#I’m going to end up turning in another thinly veiled fanfic about them again aren’t I?

[jacepens]

*bangs fist on table* I hate school so much I just want to write about Mad Dog and The Sundown Kid

[sailorspazz]

[Fanfic] Divine Blessing, Chapter 2 (Black/Zamasu)

It took like fuckin forever, but I finally got the second chapter done!

Title: Divine Blessing (chapter 2)

Series: Dragon Ball Super

Pairing: Black/Zamasu

Rating: M (for sex)

Words: 3,400

Summary: Black and Zamasu always celebrate the purification of planets by anointing them with their divine passion. However, this practice leads them to discover that even between kindred spirits, different bodies can lead to differences in opinions.

Can you read it at fanfiction.net? Yes!

Can you read it at ao3? Also yes!

Can you just click on the dealy below and read it here? You bet your ass!

 What happened to getting another chapter done by the end of 2017? Yeah, no, that was a lie, as are all of my stated update deadlines (really didn’t expect it’d be all the way into summer before I found the time, though x_x). But I’m back now, with the chapter I thought up while on vacation last year. Was originally going to be another one-shot, but now ended up as part of a series~

Chapter completed: 2018.07.31

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Chapter 2: Hot

The day after eradicating the species Zamasu had found so vexing, Black felt that their relationship was still uncomfortably strained. He was anxious to move on to their next target as soon as possible, both because he wanted to keep their plan moving forward, but mainly because he felt there were better opportunities to smooth things over between the two of them when they were conquering planets together. However, he also did not want to further aggravate Zamasu, so he allowed his partner to take his time choosing the next location.

The night had been rather restless, as Zamasu had not come to bed with him, and though they had only been working together for a short period of time in comparison to the long lives they had already lived, he had grown accustomed to having the comforting presence of his other self nestled next to him while they slept. His counterpart’s absence had left him awake with his thoughts, unable to settle down. Even after apologizing, he could tell Zamasu had not completely forgiven him. He drifted in and out of sleep throughout the night, trying to think of a way to repair the rift between them, and woke up feeling exhausted the next morning.

Black milled around aimlessly, struggling to find something to keep himself occupied when he had neither his partner nor the progression of the Zero Mortals Plan to entertain him. Eventually, his fatigue led him to lie down on the couch, hoping he could catch a nap and perhaps calm his nerves a bit.

“I’ve decided on the next planet. Let’s go.”

Just as Black relaxed enough to doze off, Zamasu’s voice jolted him back to full alertness. He glanced up at the steely silver eyes gazing down on him. His expression was still quite cold, but Black hoped he would be able to bring back the warm affection he usually felt from his other self. He stood up and grabbed Zamasu’s hand so they could teleport together. “Ready when you are.”

They arrived instantaneously at a rather small planet that lacked a highly diverse landscape; most of the surface area was covered in tropical vegetation, with small colder climate areas near the poles. Where they were floating adjacent to a rain forest, they could feel a thick, sticky humidity in the air. Black surveyed the area, wondering what had inspired Zamasu to pick this particular planet. It seemed he had taken his time searching from something specific, but this place looked similar to plenty of others they had been to before. Perhaps after feeling so distraught at the state of the previous world they had cleansed, he just wanted a place that would be less taxing to deal with. There were not a whole lot of mortals on this planet, and their energy signals were weak, so exterminating them would be a quick and easy task. Which, Black hoped, meant the two of them could start making up all the sooner.

“All right, this shouldn’t take too long. There aren't any powerful mortals here, so we can each take separate areas and meet back here.” Black was very cautious with what he was going to say next, since he could not tell what sort of mood Zamasu was in that day. “If…if you like, I can also scope out locations for—”

“No need,” Zamasu cut him off, making Black wonder if he was dismissing the idea of performing their ritual altogether, and if that was the case, how long he was planning to deprive him. Then his other half smiled at him, though there was a thinly veiled sinister twinkle in his eyes. “I’ve already chosen the perfect place. Somewhere unlike anywhere we’ve executed our blessing before.”

Zamasu was acting far too pleased with himself for Black not to be suspicious of his motives, but nevertheless he did not think his partner wished to be questioned, so he simply nodded and they each flew off in opposite directions.

As he soared over the land sending down blasts that wiped out entire villages before they even knew what hit them, Black could not help but wonder what his partner’s so-called “perfect” location was. He started looking at the planet with a more discerning eye to try to figure out what feature was so special about it. He noted numerous mountains, from snow-capped peaks jutting up into the clouds, to active volcanoes spewing lava into the sea. There were pristine beaches, covered with a multitude of different colored sands. The thick vegetation of the many forests provided cover for sparkling streams that eventually swelled into cascading waterfalls spilling down steep cliffs. It was certainly a very pretty planet that had luckily been spared too much damage from careless humans, but Black could not figure out what was unique about it; they had already made love on mountaintops, beaches, and hanging off the edge of a waterfall, so what did this place have to offer?

The sky had turned completely dark in the part of the planet where they met up again; the only thing Black could make out clearly was the sly grin on his counterpart’s face. They typically enjoyed reveling in their own beauty as they blessed each world, so most of the time they chose sections of the planet that still had daylight. Therefore, Black assumed that whatever Zamasu had in mind would be somewhere removed from where they were, but he was making no action suggesting where they might be heading. “So…what’s the plan?” Black prompted.

“Look around you. What’s the most spectacular sight you see? Besides ourselves, of course.”

With the lack of even moonlight to illuminate the landscape, the only thing he could see clearly was the menacing glow emitting from a nearby volcano. “Over there?”

“Well, not so much over there…more like in there.”

“In…in there?” Black balked.

“Yeah. Might as well take advantage of this indestructible body, right?”

“True, but my body is destructible. Saiyans may be powerful in a fight, but their bodies are still vulnerable to the elements. I could be killed in an environment like that.”

Zamasu’s eye twitched irritably. “I’m well aware of that. But I can keep you safe.”

Black was still leery, but did not dare to question Zamasu any further, lest he accuse him of not trusting him. “I suppose danger has its own unique sort of beauty.” This answer satisfied his partner, and they flew off together.

They hovered above the gaping opening where lava was oozing out, and Black could already feel his body starting to sweat from the extreme heat. Zamasu, though, had no such issues, and marveled at the force of nature beneath them. “It destroys everything in its path, but it’s all for the greater purpose of creating something new and more beautiful.” He turned to look at Black. “Just like us. Isn’t it magnificent?”

“Y-yeah…” The noxious gasses were already starting to get to him, and they had not even gotten started yet.

