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I Rediscovered Fanfiction This Year and It Reconnected Me to My Inner Teen

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Flashback to 2015. Some may say I was a connoisseur of fanfiction genres. From hurt/comfort to alternative universes, I appreciated and devoured all forms of fan writing. A lot of the time, I was reading slow-burn, enemies-to-lovers SwanQueen fanfiction on Archive of Our Own as I went about my morning commute to high school. Or flicking my eyes between my bedroom door and an explicit Sam Winchester x Reader fic on my phone as I humped my pillow as quietly as possible. Or dreaming I would someday be able to write like the fics with 100k+ words and thousands of kudos that were so popular they created fandoms within fandoms.

***

I stopped reading fanfiction once I got to college. A large reason why is that I was simply too busy. I double majored in English Literature and Gender and Women’s Studies. Shakespeare and feminist theory — instead of a fictional character realizing they were in love with their best friend the whole time or getting their brain fucked out — had me up until 3 a.m. With school, work, and extracurricular activities, my days of fervent fanfiction consumption were long gone and forgotten.

Another, deeper, reason is that I was on a quest to sever ties with the pieces of me that weren’t aligned with the version of myself I wanted to be. That version was measured by quantities — I needed to be less weird, less awkward, more social, and more in tune with whatever the popular social climate was. I ditched pillows for a vibrator and dildo. I told myself I needed to ditch my ties to fandom culture as well.

***

In literary history, there’s arguably a surprisingly high amount of texts that’d be considered fanfiction. Paradise Lost is fanfiction of the Bible, The Iliad is fanfiction of ancient Greek orality, and Lancelot’s basically an OC (original character) who was never a part of the original Arthurian Legend canon. But they’re all considered literature.

Fanfiction isn’t considered literature. It’s juvenile, written by amateurs, uncreative because it’s based on existing material. There’s never any “depth” or “universal truth” (whatever that means). It doesn’t matter that it’s an accessible route for writers to publish their work, a celebration of beloved works, and a vehicle for people to form connections. It doesn’t matter that there are many people whose only way to read is through free fanfiction websites because they may not have the means to go to a library or bookstore. Fanfiction isn’t managed by publishing companies or sold at bookstores, so it’s not taken seriously.

***

Fast forward to February of this year. Time feels stilted, like I’m stuck in traffic and there’s barely any movement. It’s excruciating to go from being in a fast-paced environment, inundated with responsibilities, to spending my days waiting for a “We would like to offer you the position…” email or relentlessly applying to any job posting I can find.

When nothing’s happening in the present, you either look to the past or future to fill in the gaps. I had no idea what the future held, so I chose the past.

I can’t explain how exactly it happened, but from idle browsing on the internet, I found myself back where I was at 15 years old. Back to OTPs, chapters with gut-wrenching cliffhangers, and characters getting the happy endings they didn’t get from their original stories. Obviously, I’m more mature and have had more life experiences since adolescence but, alongside rediscovering fanfiction, I also rediscovered my teen self. She never left and was merely forced into a box with a lock and key under layers of self-hatred. The best version of myself wasn’t achieved through reinvention. It was achieved through acceptance.

***

From PEN15 to Turning Red, there seems to be a rise in the “Cringey Teen Girl.” Though similar, it’s not exactly the overly white, often male-gazey category of quiet and nerdy girls in movies and television. The Cringey Teen Girl’s awkwardness isn’t palatable, nor is it constructed to be portrayed as “cute” or “endearing.” The Cringey Teen Girl’s lack of grace, like obsessing over a celebrity or failing in social spheres, is unbearable and creates an unsettled feeling in viewers because her behavior isn’t accepted by the general public. The category also doesn’t necessarily fall under the “Not Like Other Girls” trope; she is like other girls, because so many girls are, or once were, her.

The Cringey Teen Girl is a reflection of how mainstream society wrongfully invalidates the interests of teen girls. Whether it’s fanfiction, a celebrity crush, TikTok, or any other form of pop culture, if it has a fanbase largely made up of passionate teen girls, it’ll be dismissed. It’s misogyny at its finest; the interests of teen boys aren’t nearly as ridiculed. It’s also another weapon to make teen girls hate themselves.

***

I’m not in the place I was in February. I have a job and am in grad school. But I also make time to read some juicy fanfiction. On the train or in the comfort of my bed after a long day of work or class, you may find me fangirling from characters having their first kiss or bookmarking a specific fic if it has a sex scene I want to try in real life later. If you look hard enough, you’ll also find my inner teen fangirling with me, happy and unashamed.

Quiz: What Fanfiction Trope Are You?

Are you the kind of person who disappears in the middle of a party because you simply have to read the latest chapter of a fic you’ve been not-so-patiently waiting on an update for the second it’s live? Do you have a mental list of fic wips that will probably never be completed and therefore will haunt you for the rest of your life? (An unfinished Riverdale fic takes up 83% of my brain at any given time.) Well, do I have a quiz for you! I one time paid for airplane wifi simply so I could read The Hunger Games fic. Why didn’t I just download them so I could read offline? Great question, and unfortunately I cannot remember if there is a valid answer, but I’m sure there was not. Anyway, if you can relate to that unhinged behavior, then once again, this quiz is for you. Do you embody the gentle energy of a coffeeshop AU? The chaos of a crossover? The scintillating push and pull of a hurt/comfort fic? Take the quiz to find out! And drop your hottest fic trope takes in the comments.

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Writing Myself into the Erotic

The words "hot trans summer" in pink and orange gradient.

‘Hot Trans Summer‘ is a series of essays documenting the complicated pleasure of being trans, curated by our trans subject editor Xoai Pham.

The thing about fantasy—one of the things about fantasy—is that none of us fantasize the same way. When we close our eyes (in the dark, in the shower, alone, with our partners) and take ourselves to that inner place where we find our pleasure, none of us get to that place the same way.

There’s a beauty to that. I’ve always loved it. I’ve loved knowing that each of us has that secret place inside of us, where our imagined body is ours alone, whether it matches the physical body or not.

“You called me sweetheart,” he says. It comes out in a gasp as he sinks down, stretch and heat. He takes her into him like she belongs there, each new inch a blessing, too much and not enough. “No one ever calls me sweetheart.”

I discovered fanfiction in my seventh-grade computer class. I don’t remember the exact assignment, or how—or why, honestly—we were given so much leeway to be searching for whatever we wanted without any kind of instructor oversight, but I found myself scrolling fanfiction.net with little to no supervision.

This was back in the days when sex scenes in fanfiction were coded as lemon and lime–these days, to use Archive of Our Own comparisons, a lime would be rated M, a lemon rated E, but honestly it was always a blurry line–and I was never the kind of kid who let a “not for kids” rating stop me from clicking.

Fanfiction was my first exposure to queerness–my first glance into the world that would become my home, my community, my safe place. It was my first glimpse at the myriad possibilities of ways to love, ways to be touched, ways to have a body.

I found fanfiction while on the cusp of my body turning into something I didn’t recognize and wasn’t sure how to live in. Sometimes, I think that saved my life.

“Look at me,” she breathes, and opening your eyes feels like an impossible ask, but you do it, because she’s the one asking. She’s spread you so wide you think you could cry. Your stomach is slick where you’ve already come, and if she asks you to do it again, you will. “There you are,” she says, and kisses you until you shake in her arms. “I see you. I see you.”

The year I turned 25, I wrote 100,000 words of slash fanfiction, bought a strap-on, and taught my partner that sometimes I was a bottom and sometimes I was a woman, but I was very rarely both. I cried for a half-hour the first time I wore it and he made me come.

Writing has always been a form of therapy for me. I have a reputation, in just about every fandom space I’ve been in, for sex scenes with an undercurrent of terrible vulnerability—the ones that cup your face in your hands and whisper, in order to accept tenderness, we must first accept that we’re allowed to be broken. That hurt/comfort bittersweetness that breaks our hearts and puts them back together. Writing those scenes lets me shape the pictures I come back to, when I reach for an image to turn me on or make me come: when I’m in bed, alone or with partners, I often keep my eyes closed, and the body I imagine myself in, the body that receives touch, isn’t the one I see in the mirror but the one I hold in my head, flatter in the chest and broader in the shoulders and hard between the legs. Holding the picture of that body and letting the scenes I’ve written play out in my head turns my dysphoria into a buzz instead of a roar, and lets me experience touch and taste and pleasure in a way that makes my body sing.

Sometimes it makes me wonder if I’ve gone too far the other way—if fantasy has become dissociation, if I take myself so far into the space of an imaginary body that I’ve lost connection to my own. But sensation breaks through: the sweet smell of my partner’s hair when I kiss her neck; the press of fingers inside me, thicker than my own; the taste of silicone, the sound of skin-on-skin. My body is real, and I live inside it, and I am not less trans just because I let it bring me pleasure.

You slip two fingers inside him, where everything is slick and wet and open. His breast is soft against your other hand, and when you thumb over his nipple, he arches under your touch. “Can you come like this?” you ask, your mouth against his hip, and the muscles around your fingers flutter like a hummingbird heart.

I write a bit of myself into every scene, every kiss, every orgasm. I bring every scene off the page, into the space behind my eyelids, behind my breastbone, between my legs. I write myself the scenes I need to read—the ones that find the place between fantasy and reality and brokenness and healing, and dig in until it hurts with the kind of sweetness that makes you lean in, not away.

When I tell people that I wrote myself a sexual body, I don’t know if they believe me. But our bodies are stories as much as they’re anything else. I wrote myself love stories until I could see myself inside them, until every fluid, transient expression of my body and gender and self has space to be seen.

I see myself there, desired, embodied, touched. It sinks into me like a physical presence, and I open to it like a lover. I feel every inch of it. I drink it in deep, and it feels good all the way down.

I Still Can’t Believe Teddy Altman is Bisexual

I Still Can’t Believe is a TV Team series where we remember the things happened on television that baffle us — in good and bad ways — to this very day.

Sometimes, I have to repeat it to myself, like an affirmation I am trying to trick my brain into believing. On good days, it sticks, and I can keep it in my head for a couple of hours, convinced this is the time I will finally accept it. Most of the time, though, it slides right back out. Slippery. Determined not to be caught. And then I have no choice but to start the process over, chanting to myself as I empty the dishwasher and before I drift off to sleep: Teddy Altman is bisexual, Teddy Altman is bisexual, Teddy Altman is bisexual…

I don’t know why this particular piece of storytelling refuses to lodge in my brain, but alas, it does. It’s not even close to the wildest thing Grey’s have ever done— they went to the “two people are stuck together on a pole” well in the second season. They need all the plot they can get! Honestly, it’s not even the egregious retconning — though, to that I say: My girl was best friends with a queer couple and you expect me to believe that after a glass or two of Riesling, there was never a “Well, you know Allison, my best friend from med school who I was in love with” never came up??

I was not born yesterday Krista Vernoff! I’ve been in rooms with slightly wine drunk queer women, and let me tell you: It’s all coming up. But I have been a Grey’s watcher for a long time, I’ve learned to accept a wild retcon or two. So it begs the question: what’s my issue?

I mean, it’s not like I think Teddy is straight. Far from it. Teddy’s got this… presence that makes my housemates and I sit up and say “oh that’s gay as hell” anytime she does anything. Of course I noticed the breathless tension that vibrated between Teddy and Cristina from the moment they met, that’s what I do. I was raised on fanfiction, it taught me how to watch TV.

Teddy Altman? I’ve never heard of you.
Cristina Yang? I’ve never heard of you either — so I guess that makes us even.

It’s an energy you become attuned to seeking out, creating what you want to see with what’s in front of you.

She needs to be pushed; she’s like a racehorse, you need to push her otherwise she’s gonna lose her mind.

It was always easy with these two. Watch this scene, then look me in the eye and tell me that this fight is really about Owen Hunt, a man so horrible and useless I considered not even committing his name to the page. No, this fight about finally feeling recognized and supported, it’s about someone finally seeing you and threatening to take that away, because their feelings are too big, too complicated to name.

You believe in me more than I do, and I need that — I am gonna die here without that.

Florence and The Machine is playing, it is romantic and sweeping. I’m always in this twilight; in the shadow of your heart. It’s the kind of scene fanfic writers dream of, it’s big and dramatic and there are things lingering in unsaid spaces and come on, of course I know Teddy Altman is bisexual. I just can’t believe it.

Still of Teddy and Cristina from Grey's Anatomy. Teddy is drinking champagne, Cristina is looking at her as she does.

Your honor? These are girlfriends.

That’s the thing about fanfic. (“just get to the damn point already!” you are muttering at me by now, not unfairly. It’s connected, I promise!)

There are a lot of us, I think, who discovered a love of pop culture through the lens of fanfiction. It taught me about different kinds of sexualites and thrilling ways of having sex that I didn’t quite understand, but wanted to explore. It taught me that my writing — forever too “voicey” for my teachers and college professors — had a place, that it belonged somewhere. It taught me that I didn’t need to accept stories and characters as they were presented on my television screen.

I could take whatever I had been given and reshape it into a story I liked better. It’s gay if I want to make it gay, I say now, about everything, all the time. A creator’s intent can only take you so far, and at the end of the day we are left with the images on our screens and how they rattle against the things in our heads.

To learn this information now — Teddy Altman, bisexual! — I bristled out of instinct. Of course she is, where have you been? I’ve been here, doing the work! This is why I always think of fanfic as gift, why I will remain endlessly grateful to it for teaching me to take what I need from media and leave the rest, for teaching me that the images on our movie and television screens matter, and for reminding me that there is so much more to it than that. It allowed me to build a community of real life friends who are all gay as hell, it introduced me to some of my favorite writers.

And look, maybe I am too used to reading subtext and finding fix-it fics to know what to do with something as simple as the thing you wanted being canon. Maybe I forget it because I don’t know how to accept it.

Maybe all I need to do is adjust my tone, maybe it’s not: I cannot believe Teddy is bisexual, eye roll implied.

Maybe I’ve learned to be more grateful.

Teddy Altman is bisexual? Wow, I can’t believe it.

“Vampires Are Descending on Los Angeles”: An A+ TV Team Fan Fiction

This A+ Fan Fiction is part of the 13 Days of A+. From December 13 through December 25, we’re celebrating the people who literally keep our lights on, who believed we could make it through 2020, who invest and participate in this community through challenges and growth and change — that’s YOU. It’s truly magical to have so many guardian gayngels looking out for this space, and we’re so delighted to be able to do something a little special for our queer fam to close out the year. Some of what we publish for the 13 Days will be cozy and familiar, like Into the A+ Advice Box and Some Answers to Some Questions You’ve Been Asking Us. Some of it will be a twist on regulars; we have Malic White as a guest editor for two installments of the erotica series S L I C K for one… and the rest? We’re going to keep those pieces all boxed up in scissoring-patterned wrapping paper until they publish. We’re looking forward to spending some time with you. 💙

A Brief Note from your editor, Carmen: Once our team decide that our contribution to the “13 Days of A+” (thank you A+ members for all that you do!) would be a group fan fiction, the idea came together fairly quickly. We wanted a plot that would play to variety of our team strengths (sci-fi and superheroes for Valerie, hating men for Heather, political intrigue for Natalie, etc) — and the idea of Buffy returning to Southern California to meet Bette Porter, who in our alternative reality would have obviously won her race for mayor, was too good to pass up.

The rules of our fanfic round robin were simple: Everyone received a required start and end point for their section of story, but what happened between those two points was completely up to the discretion of the author — and boi did our team epically deliver beyond my wildest imagination! We somehow incorporated more than 20 lesbian, bisexual, and trans characters across at least eight different television shows!! We really just went for the entire expanded lesbian cinematic universe, hahaha. And we hope you enjoy it as much as we enjoyed putting this bonkers little story together! Before I forget — an * before an author’s name denotes NSFW content, but moving past it won’t change the overall plot.

And so our story begins…

Natalie

Bette decided not to go home last night. She didn’t want to be greeted by an empty house or miss the bass from Angie’s music echoing throughout the halls or hear the echoes of a love lost ring in her ears.

You just took up so much space.

Everything was on your timeline, on your terms.

Because you’re never wrong.

No, Bette thought, she was better off at the office: reading briefing binders and staff memos and responding to messages that she’d let languish in her inbox. It wasn’t until 2AM — after reading a dizzying set of memos about the shooting death of Andres Guardado — that Bette decamped to the conference room and began tracking the correlation between incidents of police brutality and city spending. Four hours later, Dani found her there: still working, surrounded by copies of the city budgets from the last decade.

“Mayor Porter?” Dani called out. “Mayor Porter, are you okay?”

“Dani! Of course,” Bette answered, rubbing her eyes

“Did you go home last night?”

“No, I stayed and got some work done,” Bette explained. She paused before continuing, “Tina, my ex-wife, is getting married this weekend. Working all night on an updated budget proposal seemed like a better use of my time than doing something self-destructive like drinking and going home with some stranger.”

Dani paused, slightly uncomfortable, at the idea of Bette going home with someone that wasn’t her. She’d gotten good about hiding her feelings, though, this time cloaking them with humor, “Well, as your Communications Director, I’m grateful that you chose the less public option; I can only imagine what the coverage of that would’ve looked like.”

That earned her a chuckle from Bette, who ran her fingers through her hair and turned back to the whiteboard she’d been jotting numbers down on all night.

“I’m sorry about Tina,” Dani added.

“Yeah, me too,” Bette said.

Dani let the silence linger, unsure of what to do next: should she push the boundaries of her relationship with her boss or should she steer the conversation back towards the professional. But, as was her wont, Bette made the choice for her: She grabbed her tablet and started scribbling more numbers on the board.

“So, are you going to tell me what you spent all night working on… or, more to the point, why couldn’t you just let the budget office handle this?”

“I just wanted to have a better understanding of the numbers before I talked to the budget office about it. Did you know that in the last budget proposal we spent $1.86 billion on policing?”

“I do know that… and what you also know from looking at all these budgets is that that’s a sizable decrease from the year prior.”

“I’m not sure I’d call it sizable but my point is…”

“Bette, you can’t,” Dani interjected. “The city’s not there yet and your relationship with the LAPD is already frosty… you can’t throw a grenade into that relationship this early in your term.”

“It’s frosty because they sent a fuckin’ spy to serve as my bodyguard and driver,” Bette spat back.

“They did and that was the reason we didn’t get much pushback on the budget cuts and why you were able to pick your own detail,” Dani reminded her. “If you want to do this, we can look at it but not right now, not like this.”

Bette conceded defeat, perching herself next to Dani, staring at the numbers on the whiteboard. Dani tried (and failed) to not be bothered by their closeness.

“When I’m working late and I need a break, I’ll go up to the observation deck and look out over the city. That view humbles me each and every time. It’s a reminder of the amazing amount of work we have to do and all the people counting on us to deliver for them. Maybe we ruffle some feathers or piss people off but I’m just not satisfied with the belief that in the most creative city in the world, we can’t imagine better solutions to police brutality or homelessness or the opioid epidemic.”

“Mayor Porter?”

Bette turned toward the voice at the conference room door, “Good morning, Detective. You’re a little early, I won’t be needing my detail until later.”

“There’s an emergency, ma’am, and I’ve been asked to take you to a more secure location where you’ll conference with LAPD and the Department of Homeland Security.”

“Wait, what? What’s going on?”

“Mayor Porter, we have to move. I need to know where Angie is so I can make sure she’s secured.”

“She’s with Tina. Detective Williams…Tasha….what’s going on?”

“Mayor Porter, vampires are descending on Los Angeles.”

Heather

Buffy wasn’t proud of it, but when things went sideways with Faith, she bounced. Like really bounced. Out of Sunnydale, out of California, out of the country. She hadn’t been back in… a decade? There were vampires to fight everywhere, and it least in Norway and Sweden and Poland and Iceland and Germany and — god it was so cliche — Romania, the weather got dark and cold enough to suit her mood in those early days of her breakup. Okay, fine. Years. But here she was, back in SoCal, standing outside City Hall, a special favor for Willow who was doing a special favor for someone named Tasha Williams who had the face and biceps of someone a lot of lesbians did a lot of special favors for. Yeah, Buffy had checked her Instagram.

Buffy wasn’t even sure who the mayor of Los Angeles was these days. Some jackass who had an easier time believing in vampires than believing the person sent to defeat them was a woman, no doubt.

She flashed her badge at the security checkpoint and showed herself up to the mayor’s office. There were a couple of dudes in cheap suits hanging around outside. LAPD. Blech.

“I’m here to see the mayor,” she announced. The men stopped their small talk and all gave her the same up-down.

“Oh, right,” one of them said. “The broad. Summers. Detective Summers.”

“Not a detective,” Buffy said.

“Okay,” he shrugged, “Mrs. Summers.”

“Dr. Summers,” Buffy countered.

The men exchanged a glance she was used to. One of those bitches, they confirmed with each other. One of them opened up the door and waved her inside. Buffy strode in with the annoyed confidence and stopped in her tracks immediately inside the door.

There was a suit behind the command desk all right, but not another everyguy. The woman… the woman mayor… the mayor seemed just as surprised that she wasn’t some dude, but her face shifted immediately from shock to delight.

Buffy switched her attention to the only familiar face in the room. “Detective Williams?”

“You can call me Tasha,” she replied, stepping forward to shake Buffy’s hand. “Mayor Porter, this is Dr. Summers, the world’s foremost vampire… hunter?”

“Slayer,” Buffy replied. “You know, or whatever. Assassin. Pursuer. Huntress.”

Tasha didn’t laugh. Mayor Porter smirked. And, if Buffy wasn’t very much mistaken, gave her the classic up-down.

“I didn’t realize we had vampire doctors,” Mayor Porter said. “I’m learning so much tonight.”

Buffy smiled for the first time since getting off the plane at LAX. “My doctorate is actually in art history. Post-Dante depictions of Judgment from the late Middle Ages through the Renaissance. Hell, basically.”

Definitely an up-down!

“I’m familiar with the subject myself,” Mayor Porter said, ” Bosch’s The Garden of Earthly Delights is a favorite.”

Detective Williams cleared her throat. “So, Dr. Summers, what are we going to do about these vampires?”

Valerie Anne

“I have… people,” Buffy started, but then shifting her gaze from Tasha to Mayor Porter, she realized that she was finally in a room where she didn’t have to pull punches when pitching her team to authorities. “Women, actually. A lot of them. I’m not sure how many of them can get to LA in time, but that’s why I have so many women on hand.” Buffy resisted wincing as she realized how that sounded, but the corner of Bette’s mouth crept into a slow smirk.

“Having a posse on speed dial. I can respect that.” Bette and Tasha exchanged a knowing glance. Bette shifted as though her allotted minute of stillness for the day was used up and started dialing the phone at the same time as she jutted her chin toward the door. “Tasha, show Buffy to the bunker. That should work as a war room for now. Buffy, Tasha knows how to find me if you need me. But try not to need me.” And just like that Bette was barking orders on the phone while typing furiously on her tablet as if they had already left the room.

Buffy started shooting off texts as Tasha led her through the large building, conveniently empty now that they’re in the post-work hours. As Buffy copy and pasted the same call to arms, she found herself lamenting the fact she couldn’t use one group chat because of her ex drama while simultaneously being grateful technology has advanced well beyond her beeper days.

As Tasha ushered her through what seemed like a regular door from Buffy’s admittedly distracted point of view, a text came through that said, in all caps, OPEN THE WINDOW!

Buffy looked up at the room and swiftly moved to do just that. Before she could even let go of the pane, she was knocked back by a blur of blue. And while Tasha looked taken aback by the fact that there were now three women in the room that weren’t there before, Buffy didn’t blink, clearly used to Supergirl’s mode of transportation. And sure enough, in a blur of blonde-on-blonde, Buffy was enveloped in a hug that looked like it would have broken a weaker woman’s ribs. “Hi, Kara,” Buffy let out, trying to sound apathetic but unable to hide her smile as she returned the super squeeze.

“Buffy! I missed you so much! I wish I could stay but, you know.”

“I know, Kara. It’s good to see you anyway. And thanks for bringing the calvary.” Buffy jutted out her chin toward the two women introducing themselves to Detective Williams as Anissa Pierce and Ryan Wilder, though Tasha seemed distracted by the…unique outfits the women donned. Tight, form-fitting…costumes? Uniforms? What amused Tasha most was the masks, though it did explain the strange code names they gave her. Batwoman. Thunder.

Kara mimed checking a watch, though there was nothing on her wrist. “Two more should be here in three… two… one…” And right on cue, Alex Danvers floated through the open window, her jet pack whirring as she came to a soft landing in the large conference room, Nia Nal zipping in on her heels.

“That. Was. AMAZING.” Alex gave Nia a high five, Buffy a wave, and went to introduce herself to Tasha, too. Kara laughed at her sister and turned back to Buffy, wishing her luck, and wooshing off as fast as she appeared.

“Great to see you again, Buff! Here,” Before Buffy could protest the nickname or whatever Alex was draping over her torso, the older Danvers sister continued, “Lena made this for you.”

Buffy looked down and saw that she had what looked like a bandolier across her chest, but instead of bullets, there were stakes. “And look, it’s automatic!” Alex plucked a stake from a slot on her chest and sure enough, all the stakes shifted so the front of the bandolier was all full. Buffy cracked a real, genuine smile at this.

“That’s fucking awesome.”

Buffy went over and greeted Anissa, Ryan, and Nia before turning her attention back to Tasha.

“I thought Mayor Porter called this a war room.”

Tasha’s expression remained stoic as ever, but Buffy could swear she saw her eyes smile. “She did, ma’am.”

Tasha’s hand reached out and slid what looked like an ordinary plaque down on the wall, revealing a red button, which she promptly pushed. Metal sheets clamped down over three of the walls, and the fourth whirred and shifted to reveal several large monitors. The table sank down into the floor and a series of computers and hubs appeared in its place. Alex started going from screen to screen like a kid in a candy store, already pulling up maps of the city and sending the other four women off with orders. Confident Danvers knew what she was doing, Buffy went back to scrolling through her phone to see who else was on board for this mission.

After what somehow felt like minutes and days at the same time, but in reality was about an hour, everyone was in place and ready for Buffy to say the word and set the plan in motion. But Alex didn’t look as ready as the slayer would have expected. She started to wring her hands and turned back to Buffy.

“What’s wrong?”

“Well, we have Dreamer and Batwoman on rooftops tracking the horde; Thunder, Waverly, and Nicole on the ground keeping civilians away and funneling the vamps to the town square; and Willow, Karolina, and Nico creating a magical barrier to keep them there—”

“Plus, Sara and Ava on standby with the Legends in case we royally screw this up,” Buffy interjected.

“Right…”

“Okay well everything sounds like it’s going according to plan, so why do you look like you’re about to tell me you had to send my dog to a farm upstate?”

“There are too many for you to take on by yourself,” Alex started, and as she saw Buffy puff up in indignation she put her hands on her hip and steeled her voice. “I ran the math, and we can’t guarantee the witches can hold long enough for one person to take them all out. And besides, it doesn’t make sense strategically when that’s not our only option…You need…”

Buffy sighed. “Faith. I need Faith.”

