#personally i think i'm overdone

[jesusworesandals]

[baphometsss]

if i see one more post about how solas/mythal/elgar'nan had a weird love triangle thing going on i'm gonna scream

[themintman]

My opinions on some ships and characters 😼😼😼

Ill explain some stuff in the tags if yall are curious hehe ALSO IN THE REBLOGS. TUMBLR SILENCED ME 😔💔

Template by @stervil !!!

[novadreii]

new deadpool movie is just. hey, i'm deadpool, and i'm breaking the 4th wall! every 4 seconds! also: here's a vague critique of a Big Corporate Bad. oh and a meme. you like that, don't you? isn't that funny? are you laughing harder than you've ever laughed in your life, you fuck? are you pissing yourself laughing???

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

thinking about superheroes unfortunately

[autumnrory]

fic rec

title: And You May Find Yourself author: roguewrld pairing: steve/bucky words: 16442 summary: "There’s two possibilities here. One, I’m right and none of this is real, which makes this morning some pretty elaborate masturbation. Or two, you’re right, all of this is real and you and your Steve Rogers share a life in that apartment. In that case, I’m sure I’m generous enough to share with myself." Steve wakes up in the year 2025, with Bucky beside him in bed and a life that's just a little too good to be true. ao3

[tizeline]

Presenting: The AU I accidentally created OOPSIE!! 😬😬😬

And yes, I know, it's another Seperation AU, and yes YES, I KNOW, they're a bit overdone at this point, bUT LISTEN!! That's precisely how I ended up in this situation!!!

So there's a lot of Seperation AUs exploring a lot of different scenarios with the turtles being raised, well, seperately. I've seen quite a few of them at this point, and despite whatever the combination is when it comes to turtle + parental figure, I'm sure I'm not the only one who has noticed a pattern of specifically Donnie often being raised by a villain. Which makes sense, he has a tendency to put on this evil-mad-scientist-act in the show, so of course a lot of us want to see what Donnie would actually be like as a proper antagonist. But that just made me think think of the opposite possibility, of Donnie being the singular good guy while his brothers are all bad guys. Mind you, I'm sure SOMEONE must've thought of this concept before me, but I haven't seen it! So here we are!

In this AU (which doesn't have a name so don't ask!) Splinter only managed to yoink Donnie during The Incident™, so he ended up an only child, while Raph, Leo and Mikey were raised by Draxum. I also imagine Draxum being at least a decent dad considering the circumstances, so the kids he raised ended up with pretty similar personalities to what they have in canon.

Because of that we get Hero Donnie who acts all villainous cuz he's a total theaterkid, and Villain Raph, Leo and Mikey who act all heroic cuz they honestly believe they're doing the right thing in literally destroying all of humankind and as a result developed an intense case of main character syndrome.

Anyway here's some references-

I don't know how far I'll explore this AU. I fully intended to just make like one or two posts rambling about the basic concept, but when I was drawing these images my brain went into full Brain Blast mode and I started coming up with a bunch of other ideas so uh... we'll see how this turns out later I guess haha

[thenationofzaun]

The Vander/Silco Shitshow - generic, juvenile, and gimmicky slop

So, I think that Vander/Silco flashback was terrible. Tropey, careless, juvenile, clichéd bullshit that stripped away everything that made their season 1 story nuanced and poignant, while simultaneously ripping open a fat plot hole because the team got careless and did not catch the discrepancy between the story they'd written in their heads and the visuals that ended up on screen in season 1. This is just going to be a long rant post detailing the reasons I absolutely despised this flashback. Obligatory disclaimer that this is just my (strongly held) opinion.

1) The timeline plot hole

No, I'm not misusing the term. So a plot hole is an inconsistency in a fictional narrative that cannot be explained away by any plausible in-universe justifications. There are many moments of weak writing in Arcane that may be contrived, rushed, weird, convenient, etc. but aren't plot holes.

This Vander/Silco situation however. Oh boy. If you all remember, Season 1 opened with the bridge massacre, also known as the Day of Ash. Vander is shown cracking enforcers' skulls. He looks like this.

The sisters, seemingly recognizing him, ask him where their parents are. He gestures to their corpses, the sisters cry, Vander has his "violence is not the answer" epiphany, drops the gauntlets very dramatically to underscore this massive turning point of character development for him, then picks the girls up and leaves the bridge.

In episode 3, we are shown a flashback. Vander is trying to kill Silco in the river. He looks like this.

Let's compare this to how he looked like on the Day of Ash.

Yeah. According to the visuals shown in Season 1, the falling out of Vander and Silco seems to have occured in the past before the Day of Ash, evidenced by how much younger Vander looks. Unless Silco is a time traveller who jumped forward to the future to throw a molotov at the riot because he just loves violent extremism that much, or Vander took the time to shave his beard and apply heavy duty anti-aging lotion on his face before hunting Silco down, there are no plausible in-universe explanations for this inconsistency. Not to mention, if Silco and Vander were really as close as brothers and the sisters knew Vander, then it's impossible they wouldn't have known who Silco was.

Yet, in Season 1, that's exactly what we see - not a single sliver of recognition between Silco and the girls, nothing to imply they knew of his existence before episode 3. Not a single conversation between Jinx and Silco implied that he knew, let alone was close to, her mother. Nothing from Vi throughout the entire first season indicated that she knew of his past friendships with her mother and Vander. They acted like total strangers to each other.

Many fans already caught this inconsistency during the three-year gap after writers' comments online implied Silco was involved in the Day of Ash. We had hoped the writers would catch on to this discrepancy too and either iron out the timeline if they want to do serious flashbacks, or just avoid calling attention to it completely by not doing flashbacks of their falling out. Alas.

2) Leonardo Dicaprio pointing meme

Death to the everybody-knows-everyone trope and lines that only exist to invoke the "Leonardo Dicaprio pointing" meme. Throw them into a fucking fire. Boring, mind-numbing, clichéd, overdone garbage. Not every character needs to have some kind of half-baked relation with each other. Not every major incident needs to be tied back to the main characters. Not every single detail needs to be overexplained and justified and again, somehow tied to a main character. They are unnecessary, and make the world feel so much more claustrophobic and smaller than it should be.

"The enforcers actually commited the Day of Ash massacre because SILCO threw a molotov. Vander actually tried to kill Silco because of VI AND JINX'S mother. She knew both Silco and Vander personally and TOLD THEM to help her raise her kids. VANDER named Vi."

Bullshit like this really fucks with immersion, because it becomes clear very quickly that the world is only occupied by a small handful of real characters while the thousands of other people in it are nothing more than inconsequential set dressing and wallpaper. The story and world no longer feel real, vast, and immersive. And these forced "connections" between main characters are so obviously manufactured to generate "OUGHHH" and Dicaprio pointing reactions. Idk about anyone else, but it takes me completely out of the story when I can obviously tell the writing is trying too hard to blow my mind.

The girls' mom waltzing up to Vander and Silco and just. Fucking telling them to help her with her kids lmfaoooooooo. (OUGHH and they both really ended up raising her kids WOAGH😱🤯). Jinx's mom saying choosing a name is stressful because her child will feel stuck with it (GASP and Powder ended up changing her name WOOOOWW😱). Vander coming up with Vi's fucking name. (OUGHHHH HE REALLY WAS MEANT TO BE FATHER ALL ALONG WOADGHHGHDHDH🤯🤯🤯).

Fucking kill me. Arcane Season 1 was surprisingly good precisely because they DIDN'T, for the most part, resort to tropey bullshit like this. It had, for the most part, originality. Uniqueness. In fact all the strongest aspects of Season 1, aspects I loved, were deliberate subversions of overdone clichés. For Season 2 to resort to this kind of writing reminiscent of Disney slop is insanely disappointing.

I'm waiting for a character to unironically say, "What are we, some kind of League of Legends?" in Act 3 now.

3) "Ohhhhh so THAT'S why he did that!!!!!!!!!"

