#BringFeedbackCultureBack

[lostbutterflyutau]

The Best Medicine

Note: While this does fit the first Ship Week prompt, it’s actually an excerpt from a longer fic that I’ve been working on behind-the-scenes for awhile (I’m trying to finish it before considering posting). Context is that when Mateo and Carla get sick at the same time -- a time when Elena and co. are planning for a royal visit and her family is away on diplomatic matters -- Rafa is brought in to care for them. Unfortunately, Carla proves to be a very stubborn and resistant patient until someone else drops by to lend a hand.

Also featuring the smallest bit of Rafa and Mateo family fluff.

*********

Despite the occasional nagging worry in the back of her mind, Rafa had fun putting lunch together. Once she explained the situation to the cook, he gave her free reign of part of the kitchen. The only stipulations were that she kept to that section, focused on only Mateo and Carla’s meals and didn’t get in his way.

She smiled to herself as she finished the tray off, hoped that Carla would at least try what she made. Having never cooked for her before, Rafa wasn’t sure if the girl was picky or not, but figured that the plain dishes she had made were a safe bet, both for Carla’s tastes and health. Unfortunately, despite being up by the time she made her way back to the room, Carla wanted nothing to do with the food. She had looked from it to Rafa and back again before rolling over and refusing to move.

“Come on, Carla,” Rafa coaxed as she sat down, set a hand on Carla’s back. “You have to eat something.”

Carla didn’t respond, only pulled the blanket up and over her head in a vain attempt to make Rafa go away. She wasn’t interested in the food, and even less in arguing, she just wanted to be left alone.

Rafa sighed to herself. She didn’t want to push too far, but also knew she couldn’t just give in to Carla’s stubbornness. Even if she didn’t want to, she needed to eat at least a little something for her health.

“How about you just take a small bite? See if you like it?”

“Go away,” Carla muttered, gripped her blanket tighter in case the older woman decided to try and pull it off the same way Abuela did when she was being stubborn.

“You know I can’t do that,” Rafa replied, moved her hand up and down along Carla’s back.

Carla ignored her, hoped that if she kept quiet, Rafa would eventually give up. Nothing she said was going to make her want to eat, not when her stomach was still turning. She was afraid that anything she ate would just come back up and the last thing she wanted was to experience that again.

Her lack of reaction drew another frown from Rafa as she considered her options. Being forceful wasn’t an option, nor was it her style, but waiting it out didn’t seem like a good choice either. Finally, she gripped the blanket with intent to carefully pull it back and at least make Carla look at her, but before she could even make the first tug, she was stopped by a soft rapping.

“Knock knock,” A soft, masculine voice said and Rafa turned.

“Gabe?” Carla said to herself, pushed the blanket off as she shifted and sat up.

Unable to help himself, Gabe gave a small smile at her ruffled appearance. Of course, he wasn’t happy that Carla was sick, especially not after hearing from Elena how she’d actually gotten worse overnight, but her mussed hair and the way she held onto her blanket were too adorable. Though, the novelty quickly wore off when he caught how rundown she looked. She had already looked bad the night before, but now there was more than tiredness in her eyes. Despite the way she smiled at him, he could tell from the way the smile – which quickly faded – didn’t reach her eyes that she was miserable.

He made his way over, took Rafa’s spot when she stood and stepped aside. “Hi, Cutie,” He teased, gently tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

“Cutie?” Rafa echoed, her eyes filled with curiosity.

Gabe winced. He wanted to kick himself for not thinking. He’d been so focused on Carla that he forgot for a moment that they weren’t alone, and that she wasn’t in her own room. He rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish look washing over his face. But, before he could even think of an explanation, Carla turned, her narrowed eyes locking onto Mateo’s mother.

“Don’t even think about it. And don’t you dare tell anyone, got it?”

Rafa opened her mouth to speak, but immediately shut it again when realised she had nothing to say in response. The look in Carla’s eyes, as feverish as it was, made it clear how important keeping the secret was to her. Finally, she nodded. “Of course.

Carla kept her glare in place, her eyes roving over the older woman’s, looking for any hint of deceit. While she didn’t know Rafa well enough to say so with complete certainty, she knew enough about spotting lies to know she meant what she said. She thought to speak again, but any thoughts she had of doing so faded away when she felt a hand settle on her cheek.

Gabe smiled at the way she instinctively leaned into his hand, asked, “How are you feeling?”

“Sick,” She replied as she toyed with her blanket.

“Sick like how?” He already knew she was sick. Even without being told, that fact was obvious. But no one had told him yet exactly what she had.

“I’m hot and everything hurts and my stomach won’t stop turning.”

“But you’re not sneezy? No sniffles this time?”

Carla shook her head, part of her wishing that she did have those things instead. She didn’t like being any kind of sick, but a cold was far easier to manage than whatever stomach bug she had caught.

“She has a tummy bug,” Rafa interjected. “And she was already sick twice this morning.”

Gabe blinked, looked from Rafa to Carla – who turned her gaze down to the blanket – as he processed the words. “You threw up?”

