#i'm being flip again. there are a few fanfictions that i've enjoyed | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mitziholder · 6 months

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apologies for being weird and hogging your inbox like this but i LOVE your thoughts on fandom and i think very few people talk about it in a critical way without completely condemning the entire occupation. in my experience people (not just on this website but in general) tend to take a very black and white view of fandom/fic, probably because it can feel like a very personal thing for many; either they're 'normies' who think all fanworks are 'cringe' or they're the anything goes kind of person. radfems seem to me to be the only ppl who aren't overly defensive of the enterprise but can still enjoy fanworks critically. its nice to see women who aren't like. Fandom Moms talking about these things at length. i think you're one of the few people i've agreed with regarding this subject so far :/ your analyses are very much appreciated and i'd love to read more of what you think (especially regarding the point about navigating trauma). have a good day!

oh and also regarding the whole 'i want women to read better thing' ive always felt this idea that fandom culture is above criticism (or criticising it is inherently misogynistic) is in some ways an extension or at least related to the societal notion that women should be confined to the fluffy feeling aspects of writing and art and aren't as capable of intellectually engaging with things (and of course some 'criticisms' of fan culture ARE misogynistic but i'm not referring to those atm). and obviously there isn't anything inherently WRONG with silly fluff novels or romance (especially romance of course as one can certainly explore that subject in depth and i actually think there's a lack of well written romance out there) but it still feels like a limitation on female growth to normalise women ONLY reading fanfiction or even only certain brands of genre fiction i guess? and i find it sad that so many women seem to almost buy into that idea nowadays or shoot down any sort of criticism with the 'stop shaming female desire' catchphrase. and considering that there is still a dearth of well made original female work for women in pop culture (that act as cultural touchstones in the same way a lot of male works do) it's even more depressing that a lot of fanwork centers men. sorry if this comes off as insufferably pretentious lmao! i'm not even against fanwork i mean this is tumblr i still enjoy things but hopefully you know what i mean lol

like i mean. there's a reason why fanfiction is seen as primarily a female affair (even though a lot of the highly regarded published fanfics are by men. u know the neil gaiman stuff or whatever). its sort of a reassurance that women are 'limited' to writing fanworks. idk. i guess i want women to do better idk if im making any sense

ok, mandatory disclaimer that what I’m describing here is a series of trends, trends I’ve observed within fandom at large including both fanfiction readers/writers and fujos more broadly. obviously, not everyone who reads fanfic or yaoi is a woman (though the vast majority are). obviously, not every woman who reads fanfic or yaoi is a stunted teenager who refuses to engage with any other media. I will also admit that not every fanfic is jimin ABO. I don’t think that fanfic is inherently cringe or low-quality, and there are certainly a lot of respectable published works that have been created with other people’s characters or settings. but, as I’ve said, the vast majority of fanworks in the modern day are essentially pornographic mad libs. I find that disappointing. and there’s no reason it has to be this way… except for all the reasons I’ve outlined in my other posts.

things that are lazy and thoughtless and easy, that provide instant gratification, are generally more popular than things that are difficult or uncomfortable. clearly. but people who denounce all fanfic/fanfic writers and pigeonhole it as low-effort slop are not actually interested in helping the women who write it achieve their fullest potential, because they do not believe those women have any potential. it’s true that some criticisms of fan culture and fanworks are purely misogynistic… but I care about women’s voices, and I do want women to be able to express themselves. I’m not on a quest to stop women from writing or reading fanfic. I’ve been slightly flip about the subject, but truthfully, not everything that is “derivative” is bad, and there’s no reason that fanworks couldn’t be good. it’s just that the culture around them is so intensely sensitive - anti-“shaming” - that women are terrified of saying anything about the level of quality or the potentially harmful nature of most fanfiction because they don’t want to devalue media created by and for other women.

I think that’s a disservice to women as a whole. not everything we write is valuable. I’ve written plenty of crap in the pursuit of getting better - plenty of crap I currently disagree with. and if our work can’t withstand criticism - if we shut down immediately at any hint of a deeper, more unflattering analysis of what’s really going on… then what’s the point? what are we communicating? that female fantasies exist in a compartmentalized bubble far and away from our politics and intellectual pursuits? that we should be able to j/o to rape fantasies without question because it’s not that serious? that the personal is political, except for when it isn’t… and we should all be quiet and let women write whatever they want free of criticism lest we shame them so hard they go into hiding? my standards might be a tad high, but that is setting the bar… dangerously low. it’s also patronizing. since when has “just let women enjoy things!!” ever gotten us anywhere? since when has that been a cornerstone of feminist thought? is that really the best we can do? are we really so fragile?

I’ve seen a glut of posts about how useless and harmful constructive criticism supposedly is. the reasoning is always basically the same:

criticism is mean/toxic/discouraging

maybe I’m too hardened by countless death wishes I got on my old blog, but, in my experience, whenever I have something I want to say or a point I want to make, very little can keep me from doing so. I can’t imagine being so bothered by what random Internet people think. it’s important to remember that being able to determine what criticism is valuable is a skill in itself. disavowing criticism as a whole because some of it is “toxic”/discouraging is throwing the baby out with the bathwater.

criticism is pointless; perfection is unattainable

of course nothing is ever going to be perfect. but if that’s your attitude, why bother editing? (rhetorical question. some fanfic authors do post unedited works… just because they can.) hell, why write? why get up in the morning? why make your bed? why try anything new at all? it’s a completely absurd, defeatist attitude. like the first point, it also reeks of intellectual laziness and self-satisfaction.

you could just be nice and say what you liked instead because that’s helpful too

please don’t blow smoke up my ass. in editing, I want to fix things that don’t work and to trim the fat. is it “kind” or “helpful” to let me do something completely stupid because you’re too afraid of embarrassing or offending me to say as much? also, knowing what people like is useful in producing more of what people like - it doesn’t help me do anything new or different. there is nothing less helpful to me than saying “good job!” when I ask you to read my work. it’s certainly nice (as long as you actually read it), but it’s not helpful.

it’s published, the author is through with it, and they don’t want to touch it anymore

I plan to do everything I can to edit and improve my writing before the thing is drawn and published, but I’m sure some flaws will inevitably slip through the cracks. currently, I’m rewriting entire chapters from the beginning because they became incompatible with what I wanted out of the series as it progressed. considering that a lot of people write fanfic on a chapter-by-chapter basis with only a very vague trope-strung outline, I have to wonder why they’re so averse to major overhauls. sure, it’s not pleasant, but don’t you want your writing to be the best that it can be? what is the purpose of uploading it if you don’t want the thing to be responded to as it is, warts and all?

also, not all criticism is limited to the specific work it’s derived from; many things can be extrapolated to future works as well. how are we supposed to correct trends that could lead to a decrease in the quality of future works if we can’t even point them out?

fanfiction is a hobby, and hobbies should be fun

I’m not under the impression that I’ll ever be able to make a living from my writing. I do it as a “hobby” in my spare time simply for the fact that I need an outlet for my thoughts - I need to organize them in some way. writing is an art form that we use to communicate meaning and to make sense of the world around us. your goal as a writer may be to have fun, but it isn’t mine. overgeneralizing and building an entire subculture around the pursuit of mindless fun limits what fanfiction and amateur writing have the potential to be.

you could just go read something else that you like more

actually, no. I don’t like any of it. I’m sorry if saying that is offensive to the 38-year-old she/they whose blog post I grabbed this from. most fanfic is bad. I yearn for the exploration of topics that are categorically not explored in fanfic - because the scope of what fanfic is interested in is constantly narrowing, feeding on itself, like an ouroboros. this problem is only going to get worse over time. why wouldn’t I be bothered? why can’t I say it’s a shame?

mass media and tiktok are worse!

maybe, but so what? at least the majority of people who spend their time watching tiktok videos and bad TV don’t act like it’s a suitable replacement for real literature. and at least there aren’t tiktok compilations being listed on goodreads(?)

anyway, more to the point, fandom is full of technically competent writers. but if they continue to insulate themselves within fandom or fandom-adjacent offshoots, they will never be great writers, because great writing requires tight editing (the elimination of things that are pointless and redundant), syntactic fluency, organizational skills, and, most importantly, an individual voice - an artistic vision - interpreting individual ideas… things that are born of criticism and a diversity of influences that are not present or valued within fandom in its current state. great writing cannot be made in a vacuum. great writers don’t allow themselves to be broken or stifled by criticism they disagree with.

sure, no one has a responsibility to be a great writer, and mediocre writing isn’t a moral failure… but I’m certainly not going to be happy about it, especially when the prevailing attitude is “fanfic is art… but I make what I want for myself and sharing it with you is a privilege and therefore you can’t criticize it!” how boring! how utterly conceited! my god. throwing a temper tantrum because you’re not 100% in control of how others perceive or respond to your creation. put it in a diary and not on a public forum if that bothers you so much… (but then, of course, you couldn’t count kudos.)

