did what only felt right in that moment and threw your arms around his neck in a warm hug. He was surprised but his arms quickly came to wrap around your waist. You sat in the tight, warm embrace for a while with a feeling you couldn't describe. For so long touch had meant pain, and the same went for Bucky, but this was nothing but warm, comforting and caring.

Eventually and slightly reluctantly you pulled away from each other. "Thank you so much Bucky, for everything" he just smiled and brought his arm up to swipe a patch of flour off your forehead, gently with his thumb. His fingers lingered on your face longer than necessary and he brought his hand down to your cheek with featherlight touches. Your cheeks heated at the intimate gesture and you made no move to pull away and ruin this moment. You leaned into his touch ever so slightly which gave bucky the sign that you were okay. He brought his other hand up to brush a piece of hair behind your ear then cupped your face in his large calloused hands. You closed your eyes at the sensation. He leaned towards you, and you did the same, following his lead. Barely two inches separated you now. "You okay with this doll?" He whispered carefully, like he was afraid this moment could blow away at any second.

"Yes Bucky" you replied with the same volume. Your eyes were still closed but you could feel his warm breath against your skin.

He finally closed the gap, brushing his lips over yours so gently they almost didn't meet, giving you the chance to pull away or change your mind. When neither of those things happened Bucky took the chance to capture your lips in his own. Sucking so gently on your upper lip and pulling the sweetest sound from your throat. Letting go and pecking your lips once more before pulling away just enough to look at you.

Your eyes were still closed and your mouth was parted in pure bliss. Bucky, still cradling your face in his palms, admired your blissed out expression with an amused smirk on his lips. When you finally opened your eyes and saw him staring back at you, your blush deepened under his gaze. Bucky placed a sweet kiss on your cheek. "Your so beautiful" he murmured against your skin. Your face turned redder still (if that was even possible) at his words and his smile widened. He would take every chance he could to make you blush like that. It was the purest most adorable sight he'd ever seen.

You stared at each other for a little while longer before your eyes were forced closed in a yawn and you leaned forward to lay on his chest. Bucky chuckled. "Lets get you to bed doll"

"I think I need to shower first" you murmured tiredly. "Yeah.." he looked at the flour and egg that was now dried up all over the both of you"you might be right" you both chuckled.

You let out another yawn a bucky looked at you with a fond smile. "C'mon doll"

You'd almost fallen asleep on hist chest at this point. "You want me to carry you sweetheart" you let out a sound that sort of resembled a laugh in your sleepy state because you thought he was joking, but quickly realised you were mistaken as he stood up, taking you with him and wrapping your legs around his waist. You didn't protest and simply relaxed against him once more, your face buried in the crook of his neck, and let him carry you to your room. His room was on the way to yours from the kitchen and by the time he'd made it there you'd fallen dead asleep in his arms. He decided there was no way you would have the energy for a shower right now so he took you into his room and gently laid you in his bed deciding to worry about the mess and his sheets in the morning. He went to his bathroom, took off his shirt that was completely destroyed with pancake batter and then grabbed a towel, running it under warm water and going back to you.

He gently wiped your face clean and managed to get some of the mess out of your hair. He stood up fully intending on just sleeping on his couch tonight he felt you grab his arm. He looked back down at you and saw that your eyes will still closed and you were definitely still half asleep.

"Don't go" you mumbled, bucky could barely make out your words in your sleepy state and he wanted to be sure before he just assumed.

"You want me to stay here doll?" He whispered in the dark.

"Humamph mmm cuddles" Bucky chuckled at the unintelligible sounds you'd tried to communicate, but he did pick up on one word.

"You want cuddles?" He chuckled.

"Mmhm" was the only response he got.

He climbed into the bed next to you and hesitantly wrapped his arm around your waist still cautious of making sure you were comfortable, but as soon as he'd stopped moving you'd turned over to bury your face in his bare chest. He looked down at your sleeping form unable to wipe the giddy smile off his face when he saw how relaxed and absolutely angelic you looked. It wasn't long before he joined you in a deep, peaceful sleep.

*****

The next morning you and Bucky woke, much like you had the previous night, cuddled together, only this time there was no awkwardness or panic, just soft smiles and a gentle kiss pressed to your forehead.

Your peaceful bubble was pretty much destroyed as the door burst open to the sight of a very pissed of Sam, other grumpy avengers appearing behind him. You froze slightly panicked at the sudden appearance of everyone but Bucky squeezed you gently in his arms effectively erasing your panic. You watched as each of the avengers, the earths 'mightiest heroes' all melted to putty at the sight at the two of you curled up.

There was a chorus off 'awwss' and cooes from the team, other than Natasha who looked at you with a smirk. "This is adorable but we know you made that mess in the kitchen and you're going to clean it up, she winked before shutting the door. You heard her shooing the others way and turned to look at Bucky with a blush covering your face and a timid smile. He just chuckled and placed a kiss to your nose.

*****

Later that day, you were in the kitchen with some of the team, bucky obviously standing by your side, and Sam was proudly displaying the picture from the night before with you two curled up on the couch. You'd blushed at the image and bucky had beamed brightly pulling you into his side and placing a kiss on your cheek. You thought back to when you had heard the 'click' of a camera. So thats what that was, you concluded, slightly amused at the teams reactions to you and Bucky. "I thought it was a great picture opportunity, pretty proud of it actually" Steve beamed, failing to mention how he had fumbled with phone and ended up dropping it in a bowl of popcorn. 'Punk' Bucky thought seemingly annoyed but with a fond smile on his face as he looked at the photo then back to you.

Yeah. You'd be just fine.

@orihimi-19 @natswife3000 (couldn’t tag? :( )

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kiribaku-queen · 3 years

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The Blood King and his Queen [1]

Pairing: Bakugou x reader

Romance, Angst, Drama

Word count: 2.4K

Summary: From being a mere servant girl to marrying the scariest prince in existence, your world changed right before your eyes. Exchanging places with the princess, you knew, wasn’t going to be easy. But could you have found love on the way? Or was it never meant to be?

A/N: Hello my loves! And welcome back to another, rather long, series! I had so many inspirations for this piece that I couldn’t wait to share with you all! Be warned, this might be a 20 part series, maybe more maybe less but we’ll see what happens! I hope you fall in love with this story as much as I do!

And shout out to this amazing artist for the art! I am literally BLOWN AWAY by this art! I can’t stop looking at it! It’s so amazingly well drawn. Just... yes, yes, yes! Please support this artist if you ever want art done! Pricey but just look at this art. So worth it! Check out the end of the chapter for the full image without text!

Also!!!! Check out my side blog if you’re curious about what fics I’m reading! You’ll find alot of j u i c y stuff and please support my friends by reading and commenting on their stories as well! Love <3

[next]

Nothing started your morning off better than the princess screaming her head off first thing in the morning. You, along with other servants, rushed to aid the princess in her time of distress. Although, it was never something to worry about with her. It was always something minor, like her hair was styled incorrectly or she didn’t like the color of clothes her servant picked out. Of course, this time, she was making a fuss that her perfume didn’t smell right.

“Your highness, I promise you, it’s the same one,” one of the servants who aided her in the morning pleaded for her life.

“No! You must have switched it out because it smells nothing like mine!” the princess screeched. The princess was so outraged that she started throwing everything and anything that was around her. Clothes, jewelry, candles, mirrors, anything she could get her hands on, she threw it. You and the other girls that just arrived could only watch in horror as her whole room becomes a mess with her belongings, some broken some completely shattered.

You wanted to say something. But you knew you couldn’t. If you stepped out of line or even talked back to any of the royals, you were surely to be punished severely later. Yet, you wanted to say something so bad. It was on the tip of your tongue. Because you knew the reason why it may smell different to the princess. To help your fellow friend in desperate need, you were going to say it. You pray to the gods that what you were about to say was right.

“Princess, if I may,” you started. The princess stopped what she was doing, midair, to give you the coldest stare you have ever received from her. You gulped. Well, too late to back out now. You bowed down your head respectfully while extending your hand to take the perfume. You don’t know why the princess decided to trust you at that moment, but she did. She nodded her head, allowing one of the servants to retrieve the bottle and place it in the palm of your hands.

“I believe it’s because your clothes already have a different perfume on it.” you explain. You pick up a different piece of clothing, one you knew was clean and free from previous scents, and spritzed the perfume onto it. “Here, does this smell like normal?” you offer the piece of clothing to the princess. For a moment, she stares at it, not believing your words. But she forcibly takes it anyway and smells it. The look of realization hit her harder than when she smashed her mirror against the floor. She spares you a second glance before handing off her perfume to someone and faces away.

“I would like to be left alone,” the princess states. After a synchronized bow from all her servants, you left the princess’s quarters and back to your own. When you were far enough, you let out a big sigh of relief. Man, that was scary. You probably shouldn’t be doing that again any time soon. Your friend hooked arms with you, the unexpected force made you loose your balance.

“Your intuition was spot on, once again,” she stated. You could only roll your eyes.

“I was just trying to help the situation,” you explained.

“Yeah, well if only the princess could use her brain once in a while, then she would have figured it out herself,” your friend puffed out her cheeks in annoyance.

“Well maybe her highness wasn’t feeling herself this morning,” you tried to defend her. But really, there was only so much you could defend her on.

“Oh, please, (y/n). You know that’s how she acts all the time. You act more like a princess than the princess herself,” your friend finally let the cat out of the bag. You quickly slapped her hand and checked your surroundings. Phew, no one of importance was in sight.

“Oh hush now. Don’t say things like that,” you scold her, giving her a stern look.

“What? You know all us girls think that. It doesn’t help that you look almost exactly like her. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought you were the princess instead.”

“Good gracious! Really? How could you say that so loud? What if someone overhears you? Then both you and me could get in trouble,” you warned. You knew your friend couldn’t care less. It was always gossip coming out of these girl’s mouths. That’s how news spreads fast around here. And you didn’t mind the gossip. Actually, you participated in the gossip too. There was a lot of downtime when you weren’t attending to the princess. So what do you do instead? Gossip. But you couldn’t have this type of gossip going around. This was dangerous.

The main girl who caused the princess to get upset, finally left the room. She was visibly traumatized by the whole event. Who wouldn’t be? Dealing with the princess is something else.

You noticed that the girl was bleeding from her finger. She must have gotten it when the princess was throwing glass around the room and it some pieces cut her.

“Come with me,” you gently grabbed her by the arm and led her to a room that was filled with different plants and bottles. The aroma immediately felt welcoming to anyone who stepped in. You went to a part of the room that you knew well and pulled out a bandage.

“This should do the trick,” you say as you finish wrapping her finger up.

