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shegatsby · 3 months

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Heyy! Its me again haha. I really wanted to thank you, this turned out really good!♡

I also have another idea..

Okay so reader is Will's cousin and they are visiting Will, Hannibal doesn't know and decides to pay Will a visit but he's currently at the store so he starts talking with the reader and they find out they have much in common like being fans of arts, opera and cooking.. and then reader says they are applying for a job in Baltimore as maybe an arts teach or smth. And 5 to 6 months after that reader meets Hannibal again in a museum of arts, they again start talking and catching up, exchanging numbers and staying in contact for awhile until Hannibal gets 'captured' and then of course everything that happens after that, Hannibal tries contacting reader in that time but it seems as reader blocked him.. and then I thought that maybe it would be like after the fall that Hannibal finally gets in contact with reader and they finally start building a romantic relationship!^^

So yeah thats my idea. I really hope you like this idea and can make something of it. Your writing is like honestly amazing and I would be really excited if you would do this considering the other one was so well made.. I wish you a wonderful late new year and to everyone else aswell! <3

A/N; I cannot believe I've finished this while listening to Justin Bieber -Maria lol Sorry its a bit long but i really enjoyed writing it. Also thank you for your kind words, i'm here to serve the fandom. <3 sorry for any typos since English isn't my native language. Oh, i hope you'll have an amazing year and i hope you'll heal from your past wounds.

words; 2.607K

warnings; mention of cirme, thats it. its safe kiddos.

You had to walk into the store in order to get warm and also buy groceries for your dear cousin. Will Graham. You were visiting him for a week and he asked you to cook your famous stew, in cold days like this a warm stew would cheer anyone up, so after breakfast you decided to get dressed and go to the store while Will was making cookies for his guest. You didn’t know who the guest was but he said he wanted you two to meet. You only nodded and left the house. Inside was warm, and smelled nice, you loved grocery shopping and cooking for people. It was your way of showing your affection towards beloved ones. You were in the wine section, decided to make some hot wine. As you were trying to reach to the top shelf you heard a calm yet dominant voice saying ‘’Allow me.’’ And on your peripheral vision you saw a man’s hand reaching for the wine you wanted. ‘’Here you go.’’ You turned to face the owner of that deep voice, ‘’Thank you.’’ You managed to say, observing his maroon orbits. Such a distinct color, you thought. ‘’Elegant choice. Most people don’t go for that brand.’’ He announced, Doctor Hannibal Lecter never made small conversations with people he didn’t know but when he noticed that this person knew a good quality wine he just wanted to chat. ‘’I’m making hot wine for today. This one is the best for that.’’ You said smiling, he smiled back. ‘’What is your go to choice?’’ he had this strange aura that made you want to talk to him, normally you would smile and say goodbye but he intrigued you to your core. ‘’If I’m visiting a close friend I pick this one, which that’s what I’m doing today.’’ You looked at the brand he was holding, ‘’I always admired the painting on that bottle. Such baroque colors.’’ He raised an eyebrow to your statement, ‘’I assume you’re interested in art?’’

‘’Always have been. Actually once the paper work is done I’ll start working in Baltimore with painters. They opened a studio and asked if I could work with them.’’ That’s when Hannibal noticed the small and dry paint residue on your dominant hand. ‘’I live in Baltimore and I hope to see your paintings one day at an art gallery. Good luck.’’ He smiled a warm smile which reminded you the sunset in winter, it gave you hope for the future.

‘’Thank you so much.’’ You said and you both walked to your separate ways. However, fate had its own webs to arbitrate in your behalf.

Once you reached to your cousin’s home you saw a car on the front yard, apparently his guest have arrived. You climbed the porch and used the spare key Will gave you. You could hear two man talking about a murder case, you knew what your cousin’s job was and he was so passionate about it that every week he would call you and tell you about a new case. In the entire family he chose you as his special blood connection. You two have always been considered as outlaws, or ‘’the freaks’’ and this made you more close to one another. ‘’I’m home.’’ You announced to let them know, just in case if they were talking secret FBI files. ‘’Come in Y/N.’’ you heard your cousin say with enthusiasm. You quickly left the bags on the kitchen counter and washed your hands, you had slightly cleaning obsession which Will never forgot to point it out. ‘’Hi!’’ you wore your warmest smile and walked into the living room which was at the back of the house and it had a door that opened to the back yard.

As soon as you walked in you saw that man from the store, sitting on the single armchair, holding a coffee mug in his large hand. You froze in your steps, watched him stand up, fix his clothes subtly and extend his hand towards you, ‘’What a lovely coincidence. Doctor Hannibal Lecter.’’ You took his hand, it was warm and manly, ‘’Y/N Y/L/N.’’ Will was puzzled but you explained to him quickly.

That night you asked him to stay longer and he helped you coking the stew and making the hot wine. 3 of you talked and explored new ideas about their cases, they were really keen on getting a fresh perspective from you about their recent case.

It had been months since that strange coincidence, since that you were working in that studio you mentioned to him and rented a small apartment for yourself and your cat. Things were going pretty smoothly and for the first time you and your team had an opening at the Baltimore Museum of Arts, it was an important night for you and you dressed up accordingly. Elegant yet showing your curves in a subtle way. A black velvet dress that was above the knee, black high heels, a fresh blow out, red lips and red nails. You felt like a goddess and walked like one as well. The event started at 8 pm, you were there with your colleges making sure everything was ready.

You were nervous so your colleagues greeted the guests who were mostly middle aged white people, you didn’t mind, since no one knew your face you could stand behind guests and listen their criticism about your work. It was fun, drinking your champagne and listening to rich folk who knew nothing about art making assumptions, some wondered about the artist but you were safe. You were standing right next to them and they didn’t know who you were. You had no idea about what was going to happen that night and that excited you deeply.

‘’Hello Y/N.’’ someone addressed you directly, for some reason you felt like a deer caught in the red lights. You turned to face the owner of that dominant voice, it was him. You almost dropped the empty champagne glass you were holding, he had a smirk on his plump lips. He grabbed your empty glass, a waiter was near you two so he gave the empty glasses to him got new ones, ‘’May I say you look ravishing tonight.’’ His comment made you feel the heat rising to your cheeks, ‘’Thank you, it’s been a while. How are you?’’ and you started catching up, he asked which one of the paintings were yours and you pointed, he looked at them for a while without saying anything, he seemed as if he was calculating something in his marvelous brain of his. Soon you were surrounded by his colleagues, he kept you by his side, ‘’I’m sure you would be delighted to know that those magnificent paintings were created by none other than this woman who is standing next to me.’’ He announced when his colleagues mentioned how much they liked your paintings, you were shocked that he revealed you to them like this, he seemed proud to have you to himself, the crowed started to compliment you all you could say ‘’Thank you, thank you so much..’’ you weren’t used to having the spot light. You could feel his large hand on the small of your back, not moving up or down, staying put. You felt like he was showing you off, but why?

When the night came to an end all of your paintings were sold, the owner would be revealed in a few days and you decided to send him or her a thank you note. Hannibal asked you for your phone number to keep in touch, he offered to drive you home also, you didn’t refuse because it was cold outside. As you left the building together you noticed his elite acquaintances raised eyebrows and questionable eyes, you didn’t care. You gave him the directions, it was snowing outside softly, when he reached to the parking lot of your apartment complex, he parked the car. You had a strange feeling that you didn’t want this night to come to an end, you noticed his slowness, maybe he felt the same way? You watched him opening his mouth to say something and then closing it. ‘’Would you like a glass of hot wine.. since it is really cold it could warm us.’’ You abruptly suggested, ‘’I would love to.’’ Was there a hint of excitement in his dominant voice? You didn’t want to jump into conclusions, he was older than you and seemed like a serious man, why would he want to have deeper connection with you? He had multiple beautiful people in his circle to entertain him… you decided that you two were in the right place in the right time and also Will Graham being your cousin made you two share a simple connection, that was it.

Thankfully your flat was organized and clean, he appreciated that mentally. He, deep down, was checking his long list ever since he met you, no one knew but Hannibal would like to share his luxurious life with someone and he had a long list, and whenever he met someone knew he would see if that person could tick all of the things in his list, you were doing great so far.

After making the hot wine you found yourself laughing at Hannibal’s stories with Will, you left your high heels on the floor, sitting on the couch whereas Hannibal was sitting on the armchair, sleeves rolled up, his tie was loose, legs wide open, holding his empty wine glass, you found yourself admiring his posture, he sat like a Greek statue, carved by the most talented sculptor of all time. He noticed your lingering shiny eyes on his body, he even liked it,

‘’Being desired by someone is perhaps the closest anybody in this life can reach to feeling immortal.’’

He said, his voice sounding like a prayer, divine and his eyes on yours… he slowly stood up, placed the empty glass on the coffee table, you could see the veins on his hand. He turned to you and got your glass as well, placed it next to his. His thick fingers went to your chin, lifting your face up to meet his. His orbs got darkened, he leaned in, you could feel his rich perfume, filling your nostrils. He whispered, ‘’I would like to have you for dinner, see you soon little dove.’’ and he left.

Of course he wanted to kiss you, ravish your body and leave marks on you, claiming his territory but there was still time for that. He was an old fashioned man and he didn’t have time for superficial things, he wanted this to be right. Before he let you speak he wore his shoes and left your flat and left you speechless.

After few days you got a phone call, Hannibal invited you for dinner at his house. What happened at your house few days ago troubled the depths of your mind every single day. He seemed like he was interested in you but you weren’t sure.

You knew he was interested in etiquette, aesthetics, so you wore slightly formal clothing. A black pencil skirt, beige blouse and high heels, soft make up and you were done.

When he answered the door his face light up to see you looking divine, ‘’Please come in. I have surprise to show you.’’ He announced.

He held your hand and walked you to the upstairs, ‘’This is my study room.’’ He announced before he opened the dark wooden door, inside was lit with yellow lights, he was right it was his study room. The detail was that the walls held your paintings… he was the one who bought your paintings, all of them.. ‘’Rest are in my office, my clients love them.’’ He said smiling to you, ‘’Hannibal… I don’t know what to say….’’ You were overwhelmed with emotions. ‘’I really like your work and I want you to follow your dreams.’’ You turned to look him in his maroon orbits, you didn’t have to say anything, your eyes did the talking.

