#LMM would not write that

[pardonmydelays]

huh

[batrachised]

you guys are so right, Phil is a queen, and her and Jonas are a top tier LMM couple !!

[muppetydyke]

sometimes I wanna write more reboot concept episodes but it’s hard cause the guest has to balance vibes, whether the larger public knows who they are or not, whether I know their work well enough to write out some bits or not. AND it has to be like “…can I stand to write this out?”

[linnamonrolls0]

The Winner Takes It All

LMM!Hermes x Reader

Summary:

“devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes what doesn’t kill me makes me want you more…”

You accidentally find your way into the Lotus Casino, where a certain Greek god takes a keen interest in a game of poker, a sweet deal, and… you.

Rating: Mature

Words: 4,480

A/N:

I wasn’t gonna write this… until I saw some hater saying they’d [redacted] if they saw a LMM!Hermes x Reader fic show up - so naturally, being the disastrous Lin simp that I am, I HAD TO DO IT. After all, learning from the best in proving the naysayers wrong…

A lot of this was written pre-episode, allow it with a few inconsistencies and a lot of research-induced additions!

Mixtape... bloop - https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6v2ZfRamJRh8eP6qOqz4ND

Chapter 1: When The Chips Are Down

Contrary to popular belief, apparently it is possible to get lost in Las Vegas.

You were only strolling the Strip with a group of friends on the last day of your whirlwind vacation, but soon enough you found yourself at a dead end, unsure of what turn you’d even taken to get there. 

Hoping to locate a restroom and some means of connectivity to contact your friends, you beelined for the nearest building, flashily labelled the Lotus Hotel and Casino: upon glancing upward, you were met with the sight of a forty-storey tower, with a wide open entrance marked by a blooming neon-bright lotus flower in front of you. It was the sort of place you would expect to be buzzing with life, but oddly enough nary a soul lingered by the shining silver doors; just stillness and silence, save for the muffled music pounding from somewhere inside.

Though you felt overwhelmingly uneasy, that entrance carried a strange magnetism that compelled you to step inside. Something that suggested all your fear would be put to rest the moment you walked through those doors… or into that flower, at least.

You tucked your hands under your sleeves and drew in a deep breath, before you crossed the petalled threshold into an opulent lobby decorated with lotus plants in intricately designed pots and inviting plush couches around the circular hall. The air conditioning was a welcome relief from the Nevada summer heat, and the whole place seemed to glow in a dark shade of pink. 

You immediately felt an invisible weight ease off of your shoulders as you entered… What had you come here to look for, again?

Right, a phone charger and somewhere to pee. Of course, basic human necessities, how could you forget those so quickly?

Interrupting your line of thought, you paused in your tracks when a tall Barbie doll materialised in front of you, dressed in bright pink from head to toe; upon first glance she looked like some sort of projection, as though she wasn’t real at all.

“Welcome to the Lotus Hotel and Casino,” she greeted you in an almost robotic voice, with a plastic smile stretched across her face, holding out a shimmering green card. “Here’s your Cash Card, have a great time!”

“Cash… what? Do I have to pay for this?” you stuttered, confused beyond belief as you took the card. What was this place?

“No, not a penny!” She shook her head; not a single strand of her perfectly coiffed blonde hair shifted out of place. “Would you like a tour? Here, have a drink. Only the best in the world here!” 

She offered you a glass goblet, filled to the brim with a dark maroon liquid and topped with blueberries, bearing the same eerie magnetism as the doors had done minutes before. You eyed the drink dubiously, brows furrowed as you sniffed it in a futile attempt to ascertain what exactly it was.

“I’m alright, thank you,” you politely declined, “What is—”

But before you could finish your question, the Barbie doll had disappeared as suddenly as she’d arrived, and the moment you sipped the strong floral drink, your questions completely evaporated.

Following your curiosity, you craned your neck and looked up to see endless floors lined with rooms and doors and glass balconies, with a pair of glass elevators in the middle. At this point, you wouldn’t be surprised if the great glass elevator could shoot through the ceiling like something out of a children’s book.

At least there were more people in here, though you were certain they too had just appeared as if by magic; not acknowledging you at all, they milled about in the lobby and outside the doors to the casino, beside to what appeared to be an arcade full of excited children playing classic and modern video games alike. Regardless of age, all the guests were clad in fancy-dress costumes; you figured perhaps there was an event taking place that had its attendees reflecting different eras of fashion. Wouldn’t be unusual for this town, everyone was dressed crazy and after three days traversing Sin City’s myriad clubs and casinos, nothing fazed you - or perhaps the effects of whatever you’d taken at that club last night still hadn’t fully worn off, who knew…

Still in a bit of a daze, you floated toward the immense double doors leading to the Casino, already hearing the jingling of slot machines singing proud over the pounding pop beats as their backing track.

The casino was lit by ornate chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, deliberately dimmed to give way to the bright, flashing lights of the various gaming machines assembled around the hall, surrounding a set of card tables in its centre. Chatter and laughter filled the room and people crowded around the tables, playing without a care in the world and having the time of their lives; everyone seemed to have a goblet in hand and a cash card in the other, not dissimilar to your current state. It was warmer in here, though still comfortable enough that you could breathe… Just about.

You wandered through and your attention was glued to a game of roulette at a table beside you, where a couple had just won who knows what, when you were interrupted by a greeting that you just somehow knew was directed at you.

“Well, hello, there,” you heard in a smooth, low tenor behind you.

You whirled around on your heel to be met by… a guy. Literally just a guy, casually leaning on his gorgeously tanned forearms on a nearby craps table, aimlessly toying with a pair of dice in his left hand as he gazed over at you. He was certainly easy on the eyes with his vaguely familiar but handsome face, a mischievous little smirk on his lips, and pretty brown eyes that sparkled in the flashing lights… There was something about those eyes that drew you in. And for some reason, you couldn��t bring yourself to look away…

He looked like the most normal person in the room, but he seemed entirely out of place, given that everyone else was dressed to the nines - meanwhile he wore a comfy tan hoodie and sweatpants set, as if he perhaps owned it all and subsequently had no rules to follow in this already-lawless land. When he stepped around his table to approach you, he certainly did swagger around like he ruled the place, and his companions nearby looked at him like they worshipped the ground he walked on. Perhaps he was important, but how were you to know?

“You come here often?” he flirted, just about the most awful pickup line imaginable, but you were past the point of questioning why it still sounded attractive.

How had you ended up here, anyway? Hell knew… But this was Sin City, after all; a little harmless flirting could do you no harm, surely… 

“Nope, never been here before. But weirdly, I don’t want to leave…” you shrugged, taking another sip of that strangely addictive drink.

“Sounds about right, Miss…”

“[Y/N],” you offered casually, uncharacteristically not hesitant.

“Pleasure to meet you…” he said with a playful lilt to his tone, holding out a hand, “They call me Hermes.”

When you shook his hand, for a split second you could’ve sworn you weren’t there anymore - when his smooth hand held yours, something akin to a firework went off inside your mind, and you’d put it down to just sparks if not for the phantom breeze you felt just then, a gust that nearly knocked you off your feet.

You couldn’t place what it was, exactly, but there was something strange about this man. He bore an almost otherworldly quality, as though he wasn’t human at all… But how could he be anything else? Come to think of it, there was a similarly supernatural energy about the casino itself; no wonder he fit right in to this weird wonderland.

“What, you got a Birkin in your back pocket or something, Mr Hermes?” you laughed, trying to shake off that odd suspicion, only to be met by his indignant scowl. Even that was cute.

“And what business do you have with my back pockets?” he teased, tucking one hand into the front pocket of his hoodie, to which you raised an intrigued brow.

You shrugged, nonchalant, still reeling from that strange feeling. “Nothing yet, but perhaps I’d like to find out…”

“Obviously I do not, but I could hook you up.” The innuendo wasn’t lost on you, least of all when Hermes smirked, that patented brand of mischief you were quickly growing quite fond of as he swaggered across to the card table; the players welcomed him back gladly. “Care for a game?” he asked, seemingly winning one without even paying attention to it as he rolled the dice carelessly onto the table that stood between you.

As he retrieved the dice, you eyed his hands curiously; they could only be described as pretty, as though he might be a pianist or… an artist of some description. He had his sleeves rolled back and a gold-plated Rolex glimmered on one wrist, a chunky gold chain-link bracelet on the other, and something about that on him was distractingly attractive. It all screamed money, despite his casual tracksuit getup, which would’ve been nothing special if it didn’t look so needlessly expensive in itself. You absently wondered what that obscure tattoo on his ring finger meant, for surely it couldn’t imply he might be taken…

“It’s not like you have anything to lose,” Hermes commented, interrupting your line of thought as he set a few chips down on the table and retrieved his own green Cash Card from his pocket, holding it up to show you. So everyone had them; then, what was the point?

Oh, right. You likely couldn’t do anything with the money outside, so, go figure it was an unlimited free pass.

“I guess I’m in. After all, what you gonna do when the chips are down?” you quoted a challenge, holding your own smug look at the recognition in his eyes.

“I see you speak my language…” he teased, “Even if those aren’t exactly my words.”

“Funny you should mention that. Has anyone ever told you you look a bit like Lin-Manuel Miranda?”

“So I’ve been told! Though, I think the correct expression would be that he looks like me. Same difference, he’s me, I’m him, whatever.” He waved a flippant hand, as if instructing you to ask no further questions on the topic.

“Gotcha…” You laughed, putting this all down to a wacky dream by now as you joined him by the card table. “What is this, anyway?” you asked him, raising your goblet in his general direction. He was the only person here without one, which didn’t entirely make sense to you, even in the logic of twisted fever dreams.

“Raise a glass to freedom… and throw it the fuck away,” he sang with a laugh, “Seriously, though, that’s a little addictive psychedelic beverage called blue lotus wine. If you know what’s good for you, you won’t drink a drop.”