Carla nodded, kept her focus on the blanket as the awful memories from that morning came back. She hated him knowing that and hated Rafa for telling him.  

He gave her a sympathetic smile, reached over to take one of her hands and whispered as he gently ran his thumb over the back, “My poor, sick Cutie.”

She flicked her eyes up at him briefly and then quickly turned them back down again just as his own gaze fell on the table nearest to them.

“What’s that?” He asked.

“It’s supposed to be her lunch, but I can’t get her to eat. She just ignores me,” Rafa explained. She tried not to take it too personally due to the circumstances but couldn’t help the small sting that tugged at her at the fact that Carla hadn’t wanted to even taste her food.

Gabe nodded once, turned back to Carla. “Carla, you need to eat.”

Carla pretended to be interested in a piece of fuzz on the blanket.

“Carla,” Gabe pressed gently.  

“I’m just going to throw it up,” She said.

“I know that’s not fun. But you’ll never get better if you don’t eat even a little bit. Besides, it’s better to have something in your stomach. You’re going to be sick regardless, but it will feel a lot worse with an empty stomach,” He tried to explain, sighing lightly when she didn’t answer. He then turned to Rafa, motioned with his hand for the small bowl on the food tray. “Can I have that?”

Though she was hesitant, Rafa handed over the bowl, watching as he carefully stirred the broth around before taking a small spoonful and holding it up to Carla.

“Come on, Cutie. At least try it,” He encouraged, hoping that using her affectionate name would make her more agreeable. It was more than her stubbornness, though. He knew that she was probably upset about not being in her own bed and all of her usual caretakers being either gone or busy. Her refusal wasn’t meant to be rebellious or annoying, she was genuinely bothered by being looked after by someone she wasn’t used to and he felt awful for that. If he didn’t have so much on his plate, he’d take on the role himself, if only to make her more comfortable.

Glancing up, Carla considered her options. She knew his concern was nothing but honest, as it always was. Rafa’s was too, but there was something about the way Gabe regarded her that finally made her lean forward and accept the spoon he was offering her.

“Good?” He asked, knowing from the way her eyes had widened slightly when she caught the taste that it was. Still, he watched as she nodded and then offered her another spoonful, saying as she took it, “I’m not going to sit here and feed you. But I will sit with you while you eat if that’s what you want.”

“Can you?”

“Of course.”  He smiled at the eagerness in her gaze, stood to return the bowl as she shifted around in order to give him room to sit and settle himself. Once he did, she crawled over, slid into the space between his arm and the cushions.

Rafa gave her own smile at the sight, part of her wondering how, with just his presence, Gabe was able to get Carla to cooperate after she’d struggled so much with her. She grabbed the tray, carefully handed it over to Gabe, who held onto it after giving Carla her soup bowl.

Carla ate slowly, carefully, pausing every so often to make sure the food would stay down before either taking another bite or switching dishes. The meal was extremely simple, consisting of only warm broth, plain rice and a banana that Gabe cut into sections for her, carefully handing one over when she asked.

With Carla settled, Rafa resumed her chores from earlier, deciding to leave the couple alone while she bustled around the room, tidying up little things and finishing the laundry she had been folding. Only once that was done did she turn to her own belongings and start unpacking the clothing and various small items she’d brought for Mateo, including a small stack of storybooks that she set on the table she’d moved near her own side of the sofa. Instead of staying in a separate room, she decided that it would be easier to stay with Mateo and Carla and opted for the sofa that Carla wasn’t sleeping on.

She glanced back briefly when she heard clattering dishes followed by footsteps as Gabe stood with the tray in hand.  

“She ate about half,” He said when he caught Rafa’s eyes.

“That’s about what I expected,” She replied, moved to take the tray from him. “I’ll take this back. You stay with her.”

“Gabe!” Carla said, reaching over to pull at his shirt when he returned to her side. When he looked down, she pointed over to Rafa’s table, “She has the kitty book!”

He blinked, turned to where she was pointing and, upon seeing the stack of books, finally connected the dots. Sensing what she wanted, he headed over, picked up the picture book entitled “The Lost Kitten” from the top of the stack. He’d learned of her love for it the first time he’d looked after her when sick and caught her flipping through the palace library’s old copy. She had told him then that it was her favourite childhood book and that she actually loved kittens. Then, a few days later, she cuddled up with him while they read the book together since she still wasn’t well enough to attend the first night of Festival of Love and Friendship.

When he returned to her side, she immediately snuggled up to him, looked up with eager eyes as he opened the book.

“Am I reading this to you or with you?” He teased while he brought his arm around and settled his hand on her back.

Carla grabbed the other end of the book. “With.”

He smiled at her enthusiasm and kissed her head before reading the first line, enjoying the way she nestled herself into his side and read the pages in a soft voice as he turned them. Though she was obviously still sick, she was at least relaxed and resting until, just as he finished off the last page, he felt her tense against him, the fingers of the hand that had been gripping the book curling even further around it.

