@wondersammy đ
Is anyone tired of hearing me talk about this yet?
TOO BAD.
Ahem.
To talk of my pride and joy, I must first speak of Shame and Denial.
No. Really. They're 2 fics called Shame and Denial.
Shame has been one of my favorite fanfics for many, many years. Rarely, if ever, have I seen its like. A torrid teacher/student affair of which Harry is deeply ashamed. He's embarrassed by Severus. He is humiliated thinking of what his peers will think and say.
To me, this is quite human, and so real considering Harry's age in the story (a teenager), Severus' reputation (not good), and their history (really not good.)
In many stories, Harry is the Boy Wonder. He is the paragon of all that is good and righteous. His moral compass never fails. Not Harry Potter's! (And y'all are really expecting too much from a deeply traumatized child, let me tell you.)
No shame, btw (ba-dum-tsst.) I understand why people see the appeal in a model hero. I just don't myself. I deeply craved more of this messed up Harry. The one who doesn't always think and feel and do the right thing. The one who is selfish, sometimes. And cruel, sometimes. One who can really hurt someone he cares about, even if he doesn't mean to.
And the angst potential, c'mon!!
Then we get to Denial. Here, Harry is desperate. Here, Harry wants to love Ginny, and make his life work the way it should. Here, Harry is confused. In denial, even. (I am hilarious, aren't I?) (Oh so clever, Self, excellent work.) Harry doesn't really understand himself. He makes mistakes. Life is a bit of a jumbled mess, and so is he. Again, Harry hurts people he cares about. And he goes to Severus not with the purest or most selfless of intentions. Here Harry is again focused on himself, and his own wants and needs. Severus isn't his first choice, not at first.
And Severus, well...in both of these stories, Severus takes what he can get.
The pattern you may see is my undying devotion to deeply flawed, tragically human characters. I've seen enough characters at their best; to really know someone, you have to see their worst alongside it. I don't often see odes to the darkest, dirtiest parts of human nature. But to me, to love something, you must love all of it.
For better, or worse.
I love these characters (Harry and Severus) so much, and their relationship so much (my beloved OTP, my precious Snarry); I have explored them in many scenarios. And what I always feel like I never have enough of is digging into the depths of them. Digging into the gutters of their hearts and minds. Digging up blood and bones as much as heart and soul.
And thus....Contempt.
The first inklings of this story came to me long ago. Maybe the day I read Shame for the first time. That was so long ago, I can't quite recall. But that fic planted within me a burning need for more. I longed for more stories like it; more of the characterizations and the dynamic it provided me.
It was quite vague at first. Harry is ashamed of Severus; Harry hurts Severus; Harry, imperfect in heart and mind; Severus is mean and ugly, and I must be unforgiving with it. Then, the details came. Student/teacher affair. Severus' appearance. The scene in Severus' quarters. The stripping. The desperate kiss. Harry trying so hard to keep in mind all of Severus' faults, and the full catalogue of them only reinforces to Harry how madly in love he is.
There is more to the story. I've been dreaming of it for quite a long time. I know how the whole story plays out, really; beginning to end. Their end, mind you, not the story's end.
The past couple of years I've felt more called to this story, but I kept putting it off. I always had other projects, and this project...This project was the project. I was a bit scared of it, I think. Intimidated by the depth of it, and intimidated by my love of it. It would have to be perfect. And I didn't know what I would do with myself if I couldn't pull it off.
Then...Snarry-a-Thon 2022. I decided to self-prompt. And my self-prompt would be the story of my soul, at last. I figured I would need an external source to really give me the push I needed. Besides, I always wanted to participate in Snarry-a-Thon at least once.
To put it mildly, writing for Thon was hell. H e l l. My poor, dear friends had to listen to me whine near daily.
Oddly, the end came to me first. I was in the shower when it happened. The very last paragraph fully formed. I had figured out where, exactly, to end the story. The perfect open ending that I'm oh so fond of. Let me tell you, I leapt from the shower and ran out into the living room, naked and dripping wet, to grab my phone and type it up immediately. I was not losing that train of thought for anything on Planet Earth.
(Yes, my partner was Most Pleased by the view.) (Also: yes, I was very embarrassed once the madness loosened its grip on me and I realized what a scene I'd caused.) (And: yeah I did go back to finish my shower.)