“And what if I already did?”

“Well, then you’re well and truly screwed…” Hermes grinned, mischief dancing in his dark brown eyes. He swiped the half-full glass out of your hand and knocked back the remainder of the wine in one quick gulp, his gaze never leaving yours as he deposited the empty glass on a tray carried away by one of those apparating Barbie waitresses. “And now, so am I.”

He waved over another waitress and grabbed two new glasses of wine off her tray, politely handing one to you. He brought his glass to his lips, slowly sipping at the wine as you eyed his hand wrapped around the glass, absently wondering what that seemingly delicate touch would feel like on you… There was no reason why the simple act of this man drinking hallucinatory wine should’ve been remotely sexy, but you could say the same for him in general; this shouldn’t work, but god damn, it does.

“Was that really the best idea if it’s—” you began, and he quickly cut in.

“Absolutely not, no, but if you come here to forget, you may as well do it right…” Hermes sighed, a momentary flash of resignation in his stance as he briefly let his shoulders droop. “Anyway, whatever, fuck real life. Let’s play?” he offered, running a hand through his dark hair, seemingly shaking himself out of the memory of whatever haunting reality had led him here. As a matter of fact, what had led you here?

“Sure,” you smiled, “What are we playing? I’m pretty sure I saw an arcade on my way in…”

“Come on, there’s no stakes in that! This is where the real fun’s at,” he said with a light laugh, gesturing to the craps table in front of you.

“Speak for yourself. I’ll have you know, I’m amazing at air hockey!”

“Yeah? I’m a killer at the claw machine, so go figure.”

You rolled your eyes at him, “Cute. Shame they don’t have an escape room.”

“Just as well, I’ve always been a little too good with locks… Besides, this place itself is an escape room. Only, there’s no escape…”

“Wait, what?”

“Because… You want to stay, right? What’s waiting for you outside?”

Suddenly, you found yourself struggling to answer his question. Where barely a few moments ago, everything had been so clear, now you could see a hazy cloud inside your mind as you desperately searched for the answer to no avail, almost as though that hallucinogen was beginning to hit hard… 

“Outside? What’s outside? I — I could stay here — You’re… Huh?” you stuttered, “I don’t know where else I’d go.”

Hermes sighed, glancing over at you. “Literally anywhere but here.”

“Sorry?” you questioned, brows furrowed. Had you misread his signals?

“Walk with me,” he offered, and so you obliged as he stepped towards you again. You followed his lead as he strolled on within the confines of the casino, glancing surreptitiously around as though making sure you weren’t being eavesdropped on - though you could only wonder why.

“Alright, I don’t normally do this…” he drawled, “But for some reason I’m taking a liking towards you; and all trickery aside, I don’t take unfair advantage, so here’s the secret. You ever heard of Odysseus and the Lotus Eaters?” he asked seriously; you nodded your assurance. “Well, this place is kinda like their island… Only, now it’s here in the modern world, and what better place for it than Sin City? Hence the lightness in the air and the endless supply of blue lotus wine…”

You eyed him curiously, willing him to go on and trying not to focus on his initial confession. “I guess that explains a lot. So this is… eternal psychedelic bliss?”

“Yep, that good old adrenaline and dopamine rush, forever and ever and everrrrr… Half of Olympus has tried to claim it, but nobody really knows whose work of chaotic genius this was.” He shrugged nonchalantly, not at all like he was explaining such an outlandish concept. “When you’re in a casino, time just seems to work differently - and just like that, time moves at its own distorted pace in here. Lost travellers often find their way into this place, it has that draw when you stray off your path - and that’s why I hang out here, not just to wander astray from my own shit, but to guide you back to yours. I’m not immune to this,” he raised his glass, gesturing to the wine, “But I can handle the air just fine, unlike most mortals…”

“And what if I want to get lost?” you challenged, plucking his glass out of his hand, holding his gaze as you brought the drink to your lips. His gaze remained fixed on you as he bit his own lip, his eyes flickering to your lips for a millisecond as you sipped the wine; thirsty, not dissimilar to the way you’d been eyeing him mere seconds ago.

“Mmkay, lucky for you, I have some semblance of sense about me,” Hermes said, stopping by a poker table nearby, where the players immediately cleared a spot for the pair of you. Entirely nonchalant, he swiped a deck of cards off the table, expertly shuffling it as he spoke, “So win the next deal, and I’ll get you out of here.”

“So if I lose, I’m stuck in here?” you attempted to clarify the stakes, trying not to get distracted as you watched him shuffle those cards. Hell, he had such pretty hands, what else could you do but wonder what else he could do with them?

“Pretty much.”

“And what if I ask for a better deal?”

“Better than having your real life back?”

“Yep.”

“Try me…”

“Okay. If I win, my prize is you.”

“Me? What’s the catch?”

“Nothing. Just, you and me, until not even the gods above can separate the two of us,” you teased, peak dramatic, somewhere between flirting and floating. You could get used to this, the weightless feeling of flight…

Hermes quirked a brow at you, undeniably amused. “Interesting thought, given that I’m… well, not above, per se, but one of them.”

“You’re… what now?” You tilted your head to one side, looking curiously across at him. What in the world was he on about?

He shot you a pointed stare, isn’t it obvious? But it wasn’t, until now… when it all began to make sense, slowly: what this place was, how he knew so much about it, why he had a more heightened sense of awareness despite the inherent hypnotism of the literal and metaphorical lotus flower you’d stepped into… And he could guide lost travellers out. Your jaw dropped as your hand flew to your mouth when it finally dawned upon you who and what he was, and what that entailed —

And out loud, all you could manage was a whisper; “Oh, my god…”

The Greek god in front of you heaved a dramatic sigh, aiming a playful eye-roll in your direction. “Please, like I haven’t heard that one before,” he chuckled lightly, the sarcasm heavy in his tone.

And so you let him deal your hand and you played, stopping every so often to laugh, for Hermes was surprisingly fun to be around and perhaps staying here with him wouldn’t be so bad… Only, this couldn’t be his permanent residence. He was the god of travel, it made sense that he never hung around one place long enough to settle. It was obvious he had a natural charisma about him that clearly worked in his favour more than once; and not that it really mattered, but you absently wondered how many like you had crossed paths with him before, and the past baggage he’d been trying to forget was certainly not lost on you…

He had his right arm slung casually around your shoulder, his left occupied by his cards, not caring if you could see them. You tried your level best to stay focused; for you were feeling a little lightheaded by now, a combination of the wine and the strong scent of his cologne… He was close, enough that you could pick up the gentle sweet notes beneath the woody cedar scent he wore.

“All in?” you suggested, nudging your chips toward the centre of the table, glancing up at the literal god beside you.

“I am if you are,” Hermes smirked, pushing his own ridiculous amount of chips into the pot beside yours.

The game went on; and as if out of nowhere, thanks to a sudden turn in your luck and a surprise royal flush - which if you didn’t know any better, you would’ve attributed to him - you had finally won. Caught up in the daze, you stepped up onto your toes and threw your arms around his neck in an excited hug. He was momentarily taken aback by it, but quickly regained enough composure to gently wrap his arms around you. His soft touch bore a pleasantly startling contrast to his mischievous demeanour, and you found yourself not wanting to let go.

“Well played…” he congratulated you in that same teasing tone as he gently drew you back, briefly glancing at his watch and tapping two fingers against the side of the dial.

Perhaps you would’ve wondered why, but spurred on by your victory and high off the adrenaline, you hooked one finger in the gold chain around his neck and gently tugged at it to urge him closer, until the distance between you was barely a hair’s breadth. You could feel the warmth radiating off him in waves, his intense cologne flooding your senses. And suddenly it didn’t faze you that you were in public, and you paid no mind to the way all his casino companions were frozen around you instead of continuing their games… Suddenly, all you wanted was him. 

Was it blasphemous to lust after a god?

Hell, you could deal with the consequences of that later, for right now, his magnetism was pulling you in and you couldn’t bear to look away from those deep, dark brown eyes… Until Hermes leant closer to you and his soft lips brushed yours as he spoke, barely above a whisper yet you could hear him clearly despite the noise, “Not at all…”

Your breathing hitched, at his comment, at his proximity, at… everything about this. How the fuck did he know what you’d been thinking? 

Perhaps you’d dwell on that longer, but just then he reached up to cup your cheek. Though unexpectedly tender, his touch was white hot where his skin met yours, but pleasurably so as you let yourself get lost in it, in him… He pressed his lips to yours in two delicate little pecks, clearly just teasing, and you just about caught sight of his smirk before you stepped up onto your toes to kiss him again, for real this time. His other hand smoothly dropped to your waist, holding you against him and you pulled at his chain with your finger still caught in it, curling your other fist in the soft cotton of his hoodie.

Apparently, even the gods weren’t immune to carnal need, and Hermes was evidently faring no better than you; he gave in to the kiss quickly, all but melting into you, his tongue swiping insistently at your bottom lip, and you weren’t about to stop him. You parted your lips for him, granting him access instead of prolonging this teasing that had left you both desperate. He tasted of something indescribably sweet, mixed with the rich taste of the blue lotus wine that you’d both downed not so long ago, and you already knew he was a far better intoxicant than any drink you’d find here… As he deepened the kiss, his tongue brazenly tasting yours, borderline hungry; you saw a flash of light behind your eyelids, gripped by the feeling that you were flying, all for a mere moment before you became hyperaware of his heated touch and the fact that your feet were still firmly planted on the soft floral-patterned carpet of the casino.

It felt like time had frozen, the world had stopped around you, and nothing mattered except for him and you and the most perfect kiss you’d ever had…

But somehow, instead of clouding your thoughts like you’d expected, you drew back from his kiss with some clarity. Hermes had told you he could never lose. So why, then, had you just managed to win this? You were no expert when it came to these games, and he was clearly a well-seasoned gambling master… Had the notorious trickster god manipulated the deal in your favour? Had he purposely thrown this away for you?

