Unethical polyamory not in the sense that the partners aren't consenting to multiple relationships but in the sense that they kill people as a group
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@writerofshit
Unethical polyamory not in the sense that the partners aren't consenting to multiple relationships but in the sense that they kill people as a group
to me the thing about deification is that something fundamental is lost in the process
people canât be immortal. so in order to be immortal you canât be a person anymore. you have to be distilled. stripped of everything. till you come out the other side as an abstract concept.
Seeing this blog on my dash just whipped me back about 5 years to when I was sitting in my bed reading your fahc drabbles and kicking my legs akgdvshkjdbsl
It's less like visiting an old house and more like being forcibly catapulted into the dustiest corner
But yeah as I reblogged it and saw the icon pop up I was like 'holy shit what year is it'
Best RPF Ship - Round 1 Match 12
Branthony (Brendan Ekstrom/Anthony Green, Bandom) vs Mavin (Michael Jones/Gavin Free, Achievement Hunter)
Branthony
Mavin
Do you ever get reminded of that one really intense longfic that you had every intention of writing and had meticulous notes and complicated outlines for but then something happened and you aren't in the fandom anymore and you still have the desire to write the fic but it's slightly hollow now because it's a good idea and you think it would have been a great fic but you haven't been in the fandom for literally years and you don't have that bit of passion for it that you did when you were writing it and have just a weird moment of nostalgia where you want to reread it but it never existed
get out of my house
reworking an old fahc idea into something resembling original fiction is a fitting way to spend my april fool's day i think
I saw these in work today, I donât know if itâll help your situation but it made me think of your post lol
I also should have answered this sooner, but alas.
So i guess generically they're 'splash balls'??
I grew up always calling them 'splash bombs' because I'm pretty sure that was the brand we had, but also we called them all that??
So I just had the vague memory of something youâd written a while ago and went through your archive looking for it, and Iâve now spent like 30 mins reading through almost all your posts because I forgot how much I love all of your ideas. So I just wanted you to know youâre still one of my favourite writers đ
I absolutely should have responded to this sooner, but truthfully I've needed to revisit frequently, and i didn't want to lose it.
I've been writing 200 words a day based off advice i saw I'm a Tumblr post. Basically it's enough to feel like I've done something, but also not too much that it feels overwhelming. But there's days when it is anyway, and there's days when I wonder how much it even matters whether I write the words or not.
But then i remember this message and it genuinely helps get my brain out of the loop. You are such a kind, wonderful person, and if my silly ideas make you happy then of course they matter.
Thank you, you have no idea how many times you've helped me. đđ
For the fanfic writers post, đ„ș,đ and â ?
đ„ș Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels?
I don't know that this will make a lot of sense, but I'm a big fan of Character A thinking a relationship is one way right up until the point that Character B spells it out for them. It's not even a romantic thing, necessarily. It's them thinking that it's a working relationship, just professional, maybe they're even being used in some capacity, but then here comes the other person to inform them that no, they couldn't give a shit about the job, actually. Fuck the money, fuck the power, fuck all of it. B only cares that A is happy. Did A not realize that they're family now? Because they are, goddamnit.
In other words, scenes that go like
A: You only care about [monetarily important thing]
B: Do I?
B smashes or otherwise destorys monetarily important thing.
B: I care about you, A
I just love characters being kind of blindsided by other people loving them both because of who they are, and in spite of it. I love giving them people they cannot make turn against them. I love letting them be loved unconditionally.
đ Is there a fic of yours that broke your heart?
I think we all know that my track record for finishing stuff is less than stellar, and a majority of shit I did finish has since been privated, so I don't really have anything to point to. I think maybe anything thats been disclaimered as being personal to me in some way. That's less about the fic than it is my own self pity, though.
Some of what I'm writing now gets to me. I won't spoil it much, not that its anywhere close to done anyway. But part of the backstory is someone dealing with a loss and needing to be reminded that while loss is a part of life, it is not the only part. At one point they simply say "It's not fair." and everytime I re-read it I have to take a moment. Because they're right, and there's nothing we can do except live with it.
â What's something that appears in your fics over and over and over again, even if you don't mean to?
