#and yes tumblr is annoying about discussing fanfiction

[orionsangel86]

There is a phenomenon happening on Tumblr right now which may be a product of the Twitter exodus or maybe its just modern fandom mentality vehemently rejecting the old, but you guys have GOT to stop being so damn MEAN about fandom.

There are posts circulating on Tumblr right now hating on so many aspects of fandom. Yeah we all know the incorrect quotes format can be cringe and most of the time its the same quotes used for every fandom ever reducing the characters to stereotypes. Yes we know most fandoms scramble to ship the two basic white guys over all the other characters. Yes we know your blorbo probably Does Not Fucking Say That. Yes we know A/B/O is weird AF (especially now its breached containment and found its way into mainstream hetero erotica). Yes we know SuperWhoLock was ridiculous and attempts to make modern shows into a new SuperWhoLock have got old fast.

But do you have to constantly drag these things all the time? Why is it suddenly cool and popular to ridicule and criticise and hate on peoples fun?

Let people be cringe

Let people play in the fandom sandbox

Let people have their fun

Not everything has to be an intellectual critique and it doesn't make you a better person to constantly shit on fandom ON THE FANDOM WEBSITE

Fandoms can be problematic, toxic, and infuriating at times. But all the negativity isn't making things better. Yeah okay some aspects of fandom can be annoying, but must we have so many call out posts go viral on here specifically for hating on parts of fandom culture? Yet people wonder why fandom creators are quitting and there isnt as much art and interaction on here as there used to be.

If you see another negative post shitting on aspects of fandom cross your dash, maybe think before you reblog it. Maybe ask yourself if that post may be hurtful to a mutual? Perhaps youve got a mutual who writers A/B/O or CharacterxReader fanfiction who doesnt wanna see your reblog of the callout post stating reader×character fanfic is gross, or perhaps your mutual creates fun text posts applying quotes to their fave characters and youve just reblogged a 90k+ note post calling them cringy and overdone.

Just THINK please. Its not necessary. We've got to be KINDER to each other. Please don't let this place become like Twitter. Twitter was a toxic cesspool where no one had anything worthwhile to add to the discussion, no one created, everyone was just screaming angry rants into the void. Dont let tumblr become like that, because it will be the death of this place. And where will you go to find fanart and gifsets of your blorbos then?

[opulent-today-slope]

I think I now realise why the “Hollywood's 13-episode streaming shows are shit” discourse on the social medias bothers me: it's a mix between the audiences batting for the 25-episode formula Hollywood used to do not realising how ridiculous its practice was to begin with, and how Hollywood itself is still using said practice that fails their new products before they get off the ground.

The argument for this 25-episode formula to come back usually is:

“There is more time for character development and understanding them as people who could exist, instead of vessels that recite words a writer made them say.”

And while there is truth here, sometimes I think supporters who say this have rose-tinted glasses from their nostalgia through fandom interaction.

I remember the 25-episode era very well and how annoyingly contradictory my favourite shows frequently got every week. Even at nine years old, I could feel the writers arguing with each other over how their interpretation is the correct one and how this is what the story should be about. (I think the people who argue this secretly feel it too. It's why most of their fanfiction exists, after all.)

Also, the possible scenarios we could've seen of the characters' day-to-day lives that would've given us a glimpse into character development or enrichment are instead nonsense episodes that I'd argue come off extremely forced.

“Oh, look! Stephanie has wooden figurines in her room she's established she makes herself in her free time when she's not fighting the mutant rodents! I hope they'll do an episode where she and her rival Derek settle their differences over woodwork and they tell each other about their lives, and then realise they have more in common than they thought and they become good friends! Oh wait, what? The show's doing an episode where the ensemble cast go to the beach for some reason. OK. ... Oh, it's a clip show.”

It was terrible to watch but now I've learnt more on how this format worked, Hollywood's 25-episode seasons are fine fading into obscurity, as far as I'm concerned.

“Just start watching from season two. It's way better,” people used to say about their favourite series online all the time, and sometimes the shows themselves make drastic changes from their debuts in season two. It's absolutely ridiculous audiences and Hollywood itself essentially allows these TV shows to waste time and resources like this. How many cancelled-after-one-season Hollywood shows have had their genuine potentials crushed through this systemic attitude?

This streaming era people moan about now is often compared to UK television where the only shows with more than 13 episodes are things like live television with a news edge, but UK TV is 100% prepared from the first ever episode and remains consistent throughout its run. Tumblr hated how BBC Sherlock went but its season two and three was more consistent than seasons one and two of Hollywood's version of The Office!

And I think because Hollywood doesn't run its television like this, that's the real reason people who argue this are annoyed with the streaming era. Hollywood could afford to fake it 'til they made it when season one had 20 episodes, but now there are eight, it's obvious the creators aren't prepared. Yes, there have been showrunners who've said in interviews that they want the season to feel like watching a movie, but then for every masterpiece, you get hundreds of streaming shows with 10 episodes giving its audience ten hours of ten trial-and-errors. And if the show's lucky, season two comes out completely different - sometimes with former major characters completely gone. No wonder no one's sticking around online for meaty fandom discussions the next day/month/three years!

this this this

[tenpintsof-sundrop]

Just got blocked by someone for “spam liking” their posts.. aka I found their fics through the search, read five in a row while in bed and liked them, and went to sleep. Woke up to go drop an ask about how much I enjoyed their stuff, reblog them from my likes, etc etc and I was blocked.. bro I don’t understand tumblr ~culture~ anymore. I just needed to sleep before putting my thoughts into words 😭 Tanisha I feel old and left behind

tbh this is something that gives me anxiety??

because so often, I will go onto someone's blog and like a bunch of posts specifically with the intention of queueing them or reblogging them later - especially because I have very specific preferences about how my blog is organized. so if someone's blog is 100% plushie themed or 100% DC themed, then I will like a bunch of their posts and intersperse those posts about things with other fandoms, because I much prefer when posts from different fandoms are alternated on my blog instead of there being huge blocks of several posts from the same fandom spammed at once

and yeah, as a fanfic writer, it does annoy me when someone makes it a habit of only liking my posts and never reblogging them. but with the fanfiction environment the way it is right now, if I went onto my fanfic sideblog and blocked every single person who only liked my fics instead of reblogging them, I would be blocking 80% of the people who read my fics. I would probably be blocking more than half my followers

and the whole point of posting fics at all is so that other people can enjoy them. I don't post fics for praise and admiration or because I want to see the posts get a lot of notes - I post the fics because I enjoyed writing them, and because I think they're good, so I want other people to enjoy them. if I wanted to stop people from seeing them (which is the purpose of blocking) then I just wouldn't post them at all. I genuinely do not get the logic of blocking someone who has been shown to enjoy your work

and with your situation - you can never tell if someone is liking a fic with the intention to reblog it later. everyone uses tumblr in their own way. and I am always tempted to block people with completely blank blogs who have proven that they do not use the reblog function at all - but even then, I don't want to block someone who clearly enjoys my fics.

(the only time I block someone for liking my fics is if they are a blatant thinspo blog, but that is a whole different rabbit hole)

yes, the primary function of this site is to reblog things, and it sucks that a lot of people don't use it, but blocking someone because they literally like and enjoy your posts is sooo insane. it feels like the equivalent of someone coming up to you irl, giving you a compliment, and then you being like "get the fuck away from me. how dare you"

and as far as the like vs reblog ratio aspect - (this is for Luna as well as for everyone reading, if you are someone who only likes fics and never reblogs them) I will always be more likely to write more for a fandom where my fics have more comments and more discussion, rather than more total notes (aka more likes).

if I am looking for a fic to make a sequel of, I never look at which fic has more likes - I look at which fic I personally enjoyed writing more or which fic people seemed more excited about in terms of discussion. if anything, a fic having more likes (and less reblogs and comments) deters me from making a sequel to it, because it just means that people are going to not leave comments on the sequel, or a fic having a lot of likes means that a lot of people are going to show up to the sequel feeling entitled for more (when that's not what I want for my fics lmao).

I have always counted fics as successful if they have fewer notes and more actual critical engagement.

but anyway - all that to say - fandom is pretty broken lately. people consume fanfiction far too quickly and mindlessly and then demand more, people harass fanfic authors rather than trying to participate in fandom, and fandoms are too large and over-saturated to be truly enjoyable unless you only engage with 10% of the current participants. which leads to stuff like this ^^ happening (aka people thinking others are being hostile toward them, when they are just well meaning and enjoying the same things as you)

[zeta-in-de-walls]

I’m making a reddit for DreamSMP fanfiction

Hey guys!! Okay so I’ve been thinking a ton about Dream SMP fanfiction over the last week. And much as I love it, I’m not all that good at finding the good stuff y’know? And I find that Tumblr’s not always the best medium to have discussions about fanfiction. 

So I was thinking we need a nice space to share and recommend and request fanfiction. That, believe it or not, translates to reddit.

Reddit is well designed as a wonderful place to rec and find fanfiction somehow. Fanfiction subreddits just work. You can make a post on something you’re looking for and then anyone who can help can comment. Then others can also read those comments and also discover new fics. It’s great to have discussion on niche topics on there as its nicely segmented but open. 

So I’ve decided to create a new subreddit for it. (There has been one or two attempts in the past but they looked a little dead so I thought I’d start from scratch.) It’s currently very basic but hopefully functional? I’ll work on sprucing it up more if I can get it rolling. 

https://www.reddit.com/r/DreamSMPfanfic/

And I would really appreciate your help!! I’m sure some of you don’t really know reddit but I’d adore it if you could help get it off the ground by making a few posts. (I’m pretty inexperienced too so if you’ve got any advice I’d love to hear it.) Just stuff like asking for some fics of a type so others can recommend stuff or reccing some good stories you know of. 

Thanks, I love you guys and it’d be so awesome to have a more organised way to search for fics and have fic discussion in this community. Even if it’s not entirely successful, I hope it’ll at least turn into a nice little archive for people looking for more stuff to read.

(Also reblogs for more attention would be very much appreciated. Thanks!)

[inspiteallthedanger]

Have you thought about that moment in Get Back where Paul says ''Good try that, Johnny'', and George says something immediately after to John, addressing him ''John'' pointedly? Like very pointedly. I mean it might have been discussed on Tumblr, but I just rewatched it on Youtube (it's in the beginning of a short video there called ''George's admiring Eric Clapton & Billy Preston'') and that moment always makes me smile and wonder. It's just a tiny second of interraction between the tree of them but a mess of so many possible feelings. It definitely sounds like George is either mocking Paul or in otherwise responding to the fact that Paul said ''JohnnY''. Like he's acknowledging that that petname sounds affectionate and is annoyed by that fact. It's also interesting to me that apparently it DID sound special/affectionate, it wasn't common for people to call John that, if George payed attention to it. It's like.. George's reaction in a way for me confirms Paul's affection which is why the moment makes me smile mostly. But also... they're not teenagers anymore but George is annoyed/jealous? That Paul likes John? That John's ass is kissed by Paul? That they were an annoying petname-calling team like that still? I mean it's kinda hilarious but also like our weird fanfictions are not so far from the truths. Sorry for that long rant over one second of Get Back, what do you think? :D

Hello. This is interesting, isn't it? My following response is assuming that this dialogue is presented in Get Back as it was (more or less) said in real life. Which, we know might not be the case. So, for a start, I’m ignoring the visuals in this. But, anyway, with that aside:

I do totally agree that George's 'John' does seem a pointed moment in response to Paul's ‘Johnny’. And yes! I think Paul's trying to create some sort of short-hand/intimacy with John there too. I think, overall, George is trying to win John over to his way of thinking in his on-going argument with Paul. I think it’s pointed because he’s sort of saying “Oh, no you don’t, Paul. You don’t get to win by pulling on your weird ass relationship with John.”

I’m not sure, entirely, why he’s annoyed. Because I don’t think it’s wildly unusual for Paul to call him Johnny in that context.

I wonder if it’s possible George's annoyed because Paul says it was good. Then sort of pauses and only calls out John as being good, and George takes that to mean Paul thinks George wasn't good? I can’t remember what they’ve just finished playing, so assuming they’ve all just done a song, that could be part of it?

But overall, I think he’s annoyed because he's trying to win the argument that he's been having with Paul since the start of the sessions i.e. how they should go about crafting these songs. So, he's mostly disagreeing with Paul that the take was good.

I do think this is part of George's on-going issues with the whole idea of the project. Specifically, he's talking here about why he can't do what Paul wants him to do: stop and fix each wrong note as they go (by which George thinks Paul thinks he should just automatically know how the song ought to go), or allowing them to play through it and figure it out once they have the overall shape.

I'm not sure if George is just very insecure during these sessions or what, but it's a clear through line from this chat to "You need Clapton for that" where John says, "We need Harrison". And likely why John jokes they should just bring him in when George leaves.

None of the Beatles were good at just jamming - when they tried it, apparently it was often terrible. Paul's dismissive, "That's jazz, man," is meant to say, "So what if Eric does that? Doesn't make him better than us, or what you do." Anyway, I think this is all part of them trying to get John to weigh in on one of their sides. Which is interesting, because by all accounts that isn’t what he ever did. Let alone by this time in their relationship.

Anyway, none of this takes away from anything you’ve put here. I just think it’s more about them more directly fighting for John’s approval/agreement. Which John is resolutely not about to do...

It’s also funny/sad that George thinks that Paul and John still likely have that bond. I mean, they do but the very timid sort of way Paul says ‘Johnny’ sort of suggested that he’s not even sure of his place with John currently. Like, he’s trying to get John engaged and in doing so is excluding George. The dynamics are wild and painful to behold!

[hakka84]

^ Manipper here and I agree. I never actually had the chance to make a NC-17 manip so far (Tumblr censorship thought otherwise, though). And yes, it's the same thing. And I always hated those that policed manips, while saying nothing about explicit arts (even realistic ones). But the double standard is not the point. The point is that policing fandom is always wrong.