The glimmer in his eyes only looked brighter as you separated, yet somehow those deep browns looked darker, lust clearly getting the better of him; and he made no effort to hide it, despite his small smile and the lightest hint of a blush on his cheeks. You were fairly sure you mirrored it all, and you were in no hurry to let him go…

Only, as the world began to come back into focus, you realised time really had stopped around you: everything and everyone in the casino was frozen, and you glanced up at the god in front of you with a mix of curiosity and fear in your eyes. “When you said you could stop time…” you began, still in disbelief.

Hermes nodded slowly, meeting your gaze with that characteristic smirk. “Yeah, I meant that literally. I may have had a running out of time crisis once, hence… this stolen life-saver,” he explained, raising his wrist to show you his watch - now upon closer inspection, you realised the hour, minute and second hands all pointed to 12, and he hovered a finger over a button at the side of the dial. “It’s up to you. Want me to bring it back?”

You shook your head. Not only did that beautiful gold timepiece look unfairly gorgeous on his wrist; it also held a piece of magic that could be incredibly useful… “No,” you whispered, “I’m in no hurry. Let’s make this last…”

You tilted your chin up towards him again, and he obliged you with another sweet little kiss. “Well, then… Perhaps I could show you some of the wonders of existing beyond space and time…” he murmured, “What d’you say to that?”

“I say, make time stop for us a little longer. Take me to another world, Hermes…”

The look he shot you just then, could’ve brought you to your knees on the spot - somehow you just knew he was fixated on the sound of his name as you whispered it, and you wondered how he could make you feel that just from a simple touch.

“C’mon, sweetheart; let’s get out of here,” Hermes suggested, offering you an arm; you linked your arm through his as he tapped the side of his watch, resuming the world around you as if it had never paused at all. 

You gazed up at him in awe as he led you out of the casino, back to the lobby and towards the opening of the blooming flower you’d walked in through. The humid summer air hit you both as you stepped outside together, thereby breaking the spell - but you were still captivated by him, regardless. He briefly let go of you to do away with his warm hoodie, leaving him in just a fitted white t-shirt that had no business looking so goddamn gorgeous on him.

You couldn’t help but smile as he hummed softly in your ear, “There’s a place I know in a nearby park…”

Part 2 via AO3 (blasphemous smut ahead)

[creature-wizard]

Three reasons not to use AI to write spells

Large language models generate text based on probability. This means that whatever spell you try to generate would be extremely similar, if not identical, to the first results that would come up if you searched DuckDuckGo.

The creators of large language models are unlikely to care about enough about cultural appropriation and environmental harm to ensure that all of the spell components are ethical on these matters.

Generative AI uses an absurd amount of resources to operate and contribute to pollution and water shortages. This might not be the case forever, but it's how things are right now. And there is simply no reason to have an LMM write a spell for you when you could just search DuckDuckGo.

[firstgradecrushes]

My unpopular EONM opinion is that Teddy is just as interesting as other LMM love interests, he just pales in comparison to the rest of the lineup of dramatic characters in the series. I think people would view Gilbert as just as cookie-cutter bland if we didn’t have six books of proof that he’s a nice guy who makes Anne happy. You also can’t really compare Teddy to Barney, because TBC is the only book in which LMM set out to write a romance. The rest are all good kids lit books that happen to have romantic arcs even though the romance is not the point.

[titleleaf]

so many words about historical men's corsetry

(This got way too long to send via Discord -- Dangimace in the Renegade Bindery server asked about men's corset sewing/resource recs so here is my half-assed and non-exhaustive rundown. Most of my historical sewing is focused on fashions of the UK, US, and Europe for the second half of the 18th century and first half of the 19th century, so that bias is reflected here; also disclaimer overall that "menswear"/"womenswear" are socially constructed categories and real people's bodies have always looked a wider variety of ways than fashion and other social forces would dictate. I sew historical garments with enthusiastic disregard for the historical gender binary and I'm barrel-chested, thick-waisted, and narrow-hipped no matter what I'm wearing.)

Onward, lads!

Ok wrt men's corsetry: there's a whole lot of fogginess around how historical men's corsets were constructed for a bunch of annoying reasons but that means there's lots of possibilities to explore in pattern drafting and project planning. Stays and other stiffened body-shaping garments have a whole complex conceptual relationship to the body basically as soon as they start appearing. 16th and 17th century garments do a whole lot of shaping (both compressing and building up) for men and women alike, but things really kick off in the 18th century in terms of the symbolic weight placed on stays and (later) corsets. Whole lot of stuff about gender, social class, race, fatness, morality, etc. getting projected onto these garments. So I'm a little leery about people taking obviously satirical illustrations of fashion-victim dandies or Gross Corpulent Libertines getting laced into corsets as truthful and indicative of the way men were really dressing -- scurrilous gossip and exaggeration are both a pain to sift through if we want to know which men wore corsets, what kind, and why.

In the very late 18th/early 19th century corsets were part of the repertoire for achieving highly fashionable shapes in menswear. (Along with a whole lot of padding.) They weren't mandatory for all dudes, but for fashion-forward dandies and equally fashion-forward military men, male corsets/stays were definitely a thing. The whole Romantic-era pigeon-breasted, narrow-waisted silhouette can be emulated by shapewear worn beneath the clothes, pads in the garments themselves, or both; in addition to waist reduction it helped to maintain smooth visual lines underneath close-fitting garments.

(look at these minxy 1830s dudes and their tiny waists)

As the century goes on the desired menswear silhouette becomes boxier and less fitted, and male corsetry recedes into the background; we start to see patents and advertisements for men's corsetry, so they still seem to have been worn, but there's a lot more language around vigorous manly athleticism and supporting the structures of the body. It can be hard to tell whether a particular piece is intended to be worn primarily for some medical purpose or for its perceived aesthetic benefits. This is giving me such flashbacks to trying to find post-surgical compression garments.

(Side note: there's also a vigorous tradition of fetishist writing about corsetry all through the 19th century, in fairly mainstream channels, which is fascinating. Due to the relatively private and deeply horny nature of fetish tightlacing we don't necessarily know as much about what those same letter-writers may have "really" worn at home, but I hope they were having fun.)

I've seen very few specifically men's corsetry patterns from historical pattern-makers-- not even really big names like Redthreaded. I sewed my 19thc menswear corsets from the men's underbust pattern in Laughing Moon Mercantile #113 which afaik is speculative rather than reproducing a specific historical garment, but it's not too different from the women's late-19th-century underbust patterns in the same pattern pack.

(image credit: LMM)

However, a lot of underbust and waist-cincher patterns from more general historical patternmakers could be made suitable with some minor alterations. Here I'd also rec books like Jill Salen's Corsets: Historical Patterns And Techniques and Norah Waugh's Corsets & Crinolines, though their focus is definitely on womenswear and you need to be relatively comfortable scaling up or drafting from pattern diagrams.

The structural features and desired results for a man's corset are pretty much the same as any other corset (back support, compression in some areas, etc.) even when the desired silhouette is different; commercially-created patterns are drafted with the expectation of certain bodily proportions so like with all corset-sewing it's important to make a mockup for fitting purposes. (I ended up liking one of my mockups so much I finished the process and made it a whole separate corset.) I don't know much about this area but I seem to see a lot more belt-and-buckle closures and criss-crossing straps in corsets designated as being for men -- this might be a byproduct of gendered differences in how people got dressed, but it might be nothing.

There's some weird and wonderful historical examples, both extant and in images -- I appreciated this post at Matsuzake Sewing, "A Brief Discussion Of Men's Stays", and its accompanying roundup of images on Pinterest though the tone wrt historical fetishwear corsets in the blog post is a little snippy. I really want to make a replica of Thomas Chew's 1810s corset (which you can read more about here at the USS Constitution Museum) but it incorporates stretch panels made with a shitload of metal springs and I'm not ready for all the trial and error trying to replicate that.

(image credit: USS Constitution Museum Collections)

There's a pretty rich vein of modern men's corset patterns which seem like they could be easily pattern-hacked for historical costuming purposes, like these with shoulder straps from Corsets By Caroline or DrobeStoreUpcycling's waist cincher which also looks like it could be altered pretty easily to cinch with straps and buckles like some 19thc men's corsetry does. This pattern for a boned chest binder in vest form by KennaSewLastCentury is also really cool but I didn't get a chance to sew it pre-top-surgery. (I think I've also seen someone who made a chest-compressing variation on Regency short stays, but I can't find it now.) 

In general a lot of underbust and waist-cincher patterns should work just fine for silhouette-shaping without much bust/hip emphasis -- my usual resource for free corset patterns (Aranea Black) recently took down all her free patterns but they're definitely still circulating out there. For general fashion purposes the sky is the limit and there are a lot of enthusiastic dudes in corsets out there. This Lucy Corsetry round-up shows a variety of modern corsetiers'  styles designated as being for men or more masculine silhouettes (including a SUPER aspirational brocaded corset with matching waistcoat made by Heavenly Corsets that I'd love to sew a historical spin on) and you can see some commonalities and possibilities for body-shaping.

I can also give some more general corset-sewing resources but I'm very much in the learning process here and I'd love any recs or input from people more experienced in pattern-drafting and corset-sewing.