“Thank you. How did you…”

“Oh, I learned a few things from the royal doctor. Sort of like an apprentice?” you explained. Being a servant isn’t the only task you knew how to do. On your spare time, you would come to the royal doctor and assist him whenever needed. In return for your volunteer, he taught you everything he knew about medicine. It was still a lot to process, but at least you knew how to do basic first aid.

“Are you even allowed to do that?” the girl asked. You thought for a minute. Was it? It wasn’t stopping you now.

“Well I guess it’s our little secret,” you put your finger to your mouth and gave a small wink.

After properly getting ready, you and the girls rushed to the princess’s side for it was your job to get her ready to be sent of and wedded. And she was not getting wedded off to just any prince. It was the rumored Blood Prince. Ah, yes. You heard much about this Blood Prince. He was the most vicious out of all the princes in the kingdom. Even more so than his eldest brothers. He was rumored to have sharp teeth and eyes that could kill with a single look. He was told to have scars marked all over his body from the battlefield. An ugly being, you imagined. Big, scary, intimidating, ruthless. God, you felt sorry for the princess for marrying such a man. You couldn’t imagine yourself marrying that type of person. Hearing stories about him made your blood run cold and chills down your spine.

You entered the princess’s room where a beautiful, white wedding dress, flowy, magnificent and perfect in all the right ways, was being fitted on the princess. You watched in awe because she looked absolutely fantastical in the dress. What a dream it would to be wear that dress only once in your life. At the same time her dress was being fitted, some servants were doing her hair and putting decorative pins and head pieces on. It was very chaotic in the room, with servants running everywhere, but it was all worth it for the princess to look this way.

You were preparing water for her hands and feet to soak while some of the girls that came with you were deciding which robe that best fits with her wardrobe.

“Your highness looks so lovely,” you commented, gently soaking her hands into warm bowls of water.

“Of course! I have to look my best for a special guest this afternoon,” the princess said in a cheery voice. You tilted your head slightly in confusion. You weren’t aware that the Blood Prince was coming to the palace. You thought the princess was being sent to him instead. You looked up and came into contact with a friend and she was speaking with her eyes.

She doesn’t know. She signaled to you. You frowned.

She doesn’t know?

She does not know.

Your mouth was left slightly ajar. The princess does not know that she is off to be engaged any moment now? This was a dilemma. She thinks a guest is coming. That’s why she’s dressed so much fancier than usual. But when she finds out that she is to be engaged, she’s going to wreck havoc in the palace. Now you really didn’t dare say anything now.

After finding out that very important piece of information, you could see that all the girls in the room knew, besides the princess. The tension in the room was growing increasingly more uncomfortable as time went on. But the princess was so air headed that she couldn’t read the room.

The princess was over the moon with happiness. And it was only because she could wear her fancy and expensive gowns that she can’t wear on the daily. She was skipping down the long corridors, humming a tune to only she knows as you and other servants follow behind her.

“Isn’t this dress beautiful? I feel like I’m in a wedding dress!” the princess exclaimed. You couldn’t help but raise a brow. Well, it’s because the princess is really in a wedding dress. But the princess did look beautiful beyond compare. She almost looked ethereal dancing in front of you like that. As the princess was dancing down the corridor, she passed by one of many large windows that gave a view of the front of the palace. A carriage was waiting to take her away to her fiancé, but she didn’t know that. Or did she?

She stopped in her tracks to take a better look at the carriage outside. A frown laid upon her lips and her eyebrows rightfully furrowed.

“Is that my carriage down there?” she questions. The ladies around you looked at each other, not knowing what to say. But even if they did know what to say, who was going to say it? One of your friends cleared their throat and bowed down to respond to the princess.

“It is, your highness,” she said.

“Whatever for?” a round of gulps could be heard from everyone there.

“For…your trip to your betrothed,” the girl’s voice shook from fear that the princess was going to blow up.

“My betrothed?” the princess repeated.

“Yes, your highness.”

“As in, to marry?”

“Yes, your highness.”

It was quiet. Nothing more came out of the princess’s mouth. And that scared all of you. This was not the normal reaction you were expecting. You expected her highness to rage, cry, scream, yell, destroy everything around her. But no. She was silent, like her tongue was ripped out of her throat.

In one quick movement, the princess turns around and dashes back to her bedroom. And who does she bring along? You! Before you could comprehend anything, the princess had taken you by the hand and now you were running down the corridor with the princess. The other ladies were running after you. When you turned back to look, you even saw a couple of guards running as well. But it was too late for them. The princess got to her room first, slammed the door closed, and barricaded the door with chairs to prevent anyone from coming inside.

“Your highness,” you call, out of breath from the sudden running. The princess didn’t answer you. She started taking off her dress, sending you into complete shock.

“Your highness! What are you doing?” you panicked. She only glared at you while not stopping what she was doing.

“Enough talking. Just take off your clothes,” she ordered you. You bit your lip. You had no idea what was going on but if she demanded it, then you had no choice but to obey. So, you stripped yourself of your filthy clothes and laid them on the floor. While you stood in front of the princess naked, she was getting the remaining of her clothes off. Then, she passed you her dress.

“Quick, put it on,” she said. You hesitated at first. You? Wear something only a princess could wear? But you couldn’t stall any longer. As quickly as you could, you put on the flowy wedding dress while the princess put on your peasant clothes. Banging was coming from the other side of the door, which only made both of you panic even more. If they came in while all this was happening, you would get into so much trouble. As soon as you both got situated in your new outfits, the princess gripped your shoulders so that you were looking her right in the eyes.

“Listen to me closely. You are going to take my place. I’ll be you and you’ll be me until you come back,” she shouted at you in a whisper.

“Your highness?” you began but she shut you up because she wasn’t finished.

“Your mission is to make this prince hate you so much that he calls off this marriage. Then you’ll return and everything will go back to normal,” she continued. It looked like she wanted to say more, but your time together was cut short. The guards had already pushed their way through the door and charging their way towards you. The princess, who was now dressed as you, quickly covered your face with the veil. The veil was thick enough that no one could see your eyes or face.

“Take the princess,” one of the guards ordered. The real princess bowed her head down, faking it until the end. The guards went straight up to you, grabbing you by both of your arms and forcibly escorted you out to the carriage.

And so there you were, on your way to some unknown kingdom, about to marry some man you didn’t even know. All because the princess ordered you to. No matter how much you hated the idea, you couldn’t even voice your opinions to her. You were in no position to do so. Before you left the palace grounds, you looked back, hoping that this was all some sort of sick joke. But the princess was looking down at you from the window, giving you a nod of trust. She trusted you. You had to fulfil her request.

This is how you found yourself in the presence of the most vicious Blood Prince, Bakugou Katsuki.

A/N: Let me know if you want to be put on a tag list! And leave your thoughts below about the first chapter! What did you think so far? How do you think the story is going to go? What did you think about the art? Speaking of art, here is the full image unedited! Are you in love with it just as much as I am?

#bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou #bakugou #bnha bakugou #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bakugou imagine #bnha imagine #bnha art #bakugou angst

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writingwithcolor · 3 years

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Hi, thank you all so much for running this blog--I was hoping I could get your feedback on a Jewish MC. The crux of my question is whether I, a gentile, would be out of line depicting her experiencing internalized discrimination from her own father (who in my first draft was Catholic, but I think that will be changing to a TBD protestant denomination).

The backstory I have for her right now is that her mother is Jewish and places great value on the history and culture of being Jewish, but is not a particularly religious person. Her daughter refers to her as having sometimes attended events at a local reform synagogue and making note of the high holidays but she is, overall, not someone with strict religious observances of any kind, and for a long time she and her husband (raised Christian but deeply agnostic) raise their daughter on the idea that it's important to understand where she and her family come from but that how she ultimately pursues faith--whatever that faith may be--is up to her. Both parents introduce her to the stories and lessons they grew up with but don't pressure her to attend religious events, etc. unless she has a personal, independent interest in doing so. For the first 16 or so years of her life this is how she's raised and her family is stable and her parents seem deeply in love. So far beta readers from households with one Jewish and one Christian parent have told me this backstory seems fine to them, though I welcome any feedback you have, too.

What I'm most concerned about, though, is when she's a teen and her parents divorce. Right now I have the reason for their divorce as being that they fell out because her dad becomes a bit of a Christian zelot and becomes less and less respectful of his wife's religion and background as he gets deeper into this mindset. The reason he becomes like that is essentially that when 9/11 happens MCs mother, who grew up with the story of how her grandparents fled from the Soviet Union because of religious discrimination under Stalin, only narrowly managing to immigrate as far as the US before the breakout of WWII, powerfully empathizes with the people suffering from the horrible rise of Islamophobia we saw in 2001-2002. Her husband, on the other hand, does what I saw a lot of people in my family and community do and becomes increasingly religiously conservative as a reaction the percieved "threat" of the Islamic world. (This is all clearly identified in the book as his being in the wrong.) One of the ways this manifests is that he starts pressuring his daughter, the MC, to attend church services with him and become Christian. His rationale is that he just wants what's best for his daughter--to be "saved."

MC's mother has no tolerance for that crap, as she shouldn't, so they fight quite a bit going forward and eventually separate. Mom gets custody of the MC.

While her father never says anything openly antisemitic--implying those ideas but never stating them explicitly--he does respond to 16 yr. old MC basically asking him if he would still love her if she pursued her mom's faith by saying some bullshit along the lines of "well honey I just love you and want the best for you," as his answer. She never says to him that she's cutting him out, but after this moment she's never close to her father again and by the time the main narrative takes place 10 years later, she hasn't spoken to him since she was 21.

This backstory helps build a foundation for a lot of themes for the MC in terms of different ways alienation manifests in her life, how she trusts, and what we can and cannot forgive our parents for, so I like it from a narrative standpoint, but I would deeply appreciate your feedback on whether writing this kind of experience for a Jewish character is inappropriate for me to be doing. And, if not, do you have any suggestions on ways to modify this backstory, or would you recommend scrapping it entirely? Thank you so much.

Interfaith family broken up when Dad becomes a jerk and a bigot

A difficult situation definitely but I don’t have a problem with the setup. If this isn’t based on your own observations, it’s probably a good idea to get a beta reader with experience around bigots of the same stripe as Dad to make sure the awful stuff Dad says uses word choices and ideas that feel authentic. If that IS your experience I am so very sorry and I hope you have other wonderful people in your life to make up for it.

--Shira This seems very well planned, and thought out. It's also very real, and will be an emotional read I'm sure. As long as your character isn't forced to give up her Jewishness because of her father, and provided that you are careful during fight scenes between the parents earlier in the work (to ensure that the mom doesn't end up seeming like the Shrill Jewish Woman stereotype), I think you are on solid ground. Good luck!