After that you kept seeing each other, his work and also yours made it hard but whenever you had time you spent time with him. Bringing lunch to his office or Hannibal sending your studio presents. However, these last week you heard nothing from him, he wasn’t answering his phone, he wasn’t at his office, when you finally went to his home he wasn’t there, but his car was there… finally you called your cousin Will and he didn’t tell you much except Hannibal was involved with some crime and he disappeared. You couldn’t believe your ears, you did your research, he was all over the news but deep down you didn’t want to believe it. Also the news weren’t clear about his crimes…

Weeks passed without any news from him, you spent your days at the studio and you noticed how dark your paintings got… when you were with him you were blooming but now you felt as if life dropped you of somewhere and you are watching everyone live, except you. Your life got stale.

One day your paintings were accepted by an Italian art exhibition but you also had to be there as well, so packed your things and left Baltimore. Will also encouraged you to do it, he knew how depressed you got after Hannibal’s departure.

Italy was a dream, a dream you were glad to live it, the warmth, food and art made you feel like in a Disney movie but a part of you secretly wishing to experience this with a particular gentleman. You didn’t know your prayers were going to be answered.

The night of the exhibition you got a phone call, unknown number. You answered, ‘’Hello?’’ at first there wasn’t a voice, you were about to hang up but you heard him, ‘’I’m so proud of you Y/N.’’

Your heart dropped to your stomach, it was him. Hannibal.

‘’Hannibal? Where are you? What happ-‘’ he stopped you, ‘’Not on the phone, I’ll see you after the exhibition. Wait for me at the back.’’

The night felt like an eternity, when finally you were free you literally ran to the back of the building and there he was, on his motorbike, he looked so different yet familiar at the same time. ‘’Hop on princess.’’ He made you wear a helmet and together you rode. He took you to a villa, it was his new home.

You didn’t say anything until he brought you inside, as soon as he turned to face you to speak you slapped him, ‘’How dare you leave without a single note? I’ve been worried sick!’’

Hannibal was baffled to see this fierce side of you and he liked it. He kissed you. His plump lips made you feel at peace. Kiss got heated due to the fact that both of you had sexual tension for each other so long that now you were a volcano exploding. His hands went to your waist and pulled you roughly to him, his body felt like a rock, so firm. When you pulled away you were on his couch, on top of him, ‘’Is it true?’’ you asked out of breath, ‘’What?’’ he asked to buy some time. ‘’All they say about you.. are you a criminal?’’ you asked with hesitation. He had a smug smile, ‘’Does it matter?’’ his cockiness and confidence made it hard for you to be realistic but you figured as long as you two were together nothing could harm you. You kissed him passionately.

Thank you for reading.

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difeisheng · 6 months

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Hey y'all. So, I love MLC fandom for a multitude of reasons, and one of them is seeing people come to pick up some of the same headcanons and potential story threads that I think about aloud here. It's amazing that occasionally discussions about these characters on this blog have inspired people to write or draw things of their own, spinning off from something else. Transformative exchange of ideas is part of what makes fandom fun for me. However, there's something I want to bring up for the present and future.

I consider this blog at its core to be a personal one. It's a place where I get to mess around and write down whatever rambling that comes to me. Given that I'm a fic writer, oftentimes I write down character thoughts as a kind of hold or saving for later, because I intend on expanding on them in some manner of fic. I am aware that this blog and my thoughts are public, and just to reiterate, I like sharing these thoughts! Seeing people take a piece of one post or idea I had and giving it their own twist, or as a springboard for a different fic concept, is great. But the emphasis on this is that it is transformative, and in some way separate from my original intention.

As a writer who does cherish their ideas, it is jarring to have someone show up out-of-the-blue in the replies of a concept post saying "I used this idea in my fic, as said in the tags of my last reblog". It feels worse to click on the aforementioned fic and see that specific details of that concept have been used without alteration. Credit is given in the author's note, but it is, frankly, ungraceful at best to phrase such a statement as "I stole [X] from this post on Tumblr. I did announce in the tags that I'd use it."

I am not mutuals with this person, and I do not read their fic. Declaring intent to (in their own words) steal an idea in the tags of a post does not constitute received communication, as I don't check the reblogs on every post, and Tumblr eats notifications half the time anyway. The wording of this statement tells me that A. this person is aware they crossed a line by directly lifting an idea from someone else without concrete prior interaction, and B. they do not particularly care.

I reached out to see if there was perhaps a misunderstanding that could be fixed, or a way to reword their credit. I would not force someone to change their actual writing after the fact, and MLC is a small, cozy fandom. I don't want to have conflict in a space I consider a safe haven among C-drama fandoms. However, the response was not constructive. I now have this person blocked.

So, in the future: if there's a story concept I've had that you would like to run with, and particularly if you want to draw on specifics from it, would you mind briefly checking in with me first? It can be a post reply, or a DM, or an ask. A good chunk of the time, I'll be okay! I just ask for decent credit and communication, and there are only some things I want to save for my own writing beforehand. They do exist, though, and I would rather not have them copied verbatim without my knowing.

The main principle here is not about arguing on what idea was originated by which person, but about extending a basic measure of etiquette and respect to other people who share this fandom space with you.

I wish this didn't happen. I do not want it to happen again. I like it here, I treasure this fandom and the friends I've made in it. So going forward, I request that you please don't do this.

#mysterious lotus casebook #ashton originals #housekeeping

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thedrarrylibrarian · 10 months

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Several people have been kind enough to let me publish their thoughts on fandom, community, and queerness to celebrate Pride in the Library. Today's piece is a conversation between @academicdisasterfic and his boyfriend, @saintgarbanzo. If you missed it, @saintgarbanzo organized a fundraiser to help support @academicdisasterfic with funds for top-surgery. This fundraiser has met its goal, and is referenced to throughout their conversation.

In this conversation, @saintgarbanzo is chickpea in bold, and @academicdisasterfic is rooney, in regular text.

chickpea: ok baby. let's talk about the gift economy in fandom. it’s something that's part of our politics but many of us struggle with feeling like our worth is tied to our production, even in fandom. has your fundraising experience changed your understanding of those concepts for you?

rooney: Short answer: yes.

Long answer: I think part of what drew me to fanfiction in the first place was a complete divide from capitalism. It’s such a relief in this world of productivity culture. I started writing purely because I loved it and I never thought anyone would read my fics. But then people did, and that meant everything to me. After this fundraiser, I truly understand why the gift economy is so imperative to fandom. People are doing me a favour by donating to my surgery, reading my fics, or writing fics that I love to read. It still feels overwhelming to have as much support as I did. I haven’t processed it at all, I can’t actually fathom it, and I initially had this dread about how I was never going to be able to repay the fandom for what it did for me - it’s not true for all trans men, but for me, this surgery will save my life. But fic saved me too, and I know the same applies to many. When I thought about it like that, I realised that I would do the same thing for anyone here, and it would make me happy to do it. I’d never think they had to pay off that debt. The difference between capitalism and the gift economy is that one is about power and competition, and the other is about the cyclical nature of community. Debts don’t exist, because we don’t give from a finite pool of resources. We give to each other from an endless pool of infinite possibilities.

chickpea: i had that same realization. initially the only way we felt comfortable asking for help was by offering an exchange, but then the exchange wasn't really necessary. everyone just offered up their resources–money but also their time and talent and attention. i go back and forth between feeling guilty/indebted and trying to remind myself that this is how communities are supposed to function and i can feel grateful without feeling guilty.

you talked about fandom's resistance to capitalism being an initial draw. what about its queerness? my first fandom interactions were very much based in fandom being a safe place to explore queerness. i want to hear about the relationship between your gender realizations and this community.

rooney: You know, I didn’t even think about it in that way - it was more, “I need a queer space, I want it to be a creative space”. It was so apparent to me, even before I knew I was trans, that whatever community I invested in had to have queerness at its core. Back in 2010 when I was figuring out my sexuality, fandom and shipping on Tumblr became really important to me, so I already knew it was there and when I started to explore it, that’s when a lot of gender stuff happened.

I think so many trans people have a more nuanced relationship with their body than is portrayed as the mainstream trans narrative of just being born in the wrong body. I worked very hard before learning I was trans to love and respect my body, and I’d never call it wrong. But reading about queer men fall in love was truly a lightning bolt moment. I’d always felt like an outsider in sapphic spaces - I’m bi/pan/whatever so I do really love women and femmes, that was never the issue - but I realised that I wanted my partners to be perceiving me differently, that I wanted to be treated as a queer man. I think the transgression and fight against purity culture in fandom was so crucial to it - the feelings of displacement and disconnection aren’t articulated the same way in published literature. One of my first fandom friends was @softlystarstruck who writes amazing trans characters with a variety of bodies and sexualities and genders. That sort of representation, of bodies coming together in all those different ways, specifically in sex, made me feel like there was hope - that transness and pleasure aren’t incongruent but born of the same instinct. We have to desire the things that will bring us joy.

chickpea: i love you

rooney: i love you too baby

chickpea: i love that you talked about displacement within queer communities. we've all seen and experienced queerphobia and racism, the demands for productivity, toxicity, discourse that's both helpful and harmful etc. you're someone in fandom who i really admire for the way you acknowledge and navigate the problematic parts of fandom while still focusing on building community in a healthy and joyful way.

can you talk a little bit about being a trans man who consciously decides to stay in hp fandom?

i’ve definitely struggled with my participation here and your fundraiser has brought up those arguments for me again, because we've harnessed this really material and transformative help for you as a trans person, that was carried pretty much entirely by this community.

rooney: Ooft, the big question.

First off I have to make it clear that I completely understand trans people who don’t want to engage with the HP fandom, because it’s a fucking hard moral and ethical quandary to navigate. But also, I don’t think anyone, including other trans people, should judge those of us who find the inherent transgression of fandom empowering and freeing. That’s my go to answer.

