Author has written 7 stories for Harry Potter, and Vampire Diaries.
Asking who's the "man" and who's the "woman" in a gay relationship is like going to a Chinese restaurant and asking which chopstick is the fork.
hallo, James here.
oranges and leather boots: the things upon which I feed.
Notes about Jamie:
I really don't write fanfiction because I consider it to be great art. Nor do I care very much about any particular fandoms or characters, other than a mild affection for some, of the kind that I also feel for marshmallow peeps, strawberries, and my neighbor's cat, Dimitri. The point of all this is that what I write here, I write either because I'm bored with work on my own novel (if some recalcitrant muse had decided to make YOU write about a Korean boy with a mental illness who loves dancing, you would shirk sometimes too, because that gets HEAVY) or because I like amusing people. I write this stuff for people to read and enjoy if they're feeling down, and I love thinking that, maybe, there are people out there who do enjoy it in a vague way, because I know that there are times when all it takes is a cup of tea and a sit-down with something really, REALLY trashy to read to save you from complete and total mental breakdown. So please, please, tell me if you like what's here--and I will be happy to write more of what you like to read, or something new that you request. I won't care if I've never spoken to you before, or even if you're human: if you feel like talking to me, about anything whatsoever, I'll talk back. I'm nice, like that.
I have a pet tortoise. Anyone who loves them, do tell me about it.
I'm happily bi. Please deal with it. I say this out of genuine concern for your health, because being mean is very like the Cold War. If you threaten to bomb someone, then they (i.e. I) will probably return the favor. Then, you will spend a long time in a very silly war in which fairly little actually happened, and afterwords you will put a lot of effort into hating a group of people who, while they may wear silly fur hats and produce large amounts of mindbogglingly depressing literature, also have real contributions to make, which could make you a happier person. (i.e. vodka. Or something.) And you will be so busy disliking them indiscriminately that you will waste time you could have spend improving the world yourself. So, go work towards world peace or something, and leave people who aren't like you alone. Because if you don't, I can probably prove that you are a lot more like them than you thought you were.
I'm happily bi. Please for the sake of all that isn't holy, do not tell me how gay sex works. 87.6% of the people on this site do not know, and the rest of you are probably crazy. Not that I don't love you, but still.
I will draw fan art for anybody, any fandom, too, provided that you ask me moderately nicely. (some art can be viewed at my deviantart, along with various of my comics and shit.)
--Notes on Fics (aka my list of peeves. If you are thinking to yourself as you read--first of all congratulations, you are a gifted multitasker--that this list sounds a lot more like me being nasty about things I see in other people's work...you would be correct. But I am specifically saying that these are things I have seen and learned from, and I also explain why I believe them to be unwise, in the hope that casual readers of this page may be swayed. Repent, ye sinners. *Ahem*)
(Is anyone actually reading this casually?)
There aren't a whole lot of things that I won't write or read.
Okay, except for mpreg, which I object to, perhaps uniquely, for reasons OTHER than the fact that it is ridiculous. No, I object to it because it is also very boring, or at least is a way of getting out of writing about something more interesting. Tell me about the difficulties involved in talking child services into letting them adopt, or the tangled and complex human interactions that occur with the foster mother, or the bloody awesome gadget invention that creates a baby from their combined blood samples! Whatever! Creativity is cool!
I also will not write or read sex scenes--(no, wait that's not where it ends. don't worry, I love writing about sex)--which contain A FULL YEAR'S WORTH OF DIALOGUE. Have you ever read something where the characters talk more during sex than in the entire rest of their relationship? This is just awkward, except when they start talking about how good it feels, when it becomes INFINITELY more than just awkward. My characters will not talk when screwing. I am sorry. (Except for the necessaries, i.e. "Where did you put the lube, Bob? I can't bloody well find it" vs. "Anything that involves phrases like 'I want to feel your giant cock.'" I want to know what is wrong with good old "fuck me." No one says that these days. I miss it.)
