#feedback requests | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

passerkirbius · 10 months

Text

Where are all the Audio Fiction Fandoms?

To be clear, this isn't me complaining, and I know, there are plenty of fandoms for audio fiction podcasts and the like.

But I have always found it weird how few shows get the big, self-sustaining kinds of fandoms, the ones where there's always at least a little trickle of fanfic and fanart. So weird, in fact, that I've been thinking about it on and off for the last 5-6 years, and I have a few theories I'd like to share with y'all as to why, and to see if I can't get some feedback from the audio fiction fans on Tumblr.

Theory 1: Audience Size

The first theory is mostly about demographics - fundamentally, a fandom has to be large enough to sustain itself, and only a certain number of audience members are going to become the kind of fans who make fan works, so ultimately, an audio fiction show needs to get popular enough before fan works start appearing.

There's plenty of support for this theory, of course - Welcome to Night Vale, Wolf 359, The Adventure Zone and The Magnus Archives are titans in the fiction podcast space, and indeed they have big fandoms. But, with that said, there's plenty of other podcasts that are just as big that don't have fandoms, so this can't explain it all.

Theory 2: Audience Distance

This one is similar to the first, but subtly different. A few creators in the space I've talked to have noted that they'd never make fan works of their friend's shows - that feels weird, like deliberately treading on their friend's work. They don't have this feeling when playing in big fandoms, or fandoms where they don't know the creator. This implies to me that fans need a certain level of distance from creators in order to feel comfortable playing with that fictional space. While this is less the case now with the fall of Twitter, a lot of shows, for better or worse, used social media as the primary pillar of their marketing, as well as using Patreons with special access as part of their monetization strategies.

In short, it's never been easier to get close to the creators of your favourite shows, and for smaller shows, the most exuberant fans - the kinds who might make fan works - are also the kinds of fans who will take those opportunities to get closer to the creators. In short, there just might not enough social distance for fans to be comfortable creating works, not at least until the audience grows sufficiently that a creator simply cannot be that close with their entire audience.

This theory I'm not so sure about these days - this one is probably a lot more dependent on the generation of fandom you belong to. Older generations of fandom are more likely to have this queasiness around creator closeness, because they were creating in a time where fandom was a shadow realm, desperately hidden from The Powers That Be, and "No Copyright Infringement Intended" was carved into fan works as an eldritch attempt at legal protection.

Theory 3: Audience Age

To be clear - there are fans of all ages out there. But it is clear to me that fandom trends young, and part of that is just the time needed to participate in fan culture - creating and consuming takes a lot of time, time that tends gets scarcer and scarcer as you get older (there are obvious exceptions of course - stay-at-home mothers have consistently been a major force in fandoms!). It's possible that audio fiction fans just tend to trend older, and thus don't have the time available to create and consume fan works.

Honestly, I'm not sure how relevant this one is - Audio fiction is becoming more popular with younger audiences and slowly shedding the "old fuddy-duddyness" that surrounded it when I was first getting into the space. And, ya know, there are audio fiction fandoms out there, so obviously either the youth aspect of fandom isn't a thing, or it is, but audio fiction audiences are still trending young anyway.

Theory 4: We're getting what we need!

A lot of academic discourse often focuses on the idea that fandoms create for a reason - and that reason is often to focus on parts of a fiction that the original text, for whatever reason, doesn't. The most obvious form of this is the many, many, many examples of ships and erotic fanfiction. You, as a fan, watch a show, see something between two characters, and get frustrated that the show isn't giving you more of that, won't make what is clearly obvious to you, explicit. So, you consume and/or create fan works that help relieve that tension instead.

Or, in shows where the focus is primarily on plot advancement or action, you feel a desire to get to know the characters better - you see the stirrings of these characters, you want to know them better, but the show just isn't the type of show to give you that slow, character-heavy scene/episode that you know would give you exactly what you need, so, again, you go consume and/or create fan works to fix that.

It's very possible that a lot of audio fiction is already built to give these sorts of fan audiences what they want. There's already romantic relationships, characters are openly queer, the nature of the audio medium means that character-heavy scenes are something that the medium directs creators towards, so there's already a lot of character engagement. So, for many fandoms, there just isn't much need to create fan works - there's no tension between what the show is and what it could be.