Also death to overexplanations and giving justifications for things that never needed justifications. You know what I was never confused by while watching Season 1 of Arcane? Why Vander adopted the girls. Why Silco adopted Jinx. Why both came to care for their girls so much, they were willing to sacrifice so much for them. I thought the reasons for those things were very clear and poignant in the first season. I never needed an extra on-the-nose justification for the adoptions in the form of, "they wuved yo mama". It's not only redundant, it's also one of the most tired ass tropes in fiction. To me, Vander taking in the girls and Silco taking in Jinx are so much more powerful if they really were just random guys with no real connection to the girls' parents.

But I've already seen some positive reactions to this flashback with "Ohhhhh so THAT's why Silco/Vander cared for the girls so much, now I understand😯🤯😓" mf what exactly did you not understand before??

4) Character motivations

The motivations of both Vander and Silco are made downright bizarre by this flashback. So Silco was hellbent on murdering Vi last season, despite being close friends with her mom whose death he may feel guilty for? Literally despised her and wanted to kill her the entire time with no hesitation lol. So Vander had that aforementioned dramatic moment of character development, dropped the gauntlets, realized violence wasn't the answer, and carried the kids to safety... then doubled back to violently hunt down and murder Silco? But not before shaving his beard and applying youthful lotion of course. Can't kill your bro while looking crusty. Then he failed to kill Silco so he just... went back to the kids and pretended like nothing happened? Lol.

Silco being close to, let alone loving, the girls' parents makes no fucking sense for his character. Vander knowing them at least makes sense, but casual friends would have sufficed. "I was lowkey crushing (?????) on your mom and also named you" just cheapened the entire Vander/Vi and Silco/Jinx surrogate father dynamic. Vander's motivation for killing Silco being yet another fridged woman is also weak as fuck. First Viktor with Sky, and now Vander/Silco. They really should have left this one up to our imaginations if this was the boring tripe they came up with.

[alexanderwales]

Zombie fiction has a problem, which is that in the real world, zombie fiction exists.

So you have two basic approaches: either you have the protagonists and general public say "what's happening, why are the dead rising, I got bit but I'm going to be fine", or you have the protagonists say "this is so weird, it's just like in all that zombie fiction!"

These are both annoying in their own way, but I find the latter approach to be more deeply irritating, personally, the kind of meta that's just lazy and overdone in spite of not having been done all that often.

This is a problem that notably doesn't exist in most other genres. People go to look up vampires on their computer all the time, and they say "wait, the legends are true??", and the vampire says "I did not like our depiction in Nosferatu very much". This is totally fine, the legends bled into popular culture or whatever. But zombie fiction is among those that can't do this, because it's a different kind of story, and there's no hiding it, no covering it up. If zombies were in any way real there would be mandatory training on how to kill them and CDC warnings and structural responses, which does substantially take away from the genre.

Now, would I read a zombie story that took place in a world where zombie outbreaks were a semi-regular occurrence with policies and procedures and discourse and training? Yeah, I guess, if it was well-written. But most of the long-running zombie stories get there eventually, once all the survivors have been doing the survival thing, and I can think of a few examples. It's hard to get right, much harder than the "what is happening, what is this" sort of story.

[homunculus-argument]

I actually will probably never get tired of POV protagonists who glaringly lack self-awareness. I don't care how overdone it is, give me a mf who'll boldly announce "I don't think I'm particularly attractive, I am actually quite plain - anyway there's like three people currently fighting over me, and one who's going through a whole Identity Crisis Character Arc over their sexual orientation because they want me so bad. Also I'm not a particularly good or selfless person - yeah I ran into a burning building to save the life of someone I don't even like, but I hesitated for a second before I did so and therefore it doesn't count. Anyway I am extremely perceptive, and nothing gets past me, this giant neon sign above my head that reads 'BEHOLD THE DIPSHIT WHO KEEPS STANDING RIGHT BELOW' probably has nothing to do with me."

Protagonists who make me roll their eyes at them are fun to read. Write more characters whose only fault and character flaw is the fact that they're fucking stupid.

[neil-gaiman]

Hello Mr Neil,

I want to share how I feel about Sherryl the supermodel from Good Omens. You've answered a question previously when someone felt that her representation was lacking empathy (re the visual effects note in the script book, although the scene was cut), and I want to offer my thoughts to help people who felt that way about Sherryl.

The book (Good Omens, not the scripts, which I haven't read) plays with dark topics and makes them absurd and fun, aiming the jabs at the systems that (mis)guide or harm people (there are Beliefs, the People who Believe them, and the odd ways of living that make sense to them). Famine's D-Plan sums up the diet industry and a culture of starvation: of course we don't laugh /at/ Sherryl, we understand (because of everything the novel sets up) that like every other human she does her best with the frameworks she's got. It's empathetic, because that's what Good Omens is. Understanding that let me reframe the knee-jerk reaction I had on my first read of the scene in the book.

[For the TV show, though, as you've explained in the past, certain things had to be adapted to the time. I wonder sometimes - because I know that you do these things well - how you felt about approaching Sherryl nearly 30 years later.]

I think the trouble for me was that the scene in the book felt cruel at first. Now, I think 'A skeleton in a Dior dress' beautifully sums up the sacrifice of her humanity to become New York's top model. It's death dressed up - that's how such extremely-ill supermodels *should* appear to us if only we were unblinkered. One should see plainly the actual violence in an emaciated person's appearance. Maybe growing up with early 2000s aggressive body-shaming British TV shows and an overweight mother of Sherryl's generation as well as personal experience of anorexia made the 'skeleton' image feel cruel, now-overdone and recognisable to the nastiest unhealed bits in my psyche.

I think the frightened human animal in me initially recoiled from the dehumanisation. The pit of me jerked at the descriptions of Sherryl that felt like real insults, pulled straight from mainstream body-shaming media of my formative years. Of course, Good Omens predates this - thin was in, religiously, and the scene was subversive then - but that was my initial bodily feeling, not a thoughtful response. I describe it to illustrate where the challenge was, after we've gone from skinny worship in the 90s, to domestic skinny enforcement, to skinny shame, to wherever we are now in the popular orthorexic fitness culture and clean-eating minefield etc etc. Starvation dehumanises, and Sherryl was sick to the point of being inhuman - the scene under a microscope might feel complicit in dehumanisation to the sensibilities of teens and young adults today (for the same reason that people in Trafalgar Square can't see England), but within the book it humanises Sherryl by showing you plainly what awful thing has happened to her.

What the book did for me was let me delight in a sense of humour that makes difficult things totally absurd and therefore perfectly understandable. It told me, everyone is doing their best (to the best of their understanding), and when the fun-poking poked at my own pressure points, it said, lovingly, yes, you too. Many things about the book are like laughing with a friend or receiving a warm hug - it makes the big things so silly, and shared, and okay.

Thanks :) x <3

I am glad that is how you saw her. That is how we saw her. (I'm reminded of the only time I was ever at a high fashion event, where I found myself profoundly shocked by the incredible thinness of the models, and how sorry for them I felt, and how I wanted to feed them soup and stew and sandwiches. And of a high fashion model I knew a little, when she went out with a friend of mine, who told me that some girls she knew used heroin to stop the hunger pains, injecting themselves between their toes, and later I learned that my friend broke up with her when he learned she was a heroin addict.)

[mamisfavmosher]

Heyyy I just read your poly judgment day x reader, and I was wondering if I could request something. Could you write something in poly? Judgment Day gets jealous.

I KNOW I KNOW the jealous trope is basic and overdone, but I love it. Could it end in SFW? We all love a bit of NSFW, but I rarely see people write the Jealous trope without making it NSFW.

so I'm thinking something before the time of JD being in the Judgment Day because I wanna write it in a way that Damian is even more pissed because it's JD trying to get with their girl...

thief in the clubhouse // poly!judgment day x fem!reader

warnings: language, a bit violence, mentions of death threats, etc

Readers POV

I was lounging in the Judgment Day's clubhouse backstage at a show, waiting for Rhea and the boys to get back from a segment. Casually scrolling through my phone and listening to their segment on a monitor, I wasn't paying much attention to anything else.

"Hey, beautiful." A voice from the other side of room called out. I quickly looked over to see who was talking and a glare immediately set on my face. JD stood in the doorway, smirking at me, before walking closer to me to sit on the couch I was lounging on.

