I&'ve never had much of a "kinlist" in the first place, but even then "pruning" my& identity/labels list helped so much to clarify my& sense of self.
Like, for ages I& was stuck questioning that damn Joe Hills 'type, and keeping track of whatever the current flicker or parame was, just in case it was relevant to my& identity, far past it not mattering to me& anymore, because I& was scared of not capturing every single detail about myself&. If you relate to that, here's my& advice: get rid of that shit.
If it's a genuine and truly important aspect of your identity, it'll come back to you naturally. It'll feel wrong to deny yourself. And if it was just a false alarm, you'll see your true self much clearer without all the bloat.
It can feel satisfying to hoard, but think about whether you're keeping a list because it actually helps you, or because you just want to hoard.
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i think one of my biggest hurdles as a writer (especially original fiction, but it also affects my fanfiction) is that i have an incredibly American/British-centric idea of what Fiction Books are supposed to be like, even though my personal lived experience is tangential to those things at best.
(rambly weird personal essay under the cut lol)
when i was a kid, i mostly read Doctor Dolittle and Narnia books, and when i got older i read HP, Septimus Heap, Artemis Fowl, Fablehaven, Sherlock Holmes, etc.
pretty standard kid's fantasy/fiction (i mean not Holmes but y'know). it definitely informed what i thought Fiction was supposed to be, and all of it is incredibly Western.
i've wanted to be a fantasy author since i was really young, but i could never really get anywhere because i was trying to copy what i read. and the problem with that is...well, i'm Japanese American, but i grew up going back and forth between Hawaii and Japan.
i have no personal connection to the environments the books i loved grew out of, so copying it was impossible to do organically. i didn't have the background lived experience to seep naturally into my writing in order to recreate these atmospheres and cultures.
from the language, to the culture, to the ecosystems and climate, none of it was what i knew was right outside my window. i couldn't write what i knew, because as far as i knew, you just...weren't supposed to.
you weren't supposed to write about the tropics except as some distant hypothetical. you weren't supposed to mention jungles outside of metaphors. winter and snow was a given. you're not writing a fantasy book without winter, you fool. no one knows what a japan is. no one knows what a hawaii is either. no one knows you, you're not supposed to exist in these books.
i think part of that is what appealed to me, actually, in wanting escapism, but when it comes to writing, it's a big hurdle. i'm a lot more comfortable writing from my own experiences now, but i still find myself wanting to ape the style and aesthetics of what i loved growing up.
it really doesn't help that i hesitate to claim any singular cultural identity for myself because i don't feel like an authority on either. if you pressed me, i'd say i'm American, but i'm still so far removed from what 99% of America (as in, the mainland) is.
i don't think of deer or squirrels or redwoods or prairie dogs or blue jays when i think about the "America" i'm from. i think of centipedes and green sea turtles and peacocks and jackson chameleons and myna birds (most of those are nonnative to hawaii but they were what i saw commonly growing up)
so there's just a huge disconnect between What I Know and the stories i want to write. which is annoying, why don't i want to write more stories about the beautiful world i knew and grew up in? there's magic there. there's potential for fantasy and adventure there. of course there is.
but no. i keep trying to recreate Narnia, or draw on European folk and fae, because i feel like i have none of my own. nothing that's allowed to appear in print.
i once read half of Julie Kagawa's The Iron King. i only read half because i hated it, part of which is probably because i was just too old for it.
but the other part, when i think about it is...i picked that book initially because i read that the author grew up in Hawaii, and she's Japanese. not first gen like me, but i thought, hey, maybe she'll get it.
but The Iron King is like a weird Midsummer Night's Dream thing, it's very old-Europe-filtered-and-strained-through-centuries-of-American. it's very temperate zone. i saw no trace of home or kin in those words and i think that disappointment is what turned me off it so virulently.
i wonder if my writing is as empty when i use fairies and satyrs and other mainstays of Western fantasy. if it comes across as a string of hollow tropes; words and ideas copied without heart or belief or connection into a story simply because that's what you're supposed to use.
i wonder why i use those things.
(part of it is because i'm definitely not native hawaiian and would feel weird about just lifting stuff bc i don't know if it'd be disrespectful or not and would have to do research on it. at this point, fairies are public domain, but menehune...ehhh, i don't think so.)
i think it's because i have so many examples and blueprints to work off of if i take ideas from the mainstream. whatever i try to do using me and what i know, and what is real and home to me...i don't know how to do that. i've never been shown a way.
(part of that is definitely that i just need to read more but i have a hard time starting new media of any kind, especially books. and i'm super picky with books especially so it makes it worse, but urgh i'm trying)
anyway i'm only thinking about this because i realized that trying to design a character that is the embodiment of Deer in Summer Forest is really hard when i've only seen a deer irl a handful of times and all the colors and leaf shapes are wrong for deer when i think of a Summer Forest. i'm designing a god by peering through a cloudy stained glass window into a room that only exists through stories and words. i can make a heart but there's no blood in it.
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‧₊˚✧ ❛[ it's a gift (you keep those) ]❜
ft. logan howlett x f! reader — xmen, marvel
╰₊✧ giving him a plushie that reminded you of him┊1k words
setting: deadpool & wolverine (2024) worst! logan
contains: fluff, crushes, probably ooc but he’s so cute & wade is hard to write for, written for dp&w logan so idk if he got gifts in xmen, i forgot about laura, they are in touch and have a wonderful father-daughter relationship, i’m so sorry, edited
➤ author's note: i have so many thoughts but too incompetent to write
logan’s never sure who will appear when he opens the door as wade’s quite the extrovert, either vanessa or one of his many other friends whom he’s now become somewhat acquainted with, but he certainly wasn’t expecting to meet the familiar eyes of the cute neighbor who lived a few doors down. he nervously scratched the back of his head, suddenly becoming aware of his shabby appearance, “uh, are you looking for wade?”
