#and I want to set goals that i can be conscious of while I’m writing and see if I can improve my prose that way | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mashedcontroller · 2 years

Text

A while ago, I made a comment that I think stories where an oppressed minority and an oppressing majority set their differences aside to work towards a greater goal can be good. This was in a post comparing how FMA03 and FMAB handle the topics of genocide in their stories and I concluded that the reason this doesn’t work in FMAB is because the show combines this with genocide. I meant the comment hypothetically at the time because I couldn’t think of any really good examples off the top of my head. I think the closest thing that comes to mind is Zootopia, but two problems. First, I haven’t seen Zootopia so I can’t make any honest comments on the movie. Second, I’m aware that Zootopia’s gotten it’s fair share of criticisms for how it handles the concept of race and racism. Instead, I want to elaborate on that point because the story structure of two opposing demographics setting aside their differences is a common story structure, especially when it’s done to face a common foe.

This second story structure is similar but ultimately not the same as the first thing I suggested because the element of oppression isn’t a relevant factor here, which makes it much more popular because you don’t have to worry about accidentally coming to offensive conclusions for the sake of the plot that introducing the topic of oppression or real-world analogies often runs into, and you can still effectively get across the idea that people should put aside their differences instead of fighting each other. This moral take-away is going to be far less nuanced than considering oppression for several reasons. Firstly, you can largely ignore that setting aside differences will require both changes from a large collection of individuals as well as major systemic changes. Not to mention erosion of stereotypes. If this is happening in a story involving a war, there’s propaganda, bad blood, political negotiations, economic changes, etc. that go into this idea that aren’t requirements to address in works of fiction. Alongside that, fiction has its own needs. Depending on the tone, themes, priorities, stakes, etc. different solutions for “how are these two groups of people going to collaborate” will be better suited for a given story. The easiest way to do this is to say “these two peoples are working together because there’s a third scarier threat to them both.” That type of narrative is satisfying but sidesteps realism. Luckily, realism isn’t always important, so that detriment can be completely irrelevant. For the record, this solution doesn’t work when implementing oppression into the narrative because oppression is a thing that happens in the real-world that basically everyone is conscious about and has to interact with on some level, so realism and themes become much more important.

When there is a common foe, this is a great way to raise the stakes, especially in stories that prioritize raising the stakes as the story progresses. Which, itself, is probably the most common way to write a story because it’s satisfying and an easy way to maintain tension. For reference, other ways of doing this are fluctuating what type of stakes are used and keeping the stakes consistent between arcs, which are both better options if your goal is to be releasing chronological additions to your work over an extended period of time (think works like the Pokemon Anime where the show wasn’t created with the idea of having an ending to reach and the ending simply happens because the studio decides to quit making more). The common foe method of resolving the issue of the two groups at odds with each other also allows for the writer(s) to brush aside spilt blood that may have happened, either by transferring the blame of that blood to the new threat or by deciding that this new threat is so relevant that there isn’t time to feel resentment.

My favorite subversion of this is from Xenoblade Chronicles X, a JRPG that isn’t particularly known for its writing (or really at all, ppl kinda forget it exists). Earth is blown up in the prologue and two years later, the humans that escaped crash land on an alien planet that is occupied by the Ganglion; one of the factions responsible for blowing up the earth. The Ganglion are a group consisting of multiple alien species and there are multiple instances in the main story and sidequests where various alien species join humanity to fight the Ganglion. The way Xenoblade X subverts this story structure is that it has multiple really good stories about characters defecting or lashing out against allied aliens. Probably the most interesting decision made here is that the two alien races that gets the most abused when showing this happens to be the only two alien races that have no affiliation with the Ganglion and are introduced by being actively hunted down by them. Meanwhile, when you introduce the aliens that were actively allied when the Ganglion, they tend to receive less of the vitriol. Alongside that, you get human characters who defect and work with the Ganglion as retaliation to the earth being blown up despite the Ganglion being the ones to blow it up. And these characters all have reasoning that may not be sound, but I found to be believable, which made for some really interesting antagonists that still fit into the framework of the game’s central theme that differing peoples need to work together both to survive and to thrive. It also allows for Xenoblade X to incorporate the idea of oppression and racism into its story without falling into the same messy pitfalls that FMAB did. It also avoids the major pitfalls that fantasy racism often runs into, mainly because while the game addresses fantasy racism, it at least alludes to irl racism existing in this universe, even if it doesn’t cover it much to my knowledge. Though, a lot of the game’s story content is in its sidequests and the game has several hundred of them so I could’ve very easily missed something. Even if there is a sidequest I missed, the game is overall far more interested in discussing the relationship between the humans and the aliens than it is with talking about the relationships between different flavors of human. The one instance the game talks about irl oppression to my knowledge is in the main story where a character is says that the people who made it onto the space ship evacuating earth consisted of sponsors (billionaires), politicians, and military.

Probably the other biggest thing that differentiates these types of stories from stories about oppression is why those two populations are against each other. While doing this but with oppression does have this happen sometimes, it’s almost always handled badly. The reasoning for this is that if you base your fantasy racism off a real-world thing, you’re immediately thrown into how water because it will result in a more specific analogy than potentially intended which will result in discrepancies between the fictional demographic and the real demographic being scrutinized. This almost always reflects poorly on the author. But if you use a fictional source of oppression, writers often run into the issue of making the oppression seem almost reasonable due to worldbuilding on a cause-effect basis. I think the funniest version of this comes from Xenoblade Chronicles where one guy decides to kill every human being because otherwise God will eat them and he really hates God (because God is a cunt). I’d argue that using blood-purity as a basis for oppression in fictional settings is the most popular solution to this because blood purity is not a politically relevant concept in today’s culture. Not that this is something immune to being altered, for example, Nazis were a common punching-back villain in the 1990s and 2000s but that’s less so now when neofacism is more of a thing. But at the moment, I’d argue that blood purity being a common cause of fantasy oppression is because it’s an easy explanation in the event that you’re writing fantasy oppression and don’t want to make any potentially controversial takes. That’s also why catgirl racism is a thing that sometimes occurs in fiction. I’m guessing that half the reason is because Inuyasha was a popular anime in the 90s and a major character arc in that show was the Inuyasha was a demon catboy who had an identity crisis over being a demon (catboy) and catgirl oppression could’ve been derived from that. The thing that catgirl oppression pretty much always runs into is cognitive dissonance. Where the anime in question can pretty much word for word copy a social justice movement (or bastardize it, doesn’t matter) and there will still be people who simply do not notice because the subject of the oppression is catgirls instead of a real demographic. This applies for fantasy racism that isn’t catgirls, I just wanted to bring catgirl racism up because it’s an easy enough target and I needed something to dub the term where a piece of fiction depicts racism one-for-one except they use a fictional race instead of a real one. This type of depiction of oppression will happen solely because it’s more marketable and it’s more susceptible to cognitive dissonance. You can’t claim that any version of FMA isn’t making a stance on racism because the fictional target of racism is a minority group of humans. You can claim that Zootopia isn’t about racism because the target of racism is anthropomorphic animals. Especially when works like Beastars have similar dynamics between predator and prey animals but then takes the premise of predator and prey animals living in a society and does it a lot more literally. And also sexualizes it (lmao). With Beastars specifically, I don’t really get the impression that it’s making any statement about race; I get the impression that it’s making a statement about the idea of anthropomorphic animal societies. If it was trying to make a statement about race, I’d be too confused to properly comment on it. Which I think is the other reason why excluding the concept of oppression is more popular in fiction; it makes room for some very interesting stories because aggressions and shitty behavior doesn’t have to be largely one-sided. In Beastar’s case, a lot of the conflict and worldbuilding (at least in Season 1, I haven’t seen Season 2) centers around the idea that half of the population literally needs to eat people in order to survive. There’s not really a clean solution to that premise because that’s literally the basis for an unsustainable society, but that’s where a lot of the show’s interest comes in. Most things resembling oppression in the show are based off individual species and lean into the idea of making an anthro society that’s also a giant fucking mess.

A lot of fiction takes the approach of making two factions go to war with each other, which can be as in-depth or abstracted as the writer prefers. In Undertale, for example, the idea of the game is “what if you can make friends with the monsters?” The war between humans and monsters in the lore is in service to that idea, but the monsters are presented as a group that utterly lost that war rather than a group that’s been oppressed by humans. There’s nothing in game implying the protagonist’s opinion on the monsters one way or the other because of the game using a blank-faced silent protagonist (opposed to emotive silent protagonists which are a bit different). I imagine the game’s story reads very quite poorly if read through the idea that monsters are meant to represent a racial minority. A lot of the time the forces in question are roughly equal. The reasons for fighting can be anything from there literally is no reason to being as complicated as the writer can physically fit into the lore. The cause of the sides stop could be anything from a heartfelt conversation the protagonist has to a long-running arc involving everyone and everything, and the reasoning can basically be whatever the author comes up with. There’s just a lot of flexibility to this format.

Stories about two peoples learning to get along are just super popular because they’re basically the idea of two people (singular) learning to get along but more. Two characters doing that is already a great basis for a story because it’s an easy source of tension, character development, conflict, and catharsis, so being able to expand that concept to fit major story themes, large parts of the cast, etc. is just “take something that works and go brrr.” It just also can run into a lot of weirdness when the concept of oppression is thrown into the mix because sometimes writers don’t realize that stories about oppression need to be handled with more care than stories that aren’t about oppression and ideas that are compatible with more abstract stories become problematic when direct parallels to real-world demographics can be drawn.

#fmab #beastars #xenoblade chronicles x #analysis #it also becomes very.. interesting might be the word i'd use..#when stories are about oppression of one demographic but then proceed to also have blatant stereotypes of another #which happens surprisingly more often than I'd expect #that or i just ran into it more often than it statistically happens #since i tend to have a pretty small list of media that i consume #hopefully this analysis isn't unintelligible it's completely uneditted :)

3 notes · View notes

almostnoisydonut · 2 years

Text

𝓡𝓲𝓬𝓱 𝓒𝓱𝓲𝓬𝓴: 𝓦𝓪𝔂𝓼 𝓽𝓸 𝓘𝓷𝓿𝓮𝓼𝓽 𝓲𝓷 𝓨𝓸𝓾𝓻𝓼𝓮𝓵𝓯 𝓪𝓼 𝓪 𝓦𝓸𝓶𝓪𝓷

We’ve already had the chance to make (and break) our New Year’s resolutions, so instead of resolving to do something, setting yourself up for success this year can simply mean putting yourself first in certain areas and making it a priority to invest in yourself.

The better you are, the better you do. So why not prepare yourself for future opportunities that align with your talents and skills in a fulfilling way? It’s time to make thoughtful investments in your most valuable asset: you!

What does it mean to invest in yourself?

Investing in yourself means devoting your resources (time, energy and money) to things that will give you a return. They’re all equally important and valuable.

That can be as simple as investing money in the stock market, and receiving twenty percent growth on your investment five years later.

It might be investing Rp 500.000 in an online course that shows you how to start a blog; and being able to then go off and start your own blog and start writing and publishing every day.

Or it might be investing one hour each day on self-care; like working out, cooking yourself a meal, or taking a relaxing bath.

An investment should somehow make you richer, whether it’s through money, knowledge, new skills, relationships, experience, support, or even self-worth and inner peace. That might happen right away, or it may take months or even years to pay dividends.

What matters is that you are being conscious with your valuable resources each day, and choosing to use them in a way that supports you, and aligns with where you want to grow.

Conferences are not only a great place to learn, but they are also a great place to network with leaders in your industry and become known. Very seldom do people bloom into their best selves by keeping themselves shut away. And while the cost of conference tickets plus airline and hotel can add up, if you are thoughtful and strategic about which conferences to attend and why, and plan ahead for the costs by stashing away each month (or getting your employer to sponsor your attendance) you can ensure you get the very most out of them.

There is pretty much a coach for whatever area of your life you are most interested in improving: life coach, professional coach, money coach, health coach and so on. What they all have in common, however, is that they will work with you on an individual basis to help you reach your goals and overcome anything that you may be struggling with.

Establishing your personal brand online will only serve you professionally. In a world that is connected 24/7, it’s more important than ever that you create a positive perception of who you are when someone Googles your name. Ask yourself what people should know about you and what you want others to think of you. Between all the social media platforms, share a consistent message of who you are and what you’re all about.

Tap into your passions by turning them into a money-making business on the side. Maybe you have a full time job already, but it’s not leveraging all your talents and abilities. If it’s not possible to express certain passions you have from 9am to 5pm, use your other waking hours to. You don’t have to have ambitions of starting a Fortune 500 company in order to begin something that allows you to expend energy doing something you really love and, in turn, make some extra income in the process.

You don’t just have invest in learning new skills. Think about the skills and gifts you already have.

How can you invest in them further, and take your skill to the next level?

The more time you spend doing something, the better you’ll become at it. They say it takes 10,000 hours (around 10 years) to truly master something; so if you want to be great then show up for yourself and commit to putting the work in.

