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samuel-de-champagne-problems · 4 years ago

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It's Delicate: Part II

Summary: Spencer Reid finds himself at a gas station at 2:00 am, thinking he’s only leaving with a cup of crappy coffee. But something taped to the door catches his eye. Spencer leaves the gas station with more than he intended: the chance at a friend, and maybe something more along the way.

Word Count: 3.6 k

Author’s Note: Here's the second part in It's Delicate, my first chapter fic. I've planned out kind of where I see this eventually going! Thank you to anyone who reads, likes, comments, and reblogs. It really means the world to me.

Content Warnings: Expletive language (3 uses), mentions of drug use, sexual innuendo

READ PART I

It's Delicate Masterlist

It's Delicate

Sitting on the plane, Spencer looks out from the little window. For hours, there’s been nothing but corn fields and clouds. It’s eerily peaceful, being there high above the clouds. His whole life Spencer has felt this distance between him and everyone else, but nothing makes that feeling more prominent than being strapped in a glorified metal box 35,000 feet off the Earth’s surface. But the thing is, Spencer does need to be flying above the trees to feel lonely. He can do that with two feet on the ground.

Luke sits across Spencer, the table between them and a deck of playing cards are spread out across its surface. He has to nudge Spencer’s leg from under the table, trying to bring him back to reality as he stares out the window.

“Whatcha thinking,” Luke asks, Spencer has been noticing more and more that Luke is one of the few people that actually listens to him.

Spencer, whose mind is racing too fast to even formulate an articulate thought, attempts to dodge Luke’s question with a noncommittal shrug.

“Reid, these cases are hard for all of us, you gotta know that man,” Luke says, laying down a four of a kind.

Spencer narrows his eyes, shocked that it hasn’t clicked yet for the rest of the team. He cracks his neck, preparing to answer Luke.

“We almost locked up an innocent man, Alvez. I almost sent another man to the same fate as myself. What kind of fucked up message is that?” Spencer says, throwing down the cards on the table. He doesn’t wait for Luke to respond.

“I fold,”

Spencer walks off into the small kitchenette to make a cup of coffee. He doesn’t want to think about his increased reliance on coffee, because he knows it’s a hot cup of coffee or a cold needle of Dilaudid in his veins. Spencer checks his watch, it’s 10:17 pm, maybe too late to find a meeting at a church or rec center somewhere.

He sneaks a peak at his phone, which was still unfortunately on Airplane Mode, he hasn’t even gotten a chance to see if Y/N has responded. He doesn’t know much about her, just as much as she knows about him.

It’s a brave new world for Spencer and he’s knee deep into the unknown.

Spencer can feel Luke’s eyes on him. He just knows that the minute he gets home, a certain tech expert will be ringing him. He knows that it’s Luke’s way of caring, but for someone who’s been alone for so long, having people that actually care is almost drowning.

Walking back to his seat, Spencer hands Luke a coffee. He smiles slightly; it’s the awkward smile that he used to make when intimating police chiefs and idiot cops would look him up and down like he’s a TA. It’s a peace offering for Luke, who despite his tough looking exterior, is one of the kindest people Spencer knows.

“Look, Reid. I’m sorry that we didn’t put it together. It’s just that man that we caught, he’s not like you. He’s not innocent of crimes, he’s just innocent of this crime,” Luke says in an attempt to make Spencer feel a little bit better.

“The thing is Luke, I’m exactly like that man,”

Spencer returns to staring out the window. The cards and the coffee on the table are long ignored for the silence that is found when you’re high above the clouds.

Spencer hears Tara and Emily murmur quietly about going out for a round of drinks. Luke accepts, while JJ and Matt decline, eager to get home to their families. Emily looks over at Spencer, her eyes silently scanning him, his body language. Spencer knows that there’s nothing he can hide from Emily, so there’s no use in trying to pretend he’s alright when she can take one look at him and know that nothing is right.

“You guys have fun, I’m going to head home and get some sleep. I plan on visiting my mom tomorrow and mornings are usually better for her,” Spencer says, slinging his go bag around his shoulders and making the trek back to the security to check out.

He walks slowly, enjoying the sound of the crickets chirping as he trudges along. Spencer tries not to think about the man, Richard, who was almost locked up for a crime that he didn’t commit. Spencer is pretty sure that being the person to throw an innocent man in jail is worse than being the innocent man in jail.

Spencer’s phone buzzes loudly, disturbing the silence of his walk. He looks at the phone to see a couple of messages from Y/N. Spencer slides open the lock to his phone and hits the button to read her messages.

Y/N: Spencer...that has a nice ring to it. So tell me a little bit about yourself. Your big three, but as books. Go! 🌞🌙⬆️

Furrowing his brow, Spencer reads the message over again. He does not have a clue what “big three” means, but it seems like some sort of pop culture thing that he’s not skilled in. He wants to text Garcia for a translation, but he’s also not too keen on telling her how he came across Y/N’s number.

Y/N: I assume you’re working, but I'm kind of impatient so I’ll give you mine 🙃 I’m a Little Women sun, an Emma moon, and an In Cold Blood rising.

Y/N: Oh no….I hope my astrology didn’t turn you off

Y/N: Not that I was trying to turn you on

Y/N: omg Y/N please shut the fuck up

Astrology? Spencer isn’t one to judge, but he’s a scientist first and foremost. The idea that there is something written about him in the stars seems like ludicrous. He decided to ignore the other messages, particularly the ones with a little more than slight innuendo.

Spencer: Y/N- I’m sorry I just got out of work. As for my big three, I’m not sure about astrology. I don’t particularly believe in pseudoscience. But those are good choices. In Cold Blood is an excellent choice. Capote spent years researching the case. In fact his prose and technique inspired the entire “Nonfiction novel” genre. The world of journalism and true crime would not be where it is without Capote’s work.

Y/N: Oh my god. You are a total nerd. 🙀

That stops Spencer right in his tracks. He’s only a couple of yards away from the Volvo at this point, but somehow it feels a million miles away. You are a total nerd. The words replay in his mind as the small gray bubbles pop up again. Spencer can feel his heart constrict at Y/N’s words. It’s ridiculous, he’s nearly 34 and is getting upset that a stranger called him a nerd. Spencer unlocks his car and tosses his go bag, phone included onto the passenger seat.

After a couple of minutes his phone buzzes again. He’s half tempted to answer it, but the way his heart seems to beat faster tells him to ignore it.

Y/N: I fucking love it and I think you’ll love this too

Spencer’s entire demeanor changes as he reads the message. He’s always had difficulties reading emotion in writing, especially when he can’t analyze the handwriting. Sometimes, it’s even harder to judge inflection during conversations. Maybe that is why Spencer has spent all this time studying people, studying the way that their minds work. Before he can get too lost in his thoughts, another message pops up.

