#one of the few good things about myself is that I don’t really have any kinds of sleep disorders

[cosmicdahlias]

Top Student

Ford Pines x Reader

MINORS DNI

Professor Pines has seemed a little down lately. You stop by his office with the intention of raising his spirits, as well as… other things.

tags: professor ford au, teacher/student relationship, oral, multiple orgasms, biting, fdom/msub, bondage, praise kink, p in v, creampie

okay confession this is inspired by a crush i had on a teacher in my senior year of high school, dude was a total nerd but in like a hot way. i literally applied myself so hard for him that i finished top of the class, still got the medal to prove it lmao. i’ve always had a thing for well read older men and that ain’t ever changing!!!

You stood outside the door to your Astronomy professor’s office. As of late Professor Pines had seemed less like himself, appearing to be not nearly as engaged in his lectures. He covered the material just fine, but his passion for the subject matter just wasn’t there anymore. He always looked exhausted and worn out as well. Were it any other professor, you still would’ve cared, but there was an ulterior motive that led you to stand at his door. You gave a knock.

“Come in!” Professor Pine’s voice called from behind the door.

You opened it and took in the sight of his office. The room was softly lit by both a floor and desk lamp, giving the space a cozier feel than what overhead lighting could achieve. Well stocked bookshelves stretched to the ceiling and multiple PhD diplomas lined the walls, from what you’d heard he had accumulated at least twelve. His desk faced the window and a couch sat in the corner. You stepped into the room.

“Oh hello, y/n. What a pleasant surprise.” He said.

“Evening, professor.”

“Good evening to you too. Please, take a seat.”

You sat on the couch, it was almost far too nice for just an office. Professor Pines really went above and beyond to make sure his students were comfortable. He turned in his chair to face you.

“So, what can I do for you?” He asked.

“Well, to be blunt I’m a little worried.”

His brow furrowed in concern.

“I’m surprised to hear you say that. You’re doing incredibly well in my course. Don’t go spreading this around, but you’re top of the class. I promise you have little, if anything, to worry about.”

“No, I wasn’t talking about myself. I meant you, professor.”

He gave a confused chuckle.

“Forgive me, I’m afraid I don’t quite understand.”

You took a deep breath.

“You’ve just been so… sad lately. It’s subtle, but you seem distant during your lectures, like you’re just going through the motions. You look so exhausted too.”

Professor Pines fidgeted with his hands.

“I appreciate your concern, but I can assure you I’m doing just fine. I promise.”

You looked at him directly in the eyes.

“Professor…”

“I’m sorry, I really do value your worries, but the life of your professor isn’t something you need invest yourself in. You’re incredibly sweet, but seriously I’m fine.”

“I know depression when I see it, I wouldn’t be a good student if I didn’t care.”

He let out a long sigh.

“If I really cannot dissuade you, then alright. Just promise to keep this between us.”

“Of course.”

“Things haven’t been going well for me romantically. It seems to be one failed relationship after another. They start off great for a few weeks, or if I’m lucky maybe a month or so, but no one has seemed to enjoy my company long term. I’m not exactly romantically adept, so it’s more my own fault than them, but still I’m starting to lose hope of finding someone. I’m not getting any younger and at my age you become painfully aware of just how little time you have left in the grand scheme of things. It’s really starting to feel like loneliness might be it for me.“

“Oh, professor. I had my suspicions that it might’ve been something like this, but I’m so sorry.”

He gave a small, dejected smile.

“You know, I really thought I was doing my best to hide it. Foolish of me to assume that you, my top student, wouldn’t catch on with that intuition of yours. I apologize if it’s affected the quality of my teaching.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Oh goodness, no. You don’t need to do anything for me.”

“Are you sure?” You said, standing and coming close to him.

“Wh- what are you doing?”

“I suppose now is as good a time as any, but I’ve always found you attractive, Professor Pines.”

His cheeks turned a dusty pink.

“Um… I- ah- thank you. I’ve always thought you were incredibly attractive as well, but perhaps you shouldn’t be standing so close like that.”

You moved a hand to his chest, there was a slight firmness to it. You moved in closer, your lips brushing against his ear.

“I think I could benefit from some private instruction, don’t you?” You whispered.

His breath shuddered. You leaned down and kissed him, he moaned softly into your mouth before pulling away.

“N- no, this is wrong. I- we can’t do this. Look, you can sit back down and we can discuss anything pertaining to my class, or you can leave and I’ll see you for tomorrow’s lectu-“

You sat on his desk, spreading your legs and slowly pulling up your skirt.

“I know you want this as badly as I do.” You cooed.

“I can’t- oh dear god, you weren’t wearing anything underneath that skirt this whole time? Did you… plan this?”

“I just figured I could help out my favorite professor.”

You slipped a finger to your clit, Professor Pines watched intently.

“You’re so wet, is this because of me?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve touched myself to you.”

“I’ve seen a lot in my time, but someone as radiant and stunning as you with your hand between your thighs and dripping onto my desk for me is by far the least expected.”

“I don’t think you give yourself enough credit, professor. Do you know how many people would throw themselves at a silver fox like you?” You purred.

