#or to play in the fandom space without the confines of canon by making it their own

[tippenfunkaport]

When I first started in fandom, for whatever reason I decided making fankids was like… too cringe for me. Like that was the arbitrary line I drew of what was too deep into fandom for me.

Anyway, think of this when I post my fankid drawings later because they represent me surrendering what is left of my dignity and fully surrendering to the cringe.

[traincat]

I’ve been trying to piece together a few things from your Twitter and Tumblr posts alike and still can’t make heads or tales of things, so would you mind helping out a FF & spideytorch noob? 1) what is currently happening with Johnny in the comics? (I’ve fallen head over heels for this guy, largely all your doing) 2) when’s the last time he and Peter have interacted, canon wise? (And do you think upcoming interactions are likely?) 3) your thoughts on if they’ll have him come out in the near future? (has that ‘biggest change to the fantastic four’ teaser come to pass yet?) Love all your content, thank you!

I'd say no problem but then I started thinking about this current run again and got a headache. But yes, I can do that to save you from reading it, because it is very largely not good.

So I don't think it's unfair to just flat out say the current Fantastic Four run is not very good, largely due to writer Dan Slott's efforts. Slott was previously on Amazing Spider-Man for 10 years, to mixed opinions, but a large portion of Spider-Man fandom, myself included, blames him near singlehandedly for the decline in quality of Spider-Man books over those ten years. I will say, in the interest of fairness, that Slott as a writer has an incredible fondness for the Spider-Man/Human Torch relationship, and that a lot of the recent teamups and interactions between them have been written or co-written by him. So it's all not all negative here. But in general, I personally find Slott's more recent comics (the last seven-ish years especially) to be badly plotted out, messily characterized disasters that feature characters written with all the emotion of a cardboard cutout. That's me putting it nicely.

To explain this fully, you have to understand the position Fantastic Four comics were in from the years 2015 through 2018, both in the fictional 616 universe and in the real publishing world. Following the 2015 Secret Wars event (great if you want some Johnny angst in the background of your plot), the Fantastic Four were disbanded -- Reed, Sue, and their many biological and found family children were presumed dead but in reality were remaking the multiverse, unable, for a reason that was never clearly defined, to reach home. Ben and Johnny were left on Earth. They had an unspecified falling out, likely due to Reed and Sue's absence, and went their separate ways -- Ben joined the Guardians of the Galaxy and went to space. Johnny was featured on both Inhumans and Avengers books. What's notable about this period is that it's the first time since 1961 that there was no Fantastic Four book being published by Marvel. Now the real world reason behind this is both complicated and extremely petty: Marvel really wanted the Fantastic Four film rights. Marvel denied this explanation at the time, stating that the reason was sales motivated, but it was a thoroughly flimsy excuse and Jonathan Hickman, writer of 2015's Secret Wars and overseer of the current X-Men plot, gave an interview saying the decision was film rights motivated. This decision kept the Fantastic Four books off the shelves for three years, up until the Disney-Fox merger, which secured the X-Men and Fantastic Four rights for Disney's Marvel Studios. Marvel then announced that the Fantastic Four book would be returning. So that's a little bit of background as to the precarious place the Fantastic Four currently occupy in the Marvel universe -- it's worth noting that this year is their 60th anniversary, and Marvel has done very little for it. Compare this to the X-Men, whose film rights Marvel also obtained during the Disney-Fox merger, and whose books are currently dominating the publishing lineup. The Fantastic Four definitely occupy an unpopular position, one Marvel themselves is at least partially responsible for forcing them into.

But to move back into the actual content of the book -- the readjustment period Slott wrote reintroducing the Fantastic Four into the Marvel universe can be described as clumsy, at best. It's never fully explained why Reed, Sue, and the kids couldn't return to Earth, something that was explored in Chip Zdarsky's 2017 Marvel Two-in-One, which featured Ben, Johnny, and Doom on a multiversal roadtrip to try and find their family and which I on the whole recommend, despite it having an awkward ending due to being cut short by Slott's announced Fantastic Four main title.

(Marvel Two-in-One 2017 #4)

Instead, the Fantastic Four return to a Marvel universe a little different than how they left it, with the Baxter Building -- formerly the offices of Parker Industries, the company Doc Ock started in Peter's body during Superior Spider-Man that Peter inherited after his defeat and then lost spectacularly when he trashed his own company to fight nazis (good for him) -- occupied by a different fantastic foursome in a plot that goes nowhere and does nothing. This is somewhat emblematic of the early days of Slott's run -- he introduces ideas that fail to go anywhere, including Johnny's rekindled relationship with his other best friend and former college roommate, Wyatt Wingfoot, who he was seen being very cuddly with in the early issues.

(FF 2018 #1) A small group of Fantastic Four fans have argued for a while that if Marvel was to have Johnny come out, a relationship with Wyatt would feel very natural -- they're already close, with Wyatt being an important Fantastic Four supporting character since the '60s. I have some further analysis here on the conspiracy theory that Johnny and Wyatt were supposed to be in relationship at the beginning of this run but that that plot was, for whatever reason, nixed. I don't know that I entirely believe this theory, for the record -- but I do think the pieces line up remarkably well.

Anyway, that didn't/hasn't yet happened, obviously. Slott instead for the most part put Johnny on the back burner for the beginning of his run, up until the Spyre arc, which I have reason to believe is the main story he pitched that he credits with securing him the Fantastic Four title. The Spyre arc suggests that the Fantastic Four's failed space exploration during which they got their powers wasn't just to beat the commies to the moon, as Lee and Kirby envisioned (simpler days), but to reach a specific planet outside of our galaxy. When the team sets out to conquer this mission, they arrive at the planet, but are quickly captured. The planet, they find out, operates like a soulmate AU -- everyone has a fated person that they are matched to via a gold armband. Reed and Sue are soulmates (and Ben is confined to an underground subterranean with the other monsters, because this is a Fantastic Four comic) while it's discovered! Shocker! That Johnny is actually the soulmate of the one the planet's inhabitants, a winged woman named Sky, with the suggestion that this is both why Johnny's previous relationships have never worked and why he loves space exploration -- he was just trying to get to his Soulmate TM.

(FF 2018 #15) "What's going on here? Where are my clothes?" As you can see, this didn't start off super great, with Johnny being separated from his family, stripped naked, and put in Sky's bed with a soulmate armband slapped on him. Did I mention they're only removable if your soulmate takes it off for you? And that Sky has consistently refused despite Johnny asking her to? Yeah. It's bad. (I think it's important to note Johnny's long history as a victim of assault plays into this narrative, whether or not Slott is personally holding that in mind while writing, which I don't believe he is. cw in the linked post for discussions of sexual assault.) There's an additional issue here in that Slott has a history of problematic writing regarding women of color, featuring characters he's created to act as love interests being oversexualized, infantilized, villainized, or some mix of all three, with two examples of this phenomena being Cindy Moon and Lian Tang, both of whom he introduced in quick succession in Amazing Spider-Man. Slott certainly didn't have to write Sky as manipulative or controlling towards Johnny, but that's what he chose to do, and that factors into the bigger picture of unfortunate themes in his writing.

Sky returns to Earth with the Fantastic Four despite Johnny appearing unenthused about the idea and initially generally reluctant to interact with her. Apparently they went on a few dates after this and kind of made up. I don't know because I stopped reading for about ten issues in there but I feel confident I missed very little. It's hard to talk about the Sky plot without referencing Johnny's previous interactions with a character named Lyja, a Skrull whose relationship to Johnny I have a long breakdown of here. It's doubly hard, because Lyja actually showed back up in Fantastic Four during this plot. Lyja's modus operandi has remained consistent throughout almost all of her appearances, which I guess makes sense, because she literally has no storylines that do not involve her being obsessed with Johnny, and this recent story isn't any different: Lyja shows up, Lyja disguises herself as another woman in Johnny's life to get close to Johnny, Lyja gets caught and claims it was all fine because she did it for love. This time she disguised herself as Sky.

(FF 2018 #32) Not gonna lie, kind of proud of him for this one. That's one of my problems with Slott -- very occasionally, he busts out good moments, only to undermine them with the rest of his narrative.

In the same issue, Alicia Masters, the first woman Lyja impersonated in order to get close to Johnny, uses her supervillain stepfather's radioactive clay to control Lyja's mind and send her back to space, and I do think she utilized girl power when she did this. Johnny, left reeling after Lyja's latest attempts to trick him into a relationship, ends this issue by sleeping with Victorious, Dr. Doom's right hand woman.

I know she pegged him. I know it. This scene was a little controversial in Johnny fandom, because a lot of people viewed it as Johnny cheating on Sky and thought that that action was out of character for Johnny. I'm personally of a little different opinion, which is that regardless of whether or not you view Johnny and Sky in a committed enough relationship that Johnny's tryst would count as infidelity when all Johnny and Sky are bound by are magic plot soulmate bracelets, I think Lyja's involvement changes things significantly when it comes to Johnny's characterization. All of Johnny's "playboy" periods, if we can call them that, coincide directly with Lyja having been in and then left his life again, which I think makes a certain amount of sense -- it's Johnny trying to wrest control back after a situation where he had none. None of this is explicitly canon, I have to note, but sometimes in comics you have to do the work yourself. So I think this is a case of something being accidentally extremely in character that Slott accidentally stumbled into because he had these love triangles in mind, not because he put a lot of thought into it.

Speaking of love triangles! Johnny sleeping with Victorious gets more complicated when Dr. Doom announces his intent to marry Victorious -- not because he has any romantic interest in her (this engagement caused a lot of uproar in Fantastic Four because Victorious had been previously referred to as being like Doom's adopted daughter) but in order to install her as Latverian regent in his absence. I'm not going to lie, I love a political wedding. Victorious, for some reason, thinks Doom will be deeply upset that she slept with some closeted blond twink and the member of the Fantastic Four he views least as an enemy and more as an annoyance. Johnny, who Sky is currently not talking to because she "felt" him sleeping with Victorious through their magic plot soulmate bracelets, also feels nervous about Doom finding out about this, which I guess is slightly more valid. Anyway, for some completely ridiculous reason, Victorious decides the best time to tell Doom about this little indiscretion is when they're standing at the altar, which coincidentally the Fantastic Four are also standing at, because Doom asked Reed to be his best man in a not at all homoerotic little setup involving midnight swordfighting and Reed slipping Doom's emerald ring onto his own finger. Sorry to sidetrack into DoomReed territory here but it's just like. It's just a lot.

(FF 2018 #33) Also, Ben walked the bride down the aisle. :,) Look at his gigantic hand.

Anyway then Doom decides he's going to kill everyone in a completely reasonable and not at all overblown reaction to Johnny and Zora having what was most likely both disappointing for Zora and weepy for Johnny sex. And that brings us up to where Fantastic Four comics left us yesterday -- in answer to your "big change" question, that's most likely coming up in the next issue, so it hasn't come to pass yet.

Having gotten all that out of the way -- the last time Johnny and Peter interacted canon-wise was in the recent Empyre Fallout Fantastic Four, at the end of the Empyre event:

It was cute! Slott does right good interactions between them. This is possibly the Stockholm Syndrome talking. I don't know if more interactions are likely imminent -- the Empyre event was fairly recent. On the other hand, Slott does like writing interactions between them. So I'd give it about a 50/50 shot. I was skimming the letter page in the latest issue and someone wrote in asking if Peter was likely to appear in the pages of Fantastic Four again any time soon, so there is definitely a demand.

As for Johnny coming out -- I don't know. It's not a call I feel comfortable making at this moment, which I guess means I wouldn't bet money on it. I'd like to say yes, especially because I think Slott set up, whether that was his intention or more likely not, several good places in his run where Johnny could have come out. The beginning, when he's implied to be living with Wyatt again and where he and Wyatt are paralleled against Ben and Alicia. Ben's bachelor party, where Johnny laments not finding the right person -- specifically person and not woman -- and where Ben tells him to "be brave, Johnny Storm." And the soulmate planet plot, where I think could have had a very different and much better ending if Johnny had told Sky that she couldn't be his romantic soulmate, because he knows he wants to be with a man. But those are just places that I think would have made good opportunities for a coming out story. Instead, Johnny's been involved (dubiously) with three different women over the space of the last 10 issues, which is more heterosexuality at one time than he's been confronted with in the last 60 years. So my thoughts are still that it's going to happen eventually, but quite possibly not anytime soon.

Hope that helps! And that my incredibly long answer about what's currently going on with Johnny in comics sheds some light on things!

[jadelotusflower]

It’s Cold in that Fridge: The Case of Nakari Kelen

Since The Case of Mara Jade has been doing the rounds again, I’ve finally gone back to this post that has been sitting in my drafts for literally years. So let’s honour this absolute badass who deserved better:

Once upon a time, the Star Wars universe was but six films (and a tv series) in the story of the Skywalker family. But beyond George Lucas’ story was an absolute boatload of books, comics, games, and other materials that made up the Expanded Universe. When Disney purchased Lucasfilm and the rights to the Star Wars saga, everything in this universe was decanonised and deemed “Legends” - some aspects of this universe were retained or re-purposed, others sit in Disney’s figurative vault and will likely never see the light of day (and seeing how the ST turned out, maybe that’s for the best).

But this transition between Legends canon and Disney canon was not so simple, because the nature of publishing meant that there were novels approved during the time of Legends canon that would be released in the time of Disney canon. In particular, there had been the planned trilogy “Empire and Rebellion”, set between A New Hope and The Empire Strikes Back, with each novel from the perspective of one of The Big Three.  

Razor’s Edge (Leia) and Honor Among Thieves (Han) were released prior to the Great Canon Split of 2014.  But while the Luke-centric novel had been planned, it was not due to be released until well after the Split. So Heir to the Jedi (so called as an homage to the Legends progenitor Heir to the Empire) became one of the first books of the Disney canon.

What does this background have to do with Nakari Kelen?  Perhaps nothing, but I do wonder how the writing process was affected by the shift from Legends to Disney - was the novel a relic of the old EU with any reference the LFL storygroup didn’t like excised during editing, or was it a trendsetter for the new EU, a Sign of Things to Come?  

The most salient point being, of course, that Nakari Kelen - like so many love interests before her - was not allowed to go along her merry way at the conclusion of the novel, but was shoved into the fridge.

If there was one constant of the Legends EU, it was that Luke Skywalker’s love interests couldn’t catch a break. Mara Jade naturally lasted the longest relationship-wise, with almost twenty years of marriage to Luke before some bright spark decided she had to go (as per the aforementioned case study). But before Mara there was Jem, Shira Brie, and Gaeriel Captison (who came close to escaping the curse), and in the Legacy of the Force series they brought back sole survivors Akanah and Callista, only to kill them off for good too (and rather brutally, if I may add).

So perhaps when Kevin Hearne began writing HttJ within the confines of the Legends continuity, he was merely sticking to the status quo, or perhaps once subsumed by Disney they needed to make sure Luke's slate was clean (so to speak).  And I can’t put all the blame on Hearne since I don’t know whether it was his idea, or LFL mandated - but regardless it was a poor decision.

The root cause of fridging, imo, is limited imagination.  How best to cause your male protagonist pain if not kill off someone they love, or at least have strong feelings for? The answer is of course, easily. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

The Luke Skywalker of HttJ is fresh from his victory in ANH, a lieutenant in the Rebellion: young, not dumb, and full of...

Nakari Kalen is an absolute Queen a civilian volunteer and crack-shot sniper who loans her ship Desert Jewel to the Alliance. Luke is immediately attracted to her, they bond over a mutual love of fast ships and leaving behind desert home planets, and engage in the inexpert flirting of two nineteen year olds while also risking their lives several times over.

I want to make it clear: I actually really like this book. It's a breezy read, almost serialised as The Early Adventures of Luke Skywalker, and is ofttimes genuinely funny. And credit where it’s due to Hearne, many of of the supporting roles in the novel are female. Other than Nakari, there's Soonta, the Rodian who gives Luke her uncle’s lightsaber, Sakhet the Kupohan spy, and the Givin cryptographer/math genius Drusil Bephorin. In a genre where male characters are often the default for these kind of roles, it was nice to see, but makes the regressive fridging of Nakari even more egregious.

Luke and Nakari make a good team fighting brain-sucking monsters and Imperials, but more importantly they have fun together - she encourages him to work on his Force skills, and he successfully moves objects with his mind for the first time (leading to Nakari adorably dub him "a little noddle scooter"). It's a very sweet, if brief, relationship, and a respite from the danger of the mission. They spend the night together (leaving the reader to decide exactly what happened behind closed doors), and share a kiss before splitting up to try and escape bounty hunters. No prizes for guessing what happens to Nakari immediately after she received the Skywalker Kiss of Death.

I assume there were two motivating factors for why Hearne and/or LFL couldn't let Nakari live:

1. If she survived, fans would wonder why she doesn't appear in ESB/subsequent material.

I recall this bandied about on forums back at the time of the book's release, and to that I say - so what? Fans are always going to wonder, and try to paper over the gaps in canon, to make up their own headcanons to explain any any perceived inconsistencies. It's certainly no reason to kill someone off.

It is in fact possible for two young people to have a romance that just fizzles, or doesn’t work out for whatever reason - it should not require great maneuvering or explanation. If Nakari doesn’t show up in the next book in the timeline, what about it? The reader is smart enough to assume she and Luke broke up, decided to just remain friends, whatever. But it seems that the only way for a female character to exit stage left is for her to die, which is bullshit.

And actually, there's no reason why she couldn't have shown up again. ESB and RoTJ cover a month and a few days, respectively, of Luke's life - just because there was no mention of Nakari doesn't mean she didn't exist at that time, whether or not she and Luke were an item. She could have made an appearance in a subsequent novel, or Rebels, or the comics - she could have become a recurring character, showing up when the Rebellion needed her, or - heaven forbid - even have her own comic/book/show! Her existence in Star Wars canon didn't need to begin and end with Luke Skywalker, merely to service his plotline and backstory and abandoning the richness of her own.

No, the only reason Nakari had to die was to facilitate this:

It was a blow to the gut, realizing what that sudden absence meant. I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, but I had felt Nakari's life snuffed out through the Force, and into that void where she had shone anger rushed in - anger, and a cold sense of raw power and invincibility...I took a step to join in the hunt but stopped, breathing heavily, unaccountably sweating even though I felt so cold inside and the power of the Force roiled within me... I shook with emotion and power, and none of it felt the way the Force had before...I saw what kind of space it was , a black hole that would always be hungry no matter how much I fed it. I might never feel warm again if I didn't get myself under control.

Luke feels the dark side and is tempted by the boost of power it offers him, but immediately identifies it as dangerous and unnatural. I can understand why Hearne wanted to include this - it is a book of firsts after all: Luke's first solo mission, his first time using telekenisis, and ending with story with his first experience of the dark side makes sense. But it wasn't necessary, which leads to:

2. How to push Luke to touch the dark side without killing someone he has romantic feelings for?

Also, obviously, shite of the bull (or nerf, if you prefer). Even if this brush with the dark side was absolutely necessary for the novel's climax, there's any number of ways it could be achieved. At this point, Luke is fresh from losing important people in his life - Owen and Beru, Ben, and Biggs - lumping another death on top of that a narrative trick for Luke to react not only to losing Nakari, but the others as well. But it's cheap, the first card in the deck, and why not show a bit of imagination? Luke is young and inexperienced enough at this point that any number of things could be the catalyst - the whole book he's struggling with his growing powers, why not try and reach too far in the firefight with the bounty hunters, his anger and frustration with himself in not doing enough trigger the dark side temptation? It would work thematically and doesn't involve a fridging that ultimately has very little payoff.

Because Nakari is killed less than ten pages from the end of the book - afterwards Luke grieves, but ultimately chooses to honour her memory and be grateful for what he learned with her, recommitting to becoming a Jedi. It's all very surface level, and once again a female character's death facilitates a male character's development. Was it so imperative that Luke lost someone he cared about as part of this story? Sure, this was a time of galactic civil war, and it's far from unrealistic that these stories have a high body count, but who to make collateral damage remains an authorial choice, and in this case Nakari Kelen was (a) a female character of color, (b) a love interest of the protagonist - not just of this book, but the entire Original Trilogy.

I don't know to what extent (if any) race had to play in the decision. I'm sure there was a segment of the fandom absolutely livid that Luke Skywalker kissed (and maybe had sex with) a black woman. Was her death LFL hedging its bets, or demonstrative of the general lack of attention/respect they show their characters of colour?

In any case this was a chance to stand out from the old EU and it's fridge full of Luke's dead girlfriends, but instead they chose to introduce and kill off Nakari for the sole purpose of Luke's manpain and character development, and that's gross.

And then there's this:

A grisly yet reliable fact about custom bounty hunter ships is that you can always count on them to have body bags stashed somewhere for the easy transport of their kills. They often have built-in refrigerated storage, too.

NAKARI IS KILLED AND LITERALLY STORED IN THE FUCKING FRIDGE I COULDN'T BELIEVE WHAT I WAS READING.

I really hope this was unintentional on Hearne's part, because yikes. He was halfway there, this book was full of interesting female characters who had agency - Drusil in particular was a delight with her super math and inability to understand human interaction. Nakari was full of life and fun - capable but relatable, showing a different side of the Rebellion and those that suffered under the Empire's rule. Fridging her in her first appearance is considerably more vile, because it reduces her to a footnote of Luke's story, a plot device to Help Him Grow, rather than a springboard to tell more of her own story.

Because Nakari was a compelling character ripe for spinoff potential. I would absolutely have read or watched her continued adventures, juggling missions for her father's Biolabs company and trying to aid the Rebellion, shooting her slug rifle and cracking wise, maybe even finding a way to amplify her mother's song Vader's Many Prosthetic Parts to really stick it to the Empire, or try and free the political prisoners on Kessel.

The old EU was made great by allies and enemies of Our Heroes showing up again to help or hinder them, and/or branching out into their own material. We fell in love with them, and followed their stories even as they diverged from the main saga, eager to read more about their lives.