Zamasu took Black's hand and floated down toward a vent away from the main opening. They entered to find a space with narrow walls and visible magma glowing far below them. The intensity of the heat and fumes in this oppressive space made Black feel like his head was spinning. Before he even had time to adjust, Zamasu’s lips were all over his. And he realized immediately from the aggressive nature of the kiss that his counterpart was planning to be on top this time. It would not be the first time, but proportionally it was fairly uncommon. Typically when it did happen, it was because Zamasu became so taken with Black’s beauty in specific environments that he could not help but want to ravish him—the first occurrence had been on a beach with sand of a striking shade of black that perfectly matched his body’s hair and eyes. This time was decidedly different, though; he knew Zamasu had been upset with him while planning this, so it felt like he was taking advantage of his vulnerability in this harsh environment and would use this opportunity to get revenge on him. It honestly irked him a bit to see this petty side of his other self, but he would go along with it if it would diminish the distress he had inadvertently caused his partner.

As Zamasu continued to kiss him vigorously, he also gradually pressed Black closer and closer toward the wall of the vent. Black could feel the extreme heat threatening to burn his back, and tried to protest, but his counterpart kept his tongue occupied by entwining it with his own as he pushed against his body. “It’s fine, I can heal you,” he purred in response to an objection he had not even allowed Black to voice. His gi started to singe from the heat emanating from the wall, and he hissed as the fabric transferred that hotness directly to his skin. Zamasu smirked as he watched him cringe and pant. “You look a little hot. Shall I help you?” He did not wait for a response before ripping off Black’s gi and undershirt, tossing them down into the magma. “Is that better?” he asked smugly, still trying to push Black further toward the rock wall.

“D-don’t…” Black finally managed to sputter.

“Why not? I told you, I can easily heal you if you get burned.” He thrust one of his hands over Black’s shoulder, placing it flush against the wall. “See, it’s not so bad.” His assurance was made less assuring by the sound of his skin sizzling just behind Black’s ear, his face contorting with the deranged bliss he always experienced when demonstrating his invulnerability.

Eventually, he pulled Black away from the wall. “Fine, it seems that’s too much for you, so I won’t force you.” Black detected an unspoken “yet” lingering on the end of that sentence, but at least he was saved momentarily from his counterpart’s malice. Even without going as far as Zamasu was trying to push him, he was already absolutely drenched in sweat, a fact that did not go unnoticed by his other half. “You’re still looking a bit overheated. Perhaps removing some more clothes would help?” Of course he knew it would have little effect, but still looked quite satisfied with himself as he divested Black of his remaining clothing. He put his hands on Black’s chest, feeling the slickness of his perspiration. “It’s perplexing. I should be disgusted by the filthiness of your mortal body, but…” He licked up the sweat droplets pouring down from Black’s temple. “Somehow this musk you emit awakens something…almost primal in me. Why is that, I wonder? A god shouldn’t be susceptible to such influences. And yet…” He trailed his tongue down Black’s neck, stopping between his pecs to shoot a seductive glance up at him. “I find it positively intoxicating.” He proceeded to slide his tongue over the damp skin of Black’s chest, taking his time to give fervent attention to each nipple before moving further down his body. He reached his counterpart’s erection and continued grazing the skin lightly, not wanting to stimulate him too much. Zamasu proceeded to perform a teasing dance with his tongue until he realized he had become shamefully sidetracked from his purpose due to his lust for his other self. He promptly brought himself upright again and spun Black around so he was facing away from him.

“What are you doing?” Black inquired cautiously.

“Don’t worry about it,” Zamasu answered dismissively as he levitated some molten rocks up near where they were floating. He placed his hand on Black’s back and began sending waves of healing energy into his body, an immediate tip off that Zamasu was about to do something incredibly painful to him. Behind him, his partner was using his power to form the rocks into letters spelling their name in the language of the gods. Even though he had tried to brace himself for whatever was coming his way, Black still yelped and cursed as Zamasu slammed the rocks against his bare ass, branding his skin. The healing powers did not seem to be lessening the pain very much; apparently Zamasu was using them to ensure that the wound healed cleanly, rather than to provide any comfort to his other self.

“Wh-what did…you do?” Black asked after he finally caught his breath again, now feeling even more lightheaded than before.

“I simply marked you with our name,” Zamasu answered matter-of-factly as he turned Black around to face him again, cupping his chin in his hand, “so you never forget who you truly are.”

“That…that would never happen,” Black insisted, trying to convince Zamasu that the concerns he had brought up the previous day were unfounded.

“I’m afraid it’s already started,” Zamasu sighed. “We’re not as in sync with each other as we were when we first started this endeavor. You’re forgetting what it feels like to be me. Every day I see more evidence that you’re changing. And it pains me so.” He gazed at Black with an anguished expression.

“That’s not really a fair assessment. I’m not the only one who’s changed,” Black countered, not exactly feeling charitable towards Zamasu at the moment, considering what he was putting him through.

Zamasu looked bewildered at the accusation. “How do you figure?”

“The way you’re acting now is—”

“What, you don’t like relinquishing control to me? I’m you, so it shouldn’t be a problem,” he spat testily. “Or could it be…” Zamasu raised an eyebrow. “…you mistakenly thought your body was the source of your sadism?”

“No, I...” He was again denied the chance to finish his statement as Zamasu smothered him with a hasty kiss. Of course he realized that his counterpart was mirroring his own actions from the previous day, but he was still quite bothered by the fact that his partner was intentionally using their hallowed ritual as means to punish him. Even if Black had accidentally upset him, there had still been affection in his actions; from Zamasu, he sensed the only coldness that existed in this sweltering environment.

As he continued pressing his lips to Black's in a distinctly affection free manner, Zamasu gradually removed all of his own clothes. With his gaze locked on Black, he brought his own fingers to his mouth and suggestively licked them, before sliding his hand down to his counterpart's ass and slipping one digit inside of him. After working him for awhile he added another, then a third, all the while gleefully watching Black as he struggled to deal with this added stimulation when he was already gasping for breath before.

When Zamasu started lifting Black's legs and repositioning their bodies to where he could easily enter him, Black felt a sense of relief that this ordeal was coming to an end soon.  And it was a disheartening realization to make; their ritualistic blessing was supposed to be noble and beautiful, an experience so euphoric they should never want it to end. Zamasu was deliberately making it so unpleasant that Black could not wait for it to be over.

Black spread his legs and Zamasu pushed forward and jammed his erection into him. He winced at the rough entry; Zamasu could have used more lubrication to make this easier, but chose not to. His expression looked malevolent as he thrust in and out of his other self, a stark contrast to the usual adoring glances exchanged between them as they united in this way. Black could feel that Zamasu was moving them closer to the wall again, but he had been so taxed by the environment already that he had no fight left in him to stop what was going to happen. He felt a slight stream of healing energy coming from Zamasu's hands again, and his breath quickened as he tried to prepare himself for the pain that was soon to come his way.