I do have a plan to touch on some of my other gripes since you asked so nicely. but this response is, once again, getting too long, and those things have little to do with what I was complaining about here. I’ve got an outline for a post I’ll develop and publish later as a final note on this convo, since at that point I really will have said all that I have to say… thanks again for writing in :-)

#ask #i'm being flip again. there are a few fanfictions that i've enjoyed #but they were gen + about female characters (EXTREME RARITY LOOOL)

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give-soup-please · 11 months

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Again, very soon, because of a few reasons, but tis I, May! 1. Thank you for the fun honey fact - I can't believe that it's copyrighted, although, maybe I can, it's not the weirdest thing I've heard of copyrighted. Fun fact: did you know that the word "Home" is technically copywritten for Facebook? 2. I have consumed water as per the agreement of mutually taking care of ourselves! (This is now a legally binding agreement, you cannot escape) 3. I don't believe in God but GOD BLESS for those chapters/fics you posted, for the love of all that is both holy and unholy I read those faster than I've read anything in my entire life - seriously, I finished all of them in 30 minutes. I do think it is important to say that I agree with you: Enjoying reading toxic relationships and things of that nature in fics, is not equivalent to wanting to experiencing it in real life, or condoning/supporting it in general. I also am an avid enjoyer of such things (and have written a few in private myself.) That does not, in the slightest, mean I support stuff like that. I don't. But wHOO if I don't enjoy reading it... (it totally does not consume 90% of the fanfictions I read... no, it would never...) 4. I don't believe I have ever interacted with you on Discord, I'm not even sure I know what your Discord is, actually ☹️ I have interacted with Munchies though (Not sure if I can say her actual name or not... I haven't spoken with her enough to know) I do want to say, in regards to her, that it is so wonderful that you continue to help and inspire her to write - her writing is amazing and I would be much sadder if that didn't exist (just like I would be sad if you didn't write - I will consume whatever writing the two of you make) 5. One of the most important things I've learned though therapy and experience is that being upset is okay, feeling your emotions is okay. You just have to act on them in a positive way, and deal with them in a positive way. I.e. it's okay to be irritated that someone just walked in front of you and took your place in the grocery line, but that doesn't mean you flip out on them. You probably didn't ask about that, but I did see the reblogged post and wanted to mention it since it was at the forefront of my mind. 6. I don't know why I'm surprised about that A.I. thing, but I am. I can't believe people would take someone's work and do that to it. It could never, and would never amount to what they can actually create, and is never worth it. Not only that, but I am also someone who's fics are all (mostly) unfinished for a variety of reasons. I do plan on finishing them, and finding out that someone did that to it would devastate me and also make me feel underappreciated/like I have no reason to write at all. That's all for now, surprisingly a lot but I do end up getting a lot of thoughts I forget to write down (these ones were just fresh in my mind and I HAD to say something about those most recent writings... damn...) You know the drill by now, you better be taking care of yourself because you're important, and you matter. Drink water, try to do something that might be a little difficult, and also be self indulgent - you deserve it. Your friend,

~May

hello again, may. good to hear from you. and feel free to pop in the inbox whenever, i like your messages.

i really hope that the facebook thing isn't real because i'll be so salty about it sdlfkjsdlkfsdjklf... pomegranate honey is rare and hard to find in supermarkets. you usually gotta go to a specialty jam shop or somewhere similar to locate it, at least where i am in the area.

2. i'll raise a glass of water in your honor, then/gen - i know i need accountability partners sometimes when it comes to self care and taking care of basic needs.

3. i'm really glad you liked it! it always makes me very happy when folks have positive responses to my work. as for the thing about telling people i don't condone certain things, it's just to cover my bases, really. early on in the headcanon project, i did a few yandere requests and someone came in my inbox and told me off about it. i didn't know tumblr back then as well as i do now, and i didn't want to step on anyone's toes. this blog is an attempt at drama free posting, for the most part, and arguments about what writers should and shouldn't be able to write are... hotly contested on this site. (understatement of the century, good lord.)

4. if you haven't interacted with me on discord, then i truly have no idea who you are, and i'm chill with that. you'll reveal what you want to reveal whenever. i don't generally hand out my discord to folks, because i cultivate my circles very carefully and don't want my username public. so for now, that stays secret. i'm honored that she takes inspiration from what i do, it means a lot. i have no idea how i do it, but i'm not gonna knock a good thing. i'm happy for her.

5. good advice. i don't have much else to say about that.

6. yeah the development of AI stuff recently has been... distressing, from an artist standpoint. i've heard people are already trying to use AI to replace certain jobs, and the idea of my 'voice' (for lack of a better word) being stolen to produce cheap/free content is incredibly distressing. i'm a firm believer in AI/robotics being used to handle manual labor so humans have more time and energy to make art, not having the AI/robots make art so... we have... more time to work. there's something backwards about that.

take care of yourself too, ok?

#may anon

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areweevercameraready · 10 months

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snippet two :>

A/N: me: oh no, AO3 is getting DDoS'ed :( and i just finished a chapter of beliefs so I can post another chapter! damn me: me: wait i can post another human chapter

anyways, please stay off AO3 for the time being and here's a post with more information, but they're facing extreme server overloading and opening AO3 pages makes it harder apparently. i don't know, i'm a communicator, not a programmer, so i'm just passing along what i know.

anywho! here's another snippet of the human au i'd been writing. if you would like to read the first part, here is the first snippet, which also has some more background on the au. check here for descriptions of the human au.

this is likely to be the last of this big story i'll be posting. i might post some of the oneshots i have in this au, as i have a few that are sorta unrelated to the plot that i'm comfortable with posting, but...well. we'll see. i finished chapter 13 of more than beliefs so i've 1) begun writing chapter 14 finally and 2) might post chapter 11 soon :D not having anything to do with my life right now is good for catching up on sleep debt and writing fanfiction! yipee!

i hope you enjoy!

Words: 7,265

WARNINGS: having a panic attack and being sad, not much more i don't think but if there is, let me know and i'll make note of it!

(in lieu of a diving image, please take this human au meme LOL)

“So. Bartender. Your name’s Eric, right? That’s what Marl’ said.”

“Mhm,” Eric hummed.

“Thanks for driving them home. Marlowe would’ve flipped tomorrow if he woke up and realized he’d left the car somewhere else. He’s gonna flip either way, though, since the idiot teaches tomorrow morning,” David snickered a little, leaning against the car door in a casual manner.

At the very least, the flippance was making it more evident that David wasn’t, like. Mad at him. Or something. Eric nodded again before remembering that David was now driving. “Uh. Yeah. Would have been a kinda problem.”

“Mm,” David hummed. After a few beats of silence, he added. “You got anything to do tomorrow?”

Tomorrow? Why was he asking? “I, uh, have work at four. At the bar. Other than that, no,” because truthfully, he was only scheduled five days a week at the restaurant.

He tried to get his shifts at the restaurant and his shifts at the bar to not line up, but five days a week at both jobs meant there wasn’t ever a chance of that happening. When he did need a full day off, though, for parent-teacher conferences especially now that Gavin was going to school, he managed to get the exact days precisely. Which was probably because he was so punctual and dependable. Which was what he tried to be. But sometimes, he worried that wouldn’t be enough, so he always clocked the days he’d need two months in advance.

Tomorrow was just a lucky day though, to just have one job and not both. Often they stacked. Sometimes they didn’t.