I understand the ethical problems of HP and its fandom. The series is just flagrantly racist. It’s heteronormative, homophobic, and all around “ethically mean spirited”, as Ursula Le Guin so eloquently put it. But it’s still something that I loved, and more importantly, the fandom is so strong not in spite of the series' flaws, but because of them. The more broken it is, the more there is to fix - and we’ve put in Desi Harry and Black Hermione, we’ve written whole essays on why Wolfstar is canon, we’ve taken terrible things like “house elves love to be enslaved” and written complex, thoughtful interpretations of the relationship between oppressor and oppressed. We’ve fucked with it all. Some hasn’t gone far enough, particularly in regards to the way we think about and portray people of colour. But overall, we’ve improved upon something without a single cent from that work going to J.K. Rowling. I find people in this fandom have had a much deeper understanding of the problems in the series for the longest, because we examine it so critically and closely.

No one’s perfect, but we’re all trying - at least, most of us are - and we’re doing things that make the lives of trans people and other marginalised people better. And I’m a trans person who can attest to that, and I know you are too. Universal maxims like “any engagement with HP is transphobic!” don’t even begin to understand what fandom is, what it does, and why it exists. (Those universal maxims also tend to be hugely influenced by Western morality and the legacy of Christianity)

And yes - my fundraiser, and how this community came together to support a trans person in need, really shows all of it in a tangible way. The people here are here to support and uplift those who need it.

chickpea; i often fall into the trap of feeling like if my resistance doesn't transform my oppressors then it doesn't count. i’ve written posts about racism in fandom and a lot of times i still approach it from the position of like, how do i make this palatable, if i just say it with the perfect tone then it will be more approachable and i'll like, convert the racists. i write it with the idea that i have to reach the unreachable. but over and over what i see is that those posts strengthen the people already on my side. and i think it's the same when we're talking about the effects on queer people of engaging with hp. like, a lot of times the argument is that our silly little stories don't translate into real resistance, because people think of "real" resistance as legislative changes and boycotts, as efforts that transform and educate or punish oppressors. and our trans fanfic isn't convincing any terfs that they're miserable pieces of shit. but it bolsters other trans people. it supports us as individuals in this community. i think that the emphasis on whether or not hp fandom engagement translates to "real world" resistance focuses too much on that idea of reaching the unreachable people. we're here and we're doing it for each other, and i *know* it's effective because every queer person i've met in this community has a story of being strengthened by a fic, or a post, or an illustration.

i want to bring it back to joyfulness in fandom. how has it encouraged you to cultivate more joy for yourself and others?

rooney: Honestly, I think that idea about remembering who we’re actually doing this for is so important. And also I believe we can plant seeds for change through joy. Because here’s the thing - change doesn’t originate from someone signing a piece of paper enacting legislation. That’s an important part, but that person enacts legislation because they represent their communities. Communities who believe joy is possible are stronger, because they have something to fight for. Joy is essential to resistance. I want to reach my community with my words and make them strong. And perhaps then those sentiments will reach further, because we will feel supported by each other and capable in our own lives of challenging bigotry and violence, knowing we are not alone. I am convinced that is how change happens.

But I don’t just want to be happy so I can fight better. I want to cultivate joy because I deserve it, because I’m a person. Transphobic rhetoric dehumanises trans people, and that disconnect from our humanity can be internalised; perhaps we don’t feel worthy of indulgence, frivolity, the whimsical and beautiful and luxurious parts of life. Fuck that. Every human deserves access to joy. Treating myself cruelly will not change anything about me - depriving myself of joy when I fuck up doesn’t make me fuck up less the next time, and it doesn’t help the people affected by said fuck up. But treating myself well, indulging my creativity and dreaming and desires, actually does change me. It makes me better to the people around me, and better to myself, which means I have more energy for others and myself, which means I give more - it’s the gift economy, it’s cyclical.

So fandom just makes me happy because it does. I love watching these dumb boys in love. And rather than try and analyse that or judge it, I let myself accept it, and go with it, purely because it’s joyful and life affirming and connects me with the world in a new and beautiful way. It’s really just the power of storytelling, I think - it calls to something primal in us. Maybe it reminds us that we’re humans in this world that wants us to be more like machines.

Fandom makes me joyful because it reminds me of my humanity, I think. With every fic I read or gorgeous artwork it’s like I’m accessing this part of my humanness that I have to keep segmented and separate from my work life, my life where I have to so much of the time be productive and disciplined. Here, I feel all of my flaws acutely and deeply, and all of my wonders, and it’s soul deep. How wonderful to be a human and to feel so keenly - how preferable to a life of trying to stay in the boring, lonely middle.

chickpea: your soulful intellectual rigor is very attractive

rooney: i think that’s my favorite thing you’ve ever said to me.

chickpea: a lot of times i have to frame my self-care and creative work in terms of resistance because that's the only way i can allow myself to have it. but you are so fundamentally right. cultivating joy isn't only for the collective, it's for me. i need to think about pleasure and joy less as a fuck you to the people trying to crush me, and more as a gift. giving yourself that gift of joy really does give that gift to others, and that's such a beautiful, community building action.

thank you for the reminder that being in community is about engaging with our humanity. it's a perfect conclusion to our whole discussion. humanity is gorgeous and gross and so is fandom and stories are reflections of that, and those reflections are so special to so many of us.

thank you for letting me trick you into processing your feelings.

rooney: for the record i encourage all of your attempts to trick me into processing my feelings.

Thank you both for joining me in the Library. I loved what you both had to say about fandom being a gift of joy to ourselves and community being a gift we give to each other. Thank you so much for the privilege of reading your conversation as a way to celebrate Pride in the Library.

If you want more @academicdisasterfic, be sure to check out his work on AO3! I particularly love his fic like the sun came out, because it so accurately portrays the way people who truly love each other treat each other - with gentleness and kindness and patience.

If you want more @saintgarbanzo, be sure to check out his work on AO3 as well! I love Sweeten to Taste because I'm always a sucker for a beautiful food description, and also because I love the thoughtful and nuanced discussions Harry and Draco have in this fic about justice and forgiveness and what we all deserve even when we've been wronged and when we have wronged others.

🏳️‍🌈 Lots of Love and Happy Pride! 🏳️‍🌈

#pride 2023 #pride in the library #pride in the library 2023 #lots of love and happy pride #friends of the library #fandom community #academicdisasterfic #saintgarbanzo

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linkysmommy · 5 months

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He Would Have Won

This fic was written for @abelflints for the Choices 2023 gift exchange organized by @oh-so-youre-a-nerd!

WARNING: Extreme angst lies ahead, ye be warned!

Fandom: It Lives Pairing: Lincoln x MC Word Count: 6957 Concept: What if Matthias succeeded in killing MC and made them into his anchor?

If you prefer Ao3, you can find the fic HERE.

The playlist accompanying the gift can be found HERE.

Tagging: @choicesficwriterscreations

***

He would have won.

If he hadn’t gone stupid and fallen in love, then he wouldn’t have panicked when he saw that gray-faced horror tear her teeth into Lincoln’s shoulder. He would have been able to turn away from the pooling blood that dribbled down Lincoln’s arm and focus on his fight. He wouldn’t have abandoned everything he was doing to get to Lincoln’s side, now, before it was too late and he bled out and this reason for living was gone.

But he had fallen in love, and he did panic when he saw Lincoln get bitten. He didn’t turn away from the sight of blood against gray fabric—he moved toward it. Mouth, frozen in a scream; hand, outstretched. He ran for Lincoln, he ripped the horror off of him, he threw her to the ground—

“Are you alright Lincoln?”

But he was no longer watching his back.

“Vax, behind you!”

Lincoln’s warning came too late. Vax’s breath hitched as a searing pain tore through his entire core. He looked down. A bloodstained knife protruded from his chest.

His mouth tasted like iron. His vision began to spin.

“No, Vax… no…”

Vax’s knees buckled, but Lincoln caught him before he hit the ground.

“No no no no no…”

Vax lifted a weary hand to Lincoln’s face. Speaking was difficult, but he managed to say, “Your— shoulder—”

Tears brimmed Lincoln’s eyes. “My shoulder is fine, don’t worry about my shoulder.”

Vaz coughed specks of blood. “Be— okay—”

Then Matthias was grabbing him, dragging him to the altar— Lincoln was being held back by Matthias’s minions— he was on his knees, begging his father to please stop this, to give Vax back to him—

And then… that was that. Matthias won. Vax was dead.

He would have won, if only he hadn’t fallen in love.

But he did. He’d never say it, of course, but anyone who knew him knew that’s what it was. It manifested by the way he worried over Lincoln’s shoulder, even as he was dying, or the way that he was always aware of what Lincoln needed and did all in his power to meet those needs.

Maybe it was this love—so endless and monumental—that led to what happened next, or maybe it would have happened in any world where Vax became Matthias’s anchor. But the facts were this: Vax was only sort of dead, and anyone who’d ever known him in any way, knew it.

***

(continued under the cut)

The sun had barely risen, its warm reds, yellows, and pinks glinting off the crystalline ocean surface, when the man sensed it: a presence, distant and altered, but unmistakable all the same.

He rose from where he lay in his bed, draped between two other sleeping bodies, and crossed the lavish room to stare across the beach and into the tranquil waves—to stare west. As he did, it appeared once more, a pulse in his chest, a tugging, a thrashing, violent and raw and furious.

A slight smile tugged at his lips. “I was wondering how long it would take you to awaken.”

The sheets behind him rustled as the man and woman with whom he had shared his bed began to groggily awaken. They were nothing, really, just some playthings to pass the time with, but in this moment they were interrupting something important. Something sacred.

“Are you alright?” called the woman.

Matthias turned to them, a cruel glint in his ice blue eyes. “Leave me.”

“But—”

“Now. Before I lose my patience.”

They knew nothing of who he had been, without the slightest idea of the power he held. But at the edge in his voice, they both obediently rose to their feet, their silken robes loose against their skin, and darted from the room.

Matthias was alone once more. Or was he?

