#and so many fanfics who took my critique on board and are like 'i can fix this!' just cinemasins the shit out of him

[detectivenyx]

i hate cinemasins so much you would not believe

#it's an easy formula. i get it. #ha ha plot hole! it must be bad because plot hole! #[plot hole is intentional and explained 10 minutes later] #[plot hole contributes to themes of film] #[plot hole is not actually plot hole if you employ even the most rudimentary of reading between the lines] #[plot hole is thing unimportant to the scene as a whole] #it lets you feel smart without actually having to put the legwork in #'smart' isn't even the right word. 'mildly observant'. #but because of this fucking loser and his stupid little ding sound effect #films have to be spelled out for people or they'll go 'OOOOGH PLOTHOEL????' #'WHY THEY SHOOT THE DOG AT START OF DAS DING? PLOTHOLE DING' #'WHY NO CONCRETE ANSWER FOR QUESTION PROPOSED BY TEXT? DINGGGG' #[THINK!!!!! THINK DAMN YOU!!!!!!! THINK FOR YOURSELF!!!!!!!!!!] #if your critique could be easily slotted into a cinemasins video go back and think about WHY #is it a question answered by the text??? #and im more frustrated it took THIS LONG to repair my brain scorching! #even with kokichi's critique video im not happy with it because i did go back and look at him closer #i still don't fucking like him or think he was very well executed but i understand exactly why he was executed the way he was #and so many fanfics who took my critique on board and are like 'i can fix this!' just cinemasins the shit out of him #he needs Standard Character Arc and he must be A Hero #NO!! #you missed even the point i was making back then!!! #it was that his redemption was completely arbitrary! and though it didn't do it well it was intended to poke fun at EXACTLY THAT! #the The Villain Needs Redemption because that shit was all the fucking rage and people were doing it shit! #and it all goes back to this jackass and his stupid monotone voice and his attempts to enable a generation of media illiteracy! #and it WORKED! our ability to analyse narrative got fucking sacrificed on the altar for His Paycheck #and he's a shitbag who makes fun of women with breast cancer #long post

[whattheheehaw]

Hi! I’m sorry you’re getting shitty anons about this and you’re probably sick of it so I apologise for asking this but I’m genuinely curious what made you start actively disliking zutara? Like, considering how much excellent and insightful content/meta you yourself used to make/write? I get that interests change over time and you’re totally valid!! the anons sending you hate over it are really dumb, but if you’d be ok with sharing, I’d be really interested in hearing why you’ve done almost a complete 180 on the ship? Was is just burnout/end of a hyper-obsession? Or was it some of us in the rest of the fandom that turned you off? Or was it even something about the ship/characters themselves that you changed your mind about? xx

In short, it was a combination of burnout, dissatisfaction with fandom, and disappointment in myself that caused my disinterest for Zvtara.

I got asks similar to this one a couple of times before, but I never gave a comprehensive answer, mainly because I didn't know how to articulate my reasons why I don't like it anymore. But now that I've been out of ZK fandom for a month and have had some time to reflect, I think I can give a much more thorough response. Beware, this is long and I heavily critique the Zvtara fandom, so if you're a ZK shipper, keep reading at your own risk.

My first minor annoyance with Zvtara is that the fandom has a tendency to idolize certain fics and creators. And while there’s certainly nothing inherently wrong about that, I feel like the Zvtara fandom does it to such an extent that it influences the type of content that content creators make in order to get recognition. And to illustrate my point, I’m going to talk about one of the most famous Zvtara fics of all time: Once Around The Sun by eleventy7.

Don’t get me wrong, I love OATS. I think it’s a great fanfic and I think the author devoted a lot of time and effort to make it such an excellent fic. The plot, the development of the characters and their relationships to one other, and the messages about family and love were all brilliantly written. I mean, there is a reason why it’s regarded as the “Zvtara Bible”. This one fanfic had such a profound impact upon the ZK fandom, and I think the biggest impact that came from it is the dramatic influx of post-war Zvtara AU fanfiction. 

Because so many people kept reading OATS and recommending it to others, I think there was an overall interest in ZK fics that take place in a post-war setting. And I think that all of the high praise towards OATS made more fic writers start to write post-war fanfics because of this demand for post-war AU.* I normally wouldn't complain about it because more content is more content, but in my opinion, 99% of ZK post-war fics are the same fic but in different fonts.

Like, there's at least 3 of these elements in every ZK post-war fanfic:

Ambassador Katara

An assassination attempt (usually on Zuko's life)

A healing scene between Zuko and Katara (usually Katara heals Zuko)

Aang and/or Mai is pushed to the side or vilified to some extent in order to make ZK happen

A private journey between Zuko and Katara to facilitate #6

S L O W B U R N (that's not really slowburn and more like "I love you and I very much want to be vocal about my feelings but #7 is in this fic" but the love story takes up like 30 chapters so I guess it's a slowburn?)

Zuko's advisers don't want him to get married to Katara because ✨racism✨

Ursa is found

Azula is in the fic because a) she's going to get a healing arc ft. Zuko and Katara and thereby helps them get together or b) she's the villain and thereby helps them get together

ZK wedding happens in the FN

After reading multiple post-war fics back to back, I could tell that the format was pretty much the same across the board, which isn't very interesting for me to read. My only other fic options in the Zvtara tag on AO3 are canon divergence fics which almost always take place during The Crossroads of Destiny or after The Southern Raiders. And to some extent, those stories are pretty much the same too. There's nothing really new or creative going on in the ZK fandom fic-wise, and because of that, my interest in ZK fandom started to dwindle.

My second issue with Zvtara is that it's a very old ship from a very old show. Because there's been 10+ years since the end of A:TLA, every nuanced point about shipping and the show itself have been talked to death.** There's just nothing new to say. It's the same arguments being rehashed over and over again in the tag because there's no other interpretation one can come up with.

For example, there's so many people who talk about why Zvtara as depicted in The Southern Raiders is not toxic and that's great and all, but I (and most likely many others) have read those same points about five times already. And for some reason, each time this happens, people act like someone just discovered the lost city of Atlantis when they bring up their new-but-not-new argument in defense of Zvtara. Honestly, I'm ashamed to say that I'm not exempt from being part of the group of people that reiterate old arguments. I've done it with one of my posts about The Southern Raiders and I've done it again with my Zutara/Omashu parallels post.

There's no new content to really dissect and analyze (especially considering Zuko and Katara are rarely in the same panel in any of the post-war comics), and because of this, people are just restating points that someone else made several years ago.*** And even if someone did have a different interpretation of an episode, their ideas would most likely be shut down because for the past several years, the same interpretation has been recycled through the fandom repeatedly and people are resistant to new perspectives.

This brings me to the third thing that I dislike about Zvtara: the insistence that there can only be one way to interpret The Southern Raiders. For the longest time, I've read take after take that said if Katara decided to kill Yon Rha, it would be ok because that's her grief to deal with and if she thinks that's the best way to mete out justice, then good for her. And again, I'm ashamed to say that I perpetuated that idea in a few of my own posts. I have always thought that "Katara killing Yon Rha is ok" is just a bad take in general, but I didn't want to vocalize that opinion when so many people—so many of the nice mutuals that I made—all shared that same opinion. Taking down a popular opinion of your own ship is completely different from taking down a popular opinion of a ship that you dislike. The Zvtara fandom is the first fandom that I was actually active in and I wanted to fit in so badly with everyone else that I just parroted whatever other people said, even if I didn't agree with those sentiments.

This leads me to my final reason why I don't want to be a part of ZK fandom anymore. I think I established myself as a "meta" person pretty early on and because of that, I constantly felt pressured to come up with new takes on the ship. And when people started flooding my ask box with stuff like "Can you write a meta about your thoughts on the idea that 'Zuko only took Katara on that field trip in TSR because he wanted her to forgive him'?" and "What are your thoughts about antis saying Zuko and Katara are toxic because of TSR?", I realized that I don't need to come up with new takes. People just want me to paraphrase something that 10 other people said about the same exact topic, because if I said what I actually thought about the subject (i.e. there is some truth in what antis say about TSR and it's not as much of a "Zvtara episode" that most people make it out to be), I'd probably get ZK shippers in the replies telling me that I'm wrong because x, y, and z or "you shouldn't tag this as Zvtara".

And that was pretty much how my love for ZK turned into disinterest. I was and still am disappointed that I didn't stick to my personal opinions. For as much as I talk about herd mentality on Twitter, I certainly don't practice what I preach. In all honesty, the only reason why I held on so long to ZK fandom was because I had so many nice mutuals there and we all shared this collective distaste for antis. I think I started to become more anti-Zvkka and anti-Kataang than pro-Zvtara, which isn't what I wanted to do when I made this Tumblr blog.

The thing that made me joke about becoming anti-Zvtara was the fact that some ZK shippers just like to send shitty anons to people whom they've reblogged countless different metas from. Sending shitty anons to people in the first place is wrong, but sending them to people who tagged their posts correctly and did nothing wrong is just disgusting.

*I'm not a fic writer and can't speak for fic writers, but it definitely feels like a lot of ZK fic authors are pushing themselves to write the next OATS, and by doing so, they are proliferating the tag with post-war fics that have very similar aspects to OATS.

**I think that as more people point out the same nuanced points about Zvtara, it diminishes the actual significance of those points. Like, it's hard to explain but the more people talk about the subtleties of the ship, the more those parts become glaringly obvious and I become numb to their actual impact on the characters and the show.

***At this point, if someone wanted to make a new argument about Zvtara, I think they would have to look very closely at every little detail in every single one of their scenes together to find a crumb of new meta material. And speaking from experience, it's not very fun trying to make a mountain out of a molehill. Whenever I post a "meta" like that, I feel like I'm reaching to make a point that doesn't exist.

#anti zutara #anonymous #ask and ye shall receive

[mandrs-writes]

My Writing Advice

Ever since I was a little girl, I wanted to be a writer. I vividly remember writing stories about my dog way back when I was seven years old. And when I was eleven I was bold enough to think I could write my own novel and sent drafts to my older cousin for editing. Writing was my life, my escape, my passion. And it still is. But I haven’t always had a good relationship with it.

When I turned thirteen, I struggled severely with undiagnosed depression and anxiety. High school was terrible for me. All that passion I felt for writing? Gone. It wasn’t until I was older, that I was diagnosed with depression and began taking antidepressants. At the time, I was attending college to become a nurse, which was literally just a crapshoot because I didn’t have a clue what I wanted to do with my life. Finally though, I came to the realization again that English, or writing, was more my passion. So I changed majors.