The discussion about the use of AI is one thing - one can be fine or not, although the use of voice AI doesn't replace any artist or writer (like AI rendering arts or text does). It's the reason why this post was made that rubs me the wrong way. It doesn't appeal to the ethics of AI as its whole but on a supposed consent of the actors. As @katherynefromphilly well pointed out, the actors didn't consent to anything fandom does with their images and jobs (=roles). Neither Bradley James nor Colin Morgan haven't consented to the Merlin/Arthur sex arts. They haven't consented to the fanfics depicting their characters having sex. And, if you remember well, Colin wasn't that much happy when Eoin mentioned the slash pair, and quickly shut Eoin up. Bradley said something ambiguous back then, but in the recent years I got the feeling he's not a fan himself - he just doesn't care, but isn't a Merthur fan (or perhaps he's just fed up with Merthur more vocal fandom and said vocal fans ruined Merthur for him) (I don't think Colin was annoyed, he just didn't want to get dragged in that hole - but he could be also annoyed, who knows: anyone could be legitimately annoyed at the thought of people pairing the characters him and his friend play. Anyone could be annoyed at think that they put all themselves into portraying a friendship and people come and slash that friendship into a sexual relationship)

Not all actors are like Zachary Quinto and Chris Pine who went "lol" at the Spirk slash, or the trolling that Shatner did in the last decades (and he likely changed his mind in the last years). Not all actors are Misha Collins, who probably is lurking in AO3 writing Dean/Cas slash in the year 2024. Anyone ever bothered to wonder how Kristen Stewart and Robert Pattinson might have felt when 50 Shades debuted and it became public that the story was originally a Twilight fanfic? They could be genuinely weirded out. What about actors who are asexual/sex-repulsed, who perhaps attempted to make their character on screen the more asexual they could (given the constraint of the character not belonging to them), and they see their characters in dom/sub tropes or in Omegaverse settings. What about actors with a past of abuse (sexual, drugs, whatever) who get their characters being raped or being drugs addicts in fanfictions? I know I will say something very political incorrect, but do anyone of us in fandom stop to ask if the actors are even LGBT-friendly, before turning their (canon-established) straight characters into queer? No. (And probably fandom would double up in the slash just to spite the actor) But wouldn't doing this mean we wouldn't care about the actor's consent in the first place?

If we want to discuss about "actors consent" than we better close up AO3 and write only original art.

Alright, I just saw a post using voice cloning of Colin Morgan and Bradley James for a smutty Arthur x Merlin fanfic scene and it’s not ok. I’m going to message the creator and the author of the fanfic and explain why it shouldn’t be on there, but please if you see it do not reblog it or endorse it.

AI voice cloning is not ok. AI has no business in art. The actors did not consent.

I truly don’t wish any hate to anyone, but this is not a topic that should be taken lightly. It’s not an issue of “oh it’s just not for me” it’s an issue of consent and what is morally ok to do.

[cavehags]

why do you hate headcanons so much its just fun and silly twitter also headcanon's jo as a lesbian and brad and jo as autistic is that somehow horrifying to you

this hostility is so bizarre to me. headcanons are just (an incredibly stupid word for) fan interpretations of media. i do not hate fans interpreting their favorite shows. i think the fact that people can close-read a text and come away inspired to think more deeply about who the characters are is a good thing. but there’s a tricky thing with interpretations: some are better than others. good interpretations synthesize the information provided in the text with a mature understanding of the outside world in order to build on the text in a meaningful way. they fill in the negative space of the fictional world. other interpretations bring in an understanding of one or more of these elements that is flawed. they rely on tired tropes or stereotypes or they veer away from anything based in evidence entirely. these types of (please don’t make me say this dumb word) h**dcanons diverge from the text in order to build on fans’ desires to see wishes fulfilled.  

an earlier term for headcanons common within a fandom was “fanon.” in the essay One True Pairing: the Romance of Pornography and the Pornography of Romance, australian researcher catherine driscoll critiques the tropes fans bring into fanfiction by commenting on fanon as follows: 

Fanon is not an inferior interpretation of canon in this light, but a fantasy based on the needs of individual writers rather than the reality established by shared source text.

later in the same essay, she adds:

Fanon connotes undiscerning identification with an unreal object. In fact, fanon is also associated with naive writing styles and is opposed to stylistic sophistication, demonstrating that fanon is less about strict lists of canonical content than about the specter of fantasy.

driscoll argues that there is nothing inherently bad or wrong with fans interpreting a text as they see fit, but in studying fan communities closely, it is clear that there is nothing particularly enlightened about fanon either. in any analysis, fans bring their understanding of the world to the table. if the way they see the world is immature, the fanon they reproduce will be bad. if they see the world through a lens that is--just to name one example--racist, then guess what? their fanon is going to be racist. in the case of the “gay brad” interpretation, fanon is a naive, horny fantasy. i find this opinion utterly bewildering. but i also own that there are a lot of takes out there that are a lot worse. for some examples of how fanon can become reductive to the point of reinforcing racism and misogyny, perpetuating pedo culture, and more, i recommend dipping into the avatar the last airbender tags on tumblr dot com. the fandom is overrun with them. 

to circle back to your original question, i think fan interpretations can be good or they can be shitty. when i talk about media on the internet i want to have a coherent conversation with other adults that builds on the text in a meaningful way, so i get irritated when all i find is weird wish-fulfillment overidentification stuff that would be better discussed in therapy. 

and finally - yes, the ideas you brought up are completely unfounded and annoying. jo is a straight queen. have some respect for god’s sake.

[millenialfanfictionaddiction]

WHAT THE DAMN HELL?! That's it! I'm coming off anon for this.

Someone sent YOU hate? I mean did they need read your rules where it specifically says you do not write for minors? I need these holier than thou buttholes who defend fictional minors to use their time and go out to help real life minors who have abused.

Bestie, you run the most unproblematic blog I have come across. If your blog was anything like that idiot anon tried to insinuate it was, I would not be a follower or interact with you.

Also, to that anon, come on, don't be shy, tell us who you are. My fist just wants to discuss some things with your face. 😀

We're here for you bestie. We got your back.

Also, I am spooky anon 👻

🤗🤗🤗

Wait ✋🏻 😱 SPOOKY ANON??? OMG HI 🥺🥺🥺

Ope 👀 spooky anon went IN 😬

So I think I've come to the conclusion that this anon was most definitely a minor. Meaning, that that we are probably closer in age to the HQ characters than they are 😅 I'm assuming they went anon because they jusy wanted attention, which they got.

I think alot of us know that alot of fanfiction writers are college aged and above. These are the content creators on this app. Yes there are young adults who write and draw very well, but alot of us are adults. We started our obsession with anime young and it just grew. I still watch Pokémon and Beyblades with my kids! I will not apologize for writing for characters I enjoy and I most definitely don't write inappropriate underage material.

I use gifs because I like gifs. I use timeskip imagines when I'm talking about timeskip teams. I also do alot of warnings to make sure I cover everything.

It's annoying that I feel like I have to defend myself but it's a trauma response. I constantly feel like I need to make sure people know I'm doing what I'm actually doing and doing it to the beat if my abilities.

I truly appreciate all of your support bestie, along with the support of all of my other followers. At this point, I just want to write and enjoy anime with the people on Tumblr 🥰

[paper-n-ashes]

I... am probably going to get some kind of hate or backlash for this but... it’s kind of been sitting on my mind and I think it needs to be put out there.

This is going to be an essay. And I am not a confident or confrontational person so this is real scary for me.

I know how easy it is to take this - all of this blogging, writing, any creative outlet really - a little too seriously. For a lot of us, it’s a lifeline of positivity and a wonderful distraction to the shit show of daily life in 2020/2021. Certainly saved my ass last year. And I spend a lot of my waking hours thinking about it, because it’s my hobby and I adore it.

But (and I remind myself to do this CONSTANTLY) can we collectively take a breath and chill a little bit?

Let me explain.

I’m just seeing little hints poking through of toxic judgemental attitudes regarding how ‘legitimate’ someone’s fanfiction or writing is. That there’s somehow this divide between ‘real’ writing and ‘fast food’ fanfiction. I, for one, really dislike the term but I’m using it here to prove a point.

All of it, every piece put out into the public space, is valid. And I think it’s good to be reminded about that concept every so often.

We are all different people. With different experiences and preferences. We all seek out and consume different things, sometimes surprising even ourselves when we discover something new we didn’t think we’d enjoy.

Some people like more plot heavy and meaningful fanfiction. Those pieces or series’ that effect you and move you, play on your emotions in any and all ways. Some are short, some are 300k novels written over long periods of time. Some are canon, fix it fics or prequels, some are brilliantly imaginative AU’s involving our favourite worlds and characters we know and love.

Others enjoy (sometimes) quicker, sexually charged fanfiction. Fantasies played out in written form. Explorations of sexuality on a vast spectrum of more ‘vanilla’ (whatever that means to you) and more hardcore themes outside the regular realm of sex you might be used to. Characters we find attractive in places of canon or AU territory to thrill ourselves and others, or even just simply to scratch an itch.

Some enjoy both, on differing days. Dependant on moods or needs at the moment in time.

No matter what - All. Is. Valid.

None is better. None is worse.

When you read something you consider exactly or close to what you’re looking for from fanfiction, it is absolutely normal that you consider the piece, and the writer, of a higher standard. But this standard is subjective. Please remember this.

Don’t look down on others who enjoy something you don’t consider as having this standard. And certainly don’t have a lower view of the writer who put themselves out there to write it and post it.

We’re all judgmental fucks at times. I’ll easily admit I am, and have been. I’m in my late 20’s and still learning to be an emotionally intelligent human. I definitely have moments I’ve had to catch myself out. There are things I could rant on for days because of how much they irk me. And I believe it’s healthy to express your emotions about anything. But I do not put it into the public arena. I try my absolute fucking hardest not to let it colour any of my online interactions.

(This is the first time I’ve really put out a significant opinion in my own post and it’s fucking frightening. Seriously.)

Anyway,

If something is bothering me enough in terms of irks, that are completely subjective and my own, I speak to a trusted friend, to get the thoughts out and move on. And even then, some of those thoughts I’ve eventually pondered over and regretted the judgments I made.

But I will ALWAYS defend the right in this fanfiction realm for every writer to write about whatever the hell they want and not be looked down on or belittled for it.

If you are annoyed that certain pieces or writers get ‘popular’ or receive adoration you don’t believe they deserve - STOP YOURSELF RIGHT THERE. You can be annoyed. Go for it. Let yourself feel. But do not spread that negativity. Do not make yourself feel better by bringing others down in public view. It is not an appropriate coping mechanism.

Popularity is a whole other concept I do not have time to fully delve into. But it seriously happens by a decent combination of hard work that people don’t see, the right timing and LUCK. You cannot control it, and it will seriously help your mental health to not attempt to pursue as your goal. I speak from experience.

Whatever your reason for reading or writing fanfiction is, take a moment sometime to remind yourself we are at the end of the day just... fans. Fans of characters, actors, movies, TV shows, all of it. To be a fan is to be an enthusiast of anything that truly captures your interest. We just... like something or someone so much we read more about it, talk with others about it, even create more content about it.

Fandom is one of the coolest things I think humans have ever brought into fruition. People from all over coming together to love and discuss something that brings them joy or challenges their mind. And I’m sorry but I’m just getting a little tired of the competitiveness and superiority complex that works to make fandom a fucking shitty place to hang around in sometimes.

I am not saying everything has to be sunshine and roses, because there are lines that can be crossed and every good thing has it’s bad side. But... this is for happiness. At least, for me it is. Some days, writing out somewhat incoherent, horny thoughts and shorter stories brings me happiness. Sometimes writing out emotional turmoil and long, plot driven novel work brings me happiness. It’s just how my brain gives me that serotonin I crave, and I can’t excessively control that.

When people like one and not the other, I don’t care. I really don’t. I don’t need an explanation. It’s not personal. It’s just what brings THEIR brain serotonin, and I will never judge them for that. I’ve at least brought them a little bit of enjoyment in whatever way and that is just... fucking cool when you think about it.

Can’t it just be as simple as that? Fuck all the ‘popularity’ and legitimacy and notions of what is ‘better’?

Just do what brings you happiness, and give love/support/whatever to others who have done the same for you in what they’ve written.

That’s... it really. That’s all I needed to get out.

Okay. Anons. Yes feel free to counter me and make me feel poopy for my opinion because this is Tumblr and I’m not naive. Just know I probably won’t answer any hateful messages because I’m a wuss and can’t think of good witty replies.

[ao3-sucks]

An Archive of Someone’s Own: my experiences being groomed in fandom circles on AO3

TW: Childhood sexual abuse, grooming, mentions of incest and rape.

I used to be a big writer of fanfiction. It was the logical choice for me. I loved to write and create bold and immersive worlds, and I craved an audience who would enjoy my work as much as I did. Since my writing wasn’t actually good, I needed a community of other amateurs who wouldn’t mind that, and by tweaking my characters and settings into ones from canonical media, I got the audience I so craved.

I started writing fanfiction online when I was 14, posting initially on FanFiction.net and then moving to AO3 a few months later. As I got back into writing original fiction towards the end of high school, I lost interest in this community, and it’s been a long time since I posted anything much on AO3.

I’ve always struggled with the fact I display a lot of symptoms of CSA, and for the longest time, I couldn’t figure out why. Throughout my teen years, I refused to get changed or bathe when anyone was even vaguely nearby, constantly paranoid about being spied on; I developed a severe touch phobia, and would have frequent panic attacks from something as small as brushing arms with a passerby; I resolutely identified as asexual and refused to get into anything resembling a relationship with others because the very concept disgusted and repulsed me.

Weird, considering I had grown up pretty normal and all of these symptoms had started around my early teens. It was only when I told my friends about my friendship with a 30 year old I had met online that the pieces started falling into place for me.

