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targquill · 1 year

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aemond being bad at love headcanons:

summary: aemond struggles with showing affection to his betrothed, but he tries his best.

warnings: unhealthy relationships, possessive behavior, manipulation (sort of??), smut (very short)

a/n: it’s been ages since I last wrote any type of fanfiction, so I’m a little rusty. also, English is not my first language and there might be some mistakes. my requests are currently open!

Aemond knew marriage was part of his royal duties, and he intended to play his part accordingly but he dreaded the thought of dooming you to a lifetime of misery.

Even before being maimed by his bastard nephew, he was rather shy and awkward around people, but the scar on his face made everything worse by inspiring fear or disgust - often both - to whoever interacted with him.

Growing up, he preferred to be alone and there were very few with whom he had exchanged more than a few words - mostly his family, Sor Criston and Vhagar.

When Aemond went to your house’s seat to be introduced to his betrothed, the first thing that caught his attention was the shy smile on your face. It wasn’t a nervous nor an overly practiced smile, but a genuine one to match the “nice to meet you” that left your lips while curtsying. He did not allow himself to smile back, but deep down he hoped you would not grow to hate the sight of him.

Once you were taken to the Red Keep to wait for the marriage, Aemond started to ignore you. Part of him wanted to approach you, but he would rather not put that ounce of sympathy you had showed him in danger by being in your presence any longer than necessary. The prince did not know how his personality would be perceived, and he was not confident enough on his poor socialization skills to court you the way a proper lady deserved.

He would pretend not to see when you waved at him or quickly turn his attention to something else - even if there wasn’t anything else to focus on - whenever you addressed him. He thought it wouldn’t take too long to give up, but instead of showing disinterest, you looked more and more disappointed whenever he would pretend to take no notice of your advances.

Soon, it became unbearable. He decided to aim at the possibility of you not hating him, instead of deliberately pushing you away. It didn’t matter how many books he had read, none of them taught him to be nice. So many songs and tales of charming princes and their ladies, and there wasn’t one he could relate to. He was royal only on his blood and his name, but his ways were far from a prince’s. But if you wanted attention, he could try to give you attention.

The prince noticed how your eyes lit up the day he greeted you back on the hallways, a barely there nod of his head, your cheeks flushing red as your ways crossed. Aemond’s heart felt heavy for a second: Was it foolish of him to trust feelings? Wouldn’t you forget him as soon as the burning interest turned into nothing but ashes? The betrothal was settled, and something as small as his doubts were not enough to call it off. He did not want to end up in a marriage like his parents', but from a young age he accepted that it would be no different when the time came for him to be betrothed; but you made Aemond cling into the faint possibility of the Gods selecting a different fate for him.

It didn’t take long for him to sit by your side during meals, stealing a few glances sporadically. The prince still refrained to talk, but he would gladly answer any observations you pointed out - even if it was a monosyllabic answer or a mere “hum”. He felt relieved because it seemed pleasant enough for you and, oddly enough, it was pleasant for him too.

He found himself longing to see you every day, the people on the court completely faceless as his eye searched for you. There was nothing brighter than the smile you always offered him, as if all the light that filled the room was nothing but a weak ember upon your presence. Aemond had grown used to his days being dark and grim, but you lit a way out of such darkness, and he couldn't help but to be drawn into your light. You were his salvation, the gift he had received after his years of torment - only his.

Aemond couldn’t stand seeing you interact with the frivolous ladies of the court. Every time he saw you looking - or worse - talking to any other men, Aemond had to control himself not to kill them right there and then. You were too good for them. Besides, the prince felt conflicted when you seeked other companies when he finally started reciprocating your interest. How could you spend time with other people when he was right there?

He hated how he was perceived most of the times, but his scar and the overall cold demeanor could be useful - people were easily scared by him. Thankfully, his lurking went unnoticed by you while the ladies and the lads that were drawing your attention away from him grew more distant everyday and you would eventually find yourself with no other company but him for the rest of the day. Everything went smoothly until you caught him. You were trying to keep your lady from excusing herself from your presence and ended up following her gaze and founding him behind a pillar. It didn’t take long for you to connect the dots and Aemond saw your affection slipping through his fingers.