Y/N: Meet Capote and Second Cat

Y/N: They are the loves of my life

Spencer: They are very...distinguished looking. Capote is an excellent name choice then. Second Cat is also quite catchy.

Spencer hesitates before sending the message, he notices that Y/N uses what Garcia calls “emojis” quite frequently. He assumes that it’s some sort of “texting lingo” that expresses emotion in small graphics. Great, he thinks. He already has a difficult time deciphering Y/N’s cryptic wording and now he’s got to analyze these emojis.

Maybe he should profile her. He re-reads the message and settles on a “😄” because he figures that he can’t go wrong with offering Y/N a smile.

Spencer: I don’t have a cat, but when I was a kid I always wanted one, they’re quite good companions for those that live several different kinds of lifestyles. From active to sedentary, they are adaptable and independent. Honestly they are the perfect pet.

Y/N: Is this your way of telling you’re a crazy cat man? 😜 🙀

Spencer, still sitting in his car that’s parked in the parking lot, chuckles at Y/N’s response to his message. Maybe it’s just easier to ignore his rambling when it’s done through 1s and 0s and there isn’t a face to the words.

Spencer: I’m actually more of a fish guy

Y/N: Like a “I-like-to-go-fishing-and-post-picture-of-myself-kissing-my-catch-on-Tinder” kind of fish guy or...I can’t think of any other kind of fish men

Spencer, not totally understanding the obvious joke that Y/N is trying to make, settles on something that he hasn’t really ever tried: being himself.

Spencer: Not quite sure what a Tinder is, but I think fishing is terrifying and kissing a fish is something out of nightmares. But his name is Leo

Y/N: DiCaprio?

Spencer: Uhh, Tolstoy

Y/N: Good😉 ⚔️🕊️ 🇷🇺

Spencer glances at his clock on the control panel, it tells him that he’s been messaging with Y/N back and forth for nearly 22 minutes. He nearly forgot how tired he was.

Spencer: Y/N- I’m so sorry but, I just got to my car to drive home from work. I’ll text you tomorrow morning about the book club, maybe we can figure out some things.

Y/N: OMG Spencer!! you should have told me. I’ve been talking ur ear off. sleep well and yes please tomorrow we can talk about the book club

Y/N: Good night, Book Buddy 😴

Spencer wants to respond to Y/N, but he doesn’t know what to say. She seems to text so easily, and judging by that, she must be around Spencer’s age or a little bit younger. Besides JJ and Penelope, Spencer has never had a friend close to his age. It’s a strange new territory for him and he’s walking in head first into No Man’s Land.

He starts his Volvo, the check engine still lights but, reminding him once again to go get it fixed. Driving away from the parking lot, Spencer hands over his ID to Gina, the security guard. She checks his ID and gives him a tired smile. Spencer, as he drives home to his apartment, thinking about what books he and Y/N will read together. He wonders what kind of books are her favorite, if they have any authors that they can obsess over together, or if what she thinks a poet’s prose is.

The summer air rushing in through the window is nowhere as warm and as comforting as thought of Spencer finally having a friend that isn’t able to read the scars of his past in the text bubbles that pop up on her screen.

When Spencer opens his eyes for the first time that morning, he isn’t sure where he is. Sometimes, before he can stop his thoughts from travelling there, Spencer thinks he’s still in jail. He hates the feeling of terror that rushes over him but he hates the idea of being vulnerable a little bit more. But the softness of his pillows and the coolness of his cotton sheets remind him that he’s not sleeping on a hard cot with only a layer of fabric over his body. The light streams in through the half closed blinds, and Spencer judges by how brightly the sun shines in, it must be around 9:45 am.

He supposes that he prefers the way the sun’s rays paint horizontal bars across his face more than the vertical bars that cast gray shadows over his cell at Milburn Penitentiary.

It’s a day off from work, so Spencer didn’t set an alarm, instead allowing his mind and his body to catch up on some much needed rest. The nightmares have been getting better, but his dreams are still haunted by the way that he hardly recognizes himself anymore. Deciding that it will be a day spent in pajamas, Spencer goes to his bookshelf in his bedroom to pick out a couple of novels to read while he drinks his morning coffee and defrosts some of Luke’s strawberry pastries.

Before heading out of his room, Spencer stops himself in the doorway. He replays the events of last night. He declined to go out with the rest of the team, while he walked to his car he thought about the crickets telling the temperature, and he read over Y/N’s messages.

Y/N.

He promised he’d text her back in the morning about their book club. Last night, she didn’t seem to mind Spencer’s long messages and awkward phrasing. He still doesn’t really know how this Book Buddy thing would work, but since he found Y/N’s number on the flyer, he can only assume that she knows what to do. He leaps on his bed, landing with thud on his belly, to grab his phone that charges on his nightstand.

Spencer settles at his kitchen table, a cup of steaming hot Dark Roast coffee in a Captain Spock mug in one hand and, surprisingly, his phone in the other. He scrolls through the messages from last night, Y/N’s cat and emojis tempt a smile to Spencer’s face.

Not entirely sure how to start the conversation again, Spencer looks around for inspiration until his eyes land on a certain fish tank in the corner of his apartment. He snaps a quick picture of Leo and attaches it to the message.

Spencer: Good Morning from Leo & Spencer

Spencer sets down his phone after a moment when he realizes that Y/N is probably not going to answer him back in a couple of seconds. He takes out a strawberry pastry from his freezer and puts it into the toaster oven on a non-stick baking sheet. His thumbs run across the texture of the book he started on the plane ride after his and Luke’s ill fated poker game. It's a thin book of collected essays on the meaning of life. Camus, to Spencer, is a little pessimistic with his droning on about the meaninglessness of life. Though Spence has seen the absolute worst that humanity has to offer, he still has to believe that there’s a deeper meaning behind it all.

His toaster oven rings, altering him so that his toasted strawberry pastry is cooked. He plates his breakfast and pours himself another cup of coffee- he’ll need it to get through Camus’s section on Absurdism this early in the morning. But the flash of Spencer’s phone screen sends him reaching for his phone. Y/N replied to his message.

Y/N: hi leo!!!

Y/N: and you too Spencer :) Did you get a good night’s sleep. You got back late it seems.

Spencer, taking a bite of the strawberry pastry, ignores the burning sensation in his mouth. He types out a response to Y/N as he washes down the bite with a swing of coffee.

Spencer: I did, thank you. Can you tell me a little bit more about this book buddy thing. From what I gathered from the flyer it’s like a little book club of our own and we meet at the bookstore?

It doesn’t take long for Y/N to respond. The little gray dots pop up almost immediately after Spencer’s message is delivered.

Y/N: That’s about right! Is it okay if I call you? Kinda easier to talk that way 🤷‍♀️

Spencer reads over the message a couple of times. He doesn’t really like to talk on the phone and only does it out of necessity. He’s pretty sure that his voice is grating and his vocal fry is quite irritating. Yet, he finds himself replying “yes” to Y/N. Soon enough, his phone buzzes in his hand and Spencer has to remind himself how to pick up a call.

