LY 42 Debrief: On Fandom, Boundaries, and Frogs in Baths
I love writing fiction because I can so carefully craft a world or a scene or a plot point to perfectly execute the broader point that I’m trying to make. It’s satisfying to watch it all come together and do the thing I wanted it to do, my big idea tucked into a tidy little box. I loved writing 42 because I got to do exactly that. And then sometimes I write my tidy little box of a piece and still have more to say. Sometimes I’ll journal a little debrief, a way to work through all the thoughts I stirred up while writing.
So now, lest you’d like to listen, I’d like to share that debrief and tell you about some of the choices I made while crafting that tidy little box and why I made them.
In TBV, Dan and Phil called this a new era, said the phandom is grown up and they’ve forgiven us. I’m very grateful that they have been able to forgive the phandom. They touched on some of the most egregious boundary crossings they experienced — the ones that easily come to everyone who was around’s mind without me having to list them out for you. But also, I think it’s important to acknowledge that those extremes didn’t spring up out of nowhere. There was an accepted level of boundary crossing that was normalized throughout the entire phandom, that created a permission structure for more and more boundary crossing.
I appreciate their forgiveness, but since we’ve been given it, I’m not sure if there’s been enough self reflection on what it means that we needed forgiveness in the first place (or maybe people are doing this privately, or maybe it’s just not come across my dash). Part of being forgiven is reckoning with your own actions and making sure you won’t do them again. So, in some ways, ly42 and this debrief are my direct response to that.
***
I’ve been thinking about boundaries and fandom and the razor thin line between loving and creative support, and actions that can cause harm a lot lately. I don’t think that’s a particularly unique line of thinking in the phandom, or at least I hope it isn’t.
But I’m also still reckoning with the question that — again, I hope — many of us are: what are boundaries that are reasonable and kind and fair to extend to people? To people who willingly put themselves in the public eye and professionally share their life with the world? To people who are constantly adjusting and learning for themselves where they want the boundaries to be?
To people?
When writing this chapter, I kept circling back to the same thoughts. Where does my enjoyment come at the expense of someone else’s peace? And why, in the dark of the night, do I sometimes forget that that’s not an acceptable trade off?
***
I organized this chapter the way I did for a reason.
Toxic things don’t tend to just appear. I like to believe that most people would walk away from toxic situations if they came out of the gate as recognizably toxic. The thing about toxicity is: it tends to creep up. It’s slow. Each step is normalized before the next step is added. We see this in so many arenas — in radicalization, in domestic violence, in toxic friendships, in cults, and a million other examples.
Fandom isn’t immune.
This chapter was, on purpose, meant to slowly escalate. To see how innocent posts can spark potentially harmful responses, how small curiosities can become boundary-crossing investigations. To start as tepid water and become a pleasantly warm bath, to becoming hot but maybe not glaringly so. To see how, when surrounded by equally passionate fans, how well-meaning, curious people can participate in the shifting of boundaries without noticing it. It was, very intentionally, a frog in a pot.
So much of fandom is wonderful. It’s community and shared-love and a whole network of support and cheerleading that a lot of people don’t get to experience irl. Most of fandom lies in the happy, comfortable zone, and I purposefully wrote the most posts in what I dubbed the warm bath section to showcase that. To honor that.
The too-hot and boiling sections were smaller because, in my experience, they’re smaller in real life, too. But they’re often the loudest, most memorable parts too.
At least in my opinion, there isn’t only one problematic fan in ly42. If you walked out of the chapter thinking there was only one bad apple, I’d encourage you to read it again, thinking about each post from ly!dnp’s perspective — whose inner thoughts and emotions you are very familiar with — and see if anything else feels invasive.
Some boundaries I intentionally crossed while writing ly42, many of which had their roots in real life phandom experiences I’ve seen or had or been a part of:
There was a lot of speculation about ly!dnp’s sex life throughout the chapter — who tops/bottoms, is there any kind of dom/sub element, does Dan have a praise kink, etc? For new phans: back in the day, it was basically considered taboo to write top!Dan. Top!Dan fics or posts would get everything from less reads/kudos to active pushback. Even at the time, it felt invasive and like Too Much. Looking back, I wonder how it affected particularly Dan to see this (very loud) discourse in his fan base? How it felt, while struggling with so much internalized homophobia, to have people talk about your bedroom preferences with such charged emotions? How it felt for everyone to assume the wrong thing, to pretty viciously argue that no, he could never be the top? How much those assumptions probably chafed at the internalized homophobia? I know we all laugh about the “I’m a top” campaign Dan’s been on since the hard launch. It has always made me wonder, though, how much it stems from pain that we caused. I’m so happy that he has the freedom and comfort and confidence to scream that he’s a top now, but I wish we hadn’t spent so many years pushing this particular button.
musicbidanhowell was a recurring character throughout the chapter. I wanted them to be a model of how good-hearted enthusiasm can blind someone to reasonable boundaries, can be so all-consuming that it’s easy to cross a line or two without noticing. This person’s curiosity is so understandable and relatable, and their findings are so interesting!! But… should they really have been scrutinizing every inch of Phil’s video backdrop? And, going a step further, should they have been scrutinizing every inch of Adaline’s selfie background — a person who surely did not consider that possibility when she posted a selfie to her personal instagram?