——— ———

Buffy was standing on the edge of a fountain downtown and regretting giving Mayor Porter direct access to her via earpiece.

“Ms. Summers.”

“Doctor.” Buffy rarely insisted people use her honorific but she didn’t like the tone in Bette’s voice. Especially as she could see the shadows of the vampire horde creeping closer in the distance.

“You said you had this handled.”

“I do. We do.” Beams of purples, blues, pinks and a rainbow of other colors started to knit themselves together, slowly forming a dome over the city’s center.

“Then why am I hearing from Ms. Danvers…”

Buffy heard a distant interruption, “Actually I’m married… and also a doct—” but Bette either didn’t hear Alex’s interjection or didn’t care.

“…that you’ve got a missing chess piece.”

Buffy watched as the first vampires spilled into the streets, her heart racing with both pre-fight adrenaline and the fear that she burnt this bridge so badly even a slayer couldn’t leap over the chasm. But she kept her voice steady as she answered the mayor, shifting her feet into a fighting stance as the vampires continued to rush toward her in a rage she was all too familiar with.

“She’s not missing she’s just—”

“Fashionably late.” The brunette slayer hopped up onto the fountain next to Buffy and took her time raking her eyes down Buffy’s body. “Looking good, B. Nice hardware.” Faith ran her hand slowly down the edge of Buffy’s new bandolier.

And just like that, years melted away and Buffy was transported back. Long stakeouts that ended in them wrestling each other instead of any baddies, hard fights that found them in the shower in the wee hours of the morning, running their fingers and lips over each other’s already-healing bruises.

“Hey, you okay?”

That husky voice that felt like home snapped Buffy out of her reverie. She whipped two stakes out of her bandolier, tossed them to Faith, and pulled two more out for herself. She turned to face the oncoming rush of growling, snarling vampires charging their way.

“Five by five.”

* Drew

Nia always felt so awkward during this part. The planning made sense to her. The fighting made sense to her. But after? What? You’re supposed to almost die alongside a superhero fight squad and then just go home. How did people turn it on and off so quickly? She wanted to go dancing! Run around in circles! At least grab dinner. Kara said this was just because she was young — that someday she’d want to rest too. She hated when Kara said that.

“Dreamer, right?”

Oh my God, the vampire slayer was talking to her. The scary one. Good scary. Nia felt sweat start to form under her mask.

“You can just call me Nia.” She tried to sound casual. She did not sound casual.

“You were great out there. Hey B! BUFFY!” Faith was shouting behind her.

The other slayer walked up to them. Buffy. Nia knew about Buffy. Everyone knew about Buffy. And here she was just staring at her.

“What Faith?”

“Wasn’t this chick great?” Faith gestured towards Nia still just standing there trying not to fangirl.

“Yeah she really saved me a few times.” Buffy smiled.

“Oh God no. I was just— It wasn’t a big deal. You had it under control.” Nia could barely get the words out. She felt like she was talking through old bubblegum.

Had Alex left without her? She sort of hoped she had.

“What was that blue stuff you were shooting?” Buffy took a step closer.

“Oneiric energy. The same thing that lets me see the future in my dreams.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Faith shouted like she wasn’t right next to her. “See the future in your dreams?”

“That’s kind of her whole thing.” Buffy seemed annoyed with Faith. But Nia couldn’t tell if it was genuine. They’d fought so well together. Like they were meant for each other. They stood side by side like people who’d been as close as people can be.

Nia flinched as Faith reached a hand towards her face. Faith laughed. She removed the Dreamer mask and Nia felt a rush of air.

Nia’s stomach leapt to her heart with horny anxiety as Faith stared into her eyes. Had everyone else left? Was it just the three of them?

Faith’s next words landed like a stake through the heart: “Did you dream about us?”

——— ———

“Don’t fucking judge me, B.”

Faith unlocked the door to her Venice Beach apartment. It was dingy. Not what you’d expect from beachfront property. To be fair, it wasn’t beachfront — it was six blocks away.

“I gave up judging you a long time ago,” Buffy shot back. Her face said otherwise.

Nia felt like she’d stepped into a seven season drama and she desperately needed a recap. Exes, right? They had to be exes?

Faith’s apartment wasn’t dirty, but it was cluttered. And it wasn’t decorated. Unless you count the weapons on the walls as decoration.

Nia walked over to a triple crossbow that filled almost an entire wall.

“Woah this is wild. How do you even—”

Nia felt Faith’s breath on her neck and her arm around her waist.

“Hey.”

Nia tried not to stiffen as she turned her head to meet Faith’s gaze.

“What are you doing, Faith?” Buffy interrupted.

“What’s wrong? She knows why we invited her here. Don’t you, Ni?”

Faith’s body was still pressed completely against Nia.

“I thought maybe, but, um—” As Nia stumbled through her words her brain shouted KISS ME KISS ME KISS ME.

Faith did.

Nia turned around leaning into the kiss. She could taste the salt from Faith’s sweat around her mouth. She wanted more. She wanted all of her. Faith pulled away.

“A kill like that always turns me on. Don’t you remember, B?” She walked over to Buffy. She placed a hand on her cheek.

Surprising only Nia, Buffy’s hand flew up and gripped Faith’s wrist. Faith flew into the air and then smack down on her back. Buffy was on top of her as Faith gasped for air and laughed.

“How could I forget?” Buffy stared down at Faith with a smirk. “You think you’re so bad, huh? Blondie can’t play rough? You always underestimated me.” She pinned Faith’s wrists above her head and kissed her hard. Faith wrapped her legs around Buffy and pulled her close as she tried and failed to free her arms.

Nia just stood there. Watching.

Faith squeezed her legs together and with a thud flipped Buffy on her back. She turned her head and her eye’s met Nia’s.

“That your thing, Ni? Just watching?

“No! Um, I—”

“Come here.”

As Nia walked over to Faith and Buffy, Faith peeled her sweaty shirt off. She guided Nia to the floor and Nia’s mouth met her neck, her collar bone, her nipple. She stayed there for a moment, but then, nah, she could play their game too.

Nia shot blue lassos of energy out of each of her hands — one wrapping around Buffy, one around Faith. Nia lifted them both in the air and slammed them hard against opposite walls. Weapons crashed to the floor along with the slayers.

“Sorry. Too hard?” Nia smirked at Faith before yanking Buffy close to her. They began making out and tearing off their clothes, Nia leaving her gloves on. She yanked Faith in too and let the lassos disappear.

Nia couldn’t believe it. This morning she was in her own city, in her own universe, and now here she was literally sandwiched between two forty-year-old vampire slayers.

Faith reached a hand around and gripped Nia’s thigh. She moved her hand towards Nia’s underwear and stopped.

“Oh right you’re an alien,” Faith said matter-of-factly.

Nia laughed. “That’s not because I’m an alien. I’m trans.”

Buffy groaned. “Jesus Faith.”

“What! I don’t care! She’s hot.” Faith went back to kissing Nia’s ear.

Another lasso of energy shot out of Nia’s hand and within seconds Faith was pinned to the couch. Nia slipped out of her underwear, picked it up, and shoved it in Faith’s mouth.

“Stop talking.”

Nia sucked on Faith’s neck hard enough to make a mark before leaving her there to watch as she returned to Buffy.

A phone rang.

“Shit!” Buffy jumped towards her pants and grabbed her phone. “I forgot to call the mayor.”

Faith tried to speak to no avail as Buffy answered. Nia took her underwear out of Faith’s mouth.

“What?”

“I said, see if she wants to come by.”

Buffy rolled her eyes and walked into the bathroom closing the door behind her.

Nia got on top of Faith and kissed her again. “You’re really something.”

Faith looked up at her new friend. Her body still strapped to the couch with blue dream energy. Faith’s eyes met Nia’s with that devastating gaze.

“Oh baby. You have no idea.”

Carmen

“Thank you, Dr. Summers. No offense, but I hope to never see you again. Unless it’s at an art gallery.”

Mayor Porter hung up the phone in her home office and slumped into her oversized chair, letting out a deep sigh and relaxing her body — feeling her silk pajamas slide across her aching muscles — for what felt like the first time all day. She looked at the time on her laptop. 6:30am. December 31st.

She turned to face the window and could have sworn she saw human figures in the sky against the creeping sunrise but when she rubbed her eyes they’re gone. The last 24 hours were the most surreal she’d ever experienced. There’s a lot of compartmentalization in being mayor of this city, so many things she’ll never be able to tell her friends, secrets that are part of the divine trust between her and the citizens who’ve elected her to protect them. But even if she could tell this one, how would she begin?

“Oh how did I spend New Year’s Eve, you ask? Well this morning was another day of fighting with the racist LA Sheriff’s department who shot Andres Guardado and a fucked up LAPD that will never trust a Black lesbian as their mayor, plus balancing budgets, you know, the usual — and then I switched gears to vampires… that’s right Alice, vampires are fucking real! And not just the Rudy Giuliani kind. Go ahead and break that news on your talk show! I’ll be your first guest.”

Bette pinched her temples. The best part of this day was that it was finally over.

She lifted herself out of the chair and reached for her iPhone with a fumbling hand. She crossed the kitchen, letting her long fingers slide against the cool marble as she debated if 6:30am is too early for a glass of wine if it was also serving as nightcap (sadly, she decided, it was).

She slowly crawled into bed, absentmindedly scrolling through Angie’s Instagram feed — she couldn’t believe how adult and handsome her daughter looked in her navy blue and purple bridesmaid suit, whenever she closed her eyes Angie was still two and palming Cheerios into her mouth — as she finally drifted off to sleep.

——— ———

“Open up the door, Bette! These bottles are too heavy and Shane refuses to help.”

“I refuse to help?!? I told you we didn’t need three bottles of champagne. Bette has plenty to drink and we are on our way to a bar.”

“What about the pre-game Shane, huh? It’s New Year’s Eve! And —“

“Alice,” Bette’s voice gravely and her eyes still closed as she propped the phone next to her on the now too-warm pillow. “What are you doing here?”

“You couldn’t possibly believe that we were going to let you survive Tina’s wedding weekend alone, did you?”

Alice kept talking while Bette shuffled to the door. A few hurried kisses on the cheek later and her two oldest friends had made themselves at home in her kitchen (didn’t they always?) — Shane popping the cork and Alice reaching for glasses.

Bette leaned against the counter, arms crossed. They looked happy. Alice in a sort-of boxy silver top that sparkles under the lights and cuts off at the waist, with black knit pants and her blonde bob curled behind her ears. She had on a dark berry lipstick that’s a little out of her typical style, but it only heightened her glamour. Shane was in all black everything, Joan Jett by way of West Hollywood, as usual.

Alice spun towards her, hands on her hips, “Well?”

“Hmmmm?”

“You haven’t been listening to a word we’ve said! Shane wanted a night away from work, so we are giving Dana’s a break. Her friend, Emma, just opened up her second location of this bar called… what’s the name again?”

“Vida’s. The vibe is more laid back than Dana’s. Emma guaranteed us a table in a dark corner in the back, so as to protect the privacy of madam mayor,” Bette didn’t miss Shane’s sarcastic tone as she handed Bette a glass and pushed her towards her bedroom to change, ignoring her protests.

——— ———

When Bette stepped out of Alice’s car, she had to admit that she looked good. This black velvet dress fit her like a glove, and the low back turned into a silver zipper just beneath her sculpted shoulder blades that perfectly followed the curve of her ass.

She might be ringing in the New Year by herself while the once love of her life began her next chapter — but at least she’s still Bette Fucking Porter. She smirked, laughing at herself, as Shane slid next to her at the table.

Shane lowered her voice, quiet between them, “How are you doing?”

“Mostly fine… a little, sad. I thought I was well past the part of my life where I spent holidays alone in the back of a bar,” Bette’s nerves briefly got the better of her, fingers fiddling with the cocktail napkin in front of her.

Shane steadied her friend’s hands with her own and laid her head against Bette’s shoulder. They sat like that for a while, content in the shadows with the bass throbbing around them.

Then a woman with neatly applied, blood-red lipstick and a jet black bob cut with military-like precision above her shoulders came over to greet them. Her severity was as seductive as it was breathtaking. She extended her hand forward in a handshake too formal for their environment, “Mayor Porter, I am Emma Hernandez, the owner of this establishment.”

Bette was surprised when her mouth went dry, slightly nudging Shane off of her as she lifted her head to meet Emma’s gaze.

“Right, well, this is quite the bar you have. Thank you for making room for us on what I’m sure is your busiest night of the year.”

Emma chuckled, turning her head slightly, “I’m sure you can imagine that having the mayor at our family-owned small business only serves to our own benefit. But you are welcome for our privacy.”

Emma wouldn’t break Bette’s stare; her full red lips curving slightly, her jaw tightening. She swallowed.

Bette knew she shouldn’t, if even one phone catches them, Dani would undoubtedly murder her (if she didn’t quit first out of frustration). But fuck it — vampires are real and Tina is getting married and the only thing she wanted to do tonight was hold another woman’s hips in her hands and guide them to a beat.

She prowled towards Emma, Shane and Alice not so sneakily exchanging stunned glances behind her. “Would you like to dance?”

There’s the dancing that feels like dancing, and the dancing that feels like sex. As Emma guided Bette to a protected corner of the bar away from prying eyes behind a half-wall, this was clearly the latter.

It’s awkward at first, dancing with the most powerful woman in Los Angeles, but Emma’s never found a challenge she couldn’t meet. She set their rhythm, inching close to meet Bette pelvis-to-pelvis, the warmth between their bodies palpable.

Bette’s hands reached low, cupping below Emma’s ass, spinning her — smiling smugly when she heard a small unexpected “oh” gasp beneath her partner’s breath. She wrapped her arms around the front of Emma’s waist, pulling her in until there was nothing but a slow grind between them, entangled limbs and sweat rising on Emma’s collarbone. Bette lowered her head to blow her breath over the droplets, enjoying the goosebumps that pricked in their wake.

Emma all but stopped moving, satisfied to sway as she felt her nipples harden and Bette’s warm breath turned into pillow kisses going up the side of her neck, then biting behind her ear. She would’ve moaned, but she wouldn’t give Bette the satisfaction.

“Would you like to get out of here? My friend drove, but I can have my security detail here to pick us up in 10 minutes. Tasha’s an old friend — very discreet if I ask for a personal favor. Or do you need to stay and close up on such.. an… important… night,” Bette punctuated the last three words with kisses across Emma’s shoulder and even in her tight dress, a thigh somehow impossibly snaked between her legs.

Emma closed her eyes tight and licked her lips, willing her body to regain composure. “My sister, Lyn, can close up. I just have to go find her.”

With that, Bette let her go. LA is safe — for tonight, at least — and maybe she wouldn’t have to sleep alone after all. Happy New Year, indeed.

10 Hallmark Christmas Movies That Are Actually Just Gay Fan Fiction

Every year, the same thing: Five hundred thousand new Hallmark Christmas movies and none of them about lesbians or bisexuals! Only this year when I was scrolling through the list of new holiday classics, combing for clues of any women who might get their faces near one another on a train to the North Pole or something, I noticed that half the plots of these made-for-TV Christmas movies are just queer lady fan fictions or films I’ve seen or read. And so below I have compiled a list of ten of those Hallmark-y holiday movies and pointed you to the place where you can read/watch that same story, but gay.

No Sleep ‘Til Christmas (Freeform)

The plot: Two insomniac strangers discover they can only sleep soundly when the other one is around.

Where you’ve seen it before: Literally every queer woman TV couple on earth has been written into this fan fiction! Clarke can’t sleep without Lexa. Tara can’t sleep without Willow. Ruby can’t sleep without Sapphire. Sara can’t sleep without Ava. Glimmer can’t sleep without Adora.

Mingle All the Way (Hallmark)

The plot: A dating app pairs up two very busy professionals who’ve had a couple of disastrous meetings in the past.

Where you’ve seen it before: Lena Luthor meets Kara Danvers on a dating app called Hearts & Minds and she’s very grumpy about the whole thing and Kara is very good at hugs.

Christmas Made to Order (Hallmark)

The plot: A person in a relationship falls in love with the woman he hired to coordinate his giant Christmas party.

Where you’ve seen it before:

A Gingerbread Romance (Hallmark)

The plot: Two very lovely people fall for each other while crafting pies and cakes and tartlets.

Where you’ve seen it before: Regina and Maleficent in the kitchen. Asami teaching Korra how to pipe icing. And now Korrasami are baking cupcakes. Laura and Carmilla at 3am in their dorm’s communal kitchen. And now they’re baking for Christmas. Peridot bakes (adorably and badly) for Amethyst. Emma and Regina making cookies.

Christmas Wonderland (Hallmark)

The plot: A very talented painter can’t decide whether or not to wreck her life for a person she had a meet-cute with on accident.

Where you’ve seen it before: Naomi and Emily in “Coin Laundry,” literally the best fan fiction ever written.

Northern Lights of Christmas (Hallmark)

The plot: An aspiring pilot inherits a reindeer farm and falls in love with her reindeer farm employee.

Where you’ve seen it before: You haven’t, exactly, but I bet if you pair this Bering and Wells (pilot and flight attendant) fic with this other fic called “Reindeer Games” where Stephanie Brown gets stuck in the chimney trying to get Cassandra Cain to believe in Santa Claus you’ll get an even better result.

Small Town Christmas (Hallmark)

The plot: A successful novelist returns to the hometown that she based her stories on and discovers she’s still kind of in love with her childhood sweetheart.

Where you’ve seen it before:

(Please enjoy Anne Shirley and Diana Berry making the yuletide oh so very gay.)

Christmas Bells Are Ringing (Hallmark)

The plot: A photographer takes a bunch of pictures of her friend and whoops she’s in love now.

Where you’ve seen it before: Toni snapping pics of Cheryl. Quinn photographing Rachel. Emma shooting portraits of Regina.

Santa’s Boots (Hallmark)

The plot: A woman working in a department store falls in love with Santa. He leaves his boots behind and she scoops them up, determined to return them to him.

Where you’ve seen this before: 

The Princess Switch (Netflix)

The plot: Vanessa Hudgens is a princess who switches.

Where you’ve seen it before: 

https://twitter.com/kateleth/status/1063265797903081472

Halloween Is for Fanficking

Welcome to my page. I hope I didn’t scare you with that headline, which reads a lot like something else at a quick glance! Today we’re talking about fanficking, or the act of bringing fanfic to life.

Fanfic, for a refresher, started as fan-based storytelling incorporating characters and settings from original works of fiction, although I’m sure the confines of source material have bled into the margins over time and there’s now fanfic about like, Benjamin Franklin and the Babadook. While I know this isn’t all fanfic, modern fanfic, from what I can tell, has come to mean romanticizing or sexualizing an otherwise platonic fictional or non-fictional pairing, as in “I’m going to write fanfic about Wonder Woman and most of Themyscira,” or expanding upon an already established fictional or non-fictional pairing, as in, “I’m going to write fanfic about the gay Vegas ad couple.”

It’s in this way that fanfic has become an invaluable resource/outlet for the queer community, who is so often denied the love stories it craves in every possible avenue. We can’t even get the Applebee’s to-go customer and the Applebee’s to-go employee being backed by Melissa Etheridge to get the recognition they deserve. Sad!

This is where Halloween comes in. It’s an opportunity to bring fanfic to life and level the scales. Obviously, this can be done every day with a little thing called role-play, but no one gets to see that, unless they do, given everyone is aware! Halloween is where you – no, we – can shine publicly.

Doing my part to get this fanficking ball rolling, on Halloween I will be the Debbie to my girlfriend’s Ruth from GLOW.

You may have seen a couple pieces from us about the gay undertones of GLOW that have only marginally been made explicit in season two. In particular, the painfully stunted portrayal of Debbie and Ruth’s dynamic is an extra special denial of obvious sexual chemistry and genuine romantic love, made proof by the fact that one of them usually leaves the room screaming crying after having a conversation.

This is not how adult friends act! Here’s a list of some more things that strictly platonic adult friends don’t do, that Debbie and Ruth have done:

  • Choked each other for fun
  • Pulled each other’s hair for fun
  • Asked the other for the permission to date
  • Told the other they miss being made fun of by them
  • Fucked the same guy as a power move
  • Had to alert those around them not to acknowledge their whole deal
  • Stared at each other’s bodies during aerobics
  • Sabotaged the other’s date

And yet we have been forced to watch Debbie trying to get back with her husband, Ruth entertaining being courted by the camera guy, and Ruth testing the waters with their terrible writer/directer. So, we will be righting these wrongs by showing up at every function as Ruth and Debbie, The Couple. It’s a backstory that will appeal to less than five percent of the people in any given area, but if I’ve gotta watch a shoehorned romance between a straight man and Michelle Rodriguez in an action movie, you’re gonna hear about this damn Netflix Original couple.

Also, I’m interested to see where I am mentally, and I guess physically, embodying a character that I am devastatingly attracted to. Should be a fun night!

I bet it’d be fun for you, too. I’m no date expert, but this could be a great first (or second or third) date, because then you sort of have to make out, for the cause. So, if there’s a duo (trio, etc.) in media or history that you know were together/belonged together but have been cast as platonic friends and/or business partners, I ask that you join us and tag Autostraddle on Instagram with a picture of your pairings so I can compile a beautiful list of gay dreams come true.

I love you.

5 Fanfic Rewrites of That Final Killing Eve Scene That Make It Better (Gayer)

SPOILER ALERT: There are obviously spoilers from the finale of Killing Eve below!

Maybe you, like a lot of us, have not been able to stop thinking about the final scene of Killing Eve’s fantastic, thrilling, queer, sexy, smart first season! Maybe you, like a lot of us, were convinced — for a brief but magical moment in time — that the finale would end with Eve and Villanelle acting on their visceral obsession with one another by hooking up! Maybe Eve Polastri (played with frenetic energy by Sandra Oh) had that thought, too, just before she plunged her knife into Villanelle’s stomach. After all, she regretted it almost immediately. Eve’s face after realizing what she had done definitely said “oh shit, lesbian sex would have been so much better than this!”

Well now I don’t have to merely imagine alternate endings to Killing Eve’s finale: I can read them. A group of online heroes have taken it upon themselves to rewrite That Scene, and the results are beautiful (and so very gay). Yes, my fellow Killing Freaks, I am here to report that Killing Eve fanfiction gives us the ending we not only crave but deserve. Here are some of the highlights:

1. Poorly Wired Circuits by Rheaird_of_Life

This internet hero rewrote the finale scene FIVE TIMES! Each chapter is a new way that it could have played out. Some are silly, some are sexy, all are gay. Villanella just, like, undresses and gets in a bathtub in the first one? Here’s an excerpt:

She eyes Eve for a moment waiting for her to also drink before saying, “Did I ever tell you about the time I killed a man with my tits?”

Version two, in which Eve grills Villanelle about Anna:

Oksana’s hand comes to rest on the side of her face, her thumb caresses her cheek. And for a second she thinks Oksana is going to lean in and kiss her. And for a second she almost wants her to. But the moment passes and Oksana drops her arm back to her side. She opens the door for Eve, and Eve finally steps through. She doesn’t get very far before Oksana hails her again.

Version three, when Villanelle walks in on Eve dressing in her clothes and then teaches her HOW TO STAB PEOPLE!!!

Eve feels goosebumps up her spine and all along her arms, when Oksana comes in close and presses herself against Eve’s back. Her left arm wraps around Eve’s waist, possessively, as if she is a thing to be claimed, or perhaps to prevent her from making any sudden movements. Probably both. Oksana’s right arm comes up around her own, hand resting over top Eve’s fist. With the heels on they are the same height, so Oksana has to place her head on Eve’s shoulder in order to see what she is doing. It’s oddly romantic in all of its fucked up glory.

In version four, Villanelle puts on The Pink Dress and brings Eve ice cream and suggests that they watch the movie D.E.B.S. together?! Someone please call a paramedic.

Eve isn’t sure if she’ll ever fully understand this woman, or her trains of thought, but she knows she will never stop trying. Not until one or both of them are dead.

In the final chapter, Eve does stab Villanelle, but then Villanelle lets her patch her up.

Eve flushes but forces herself to look up into Oksana’s eyes. She’s amused once more. And something else. If Eve didn’t know any better, she would think Oksana was looking a little bit aroused. But that was ridiculous, wasn’t it? Then again, Oksana wasn’t exactly normal. For all she knew, blood play was a welcome addition to the bedroom.

2. More Fun Than Killing Me by heyitsathrowaway

This fic asks the important questions like “What if sex instead of murder?”

“Fuck,” says Eve, swaying a bit, “wait, wait, I’m married–”
“You said you lost your husband,” Villanelle points out.
“I didn’t–we’re just going through a rough patch.”
“So have an affair,” Villanelle says. “That’s what couples do during rough patches.”
“Not with professional assassins.”

3. Nacre by willowbilly

Ok, this one dials up the smut to like 100. You’ve been warned.

Something in Eve’s chest expands. Something yearning and selfish. Something which wants to not give a single shit beyond her own base happiness. Something which wants to make impulse decisions, to live like the future can go fuck itself, something which wants to fuck up in the now and accept the obsession.

4. Unconventional by smudgythoughts

Here’s a quick lil drabble in which Eve stabs but then has a nice lil heart-to-heart with Villanelle.

Villanelle grins. It suits her features more than Eve thought it would. Not that she’s been thinking of how Villanelle would smile. “You weren’t happy when you were with him, were you? It was a bit too… unconventional for you. You always wanted something more.”

5. Ne Me Quitte Pas by janewaymills

This one’s still updating, but instead of Eve stabbing Villanelle, they both just fall asleep next to each other. From there, I think this fic is potentially heading in interesting directions!

“You found me,” Oksana said. There was a pause. She listened to Eve’s steady breathing, felt the closeness of their bodies. “Will you stay with me for a bit?” She asked.
“Yeah,” Eve replied. “For a bit.” Oksana nodded. She understood, and couldn’t help but find some enjoyment in, the chaos she had left in her wake. Of course, that meant there was much to be done to tie things back up again–if that was possible. So many threads had been cut in the past few weeks, she wondered what could be salvaged. It was time to shed this version of herself. New life, she thought, and her fingers gently searched for and found Eve’s hand. Neither moved, neither spoke as the single thought on both minds seemed to fill the room: What am I going to do about you?

If you’ve read another Killing Eve fic that ruined your life, remember: Sharing is caring!

Original Shenny Fan Fiction: “This Is What I Want”

Hello all 34 people who are interested in more Shenny content, welcome to April 1st. Last week for the very first time in my life on this planet, I read fan fiction. Specifically, in preparation for this monumental day, I read Shenny fan fiction. And because I am a confident and ambitious person, I immediately thought to myself, “now that I’ve read ~4 pieces of Shenny fan fiction, I’m prepared to write my own piece of Shenny fan fiction and publish it on the internet for Shenny Day.”