I graduated with a bachelor’s degree in English literature with a focus in creative writing. Now, I know what you’re thinking. “Wow! You probably wrote a lot during college!” Wrong. While I did write a lot of thesis papers, did a short stint in poetry, I think I wrote one short story for my fiction workshop. But other than that? Nothing. I don’t know when it happened, but I developed a severe fear of writing.

What is a fear of writing, you ask? Honestly, I don’t know. All I know is, I would write something and get literal anxiety over it because I hated it that much. I would agonize over every little detail until I was ripping my hair out. I despised my writing, something I used to be so passionate about, it was now something that caused me great distress.

Why am I sharing this with you? Well, as some of you know, I am now a very active fanfic writer for ereri. I update roughly two fics a week and sometimes I sprinkle a one shot in there if I’m feeling sassy. So how did someone like me, someone who used to agonize over my writing, go from hating every detail of it, to sometimes pumping out roughly 10k words a week and actually enjoy my writing?

While I am no expert on writing, I want to share my advice, regardless. I’ve come into contact with so many great writers who I know struggle with similar things that I once did, and sometimes still do (I’m far from perfect). Here are some tips I have when it comes to writing. I hope it helps:

Get in the right headspace. Clear your area of any and all distractions. Lock yourself out of social media, turn off your phone, kick your significant other out of the house— whatever that looks like for you, just create the perfect space for you to create. Any distractions could easily pull you out of your creative mindset and ruin your flow. I personally always work in my living room, away from my desktop because I just know I’ll play video games if I try to write in my office. I find the perfect playlist for the scene I’m writing (I seriously have so many playlists for writing. If you don’t have Spotify premium for playlist making, I seriously suggest you get it), sometimes put a Pinterest aesthetic board up in the background, and just get to it. My fiancé knows when I’m writing not to bother me and he stays in the other room. Make sure you establish clear boundaries with your housemates when you’re writing. Interruptions can sometimes not be pretty. 

Once you’re in the right headspace, JUST WRITE! Seriously, I know it sounds like a no brainer, but it’s a lot easier said than done. Whatever is in your head, just write it out. It doesn’t matter if it’s good or bad, silly or irrelevant. Just write it. Writing and editing are two very different beasts, and when you’re in writing mode you need to focus ONLY on writing. Again, I know this sounds very obvious, but I know from experience that this is much harder than it sounds. My best suggestion is to find a writing partner to do sprints with. Set a timer for 20 minutes and see how much you can write in that time frame. When you’re writing with a friend, it becomes a challenge to see who can write the most in that 20 minute time. You’d be surprised what you can do in that short amount of time. And what you write might actually be amazing! I know I’ve surprised myself on more than one occasion writing like this.

Keep editing and writing separate. I mentioned this earlier but it’s so important that you do this. Our brains work differently when we edit and write. When we write, we put our heads into a creative mindset where we are inspired to create and expand on new ideas. However, when we edit, our brain slips into an analytical mindset which is great for critiquing and finding errors but TERRIBLE for creation! That’s why you MUST keep these two things separate. Believe me, I know this is hard to do. I used to be SO SO SO bad at this. I would write a paragraph, go back and read it, edit it, and rip it apart. My confidence would be shot, and I wouldn’t be able to write anything else for that session. Eventually, I forced myself out of this bad habit with lots and lots of practice (again, writing sprints are AMAZING for this!). You might think that what you’re writing isn’t any good and you might be itching to go back and read it and fix it. But I assure it, it’s probably A LOT better than you think it is. Leave it alone. Let it sit. And when you’ve finished writing your chapter, let it sit even longer. Don’t touch it for another 12 hours. I’m serious. When you have a fresh pair of eyes and your brain is in the analytical mindset, THAT’S when you should be editing. 

Always carry something with you to write your ideas down. Whether it’s your phone or notebook and pen, always be ready to write down an idea! Sometimes a juicy idea or thought will come to you at an unexpected time like in the shower, while you’re driving, or while you’re trying to fall asleep. That idea WANTS to be written down! Whenever I’m laying in bed, thinking about my stories, I’ll grab my phone and write down a line or phrase or idea that pops into my head. It might not make sense, but my brain is trying to get it out on paper so that’s exactly what I do. I might not use it, but at least it’s there if it does end up being good!

Find a friend/beta reader to read your stuff. And I’m not just saying this for editing purposes. No, I’m saying this for confidence purposes. I’ve always struggled with self-doubt. Like I said before, I struggle severely with depression and anxiety, and sometimes I get into really bad slumps with my writing where I think I’m the worst writer there ever was. My imposter syndrome flares up and I wonder what the hell I’m even doing with myself. Luckily, I have a friend and beta reader who refuses to let me falter when times are hard. And maybe we don’t beta read each other’s works in a traditional sense (I don’t really know how a normal beta reader behaves, to be honest). What I do know is, my friend will leave interactive comments throughout my whole chapter, commenting on what she likes, what she thinks works really well or what could be better. Having her interact with my chapter and tell me what is good and what isn’t, significantly boosts my confidence and makes me feel loads better about my writing. Honestly, if it wasn’t for her, I probably would’ve given up on writing by now. But it’s reassuring knowing my number one fan is always rooting for me on the sidelines. Get yourself a fan that roots for you, too.

There’s no such thing as too many ideas. I always hear people say ‘I have too many ideas. I don’t know what to do with them’. I know what you can do with them… WRITE THEM DOWN, SILLY. If you have inspiration for an idea, WRITE IT. I know you might feel like you have too many projects and that might stress you out. And if you are stressed by the amount of wips you have then maybe you should set some aside. But if you feel a great amount of inspiration for a new idea when you already have another idea in the works, write it anyway. Whatever you do, do not squander that inspiration! That idea wants to be written. Even if you don’t think you’ll do anything with it, it’s great practice and if the inspiration is there, it should be relatively easy to get the idea out on paper. I’ve written multiple chapter fics before because I had so much inspiration for the idea and then never posted them. I was so overcome with inspiration that I just NEEDED to write them. So I did. Maybe I’ll go back to them and finish them one day when the inspiration strikes me. And if I don’t, that’s okay. It’s good practice to listen to your inspiration and use it as it comes. Stifling your inspiration will only hurt you in the long run.

That’s pretty much all the advice I’ve got. This might be a little rambly and I’m sorry for that. I literally was just thinking about this last night and wanted to get my thoughts out so that I could maybe help some people that are in similar situations that I once was a year ago. If you want to write, but you don’t think you can, just do it anyway. Writing takes practice. It’s not something you can master on the first go. It took me almost a year to find my writing voice and I’m still developing it as I go. Don’t get discouraged. If this is something you want, you can do it! Just write!

#writing #my writing #writing advice #text post #i hope this helps #advice

[magpiefngrl]

17) if you could give your fledgling author self any advice, what would it be?

Thanks for the ask! 

What people want to do with their writing differs. Some write for fun, to have a laugh with the rest of the fandom/community; it’s a hobby. Some are trying to see if they’ve got what it takes to become professional writers; some just like the ship and have no interest beyond that. They’re all valid reasons to write. My advice is to the kind of fledgling author I used to be, the one who wanted to be a professional and wanted their writing to be decent, and it’s this:

Read a lot

Write a lot

Step out of your comfort zone

Attend workshops/read writing guides/be open to critique 

[discussion under the cut ‘cause it’s looooooong]

1. Read a lot

It goes without saying; reading is what feeds a writer. I did a travel writing workshop once and the editor told us that he could always tell from someone’s writing what they’d been reading. What one reads the most comes through in one’s writing whether they intend it or not. This “or not” is why I’ve been vigilant ever since to avoid reading anything that I don’t want to be influenced by: gossip mags, for instance, or run-of-the-mill urban fantasy.

As for fic writers, I’d suggest reading the best examples of writing in your fandom. Read them often and try to see what it is about them that you love and you’d like to emulate: is it the banter? The prose? The UST and emotions? The plot? How did the author do it? Tip #4 below helps with that.

I’d also strongly advise resisting the temptation to read only fic. Like the editor above, now I can usually tell if an author has been consuming only fanfic, because the sentences sound familiar. Fanfic can be restrictive when it’s the only thing you consume. People like to rail against published books on tumblr, but as someone who actually wants to be published one day, that attitude irritates me. It’s also false. There’s a ton of marvellous stuff out there, books from people from all over the world, books with great prose or great plot, books from marginalised authors, classics that are classics for a reason, new authors doing incredible stuff. 

tl;dr: read the best writing you can get your hands on (incl. published books) as often as you can

2. Write a lot

This also goes without saying. Writing is a skill; the more you practice, the better you become at it. Fic is amazing for it! You practice writing plot, dialogue, characterisation, description. You might insert on original character or two.

At the beginning, a new writer’s output might not be as amazing as what they’d like it to be, but recognising that it’s not there yet is actually a huge step in improving. So write loads, and don’t be afraid to write things no one will see. Set a word count target (you could join a community such as @gywo​) and try to reach that target. It could be 300 words a day or 2k words every weekend or a total of 12k a month, whatever works for you. Make writing a habit. Ask people here to prompt you, write off-the-cuff. Some of it won’t be great – to you. But there’ll always be a reader who loves the quick drabble you wrote. And even if the post goes unnoticed, move on. Write the next drabble/fic, and then the next. Just keep writing and keep making it the best you can.

tl;dr: write your arse off

3. Step out of your comfort zone

This tip isn’t one you usually see in these kinds of lists, but to me it’s an important one. What I mean is that complacency can be a writer’s biggest enemy. Say you’ve reached a decent writing level, you’ve got some readers, you’re having fun writing your fics. They’re becoming popular so you think you’re doing something right and write some more in the same vein. This is all good, but it might also lead to stagnation.

Stepping out of your comfort zone shakes things up. This advice relates to the other tips. First, read something that you normally avoid, esp. if people are saying it’s a fantastic piece of writing. My thinking is that if X fic has rave reviews but happens to be mpreg (which I loathe), the benefits of being exposed to the great writing outweigh the mpreg–and I can always skim through that part. Do consider your triggers if you have any and look after yourself, but also don’t confuse them with dislikes. 

