#nor do i want to read about how much they hate taliesins choice to create kingsley i just want to read about molly hanging out

[nellasbookplanet]

I've never liked the term 'fix-it fic'.

When I read and/or write a fic with a different pairing than in canon, it doesn’t mean I necessarily think the canon pairing is wrong and needs to be fixed. When I read alternate endings where someone lives instead of dies, it doesn’t mean I think the original story should’ve kept that character alive.

It’s all about possibility, curiosity, exploring dynamics we only glimpsed or didn’t get around to at all in canon. I recognize the themes and their importance and see how these things might actively have worsened the source material, but in a fic, operating under different themes and having zero impact on the canonical outcome? It’s fun to explore. It doesn’t mean I wanted it to happen in canon.

But sometimes I come across people who seem to think the only reason people read so called fix-it fics (god, I really do hate that name) is because they’re in denial, unaware of or doesn’t grasp the themes of the source material, too immature to handle dark themes in fiction (and, if the accuser is feeling especially mean, therefore too immature to handle the darker aspects of real life).

Conversely, there certainly are fix-its written with the express purpose of 'fixing'. Sometimes they are even right! (something being canonical doesn't automatically make it good, you know?) But most of the time they come off as dismissive, entitled, and, yes, even as denial of the canonical themes in favor of others (often much more shallow and not as supported by the narrative), and are also the exact kind of fics that I avoid.

Much as I enjoy a Molly lives-fic (I just want to see him interact with the nein and find out about all the hijinks they got up to post his death!), erasing Kingsley and ignoring his purpose as a character feels wrong. Writing off Jester's feelings for Fjord as comp-het or their relationship as toxic to facillitate another pairing (what would Jester finding out about Beau’s or Caleb’s feelings have looked like? let's explore!) feels dismissive of her character and ignores much of her development and growing understanding of romance over the course of the campaign. Shadowgast fics that write off Caleb’s feelings for Jester (or even retroactively give him feelings for Molly instead) feels dismissive of Caleb as a character.

But the assumption that ALL alternate happy endings, everybody lives nobody dies, different main pairing-fics operate under 'canon sucks and I refuse to engage with the narrative themes, also I refuse to reckon with death and tragedy as a concept' is just. Mean and dismissive, and the term fix-it fic doesn't help in fighting that.

[feral-renaissance-cat]

Molly, Meet Your Maker

(A direct sequel to “A Message from Mollymauk” because I’m coping through speculative fiction, okay?)

The flood of grief was slowing to a trickle. New bits of text and a few lovely drawings appeared now and then, but clearly the shock had worn off. Molly was bored. He hated it. He had tried speaking to his surroundings a few times with no results, so now he simply did it because it was something to do.

“Is it possible to die of boredom when you’re already dead?” he asked. He searched his pockets again for the hundredth time and found nothing, not even the ash from the cigarette Keg had given him. It seemed he had emerged into this world cleansed. He thought he would have been naked, yet here he was in the clothes he had worn during the attack, albeit without the fresh bloodstains and massive gash in his shirt. No drugs, no drinks, nothing to fiddle with. His tail twitched in agitation. “Would something just happen already?” he demanded. After a moment of thought he added, “Please?”

Everything around him stopped. Molly had already figured out he didn’t have a heartbeat, but if he did it would have been rapid now. “Um, hello there?”

All the words and images faded into a hazy fog. To Molly’s great astonishment, from the fog came a reply. “Who’s that?” asked a voice. The voice made the hair on the back of Molly’s neck stand on end. It was familiar and yet...different from how he thought it should be? Was that why he was afraid to strike up a conversation with it? Or was there a different source for the apprehensive dread in his chest?