“I do not wish to be disturbed.” Aemond stared at the door he had just knocked as if it was the mightiest of opponents. All he did until that moment was to protect and care for you. He meant well, but the only thing the prince brought upon the only lady (apart from his sister and mother) he ever cared for was distress. He wanted to see that gentle smile again, but even more than that, he wanted to be the one to inspire it.

Aemond opened the door to your chambers and caught a brief glimpse of you: laying on your bed, face down into the pillows and a blanket over your body despite the heat. “I believe I owe you an apology, my lady.” You looked at him and your tear tainted face made his heart ache. “I did not intend to upset you.” You sat, legs still covered by the blankets turned to the side of the bed. “And what else could you intend, my Prince? I can’t imagine another outcome for shutting me away from everyone else.”

“I’m not good with people, with feelings.” The prince started, trying to speak his truth as clearly as possible “When you arrived, I avoided contact because I was certain you would despise me. When you didn’t, I didn’t know how to reciprocate and, as we got closer - if I even can say that, but as I allowed myself to be seen by you - I was afraid of losing you.” Aemond paused and looked at you. He walked towards you, just to get a little closer, but noticing you tapping on the spot at your side on the bed, he sat beside you. “I thought that the more you met new people, the faster you would grow tired of me. I deeply apologize, my Lady. Can we start over? Teach me how to care for you.” You gently reached for his hand and held it. “Of course, my Prince.”

Things got better gradually. Aemond would start inviting you for a walk around the gardens and enjoy some comfortable silence. He would ask you to watch him train, so excited to show his skills to you and glad to see you cheering for him. The prince would notice how you and his sister got close and some mornings were spent with Haelena and her children. He only started talking more once you spent a few afternoons with him at the library, where he would talk about his favorite books and even teach you some High Valyrian.

With the marriage soon approaching and your bond growing stronger everyday, the only thing keeping Aemond from stealing a kiss from you was his own spite. There was also the respect he had for you and your virtue, but the core of his reasoning was more lewd and selfish: He wanted to take your innocence, every single part of it, on your wedding night. Nothing excited him more than the thought of you slowly being devoured by lust, giving in to the carnal pleasure only he could give you. That was the plan, at least.

One night, however, as he escorted you back to your chambers after supper, Aemond did not expect you to make a move. He never stayed long at your door at that time, but you kept clinging to the sleeve of his coat. “I’ve learned something new in High Valyrian, my Prince.” You said, sounding oh-so-innocent for him to handle, eyes shining despite the dim lightning. “Have you been practicing on your own, my Lady?” He was happy to see you so interested in his culture. You nodded, hands traveling to play with his hair. On your tippy toes, you whispered to him:“Vūjigon issa”. He stoped for a second and you giggled at his reaction. “Do you need me to translate it to you, Aemond?”

The prince looked around quickly just to make sure no one was around before pressing his lips against yours. The fact you wanted him too sparked the flame inside of him and all his common sense evaporated. The kiss was slow and full of love, allowing Aemond to express the feelings words often failed to convey. You kissed him back with passion, allowing him to explore your mouth with his tongue and sighing heavily when his hands snaked around your waist. Aemond wanted to stay at your embrace forever but as soon as he felt your nails grasping the hair on his nape, he had to stop or otherwise he would have deflowered you right there and then. He stepped back, a smirk on his face as he beheld your flushed complexion. “Soon, my Lady, I will do more than kiss you. Look forward to our wedding night.”

The noises from the feast were loud, but the only thing you could hear as Aemond lead the way to your shared chambers was the blood throbbing on your ears. He took his time to reassure you and kissed all of your doubts away, each brush of his fingers burning your skin with desire. All your live, you heard that sex was something to be endured in order to conceive heirs, but when your husband found shelter between your thighs and explored you core with his fingers and his tongue, it seemed more like a blessing. He was gentle when entering you, but once you had adjusted he lost himself on the pleasure and fucked you hard and deep and fast, marking the skin of your neck, hips and waist. He rested his forehead against yours after he came, staying inside a little longer and left soft kisses on your face and neck. After some time, you did it again. And once more before you fell asleep in his embrace.