“Spencer? Um, this is Spencer Reid, right?” the voice says. It’s a woman’s voice and he can only assume that it’s Y/N, considering it is her phone number calling him.

“Y/N, uh hi. This is Dr. Spencer- I mean this is Spencer,” he says, nearly forgetting that Y/N doesn’t know him as Dr. Reid, but as just Spencer. It’s been a long time since someone has known him as Spencer.

“Oh great! It’s wonderful to finally have a voice to your name. So about these buddy reads. You seem to have a good grasp of what they are,” Y/N’s voice trails off a little bit at the end and Spencer finds it natural to fill in the silence.

“Yes, the flyer was quite informative. But I was wondering, do we read the same books or do we read different books?” Spencer asks, trying to restrain himself from scaring Y/N off. But something about her made him think that she didn’t scare easily.

Y/N chuckles lightly in the speaker of her phone, “that’s a good question, uh, I was actually going to ask you what you would rather. We can read the same books, or if it’s okay with you we can choose what the other would read for that week,”

“Oh really?” Spencer says, very much aware how his voice rises a couple of octaves. He can’t trust himself to hold back on rambling over the phone Y/N, so he resorts to using his strained, brittle voice that’s full of hesitation and restraint.

“That’s the plan, so whatcha thinking, Spencer,” Y/N says playfully, like she can sense that phone conversations maybe not make him feel at ease. There’s something so natural and silvery about her voice; it reminds Spencer of an audiobook reader. While he’s not too keen on audiobooks, he’s sure that he’d listen to anything she reads or has to say.

“Um, I think it sounds interesting to pick out books for each other. I tend to gravitate towards more technical books or even books that aren’t in English so, uh, I think it would be interesting to get out of my comfort zone,” Spencer says, cringing internally at using the word “interesting” twice in a couple of sentences.

“Well, as long as you don’t pick out something in physics or anything by Ayn Rand then I’d say we’re good,” Y/N says. Spencer thinks it’s a joke, but he’s not too sure how to respond.

“Will you still be my Book Buddy if I read 1 out of 2 of those?” Spencer asks, hoping she’d get that he is trying to continue the joke.

“Oh no Spencer please don’t tell me you’re an Ayn Rand fanboy,” she says, and by the airy way she laughs, Spencer ventures to guess his joke landed successfully.

“So,” Spencer starts, he never has made plans with people outside of his team, and on top of that, there’s something about Y/N’s quickness that makes him a little nervous to meet her.

“I’m talking your ear off, aren’t I? Please Spencer, if you’re going to be my Book Buddy, you’re going to have to get used to me talking a lot, especially you pick out good books, which, I already have a feeling you’re going to be favorite Book Buddy,”

For once in his life, Spencer doesn’t really know how to respond. He lets out something in between a strangled laughter and a noncommittal chuckle.

“So,” Y/N says, mirroring Spencer’s earlier words, “so are you free tonight, I can meet you at the bookstore..”

Y/N’s voice trails off and Spencer leaps to finish her sentences. It doesn’t feel like his interjecting or interrupting, but like he’s snapping a puzzle piece together.

“Does 7 work?” “7 is great, Spencer. It’s a date,”

Those three little words send Spencer’s eyes flying wide open. He scrambles to come up with answer to louden the silence that falls, but he swears he can hear a string of quiet curses before Y/N manages to squeak out a small “goodbye,”

Y/N’s last words play back in Spencer’s ears. He scolds himself for being so weird and awkward that the very idea of going on a date with him would send Y/N in a tizzy. It’s not a date, because Spencer can’t think about it being a date. It’s not a date because of the looming photo above his mantle that freezes his future in the past. It’s not a date because of the nightmare of vertical bars that haunt his dreams

It’s not a date. It’s so not a date because Spencer would call Luke to come over to help him if it was.

“Hey Luke,” Spencer says, trying to control the nervous waves in his voice, “no man, I’m fine, it’s uh, easier if you just come over. I’m fine, really,”

Y/N: I really hope you're not an Ayn Rand fanboy 😉

It’s so not a date.

--THANK YOU FOR READING--

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135 notes · View notes

seenashwrite · 7 years ago

Note

Dearest Nash, I've touched on this before in (I believe) in a discussion re: why some mainstream fics get oodles of notes while more original ones do not, *but* I wanted to get a bit more specific here. There are certain writers here whose writing has a definite vibe to it (if you will) that separates their work from others, and your name is one of the first that comes to mind. Bear with me, because trying to detail what makes your writing stand out is difficult while trying to articulate a Q

^ this is a gif with parts 2 - 4, just FYI

Hmmm… this is a bit of a brain buster. But I can answer it, and I think succinctly, maybe with a touch of that Spidey sense you mention:

Thank you for your inquiry, hope that helps!

I kid. But this is a brain-turner. And a characteristic which, like you say, ain’t limited to me. I’d honestly throw comedians under this umbrella, too, not because I’m necessarily gunning for a laugh every time, but because it’s pretty much their job to take a “basic” (a tenet or fact of life or present reality or whatever) and present the observation with a twist. I think of storyteller comedians specifically, your Patton Oswalt-s, Maria Bamford-s, Kathy Griffin-s, and John Mulaney-s.

So if I can sum up, assuming I’m tracking with you, what you’re more or less driving at with the “how” is this –> Is there anything beyond simply personality, or an auto-pilot thought cascade (for lack of better terminology) that contributes? Are there things someone could do/be proactive about, to perhaps cause this same sort of reaction to happen in their brain?

I think there just might be.

Folks reading this, let me ask you a question, and you cannot look it up:

What was the name of the Sherpa guide who led Sir Edmund Hillary up Mount Everest?

His name was Tenzing Norgay.

Nash, what in the name of the frozen corpse of George Mallory does this have to do with Lion’s question?

I shall tell you.

My father told me that fact when I was quite young, so young I legit couldn’t even ballpark my age for you. The context was that having little facts tucked away in your brain may come in handy. Not in a Jeopardy kind of way, more in a conversational way. I’ve no idea why the man thought the Sherpa guide who led Hillary up Mt. Everest would ever come up during a conversation with enough regularity to justify my knowing that fact (aside from him randomly quizzing me throughout my life) but hey, I guess it just did.