“Wanna meet up for lunch?” David’s proposition cut through Eric’s tangential thoughts.

He turned to David again now, a slight frown on his lips, before asking, “For lunch?” as if he hadn’t heard properly.

David nodded. “Yep. My treat, for bringing my boys home safe,” he shot Eric another grin. “Also you like, haven’t at all told me where the fuck to go. I’m assuming it’s closer to downtown but unless you just wanna keep driving in circles….”

Fuck. Eric looked out the window for real now, trying to figure out where they were. It was the highway going into town. “You’re going to want to take the Concord exit,” he said.

“Okay,” David said. “But, yeah. Lunch.”

“Lunch,” Eric repeated, quickly averting his eyes back to the dashboard. “You and me and lunch?”

He didn’t really want to look directly at David, but just in case David like. Grabbed him. Or something. Eric wanted to see him in his peripheral. He saw David shrug.

“I mean, yeah. You ever been to Lucy’s on Main? Such a great diner, I used to go with an old girlfriend every night almost,” David pulled off the exit.

“Right. And then left at the, uh….fourth light.”

“Gotcha. Lunch. At Lucy’s on Main?”

Lucy’s on Main wasn’t the fanciest place, but Eric had only been once, and that was for Gavin’s fourth birthday. He liked their theming, even though it wasn’t an actual children’s diner or anything, and Eric was never one to deny his brother when he asked for something achievable.

If he could, he’d get Gavin the world. Snatch it right out of God’s hand

Going there with a stranger, though….if David wasn’t dating like, at least two other people, Eric would be worried this was a flirt attempt. And he wasn’t really in the mood to be romantic. He kinda wanted therapy first? And he hadn’t thought about romance in a while, not since his boyfriend in high school. Now he was an adult with responsibilities, he couldn’t just ditch school and smoke weed by the train station with Schmidt.

This was just some guy being thankful, though, right? And he wasn’t doing anything tomorrow….and the idea of food, especially free food, was pretty enticing. A guaranteed meal would be nice. And at this point, he didn’t think this was going to be a trap. He knew Lucy’s on Main. He wasn’t...this was awkward, but it wasn’t like he was going to get mugged or anything.

The silence dragged, just a bit, and David sighed. “If you wanna say no, you can. I just know this’ probably way outta your ways, and you seem like you’re not gonna kill me and steal my car, so it’d be nice to hang out once and say thanks.” David sounded tired, too.

Though that explanation was pretty straight forward. Eric nodded slowly in something like understanding. If David was worried Eric was going to be mugging him, and Eric was worried that David was going to be mugging him….well, he could just be saying this to get his guard down. Eric knew he consistently looked like his guard was up, more often willing to fight than he wasn’t, but maybe that was off-putting here. Maybe he was the scary one, here.

Ah, the mom friend override.

“No, I, uh. That’d be cool,” Eric said, then cleared his throat and continued. “Thanks for the offer. Would noon work?”

“Yeah, sure,” David smiled as he took the turn onto Concord Avenue. “Meet you there?”

“Sure,” Eric said. “You can pull over anywhere on this block.”

He gestured out the window. His building was maybe two blocks down, but, well. He didn’t want to take this dude all the way to his apartment.

Did he?

No, no he didn’t. Also, his days of one night stands were like, two years long gone. Eric wasn’t about to bring a whole adult (WITH TWO BOYFRIENDS, MIND YOU, AT LEAST TWO) to his tiny apartment at almost four in the morning with his kid brother sleeping in the same bedroom. Like, sure as fuck that wasn’t happening. Regardless of how pretty David looked in the moonlight.

Yeah, he was tired as fuck if he was just going to start mentally waxing poetic about how pretty these boys were. Eric looked around at the car, out the window, then back at David. Who was watching him with a smile ever so slight, almost knowing, almost cocky.

“What, you want a goodnight’s kiss too?” he joked.

Eric snorted, shaking his head. “Nah, I’m just….” Confused.

This was all so much, in one night.

He had a hundred fuckin’ dollars in his pocket?

And David’s boyfriend’s phone number? This dude just drove him home, too, for nothing, and was going to take him out to lunch tomorrow?

“This’ a lot more social interaction in one day than I get most months,” Eric joked, almost confessed really, and shrugged. “It’s also four in the morning.”

“Huh, would you look at that,” David looked at the clock and pulled a face, as if he’d just noticed the time.

Wouldn’t that be a riot? What the fuck was he doing awake, even? Eric snorted, hiding his eyes behind a hand as he laughed. “Stop no, it’s too-it’s too early for this,” he said between laughs as David began to chuckle a little himself.

“Damn right. You head home, get to bed, and make sure you’re up at at LEAST noon!” David waved at Eric as he got out of the car, into the night air.

It nipped at his nose, much colder than he thought it’d be. Granted, he thought he’d still be warm from the bar, too. Eric turned around, waving at David as he whipped a completely not-legal U-turn in the middle of the road, then headed back where he came. It looked like David was going to wait until Eric got into a building, which was kind of nice of him, but once Eric stood still and waved, he hit the reverse. Which was also fair. And also part of Eric’s plan.

He didn’t exactly….Now okay, tomorrow morning this was all going to register as flirting. Eric was going to take off his shirts and lay down in his bed and watch Gavin sleep for maybe fifteen minutes before passing out himself out of just exhaustion while wearing his bartending slacks and without actually being beneath his pillows. He was going to not think about the implications behind the three men’s actions until tomorrow morning, while making breakfast, and he was going to be quiet enough in thought for Gavin to ask if he’d done something wrong while they were on their drive to school.

“No, Gav, you’re fine. Peachy, actually, sweet pea,” Eric said, while he and Gavin waited at a stop light.

Gavin was supposed to hold the motorcycle’s safety restraints while they drove, but more often than not he ended up holding Eric. He had his own safety jacket and belt buckles, which Eric installed as soon as he found out they were a thing. He’d gotten the bike before he’d gotten Gavin, and he wasn’t giving the bike away.

“What’re you sad about?” the kid asked.

The light was still red, so Eric leaned one arm back and gave Gavin one of their bike hugs. Positioning was always awful, but Gavin knew the drill, so he snuggled his helmeted head beneath Eric’s arm for a moment and hugged him tighter.

Now, though, how to like. Explain this to the four year old.

“A friend asked to go to lunch together today,” was what Eric landed on.

Gavin gasped, excitement filling his voice in a way that almost made Eric feel bad. “A friend?! Yay!”

“Yeah, a friend. I’ve got those,” Eric joked.

“Daddy’s got one friend,” Gavin said with his own snicker, and Eric laughed, too.

“Daddy’s got more than one friend,” he said, and for a moment, thinking about the phone number written on the bill at home, he meant it.

Gavin seemed happy with that explanation and with those jokes, and Eric was as happy as he’d let himself be. He dropped Gavin off and promised to pick him up later, told him to have a good day, that he loved him.

Kid’s school got out at 1:38, which would be a fair reason to leave lunch, if it got like. Unbearably awkward. Which was a real possibility, if you asked Eric. Wasn’t last night awkward enough? This dude really saw Eric at his normal messiest states at four in the morning and decided that the best decision was to spend even more time with him. Granted, he was in his pajamas last night, and he seemed pretty out of it, too. It might be nice to have a real conversation outside of being ground into dust levels of tired.

Also, it wasn’t Eric’s worst, and he thought he’d held it together pretty well considering the outlandish circumstances. In nearly any other case, he would have gone running for the hills at the mention of having lunch alone together with a stranger, or even being handed a bill with a fucking phone number on it. He’d been hit on at the bar before; everyone likes the stoic type bartender, until he starts rejecting advances. Then he gets the drink thrown on him and slurs thrown his way, which like, really? The owner’s queer and they think it’s going to be okay to say slurs? Idiots. Eric knew it was a situation better than that kind of shit, but he didn’t know what made him say yes to these advances. Something about the genuine-ness of it all, maybe.

And these like. Were definitely advances. There were no ifs, ands, or buts. He didn’t process it fully last night, but now that the lunch date was starring him in the face, he could see it for what it was: a date.