Dumb references that I'm pretty sure no one else catches. Current project is chock full of one-off quotes and sneaky reasons for stuff that probabaly only make sense to me. Yes, this is the same project that makes me cry when I think aout the unfairness of death. On occasion, I am multi-faceted.
Unrelated but I also always seem to end up with at least one scene involving deep conversations while lying in bed. It's generally platonic, too. There's something about the combination of intimacy, vulnerability, and anonymity that comes from sharing a bed with someone. Confessions come easier, I think.
---
This is all much longer than I'm sure anyone expected from me, for which I deeply apologize. Also pretty sure all of my answers boil down to 'love makes me cry'
Fanfic Writer Emoji Ask
đ What's a story or scene you've created that you're a smidge embarrassed exists?
đ„ș Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels?
đ€Ą What's a line, scene, or exchange you've written that made you laugh?
đ Has there been a point in a story where you did something just to be playfully mean to your readers?
â Do you have a beta reader?
đ What are some common things you incorporate in your fics? Themes, feels, scenes, imagery, etc.
đą Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?
âš Give you and your writing a compliment. Go on now. You know you deserve it. đ
đ First kiss fics. Love em or hate em?
đ¶ Do you listen to music while you write? What song have you been playing on loop lately?
đ What tools/programs/apps do you use to write?
â Do you have a fic you started, but scrapped?
đââïž Do any irl people know you write fanfic?
đŠ What's the sweetest fic you've created so far?
đ· Do you drink and write?
đ Do you write the spicy stuffs? If so, what's your most popular nsfw fic?
đ Do you have a preferred time of day to write?
đ What made you start writing?
đ How do you feel about comments and feedback?
â What's a trope you will never write?
đČ Would you ever open commissions?
đ§ Do you spend much time researching for your stories?
đ What's your most popular fic?
đ Do you write fics for certain holidays? Which is your favorite holiday inspired fic?
đŻ Have any of your readers accurately guessed major plot points? Care to share which?
đš How do you feel about fan art of your stories?
đ How many fics do you have?
đŠ Do you outline fics or fly by the seat of your pants?
đ Tell me about an up and coming wip please!
đ€ What advice would you give to new fanfic writers that are just getting started?
đ Who's your comfort character?
đ§ Pick a character, and I'll tell you my favorite headcanon for them.
đ€© Who is your favorite character to write?
đ€Č Would you please share a snippet of a wip?
đŹ Which of your fics would you be most horrified for friends, family, or coworkers to stumble upon?
đ What leads you to consider a fic a success?
â What's something that appears in your fics over and over and over again, even if you don't mean to?
đ Would you ever want to turn writing into a career?
â How long does it take you to write a fic, or a chapter?
đ€Ż What's a genre you struggle with as a writer (ex. romance, action, etc.)?
đ Is there a fic of yours that broke your heart?
đ„ How do you feel about criticism?
đ€ Do you have a favorite tag to use when posting your works?
đ„° How do you feel about reader interaction? Are you open to receiving questions about your fics?
there are three kinds of fanfic:
i can fix it
i can make it worse
horny
4. completely original novel with original characters that just happen to look like and have the same names as the characters in this piece of popular media, but otherwise have completely different personalities and backstories.
This is absolutely unfinished, and is 100% my own memories that i, apparently, really need to let go of. I don't think they belong to me anymore, and their other handlers let go a long time ago.
Present
The sun is hot, soaking into the shoulders of Michaelâs t-shirt. He readjusts his baseball cap, smashing his curls down even flatter. He fiddles with the key ring in his hand, running his thumbnail along the groove in the old penthouse key. it comes away dark and dirty. He should have given the key back when Geoff sold the place, but he could never bring himself to let it go. Besides, no one knew how many copies there really were, and the new owner had surely changed the locks. He canât remember their name.
He glances up from his spot, leaning against Fredoâs latest passion project. Itâs an old chevy something or other. Doesnât mater much. Thereâs an older white guy heading his way, hands buried in his pockets.
âCan i help you?â Michael asks. he doesn't move from the car.
âYou got a lighter?â The manâs voice is deep and gravely. Instinctively, MIchael reaches for his front jean pocket, and it isnât until his hand comes up empty does he remember.