Reading outside your genre is a great way to shake things up: if you’re into Eighth-Year drarry, read them as fifty-year-olds. If you only read Auror case fics, read a smoking-hot PWP or an achingly-cute domestic drarry. If the books you buy are all adult sci-fi, try this contemporary YA everyone’s been raving about. Read poetry, if you don’t! Even if you don’t get it. Just read it, consider the word choices and put it aside. You don’t have to read outside your comfort zone all the time, but try to do it with some regularity and make sure you choose great quality works. 

Same with writing: if you write in one genre, try writing a story in another. Maybe you’ll fuck it up. No one needs to see it. At least you’ve tried. This is where workshops or writing exercises come in handy. Recently I took part in one where some drarry authors wrote a paragraph with sentences up to seven words, and another that was only one sentence. Imagine writing a 200-word sentence! You’ll probably never use it in your life, but it’s such a great way to practise sentence structure and see the effect it has on tone and pacing. Prompts can help as well: some of the AU prompts I received were things I longed to write, but others were harder. Some I fucked up. But I wrote a flower shop fic for a friend, which is something I’d never in my life write willingly lol, and it turned out wonderful and it’s actually become very popular. I’m currently writing a historical AU, which is def outside my comfort zone, and it’s taking me ages, but it also forces me to examine it from all angles to find how to make it work for me, and that means I get to learn a bit more about writer-me. 

Writing outside your comfort zone is also about writing things that might make you emotional. Natalie Goldberg’s writing book (mentioned above) was one of the first I read and it’s influenced me a great deal: she says that when you feel choked up or upset or emotional while writing a scene, keep writing. You’ve tapped into a vein. Digging deep in a character’s psyche might make you uncomfortable, sure; it means digging deep inside yourself and some dark parts of you that you might not necessarily like. Keep going. For me, that’s what pushes someone’s writing from good to amazing. It’s why some fics stand out, get recced loads and are lauded, even if they don’t have a huge amount of kudos.

tl;dr: read books outside your genre, do writing exercises and write things that make you emotional 

4. Attend workshops/read writing guides/be open to critique

Let me repeat that this is advice for people who want their writing to be better and who possibly want to go pro. If you’re writing as a hobby, you needn’t pay attention to this. For the rest: learning the technical aspects of the craft can make a huge difference in your writing.

At first, you might enjoy a fic and not know why. Workshops and writing guides can help you identify what it is you liked. You’ll be able to examine a novel with a different eye when you’re familiar with the 3-act structure rather than go “wow, the pacing was amazing, I couldn’t put this down, but I don’t know why”.

There are dozens of writing guides out there. After reading more than thirty, I can confirm they get repetitive after a while. But read a couple of them, at the very least. Check if your library has: Writing Down the Bones by Natalie Goldberg, Steering the Craft by Ursula Le Guin (though I wouldn��t rec this one if you’re completely new), On Writing by King, Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott (which is also really funny). 

Attending a workshop/accepting critique is the hardest to arrange. It requires other people, you can’t read it or borrow it from your library. Now, I’ve heard from people who attended creative writing seminars that they were in class with a bunch of idiots who had strong opinions as to what’s literature and what’s not. If that’s something you’d rather not face, then there are creative writing MOOCs around where people are kinder and more supportive. I’ve taken several and am a huge advocate of them. You can audit a MOOC (watch the video with the lecture, do the reading, skip the assignment) but participating will help the most. You might get 1-2 or even 15 people commenting on your work, telling you what worked and what didn’t. Some common elements will arise: perhaps everyone liked the dialogue, but many felt the description was lacking. It’s not a pleasant feeling, but you’ll have a clearer idea of what works and what doesn’t. Examining each piece of critique and seeing if you agree or not with it is a big step in improving.

Having your work betaed is of course the number one thing you can do to improve, and having a good beta is invaluable–and not always easy to find. Try to find a good beta. Finally, If you’re in a fandom community, see if you can arrange a workshop thing with your friends. Just make sure that you’re all on board with critiquing each other’s writing with kindness, but also not just squeeing. Squeeing can take place with critiquing, it’s not mutually exclusive. 

tl;dr: learn the technical aspects of the craft and learn to accept critique

Thanks for the ask! I hope you don’t mind such a detailed answer :))

#writing advice #writing #writeblr #writing tips #my craft or sullen art #asks #i think i'll copy this on my wordpress

[sheppardsmckay]

The Sun Will Shine Again

Warnings: Strong Violence, Torture, Mentions of Torture, Major Characters Death

Summary: Loki faces his biggest challenge yet as he is forced to decide between death and his brother in a story with two endings

Word Count: 9.4k+

A/N: This is my first posted fanfic so I’m pretty nervous. I started writing on this since I saw Infinity War (April 27) so this has been a definite work in progress but it is my baby. This is also a story with two endings, one good one not-so-much. Apologies for the length. Critiques are welcome.

….on his burning funeral ship while the Gods weep on the strand - The Death of Baldur,  Norse Mythology

And perhaps (because gods are not as others, and death is not always permanent for them) for a god’s eventual return. -  Neil Gaiman’s Norse Mythology

“If you were here, I might even hug you,” Thor said, tossing the mirror at his brother.

Loki snatched it out of the air with a smile. “I’m here.”

A look of surprise mingling with joy came over Thor’s face. He walked over to his brother and, for the first time in what seemed eons, he wrapped his arms around him.

Not to stop him from doing something wrong or to try and reason with his madness, but just to hold onto him. A hug among brothers born and fashioned from anger, pain, and revenge. They had suffered much, done much to each other, but there was still love there and a redemption to be found in it.

Loki hugged him back, which shocked Thor. It was even more a surprise when Loki buried his face in his older brother’s shoulder. They remained there for a time. Worlds upon worlds of sorrow and grief passed from one brother to the next before whispering away into the darkness.

Thor tightened his hold on his brother he believed twice lost. And it was then that the god promised to protect Loki and keep him safe. Even if, and most likely when, he made a mistake, Loki would not be cast out or abandoned again.

For deep down he knew all he wanted, all they both ever wanted, was to belong.

Thor pulled away, grasping his brother’s arms.

“You know,” Loki said, “for trying to sell you out in Sakaar—”

“Bygones, brother.” He patted his arm and released him. “All is forgiven. You saved our people.”

“Your people,” Loki was always quick to remind.

“Even though you were not born of Asgard, still you are Asgardian. And my brother.” He beamed.

Loki bowed his head in a nod, a smile crinkling his face. Thor patted his shoulder again before walking out of the room. The god of mischief stared at the mirror for a moment, his face caught in its reflection. He looked so much older, and yet better somehow. Not worn and scarred, but happy in a way...content. He bounced the disc in his hands a time or two and followed his brother.

He watched Thor walk through the crowd, bowing to him as he passed. A chair was presented to him, a poor throne, but it looked far more royal with his brother sitting in it. Thor was born to be king, they both were, but Loki knew he would never rule. There seemed, for the first time, no resentment of that fact. Maybe they weren’t just two sons of the crown set adrift, maybe they were something more. At the very least, Thor could be.

Loki walked up the stairs to stand beside him. He nearly cringed outwardly as he moved past the looming figure of the Hulk, but since he wasn't immediately thrown into the nearest floor, maybe they had resolved things? Or reached some sort of impasse for the Revengers sake?

Nevertheless, he didn’t look his way, keeping his eyes fixed upon his brother.

“So,” Heimdall spoke, standing on the opposite side of Loki, “king of Asgard.”

Thor turned in his seat. He smiled and waved at his people, before turning back to the darkness of space looming out the window.

“Where to?” Heimdall asked.

“I’m not sure,” Thor said. “Any suggestions?” he asked to either side of him, although he seemed to pause for a moment longer to look at Loki.

Loki looked back in surprise. Did he truly want his opinion? Did someone really care what he thought for once?

“Meek,” Thor asked of the tiny creature beneath Korg’s arm. “Where are you from?”

“Oh, Meek’s dead,” Korg replied, pointing at the thing.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, no I accidentally stomped on him on the bridge. I’ve just felt-felt so guilty I’ve been carrying him around all day.” As if in cue, the creature sprang back to life (or far more reasonably, just woke up) with a growl. “Oh, Meek you’re alive!” Korg exclaimed, “He’s alive guys! What was your question again, bro?”

Thor sighed. He looked back at the window. “Earth it is.”

Loki wondered how the mortals would react to his presence. Then again, they had all but ignored him the last time he was there. Thor looked out proudly at the darkness of space as if he could conquer it all to save his people. He truly was a far better kingly figure than Odin could ever be.

Loki was proud, not of himself or his deeds but of his brother. And, for the first time, he was only that. No envy blossomed in his chest, nor bitterness or anger swelled in his heart. Only pride and love remained in the once most hollow and empty parts of him.

Soon after, the people dispersed to different parts of the ship and Thor stood alone watching space. Loki stared at him for a moment before walking closer. He would face the abyss with him whatever devils it held and fight them together.

“I’m surprised you returned,” Thor said, without looking at him. “Thought you were staying on Sakaar and it was best we never speak again.”

“Yes, well, I’m not sure the Grandmaster would welcome me back after all.” He glanced at Thor, then back at the window. “Besides, I think I do want to have that talk you wanted. I’m curious what you had to say.”

Thor smiled at him for a moment. “I am sorry about all this.”

Loki furrowed his brow.

“I mean you wanted to be king but you’re not and now Asgard is gone...and who knows about Jotunheim.”

Asgard was gone. It was a terrible thought, one Loki never believed could happen. And yet it had, it had ended with fire and destruction. There was no whimpering when their world ended.

But their people still lived and that really was all that mattered.

“It’s alright.” Loki replied. “When I said, all those years ago, that I was looking forward to this moment, I wasn’t lying.”

“Even though you stopped it from happening with the Jotunheim assault?” Thor half-teased.

“I was envious. But I told you to never doubt my love. So I did what I did but it didn’t mean I didn’t want you to never rule. Just until you learned not to be an idiot.” He said making Thor chuckle. “Besides, I did offer you the throne. Not my fault you turned it down.”

“So that was you and not father?”

Loki shrugged.

Thor sighed. “I appreciate your words, brother. Thank you. I wish we weren’t always on opposite sides.”

“We aren’t now,” Loki enunciated each word.

“No we aren’t.” He grinned,  clasping his brother’s shoulder. “I am glad you’re here. Somehow, space doesn’t seem as lonely now.”

“No,” Loki said as Thor dropped his hand.

“Do you still wish for it?” Thor asked.

“What?”

“To be king.”

