April 1, 2013 in Ajitofu, crackshots by Wasabi Warrior

Taeyeon thought that she was one of the special ones.

No, she was not mentally—retarded—ill.

Rather, she was one of the people who didn’t get what the hype about fan-fiction writers was about.

Okay, so she wasn’t that special. But still.

They came in swoops of tens and hundreds and thousands that she couldn’t tell who was who or if they were even different people. In her eyes, they all looked the same. They were the same.

Hell, they might’ve been trained to write and weave those stories for years. They could’ve been kept in a top-secret facility in the middle of the city—because their managing company liked to screw with heads that way—and she wouldn’t have noticed. They were probably hidden from attention until they were deemed ready. Of course, there would’ve been escapees and preempted releases.

But she didn’t know all that. Not until recently, at least.

Forced by her friend Tiffany to attend a fan-meeting in their city, Taeyeon was defenseless as she sat in the front row. She glanced at Tiffany, who smiled at her, and found herself smiling back. She rested anxiously on her chair and for a moment, she forgot that she didn’t care about these so-called fan-fic writers.

Taeyeon brought out her phone and was about to browse through the screen for games when she remembered that Tiffany had deleted them all hours before. She sighed. It was just like Tiffany to be thorough and unrelenting on making Taeyeon fall-in-like with whatever she was interested in.

No worries.

Taeyeon clicked on the stock camera app and looked around her. It didn’t matter if she wasn’t really doing anything. The point was to look busy so that she didn’t have to look stupid. She flicked through the settings and tried to find one she could play with. She picked the sepia setting and was getting ready to take a picture when a voice from behind interrupted her.

“Hey— you.”

Surprised, Taeyeon turned around and faced a tan girl with sunglasses that were shaped like fly’s eyes.

“M-Me?” Taeyeon asked.

“Yeah, you. You’re using your phone’s camera, aren’t you?” the woman asked.

Taeyeon wasn’t sure how to respond. The woman looked like she worked out. If she said something wrong, she might end up back in her mother’s house, broken and bruised.

“Why don’t you answer? You’re a fan, right?”

“Y-Yeah. I’m a—I’m a fan.” Hell no, she wasn’t.

“Then turn off your phone!” the woman ordered. “Didn’t the organizers already say that the fan-fic writers didn’t want pictures of them taken?”

“R-Right. I’m sorry. I’ll turn it off now.”

“You better.  If they find out about this and don’t come back anymore—pray and hope I don’t find you on Twitter.”

Taeyeon nodded and turned back around. She slid her phone back into her pocket and waited for Tiffany to come back from buying food and for the fan-meeting to start—whichever came first.

“Taeyeon! Is it starting yet?” Tiffany beamed. Carrying a bag of juice and bread, she scurried towards the seat beside Taeyeon. “Did they say anything yet?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t listeni—” Taeyeon paused. Tiffany was smiling at her. She was smiling at her. And that entailed a lot of things. “I mean, no, they didn’t say anything yet.”

“Please welcome, the hottest fan-fic group from Korea, FanFic Shidae!”

Somehow, Taeyeon knew what was coming next. She covered her ears in time for the opening of the doors and the wave of shrills that came from behind. Taeyeon hunched down as the staff tried to contain the other fans from going ballistic and bolting from the waiting area.

“That one’s Fanda,” Tiffany said. She pointed to the first member who came from the door. “And that one’s Kijo. The one after is Ora.”

Tiffany named them all, but Taeyeon couldn’t keep up. They all had weird names. Taeyeon rolled her eyes. Why couldn’t they have been named Jessica or Sunny—at least those sounded normal. But she expected as much. In fact, she wasn’t even sure which one was a girl and which was a guy—they were pretty enough to be both and acted  somewhere in-between. She didn’t even know how many they were, exactly, as they piled up from the door.

When things had settled down and everybody had taken their place, each member introduced themselves in English. Tiffany said not all fan-fic writers could speak English, so they really were special. And that they were. They spoke so fluently and used words that Taeyeon had never heard before—words like goodnight and gel. She was amazed. Honestly, she didn’t think they’d be that good.

That wasn’t all. There was a talent portion before the autograph signing and the members were all asked to show their skills. In unison, they brought out their laptops and began typing in unison. Each stroke and press was made in perfect calculation. It was a delicate dance with their fingers moving to a certain beat. Their flesh slid against the surface of the keyboard with such finesse and agility that Taeyeon had to wonder how many words they typed per minute. And their eyes—they had killer gaze, one of immense focus.

The conference room broke into an uproar. The fans went wild as the fan-fic writers performed on stage. Cheers and chants filled the air, but the writers kept at it. It seemed like they were in a trance of some sort.

Taeyeon couldn’t really understand what was happening. Everything looked and sounded like it was in another language. And yet she felt a tug in her heart. Whatever the writers were doing, it resonated with her and she found herself nodding and chanting along to words she had never heard before.  Smut, they said. OTP, they screamed. Yuri, angst, fluff—it was all mindless jargon, but it felt right.

When Taeyeon had gone home that night, something stirred within her. As soon as she got to her room, she turned the PC on and searched up the group’s details and the member’s names. She watched their other performances and she began to notice tiny nuances between the members. For example, it was amusing how would twitch or fidget at certain points—or how some writers would exchanges glances and smile from the edge of their lips, even if it was just a tenths of a second.

Soon after, Taeyeon knew she had just stumbled upon a world far greater than she could have imagined. These fan-fic writers were like gods and goddesses that were flawless regardless of everything and anything. She tried her best to update herself on their whereabouts. She watched all their performances and downloaded their videos. She could even draw their eyes from memory.

It came to a point that she began to dream eating them. Yes—not eating with them—but eating them.

Then she figured—why not write about them? Since she knew what they were like and it seemed like they were never going do the things she wanted them to, she could just create them that way.

And create them she did. So vividly, in fact, that she formulated family trees within family trees and made connections where there were none. Suddenly, Pan was an astronaut in search for space donuts. Kaytwo was a cowboy hunting down wild-girls-in-bikinis in the desert. Pyongle was a Greek mathematician who, for some reason, fell in love with someone other than Math.

Taeyeon made the impossible possible.

One day, she realized—what if fan-fic writers knew about her writing about them?

What if they wrote about her writing about them?

What if—they didn’t really exist?

What if she was you?

What if she had just wasted her time?

And if none of this really existed and she was you, then—

You just wasted your time.



Yeah, this isn’t going anywhere. You really did just waste your time. Happy April 1st. 🙂