Some thoughts on 'X Reader' fics

For breakfast on Saturdays, I eat my chocolate muffin and drink cold milk from my yellow mug. Next to me is a blue leather bag hanging off the chair. I smell this as I enjoy melted chocolate. 

After this lovely breakfast, I return to my room and enjoy the pinnacle of literature: X Reader fan fiction.

—

It all started one day when I came across a Marco X Reader drabble of sorts on Tumblr. I read it, thought it was delightful and reblogged it. I checked out the writer's blog and was immediately impressed by the masterlist, the careful curating of their masterlist. It's been years since I last even made a masterlist myself (I typically post on AO3 and thus see no need for it) so seeing one so nicely done, with proper headings and even the nice graphic for borders instead of the generic line, made me unbelievably happy.

Following this, I read their other works, mainly for the Whitebeard pirates, kicking my feet all the while. I won't say their writing made my heart melt or my soul sing like some great books have, but it made me happy.

The subtly cringe but affectionate feeling of being addressed by the second-person pronoun (as if I'm in the same room as these people), the rapid nodding of 'oh yes, I am in fact a Whitebeard Pirate who's also conveniently drop dead gorgeous' despite the vague self-awareness, the absolute delusion of imagining yourself to be with these people—all of that is such a wonderful feeling. When I read these X Reader drabbles, I smile uncontrollably, not because it's well-written per se or because it's funny, but because I can tell that the writer particularly adores this character, and it's infectious. 

Arbitrarily speaking, it's more passionate than shipping. Personally, I ship characters and pair them with whoever I fancy. It takes another level of pure-hearted commitment, in my view, to bypass any respect for the canon material, and to just claim this character as your own and call them your significant other. Cringe, maybe, delusional, maybe, 'out of touch', call it whatever, but I respect that. It's a special type of love that cannot be confined by social norms.

—

The pure passion in creating content under this genre is inspiring.

There's no (monetary) incentive to writing this, let alone for writing this long and this much. Yet, people do it. As someone who gets hung up over numbers, it's an admirable attitude. I get frustrated when something doesn't do as well as I'd like. Despite my best efforts, I do think about what gets popular and such thoughts influence what I make, even if subconsciously.

X Reader fan fiction is written for the love of the character, for the love of the game, rather than to please the crowd. Perhaps that's what makes them so infectiously delightful and ironically, so crowd-pleasing. At least, it makes me want to read more. A warm, selfish love for something is the thing that touches people first, before the numbers or even the question, 'is it cringe'?

Thoughts of writing an original work for the first time

 

Since my last visit to the National Museum Singapore, I professed wanting to write a story inspired by Singaporean history. I got to work today.

On the way home, as I walked to the appropriate train platform, I kept thinking, 'wouldn't it be nice to write a book'? To have something full and substantial with my creativity? Not that writing fan fiction is inherently wrong or uncreative, but maybe I should tell my own stories with my own characters and ideas steeped into the narrative from start to finish.

—

I never understood the fear of a blank page when it came to writing.

Before I start every fan fiction project, regardless of whether it gets finished, regardless of length, I will always have a scene or two that begs to be written. From there, everything else coagulates. I go to sleep and I dream of something that I scramble to write and remember the following morning. I take a walk, and a dialogue just hit me, as if it's meant to be from the beginning. Ideas flow better if I have the right song playing for atmosphere. 

Sometimes, yes, I'll need to make things up. Those made-up sections always flow awkwardly since they lack the spontaneous freshness that comes from a shower thought. For the parts that have that, though, I'll still need to fill in the gaps, context, lead up, and conclusions that don't come with the fun parts in every vision I have. I think of that as applying fresh cement to hide the cracks, make the original block brand new.

Here, though I'm truly with a blank page, armed with nothing more than a vague aesthetic, two names of characters I don't know and have yet to call my own and the itch to create and make this story real somehow, that if I do not try, I will feel guilty.

I get over the inertia to write one sentence, "It's unusually rainy at this time of year in the Trees." It isn't a good starter. Not very impactful and doesn't tell you the plot. I read somewhere that the first sentence of any project is the DNA of the story, one that tells you up front what the emotional texture will be and a vague indication of the plot. I didn't get that here, but I needed something.

From there, an exposition wrote itself. Not a good one. I typically dislike rambly text dumps, both as a reader and writer, but a rambly text dump is a more suitable foundation than a blank page. I press on, and now my character Thomas is in love with a woman who's the mother of an original character I designed years ago. At least now, I know what Thomas looks like. He has black hair and blue eyes. He is a reserved man. He is a politician.

Most importantly, I realise somewhat stupidly that this will not be a novel. I do not have the patience. I don't even know what happens to them. Yet, the more I write, the more I imbue these people with a personality and backstory that has a unique depth that I never give to fan fiction. It's demanding, but if it works, I'll have something with substance, something that matters.