“I always wanted...to be your equal. I meant it. I never did want the throne, not truly. But I’m not sure being equals is possible. Seems like a waste of time to hope for it.” he glanced at his brother. “I’ve accepted that. If I could be your brother, though, and by your side, I’d be happy enough with that.”

Thor smiled once more. “Of course.” He bowed his head ever slightly. “I accept. Besides, you were always my equal, even though you never saw it.”

Loki pursed his lips, swallowing back the odd lump in his throat. He cleared it. “Do you think it’s a good idea to go back to Earth?”

“Of course,” Thor grinned. “Everybody loves me. I’m very popular.”

“Let me rephrase that. Do you think it’s a good idea to bring me back to Earth?”

Thor paused. “Probably not to be honest.”

Loki breathed a laugh as Thor smiled. Of course, Thor was right. He would never be wanted anywhere. Did he expect that to change? Was he even wanted here really? Or would his next mistake send him into the void again? Did Thor really want him there?

As if on cue from a stage, Thor grinned alleviating his every fear. “I wouldn’t worry, brother. I have a feeling that everything’s going to work out.”

Loki sighed. An air of contentment, as much as he could find at that moment, filled him, a quiet peace at long last.

Until the unthinkable happened.

A ship appeared out of nowhere, hovering in front of theirs. Loki recognized it, the familiarity of it plunging an ice-cold knife into his heart.

Thanos.

After all this time Thanos had found him. Fear locked chains around Loki’s body. His eyes filled with memories of his words and his warning.

Make you wish for something as sweet as pain. Loki took a step back. “We need to leave now. Right now!”

Thor turned to his brother, opening his mouth to ask what happened.

“Sir.” A soldier ran up to them.

“What?”

“Our ship. It’s being pulled in towards that one.” He pointed out the window towards Thanos’ ship.

“Then get the escape pods and tell everyone to evacuate!” Loki demanded.

“But there’s not enough for everyone!”

“So?”

“How many can fit?” Thor interjected.

The man blinked at Loki and the  incredulity of his words. “A little over half, sir.”

Without warning, the ship rocked with a blast.

“Then get the women and children on board first and then as many men as see fit to go.”

The man nodded, before rushing off.

Loki began to silently sneak away.

“Loki!” Thor called, pausing Loki in his steps.“Where are you going?”

“I can’t stay here,” He said simply.

“Why not?”

“It’s Thanos. That ship,” he pointed, “belongs to him.”

Recognition dawned on Thor’s face. “Why would he come here?”

Loki froze. The Tesseract. He had stolen it from the vaults before bringing Surtur back to life. He had it on him, hidden. Thanos must have sensed it, somehow, must have known….

But how could Loki tell Thor that? How could he betray him once more?

What if he left and hid the thing far from the Asgardians or Thor? He would be safe. He could save everyone. And yet the warnings still rang in his ears like so many hideous bells.

“He’s after me,” Loki decided to say, still being honest in his way. “He-he warned me.”

“Warned you? Warned you when?”

“He said he would find me and he has.” Loki turned to go. “No realm, no barren

moon, no crevice,” he whispered, the words spilling out of him like so many rivers.

Thor grabbed his arm. “Explain to me what this is. Now, brother.”

“When I fell from Asgard, I died,” Loki explained as quickly as he could. “Thanos brought me back.”

“So you were dead?” Sadness creased Thor’s face.

“Yes. And I didn’t want to come back. But Thanos thought me useful. So he forced me back, burdened me with knowledge and purpose and put the scepter in my hands. But all that knowledge,” Loki cringed under the weight of the memories. How he had once thought it glorious…. “It was hard to bear. It was like I was being remade, over and over until I could bear it.” his voice sounded shaky and tears clung traitorously to the corners of his eyes. “Do you know what that’s like? To be reborn?”

“Calm, Loki.” Thor grasped the side of his neck with his hands. “You are safe.”

“No.” He shook his head. “He said if I did not bring him the Tesseract, there was nowhere I could hide.” he was barely speaking now, his throat clogging with fear. “I am not safe. And neither is anyone else.”

Thor pointed at a man rushing by. “Send out a distress signal. Tell them we have families and few soldiers and that we need the nearest ship. Go!”

The man rushed back in the other direction.

Loki pulled out of Thor’s grasp. “I’m leaving.”

Sadness passed over Thor’s face. He nodded. “Very well.”

“What about you?”

“I’m staying to fight.”

“You-you can’t. You can’t fight! You’ll die!”

“Then I die with my people. I won’t leave them, Loki.”

“Thor….” he began to try to reason with him.

Thor smiled at Loki. “Farvell, brother. I wish you would stay but I don't blame you that you are leaving.”

“Brother, please—”

“It is better for you to leave than for me to see you dead. So go. I hope to see you again. If not here then in Valhalla.”

But only the brave went there. Had Thor called him brave? When he was running away? Who was his brother to forgive so much and remember so little? Thor smiled and walked away, leaving Loki alone once more.

He stood there, watching his brother. He wanted to help, but how could he? He was so afraid. So very afraid. Yet he had made Thor a promise and had said only moments ago that he would fight beside him.

“Are you coming?” Korg asked.

Loki glanced up at the pile of rocks, Meek still tucked under his arm. Loki paused. He needed to hide the Tesseract anyway.

So that’s your excuse.

A dull thud sounded ahead. The ship screeched and groaned. The front window crashed in and the Black Order stepped through the window, not so much human as something born of the inky abyss of space.

Loki froze, his feet on the steps of freedom, as he watched his brother attack. His people could not fight. He knew that. They weren’t soldiers. Hela had killed most of them. These people were just....people. Families, parents, husbands, wives. Children not of war but of peace.

Thor and what few fighters there actually was, with the aid of the Hulk,  attacked the Order. And the Order razed them down.

And then Thor, too, went down. Loki’s hand shot out as if he could reach him all this way.

“Are you coming?” someone shouted.

Loki’s foot stepped off the platform. He couldn’t leave, not now. Loki would stay true to his word. As he had sworn so would he keep. He moved back. “Go,” he whispered.

“What?”

“Go! Get out of here!” And with that Loki ran towards his brother.

Monsters surrounded him, things purely out of darkness. But he was a monster himself and knew how to handle them. With a wave of his hands, his daggers appeared and he cut down all that stood between him and his brother. He found him lying still on the ground.

“On your feet, brother,” he said, using all his strength to try to lift him.

“Loki?” Thor gasped for air, turning on his back. “This is Valhalla?”

“No. We can go there later.” He smiled, helping Thor to his feet.

“Thank you,” Thor said.

“Side by side?” Loki cocked his head, giving that smile born from a thousand emotions and few of them good.

Thor nodded. Together, they turned to the horde. And together they fought and yet still, as Loki knew would happen, they lost. But at least they were together, at least they were not alone as their people were hewn down, like so many trees, until only bodies of friends and foes lay at their feet. Until only the Order  and the two sons of Asgard remained.

Lightning crackled between Thor’s fingers. He hadn’t used his power yet, probably because he would tear the ship in half if he did, but most everyone was dead now. The ship rocked with another resounding boom.  Thor gripped his hands tight, power ready to be set loose upon whoever came near. Were the escape pods gone? Loki couldn't be sure. If not, they needed to hold the Order off as long as possible and if Thor used his power, would there even be enough of a ship to let the pods leave?

So, with great hesitation, Loki placed a hand on Thor’s arm. Thor looked at him, his eye full of light and rage. Loki shook his head and Thor seemed to understand him. The power died from his eye and fingers. And so Thor and Loki stood, ready to face death together.

Loki wasn’t surprised when he felt only great joy at the thought of dying and dying not alone, but the word “Wait!” was yelled out and all the fighting stopped. Multiple weapons were pointed at them.

Silence echoed through the ship. The ship drenched in darkness save for a few flickering lights shooting out embers of electricity, and fires kindling in small places, mixing smoke and death into a hideous perfume. The ship was as torn apart as the Asgardians were, and as broken as Loki felt. Somewhere below, Loki could feel more than hear the desperate plea for help, being repeated over and over, sent out to the dark of space where no one could hear their screams of desperation.

“Our crew is made of Asgardian families, we have very few soldiers here. This is not a war craft, repeat this is not….”

Loki stopped listening when a member of the Black Order grabbed Thor and threw him across the room. He collided head first into a wall. As Thor tried to get to his feet to fight back, they picked him up and threw him once more. Loki stepped towards him and the spears fenced around him. Thor lay in a crumpled heap near his feet, but too far away for him to help. He was powerless and he hated that.

Suppose I always break my promises, Loki thought.

“Hear me,” a man said behind him. “And rejoice. You have had the privilege of being saved by the great Titan. You may think this is suffering. No.” Loki heard groans of people he knew. Pleas for mercy which the Black Order did not fulfill. “It is salvation. Universal scales tipped forward balance because of your sacrifice.”

Sacrifice. All this sacrifice. Loki saw out of the corner of his eyes people he had known and grown up with, people he had loved but had not loved him. What sacrifice was this? What balance could be found in death?

And Loki realized then he wasn’t like he was when he came to Earth, willing to kill whatever to do what it took to rule. Whatever it took to be free from the grip of Thanos. No. This wasn’t balance or sacrifice, it was just death and blood, fire and rage. and Loki hated it as much as himself.

“Smile,” The man walked around him, grey and aged, not deeming to look Loki’s way as he passed him. He would regret that. “For even in death you have become children of Thanos.”

Loki clenched his jaw and looked ahead. He saw the figure of Thanos, silent as a stone angel from below, backlit against less than holy lights. He was just standing there, observing his people killing Loki’s.

Thanos turned towards him. Fear clung to Loki’s soul, grasping words not forgotten and pain not easily put away. Scars were not to be found on his skin, but inside...inside he was laced with them.

“I know what it’s like to lose,” Thanos boomed. “To feel so desperately that you’re right, yet to fail nonetheless.” He grasped Thor’s armour near his neck and, with a groan from his brother, lifted him, as he helplessly struggled closer to Loki.

So near now. So very near.

In the shadows, something large stirred.

“As lightning turns the legs to jelly,” Thanos went on,“I ask you, to what end? Dread it, run from it...destiny arrives all the same.” He set Thor on the ground and held him by his head now. “And now it’s here. Or should I say...I am.”

Thanos lifted his fist. On it, rested a golden gauntlet that resembled all too much the work of the Nidavellir Dwarves. And there was a stone on it...an Infinity Stone. More fear crippled Loki’s heart as the Power stone lit his face.