âSorry dude, no.â
The guy tilts his head curiously at michael. âShouldâve asked you a couple years ago, huh?â He asks with a smile. Itâs not so much a question as an assumption. Michael nods.
âHell, six months ago Iâdâve been your guy.â Part of him wishes he still smoked, could still have an excuse to be standing out here isolating himself. Truth be told, it wouldnât matter anyway. Fredoâs bound to roll his eyes at Michael regardless.
âgood for you, kid.â THe guy says, nodding. âitâs a goddamn rotten habit.â
MIchael huffs out a laugh. âWorse than some, better than others.â He considers the myriad of other ways he used to pass the time. Cigarettes had been the least of his concern. All behind him now, though, so what difference does it make?
âA-fucking-men, kid.â tHe guy tilts his ehad towards Fredoâs door. âgood luck.â
âWith the car or the addiction?â He misses this too, unloading on strangers heâll never see again.
âBoth.â The guy says, smiling. âBut especially the smokes. Quitting ainât easy, believe me. Done it too many times to count.â
Michaelâs heard this speech before, doesnât care too much to hear it again. He doubts even this time will be his last time quitting. But thatâs fine. Heâs doing better for now. Heâll take what he can get.
âThanks.â Michael says. He wants this guy to leave so he can sit here, wax poetically about his car. The guy salutes him and wlks away, and Michaelâs back to waiting alone.
Double-O-Mog is in the shop, or the closest he can get it to these days. The car is old, and the crew has garages full of shiny new ones. itâs not high on the priority list, doesnât need to be fixed. If Trevor had his way, it wouldâve been junked years ago. BUt Double-O-Mog holds a lot of sentimental value to Michael, and Fredoâs got more free trime than sense to say ânoâ. So here they are.
The door dings open, and Michael looks up.
2016
âThis genuinely sucks, doesn't it?.â The windows are down, and the trees are speeding by in a green blur
âSeriously! And Iâm just saying this song makes no sense.â The windows are down, blowing Gavinâs douchey hairstyle in 12 directions at once. Heâs smiling broadly, one hand dangling out of the window, the other reaching for the dial.
âTouch that knob and lose a finger.â Michael says flatly.
HIs left hand is hanging out his own window, pushing against the air presure of the highway. He has no particular attachment to the song, some one off from some band Jeremy had sent him. Mostly itâs fun to argue with Gavin, call him an idiot and hear him squeak in indignation.
âMichael.â Gavin admonishes, laughing. He flips the channel, landing on a Top 40 station. âSo much better.â He says, grinning smugly at Michael.
Michaelâs pretty sure the singer is Justin Timberlake. itâs kind of terrible. Gavin belts out the lyrics, horrifically off key. âCanât stop the feeling!â He draws out the âeeâ in âfeelingâ. He kind of loves this.
A car pulls beside them, glancing over obviously. Gavin waves, and the driver, a twenty something with dark hair and darker bags under his eyes, waves back. âShit!â Gavin says, leaning toward Michael. He points at the other car. âI worked with him years ago. Glad heâs still around.â
Michael presses harder on the accelerator, and the car lurches forward and past the man Gavin used to know. âCan we go anywhere in this fuckin city without running into somebody you know?â He asks. He flips the turn signal, easing Double-O-Mog into the right lane. Heâs 80% sure they need to get off at the next exit.
âExcuse me for being popular.â Gavin says, sitting back in the seat. He glances out the window. âAre we close?â
âI think?â It doesnât really matter. Either theyâll get off and be right, or theyâll be wrong and have to get back on. Or not. Truthfully, Michael could keep speeding down this highway for forever, keep bickering back and forth with Gavin until they run out of gas. Heâd be happier doing that than going to work.
âRumor has it Chris is working out here now.â Gavin says, turning the volume on the radio down. itâs moved on to a Chainsmokersâ song.
âOh yeah? And the odds of running into him?â
âWith me here?â Gavin grins at him. âPretty damn good.â
2017
Heâs drunk. So goddamn drunk. Heâs not sure how theyâve ended up here, squished into the backseat, Jeremyâs body warm where it presses into Michaelâs. The AC in Double-O-Mog stopped working years ago and they never figured out why. Michael drives with the windows down and itâs fine. But now itâs April and global warming has fucked spring straight into summer. The air feels heavy and humid, like it might actually choke him if he doesnât take his shirt off.