Post-shower scenes. ... ... Okay, I'm fighting with myself here. Because everyone knows that half-naked people dripping with water are hot. Yet on the other hand, I am beginning to have trouble remembering the last time I read a fic which did not contain one, or a 'old fashioned' equivalent if the fic be a historical (Yes. I do know that there is so much sex in what I read and write because I only read absolute romantic trash when I'm online. Or really gory action, but never mind that) And yes, romances do sort of have to have the same elements sometimes, because honestly all romance is basically...romance. I accept this. But there is a limit to acceptable similarity, and it is exemplified in one thing: the towel. Or, more specifically, this phrase: "The towel that (note: occasional inserted word: 'barely') clung to his slender (alternate word for interest? 'slim'!) hips.'
I have never found a fic with the aforementioned scene in which this line is not used. Exactly this line. I mean, just once could we have something new, something fresh? like:
Following Robert's over-warm gaze, he too looked down at himself and shook his head. "I know," he said. "I've been meaning to lose a few pounds there. This towel barely fits, and it's getting really clingy."
Robert, unable to make a sound, continued to stare at Edward's hips, barely concealed beneath the towel that revealed far too much skin for his peace of mind. Good Lord, but his thighs were large. Robert had to swallow hard to reign in his completely inappropriate reactions.
See? Not that hard, is it?
I hold that if one starts out in a tense, one should damn well finish in the same one. It is possible to write about the "future" in the past, or the earlier past in the past. You do not need to change the temporal setting of your story to do this. If you do not know what I mean, then you will not care, or probably notice that my writing adheres to this belief. If you do, then you will probably write me snarky comments pointing out when I am wrong. If so, I will probably love you.
The same goes for perspectives: I really do not believe in writing the thoughts of a third person character in the first person, especially in the way that sometimes happens where it's hard to tell whether it's meant to be the character or author speaking. If I am inserting my own--the author's-- point of view, you will be able to tell because it looks like this. hello. I am James. this is Bob now: Bob turned the volume on his stereo higher, and wept in silent despair. His life might as well be over. See that? the "he's" and the "hises"? Yes, that is how you pluralize it. That is Bob thinking! Not me! I do not endorse suicide, and while I am not sure who Bob might be or what the heck his problem is, I'm sure that reasoned analysis of the situation would conclude that death is not his only option. Yet I made it seem like it was, as if you were inside his very head! Amazing. (This standard is slightly more mutable, because I follow it with the utmost dedication unless I think of a really funny line I need to use.)
Alright. I can't ignore it anymore. Topaz. Agate. Cerulean. Lazuline. Do you people have any idea what those words actually mean, and thus why it is patently ridiculous to keep on using them to describe somebody's eyes? Yes, I understand the concept of metaphor. But, to put it classily, as I always try to, the difference between I stared into his eyes, marveling at the depths of pure blue and I marveled at his cerculean orbs is closely akin to that between Bob had an enormous wang and Bob lowered his pants to reveal a wang the size of a fire hydrant. Really. Do you get what I'm saying here? Sometimes less is better, especially if you're making up new meanings to fancy-sounding adjectives. (Also...I hate to keep picking on the poor person who used it and kindled my ire, but you do realize that lazuline--were it, in fact, a word, which it ain't (and I'm not going to condemn made up words because hell, I use them all the time, but I do it carefully)(and did it follow the pattern I believe they were thinking of, making it more like lazulian: or wait, ignore that, I see they must have been thinking of adamantine, which makes me fonder of them despite the fact that I still think they've sort of committed more than a few crimes against written language and humanity in general. Also the base of that word is not adamanti, so the suffix is not simply ne, making it lazuli plus ine equals luzuliine. Intriguing...)--would simply mean "having the qualities of lapis lazuli". so...
His eyes that were hard and probably quite uncomfortable
His eyes that various Native American tribes could have made into some quite pretty jewelry
His eyes that were a sort of streaky bluish color
His eyes that can be fairly cheaply faked with Palmer Modeling Clay, if you know how to
His eyes that various medieval artists would have been able to grind up and mix with egg whites to use as paint
His eyes that were probably mined in Brazil
Can you see how the fact that I could come up with so many interpretations that easily is not good? Connotations are wonderful. They are your friends. But for pity's sake, think about all of them before you start calling your hero's orbs adamantine. 'Cause it could mean black. But that doesn't mean it always does.