Child grooming is usually discussed in the context of one adult going out of their way to befriend a child with the goal of lowering their resistance to sexual abuse, through normalisation and friendliness. I’d like to talk about how that worked on the fanfiction website AO3. Since it’s an open website and most communication takes place between anonymous users or accounts in the comments section of a work, there is very little delineation between spaces for adults to discuss whatever dark topics they like and spaces for kids to do the same.

This frequently leads to pretty inappropriate conversations between people of widely varying ages and life experiences, which is how I ended up talking sex as a fourteen year old with people ranging from a couple of years older than me, who were generally okay, to more than twice my age. The 30 year old in question listed on her profile how many pedophilic ships she loved, and she knew my age but pushed me to keep discussing sexual topics with her. Sounds like a red flag, yeah? Well. I was 14, and very stupid.

This 30 year old woman, who I will call Aku (because it’s similar to her screen name and because it’s funny to name her after the bad guy from Samurai Jack) would start conversations with me whenever I posted anything to AO3 and would refuse to take no for an answer when I tried to back out of conversations with her, and since these conversations were public and occurring within comments, I didn’t want to be rude to her since this was taking place on content I was trying to promote.

I told her my age multiple times and she would either pretend she forgot from last time (saying her memory is super bad) or continue as though it was just trivia about me and not a sign she shouldn’t have been pushing me. My primary objection to what she would say to me (since most of it was just her being annoying) was her insistence on sexualising everything I wrote, and her determination to push me into writing pornographic content, which I eventually gave in to.

Yes, she was a terrible person. She emailed me using her personal email address, so I know her full name and place of residence, because she’s an idiot. These emails also contain sexually explicit materials. Nothing much ever happened between us except for these very creepy interactions and the fact we remained online friends for a few years. But here’s the thing: she wasn’t the only person pushing me into creating sexual content. Lots of people would comment on my writing demanding that I show explicit sexual content when I really didn’t want to.

After a while it felt like I couldn’t write a longer, romantic fanfiction without including explicit sexual content. Like my work wasn’t valid without it. Other, more popular writers were usually sexual in their content, and I wanted to be like them and bring in the views, right? So, when I look at my back catalog of works, I can see how my content moved from completely non-sexual to featuring sexual content over time, and the views usually came with. In this way, I was in an environment that was encouraging me on many levels to sexualise my own work, which impacted the way I thought about my creative process.

Here’s another example I remember. When I was a young sprout, I remember reading down someone’s list of fanfiction recommendations and seeing a work called Hug Therapy, which I promptly read. While the work is marked as explicit and containing the Loki/Thor pairing, the use of relationship and rating tags on AO3 is so poorly regulated that it didn’t really mean anything to me to see either of those. People tag hardcore material as non-explicit and tag friendships as relationships, because there’s no motivation to tag properly. Plus, someone I followed here on Tumblr had recommended it to me.

Now, you wouldn’t know from the listing, but while this piece starts out as comedy, it turns out in the end to include rape, incest, and BDSM in very explicit terms. The fact it was tagged as being explicit didn’t slow me down, because the liberal use of these tags could mean that an explicit tag was just there because sexual content was implied or mentioned, which I thought would be the case based on the rest of the listing. Out of curiosity, I recently tried to report this work to the moderators for containing no warnings about incest or rape, and I got this in response:

“Selecting “Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings” satisfies a creator’s obligation under the warnings policy. Users who wish to avoid specific elements entirely should not access fanworks marked with “Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings”. Our Terms of Service note: “You understand that using the Archive may expose you to material that is offensive, triggering, erroneous, sexually explicit, indecent, blasphemous, objectionable, grammatically incorrect, or badly spelled. ….. This decision is in accordance with our policy of maximum inclusiveness; we have therefore closed this case and will not be investigating further.”

Which, yeah, I guess. The frustration comes from how ‘Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings’ is an extremely commonly used tag, and most things that it’s used on are totally harmless.

This fanfiction, which I was recommended by a friend, is hugely popular, in the top 60 most read fanfictions in the entire fandom. You wanna hear the kicker? The author, Astolat, is one of the founders of AO3. They’re not just some random author who isn’t following the rules. They’re a creator of the whole website, and they made the rules. This is pretty telling about how seriously the website actually takes protecting their users.

My final example I want to give is one of fetish content. People in fetish communities generally (not always) say that fetishes are probably something one should work up to after the onset of sexual activity, especially potentially harmful stuff like BDSM. In the circles I was running in, if you weren’t sporting a fetish or two (no matter your age) you were a boring bitch.

Maybe this isn’t true of everywhere in the fanfiction community, but I used to feel that bizarre pressure until I got out. Bear in mind that my main time in this community was from ages 14 to 17. I never made my age a secret, either. I told people outright I was that age, I was in high school, I was playing hockey and studying The Great Gatsby when I wasn’t online.

Since I was in the Avengers fandom and I liked Loki and the Asgardians, I was frequently exposed to incestuous content between Loki and Thor, and a lot of it came out of nowhere or was poorly tagged. This was considered the norm, and while I at first felt completely horrified and repulsed, within a year or two I no longer gave a shit. It’s only in the last few years as I’ve begun to unpack everything that I’ve started to get that strong revulsion reaction to incestuous content.

In the circles I was in, it was relentlessly normal. Normal to the point that people who disliked it were usually shouted down. Even to this day, debate rages on in fandom spaces about whether or not content like this normalises this kind of abuse. In my own personal experience, which I don’t usually like to talk about, it absolutely does.

In real life, this normalisation started to have serious consequences for my mental health and interpersonal relationships. In fanfiction, any occasion when you are alone with someone could become sexual, any familial relationship is possibly sexual, and it doesn’t matter if you like it or not. I became incredibly anxious around male family members for fear of being sexually assaulted, and my OCD, which I had been developing since I was a child, turned from thoughts of physical violence to thoughts of graphically sexually assaulted by anyone and everyone around me.

My fear of being touched got to the point where I would have panic attacks if anyone came anywhere close to touching me. I quit sports, fucked up my romantic relationships, and didn’t hug anyone, not even members of my family, for years. All the while, I had bought my first laptop and was consuming more fanfiction than ever before. I struggled with my sexuality growing up, as I am bisexual, and while fanfiction provided LGBT content to help me, the content was frequently so disturbing that I viewed any expression of sexuality as something evil and predatory.

The community on AO3, whether you like it or not, is often sexual, and provides no barriers between the casual user looking for content and extremely intense fetish material. It’s sometimes called the Pornhub of fanfiction, but considering the wide range of people who use it, it’s more like if you opened Youtube and saw niche hardcore fetish videos just on the front page, recommended and trending.

Sure, you have to click a little button to confirm you’re 18 before you can actually read a story, but the tags and descriptions of readily available works can be extremely explicit. Fanfiction also brings you into close contact with fellow readers and the author, and encourages you to become a content creator, which in some ways makes it more dangerous.

I was affected much more strongly by what I saw than most people would be, because I was already treading shaky ground. But I’m also not the only person out there who has been hurt in this way. Most of my friends who grew up in fandom can report the impact that fanfiction culture had on them. One of my friends from high school knew a panoply of porn terms at age 14 or so due to reading fanfiction, and another of my other friends at high school almost exclusively read rape porn because it was her favourite. I didn’t have friends who watched porn; I had friends who read fanfiction. These are just as troubling to me as any other accounts of young people consuming visual porn from a very early age.

It’s frequently cited that fanfiction gives minority groups the opportunity for creative outlet. It was a great place for me to cut my teeth as a content creator, and a source of acceptance and kindness when times were tough. Fanfiction communities have historically been the domain of women and minorities, and create a space for these people to tell their own stories.

It’s largely because of this that fanfiction communities fear censorship and strict moderation, as they have been attacked in the past on homophobic or misogynistic grounds, resulting in mass deletions of works or the shutdown of websites. But there must be some middle ground between total censorship and the kind of free rein that puts vulnerable people in danger, and I strongly encourage the board of AO3 to seek this middle ground out.

But it’s the community itself that needs to shape up; AO3 is, after all, a community-led website built by fans for fans, so the fact that this website has such issues is a reflection of the issues that run deeply within the people who created it. Aku didn’t talk to me with the intention of doing me harm, or so I believe at this time, and she didn’t pursue me as a lone wolf or in isolation.

She was simply a particularly brazen member of a community that was used to having inappropriate conversations with young people and sexualising everything they did. Even people my own age were jokingly pushing me into discussing and consuming extremely sexual content. It was just normal. That’s what I want to say here. Inside the world of fandom on AO3, the grooming of children with sexual content is normal. And that’s scary.

- Mod Daft

[kirbyspits]

A lot of Makorra shippers only moved on because they’re afraid of being called homophobic for not shipping korrasami. I LITERALLY saw someone on Instagram yesterday call a makorra shipper homophobic just for saying korrasami came out of nowhere. Also, Korrasami shippers LOVE to bring up the "popping bottles" backlash to make fun of makorra shippers. I left the tlok fandom in 2014 bc it was so toxic as a teenager, but now i’m 23. I’m no longer afraid of shipping something i always loved.

Ah, yes, I realized I didn’t address the fandom's toxicity in the last ask, but I’ve spoken about it before. I don't talk too much about the past because I was at the edge of the fandom back in 2014/2015. I was aware of fights, but the discussions I saw were moreso on bi-erasure. I saw one post saying it was wrong to ship Makorra. I remember being really confused about why Makorra was actually problematic, but I didn’t appreciate being told who I can ship the only dark-skinned woman protagonist on a major television network with. Why are you forcing me to ignore Mako and Korra’s relationship? Book 1 is practically about Mako and Korra, all other characters be damned. Me preferring the story of one pairing and a popular romance trope, second chances, is not wrong, and no one would know how I view the LGBT+ community based on who I ship in one show.

I ended up leaving the community because I was disappointed with season 4 in general. When Korra was released on Netflix, I figured it was time to rewatch the series again (plus, I’ve been binging all my favorite romance anime). So imagine my shock when I created a new Tumblr and Twitter account to rant and rave about TLOK, and I saw nothing but hate and name-calling in the Makorra tags. I saw people casually throwing around the word “homophobic,” and one person said people who don’t like Korrasami are just misogynistic. 

I just wanted pretty pictures, and people are out here psychoanalyzing shippers! So, I dug through some blogs and to feel more grounded with this fandom I didn’t recognize. After reading through their commentaries and experiences, I actually became more upset at Bryke than the teenagers/children who comment on Makorra posts saying how much better Korrasami is or accuse Makorra shippers of being homophobic. 

Yes, I truly believe these comments are mostly coming from people in their late teens and younger, at least in 2020. I can’t speak on 2014/2015, but since we were younger, the early 20s/late teens, I wonder if our age group was also the loudest. Don’t get me wrong, adults can be horrible people and can get really nasty. However, every time I look up the rudest commenters' profiles, they were teens. When one Korrasami shipper wrote “screw Makorra” on my AMV, I figured I’d have some fun trolling them until I clicked on their profile and saw a child. Needless to say, I ignored them and reflected on how parents are allowing their babies on TikTok while my parents freaked out at the idea of showing my picture on FB growing up. 

*I’m not still mad about that*

Also, while it doesn’t give anyone an excuse to make such a strong accusation, part of me, as a straight person, feels like I can’t get too upset because I also become very aware of my privilege. The space I’m in is a majority of young LGBT+ fans (at least on Twitter where I’ve seen the most toxicity). Some people see TLOK as their safe space and imply why should there be Makorra shippers when they have all these other cis/het shows they can engage with. It doesn’t work like that, of course. TLOK doesn’t only feature Bi characters. They’re POC/Indigenous, women, and Korra has dark skin. That’s a lot of marginalized communities. Makorra/TLOK is my comfort show, not because she’s with a man, but because of the reasons I just listed. Also shipping Korra with Mako doesn’t mean she’s no longer bi. She’d still be attracted to women.

Here’s who I am upset with tho, Bryke. Mostly Bryan. While Makorra shippers called out Korrasami shippers for cyberbullying, the focus seemed to be on Bryan for making it seem like there was something wrong with them for not finding Korrasami’s narrative satisfying. It was especially sad to read bloggers who identified as being part of the LGTB+ community saying Bryan’s hetero-lens dismissed their experience and then having to defend/proving themselves to anonymous messengers. 

Fans saw it as a betrayal. They saw it as the go-head for the rude Korrasami shippers to harass Makorra artists because they “didn’t watch the show correctly.” When the creator, the person you admire, also puts the blame on you, that kind of pain is on another level.

Korrasami shippers played a huge role in kicking Makorra shippers out of the fandom, but we can’t underestimate how much Bryan’s statement is a slap in the face. He used his characters and social justice as a shield for reasonable criticism. Just because we say a story is bad and Asami is grossly underwritten doesn’t mean that we’re against the idea of Korra and Asami being a couple. 

Of course, I’ve seen some very problematic statements from Makorra shippers. After all, homophobia is real. However, aside from the actual bigots, people have no issue with Korrasami. They just wanted a stronger connection between the girls. Many people seem to think Makorra shippers were looking for more romance, but we know we couldn't expect that. We can expect more screentime, musical cues, and more emotional support, which most people can see as platonic, but be romantic if you really want to. Mako’s interactions in book 4 can be seen as platonic, but all of us Makorra shippers saw it to be romantic.

Popping bottles! I completely missed that joke in 2014 and I discovered it this year. I agree it’s pretty annoying, but I become a troll and say I’m popping bottles for my Makorra moments. I don’t get any engagement, but I don’t seem to lose followers for it. Maybe popping bottles represents “straight-baiting?” I don’t get it why it’s so funny after all this time, but we’re Makorra shippers. We’re the joke 🙄

Anyways, to wrap up, lately, there seems to be a bit of a shift on Twitter. When I first created an account. I stayed in my little corner live-tweeting about TLOK and Makorra. I had to stop looking at the Makorra tag because it was so negative. Now, I’m seeing people admit they’re cute, and then saying they’re platonic soulmates. I’ll take it, although, as one commenter said, “that’s boring!” 