âyou are one of my best friends.â He says instead of disrobing. He means it, too. Theyâve been on the edge of this, have spent too many nights drinking together and sitting too close. The whole crew knows thereâs something there. Something Michael has allowed himself to dream of at night but never say aloud. Heâs wondered, in a desperate longing sort of way, if Jeremy feels it too. Maybe he has before the other night, when they leaned against the hood and Jremy wrapped an arm aorund him.\
âI think you might be my only friend.â Jeremy says. His face is turned into the side of Michaelâs, but Michael wonât turn. What happens if he does? Will it be the beginning of the end? If he turns and they kisss and maybe they have sex, what then? Do they stay friends? Become more than that?
âIâm telling Gavin you said that.â Just keep making jokes, keep trying to sober up. The moment will pass and the cat will stay ambiguous.
âI donât talk to Gav like I talk to you.â Jeremy says, huffing a laugh into his ear. âDefinitely not like we are tonight.â He slips a hand to MIchaelâs knee, slung over Jeremyâs lap.
âTo his great dsappointment.â Michael jokes. His eyes are closed, he still wonât do it.
âMichael.â Jeremy says softly. âI donât want you to do anything youâre not 100% on board with doing. We can go home. Iâll drive, if you want.â
How does he explain to Jeremy that this, snuggled in the back seat of his car, is almost too perfect? That yes; heâs 110% into wherever it goes. He wants it. He wants to turn and kiss Jeremy. He wants Jeremy to kiss him back, to push him into th leather seat, let his hands unbuckle MIchaelâs jeans, let his hands wander farther. He wants Jeremyâs mouth on his body, wants to touch Jeremy in all the places heâs never been privvy to. He wants Jeremy to press into him and place kisses into his collarbone.
He wants to go home, to one bed, to wrao his arms around Jeremy and fall fast asleep. He wants to wake up with sleepy smiles and gentle kisses. He wnats to make Jeremyâs coffee the way he knows he likes it.
How does he explain to Jeremy that he is 100% on board with all of it, but heâs terrified heâll only get tonight?
âDo you want me to drive home?â
Michael turns and kisses him.
2018
The parking lot is dark but warm, mugginess making Michaelâs t-shirt cling to him uncomfortably. Heâs leaning on the hood of Double-O-Mog, Gavin beside him, for what feels like the millionth time of his life. He half expects bells and whistles to go off, mark the occasion as something special. Gavinâs saying something about a trip he took, about Alfredo and competitions, sniper guns and one hundred dollars. It strikes Michael that he should be worried, that any place on earth the story would turn heads. But not here.
Here is safe, and fun, and it feels like theyâre on top of the world.
He flicks his thumb against the filter of his cigarette, ashing it into the air. A small speck floats down onto the toe of Gavinâs converse.
âMichael.â Gavin whines. He doesnât move his foot, doesnât shake the ash away. âDidnât anyone teach you itâs not polite to ash on people? Who raised you?â He puts his own cigarette to his lips, blows the smoke into Michaelâs face almost immediately. Michael turns his head away but takes a drag anyway.
âDick.â He looks back to Gavin, their eyes meet. âFor the record, no, she never tld me not to ash on people. She just told me not to smoke at all.â
Gavin nods as if he understands. As if their childhoods are even remotely comparable. As if if he heard the same message, hadnât been caught smoking at 13 and been sneered at because they were menthols and not reds. âYeah, I can see that.â He flicks his cigarette butt and it sails three spots away, landing in a puddle. He whistles in satisfaction. âCan I guess her stance on premarital sex?â He asks, smirking at Michael.
âFirmly against.â Michael says, and his laugh has no real humor to it. He puts his cigarette to his lips but withdraws it. âBut hell, even if we were married, itâs not like sheâd recognize it.â Itâs weird to say out loud. It hurts. He takes another drag, ashes the cigarette again.
âTHatâs fine.â Gavin says, shaking his head. He reaches back, picking up MIchaelâs pack from behind him. âWeâd never get married anyway.â Michael eyes him. âYou mind?â Gavin asks, but heâs already pulling one out, already moving past the potential conversation. Michael shrugs. Gavin reaches out and digs for the lighter in Michaelâs jean pocket. Michael doesnât portest, doesnât push him away. Just laughs and shakes his head. He canât remember a time they werenât like this.