And related to that — how appropriate is it that there’s at least one account dedicated to Adaline? From what we’ve seen in the LY canon, Adaline seems to have no idea that she’s in the public eye. Does having your instagram unlocked and being related to someone famous mean that you consent to thousands of people following you? Is it appropriate for dh fans to be following Adaline at all, if their primary reason for doing so is her proximity and similarity to Dan?
And speaking of zooming in on every pixel of content… why was someone zooming in on Phil’s deliveroo account? What was the goal there? Was that really an appropriate thing to do in the first place? Are content creators responsible for making sure to omit every single little detail that they don’t want to share or could reveal too much? Personally, I think it’s reasonable that Dan didn’t think about the .2 seconds Phil’s deliveroo screen flashed to the camera and it’s out of bounds for someone to spend the time freezing the video on the right frame and zooming in until they can read the text that very easily could have contained his exact address.
Fans discover Dan’s private instagram and their first reaction is to try to find a way to access it. And from a fan perspective, god, I get the curiosity. What a violation, though, to intentionally try to gain access to privately posted content — especially with the goal of sharing that content with the wider fanbase. This was meant to be a parallel for all the archaeology that used to happen — the digging up and circulating of all the formspring and dailybooth and pre-hello internet tweets.. That still happens, I think, except I’ve blocked most of the people who do it from my dash now. I know Dan said archaeology was “okay” when asked, but it didn’t feel like permission freely given to me. If a friend borrows your sweater for ten years and you keep asking for it back and they continue keeping it, and then you, after ten years, finally say “okay it’s your sweater now” — was that really a gift? And if it was, was it a gift willingly given? Because I don’t think so. I refuse to engage with anything that touches the realm of archaeology because, to me, it feels like if DnP had real, honest control, they wouldn’t have shared that part of their life with us in the first place, and they wouldn’t have given us permission to keep having it. It feels like they “allowed” it because they’ve become desensitized to it. It no longer holds power because we’ve poked the bruise so many times it became a callous. I’m not interested in continuing to poke.
I think it’s worth noting that many of these problematic posts were some of the most fun to write. Even the parts that I purposefully designed to be in boundary-crossing territory were interesting and compelling and sparked so many little mysteries that I could imagine creative conspiracies to solve and—
—And that’s what makes the slightly-too-hot bath dangerous. The water may feel a little hot, maybe more so to some than others, but it also might feel good.
It feels good to revel in the romance of two people who you adore. The more of it you can consume, the more it almost feels like having it for yourself. And the more of the romance people want to consume, the more normalized it becomes for people to dig and dig and dig and share and share and share until, suddenly, nothing is scared anymore.
***
I’m not immune to this. I’m not immune to engaging in activities that might cross real-life people’s — people who are famous, yes, but who, first and foremost, are people — boundaries. My single best creative work is rpf. I’ve written rpf for other fandoms, about characters whose real-life counterparts would probably be a lot less chill about smutty and romantic rpf of them existing than dnp are. I knew that when I wrote it. I still wrote it.
I came into the phandom sometime in 2015 and the water temperature was already so hot.
Everyone acted like the water wasn’t hot, though, and I hadn't ever been in a real person fandom before, and also there were level-headed friends I made that weren’t trying to add more boiling water to the bath and and and—
I’ve seen the Valentine’s Day video.
Once.
It was late at night and I didn’t really know the lore because the “drama” (in hindsight, it wasn’t “drama”, it was a tragedy) had gone down years before I was in the fandom. Someone told me about it and had a link. Everyone else has seen it, I remember thinking. The weight of what it might have been — what we now know it to be — didn’t register with me.
It should have.
I thought about it a lot, in the following years. Not the video. I honestly don't remember a single thing about the video except the disgust I felt with myself almost immediately. I’m surprised every time I learn that a piece of lore originated there.
But I think about the fact that I watched it. That — regardless of if it was real or fake — I knew what it could be and I still clicked play of my own volition. I’ve, at least vaguely, referenced it in a fic with too little care (not ly, I think). I don’t have the excuse of being twelve years old at the time. I was in my twenties and still clicked play.
***
I've always been an older phan. And maybe that’s why I always tended to shy far away from the more deeply analytical and invasive discourse. I’d see it come across my dash every now and again and I’d block whoever created it, or maybe whoever reblogged it. But I didn’t do anything. I never commented “hey, I think you’re digging a little too far into someone’s private life” or “eek just because something in is the government’s public record doesn’t mean we have a right to go searching for it”. Pre-hiatus phans, I think all of us know the feeling of seeing something come across our dash that pinged our yikes radar. And if you’re anything like me, you’ve usually swallowed that feeling of discomfort and moved on to the next post. Maybe sent it to a friend to bitch about.