The married life with Aemond was a little bit more peaceful. Of course, as any other couple, arguments happened. At a particular night, Aemond had been a little too harsh with his words, something he hadn’t done in a while. You were genuinely hurt, but time made you understand your husband’s ways and how he never truly meant his cruel words.

“My Lady, I hope you are aware that I do love you.” He said, after joining you in bed. Aemond would take a strand of your hair on his fingers or brush his thumb on your cheek. “I’m learning how to demonstrate that properly. I promise you that your patience with me will be worth it, I’m trying to become the husband you deserve.”

He knew how to make your heart ache with compassion for him. There was no way you could be mad at Aemond for too long, not when you knew how hard he was trying. “My dear, troubled husband, do not be so hard on yourself. I love you too.”

#a.: writing #hotd #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen hcs #headcanon #hotd headcanon #aemond targaryen headcanons

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bunabi · 4 months

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Man as someone who does a non-art dayjob to pay the bills, you genuinely have NO time for art esp if you work 40 hours a week 😭 it also makes it really hard to make art consistently? Not even for like social media update purposes but even just to ensure your skills aren't getting rusty while you're answering Becky from Finance's email.

I totally understand....I remember getting home from the night shift, having to open the morning after, and dragging myself to my tablet

and honestly scheduling was a point of contention for all my day jobs 😭 even ~unionized~ positions made no difference

part-time employers will acknowledge your other commitments, promise to abide by your schedule, then ignore it completely like you mentioned it as a bit

even at the library where I talked about my contract work to the hiring folks and the branch manager at length — even signed paperwork detailing my schedule and income — it was literally: we see you, we hear you, here is your ten-day shift streak, sucks to suck

on the bright side the experience has made me a much more assertive and evil person

#replies #sorry I went on a tangent im just so irritated still to this day lol

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gyuhanniescarat · 6 months

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Mr. Perfect Face (fall-ing for you collab) | Wen Junhui | [teaser]

: ̗̀➛ summary: Not being one to indulge in the party life, you indeed know of the campus heartthrob and infamous frat boy Wen Junhui, but you don't know who Wen Junhui is. So, when your best friend and her sorority sister bring you along to a mixer, you're in for quite a treat when the most popular, stunning guy on campus with the perfect face and body appears to show a keen interest in you.

: ̗̀➛ pairing: fuckboy!junhui x naïve!virgin!fem!reader

: ̗̀➛ genre: suggestive (minors dni! — If you're not 18+, then see yourself to the door n let it kick you), university!au, goofy comedy, cheesy fluff, subtle flirting, non-mutual pining, slow burn

: ̗̀➛ rating: (M) 18+

: ̗̀➛ teaser warnings: frat and sorority life, loads of stereotypical fall time college activities, mentions of drinking/ alcohol consumption. any names of other idols are considered to be OC's/ face claims. (this teaser is actually vv mid, but eventual smut is to be easily expected)

: ̗̀➛ teaser wc: 1.7k (and some change — i was feeling rather generous)

💌 MESSAGE FROM JESSI: heyyyy yah cutie pie luvvies! this is my FIRST time writing a series, and my return to writing on kpopblr after 8 months!! forgive me if this whole thing turns out to be cringe... but my writing skills are a lil bit rusty. i've been crafting this one for a lil while now, so i'm really feeling hopeful about showing y'all this series.

a huge thanks to the svthub admins for hosting this seasonal collab!! i'm so excited to participate in this project!! and a massive thanks to my daeeun luvvie @daddyfordaeddy for creating this stunning, sexy, flawless, aesthetic junhui banner 💕

: ̗̀➛ this series is in conjunction with the @svthub fall-ing for you collab. if you are interested in reading the other fics which are apart of this fall collab (please do, my besties have created some amazing work) i will leave the full collab masterlist here.

: ̗̀➛ there is an official taglist for the fall collab, but let me know if you want to be added to the series taglist (send me an ask, send a DM, or comment).

: ̗̀➛ enjoy a little snippet of what's to come in part 1, under the cut

~ dni/support banner/divider credit @cafekitsune

“Ohh… come on, babe! It's just a friday night party. Please. Come on girlie. You need to get out of the dorms for once and live a little.” Your best friend and roommate says, trying to get you to go along with her new greatest plan.