[gogandmagog]

Guys! Yesterday I had a book-shaped piece of mail, and inside of it was my copy of Children and Childhoods in L.M. Montgomery: Continuing Conversations being returned, from another very dear user here! I bring this up only because some-months-ago I promised to copy out a particular article from this book, for yet another user here, who was interested! Interested because it’s on the the subject of a Fan Favourite thing... fan fiction. And better still because some of our (basically famous) mutuals here are mentioned by name! If you’ve ever wondered if the Montgomery scholarship is reading your fan fiction... the answer is yes, they are! They totally are. More than that, they also have some thoughts to share… as well as recommendations of their faves too! This article even covers the F/F and M/M fan fiction presented by fans in LMM’s universe, and I’m personally super excited to be able to begin reading these works, as soon as I can find them all. I’ve done my best to link what I could immediately find, but some of the mentioned stories were unavailable... potentially due to changes in usernames? (That said... if anyone knows of the works indicated here, that I haven’t provided a link for, please do share!)   This article, by the way, was written recently... in 2020! It’s very current, and it covers a few stories that were still being actively updated during the pandemic. The focus of this article is less so on canon (or really just the Anne/Gilbert pairing), though, and seems to prefer demonstrating the versatility of mixing relationships (Anne and Emily, for one!) and the wider more general universe-building aspects (the entanglements of future generations/Anne’s grandchildren) that fans have been expounding on for nothing less than decades. 

Okay, here we go! xx

Continuing Stories: L.M. Montgomery and Fanfiction in the Digital Era by Balaka Basu

Fanfiction – the recreational (re)writing of texts – is a literary genre of rapidly growing significance. Abigail Derecho in her brief history of fanfiction identifies it as “a genre that has a long history of appealing to women and minorities, minorities, individuals on the cultural margins who used archontic writing as a means to express not only their narrative creativity, but their criticisms of social and political inequities as well.”

Insightfully defined by Francesca Coppa and Mary Ellen Curtin as “speculative fiction about character,” fanfiction can be even more precisely understood as fantasies about the diegetic positioning of characters in the context of various settings, communities, relationships both textual and paratextual, and eventually all manner of cultural mythologies.

Kristina Busse and Karen Hellekson describe the production of fanfiction as “part collaboration and part response to not only the source text, but also the cultural context within and outside the fannish community in which it is produced.”

They point out that the shift in the method of dissemination of fanfiction from newsletters and zines to internet archives means that “ever-younger fans who previously would not have had access to the fannish culture except through their parents can now enter the fan space effortlessly; financial resources have become less of a concern because access to a computer is the only prerequisite; and national boundaries and time zones have ceased to limit fannish interaction.”

The nature of fanfiction allows participants to cross-generational and socio-economic boundaries in an ongoing exchange of responses to a source text with which they share a fascination, developing new texts that in turn elicit their own responses. While the creation of fanfiction is evidence of an affective, loving, communal relationship with the source text, this genre of writing is still dismissed in many quarters as overly emotional, purely erotic, and even perverse, a type of amateur and immature engagement with popular texts that produces writing necessarily divorced from literary significance. Produced in staggeringly vast quantities by subcultures with complex vocabularies and traditions that can intimidate the casual reader, fanfiction is perceived by many to be more of a cultural practice than a literary genre, variously denigrated for its pornographic potential and its lack of originality. However, close examination reveals that fan writers are able to create a critical dialogue with the originating author in acts of communal storytelling that incorporate allusions and reference points to which other dedicated fan readers and writers may respond.

In this chapter, after examining how L.M. Montgomery and her writer heroine Emily themselves engage in practices now associated with fanfiction, I survey four forms of fanfiction that remove Montgomery’s novels from her seemingly idyllic and timeless island settings, contextualizing her characters and plots within history and other genres: the sequel set during the Second World War, the modern AU (alternate universe), the gap-filler, and the slash fic, all of which allow the young readers who grow up with her novels to engage in dialogue with the stories they love, a type of literary conversation that Montgomery herself models within her texts. Emily’s reading, which is active rather than passive, resembles twenty-first-century fans’ ownership of the texts they love, provoking creative responses. For instance, after reading works by Lord Tennyson, Elizabeth Barrett Browning, and Matthew Arnold, Emily writes, “Teddy lent me 3 books of poetry. One of them was Tennyson and I have learned The Bugle Song off by heart so I will always have it. One was Mrs. Browning. She is lovely. I would like to meet her. I suppose I will when I die but that may be a long time away. The other was just one poem called Sohrab and Rustum. After I went to bed I cried over it. Aunt Elizabeth said ‘what are you sniffling about?’ I wasn’t sniffling – I was weeping sore … I couldn’t go to sleep until I had thought out a different end for it – a happy one.”

The reactions Emily catalogues are those of the fan; they are viscerally felt in the body and attempt to dissolve the boundary between author and reader, producer and consumer. She inscribes Tennyson within her heart in order to possess the poem she loves; she creates a relationship between Barrett Browning and herself; and, most significantly, she interjects her own desired happy ending into Arnold’s tragic narrative, a corrective desire that is at the core of many works of fanfiction. Emily’s diaries and her story reflect Montgomery’s own experiences from childhood to adulthood as reader, writer, and reader-turned-writer discussed in the introduction to this volume. Depicting Emily as a voracious reader and a life-writer like herself, Montgomery places the child Emily’s voice in conversation with that of the narrator through Emily’s letters to her dead father in Emily of New Moon and through her diary entries in Emily Climbs and Emily’s Quest, creating a form of joint authorship that is referenced explicitly in “Salad Days,” the second chapter of Emily Climbs: “book is not going to be wholly, or even mainly, made up of extracts from Emily’s diary; but, by way of linking up matters unimportant enough for a chapter in themselves, and yet necessary for a proper understanding of her personality and environment, I am going to include some more of them. Besides, when one has material ready to hand, why not use it?”

The narrator’s willingness to use the “material” that is “ready to hand” reflects Montgomery’s and Emily’s practices, and also validates other writers’ use of the material Montgomery places at their disposal. As with many fans, Emily’s reading frequently makes itself felt within her writing.

Like Montgomery, Emily learns her trade through mimicry, from her first poem in blank verse inspired by James Thomson’s Seasons to her unwitting imitation of Kipling that is pointed out by her teacher, Mr Carpenter, in his review of her work. Like Sara Stanley of The Story Girl, whose compelling and fascinating stories are rarely if ever original, Emily is a fan of the oral traditions of her community, incorporating and building upon them in her own writing, transforming and recreating, for instance, the story of “The Woman Who Spanked the King” in Emily Climbs.

The retelling and versioning that Emily practises signal her immense admiration for the source texts she adapts, just as the creation of fanfiction does for Montgomery’s readership and fans. The possibilities inherent in versioning and adaptation are illustrated in Emily’s Quest. When Montgomery depicts Emily undertaking the reworking of someone else’s narrative, she is adapting an episode from her own experience while working for The Echo in Halifax, which she records in her journal. Montgomery, like Emily, was asked to create an ending for a serialized story, “A Royal Betrothal,” after compositors had misplaced the original text.

Like Emily, she claims that her “knowledge of royal love affairs [was] limited,” and that she was unaccustomed “to write with flippant levity of kings and queens.” Nevertheless, Montgomery manages to create a conclusion that passes muster, since “as yet nobody has guessed where the ‘seam’ comes in.” She is, however, curious about the original author’s reaction to her unauthorized adaptation, and while she never discovers this in real life, she does imagine it in her fiction when she introduces Mark Greaves, who is horrified by Emily’s new ending for the story but enchanted by its author. Neither Montgomery nor Emily engages in this sort of writing from a place of fandom; they have no previous attachment to “A Royal Betrothal,” and both are writing professionally. Nevertheless, the ability to solve the puzzle of the story and the weaving of their work into an already extant text are the very project of fanfiction: ludic narrative composition that recalls the way children play make-believe with the narratives they love, reworking and extending them. It is telling that Montgomery uses the metaphor of the “seam” to describe this particular craft. Jane Dawkins, writing about her fanfiction, which is inspired by Jane Austen, describes her fan novel Letters from Pemberley as “an old-fashioned patchwork quilt, where in place of the scraps of fabric reminding one of the favorite frocks or shirts whence they came, there is a line or a phrase or a sentence from one of [the original] books or letters stitched alongside the lesser scraps of my own manufacture.”

Montgomery’s final book, framed by the two world wars, is just such a patchwork sequel, albeit providing only brief glimpses of the characters that readers met as children and who have now grown older. When a version of the book was published in 1974 as The Road to Yesterday, these glimpses, lacking the interstitial materials, became even briefer, mirroring the more forced insertion of beloved characters that the two earlier collections, Chronicles of Avonlea and Further Chronicles of Avonlea, display. Only two of Anne’s grandchildren – Gilbert Ford and Walter Blythe – are obliquely referred to, in the story “A Commonplace Woman,” where an unpleasant young doctor reflects on both of them as potential rivals for the affection of a beautiful girl he himself hopes to pursue.

However, the full novel, The Blythes Are Quoted, published in 2009 and comprised of short stories about the people in Glen St Mary and over the harbour, is interspersed with poetry by both a young Walter and an adult Anne. The poems are cut with tiny slices of dialogue that suggest the continuing lives of fans’ favourite characters and how they might have developed. In “‘Dragged at Anne’s Chariot Wheels’: L.M. Montgomery and the Sequels to Anne of Green Gables,” Carole Gerson notes the mixture of feelings from pleasure to frustration that Montgomery records in her journals as she prepares to write her first sequel.

While Montgomery wrote the first installments of her various series out of inspiration, she was certainly aware of what her market desired from subsequent installments. She often regretted the necessity of marrying off her characters, but was aware that her fans demanded this conventional outcome for the characters they had come to love; these traditionally romantic endings, when not offered by Montgomery herself at the instigation of her publishers, are regularly deployed by contemporary fanfiction authors building on the source texts.