Three people, though. That was three extra people to disappoint. And, if he really thought about it, Eric didn’t know if he could, like….handle that. On an emotional level but also on an anxiety level.

Still, to not show up to lunch and flake would be rude, and he may be a coward but he was anything but rude.

Eric took some time between dropping off Gavin and heading to the date to prepare. He had tried while putting his hair up, a looser ponytail rather than the pinned bun he had for either of his jobs. Usually, he’d’ve preferred to keep it down, but. Well. It got everywhere. It was kinda scraggly, probably 90% split ends. Good to have it out of the way.

He threw on a quick t-shirt, a pair of black jeans, and his regular leather jacket. If this was really just lunch, then it was a one and done kind of situation. Not much else for him to do, other than lay down and try to nap for an hour before heading out.

Lucy’s on Main was fairly crowded for lunch on a weekday, in Eric’s opinion. People were waiting outside when he got there. And he didn’t see David waiting amongst them, so he put his own name down for a table and went to go stand outside. There was a couple sitting on the bus stop bench, though. Smoking. It’d been a few years since he managed to kick his nicotine addiction, but he wasn’t exactly fond of the scent of smoke anymore, so after a moment of taking in the wind and hyping himself up to talk to a stranger, a whole ass stranger, he went back in.

And that was when he heard a “YO! ERIC!”

Eric jumped, turning around towards the inside of the diner. Most of the tables were filled, and one had a guy with his arms up, waving him down. Literally. Waving him down.

“HEY!” David called out.

Eric saw him crack a smile as he recognized him, as Eric waved back just a little. They were turning heads a bit. Just a bit.

He told the host that he was with “that guy” and made his way over, sliding into the seat opposite David. And he tried to kind of avoid looking at him, because being yelled at across a public space was never something Eric was too fond of. As soon as he sat down, though, David waved in his face.

“‘Sup, Harley,” David said. “Nice bike.”

“Thanks.” Eric looked up, briefly, then froze. And looked up again.

David’s hair was down, though it’d been brushed and was pinned back with a bobby pin or two. He was wearing a puffy varsity jacket and a t-shirt underneath, the varsity jacket covered in patches that seemed to be hand-sewn on. There was a pin, too, on the jacket’s collar, with the inclusive rainbow. Cute. His glasses were cute, too, framing his face in a way that made his smile look a bit wider as he also looked over eric.

He….Well. In last night’s dark, he hadn’t really caught what David actually looked like. He was smaller than Eric but they had similar styles almost. There was something comforting casual about David’s posture, though, and in the way he leaned back against the booth’s seat.

Surrounded by hot men. Eric turned away as the waitress came over, hoping he wasn’t blushing as much as he thought he was, and ordered himself a plate of fries. Before she left, David interrupted.

“Nah, you can order more, dude. I’m paying,” he reached over and motioned towards the waitress. “Get a milkshake at least, Lucy’s shakes’re the fucking best.”

Now, Eric didn’t really want to be wasting someone else’s money, and the plate of fries was definitely more than he’d been planning on having today. But David was watching him. And Eric couldn’t really say no. Not when he was being watched like this. A burger did sound good, too, but….

God, he didn’t want to make David spend money on him. Eric stuffed his hands into his pockets slowly, playing with the edge of his phone’s case. “Can I, uh. Can I get a chocolate shake, too?” he asked.

“M’kay,” the waitress said with a knowing smile.

“And make his fries the bigger size! I’ll steal some,” David grinned at the waitress, who chuckled at his antics but wrote down the change.

And then she left.

Eric leaned back in the seat, and he didn’t really know what to feel. In a weird way, it was good that David just started to converse, then and there.

“Like I said, cool bike. What kind is it?” he said, as if he knew of it.

“Uh,” oh, jeez, the bike. “It’s a 2005 Night Train.”

“Sheesh, a Night Train! And she’s still running? Do you do your own maintenance?”

“I, uh. Yeah. Yeah, I do. Maintenance and modifications.”

And that got him talking. Which, like. Was hard. On standard, getting him to converse was hard. But then David mentioned his old bike, how he used to have a 2002 Softail Deuce, how he always found it hard to maintain. Well, ‘course it’s hard to maintain if you don’t keep checking on it, especially after not riding it for a bit. Eric installed the second seat and had to buy her new brakes, just in case and to help with smoother rides.

He talked about how he kept his parts and mechanical tools in a case in his apartment. Usually he’d keep it stuffed under the coffee table, better than leaving it out in the garage.

David said it was cool, that he knew enough to maintain the bike himself. Yeah, Eric just liked keeping up with it and making sure he knew enough about it. He didn’t know any mechanics in the area well enough to trust them to actually take care of it as well as he could. Plus, if anything went wrong, he’d know what the situation was. He liked knowing that.

It was nice, to talk to someone about these things. Eric didn’t notice his tension easing up with David. It was almost natural.

David mentioned having a bike. What did he do with it? He had to get rid of it, he didn’t take good enough care of it. Sold it to someone before he moved out here. He’s originally from Michigan but relocated for work, since it’s better to be near a lot of galleries. Selling the bike helped pay for life after college.

What did he work in? Art. He worked most in oils, something like a modern impressionist kind of painting. The big one was sculpting. He liked to chisel, but marble was kind of hard to come by. He’d gotten into wood carving, though, since the house was nearby a forest. He’d take down a tree somewhere on their property, replant a few saplings, then bring it in pieces into his workshop to carve. It was in the basement, but they’d set up a ventilation system well enough. He did like painting realism sometimes, as a hobby, though.

Eric didn’t know anything about art. He would love to see his works, one day.

Well you could swing by. I don’t think anyone’d be home to mind. If you wanna hang out some more.

“Who’s home?” Eric asked then, almost confused.

David blinked at him a few times, trying to process what was confusing, before realization entered his face and he snapped his fingers. “Shit, yeah. I’m supposed to….yeah. So, uh. Me and the boys wanted to get to know you more. ‘S why Princey and Marl’ were at your bar.”

“Oh.” What? Who the fuck are the boys? “Who’re the boys?”

“You’re gay, right? Just want to clear that up, ‘cause this is about to be so fuckin’ awkward if you’re straight.” David sipped his milkshake expectantly while Eric made a face, and before Eric even answered, David snickered. “Sorry, dumb question, you don’t need to be gay to like, get this. I dunno if anyone told you directly, but Phillip and Marlowe and I, and Cadence, and another dude you haven’t met named Draco, we’re all in a relationship. Poly, gay, all that. We’re all in a relationship.

“And like, we aren’t gonna reel you into a relationship with all of us. Cadence just said you were nice, so’d Marlowe and Phillip,” David put his hands up—Eric’s face must have been some kind of slack jawed, but he was more trying to decipher what David was saying than paying attention to himself. “We thought it’d be cool to meet you. Well. I thought it’d be cool. Like, as friends and stuff. And like, we move like a pack. I don’t wanna speak for the others on what they’re thinking, but I just wanted to make sure you knew like, this isn’t a date, not for me. But like, I dunno. You’ve got everyone’s interest now.

“So if you’re like, wondering why a bunch of randos’re meeting up with you out of nowhere, it’s because you seem cool and we all share one braincell that befriends people at the same time. We all wanna meet you. I dunno what everyone’s specific desires are past that, I just kinda wanna get to know you, but I think we could be friends. That’d be cool.” David leaned back, indicating the end of his explanation, and picked up his almost empty milkshake to sip from as Eric digested all of that new information.

“Oh. Okay,” Eric’s voice sounded hollow, even to himself.

Was that like getting stalked? Was he just getting stalked now, but a frat house of gay dudes? Was that what was happening? He didn’t know. His ears were kind of ringing a little as he tried to process that.

So he’d run into a gaggle of dudes who wanted to be his friend. All of them? They’d talked about him—of course they’d talked about him.

One of them was fucking famous? Eric didn’t know what being friends with a famous person was like, but he didn’t want cameras in his face all the time if that’s what it meant.

Was he even good enough for that? Eric wouldn’t have considered himself friendship material for any regular person, not to mention multiple people at once, one of whom was famous.

He had a lot of concerns, off the bat.