It's only been around 2 months since the Fall semester began, and yet your best friend is already nagging you about your social life, or lack thereof. When you entered college, you’d been determined to get through the 4 years of your undergrad quietly, although that has most definitely not been the case. As a result of a few monstrous professors and their power hungry whack-ass policies, here you are, a 22 year old English major still sluggishly trying to finish your program and find your way into the “real world”.

“Just a ‘friday night party’? Really. You really think I'm gonna buy into that, Yuyu? When is it ever just a 'friday night party'? Be honest with yourself.” You scoff, slightly bitter to the out of the blue suggestion your best friend is implying.

See that's the thing. It's not like you're a fun hater or something, but despite your lifelong friendship with Yunjin, the one thing you don't understand is why showing up at some dumb ass frat and sorority party is so important to a young woman's social life.

“I'm being so serious about this, babe. It's just a little mixer. We can leave at any point if you're not enjoying it. But, I promise I won't even leave your side once. And I'm sure Zuha will stick right by your side too. Right, Zu?” Yunjin coos, eyes silently exchanging thoughts with her sorority sister standing in the corner. “Ohh… y-yeah, yeah… totally.” Kazuha slightly awkwardly replies.

When the two of you ventured off to college, Yunjin joined the Gamma Phi Beta sorority in her freshman year. She had initially tried to encourage you to rush with her during that very first Fall semester. But being raised by your rather strict parents who had always discouraged you from ever engaging in the party lifestyle, you had grown up to become a simple girl. So, upon your entrance to university, you elected to stick to extracurriculars befitting of an English major.

While on the other hand, Yunjin found herself assimilating into Greek life quite easily and possibly far too quickly. All the parties, activities, charity events, alumni dinners, and the found sisterhood encapsulated this new chapter of her life. And this part of her life is how the two of you came to welcome Kazuha into your inner circle.

“I-i don't know, Yuyu. You're just so freaking used to going to parties and stuff now, but I… I'm not really sure that I can fit into the party lifestyle now after a life of being the ‘goody goody’. What would people back home say of me? How would my mom and dad react to the idea of me, their shy, sweet daughter going to a party where alcohol is involved?” You ramble on, anxiety and hesitation settling into your bones.

“Yes, you can. You can totally fit into the party lifestyle, because you got me. And as your best friend since the diaper days, I'm not gonna let you just live life as a ‘WHO’S that girl’. Nah, my babe, people should be looking at you and wondering ‘who’s THAT girl'. It's our college years now!” Yunjin counters, emphasizing her desire to see you start thriving in your young adult life, “And who cares what your parents or anyone back home thinks of you. It's YOUR life and you should live it the way you want.”

Should you? Yunjin has a point. You are an adult now, and your decisions are now your decisions. It would be nice to dip your toes into a life you’ve never known and finally experience what all the other girls your age have long been doing.

“I- Yuyu, you and Zuha are the popular sorority girls and pretty artistic major girls. I wouldn't even know where to begin. I mean look at me... I’m just some plain non-attractive girl that's an English major. What would I do at a party?” You ponder, sighing as you significantly degrade your worth in the process.

“Y/n, what are you talking about? I will not have my bestie slander herself like that. Nuh uh. No self-deprecating, only self-love and positive vibes allowed in this space right now, babe.” Yunjin lightly scolds, walking over from her bed on the other side of the room and sitting down beside you. “Now, we are going to go out, enjoy a little partying, maybe some flirting with hot guys, and live our best lives, okay? Because we're young, and besides, don't you wanna be able to look back on your 20s and say you have no regrets?” Yunjin tries to reason with you, grabbing your hands as she graces you with her signature pout.

Returning her pleading pout with an angry, grimacing pout and dagger eyes, you snappingly respond, “B-but why? Huh? WHY?! What exactly have you got up your mischievous sleeve, Yuyu? Why do you want me to go to a fucking frat and sorority party so bad? Tell me. I'm not even a sorority member. What? Have you forgotten all the party horror stories you used to share back in our teens? And don't you remember what happened at the blacklight party in the middle of junior year? I was so fucking flustered and inexperienced with boys that I vomited on Sunghoon’s shoes.”