“You talk too much,” Thor groaned.

Loki looked at Thor, eyes pleading for silence as the gripped Thor’s head tighter.

“The Tesseract.” Thanos stared at Loki. “Or your brother’s head.”

Loki stared at Thor. He couldn’t give the stone to Thanos. More would die. Besides, Thor wouldn’t want him to sacrifice everything to save him. And yet he knew what keeping it meant. Could he watch his brother die? For Thanos did not toy with idle threats.

Was this worse than pain? Sweeter than the feeling of not breathing, not living?

“I assume you have a preference?” Thanos sneered.

“Oh, I do,” Loki said. And with hate in his heart at the very words he spoke, he held back all fear and pain as he said, “Kill away.”

Even Thanos was surprised at this. Thor’s eye flashed open in confusion before Thanos squeezed. As he squeezed, he pressed his gauntlet at his face. Loki remembered all too well that feeling, of a stone similar, the pain and agony of it. The horror. A scream echoed out of Thor resounding and piercing so many daggers in Loki’s heart. It truly would be better to die.

Loki froze his smile in place. He remembered when they were young, willing to fight monsters and opting instead to fight snakes created by their mother. And he looked at his brother. His kind brother who had done no wrong. Who had smiled in the face of pain and death. Who was so good unlike himself.

He remembered Thor grabbing hold of his scepter, trying to keep hold of him before he fell. Or pleading with him to come home.

And his smile started to fall.

He thought of when Thor said he thought the world of him or told him he loved him.

And his smile fell more.

You’re the god of mischief, Thor had told him the zapper barely affecting him, but you could be so much more.

We could be, he had seen in Thor’s eyes before he had left.

And his smile was nearly gone as Thor screamed even louder. If only Loki could take his eyes off him, look away from the agony, he might be able to survive. But he couldn’t stop staring. Tears replaced the fake joy in his eyes, fear loosening his armour he had built so well.

And as Loki remembered sitting by his brother’s side watching the sunset a thousand years ago and Thor opened his mouth to speak, Loki yelled, half-pleading, half-screaming “Alright, stop!”

He would have run to his brother if he could. Held onto him and not let go, but he didn’t. He just watched as Thanos loosened his grip and his brother stopped screaming.

And something grew closer in the shadows.

Loki closed his eyes, breathing deep, trying to contain his emotions. Thanos had seen his weakness and now Loki would have to do all he could to stop him from destroying it.

“We don’t have the Tesseract,” Thor gasped. “It was destroyed on Asgard.”

Loki looked at his brother, pain tearing his heart in two.

Oh, I’m sorry, he thought. I’ve betrayed us all.

He glanced up at Thanos. Exchanged glances with his brother and the Titan. Hoping, somehow, Thor would forgive him once more, he held his hand out. The Tesseract appeared in his fingers as if conjured from air.

Thanos smiled as Thor gasped.

“You really are the worst, brother,” Thor whispered, sending a far more fatal blow to his soul than death ever could.

Loki stepped forward, hand outstretched. He stared at Thor, still in Thanos’ grasp. There was so much he wanted to say, so many words, but he would keep them for later. Keep them when all was safe again, even if it was only in death. So, instead, he said, “I assure you, brother,” and with this his eyes met his, “the sun will shine on us again.” It was his promise, his oath and he would die for it now as he would die for him.

Thanos chuckled. “Your optimism is misplaced, Asgardian.”

The shadow flashed green eyes at Loki. A slight smile curved Loki’s face.

“Well, for one thing,” he said with an almost sneer, some of his cockiness returning, not so much proud of his status, but glad that he was something else, something Thanos could not understand. “I’m not Asgardian. And for another…,” he remembered the words of that human so long ago who also grinned in the face of danger but was more than human alone. He smiled. “We have the Hulk.”

A roar sounded behind Thanos. As Thanos looked behind him at the looming threat, Loki jumped towards Thor. The Tesseract bounced out of his hands as he wrapped his arms around his brother, shielding his body from the pounding steps of the Hulk.

Loki glanced over his brother. Nothing permanent.

He held him against the storm of sounds. With his life, he would protect his family, protect all he had left. With his arms, he would never let his brother go.

Ending 1: No More Resurections

Loki held onto Thor, unwilling to let go. He felt deep inside, that this was the end. The end of everything. And as soon as he let go, that end would begin quickly, far too quickly.

Thor tried to pull away, struggling. But Loki held fast. Just stay down, he pleaded. Please don't. Not now. Not yet.

But he was Thor after all. If he didn’t fight, who was he? A coward like himself? Even if it was a lost cause, he would feel wrong if he didn’t try. So Loki loosened his grip. Thor looked at his brother for one moment before charging forward.

Loki watched helplessly as Thor lifted his sword and threw it at Thanos. It bounced off his armor and clanged to the ground. Still, Thor persisted, going in for a blow to the side. Thanos merely kicked him, sending Thor flying across the room. He landed on the ground with a yell.

Loki stood in the shadows as a member of the Order, the one who proudly spoke of sacrifice threw an armored prison of sorts at Thor. It locked around his body, holding him down.

On the ground, amidst several bodies, Heimdall called for the Allfathers. “Let the dark magic flow through me one last time.”

The Bifrost opened. The Hulk was lifted into it and blasted away, out of the ship and into space. Loki wished Heimdall had sent Thor away, but would he even survive it? He was weak now, it could kill him. Of course, him being here might also kill him. Unless….

“That was a mistake,” Thanos said, looming over the guardian of the Bifrost, before plunging a spear into him.

Loki gasped as Thor yelled. A god, so much power, destroyed so easily. So simply.

“You’re going to die for that,” Thor cried.

The order member waved his hand and a piece of steel wrapped around Thor’s mouth. “Shh,” he said, putting a finger on his lips. He picked up the Tesseract. “My humble personage,” he kneeled, “bows before your grandeur. No other being has ever had the might, nay, the nobility to wield not one but two infinity stones.”

Thanos picked up the Tesseract, holding it in his hands.

“The universe lies within your grasp.” As he said this, Thanos gripped the stone tight, breaking it to pieces. What a hideously beautiful thought of what to do to the mighty, empty, perfect universe. Thanos placed the stone in his glove and the world was filled with blue light before settling down.

All the while, Loki watched, looking at Thanos and Thor, trying to think of a way to get him out. To free him and let him live. He had half a kingdom to rule still. And then the word “half” stuck in his head, encircling all his thoughts. And he knew finally what needed to be done.

For Thanos was all about equality, only taking half of everything.

A terrible and dark idea bloomed inside Loki. No tricks this time, no mischief. He had one path before him now and he must take it. Some solutions are not simple and at least this one might save his brother.

For he had sworn an oath to fight beside his brother and to die beside him too. Besides, all this was his fault anyway and he had much to atone for.

Will I go to Valhalla?, he wondered, I must die courageously in battle and with my weapon .

And if he went to Hel, he knew plenty of people that wanted to hurt him; at least he wouldn't be bored there.

“There are two more stones on earth,” Thanos said. “Find them, my children, and bring them to me.”

“Father we will not fail you,” a woman said.

Finding all the courage, all the resolve and armour he had built over himself for centuries, Loki swallowed back the terror and found his Trickster self again.

He stepped from the shadows. “If I might interject. If you’re going to Earth,” he outstretched his arms and laughed. “You might want a guide.” He shrugged, moving forward, ignoring the members on either side of him. “I do have a bit of experience in that arena.”

“Well, if you consider failure experience,” Thanos replied.

“I consider experience, experience. “ Loki faced Thanos, no Hulk, no soldiers standing between him. If he could just trick him long enough.

“Hmph,” Thanos muttered.

Loki stepped forward. “Almighty, Thanos...I, Loki, Prince of Asgard.” He walked closer. And paused. Breathed a smile. “Odinson….” he thought of his father, of his last words, saying he loved him, loved his sons. And Loki loved him too, through it all, despite it all.

Loki looked at Thor. I’m sorry,  he wanted to say. Never doubt my love.  But these were things he could no longer say. He wondered if Thor could read them in his eyes. He hoped he heard the word “brother” when he claimed heritage to Odin. Loki hoped his brother knew all that hid behind his words.

Loki turned back to Thanos, tearing his eyes away from his brother, sure he had looked upon him for the last time. “The rightful king of Jotunheim. God of Mischief.” He produced a dagger at his side. “Do hereby pledge to you...my undying fidelity.” He bowed his head.

Did Thor know he spoke to him? How even in death in as many lives to come he was now and forever Thor’s? Did his brother understand this was not an act of betrayal but of love? He supposed he would never know, but he hoped.

Tears touched his eyes. He breathed, once, twice, fear lacing his bones and trying to stay his hand but he was Odin’s son and Thor’s brother and he had the courage to defeat his terror.

So he flung his hand out. His dagger came inches from Thano’s throat. But it was too late. He was frozen in place, blue light surrounding his arm. He knew somehow, of course, he did. This was a fool’s errand or perhaps just a sacrificial one.

Ahh, yes, sacrifice. Dying for someone else. So that’s what that word meant.

“Undying,” Thanos sneered.

Loki steeled himself, trying to show only rage and not fear. Only defiance and not pain.

Thanos grasped Loki’s hand, holding tight and squeezing. Pain coursed up his arm, forcing him to drop his knife, his sure ticket to the gates of Valhalla. His heart dropped. How would he enter now? Could he die bravely? This was no battle, but still, maybe he could.

“You should choose your words more carefully,” Thanos said, before wrapping his gauntleted hand around his throat.

Air few out of his lungs. He struggled for breath as Thanos lifted him in the air. Loki vainly tried to pull away, but he knew the power of Thanos.

This was his end. The end, finally. He wished it didn’t have it be this, but it was his fate after all. If only fame had let him and Thor be brothers for a moment more.

Loki choked and struggled, helplessly. The worst part was knowing Thor watched. Knowing that he’d regret his last words. They were true, but Thor would still hate himself for it. Thanos smiled.  

“You…” Loki forced out, determined to be resolute in his last, determined to leave this world better than when he came in. “will never be...a god.” His eyes were filling with tears now. His face felt thick and disconnected, his eyes strained.

Oh, my brother, forgive me. Farvell.

Thanos cocked his head. Squeezed tighter. Loki thought he heard a crack from somewhere far away. He was sinking now, sinking lower and lower into the dark. He thought he heard Thanos say, “No more resurrections.”