"What do you want? You're not supposed to be in here." I told him, a hint of warning in my voice. "They'll be back any second." I pointed back toward the screen where the gothic members of the Judgment Day were exiting the ring.

"It's fine! I don't think they'll mind someone loving on their girl while they're gone..." JD said, scooting closer on the couch towards me. My eyebrows instantly furrowed at his words.

"Don't come any closer. And, they definitely would mind!" I gave him a pointed look and moved over a few inches on the couch, suddenly very aware of all his movements.

"Oh, c'mon. I'm practically in the Judgment Day already. Doesn't that mean you're my girl, too?" JD had a sick smirk on his face as he moved to kneel in front of me, grabbing at my hands.

"Don't touch me!" I yelled out and quickly moved toward the door, desperate to get away from him. At the same moment, the door to the clubhouse swung open, Rhea and the boys walking in.

All four of their faces immediately dropped at the sight of JD, death glares of different degrees being sent toward him.

"He tried to touch me!" I yelled toward them, clearly worked up about the situation. "He came in here and wouldn't leave." I watched with wide eyes as Damian stormed over to JD, throwing him against the wall.

"How many times do I have to tell you! You're not welcome here and you're not part of the Judgment Day! And, now you're touching my girl?! Our girl?!" Damian continued slamming him against the wall, lifting him off his feet and holding him by his neck. Rhea, Finn, and Dom ran over to the two men, genuinely fearing for JD.

"Damian!" and "Damian, let him go!" rang out through the clubhouse as the three other members tried to get Damian to loosen his grip on JD's neck.

"You thought you could touch her?!" Damian yelled at JD among other vile threats toward his life. Finn and Rhea were finally able to pull Damian's arms away enough to drop JD to the ground.

"You piece of shit..." Dom sneered and kicked at JD's heaving body.

"If you even think of touching her again... We'll let him kill you." Rhea threatened in a deep tone, warning him of Damian's wrath. "Get out."

JD scrambled to his feet and stumbled out the door, still gasping for air. Finn slammed and locked the door behind him before walking towards me and pulling me into his arms. His hands smoothed over my hair in a comforting manner, resting his chin on my head. I relaxed in his hold, relishing in his warmth.

"I think we should hire a personal bodyguard for her." Rhea said through gritted teeth, still glaring at the door. Dom nodded in agreement and I let out a small giggle at their words.

"I don't need a bodyguard. Besides, Damian would probably try and kill him, too." I laughed out, gently pulling away from Finn to give Damian a hug. He gladly accepted it and held me tightly against him.

"You're ours. Anyone else gets a death threat." Damian muttered in a growl before planting a kiss on the top of my head.

"Not a death sentence?" Dom joked, gently nudging Damian's arm.

"Depends on the crime. She said he tried to touch her. Not that he succeeded." Damian remarked with a grimace. Rhea laughed out loud at his comment.

"Either way, you're fully protected, pretty girl." Rhea said, walking over to kiss my cheek and gently smooth down my hair.

"I love you guys." I said with a sweet smile, making sure to look at all of them. "Thanks for saving me."

"No problem, lass. We'll always be there to save you." Finn said with a smirk, kissing my other cheek.

"Save a kiss for me, guys." Dom complained, running over to plant a small kiss on my lips.

We spent the rest of the night watching the matches on the monitor, cuddled up on the couch. I had never felt more safe and protected.

[hhhijk]

★ : Fuck around and Find out

“ : ‹ mdni | nsfw fic | bottom reader › ”

· Warning — Implied Begging . Degradation/ Humiliation . Exhibitionism . Teasing . Con . Breeding ? . Restraining by the hair . No mention of readers' genitals .

· Note — Can be read as gn!reader or male!reader

— `‹: helo, thank you for the reblogs and likes from the last fic ^o^ <3 I APPRECIATE IT SO MUCH, thx love's :D happy new yr <3 hehe sorry if I'm late, I got the idea (for the title and the fic from @/wxnheart)

It was the last day of the year, and the two of you decided to celebrate at his parent's house. you were so excited to watch the fireworks outside with your boyfriend when the clock strikes 12, but you just had to piss him off.

If the phrase "Fuck around and Find out" was a person, it would be you.

You knew that you shouldn't have done it, but it still didn't stop you from sliding your foot up and down on your lover's legs under the table while you were eating dinner with his relatives. after a while of partying

You may or may not have overdone it, because the next thing you know you were being dragged into the car by your partner, who was left blue-balled by you because you just had to be a fuckin' brat and push his buttons.

He started the car and drove home, giving you the silent treatment. the way home was quiet, with him not even saying a word or sighing. it made you think about the things he'll do to you once, he's got you alone and at his mercy.

★

11:45 pm | On the 31st floor -

“ n— no more....” You whimpered your face pressing against the glass window while, his grip on your hair grew tighter. “ so fuckin' tight...” He said bucking his hips, you looked down and saw thousands of people roaming around waiting for the fireworks display.

He chuckled before saying “Imagine them lookin' up and seein' you get dicked down in front of them huh.... ” “ngh..ahh.. angh.. ” you shrieked, clenchin' around him. “oh... f- fhuck.. you're really gettin' off to this huh?... people w— watchin' you squirm around my cock ... like a slut.” he said with a sadistic grin “you would fuckin' love that, w— wouldn't ya? s— shit.. ”

“ ’m g– guhnna... ngh." you pleaded getting close to your orgasm "You're gonna what baby? hm?” “ gunna cum... please... please let me cum...” you whimpered begging for release, he pounded into you harder and deeper making your head spin, moans spilt out of your mouth, being fucked so dumb you can't even think anymore. feeling his warm seed filling you up to the brim, just in time to hear and see the fireworks and people celebrating.

💤 ; plz i wnt to sleep

[wolfiesmoon]

Who is who again?

Riddle, Vil, Idia (seperately) x gn!reader

i was thinking and thinking and then i remembered that basic overdone fanfiction tropes do in fact exist, so here's a silly lil bodyswap fic for the soul

yuu is a little silly prankster goofster who likes messing around and trolling people in this fic, just saying in advance that i did inject a bit of personality in them

also i apologise if the fanfic becomes confusing to read at any point, it's kind of hard writing the reader's actions while in someone else's body, especially when interacting with the person you're swapped with haha

‧₊˚✩彡 Riddle Rosehearts

"Okay, so you're tellin' me that you're Riddle, and you're the Prefect?" Cater pointed to each of you respectively, still trying to grasp the situation. Trey, Ace and Deuce seemed equaly stumped.

"Yep. I'm not exactly sure what happened, but I'm in Riddle's body now." you replied, shrugging casually. "You shouldn't have told them so early on, Riddle, I wanted to mess around a bit."

"Oh, now I'm very glad I told them so early. Knowing you, you'd cause far too much trouble for me to be able to uphold my reputation." Riddle shuddered, imagining the silly pranks you'd pull on everyone while in his body. Well, I suppose they wouldn't be very silly to him.

"Wait. If I'm in your body, does that..."

You quickly took out Riddle's magical pen and pointed it towards Ace, yelling out "Off with your head!"

To your surprise, it actually worked and Ace had a collar around his neck. So you can use magic now.

"HEY! Why did you do that!?" Ace called you out.

"It's revenge for stealing the bit of food I was saving for last on Friday. And also, I needed someone to test out whether I can use magic now." you smirked mischeviously at his annoyance. Now this is fun.

"This still feels unreal. I cannot believe I'm looking at myself talking to someone else. And fooling around like an idiot, too." Riddle did not seem amused.

"Listen, okay, I finally have magic now and I'm gonna take advantage of that. Which means you better run, Cater." you rubbed your hands together evilly.

"What?! Why me?!" Cater was not prepared for this attack.

"Too much magicam. Not enough reality. Collar needed." you explain like a robot overlord and point Riddle's magical pen at Cater.

"Now, now, let's not do that, okay?" Trey gently wrapped his hand around the magical pen in your outstretched hand, smiling at you.