Professor Pines moved himself out of his chair to stand in front of you, he cupped your cheek, kissing you passionately.

“If your flattery is a means to get me on my knees for you, I’d say you’ve won me over.” He said as he sank to the floor, his face level with your pussy.

He allowed his hot breath to linger on you for a moment before dragging his tongue up your dripping lips.

“You taste so good, sweetheart.” He said, his mouth finding your clit as you tangled your fingers in his hair.

Despite claiming to be romantically inept, he certainly wasn’t at pleasuring his lover. You had no idea what his past partners didn’t see in him, he could be as awkward as humanly possible, but his looks and skilled tongue would keep you cuffed.

He stopped for a moment and looked at you.

“How does that feel?” He asked.

You stroked his cheek.

“You’re so good for me.” You praised.

Your praise seemed to invigorate him, he returned his mouth and tongue to your clit, lapping at you furiously.

You felt yourself growing close and you tightened your grip on his hair. You moaned loudly as you came, bucking yourself against his face. He held your hips steady, keeping his mouth on you and making you cum again in record time. He refused to stop, not even allowing you to catch your breath before making you cum again and again until you lost count. Your ears rang by the time he removed his mouth.

“Holy fuuuuuck. You’re incredible, Professor Pines.” You panted, your final orgasm subsiding.

“Please, just call me Ford. After making you cum on my tongue that many times I think we’re past the need for formalities.” He said as he stood to kiss you.

“Well then Ford, how about we move this to the couch?” You said as your hearing fully returned to normal.

“But of course, sweetheart.”

He picked you up underneath your thighs and sat on the couch with you straddling his lap. You felt his hard cock press against you through his pants as you kissed him passionately, pulling down the turtleneck of his maroon sweater. You were about to bite his neck when you noticed a cartoonish tattoo of a smiling star giving a double thumbs up with the words “Hey now, I’m an all star.” You failed to stifle a laugh.

“What is it?” Ford asked.

“Nothing.”

You bit down on him, he gasped.

“Oh god, no one has ever done this to me before. People my age aren’t nearly as adventurous.” Ford whimpered.

You laughed again.

“You think that’s adventurous? Let me ask you something, have you ever been dominated before?”

He blushed hard.

“I- no, never. My partners have always preferred I take the dominant role.”

You kissed him deeply, biting his lower lip as you pulled away.

“I’m about to blow your mind, Stanford Pines. Now lie back.”

He followed your command, shifting himself to lay on the couch with you still on top of him.

“You ever had someone tie you up before?” You asked.

He looked away, embarrassed.

“…Not in a sexual way.” He mumbled.

You raised an eyebrow.

“Just what were you doing before you became a college professor?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Guess I’ll just have to fuck the information out of you.” You teased.

“You drive a hard bargain, my dear.”

You unbuckled his belt, pulling it free from his pants. You pinned his arms above his head, looping the belt around his wrists and fashioning it into handcuffs.

“How’s that, not too tight?” You asked.

“No, it feels snug.”

“Good.”

You let your hands travel to his pants, unzipping them and pulling out his cock.

“Goddamn, your previous partners are idiots. Who would pass up a cock like this?” You said, giving him a few strokes.

“Mmmnn, your hand feels so good.”

“I think I know something that’ll feel even better.”

You moved yourself to hover over his cock, slowly sinking down his length. He throbbed as you reached the base of his shaft. You looked down at him and smirked, staying still.

“Y- you can’t just sit there with my cock inside you and not move. Don’t tease me like this.” Ford whimpered.

“I need to hear you tell me how much you want this.”

“Please, I need you.” He said as he frantically attempted to buck his hips.

You pulled yourself off of him.

“No no no, please no, you can’t stop now.” He whined pitifully.

You cupped his chin, your thumb stroking his lips.

“You have to beg. Tell me just how badly you need your top student to fuck you.” You commanded.

“Oh god, please y/n. I need you. I fucking NEED you. Ever since that first day you walked into my class I’ve desired you so intensely. You don’t know how many times I’ve had to stroke myself because I lay awake at night thinking of you. I’ve even touched myself in the lecture hall between classes after seeing you sit in the front row in those little skirts, crossing and uncrossing your legs, your panties just barely visible. I’ve never longed for someone the way I have for you. Please fuck me, I can’t take much more of this.”

“Ugh you’re adorable when you beg, music to my ears.”

You took his full length back inside you, he let out a loud gasping moan as you began to lift and drop your hips.

“Thank you, dear Moses thank you. You feel so good, s- so warm and tight.” He shuddered.

You slipped your hands under his sweater to his nipples, pinching and tugging them. He was a mess of moans and whimpers.

“You like that, smart guy?” You purred.

He looked up at you in surprise.

“Did I say something?” You asked.

“No, I just- it’s funny, you’re not the first person to call me that, but I like it far better coming from you than I did him.”

“That’s my good boy.” You purred.

You felt him throb hard inside you.

“Nnngh, no one has ever said that to me before. Your praise alone could make a man cum.”

“I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

You gripped his shoulders, moving your hips to fully slide him out and back in over and over. Your name left his lips with a moan and he looked up at you, eyes full of pure lust.