Perhaps this project will exist as a short story, or not at all. Yet, the forty minutes spent giving light to this world have convinced me ever more that this is real. It can finally take shape outside of my head in the form of ill-defined images peppered here and there. I feel creative, like I'm finally giving my time and skills a purpose I've never felt before. It is invigorating.

A tip to the museum

View Outside a House in Singapore, Percy Carpenter 

One rainy afternoon, I left my humble abode to go to collect a poster for my sister. After doing that, I decided to dilly-dally and visit the National Museum of Singapore. I've been there before with my friend, but only as a way to kill time before eating Korean Barbeque. 

Now, I'm truly there on a whim and I was determined to be inspired for my LuLaw fan fiction.

Ceramic imported from China in ~14th Century

Some gorgeous jewellry.

Even more ceramics!

The first exhibit I went to featured display cases of historical artefacts. Shards of white porcelain with intricate hand-painted leaves, flowers and grapes in blue ink, dull blades worn from hunting and fighting, intricate gold jewellery native inhabitants wore—all housed in sturdy glass cases, accompanied by detailed descriptions that pull me into the world that is Singapore in the 14th century. It's nice seeing them as real objects beyond flattened images in secondary school history textbooks.

Ocassionally, there'd be large projector screens displaying artistic representations of the natives living their lives. If you walk a bit further in, you'd be greeted with a panoramic display of the native people in huts lifted a foot off the ground. A set of three mangrove trees greets you. You'd hear the sounds, the thunderstorms, the idle chatter, the rustle of the untamed jungle from back then. Props of pottery and boxes were the flourish to create immersion.

I thought of a fan fiction project I was working on. The premise is simple: Law and Luffy are children, 14 and 7, respectively. Luffy uses his big brother's bicycle to go up the hill to see Law almost every day. Law speaks exclusively in modern-day Singlish. That is the comedic value; a stern, antisocial but pretty boy speaking so roughly with the occasional burst of propriety when he wants to be comforting or firm.

The intention was to be a meet-cute between the two boys. Luffy is playful and silly, always dragging Law into unfortunate circumstances where the latter gets injured, though by choice. Law's guardian is furious and tries to ban them from meeting. Luffy's older brothers are wary of the older boy Luffy associates himself with. A vague, loose 'Romeo and Juliet' plot where love triumphs and the boys get their chance to be childhood sweethearts, even if their 'happily ever after' isn't described.

It's just for fun. A story perfectly in line with my ethos to keep narratives simple but lovingly written.

Clothing worn by a coolie

However, the more I wander through the exhibition, the more I get a better picture of the sort of Singaporean landscape the boys would inhabit. It's a different country from the urban Singapore I live in today. The historical Singapore I saw glimpses of today was humid, dominated by rain and mangrove forests and wildlife, a more intimate connection to objects. 

On one hand, life is tedious and rife with harsh physical labour. They might not even be native to Singapore. Mostly, they came from China and British India. They were convicts, immigrants driven by poverty because there weren't any jobs where they were from. They'd pull rickshaws, work in factories tapping rubber, make bricks with sand and water, and lay the roads—the physical work society needs but no one wants to do.

(An exhibit that struck me on this point was this immersive display of coolies in crammed rooms, divided up into bunks that look more like shelves than respectable beds. They'd talk, and smoke opium to relieve their stress, which 'an addction would cost them their job and living space').

For the affluent, they read trade documents written in a beautiful script. According to a select page from a book I've seen in a display case, the English living there ate curry for breakfast with rice. They'd read intricate maps. They'd have the time to paint villas in water colour, capturing the delicate balance between English countryside manicured and tropical plants. 

Seeing this, I wanted to create a richer picture in my fan fiction. I wanted Singlish but I wanted heart. I wanted something that represented (in my way, anyway), the hardships these people went through, the lives they had and their homes. I also wanted to show love, tender moments of gentleness and delicacy that overall historical moments simply cannot capture.

A still from a projector

Sorry, Luffy, your older brother is the cooler one.

While brainstorming, I thought of moments of how Law could bond with Ace and Sabo. When I thought of it, my heart ached. They love Law. They realise that their stinky little brother Luffy of all people brought home someone special. Law's grumpy, irritable and blunt, but he cares and speaks nicely. 

Initially, Ace and Sabo are the ones working hard to support Luffy. Ace is a rickshaw puller but does construction work while Sabo's studying to be a politician or a businessman or some sort. After Law gets with Luffy, Law gets more time to bond with them. Law pokes fun at Sabo for being so serious and praises his handwriting, saying it's neater than his. Law treats Ace's sores and injuries, similarly poking fun but encourages him with a gentle smile.

Yes, Law and Luffy are silly, but there's legitimate heart with the older brothers and I don't want to write a 'forbidden love' story. It's odd. People have agency. If they're willing to face the consequences for their actions, then yeah, people can do whatever they want, no matter how reckless or dangerous. Besides, I don't want to put either Ace or Sabo on the 'cuck chair'.