You were about to shake his hand off and proceed with your collaring plan, but you got a better idea.

"No, no, you're right." you shook your head, lowering your hand. Cater breathed a sigh of relief.

"Since I'm Riddle and all, I have to uphold a perfect test score on every test." everyone looked at you, wondering where you were going with this.

"This might be an awkward time to mention that I haven't studied for tommorow's test at all."

"Oh, no. Absolutely not. You are coming with me." Riddle was not about to let his grades slip by such a wide margin. He'll make you memorise things until atleast a 90% is guaranteed, as much as he would hate to get one.

Originally, he was going to try and figure out how to switch you back as soon as possible but that'll have to wait after tommorow it seems.

"WAIT, CAN YOU LIKE, ATLEAST REMOVE THIS COLLAR BEFORE YOU LEAVE?!" Ace yelled behind you but you just whistled innocently, not paying attention to his despair.

.

"That's how the Queen's succesor managed to- are you even listening?"

"You know, it looks kind of funny when I'm being scolded by myself." you yawned, placing your chin on your arms which were currently crossed on the table.

"This is NO laughing matter. My grades are at stake here." Riddle scolded you some more. You nodded sleepily and he took that as a sign to continue.

"So as I was saying- What are you doing now?" Riddle followed your line of sight, his gaze falling on the mirror inside his room. You were looking at him?

"Woah... You're, like, actually pretty cute." you turned back to him, excited at your discovery.

"...What are you blabbering on about? This is NO time to be fooling around, as I have been telling you for the past- Wow, you really are hopeless." Riddle sighed, watching you examine his face in his mirror and still not listening to the magical history lesson.

It does not help at all that you made him lose composure with that "cute" comment.

"Your eyelashes are nice." You comment, smiling at your own reflection.

"What an oddly specific compliment." Still, Riddle felt all weird inside when you said that. This is not fair. Now he can't focus on teaching you anymore.

"It's not oddly specific, really. Guys have really great eyelashes sometimes." You batted your lashes at the mirror and then at him, trying to showcase his charm.

"That is... very strange. Please stop that." Riddle still felt weird about seeing his own face make such silly expressions.

"Hey, if I were in my own body right now I would be swooning over you. Just for your information." You rolled your eyes playfully, entirely insistant on getting out of studying by flustering the hell out of poor Riddle.

"Wha- That's it, off with your-" Riddle reached for the magical pen which would normally be in one's pocket, only to realise that you don't even own one. Of course.

"Oh, Riddle. You silly goose. I'm the one in power here." You intertwined your fingers like a supervillain.

"Please, let's just get back to studying." If Riddle were in his own body right now, his face would be red all over from embarrasment.

"If you insist." You sighed in feigned defeat, your mind already cooking up more plans to embarrass Riddle while you're in his body.

How very fun indeed.

"Why are you smiling at me like that? That kind of smile does not suit my face." Riddle seemed concerned about his body's fate.

"Hmmm, I wonder how many drinks I can order at the Mostro lounge in one sitting." You wondered aloud on purpose.

"What?!"

"What? I didn't even say anything this time." you faked your innocence.

This is going to be a nightmare for Riddle, isn't it?

‧₊˚✩彡 Vil Schoenheit

"Oh. My. God." you lightly slapped your cheeks while looking at yourself in the mirror to make sure this is reality.

Well, you suppose they aren't exactly your cheeks. You're currently inside Vil freaking Schoenheit's body and you have no idea how it happened.

You do suppose all logic kind of gets thrown out the window in a world where magic exists, so swapping bodies with someone might not be that outlandish. Now you wonder if you're the only one who this happened to, and what your body is up to.

Speaking of being Vil Schoenheit now, does that mean you have to uphold his insanely strict daily routine now?

Nah, who are you kidding? You're going to cause as much trouble as you can for this pretty boy. He wakes up much earlier than you thought, so you don't know what to do right now. You walk around his room, inspecting every corner for some prank ammunition.

Rook knocked on the door all of a sudden, telling Vil that he's worried since he's taking longer than usual. You let him into the room.

You decided that you're not going to tell anyone that you're actually not Vil and and act as him for as long as you possibly can.

"Oh, I was just... thinking about something." you grinned evilly at the mirror, before turning back to face Rook.

"Oh my, it seems you were so lost in thought that you've completely forgone doing your hair and makeup. Quite the unpleasant surprise. What troubles you so?" Rook seemed utterly hearbroken.

Wow, he's blunt sometimes. Not that you care about that right now.

"I was just thinking that I'll probably skip all that today. You know, going for a natural look." You twirled a piece of Vil's hair in your hand.

Rook tried convincing you otherwise but you shooed him out, not wanting to hear anything about how 'a natural look also involves doing subtle, light makeup'. You're on a mission here.

Speaking of, you just got a great idea.

You opened his Magicam after getting dressed, briefly gawking at the follower count before clicking on the 'new post' button.

You placed Vil's phone horizontally against your chest, taking an unflattering chin photo and posting it to magicam with the caption "#chinningtime😍😍😍😍", giggling like an idiot all the while.

Within a minute, your post has already gained about 2 thousand likes and loads of very confused (and amused) comments.

What great encouragement to post another one.

You placed the selfie camera of his phone close to your forehead, taking a forehead touch perspective pic. You added the caption "what my kitten sees😈💯🔥" and posted it.

You were laughing your ass off at all the comments when someone knocked at the door. "Roi du Poison, this is an intervention. I am very concerned about you."

Hahahaha, of course he would be one of the first people to worry about you.

Rook joined you once again in your room, explaining how concerned he is about your behavior this morning and how it's very unlike you. I mean, jeez, is Vil allergic to fun or something?

However, Rook wasn't the only one that had concerns with you, it seems.

"Would you care to explain what these are?" you were surprised to hear your own voice, turning your gaze back to the door where you were standing with a very displeased face, holding up your phone with the two selfies you took earlier. It feels dystopian to see yourself standing right in front of you. Out of body experience, for real.

"Wait. Before anything, just who are you?" you wanted to know just who was in your body, though you were already about 90% sure of it.

"Ah, Trickster. What brings you into Pomefiore?" Rook questioned internally how Vil doesn't recognise you.

"For your information, I am Vil. That other person next to you is not Vil. I'd assume you're the prefect, then?" he looked you with authority, leaving no room for stalling or avoiding his question.

"Yeah, yeah. You got me. But like, it's funny, right?" you shrugged, smiling goofily.

Vil dragged you off to the headmage's office, promising to explain things to Rook later and giving a firm scolding to you.

.

"Now that everything is finally sorted and we're excused from class for the day, would care to delete those... unflattering posts, please?" once the two of you were back in Vil's room, he immediately brought up that topic.

By now, they had to have gathered about 70k likes, right? Hehehehe.

"Do not smile at me like that. Or I will take back my phone and delete those horrid photos myself. Do you even realise what a PR nightmare this could be?" he placed his hands on his hips. You feel like you look completely different now that Vil's mannerisms are reflected on your own body. Body language really makes a man, huh?

"Oh, come onnnn, your fans love it. Everyone's laughing and saying how surprising it is to see you post something like this. See, they even got the hashtag #chinningtime trending!" you showed him pictures of his fans taking the same unflattering chin photos.

"What joy does someone derive from selfies as horrible as that? You made me look utterly horrible with those angles." You watched your own face contort with cringe. It's amusing how funny you look.

"People love silly things from time to time. For a celebrity as serious and professional as you, occasional silliness makes you look more relatable to your fans. A celebrity with a good sense of humor is the best kind in my opinion." you gave him a happy thumbs up. It was also for your own amusement, but you really don't feel like getting scolded even more than you have on your way back to the dorm.

"That is... the smartest thing I have ever heard come out of your mouth." He sighed, "I suppose it would cause people to talk about it even more if I deleted them now. But I am still not happy about them."

You ignored the jab at your intelligence, turning around to look at yourself in the mirror. "You know, Vil, you can let loose from time to time. Smile and goof around without worrying what someone might think." your eyes travelled down the sculpted jawline of your new reflection.