“Oh god, just like that. Don’t stop, don’t ever stop.” He whined.

“So needy, you’re doing such a good job for me.”

You felt him throb repeatedly as his moans and whimpers increased in volume and prevalence.

“I’m so close, m- may I cum in you? I need to know what it’s like to fill you with my seed. Please, y/n.” Ford begged.

“Very good, handsome. I didn’t even have to tell you to beg. That alone deserves to be rewarded.”

You picked up your speed and felt the pulse of his cock one final time as he came deep inside you. He bucked his hips, trying his hardest to go as far in you as he could.

“Y- you’re s- s- so incredible.” He stuttered.

“And you make for one hell of a ride, handsome.” You purred, stroking his cheek.

You pulled yourself off of him and he looked down, his and your cum had completely stained the front of his pants.

“Oh god, we’ve made a mess.” He said, putting his hand to his forehead.

You giggled at the sight of him.

“Don’t laugh, you’re wearing a skirt, you can get away with it.” He groaned.

“Sorry, I just like the idea of leaving you with a little reminder of myself.”

Ford took your hand.

“You really are amazing, sweetheart. No one has ever come close to feeling like you.” He whispered.

“Yeah? How would you like to do this again sometime?”

“R- really?” He asked.

“Oh without question.”

“Then by all means, feel free to stop by tomorrow. Perhaps you could let me see you sans clothes next time.”

“Good boy, sounds like a plan.” You said, leaning down to kiss him.

[lynzishell]

Prev // Next

Transcript below the cut:

Atlas: Dawn. Dawn: I know. Atlas: You crossed so many lines. Dawn: I know, okay? I know.

Atlas: Why didn’t you come to me? We could’ve talked it through before you did anything. Dawn: I… I didn’t think you’d understand. Atlas: That’s fair. I’m not sure I do. Dawn: Exactly.

Atlas: So, help me understand then. Explain it to me. Dawn: [sighs] Getting married and having a baby… it brought up a lot of feelings I wasn’t prepared for. Atlas: What kind of feelings?

Dawn: Feelings about mom. I hated that she wasn’t there, that she wouldn’t want to be, that she doesn’t even know she has a granddaughter and probably never will. I was sad and I was angry, and some days I even missed her which really caught me off guard. I started to wish that she was there, that she’d realize the ways she failed us and show up wanting to make amends.

Atlas: Why didn’t you tell me any of this? Dawn: [shrugs] I didn’t want to admit it, kept telling myself that I was being silly, that I should stop clinging to this idea of a mother that I’ll never have.   Atlas: What about Megan? I know she’s not your mom, but she loves you and she stepped in to help.

Dawn: I know. And I’m so grateful, I really am, but I couldn’t appreciate it at the time. Her being there almost made it more obvious what I was lacking, like it was being shoved in my face. This is going to sound so childish, but I didn’t want those things with her, I wanted them with my own mom, and I hated that I couldn’t have that. I became resentful, and then I felt guilty for not appreciating her.

Atlas: I had no idea.

Dawn: That’s because I didn’t want you to. I didn’t want anyone to. I thought if I told anyone, they’d think I was awful, so I kept it to myself, and it ate me up. And when Phoenix got that letter from his dad, it was like everything I wanted was being handed to him, and he wanted to just throw it away. I couldn’t let it go, and I let all that shit I’d been carrying cloud my judgement.

Atlas: Talk about shit timing. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been.

Dawn: Yeah. It was not my finest hour. Atlas: So, how are things now?

Dawn: They’re good. Phoenix spent a few days in Chestnut Ridge, got to meet his brother and talk things out with his dad. It was a struggle at first, but things are going well. He’s decided to give his dad a chance. He says it’s for Danny, because he wants to stay in touch with him, but I think it’s more than that.

Atlas: And you? How are you doing with everything? Dawn: Better. Li referred me to a therapist. I’ve only had one session so far, but I think it will be good for me. Atlas: That’s great. Li sounds like a good friend. Dawn: She is. I’m really glad I met her.

Dawn: So, what about you? You’re married now! Atlas: I know. Who would’ve thought? Dawn: Oh please. I always knew you two would get there eventually. Can’t say I’m not disappointed I didn’t get to be there for it, though. Atlas: I know, but we had to do it our way. And I’m really happy. Dawn: And I’m really happy for you. How is he doing, by the way?

Atlas: I don’t know. He’s struggling a bit. Hasn’t really been himself since we got home. Dawn: Losing Japer really hit him hard, didn’t it? Atlas: Yeah, it did. But I feel like there’s something more going on. Dawn: Like what?

Atlas: I’m not sure, but he’ll talk to me when he’s ready. He always does. Dawn: Ough, I wish I had your patience.

[a-dragons-journal]

i don’t think my words hold much value to people like you, and i don’t think you would be willing to listen or take it to heart, but it’s still worth trying. i would like you to realise that you are human in every way. you are not an animal, you are not a dragon. (you probably already know this. maybe you’re in denial. i don’t know) either way, none of you would actually be willing to give it even a second of thought because you’re insecure about yourself, and you’re insecure because you know you’re human. i assure you that you will not reach full personal contentment until you live out your life without pretending to be a mythical creature. wtv have a good day

Ooh, I haven’t gotten one of these asks in a few years.

