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canary3d-obsessed · 4 years

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Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 10 first part

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Palaver)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Meet the Hotties

Since there have been only 7 or 8 brutally hot men in this show so far, which is clearly not sufficient, this episode drops three fresh ones right from the jump. Meet true loves cultivation partners travel buddies SongXiao. The ethereal one, Xiao Xingchen...

The forceful one, Song Lan...

...and their nemesis Xue Yang.

Xue Yang has some Yin Metal...oh hai I just noticed, his name is Yang and he has Yin Metal. Which...probably doesn’t mean anything. When he first appears he’s so fey and over the top he could be taken for a comic relief character, except for all of the corpses he’s scattered around, and the one moment where he is caught off guard in the fight and looks genuinely angry.

Later, of course, we discover that he’s a fucking psycho an extremely complex person with a fascinating range of emotions, none of which are good.

Did OP make a fighting fanvid just for this charming asshole? She did. Spoiler: Hanguang Jun fucks him up. [Is OP a shameless self-linker? She is.]

(more after the cut!)

Not Everybody Was Kung Fu Fighting

Wei Wuxian tells Jiang Cheng not to join the fight but just to watch Xiao Xingchen’s moves; then he proceeds to join the fight by using his web shooter binding talisman to keep Xue Yang off guard and in the field of battle.

Do as I say, not as I do, bro.

It’s all right it’s all right it’s all right, Cocaine

Far from comic relief, Xue Yang is one of the strongest fighters in the show and is a master of his own variety of crafty tricks--the chemical variety. He launches a devastating white powder attack at our gang. His powder attacks later in the show will blind Song Lan and will poison the junior cultivators.

This powder attack does...nothing. Well okay then.

Fanmeet

After Xue Yang has been properly suspended tied up to a rafter, the cultivators introduce themselves, and Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng proceed to squee over their idols. Lan Wangji drops some flowery titles for both of them and offers to organize a mass donation of their brand of spring water.

Jiang Cheng is so happy he shows nearly all of his teeth without being angry.

Xue Yang butts in to harsh on their fandom and call them hypocrites. Can’t let the nerds have too good of a time.

Two Minutes in the out of the Closet

Now we have an interesting moment in which characters discuss queerness directly, albeit briefly. Wei Wuxian searches Xue Yang to see if he’s carrying the Yin Iron.

Most other instances in which queerness is lampshaded in CQL are about Lan Wangji’s discomfort, or growing comfort, with Wei Wuxian and his stripping flirting.

In this instance, Wei Wuxian fondles Xue Yang’s chest and ass while Xue Yang asks “what will people think about this M/M action?”

We Wuxian responds, for the whole room to hear, that he DGAF; in fact, he’s proud of being a disaster bi “cheeky.”

I don't give a damn 'Bout my reputation I've never been afraid of any Qi deviation An' I don't really care If ya think I'm strange I ain't gonna change An' I'm never gonna care 'Bout my bad reputation

While Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes, Lan Wangji takes note.

Clan with a Plan

Nie Huaisang and his entourage arrive, and once again the Netflix subtitles take away the meaning of his words as he calls out for Wei-Xiong, Lan-Xiong, and Jiang-Xiong; Netflix has him using surnames only, like an English public school lad.

The group decides to send Xue Yang to Nie Mingjue for judgement. Meng Yao invites them all to come hang with Nie Mingjue at the Unclean Realm, to decide how to best fuck up the Wen clan.

Note: “Unclean” seems to be an accurate translation but it has particular connotations for western audiences who grew up steeped in the Bible or Monty Python. Like, “would you like to come to the plague castle?” type of connotations.

Meng Yao: Can you all come with me? I’ve got another hot man to add to this episode.

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian look deeply into each other’s eyes in order to decide if they’re going to go to Unclean Realm with the Nie gang , and they opt yes.

SongXiao do the same thing and opt no, with a speech about how the clans are a bunch of eugenicist snobs, or words to that effect.

This speech convinces Wei Wuxian to immediately join their fan club. He is...really not cut out for clan life.

Night Swimming Hunting

September's coming soon I'm pining for the moon And what if there were two Side by side in orbit Around the fairest sun?

Wei Wuxian praises SongXiao for their egalitarian values, and compares himself and Lan Wangji to them, giving Lan Wangji one of his sweetest, warmest smiles.

This moment is clearly embarrassing to Lan Wangji, but most things are embarrassing to Lan Wangji, and unlike the “shut up!” moment in Episode 09, this time it doesn’t make him angry, barely earning a tiny glare.

It’s different this time for Wei Wuxian as well, because he’s not teasing or being provocative; he’s genuinely moved to tell this roomful of people that he cherishes Lan Wangji.

It does make Jiang Cheng angry, and he tells Wei Wuxian, not for the first time, that because of his attachment to Lan Wangji, he should not come home.

This is a standard jealous response from Jiang Cheng, and he doesn’t mean it...yet. But there’s a direct line between each of these false banishments, and the moment when he actually does banish the two of them from the Jiang family shrine.

Baoshan Sanren

Wei Wuxian quickly goes from being cheerfully aflutter over these kindred spirits, to being stunned and even devastated when he discovers an unexpected family connection.

Xiao Xingchen: My grand master is Baoshan Sanren

For once Lan Wangji doesn’t seem all that attuned to WWX’s feelings, while Jiang Chang super is.

Jiang Cheng: Should I say something? Words? About feelings? Yeah no.

Outside of the compound, Xiao Xingchen and Wei Wuxian talk about WWX’s mother. In this moment we see how kind Xiao Xingchen is, when he carefully softens the blow of his revelation that Baoshan Sanren is not accepting students or visitors or new patients at this time or at any time.

I hope that finding Baoshan Sanren is what Wei Wuxian did with his solo road trip at the end of Episode 50.

XXC and WWX acknowledge their clan relationship, which takes Wei Wuxian another step away from his membership in the Jiang clan, and creates a filial obligation to his newfound shishu that he will fulfill much later, in Yi City.

Once again Jiang Cheng sees and understands Wei Wuxian’s pain, and gazes at him with love and concern, but he doesn’t reach out or speak. They are not a reaching out & speaking pair of people. Once we see their whole family together, we will understand why.

Farewell to SongXiao

When SongXiao hit the road, Lan Wangji watches them with a look of pure yearning, and then turns that look, with total openness, to Wei Wuxian.

Lan Wangji: Ow

The open road and the chivalrous path pull equally at both WWX and LWJ, but Lan Wangji lives under a weight of formal obligation that he will carry for his entire life. During WWX’s second life he will find ways to compromise between the forces that are pulling him, but not escape them.

Wei Wuxian’s obligations are just as heavy, eventually costing him his family and his life, but they are dictated only by his heart and conscience. Yet he never suggests that Lan Wangji should follow his path. He constantly insists on LWJ’s attention, but he accepts that their roads are different, which is part of what makes Lan Wangji’s declaration on the Carp Tower steps so touching; he is giving Wei Wuxian something he never, ever asked for.

Here, WWX acknowledges both of their sorrows with a nod, and they walk away together to play their parts in the coming war.

Keep an Eye on the Psycho

Nie Huaisang sighs in admiration of the departing hotties, while Xue Yang tells Xiao Xingchen not to forget him. Which is very, very, very good advice.

Meng Yao is put in charge of guarding Xue Yang. I hope that doesn’t awaken anything in him.

Soundtrack: 1. Joan Jett, Bad Reputation 2. REM, Night Swimming 3. INXS, Devil inside

Smut Prompt: If the story of Wei Wuxian searching Xue Yang does get out among the clans, what will it have morphed into by the time Clan Leader Yao hears it?

#fytheuntamed #the untamed #wangxian #songxiao #the untamed meta #the untamed gifs #restless rewatch the untamed #my gifs #canary3d-original #the untamed spoilers

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thoughts-on-bangtan · 3 years

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Let’s talk: Grievances and Cuteness - BTS on You Quiz on the Block

by Admin 1

Today BTS were guests on You Quiz on the Block, a very popular Korean variety show on tvN, and it was a wonderful mix of fun and hilarious, but also serious, vulnerable and honest. Seeing as we don’t have subtitles yet, merely the things our marvelous translator ARMYs managed to translate for us—the episode was 100 minutes long so there was a lot going on and being said—I don’t want to get into detail in this post and instead will wait with that until we have subs and I’ll be able to sit down and watch it properly again, focus on things that stick out to me and I would want to talk about. So that I can do their words justice.

Instead I want to use this post to air some of my grievances, directed at fellow ARMY, “ARMY” and shippers, as well as just gush a little about a few cute moments. The more serious things will be in a different post sometime soon. I hope that’s okay.

Grievances

What is the point of Bangtan going on a show like this, especially one that is broadcast on national TV and very popular with the general public? It’s to share not only their funny side but also their honest and genuine one, share stories that, though some we’ve heard before as ARMY, they’re things the general public doesn’t necessarily know. The point of them sharing vulnerable moments and memories with us is to simply be honest and transparent, something they’ve always highlighted as important to them.

What is the part we play in this, what is it that we should do? We are simply supposed to listen, understand the things they are telling us, put things into perspective so we know what they felt in certain moments and periods of their lives, understand that they’re human too with struggles, fears and sadness, and we should cherish the fact that they tell us any of it at all. They could just as well only show up whenever there’s a new album and comeback and then disappear again, share nothing personal at all and put on entirely fake personas. But they don’t. And we should be grateful for that and happy because of it.

Now, the reason why I even wanted to write this in the first place is this:

Many, and I mean many have decided that instead of doing what I’ve highlighted a moment ago, a far better course of action would be to twist their words, manipulate them, use them to victimize the members (and especially Seokjin), and try to overanalyze them in favor of their desired narratives and especially their ships, even if whatever was being said had absolutely nothing to do with any ship at all.

Before the episode even finished airing, solos/mantis were already up in arms “crying” about mistreatment and victimizing Seokjin because *insert demands they have no right to make at all* and when Seokjin, bless him, was on weverse, he actually replied to a post where he basically said that parts of what he said were too sad/depressing, so he simply asked the You Quiz staff to cut them out, which would explain why he seemed to have “less to say” during his interview section with Yoongi. Did that help? Of course not. Even though it showed not only that he did say more, that he likely said more vulnerable things, but also that he made the decision for himself that he did not want to share that yet, because he’s not ready for it or because he came to the conclusion that he simply doesn’t want to period, and that his wish for them to cut it out was met. Even though it wasn’t BH controlled content, but You Quiz.

More below the cut:

What does this tell us? The members have control over what is aired and what is not. If they feel something is too personal or would come across wrong, they can voice objection and chances are their words will be met and followed. They aren’t victims in need of saving, aren’t helpless boys with no idea what they’re doing. They are serious musicians, respected and treated well. This is a good thing and I’m glad he told us that, even if many don’t want to hear it and immediately claimed that “oh yeah BH told him to shut us up”. The mental gymnastics some are willing to do to make things fit their agenda truly baffles me sometimes.

On the other hand, I’ve seen shippers try to twist words or put others into the members mouths to push their agenda, and we’ve even had one or two asks being sent to us basically sadly wondering if maybe Tae isn’t who we thought he is for Jimin, and neither is Hobi, because of something Jimin said. Even though the thing Jimin said had quite literally nothing to do with either Tae or Hobi. In a way, I get where such vminnies are coming from, as vminnies we would love to just hear vmin talk about each other all day because it’s cute and we love their bond and stories, but it’s not like we didn’t get that. Because we did. Unprompted. Jimin mentioned Tae during their trio interview and told a story, even if we’ve heard it before to a certain degree. And yet it still wasn’t enough? Like come on, please don’t do this. Don’t reduce everything the members do and say to just ship related and non-ship related (thus uninteresting) statements and actions, as though the latter is worth less.

Here is the moment in question:

The way I see it, the only thing we should take away from this is that despite these very human fears and struggles, wonderings if people only care about Jimin because he is BTS Jimin and not Park Jimin, he still had and has good people in his life that’ll remind him that he is appreciated and loved for who he is, and not just for his celebrity status. Friends even outside of Bangtan. Why do we have to take something so incredibly personal, this moment of vulnerability from Jimin, and try to overanalyze it? To twist it to fit a ship? Regardless which one. Or to twist it to fit some kind of narrative, whatever one it may be? Please don’t do that.

Sure, Admin 2 noticed his use of ‘chingu’ when talking about this friend that told him that, and sure it reminded me of what Jimin said to Tae in the FESTA 2020 Rolling Paper, but neither Admin 2 nor I will go and claim that oh he must’ve been talking about Tae but didn’t want to use his name to avoid XYZ because we are not in his head and, at the end of the day, it’s irrelevant who exactly said that to him. That wasn’t the point of that story. Like at all. So why are some people disregarding the point in favor of speculations? Why are some completely ignoring his words, downplaying them as just potential ship material instead of appreciating the fact that he told us that at all?

It’s unfair toward Jimin, and the other members as well when they tell similar stories. Their lives aren’t fictional stories that revolve around romance. They are real people with real lives and more friends than just their fellow members and that’s a good thing since it surely gives them the opportunity to feel less isolated, cut off from the world by nature of their occupation and status. Besides, in the past Tae said something similar as well, how he used to be a social butterfly and make friends easily wherever they went but eventually he understood that people didn’t really care about Kim Taehyung and instead just wanted to know BTS V and be able to use that to brag, so he stopped being so outgoing. And we’ve also seen Jimin talk about cutting out friends in the past if they said something negative about Bangtan, then, a few years later, saying that he’s grown more as a person and learned to not allow these things to affect him as much, to surround himself with genuine people.

So, in light of what he said in that segment, we should be happy for him. And that’s it.

We also saw people use what Tae said about his dad to push the he must be 100% heterosexual because he said he wants to be a dad narrative which, where do I even start. Perhaps with the fact that this statement relies on a mistranslation? Because he didn’t say he wants to be a dad but that he wants to be a person like his dad, that’s his dream. Perhaps with the blatant homophobia this statement is laced in? The disregard for how queer people can also want to have kids, be parents, just like anyone else? Perhaps with how these things oddly seem to just be done to Tae and Namjoon, and especially Tae to use it for ship purposes?

Instead of jumping to conclusions, overanalyzing stories we are not supposed to analyze but instead to simply appreciate, please wait until we’ll have the full episode with subtitles (even though from the past we know that some of it may be simplified so reading what our translators wrote is also a good thing to get the whole picture) and even then, just enjoy their silliness and listen to their words of honesty. Listen to the fact that their fame was and continues to be a heavy weight on their shoulders, how instead of becoming cocky assholes they remained humble and genuine because that’s the kind of people they are and want to be, listen to what they want you to hear and now what you want to hear.