“Yeah, I know babe. But that was high school.” Yunjin interjects. Sure. It was a horrific high school memory that still haunts you to this day. “Yuyu, that was the most embarrassing moment of my entire life thus far. Give me one good reason. Just one good reason why I should go with you and Zuha to the graffiti party tonight. Why should I get all dolled up just to end up spending my Friday night at some dumb ass frat house with you, getting caught up in a sea of sweaty, wild, drunk-off-their-ass upperclassmen? What's so fun about putting in a copious effort to look cute and hot just to go home with some pretentious fuckboy frat bro?” You argue, laying back and squeezing the life out of your fluffy throw pillow.

Kazuha looks at Yunjin with a face full of confusion. “W-wait… you haven't told her yet, Jen? Junhui, he—” Kazuha questions, wondering why her ‘big’ sister hasn't explained the reason she's so determined to get you to the party. “Just tell Y/n about what Junhui said to you earlier outside the sorority house.”

Junhui? As in… Wen Junhui?! The most popular guy on campus. Wen Junhui, the biggest heartthrob of the Sigma Chi fraternity?! Wen Junhui, the charming performing arts major who everyone predicts could very well become an idol? THAT Junhui?

“Wen Junhui?! Wh-w… what did he say, Yuyu? Did he ask you to be his plus one to the graffiti party tonight?” You sputter in disbelief, words coming out almost like 100 miles per minute. Rather than respond to the onslaught of interrogative questions that's being thrown her way, Yunjin stands up and walks across the room, going towards her 'little' Kazuha. The two girls now silently exchange suspicious looks, as if they're having a conversation that you're not privy to hear.

Normally, you can pick up enough on the unspoken context and vibes from your best friend's facial expressions and body language. But, it seems at this very moment you can't even read your best friend of 15 years at all. What she's thinking about is beyond you at this point. Hell, now that you’ve linked her to Junhui, she could be in a string of deep thought contemplating all the discreet methods she could apply to freaking murder you in your sleep tonight, and you would have no damn clue.

“Ughh… Yes, bestie. That Junhui. The one and only Junhui in the Performing Arts program that's majoring in the departments of Practical Dance and Music. And no, you little brat! It wasn't me that he was asking about. Actually, funny enough, he wasn't even asking about any of the girls in the sorority at all.” Yunjin scoffs, arms folded and crossed over her chest, her hazel doe eyes narrowing as her piercing glare locks in on you.

“She's not lying, y/n. Jen really meant it when she said Junhui didn't ask her about any of the girls in our sorority.” Kazuha clarifies, embracing you by sitting down in the empty space on your bed and holding your hands out.

Still riddled with an overwhelming sense of shock and disbelief, your ever curious mind can't stop itself from asking the deepest burning question plaguing your current thought process, “So, i-if he wasn't looking to invite you, Yuyu, or one of the other girls in your guy's sorority… then, who… who was Junhui asking about?”

Over in the other corner, perched on her bed, back resting against the wall under the window, Yunjin snorts, her facial expressions hardening as her eyebrows snap together. The look she gives you is that of sarcasm. Suddenly, she reaches towards her nightstand and grabs her phone. Without a single word, but a very intimidating and compelling gaze in Kazuha's direction, Zuha scrambles to take the phone from Yunjin. Opening what appears to be kakaotalk chat logs, Kazuha moves closer to show you the screen.

“You. Fucking hell. It's you, y/n. Wen Junhui wasn't asking Jen or I about any of the sorority sisters. He asked both of us about you, y/n. Junhui personally inquired about you. He really really wants you to come to the graffiti party tonight, y/n.” Kazuha explains, passing the phone over to you.

You? Pfft. Yeah right. Not a chance. Wen Junhui asking about you? THE Wen Junhui asking Yunjin and Kazuha about you? If this is some kind of sick joke concocted by the older Gamma Phi Beta girls, you won't be forgiving at all.