--Dierdra

Also, I just caught that you said "internalized discrimination" from her dad -- that's not what internalized discrimination means. Internalized discrimination is when someone is feeling negatively about their own group, because they've absorbed bigoted ideas from outside. Discrimination from someone who isn't yourself isn't called “internalized” even when it comes from someone as close as a parent. But that's just a little language correction.

--Shira

Oh no, this backstory is so sad! I hope your MC has a happy ending with some very mutually supportive relationships.

I agree that this shouldn't be a problem as long as you take care to avoid stereotypes on a more micro level in specific scenes. As for the overall idea, nothing jumping out at me. You've clearly put so much effort into creating a believable background for your character and its influence on her current psyche - that gives me confidence that you will write humanised characters rather than falling back on tropes!

Also, don't know if you knew this but something to note with interfaith families: if MC's mother is Jewish, she is a Jew in Jewish law. It doesn't matter what she believes or practises or how she was brought up. (I don't say this to invalidate patrilineal Jews or oppose anyone self-identifying the way they want, but just halachically. You should be aware that many more religious Jews will consider her that way.)

Good luck with your story! I would read this 😌

--Shoshi

#writingstellar #Jewish #Jewish Women #antisemitism #interfaith #interfaith relationships #family #asks

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stuckinapatriarchalbullshitland · 3 years

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enzo here- thank you so much for your kind words, they were very sweet and you are as always such a welcoming person! from having been an avid reader of your blog for a couple of years I just wanted to say good job with it and keep doing what you’re doing! I’m very passionate about these subjects as i’m sure you are because i truly believe that the more we talk about it and the more people become aware the better for the artists who are trapped in these terrible situations. I know it’s fun to theorise but really i think your blog and other CS blogs are doing something that actually has a positive impact = creating awareness. I see so many people sending asks, asking about the music industry about contracts etc and all of you are always so patient and will try your best to explain it to them. You cant find this information online easily, it’s incredibly hard to understand and that’s obviously intentional. I have learnt so much about how the music industry works through your blog and other CS blogs and i’m honestly so thankful for it as it has opened my eyes to so many things. I’ve said this before but all of this is so much bigger than just Camren, it’s about calling out the bullshit that goes on in those toxic ass industries and not feeding into it like they want us to. I know we are still a relatively small community but i can see that more and more people are becoming aware of the fakery and i truly believe that one day we can dismantle this terrible system and expose the human rights abuses that happen in it. There needs to be a movement as powerful as the #MeToo movement for the music industry and I think it starts by small communities like these. That’s what’s really important to me. I send you a hug back and i hope you stay safe too! You’re amazing!

Hello again, dear Enzo! The truth is that I am very happy to know that you enjoy reading the content of my blog. Really when I got to the fandom, I came from other TV series fandoms and fictional couples and like you, I had no idea how the industry was run or that there was everything that we had already seen. I came to the Camren fandom thinking that Camren was real in the past and then, they have proven me wrong and well, the rest is history. After that I started shipping Camren in earnest, but still for entertainment purposes and I never imagined it would become what it is because I know there are a lot of other great blogs out there out there that have been in the fandom since almost the beginning of Camren.

But it is true that thanks to the girls, we have been able to see and understand more of what is done in the shit hole that is the industry and more and more what you discover is disgusting. A shit hole that they cover with increasingly absurd dramas and that they use to have minions (like the ones that I have had to block in fact) to screw with all the shitty narratives that they want to spread, especially those that have to do with leaving an artist badly, in my case, Camila. All those clowns who believe what the bastards of the industry sell them is another way to cover the shit that they do with the artists behind the curtain and in fact, I can leave you an example Enzo.

Here my super amazing buddy @sun-to-my-luna has a Twitter thread with info about the industry that is very interesting so you can go ask about it. I'm not going to put the user here because I haven't asked if I can do it, but it's a good recommendation and by the way, it will make you hate those sons of bitches more.

I would love if we could do more for artists, especially considering that they are always the weakest link in a circle where the dinosaurs who run the entire industry are always the winners. It would be an excellent idea to be able to do something like that for them, but in the meantime I think our job is to keep learning and not be blinded by everything they want us to see.

Thank you very much for trusting me with your views and for such kind words my dear. You're amazing too ❤🤗

#anon enzo #anon #ask

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freddieofhearts · 3 years

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Bye bye, dears (for now!)

I know there have been a lot of rumours and some posts about me leaving, so here I am to set the record straight and say a quick ‘au revoir’. This post is long, and I don’t expect everyone to read the whole thing—if you just want information on how to keep in touch, or about access to my removed fics, scroll to the bottom. ⬇️

Why are you leaving?

Firstly, of course I’m not leaving Freddie. This is just an ongoing hiatus from the social side of fandom, because while I have some incredible friends here, who have done all they can to support me and have made this experience wonderful in lots of ways—it’s also true that the social space has become more and more toxic for me.

I get a wild amount of hate. Despite never having my ask box enabled on here, people create new accounts just to message me and tell me all the problems in this fandom are my fault, that I’m faking being sick, that I should kill myself, that I’m fat, etc. I also very regularly get hateful comments on AO3.

Obviously I realise that I’m not the only one who receives these cruel attacks, but it’s become increasingly hard to handle them—especially as some people (‘real’ accounts, not faceless anons) do continue to blame me for wider problems in the fandom. It makes me feel consistently sad, anxious, and paranoid, so that I can’t focus on anything Queen-related that I enjoy.

More pressingly, it’s affected my mental health, which is—imperfect at the best of times. As I’ve occasionally alluded to in older posts on this blog, I have a history of anorexia, OCD, PTSD, and some other overlapping issues. Most people who know me in the fandom are also aware that I’m ‘clinically extremely vulnerable’ to Covid-19, significantly immunocompromised, and have been isolating at home for eleven months.

The combination of all of these things + the constant toxic messages has really been triggering me, and leading to an uptick in disordered behaviours, which my body cannot sustain. Every new instance of hate from an anon—every time there’s another indication of groups in the fandom wanting to ostracise me further—my reaction is deeply self-punitive and unhealthy. Ultimately I need to be out of this environment for, at least, a protracted period. My therapist, my partner and my close friends in the fandom support this decision.

So, what went wrong?

In 2019, I expected to be an absolutely tiny blog in the Queen Tumblr landscape. The fandom was already well-established, and I have never worked to ‘build a following’ on here—I think I’ve linked my own fic a maximum of three or four times!—in fact, more or less the opposite. As I mentioned above: ya girl is nutty as a fruitcake. As a result, I often avoid extremely niche things in daily life which cause severe anxiety for me, Relevant examples here: I never look at my timeline. I never intentionally look at my follower number. Yup, it’s strange, I fully admit it, but it’s best for me to go with these things—usually. In Queen fandom, however, this avoidance both of analytic stats and of most direct engagement led to some problems... My followers grew without me realising, and way more people were reading my blog than I was aware of. I was still in a—“Wow, this fandom is very frustrating, and rife with ableism, racism, etc., so how do we fix this???”—mindset, and I wanted to share my opinions, sure! but I also thought I was sharing them with 15-20 like-minded people.

Now, intent is not impact, and I recognise that I was brusque, didn’t phrase things particularly sensitively, and absolutely did hurt some people by criticising the fandom so freely. I still regret this—and I regret just as much the fact that some assholes have used my criticising the fandom on my own blog as implicit justification for attacking authors. I have said on here many times that I don’t condone that behaviour—but I also think there’s some truth in the presumption that these anonymous malcontents felt my critiques somehow ‘permitted’ them to engage in abuse. For the first few months, though, I genuinely had no idea there was a link at all—and so I was initially slow to condemn this abusive behaviour in public, because I was taking it for granted all authors agreed it was shitty. It took someone directly telling me (shoutout to @a-froger-epic) that people had identified a connection between my posts and the anons, before everything fell into place.

I would like to offer my apologies to the fandom at large for not being more quick on the uptake about this, because I feel that had I realised sooner that these people were taking ‘inspiration’ in some way from me, it might have been easier to put a stop to it. It does seem that there is still a lot of confusion about whether I support them and which of their views I agree with. Let’s be 100% clear on this: I do not support the anonymous commenters on AO3. At times there is some, limited overlap between parts of their views and parts of mine, but even that is less than you may think—I often see anonymous comments from so-called ‘Freddie fans’ that I substantially disagree with.

Perhaps even more importantly: I do not support anyone who sends anonymous hate on Tumblr.

What’s all this about ‘overlap’ with the anons?

Let’s do a mini-summary of the myths vs. the truth. There are views I hold which are genuinely unpopular in the fandom—but which I own up to completely, and have never tried to hide in any way. I’ve never needed to use anonymous to share my opinions because I’m completely open about them! What people who don’t know me tend to have ‘heard’ about me, though, is usually a drastic distortion of my real opinions.

What people think I think:

- Freddie should never top.

- It’s okay to send anon hate if someone writes Freddie ‘wrong’.

- It’s more important to correct ‘wrong’ portrayals than to respect other writers.

- It’s inherently wrong to be more interested in band pairings than canon pairings.

- Freddie should be overtly written as a r*pe survivor/victim (and not doing this is wrong).

- Freddie should be overtly written as having an eating disorder (and not doing this is wrong).

- Kink fics are wrong.

What I actually think:

- I believe Freddie did have a strongly defined sexual identity with marked preferences, but I don’t think Jim Hutton lied when he said that Freddie topped. I believe Freddie did top, but this isn’t the time or place to get into my thoughts on why/when/how much. I do believe that my analysis of the sources relevant to this subject is as historically accurate as one can reasonably be in matters of sex (where historical accuracy will always be particularly limited and imperfect)—but I don’t think it’s morally wrong to write Freddie as topping more than he probably did.

- I don’t believe there’s only one ‘right’ version of Freddie (all others being ‘wrong’). I do believe it is possible to be more right or less right—but I’m also conscious of the fact that this scale of value is not one by which everyone measures fanfiction. As a result, then, I don’t think that any perceptions surrounding ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ justify sending anonymous, non-constructive criticism, or outright hate.

- I do believe constructive criticism is a good thing. I welcome and appreciate it myself; I have received it on my fics in Queen fandom, and it has made them better. I have been in writing workshops which included very forceful criticisms, and the value of such feedback has been intimately and immediately part of my life as a writer for years. However: in this case, I have accepted that my opinion differs from the general community preference, and so I no longer offer any constructive criticism (outside private beta-reading). I haven’t changed my view, but I’ve changed my practice to align with community norms.