Also: could you just generally stop talking about his orbs so much? It's making me a bit queasy.
I'm sorry. BUT YOU DON'T NEED TO GIVE THE CHARACTER'S FULL NAME AND PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION IN THE FIRST LINE OF A STORY. THIS IS FANFICTION. WE KNOW WHO YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT. Actually, you don't need to do this in normal fiction, either. Also, I can't help noticing a correlation between doing this and using adjectives like 'aquamarinish' in said descriptions. I'm not going to make anything of that, but just...please stop?
I've been doing so thinking, lately. And I think it is time I set up the Literary Police. These would be highly trained individuals, more than slightly reminiscent of Hawaii Five O, who would be authorized to brutalize and or detain writers who do such things as refer to their characters' skin as 'porcelain' in a completely casual way (I do not care if you do this. But for the sake of all that is not holy, people, if you're gonna go descriptive, go descriptive, would ya? Talk about how another character rubs their thumb over the person's cheek and is fascinated by how smooth it is, or how cool, or how the light reflects of it...like porcelain. Don't just stick in adjectives cause they sound all dramatic, please. When you use a word like that, we're all like..."But HOW was it like porcelain?" which is kind of...not the point?) or switch POVs every sentence or IN THE MIDDLE OF SENTENCES DO YOU CONFUSE YOURSELF AS MUCH AS YOU CONFUSE ME IS THIS FUN FOR YOU WHY, or end every sentence with an ellipsis (yes, they are out there), or USE INTERROBANGS in CASUAL conversations. If you don't know what an interrobang IS, WHY are you using it? Can you simply not contain your excitement? Your glee?
They will, obviously, enforce ridiculous punishments for ridiculously pretty crimes, and be under my complete personal control. Also, there will be skimpy uniforms.
People who believe that the quotation mark is a magical substitute for punctuation will be shot.
How wrong is this
I am the girl kicked out of her home because I confided in my mother that I am a lesbian.
I am the prostitute working the streets because nobody will hire a transsexual woman.
I am the sister who holds her gay brother tight through the painful, tear-filled nights.
We are the parents who buried our daughter long before her time.
I am the man who died alone in the hospital because they would not let my partner of twenty-seven years into the room.
I am the foster child who wakes up with nightmares of being taken away from the two fathers who are the only loving family I have ever had. I wish they could adopt me.
I am one of the lucky ones, I guess. I survived the attack that left me in a coma for three weeks, and in another year I will probably be able to walk again.
I am not one of the lucky ones. I killed myself just weeks before graduating high school. It was simply too much to bear.
We are the couple who had the realtor hang up on us when she found out we wanted to rent a one-bedroom for two men.
I am the person who never knows which bathroom I should use if I want to avoid getting the management called on me.
I am the mother who is not allowed to even visit the children I bore, nursed, and raised. The court says I am an unfit mother because I now live with another woman.
I am the domestic-violence survivor who found the support system grow suddenly cold and distant when they found out my abusive partner is also a woman.
I am the domestic-violence survivor who has no support system to turn to because I am male.
I am the father who has never hugged his son because I grew up afraid to show affection to other men.
I am the home-economics teacher who always wanted to teach gym until someone told me that only lesbians do that.
I am the man who died when the paramedics stopped treating me as soon as they realized I was transsexual.
I am the person who feels guilty because I think I could be a much better person if I didn’t have to always deal with society hating me.
I am the man who stopped attending church, not because I don't believe, but because they closed their doors to my kind.
I am the person who has to hide what this world needs most, love.
Repost this if you think homophobia is wrong.
Also: Do you have a friend? I hope so. I also hope you will go up to them tomorrow, or the next time you see them, and pat them on the back. Then say to them: "I don't give a fuck if you're gay. 'Cause really, it's none of my business. Unless you want to fuck me. In which case--"
I leave you to fill in the rest of that, depending on how attractive this friend of yours may be.
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