Zamasu hovered near the wall briefly before shoving Black's back flat against it. His partner writhed in agony, his tortured screams nearly drowning out the sound of his skin seering against the rocks. Zamasu was getting a perverse satisfaction out of this scene, until Black abruptly went silent and slumped over as his body went limp. Zamasu's stomach dropped and he began to frantically shake his other self. “Zamasu? Hey, Zamasu!” He called out their shared name in a panicked tone, feeling immense relief when Black emitted a low groan, though he was still clearly passed out.

“Shit. Maybe I went too far,” Zamasu muttered as he flew up out of the vent hole, moving away from the noxious smoke and blazing heat. He chose a beach that was a safe distance from the volcano and gently floated down to a shallow spot in the waves. He kept Black positioned on top of his lap and submerged the lower halves of their bodies into the ocean to help cool down. He put his mouth over Black's and sucked the toxic fumes out of his lungs, all the while increasing the level of his healing powers to soothe his partner's burns.

Black quickly regained consciousness and started coughing. Zamasu smiled at him. “Oh, good. Do you feel all right? I can heal you more if you need it.”

“I'm...fine.” He could still feel the brand on his ass, but obviously Zamasu had meant for that to be permanent. He also felt a sensation of pressure, and asked incredulously, “Are you...still inside me?”

“Well, I was so worried about your condition that I flew out of there without thinking.” Though he knew what Zamasu was telling him was true, he could also tell that he was omitting a piece of his thought process. “And since you're clearly doing just fine now, that means...” He paused as his face broke into a lewd grin, “...there's no reason we can't finish, right?”

He moved them closer to the shoreline where Black could lie down flat on the sand and Zamasu recommenced pumping his hips. Even though he was making it slightly more pleasant now by conjuring up more lubrication than before, at this point Black was wholly uninterested, and was just waiting patiently for him to finish. Once he stopped thrusting, Black immediately got out from under him. “I'm ready to go back,” he said tersely.

“Already? But you didn't even come yet. How can we call the ritual complete if one of us hasn't—”

“Forget it. You ruined the mood.” Before his partner could defend himself, Black continued, “So either come with me now or get left behind. Your choice.”

“O-of course I'll come with you,” Zamasu looked at him with apologetic eyes, but was answered with an unforgiving glare as Black grabbed onto his shoulder and teleported them back to the realm of the gods.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Ohhh, dear...there's trouble in paradise for my boys ;_; I don't like leaving off at a point where they haven't made up, but the resolution will likely take a full chapter on its own, so alas I have to stop here for now. Next chapter should theoretically take less time than this one, but I never know what's going to come up. But for this one my goal was to finish it by the end of Zamasu Day celebrations (which I kinda did, kinda didn't, depending on time zones lol). In October there's supposed to another celebration period for Black/Zamasu, so I'll do my best to get the next one out around then. Until next time, keep dreaming those BlaZama dreams everyone!

[whopooh]

Miss Fisher Unleashed – walls breaking down in the October trope challenge

Hey Jack, mind your leaning – you're breaking the fourth wall!

The October trope might have made one or two of the writers a little nervous. “Breaking the fourth wall” is a real challenge, and results in stories that are highly self-aware of their status as stories and constructions, and also often happily explore the lines between fantasy and reality. That sure does put some demands on the writer. Perhaps also on the reader, in order to get suck into a highly self-aware fictional world like that.

I am very fond of this kind of stories – they are often both amusing and food for thought. They make some kind of short-circuit between narrative levels in a story that usually are separated. There are different ways of doing this. The most elaborate one, where the story and our reality are either affecting each other or even becoming the same thing, can be a real jolt to the readers’ sensibilities, in a pleasurable way. The character may for example become aware that s/he is being written, or that things change in her/his surroundings because of words, or odd things may start to happen in the writer’s real world. Other possibilities keep more clearly within the story world, for example by allowing a story within the story to comment on it or interact with it. As we will see in this overview, many different techniques have been used this month. There is potential for both horror, sadness and existential crisis in this type of writing, but it’s very reasonable that the main strand is humour (here is the full collection).

Breaking the fourth wall has of course happened before in this fandom. One clever example is @221aubrina’s creation “The Library”, where specimens of Jack that have been damaged in fanfic are returned and fixed by the staff – a very fun comment on a tendency to put Jack through a lot in the stories. Another is QuailiTea’s crossover with the universe of Thursday Next, “The Next Adventure”, which to its very nature is super metafictive, commenting on the characters both as persons and as figures in a text at the same time. A third is @jackphryne4eva‘s “Cafe Blend”, the story of a reader sitting in a café reading Miss Fisher fic while perhaps meeting Jack. 

For this overview, I will start with fics that don’t break the wall so radically, but keep the break logically inside the fictional universe, and then move on to fics that are more typically meta fictive and aware of being literary constructions, to stories where the writers/readers’ world somehow gets blended with the character’s world.

Hold on, is this story about me? And is that Jack... naked?

First, stories that keep the fictional world intact. I’ll start with @omgimsarahtoo, “Art Imitates Life”, where Phryne is hired to search for a young woman, Ophelia Ogilvy. Ophelia turns out to be obsessed with the famous lady detective and her inspector, and has collected newspaper pictures of them and also writes stories about them. Basically, she’s a writer of Real Person Fanfiction in 1920s Melbourne, and her fanart has striking similarities to tumblr posts. This is incredibly fun and gives us this wonderful feeling of how, even if the technology has changed, human nature has not. Of course, Phryne is surprised by this, but she is also the kind of woman to not lash out against it but to more cautiously advice the young girl; Ophelia is of course very embarrassed that Phryne found out. There are many wonderful comments that are possible to extend to the fic writers, like when Phryne has read through the scrapbook and Jack arrives:

“Jack’s voice always sent a shiver down Phryne’s spine, but right now, it affected her even more. She’d spent the afternoon reading through Ophelia Ogilvy’s scrapbook, and she was feeling rather… stimulated.”

Ophelia has, for example, written about Phryne’s and Jack’s first meeting, even if she has embellished it with emotions they perhaps didn’t really have. “All I felt for you that first day was annoyance,” as Jack mutters. To top it all up, Phryne even seduces Jack with tales from the scrapbook.

“Is it different from what we usually do?” Jack’s hands unfastened the button at her hip and then slid inside the back of her pajama trousers’ waistband, pushing them down her thighs. Phryne kicked her feet carefully to help him remove them, then promptly wound her legs around his again.