Someone led a Makorra Week back in October, and it was really nice! I have feeling people speaking up on the name-calling and reminding people that we’re talking about 2D characters helped. We just want to be left alone and enjoy the scenes we have in the show, art, and fanfiction. 

Keep shipping who you want! Don’t let any stranger shame you for your shipping preferences, especially in fiction! I’m so happy you feel more comfortable shipping these two dorks! You’re not alone! I’ve been a Makorra shipper since 2012, and while I find Korrasami cute (I love Korra, and I love Asami), Makorra is my OTP. I really like them, and I think they were meant for each other.

[theelliottsmiths]

It makes me really sad how people happily consume deep, obviously hard won, creative output but aren’t at all prepared to accept that sometimes that battle gets a little ugly. Like you’re consuming content that obviously attracts a lot of criticism, and is completely impossible to do even from a practical point of view (recording, touring, etc.) without leaving the security blanket of employment, social security or society’s approval but expect the people in it to just ... not ever stand out or to misfit or be uncomfortable. It reminds me of what we had the other day, there is a fascination with darkness and wildness and being rebellious, but rarely are the onlookers prepared to deal with the blood and the tears and the dirt. I don’t understand that.

I mean I am basically expected to defend Richard at this point, but the thing is, he’s probably insufferable a lot of times. What gets to me whenever this comes up though, is that all the attributes people apply to him that are negative, almost all exclusively come from himself. Like, people read those interviews and for like one exception where Schneider is being a dick, it’s not like the others say “Richard was too controlling and dramatic” it’s him saying “yeah, I did that and that’s why I moved.” It’s like ... all the negative things people believe about him come from himself. People think he thinks he did the main stuff on Mutter because he went and said “I did too much on that album.” Because the rest of the band is pretty mum about it. And it makes me suspicious, and again, sad for him, that he is perceived that way because he goes out there and dares to show that vulnerable and flawed side of himself and admits what he’s done, and now he’s the boogieman because the others don’t say what they did, too.

Sorry for the emotional ramble, I’m thin skinned today, but I don’t know, people that make themselves vulnerable that way often get treated that way, and it just depresses me.

Disclaimer for the previous anon: this isn't about you specifically, this is a general thing

I think a lot of the issue is that most of the community on Tumblr are quite young and are still coming to terms with just how grey people are (not to mention we have no experience with 40 year relationships because the majority of us are half that, literally babies when it happened)? Because the reality is yes, people have flaws that are more offputting than lovable quirks and that's okay. The expectation that none of us should ever be annoying or have moments of cuntishness or self-centeredness is unrealistic and unfair, and the guys understand that well enough not to hold it against each other forever, especially when it's actively being improved. There are limits and he hit them, but that doesn't mean throw the whole boy out. He has so many good traits that balance it out!!! They clearly decided he was worth enough to them in other ways to keep around, the good times were enough to outweigh the bad ones.

I honestly think they all agreed, Richard included, that sanding it down into just saying it was Richards fault and moving on is the best course of action. I wouldn't be surprised if he's going a bit overboard to almost atone for it, downplaying other people's parts in it because it can't be denied that he was having a bad time. If you assume his heavy drug use was involved theres a whole other layer of regret and guilt and heightened emotions that could compound to make his reaction to his own behaviour worse. I just almost teared up considering that maybe he brings it up to remind himself and to show everyone else that he's trying? All of this post is essentially fanfiction with sources but that even more so but listen... Ouchie, right? Whereas most of the others are more forgiving of themselves and their behaviour so it's faded to a greater degree. If he shut up about it a bit more I wonder if they'd ever bring it up. He really does beat himself up and insist it's all in the name of his art.

We have slightly different opinions on the importance of Artistic Pain and Suffering, I know you side more than Richard on that than I do, but I can definitely agree that there's an issue with people loving the end product but rejecting how it came to be in the first place. That doesn't make any sense the way I worded it huh? If you want moral purity then anything outside that is going to feel like a blow. Is that why they say you should never meet your idols?

Related to that none-thing I just tried to say, there's also the fact that Richard has gone to therapy and worked on this stuff: He does acknowledge his issues and how they affected everyone else, and it's pretty clear the others appreciate that. A lot of it, even from our limited knowledge, has clear origins so I don't doubt that they take everything he's been through personally into consideration. I imagine the same can be said of Till and to a certain extent all the others too. You can't look at them through a purely individualistic lens, that's not how they think.

You know how a lot of people with mental health issues get into periods of hating themselves and can list a whole bunch of overinflated reasons why they're terrible awful bad waste-of-a-fleshsuit humans? Sometimes when Richard is discussed it's like people are listening to that and they agreeing without taking a second to evaluate the objectivity of the source. It's hard to look at for too long for some people. Till is treated way more sympathetically; his Bad Traits are less grating for people who don't know and aren't actually around him, I suppose.

I'm trying to find a quote by I think Paul about how he had to read a book of some kind to be able to understand and talk to Richard, Tumblr is impossible to search, but it really does highlight the effort they all put in that we don't see. They have long, long conversations with each other, they didn't just get angry, yell a bit, and then wait for things to change. Sometimes people forget that personal growth is a thing. He's not the same person in 2021 as he was in 2011 or 2001 or any other time.

Uh. Here's a cute Richard to improve the mood

[warriorteam1924]

They’ll say we’re fool and we don’t understand….

 I’m adding a cut right from the beginning here, because I think it can be long. Yesterday, I had so many thoughts inside my head, I suddenly felt the need to disappear. Someone very very sweet (not tagging them in case it would be annoying) got concerned and I thank them again for reaching out for me. And they reminded me it was okay to ramble…. Maybe it would help me get some thoughts out and carry on moving. (feel free to ignore and for the love of anything dear to you, don’t like if you didn’t even read it. That’s R.U.D.E.)

 I know so many people have much more worrying concerns, and I’m not writing this to make some kind of competition as to know who is suffering the most. This is not my point. I already know someone who does it very often, so no need to add more lol I’m just willing to get some points, ask you and myself questions. This is something we discussed today with my sis and we figured out a list of questions would be a nice way for me to close a subject for good and allow me to gain a little bit of peace of mind. Which I cruelly lack lately.

 There is something that’s been annoying me quite a bunch lately. There is a new series in France called HPI, and it’s supposed to be about gifted adults, also known as High Intelligence Potential. And it makes me real mad. That’s fine to make fictions about some people, about their skills, their strengths and their weaknesses and I got to say Audrey Fleurot is a real nice actress (and cute). But the problem is everyone is talking about it and I’ve seen press articles pop up about it. My first concern is that people will start to see this as a trend and say ‘oh I’m acting like this cause of my HIP”…. And when someone who is like me, that is to say a real Zebra, no one is gonna take this seriously. It’s taken me a lot of time to figure out what was it all about and this whole work on me will surely going to be ruined because of false assumptions from the Medias and the general audience. In this world were some are so lazy they should be hiding under their desk, they will take this as an excuse and it’s not acceptable. It’s just like someone pretending to be autistic to have advantages. It’s not fair for those of us Zebras who are really struggling.

In French articles, so far, I have not read a single line that truly stated what it really feels like to be a Zebra. But If anyone is interested, there is this article which is super great and totally fits me (x) 

In the article, they highlight several sentences and I think it fits me perfectly.

“It combines perfectionism, lucidity and fear of failure which makes it rock into a world of 'eternal dissatisfaction'. There is always a way to do more, to do better.”

I wouldn’t speak of a fear of failure, because I tend to say I fear nothing. But yes, failure is not acceptable, I always want to reach for perfection even if it doesn’t exist. Also, eternal dissatisfaction applies for me as well, but only in the sense it’s hard for me to be able to be okay with what I’m doing. The hardest feeling is the feeling of guilt, for everything and anything. Not being able to do everything I had planned in a day, not being able to manage my emotions properly, feeling like I’m a burden, all of this comes on repeat in my head lately and it’s really tiring.

 The second sentence that sums it up more or less is :

“Boredom watches us so we multiply projects to the point of sometimes bringing us to immobilism or burn out. Choosing is giving up and giving up is very difficult when so many things interest you.”

Just like Freddie said, for me boredom is the disease of my world. I always need to have something to do. And therefore it leads me to do so many things at once, which is okay cause I usually end up finishing what I’ve started. (on tumblr, I speak about fanfictions for instance. In real life, some of you have seen some of my creations like paintings). Yet, there is the other side of the coin, which is burn out. And I feel like this is what I’m facing lately. I just cannot manage everything and this leads me to a point of frustration I’ve hardly known so far and it’s really really hard. I feel committed to my sister, to my house, to my pets, to my friends online as well. And when I find five minutes for myself, I have this guilty feeling coming back and it feels like I’m failing someone. It’s terrible and even if I’m working on it, I struggle real badly lately.

 This leads me to my interaction with this world. It’s quite clear I’m not made for this world or this world isn’t made for me or both, I really don’t know. But, thanks to Tumblr, I’ve found amazing people, some I’m now proud to call friends, and it’s fantastic. You all come from all around the world, you all have a background story which is always nice to know, you all have your ups and downs and It’s always a pleasure to be here for you and with you. Of course, this is not perfect, but what is? Nothing of course. It’s easy to write this down. But my mind is often stating otherwise.

 In order to have some kind of protection with this world that seems to be rejecting me, the Zebra kinda creates some kind of scripts in their head to cope. It usually helps getting through a delicate situation or a moment of stress. The problem is, lately and for me at least, the scripts are way too negative. And it seems it’s leading me into darkness and I’m fighting real hard against this.

 For instance, I know so many of you are really very busy lately and I understand. Between work, school, family, other businesses that are personal and don’t need to be shared, there isn’t always much time to be around. It’s again very easy to write it. But in my head, the script goes like this : “I’ve done something wrong.” “they are not doing okay and I feel terrible for not being able to help them.” Or the classical “I’ve done nothing wrong but like the two others who already did, they just blocked me for no reason and I guess that’s it.” (this last case only happens once a year so I should know it will come at some point). All those negative scripts are not cool because deep inside, I know when I’m sending a message I’m usually going to have a reply. Y’all not just evils willing to annoy me lol

 The interaction with this world leads me to another thought that’s been bothering me for quite some time. There are some people around here (not giving names cause my point here is to understand) who really like interaction. Which is fine, I like interaction too. I just don’t do the ask games and all cause I feel no one would send anything and it would be boring and annoying for my followers.

Yet, when some ask for interaction, like sending asks, when I send them in, why don’t I get answers? In this case, there are so many questions in my head. Did tumblr mess up and my question wasn’t sent? Do they ignore me? WHY? (yes why is the main question in my head) what did I do? If you guys have an answer to this one, please feel free to let me know cause I’m really longing to know??? I’m someone really open and I guess quite smart, but being ignored for no reason is a real torture honestly.

 This will (I hope) leads me to a final point. It’s a more romantic and personal experience I’ve had (still have?) and that I don’t understand. Long story short, I met someone online, on Tumblr. We chatted a bit and I had the feeling we got along quite nicely. As a zebra? Or because of my personality, I kinda catch feeling really easily. (and it sucks).

This person (I’m gonna say E. so that’s easier) is depressed and I think they like to get a bit of attention. They often do ask games and reblogs some stuff like ‘give me attention’, ‘dm me and we are friends straight away’. I understand being depressed it hard. I’ve been through it. We don’t all have the same weapons to fight back. But there is always light at some point and I think when a hand is given one should take it. Yet, it seems E. doesn’t want to. It’s now been two months, they’ve just stopped interacting with me. While they do post on their blog, while they try (mostly failing) to get in touch with people on another social media.

Could someone please help me understand? I just don’t understand and it’s really hard for my Zebra brain. Did I do anything wrong? Am I not worth a single reply? Why? (yes, again)

 My logical side is fighting with my emotional side and I’ve been thinking a lot about just giving up and moving on. Like I did before with other persons, I mean this is part of life. Sometimes it can work out, sometimes it won’t. So yeah, simply unfollow and stop looking at their blogs.

Yet, I’m asking you this question. What am I supposed to do when like 5 seconds after I say ‘Okay, Kate, just let go’, there is something popping up in my face to remind me of them? You know, the kind of signs you just can’t miss. Like an ad for the place where E. lives. Like a TV program I’m watching about pets and telling the origins of the dogs is again the place where E. lives. Or the lyrics coming up “Hold the line, Love isn't always on time” while you know Queen is always playing at home (or most of the time). I don’t believe in many things in life, but I do think everything happens for a reason. But I need a bit of help on this one to know why life/karma, whatever its name is, put E. in my path. Will this lead anywhere? Is it already over, before it began? Or was it just one more proof I’m definitely not made for love and I should just learn to avoid having feelings at all? I’m not begging for a romantic relationship, y’all. Hear/read me well, I’ve been single for most of my life and having a partner has never defined me. But I need advice and to understand this situation. Cause the scripts about it in my head are really overwhelming and it’s really hard. So feel free to give me your opinions and all. I’m opened ^^

 Wow, it was hella long but I do feel better I guess. I’d feel amazing with answers I guess lol but it’s not that bad. Thanks for reading if you’ve made it this far ^^’

I just hope I can feel real better soon regarding, cause I’d love to get back to writing, I’ve been thinking about a unseen collab, I have so many ideas, i would love to get back to creating !!! And of course share around here cause it could always please someone !! 

 Again, I’m not tagging anyone, but I just wanted to share a brief note to finish this. I thank my tumblr pals : my starling, Stephanie, Lily, Rachel, Viky, and also Jules ^^ those folks never let me down no matter what and on tumblr, they truly make my Zebra world go round !!!

 Love you all and as always, stay safe and take care. 💖💜

[z3ld4]

Mercy Me - Part One

Summary: Jacqueline Laymore can’t really tell when it started to hurt to call Spencer her friend. But that didn’t really matter after she got kidnapped. Right now all that matters is getting home and getting Spencer Reid.