“Are you okay?” He asked as he gently closed the book, frowning when he didn’t get a response as she slunk down beside him. He went to speak again and stopped when he finally registered the sound of footsteps as Mateo made his way around his bed. As he moved into the attached bathroom, Gabe thought for a moment about Carla’s reaction and quickly realised that the whole sharing situation was probably uncomfortable for her, particularly since it was Mateo she was rooming with. If it was one of the girls, she’d probably be more comfortable.

He brought his hand up, ran it over her hair. “This is weird for you, huh?”

Carla nodded, curled into him further. “Very.”

Gabe ran his hand over her hair again, pressed another soft kiss to her head. “I’m sorry. But you know they didn’t do it to make you purposefully uncomfortable.”

He felt Carla’s head shifting as she nodded and mumbled something incoherent. For a second, he thought about asking what it was she had said, but she didn’t seem to be looking for a response.

She wrapped her arm around him, let out a soft sigh as she curled even further into him, the mix between his soap’s faint smell and his natural scent calming her. With his soft t-shirt, he was almost like a big stuffed animal, except with a gentle heartbeat that sent a slow wave of peacefulness through her like a soothing lullaby.

Feeling her relax completely against him, her breathing deepening and steadying as time went on, Gabe decided to stay put for awhile, a warm calmness slowly spreading through him as he closed his eyes, moved his hand down to softly rub her back.

“Why are you two in my bedroom?”

Though the voice hadn’t been particularly loud, both Gabe and Carla flinched when it broke through their peaceful moment. They looked up at the same time, saw a confused Mateo – who had apparently returned from the bathroom – standing next to the sofa. They then exchanged the same unsure look, wondering how neither had registered his presence as he approached.

“And why does Carla look like she’s been sleeping here?” He said it as if it was an afterthought, eyes looking first to the sofa – his sofa – that had been taken over by sheets, blankets and pillows in various shades of purple and then Carla curled up next to Gabe in what looked like a nightgown.

“Because I have?” Carla replied, the statement coming out like a question as she tilted her head slightly. Had nobody told Mateo? And if not, then why? It seemed like something he should know, especially considering his temporary roommate was a woman.  

Mateo opened his mouth to speak again, but barely got a word out before he was interrupted.

“Mijo! What are you doing out of bed?” Rafa said as she crossed the doorway, laundry basket in hand.

“What is Carla doing here?” Mateo asked, ignoring the fact that his mother even asked a question.

Rafa set the basket down, stepped over and sat a careful hand on her son’s back, explained as gave him a gentle push towards his bed. “Carla is here because she’s sick too. And it’s easier to have her stay here then for me to have to run up and down the hallway all day.”

He gave a slow nod in response, climbed back up into bed and waited while his mother adjusted and pulled up his blanket. Usually, he would do it himself, but she was so happy taking care of him that he let her do it.

“Can I get you anything?” She asked, smoothed the covers down one last time.

Mateo thought for a moment, the sudden realisation that he was hungry hitting him as his stomach grumbled. “I guess I could use a snack.”

Rafa kissed his head “Alright. I’ll get you something after I take care of Carla.”

Hearing her name, Carla sat up slightly, glanced from Gabe to Rafa. “Take care of Carla how?”

“By brushing your hair,” Rafa said, pulling a brush from one of her dress pockets as she descended the stairs. “I want to tie it back so –”

“No,” Carla cut her off, buried her head back into Gabe’s shoulder. She didn’t want Rafa even touching her hair. There was no way she would know how to do it right. And, even if she did somehow know exactly how she liked it brushed, Carla still didn’t want a near-stranger’s hands near her hair, especially when that person wasn’t a professional stylist.

“But, Carla…” Rafa tried to start.

“I said ‘no,’” Carla repeated. Her voice was muffled by Gabe’s shoulder, but they both still caught the gist of her answer.

Gabe turned to Rafa, who looked slightly offended, and gave her an apologetic smile. He knew that Carla could be difficult from time to time and that because she struggled with expressing her feelings, she wasn’t always the easiest to figure out, especially when she was sick or distressed. He wished for a moment that he had the same telepathy powers Carla did, if only so he could tell Rafa what he thought Carla was feeling without betraying her trust. But, since he didn’t, he turned his attention back to Carla instead.

Running a gentle hand over her back, Gabe coaxed, “Carla, look at me.”

Carla stayed put for a minute, seemingly contemplating her options before lifting her head to look him in the eyes.

“There’s my Cutie,” He teased. “Look, I know this hasn’t been easy for you, but if Señora de Alva says your hair needs to be tied back, it needs to be tied back.”

“Then you do it.”

“You know I’m not good at that kind of thing. Just give her a chance.”

“But that’s not even the right brush!”

Rafa looked down at the plain brown brush in her hand, raised an eyebrow. As far as she knew, a brush was a brush. Were there different kinds she didn’t know about? She thought to ask, but was interrupted by Gabe laughing as he played with a piece of his girlfriend’s hair.

“That’s an easy fix,” He said and then turned to Rafa again. “I can show you where she keeps her brush and hair accessories.”