Nakari Kelen never got that chance. In many ways, she exemplified what Disney Star Wars was to become: an exercise in wasted potential.

[potteresque-ire]

More ask answer about Word of Honour (山河令, WoH) and the so-called “Dangai 101 phenomenon” under the cut ~ with all the M/M relationships shown on screen, does it mean improved acceptance / safety for the c-queer community?

Due to its length (sorry!), I’ve divided the answer into 3 parts: 1) Background 2) Excerpts from the op-eds 3) Thoughts This post is PART 2 💛. As usual, please consider the opinions expressed as your local friendly fandomer sharing what they’ve learned, and should, in no ways, be viewed as necessarily true. :)

(TW: homophobic, hateful speech quoted)

The following are three opinion pieces published by state-controlled media re: Dangai and WoH:

O1) Published on 2021/03/04, in Shanghai Observer 上觀新聞

8.6分爆款武俠劇《山河令》背后，是90后愛看的江湖 Behind the 8.6-score Wuxia drama WoH is the Jianghu loved by those born after 1990

[Pie note: the 8.6 score refers to the score WoH got from the popular TV and film review site, Douban]

O2) Published on 2021/03/16, in China Comment 半月談:

國產電視劇掀起「耽改」熱：「腐文化」出圈，青少年入坑 The Rise of Dangai in C-dramas: “Rot Culture” exits Circle, Youth fell into the Ditch

and its related editorial:

「耽改劇」 盛行？警惕對「腐文化」進行無底線炒作和過度消費 Dangai Dramas Prevailing? Be alert to the Uncurbed Hyping and Excessive Consumption of “Rot Culture”

[Pie Note: “Exiting the Circle” (出圈) and “Falling into the Ditch” (入坑) are both fandom vocabularies. “Exiting the circle” refers to something being so famous that it is no longer contained within fandom (the circle) and instead, breaks into public consciousness, mainstream. “Falling into a Ditch” means to fall for a fandom so hard that one cannot crawl their way out it. For example, c-turtles commonly refers to their joining the YiZhan fandoms as ditch falling, followed by being “hammered to the bottom of the ditch” by Gg and Dd’s candies.

“Rot” 腐 refers to the same rot as in fujoshi 腐女 and “rot selling” 賣腐 described in PART 1.]

O3) Published on 2021/04/07, in 光明日報 Enlightenment Daily

耽美作品改编盛行带偏大众审美 Popularity of Dangai Dramas leads the Public’s Aesthetic Astray

To summarise first,

* Article O1 was very light on the characterisation of Danmei—the terms Danmei and Dangai never even appeared in the article. It focused, instead, on WoH’s Wuxia elements, including the beauty of its presentation—much like People Daily’s review of TU focused on the drama’s aesthetics, including its world view. The relationship between Zhou Zishu and Wen Kexing was never mentioned, not even garnering a description such as 摯友 (“close friend”) as LWJ and WWX did. The article did point out that the drama was catering to a women audience.

* Article O2a (the opinion piece) and O2b (the editorial) are about Danmei and Dangai, collectively as the subculture they named “Rot Culture” (腐文化). No drama names are mentioned (in reading Chinese news, it’s important to note whether the critiqued target is named or not; the former (點名批評) is considered significantly harsher). The article, as hinted by the word “rot” in its title, leaned heavily towards characterising Danmei and Dangai by the traditional BL characterisation. Article O2a was also the only article out of the four that explicitly addressed  homosexuality. Rather than addressing the queer elements in Danmei/Dangai as queer, however, the article argued the genres could turn their young audience queer.

* Article O3 is also about Danmei and Dangai as the “Rot Culture” subculture, without the naming of any dramas. This article is notable for its association of the genres and the state’s concern with the “feminisation” of Chinese men.

Based on these op-eds, the state is characterising Danmei and Dangai predominantly as characterisation 2 — traditional BL, women’s fantasy. They recognised the psychological need behind the popularity of the genres among their (het) women audience, and the tone, is overall, of understanding and approval:

One of the cores of Dangai is the pursuit of “beauty”. The “double male leads” in Dangai dramas score sufficiently high beauty points to become the party to be defined, to be gazed, to be consumed. It is a counterattack to the male gaze. In addition, such “double male leads” enjoying equal relationship, admiring each other and fighting together shoulder-to-shoulder, also reflects the ideals of women towards relationships.

In the visual world of Dangai, two beautiful men respecting and treasuring each other, progressing together shoulder-to-shoulder, not only fits with women’s ideal model of  relationships, but also also create wide, yet-to-be filled emotional spaces for women’s unstoppable imagination to flex. Such relationships have less considerations of reality and self-interest, and thus appear to be more pure.

However, these opinion pieces have also made clear that the state saw the queer elements surrounding the genre, and its opinion of them is much more … reserved, especially when they cross the fiction / reality line and become the focus of the promotion of the dramas via the actors, who straddle that fiction / reality line.

Due to the lengths of these articles, I’m only translating the notable “chunks” in each of them—the “chunks” that connect the genres with queerness. I’m deliberately keeping these passages as “chunks”—ie, without removing sentences in the middle—to highlight the state’s logic in making the connection.

From O2a: 國產電視劇掀起「耽改」熱：「腐文化」出圈，青少年入坑 The Rise of Dangai in C-dramas: “Rot Culture” exits Circle, Youth fell into the Ditch

“M/M CP”, “Beautiful Men Economy”, topics surrounding this market—today, nobody bets an eye anymore at “selling the rot” being the industrial phenomenon. “Sell the rot” is to sell “rot culture”, with “rot culture” being the subculture for the audience’s imagination, of M/M (ambiguous) love stories for major content.

Such subculture, if confined within its fandoms, may be harmless. However, if it is to be adapted into TV dramas in significant scale, if it is to break through the subculture circles and enter the realm of general public entertainment, then one must take caution of its bad influence, especially to inexperienced youths.

With the established review system for web and TV dramas, production teams often remove the “romantic plot line” between the two male leads in the original Danmei canon and display “brotherhood love” in the TV drama, while “playing edge ball” to provide their audience with room for imagination. In the subsequent promotion and marketing, however, the two male actors may have to “sell the rot” as well.

[Pie note: I’m translating 打擦边球 literally as “playing edge ball” as this is a very commonly used term in discussions of China’s censorship. It means to step as close to the forbidden line as possible without crossing it, to take advantage of loopholes.]

Author of the article “On the Danmei-ization of Chinese Dramas” believes that, in recent years, CPs “selling the rot” , the practice of which is rooted in Danmei culture, have become a hit in the Chinese TV industry. TV dramas with Danmei elements entice their audience to create CPs around the leads of the dramas; they make use of the fervour generated by the discussion topic to achieve high viewership.

In recent years, academics have already expressed concern and investigated the influence of Danmei culture on the youth’s gender awareness, their opinions of marriage etc. For example, the article “Sexual Orientation of Some Youths in Hunan Province and Analysis of their Potential Causes” investigated the sexual orientation of 1,260 youths in the province and discovered that: among males, 2.9% self-identified as homosexuals, 4.9% bi-sexuals, 12.4% unknown; among females, 2.4%, 12.4%, 14.3% respectively. 37.5% of the people knew about Danmei or Doujin (同人; fandom), among which 32.3% indicated they “liked” it. 11.9% indicated that they longed for the homosexual romance in such works.

The author of the article analysed that, students who knew about Danmei or Doujin were more likely to report bisexuality or unknown sexual orientation. This demonstrated the influence of such culture on the sexual orientation of youths.

( Cartoon from O2a, titled “Learning to be “cool” 學酷 )

From O2b:「耽改劇」 盛行？警惕對「腐文化」進行無底線炒作和過度消 Dangai Dramas Prevailing? Be alert to the Uncurbed Hyping and Excessive Consumption of “Rot Culture”

Not to be overlooked is this: the severe reality of “Rot culture” exiting the circle and becoming immensely popular is urgently awaiting the entire society’s alert and attention. Objectively speaking, many Dangai works are not aspiring to positively, proactively guide and display Danmei culture, but only to set up attention-grabbing gimmicks, the purpose of which is solely to “sell the rot”. Not a small number of Dangai’s plots are illogical. Worse, in order to attract attention and satisfy the “taste” of fans, some production companies are forcibly selling “M/M CPs”,  conducting “bound” promotion [Pie note: as in bound by CP pairing] and embarrassing interactions [Pie note: as in, getting the actors to interact in a suggestively romantic way] , “playing the edge ball” [Pie note: as explained above] to generate personalities, consuming “Rot Culture” without a bottom line. These poor marketing tactics not only hurt the interest of Danmei audience, but interfere with the online environment and its order. The indulgence of radical language, moreover, challenges and affects mainstream values. These bad influences must be paid attention to and supervised.

From O3) 耽美作品改编盛行带偏大众审美 Popularity of Dangai Dramas leads the Public’s Aesthetic Astray

In addition to the explosion of the number of Dangai dramas, many dramas that are not originally Dangai are attaching themselves to the Dangai genre, by setting up double male leads, by playing up the suggestive atmosphere between male characters in their plot lay out. Some variety shows make use of the plot setup, the post-editing, the promotion of topics etc, to forcibly pair up their male guests for the purpose of hype and attention. This vulgar custom of “playing edge ball” as a means to tempt, to lead the audience into indulging in fantasies [Pie note: sexual fantasies implied by the idiom 想入非非] have spread from visual media production to the areas of promotion and marketing. Some interviews, magazine photoshots, short video production have also joined the bandwagon of borrowing the popularity of Danmei culture. They use all sorts of sensitive topics to tease and excite the public, tirelessly, happily guiding the fans to overanalyse Dangai dramas and even, the relationship between the actors of Dangai dramas. With the push of such gimmicks, Danmei is reaching the public through multiple channels, gathering popularity and turning into a phenomenon.

From O3) 耽美作品改编盛行带偏大众审美 Popularity of Dangai Dramas leads the Public’s Aesthetic Astray

Men with delicate looks, with traditionally feminine (soft and reserved) quality, are often sought after by the rot women (fujoshis). There has been a recent, popular saying in the industry: to find out if a male star is popular or not, find out if there are fans calling him “wife”. Artists with a tough image often do not make it big, but explode in popularity once they switch to a soft beauty style. Netizens have teased “Ten years as a tough man known by none; one day as a beauty known by all”. This take on aesthetics is influencing visual media creation and entertainment production to a certain extent. Watching from a distance, more and more traffic-generating stars look like “cream young men” [Pie note: 奶油小生, from 奶油 “cream” + 小生, “the role of young men in traditional Chinese opera”, is an old-fashioned term traditionally used to describe young, good-looking actors who often presented as pale, mild-mannered, scholarly]. Some entertainment venture capital picks “flower men” as their choice for leads regardless of the TV dramas/films’ subject matter, follows the young (male) idol path. Commercial products and ads extend their offers to “little fresh meat” [Pie note: 小鲜肉 is the nickname for young (male) idols]. Even cosmetics, which have conventionally been thought of as women-only products, are no longer asking only women stars to be their spokespeople. Feminine beauty can exist, but all things shouldn’t be taken to the extreme. As “flower men” overflow on screen, masculine, tough men are reducing in numbers. This may counter the basic rules of art creation, and disrupt the development of diverse social aesthetics.

Any product produced by the mind, in the process of production, is also producing minds that will accept it, consume it. Audience of Dangai include not only adults, but also not-too-mature youths who pursue “Rot Culture” as a fashionable trend. In particular, as the aesthetics of men in the eyes of young women turn even more feminine, such change can indirectly influence the cognition of young men, cause the young men to subconsciously shift their own gender expression closer to the feminine beauty anticipated by women. Most Dangai stories are far removed from reality; some young audience nonetheless mix them up with real life, develop biased understanding such as “only love that doesn’t treat matrimony and reproduction as destinations is true love”. Although Daigai is often made “Danmei-less”, in that the romantic relationship between the two male leads are re-written as brothers and zhiji (confidants), the canon and the Rot Culture behind it still hides large amounts of pornographic, violent content, including biased, unhealthy perspectives on gender, and un-scientific, even wrong biological knowledge. If such content isn’t given restrictions, it will seriously mislead the values and self-fulfilment of the young.

PART 1 PART 2 <-- YOU ARE HERE PART 3

[lilydalexf]

Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with Rae

Rae has 16 stories at Gossamer. If you like MSR, you should go check them out, including (but not limited to) the fun-titled, banter-filled The Cat, an Espresso and a Bag of Sunflower Seeds. Big thanks to Rae for doing this interview.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?

It surprises me that anyone reads my fanfic at all, let alone they are reading it 20 years after I wrote it!

But in the same vein, I am still actively reading xfiles fanfic and I tend to read the older fics, or new fics by authors I recognize or remember from back in the day. I cannot explain this lack of rationale. 🤷

What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it?

I had a great experience with the X-Files fandom! I made some fantastic friends - many even attended my wedding! I didn't really get involved in the dramas that went on. I was aware of it, but really, I just wanted to discuss my show with people that loved it like I did and read the fic, so I ignored all the other static.

Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)?

Mainly message boards. AOL chat rooms, Yahoo groups, etc. We would all sign on after the episode aired and chat about it. Deconstruct it. And then we started traveling to meet each other and the real fun began!

What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general?

It was definitely a growing experience. It forced me to step outside my comfort zone a little bit. Traveling to NYC, LA and Chicago to meet people just to fangirl with. Meeting Gillian and getting a picture with her - it was wild.

Different shared experiences that "real life" family and friends just didn't understand. It was fun and exciting.

What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show?

So I came to the show late in the game. I was sick, lying in bed channel surfing and caught the last 5 minutes of Fight the Future and immediately wanted to know why this woman was sitting in the snow holding onto this man. I spent the summer recording episodes on FX during the week and watching them all weekend and was somehow able to pretty much catch up on the first 6 seasons in time for the 7th season premiere.

What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

In my quest to know all the things that summer before the 7th season, I discovered AOL chat rooms that led me to different discussions on the show in general and at one point, a link was posted to whatever fanfic was hot that minute and I was instantly hooked.

What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom?

I often feel like a wallflower at a party. I'm on the fringe, looking in to see what's going on. I don't bother anyone and most people don't even know I'm there. Every now and then I'll send feedback on a story, or I might even participate in a random discussion, but I feel it's a little more difficult these days without the chatrooms and discussion boards. Following people on tumblr or twitter and trying to engage in those platforms is more awkward since it feels so much more personal. It's like I'm intruding on someone's personal space.  Or having to scroll through non-fandom stuff to find the fic. The message boards were a more even playing field I guess? It's hard to explain.

When I'm hardcore searching for something...anything to read, I'll refer to "The Classics" list. There are still many on there I haven't read.

I miss ephemeral.

Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?

No. No other characters have ever interested me beyond the story we're given within the confines of the show/movie/book like Mulder and Scully did. My friends would dive into Harry Potter or Marvel or (fill in the blank with anything) and I would try to get excited, but there's nothing.

Who are some of your favorite fictional characters? Why?

Well, Scully because she's so bad-ass. She's always so certain of her convictions. We don't see her second-guess herself often.

Anne of Green Gables because against all odds, she still sees the beauty in everything.

Jo in Little Women because she is just so tenacious. She knows what she wants.

Hermione in Harry Potter. She knows the most important thing she'll do is help Harry and there is value in that, so she gives it all she's got.

Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully?

I do. A couple of years after the original run was over, I lost a dear friend (met because of XF) and then later I had my first baby and life just got busy in a very different way so I fell out of the fandom and just dropped all of it.

And then there was the revival. I waited until all episodes aired and then binge-watched them. And I did the same with season 11, but waited about 6 mos after it aired to watch it, rewatching the whole series from the beginning, first.

But now I turn it on a few times a week while I'm folding laundry or making dinner or some other chore. It's nice to have it on in the background because I don't have to pay close attention because I know what's going to happen. I've actually watched the whole series a few times this way.

Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom?

I still read XF fic. It's still my favorite thing to read. I am always looking for the next great fic to lose myself in. Back in the day, I would read any pairing, any genre...I was game for anything, as long as it was XF fic. I'm a little more choosy, now, but only because my free-time is more limited. I only want to read MSR and I'm not at all interested in revival fics.

Do you have any favorite X-Files fanfic stories or authors?

I am partial to the novel-length AU and canon-divergent stories.  I love everything by Prufrock's Love and Bonetree. I have read Paracelsus, A Moment in the Sun and the Goshen/Secret World series countless times. Journal 1999 and Journal 2000 by MD1016, The Mastodon Diaries by akaJake, Blinded by White Light by Dashak, Deliverance From Evil by Char Chaffin and Tess.

I could go on all day.

My absolute favorite story is Arizona Highways by Fialka.

I am partial to Scully angst. And the Emily storyline just kills me, so when authors take those elements and write a kick-ass story, I am there for it.

What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?

How awful is it that I had to look up my fics to answer this question? I don't know that I have a favorite. That's like asking a mother which child she favors. Maybe One of the Damned.

Do you think you'll ever write another X-Files story? Or dust off and post an oldie that for whatever reason never made it online?

I won't say never, but I don't think so. I've tried to start one or two with some ideas I've had, but I haven't gotten far with them.

Do you still write fic now? Or other creative work?

No. I don't even have time to read as often as I would like to.

Where do you get ideas for stories?

Usually what if scenarios - I try to work out different ways the story could go in my head. I would usually have the guts of the story written in my head before I typed the first word.

What's the story behind your pen name?

There was already a well-known Rachel posting fic when I got started, so I just decided to go with a nickname - Rae.

Do your friends and family know about your fic and, if so, what have been their reactions?

My husband is crazy supportive and tries to convince me to write again All. The. Time. I never hid my XF obsession from anyone, but I don't think I told many people about my writing.

Is there a place online (tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now?

I am on tumblr and twitter, but like I said above, I don't really post. All of my stories are at Gossamer.

(Posted by Lilydale on February 9, 2021)

[suca-loca]

it’s been a long year since we last spoke (how’s your halo?)

Read on Ao3

Words: 11.5k 

Tags: Hurt No comfort, Angst, No Happy Ending, No beta we die like Wilbur

Warnings: Body horror, Blood, Death, Suicidal Implications/Thoughts, Mentions Of Torture, Beating/Fighting

Author's Note: I tentatively present you all this fic as my ticket to board the Dream SMP Fandom. I took some creative liberties with this, such as hints of Niki and Wilbur being childhood friends, as well as Niki living near Techno's cabin, and making Niki respawning to restock her hunger bar during her spiraling/villain arc one of her canon deaths. Also, despite Niki wearing a new skin she has stated that her character still wears Wilbur's coat. Just adding that in here so people don't comment that I got her outfit wrong during a certain scene. And finally, even though I feel this is obvious, this is about the characters and not the streamers themselves. With that out of the way, enjoy the fic!

Summary: 

"Time down here is like stars, Niki. We're dead, dead for thousands of years, but to them," he points up, "we still shine. It'll take light years for them to realize they are staring at just a memory."

She tries to take a step back, but she's rooted where she stands. "Wilbur," she weeps. "How long have you been down here?"

He laughs.

(There was a time it made Niki's heart stop. It still does, but for different reasons now)

"Eleven years."

Niki covers her mouth to stifle a broken cry.

or; Niki tries, unwillingly may she add, the whole being dead thing. Oh, and Wilbur is there to "help"

The worst part about it is that Niki's whole life doesn't flash before her eyes. It doesn't happen in slow motion and neither is there some comforting, bright light for her to walk towards. It's simply this: one second she's at Church Prime and the next she's falling into pitch blackness.

Then again, she should have known better than to expect any of that dumb cliche stuff 'cause it's not like she died or anything. Not really. Her communicator may say she did, but she knows the truth. She was teleported.

So why does this feel like dying?

foolish girl breaking at the seams from using the same stitching of a burning flag to put yourself back together again. you think the afterlife cares how you arrive? the entry fee is the same for all

She comes in screaming and doesn't stop even when that's all she is anymore. Her body is unrecognizable to her, turned inside out, muscles stretching and bending and snapping in an attempt to mimic the shape she once was.

(She wishes her muscles luck in regressing back into a memory because oh primes, oh dear primes did she try, try again to be the girl wore a white and blue uniform with pride, but that girl only exists now in dreams and sometimes nightmares)

But they can't, for her organs and bones and flesh do not know what it means to not be confined (but they should know, they really should, because she still finds it hard to breath in small spaces ever since Schlatt caged her between iron bars and dirt and Sapnap left her in a hole in the ground over a fish) and so they shake. Convulsing and spasming until she is just sound, just an echo of shrieks that are happening in the past or the present or the future depending on how fast it travels down this tight, narrowed cave she lands in.

Wait, lands in?

She finds herself laying flat on the ground. She blinks. Then does it again for good measure to make sure she's not imaging having eyelids.

She touches her face. Feels the crook of her nose, the curve of her chin, and her soft round ears.

It's all skin. No muscle, no tissue, just her.

Still her.

(For now)

Her body is back. Not whole though - never whole - for she will always be a walking empty space within a solid object, but for now, her body is right. Her body is here. She closes her eyes in relief.

Someone is staring down at her when she opens them again.

"Hello Niki," Wilbur says. "It's been a while."

(It's Doomsday. His name shows up on your communicator and so you become a lit match. The fire eats you away just like the bark of a tree, like the walls of a bakery, two things you once loved most, and you're watching them both burn with his coat over your shoulders, which doesn't help you ignore who you must look like, who you're acting like, whose footsteps you're following in; and doesn't it hurt to know that what's before you isn't just a friend but a reflection?)

She's already scrambling back before she's even fully sat up.

She doesn't get very far, not with the way her wrists twist and bend before finally buckling under the pressure, and she can't find the strength to stand up and run. So all that's left to do is hyperventilate at the way his eyes land on her face, roaming, analyzing, absorbing, trying to read her like a book, unaware she's ripped out the pages long ago. At the way his shadow covers her and maybe once it felt like a blanket, but that time has passed, now all it is is heavy, suffocating, pinning her down. At the way he wears his Pogtopia outfit, pressed and cleaned when the last she saw of it it was covered in ash and black feathers and red, so much red.