I wrote a little on the train on the way home. I thought of Ace looking at Law with so much love, thinking that Luffy's an idiot, that life isn't fair. It pained my heart so much I've decided to change the pairring. Of course, Luffy's the one to introduce Law to them.

Apparently, rickshaws are typically made in Japan. They're made locally too but of worse quality and they barely last at most five years.

I thought of a scene where one day, Ace falls terribly ill and has a fever. He can't work for at least a week and dreads seeing a doctor. They don't have enough money as is. He feels horrible. He keeps thinking he could at least do short runs but he feels like fainting every time. He refuses to let Sabo work because Sabo's a student and he needs his energy. He refuses to let his little brother work so hard, either. That kid should play and have fun. 

No doctors, he insists. Yet, he can't turn down Law who kicks his way into their hut. After all, Luffy brought him here. Law broke curfew to see him. He jumped out the window with his box of medical supplies when he heard Luffy call for him, crying and begging for medicine. Law vows to sit next to Ace and take care of him himself until he gets better. 

He brings Ace salted fish, bean sprouts and rice in these beautiful porcelain plates Ace knows he can never afford. Law force-feeds him medicine and does homework while keeping Ace company. He talks to Luffy and Sabo on Ace's behalf, telling them about how guilty Ace feels and how proud he is to have them as brothers. Ace looks at Law all the while, through half-lidded eyes and heavy breathing. He thinks he's fallen in love with an angel, more beautiful than pearls and flowers.

He isn't ashamed of his position, but he just wishes even more that it's better. 

One day, when those two get on their feet, Ace would clean himself up, save a little money and wear proper clothes. He'd cycle up the hill to go to Law's house, a mansion atop a hill with a manicured garden. There, he'd meet Law's guardian, a dignified white man in a nice shirt and trousers, smoking tobacco.

To him, Ace would say, "Mister, I want to marry your son. I can look after him and give him a good life with honest money. Please give me your blessing. I will love and treasure him forever." He needed to get better at English first, though.

A diaroma of a bill being passed for Singapore to merge with Malaysia

I saw a video of the late Lee Kwan Yew, 'MP with the Press' or something of a similr sort. It's black and white footage. The focus was on him, surrounded left and right with his fellow ministers. Opposite the ensemble, were the journalists and, of course a camera filming them.

Gravely, he spoke about what it meant to separate from Malaysia, his hopefulness and painful resignation that Singapore's union with Malaysia will not work out. He mentions that he hasn't put all his thoughts in writing but I found his him articulate and admirable. It's a different type of great from the over the top personalities I see in One Piece. It's muted, thoughtful, with a touch of introverted. It's exemplified best in his word play when he says:

Just like how a river loops and bends around mountains and valleys before it reaches the sea, so the history of a people takes many loops and bends, before it reaches its destiny.

Those seven minutes inspired me. It made me want to design a character not based off the late Lee Kwan Yew, but inspired by him. An educated Chinese man in a nicely-ironed suit made in the West. A man who speaks slowly to make sure he pronounces every word perfectly, crisply, not minding if it sounds stiff because he spent too many all-nighters learning English to care about sounding warm and quite frankly unprofessional. The sort who turns heads but is usually alone.

Before going home, I did something unprofessional by dilly-dallying. I went to the basement, thinking I might find a merch store. Instead, I found the entrance to an exhibit depicting Singapore's oceans or something.

Regardless, upon entering, you'd see a series of maps depicting Singapore. By this point, I was exhausted and desperate to use the restroom. Yet, the fine details on the maps impressed me. 

On these large, fantastic spreads of paper, someone sat over a desk with a pen, bottle of ink and a ruler, drawing every line on a grid, sketching the continents with a delicate touch. The hours that must've gone into this work, to writing the words neatly, mapmaking is an art form that I found a new appreciation for.

So, what if in contrast to a politician, we have an eccentric and hardworking mapmaker?

They travel the world, they've seen everything but crave to see more, they intimately know what is being traded because they're the ones organising these trade expeditions. Yes, they love their drink but they also love the moments of sobriety where they draw maps, plotting their journey and where their next destination should be. All with the same cheap pen they bought when they were eighteen, just with different inks and papers.

For a little more details on their relationship, please accept a little ramble I scribbled on Telegram.

The aristocrat wants to stay in Singapore to build the country but the other one wants adventure! They're pining for the other to go with them, but the other person's way of life will always be undesirable for them. Hence, they're stuck in an odd state of friendship they can't leave because they won't sacrifice their ideals. It's kinda sad, but I want to push the limit of what it means to be friends.

Right person, wrong time! The other guy doesn't want to settle down yet but the other doesn't feel at ease enough to leave.

Perhaps I shall call them Leo and Thomas.

Maybe I'll give them the light of day... Maybe I won't. Either way, just sharing this snippet of a story with you was fun. I'd like to write at least a short story of them. I'd like to one day write a book on them to y'know, have my own stake in the future of Singapore culture, inspired by the past.