He stepped toward the window and pressed his palm against the glass. “Try to wake up,” he taunted as the waves crashed against the beach. A distant sense of anger from a source so very far away crept into the air around Matthias.

All it managed to do was make him smirk. “You always were so very angry, weren’t you? I suppose that’s something that you and my son had in common.”

The curtains fluttered, though the windows were closed and no fans were turned on. Matthias chuckled to himself Even from the other side of the world, Vax’s power could still reach him. Yes, he had chosen his anchor very well, indeed.

***

The start of a new consciousness isn’t a sudden thing. It’s not like turning on the lights or opening your eyes, it isn’t darkness to brightness in an instant. No, it’s more like a sunrise; subtle rays of light dimly glimmering to life in the darkness until the entire sky gleams brilliantly from the sun.

And so it was no different for the sentience trapped deep beneath the earth in the mountains outside of Westchester—aside from the pain.

It started out as a dull throb, but the stronger the awareness grew, the stronger it became. It grew and grew, little by little, until the pain was blinding and all-consuming, a constant torrent of agony centered around one single point: the knife protruding from a heart that was no longer his. He was everywhere, and he was nowhere. He was looking down at himself in a pool of water—at the mess of his rotting, tattered clothes and dissolving, decomposed skin—and he was inside himself, looking up at a vortex of spiraling cyan.

Through the spinning confusion, only two things were clear: pain was everywhere, and his rage was burning hot.

Try to wake up…

The taunting words were distant, as if worlds away, but they struck him to the core. Fiery wrath exploded from within him and the cavernous chamber filled with cyan flames.

Y… o… u… the sentience thought. I… will… fi… nd… you…

His anger leaked out from the bottomless pit that was his existence, staining the air around him and shooting out in all directions. He was angry, he was alone, he was in pain, he wanted the world to burn, he wanted to hurt everyone the way he had been hurt—

Vax…?

A softer voice, a gentle presence, reached him, pulling all his attention for the briefest of moments before cutting through the fire within him and soothing him all the way down to his core. The anger dissipated until the only thing left was pain and the echo of a memory of having once loved…

***

Lincoln awoke to a gasp and an aching heart, the name of his fallen lover hiding in his lips.

The windows were streaked with rain, and gentle pattering sounded against the roof of his apartment bedroom. He sat up in bed, his loose hair hanging in his eyes, and took deep, calming breaths. The room was calm and dark, peaceful even. But he couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was truly, deeply wrong.

His dream… Vax had been in it, hadn’t he? Lincoln could only remember vague details—something about being angry, perhaps? and pain, too—but he had the sense that his dream had both been very real, and very important.

He reached for his nightstand and blindly fumbled in the darkness for his phone. He wanted to listen to the voicemail Vax had left him, a voicemail that he kept even now, more than a year after Vax had passed. It never failed to offer him comfort and warmth whenever he felt overwhelmed. But before he could grab it, it started to buzz, the screen lighting up and casting a soft glow across the room. His brow furrowed.

Who the hell is calling me in the middle of the night?

Lincoln grabbed the phone and squinted, his eyes adjusting to the light as he read the name: Abel Flint. He stifled a yawn, then answered the phone. Before he even had the speaker against his ear, he heard Abel’s frantic voice on the other end, growing louder the closer the phone got to his face.

“—need to know if you’re alright!” Abel was saying, his normally deep voice now higher and panicked.

Lincoln grunted. “The hell are you talkin’ about, Flint?”

Abel paused. “So you’re okay?”

“I’m about to be less okay if you keep blabbering like that. I was asleep”—Lincoln broke himself off with a yawn, only continuing once it had passed—“and you’re calling me at… 5:30 in the morning.”

Lightning flashed outside, briefly illuminating his sparsely decorated bedroom. On the other end of the line, Abel let out a relieved sigh.

“Thank god.”

Lincoln leaned back against the bed frame, the phone tucked against his shoulder. “Why? Were you expecting me to not be okay?”

“I guess you wouldn’t have heard about it if you were asleep.” Abel takes a breath, then says, “There was a pretty big earthquake in Las Vegas just a few minutes ago. If you turn on the news—”

Lincoln didn’t wait for him to finish. He was already running out to the living area of his apartment and turning on the TV. It immediately flipped onto the news channel, where the words BREAKING NEWS slowly scrolled across the bottom of the screen. The video displayed horrific destruction that made his breath catch: leveled houses, fractured streets, flattened businesses.

“I was worried something had happened to you,” Abel said quietly, pulling Lincoln’s attention away from the screen.

“No, I—I’m good.”

But he was rattled. That building there on the TV—he was certain it was a shopping mall he had visited just last week to shop for new clothes. One moment, everything had been calm and quiet, and the next, it was shaken with destruction. Snippets of his dream came back to him—fleeting recollections of the furious anger, and pain—and something inside of him felt that this destruction was somehow related to the feelings of that dream. It wasn’t without the realm of possibility, not with Lincoln’s connection to the Power.

“Are you going to be okay?” Abel asked. “Things look… pretty bad, Linc.”

“Yeah, they do.” And then, before he could stop the words from coming out of his mouth, he said, “You’re in Westchester right now for Mercedes’ birthday aren’t you? Maybe I’ll come visit for the next few days. Just until things calm down here.”

If Abel was surprised by Lincoln’s sudden willingness to return to Westchester, he didn’t show it. He just said, “Yeah. I think that’d be a good idea.”

They chatted a while longer about light things, like Lincoln’s clients at the tattoo shop and how Abel’s siblings were doing and then hung up. By then, early morning light was spilling between the cracks of the curtains blocking Lincoln’s windows. Slowly, uncertainly, he crept toward them, and drew the curtains back.

He gasped at the sight.

The sky was covered in a dusty gray smog from the aftermath of the earthquake, and even just down the street he could see signs of the destruction: palm trees were split in half and lying in heaps on the ground, cars were totaled, and the driveway of a nearby house was cracked in two.

“What could have caused this…” he muttered to himself.

And then, as if in answer to his question, one word came floating unbidden to his mind: Vax.

Lincoln fell back from the window, his heart racing. That made no sense. How could Vax be responsible for any of this? He was dead, gone, and even when he was alive, he never could’ve caused destruction such as this. But then a feeling washed over him—familiar in its cool aloofness and fiery loyalty. It was the feeling of Vax’s aura, an aura that Lincoln had never felt anywhere except for at Vax’s side.

Perhaps that was the reason he’d volunteered so readily to visit Abel. Not to get away from the destruction in Vegas, but to be closer to Vax, to uncover if this earthquake had any ties to the life force being preyed upon deep within the Westchester caves.

Whatever the reason, Lincoln dropped the curtains and turned back to his bedroom. If he wanted to get to Westchester before dark tonight, he needed to start preparing for the trip.

***

The sun was warm against Lincoln’s face as he stepped out of his hotel located on Westchester Main Street the following morning. He’d arrived from Vegas late the night before, and he still wasn’t sure why. There was no other place that he hated more than this town and all its ghosts, and yet here he was. Drawn in by something that he could barely understand and explain even less.

He may have been using the excuse of the earthquake, but the fact that he knew Abel was here for the next month, visiting friends and family, made it easier for him to come. There was Connor, Devon, and Noah, but their time together had barely been over a month, and despite Connor’s attempts to reach out, Lincoln hadn’t been the best at staying in touch.

There was Jocelyn, too… but Lincoln had barely spoken to her since the memorial. He knew he shouldn’t blame her—his father had spent nearly three centuries mastering the art of manipulation and she was such an easy target—but that didn’t stop the questions from plaguing his mind. If Jocelyn had told them about her deception sooner, what would they have done differently? Would they have uncovered the full extent of Matthias’s treachery?

Would Vax still be alive?

He shook away the thought as he climbed onto his motorcycle and drove the short distance to Westchester’s favorite diner. Abel was already there when he arrived, of course, long legs tucked under a corner table with a mug of coffee in one hand and a tattered old book in the other.

He looked up as Lincoln entered, and his face lit up. Lincoln waved, quickly ordered his food, and then joined Abel at the table. Before allowing him to sit, Abel insisted on a hug, which Lincoln grumpily accepted.

“It’s good to see you again, Linc,” Abel said as he took his seat once more. His trademark grin was stretched across his face, as if sitting in this breakfast cafe with Lincoln was the best thing that could’ve happened to him.

“Good to see you too, Flint.” Lincoln set his coffee on the tabletop—an americano with a few drops of honey and a hint of cinnamon—and slid into the chair across from Abel. The chair was made of uncomfortable black metal, and the legs were uneven lengths, making it wobble back and forth with the slightest shifts under Lincoln’s weight.

“I’m so glad you decided to come,” Abel said, his cup halfway to his lips. He took a sip, then continued, “Mercedes will be thrilled that you’re here for her birthday. She still mentions at least once a week to me how happy she is that we’ve made up, and she’s constantly begging me to have you over while she’s here so she can see you again.”

Lincoln raised an eyebrow. “...Why?”

“She missed you, Linc! We used to do such fun things with my siblings. Blanket forts, Mario Kart tournaments—”

“Blow up pools in the backyard, horror stories in the attic—yeah, I remember,” Lincoln said, a smile stretching across his face. “I guess I did spend quite a bit of time with them when we were younger. It’ll be good to see them again.”

Conversation came easily between the two men as they chatted over their coffees and pastries. Many other patrons came and went, but Lincoln and Abel stayed. First it was an hour, and then it was two hours, and they were still there, chatting about their lives and their friends. They talked about Amalia’s successful application to law school, and Jocelyn’s upcoming graduation, and Lila and Dan’s engagement, and Connor’s new auto body shop. They talked about all the things that had happened in the near decade that they’d spent estranged from one another: about Abel’s few relationships and Lincoln’s many flings, about Lincoln’s tattoo mentor who had grown to be like a father and Abel’s professor who had never stopped encouraging him from pursuing a PhD.

They talked until their cups had been empty for so long that the paper cups were now cold and the conversation finally lulled.

Abel leaned forward, an air of solemnity descended upon him as he crossed his hands on the tabletop. “So. I’m surprised you decided to actually come here. I wouldn’t have expected even an earthquake to be enough to get you to come back.”