The beginning was a little harder, but not by much. I got myself swept up in Harry's rage and humiliation and thus was born: One day, heâs going to hex Snapeâs giant nose off of his stupid face. Heâll rip the nasty, greasy hair right out of his head.
Maybe it's not the nicest mental image, but it's interesting, no?
I found that Harry's awareness of his feelings spooked him; amped everything up to 110%. That boy is a total mess. Confused, guilty, ashamed, angry, relieved, overjoyed; torn between hate and love and terrible longing. Love doesn't cure him, doesn't fix him, doesn't uplift him. Love is terrifying. And awful. And much too much.
Perhaps you can see what gave me such trouble. Harry, my POV character, is a mess. How am I, the writer, meant to easily navigate said mess?? His heart in shambles, his mind in knots; what on earth was I meant to do? But I felt like such a failure for not unwinding it all so quickly and easily; a failure for all the trouble it gave me. This story had been heavy on my heart and mind for years and years. Shouldn't I have it all figured out?
It wasn't only that, of course. The intensity of the emotion was overwhelming. I'm quite an emotional person, easily swept up by passions and terrors. Many times I sat, paralyzed by the depth of feeling. When your heart is full to bursting or breaking, how are you meant to think of words at all, let alone put them down?
Every word was hard won, and ripped from flesh and bone. I pried it from my soul with teeth and nails. It was an agonizing process.
This feels quite dramatic and embarrassing to say out loud, but I really was quite distraught. Caught up, and seemingly useless for it.
Then: the word count.
Oh boy, the word count.
My friends can tell you about my word count and I. Foolish me thinking I could manage this whole story in a few thousand words. (Spoiler: I did not. It's 20,400 words.)
I specialize in ficlets, okay? I've written many a short fic in my time! I know how to pack a punch in very few words. But this? This story was not content with a few thousand words. It demanded more and more from me.
And, really...how was I meant to do Harry's mindset any justice in fewer words?
The story needed to be longer, yet it overwhelmed me. And I feared it was too many words. That the story was dragging. That readers would be bored. That it rambled too long. But I couldn't hack off more words and maintain the integrity of this story. Contempt needed to be what it ended up being, regardless of all my fretting.
I battled my own perfectionism. My own messy emotions. The mess that was Harry. The bitterness that was Severus. The twisted, misshapen shackles of their love. The deadline. The word count. The immense pressure and vulnerability in telling this story. The fear that it would appeal to no one; that all the messy, flawed characterizations would turn people off. That people would actively hate the story that I loved so much.
Writing is so deeply personal. Sharing it is more so. And I've never felt such horror sharing a work as I did in sharing Contempt.
That story is my pride and joy. I don't know that I've written anything better. And I feel so incredibly accomplished that I successfully told that story. It really is so very special to me.
And every bit of kindness left on that fic means the world to me, truly. To everyone who's read it and left me kudos and comments, from the bottom of my heart I thank you. I know I've replied to every comment, but let me say it again: thank you. It really means more than you know.
This fic was a great labor of love. I could not be more pleased with the outcome. It was worth all of the hair pulling and banging my head into walls. The fact that so many people have seen my vision and it spoke to them is just...truly, truly indescribably wonderful.
Thus: why I can't shut up about this fic. How am I meant to shut up about something I love so much????
it can be therapeutic to admit "actually my childhood was deeply fucking awful." not "my parents tried" or "there were good times too" or "I was lucky in certain ways" but solely to acknowledge "I went though some fucking messed up shit what the fuck was that about "
Oh fuck yes Twitter is bringing back the 1970âs Maoist approach to gayness
Gentle reminder here that there are elder queers out there. Real elders, people in their 80s and 90s who survived, who are here. You can get there, old age does exist for us.
I know an old lesbian couple who have been married since the moment they legalized it. One woman can hardly walk anymore but she loves Hallmark ornaments, so her wife supports her against her walker during Christmas so she can look at them more easily.
I know a transgender man who started transitioning only 10 years ago at 60, and he's brilliant and funny and brings his grandchildren by to get sweets.
I know an asexual woman who, beamed and told me she absolutely loved not having a husband, and that she "never once regretted not getting married. I never felt that way about anybody! Why force it?" She lives with her parrot and loves salsa dancing.
Our elders exist. So many of us have been wiped out and erased on purpose, but we're here. And that means you can get there. When you're old and grey, when you're retired and done, there will be people who will love you and will care for you.
