#she’s a fairshaw lover at heart | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

annetaylor1 · 3 years

Text

Why does fanfic make people so angry?

I have always been fascinated by all the emotions that get stirred up by fanfic. Both positive and negative.

So many times, I've heard fanfic writers' stories about how they were harassed by angry reader comments or twitter posts from people who objected, not to the quality of their writing, but to what they chose to write about.

In the commercial OC world, where writers actually expect to be paid for their work, if someone were to write an on-line comment saying "yeah, it's well written but they got their facts wrong, <this thing> never happened" it would be considered a totally legitimate comment. References might be brought into the conversation, if anyone cared enough to do the research.

If someone were to suggest "this character wouldn't have done this" or "this offends me, you shouldn't write it", well, the first objection is probably laughable and the second might be hotly contested or defended, depending on one's belief system and allegiances.

The fanfic community is a completely different world, in some ways.

First of all, fanfic writers don't get paid. When they write, it is entirely out of love for the characters or world, and when they share, positive feedback is the only reward that they will have. If you are writing to get paid, the readers who pay for your book expect, and deserve, a higher quality of writing. You are expected to do your research, to make the details accurate. It isn't fair to apply those standards to fanfic writers. Many of them are just starting out, many of them are writing in a second language. And if you aren't paying for something, you don't have the "right" to complain about its quality.

Second, with OC fiction, readers don't come into the story with pre-set expectations. Occasionally I will read fanfic from fandoms that I know nothing about, if it matches some of my trigger tropes (dub-con, h/c, enemies-to-lovers). But for the most part, readers have already watched the series or played the game and read the book(s) and they have constructed, inside their heads, a set of expectations about how the characters will behave. This causes them to react negatively when writing violates those expectations.

Which leads to the third difference. The biggest reason people write, and read, fanfic is because they want *more*. More than canon offers them. Occasionally, the world is so cool people want to explore in it, but more often it is the characters that people want more of. They have become emotionally invested in the characters, and when you have feelings for imaginary characters it leads you to want to be in control of their environment.

Control issues make people feel threatened. Feeling threatened leads them into lashing out angrily. But they don't want to admit (or possibly even acknowledge) what the real problem is, so they often grab the first thing that comes to mind in order to explain their feelings.

I remember running into this once because of an X-Files story I wrote back in the day. One reader was outraged by how I had characterized Mulder. She kept insisting "He wouldn't have done this. Or this." I completely disagreed; I felt my characterization of Mulder was fairly accurate. The disagreement pretty much ended our relationship. In retrospect, the whole things seems very petty, but when emotions flare so hotly, it seldom ends well.

The real problem wasn’t that Mulder wouldn’t have done those things. We’ll never know, because we aren’t writing canon. The problem was that what I was writing was not what emotionally satisfied her. And I suppose my telling her that I had written it partly for her led her to expectations that weren’t satisfied. And that caused an emotional backlash.

It’s a backlash I have felt personally, many times. Just recently, I saw a bit of Fairshaw artwork that was violently lovely. So sad I felt it would rip my heart apart. And then I read the fanfic that went with the artwork and my expectation had been that the scene would be tragic, then lead to a rescue and a happy ending. It didn’t. I’m still trying to shed the emotional backlash from that story.

If I was a less self-aware person, I might have become angry at the writer. But that’s idiocy. People have the right to write whatever they want. Even if I don’t like what they write, I fully support their right to enjoy what they enjoy. I didn’t take the “major character death” seriously. Fie on me. That’s what tags are for.

I have no patience at all for people who read stories tagged for a M/M pairing and then complain that “the characters aren’t gay.”

They are, in this story. Read the tags, people. That’s what they’re there for.

#fanfic #writers #writing #fan fiction

6 notes · View notes

sheyshen · 4 years

Text

Patch stuff had me thinking and inspired me a little bit so... Some Shey dealing with Anduin being kingnapped among some other things and some background fairshaw because I wanted to write Mathias and Flynn since they’re her friends.