"In a way, you're right for suggesting that. But I'm not someone who enjoys your sense of humor or relaxed philosophy to begin with." he was right. He only jokes on occasion and his jokes aren't very goofy.

"You're right..." now that you technically are him, you can see first hand how much he cares about his body. His skin is soft and gleaming, his hair is healthy and shiny and his body is nice to move around in.

"You seem lost in thought. It's unlike you." you looked back at him through the mirror.

"I just thought about how admirable you are. Like, damn, I could nevaaa." Vil inferred you were talking about his strict daily routine. You seem different now. More quiet and thoughtful than usual. And he definitely didn't miss the pink dusting his cheeks on his own face through the mirror's reflection.

"Thank you." 'admirable' is a compliment slightly rarer than the usual ones talking about his beauty.

"By the way, your smile is beautiful. Not the one in all the movies, the one you don't consciously make." you closed your eyes, recalling that exact face of his. Too pretty for his own good, that man.

"Thank... you. You seem in a great mood to compliment me. Surely you don't think this will be enough to make up for the selfies, because it is not." at this point, even Vil didn't know what to think. The smile he doesn't consciously make, huh...

"Nah, those were just random ones I wanted to get off my mind. Oh, by the way, I don't know how to do your makeup look. Care to do it for me, pookie bear?" you sprung up from the chair at the vanity table, already getting excited about messing him up on purpose by opening your eyes when he tells you not to or moving your lips away from the lipstick, making it smudge.

You got way too sentimental for a moment there. And you're sure he noticed.

"Back to your regular self, I see. Fine, I will make myself look beautiful, as always." he smiled confidently. Though he himself has become curious about that side of you now.

Do you really think of him as a victim of your little pranks like everyone else, or are you hiding something else behind your silly smile?

‧₊˚✩彡 Idia Shroud

You were surprised to find a different voice calling out to you in the morning and telling you to wake up, one that sounded more cheerful, peppy, childlike.

And sure enough, it was Ortho's face that greeted you instead of your usual furry friend Grim.

As it turns out, you woke up in Idia's body this morning. What a lovely surprise.

You mean that both sarcastically and in the regular sense.

While you were explaining what was happening to a confused and worried Ortho, Idia's phone started buzzing somewhere in the bed. This dude sleeps with his phone inside his bed? Well, you suppose you have no time for judgement when the phone call might be important.

You rummage through his bed and eventually extract his phone. It was your number calling him.

When you pick up, you hear your own panicked voice on the other end. "U-Um, is this- Are you- How do..."

"Yes, I'm the Prefect. Looks like we switched bodies overnight." you inferred that he wanted to know who exactly just picked up the phone.

"How exactly do you think that happened? I mean, that's NOT normal." your voice on the other end seemed much calmer now.

"Hm, I have no clue, but I do know that I'm going to have loads of fun..." you grinned widely, catching a glimpse of yourself on Idia's dark phone screen and flinching slightly. You're definitely not going to get used to looking like someone else for a while. Especially if your new appearance is as unique as Idia's.

"What do you mean by that? Seriously, wha-" you ended the call before your voice could finish the sentence.

"Hehehehe... I bet he's panicking so hard right now." you giggled to yourself, still feeling a little weird about the fact that it's Idia's voice coming out of your mouth instead of your own.

"Brothe- No, Prefect. Who was that?" it was adorable how worried Ortho was over his brother. Or you, you suppose.

"Oh, don't worry your pretty little head about it..." you patted Ortho's head, hand moving over his flames with interest. "Go ahead and have fun, I'll be here if you need me." you gently shooed Ortho out of Idia's room to execute your master trolling plan.

You sat behind Idia's computer, booting it up. His computer works really fast, which isn't all that surprising considering his skills. He probably built the whole PC from scratch.

Surely, Idia won't mind if you play his games for a bit. You just want to see how far he's gotten. How many items he's saved up.

Hehehe.

You opened up one of the games you've been dabbling in yourself a bit, giggling to yourself about the random anime girl backround.

"Jeez, he's basically pro at this point." you went through his obtained characters and all the stats on most characters were maxed out.

But, since he still hasn't obtained the new character AND he has loads of gems in his inventory, he surely won't mind if you do the work for him, right?

You started pulling for characters in the gacha, waiting for the little indicator that you got a rare character. The flames of your hair flickered more and more with each pull, knowing you were getting closer.

Just when you got the pull animation you were looking for, the door to his room burst open and you saw yourself, all panicked and panting. Took him long enough, jeez.

"Oh, hi, me! I was just pulling for this character on your behalf, and-" you glance at the monitor "Looks like I won the fifty/fifty, hehe~" you acted cute and innocent.

"W-W-WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?! I didn't- I didn't want this character! I was saving up for the re-run, and- Agh!" Idia pushed you away from his keyboard, and he stared at the screen with pure horror in his eyes. You wonder what color his hair would be if he were in his body right now. But as it stands, his flames are flickering happily above your head at a succesful trolling attempt.

"Just buy more gems, bae. Money solves all your problems." you pat his head, kinda cringed out by the way your face can contort when it's making faces candidly. You really look like that when in despair, huh?

Idia ignored the way the casual pet name made him feel. He's supposed to be furious at you right now, not flustered.

"Noooooooo, this is the worst day of my life...." he hid his face in his hands.

"You know what, though? Look at the bright side! I get to figure out how your hair looks when it's wet. I doubt you'd do it yourself and I've been morbidly curious for a while." you patted his shoulder in an overly cheerful manner.

"Wha- Abso-freaking-lutely not. You're a weirdo of the third degree." he crossed his arms, still feeling a bit heartbroken over his videogames being tampered with.

"Is it that weird that I find your hair pretty?" you run your hand through his hair for the thousandth time this morning. It just feels so strange, yet nice under your fingers.

"Finding out if I become bald when my hair gets wet doesn't seem like something a hair admirer would do, but IDK, maybe my definition is different from yours." Idia shrugs, scowl still as big as ever.

"But really, I am an admirer. I kept looking at myself or, well, you in your phone camera this morning because your hair is just so pretty. Watching your hair fluctuate with your emotions is always a fun sight, too. Like damn, your hair is literally on fire, how cool is that?" you explain your thoughts, twirling a piece of his hair in your hand and smiling at it.

"If only I could cuddle up to you and use you like a heater. Too bad your hair's just a normal temperature." Idia's heart almost exploded at the mental image that formed in his head when you said that. And it was even worse because it was coming out of his own mouth.

"T-This is not okay... You can't do this to me...!" he mumbled, not meeting your eyes.

You don't get it, you just dealt 99999 damage to his falling-in-love-resistance shield. Just how do you manage to do that?

"Actually, now that I can look at it up close as much as I want, your face is like, really well proportioned too. Like..." you bit your lip as a joke, wanting to look overly flirty. "That's all I'm gonna say."

Okay, now you've done it. He might just pass out, right now.

[cripplecharacters]

The Mask Trope, and Disfiguremisia in Media

[large text: The Mask Trope, and Disfiguremisia in Media]

If you followed this blog for more than like a week, you're probably familiar with “the mask trope” or at least with me complaining about it over and over in perpetuity. But why is it bad and why can't this dude shut up about it?

Let's start with who this trope applies to: characters with facial differences. There is some overlap with blind characters as well; think of the blindfold that is forced on a blind character for no reason. Here is a great explanation of it in this context by blindbeta. It's an excellent post in general, even if your character isn't blind or low vision you should read at least the last few paragraphs.

Here's a good ol’ tired link to what a facial difference is, but to put it simply:

If you have a character, who is a burn survivor or has scars, who wears a mask, this is exactly this trope.

The concept applies to other facial differences as well, but scars and burns are 99% of the representation and “representation” we get, so I'll be using these somewhat interchangeably here.

The mask can be exactly what you think, but it refers to any facial covering that doesn't have a medical purpose. So for example, a CPAP mask doesn't count for this trope, but a Magic Porcelain Mask absolutely does. Bandages do as well. If it covers the part of the face that is “different”, it can be a mask in the context used here.

Eye patches are on thin ice because while they do serve a medical purpose in real life, in 99.9% of media they are used for the same purpose as a mask. It's purely aesthetic.