“It’s kinda a lot to explain. Mostly, we’re just gonna be annoying, since you seem cool and we wanna be friends. If that’s okay,” David said. “That okay?”

What would they want out of him? He didn’t have money. He barely had a personality, if you asked him. There wasn’t anything really to gain from being his friend.

Why the fuck were these people interested in him?

Eric barely heard him. He just. Starred. For a moment.

That was when Eric became acutely aware of where they were. Of who he was talking to. That this was...well, it was a casual conversation, but a proposition to come home. He had to—he checked his phone, it was 1:10, holy fuck. He had to pick up Gavin soon. Like, now even. He had to go.

He had to go.

He just had to.

“Okay. I,” what was he doing here, what did they want out of him? There was no way— “I need to go.”

David raised his eyebrows but said nothing of it. His smile faded. “Okay. Go ahead, I’m handling the bill,” his voice was a lot more gentle now, as if the fervor he’d spoken with earlier had been sapped out of his bones.

Eric almost missed it.

He’d been lulled into a false sense of security, out of talking about fucking motorcycles and art. He stood, one fast motion that is more abrupt than he should be, and turned down the hall. He could apologize. David seemed nice. So did Phillip. Marlowe. Cadence maybe even. It might be nice, to talk to some more people, to get to know them.

Gavin had said earlier that he had a friend. He could stick his neck out there. Reach out to people. He had a phone number. He could turn around and talk to David right now.

David had looked real sad when Eric left.

Instead, he walked down the hall and out the door. He tried his best to breathe evenly, because panic driving the bike was never smart, and in doing so he just. Swallowed. His feelings.

Eric took a big gulp of air, actually, and grabbed his bike’s helmet. Already, he was just zoning out. He was going to go pick up Gavin! Then, he was gonna make sure the kid was doing his homework. And then he had a shift at the bar.

What would they even say about Gavin?

He revved the bike’s engine and pulled out of the parking lot without looking back.

His brain was static empty by the time he pulled into the parking lot at Gavin’s school, a whole ten minutes early. He didn’t have to leave that fast. But he couldn’t just stay there. What would he do? Go back and talk to David? Face that kind of unknown? He...he couldn’t. He’d stormed out like something was wrong, and wouldn’t David be mad for that? He didn’t know him much anyways. He didn’t owe him anything, either.

If only he could convince the guilt weighing in his stomach the same thing.

When the school bell rang, Eric perked up, taking Gavin’s helmet out from where it gets hooked and clipped onto the back seat. He drummed his fingers against the top.

His kid came bursting out from around the portables, running around to where Eric usually parked. Gavin threw his arms up in the air when he saw Eric, so Eric threw his arms up as well. He climbed off the bike and squatted down, holding his arms open enough for Gavin to launch himself into a hug.

They did this just about every day and Eric didn’t see himself ever getting tired of it. Gavin snuggled his face against Eric’s shoulder and shouted “HI THIEF!”

“Hey, kiddo,” Eric said with a sigh. The nickname was a dour one, but it was hard to train Gavin out of it. He’d gotten upset about enough things, today, and he was waiting until they got home to do something about the rising panic he was literally just barely tamping down.

He helped Gavin onto the motorcycle’s seat, strapping him in while he asked how school had gone. It was a Thursday. Gavin had math tests on Thursday, which he loved. They were doing fifty in a minute with addition, which the teacher said Gavin was really good at. Better than reading time, since he was bad at focusing. The teacher suggested he get Gavin checked for reading disorders or attention disorders. But Eric didn’t have the money for something like that.

Still, it was nice hearing Gavin talk about how happy he was to finish the fifty. He was the first one done. “You’re such a smarty pants,” Eric joked, patting his hand on Gavin’s helmet once he got it strapped on.

“Mm,” Gavin frowned at that one, then shrugged. “Not really. I just like the numbers.”

“You’re good at the numbers, too,” Eric reminded him as he sat himself back down, too. “What homework do you have tonight?”

“Wait wait, but I wanted to know,” Gavin grabbed Eric’s sides, balling his hands up around him. “How did lunch go?”

Lunch.

Gavin was asking about. About how lunch went. Eric was really glad he wasn’t looking at him, because there’s no way he could have hidden how much his face fucking fell at the question.

“It, uh. Went alright.” Eric put his own helmet on, not turning around to see Gavin. “I’ve got work tonight, so I’m going to cook dinner when we get home, and you’ve gotta do your homework. Okay?”

He didn’t want to talk to his four year old brother, of all people, about that travesty of a date. It wasn’t even a date. It fucking felt like a date.

He didn’t want to hang out with anyone. He didn’t even want to have to talk to any of them, not if they were going to all pile up on him and what if anyone ever started taking offense to him? He didn’t want to join their group. And he probably wasn’t even good enough for it.

He didn’t want to think about how he’d walked out on David.

Shut the fuck up about it, Eric. You’ve gotta go for a bit of a drive. Then you get to panic about this.

“Okay,” Gavin’s voice was quiet, a little sad. Probably because Eric wasn’t answering his question. Usually Eric gave him an explanation before a nonanswer. But he didn’t need to. And Gavin wouldn’t understand. Eric could think of a thousand reasons why not to talk to Gavin about that.

“It’s fine,” Eric said, as if he could comfort Gavin with that harsh statement. And he revved his engine before he could hear Gavin’s response, if any.

The drive was quick. Some kinda force must have been on Eric’s side because every light was coming up green. He parked the bike in his unit’s garage and Gavin hopped off fast, beating Eric to the door, and disappeared inside.

Usually that was a surefire sign the kid was upset, but at the moment, Eric couldn’t really find it in himself to care. Nor fault him, really. Eric was on edge, was being pretty unreasonable.

On the flip side, he had to make dinner. It was 2 p.m. and he had to be at work at 4, so he had to leave at 3:30, and he had to make sure Gavin was doing homework. A conversation like this could take hours. He didn’t have that kind of time. And he’d have to understand himself why this was all happening. Why he was doing this. What was so terrifying.

Eric didn’t have the time nor the energy to confront that. So he wasn’t going to.

Quietly, he trudged into the kitchen, jumping when the door to the bedroom slams closed. Gavin, most likely. He usually did his homework in the kitchen, but, well…

Eric slung his jacket over one of the kitchen chairs and went to work cooking. It was always a tossup, leaving Gavin home alone. He was a smart kid. Eric told him not to touch the stove or the oven or touch any of the knives on their stand, and Gavin had never done anything like that. Eric also would punch in his phone number on the landline phone and colored in the “call” button with green sharpie. If anything happened, Gavin knew to just hit the green button. That’d call Eric, and he could always get home within ten minutes. If anything super bad happened, Gavin knew to hide in the closet. All of the neighbors on their floor had been asked, please, to call him if something happened to the building or his unit.

That was the best he could do, really. He didn’t have the money nor knew anyone well enough to let them watch Gavin. Once, he tried to leave Gavin with the neighbors, but he’d somehow escaped their apartment and gone back to Eric’s. The kid was attached, the neighbor had explained. And Eric didn’t really want anyone watching him in their apartment, when he wouldn’t be there.

Sometimes, the kid will do the dishes for him. Once, Eric was pretty sure Gavin cut his hand while trying to wash a knife, but Gavin said a bully got his arm caught on a door hinge in a fight. That was a specific enough lie that worried Eric that maybe both had happened. Poor kid had to deal with living with him, bullies on top of that?

He made pasta with some marinara sauce. It was a solid batch, and if Gavin didn’t finish it, then Eric would have some. He’d already eaten more than enough at lunch, though. And he was used to being hungry by now.

He stared at the cooking pasta with a blank expression.

Once dinner was ready, Eric checked the clock. Twenty minutes before he had to leave. Which was pretty standard for him, save for how he now had to go into the room where Gavin was hiding so he could change. He wasn’t about to go out in what he’d consider his nice clothes, to a bar where he could get thrown up on.

He stopped in front of the door. And took a breath.

“Dinner’s ready whenever you want it, Gav,” Eric said, voice soft as he also knocked on the door. “Can I come in? I’ve gotta get changed to go to work.”

“Sure,” came the soft reply.