- I do not think any single, individual writer has a personal responsibility to write about Freddie Mercury in any given way. That ranges from including the more distressing topics to which I’ve devoted attention (such as trauma)—to concentrating on ‘canon’ pairings like Jimercury—to, even, focusing on Freddie at all.

“Now, that doesn’t sound like you, @freddieofhearts,” you might be thinking. And I know it doesn’t; I think something I’ve done a poor job of articulating is the difference between how I view each individual fan—namely, as free to shape their creative experience at will, even in ways that I might find distressing or offensive; even in ways that you might find distressing or offensive—and the way I view the Collective. I think people have interpreted some of my critiques of ‘Queen Fandom’ as meaning something like: “You-in-particular, a specific Queen fan, are doing it wrong and should change everything about how you do it; also you don’t really care about Freddie.”

And—that’s not it. What any given fan, as an individual, does, isn’t a problem. And that can be true alongside—concurrently with—a multivalent critique of how the fandom is lacking in representation of Freddie’s life, with all that that (wonderful, deservedly celebrated, but also profoundly traumatic) life entailed. I still hold that view; I still have myriad problems with ‘the fandom’ (structurally, collectively, historically and presently—from the 1990s to the 2020s). Some of what I want to work on (away from the social life of fandom) is expressing those critiques with greater nuance, in ways that can’t be misinterpreted as shading any particular fanfiction author or subgenre of story.

In brief: I haven’t changed my mind, but I think Tumblr is an untenable environment in which to discuss the things I want to analyse, especially as there is an ever-present danger of hurting someone.

Can we keep in touch? Where is the fic?

I will drop by this account periodically to check out posts that friends have sent me, so you can always sent me a private message to ask for my contact details on the other app that I’m using now for fandom friends. Multiple Freddie conversations and projects are going on over there, off-Tumblr, with a much ‘gentler’ environment and no bad actors—I personally love it!

All my fic has been downloaded and saved. I don’t want to deal with constant harassment on AO3, but I’m happy to share a copy with anyone who missed it and wants to read/re-read something. I also saved everyone’s lovely comments and thoughtful con-crit, so none of that has been lost or erased.

Thank you to everyone who welcomed me to the fandom, made me think, taught me, shared with me, sent me into fits of the giggles, collaborated with me creatively, and otherwise made this one hell of a ride! Love you all. ❤️

#au revoir my dears #lil gay bby

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kryptsune · 4 years

Text

Happy Birthday UT... -_-;

🌼Ok I am going to say a few things that may be off putting to some people... please be aware this is my opinion and just how I feel in general. This is just something I want to get off my chest... this is a very serious topic so please read with that in mind.

I am sure some people remember the Dear UT Fandom post that I made a while back. This is an extension to that. After stepping away from the fandom I have seen more trends that have left a VERY sour taste in my mouth. This fandom used to be welcoming and passionate but lately I have seen some behaviors that I can only classify as immature, narcissistic, and entitled. Now I am not saying everyone in the fandom is like this, no, far from but as someone that has been in the UT pit for a very long time... It is disheartening to say that the more of this I see the more I begin to question if people actually UNDERSTAND what the game was trying to say to begin with. I am going to go on record here to say that I am seriously tired. On a level that I did not think was possible. I still love what I have created and I still enjoy the content that my friends put forth that will never change. At the same time with my split from the fandom I have realized that if you are not in then you are out. In other words those connections you once had seem to break down because you are no longer in the fandom 24/7? Is that... ok? Sure people have different interests but you don’t just drop people because they aren’t in the thick of it like they used to be. What... how? I don’t even understand that. In addition I have been seeing some highly toxic people spouting some shipping war garbage. Now I know what you are thinking... but Kit you have been dealing with that for years! Yes, sadly but this is where I draw the line. Look I know certain ships are not everyones cup of tea. You all know I am personally uncomfortable with Fontcest and Sanscest content. THAT IS MY OPINION. I am and will always be a RISK girl. That said... I have increasingly seen people become extraordinarily hostile when it comes to this.

I am not going to name who I saw this from because honestly I don’t want to give them the platform but... come on guys. It’s easy to filter tags. Does it always work? No.. but it’s a start. It’s what I do. You really have to check yourself when you go on your blog to call out a specific group of people calling them things like “sick fucks”. Just because you don’t like something doesn’t mean you can tear down the people that do. Their argument for this was something along the lines of... again the same beaten to death annoying excuse I get every single damn time, pedophilia. They are even claiming that those that make older adult versions are also in this category. The truth of the matter is they are spouting out mindless generalizations in favor of their own outcome... Yes, I am a Frans shipper. It makes me happy but let me tell you a little story. When I first played the game I had no shipping at all. It was a cute little game that I thought had a very profound message to tell. Then I got into the RP side of things. I have always kind of been a person that is into the dark stuff so I auditioned for Fell Frisk, hence my old username. Do you know why I started shipping Frisk with Red? Because of the interactions between my version of Frisk, which would eventually grow into Underworld Frisk, and my friends version of Red. Let’s be honest here... Red is NOT Sans. At least their version wasn’t. It was their own, an OC in a Sans the skeleton skin. That is where my love came from because I will tell you right now... the Red that existed and one I still see from time to time... I LOATHED. I hated his character so much.

My point in telling this story is that people automatically assume that I looked at the game and went HECK YEAH they should be a couple. Absolutely not. In fact it was quite the opposite. I fell in love with a characterization under that same same. So before people go pointing fingers maybe they should stop and actually think. Not everything is cut and dry. I am sorry if I am pontificating a little bit but I can’t help myself. I am sick of seeing “you need to see help” posts by people that refuse to actually take the time to get to know people.

That is one of the main problems of social media. How well do you actually know someone? The answer... you probably don’t. Ok I am going to pull back from my soap box. Look... I love this fandom it has been very good to me but I am glad that I am out of it now. I made the @fallenfellfrisk blog for you all who have supported me and enjoy that kind of content because as a creator I love interacting with people. I know people want to see more of those designs and I eventually will deliver them but for now... I hope you enjoy and support this massive Hell Lore world build I have been working on. It’s going to be crazy and it’s honestly a lot of fun to play in. So to end this very long “vent” enjoy what you enjoy and don’t be a jerk about it. Don’t put others down and accuse them of things that are not even remotely true. Instead of being so one way or the other people need to really think about a few things. We are all human beings. We are all individuals. Not everyone is going to agree with what you have to say. THAT IS OK. There are ways to shield yourself from the content you do not like. Do not attack your followers. Do not call them names. Do not treat people like garbage or spread rumors about them effectively separating them from the ones they care about.

Try to remember that your actions have consequences and that your behaviors even more so. Be the best person you can be and remember the humanity of others. Be a positive influence in life and not a toxic egotistical and narcissistic asshole demanding something of someone else. Be... well... kind.

Today is the day... Happy birthday... Undertale.

#kit talks #vent #undertale #thoughts

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falloutboywife · 3 years

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i want to start this off by saying i am infintitely grateful for all the support i've gotten while i was away, and i cannot express enough how much it means to me to know i have so much support during such a frustrating part of my life, even if i'm only showing you guys one part of it. i cannot tell you enough how thankful i am, and i'm going to respond to as many messages as i can tomorrow because this has taken a lot of time and energy for me to write and piece together emotionally

i definitely think the other week when i made that lengthy post about my identity and my place in online spaces may have been a bit of an overreaction, however while i've had some time to think about it on my own i think that just avoiding tumblr outright is causing me to become pretty insular in how i'm perceiving the entire situation, which isn't made any easier for me considering when i ask my friends who've been seeing it unfold what their opinions on it are, their responses have been pretty mixed.

as a whole, i think that being in online fandoms, as an outspoken artist (outspoken in this sense meaning redacted and fat kid fuckery, both shameful and heretical topics few dare to mention), tends to inflate my ego in a way i don't really find desirable. meaning people who are super kind and friendly towards me and who give me a lot of positive attention, while reassuring and definitely welcomed, tends to lean into people admiring me for reasons i don't really understand, and this can also end up trapping me into a certain role to fulfill in a community because of the kind of attention i tend to reward and validate, i.e. fat kid fuckery in my dms, which leads to the expectation of me being this sort of bastion of hornyposting where all evil (affectionate) thoughts are encouraged and endorsed.

on the other end of the spectrum, and if you know what i'm talking about then you know, i tend to attract a lot of negativity from people i've never interacted with or had any intention of interacting with, and this has been an issue for me pretty much the entire time i've used social media (me adding hornyposting as a facet to my personality is really recent, like i only started doing this late 2017 and i'm really tired of it by now but. again. it's what people expect of me, more on that later), and i'm not entirely sure how to make it stop. granted, when i was a lot younger, i was genuinely an asshole, but i want to stress a very important thing i think very few of my followers on here are aware of

i'm 28 and only just now aware of the fact that i'm autistic, and i was misdiagnosed with bipolar when i was 13 and because none of the treatment or therapy worked, i always thought there was something really wrong with me, so i couldn't actually learn how to cope with a lot of my problems in a productive way until recently. so yeah, i was a jackass when i was younger, and i can be a jackass in private sometimes when i'm under a lot of stress, but having this realization about myself is really helping me a lot on its own

and being autistic, people can think i'm annoying or obnoxious or irritating and that, juxtaposed with content or opinions they might personally disagree with, can make people very angry just inherently. i've spoken with my friends about how i can't seem to shake off any drama that i really, really have nothing to do with or any interest in, and the only ones who could really relate were other autistic people. my own friend actually told me that she thinks this is something i'm just going to have to struggle with my entire life, because even if it's not being horny or advocating for sexual positivty, i'm ALWAYS doing something that will piss someone off

(quick disclaimer: i know some of you are probably going to try to engage in bad faith arguments with me saying that i'm calling all my haters ableist, and if anyone tries to insinuate that this is the conclusion i'm coming to, i'm not only ignoring your ask but blocking you as well. i'm also not answering any asks trying to insinuate that i "need help" simply because of the type of fiction i enjoy, when the issue was HOW i was engaging with it, which i think i have made exceedingly clear.)