So I ask this, and every other question I will follow up with, completely genuinely, and if you’re willing to really get into the weeds discussing it I’d love to do so (though I’ll probably reblog any follow-ups to my other blog): why do you think you know me and my experiences better than I do?

Why do you think you can armchair diagnose me with insecurity? What evidence do you actually have for that, besides the fact that I’m nonhuman? What evidence do you have that I’m not already content and fulfilled in my life?

Is it possible that identifying as nonhuman is unrelated to those things entirely, and you’re making a false assumption?

I get it. It looks crazy, when you’re completely new to the concept. It’s weird - it is! But pause and listen to us when we talk about our experiences for a moment.

For many of us, myself included, finding nonhumanity is a moment of suddenly understanding - of pieces falling into place, of my life experiences suddenly making sense. Awakening is something that made me more content and fulfilled, not less - there’s a sadness in it sometimes, yes, but so too is there the comfort of understanding yourself in a new way, of realizing, oh. I’m not just weird. There’s not something wrong with me. There are other people like me.

(If this sounds a lot like the experience of figuring out you’re queer, there’s a reason for that.)

To use myself as an example of the flaws in your hypothesis: there’s… honestly not much dissatisfaction with my life right now. I’ve got a stable job with decent income. I’d like to be able to cut back my hours a bit, but that will come in time. I’ve got enough free time as it is to do my art and play my tabletop games with friends in my off time. I’ve got family and friends around me. Sure, I miss my wings, but I’m hoping to pick up powered paragliding in the near future and hoping that’ll scratch that itch at least somewhat. I’m doing pretty well, honestly. This isn’t the case for all otherkin, but it’s not the case for all orthohumans (people who aren’t alterhuman in any way) either. What it does indicate, however, is that your hypothesis that being otherkin inherently means you’re insecure and unhappy with your life is false, or at minimum flawed - if it were true, I wouldn’t exist.

So, I ask again: why do you think you understand my own experiences better than I do? And moreover, why does it bother you so much that I am the way I am?

The name for the thing you’re doing here, intentionally or not, is concern trolling - trying to push me out of an identity by professing concern for problems that don’t exist. Why? Why are you going out of your way to tell other people they’re wrong about their own identity? Why is your reaction, when you see an identity you don’t understand, to decide it’s unhealthy, or just make-believe, or whatever, and then to make that the problem of the people who identify that way? What exactly makes you think this is inherently unhealthy?

Would it not be better to devote that energy to trying to understand us, instead of trying to change us?

You don’t have to answer these questions to me, obviously, but I do encourage you to answer them to yourself at least. Pick apart your worldview for a minute and see if it actually holds up under scrutiny - it’s good for you, and mental enrichment to boot! If you are willing to really get into the weeds of this discussion with me, again, I’d love to do that - I love having discussions like this, and it’s good for me to have my worldview challenged every so often too! Please, genuinely, pick at the flaws in my logic if you see them - if it can be pulled apart under scrutiny, it needs to be pulled apart and rebuilt. No one on the internet is obligated to let a stranger do that, obviously, but personally I enjoy it - it’s a meat pumpkin for me - so let’s talk, if you’re up for it. It’s been a hot minute since I’ve gotten a good interesting antikin to debate with.

[hikaruchen]

LIFE WOULD BE SO MUCH BETTER IF I COULD JUST STOP FEELING GUITLY ABOUT SLEEPING FOR EIGHT HOURS

[trash-bin-ary]

I can go on that ramble about the future and housing and aromanticism though now. It’s like man, the future is already something that is so inconceivable to me. To then have the sexuality that does not allow me to slot in the cookie cutter you find a romantic partner that you end up moving in with is terrible. And like In this economy I sure can’t live alone, and I know at least when I’m sick I desperately want someone to be there. And then there’s I’m likely to move around a bunch how do you deal with that housing, other than the work having paid housing. like constantly having to find somewhere that’s looking for roommates and it isn’t terrible? And then long term, when I find a job I stay at for a while (that’s remote so I’d love to live in a remote place) is it like I find a place to stay and then I’m stuck there forever and I just have to hope that I make good friends at this new place. (Friends that don’t want to live exclusively with a romantic partner no less.) I want to live with close friends so bad and I’m not sure if that’s a feasible thing for my future. I’m a person that has so much hope so I have to assume that yes it will work out, I do believe that. But man just hearing someone mention it, sparks that hope.

[nellectronic]

add “friday night parties” to the list of things I am NOT gonna miss about living in a dorm… I mean noisy neighbors were already on there but this specifically bothers me on so many levels

[salsflore]

[jimgandolfini]

I’m feeling really proud about the things I did this weekend at work for my favorite of our events/duties. And if I’m being honest the stuff I put together and the way I briefed my coworkers on what to do and my public interaction + the things I’m envisioning for the future… I keep thinking about when my coworker told me “if anyone is going to take over for [museum] paul and match his level of enthusiasm, it’s going to be you”

like modesty aside I feel really good about what I did/will do and I just really feel like I’m channeling MP a lot and that’s just so super.. 2me

[leadmeastraylittlefairy]

.