Well good. He hadn’t wanted the first one. He fell deeper and deeper until he found himself in that last memory from a thousand years ago.

Two brothers, as children, watching an Asgardian sunset.

Thor opened his mouth to speak. And this time, unlike before when he had been interrupted by Loki’s screams, he did speak. “I’m glad you’re with me, brother.”

“I’m glad too,” Loki remembered saying and said at the same time. “Where do I go now?” A new part of the memory was added, making a new part of the story. This was no longer a memory, more a dream now.

“To Valhalla, of course.” Thor beamed.

“But I lost my weapon. And I didn’t die in battle, or bravely.”

“You did. This was the greatest battle, the battle of saving yourself or someone else. The battle of sacrifice. And as for your weapon...you died for me, using my courage. I was your weapon, then and always. As I am your brother.”

Loki smiled as the dream faded. He closed his eyes and drifted away, never to feel pain nor fear, guilt nor sorrow ever again.

I will see you again, brother, he thought, when the sun shines once more.

Thor watched helplessly as his brother made that attempt. He watched as Thanos choked the life out of him. And he heard Loki’s last words.

“No!” Thor cried, his voice muffled by the metal on his mouth.

Not Loki. Not his brother. He was all he had left in the world, all he had to hold onto. And now he was….

Thanos looked at him. Carried his body over to him. And tossed him down on the ground inches away.

Loki was a prince, a god, a king, he did not deserve to be treated this way.

Anger mixed with rage kindling with grief to make a blazing fire in his soul. Oh, Thanos would pay for that as well. He would suffer surely.

“No resurrections this time,” Thanos swore.

Thor stared down at the lifeless body of his brother. They had just found each other again, made oaths once more, fought together. And Thor had said he was the worst. That was the last thing he had said.

What monster was he to put that on his brother?

Thanos and the others formed a loose circle. Thanos raised his hand in the air. A vibration hummed through the world and bright flames encircled them.

And they were gone.

The chains collapsed off of Thor. Before any of them were fully off, Thor was on the ground, aching towards Loki. He crawled to him, pain filling each movement. Not that anything as simple as pain mattered now.

He reached out and grabbed Loki’s body, clenching it tightly. “No...Loki,” he cried. His brother, his poor brother who deserved all the world, who deserved to be loved, but saw and felt none of it.

He just wanted to be brothers again, but Fate was so cruel. Did it want to destroy him? Well, it had. Something had beat him finally. Beat him so that he would never try to win again.

Thor knew Loki was not betraying him, he knew what Loki said and who he had pledged himself to. He saw the words in his green eyes that would never flash with anger or joy again. He hoped Loki knew he understood.

He buried his face in his brother’s chest and sobbed. He took his hand in his, his cold hand devoid of any warmth or life. He squeezed as tightly as he could as if by his doing so he could force life back into him, force only a little fire back into his veins once more.

All his pain and sorrow and grief, he let out into half-screams and choking sobs. Who did he have to hold it back for anymore?

The ship rumbled beneath him. He knew it would explode any moment. Let the dead be set to space; they could not burn, could not have a warrior’s burial and so neither would the Odinsons.

Thor would stay holding onto his brother until death took him too. He could meet him again in death. There would be no need for a resurrection if he was dead too.

The ship began to break. As it broke, Thor prayed to the Allfathers to send Loki to Valhalla.

Loki, I bid you to take your place in the halls of Valhalla

The crackling of fire sounded nearby.

Where thine enemies have been vanquished

Metal groaned and fell.

Where the brave shall live forever. Nor shall we mourn but rejoice for those that have died the glorious death.

The world around him broke apart. He clung tighter to his brother.

Lo, There do I see my Father, and  Lo, there do I see my Mother, and  Lo, There do I see my Brother.

This was the end. His end. The finality of everything, weighed little on him. And he was okay with it. For there was more that could be found in death now than could be sought after in life.

He calls me, he thought as something hit him. Darkness took over and still, he clung. The world turned dark and he fell deep.

Thor smiled. He would see his family again. See his brother once more.

So bring me to him.

Ending 2: Undying            

Loki held onto Thor, unwilling to let go. He felt deep inside, that this...was the end. The end of everything. And as soon as he let go, that end would begin quickly, far too quickly.

But...it couldn’t be. Loki had to be stronger than that. For Thor. For Asgard. For himself. He was a god after all.

Thor tried to pull away from Loki. Loki watched the Hulk attack Thanos and lose just as quickly. A moment more, he thought, keeping his grip on his brother, just a little longer. He needed as much time as he could get.

Thor looked at his brother for one moment as Loki released him. Quickly, Loki jumped into the shadows. He conjured a fake Tesseract, switching it with the real one, currently unnoticed. He only needed the power for a brief moment.

Closing his eyes, he breathed deep and slow. His eyes opened and the power of the Space stone surged through him. Enough power to protect himself from whatever Thanos did. He needed more than just his usual tricks. His last death was believable enough to Thor but he needed to fool Thanos this time.

He felt magic pour through him, pure and unequal to anything. Magic that he had not felt since he had been under Thanos’ rule. Loki’s eyes flashed open and he was sure the light of the stone flamed in them before resuming their green glow.

His skin had become that of the Jotunheim frost giants, blue and cold and dead, before morphing slowly back to the skin of his people.

The member of the Order who spoke of sacrifice stepped to the stone. In a flash, Loki switched them, too fast for even the strongest eyes to catch. The fake stone vanished in Loki’s hands.

He was interrupted by seeing the Bifrost opening and the Hulk blasted away into space. Loki looked over at Thor, locked in some sort of metal prison.

“That was a mistake,” Thanos said, looming over Heimdall, before plunging a spear through him.

Loki gasped as Thor yelled. A god, so much power, destroyed so easily. So simply.

“You’re going to die for that,” Thor cried.

The Order Member waved his hand and a piece of steel wrapped around his brother’s mouth. “Shh,” he said, putting a finger to his mouth.

Loki breathed deeply as the member picked up the stone and offered it to Thanos. Loki went back to concentrating. A plan had formed in his mind, a simple one, one Thanos would think foolish and ignorant.

“The universe lies within your grasp,” he heard before also hearing the Tesseract being crushed. What a hideously beautiful thought of what to do to the mighty, empty, perfect universe.

The world turned bright blue for a moment. Loki kneeled in the shadows, hoping his plan would direct attention off of Thor and free him. This plan must free him or what was the point? His brother still had half a kingdom to rule. Loki just hoped he’d be there to see it one day.

Besides, Thanos was all about equality and taking only half of things. So, if his plan worked, Thor would be safe.

“There are two more stones on Earth,” Thanos said. “Find them, my children, and bring them to me.”

Now was his time to work.

“Father, we will not fail you,” a woman said.

Finding all the courage, all the resolve and armour he had built for himself for centuries, Loki swallowed the terror and found his Trickster self again.

He stepped from the shadows. “If I might interject. If you’re going to Earth,” He stretched his arms and laughed. “You might want a guide.” He shrugged, moving forward. “I do have a bit of experience in that arenas.”

“Well if you consider failure experience,” Thanos replied.

“I consider experience.” Loki faced Thanos, no Hulk, no soldiers standing between him.

“Hmph,” Thanos muttered.

Loki stepped forward. “Almight Thanos….I, Loki, Prince of Asgard.” He walked closer. And paused. Breathed a smile. “Odinson.” He thought of his father, his last words saying he loved him, love his sons. And Loki loved him too, through it all, despite it all. He looked at his brother.

I’m sorry, he wanted to say, never doubt my love. None of this is real. Save only my pledge to you.

But these were things he could not say, not now at least. Maybe not forever. This deed would break Thor. Might be best to let him think him gone, instead of showing how he had betrayed him once more.

Yet, he hoped the word “brother”, when he claimed heritage to Odin, could be seen in those words.

Loki turned back to Thanos, tearing his eyes away from his brother, for perhaps the final time. “The rightful king of Jotunheim. God of Mischief.” He produced a dagger at his side. “Do hereby pledge to you...my undying fidelity.” He bowed his head.

Did Thor know he spoke to him? How, whether he lived or died, he was now and forever Thor’s? Did his brother understand this was not a betrayal but was an act of love? He supposed not, believed he’d never know that, but still, he dared to hope.

Tears touched his eyes. He steeled himself, fear lacing every nerve and nearly destroying his plan. But he must continue. He was a son of Odin, and a brother of Thor, and he had the courage to defeat his terror. He breathed, once, twice, before flinging his dagger out. It came inches from Thanos’ throat.

But it was too late. He was frozen into place, blue light surrounding his arm.

So far, so good.

 “Undying,” Thanos sneered. He grasped Loki’s arm, holding tight and squeezing. Pain coursed up his arm, forcing him to drop the knife. Why did he still feel pain? Doubt lingered in him. Had he done enough? Would he still be able to protect himself?

“You should choose your words more carefully,” Thanos said, before wrapping his gauntleted hand around his throat. Air flew out of his lungs, replaced just as quickly by more air.

It was almost torture, this back and forth, this pain and freedom, just like last time. He had felt death and life at the same time, but now it was amplified to a thousand degrees. Loki vainly tried to pull away, even though he knew that that wish being granted would ruin his plans.

Yet he trusted in the power and unchanging mind of Thanos. And Loki choked and struggled, knowing the worst part was that Thor watched. That he would regret perhaps his final words to him. He was right, but still, Thor would hate himself for it.

“You….” Loki forced out, “will never be...a god.” His eyes were filling with tears now. His face felt thick and disconnected, his eyes strained.

Oh, my brother, forgive me.

Thanos cocked his head. Squeezed tighter. Loki thought he heard a crack somewhere but perhaps it was just his armour.

He heard Thor’s yells and instantly wanted to assure him all was well. He felt himself being moved and wanted to jump down and free his brother. He felt himself tossed on the ground and wished to sit up with a smile. Loki heard Thanos say, “No more resurrections,” and wanted more than anything to jump up and say with a laugh, “Are you quite sure?”

But he could do none of that. He just had to lay there, unmoving, unseeing.

The world began to vibrate and pulse with life. Loki heard chains clank on the ground and then, a moment later, he felt Thor grab his chest.

“No...Loki,” he heard him cry.

Loki felt all the world pushed and prodded him forward to hold his brother and tell him all would be alright. But he couldn't. If Thanos found out, who was to say Thor would survive? Who was to say Thanos wouldn’t decide to punish Loki with life after his brother’s death? And who could be certain any of his people would last another encounter.