With that out of the way, let's get into why this trope sucks and find its roots. Because every trope is just a symptom of something, really.

Roughly in order of the least to most important reasons...

Why It Sucks 

[large text: Why It Sucks]

It's overdone. As in — boring. You made your character visibly different, and now they're no longer that. What is the point? Just don't give them the damn scar if you're going to hide it. 

Zero connection with reality. No one does this. I don't even know how to elaborate on this. This doesn't represent anyone because no one does this.

Disability erasure. For the majority of characters with facial differences, their scars or burns somehow don't disable them physically, so the only thing left is the visible part… aaand the mask takes care of it too. Again, what's the point? If you want to make your disabled character abled, then just have them be abled. What is the point of "curing" them other than to make it completely pointless?

Making your readers with facial differences feel straight up bad. I'm gonna be honest! This hurts to see when it's all you get, over and over. Imagine there's this thing that everyone bullied you about, everyone still stares at, that is with you 24/7. Imagine you wanted to see something where people like you aren't treated like a freakshow. Somewhat unrealistic, but imagine that. That kind of world would only exist in fiction, right? So let's look into fiction- oh, none of the positive (or at least not "child-murderer evil") characters look like me. I mean they do, but they don't. They're forced to hide the one thing that connects us. I don't want to hide myself. I don't want to be told over and over that this is what people like me should do. That this is what other people expect so much that it's basically the default way a person with a facial difference can exist. I don't want this.

Perpetuating disfiguremisia. 

"Quick" Disfiguremisia Talk

[large text: "Quick" Disfiguremisia Talk]

It's quick when compared to my average facial difference discussion post, bear with me please.

Disfiguremisia; portmanteau of disfigure from “disfigurement” and -misia, Greek for hatred. 

Also known as discrimination of those mythical horrifically deformed people.

It shows up in fiction all the time; in-universe and in-narrative. Mask trope is one of the most common* representations of it, and it's also a trope that is gaining traction more and more, both in visual art and writing. This is a trope I particularly hate, because it's a blatant symptom of disfiguremisia. It's not hidden and it doesn't try to be. It's a painful remainder that I do not want nor need.

*most common is easily “evil disfigured villain”, just look at any horror media. But that's for another post, if ever.

When you put your character in a mask, it sends a clear message: in your story, facial differences aren't welcome. The world is hostile. Other characters are hostile. The author is, quite possibly, hostile. Maybe consciously, but almost always not, they just don't think that disfiguremisia means anything because it's the default setting. No one wants to see you because your face makes you gross and unsightly. If you have a burn; good luck, but we think you're too ugly to have a face. Have a scar? Too bad, now you don't. Get hidden.

Everything here is a decision that was made by the author. You are the one who makes the world. You are the person who decides if being disabled is acceptable or not there. The story doesn't have a mind of its own, you chose to make it disfiguremisic. 

It doesn't have to be.

Questions to Ask Yourself

[large text: Questions to Ask Yourself]

Since I started talking about facial differences on this blog, I have noticed a very specific trend in how facial differences are treated when compared to other disabilities. A lot of writers and artists are interested in worldbuilding where accessibility is considered, where disabled people are accepted, where neurodivergence is seen as an important part of the human experience, not something “other”. This is amazing, genuinely.

Yet, absolutely no one seems to be interested in a world that is anything but cruel to facial differences. There's no escapist fantasies for us.

You see this over and over, at some point it feels like the same story with different names attached.

The only way a character with a facial difference can exist is to hide it. Otherwise, they are shamed by society. Seen as something gross. I noticed that it really doesn't matter who the character is, facial difference is this great equalizer. Both ancient deities and talking forest cats get treated as the same brand of disgusting thing as long as they're scarred, as long as they had something explode in their face, as long as they've been cursed. They can be accomplished, they can be a badass, they can be the leader of the world, they can kill a dragon, but they cannot, under any circumstances, be allowed to peacefully exist with a facial difference. They have to hide it in the literal sense, or be made to feel that they should. Constantly ashamed, embarrassed that they dare to have a face.

Question one to ask yourself: why is disfiguremisia a part of your story?

I'm part of a few minority groups. I'm an immigrant, I'm disabled, I'm queer. I get enough shit in real life for this so I like to take a break once in a while. I love stories where transphobia isn't a thing. Where xenophobia doesn't come up. But my whole life, I can't seem to find stories that don't spew out disfiguremisia in one way or the other at the first possible opportunity.

Why is disfiguremisia a default part of your worldbuilding? Why can't it be left out? Why in societies with scarred saviors and warriors is there such intense disgust for them? Why can't anyone even just question why this is the state of the world?

Why is disfiguremisia normal in your story?

Question two: do you know enough about disfiguremisia to write about it?

Ask yourself, really. Do you? Writers sometimes ask if or how to portray ableism when they themselves aren't disabled, but no one bothers to wonder if maybe they aren't knowledgeable enough to make half their story about their POV character experiencing disfiguremisia. How much do you know, and from where? Have you read Mikaela Moody or any other advocates’ work around disfiguremisia? Do you understand the way it intersects; with being a trans woman, with being Black? What is your education on this topic?

And for USAmericans... do you know what "Ugly Laws" are, and when they ended?

Question three: what does your story associate with facial difference — and why?

If I had to guess; “shame”, “embarrassment”, “violence”, "disgust", “intimidation”, “trauma”, “guilt”, “evil”, “curse”, “discomfort”, “fear”, or similar would show up. 

Why doesn't it associate it with positive concepts? Why not “hope” or “love” or “pride” or “community”? Why not “soft” or “delicate”? Dare I say, “beauty” or “innocence”? Why not “blessing”? “Acceptance”?

Why not “normal”?

Question four: why did you make the character the way they are? 

Have you considered that there are other things than “horrifically burned for some moral failing” or “most traumatic scenario put to paper”? Why is it always “a tough character with a history of violence” and never “a Disfigured princess”? Why not “a loving parent” or “a fashionable girl”, instead of “the most unkind person you ever met” and “total badass who doesn’t care about anything - other than how scary their facial difference is to these poor ableds”? Don’t endlessly associate us with brutality and suffering. We aren’t violent or manipulative or physically strong or brash or bloodthirsty by default. We can be soft, and frail and gentle and kind - and we can still be proud and unashamed.

Question five: why is your character just… fine with all this?

Can’t they make a community with other people with facial differences and do something about this? Demand the right to exist as disabled and not have to hide their literal face? Why are they cool with being dehumanized and treated with such hatred? Especially if they fall into the "not so soft and kind" category that I just talked about, it seems obvious to me that they would be incredibly and loudly pissed off about being discriminated against over and over... Why can't your character, who is a subject of disfiguremisia, realize that maybe it's disfiguremisia that's the problem, and try to fix it?

Question six: why is your character wearing a mask? 

Usually, there's no reason. Most of the time the author hasn't considered that there even should be one, the character just wears a mask because that's what people with facial differences do in their mind. Most writers aren't interested in this kind of research or even considering it as a thing they should do. The community is unimportant to them, it's not like we are real people who read books. They think they understand, because to them it's not complex, it's not nuanced. It's ugly = bad. Why would you need a reason?

For cases where the reason is stated, I promise, I have heard of every single one. To quote, "to spare others from looking at them". I have read, "content warning: he has burn scars under the mask, he absolutely hates taking it off!", emphasis not mine. Because "he hates the way his skin looks", because "they care for their appearance a lot" (facial differences make you ugly, remember?). My favorite: "only has scars and the mask when he's a villain, not as a hero", just to subtly drive the point home. This isn't the extreme end of the spectrum. Now, imagine being a reader with a facial difference. This is your representation, sitting next to Freddy Krueger and Voldemort.

How do you feel?

F.A.Q. [frequently asked questions]

[large text: F.A.Q. [frequently asked questions]]

As in, answers and “answers” to common arguments or concerns. 

“Actually they want to hide their facial difference” - your character doesn’t have free will. You want them to hide it. Again; why.

