So I was scooting through a Google search last night at about 10pm, trying to find myself some new Initial D fanfic to read in bed. I’ve been an ID fan since 1998 and my love for the series came back hard about three months ago, much like my love for FFVII. I’m old, friends.
I’m scrolling and scrolling, but only finding ancient, archived ff.net pages because let’s face it, Initial D is an antique now, and even the anime remake of the first season is like, five years old. I click an author’s page that shows the search I’m looking for and find a half dozen or so fics, some rated R, some just gen. Okay, I think to myself, the first gen fic is written well, involves my fave characters, and is only about 5k in length. Long story short, I read the author’s other ID fics, too, and they’re great.
By this time, it’s about 1130pm. An hour and a half past by bedtime.
The longest one is 60k, and it’s magnificent. Four fave characters, story line and character development, decent slow scenes, and some filthy mature content. I’m in love. I scroll through the author’s other fics and find about four more fandoms I once actively participated in and read those fics too, only to come across another lengthy one in a fandom I distinctly remember being part of, but leaving suddenly after a rather bad breakup.
That fic is also nearly 60k, and is unfinished. It’s emotionally scarring, mentally dangerous, and frighteningly familiar. Was it a favourite from twenty years ago? I ask myself. Surely I would’ve bookmarked this author on ff.net or aff.net, when I was practically living there.
Keep in mind it’s now almost 1am, and I have to be up at 630am for work.
It never occurred to me to actually go to the author’s bio page and follow up with how active they were. Maybe they were still writing. Maybe they updated on a different site somewhere else, and left a link behind. The bio page shows the author’s name; a single name from the manga whose fic was the unfinished, emotionally scarring 60k I just finished reading. Makes sense: we all chose screen names according to what we were into at the time.
I click the link labelled ‘EMAIL’ to take a peek at the author’s email address, and to see if it shows me anything. I wait a moment and the email address pops up in a separate window.
It’s my email address. The one I’ve had since about 1995, when I got my first computer at home with internet access. I frown, confused, and try it again with the same result.
I’m the author. The author’s name is my online writing handle from approximately twenty years ago. I wrote those fics I’d just read. I’m the asshole who left that gorgeous, disturbing, 60k fic unfinished since 2006. I might have to remedy my own mistake and continue writing it.
Mind absolutely blown, people.
andulkaphoto
discoholicmusic
annaxmalina
tangentwithtanner
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baratheonpilled