But it never comes. In fact, her lungs don't move at all. Almost as if she doesn't need to breathe. As if she hasn't been breathing since she's been down here.

Is that why it was so easy to keep screaming?

"You're not here," she whispers. "Not really."

Wilbur tilts his head to the left.

(Does it in a way a predator would while observing its prey from afar, waiting for the right moment to strike)

"Oh? Where am I then, Niki?"

"My head," Niki responds, practically blurting it out. "Yeah - yeah, that's right. This is just my head playing tricks on me again. A horrible horrible trick, but that's all it is. I - I know it."

Wilbur hums. He sits down as if this will take a while. As if she won't blink and he'll be gone. "Well, that's a damn shame. I was hoping it'd be a beach. Mexican Dream has been talking a lot about La Jolla lately. Sounds like a nice place."

He smiles, suddenly.

(No, not smiles, more like baring his teeth. His very normal teeth that give off the impression that they should be very sharp and very large and very deep in her throat right now)

"Let's hope I don't blow it up."

(Niki is shouting for Wilbur over the chaos when her communicator pings in her pocket. It gets hard to breathe as she reads what it says, and it isn't because every inhale of smoke and pulverized concrete from the tumbling buildings poison her lungs. There's a ringing in her ears, and it isn't because of the TNT that just detonated in front of her. She feels broken, and it isn't because the force of the explosion knocks her back and she skitters across the field, hitting rocks and choking on dirt until she stops on her stomach, limbs bent at weird angles. Her communicator lands right beside her, the screen shattered and static flashing, but she can still catch glimpses of what is on the screen, as clear as day, like a taunt: WilburSoot was slain by Ph1lza)

Niki scrambles to her feet, presses herself as much as she can against the walls, and maybe, just maybe, she'll glitch and go through it and suffocate in a block.

She immediately throws herself away from it when she realizes what she just thought.

Wilbur stands with her. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding," he says. "I thought it would lighten up the mood. So, how are you?"

"How am I?" Niki echoes. "I'm imagining my dead best friend even though I thought I was getting better and I could have sworn I was, I was I swear I was, and this place, this place, I don't know where this is but it, it just feels - I don't even know why - so familiar and so - "

She pauses.

She looks around.

She was so busy panicking from Wilbur's presence that she never took in her surroundings. She stares at the smooth stone walls, the occasional hanging vines, the little aquarium in the corner right next to the entrance, and, finally, the stand. The stand with two signs on the front that read -

No. It can't be. It just can't.

She won't believe it until she's seen the whole thing.

She walks further in, each step hesitant.

And she notices the way everything around her seems so devoid of life. Almost colorless. Close to numb. She thinks it's her body shutting down, the stress finally getting to her, but no. This is worse. Something's going on. She doesn't know what it is exactly, but she knows it isn't her that's wrong here.

(This time)

Wilbur follows closely behind and, as if to prove her point, his footsteps sound muffled, distant, apart from him, like in the way you hear something underwater.

Maybe she is underwater because everything is getting blurry and her face feels wet.

(Or maybe the better comparison is like hearing something behind glass. She's been tapping against the window of a caravan for months as men in suits discuss a country she bled for just as much as them, if not more, without her. The tapping turns to banging, but it is not the glass that shatters. Not the glass that breaks)

She stills as she catches sight of the small wheat farm in the back room, dried and frail and unkempt.

(Like a flower shop)

It really is her bakery.

"No," she mumbles. Then, more stern, as if it'll blow this place away, as Wilbur should have done the first time. "No no no no this can't… this can't be true. I, I shouldn't be here I - it doesn't make any sense, how how how - "

She whirls on Wilbur, the tears coming in waves now. "What are you doing to me?"

(It's his fault she's back here. It has to be, he's the reason you wanted to burn the memories why this is all gone why this should be gone why isn't this gone gone gone gone)

foolish girl who has become like the nation she despises, you are a crater, there is a hole inside of you where a soul once was and it was caused by your own hands because the only destruction you're good at is your own. you couldn't even kill a child with a nuke, so what makes you think you can end a small room on the side of some hill?

"What do you see?" Wilbur says, and the voice in her head disappears. She can't remember what it said. She shakes her head as if the words will fall out her ears.

Suddenly she can't remember why she's shaking her head.

Her next words come out frail.

"My… my bakery. But how? This shouldn't be possible I, I destroyed it - I - "

"Limbo is different for everybody," Wilbur interjects. "For me, it's a train station."

"Limbo? What are you talking about? What is going on? I was nowhere near L'manburg I was - " Niki's mind blanks.

(Smooth quartz all around her and she feels safe there, that she remembers because there is no killing here, the one place bloodshed does not haunt her, and then crushing disappointment that turns into actual crushing as her body gets shredded, mangled, undone like a ribbon except it does not look pretty)

Wilbur gives her a slicing smile. It cuts her down. "This is the afterlife, Niki."

She blinks. She tries to take a step back, but she's rooted to the spot. "What?"

"The afterlife," he continues, eyes sparkling. "Hell. The void. Eternal darkness. Whatever you wanna call it. I call it home."

"Home?" She repeats, shakily.

foolish girl with no place, no one to call home because she's an expert at finding comfort in things that don't stay, of course he sees this place as home. Although if he really wanted to surround himself in emptiness so bad then he just needed to wait a few months for you to become just that

"I'm not dead," she mutters. She attempts to laugh, because if she laughs then this will sound like a joke. Wilbur would joke about such a thing. After all, he poked fun at exploding L'manburg just a while ago. So of course this is a joke. It has to be. It is, and she will not allow her breakdown to be the punchline.

At Wilbur's unflinching smile she says it again, with more conviction. "I'm not!"

"How else do you think you're talking to me? How your bakery is still in one piece? Sorry to be your grim reaper Niki, but you're dead. And now you're here, in the afterlife, with me!" He leans in close, close enough that she should feel his breath on her.

There is nothing. He is nothing.

(And maybe, so is she)

"Isn't that great? We're together again! You and me, just like the old days. And look," His eyes glance at what she wears. It's the coat. Specifically, Wilbur's coat, wrapped around her shoulders.

"We're even matching," he coos.

She thinks she might scream.

She throws herself away from him, almost throws the coat too, but into the furnace next to her.

('I gotta burn the memories I need to destroy it I need to destroy it I need to destroy it,' she once screamed to no one but herself. History repeats itself)

How she ever found comfort in this ratty, old coat she'll never know. And she'll never care to find out. Not when Wilbur is acting like this, like before, like a loose city wire, all dangerous and unpredictable, each word an electric spark, and Niki is trying not to get stung. She remembers how that story ended.

But her's will not end. Not yet.

"I can't be dead," she argues. "I don't remember that I would remember something like that so I - I can't be dead, and I have two lives left so, no, no I can't be I'm alive I'm alive I'm alive and I'm in bed I'm alive I'm alive I'm alive and you're not real, just a nightmare. I'm alive I'm alive I'm - "

"It's really me, Niki," Wilbur says, and the fire from the furnace roars in response as if his words fan the flames. It's the first time something in this wicked place has felt alive. "In the flesh. Or, rather, a close imitation of it. I think my corpse must have liquified by now, swelling up for months before bursting open, leaving nothing but a skeleton behind. What about you? What did you leave for them to find?"

She covers her ears. "Stop! Stop it stop it stop it!"

"Remember it. Remember your last moments."

"Wilbur, please - "

"Feel your wrist," he says. No, orders. And she does. Because she, at her core, is still his soldier.

(She says that she is loyal to him and he responds by saying he wants her to be loyal to L'manburg. She remembers being confused, for she saw them both as the same. Wilbur is L'manburg and L'manburg is Wilbur, one cannot coexist without the other. A few months later, amongst the wreckage of her nation and a father's anguished screams, she'll realize too little too late how true her statement holds)

She doesn't find her heartbeat.

For a second she thinks she made a mistake. That she has her fingers in the wrong place, but no. A soldier knows where to look for life so that they may snuff it out. She can't be making a mistake.

Still, she presses her fingers down, harder this time, nails first, that blood draws, and sobs as she's still met with nothing.

She has no heartbeat.

She is dead.

She chokes. She clutches her chest, not because it hurts to know what she lacks in her chest, but because she remembers. Remembers it so intently, remembers it happening in the snap of a finger, literally, from a smiling God (and maybe it is quite a fitting end, for she goes out the same way she lived, giving second chances to men who don't deserve it) and how the world tilted as the ground slipped away.

But what's worse is the realization that comes after.

"I didn't leave anyone anything to find," she says.

Wilbur raises an eyebrow. "What?"

"I didn't leave anyone anything to find because I didn't die," she says again, but weaker. More horrified. "I was teleported. I was on the holy lands when - "

"Teleported?' Wilbur interrupts. His features, just a second ago, eccentric and mad, turn curious. "Wait wait wait, hold on a second, are you telling me you were sent to Hell, Hell, on the fucking Holy Lands? "

Niki weakly nods.

It goes silent.

Suddenly, a snort. A snort that does not sound like it once did, back before the war for independence, before the election, before banishment, before it all, when all there was was a caravan and the worst of their worries was getting Sapnap a vegan hotdog. It's meaner, more shrill, and laced with a madness that seems to roll off his tongue so easily nowadays.

If she weren't watching how hard Wilbur's shoulders shake she'd have never guessed such a sound would come from him.

But there's something else about this snort that chills her to the core. Although she never could have imagined it coming from Wilbur doesn't mean she hasn't heard this kind of laugh before.

It's almost breathless, almost like something left on a stove, steaming, almost like the sound of  -

(Dream and Wilbur worked together, both wanted L'manburg gone, both almost killed a kid, both cut off attachments, both lost trust in others, all things Niki has done too, and if Niki is like Wilbur and Wilbur is like Dream then that means - )

(No. Please, no)

"That is -," Wilbur wheezes, wiping away a tear. "That is horribly ironic."

"DreamXD!" She shouts, head tilted up. "Take me back! Take me back right now!"

Wilbur shakes his head. "Oh, no need to try that. I've been there. The whole shouting for help thing? Yeah, will do you no good. No one can hear you down here."

"DreamXD! I'm here!"

"Scream all you want, prime knows you don't need to breathe down here so nothing's stopping you from doing it for forever, but when your screams are all you hear for eternity… well, it'll drive any person mad."

"DreamXD," she shrieks. And her lungs don't shake, don't even give a small quiver, she knows it. Nothing in her does, for the gears don't need to be turning to keep this machine of a body that's been on autopilot since an explosion knocked her off her feet alive anymore. "Please!"

"You stop talking after a few years of just endless screaming for your voice becomes a reminder of your entrapment. But then the silence itself, after a few years, is unbearable. Yet you don't dare speak or make any noise, so it's just madness of a new kind."

She pushes her way past him and makes her way to the exit of her bakery. "I - I liked the magic trick, DreamXD! I really did! You - you can teleport me back now!"

"Too scared to make a noise, but too scared to keep quiet. So you stand still. Your body deteriorates, muscles numb from lack of use, and all you do is use your nails to scratch marks onto the walls to mark how many years have passed since… since absolutely nothing."

She stills. She slowly turns around.

(L'manburg is surrounded by a wall. A wall so mighty and tall she never thought she'd see the day it'd be torn down, much less by its own inhabitants. But this wall right here, the one between her and this old friend, this is a wall that will never meet the same end as its predecessor)

"Wilbur," she whispers. "What do you mean by years?"

Silence.

Wilbur has a far-away look in his eye.  

(That look was born in a dirt hole on the side of a small hill and Niki doesn't learn that lesson for she builds her bakery in a similar place. Two places, so small, so cramped, started with hope, have become their worst downfalls, their unfinished symphonies. She parallels him in all the wrong ways)

"Time down here is like stars, Niki. We're dead, dead for thousands of years, but to them," he points up, "we still shine. It'll take light years for them to realize they are staring at just a memory."

She tries to take a step back, but she's rooted where she stands. "Wilbur," she weeps. "How long have you been down here?"

He laughs.

(There was a time it made Niki's heart stop. It still does, but for different reasons now)

"Eleven years."

Niki covers her mouth to stifle a broken cry. She was paralyzed before but now, with fear pumping through her veins, she runs. Fear is a more dependent motivator than strength or bravery could ever be, for fear, unlike any other heroic emotion, can't be beaten out of you. Can't be threatened out of you by a friend on your birthday as you try to stop him from pressing a button. Fear only grows, like a weed, you can try to get rid of it all you want, but it multiplies the more you struggle.

She finally gets to the exit, nearly throwing herself at it, only to find a stone wall staring back at her. It's been cemented shut.

She's trapped.

(She is in a cage, a zoo animal for Manburg citizens to point and laugh at. It is cramped, it is humiliating, and it is her home, her everything in wake of becoming nothing to people she once considered friends, Schlatt tells her. Until Quackity frees her. But there is no one to free her now. Except herself)

She pulls up her sleeves and begins mining with her bare hands.

She's been torn apart before, but at least it was quick. This, the way her flesh slowly peels off at each scratch is its own kind of torture. Not because it's painful, but the torture in knowing what you're willing to do to yourself just to see the sky again.

She keeps going.

(She does not throw up at the sight of chunks of flesh dangling where nail once was because she is a soldier and she has seen worse. Seen a child trapped in a box screaming for help and she's unfortunate enough to have a seat in the splash zone. Helped patch up Ponk's wound where his arm should be, afraid she might lose him to blood loss because whoever chopped his arm off didn't cut across the joint to avoid the bone and therefore had to hack again and again and again to get through the bone. Sewed Fundy's head back together from when Schlatt beat him over the scalp with a beer bottle before dying in the caravan; it took a couple of hours to finish because his fur made it hard to spot the bits of glass sticking out his skin. This is not the first or last time she will wash blood off her clothes, she just has to hope it will continue to be someone else's and not her own)

Wilbur comes up beside her. He doesn't even try to stop her, much less flinch at all the red on the wall. "Don't worry, you'll get used to it. Tommy did."

She snaps her head to him, her clawing ceasing. "Tommy was here?"

He nods. "Arrived a few years ago. I have to admit, when a space opened up here I thought it would be him again, not you. Not that I'm complaining. Don't get me wrong he's a good kid but, well, you know how Tommy gets."

(Everyone you've ever hated, everyone you've ever sworn to end; Schlatt, Tommy, and although you do not hate Wilbur or Jack you're relationship with them is complicated because they remind you of when you spiraled, you lot are all connected now, bound together from sharing the similar experience of death. She can never separate herself from them. Will be rever grouped in with the people she can't stand most)

"How long was Tommy here for?" She asks softly.

Wilbur clicks his tongue. "Two months I think."

She closes her eyes.

(She wanted to look deep into the crater Tubbo's nuke made and confuse Tommy's charcoal, burnt body for obsidian. She wanted to catch Tommy's choked last breaths in a bottle and get drunk on it every night. She wanted to leave spruce wood on his grave as a sort of flag marking her latest conquest. She wanted to stop thinking that if Wilbur was wrong for believing in Tommy then that means he might have been wrong for believing in her)

She doesn't want Tommy dead anymore and although they're still not friends even she wouldn't wish this on him.

"Two months," she says, and it sinks in.

Is that how long she'll have to wait until someone comes looking for her?

That is if someone even cares to look.

(Puffy doesn't respond to any of her messages after their first date. She turns Jack away when he tries to pull her back into the obsession of caving Tommy's head in. Everyone grieving L'manburg remembers her setting L'mantree aflame. Anyone in the Eggpire is too far gone to even care about themselves. She doesn't have a Tubbo. Isn't anyone's disk. She's just Niki, forgotten, ignored Niki, the first ghost of the server before Ghostbur. Why spare a glance at someone transparent? Someone, not all there?)

No one will come for her.

Wilbur cracks his fingers, and Niki winces, for her bones are still on flesh display and slowly repairing. "Well, now that we've played twenty questions let's move on to a new game. You up for some solitaire?"

She rises to her feet and numbly nods. She might as well have something to do to, to try and prevent the inevitable insanity with a card game.

Might as well accept her fate.

Wilbur reaches into his pocket and pulls out the cards. He sits down on the ground. "Sorry," he says. "I'd offer we play on a table but there are no tables in a train station and I doubt your bakery has one either." He hands her half of the deck. "Help me set it up."

But Niki doesn't take them, for she's focused on the word table because -

(There's a table, a weird table, made up of this block she's never seen before. It's sponge-like, with a hole on top decorated by a blueish-green frame, and she's about to ask where they found it when Phil suddenly apologizes for exploding her bakery. At her shocked expression, he explains he'd like to air out all possible tensions before starting their first-ever official Syndicate meeting so that no past grievances keep them from working as an effective team. Techno merely snorts, saying it's not their fault her bakery was on government land, and Phil responds by shooting him a glare fit for his title as Angel of Death. She'd have laughed, she'd have cried because such a look was once how Phil got Wil to eat his vegetables if it weren't for the fact she tells them they have nothing to apologize for. Tells them she left the oven on the day before the attack and by next sunrise, it was already burnt to the ground. Ranboo doesn't blink once from where he sits across from her as she talks. She sees in his eyes that day, how her laughs and her wails blend in with the chaos around her, as if it belongs there, as if she is one with it. And maybe she is, for the fire that consumes her bakery grows and grows and grows but Niki just gets smaller and smaller and smaller as if she has to sacrifice bits of herself to keep the fire going. Perhaps she is, for every monster requires an offering, and her bakery is that. A representative of the old her burning alive to make room for the new, merciless, unhinged her. Good. She looks down at the flint and steel in her hand and in the reflection of the metal she sees a boy with mismatched eyes standing behind her, staring. And then he takes out his book and writes. It feels like Ranboo has placed a noose around her neck. The memory fades and she holds her breath. She waits for him to say something, to call out her lie. This time, Ranboo undoes the knot. He looks away)

Because she needs to tell Ranboo she appreciated his silence that day. Needs to joke about how all this snow reminds her of an ice cream shop and watch Ranboo nervously laugh as she lightheartedly punches him on the shoulder.

Because she needs to know how that story Phil was telling her about his adventures with Techno on another server, something about an Antarctic Empire, ends. Needs to feed the crows with him to make sure he doesn't stare at their wings for too long.

Because she needs to braid Techno's hair one last time while they talk about how pink is clearly the superior hair color. Needs to thank Techno for giving her these becauses, for they wouldn't exist in the first place had he not offered her a place in the Syndicate.

Ironically enough, she always knew she'd die before she could give back all that she owed them. But only because what she owed them was too long a list, too difficult to be expressed in any way that captured what they deserved.

(Somewhere, in a snow biome, there is a family. They're different from each other, too different at times, and yet Ranboo and Techno could wear each other crowns, each fitting perfectly on their heads and no one would know of the switch, except for Phil of course. Right now they're probably looking at their comms around the dinner table, confused by the last message. 'Nihachu fell from a high place.' They aren't worried. Not yet. But in a couple of days, months for her, they'll start to pace. Phil will stand at the edge of the roof, ready to step off, only to remember he doesn't have wings, can't look for her high up in the sky like he used to when she was a kid. Ranboo will force himself through experiments, lose sleep, break himself in, trying to learn how to teleport so as to cover ground faster in the search, to do more than just let his powers go to waste when they could be what brings her home. Techno will grab her rainbow sweater and put it to Steve's snout, but the trail will go cold every time until eventually all of Niki's clothes don't smell like her anymore. They'll do this every day. Nothing will change but their hope, dwindling away each day. So will they just stare at that last message, her unintentional goodbye, looking for some sort of explanation? For some secret message? Some coordinates until they go mad? They won't think she's dead until they've found a body. Won't stop looking, won't leave a corner of the server untouched. Won't stop till they have something to bury)

She can't do that to them.

She slaps the cards out of Wilbur's hands.

"No," she growls, trying to sound tough and less like a kid throwing a tantrum. Perhaps slapping the cards away was not the best start. "I am not going to waste my time playing Solitaire when I could be spending it finding a way back home. And I will if it's the last thing I do."

Wilbur frowns. Niki has the inkling suspicion it has more to do with the cards being all scattered about than from her declaration. "There is no 'last thing I do anymore.' You dying was the last thing you'll ever do. All you have now is this. This is your forever. Our forever."

She turns away from him, just for a second. Away from the sight of his furrowed brows and the crinkles in the space between them where her index finger would go to poke as she teased him. Away from the scrunch of his nose she would joke made him and Techno finally look like twins. Because despite everything, despite all the months that have settled into their bones since the last they saw each other and the wars they've fought on land and in their minds, it's still Wilbur's face. But only in the physical sense. After that, he stops being her Wilbur.

This would be so much easier if his face had physically morphed into a stranger, to prove to her how much he's changed, what he's become over the months, is not all in her head.

Somehow, she finds a way to start.

"You know, not too long ago I'd have stayed with you here. I wouldn't have even put up a fight. I'd have just laid down, closed my eyes, and let the vines on these walls grow over my body until I was just moss. I was… I was so tired, Wilbur. A part of me always will be. I understood. I finally got why you acted the way you did. There was a time I was on half a heart and instead of eating I would - "

Her body begins to shake so hard she almost expects to look down and she cracks in the ground from an incoming earthquake. The only cracks see she's are her own.

She can't say it. Not like that. Not yet.

" - I would respawn to restock the hunger bar," Niki chokes out instead.

(She respawns with dried blood on the back of her head and bones still rattling from the fall. Along her jutting spine, in an almost perfectly straight line that could be confused for an unkempt path lost to weeds and drought, are bruises. She doesn't feel them. All she feels is the urge to do it again)

She blinks and her hand is in her hair, looking for the bump. She pulls her hand away as if it's a hot furnace. "But I can't stay. Things have changed. I've changed. This is not the first time something dark has tried to consume me, but I can't let it win this time. I can't let this place turn me numb and unhinged, or worse, content. Not when I have people to go home to. Not when - "

She looks down at her hand, the one that traced her scalp, and sees it has clenched into a fist.