The ship rocked and he heard fire explode nearby.

Get out, Thor, go. Leave me while there’s still time.

But Thor didn’t hear nor would he listen if he did. Instead, Loki felt him bury his face in his chest and sob. This was not the first time Loki had heard his brother cry, but it was the worst by far. The last time he had at least fallen asleep before he could hear them. But now...now he was crying for the world, crying for the cruelty of fate and the hideous things that his smile could prevent no longer.

And then he felt Thor grip his hand, squeezing tight. He knew his body would feel cold, half because of his magic, half because of his true self, but this hurt more than anything ever could.

So this was what wishing for something as sweet as pain was like? Unable to move and comfort, while feeling unending agony like the dripping of venom course through him with each cry of his brother.

How he wished to be dead at this moment. It would be easier. Finally, he could stand it no longer, Loki doubled himself, an invisible self now and walked towards Thor.

The ship was breaking. Thor had to escape. Loki knelt beside him, his hand hovering over his head. Would Thor see his tricks and know? Best not to risk it, no matter how much he wanted to.

“Leave, brother,” he whispered. “Now is not the time to die.”

And then the ship exploded and Thor flew back, passing through Loki and into space.

His eyes, his real eyes, flashed open. Thor had been knocked unconscious and would not wake for a while. So Loki wrapped his arms around his brother and shielded him from the debris and fire and death flying around them.

He watched his people float in space, never to be given the burials they deserved. Thanos didn’t just kill, he destroyed and tore apart all that was sacred and good.  He watched Thanos’ ship vanish and all was silent in the abyss of space.

“You’re safe, brother,” Loki said. “You’re safe now.”

A ship appeared out of nowhere, old but in good condition. Had they responded to their distress signal? Loki was rather shocked that anyone had listened. Maybe there was some good left after all.

Loki grinned. “Get help.” And with that, he tossed his brother against the window of the ship. Thor landed against it, unmoving. The ship drew him in and Loki followed, morphing into an invisible form.

He watched strange-looking people lie him on a table. Loki wasn’t paying much attention to them, hearing only a few comments about how strong his arms were or that he was born from a pirate and an angel (they weren’t entirely wrong). Loki was focusing on Thor. He didn’t seem too injured, given the circumstances. Too weak to go through the Bifrost, although Loki still hoped Heimdall had sent him there anyway.

Loki rested a palm on his brother's head.

His hand shot back as a woman with antennae placed her hands on either side of Thor’s temples. “He is anxious,” she said softly. “Angry. He feels tremendous loss and guilt.”

A shot of pain echoed through his heart. No guilt compared to his own.  He could remedy all those feelings, but he couldn’t. He had to wait and protect his brother. Sometimes the hardest things were the better. Loki was starting to realize this now after so long.

“I am sorry, so very sorry,” he said, trying to hold in his emotions like so much broken glass.

The woman woke him up. He sprang up, flinging himself near a wall. Loki dashed to him. He saw the pain and memory filling Thor’s eye, sending more venom into Loki’s already broken heart. Thor turned around and met the odd group.

After a while, Thor, a blanket wrapped loosely around his shoulders, that Loki wanted to tighten, ate slowly, and barely. Loki sat beside him, listening to a woman talk about Thanos. When she revealed that she was the daughter of Thanos, shock creased Loki’s face. Then again, he knew little about Thanos himself save for his desires and power.

“Your father killed my brother.” Thor jumped up from the table. Loki sat there, unmoving. He knew this path of revenge Thor would surely take was his fault. If only he could just be king. But surrender was not in his nature as much as satisfaction was not in his own. And then Thor consoled the woman, saying family can be tough and explaining what happened with Hela.

How could his brother still be so kind after all that happened? He was too good for this tired, broken world and deserved far better.

Loki’s attention focused on the group when he heard Thor saying he needed to go to Knowhere to get the Reality stone from the Collector. Ahh, yes, he remembered doing that. It had seemed wise at the time, certainly, it seemed far wiser when he explained it to Tivan’s brother, the Grandmaster. Now, that Thanos had seemed to have figured out a way to find them, he couldn't be sure of the wisdom in the plan. Would the Grandmaster have hidden it well? He wouldn’t sell it, although it might have been better if he had.

“Only an idiot would give that man a stone,” someone said.

“Or a genius,” Thor defended Loki even after everything, even after knowing all he knew. Loki smiled for the first time in a long time.

Loki would sneak off the ship that went to Knowhere and find a ship of his own. Perfect timing, for Loki, was growing weary of staying in this invisible form, helpless and alone.

He watched Thor get on a ship with the tree and raccoon.

“Farewell, morons,” Thor smiled.

Loki smiled back, half-believing he was included him in that group. His smile fell as the ship pulled away. Loki stared into the eye of his brother, not sure if Fate would ever let them meet again.

Farvell, brother. I will see you again when the sun shines once more.

And so the God of Mischief hid in the shadows until the ship reached Knowhere and then found a small ship heading far away, with a crew small enough and bored enough to bribe. He wasn’t sure where he would go. Maybe Sakaar? If he would be accepted back. Maybe if the Grandmaster found out what happened to the Hulk and how his brother was in trouble.

A bit of forgotten pride swelled up inside Loki as he flew away from the world and all its troubles. It was soon, however, followed by a dagger of pain to his heart as he knew he flew from his people and his brother. He hated himself for it, but what could he do? He couldn’t be there, he couldn’t help. No one would want him around anyway. If he stayed out of the way or tried to enlist the help of the Grandmaster, maybe he would be doing something good.

He had Thor’s courage and he had to save him now, just not beside him.

Days passed, one fading into the next in the icy blackness of space. Nothing happened at all out here in the dark and the cold and Loki found his thoughts dwelling only on Thor and where he was and what had happened.

And then the crew turned to ash in front of him. And the ship began to fall into the dark.

Shock turned to determination. He had to do everything himself. It wasn’t hard to take back control of the ship; Loki realized he had paid too much for the incompetence he had found. As he floated in space, alone and confused, he wondered if this was Thanos’ doing. Had he found all the stones and accomplished his plan? And had half of all life been destroyed?

Were his people in that mix? Was Thor? Was Loki the only Asgardian left in all the world?

Loki knew he had to find out. No time to try to scheme or devise plans to enlist help. He needed to find Thor now and...then he could get help.

For he had to keep his pledge. He had given his life to Thor, given his heart and soul, and all of him undying as it was. He would need to hold fast to that oath now and defend it all costs. All the world might be gone, but not Loki and not his brother. He knew, deep inside somewhere, that Thor still lived and he would find him again, no matter how long it took.

The sun would shine again, and maybe it would shine sooner than Loki expected. For what could Thanos’ truly do if the sons of Odin fought together?

#fanfic #loki #infinity war #infinity war fanfic #loki fanfic #thor fanfic #thor ragnarok fanfic #thor and loki #thor #loki odinson #thor odinson #thor and loki fanfiction #iwfanfic #iw #thrfanfic #thr #thor ragnarok #my post #my fanfic #my creations #bloodtw #deathtw #major character death

[lilydalexf]

Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with Syntax6

Syntax6 has 17 stories at Gossamer, but you should visit her website for the complete collection of her fics and to see the cover art that comes with many of the stories (and to find her pro writing!). She's written some of the most beloved casefiles in the fandom. I've recced literally all of them here before. Twice. Big thanks to Syntax6 for doing this interview.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?

I’m delighted but not surprised because I’ve written and read fanfic for shows even older than XF. Also, I joined the XF fandom relatively late, at the end of 1999, so there were already hundreds of “classic” fics out there, stories that were theoretically superseded or dated by canon developments that came after them, but which nonetheless remained compelling in their own right. That is the beauty of fanfic: it is inspired by its original creators but not bound by them. It’s a world of “what if” and each story gets to run in a new direction, irrespective of the canon and all the other stories spinning off in their own universes. In this way, fanfic becomes almost timeless.

What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it? What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general?

(I feel these are similar, at least for me, so I will combine them here.)

First and foremost, I found friends. There was a table full of XF fanfic writers at my wedding. Bugs was my maid of honor. I still talk to someone from XF fandom pretty much every day. Lysandra, Maybe Amanda, Michelle Kiefer, bugs…these are just some of the people who’ve been part of my life for half my existence now. Sometimes I get to have dinner with Audrey Roget or Anjou or MCA. Deb Wells and Sarah Ellen Parsons are part of my pro fic beta team. I have a similar list from the Hunter fandom, terrific people who have enriched my life in numerous ways and I am honored to count as friends.

Second, I learned a lot about writing during my years in XF fandom. I grew up there. Part of this growth experience was simply due to practice. I wrote about 1.2 million words of XF fanfic, which is the equivalent of 15 novels. I made mistakes and learned from them. But another essential part of learning is absorbing different kinds of well-told tales, and XF had these in spades. Some stories were funny. Others were lyrical. Some were short pieces with nary a word wasted while others were sprawling epics that took you on an adventure. The neat thing about XF is that it has space for many different kinds of stories, from hard-core sci-fi to historical romance. You can watch other authors executing these varied pieces and learn from them. You can form critique groups and ask for betas and get direct feedback on how to improve. It’s collaborative and fun, and this can’t be underestimated, generally supportive. The underlying shared love of the original product means that everyone comes into your work predisposed to enjoy it. I am grateful for all the encouragement and the critiques I received over my years in fandom.

Finally, I think a valuable lesson for writers that you can find in fandom, but not in your local author critique group, is how to handle yourself when your work goes public. Not everyone is going to like your work and they will make sure you know it. Some people will like it maybe too much, to the point where they cross boundaries. Learning to disengage yourself from public reaction to your work is a difficult but crucial aspect of being a writer. You control the story. You can’t control reaction to it. It’s frustrating at first, perhaps, but in the end, it’s freeing.

Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)?

I participated in ATXC, the Haven message boards, and the Scullyfic mailing list/news group. For a number of years, I also ran a fic discussion group with bugs called The Why Incision.

What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

I started reading XF fanfic before I began watching the show. I had watched one season two episode (Soft Light) and then seen bits and pieces of a few others from season four. I’d seen Fight the Future. Basically, I’d seen enough to know which one was Mulder and which one was Scully, and which one believed in aliens. An acquaintance linked me to a rec site for XF fanfic (Gertie’s, maybe?) so that I could see how fic was formatted for the web. I clicked a fic, I think it was one by Lydia Bower dealing with Scully’s cancer arc, and basically did not stop reading. Soon I was printing off 300K of fic to take home with me each night. I could not believe the level of talent in the fandom, and that there were so many excellent writers just giving away their works for free. I wanted to play in this sandbox, too, so I started renting the VHS tapes to catch up on old episodes (see, I am An Old). After a few months, I began writing my own stuff.