Carla’s face fell as she clung to him tighter. “You can’t go! You just got here!”

Gabe smiled, gently patted her back. While she loved affection and kissing and cuddling in private, it was rare that Carla got so clingy. He’d only seen it a handful of times, all of which were when she was either scared or not feeling well. If he was honest with himself, he didn’t particularly like leaving her like this, especially when she was asking. The way she looked at him with those sad, pleading eyes always tugged at his heart just slightly, in part because he knew how real they were. She might have been able to use her eyes and bat her lashes to trick other people, but not him. Never him.

Instead of resisting, he knew it was best to be soft and play along a little. “I know you need me, but I don’t think you want someone going through your stuff unsupervised.”

Her eyes widened slightly at the idea as she realised that the thought had never crossed her mind. In order to get her brush, Rafa would have to go in her room and look for it not knowing which drawer it or her ponytails and ribbons were in. Finally, she murmured, “No.”

“I thought so,” Gabe said, carefully scooting away as she loosened her grip. “I’ll be back in a bit, I promise.” He left her with a soft kiss on the head, motioned for Rafa to follow him.

[afriendlyirin]

I saw this on Reddit and the poster requested everyone spread it on social media, so, sure, why not.

tl;dr Authors, if you only want a very particular type of feedback, say that explicitly in your author’s note instead of catfighting over whose exact preference gets to be the default for all fandom ever. The rest of you, stop telling people to kill themselves.

[fanfictionlive]

It’s Time to #BringFeedbackCultureBack!

Let me start by explaining why I titled the post with a hashtag. The answer is simple. I want this to become an actual movement. A Twitter and Tumblr tag. I want people to know it and tag it and spread it around. But, why?

Well, I know I’m not that old, but I remember the 00s. I remember a time when, even if you wrote a terrible fic, you could get feedback. Sure, it wasn’t always a great essay on how to improve, but even the smallest things could still put a smile on someone’s face. And that’s the core of the movement. We all know how good it is to receive and even give feedback and know how you made someone’s day. Every week there are posts here about how to gain an audience. How to get the attention and feedback that every author deserves. And the same advice tends to be given out over and over again. But it’s all in vain because much of that advice is outdated. We don’t need this mantra about “write for yourself” and “play review games,” or excuses like, “Well, it’s a small fandom” and “you wrote a rarepair,” we need an active, working movement to make audiences all across the board in fandoms big and small step up and realise how important feedback is to a community. It’s something that affects everyone creating content and thus, requires all parts of the community to come together in order to fix it.

For the time being, I have identified three parts of community that can play a large role in #BringFeedbackCultureBack. If there are more things that you (the audience) believe can help, feel free to include and explain them. The more information we have, the better we can help you and other creators!

I also want to note that I am talking specifically about writers both because this is a fanfiction sub and because I am a writer. However, I acknowledge that this problem spreads beyond just writers. It affects all sorts of content creators – fanartists, fanvideo editors, picture editors, etc… If you or anyone you know out there has this kind of experience, please let me know! The more information and testimonials we have, the more we can spread them around and show people that this isn’t something we’re making up. The breakdown of Feedback Culture, along with certain mindsets (which I’ll get to) are legitimate issues in fandom space that we can solve!

Moving on, the main three parts of the community that I focus on are writers, readers and Big Name Fans (BNFs).

Writers: Your role as the writer is to not only create content, but to engage with the audience. To communicate with and encourage your readers. And the first step to doing so is to let them know the type of feedback you are personally looking for. Everyone has different reasons for writing. Some people are really looking to improve and would love Constructive Criticism (Concrit), others are just in it for fun and whatever reason you may have is completely valid. But, no matter the reason, it would be helpful to let your audience know what you’re in it for.

I say this because I have read from readers that some are afraid to comment either because they or a friend got pushback from an author from their review because the author was “Just in it for fun” and “doesn’t want negativity.” Again, those reasons are valid. But, snapping back in this manner is not. It actually discourages readers and prevents the more sensitive from ever commenting again, creating a cycle of negativity. Now, if you DO say this and people choose to ignore it, then you do have a right to be annoyed. But instead of snapping back, perhaps just thank them and then politely inform them that, while you appreciate them taking the time to comment, but you are not looking for Concrit and would appreciate if they respected that going forward. Even if you are annoyed, being professional and cordial with your readers will reflect better on you. You’ll be less of a teen throwing a tantrum and look like a reasonable person. Don’t make a big deal of it. Just remind your audience of your motivations and ask them to please respect it. Just because you do not want Concrit does not mean you want no engagement. You just want a different type of engagement.

And, if you’re on the other side and you DO want concrit, remember that everyone has opinions and suggestions, especially online. And if someone gives one that you do not agree with or doesn’t work for your story, the good news it that you don’t have to implement it. Take things with a grain of salt. If someone is helpful, great! If not, also great! Just take whatever suggestions are relevant to your writing and goals and move on. However, if a person continues to push, you have a right to block, but we’ll get to those audience members in a moment.