“Not as imaginative as we tend to be,” she said on a gasp as he pushed up her pajama top and covered her breast with his mouth.

And Phryne, realizing Ophelia Ogilvy finds Jack attractive, thinks  -- rather cheekily directed to all the fans -- that “It was just too bad that Ophelia would never know just how weak her imaginings were compared to the real thing.”

In @whopooh, “The Lady in the Magazine”, the writer within the world is instead Dot, who is writing thinly veiled fanfiction about Phryne and Jack for a woman’s magazine. Phryne finds this out through one of their most enthusiastic readers, Aunt P, and subtly calls her out on it. Dot becomes more and more nervous, until she confesses she’s behind the stories. Dot is really “one of us”:

It had become her favourite thing to imagine what would finally make them break down and just kiss each other. Passionately and at length. She had imagined hundreds of scenarios, the one more fanciful than the other, and she loved them all. Dot might be innocent, but she had seen things and read things, and she had an excellent imagination to make up for the rest.

In @longlineoftvdetectives’s “Collingwood Noir” there is similarly an in-world writer, but here the relationship between the writer and the people he portrays is more hostile. Interestingly enough, this is also the only time the writer in all of the stories is a man. This is young Paddy, from “Blood and Money”, who has grown up, lived through the second world war and started writing stories that, Phryne notices on a reading event, seems to be about her. There will be a second chapter, so maybe not all will be what it seems, if I am understanding longline’s comments correctly – it will be very interesting to see where it goes.

EDIT: Okay, so a fic I forgot the first time around (because I didn’t think properly about the fic-in-fic making it part of this challenge too) is @scruggzi‘s & @whopooh‘s joint fic “Direct From the Source”, where Dot decides she needs to practice her teaching abilities, and manages to set up this with Phryne, Jack and Hugh. They all get as assignment to do “automatic writing” to a prompt, without thinking it throught too much. There is much banter and flirting around this, and it seems Phryne manages to cheat so the prompt is to her liking. The prompt consists of our October bonus prompt, the lines about the South Pole and skin to skin contact, and the three pupils start writing. We as readers are then given the opportunity to read their stories and see their reactions to each other -- and there is something to say here about writing as baring your soul. The stories within the story are all commenting on their characters and relationships. Phryne blatantly flirts in her story, and makes the thinly veiled Jack suggest the skin to skin contact; blushes arise around her (“That’s very good Miss, very… um… descriptive,” Dot says). Jack more or less capitulates to her in his rather cowboy inspired story, and makes the thinly veiled Phryne be the one to suggest the skin to skin contact. Hugh bumbles on and manages to make Dot very happy. Phryne keeps on flirting through the stories:

Phryne took up the sheet of paper on which she had written her story, folded it carefully and tucked it into the inside pocket of his jacket. “You know, I don’t think my story was quite finished. Perhaps you could provide me with a few suggestions as to how it should continue?” (...)  “I’m sure I could come up with one or two ideas, Miss Fisher.”

All in all, the exercise is a great success, but Dot decides that teaching might not really be something for her after all.

@zannadubs23, “Uplifting Experience” has a very clever literal “almost breaking” of the fourth wall – or as the tag says, “Not breaking the fourth wall, just slamming hard into it “. Here, Phryne and Jack, who are rather angry at each other, get stuck in an elevator during a case. After a while the anger and tension turn into love-making. Here is literal touching of all four walls as the tryst is rather passionate, as well as upstanding, and when the elevator starts to work again there is also an extra urgency added. In the end, as a little wink, is also a proper very small break of the fourth wall. The fic has been vague about what the fight was about, and in the end Jack asks "Why were we fighting again?": ‘"Literary device," she responded to his query. / "Ah, I see." he claimed, but didn't.

A last story that doesn’t make the wall-breaking explicit is @scruggzi, “DRU-14/10/17-KS-1”. This is part of the writer’s series where Phryne and Jack meet Doctor Who, and they go to a foreign planet to meet a friend of the Doctor, an artificial life form that administrates everything, and that Phryne manages to flirt with in spite of him being a robot. This is a lovely and only thinly veiled homage to the Kickstarter for the Miss Fisher movie, and a celebration of the people that work hard but aren’t always paid tribute to: the administrators. It also includes the bonus trope challenge in a lovely way. The wall-breaking is thus never explicit, but heavily implied through the similarities between the story and real life, and the administrators name that can be read as Drew and the date for the end of the Kickstarter.

The homage ends with a cheer:

“To the Administrators. Without whom none of us would exist at all.” And the four of them raised their glasses in celebration of a difficult job done spectacularly well.    

Is this moment gif worthy yet, Miss Fisher?

So, over to the fics that are very clearly aware of their status as fiction, and of being in a separate realm to reality.

First, @scruggzi, “Doing It On Purpose”, is a wonderfully tongue-in-cheek story where the characters are intensely aware of the fact that they are acting, and that they have an audience, and also what the audience wants. It’s extremely funny, make them be half in their world, and half seeing it as if from an outside perspective.

Jack thinks that it’s important he doesn’t smile, so a moment becomes more “gif worthy”, in one scene they check if they've been captioned yet, and there is absolutely golden commentary like: “She made sure to clip the k in a way which made bisexual women’s knees weak. She did enjoy the attention, and a little queering of characters never hurt anyone.” When he thinks about it, Jack is “fairly sure that he must do most of his job without her presence, but there was an important plot point coming up and she would never forgive him if he left her out”.

It turns out the characters are well aware of the fanfic and also rather likes to read the explicit ones. This is Jack’s take on them, complete with a perfectly placed “probably”: “They were a personal favourite, although he wasn’t sure he wanted Phryne to know just how many of them he’d read. He had, after all, been single and probably celibate for an ambiguous but undoubtedly lengthy period – and really, who could blame him?”

Also in @geenee27, “Rant”, the characters are aware of the fandom – they even get the news from the joint MFMM re-watches in the form of newspaper articles.

“But Jack, doesn't it bother you. They're casting aspersions on our work.” “I find them rather interesting, to tell you the truth. A little criticism never hurt anyone. And it keeps us on our toes.” “Well, I'd like to see your reaction to this one. It's @firesign23 again.” “Oh I like hers, there are quite articulate. I wish @foxspirit1928 would index them for future reference.”

Phryne then reads about new rants that have been made, particularly about the snog in “Murder in Montparnasse”, and teases Jack relentlessly about it, and his open-mindedness gets rather put to the test.

@earanie, “There’s a pink elephant in the cool pantry”, combines the two October challenges, placing Phryne and Jack – who haven’t managed to sort out their relationship – in a cool pantry so they finally need to talk to each other. Or rather, it’s Dot who does this. She has a very meta knowledgeable conversation with Hugh with a great punchline:

“I must say, I’m terribly glad we got this ‘extra scene’ between those two. Can you imagine going through the whole movie before they finally realised they indeed are in love with each other!”