Also, to shippers—this isn’t the place to look for ship content of any kind, for some romantic confessions or whatever, because this was about Bangtan as seven members and their stories of the last ten and a half years since Namjoon joined BH and the idea for BTS was started.

Cute and silly things

Now that that's done, let’s talk about some fun and cute things to lighten the mood, shall we?

One of my favorite moments was when the MIC DROP ARMY came in as a surprise for the members, her confidence was off the charts and the guys looked so genuinely happy. After all it’s been so many months since they’ve last seen ARMY! And I’m so glad she was such a wonderful representative for us all, how she didn’t react with fear or shyness, didn’t scream or cry, but instead did her thing like a Queen. And the way the members reacted when she sent them a finger heart during one of the dances? Absolutely adorable!

Also, she truly must’ve saved some kind of nation, or maybe two, in her past life since she also was gifted a chicken leg pillow by Tae. He’s just so kind and lovely.

Then we had the members play a game of trying to guess a song merely by the first second (I think) and then having to sing it, though who sang which part didn’t follow the actual order in the song but was chosen by someone off screen which meant that, for example, Tae was doing one of the rap line verses as well as singing Jimin’s part in another, Hobi showed off his vocal skills, and of course, the highlight, Namjoon singing a part from Spring Day. Even though we know Namjoon’s skills when it comes to singing are not the greatest, which I mean in a very loving way, no tea no shade, and yet he still went for it. It was hilarious and cute and showed that he is willing to be silly even if others might laugh at his expense.

Sometime after the episode aired Namjoon actually came onto Weverse to talk about the episode and, among other things, apologized for not singing Seokjin’s guide all that well. One thing I’d like to point out is how, originally, he wrote Jinhyung but then changed it to Seokjinie hyung, which is just a small and precious little detail:

Another cute moment was during ‘dance mafia’ when Tae turned to Jimin to ask him if they did well and Jimin replied that yes, he did well (both using this adorably soft tone with each other), they also hugged for a moment while smiling brightly. See, I said not to look for ship moments, but this is just cute regardless if you ship vmin or not. Admin 2 though would like to comment on how they could’ve given us that hug from a camera that’s a little further away so we could have a more proper look, or a longer shot of it, please?

Honestly that game was hilarious and the members who were mafia did a wonderful job tricking the others, particularly JK was fantastic at it since the second time around no one suspected him at all. Also, the fluffy ear muffs with cat (?) ears on them were adorable. At the end of the segment they were all supposed to strike a pose but Tae didn’t manage to put his ear muffs back on, so they fell to the ground and so Jimin lightly hit/caressed his chest and turned toward the MCs to ask if they could try again so that Tae could look good in it as well.

Actually, speaking of adorable in regard to Jimin, when they were introduced at the beginning of the show as RM-jagi-nim, jagi-nim being the name used for all the guests on the show and also the name on the necklace (given to guests who are fans of the show by the producers) Jimin showed off on weverse in his selcas, Jimin corrected the MC that it’s not Jimin-jagi-nim but Mini-jagi-nim which just…my heart. Too cute.

Lastly, I want to mention how all of them were asked what the first sentence would be if their lives were a book and their answers were just so very…them.

Namjoon: Predictions in life often turn out to be wrong

Tae: I’m a chameleon

Hobi: Dear, people who’ve helped to lead me here

Yoongi: You lived life to the fullest/hard/well

Seokjin: Dope, worldwide class!

Jimin: What kind of life do you want to live?

Jungkook: Hello?

Overall it was an amazing episode that was so fun to watch even without really being able to understand any of what was being said. Still the members genuine personalities shone through brightly and I’m glad they had fun and felt comfortable, especially since it’s been a while since they were last on Korean variety shows and some of their past experiences were…not great. I can’t wait to watch it again once we have subs and to write a more proper post about it then. I hope you didn’t mind this more…serious and “angry” post and understand where I’m coming from with my complaints, but also that you enjoyed the cute moments I highlighted.

#BTS #BTS You quiz on the block #Namjoon #Seokjin #Yoongi #Hoseok #Jimin #Taehyung #Jungkook #vmin

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kingofthewilderwest · 4 years

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What's amatonormativity??

I’d encourage you to go to Google or check out tumblr tags and posts on amatonormativity to learn more!

Amatonormativity is the internalized cultural mindset that romance is default and central. It especially conceives of romance as the single most important relationship in someone’s life, to the point it should be focused upon and sought out above any other bond. It treats romance like the universal ultimate solution to any of our emotional bond problems (loneliness, intimacy, trust, support, longevity of relationships, etc.). Amatonormativity is heavily ingrained in many societies, like the mindset I find in people in the United States.

Of course romance isn’t a bad life experience! For many people, it can bring great joy. When people criticize amatonormativity, people aren’t criticizing that romance can be a great thing in someone’s life. The problem with amatonormativity is that it treats romance as the ULTIMATE thing, the ONE solution to our need for emotional fulfillment.

It’s important to understand that amatonormativity has profound negative side effects, whether you’re allo or aro, whether you’re queer or straight, and whatever gender you are. Society takes a lot of things for granted regarding romance and this can stunt our happiness. It stunts our ability to bond with other people around us or find satisfaction within our lives.

Amatonormativity underlies emotionally stunting assumptions like..... (disclaimer... I will often use language defaulting to the Western cishet perspective, because that’s the mindset of my broader society... I myself am an aroace enby and have more nuanced understandings of gender, gender expression, gender roles, sexual attraction and identity, romantic attraction and identity, etc.)

Automatically assuming that just because a man talks to a woman, the interaction MUST be romantic in nature (this of course intertwines with heteronormativity -- many of my points will intertwine with heteronormativity). It assumes there’s no such thing as “just friends” between people of “opposite” genders. This in turn can result in us losing opportunities to bond to, understand, or properly respect... literally half the human population.

Treating friendships as secondary. Treating friendships as temporary. Treating friendships as more replaceable than romance. Treating friendships as less “deep” and important to our time than romance, even a romance you started two days ago with someone you met last week. By doing this, we lose the chance to grow deeper with someone near us. It limits the potential by which we can bond with another human soul and find happiness.

The belief we are unlovable and not worth anything because we can’t find a romantic partner. I don’t know how many times I’ve seen people disregard their own worth because of this, and it makes me deeply sad. The truth is that our worth is not at all tied to whether we have a romantic partner. We can be so deeply loved and cherished in all sorts of relationships. Of course it’s still valid if you feel single blues because you want a romantic partner, but tying the concept into “I am worthless OR I’m dating” clearly is an emotionally harmful concept. It can result in everything down to hooking up in a relationship that you aren’t ready for or don’t like as much as you pretend you do.

The belief that we are utterly alone without a romantic partner. I notice this often ties into the amatonormative belief that we can only get good physical touch, trust, emotional and physical intimacy, etc. through a romantic partner. I feel this mindset is especially pronounced in cishet men, since USA culture treats masculinity as lacking outwardly expressed vulnerability, and ergo you might not be getting your emotional needs met through your platonic and familial relations. The one “accepted” way of getting your emotional needs met comes through The Girlfriend / Wife. This belief prevents us from reaching out and finding support through other people in our lives. We can find love and comfort in friends. We can confide about our emotional struggles and find relational intimacy (great trust!) through familial and platonic bonds. Hugs, snuggling, other acts of physical affection are what humans need, and don’t need to be relegated to One Person Only. Plus... if we assume that our emotional struggles should be fulfilled by One Person Only... that puts enormous pressure on that partner to provide for everything. No one’s that strong. We need support networks, not one designated “save me” individual. It’s pure unhealthiness to mount burdens only on one person, and bottle yourself up otherwise. I often see this fallacy pop up when people start a new romantic relationship. You might barely know the person, and yet you’re trying to rely on them for everything, and you’re trying to be the person they’ll rely on for everything. You dive deep into the expectations before you really know how to handle it, and in the process become psychologically overwhelmed because of the Huge Responsibilities this role seems to entail. Being in a romance doesn’t automatically mean you’ve reached peak intimacy! Note: it’s not to say that romance can’t be a major avenue of security. Of course it’s a great way to fulfill intimacy, trust, physical needs, etc. Of course it can become a bond full of loyalty. But romance is actually like any other relationship... a familial relation can be weak or it can be strong, a platonic relation can be weak or it can be strong, and a romantic bond can be weak or it can be strong. The fallacy is that we are treating romance as *THE* way to fulfill all these diverse emotional problems, socking it onto one individual when it might be beyond their single load to bear, and then not seeking out help from the other sources that are around us.

The belief that the only person you can live with is a romantic partner. Living with non-romantic roommates (aka living with friends) is seen as an undesirable inconvenience and something you only do temporarily because you financially have to. It’s seen as an immature youthful thing rather than something an established adult might do. Living with friends long-term out of chosen happiness is not something that crosses the mind of many people... it’s assumed you’ll either move out to live on your own, or marry and go and live with your partner.

The belief that adulthood progresses through a very specific sequence of events. You go to school. You leave on your own. You marry. You get a house. You have kids. There’s a reason it’s common for family to nag you “When are you going to get married? When are you going to get married?” Because clearly you haven’t made an important step of adulthood, an important step in life, unless you get married. I’ve noticed that for many of my friends, even those who are comfortable with the life choice to not get married... they express they don’t feel “as adult” as their married peers. And many people in society won’t treat them “as adult.”

Harmful beliefs downplaying spousal abuse, like those people who try to argue “you can’t rape your wife / husband / spouse / girlfriend / boyfriend / significant enby / significant dumbass. That’s not what rape means.” Because a sexual-romance is the GOOD thing, right?

AND MUCH MUCH MUCH MUCH MORE!!!

Some people of course have a better handle on their relationships than others. Some people are better at ignoring what society considers most important or most default. Some of what I’ve said above is when these beliefs are treated to their utmost, rather than what some people will do (lots of people have close “besties”, for instance). But amatonormativity+heteronormativity creeps in everywhere in society.

It’s the reason why, in most Hollywood movies, the protagonist is a man and the main actress is his romantic partner. It’s the reason why these two characters might start a steamy romance even before they know each other well; who needs to write ACTUAL understanding between the two characters when they obviously are going to fall in love and fuck?

It’s the reason why advertisements are so sex-oriented (reminder note: society usually doesn’t distinguish sexual and romantic bonds). Advertisements try to make their product appealing by associating it to romance, the Ultimate Desirable. Here’s how to make you look hot so you can attract someone in a romantic-sexual relationship, because THAT’S the ultimate goal of life, right?

It’s embedded in linguistic expressions. If someone asks if you’re dating, you respond, “No, she’s only a friend.” Or. “No. We’re just friends.” Friendship is being treated as lesser. Breakups are treated as inevitably bad even if you choose to be friends afterwards -- because clearly being friends is “taking a step back”, right? Even the word “break up” -- oooo that’s bad sounding! (There have been multiple times I’ve ended romantic relationships where I’ve turned the phraseology on the head and told them it’s a step forward to better, happier, healthier, stronger bonds... and they had to think it through, because amatonormative society forgets this can be the case.) “Friendzoning” is seen as a crime in part because you’re not going to be as intimate with someone as you want to be... despite the fact that having a non-romantic and/or non-sexual relationship with someone could be JUST as meaningful and deep!

I’ve FREQUENTLY seen church study groups that offer only these options: young adult small groups, women’s small groups, men’s small groups, and married couple’s small groups. Because clearly the only “mixed” gender situations out there are when you’re too young to be married, or you’re married.

And frankly, I think it’s one of the reasons why fandom likes to play hook-up with all the characters. Shipping is SO much fun! I love shipping! This is not a comment against the act of shipping! But if everyone needs a romantic partner to be happy...... mmmmm.... yeah let’s rethink what the underlying assumption is here. It’s that default assumption that “romance=happiness, romance=ultimate goal, romance=happily ever after, friendship=lesser.” If two characters in a show don’t canonically hook up, fans can get angry... even if the relationship showed on screen is one with a lot of trust, loyalty, happiness, and intimacy.

I am aroace. I don’t know how many other friends in the aro and/or ace community have talked about how lonely and unhappy they feel, because all their friends around them are looking for sex and romance and ergo don’t treat their friendship deep enough for my friends to get their emotional needs met. It’s easy to feel left out in a world where everyone is looking for romance, and ergo you are never the bond they want to pursue.

There are many ways in which we can achieve close bonds with people. This is why I think it’s important to talk about amatonormativity. Again, I’m SO happy when my friends are happy in a good romance. That’s a good thing!!! But it’s so psychologically destructive, whether you’re aro or allo, to live in a world where romance is considered The One And Only Key to relational happiness.

Talking about amatonormativity has the goal of helping us be aware about how society idolizes romance and/or sex. The goal is to help everyone know we have many options by which to pursue good, deep bonds in a variety of ways. The goal is to make sure we don’t treat romance as the only acceptable way to live. The goal is finding ways for humans to get our needs fulfilled healthily and widespreadly. The goal is to be more comfortable with and more accepting of people who don’t follow The One Righteous Path Of Required Romance, so that we can all be more comfortable with ourselves and the relations around us -- including being comfortable with our romances!

#long post #amatonormativity #heteronormativity #analysis #my analysis #ask #ask me #non-dragons #LGBTQ #LGBTQIA #queer community #aroace #awesome anonymous friend #Anonymous

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kiki-is-writing · 3 years

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the beginning and end of everything UPDATE!!!

DISCLAIMER: This is my original work. I choose to share my work here and here specifically for my comrades in the writing community. Plagiarism in any form will not be tolerated.

HI EVERYONE! I FINISHED MY NOVEL! Whooo hoooo!!!

It’s actually sort of surreal, I started it in June of 2020 and now it’s 2021 and it’s over! Ty, Jude, Ada, Dorothy, and Madison have been living in my head since October 2019, and less than a year and a half later, they’ve been brought to life! Crazy!!

A summary in case you forgot/are seeing this and don’t know who the hell I am:

Ty Kassisieh has no direction. He’s just graduated college with a degree he doesn’t care about and no clue what to do with his life. Per his parent’s request to be more like his genius twin sister Ada, he picks up a job at a local library to save some money. There, he meets his coworker Jude, who’s stuck in a position not too far from his own, and Ty immediately sees the potential for companionship. But after speaking to him, Ty discovers Jude is everything he isn’t: he’s cold, introverted, aloof, and worst of all, humorless. Soon, Ty forgets all about his initial goal and becomes determined to crack Jude and see what makes him tick.