The Disney Company has made itâs back-catalog of work the foundation of the corporation since the 90â˛s. While at the same time, distancing themselves from the ugly realities that plague the companies history. Covering them up in hopes that the public forgets. Racism, animal abuse, and their now-obscure, former-superstar, young Bobby Driscoll.Â
The Disney Company, while so-often celebrating their âmasterpiece collectionâ of films, and âDisney Legendsâ such as Mary Blair, Annette Funicello and Kathryn Beaumont, the name Bobby Driscoll remains conveniently left out. This is entirely intentional.
Who is Bobby Driscoll?
Discovered in a barber shop at the age of 5, Bobby was the first actor to ever be signed under-contract by Disney Studios. In 1946, his starring role in Song of the South made him an overnight sensation. At one point, he was the highest paid child actor in Hollywood. Soon, he was Disneyâs golden-goose, with films like Melody Time, So Dear to My Heart and Treasure Island. He even won an Academy Award for his performance in the film noir, the Window.
Today, he is best remembered as the voice and live-action model of the titular Peter Pan.
What Happened to Bobby Driscoll?
Despite his success, Bobby could never seem to please his parents. They physically abused him, and kept him locked in a closet for hours at a time. Sometimes, all night. When Bobby was around 9, the beatings became so bad Disney temporarily moved the boy in with the family of his co-star, Luana Patten. They could not shoot, after all, if their star was battered and bruised.
When shooting wrapped, he went back home. Child abuse was still extremely normalized during this time, and was also an accepted method of getting a good performance out of a child. Many of Bobbyâs contemporaries describe being slapped in the face or being manhandled by adults as every-day occurrences on set.
Around this time, Walt Disney himself became fixated on Driscoll, Marc Elliot stating Walt often referred to Bobby as âthe living embodiment of his own youth.â He saw the child as an extension of himself, and ignored Bobbyâs own identity. Bobby was susceptible to the attention and latched onto Walt as a father figure. He came to see Disney Studios as a family, and indeed âUncle Waltâ encouraged this idea, especially among his child performers. One former animator described feeling uncomfortable by seeing higher-ups kiss Bobby on the face and mouth.
During Bobbyâs pre-teen years, he was signed to a new 7-year contract and given a substantial raise of $1750 per week. Bizarrely, Bobby was now making the most money he ever would, while actually working less than ever before.Â
He was cast in the leading role of Peter Pan, as both the voice and visual inspiration for the character. Peter had Bobbyâs wide eyes, and upturned nose. If you watch any Bobby Driscoll movie, and then watch Peter Pan in motion, you can easily see the characterâs every facial expression and mannerism taken directly from Driscoll. His expressive eyebrows, nose-scrunching, even down to the way he positions his wrists.
As Bobby got older, Walt stopped speaking affectionately of him in meetings. He stated Bobby was no longer likeable enough to play protagonists. Meanwhile, Peter Pan was released, and is a massive hit.
In 1953, Bobby began to hear rumours he would be fired. He tried asking the higher-ups he was formerly friendly with, but none would speak to him. He went to Waltâs secretary, asking to speak to Mr. Disney. She refused to call him, and when Bobby asked again, she abruptly told him he was no longer needed and to get out.
Stunned, Bobby burst into tears. She called security, and had the boy escorted off of Disney property. Disney Studios told the press they had let Bobby go due to an extreme case of acne, which sullied his image with other movie studios.Â
Personally, I donât buy the acne explanation. Acne can be covered, and Disney was focusing heavily on television at this time, which had terrible picture quality compared to film. Not to mention, Walt had already talked about shifting Bobby into playing unlikeable bully characters. But the true reason for the cancellation of Bobbyâs seven year contract may never be known.
Unable to find work, Bobbyâs parents enrolled him in public school. He was mercilessly bullied for his Disney roles, being beaten up by his classmates constantly. He stated he âbecame afraid all the timeâ, and it was at this time he began experimenting with drugs.
After being imprisoned for possession of marijuana, he was eventually sentenced to a ârehab centreâ. The so-called first of itâs kind, employed no doctors or nurses, and used abusive psychiatric practices now outlawed.
During this time, Disney was making millions off of the heavy merchandising of Peter Pan. Bobby never saw a dime from this, despite his likeness being used.