“Oh God, Dot, you’re giving me terrible flashbacks of the last three seasons.”

@leafingthroughbooksandtea, “What the Hell Did I Drink?”, is another very fun take on this, set in “Death Defying Feats”. When Jack is hit on the head after having made his liberal man-speech, instead of waking up inside the story world he wakes up on the filmset. Everyone just assumes he is the actor, Nathan Page, but in reality he is a very confused Jack – who immediately realises that Essie Davis is not Phryne, but who is she?: “Despite the heavy makeup, she was as beautiful as his Miss Fisher, and dressed as Phryne would be, in a lovely green frock.”

Even though she doesn’t understand exactly what has happened, Essie takes care of him, and she has the most wonderful line when Jack calls her “Miss Fisher”: “I didn’t know you were so Method.” In the end, he comes back to the story world – that transition means he is at least as confused here, and that matches the episode’s Jack waking up in Phryne’s bed perfectly.

@rithebard, “Privateers” has a special take on the trope, as it creates a direct communication between the characters and the readers. In the first chapter, there is a set-up and then Mac turns to the reader:

Mac shook her head smiling then picked up her tea. She looked up and said, "So what do you think? Yes, you. I know you have many opinions. So I'll tell you what, what comes next will come from you. I will let Phryne and Jack know and we will follow your lead. You always wanted to write one of these didn't you?" She raised her tea cup and saluted. She is waiting for your response.

Here the wall break is for asking about reader suggestions – so far it has resulted in Phryne finding three kittens in her shower, which made her turn to the reader and say, “Really? Kittens?” There is only two chapters so far, so where this will go in the future, we’ll have to wait and see.

Are you talking to me, Disembodied Voice of a Writer?

Finally, we have the fics where the writer actually communicates directly with the characters – whether they meet in person (and the levels clash completely together) or the one is communicating directly into the other’s world.

It’s probably not a surprise that QuailiTea would do a very self-aware fic, considering she did the full Thursday Next-fic and is thus very well versed in everything metafictional. In “Having a Chat”, the writer starts to talk with Jack – like a disembodied voice in italics, not as a present person – and she’s changing his world by her words. It’s a wonderful story where the writer asks Jack if he’d be alright with one of those tropes we favour, in this case putting him in a closet with Miss Fisher. He is very reluctant. The way he talks back to the writer and at the same time understands what is happening and not is a complete delight, and then when Hugh is added in even more.

Would you mind terribly if she’s in the story as well?

Do I have a choice?

I’ll certainly take your opinions into account. I’d be a terrible writer otherwise. Nothing worse to my mind than watching two perfectly lovely characters contorted into ridiculous shapes just so somebody’s favorites can wind up kissing ad etc.

Kissing? What, you planning on following Miss Fisher around until she flirts me into kissing her? That might take a while.

Jack has his dry humour in droves, deadpanning things like “Readership, apparently", and questioning if the writer might actually be Miss Fisher: “So, incredibly powerful, ability to throw my entire life into chaos, and you really have no plan. Are you sure you’re not Miss Fisher?”

And in the end, Jack has taken a lesson from his encounter with the writer who has told him how the readers love him unbuttoned, and it is great fun: “Jack nodded, his mind slowly returning to work. But as he took the file folder from his constable, he spared a small smile towards the wall where the voice had been coming from, and loosened his tie just a hair.”

Miss Templeton in her “Playing Miss T”, gives us a scene where the writer and Phryne sit talking and having drinks. The writer is making her rather tipsy and they celebrate both tv-series, books, Kerry Greenwood and the Kickstarter in a short and sweet dialogue. @zannadubs23, “Out of Their Depths”, is tone-wise the opposite – this is a horror story, where Phryne is in a story of total domesticity and passivity, being pregnant with Jack and not being allowed to do practically anything. This state seems like what has become of her, but soon there are signs that something is very wrong, that this is a fake reality and she’s really held hostage. From a reality of...

“Why don’t you get some rest, darling?”

“Of course. You’re right. I am very tired,” Phryne’s brow bunched in concern for a moment, then she turned to Jack, “join me? Just for a little while?”

“I think it’s best given the excitement of today, that we not be too amorous yet,” Jack said carefully, but full of concern.

...Phryne instead wakes up in a cellar, being bound to a chair next to an unconscious Jack, needing to figure out what has happened. I don’t want to spoil the plot, but there are some sinister things going on and several fun plot twists. Phryne needs to get Jack to somehow understand that this is the real world and not be lulled into believing the domestic bliss – and to escape the repressive care of a new person in her life, her ever-present mother-in-law.

In @whopooh, “Stranger Than Fiction”, it is not the writer who seeks out Phryne, but the other way around. This fic is actually a direct result of me structuring this trope overview – I realized that no one had yet done that for this trope, starting in the writer’s world. In this story, a writer is sitting at home, starting a sad story where Jack is killed, when Phryne suddenly appears next to her on the sofa asking her not to do it. After Phryne has helped to re-write the story, the writer takes the opportunity to ask her about things, like her feeling of only having Jack as a lover in the fic and about her sexual preferences. Phryne reveals she now and then influences stories about herself to get happier endings.

When she talks about sex, she becomes a bit self-conscious:

The two women looked at each other, feeling a little embarrassed. “It does sound more peculiar when you say it out loud. And about yourself,” Phryne said.

“I agree,” Mia said. “I’m sure I have written those exact words, and more than once.”

“Apologies,” I said, realising I was forcing them to say things aloud while I could just sit quietly and write them.

“Don’t worry,” Phryne said and flashed a quick smile my way. “I’m sure it’s a great benefit for us all to say these things aloud. Especially when it comes to women’s sexuality.” She tried the words on. “Wetness. Glistening cunt. She was hot and wet from desiring him. Et cetera.”

There is quite some talking over the narrative levels, both with Jack on the page of the fic and the writer who is writing about the encounter between Phryne and her fic writer.

A second fic that takes the writer’s situation as departure is 912luvjaxlean, “Reading Henry James” (this is her first fic in this fandom – welcome!). This is a  fun story that captures many things: the fan’s “slight” obsession with Phryne and Jack, the characters’ reluctance to be spied upon, plus making a crack at traditional literature, in this case Henry James, for being rather highflown. The writer’s sister suggests she should read James, whereupon Phryne comments:

“Jack, you don't really enjoy reading Henry James, do you?” “Well, I admit his writing style suggests that he may have been paid by the word.” “Or, was it by prepositional phrase?” Miss Fisher asked wittily. “I believe it was by the comma,” added Jack with a light laugh. Really? I asked. “We weren't speaking to you, Miss Voyeur. We’re canoodling,” said Miss Fisher as she loosened Jack's tie.