What I have for you now is a hastily constructed but very long piece of Shenny fan fiction that needs approximately 10 rounds of edits but will not receive them because today is Shenny Day and also it’s Shenny fan fic, so whatever. I wrote a graphic sex scene and then felt like that was super extra and toned it down and now it doesn’t even make sense anymore but I just wanted to give you a heads-up that sexual content exists in here so you can be prepared. That’s what fan fic usually involves right? I’m asking for a friend, I don’t need to know personally b/c I’m an expert.

Also I wish I’d had the idea to write this sooner so it could’ve had illustrations. Shenny illustrations! If that isn’t heaven then feed me to the manatees. 

Just to be clear, I am a genuine Shenny shipper. Today was a dream come true!!!!

This story takes place in December 2017.

“Jen,” Shane is dead serious. “This breaks like — every rule of responsible threesomes.”

“HA!” Carmen grins wildly, takes another quick swig of her beer. “It is so adorable, Shane, to hear you talk about ‘responsible threesomes’!”

We’re back at the house on Rising Glen in the Hollywood Hills, where from the couch we’ve piled onto we can see the luminous blue glow of the pool, the glass gate encircling it and the whole throbbing night and condo-dotted mountains and vulgar city beyond. It’s way past our bedtime but Carmen and I had a little too much tequila and we’re punchy and giddy, thirst rising like humidity in our throats.

“Oh, Shane is very responsible now,” I tease. I have my whole hand on the back of her head, fingers all up in her ridiculous hair, and I give her scalp an animal scratch while she makes a pouty face and Carmen laughs more. I’d missed that laugh, the one she only gives to people she wanted to fuck who she knows want to fuck her, too. I add, “She’s very good at being a responsible poly partner.”

“I can see that,” Carmen smiles.

“She loves ‘checking in’ about her emotions and hearing about all my little feelings—” I continue, flicking Shane’s lower lip, still pouting. “Better be careful, a bird’s gonna land on that.”

“Ha ha,” Shane says, and then, to Carmen: “Don’t tell me you think this is a good idea.”

“Actually…” Carmen swills the last dregs. “It was my idea.”

“Carmen had it!” I put my hands up. “Carmen had the idea.”

“I meannnn, if you don’t want to,” Carmen leans towards us, biting her lower lip, pressing her hand onto Shane’s extended shin. Her scissor-slaughtered Gal Pal t-shirt dips as she does, leaving at least one nipple on the dangerous precipice of immediate exposure. Quickly, she moves her hand from Shane’s leg to my thigh, just barely underneath my skirt, the kind of touch just tentative enough to make me wetter than any deliberate, expected touch ever could. The kind that gets you wanting but not knowing if you’ll get what you want and also certain that if you do not get what you want, you will probably just melt right there on the spot. I lean in, so to speak. Shane stiffens. So to speak.

“I didn’t say,” Shane speaks like she’s afraid she’ll be overheard. “I didn’t say — wouldn’t ever say — that I didn’t want to.”

“So?” Carmen slides her hand farther up my thigh and her nails are so close to the dip between them that I very nearly yelp.

“I just!” Shane’s fingers against her own mouth, a pause. “I am just trying to respect everybody’s feelings. And Jenny, I know you’ve been having a hard—”

“Okay okay okay okay,” I put my hand on top of Carmen’s, holding it in place. “I think, and Carmen agrees, that this is emotionally safe for us because!” Carmen takes her hand away, slouching back into her end of the couch, arms crossed, eyes steady on us both, thoroughly entertained. I slide off Shane’s lap so she’s behind me and I’m between her legs, both of us facing Carmen now, and Shane’s teeth graze my neck and she whispers, “I love you so much.” I get goosebumps.

I can’t believe we’re here. Where I was a few days ago feels so far away.

*

The day unfortunate enough to occur between the day The Los Angeles Times broke the Mark Wayland story and the day Carmen de la Pica Morales was due to fly in from Berlin for a weekend before a gig in San Francisco and then back to Europe, it rained in Los Angeles with a droning consistency that reminded me of Skokie. But I’d been in a Skokie state of mind for a while, I guess.

Shane, lying on her side, her hand on my ass beneath the silky fabric of her old Free City t-shirt, the one I love to sleep in: “Jen, I can see if she can stay at Bette and Tina’s tomorrow night, I’m sure it’d be fine—”

“No no no no no, don’t do that,” I insisted, my face stupid-hot with tears. “This’ll pass! I will pass through this big icky negative labyrinth nonsense thing.”

Shane lowered her eyes. “It’s not nonsense.”

“I will yank myself out of this emotional mortuary with grace and aplomb and everything will be totally fine.”

“It doesn’t have to be fine.”

I touched her face, then, her smooth cheeks, the crush of her jaw, my finger grazing the choppy bangs she’d consistently maintained only the most remote dominion over regardless of hairstyle.

“Ugh I just!” I wanted to grab my phone like a tiger. “Can you tell me what they’re saying about me? Pretty please.”

“Jen, it’s all stupid, you know that,” she said. “It doesn’t matter. They don’t matter. What matters is that you did the right thing.”

“Right,” I pretend to agree.

An actress I’d worked with on Shockproof Sydney Skate — a five-season single-camera FX series that earned Alice and I the Emmy for Outstanding Comedy writing I keep in our bedroom ‘cause it honestly turns me on to know it’s there — had come to me a few weeks ago. She’d heard I had “a history” with Mark. “I just feel like it’s time, you know?” She said, and yes, sure, of course, what animal wouldn’t agree with that. She wanted to come forward about what he’d done to her. Not just her — a few women who’d worked on crews with him and his former personal assistant, the one we’d dubbed “Shane Junior” ‘cause she was a lesbian and looked even more like Shane than every other masc dyke in West Hollywood. You know my story with Mark is really bizarre, right?  The actress said it didn’t sound bizarre at all, that from what she’d heard it wasn’t the last time he tried to exploit lesbians specifically or film people in vulnerable positions without their consent. She said she’d feel safer talking about her sexual assault with me there, the capital-F Feminist and Noted Survivor. So we met with lawyers, talked to reporters, and scheduled media appearances for this week and next.

But I’d only managed two on-camera interviews yesterday afternoon before having a panic attack while in makeup for the third. My assistant drove me home and because Shane was with me and since she had been filmed by Mark too, she went on in my place. She explained I’d had a family emergency. It was a huge favor. She hated being on camera. I don’t think she ever really wanted to talk to Meghan McCain about the UPS girl.

“Do you want me to cancel my date tonight?” Shane asked. “I can, it’s no big deal.”

“No! No No no. Don’t do that,” I forced a small smile. “I’ll be fine. You should go, you should have fun. Doctor Olson is coming over later.” My psychiatrist. She comes to me because I hate driving and when you’re rich, all the professionals will come to you.

So, later that night, I was crying in my underwear on a lawn-chair by the pool when Shane texted You’re my number one to my temp flip-phone, like she’d agreed to do in the poly rules we’d set up for ourselves nine years ago and had never failed to maintain.

The canvas umbrella I was crying under was okay at shading the sun but terrible at blocking the rain. It offered enough shelter for me to smoke a cigarette while I cried, and for Sounder Junior Junior to curl up whimpering on my lap. If I closed my eyes it felt just like Skokie, back when my body barely ever felt like my own.

I knew that an alt-right website had written THANKS BUT NO THANKS, DYKE DIRECTOR JENNY SHECTER over an image of young sad me with IS THIS WHAT YOU WANT written on my naked torso. Someone had sold it to them for more than they thought I was worth, apparently. I’d almost smiled when Shane told me that Jezebel had headlined the same picture: “Jenny Schecter Is a Lesbian Feminist Performance Artist, It Turns Out” but even that turned into more crying. Why did I give a fuck if a bunch of misogynist trolls with no hobbies and bad jeans who masturbated to unrealistic lesbian porn had become suddenly obsessed with making my life miserable? The house had intense security already, Max had installed some kind of “internet blocking machine” or whatever. I was safe. Right?

I breathed, I inhaled, I can do this, I can calm down, I can do the interviews next week, I can be a good feminist. What better way to chill out than a weekend with a mutual ex who left me for my current wife the same week I found Mark’s cameras? Carmen and I had stayed close, but this’d be the first time she spent much time with Shane since all those years ago.

But — what if I hadn’t grown at all? After everything: all the years of therapy, the Den Meditation retreats I forced Shane to tag along on (seriously, once I caught her skipping Past Life Regression to eat Honey Nut Cheerios in her car), the Healthy Stable Poly Relationship I’m in, making it to LA’s Top Power Lesbian Couples List, the girls I’d fucked and the girls we’d fucked together, the medication and acupuncture and spirit walks and Soul Cycle, making peace with and then building a thriving working relationship with Alice, directing a stupid blockbuster movie that’ll seemingly never stop keeping us in wealth, making an under-appreciated short film (based on my short story about a woman who’s mute from birth but then she realizes she’s able to speak the language of the manatees), cutting my Dad out of my life, mending things with my Mom, having one relatively civil late lunch with Tim Haspel in mid-2011, marrying the love of my life who herself attended one hundred more hours of therapy than she ever would’ve if I hadn’t been there to make her — what if after all of that, all the affirmation and reinvention, I was still that wildly depressed, unspeakably fragile and artistically insufferable girl from 2005?

“I was so excited to see Carmen!” I told Sounder Junior Junior, my poor dog who didn’t give a shit and still hated the rain. But now I felt raw again — incapable and insecure, two emotions that Dr. Olson reminded me always led straight to “controlling.” I took another deep breath. The wind blew out my cigarette.

I remember when Shane told me that she’d already started falling in love with me, back then, when we lived with Mark, which wasn’t too far before I started realizing I felt the same way.

But Carmen was right, it turns out, when she said I wouldn’t know the real deal if it bit me in the ass. I didn’t want real things then. I just wanted to get bit in the ass.

No. I wanted to do the biting.

*

“Okay so,” I take a deep breath. “Reason number one this will be okay and not weird at all: because Carmen is leaving tomorrow.”

“So there’s no way anything complicated can happen,” Carmen adds. “I will be OCEANS away.” She waves her hands in the air to suggest a vague and immense expanse of ocean before hopping off the couch and heading for the gold mirrored bar cart. She gestures — “May I?”

“You may,” I nod, and she starts pouring and mixing things. Manhattans, it looks like. She’d become a prolific bartender after a three-year relationship with a very fancy alcoholic.

“Two,” I continue, looking directly at my wife. “Because, Shane, we’ve been together for almost a decade and we’re happy and comfortable and have a life together that I don’t think either of us want to give up. Right?”

“Yes,” Shane squeezes me around the waist, smushing her nose against my back. G-d, she’s fucking cute. “Correct.”

“Three. Because we’ve both already failed at dating Carmen.”

“Exactly!” Carmen adds, pouring from the shaker into iced glasses. “But!” She turns around, that devilish smile again. “You have both already succeeded at fucking Carmen.”

Shane finally smiles back, even laughs a little: “That’s true.”

Carmen winks.

“That’s very true,” Shane adds.

Carmen doesn’t grab the glasses yet, instead she pauses and waits for Shane to finally let herself look Carmen right in the eye. Something quick and feverish and honest passes between them. I feel a knee-jerk jealousy try to slip out of my gut like a scrunched-up shirt I’d forgotten I still owned but I reject my anxiety: I know how to do this, now. I know how to yank it out, recognize it, fold it up, put it away.

Oh, but I remember now! Fully! How it felt to be young and scared of everything — that I wasn’t sexy or pretty or skinny or gay enough, that my outfits were stupid and that I wasn’t sure if the way I wanted to fuck was fucked up. How it felt to be with Carmen, knowing she wanted Shane and that Shane wanted her back but staying with her despite that, and how that made everything I was dealing with that year so much harder. Like everybody was just daring me to crack open, and like my skin was so thin that it just might, at any moment, unless I beat them to it. Which I guess I did.

I lean back into Shane, feel the buds of her breasts through her Wildfang tee, her spindly arms holding me still, still, still, reminding me how she can want somebody else without letting go of me. I’m not that same girl.

Carmen breaks the tension by swooping around to grab the glasses, and deliver them, and then starts fiddling with her phone to pull up a playlist as she continues — “Four, even if I wasn’t about to go back on tour in Europe and then spend half a year in Mexico with Elena who, let’s be honest, will definitely want to marry me and move here once she has the chance to spend more than a week in my presence, and even if you weren’t this gross happy domestic married power lesbian couple and even if we hadn’t already all broken each other’s hearts — EVEN IF all that wasn’t true, I don’t date white girls anymore anyhow!”

“You were her last one, Shane,” I smile, poking her in the stomach.

“Honored, truly.”

Carmen presses play and the speakers start pulsing something that sounds like Sylvan Esso.

“Jenny,” she commands, easing into an armchair. Is that my jaw dropping now, or my inhibitions.

“Carmen,” I scoot forward on Shane’s lap, clasp my palms together, my chin resting on my fingertips.

“Come here.”

I do.

I don’t have to turn around to know what Shane is doing — how she’s sinking into the couch, stretching her arms out  like a powerful man anticipating an expensive lap dance.

She’ll bite her lip, lower her eyes, sip her drink. She likes to watch me. I like to watch her too, it turns out. Only a few weeks into our relationship I’d told her I knew she was poly and I wasn’t gonna smash whatever lit her up, let’s just build something healthy first, just us two, and then make it bigger. At first she insisted she could do it, that she wanted to be faithful to me, and I told her fidelity didn’t look the same for everybody and it didn’t have to also mean monogamy and after a lot more crying and fucking she said thank you, thank you, thank you.

I’d made her go to therapy and do all the shit she needed to do and I’d been doing consistently since we wrapped Lez Girls and things started feeling untenable again.  I’ll go if you go, was a thing I said then and that we keep saying to each other, over and over, in all the years between then and now.

Heady with tequila and an urgency to fuck my fears away, I sit on top of Carmen and her hands are everywhere except exactly where I want them, she’s wet and insistent on my mouth, her kiss is bottomless and I’m lost. Her nails on my skin picking up where she’d left off, lifting my dress right off. I feel her palm against my scars but it feels safe there. My hair’s falling all over my face and she’s yanking it aside, biting my lip, my breast in her hand, her thumb and forefinger pinching as I claw back.

“Fuck it,” Shane says from another planet, which’s everywhere Carmen isn’t. We turn, practically panting. “Get into the bedroom so I can fuck you both.”

*

On Friday morning, Shane was called in to style for some re-shoots, which meant the weekend became just me and Carmen, which turned out to be just what I needed. I needed somebody who had no idea how much I was hurting and just wanted to have fun. She took me to meet her friends and we went dancing at Chico, doing shots with sweaty gay men with scratchy faces and quick feet who’d never try and touch me. We fastpassed through Disneyland with Alice, Tina and Angelica and stayed for the fireworks, wearing dumb hats, our tongues frosty from frozen lemonade.

“I don’t believe in love at first sight anymore,” Carmen told me while we drove back from Anaheim. “Like Shane? We had a connection, sure, but it was mostly a sex thing. Emotionally, I could never really get there with her. But you do. It’s really annoyingly cute, actually.”

On her last night, we’d met up with Helena and her obnoxiously hot 23-year-old girlfriend Neesha at Gracias Madre while Shane worked a Rodarte show. Neesha had sold a dramedy pilot to Hulu based on her experiences growing up trans with adoptive parents in a wealthy white suburb of San Diego. Feeling high, I asked if she wanted my company to produce it and of course she said she’d love that and so there was another round of margaritas for that.

“What about you, Jenny?” Neesha said, glass loosely in hand. “We should be celebrating you, too, and everything happening with —”

“She doesn’t know!” Carmen interrupted her.

“I’m on a media blackout,” I confirmed. “Doctor’s orders!”

“You should’ve seen Alice,” Carmen remembered. “I thought she was gonna implode all day at Disneyland.”

“Anyhow,” I raised my glass. “This is YOUR night, Neesha!”

“I am so proud of you,” Helena gushed to Neesha, practically swallowing head with her mouth.

When Helena and Neesha left to go home and fuck, Carmen and I stayed for another round of margaritas and then two or three more. I guess that’s how the threesome came up, in the end, like how so many things do: tequila.

*

In the bedroom everything gets very ardent very slowly, or, well, slowly and then quickly, like an avalanche. On our way in, Shane grabs me Are you sure this is okay? I say I promise. Shane follows my lead like she does when I’ve got two fingers inside her like a hook from my wrist to the weakness of her knees. She needs to see I’m okay to be okay too — and I am.

Everything’s slow at first, Carmen’s boyshorts rubbing against the briefs of Shane’s I’d started wearing so much that I’d eventually have to acknowledge that they were no longer Shane’s. The briefs, like fear and inhibitions, are in play only briefly.

With Carmen I always felt like two tomboys wrestling in our parent’s rec room, grass-stained rascals brave from all that Mountain Dew, our scabbed knees rough on the trackless carpet. With Shane I can be a femme fatale or demure or bratty or all of those things at once, like sometimes she lets me tie her up and sometimes I wear very expensive lingerie sets and she puts me in my place and sometimes we are very tender.

With both of them together I can be anything, and I’m swollen with potential when Carmen’s fingers shift from being flush against me to pushing me further onto the bed and then inside me, and now I’m in that space where I can follow my body and forget my mind. I raise my hips to meet her hand. one finger, two fingers, three, and then Shane gets behind her with that Mustang, her bony knees skimming my calves while Carmen screams YES like she just won something and in a way we all did.

We tumble, we fumble, there’s some wait, where do you want me, but a lot of familiarity too, like riding a bike but the bike is what we were and who we’ve become since then.

At some point I yell: “Fuck you Carmen, your ass is so hot!”

“It really is,” Shane agrees in full bedroom voice, smacking it, and Carmen gasps Oh I’m gonna get you now and this is when things start turning deliriously violent in bursts — my nails scraping the smooth plane of Carmen’s back, Shane yanking Carmen’s head with her hair in fists, leaving bite marks on my breasts, cracking the skin around my nipple. Carmen’s so beautiful, so every muscle every curve every tooth and nail and toe beautiful, but she opens up like the throat of a sword swallower, pretends she doesn’t know how pretty she is, like any of us deserve to touch her like this. There are moments, here and there, where I can catch Shane’s eyes with my eyes open and hers too, we’ll kiss like it’s our own way of breathing.

Eventually, that urge I feel for Shane to tie me to the bed with torn-up tights becomes an urge to watch Carmen fuck Shane and she does and I do. I watch them together for a good long while. I feel on fire and at peace all at once, like everything I fear and love is right there in front of me and it’s just for us, nobody else.

No, I am that same girl. But better.

That’s how I come — watching them, my hand between my own legs, and I don’t even have to close my eyes because everybody’s fantasy is right there in front of me, I mean, who are we kidding, and Shane, panting, scampers over to bite my thigh just in time. Her head lazy on my leg, I ruffle her hair. Carmen winks at me.

Later, we drink more and swim naked in the pool, and I watch Carmen wrap her legs around Shane and I watch them kiss and the moonlight is be perfect and I don’t feel anything at all besides bliss.

Then, back in the bed, winding down for sleep: “I love you guys,” I say overcome in every meaning of the word.

“I love you guys!” Carmen exclaims.

Shane just laughs at us, before rolling her eyes and admitting, “I love you guys too.”

“Okay so, Jenny,” Carmen begins. “Do you remember what you told me that morning you tried to ditch out on our ALL EXPENSES PAID CRUISE?”

“Um, go fuck Shane because I know you want to?”

“Okay, well, kinda, BUT!” Carmen smiles. “That’s not all! You said you didn’t want to go on the cruise because you were working on your project—”

“Oh G-d my terrible project!” I bury my head in my hands. “My paper dolls!”

“I’m donating those to the ONE archives, by the way—” Shane interrupted.

“You are not!” I pounded her naked chest with my fist, but Carmen is still talking —

“Listen! I remember this, I’ll never forget this. You told me that the best thing that came out of being fired by Burr Connor was understanding that you gotta tell the truth,” she says. “I’ll never forget it. You said that’s all I wanna do is just tell the fucking truth.”

“Did I say that?”

“You did.”

Shane cranes over the bed-side to pick up my iPad, and turns it on, propped up on her elbows. Carmen looks like a kid finally about to give their parents the birthday present they’d really struggled to stay quiet about.

“Now you’re doing it Jenny, and everybody else is doing it too!’

Shane pulls up instagram, first, and the #isthiswhatyouwant hashtag, specifically, and okay, fine, I won’t complain about how dumb hashtags are today.

There, she scrolls through image after image of women — queer women, it turns out, some wearing hats they’d somehow crudely affixed the words DYKE DIRECTOR to, like on a piece of paper with a safety pin. Topless, all of ‘em, fat and skinny and butch and femme and beautiful all around, masking or electric or washi tape over their nipples, words scrawled proudly over their chests: IS THIS WHAT YOU WANT. Hashtag “yes please.” Sometimes I’ll stop to read a story — all these girls, talking about all these men who’d fetishized or harassed or abused or pathologized or otherwise fucked with them sexually in a way that felt was or a certain way because they were queer. My lesbian life is not your artistic journey, one very angry girl had written in the middle of a very intense saga that would make a good miniseries. All of it feels both a little silly and desperately important, monumental even. I keep looking down at the pictures and then up at my wife and over at my friend, my dear friend whose come is all over my hand.

“Max’s boyfriend tracked down the source of the photos,” Shane relays insistently. “And Helena has ensured nothing else from those videos will see the light of day. And Mark’s been fired from the movie he was directing and I promise you, Mark and Gomey are never getting another job in this town, Jenny.”

“Also,” Carmen says. “We just had a threesome!”

“Wow!” I bury my head the comforter. “Ugh! It feels good, doesn’t it?” I set the tablet down and, to Shane: “It feels good that… it feels good that neither of us will ever run into him on another set, at another party —”

“It does,” Shane nods. “It really does.”

“It feels good that we did this, too” I smack their bare backs at the same time. “The oft-proposed —”

“By you,” Carmen adds, “I must remind you that it was you trying to initiate a threesome on the ship.”

“Well,” Shane says, “and Mark. Mark was very very into the idea that we could be a uh, you know—”

“A triad,” I finished. “For some crazy reason who knows what it was,” I laugh at myself, at all of us, at every woman foolish enough to believe a man with a handycam, “Mark was very curious about why we didn’t shut the whole love triangle down and just have a threesome.”

“Well, I’m glad we waited to follow his astute advice,” Carmen smiles. “Fuck that guy.”

I swear Carmen’s eyes truly twinkle sometimes. “Fuck Mark.”

*

Not enough hours later:

Hey, Jen, no pressure — but do you wanna do the interview today?

I close my eyes, think on it. Feel Shane breathing beside me.

Finally: I’ll go if you go?

We go.

30 Days of Carol: Day 19 – The Best Lines from “Carol” Fanfic

When I posted the first three pages of Carol: Tokyo Drift, the immediate and main concern was that I investigate what happened in the hotel room where Carol and Therese camped out for two days. My approach of leaving things to the imagination was given a thanks, but no thanks. “Loved this, but also what if you didn’t talk any more about the stuff that’s been happening, like at all, and go back to those two days. It would be cool if we knew what happened, since you’ve now mentioned both hotels and hotel damage security deposits. Just one thought as a reader.” – ALL OF YOU.

Your thirst for erotica was noted. Honestly? I love that about you. However, I’m not about to write erotica, so I’ve instead collected the subjectively best Carol fanfic lines I could find on the internet. Please enjoy.

From “50 Shades of Carol”

“OW!” [Therese] shrieked. “That hurts.”

Carol looked up, and this time registered how tight Therese was. Two fingers barely fit and caused pain…

From “Carol Movie, The Prince of Salt”

“My sweet girl,” she said and kissed her. Then Carol grabbed Therese’s hand, fingers still inside her and said, “You’re doing wonderfully. Please, don’t stop.”

…

Suddenly, Carol’s body seized and shook — her lips on Therese’s right cheek where she let out a moan in a pitch Therese had never heard before. A tone so beautiful, Therese thought she might as well have been listening to a full string quartet.

From “Surprise!”

“I never told you, but I sometimes pictured you as a hot nurse coming into the room and taking care of an old lady like myself. This was so amazing, I love you so much darling.”

From “Surprise! (The Next Chapter)”

Therese blushed when she heard those sexy words being whispered in her ear with that incredibly velvety voice of her lover. Just a few dirty words were always enough for the brunette to get incredibly turned on and horny. She did have some positions in mind that they didn’t use very often but that she always enjoyed to the maximum.

…

(Therese in a nurse’s outfit) “Mrs. [Aird], I’m so glad to see you. I heard from my colleague that you’ve been a bit ill the past few days, and I’ll be taking good care of you.” Carol couldn’t speak, she was stunned at the boldness of the younger girl. She had been feeling a bit under the weather lately, and she was happy to let Therese take care of her. She could only nod in response, and swallowed hard as the younger girl walked up to her.

“Follow me, please.” Therese whispered hotly into Carol’s ear and she could feel the older woman shiver. She was completely submerged into her role now, and she wasn’t going to back down. Oh, she’d take care of Carol alright.

From “Shameless”

[Carol] pounced, actually pounced on me, grinding her hips down into mine, kissing up my neck and biting on my jaw. “… And I can’t wait any longer.’

“Jesus Christ.”

“Oh please. Carol will do.”

From “Therese’s Fantasy”

“Damn, baby. I’m sad that I missed being able to watch all of that masturbating.”

From “Duyên”

…

“I went to eat with a friend, spent most of my afternoon with her. Now I’m taking a bath.”

“No wonder why you sound so relaxed.” There was a pregnant pause. “Hold on, a bath or a bath?”

Carol’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion until the meaning of Therese’s words clicked in her brain. “Just a bath, though you can never tell with these things.” Her voice had lowered to a whisper.

“Think about me if it turns into the other,” she said unabashedly, nevertheless, she knew she was blushing, feeling nervous because there was still a chance, even if minimum, of rejection.

Carol bit her lower lip, feeling a pang of arousal in her belly. “I need visual stimulation, you know.”

…

Throwing her head back, Carol laughed richly. A contagious laugh that made Therese laugh too. “Are you seeking for praising, angel?” she raised an eyebrow, an amused smile as the remains of her previous laugh.

“No, I don’t actually need it.” She kissed her. “I also have proof of that with all your moaning.”

From “Chemistry”

She could feel Cate’s soft breathing underneath her hand as it went up her stomach and reached close to her breasts. She wanted to go even further, but she was afraid it would wake up the blonde. So, she lowered her hand but she could feel the other woman’s hand covering her own suddenly. She panicked; had Cate felt her hand coming close to her breasts?

“Roons … don’t stop please. It feels so good.”

…

“Are you enjoying the view darling? You’re in for a treat, babe.” Cate winked, and then slowly pulled down her thong.

From “What a Bold Girl You Are”

Wrapping her arms around Therese’s bottom, Carol effortlessly stood and, while carrying Therese, walked to Therese’s desk to sit Therese down on the desktop and position herself between Therese’s legs. Carol looked up to meet Therese’s eyes. “My, what a bold girl you are.”