Indeed, long before the original structure of The Blythes Are Quoted was revealed to readers in Benjamin Lefebvre’s afterword, fanfiction writers were spinning off lengthy narratives that included a third generation of young Blythes, Fords, and Merediths dealing with the onslaught of the Second World War. While earlier installments in the Anne series – such as Anne of Green Gables and Anne’s House of Dreams – depict the deaths of Matthew, Anne and Gilbert’s first daughter (Joyce), and Captain Jim, Walter’s death in Rilla of Ingleside is somehow more striking. Unlike Matthew and Captain Jim, he has not yet had time to grow old; unlike Joyce, readers have had opportunities to get to know him as a child in Rainbow Valley and as he grows into young adulthood in Rilla of Ingleside. His death is unnatural and, therefore, all the more horrifying. These two aspects of Rilla of Ingleside – the evocation of history by a nostalgic fictional world that is still tied to real time and the use of high drama, tragedy, and romance – provide fanfiction authors with a model they can use to appeal to the emotions of those readers who are immersed in the next generation of Montgomery characters.

The Second World War, then, provides an entry point into the series for fanfiction authors, who can deploy real history coupled with beloved characters to create a tale that feels absolutely authentic. One example of this is a short story, “The Pen and the Sword,” written in 2007 by MarnaNightingale. Here, mimicking the style of Dorothy L. Sayers’s The Wimsey Papers (a series of Spectator articles published between 1939 and 1940, which interestingly also continue the story of First World War–era characters during the Second World War), MarnaNightingale employs epistolary excerpts and newspaper articles to tell the story of a family going through the horrors of war for a second time. Grounding her fragmented story – like The Blythes Are Quoted, a mixture of genres – in the accounts of novelist Mollie Panter-Downes (1939) and war correspondents Ernie Pyle (1940) and Ross Munro of the Canadian Press (1941), whose articles are attributed to Kenneth Ford, she offers a story that, like Rilla of Ingleside, is anchored to the historical moment, while also nostalgically focusing on the character development that comes from Gilbert Ford’s death, Rilla’s and Faith’s reactions to the war, and the lives of their children. Here war also serves as an opportunity for new experiences, particularly for women and children: Rilla takes a factory job as a machinist, liking it better than working in Carter Flagg’s store; one of Anne’s grandchildren, Susan, plans to be a doctor; and Faith, who worked as a Voluntary Aid Detachment nurse in the First World War, mentions how she can sympathize. As well, the daily tidbits that flavour the pages of Rilla of Ingleside are there: one article, attributed to Anne, includes the recipe for Susan Baker’s war bread, reminding readers of the problems of wartime rationing, even in the Americas. Real life events – like the Canadian forces trying (and failing) to make a beachhead at Dieppe – arouse the passions of the reader. Unlike Austen – who also famously wrote of three or four families in a country town, but kept the Napoleonic wars firmly in the shadows – Montgomery brings the passions and high drama of the world stage into the sleepy villages of Prince Edward Island, which inspire fanfiction spinoffs.

The long novel Cecilia of Red Apple Farm, by a fan author who posts under the pseudonym ruby gillis, also directly reworks passages and scenes from the whole range of Anne books, set in the late-nineteenth century, to The Blythes Are Quoted, set in the early years of the Second World War, to highlight the similarity between her new generation of characters and their ancestors. Cecilia is the daughter of Una Meredith and Shirley Blythe (characters often married off in fanfiction). Like MarnaNightingale, ruby gillis provides period flavouring in the styles of dresses and behaviour and in references to 1940s popular films and songs. Simultaneously, this setting offers new opportunities to her female character: Cecilia wants to be a doctor, and rather than staying in Canada, she joins up to be a nurse in England. She has a series of romances – one with Sid Gardiner (before he marries May Binnie), and one with her cousin Blythe Meredith, who is this generation’s poet – before finally ending up with Marshall Douglas (the son of Mary Vance). Just as Anne initially refuses Gilbert Blythe in favour of Roy Gardner’s resemblance to her ideal man in Anne of the Island, ruby gillis’s Cecilia is fooled by the allure of Sid and Blythe as Roy Gardner–like romantic heroes into believing that she does not truly love her fun, practical, “Gilbert-esque” friend. Published in 2004, Cecilia of Red Apple Farm further illustrates the opportunities presented by reusing and reworking a body of texts through its incorporation of Montgomery’s poem “I Wish You” as the work of Blythe Meredith. Montgomery includes this poem and attributes it to Anne in The Blythes Are Quoted, although ruby gillis could not have known this when writing. The repetition of names and circumstances might seem derivative, but for readers who have read and reread the original books so many times, the extension of the story world is prized, even if – perhaps even because of – its callbacks to the original text. Due to the tendency of fans to fixate on “the good bits” in a reread, these parts can be taken for the whole.

Austen fanfiction demonstrates this aptly. Indeed, Helen Fielding’s second Bridget Jones novel, Bridget Jones and the Edge of Reason (1999), illustrates just such a reading of Pride and Prejudice: she shows Bridget, a fan, watching the scene from the 1995 mini-series in which Darcy, dripping in a wet see-through shirt, exits the lake, and then rewinding and rewatching the scene multiple times. How many times might a similar fan reread Walter’s letter from Courcelette? This repeated reviewing of selected portions can replace the amplitude of the original novel. With this delimited focus, narrative is no longer seen as a progression, but as a single moment of pleasure, sustained as long as possible. Reading the Second World War as a repetitive sequel to the First World War further highlights this possibility.

Even Montgomery seems to do so, as demonstrated in The Blythes Are Quoted, with its new generation of characters confusingly named after the old: Walter, Jem, Rilla, Di, Anne, and Gilbert. A variation on Marah Gubar’s kinship model, this kind of continuation highlights the blurred boundaries between child and adult characters who are literally related to one another and whose adventures mimic one another.

In a third example of fanfiction set during the Second World War, Weeping May Tarry, a long novel by ElouiseBates, Meggie, the heroine, is Shirley’s daughter (and also, surprisingly, Paul Irving’s granddaughter). In this story, which like Cecilia of Red Apple Farm is an installment of a longer series, Meggie is sent off to a conservatory of music to study singing, aptly combining the traditions of the nostalgic boarding-school novel with “Girl’s Own” wartime fiction. Following the tradition of Magic for Marigold, which explicitly suggests in its second chapter that the Murrays of Blair Water and the Lesleys of Cloud of Spruce exist in the same universe, @e-louise-bates (like many other fanfiction authors, including ruby gillis) suggests that all of Montgomery’s characters exist in a single universe: Meggie partners briefly with the grandson of Sara Stanley (The Story Girl and The Golden Road) and is close friends with Jane Stuart (Jane of Lantern Hill).

Going even further, @e-louise-bates introduces the grandchildren of the What Katy Did series as friends for Meggie and includes Betsy from Dorothy Canfield Fisher’s Understood Betsy as Bruce Meredith’s wife, creating a world where all the characters of early-twentieth-century girls’ fiction seem to have truly lived, where their descendants must cope with victory gardens and dances with soldiers at the Exhibition Grounds, and where kisses are much more commonplace than they once were.

These particular continuers of Montgomery are also desirous of membership in the community of her fans, seeing their literary endeavours as productive of approval from a fellow readership. Likewise, the novels are notable for their sociality – they seem to offer the reader not only a fantasy friendship with the characters themselves but also the very real society of fellow readers of the works. Thus, these fan authors attempt to diversify their stories so that they represent contemporary beliefs regarding multiculturalism; ruby gillis, for instance, introduces into the family by way of marriage a French girl who has had to flee the Nazis due to being Jewish, a situation Montgomery and her contemporaries might have had some difficulty accepting, considering early-twentieth-century attitudes toward interreligious marriage and Montgomery’s othering of the German-Jewish peddler who sells Anne green hair dye.

The Second World War thus offers writers of Montgomery fanfiction the loom on which to weave new, more diverse stories, even as The Blythes Are Quoted, which also traces the characters’ reactions to this new war, demonstrates how these readers-turned-writers followed Montgomery’s own trajectory, not knowing that they were doing so. On the subject of fanfiction, young-adult author Patricia C. Wrede writes: “The thing that fascinates me about fanfiction, though, is the way that it models the decision tree that writers go through (whether consciously or unconsciously) to get to their final product. For those of us who do this part mostly unconsciously, it can be interesting and instructing to see the multitude of alternate paths that a story could have taken, all laid out more-or-less neatly in different authors’ fanfics [… taking a slightly different fork in the road] resulting in the plot veering in a completely new direction. Friends become enemies; enemies become friends; goals and objectives and results shift and change.” Within these pieces of fanfiction, then, fan writers are able to follow these decision trees with subsequent generations of characters as well.

Another avenue of access occurs when fan authors transpose historical narratives into the contemporary moment. Perhaps the best-known example of this modern alternate universe [AU] conversion is the television program Sherlock, which takes Arthur Conan Doyle’s Victorian detective into the twenty-first century. While new cultural contexts appear, the essence of character is meant to be retained. Just as Sherlock uses text messages and blogs to substitute for telegraphs and handwritten journals, fans of Montgomery reimagine the relationships between her characters as if they were taking place online.

For instance, “Work in Progress” (2012) by verity postulates a friendship between Montgomery’s most famous heroines, Anne and Emily. In this piece of fanfiction, Emily circumvents Aunt Elizabeth’s injunction against fiction during her time at Shrewsbury High by becoming a blogger who is restricted to the “truth.” The story’s online summary, a part of which reads “Anne rolls her eyes. ‘Is your aunt really going to know if you cheat on your nonfiction with some hot prose on the side?’” shows how the story preserves the character qualities that Montgomery laid out, complete with references to the Murray pride and Anne’s orphanhood. Mr Carpenter’s admonitions are spelled out at the beginning of the story:

“Emily Byrd Starr has a sticky note on her desktop. It reads:

ITALICS

CAPITALS

!!!!!

“just”

“really”

CTRL+F!

It is almost like having Mr Carpenter in the room with her.”