I’m a writer, so I invest my time in waking up early and writing almost every day. Even when I feel un-inspired or tired or I really don’t feel like it. And I can see my growth when I look back at some of my articles from just a couple years ago. This is the power of investing in yourself.

Whether it’s learning more about subjects that will enhance your professional growth and contributions or practical life skills, take the time to learn what you don’t know and never stop learning. There are thousands of free online college courses from accredited universities to keep your competitive knowledge of your industry sharp. The internet is full of resources, articles, blogs and videos on just about anything you’d want to know. Of course, one of the ongoing ways to invest in yourself is to get money smart and take control of your finances and book. All of these ways to invest in yourself this year have the potential to lead to more opportunities and higher income. Therefore, pay special attention to the finances that support your life and do what you can, now, to maximize the returns that may come your way.

0 notes

verxsyon · 3 years

Text

·:*¨༺ ❝ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐖𝐋𝐘𝐖𝐄𝐃𝐒 ❞

marrying the person you are in love with has to be the best decision you have ever made. here, we explore the daily life of our four unique suitors as newlyweds.

✧ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠. luke + artem + vyn + marius x gn!reader

✧ 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭. headcanon (bulleted) ; 1.3k

✧ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞. married au ; fluff, suggestive (artem + marius)

✧ 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐚. i just started playing tears of themis and i’m completely hooked. i think the game is telling me to simp for marius since i have so many cards of him (luke, i’m sorry!). not officially writing for the fandom, however! just a huge brain rot that needs to be let out.

𝐋𝐔𝐊𝐄 𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐄

epitome of childhood friend romance. in my opinion, he’s the top tier bestie anyone could ask for.

he has been with you for as long as you can remember — through thick and thin, and through the good and the ugly. it’s natural for him to make jokes here and there around you, including marrying you when he comes back to stellis. little did you know, he was very serious about it. years later he will be at your door to put a ring on your finger, and the rest is history.

whenever he comes home from work, you are either cooking in the kitchen or sleeping on the couch while the TV is on. you two have a special welcome home greeting, which starts with a kiss on your temple followed by an exchange of heys.

you: “hey, lu.”; luke: “hey, you.” and afterwards, he’ll pepper more kisses along your jaw until he places one upon your lips before asking how your day went.

he loves to update you about his investigations. realizing that he can’t keep everything to himself, his goal is to confide in at least one person he can trust. it makes you so happy to hear that he’s enjoying his job despite the amount of stress he may be experiencing.

on his day-offs, he’ll marathon crime shows with you — popcorn, drinks, and everything. his favorite show to marathon is sherlock since he is inspired by him.

he claims to miss you whenever he’s away for long hours performing his investigations. to cope with his concern, your husband keeps a picture of you in his breast pocket so you’ll always be in his heart no matter where you are in the world.

𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐌 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆

he may appear cold and strict on the outside, but is actually a warm and awkward softie on the inside.

due to his status as basically being married to his job as a senior attorney, romance is the least of his worries until you enter his life. his approach to you for a date isn’t as smooth as the both of you had expected, but he improved in that aspect when he popped the question.

even after months into your marriage, he still doubts how he gives you affection. are his lips in the right place? is he holding your hand right? ever since the incident where he accidentally groped below your back when he was trying to hug you, he remains self-conscious whenever he touches you.

to make him comfortable with initiating intimacy, you would walk around the house half-naked and observe his reaction from there. instead of admiring your body, he rushes to lend you a piece of his clothing to cover yourself. what a gentleman indeed, but this is not the result you wanted.

“artem, honey.” he flinches at the heat enveloping his front. the sight of your bare legs makes his skin flush and paralyzes his movements. you guide his hands to your sides with a gentle smile on your face. “relax. you’re doing everything more than perfectly.”

a hidden talent of his is that he can cook, and my goodness his food is brilliant. on some days when you come home late at night, seeing a delicious platter by your husband is quite the treat. to further practice his romantic skills, he would set up wine, candles, and flowers as well. to be honest, he doesn’t need to go all out because cooking dinner is already romantic enough for you.

he is fond of children, especially their positive energy. in fact, it’s canon that he visits orphanages and hangs around them. the moment you step into one, he knows that the children will automatically love you. he would be lying if he said he didn’t imagine having a family with you, but time will tell when the two of you will be ready.

𝐕𝐘𝐍 𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐑

a wise person once said, “he is the whole package.” a psychiatrist who is also a criminal psychologist and he’s hot as hell? not to mention that he’s also good at pretty much everything the universe has to offer.

his emotions are still hard to read even after marrying him, but he’s trying his best to make them transparent. although you can’t tell in plain sight, he appreciates every single thing about you, most especially your belief in him being loved.

in addition, he appreciates your knowledge in classical music. you have brought up the fact that you did play piano a while back multiple times while the two of you were still dating. his wedding gift to you was a grand piano, which made you cry not because he had thought of you, but because it cost thousands. that being said, you are touched that he had thought of you.

the grand piano surprise motivates you to regain and refine your musical skills from the past. you challenge yourself by practicing a difficult piece, which vyn recognizes almost immediately just by a few notes. your hands crash and burn against the white keys, startled by your husband’s sudden presence.

“keep playing, my love.” he snakes an arm around your waist to pull you into a kiss. “you are doing so well.”

besides psychology, he’ll be glad to teach you some of his hobbies such as equestrianism and gardening. in comparison to luke, he is also quite knowledgeable in areas either related to or outside of his expertise. you don’t know whether to admire or fear the capacity of his intellect.

whenever he’s free of work, he’ll take you on bike rides around the city and perhaps have picnics at the park. spending time with his spouse is what he deserves from juggling between teaching students to treating patients to solving cases on a daily basis.

𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐔𝐒 𝐕𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐍

a little shit. always a little shit, but is your little shit who deserves a slap in the face (affectionate).

your first meeting with the heir of the pax group was insufferable to say the least, justified by his constant teasing and duping. he was a person that you wanted to avoid at all costs, but he eventually managed to win your heart and settle down with you.

the von hagen household isn’t itself without the two of you bickering left and right. the topics in questions are usually miniscule, and marius is aware that lawyers do not invest their time in such types. he always forfeits from the arguments in your favor, suggesting that he’ll make it up to you with gifts.

speaking of gifts, he loves spoiling you with a range of his own paintings to stuffed animals from the arcade to luxurious brands of the pax group. he has done so much for you already, you tell him to stop buying all those things. of course, he doesn’t listen and still does it anyway to keep you happy.

the ultimate king (haha, get it? that’s his codename at nxx. okay, i’ll stop now lol.) of teasing doesn’t let you breathe in peace, whether that be in public or at home. as an act of revenge, you do the same. except more, um… spicy.

he sometimes catches you in your robe when he comes home from work. he seems to not suspect much other than you look very sexy in it; after all, he was the one who bought it. you’ll make your intentions known by whispering in his ear, “i’m not wearing anything under.” let’s just say he doesn’t waste any time to wipe that so-called innocent smile off your face.

somewhat on the same side of the spectrum, he paints portraits of you which he hangs around the house. you made a mistake of telling him to “draw me like one of your french girls”, and now he won’t stop pestering you to take your clothes off. (the paintings of you are priceless; they’re for his eyes only.)

✧ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬. (if your url is in bold, that means i can’t tag you!)

@dreamiehrs ; @help-wtf-am-i-even-doing ; @lilikags ; @sleepyyangyang

#✦ .fics #tears of themis #tears of themis x reader #tears of themis luke #tears of themis artem #tears of themis vyn #tears of themis marius #luke pearce #artem wing #vyn richter #marius von hagen #luke x reader #artem x reader #vyn x reader #marius x reader #luke pearce x reader #artem wing x reader #vyn richter x reader #marius von hagen x reader

3K notes · View notes

writingwithcolor · 3 years

Text

What Does Our "Motivations” PSA Mean?

@luminalalumini said:

I've been on your blog a lot and it has a lot of really insightful information, but I notice a theme with some of your answers where you ask the writer reaching out what their 'motivation for making a character a certain [race/religion/ethnicity/nationality] is' and it's discouraging to see, because it seems like you're automatically assigning the writer some sort of ulterior motive that must be sniffed out and identified before the writer can get any tips or guidance for their question. Can't the 'motive' simply be having/wanting to have diversity in one's work? Must there be an 'ulterior motive'? I can understand that there's a lot of stigma and stereotypes and bad influence that might lead to someone trynna add marginalized groups into their stories for wrong reasons, but people that have those bad intentions certainly won't be asking for advice on how to write good representation in the first place. Idk its just been something that seemed really discouraging to me to reach out myself, knowing i'll automatically be assigned ulterior motives that i don't have and will probably have to justify why i want to add diversity to my story as if i'm comitting some sort of crime. I don't expect you guys to change your blog or respond to this or even care all that much, I'm probably just ranting into a void. I'm just curious if theres any reason to this that I haven't realized exists I suppose. I don't want y'all to take this the wrong way because I do actually love and enjoy your blog's advice in spite of my dumb griping. Cheers :))

We assume this is in reference to the following PSA:

PSA to all of our users - Motivation Matters: This lack of clarity w/r to intent has been a general issue with many recent questions. Please remember that if you don’t explain your motivations and what you intend to communicate to your audience with your plot choices, character attributes, world-building etc., we cannot effectively advise you beyond the information you provide. We Are Not Mind Readers. If, when drafting these questions, you realize you can’t explain your motivations, that is likely a hint that you need to think more on the rationales for your narrative decisions. My recommendation is to read our archives and articles on similar topics for inspiration while you think. I will be attaching this PSA to all asks with similar issues until the volume of such questions declines.

We have answered this in three parts.

1. Of Paved Roads and Good Intentions

Allow me to give you a personal story, in solidarity towards your feelings:

When I began writing in South Asia as an outsider, specifically in the Kashmir and Lahore areas, I was doing it out of respect for the cultures I had grown up around. I did kathak dance, I grew up on immigrant-cooked North Indian food, my babysitters were Indian. I loved Mughal society, and every detail of learning about it just made me want more. The minute you told me fantasy could be outside of Europe, I hopped into the Mughal world with two feet. I was 13. I am now 28.

And had you asked me, as a teenager, what my motives were in giving my characters’ love interests blue or green eyes, one of them blond hair, my MC having red-tinted brown hair that was very emphasized, and a whole bunch of paler skinned people, I would have told you my motives were “to represent the diversity of the region.”

I’m sure readers of the blog will spot the really, really toxic and colourist tropes present in my choices. If you’re new here, then the summary is: giving brown people “unique” coloured eyes and hair that lines up with Eurocentric beauty standards is an orientalist trope that needs to be interrogated in your writing. And favouring pale skinned people is colourist, full stop.

Did that make me a bad person with super sneaky ulterior motives who wanted to write bad representation? No.

It made me an ignorant kid from the mostly-white suburbs who grew up with media that said brown people had to “look unique” (read: look as European as possible) to be considered valuable.

And this is where it is important to remember that motives can be pure as you want, but you were still taught all of the terrible stuff that is present in society. Which means you’re going to perpetuate it unless you stop and actually question what is under your conscious motive, and work to unlearn it. Work that will never be complete.

I know it sounds scary and judgemental (and it’s one of the reasons we allow people to ask to be anonymous, for people who are afraid). Honestly, I would’ve reacted much the same as a younger writer, had you told me I was perpetuating bad things. I was trying to do good and my motives were pure, after all! But after a few years, I realized that I had fallen short, and I had a lot more to learn in order for my motives to match my impact. Part of our job at WWC is to attempt to close that gap.

We aren’t giving judgement, when we ask questions about why you want to do certain things. We are asking you to look at the structural underpinnings of your mind and question why those traits felt natural together, and, more specifically, why those traits felt natural to give to a protagonist or other major character.

I still have blond, blue-eyed characters with sandy coloured skin. I still have green-eyed characters. Because teenage me was right, that is part of the region. But by interrogating my motive, I was able to devalue those traits within the narrative, and I stopped making those traits shorthand for “this is the person you should root for.”

It opened up room for me to be messier with my characters of colour, even the ones who my teenage self would have deemed “extra special.” Because the European-associated traits (pale hair, not-brown-eyes) stopped being special. After years of questioning, they started lining up with my motive of just being part of the diversity of the region.

Motive is important, both in the conscious and the subconscious. It’s not a judgement and it’s not assumed to be evil. It’s simply assumed to be unquestioned, so we ask that you question it and really examine your own biases.

~Mod Lesya

2. Motivations Aren't Always "Ulterior"

You can have a positive motivation or a neutral one or a negative one. Just wanting to have diversity only means your characters aren't all white and straight and cis and able-bodied -- it doesn't explain why you decided to make this specific character specifically bi and specifically Jewish (it me). Yes, sometimes it might be completely random! But it also might be "well, my crush is Costa Rican, so I gave the love interest the same background", or "I set it in X City where the predominant marginalized ethnicity is Y, so they are Y". Neither of these count as ulterior motives. But let's say for a second that you did accidentally catch yourself doing an "ulterior." Isn't that the point of the blog, to help you find those spots and clean them up?