From “Little Death”

“And now, we’re lovers?” Therese panted and brought her hand up to clutch at Carol’s neck, to pull her pretty face down closer to her own until their foreheads touched as they rode each other and the entire world became their eyes.

“Yes, I suppose we are. Although really I think we always have been. Don’t you?”

“Yes,” Therese whispered and closed her eyes against the light but continued to feel it on her eyelids and even on her lips as she smiled. “I do.”

From “Emergency”

Carol grinned, and was just reaching out her other hand to weave her fingers into Therese’s hair when her portable phone rang. “Shhhhh…” Carol whispered, and grabbed the phone from her pocket.

“Hello? Dr. Aird here,” Carol said, holding the phone with her left hand while still handling Therese’s crotch with her right. Therese stared at her, stunned by her uncontrollable lust for Carol, whose fingers and thumb were still gently moving between her legs. “Mmm-hmmm, okay, so what did the resident say?” Carol continued talking as if nothing was amiss. “Alright, I’ll come talk to them. Maybe we can discharge the man home for now and set up a referral. Okay, bye.”

Carol put her phone back in her pocket and released her grip on Therese. “Duty calls, babe,” she said casually.

From “For There She Was”

Cate gently pushed her on the bed and crawled over her. She started kissing her neck and biting her jaw. Rooney was already finding it hard to breathe normally. She hadn’t completely realized what was happening yet. It was like being in a dream in which you see something happen to you but you know it can’t be real. But the woman moving over her was real. Her hot skin under her hands was real. Her wet lips on her mouth were real. Her wonderful perfume pervading the place was real. It was really happening. She was truly in bed with Cate Blanchett.

…

After they both reached something that was dangerously close to heaven, under the work of each other’s tongue and fingers, they were lying in bed trying to catch their breath.

“My God, that was…” Rooney said stunned, slightly panting. She couldn’t even find the appropriate words to describe what she had felt in those moments.

“I know…” Cate replied a bit incredulous, too. “Have you ever… I mean, before me… have you…?”

“No, never…”

“Then, my dear, you have a natural talent for this” she said smiling slyly.

Rooney smiled embarrassed.

“But tell me…” Cate added, kissing her softly “Am I a better kisser than Catherine Zeta-Jones?”

Toward an Understanding of Whether Straight Fanfiction Exists: A Study

(featured image via Shutterstock)

Sitting on the patio of a neighborhood cafe-bar where freelancers nurse coffees until happy hour hits and they finally give up on the tedium of the gig economy and order a beer, I turned to my girlfriend and read her an excerpt from an article on trademark law’s implications on fandom and fanfiction. The article, written by my lawyer aunt, astutely pointed out that if the internet had been around when Sir Arthur Conan Doyle was still penning Sherlock Holmes stories, impassioned fans would no doubt write fanfiction shipping the original Sherlock and Watson. At this point, my girlfriend turned to me, astonishment in her eyes, and asked: “Wait, does straight fanfiction exist?”

My girlfriend is not an internet person. I’ve had to explain many things to her over the years: tumblr, subtweeting, Mariah Carey famously saying “I don’t know her” re: Jennifer Lopez, and sliding into DMs — a concept that she always contextualizes as “how Sarah Paulson and Holland Taylor started dating.” My influence has no doubt affected her perception of pop culture. I’m pretty sure she thinks Scandal is a television show about the love story of Mellie Grant and Olivia Pope, probably because that’s what I’ve said it’s about. Eventually, she figured out that when I say a show is “super queer,” she should have me clarify whether it’s actually queer or if I’m just providing my own interpretation based on unfulfilled subtext. Still, this latest reveal that she briefly thought fanfiction was a queer utopia came as a bit of a shock. But how could she have known? Her exposure to fanfiction has been limited to me reading passages out loud about all my wlw ships. (She’s going to ask me what wlw means when she reads this.)

As I began to explain that straight fanfiction does indeed exist, I realized that it was a bit like me trying to explain the Eiffel Tower, or Antarctica, or the movie La La Land: I know these things to be real, but I’ve never seen them for myself.

I came to fanfiction late in life. It’s perhaps the only facet of fandom I didn’t throw myself into when I first became a certified Internet Person in 2004. Back then, I frequented the WB (RIP) message boards, participating in roleplaying communities for Charmed, Smallville, and Gilmore Girls (my username was PiprLoreleiClark). But for some reason, fanfiction remained on the periphery of my fandom experience. I think a large part of my fanfiction ignorance was the fact that I obsessed over shows, books, and movies so much that I actually wanted to be a part of the story. Fanfiction allows fans to create, to add to, to subvert and challenge the narratives they derive from. I wanted to insert myself into the narrative quite literally, as evidenced by the not-quite-fanfiction I wrote in my composition notebook in elementary school in which I was the quirky best friend to Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen as the detective characters from their serialized book series. This tendency to cast fictional characters as my imaginary best friends continued well into my early teens, when I would daydream elaborate adventures shared between me, Dr. Gregory House, and Dr. Lisa Cuddy. These daydreams became a chaotic labyrinth of crossovers. Cuddy and I would link up with Jean Grey and Sydney Bristow and maybe even a Desperate Housewife or two to save the world.

I’ve since learned there’s a term for the narcissistic fanfiction narratives I dreamt up as a youth: self-insert fic. But self-insert fic seems largely to be a very private endeavor. Because frankly, who cares? Fanfiction is democratic; it’s communal; it’s more widely appealing to people than the tales of Kayla Kumari Upadhyaya and Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen.

It was during my senior year of college that I finally said the words “I’m a lesbian” out loud. Around that time, I also started realizing The Media, and television specifically, played a huge role in suppressing my queerness. My life revolved around television, but I rarely saw lesbians on TV. There were even fewer non-white lesbians. Finally, I saw the power of fanfiction. There were stories out there where the queer subtext could finally be realized! There were stories out there that acknowledged the fluidity of sexuality that television often ignores! There were stories out there where the lesbians who television killed were still alive.

Like the true millennial I am, I first turned to Harry Potter fanfiction, where I was met with the plethora of Hermione/Ginny (sorry!) stories I craved. One of the best ones I ever read featured a bisexual Ginny who was a powerful witch and lawyer?! Eventually, I branched out into Hunger Games and The Vampire Diaries and The Good Wife fanfiction. I read Glee fanfiction long after I stopped watching Glee.

I still remained a pretty casual consumer of fanfiction, mostly because I didn’t really know where to find the good stuff, and there was only so much I could take of the really poorly written shit that switches tenses with no explanation and goes out of its way to avoid calling the characters by their names (seriously, what is up with this fanfiction writer tic?!). Luckily, my friend Mariah entered my life — fittingly, at Comic-Con. A connoisseur of fanfiction, Mariah is my official Fic Librarian. Without her, I’d be lost in a sea of passive voice usage and comma splices. (The only time my requests have ever stumped her was when I was sought Rachel/Quinn UnREAL fanfiction. Unfortunately, they share the names of a rather popular Glee pairing.)

Throughout my fanfiction journey, I was never exposed to the “straight” fanfiction my girlfriend apparently does not believe in. The closest I came was probably the time I procrastinated from studying for my Econ exam by reading a 52-chapter The West Wing fic told from the perspective of a goldfish (I should note here that I have never seen The West Wing). For me, fanfiction always served one clear purpose: providing me with the queer narratives mainstream pop culture insufficiently provided. I understand that there is fanfiction that doesn’t center queerness and that there’s even fanfiction that doesn’t revolve around ships at all. But that’s not what I’m here for.

So my girlfriend’s question remains: Does straight fanfiction exist? I was more than willing to adopt her willful ignorance and just proceed with life as if it did not. But the headline of this article promises a study, and I do not break my promises when it comes to internet detective work. First, I hit up the Fic Librarian herself, who is also my token straight friend, but she quickly saw through my questions and pointed out that just because she’s straight does not mean she mostly reads fanfiction about straights. She has a point. She also did not want me exposing some of her more embarrassing fanfiction interests, but she wished me good luck on my foray into the world of hetero fic. I would have to take this journey solo.

First, like the prestigious investigator that I am, I Googled “heterosexual fanfiction.” One of the top results is a Supernatural fic called “Dean Winchester is a 100 Heterosexual, Manly Man of Masculinity.” Unsurprisingly, the title is ironic. Dean falls in love with a man, as he tends to do in 90% of Supernatural fanfiction. Even Google doesn’t seem to believe straight fanfiction exists. To find what I was looking for, I’d have to think like a straight person. So I sat down and challenged myself to think about what the straightest ship ever might be. Then it hit me: Jack Donaghy and Liz Lemon.

Friends, perhaps you are hoping for some particularly outrageous excerpts from the mentally scarring Jack/Liz 30 Rock fanfiction I found myself drowning in on the darkest parts of the world wide web. To which I say: You will have to look it up yourself. I cannot bring myself to republish these atrocities. I realize that this is turning out to be a pretty bad study, but I also feel like I’m doing you a favor.

Straight fanfiction is stylistically very similar to my beloved queer fanfiction. The sex scenes are similarly overwritten and detailed to the point where they almost read like furniture assembly instructions. Straight fanfiction can be raunchy and absurd and funny (sometimes intentionally) and immersive, just like the fanfiction I read. The biggest difference I found between straight and queer fanfiction is that the former tends to build on canon ships more often than not. With a few exceptions, I’m used to reading slash fics and ones in which the queer subtext of the original work becomes fully realized. The vast majority of fanfiction I found about heterosexual pairings built on canon relationships, like Leslie Knope and Ben Wyatt from Parks And Recreation or Will Gardner and Alicia Florrick from The Good Wife. Sure, there was a fair share of non-canon shipping going on in the straight fanfiction community, too, like Glee‘s “Schueberry” (yikes!), Hermione/Snape (double yikes!), and probably some that aren’t problematic teacher/student pairings, although those certainly stood out (perhaps I am being hypocritical given that I read a lot of fanfiction about a certain ship that rhymes with “proctor satanic”).

Another interesting thing I noticed is that when it comes to shows that are popular among queer women because of a particular ship — canon or not — the queer fanfiction far outnumbers fanfiction about the canon heterosexual pairings. For example, in the world of Supergirl fanfiction, Kara/Lena fics significantly outnumber Kara/Mon-El fics. Even though Kara/Lena fanfiction writers are building on real sentiments and moments from the show, turning the subtext into bold text, there’s an element of wishful thinking at play. Those of us who can see the obvious chemistry between Kara and Lena don’t trust the show to bring that tension to fruition, so we turn to a place where it can. Fans of Kara/Mon-El get enough overtly romantic moments between the two on the show to be more satisfied. Even I switched from Alex/Maggie fanfiction to Kara/Lena fanfiction after Alex and Maggie became a legit couple on the show (though I sometimes return to the Alex/Maggie stuff because their scenes have becoming increasingly sparse). Fanfiction fills the gaps in representation. If people don’t see themselves reflected in a show, they can turn to fanfiction, much like I quite literally added myself to the story with my active imagination as a teen.

As with any medium, there is plenty of aggressively heteronormative fanfiction out there. Far worse than the grammatically challenged stories, there’s also plenty of racist, sexist, homophobic, and ableist fanfiction out there. If you’re not good at finding the good stuff, I highly recommend finding yourself a Fic Librarian. After a few hours of digging through fanfiction in which two women don’t even so much as make meaningful eye contact, I’d had enough. I much prefer my queer utopia of fanfiction, where bisexual Ginny Weasley kicks ass in magical court and Lexa lives long enough to build a house for Clarke and Alicia Florrick leaves her husband for Kalinda Sharma. Straight fanfiction might technically exist, but to quote Mariah Carey, I don’t know her.

Every Jane Austen Novel If They Were Gay and Also Historically Inaccurate

graphics by Heather Hogan!

Northanger Abbey

northanger-abbey

When naive, bookish, kind of goth tomboy Catherine goes on vacation to Bath with her family friends, she’s psyched to immediately meet Helena Tilney, who is cool and interesting and also loves books and knows all the good parties in town. Through her friend Isabella, Catherine also meets Joanna, who is sort of fun but also has auditioned twice to be on Bad Girls Club and really thinks the third time is gonna be the charm. As the summer progresses, Catherine watches Isabella break hearts all over Bath, while trying to avoid the increasingly exhausting attentions of Joanna and also getting weirdly into her beloved true crime novels. Catherine finally turns down Joanna, who does not take it well and vows to talk shit about her to all their acquaintances, and alienates Helena when she gets tired of Catherine’s true-crime-fueled suspicions that everyone around them is an axe murderer, which are really weirding out Helena and her whole family. Dejected, Catherine begins the journey home after Joanna turns pretty much everyone in Bath against her — before Helena catches up with her and says she’s sorry, she loves Catherine even if she is a morbid weirdo, and that they can make collages of The Craft and Wednesday Addams together. They live happily ever after and throw really good Halloween parties.

Sense and Sensibility

sense-sensibility

Unmarried sisters Marianne and Elinor take to the countryside, having lost the favor of their wealthier brother and his sister-in-law. There, Marianne meets Brandalynn, a country gentlewoman who enjoys cigars and complicated cocktails, but spurns her because she thinks Brandalynn’s too old for her and that her successful career as a large animal vet is unbecoming. Instead, Marianne is drawn to Wenda, a dashing and urbane young woman with the most fashionable of undercuts, who she meets while on a walk and who woos her with smoldering harpsichord ballads that she writes herself in the style of Chris Pureka. In the meantime, Elinor is getting closer to the enigmatic Edwina, who she’s super into until she finds out that she’s still living with her ex, Lucy Steele, who she doesn’t have feelings for anymore but they share a dog and their apartment is rent-controlled and if Edwina moved out Lucy would probably have to move back in with her mom, and Lucy’s mom is a total bitch. Marianne’s heart is broken when Wenda ghosts and moves to Portland to become a craft brewer, but decides to give Brandalynn another shot when she sees her on Tinder and finds that actually they really click. Edwina is suddenly single when Lucy moves out because she’s met an up-and-coming fashionplate model, and she and Elinor are finally able to make it work.

Pride and Prejudice

pride-prejudice

Elizabeth Bennet lives out in the country with her parents and four sisters, of whom she is closest to the oldest, Jane. Their world is turned upside down by the arrival of wealthy bachelorettes and close friends Ms. Charlene Bingley and Ms. Fiona Darcy. Charlene and Jane hit it off immediately, bonding over being generally very kind and good-looking and a little bit boring. Unfortunately Fiona is a stuck-up monster, and Elizabeth is annoyed she has to put up with her if she wants to hang out with Jane and Charlene. As they keep bumping into each other at social gatherings, Elizabeth begins to realize that Fiona is more just kind of awkward than a jerk, but still isn’t a huge fan. Then, when Elizabeth’s younger sister Lydia gets a really ill-advised courthouse wedding with her annoying on-again-off-again girlfriend without consulting anyone first in the heady rush of the recent same-sex marriage legalization, Fiona, surprisingly, steps in to utilize her degree in family law to help them quickly negotiate a legal separation the next day with a minimum of drama. Fiona also confesses her love to Elizabeth, and says that being a total weirdo is just how she lets girls know she’s interested. Although she’s initially skeptical, Elizabeth is eventually won over by how Fiona helped Lydia, and also her sweet vinyl collection. Eventually, the two have a small ceremony on Lake Michigan the weekend after Charlene and Jane’s extremely Pinteresting treehouse wedding.

Mansfield Park

mansfield-park

Insufferable uptight raw vegan Fanny Price has been raised by her rich aunt and uncle, because her immediate family is poor and does not have the money for the Vitamix and fruit dehydrator she requires. Fanny hates all of the relatives who are housing and feeding her except for Ellen, who is very polite and likes to help Fanny make crackers out of leftover juice pulp. Fanny actually thinks she has feelings for Ellen, which is weird because they’re cousins but pretty normal in the Regency era, I guess. Hot upper-crust sisters Hazel and Mary move into town, and Mary immediately locks her sights on Ellen while flirtatious Hazel begins breaking hearts left and right. Mary is a little disappointed that Ellen’s only aspiration in life is to be a sustainable urban farmer, and works on convincing her to aim higher, like starting her own line of high-end ethically sourced cotton underskirts. Hazel gets bored of partying and decides to emotionally manipulate Fanny’s heart, but it backfires when she finds that Fanny is so emotionally unavailable and aloof that Hazel ends up obsessed with her. Ellen realizes that Mary never truly saw her and her zucchini plants for her, and just wanted to be trendy; Hazel goes on an incredible tear of two-week-long relationships to rebound from Fanny, confirming Fanny’s suspicions that she dodged a bullet. Fanny and Ellen are left free to consummate their boring and gluten-free love, even though they are, again, first cousins, because that was a normal thing to do, apparently.

Emma

emma

Emma had a ton of fun at her friends’ recent wedding, and tells her best friend Georgia Knightley that she’s going to make sure their whole circle of friends is paired up by the end of the year so she can keep going to parties with open bars. Georgia points out, correctly, that this is a terrible idea, but Emma won’t hear it. First, she persuades her friend Harriet to stop seeing Rita, who she’s been on three dates with and is super into, because Rita isn’t marriage material. She tries to set Harriet up with Philippa, who is a rising star in the Regency-era social sphere, but Philippa fashionably elopes with Augusta instead. Hot new it girl Jane Fairfax crops up in their social circle, and Georgia thinks Jane’s going to start dating Frances, but Emma is too focused on being weirdly jealous of Jane to agree. Philippa is being a huge bitch to Harriet, who is already sad that Emma convinced her to stop seeing Rita for what turned out to be a terrible reason, so Georgia steps up and starts hanging out with Harriet a lot more. Georgia turns out to have, again, been right, and Jane and Frances have a whirlwind romance and are super in love. Surrounded by romance, Harriet confesses to Emma that she’s fallen for Georgia after Georgia was such a good friend during her recent rough times; upon hearing this, Emma realizes that she actually has feelings for Georgia, which is a super cold thing to do to Harriet but makes sense because Georgia has been right about everything since page one. Emma tells Georgia how she feels, and Georgia is like duh, you idiot, and asks her out. They’re grossly cute and happy. And! Harriet is able to get back together with Rita, finally. Jane and Emma even manage to make up, and Emma learns an important lesson about chilling out a little.

Persuasion

persuasion

Anne and Faye dated for like five minutes in school, a fact which most people don’t know because it was so brief, but which Anne still kinda thinks about sometimes. They haven’t seen each other in years when Anne’s family moves into Faye’s neighborhood because they’ve taken a financial hit. Anne goes with Faye, her sisters and a few friends on a beach vacation, where Anne attracts the attention of local rich hottie Willa Elliot. Seeing this, as well as how much of a babe Anne is hanging out on the beach, Faye remembers why she liked Anne back in the day. After the beach weekend, Willa continues to flirt with Anne, although Anne is a little weirded out that Willa doesn’t seem to have any other friends, or any social media accounts, and still uses hotmail. Shockingly, an acquaintance reveals that Willa’s interest in Anne is likely more opportunistic than romantic, for financial reasons that mostly involve primogeniture laws and therefore do not translate very well to f/f storylines. When Anne writes an impassioned and typo-ridden screed on Instagram about the importance of only keeping people around you that you can trust to be real with you, Faye realizes in the twenty minutes before Anne deletes it how much Anne really means to her, and sends her a DM to tell her so. The two of them get brunch the next morning and agree to see where this goes, keep it casual, before adopting three rescue cats together and moving into a tiny house.

Fan Fiction Friday: I Want To Believe In “The X-Files” Femslash

It’s time, at last, for the return of The X-Files, which means I can finally share with you some fan fictions I’ve had bookmarked for about a hundred thousand years. The X-Files is the second most important TV show ever (after Star Trek, of course) when it comes to the genesis of online fandom. It started all the way back in 1993, when the internet was just a tiny little baby, with Usenet newsgrous, mailing lists, and fan sites like Ephemeral and Gossamer. The X-Files fans were some of the first folks to make the leap to LiveJournal in the early aughts, and also some of the first fans to begin using LiveJournal as a host for single-user fan fiction.

The X-Files also takes credit for being the fandom that actually created shipping! Even in those early days, the internet was strongly divided between NoRoMos (fans who didn’t want the show to focus on the romance between Mulder and Scully) and Shippers.

It’s crazy to think about this now, but in the mid-90s, Fox actually threatened to sue fansites for using images and audio clips from the show. “Foxed” is the word fansites used when they referred to having legal action taken against them. Now, of course, networks want their images and video clips everywhere, and they hire entire PR teams to make sure their chacters’ faces are spread as widely as possible across every social media platform.

I love thinking and talking about fandom from 20 years ago because it also makes me think about how obsolete our way of doing fandom will look when we gaze back on it with the gift of time. For example, please enjoy this still-standing NoRoMo fan site called The NoRoMo Defense Guide. I hope I’m still alive when Tumblr looks this antiquated to us all.

Fan Fiction Friday: Monica Reyes and Dana Scully

Blah blah Mulder and Scully. I’m all about Monica and Scully. Here are seven reasons why.

x-files

The Dedication by dhamphir

Pairing: Monica Reyes/Dana Scully
Plot: “Will a chance meeting, five years after Scully and Mulder went on the run, change anything?”
Length: 3,400 words

complexity by beepollenkick

Pairing: Monica Reyes/Dana Scully
Plot: Scully can’t fight that (lesbian) feeling anymore.
Length: 2,800 words

How Monica Reyes Stole Christmas by Adrian D. Ives

Pairing: Monica Reyes/Dana Scully
Plot: Rated M for Mature. A Mature Scully/Reyes Christmas, and that’s all you need to know.
Length: 5,000 words

Jello Shots by Ann

Pairing: Monica Reyes/Dana Scully
Plot: Just two girls, a hotel bar, and some red Jello.
Length: 1,000 words

Karma by Celievamp

Pairing: Monica Reyes/Dana Scully
Plot: Some karmic numbers lead Scully and Monica to a deeper exploration of their relationship.
Length: 3,000 words

With Wishes for A Happy New Year by ocean gazer

Pairing: Monica Reyes/Dana Scully
Plot: Okay, but what if Scully HADN’T gone with Mulder at the end of the series?
Length: 7,300 words

The Genesis Series by Radclyffe

Pairing: Dana Scully/OFC
Plot: A whole series for you, a femslash feast. This one’s a classic. I think it’s on everyone’s list of best X-Files lesbian fic.
Length: Many, many, many words. All of them delightful.

Listening to the news! Again?

Fandom in the news and around the world this month.

+ Here’s a fun article from The Week about how The X-Files gave birth to “obsessive fandom.” It stats out skeptical, but ends up drawing a very logical line from fan culture to top-notch TV criticism.

But zealous and dogged and occasionally irrational as it may be, it’s that same level of passion that created the boom in top-notch TV criticism today. Numerous early reviews of the new X-Files episodes have included sheepish disclaimers from critics who originally cut their teeth as X-Files fans, eager to analyze a show that actually seemed to reward those who took the time to scrutinize every episode. The X-Files may be an elder statesman in the TV landscape, but there’s one thing you can count on: When you log on after Sunday night’s episode, you’ll find thousands of fans eager to pore over every frame of it.

+ George R.R. Martin is feuding with fan fiction writers again, I guess.

+ I am of the firm opinion that Dumbledore’s gayness is as influential and relevant as an after-book reveal as it would have been inside the Harry Potter books (and anyway, it would have given away the entire plot of the last book if J.K. Rowling had revealed it earlier; and plus we didn’t know anything about any of the professors’ love lives; and plus also Harry — our narrator! — didn’t even know Ron and Hermione were infatuated with each), but some people disagree. Salon has a hot take about Dumbledore and Luke Skywalker and Captain Jack Sparrow, and a little bit of commentary into how fan fiction always knew they were gay.

+ Some Star Trek fans tried to make a crowdfunded fan film. Obviously, they got sued.

+ Star Wars: A Wookie Cookie Bookie is a beautiful kind of fan fiction.

+ I never stop loving it when local newspapers write about fandom. Here’s the Philly Voice asking: What Is Slash Fiction?

Well, there’s different ways of answering that question. Why do women fans write slash fiction that focuses on same-sex relationships? The answer I’ve gotten from authors I’ve spoken to, the most interesting response I’ve gotten is that writing slash fiction is a chance for women to author male sexuality. They enjoy the creative experience of authoring male sexuality. And fan fiction, generally, there are a lot of men who write fan fiction, but I think most indications we have is it’s mostly women writing a lot of fan fiction. It seems to appeal to female fans in particular.

+ Entertainment Weekly hosted a fan fiction competition earlier this month. It went about as well as you would have expected if you actually knew anything about fandom and how hard they work not to be derided and exploited.

I’ll be back next month with some answers to your TV questions and a really exciting interview with someone who works on your favorite web series. Have a very Scully weekend, my friends!

Fan Fiction Friday: You’re Getting Clexa For Christmas

The holiday season always makes me think of fan fiction because the first multi-chaptered fan fiction I ever wrote was about my two favorite queer TV characters, Helen and Nikki from the UK primetime soap Bad Girls, getting married at Christmastime. It’s impossible to draw a straight line through our pasts to determine how we got to where we are at this very moment in time on this whirling planet — life is a spiderweb of little decisions leading in a billion different directions — but I can say without a second of hesitation that writing that fan fiction was the catalyst that led me to pursuing nearly every good thing I have in my life today.

The story was called “What God Has Brought Together (And All That)” and writing it allowed me to explore so many things I was feeling in my head and heart, in a safe way, with characters I already loved. Hyper-religious upbringing? Check. Terror of coming out to family? Check. Desire to settle down and create a home with a woman? Check. Just plain old sexual desire? Check, check. I worked out more of my own stuff in that story than I did in the years of therapy leading up to me writing it. I made a dear friend in the forum where I posted the story, a dear friend who would ultimately go on to save my life. And I gained confidence and skill as a writer by posting the story and engaging with the feedback people left me.

Not long after I finished it, I quit my office job, packed a backpack, flew to Europe, saw the world, and came home to pursue my dream of being a real writer.

What I didn’t know back then was that I already was a real writer. No, my story wasn’t great. No, I wasn’t getting paid for it. Probably only about twenty people read it, and I got in trouble by the forum admins all the time for misspelling things and getting all my British stuff super wrong. I was a writer because I was writing, simple as that.

This month, I asked five TV writers who work on shows with queer female characters to answer one question for me: Does lesbian fandom have any effect on what we ultimately see on our TV screens? Three of them said yes; two of them said no. As I thought through their answers, again and again, I finally decided the no’s don’t really matter to me. Eight years into doing this job, I somehow arrived at this idea that “visible endgame” is the ultimate fandom goal. (Maybe that’s because people yell at me the most about that on Twitter.) But as I think back over my own experiences, I realize that creatively engaging with queer stories in queer communities, however we see fit, is the ultimate fandom goal.