Ty’s journey of self-discovery is uprooted completely as what begins as an investigation blossoms into a friendship, and then into something more. Ty is forced to confront the feelings he’s been pushing down since high school and come to terms with himself, his family, and the relationships he thought would never change. It’s only when he befriends a young library patron, Madison, that he finally begins to see the world for what it is and figures out how to pave his own path.

Here are some stats!

Word count: 65,900 (it’ll get at least 20k words longer)

Genre: Romantic comedy

POV: third person limited, present tense

Characters: Ty, Jude, Ada, Madison, Dorothy, Diane, Omar, Paul, Uncle Hubie, Ethel

Chapters: 15

Font: Times New Roman (sorry)

This was my second novel, but the first novel where I actually knew what I was doing, at least a little bit. And holy shit, I learned SO much about my writing process:

1. I cannot pants for the life of me. I have no idea what I’m doing without an outline. But sometimes, the outline doesn’t know best. I added a ton of subplots and off-the-cuff scenes halfway through that have no set up, gave up on subplots that weren’t working halfway through, it’s a disaster of a plot. BUt the important thing is that I know how to make it perfect. I know what the story needs and how to get that.

2. Why can I only write in bursts? I wrote like seven chapters, half the novel, in the month of July. There was a day where I wrote almost 5,000 words. And last night, I wrote for 6 hours straight, without eating, drinking, or going to the bathroom (because frankly, I forgot those things existed) and I cranked out a chapter and a half in a DAY. I had such a headache and was very hungry by the end, but it was SO REWARDING.

3. I noticed while drafting is how often bits of my real life bled through. Little anecdotes, arguments, dynamics and experiences. Those who know me particularly well can probably pick out little allusions to either some of my past works, my friends, and myself.

It was 1:00 AM when I finished, and I live on the east coast of the U.S. so we’d just had a huge Nor’easter (New England for blizzard) and I went outside in the middle of the night, in my pajama pants and my uggs, and stood in my backyard and looked at the trees and processed the fact that wow, I just wrote a novel. It was cathartic and beautiful and I 110% recommend standing in snow up to your knees by yourself in the middle of the night. Very peaceful.

As exciting as it is to be done, it’s kind of weird to be ending it. I started this novel from Ty’s first person POV, and he was just kind of another goofy, dorky character that shared my own sense of humor as well as my sense of perfectionism. But as I wrote, not only did I realize that third person worked so much better, but I started realizing how much of me and my own journey as a queer person had gone into this. It turned from a light-hearted, silly rom-com with little depth, a fun summer project to keep myself busy, to the most self expressive story I’ve ever written. I didn’t expect it to come out with much deeper meaning, it was summer and I was on a light-hearted rom-com kick, and life was carefree and silly and I wanted a book that reflected it. And then, school started, and life just descended into absolute chaos, and it was November, and it was NaNoWriMo, and I was writing my novel while watching CNN for a week straight. (But it all turned out great! New president!)

I can’t remember exactly when I started to incorporate my own struggles growing up as a queer kid, but somehow they bled through in the second half. The last scene of the book is (no spoilers) an incredible breath of fresh air for Ty. It’s something I can only wish for every queer teenager, that moment where you can finally be unapologetically and authentically queer without that nagging worry in the back of your mind. I’ve struggled over this past year with my identity, and as Ty found his place, I found mine as well.

Seriously, writing this book was one of the best experiences I’ve had. Yes, the entire time I had a separate document open, writing down every little thing that needs to change, but I legitimately feel excited for draft 2 and continuing working on this project. I think about how much this book helped me, unconsciously creating the story that I needed to hear, and how maybe, in ten, fifteen years, some queer teenager will be wandering around a bookstore and pick up The Beginning and End of Everything. Maybe just because the cover is pretty. Maybe they like the F. Scott Fitzgerald reference in the title. Maybe they heard about it on Twitter somewhere. But they pick it up, and see themselves in Ty, or in Jude, or in Madison. I know every book that gave me that feeling, I cherish them so deeply, and all I really want is for someone to get that feeling from something I wrote. To see themselves in the pages and know they’re not alone. It’s cheesy, but it’s true, and it’s important.

I think one of my favorite themes in the novel is the whole ‘someone’s got your back’ thing. I 100% did not mean for it to go in the way it did, but I was writing this as I was going through some Stuff, some stuff in which I realized that having someone, just one person in your corner can mean the entire world, if only for that moment. And if there’s no one in your corner when you need it, you can be in someone else’s when they need it. Frankly, I love how it plays out throughout the novel. There was always that theme of Ty and Madison sort of being there for each other, but as I found myself in the first semester of the school year building new friendships with incredible, smart, funny people (albeit most of that being online) and strengthening old bonds, it worked its way in, and it fits perfectly. It adds depth and strength to the story I couldn’t have done consciously.

Essentially, it is still the romantic comedy I intended it to be, but it’s also a coming-of-age (except much older than the traditional coming-of-age). Watching some of my close friends and family graduating college and continuing to struggle with their identities and places in the world I think is what truly carved out this idea. Because not everyone has everything figured out as soon as they graduate, and I feel like, as a teenager, that’s something my friends and I really need to get through our heads. A lot of us expect to have everything figured out as soon as we turn 18. But, we’re 18. There’s a lot of life ahead of us, and we can’t possibly know what we’re going to do so young. So I think that was my main source of inspiration for this novel, and I’m really proud of the way that fleshed out. Of course it needs lots and lots of work, but. I like it. The way my personal life bled through and strengthened the story is incredible to reflect on. Honestly, I really, truly, cannot wait to start working on draft 2.

taglist:

@alicewestwater @august-iswriting @lottieiswriting @phiwrites @jennawritesstories @chloeswords

#the beginning and end of everything #teenwriter #am writing #my writing #my novel #writblr #writeblr #writing update #teen writer #young writer #writingupdate #writer problems #writerscommunity #writing #drafting #nanowrimo #losenanowrimo2020 #camp nanowrimo

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extorchic · 3 years

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Sk8 the Infinity is my obsession but it ends up next week

Sk8 is special, it became kind of like an obsession in just about a month. I got invested in the story and 've grown to really care about the characters, specially Reki and Langa. I want to write a bit (well not really “a bit” because there’s a lot in my head) about Renga, I haven’t been as passionate for a ship in a while, it’s taken over my blog, for example. So by clicking “Read more” there’s some sort of a timeline of their interactions, some personal thoughts and its impact on me, as a gay man and rep and so on.

Now, some may argue that since it's a sports anime, it's supposed to focus on skateboarding BUT, the relationship between the characters takes the spotlight more often than in other shows of the genre. This may be a staple on Hiroko Utsumi's works, which has been previously portrayed in Free!, but I've seen that Sk8 has taken this to an eleven.

The relationship between Reki and Langa is one that grows progressively throughout the series, and skateboarding seems to be a sort of vehicle for that to happen:

They start as strangers that have found a common interest in skating, Reki had previously lost a friend and was desperately looking for someone to share his passion with and Langa had lost his father and his passion for snowboarding, which had sunk him in a state of disinterest for everything. This changes when they meet.

In episode 2 we see their bond expanding as Reki teaches Langa the basics and in episode 3 their friendship is solidly cemented.

Episodes 4 and 5 shows how this friendship grows into outright concern for each other safety, episode 6 once again show how protective they can be to each other but also introduces Reki's self-esteem issues which lead to...

Episode 7, the rift. Reki feels that he's getting left behind, maybe some bits of jealousy, and Langa's just too focused on feeling the thrill that is skateboarding that he just doesn't notice Reki's issue, that's why he thinks he wouldn't mind him breaking their promise. Episode 8 shows how heart-wrenching is for Langa to have this distance between him and Reki.

It is at this point that the relationship loses all the chances it had to be platonic, at least for me. Aside from the scene between Langa and his mom which seems to confirm that he indeed feels more that friendship, it also shows Reki longing for him but fearful of a reunion. That's why he goes undercover to see his race (after Joe's suggestion), and in episode 9, he not only defends Langa from people talking on his back, but also it's him calling Langa's name that gives the latter the boost to defeat Joe. Of course I can't avoid mentioning how Langa feels absolutely no thrill skateboarding unless Reki's there with him (as in "it's meaningless without you") and the beat of his heart returns only after he hears Reki calling for him.

Episode 10 has Langa continuing looking for Reki, as he's finally realized how much he cherish him and their relationship, but Reki still had to go through his own conflicting thoughts and emotions, which similar to what happened last episode, only surface when confronted to someone (Tadashi in this case) talking against something he loves, which makes him realize he loves skateboarding and doing it with Langa more than having any negative emotion.

Their reunion is probably the most emotional moment in the series: They skate together and enjoy it to the max, and not only that, Langa also tells Reki how much he means to him, not because Reki needed a compliment, but because Langa was overflowing with admiration for him. Then they share their mutual desire to skate with each other for eternity. Finally episode 11 shows them behaving like they used to, but Langa's more conscious on how he must appreciate what's dear to him and Reki finally going forward without fear. The renewed bond also boosts Reki during his race with Adam.

So, after all of this, it's safe to say that the show's plot relies HEAVILY on this relationship, more so than on skating itself despite also being centric to the story. Despite this, there are still some people, yes, "dude-bros" that argue on how they're "just friends" or "bros being bros". I'd disagree by saying that in even very close platonic friendships or even sibling relationships, there's a sense of separation, a division of some sort. It is also true that it's important to represent male platonic bonding, but Reki and Langa's relationship and how it’s been built goes a lot deeper than that just being platonic.

Is this LGBTQ+ representative? I've listed only some narrative points that very strongly suggest a romantic subtext, besides them there are plenty of visual features that support this approach (the eyes reflection thing, color-coding, symbolism, two freaking men in a love hotel, even if it was played for laughs) as well as the merchandise (specially the CindeReki CD drama). However, without a very explicit reveal or a confirmation, it'd be all left as subtextual speculation. And it'd be a bummer because we need this kind of rep, we need to see stories where two people meet after having left some traumatic experience, grow to care for each other and help each other to overcome those traumas, through laughing and sharing activities that they can both enjoy and be passionate about, even if there's obstacles on the way, so much so that when they're apart the pain is unbearable. I mean, of that isn't love, what is it?

As a gay man myself I've felt related to these two characters, in a way they already represent me, personally. But if that happened to end up as just fan interpretation, I’d feel something is missing somehow, dissatisified dissappointed to an extent, but I wouldn’t resent the series, nor the creators. The series relies heavily on the relationship for its narrative but it also offers other things: Amazing animation and music, lovable characters, an enticing story, I can tell it’s done with passion and most importantly it’s a lot of fun! Emotional, but fun! As I mentioned, it’s made me feel so many things in a single month and has inspired me as well. Besides, it’s quite apparent that they do love each other, they mean the world to each other. If I speak completely honestly, I just want the two of them to skate together in Okinawa infinitely forever, and that’s what they want to do. Maybe if we focus too much and judge on whether it is or not rep, maybe we can’t enjoy the series at its maximum, Yes, it is annoying to see some fans dismissing the romantic potential, but the normalizaton of sexual orientation diversity is, to this day, a work in process. I guess the best thing we can do is show our best side to the world, as queer people in general and as allies.

Now don’t get me wrong, I still freaking want this ship to be indisputably romantic in the canon, maybe more than I’ve wanted any of my ships ever before, and there’s still an episode left, I hadn’t lost hope, and hoping is the main thing you can do at the shipping game. What else can be done? To ship with honor, respecting everyone (fellow fans, creators, staff on the internet) and not getting into needless arguments or just creating a bad atomosphere in the fandom. It is a community after all, we need to get along, live and let live.

#sk8 #sk_8 #sk8 the infinty #sk8 renga #sk8 reki #sk8 langa #personal thoughts #This comes from a shipper who is very passionate for the pairing but also wants to be respectful

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manggaetteokkie · 4 years

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So this isn’t directed at you, but you’re a really nice person with great thoughts on shipping so I wanted to vent a little. You can skip this if you want. Honestly I generally dislike shippers no matter who they ship, and it isn’t some false moral superiority like some people, but more that a lot of shippers really do disregard intimate platonic relationships or treat them as somehow lower than a “real relationship”. I know that it’s a personal nitpick (and that there ARE shippers who recognize this, like you) but as someone who is aromantic/asexual and in a deeply intimate Queer-Platonic relationship, I really wish more people in general could grasp that intimacy isn’t something inherently sexual or romantic. Sorry for the ramble and thanks for always being such a wonderful person.

Hey anon! If anything I’m happy you’re open to reading my posts despite our differences x)

So this is just a personal opinion, but I’ve been having thoughts recently that the whole concept of romantic relationships is quite “romanticized”. Call me pessimistic, but a lot of us are filled with the thought that romantic relationships means finding the One who will be your person and that you will love each other in a way that is different from others. While this is definitely the case for a lot of people, I can’t help but think about those who don’t ever get to experience that feeling or find that person. Wouldn’t that make them think that there is something is wrong with them because their romantic relationship isn’t going as they thought or imagined? There’s just seems to be such an emphasis put on romantic love that simultaneously lessens the importance of other forms of love?

Anyways, I’ve been having thoughts like that recently and it made me realize that there’s literally no guarantee that the romantic relationship you end up having will be better than any of the platonic ones you have. Of course, I’m not trying to undermine any forms of love, I would just like to have people cherish their platonic relationships as much as they do for their romantic ones. Any form of love and relationship should be regarded as precious, without needing to say “only this one kind is real”.

I don’t claim to be an expert when it comes to love and intimacy, so these are purely my musings. But to bring it back to Jikook (afterall, I’m a shipper ;)), realizing the importance of their bond without necessarily putting a label on it really makes you notice how important they are to each other? I honestly feel like BTS are seven soulmates that have somehow found their way to each other, so it doesn’t make any sense to say think that any of their bonds lose relevance as soon as it’s no longer possible to view it in a romantic way. I say this because there are people who only value their relationship if there can be romance to be taken out of it. Once that’s gone, they go into a panic and start thinking that it’s over, they’re over, which honestly makes me sad...

#thanks for the ask!#bts #bangtan #jimin #jungkook #jeongguk #jikook #kookmin #discourse #anon #anonymous #answered

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stifledlaughterao3 · 3 years

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How writing recursive fic (fanfic of fanfic) has made me a better author and member of fandom

After doing the math, approximately 45% of my AO3 works are recursive fanfiction. (I am actually excluding a large translation I did which was a translation of a recursive work itself!) The majority of that is from one single series, with the rest being significantly below that.

There are a few fanfics for which I've written fic.