But speaking of Lil’ Nash, the situation for her was that she was the eldest of all the Nash litter by miles… like seven or eight years, I’m not bothering to check. So I had a lot of alone time, and my grandmother was my chief babysitter, so prior to kindergarten and then til I was in about second grade (so: all day long during the week, then every weekday after she picked me up from school), I was pretty much always at her house. Yeah, there were toys, but not a lot to do. And I’d read. I’d been reading on my own for a decent while, not because I was some prodigy but because my dad read to me *constantly* when Lil’ Nash was Itty-Bitty Nash, and it “took”. My mom also, every time she went to the grocery store always - and I mean always - brought back a book for me. It might’ve been an Archie comic—-

Mandatory #fuck the CW’s Riverdale tag

—-or a Babysitter’s Club, or Sweet Valley High, Judy Blume, Madeleine L’Engle, Zilpha Keatley Snyder, you get my point. Some small paperback. It would piss Dad off because he’s a cheap bastard and two buck books once or twice a month were really gonna cut into the savings [eyeroll] but also, in a way, because I’d kill it in a half day/a day. Wouldn’t put it down. After awhile, I started writing my own silly little kid stories, then - and this is where the creative writing love came about - I started writing soap operas for my Barbies. (When I was older - like, 5th grade? 6th grade, maybe? - none of my peers were still playing with Barbies, and I got made fun of when, at a sleepover, they saw my stash. And I was like - No, no, no. Those aren’t for playing. That’s my cast.)

Time went on, and when I was bored at post-church lunch/dinners, I would also read the old encyclopedias at my grandmother’s, the ones from the late ‘60s/early ‘70s that she had for my mom and my aunt. As I got even older and became fascinated with rooting through the boxes in gran’s basement, looking at all the cool old clothes, I stumbled upon my aunt’s collection of Whoa-Hooooo Shit There’s No Way My Grandparents Knew You Read These books. Those kinda Harlequin-esque ones, except my aunt’s tastes run close to mine, none were the same shtick with different covers, shmultzy-sappy romance, there was always some sort of intrigue along with the sexy times, and she also had, like, every legit V. C. Andrews (meaning: not the ones from the ghostwriter, this was way before her death) book.

What is my point? I read a LOT. Now-a-days, other than fanfic (which… straight up: I don’t read a lot of that, either. I peace out on probs 80% of it before the third-to-fifth paragraph. It’s gotta sell me fast, yo) I haven’t read fiction in probably, oh…. 12 years? I think the last ones were the first couple Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood. Wait, no! I lie! I read the 50 Shades books when I was traveling 2x/wk for a job about 4 years ago, and I needed the laughs. It worked. Oh my days, that woman can’t write. The screenplay might’ve been worse, it goes her, then Buckleming, then everyone else. It’s bad. In any event, past decade or so, it’s more historical stuff and true crime and science stuff and all that old fart jazz.

Okay, so that’s #1: Read. And not just anything, be well-read, and that doesn’t mean developing some level of expertise, by “well” I’m saying to cover the spread. You’re building your tool kit, is all. You won’t use most of it, but it’s nice to have options. You also don’t always have to get this stuff from reading now-a-days, because podcasts. Cover the spread there, too. Lemme look at my bookmarks….

[Spongebob narrator voice: A few moments later]

I’m back. Science - Skeptic’s Guide to the Universe; General current stuff without being news - CGP Grey’s Hello Internet; current events with shittons of pop culture, past and present - Greg Proops’ Smartest Man in the World; fun history stuff - The Dollop; entertainment stuff - How Did This Get Made.

#2: Keep a notebook with you and jot down turns-of-phrase that spark something in your brain - things you read on websites, on twitter, in articles, things you hear people say (real life, TV, movies, podcasts), and write it. Don’t snap a pic with your phone or make a note in your phone. There are studies behind this, I’m not hunting them down, you��ll just have to trust me, but there are, and it goes to being reflexive, a brain “muscle memory” thing, if you will. You’re not doing it to plagiarize, you’re doing it to dissect it, kind’ve like you did with the example you gave on me —> went from punch action to punch spiked with booze to a punch with a spiked gauntlet.

Which leads to #3: Mental dictionary. I have a large vocab repository, and it stems from the tons of reading - I stop and look up stuff if I either don’t know it, or it’s used in such a way that I think they’ve got it wrong and want to double-check that maybe there’s another usage I don’t know - and also stems from a drive to combat the (still fairly thick) deep South drawl I can’t kick, and not for lack of trying. But see, I couldn’t have whipped out that progression if I weren’t aware that one definition of “spike” is “to add alcohol to”, or of the common shtick in stories of spiked punch like at high school proms typically, or knew about the existence of spiked gauntlets / old school armor.

And I guarantee you that a good chunk of people didn’t really “get it”, and just thought “Nash Be Nashin’, that nutty gal”. So they “get it” on that level, but don’t Get. It., if you see what I’m saying. And that’s fine. Maybe it got something cranking in the back of their mind and it’ll hit ‘em in the middle of the night, or they’ll be watching Game of Thrones or something, see a gauntlet and be like “Oh goddamnit, I just got a throw-a-way one-liner from three years ago” and have a chuckle.

Related, re: looking stuff up and things that people “get”? I didn’t know fuck-all about Twilight, but it seemed of import to the folks around 5 years younger than me, the Nashlings wouldn’t shut up about it, so I got a good working knowledge of it. Same with Harry Potter, and through it I got to “know” J.K. Rowling, who I find to be an exceptional writer, so that was great, and I’ve watched the movies for the most part over the years at Christmastime, and I don’t give the first shit about what “house” I’m in, nor do I care about what Patronus I’d fart, but I have a working knowledge of what those are, and horcruxes and who Snape and Voldie are, you get my point. I can keep up. But to do it, I had to take the time to look it up. One thing I would not trade for gold is Michael Sheen chewing the goddamn scenery in that battle segment from the last Twilight movie. Have I watched the movie? No. But that scene is the shit. And that baby CGI is horrific on several subtle levels. And not-so-subtle. I’ve digressed.

Back to those notes: So if you’ve got these notes jotted, you might see something else and think “I feel like that could’ve been snappier…. why do I think that….” And you’ve got a resource at your disposal, that little notebook. Hell, jot that thing down - things you think could be done better. I have in many documents a highlight around chunks of scenes for my big dog story where it says in bold above or below “DO BETTER”. Meaning: there’s a better way to get from A to B, but I’m just not quite there yet. I’m pretty quick on the uptake and can crank out something snappy on the fly (like say, in CASPN chat or when banging out a short reply or thank you note) but there’s definitely times I gotta slap a DO BETTER on it and walk away til that snappy something-or-other light bulb goes off.

Here’s a recent one where I backtracked, matter of fact - that noir spoof thing I wrote? Along with my co-writer, Moscato? There was a line that I couldn’t hit with a good zinger, so I just said moments were going by like a fat hamster on a wheel, which is cute, but not really grooving with the setting/the vibe. Less tipsy, when I was correcting some inelegant formatting and a misspelling [sigh], I went “Oh! Why didn’t this occur to me last night? Right. Wine.” So the line is now about moments dragging like a rolling donut with a copper on its tail. Get it? The cop’s a fat ass. The donut-cop stereotype.