So many of the best things in my life — this career and the precious woman asleep beside me in bed right now and most of my best friends and my ability to think critically about the media and messages I consume — are rooted in fandom. Most of them can be traced back to the very first fan fiction I published. Albus Dumbledore was always right: “Words are, in my not so humble opinion, our most inexhaustible source of magic.” Always: “Of course it’s happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?”

People often ask to read my first fan fiction and I just blush and say no, but it’s Christmas, and so here it is. I’ve come a long way as a writer, but I’ll always be proud of these fledgling words. I grimace when I reread them, but I always reread them at Christmas.

This month, I’ve got some Clexa fics for you because the new trailer for The 100 got me hyped; plus, a fan fiction news round-up; and answers to some TV questions you asked me.

Fan Fiction Friday: One Fish, Two Fish, Golden Retriever Goldfish

clexa

they take their shots but we’re bulletproof by nightshifted

Pairing: Clarke/Lexa, The 100
Plot: Delicious angst and longing, friends.
Length: 10,000 words

You See the Smile That’s On My Mouth (it’s hiding the words that don’t come out) by heartshapedcandy

Pairing: Clarke/Lexa, The 100
Plot: Clarke and Lexa smooch a lot and talk about their feelings a little.
Length: 48,000 words

fearless. by lordvoldyfarts

Pairing: Clarke/Lexa, The 100
Plot: Obligatory Clexa roadtrip AU.
Length: 30,000 words

Understanding by AbsorbingMisery, LilianaFox

Pairing: Clarke/Lexa, The 100
Plot: 100,000 words of pain and feelings!
Length: 118,000 words

Forged in War by RavenclawGenius

Pairing: Clarke/Lexa, The 100
Plot: Lexa loves Clarke and she’s going to wait and wait and wait until Clarke realizes she loves her back.
Length: 43,000 words

Listening to the news! Again?

Fandom in the news and around the world this month.

+ RocketJump hopes fan fiction can make geek culture less sexist. Their new web series boasts an episode called “Fan Friction,” in which “two proud geeky girls write a story combining their favorite fandoms.” From the series creator:

I really want to feature female stories in all of my work. The opportunity to have a story about two female characters and their friendship was really important, particularly because in geek and nerd culture there’s a lot of hostility towards women historically. So it was an important and deliberate choice to make it two female characters. The goal with the short was to make it a love letter to female fans of nerdy stuff. Ideally that will make them feel included into a world where they are often excluded from.

+ Anna Todd is creating her own empire! This girl wrote a One Direction-inspired fan fiction that sold for six figures and she got to keep her work on Wattpad.

Todd rose to fame through the online publishing site Wattpad, which allowed her to self-publish her story — a romantic tale between a Harry Styles-inspired bad boy and a sweet college girl — one chapter at a time online, and interact with Wattpad’s 40 million users who left comments to help her shape the next chapters. After her body of work hit more than 800 million reads in summer 2014, Simon & Schuster’s Gallery Books won a bidding war for the publishing rights in a mid-six-figure deal.

+ Over at The Mary Sue, a series of interviews with fandom writers and artists: “Fanfiction and Fanart: The World Beyond Fifty Shades of Grey.”

Even with a modicum of acceptance, though, most fan creators find it hard to shake the eyerolls or even downright offensive commentary. With this new wave of legitimacy, I wanted to talk to leaders in the fanfic and fanart worlds to get a better sense of what inspired them to create, how they feel about the higher profile, and how they see their work being devalued—not just in the media but from within the assumed safe space of fandom.

Owl Post

A handful of answer to a handful of TV/movie questions.

Heather, what the hell! Carol was even better than you said it was going to be! How are we ever going to go back to mediocre representation after this? 

I think about this like five times a day! And I’ll tell you, friend. I’m not going back. Carol, Freeheld, Grandma, Tangerine: All in theaters in a single year. Three of those films racking up awards. Like. Annalise Keating is queer now, okay. Viola Davis is playing a bisexual character on a female-fronted show on ABC’s most watched night of television. Person of Interest is gladly going there with Root and Shaw, on CBS. Two now-queer characters exploring a relationship, even though they weren’t intended to be queer form the outset. They’re going there because their chemistry is so good and because lesbian and bisexual women are NORMAL. I’m not going back to the way the world was before this year. I just refuse to do it.

Do you know who dies in PLL 6B? I’ve heard some rumors and you seem really dejected about the coming season, which makes me think the rumors are true. 

I do know who dies, yes. I think you know too. You seem to know. And yes, I am dejected. Let’s talk it out once the 6B premiere airs and figure out what to do together, yeah?

What were your favorite TV shows that didn’t have queer women in them in 2015, HH? 

Awesome question! Supergirl, Master of None, Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt, The Great British Bake Off, Mad Men, Parks and Recreation, and BoJack Horseman.

Help! I have three weeks off from school and I don’t know what to marathon on Netflix. I’m so far behind on every show with lesbian characters. 

I’ve got some good news for you: Riese made you a list!

I have finally had it with Once Upon a Time, Hogan. I can’t do it anymore. Help me. Help me get out of here. 

I’m sorry OUAT broke your heart. I understand. I have had my heart broken by TV much more than I have had my heart broken by actual human beings. But look, it’s 2015! There are more canonically queer female characters/relationships on TV than ever before. What you need to do is get yourself back out there into the world and watch some other things, see what you connect with, see what captures your heart and imagination; then, you can dig into those fandoms and find a new home. I’m going to suggest Person of Interest to you. I believe that is a very good start toward healing your heart.

Can you suggest a show similar to Defiance that I might like? I’m really sad it was cancelled but I’ve never been into sci-fi and I don’t really know where to start. I like Buffy. 

Oh! Firefly, then. Firefly is the next logical step for you. Hit me up when you’re finished and I’ll point you toward something else!

Fan Fiction Friday: Clarissa Explains A Handful Of Things

What do Emily Fields and Clarissa Darling have in common? You know, besides generally being able to bewitch anyone in their presence? The answer is that the guys who wrote/produced their shows have also written fan fiction about them. For Pretty Little Liars, it’s Joseph Dougherty’s charming “Yellow Sweater” series about Paige and Emily. It currently includes five novellas published on Amazon’s Kindle Worlds platform, all of which imagine Paige and Emily meeting in an alternate universe in the mid ’60s. For Clarissa Explains It All, it’s a new novel by creator Mitchell Kriegman titled “Things I Can’t Explain” that follows Clarissa into adulthood on Manhattan’s Upper East Side, where she struggles to find love and a satisfying career. It was released just yesterday.

The fact that these stories exist only proves what fandom has been saying all along: That characters aren’t containable inside the restricted narrative worlds we see on our TVs. Fandom has been taking characters out of the box for decades, reimagining them in worlds that are free of network standards and practices, studio control, popular opinion, and the limitations of writers who are confined by episode time limits and showrunner visions and advertising money and other things that are the opposite of poetry. Yes, TV is awesome, and there is nothing quite as powerful as quality representation on shows watched by millions of people, but TV isn’t the apex of good storytelling. Fandom takes it farther.
fan-fic-friday

I think we’re seeing the beginning of a trend here. I think in the coming years, as TV writers find more ways to work with studios and networks, there will be dozens of fan fiction novels written and published about our favorite TV characters and written by our favorite TV writers. Will those stories be as good as the ones crafted by queer women inside queer fandom? It’s doubtful. (It also doesn’t make fan fiction more “legitimate.”) However, talented writers having the freedom to explore these worlds the way we do (and to see them outside the confines of the advertising delivery system they exist in on-air) can only be a good thing.

J.K. Rowling once said if she had the time, she’d write Jane Austen fan fiction — but even the world’s greatest storyteller probably wouldn’t understand that Emma Woodhouse and Jane Fairfax belong together.

This month, I have five witchy story recommendations for you, an essay from my dear friend Tammy about what fandom means to her, a round-up of mainstream fan fiction news, and answers to some of of your fandom-related questions.

Fan Fiction Friday: Something Wicked This Way Comes

It’s a good time for witches here at Autostraddle dot com. Not only is Mey Rude curating Witch Hunt, the coolest witchy column on the internet; but also, Rachel just wrote an essay about the Salem Witch trials called Who Is It That Afflicts You? and it’s one of the best pieces of writing I have ever read in my life. Add that to the new Clarissa book, and it’s time to explore some witchy fan fiction. Here are five of my favorites.

Something Most Odd by harper_m

Pairing: Elphaba/Galinda, Wicked
Plot: Galinda is furious with herself that she’s fallen in love with someone so weird.
Length: 13,000 words

Finding the Center by wasureneba

Pairing: Hermione/Luna, Harry Potter
Plot: Hermione is too clever to be surprised by anything — except the fact that she really, really likes Luna Lovegood.
Length: 2,700 words

Scurvy Grass and Sneezewort by slayerette

Pairing: Willow/Tara, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Plot: Okay, this is an adorable Willow/Tara AU set at Hogwarts.
Length: 3,600 words

Early to Bed by superfluouskeys

Pairing: Maleficent/Aurora, Sleeping Beauty
Plot: “Briar Rose has never known anything but love and kindness. Now, with all the evil of the world placed upon her shoulders at once, she finds herself terrified, ill-equipped, and completely fascinated.”
Length: 67,000 words

somewhere, someone must know the ending by maleficently

Pairing: Emma/Regina, Once Upon a Time
Plot: An OG SwanQueen fic that always makes everyone’s “best of” lists.
Length: 130,000 words

Listening to the news! Again?

Fandom in the news and around the world this month.

+ Marissa Myer, writer of the NYT bestselling Luna Chronicles, got her start writing fan fiction. So when she was planning the release of the final book, she invited fans to submit their own fan works about her story for a chance to win cool things. The winners were just announced.

+ The New Statesman discusses the way fan fiction has gained credibility over the years, which is a really gross reality — that women exploring ideas about sex and sexuality and gender and relationships deserve to be mocked and derided, but when professional writers do it they deserve to be celebrated — but it’s an interesting read nonetheless.

+ Vulture is doing a fascinating High School TV Showdown right now. This week they pitted Buffy against Friday Night Lights and things got heated when FNL won. One cool thing to come out of that particular matchup, though, was an article about the glory of Buffy’s perpetual resurrection due to fan fiction.

It’s not surprising that Buffy the Vampire Slayer inspires a Hellmouth-size amount of fanfiction. After all, the television series has a rabid fan base and loads of mythology to unpack and expand upon. The show also gave its titular slayer two ill-fated romances — Angel and Spike — leaving fans to fulfill those relationship story lines in their own fictionalized worlds. (Sorry, not sorry, Riley.) To truly understand Buffy’s fanfic reach, though, consider the following: One site featured 351 Buffy-related fiction updates last month, even though the series ended its run more than a decade ago.

+ The Advocate asked some folks to debate the pros and cons of fan fiction. It’s cute! I also got a good new Hermione-centric post-Hogwarts story out of it!

+ The deadline has passed, but Southpark was asking for slash fan art submissions for the actual show last week. I hope Disney does that one day.

+ Inverse posted a really thoughtful article about the science of why being a fan is good for you.

Fans want to make the things they love that much better, so they find something that they don’t agree with — a problematic representation or a social issue that could be highlighted — they talk about it, work with it, try to explain or understand. This is how significant social change happens — it’s very difficult for media creators to be able to see their own blind spots. Having students learn from fans is a way of allowing students to become more critical of the media they watch.

Owl Post

A handful of answer to a handful of TV questions.

Do you have any news about Paige returning to Pretty Little Liars?

No, my darling coconut cupcake, I do not. I know she’s not in season six at all and that the more noise you make on Twitter about a Pretty Little Thing thing the more likely your voice is to be heard by the people making the decisions about love stories. I wish I could tell you something more optimistic, or give you a more elegant solution for seeing Paige rise from the ashes like a trash can-smashing phoenix, but it turns out the noise is the thing.

Is Emison Endgame? 

See above!

What are your thoughts on the overwhelming privileged visibility of m/m slash fic when mainstream media does bother to report on fandom, and how do you think femslashers can work to make our fandoms and our work more visible?

This is an awesome question. The problem, of course, is that so much mainstream media is baffled by the concept of storytelling and sexuality that does not center on male experience, and so even if it’s women writing slash fiction (and most of the time, statistically, it is), people have to find a way to make that female experience about a dude. I did a research project one time in which I surveyed about 2,000 women who write m/m fan fiction and the overwhelming majority of them said they chose m/m because they are attracted to men and enjoy writing about men but they don’t like to write straight fiction because of the intrinsic power dynamics/gender roles at play in those relationships EVEN IN THEIR OWN IMAGINATIONS. And so writing romance about two men allows them to swoon about love outside the confines of societal expectations about partnerships. When mainstream sites cover women who write m/m fic, that’s the angle I want to read about, that these women can’t even escape patriarchal oppression in their own minds. Alas.

As for making femalsh more visible, the tricky thing is it needs economic traction. It needs to be published and make money, like all the thinly disguised Twilight fic that’s around in bookstores these days, or like Rainbow Rowell’s Draco/Harry fan fiction (and it is Draco/Harry fan fiction), Carry On. One really good thing that’s going to happen in just a few weeks is Carol is going to hit theaters, and because it’s going to make some money and be nominated for about 20 Golden Globes and Oscars, mainstream media is going to have to find lots of new angles to talk about it, and they’re going to have to dig into Patricia Highsmith’s The Price Of Salt and they’re going to go looking for more lesbian pulp. Femslash is there, just waiting for them. And also, book publishers wanna follow that Hollywood trend. Carol gives me a little hope.

I can only make time for three TV shows at the moment. Which three would you recommend? 

Jane the Virgin, Master of None, Steven Universe!

What do you think about the Red Warrior rumors and do you think that means TPTB aren’t ever going to give us Swan Queen? 

I think Once‘s writers/producers were never going to give you Swan Queen, actually. Like they have no intention of doing it ever in any circumstance no matter what, and so adding this potential pairing isn’t going to change anything on that front. The two questions that are interesting to me here, and we won’t know the answers until after it plays out, are: 1) Are they really, seriously going to give this Red Warrior thing the soul it deserves, or are they just going to paint-by-numbers their way through it for two episodes and be like, “God, we gave you lesbians, what do you assholes want from us?” 2) Where does SQ fandom go from there?

I think there is tremendous value in femslash fandoms organizing around all shows, even ones that are never going to go there with their favored pairing. Because, for starters, femslashers always elevate the critical conversation about story consumption. Being in fandom just makes you smarter and you can take what you learn and extrapolate it and apply it to all the TV you watch and all the fandoms you join in the future. And also because the people who create TV need to know they’re being held accountable. And so do networks and studios. And fandom does that too. It forces engagement with critical feminist thinking.

Race Daniels had some great insight about this in the last column!

Is Carol as good as you said it was for real? Don’t lie to me, Hogan. 

It is, yes. It’s even better than I said it was. Words failed me.

Daily Prophet: What Does Fandom Mean To You?

I asked my dear friend Tammy (@tylynn_sings), who I met through Pretty Little Liars, to write about the experience of coming to fandom in her 30s and also about what fandom means to her. And so she did that and this is what she had to say. It’s very insightful!

I joined Twitter in 2012. At the time I was a 33 year old high school teacher who had stated on several occasions that I “didn’t see the point” of that particular social media platform. What could I possibly have to say in 140 characters that was so important or so engaging that it had to be put out on the internet for others to see? What were other people saying that they thought was so great? Why were people spending so much time talking to strangers online? (#GetOffMyLawn) However, at this time I was also about a year or two into my discovery of this thing called “fandom.”

I’ve been a television fan for my entire life. I remember vividly every Sunday of 3rd grade making sure that I had taken a shower early enough so I wouldn’t miss any of Dolly, Dolly Parton’s short lived variety show. The Tanner family felt like my extended family. I have known since I was 14 that my romantic story would never be as good as Cory and Topanga’s. I remember Melissa Joan Hart as Clarissa and Sabrina. As I grew older, I fell in love over and over again with different shows. Lois and Clark. Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Xena. Alias. Smallville. Gilmore Girls.

In 2012, I was no different. Pretty Little Liars was about to start its third season. Glee was wrapping up its third season. But what was different for me at this time was I had discovered people were talking about these shows online. There were brilliant, articulate people posting recaps of television shows at different sites, and the comment sections were full of debate, analysis, and speculation. People were talking about television! And they were talking about it in a way that I had never experienced.

This is what led me to Twitter. I wanted to talk with the people who were talking about television! I wanted to have conversations about compelling storylines and relatable characters and portrayal of minorities. Twitter offered this conversation, and it offered it with the added bonus of speaking anonymously.

Why was the anonymity such an appeal for me? I could tell a half truth and say it’s because I’m a teacher, a gay teacher, and at the time I was in a very conservative community. That was certainly part of it. But I had plenty of friends and colleagues who knew I was gay, but I wasn’t talking to them about television. No, the real reason I wanted the anonymity is because of this perception in society that television is not an intellectually stimulating form of entertainment.

We’ve all encountered that person, right? You bring up a television show you watch and they brush you off with an airy, “Oh, I don’t even own a television.” They read books (but only certain books). They watch movies (but only certain movies). They have no time or brain cells to waste on the “boob tube.”

And it just makes you feel so small, doesn’t it? They’re implying that they have something that you don’t, some ability to be discerning about what is cultured and worthwhile, whereas you are satisfied with entertainment made for the masses. They want to order a steak for dinner, but you’re okay with Spam, is what they’re trying to tell you.

So I took to Twitter, using a handle that told you nothing about who I am and an avatar that was certainly not an actual picture of me. I waded out into the unknown waters of online fandom, and my life hasn’t been the same since. I discovered what has been no secret to anyone who’s been involved in fandom for any length of time. People were elevating the conversation around television shows.

Fandom takes every storyline from their favorite show and mines it for everything it’s worth. They analyze dialogue for subtext, they scrutinize facial expressions and direction choices to see if there’s a story under the story, they deconstruct wardrobe to see what it has to say about a character. Absolutely nothing is taken at face value. Fandom can have an entire episode of a television show deconstructed completely within an hour of its airtime. But make sure you come back to the conversation the next day as well because it’s almost certain someone will have discovered something else to talk about.

This level of dissection of stories has forced show runners to step up their game. They know if there’s an inconsistency in plot line, or if editing leaves an interpretation of emotion unclear, fandom will have something to say about it. It’s certainly true that different show runners are reacting in different ways to the voices of fandom. But it’s apparent that they all hear those voices. In my opinion, it’s because of this critical analysis that television has become the most influential storytelling platform.

Fandom is helping television become the nuanced, cultured, worthwhile form of entertainment that we need. And fandom is full of people who exactly the people who are right for that job.

Because let’s talk for a minute about the glaring problem with there being the “right” kinds of books and movies, or any kind of stories that we should be consuming in order to be considered informed. Who decides what the “right” ones are? Who has access to these stories? What criteria are used to differentiate between stories? I can tell you the people who don’t get to make these decisions. People of color. Women. Members of the LGBT community. These are not the voices that typically get to choose the “right” stories.

This is still true when it comes to television. The writers and producers and other show runners involved are not typically members of any minority group. Fandom, however, is a very diverse group. And fandom, at its very best, understands the need for diverse stories and they clamor for them.

I think it’s pretty accepted that the Brittany and Santana relationship wouldn’t have happened on Glee had it not been for the uproar from fandom, demanding that their story be explored. It sounds like something similar has happened with the relationship between Root and Shaw on Person of Interest. And while there have been eras in the past where it seemed like television was moving to more diversity (remember the early ‘90s when Family Matters, Fresh Prince of Bel Air, In Living Color, and Living Single were all on at the same time?), it always turned out that we were too optimistic and what we saw returned to the status quo. Now when diversity disappears from our screens, fandoms point it out and demand to know why it happened, and what it will be replaced with.

Fandom has provided the most intellectually stimulating conversations about stories that I’ve ever experienced. Fandom taught me about feminism. Fandom taught me about the need for intersectionality in feminism. Fandom taught me how to examine a story for what it is, and then gently extract only what it is I need from that story to make me feel whole.

Now I’m a 37 year old high school teacher. I recently had a conversation with a fellow teacher after she and I overheard two of my students debating who was cooler: Kim Possible or Buffy Summers.

Her: I’ve never seen Buffy.
Me: You really need to fix that.
Her: I’m not into vampires.
Me: It’s not about vampires.
Her: She’s a vampire slayer.
Me: It’s not about vampires.
Her: So what’s it about? Sarah Michelle Gellar?
Me (voice elevated, cheeks flushed): It’s about a young girl’s struggle for her own agency in a society of patriarchal oppression that won’t let her have any power!

Fandom gave me the courage to use my voice about the importance of television. (Oh, and don’t worry. I set my two students straight on the fact that no one is cooler than Buffy.)

If you have questions for the next column or are interested in writing an essay or being interviewed here, send me an owl!

Fan Fiction Friday: Has Rainbow Rowell Legitimized Fan Fiction Once And For All?

Over the course of the summer, I had drinks and dinners and coffees with some of my favorite television writers. It’s always interesting to hear people I admire talk about things they’ve written, and juxtapose what they wanted me to feel with what I actually felt when I was watching their episodes of TV. It’s also fascinating to hear how many changes their personal visions go through from first script to final episode. Everyone’s giving feedback, you know. Showrunners, producers, actors, networks, studios. And once the script passes muster, the director shapes the story, and the actors, and the editor. And every character has a dozen writers writing for her at any given time. TV sausage is a very complicated thing!

Which is why I find myself drawn more and more deeply into fan fiction these days. I noticed it first during Glee, but now I think it’s true of most shows I watch: Fan communities often know queer TV characters better than the people who created them and get paid to write about them. And, more importantly, fan fiction writers aren’t bound by network constraints or ratings mandates or the demands of advertisers. Fan Fiction is pure, unfiltered story, and story is our most ancient need.

I am thrilled with the growing number of queer characters on TV, but many of them feel like paint-by-numbers kits to me. Fandom, however, never colors inside the lines.

This month, I’ve got a round-up of some Steven Universe fan fictions for you. I think it’s the best written show on TV right now, and one of the queerest. Longtime fan fiction writer Race Daniels chatted with me about all sorts of fandom related things, including harnessing fandom power and unleashing it in a way that really matters. I’ve rounded up some of the more interesting fan fiction conversations from mainstream media this month, and unsurprisingly many of them are about Rainbow Rowell’s new novel, Carry On. I’ve answered your burning TV questions, and I’ve got a book recommendation for you.

Fan Fiction Friday: Steven Universe

Everything I said above about how fandom often knows TV characters better than the folks who write them? That does NOT apply to Steven Universe. This show is a (forgive me) gem. Watching it is always a highlight of my week. The stories are so intricately and lovingly stitched together and voice-acted by almost all women of color. It has better character development than Mad Men, with none of the schadenfreude. Here are a handful of adorable Steven Universe stories.

ruby-sapphire

Love Overgrows a Rock by mautadite

Pairing: Ruby/Sapphire
Plot: “No one is that surprised, to tell it true. It’s always been Ruby and Sapphire, together.”
Length: 3,000 words

Honesty Is by TheColorBlue

Pairing: Ruby/Sapphire
Plot: “Garnet doesn’t worry about introducing Steven to her disparate parts. Well, she doesn’t visibly worry.”
Length: 3,100 words

United We Stand, Divided We Fall by Audrey_Lynne

Pairing: Ruby/Sapphire, Pearl/Rose Quartz (unrequited)
Plot: Sapphire sings. Ruby screams. It’s something of a joke, given their personalities. Until it’s Sapphire screaming, inconsolable, as her world is in shards around her. Literally. Featuring Steven’s healing powers, Pearl’s angst, and Amethyst’s stellar lack of refinement.
Length: 4,300 words

awivpitvkpmw1kphr5od

Unyielding Resonance by AeroCat

Pairing: Ruby/Sapphire
Plot: A longform fusion story!
Length: 18,000 words

I Want To Understand by Kris_Amethyst

Pairing: Peridot/Amethyst
Plot: After the events of “Too Far,” Peridot talks with Steven and Amethyst and struggles to understand the concept of love.
Length: 700 words

Serious Peridot by GollyGamma

Pairing: None, just Peridot!
Plot: Peridot is trapped in Steven’s bathroom. Now what?
Length: 3,5000 words

Listening to the news! Again?

Fandom in the news around the world this month.

CarryOn

+ NPR’s review of Rainbow Rowell’s Carry On is written by one of us!

In preparing for this review I found myself searching for the opposite of “meta” — something that would mean below as well as above. Because in Carry On, Rainbow Rowell has written the book inside her other book, which was inspired by books outside her book, and it would be nice to have precise terminology to discuss such literary nesting dolls. In the absence of that terminology, I’ll say — not at all facetiously — that Carry On is hands-down the best Harry Potter fan fiction I’ve ever read, and I’ve read some genuinely excellent fan fiction (shout-out to GatewayGirl’s Blood Magic!).

+ And here’s Slate’s similarly glowing review: Rainbow Rowell’s New Book Is a Harry Potter Rip-Off That Proves How Great Fan Fiction Can Be

In Fangirl, at one point Cath gets in trouble in her creative writing class for turning in fan fiction. Her professor insists that it doesn’t count if she didn’t create the characters and the world in the first place. But Carry On makes a case for fan fiction’s literary legitimacy. It’s not easy to mimic, deconstruct, and remix the elements of a magical world in the way Rowell has here.

+ HuffPo examines “the sex-positive world of erotic fan fiction.”
This is an interesting article, but like basically every other article written by mainstream media about fan fiction, the author keeps that Professional Writer cred alive by reminding readers in various ways that she’s not one of these people who enjoys “poorly copy-edited” erotica about other people’s fictional characters. I don’t agree with a lot of the conclusions. Still, though, it’s well thought-out and well-reported. The writer had an open mind when she went into it, at least!

+ Tech Insider’s Culture blog rounded up what they believe are the eleven best Harry Potter AUs.

+ Thanks to the new Lisbeth Salander book, The Atlantic is grappling with fan fiction this month. You’ve read parts of this article a dozen times before. “Fan Fiction, it’s everywhere! JK Rowling likes it! Ann Rice hates it! People were writing fan fiction before the internet, if you can even believe it!” But what’s interesting here is that the author starts to pull on this thread of: Why are amateur fic writers mocked while David Lagercrantz (who wrote the latest Salander book) and all the millionaires who make rebooted superhero movies (which is basically just, like, Batman fan fiction) are so celebrated? It’s an incisive question.

+ Oh, just a 17-year-old girl landing a book deal ’cause her fan fiction is so good.

+ Competitive erotic fan fiction is a real thing.

+ The Duke University Chronicle published an interesting essay last month that I missed. The author wonders if mainstream derision of fan fiction is actually just another form of misogyny.

I am concerned about this social inclination to dismiss or trivialize fanfic works. The implication is that something written by women and read majorly by women is somehow less important and unworthy of respect. There was a loud and angry twitter campaign a while ago called #fakegeekgirls. The premise was that several women were attending comic conventions in costumes in order to “seem nerdy and pick up the interest of men.” Female cosplayers were specifically picked on and accused that they were dressing up to get attention. Yes, I saved up for weeks, tailored my own spandex outfit and took a nine hour flight to trap you in my romantic clutches, dear stranger.