After you inform readers of the feedback you would like, the next step is to thank them, let them know that their effort and words are appreciated. As a writer and reader of fic, I’ve been on both sides. As a writer, I know how good it is to get feedback. To finally see that magical email after days, weeks, months of nothing. But, as a reader, I also know how great it is just to be given a simple “thank you.” To have an author acknowledge you and appreciate the effort you took to comment on their fic. Both writers and readers need to feel that their efforts are appreciated. Feedback makes the fandom world go ‘round. If writers feel appreciated, they’ll be happier and make more content. If readers feel appreciated, they’ll comment more and fuel that appreciation. And this will keep the movement going and circling so we can actually, well, bring it back! I know, I know, pressing a button or sending an emoji is so much easier. But it’s not enough sometimes. Sometimes we NEED the words. And encouraging and ...thanking readers could be a step in bringing those words. If people aren’t afraid of comment backlash, they’ll be more inclined to open their mouths and spread the love.

Readers: First and foremost, the role of the reader is to be polite. I can not stress this enough. Remember that I said writers should be polite to their audience? Well, it’s a two-way street. That being said, I don’t think I need to say that here, but since this is a master post for the campaign, I’m including it anyway, I have read ...too many testimonials about Readers leaving legitimately unhelpful, rude reviews. And I’m not talking critique. I’m talking about those that say such things as:

“Ew. You ship [pairing]? Gross!”

“I would like this better if A/C got together instead of A/B.”

The more extreme of these examples involve readers actually telling authors that they are terrible, disgusting people. The worst of the worse will even tell them to hurt themselves for writing their story. THIS IS NEVER ACCEPTABLE. EVER. If you (the audience) don’t like a certain chapter or pairing or plot point and have nothing but these awful, unhelpful things to say, just don’t. Keep scrolling and find a story You DO enjoy and comment on that. Not everyone must comment on everything. Yes. I want to create a circle of feedback culture. But I want to create a decent one where the audience not only consumes from but respects the creator and their efforts.

And yes, this includes constantly bombarding an author with predictions and suggestion and more suggestions and more suggestions. You get the idea. If an author says, “No. I do not take requests.” Or, “No. I do not write for that character/pairing/whatever,” Please respect that. We as fic authors are not your personal writing slaves. Nor are we often strapped for ideas. Unless we ask for toe suggestions, or, even better, you are going to pay us actual money (which I don’t think you can with fanfic), don’t bother us. It makes you seem annoying ... and needy and, speaking for just myself, is a quick way to get blocked.

Now, if you want to simply share or bounce ideas off of someone, that’s fine. But you must ASK FIRST. Do not just assume someone wants to take the time to listen to your ideas/help you. It’s great when they do. But some people just want to do and write their own thing and that’s fine. And try not to take it personally if someone won’t/can’t help you. After all, you never know what’s happening in their life in and out of fandom.

In short, please just be polite, readers. Don’t like something? Move on and comment on something you do. It’s a waste of everyone’s time to leave a review only to say you hate X ship/character/plot element. And it’s downright unacceptable to threaten or wish bodily harm ...On someone for doing nothing more than writing something you don’t like. In order to #BringFeedbackCultureBack we all need to communicate properly and politely. Because we won’t bring it back with nastiness.

OKAY, now that this has been said, I want to add the part that applies to a wider group: Readers who are not writers sometimes say they don’t know how or what to comment. And the thing is, even something small is perfectly acceptable. Most reasonable writers understand that we won’t get gushing essays from people who also don’t write. However, I also stand by the idea that you have to prove you read the story. Generic comments like, “Good job. Update soon.” Or, “Good chapter.” Are not enough because one, there have been bots made to spam comments like this, and two it doesn’t show you read anything. And doing that is as simple as quoting a line you liked or saying, “I liked the part when…” And just a line telling which part you liked. Did something make you smile? Laugh? Cry? Tell us about it! We want to hear it all! And any writer would be grateful for even those small comments, especially us who rarely ever get any.

Big Name Fans (BNFs): Y’all probably have the biggest, yet simplest role in all of this. You see, as a BNF, you have an audience. People who read your content and want to know your opinions on things. You are the people who made certain characters and ships popular and you have people that hang on to your every word. Some won’t even make a move if they don’t know it’s BNF approved. All this to say: YOU HAVE POWER. Often times, you have more power than you actually know. And part of your role is to know that power and use it to encourage and promote.

I’m not saying anyone must give up their taste or the content they like producing. Not at all. Don’t want to write for that ship? Don’t. Instead, I’m saying to give the unpoular more of a platform. If you have 50 fandom followers and a smaller writer has like, 10, even just a simple retweet or reblog with a comment saying, “Check out this fic I really liked” could help their fic reach more people than they ever would have alone! And you might say, well, if the fic is good, people will come. The fact is, no. They won’t. A well-written fic is worth nothing if you don’t “follow the rules.”