What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show?

I had to be dragged kicking and screaming to The X-Files. I’m not a sci-fi person by nature. I think my main objection is that, when done poorly, it feels lazy to me. Who did the thing? A ghost! Maybe an alien? I guess we’ll never know. You can always just shrug and play some spooky music and the “truth will always be out there…” somewhere beyond the story in front of you. You never have to commit to any kind of truth because you can invent some magical power or new kind of alien to change the story. I think, by the bitter end, the XF had devolved into this kind of storytelling. The mytharc made no kind of sense even in its own universe. But for years the XF achieved the best aspects of sci-fi storytelling—narrative flexibility and an apotheosis of our current fears dressed up as a super entertaining yarn.

What eventually sold me on the XF as a show is all of the smart storytelling and the sheer amount of ideas contained within its run. At its best, it’s a brilliant show. You have mediations on good versus evil, the role of government in a free society, is there a God, are we alone in the universe, and what are the elements that make us who we are? If Mulder and Morris Fletcher switch bodies, how do we know it’s really “them”? The tonal shifts from week to week were clever and engaging. For Vince Gilligan, truth was always found in fellow human beings. For Darin Morgan, humans were the biggest monster of all. The show was big enough to contain both these premises, and indeed, was stronger for it. The deep questions, the character quirks, the unsolved mysteries and all that went unsaid in the Mulder-Scully relationship left so much room for fanfic writers to do their own work. As such, the fandom attracted and continues to attract both dabbling writers and those who are serious craftspeople. People who like the mystery and those who like the sci-fi angle. Scientists and true believers. Like the show, it’s big enough for all.

What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom?

I look at it like an old friend I catch up with once in a while. We’ve been close for so long that there’s no awkwardness—we just get each other! I love seeing people post screen shots and commentary, and I think it’s wonderful that so many writers are still inventing new adventures for Mulder and Scully. That is how the characters live on, and indeed how any of us lives on, through the stories that others tell about us.

Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?

I ran the Hunter fandom for about five years, mostly because when I poked my head back in, I found the person in change was a bully who’d shut down everything due to her own waning interest. A person would try to start a topic for discussion, and she’d say, “We’ve already covered that.” Well, yes, in a 30-year-old show, there’s not a lot of new ground…

Most other shows, Hunter included, have smaller fandoms and thus don’t attract the depth of fan talent. I don’t just mean fanfic writers. I mean those who do visual art, fan vids, critiques, etc. The XF fandom has all these in droves, which makes it a rare and special place. But all fandoms have the particular joy of geeking out over favorite scenes and reveling in the meeting of shared minds. It will always look odd to those not contained within it, which brings me to the part of modern fandom I find somewhat uncomfortable…the creators are often in fan-space.

In Hunter, the female lead joins fan groups and participates. This is more common now in the age of social media, where writers, producers, actors, etc., are on the same platforms as the rest of us. Fan and creator interaction used to be highly circumscribed: fans wrote letters and maybe received a signed headshot in return. There were cons where show runners gave panels and took questions from the audience. You could stand in line to meet your favorite star. Now, you can @ your favorite star on Twitter, message her on Facebook or follow him on Instagram. In some ways, this is so fun! In other ways, it blurs in the lines in ways that make me uncomfortable. I think it’s rude, for example, if a fan were to go on a star’s social media and post fanfic there or say, “I thought the episode you wrote was terrible.” But what if it’s fan space and the actor is sitting right there, watching you? Is it rude to post fanfic in front of her, especially if she says it makes her uncomfortable? Is it mean to tell a writer his episode sucked right to his face?

Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully?

I own the first seven seasons on DVD and will pull them out from time to time to rewatch old faves. I’ve shown a few episodes over the spring and summer to my ten-year-old daughter, and it’s been fun to see the series through her eyes. We’ve mostly opted for the comedic episodes because there’s enough going on in the real world to give her nightmares. Her favorite so far is Je Souhaite.

Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom?

I don’t have much bandwidth to read fanfic these days. My job as a mystery/thriller author means I have to keep up with the market so I do most of my reading there right now. I also beta read for some pro-fic friends and betaing a novel will keep you busy.

Do you have any favorite X-Files fanfic stories or authors?

I read so much back in the day that this answer could go on for pages. Alas, it also hasn’t changed much over the past fifteen years because I haven’t read much since then. But, as we’re talking Golden Oldies today, here are a bunch:

All the Mulders, by Alloway I find this short story both hilarious and haunting. Scully embraces her power in the upside down post-apocalyptic world.

Strangers and the Strange Dead, by Kipler Taut prose and an intriguing 3rd party POV make this story a winner, and that’s before the kicker of an ending, which presaged 1013’s.

Cellphone, by Marasmus Talk about your killer twists! Also one of the cleverest titles coming or going.

Arizona Highways, by Fialka I think this is one of the best-crafted stories to come out of the XF. It’s majestic in scope, full of complex literary structure and theme, and yet the plot moves like a runaway freight train. Both the Mulder and Scully characterizations are handled with tender care.

So, We Kissed, by Alelou What I love about this one is how it grounds Mulder and Scully in the ordinary. Mulder’s terrible secret doesn’t involve a UFO or some CSM-conspiracy. Scully goes to therapy that actually looks like therapy. I guess what I’m saying is that I utterly believe this version of M & S in addition to just enjoying reading about them.

Sore Luck at the Luxor, by Anubis Hot, funny, atmospheric. What’s not to love?

Black Hole Season, by Penumbra Nobody does wordsmithing like Penumbra. I use her in arguments with professional writers when they try to tell me that adverbs and adjectives MUST GO. Just gorgeous, sly, insightful prose.

The Dreaming Sea, by Revely This one reads like a fairytale in all the best ways. Revely creates such loving, beautiful worlds for M & S to live in, and I wish they could stay there always.

Malus Genius, by Plausible Deniability and MaybeAmanda Funny and fun, with great original characters, a sly casefile and some clear-eyed musings on the perils of getting older. This one resonates more and more the older I get. ;)

Riding the Whirlpool, by Pufferdeux I look this one up periodically to prove to people that it exists. Scully gets off on a washing machine while Mulder helps. Yet it’s in character? And kinda works? This one has to be read to be believed.

Bone of Contention (part 1, part 2), by Michelle Kiefer and Kel People used to tell me all the time that casefiles are super easy to write while the poetic vignette is hard. Well, I can’t say which is harder but there much fewer well-done casefiles in the fandom than there are poetic vignettes. This is one of the great ones.

Antidote, by Rachel Howard A fic that manages to be both hot and cold as it imagines Mulder and Scully trying to stay alive in the frosty wilderness while a deadly virus is on the loose. This is an ooooold fic that holds up impressively well given everything that followed it!

Falling Down in Four Acts, by Anubis Anubis was actually a bunch of different writers sharing a single author name. This particular one paints an angry, vivid world for Our Heroes and their compatriots. There is no happy ending here, but I read this once and it stayed with me forever.

The Opposite of Impulse, by Maria Nicole A sweet slice of life on a sunny day. When I imagine a gentler universe for Mulder and Scully, this is the kind of place I’d put them.

What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?

Bait and Switch is probably the most sophisticated and tightly plotted. It was late in my fanfic “career” and so it shows the benefits to all that learning. My favorite varies a lot, but I’ll say Universal Invariants because that one was nothing but fun.

Do you think you'll ever write another X-Files story? Or dust off and post an oldie that for whatever reason never made it online?

I never say never! I don’t have any oldies sitting around, though. Everything I wrote, I posted.

Do you still write fic now? Or other creative work?

I write casefiles…er, I mean mysteries, under my own name now, Joanna Schaffhausen. My main series with Reed and Ellery consists of a male-female crime solving team, so I get a little bit of my XF kick that way. Their first book, The Vanishing Season, started its life as an XF fanfic back in the day. I had to rewrite it from the ground up to get it published, but if you know both stories, you can spot the similarities.

Where do you get ideas for stories?

The answer any writer will tell you is “everywhere.” Ideas are cheap and they’re all around us—on the news, on the subway, in conversations with friends, from Twitter memes, on a walk through the woods. My mysteries are often rooted in true crime, often more than one of them.

Each idea is like a strand of colored thread, and you have to braid them together into a coherent story. This is the tricky part, determining which threads belong in which story. If the ideas enhance one another or if they just create an ugly tangent.

Mostly, though, stories begin by asking “what if?” What if Scully’s boyfriend Ethan had never been cut from the pilot? What if Scully had moved to Utah after Fight the Future? What if the Lone Gunmen financed their toys by writing a successful comic book starring a thinly veiled Mulder and Scully?

Growing up, I had a sweet old lady for a neighbor. Her name was Doris and she gave me coffee ice cream while we watched Wheel of Fortune together. Every time there was a snow storm, the snow melted in her backyard in a such way that suggested she had numerous bodies buried out there. How’s that for a “what if?”

What's the story behind your pen name?

I’ve had a few of them and honestly can’t tell you where they came from, it’s been so long ago. The “6” part of syntax6 is because I joke that 6 is my lucky number. In eighth grade, my algebra teacher would go around the room in order, asking each student their answer to the previous night’s homework problems. I realized quickly that I didn’t have to do all the problems, just the fifteenth one because my desk was 15th on her list. This worked well until the day she decided to call on kids in random order. When she got to me and asked me the answer to the problem I had not done, I just invented something on the spot. “Uh…six?”

Her: “You mean 0.6, don’t you?”

Me, nodding vigorously: “YES, I DO.”

Her: “Very good. Moving on…”

Do your friends and family know about your fic and, if so, what have been their reactions?

My close friends and family have always known, and reactions have varied from mild befuddlement to enthusiastic support. My father voted in the Spookies one year, and you can believe he read the nominated stories before casting his vote. I think the most common reaction was: Why are you doing this for free? Why aren’t you trying to be a paid writer?

Well, having done both now, I can tell you that each kind of writing brings its own rewards. Fanfic is freeing because there is no pressure to make money from it. You can take risks and try new things and not have to worry if it fits into your business plan.

(Posted by Lilydale on September 15, 2020)

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