(At the count of three, Niki throws rock. She groans as she notices all the other hands make paper. Ranboo and Techno exhale as if the losing sentence wasn't shoveling the front lawn, but death. Or worse, going shopping with Phil for a refrigerator to put in the Syndicate meeting room. Ranboo lost that one. Niki points at Techno's hooves and says it's cheating since they can't ever tell which shape he chooses. She demands a rematch with the same tone one uses to declare war. A few minutes later, they're shouting, going over the rules of rock, paper, scissors, and they only stop when Phil comes home and pulls out the dad voice. They begrudgingly agree to do a rematch another time, once they've cooled down. That was yesterday)

She holds her fist close to her heart. The hand was never her rock, it was always three men in a snowy cabin, handing her a mug of hot cocoa. "Not when I have a lawn to shovel."

Silence.

Then, Wilbur sighs. "You know," he says. He places his arms behind him and leans back to get a better look at her. Somehow, even on the ground, he looks to hold all the power. "Years ago your determination would have been a sight for sore eyes, but here's a reality check. I've been here for almost a dozen years. Eleven years of letting the passing train rip right through me in the hopes it would send me to another layer of hell or maybe propel, heck, even drag my body to the next station. But every time I'd wake up back in the train station as if nothing had happened. Like my body breaking under the wheels was nothing."

He is an avalanche, growing and picking up speed with each word, and Niki realizes, too little too late, she's about to be buried alive. She tries to step back, but Wilbur is up quick and approaching. "There is no escape. The limbo is our stage and we have our lines, our cues, but we do not have a curtain call. We just keep going and going, an endless loop. You can't not play your part. It won't let you."

"I have to at least try," she says.

"Why? What's the point? They'll never know you tried."

Her fear turns to disgust. "Is that why you think I'll try? For the sole reason that one day they'll know what I've done for them? That's far from the truth."

(People built statues of Tommy, for all he's done, for all the influence he had on this server. Niki knows they will not give her the same treatment. But that's fine, more than fine. All she needs is a grave in the snow, beside a little cabin)

She didn't want to look at Wilbur's face before, but now, glaring at him straight on, all she sees staring back is Phil.

The day they found out Wilbur didn't inherit Phil's immortality was the day Phil looked like he should, centuries-old instead of thirty-three, the age when angels stop physically aging. Niki will never forget how deep the lines on Phil's face ran. They might as well have been cracks. And maybe it was, for Phil was breaking as he held his dying son - not dying now, but for an immortal, every second a mortal breathes is just inevitable death - in his arms.

But what still haunts Niki the most after all these years are his eyes. They carried the weight of the world in them. She could feel it, even now, pressing down on her shoulders. All the wars, the fall of cities, the birth of them, children with big smiles and even bigger graves.

Niki was not a soldier yet. She was just a nine-year-old girl who wanted to sleep over at her best friend's house.

She threw up in their sink and they mistook it as her reaction to the news. She didn't correct them.

The only reason she slept easy that night was from the knowledge she would never see those eyes on Wilbur's face. And yet, lo and behold, here it is, like a punch to the gut.

Except now, Niki has had time to numb herself to it. It's hard to get surprised by such a dead look when it's on the face of your roommate.

(Phil's screech - no, not a screech, a caw, high pitched and grief-stricken - is like an alarm clock. Except, instead of Niki waking up to the rising sun outside her window, it's to moonlight and blinking stars. This is the fifth time this month she's met Ranboo and Techno outside Phil's cabin, armed to the teeth, ready for war. The door creaks open, loudly, but they don't wince, for they know it won't wake him. Nothing really does when he's in this state, except for one thing. Techno holds him down and it's weird, will always be weird, to see Techno use such force, such retaliation, on Phil of all people, and then Phil nearly throws Techno through the wall with just a brush of his fingers, and she remembers it's necessary. This isn't Phil they're dealing with, it's the Angel of Death. It takes a while until Techno can get all of the Angel's limbs down, but even then they know it won't last long, and that's when Niki throws a slowness potion on him. Ranboo, meanwhile, turns around all the photos of Wilbur in the room, a safe distance away. They told him it's best he handles that since he's built like a stick, putting him anywhere near a powerful avian would be an accident waiting to happen. It definitely has nothing to do with them freezing up whenever they see Wilbur's smiling face, all happy, and so very alive. Phil's movements turn sluggish as the potion kicks in and Niki holds his face, murmurs soft words, and Techno gives his own weird, but comforting, comments. Something about how Phil can't afford to lose sleeping beauty to these night terrors, what with his old age. Niki snorts. Phil's eyes open immediately. Phil sucks in a sharp breath, like he's forgotten how to breathe, his fist clenching and unclenching. The eyes are back. Based on Techno's face Niki knows then she's not the only person that has seen them. They look at each other, nod, and hold him as he cries. They don't need to ask. There's only one person that could cause such a look. They force Ranboo, who is awkwardly standing to the side, to join. Eventually, they break apart, and Techno coughs. He says he hates them for making this all emotional and bans such an awkward event from ever happening again. And yet, when Phil keeps waking up with eyes too dark around the corners, Techno is there. And so is she and Ranboo)

She will not be the reason Phil's eyes age another year.

"It's about Phil, Techno, and Ranboo deserving someone who will never stop trying to find their way back to them," she says, with conviction. "I'm sorry you're too twisted to see not all actions stem from reward or acknowledgment."

She expects a laugh, a glimpse at his forked tongue spewing words so sweet she could use them as sugar in her desserts, only to take a bite and realize it was salt all along. But what she gets is silence. The type of silence before a storm.

"Phil?" Wilbur whispers.

Niki closes her eyes.

She should have never said their names.

She also should have never opened her eyes again, because Wilbur is looking more like Phil each second. Not because of the eyes. No, worse. Because she sees a boy, a boy with his arms spread open wide and flapping about in an attempt at mimicking his father's wings, and they're both running around in circles in the backyard as he tells her how she'll never have to walk anywhere ever again. He'll carry her when she's tired, when she's not tired, whenever she wants wherever she wants. They stop running around in circles flapping their arms when too much time has passed and his wings still haven't grown in, but the acceptance that it never would did.

She blinks and the memory is gone. Slipping through her fingers like sand.

"How is he?" Wilbur says. His voice wavers a bit. He hides it quickly with a cough, but Niki catches it. Niki thought she always would.

(But then a button was pressed and she realized just how untrue that was)

Niki hesitates. She thinks about the night terrors again. She almost mentions them but falters as she remembers Ranboo telling her how it was Phil who gave him a place to stay after L'manburg was blown up for the last time. How as Technoblade hibernates there's a blanket over his shoulders that wasn't there before and a stick missing from the fireplace. How he always places Niki's plate of breakfast down before the others, as if he knows of her first canon death.

He is a kind man, but that is not why he does these things.

"He misses being a father," she settles on.

Wilbur's shoulders slump. Somewhere, in a different life, Niki's hand is there, squeezing comfortingly. "Is he… is he mad at me?"

"No." She answers quickly. "He's just tired, Wilbur. We all are."

Wilbur laughs. It sounds defeated. Mournful. "Understatement of the fucking year."

He slumps against the wall and Niki is sure it's the only thing keeping Wilbur on his feet. His head hits the smooth stone when he suddenly throws his head back and laughs. Niki doesn't know if she winces from the loud crack the impact makes or from the shrill, unhinged laugh.

"I told him to kill me," Wilbur chuckles. His eyes are blinking rapidly. "I told him to fucking kill me."

(The diamond sword has collected dust. Sometimes, everyone jokes, Phil looks like he has to. Playful teasing about how he's a walking antique that should be displayed in a museum. Phil always laughs them off. But it's moments when he stands too still, alone in his thoughts for too long, that Niki wants to put him behind glass with signs that say 'do not touch,' because all it takes is one gust of wind for an artifact to shatter. But that is no way to live and Phil is not so easily breakable. Worn down a bit, rusted from the loss throughout the eons, yes -  who hasn't on this forsaken server? -  but not breakable)

Niki thinks she might throw up. "I know."

Wilbur looks at her. His eyes are red, but there are no tears. "You said you understood me. You get why I had to ask him to do it."

"Wilbur - "

" - And so you also understand why you have to stay here."

"What?"

"We've changed Niki," Wilbur starts. "For the worse. Don't you feel it? How that server has destroyed every cell in our body? A slow painful death eating us from the inside out until we've just withered away into someone new, someone unrecognizable?"

(Niki feels she's in a never-ending house of mirrors. Constantly encircled by reflections that are her and not her staring back, each representing different points in her life. Some are unrecognizable, stretched, or squished beyond identification, like a fuzzy memory of a girl carrying a backpack, skipping down a path she was told by a best friend would lead to a nation with yellow and black walls. Some are too terrifying, demonizing her features, giving her slits for eyes and claws for nails holding flint and steel over TNT. All of them she wants to smash)

Wilbur either ignores the horrified expression on her face or doesn't see it. "We killed our old selves as a sacrifice, an offering, to the monster we saw lurking in the edges of our mind. And once you let the monster in there's no going back. All we know from then on is to destroy, to rip apart all we once held dear with no remorse until there's just ash and dust. We thrive, no, revel in it."

(Nemesis, she names herself. Goddess of divine retribution and revenge. Maybe that's who Niki sacrifices herself to. Why she felt such an attachment to the name. A remorseless Goddess said to have led Narcissus to a pool, knowing full well he'd be too captivated to leave his reflection for food or warmth. He died there. It's no coincidence a few weeks before she lived the story herself, leading Tommy to his death in the form of a hot blast of air at the speed of light and seeing it as justice)

"I'm not having this conversation with you," she says, voice shaking. She whirls around, nearly tripping over her feet, fully willing to ignore him as she looks for an exit.

But his next words make her go still.

"Phil didn't know what I'd become. That's why he had to be the one to do it."

She winces. "Don't."

"He didn't even pull out the sword, his arms were too busy holding me, holding me, as if the shape of me still fit against his chest even though I felt so hollow, so much thinner - "

"Wilbur - "

" - he stroked my hair too. Even though it was dirty and unkempt and a mess like everything else about me and I'm pretty sure his fingers got stuck a few times he just wouldn't stop untangling each knot with such care and precision that I remembered my last thought being - "

"Wilbur - "

" - could he have brushed away all the knots and twists in my soul like this? Cleaned me up on the inside like he's doing on the outside? I thought I went crying, Niki. Maybe I did. I'll never know because all I felt was his tears ricocheting on my face - "  

"Stop - "

" - he tries to wipe them off. He's cursing at himself, apologizing profusely through hiccuping sobs and, and I don't understand why he's so sorry when it feels like, like when he'd lick his fingers and scrub the grimes of our faces after we played outside too long. Do you remember that Niki - "

"I don't wanna - "

" - because I do. We'd screech so loud, saying it was disgusting and unsanitary as we slapped his hand away and ran, but he'd always catch us a second later because of his wings. I don't wanna run away this time. I'm relishing it, craving every stroke because I'm starting to go cold - "

"Please - "

" - and I wish you weren't teleported here. I wish you had died instead - "  

"Wil - "

" - so you would know, so we could relate to what it feels like for the limbo to claim you. To mark you. It's like, it's like being mutilated over and over again. A mallet to your bones, a hole in your brain, everything from your skin to your tendons unraveling before you - "

"Wil listen - "

" - spilling out and about like confetti, and you, you are confetti! You're shredded pieces, everywhere and nowhere all at once, and just as the mangling begins it stops, replaced by the limbo trying to put you, no, force you back together again. It's the same sensation, but in reverse, almost a loop, a tunnel with no light at the end, and all you can do is scream  - "

"WILBUR SHUT UP AND LISTEN TO ME!"

Something shatters

Wilbur falls silent.

Niki looks down. There is a puddle, slowly growing at her feet. She looks to her left. Her hand has punched through the aquarium. Blood trickles down her hand, some get over the glass. She doesn't pull her hand away.

"You never listen," she mumbles, but it seems so loud to her ears. "No one does. No one wants to. I talk and I talk and I talk and yet no response. Not even from the wind. I am a voice box stuck on rewind, repeating myself as life moves on without me."

Niki can hear her voice ring down the bakery, bouncing around with nowhere to settle. Until it does, in Niki's chest, rattling, crackling like a fuse has been lit, and perhaps it has, for her anger feels sizzling. "You used to always say how words were powerful. How they could stop wars, how they could build nations." She lets out a laugh. It burns her throat. "But what would I know?! You and everyone else never gave me a chance to use my voice! Always talking over me whatever chance you could. Even before Pogtopia you walked all over me! Even when I was screaming at top of my lungs you'd - "  

She gasps. The glass presses deeper into her skin as her hand trembles. She does not feel it. "Oh primes, oh primes Wil, didn't you hear my screams? I came here screaming, Wil. I, I do know what it feels like for the void to take you. I still feel it, even now, why, why do I still feel it - "

Wilbur staggers to his feet, so quick he promptly falls. He catches himself halfway on Niki's wrist.

His hand scratches on the glass. He doesn't even flinch. Their blood mixes.

(They are one)

He doesn't even grip too tight, and yet it hurts. Stings. "You do understand," he grins. Wide, too wide for his face, that she almost expects his nose and eyes to sink into his skin to make more room. "You do, you do oh thank primes. I'm not alone in this. I've been alone for so long but now, now you're here and you understand! Oh, Niki, I'm so happy you're here."

"You're… happy, I'm here?" She mutters. "You're happy I'm dead?"

He nods frantically. "It's more than that Niki," he says. "DreamXD, whoever that man is, he's my hero for sending you here."

(Parallels between Wilbur and Dream and her and now Wilbur and Dream and DreamXD no no no she can't be them she can't she can't she won't she won't - )

"You don't mean it," she cries. "You don't mean that Wil. Say you don't mean it."

The grin, somehow, becomes wider. She realizes then his eyes don't have to disappear. They're already gone. Replaced by a black hole, too dark in the corners and its gravitational pull making it hard to look away even though she knows staring at it too long will get her sucked into an endless void.

He leans in close like he's sharing a secret. "I only wish he had sent you here sooner."

(Wilbur's life, Niki is realizing, is like a house of mirrors too. Except Wilbur has smashed every mirror. No, actually, not true. Niki sees, if she squints, that Wilbur has abandoned the sledgehammer and is observing a still intact mirror. He didn't keep the mirror depicting a little boy sitting on the steps of a home, their home, trying to play a song and failing because the guitar is too big for his body, but he refuses to buy a smaller one because "this is my Dad's guitar Niki! So, therefore, it's by default the best guitar in the world". Or the one of a father panting heavily on a couch, cursing his human legs while Niki is doubled over laughing because there is a baby fox is running on all fours around the house at 45 miles per hour who doesn't want to be put to bed. Nor the one of a leader, handing out purpose and meaning in the form of a blue and white uniform with a soft smile. No, it's the one of a man who's just pressed a button. Who long before L'manburg's destruction, always felt like he was breathing in smoke, but now kept warm by the ash and dust of his nation flying up to the red sky, it feels - for the first time in a long time - easier to breathe. Niki can't believe he didn't destroy it. He's… preserving it. Why is he preserving this version of himself of all things?)

foolish girl with dreams for a better nation, better server, better future, too much better somethings, you've ruined reality for no one but yourself. think for once about what is and not what was or could have been. he is different. changed for the worse. he's preserving it because he doesn't care about you. can't you see how happy he is over your death? how there's light in his eyes for the first time over yours being snuffed out? how he shows no sympathy in your entrapment here, forever away from Techno, Phil, and Ranboo because it benefits him. so give in and fight fight fight fight

She sees red.

Her fist collides with Wilbur's nose.

She doesn't even wait to hear the crack before she's already reeling back her arm for the next hit.

This time she aims for the jaw. She feels something split. It could be Wilbur's lip or bone. Maybe her mind. She doesn't know and she doesn't care.

What she does know is how familiar this is, having something break under her knuckles. It's easy, familiar even, throwing punch after punch, like some sort of autopilot response. Perhaps it is, for every punch is instinctive, out of body almost. No longer is there a before in the blows, only an after.

Except, that's not true. Not entirely. Because Niki is realizing why there is no before. Because before each blow there is always a struggle from your opponent. Flailing limbs trying to make contact with something, choked wheezes, an attempt to curl into a ball, and, sometimes, begging.

Wilbur does none of that. He's silent the whole time.

It's almost like he takes it willingly.

clever girl with hands too bruised, too scarred, too violent to ever be held so gently. a finger trained to pull the trigger is not meant to bear a promise ring. who's fault do you think that is? you've held back for so long, don't stop now. so give in and get revenge revenge revenge revenge

A swing at his eye. A swift kick to the ribs. A fistful of his hair so tight she could yank his scalp off if she twisted her wrist just so.

It's all a flurry of movements really, too fast for even her own eyes to catch. Half of the time she's lost on where the hits land, totally dependent on wherever the blood leaks the most and the bruises that weren't there a second ago to tell her. Eventually, the damage starts to blur, too much of his face has swelled up to spot any new marks and too many limbs bend at weird angles to differentiate what is and isn't broken, so she stops trying to guess.

Which is why she doesn't know which strike finally gets Wilbur to fall, all she knows is that he does. He doesn't even sway. One second he's on his feet and the next he's on his back.

It's kinda pathetic really, that this was her general.

For a second he's still, too still, and then he spits out a tooth. He licks his gums with a grimace, looking for the gap before finally speaking.

"I see Technoblade's been training you. Do you feel better now?"

clever girl who's seen her fair share of men with livewire tongues, spitting rogue sparks at your skin in the form of harsh words to quiet you down. do not be silenced once more. you let him speak before and it cost you a nation. this time silence him, and I will secure you a limbo without him. so give in and maim maim maim maim

She screams. She thinks she does. It's hard to tell over the deep reverberated banging of Wilbur's head against the stone floor.

The first slam simply causes blood to trickle down his forehead.

The second one caves in the front of his scalp.

The third one he's unrecognizable.

The fourth one there's nothing left to bash.

She keeps going anyway.

"Shut up," she pants between each crack and occasional splat. "Shut up shut up shut up shut up SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP."

Wilbur tries to say something. All that comes out is a gurgle, wet and sharp and loud. So very loud. And it keeps going, stringing along and along and along longer than the large chunks of skin and brain on the pavement. It shouldn't be possible, his mouth, along with everything else, is practically gone. Nothing but a small pit inside a bigger pit.

Yet it continues, getting increasingly louder in pitch.

And then she gets it.

He's scared.

clever girl of never-ending war zones, jumping from one horror to the next. this is the last one. and I know that's been said before but you can trust me. just end it and you can finally rest. wouldn't that be nice? so give in and kill kill kill kill kill

She smiles. It hurts her face.

She picks his head up from the ground one last time. She's humming, like a lullaby. Maybe it is. She's putting the baby to sleep. She knows he can't die again, but wherever he goes after this, if the limbo keeps its promise, it can't be pretty.

"I said," she laughs. "Shut up."

She brings his head down.

She blinks.

Her empty hand meets black stone slabs.

"Niki?"

She looks up and immediately regrets it. Everything is too bright, scorching, a burning gaze on every inch of her skin, but what really hurts are her eyes. She thinks they're sizzling, like actually sizzling, because her sclera feels as if it's bubbling and her iris is definitely melting into her brain and there are so many spots dancing behind her eyelids.

And then the voice, soft and familiar, speak's again.

"Do you have your stuff?"

It takes a while, and a lot of blinking, but her eyes eventually readjust.

She gasps.

The first thing she processes isn't that George and DreamXD stand just a few feet away or that it was George speaking. No, it was how absurdly colorful, everything was.

Here there was life. Life. It was like she poked her head through a kaleidoscope, what with how the specks of a rainbow illuminated itself in the clear blue water of the fountain and the sight of shimmering white quartz glistening under the sunbeams that poured through the purple-tinted windows. No longer was everything dulled around the corners and drained at the center like anything in her dreadful, cramped space of a bakery she shared with -

Oh primes.

Her bakery.

This isn't her bakery. This is Church Prime.

"She's back," DreamXD exclaims. He turns to George, bouncing on his heels excitedly as if expecting some sort of reward, but George pays him no mind/ He's too busy looking at Niki, or, more so, through her.

"What happened?" He asks.

She opens her mouth, then slams it shut.

She's alive. Dear primes, she's alive and she's back and she should be happy, cheering, jumping up and down to feel the livelihood ache in her bones but…

She looks back down at the floor. The floor should be covered in blood. Wilbur's blood, and his bits of flesh and tissue and muscle and -

Oh primes. What has she done?

Or better yet, what didn't she do?

"George," she whimpers. "I don't know what's going on. I, I don't know what's going on here."

She hopes it was her imagination. It had to have been. Otherwise, she hosted Wilbur's head up by the splits of his hair, pushed down as hard as she could and -

She wouldn't. She couldn't, not anymore at least. She left that side of herself in a gate full of slaughtered chickens as Jack demanded they try and kill Tommy again. That side of her is as dead as those chickens.

Right?

She prays so, for this is a church after all, and that means prayers have to be answered here. They have to come true. They have to.

There's a smile in DreamXD's voice when he speaks again as if he knows how much this torments her. "I sent her to hell and then I brought her back."

No.

She sobs. She looks down at her hands. Their bear and yet they feel so heavy. As if the ghost of Wilbur's blood and gore is still there, a new thick-coated layer of skin.

She tortured him. Broke him brick by brick again and again and again even as he tried to beg. Her best friend, her general, her family, begging at her feet, and she kept going, would have kept going too, with an ear-splitting grin, like it was some sort of game.

And it had felt so good to finally get a checkmate.

Wilbur is not a demon. He's just seen too much in too little time. Too much pressure on too little shoulders. Too tired to be all there. It's not an excuse for all the pain he's caused, far from it, but it shows his actions didn't come from a place of malice, but rather a cry for help. Niki knows this, she gets it, and she'll say it time and time again. But all she could think about at that moment, before the final strike, was how happy Wilbur was about her death. He deserved a piece of her mind, but not like that. Never like that.  