[caelum-in-the-avatarverse]

Fandom can do a little gatekeeping. As a treat.

So I finally decided to archive-lock my fics on AO3 last night. I’ve been considering it since the AI scrape last year, but the tipping point was this whole lore.fm debacle, coupled with some thoughts I’ve been thinking regarding Fandom These Days in general and Fandom As A Community in particular. So I wanna explain why I waited so long, why I locked my stuff up now, and why I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m a-okay with making it harder for people to see my stories.

Lurkers really are great, tho

I’m a chronic lurker, and have been since I started hanging out on the internet as a teen in the 00s. These days it’s just cuz I don’t feel a need to socialize very often, but back then it was because I was shy and knew I was socially awkward. Even if I made an account, I’d spend months lurking on message boards or forums or Livejournals, watching other people interact and getting a feel for that particular community’s culture and etiquette before I finally started interacting myself. And y’know, that approach saved me a lot of embarrassment. Over the course of my lurking on any site, there was always some other person who’d clearly joined up five minutes after learning the place existed, barged in without a care for their behavior, and committed so many social faux pas that all the other users were immediately annoyed with them at best. I learned a lot observing those incidents. Lurk More is Rule 33 of the internet for very good reason.

Lurking isn’t bad or weird or creepy. It’s perfectly normal. I love lurking. It’s hard for me to not lurk - socializing takes a lot of energy out of me, even via text. (Heck it took 12 hours for me to write this post, I wish I was kidding--) Occasionally I’ll manage longer bouts of interaction - a few weeks posting here, almost a year chatting in a discord there - but I’m always gonna end up going radio silent for months at some point. I used to feel bad about it, but I’ve long since made peace with the fact that it’s just the way my brain works. I’m a chronic lurker, and in the long term nothing is going to change that.

The thing with being a chronic lurker is that you have to accept that you are not actually seen as part of the community you are lurking in. That’s not to say that lurkers are unimportant - lurkers actually are important, and they make up a large proportion of any online community - but it’s simple cause and effect. You may think of it as “your community”, but if you’ve never said a word, how is the community supposed to know you exist? If I lurked on someone’s LJ, and then that person suddenly friendslocked their blog, I knew that I had two choices: Either accept that I would never be able to read their posts again, or reach out to them and ask if I could be added to their friends list with the full understanding that I was a rando they might not decide to trust. I usually went with the first option, because my invisibility as a lurker was more important to me than talking to strangers on the internet.

Lurking is like sitting on a park bench, quietly people-watching and eavesdropping on the conversations other people are having around you. You’re in the park, but you’re not actively participating in anything happening there. You can see and hear things that you become very interested in! But if you don’t introduce yourself and become part of the conversation, you won’t be able to keep listening to it when those people walk away. When fandom migrated away from Livejournal, people moved to new platforms alongside their friends, but lurkers were often left behind. No one knew they existed, so they weren’t told where everyone else was going. To be seen as part of a fandom community, you need to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known, etc. etc.

There’s nothing wrong with lurking. There can actually be benefits to lurking, both for the lurkers and the communities they lurk in. It’s just another way to be in a fandom. But if that is how you exist in fandom--and remember, I say this as someone who often does exist that way in fandom--you need to remember that you’re on the outside looking in, and the curtains can always close.

I’ve always been super sympathetic to lurkers, because I am one. I know there’s a lot of people like me who just don’t socialize often. I know there’s plenty of reasons why someone might not make an account on the internet - maybe they’re nervous, maybe they’re young and their parents don’t allow them to, maybe they’re in a bad situation where someone is monitoring their activity, maybe they can only access the internet from public computer terminals. Heck, I’ve never even logged into AO3 on my phone--if I’m away from my computer I just read what’s publicly available. 

I know I have people lurking on my fics. I know my fics probably mean a lot to someone I don’t even know exists. I know this because there are plenty of fics I love whose writers don’t know I exist.

I love my commenters personally; I love my lurkers as an abstract concept. I know they’re there and I wish them well, and if they ever de-lurk I love them all the more.

So up until last year I never considered archive-locking my fic, because I get it. The AI scraping was upsetting, but I still hesitated because I was thinking of lurkers and guests and remembering what it felt like to be 15 and wondering if it’d be worth letting a stranger on the internet know I existed and asking to be added to their friends list just so I could reread a funny post they made once.

But the internet has changed a lot since the 00s, and fandom has changed with it. I’ve read some things and been doing some thinking about fandom-as-community over the last few years, and reading through the lore.fm drama made me decide that it’s time for me to set some boundaries.

I still love my lurkers, and I feel bad about leaving any guest commenters behind, especially if they’re in a situation where they can’t make an account for some reason. But from here on out, even my lurkers are going to have to do the bare minimum to read my fics--make an AO3 account.

Should we gatekeep fandom?