“They are hiding it to be more inconspicuous!” - I get that there are elves in their world, but there’s no universe where wearing a mask with eye cutouts on the street is less noticeable than having a scar. Facial differences aren’t open wounds sprinkling with blood, in case that's not clear.

“It’s for other people's comfort” - why are other characters disfiguremisic to this extent? Are they forcing all minorities to stay hidden and out of sight too? That’s a horrible society to exist in.

“They are wearing it for Actual Practical Reason” - cool! I hope that this means you have other characters with facial differences that don’t wear it for any reason.

"It's the character's artistic expression" - I sure hope that there are abled characters with the same kind of expression then.

“They’re ashamed of their face” - and they never have any character development that would make that go away? That's just bad writing. Why are they ashamed in the first place? Why is shame the default stance to have about your own face in your story? I get that you think we should be ashamed and do these ridiculous things, but in real life we just live with it. 

"Now that you say that it is kinda messed up but I'm too far into the story please help" - here you go.

“[some variation of My Character is evil so it's fine/a killer so it fits/just too disgusting to show their disability” - this is the one of the only cases where I’m fine with disability erasure, actually. Please don’t make them have a facial difference. This is the type of harm that real life activists spend years and decades undoing. Disfiguremisia from horror movies released in the 70s is still relevant. It still affects people today.

"But [in-universe explanation why disfiguremisia is cool and fine actually]" - this changes nothing.

Closing Remarks

[large text: Closing Remarks]

I hope that this post explains my thoughts on facial difference representation better. It's a complicated topic, I get it. I'm also aware that this post might come off as harsh (?) but disfiguremisia shouldn't be treated lightly, it shouldn't be a prop. It's real world discrimination with a big chunk of its origins coming out of popular media.

With the asks that have been sent regarding facial differences, I realized that I probably haven't explained what the actual problems are well enough. It's not about some technical definition, or about weird in-universe explanations. It's about categorizing us as some apparently fundamentally different entity that can't possibly be kind and happy, about disfiguremisia so ingrained into our culture that it's apparently impossible to make a world without it; discrimination so deep that it can't be excised, only worked around. But you can get rid of it. You can just not have it there in the first place. Disfiguremisia isn't a fundamental part of how the world works; getting rid of it won't cause it to collapse. Don't portray discrimination as an integral, unquestionable part of the world that has to stay no matter what; whether it's ableism, transphobia, or Islamophobia or anything else. A world without discrimination can exist. If you can't imagine a world without disfiguremisia in fiction... that's bad. Sad, mostly. To me, at least.

Remember, that your readers aren't going to look at Character with a Scar #14673 and think "now I'm going to research how real life people with facial differences live." They won't, there's no inclination for them to do so. If you don't give them a reason, they won't magically start thinking critically about facial differences and disfiguremisia. People like their biases and they like to think that they understand.

And, even if you're explaining it over and over ;-) (winky face) there will still be people who are going to be actively resistant to giving a shit. To try and get the ones who are capable of caring about us, you, as the author, need to first understand disfiguremisia, study Face Equality, think of me as a human being with human emotions who doesn't want to see people like me treated like garbage in every piece of media I look at. There's a place and time for that media, and if you don't actually understand disfiguremisia, you will only perpetuate it; not "subvert" it, not "comment" on it.

I hope this helps :-) (smile emoji. for good measure)

Mod Sasza

[lottins-only]

THE ALCHEMY

pairing: kylian mbappe x fem!reader

word count: 2.5k

warnings: swearing, mentions of mental illness

summary: working at real madrid is a dream come true— until kylian mbappe, football's biggest star and the last person you ever want to see, joins the club. as tensions rise between you two and the lines between frustration and fascination blur, you wonder: can you truly resist the man you've sworn to hate?

A/N: based on this request. i know club employee x player is a bit overdone but i had so much fun writing this! let me know if it's worth continuing. pls also share any other thoughts you have in my inbox or in the comments, i love hearing from you guys <3

“it’s almost time!” your boss whisper-yells as he runs into the break room, the sudden interruption jolting you so much you spill coffee from the mug you were holding onto your pristine white shirt. “quick, everyone get ready!”

you set down your mug carefully, looking down at your ruined shirt with a sigh. it was bad enough you had to come in early today for his presentation, but now your daily morning coffee ritual in the break room was ruined – all for real madrid’s newest galactico.

after doing his medical exams, touring the training facilities and meeting his new teammates, kylian mbappe apparently insisted that he see the club offices before his stadium presentation, ‘to meet the employees that he now calls family’. you’d snorted when you read the email announcing his visit, irritated at the fact that you’d have to play nice to the most arrogant, self - absorbed person to ever step foot in madrid.

you figured he’d make a quick stop on the first floor to see the social media team. that was the department the players engaged with the most, anyway.  no way he’d go all the way up to the fourth floor, where the finance department resided. yet, here you are, standing with the rest of the team, facing the door, waiting to be graced by the presence of the best player in the world.

naturally, he’s running late. 

“we have our weekly meeting in 15” you frown, looking at your phone. “what’s taking him so long?”

“forget the weekly meeting. we’ll reschedule” your boss, who loathes postponing anything, waves you off dismissively. he’s unusually smiley today, practically vibrating with excitement. he even has the new mbappe jersey in hand, no doubt to ask for an autograph. you’ve never seen a grown man fanboy this hard; it’s kind of pathetic if you think about it. 

your ears perk up at the sound of commotion outside the double doors, where you can see there’s a small crowd of people forming. the doors swing open a few moments later and in walks the talk of the town, flanked by a couple staff members, what looked like his personal assistant, a small camera crew, and a bodyguard. you can hear the collective intake of breath from the room as soon as he walks in.

“hello, everyone!” he walks to the center of the room, practiced smile plastered on his face. " how's everyone doing? i'm really happy to be here!"

the team immediately erupts into applause at his words. you reluctantly join, rolling your eyes.

he starts shaking hands and exchanging quick hellos as he makes his way further in the room. when he approaches your group, he stops in front of your boss. you can't help but notice how his beige polo shirt and white shorts make him stand out sharply from the dozens of people in the room dressed in bland office attire.

"we-welcome to real madrid!" your boss exclaims, stumbling over his words. you stare at the ground, fighting the urge to laugh.

“thanks, I’m excited to meet all of you,” kylian replies warmly, his gaze shifting to you for a brief moment. “and you are…?”

" y/n l/n, financial analyst" you say, putting on your best fake smile. "pleasure to meet you"

"pleasure is all mine" he murmurs, extending his hand towards you. you shake it, and his grip is surprisingly firm and warm. you maintain eye contact, searching for something in his face.

“sorry, I was wondering if you could sign this?” your boss interrupts, gesturing to his jersey.

"of course" kylian says. you overhear your co-workers gushing over him as he signs the jersey, declarations ranging from "he's more handsome in person" to "i can't believe he's actually here". he has a small smirk playing on his face as he listens, the jerk. of course what he needs is more fodder for his already inflated ego.

after handing your boss his jersey back, he turns back towards you , catching you off guard. “so, how long have you been with the club?”

"two years" you respond. "best workplace in the world, as i'm sure you're going to find out"

"oh, i already know'" he says, shoving his hands into his pockets. "i've been obsessed with this club since i was a little kid"

"really?" you tilt your head skeptically. " you didn't give that impression the past 6 years or so"

silence.

his eyes narrow, and was that an irritated look crossing his face? your heart races when you realize you've struck a nerve. he looks at you– really looks at you for the first time. before, you were just one of many he was obliged to make small talk to for the cameras but now you're the annoying woman who dares to question him.

“it's been a long road, i admit” he says carefully. “but i’m here now, and i’m just really happy”

“the biggest signing bonus we’ve ever given – i'd be surprised if you weren't over the moon” you say drily.

he clears his throat, smile completely faltering for a moment. “money isn’t my motivation”

“sure it isn’t!” you chirp sarcastically.