It was late. Really really late. Shey knew she shouldn’t be up right now, but she couldn’t sleep. Anduin was missing, the scourge were starting to rampage, there was a blasted hole in the sky. And she felt useless. She hadn’t been in Stormwind when the king had been taken, hadn’t been there to protect her son, the only family she had left.

It wasn’t her fault, or Genn, or Mathias though both the Worgen and spy blamed themselves as much as they blamed the true guilty party. But even though she knew deep down that there was nothing any of them could’ve done to prevent this, the guilt still gnawed at her. So instead she walked through the halls of the keep, heading to the one place she would go when her mind wouldn’t let her rest. Turning she recognized a familiar coat, the owner doing his best to look as unassuming as possible.

Which might’ve worked had it not been well past two in the morning. Still, the guards ignored him as he strode past them and poked his head into a side room before continuing on.

“Flynn.” Shey smiled at him as he started, turning to look at her a large grin masking how surprised he had been.

“Ah! Commander! Fancy seeing you here.” He strode up to her, the smile never leaving his face. “Now what are you doing wandering the halls of the keep?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” She pointed out, laughing lightly, “Looking for Mathias?”

He scratched the back of his neck, “perhaps. Or I could be here to see you, or Taelia, or…” he seemed to be dragging out a long pause.

“The spymaster is in the war room down that way.” She gestured back the way she came. Flynn thanked her and hurried past her, “And Flynn. When you see him, try to get him to get some rest. Tell him it’s my orders if he refuses.”

“Will do.” He looked like he wanted to say more. She had nearly bid him farewell and continued on her way when he nodded toward the halls she had exited from, “You should go get some sleep too.”

“I have some things to attend to, besides the bed’s too big for me alone.” She waved him off, “Don’t worry so much about me, go find Shaw before he wanders off to find more work to do.”

Flynn looked like he was going to argue, insist that she should take her own advice but finally, he nodded, wished her good night, and hurried off toward the war room.

Alone once more she returned to her intended goal, taking another hallway to the gardens and then to the attached library. Her little safe haven amongst the hustle and bustle of the day to day. She browsed around, picked out a well-worn book, sat down, and began flipping through the pages. Inside was a letter, the edges worn and had been obviously handled numerous times.

It was addressed to her, and even before opening it she already knew what it said. She ran her fingers along the edge of the seal, the wax broken years ago, opened the letter carefully, and took out the single page folded inside. She didn’t unfold it, instead, she put both the letter and the envelope on the nearby table and leaned back in her chair, picking gently at the edge of the paper as she let out a heavy breath.

She doubted she could read the letter now, though she knew every word by heart, it hurt too much to think about it. But as always on nights like this, she debated on what to do. The letter detailed a gift hidden away in the gardens. One she knew of, she knew what it was, what it meant. But hadn’t been able to bring herself to get it yet. It was from Varian, meant to be an anniversary present when she returned home from some last-minute requests she had needed to attend to.

But the Legion invading delayed things, and she hadn’t found the letter until after he had…

She picked up the letter, carefully putting it back into the envelope. She debated on putting it back in the book, putting it away, perhaps she’d be braver next time, be able to deal with finding the last thing she’d ever receive from the one she loved most, that’s loss still tore at her heart even with Gul’dan’s death. She knew next time she’d still chicken out, she knew herself well enough that if she hadn’t been able to make herself go and open the gift over the past few years she wouldn’t be able to do it tomorrow either.

She pushed herself to her feet, deciding that maybe at least taking the gift from its hiding place would be a step forward. She pocketed the letter, mentally following the clue that had been written down, and went to the corner of the garden that was attached to the library. Underneath a bench that faced toward the ocean was a hidden compartment. Shaw normally kept a hidden weapon there in case he or the royal family had been caught off guard, but currently, it also held a small box. Taking it from its hiding place, Shey turned it in her hand. Simple, a blue ribbon kept it tied shut, and the box looked untouched even after all this time.