Lincoln shrugged, and the damned chair rocked backwards the tiniest of bits. “Maybe I realized that it was time.”

“Maybe so.” Abel’s dark eyes narrowed, and Lincoln knew he could tell that there was something else he wasn’t saying. “But why? What’s your real reason for coming back here, Linc? I know it’s not the earthquake.”

Lincoln opened his mouth to claim that yes, of course it was the earthquake, but something stopped him. Maybe it was the earnestest in his oldest friends face or the fact that they’d just spent nearly two hours talking about their lives and all the things they’d kept from each other for years. But instead of following his deep-set instincts and pushing back, Lincoln said something else instead.

“Something’s happening to the Power. It’s different. I don’t know how to explain it but, it’s like Vax…” He trailed off. He never spoke of Vax to anyone other than the stillness of the night. Even after his funeral, Lincoln had remained silent, preferring the therapy of a bottle to the therapy of warm remembrance. Yet here he was, sitting across from Abel at a diner, saying the words that had been building up inside him for months. “It’s like… he’s still here. I can feel his presence everywhere.”

Abel was silent for an extended moment, giving space for Lincoln to continue. When he didn’t, Abel cleared his throat. “I know it was hard for you to lose him. It was hard for all of us. It’s only natural that you’d still feel him nearby.”

Lincoln groaned. “Don’t try to tell me that these are just my emotions playing tricks on me. We both know that my psychometry allows me to sense the Power and auras around me. Besides, you used to see literal ghosts.”

“Wait…” Abel’s eyes widened. “You mean you can literally sense Vax? In a psychometry way, not just a grief way?”

Lincoln rolled his head back with a groan. “I’m sorry, it’s stupid. I shouldn’t have brought it up. Yeah, I’m just here because of the earthquake, because—”

“It’s not stupid,” Abel interrupted, and one look at the solemnity in his eyes proved that he was being genuine. “You mean you think that Vax is sort of alive, somehow? Sort of like how Lila used to be alive after becoming that ghost, or Loha’s consciousness was able to speak to us after Vax removed the stake from her body?”

Lincoln nodded slowly. “Something like that. And I think… I think that the earthquake yesterday might’ve had something to do with him, too.”

Abel leaned back in his chair, his hand rubbing his chin thoughtfully. His eyes went distant like they always did whenever he was lost in thought, piecing together puzzle pieces and searching for answers. “If that earthquake ties back to Vax, then we have to do something about it.”

“I agree.” Lincoln got to his feet, his empty coffee cup in his hand. “That’s why I need to go back to the caves and see what’s happened to him. If something’s changing him—twisting him—then I might just be the only one who can get through to him.”

***

About a half hour later, Abel parked his car outside of the caves and turned off the engine. Heavy silence hung over them as they waited, for what, they weren’t sure.

“Are you sure you want to do this alone?” Abel finally said, breaking the tense stillness in the air.

“Of course I don’t want to do this alone. That’s why you’re here.”

“You know what I mean. Those caves…” Abel’s eyes dropped to the steering wheel, the corner of his lips tightly downturned. “There are memories in there, Lincoln. Memories that are difficult to face alone.”

Lincoln clapped Abel on the shoulder—a confident gesture, betrayed in tone only by the ever-so-slight trembling of his fingers. “All memories have to be faced sooner or later.”

“Even the corpses?”

Lincoln’s forced smile faded. Abel wasn’t referring to metaphorical corpses; he was talking about Vax. It was the reason Lincoln hadn’t gone back, not once, even though the others had ventured deep inside the caves to leave flowers, notes, and gifts for Vax’s memory. His body was there, a knife still stabbed through the mass of decomposing, waterlogged flesh and bone.

Lincoln wasn’t sure he could face seeing that corpse. But he knew that he had to try.

“Just wait out here for me,” Lincoln said. “If I need anything, I’ll send you a text.”

“You seriously think you’ll have service all the way down there?”

“...It’s possible?”

Abel sighed, but didn’t push further. Perhaps he could see in Lincoln’s eyes just how important this was for him. He remained in the car as Lincoln stepped out and crossed over the familiar mountain path with its dense pine trees and underbrush to the hole in the side of the mountain, gaping out from the rock like a jagged maw.

The last time Lincoln was here—

No. He wouldn’t think of it. The ghosts couldn’t come back, not yet, not until he had actually reached Vax and found answers for the questions that hung over his head.

Lincoln closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and stepped into the caves.

The moment he was inside, he could feel it—the Power. It hummed in the caves, dense and overbearing, and yet so familiar all the same. He pressed one hand against the rock and using his gift, he quickly navigated the maze of twisted rock and dense, stony chambers until he reached the Power source at the heart of it all.

The chamber glowed with an otherworldly light, bathing the walls with aqua rays and rippling across the still surface of the small spring in the center of the chamber. Behind the body of water was the breach—a flickering, pulsating mass of cyan light and energy that was so thick and heavy, it was almost a concrete, physical thing.

And there, partly submerged in the luminescent pool of water, was Vax. Or what was left of him, anyway. A tattered, disintegrating leather trench coat, stubbornly clinging to decrepit human remains… Lincoln forced his gaze up from the corpse and to the breach above it. He took a step forward—

And froze. The feeling in the air… it was so strong and familiar that it took Lincoln’s breath away.

Because he was right. Vax was there, and not in the way that someone’s ashes keep their presence alive or your mind thinks you hear the voice of someone you lost long after they’re gone. Vax was there. Not quite alive but not quite dead, existing alongside the Power, infusing it with such Vax-ness that Lincoln knew he could never unsee it.

He approached the glowing rift and carefully held out a hand.

“Vax?” he said softly.

Silence, and then—

The softest moan swept through the cavern, carried on a wind that had no source. It brushed against Lincoln’s face, caressed his cheek, tossed aside the strands of hair hanging in his face.

Lincoln’s breath caught, and his knees grew weak. He lost his balance and started to fall toward the breach, but a force, gentle as a breeze but powerful as a storm, kept him upright. Lincoln’s heart caught and hope filled his chest. He lifted his eyes to see who had caught him—

But no one was there. At least no one who was alive.

“Vax… I know you’re here with me.” A hollow whistle echoed throughout the chamber and Lincoln’s shirt collar fluttered. “Do you remember me? It’s me, Lincoln.” The water rippled, but still nothing that Lincoln could understand. So he reached out once more and held his hand in the light of the glowing breach.

At once the world faded and Lincoln found himself somewhere else—a plane of nothingness, an existence composed solely of blinding white light. He squinted against the brightness, his hand rising instinctively to shade his eyes, and that’s when he saw him. Vax.

He was standing right there, across the plane from Lincoln. His hair was the same bright pink it had always been, and he was wearing the same black leather and silvery jewelry that he always did. But the look in his eyes… it was one of pure pain, of agony. One eye twisted shut in a silent scream while the other was a gaping, bloody socket that streaked scarlet down his face.

But he was there.

A sob weighed heavily on Lincoln’s throat and he tripped forward. “Vax!” he called out. Vax’s single eye shot wide open, and Lincoln reached for him, anticipation filling him at the prospect of having Vax in his arms once more. But when he tried to touch him, his hands passed right through him as if he were nothing more than vapor, and he collapsed in a heap onto the misty white void.

Vax gasped at the near contact. When he tried to speak, his voice was fractured, shattered, like he’d lost the parts of himself that he’d once used to express himself.

“L… nc…” he choked out.

Lincoln rose to his feet, his former hope and anticipation nothing but splintered remains. But he tried to push the disappointment aside. He may not fully understand what was happening, but Vax was here. It was more than he’d had in over a year.

“Vax,” he said again, gentler this time.

He took in Vax’s face, and now that he looked closer he could see that there was a wrongness about it. It wasn’t the same Vax he had known. Despite the brightness of the void around him, a shadow hung over Vax’s brow, and his entire face was twisted with bottomless pain. And his eyes… it was like they were seeing everything and nothing at the same time, staring at Lincoln while simultaneously staring through him.

But Lincoln didn’t back away. He stepped closer, until his forehead was mere inches from Vax’s own transparent one.

“I’m sorry this happened to you,” Lincoln said, his voice soft and gentle.

Vax’s ragged breath shuddered and a ripple passed over his face. “Why… y… ou… come…”

“Because I will always be at your side whenever you need me. In life or in death, I will always be there for you. We promised each other, Vax. Do you remember?”

Vax’s expression was blank, no hint of recollection anywhere in his face. So Lincoln remembered for him.

Images flashed through his mind. Moonlight filtering through a shuttered window— different shades of intertwined skin— soft lips upon a neck—

And then the words drifted in: “You give me the strength to live, just for the honor of staying by your side” and “I am yours” and finally, “In life or in death, always know that I will be there for you.”

A blip passed over Vax, like some sort of glitch. Within the next second he was yards back, on his knees and clutching his forehead as he screamed out in pain, but before Lincoln could react, he flickered right back to where he had been standing. But this time, the shadow was gone from his face. The wrongness was still there, but it was less pronounced. Lincoln could see the Vax he knew in his beautiful, familiar features.

“Lincoln…” Vax said.

“I’m here.”

A smile flickered across Vax’s lips, but then it dropped as soon as it came and he groaned in pain.

“It hurts,” he whispered, hands fisting over his heart. There was nothing there in this projection of his body apart from a crimson stain that seeped from the center of his chest. “It hurts so badly.”

“I know it does, Vax. I know.” Lincoln stepped closer. “Is there anything I can do to make it hurt less?”

Vax shook his head, his arms wrapping around himself. “It’s impossible. This pain will never go away. It’s endless.”

“I’m so sorry.” Lincoln knew it was pointless, but he couldn’t resist. He reached a hand out to Vax’s cheek, and his fingers passed through, just as he expected. “I wish I could do something to help.”

“Every single second it’s nothing but agony… and fury…” A shadow passed over Vax’s face, and pure rage flickered in his remaining cyan eye. “He did this to me. Matthias…”

And Lincoln could feel it somewhere deep inside him—a distant rumbling and quaking earth—as Vax’s anger pooled out in all directions. With a spark of understanding, Lincoln realized without any doubt what had caused the earthquake. He didn’t know how, or why, but Vax’s pain was so great that it could reach far and wide, causing devastation and death without him even realizing it.