Verity creates humour through the juxtaposition of contemporary social media and allusions to Montgomery’s source text. Another story by verity detailing Rilla’s romance with Ken Ford and her friendship with Una Meredith, “Rilla of Toronto,” takes place mainly through instant messages. In this story, Rilla reflects on her life from eighteen to twenty-five, tracing a continuum from her child self to her new adulthood, underscored by verity’s translation of Montgomery’s work into contemporary millennial language.

A third type of fanfiction narrative, the gap-filler, focuses on and expands the implications of the source texts. Moira Walley-Beckett’s Netflix/CBC series Anne with an “E,” as Laura Robinson shows in chapter 12 of this volume, is somewhat fanfictional in and of itself: as Robinson points out, the show fills gaps by bringing to the fore the darker currents that have always been beneath the seemingly untroubled waters of Anne of Green Gables, including Anne’s potential post-traumatic stress disorder from the disturbing life she led before coming to Green Gables. This kind of versioning and adaptation tacitly permits fan authors to feel that their versions are just as valid as those produced by professionals. Gap-fillers frequently expand on romantic pairings and in fandom are often referred to by portmanteaux of characters’ names that perpetuate some inside joke or work as puns. “Shirbert” – a moniker for Anne and Gilbert – is the latter, and demonstrates how fans posting on sites like Archive of Our Own (Ao3), Fanfiction.net, and Wattpad (this last generally populated by younger fans) develop their own language to identify their stories within the community for which they write.

One such story, “You caught me staring, but I caught you staring back,” by Anuka, clearly inspired more by the television series than the novels, begins with an author’s note that reads, “I decided to write some fluff for these two, because I need more Shirbert moments, and season 2 is so far away. I added gifs to make it more vivid.” Here, the romance between Anne and Gilbert as depicted by Montgomery and Walley-Beckett is not sufficient for the reader-turned-writer. Anuka wants the gaps in the narrative to be more fully explored than they are on either page or screen and to be made more “vivid” by the inclusion of images that help make the story come alive.

Similarly, “Rilla Blythe’s Wedding: A Not Entirely Comprehensive Account” by Scylla also fills a gap: Rilla and Ken’s wedding day, a scene that Montgomery leaves to the reader’s imagination at the end of Rilla of Ingleside. Modelled upon other accounts of weddings within Montgomery’s fiction, the story also suggests that accounts of Walter’s death have been gravely exaggerated, as he makes a stunning appearance at his sister’s wedding. In order to align her work with Montgomery’s novel, Scylla ensures that Little Dog Monday’s awareness of Walter’s death remains, but makes it only a technicality, writing, “His heart had stopped for a full ten seconds – long enough for his Captain to feel for his empty pulse and for Dog Monday to be jolted with the fullness of his death. Little dogs, after all, can only have tender dogs’ hearts. Grief to Dog Monday was an all-consuming thing, and when Walter’s heart began to beat once more, he was deaf to its spark of joy.” After meeting with his eldest sister, Joyce, in heaven – which is, as he had always hoped, Rainbow Valley, Walter is returned to life so that he may write of peace as well as war (as he did when he was a boy), marry Una, and repair the broken hearts of readers who did not want to lose him.

While heterosexual pairings are the most prevalent in Montgomery fandom, there is room for queer imaginings as well.

This very popular genre of fanfiction, known as “slash,” is generally defined as stories that centre on samesex romances between characters, particularly between men. Montgomery slash fiction usually stars Walter Blythe.

One slash story, “but i don’t know who you are” by @freyafrida, imagines a bisexual Walter. Told in an enduringly popular sub-genre of fanfiction often referred to as Five Things Plus One (which involves a series of thematically linked but not necessarily chronological scenes), the story is summarized by @freyafrida as “Five people Walter thought he wanted, and one person he didn’t notice until it was too late.”

This last person is original to Montgomery’s text: Una, whose apparently unreturned attraction to Walter is woven through Rilla of Ingleside. The other five potential partners are all alluded to as Walter’s close friends, beginning in childhood with Alice Parker from Anne of Ingleside and Pat Brewster from The Blythes Are Quoted and then carrying on through adolescence and young adulthood with Faith Meredith, Ken Ford, and finally Paul Irving from Anne of Avonlea. While his feelings for Faith and Ken are clearly unrequited, Alice, Pat, and Paul all express their own desire for Walter. The inclusion of the famous poet and Walter’s “model” uncle, Paul Irving, in particular, particular, illustrates how traits of sensitivity and aesthetic appreciation that challenge traditional ideas about masculinity are frequently interpreted as queer by fan readers and writers.

In another slash fiction, cero_ate’s “The Moving Finger Writes, and Having Writ Moves On,” Walter discovers his homosexuality while fighting in Europe:

He wrote half truths and lies once more, when he wrote his Rilla that he could not form poems of the depths of the war. For who could write his sister of the phallic love he had found? He had found his reason in a tow-headed American boy. He meant so much more to Walter than mere friendship could explain. He wanted to write, as sweethearts write, of the tempest of joy in the darkest night. But how would they understand? How would they even try to understand he sought not the Dark Lady of Shakespeare but the youth, fair and Wilde? When he was presented with Una’s faithful heart, he spurned it. When his tow-headed darling presented his own, Walter took it, greedy for him. His grecian style love, the boy who’s [sic] eyes danced, even in the darkest of days. He would do anything to keep him safe. But he could not present him to his family, for their scorn or pity. War had broken him, but made him as well.

While male/male pairings are generally the most popular stories in fandoms, Montgomery’s novels, peopled as they are by communities of girls and women, require that readers who want to queer the text must explore what is called femslash (that is, slash fiction featuring two female characters).

Such relationships have been explored within the academic setting. For instance, Laura Robinson remarks in “Bosom Friends: Lesbian Desire and the Anne Books,” that the relationship between Anne and Diana uses “the language that readers associate with adult romantic love rather than girlhood affections,” even as it is expressed through the heterosexual paradigm of marriage.

One fanfiction author, ArcticLava21, makes it clear that such fan written stories are not speculation but instead address key issues of representation. The author’s note to ArcticLava21’s short Anne/Diana story, “Nature,” reads, “Hello everybody! Hope your [sic] having a wonderful day. Before anyone yells at me for ‘sexualizing platonic friendships’ please note that this is for all those queer kids who grew up pretending. Pretending that he ended up with him instead of her, or desperately wanted representation. Are we good? <3 Enjoy yourselves lovely people.” The intended audience of the story, “queer kids who grew up,” again establishes the transgenerational kinship between Montgomery’s child and adult fans.

All fan fiction, shared on the Internet, exist in dialogue not just with Montgomery’s fiction but with the author herself, and between the fans who read the novels as children and adolescents and the adults that these readers become.

Whether fan writers extend the narrative or fill gaps, transpose chronology or to queer the text, these pieces of fanfiction allow fans not only to insert themselves into the narrative, but also simultaneously to revivify the original novels, published a century ago. In performing interventions to the text, Montgomery’s young fans grow up to reply to the discussions that she began long ago in the pages of her journals and stories, ensuring that all three – author, reader, and text – are continually reborn into a conversation that will never end.

[anneofgreengablesthings]

The L.M. Montgomery Literary Society posted this lovely photo of the three boys LMM dedicated Rainbow Valley to. It caused me to wonder who they were and what connection they had to Maud. I wrote a little bit of what I discovered below in honor of Veteran's Day/Rememberance Day. It seems they were members of the church her husband Ewan pastored in Zephyr. Maud and Ewan gave a going away dinner for the young men of their congregation and she wrote that her heart ached as she looked around the table at the young men they had come to know well.

Robert Brookes was the oldest of the three, at 32. Before leaving Canada, he left his farm to the care of his sister and her husband, and left documentation willing most of the land to them, as if he knew he would not return. Maud was close with him and his sister as they were close in age to her in a congregation of mostly young people or elderly. He took furlough to England, like Jims' father did. His sister wrote him there that she had a new baby daughter and he was thrilled to hear about his niece, writing "I want you to take good care of that little girl. I’m willing to go back and do my duty to the end, then when I come back she’ll be great company for me.” He returned to the front and was killed in the Third Battle of Ypres, reportedly while helping a wounded man to safety. He was quoted in local newspapers for his brave words, (link)and for how cheerfully he had given up his successful farm and went to defend his country. He was very close to his sister and wrote her many letters, similar to Walter and Rilla's relationship. His sister was understandably devastated. Maud remained close friends with her and supported her through this.

Maud ran an aid society and sent care packages to each soldier from Ewan's church. She was greatly incensed to receive a letter from a friend calling the war a "commercial" one. As a result of this she doubled down on her efforts to check on "the boys" and their families, becoming closest to these three.

Goldwin Lapp was just 22 when he was killed, and his parents bought a plaque at church "sacred to his memory" which Maud would later take inspiration from for Walter's plaque in Rilla.

Morley was a teacher who trained as a pilot, perhaps the inspiration for Shirley's flying. He was 23 when killed. His death was noted by LMM in her diary. Here is an article about that.

Most interesting of all, a member of the 116th battalion, mostly made up of Zephyr men, reported hearing a "bugler calling him" for years before the war and even wrote a poem about it. Perhaps this was inspiration for Walter's poem and premonition.

Sorry for the long post! I just found the tie-ins to Rilla and Rainbow Valley fascinating and wanted to share for anyone else interested. This website was a great source.

[pardonmydelays]

i don't think it's even possible, but if anyone i know irl ever finds this account, i'd probably have to kill myself leave the country

[no-where-new-hero]

Local girl realizes that, when writing fiction, you can, in fact, decide anything can happen if you want it to. Local girl is stunned by this freeing observation.

[batrachised]

Did LMM have a good relationship with her husband? Was it a love match?

oh ho ho, this is a bit of a thorny question to answer!