I’ve seen a few people ask this question, usually rhetorically, sometimes as a joke, always with a bit of seriousness. And I think…yeah, maybe we should. Except wait, no, not like that--

A decade ago, when people talked about fandom gatekeeping and why it was bad to do, it intersected with a lot of other things, mainly feminism and classism. The prevalent image of fandom gatekeeping was, like, a man learning that a woman likes Star Wars and haughtily demanding, “Oh, yeah? Well if you’re REALLY a fan, name ten EU novels” to belittle and dismiss her, expecting that a “real fan” would have the money and time to be familiar with the EU, and ignoring the fact that male movie-only fans were still considered fans. The thing being gatekept was the very definition of “being a fan” and people’s right to describe themselves as one.

That’s not what I mean when I say maybe fandom should gatekeep more. Anyone can call themselves a fan if they like something, that’s fine. But when it comes to the ability to enjoy the fanworks produced by the fandom community…that might be something worth gatekeeping.

See, back in the 00s, it was perfectly common for people to just…not go on the internet. Surfing the web was a thing, but it was just, like, a fun pastime. Not everyone did it. It wasn’t until the rise of social media that going online became a thing everyone and their grandmother did every day. Back then, going on the internet was just…a hobby.

So one of the first gates online fandom ever had was the simple fact that the entire world wasn’t here yet.

The entire world is here now. That gate has been demolished.

And it’s a lot easier to find us now. Even scattered across platforms, fandom is so centralized these days. It isn’t a network of dedicated webshrines and forums that you can only find via webrings anymore, it’s right there on all the big social media sites. AO3 didn’t set out to be the main fanfic website, but that’s definitely what it’s become. It’s easy for people to find us--and that includes people who don’t care about the community, and just want “content.”

Transformative fandom doesn’t like it when people see our fanworks as “content”. “Content” is a pretty broad term, but when fandom uses it we’re usually referring to creative works that are churned out by content creators to be consumed by an audience as quickly as possible as often as possible so that the content creator can generate revenue. This not-so-new normal has caused a massive shift in how people who are new to fandom view fanworks--instead of seeing fic or art as something a fellow fan made and shared with you, they see fanworks as products to be consumed.

Transformative fandom has, in general, always been a gift economy. We put time and effort into creating fanworks that we share with our fellow fans for free. We do this so we don’t get sued, but fandom as a whole actually gets a lot out of the gift economy. Offer your community a story, and in return you can get comments, build friendships, or inspire other people to write things that you might want to read. Readers are given the gift of free stories to read and enjoy, and while lurking is fine, they have the choice to engage with the writer and other readers by leaving comments or making reclists to help build the community.

And look, don’t get me wrong. People have never engaged with fanfic as much as fan writers wish they would. There has always been “no one comments anymore” wank. There have always been people who only comment to say “MORE!” or otherwise demand or guilt trip writers into posting the next chapter. But fandom has always agreed that those commenters are rude and annoying, and as those commenters navigate fandom they have the chance to learn proper community etiquette.

However, now it seems that a lot of the people who are consuming fanworks aren’t actually in the community. 

I won’t say “they aren’t real fans” because that’s silly; there’s lots of ways to be a fan. But there seem to be a lot of fans now who have no interest in fandom as a community, or in adhering to community etiquette, or in respecting the gift economy. They consume our fics, but they don’t appreciate fan labor. They want our “content”, but they don’t respect our control over our creations.

And even worse--they see us as a resource. We share our work for free, as a gift, but all they see is an open-source content farm waiting to be tapped into. We shared it for free, so clearly they can do whatever they want with it. Why should we care if they feed our work into AI training datasets, or copy/paste our unfinished stories into ChatGPT to get an ending, or charge people for an unnecessary third-party AO3 app, or sell fanbindings on etsy for a profit without the author’s permission, or turn our stories into poor imitations of podfics to be posted on other platforms without giving us credit or asking our consent, while also using it to lure in people they can datascrape for their Forbes 30 Under 30 company? 

And sure, people have been doing shady things with other people’s fanworks since forever. Art theft and reposting has always been a big problem. Fanfic is harder to flat-out repost, but I’ve heard of unauthorized fic translations getting posted without crediting the original author. Once in…I think the 2010s? I read a post by a woman who had gone to some sort of local bookselling event, only to find that the man selling “his” novel had actually self-published her fanfic. (Wish I could find that one again, I don’t even remember where I read it.)

But aside from that third example, the thing is…as awful as fanart/writing theft is, back in the day, the main thing a thief would gain from it was clout. Clout that should rightfully go to the creators who gifted their work in the first place, yeah, but still. Just clout. People will do a lot of hurtful things for clout, but fandom clout means nothing outside of fandom. Fandom clout is not enough to incentivize the sort of wide-scale pillaging we’re seeing from community outsiders today.

Money, on the other hand… Well, fandom’s just a giant, untapped content farm, isn’t it? Think of how much revenue all that content could generate.

Lurkers are a normal and even beneficial part of any online community. Maybe one day they’ll de-lurk and easily slide into place beside their fellow fans because they already know the etiquette. Maybe they’re active in another community, and they can spread information from the community they lurk in to the community they’re active in. At the very least, they silently observe, and even if they’re not active community members, they understand the community.