Eric braced himself internally, pursing his lips a bit as he pushed open the door and peeked in. Gavin was curled up in his bed, backpack and shoes kicked off on the ground besides it. The blanket was pulled over his head, probably curled up into a ball under the sheets.

He could just throw off his clothes and change real fast. But Eric only got his shirt off before Gavin’s head popped out.

“Did your lunch make you sad?” he asked.

The question made Eric freeze. Part of him wanted to turn around, growl at the child to shut the fuck up and stop asking. It would be easier, to be cruel. But he could never...he didn’t want to be his parents, and when the kid was worried about him? That kind of idiot’d do that.

“A little,” Eric responded, trying to swallow the guilt that arose when he was reminded of how sad David had looked, how his smile had disappeared in the instant Eric stood up.

“Does Thief not have any more friends?”

Eric put on a black t-shirt and started taking off his jeans. “My name isn’t Thief, baby,” he tried to keep his tone level.

Gavin wilted a little. He hated it when Eric reminded him, but Eric hated that name, and it was going to be better to train Gavin out of it now rather than later. “Sorry, Daddy. But did your friend make you sad?”

He sighed. Persistent fucking kid.

Too good for Eric, always worried about him. Sometimes, Eric wondered if Gavin got that from him, too. Always just a little too worried for it to be healthy.

He heard Gavin flinch back into the sheets, so he turned back around. Gently, Eric scooped Gavin up, blankets and sheets and all, and kissed his forehead. “A little,” he answered. “He was a new friend. I don’t think he meant to make me sad.”

“Okay.” Gavin snuggled a little more into Eric’s arms, and he felt Gavin hold onto his shirt. “Did you make him sad?”

Heh. “A little. We were both a little sad,” Eric gave him a squeeze, rocking slowly. “It’s okay, though. Sometimes you make yourself sad. Sometimes other people get sad. Being sad is okay. It’s—”

“It’s about what you do after you’re sad,” Gavin finished. Probably excited he remembered it. Kid’s always been bad at focusing, anyway.

It’s something Eric’s told him before, quite a few times. He wished he could hide his panic and depression and honest despair from Gavin, but in a two room apartment? He didn’t want to leave the kid alone in the apartment, too. As little as he could. Gavin had seen him panic and Eric had pulled himself together to stop Gavin from worrying too much. The three year old kid had too big of a heart in him for Eric to keep making him sad, too. And now he was four.

“Yep, you’ve got it. Smart baby.” Eric lifted him as Gavin reached his arms up, giving him a tight hug around his neck and shoulders.

Gavin’s arm went around his head at that weird angle, where it was the only place where his arms could feasibly wrap around. “Are you gonna make it better?”

“I’m gonna try.”

That seemed to be good enough for Gavin, because he gave Eric a kiss on the forehead, too, and then made a motion to go down. So Eric set him back down on the bed, ruffled his hair, and went back to changing his pants.

“I set up dinner on the table, it’s noodles.” He always tried to get the ones that looked like sea shells, because Gavin thought they were fun. “After dinner, you can leave your plate on the kitchen counter and do homework at the table. I’ll be back before bed time, okay?”

Shift was supposed to be shorter today; he’d be off at 9, and it wasn’t like it was that long of a walk.

“Okay!” Gavin waved his hands. “Have fun! I love you!”

Eric, clothes changed and keys in hand, waved back. “I love you too!”

He closed the door to the apartment, locked it from the outside, and hurried down the stairs. “I’m gonna try,” he mumbled again, quiet to himself.

The phone number.

Eric still had the bill in his other pants’ pocket. He never took it out.

It’d been a while since he, like. Had friends. And had to socialize.

David likely told all of them that Eric had just walked out on him. He didn’t know what they thought of him.

But he had to try. Right?

At the very least, Phillip had seemed nice. Phillip had seemed like he knew what Eric’s anxiety looked like. And maybe that’d be….

Eric could try. There wasn’t a harm in that.

Work went smoothly, both works. No one went too crazy at the bar and Eric left when the next shift lead came, just in time to catch Gavin brushing his teeth before bed. He’d managed to tuck the kid in, clean the kitchen, and even managed to fall asleep at a reasonable time. When he woke up, he took Gavin to school, then immediately went to his second job. Things were going well and, when he dropped off Gavin, the kid had wished him good luck in calling his friend.

Eric held onto that until his lunch break at his other job. During lunch break, he went across the street to a coffee shop, ordered a dirty chai, and took his phone out. He’d taken a photo of the bill’s phone number, wasn’t about to wave a hundred dollar bill around in public, but the picture was good enough.

Here goes...well. Nothing, really. Everything. And nothing.

Just call the damn number.

His finger hit the call button before he could think any more about it, and he waited.

It took two rings for Phillip to pick up.

“Hello?” he asked.

“Hi.”

That was when Eric realized he had no fucking idea what he was going to say. What, was he calling to say sorry? This was Phillip’s number, not David’s. Did he want to hang out with Phillip? What do adults do when they quote hang out unquote. He didn’t want to do anything that’d involve money too much, he wasn’t able to pay for a dinner or something. Did he even want to meet up with him, in person? And he had so many questions about the arrangement, of the what, five men in a relationship thing. Did all of them want to talk to him? Why?

“Oh, Eric. Hello! I ha-I hadn’t expected you to call,” Phillip laughed a little, a sound that eased the tension off his shoulders. “Are you...What did you want to ta-to talk about?”

His voice sounded light. That was good. He didn’t sound mad.

“I, uh. I just wanted to….”

There was a pause. So Eric just took another sip of his coffee and said, quickly, “Did you want to go to a museum? Or hang out or something?”

A museum.

Eric hadn’t been to a single museum in the whole fucking city.

What the fuck was he thinking.

Phillip must have either pitied him or was picking up what he was trying to suggest, because that was when he responded, “Oh! If you want to-to walk around and ta-talk, we could go to the-the university’s botanical gardens.”

Botanical gardens? And walking around might be nice. Eric’s never been to the gardens. To be honest, he didn’t know they existed, and also didn’t go to the city’s university. It was a little farther away from the downtown and it wasn’t like he got an education past high school level anyway.

He’d always wanted to go into mechanics, what with working on the bike and all. It just never worked out.

Flowers seemed nice.

“Sure! That, uh, I’ve never been but that sounds nice,” he said.

“They are qui-quite pleasant,” Phillip hummed quietly, then added. “If you don’t mind, would it be alright if I exte-ex-ex-if I invited Cadence as well?”

Cadence. Cadence, the famous one?

“Is he, uh….is he allowed to like….” Eric, frankly, had no idea what protocol was around famous people. “Sure?”

Phillip chuckled quietly, just quiet enough for the phone to pick it up, and said, “He’s definitely allowed to be in publi-public, if that’s your worry. Being famous doesn’t make it illegal to be in places. He’d wanted to see you again, but, well. Bars are cro-cro-crowded. If you want, I won’t.”

“No, no, it’s okay. Sure. I’d, uh. That’s cool.”

Why did he sound like an awkward teen? Why did this sound like asking someone out to prom? Eric was going to lose his mind.

Thankfully and graciously, Phillip seemed to understand his plight. David must have spread the word of him being an anxious mess because, to some extent, Phillip was planning this date for him.

Not a date. Just hanging out. Still weird for him, but markedly less weird.

“When’s the next weekday you’re free?” Phillip asked.

It wasn’t that hard of a question. “Monday,” Eric responded.

He didn’t have either job. Well, that was a lie, but he was picking up another late shift at the bar. He didn’t have to be there until eleven.

“Great. Monday at ten?”

“Works for me,” Eric said.

Phillip hummed in approval.

Eric almost wanted to ask about David. If Phillip heard. Things had been going well, for the most part, until David explained the polycule situation. And something about that had just made Eric’s chest seize.

That was so many people to disappoint. They’d discussed him. Eric never liked being the point of discussion, for any people. So the idea that this group of people who were all dating had talked about him to the point that the others wanted to meet him was surreal.