The writer jokes extensively with everyone, and above all herself and her ability to postpone things: “I was now ready to read. But first I went online to post clever comments on fan sites, discover new fic, and search for pretty pics of Jack.” 

Yes, we’ve all been there. Let’s just say that reading doesn’t completely go to plan.

Fic in pics.

@ollyjayonline and @solitarycyclistadventures, “Now We’re Talking”, is the first fic in a trope challenge with zero in wordcount! This is all in pictures, kind of like comics, very beautiful. It also has several levels of commentary – if I understand it correctly it’s two viewer, who also become writers here. They are talking to each other and “to the tv screen”, but also Jack is talking to them – first saying he doesn’t think Phryne and he would work as a couple, and then, after some turning points, he instead takes over and does it “his way”, which is more romantic. The struggle between writers and Jack is delightful. 

In the last image, of Jack standing at the airfield watching Phryne fly away, one of the viewers says “What do we do now?” and Jack answers “Nothing. It’s the perfect ending”. That is a very interesting double view of the ending, calling into question if this is actually possible to solve. It is then followed by a protest and a “To be continued”, with an image of the coming movie – so it’s posing the question but not giving any answers. The format of this fic, and the slight uncertainty for me whom the speech bubbles belong to, kind of enhances the effect, I think.

As the final story of the trope challenge, to sum it all up, I had to put @firesign23, “Baby It’s Cold Outside”. This is like the ultimate fourth wall breaking and commenting on the Kickstarter teasers – this fic really does it all. The headlines are from all the different things the Kickstarter promised as rewards, for example, as one of them was the promise of an extra storyboard, the fic includes a storyboard. It is a very fun one too where Aunt P in an enormous bow manages to tease Bert. All six short parts of the fic also include the snippet that formed the bonus challenge, put in many of the characters mouth in different parts.

When Phryne and Jack use the dialogue a second time, it continues:

"Do you ever feel, Miss Fisher, like we have been here before?" She shrugged. "I'm quite certain I'd remember that, Jack. Alas, I am forever unfulfilled."

In the last snippet, the whole family is back together and there is wonderful teasing of their dofferent personalities – Dot telling off Hugh, Jane stating one thing and then disappearing – and “When no answer was forthcoming they quickly forgot her again”. Finally, it’s time for “hot cocoa and rejoicing, because the author gave up on plot several sections ago.” I would never have guessed that it was possible to have so many references and jokes in one short fic.

That’s all for this month. The October fic challenge seemed so hard in the beginning of the month, but it still resulted in a large amount of fics -- lovely, varied, and very self-aware. The November challenge has been pronounced, to quite some delight of the fans. It’s “An (Un)expected Marriage”, and I am looking forward to the coming month!

[theopennotebook]

Skins FanFic

Chapter 3: Party, party, party!

As I burst into the cool night air, I tried to get my bearings. My mind was a blur of drugs, alcohol and raging emotions. I could see the illuminated headlights on Jack’s SUV. When I ran over to investigate, I saw Finn lying on the back seat about to pass out with his head on Maxxie’s lap.

 “We gotta get him home,” Maxxie said stroking his hair. “Are you going to stay?”

“Yeah, go ahead. I’m going to stay for a bit longer.”

“How are you going to get home Zye?” Jack asked from the front seat.

“I’ll go with Freddie or something. Don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine.” I lied, hoping that they hadn’t seen what took place inside. I couldn’t handle being around them right now, I knew I would break down if I was.

“Is that the drugs talking or you?” Maxxie asked, examining me.

“Probably both!” I said forcing a smile. “You guys just need to worry about getting him home.” I turned and left before they could say anything else.

I walked back to the club, mounted the stairs and headed back inside. I reached into my bra and pulled out a blue skittle. I could use the boost in energy. As it began to dissolve, I heard a familiar voice yelling over by the bar. I pushed through the crowd to see Cook holding some guy 4 inches off of the ground, veins bulging through his temples.

“If I ever see you again, I’ll cut you to pieces. Do you understand? You don’t know who you’re fuckin’ with mate. I’m Cook. Don’t you ever forget that!” He said dropping the guy. The guy stumbled, losing his balance and then turned and left. 

I walked up behind Cook wrapping my arms around his stomach and standing on my tip toes to rest my chin on his shoulder.

“What was that about?” I asked.

“That asshole owes me money.” He said nonchalantly. “D’you want to get out of here?” 

I nodded. 

Cook grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniels from the counter before placing a hand gently on the small of my back and escorting me out of the club. We meandered in the moonlight down winding roads until we reached a forest. 

“C’mon, there’s somethin’ I want you to see.” He said leading me through the darkness.

The forest opened into a clearing. It was breathtaking: the way the moon reflected off the pond, the air rustling the high grass.

“Let’s go swimming!” I shrieked.

“You sure? There’s a bit of a chill… Feels like we could get some snow soon. It’s been a strange winter.”

“Catch me if you can!” I yelled, taking a swig from the bottle of Jack.

“Fuck, you’.”re going to get us killed aren’t you?!” He teased

I grinned, running over to the water, stripping down to my lacey bra and barely-there underwear, and dove in. It felt like ice, instantly freezing every muscle in my body. My skin burned as if I were on fire. I began to panic, realizing I was losing control of my limbs. I managed to fight with every fibre of my being to break through the surface and gasp for air.

“C-c-c-cook!” I sputtered and spat water from my mouth. “C-cook I c-c-can’t m-m-move!” my head bobbed in the water. I had lost feeling in my feet and hands. “C-cook! W-w-w-where are you?” Each breath burned its way through me, felt as if it were slicing my windpipe. I sputtered and choked as the icy water rushed into my lungs. I heard a splash just beside me and felt something around me in the water, yanking me towards the grass. Cook hauled both of us out of the ice water and onto the grass. I huddled into a ball on the grass and shivered violently. Cook patted me down with his button-up shirt and then redressed me, pulling his own shirt over my dress to try to keep me a bit warmer. I looked over at him, his lips were blue and his hands shook as he struggled to put his pants on.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“What the fuck did you take Zye?”

“What?”

“You were serious about swimming?! Do you realize how stupid that was?! You could’ve gotten yourself killed! What the fuck did you take?” With each word, his face grew redder. He was shaking and his eyes were on fire.

“They gave me a blue and an orange skittle…and then I took another blue one just before finding you.”

“Fuck. And then they just left you?!” Cook took a few swigs out of the bottle of Jack.