Fans who see fanworks as “content” don’t belong in the same category as lurkers. They’re tourists. 

While reading through the initial Reddit thread on the lore.fm situation, I found this comment:

[ID: Reddit User Cabbitowo says: ... So in anime fandoms we have a word called tourist and essentially it means a fan of a few anime and doesn't care about anime tropes and actively criticizes them. This is kind of how fandoms on tiktok feel. They're touring fanfics and fanart and actively criticizes tropes that have been in the fandom since the 60s. They want to be in a fandom but they don't want to engage in fandom 

OP totallymandy responds: Just entered back into Reddit after a long day to see this most recent reply. And as a fellow anime fan this making me laugh so much since it’s true! But it sorta hurts too when the reality sets in. Modern fandom is so entitled and bratty and you’d think it’s the minors only but that’s not even true, my age-mates and older seem to be like that. They want to eat their cake and complain all whilst bringing nothing to the potluck… :/ END ID]

-

“Tourist” is an apt name for this sort of fan. They don’t want to be part of our community, and they don’t have to be in order to come into our spaces and consume our work. Even if they don’t steal our work themselves, they feel so entitled to it that they’re fine with ignoring our wishes and letting other people take it to make AI “podfics” for them to listen to (there are a lot of comments on lore.fm’s shutdown announcement video from people telling them to just ignore the writers and do it anyway). They’ll use AI to generate an ending to an unfinished fic because they don’t care about seeing “the ending this writer would have given to the story they were telling”, they just want “an ending”. For these tourist fans, the ends justify the means, and their end goal is content for them to consume, with no care for the community that created it for them in the first place.

I don’t think this is confined to a specific age group. This isn’t “13-year-olds on Wattpad” or “Zoomers on TikTok” or whatever pointless generation war we’re in now. This is coming from people who are new to fandom, whose main experience with creative works on the internet is this new content culture and who don’t understand fandom as a community. That description can be true of someone from any age group.

It’s so easy to find fandom these days. It is, in fact, too easy. Newcomers face no hurdles or challenges that would encourage them to lurk and observe a bit before engaging, and it’s easy for people who would otherwise move on and leave us alone to start making trouble. From tourist fans to content entrepreneurs to random people who just want to gawk, it’s so easy for people who don’t care about the fandom community to reap all of its fruits. 

So when I say maybe fandom should start gatekeeping a bit, I’m referring to the fact that we barely even have a gate anymore. Everyone is on the internet now; the entire world can find us, and they don’t need to bother learning community etiquette when they do. Before, we were protected by the fact that fandom was considered weird and most people didn’t look at it twice. Now, fandom is pretty mainstream. People who never would’ve bothered with it before are now comfortable strolling in like they own the place. They have no regard for the fandom community, they don’t understand it, and they don’t want to. They want to treat it just like the rest of the content they consume online.

And then they’re surprised when those of us who understand fandom culture get upset. Fanworks have existed far longer than the algorithmic internet’s content. Fanworks existed long before the internet. We’ve lived like this for ages and we like it.

So if someone can’t be bothered to respect fandom as a community, I don’t see why I should give them easy access to my fics.

Think of it like a garden gate

When I interact with commenters on my fic, I have this sense of hospitality.

The comment section is my front porch. The fic is my garden. I created my garden because I really wanted to, and I’m proud of it, and I’m happy to share it with other people. 

Lots of people enjoy looking at my garden. Many walk through without saying anything. Some stop to leave kudos. Some recommend my garden to their friends. And some people take the time to stop by my front porch and let me know what a beautiful garden it is and how much they’ve enjoyed it. 

Any fic writer can tell you that getting comments is an incredible feeling. I always try to answer all my comments. I don’t always manage it, but my fics’ comment sections are the one place that I manage to consistently socialize in fandom. When I respond to a comment, it feels like I’m pouring out a glass of lemonade to share with this lovely commenter on my front porch, a thank you for their thank you. We take a moment to admire my garden together, and then I see them out. The next time they drop by, I recognize them and am happy to pour another glass of lemonade.

My garden has always been open and easy to access. No fences, no walls. You just have to know where to find it. Fandom in general was once protected by its own obscurity, an out-of-the-way town that showed up on maps but was usually ignored.

But now there’s a highway that makes it easy to get to, and we have all these out-of-towner tourists coming in to gawk and steal our lawn ornaments and wonder if they can use the place to make themselves some money.

I don’t care to have those types trampling over my garden and eating all my vegetables and digging up my flowers to repot and sell, so I’ve put up a wall. It has a gate that visitors can get through if they just take the time to open it.

Admittedly, it’s a small obstacle. But when I share my fics, I share them as a gift with my fellow fans, the ones who understand that fandom is a community, even if they’re lurkers. As for tourist fans and entrepreneurs who see fic as content, who have no qualms ignoring the writer’s wishes, who refuse to respect or understand the fandom community…well, they’re not the people I mean to share my fic with, so I have no issues locking them out. If they want access to my stories, they’ll have to do the bare minimum to become a community member and join the AO3 invite queue.