“Wen Junhui… THE Wen Junhui asking not about someone else, Pfft. Nice try there, but that's the funniest shit i’ve ever heard. Come on, Yuyu. Seriously, Zuha? Wen Junhui personally asked you two about me going to a mixer when I've barely spoken more than two words to him in the span of a month. Yeah right.”

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bigfan-fanfic · 4 months

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Writing Game 1.1: Simple

Prompt: Picnic Pairing: Bruce Wayne/Clark Kent

Thank you to the 87 wonderful freaks who voted on my lil poll! I hope you enjoy the first of nine little short fics for this first round!

"Y'know, traditionally, picnics don't involve so much... silver." Clark chuckles, gesturing at the chilled silver tureen of fruit, the mahogany charcuterie board, and the few cloche-covered platters of sandwiches, profiteroles, and chocolate covered strawberries laid out as they take a picnic in the gardens on the grounds of Wayne Manor.

Bruce gives a smirk, his dark blue eyes twinkling. He leans across Clark, enjoying the way the farmboy blushes as he glances down where Bruce's shirt creases at the open button. "That so? I wasn't aware you were a picnic aficionado."

"Oh, hush." Clark chuckles, pushing ever so gently against Bruce's chest to move him back to his side of the plush red patterned carpet laid down beneath them in the garden - probably some material like cashmere.

"Truthfully, I... may have gone a bit overboard." Bruce admitted. "Despite my extensive training, I am... rusty with my culinary skills."

"Wait, you're telling me part of your Batman training was cooking?"

Bruce levels an unamused look at the astonished Kansan.

"Sorry. Carry on."

"I just... sometimes I can go overboard when it comes to extravagance, to cover up the inadequacy I feel at the basic level."

"You're charming enough at parties." Clark muses, observing Bruce, watching him make a conscious attempt to remain open in his body language, to defy the instinct telling him to conceal his emotions. It was adorable how hard he had to try to be vulnerable.

"It's easier when I'm playing a role. When I'm Bruce Wayne, the socialite, the Prince of Gotham, it's no different than playing the role of Matches Malone, or any other aliases. I can throw myself into the character. When I'm stripped of pretense... I'm woefully incomplete."

"Well, that's just not true."

Bruce rolls his eyes. "You really think that? My deficiencies in simply making a meal for myself without Alfred's aid, my failures as a parent and mentor, my lack of skill in basic socialization-"

"When you make yourself into a checklist, you're bound to leave some stuff out. You look at yourself with such a critical eye, you're bound to see all the flaws before the good. If nothing else, that just goes to show how self aware you are." Clark smiles, gently plucking a chilled square of watermelon.

"Leave it to you to turn my self-pitying musings into a complement."

Clark smiles, using a black cloth napkin monogrammed with a gold W to catch the juices of the fruit running down his chin. "Pa always used to try and freak me out. He said if you swallow a black watermelon seed, you'd grow a watermelon in your stomach."

Bruce raises an eyebrow. "I haven't heard about that."

"It's not true. In fact, it's not even anecdotally true; nothing will happen, they're not even slightly toxic, like apple seeds. It's just some random thing we used to say or believe. Like that you shouldn't swim right after eating."

Bruce doesn't talk about his parents. Just as a general rule. And he doesn't now, even though he can probably tell that Clark is wondering if Bruce's dad would've told him these silly little lies, or any of the other countless common parental platitudes. Clark is a deeply empathetic person, and it hurts him to imagine that Bruce never got to be with his parents. It's not even the same kind of situation as him with Jor-El and Lara, who are still somewhat strangers to him - he still had parents. Still had Ma and Pa. And Bruce had Alfred, but it couldn't be the same.

Clark looks at him and instead says, "Can I have a hug?"

And Bruce looks startled, but obliges him. Gracefully, fluidly rises and practically straddles Clark, embracing him. Clark sighs happily and leans back until he's lying down, Bruce on top of him, pulled into an inadvertent kiss.

They kiss for a while, then lie together looking straight up, watching the clouds drift by in the sunlight. A brilliant day, not even just by Gotham standards. Bruce still isn't sure that Clark didn't fly up there before the picnic to ensure the perfect weather.