Plus, he couldn’t help but be wary of the insinuation that they just wanted to be friends with him. Phillip was very regal, pretty and polished. Cadence was so fucking handsome it was unfair. David had been handsome as well, beautiful in a casual way. Eric was too fucking gay for this. He hadn’t seen Marlowe in much other than lowlight, and while the dude was drunk, but even then Eric could tell the dude was adorable. It was un-fucking-fair.

There was a….worry, deeper down. That while they might not want him in a romantic way, he’s just going to be a nervous gay wreck the whole time.

“See you then, then, Eric,” Phillip’s voice held something of a smirk, and then he hung up.

Eric lowered the phone, starred at the call screen for a moment or two before things began to click on his head. He was going to hang out with Phillip. And Cadence.

They didn’t hate him.

That was a good start.

#human au #eric #david #gavin #phillip #the story #i love these so much gkjgksjgkjldkjgkjlgkjgh #right now im working on a story like this one but for macbeth joining since he's the last one to #and i kinda wanna design or draw the secondary characters in the human world #maybe ill make a comic series of it #if i do ill keep it on this blog since this is much more an OC blog #thats what i made it for after all #i wanna draw a new icon tho because that gavin is kinda old lmaoooooo #but i have a special timing when i wanna do that #:) excited for more beliefs

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rhyme-thinks-stuff · 7 months

Text

It's 1 AM and I miss my old fandoms. I miss the hyperfixation feels.

This post got kinda long so I'm putting the rambling below the cut here

I'm surrounded by DSMP on tumblr, and I still like the characters and story. I see a lot of cool fanart and headcanons and stuff on my dash, it's really cool! I like seeing it! I like watching people love it. I like drawing stuff for it occasionally when prompted. Especially c!Ranboo, their character design is very fun to draw!

Like how I finished Tears of the Kingdom. It took up a large part of my brain for a month or two, I made art and thought so much about characters and their relationships and I started a rare pair tag and I even wrote an entire first draft of a short fanfiction for that rare pair, and then I finished it.

But I don't really think about DSMP it when I'm not looking directly at it. My object permanence isn't great. I mean I'm still kinda in the fandom? I'm very much surrounded by it. But I'm mostly just a quiet observer of it and not an active participant. I think it's cool but I don't feel all that passionate about it, especially compared to how I felt around the time I first discovered it.

And I enjoyed the ending. But it flipped a switch in my brain, and I quickly just. Stopped thinking about it the same way.

And I was frustrated, because I wanted to finish the second draft of that fanfiction, maybe get it edited enough to post it. But my brain had apparently decided that I was done with that fandom well before I was ready to be

I tried getting back into Genshin Impact and I got mostly caught up with the story. I explored new regions for weeks. I thought about my old favorite ship and worked on the fanfiction I'd put down months ago. but then I just stopped thinking about it. And maybe that was partly because school just started, but I think the interest was fading anyways

I was then focused on my ocs and their original story for a couple months, but I haven't thought about them much recently. Again probably because of school

School takes up too much of my time. I wish I had the space for something I love to take up space in my brain. I miss the feeling of loving something so much that i can't stop thinking about it, I miss being excited over characters, I miss shipping

Although I've felt all those things while attending school before. So maybe I'm just in a phase. Maybe I'll fall in love with something again soon. Maybe I need to make myself draw more

I have been wanting to read the remaining 2/3s of Homestuck. Maybe if I remember I can be crazy about that for a while

But it's so frustrating. That my fandoms tend to only last a few months, or come and go in phases. I wish I could stick with something for longer, and more consistently. I'm so tired of my interests waxing and waning. I guess the variety is kinda nice. But it doesn't give me much ability to build much of anything.

#it is late at night and i am mourning past hyperfixations #if i could sleep i would #but my brain sucks and also hates me so oh well.#at least i don't have school tomorrow #this is a messy post but im gonna post it anyways #its just me talking to myself but. idk maybe someone else can relate?#im gonna try to sleep now tho.

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sillyrabbit81 · 3 years

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Her Heavy Cross

Summary: Three years after tragedy hits, Lana she decides to start dating again. She meets Will through a dating app and they begin an online romance. After months of constant requests, Lana relents and agrees to meet and go on an irl date with Will. But is Will who he says he is? Lana is quickly pulled into an intense relationship forcing her to confront her tragic past. Will Lana face it or will she close her heart forever?

Pairing: OMC x OFC

Word Count: Approx 2.5k

Warnings: Swearing, smut, spanking, Dom vibes.

Authors Note: The story started as a Henry Cavill fanfiction but I changed it to be an original character, but shades of Henry are still there. Hope you enjoy the story and thanks for reading.

Part 8 Part 10

Part 9

We went to bed not long after that. I think we were both tired from staying up late the night before. Liam went to bed in his underwear, and I wore a singlet and PJ shorts. We talked some more before we fell asleep.

I asked Liam a bit more about his work. He told me the next two weeks were costume fitting, rehearsals, fight training and a few media events. "It's more of a nine to five thing at the moment. It'll be different after Easter when filming starts."

"How is it different?"

"Really long hours, usually fourteen to sixteen hours. There are a few weeks where I'm not needed, though. Although I'm the male lead, the female role is the central one."

"Who is the actress?"

"Myra Roberts."

"Oh, she's Australian."

"Yeah, most of the cast is Australian. I'm the ring in. I'm for, and I'm quoting here, international appeal and name recognition."

Liam asked me about my job. "I told you most of it before," I replied.

"You told me what you did, but you didn't tell me about it."

I told him about my work in a mainstream school support classroom. Most of the kids have cerebral palsy and intellectual disabilities. The classes are small. I was teaching a combined year 3 and 4 class.

Without mentioning specifics or names, I told him some funny stories about the kids, some of the challenges they faced. Some of the feel-good moments when they finally achieved goals they were working towards. Some of the goals were as simple as being able to feed themselves or to write more than a few lines without tiring.

I opened up and told him about the girl who passed away from aspiration pneumonia the first year I was teaching full time. She was in a wheelchair and had a genetic disorder that required ventilation at night. I smiled as I talked about her. I wasn't surprised when a tear rolled down my cheek.

"It's tough, but I love it. I like knowing that the kids get to have a real school experience, be part of the whole school community. They go on excursions, go to assembly, play at lunchtime with the other kids and its good that the mainstream kids grow up with people with disabilities around them. They get to be kids, not hidden away from the world like they were in the past."

Liam wiped my tear away with his thumb. He asked tenderly, "why do you do it?"

"Why do you act?" I asked rhetorically. "It's a calling, a passion, I guess. It's like nine days out of 10, I go home from school happy. Feeling like I've achieved something and feeling like I've supported eight kids to achieve their own small victories. It makes me feel satisfied that I'm doing good in the world. You know, adding something positive."

"That's really beautiful," Liam said. Then he laughed, "It makes what I do feel ridiculous. All I do is play make-believe all day."

"You help people too; you make us feel things. You show us truth and beauty. Give us hope when we feel hopeless. Laughter when we are sad. Make us inspired instead of apathetic. It's no small thing. Our scale is different, that's all. You can effect millions of people for a short time. I aim to effect maybe a hundred people over my career for the rest of their lives. Both are noble causes that will help to leave the world in a better place than when we found it."

"Did I say that you were intelligent earlier?" Liam asked. I shook my head. "I should have."

"Is that more important than being an excellent shag?"

"I don't know about that." Liam laughed, "But I know I like it."

Not long after that, we fell asleep.

When I woke up the next morning, I was trapped by Liam's heavy arm over me, and his hand was cupping one of my breasts. He was still asleep. His breathing was long and deep with a soft snore. I didn't want to disturb him, but my bladder wouldn't wait.

I tried to lift his arm off me and climb out from underneath him, but he pulled me closer. I could feel his morning erection against my bum. As much as I wanted to snuggle into it, I couldn't wait. I lifted his arm again, and I was able to sneak out.

I went to the bathroom. I brushed my teeth and washed my face. Then hopped back into bed. I looked at Liam while he slept. I brushed his hair off his forehead. His dark hair was so thick and soft. He had a few lines on his forehead that just seemed to make him appear more manly. His eyelashes seemed even longer as they laid against his cheeks. Up close, I could see a few faded freckles scattered across his cheeks and nose.