And what are “the rules?” Well, the thing is that fandoms are fickle. There are always going to be fandom/BNF “approved” favourite characters/ships/tropes/fic formulas that are guaranteed to bring in the comments. If you write outside of these things? Good luck. You might not get flamed or anything, but you will be ignored. And I’m not just talking out of my ass. Several people even here have corroborated this for their fanbases. And yes, I see it in my own even if the BNFs are in denial about it.

This is why the role of the BNF is so crucial to the movement. Without your support, we can’t get it off the ground. Like I said, what you can do is simple, just promote, promote, PROMOTE people and their writing, especially the unpopular. The rare pair writers. The ones who will never get the audience they deserve to have. Use your power to encourage and lift people up. Because if your audience sees you promoting and commenting and doing your part to spread the love, they might follow suit.

The cycle is simple: BNFs promote, readers comment, writers encourage readers, which makes the readers want to comment more and encourage more writers, who will then rise up and promote other writers and so on and so on.

It takes EVERYONE in a community to #BringFeedbackCultureBack. So, if you’re in, let the community know! Use the tag on places like Tumblr and Twitter. Show people I’m not alone. And if you’re one of those who feels you don’t need feedback, that’s fine. All I ask is that you don’t tear us down. Because most writers DO want it and they’re valid. The fact that we have to resort to “No comments, no content,” holding chapters hostage and outright begging and pleasing for comments does not make US pathetic. It speaks to the bigger issue surrounding a dying feedback culture that, now that we are aware of, we can actively work to fix.

And don’t forget, if you have experience facing these things and want to give your own testimonials about it, PLEASE do so. I can’t stress that enough. One person a movement does not make. I need help that only you all can give. I’m doing everything I can, but I’m only one person.

So then, who is with me?!

submitted by /u/LostButterflyUtau [link] [comments] from FanFiction: Where Magical Ponies battle Imperial Titans https://ift.tt/392xSEu

[lostbutterflyutau]

Always a Bridesmaid

Note: Part of the Mirror World AU’s “True Love” timeline, which started with THIS fic. I know my family fluff is the attention-grabber, but I was in the mood to write some (slight) angst with family thrown in.

And please, don’t forget to comment if you want to see more content from me!

Part of the For My Broken Heart collection.

***

“And… there,” Elena said as she gave Carla’s teal sash one last tug, stepped back to make sure it was perfect. She then came forward again, teased as she set her hands on Carla’s shoulders, “Don’t you look pretty?”

Carla flicked her eyes from her bracelet up to her reflection. From her professionally done hair and coordinated makeup down to the perfectly tailored black dress with a flared skirt, she did, in fact, look pretty on the outside. But inside she was screaming. Though, she didn’t let Elena know that. She just put on her best smile and thanked her for the compliment and coming to help her get ready.

Elena returned the smile. “You know I don’t mind. Now, hurry and find your shoes, you’ve got two sets of formals to get through.”

“Right,” Carla replied with a nod, doing her best to keep smiling as she turned to do just that and Elena left the room without a word. The moment Carla heard the door close, the corners of her mouth turned down. She grabbed the shoebox from the bed, stared at the heels inside. This was her third pair this year. Her third satin dress. Her third time watching someone else get their happy ever after.

She sighed as she sat, set the box back down. It wasn’t that she wasn’t happy for her father or any of her friends, she was. They deserved to be happy and find their forever.

First, it had been Elena and Mateo. They got married in a beautiful, albeit extravagant, ceremony that, despite its size, still managed to feel intimate. Then, there was Gabe and Naomi and the ceremony she forced herself to smile through but, once all the formal portraits and shots were done, she found an excuse to bail out. As pathetic as it was, there was still that tiny part of her that never healed from that rejection or the lesson she learned from it. Now, it was her father and Rafa’s turn. It was a wedding she would have never expected, but it was happening and she was thrilled for them both being able to find love after so long. And, next to all of that, she had two close friends planning weddings too.

The previous weekend, she’d gone to the Mirror World for her dress fitting for Anna’s wedding, which was just a few months away and had then seen the various designs that Rapunzel was busy dreaming up for her own wedding. By the time those two were wed by the middle of next year, she’d have five dresses under her belt, none of which were wedding gowns. It was like her whole life the past two years was surrounded by couples and weddings. Dress fittings, cake tastings, menu planning sessions… she’d sat through at least one of everything and did her best to be happy. After all, her insecurities weren’t their problem. But she could never quite reconcile herself.

Her heart was split into two parts. The first one still held onto those old dreams she had about finding her own love story and kept nagging at her to try, try again. The other one, the one that dominated, had accepted that her dreams were just that, dreams. And dreams were meant for sleeping, not reality.

She sighed a second time as she glanced up at the clock and carefully pulled on her shoes. She still had some time before she was meant to meet up in the garden with Rafa and her bridesmaids. It was a little weird taking the position that would normally be the “Best Man” but Victor insisted that she be at his side. Because of that, she’d dipped out of the bridal suite that morning and chose to get ready alone. Not only did she not feel like she belonged, but she quickly became numb to all of the hustle and bustle and happiness and, once she realised she was feeling that way, decided that it would be best to leave everyone be and not risk bringing them down with her own issues.