She inspected it, before pocketing the box and leaving the gardens. She strode out of the keep, taking the pathways along the canals, nodding towards the guards that kept watch and the death knights and paladins that had set up posts to keep an eye out for undead. They let her be, greeting her with a simple ‘commander’ or ‘ma’am’ or ‘majesty’. She still wasn’t fond of the last of those, while she knew the title was merely a formality it still never sat well to be regarded as anything other than what she was, a mage just trying to help.

Crossing the bridge to the gardens she strode up to Varian’s grave. It was quiet now, her friends and comrades that had swarmed where Anduin had been last having turned either to different leads in hopes of finding their missing king or had decided to get some well-needed sleep. She ran her hand on the stone, wanting to say something but knowing that there was nothing she could say. She was sorry she couldn’t protect Anduin? That she didn’t know what to do? That she couldn’t forget, couldn’t move on? Instead, she sat down on the steps, pulling out the box, and ran her hand along it.

She didn’t hear him approach but wasn’t surprised when she heard Shaw speak up. “Mind if I join you?”

She gave him a sad smile, “Please.”

He seated himself next to her and let out a heavy breath.

“I take it Flynn couldn’t convince you to go to bed.”

He chuckled, a rare sound coming from her friend. “He tried, but he ended up falling asleep first.” He dug around in his bag, pulled free a flask, and took a swig before offering it to her.

“Thanks.” She took it, sipping at it in thought. “I…”

“Don’t. This isn’t your fault.” He took the flask when she handed it back to him. “We’ll find him.”

“He’s my son, Mathias. If I can’t protect him…” She cringed, hating even the thought of what might happen.

“And my friend.” He stared her down, “We’ll find him.” He repeated as he drank from the flask, turning away to look over the gardens again, quietly adding “we will.” at the end. It sounded more like an attempt to convince himself rather than her.

Taking the flask she sipped at it once more. She picked at the box that still sat on her lap, rubbing the ribbon between her fingers.

“You finally opened it?”

She glanced at Shaw before shaking her head. “Not yet. I can’t bring myself to. But it’s a step.”

"Did you know Fairwind named his parrot after me?"

Shey rose her eyebrow at the change in subject. She huffed a laugh, "did he now."

"He thought it was funny." He smiled faintly, the look on his face affectionate. "Not as much when it warmed up to me faster than to him."

"Did he bring little Mathias with him when he came to Stormwind?"

"No, actually. Seems the bird gets seasick. Stays in Boralus with Cyrus whenever Flynn comes to visit."

Shey grinned. "So no parrot sitting on Anduin's shoulder during meetings I take it."

Mathias nearly choked on the contents of the flask, likely some of Flynn's rum if Shey was able to guess by the taste, "no. Absolutely not. Thank the light for that. It already can mimic his voice nearly perfectly. I don't need it following me around the keep too."

She chuckled at his sudden loss of composure, a rare moment that likely wouldn't be repeated easily. "I'll be sure to watch out for him next time I'm out there." She grinned.

"I'm sure you two will get along." He seemed to hesitate before handing the flask to her, but in the end, he pushed it into her hand. "Rest is yours."

"Thanks." She took a gulp, finishing off the drink and handing the now empty flask back to its temporary owner. He put it away as she leaned back and watched the stars, the pair lapsing into a comfortable silence. After a few moments, she spoke up again, "hey Mathias? Thank you. For coming to sit with me tonight." She yawned, suddenly feeling exhausted.

"You needed the break."

"As did you." Barely a few seconds passed and she felt as if she could barely stay awake. "Did you… did you put something in-" she practically collapsed mid-sentence as whatever he had slipped into the drink took hold and she fell asleep.

The next thing she knew was waking up in her bed. She bolted upright as she awoke. Glancing around the room she found her friend asleep on a thin bedding on the floor, Flynn hugging onto him tightly as the sailor grumbled in his sleep.