As his mind drifted to the fallen buildings and smoky sheen of debris back in Las Vegas, Vax’s eye widened in horror. He must’ve seen Lincoln’s memories, just like he’d seen the memories of their love.

“What is this?” he asked, but from the look on his face, Lincoln could tell he already knew.

Lincoln pushed the thoughts away. “It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

“I… caused this?”

“No,” Lincoln insisted with a firm shake of his head. “It wasn’t your fault. You’ve been hurt, tortured. You can’t realize what you’re doing.”

“So much death and destruction, all because of me…” Vax’s incorporeal form shuddered and he shrunk back. “I did this. I’m a monster. I never wanted to be this thing, I never wanted to hurt people, I—”

“You’re not a monster, Vax. My father is the monster. Not you. Never you. And I’ll come here every single day if that’s what it takes to remind you.”

The words were barely out of his mouth when Vax was flinching backward, a visceral horror etched onto his features. “No. You can’t do that, Lincoln, I would never ask that of you! I’m not really here, living a life with me won’t make you happy. It wouldn’t be real.” At his agitation, the blood in Vax’s chest gurgled and more spilled out across his chest. “You can’t give up your life to be stuck in the past with me. I won’t let you.”

“If me being here with you is what it takes to get your mind off the pain or to convince you that you’re not the monster you fear you are, I’ll gladly live the rest of my life in this dream.”

“Don’t be stupid, Lincoln.”

“But—”

Before Lincoln could say anything else, the world around him began to dissolve, until he was watching the same scene from a different angle. He was up above, looking down on a vision of Vax and an older, unfamiliar man as they stood across from each other in the void. They weren’t touching—they couldn’t—and though Lincoln got the sense that the two had spent years like this in the void together, Vax’s pain and anger was no less than it was in reality.

“Look what I’ve done to you,” Vax’s voice murmured from below. “I should never have let you visit me like this. You’ve thrown your life away for nothing. Look how quickly being here has aged you.”

“It wasn’t for nothing,” the other man said, and with a start, Lincoln realized he was looking down at himself. It was his voice—albeit weak with age—and his eyes. His hair was snow white, and his skin was sagging and wrinkled, but it was him. He’d spent his entire life tied to a ghost in a phantom world, and Vax’s anger and regret was even stronger than it was now.

“My life is mine to give, and I chose to give it to you,” the older Lincoln said. “As long as I’m alive, you shouldn’t have to suffer alone.”

“But soon you’ll be gone, and I’ll have to live the rest of eternity knowing that you shortened your own lifespan and dedicated the few years you had left because of me.” And though he was incorporeal, glistening, glowing tears glittered down Vax’s cheek. “I never wanted this for you.”

A stricken look passed over the older Lincoln’s face as he realized the truth in Vax’s words. He could dedicate his meager years to living by Vax’s side, but eventually, he would die. And when he did, Vax would be alone, and all that all remained with him would be the guilt that Lincoln had given up his life for him.

The faded until Lincoln was back in the void, standing across from Vax.

“Now do you see?” Vax asked. “The reason I don’t want you to stay here with me?”

Despite everything he’d just seen, Lincoln shook his head. “I don’t care. I’d do it, Vax. I’d do it for you!”

“No.” Vax’s eye flashed, and a pulse of energy rippled through the void. “Taking your life from you would truly make me a monster. I don’t want you to sacrifice yourself for me. I want you to live for me.”

The air vibrated as if confirming the truth of Vax’s words, but still Lincoln couldn’t bear to hear it.

“But what about you?” he asked. “I can’t leave you here alone. I need to help you remember who you used to be, to offer you something besides this constant misery.”

Vax’s lips pulled into the softest of smiles, so faint it was barely there but clear enough to speak volumes. “You already have. Just this brief moment with you is enough for me to hold onto and to remember why I can never give into my anger. This moment has given me all that I need to never lash out and hurt others again.”

“I need to take responsibility for this, Vax. It’s my fault you’re here. If I hadn’t allowed myself to get hurt, if I hadn’t let you love me—”

“You didn’t let me love you, Lincoln. I fought for the chance to, and eventually you gave in.” Vax’s expression faltered, his brow furrowing with worry. “But now, we have to move forward. We can’t be chained by these feelings, we have to accept them for how they were and move forward. You’re still alive, Lincoln, and you can’t waste your life away here with me. Even being here for as long as you have is taking its toll on you.”

Something inside Lincoln ached, and he knew that Vax was right. It was as if he could feel himself aging and growing weaker with each second he spent here. If he came back here, how long would it be before he turned into the man from the vision, old and stricken with years?

“You have to leave this place,” Vax said with a decisive nod. “If you won’t leave willingly, I’ll just have to make you.” He closed his eyes, and Lincoln felt the world around him start to shift.

“No, Vax, I’m not ready—”

“Promise me you’ll live, Lincoln. Knowing that you’re somewhere out there, still caring for me, is all that I need to endure this existence I’ve been sentenced to.”

Wind began to whip at Lincoln’s hair, and Vax’s body dimmed until it was nothing but a dense cloud.

“Vax…”

“Promise me you’ll move on and won’t come back to this place!” Vax’s voice boomed all around him, like it was everywhere and yet nowhere, all at once.

“I can’t—”

“Please, promise me!” His voice was desperate, and Lincoln couldn’t stand to be another cause of Vax’s pain. So he found himself shouting, “I promise!”

The chaos seemed to fade, and Vax offered a whispered “Thank you.”

When Lincoln opened his eyes once more, he was back in the Power chamber. The familiar presence was still there, warm as a caress, wrapped around him with a care, and faint words echoed throughout the stillness of the cavern:

“When everything else fades and nothing is left in this world, I will remain. And I will love you. When all living creatures have passed on and their memories with them, I’ll still be here. And I will remember you.” A gentle breeze stroked Lincoln’s face, and tears pooled in his eyes as he closed them. “You deserve every good thing this world has to offer, and I’m sorry that we couldn’t have the life together that we so desperately wanted. But at least in death, I can make sure that someone on this earth will always remember you, and will always love you.”

With these words following after him, he turned his back on Vax and made his way back out of the cavern, tears hanging from his eyelashes like tiny crystals.

Abel was pacing anxiously beside his car when Lincoln emerged from the cave, and he stopped abruptly the moment he saw Lincoln. “You made it!”

He ran for Lincoln just as Lincoln’s legs gave out beneath his weight. His breath was heavy, and his hair had fallen loose. Abel slung Lincoln’s arm around his shoulder and helped him walk back to the car.

“What happened?” Abel asked once they were both sitting in the car. “And Linc, your hair…”

Lincoln ran his fingers through the bangs falling in his face, pulling them into his line of sight, and his breath caught. A stripe of his dark hair had faded snowy white, as if only this part of himself had aged rapidly in the past hour.

“Whatever you did, it took its toll on you,” Abel said, his eyes sad.

“It…” Images, both terrible and beautiful, danced across Lincoln’s memory. If there were words to describe what he had just experienced, he did not have them. At least not yet. “It was him. He’s gone, but he’s here, and he needed me.”

Abel’s forehead wrinkled with concern. “Lincoln… You can’t become like Noah. Especially if visiting him ages you like this.”

“I won’t be like Noah. I…” Lincoln‘s breath shook, and he forced himself to continue. “I promised Vax that I wouldn’t come back here to see him anymore. He wants me to live, not to be shackled to a ghost.”

“Is that a promise you can keep?”

Lincoln’s hand tightened into a fist in his lap. “I know I can’t bring him back, and I know that spending my life with him is impossible. Even if he’s sort of here, he’s not really. Beignets together is nothing more than a dream that’s passed, and I’d be stupid to try to go back to it.”

Abel nodded, a clear look of relief on his face.

“He’s much more powerful than Loha ever was, and more capable of destruction when he’s angry and hurt,” Lincoln continued, “but I believe that seeing me today awoke something inside of him. We still can’t be together—that hasn’t changed—but that little moment together has changed both of us. And I truly believe that he won’t be lashing out and hurting anyone anymore.”

As if in confirmation, the Power in the air around Lincoln buzzed warm and comforting, and he knew it was Vax.

Beside him. Abel turned on the car. “Let’s get you back to your hotel. I think you need some rest.”

They drove away from the caves, and Lincoln knew he wouldn’t be back. Just as Vax would keep his promise to temper his anger, Lincoln would keep his promise to move forward, and in so doing, they would forever honor the love they had for each other.

***

When Matthias felt Vax again, he was just sitting down for dinner at one of the most distinguished restaurants in Majorca. Aside from the other wealthy patrons occupying the tables around him and his dedicated server, he was alone, though he didn’t mind the solace of spending a meal by himself.

“Are you alright, my friend?” Matthias murmured. The presence was there, challenging him.

You have no power over me.

And somehow, he knew that it was true. Whatever had happened between now and the first time he’d felt Vax’s presence had impacted him so deeply that the simmering anger—which was still there—no longer consumed his soul.

A wry smile pulled at his lips. “Lincoln. I have you to thank for this, don’t I?”

Enjoy your power while it lasts, fuckface. As soon as I learn to cut you off from myself, you’re going down.

Matthias chuckled at the threat. It was nothing more than a child attempting to be powerful and brave. At least, that’s what he told himself. The white knuckles, flushed face, and quickened heartbeat told another story.

But that story no longer matters. What matters is this: if Vax hadn’t fallen in love, perhaps he would have won in the battle against Matthias. But now… his love was what was saving him. The tale of this love didn’t look like lazy mornings spent in one another’s embrace, or romantic trips in the tropics. This love didn’t save Vax’s life, it didn’t keep Lincoln from loneliness. But its power was there in a different way.

It happened. It mattered. Just the memory of so great a love was enough to soothe an abused, battered soul and to give a broken heart the courage to move forward.

And sometimes, that is enough.