"I don't mind how extravagant you are. I think it's just how you show love. And besides, I know you don't really mind how plain I am."

"I envy it. I wish I could be simpler, I just... don't know how."

"I don't need you simple, silly. I just need you."

"That's exactly the kind of sugary sweetness I expect from you."

"Why, I do believe I'm growing on ya, Mister Wayne."

Bruce looks at him. Clark looks back. He can see Bruce steeling himself, preparing. And he lets out a very, almost comically, serious...

"I love you."

Clark allows himself one second of pure shock, realizing just how much it took from Bruce to say that, finally.

"I love you too."

Bruce's hand finds its way into Clark's, and they stare into the sky until the sun starts to set and the honeybees start coming for the fruit left uneaten.

Some things, it seems, truly are that simple.

#writing game #bruce wayne x clark kent #superbat #dc headcanons #headcanons #i love the idea that bruce really wants to express his emotions #but it's just a mental block for him #and clark is just content to move at his pace #and they love each other

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thana-topsy · 5 months

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Ok I gotta come out and say it. I envy you. Like, to a painful extent. The amount of people you get interested in your characters, how you're incredibly skilled in both visual art AND writing, how readers your fics have. I absolutely adore your work, but seeing it fills me with so much envy it's honestly ridiculous.

Did you deal with similar feelings towards other creators when you started writing fic by any chance? If so, how did you deal with those feelings? I feel genuinely stuck feeling worthless about my fics. I'm not as verbose with my language despite over 10 years of writing under my belt and it seems as though my plots don't interest people as much either. So I feel like there's just nothing of worth about any of my work.

I know that this is a lot to dump on you, but I felt like I would burst keeping this all in. Much love to you and I hope you have a wonderful New Year!

Hey there my friend, I've been sitting with this all day trying to decide how I want to answer you. I genuinely appreciate your honesty, because I know this is a familiar feeling for a lot of people, myself included.

I remember when I first rejoined Tumblr in early 2019, desperately trying to find anyone to talk to about TES, I would look at all these blogs gettings asks about their OCs like they were little celebrities and feel envy and longing. Now, when these feelings start to bubble up, I force myself to take a break from sharing my work, be it art or writing, if only to remind myself why I'm creating it and who I'm creating it for: myself. I know it sounds cheesy, and I probably sound like a broken record, but genuinely I just do this because it's bursting out of my skull. But I won't lie and say the engagement and the support doesn't have a big impact on my motivation. I love sharing with people and getting an enthusiastic response.

I think something people might not realize, or maybe they just forget, is that I used to write a lot of smut. Like...a lot of smut. (I still do). Hahaha and it doesn't get a lot of comments or engagement, but it does draw a lot of eyes. Once my smut stories started taking on heavier plotlines, a comment I'd get a lot was "came for the porn, stayed for the plot." And I wasn't writing smut because I thought it would get me an audience, I was just horny LMAO. But it encouraged me to branch out and experiment with the types of stories I was telling.

Anyways, art is another big part of it, yes. But that also didn't get a lot of engagement in the beginning, and my skills were rusty as hell. I was getting maybe 15 notes on here, 30 likes on instagram. But that didn't really matter to me, I was just insane with inspiration. I'd reach out to people and ask to do art trades, got ghosted a lot, made some good friends, (some people who are still my good friends to this day!). But it took a lot of risks, and I made a lot of accidental enemies and learned a lot of hard lessons. But having visuals to go with the stories I'm writing is like advertisement in its own way. I'm just lucky enough to hyperfixate on this shit like it's my lifeblood. I've always obsessively drawn my favorite characters, ever since I was a wee bab. Long before social media was a factor or the words "content creator" even existed.

And I think that's what it all comes back to. Above all else, do what you do with unbridled joy. If someone else finds joy alongside you, all the better! Even if it's just one person. Take risks, make friends, make enemies, draw that blorbo unapologetically and with wild abandon. Love what you create, even when it's bad. Even when it makes you cringe years later, don't delete it. Even when people try to find every reason to hate what you do and who you are. Don't stop.

Every act of creation is bringing something into the world that didn't exist before you made it. And that alone gives it worth.

Happy New Year!

#topsy's asks #long post

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