i think it's funny that me clearly being into waycest and clearly being into babystump is lost on people to the point where they feel they need to make callout posts "warning" people about the fact that i'm...openly and unabashedly interested in this shit, but the very second i say "actually i'm asexual but i'm glad you guys are so sexually open about yourselves and your interests" i lost more followers than any active campaign trying to cancel me, which is exactly what i fucking mean when i say this is what people expect of me

so i can't really make anyone happy in the current environment i've curated for myself because it is expected of me to maintain this personality and continue engaging in this nature of content regardless of my own personal feelings on the matter, because if i want to break free from it then i risk pissing people off. i also can't just act how i want or make the kind of jokes that i want or enjoy the kind of things i want anyway because simply by having a mental disability that effects how i engage with people socially, i am risking ostracizing myself by pissing the wrong people off and ultimately making things a lot worse than they otherwise would be

however. However. even if this is exactly how i feel, this isn't entirely a situation that is exclusive to this current blog, and when i said in the beginning i was taking this too seriously, i still mean that, and i think that my own personal problems with being in online fandoms stem from external factors that have nothing to do with this website. i'm almost 30 and a lot of my life this past decade has been very stagnant due to severe depression, with no real progress towards furthering my life in any meaningful way, and i think that what i was really frustrated with when i made that post was this very factor. in conjunction with this, i use online spaces a way to try to find an open and accepting community of people i can befriend and be myself in, because my undiagnosed autism has historically made it difficult for me to really socialize with people in a productive way that didn't make me feel like an outcast. i think a combination of the fact that online spaces are becoming increasingly more difficult for me to adapt to, as well as incresingly unfulfilling, adding to the lack of fulfillment in the rest of my life, was the subconscious realization i came to when i decided to make that post and take a break from tumblr for a bit. i'm frustrated that i have no fulfillment in my life, and i can no longer find it in online spaces that i used to enjoy and find so much meaning in

this being said, i'm actually doing shit with my life at long last. i'm enrolled in classes for an english degree, and i'm going to subsequently get an associates in creative writing that i'll be able to complete in a single semester after the fact, leaving me with two whole degrees under my belt that i can use in developing my future in the literary world. i'm taking my art more seriously as well, although i only post my bandom and lotr drawings on here, and i'm thinking of making an instagram account to start posting my art on there as well, as a sort of portfolio. i'm sick of this ongoing feeling of there being no meaning in my life, and i'm sick of feeling like i'm just wasting away and putting my mind to no use, and the immense joy i got just from seeing my class schedule for the fall semester made me realize that i am an intellectual, i'm an academic, and i'm in love with media and literary studies and this is what i find meaning in. this shit makes me so fucking happy and when i finished the picture of dorian gray the other day i IMMEDIATELY went on a tirade about its themes and symbolism just to myself and that, alone, was so fucking rewarding. i've been watching movies with my friend sweaterangst and just describing the themes of the horror used in the fucking texas chainsaw massacre movies made me feel so fulfilled even if he might have barely been listening LMAO i find meaning in seeking out complex and thought-provoking pieces of work and i

absolutely

am not getting that being on tumblr and talking about how i'm gonna let the fat kid deepfry me at the state fair (affectionate) (delusional) (severe)

with that being said, yes, i'm still asexual and i don't get fulfillment from purely sexual discussion, but i think i'm still gonna be answering asks about the sexy stuff so long as i find it engaging to a degree. i'm gonna start trying to use the guys you say as creative writing exercises because in the beginning that's what the fucking smut started as LMAO but i lost the plot a while ago and just let myself stagnate, like i said. i'm still gonna blog about bandom stuff but now that i have no reason to treat social media like it's all i have, and now that i'm breaking out of my depressed state in more meaningful ways, i think i'm gonna start blogging about a lot more things too and try to start having fun on this site again.

five nights at fat kid's is back, baby

#long post /

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innocentbi-stander · 4 years

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just stumbled across your blog in my conquest to consume all feral and bamf Jaskier content within 24 hours, and i read your headcanons for necromancer Jaskier and was wondering if you had anymore, or if you had a small ficlet involving some sort of necromancer Jaskier?? (i also saw your demigod Jaskier, where he was a son of Hades, and LOVED IT) if you don't, or aren't into that trope, that's okay. i absolutely love what you've already written. god-tier writing, truly

Hi there! I’m so glad you’ve enjoyed my writing! I do have a small little ficlet that I wrote that I posted on ao3 featuring necromancer Jaskier, I’ll link it below! However I’m also never above writing more necromancer Jaskier content, so here you are:

Fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25272997

______________

Sometimes Jaskier cursed the day Death had made a pact with his unborn soul, tying him to the immortal life of a necromancer and all of the bizarre powers that came with it.

Today was not one of those days.

Because when you’ve been locked in a cage in the depths of some decrepit castle after being ambushed on the road with your witcher boyfriend and badass witch friend, those powers really come in handy.

The bard pulled himself up into a sitting position on the cold stone floor, taking a look at his surroundings.

He was clearly in the dungeon of a long forgotten keep, by the look of the worn stone walls and rusted bars. The room was dark, and shadows flickered in the light of the few torches along the wall.

Jaskier cursed to himself as he felt the ache of his head, where he had been knocked unconscious during the attack.

The attack. The attack on the path that he had most certainly not been alone for.

A look around the cells confirmed the location of Geralt and Yennefer, each located in their own cells across the room. Clearly their attackers had deemed them the more worthy threat, as Geralt was weighed down in chains and Yennefer sported her own pair of silver cuffs decorated in runes. Magic suppressants.

Jaskier scoffed. They hadn’t even bothered to use rope to bind his arms, too confident that the supposedly human bard would be little more than a nuisance. It was their mistake.

The pounding of his head moved into the background of his thoughts, and Jaskier became increasingly aware of a pain in his stomach. His fingers that caressed the area came away covered in blood. Shit.

Flashes of memory reminded him of the man who had run him through with his sword when one hit to the skull hadn’t stopped him from fighting back. On any other human this wound would have been fatal. For Jaskier, it meant a bothersome hole through his torso for a few days, and a very fussy witcher poking at his bandages and offering bowl and bowl of soup.

Yay necromancy powers.

The bard lazily scanned the inside of his cell, looking for anything that might aid them in their mistake. Not that he necessarily needed any assistance, but Jaskier wasn’t fond of revealing the true depths of his powers to anyone, much less some low budget crew of hired bandits. He preferred to keep his abilities known to the few, better to be underestimated than overtaken.

He spared a glance over to the corner where Geralt and Yennefer lay. Jaskier sighed, a long and bothersome sound. For such a great witcher and even mightier witch couldn’t they wake up a little bit faster? He’d prefer being able to break them out when they could walk on their own, Jaskier didn’t think he could haul either of them back to their campsite.

As if on cue a small moan sounded from the other side of the dungeon.

Jaskier glanced up to meet violet eyes blinking at him.

“Ah, Yennefer, welcome to the land of the living! Or should I say ‘land of the living, also occupied by me’?”

“Jaskier?” Yennefer’s brow furrowed, “What happened?”

“It appears as if we were attacked by bandits on the way back to the campsite, and not even clever ones at that. Hired men. Probably from that lordling Geralt and I pissed off a contract back. He seemed like the type for stupid baseless vengence.” Yennefer sat up, pulling herself to her feet to pace her cell. She jangled the cuffs on her wrists.

“Magic resistant cuffs. They must have been fairly well informed.” Jaskier laughed.

“Not well informed enough it seems. They haven’t bound me at all.” He flashed his unbound arms at her along with a smirk. A stupid mistake really, he had forgotten the blood that streaked his hands and forearms from his middle. Maybe Yen wouldn’t see.

Yennefer, clever witch that she is, noticed immediately. She crossed to the front of her cell, narrowing her eyes at him through the darkness.

“Jaskier, are you hurt?”

“......no.”

The look on Yennefer’s face had killed better men than he.

“We’ve talked about not covering up injuries to look braver. That includes you too.” Jaskier had a will as strong as a limp noodle when it came to his witcher and his witcher. So he fessed up immediately.

“One of the men may have poked me a little with his sword when they nabbed us on the road.”

“Jaskier”

“Fine, he ran me through like he was intending to make the most musically inclined shish kebob known to mankind. Happy?”

“Ecstatic. Are you still bleeding?”

Jaskier sucked in a breath as he peeled up his blood-soaked shirt. Even though he wasn’t technically dying, that didn’t mean it didn’t still hurt like a bitch. He winced at the blood running down his stomach in little rivulets.

“Yeah, it’s still bleeding a little.” Yennefer cursed.

“Fuck. We need to get out of here as soon as possible or you’re going to have to end up taking one of my blood replenishing potions again.”

Jaskier resolved to leave immediately. Those potions were fucking disgusting. Luckily, Geralt seemed to sense the urgency and chose that moment to reawaken.

“The fuck?” Geralt threw himself to his feet at the ready as quick as one wrapped in chains possibly could. Yennefer clapped her hands together, drawing his attention to her.

“Fantastic Geralt, you’re finally up. It appears we’ve been kidnapped, you’re covered in chains, I’ve got magic suppressing cuffs, and Jaskier’s been run through with another man’s steel.”

Nothing got Geralt furious quicker than hearing of harm done to his bard.

“Jaskier?” The witcher pressed himself against the bars of his cell, eyes searching to meet Jaskier’s own. He raised his arm in an awkward wave, trying not to flinch at the steadily increasing pain.

“Hello Geralt. Lovely day to get stabbed, isn’t it?” Geralt wasn’t amused.

“Are you okay?’

“I’ll be better as soon as we get the fuck out of this awful, disgusting dungeon. I feel like I’m going to catch a disease just from brushing up the wall in here. Now how about I get us the hell out of here?”

The look on Geralt and Yennefer’s faces was one of intense worry as they watched Jaskier heave himself to his feet, almost gagging at the pain that flared throughout his stomach. Geralt barely stopped himself from reaching out to assist him, realizing that he’d never be able to help through the iron bars between them.

“You don’t have to Jaskier. You’re hurt, you need the energy to heal, not drain it summoning the undead. We can find another way.” Jaskier laughed.

“Another way? You’re covered in chains and Yen’s locked off from her magic. I can get us out of here, and then take a nice long nap.”

He met Geralt and Yennefer’s eyes, waiting for each of them to nod their assent before his next actions.

The bard held out a hand in front of him, closing his eyes and letting his subconscious drag down into the earth below. He could feel his power begin to condense in his fingertips, creating a soft blue glow. His power sent a call out to the underworld, and a smile crossed his face when he felt something answer.

Jaskier opened his eyes to see a skeleton pulling itself from the earth in front of his cell. As soon as it stood in front of him, it swept into a low bow and hissed words in a language foreign to all living beings except those with a connection to Death.

Masterrrrrrrrr……..

Jaskier grinned.

“Hello there! As you can see, we’re in a little bit of a predicament, if you wouldn’t mind it would be great if you could release us?”

The skeleton spared no second thought before enacting Jaskier’s wishes, ripping open the bars of his cell like they were made of paper, and proceeding to do the same for Yen and Geralt and their bonds.