"no, really. i have plently of that already" he smirks, his gaze lazily dropping down to your chest. "you have a stain on your shirt, by the way”

"can we- shall we all gather for a group photo?" your boss, who was watching the entire exchange with a horrified look on his face, waves everyone over. he shoots you a pained look as he ushers kylian into the center of the group, mouthing a 'what the fuck???' over his shoulder. you grimace as you stand off to the side, arms crossed.

kylian lingers for a little bit after the photos, chatting with eager people, which, let's be honest, is everyone else besides you. a few minutes later his assistant announces that he needs to be on his way to get ready for the stadium presentation, so he makes his rounds again, shaking everyone's hand and saying goodbye individually.

when he approaches you, his smile fades a little. it thrills you to know it takes him more effort to fake his niceties with you.

"it was nice meeting you..." he looks at you expectantly, waiting for you to finish the sentence.

you almost roll your eyes, of course he’s pretending not to remember your name.

“it’s y/n” your boss supplies when you stay silent. he’s grinning,  just glad to be of service to the great kylian mbappe.

“y/n, yes!” kylian’s eyebrows rise in feigned realization. He gives you an exaggerated apologetic shrug, then leans in close, whispering just for you, “sorry, y/n, it’s just that some names are…forgettable.”

"just like some nights are forgettable,” you whisper back “or at least you wish they were, just because they’re so fucking bad.”

he gives you a genuinely confused look, a question in his eyes.

“yeah, i’d block out the memory of lasting one minute too” you smirk. “ I still have your watch, by the way”

his eyes widen so much it’s almost comical. there’s an undeniable look of recognition on his face. oh, he remembers now.

he opens his mouth to say something, but he’s whisked away by his entourage. he's actually running late for his presentation now.

you shake your head as you watch him go. he's exactly as you remember him: all charm on the surface and arrogance underneath.

this is the story of how you come to despise kylian mbappe. it starts off six months before that fateful morning in madrid, in packed nightclub in paris. you're on a weeklong girls' trip, your first time in the city of love. you've done all of the activities on a tourist's checklist: gone sightseeing, had some of the amazing pastries, and of course, taken the mandatory instagram pictures.

on your last night, you and your friend decide to go to some of the most exclusive clubs in the city  – your friend, who does pr for the big fashion houses, has connections that get you past doors.

you're just coming out of a period of depression, something you’ve struggled with throughout your life. after several months of feeling like a grey cloud was hanging over you everywhere you went, you crave some excitement and spontaneity— basically something to remind you you're alive. and so you're a woman on a mission that night: to find a hot man and hook up with him. no strings attached.

it turns out, you don't have to look far. you're on the dance floor of the first club you visit, moving amongst the hot sweaty bodies when you feel a tap on your shoulder.

you turn to find a tall, burly man looking down at you.

“my friend wants to buy you a drink” he says without introduction, pointing up to the vip section where you honestly can’t see anything through a wall of bodyguards.

“okay” you say, smiling. “he can buy me a drink”

there’s an unspoken statement from his end. he wants you to come up

“how old is he?” you ask more out of curiosity than anything else. there’s no way you’re going with him. “and how tall?”

the bodyguard is obviously taken aback. “uh, he’s 25, and…6 feet?”

“6’2 and above only, sorry” you say, giggling as you walk away to your friends who are waiting at the bar.

before long, you find yourself on the dance floor again, pressed up against someone with your back to their front, swaying to the rhythm of the music. You don't even know what they look like, but their body feels strong, solid. when their fingers graze your hips, you flip around, curiosity getting the better of you.

to your credit, your face doesn’t give away the fact that you know this person. that you’re probably one of his biggest fans in the world. that you watch even the most boring of psg games just for him. or that you want him at your club so so badly. no, you’re smart enough to arrange your face into a facade of nonchalance.

the first thing you notice is the smell of dior sauvage, and then the pretty dimples he flashes you when he sees you’re facing him.

“your dimples are pretty” you shout over the loud music. oops. looks like you’re in the ‘speaking without a filter’ stage of being drunk.

“thanks” he says into your ear. “why did you say no to vip? i was hoping you’d come up”

realization hits. oh.

“you’re not 6 feet tall!” you shriek gleefully, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “your bodyguard lied”

"yeah, I'm 5'10" he’s got a look of amused confusion on his face. “not sure why that matters though”

“that’s kind of short for a guy” you say. “you chose the right sport”

he raises his eyebrows, perhaps surprised you recognize him. “let me buy you that drink. and maybe we can talk about something other than my height?”

and so it begins. you spend the next thirty minutes at the bar pretending you both don’t know where this is leading and what you both want. you talk about madrid, how your time in paris is going. you don’t mention your employer, and he doesn’t talk about his impending transfer. he’s surprisingly witty and observant, something you don’t expect from a celebrity, and certainly not a footballer. at one point in the conversation, his hand lands on your thigh and it doesn’t leave. you’re drowning in anticipation, in want.

finally, he suggests you take this somewhere else. somewhere quiet, where you can 'talk more'.

you say yes. soon you’ve said your goodbyes to your friends and you’re in his car, and you don’t even know where you’re going, because you've both dropped all pretenses and are making out in the backseat. he's great at kissing, and even better at making you forget your name as soon as he touches you.

you hesitate for a brief second when you see you’ve arrived at a hotel a few minutes later, but his hand is warm on yours, so you let him lead you inside. everything after this is a blur— you remember the short elevator ride, his room key flashing, his lips immediately finding yours again as soon as the door clicks shut.

inside the room, your kisses grow heated, but they’re sloppy and unfocused. his hands are everywhere, sliding all over your body frantically. you both stumble over to the bed hazily, clothes disappearing off your bodies in the process.

it’s fast. so fast that you don’t realize it’s began until it’s over. afterwards, he collapses against you in a breathless heap, and you can only stare at the ceiling, trying to fend off the crushing weight of disappointment.

you roll him off your body slowly, but he doesn’t protest because he’s already dozed off. the alcohol has dulled your thoughts and your senses, but you can’t shake the creeping sense of hurt. somehow, sleep takes over you as well.

you stir awake a few hours later. the other side of the bed is empty, but you can hear movement from the bathroom. you're rubbing your eyes, groggy, when something catches your attention —his phone, which sits on the bed side table, is unlocked and displaying a text conversation.

don't do it, you think, do NOT do it.

but your hand treacherously reaches out and grabs the phone. you find that it’s a group chat of him and his friends. you skim over the texts quickly, aware that he's just in the other room.

tchaga: Kylian where tf are you???

kylian: with that girl from the club

ous: bro we stopped by your place you weren’t there

kylian: you know I don’t take groupies to my place what if she’s like in love with me

ous: 😭😭

tchaga: was it worth ditching your friends

kylian: I don’t remember a lot tbh. sucks, because I had to pretend I wanted to talk to her for like 30 minutes before we got to the hotel🙄

kylian: think I’ll head out before she wakes up and it gets awkward haha

your stomach immediately starts to churn with a mixture of humiliation and hurt. you're not an idiot, you knew what you signing up for when you left that club with him. a fun, meaningless hookup was what you wanted. but you didn't think it would be this. you're nauseous with disgust— not just at him, but at yourself. he brought you to a hotel, took what he wanted, and now he's laughing about it with his boys. you feel cheap, like he used and discarded you.

the worst part is, you used to like the guy. you were a huge fan of him as a footballer, and maybe even harbored a little crush on him. now you don't even want to see his face ever again.

you put the phone down quickly when you hear the bathroom door creak open, closing your eyes and pretending to sleep. you can hear him as he quietly moves around while he gets dressed. seconds later, you hear the click of the door shutting behind him.

just like that, he's gone.

you're not far behind him, eager to leave the room and the night behind. as you're gathering your things, you spot his watch on the bedside table. in a flash of anger, you stuff it in your purse along with your belongings. you also see he’s left a note, but you throw that into the trash without reading it. then you're out the door.

so, that's the story of how you come to hate kylian mbappe: in one careless, thoughtless night, he crushed the fragile self esteem you managed to rebuild over the past couple months, leaving you feeling smaller than ever. like you're worthless.

and now he's living in the same city as you, playing for the same club you work for. he's got everyone wrapped around his finger, worshipping the ground he walks on. and you? you'll never not despise him, that's for sure. come hell or high water.

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