But I think maybe, this time around, it’s important that we’re more active about calling each other in. About saying “hey I get why this is a fun post, but it seems like it might be crossing a line”. Or, at the very least, that we’re more careful about what we like and share and create.
Nowadays, I am quick to unfollow anyone that I feel like crosses a line because I very purposefully don't want my dash to increase in temperature. I like my memes and phanart and shitposting, and don’t want to slowly become normalized to too much and too much and too much again. Maintaining healthy, respectful boundaries is active work. There are days it feels like a real bummer, honestly. Posts that I read and start getting excited about before I realize — fuck. This is voyeuristic. This is entitled. This may be fun, but it’s fun that is very likely at the expense of someone else’s privacy and peace.
But it’s still work I am intent on doing — on encouraging others to do — because I love them so much and want them to continue feeling comfortable making content and, even more than that, want them to just be comfortable and happy.
***
Post Hard Launch, I wonder if we’re thinking hard enough, as individuals and as a group, about the boundary lines of our behavior. And I think the group conversation part is important, because nothing else about fandom happens in a vacuum. We are a community, things are created and shared by us and for us and among us, and if we aren’t talking about this, then we can’t ethically do the rest, I think.
I wonder if we — fans who were around pre-hiatus — have reckoned enough with our role in the phandom the first time around. Because spectators can contribute to the rising temperature of the bathwater too. I think about how I never poured kerosene on a fire, but I also didn’t walk around with a fire extinguisher. My fire survival strategy was always, first and foremost, to avoid the fire as much as possible. And it worked pretty well — every now and then a rogue flame would escape and I’d hiss in sympathetic pain, but there was so much good, so many respectful people I could surround myself with, that I could, for the most part, pretend the fire wasn’t there.
***
Sometimes I still see content on my dash that makes me uncomfortable. A re-shared compilation post from a decade ago, piecing together the queerest and most romantic formspring posts from the infancy of a relationship that isn’t ours. A slightly-too-serious commentary on bedroom positions. A post framed as knowledge and certainty about lives we can only ever have a curated window into.
I think about this when I feel joy at Dan and Phil dropping lore, particularly when they address lore that was at the center of conspiracies and fan favorite moments for a decade. Because it is thrilling and fun and a-little-feral-in-a-fun-way to learn a new tidbit of information about our collective hyperfixation/special interest. But also, many times, I’m left thinking about gifts, and how they aren’t really gifts if they aren’t freely given.
And I’m so happy — so, so happy — that Dan and Phil feel comfortable enough to talk about things that they couldn’t or didn’t want to before. There is absolutely joy in that, for both them and us.
But two things can also be true.
Confirming and addressing things that were at the center of scrutiny — I’m not sure that’s a gift. It feels, to me at least, like more of a reclamation.
***
This chapter was intended to be equal parts celebration and caution, nostalgia and reminder. I hope you had fun reading it, and I hope it makes you think a little. The entire goal of the chapter was to question, “Where is the line?”
I don’t pretend to have any all-knowing answers to that question. I’m not Dan or Phil (surprise), and they’re the only two people on earth who can definitively answer that question. I can only think about where the line is for me (and, hopefully, encourage others to do the same). As much as I would love clear, detailed boundaries from Dan and Phil, as I was writing ly42, I really came to the conclusion that I don’t think it’s their responsibility to give them to us. Respect is something given, not demanded.
And if they were to doll out detailed, specific boundaries, there would always be some stone unturned, some situation that they never imagined that comes to fruition and crosses a boundary while technically feeling “allowed” because, hey, it wasn’t on the naughty list.
So yes, I think it’s our job as a fandom to self-modulate, to remember they’re humans and give them reasonable boundaries. It’s not their job to explain to us how to treat someone like a human. Of course, they absolutely have the right to draw boundaries and to tell us when we’re out of line, but I don’t think it’s reasonable to assume that things are a “yes” unless they’ve explicitly said “no”.
***
I love Dan and Phil with my whole heart and am so genuinely, deeply glad to be back in the phandom. LY is the most interesting thing I’ve ever created, and I’m so glad to be writing it again. These characters have come to feel like my own, a rough pencil sketch based on versions of two people that no longer exist. I’m very grateful to have readers who welcomed the self-reflective meta content of 42. Thank you in particular to @siriuscybernetics and @yairqq , whose tumblr asks provided an opportunity to think about this from new angles, and to all the ao3 comments that I haven’t responded to yet but were equally thoughtful and thought-provoking.
If, after reading this debrief, you have more thoughts to share, I’m always happy to hear them. The entire point of this chapter was to create discussion, so please know that even if I take a bit to give a thoughtful response, I’m very happy to hear your reflections.