Bobbyâs life remained difficult, and although he had a few more acting roles, and became a talented artist in the beatnik scene, he just couldnât make enough money to get by.
He died on March 30th 1968, aged 31, without a penny to his name. Alone, and forgotten. He was found on a dirty cot in an abandoned building. His body was unidentified, and police could not find anyone who recognized him. He was buried in a mass grave, unmarked, on Hart Island.Â
Eventually, his mother asked Disney to help find him, and he was finally identified through finger prints. Although, his remains were not moved to a cemetery, which would have been possible at the time.
The public did not learn of Bobbyâs death until 1973, when Song of the South was re-released in theatres. After his death had been reported, actress Jane Wyman insinuated in an interview that Bobby had been sexually abused while working for Disney.
Erasure of Bobby by Disney
As mentioned above, Bobby has never been named an official âDisney Legendâ, despite fan petitions and letter-writing campaigns since the start of the program in the late 80â˛s.
Both the Peter Pan VHS, and DVD making-of featurettes only mention Bobby Driscoll in passing. Compared to the Alice in Wonderland DVD, which features an entire documentary about Aliceâs voice actress.
The DVD release of So Dear to My Heart was cancelled without explanation. Years later, it was quietly released as a Disney Movie Club Exclusive. Making it rare and difficult to find.
Fan requests for a memorial to Bobby Driscoll in Disney Parks have also gone unanswered. Disney will likely never own up to Bobby Driscoll, or what the company did to him. His story is tragic, and paints the company in an uncomfortable light, going directly against itâs branding of love, family and happy endings. After all, if the average joe-blows and Karens of the world knew what happened to Bobby Driscoll, they might cancel their Disney+ subscription. And Disney certainly doesnât want that to happen.
I donât think I could talk about The Sandman on here because, like, Neil Gaiman is here, just hanging out. Iâd be like âOh, I like how they visualized this one scene, it was different from the comics but I donât think they original comics visualizations would have worked in live action â or whatever And then Neil Gaiman might appear like âYeah, we were having trouble figuring out how to do that scene until one of our production designers had a vivid hallucination while eating a 3AM Gyro purchased from an all-night food truck outside the Bass Pro Shop pyramidâ and I donât think Iâm ready for that experience. Alternatively, I could say âDream is a little too scrungly to be a classic Tumblr Sexyman, but he is prime meow-meow blorbo materialâ and Neil Gaiman might appear and say âYeah, we were having trouble figuring out the exact ratio of Sexyman, poor little meow meow, and Blorbo, but the final characterization appeared to Tom Sturridge in a vivid hallucination while eating a 3AM Gyro purchased from an all-night food truck outside the Bass Pro Shop pyramidâ and I donât think Iâm ready for THAT either.
@wonderingsam @chronosfear is it bad that there's no token straight among us?
âitâs unrealistic for so many of them to be gayâ
shut up shut up shut UP every single person in my 3rd grade friend group turned out to be queer (except for one, the token straight guy) and there were EIGHT of us. queer people find each other, even if they donât know theyâre queer.
Geena Davis in "Earth Girls Are Easy" (dir. Julien Temple - 1988)
If you're in a pinch and thread and needles are unavailable, I'd recommend using superglue to hold yourself together
i love having a corporeal form. i love eating warm food on cold days. i love taking hot showers. i love sleeping on clean sheets. i delight in earthly decadence. i wake up and eat warm bread slathered in butter. i own multiple pairs of soft fuzzy socks. this body is so comfy and i'm not returning it any time soon
OH Yeah we have đ
https://m.fanfiction.net/u/119117/Cithara
This is one of my favorite active authors on Fanfiction.net. This person has 25 stories posted over there, is currently updating a new one titled Call Me Friend But Keep Me Closer(HP/George W.), and just finished one called Memoryâs Pale Reflection, which is one of my absolute favorite HP/SS. This author has done an outstanding job of getting me tuned in (and turned on) to DM/Remus L. with the story Just Sex. Thereâs also a story called Oneâs Man Treaaon, which features DM/Bill W. that is very well done. Youâll find that this author has done some of the best HP/Ron W. Brave New World (HP/SS; DM/RW) may have been this authorâs most popular work, but Iâd like to do a special mention to An Honourable Man (HP/SS; DM/RW).
me, soaking up all that gay shit