Theory 5: We can make our own at home!

One interesting theory is that one reason that people make fandom is because, fundamentally, the creators understand that they're not going to be making a film, or a TV show, or a book. They have creative urges, and they're not in a situation in life where they're likely to overcome the enormous barriers to entry in mainstream media, so, in combination with the stuff in theory 4, they play in other people's worlds instead. They know that there's already an audience who will consume their work (they're part of that fan community, after all!), so they can get that validation of creation without needing to create their own TV show or film or book, etc.

Podcasts, however, are different. Now, it's not true to say that podcasts have low barriers to entry - to create a podcast, there's a lot of skills you either need to learn yourself, or find collaborators with those skills. But, those barriers to entry are much lower than visual media. At the very least, audio production is significantly cheaper and less complicated for an equivalent runtime.

Better, podcasts have absurdly low barriers to publication - There are no gatekeepers to satisfy, no distributors you have to convince. Once your thing is made, pretty much no one can stop you from distributing that work. You don't even really need to pay for a podcast host - there's a few free podcast hosts now. So, once you've done the work, pretty much nothing stops you from publishing said work.

So... If you're a creative fan, who loved a show but thinks you can do better? Well, you can! You don't need to play in other people's spaces, you can be inspired by the podcasts you listen to to create your own original work, in the same medium and genre.

What do y'all think? Which of these feel right, which of these feel obviously wrong? Are you part of a audio fiction fandom? What does your fandom feel like to you on the inside? As a audio fiction creator, it's kinda hard for me to get into the inside of fandom culture, so insider perspectives would be super neat for me, so please reblog this to anyone you feel might have an interesting perspective on the whole thing!

#audio fiction #audio drama #podcasts #fiction podcasts #welcome to night vale #the magnus archives #tma #wtnv #podcast theory #fandom #audience feedback requested!#taz #the adventure zone #wolf 359 #fandom meta #fandom culture

332 notes · View notes

dockett · 1 year

Text

So Alive II Joel Miller x Reader

The first time you laid your eyes on Joel, you knew something felt... different.

Warnings: gunshot wound, stitches, explicit content 18+, soft!joel, oral/fingering f!receiving, p in v, unprotected sex, minors dni.

Word count: 3.1k

Something had sparked in you the first time you saw Joel Miller. You could feel the heat swirl up through your body, like the world was begging you to open up. Begging you to connect. Begging you to invite this man in. You didn't know if you could.

But something in you wanted to try.

It was the end of June, and it was hot. Hotter than you had remembered it being the year before. Joel rode beside you, he always did. You never acknowledged that you liked his closeness to you.

Patrol that day was standard, riding to a nearby abandoned settlement for supplies, and was going decently without a hitch, until it wasn't. Shots were fired, and then Joel was falling back off of his horse hitting the ground hard. He gasped, the wind being knocked out of him, and in an instant you were off your horse, skidding to a halt on the ground beside him.

The other members of the patrol dealt with the situation, riding for cover. The shootout began, and took only a few minutes to disperse. You couldn't care about that, even though you knew you should've. All you could focus on was Joel, blood starting to seep through his shirt. You swallowed, your hands shaky. You went to start unbuttoning his shirt, trying to assess the damage, but his other hand stopped you.

“‘M fine,” he muttered, grabbing your arm as his eyes trained on you. You shook your head.

“Joel, you are certainly not fine.”

He stared at you, and then slowly but surely released his grip on your wrist. He nodded. You got to work.

•••

He had leaned on you, one arm wrapped around your middle as you rode back to Jackson. You were acutely aware of him, telling yourself it was because you didn't want him to fall off. He was shaky.

You escorted him to the medical center personally, and when they pulled him back to stitch him up, he asked you to come with him. How could you have said no?

He had a stoic expression as they stitched up his wounds. The bullet cut clean through his left trapezius muscle, skimming over the top of his collarbone. His hand twitched and he glanced at you. His eyes were unreadable.

Your quick fix of wrapping gauze around his wounds after he had fallen off his horse had saved him a lot of blood loss, they told you. You just felt he was lucky to be alive. If the gunman’s aim had been any better, Joel wouldn't have lived. The thought chilled you, making goosebumps rise on your arms. You didn't like it, the idea of bringing back a body instead of a living man. Especially with it being Joel.