“No, I left them,” I said jumping up. Somewhere in my mind, it registered just how much I sounded like a toddler throwing a tantrum. I took another swig out of the bottle.

“I didn’t want to go with them!” I protested. “I told them I was going with Freddie, but he abandoned me! And besides, I’m not done having fun yet!” I grabbed my shoes and took off into the forest. I could hear Cook calling after me but I didn’t stop. I just kept running. I could feel branches scratching my face and legs, the pain of the rocks and sticks under my feet barely registering to me.

When I broke through the trees, I was standing on a sidewalk. I felt like I was in a bubble of light. The swigs of Jack were definitely mixing with that third skittle. Four lanes of cars whizzed by. I spotted a median that separated the two directions of traffic.

That was where I wanted to be.

I wanted to lie on that median and feel the movement of the world around me, I wanted to be swallowed by it. I laughed out loud, not quite knowing why and then took my first step into the road. I could hear car horns blaring around me, but I didn’t care. I took another step, then another, and another. I looked to my right to see bright headlights speeding towards me. I smiled and stood, facing them. I could feel the energy whirring around me. I closed my eyes and smiled. Something hard clutching my upper arm snapped me out of my euphoria. I was flying through the air, ultimately landing on my back on the cold sidewalk. I opened my eyes to see Cook, livid, pinning me down. I could see his temples bulging as he yelled at me. I only laughed. He sat me up and began to shake me, continuing to scream. My bubble of light was fading and I could feel myself slipping slowly back into the real world. The realization of what had almost just happened to me began to sink in. I threw myself at Cook, allowing his warmth to envelope me and began to sob.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry, you just scared the fuck out of me. Hey, Zye, look at me. See? I’m not mad anymore. See?” He lifted my chin so that I was looking into his eyes.

“You came after me… if you hadn’t come, I’d be…I’d be - ”

“Hey, we’ll be having none of that tonight. C’mon there’s still time to party. Let’s go. Put your shoes on, I’ll take you somewhere fun.” He said wiping my tears. “But, not more skittles or booze, okay?”

I nodded, smiling up at him, and he smiled right back. In that moment, any memory of Freddie embarrassing me was completely obliterated by the feeling of security I had with Cook. I pulled on my shoes and we began to walk down the sidewalk. Cook and I walked for what must have been at least an hour, laughing and chatting, hand in hand. He wasn’t so bad once you got to know him - lewd and irritating at times, but he really was a good guy.

I realized that we had ended up in a residential complex in a rough looking neighbourhood.

“Hey Cook, where are we?” I said, moving a bit closer to him.

“My house is just down this way. I figured you probably needed to get warm and dry.” He said, putting a protective arm around me.

Cook climbed the tree next to his house and into an open window. In a moment, he was at the front door, gesturing for me to come in. We went up to his room and he rummaged through a drawer, passing me a t-shirt, boxer shorts and a pair of socks.

“I’ll even turn around while you change.” 

“My, what a gentleman,” I teased, beginning to shimmy out of my wet dress. I changed into the warm dry clothes and crawled beneath his sheets. “I’m done.”

“You can take the bed, I’ll take the floor.” He reached into his closet, pulling out a blanket and a pillow.

“Are you sure?”

“Definitely. You’ve had quite a night and you’ll probably be in bad shape in the morning. You need a good night sleep.” Cook spread his blanket on the floor.

“Are you going to sleep now, Cook?” 

“Not if you don’t want me to.”

“Could we keep talking for a while?”

“Whatever you like, Princess.”

Cook pulled off his shoes, his pants and his t-shirt. I couldn’t help but take in his body. His tattoos suited him, the way that they seemed to emphasize his chiselled, lean muscle.

“You checkin’ me out?”

I shook my head smiling. He curled up on the floor.

“Cook?”

“Yeah?”

“Why do you and Jack hate each other?”

“That obviously, is it?”

“I may have noticed hate-like feelings between the two of you.”

Cook sighed. “Jack and I were friends yeah? Like super fuckin’ close. Then one day, I came ‘round to his flat for a visit after a fight with my girlfriend, Eden. Only, Eden answers the door wearing nothin’ but his t-shirt. He says she just showed up and threw herself at him, that she was upset about the fight and he had tried to comfort her. Comfort her my ass.” Cook scoffed.

“He said he tried to send her off. Accordin’ to him, nothin’ happened, but when you find your girl wearin’ nothin’ but a guy’s shirt, you don’t need to be a genius to figure out what’s goin’ on. Yeah, Eden and I had been in a fight, but that didn’t give him any right to do what he did. My own best friend… Fuckin tosser,” Cook sighed. “I really loved her… and him…”

I let my hand fall over the edge of the bed and ran my fingers through his hair. “I’m so sorry Cook.”

“Hey, no sadness at this party. What do you want to do Zye?” He asked in a thinly veiled effort to change the topic.

“I want to watch the sunrise.”

“We can do that.”

“Cook?”

“Yeah?”

“You know... I don’t mind if you…wanna sleep up here…”

“You sure?”

“Yup.”

Cook sprang up from the floor and was behind me in an instant. We lay there, my back pressed against him, his arms wrapped around me and our feet intertwined. I could begin to see the sun peeking through Cook’s window. I turned onto my back and he propped himself up on his elbow, using his free hand to play with my hair.

“You’re beautiful Zye, d’you know that?”

I could tell that I was visibly blushing now. I reached up and stroked his cheek. Cook smiled at me and then leaned down placing a soft kiss on my lips. As he tried to pull away I grabbed the back of his head and pulled him back down. Cook and I kissed until the sun had made its way into the sky, throwing shades of pink and yellow across his walls. Finally, we couldn’t fight the tiredness any longer and I fell asleep wrapped in Cook’s arms.

[shinigamikarinkurosaki-archive]

Rant or meta? Nobody knows.

I’m having a d/epressive episode & I’ve been trying to hunt down Momo fanfiction just to keep my mind off things but it’s proving hard. The B/LEACH f.and/om really seems to hate women & especially Momo because I’ve only found a handful of fics in comparison to what’s been archived that aren’t disgusting.

It’s not JUST the obvious flaming where Momo has a “stupid zanpakutou” & “””whines””” a lot & wants Toushirou’s dic.k SO BADLY she’ll sabotage his entire life for it (I’m looking at you, H/itsuK/arin shippers). Hell, I’m not even talking about the nonspecific dislike that some of my roleplay partners have voiced in the past . Yes, that’s terrible, but what’s more widespread is this objectification of Momo. Among Momo’s own fandom, she’s not an individual, she’s a doll.