“Okay, Carla,” She told herself, walked up to the mirror. “This one is easy. It’s Papa and you’re happy that he’s happy.” She took in a breath, put the smile back on her face. It was true. This would be much easier than Gabe and Naomi’s wedding. It was her father. Not the person she used to feel so much for. Of course, nothing was his fault. He never knew how she felt. Besides, matters of the heart weren’t things to be toyed with, not when they were that serious. But, knowing that didn’t make the pain of that lesson go away even after five years.

After one last look at herself, she decided that she was ready enough and headed out, stopping along the way to step out on one of the many balconies, this one overlooking the section of the garden where everything was set up. She leaned over the rail, looked down at where some of the palace staff were doing their final checks. It all turned out beautiful with everyone helping in their own way. They had decided on something small and private and relied on the help of family and friends to bring it all together, wanting everyone to feel included, even if their parts were small. It brought everyone together, and they were all proud of the work they had done for this well-deserved happily ever after.

Despite her attempts to push the thought away all day, Carla couldn’t help wondering when it would be her turn. She then frowned at the idea, shook her head slowly to shake the thought off. It wasn’t a “when” with her, it was an “if.” “If” leaning towards “never” with the way her love life was going.

“There you are,” Victor said, his voice cutting through her thoughts.

“Oh, sorry. I got distracted,” Carla said as she stood straight, one hand still on the rail as she looked over it again. “It’s really come together, hasn’t it?”

Victor felt his eyebrow raise just slightly. While there was no denying his daughter’s acting skills – both from the way she grew up and the extra training she received as a theatre understudy – she’d always been terrible at lying to him. Her straight posture and smile indicated nothing but joy and love for the day and events to come, but there was something small and subtle in her eyes that told him everything wasn’t okay.

He sighed, stepped over and set a hand on her back, “What is it, Mija?”

“What do you mean?” She asked, blinking her eyes innocently and hoping that her father bought the act. She wanted to kick herself for letting anything but happiness to come through, because she was happy that he was getting a second chance at forever.

“I mean, what’s going on with you?”

Knowing she was caught; all Carla could think to do was cast her eyes off to the side. “Can we talk about this later? Maybe after you get back from your honeymoon?”

“And hope that I’ll forget to ask when I get back?”

“I just don’t want to ruin your day.”

He gave her a soft smile, hoped that it would help to reassure her as he brought both hands up to her shoulders. “There’s nothing you can do to ruin the day. Except not tell me the truth.”

Carla bit her lip, considered her options – not that she had many. Blowing him off clearly wasn’t a choice. He’d seen right through her smile and not saying anything would likely mess things up more than keeping quiet. Yet, she also didn’t feel like she could tell him the whole truth. Not when it was the exact opposite of what everyone else was feeling that day.

“Carla,” Victor pressed gently, rubbed her shoulders.

She sighed. The more time she wasted contemplating, the less time they would have to get the formal portraits and last-minute preparations done. Finally, she admitted, “It… Well – It’s not that I’m not happy for you, I am. But…”

“But?”

Carla could only sigh, her heart suddenly sinking in her chest. It was a such a simple question. One that actually had an equally simply answer. However, she couldn’t bring herself to say it, not even to her father. She sighed a second time, mustered up the strength to say something. To put it in a way that would be truthful but also vague.

“I mean it when I say I’m happy for you, but – ” She trailed off again, the words getting stuck in her throat. It felt like her tongue was tied in knots even as she continued, “But, I can’t help being sad at the fact that the same kind of happiness doesn’t seem meant for me.”

She paused another moment, explained further when she caught the curious confusion in her father’s gaze. “Look around, Papa! Everyone’s getting married like it’s as easy as picking wildflowers! The past few years my life has been filled with wedding plans and cake flavours and flowers and worrying about everyone else’s happiness!”

Victor’s face fell at those last words. He knew something had seemed off about Carla the past few weeks, but had he been so oblivious that he hadn’t noticed she was unhappy? He hated the idea. One of the major things he wanted in life was for his daughter to be happy and knowing that she might not be hurt him.

He asked, “Are you not happy?”

Carla startled. That was a question she hadn’t been expecting and one that she hadn’t thought much about if she was honest with herself. After a moment, she said, “Of course I am. How can I not be? I have a stable home and a family that’s growing, a decent job and plenty of friends to keep me company.”

It wasn’t a lie.  She supposed she was happy to some degree. Or, rather, there wasn’t much for her to complain about with how good her life had been going.

“But there’s still something missing, isn’t there?”

She hadn’t said it directly, but Victor could sense it in the way she described her life as full of weddings and other people’s happiness. He didn’t doubt that she was happy in many ways, but now that they were talking about it, he saw that the lack of a love life bothered her. As a child, she had been enamoured with his and Valeria’s love story and had spent hours planning and playing out weddings for her stuffed animals. When she got older, she turned to books and novels, probably dreaming as she read them of her own fairy-tale. But now, she seemed disillusioned.