Just as the skeleton was finishing up with Geralt’s chains, a troop of bandits swarmed into the dungeon, a man dressed in red at the head.

He was no doubt the leader of the crew, and was understandably shocked to see all of his prisoners standing free.

“I hate to interrupt the part of this whole ordeal where you’ve undoubtedly come down here to tell us all about your evil plan of capturing us, who hired you, and what’s going to become of us, but I’m afraid we simply must go. Places to be, and all that. Luckily you won’t have to go explaining to the lordling who hired you why we’ve gone missing, because you’ll be a little preoccupied dealing with some of my dear friends!” Jaskier performed a lazy wave of his hand, his fingertips resuming the familiar glowing blue hue. The bandit seemed to be having trouble processing what exactly was going on.

“What-how,” he sputtered, but was interrupted by the screams of his men in the halls behind him. The clickity clack of bone on the stone floors brought a smile to Jaskier’s face, and the tears of flesh and ligaments being torn away filled the dungeon. The men spun around, attention taken by the new imminent threat, swords raising in shaking hands. Too easy.

Jaskier felt a hand tug on his shoulder, and was pulled through a door into a forgotten corridor after Yen and Geralt. They traipsed down hallway after hallway, collecting Jaskier’s lute and Geralt’s confiscated swords.

After a few minutes Jaskier’s steps became less steady, and his knees began to feel more like jelly. The third time the bard had to grab the wall for support Geralt lifted him into his arms seamlessly, making sure he was comfortable before ambling on.

It wasn’t long until they reached sunlight, but by then the world had already begun to go hazy for Jaskier. He had used up too much of his energy summoning the undead and he had lost too much blood.

Jaskier allowed the gentle rocking of Geralt’s pace to lull him to sleep, his eyelids drifting shut against the midday sun. He knew that when he woke he would be safe and the campsite, protected in his lover’s arms and soon to be met with his overbearing fussing. There would be a warm bowl of stew, a roaring fire, and plenty of blankets. There would be laughter as Yennefer told the tale of the most recent fool who had dared to cross her, and Geralt would bury his face in Jaskier’s hair to disguise his amused smile. It would be home.

Jaskier closed his eyes, and allowed himself to dream.

___________

Hope you enjoyed! Feel free to send more prompts!

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mdelpin · 5 years

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If Only For Tonight

Jerik Week 2019 Prompt: Pinned to the Past AO3 | FF.Net For @oceanwaves-blog and @watcher-ofthe-sky I hope you like it!

Summary: Erik has made his peace with himself, but he is becoming increasingly concerned at Jellal's inability to do the same. He tries to talk some sense into him.

Erik was used to noise. It was always working its way into his head like a friend that has worn out his welcome, but no amount of urging could get to leave. Not that he really knew what it meant to have friends. Even the other members of Oracion Seis were only people he had grown up with and therefore only tolerated because they shared a purpose.

The majority of people went through life wearing a mask, one they hid behind, secure in the knowledge most people couldn’t see through it. But Erik wasn’t most people. Ever since the dragon lacrima had been implanted inside him, he’d gained the ability or rather the curse to hear people’s thoughts. That was a heavy burden for anyone to bear, but especially more so for someone who was never really been taught how to control it.

To hear so many thoughts all at once was overwhelming, so the best strategy he had devised was to focus on one voice, it didn’t matter whose. It helped with the noise, but not with his attitude. Most people were inherently ugly on the inside, their thoughts a testament to all their insecurities and Erik assimilated all of it. Sometimes he wondered if the poison his body created was a side effect of all the sins and negativity he absorbed regularly. His own thoughts, when he could manage to hear them were but a whisper in comparison.

So as much as he could, Erik kept himself isolated. The time he’d spent in prison had been blissfully quiet. For the first time in a long while he’d been able to hear his thoughts loud and clear.

Trapped within the confines of his magic sealing cell, Erik had finally been able to experience freedom. He’d used his incarceration to think about who he’d been before he’d been corrupted by Jellal and the Tower of Heaven.

Even as he grieved for the child he’d never been allowed to be, Erik knew the path he had chosen had been incorrect. And he wanted to do better for the man he was, wanted to be able to hold his head up high. He decided then he needed to make up for his sins.

When Erik had reunited with his guildmates, they had all grudgingly agreed to follow Jellal in his quest to find Zeref. For a long time, Erik had hated Jellal, had blamed him for every bad thing that had ever happened to him, but he slowly found that changing. He had grown to accept his own mistakes and embrace the fact that Jellal perhaps was not what they had all assumed. Not because of anything Jellal ever said, at least not out loud, but because of the thoughts that only Erik could hear.

Each thought was a silent confession that Jellal couldn’t help but know Erik could hear. Slowly, he found himself becoming interested in the man.

Jellal wore a mask just like everyone else, but he was a conundrum. He purposefully acted the part of the villain so that the people he felt he’d wronged could get their closure. Then he interiorized every hateful world they hurled at him.

In his most private thoughts, Jellal held a self-hatred so deep it sometimes worried Erik. And now that they were part of the same guild, Erik found himself focusing on Jella’s thoughts more and more, already tired of the thoughts of Sorano and the others.

His attention did not go unnoticed, he’d already heard Jellal wondering about it, but Erik didn’t worry too much. He’d been startled a few times to hear Jellal’s voice in his head, his way of warning Erik he knew what the dragon slayer was up to. Rather than getting embarrassed, Erik would only smile and wave at the intrusion.

With time he noticed with growing confusion that some of the thoughts that Jellal had once linked to Erza had started to shift towards him and this bewildered Erik considerably. Was it some sort of tactic by Jellal to ensure Erik got out of his head, or was it something else?

Erik didn’t understand why he cared so much about this man. Maybe it was because like him Jellal was a better man than people gave him credit for. Or perhaps it was because he understood how it felt to be manipulated by others.

Any way you looked at it, Jellal had been as much of a victim as any of them. He had been brainwashed to be evil, but with the help of Erza and her new friends, he had managed to rise above it. Jellal’s problem lay in that he didn’t believe he deserved forgiveness. Not from Erza or anyone else involved in the Tower of Heaven, and while there was a time when Erik would have agreed with him, that time was long past.

With the creation of Crime Sorciere, Jellal had given them all a tool to move forward. To put the sins they had committed behind them and replace them with acts they could be proud of, and that is precisely what they were doing. Erik just wished that Jellal would allow himself the same mercy.

For the first time since he had acquired his magic, Erik felt the desire to act on the information he couldn’t help but hear. To take whatever feelings had created this attachment he couldn’t seem to escape and try to make Jellal see what they all saw.

He asked Macbeth to let him take over his lookout duty, knowing that Jellal often had trouble sleeping and would sometimes engage Macbeth in conversation. Macbeth had merely raised an eyebrow before shrugging in apathy and heading to his tent to join the other guild members in sleep.

Erik sat down by the fire, holding his hands out and enjoying the warmth. With everyone asleep, the night was unexpectedly quiet, and he extended his senses out through the woods where they were camping, trying to pick up any human smells or stray thoughts that would alert him to someone being nearby.

Once he was satisfied they were alone, Erik settled down to wait. It was at times like this that he missed the quiet companionship of Cubelios, and he spared a thought to the woman his snake had become. Or had she always been a woman caught in an enchantment? He’d never quite understood what had happened.

O-o

Jellal stared at the stars through the fabric of his tent, but just like every other night, they failed to offer him any comfort. Tired of laying down he decided to go keep Macbeth some company, maybe bum a cigarette. If nothing else the crackling of the fire always calmed him down. He had a feeling Natsu would understand what he meant.

Once out of the cramped space, he stretched his limbs and began walking towards Macbeth, stopping in midstep as he recognized Erik sitting where Macbeth would usually be lounging lazily.

Shit!

It sounded loud in his own head, so he wasn’t surprised to see Erik startle and search him out. Jellal tried to shield his thoughts as much as he could, although he was well aware that it was pointless.

It was so frustrating that he was incapable of hiding his thoughts around the man, giving Erik an unobstructed view of who Jellal was. Something he tried to avoid at all costs.

More vexing to him was the fact that even armed with this knowledge, Erik acted no differently towards him. Just what did that mean? Not knowing made him feel very awkward and uncomfortable around the dragon slayer.

Erik chuckled at him, acting amused by his discomfort and as he patted the ground next to him in an inviting gesture, he commented, “Beautiful night, don’t you think?”

Is he coming on to me?

Jellal regarded him warily, once again cursing himself for not being able to restrain his thoughts, especially when he could see the mirth in Erik’s eyes.

“Would you like me to?” Erik replied as if Jellal had spoken out loud, not bothering to contain his smirk.

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you it’s rude to go where you’re not invited?” Jellal snapped, but he resigned himself to the conversation and sat down, keeping his eyes trained on the dancing flames of their campfire.

“No one ever taught me shit. We were slaves, remember?” Erik fumbled in his coat for a cigarette.

“It’s still rude,” Jellal grumbled, and then in a quieter voice he found the courage to finally say what had been bothering him since Erik had joined Crime Sorciere, “I don’t like having someone in my head.”

“Shit, I’m sorry. I forgot,” Erik paled and quickly apologized, making Jellal think he’d understood his implication, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I tried,” Jellal declared honestly, thinking of the times he’d reached out to Erik with his telepathy only to have the dragon slayer not take him seriously.

“Oh.”

“I’m curious though, what is it you’re expecting to find?” Jellal pointed at Erik’s cigarette, which he had yet to light, and Erik grabbed another one from his pack and handed it over. Jellal called on his fire magic, invoking a small flame on his index finger which he used to light his cigarette, he waited for Erik to do the same before dispelling it.

“I don’t know,” Erik shrugged, “You’re different from everyone else, and that is both refreshing and worrisome.”

Jellal didn’t quite know how to interpret Erik’s words.

“Ever since I’ve had this magic, my mind, it was always too loud. And it wasn’t even my words, you know? It was everyone else’s. Most of the time, I couldn’t even hear myself think.” Erik took a drag from his cigarette, “It was maddening. It was only when I began to learn to focus on one voice and block out the rest that it got a bit better.”

Jellal nodded in acceptance of his explanation, “That still doesn’t explain why me?”

Erik thought about it briefly, “I’ve known most of these other guys for years, but you, you are fascinating. The way you think is so twisted, I just got caught up in it.”

“Twisted?” Jellal stiffened at the word, but on further analysis decided he liked it. Yes, he was twisted and wicked. Unworthy. It sounded right. He began to listen eagerly, waiting for Erik to validate his feelings. He was a tad surprised to not have Erik retort, and he wondered if he had actually heeded his request to stay out of his mind. He hoped so.