…….Fine, it ain’t my best, but it fits better. Moving on.

And this leads nicely into #4, and a specific tip I can impart - assuming you’ve got a passable-to-high level of vocabulary in your tool belt, practice messing around with making nouns into verbs, and twisting random stuff into descriptors and using bizarre words/things in metaphors/analogies. Like, I say “adulting” quite a bit. Ali - @littlegreenplasticsoldier - I thiiiink was writing recently about Sam being drunk, and he’s a tall wobbly Jenga tower on his last Jenga. Going back to the noir, pulpy detective style, try messing with the whole “S/he was like a ___ that ____”. Add on to stuff that’s well known - He was like a dog with a bone, if the bone was a ____ and he was a ____ and we were in a ____. (I have *nothing* in mind to fill those blanks, by the way, feel free to twist it into sumpin’)

What else…. okay, here’s a #5: In drafts, let yourself wander, and see what kicks out. It can be fueled by silliness or anger, but I don’t reckon you’re gonna get the “snappy” you’re aiming for if you’re down in the dumps and going full-court-press angst. The best stuff, IMO, comes from the space in between goofy and pissed, and that is The Land Of Snark. You can always re-style it to bend more dry or wistful should you need to, certainly, depending on the situation.

Have a sample of a primo Nash Digression that was fueled by ire in a recap from Season 12 (episode 19). I had said - RE: the random inclusion of the character Joshua, which still pisses me off because they burned a character that held massive potential for future stuff as he’d been shown to be the only angel with direct access to Chuck, so, y’know, that could never come in handy, like ever again in the series, right? - the following.

Mandatory pre-emptive #fuck Dabb

[Spongebob narrator voice] A few moments later —>

On god, I have no idea where that came from, and here’s where we go back to ol’ Spidey up there, because end of the day?

All that other stuff’s the foundation, sure, but there’s always gonna be the weird iggy, the thing that can’t be learned or taught, whatever the quirky synapse is that fires off in my/our brains. In my experience, it’s an ADD-ish sort of jam mixed with the Nostradamus effect. Meaning, (A) we’re at Level 10, rapid fire thought processing >50% of the time, and (B) throw out enough stuff for long enough, some of it’s going to stick. And I whiff it plenty. Multiple times in CASPN chat I’ve been like “Whoo, tough room” when something falls flat.

A specific example: @mrswhozeewhatsis - and I think you saw this, but anyone else seeing this may not have - gave probably the most fantastic analogy I’ve seen regarding the whole “getting it” thing, and while it was on the topic of meaty plots that get too far into the weeds (my specialty) and how it can lessen appeal to a broader audience, it still applies here.

She said “Sometimes, when I’m reading something of yours, I feel like there’s a joke I’m missing. It’s like watching Spaceballs without having seen Star Wars.” I say that to say - nobody’s gonna land references that cover the spread 100% of the time. And, y’know, fine. I figure maybe it’ll prompt someone to do a quick google for - well, let’s use Spaceballs. Most folks will no doubt get the Star Wars part, but maybe not Spaceballs. Maybe they’ll check it out, find something they enjoy. Or learn a new word. Or get a brainstorm for a story. Who knows?

Last tip: Don’t actively mimic anyone’s style. Much fail. And I don’t only mean because if they’re on a social Venn diagram with you, would likely recognize themselves in your stuff——

Takes a moment to wave to the peeps still trying with me! #bless your hearts

—–but because it’s fucking hard. I did it broadly on the noir thing, that’s not a hard thing, to homage generalities, but the way I’m messing with doing this on that silly Princess Bride series? Purposefully styling it like Goldman? It’s good challenging and all, and it is making it feel more in the groove with the book/movie, but I have to be in the right frame of mind or it’s like fingernails on a chalkboard, and when I have pushed it, then gone back, it’s sloggy, soggy garbage.

I say all that to say: it’s an amalgam of brain-wiring/personality, and world/life perspective(s), and knowledge acquired over time. The first just is; the second will evolve in myriad ways, maybe for the better, maybe for the worse; the last is the one where you/we have control, we can fill bucket after bucket of information, and the well won’t ever run dry.

Sorry this took so long. I kept adding and subtracting. This is the edited version, if you can believe it. Welcome to Nash Brain. 😉

#Dear Nash #becominglionhearted #Writing Advice #and / or #Writing Stuff #maybe #Writing Tips #unsure #we'll go with all of it #ah I know #Writing Style #that's the ticket #Queueby Dooby Doo #Dad's on a blog post and #he hasn't been queued in a few days

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unnamedelement · 4 years ago

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So my thoughts about this are complex, and I am realizing as I finally write this that I am several reblogs behind, and I don’t know if I’m in the best place right now to articulate my thoughts because my brain is absolutely dead from this horrific paper that is destroying my self-esteem and eating all my brain cells, but I need a break, so I’ll try. It is entirely possible I am about to leave a lot of stuff out and I’m not including references because I can’t even manage all the references in this actual paper I’m writing right now, and for that I apologize deeply. Nerd!me is dying inside.

And also, just to be clear, I’m addressing this from an elven perspective largely, and I’m assuming mortals can have varying views and understandings depending on their proximity to elves and their proximity to which types of elves, specifically. Like, the Rohirrim and men of Wilderland, for example--all largely oral cultures and also geographically closer with the Silvan folk--probably feel differently about the whole thing than, say, Gondorians, who have a long history that interweaves with non-Silvan Elves (Mithrellas aside, but that’s not a happy ending...), with much myth and story and Numenor and elven intermixture and all that jazz.

UE Rambles On Agnosticism and Culture

I’ve chatted with @roselightfairy a few times about this concept of agnosticism in elves--was so excited to find out I wasn’t the only one who decided woodelves might be completely respectable heathens--and whether it exists, given the branching off of the elves before the Ages of the Sun, and then the continued diasporas, mixing, and then re-isolation that kind of occurs throughout it. Anyone who has ever even smelled my Tumblr or sniffed at one of my fics knows I am obsessed with woodelves and the potential complexities of non-Noldorin elven cultures, so that’s where most of my thinking has been. Why is this relevant? Because if we make some inferences from canon and start to fill in the rest logically, the culture and history of woodelves--those of Mirkwood in particular--quickly becomes one in which agnostic elves--or elves with non-Valar belief systems--becomes quickly possible.

Why? Here’s my thoughts.

Whatever you call them, the elves who lived east of the mountains--whether Avarin or Silvan--spent literally unknown years, thousands of years, apart from their non-Nandorin kin. Long enough for at least 7 semi-distinct Silvan and Avarin languages to form (and, like, these are elves--change takes time, yall), and likely more than that. Language and culture are inherently interconnected, which is something even Tolkien tells us, both straight-up and implicitly (i.e., Sindarin only having a word for Elf at one time, they had no names for themselves to distinguish them from other elves, because, well, they did not need one), so it is fair to argue, I think, that beliefs were evolving throughout this whole period as well, particularly in an oral culture. My point in saying this is--the Nandorin east of the Misty Mountains spent a helluva long time apart from other elves, and that is exactly how cultures, societies, religions, technologies, etc diverge and develop.