1. "ReSWAN: The remix of Song Without A Name" by LadyYatexel

2. "Deep Dish Nine" by LadyYatexel (which turned into a community-wide AU where I took inspiration from other authors as well, such as tinsnip)

3. "Doing the Unstuck" by TempeTot

4. "Designation: Miracle" by umisabaku (the large majority of my recursive fic is for this series, most within a collection work, as well as a few stand-alone works.)

I've noticed a few patterns in fic that I am writing fic for. They are always:

1. An AU where the characters, changed by their AU circumstances, have aspects of them that are unique to the AU application and reflected strongly in their personalities and actions

2. There is more depth / possibilities of emotional interplay in the AU presented than the canon

3. Queer in both pairings and mood (relying heavily on found family, introspctions about sexuality, subversive responses to mainstream sexuality) . There sometimes are M/F pairings in the fic I base my fics on, but at least one pairing within the fic is always queer.

Permission

Something that feels different from writing regular fic as opposed to recursive fic is permission from the author. When writing regular fic, I feel that I do not owe the creator any sort of heads up or permission to write. There are entire laws protecting me on this.

Therefore, theoretically, there should be nothing stopping me from just writing recursive fic, posting it, and saying ,"This other fic was inspired by this other fic". However, having been in fandom since 2004, I don't feel it would be good fandom etiquette to do that without at least inquiring first.

I've never been told I cannot write the fic - however, if the author preferred that I not post a fic of their fic, I'd adhere to that. Would I write it in private? If I felt moved enough, yes, but not post. There's nothing stopping me except that I, as a longtime member of fandom, want to do my part to make fandom a kind place that acknowledges reasonable requests.

Perhaps it is hypocritical of me to write and post fanfic without the permission of the original media creator, whether it be a single author or a giant franchise, but when it's a fellow fanfic creator, that's where I draw the line? Maybe it's because I can usually easily message the fanfic creator and ask. Whereas, if the creator of the anime I am writing about personally messaged me to ask me to stop writing their characters kissing (or, more likely, having extended conversations over food), maybe I would pull my fics. Or, in the long-standing tradition of fandom/media relationships formed on defiance, I would wave my hand at the OTW Legal Team and say, "Go talk to them." It hasn’t happened so I honestly am not sure how I would respond.

In every instance the fanfic author has happily given me the go-ahead. Some have linked my work in the "works inspired by" section at the bottom of their fic, and others haven't, and I'm fine either way. I'm discomfited by the idea of the recursive fic author requesting the author link their story in the original fic - it feels like asking for free advertising, which then gets into the capitalism aspects of fandom that in general make me uncomfortable (in this case not cash capital but social capital/views.)

Posting etiquette

Another piece of recursive fic etiquette that I've done is, after I figured this particular etiquette out, was that I kept all of the stories for my recursive fic in one AO3 work and added chapters. (My earlier recursive fics are their own works as I hadn't gotten the hang of how I wanted my recursive fics displayed.) Even if the stories are long and disparate, they are 95% of the time one-shots, so that would be A. many stories filling up the AO3 feed for that fandom and B. filling up my AO3 works list with many one-shots for this specific AU.

For the fanfics that are longer or are really deserving of their own works, I try to really limit it and then post all of the chapters at once so it does not appear multiple times over days. These however are rare. The majority are held within one work that I call a collection. For example, "A Handmade Scrapbook" (which hosts the majority of my "Designation: Miracle" recursive fics), at this time of writing, has 23 chapters, all of which are completely unrelated one-shots and AUs. I sometimes would save up a handful of shorter stories I had written and post those chapters all at once so as not to clog the Kuroko No Basuke tag (which is canon for the D:M AU.) Sense I cannot assume average KnB fanfic reader has context of D:M (even if they read the first story, the majority of my works are based on the most recent addition to the series), they cannot read that fic, and thus I feel a bit guilty if I were to clog the tag with my recursive fic. I also do not tag the canon tag on tumblr if it is a recursive fic, especially one that requires a ton of source fic knowledge in order to begin to understand.

Again - is this necessary? In theory, it’s not. I could post a 100-word recursive fic every day forever on the AO3 tag and be completely in my rights to do so (I mean, I’m sure there’s some rule about spamming but that aside). However, something in me is feeling that it would not be considerate of other readers to do so. (I could probably look at my actions and think, “Hmm, is this influenced by my gender and how women are taught to not take up space, even if it’s okay to?” but we shan’t be getting into that now.)

I know that posting frequently, spreading out those frequent posts, and advertising gets more comments on fics. However, for my recursive fics, I genuinely don’t expect them to get views -and that’s okay! They often require pre-reading of another fic, which narrows down the readership considerably, and if it’s something huge, like my longer D:M fics, that’s a big investment. Therefore, writing recursive fic is genuinely a for-me practice that lets me be very self-indulgent and narrow with my interests. It's an interesting catch-22 - I truly enjoy comments and kudos, and love hearing feedback on my work. But the less I assume that someone will read a fic, the more off the rails I feel I can go with it, and thus why some of my favorite fics I've written are the recursive ones.

That does mean, however, when people read my recursive works, I cherish those comments and interactions a little more than my other fics, as I know that it took a little more to read my works and comprehend and appreciate them.

Characterization

Something specific to writing recursive fic is that it differs from regular fanfic in how precise the characterization is. Generally, when writing fic, you have to align (at least somewhat) to the characterization portrayed in canon. However, your interpretation of it can vary pretty wildly, and while you probably would be called out as writing someone as out of character if it skews significantly from canon, you can get away with your various interpretations.

With recursive fic, you’re deliberately working with a fellow fanfic writer’s interpretation. The entire point of your writing a fic of one of their fics is that their interpretation or worldbuilding grabbed you enough to want to write from it. Of course, there are instances where a characterization of a character is popularized enough to where you can just write it and it’s not necessarily a ‘recursive fic’ as much as ‘using a fic’s interpretation as a template’. In a recursive fic, you’re specifically writing to that characterization.

That’s why I think writing recursive fic has made me a better fanfic writer- writing regular fic, I did not feel particularly beholden to the canon characterization, and could shrug off writing a character a specific way if I felt like it. It is, after all, my right as a fic writer to do so.

However, with recursive fic, the entire purpose of me writing a recursive fic is so that I could make an homage the author’s characterization. It’s the characters that drew me in, after all (although it is occasionally the worldbuilding as well, which is when I bring in my own OCs, but that happens infrequently.) In many instances in the fics I’ve written recursive fics for, the characters had become so distinct that they were basically OCs at that point (or, I was writing about actual OCs from the fic). Therefore, I had a fairly strict characterization to follow if I really wanted to be writing recursive fic and not just “loosely inspired by this fic”.

Which leads back to another point about being a more conscientious member of fandom. The likelihood of anyone from the media I engage with reading my fic is slim to none. However, since I do ask each writer if I can post a recursive fic based on their fic, the likelihood of them reading it goes up significantly more (not necessarily 100%, but definitely higher than 0%!) Therefore, I feel slightly more beholden to ‘getting it right’.

I’ve also asked if I can write NSFW content of the characters for some stories, particularly if they were OCs. Again - something I am not required to do, but it’s part of me being respectful of the author’s choices. It also wouldn’t fit some character’s arcs or personalities if I were to write smut of them, so I do not do that, but for other characters, there were fade-to-black scenes that I wanted to fill in the gaps of. However! Just because that existed in the fic didn’t mean it was alright for me to write it, so I checked.

That said, per my earlier comment, I clearly write regular fic of characters having sex without checking in on the creator’s wishes. In fact, if a media creator came out and said, “X isn’t gay, stop writing them gay” I likely would not care. (See: Star Trek DS9’s butchering of Garak/Bashir. In my head, however, they are happily married and living together on Cardassia.) Therefore, it could be something else to examine within myself, as to why I give more consideration to fellow fans over the wishes of the media creators.

Conclusion

I write recursive fic for the same reason I write regular fic- I am so incredibly compelled to write it that I legitimately cannot stop myself. The same daydreaming+plot bunny herding+fannish actions I do when I engage with a new media I like occur for fics that I read, particularly well fleshed-out AUs with a strong worldbuilding premise that I’d like to expand upon.

However, unlike regular fic, the engagement with the author of the source fic means I am interacting with other writers on a more personal level than just leaving comments, something I really hadn’t done in fandom when I first started writing fanfiction when I was much younger.

Writing recursive fic has made me friends and helped me understand my own writing more. Even though it narrows my reading audience considerably, it brings me back to why I write in the first place - my own joy. Comments, views, kudos, and feedback are wonderful, but in the end, writing something because it makes me happy, no matter how niche or narrow, is why I write.

#fanfic

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merrysithmas · 5 years

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you may have talked about this before but do you believe boris already knew he was queer and first approached theo bc he liked him or that he started crushing after they developed a close friendship and theo was what made him question his sexuality? i think theres reasons to believe either side- boris being bold enough to cuddle him in bed seems like he was making a move but him suddenly “loving” kotku seems like an impulsive move out of fear bc he realized he might like a boy. oof idk

I think Boris knew he was attracted to boys — which is evident by his playful, charming, almost teenaged-desperate pursuit of Theo. I think he probably inherently knew this about himself for a long time. I think Boris has always been physically attracted to boys since he’s entered puberty and since he’s still a young teen it is kind of a fun, funny, interesting, enlivening thing for him.

He’s never had a stable life and despite being all over the world he’s led an extremely sheltered existence in a certain way with only one terrible person as his constant (Vladimir). Boris lets it slip to Theo that everywhere the miners go they are hated — this includes Boris. Boris is hated by the public everywhere they go. So long as he is part of their unit, he is hated. That is mortifying to intelligent good-natured Boris. That is why he learns to slip out and around, to be so personable and friendly. His world travels have not been so glorious but probably rather extremely lonely and isolating (as with Judy in Canada), hurtful, and damaging. That is why Bami and Judy (and eventually, Theo) stand out to him so much — people who were kind to him in a childhood of isolated misery and directionlessness. Boris has no moral hang ups about his same-sex attraction - why should he? This directionlessness in his key developmental years is also a good thing: He never grew up around any sort of organized belief systems or stayed bound within an orthodox culture for too long for it to indoctrinate him as its own.

I think people really underestimate how incredibly remote and friendless Boris’ life must have been. Boris is a cheerful boy who Theo says is often plagued by black moods and sullen attitudes. He is an abused and secluded child dragged from location to location with literally no love or stability and constantly brutally beaten to the point where it does not even phase him. Boris actually equates love with that abuse — and nonchalantly claims his father loves him. That is painful to read, that amount of damage.

Living with a bunch of derelict miners whose leader was HIS FATHER (so surely then mostly assholes) and who are “hated everywhere they go” Boris has probably seen any NUMBER of things a conservative-minded person would (likely often erroneously) see as “morally unacceptable” — it’s like Boris is traveling the world with a crew of pirates. He’s probably seen drinking, all kinds of drugs commonly used in front of his face. He has esoteric knowledge about drug use that a child of his age should not — so he was taught by the miners: roll like this, dont include the stems, never mix this, tuck snuff like this, you can get this kind of drug here here and here, it isn’t safe if it doesn’t look like this. His young child’s mind eager to learn sucked up this black information from men who probably didn’t have a second thought to a child or what his developmental needs were. He’s probably first hand witnessed sex workers copulating with his father’s crew (how else would be have learned about the opportunity to lose his virginity in an Alaskan parking lot to a sex worker?), definitely thievery, and said he saw his father murder a man in the mine once and cover it up. Boris’ mind is full of a lifetime of this morally shadowed behavior being presented as normal, or at least secret but common.

I think he understands his attraction to boys in this same way. I think he feels it isn’t “appropriate” to share with Outsiders but it is something that Happens, something that is no one’s business but his own, and something that brings him pleasure and happiness and therefore something he will look for. However he knows it isn’t common or visible or “appropriate” to be showy about it in front of others — especially not people who could judge him (kids at school), kick him out (society), or hurt him (his father). Boris treats his attraction to Theo like his other vices and “bad” habits - barrels head first — but secret: deep dive into happy drug use (but don’t show his dad), steals everything he ever needs (but don’t let them see, put it in my coat), lies when it suits him (lies to Xandra and Larry and his father and Theo too), happily sleeps with Theo and has sex with him (but this is between you-and-me).

He knows other people might have a problem with his actions — but he does not. So that’s his hangup there. He is aware of and ever-vigilant of his surroundings. School: a safe place isolated from his father. He is free and happy to do what he wants at school — including crush on and go after Theo who he clearly likes. He thinks Theo is cute, flirts with him, tries to get him to notice him, talks to him after class, sits next to him on the bus, begs him to come over his house, tries to impress him with far-flung stories, gives him alcohol because it’s what he’s seen his father’s men do in pursuit of romantic partners or as a bonding ritual with one another.

Theo’s house is also a safe place. So safe in fact that Boris starts to leave behind some of the maladjusted development of his childhood and become more of a happy, clear-minded person. Boris and Theo suffer from arrested development and one of themes of the book is childhood lost. They are forced to mimic adults either knowingly or unknowingly, and act in ways that children should not have to in order to survive this Adult World alone. With one another they begin to heal from their traumas, their affection for one another the catalyst. Theo cooks for him, talks to a babbling eager-to-talk Boris (imagine how few people have listened to or understood the ideas of a smart boy like Boris, often surrounded by oafish alcoholics, his violent father where he is expected to keep quiet, or cultures where he does not speak the language), Theo sleeps next to him willingly, he likes Boris, a boy from New York (the top of the world!) he think Boris is funny and smart and worldly, shares his dog with him, hangs on his words, becomes his companion, cares for him if he drinks too much, tried to tend his wounds, welcomes him gratefully into his broken family, watches his favorite movies with him, celebrates holidays with him, inherently values him — and so starts to mend Boris’ broken heart.

A lot of things and viewpoints Boris has are clearly repetitions of things he has heard his father or the miners say — “Christmas is for children” (of course they’d say that to a tiny Boris longing for the magic of Christmas as a child stuck in a mining camp watching the peripheral joy of children around him and coming back to bleak hunger and a dark home), or “god yes I loved having sex with her” (about his hooker in the parking lot — Boris then says he knew she didn’t enjoy it and never shows enjoyment but rather avoidance towards women and girls in any genuine way afterwards, yet covets Theo’s physical company).

Theo on the other hand, who for a short while and then so painfully ripped from him, grew up with love. His natural disposition in Vegas comes from a place of being so recently loved and cherished by his mother and he here, in this lonely place, turns the focus of this disposition onto the one person who is kind and protective towards him: Boris — his one light in a life that has turned very dark. This is like an alien world to Boris. Lonesome and neglected Boris is touched and startled and soon changed by this kindness. So much so that Theo, unknowingly, alters the rest of Boris’ life (Boris feels Theo saved his life).