“Surely you must realize that?” Erik studied Jellal as he rambled on in disbelief, “You constantly blame yourself for things that are outside of your control. And even though you’ve dedicated yourself to making amends for your actions, you refuse to accept that you deserve to ever be forgiven.”

“All of us here,” Erik pointed to their small camp, “we all forgave you long ago. We aren’t innocent either, but if you don’t allow for the possibility that we can become worthy of forgiveness, of love, of life through our actions, then what’s the fucking point? Frankly, I worry about you.”

Jellal stared at Erik in surprise, that was probably the most words he’d heard come out of the dragon slayer since they’d met. Erik must have realized this too because he was suddenly hiding behind the smoke that curled from his cigarette.

Erik was worried about him? Why? And how on Earthland had he forgiven him? Jellal had enslaved Erik as a child, had handed him over to Brain without a second thought. Hell, every single bad thing that had ever happened to Erik could probably be attributed back to him somehow. Did he not see that? He felt unsettled, as the guilt that he felt almost all the time weighed him down, making him feel like he was trying to tread on shaky ground.

He took a drag from his cigarette, and he was dismayed to see his hand trembling, “I don’t deserve forgiveness,” Jellal snapped at Erik before whispering, “ People died, friends died. They didn’t get a happy ever after, why should I?”

Erik thwacked him upside the head ignoring his glare, “Stop that! How many lives have you saved since?”

Jellal couldn’t answer that because the truth was it didn’t matter how many lives he’d saved or how many more he would save before he died. It would never be enough to make up for his sins.

He could feel Erik studying him, and he resigned himself to another lecture, one that thankfully never came. Instead, he felt a warm hand cover his and squeeze it tightly before letting go.

Jellal turned his head and saw Erik staring into the fire before turning to look at him, his features hardened into a determined expression, “I’ve done many things I’m not proud of, and I will continue to try to make up for them. This guild you created, it’s allowed me to do that, to have a second chance, and I will see you get yours.”

Jellal sighed, wishing people would just leave him alone for once, but he couldn’t help but let Erik’s words affect him, and this time it was him that reached for the other’s hand.

It was tentative, the way their fingers brushed against each other. New and confusing in ways he wasn’t sure about, and he found himself weakening as they sat in companionable silence with the crackling of the fire and the sounds of nature all around them. Maybe even if it was only for tonight, he could pretend he was worthy of this forgiveness.

#fairy tail #jerikweek2019 #jerik #ftlgbtales #fanfiction #ftfanfics #jellal fernandes #erik/cobra

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aimeesuzara · 6 years

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How We Learn to Hate Our Skin or, a Late Blossom into Self-Love, When Growing up Brown in a World that Makes You Want to Be White (For A History of My Body Blog Series)

In the summer of 2016, I arrived in Santiago de Cuba with a dance group, and the first thing we attended was a performance by Danza Del Caribe. There, in a dark theater, with very few people in attendance, emerged the lithe, dynamic dancers -- the music, driving and sensual, the bodies, athletic and slim —the dance, modern, though there was something distinct about the movement that was very Cuban, its expression, the undulations of their torsos and hips. Soon, there was another dance featuring traditional drummers and singers and all in costumes, reenacting a fiesta in the streets, and now, I could see the Afro-Cuban roots, the movement beneath the movement. The music and the dance immediately seized us, a welcome that was neither superficial nor subtle. Outside in the night, we piled into cars where Jacob Forever's song "Hasta Que Se Seque el Malecon" blared, and I realized I was listening to this song for the first time in Cuba. I realized: I am IN Cuba! That I had taken Cuban dance, from folkloric to Cuban salsa, and had become nearly addicted to dancing casino to Salsa-Timba, needing to dance at least once, if not three times, a week, faithfully attending class at my gym taught by one of the leaders of this very trip -- had always seemed strange if I were never to come here. Of course, it was a privilege to travel, a privilege that is very “American.”

As a person whose culture has not quite suffered the amount of co-opting that other cultures have (what comes to mind is yoga-fied Indian, anime-ed Japanese, kitschy or cutesy Chinese, boy-band Korean, luau'd Hawaii, cigar-and-salsa Cuba – to name just a few)-- I always wonder, "when and if this happens to us, how will I feel?" for example, how would I feel if I went to a Filipino tribal dance class from, say, Mindanao, and all of the attendees were white? Sure, they could learn the language and the gestures, but could this be right? And what if the consumers of such traditions had never been interested in my country nor never attempted to know and understand and have true relationship with not only the symbols of, but the actual inhabitants or descendants of my islands? I always imagined entering a class like that and basically losing my mind, giving everyone a piece of my mind. And yet I, too, have done my fair share of being fascinated by and borrowing and romanticizing cultures other than my own -- I am guilty of it, certainly -- I do not deny that living in India in college, studying Buddhism and Hinduism and an extended stay of 9 months, then returning here to attending yoga classes where few if any people were actually Indian -- that I was participating in the consumption of culture. I also do not claim that my fascination with Cuban culture, spirituality, history, are entirely devoid of romanticism, idealizing. And yet, there is something here to consider. I do not consider myself a part of the (at least racial) dominant class. That I have grown up with economic comfort, an excellent education, and two parents who lived together and were committed, raising me with everything I needed -- that I grew up with at least some semblance of identity connected to a homeland -- I do not deny the privileges I have inherited.

But as I've gotten older, I realize that my suspicion that we were always second-class citizens in many peoples' eyes, in the system's eyes; that we are dispensable, as labor, as intelligence, as optional colors to throw into a melting pot that somehow was and should be neutral, in other words, white; that I have never nor ever will experience whatever it is to feel I was neutral or normal or the regular, that things were made and meant for me; though I strove for, and lived at times under the illusion that I could be, a part of it. As a child, I wanted my mom to have m & m's and pizza and popcorn around like the other kids; not soy sauce, fish sauce, hot peppers and rice. I wanted us to sit down to an “American” Thanksgiving Dinner, since that's what everyone else did. This became instated, at my insistence at the age of eight or nine: we had turkey, canned cranberry sauce, powdered whipped potatoes. I was content to be like the other kids, not realizing that what was being replaced was whatever Filipino we had left. For a mother who was not that into cooking, those small symbols were what we couuld and should hold onto. My Dad's Adobo; my mom's pancit; the ginataan that I half-loved and half-was disgusted by; the odd sweets and bottles and jars filled with sugary beans and coconut jelly for making Halo-Halo. Instead, I opted for the can-shaped gelatinous cranberry sauce, not knowing how easy it was to make fresh sauce from scratch; the microwaved dinners like Hungry Man's potatoes and gravy and meatloaf, also not realizing that these were the easiest foods to make from scratch; popcorn and eggs, likewise, easy to to make and inferior when made in our enormous microwave oven. I fought hard to lose our culture in order to be part of the crowd, only realizing later that I would never the part of the crowd. I would always be different, exotic, cute. I would always stand out, could not really hide behind my hair like I thought I could; wearing black as a teen probably made me stand out more; I could never be "goth" -- my melanin prevented this.

The illusion of belonging to a dominant class was broken at moments of my parents being talked down to; or my mom being called "cute" --my lunchbox food called weird, and people fascinated by my hair and eyes. At a point in fifth grade the adoration turned to a silent segregation, and I distinctly remember sitting, as though on a faraway island, looking at my increasingly distant best friend, freckles and blue eyes, and her other newer best friends, blond and red-haired, all pale like Strawberry Shortcake and Barbie and Madonna; all perfect American little girls, as they became a click and left me with Jasmine and Keisha, whom I liked and got along with but also resented because they reminded me of my darkness; somehow being with the two black girls made me feel that all together we were just this big blotch of ink; a shadow on the playground; invisible and disappearing while the rest of the world marched on. A child of ten does not invent such a feeling, and especially not in a small town like Pasco, given that race or racism was never directly talked about by my parents nor in school, that my friends were all oblivious to the subtle ways in which racism was being perpetuated and carried on by their parents. I remember Luis and Juan and some sense about them being just weird or less-than; I remember Pedro who broke his arm doing antics on the slide; they were Mexican and were seen as the comic relief; they were the jokesters, the pranksters, and so they were loved. But in a sort of adorable, little-brother way, not to be taken seriously, and certainly not to be the object of a crush. There was my Indonesian friend, also adorable and smart but never to be the object of a crush; crushes would be reserved for the classically white-cute Jeff or John. (*all names have been changed)

I probably had picked up on or heard snippets of my fathers' frustration, when he was deflated or downright angry about the dynamics at the hospital. It seemed that the Filipinos were helping the Filipinos but not enough (and what was it they need to help each other for, I wondered?) and the Indian doctors had to leave; and the white doctors all supported one other were not supporting him. We left the Tri-cities nearly losing everything, in debt and abandoning the beautiful house on the hill; I disappeared for years from the scene and moved like a nomad across the country five times before I was a sophomore in high school.

But that is another story. Let's begin with the body here and see where it all changed.

In Houston, Texas, I learned, as abruptly as you could at the age of 11 in sixth grade, that yes, we were second class citizens, people who should go back "home" (and what home was that?) and who smelled (this being the Indian slur applied generically). Or it was "ching chong" which really got me because immediately the sound summoned the most slanty-eyed cartoon I could imagine, someone who couldn't even see through the slits of their eyes; and I was proud to have large, almond eyes, eyes my father and others said were due to my Spanish ancestry. Deer eyes, round eyes, eyes that were expressive. And I loved to sing, and talk and dance, so how could anything be Ching Chong from my lips --what a bunch of gibberish; I knew nothing about Chinese culture, but I knew no one spoke like that.

I remember, too, that in Texas, my two best friends and I clung to one other, protecting one another from the harsh slurs and taunting and just plain stupidity of the typical hormonal 6th-grader. We created a fortress by linking arms and always walked together in the narrow halls. I remember being conscious of Shalini, our Indian third, being made fun of for her hairiness and/or her odor. Grace was nearly perfect, I thought, but her being Vietnamese and me Filipina, still, we were Asian and this was something, apparently, bad. Our biggest steretotype was perhaps to be too smart (how terrible). But this also had to go hand-in-hand with, or mean, not-attractive. God forbid you could be brown, smart and pretty at the same time; that idea was only a fantasy.