“no, i was actually looking for you!” god, your smile is so bright, it’s blinding. he normally hates perfume of any sort as it’s so overpowering to his heightened senses, but the one that you wore smelled so lovely like always. is that a new shade of lip gloss you’re wearing? it really suits you. (why on earth is he noticing all of these details out of the blue? he needs to snap out of whatever spell you put on him after being introduced when he first showed up and only interacting in passing since then).
“looking for me?” he repeated, in disbelief, trying his best not to allow his surprise to slip into his voice. considering he isn’t from this dimension and not the most agreeable person to be around, he had no friends of his own yet and hasn’t been visited by anyone since he got here. a beat of panic struck him, thinking that he was in trouble for something and you came to complain. he really couldn’t think of any other reason you were here for him even though you were so cheerful.
you were carrying some shopping bags with you, dropping them on the ground before reaching into one and pulling out a large fuzzy plushie of a gray cat hidden under layers of glittery tissue paper, “i saw this cutie when i went shopping with my friends and thought it looked like you!” you held it out for him to take, looking so proud of the stuffed animal.
he hesitated for a second before accepting it, trying to take in the fact that you were reminded of him in your day-to-day life. it made his heart flutter, and he found himself dumbfounded by the feeling. he was frequently teased by his roomate about his little “crush” on you, claiming that it was oh so obvious and that the sooner he accepted it, the better, but he never realized until now how pathetic he was when it came to you. was the wolverine really getting butterflies like a fucking schoolgirl in his old-ass age? thank god no one was home right now to bully him about it, he would never hear the end of it.
“it does not look like me,” he scoffed playfully after a quick examination.
“no, it definitely does! it’s a big, grumpy kitty—” you took a step closer to hold it with him, pointing at all the similarities you observed, although it was clear you were exaggerating for laughs. “see the little frowny face and ears? it could be your identical twin separated from birth! willy mentioned that you act like a cat most of the time, and i think it fits perfectly!”
the smile he didn’t realize was plastered on his face faltered at the last piece of information, grateful that you didn’t notice. that idiot has been talking about him to you? he might as well forget about any chance of getting with you, because knowing how he yaps without a filter and loves to play matchmaker, you probably think he’s a freak of some sort. “only good things, i hope…”
you giggled, the sweetest sound he ever heard. “of course, he’s really fond of you… well, maybe a bit too fond, but you already know about that!” you opened your mouth to continue the conversation or say something else, but your phone started ringing and you excused yourself, looking a little shy as you grabbed up your bags. “i’ll talk to you later!” you sounded so excited about the prospect of it before leaving, your voice and footsteps becoming fainter as you walked back to your place.
“wait, you didn’t take back the cat—”
“it’s a gift! you keep those!”
“oh… right…”
he lingered for a moment, unable to say much in response since you left in such a rush. when was the last time someone gave him a present? staring at this brand new item, he still couldn’t see the resemblance in any way, but knowing that it was a gift from you gave him a rare feeling of happiness which returned every time he looked at it from then on among his few possessions.
“oh my goodness, what is this adorable thing?!” wade exclaimed when he saw it sitting on the couch where logan slept, picking it up to gawk at before tossing it up in the air and catching it before it hit the floor. “ooh, let me guess, it’s a gift from her, isn’t it?”
the mutant groaned at his mocking tone. “put it down before you ruin it with your grubby hands,” he commanded, snatching it from his grasp (rough enough to make his point clear, but carefully enough not to tear it apart). his roommate didn’t even bother pretending to be offended like he usually would as he was simply overjoyed that his “ship” was coming true. “it doesn’t mean anything, don’t make it weird.”
“it doesn’t mean anything?! how can you say that when it’s going to be the first gift you give to your first child together—”
“first what??”
“nevermind, what are you gonna name it?”
“i have to name it?”
“have you never owned a stuffed animal before? you have to name it! how heartbroken is she going to be when she asks what you named it and you say that you haven’t done that?! she’s gonna think that you don’t value her gifts!” you would think the world was going to end if he didn’t do so if you heard the way he was speaking.
“fine, i’ll name it…” he looked deeply into the toy’s soulless eyes, noting how soft the outer material was against his calloused hand, “... fluffy…”
“that’s such a shitty name—”
“shut the fuck up, it’s been decided.”
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not to beat a dead horse but it's so sad to see people act like gay and trans identities are very ultra specific with no wiggle room. it looks less like you have an expression and more like youre living a product demographic.
In the past, up through the 90s and even into the early 2000s, LGBT groups around the country (and world) had their own histories, their own terms, their own expressions, and the mainstream national "we're the good gays" product that politicians and corporations sell us has largely erased those. Lesbians were exploring gender and identifying as things other than "woman" as far back as the 70s if not sooner, many different groups had different terms that covered similar things, it just really sucks to see unique identities fade away as this Americanized approved LGBT narrative conquers the world.
You shouldn't care about bi lesbians, you shouldn't be having some bi vs pan war, you shouldn't be shitting on genders and pronouns you don't get, you should be living your life as your truest self and fucking who you want. Gotta stop letting Pride sponsored by Coors Light tell you who you are.
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