Far before they slept together it even made out, Gavin never could keep his hands to himself. It was always a oint of pride for him, and indication of how much their friendship meant. 'Im so into dudes' he'd say, lying on top of Michael. 'But there's nothing going on here, because we're friends and I respect you too much.' It hadn't mattered, in the end. They'd still made out that one time, and they'd ended up fucking anyway. Four months prior, if his math is correct.
Lighter extricated, Gavin cups his hand gently around the cigarette in his mouth. it lights, he puffs, smoke billowing out of his mouthy after a beat. He wrinkles his nose. âGod, since when do you smoke reds?â
âSince a few months ago.â MIchael says, flicking his own cigarette away. It doesnât even come close to Gavinâs. He remembers the look of surprise on Trevorâs face when heâd pulled 305âs out of his pocket. Heâd shrugged, told him the same thing he'll tell Gavin now.
âI thought you hated them.â Gavin says. They watch the smoke curl up toward the stars. Gavin taps the top of his cigarette and the ash falls to the ground.
âI do.â MIchael confirms, slipping one frfom the pack. The admission is on the tip of his tongue. He doesnât know if Gavin will understand, the feeling or the reason. âOnly smoke âem when I hate myself extra.â he says, putting the cigarette to his lips. Gavin blinks at him but hands the lighter over.
âWell that makes no sense.â Gavin looks away from him, tip of his cigarette glowing cherry red as he inhales. âIf youâre gonna have a bad habit you might as well enjoy it.â He says quietly.
Thereâs the click of the lighter and then, spoken around the smoke-
âExactly.â
The word hangs in the air, but neither of them acknowledge it. Michael could explain farther, tell Gavin that honestly, itâs them these past few months, feeling like heâs betraying everyone, but especially Gavinâs ânot technically ex because they never actually called it datingâ. But they were. Everyone knew it, had accepted them like one of the crew. Everything had been great.
ANd then it fell apart.
Gavin got cagey and broke it off, and then- well, theyâd always been on the cusp too, hadnât they? Drunken confessions of mutual attraction, a kiss, then nothing. Gavin got serious until he wasnât, then they picked back up. By that point, Jeremy had had Matt in his bed, and lads nights always did end in sharing blankets and sitting too close. But there was technically no one to feel guilty about. it was good, great, even. Michael liked sleeping with Gavin, liked the way he liked to cuddle after, liked the way his hand felt around Michaelâs throat.
He still hadnât switched back to menthols, though.
âSo.â Gavin says, instead of addressing the elephant. Just as well. Michael has no interest in talking about feelings, especially not with Gavin. He nods back at the car. âYou wanna have sex tonight? We can drive out to the middle of nowhere, like we used to.â he says with a grin.
the smoke settles in his lungs, harsh and suffocating. The cherry glows, bright and hot, racing toward his knuckles. He shouldnât, should make better choices than fucking his best friend in the backseat of his car.
He flicks his cigarette. âYeah.â He says finally. âSounds like a plan.â
I know i said this mooooonths ago, but what if i put out the thing I wrote that's just... My real life memories placed loosely on the Lads? Michael specifically, because goddamnit if i didn't make loud and angry my personality for a few years too.
It's just... They're some memories i both want desperately to revisit and also to bury like I've never even heard of them
I kind of want to add to them, but they're supposed to involve the car but the new ones don't..... There's ways around that though, I guess
Also it's like 3:30 Am and i am still Drunk
I know ive said it before but like... The thing wouldn't be done, or edited much, or anything really. It would just be my raw goddamn emotions on your screen, and lacking context that make them hurt
I know i said this mooooonths ago, but what if i put out the thing I wrote that's just... My real life memories placed loosely on the Lads? Michael specifically, because goddamnit if i didn't make loud and angry my personality for a few years too.
It's just... They're some memories i both want desperately to revisit and also to bury like I've never even heard of them
I kind of want to add to them, but they're supposed to involve the car but the new ones don't..... There's ways around that though, I guess
Also it's like 3:30 Am and i am still Drunk