What is wrong with her?

No, no it wasn't her. It was that place, that voice. It was a parasite, burrowing deep within her brain and planting itself in the center, telling her what to do and what to say. Telling her to slaughter left and right. It was so loud, rattling around in her head and echoing like war drums. She couldn't just ignore it, it was too much. So, no, she is free of guilt, free of responsibility, hands all clean.

But she knows that at the end of the day the host still needs to be somewhat conscious for the parasite to thrive.

Oh primes. Is this what Techno deals with every day?

Then, she jumps to her feet.

Techno, Phil, and Ranboo.

It's coming back now, that memory of fury in her eyes, that fire in her voice as she told Wil she had people to go back to. How she was willing to claw her fingers down to bone to make an exit. But that voice, that stupid stupid voice, it told her she could rest, could get revenge, and against her better judgment she listened. It caught her at a moment of weakness, Wilbur's words of memory lane, of Phil, of everything that came before and after his death, she was at a low point. And like a moth to a flame, she was there one moment and gone the next. Back to the old her.

She thought she had left that version of herself behind when she joined the Syndicate. She was so sure she was getting better with Techno, Phil, and Ranboo around.

But all it took was one voice to ruin all her progress. 

Her chest constricts and her head feels heavy. 

She needs to find them. She needs to tell them what she saw. She needs to tell Phil. She needs… she needs…

She just needs them.

"What did you see?" George says, snapping her out of her thoughts.

This time, her mouth has no problem moving. "George," she starts, voice trembling. "I have seen things. I... I... I have seen things. I don't know what's going on here but I don't know if I should - "  

Niki gulps. It's getting so hard to breathe. She should feel thankful that she can breathe in the first place, but every inhale stings as her lungs try to remember to do a motion so foreign to her.

How long has she been down there?

She doesn't want to know.

She just wants to go home.

She walks away, backward, from the two, eyes fixated tightly on them and barely blinking. She remembers the last time she let her guard down around DreamXD. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry George. Good luck with him but I - "

She doesn't finish, because she's already out the door. She wants to run, but she's so sure her lungs would explode at the first push forward of her heel. So she walks.

And walks.

The world walks with her, with each rotation. As if they’re friends taking a stroll. As if it hadn’t cracked open and swallowed her whole, chewed up everything good in her and spat her out when she turned bitter. Returned her back to a world that didn’t change one bit while she was gone, despite her herself changing so much. 

It’s like what happened to her didn’t happen at all. 

And then she realizes a horrible thing. 

Everyone on this server is going to see today as a normal day. 

Is it bad that a part of Niki wishes something like the Green Festival could happen right now, so that they could all feel the monstrosity of today?

She stands still. Stationary, like this Earth wants her to be. She thinks she could do it, stay like this forever. She feels numb enough. 

Somewhere above, a crow caws. 

She burst into tears.

[dragonjadearts]

Ransom note for bthb? 👀

Ransom Note

Author’s Note: Holy cow this took longer than it should have because I kept putting it off. Anyways, here’s this. Also, this was going to be a lot longer, but I cut it off because it already took me so long and I have even more prompts to do so sorry if it ends weirdly, I’m terrible at ending things

Words: 2k

Characters: Last Dragonborn, Serana, Shadowmere, Llewellyn the Nightingale

Fandom: Elder Scrolls V (Skyrim)

Content/Trigger Warnings: Canon-Typical violence, kidnapping, kidnapping of children

Read it on A03!

Summary: After a long extended quest away from home, Teris is eager to get some much-needed rest at her manor in Falkreath, enjoying the forest and the company of her family. But what she finds when she returns home is anything but peaceful.

There was a warm wind off of Lake Illinalta, carrying with it the scent of salt and salmon. It was early in the spring morning and the sun cast long shadows on the cobblestone roads. Hoofbeats echoed in the morning light, as two riders strode by. They were silent, not out of discomfort but exhaustion. They had been traveling throughout the night and were eager to return home and rest.

Serana sighed, stretching her back. The old vampire had her hood drawn over her head and she squinted in the growing sunlight. Luckily she knew these roads well. She had walked them more times than she could count.

Teris looked out over the forest. She was happy to be back amongst the tall pine trees. Of all the properties she owned, this one reminded her most of home. There were no pine trees in Valenwood, but the scent of soil and cracking of branches was one she knew all to well. After her long journey in the North-western holds, she was happy to return to the forests.

Her mount, the red-eyed demon Shadowmere, snorted as he walked. He too was pleased to be back, happy to be amongst the trees he knew so well. The pond he had called his home for many years now was not far, and the Sanctuary — though now tainted with death and the scent of ash — was also close.

As the small group turned from the main road and made their way up across the unpaved paths, the manor began to slowly appear through the trees. The tall library tower was the first thing to notice. The second thing to notice was the lack of carriage out front. His absence was noted, but not concerning, he was likely escorting someone away or even on his way back by this point.

As Teris and her companion approached the entrance, her long elven ears twitched slightly, noting the lack of noise. It was deadly quiet, unusual for the house. A wave of unease washed over her. She called Shadowmere to a stop and gracefully leaped off his back. There was no sign of her children, who often played around the sides of the house. Her wife and housecarls were also nowhere to be seen and there was no sound of them nearby either.

Serana dismounted as well, just behind Teris. She seemed wary, and though tired, she readied herself. She too took note of the lack of life to the normally boisterous house. “I’ll check down by the lake,” she said, addressing her friend. Teris nodded absently, staring up at the house, a mix of emotions in her eyes. “They’re probably just enjoying the weather,” Serana said, in lackluster attempt at comfort. When that too failed to garner much of a response, she sighed to herself and began to make her way down the hill, to do as she had said.

Teris stood still for a moment longer, swaying on her feet, before she shook herself from her stupor and forced her feet to take steps towards the entrance. With bated breath, she put her hand on the wooden door. She exhaled and pushed it open slowly, not daring to look until it had fully opened to reveal her home.

As she opened her eyes, a wave of fury and fear washed over the Bosmer. She drew her weapon, the purple enchantment casting ominous shadows on the ruined furniture. Her weapon racks and trophies were scattered across the floor, the weapons themselves now gone. There were scratches on the walls and ash marks burned deep into the floorboards.

She stalked slowly through the entrance, pushing open the doors to the main hall without a noise. The state of that room was no better off than that of the entry hall. The long table in the center lay on its side, dishes broken and scattered on the ground. The fireplace at the end of the hall was unlit, and coals and ashes were swept to the side, staining the fine wood an ugly black and grey. On her left, one of the doors to the Greenhouse lay broken off its hinges at an odd angle, only propped up by the still closed door that accompanied it.

Teris slowly took another step forward, careful not to step on the particularly creaky floorboards. There wasn’t much light in here, only the purple glow of her sword, and the green light and shadows cast from the enchanter’s table upstairs. All the wall scones were unlit and dead.

She noticed, however, that the doors to the library were firmly shut, and if she concentrated and closed her eyes, her elven ears could pick up the faint sounds of shuffling from within. She ground her sharpened teeth together, sheathing her sword silently.

She quietly crept to the doors and scanned them for a moment. She turned to the side and with a quick jolt, rammed her shoulder into the doors. They didn’t budge but she was rewarded with the sound of a sharp intake of breath coming from within and the scraping of metal, presumably from whoever was inside picking up their weapon off the floorboards. She smiled a wolfish grin and took a few paces back. Readying herself, she rammed again into the doors. They shook and she could hear something heavy on the other side shift out of the way. Once more she threw herself at the doors, this time stopping just short as they crashed inwards.

To no surprise, not a moment later, a figure leaped out, crashing into her and wielding a sharp weapon. Teris dropped to the ground, throwing the attacker over her shoulder. She quickly withdrew the dagger from her boot and spun around on one heel to kick her attacker in the side. She lunged forward, slamming her knee into his chest and holding her knife to his throat. After a moment, she paused, recognizing the face staring back at her.

“Llewellyn?”

“Oh praise be! Lady Teris! You’ve finally come back!” The bard cried in breathless relief.

Teris stood up quickly, removing her knee from the bard’s chest and extending her left hand out to help him up, an offer he took gratefully.

“What happened here?” She asked.

“Bandits!” Llewellyn exclaimed. He reached up to clutch at his left arm which was soaked through with red. “Nasty pests, they ruined this entire home! I’m so sorry my lady, I tried to fight, I really did, but I’m no warrior!”

“It’s alright,” Teris soothed, a pang of sympathy echoing in her voice. “Calm down. Where is everyone? Are they alright?”

The bard sighed, shaking his head in shame. “No, I’m afraid not. Just over a week ago, Lady Aela had left for Whiterun. Her brothers in arms said they had some sort of quest for her. She took Gunjar with her and left Lydia and Rayya here to protect the home.

But they left just a few days ago to receive some supplies from Falkreath and didn’t return. Not a full day had passed when a group of bandits arrived. I swear on my honor I tried to defend the children, but there were many of them, and I’m a poor coward. They left with the two young ones.” Llewellyn ended his tale with a regretful tone.

Teris was shaking with rage. She ground her teeth together and clenched her hands into tight fists. Taking a deep breath, she let the air hiss out of her teeth, like a snake warning off a predator. “Did they leave a note?” She forced out, still shaking with rage.

Llewellyn shuffled awkwardly from foot to foot but nodded hesitantly. “Upstairs, I believe,” he said. “In the bedroom on-“

Teris didn’t let him finish. She spun around on her heel and marched up the stairs to the bedroom. The upstairs was in a marginally better state than downstairs, but only because the space there was more confined. In fact many pieces of furniture that weren’t laying on their side were laying on the first floor, having evidently been thrown off the staircase and down into the main hall. The bed of the master bedroom was messy, as if it had been hastily made up and the unmade again, and a lockbox full of keys lay open on its side, spilling said keys out onto the floor. A note lay on the end table, blood stained.

Teris snatched up the letter, pulling it open. She read quickly, every word only serving to anger her further. The letter read:

“To whom it may concern:

You certainly have a lovely home and such lovely children. I have never had children for myself, but these ones should do nicely. I think they’ll rather enjoy staying with me for a while longer. Of course if you don’t want that, I believe we can work out a deal.

I want 4000 septims for the safe return of your children. You have one week.

I eagerly await your coin at Arcwind Point.

Yours truly,

Rochelle the Red”

Teris tore the letter in half and threw it to the ground, letting out a scream of anger. Dragon tongue echoed in her throat, begging to be released. She shouted, pulling out her sword and swinging it down in a glowing purple attack that did nothing to help her release her fury. She screamed again, primal fury echoing in her voice and out across the mountains. In the far distance, deer lifted their heads and ran for hills. Birds let out one final cry and turned away. In Falkreath, citizens felt a shiver run down their back as something ancient and angry rippled through time and space. All the way to Whiterun, a wave of uneasy emotions swept over every hunter, sell-sword, and citizen.

Teris fell silent, panting and clutching her sword in her hands. Her ears twitched as the sound of familiar boots climbing the stairs reached her. Serana was silent, waiting for Teris to make the first move.

The Dragonborn growled. She straightened up, closing her eyes for a moment. As she sheathed her sword once more, she felt a wave of calm rush over her. She opened her eyes and turned to Serana. The ancient vampire met her gaze. She recognized the calm cold fury shining in her friend’s eyes. She nodded.

Teris took one last glance around the destroyed upstairs before her eyes settled on Serana again. “Llewellyn is injured,” she began. “Clean his wounds. Then take him to Falkreath and look for those damn housecarls. I’ll meet you in Whiterun once I get the girls.

Serana nodded. “I’ll send word to Aela once we reach Falkreath, let her know what’s going on.”

Teris bowed her head and the vampire stepped aside, letting her friend down the stairs. Llewellyn looked up as she came down, sitting on the turned over side of the table, still clutching his wounded arm. He look exceedingly nervous, even more so as Teris turned her gaze to him and he noted the rage and fury that was shining through it. She felt a twinge of regret and having scared the bard so much with her anger, but she had bigger things to deal with. She picked her way through the scattered home and shoved open the doors to stand, blinking in the sunlight.

The woods were silent now, as if holding their breath in fear and anticipation. The sounds of wildlife that had accompanied Teris on her journey to the house were now silent. Those that hadn’t fled her voice were deathly quiet, as if fearing to make a noise lest they be on the receiving end of her fury.

The only sign of life was Shadowmere, standing proudly where Teris had dismounted him. He locked eyes with her to the side and she swore that if horses could smile, he would be smirking. There was an understanding. She marched to his side and climbed aboard his saddle. There was no hesitation in either of their movements as the hunter spurred the enormous red-eyed demon into movement and they galloped down the hill and onto the main road. They had prey to catch.

[guccifloralsuits]

Hey! Sorry if this is rude or dumb but I keep seeing the word queer-baiting used on twitter about Harry and I know you don’t think that’s true but I’m confused about what actually is supposed to mean? no one can seem to agree what it is and you seem like you know it so yeah sorry if this isn’t okay to ask I know it’s not your job to educate me

happy to help!!!! Queerbaiting is widely misused as a term, & doing so can be really harmful. It’s not dumb or rude at all to ask!

By definition, queerbaiting is when entertainment content intentionally leads on LGBT+ audiences with the promise of representation w/out delivering, or by doing so in a dismissive & harmful way. There are a few main components for what qualifies (& doesn’t qualify) as queerbaiting:

Queerbaiting happens only in a fictional context.

Queerbaiting is explicit and intentional. 

Queerbaiting is when audiences are led on to genuinely believe that the non-straight/non-cis aspect of a character is being set up to get canon-recognized, only for writers to dismiss or leave these claims unacknowledged

Queerbaiting also includes (but is not limited to): only canon-confirming lgbt+ ships w/in the last few episodes of a series, the “bury your gays” trope, & tokenizing lgbt+ characters & reducing them to plot-devices or shallow stereotypes. 

Let’s break each bullet down further: 

A. Queerbaiting happens only in a fictional context. Real people can’t queerbait because 1) it’s really harmful to label certain clothes, mannerisms, physical traits, or mediums of self-expression as gay & 2) we should not be forcing people to out-themselves or prove their level of queerness to us before they are ready just so they can be #allowed to express their identity.

B. Queerbaiting is explicit and intentional. This is where a lot of people get confused. What this means is that queerbaiting is when hinting at sexuality is physically in the script or description of the dialogue.

Implicit gestures or the onscreen sexual chemistry between two characters is not enough to call queer-baiting (actor chemistry is implicit & often unplanned). complimenting a same-sex character on their appearance/clothes/character is also not not enough to call something queerbaiting (it’s not an explicitly queer overture).

C. Queerbaiting is when audiences are led on to genuinely believe in the possibility of canon leading towards confirmation of a non-straight/cis aspect of a character by their dialogue and by script-written action. It’s a whole different ballpark to HC a character as gay (cus #vibez) vs. to have a character go on a storyline arc about their romantic attachment to a same-sex character only for them to later dismiss it as “I was just experimenting lol.” (I’m looking @ you, The Politician & Ryan Murphy).

Let’s look at 2 examples of what might and might not be considered queerbaiting. you don’t need to know the background context to understand these scenes for our purposes.

Exhibit A: Moreid & This Scene from CM (you can click to watch for full context, the relevant part starts at around 00:57). The Dialogue:

Reid: There's an old Buddhist saying that, when you meet your soulmate, remember that the act to bring you together was 500 years in the making. So always appreciate and be kind to each other.

Tara: That's lovely.

Reid: There's a corollary for friends. When you meet a true friend, you will be bound together though space and time for 500 years. Which means...in 2200, I’m gunna get Morgan back for that practical joke he played on me last week.

Morgan: bring it, Pretty Boy. I’ll be waiting for you.

Reid: I’ll be there.

So like. I choose to believe that was gay in my head ❤️. But I see some people in the cm fandom have called this Queerbaiting before, when it actually isn’t because writers took the time to add “corollary for friends.” (If that wasn’t there it’d be different, but...) It was playing on fans love of Moreid’s dynamic, sure, but I did not leave that scene thinking “oh my god, the writers are going to make moreid canon holy shit!” I left it thinking “wow I can’t wait to read fanfic about this 👀.” The show-writers weren’t honestly leading me on to believe that this was a relationship which was going to play out. There was no direct sexual ambiguity here. There’s absolutely a different convo to be had about inclusive representation but. This is ship-teasing at best

In contrast, let’s look at this scene where Stiles goes to a club in Teen Wolf. You can watch it here (but honestly? You don’t need to see the video to see the baiting and that’s a key difference, too). Dialogue:

[A girl pulls at Stiles to start kissing in the club. He stops, for a moment]

Stiles: I...thought you liked girls?

Girl: I do like girls. Do you?

Stiles: yeah. Absolutely.

Girl: great!

Stiles: so you also like boys?

Girl: Absolutely! Do you?

Stiles: [looks off in contemplation, as if he’s never considered the possibility before].

AND THEN THE SCENE JUST ENDS. ITS NEVER ADDRESSED AGAIN. JUST DROPPED.

This scene was both intentionally written and explicitly leading when Stiles looks off and they end the scene before he answers. I did leave that scene thinking “wait oh my god....they’re going to let stiles be canon bi, holy sHIT—“ and then they didn’t. And they had explicitly alluded to Stiles attraction to guys before this too, like asking if gay guys would find him attractive, or responding “I could be!!” When his dad tells him “you’re not gay.”

Do you see the difference between these examples? Implied subtext alone doesn’t fall within the confines of baiting, and queerbaiting is baiting fans, at its core, about a character’s ambiguous sexuality.

D) other forms of queerbaiting: only giving fans a canon lgbt+ relationship within the last 3 episodes of a series, making a queer couple canon only for one or both characters to immediately get killed off, tokenizing lgbt+ characters & reducing them to plot-devices or shallow stereotypes. This is an attempt to get “hey look!!! We’re so inclusive!!!” points without doing literally any of the work.

E) further reading:

Fandom: Please stop Misusing the term Querbaiting (also a good guide on the difference between ship-teasing & queerbaiting)

Iowa State Professor explains the ins & outs of queerbaiting

hope this helps!

[bangtanxm]

Bookclub; February Highlight

February is the month of love and as we all know, love doesn’t happen over night. Whether it is angst, sexual tension or pining we all love to be on the edge of our seat hoping and begging that they would finally get together. So, naturally this month theme was “Slow Burn” and these are our our monthly fanfic recommendations from our bangtanxm; bookclub!

In the following you find a list of fics we recommend and reviewed this month. Please support these amazing authors! With every monthly recommendation, there is also a drabble game that everyone can participate in. You’ll find the masterlist at the end of the reviews. Happy Reading!

BOOKCLUB; recommendations

TIDES WILL BRING ME BACK TO YOU by @sujigguk​ [aka @ftyoonmin​]

— Summary; Fate is a funny thing. Humble fisherman, Yoongi, learns this when one evening, it's not a fish that sits at the end of his hook, but a bottle, containing a note claiming that a creature of the sea by the name of Jeongguk has been left stranded on land and is soon to draw his last breath.

bookclub; review

“This story immediately pulls you in with the amazing story-telling. Lou has a way of writing so beautifully detailed that it makes you imagine the amazing scenes in your head vividly. On top of that, it is a really heart wrenching love story, mixed with a wonderful fantasy theme of siren Jungkook and his fishermen Yoongi.” [@softjeon​]

“Wow. So, Tides Will Bring Me Back to You has been on my to read list for quite a while. I regret my choices in not reading it until now. This fic was an absolute work of art. The singular amazing thing I want to point out is the attention to detail. So, we as readers expect fics to be good, especially AUs. Like we want some world building and detail so that we can visualize the setting and location and what is going on with the characters that are being put into this new world. This fic was able to do that but MORE. The attention to the setting detail was unbelievable. There was so much in terms of vivid descriptors and explanations that painted this super vivid and pretty image in my mind. I’m scared of the ocean to be honest, so I have never gone out on a ship beyond like, a lake. And have only ever seen the ocean from the safe confines of the beach. But because of the detail in this fic, I was able to visualize it so perfectly and vividly, it felt like I was really there.I really enjoyed Jungkook as well. Obviously he’s a gorgeous young man in real life, right? Which is why I liked this fic because it wasn’t this stunning perfect man from the waist up, you know? He had the scaly back, the webbed fingers, the sharp and kinda creepy teeth, etc. I think that this made it more “realistic”, as realistic as a mermaid fic can get of course, but like… I don’t know, it felt more real and added a layer of uniqueness to the fic that a lot of supernatural AUs tend to lack in fanfic terms. Also, the ending. Some might struggle with this because it was so ambiguous (no spoilers of course) but I really liked it. Though I’m sure the author had like a set “this is how it is” ending or explainer, I like that it’s this sort of grey area for readers to think on and figure out.” [anon]

“Omg, I really loved this fic. It's a bit longer than I normally read because work sort of keeps me away from reading more than writing haha but I really loved how Yoongi had this NEED to help a stranger he had no idea existed or not. Then to watch their love blossom that way and Yoongi protect Jungkook. It's also cute that Jungkook calls Yoongi 'My Yoongi' and Yoongi first thought it was a mispronunciation of his name. I do love mercreatures too, so that also drew me to this one. I loved the details and the tidbits of background we get from Yoongi and his love for the sea/sea creatures. Sorry, this is just all over the place.” [anon]

BABY BLUE by @chimknj​

— Summary; Jimin is blue. He’s loyal to his customers and confident in everything he does. Namjoon is white. He’s pristine and maintains a perfect balance in life. When the two come together, they create baby blue, a color of freshness and something new. It’s new for both of them, but not all new things are bad.

bookclub; review

“What an amazing story! Even though Minjoon is basically already "together", although Namjoon is just paying Jimin to be there, it is just heartbreaking to read about how Jimin tries to get to know the other more, trying to get him out of his shell and falling in love while he is doing it. All while Namjoon tries to stick to his rules making it so much harder for Jimin, himself and the reader....cause damn!!! I could have screamed the characters sometimes and it literally hurt my hurt so much each time Namjoon pushed Jimin away ;; I can't.... I wanna cry just thinking about it again.” [@softjeon​]

