That feeling when you’re reading a book and maybe it’s a love scene, or maybe it’s a character learning something about him or herself, or maybe it’s something that you’ve always thought but never knew anyone else thought or felt that way too, and your whole body grows warm and tingly and there are tears in your eyes… that. That’s why I read. To feel. To connect. To understand. To have my whole body warmed while I forget to breathe.
I write and read Camren fics not to satiate my wet dreams (I have other sources for that), instead, I write about a “connection” that goes beyond the physical which I think is inspiring.
I do get why you think Camren fics and shippers are obsessed with their wet dream version of you or Camren, there are hundreds of smut and delusions floating around. And it must suck to read that about yourself. I’m not dismissing your struggles dealing with this shit daily. And it’s your right to be angry and feel objectified and lash out. Us fans do overstep our boundaries constantly, whether we mean to or not. It must be hard balancing your private and public life. You’re human and you have needs and limitations, I get it.
But please don’t put everything in one blanket term, and dismiss the representation your key demographics are clamoring for. This community needs this, and while I get why you get so angry (because you feel invaded and sexualized), please also try to understand that some people have witnessed something pure and special and they latched on to it because they felt represented and inspired, not because they wanna sexualize you. It’s just an unfortunate factor that sex usually comes with the package, but if you look at the bigger picture, instead of fighting it and attacking it, you can help kids who’ve been searching for something that would appropriately represent them find themselves through you.
And I know it is not your personal responsibility to be the “representation” most of these kids wanted and connected with the most, but as you have said before, you must have been put where you are for a reason.
I know Camren has been the bane of your existence, and I know that some fans have boxed you into something you are not (you’re bisexual who’s free to love anyone you like, despite what some crazy ass shippers would like to imagine) and that’s why I get why you get so mad. But for every bad things we encounter, we can turn shit around and make it into something beautiful? Maybe it’s time to let go of the grudge connected to Camren, and use it as a tool to be the voice of underrepresented girls?
Lauren isn’t expecting much from her twenty second
birthday. All the important milestones had already passed, all of them leaving
her empty handed. No Hogwarts letter had arrived on her eleventh birthday, no
mermaid tail had appeared on her thirteenth. The enormously prophetic sixteenth
year – the year famously known for having destinies foretold, for being
kidnapped by gods, for falling into a ridiculous love triangle – had come and gone
with nothing of note. The most magical part of her twenty first birthday had
been that’d she’d manage to consume that amount of alcohol without dying
No grand epics begin on the day of someone’s twenty
This is because of those unlucky enough to be chosen
at this tender age – most don’t ever make it back.
Dead men tell no tales, after all.
(Dead women do. The bones and bubbling corpses of
hundreds of daring, unfortunate women are screaming warnings and fury at the
next girl to join their ranks of the lost and forgotten.
But no one listens to a woman’s screaming.
No one will listen to your screaming either.
Sorry, dear. )
She wakes up and goes to the bathroom to get ready
for the day.
This is a hasty decision, of course, although she
does not know it at the time.
This may be her last morning. If she’d known, maybe
she would have savored it. Snuggled into her warm sheets, pressed her face into
the softness of her pillow, pulled the comforter about her bare shoulders, the
most instinctual and simple of comforts.
But then again. Maybe not.
There is also an instinctual, twisted pleasure in
ripping off the bandaid.