Try thinking of it as “finding things that need adjusting” rather than “things that are bad” and it might get less scary to realize that we all do them, subconsciously. Representation that could use some work is often the product of subconscious bias, not deliberate misrepresentation, so there's every possibility that someone who wants to improve and do better didn't do it perfectly the first time.

--Shira

3. Dress-Making as a Metaphor

I want to echo Lesya’s sentiments here but also provide a more logistical perspective. If you check the rubber stamp guide here and the “Motivation matters” PSA above, you’ll notice that concerns with respect to asker motivation are for the purposes of providing the most relevant answer possible.

It is a lot like if someone walks into a dressmaker’s shop and asks for a blue dress/ suit (Back when getting custom-made clothes was more of a thing) . The seamstress/ tailor is likely to ask a wide variety of questions:

What material do you want the outfit to be made of?

Where do you plan to wear it?

What do you want to highlight?

How do you want to feel when you wear it?

Let’s say our theoretical customer is in England during the 1920s. A tartan walking dress/ flannel suit for the winter is not the same as a periwinkle, beaded, organza ensemble/ navy pinstripe for formal dress in the summer. When we ask for motivations, we are often asking for exactly that: the specific reasons for your inquiry so we may pinpoint the most pertinent information.

The consistent problem for many of the askers who receive the PSA is they haven’t even done the level of research necessary to know what they want to ask of us. It would be like if our English customer in the 1920s responded, “IDK, some kind of blue thing.” Even worse, WWC doesn’t have the luxury of the back-and-forth between a dressmaker and their clientele. If our asker doesn’t communicate all the information they need in mind at the time of submission, we can only say, “Well, I’m not sure if this is right, but here’s something. I hope it works, but if you had told us more, we could have done a more thorough job.”

Answering questions without context is hard, and asking for motivations, by which I mean the narratives, themes, character arcs and other literary devices that you are looking to incorporate, is the best way for us to help you, while also helping you to determine if your understanding of the problem will benefit from outside input. Because these asks are published with the goal of helping individuals with similar questions, the PSA also serves to prompt other users.

I note that asking questions is a skill, and we all start by asking the most basic questions (Not stupid questions, because to quote a dear professor, “There are no stupid questions.”). Unfortunately, WWC is not suited for the most basic questions. To this effect, we have a very helpful FAQ and archive as a starting point. Once you have used our website to answer the more basic questions, you are more ready to approach writing with diversity and decide when we can actually be of service. This is why we are so adamant that people read the FAQ. Yes, it helps us, but it also is there to save you time and spare you the ambiguity of not even knowing where to start.

The anxiety in your ask conveys to me a fear of being judged for asking questions. That fear is not something we can help you with, other than to wholeheartedly reassure you that we do not spend our unpaid, free time answering these questions in order to assume motives we can’t confirm or sit in judgment of our users who, as you say, are just trying to do better.

Yes, I am often frustrated when an asker’s question makes it clear they haven’t read the FAQ or archives. I’ve also been upset when uncivil commenters have indicated that my efforts and contributions are not worth their consideration. However, even the most tactless question has never made me think, “Ooh this person is such a naughty racist. Let me laugh at them for being a naughty racist. Let me shame them for being a naughty racist. Mwahaha.”

What kind of sad person has time for that?*

Racism is structural. It takes time to unlearn, especially if you’re in an environment that doesn’t facilitate that process to begin with. Our first priority is to help while also preserving our own boundaries and well-being. Though I am well aware of the levels of toxic gas-lighting and virtue signaling that can be found in various corners of online writing communities in the name of “progressivism*”, WWC is not that kind of space. This space is for discussions held in good faith: for us to understand each other better, rather than for one of us to “win” and another to “lose.”

Just as we have good faith that you are doing your best, we ask that you have faith that we are trying to do our best by you and the BIPOC communities we represent.

- Marika.

*If you are in any writing or social media circles that feed these anxieties or demonstrate these behaviors, I advise you to curtail your time with them and focus on your own growth. You will find, over time, that it is easier to think clearly when you are worrying less about trying to appease people who set the bar of approval so high just for the enjoyment of watching you jump. “Internet hygiene”, as I like to call it, begins with you and the boundaries you set with those you interact with online.

#PSAs #asker concerns #diversity #motivations in writing #writing with diversity #blog housekeeping #internet hygeine #asks #WWC

1K notes · View notes

lacheri · 3 years

Text

rituals

pairing: boyfriend!Levi & fem bodied reader

content: modern au, established relationship, over stimulation, penetrative sex, oral (f receiving), body worshipping, a sprinkle of somnophilia and dacryphilia, Levi really loves his pet names, very minor OCD portrayals, minors DNI

wc: 5.7k

notes: not me creating an entire tumblr so i can post my smut lmfao. this is my first time writing smut like this, so i hope ya’ll enjoy (:

Levi couldn’t tear his eyes away from you, even if he wanted or tried to. You were just so beautiful to him, long eyelashes fluttering against your cheeks as you tried to drift off to sleep. He insisted that you faced towards him every night, his eyes tearing up from pushing away blinks because he genuinely couldn’t bring himself to miss even a second of you. It was borderline obsessive, definitely the craziest ritual he had, but Levi just couldn’t help it. This was the only time he fully and unabashedly got to admire you, and it wasn’t like you didn’t mind the attention. In fact you’d lay there fully conscious, steadying your breathing and squinting just barely to watch him watch you. Your boyfriend wasn’t an overly affectionate person, but God did he love to spend hours memorizing every curve and line of your pretty face.

Levi’s fingers reached out, tracing your cheekbone with his knuckles, breathing a hair above a whisper, “So gorgeous.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from blowing your cover, a wide grin erupting from your lips. Eyes still closed, you heard Levi chuckle, “Seems like my brats’ still awake.”

Instead of answering in fear of ruining the moment, you snuggled closer to your boyfriend, burrowing your head into the space between his neck and shoulder. You placed an innocent kiss there as you brought your left hand up to rub tiny circles on his bicep. His shirtless body was warm and soft from his earlier shower, and he had just decided on sliding into your freshly washed bed sheets with you in just his boxers. You couldn’t help but take notice of his hardened length pressed against your stomach.

“So sweet for me tonight,” he rasped, fingers edging under the fabric of your silk shorts.

“I’m always sweet for you,” you moved your head back to look up at him, batting your eyelashes and pouting.

Levi took your bottom lip in between his index finger and thumb, gaze locked in on how it rolled in between them. He groaned softly to himself letting go, leaning in to indulge himself in a kiss. You eagerly matched his slow, sensual pace. His hand wandered back to your shorts, slipping underneath the bottoms to caress the back of your thigh. He molded the soft flesh between his fingers, biting softly at your lips for permission to taste you. Your tongue licked in response against his bottom lip, Levi taking it upon himself to push his tongue forward to dominate yours. His taste buds slid sinfully against yours, twisting and turning around the muscle. You tasted divine. All mine, Levi thought to himself.

The tips of his fingers traveled upwards to the fullness of your lower cheek, not being able to stop himself pulling the handful towards him. He softened his grip, feeling your ass jiggle back into its original place. His mind ran wild, images of your naked body flooding his head. You couldn’t help but let out a soft sigh, feeling a familiar burn rumble in your lower stomach. Unlike your boyfriend who could play and get you wound up for however long he saw fit, as soon as you got started all you wanted was him inside you. Patience was not in your personality, and as he continued to paw at your lower half, you had one goal set in mind.

“Wanna’ get on top,” you demanded, breathless and feeling needy as you pulled away from your kiss.

Levi’s kiss traveled to your cheek, down your jaw and neck as he responded, “No, not done with you yet.”

“But Levi,” you whined, shifting an octave higher as he sucked the side of the column of your throat. His tongue drew delicious circles before going back to peppering kisses.

“Patience, brat. You’re being so good, don’t want to ruin that by being whiny, do we?” He ended his question with a light smack on your ass, removing his hand all together after to lean his torso up to hover over you. You gulped, the burning feeling intensifying as he stared at you with predatory eyes. You nodded slowly, feeling accomplished as he murmured, “That’s my good girl.”

Levi easily guided you to lay flat on your back on the bed, fully encasing you in between his strong arms. You eyed his biceps as he balanced over you. The full moon that looked just outside your bedroom window was a blessing in disguise as it illuminated the room, casting flattering light on all it saw. Your favorite thing about Levi’s body was his arms, toned and strong, and always so in control. You practically drooled watching them flex as he leaned in back to your neck, this time trailing kisses upwards. His lips met you in a kiss again, this one a bit heavier and needy than the last.

His right hand strayed up to your face again, Levi always needed to touch you, and his thumb ran along the edge of your jaw, a grip solidified under your chin when he pulled his face away from yours. He titled your head up, his stone colored eyes locked in on yours. His jaw was slacked open as his eyes kept traveling your face. Every time he saw your face it was like a spell, he was completely devoid of ever being able to gaze at another’s after being graced with yours. In a flash, images of you looking angelic in a white dress came to mind, and with a pretty diamond ring burning a hole in his sock drawer he had yet to show you, his cock throbbed. Levi’s lips attached aggressively to the spot where his fingers accompanied, sucking fiercely down. You bit back a moan as heat pooled instantly between your legs, oblivious to his thoughts.

“Levi,” you moaned, both of your hands shooting up to his waist leering above you.

“Yes?” he moved downwards again, this time taking the buttons of your silk shirt in between the pads of his fingers, popping them open slowly.

“I love you,” your eyes fluttered closed, heart race increasing. His did as well, flickering to your bra-less chest and back up to the soft smile that lit up your face.

“As do I, brat.”

Levi pushed your unbuttoned silk sleeping shirt open, gazing down in awe at your exposed chest. Your nipples were pert and standing to attention, and you felt like your heart was going to slam out of its confines. Levi always did this to you, every time you made love felt like the first. You wondered if this effect would ever go away, but as he leaned down and flicked one of your hardened nubs with his tongue, you wholeheartedly believed it never would.

His lips encircled around your nipple, his hand began toying with your other breast. His licks and sucks were slow, so agonizingly slow, but did Levi just love to work you up and tease you. On the nights you were an extra good girl for him, he’d let you take charge and tell him what you wanted and give it to you. Unsurprisingly, there was absolutely no time wasted in foreplay. Of course this power change wouldn’t last very long, Levi would find it too amusing how quickly being in control went to your head. He needed to remind you on those nights that he was only allowing you to act that way, and Levi was always the one in charge.

You could feel the throbbing of want from your core, not being able to hold back a whine as Levi continued his assault. His hand stayed kneading your breast as his lips moved south once more, tongue lolled out on your skin to leave a saliva trail. He had to feel every square inch of you, lapping against the soft skin of your torso. He bit playfully at the underside of your boob, and you let out a tiny yelp in response. His lips smoothed over the light impressions of his teeth, kissing languidly to earn back the soft moans and sighs he was eliciting from you.

Deciding then that your clothes were an offensive insult to his existence, Levi huffed and abruptly yanked down the waistband of your shorts, taking your lace panties with it. This had caught you off guard, but before you could react, Levi had slipped one of his hands under you on the small of your back to lift your hips while the other tugged down your shorts and panties to your knees. You lifted your knees up on your own to your chest and he pulled the garments off the rest of the way, throwing them off to a forgotten corner of the room. His hands returned back to you quickly, landing on the back of your heels, and he leaned up onto his knees to gaze down at you from hazy eyes. Wherever his fingers trailed, his eyes followed. Feather light scratches traveled the underside of your feet, his palms facing towards you. You shivered involuntarily, your body was on fire and he hadn’t even touched you where you needed him the most yet. His digits finally met the tips of your toes, and his knuckles wrapped around the tops of your feet, massaging them in the process. Levi’s eyes flickered up then, expression completely stoic, but you saw every emotion swirl in his cloudy grey eyes. The want, the need, the complete and utter adoration, it was all there.

“You’re so fucking stunning,” Levi spat as if he had spoken an insult. “All fucking mine, I want to hear you say it.”

“Levi, please, touch me,” you begged, fed up with him toying with you.

“Tell me, now.”

“I’m yours,” you pleaded, nearly in tears as your frustration built. “I’ll always be yours. Please, baby.”

“Such a good girl,” Levi praised, face softening after getting what he wanted. He pressed his lips to the top of your right toe then, never breaking eye contact. He didn’t spend much time on your feet, only peppering closed mouth kisses until he reached your ankle. His fingers followed shortly behind his lips, eliciting goosebumps in the trail of his light touch. You were a whiny mess, he was just getting you so worked up. You knew he didn’t reward bratty behavior like this, and you really did try to control it and keep it in, but you were just getting so frustrated that Levi wasn’t giving into what you wanted, no, what you needed. And every kiss closer to your aching center moved slower and slower, stopping completely once he reached the insides of your thighs.