“...beautifully written plot, where you just want to punch Namjoon in the face until he finally reveals his true feelings.” [anon]

“I didn’t mean to consume over 70,000 words in one sitting. I honestly didn’t. Over a few days, over a week. Space it. But I knew I was lost at the end of chapter one, the same way Namjoon knew he was lost the second Jimin’s cute hands started unbuttoning his shirt after date night.Honestly. This fic had everything. I laughed a lot, I cried way more than I’d like to admit to, I had the urge to take a cold shower more than once, I wanted to take Joon by his perfectly ironed lapels and shake the ever-loving crap out of him. Honestly though, it felt like a full-length novel. I mean it was, by length, but also by content. The world that was created was beautifully devised and detailed, and everything from the various business names to the design of the apartments was so easy to visualize due to the richness of the descriptors. Personally, I appreciate that. It adds to the ‘movie playing in my head’ way that I like to read.The smut was unbelievably well written. It was sexy without feeling too unrealistically “porn film fantasy” if that makes sense. Like the progression felt natural and easy rather than being rushed or faked like some fics tend to do. It was clear the author did the required research in terms of D/s and wrote what felt very accurately.I loved the involvement of the other members, I think they all played really great, vital roles as side characters. And honestly, they were so rich in their own right that I would love spin offs about their own arrangements with their respective partners!The ending was absolutely sweet and perfect too. I spent the whole fic praying it’d end in a way that was satisfactory to my wrenching heart and I feel like it gave me every single thing I wanted and more.” [anon]

EVERYGREEN by @softjeon​ & @cassiavioletblue​

— Summary; Yoongi felt that something was wrong the moment he had stepped foot into the garden. He hated that this sense of foreboding could mean anything and he had seen enough to have a very vivid imagination of what could wait in the bushes for him. His grip was tight and ruthless but when he felt he weight of something heavier he startled. In front of him on the grass, bloody and shaking was a deer hybrid; a boy, obviously younger than himself and apparently in a lot of pain.

bookclub; review

“Whuff. There's hybrid fics. And then there's THIS hybrid fic. I know that hybrid fics are one of those things you either love em or hate em, I honestly couldn't find a thing to dislike about this fic even if I tried. Firstly Yoongi as the grumpy on the outside (but squishy on the inside) raccoon is perfection. Imagining his markings and those growls and grumbles -- it's so endearing. And then there's JK who, a deer? Oh come on, I'm soft. Imagining him with the broken little antler and those soft, cute markings V_V It's tooth rotting, I swear. But for all the fluff and sweetness, there's this layer of angst and hesitation that makes this feel like such a deep, melancholy slowburn. The will they - won't they, the pull of each and push back, the "I can't" and "I want" -- GUH. Really, it's just so sweet and perfect.” [@kimlinebiased​]

“I read Evergreen as it came out. It seemed like such a cute take on a trope that’s pretty common in our fandom, but one I’m less comfortable with, so I was really eager to see these authors’ take on it, since I knew I love their work already. The story opened up with action that sucked you in almost immediately, but it really balanced that with some slower, almost peaceful moments. I think that’s a really big draw of this story, really these authors overall, but this one in particular. They have a handle on the ebb and flow of the story. What I mean is, things happen and it’s exciting and oh god cliffhanger, but then things slow down and give the reader a second to breathe (but not too long, because then it would get boring). The balance between breathing space and action can be really hard to balance and I think these two do it really well.  For this particular story, I think my favorite character is actually Namjoon. Sure, he doesn’t have a huge part, but I think he’s super well written and quite in character to the canonical person. (All of them are in their own way, but he sticks out to me). He’s so supportive but not afraid to tell Yoongi the truth even if it’ll sting. Further, he isn’t perfect. He lets his heart get in the way of his head sometimes (like with Jimin) and it makes him really endearing and realistic in a refreshing way. I think that he’s one of those absolutely indispensable characters in this particular world. Like sometimes, it’s easy to switch members, have x play y’s part, y play b’s part, etcetera. But I think that Namjoon’s part was written so perfectly, it fits him like a glove and made it really enjoyable when he was on the page. The plot has some things that the reader can “call” so to speak – like you might read and know there’s gonna be trouble for JK, he’s gonna get tangled up in the mess in some way, but even thinking you know, it’s still done in a way that it doesn’t take away from the enjoyment and “oh no” factor when the big climax does finally get rolling. Just like you know pretty sure, it’ll end happy, I still found myself worried about ‘well what if it doesn’t’. And I think that’s a testament to the authors, really. They are able to take these fanfic tropes and make them feel fresh and new, so even if you feel like you might know what will happen, the way that they weave the story together makes those emotions still hit in a really palpable way.I’d also like to discuss the overall setting of the story. There’s only a few locations that the readers really get a feel for, but particularly the cabin. I think that the descriptions of the cabin and forest and general development of the backstory and setting was really well done. Things like hybrid or other non-human AU’s can be really tricky to keep interesting but still give the right amount of backstory and description so that they aren’t confusing. We as readers need to know the rules, but not have a history textbook, and I think this fic really accomplished that as well.Overall, I just really enjoyed the feeling and emotions that this fic caused. I think that it was able to really convey some important messages while still being woven into a sweet, unique love story. [anon]

THE JUSTITIA PUGNATORES by ShoshinLaurels [AO3]

— Summary; When stable boy Park Jimin's best friend, crowned Prince Kim Taehyung finds himself under threat in his own palace, his guards dropping like flies, the only option left is to call on the Justitia Pugnatores, the 'Justice Fighters.'Three men boasting incredible skill and legendary pasts come barrelling through the heart of the palace, shaking everything in their wake.As the dilemma of the princes impending chances of murder only escalates, Jimin finds himself wrapped up in a mess of secrets, heartache and suspiscion.If only Min Yoongi didn't complicate things. 

bookclub; review

“It's been a while since I read this, but I would happily read it in one sitting all over again. I'm a sucker for royal settings and I absolutely ADORED the dynamics of this one. It's just the right amount of angsty and fluffy, and keeps you hooked throughout.” [@sujigguk​]

“Damn these apples! I really loved this fic out of various of reasons, the relationship between the characters are amazingly written, the setting and overall plot is so well thought out and it just has the perfect mixture between angst, fluff and comedy… i mean, just the first chapter had me laughing so much.” @softjeon​

THE WAY GUCCI LOOKS ON YOU by @joonsrack​

— Summary; “Funny how even in this ridiculously absurd situation, life had made Taehyung a third-wheel. Or a sixth.If Bangtan Dry Cleaning was his fairy godmother, Jimin his little mouse, the jacket his magic dress and the club scene his ball, where the fuck was his prince charming?A knock on the door pulled him out of his thoughts.”

bookclub; review

“So, this fic is really is so cute. I started in on it just casually, but found myself entirely sucked in and couldn't put it down until I'd read all that was written on it. Taehyung specifically is such an interesting character - his thought processes and sass are just perfect. I adore Jimin as well. And then there's Jungkook, who is so -INSUFFERABLY ARROGANT- but not in a way that makes you dislike him. He's still so endearing and you WANT these guys to just get off their high horses and kiss or something, but you also kinda want Tae to pour water into his lap because he's such a rich boy. I love it so much. I can't wait for the next part.” [@kimlinebiased​]

“A story that could very well fit a movie! It’s everything you need on a sunday night! You laugh, you want to throw something at their rich faces and scream at the boys to just kiss already. A perfect Slow Burn!” [@softjeon​]

“The way that Gucci look on you (amazing) is such an adorable and absurd (in the best way) slow burn. It’s a wip now, and I honestly cannot wait until the author updates. The case of mistaken identity is such a good trope that honestly, I feel, isn’t done enough. Especially not in such a cute and fun way. Of all the ways for Tae to get outed as not who he said he was – this one was epic. Of course, it’s a slowburn, so you expect the endgame ship to you know, not be huge fans of one another, but the tension here is so palpable, it is awesome. Taehyung cannot stand that cocky little JK and JK’s arrogance is both hilarious and infuriating. But there’s very clearly something deeper to him, and I really like that the author is able to make that clear through hints and clues, rather than just outright saying it. It adds a depth to JK’s character that often gets missed in fics, especially because we know these guys so well, so to speak. Having those sort of subtle nuances really adds to the overall enjoyability of the fic. I think Jimin is such a great supporting character too. He’s the perfect mix of Jiminy Cricket and devil in your ear, so to speak, and his personality comes off as so honest to who he is canonically. It makes him so fun to read. (And the YoonMinSeok trio is helpful as well, what can I say, soft spot for poly even in side pairings). All in all, it’s just an absolutely stunning fic so far and I can’t wait for the author to continue it.” [anon]

UKIYO by Sharleena [AO3]

— Summary; A story of tender tides and unmoving hummingbirds.

bookclub; review

“I'm almost halfway into this story but I really have to rec it cause wow...if you like mafia and urban fantasy themes then this is THAT fic for you listen succbus jimin, mafia leader yoongi, a damn deeply laced mystery that I can't EVEN FREAKING FIGURE OUT I usually can connect a few dots in mystery stories sometimes bUT THIS STORY IS KILLING ME there is someone yoongi is looking for that's destroying his gang and he like DOESN'T FREAKING EXIST and I know once I reach the end I'll be like IT WAS RIGHT FREAKING THERE IN MY FACE lmao but seriously the authors' worldbuilding skills is freaking legendary and I'm always hoe for mixing different themes together and the mix of urban fantasy and mafia just ugh freaking beautiful. The Slow Burn is real in his fic, yoonmins' dynamics are annoying and frustrating as heck but can be really sweet sometimes because they're both very broken individuals and they're trying to find comfort in one another. The themes are obviously very dark so carefully read the tags and also author notes in the beginning so you know what to expect but seriously it's so damn worth it and I will be personally putting a long feedback directly on their Ao3 as well when I'm done because i know I'm going to have lots more to say. BUT SERIOUSLY THIS IS THE SHIIIITTTT SO FAR SO GOOD SO DAMN GOOD I FEEL FED EVERYTIME I READ IT GIVE IT A READ WHEN YOU CAN!!” [@flowerwrites06​]

FAKE SUGAR by minverse [AO3]

— Summary; "I guess," Jungkook pauses momentarily to inhale a deep, bracing breath, "I would just want you to come to my work events and laugh at my jokes and don't correct people if they imply that we're doing it.""Having sex, you mean," Jin clarifies gently, and Jungkook chokes on air. If his face was any redder, Jin would insist on taking him to the hospital. Jungkook clears his throat, obviously trying to play off the strangled, choked sound as a casual cough."Yes. Doing... sex."

bookclub; review

“I love a good concept for fic, and a face sugar dating  au sign me up!!! honestly this is one of my all-time favourite fics, cos its not only funny and entertaining but it has so much heart!!! like i just love the vibe of the fic, and i wish i could keep reading it forever. Plus the characters are so like-able and feel so human. Also jinkook holds a special place in my heart, and jk being all shy in the beginning and jins confidence is an unmatched pairing!!! EVERYONE JUST READ IT, ITS SO FUCKING GOOD, okay im done now sorry…" [@tinysweetscrown​]

“I read this a while ago, and also everything else by minverse... Everything they write is gold, the character construction, the dialogue, the relationship/chemistry, the humour, the plots...just everything. Fake Sugar kept me up at night with its brilliance and originality, i couldn't get enough of jin and jungkook's relationship, but also all the other members' interaction and storyline. It's expertly written and i sincerely think everyone should read it, if they have not already.” [anon]

“Aaaaaah i love this so much!!! I absolutely love the characterisation of jin!!! I find it very refreshing! In some ways it’s completely /jin/ yet in others it’s such a nee and fun way of describing him (the fact that hes a competition eater absolutely sends me its just. So! Jin!) i also love jungkook!!! Tiny gay babie kook having to impress ppl he doesnt want to impress and getting competitive over that dindjdjd once again i could genuienly see it happening! And oh boy oh boy am i excited to see how this story pans out! The little appearances by the rest of bangtan as well i love it! It all flows very naturally and none of the cameos feel forced or anything. AND JIMIN UDJDJDJD I LOVE HIM. the fact that hes just a chaotic brat having dumpster sex and causing trouble oh my god im still crying jsbsjsnjs.” [anon]

The Drabble-Game; MASTERLIST

— prompt; “Romantic attraction is literal: characters feel a pull like gravity to people they’re attracted to. The bigger the attraction, the harder the pull.”

Thank you to everyone who participated! Stay tuned for the next theme of the month to participate!

NUMINOUS written by @softjeon​ & @cassiavioletblue​

— Summary; “You’re fucking kidding me, are you?” He looked up at the ceiling and made an annoyed face. “You really want me to suffer do you? Stupid universe.”

— Join the Bookclub here! — official post — faq

[hallie-fics]

author spotlight - restlessqueenx

“If you get yourself killed doing this,” Harry murmurs, his hand on the back of her neck, his forehead warm where it's leaning against hers, “I will never ever forgive you.”

- Someday I’ll Need Your Spine to Hide Behind @restlessqueenx

it’s not hard to note the fics that define a fandom. this author has written three, three defining stories. the amount of love and respect i have for them is immense, and i was honored to be able to ask and receive answers for these various questions regarding everything from their writing process to favorite hallie headcanon. 

this is only the first in a series of interviews done with hallie authors. if there’s anyone who you’d like to see, please message me and i’ll get that sorted out right away!

the q&a

*quick note, I tend to shorten my titles when talking about them because I always pick such long titles, so I may refer to Someday I’ll Need Your Spine to Hide Behind as “Spine,” It Feels Like Winter Follows You Around as “Winter” and Screaming at the Stars as “Stars”

Favorite of your stories (and why)

I think, at least right now, it has to be Someday I’ll Need Your Spine to Hide Behind, because it’s complete. Also, because Winter (Harry’s POV) wouldn’t exist without it (I had never intended to write it, and it just sort of happened), and Screaming at the Stars is probably more in the vein of what I normally write, but I can’t decide how satisfied I am with it until I wrap it up.

Easiest story to write

Probably Screaming at the Stars because it just sort of showed up as this emotion in my chest and I knew I wanted to put it down on the page. Spine was pretty time consuming because it’s canon divergent and I was constantly having to check scenes to get the dialogue/descriptions right. I wanted to use as much of canon as I could, but that meant that I couldn’t really write it if I wasn’t home with the episodes available. Winter was (is) difficult because of how dark of a headspace I sometimes have to get into with Harry. Stars is overall a much lighter emotional space to access.

Hardest story to write

Spine, just because of how much work it took to weave the canon with the canon divergence and reframe scenes. Winter is easier because (even though it does include some scenes that aren’t in Spine) I have the blueprint of Spine to refer to, and I reuse some sections of it word for word to highlight the difference in POV when it diverges. Winter is definitely emotionally heavier, but it’s less tedious work.

Pre-writing process (if any)

For me, it depends a lot on the fic. With Spine, the very first thing that came to me was “What if I wrote a soulmate AU where the only thing that indicates that is that wherever you fall asleep, you always wake up where your soulmate is?” Then I thought, “Could this be set in the canon universe? How would that potentially just twist around or change what we’ve seen?” And everything spiralled out from there. I didn’t really outline initially, I started writing it, just to see where it was going. Then I ended up having to go through every episode and watch each Harry, Allie, and Hallie scene and write basic outlines of the dialogue and what happened in those scenes so I could start to figure out how to adjust the scenes/story to fit the soulmate AU idea. I’m not very patient about outlines, so I mostly just bullet point brief descriptions of what I need to write and then re-examine the scene as I’m writing. I’ve never written something that relied so heavily on canon before. It’s a lot of work and I’m really impressed by people who do it regularly. So Spine’s pre-writing was basically an idea on a twisted trope (I don’t know if I’m the first person to think of it, but I’ve never read a soulmate au with the basis of Spine before) and then watching/transposing the canon scenes. Winter didn’t really have any since I had Spine as a basis. Stars I started thinking about while taking a shower and I just jumped right into it.

What drew you to Hallie?

I love ships that I see potential for, but aren’t all neatly worked out immediately in canon. And I love ships that I feel the characters have a lot of potential to grow and change as individuals within the relationship. I was a little unsure about Hallie at first as I was watching the show, because it took me a while to work out how I felt about Harry in general, but I just see so much potential for a great story between them. And, to be quite honest, Kathryn and Alex just have loads and loads of on screen chemistry, they just light up with each other in scenes. Sometimes actors just have that with each other and it’s almost hard to look away.

Hopes for season 2

Growth and help for Harry! I’m okay with having to wait for romantic Hallie (presuming we get more seasons) as long as keeping them apart feels organic and true to the story (and not done solely for tension & keeping the audience coming back), but I need to see Harry receive help (I get that he can’t get professional help in these circumstances, but he really needs people who are genuinely looking out for him and trying to help him) and to also grow as a person and make better decisions/amends for some of his actions. I want Harry to have friends/people who actually care about him. While I really love Kelly’s character, and appreciate that she’s tried to keep an eye out for him, I think Harry needs people in his life outside of just an ex (and obviously outside of Campbell) and that’s pretty much all he’s had for a while. Harry’s so isolated in season 1, and I don’t see him being able to develop much (in a positive manner) if he continues to be so isolated in season 2.

Favorite line (or lines) that you’ve written for a hallie fic/ a section that you’re really proud of

From Spine, probably my favorite pieces are-

Allie tells him to leave like it matters, like come morning she won't find herself curled in his bed, close enough to feel his body heat. She tells him to go, because she wants to hate him, thinks she deserves to hate him, but she doesn't. And that's even worse.

And then the end, which I wrote long before I actually got to it. Specifically-

“There's probably a world somewhere,” Harry says, and his voice rumbles through his chest, against her skin, “where we never worked any of this out, and you and I are on opposite sides and always will be.”

“Probably.” It wouldn't be hard, she thinks, to have ended up somewhere else, anywhere else. They fought for this, a small sliver of peace in a fucked up world. It might be all they get.

“I'm glad it's not this one.”

“Me too.” Under her cheek, his heartbeat is steady, in sync with hers.

From Winter my absolute favorite section so far is the flashback to Harry when he’s 13 & deals with his familial relationships. I also am pretty happy with-

Allie is simultaneously fragile and hard as steel, one for a moment, the other the next. Harry doesn't understand it, how she can bear to wear her feelings to blatantly on her face, how she survives without a protective shell to keep her safe. He could never do that. She doesn't burrow down inside herself, she burns. He almost can't even watch it. Harry doesn't know what he is, but he knows Allie is something else entirely.

And-

She lets out a little shaky exhale. “I don't know how to hate you.”

Harry wonders how that can be. It's easy, he wants to say, if she doesn't already, all she needs to do is crack open his ribs, see that dark void yawning underneath, that place he falls into. But Allie isn't like him, even her darkest moods and thoughts are full of fire, casting light. Allie burns things down, she doesn't swallow them up.

He tells her the truth, one he's known for a long time. “I do.”

And, finally-

She's not starlight or sunlight or candlelight, she's a forest fire. When she leans into him, skin fever hot and her nails biting into his shoulders, he wonders if her inferno could burn the darkness right out from behind his ribs. Harry thinks he could be reduced to ashes, but he'd still let her try.

From Stars, I’m a little less sure, but I do like this part-

Just outside the doors, she catches a glimpse of Harry, head thrown back, laughing, his friends crowding close to him like moths to a flame, like they can't help it. Harry's always been magnetic. Allie remembers his face in the moonlight, the way she'd felt compelled to lean closer. It wasn't her fault; if you get close enough to Harry, he draws you into his orbit, planets rotating around a sun, basking in his light. Even now, her feet ache to drift in his direction. Those aren't her friends, he's not her friend anymore, but his gravitational pull is strong.

What type of Hallie stories do you like to write/read? (canon divergence, modern au, soulmate au, etc)

I’m an AU girl at heart, which is ironic considering 2 of my 3 Hallie fics are canon divergent. But really, I’m a big fan of AUs, almost any of them, I love them so much. I think I get more and more attracted to them the further I get into a show (the more seasons) because canon gets more confining as you have more of it. I think the kind of AU I like the most depends on the ship. I like soulmate AUs (obviously, I wrote one, lol) for Hallie because they have a history of not being super fond of each other & it’s a great way to force them to interact.

Favorite Hallie trope?

I think…. maybe Bed Sharing? You may notice that I write it into like everything I write ever. I just love the intimacy of it and the conversations people can have late at night in the dark or sleepy in the early morning. I dunno. It’s a thing for me, I guess.

Favorite Hallie headcanon?

I haven’t written it into anything (yet), but I have this mental picture of Modern AU Hallie getting really competitive about playing boardgames with each other. That has a soft spot in my heart.

How long have you been writing for?

Pretty much as long as I can remember. The first thing I can remember writing (like thinking I was seriously writing something people would want to read) was this ridiculous story about unicorn royalty when I was about seven years old. I never finished it, but I think I actually did write like at least a couple thousand words before I quit. I have hundreds of beginnings of original works, literally several hundred, but most of them are only a few hundred words. My parents always encouraged me to write, so it was just something I did pretty much ever since I physically could.

How has your writing style evolved over time?

Oh, I’m not even sure where to begin with this. Because I’ve been writing since I was really young, it’s definitely evolved a lot, some of it just through age and getting a better grasp of language, and some of it deliberately. I think when I was younger, I tried really hard to mimic the styles of writers I liked, and I’ve definitely moved away from that as I’ve gotten older and found my own voice. I’m not trying to sound like anyone in particular now. That’s not to say I don’t find other writers influential, I certainly do, but I’m not actively attempting to write in someone else’s style. I think everyone who writes is always evolving. You can’t help but be influenced by everything you read and absorb.

Do you ever worry about how your stories are received?