So that is why I believe the Kotku Gay Panic came about. After their climactic Vegas pool scene where their abuse and trauma is opened to one another (their wounds from their fathers, from fire, literally pouring into the purifying chlorine of the watery womb - mother - pool as they try to drown one another, angry at their attraction to one another, but then cling to and save one another instead) Boris begins to not just have fun and have sex and have freedom with Theo (all okay things by Boris’ standards as long as it is secret) — after that scene and they sleep together and Boris satisfies that teenaged human sexual need... they continue to hookup and be at bliss for a very long, happy time where they both begin to psychologically heal— Boris doesn’t just have sex and fun with Theo, he realizes he starts to love Theo.

Love - an extremely foreign concept to Boris who literally freaks the fuck out because he has no baseline for it. It isn’t the type of “love” that his father gives him (violent, untrustworthy), it isn’t the type of “love” the men who grew up around valued (cheap parking lot sex), it isn’t the kind of “love” his idol Larry has with Xandra (Larry lies to Xandra all the time), it isn’t the kind of “love” Boris has seen in his favorite movies (men and women over and over). No, this love with Theo is very very scary to him. Very perhaps dangerous. He doesn’t know.

I think Boris accepts his physical attraction to men as nbd. I think he probably feels most people feel such attractions or some other harmless private desires that certain people may see as an aberrant from “normal” for whatever reason (either typical kinks and silly hush hush sex shop porno stuff - or other far more despicable things he’s witnessed his father’s men do) and so thinks nothing of his own innocent, consensual goodtime-centered desires. Boris, who likely grew up with little exposure to healthy LGBTQ representation and has a very isolated POV in some ways, likely to some degree at the Vegas point in his life (however casually self-accepting he is) equates same-sex attraction with hush hush taboo sex activities — nothing to be ashamed of, but you’re not going to tell your dad.

As long as it is a personal thing, for him only, Boris embraces it. But it is the emotionality, the healing, the care, the love that freaks Boris out and makes him make a run for it to Kotku — only to recede to what he knows and repeat the exact kind of fake “love” he was taught by his father: unbelievable exclamations of devotion (Boris’ dad sobbing and telling him he loves him + “I love her I love her! She’s beautiful and perfect!”) coupled with the black truth (Boris’ dad beating the shit out of him + Boris beating Kotku).

Boris knows he likes boys but when he starts to love one — that’s when he runs away. Because that means something totally different: societally and personally.

#ask #anon #the goldfinch #boreo

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jemariel · 7 years

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Sherlock, Supernatural, and How I Am Trying to Take Shipping Less Seriously

I want to tell my story.

(tl;dr: I have a lot more fun with shipping when I don’t worry about whether or not it will ever be canon. OR: Never put that much faith in the hands of showrunners. It always ends BAD.gif)

I wrote most of this post months ago and it’s been rotting away in my drafts since maybe March? It seemed like a good time to actually post it. This is my own personal perspective, where I’m coming from on this. Obviously everyone’s feelings and opinions are 100% their own and I respect that. We’re all coming from somewhere.

Soooo. I’ve been lurking in various fandoms for a long time. I started in 2001, when I was 14. I’ve seen a lot of changes in fandom and the internet and how we interact with our favorite media. Now seemed like a good time for me to sort through this.

My first OTP was in Highlander. It was, for all intents and purposes, a dead fandom when I arrived. The show had been cancelled 5 years before I even discovered that other people wrote and posted their fanfiction, and one half of my pairing was dead for the final series. The pair I read about maybe shared half an hour of screen time through the whole three seasons they were both in the show? They had very little plot interaction at least.

I didn’t care. It didn’t stop me from reading about them. Didn’t stop me from wanting to put them in the same room and see what happened – usually them getting on like a house on fire.

The point is that we were under absolutely no impression that they would ever become canon. There was literally no possibility for it. But that didn’t matter. We could do what we wanted. We were just having fun.

After Highlander came Harry Potter. Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. I don’t remember if I started shipping them before or after the 4th book but it was definitely long before the 5th book. This was the first time I had the inkling that maybe, possibly, JK Rowling might have actually intended them to be read that way. This is where I read my first meta, before it was called that – someone who went through the books and pulled out excerpts that made a person think. Wow that eye contact really did linger, I thought. Maybe that embrace wasn’t strictly brotherly, I said to myself.

At the time, queerbaiting was not even a word in the vernacular. So when the 6th book came out and Tonks and Remus became the most eyebrow-raising pairing I’ve ever encountered, I just shrugged and went on with my life. Sirius was dead anyway so this really changed nothing. I liked Remus the gay uncle werewolf, but bisexual was fine too. I mostly wrote and read about them during their school days anyway. So this was fine.

Eventually I moved on, and where I landed after that was in the grand daddy of all slash pairings, the first fandom in our current fanfiction zeitgeist: Star Trek, the Original Series. Kirk and Spock. This was still a couple of years before the 2009 reboot movies, so all I had was a cheesy 60s TV show with a venerable back catalogue of fanfic. What’s better, this ship could never be sunk! Of course they couldn’t ever be canon, it was the 60s. Times were different. I could ship them with fervor and never be disappointed because of course it was just our interpretation. … Wasn’t it?

Oh, Gene Roddenberry. You idealistic sonuvabitch. You created the Vulcan word “t’hy’la” specifically for Spock to use for Kirk, and you made it mean friend, brother, and lover? Was that really necessary or were you trying to tell us something?

Here I found more fledgling meta, and I went through the novelizations of the movies with a highlighter devouring every piece of evidence I could find. But while this ship was unsinkable, it would also never fly. Even if Roddenberry had intended this, or supported it after the fact, prejudice surely had kept his intentions in the background. Subtext was our friend. We could work with subtext. The subtext wove a gay love story the likes of which we haven’t seen since the ancient Greeks. I was happy with that.

But then.

2010. Sherlock.

I knew going into it that Holmes and Watson were the greatest love story never told. I figured it would be a fun pairing for a while. But oh. I was not prepared. And oh, be still my beating heart, the Angelo’s scene! If I recall correctly I actually sat up straighter in my chair at “so you’ve got a boyfriend then”/”No.” Could they… could he? Did they actually…? Was this written for… me? For us? Could we, the weird little corner of the fandom be right for once?? The slash shippers, the queer kids, the ones who had been peering between the lines for decades to try and catch glimpses of ourselves in our favorite stories?

I buried the thought for a few years, devouring Johnlock fanfic like it was my job, my civic duty, my vocation. I waited patiently for each new series. But I never actually expected anything to come of my hopes until after season 3.

Bet you guessed it. TJLC had caught me like a spark in dry grass. The few analyses I’d read before were NOTHING compared to this. Suddenly it all seemed so possible. So real. After The Abominable Bride it seemed like there was nowhere else to go, nowhere to go but up. We were right. WE WERE RIGHT! For a whole year, we got to relish the thought that it might actually happen.

…………….. Season 4 was… tough. It felt like a slap in the face, all of our hopes thrown back at us with ignorance at best, cruelty and direct malice at worst. If it had been a good season on its own without canon Johnlock I might have been okay, but as it is….. It was not the first time I’ve had my heart broken by a TV show, and probably only seems like the worst by virtue of being recent. But I would very much like it to be the last.

A few months before diving head-first into the pre season-4 gear-up, I watched a few seasons of Supernatural. Just enough to meet Castiel and lay the groundwork for a Destiel obsession as a contingency plan for if season 4 of Sherlock went all pear shaped. I’m glad I did or I don’t know where I would have found my refuge.

But I started to notice something. From my earliest wading in the Destiel end of the tumblr pond, I shied away quickly from any discussion of evidence, subtextual clues used to make predictions, or whether or not Destiel could or should or will be canon. I still take all meta and spec I read with a healthy pinch of salt. I am trying very hard not to care about whether or not it becomes canon, because honestly? I miss the days when whether or not a ship was canon or had a snowball’s chance of ever becoming so had absolutely nothing to do with whether or not I shipped it.

Fandom is just one of many echo chambers that the internet has molded around every one of us. It is so easy to become convinced that our way is right and everyone else’s way is wrong, because we only hear our own voices and those of people we agree with reflected back at us.

We are not the arbiters of what happens in canon. The showrunners are NOT obligated to listen to us. Not everyone can be right, and the showrunners cannot listen to everyone. Nor should they. They are, for better or for worse, creating their own story. Not ours.

We can always write the story the way we want to, over and over in countless different ways. These days I see a show almost more as a set of toys to play with than as its own impermeable whole. I can believe that Dean and Castiel have been slowly falling in love over the course of the last decade. I can decide when and where I want them to have first admitted it, to themselves or each other. What’s more – I can change my mind. Some days I like believing that they’ve been together since Cas’s hand print was still fresh on Dean’s shoulder. Some days I’d rather believe that they’re still pining and in various states of denial. Or anything in between – it’s all equally valid. Once it’s said and stated in canon, that’s it. That’s the show. That’s how it happened. I like the freedom I have when my ship is not explicitly canon. The best is when they are clearly aware of it and give us moments like the mixtape or the Fanfiction Gap of 9x06 – new toys to play with – but let us shape what’s actually going on. As I say in my tags sometimes: They clearly love us and want us to have nice things.

All of this is NOT to say that up-and-coming queer kids do not richly need and deserve representation. God, not at all. I beat myself up about this a lot, for what feels like a terribly selfish desire to just enjoy it and not worry about whether or not the up and coming queer youth could have it better than I did. They can and they should and I still believe that season 4 of Sherlock was the biggest missed opportunity in queer cinema history.

I just can’t take it so personally anymore. For the sake of my favorite hobby, I cannot stake my enjoyment of a pairing and a show on whether or not the showrunners want to take the risk. I cannot let them dangle me on that particular string. I cannot give them that power over me.

So this is my manifesto, for me personally. If Destiel becomes canon? I will be over the moon. But I will not go hunting for it. I won’t expect it. I will cherish every gift that the showrunners give to us because they’re not obligated to give us a damn thing, so I can’t take what they do give us for granted. I will live my headcanons, write my fics, and I will love the show for what it is, warts and all. I will ship my ship, enthusiastically and with my whole heart, because it brings me joy to do so. Canon or no canon. @starsinursa @daughter-of-the-rain-and-snow

#personal #fanfiction #highlander #richie/methos #harry potter #remus/sirius #torchwood #jack/ianto #star trek tos #kirk/spock #sherlock #johnlock #supernatural #destiel #fandom

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artificialqueens · 6 years

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Interlude (Lesbian AU Sashea) - Wordsmithmaybe

!!! TRIGGER WARNING for ED, mention of substance abuse, and suicidal thoughts !!!

6K+ words

I literally wanted to finish this and post it since September, but life got in the way.

Writing from personal experience. Please don’t read if you know it can trigger you.

Sorry for any spelling mistakes…

I just mainly wrote this for my own mental health and to find some sort of relief..

Enjoy and happy New Year <3

Sasha wakes up the same way she went to bed.

Distraught. Anxious. Weirdly angry. Tired.

Angry.

She realises her anger isn’t caused by the fact that she fell asleep at 6AM. It’s not caused by the pending headache making its way from the back of her neck to her temple, nor by the constant pressing feeling inside her chest.

Her anger is caused by the sound of steps upstairs.

It is almost like someone is…dancing in the roof room, which would explain the distant yet prominent music beat penetrating her ears. Slowly and painfully carving a path to her brain, driving her insane.

She sighs.

And when she sighs, she almost starts crying.

She knows how stupid this whole thing is. She’s about to sob out loud, because she’s been woken up by some silly noises.

But that’s just the superficial reason behind the tears, the fake justification of her sudden urge to break down.

Sasha is aware.

She is aware that she doesn’t truly give a fuck about the sounds, although it would have been nice to get more than 5 hours of sleep.

There is a phenomenon that happens to everyone.

Or perhaps it just happened to her.

It’s the build up of everything that ever goes wrong, gradually yet constantly.

It’s the build up of her stay in rehab for 2 months, the build up of her discharge. It’s the build up of losing friends, losing her job, being forced to move in with her grandmother in the middle of nowhere for the sake of her mental health. It’s the build up of her almost death.

Sasha hadn’t cried over any of these things.

She hadn’t cried when she regained consciousness at the hospital only to find herself hooked to a billion machine after her third overdose on pills. Pills that were meant to make her thinner. More beautiful.

She hadn’t cried when she was forced to eat three times a day during rehab. She hadn’t even cried as she watched her body put on weight, and slowly change into something she’d always hated, always run away from.

But somehow, this stupid beat, this dumb sound upstairs is the breaking point?

No.

She doesn’t cry.

She throws her blanket away, and exits her room, absorbing her threatening tears right back in.

She hasn’t been outside this room ever since she arrived a few days ago. She didn’t want to face anyone or anything.

But she still makes her way up the old wooden steps.

When she finally opens the door, she’s ready to fight whoever caused her to wake up so early.

The first person she sees is her grandmother, dressed in her work out attire. Sasha always found it fascinating that an 85 years old woman still has the power and will to exercice.

But this time she isn’t going to compliment her grandma on her energy or athletic figure.

This time she’s pissed at her.

The grandmother is doing some weird hula hoops moves to an overplayed Spanish song that Sasha has heard a billion times.

“Can you stop this please? I’m trying to get some sleep!” Sasha quickly yells over the music.

Suddenly the song is stopped, her grandma looks at her, and Sasha realises that there is another person in the small room.

A person that she hasn’t seen in the midst of her tantrum.

The stranger stands there in her shorts and sports bra.

It almost feels like time has stopped as Sasha’s gaze travels across the room, examining the dark skinned woman.

She notices her curvy figure, the way her bottom protrudes, and breasts stick out. She notices the length of her legs, their shine, the intimidating symmetry of her sweat-highlighted face, and the playfulness of her violet coloured pixie hair.

In the friction of a second that it takes Sasha to scan her from head to toe, she feels uncomfortable, insecure, nervous.

As the stranger smiles at her, unprecedentedly so, Sasha gets a sense of something else: bewilderment mixed with a tint of lust.

“It’s 11AM, I thought you were up by now. I’m sorry my dear.” Her grandmother apologises.

Sasha finally shifts her eyes back to the grandma.

Seeing the anxious look on her face, she regrets bursting into the room.

“It’s fine,” she quickly says before exiting.

She runs downstairs as fast as she can, goes into her room, and closes the door.

She doesn’t know what happened, but she is sure it shouldn’t make her heart beat this fast.