The answer writ large is no - at least, LM Montgomery would not have us believe so. The picture she paints in her (notoriously unreliable!) journals is a rather miserable one. To be clear, there's no huge reason to doubt her when it comes to her marriage, if only because only she and Ewan would know the truth behind closer doors. However, LMM was fully aware when writing her journals that she was also writing her autobiography if that makes sense, and she characterized people accordingly; you could argue she almost cast them in the role she wanted them to play with her keen narrative sense.

That being said, this is not my attempt to argue that Ewan was actually great. I just wanted to make clear that what follows is what LM Montgomery wanted us to believe, which as proven in other instances, was not always the same thing as the truth!

LM Montgomery was blunt from the start in her journals that she did not love Ewan. She claimed the only man she ever loved was a man named Herman Leard, something that his family was taken aback by when her journals were published (questionable point number one!). However, the general consensus of biographers to my understanding is that LM Montgomery was getting older, was unmarried, and wanted children. On top of that, her personal life was destabilizing; the home she'd always stayed in had been bequeathed to a relative whom, to my impression, would not have taken care of an aging spinster relative. So LM Montgomery married Ewan, the minister.

What seems to be a decent enough marriage turned miserable after they had two kids. While it was never a "love match" according to LM Montgomery, she seemed content enough (besides despising being a minister's wife, which required a public role that could be grinding, and her struggles with mental health that followed her her entire life). Then, several years into their marriage, Ewan started exhibiting severe signs of religious melancholia. He essentially believed he was damned to hell; there was nothing he could do about it; and that he was helplessly waiting for the inevitable. This manifested in him being severely depressed and withdrawn for months on end, occasionally popping in and out of recovery with no apparent trigger or explanation.

Obviously, this would be an extremely difficult burden to bear nowadays when we have a much better understanding of mental health. Back then, there was basically nothing LMM could do. This was especially difficult because Ewan was a minister, and so she felt like she had to keep his ailment largely secret. In her journals, she frets about what would happen if their congregation found it, and how she'd take care of her boys if Ewan had to end up going to a sanitarium. This was also after the death of her beloved friend Frede, so according to LM Montgomery, she truly had no one to talk to about this--not a friend in the world.

Ewan's problems reached the point to where at one point, he was driving LMM (can't remember if their children were there, believe they were) around and they got into a horrible accident - and when LM Montgomery wrote of it in the journal, she questioned whether he had done so deliberately, implying that he was suicidal and trying to take down his family with him.

As you can see, this was not the recipe for a healthy or happy marriage. Additionally, I have heard although I can't recall the source that some believe that he resented her for her success and that's why you have the common figure of "husband supporting wife's ambitions" in her stories.

[carpehistoryandthepens]

Legacy (what is a legacy?) Part 16

It’s planting seeds in a garden you never get to see I wrote some notes at the beginning of a song someone will sing for me

Hamilton, the world was wide enough. LMM.

one, two, three, four, Five, six seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen

Summary: Mike is 13. Born May 2009. Sid didn’t know he had a son. All Mike had was hope and a prayer for his and his half-sister’s safety.

(Sid is a dad of a teen he didn’t know about AU) Sidgeno.

Warnings: (for the total story) post-child abuse (all off-screen but it affects things and is spoken about often), learning how to parent, panic attacks, anxiety, based on the 22-23 season, that said last season when i wrote these tags originally, but hey, it takes me a LONG time to write, so now its no longer last season, OCs?, the realization about sexuality. Post breakups. Desperate lack of in-depth research for CPS in both PA/CA, melodrama?, kidfic, angst, slowburn, playing fast and loose with the law for drama/storytelling purposes

-

Sid and Geno chose to order dinner rather than try to make anything from the kitchen in the same way they sometimes communicated on the ice during a play: simultaneously and with good practice. Of course, that commutation tended to be about power plays, and now Sid should really get to the net so Geno could get the puck to him, but sometimes it's pizza.

One of the Italian places near them made good in-season meals and pizza for the kids. Geno mocked him for not having an app for the place or a food delivery service, but Sid would rather call in and talk to a person instead of ordering from a faceless app.

There was also the fact that until Mike and Marisol came into his life a few weeks ago, he didn't need a kid-friendly delivery service.

All Sid had to do was call in the order, but he had no idea what the kids wanted. How was he supposed to be a good father? After this afternoon, Sid was determined to be the best father he could be.

Some of that had to have played across his face as Geno laughed and told him to go ask. Geno admonished him to remember that he wouldn't be perfect without practice.

Sid knocked on Mike and Marisol's door, looking over the crumpled computer paper that had now decorated the entrance. He hadn't noticed when Marisol was actually drawing, but it appeared a few days ago.  

Marisol had drawn a landscape with a sun smiling down on three people on what Sid thought was ice. The ground was blue, at least; it could be water, but the two taller figures had black skates on. The most petite person, whom Sid assumed was Marisol, wore white skates. They were all holding hands, with Marisol in the middle. Sid's person was black and yellow, with what looked like an attempt at an "87" in a childish hand scrawled on the chest. Mike's number was in purple and gold – much like the Kings' old jersey – but Sid wasn't sure of the number. Sid assumed it was his former team's colors.

Marisol opened the door and looked up to meet Sid's eyes. Sid wasn't sure he would ever get over the height difference between him and her—she was so small. Despite her yawning, she was awake.

"Hello Mari, is your brother up?"

She blinked at him and nodded rather than responding verbally. Marisol opened the door fully to show that Mike and Nikita had crashed on Mike's bed. Both of them were curled around each other, and it was adorable. Sid nearly died of adorableness just looking at the two boys. He needed a picture to show Geno and the rest of the team. Anna would be so pleased.

He reached into his pocket for his phone before Helena's warning from a few days before floating back.

"No photos! I don't know you well, Mr. Crosby, but I don't think it will be an issue. However! California and Pennsylvania don't allow minors with contested guardianship to have their images used online. It wouldn't be safe for them."

Sid took his hand out of his pocket, leaving the phone where it was. Anna would have to settle for a story rather than a photo. He would do anything to keep his kids safe, even if it meant he couldn't share all the cute things that his kids did. While unfortunate—he wanted to be like the dads on the team, always with new photos—Sid could do without.

Marisol returned to playing with a set of dolls on the floor, clearly in the middle of some story. Jeff had shown up a few days ago with the dolls, saying his girls didn't want or need them anymore and that they had insisted the dolls go to someone who would love them. Marisol's eyes lit up when she saw the dolls for the first time, so Sid was pretty sure Jeff's girls would be pleased with where they ended up. So Sid had been grateful because he didn't understand what Marisol would like. They hadn't had much chance to get her toys yet. Sid mentally set the next off day to ensure they got stuff for her soon. Nikita's toys were enough for now, but she needed more of her own stuff.

"Can I play?" Sid let the boys sleep momentarily and followed Marisol to the dolls. "How are you feeling?" he asked, settling beside her at her nod.

"Muy cansada." She yawned, with as much of the energy he had come to expect of her post-nap self, "You be Dad. I'm Bluey." She ordered – neither of the dolls in her hands were of the dogs from the cartoon he had heard a lot about from the dads on the team. He didn't know much about Bluey, but Mike had put it on a few times in both English and Spanish, so Sid figured he would know soon.

Sid took a doll from her hand and tried desperately to remember what cansada was in Spanish while ignoring the simple 'you be Dad' felt like. He had just heard it on the TV program they had been watching yesterday morning. Something about sleep? But it was before the character had gone to bed…

Tired. It meant tired. Marisol was tired.

As they played for a bit, Sid gently talked to Marisol, trying to learn more about her feelings and whether she was doing better. It was hard because she kept answering in Spanish, and Sid was sure it was just as disjointed as her English. With Sid's Spanish being… not good, to say the least, it was a bit of a struggle following along. It was better than it was a month ago, but not good. But he kept on trying.

Besides feeling tired, he had to find out what she was experiencing. Once he was reassured that she wasn't upset anymore or had too many immediate emotional reactions to the day, he gently asked, "Do you want pizza for dinner?"

She nodded quickly, dropping her dolls, "Pizza! I want pizza. With pepperoni and cheese!" She was loud enough to wake the boys.

Nikita was the first to move. Still filled with the energy of children, he was not as tired as Marisol. He woke up and nearly vaulted off the bed like Sid had expected Marisol to do.

Mike was a much slower-to-wake-up teenager. "Pizza?" Mike asked, voice thick with sleep but somehow still processing. Food did that to hungry hockey players, especially when they were in their teens. Mike could and probably would, especially after today - both being on the ice for the first time in a while and Marisol's panic attack – finish the entire pie by himself.

Sid nodded, hiding a laugh at the hungry teenager presented before him. "Yeah, Pizza. What do you want?" He should know his kid's pizza order. That's a thing parents know, right?

Mike raddled off an order of toppings that Sid felt needed to write down; he still sounded half asleep. Marisol's order was much easier to remember.

"Hold on," Sid said, reaching for his phone to write it all down. Nikita was already giving him a basic order, saying that Sid had seen Geno eat a time or two in their youth—lots of tomatoes and mushrooms.

Once Nikita was done talking, Mike's brain seemed entirely online, and he immediately backpedaled. "Cheese would be fine," he said, looking away toward Marisol.

Marisol didn't even notice; she and Nikita played with the dolls and talked about pizza.

Sid sighed internally; someday, Mike would allow himself to take up room. "One meat lover with green pepper and jalapenos." He said firmly, using a little of the captain's voice he had for rookies who were nervous for their first games. He tapped the order into his notes app.

Mike looked up, and despite some of the worry and stress still on his face, even after the nap, he smiled. For once, he looked like the teenager he was rather than a lost child.