They gave him a sling to wear, instructing him to give the injury time to heal. You could tell he hated it. He just nodded his head at the nurses, and they shuffled out of the room. You stepped towards him then, as he stood from the bed. His shirt was still unbuttoned.

“How are you feeling?” You asked.

“Like I got kicked by a horse,” he replied, trying to feed the button through the hole at the top of his shirt. He growled in frustration when he failed.

“Let me.”

He did. You buttoned his shirt for him, top to bottom. “Dunno how I'm gonna get out of this later,” he murmured.

“We'll cross that bridge when we get there,” you chirped. “Let's go get you something to eat, and some rest.”

He cocked an eyebrow at you, but followed you all the same.

•••

The next few weeks were difficult for Joel. He couldn't lift anything, or reach above him with his left arm, so he ended up spending most of his time with you at the stables while you cleaned out stalls and groomed the horses. You enjoyed this job, much more than when they put you on patrols. Horses were easier on you.

Joel wasn't much of a talker at first but neither were you. You enjoyed the company all the same. As his range of motion got better, and the sling finally became a thing of the past, he would help you with what he could.

“My uncle had a ranch,” he told you one day as he groomed. You were cleaning the stall. It had become a routine, you do the heavy lifting and he gets the horses cleaned while haltered just outside the stall. It worked for both of you. “Used to go there every weekend with Tommy up until I was a teenager.”

He patted the horse on the neck as he brushed over its back. “Never really thought I'd ride again.”

You nodded, leaning against the pitchfork as you wiped your sweating brow with the back of your arm. You had grown up around horses, your family owning a ranch out in butt fuck nowhere Utah. “I'm glad I get to work with them here,” you said. “Reminds me of home.”

Joel patted the horse again, a small smile pulling at his lips. “Me, too.”

You smiled at the sight. You always tucked these little moments away, somewhere deep in your memory where you would access them late at night. Joel liked horses. Joel missed football. Joel wasn't always the best cook, but he liked to barbecue. Joel was protective of his family. And most of all, Joel liked you.

•••

Joel was livid. Why? You didn't know, but you could see it all over him when he opened the door. You could hear it in his tone.

“Now, what did I—” he stopped. It was only you. You swallowed, suddenly very on edge.

“Hi, uh… I can—I can come back another time.”

“No,” he responded, reaching to grab your shoulder as you step away. You pause, unsure of yourself. His hackles were starting to lower. He took a deep breath. “Please.”

Please.

You slowly nodded your head and stepped inside. He closed and locked the door behind you, and then without a word walked around you and into the kitchen. You followed. A beautiful aroma was wafting through the air, and you could hear Joel muttering to himself as he lifted a lid off the pot on the stove.

You were hesitant to say anything. You didn't want to push the already angry man. Against better judgment you asked, “What's for dinner?”

He didn't turn to face you. “Stew,” he said, putting the lid back on. “Only has a few more minutes. I was plannin’ on bringin’ you some.”

You felt your cheeks warm. He had been thinking about you, and more specifically, thinking about bringing you something he made. You felt a soft smile pull at your lips. “That's kind of you.”

He grunted, and then looked over his shoulder at you. “At the door–I–well… Tommy and Maria just left.”

You knew from your small conversations that Joel didn't like Maria. Maria didn't like Joel. Something must've happened between the two, you assumed, and decided not to push. Instead you walked closer to him, resting a hand on his shoulder.

“You alright?”

He closed his eyes, sighing and then bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “It'll be fine.”

You nodded, opening your mouth to say something before your stomach growled loudly. Joel chuckled, turning to face you. “Someone's hungry.”

You could feel yourself blush as you glanced away. His finger was there, hooking under your chin and pulling your face back towards him. “Hey now,” he said, a sudden softness in his eyes. His lips parted, and then closed, like he couldn't figure out what to say. His hand moved, cupping your cheek. The other went to grab your hip. You felt stiff in his arms. It was happening so quickly—maybe too quickly. He leaned forward, his nose bumping yours and asked, “Can I?”