Daily Prophet: Interview with Race Daniels

I met Race Daniels when I stumbled onto her Warehouse 13 fan fiction, “A Pirate’s Life For Me,” a couple of years ago. In the story, Helena is a pirate and Myka is a Special Agent and they fall madly in love on the sea. (Also, there are horses.) I love that story. It came to me at exactly the time I needed it. And so I tracked down Race and forced her to be my buddy, and now I follow her all around the internet and read what she writes every time she writes something. Not just fan fiction, though. Race is also all about fan communities strategically and effectively communicating with the people who make the TV shows they love, so their collective voice can have an impact on what they see on their screens. She was kind enough to pause her Person of Interest marathon yesterday and chat with me.

How did you get into fandom in the very beginning?

Oh man, it was back in the dark days of dialup and AOL chats, in 1999-2000, and it was fairly casual. I think I started with Xena and Star Trek Voyager and I mostly was just a passive reader. I had no real sense of the community back then. I did stumble across a few message boards, but I was always too chicken to really participate. And then in 2003 I found xenafiction.net and that’s pretty much where it the metaphorical shit got real. I started contacting — by email, because archives didn’t support reviews in those days — the authors of stories I liked. At least those who had posted an email address; not everyone did in those days, I just wrote how much I’d enjoyed their fic, etc. Mostly I got no responses or a “thanks for taking the time to say so” but one or two wrote back and we struck up a correspondence.

You’re a really excellent (and rightly admired) fan fiction writer, but your involvement with fandom is much broader than that. You spend a lot of time talking about how fandom can influence what actually happens on TV. Can you talk a little bit about that part of your fandom experience?

I love you for saying so but the truth is I don’t consider myself an excellent writer. I’m constantly finding other fic writers that drive me to try and improve my writing. As for the relationship between fandom and TV, though, you’re right in that I am super passionate about this. At the same time, though, I’m often very frustrated by the lack of understanding of how media as an industry works. Which I want to stress is not meant as a dig at fandom. The sausage of TV making is not at all a transparent process. Decision making that results in the stories we see on our screens often happens at levels fans have no access too. A storyline we hate may have been mandated by an executive looking at some obscure advertising data crunched by an analyst the average fan has no idea even exists.

When the Warehouse fandom worked toward getting a fifth season, one of the things the people behind the campaign tried to do was provide as much information as possible about the financial motivations of networks because story doesn’t mean beans. TV isn’t about artistic integrity. It’s not about social good. It’s about money. To an unfortunate extent it will probably always be about money. And overwhelmingly (although I do think it’s changing for the better), the metrics and data too many networks base their decisions about how to make that money on are wrong.

A major part of RenewWarehouse13’s campaign was a survey designed to show Syfy they had a significant non-traditional viewing audience not captured by Nielsen. Younger viewers no longer want to be tied to cable schedules and 18 minutes of advertising per 60 minute time slot, but that reality isn’t being reflected yet in programming decisions. Like any system of power in the US, people in decision making positions in media companies are generally heterosexual, cisgender, older, white males, a fact which has exactly the effect on what media looks like that think it does. It’s changing: I could not be happier about Shondaland, Legend of Korra, and tween-targeted shows like The 100 — but it’s changing because people like Shonda Rhimes and shows like Empire and the creators of Legend of Korra and Adventure Time and Steven Universe are showing networks that diversity can be profitable. It’s horrible to have to talk about it in those terms, but that’s the media environment we’re dealing with.

You do a lot of work with subtext fandoms. Is that more of a draw for you than maintext fandoms?

Some of it is probably a holdover of just “growing up” in a media era where there was almost no maintext. Especially in genre shows. If you were a fan of ladies wielding guns or exploring outer space, you dealt in subtext. But for me as a writer I also really love having more “space” to play with the characters. I don’t need to fix canon femslash nearly as much, I’m happy to just watch the story unfold. (Well, usually.)

Let’s talk about Person of Interest. With the exception of Glee, which was basically forced into going there with Santana and Brittany, and did so grudgingly every step of the way for six seasons, there’s never been a show where two female characters were not conceived as queer but had such good chemistry that the writers really decided to go all in on a romantic relationship. (RIP WH13 dreams.) Do you think this is the future?

Bless this show. Bless the actresses and the writers and the production team who tell such intelligent stories and treat their audience with so much respect. I’ve never so thoroughly enjoyed the entire experience of being a fan of a TV show as with Person of Interest (even though Bering and Wells will always be the OTP). I would like to say relationships like Root and Shaw are the future but the media landscape is fickle enough I hesitate to make that claim. And to be brutally honest, I don’t just want more Root and Shaw situations (although I can think of one major one right now I’d like to see – anyone who’s been on my Tumblr knows what ship that is). I’d love to see more production teams have the guts and networks allow what the POI team did, but I want the future to have queer lady couples planned from the beginning. I want actresses cast before the pilot agreeing to play and promote and publicize a queer lady romance that is central to the plot and not just a check in the “diversity” box. I want the “will they/won’t they?” twist to be two ladies and the TV Guide cover to be flirty and adorable and sell out that issue. I think Person of Interest was potentially an incredibly important step in mainstreaming queer lady relationships, but I really want it to be just that. A step.

I want to talk a little bit about Swan Queen fandom. Really passionate, talented fandom, with staying power. But it seems unlikely anything on-screen is ever going to come out of that pairing. (More than one person at ABC has told me it’s not.) Do you find merit in continuing to participate in those fandoms where it’s likely always going to be subtext? Does there have to be the draw of it one day being on-screen for you to get excited about it, I guess, is what I am saying.

Does my shipping depend on potential for canon? LOL. Nah. My formative fandom years were Xena and Star Trek, my first LiveJournal fandoms were CSI and Criminal Minds. There was Legend of the Seeker and Otalia and then of course Bering and Wells and now SQ. It’s never been about canon for me. That doesn’t mean I don’t adore ships like Doccubus or Korrasami or Root and Shaw or Clexa or Calzona or The Fosters. We need all the canon ships we can get our hands on, and every ship brings something different and meaningful to the table in regard to visibility, but I’ve always been more interested in the transformative aspects of fandom.

Fandom has been such an amazing opportunity to be able to listen to so many extraordinarily intelligent people who I wouldn’t get to learn from anywhere else, people that have made me examine myself, my own privilege and the discourses in the media I consume in very necessary ways. I don’t want to say “fandom made me smarter” because I probably already sound pretentious enough but I do think it has made me less dumb, and I like that.

My own personal experience is that people who only care about canon tend to start sounding like gatekeepers after a while — those fanboys who refuse to consider you a “true fan” unless you can name every single ship in the registry that ever appeared on screen in Star Trek. That makes me deeply uncomfortable. No one should tell someone else that what they can or can’t find meaningful in a story. When “canon” becomes the end-all-be-all yardstick, I think it’s too easy to lose the subversive aspects of fandom that make it such an important place for learning. If canon is the only thing that matters why have discussions about how women are treated, or how characters of color are written, or how this narrative perpetuates rape culture, or how that story is strawman feminism? Canon is important but frankly I think it’s just the starting place for fandom’s greatest strengths: creation of new content and critique of the source material.

Can you talk a little bit about how fandom has changed your life just in terms of making real world friends?

Oh wow, fandom and real life and friendships. Can I just draw little heartseyes emojis all over the page? I literally cannot imagine the last few years without the Lunatics and the Bering and Wells fandom and the members of the SQ fandom I’ve become close with and the almost indescribable joy of finding a group of people who welcome all your insanity and make you go “Yes, these are my people.” I’m old enough that it sometimes still blows my mind that if I wanted to, I could visit people all across the US, in Canada, Latin America, Europe, Asia, and Australia, all just because at some point or another we wanted the same two fictional idiots to kiss.

Fandom has also been a place where I’ve developed a very tangible skill set. I’ve learned a staggering amount about social media networks, audience engagement, marketing, writing, and content creation and I am not at joking when I say I would pit fandom against a lot of professional marketing companies and bet on fandom every time. A lot of the vocabulary and theory I learned in graduate school also only became “real” by participating in fandom. It made me look much more critically at media. Fandom has been such an amazing opportunity to be able to listen to so many extraordinarily intelligent people who I wouldn’t get to learn from anywhere else, people that have made me examine myself, my own privilege and the discourses in the media I consume in very necessary ways. I don’t want to say “fandom made me smarter” because I probably already sound pretentious enough but I do think it has made me less dumb, and I like that.

What’s the most important thing about fandom?

If I had to pick the most important thing about fandom I would say fandom’s ability to educate fans and raise the level of critical discourse about mass media. The discussions that go on — at least in femslash circles, obviously I can’t really speak to fandom outside femslash — about internalized misogyny and racism and rape culture and transphobia; these are such important discussions and because of how fan networks are constructed and how far information can spread. We have the ability to move this discourse beyond our immediate spaces.

The smarter and more self-aware fandom is, and the more we take that discourse beyond our Tumblrs to influence the general audience, the more impact we can have on what mass audiences want — and, in turn, what network execs think audiences want, and therefore provide. Again, a lot of it comes back to money, so the more educated and critical fans are, the more likely we will start seeing media that reflects our views rather than catering to the same old demographics. I’m so excited to see the impact of shows like Legend of Korra and Steven Universe because of what it means for the expectations of the next generations of fans.

When in doubt, go to the library.

A personalized book recommendation for you!

I’m ashamed to admit it, but I only just read Bell Hooks‘ Reel to Real: Race, Sex, and Class at the Movies. The book includes interviews with filmmakers and over a dozen essays from Bell Hooks that examine the way different films engage with ideas about race, sex, class, gender, etc. and how we internalize the coded messages we’re receiving, whether we realize it or not. In some ways the book is quite dated. It was published in 1996 and some of the essays were written even before that, but in terms of dissecting the ways film and culture are shaping each other in a symbiotic relationship, the ideas Hooks presents are timeless.

We keep coming back to the question of representation because identity is always about representation. People forget that when they wanted white women to get into the workforce because of the world war, what did they start doing? They started having a lot of commercials, a lot of movies, a lot of things that were redoing the female image, saying, “Hey, you can work for the war, but you can still be feminine.” So what we see is that the mass media, film, TV, all of these things, are powerful vehicles for maintaining the kinds of systems of domination we live under, imperialism, racism, sexism etc. Often there’s a denial of this and art is presented as politically neutral, as though it is not shaped by a reality of domination.

It’s free on Google Books. My library had two copies.

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A handful of answer to a handful of TV questions.

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Caroline asks: Why do bad ships happen to good shows?

Bad ships happen to good shows because of exactly what Race said in her interview up there: Networks exist to make money, and they produce shows they hope soap-makers will pay a lot of money to advertise during, and the way to get soap-makers to pay a lot of money is to pull in a lot of viewers, and the way to pull in a lot of viewers is to appeal to the majority, and the majority of people like shitty shit. Also because writers get lazy and lean too much on tired tropes; or because writers are straight white guys who don’t check their monolithic view of the world; or because mainstream culture, in general, is a pretty gross place and most stories are written for people who don’t want to dismantle that grossness.

Lucy asks: What are your favorite tropes?

All the ones from Pride and Prejudice, and when two people who love/hate each other get trapped somewhere cold and are forced to share body heat.

Jerzey asks: 1. What is your favorite non-canon pairing? 2. What is the most influential fandom? 3. What ship were you most surprised that you liked?

1. Sadly, it is Bering and Wells. (Sadly, because there’s no reason they were not full-scissoring canon.) 2. Sadly, it was Glee. (Sadly, because we gave Ryan Murphy success and now look at him go.) 3. Root and Shaw! I thought Person of Interest was just another dumb procedural — CBS has done a terrible job marketing that show — and that those two were just going to be another damn Rizzoli and Isles. But they are SO MUCH MORE than that. Their characters are more fully realized, their affection is much deeper. They are good. They are a good ship. I cannot wait until next season.

Writing Writer asks: Will characters like Annalise Keating and Clarke Griffin help calm the stigma against bisexual leads on TV?

It’s all going to depend on how well the shows do, ratings-wise. HTGAWM‘s ratings are hardcore tanking this season. (Have you noticed the story is basically season six of The L Word? I know, I didn’t want to say it out loud either.) So there’s going to be a mandate from ABC come midseason, you can bet your bottom dollar on that, and so who knows if Famke will be the first thing to go? As for The 100, the buzz is better than ever, and The CW is expecting it to do very good things in 2016, so my fingers are crossed for that. Networks are all about the eyeballs. It doesn’t matter to them if people are bitching about their show being some kind of bisexual abomination hour; it matters to them if people are bitching about it while using their eyeballs and DVRs to watch it.

McCPLL asks: Why do you think ships like Ezria are supported by networks while healthy love like Paige and Emily are constantly scrutinised?

Unfortunately, this is the same answer as number one: Dollar bills, pumpkin.

Dr. Daphna asks: What’s the beest fanfic title ever?

A Spoonful Won’t Do

JessIsBest asks: Do you think Mulan returning to OUAT is going to hurt SwanQueen’s chances at being canon?

Nah. I actually have a sneaking suspicion Mulan isn’t even going to be involved in the Big Gay Relationship those guys keep promising. I’d bet my entire sack of Halloween candy that it’s going to be two randoms from Camelot that we’ve never heard of and will never see after their three episode love story arc. If I’m wrong, though, you’ll have a whole bunch of mini Reese’s and a Gal Pal Disney Princess!

And, look, I’m not trying to dissuade you from shipping who you ship, but if I had a nickel for every person at ABC who flat out told me Swan Queen isn’t going to happen, you’d be able to buy Willy Wonka’s factory and skip trick-or-treating all together. Your heart wants what it wants and I honor that and I’m sorry. At least SQ fandom is full of deliriously romantic and superbly written fic!

JuBee asks: Are you excited about PLL season 6B?

To be honest with you JuBee, I am not. I have a feeling some things are coming that are going to displease me greatly and I just want to write about the show I love, like the the one in seasons one through four, you know? You know. I love #BooRadleyVanCullen more than anything and I have loved so much of what this show has given us, but that finale really broke my heart.

Fan Fiction Friday: Jane the Virgin Stories, an Interview With a Fan Fic Pro and Even More Fandom Delights

When I started writing fan fiction a thousand years ago as a way to safely (and privately) explore the feeling I got in my heart and guts when I saw girls kissing other girls, the concept of fandom was a mystery to the world. Was fandom adults dressed up as Star Trek characters when it wasn’t even Halloween? Was it those people who argued on HotBot message boards about whether or not Mulder and Scully smooching was ruining the awesome alien parts of The X-Files? Was it Whovians doing whatever Dr. Seussical thing a Whovian does?

Over the last 15 years, “fandom” has become a concrete concept and well known word that basically means: any subculture that includes a group of people who interact based on their strong common interest of a thing. It can be a book series or a movie or a TV show or a sports team or a band or website or a writer or any old thing really. Fandom (and fan fiction) has actually been around since the very early 1900s when fans of Sherlock Holmes rallied around each other to protest the fact that Sir Arthur Conan Doyle murdered their favorite fictional detective, and to find solace in each other by continuing Holmes’ narrative saga with their own versions of his story. Now, though, it is easier than ever to find people who share your love (and outrage) over stories and to allow that love (and outrage) to manifest itself in myriad creative ways.

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Fandom is more accessible than ever, more popular than ever, more accepted in mainstream culture than ever — and, truly amazingly, fandom is more powerful than ever. Every year, hundreds of thousands of people spend millions of dollars participating in fan conventions. And because money makes people in charge pay attention, and social media makes our voices hard to ignore, the folks who make TV are listening and responding to us, both on-air and in real life.

When I conceived this column, I thought it would be a fun place to curate and celebrate fan fiction, and it has been that! But now I think it’s time to broaden the scope of it even more. So, starting this week, Fan Fiction Friday will be coming at you once a month. It’ll still include fan fiction recommendations, of course, but it will now also offer you news round-ups about fan culture, interviews with fic writers and TV writers and TV recappers and TV directors, mini-essays about fandom from people in fandom, polls, discussion questions, infographics, advice about harnessing the power of fandom to affect real change, and a grab bag where I answer questions people have been asking me.

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Queer female fandom is more important than ever, especially when it comes to television. Yes, we’re making strides, but those strides aren’t trends; they’ve come to us quickly and they could be taken away just as fast. And while it’s definitely exciting to see more and more lesbian and bisexual women on TV, those characters are still mostly cis and mostly white and mostly femme and mostly super thin and mostly background players.

It’s the Wild West out here and we’re contributing to the conversation about where and how to build the railroad! Just make sure you stay in a well-lit area and with a buddy when the train chugs through Rosewood.

Fan Fiction Friday: Jane the Virgin

Jane the Virgin was my favorite new TV show last season. It was surprisingly and unapologetically feminist. The mostly Latina cast was so refreshing, as were the queer threads that ran from the pilot to the finale. It was also just really, really smart and funny television. Weirdly, I can never find any femslash fic for this show, despite the fact that it boasts three canonically queer women, one very subtext-worthy best friendship, one Malfoy/Harry-style hate-hate relationship that would make for some very sexy sex, and a fictional world where literally any shenanigan is possible!

Below are five of the only stories I’ve stumbled upon, though my research has lasted nearly eight months! Do you know of more? You should tell me if you know more.

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conversation on the road by fallon_ash

Pairing: Luisa/Rose
Plot: After Luisa finds out everything about Rose, will she still love her? 
Length: 1,300 words

The Bright Side by confessorlove

Pairing: Luisa/Rose
Plot: Before we found out Rose was Sin Rostro, all we knew was that she loved Luisa. And wanted to make out with her — a lot.
Length: 3,500 words

burn with me tonight by morevnas

Pairing: Luisa/Rose
Plot: What if Luisa had just run away with Rose in the middle of season one, like Rose asked her to?
Length: 1,800 words

Business and Pleasure by viceroyvonmutini

Pairing: Luisa/Rose
Plot: Luisa gets wrapped up with one of Rose’s cronies and Rose has to shut it down.
Length: 1,800 words

walking the line by shatterthelight

Pairing: Luisa/Rose
Plot: Luisa’s been through hell more times than she can count, but she’s not sure she can survive this new Sin Rostra hellscape.
Length: 6,000 words

Daily Prophet: Interview With a Fandom Starshine

Valerie Anne is one of my best friends and also practically my next-door-neighbor — but we never would have met if it hadn’t been for Glee. We kept bumping into each other on Twitter while talking about the show. (Or, more accurately, while I threw things at the TV and shouted swear words about Ryan Murphy while she engaged in elegant, sophisticated conversation.) Valerie got her start writing fan fiction and recaps on her personal blog, and now she recaps Orphan Black, Once Upon a Time, Chasing Life, Black Sails, Rookie Blue, and Arrow for AfterEllen dot com. She has also interviewed all your favorite celebrities and inhaled the glorious scent of Evelyne Brochu’s perfume on a red carpet. This is an interview I did with her about fandom and fan fiction!

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At Boston Comic Con, L to R: Valerie, Jenna, Hayley Atwell (Agent Carter), Nic, and Nic

How did you get into reading fan fiction?

That’s a hard one, because I don’t remember specifically. I know I was in RPG chat rooms for Buffy a lot back when I was too young to know that I was using it to explore my own sexuality and AOL was still a thing. And that’s basically live-action fanfiction. But I think started reading real fanfic because of Glee. They had all right components for a great story, they just weren’t USING them. I wanted to read what it would be like for Brittany and Santana to be together, and the internet did not disappoint.

How/when did you make the transition to writing fan fiction?

I’m going to be honest with you and you’re not allowed to make fun of me. After Season 2 of Glee ended, it looked like maybe Brittana would never happen. So I spent a lot of time thinking about what it would be like if, for their senior year, Santana started dating someone else. I’ve spent my whole life inserting myself into my favorite shows and stories in my imagination, so it didn’t end up being that much of a leap to insert someone else in. It was easier than I thought it would be, because I didn’t really have to do much worldbuilding or character development. It was like playing with puppets someone else made, all I had to do was choose the adventure. And I kind of loved it. Of course, looking back, that first fic is the worst thing I’ve ever read, but it opened a lot of doors for me in my mind and let me really start flexing my creative muscles and creating original fiction. It was sort of like I found out I had wings on my back this whole time and I didn’t even know it.

Of course, looking back, that first fic is the worst thing I’ve ever read, but it opened a lot of doors for me in my mind and let me really start flexing my creative muscles and creating original fiction. It was sort of like I found out I had wings on my back this whole time and I didn’t even know it.

How would you say writing fan fiction affected you in terms of now you’re a professional writer about television.

It really opened the world of ‘what if’s for me. Imagining these characters in entirely different settings and thinking about how they would react in different situations got me thinking about those things while I’m writing recaps for any show. I find myself sometimes interjecting things like, “Can you imagine if this had happened?” and detailing how I think the character would have responded. It makes them seem more dynamic, I think, to be able to take them out of the box a little. And it’s easier to connect to them that way, and I think when the person writing about the show cares about the characters, it helps make TV recaps more enjoyable.

How has the fan community you experience online changed your life outside of writing, for good or for bad?

I’ll start with the bad because it’s shorter not because it’s bigger: the hardest part about being in fandom is getting attacked for your feelings. It doesn’t happen often, but it does, it feels like getting slapped in the face. When someone takes your words and twists them into a knife they stabbed themselves in the gut with, it’s an alarming experience. But that’s not too prevalent; usually the ‘ship wars’ I participate in are more like verbal pillow fights.

BUT the good part is all my favorite friends are from the fan community! #BooRadleyVanCullen changed my whole life! I’ve spent my whole life feeling like a little bit of an outsider, even in my own group of friends. And even now, as an out and proud “adult” (term used loosely), and I have a group of straight friends that are awesome and I have so much fun with them, there’s still something missing. With fandom, I’ve found people who GET me. They’re queer and they’re obsessed with stories and they understand why sometimes I’m shouting in all caps and would never ask me to make plans on a Saturday night in April or May when Orphan Black is on. Plus, it brought me to you! And you showed me that words can change someone’s world – and sometimes even the whole world – and how important and exciting that is.

What advice do you have for people who want to get involved in fan communities but are too shy/worried they’re not talented enough?

I would first send them a link to the fanfic Hogwarts School of Prayer and Miracles and promise them they will never write anything as absurd as that. As for shyness, writing your first few under a pseudonym is an option, but really if you’re writing something you love, it will all work out just fine. Find a friend to beta for you, and just throw it out there. You can always take it down if you change your mind. But I bet you won’t. The thing about fanfiction is you can’t write it for the community you want to be a part of. You have to write it for you, and the right community will find you.

How have you seen fandom change what we see on actual TV? How can fandom do even better/more?

I’m pretty sure the last season of Glee didn’t even have a writers’ room, I’m pretty sure it was just Ryan Murphy printing out fanfictions and giving it to the cast. No but seriously I think sometimes shows see what fans react to and react accordingly – sometimes they don’t, and that’s their prerogative, but it’s an easy way to see which things are gripping people’s hearts. I also think that fandoms can point out when a show goes wrong – and not just like “oh we didn’t like that” because that’s not the kind of control a fandom should have. But like, “hey that was offensive/socially irresponsible”. Because maybe they didn’t even realize it in their Hollywood bubble. But we’re out here in the world, and social media has given us a voice, so why not use it to right the big wrongs? And I think we’re pretty good at that.

I do think some factions of fandom need to learn how to be constructive with their criticism. We live our lives with our hearts on our sleeves and our feelings turned up to 11, so sometimes when someone disagrees with us or a show does something we don’t like, we go nuclear first. Which isn’t always the best way to get results. I also think fandoms need to support each other. It’s fun to debate about why you like this character (for example, I spent many a season defending Alison DiLaurentis to anyone who would listen) but I see too much hate and pointy words and even threats and that’s taking things way too far. The beauty of fandom is that there’s something for everyone; there’s every kind of ship, a tumblr dedicated to every single character you could imagine, crossover imaginings that are just out of this world. There’s room enough for all of us, the internet is infinite.

What’s your favorite fan fiction you’ve ever written and your favorite fan fiction period?

You already featured “Face of the Unknown” in one of your earlier Fan Fiction Friday round-ups, and that’s the only one I know is good, but “Look At You” is a Spencer/Quinn crack!fic because anything is possible in fanfiction.

And “The Music Box” was the first multi-chapter AU fanfic I followed religiously, and one of the first I read in general. I have a hard time with such extreme AUs because it doesn’t feel like fan fiction, it feels like fiction with the same names as popular characters, but I liked this one so much and it opened my mind a bit to fan fiction.

You can find Valerie on Twitter: @PunkyStarshine / Tumblr: PunkyStarshine / and at AfterEllen.

Listening to the news! Again?

Fandom in the news and around the world this week. 

+ Australia’s ABC news network profiled Tania Phillips, a journalist with Asperger’s who write fan fiction as a creative outlet from her day job.

“I’m Asperger’s, so I get to the point where I obsess over things, not in a scary, stalker-ish way though,” she said. “I wanted to write and I wanted an audience for that, so I started writing fan fiction because there was a fan base there.” Heat has had more than 50,000 reads online which, if translated to retail, would make Tania one of Australia’s best-selling authors of 2015. But Tania receives no payment for her fan fiction. She doesn’t do it for the money.

+ /Slash/ is a film-in-progress about a fan fiction writer named Neil whose “taboo” fan fiction is discovered by his friends. I don’t care about another movie about another white guy, but I don’t know any more films about fan fiction in the works.

+ Is the new Lisbeth Salander book fan fiction? Bleeding Cool News sure does think so!

As far as I’m concerned, any story not by the original author, written without the approval or wishes of the original author, is fan fiction. Lagercrantz has spoken in interviews publicising the new novel about how he re-read and absorbed the characters and ideas of Larsson’s original novels in order to put him in the right mindset to write Mikael Blomkvist and Lisbeth Salander in a new plot that captures the feel and complications of Larsson’s books. From the reviews and what I’ve read so far, The Girl In the Spider’s Web is a very competent and perfectly entertaining act of literary mimicry, recreating the feel of the characters and the world of the first three books as well as the technothriller procedural plots. But the question is, is there more than that to it? Does it have Larsson’s undertone of political anger and activism against injustice, misogyny and corruption, or is it just a fun pulp romp for the beach?

Man, fan fiction is so much more complicated than we think.

+ HoustonPress decided to explore subculture and inexplicably grouped fan fiction writers with real literal vampires who walk on this earth.

+ Refinery29 profiled one of the internet’s biggest, loudest, and most powerful fandoms — Supernatural. The writer pulls on a really interesting thread, wondering out loud why such a male-centric show that stuffed their beloved lesbian character in the refrigerator last season continues to draw mostly female and LGBT viewers.