As she sits on the bed, she catches her reflection on the wall mirror. She observes her baggy sweatpants and shirt. She eyes her bald head; a look she impulsively decided on, the day she left rehab. She runs her fingers across her pale face, feeling the dryness, feeling the lines that are starting to appears.

This is almost 30 years old.

How can this be almost 30?

Since childhood, Sasha Seinsberg was told that she would have the brightest future.

And she did.

She changed her name to Sasha Velour, and that was the beginning of the end.

She made headlines at the age of 21 with her work. She painted, created digital art, and even performed sometimes. She was a queer superstar, and she took over the world. She had millions of fans, and she made millions of dollars. But the empire barely lasted 5 years. Then, came the downfall.

Maybe it was her parents sudden death in a plane crash, or maybe it was the strain of abusive relationships she had gotten herself into.

Something clicked.

she became a different person.

She suddenly felt the need to be in control of her life. She wanted perfection. And she started with herself. She made the choice of becoming the ultimate art that she always dreamed of making.

So she starved herself.

It became a fatal addiction, followed by other addictions: drugs, alcohol, sex.

And the result? More self loathing, more yearning for control.

She wasn’t just stuck in an empty circle. She was stuck in a throbber that wouldn’t stop spinning. Her old self ceased to exist, and surely the media noticed. They turned against her.

People she cherished left her, because they couldn’t handle the self destructive behaviour.

And the fans? They eventually lost interest.

Her grandmother finally forced her into rehab.

But now seeing her face, the face she’s been avoiding, she can’t help but wonder if it’s worth it.

It all feels so pointless. Everything feels pointless.

She lays in bed, and she falls asleep.

She doesn’t dream about anything anymore. It’s just black and peaceful, so she sleeps. She does nothing but sleep all day.

She only wakes up when her grandmother brings her dinner.

Her grandmother stays in the room, watching her eat. It’s this unspoken contract. The old lady gets to take care of her, and Sasha, well, she gets to exist.

“I’m sorry about earlier, sugar.” Her grandmother’s sweet Russian accent rips through the unbearable silence in the room. It interrupts the awkward sound of chewing.

They don’t usually talk much during ‘food’ sessions, so Sasha is surprised.

“We usually work out in the living room,” she adds.

Sasha doesn’t know why she asks. Scratch that. She knows exactly why she asks.

She asks, because she is reminded with the stranger she almost met upstairs. She is reminded with her perfect glowing skin, and somewhat soothing smile. The smile that she only saw for half a second.

So she asks.

“Who was that woman with you?”

Sasha can swear that her grandmother pauses. She pauses for a moment, and looks at her in a way that she isn’t able to decipher. A look that makes her feel exposed, naked, vulnerable.

“Oh, that’s Shea, my personal trainer. Such a lovely woman.” Her grandmother replies.

Of course it’s the personal trainer. Sasha feels stupid for asking.

They don’t say much after that.

The grandmother leaves the room, and Sasha just goes back to bed. But this time she doesn’t fall asleep straight away.

She keeps thinking about the name Shea.

She even googles what it means.

That night, she has her first dream in years.

She’s kneeling on a stage covered in rose petals and fake blood. She’s naked. It’s a human rendition of one of her most popular paintings. She stands up, and the stage is no longer there. Instead, she is in an empty vast field. It’s daytime. The field is greener than anything she’s ever seen. It’s almost glowing.

She turns around, and that’s when she sees her.

Shea.

Standing right behind her, smiling exactly like she smiled in the roof room.

She seems to be naked just like Sasha.

But Sasha can’t shift her gaze from Shea’s face. She can’t look up or down. She just stares at her face. She is lost in her dark eyes.

Then, she wakes up.

It wasn’t a sad dream or a scary dream.

But Sasha somehow feels overwhelmed.

She cries.

She cries for the first time in a long time over everything at once.

She weeps for hours on her bed to the point where her cheeks burn from the tears, and she can’t control her sniffling.

She sobs until her eyes can’t make any more tears.

So she gets up, puts on a jacket and a pair of boots, and goes on a walk in the early cold October morning.

As she walks on the semi frozen road path amusing herself with the sound of chirping birds just now waking up to the world, feeling the crispy refreshing air go through her lungs, she realises how much she missed this.

She missed casual moments of silence. She missed this feeling of freedom, of not having to meet any expectations or cater to any needs.

This is the same ground she walked as a kid, a happy go getter child who didn’t care much about anything except enjoying every moment. This small town just outside the city of Chicago is where all her dreams were made. It’s where she became who she is.

Sasha had forgotten all of that until now.

She knows that she still has to go through so much. She knows that this new journey is just beginning. But somehow in that moment outside, she feels at peace. She feel liberated.

She is free.

Walking back home, she thinks about the dream. She wonders why it made her so emotional. She tries to remember details.

Like how Shea’s eyes were so rich and deep, how looking into them was like getting lost in an alternative universe. How her smile was so gentle yet intense at the same time.

When Sasha returns to the house, she forces herself to stop thinking about Shea, the stranger she only met once, because she realises how creepy that makes her.

But her new decision doesn’t last long.

The moment she walks into the living room, her eyes land on the same familiar face.

Shea is there, just sitting on the couch. She is texting away on her phone. When she feels Sasha’s presence, she looks up.

Sasha is frozen.

“Sorry, I’m just waiting for Vera,” Shea clarifies, referring to the grandmother.

“It’s fine,” Sasha reassures.

“You’re Sasha, right?” Shea questions, the same smile wearing her features again.

Sasha just nods. She doesn’t know how this woman knows her name. Maybe her grandmother mentioned her somehow after yesterday’s event.

She expects Shea to say something else. She looks like she’s about to speak as her mouth opens and closes, but she doesn’t utter a word.

Vera comes down stairs dressed for a hike.

“Good morning, Alexandra. I’m happy to see you up so early!” The grandmother smiles. She’s the only one who still calls Sasha by her birth name from time to time.

She forces a smile.

“I see that you’ve met Shea.” Her grandmother beams.

“Yes, I have.” Sasha confirms awkwardly.

“How rude of me, I didn’t even introduce myself.” Shea quickly jumps in an apologetic tone.

“You don’t need to,” Sasha assures.

She isn’t too certain why these words came out of her mouth, but the second she says them, she excuses herself and goes upstairs.

Sasha is intrigued.

She wants to know more about Shea. She wants to ask her about the purple hair, and the small arm tattoo that she hasn’t been brave enough to read. She wants to ask her why she lives in this small town when she seems like she belongs in a big city.

She wants to ask her if she knows that she looks like art.

Art.

Sasha hasn’t thought about the word art in so long.

She hasn’t been able to remember the last time she held a painting brush, the last time she sketched something. She hasn’t even been able to recall how art made her feel. It all just became emptiness upon emptiness.

And it has scared her.

But Shea.

Shea’s face. Her body. Everything about her reminded Sasha briefly of why she loved art so much.

She loved art, because she was fascinated by the human experience. Maybe that’s why every artistic piece she’s ever brought to the world was centred around a person, or a bunch of people.

During a very short moment of an endless time, Sasha is relieved.

She’s relieved because she realises that she can still see art in people.

She saw it in Shea.

Perhaps, that’s why she wakes up just as early the next morning.

She wants to see the art again. She wants to feel it this time.

But Shea doesn’t show up that morning, or the next morning, or the morning after that.

Sasha isn’t brave enough to ask her grandmother why there are no work out sessions anymore.

The grandmother doesn’t even bring it up at all. And at one point, Sasha starts to wonder if it was all an illusion.

The lines between reality and fantasy have been blurred for her since she went to rehab. The trauma of everything she’s been through has truly altered her perception of reality.

Eventually, the fascination slowly fades away.

Weeks pass by.

Sasha is back to her withdrawn state. She doesn’t care much. She just embraces the numbness. Her grandmother makes sure she eats, showers, and changes clothes. But Sasha doesn’t even have the will to fight through any of these dull activities. She just does them only to go back to her bed.

———–

It’s her 30th birthday, but Sasha doesn’t remember on her own.

She opens her eyes to the sound of her grandmother entering into the room excitedly, singing the Russian version of the birthday song, carrying a chocolate muffin with one lit candle on top.

Sasha gets up, and sits against the headboard.

She knows what she’s supposed to feel.

She’s supposed to feel happy, grateful for her grandma.

But she is unable to create these emotions inside her chest.

She still smiles though.

She still pretends to enjoy Vera’s singing, and her desperate attempt to have a ‘normal’ granddaughter.

How sad it must be for her grandmother, Sasha knows.

Losing her only son, his wife, and then having to rescue her sole granddaughter from the grip of death.

A well deserved third death in the family perhaps would have saved them both the agony of having to go through this day.

But Sasha is alive, and she can’t escape her birthday.

She blows her breath at the candle, and takes a bite of of the buttery muffin.

She remembers the billions of times she spitted out muffin bites, forced herself to run half an hour on the treadmill just so she could be worthy of the vacant number of calories.

None of these things matter anymore.

Not because she’s healed from her sickness.

Not because she’s able to make better healthier decisions for her body.

They don’t matter, because they won’t make a difference.

The calories- lack of, aren’t going to take away the void she feels so deep inside.

The muffin is just that. A muffin.

Her body is just that. A body.

She doesn’t love it. But she doesn’t hate it either.

She’s indifferent to it, just like she’s indifferent to so many things nowadays.

Most things in fact.

Her grandmother forces- talks her into going to lunch out with her. She gifts her a beautiful pastel pink mini dress, white heels, and a blonde straight bob wig.

She puts red lipstick and mascara on her face.

Sasha doesn’t protest. She doesn’t say anything even when she realises that the dress might be a bit too short and ‘girly’ for her liking.

She doesn’t stop her grandmother from placing the fake hair on her bald head.

They walk downstairs, into the living room. Sasha doesn’t notice that her grandmother has stopped walking behind her, but when she hears the loud unanimous 'surprise!’, it hits her.

She slowly turns around, facing a small crowd of 7 or 8 people varying in age. She doesn’t know any of them. They are probably friends of Vera, or maybe they’re neighbours.

They are all cheering and smiling and uttering happy birthday as her grandmother just stands next to them, not participating.

If Sasha’s heart could break one more time, it would be over how sad her 30th birthday is. But she doesn’t feel anything as she continues to scan their faces.

One face suddenly stands out.

It’s her.

It has to be her.

Her hair is different. It’s long, and black and curly. Maybe it’s a wig. It looks like a wig.

Sasha observes.

Time slows down again as she locks eyes with her.

Those dark brown eyes.

And that smile.

God, the smile.

In that moment, Sasha feels the sense of relief again.

She isn’t too sure whether she is relieved to see a somewhat familiar face or because it’s HER face.

Sasha doesn’t say anything for the next half an hour as they sing her more birthday songs, cut the cake, and eat it.

Eventually, they all forget it’s her birthday, and spread across the living room doing their own thing, and chatting with each other.

She catches her grandmother smiling apologetically at her.

Or maybe she’s just smiling.

Maybe the apologetic subtext is something Sasha imagines, because of how shitty this attempt at a party is.

Either way, she just sits on the corner of the couch, awkwardly feeling the fabric of the dress against her thighs.

“Hi,” someone says.

Before she looks up, Sasha is well aware who it is.

Shea sits next to her. Sasha stares at her cautiously, but with a sense of awe she hasn’t experience before.

“I honestly didn’t know what to bring you, so I just got you this sweater that I knitted myself.”

Sasha is surprised. No one has got her a present, except her grandmother. Granted, they don’t know her, and are probably just doing Vera a favour. But Shea doesn’t know her either yet she hands her a brown paper bag with a bright red sweater folded inside.

“Thank you,” She says, taking the sweater out of the bag and opening it.

“I think this colour will look really good on you.” Shea smiles.

Sasha doesn’t like knitted sweater. She doesn’t like bright red either. But she doesn’t say anything. She simply smiles back.

Then, she notices the small embroidery on the upper left side.

“Why this rose?” She asks in subtle shock and confusion, instantly going back in time to her dream.

“It’s a reference to your painting,” Shea casually replies, “Death Petals.”

Sasha almost drops the sweater as she raises her eyebrows at Shea.

“You’re familiar with my art?” She questions.

“Who isn’t!” Shea responds with enough enthusiasm to make Sasha uncomfortable.

Maybe she notices.

“Shit- Sorry, I didn’t mean to creep you out.” Shea apologises.

“It’s fine,” she says, “it’s just that I don’t make art anymore, and I don’t like talking about my previous pieces.”

I don’t make art anymore

This is the first time that Sasha confesses something like that, not only to herself, but to a stranger. And she doesn’t know how she did it.

Does she never want to make art again? Can she even make art again? So many questions overwhelm Sasha in the moment.

“I can take off the rose thingy if you want me to,” Shea suggests. She sounds regretful.

Sasha hates this. She hates being the wounded kitty that everyone tries so hard not to hurt. And even the people who try to treat her like a regular person end up stepping back once they realise how fucked up she is.

Perhaps that’s what Shea is doing now.

Sasha might not be good at art anymore, but she’s definitely still good at reading people.

She senses Shea’s body language shifts from carefree and comfortable to distant and nervous.

“You don’t have to,” Sasha smiles as a poor attempt to fix this. She doesn’t even know what she’s trying to fix or why she wants it fixed.

Shea smiles back, but it’s a very awkward smile.

Then, she says something about how she has to go to work. “I’ll see you around. Take care, and happy birthday.”

When Sasha goes back to her room later on, she tries the sweater, and to her disbelief, bright red does look good on her.

Her grandmother walks into the room, and gives her a small note.

“It was left in the brown paper bag,” she explains.

Sasha takes the note and reads it.

Call me or text whenever

Shea has left her a phone number. When Sasha looks up, her grandmother is grinning.

“What?” Sasha questions, too defensively.

“Nothing,” Vera says before walking away.

A big part of Sasha is too numb to even care about Shea’s number. But a smaller part is curious.

What if she texted her?

She spends the night wondering about the possibilities, then losing interest every single time.

Shea knows about her art, which also means she probably knows about her breakdowns and failures.

Maybe she left her the number, because she felt bad for her.

Maybe she just wanted to get into the mind of someone like Sasha.

So Sasha doesn’t text.

More weeks fly by like minutes.

Sasha does nothing special.

She tries to leave her room more often only to trick her grandmother into thinking she’s getting better, and it somehow works. But Sasha isn’t getting any better. She doesn’t know how getting better even feels. But she doesn’t care.

She spends most of her time thinking.

She thinks about her childhood, and that one girl she was in love with in the sixth grade. She wonders what she’s doing as she vaguely tries to remember the plain details of her face, the colour of her hair, and the smell of it. She thinks about her parents. She thinks about the day she got the news.