All the time. I only have 3 works on the restlessqueen AO3, but I think I’ve posted about 25 fanfictions over various platforms/accounts for various fandoms and ships, and I get nervous about them every time. Whenever I write something, I usually get this glow of like “Oh, I’ve done something and I like it!” and then that sort of slowly wears off and I start to just question everything about it. I don’t know anyone who feels 100% confident about the stuff they post. I think I’m a little less nervous about it than I used to be, because people have been very kind to me for the most part (I have one old fic from around 2012/13 that got a couple of comments that still haunt me a bit, but other than that I’ve had good experiences) and so that’s helped ease some of my fears. I think what makes me the most worried now is when I post something and I just don’t get much feedback or it takes quite a while for responses to roll in, because I’m always thinking like “is it really so bad no one has literally anything to say?? Is it that bad and I didn’t realize it?” Also, I’m a bit insecure about my descriptive writing, I feel like I don’t do a very good job of describing location/setting, and it’s something I’m working on. I’m always a little scared someone will say they basically just didn’t get any sort of mental picture from what I write.

What’s the hardest part of writing for you?

Focus. I have so many ideas always bouncing around my head, but I get distracted super easily. I can’t ever seem to only do one thing at a time. If I’m writing, I’m definitely either listening to music or sometimes even playing a podcast in the background because it’s like if there’s any free space at all in my brain, I just completely lose my ability to do anything. It’s a big struggle for me. I actually write with the most focus when I’m supposed to be doing something else. I wrote 150k worth of an original piece by writing when I was supposed to be taking notes in history class in high school. In fact, a lot of my fanfiction has been written during lectures, because somehow if I’m supposed to be focusing on something else, I’m almost always the most productive version of my writing self. I wish I were different, though.

Do you get writer’s block and if so how do you deal with it?

Ugh. Unfortunately. I’m not great at handling writer’s block, tbh. Sometimes I just don’t write for a long time. I think reading can sometimes oust me from it, but not always. The worst is that occasionally I have to just push through it and write my way out of it (which basically means just writing really uninspired crap until I manage to find some inspiration again). I do think that talking to someone about what I’m working on is a big help, though it’s not always an available option. I’m part of a writing group, and I usually feel really inspired after we’ve had a writing discussion.

Biggest risk you’ve ever taken as a writer?

Wow, this is actually a really hard question. I feel like I’m not a big risk taker, and this is making me wonder if maybe I should try to take more writing risks. I guess most recently it could be creating the restlessqueen AO3. I made it because I have written quite a few fics for a pretty large fandom and I had gotten comfortable within that space and I thought it would be good for me to step outside of that world for a bit. I think it really has been, too.

again, the biggest of thanks to @restlessqueenx for doing this with me! to anyone who hasn’t read any of these fics, please do so immediately. each of them are amazing and i will never step recommending them!

[mustloveshera]

so. this isn’t directly sh/e-ra related; in fact, i’d say the sh/e-ra fandom handles this way better than other fandoms that i’ve been in. that being said...

i’m really frustrated with how criticism towards cringe culture is being framed. instead of acknowledging the underlying ableism that the culture thrives on, some allistics create these perfect victims who have done nothing wrong and are actually totally “normal” (notice how they emphasize that it’s “normal” behavior for a kid at whatever age they deem appropriate, rather than that there’s nothing wrong with the behavior at any age). the same approach is used with anti-bullying campaigns in US high schools; their poster child is always some totally “normal” kid who gets bullied “for no reason”, even though the overwhelming majority of bullied kids are bullied because they’re not “normal.” that isn’t to say that mocking kids for being kids isn’t also a major factor in cringe culture, but that’s not the sole factor being identified here. 

allistics need to realize that mocking someone for their narrow-scoped passion/enthusiasm/rambling/attention to detail that’s often labeled as “cringe” in fandom is mocking autistic traits, and by extension, autistic people. it doesn’t matter if the specific person is autistic or not. we see you and we know that you are not someone we could trust with that information anyway. 

it’s not helpful even if the subject of their mocking isn’t displaying autistic traits (for example, toxic stanning culture, harassing creators, etc.). regardless of intent, statements like, “stop being such weirdos, enjoy things casually like normal people!” are still insulting towards autistics, because the target is passion and enthusiasm directed towards a special interest, very common traits for autistics, rather than their actual complaint about fandom toxicity. 

we’re often the ones writing the fandom’s favorite metas and filling up the wiki pages and compiling all the data and making it easier for allistics to create their own content and understand all facets of canon. so many allistic people happily consume the content that we provide, and that’s great! i can’t tell you how validating it was to experience appreciation for my “weirdness” when i started writing meta for fandom--and i can’t tell you how crushed i felt when i realized fandom would happily mock me outside of those acceptable confines. 

i’ve never gotten as much pushback or hate in fandom as i have when i dared to headcanon a character as autistic. allistics said we were ruining the character. allistics said there must be another explanation, that being autistic was too harsh and horrible. allistics insisted that the character wasn’t “stupid” and thus couldn’t be autistic. they were so repulsed by the idea. allistics even sent me hate anons, something i had never experienced before. someone i knew went on a devastatingly hateful rant on a “progressive” discord server about how much they hated autistics and their autistic headcanons and everyone just went along with it.

the silence is deafening, even in so-called progressive spaces where LGBT+ headcanons are embraced without question. (NO, i, an agender lesbian, am not saying that LGBT+ people are more hostile towards autistics. i’m saying that progressive spaces where i would otherwise be welcomed for other facets of my identity often reject me on ableist grounds.)

TLDR: autistics make significant contributions to fandom, and we’re often appreciated for that up until we step out of the “normal” zone that allistics have the privilege to establish. allistics consume our content in one turn and mock us for our enthusiasm that fuels that content in another. even if we don’t make any significant contributions, we should be treated with respect like any other person, because, contrary to popular belief, we are human. it’s great that there’s finally pushback against cringe culture, but failing to recognize the role that ableism plays in this would be doing the autistic community a disservice. 

[colorofmymindposts]

Hope for the Stars

Fandom: Doctor Who 

Pairings: Twelfth Doctor/Missy

Warnings: Major Character Death, Alternate Ending to series 10, Major Canon Divergence, Description of a Corpse 

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Status: Complete but part three of my The Doctor Falls series. Reading part one is pretty optional but I definitely recommend checking out part two before reading this. 

Word Count: 2134 

Chapter: 1/2. 

Summary: A final goodbye between the oldest friends in the universe seems as though it's the last chapter. But with the Doctor, every end comes with a beginning.

Tags: Heavy Angst, Messy Feelings, Coping with Death, Funeral, Grieving Missy, Twelve is very dead

I don’t know if the tagging system is still messed up, but you can read this work on ao3 under my username colorofmymind! Kudos and comments will be much appreciated!

The silence is deafening, save for the intermittent low hums of the TARDIS. Her hands drift and glide over the console as she circles round it, making no effort to start for any destination. A destination would require a plan. Missy has none.

What was the original plan, exactly? Redeem herself in everyone’s eyes, and then? No more tentative friendship. Renew their pact. Midnight, with the stars and him. It had been absolutely too vague, almost totally meaningless. And yet it was something. Now, there is nothing, no friend, without hope, without witness.

“Without reward, indeed,” Missy chokes out, voice hoarse from disuse and grief, realizing now she never precisely knew what that meant until this moment. Her death at least would have allowed her to escape from the shallow, crude reality of it all. Missy makes the mistake of looking down at the Doctor’s lifeless body. The sight alone is enough for her hands to tremor, knees to buckle, eyes to water and weep openly, now that the privacy allows for it. It takes much more time than she’d like to find the lapels of his jacket, fisting them in her hands for purchase. It doesn’t do much other than prevent her from strangling him, or herself.

“You absolute imbecile!” she cries out, venom behind each word. “I would have stayed here, the Vault, anywhere you would have liked for the rest of those thousand years! Two thousand even. You’d be there at least. You’d be alive.

But we were always so impatient, weren’t we? We couldn’t keep to the confines of Gallifrey or the Vault. We just wanted the universe. I wanted you.” Those last three words fall out her mouth without her permission, and she knows full well what she communicated with them. The humans always wait, desperate for that confession, that one word: love. There isn’t even a comparable translation for it in Gallifreyan; what is the need of such a word to Time Lords? Time Lords are supposed to have two hearts that are full of nothing.  

She wants to rip her hearts right out of her chest, stamp them into mincemeat under her boots, and wail with the confidence and indignity of a newborn babe until she keels over. Or maybe she could cut her hearts out, carefully, scientifically, and transplant them into the Doctor, make him breathe, live again; he could cry over her body, but at least that’d be familiar for the both of them.

Death is for other people, dear. Missy said that, once. She never dreamt that the Doctor would number among the others.

The grip she has on him slackens. With complete gracelessness and depravity, Missy collapses on top of him, her chest on his, face burying into the crook of his neck. The endless propulsion of loss and guilt wracks her body; the tears flow out as quickly as the notes to Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 20 in D minor K. 466 - 1. Allegro, one of the Doctor’s favorites that she used to play on the piano. The piano he gifted to her. Missy cannot form words even if she tries. So heavy is this sense of finality, and she’s drowning under it. Her friend is dead. Time levels and undulates and then ceases to be around them, and all Missy is aware of is the uncontrollable shaking and the gasping and crying like she’s being gutted from the inside out for existing at all and the fact that he’s gone, gone, gone forever and she’s the only one left...

It’s some time later that Missy finally awakens next to the Doctor, colder than he’s ever been. It’s not really him, she reminds herself. His essence, the playful and wonderful mind, they’re gone. Could she reclaim them, she would. She should, really. It’s the least she can do when this whole monumentally stupid test to prove herself was the very reason they had found themselves in that disaster, created by her former self, no less. Resurrection has its risks though, this she knows. The potential for a miscalculation or chemical imbalance is extremely high, and his entire body could irrevocably malform; of course the safer alternative, transferring the consciousness into a living host, is something the Doctor would have never even entertained whereas the Master had, ever so frequently when in a tight spot, regrettable now in retrospect.

The stinging pain in her back and abdomen from the Laser Screwdriver has lessened slightly with her rest, but her eyes feel terribly sore and dry from what was probably the greatest lapse into emotional breakdown of her life. There are no more tears to cry, now. Missy picks herself up, squeezing the Doctor’s hand before standing only to find it has become extremely stiff with the onset of rigor mortis. The realization leaves her nauseous and quite wishing she hadn’t done that.  

That does bring up the present dilemma. What to do with his body. A Time Lord’s body, particularly the DNA, would be a precious asset to almost any alien species. Burial and cryogenic freezing are right out then. The Doctor will have to burn.  

Somehow, she still manages to hobble over to the TARDIS console with that thought on her mind, pulling on the levers and buttons by mere muscle memory. Already, Missy has the perfect idea for the location for the Doctor’s funeral, a strange thing to be sentimental about, but if he were still part of the universe, she thinks he would appreciate it.  

“I’m almost certain you never prepared for this, my dear,” Missy begins, completely aware that the Doctor can no longer hear or respond to her. “I’m not talking about death, no, you practically begged for it when you were feeling particularly morose. What comes after is what I mean. Did you really think you could lie on a battlefield and that just be the end? It should take no more than a few centuries for a human exploratory crew or some other ship to find you with all your DNA and unleash terror on the universe. That just won’t do, not when you’ve put so much work into the place.”

The whole monologue was meant to calm her down, but she’s made an all too rational point. This is a universe without the Doctor, and it has been such a very long time since that was the reality. What will happen now, without that man roaming the stars, trying to bring kindness and goodness to the places and people he visits? As flawed as he could be while doing it, a small voice inside her offers.    

“Because one day everyone's just going to need you too much.” Bill was right. The universe will never survive without the Doctor.

The TARDIS hums somewhat admonishingly, and suddenly the psychic link is made between her and the ship, and a flurry of images and memories are the sole occupiers of her thoughts: the TARDIS landing unannounced and needing help for some unknown reason, Missy’s constant maintenance of the TARDIS, Missy trying to find a way out of the TARDIS doors to help the Doctor and his companions when he was about to sacrifice himself to the Cairn gate, and the moment she stepped out of those same doors declaring confidently “Hello I’m Doctor Who.”

Oh. Oh.

Missy smiles and tuts quietly at the now reicent sentient machine. Being, she corrects herself mentally. After, she and this Type 40 are going to have to get along if this is to work.

“You knew well before any of us, didn’t you? Oh, you clever girl,” she purrs.

The ship creaks and groans upon arriving to their destination. In all fairness, this is the most hectic point in time and space besides the literal end of the universe, and Missy’s been there before. Placing the stabilizers on as a precaution, Missy retreats down one of the corridors, hoping she’ll find what she’s looking for.

“Ah, there you are,” she says upon finding it. The casket’s exterior shines just as brightly as the wood from whence it came: the silver trees of Gallifrey. Adorning the side panels are the traditional Gallifreyan rites for the deceased. Measurements in this case are not necessary; Time Lord technology has once again thought ahead to accomodate for any particular regeneration--the dimensions are bigger on the inside. It’s a difficult task for someone of her stature and injured status to not drag the damned thing on the console flooring, but she manages it for the Doctor’s sake alone.

Upon placing the casket next to him, however, she cannot seem to find the strength in the moment to lift him into it and send him away for good. A hand of hers secures itself on one of the handles on the console to ascertain that she does not collapse again.

“Well, this is it then. Me, Missy, your oldest friend, assisting you with your death. Goodbye, effectively for the two of us. What am I even saying,” she finishes under her breath, beginning the process of lifting the Doctor’s body into the casket. For appearances’ sake, she brushes off the lingering dust and debris off his coat and trousers and face, though it won’t matter for much longer. No one else besides her will be viewing him, and he’ll be crisper in just a few minutes than she ever was back in the old days. From underneath the console, Missy locates four hover discs, placing one at each end of the casket to ensure his departure is as seamless as possible. For some inexplicable reason, she is unable to close the casket lid. There is something she must say first.

“We made a pact once, you and I. We were going to see the stars together and abandon all the trivial troubles of Gallifrey. But something went wrong in the plans. We went on separate paths. Well, you went on your own path, and I followed you. I followed you everywhere I could,” Missy confesses, tangling her fingers in her Doctor’s curls. “In some ways, I wish...I wish I hadn’t woken up from that shot, the one I should have died from. We both could have been dead martyrs together. Wouldn’t that have been nice? But I understand now why I couldn’t...join you. I never got the chance to, did I?” Her voice escapes her for several moments, and she blinks away the forthcoming tears she previously didn’t know she still had.

“Standing with you...was all I ever wanted, too. Thank you, Doctor, for trying. It worked. I am standing for something now, after this and evermore, and I’m sure it will kill me someday, for good.” Missy pauses to collect herself. If she’s giving him a closing testimony she’s making sure it’s a damn good one.

“This is the last chance you have to announce you’ve miraculously survived before I send you off into Dante’s Inferno, just so you know.” The silence that follows is answer enough to her request.

“It actually isn’t Dante’s Inferno. That place isn’t real. You wanted the stars, so I brought you to them. Every single one.”  

In a few quick steps, Missy is able to pull the doors open, revealing that they have indeed reached the intended destination. Gas clouds are just beginning to circulate and weave their ways, nebulas are brewing stars within their wombs, and galaxies expand their territory among the vast devoidness of empty space. The constellation of Kasterborous is just a few hundred million light-years away from forming.

“It isn’t the moment, not the singularity that started it all. Although, it’s reasonable enough to presume you’ve already been there. We’ve entered the structure formation period of the Big Bang, when stars began existing,” she explains.

“No star ever existed before this point or would be able to exist without this moment. Your casket will fly into one of those stars and burn with its light and passion, and your atoms be dispersed all around the universe and help bring life to all of creation. I think without a doubt this is the best surprise party I’ve ever thrown for you,” Missy claims, placing her hands on her hips with a certain sense of self-satisfaction in this truly bizarre and dizzying ceremony.

The casket hovers just by the TARDIS doors. All she has to do is guide it out, and discs will direct it over to that red dwarf star, his final resting place. With a certain solemnity and poise Missy has never reserved for anyone in her lives, she seals the casket shut.

In a whisper, hushed so only the infant forces of the universe behind the two of them can hear, she gives the Doctor her final farewell.

“Goodnight, my dear friend.”  

[onlymorelove]

fic:  Where Do You Go? (2/?)

Title: Where Do You Go? (2/?) Fandom: Teen Wolf Relationship: Liam Dunbar/Theo Raeken Characters: Theo Raeken, Liam Dunbar Summary:  Theo needs a shower.

(Takes place a few weeks after the Anuk-Ite is defeated.) Rating: T Tags: Post-canon, Character Study, Sharing Clothes, Touch Starvation Chapter Title: "but I was looking at his hand."

Tagging @candidamay at her request. If anyone wants to be tagged or untagged for updates, just let me know.

Read under the cut or on AO3.

[Part 1] or [Part 1 on AO3]

“Hmmm . . . Someone’s supposed to be in school. So why are you at home right now?”

Liam shrugged, and the side of his shoulder bumped up along Theo’s. “I felt like skipping bio.”

“Liam Dunbar played hooky?” Theo clicked his tongue in mock disapproval. “You juvenile delinquent, you. Someone’s been naughty.” He winked and shook a finger at Liam. “I like it. I'm almost impressed. Didn’t know you had it in you.”

“What can I say?” A better man than Theo might not have noticed how broad Liam’s shoulders were as he spread his arms wide and shrugged in a questioning gesture. As it was, Theo knew he wasn’t a very good man at all. “I contain multitudes,” Liam said.

“Apparently,” Theo muttered under his breath.

“Now can we skip the witty banter and get to the point?”

He tried not to stare at Liam, really, he did, but the stupid navy shirt he wore drew Theo’s attention to his stupidly blue eyes like a magnet. “But I like the witty banter.”

“So do I. It’s kind of our thing, but . . .”

Before he could smother it, a spark of pleasure flared to life in Theo’s chest at Liam’s acknowledgment that he enjoyed their back and forth. Our thing, he’d said. Theo’d be lying if he said he didn’t like the sound of that a little more than he should.

A frown cut across Liam’s face. His fingers snapped a few scarce inches from Theo’s nose. “Cut the crap and focus on the issue.”

“Which is what?”

“I walk in and find you asleep in my kitchen, wearing the shirt I haven’t been able to find for weeks now. So what’s up, Goldilocks? Why are you here?”

A smirk plucked at Theo’s lips. “Well, baby bear”—he shouldn’t have called him that, but the temptation proved too strong for Theo to resist—“this chair isn’t too big or too small; it’s just right.”

In lieu of a reply, Liam rolled those stupidly blue eyes, balled up the empty potato chip bag, and beaned Theo square in the nose with it.

Before the impromptu missile could hit the floor, Theo laughed and caught it one-handed, and set it back on the table.

Thinking on his feet was second nature to Theo by now. The lies he might concoct to explain his presence in Liam’s house started to click and whirl within him. But his head felt like it was stuffed with an entire bag of cotton balls, and Liam stared at him, eyes clear and steady, pulse a metronome, waiting. Under that unflinching blue gaze, something in Theo unclenched. “I came here to take a shower,” he said. The words tumbled out with a sigh. He flicked at the chip packet. Weariness tugged at his bones, as inexorable a force as gravity. Sometimes the truth was the simplest answer.

“Why? What’s wrong with your shower?”

He steeled himself for the inevitable barrage of questions. “I don’t have one.”

“You don’t have a—” Liam’s words cut off, and his nose and eyebrows scrunched in an expression that was fifty percent deep thought, fifty percent constipation; a laugh bubbled up in Theo’s chest at the confusion drawn over his familiar features, but he swallowed it at the last moment.

Liam looked—adorable, his mind supplied; like something worth adoring—but Theo wasn’t in the habit of thinking that way about anyone, least of all this little wolf with eyes that rivaled the sky on a cloudless day, the Pacific and its salt-scented breezes, or some other patently sentimental bullshit.

Sentiment was worthless. Sentiment got you killed. Or worse, for there existed a plethora of things worse than outright death. These were lessons from the Dread Doctors’ Advanced Placement curriculum for living your best life, and Theo had learned them at their feet; at the pointy end of their carnival of surgical instruments.

Theo’s hand lifted. Reached toward Liam’s face. Stopped an inch away when he caught himself and consciously reasserted control. “Careful, Scooby Doo”—he circled his index finger in the air, indicating the vertical grooves between Liam’s drawn-together eyebrows—“if you do that often enough, your face’ll stay like that.” His eyes widened for dramatic effect. “Forever.”

“Shut up.” Liam’s hand pinched Theo’s sleeve and pushed his hand from his face. “And don’t call me that.”

“What? Scooby Doo?” Theo asked, voice lit with unassuming innocence, and waited to see if the arrow hit its mark. (He didn’t have to wait long; he rarely did.)

“Why are you such an idiot?”

“Takes one to know one, Scooby,” he taunted.

A scowl rippled across Liam’s face, and Theo didn’t bother to hide his grin. The scent of Liam’s irritation wafted to his nose, widening his grin. It was so irresistibly easy to dart in and lodge a barb under the other boy’s skin.

Theo’s forearm landed on the table, and Liam’s fingers slid down from his sleeve and snagged Theo’s wrist, fingers poised in a loose curl around the bones there. The smile faltered, then dropped from Theo’s face entirely, like a heavy curtain had fallen. Liam’s thumb stroked, slowly, only once, under the frayed cuff of the hoodie. Theo’s heart juddered in his chest; it was probably asking too much to hope Liam didn’t notice and wonder about its cause. Lady Luck rarely took his side. Maybe this one time ...

That touch, it didn’t mean anything. To Liam, it was merely a casual thing; a split-second glance at his face confirmed he likely didn’t even realize what he’d just done.

It doesn’t mean anything.

But it hurt Theo. It felt like blood rushing into limbs that had lost circulation, causing pins and needles. The pain zinged along Theo’s nerve pathways, lighting them up when they’d been dormant for what felt like eons. It hurt worse than the crunch of bone and cartilage that had nearly forced tears from his eyes when Liam had broken his nose three times at the old zoo.

Because this wasn’t a punch; a kick; a bullet; a claw; a scalpel.