There is something that extends beyond the number of incidences that I may be able to name that were "racist" -- micro-aggressions, and simply systematic and historical realities that, once you are aware of them, you could not become unaware. It was only much later, after college, that I became aware that we live in a society built upon slavery, and exploitation, and the murder of brown-skinned people who lived here before. Then I learned that in my islands there were indigenous people before came the Spaniards, and the Dutch, and the British, and the United States, before capitalism and westernized culture infected the minds and hearts and bodies; I learned that people in my islands wished to lighten their skin and go to great lengths to be light, to appear or be white, to speak white, to be Western, and to look down upon their own even before coming to the USA-- the exact process described by Fanon and Cesaire as internalized colonialism, internalized inferiority. I inherited the internalized inferiority complex: I wanted blond hair and blue eyes; I wanted a tall nose; I wanted to lose my melanin and tried to hide my shadow in the brightness of light-skinned people for much of my childhood and teenager-hood. I bought into believing my parents were less-than with their strong accents and "foreign” ways. If I did not -- how else would I ever belong?

It had to be systemic: how could a 10-year old invent the kind of complex that I recall dawning upon me like a heavy mist, a poisonous web, that I breathed into my lungs, that permeated my body. To be ashamed of my parents' tongue, our skin color, our bone structure, our food, our culture, to be ashamed.

To be ashamed as a woman may be something very universal, and especially under Catholicism, the gift of the conquistador to the natives of our islands and the other islands they descended upon. But to be ashamed to also be brown, to also hail from what I learned later were islands resembling, no, are actually, Paradise? Why and how could we feel ashamed of this? Why and how could we feel ashamed to come from Paradise, where people are warm, loving, communally-minded, resilient, culturally rich, creative, how can you possibly hate the place you came from that was Paradise?

The shame of our own bodies as brown and Filipina is a sad and shared experience. And now there is the irony that while in most of the world, it's more superior to be light, but there is also the fascination, the desire to be darker, to nearly consume, our golden skin. The irony that while lightness gains privilege, those same privileged envy – no, desire -- our melanin, our eyes and hair. To be envied yet to be looked down upon at the same time. To feel invisible in one moment, unimportant, seen as part of the help or someone who cannot speak for herself; and then in the next, seen as extremely intelligent, eloquent, and exotic. I never really knew how to accept the "compliment" of being exotic; was I a fruit? Was I something to eat? Why not be beautiful, like a fully-conscious and complete and (in my mind, neutral or standard) person could be? Couldn't I be complex and whole, too? Could we focus on normal things like ice cream flavors and what we liked to do, rather than dwell on the uncomfortable differentness of our bodies? I would have preferred to be smart, interesting and cool than to be exotic, any day. The journey of loving this body and this skin has been many years in the making. People are often surprised, because they see me as very Pinay proud, embracing my heritage and loving my body and brown skin. It’s been an evolution. For those of us who have lived outside of the liberal or progressive Bay Area, we’ve been exposed to different messages. Even IN the liberal Bay Area, we have to fight to drown out the noise; to make our own voices of self-love even louder.

#ahistoryofthebody #selflove

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averagemedgirl · 4 years

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Entertainment - 10 Positive Moral & Social Impacts of Some Clean Entertainment

Individuals, families, and our society must pay additional hours for a family group engaging in healthful activities as opposed to engaging in and seeing the inappropriate entertainment we're daily bombarded with. How can anybody argue against or dispute that our TV programs, movies, video games, video games, and also any other sort of entertainment are full of immorality, violence, filthy language, graphic images, and porn. Moreover, an inordinate quantity of playing with video gaming, watching TV, going to the pictures, playing our own iPods, or even wasting time on the world wide web is surely not helping improve communication and social skills (and of course cognitive skills).

Similarly, how can anybody not trust that spending some time for a family group - yes, even in case it's only playing matches - has incredible favourable effects that the vast majority of the entertainment of this entire planet doesn't provide? Because this really holds accurate it will give a whole lot more significance into the moral and societal effects that playing games like a household group - or engaging in just about any fresh and healthy entertainment - could have perhaps not merely to all of people as a family group, but because of the whole society.

Below are recorded 10 moral and societal consequences that playing games could have. As you'll find, in addition, there are incredible intellectual, psychological, psychological, physiological, and spiritual benefits as well (and of course the greater communication abilities that result). The Truth Is That these Exact principles apply to each of wholesome and clean entertainment; however because of the intents and purposes, We'll concentrate on playing matches really does possess amazingly favorable ethical and societal consequences:

Moral Impacts:

1 ) )The unfavorable moral effect of our society networking and entertainment:While I observe there are undoubtedly positive things which result from social entertainment and media of the own society, I am likewise not oblivious to how the huge majority is tremendously sensual, violent, materialistic, indulgent, and amusing in character. The impacts with the everyday bombardment are evident every where, according to the ever-increasing Illness, idleness, obesity, lustfulness, selfishness, and laziness that interrupts our society and reduces our possibility. Again, that isn't too much about playing matches or even engaging in fresh NaijaVibe as much since it really is all about making certain families, individuals, and our own society develop the features and personality necessary for individual happiness, family victory, and social progress.

Two )Marriages and families are ripped apart: I like it weren't authentic, however unfortunately for all - gender, immorality, and immodesty sells. As several greedy individuals and organizations earn a profit using the particular material, the sad and realistic effect is that - notions are corrupt, responsibilities and responsibilities are lost, temporary and indecent satisfaction becoming more important compared to self-control, sins and offenses are committed, dependence are manufactured, families are ripped apart, unions end, and our society's very socioeconomic values have sprung. Keeping thoughts tidy, switching away from temptation, or totally avoiding porn is growing more and harder considering that - the great majority of pictures, TV shows, magazines, songs, adverts, and blogs tend to be all immoral, immodest, sensual, and amusing in character. We're daily bombarded... and ergo daily fighting a struggle. It's a struggle to maintain our thoughts, habits, actions, and personality pure and clean and chaste. Again - that really is not all about playing games - this really is approximately keeping responsibilities, being loyal to the spouse and kids, and ensuring our unions and families aren't torn apart.

3)Winning and Losing - and also the need to cope appropriately together: Let's face it, all us may undergo substantially failure and success all through lifespan. It's 1 thing to drop a gaming in isolation, it's fairly another to be conquered within a match with family or peers watching. But knowing how to become a fun winner, in addition to a fantastic game and not just a sore loser will interpret appropriately in to one different successes and inevitable failures of the life.

4)To understand to check out rules, perhaps maybe not cheat, try to find goals, and also treat challenges: If some body cannot stick to the rules of a match, do they follow the rules of life? Perhaps that's just really a stretch, however, it's very crucial to take into account no matter. If a person could learn the major lesson of never cheating at a match, would that translate in their studies, work habits, and connections? Many matches also provide'missions' or objectives, and frequently a new person has to execute a plan or produce an action program or aims to perform this'mission.' Perhaps not really a bad thing to master, in my own opinion! And every match has its own challenges, setbacks, uncontrollable turns and twists - learning just how not to merely correct, but also cope with them appropriately is an attribute which can be interpreted in to different fields of life!

5)Avoid the results which bring about egotistical, primitive, and relaxing amusement: Perhaps the best issue with the great most entertainment of the society may be the simple fact it is therefore utterly self-gratifying in character. How frequently tend to be organizations started, videos created, and shows conducted to just fill time, amass dollars, and meet selfish desires and lusts. Temporary pride, instant gratification, and lost ethics and responsibilities regrettably replaces the actual happiness, confidence, health, savings, conscience, and enjoyment which good, fun, and fresh entertainment may offer. Usually the sole outcome of such relaxing and greedy entertainment is pity, guilt, humiliation, time wasted, and money lost, responsibilities prevented, duties ignored, and much potential legal consequences that appear to necessarily be an organization to such kinds of entertainment.

Social Impacts:

6)To have a great time and take part in fun, societal, and healthy entertainment: Perhaps above all, winning contests is only fun! It's diversion, entertainment, and joy - in a positive, respectful, socializing, and learning atmosphere. Not only does you develop selfesteem, develop a talent or skill, become happy with an achievement, or just just develop the power to socialize and work together - they have pleasure! There's something to be thought into this very straightforward and positive emotional benefits which will inevitably lead in kids, adults, teens, groups, and families spend more hours playing games along with less time in the front of the electronic mail that relatively can't create the exact identical positive advantages!

7)Developing the power to communicate and socialize together: How regrettable it is an increasingly wide range of our childhood now cannot speak to a grownup, watch them in the attention, or possibly show some respect for them. Can this because of the reality that a number of our childhood are spending their waking time in front of a laptop system, or even playing videogames, etc.. I will be certain that there's some significance. Turning from the TV and playing and computer games (not videogames ) allows and sometimes compels somebody to connect to, talk to, and also participate along with other folks. It's true, you're merely playing a simple game - but an important skill and also feature will be being developed at the approach.

8)The power to work together in a group environment: In respect with all the aforementioned mentioned point, playing matches allows (forces) someone to work together socialize together and play a team. Again - it really is nothing but a ridiculous match - however welcome to the authentic life of this absolute prerequisite of working and addressing other individuals. From class college endeavors, to involvement in community sports, towards the ultimate work force - understanding how to deal and work with the others, and being a portion of a'team' can be definitely an essential skill to produce for the temptations of life!

9)The absolute value of teaching, with, and extending our heads : In my own opinionit will take almost no (if any) attempt at all to see a movie, browse the internet or play with a gaming. What makes high school, faculty, which ultimate first occupation therefore very hard... as a kid hasn't developed the capability to make use of their mind at an innovative, compassionate manner. Winning contests isn't just enjoyable, but it takes us to become more creative, think fast on our toes, pullout facts and information people learned, cope with an obstacle, etc.,. Games induce our heads to be busy, perhaps maybe not idle! Games require interpersonal interaction, perhaps maybe not introverted self-removal. Games utilize and call for some of the brain which enriches other elements of life.

10)Learn from the others : One of the very favorite activities to do if playing games is in order to watch different players. Just how can they think, just how do they behave, just how do they handle success or defeat, just how do they connect to the others, etc.. The minute one steps off from the TV and computer (and its own unending negative effects ) and starts to connect to and watch the others, they are going to find they are sometimes influenced favorably (and sometimes possibly learn from bad cases ) by detecting and implementing the activities and attributes others.

In summary, it's necessary to be aware there are undoubtedly many kinds of entertainment which can be clean, wholesome, and upliftingnonetheless, it's plainly evident that the great majority of pictures, TV shows, adverts, advertisements, blogs, and much music epitomize the negative effects of the society's most entertainment this article discusses. As a result with the everyday bombardment, it's insufficient to just play games and take part in wholesome and clean entertainment since the immoral entertainment generally appears to always bombard us whether we seek it out or never. We all has to make a fix to show the TV off longer, switch off the internet more, put the magazine down longer, etc., and make sure the negative impacts of our society entertainment and media really would not destroy who and exactly what is most essential in life - and - loved ones!

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