When she didn’t answer, he tried again, this time with a different wording. “You still want your fairy-tale, don’t you?”

The second the words were out of his mouth, she felt like screaming and it took everything in her to not do just that. Of course, she still wanted her fairy-tale. She wanted to know what it was like to fall in love and have someone actually return your feelings. She wanted to be someone’s everything, to feel the same way that all of the heroines in her old novels did and experience the same utter bliss of happily ever after. But, as much as she wanted all of that deep down, she’d already learned her lesson. It was pathetic and she knew it, but after actually letting some of those feelings for someone in and allowing them build up so much a few years ago only to find out that he not only didn’t return them, but wanted someone else who she knew was a much better match and person in general, she decided that she couldn’t do it again.  

Finally, she admitted, “I’m over that. Those kinds of stories aren’t real. Not for girls like me.”

Again, she didn’t lie. She fully believed what she was saying. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe in love as a concept. She knew it was real and had seen it play out time and time again for not only her friends, but her colleagues and even random people on the street whenever she ran errands. It seemed like everyone had someone except her.

Victor blinked, took a minute to process everything she said. “What do you mean girls like you?”

Carla sighed, returned to the railing. “I just mean that love and marriage aren’t for everyone and I happen to be one of the unlucky ones.”

Victor stepped over to her side. “You don’t know that. You’re still young, Carla. You have time.”

She resisted the urge to huff at him, instead channelled that energy into her hand as her fingers curled into the fabric of her skirt. Sure, twenty-three was young, but with everyone else around her either getting married or in long-term relationships with a proposal likely to follow, she felt so out of place. So… behind.

Sensing the tension, Victor returned his hand to her shoulder, decided to ignore the hand of hers that was fisted in her dress. “You know, I didn’t marry your mother until I was thirty and she was twenty-six, and now I’m here, old as I am, getting married again.”

Carla pursed her lips at those words, thought carefully about her response. While she was beyond happy for her father and wouldn’t deny that, if anyone deserved to find love, it was him, she also knew deep in her heard that it just wasn’t in her cards. There had only been one person she ever let herself feel that way for and whom she wanted so much to like her back, but he just didn’t. He never had and never would.

Of course, it was his right to pick someone else. Feelings couldn’t be forced. Even attempting to force it would be wrong and she knew that no matter how much she liked him, even now.

Unfortunately, that meant she was going to be stuck in an endless circle of bridesmaid dresses and making everyone else’s dreams come true, at least for the next few years. She didn’t see much beyond that. Didn’t really want to. She only hoped that, by the time this seemingly endless parade of weddings was over, she would be okay with herself and her circumstances. Maybe if she kept telling herself that being single really wasn’t that bad, she’d eventually come to terms with it. But, she knew she couldn’t tell her father any of that, not right now. It was too much to unpack and she didn’t want to argue. Instead, she put on a smile, decided that the best course of action was to agree in some sense, even if it meant lying to herself and him.

“I guess you’re right,” She settled on. “Life does take a lot of turns. Who knows? Maybe one day love will be in my cards.”

“I believe that,” Victor reassured, moving his hand down to gently rub her back. “You’re beautiful and strong and smart and so many other things. And one day, someone will see that.”

‘Whatever you say, Papa,’ Carla thought, resting the urge to huff again. He had to say that. He was her father. All fathers thought their daughters were the most beautiful. But it also wasn’t the first time she’d heard it. Elena had told her the same thing a few months back when she finally had to admit why she was faking her way through planning Gabe and Naomi’s wedding. And just like she did then, she simply smiled at the compliment.

It was easier than admitting how she never connected with any of her dates, no matter how well-intentioned they had been – Well, aside from the blind date that told her he’d been expecting someone prettier. She’d taken a break after that. Dating was exhausting and pointless, especially when she knew she wasn’t going to get anything long term out of it.

Victor sighed to himself silently. He knew she wasn’t convinced. Perhaps it was intuition, but having raised her, he could always see when she was putting on a façade. But he also wasn’t sure what else he could say. He hated that his little girl seemed so unhappy about this but had to concede that it was a problem he couldn’t fix. It would be up to her whether she ever wanted to let someone in. After a moment of silence, he suggested, “We should get going. I know they’re expecting you for portraits.”

“Huh?” Carla turned, his voice shaking her out of her thoughts. “Oh, right.”

He kept his hand on her back as they headed towards the doors, gave her a gentle push in the right direction when they crossed the doorframe. And, though the gaping crack in her heart did not close up – nor did she think it ever would – something about the familiar comfort her father’s touch had always represented sent the smallest spot of warmth through her even as they separated and she went on to meet the painter. The feeling was then further aided by the familiar faces that spared her quick, but genuine smiles as they bustled about and got into position, all of them conveying their happiness at seeing her.

Giving them a small smile of her own in return, Carla let out a tiny sigh. And, despite herself, this time, the effort to push away the thought that romance wasn’t for her seemed somehow less overwhelming than it had been before. At least for now.