That viral post that's going around about how people who write "book quality" mlm fic are too "normal" to publish and have real jobs so only "weird" people publish their "shitty" fanfic is so completely out of touch with reality and I am giving a massive side eye to everyone reblogging it.
Not only is it completely, easily verifiably untrue (you cannot enter any professional writing space without tripping over a dozen grizzled scifi writers who got their start by filing off the serial numbers and publishing their Star Trek fanfic even going back decades ago??? it's a whole thing?? plus how can you look at the mlm category on Amazon right now and say with a straight face that people aren't publishing shitty Spirk and Stucky fanfic??? Oh, honey...) it's also the perfect example of this kind of sneering elitism that true artists would never sully themselves by seeking profit, they do it only for the purity of the thing that always somehow leads back to, "no one should be paid to make art, actually."
The only reason you're seeing more published fanfic right now has nothing to do with the idealistic purity of your hypothetical government employee written smut of the past vs the debased scribbles of those awful straights of today and everything to do with the fact that a) self-publishing has created a voracious readership that wants a ton of content so it's become a viable, flexible income stream for many, especially disabled people b) anyone can publish now with self-publishing tools so there are less gatekeepers and c) lockdown got a lot of people into fandom and therefore writing who never tried it before.
And if you really think there's no "shitty" published mlm and no "book-quality" m/f writing out there that started as fanfic, then you are clearly not a reader so why are you even talking about this?
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Decembhyur Day 28 - Love
A/N: This is a snippet of a larger piece but not all of it would fit in the conditions of the prompt. So I chose the love confession itself, which is shorter, sweeter, fits the conditions of Decembhyur much better, but I will link the whole piece on ao3 + independently post it on a later date. I just really wanted this scene to be for this prompt, even though it wasn't written with it in mind!
“In Ishgard,” Artoirel starts, “to announce our serious intentions in pursuing someone, we court.” Nika squints. And Artoirel stands before him and swallows again. “Please let me finish, Nika. Ordinarily it would lead to marriage, and ordinarily we would not have slept together beforehand, but this is no ordinary situation. But I do wish to– to court you. To show you I am serious. We don’t have to say anything yet.”
Artoirel reaches for Nika’s hand, yet allows his fingers to dangle in the air. Nika looks down, away, anywhere but Artoirel’s face, and pouts.
“We can just try and see where this leads us,” Artoirel offers softly. “I want to think this meant something for you. I want to think that I mean as much to you as you do to me.”
“You do,” Nika says after a while, almost inaudible. Artoirel’s hands itch to wrap around Nika’s, yet he refrains. Not yet. Not until Nika gives his consent. He will not force his affections on him. Yet, Artoirel can’t look away from the emotions that fight on his face, from the way he trembles. Artoirel trembles too, the patter of his heart drowns all other noise but Nika’s voice, and his stomach ties in innumerable knots.
They sit like that for what feels like an eternity, on the precipice, ready to walk away or fall together. Eventually, Nika lifts his hand. Artoirel squeezes it.
“We can give this courting thing a chance,” Nika says, breathless. “Because, I–we– yeah.”
Artoirel breathes out. “Fury take you, Nika,” he mouths, and kisses him. Nika rises on the tips of his toes and kisses him back, draws him close, and Artoirel holds onto him, his grip strong enough to almost lift him off the ground.
When they part, Nika’s eyes are wide and round, as they were last night. Artoirel’s cheeks burn like a furnace, but he doesn’t care; it’s his first day of courtship, as unusual as it may be. He can’t find it in him to let go of Nika, and if it were up to him, he’d rather see Eorzea aflame than let Nika go to save it.
He knows Nika doesn’t like that anyway.
Frankly, Eorzea doesn’t matter anymore. What does is the way Nika clings to him, and the way his hair smells, and the warmth of his body against Artoirel’s. What matters is them watching the city move about, away from it all, standing by the window together. Together.
The rest of it really does not stand a chance whatsoever.
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