Warnings: Angsty? Mentions of self harm, suicidal ideation, death, kidnapping, is catholic guilt a warning? culty vibes, mentions of torture, and a very small mention of rape and gouging one’s eyes out.

Word Count: 1.3k (its a babey for the first part)

A/N: this is one of my first fanfictions on tumblr and in this fandom, so idk be nice or like really mean, criticize me, i don’t really mind. i used to write aphmau fanfiction nothing really hurts at this point. also this is an original female character fic because i for real can not write fic in the y/n format and i’ve had this idea for a while. it took a lot of effort to post this without puking in anxiety first but i hope it goes well ig.

If Jacqueline was going to die right then and there, she would have frankly been pissed. Sitting in the bathtub with blood seeping out of shallow cuts on her thighs would not be a great way to go. It’s especially stupid because they weren’t even new. Jacqueline knew better than to cut in the tub.

Especially since she’d been clean before the incident.

She wondered if that was the time to back up and take a second to think. Think about her wrongdoings.

Of course, Gabriel doesn’t give her the release of death and instead shot himself in the neck. Her eyes, always the worst part of her body, follow the arterial spray as it stains the yellowing ceilings. She almost wants to take the revolver and shoot herself in the head, but that would contaminate the crime scene.

Jacqueline is smarter than that. But the revolver is so close to her. Yet just out of reach. 

Everything seems to be just out of reach when you’re kidnapped. 

But everything is moot compared to the digging feeling in her stomach telling her that the gun still has five more rounds. 

She doesn’t. Of course, there is more to her life than being a martyr for another’s sins. That isn’t what Father Julien said when she was younger, but Father Julian also tried to gouge out her eyes in the town square.

Father Julian did a lot of things, talking about the grace of God wasn’t one of them. But what can you really expect from a man that creates a psychopath? Jacqueline dug the heels of her hands into her eyes, creating swirling patterns behind her eyelids. Phosphenes. She can hear him say it. Spencer always made sure to tell her the weirdest facts he could remember. She can’t remember most of them but sometimes his voice pops up in her head reminding her of them.

A lot of things pop up in Jacqueline’s head these days. She smoothed her hair back with the water on her hands and stepped awkwardly out of the tub. Taking two towels from the rack on the wall, she wrapped up her hair and body. Carefully stepping around Gabriel’s body and blood pool she enters the bedroom. For a cheap motel, it was quite clean. Frankly, it wouldn’t be half bad if the carpet wasn’t a brown color and she didn’t come with the guy who kidnapped her. She dug through Gabriel’s luggage until she found yet another, white cotton sundress. It wasn’t a bad dress, quite pretty in reality. It was the situation that made it the ugliest rag Jacqueline had ever seen. It fell to just below her knees and the bodice fit her waist perfectly, the spaghetti straps dug into her shoulders but it could have been much, much worse. 

Jacqueline would have liked the dress in another life. However, Gabriel had a thing for the whole ‘white equals purity’ thing and tortured her in a dress similar to the one she was putting on.

She stopped putting the dress on. Blinking through the tears forming in her line of sight, Jacqueline searches for a shirt and a pair of pants that could maybe fit her. She found Gabriel’s taupe button-up and slipped it over her shoulders, buttoning the front up to the third button. After digging a little more she finds a pair of army green pants, a little too high waisted for such a masculine man but she puts them on. Luckily Gabriel also had a pair of hiking boots which Jacqueline took the shoelace out of and used it as a belt.

The sandals that she wore when out with Gabriel would have to do, though it looked a little silly. Jacqueline took her hair out of the towel and ruffled it up a little, she always hated leaving her thick, wavy hair without product in it but it’s better than brushing it. The bangs brushing against the bridge of her nose are going to make her cry though. She used to hate how she looked in bangs but now, with Gabriel’s praises ringing in her ears, she almost likes the way they frame her face.

Almost.

Jacqueline grabbed Gabriel’s wallet on the way out of their hotel room.

The secretary looked at Jacqueline funny as she checked out. Granted, it was well deserved, Jacqueline looked like a mess of men’s clothing. She also was leaving without Gabriel, which sounded a little unheard of considering he didn’t even let her speak when they checked in.

Jacqueline wanted to call the police so the maid didn’t get a nasty surprise. She didn’t have a phone on her but she walked to the payphone on the street corner and quickly called 911. 

“Hi, Hello. Y-yes… I… I need to report a suicide at Maple Leaf Motel, room 3C. My… My p-partner shot himself in the neck!” She wailed into the phone before hanging up. She was always good at faking things. Right now, faking composure seems to be the only thing keeping her sane.

Time to catch a flight to Quantico, Virginia.

Or, more likely, hitchhike. If there was anything Jacqueline had learned in her nine years with the BAU is to not hitchhike. But she had about two hundred and fifty dollars and the clothes on her back. And if anything she could pay for some gas and maybe use the self-defense that Morgan taught her. She knew that from where she was it would be around twenty days by foot. A twenty-hour car ride. And maybe a five-hour flight depending on the airport. The closest 'big' town near Maple Leaf was Lexington. 

And deep down, Jacqueline really wanted to take a road trip. Nebraska is quite a pretty state. Though walking would be a little excessive considering she's technically been off for two months already.

The fact that she’d been with Gabriel for two months sent shivers down Jacqueline’s spine. The bureau wouldn't take her vacation days away for being kidnapped but you never really know with the government, do you? She started walking to the library when she realized that she could email Strauss and talk about her job and how fast she can be reinstated. Luckily the library was a few blocks down the street.

"Hello, dear! What can I help you with today?" The elderly woman behind the help desk smiled. Jacqueline figured that they didn't get that many people inside the small library. 

Jacqueline forced a smile and walked up to the desk, "Can I use one of the computers? I need to email my boss about my... vacation."

The librarian gives Jacqueline a sugary sweet smile. "May I, Deary," The librarian corrected.

"Right," Jacqueline drawls. The librarian walked her to a clunky old computer and logged on before shoving Jacqueline down into the seat. Jacqueline goes through google to find her email service and quickly write one to Strauss. Strauss responded quickly, a short email reading:

Dear Agent Laymore,

You're thought to be dead. I can not grant you the ability to step into your building for recertification and discussions of reinstating you until you prove otherwise.

Erin Strauss

Jacqueline responded:

Dear Erin,

You're supposed to be nicer to people who are held as a hostage. Anyways, I guess a way to prove my identity would be that I can sing 'On My Own' from Les Mis perfectly, I know you have heard me do it. And that your husband divorced you after he gave you half of his liver due to your liver cirrhosis. You told me this one night when I was crying over my brother killing himself and getting disowned. I am the only person on the current team (I assume, though I'm sure Rossi knows ;D) who has that information on you.

With love,

Dr. Jacqueline Laymore PsyD

Ps. Please don't give my job away because I made a joke.

Erin responded with a very annoyed emailing detailing what they will discuss once Jacqueline reaches Quantico. With a valid ID of course.

Now the hard part, finding someone who wasn't a serial killer to hitchhike with. For at least twenty-four hours. In a car.

Spencer's voice called out in the back of Jacqueline's head, reminding her that there is a 0.0000086% of being killed or raped while hitchhiking.

[thejudgingtrash]

Why are you always that angry in your opinions and posts??? Like is it ever that serious mannn. Like why criticize everythingggg

Well. I’ve taken my time answering this. In all honesty, mostly because I’m lazy with asks where I know the answers are going to be extremely long and because I have a suspicion in who you are because of similar asks in the past. But regardless of this. Let’s continue, shall we?

My question is the following: what do you see in my blog?

What do I mostly do?

I have to admit, I’m not a full-time pjo blog because I’d go insane seeing the same fandom things over again and I have more interests than just that and am too lazy to keep several blogs up to separate my interests from one another (the reason why my queue is pumping out all kinds of stuff, sorry guys!). Also my URL is like four to six years old and despite me hoarding a ton of PJO stuff, I actually like mine, because it reflects perfectly what you’re about to see on my blog (the judging trash).

Back to the posts in regard of Percy Jackson. Of course, when there’s discussion in the fandom, more critical posts get pushed out because of the collective reminder. The collective moaning. But in fairly calm times.

What do you see?

What I see whenever I scroll through my blog is

Reblogs/creations of aesthetics, moodboards, edits, etc.

Reblogs/creations of fanart and fanfiction 

Reblogs/creations of theory and non-critical discourse

Reblogging stuff from friends and mutuals in the fandom

Me making nonsensical posts, jokes and fun about characters

And yes: me being annoyed at the bootlicking/lack of critical thinking/reading skills in the fandom (e.g. PJO Hot Takes)

This is what I see when I scroll through my blog. Either I’m heavily mistaken or you need to point out what exactly I’m apparently criticizing everything. There are so many other things on it??? This is what you focus on? Okay girlie. I see you.

Also.

DO NOT mistake my passion for PJO with ANGER.

DO NOT do that! That in itself is nothing more but fucking ignorant and makes me angry and upset. I’m a part of the PJO fandom and have been for nearly a decade because I (SURPRISE) actually enjoy the series. Don’t toss this away because you think I’m angry. Horrible, just horrible, anon. Thank you for that.

Am I more direct and vulgar in some cases? Yes. Is that off-putting to some people? Definitely. Do I force you to be here and consume everything? No, I don’t. People don’t seem to get that they don’t have to put up with EVERYTHING that gets posted. If you like a blog/creator/etc. and they have a post that you dislike… scroll past it. It’s really that easy.

No one is forcing you to engage with everything. Not every action needs a reaction.

Me criticizing something isn’t an attack nor is it an offense. Especially not to you, because you are never meant unless I address you directly. (The only person that has the right to truthfully come for my neck is author Rick Riordan (Rick Riordan the public figure, Rick Riordan the IG baddie, Rick Riordan the Twitter Lord)). Criticizing something is me showing interest, me being disappointed at something in its current state and me offering my opinion, my reasoning towards improving something. Me pointing out to things that could be worked on. Me contributing to the ever going ways of discourse, discussions, talks, shits and giggles, creative works, etc.

Discussions, discourse and talks are things that are vital to fandoms and keep it alive. Fanart and fanfics are equally important but don’t make everything. Also:

Criticism =/= Hate.

CRITICISM DOES NOT EQUAL HATE.

I absolutely don’t understand this mindset and where it’s coming from. This is something a lot of people regardless of age, gender, heritage, etc. don’t seem to get. If I would hate PJO, the thing I’ve enjoyed for nearly a decade, I wouldn’t be in this fandom. I would not participate in it, I would not be an active part of the PJO Tumblr community nor would I be in several PJO discord group chats.

Silence and only sunshine and rainbow is complicit in keeping the old narrative and status quo, the many old and toxic ways up and alive. You don’t have to take part in discourse/discussions. But don’t tell me that I don’t have the right to do so. And that I don’t have the right to express myself in the way that I want to.

If you see something where I’m really offensive, off-putting or am simply in the wrong, etc. contact me! Tell me! I’m open to that. Let’s have that discussion.

But if not...

Let me express myself however I want.

[katemarley]

fanfiction: fugue in a minor

Fandom: Hetalia Pairing: SpAus (Austria/Spain) Characters: Austria, Spain, Belgium, Augsburg, Swabia, Bavaria, Holy Roman Empire, Saxony Rating: E

Summary: 23 October 1520. Spain and Austria get married. The Imperial Estates and their guests while away the evening with music and courtly dances, celebrating both the union and Charles V’s crowning as “elected Roman emperor” in Aachen Cathedral. But what is expected of the newlyweds? And what is in for them on their wedding night?

This story has been written for Hetabang 2020. It’s a collaboration project with @aph--lietuva who was my Beta and who created wonderful art for this story that you can find on her tumblr. With her permission, I also inserted her art into this tumblr post. It’s been a pleasure working with you! ❤︎

Also available on AO3 (see the link in my profile).

---

This story also is the sequel to “Prelude in A Minor” that you can also find on AO3 and that I have been talking about, but not written, for almost four years, oops... xD Both stories can be read independently from each other.

Preliminary notes: Augusta – Augsburg: brown hair, green eyes, elegant low bun Hilde/Hildegard – Swabia (Reichskreis/Imperial Circle, Reichsritterschaft/Imperial Knighthood): blond locks, green eyes, some resemblance to Switzerland and Liechtenstein Léa – Burgundy: our canon Belgium before she came to be called Belgium

---

“Roderich!”

Austria turned slowly. He was wearing a cumbersome ceremonial robe that was far heavier than his usual formal attire. It had been made especially for today in order to dress him in the latest fashion and he didn’t want to rip any fabric by accident—and definitely not before the wedding.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” said Burgundy, not sounding sorry at all as she pried him from the clutches of a dozen courtiers. He didn’t mind—courtly talk was stressful because it contained a dozen pitfalls, and Léa was a straightforward woman. Also, in a moment like this, he’d much rather be with someone comforting and familiar rather than navigate the sea of faces and names of humans he had probably only met once but was to remember regardless. Usually, he had no problem with that; he was actually very skilled at the diplomatic game. But right now, his head was too full of other thoughts.

“I need some moments alone with my consort, my partner.” Burgundy gave off an air of sovereignty as she spoke to her court who all accepted without question that this was business for the immortals to tend to. Roderich sighed in relief and let her steal him away into their bedroom.

She was fussing at his outfit, straightening it and picking imaginary lint off the velvet before making him sit down on a chair in front of the dresser. She took a brush and took off his black beret to run it softly through his hair, obviously just to have something to do while they talked.

“Liefsteling, I think we should have a little chat before you and Antonio exchange rings.”

“Didn’t we talk about all I need to know already?” Austria frowned. He was unable to keep in all his pent-up frustration and around her, he wasn’t too scrupulous to show it. “You and Charles want to strengthen the unity of the empire, so I am to marry Spain. I understand that. I don’t like it and you know I don’t like Charles, but I can see your point that marriage is a useful device to strengthen the empire.” He huffed indignantly. Sometimes, it was annoying to be “a sensible lad”, as Charles had once dubbed him, but he knew too well how these things worked to waste his time on rebelling. She let him pour it all out with a patient smile.