I traced my finger down his nose. He had a slight bump on the bridge. Somehow it didn't make him less attractive. His lips were so kissable, and I couldn't resist touching them either. I ran my fingertip down further, tracing his lips and then down to his dimpled chin. Liam opened his eyes and nearly made me shit myself when he growled and tried to bite my finger.

"Cunt!" I cried in shock, pulling my finger away.

Liam's face took on his own look of shock at my language. Then he laughed and tried to kiss me. I turned my head.

"Nuh-uh. You scared me half to death. How long have you bloody been awake for?"

"A while." He admitted, still smiling. My heart was racing, so I gave him a look exaggerating my anger. "Come on, Sweetheart. That was funny."

"Don't Sweetheart me. Here I was, innocently laying in bed thinking about how gorgeous you are. Meanwhile, you're laying there thinking wouldn't it be funny if I scared the shit out of her." I was trying not to smile, but I'm sure he could tell I wasn't really mad.

"You called me a cunt, though, so I guess we are even."

"That's a term of endearment in Australia." I grinned widely.

"Really?" Liam raised his eyebrows, looking dubious.

"Yeah, for sure. You'd say something like 'Oi mate! You're a sick cunt'." I was enjoying this.

"Which means?"

"Hey, friend! You're a good person, and I like you."

"I'll stick to calling you Sweetheart if that's ok?"

"Alright, cunt."

"Just bring your bum over here so I can fuck your cunt," Liam said, reaching for me.

My stomach flipped, and I felt myself getting aroused. Liam manhandled me onto my stomach and climbed on top of me. His bare hairy chest tickled my shoulders. I could feel him hard, thick and ready against me.

"Let's see if your tight little cunt is ready for me." Liam forced his hand down the front of my shorts. His fingers found their way to my centre, and I moaned as his fingers easily slid between my folds, my desire evident by how wet I was. He slipped a finger into me and my muscles clenched around it.

Too quickly, he removed his hand. Liam's wet fingers made their way to my mouth. "Open up, Sweetheart. Taste how much you want me." My lips parted for him, and he shoved his finger in. I closed my mouth around it, and my tongue lapped the sweet taste of my arousal.

Liam withdrew his finger, and his weight lifted off my back. I turned my head to see what he was doing and saw the condom in his hands. I continued to look over my shoulder as Liam dragged his underwear down, leaving them on his thighs. He held himself at the base and used the other to apply the condom. I watched in fascination as Liam rolled the condom down his shaft, his head was down, and his shoulders were hunched over the task. I really wanted to watch him masturbate one day.

When he was finished, he grabbed my hips and wrenched me up by them until I was on my knees. My head was still on the bed, and I was forced to look away by the new position. My shorts were pulled down my thighs. There was nothing gentle about Liam this morning. Then I panicked, realising how on display I would be. I tried to lay back down, but his firm hands gripped my hips, keeping me in position.

"Don't move," Liam ordered roughly. His hands moved from my hips, and he ran his hand over the curve of my bottom. "You should see yourself from this angle, Sweetheart."

He pressed his hand against my slit and put two fingers straight in. I jumped in surprise, pulling away as his thick fingers stretched me. I felt a sting on my arse cheek, and I flinched in pain.

"I told you not to move. Move again, and you'll get another one." Liam's voice was stern. He rubbed the spot he had just spanked, soothing it.

I waited, not moving, for what seemed like an eternity. The anticipation was killing me. I wanted to move, to tell Liam to stop, but I also wanted to scream at him to hurry up. I needed him inside me. Then I felt the tip of his cock rub against my wet opening, sliding smoothly up and down. Every time it grazed my clit, my anticipation built.

"Please," I murmured.

"Please what? Tell me what you want."

I licked my lips. "I want your cock."

I heard Liam inhale through his teeth. "I'm not going to be gentle."

"I don't care."

I felt Liam position himself at my entrance, and it was all the warning I had. Suddenly he was in me all the way. "Fuck," I cried out in relief and pain.

Liam didn't wait for me to adjust to his size. He started ramming into me like a piston. His hands were back on my hips, pulling me onto him with each thrust. The slap of our bodies meeting was so loud it was nearly all I could hear.

Grabbing my shoulder, Liam lifted me on my knees until our bodies were flush. He grabbed my head and turned it to the side. His lips met mine, and he forced his tongue into my mouth. His kiss devoured me, consuming me completely. His other hand lifted my singlet, freeing my breasts, and he kneaded one roughly before he found my nipple. He gripped me and pinched hard, but I barely felt it. My body reacted to the pain as though it was a pleasure, and electricity seemed to flow through my veins as my whole body felt ablaze.

Liam wrapped his fingers around my neck. The pressure was only slight, but it felt dangerous. He was so strong. If he wanted to destroy me, he could, and there would be nothing I could do about it. Instead of terrifying me, the thought thrilled me. I knew it was insane, wanting to play at the edge, confusing fear and arousal, but the combination was intoxicating.

He broke our kiss. I felt his lips tickle at my ear, and his voice was husky with exertion. "You fucking love this, don't you?"

"Yes," I panted. My voice was ragged and breathy. "Yes, I fucking love it."

I was thrown down on the bed again. My arse still in the air, and my head was pushed down into the bed. Liam held me that way while he unrelentingly pounded me. I felt like a plaything, a toy for his pleasure, as he threw me around where he wanted me. I felt helpless, but I didn't fight him. I submitted to his desires, knowing my body gave him pleasure was its own reward. I let him use me, dominate me, own me, and I knew I would beg for it to happen again and again.

He wasn't completely selfish though, his other hand found my clit, fingers moving over it in rapid little circles. "I need you to cum, Lana. I need to feel you cum."

He played with me varying his speed and firmness. He seemed to understand my body, my moans, my breathing because quickly, he found the rhythm I needed. I shattered beneath his touch. I shouted into the sheets as my release ripped through me. Liam didn't stop rubbing me until I was still.

Giving me no time to recover, Liam continued to rail me, but now he seemed to move impossibly fast. His fingers were digging into my hips, rocking them violently against his thrusts. I felt him engorge, and I braced myself for his release.

"Fuck!" Liam's voice thundered as I felt him pulse inside me. He held my hips still, his movements controlling his orgasm now. He grunted as he made each of his final drives.

Liam finally collapsed next to me, withdrawing himself as he did. I fell to the bed, unable to hold my own weight now that he wasn't holding me up. I took deep, calming breaths, and slowly I felt my strength return.

Shyly, I looked over at Liam. He was on his back, his chest heaving. A sheen of sweat glistened over his body in the morning light. He saw me peeking at him, and he half-smiled. A giggle escaped my lips.

"What are you laughing at?" He sounded amused.

"Nothing, I just feel really..." I didn't know exactly how I felt. I was sore, but that good way you feel sore after a hard workout. I was also calm, relaxed and euphoric. "Content."

"You really liked it?" I nodded. "I'm not too rough?" I shook my head. "Good, cause that was fucking amazing."

I giggled again and looked away. I felt Liam's fingers caress my back. My singlet was still pulled up, and my shorts were still around my ankles. He moved on the bed, and I felt him shuffle closer.

"Your bum's got a perfectly shaped red handprint on it. Did I slap you that hard?" He asked with a hint of concern.

"Yeah, it was hard. Good hard. I mark pretty easily." I turned to face him. He was laying on his side, his elbow bent and his head rested on his hand. He was looking down at my bare bottom, rubbing the spot where he marked me. "Bruises also show up pretty bad. They usually look worse than they feel. I rarely remember where I got them."

"You'll need a safe word if we keep this up." Liam looked up. He smiled briefly when he saw I was looking at him. "I don't want to go too far and really hurt you."

"Yeah, it's probably a good idea." I rolled over and laid on my back. I lifted my hips and put my shorts back on. Liam leaned down to kiss my exposed nipple before helping me pull my singlet back down. He laid his head on my chest, and I played with his soft hair, curling it around my fingers.

"Any ideas?" He asked. "For a safe word, I mean."

"Freeze?" I suggested.

Liam was quiet for a moment before nodded in agreement. "Freeze," he repeated. "I like it."

Part 10

#original character #original fiction #romantic story #happy ever after

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