#it lives within #ilw #playchoices #my writing #lincoln x mc #lincoln mcquoid #lincoln aquino #it lives anthology

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yd1980q · 9 months

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gay, gay, gay

before anything else, i am so proud to say i finished reading the book in just a day because it was so good it got me out of my month worth reading slump so rightfully i had to expect much from the movie. alex and henry are just so lovable - nothing against their characters. i was giggling and kicking my feet and i. am over the moon happy for them. so the movie, well to start with the characters, they were perfectly casted as how book to movie adaptation goes, you know, there will always be minor changes right, but this one, they were literally straight out from the book, okay only except henry should at least be an inch taller than alex but its fine cause it was just a minor detail. anyway, they were both so good looking and exactly how i imagined them and the actors really got the vibe of the characters. when i learned that they cut off June's character, i thought it was very unnecessary because june had big part in the book, but they merged june and nora's characters into one and so we only got nora in the movie and to be honest, it was still good and barely noticeable. the plot was kept as it is - not so forbidden love but the "no one has to know" trope which i eat up everytime but also makes me anxious (which is why its helpful to read the book first cause you'll know what will happen next) the two things that bother me though is that the beginning felt rushed. their character build up and their relationship escalated quickly. the emails which were the CORE of their relationship build up was so rushed and they didn't go into detail!!! in the book, it was at most a chapter of them just exchanging emails, literally the best part. the other thing is the soundtrack, i think it's safe to say the whole fandom was expecting a taylor swift song because alex and henry are so t.s song coded - london boy, i can see you, miss americana- i can go on forever. i was so mad they didn't level up their soundtrack. anyway, the chemistry of the actors cannot be denied, they ate their characters up and did i already mention how good looking they both are? like i can take them both but not in a fight. they are so gay them i love them but get this the actors are both straight so really applaud the acting. let me talk about alex first. the portrayal was spot on, literally the alex from the book - the wit, the expressions, the fun and child-like personality, the style, he is so mirrorball, everything, spot on. henry's also got the softie, angelic face, very prince looking vibe. the actor did justice to prince henry for real, very british, very pretty. he is so the archer coded. he is so sunshine and alex is sunshine protector. i love henry so much i could keep him in my pocket he's so baby girl. the smut was not detailed lol kinda disappointed but understandably so but boy do they give me butterflies every time they kiss. i wish they kissed more like every scene. the emotional scene was also spot on, alex drenched in rain water, henry in his night gown, their conversation and the angry love confession - they didn't stray far from the book. overall, nothing beats the book obviously but i wasn't disappointed of the movie. i love the movie i can watch it forever. although who am i kidding? i love and appreciate everything and i have no solid opinion anyway it was really a good 2 hour watch i can watch it forever, i already said that. i love gay movies now, at least if the actors are good looking, really changes the game.

#red white and royal blue #alex and henry #prince henry rwrb #alex claremont diaz

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carelessflower · 2 years

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happy bday alec lightwood bane. in honor of our fav blorbo what are your fav things abt him and fav alec centric moments…

the fact that i have to narrow don the thing i love about him and not just saying his entire existence is a crime itself but fine im a virgo i can deal with challenge

fave qualities

he's a bad bitch: listen i think fandom should stop arguing over what is the best interpretation of him like whether hes shy or hes bitchy the answer is both! he's awkward around strangers and will not hesitate to cut a bitch when the time comes!! its his duality

the way he love: when he love someone he doesnt hold back. he doesnt even know how to hold back. its an earth-shattering feeling that shake everything to the core (see what i did there). he may hide himself in the past but he know who he is now and who he love, and anyone with difference opinion can go and be miserable

his protectiveness: his family his sibling his parent every children he come across every person that need his help, he will do everything he can to help them, 100% wont hesitate to stab himself if it can help someone

2. fav alec centric moments

we're getting serious strap yourself in this one is for my babygurll

idc this is the best introduction for alec. hes that bitch okay he is simultaneously the diplomatic person in the group and the one who actually does his research when the gang about to go to hell but BUT dont even try him he will cut you and your self-esteem

when i tell you i squeal and cheer and laugh. no hes not here for your drama or to make you a pie he got a bottle of wine and a dream and an ex-boyfriend to rescue stay out of his way

unhinged!alec supporter where are you at!?!??! no but seriously this moment, the way he said "die, then, liar" like reporting the news then shot merlion like, he put the cute in execute. i support alec rights but more importantly, i support alec's wrongs use you go you murder machine

like the arrows that he use in battle alec never hold back. once hes decided on something or loving someone its ride or die for him its that serious. if your man not ready to be in hell with you raise your standard you deserve better

through this exchange, u understand the kind of person alec is and how he is ready to shoulder other responsibilities and not even blame them for that. alec lightwood-bane is for the people with eldest daughter syndrome thats my babygurll

#ask #alec lightwood #alec lightwood bane #the achievement of alec should be a subject #i will actually get an A

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firebatvillain · 6 months

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20 questions for fic writers!

As seen on @givereadersahug (x)!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

I currently have 59 works on AO3, though some of those are unrevealed or anonymous, so the visible work count is a bit lower.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

105k! Wow. Over half of that has been in the last two years, when I've been doing a lot more writing and taking part in exchanges.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Naruto (7) Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling (7) Original Work (7) Warhammer 40.000 (3) Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms (2) Stellaris (Video Game) (2) From there we get into a lot of one-offs that I wrote for exchanges. House MD, Gundam Wing, Good Omens, The Order of the Stick, and many others. Most of the Original Work fics are for particular exchange prompts, some of which are quite fun.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

The Greatest Weasley [Harry Potter, Ron-Centric, incomplete] - this WIP is my white whale! Ron gets sorted into Slytherin. Only a couple chapters, I should return to it sometime...

Harry Potter and the Independent Path [Harry Potter, parody, one-shot] - This very short parody fic is fun and I'm glad people like it. I actually look back fondly on this genre even if I poke fun at it.

Five Times Sakura Heard the Voice, and One Time It Faded [Naruto, Sakura-centric, one-shot, 2.9k] - This was an fest fic for Fest No Jutsu 2022! I really enjoyed writing this one.

If You Won’t Wait for Me, I’ll Find My Own Path [Naruto, Sakura-centric, drabble] - Wrote this one based on the fandom opinions of my friend @xenosimp. Surprised at its popularity.

Liana and the Labyrinth’s Core [Original Work, Explicit, Het, 2.3k] - I wrote this very explicit fic for an exchange, and had a lot of fun with it! Minotaur/Sacrifice, make sure to read the tags/warnings.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

For exchange fics, almost always. Otherwise, I do sometimes. It's fun to chat with other fandom people and let them know I appreciate their comments, or answer their questions.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don't usually write angsty endings, but The Rules of Reintegration [OW drabble, prompt: military android masquerading as a human] is angsty.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I'd say Four Times Toph Beifong Triumphed [ATLA, Toph-centric, 2.5k words] would be it. It's generally fun!

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not often, though I got one very baffling comment on a fic where someone questioned the realism of it. I'm not in the big fandoms where there's lots of drama though.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes, often for exchanges. It typically tends to be straightforward steamy sex. I've got some more kinky stuff posted to anon that I won't share here, heh.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I've written one, but it's not usually my style for writing, since it's a challenge for me. I love reading them though!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No, and I hope it never happens. I don't think anything I've written is popular enough for that 😅

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

My fandom friend and I co-wrote Mist and Shadow, a WH40k AU fic about Eldar escaping the fall of the Eldar empire. After about 12k words, we set it down, but we may return someday.

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

This is a tough one! All-time, I'm not sure. But at the moment, I'm basically chewing on Durge/Enver Gortash (BG3) and having a great time with it.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Oof, this is a tough one! There's a very old Naruto fic that I don't think I'll ever get back to... Lost Root. I can't really recommend it in its current state, but it was one of my first plot bunnies.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I think I'm pretty decent at paragraph-to-paragraph rhythm, and I am unafraid to try new things.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Sometimes I repeat certain phrases without realizing it, and pacing scenes can be difficult for me. I also have a tendency to write excessively long sentences. Trying to improve on that last one!

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Seems like a hard sell for both writer and reader.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

StarCraft pro gamer RPF. No, you won't find the fic on my AO3 profile.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

I'm still in love with Roonil Wazlib and the Goblet of Fire, a 2.8k word Harry Potter crackfic I wrote for Bad Bang V. Is it bad? Yes, oh yes. And it's fun, and so are the comments.

Tagging (no pressure): @xenosimp @vanyalanthirielofmana @chacusha @vampiremonday @uozlulu @miss-ingno @verecunda

#tag game #writing #fanfic #fandom #fbv writes

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tiredspacedragon · 11 months

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18 and 19 for the ask game

18 - It's absolutely criminal the fandom has been sleeping on: Rhotuka Spinners. Rhotuka Spinners are such a fascinating concept. Every being in the Matoran Universe possesses the ability to generate a Rhotuka, but can't do so without a launcher. The launcher is just an externalization method for a power latent in its wielder. That's such a bizarre concept and I love it. And then there's the fact that every sapient character has a unique power. It's like Mask Powers 2.0. And quite frankly I'm shocked that I haven't seen more discussion or theorizing about what various characters' Rhotuka powers might be. I get that we only know a handful of characters' spinner powers and that makes it hard to determine a pattern, but I still feel like it leaves a lot of room for imagination and fun fan-talk.

19 - You're mad/ashamed/horrified you actually kind of like: Okay, look. Just. Hear me out, okay. That post, the other day. The one about the Toa Mata's many parents. Where we all kinda established that Artakha is effectively their father, while the closest thing they have to a mother is Helryx. A very distant, work-obsessed mother, but she did still welcome them into the world and arranged their training and saw to it that they had everything they needed. Yeah, now I kind of...ship Helryx and Artakha. Like. Just a little bit. In a weird, semi-platonic, semi-not way. Like, the precursor to the Order of Mata Nui was the Hand of Artakha, but Artakha himself had nothing to do with the organization, it was just named after him. And I can see him mentioning it to Helryx at some point and her actually getting a little flustered because sure, it happened millennia ago, but at the time, she and the rest of the grew were big fans of Artakha, so to speak. She's basically meeting the closest thing she's ever had to an idol or a role model when he shows up in the Core Processor. I don't know, something about two ancient workaholic recluses finding kindred spirits in each other appeals to me. I can see them sharing a drink, or standing together very stoically watching over their shared superhero children. Barely exchanging more than a handful of words but sharing a mutual understanding of safety and comfort in each other's presence. Yeah, I don't know why I'm like this either.