Taking your knees in a tight grasp, he spread you completely open in front of him. You clenched around nothing in anticipation, a silly grin on your face. You bit softly on your bottom lip, watching him devour you with his eyes. It was just so much to take in, Levi was groaning to himself, burning the image into his memory. There just weren't words to describe it, having you like this felt almost holy. His eyes struggled to fit you all into one simple picture, wanting to focus on every single detail; The way your pussy glistened and the muscles contracted, the darkened skin in the inner creases where your center met your thighs, the skin bunched together on your stomach from having your legs spread so wide and up, the tiny bumps of your areolas, the way you sucked on your bottom lip, eyes so wide and pure, hair a fucking halo around you. He placed his hands on the sides of your center, spreading you open with the pads of his thumbs resting on your outer lips. Levi wasn’t a religious man in the slightest, but God did he want to put your body on an altar and goddamn pray to you, worship you, die for you, kill for you.

Levi finally leaned forward, his lips placing an open mouth kiss to the bare skin above your folds. It was all way too much teasing, and you couldn’t stop yourself from squirming, trying to push yourself closer to his mouth. He shot a warning glare up, daring you to continue disturbing him.

“Bad girls don’t get what they want, brat,” the vibrations of his grovel were so close to your aching clit, and you let out a choked moan in response.

“I’m sorry, baby,” your head became clouded, feeling like you were going to explode. “I’ll be good, I promise.”

“This is the second time I’ve had to remind you,” Levi took his index finger and finally stroked it against you, a shaky intake of breath elicited from you. “Don’t let there be a third.”

The tip of his finger circled gently on your clit, exposing the pearl in the center. Every time his soft touch brushed against it, you wanted to sob. Your loving boyfriend, so gentle and caring, taking his ever loving time with you. He watched you as if he had never seen another woman in his entire life, it would always be just you. Even the mere thought of someone aside from you had him growling. Whilst you were all his, he belonged to no one else but you, and he felt every urge to prove that to you.

The assault of his tongue was a shock to your system, nerves sizzling deliciously. Levi was a man on a mission, and he knew exactly how to get you to come undone under him with the rhythm of his mouth. There was a pattern to be appreciated, a ritual even, and Levi was a man who found reason in a routine, because routine always worked. You knew this well even outside the bedroom, Levi ate the same foods every day to stay as fit as possible, he color coded every single thing in your home to stay as organized as he could, losing his mind if he even suspected a hint of dust on any of his furniture. He told you once before that you were the one compulsion that didn’t drive him utterly insane, and in Levi’s world he pretty much declared his eternal love for you. And you definitely didn’t mind this attention in the slightest, because although the thoroughness of his touches and kisses made you want to ignite into ball of flames with desire and frustration, there would never be another man on the planet who could make you feel as beautiful and as loved as Levi did, or who would be worthy of receiving of your own love and adoration.

Levi’s took his free hand to your opening, circling the area with pressure. His tongue still licked and sucked faithfully on your clit, you whimpering and mewling at his worship. His index finger pressed in, your walls instantly sucking him in as far as you could take him. You shuttered, eyes rolling into the back of your head as his finger began to move inside of you. He was grazing the ridges, pumping the digit as the knuckles of his fingers made a ‘come here’ motion over and over. And when he added a second one to add to his pattern, the coil in your lower stomach was about to burst. Of course Levi could feel the change of the pulses of your walls, holding a squeeze for longer seconds than the last ones, and he knew you were close. He angled his fingers then so the tips rubbed against the spongy part of your cunt, pumping his fingers even faster, creating friction at your entrance as well.

Between his expert fingers and the suction of his lips, you came fast and violently, not being able to voice a wanting, white light flooding your vision as you arched your back and your eyebrows knitted together, your mouth hanging agape in a breathless scream. Levi watched all of this before him, and couldn’t help but rut against the bed in his boxers. You were simply heavenly, and had he humped the bed the entire time he was eating you out, he would’ve came in his boxers without hesitation.

The contractions slowed but Levi did not, knowing he could get at least one more out of you before he moved on to the main event. The stimulation was too much, too overwhelming coming immediately off of your high. Your muscles were still so tight, not completely relaxed and your clit was just so sensitive. It didn’t take more than a few strokes of his fingers yet again to have a quick orgasm.

You moaned louder the second time, although the first one was stronger. It just felt so good, not nearly as satisfying as the first, but the waves washing over you were unbelievably strong.

Levi removed his mouth, and watched his fingers slip out of you, skin pruned from your cum. He placed a kiss on your thigh, bringing his gaze to your weary expression, “Such a good girl for me, I think I’m going to reward you.”

Your ears perked and you lifted your head from the pillow, “Reward?”

“Yeah, why not?” he sucked where he was placing kisses, eyes locked in on yours. “I’m going to let you pick how you want me to take you.”

Your eyes widened, an excited smile gracing your features. Now this was rare, and you realized that Levi must’ve been in an exceptional mood to let you have even a fraction of control right now. Or, on the flip side, he was setting you up to lose control so he could find a reason to punish you. Either way, you couldn’t wait to find out.

“On top,” you begged yet again, sitting up on your elbows and sliding out of your opened shirt. “I want to watch you.”

“So needy,” he scoffed, grabbing the backs of your thighs and pulling you further down the bed so you were eye level. His chin was covered in your arousal as he leant in for a passionate kiss, lips mashing together. He easily flipped you over so you laid on top of his muscular form. You sat up, knees bent on either side of his hips. You placed your hands on his lower stomach to steady yourself, thumbs brushing against the elastic of his black boxers. Levi had strategically rolled you so you sat pressed bare against his erection, and he could feel how wet your pussy was through the fabric. He audibly groaned when you pressed further down, rubbing yourself on his clothed cock.

Your hips rocked back and forth in a lazy rhythm, and Levi was having absolutely none of it. Although he could deal out plenty of teasing, what he wasn’t going to allow was for you to give it right back to him. Really, it wasn’t on purpose, you promise. It was just there was no time to waste, and you would find any kind of satisfaction any way you possibly could.

His hands gripped hard at your hips, stopping your motions entirely, “Oi, brat, you trying to get a strike three?”

“I’m sorry,” you apologized once again. “Feel so good, I can’t stop.”

“How could you?” his expression softened, bringing his thumb to trace your lips in mock empathy. “You’re so spoiled.”

Levi then took matters, literally, into his own hands. He patted your thighs so you could lift your hips as he grabbed his thick cock out of the confines of his boxers. It slapped against his stomach, and you saw the glisten of precum on his slit. Your mouth watered, eyes drinking up every second as he pulled the clothing down his legs, kicking them off his ankles. You sunk your hips down again, letting out a whimper as your clit made direct contact with the head of his dick. Levi pulled his bottom lip in with teeth, face scrunched as he let out a low hiss. You slid against him a couple of times, lubing his shaft with your arousal. Grabbing the base, you angled him at your entrance, eyes glued to the spot between you. His eyes stayed trained on your angelic face though, not trusting himself to bust on the spot as you began to slide yourself down on his length.

“Fuck,” Levi cursed, nearly drawing blood as he bit down. Your mouth hung agape, eyebrows furrowed and tears pricking the edges of your lash line. “So fucking tight.”

Fully impaled on top of him now, a fat teardrop rolled down your face, landing on his lower abdomen, and Levi was instantly regretting letting you take control like this. All he wanted to do was to feel your pelvic bones wrapped around his fingers on your hips as he unforgivingly plowed into you. He hated seeing you cry, but in the bedroom, he didn’t mind it one bit. It was an arousing reminder that no matter how many times he made you cum before hand, no matter how drenched your core was, you would still struggle to fit all of him inside of you. He would even go as far to call it a sick fascination, a warranted deal as lovers to see you sob and hiccup on his length. His ego was fragile, as are most men, but as you opened your teary eyes and met his lustful glare, he felt as if he could take down the entire fucking world for you.

“Oh my god,” you cried softly, angling your hips upwards to bounce back down swiftly. You both let out a groan as you met his pelvis once again, feeling the tickle of neatly kept pubic hair tickle your clit. As much as you wanted to grind yourself down on his base to get yourself off yet again, the furrow of Levi’s brows and the sight of his lip tucked between his teeth gave you motivation to continue on.

Raising yourself up again quickly, now feeling your cunt adjust more to keep taking him, you used all the power you could muster in your knees and thighs to lower yourself down, then up again, into a steady rhythm. A bit slow for both of your preferences, but you fully knew that his patience would wear thin soon and Levi would just haul you onto your back again, having his way with you.

His thick tip continuously brushed against your ridges, every time you would purposefully clench yourself as you met his base. Whimpers escaped your lips, the sounds of you and your cunt gripping him for all its worth filling the room. You would’ve been embarrassed had this been anyone else, but truthfully, Levi was the only man who could ever get your beautiful pussy to this state of unending flow. You were soaking him, and the both of you knew that after all this was said and done, the sheets that were just pulled out of the dryer not even an hour ago would go right back into the wash, all because of you. No, you weren’t going to take the blame. It was all because of Levi, and what he was doing to you.

His hand smacking your ass brought you out of your thoughts as he grumbled, “You fucking brat, you’re fucking yourself on my cock to wind me up, huh? You’re really wanting that strike three?”

“No,” you managed to moan out as your pussy clenched from his words. “I’m really trying my best, Levi.”

Levi’s hands grasped your hips as your cunt was trapped at the top of his fat tip, stopping your motion entirely there as you hovered, “I don’t fucking believe you.”

With one swift motion, he thrusted upwards, hard, burying himself right up against your cervix. You yelped in response, tears resurfacing as the pain mixed with the pleasure. This was exactly what you had wanted, and Levi knew this, but you would refuse to admit it.

“Wanted me to get fed up, didn’t you?” he grit his teeth, plunging himself into you once again, unbelievably even harder this time, your moans turned desperate.

“Please,” is all you could whimper, his harsh thrusts increasing in pace as he fucked himself into you. Not once relinquishing his tight grip on you. All you could do is hover above him, grabbing onto whatever you could to steady yourself.

Another loud smack was heard as you felt a sting against your ass, and now you were really sobbing, “Please, please!”

“Please, what?” Levi venomously spat out, eyes darkened in lust and in mild anger. You knew it wasn’t legitimate anger, and all his look did was feed the flame growing in your core.

“My legs can’t hold up anymore,” you cried, fat tears rolling down your face. Your knees were buckling, a tender ache in your thighs had your body wanting to go limp.

His hold on you eased up, maneuvering his hips so his cock slid out of you with a squelch. You fell into his lap, trying to catch your breath as fast as you could before he locked you in another grip, rolling around so your stomach was flat on the bed. His cock, now soaked in your juices, was grinding into the seam of your ass, and he was groaning at the contact. Truthfully, you’d let him fuck himself anywhere he wanted. And God, did Levi want to use that to his advantage. Not tonight though, he had one goal, one place in mind, and that was your beautiful, angelic cunt.

He slid himself back in between your folds with no resistance, his knees locked in between your legs to prevent you from closing them in a reaction. His fingers tangled themselves in the back of your head, pulling it up by your hair so he could hear every single mewl and whimper from your beautiful mouth.

From this new angle, Levi was buried so deep within your body that every nerve was singeing, lit aflame by the wondrous pleasure. Pulling his hips back slowly, he could feel every ridge and muscle in your plush cunt, and he let out a subtle growl. He pressed back in at the same pace, almost torturous. He eyed the handprints on your ass, and felt his ego soar. Every mark, every bruise, every touch, your body was entirely his, and his alone.

His fingers unwound in your hair, grasping both of your full ass cheeks in his hands as he plunged in, flicking his hips faster. You heard and felt the smack of his balls as he bottomed out inside of you, and all you could do was gasp and hiccup at the impact. He repeated it, again and again, increasing his speed every time. He angled himself then to brush his engorged tip to that sweet spongey spot inside of you, fucking right up into it with every thrust. He really had you moaning then, your hands reaching forward to grasp the pillow in front of you, knuckles white in your grip. While the sight was erotic, seeing the back of your head as you stuffed your face into mattress, body completely limp under him, Levi wanted to see that beautiful face of yours as he brought you to a climax. He could feel your cunt squeezing him, ready to cum, but knew how your clit needed the extra attention to bring you there.

When he pulled out of you suddenly, you let out a frustrated cry. He silenced it very quickly, flipping your body once again to lay on your back. Strands of your hair were stuck in sweat against your forehead, mouth agape and he couldn’t help but smirk at the sight of your moistened lips, unable to stop the drool as your mouth hung open. Your legs still parted, bent at the knees, he grabbed your thighs and pulled you even closer, aligning himself with your vulva once again. His hands stayed there, his cock standing to full attention, needing no guidance, as he filled your tight hole, and continued fucking you.

Your breasts bounced from the impact as you tried, so very hard, to match his pace with your hips. You did well at the beginning, feeling the skin to skin contact against your clit as your bodies met full on. Your legs were shaking though, unable to hold a rhythm long enough to get off, and you gave in, allowing him to take full control.

“You’re so close again, aren’t you?” he chuckled darkly, his right hand leaving the smooth skin on your thigh to travel in between your legs.

“‘Wanna cum, please, Levi,” you pleaded, your eyes screwing shut, hands attaching themselves to his looming biceps.

“You haven’t been very good, though, brat,” he chided, almost mockingly. “I don’t know if you deserve it.”