The SPN show universe is complex, which likely appeals to the fandom. In many ways, its political message is liberal. There is no God in their universe and to the dismay of the angels, God has been missing for centuries. The lines of morality are forever being redrawn and the Winchester brothers at the center of it are both nihilists and eternal optimists. That said, there are a few bones of contention between the fans and the show’s writers. The main one being: women. There are loads of female characters on SPN, but none of them have ever been in the core group. And there’s a problem with the writers constantly killing the women off. It came to a head in season nine when fan favorite Charlie, played by Felicia Day, was sacrificed in the service of facing down the season’s villain. It’s a debate that has been raging for several seasons and while it may not stop fans from tuning in, it can be a turn-off.

When in doubt, go to the library.

A personalized book recommendation for you! 

One of the best essay collections I have ever read about fandom and fan culture is Smart Pop Books’ Fic: Why Fan Fiction Is Taking Over The World. It features thoughts on so many aspects of fanworks — from the way they tear down the systematic inequalities we see on TV to the way they provide a playground for aspiring writers to hone their craft — from professors, philosophers, social anthropologists, TV executives, and fan fiction writers themselves.

Producers of fanworks are in an enviable position to engage with race and culture concerns, and not simply reproduce the systems of thought that function as the canon (either in terms of the media itself or the society that produces it). They can interact with these, if not as equals, then as new contenders, and actually produce a space where race and culture are thoughtfully and respectfully engaged.
– Rukmini Panda and Samira Nadkarni, Fic: Why Fan Fiction Is Taking Over The World

Writers Rukmini Panda and Samira Nadkarni weigh in on the way fan fiction writers are able to push back against TV’s propensity to make everything overwhelmingly white, while professor Kristina Busse explores the way fan fiction makes our favorite fictional works even more fun. Even Chris Rankin, who played Percy Weasley in the Harry Potter films, and Amber Bebson, who played Tara on Buffy, contributed to the anthology.

If you’re interested in the academics of fandom, I can’t recommend this book highly enough.

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A handful of answer to a handful of TV questions that made their way to me this week. 

Do you know if Lindsey Shaw is coming back to Pretty Little Liars? If not, how can we get her back?

I am bereft to tell you that it does not seem like she will appear in season six at all. I’ve asked everyone in the know who would whisper that information into my ear, and they’ve all mostly frowned and shaken their heads (or sent frowning emojis). I’m pretty heartbroken over Pretty Little Liars right now, so I don’t have the emotional capacity to get involved, but the writers do listen on Twitter, and you know in your heart that Marlene King is the one making those big decisions, so I’d start there if I were you.

Have you seen the BBC’s ‘The Scandalous Lady W’ starring Natalie Dormer? I just watched it and I need someone with good critical faculties to tell me how to feel about it.

I have not, but what you described her — “scandalous” and “Natalie Dormer” — appeal to my interests very much. I assume there is not a queer situation happening here, due to Twitter still functioning properly. (RIGHT?!) Did you know Natalie Dormer woke up like that? How her face is constantly locked into a smirk like she’s in on an enormous delicious secret? She was born with her mouth doing that! Anyway, let me know about the gayness of this; I have to prioritize.

THANK YOU for criticizing Ezria! Also Emily’s the ultimate Hufflepuff right?

You’re welcome, gentle soul. My hatred for Ezra only grows with each passing day. And yeah, I think Emily is the ultimate Hufflepuff, which serves her well in so many ways but is a disaster in so many others. (Sara “Plain White Bread” Harvey, for example.) (Oh! Speaking of which, this Tumblr is the ultimate in Sara Harvey fan fiction, which doesn’t sound like a thing you need in your life but totally is.)

Have you been catching up on “Steven Universe”? If you have, then what’s your favorite song?

I have, yes! I watch and read everything Mey Rude tells me to watch and read. In fact, I have a Slack date with her to discuss last night’s episode as soon as this column is published. My favorite song is “Strong In The Real Way.” Probably going to be my first dance wedding song, to be honest.

Are you going to recap Person of Interest’s sixth season?

I am going to cover it in Boob(s On Your) Tube and write at least two think pieces about it, how about that?

Discussion: Our Most Inexhaustible Source of Magic

fangirl-rainbow-rowell-spinoff

On October 6, Rainbow Rowell’s Carry On lands in bookstores and on Kindle shelves. It’s the very first book of its kind: The book that inspired the fan ficton Cath was writing about Simon and Baz in Fangirl. But the real question is: Since Cath’s fan fiction was very clearly written about a fictionalized version of Harry Potter, is Carry On going to be a Hogwarts rip-off or one of Rowell’s trademark original layered amazing super emotional stories? I really want to hear your opinion about this!

If you have an idea for a mini-essay for next month’s column, questions for Owl Post, requests for interviews, fan fiction recommendations, fandom news, or any other thing you’d like to see covered here, hit me on up on Twitter, Tumblr, or email: heather at autostraddle dot com.

Until then: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

10 Lesbian Sex Scenes I Wrote Before I Had Lesbian Sex

A long time ago, in a land far away, I worked in a tiny little cubicle in a tiny little town, counting numbers all day and pretending to be straight. I begrudgingly came out to myself but had no intention of ever coming out to anyone else. It would blow up my family! It would blow up my life! And so I would remain single; add and subtract numbers eight hours a day, five days a week; and never make anyone uncomfortable with my sexuality.

My two most secret, desperate desires were to: 1) Learn how to write something (anything!) people would want to read. I loved reading. LOVED IT. But I was terrible at writing. 2) Have sex with another woman. I thought about both of those things constantly. The sex thing slightly more than the writing thing. Then, one fateful day, all of my interests collided when I stumbled onto some lesbian fan fiction. It was women who wanted to be better writers, writing about ladies having sex with other ladies. It was heaven.

It took years before I learned to create anything that wasn’t the most embarrassing thing ever written, and even more years before I finally kissed another girl on her mouth with my mouth. That purgatory led to some of my best-worst writing ever, including these ten lesbian sex scenes I wrote before I had lesbian sex. Obviously, all of them are fan fiction.

1. “Boobs were one of life’s great mysteries.”

I love this because I wrote the literal word “boob” a hundred times, and also Anne has a fifty-foot wingspan and is built like Gumby, able to bend and stretch her body in superhuman ways. I didn’t understand sex or basic human anatomy at this point in my life, apparently.

Anne knew that Diana was married now, and she herself had pledged herself to be with Gilbert, but you had to admit that boobs were one of life’s great mysteries and Anne loved to investigate these things. She didn’t pull her hand away from Diana’s boob where Diana had placed it. She kept it there, on top of her dress.

“I’ve wanted to do this for a long time,” said Diana.

“Me too,” said Anne.

Her hand was still on Diana’s boob. How best to get Diana out of this dress? With one hand still on Diana’s boob, Anne reached around and unbuttoned her out of the back of her dress. With her hand still on Diana’s boob, she unlaced Diana’s boots. She switched her hands, still keeping one on the boob, and also was able to get Diana out of that awful corset, then her underthings. Finally, her hand was on Diana’s naked boob, and they were not such a mystery anymore.

2. “Jo had thought a lot about what it meant to be a lesbian during the Civil War.”

I think this was the very first lesbian fan fiction I wrote. I’ve never met anyone called Penelope in my life. Is that even a real name?

Jo March was a lesbian. She was a gay woman! She looked into the looking glass and said it to herself in a whisper. “I am a gay woman.” And then she said it even louder. “I am a gay woman!” Penelope appeared in the doorway, stark naked. “Prove it,” she smirked. Jo had thought a lot about what it meant to be a lesbian during the Civil War but she had not considered really that sex was going to be a part of that package. That was, until she met Penelope!

Jo, indeed, decided to prove it!

The first thing she did was to get naked so Penelope wouldn’t feel insecure. She could tell Penelope was thankful. She walked across the room to the doorway where Penelope was standing and pulled her into an embrace that led to wild kissing and pretty soon Jo March was touching her first breast! Why, she had never even touched her own breast before! Nipples were fantastic! Breasts were soft and nipples were hard, pebbly even! What a nice surprise!

Penelope also touched Jo’s breasts and they too turned pebbly.

They were on the bed then, still kissing and rubbing all over each other’s nipples. Finally, Penelope slid her luxurious thigh between Jo’s legs and that’s when Jo proved once and for all that she really was a gay woman.

3. “It felt like being beat by ocean waves — but in a good way.”

Librasexual is like when you’re into girls for sex but boys for their giant book collections, okay? It made perfect sense.

Elizabeth did love Mr. Darcy, but she also did love Charlotte. Perhaps she loved the idea of Mr. Darcy in the sense that he was quite rich and had a really extensive library, but Charlotte was the person Elizabeth was more interested in kissing and touching affectionately. They had always been more affectionate with each other than Elizabeth had been with any of her sisters. They snuggled up in the barn sometimes and read books or told stories or occasionally even gossiped. Maybe Elizabeth wasn’t bisexual or maybe she was. Maybe she was librasexual.

She would never have a nice library with Charlotte, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t have a nice time with her right now, while everyone was visiting Netherfield Park and Charlotte was here with her lips attached to Lizzie’s.

Elizabeth kissed her back, passionately and crazily! In less than five minutes, they were completely out of their dresses and straddling each other in the middle of the room where the Bennets kept their small art collection. They kept on kissing and touching each other and before Elizabeth even realized what was happening, she was climaxing. It felt like being beat by ocean waves — but in a good way. The waves crashed and crashed over her and she felt out of control like she was drowning but she knew she was safe here in Charlotte’s arms.

4. “Let’s hear it for double breasts!”

There are a LOT of numbers in this fan fiction. Janeway loves to count when she has sex. Also, I have no idea why Seven doesn’t have a belly button.

Kathryn Janeway may have been the captain of the USS Voyager, but she didn’t care too much about being in control in bed when it came to Seven of Nine. She’d helped Seven claim her humanity, that was plenty of control; plus, she flew a damn starship. “I fly a damn starship,” she accidentally said out loud.

Seven laughed. “I know you do,” she said.

“Let’s hear it for female starship captains!” Kate proclaimed, as Seven began kissing her way down her neck.

“Let’s hear it for double breasts!” Seven replied.

That really was one of the best things about lesbian sex, when you thought about it. Double breasts. Four of them, not just double. Most women had double breasts. Kate liked four together! Four nipples, two on two, pressed into each other. That was how she liked it. Two sets of lips, four hands, four nipples, two vaginas, one belly-button (because Seven didn’t have one), ten fingers and one hell of an explosive orgasm!

Sometimes even more than one orgasm, like tonight, when Seven finished her ministrations with her hands and immediately began applying them with her mouth.

5. “One again Elizabeth Bennet found herself with her hand in her pants…”

I have helpfully summed up the plot of every Jane Austen novel for you with the first line of this story. Also, please don’t read this. It will ruin your life.

If Lizzie was honest with herself, she had to admit that twice refusing Mr. Darcy’s marriage proposal was going to make her life a potential living hell. She didn’t have any money or prospects, nor did she want any prospects. The only prospect she wanted was to steal Charlotte away from that ridiculous Mr. Collins. One again Elizabeth Bennet found herself with her hand in her pants thinking of the days she and her best friend had spent some “alone time” in the barn, pretending to be in there reading but actually instead kissing each other and dry humping.

Charlotte said other girls did it but Lizzie didn’t know if that was true and she didn’t care. It felt great and she actually loved Charlotte, unlike these stupid sailors and soldiers who showed up in Meryton all the time acting like they were God’s gift because they had a uniform, one thousand a year, and were men. They were so full of themselves when they’d probably never even read a single book! Mr. Darcy was a little bit better, eventually, but he wasn’t a woman and that’s what Elizabeth Bennet craved. Not just any woman, though — her Charlotte!

Elizabeth worked her hand furiously and imagined Charlotte’s breath on her neck. Like usual, it worked. In no time, she was all finished up.

She had to think of a way to get Charlotte back from Mr. Collins… but how??

6. “Kissing girls was 99 percent better than kissing boys.”

Misandry is a common theme in my early work.

Anne didn’t have a lot of experience with kissing, but just one brush of Diana’s lips told her that kissing girls was 99 percent better than kissing boys. Girls’ lips were softer. Girls’ hands were softer. Girls were just softer, full stop. Anne was eager to know if that was true under Diana’s clothes as well, but unsure if her bosom buddy was ready to go that far. They were both adults now, and just visiting home, but if Marilla caught them, they’d be in a world of trouble. Not to mention Diana’s wanker ass husband. Oh, how Anne hated him! She wanted to run him over with a horse or with a team of horses and a carriage, but she wouldn’t think of that just now.

Instead, she concentrated on Diana’s lips gently touching her lips. These dresses were horrible. How would they ever get out of them, be with each other, and get back into them without being caught?

“Should we do this later?” Anne asked. “Perhaps we could sneak away during the church picnic?”

Diana kissed her even more ferociously. “No,” she said. “I want to do this right now!”

Anne had imagined their first time going a little bit differently, but this was okay too. Better than okay because it was Diana, even though it was hurried. They probably would sneak away during the church picnic, though, judging by the flush on Diana’s cheeks when they were finished with each other.

7. “Her orgasm was immediate thunder!”

I stand by my assertion that Jane Fairfax is the most prolific lover of all Austen heroines.

Emma had been a fool and she understood this now. All the time she spent trying to set up Jane with the men in this neighborhood, it had just been a way for her to figure out what Jane liked so Emma could become that person. When Emma told Jane this, Jane cupped Emma’s face in her hands and said, “Just be the person you are, my dear Emma. That’s who I fell in love with.”

She slipped her tongue into Emma’s mouth and her thigh between Emma’s legs, and her orgasm was immediate thunder. She’s never had anyone love her for exactly who she was before! Perhaps orgasms could be emotional too? Indeed she had just proven it!

8. “Anne was pretty goddamn sure all women liked kissing like this.”

No, but like REALLY hated Diana Berry’s husband.

Ruby Gillis had always thought she was better than Anne, just because Anne was an orphan and Ruby had so many fancy older sisters who knew everything, but here was a thing Ruby Gillis didn’t know: how to make love to a woman. And Anne sure did know, thanks to Diana. (Anne couldn’t think about Diana right now, or her shitty husband.) Anne kissed Ruby to make her stop talking. Ruby made a surprised little squeaking sound, but in a pleasant way; she liked it. Anne was pretty goddamn sure all women liked kissing like this.

Anne kissed Ruby’s neck and everywhere else while she wrestled her out of her dress, and Ruby really liked it. She giggled and thankfully stopped talking so much. Anne licked and tweaked her way around Ruby’s body, wishing it was Diana, but also not wishing it was Diana because she honestly couldn’t take much more of this push-pull, when Diana seemed determined to not actually leave her beast of a husband. Anne was here with Ruby now, though.

She said her name: Ruby, Ruby. Ruby seemed to like that. (Of course she did.)

Anne worked her way all around Ruby’s body until Ruby was a shuddering, satisfied mess in Anne’s arms.

“Your turn!” Ruby said and Anne reluctantly agreed.

9. “Talking dirty came as naturally to her as making cupcakes.”

Hello, trolley people!

Mia Thermopolis was now the adult Princess of Genovia, which meant she had a lot of responsibilities that didn’t include Lily Moscovitz. She missed Lily desperately, though, and not just as her best friend but also as her lover. Mia remembered the time they’d spent together the last time Lily was here in Genovia. She’d had to tell her grandma that Lily was sick and needed her rest in bed, when in reality Lily was just fine and they were doing other stuff in bed.

Mia wrote a letter to Lily.

These are the things I miss about you:

1. Your sweet and evil laugh.
2. Your sense of social responsibility.
3. Your lips on mine.
4. Your hands all over my body.
5. Your hands inside my body.

But she crumpled it up and threw it away because if the letter got intercepted by a spy from another country, she’d be in huge trouble. Anyway, she couldn’t talk dirty in print. Talking dirty in real life came as easy to her as making cupcakes, but writing it down took all the fun out of it. Maybe instead she could get a private jet ride to the States for a quick weekend with Lily. But of course, spies against Genovia were everywhere.

10. “I want us to take this thing to the next level, sexually.”

I don’t even know.

Every night for the rest of her life, Jo March thanked the stars for bringing the Time Machine into her life. Without it, she would never have met Jane Eyre, who had become her best friend and the love of her life. On this night, after she thanked her lucky stars, she said to Jane, “I want us to take this thing to the next level, sexually.” And reader, they did.

Follow your dreams, kittens. I get paid money to write words now.

Fan Fiction Friday: 15 Multi-Fandom Love Stories Featuring Queer Women of Color

I’ve received a handful of emails asking if I could do a round-up of fan fictions that all feature queer women of color, so I’ve spent the last few weeks exploring fandoms we’ve already covered looking for new/hidden gems, and I found quite a few! Below you’ll find Soso, Poussey, Emily Fields, Amanita, Lena Adams Foster, Luisa Alver, and the best Santana Lopez series I’ve ever read! (It’s 250,000 words; it’ll take you the whole weekend.)

I also have found an extra special treat for you: Someone pieced together Suzanne’s Time Hump Chronicles from Orange is the New Black.

somewhere else by asifcaves

Pairing: Brook Soso/Poussey Washington, Orange Is the New Black
Plot: A romantic drabble set after the season three finale.
Length: 950 words

The lake is warm like bath water. There’s a smell of sulfur in the air, but you’re not inclined to mind much. The sun has never seemed this bright, and it bakes you languid and serene, floating boneless in the water’s embrace.

A body brushes yours, then a hand, an arm. You glance over and there’s Soso, a look on her face to match yours.

You take her hand, because you feel like sharing this moment. You feel like sharing lots of things. Her fingers wrap around yours and she fits like a glove.

–

That night, Soso creeps into your bed and wedges herself between you and the brick wall. She’s so warm you can barely keep yourself from pressing up against her. You blink at her; she’s breathing heavy like she’s been running a long time.

She puts a slender hand on your cheek and kisses you soft and tender, like there’s a well of love inside her she’s desperate to share. You scoot close, tangling your legs together.

You kiss and kiss and kiss, and your mouth feels like it’s melting into hers, her tongue slides over yours and her lips are the softest things you’ve touched in a long time.

I Need Something by gunnoisesfool

Pairing: Brook Soso/Poussey Washington, Orange Is the New Black
Plot: A slow-burning multi-chapter fic that takes place in the last two episodes of season three.
Length: 14,300 words

“Your girl has guts” Watson laughed, “She is nuts but damn… Cindy is gonna love this shit.” Poussey snorted, not really caring that Soso just won Janae’s approval, keeping her focus on the tiny girl as they reached the library. “He is the one that told me to go on meds” Soso said bluntly, “He said it was to help me…” Janae helped get Soso to sit down in the back corner, almost ironically the same table that Poussey was at when she found her. “To help you?” Poussey gave the girl a questioning look before she grabbed some books, pretending that they were actually doing some sort of job. “I was depressed… No one likes me” Soso said softly, “It was… Getting to be too much.” Janae raised an eyebrow at Poussey, backing away a bit and giving her a look like if it was cool for her to leave.

Poussey just waved her off, knowing that serious conversations weren’t completely Watson’s thing, especially something like this. “Hey” She nudged Soso, sitting on the table next to her, making the girl have to look up, “First off, we like you…. Man, you just told that guy what all of us wanted to say to him and walked away without anything happen. That shit was dope.” She laughed before sitting down in the chair next to Brook, her face becoming more serious. “But… I get the whole too much thing you know? That is kind of why I went to Norma… Needed something” Poussey shrugged, looking down at her hands a bit awkwardly. “Norma made me feel better” Brook said simply, “For a short time… Before they banished me.”

“I’m sorry” Poussey blurted out, “I didn’t… If I noticed…” Soso just stared at her, making Poussey feel even worse. It wasn’t her that kicked Brook out but she didn’t do a whole lot to actually defend her. “Don’t be sorry” Soso just shook her head, “It wasn’t you….” It was Leanne but that went unsaid between the both of them. Figuring that it helped the last time she did it, Poussey looked around, knowing they were alone and then grabbed Soso’s hand. “But I get it. The need for something temporary to feel good here” She started talking, slowly, making sure that doesn’t say the wrong thing, “And… You deserved that feeling too.” Instead, she was treated awfully and Poussey squeezed her hand before letting go. It took her awhile but now she was going to do the right thing.

You Smiled (Oh And Then the Spell Was Cast) by ohcosima

Pairing: Brook Soso/Poussey Washington, Orange Is the New Black
Plot: Poussey and Soso on the outside!
Length: 2,600 words

Yesterday night Poussey had come back from work with a couple of new books and a bottle of red wine, and they had dinner using the largest box they could find as a table. They sat on the ground and shared pizza and fries, while Poussey told her about the people who frequented the bookstore she worked at.

“There was this little girl with a pile of books this high, I thought she was gonna faint or something, so I go up to her to help her and she just says like, ‘I got this, don’t worry’. I’m telling you, it hurt to watch. So I took some anyway and that’s how we were both gonna knock over some other dude with a really weird mustache. We’re about to kill him, for real.” She shoves some fries in her mouth, laughing good-heartedly.

Brook listened to her with the hugest grin on her face, imagining Poussey struggling to carry a giant pile of books. “How was your day?” Poussey asked with an interested expression.

Brook smiled shyly, still not used to her girlfriend’s genuine displays of care even after months have passed since they have made their relationship official. “I’ve been at Berdie’s today.” She was barely able to contain the excitement in her voice, as she was about to tell her something possibly life-changing.

“You have? What did she tell you?” Poussey replied, a wide grin spreading on her face.

(tell me) what you want me to say by ReginaSwan

Pairing: Luisa Alver/Rose Solano, Jane the Virgin
Plot: Rose meets and makes out with Luisa after trying hard to be straight for too long.
Length: 5,575 words

She tries to be seductive and mysterious, but you can easily see through it and the pretense falls after a few minutes in. She laughs too loud and talks about silly things and you don’t remember the last time you had such an easy and fun conversation. You realized that she’s also incredibly smart, so you talk about being a drug lord, calling it “a promising law career”, because you actually want to impress this woman. Two hours go by and you’re grabbing a taxi together and heading back to your hotel.

There’s a big party going on inside and the pool area is closed, but you sneak in together, giggling like teenagers, and sit beside each other with your feet in the water. You don’t think you’ve ever been this fascinated with a person before and you don’t understand how can you feel so strongly draw to someone you literally just met. This was absolutely not what you were expecting to happen tonight and when you tell her that she smiles. “You never know when the lightning is gonna strike and you think maybe she feels it all too.

You finally kiss and it’s all kinds of incredible, and you tell yourself that it’s just because this is the first woman you’ve kissed after months with a man, and has nothing to do with this beautiful woman that charmed you the moment you sat next to her.

You don’t believe it for even a second.

Hermana by Mary Reed (Mary_Reed)

Pairing: Amanita/Nomi Marks, Sense 8
Plot: Nita and Noomi go on their first date.
Length: 1,600 words

“Nita dear you’re going to be late for your date!”

“I know I know!” came the exasperated response. Purple dreads flipped through the air as Amanita threw yet another outfit on her bed in exasperation. The pile was rapidly reaching the ceiling as her closet became emptier and emptier. She appreciated her mother’s presence and support, but few things could calm her frazzled nerves at this point.

Nothing about the last two weeks had gone according to plan. That first day Nita had flitted through one gay bar after another, her typical Saturday night ritual, expecting to perhaps pick up some cute little thing with no strings attached for the evening. Instead, she found a shy hacktivist with wavy blonde hair and enough baggage to take down an elephant. Her initial hesitation after realizing that Nomi had not always looked the way she did now faded after the third drink, when Nomi’s inhibitions were lowered enough to allow that twinkle in her eye to shine through and blind Amanita. The wild child of a hippie mother, Nita had never spent more than fifteen minutes at a time on a computer and was wholly uninterested in them. That night she spent an hour and a half listening to Nomi ramble on about recursive algorithms without taking a breath. She wondered idly how much trouble she was in with this one.

Nomi had stumbled drunkenly to a cab and Nita had scribbled her number on the girl’s arm in sharpie with clumsy hands. Nita went home alone, slept hard in her empty bed feeling happier than she had in a long time.

let me be (your favourite star on the best night) by socallmedaisy

Pairing: Amanita/Nomi Marks, Sense 8
Plot: Amantia just wants to understand the connection Nomi has with the other Sensates.
Length: 5,600 words

The bar is too loud and too dark, but Nomi’s hand is warm on her hip, and Amanita leans into her side as they wait for the woman serving drinks to notice them, her fingers creeping under the thin material of the top Nomi wears and into the small of Nomi’s back.

“Come on,” she mutters under her breath, when the bartender’s eyes sweep up and down the woman next to them like they’re invisible before she leans over the bar to ask what she wants. “Hey, we were here first!”

The bartender ignores her, and Nomi’s hand tightens on her hip, like a warning.

“You could always make out with me,” Nomi murmurs into her ear in this way that makes Amanita smirk in response, “that’d get her attention.”

Nomi’s lips brush against the shell of her ear, and she shivers. “Hold that thought, honey,” she says and tries to lean over the bar, “until after we get a fucking drink.” She says the last part louder, as the bartender comes back with the woman’s drinks and takes her money.

“You gotta wait just like everyone else, sweetie,” the bartender says as she goes to make change, and Amanita bites back the fuck you she wants to spit after her.

Nomi gives her a look, and she huffs out a breath, not wanting this to ruin their night.

It’s the first time they’ve actually been out of the apartment since all the stuff with Riley and the three sleepless nights Nomi had spent hunched over her computer sending sightings of Riley and Will to various police stations around the world, muttering to herself as she’d arranged cars and trains to get them the hell out of dodge.

Not Yet by Helena_of_the_Woods

Pairing: Amanita/Nomi Marks, Sense 8
Plot: A sexy morning time drabble.
Length: 1,000 words

Nomi hummed softly as she woke up to the feeling of someone rubbing her back, feeling herself arch contentedly underneath her girlfriend’s fingers. The sun was shining lazily through the window, she could hear the coffee maker gurgling, Will had successfully saved Riley from Whispers (and vice versa), and everything was right and perfect in the world. Nomi probably couldn’t have imagined a better morning, all things considered.

Well, there was just one thing…

“Wake up, Sunshine,” Amanita whispered, hands moving up to rub Nomi’s shoulders as she planted a kiss on Nomi’s cheek. “I’m getting breakfast ready.” Nomi let out a small groan as she stretched to wake up the rest of her body.

“If you hadn’t said that, I would be trying to convince to get back in bed with me.” Nomi said as she sat upright to face her girlfriend. She looked Amanita up and down flirtatiously, “In fact, I might try that after breakfast.”

Amanita giggled, “I bet you will,” she said as she moved off the bed and towards their kitchen, a slight sway to her hips. Nomi smiled the same dopey, in-love smile she knew stretched across her face whenever Amanita did things like this, whether those things be making breakfast or helping her hack into BPO’s servers. Nomi rolled out of bed and did her best to fix her hair while walking into the kitchen, though she was sure she was only making it worse.