[tybaltsjuliet]

Favourite pieces of Weird Girl media? That uquiz has me Thinking (along with that gothic heroine dress up game, might revisit the concept of a gothic romance I came up with some years back)

any and every alice in wonderland, of course! my all-time beloved.

so weird. this was a show that ran on disney channel in the ’90s. the protagonist, fiona, has paranormal adventures and encounters while traveling all over on her musician mom’s tour bus and writes about them on her fantastically ’90s webpage. fi is a True Believer and her family and friends largely think she’s a lunatic. her father died under Mysterious Paranormal Circumstances that haunt and vex her. this show made me who i am today and as my rewatch last fall can confirm - a lot of the scary stuff holds up!

speaking of cute and spooky disney Weird Girl properties: gravity falls and halloweentown. on any show besides GF i think mabel pines would have been a total joke, but the show loves her SO MUCH and SO DO I. (it helps, i think, that a lot of her was inspired by the creator ’s real-life sister.) halloweentown gets extra points from me for not being one of those annoying Magical World stories where the protagonist gets kicked back to her boring, ordinary life with extreme prejudice in the end.

pan’s labyrinth. for the most discerning and sensitive Weird Girls, and those who also got into trouble for putting strange and occult items around the house as a child.

coraline. ESPECIALLY the book. the movie is cute and fine but has absolutely nothing on the book for spookiness and strangeness.

labyrinth. a classic, obviously.

the secret garden. give a listen to the marsha norman and lucy simon musical adaptation, too, which comes not only with all of the Weird Girl delights of the novel - “the girl i mean to be” is a Weird Girl anthem - but bonus Tragic Gothic Romance for the adult characters!

emily of new moon. i know that anne shirley is many people’s go-to LMM-written Weird Girl. these are people who have not yet met emily byrd starr.

true grit. the 2010 one. now, mattie ross is a little different to the others on this list, but this American West subspecies of Weird Girl checks out.

a series of unfortunate events. another one i do not see cited often as Weird Girl media, which is a slight on everything violet and sunny (and isadora and fiona, for that matter) have done for us.

and a few honorable mentions for Weird Girls who are slightly older than the typical and/or not main characters of their media, but nevertheless were formative and inspirational to me as a Weird Girl-Child:

christine daaé; katrina van tassel in the tim burton sleepy hollow; and luna lovegood who deserved better even before HP went radioactive.

[pidgefudge]

SO. i have listened to @gooboogy 's wonderful green album. and i wrote down my thoughts on each song. and now i am putting them here!!

"thoughts" being actually somewhat coherent comments that devolve into What Would This Be In A Video Game because this is me we're working with after all

and you reading this. yes you. go listen to it

verdant: oooough blorpy,,,, very cool i like. good beat it's quite foot tappable. also the name itself might be a new vocal stim. verdant. vvvverrrrrdant.

halls: much noises!! the instrumence in this scratch my brain in a good way. feels a bit like im 7 years old watchinf my brother play 2d mario stages and reimagining the music

agua: oooohh arpeggio action and a SICK beat. once again the Noises are lovely. big fan of all 3 so far but this one in particular methinks. however i have many more songs to go (!!)

doot doot: very fun i also like this one a lot :3 and coming to you from my one-track autistic mind: this album would be a fantastic game soundtrack

side note i know im writing less for some of these but thats bc im experiencing them in shapes and colors more than expressable words. trust me they're stirring the brain stew

going for a walk: i know the title is about a walk but im envisioning this as the soundtrack to a sort of road trip montage animation thing. specifically my road trip with family from san francisco to la. oh yes this ending is us finally getting to the hotel and me flopping onto the bed

forward: im liking the melody here a lot <33 this album is making me want to boot up lmms again and try my hand at original music,,, ive only ever attempted remixes (i tried to do aquarium park from sonic colors a few years ago and gave up but now i kinda wanna go back to it,,, i wonder if i was cooking) ok yes back to the actual song whoops this one is soo cool one of my faves so far

snag: i like these opening chords!! i dont know what you actually call them but the like. buildup parts?? you know?? those bits??? big fan OOH and a uh. build down (lol) bit too! also liking the sparkly chimey instrumence

blazen: OHHH YESSS this would be the theme for my favorite antagonist in the hypothetical game that i am apparently going to be referencing multiple times (dimentio and mr L came to mind immediately) absolutely jamming

beep boop: fuck yeah man it sure does OH SPOOKY NOTES OH OH COOL BEAT ASWELL i am in for a fun time this is. also the theme of my favorite antagonist. but the battle theme i think. oh hell yeah the orchestra hits. yes yes definitely battle theme. sorry for putting all these in a vgm context shfjdkfkssghf i just listen to a lot of it so thats how my brain parses instrumentals

hunt: strimgs :3 wohhh this is so cool. buzzy in a good way. golden brown triangles and other spiky shapes. that's kinda meaningless to anyone but me but. oh nice more Noises always love the Noises

overwhelm: theme for when i have a project due the next day and am swamped with other homework shdjdksfjdh

VERDANT!: once more with gusto!! loving the faster tempo. constellationy crystally instrument is particularly pleasing. oooughh so gooddddd

creepin': spacey!! im watching a crew set out in their little shuttle, oblivious to the horrors awaiting them on their station

envy: this is a boss fight that's emotionally heavy for the protagonists. perhaps fighting a former friend or mentor or team member

whomp whomp: quite a tricksy track!! some sort of haunted place,,,, maybe the place where the previous battle takes place. maybe it's actually a ghost (especially if the protagonist had some role in their death and feels crushing guilt) (bonus points if the ghost openly expresses resentment for the protag)

gromulous: the word ever. final boss' lair for sureee. yeah this song sure is gromulous. idk how else to describe it you hit the nail on the head

largemouth: oooh a bit silly but also cool guy. im thinking some sort of underground secret society/lab thing they have to infiltrate that's hiding a Sinister Secret (the big plot twist of the game) doesn't even have to physically be underground it could be a moon base situation. maybe i should just make this whole thing into a scifi space rpg

a way out: i can see this as the final boss music and as you get further in the fight it ramps up. i know i already assigned songs to the main antagonist but shhhhh. (or i can always pull a super paper mario in terms of antagonists)

under over: oh!! i love this one!! hometown theme. chill and familiar but still upbeat rather than sleepy. and it has a very strong nostalgia factor,,,,, in love with this song it might be my favorite. but there are still 3 more so!

float: this beginning is very cool im loving the vibe. dire dire docks but make it just after sunset and watch the ocean come alive with bioluminescent lights and fish raves. i guess it isnt a space game anymore. or maybe dream sequence beach episode?? WOAHHH OCEAN MAGICANT i might be cooking with this one Hold On. yesyesyes ok some sort of trip/dream where theyre shrunk down marinauts (whatever ocean prefix) as opposed to astronauts and exploring a cool coral reef/ocean floor area and talking to the sea life and woahhhhhh this would look gorgeous in pixel art. tbh this one could be in its own game considering how vivid the imagery is

outside: post-final-boss world returning to normal/person being rescued or uncorrupted/whatever magical thing happening. very fond of the bird chirps too <33 OH MUSIC BOX SOUNDS i also adore this one. i think the ending of this game is kinda bittersweet. we saved the world/person/whatever but At A Cost. this is sooooo pretty. would also transition well into credits

Green: and roll credits!! this would be the kind of credits theme i sway in my seat and contemplate the game to. the entire album is fantastic and these last few especially have been so lovely

[byexbyez]

If you don't mind sharing, I would love to know more about what inspired you to write love me more and formalhaut—how did the story take shape, why you wanted to portray such a relationship, your processes, etc. I haven't come across such a fic before in this fandom, and it moved me in a way that I want to devour everything I can find about it. So much love! ❤️‍🩹😮‍💨

are you planning to kill me today with these comments and asks be honest. i'm crying because i never thought i would receive such a lovely question about something i poured my heart into. i definitely don't mind sharing if you can't tell by my enthusiasm.

love me more was inspired by the same named mitski song and i kid you not, it was my no.1 in spotify last year because i looped it so much while writing. the scenes come to me in the form of daydreams and when they're so vivid, i take it too far and write a whole script in my head. the first scene of lmm was the starting point because i pictured the somber lights and the low-volume tv like a movie scene. and i thought about the level of intimacy they would share, which made me think of awkward touches. the character of the mc comes from deep corners of my heart, i feel vulnerable saying that her initial plans for the "happy ever after" she thought for herself is parallel to mine.

their dynamic spiraled into marriage of convenience somehow, i think because of the first scene which helped set the tone. and because i was on a mitski lockdown at the time, "me and my husband" was the title of the fic initially. (also the inspiration for ada and leon's relationship on the side) of course i thought leon would NOT marry someone so casually. so i focused on his character and made the decision that he would be tired and lonely. regretful of the losses.

the second scene that basically wrote itself entirely in my head was their first anniversary on the couch. why is this character (the reader) that is seemingly so distant from love is in a marriage? because she has nowhere to put down the love for her best-friend and her mother. the fleabag tv show is my favorite, can you tell...

i was listening to "no plan" by hozier and that's when the proposal scene happened in my head. "i'll be your man if you got love to get done," is a crazy line from the song. for some people it may not be so profound but for me it was show-stopping. so nonchalant yet so caring. it's like saying "hey, i'll be what you want me to be. let's not plan anything for this." this is the exact line of inspiration for their dynamic.

i basically started writing what i was daydreaming and it snowballed into 19k. one scene led to another so easily once i started writing it.

one thing i would like to note about both love me more and fomalhaut is that leon feels like there are a lot of expectations on him. mostly from the nature of his line of work. his expectations of his first relationship, expectations for his work. you get what i mean. and when reader comes into his life announcing that she would not expect anything from him, he thinks he can live with it (and proposes immediately lmao). in fomalhaut, he learns what no expectations means and it is not an easy pill for him to swallow.

to summarize, my inspiration was partly mitski and hozier, partly fleabag and i guess for the relationship dynamic, sally rooney's books.

thank you for this lovely ask 🤎