“I’ll be good!” you begged, hips shakily trying to match his pace once again. “Please!”

“You’re gonna’ be a good girl?” he asked, gaze dark and hungry as he drank in your desperate form.

“Yes, yes!” you nodded furiously, eyes opened now, watching his own flicker up to yours.

Without answering you, or teasing you any further, his thumb met your clit, and you moaned so fucking loud that Levi almost came from the sight of you. He pulled his thoughts together, focusing on getting you off first. His thrusts fastened, your pussy squelching as the sound of slapping skin echoed in your bedroom. Levi’s thumb worked in quick circles, no intent of letting up. No, you wanted to come, so he was going to make you fucking come.

The coil was never unwound in the first place, and his attention had you seeing stars. The pressure in your abdomen kept building, and you could feel every single slide and inch of his dick everywhere inside of you. At your sweet spot, in your entrance, the encouragement of his thumb on your most sensitive area. It was all too much.

“I’m gonna’ cum,” you panted as you threw your ankles around his waist, wanting to pull him in deeper.

“Cum for me, beautiful, cum on my cock,” Levi begged, feeling his own release impending.

That’s all it took, your jaw dropping and knees shaking as your pussy pulled in him so deep, and squeezed him painfully tight. Your head was empty, and Levi watched you completely fall apart below him. Seeing pure white, eyes locked in on his, his face screwed together in his own pleasure. That’s all it took to finally push you over the edge. Your cunt gripped him harshly, and feeling the first contraction, Levi couldn’t hold back anymore, his thrusting desperate and thumb moving so fast his wrist was aching. He flicked his hips as you pulsed around him, shooting his load deep inside your velvet center.

As you screamed his name, he moaned out yours, both of you stilling completely aside from his thumb working you down. Even as he came down from his height, your cunt was still milking him, albeit at a slower pace now. His thumb slowed movement, your contractions winding down as your chests heaved.

Levi quite literally had to force himself out of you, your pussy that tight on his dick. He watched in adoration as some of his seed spilled out of your hole, and using the same thumb he brought you to your climax with, he pushed the fluid back inside of you.

Thank God for birth control, you thought, breathing heavily as you watched him from below.

Levi threw himself out of the bed, taking shaky strides over to your on suite bathroom. He spent a couple minutes there, and you stayed in the same position, trying to find any energy to move. Not much to his surprise, he looked on in adoration to see you still sprawled out, your eyes closed peacefully as you enjoyed your post orgasmic bliss. Now this was a face worth studying tonight.

You jumped when you felt the cool contact of a wet rag meet your folds, and your eyes opened and followed Levi’s hands as he diligently cleaned you, his focus intent on your womanhood. You cringed when you finally looked down at yourself, inner thighs glistening under the pale moonlight. So much for laundry day.

“Normally this is the part where I tell you how good you were,” Levi’s eyes flickered up as a small smirk set in on his lips. “But I’m beginning to think you’re a bit too spoiled, brat.”

You laughed breathily, “I’m sorry, you just make it so hard to control myself.”

“Maybe I should start dealing out real punishments,” he mused, finishing up wiping you down.

“Oh?” you managed to tilt your head lazily, interest peaked. “Like what?”

“I don’t know, maybe make you start calling me captain, or something?” Levi inquired. His expression was completely serious.

“Captain?” you snorted. “Captain Levi? What kind of fantasies do you got swirling around in your head? Do you want to buy a boat or something?”

“You could be my little cadet,” he smirked, ignoring your teasing, returning the rag to your pussy with mischievous intentions, a bit too sensual. “My little bratty cadet.”

You closed your legs as much as you could with him in between them, a pout settled in on your face, “Why can’t I be a captain too? Better yet, what about your commander?”

“In your wildest dreams, brat.”

Levi stopped teasing you then, deciding your lower half was as clean as he could possibly get it without tossing you into the shower. Making another quick trip to the bathroom and back, he adjusted the pillows behind you, until they sat perfectly on the bed frame, and worked out the wrinkles in the duvet that had been half haphazardly thrown down and off the mattress to make way for your love making. Deeming everything perfect, Levi finally crawled into the bed beside you, where your eyelids were drooping heavily as you fought off legitimate sleep this time.

“I love you, Levi,” you murmured, burrowing your face into the crook of his neck to pepper a sweet, innocent kiss.

His hands gently cupped the back of your head, pulling you back and you pouted sleepily, “Oi, you know what you��re supposed to do. I’ll cuddle you when I’m done.”

You only nodded in a response, sleep catching up to your exhausted body. You only stirred when you felt the length of his fingers intertwined with yours, a small smile creeping up as you finally drifted off. Levi gazed at your expression in adoration, pushing back your hair from your face as your breathing softened. He would fight his own need for sleep for an hour, memorizing every crinkle of your beautiful face.

“I love you, so much,” Levi whispered, barely able to hear himself. “My beautiful angel.”

#levi x reader #levi ackerman #attack on titan #levi fic #levi smut #tw: ocd #shingeki no kyojin #levi fanfiction

487 notes · View notes

world-of-fire-and-flight · 2 years

Text

It’s been a long road to bringing Fire & Flight, the first book in my epic fantasy trilogy, the Heirs of Tenebris, to this point. While I’m super excited about Fire & Flight’s release day on July 19th, I’ve not only been humbled by this process but also overwhelmed by the outpouring of support from my friends and family. As we’re only a couple weeks away from the big day, I wanted to take a look back on the process I went through to write Fire and Flight. I hope that my experience—and the time it took—can encourage others in their writing, no matter how long it may take for your writing to come to life! Without further ado, this what my road to Fire & Flight looked like:

My young adult fantasy novel was born on the spot. I mean that literally, because my Creative Expressions teacher had me write a paragraph à la “stream of conscious,” and the first thing that came to my fingers as I typed, was the haphazard awakening of the girl who would become my protagonist, Nyla. I didn’t have a name yet either. There was only a girl with silver hair and lilac-colored eyes, and a forest.

Rolling with this first paragraph and developing the kingdom that would be called Tenebris, Fire and Flight slowly grew into the novel it is today. It would take years and many revisions to get here, but as the narrative of the Heirs of Tenebris grew, so did my dreams.

During the summer of 2017, I pushed hard to finish my first draft before the next school year. My Creative Expressions teacher showed a great interest in helping me through the editing process, and I can almost guarantee that some of my best pieces of writing advice were stolen from him. I not only finished draft one in August of 2017, but also my first complete read-through. That’s a feeling I’ll never forget, but it was also overwhelming! By the time I was done, all 49,359 words were bleeding in pink corrections (red pens are pretty scarce on my desk!), and my head was spinning.

What happened next? How was I supposed to edit this, especially when there were parts I knew were rushed or needed to be ironed out?

I decided to wait out the summer and shelved Fire & Flight until the school year had started again.In September 2017, my teacher and I were getting ready for the long haul. With both of us working on our respective novels, I learned what’s probably the hardest but most helpful editing tip of all time: rewrite or retype your entire first draft. As you create draft two, you revise and expand what’s already written in draft two, making it better than it was before. Drafts are meant to be an evolution, and so I found myself using draft one more as the outline for what draft two could be because I never did outline Fire & Flight. In doing so, my second draft became everything that draft one wasn’t. My story started to blossom, and I couldn’t wait to see it bloom.

2018 was a hard year to map for me, as it’s drowned in revisions and obsessive periodic read-throughs to make sure I was on track with the goals I’d set. Through this revision process, I realized not only had my style of writing changed throughout draft one as I grew as a writer and learned more techniques, but the perspective had changed too! Frustrated and disenchanted, I pretty much abandoned the progress I’d made and began what I’m going to call draft two-and-a-half.

By June 2019, I’d completed a major overhaul as well as my last check-point read-through of draft two-and-a-half so I could finish it by the end of the summer (spoiler: I didn’t finish by the end of that summer), and move onto the next stage.

When November of 2019 rolled around, I finally had my draft three, and my novel was nearly perfect. I still had some details I wanted to iron out and things that could be tweaked just a little more, but I couldn’t be prouder of how far Fire & Flight had come. From its measly 50,000 words to 127,625 words, all I had left to do was one “final” read-through to fix any remaining issues in early March of 2020.

I deemed Fire & Flight as “officially” finished on March 27th at 128,307 words.

It was around this time that I began looking at the different publishing options and the industry as a whole. While I’d researched literary agents and sent a few queries out, my heart wasn’t entirely in the process. The more I learned and the more I researched, the less compelled I was to pursue traditional publishing. Taking a bit of a break from Fire & Flight and the whole process, I opted to regroup and come up with a plan. It was then that I decided to self-publish Fire & Flight.

There were many reasons I decided to take Fire & Flight’s fate in my own hands, but I won’t get into that here, but know that I couldn’t be happier with this decision and am proud of the lengths I’ve traveled to bring my novel to this point!

From its short-circuited beginnings, Fire & Flight has grown so much from the novel I was writing between classes and in my free time, but I’ve also grown too. It’s been a long road for both of us—novel and author alike—and I can’t thank everyone enough for their overwhelming support throughout this journey. I can’t wait to share Fire and Flight with everyone this summer, or that this is the year I got to hold my book in my hands. And for all my fellow writers out there, I truly hope my experience reminds you that no matter how long it takes to tell your stories, it is never too long! Whatever your process and the time it may take, it’s just the perfect amount of time for it to come to life😉

#writeblr #writer life #writing process #indie author #my writing #behind the scenes of my writing #somebody pinch me #i still can't believe this is real that my book is a book now and release day is like two weeks away

21 notes · View notes

sylvie-writes · 3 years

Text

Dr. Husband

word count: 5278

pairing: doctor steve rogers x wife reader

warnings: talks about heat exhaustion? there’s nothing graphic, but if the hospital theme bothers you, then this isn’t the fic to read!

prompts (from @/fluffyomlette): “Your pulse is a little high. Is it because I’m holding your hand?” and “You’re not supposed to pick favourites, doc.” “Trust me, if I didn’t, you’d be dead by now.”

a/n: this just popped in my head about a month ago and i had to write it for no explainable reason. i really couldn’t think of a title oops. if you all have a better idea please tell me so i can change it lol.

please excuse any mistakes!

Summer was finally in full force, blazing sun rays beamed down on the dry ground and once gorgeous flowers drooped in dire need of water. Sounds of children playing outside, pool water splashing as a result of cannonballs, while lawnmowers whirled to life and laughter from the watching wives resounded this afternoon. In your neighborhood, it was tradition that the women would get together every other Saturday and have drinks in the cul-de-sac while their husbands had unsaid competitions of manicuring their yards. Unfortunately for you, your husband was a doctor and that meant little time for him to do the yard, and you didn’t have children at the moment that could go play with the others. The women who were your neighbors were a bit too picky choosy for your taste. They only seemed to bond over their children and sitting around home, two of which you didn’t have or do, so you weren’t ever truly invited to their day-drinking. It was actually fine with you as these people were so hot n’cold and you were just tired of trying to fit in with faux friends. You had plenty of true friends and then your husband who was a child of his own.

For three weekends so far, Steve had told you he’d cut the lawn and as much as you wanted to believe him, you knew that he was so exhausted from work and being on call a majority of the time, that he would never find the hours to do so. That was okay with you because what he did was important and you weren’t gonna be on his ass like the feds about the yard when you could easily do it yourself. It wasn’t like he was just sitting around, no, he was working so you just decided to cut the lawn yourself, something you’d done plenty of times before.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Unfortunately the day you chose to do so, the sun was out blazing and a simple walk out the door was a trip to an off-brand hell. Instead of making a wise decision and waiting to cut the grass in the evening, you chose the latter and decided to cut the grass at noon, the very time the sun was in full shine.

Dressed in attire for yard work and having already eaten a sandwich for lunch, you headed out the garage door to tackle the mess there in hopes of finding the push mower within. Steve’s father, Joseph, had given you both a lot of his lawn equipment, but the riding mower was broken at the moment and you (again) stupidly decided to push mow the almost two acre lawn. It took a good half hour to get the darned thing out on the driveway and while doing so, you noticed that your neighbors, the wives to be exact, had decided to come out for one of their occasional and somehow spontaneous get-togethers which consisted of unattended kids drawing with chalk as their mothers sat a few feet away dipping their feet in the small splash pool. You often found the idea both inventive and funny.

For only a second more did you let your attention linger on the group before returning back to fill the lawn mower with gasoline. After doing so, you tossed on a pair of sunglasses and went full steam ahead with cutting the grass, disregarding the rising, and very unsafe, temperature.

About an hour in, the temp had already risen to be above 100 and something no one should have spent any longer than half an hour in. Steve had always said you were stubborn at all the wrong times and boy was he right. You had just finished up half of the front yard and quarter of the back yard. It was mad that you were actually thinking about pushing mowing two acres, especially in this unruly weather.

You were so determined and when your mind was set on something, you let all other matters slip away, including regards for your own health. The unusual amount of sweat on your skin seemed to go unnoticed by you as well did the growing headache.

Finally, about half an hour later, more of the backyard was finished and your inner saboteur continued to influence your goals.