Eureka by valleyforgedown

Pairing: Emily/Paige, Pretty Little Liars
Plot: A sweet multi-chapter Paily AU starting with them meeting when they’re just little kids.
Length: 49,000 words

“Paigey, how many times do I need to tell you to slow down and actually chew your food? We could take an x-ray right now and probably find a whole chunk of bacon in your tummy, not even chewed up!” He couldn’t help but guffaw at his daughter’s constant energy. Last year for Christmas, he and Liz snuck a pack of Energizer batteries in Paige’s stocking. After they explained the joke to her through tears of laughter, Paige had scrunched up her nose and retorted, “I don’t need these. They need me!” More laughter ensued after that.

Finally able to breathe, Paige giggled and washed everything down with juice. “I’m done! When’s Em gonna get here?”

“Ten minutes. Hurry and go-”

Paige flew up the stairs, missing the rest Nick had said. Unable to take the stairs two at a time (yet), she scrambled up on all fours, channeling her inner dog. Once in the bathroom, she set her Scooby-Doo timer for three minutes and proceeded to brush her teeth until it went off. Tossing the toothbrush carelessly into the cup holder, she raked her brush through her hair, taking care to make sure her bangs were in order. They were new, something she insisted on over the summer. They were cut low, brushing her eyebrows. Her hair had a slight wave to it, which gave the overall look a messy feel. Oh well. Satisfied with her work, Paige settled on her bed, Pumbaa in her lap. She waited, listening carefully for the sound of a car engine. This lasted two minutes before she jumped up and stood by the window facing the street. Where was her mom? Emily

Gravity by OfEndlessWonder

Pairing: Emily/Alison, Pretty Little Liars
Plot: Slow burn Emison!
Length: 82,000 words

She waits for Alison in her room.

She knows where the spare key is, had snuck into the house earlier that evening and just… waited. It had gotten dark around her, the sun setting and dusk settling in, but she hadn’t moved from the centre of the blonde’s bed, where still she sits cross-legged with the photos spread out around her, her evidence of Alison’s betrayal.

She can’t stop herself from looking at them, and it feels like a stab to the heart each and every time she does, and she hates it, hates that she’s jealous because she has no right, she has no claim to Alison DiLaurentis and she clearly never had, and she probably never will.

And yet she can’t stop the pain that floods her chest every time her eyes land on the picture in-front of her, the one where Noel’s hands are on Alison’s waist, and Alison’s are on his shoulders, and they’re kissing.

She remembers seeing it for the first time, pulling it out of that damn envelope and she hates A most of all, in all of this, for orchestrating her finding them, for knowing that seeing them would hurt her far worse than anything else A had ever done to her in the past.

When the front door finally, finally opens she starts to regret coming over here in the first place – she’s avoided Ali since she’d left this room the other night, had skipped two days of school with Hanna before Spencer had quite literally dragged the two of them out of the house that morning, and she’d done well at being everywhere that Ali wasn’t, with Hanna’s (unquestioning) help.

And then she’d found the pictures, and she’d been so… mad. Hot, seething fury that had slid through her veins and made her hands shake, because how dare Alison have kissed her back, how dare she let Emily believe that a single thing had changed, when she was off making out with Noel Kahn when Emily wasn’t looking?

Grey Magic by leonhart_17

Pairing: Callie/Arizona, Grey’s Anatomy
Plot: Calzona Harry Potter AU!
Length: 37,000 words

It was barely one in the afternoon on the third day of September, the cold still crisp in the air, and Arizona Robbins lost her breath beneath a fist in her gut. Her swinging retaliation blow was caught by a strong hand before it could land, arms pulling her away from the scuffle. Alex Karev, her best friend and fellow Slytherin, was visible only by the green fringed tail of his scarf beneath a pile of black and red, flashes of gold.

Drawn unwillingly out of the fight, Arizona’s hand reached for her wand. The same hand stopped her and she turned a furious glare on her older brother Tim. “Stop,” he ordered brusquely, two fingers in her face in the way that always made him look like their father.

“But Alex -” He grunted from under the dogpile and Arizona tried to lunge forward again, foiled by Tim’s grip on the back of her robes.

“Let me,” he denied her, wading into the fracas himself. He freed Alex but caught a fist to the teeth for his trouble.

The Head Boy spitting out a mouthful of blood stopped the fight as quickly and completely as though he’d cast a spell. The rustle of dried, crunchy leaves against the stones of the courtyard was the only sound and Tim let the moment stretch and grow taut before he broke it. “Ten points from Gryffindor and Slytherin,” he announced, firm glare keeping anyone from protesting. “Anyone that needs healing go. But there’s no excuse for being late to your next class, so hurry up.”

Arizona and Alex, both bruised and bleeding, exchanged wordless looks and started toward the Astronomy Tower together. Tim caught up in two long strides. “We’re fine,” Arizona groused, sending a look over her shoulder at him even as she wiped a busted lip on the sleeve of her robes. “We don’t need an escort.”

“That’s debatable,” Tim countered with a laugh. “It’s the second day of school and you’re already getting into fights. Do you two want to get banned from Quidditch before the season even starts?”

Life in Technicolor Book 1 by leonhart_17

Pairing: Callie/Arizona, Grey’s Anatomy
Plot: Set in the world of Seattle Grace, but in a timeline where everything didn’t go so wrong for Callie and Arizona.
Length: 70,000 words

Arizona Robbins knew before she opened her eyes that she was naked. And by the feel of the cushions underneath her, naked on her couch. What the… Fuzzy memories started floating to the surface, a few snapping back into sharp focus when she opened her eyes to find a stunning (from behind at least) and equally naked woman on the floor beside her sofa. Olive skin over curves that were to die for, all topped off with seemingly endless waves of dark hair. And from what she was able to remember, freaking dynamite in bed. Not that they’d actually made it to the bed, judging by the state of her living room. Pillows were scattered around the floor as well as clothes and a few knick-knacks they’d managed to knock to the ground, books and candles and her mother’s favorite lamp that she was glad to see wasn’t broken.

A look at the clock over the mantle had her shooting up and looking for her clothes. She was late. And on her first day as an attending. Shit, shit, shit. Another look at the truly luscious ass that belonged to the woman on the floor and she had to pause, take a moment. Being late was completely worth it. And last night, more of it coming back to her as the haze of the hangover waned and the headache started to set in, had been the perfect way to celebrate her promotion. Tequila had sure as hell done her a favor the night before.

Just as she found her shirt and pulled it over her shoulders, her mystery woman stirred, sitting up and stretching. And behold, her front was even better than her back. She smiled sleepily as she stretched, looking around for her clothing, one hand tousling her hair.

“Hey.” Her voice was husky and positively the sexiest thing Arizona had ever heard. Except for that voice calling her name the night before. The memory of that was going to keep her distracted all day.

“Hey…” Arizona smiled, finding the Latina’s shirt on the back of the couch and tossing it to her. “Um…” She could remember exactly how this woman tasted, but her name was escaping her at the moment.

“Callie,” the brunette provided, a completely charming smile on her lips.

That triggered a memory and Arizona grinned, buttoning up her shirt. “Calliope.”

The Beach, a Boat, and a Bottle of Rum by fembuck

Pairing: Eleanor Guthrie/Max, Black Sails
Plot: Eleanor is having a bad day, but Max is determined to cheer her up.
Length: 6,000 words

Raising her glass to her lips, Eleanor tossed the rest of the amber liquid back and then poured herself around round, her mind once again turning to her fucking father and the endless stream of fucking lies that flowed from his fucking mouth. Richard Guthrie was, had been, and always would be an unreliable fucking fuck. Eleanor knew this, and yet she still wanted to believe, she still let herself believe him every goddamn time. It was pathetic, absolutely pathetic. She disgusted herself. She was no better than the ridiculous beardless boys who believed Noonan’s whores when they told them that they had never seen bigger or had better. She was…

“You keep glaring at that drink so hard and the Royal Navy will think you have forsaken her for another.”

The space beside Eleanor filled with colour as Max’s musical voice drifted towards her ears, and despite her terrible mood, Eleanor felt her lips begin to curve into a smile as Max settled on the stool beside her.

“Oh, the British have nothing to fear,” Eleanor breathed out, swiveling around on her stool so that she was facing Max. “I’ve got a big heart,” she grinned. “There’s more than enough space to loathe two things at once. Depending on the size of Flint’s shipment when he deigns to grace our shores again, there might even be room for a third.”

“Always looking at the glass as half full, you,” Max replied softly, her voice equal parts sarcastic and chiding as she glanced over at Eleanor.

Wondrous Love by fembuck

Pairing: Eleanor Guthrie/Max, Black Sails
Plot: Eleanor and Max are business acquaintances but could be so much more.
Length: 19,000 words

The silence that descended over the room once Eleanor had entered and Max had pulled the doors shut was a tense one. At one time, when Max’s room had been home to her, Eleanor would have gone over to the bed and sat herself on it without a thought. But now she felt an interloper in the space and was unsure what to do with herself, so, she stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, watching Max with furtive longing as Max bent down to open the bottom drawer of her dresser.

“I thought we’d finished that off,” Eleanor commented when Max stood up and turned around, making visible to Eleanor what she had retrieved from the dresser drawer.

Max held two glasses, and a bottle of Calvados that Eleanor had given to her year ago after liberating it from a secret stash her father had left behind when he moved to Harbour Island.

“Almost, but not quite,” Max replied with a small smile as she took at sat at her table. She then turned to look at Eleanor and waved her wrist at the chair opposite her, inviting Eleanor to sit down. “We started it together. We can retire it together tonight,” Max breathed out as Eleanor joined her.

Max set the glasses down and the room became quiet again as Eleanor watched her pour.

“What did you want to say?” Max slid one of the glasses over to Eleanor.

Eleanor gazed at her contemplatively, and then she picked up her glass and swiftly downed two-thirds of it.

Max took a small sip of hers and kept her gaze firmly on Eleanor.

“Not long ago, you bade me speak and I did not,” Eleanor began, placing her glass down. “This silence has been a constant failing of mine, before our parting and since.”

Just Passing Through by shipofpromises

Pairing: Stef/Lena, The Fosters
Plot: A Fosters prequel!
Length: 13,000 words

Lena was seriously deflated. A red flush filled her skin. Stef had to place her in the back of her squad car “Civilians can’t ride up front.” she had told her. Lena slouched down as far as she could, so nobody in her neighbourhood would see her.

“Is this the one?” Stef asked, stopping outside the small yellow house.

“Yeah, c’mon let’s get inside. You think you can fit through a window?” Lena asked jumping out of the cop car.

“What?!” Stef exclaimed, jumping out and chasing after her up the drive.

“Well how else are we going to get inside? I’ve got no keys!”

“Oh my god… do you not have a boyfriend or something to do this kind of stuff?” Stef asked, as they walked around toward the back of the house.

“Erm no… no boyfriend.” Lena stopped in her tracks. “No… girlfriend more like.” she cringed inside, she didn’t know why she was telling Stef all this. She almost felt like it was her turn to spill the beans, after all Stef had been more than forth coming about her own “situation” when they had done the tour of the school last week.

Stef looked at her strangely.

“I’m so sorry, I probably… I don’t know why I told you that…” Lena stuttered.

“How could anyone that looks like this” Stef gestured up and down at Lena “be single!” she smiled.

Lena was relieved. She was even more relieved when they found an open window.

Eyes Closed to Fingers Crossed by thememoriesfire

Pairing: Santana and Brittany, and Santana and Rachel, but ultimately just really, really good Santana. Glee
Plot: A multi-story series that follows Santana from her junior year of high school out into the real world.
Length: 248,000 words

So, she dumps Sam. It’s not like that wasn’t going to happen anyway; she mostly just started dating him to piss Quinn off, and since that’s having about zero effect there’s no point. He might be on the football team, but the football team is plain up nothing without the Cheerios, so Santana can’t figure out any more reasons to put up with Sam.

She makes sure to do it somewhere public, tosses in as many insults about his face and technique as she possibly can, and then adds that she’d rather go back to screwing Puck, at which point Sam just looks too shocked to even say anything.

On a scale of one to success, she’s always been awesome at getting rid of fodder. This is no different, which is why it’s so fucking insane that Quinn comes to find her in the girls’ bathroom about fifteen minutes later.

“I know we’re not friends,” she says, and Santana just rolls her eyes – it’s not even worthy a ‘duh’, and besides, she doesn’t want to start reapplying her lipstick, “but someone has to ask. What the hell is going on with you?”

Santana presses her lips together twice, then blots them with tissue and finally bins the tissue before turning to Quinn. “What part of ‘we’re not friends’ is overcrowding your puny brain, exactly?”

“Sam’s a nice guy,” Quinn says. She hesitates for a moment and then adds, “He’s not for me, but I don’t really see what would be wrong with him for you.”

Santana sighs and says, “Look, I don’t even want to be talking to you, but if you’re going to stand here to tell me that Fishlips was going to be the love of my life, I think we should probably be asking if you’re okay instead.”

There’s a little bit of old Quinn in the way that she straightens and says, blithely, “Please. Nobody’s talking about love. I just don’t understand why you’d get rid of…”

Santana loses her patience when Quinn just stares at her – it’s like Sam’s guppy expression is infecting the rest of the Glee club or something. “Get rid of what? Just another piece of high school meat whose name I won’t even remember by the time I’m like, twenty two?”

Quinn somehow doesn’t flinch when she finishes her sentence. “No. I don’t see why you’d get rid of the perfect beard.”

Why can’t I find any Suzanne Warren/Maureen fic, y’all?

Fan Fiction Friday: Accio Harry Potter Femslash!

It’s probably not surprising to hear that I’m a Harry Potter purist. I dabbled in fan fiction between books, but while my sister could go all in on, say, Harry and Draco, I could only ever make myself read or write strictly canonical pairings inside J.K. Rowling’s world. I had actually never even read a non-canon Harry Potter story until six days ago! Side-stepping the (apparently enormous) McGonagall/Hermione and Bellatrix/Hermione fandoms, I actually landed on some really, really sweet stuff. Hermione and Luna: It just makes so much sense!

So, in honor of our new column, Witch Hunt, I give you Harry Potter femslash!

Finding the Center by wasureneba

Pairing: Hermione/Luna
Plot: During Deathly Hallows, Hermione realizes she’s got a real thing for Luna Lovegood.

The second week she spent at Shell Cottage brought her the first spell of peace she’d felt since the wedding. She made a habit of sitting out on a promontory near the cottage, feeling the sea air whip through her hair. She always snuck away, some time when Ron and Harry weren’t looking; she was tired of looking at their worry, she realized, and the questions in their eyes. Sometimes Luna came out and sat with her. She never started conversation, but sometimes she sang, Cornish songs she said her mother had taught her when she was little. “My mum came from Tinworth,” she’d said simply, proudly. “Tintagel, the Muggles call it.”

Late one afternoon, when Luna had just finished a song (Muy lowen yu’n tus ma es myghtern po’n gos ughel, she sang, and her light voice tripped over the words like a lark), Hermione turned towards her. “How do you do it, Luna?” she asked.

“Do I, really?” Luna returned.

They sat in silence for a while. The sun was beginning to set, lowering over the ocean; the waves broke salty against the promontory.

“Do the songs help?”

“Every moment that passes.”

Hermione Granger and the Amazing Outfits of Luna Lovegood by likeadeuce

Pairing: Hermione/Luna
Plot: Hermione falls for Luna during Half-Blood Prince.

In truth, Hermione was thankful for anything that interrupted Parvati and Katie’s snogfest. She wasn’t about to say that, though. It would have been mean and unfair and insensitive and a lot of other things that Hermione knew she didn’t want to be. It wasn’t their fault that she had chosen the Girls’ Lounge for her (self-imposed but mandatory) Evening Relaxation Period precisely because she didn’t want to have to sit around awkwardly watching other people kiss. Hermione wanted to be sensitive and supportive and respectful of her other peoples’ lifestyles, just like she’d learned from her parents long before she’d come to Hogwarts. But that didn’t give them free rein to be mean about Luna, who after all was only. . .well, what was she doing?

“We could always ask her,” Hermione said.

“It’s her business.” Ginny spoke with the resolve of the youngest girl from a houseful of boys, who knew that every time you could do something and just be let alone was a gift. Hermione understood that, but in the end, she decided that if you really didn’t understand why someone was doing what she was doing, there wasn’t any harm in asking.

“I’m going to ask.” Hermione put down her magazine. She stood, stretched her arms out behind her, and walked over to Luna. None of the others followed.

A few feet away from the other girl, Hermione stopped, crouched down on the balls of her feet, and said, “Luna.”

Luna turned her head slowly, fixed her eyes on Hermione, and looked at her for a long moment in silence. Across the room, Parvati giggled. Otherwise, it was quiet until Luna wrinkled her nose and made a distinctly non-human sound. It was something less than a roar, but more than a meow, and whatever it was, seemed to ask a question. Hermione jumped just a little, and since she was already crouching, went sprawling on her back on the stone floor.

Crazy Little Things by dreiser

Pairing: Hermione/Luna
Plot: 100,000 words of Luna romancing Hermione at University of Magical Studies and Theory.

It was her sophomore year at University and Hermione had been in the library studying Ancient Runes when Luna Lovegood first approached her. One moment she was reading page 1,007 of her textbook with the utmost interest and the next she heard a soft sigh and felt the warm exhale of breath on her neck and her name murmured softly. Whirling around, she was met with the sight of Luna wearing a dreamy expression, her eyes half closed, as she pulled her face away from Hermione’s curly head of hair.

“Luna!” Hermione exclaimed, instinctively grabbing her hair and pulling it over one shoulder, far from the blonde and her nose. She heard a sharp shushing noise from a fellow student and noticed several interested stares and she blushed heavily, lowering her voice significantly as she said, “What are you doing here?”

“The nose knows,” replied Luna, her voice airy. Her hand floated forward and her fingertips were able to lightly caress Hermione’s hair before the older girl hurriedly scooted backwards and away from her touch.

“The nose knows what?” questioned Hermione irritably. Honestly, it was things like this that made her dislike dealing with Luna. Those odd moments of utter and frank honesty the blonde had never applied to Hermione. Instead she got nothing but mysterious phrasings and ridiculous theories. And now, apparently, hair sniffing.

“I’m here to study, of course,” said Luna, deciding for whatever reason to answer Hermione’s first question.

For the first time since their odd conversation began, Hermione focused on the pile of books in front of Luna. They were various magical medical texts and Hermione frowned ever so slightly, looking at the girl with a bit of disbelief. “You’re a Student Healer?” Hermione did her best to keep the surprise out of her voice but it was difficult. Simply put, the Student Healer program was perhaps the most difficult to enter in the University, it had the smallest number of openings, and the heads of the program were a bit pompous in their need to keep it considered the best in the wizarding world. For some time they had tried to recruit Hermione but she refused, finding far more interest in the subject of Ancient Runes. Though, now that she thought about it, Luna had been in Ravenclaw at Hogwarts. And one didn’t exactly get into that house for having a pretty face. Intelligence mattered most there. “I never knew you wanted to be a healer.”

“You never asked,” said Luna simply.

Imperfection by FayJay

Pairing: Hermione/Ginny
Plot: Hermione wonders if she’s been pining after the wrong Weasley.

She probably wouldn’t have talked about it at all, if Ginny hadn’t caught her sneaking out of Ron’s room afterwards.

Hermione could feel herself blushing as soon as she caught sight of the pyjama-clad Ginny approaching with a half-full glass of water, and for a moment she nearly ducked back into Ron’s bedroom. But Ginny had seen her already. It would be childish to hide, and Hermione was definitely not a child, so she stuck out her chin and dared Ginny to make something of it.

“Morning,” was all Ginny said, smiling Ron’s easy smile.

Hermione tried to appear casual, but she was painfully conscious that she must look and smell like someone who had just spent several hours getting hot and sweaty and exchanging bodily fluids under a duvet. This was not one of her more dignified moments. “I’m just – that is – we were – I – um.” She stumbled to a halt, and gave a slightly choked laugh as her eyes met Ginny’s.

The smile broadened. “Yes, so I see. Not before time – I thought he was going to die of frustration.” She sipped at the water, then looked Hermione up and down with an amused expression. “Don’t worry, Mum and Dad won’t be up for another hour or so. See you later.” And Ginny had sauntered off to her own room and left it at that. Hermione wasn’t sure whether to be more embarrassed at the fact that Ginny knew she’d finally lost her virginity, or at the fact that she’d taken such an unfashionably long time to get around to it.

There was definitely something wrong, she reflected, when she was once more in her own neatly-made bed, about remembering Ginny’s knowing smile more clearly than Ron’s.

Five Times Ginny Asked Hermione To Marry Her by icerose92

Pairing: Hermione/Ginny
Plot: It takes Ginny a little while to get Hermione to agree to marry her.

Hermione faces you and you snap your mouth closed. She cocks an eyebrow curiously, but decides to let your painfully obvious gawking go. “So, Ronald’s told me all about you.”

Your heart flutters, but you need to be subtle…you can’t have another gawking incident. “None of it’s true.”

She giggles. “He tells me you’re an excellent spell caster.”

You’re a tad suspicious, but your heart swells (and so does your ego, but whatever) nonetheless and you grin. “Really? Ron said that?”

“Well,” she says, making the most adorable face you’ve ever seen. “Not in so many words. But he’s told me all of the…wonderful spells you’ve cast on your brothers.”

“It’s nothing compared to what I bet you can do.”

She smiles at you. “I’d like to see your handiwork sometime.”

You think this is a fantastic start. You have a common ground (hexing the boys) to work with, and at least she’s smiling (damn she’s gorgeous) and doesn’t hate you. You finally yawn and stretch. “Maybe tomorrow.” You’re only half joking. “Goodnight, Hermione.”

“Sweet dreams.”

The Letter by burning_arrow

Pairing: Hermione/Ginny
Plot: Three years after the Battle of Hogwarts, Ginny runs into Hermione for the first time.

Ginny opened the door of the private suite as quietly as she could muster. Given that she wanted to nothing more than to fling it open and rush into the room, this was a feat of willpower on her part. Her hand trembled on the doorknob, not knowing what she would find in the room beyond.

Ginny’s eyes went straight to the pale, frail figure lying unnaturally still in the bed. The white sheets and pillows seemed to engulf Hermione’s small frame, only her bushy curls pushing back against the white expanse threatening to swallow her. Hermione’s skin was sallow, and beads of fever sweat dotted her forehead. Tears flooded Ginny’s eyes at the sight. No matter how mad she’d been at Hermione, she never wanted something like this to happen. She never expected to see Hermione so vulnerable. The Hermione she remembered, the young woman who had been her best friend, had been so strong, so…so…alive.

“Ginny?”

Ginny started at the unexpected voice, and then goggled at the two people sitting beside Hermione’s bed. “Mum? Ron? What are you doing here?”

“Same thing you are, I imagine,” answered Ron. He stood to give her a hug, but his expression was pinched with worry. Molly Weasley’s face looked, if possible, even more concerned than Ron’s as she squeezed Ginny tightly in her embrace.

“Your father sent Ron for me as soon as he heard,” explained Molly, taking her seat next to Hermione again. She picked up Hermione’s limp hand in one of her own. “He’ll be here soon himself. I thought we’d need to let you know, but your father said that one of Hermione’s colleagues had gone to get you already.”

“She’s been asking for you, Gin,” said Ron softly, his expression unreadable.

“That’s what Mr. Hodges, Hermione’s coworker, said,” she answered lamely. She didn’t know what else to say. Her eyes were drawn once more to Hermione and confusion roiled her insides. Before, she couldn’t think about anything other than getting here, but now that she was here it seemed all very strange. After all, she hadn’t spoken a word to Hermione for so long. It seemed a bit odd that she’d be the one Hermione would ask for now.

This Is Where by Kicon

Pairing: Lavender Brown/Parvati Patil
Plot: The Harry Potter series through the eyes of Lavender and Parvati. (There’s a companion Dean/Seamus piece!)

Parvati and Padma remained silent on the boat ride up to the castle. They’d happened to be in the same boat as the Irish boy who’d run from the compartment earlier, and guilt had run through Parvati at the sight of him. He’d greeted them politely, though, and then chatted animatedly to the black boy beside him the whole way up to the castle.

They remained silent as they walked up a rock passageway and were handed off to a fierce witch in green robes. They remained silent as the witch took them to a room and explained all about the houses. They remained silent as other students broke into worried whispers about how they were going to be sorted.

Someone bumped into Parvati and caused her to stumble into Padma.

“Oh, sorry,” said a high voice.

It was the girl with the pink bow who’d looked in on the compartment earlier, but she showed no sign of recognition as she gave Parvati a small, apologetic smile.

“I’m, um, I’m Lavender. Lavender Brown,” she said, nervously tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “And you?”

Parvati swallowed. “Um – ”

Padma had let go of Parvati’s hand and was now gripping her wrist very tightly, warning her not to speak, not to break the silence. But Parvati wanted to break the silence. She didn’t want ostracize themselves away from the people they were going to live with for seven years.

“I’m – ”

A few screams sounded from behind them, and Parvati was interrupted by the arrival of some ghosts gliding into the room. She scoffed to herself. It figured. She was going to try to introduce herself again but then the witch had returned and told them to get in a line.

The Sorting Ceremony was about to begin.

Girls with Short Hair Who Play Quidditch by azurish

Pairing: Ginny/Luna
Plot: Ginny gets an alternative lifestyle haircut.

Ginny plopped down next to Hermione and fiddled with a blade of grass for a few moments, tugging it this way and that before finally plucking it out of the soil altogether. Without looking up from the green stems, she spoke. “I want to cut my hair really short.”

“All right. Any reason why?”

Ginny frowned and pulled up half a dozen more blades of grass before responding. “I dunno. I just – it might look nice. I always wanted short hair when I was little – it’s what happens when you have lots of brothers, I think. Now that I’m older, I figure I can do what I want.” Just a little defensively, she added, “It be really useful, too – it’d keep my hair out of the way during Quidditch.”

“Well, if you have all these reasons for it – what’s stopping you? There’re charms you can do for it. I can teach you how to use them.”

“Ron’s right,” Ginny said glumly. “Mum would kill someone. Probably first him, then me.”

Hermione gave a half-shrug. “She won’t see it until Christmas, and besides, you’re old enough that you’re right: you can do what you want. She’s learned to live with Bill’s ponytail. She’ll get over it.”

Ginny fiddled with the grass for a while. “It’s stupid,” she said, at last.

“Hmm?”

“I dunno. All of it.”

Hermione, with nothing to say in response, simply sat in silence. After a few moments, she put an arm around Ginny’s shoulder. The younger girl almost shrugged it off, but then just sighed and let it sit there.

“Careful,” Ginny said, at last. “People will talk if they see you like that with me.”

“I don’t really care.”

I hope you’ll recommend some good stories for me in the comments. I’m weirdly brand new to this whole thing. I’d love to read about a lesbian Tonks!

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