She wasn’t always a perfect daughter. Sometimes, she ignored her dad’s seemingly stupid questions about her art, and she was annoyed by her mother’s constant calls to check up on what she had for dinner or lunch. But other times, she was good to them. She brought them to shows, and she spent most of her money on making sure they were living comfortably.

When they passed away, she didn’t pat herself on the shoulder for buying them a house or a car. Instead, she collapsed in the middle of the hotel room before being woken up by her manager. She spent hours crying her eyes out, because she didn’t respond to the last text her mother had sent. She had read it, groaned in annoyance, and gone straight to her gallery opening.

It didn’t matter what the text said. In fact, she blocked that memory so hard that she can’t even remember it now.

But despite the partial amnesia, the scarring feeling is forever within her. That, she can never get rid of.

When she isn’t thinking about past traumas and childhood days, she thinks about the age of the building she passes by whenever she goes to the grocery store. She thinks about the trees that her grandmother has in her backyard, and she wonders why she keeps planting more when she isn’t going to be around long enough to see them taller and wider. And then she thinks about why the thought of the inevitable death of Vera doesn’t make her sad. She thinks about the constant emptiness that never goes away.

She thinks about therapists, and the concept of happiness. She ends up realising that maybe being happy is just a myth. Maybe it’s better to feel numb and empty than to be sad and miserable. Maybe the universe has healed her by taking her ability to feel away.

The piece of paper that Shea has left for her remains on the wooden nightstand in her room. Every morning, she sees it when she wakes up, and every night she contemplates throwing it away.

On the afternoon of December the 13th, Sasha goes on another walk to the local grocery shop. She buys a bag of pasta, a can of organic tomato sauce, and a bunch of vegetables that she liked the colour of. Then, she goes up the street to a local coffee shop, and buys her black coffee.

Even though it’s freezing cold, she still prefers sitting on the bench outside. She sips on her coffee, glad that the warmth of the liquid is slipping through her skin, bringing her gloveless hands to a normal temperature.

“You wore my sweater.”

Sasha looks up.

“It looks nice on you.”

As Shea sits next to her on the bench, Sasha isn’t surprised to see her again. It all feels like a deja vu. Maybe that’s why the universe made her randomly pick the red sweater to wear on this day. It all makes sense.

“It keeps me warm,” Sasha says, referring to the sweater.

“I like your beanie too,” Shea adds, with a smile.

Sasha feels the oh so familiar sense of relief that she’s felt every time she’s seen that smile.

But she doesn’t say anything.

She just stares at Shea.

She notices the return of the violet pixie hair cut. It probably never went anywhere anyway. Shea is wearing an orange leather jacket, black jeans, and knee high boots. The most colourful boots Sasha has ever seen. They are filled with illustrations of random things like planets, and vegetables and body parts.

“Your boots,"Sasha finally speaks up, "they’re amazing.”

Shea grins, “I would’ve let you borrow them if you called me or texted.”

Again, Sasha doesn’t feel shocked by Shea’s words. Everything that comes out of her mouth feels natural.

“I didn’t know what to say,” Sasha admits.

“That’s fine. I just really wanted to take you out,” Shea casually confesses, locking eyes with Sasha, who, for the first time since they started talking, is taken by surprised.

“Why?” She asks, but Shea doesn’t answer. She just smiles.

They sit silently for a few minutes, staring at each other.

For the first time since they met, Sasha wonders how it would feel like to go on a date with Shea, to kiss her.

To fuck her.

Her heart didn’t skip a beat. She didn’t feel so utterly flustered.

She just wondered.

She had never felt comfortable flirting with people or asking them out, even during her most accomplished and successful days. Usually, women would come up to her, and break the ice.

But the difference here is that she is too numb to even get nervous.

So she says it.

“Why don’t we go back to your place?”

Shea’s eyes widen in surprise. Sasha doesn’t even question her choice of words, but she tries to read Shea’s expression. She tries to understand if she’s glad Sasha was straight forward or shocked and turned off.

Shea doesn’t grin or smile, but the look in her eyes makes it very clear to Sasha that she is curious just as much as her.

“My car is parked right around the corner.” Shea simply states as the sexual tension begins to build up between them, and Sasha feels it.

She suddenly forgets about her problems, and focuses on the goal for the day: Shea.

And she likes it. She likes this almost normal feeling of excitement. She doesn’t care if it’s just temporary relief from the black hole inside her chest, and she doesn’t think about the future.

The car ride is silent.

But then Sasha speaks up.

“So why did you stop working out with my grandma?”

“Oh, she just needed a break, because her hips were hurting her.” Shea informs.

Sasha worries for a second.

“It’s fine though, don’t worry.” She’s reassures.

She grabs a vaper from the backseat, keeping her eyes on the road. She takes a hi, and blows the “smoke” out. Sasha just watches. She eyes her mouth, and kiss her in the moment.

“Wanna try?” Shea offers, glancing at Sasha quickly before shifting her gaze back to the road.

“I would, but I don’t want to end up in rehab again.” Sasha says with a straight face.

“Oh I’m sorry I didn’t mean to- It’s actually just essential oils. Nothing harmful.” Shea explains.

Sasha just smiles, “Thank, it’s fine.”

Shea turns on the radio as a attempt to perhaps get rid of the weird awkwardness.

Higher by Rihanna comes on.

“I’m obsessed with this song. Shit.” Shea grins as she enjoys the music.

Sasha just watches her. She’s never heard this song before. It’s an alright song. She doesn’t mind it. But she’s more interested in the way Shea is feeling herself to the lyrics and the tone of the song.

She’s more interested in watching her vape and move her head so rhythmically, as though feeling every word that Rihanna utters so deep in her soul.

She feels the song so much that she starts singing along. With a lot of passion.

A kind of passion that made Sasha ask her if she were a singer.

“God no,” Shea smiles.

Sasha quickly realises that while Shea probably knows way too much about her, she doesn’t enjoy the same privilege.

“Tell me about you,” Sasha questions as the road trip seems longer.

Shea chuckles.

“I’m not that interesting.” She shrugs.

“Anyone who wears these boots in day light is interesting enough to me.” Sasha insists.

“Ha. Well, I live in Chicago, and that’s where we’re going now. I promise I’m not kidnapping you.” Shea winks.

The notion of being kidnapped hadn’t crossed Sasha’s mind. After all she’s the one who suggested going to her place. But now that Shea brought it up, she realises that she wouldn’t even mind being kidnapped by her.

“Are you a full time personal trainer?” Sasha questions.

“You can say that.” Shea replies.

“Are you always not talkative?” Sasha shoots back.

“I like fashion. I design clothes, shoes, and so on. In my free time.” Shea confesses.

“You made these boots.” Sasha states, like what she said is the most known fact of the century.

“Found a plain knee hight Black boots at a dump, and queered them up.” Shea laughs.

Hearing her laughter, Sasha forgets to breathe for a second.

They don’t say much after that, because they arrive to Shea’s place.

They park outside a somewhat old yet renovated building.

Shea leads, and Sasha follows.

Her apartment is what Sasha expected.

Art pieces and paintings covering the walls. Books on queer feminist theory hugging the floor. And of course, a corner for her fashion inventions.

“I’m sorry I haven’t cleaned up the mess in a while.” Shea shyly apologises as she takes off her coat, revealing a silk olive green tank top, her nipple outlines visible through the thin fabric. No bra. Sasha stares before looking away.

“I like messes. They give me energy.” She quickly says.

Shea just giggles, “why am I not surprised?”

She heads to the open kitchen, “Wanna drink anything?”

Sasha just stares at her.

“Non alcoholic.” Shea adds.

“I’m good, thanks.”

She shrugs before chugging down a glass of what seems like cranberry juice.

She’s back in the living room.

“Do you wanna, like, sit down or something?” She stares at Sasha.

But Sasha doesn’t sit down.

Instead, she walks up to her, and slowly, yet fast enough, plants a kiss on her lips.

Shea smiles when Sasha pulls away.

“You don’t waste time, do you?” She smirks.

Sasha just shakes her head.

Shea holds her hand and leads her into the bedroom.

It’s another big beautiful mess that Sasha embraces.

They sit on the bed, and begin to kiss again, this time with more passion as their hand wrap around each other’s bodies.

Sasha feels the thrill that she hasn’t felt in so long. She’s suddenly so thirsty, so hungry for more. She wants it all, and she wants it now.

She pulls away only to remove the sweater and throws it away.

Shea smirks as she takes off her top, revealing her perky breasts and excited nipples.

Sasha pushes her down on the bed. Face to face, she whispers, “I’ve wanted to do this since I saw you in your tight shorts and sport bra.”

Shea bites her bottom lip, “Show me how much you’ve wanted me.”

Sasha’s eyes widen as her hands move down Shea’s torso to unzip her jeans.

Shea lifts her legs, making it easy for Sasha to remove the last remaining piece of clothing, her lace panties.

When Shea is fully naked, Sasha sits back and take in the view. Shea runs her fingers through her hair revealing her unshaven armpit that matches her unshaven pussy.

“I hope you don’t mind the hair,” Shea whispers.

Sasha doesn’t answer. Instead, she kisses her lips again, hungrily biting on them. Then she moves to her neck, and sucks on it, tasting the vanilla scented body wash that Shea must have used. She bites on her hard nipples, feeling herself get even more wet the more Shea moans.

She leaves a trail of kisses on her belly, waist, inner thighs.

Shea’s moans get louder.

“Please,” She whispers as Sasha’s breath tickle her swollen clit.

Sasha stares at her pussy.

She wants to feel this way always. She wants to feel this alive. Everyday. She wants to be responsible for someone else’s pleasure.

When she tastes her for the first time, she doesn’t stop until Shea is screaming in pleasure, holding on to Sasha’s bald head, pushing her deeper in.

And just when she’s about to cum, Sasha sticks a finger in, intensifying her orgasm.

Shea is left shaken as she rides the end of her orgasm, eyes closed, the widest smile plastered on her face.

Sasha lays next to her, just watching, observing, registering all the details in her brain.

She finally opens her eyes and grins, “What the fuck did you just do to me?”

“Made your dreams come true.” Sasha smirks.

“Let’s see if you’re going to be cocky for long.”

Shea is about to reach over for Sasha’s bra when she suddenly sits up.

“It’s fine. You don’t have to.” Sasha quickly stops her.

“I want to.” Shea clarifies, she’s confused.

Sasha sighs. Of course this was going to happen.

“I have to go.” She jumps out of bed and puts on her sweater, beanie, and shoes.

“You don’t have to leave, we can hang out.” Shea suggests as she puts on a white robe.

“No, I really need to go.” Sasha protests.

“Okay then, let me drive you back.” Shea says.

Sasha looks at her, she can see the disappointment. So she looks away, embarrassed.

“I’ll just take a cab.”

And she takes the cab. And she goes home. And she thinks about not eating.

It finally hits her.

She doesn’t recognise her body anymore.

Her stomach isn’t as flat, and her thighs aren’t as thin. She even has some fat on her arms.

She can’t identify with herself anymore.

She has a panic attack. She can’t breathe, she can’t even scream. She wants to cry, but she’s unable to. She just stands in the middle of her room, gasping for air.

Then she finally breaks down, and cries.

She locks the door. She doesn’t want dinner.

She screams at her grandmother. She threatens to do something bad to herself if her grandmother doesn’t leave the door.

She hates herself. She’s aware that she’s being nasty, unreasonable, and immature.

But she can’t help it.

She forces herself into bed, and hopes to sleep for a month so she can wake up “skinny” again.

She doesn’t eat anything for two days. She doesn’t leave her bed for two days.

The third day, she hears the door being unlocked. Her eyes open as she waits for a hospital staff to come get her. Because clearly she’s unfit. Clearly she’s going back to rehab.

But there is no hospital staff.

It’s just Shea.

She slowly walks up to the bed

Sasha is embarrassed. She wants the ground to swallow her.

She’s about to ask her to leave as Shea sits next to her.

But when she caresses her face, Sasha melts.

They remain silent for a while until Shea speaks up.

“How are you feeling?”

“I don’t want to go back to rehab.” Sasha quickly blurts outs, burying her face in her palm as she sits up.

“You have to eat.” Shea reminds.

“I can’t.” Sasha protests, still not daring to lock eyes with Shea.

“You can, and you will. If you don’t eat, you’re going back into treatment.” Shea explains. She sounds stern.

Sasha reveals her face again, “You think I don’t know that?” She is defensive.

“You will die.” Shea announces, “If you don’t eat.”

“Maybe I should die.” Sasha gets up and walks towards the window. She stands there, watching the sun sets.

“Grow the fuck up.” Shea shouts.

Sasha is shocked. She turns around quickly, facing.

“You font understand, and you never will.” She says calmly, fighting the tears in her eyes.

Shea rolls her eyes, and let’s out out a disappointed sad laughter.

She seems upset.

“I’ve had bulimia.” She confesses, “For most of my life actually.”

Sasha was not prepared to hear that. She’s about to apologise when Shea speak again.

“I grew the fuck up, and learned how to deal with it. You know why?” Shea asks, but quickly answers, “Because I want to be alive. I want to be in this world.”

Hearing her words, suddenly everything that she’s bottled inside comes out.

It comes out in the form of tears.

She doesn’t even know if she wants to live, but she knows that she needs to feel Shea’s lips again.

So she sits on the bed next to her, and just leans in.

The kiss is burning slow, calming yet exhilarating at the same time.

Shea doesn’t take permission as she slowly slides her hand inside Sasha’s sweatpants. Sasha doesn’t stop her, because this time her bodily desires are too strong to tame.

She doesn’t move her mouth from Shea’s mouth as she fingers her.

That’s when she discovers her talented fingers.

Sasha’s tears haven’t even dried out on her cheeks as she rides her orgasm refusing to stop tongue battling with Shea.

She throws herself at Shea, wrapping her arms around her neck.

In effect her post bliss, she looks into Shea’s dark eyes, and realises something.

She realises that even if she’s lost and uncertain about the world, she will still take a chance only to have this moment again. And again. And again.

———

#sashea #lesbian au #wordsmithmaybe #smut #angst #comfort #sasha velour #shea coulee #rpdr fanfiction #submission

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approximatelyarticulated · 7 years

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I think it’s sort of fucked-up that people literally have entire blogs dedicated to “ace discourse,” which in this particular case means them being extremely critical of the ace community. (This is also a phenomenon that happens with anti-kink or “kink-critical” blogs. I’m not sure if there are any other identity labels this happens with; these are the only two I’ve noticed so far.)