“Just finish this half and you will be close enough to the end,” translated into “Just finish the whole yard, you might as well since you are this close.”

This was the worst mindset to have, especially with the given circumstances as you had been out here for at least two hours, no drinks of any sort, no real breaks aside from fueling the lawn mower, and no cares to the worsening symptoms that now included noticeable dizziness.

The lawn mower eventually ran out of gas and you went to refill it once more. Making your way through the front yard, your unknown adrenaline rush came to an end along with the machine’s power. It wasn’t until your vision started to star and blur that you finally noticed your decline in health, but by then it was too late and you were on the plush and groomed grass of the front yard. Ironically, you noticed the fruits of your labor since you were currently laying on it.

Five minutes had passed since your drop to the ground and one of the ladies out in the court, Genevieve, noticed your figure, quite the contrast to the viridescent grass. Despite that she thought you were “demented” for cutting the grass yourself, she knew you weren’t unhinged, so to say, that you would just lay on the grass as it would serve no purpose to do so. She didn’t take you for a nature lover either so this was not normal.

Genevieve squatted down in the lawn, her sparkly sandals reflecting in the sea of green. Unknowing of what to do, the woman in a panic threw the back of her hand to your forehead and you burned hotter than a metal kettle. By time she stood, the other ladies had gathered around and were now circling in mass hysteria as if they were staring at a dead body and not your unconscious, yet breathing frame. Many long seconds later, Priscilla, who was Genevieve’s closest friend and who despised you as much as you did her, decided to call 911. The other moms then left to go usher their children away from what they described as a “traumatic experience” and back to their large homes for some sort of last minute luncheon.

Eventually, an ambulance arrived in your usually quiet neighborhood, something that was clearly displayed as almost every neighbor popped their heads out of their houses in sheer curiosity. Their nosey nature often bothered you but was normally put behind some sort of service act such as a baked cake or bottle of wine just to be invited into your house. You didn’t miss the way your neighbors would study your house when they were finally welcomed in. Steve was much better at hiding his cross nature and would return some compassion of his own while you struggled to bottle your annoyance and sealed it with a forced smile. As luck would have it though, you were knocked out and couldn’t give them a piece of your mind for staring because heavens know this would’ve been the last straw and no one could have stopped your rant.

It was when you were in the red wagon and being attended over by paramedics that you noticed you were on the way to somewhere that wasn’t home.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

At the hospital, the doctor and nurses hydrated you back to reality and suddenly you appeared in a bed, a doctor standing at the side with a clipboard in hand allowing your mind to draw up a million conclusions before you remembered what you had done last.

The doctor spoke a fast introduction and he then moved on to fill you in on what had happened as confusion still painted your face although when he told you Genevieve’s account of what led up to your ultimate passing out, you visibly cringed at such carelessness that ended up bringing you here. Hundreds of falls, burns, and bruises thanks to your clumsy nature, but this had to be the one thing to send you to the hospital. Some sort of twisted joke it sure was.

Moving to roll a stool to your bedside, the doctor passed you a cold bottle of water before bringing his eyes to give your IV a quick check as a nurse had put it in not too long before you awoke.

“Luckily, Mrs. Rogers, your neighbors found you in time and you only experienced severe heat exhaustion. Had you prolonged your exposure anymore you could have experienced a heat stroke. For now, I ask that you rest and I’ll come back to release you.” The doctor expressed his reassurance with a kind grin before walking out of the plain and boxy room that could make one go insane with its lack of liveliness.

Staring out the open doorway and into the empty hallway, you knew that Steve worked on this very floor, but honestly what were the chances that he’d see you? At one point he’d eventually find out about today’s mishaps, but that was a problem for later when you were more conscious and caring. Letting your worries temporarily go (something that was only happening thanks to your fatigued mind), you slightly shifted into a somewhat “comfortable” position on the stiff bed and rough cotton sheets. Albeit that there was an IV uncomfortably stuck in your arm, you fell into a much needed slumber.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Lunch break at last.

That was all that had been on Steve's mind for the past three hours which had been extremely hectic. Granted, he was used to this fast-paced workplace having worked here for almost a decade, but today was absolutely out of control with injured patients coming in left and right. It wasn’t some sort of bad omen, rather just an unlucky day for many Steve had assumed. He had just finished up with a pediatric case and was now on his way to enjoy the leftover baked chicken salsa that you had made just for him last night and packed for his lunch this morning. You knew how busy his week had been and you took the liberty to make his favorite dinner dish to compensate for the work that had left such a toll on him. A smile immediately overtook his face when he walked in the house last night and that’s when you decided that you would gladly cook anything he’d like over and over again just to see that look of adoration. As Steve held you in his arms at that moment, he kept thinking how he really didn’t deserve you and little did he know, the same thought ran in your own mind. Yet, in reality, you both went together like a puzzle piece to a puzzle. Without the piece, the picture would never be completed and without the other, you and Steve would have never enjoyed life to the fullest.

Strutting down the never ending hall, Steve passed many doors, some he had been in just a mere hour or two ago. As he walked past an open door and did a double take as he saw a patient asleep, but no sign of anyone else in the room. If he were that patient, he’d want the door shut for some privacy, something which the man highly valued, so he crossed the short distance and closed the door. He didn’t mean to look at the patient for so long as they weren’t in his care and that would be awfully creepy, but Steve could help but do a double take and noticed that the familiar face was, in fact, you. From first glance it didn’t even look like you and that was coming from the man who had studied your face just to commit it to his memory. In a loving way, of course.

He slowly walked in your room, taking in the image before him of you lying in a hospital bed. His mind had assumed that the worst thing had happened to you and for a moment, Steve’s breathing ceased and his legs were glued to the ground. As his eyes scanned over your body again, his fears were calmed when there were no visible wounds and you just seemed to be resting. Although as a doctor, he unfortunately knew anything could be possible.

Hunching over the top half of the bed, Steve smoothed your stray hairs away from your forehead and placed an awakening kiss there. You were a light sleeper a majority of the time and your spouse knew that this small action would wake, but not startle you. Every night he’d come home from work and do the same thing except then he knew you were safe and sound. Now, he was just filled with uncertainty.

“What happened?” Those were the only words he was able to get out and you gave him an answer, just not one that he was looking for. You were already getting defensive and he could sense it.

“Genevieve saw me pass out in the yard and overreacted, Steven. You know they all don’t exactly have good track records with medicine.” You rolled your eyes at the last statement remembering how your neighbors have often nonchalantly tried to get Steve to diagnose them when it came to something as simple as a scrape. Then again, all of your neighbors were in the business industry so that explained their lack of medical knowledge or at least that is the excuse you drew up for them.

“Nice try, (y/n), but you do have a medical chart and it’s over there,” Steve pointed over his shoulder and towards the doorway where a plastic chart holder sat mounted on the cream wall. “You didn’t just pass out, and the neighbors did not overreact. They did the right thing despite how much I know you hate that. Now, either you tell me the truth or I go read that file.” His tone was serious, but not condescending. Hidden in his eyes was a tad sprinkle of mischief.

Stubborn as ever, you didn’t respond and folded your arms over your chest in a form of defiance.

Against what is probably legal, Steve picked up your medical chart to read what had happened as you wouldn’t disclose the information to him. Your husband was a worry-wart sometimes and while you appreciated how he doctored you when you were sick, he could be a bit overbearing. A great example would be the time when you were cooking dinner and burned your forearm when taking the casserole out of the oven.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

“Babe, dinner is ready!”

The timer on the oven was currently beeping and you walked towards it. Turning off both the oven and the timer, you grabbed a short oven mitt and reached in to grab the casserole dish off the top rack. As you did so, you lifted your arm a bit too high and hit the side of your forearm on the interior roof of the oven. The temperature was ridiculously hot and the pain was immensely strong that you immediately pulled your arm back, the casserole long forgotten.

Steve came running in at your string of curses and came in to see you holding your arm and hissing a bit as if that would relieve the pain. He walked closer to you as you leaned up against the island. Your husband delicately took your arm in his hand, raking his eyes over the burn that was soon to blister.

After a short inspection, Steve placed his other hand on the small over your back and led you to the sink, flipping on the cold water and running it over your burn. Out of the corner of his eye, Steve could see you squeezing your own eyes shut in pain.

“I know, sweetheart, it hurts, I’m sorry.” He continued to rinse your scalded skin, but turned his head to sweetly kiss your temple.

A few minutes passed and Steve was content with the rinse job as you had finally opened your eyes, even engaging in some of your jokes that were always said at the wrong time. From the kitchen, the man guided you down the hallway, through your bedroom and into your joined bathroom. He sat you on the edge of the bathroom tub while rummaging through your unorganized medicine cabinet. It was barely ever touched and when it was, it was often in a state of panic hence the messiness of it. Fortunately, Steve found a tube of bacitracin and some cotton dressings from God knows how long ago. At this point he could care less and would rather have you cared for.

You curiously watched him as he dug through the cabinet and a loving smile grew on your face. How lucky were you to have this man. You were really appreciative of him in times like these especially.

Said man returned and crouched before you, distracting you from your thoughts as he softly grabbed your hand once more.

The doctor worked his magic and in no time was your arm wrapped up and lathered in ointment.

“Wow Doc, you did a great job.” Steve was still holding your hand as you quietly giggled in content. He placed a kiss on top of your knuckles and peered up at you with those gorgeous (and borderline seductive) sapphire eyes. Chuckling, Steve murmured against your skin, “Only for my favorite patient.”

As always, you decided to play along with Steve’s playful banter. “You’re not supposed to pick favorites, doc.”

Your husband knew your clumsy nature and seemed to have the perfect response, “Trust me, if I didn’t, you’d be dead by now.”

With your non-injured hand you went to hit his shoulder and he grabbed it in faux hurt.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

“You know, Dr. Rogers, that is a violation and I can actually report you for it.” You lifted your line of sight to see Steve who looked back at you with his lips pressed in a fine line. He shook his head disapprovingly after reaching the end of the report and now looked like he was going to sit back in the seat beside your bed.

“Hey, what are you doing? They already examined me and I am about to get released.” The man ignored you and instead leaned over the flimsy bed railing. Steve rubbed his hands together in a warming manner before placing two fingers on your next in an attempt to find your pulse. He unfortunately carried that common trait among doctors of having hands that were colder than that of a penguin’s ass. You knew very well this pulse check was useless as you were in conditional health and that he was probably doing this to annoy you.

“Well I like to do a check of my own. It never hurts to get a second opinion, darling.” Blue eyes squinted at you and you returned the patronizing gesture.

The free hand that was not on your neck had found its way to hold your own hand and when your husband pulled back, he wore a smug smirk on his lips.

“Your pulse is a little high. Is it because I’m holding your hand?”

“You know, your shoulders must hurt from carrying such a big head all the time.” Steve had the nerve to laugh at your elementary grade insult and even though you weren’t really mad, your face would have said otherwise to anyone else.

“So I’ll take that as a yes then, wifey.” He then quickly dropped to press a chaste kiss to your lips before releasing your hand and sitting down in the chair.

Looking to the clock on the wall, you focused your vision on the distant numbers to read that it was most likely Steve’s lunch break.

“Are you spending your lunch break with me?” Your tone was now sweet and soft as it usually was towards Steve and his heart leaped at the progress being made.

“It seems that I am. ‘Was really looking forward to that chicken salsa, though.” A heap of blonde hair rested on your hand that Steve had now laid his head against, still holding tight with both of his own hands. You giggled at his dramatics and ruffled a free hand through his greasy hair.

“I haven’t eaten anything, you think you could spend your lunch break with me?” His head popped up at this and his face held the eagerness of an energetic puppy.

“Of course, sweetheart. We can head to the cafeteria. Hopefully they have something good for my girl.” It was now your turn for your heart to swell at his words. Not even a second later though, the sentimental moment was replaced with Steve’s usual sarcastic humor.

“See, I love you so much that I am willing to sacrifice my precious chicken salsa just to have lunch with you. You should be grateful to have me as your husband.” Steve’s pearly whites beamed at you in a cheesy smile and you gave a dismissive wave of your hand.

The two of you talked and enjoyed the rare time together for the next ten minutes until Steve noticed you shifting to sit up against the pillows. He thought nothing of it until suddenly you were throwing your legs over the side of the bed and making to get out of the so called cotton prison.

Waving a finger, Steve tutted you and hurriedly scooped your legs back onto the bed. You looked absolutely peeved and Steve knew it was from the way that he was treating you like a child or better yet, a patient. His wife, the fighter and he, the doctor. Two unlikely personalities but ones that worked best together nonetheless. This made Steve laugh whenever he thought about it.

“You can get up the minute you get released by the doc, okay?” Caring eyes now gave you a pleading look and you felt a small tinge of guilt crawling up your chest at how mean you had been to your husband when he has only been trying to help.

A knock on the wooden door signaled a visit from the one person you had been waiting on for what seemed to be ages.

“Speak of the devil.” Muttering the phrase so only Steve could hear you gave him an “I told you so” kind of look.