Firstly, why is Momo often portrayed as so submissive? I can get it if she’s shipped with Aizen because EVERY survivor acts differently around their abuser thanks to their conditioning, or even when she’s scared out of her mind, but everyone else? It makes me roll my eyes. Momo called out Byakuya early in the manga for his poor treatment of Renji & again in TYBW after Byakuya basically pureed Gerard’s head. Momo tried to kill Gin after she discovered Aizen’s “corpse.” Momo attacked Toushirou & Izuru. SHE’S A LIEUTENANT. She’s fiery & strong & independent. Just because she’s experienced abuse doesn’t change that she gets upset & even angry. Of course, this is all tossed wayside, mostly for ships.

Momo is treated like a child. I’ve seen this trope several times on both AO3 & FFN & leaves me incredibly perplexed. Momo is depicted as the same age as Izuru & Renji in their academy years. I have yet to see a portrayal where Izuru & Renji are outright “boyish” or childish. Momo, however, is outright called a girl, a child, et cetera. Yes, there are VERY young-looking shinigami. But I don’t know of many (successful) military bodies (which the Gotei is) that don’t employ an aptitude test & training for their personnel. Momo is just as capable & mature as they are. Why is she infantilized when these two are generally regarded as adults even though she’s the same age as they are? Because, according to f.and/om, women can’t be independent or mature.

I see total ignorance of Aizen’s abuse of her, like it never even happened. If it was only occasionally, it would be fine. Sometimes writers just gotta write fluff & I get that. But it’s WIDESPREAD. It’s difficult to find a fic employing Momo’s trauma, despite Aizen-- at the very least-- emotionally abusing Momo. It’s not easy to write these portrayals either because of the emotional toll or just not knowing how these people behave, I know, but it’s plain mischaracterization to be so willfully ignorant because you don’t want to Google how long-term abuse victims & survivors of assaults like Momo has experienced to just get an idea how she may behave. People don’t just “bounce back” from experiences like that. Momo needs time to grieve.

Unfortunately, when Momo’s grief & trauma is utilized, it’s for romantic plot. Look, I ship Momo with a number of characters, even some crackships. Of course her trauma affects her relationships with them. But in a lot of cases, it’s not part of her, it’s the driving force of her romantic partnerships. Like the man can’t find anything lovable about Momo aside from how it would feed his ego to help her get over Aizen. Like Momo is a scared, wide-eyed little foal who needs to be sheltered. Momo’s trauma moulds a lot of her personality & perspective but there is no relationship that has substance if it’s based on “fixing” a victim, & they don’t usually end up working in a healthy manner if at all. I’m not saying this trope is bad. I’m saying it’s explored inaccurately. These are incredibly unhealthy, codependent relationships. It’s okay to write them, especially if it’s part of a character’s characterization. It’s not okay to sugarcoat it for your “feelsies.”

What’s really bad about this trope is that writers act like it works. Momo is inevitably fixed & happy with whoever she’s paired with. No fighting. No rough spots. Somehow, the boy knows how to quell Momo & Momo is inevitably quelled. Any abuse victim knows that’s not how it works. It’s terrifying entering relationships. It can’t be fixed. Yes, partners should be supportive of each other, & that makes it SO MUCH EASIER to start healing, but this is just plainly incorrect. It’s juvenile at best. If you’re going to utilize these plots, grow a set and badship it or just don’t write it.

Honestly, one of the most despicable mischaracterization is Hi/ts/uHi/na. First of all-- I’m pretty sure I have the f.and/om blocked but if you’re reading this & ship Momo with Toushirou, hit the back button. I don’t want anything to do with you, I don’t want to argue with you. You’re wasting your time if you want to #d..isc//ours/e.

But really. It’s disgusting shipping Momo with Toushirou. Who would REALLY date the boy who you’ve lived with your mutual grandmother? No one, I hope, because that’s ince/s/t regardless of the status of your blood relationship & if you think that’s okay I suggest you see a professional because there is something wrong with you.

It’s not just the thinly veiled in/cest that’s bad, Momo is treated pretty horribly by her own fans. Pretty much everything I mentioned is utilized. Her relationship with Toushirou is HEAVILY gendered. Toushirou is inevitably aged up, he the dominant & breadwinner, he is taking care of Momo, Momo is still submissive & shaky doe-eyed little girl who cannot cope without Toushirou & is wholly devoted to Toushirou. No fighting. No fear. No development. No dimensions. Momo was just betrayed by her captain, who she turned against Toushirou for, & she doesn’t experience fears, paranoia, or bitterness. She just… rolls over for Toushirou. I hate cringe culture but it’s physically painful for me to read some of the summaries for these fics. It’s like the entire f.and/om just pirouette out of a 1950s dishwasher commercial.

There is a constant theme throughout this, however, & it’s for heterosexual pairings. Momo is a plaything for men, even for pairings like Kira/Hina which ought to be the most understanding, mutually respectful ship for Momo thanks to their similar experiences. But no. Even then, Izuru’s depression & abuse is thrown by the wayside because Momo’s “broken” & needs to be fixed. Whoever Momo’s partner is would WANT to fix Momo, they would hate seeing her so despondent & scared, but it doesn’t work like that. Yet writers continue to make it work like that. Momo continues to be an innocent, naive trophy for this man. It’s always about men. I am not saying it CAN’T be this way. There are women who revolve around men. It’s very possible Momo could project her loyalty towards Aizen onto another man. But these aren’t cast as unhealthy or codependent, they’re cast as, you guessed it, romantic.

The entire issue just leaves this sour taste in my mouth. I’m not saying it’s wholly f.and/om’s fault. Misogyny wasn’t created on the internet, it’s a product of outside influences. But it’s shameful seeing people who are supposed to be Momo’s fans treat her like this one-dimensional thing with a hole men can stick stuff into. I can sort of understand since it took me YEARS to figure all this out, but I can’t be the only one who has noticed this. It’s incredibly disheartening as a victim of abuse myself to see this. It pisses me off now, but I used to feel so broken. In high school, I honestly thought I met my IRL Izuru Kira, whom in my personal depiction of Momo is one of her most treasured people. He ended up slu/t-shaming me & I was heartbroken because I honestly thought if I had a different lover I could work the effects of my se/xual abuse. Fic writers are not responsible for this, but they obviously aren’t helping. I have found ONE fanfic that acknowledges Aizen as an abuser. It’s explicit & triggering but when I read it I felt so validated like I wasn’t a bad person, like I wasn’t crazy. I’m not saying ALL fanfiction has to be like that, but if I relate to Momo other victims do too, & it’s not for shits & giggles. It’s because Momo was abused. & just as a women it honestly feels like my abuse with ALWAYS be romanticized. I’m not a plaything, neither is Momo, but honestly I only feel worse looking at what f.and/om does to Momo.