You literally wifed yourself via fanfiction??!!?! ICONIC SHOWSTOPPING INCREDIBLE ETC ETC!!
Back in 2013-2015 I wrote a metric fuckton of fanfiction for The Newsroom because I like one type of man and it’s a middle aged petty bitch with therapist certified Daddy Issues and pathological self-denial. So my wife read my fic, liked it, and started following me on tumblr. We had vaguely known of each other before then, because we’ve both been in the same circles since joining tumblr and being active on tumblr as Sansa Stark fans in the dark ages that was season two of Game of Thrones. We didn’t interact until 2014 and honestly probably didn’t become mutuals until the next year and didn’t really become friends until we had both long moved into The 100 fandom and were like, the two peopleaboard the Clarke/Roan dinghy in 2017. From there we started to become friends.
And honestly? It took us a really long time to become friends. There was no magical moment where we became insta-BFFs or where we knew the other person was going to eventually become the person we would fall into a natural orbit with. She had just moved to South Carolina, was broke, and was working on overcoming a lot of trauma. And I was broke in NYC, working on overcoming a lot of trauma, and going through drug and alcohol related struggles of my own. We weren’t ready or capable of the kind of emotional intimacy and trust that we share now. We’d chat on the brand new tumblr messenger and occasionally she’d help me with a fic. Then in 2018, she came to BookCon in NYC and I missed being able to meet up with her because I was busy with a museum gala and didn’t get the tumblr notifications for her messages letting me know she was coming to the city – so I insisted we move our conversation to facebook messenger so I wouldn’t miss a message from her ever again.
And, like the useless lesbians who had done a lot of therapy and DBT workbooks that we were, didn’t realize we had both set our facebook settings so that only friends of friends could send us friend requests and just assumed the other person was holding the silent boundary that they didn’t want to be friends on facebook. And we wanted to respect those absolutely not true boundaries.
But we talked. Constantly. All day. Still about fandom, mostly, and fanfiction, but real life started leaking in. I had stopped doing drugs but was still struggling with binge drinking. Her mom died when she was in college and had a brand new stepmom. We had some shared childhood traumas. Through the lens of fiction we talked about what kind of relationships we wanted for ourselves, if we wanted to be mothers, what kind of mothers we wanted to be. Our relationships with sex. Our relationships with food. Our definitions of the word “family.” Our experiences with religion. Our careers. Our intentions for our lives. How we expressed and wanted to be loved. How we both felt we could never go home again. How we both know how it feels when calamity comes, and you know your life will never been the same again. I dragged her into professional wrestling. She dragged me into being a person capable of communicating her emotions and wants and needs. Her dog died. Another nephew I would never meet was born. Eventually we both realized we wanted to be facebook friends but were both desperately trying to respect the other person’s boundaries.
By November 2018, we looked back and realized we had essentially been in a long distance relationship for six months. In May 2019, I moved down to South Carolina to be with her because I couldn’t imagine putting myself on a plane back to LaGuardia ever again. We got legally married two weeks later due to fears that if one of us got hit by a bus, we wouldn’t be able to visit each other in the hospital or make healthcare decisions. Neither of us could stomach letting my family run the show if I died.
We’ve known each other for almost ten years now. We’ve been together for almost four. Married since 2019 and are going to finally have a wedding this December after postponing it twice.
The fic that made her think I was the kind of person she could marry? Paterfamilias, written and posted in the fall of 2014 as I was getting a C-PTSD diagnosis after finally disclosing to a therapist the abuse I endured as a child.
And now she gets all the fic spoilers and to read everything I write long before everyone else does, which she assures me is the fic reader’s dream. You can follow her at @echrai.
I love fanfiction because sometimes The Character needs to be held gently and sometimes they need to be beaten to death with a club. and you 🫵 can make both of those happen. for free
“Yeah? You like to watch me, don’t you?” she asks, hips grinding without rhythm over his cock, into the head of the vibrator she’s positioned at the bundle of nerves at the apex of her folds.
It’s his night off, and she’s two hours past the end of her shift. Today wasn’t bad; it wasn’t good, either. Her lower back aches and the arches of her feet are crying out for mercy. And clearly, based on how she found Jack when she let herself into his house, he woke up feeling the effects of the cold front moving through. It was a day. It was fine, it was long, and now it’s over.
For the most part.
“You know I love to watch you, baby,” Jack says, sprawled out where she found him. Fingers laced under the base of his skull, he does watch her. “I’d watch you all day, if I could. You could read the phonebook and I’d be riveted.”
She has no doubt. Still, she takes the opportunity to smirk down at him. “Do they even print phonebooks anymore, old man?”
Seasonal Affective Disorder is just emotional scurvy, all my core wounds are reopening and they won’t be fixed until the big lemon in the sky comes back
ALT