The Doctor looked up from the same clipboard as earlier to greet you once he made it in through the doorway, but he was surely surprised by the figure sitting in the chair beside you.

“Oh Dr. Rogers, what a surprise! So this is your wife I presume? I guess I should have put two and two together,” Your doctor of the moment laughed with Steve who added in a chuckle or two of his own.

“Yep, this is Mrs. Rogers!” Steve didn’t look at you, but lovingly squeezed your hand that was resting against his, “We are quite the handful so I am surprised you couldn’t tell that she was my other half.” A snicker ended his words and you couldn’t help but do the same.

Once the short introductions were over, the doctor walked over to do a speedy final exam on what was necessary as Steve watched from the sidelines still getting used to the idea of not being the one doing the examination. He hadn’t been in any other position in the hospital for such a long time that it took some time to get used to the fact that he wasn’t the one diagnosing and rather waiting for the diagnosis.

The doctor pulled away from hovering over you and now sat back on his rolling leather stool, scooting his way over to the computer and desk.

“Well I must say, (y/n), that you definitely live up to some of the stories your husband tells.” The other man in the white coat finished up his typing before turning back around to face you and his colleague.

“Ah, I hope he’s giving me some good street cred,” You teased and from the side you saw Steve shaking his head and chuckling under his breath.

“I assure you that they were all good things.” With that, the doctor formally released you, walking out of the room to give you some time to redress and such.

You went to get out of the bed for the nth time, but finally succeeded. Your legs felt a bit wobbly upon the first step, and Steve noticed this. He came up to stand beside you and placed a hand on your lower back with the other out in front in case you did fall. Placing your own hand on his scrub clad chest to steady yourself, you silently thanked him with a tender pat.

With Steve’s guidance, you went to change out of the wretched paper gown and into your shorts and shirt from working outside. It wasn’t exactly the most flattering outfit but at this moment you could care less for the only thing on your mind was getting out of this room.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The ride in the elevator seemed to move slower than a snail and almost stopped on every floor. You were so crammed by the time you were only on the fifth floor that you used this as an excuse to lean up against Steve. He rubbed your arm and enveloped you in a side hug and planted a kiss on your head. The two of you never cared for PDA but neither of you had realized the onlooking eyes.

You found it mildly comedic when some of your fellow passengers seemed disgusted that a doctor was handling a patient in such a way. It was definitely gonna be a joke for later on.

Eventually you made it to the first floor and begrudgingly pushed yourself out of Steve’s warm embrace when the smell of garlic bread hit your nose.

“Huh, they never cook spaghetti around here. They must know we have a special guest today.” Steve pressed his lips against your ear to jokingly whisper to you as he ushered you out the elevator doors.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Standing in line with a plastic tray at the cafeteria made you have flashbacks to middle school lunch and you shuddered at the thought. The memories played back in your mind like a movie and were interrupted (much to your relief) when Steve tapped your shoulder.

“You want this?” Steve held one of the plastic salad containers in hand, the white sleeve of his lab coat draped on top of the other stacked bowls in the open air freezer.

You nodded and he placed it on your tray, slightly bumping your hips as he walked past to grab a drink.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

For a good twenty minutes, you and Steve sat in comfortable silence in one of the booths until clicking clogs came closer and closer. So close that a shadow loomed over your table conveying that someone was here to speak.

“Dr. Rogers, I don’t think it’s entirely wise of you to have lunch with your patient. Actually, it’s quite inappropriate.” The older woman in burgundy scrubs pointed her gaze to the hospital band on your wrist and both you and Steve started laughing upon noticing. So that explained all the weird looks.

“Oh no, Dr. Williams! This is my wife (y/n),” You politely beamed up at the woman and set out your hand for a handshake. At this, her unenthusiastic expression changed to one of apologetic and she shook your hand with much grief as Steve continued on with his introductions.

“(y/n), this is Dr. Williams. She is the medical director for my department.”

“Wow! I’ve heard many wonderful things about you, Dr. Williams.” She went to return the praise before a beeping in her coat pocket signaled the time for her departure.

“Duty calls, but I’ll have you know this one here never shuts up about you. It was nice to finally put a face to a name, (y/n),” You glanced at Steve and noticed he was sheepishly grinning and turning redder by the second. So much so that he was hiding his face in his palms.

““I hope you have a quick recovery as well, hon!” The standing woman gave you a nod of her head and then turned to your husband whose face had finally regained its color. “As for you Steven, I will see you later. You have another resident to deal with today.” Dr. Williams sighed at the thought, waving you both goodbye and soon enough she was out the double doors of the lunch room.

“Ooh babe you’ll have to tell me how all of that goes.” Spooning some spaghetti into your mouth, you goofily raised your eyebrows at Steve.

“Trust me, it is not fun at all. When I was a resident, I would have never acted like some of the people I’ve trained!”

You snorted, “Uh huh. Sureee.”

“No really,” Steve’s eyes widened and he leaned over the table like he was sharing some sort of secret with you, “The audacity of some of these people.”

“I think you are just an old man now, Stevie, and can’t keep up with the times.” The blond screwed up his eyes and stuck his tongue out at you.

“Oh hush and finish your food, Miss. ‘I am soooo young’.” A napkin flew at Steve’s chest and the two of you laughed at the childish antics that had just ensued.

Just as both of your styrofoam containers became empty, an unpleasant ringer sounded in Steve’s pocket, just like the one of Dr. Williams’s departure. Once he gave the screen a swift peek, he looked back up at you with a long face.

“You gotta go?” Golden strands bobbed up and down as Steve nodded and you grabbed his hand.

“It’s alright! Thank you for spending the time with me today, though. I really appreciate it. Thanks for putting up with me, you know how I am sometimes.”

The larger hand encompassing yours gave a sympathetic squeeze.

“Oh darling, anytime, you know that. If you need anything, call me okay? I will try my best to answer.”

The temporary silence that filled the room was now replaced by annoying buzzing from the device that Steve had silenced for the moment. He irritability took it out and shoved it back in his pocket. Normally this didn’t bother Steve because this was his job, but since you were here, having just been sick, he wanted nothing more than to drop everything and focus on you. Knowing that was impossible, he tried his best to juggle both yet it seemed that the world wasn’t gonna wait on him.

“Do you want me to call Ma to come get you? I’m sure she wouldn’t mind. Her and Dad love your company.” For the moment, Steve appeared to look like he was ignoring the constant beeping, but you knew internally he was already out of the cafeteria and sprinting down the halls.

“No no, I’m fine, honey,” The doctor stared at you as if he didn’t believe you. “I mean it, Steve. I am fine. Now shoo.”

Dr. Rogers shared another laugh with you before pecking your lips and running out the room shouting, “I’ll see you later!”

He really was too good for this world.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

a/n: i really enjoyed writing for doctor!steve, so if anyone has any ideas that involves him and that you’d like me to write, send it in! <3

taglist (is open!): @memissbee @tricereads @buckybarnesthehotshot @bval-1 @tonystankschild @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @turtoix @kelbabyblue @jakiki94 @aubreeskailynn @calirindo @lady-elena-adeline @siriuslyslyslytherin @sushiinmidnight @patzammit @iwik3it

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers headcanon #steve rogers x y/n #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans characters #doctor steve rogers #doctor steve rogers x wife reader

302 notes · View notes

mercurial-madhouse · 3 years

Text

Tips for Writing Multiple Fics at Once

"I always feel like there is this one little secret to writing multiple stories at the same time that just nobody is telling me about."

A fellow author made this comment in a writers’ group chat today. If you're a writer, chances are you have a folder of ideas waiting to be written. Writers are idea-generating machines. Maybe you even have stories started and set aside, begging you to Write me!.

If you write fanfiction, where shorter tales are constantly appealing to be started and a multiplicity of prompts and Fic Fests await you, that list of stories you're dying to write can grow taller than Jack's beanstalk. The answer for some authors? Write multiple fics at the same time! Why not?

I'd never consciously thought about my process before, but for anyone who is interested in having more than one story in the works at once, here are my thoughts compiled into something coherent.

CREATE AN OVERVIEW DOCUMENT. We try to use our brains to store everything, but the human mind isn't programmed like that. (All of us who have more than one fic in progress will joke about how terrible our memories are.) It's like only knowing how to juggle three balls but refusing to let go of the five balls you're planning on learning to juggle next. Set those fic-balls down. Turn each story into a physical or electronic sticky note, so to speak. Include as many or as few details as you want, but what’s important is that you can see them all at once. Here are some ideas: -Colour code your documents on Google Docs. Before writing, look at them all and ask the question above, making a conscious choice to write just one colour. Once that Google Doc is open, the others don't exist. -Have due dates? Compile a list of your stories by due date. Do you have to go with the earliest? No, but if dates are important to you, it could be helpful to sort it that way. -(Yoinked this technique from a beloved author of mine.) Compile a single bullet journal page each month with your entire story list. The six most important stories each have a checklist that includes things like due date and the status, such as: brainstormed, started, completed, edited, etc. The rest are just listed by title and due date. -Maybe you need a happy medium? How about an electronic document where you can see everything on one screen with the bare essentials: Title, summary, due date (if applicable), and your progress. (i.e. 15k/50k or 1/4 or even “HALFWAY THERE!”)

Have fun! By checking what you have in process each time you sit down to write, you're less likely to be concerned about forgetting an upcoming due date.

PICK ONE. Active, single-minded focus is important whether you have other stories waiting in the wings or not. Having multiple stories in process simply means that sitting down for a writing session includes an extra step, a question:

Which story am I going to focus on right now?

How you make that decision and for how long that choice stands is a topic for a different post. What's important here is that once you decide, you stick to it. All of your other stories do not exist while you are in this document.

STICK TO IT.

You may choose to write that one story for 10 minutes, 30 minutes, an hour, an entire day, or even until the draft is completed. But the biggest secret to writing multiple stories at once is... *drumroll please*

...not writing multiple stories at the same time. Truly. This may appear obvious, but hear me out. Take a look at your thoughts the next time you're writing: Are they always focused on the story in front of you? Probably not. No matter how many stories we have that are in process, we are never actively working on more than one at one time.

I can hear the questions flying now. What if I forget something in another story? What if I focus too long on this one and run out of time on another? What if I can't stop thinking about another story? What if I'm always having all these ideas for my other stories even when I'm working on one?

If an idea for another story barrels into your skull while writing, scribble it down in a notebook and set it aside for later. Can't stop thinking about a different story than the one you chose? Then turn your focus and give yourself some time to choose that one. Trust yourself.

THE TAKEAWAY.

This isn't a magical formula by any means. Ask any author who has several stories in progress and their practices will be different. Trial and error are your best friends for finding what works for you. Will it take practice? Yep. Extra work? Yep. A mindset shift? Probably. Dedication in order to keep your focus on one story? Yep. Is it impossible? Absolutely not! So even if you have fifty in-process stories, when you sit down to write, my recommendation is to know your options (overview), make your choice (Which story am I working on right now?), then stick to it (Write me!).

Have something else you’d like to chat about? I’m open to anything concerning the writing process. My goal is to keep writers writing by offering tips and tricks I’ve learned along the way.

You’ll find my Plotting vs. Pantsing fictalk here.

#writing tips #writing advice #writing thoughts #fictalk

101 notes · View notes

stargirlfics · 4 years

Note

i’m a literal whore for the shy!little x hard!dom dynamic, so i present: a shy!little whose been particualarly fussy as an result of her overwhelming school workload. she’s not been on her worst behavior, but henry’s getting fed up with the whining and fighting off a nap when he can see that she’s basically falling over, so one day, he comes over to her dorm unnanounced. he’s told her to take a nap, that he didn’t want to have a whiny baby for the rest of the night, and instead her dorms a mess and she’s up at her desk cursing something out quietly. she’s teetering over the edge of little space, but she’s still trying to be big. she has an essay to write, but her mind is so foggy with exhaustion and being little that she’s getting frustrated quickly and doesn’t hear henry come up behind her until his hands are on her shoulders spinning her around with a look similar to thunder storms.

“what do you thing you’re doing, little girl?” Her eyes dart towards the stuffed animals on her floor, thrown over the edge of her bed after a particularly restless night and a frustrating third class. “did i, or did i not, tell you to get your ass in bed?” his tone sends her spiraling into herself, glossy gaze growing thicker and bottom lip jutting out. she scrambles to shove her hands beneath her thighs, curling her toes into her feet and whimpering away from henry.

she doesn’t like loud noises, and she definitely doesn’t like when her daddy uses that tone with her. she’s never felt so shy before, but even when she’s bordering on big henry knows she can’t stomach a spanking, or a ‘stern talking to’ as he puts it. it riles her up and for hour afterwards she’s plagued with guilt and an anxious conscious— which to some extent is the goal of punishment, but his baby’s too sensitive, she’ll make herself sick before she even understands what bad behavior daddy was trying to correct.

“i’ve had enough of this, y/n.” no pet names, his scolding is completely void and warmth and it sems her into a frenzy of hardly fought back tears and whines. she wishes she had her stuffie now, but her favorite is lying on the floor tangled into her comforter. “up.”

her eyes widen, and she shakes her head. that always means a spanking. she can’t handle that right now, her focus is getting progressively harder to keep, and the harsher her daddy talks, the more she just wants to curl up and cry.