Finally, he quieted down and added more demurely: “I just wish it wasn’t me, and I wish I didn’t have to marry another male personification. It seems … indecent.”

“I know, dear. It’s a bit … unorthodox.” Burgundy touched his arm and squeezed it in an attempt to comfort him. A smile played on her lips that already showed her intent to lighten Roderich’s mood. “Well, listen to you complaining! You get to marry Europe’s newcomer, a surprise uncovered from Al Andalus. A shiny, new, mysterious knight, a devout catholic, and dare I say … a fair countenance. I’m sure many of the ladies here envy you. But it seemed more important to strengthen relations between two important parts of the empire that are further away from each other, rather than between him and me.” She sighed wistfully, but a bit theatrically.

“Burgundy, if you talk like that I’d swear you want to wed him!” He feigned indignance. “I wish you were the one to marry him,” he added glumly. “And the ladies can have him, for all I care.”

“Now! To think you’d give me away that easily. I’d want my husband to be jealous and fight for me!” She then stopped the theatrics and, with a soft smile, put her arm around him, just like an older sister would do. “I am a little jealous to give you away … I’m going to miss our library talks.” Roderich’s smile softened and he touched her hand.

“There is another thing I must discuss…” She seemed to hesitate. “Remember our wedding night and what we left unfulfilled?” 

“Ah.” Austria tensed. “So this is what we’re talking about.”

“It is indeed.” Burgundy paused. “We didn’t complete our union that night and while we did later, it did affect us. Charles and I believe it is vital to strengthen the union of Spain and Austria as much as possible, and for that…” Her arm around Austria tensed. He could feel the topic was uncomfortable for her.

“And for that, the marriage needs to be consummated,” Austria said flatly. “That doesn’t exactly come as a surprise, Léa.”

“Yes, but it’s not the only thing we discussed…”

Roderich now felt his cheeks redden “What? The insolence!” He sighed. “That imprudent man was actually discussing the technicalities of a coupling between two men with you? ”

“He only wants to ensure that the strength of the union…”

“Don’t defend him!” Austria snapped. Léa flinched.

“I’m sorry,” he said in a quieter tone. “It’s just that he has no idea how things actually work at my place. I don’t like how little interest he takes, and now he focuses on the anatomy of the personification rather than on the resources of the land…” He sighed. The duality of beings like them further complicated everything.

Spain and him were “mere manifestations of the political body shaping them”, Charles had told him not long ago. Manifestations of the body politic—not men. That meant the laws of the Church regarding marriages between humans didn’t apply to them. Archbishop Hermann of Cologne had agreed and had added that the biblical example for a country was to be the heavenly Jerusalem, which further expands itself to gain as much territory as possible and to help the spread of Christianity all over the world. To strengthen their holy empire like this was to behave exactly as the Bible dedicated. 

“The fact that we’re human personifications really is convenient to the likes of him: Whether they consider us human or not ultimately depends on what’s more convenient to them. Two men couldn’t marry, but the human-shaped, but not human, personifications of Spain and Austria can. It doesn’t matter to him that our anatomy is exactly the same as that of two male human beings.”

“I know. I agree with you, I’ve seen kings and bishops use scripture as a justification rather than as a guide many times. As a woman, I have often felt what it was like to be an exception to the rule”, said Burgundy firmly, reminding him of her own position. “However, there’s another message those cowards have made me the messenger of” She stopped brushing his hair, seemingly looking for the right words.

“Yes?” Austria waited. He had no intention to help her with this.

“The king and bishop believe that because this is already infringing on normal matrimony, everything else should mimic a normal marriage as closely as possible.” She interrupted herself, She looked at Austria as if she was hoping that he would understand it. He did but he was going to have her say it. 

“Well, you know. Have the position of the wife be taken by the—by the—more gallant one of the two.” Even her silver tongue couldn’t phrase this more delicately.

Austria was speechless. Charles—this morally rigid, exceedingly religious person—not only insisted two men marry for political reasons, as an unpleasant but ultimately bearable formality. No, he had also insisted these two men actually consummate their marriage and had elaborate thoughts on the mechanics of it. Austria was seriously tempted to rush off, grab Charles by the ruff and give him a piece of his mind. Including the rhetorical question what he thought their private parts looked like.

Burgundy saw the face he was making and spat out the rest. “And only the accepted position, all else is fornication. So you’re to lay on your back.” She let out a small whimper and looked faint. Austria realized that he shouldn’t direct his anger at her. She had always been his friend.

“Cowards, the both of them. In treating you as a country, they are indeed forgetting you’re a lady. Your nature is far too delicate for such crass messages.” He stood up and took her hands gently. He didn’t want to fight with her.

She embraced him, held him for a moment and then stepped back.

“I have something for you.” She opened a chest with a key from her belt and produced a box. “Open it, I’d like for you to wear it today.” Roderich did so and found an ornate golden chain with the Golden Fleece in it.

“Your order…” Roderich smiled at her. 

“When you united with me, you obtained the right to be a part of the Order of the Golden Fleece. When you’re out there, I’m with you.” Roderich felt a tightness around his chest as he recognised the curls on top of the ram shaping the letter B for Burgundy. 

He wasn’t in this alone.

She placed the chain around his neck with an air of ceremony and made sure it lay evenly over his shoulders. She smiled at him and kissed his forehead, after which she traced the sign of the cross on it with her finger. After the tender gesture, she rather forcefully put the beret back on his head and chuckled. “There, you’re ready!”   

Oh, he wasn’t ready. Far from it, but it was happening now.

---

The procession departed from the house he shared with Burgundy in Aachen. Usually, the bride was led to the house of her new husband, but Spain did not have a house there. Out of convenience, they were using the cathedral, which had already been prepared for the coronation of Charles V, and the city hall for the festivities after that. In the procession, all the nuptial gifts Austria had received were carried along and displayed. Some of them were made of strange, exotic-looking gold brought from the new world that gleamed ostentatiously in the afternoon sun. Roderich could feel the presence of Spain through everything surrounding him. Even the new coat had been paid for by him.

The marriage itself was overwhelming in terms of pompously clad courtiers and country personifications, but rather underwhelming in terms of anything else. Roderich’s feelings were a mixture of nervousness because so many people watched him and carefully veiled anger at being one of the two pawns in Charles’s and Burgundy’s political plans.

The truly annoying thing was that he saw the logic behind their actions. He just didn’t like how they affected him.

They were met by the second procession coming from the opposite direction with Spain at its centre. Roderich sought out his eyes, but he was still mostly obscured by the crowd. Both processions reached the cathedral and filled the front part of the space. The nave and choir were reserved for mass, after all, and weddings were worldly affairs. So, leaving the late Gothic choir unoccupied, everyone gathered in the octagonal Palatine Chapel at the very front of the church, leaving the centre open for the couple and the priest.

Roderich’s eyes had to adjust to the relative darkness of the church in contrast with the bright afternoon outside. Two young boys were made to hold long torches over Spain’s and his head and above them, a plethora of little candles were lit in the giant octagonal candelabra. For a moment, he was captivated by the little lights and a realisation dawned upon him: The small structures on the chandelier represented gates. It was a direct depiction of Heavenly Jerusalem. The architecture mimicked the octagonal shape of the chandelier and thus that of Jerusalem as well. The words of the archbishop about the biblical duties of a country echoed through his head. He realized that his duty was literally hanging over his head.

As his gaze war already turned upwards, he saw that the upper gallery was filling with people as well, all of them waiting while a small shadow was passing in front of them. The figure walking around the upper gallery barely reached over the coiled cast-iron balustrades when he finally halted and stepped into the light. The Holy Roman Empire wore the Imperial Regalia and made a gesture of blessing. He was their witness, as it was his empire they were fortifying. The ancient child climbed onto the bare marble throne that had once belonged to their forefather in order to oversee the wedding. Roderich would have laughed at the image of Karl der Kleine playing at being Karl der Große, had he not felt a chill run down his spine at the image of Karl on his throne. Among everyone here, he was the one that belonged there. His spirit had been there when these walls had been built and through his presence, through his breath, the spirit of history slowly filled the space.

When the priest asked them to say their vows, Austria obliged, speaking flatly and without emotion. Spain’s intonation was much livelier, but from what little he had learned about the other country in the past months, that was the way they were: One who usually remained calm unless you crossed him one too many times; and another who seemed to be ever vigorous.

The priest produced a small dish on which Spain put a piece of gold, a piece of silver and a ring. 

Roderich extended his hand meekly for Antonio to put on the ring, but then noticed something. The ring was of a German type. He wondered if this was Spain being thoughtful or him purchasing one at the last minute. Spain held up the ring and clicked it open to be two separate rings. To Roderich’s surprise, they were gimmel rings …

Spain explained in a hushed voice: “Because we are both men, I felt I couldn’t just put a ring on you. We should both wear one. I liked these because of what they say.” He was referring to the words around the band, which he read out in horribly accented German: was Gott zusammen fueget soll der Mensch nicht schneiden. They were a purplish ruby and an emerald. Antonio carefully put the half with the emerald on Roderich’s left ring finger and then handed him the ruby to do the same. This was thoughtful of Antonio—had he come up with this himself or was this the council of Karl advising him? Austria was very aware of the new weight around his finger and his resolve to remain cold started to waver.

When the priest asked them to kiss, Austria’s first impulse was to do it as unemotionally as he had made his vows. Then his eyes caught the pleading look in Spain’s, and his resolve faltered.

Spain was a pawn as well. He didn’t deserve Austria’s coldness. If anyone, it was Charles who deserved coldness.

They settled for a chaste but tender kiss. There was relief in Spain’s eyes when they separated, and Austria was glad his softer side had got the best of him.

They didn’t deserve to be pawns.

They were in this together.

They were then taken to the altar to kneel and be blessed. Austria stole a glance to Spain halfway who had his eyes shut tightly and was fervently praying. Thoughts were drowning out Roderich’s own prayers as well as the words of the priest. Worries about everything—about whether God could really approve of their union, about how his life was going to change after this, even about the impending consummation. They all seemed to lump together in an all-encompassing buzzing noise in his head.

He barely registered the “Amen”.

Then they were hoisted back on their feet and, with much loud music and cheering, led out of the church for another procession to the city hall that had been readied for further festivities. For a moment, Roderich stood there like a deer facing a hunter. Then, almost as if it was the most natural thing ever, Spain took his hand and pulled him into the cacophony of the crowd, but the act did make Austria’s thoughts quieten down.

Remember, Austria thought to himself.

They were in this together.

---

“Austria.”

Austria turned to the speaker. He had recognised her voice instantly.

Augsburg bowed, albeit not very low. She was an imperial city, much smaller than him in terms of her land and yet so much wealthier.

“Augsburg.” Austria bowed on his part, anxious not to incline his head lower than she had. He could at least keep up appearances, if nothing else.

It was her who took his hand for the basse danse—almost imperceptible, but the transgression was there. She swept her eyes over the people that had gathered inside Aachen’s town hall: Most of them were members of the high nobility and imperial estates who wouldn’t have missed the opportunity to show themselves for Charles’s crowning and the establishment of the Austro-Spanish union alike. There were guests from other kingdoms, too, moving in the slow and elegant sequence of steps so characteristic for this dance. Not all of those people had come to Austria and Spain’s wedding ceremony itself.

It makes them uncomfortable, Austria thought. But who was he to complain? It made him uncomfortable, too.

“Lovely, isn’t it?” Augsburg said with the attitude of a self-satisfied host. “Don’t you think the banquet was quite decent, too?”

Hand movements, steps, hand movements—they all came naturally to Austria. He didn’t need to think with his brain when he danced. His feet had memorised the steps, going through the motions without his conscious thought.

“One could almost think it was your marriage,” Austria replied in the politest tone he could muster.

Stop it, Aunt Augusta, this isn’t your marriage.

Augsburg understood him very well. She pulled them aside before they were to change partners, giving him her piece of mind. Someone like Augusta didn’t even need to raise her eyebrow. One look was enough.

“Oh, I much prefer to be the merchant who pays for all of this,” she said bluntly. “I pay; you do my bidding. That’s how things work these days, dearie. It’s the same for your Charles and my Jakob Fugger.”

He’s not my Charles. Austria bit down on his lips. It would have been unwise to wear his heart on his sleeve in front of her. You never knew what she might do with a delicate piece of information such as this. How she might profit from it. For this seemed to be what the world of merchants was all about: Profit; personal gain.

“You’ve become cold,” he said eventually. The irony wasn’t lost on him: Augsburg seemed cold because she focused on monetary gain; Charles seemed cold because he focused on political gain; and Austria acted cold because he did what needed to be done.

Still, marrying someone he barely knew felt daunting. So did the uncertainty of  how other people thought about his marriage: Did they perceive it the way Charles had presented it to everyone—as a political union only? Were they secretly disgusted because both personifications who had exchanged vows inhabited male human bodies? Did they expect them to consummate their marriage?

“I’m not cold, dearie,” Augsburg interrupted his train of thoughts. Her voice was warmer and darker now; a tone he remembered from his childhood. “I’m only trying to achieve the best for my people, as we all do—or should be doing, at the very least.”

That was undoubtedly true. It was the truth at the very core of all country personifications: You are the land—or, in Augsburg’s case, the city. Do what is best for the land and those who call it their home.

You could go against that, but not for very long. It drove you insane. There had been examples of that, too…

Swabia had told him to be the land, time and time again. When she had vanished, everybody had thought her dead. Then she had returned, telling everyone she would always be there as long as there was one soul who remembered her name and called themselves Swabian. Histrionics, they had thought, and yet…

Perhaps there was some grain of truth in it. Perhaps the key was to believe in it yourself.

“You look far too serious, darling,” Augsburg said into his thoughts. “Cheer up, it’s your wedding day!” She patted his cheek in an almost motherly gesture. “It’s all new to you now, but you’ll get used to being his husband.”