Getting out of bed she strode across the room sitting down and narrowing her eyes at the spy as he looked up at her.

"I can't believe you."

"You needed your sleep." He spoke quietly, trying not to wake the man who had a death grip on his shirt.

"I was fine." She also stayed quiet, the pair arguing back and forth in whispers. "I would’ve slept eventually."

"Or passed out at your desk like last time." Flynn shifting made him glance back but the man only rolled over onto his other side and continued his grumbling. Free from his lover's grip Mathias sat up. "You need your strength, If anyone is going to find Anduin it'll be you."

A mix of emotion flashed across her face before she sighed, "I suppose you're right." She admitted. She glanced around the room, "why did you sleep here anyway? I don't mind, but your room is nearby, you didn't need to stay here."

"Flynn's suggestion. He said you seemed lonely, and I'm inclined to agree." He watched her carefully. "Whatever is to happen next I have a feeling it will be over my head, so allow me to make sure you have a home to return."

She debated on what to say, before settling on "thank you."

"Heey." Flynn’s groggy voice joined in as he sat up. His eyes were still closed and his face was scrunched up like he was quietly cursing how bright the room was, but he smiled at them. "What are you two chatting about?"

"You of course." Shey grinned at him.

He laughed, went to say something then stopped and buried his face in his hands, grumbling something as he tried to wipe the sleep from his eyes.

Mathias pushed himself to his feet, Shey followed suit and then turned to gather her gear to prepare for the day.

"I'll gather reports for you before you leave for Northrend." He stretched as he spoke.

She nodded, "we can go over them while we eat. I have some things to leave for Genn before I go so I'll meet you in the dining hall."

"I'll be sure to keep things brief." He gave her a formal nod and left the room to get things in order.

Flynn flopped back down still grumbling that it was too early, before kicking off the blankets and getting to his feet, stretching, and then dug around his bag. Not finding what he was looking for he scrunched his eyebrows in confusion for a moment before remembering and then looking towards his friend. "Did chatting with Matie help?"

"It did." She huffed a laugh, "though I'm not sure how I feel about him spiking the drink to get me to get some sleep." She stepped around a corner, dug out some clothes, and pulled them on while she spoke. "But yes, it helped."

He wandered the room, inspecting the furniture and decorations that took up much of the space. "You weren't kidding about how big the bed was. This whole room seems a bit big for one. But…" he shrugged.

"I used to share it with another." He glanced at her when she cut him off. "Anduin was supposed to make this room his and I to return to my previous quarters. But he refused. Said he wasn't ready." She didn't elaborate more.

He watched her as the pieces clicked into place. An unopened box sat on the edge of a chest of drawers. He picked it up, inspected it, and then turned and handed it to her. She looked at it, the gift she still debated on what to do with, the end that she didn't want to face. Anduin wasn't the only one who wasn't ready to face that Varian was forever gone.

Flynn put his hand on her shoulder, "then if you need someone to stay with you let me know. I'm not always in the city, so if I'm not I'm sure Matie’ll offer the same even though he likely wouldn't say it." He cocked his head, a goofy grin on his face, "I mean, we're friends right?"

"We are." She smiled at him.

He released her shoulder. "Right. Now, I need to get me a drink, and I'm sure you need to get to your own things and. Just, be careful alright?” He pulled her into a hug, “Come back safe."

"I'll do my best." She returned the hug.

"Good." He looked like he wanted to say more but instead stepped away, waving goodbye as he turned and left the room.

She wondered if he had debated on offering to travel with her. But an ice block full of undead likely didn’t sit in with what he was willing to face down for much of anyone but Shaw. Still, she was grateful for his support, even with how wild things have been.

She looked at the gift in her hands and settled on what she would do. She tucked it away in the side table next to the bed, closing and locking the drawer. When Anduin was home safe then she would face this, but for now, she had taken a step forward and had a world to save.

#my writing #oc: shey wrynn #mathias shaw #flynn fairwind #wow #world of warcraft

9 notes · View notes