You felt yourself nod, and you swallowed thickly. All of the residual anger left his body as he leaned further into you, meeting your lips with his own. He was incredibly soft in his actions. He kissed you with a gentleness you didn't expect, and you couldn't help but sigh and bring your arms up to wrap around his middle as he held you in place.

He pulled back, and you leaned into him until he broke away completely. He was breathing hard and so were you. He kept his hands on you, brushing your cheek with his thumb.

“Let's eat,” he said with a small and genuine smile. You nodded, giving him a bright smile of your own.

The stew was delicious and at the first bite you teared up. Your hand was on the table, under his, and he squeezed it tightly when he saw them bubbling up in your eyes. “Hey,” he murmured. “You alright?”

You nodded, feeling embarrassed. “Yes, sorry… it tastes like my mom’s.”

He slowly nodded back. “I used to make it for Tommy and… well. It was about the only damn thing I could make.”

He gave you a watery smile. It clicked in your brain, tonight must've been important for Joel to go out of his way to make something, especially something that clearly was nostalgic for him. You took another bite, savoring the memories it was bringing you, too.

The two of you ate in silence, his hand not leaving yours.

He took your bowl when you were done, putting it in the sink. You stayed sitting at the table as he got the food put away in the fridge. It was weird to watch him. It felt strangely domestic—strangely normal. Even with all the pain and loss you had experienced, moments like this made the world worth living for.

Joel walked back over to you, extending his hand to offer to help you stand. You took it and he pulled you up against him, planting another kiss on your lips. Your hands looped around the back of his neck.

“You can say no,” he mumbled against your lips. “But if you want to come up to the bedroom with me, I'd sure like that.”

You thought about the implication there. Joining Joel in the bedroom with no one else home. Your body tingled. Maybe it's what you both needed. You kissed him back with fervor before saying, “Okay.”

He stepped away, your hands slid down to his chest. His heart was pounding hard and fast under his shirt. He was nervous, you could see it in his eyes, feel it in the way his heart beat. He grabbed your hand with his, and led you upstairs.

He sat down on the bed, his hands on your hips as he looked up at you. You stood between his legs, one hand on his right shoulder and the other behind his head, and you kissed him. Hard. He moaned into your mouth, and you gulped it down, feeling feverish. Your mouth opened when his tongue swiped over your bottom lip, and he invaded greedily. He was taking what was his.

And you let him, your tongues caressing and exploring each other. He pulled away from you, and you whined in protest. He looked at you through hooded eyes, licking his lips. It made a wetness pool between your thighs as you looked down, seeing a string of saliva connecting the two of you.

You felt encouraged, a fire blossoming in your chest. You brought your knees up onto the bed, straddling him. His hands came to your sides, running up and down them before squeezing your breasts. You gasped, arching your back into him. He grumbled about needing to get your shirt off, and in a heartbeat you were pulling it off over your head along with your bra.

His lips found your nipple immediately, hot and sizzling on your skin. He sucked and pulled, working it with his tongue. You couldn't stop the moans he pulled from you, his large hands on your bare back searing into you. Your hands tangled in his hair, gripping tight enough that it probably stung. He groaned against you, vibrating into you. The sound went straight to your abdomen, causing tendrils of heat to grip your body. You shook in his arms.

Almost unnoticeably, he shook, too.

He released your nipple with a loud ‘pop!’ and he kissed up your neck before rolling you both. You landed on your back, and he kissed his way down your sternum and soft stomach. You twitched under each touch. He grabbed the button and fly of your jeans, undoing them and pulling them off. You squirmed as he looked at you, fully aware of his gaze raking over your body.

“You're beautiful,” he whispered, kissing your thigh as he settled between them. You felt your cheeks burn. Getting complimented by the gruff man made your toes curl.

“Thank you,” you whispered back, fingers sliding back into his hair.

He hummed as he took off your panties. You laid your head back, and he breathed against you. “Hey, look at me.”

You gasped as he licked through your folds and then you looked down at him like he asked of you. He hardly even blinked, drinking you in as he tasted you. Your eyebrows furrowed as he set a pace and pattern, swirling his tongue across your clit.

Your grip on his hair tightened, legs jerking, when he slid a thick finger into your pussy, sinking it knuckle deep and curling it. Another followed, causing you to groan his name. He hummed again, sucking your clit into his mouth.