“Will I?” he said flatly. His anger was still there, bubbling under the surface. “Will I ever?”

She ignored his despondent answer and studied Spain from across the room before leaning in with a conspiratory grin. “So, what do you think: Is he or isn’t he?”

Austria was confused. “Is he what?”

She answered as if she was discussing the latest court scandal. “Moorish, of course! He spent so much time under Muslim occupation. Perhaps he obtained some Moorish blood or strange habits! Hmm, his skin is pale, but his curls are dark! If he’d grow a beard, he’d look the part.”

She had achieved her aim. Roderich had been fighting the Ottoman Turks at his eastern border for a while now, and he was thoroughly scandalized.

“I sure hope you’re joking!”

“Oh, well, it doesn’t matter, as long as he has no more Muslim tendencies. Take a piece of advice from someone who’s been around for one and a half millennia,” she told him, glancing meaningfully at Spain’s back once she had spotted him among the dancers. “You could have had it worse. At least he’s handsome.”

“He plays the vihuela.” Austria hadn’t even intended to give her this piece of information; it had simply slipped out.

“Does he?” Now Augsburg did raise an eyebrow. “That’s even better. I may know less than you about arranged marriages between rulers unless we’re only talking about ceremonies, but I believe it’s always useful to have some common ground.” She glanced at Spain again. “And like I said, he’s nicely shaped.” Her hands made curving motions, forming two semicircles.

“What?” Austria looked at her in puzzlement.

It took a few seconds until the penny dropped.

“Augusta!” Austria hissed, blushing furiously. “How very indecent!”

“You’re the one who’s going to see it without all those layers of clothing,” Augsburg deadpanned. “Most likely, in any case.” She shrugged. “Unless Charles told you not to make inquiries in that direction. But if I were you, I’d still try to squeeze it, no matter what Charles says. I feel tempted to do it even now.”

“Please don’t!” Austria felt very hot all of a sudden. Until now, he had pushed thoughts about the technical side of consummating a marriage out of his mind. Trust Augusta not to let me get away with it. Augsburg’s words planted mental images in his head that he really didn’t want to think about just now.

“Hmm...” Augsburg threw a calculating glance in Spain’s general direction. “No, I won’t squeeze it. But tempted I am.”

They joined the basse danse again. At some point, Spain gave a little yelp, looking around himself in puzzlement. Austria was entirely unsurprised to spot Augusta quite close to him, looking just as surprised about the sound as anyone else.

Austria sighed.

She was a good actor, he had to give her that.

---

“Roderich!”

Third time’s the charm, Roderich thought, turning toward the person who had uttered his name in a mixture between a hiss and a rough whisper.

Swabia took him by the arm—not a very comfortable experience from an old warrior with an iron grip. Austria winced.

“Sorry,” Swabia said casually, not sounding sorry at all. Austria inwardly rolled his eyes. Why was half his family like this?

She dragged him in a corner suitably far away from spying eyes and ears. Only then she released her grip. Austria rubbed his protesting upper arm.

“Listen to me, boy,” she said urgently. Her voice was dark, almost masculine. When Austria had been little, he had thought she was a man, and she had done nothing to discourage that notion. Then the Duchy of Swabia had been no more, and for all people knew, she had vanished from the face of the Earth. It was only when she had reappeared a few decades ago, from Heaven knew where, that she had been open about being a woman.

“What is it, Hilde?” He couldn’t help it; he sounded unnerved.

“I do realise that everyone wants you to do or be something for them today,” Swabia said gruffly, “but that is precisely the reason why we need to talk. What do you know about bedding ceremonies?”

“Oh no,” Austria groaned. “They wouldn’t, would they.” His tone was too flat to count as a question. They would, he knew that. Or at least certain people would.

“I discouraged them from actually witnessing the consummation,” Swabia said in the tone of the long-suffering. “But Burgundy will guide Spain and I will guide you to your chamber.”

Austria smacked his head against the nearest wall. He did it with caution, so as not to accidentally hurt himself, but the message was clear. As soon as he leaned back, Swabia patted his back not very gently. He suspected it would take several minutes until it recovered from this onslaught.

“We’re going to leave as soon as we’ve finished escorting you,” she reassured him. “I, for my part, have no intention whatsoever to watch the actual consummation, whether it actually takes place or not.” Her voice sounded affronted at the mere suggestion, one clear indication, Austria thought, that someone had indeed suggested she stay and watch.

“But others might have fewer qualms,” Austria said. Swabia had always appreciated straightforwardness, a no-bullshit attitude and, last but not least, people who thought for themselves. That was one thing that hadn’t changed between before and after.

“Precisely,” she said darkly. “Don’t look at him, but you know who I mean.”

Bavaria, thought Austria. Out loud, he said: “He has always been a bully.”

“He has been a bully towards you from the very moment Redbeard and I decided to make you a duchy independent from him,” Swabia specified. “Which, even though it is all water under the bridge now, it is a major reason why I feel responsible to protect you from him in a moment when you will be vulnerable.”

Austria’s heart softened. Thinking back, she had always had an impressive ability to put herself in other people’s shoes—oh well, nothing special there; think like the enemy was one of the first things Bavaria himself had taught him. But Swabia had always had a motherly streak towards him, Austria—and that made all the difference, even though he hadn’t realised it when he was little.

“In any case,” Swabia swiftly returned to the matters at hand, “Bavaria will probably try to sneak up on you. If you don’t want that—and I’m sure you don’t—I urgently advise you not to start anything until he has made the attempt. I don’t know, sing some merry songs instead. Play a nice board game with your husband, for all I care. But see to it that there will be nothing for Bavaria to see. Alright?”

“Alright,” said Austria, “but how can I be sure that he won’t come back for another attempt?”

“I will see to that,” Swabia said gloomily. Austria had to pull himself together so as not to take an involuntary step back. She could be menacing when she set her mind to it.

An old warrior, they said. Better with the sword than with the head. But that wasn’t true; Austria knew it wasn’t. In order to be as good with the sword as her, you had to be a quick thinker, too. The difference was that she was no schemer at all—nothing like Augusta. But she was no schemer because she had an aversion to scheming, not because she was fundamentally unable to think in such a way.

“Thank you.” He gave her a genuine smile. She smiled back, in her own firm and earnest way, insofar as you could smile earnestly. 

“You will remain in the corridor?” he asked.

“Don’t worry, I will keep my distance.”

“I did not worry. In fact, I’m glad it will be you who stays there.”

---

As the festivities progressed, Swabia came over once again—this time for everyone to be seen—took Austria gently by the hand—the hand, not the arm—and guided him away. He did not see Burgundy approach Spain, but they arrived in front of Spain and his chamber at the same time.

“Have fun, boys!” Burgundy said with a cat-like smile before she left them alone.

Swabia exchanged a meaningful glance with Austria. Then she nodded at them both and went away. Her footsteps echoed in the corridor—still a soldier’s steps despite the elegant dress she was wearing.

“Who is she?” whispered Spain in Italian as soon as the footsteps had died away.

“Swabia.” My guardian angel, he thought. And she is still here.

“The one who—” Spain craned his neck as if he could catch another glimpse of her that way.

“Who what?” Austria pretended not to know what Spain was asking about.

“Who spent her time in that mountain—you know, the same that Emperor Frederick II went to?”

“The Kyffhäuser, you mean,” Austria said.

 “And said she had returned because it was a time of need for her children?” Spain continued, still craning his neck to see what was not to be seen anymore.

Oh dear, my husband is naïve. Roderich sighed.

“For all I know, Frederick II died in Castel Fiorentino in 1250,” he said drily. “For all I know, she has never been gone. Probably kept her head down because her children wanted so many different things. But as soon as aforesaid children think it best to unite, she’s there again, as head of their league. Head of the Swabian Circle now, too.”

“I hear grudging respect,” said Spain.

“At some point when I was little, I used to look up to her,” Austria explained. “She was the leading power of the empire back then. I wanted to be like her. Wanted to earn the empire’s crown.”

“So you did.”

“So I did,” Austria repeated sourly. “And look what good it is doing me. I’m nothing but a pawn in a game too big for me to play. She has never been a pawn.”

“Oh no,” Spain said earnestly. “She has always been a knight.” He paused. “So are you. And so am I.”

There was a small silence before Spain opened the door.

“Shall we go in?”

The room was pleasant and warm. Roderich noticed he’d been gifted a marriage chest. He had no time to look at it, though. Instead, he was looking for the right words to say.   

For the first time after their wedding ceremony, Austria looked directly into his husband’s eyes. Play a nice board game with your husband, for all I care.

Then, to his dismay, Spain stepped closer to him and leaned in, inclining his head for a kiss.

“No! Wait.” Roderich’s voice came out more shrill than he had intended. He stepped back and tried to compose himself.

“May I challenge you to a game of chess?”

Shock and hurt manifested in Spain’s eyes. Austria could read him like an open book.

Oh. So this is important to you, Austria thought. Who would have thought.

“But…” Spain whimpered.

“I do not intend to eschew my marital duties,” Austria reassured him in his most formal tone. “I do, however, intend to postpone them for some more minutes or, as it may be, hours.”

Spain looked at him in confusion.

“You will see why.”

Spain thought about that.

“Chess it is, then,” he decided in the end.

They had barely lit all the candles in the room, taken off their shoes and laid out the chessboard in the middle of their four-poster when a long-haired blonde barged into their chamber.

“Austria!” he barked.

“You know, Saxony, there is such a thing as a door,” Austria said gently, placing his first pawn to e4 on the board. “The concept might seem novel to you, but it is for knocking.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit!” The blond man’s blue eyes bored into Austria’s purple ones. “I’m here to warn you! Your brother wants to be an asshole once again and spy on you…”

“Spy on me playing chess with my husband?” Austria asked sweetly.

Saxony visibly deflated.

“I should have expected you to know.”

“No harm done. But, Saxony—” Austria paused.

“Yes?”

“Next time you intend to warn someone of potential bedding ceremonies, do knock before you barge in. You might, you know … cause the exact thing you aim to prevent.”

“Sorry, Austria.” Saxony hung his head.

“Chin up,” Austria said jovially. “Like I said, no harm done.”

There was silence after Saxony had trudged out of the room.

“So this is why you suggested a game of chess,” Spain said eventually, moving one of his own pawns to e5.

“Exactly.” In a split-second decision, Austria moved a second pawn to f4. Spain whistled.

“Classic! Did you read Francesch Vicent’s book on chess?”

Austria gave him his best enigmatic smile.

---

They hadn’t played for long when the door clicked open one more time, and Augsburg put her head inside.

“Chess?” she asked in disapproval. “How boring!”

“It is a very interesting game!” insisted Spain.

Augsburg pouted.

“Your butt is far more interesting to me, young man. One should have thought seeing it was included in the price I paid for this wedding, but this seems not to be so. Good evening, gentlemen.”

With that, her head vanished, and the door clicked shut. Spain stared after her, open-mouthed.

“What was that?”

“The question is: Who was that, dear Antonio,” said Austria patiently. “The answer is: Meet Aunt Augusta, the moneybag who pays for everything you have seen so far, except for the fixed interior of this building. Then again, you have already met her or, rather, met her thumb and forefinger when she pinched your behind earlier this evening.”

“That was her?” Spain stared at the door.

“I’m afraid so.”

With that, Austria returned his focus to the game.

---

“Do you really think this is appropriate—”

Everyone was surprised when they first heard the child’s voice that sounded so very old. Austria’s first thought now was bafflement.

“Let me down!” the voice clamoured. “Let me down this instant! I don’t want—”

Then their camber door was kicked open with a bang, revealing Bavaria with a struggling Holy Roman Empire in one of his arms.

Something within Austria’s mind clicked. He stalked towards Bavaria in his stockings, putting his hands on his hips.

“What do you even think you’re doing?” he hissed. White-hot anger coursed through his veins.

“Roderich!” Bavaria said in what he had clearly attempted to be a jovial tone. It slipped. “We just…”

“We?” hissed Austria. “We?” His voice rose. “You dragged little Karl here against his will and you have the nerve to suggest he was in any way involved in the idea of seeing his guardian in a compromising situation?” Austria was still growing and only wore socks, but somehow, he managed to tower over Bavaria regardless.

“Erm…” Bavaria did one sensible thing and put Holy Rome to the ground. Austria grabbed him by the collar, still seething with anger.

“Roderich?” the young, old voice said calmly. “Theodor?”

Both countries looked at him.

“I think we should all calm down now, and then Theodor and I will return to the festivities. Is that not a good idea, Theodor?”

“Yes,” Bavaria said glumly. Then Holy Rome took his hand and guided him away.  Austria closed the door after them—with deliberate care. Antagonising Karl was never a good idea. It made you seem childish.

“Alright.” Austria let out a long sigh. “After this, I think they will leave us alone at last.”

Then he saw the look in Spain’s eyes. There was a flicker of reverence in them as well as a distinct spark of—interest? Austria’s stomach did a tiny flip.

“So…” Spain was brushing his hand alongside the nape of his neck; a clear, if somewhat clumsy, sign of nervousness.

“So.” Austria was nervous, too. He tried not to show it; tied to muster the stoic bravery he always associated with Swabia.

“I rather think there will be no more disturbances now, and … I think we both know what is expected of us.” Damn. He was sure Swabia’s voice would not have been quavering.

“Have you ever done this before? I mean, with…” He didn’t know how to continue the sentence. With another man? But were they men? They weren’t human beings; that he was sure of. But their bodies were built like those of two male human beings, and the fact that the church itself had made it official today that human law did not apply to them… To him, it seemed like cheating. It appeared that kings and popes would always decide what they were on the basis of what was most convenient to them.

He looked on the chessboard. Were they pawns in this game of kings?

Spain followed his gaze. He picked up the chessboard from the bed and placed it carefully on the floor.

“You’re thinking too much.” Even Spain’s voice was gentle.

“I always do.” Austria looked away, on the cushions of the large four-poster. So, he thought once more. This was when…

“Will you let me guide you?” Spain said in the same quiet voice he had used before. “Because I actually have done this before.”