Those things he could heal from.

This was Liam.

Liam, who didn’t know—couldn’t know—he wielded a weapon against Theo.

He was a weapon.

Skin skin skin.

Liam’s skin.

The torturous glide of it against Theo’s skin.

Bruising. Tearing. Ripping through Theo precisely because the pressure felt light, barely-there, natural and easy. Easy like the rise and fall of Liam’s smiles and frowns. The ones that flared and blinked like fireflies in Theo’s consciousness when he lay poised on the steep edge of sleep in his truck every night, quiet and so very alone but for the galloping cadence of his mind and his sister’s heart.

This was jumping into frigid water and feeling everything freeze. Limbs, muscles, blood, bone, and sinew, all these things transmuted into ice while Theo waited . . . Waited to adjust. Waited to breathe again.

He wondered if being born felt like this; a cataclysm of too-bright light that made him want to slam his eyes shut and hide in cool darkness, and an excess of sensory input the brain struggled to assimilate and make sense of.

He inhaled through his nose, hard.

One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi, four Mississippi, five   Mississippi, he chanted in his head, so he wouldn’t fling Liam’s hand away from him; so he wouldn’t flip over his arm and clutch Liam’s hand like it tethered him to the world.

Freak. Pull yourself together. It doesn’t mean anything.

Followed by this damning thought:  But I want it to.

Inside the solitary confinement of his own mind, where no one but Theo could hear them, his wolf and his coyote howled and bayed, low, mournful sounds issuing from their fanged maws.

If those fingers stroked the pale, vulnerable inside of his wrist again, it would be over.

Don’t do it. Don’t. Don’t. Don’t.

Do it. Please. Please. Please. Keep touching me. Please. Please. Please. I need this.   This could break him if he allowed it to, Theo acknowledged to himself in a keen-edged moment of clarity. Liam could break him if he allowed him to, and he wouldn’t need to use even a fraction of his considerable bitten-werewolf strength to do it. “Awww . . . Liam, if you wanted to hold my hand, you could have just said so,” Theo said in a near purr and watched Liam’s fingers fly from his wrist like he’d been burned. He’d reacted precisely as Theo’d expected him to; he found it a cold, Pyrrhic victory.  

Despite the mocking grin Theo forced his lips to form, a terrible emptiness lay over the place where Liam had touched him. It smarted like a fresh brand. He wished— He wished Liam had never touched him; he wished Liam would touch him again. Two contradictory impulses warred inside him, and if someone put a gun to his temple right then and forced him to choose, Theo couldn’t say which one would win out. Theo flexed his hand, then laced his fingers together in his lap and cracked his knuckles.

How was he supposed to forget what he’d just remembered—how it felt to be touched by another person?

“If I . . .” Liam yanked at the collar of his shirt, his movements graceless and jerky. A finger scratched at the corner of his mouth before he settled for folding his arms tightly over his chest, fingers jumping against his shoulder in an irregular beat. It made Theo’s fingers twitch where they rested against his knees. Liam cleared his throat before he continued speaking. “If I wanted to hold your hand, I would’ve just held it.” Slashes of pink angled high across Liam’s cheekbones, but his gaze met Theo’s without flinching. “Why? Do you want me to hold your hand?” Something like the hint of a challenge sparked in the depths of Liam’s eyes.

Theo searched Liam’s face for signs of mockery but found none. The question settled in the space between them. It gathered weight and seemed to grow larger the longer it sat unanswered. Theo caught his lip between his teeth. His throat clicked as he swallowed against the desert dryness there. Though he scrambled for a snappy retort, aware of the awkwardness that fizzed and bubbled and grew with each passing second of silence, any words he might have spoken died in his mouth in the face of Liam’s steadfast, unblinking scrutiny. Theo hadn’t anticipated this sort of reaction from him.

Theo looked away first.

He’d underestimated Liam.

When he dared to peek at Liam again, he found him staring back at him, a determined set to his jaw. “It won’t work,” he said, and there was a discordant note (of disappointment, maybe?) in his voice. It made heat flash at the back of Theo’s neck. When had he started to care if he disappointed Liam? “I know what you’re trying to do.”

“Oh, and what’s that?” Theo asked, careful to keep his tone cool and light, even though his thoughts were anything but that. “Maybe you’d like to enlighten the rest of the class.” With narrowed eyes, Theo pushed his chair back from the table and folded his arms behind his head, aiming for casual.

“You’re trying to hide something from me.”

“I’m not hiding anything.”

“Really?” That one word carried a wealth of skepticism. “Yes, really.” Theo shrugged, letting his eyebrows echo the movement of his shoulders. “I’m an open book.”

“Yeah, of course you are.” Liam huffed a laugh edged in something bitter. “Fine. What kind of place are you staying at that doesn’t have a shower?”

“Be careful what you ask. You sure you actually want to hear the answer?”

“Yeah. I’m sure. Tell. Me.” Liam shifted, angling his chair toward Theo. He rolled his hand in a get on with it motion.

Theo’s hands dropped to his thighs with a clap. “My truck.”

“Your truck.” Liam’s mouth dropped open, and Theo couldn’t help the small flicker of satisfaction that shimmered at this evidence of Liam’s surprise. Theo watched Liam puzzle it out. He could pinpoint the moment Liam put it all together; the moment when questions, half-truths, and speculation finally coalesced into understanding. His brow smoothed out, but his hands shook as they rose to scrub over his mouth and then his cheeks. “You’ve been living out of your truck,” he said quietly, enunciating each word with great care. “You’ve been living out of your truck,” Liam repeated, louder this time, his shoulders held stiff.

“That’s what I said.”

“How long?”

“Since you brought me back.” The words plinked like pebbles skittering off a high cliff, falling and falling until they hit the ground with a distant, barely perceptible ping.

“Fuck!”

Theo flinched at the explosion of sound and looked past Liam, calculating how fast he’d have to move to get around him and out the front door.

“Kira’s mom told me you were my responsibility. And you were.” Liam’s hands clenched in his hair as his voice started to climb. “You are. My responsibility and I fucked up and I’m an idiot and why didn’t you fucking tell me, Theo?” The last words came out in a shout.

“I didn’t come here for this, Liam. I didn’t come here for your self-righteous anger or whatever this is—”

“Self-righteous anger?” Chest heaving, Liam blinked rapidly. “Oh my god, I’m an idiot for sure”—he jabbed a finger at his own chest before pointing it in Theo’s direction—“but you, you’re a fucking moron. You think I’m mad at you?” Liam roared.

Liam was stronger, but Theo was quicker. He could probably make an exit before Liam was on him. As he prepared to move, Theo’s muscles tensed. Some part of his thoughts must have shown on his face, however, because Liam’s mouth snapped shut with an audible click a moment before he placed a hand on Theo’s sleeve, stilling him when every instinct he had screamed at him to get out.

“Whatever you’re thinking about doing, don’t do it.” While Liam’s pulse hammered, the pace far too rapid for calm, his words were quiet, even gentle. Control still didn’t come easily for Liam, but the fact that he was still fighting, still trying, and often succeeding, made a twinge of pride rise in Theo’s chest before he cursed himself for being the worst kind of fool and suppressed it. “I’m not... mad at you. I mean, I am, but mostly I’m pissed at myself.” A harsh breath pushed out through Liam’s mouth, ruffling the hair that fell over his forehead. Theo wanted to brush it back, wanted to discover if the strands were as soft as they looked in the sunlit kitchen. If he’d been a different person; if he’d made better choices; if he’d deserved someone like Liam, then he might have reached across the chasm between them. “But you’re right, you didn’t come here for this. You came here to take a shower.”

Theo’s stomach growled, louder than the endless torrent of thoughts churning in his head—loud enough that supernatural senses weren’t required to hear it, and Liam released his light grip on Theo’s sleeve. “You came to my house to shower”—Liam pointed at Theo’s traitorous stomach—“and you’re obviously hungry. You’ve been noshing on salt and vinegar chips, which, ew, disgusting.” And just like that, some of the tension that sizzled and snapped in the air eased.

“What? I like them. They’re good. You don’t know what you’re missing.”

“Yeah, I think I do. Dude, your breath reeks.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Shoving his chair back, Liam stood and motioned for him to follow. “Come on. I’ll get you some stuff. You can shower now.”

“Then what?”

Liam shot him a backward glance over his shoulder. “Then you can eat something besides stinky chips and may— Maybe we can talk some more.”

“Talk.” It fell somewhere between a question and a statement.

“Yes, talk. Don’t sound so suspicious,” Liam replied, and stopped walking. “Your mouth moves; some words come out. Most of them pretty stupid.”

“Haha. Hilarious, Liam. Really.”

Liam turned until he faced Theo head-on. “Not everything’s a battle, Theo,” he said, his voice pitched just shy of a whisper, driving a shiver up Theo’s spine. His crystalline gaze flickered from Theo’s eyes to somewhere lower on his face, then back up to his eyes again.

Theo fiddled with his duffel straps and studiously ignored how his stomach swooped at having Liam's attention focused on his features that way. “Most things are,” he replied, his voice equally quiet, and compelled himself to look straight into those stupidly blue eyes.

Liam reeled back like he’d been hit, eyes wide and mouth a shaky, downturned arc. His Adam’s apple worked as he swallowed. For a few heartbeats, Theo was certain Liam would say something else, but he simply shook his head, watching Theo with something immeasurably sad in his eyes before he turned and led the way out of the kitchen.

A/N: Thank you for reading this chapter. What do you think? If you have the time to share your thoughts with me, I would certainly love to hear them. As a writer, you never know how your words are affecting, or NOT affecting readers unless they tell you. Constructive criticism is always welcome, so even if something didn't work for you, feel free to tell me that. 

Regardless, be well. :) 

*The chapter titles are borrowed from Richard Siken's "Anyway."

[evakteket]

Watchlist update

December is super busy for a lot of us, and we have to admit we’re a bit behind on wips to add to the watchlist…

What’s more, there are several advent calendar fics going on now, and we’d like to draw your attention to two of them that we just haven’t had the time to put on our watchlist, so we’ll give them a shout-out here:

It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas by Teatrolley (@tenderlock)

Isak og Even - en julekalender by evakyaki, @pagnilagni and @friedaechte (Norwegian)

Both of these are lovely!

And now to the usual: When it’s been more than three weeks since a fic was updated we consider it to be on hiatus and remove it from the watchlist. However, we don’t cancel our subscriptions and if one of the removed fics gets updated again, we’ll put it right back on the list.

The usual II: feel free to send us an ask if you have suggestions for fics we should check out – even if they’re not Evak-centric!

Update summary:

Completed: 3 Added: 3 Removed: 4 (crossing our fingers it’s just December and various fandom events keeping people busy)

News:

Flashback; framtid by otherstories (Swedish) NEW

Future fic set two years after Isak and Even break up. They meet again, the story interspersed with flashbacks to when they were together (some you will find in Helgen v.37 and Relativitetsteorin by the same author). As you may expect from a break up and make up fic you will get emotional. It’s well crafted, and if you can read Swedish this and the two previous fics are well worth reading. - immy

doorway back home by hippopotamus (@evenshands) NEW

Ridiculously adorable Doctor Who inspired AU, where Isak is a time traveller with a malfunctioning time/space machine who ends up in Even’s bedroom, several times from Even is a small child up until he’s grown up. You don’t need to know anything about Doctor Who to enjoy this precious, funny, a little bit bittersweet fic, so go read! - immy

Nobody Loves Me Like You by @cuteandtwisted NEW

This angsty rollercoaster of a fic features blue-haired Even, an adorable relationship between Isak and his elderly roommate (not as weird as it sounds), and a heart-crushing Isak-parallel in the young Sigve. A childhood friends AU that will get you right where it hurts, in true cuteandtwisted style. Check the warnings. - kit

glovarm/iskald by liljesmoothie (Norwegian) COMPLETED

Complete, rec here.

all i wanna do is be near by hippopotamus (@evenshands) COMPLETED

Complete, rec here.

I Tveksamhetens tid by Always_and_ever (Swedish) COMPLETED

Complete, rec here.

Still on the watchlist:

Knock Four Times by @folerdetdufoler

Yes, this is a US college AU, and yes, Even is American in it! This is extremely well written, and heavy on the angst–we won’t spoil you, but we’ll say that, as in the show, there were parts of this that were so well done they sort of hurt to read. Throw in a long distance relationship between Isak and his boyfriend back in Norway, and you’ve got a cool twist on the college AU setting that feels very realistic and really drew us in. - kit and immy

Blood vs. Water by bri_ness (@brionbroadway) 

This author’s Big Brother AU was a gameplay treat, and this Survivor AU promises to be just as addictive and fun. We’re looking forward to another round of Snakesak playing the game, skilfully written nods to canon and messy relationships. There’s no need to have watched Survivor, the game is explained in the notes as you go. - immy

I skyggen av solen by Kudzibisa (Norwegian)

Charter holiday AU where Isak and Even meet on the plane. Isak is on holiday with his dad and little sister, while Even is travelling with Sonja, for one week of sun and sea and things getting in the way of spending time together. Norwegian charter tourists are perfectly portrayed in this, expect to cringe a lot if you can read Norwegian. - immy

Legitimate Expectations by @champagneleftie In this AU Isak is a lawyer specialising in matters of freedom of the press, and the setting seems wonderfully real. His life as a successful young lawyer (with some interesting SKAM character colleagues) is all neat and tidy, until there’s an Even-shaped spanner thrown in the works. Beautifully written, this is perfect for fans of grown-up Isak and Even with careers. - kit and immy

Like barn leker best by Kikki1 (Norwegian) 

In this AU, student Isak has just broken up with his boyfriend, but he knows Even from school and is not a fan. Since his crap boyfriend is (mostly) out of the picture Isak needs a roommate. Enter Mikael. An engaging story featuring an annoyed and a bit weary Isak, amusing rather than angsty, and quite realistic about being a young gay man in Oslo. A very satisfying read for those who can read Norwegian. - immy

You’re my (arche)type by @evakuality

This is a fairytale AU that isn’t based on a specific story, but rather on the archetypes found in fairytales worldwide, where the interaction and characterisation is shaped by the archetypes each of the characters belongs to, and by the struggle against the confines of the archetypes. It’s an interesting and very well written take on nature vs. nurture and rigid societal structure, and the characterisation is wonderful. - immy

Hjerterytmer og ekstraslag by Without your breath (@livreddare) (Norwegian) Hospital AU where Isak is a nurse and Even is a surgeon in training at an emergency department, packed full of realistic detail and gorgeous slow burn (so far). I adore the characterisation in this, and it’s always a treat to read a well-written AU in a setting the author knows really well. If you can read Norwegian, don’t miss out on this. - immy

Forsvarlig behandling by Frieda Echte @friedaechte (Norwegian) In this hospital AU get-together, nurse Isak gets a patient (oh yes) with a somewhat annoying girlfriend (oh no) tagging along to the ED. Vividly detailed, engaging and funny, this promises to be a very special treat for those who can read Norwegian. - immy

Alphabet Aerobics by @nofeartina 

Rating: explicit. And is it ever. There are 26 letters in the English alphabet, and the author has set out to write 26 chapters of pwp, one for each letter as Isak and Even play a letters sex game. And yes this is smutty, yes the plot is virtually non-existent, but there are feelings and character development as well as very well-written, imaginative smut. - kit and immy

a careful hypothesis of the heart by StMisery 

This AU, while not extremely Norwegian although it’s set in Oslo, shows Isak and Even as co-workers who inch their way from quite a bit of dislike for each other towards, well, we would be very surprised if Evak isn’t endgame. Engaging and entertaining as the guys slowly make progress, and featuring an adorable Magnus. - kit and immy

[femslashrevolution]

I Am Femslash: Mod Jess

This post is part of Femslash Revolution’s I Am Femslash series, sharing voices of F/F creators from all walks of life. The views represented within are those of the author only.

(Thank you so much to those who suggested my name. You’ve made my new year! I do want to give a TW for some discussion of my personality history of alcohol, disordered eating, and mental illness...don’t worry, I got a happy ending!)

There’s a movie called Gold Diggers: Secret of Bear Mountain that I watched about a thousand times as a little girl. I wore out two VHS tapes (one of which my mom stole from Parrot Video and Tanning Salon for me in 1995). It was about two girls, Beth (played by Christina Ricci) and Jody (played by Anna Chlumsky), who meet over the summer and go on a treasure hunt together. The first time I watched the movie, I was three or four years old, and I was immediately attracted to Jody.

The thing was, I had an Uncle Jody, so I thought that was only a boy’s name. So, to me, Jody was a boy, and he teased and got a rise out of Beth, and I adored it. Then my mom told me that Jody was actually a girl—she just had short hair and wore tomboy clothes. I was so upset, and I don’t know why!

I know now, of course, that I was frustrated that Jody couldn’t have been flirting with Beth, because they were girls, and girls only did that with boys. So why did they make me feel like that? What had gone wrong inside of me to make me want that?

Despite my love for this movie (which is now cited for it’s amazing lesbian subtext), I absolutely did not think I was a lesbian growing up. I had no idea. I was bookish and shy and very feminine. I assigned myself strategic crushes on quiet, distant boys who were so far out of my league that there was no chance of anything actually happening.

Even fandom was a pretty male-centric place starting out. My introduction to online fandom actually began in the mid-2000’s with the Fueled by Ramen “bandom”—emo/alternative/rock bands like Fall Out Boy and Panic! At the Disco. I crushed on boys with slim hips and long hair and fingernail polish, boys who weren’t afraid to be feminine. It wasn’t very friendly towards women, and femslash was quite a foreign concept. But…the more feminine an artist was, the more I was drawn to him. I became quite enamored with Adam Lambert during his American Idol season because of his makeup and hair, and because, though he wasn’t out yet, I knew he was gay. I only ever was attracted to gay men, and I think this was similar to my unattainable crushes in grade school—it’s not as if anything could ever happen with them. They were safe.

Then, a little show called Glee popped up out of nowhere.

It seems normal now to anticipate pairings like Clarke and Lexa or Alex and Maggie on network TV. They’re possible now. Sure, there was Tara/Willow, but they were a bit before my time, and Arizona/Callie, but Grey’s was a little above my age bracket. But then there was a slow pan upwards from two pairs of sneaker-clad feet, four legs entwined with matching red cheerleading skirts, and my heart began hammering, my breathing quickened, I got all sweaty and cold at the same time.

It was happening, it was happening. Brittany and Santana were queer girls, and they were kissing, and it wasn’t a joke. I was a freshman in high school and knew so little about the world.

From then on, I was in the femslash fandom, confined to our desktop computer in the kitchen. Brittany/Santana gave way to Quinn/Rachel, who became my OTP. Many of my favorite fandoms weren’t femslash juggernauts (Emily/JJ from Criminal Minds was a big one for a while), but I always found small spaces with other femslash lovers. However, I was in the middle of writing a Criminal Minds high school AU that featured both Emily/JJ and the smaller pairing of Hotch/Reid. I received a firm, angry review from someone who wondered why I wasted my time on femslash when people only read for my slash pairings. They said femslash wasn’t really a thing in fandom.

I quit fandom for three years after that.

In that time, I still identified as straight, and to this day, I don’t know why. I was only attracted to women; I was not attracted to men except in the abstract. I was growing bored with straight romance movies and books. I sought almost exclusively LGBT media and I still do today. But maybe I thought it was a phase. Maybe I thought I’d grow out of it. Maybe I just didn’t care, because I was anxious and depressed, I battled intrusive thoughts and dissociation every day, I binge ate and drank, and I had a wicked nicotine addiction.

I got into college, moved out, and I still identified as straight. I loved college and completely flourished creatively, academically, and socially. I quit smoking, changed my style from very feminine to relaxed and tomboyish, and stopped wearing makeup. I won several writing contests and read hundreds of books. But my drinking got worse and so did my anxiety, no matter how happy I thought I was. To make matters worse, I drank alone—I partied with my friends and had great times, but my drinking was a solitary thing. Because if I drank around my new friends, I might say something. I might admit something to them. I wasn’t ready for that. But it took me a long time to realize that when I drank alone and blacked out on my dorm room floor, I was just trying to hold off from admitting something to myself.

It took me a long time to come out. I won’t bore you with what is really a very boring story, but I will say it was very difficult but I received a lot of support from many people. Due to this, I can’t help but feel much of my high school and college experiences were wasted due to my being closeted.

Around this time, I got into the Teen Wolf fandom, which is still my biggest fandom experience. While there were no canon femslash pairings, there was still a thriving femslash fandom that I got involved in right away. I then found Once Upon a Time and Orphan Black years later—two fandoms that I joined mainly because of the main femslash ships.

And the only way I noticed those ships was through this awesome new blog I found called Femslash Revolution. I knew I had to get in on the action, so I contacted Lulu, the amazing person who made it all happen and guided me every step of the way. There would be no blog without her—that’s a given. She’s the woman behind the curtain, and we owe it all to her. Looking back, I can’t believe how small we were back then, and that was only a few years ago! Our pairing tags fit on one page, and we got the chance to spotlight fandoms with popular femslash content, including relatively new fandoms like Orange Is the New Black.

Now, I am out and proud. I’m a published writer. I have also written over 900 individual pieces of fan fiction. I live comfortably and easily. I started medication for my mental illness and by necessity stopped drinking, which was the best thing that I ever did. I am in recovery from my eating disorder. And through it all, this blog has been here. Clarke Griffin has been here. Alana Bloom has been here. Santana Lopez, Alex Danvers, Cosima Niehaus, Poussey Washington, and Amy Raudenfeld have all been here, smiling and laughing and crying along with me, filling me with their strength and inspiration and the idea that we exist, and we aren’t going anywhere.

And you guys have been right here, too. I hope you stick around for a long, long time.

About the Author: @freshbrainss

By day, I go by Jess. I love cats, coffee, and Minnesota winters. And why, yes, I am single. You can find me at AO3 and on LJ. I also mod for a LJ drabble community called femslash100, so if you’re a writer, come and play with us!