Like. Listen. I’m asexual, and I think there are a lot of competing access needs between the queer community (or more specifically, homo-/bi-/poly-/pan-sexual and/or -romantic people) and the ace community (though of course there are people with mixed orientations). For instance, many asexual people want (and deserve) spaces where they don’t have to see/read about sex. Meanwhile, many queer people, due to queerphobia, have experienced shame over their attraction - a part of which is sexual - to certain genders. They want a place to celebrate their sexuality and not feel ashamed of that. These two things can conflict sometimes. Furthermore, there is a certain extreme sect of ace-rights politics, if we might call it that, that absolutely vilifies allosexual people for experiencing sexual attraction (and, correspondingly, a certain extreme sect of aro-rights politics that does the same thing with alloromantic people). I think this vilification is drawn from a legitimate criticism of society’s over-focus on romantic and sexual relationships, but certainly people take it too far sometimes. It is absolutely valid to criticize this kind of ace-aro politics, and a lot of nuance is required in trying to be inclusive of both queer people (assuming “queer” here doesn’t inherently include aces and aros) and asexual people. And sometimes, these two groups really do just need different spaces.

All that being said, the “acecourse” trend really bothers and upsets me. The general trend of these blogs seems to be going far beyond mere criticism of certain ace politics and instead ridiculing the very existence of asexual people altogether. Half the time I’m convinced that these people don’t even think asexuality is a real thing, and even if they do think it’s a real thing, they seem to be super gatekeep-y in the sense that they suggest that the grand majority of people who identify as asexual (or a-spec) are not “really” asexual.

Like, buddy, that’s not for you to decide. I just get really frustrated when I see people, in any context, trying to tell others, “I, a complete stranger to you, know your own experiences better than you do.” That’s really fucked-up, and worryingly close to gaslighting. Listen, I’m sure there are people who actually experience an average level/frequency of sexual attraction but nonetheless call themselves “demisexual” or “graysexual” because they don’t realize that what they experience is extremely common. However, I’m also baffled by people who suggest that it is impossible to be anywhere on the ace spectrum at all, that you’re either asexual or you aren’t. Surely there are people who experience sexual attraction significantly more rarely than most others do without being 100% asexual. Human sexuality is incredibly varied and complex. (And in any case, it doesn’t matter if you think somebody is incorrect about their sexuality. It doesn’t matter if you think they’re misinterpreting their experiences. It is so, so far from your place to tell them that.) Those people have every right to affix a certain label to themselves in order to communicate that they feel “different” from the norm. Now, whether or not asexuals (and, more pertinently, graysexuals - these people seem to be whom “ace-critical” people are the most concerned about) are “oppressed” is a completely distinct issue. I think that’s a legitimate discussion to be had, but asking whether or not a-spec people are oppressed is not the same fucking question as asking if they exist. Somebody saying “I’m a heteroromantic demisexual” is not the same thing as somebody saying “I believe that I am just as oppressed as lesbians [for example] are.” And whether or not asexuals and aromantics are queer is also another legitimate discussion to be had. But once again, it is not the same thing as asking whether or not they exist, and I’d really like people to stop clumping all these issues together.

A lot of this seems to trade on the popular concept that it doesn’t matter how mean you are to people as long as you don’t consider them to be “oppressed.” People’s differences and idiosyncrasies are only to be respected and cherished if we can definitively prove that they are systematically oppressed for those differences. Otherwise, if we deem people sufficiently “weird,” we get to ridicule every aspect of their existence.

I just... don’t get what is so hard about respecting the way that people identify and label themselves, as long as they aren’t hurting anyone. And if you seriously think that there are significant problems with certain kinds of asexual activism, then fine! Let’s have a conversation about that! But if you’re going to mock asexual people for their very identity, well, I don’t think the most productive discussion is going to follow. I personally don’t have a lot of interest in discoursing with people who ridicule what, to me, is a serious part of my identity, and I wouldn’t blame other aces (and aros) for doing the same.

#asexuality #social justice

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readbookywooks · 7 years

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The Last Stage

It was on May the First that the two came back at last to the brink of the valley of Rivendell, where stood the Last (or the First) Homely House. Again it was evening, their ponies were tired, especially the one that carried the baggage; and they all felt in need of rest. As they rode down the steep path, Bilbo heard the elves still singing in the trees, as if they had not stopped since he left; and as soon as their riders came down into the lower glades of the wood they burst into a song of much the same kind as before. This is something like it: "The dragon is withered, His bones are now crumbled; His armour is shivered, His splendour is humbled! Though sword shall be rusted, And throne and crown perish With strength that men trusted And wealth that they cherish, Here grass is still growing, And leaves are yet swinging, The white water flowing, And elves are yet singing Come! Tra-la-la-lally! Come back to the valley! The stars are far brighter Than gems without measure, The moon is far whiter Than silver in treasure: The fire is more shining On hearth in the gloaming Than gold won by mining, So why go a-roaming? O! Tra-la-la-lally Come back to the Valley. O! Where are you going, So late in returning? The river is flowing, The stars are all burning! O! Whither so laden, So sad and so dreary? Here elf and elf-maiden Now welcome the weary With Tra-la-la-lally Come back to the Valley, Tra-la-la-lally Fa-la-la-lally Fa-la!" Then the elves of the valley came out and greeted them and led them across the water to the house of Elrond. There a warm welcome was made them, and there were many eager ears that evening to hear the tale of their adventures. Gandalf it was who spoke, for Bilbo was fallen quiet and drowsy. Most of the tale he knew, for he had been in it, and had himself told much of it to the wizard on their homeward way or in the house of Beorn; but every now and again he would open one eye, and listen, when a part of the story which he did not yet know came in. It was in this way that he learned where Gandalf had been to; for he overheard the words of the wizard to Elrond. It appeared that Gandalf had been to a great council of the white wizards, masters of lore and good magic; and that they had at last driven the Necromancer from his dark hold in the south of Mirkwood. "Ere long now," Gandalf was saying, "The Forest will grow somewhat more wholesome. The North will be freed from that horror for many long years, I hope. Yet I wish he were banished from the world!" "It would be well indeed," said Elrond; "but I fear that will not come about in this age of the world, or for many after." When the tale of their joumeyings was told, there were other tales, and yet more tales, tales of long ago, and tales. of new things, and tales of no time at all, till Bilbo's head fell forward on his chest, and he snored comfortably in a corner. He woke to find himself in a white bed, and the moon shining through an open window. Below it many elves were singing loud and clear on the banks of the stream. "Sing all ye joyful, now sing all together? The wind's in the free-top, the wind's in the heather; The stars are in blossom, the moon is in flower, And bright are the windows of Night in her tower. Dance all ye joyful, now dance all together! Soft is the grass, and let foot be like feather! The river is silver, the shadows are fleeting; Merry is May-time, and merry our meeting. Sing we now softly, and dreams let us weave him! Wind him in slumber and there let us leave him! The wanderer sleepeth. Now soft be his pillow! Lullaby! Lullaby! Alder and Willow! Sigh no more Pine, till the wind of the morn! Fall Moon! Dark be the land! Hush! Hush! Oak, Ash, and Thorn! Hushed be all water, till dawn is at hand!" "Well, Merry People!" said Bilbo looking out. "What time by the moon is this? Your lullaby would waken a drunken goblin! Yet I thank you." "And your snores would waken a stone dragon - yet we thank you," they answered with laughter. "It is drawing towards dawn, and you have slept now since the night's beginning. Tomorrow, perhaps, you will be cured of weariness." "A little sleep does a great cure in the house of Elrond," said he; "but I will take all the cure I can get. A second good night, fair friends!" And with that he went back to bed and slept till late morning. Weariness fell from him soon in that house, and he had many a merry jest and dance, early and late, with the elves of the valley. Yet even that place could not long delay him now, and he thought always of his own home. After a week, therefore, he said farewell to Elrond, and giving him such small gifts as he would accept, he rode away with Gandalf. Even as they left the valley the sky darkened in the West before them, and wind and rain came up to meet them. "Merry is May-time!" said Bilbo, as the rain beat into his face. "But our back is to legends and we are coming home. I suppose this is a first taste of it." "There is a long road yet," said Gandalf. "But it is the last road," said Bilbo. They came to the river that marked the very edge of the borderland of the Wild, and to the ford beneath the steep bank, which you may remember. The water was swollen both with the melting of the snows at the approach of summer, and with the daylong rain; but they crossed with some difficulty, and pressed forward, as evening fell, on the last stage of their journey. This was much as it had been before, except that the company was smaller, and more silent; also this time there were no trolls. At each point on the road Bilbo recalled the happenings and the words of a year ago-it seemed to him more like ten-so that, of course, he quickly noted the place where the pony had fallen in the river, and they had turned aside for their nasty adventure with Tom and Bert and Bill. Not far from the road they found the gold of the trolls, which they had buried, still hidden and untouched. "I have enough to last me my time," said Bilbo, when they had dug it up. "You had better take this, Gandalf. I daresay you can find a use for it." "Indeed I can!" said the wizard. "But share and share alike! You may find you have more needs than you expect." So they put the gold in bags and slung them on the ponies, who were not at all pleased about it. After that their going was slower, for most of the time they walked. But the land was green and there was much grass through which the hobbit strolled along contentedly. He mopped his face with a red silk handkerchief-no! not a single one of his own had survived, he had borrowed this one from Elrond -for now June had brought summer, and the weather was bright and hot again. As all things come to an end, even this story, a day came at last when they were in sight of the country where Bilbo had been born and bred, where the shapes of the land and of the trees were as well known to him as his hands and toes. Coming to a rise he could see his own Hill in the distance, and he stopped suddenly and said: "Roads go ever ever on, Over rock and under tree, By caves where never sun has shone, By streams that never find the sea; Over snow by winter sown, And through the merry flowers of June, Over grass and over stone, And under mountains in the moon. Roads go ever ever on Under cloud and under star, Yet feet that wandering have gone Turn at last to home afar. Eyes that fire and sword have seen And horror in the halls of stone Look at last on meadows green And trees and hills they long have known." Gandalf looked at him. "My dear Bilbo!" he said. "Something is the matter with you! You are not the hobbit that you were." And so they crossed the bridge and passed the mill by the river and came right back to Bilbo's own door. "Bless me! What's going on?" he cried. There was a great commotion, and people of all sorts, respectable and unrespectable, were thick round the door, and many were going in and out-not even wiping their feet on the mat, as Bilbo noticed with annoyance. If he was surprised, they were more surprised still. He had arrived back in the middle of an auction! There was a large notice in black and red hung on the gate, stating that on June the Twenty-second Messrs. Grubb, Grubb, and Bun-owes would sell by auction the effects of the late Bilbo Baggins Esquire, of Bag-End, Underhill, Hobbiton. Sale to commence at ten o'clock sharp. It was now nearly lunch-time, and most of the things had already been sold, for various prices from next to nothing to old songs (as is not unusual at auctions). Bilbo's cousins the Sackville-Bagginses were, in fact, busy measuring his rooms to see if their own furniture would fit. In short Bilbo was "Presumed Dead," and not everybody that said so was sorry to find the presumption wrong. The return of Mr. Bilbo Baggins created quite a disturbance, both under the Hill and over the Hill, and across the Water; it was a great deal more than a nine days' wonder. The legal bother, indeed, lasted for years. It was quite a long time before Mr. Baggins was in fact admitted to be alive again. The people who had got specially good bargains at the Sale took a deal of convincing; and in the end to sav6 time Bilbo had to buy back quite a lot of his own furniture. Many of his silver spoons mysteriously disappeared and were never accounted for. Personally he suspected the Sackville-Bagginses. On their side they never admitted that the returned Baggins was genuine, and they were not on friendly terms with Bilbo ever after. They really had wanted to live inhis nice hobbit-hole so very much. Indeed Bilbo found he had lost more than spoons - he had lost his reputation. It is true that for ever after he remained an elf-friend, and had the honour of dwarves, wizards, and all such folk as ever passed that way; but he was no longer quite respectable. He was in fact held by all the hobbits of the neighbourhood to be 'queer'-except by his nephews and nieces on the Took side, but even they were not encouraged in their friendship by their elders. I am sorry to say he did not mind. He was quite content; and the sound of the kettle on his hearth was ever after more musical than it had been even in the quiet days before the Unexpected Party. His sword he hung over the mantelpiece. His coat of mail was arranged on a stand in the hall (until he lent it to a Museum). His gold and silver was largely spent in presents, both useful and extravagant - which to a certain extent accounts for the affection of his nephews and his nieces. His magic ring he kept a great secret, for he chiefly used it when unpleasant callers came. He took to writing poetry and visiting the elves; and though many shook their heads and touched their foreheads and said "Poor old Baggins!" and though few believed any of his tales, he remained very happy to the end of his days, and those were extraordinarily long. One autumn evening some years afterwards Bilbo was sitting in his study writing his memoirs - he thought of calling them "There and Back Again, a Hobbit's Holiday" - when there was a ring at the door. It was Gandalf and a dwarf; and the dwarf was actually Balin. "Come in! Come in!" said Bilbo, and soon they were settled in chairs by the fire. If Balin noticed that Mr. Baggins' waistcoat was more extensive (and had real gold buttons), Bilbo also noticed that Balm's beard was several inches longer, and his jewelled belt was of great magnificence. They fell to talking of their times together, of course, and Bilbo asked how things were going in the lands of the Mountain. It seemed they were going very well. Bard had rebuilt the town in Dale and men had gathered to him from the Lake and from South and West, and all the valley had become tilled again and rich, and the desolation was now filled with birds and blossoms in spring and fruit and feasting in autumn. And Lake-town was refounded and was more prosperous than ever, and much wealth went up and down the Running River; and there was friendship in those parts between elves and dwarves and men. The old Master had come to a bad end. Bard had given him much gold for the help of the Lake-people, but being of the kind that easily catches such disease he fell under the dragon-sickness, and took most of the gold and fled with it, and died of starvation in the Waste, deserted by his companions. "The new Master is of wiser kind," said Balin, "and very popular, for, of course, he gets most of the credit for the present prosperity. They are making songs which say that in his day the rivers run with gold." "Then the prophecies of the old songs have turned out to be true, after a fashion!" said Bilbo. "Of course!" said Gandalf. "And why should not they prove true? Surely you don't disbelieve the prophecies, because you had a hand in bringing them about yourself? You don't really suppose, do you, that all your adventures and escapes were managed by mere luck, just for your sole benefit? You are a very fine person, Mr. Baggins, and I am very fond of you; but you are only quite a little fellow in a wide world after all!" "Thank goodness!" said Bilbo laughing, and handed him the tobacco-jar.

#Hobbit

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