Meanwhile, these elves were harassed and harangued by Dark shit from Morgoth even before the Sun and the Moon showed up--which is why some of them eventually fled over the mountains following Denethor, etc--and Avarin elves would just straightup disappear sometimes during this time period. Clearly, things are dark (not a pun) and there is little evidence of higher intervention. While there might be a memory of the elves that at one point had also been in this area and traveled through when they did answer the call to Valinor, the Nandorin that are living east of the mountains have no way of knowing what happened to them at this point--they’re just gone, ostensibly disappeared, and who is to say the same thing hasn’t happened to them as has to those of their own folk who have been taken by the dark? My point in saying this is that there is little proof that wherever these [now] Eldarin elves left to even exists, and there is no proof that they are alive / better off than the Nandor themselves, but there is plenty of proof of terrible things, and very little of divine intervention.

As for the Nandorin elves who became the Green-elves west of the Mountains, within literally years of crossing the metaphorical border, they got swept up into the first war of Beleriand and frickin slaughtered, a la Mirkwood’s army at Dagorlad. (Why do wood-elves keep going into battlefield settings? Guys, stop.) And the reason they got slaughtered is because Denethor was like “Sure, Thingol, I’ll help you” and, well. Then the Laiquendi kind of split, and some peace out from Thingol and some follow him and blend in with his folk or live within the Girdle. AND THEN, shortly thereafter, the Noldor arrive back in Middle-earth and start making things special with all their Feanorian crap--Silmarils and betrayals and elven politics, oh my! Why does all this matter? Because even though these elves followed the path that the Valar-believing elves did before them, things absolutely DID NOT--I repeat--DID NOT get better. Furthermore, they then meet the Noldor, and while the Noldor are perhaps very smart and noble, it does not seem that being exposed to the magical nonsense of Valinor has made them any...happier. Even if in meeting the Noldor they are given reason to believe in Valinor--and in meeting the Sindar have reason to believe in the Valar, too--I’m not convinced I myself would find this compelling. So perhaps the Laiquendi aren’t as prone to agnosticism/atheism as Silvan & Avarin folk, but they have a pretty good reason to be disenchanted and, potentially, bitter.

Which brings us back again, finally, eastward, to the Woodelves wandering about in the Vales of Anduin and Mirkwood and Lorien. Still, mind you, living their lives on their own until--you guessed it--the Noldor f*ck shit up in Beleriand and make a shit-ton of Laiquendi and Sindarin and yes, even Noldorin, refugees. Speaking of Mirkwood specifically: We have Sindarin and, presumably some, Laiquendi (you can’t tell me that such a huge elven diaspora didn’t create cultural and ethnic admixture, I don’t buy it--in my head, some of the Danian/Denethorian greenelves end up back east of the Mountains thousands and thousands of years later in the Second Age) moving into previously unclaimed and/or Woodelven lands. For some reason or another, Oropher is not into Galadriel’s fam, and then some people split with them and end up in Mirkwood, across the river from G&C, which brings us to, finally, wood-elves’ beliefs about the Valar, Valinor, and Sealonging. (Almost, at least, we are getting there.)

Why does this matter? I’m going to guess that Oropher and his folk were not particularly fond of all the nonsense the Valar-obsessed Noldor rained down upon them for literal thousands of years--they literally became refugees because of Feanorian bullshit. Which means we are at a point of two or more cultures potentially merging--a disenchanted Sindarin folk and a significantly larger [and potentially agnostic!] woodelf folk, and while Tolkien is a bit wishy-washy on how Sindarin and Silvan language and culture worked together in his various writings, it does not seem unreasonable to think that Silvan culture--at least in many things--may have prevailed. (If it had been the Noldor moving into Mirkwood, I might have a different perspective, a la Spanish Catholocism in Latin America, but Oropher’s Sindar seem more like fierce but very tired folk who are ready to disappear into the woods at whatever cost.

Thus, my conclusion:

Disenchanted Sindar who saw things go to shit in Beleriand

[potentially] disenchanted Laiquendi whose folk were slaughtered and then unhomed due to Valar-related nonsense

Nandorin elves who literally had zero reasons to believe Valinor was not just some trick of the Darkness and may have, therefore, developed their own belief systems to explain the world

a high probability of agnostic and/or ...pagan(?) Woodelves by the Third Age

Short Rambling on Biological Drive of Valinor

The existence of Avarin elves seems to inherently undermine the idea that all elves hear a call. Why didn’t they care enough to leave ME to go see the Valar? The world may never know, but they gave zero flying flips about it, and then they merged with the remaining Silvan (those who just gave up, lmao) so we can only assume that there may be a diluted drive in entirely Nandorin elves east of the Misty Mountains, but it obviously still exists, because elves sail. (I mean, Tolkien probably said something contradictory about this somewhere because he had a lot of elves to keep up with and also he gave very few flying flips himself about woodelves, but oh well.)

So then we start to wonder if, for woodelves--including Sindarin-mixed woodelves--if the Sealonging might be experienced not just as a gift meant to guide one home but, rather, something more pathological, an illness with no relief. And, what’s more, for woodelves who do hear the call--and if they are of a distinctly oral culture variety, or are particularly isolate--do they even know what they are hearing? Might they not also think they are being driven to their own deaths, per the earlier excellent (and hilarious) lemming analogy? My conclusion is yeah, yes, quite possibly, even for those elves who are well-lettered or who do carry Sindarin/Eldarin blood. Legolas’ reaction to Galadriel’s message tells me all I need to know on that, imo--a woodelf who is at least partially of Sindarin blood gets a message about his fate in which “Beware of the sea!” is included, and he doesn’t automatically assume he is about to be struck by the cold cry of the gulls? He thinks it means she predicts his death? Like please, there is no way the Sealonging is a prominent topic of discussion in Mirkwood. And why would that be if not for some sort of...different beliefs that had developed in the intervening years, whether because of a desire to forget a painful past, a disbelief in higher powers, or a non-Valar religious system?

Also, I do want to note, that just because I believe wood-elves don’t “understand” Sealonging or have potentially written much of the Valar out of their belief systems, it does not mean I agree that they are uncultured and “less wise,” given that the Valar, well, do exist. (I literally grew up in Appalachia which is often considered the uncultured capital of America and we are the butt of everyone’s jokes, so I actually have a very very soft spot for every even vaguely “backwoods” culture in fantasy. I project onto woodelves in mightily unhealthy ways.)

I think I may capture better what I mean in my fanfics than I do in my rambling, so there’s a few bits under the cut to see if it comes across better.