The voice spoke again, but it was louder, closer. “Pretty sure I’m dreaming, but no matter how hard I try I can’t actually affect anything, which means I’m either the worst lucid dreamer or that last drink was more than I expected.” A shadow appeared in the mist and eventually its outline grew sharper. It was about Molly’s height, humanoid, arms outstretched. Molly instinctively backed away. Despite his yearning for salvation from his boredom, this was unexpected and the part of him that always told him to run from anything that resembled his past was currently screaming in the back of his mind.

As afraid and alone as he was, Molly could only think of his friends. This slinking away trying to avoid confrontation was exactly what Caleb would do. Fjord would have already stepped forward to exchange pleasantries with Beau right behind him preparing to accidentally make the conversation awkward. If the stranger proved to be harmless, Jester would prance up to ask them questions and Nott might follow her while keeping an eye on Caleb. Yasha...would be Yasha, standing there waiting to figure out what her part in this was and only acting when she was sure she actually had something to do. And he? What would Mollymauk do when the Mighty Nein faced a new acquaintance?

He stood his ground. Reflexively he turned his head to check over his shoulder for Caleb, that odd mad man who was so clearly broken yet continuously put himself into situations that could shatter him rather than abandon the group. Molly had to show Caleb it was okay. He took a step forward. “And who might you be?” Molly asked.

The shadow perked up and came towards Molly. Its form cleared into that of a man, human, neither very young nor very old, with a soft figure that still radiated an active energy, and his hair was much shorter on the sides while the longer part on top was neatly brushed back and had a faint sheen of some bluish purple color. When the man saw Molly, he stopped. His jaw dropped. “Oh my god,” the man said. “It’s you.”

Molly cringed. “I know who you think I am,” he said. “I’m not him. If you’re looking for Lucien, Lucien’s dead.”

“Of course he is,” the man said matter-of-factly. “He’s been dead for over two years. You...you’re Molly. Mollymauk Tealeaf.”

Molly was getting nervous again. “Have we met?”

The man blinked as though suddenly realizing where he was. “Oh, no, not formally anyway.” He held out his hand. “I’m Taliesin. Taliesin Jaffe.”

Molly was hesitant to shake this man’s hand, but his curiosity had gotten him into worse places. The handshake was firm and highly enthusiastic on Taliesin’s part. “Good to finally meet you, I guess?” Molly said.

Taliesin continued to stare at him. “This is going to sound really weird, but the situation is weird as it is, so here goes...” He took a deep breath. “I’m your creator.”

Molly chuckled. “Are you a god or something?”

“Oh no, no no. But I made you. I’ve been wanting to pl- to introduce you for years.”

The wary part of Molly’s mind kept on screaming. “Were you... Are you the reason behind these?” Molly asked, indicating the red tattoos he had hidden among all the rest.

Taliesin waggled his head from side to side. “Ehh...technically? Let’s put it this way: I’m not a god, but I know who made the world you live in. I came up with your basic concept and told him to fill in the blanks for your past. I didn’t even know about Lucien until we got to the Gentleman. I’ve thought a lot about you for a while, but most of the little details you know about yourself are things I made up as we were going along.”

Molly narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you don’t remember the names of any places you’ve been, but do you remember what you were doing about a year ago? Say, ten months? Remember any particular encounters?”

So many things had happened in two years, it was hard to keep track of when ‘particular encounters’ had happened. Molly shrugged.

“I’ll tell you. You were telling fortunes and this lovely couple came up and asked for a reading. They said their relationship had hit a rough patch and they were looking for advice or insight as to what would happen next. You rigged your deck to draw The Lovers and the Three of Cups so you could tell them their relationship would be saved by bringing in a third person. So you convinced them to have a threesome that went so well that they said any time you were in town you were free to drop by for dinner and stay for breakfast. Remember now?”

Molly tilted his head. He could remember it all of a sudden. He remembered exactly how he had stacked and shuffled his cards to give him the result he needed. He remembered how he had flirted with the woman first then turned his charm to the man once he won her over. He remembered the parting kisses he had given them both and the giddy yet guilty feeling he had walking back to the wagons because he knew he would probably never see them again. He nodded.