“if you didn’t want a time out you shouldn’t have disobeyed daddy, all, week.” henry drones, and though time out should have relaxed her, it only brought on a new set of tears and whines as her body was plucked from the swivel chair and shoved haphazardly into the dusty corner of the dorm.

she digs her foot down into the floor, head banging against the wall when she breaks. had her head not hit the wall so heavy, her knees would have buckled, but all of her weight is being supported by her strained and stretched neck as she wails. the walls are thin, she’s sure the next dorm over can hear her, but she’s lost all effort to care.

henry, though ultimately unphased by her fit, still approaches. he’s dealt with bratty littles, and perfect angles, and both bore him. you fall delicately in the middle, but today it seems a punishment is not going to straighten you out.

you see his hand lift, and you flinch away, body collapsing onto the floor in a tight ball. you’re crying harder now, frustration and anger and upset leaving you a tired little girl who doesn’t know if she wants to be alone, or be cuddled up tight to her daddy’s chest in a strawberry blanket swaddle.

“little one.” henry says softly, he’s going against his initial plan to just let her cry it out, maybe a nap on the floor while he tidies up her room will set her straight for the time being, but he can’t help but want to coddle his little. “if you don’t tell daddy what’s going on in that pretty little head, i can’t help you.” he stresses when she begins to chock on her tears, sobs no longer echoing.

shes slipped farther then she ever has, and words seem impossible to manage so she whines, and weakly throws her body into his legs while he towers over her. he lifts her up, taking only a single glance at her face to tell that she’s overtired and littler then he’s ever experienced with her.

“next time are you gonna listen to dada and go ni ni?” he scolds, patting a gentle rhythym onto her bottom. she still flinches away, hiding her face in his neck, but soon she relaxed and fussed when he lets her down to lay her expertly on her strawberry blanket. “let’s get you swaddled, petal. a nap should do you just the trick” - a

I’m soooo soft for this omg 🥺

Especially with Henry bc I definitely feel like he’d be that way with his Little, not phased but still firm with you and determined to get you to settle down and take a break cause he can see that you’re exhausted and trying to push yourself to finish your assignments even still

He knows your littlespace well enough to know you have a hard time voicing when you need help or when you need something or how you’re feeling so he’s expert at getting you to let him take care of you even if you fight him at first and throw tantrums

The detail about the strawberry blanket oh my gosh! I like to think he bought it for you to take with you to your dorm and it smells like him so when you’re not at his place you still feel close to him

Cryinggg bc he’d pick you up and lay you down on your bed, kissing you sweetly before getting you nice and tucked into it and then climbing into bed himself to hold you and help you drift to sleep

And when he feels confident you won’t wake up, he’ll leave you in bed to make some reminders for you for later that week in the form of sticky notes placed in different parts of your room and then making sure you have a juice box and some food when you wake up

Wow I’m in loveeeee, this was so cute!!!! Thanks for sending me this! 💕

#a anon #daddy!henry cavill x little!reader #daddy!henry x little!reader #henry cavill headcanons

412 notes · View notes

lightns881 · 4 years

Text

DTeam Tumblr Demographics Survey Results (Part 1):

The Gifted Child Syndrome is Real with this One...

*Rubs hands together in preparation for some juicy data and in-depth analysis of the typical member of the DTeam Tumblr community*

Ooooooooh boy! Here we go!

I want to start of by thanking you guys for over 400 responses to the demographics survey! Y’all have no idea how much I appreciate it! We have so much to cover, so I’m going to divide up different sections of the survey into several posts to make it more digestable and do justice to each topic explored in the form! We’re going to start of with, you guessed it, personality types!

Strap yourself in because we’re about to thoroughly dissect your sub-conscious innerworkings and find out how the typical DTeam Tumblr Fan thinks! (And judging by the majority personality types, you guys will probably enjoy it)

The Delicious Data

From the 449 responses we received, this is a pie chart displaying the personality types of all respondents.

Image Description: INFP (40.5%), INTP (15.1%), INFJ (8.9%), INTJ (8.9%), ISFP (6.9%), ENFP (4.2%), ISTP (4.0%), ENTP (3.8%), ESFP (1.6%), ISFJ (1.6%), ENTJ (1.3%), ENFJ (1.3%), ISTJ (1.1%), ESTP (0.4%), ESFJ (0.2%), ESTJ (0%)

In comparison, this is a pie chart displaying the personality type percentages of the population as a whole according to the MBTI website.

Image Description: ISTP (14%), ESFJ (12%), ISTJ (12%), ISFP (9%), ESTJ (9%), ESFP (8%) ENFP (8%), ISTP (5%), INFP (4%), ESTP (4%), INTP (3%), ENTP (3%), ENFJ (2%), INTJ (2%), ENTJ (2%), INFJ (1%)

I don’t know about you guys, but I’m sensing a tiny difference here... Oh, right!

INxx’s on the Loose!

It’s funny. When I first found one of the 18+ DTeam fan servers through Tumblr, I asked everyone what their personality type was. I was pleasantly surprised when a lot of them told me they were INFPs like me!

It actually reminded me of MatPat’s (Game Theory) survey for one of his Life Is Strange theories that found the majority personality there was also INFP...

Funny enough, can you guess what the second leading personality on that survey was? The third? The fourth?

You probably guessed it right. MatPat found that out of the fans who responded, the leading majority was INFP while INTPs came in second, INFJs came in third, and INTJs came in fourth. The exact order for the personality types in DTeam Tumblr.

But why is it that some of the rarer personalities of the world are dominating DTeam Tumblr or Game Theory’s fanbase? What is it about these communities that attract the rare introverted Intuitive Perceivers (INxP) and Intuitive Judgers (INxJ) of the world like magnets?

The Gifted Kid Syndrome

To answer this question, first we have to examine our leading personalities. As we can see from the data, INFPs and INTPs make up 55.6% and INFJs and INTJs make up 17.8% of the total respondents. That’s nearly 3/4′s of the DTeam Tumblr population made up of INxx types!

Now, here’s me calling y’all out.

A lot of you probably relate to the quiet kid sitting at the back of the classroom who’s put into some type of TAG, gifted program, or some authority figure has probably called you smart and/or “gifted” at some point in your life. Academics probably came easy to you at one point, maybe they still do.

You’ve probably felt your chest swell up at the shower of compliments about your intelligence and at another... you’ve probably felt like people put you in a pedestal and overrate you so you’re stuck with this inherent fear of failure, and it causes you to completely shut down when the things that came easy to you at one point no longer do so.

It’s gifted kid syndrome hitting you like a brick to the face. And if it hasn’t yet, oh you’re in for a surprise, honey.

And I’m sure many of you have come across funny, relatable posts like this:

And you want to know why most of you relate?

Image Description: INTP, INTJ, INFP, anf INFJ’s rate the highest in a giftedness per MBTI Type chart

No. You’re not hallucinating. It’s not even a joke at this point. It feels true because it probably is true.

(Granted, the study that captured similar results to this graph is long lost to the internet, but the best source I found with it was a reddit post I will be citing in the reblog.)

Now, my next point is where we find a split.

INFPs and INTPs and their Need to Question Everything (even if it’s about one sentence [insert creator here] said that one time during a 4-hour long stream)

The strongest connection I found between the two leading personalities of DTeam Tumblr is they share Extraverted Intuiting (Ne) as their auxiliary cognitive function.

I’ll use a quote that explains Ne better than I could ever explain it in my own words:

“Extraverted intuition or Ne is very much focused on patterns and making connections from information they gather... Ne dominant users enjoy being able to explore things in a much more open manner, not wanting to feel closed off to the possibilities around them... They are also highly imaginative people, who enjoy being able to come up with unique hobbies and experiences... They are not afraid of imagining things which seem almost impossible to others... [For INFPs,] Ne is what creates this detailed and incredible thoughts process which keeps them busy for long periods of time.”

And another:

“Auxiliary Ne manifests in people constantly questioning the world around them, but unlike ENxPs, they can be more pick and choose about this. But generally, they don’t take people, things and events at face value.“

Now, think about the community you’re in right now. Think about the post you’re reading at the moment.

DTeam Tumblr is full of over-analysis posts, whether about Dream and George’s secret love for each other or about the inherent problems with Dream’s shipbait and gay jokes or theories about what’s going to happen next in the dream SMP lore and the dramatic betrayals and creator’s descend into madness and more theories about sexuality and charts depicting creator’s personalities and what they’d be likely to do in different scenarios and... ooof, I’m out of breath here. You get my point.

DTeam Tumblr is literally a group of ex-gifted or gifted introverted people who love to read or write analysis, theory, and discussion posts about sweaty Minecraft Youtubers because they’re probably too overwhelmed by real life and find joy in obsessing over “dumb” things.

That’s it. That’s literally the post. I might as well end there.

But I won’t.

Because obsessions is exactly what I want to focus on next.

The Inherent Nature of the INFP and their “Micro-Obsessions”

This is me having a one-to-one conversation with all my INFPs reading this.

Do you sometimes just set your mind on a goal--like, let’s say, writing a book--and you spend so much time obsessing over it to the point where you burn out and suddenly it never sees the light of day because you move onto your next goal or obsession because now you’re getting ready to launch your freelance website so you can start a business on [insert new hobby here]?

Or do you just suddenly find a fandom or a show or a channel you really enjoy and you spend the next few months doing nothing but engaging with it and reading fanfiction and drawing fan art or making dumb analysis posts on your main Tumblr account where suddenly you get an influx of followers from that community and now people are expecting you to just post about MCYT!?

Oh, sorry, I got a little carried away at the end there...

Anyhow, my point is, do you ever develop an obsession over something all the sudden only for it to just disappear when you find something new or just fall into the deep crevices of your mind only for it to maybe reemerge a few years later after you get a deep sense of nostalgia remembering it?

I call them micro-obsessions. And I recently found out, I’m not the only one who does this!

Here’s another quote for you:

“According to Carl Jung’s theory of cognitive functions, when an INFP makes a decision, Ne comes in second to another process known as Introverted Feeling (Fi). Fi does not use logic to make a decision. It uses how we feel about the decision according to our values. In other words, it asks, “Which choice feels right for me?”

Ne, on the other hand, craves new ideas and experiences to explore, which causes INFPs to always be on the lookout for something novel.

Unfortunately, INFPs can get stuck in a loop, going back and forth between their Ne and Fi. They search to understand their values by constantly trying new things. They ask themselves, “Does this feel right?” then throw it over their shoulder as they move on to something else.”

So, you’re probably asking right about now, Light, how the heck does any of this have anything to do with the Dream Team and MCYT!?

Well, my friend, it has EVERYTHING to do with the Dream Team and MCYT and DTeam Tumblr as a whole.

Because INxx’s are predisposed to end up in places like this--fandoms on Tumblr, channels that speculate whether Mario is evil, watching dramatic Minecraft smp wars and elections as opposed to looking at the news that depicts Murphy’s Law as 2020′s new favorite epigram.

The introvert in them causes them to prefer socializing in small communities online where they’re not forced to engage in conversations if they don’t want to or put into uncomfortable situations where they have to talk to that one friend of their friend who wants to make meaningless small chat.

Their Intuition causes them to wonder into places like Tumblr where they can engage in deep discussions about their newest obsessions, and they won’t be judged for writing a 500+ word post about why Dream’s shipbait tactics are a genius algorithm strat or simping over sweaty Minecraft boys.

DTeam Tumblr is a safe haven for INFPs and INTPs who might be placed in the “other” category or marked as weird for being interested in “childish” entertainment or being different from the general population overall, whether that’d be sexuality, point of view, age, gender, etc. A place where you can fully be yourself and not have to worry about disappointing people.

INFPs are predisposed for drowning themselves in their micro-obsessions to avoid all of the madness in the world--even if that means giggling like a little girl while reading memes about your favorite Minecraft YouTube creators.

That is a deep-dive into the mind of a typical DTeam Tumblr user. What do you think? Is it accurate at all? Is it completely off? Let me know in the comments!

And with that, I digress. I’m not sure whether I’ll be covering general demographics next week or diving into the topic of ships (could be a mix of both), but I will be posting about it eventually, so make sure to hit the follow if you got to the end of this post and enjoyed it or learned something new from it!

Friendly reminder that this survey and post is in no way supposed to be taken 100% seriously. These are just the ramblings of a math major INFP with too much time on her hands and way too big of an obsession for MCYT. My asks are always open for literally anything, whether if you want to ask me about this or any DNF related subject, my own opinions, or just criticize the whole of this post and tell me it’s complete trash! I’ll answer as long as it’s appropriate!

And, again, thank you everyone who filled out the survey. Without y’all, this post wouldn’t be possible. I really enjoyed writing it! Adios!

#dteam #dteamblr #dttblr #mcyt #dreamwastaken #georgenotfound #sapnap #dreamnotfound #dnf #dream team #dream smp #dteamblr demographics survey #analysis

526 notes · View notes