"It is not as we first feared," whispered Legolas, placating; he had closed his eyes—so it was a surprise. "It is not death."

"It is as good as!" Gimli yelled. "It is as good as to those you would willingly leave behind!"

"You think I succumb to this willingly?" Legolas cried, and he surprised himself with the outburst.

He opened his eyes and stared at Gimli as if he were the only one privy to their conversation; his gaze was intense and his countenance fierce, and his fork quivered slightly in his hand.

"It is not willingly that I would give in to this thing that pulls me away from the only home I have known—no more willingly than I would fall to a foe on the battlefield!

"I do not feel terror, Gimli;" he hissed. "I am not often scared. But there is a force that frightens me with its bewitching demands and blissful promises. And I am not sure I even believe there is anything beyond the Sundering Sea! For my people have not seen it."

"So it could be death, then," Gimli countered. "You may sail down the river with not but a few months' supplies and then find no rest at journey's end. You may die instead alone and adrift on a ship in the middle of the sea—that is suicide!"

His own mother had faded after Thranduil returned from war, and Gwaerain's… Gwaerains's mother Dûnnaniel had been considering leaving for the Havens when grief took her first—the unsurety of Valinor, to her Silvan mind, paired with the devastation of her soul at the loss of her husband and son had been too much for her to handle, despite the urgent pleas of her own daughter that she either sail or persevere. Reassurance from Gwaerain that Thranduil had known Noldor who had crossed from there—elves who had seen it themselves—that he had watched his own green-elven kin sail thither in long Ages past was not enough—it was a myth and a mystery to her, and the decision was not made quickly enough and, so, she left them—

Years later, I found out from Estel that Legolas did not know what had happened to him that day, and that he walked into battle on the fields of the Pelennor with a fear he was losing his mind. How lucky he was to come out of that battle with only minor hurts, so lucky that the only thing he had lost was a well-fitted tunic…It is one of only a few things I have regretted this Age—holding my silence—for Legolas is younger than even Arwen, and he grew in a land where the Sea-longing was a mythical affliction of ages past. Regardless of his strangeness to me, it was my duty as one of Elven blood for whom the Sea holds some sway to have offered what comfort I could. I have never been able to admit to Aragorn that I sent one of his dearest friends into battle with a sickened heart, when I might have done something to protect it.

So here’s a thought. The Undying Lands are almost always Elf Only. They are also not the sort of place one returns from. And, because only elves can reach them (since canonically the world is flat for elves and round for everyone else) any mortal who tried would just end up on the other side of middle earth. So, like. I’d bet anything that it’s sort of an open question anywhere even a little hostile/untrusting of elves whether or not Aman actually exists.

Do they think the elves are being driven to their deaths? Do they whisper in taverns that it’s the cost of that long life????? Do they call it the Lemming Instinct where elves can’t hear????????? I need answers

#sealonging #valinor #valar #agnostic elves #woodelves #legolas #mirkwood #elves #my meta #literally i ramble so much in this and i'm so sorry #also this is kind of #silmarillion

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garden-of-succulents · 8 years ago

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I've taken some time to think over and process recent criticisms that people have made of me. Thank you to everyone for being patient while I took this time to reflect--I think that a brief review of my behaviour in the past has shown that I often respond poorly and clumsily in the heat of the moment, and these conversations benefit when I give them the thought and effort they deserve.

I am responding to people whose direct responses to me, or public commentary, seemed to indicate they wanted some sort of response from me. I hope I've addressed everyone; please let me know if I've missed anyone. I have also, as was requested, cleared out my OMGCP-related blocklist.

Briefly, about that: I have, in the past, blocked people for two main reasons. The first is that they're producing fannish content (fic, art, or meta) that triggers my anxiety, which my body reacts very poorly to; the other is that I have disagreed with them about something, but know that they are significantly younger/less privileged than I am, and blocking is one of the tools I use to make sure I don't impulsively strike up an unfair argument about something unimportant.

I would like to apologize for the distress and insult my blocking users caused them; it was not intended. I have been investigating ways to curate my online experience to what I can manage with mental health that varies from day to day, with less of a negative effect on other people and maintains their ability to draw my attention to important conversations.

Although I believe listening to criticism is important, especially on topics where I am privileged or ignorant, this is something I have to balance with my mental and physical health; I have to carefully budget time and energy to engage with it when I am capable of thinking clearly and deeply. Sometimes I'm able to seek out and read criticism, but sometimes I'm not. I miss conversations or misunderstand peoples' points. I know this is frustrating to people who do not have the luxury of ignoring or escaping these issues in their daily lives, and I'm sorry.

On a practical note, I am taking pains to make sure that people can contact me through my des-zimbits account, but I should make clear that unfortunately, I cannot accept anon messages and I am very unpredictable about seeing things written on blogs I do not follow; my friends are not in the habit of telling me about criticism made by third parties. There have been times that I only found out long after the fact that someone has put enormous amounts of time and energy into critiquing my behaviour on their blog, and become upset that I have not responded or changed. In those circumstances, I never saw the original posts in the first place. I don't have a complete solution for this, but I encourage people to tag me or message me a post they think I should see; if you don't want to deal with me thereafter, just say, "Don't reply."

I am making this apology not in hope that anyone will change their opinion of me or forgive me. I know that people of colour in this fandom are frustrated by white fans' inability to listen and respond in a way that makes things better, and I know that my own behaviour has contributed to that. My sincere desire here is to make it plain that I am willing to listen and try, and perhaps even make other fans feel that they can directly approach me with their frustrations and concerns.

I am beyond grateful to the fans of colour who have expended energy and time educating me, criticizing me, talking to me, and helping me. Your willingness to be open about your feelings and experiences, and to speak truth to power, have been unspeakably helpful in helping me see my blind spots, and understand the effect my behaviour has on other people. I know that it takes a lot of energy and courage it takes to speak about such a painful and infuriating subject. I want to thank the people who, despite my resistance at times, continue to engage me in these issues. Your feedback is valuable and appreciated.

@dexydex and @georgiapeche, re: this post

You’re right, I haven’t been responding correctly to your criticism. I’ve taken it too personally instead of taking a step back to consider your perspectives in a more nuanced and empathetic way. Thank you for all of the emotional labor you’ve expended up until this point trying to get through to me. I’m sorry that I’ve made it your responsibility to teach me what I’m doing wrong rather than go out and learn for myself. I’ve been complacent in the ways I’ve interacted with my own privilege. I’m sorry that my apologies have fallen flat time and time again. I’m sorry I haven’t done enough yet to unlearn my implicit racism. This is something I will increase my efforts to address and correct in the future. It is not your job to forgive me. It is not your job to absolve me of any ill will.

phillipsheabutter, re: this post

You're right; Kent's behaviour in canon is cruel and abusive, which Nursey's isn't. My response to them is very backwards the usual responses. I am especially sorry that my answer about him didn't address the word "hate", so I flatly said that I "hated" him, which is a strong and unwarranted negative assessment to make of his behaviour. This was especially wrong of me because the behaviour I was criticizing is a response many Black readers identify with, to the experience of having their emotional responses intensely policed and invalidated. It is a testament of my ignorance and prejudice that I felt this perspective was something I could choose to discard when thinking about him.