#bionicle #ask game #rhotuka #helryx #artakha #the head of black ops #the god of creation #and their six feral demigod children #i guess that makes the great beings the toa mata's grandparents #hydraxon is the crazy uncle (good) on their mother's side #karzahni is the crazy uncle (bad) on their father's side #and the turaga metru are their very tired teachers

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exilley · 5 months

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1, 12, 22, 24 for rgu?

the character everyone gets wrong Saionji, in the sense that no one lends his character any room to breathe. People have a very "my way or the highway" attitude about interpreting his character and how he develops and it does a disservice to their overall understanding of RGU's core themes. He is as much of a raging misogynist as Touga and hurts those around him in pursuit of the Bride's power. He is also someone who was coded into that niche of violence by being given a glimpse of "eternity". As well, he feels uncomfortable being forced to embody that role. And etc. He has more multitudes than the audience tends to give him credit for.

the unpopular character that you actually like and why more people should like them EASY. TSUWABUKI. His whole character is about the gendered and hierarchical socialization that young children experience in the process of being indoctrinated into indelible myths about the world around them. Aside from being intertwined with Nanami's character, the symbolism of him wielding two blades in the dueling arena, the way his Black Rose episode so poignantly illustrates the helplessness and frustration of being dismissed, ignored, and berated without being provided any explanations for the casual cruelty he witnesses is so satisfying to watch. Characters who are as young as Tsuwabuki are hardly ever written with such nuance and it's like a breath of fresh air every time he's on screen. I love him dearly and I love the conclusion for his overall arc, his relationship with Nanami having stabilized into something a lot healthier combined with the general ambiguity surrounding the show's final scenes... anyway. Long story short Tsuwabuki deserves more attention

your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores The final scene of Miki's Next Box, particularly the part where Kozue looks over her shoulder to deliver that one-liner before the ending card concludes the episode. That really terse exchange between them is probably one of my favorite bits of dialogue in the whole of Utena, actually.

topic that brings up the most rancid discourse I can't think of any discourse that could happen *in* this fandom, at least, of the unhealthy moralizing variant. Most people are generally well-adjusted about the show and its writing. That being said, there is a minority demographic who apparently hate the franchise's guts because of some unconscionable depictions of India in the show (giving the dialogue its due; it is perhaps the series' weakest point). There is a slightly more vocal minority who don't like Utena just because they're annoyed with the fanbase and are tired of constantly being recommended the show. I don't have anything deeper to say about these topics other than people are free to think what they want about Utena and I don't have any say in what they do/don't engage with. I'd rather spend my time on people who do care about its merits and discuss it in good faith.

#jin responds #codeword: revolution #THIS WAS LONG SORRY !!

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sneezemonster15 · 2 years

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What do you think about ppl like this https://sasukeyncoreblog.tumblr.com/post/686622642398183424

Hi.

What's there to say that I haven't said a hundred times before? The last comment made me smile. There is already a credible degree of obsession involved once you become a fan of a piece of art and write about it in an exclusive blog. It indicates a substantial level of commitment and effort, that you wouldn't just invest in something you didn't feel strongly about.

Sasuke and Naruto's love story finds its inspiration in Japanese Shakespeare (Chikamatsu), someone who idealizes the notion of romantic love in Japanese literature. Kishimoto's gargantuan effort in finding all kinds of romantic tropes found in literature, along with his maniacal obsession with making them visually and narratively compatible, using symbolism from South and East Asian mythology, all of it is evidence of his passion for Sasuke and Naruto's story. He has a persistent SNS brain rot himself. I have also discussed the cited interview before in a couple of my posts. It isn't really that difficult to put two and two together. heh.

The last comment in this thread made me think, it must be one of those fans who have their own unsubstantiated headcanons, for which they would easily dismiss glaring evidence of SNS. Meh, I can only snicker at them. What else can I be expected to think, looks like a case of sour grapes to me. And yes, those who deny SNS despite all the evidence are homophobic, directly or indirectly, whether they realize it or not. I don't expect a lot of emotional honesty from Naruto fandom, most of them aren't really aware that they are being emotionally dishonest with themselves, the extent of their denial is so far reaching, I can't really hope to hold an honest exchange of thoughts and opinions with them.

SNS inspires obsessive shipping. Full stop. If you understand the core ingredients of what makes SNS, SNS, if you really have that depth of feeling and understanding, if you are capable to feel what Kishimoto wanted you to feel, then you cannot be compared to shallow shippers and fans. Not all audience is alike. Godfather is an instant classic, one of the greatest films ever made, a masterclass in film theory. But one of my film buff friends fell asleep in the middle of watching it, it just wasn't her speed. Likewise, I usually like to watch Nolan's films but I fell asleep (twice, I tried twice and fell asleep both times) while watching his Batman trilogy. My ex, who happens to be a Batman obsessive themselves, haven't forgiven me for it yet.

So I understand not everyone gets SNS, the major themes that make their story so great. I appreciate it the way I do, because I come from a background where I have seen a hell lot of drama, romantic and otherwise, in films and literature and theatre. I am an art enthusiast, and as a former academic, I have written expansively on it. So, my context is different from a layman's context. I can identify things in it that most fans of a certain age and background can't, and I can't exactly blame them. My personal experience of life is also rich and diverse enough for me to appreciate SNS in a way that most others can't. If you don't know what you are looking at, you wouldn't understand why it is meaningful. But I can, and so can other fans such as me.

Understanding Naruto and Shippuden in its truest sense is a liability. It is a privilege and a curse. It's a boon and a burden. If one can get obsessive about literature such as Romeo and Juliet, then why not SNS, it's loads better than Romeo and Juliet. Yeah, I said it, and I stand by it.

I have said it before and for the purpose of this ask, I will say it again. If you ship Naruto and Sasuke for the right reasons, reasons that Kishimoto delineates himself, you believe in love for the right reasons. I am a childhood trauma survivor, and I really don't have time for shallow, superficial shit. I like substance and emotional heft in my stories. Kishimoto wrote his magnum opus with definitely this one thought in his mind, to write the greatest love story about two orphans in a conflicted world, a reflection of his own world, marred by the vagaries of war and loss and grief. Look at his interview that is mentioned in the thread, it is quite clear that his focus is on relationship and feelings. Love despite all odds. So intense and extreme and all consuming, that he is afraid people think of the boys as lunatics. He thinks perhaps they won't be able to get it, get the boys. He is aware how it looks to people who don't understand it. But he also knows that people who have experienced the stuff he writes about, they will understand. And they do. People who have survived childhood trauma, understand things about human condition that most people aren't able to, throughout their entire lives.

At the risk of being vulnerable, I would like to talk about what broke me first when watching Naruto the first time. No, it wasn't SNS. This scene. When little Gaara decides that if nobody loved him, he would love himself. Yeah, I had a breakdown after that. A very very deeply repressed memory came to surface. When I was a kid, entirely neglected and abhorred, I used to lock myself in my room, squash myself in a corner and imagine an adult me, rocking and hugging myself like a baby, while I wrapped my own arms around me, and telling myself that the adults in my life might not care, but the future adult me cares. So if they won't love me, I would love myself. That's how I used to comfort myself. Of course, later, it became kind of a part of my pathology, just like Gaara. Couldn't be helped. heh. But yeah, Kishimoto really put his finger on my most sensitive and deeply repressed nerves, he brought them out in the open and played them like a fucking harp, but it made the most haunting and beautiful melody so I stayed for the whole concert. Lol.

When I say their story isn't really age appropriate for its target group, I am not joshing, it really isn't. So I get that it's not for everyone. Maybe not even for adults who don't have that depth of emotions and understanding that this story requires. And it becomes clear that these are the same people who end up mischaracterizing both Sasuke's and Naruto's characters. It also helps that I have seen/read a lot of LGBTQ+ media, so the kind of tropes that I can identify in it, most others can't. Only the other day, I was talking to a friend of mine, he is an animehead. And even he doesn't get it. He also maintained that they were brothers and that Japanese media tends to depict male bonds as especially close, which is the case for Naruto and Sasuke, but that it isn't romantic. He compared them to Vegeta and Goku, sigh....

Now, he saw Naruto as a kid, so that's what he remembers. I could not keep it in at that point, I took my sweet time, but I proved him wrong. He still is resentful and doesn't completely agree, because he has this complex, whatever, as a long time Anime fan, in comparison, I have only been here a year. But he doesn't contradict me anymore. He knows his arguments will be stripped naked and spread to crumble in the sun, and good thing about him is that he defers to my critical evaluation.

But he is my friend and I care enough to invest in him. I can't do that for every Tom, Dick and Harry. But I do write a blog and when I am offered resistance to my posts, I don't react too much, unless the opportunist in me wants to make poor jokes, because what's it gonna accomplish? SNS is so in your face, that it takes a special brand of denial and homophobia to dismiss it. And I can give one all the technical reasons to prove it's a love story, but like I said, it really is about emotions. Feeling. If you can't feel it, you won't get it.

Perhaps some of these commenters also think either Sasuke or Naruto or both are straight? What can I say to that level of incomprehension? Maybe read more? Or live more? But that kind of advice should be coming to them from their mentors and therapists, not me.

In summation, Naruto and Shippuden aren't everyone's cup of tea. Those who scrunch their eyebrows at the obsessive passion that shippers show for SNS don't really get what makes SNS so damn special, and what exactly inspires such strong emotions in the shippers. It inspires an entire sea of emotions. And not everyone has the kind of mind or disposition to contain and process that kind of emotion. And I don't expect them to.

#sns #naruto #uzumaki naruto #uchiha sasuke #sasuke #sasunaru #narusasu #ask

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