“You?” Austria’s head whipped up. He stared at Spain incredulously. “I thought…” He didn’t know how to continue. “Religion…”

For a split second, Spain appeared to be flustered but then answered with an aloofness that seemed almost like he was overcompensating:

“I know what the authorities say on the matter, and in the beginning, I was confused, too. But … it’s not really all that different, you know.” He shrugged. “I’m not a theologian, so I might miss a few points, but if the bishop approves of it, I can’t find fault with it either. Especially when it’s about our kind, who don’t have children the human way anyway.”

“Hm.” Austria thought. “That seems to be the main point, doesn’t it?”

Spain didn’t reply. Austria didn’t know if Spain really thought what he suspected—what he would have thought in Spain’s stead, in any case: Think like that if it makes you feel better about it.

He would try to, anyway.

“What do I need to do?”

“Stop looking like you’re going to face down an enemy, for starters.” Spain smiled as he was inching closer to him.

“I’m trying to.” Austria relaxed his features. Perhaps thinking How would Swabia handle this? wasn’t a good approach in every situation.

“First of all, I’m going to kiss you,” Spain declared. There was an edge to his voice Austria couldn’t quite place. “Then … just follow my lead. And push me away if you want me to stop, okay?”

Austria nodded.

Then a gentle, calloused hand cupped his chin and warm, slightly chapped lips captured his lower lip.

This really was no different to being with a woman, Austria thought involuntarily. At least so far.

He opened his mouth to let Spain in when his tongue demanded it. Spain was a good kisser, at the least; Austria had to give him that. He made an involuntary, small sound at the back of his throat and could feel Spain smile against his lips before he started to kiss Austria’s cheek.

“That is a fine coat you’re wearing but it’s in my way.” Spain deftly pushed the fur-lined  coat down Austria’s shoulders and let it fall to the floor with a heavy thud. He kissed down Austria’s neck where the wide necked undershirt left him ample room for kisses. While kissing he got at the laces and points that held Austria’s doublet closed down his side and carefully started undoing them. 

Austria’s hands were much more clumsy as he tried to open Spain’s belt that held his sayo gathered at the waist. It was an action dangerously close to the codpiece that peeked from between Spain’s skirts. The kissing had made him light-headed; he refused to accept thinking of himself as aroused yet.

Spain was progressing rapidly and now moved to the laces that tied his doublet to his hoses, it wouldn’t be long or he’d be in his shirt. Austria believed it his duty to do the same, but it was hard to think with Spain’s lips and hair touching his skin, and he had to get Spain to remove his coat and say first before he could get at any laces himself…

Spain sat back and laughed.

“We should have changed into our nightshirts before we started this, shouldn’t we?”

“Probably,” Austria said breathlessly. His mouth twitched upwards, too. “I always underestimate the time it takes to change out of ceremonial clothing.”

Spain flashed back a grin.

“Especially when you’re dead tired after some tedious reception, isn’t it?” He chucked off his own heavy coat and then pulled off the sayo over his head, leaving him in just his jubón and very short breeches and stockings, a state of undress that was already quite scandalous. Austria watched him before he realised that now would be a good time to start unfastening what Spain hadn’t unfastened yet. He took off his doublet and was left in just his undershirt and his breeches.

There was just one problem: The moment he untied the codpiece that was closing his breeches, Spain would see that… Well, that the kissing hadn’t quite left Austria unaffected. And wasn’t that too early…

Meanwhile, Spain had loosened his jubón from the shorts and undid just as many laces as needed to hastily pull it off. He accidentally pulled his linen undershirt along and got a bit stuck. With a little determination he had freed himself and stretched, his upper body was now completely bare. Austria stared. Where he was soft and a little skinny, Spain’s body was covered in hard planes of muscle. He suddenly felt self-conscious about his own body.

Then, Spain pulled loose his garter bands and loosened his codpiece and pushed down everything he wore on the lower half of his body. It was tight so he had to work it down a bit before being able to pull it off. The man was stark naked now. Without conscious thought, Austria’s eyes were drawn to his half-hard cock.

“But you didn’t even…” Austria had no idea how he wanted to finish this sentence.

“It’s basically been like this since we entered the bedroom,” Spain admitted frankly. “But it got a little harder when you put your brother in his place.”

“But … why?” That probably ranked pretty high on a list of most stupid questions ever uttered, Austria realised, so he clarified: “I mean … it’s not as if we had much of a choice…”

“Simple,” Spain said. “You look good. You’re graceful when you dance, among other things. I knew kissing you would feel good, too, and it does.”

“You’re the one who looks good.” Austria knew he was simply stating a fact. “I, on the other hand…” He pulled his wide linen shirt, over his head, leaving himself shirtless. He was trying not to think too much about how he looked.

Then he caught Spain’s stare.

He blinked.

“You know the saying,” murmured Spain, walking over to Austria’s side of the bed. “Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder.” He raked his eyes over Austria’s, as Austria thought himself, rather scrawny chest. Spain’s broad, warm hands followed, and that did feel good…

Then Spain had managed to untie Austria’s knee breeches. He pulled them down.

“Oh.” Spain stared at Austria’s cock—a rather unbecoming thing, Austria thought; pale with some angry red at the tip.

“And here I was actually worried your body might not react, no matter what I do.”

Was that before or after you kissed me breathless? Austria wanted to quip, but then Spain was on his knees and—alright, that was something he had experienced before too, but Spain had swallowed him whole, and…

He cried out and swore in German, in words he would otherwise have denied he even knew. So much for keeping this to ‘the approved position’ Burgundy had demanded of him this was definitely fornication. He liked that idea, yes there were so many things he had to comply with about this marriage. But there were parts of it that no one could control except for the two of them, no matter how much others might want to.

Spain pushed him on the bed, getting rid of Austria’s breeches and socks while he was at it, never stopping with his mouth…

Rational thought escaped Austria, and that was probably just as fine because he wasn’t keen on evaluating the sounds he made anyway.

Then one of Spain’s hands held down his hips. Cold air hit his cock as Spain sat on his knees, raking his eyes over Austria while he was stroking himself.

Austria stared. He hadn’t felt so aroused in a long time.

“Want to touch me?” Spain asked. Austria nodded. He ran his hands over the muscles on Spain’s chest before he let one hand dip down into Spain’s soft flank. His other hand wrapped around Spain’s cock.

It was a new sensation to hold a cock that wasn’t his own, but Austria knew how he liked to be touched … if he twisted his hand just like this … Spain’s hips bucked under his hands.

“Okay, okay, you’re making me come!” Spain pushed his hand off. “Not yet.”

Oh yes… So far, it had been easy. But that had just been Spain’s way of making the whole thing more bearable, hadn’t it?

Austria rolled on his stomach. Better get it over with…

Broad hands started to knead his … backside, for want of a more becoming term. He felt a puff of air between his cheeks, and then…

He didn’t know if he had bucked or flinched. In any case, he hadn’t been prepared for Spain’s tongue … there.

At first, the sensations were just confusing. Then Spain’s tongue started to work him for real, darting in and out and caressing his inner walls. He started to pant again.

“Hmm…” Spain hummed against his arse. Austria’s hips bucked out of their own volition. “And I didn’t even need to tell you to relax.” The puffs of air against his hole made him buck his hips again. 

“That’s good,” Spain continued. “I’m going to work you open now,” he explained. “That might get a bit uncomfortable. You need to tell me if it gets too much, alright?”

“Yes,” said Austria. It was hard to think through his arousal, but he had understood. On the other hand, he had no intention whatsoever to tell Spain that anything was too much. Grit your teeth…

Spain leaned away from him, taking something from his clothes. Austria looked after him.

“Olive oil,” Spain explained as he opened the jar. “The very best.”

Then Spain started, using his tongue and an oil-coated finger to stretch Austria from the inside… It didn’t feel good, but it was also not the horrible feeling Austria had expected: A mixture of pleasure—yes, it was still there—and the uncomfortable sensation of being stretched in a place that hadn’t been made for stretching all that much. Austria’s hips still bucked when Spain inserted two oily fingers and his tongue, moving them in and out, but his moans were now half pain, half pleasure.

“I think you’re ready,” Spain said eventually.

Am I? thought Austria. He wasn’t ready at all; not mentally, at the least.

Something warm and spongy that had also been coated in oil nudged his arse, and then he had to bite his lips hard not to cry out in pain because that was definitely bigger than…

“Oh, shit,” Spain swore. A number of Spanish expletives followed as he rolled them both to the side, arms flailing. At least it distracted Austria from the unpleasant feeling.

“What…?” he started to ask.

“Damn. Sorry. I almost lost control… Did I hurt you?”

“Not much,” Austria said, more or less truthfully. “Is there something I can do to help?”

“I’d better … hold my legs still. Can you, uh, move against me?”

Austria understood immediately. He tugged one of Spain’s arms across his chest.

“Alright. Hold me.”

Spain did, muscles quivering from the effort not to move while Austria pushed his ass against him again and again, panting in the effort of moving.

“This doesn’t work,” he concluded. ���On your back.”

Spain did as he was told. Austria took the jar from Spain’s hand, rubbing more oil on his dick and between his ass cheeks. Then he sat on him, face to his legs because Spain really didn’t need to see the grimace he pulled. He gave himself no time to think about the fact that suddenly it seemed to be him, not Spain, who controlled the situation. Instead, he used his weight to push Spain’s dick inside of him in slow thrusts that strained his leg muscles

When he was almost inside, Spain’s hips jerked upward, knocking the wind out of Austria’s lungs.

“You can turn me around now,” Austria panted as soon as he was sure his voice wouldn’t come out an octave too high. Spain did so, trying to hold his dick inside of Austria as it was. It wasn’t really possible because Austria could feel every little movement, and it wasn’t a pleasant sensation at all.

In the end, they were on their sides again, Spain’s arm once again slung across Austria’s chest.

“You’re so tight,” Spain panted. “Too tight. Can you try to relax?”

Austria did his best. He thought about Spain’s hands on him; the moment he had touched Spain; Spain’s lips around him… That had felt good.

“Better,” Spain grunted. He rocked his hips, keeping Austria in place with his arm.

It actually was better. The stretch was still unpleasant, but the oil did its job quite nicely now, and the pace Spain set suited Austria well: Not too fast, but not too slow either; not too hard and not too soft. He felt his cock that had become softer in the past minutes harden once again.

Then Spain’s hand brushed down Austria’s chest, gripped his cock, and—oh, that was more like it.

Spain’s mouth started to pepper kisses on his neck. Austria understood what he wanted, turning his head until Spain could kiss him. The kiss was open-mouthed and clumsy. Spain moaned into it as his hips moved harder and faster. At last, Austria’s hips started to jerk out of their own volition, torn between the thrusts from behind, the hand around his cock and the tongue in his mouth.

Suddenly, Spain brushed something inside of him that sent a shock of arousal through him. He cried out. Spain’s hand that had only held his cock before twisted up and down. Before Austria had registered what was happening, sticky wetness hit his stomach. Then Spain brushed the same spot as before, and another spurt of come followed the first.

Spain pumped Austria’s cock in a frenzy while his hips jerked up fast and erratically. Spots started to dance before Austria’s eyes. Then Spain’s hips stilled, and Austria felt hot fluid inside of him.

So this was penetrative sex between men, Austria thought with the part of his brain that never seemed to shut off. He pumped air between his lungs in long gasps until the spots in front of his eyes vanished.

The next things he registered were how sensitive the skin on his thighs felt—again, something that was not entirely new—and that he felt unable to move his legs even an inch.

“Austria?” Spain asked in a small voice.

“Hmm?” He couldn’t bring himself to say more.

“Are you … I mean, did I hurt you?” Spain sounded worried.

You mean, when didn’t you hurt me, a malicious part of Austria wanted to quip. He reined it in and settled for the truth.

“It stung when you spread me and it did hurt in the beginning,” he admitted. “But I don’t mind that you were chasing your own release at the end, which is what I think you are referring to.”

“I’m sorry.” Spain sounded sincere. “It gets easier if you do it more often.” There was an unspoken question in that statement, but Austria chose to ignore it for the time being. He had done his duty—the marriage had been consummated—but he didn’t know yet what he wanted for the future.

“Still,” Spain said. Austria felt the bed dip as he stood. He heard him move, but couldn’t bring himself to lift his head. “It was your first time. I should have been gentler.” Spain’s upper body entered Austria’s field of vision, holding a wet piece of cloth. “Allow me to clean you up, too?”

“Please.” Austria realised his own switch back to a formal tone. It seemed to have an effect on Spain: The way he cleaned him up was meticulous and efficient. Austria noted he had warmed the piece of cloth with his body—an act of care he appreciated.

“Tell me,” Austria asked, “if we hadn’t been ordered to consummate our marriage properly, would you have done all you did tonight?”

“No,” Spain answered at once. “I wanted you to enjoy it. I’d probably have stroked us off together, and that’s it. And you can keep caressing each other while you do that…” His voice trailed off. “Look, I think you’re clever and brave and beautiful, and I want to touch you. I’d want it if we weren’t married. But I’m worried I thwarted my own chances before I had any because we were doing what others expected of us.”

“Don’t be cross with me, but I believe I’m unable to think about that just now.” Austria only realised how true this was as he said it: He was exhausted; his legs felt like jelly; and he needed a good night’s sleep anyway after the dances, the chess match and Swabia’s and his own valiant efforts to thwart all spectators.

“Don’t misunderstand me,” he hurried to say as he saw the disappointment on Spain’s face. “If I say I need to think about it, I don’t mean no. I mean that I need to think about it, but I’m about to fall asleep. So … come to bed with me?”

Spain nodded. Then he doused the candles and went to bed, putting the blankets over them both as well as he could. Austria made a point of taking Spain’s hand.

It had been a long day, and he really needed to think. He also needed his legs to work again, but he assumed that problem would have solved itself by tomorrow.