As to how I struggle to have empathy for one behaviour but not the other, I can't offer any excuse for my racism, but I can briefly explain: I’ve tried to articulate in the past that Kent’s narrative strongly evokes people and relationships that have been incredibly formative for me, and that I have dedicated years of personal searching and academic study to understanding Kent's kind of extreme behaviour and maintaining relationships with people who display it. My relationship to invalidating behaviour is still too raw and painful to talk about in detail, but in short, it was something I had powerfully negative experiences with when I was young, and as an adult I have found it deeply distressing when it was directed at me; I have embraced a career based around validating emotions. I hadn't yet truly realized the extent to which it is used as a coping mechanism by African Americans--the majority of Black people I have known have been first- or second-generation Canadians hailing from Africa or the Carribean, who have had expressed different cultural and racial experiences to me, and I haven't consumed enough American media to truly understand where Nursey is coming from. I struggle to relate to him as much as I do to characters like Ransom whose cultural experiences and coping mechanisms are more familiar to me.

In equating Nursey to generic white hipsters I encountered this behaviour from, I was erasing his Blackness in favor of pointing to an implied socioeconomic privilege that in no way makes up for or safeguards him from the experiences of being a Black man living in the United States. That wasn’t just wrong of me, it was careless and racist.

There’s a lot to his character that I’ve yet to explore and it was wrong of me to say I hate him when I haven’t done enough work to understand who he is or where he comes from. I'm going to work more to expand my knowledge and find deeper empathy for him.

@oluranurse, re: this post

You’re right, I keep making the same mistakes over again. I can understand how frustrating it feels when a larger blog says repeatedly that they will be different, and better, but the results are disappointing at best. I can only hope that by taking the time to listen, really listen, to your feedback, that someday I won’t have to apologize for my mistakes (because they will few and far apart).

I realize that as someone who doesn't have Borderline Personality Disorder, it is potentially problematic that I am so invested in its fictional depiction, especially given the extreme stigma against the disorder by members of my own profession. As I've explained before, however, it's a condition I've had significant personal experience with, and writing about mental health issues helps me build the skills that may let me someday write coherently about my own C-PTSD. What's more, I am not pulling these conditions out of nowhere or treating them lightly; I'm a licensed mental health professional, and I take a great deal of care to root my mental health headcanons in close analysis of the source material. The diagnoses I suggest for characters are by no means the ultimate truth about them and alternate perceptions of them are wholly plausible

I would like to talk more about your classification of BPD as "a mental illness that fandom likes to give to characters that have 'bad attitudes'," but on a separate occasion where that discussion doesn’t detract from the real conversation we’re having here.

In reference to the disagreement I had with brenbits, I still believe that the way they engaged me could have been more direct, and less heated, from the start. But I respect that other users confront issues they find problematic differently.

In reference to my post about dealing with criticism, I understand that the tone implied something much different than what I intended. I was attempting to be a resource for content creators who feel discouraged by discourse and offer show them how to respond to said criticism in a thoughtful and nuanced way. I realize how ironic that may sound considering some of my past responses. I know that in that post it sounds like I will apologize and defend every microaggression and racist comment that comes my way. That was never the case, but I’m sorry I did such a poor job of articulating that. Times that I have provided this service include helping writers find essays written by members of minorities about common difficulties or pitfalls in depictions of their experiences, or in helping them personally connect with someone who has the cultural competency to assess a situation, and is willing to expend the emotional labour of providing an author with a critique.

With regard to the time that I answered the question, "Are genderbends transphobic?" I shouldn't have answered, given that I am cis. I will make an effort in the future not to summarize trans peoples' opinions, and step back to amplify the voices of trans people who have already made their thoughts accessible.

I feel that the fandom should do more to support content creators and to talk through (especially with younger creators) what they could be doing better in terms of representation. I do understand, however, that doesn’t mean members of the fandom should have to stand for racist and stereotypical content and/or be grateful that it even exists.

You’re right, I’ve been complacent and racist in how I treat POC characters. I need to take a step back, consume more media and academic material related to the experiences of these characters. I need to immerse myself in the positive representations and transformative works this fandom already has for these characters. I need to make these already available transformative works more visible by interacting with them on my blog in ways that are supportive and enriching. I need do more to change my racist thoughts and tendencies because this is a comic made by a WOC that seeks to better minority representation and inclusion in the sports world. I need to be more present in how my behavior affects the experiences of others in this fandom.

I also concede that I do not understand the inherent danger that POC and trans people endure daily. I cannot take your concerns for granted just because I don’t understand them at first. It’s my personal responsibility to seek out information and understanding. I’m also sorry that I have focused more on my personal reaction to criticism rather than on the concerns raised about my behavior. I have many privileges in this fandom, I need to do a better job of utilizing them properly.

@eriquebittle, re: this post

You’re right, my apology focused too much on my feelings and not how my actions have hurt others. I was attempting to start a conversation I wasn’t ready to engage in properly. My apology was lackluster and nothing new at best. As I’m addressing in other posts, I am working on active change. From now on, I'll give the performative white guilt a rest and focus on listening and changing my behaviour.

@senor-lapin, re: this post

I meant what I said about doing my best. However, my apology was neither warranted in the way I handled it nor effective at articulating how I’m taking steps to fix my racist thoughts and actions. As I’ve addressed previously, I have removed the blocks I placed on other members of OMGCP fandom and will work in the future not to exclude them from the discussion. I will listen, research, and reflect for as long as I need to in order to understand my critics. That is the least I owe them.

@duanlarissa, re: this post

I was ineffective in trying to articulate or consider an intersectionality between neurodivergence and racial identity. The way I addressed Nursey and Dex’s relationship was very simplistic and downright racist. There’s a lot of nuance to their relationship that I haven’t begun to explore and shouldn’t have commented on. Nursey has every right to negotiate Dex’s behavior in a way that keeps him both mentally and physically safe.

@onethousandroaches, re: this post

It isn’t worse. You’re right.

In trying to dissect different aspects of his personality, I was not only minimizing his experiences and struggles, but othering and essentializing him. It was racist. I was racist. I need to consider and accept every part of his identity. I need to take a hard look at what I haven’t liked about him in the past, accept that I’ve been narrow minded and prejudiced, and unlearn those tendencies. I need to set a better example of how white fans should support characters of colour (especially Black characters in a fandom created by a Black woman). I need to use the privilege I have (as a white person, as a popular blog) to support this character and the people who enjoy him. All of him.

#race in fandom discourse #stuff i wrote

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