“Well I just made that up. That memory didn’t exist until just now.” Taliesin shook his head sadly. “I know your past as you, Molly, and your present. That’s it. Your distant past -- and your future -- are out of my hands.”

“But...if you created me, then...you must know something.”

Taliesin laughed. “I don’t even know where I am right now. Last thing I remember was checking Twitter before bed and seeing...well, it’s gonna sound crazy but there are a lot of people who blame me for your death. Or they’re blaming one of two other people, but what happened to you wasn’t...” He put a hand over his mouth. “My god, Molly, I’m so sorry.”

A faint crack of hope shone in Molly’s heart. “Can you send me back? You said you know the man who made the world. He can send me back, right?”

“He could, but there are rules. He can’t just say, ��Okay, that shouldn’t have happened. Let’s start over and this time no one dies.’ I have faith in him, and I will respect whatever decision he makes, but ultimately it’s not up to me.” Taliesin sighed. It was a deep airy sigh Molly could practically feel in his own lungs. “I was really excited about you,” Taliesin said. “There was so much left you had to do and learn and, now, I honestly don’t know if you’ll ever get the chance.” Molly noticed his hands trembling. This man who was his creator but who was not a god was trembling. Molly stepped forward and embraced him.

Molly wasn’t sure which emotion had triggered his tears. There was so much for him to process and he could feel Taliesin’s anxiety and grief compounding with his own. It was overwhelming. Then Taliesin put his arms around him and pulled him tight. Molly’s tail curled as he held back his sobs. The last thing he wanted to do was openly weep into his creator’s shoulder. Then again, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to do so, and so he did. He cried over the loss of his friends, over the fear of being alone again, over the hopelessness of his situation and the helplessness of the man who made him. He cried because he hadn’t cried in a while and damn it if you couldn’t cry about your own death when it was this unfair then when could you?

The hug lasted as long as it needed to. It was Taliesin who let go first. “I’ll do what I can,” he promised.

“Thank you,” Molly said. He wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his coat as Taliesin did the same with the heel of his thumb. Molly wasn’t sure what else to say. Then a thought occurred to him. “You mentioned ‘we’. Are there people who made the others like you made me?”

“There are.”

“Were they like you and they just know a little about all of them or did they invent their pasts too?”

Taliesin shrugged. “Little of column A, little of column B.”

“Did someone come up with Caleb’s past? The reason why he’s...broken?”

“Yes.”

“If you see that person, punch them in the gut for me, will ya?”

Taliesin laughed, and this time there was actual amusement in his voice. “I’ll tell him you said that. God, no one’s going to believe this. I don’t know if I believe it, but it was good to meet you, Molly.”

“Good to meet you, too, I guess.” The tip of Molly’s tail twitched. “Um, I’m guessing you have to go.”

“Yeah, I guess I do.” Taliesin put his hand on Molly’s shoulder. “Take care of yourself.”

Molly smiled. “Not like I have much choice, right?”

The two shook hands in farewell. As Taliesin turned to walk back into the fog, Molly called, “Wait!” Taliesin stopped to look over his shoulder. Molly grinned sheepishly. “I don’t suppose you have anything you could leave with me to, I don’t know, help me pass the time?”

Taliesin put his hand to his chin and furrowed his brow pensively. “Maybe I could...hmmm...” A smile crept across his face. His eyes twinkled. “Check your pockets. I think you have something in there that could help.” With that, Taliesin walked into the fog, waving goodbye as he went.

Molly huffed. He had checked his pockets so many times, what could possibly--

There was something in his pockets. He frantically turned them out. One pocket in his pants had a flask that had the same sheen as Nott’s. The other pocket had a drawing of everyone in the Mighty Nein charging together into battle. One pocket in his coat had a box of cigarettes with a small flint and steel. The last pocket had a small bag of pills with a note. “When things seem hopeless, Papa Molly.”