Joel's fingers curled, and then he pumped them in and out of you. Your hips bucked off the bed in response. His other hand came searching, reaching up for your nipple. He pinched it and rolled it between his thumb and index finger.

“Fuck you taste so damn good,” he growled. “Such a good girl.”

You clenched around his fingers in response, the praise going to your head and making you grin. Your head dropped back into the pillows as he continued his devoted and yet ruthless momentum. Your body tightened, like a coil ready to spring. You breathed harder, his name dripping from your lips over and over like honey. You grabbed onto him tighter, your heels digging into his back.

“Cum,” he demanded, rutting his lower body into the bed. “Cum on my fingers, show me what a good girl you are.”

Three more passes with his tongue and two more pumps of his fingers, and you were crashing into your orgasm. Joel groaned, almost louder than you, as you tightened around him. Your thighs slammed closed around his head as your other hand shot to the bed, bunching up the blanket under you. You bucked, you writhed, you cried his name, and your heart beat so hard in your chest you were sure he could hear it.

He slowly pulled away from you as you came down, still twitching and whimpering. He smirked at you, licking his lips. Your wetness was all over his beard and mustache, and you shuddered as he climbed up. He positioned himself between your legs, the denim strained by how hard he was. He shifted his hips against you as he kissed you, making sure you tasted yourself on his lips.

“Joel,” you whined when he pulled his lips away. “Get out of these.”

You grabbed his ass through his jeans, and he sat up, undoing the buttons of his shirt. He let it slide off of his shoulders and discarded it across the room. He made quick work if his pants, too, and then he was naked before you. His cock was curved up, swollen and thick, and he grabbed it with his hand, giving it a few pumps.

“You ready?” He asked, touching your bruised clit with the head of his dick. You trembled, shaking like a leaf under him, but nodded all the same. He pushed himself into you slowly, giving you both time to adjust. He hissed out a small, “F-fuck.”

Your hands shot to his arms, gripping them tightly as the pain of the large man stretching you open brought a lump to your throat. He leaned over you, keeping your head on his left side as he kissed and nuzzled your throat. “Mmm, so tight. You're doin’ such a good job for me.”

You arched your back as he fully seated himself. You both breathed hard as he began to shift his hips back and forth. Your fingers dug into him, squeezing his arms tightly as he began to move harder and faster. The bed creaked underneath you as the sound of his body meeting yours echoed through the room.

He pulled his face away from your neck, looking down at you with eyes that burned into yours. Your eyebrows furrowed, your nails beginning to leave red trails across his skin before he sat up, your hands falling to your sides. He grabbed under your knees, pulling your legs up and over his shoulders.

He leaned down again, pain sparked in your thighs at the delicious stretch, and you cried out louder and louder as he pounded into you. He hit so much deeper than before at this angle, pressing into just the right spots that had your legs trembling.

Your next orgasm tore through you so hard and fast and that you couldn't even register Joel anymore. You were gone, floating in the pops of color that surrounded your vision when you closed your eyes. Your body tightened around him over and over again, forcing him to slow down.

As you came down, you gulped in air, trying to tether yourself back to the physical world. His hips began snapping into you again, and your legs fell off of his shoulders. He wrapped them around his hips instead. His hand came to your cheek, thumb brushing just under your eye.

“Good girl,” he murmured.

You couldn't even form words, so instead you moaned in appreciation. His thrusts were heavy, slow and deep, pushing himself into you completely, and when he finally came, he pressed his forehead to yours and whimpered your name.

Your hands found his sides and back, nails sliding across his ribs as he filled you up, his whole body jerking before finally relaxing against you. He sighed as you felt his heart beat, pounding against your chest, and then he kissed your temple before pulling out and rolling over next to you.

You smiled to yourself as you looked at him, his eyes closed as he laid on his back. You felt completely satiated by him, and as you rolled over to cuddle close, you felt that spark from the first time you'd laid eyes on him.

You were glad you tried.

#joel tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #tlou #joel miller x y/n #the last of us #joel miller x you #tlou fanfiction #oneshot #feedback welcome #requests welcome #dockett1109

574 notes · View notes