And y’know, I’ve said a lot about fandom and community here, and I just want to say, I hope it’s not intimidating. When I was younger, talk about The Fandom Community made me feel insecure, and I didn’t think I’d ever manage to be active enough in fandom spaces to be counted as A Member Of The Community. But you don’t have to be a social butterfly to participate in fandom. I’ll always and forever be a chronic lurker, I reblog more than I post, I rarely manage to comment on fic, and I go radio silent for months at a time--but I write and post fanfiction. That’s my contribution.

Do you write, draw, vid, gif, or otherwise create? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you leave comments? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you curate reclists? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you maintain a fandom blog or fuckyeah blog? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you provide a space for other fans to convene in? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you regularly send asks (off anon so people know who you are)? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you have fandom friends who you interact with? Congrats, you're a community member.

There’s lots of ways to be a fan. Just make sure to respect and appreciate your fellow fans and the work they put in for you to enjoy and the gift economy fandom culture that keeps this community going.

[bookishdiplodocus]

The Neurodivergent Writer’s Guide to Fun and Productivity

(Even when life beats you down)

Look, I’m a mom, I have ADHD, I’m a spoonie. To say that I don’t have heaps of energy to spare and I struggle with consistency is an understatement. For years, I tried to write consistently, but I couldn’t manage to keep up with habits I built and deadlines I set.

So fuck neurodivergent guides on building habits, fuck “eat the frog first”, fuck “it’s all in the grind”, and fuck “you just need time management”—here is how I manage to write often and a lot.

Focus on having fun, not on the outcome

This was the groundwork I had to lay before I could even start my streak. At an online writing conference, someone said: “If you push yourself and meet your goals, and you publish your book, but you haven’t enjoyed the process… What’s the point?” and hoo boy, that question hit me like a truck.

I was so caught up in the narrative of “You’ve got to show up for what’s important” and “Push through if you really want to get it done”. For a few years, I used to read all these productivity books about grinding your way to success, and along the way I started using the same language as they did. And I notice a lot of you do so, too.

But your brain doesn’t like to grind. No-one’s brain does, and especially no neurodivergent brain. If having to write gives you stress or if you put pressure on yourself for not writing (enough), your brain’s going to say: “Huh. Writing gives us stress, we’re going to try to avoid it in the future.”

So before I could even try to write regularly, I needed to teach my brain once again that writing is fun. I switched from countable goals like words or time to non-countable goals like “fun” and “flow”.

Rewire my brain: writing is fun and I’m good at it

I used everything I knew about neuroscience, psychology, and social sciences. These are some of the things I did before and during a writing session. Usually not all at once, and after a while I didn’t need these strategies anymore, although I sometimes go back to them when necessary.

I journalled all the negative thoughts I had around writing and try to reason them away, using arguments I knew in my heart were true. (The last part is the crux.) Imagine being supportive to a writer friend with crippling insecurities, only the friend is you.

Not setting any goals didn’t work for me—I still nurtured unwanted expectations. So I did set goals, but made them non-countable, like “have fun”, “get in the flow”, or “write”. Did I write? Yes. Success! Your brain doesn’t actually care about how high the goal is, it cares about meeting whatever goal you set.

I didn’t even track how many words I wrote. Not relevant.

I set an alarm for a short time (like 10 minutes) and forbade myself to exceed that time. The idea was that if I write until I run out of mojo, my brain learns that writing drains the mojo. If I write for 10 minutes and have fun, my brain learns that writing is fun and wants to do it again.

Reinforce the fact that writing makes you happy by rewarding your brain immediately afterwards. You know what works best for you: a walk, a golden sticker, chocolate, cuddle your dog, whatever makes you happy.

I conditioned myself to associate writing with specific stimuli: that album, that smell, that tea, that place. Any stimulus can work, so pick one you like. I consciously chose several stimuli so I could switch them up, and the conditioning stays active as long as I don’t muddle it with other associations.

Use a ritual to signal to your brain that Writing Time is about to begin to get into the zone easier and faster. I guess this is a kind of conditioning as well? Meditation, music, lighting a candle… Pick your stimulus and stick with it.

Specifically for rewiring my brain, I started a new WIP that had no emotional connotations attached to it, nor any pressure to get finished or, heaven forbid, meet quality norms. I don’t think these techniques above would have worked as well if I had applied them on writing my novel.

It wasn’t until I could confidently say I enjoyed writing again, that I could start building up a consistent habit. No more pushing myself.

I lowered my definition for success

When I say that nowadays I write every day, that’s literally it. I don’t set out to write 1,000 or 500 or 10 words every day (tried it, failed to keep up with it every time)—the only marker for success when it comes to my streak is to write at least one word, even on the days when my brain goes “naaahhh”. On those days, it suffices to send myself a text with a few keywords or a snippet. It’s not “success on a technicality (derogatory)”, because most of those snippets and ideas get used in actual stories later. And if they don’t, they don’t. It’s still writing. No writing is ever wasted.

A side note on high expectations, imposter syndrome, and perfectionism

Obviously, “Setting a ridiculously low goal” isn’t something I invented. I actually got it from those productivity books, only I never got it to work. I used to tell myself: “It’s okay if I don’t write for an hour, because my goal is to write for 20 minutes and if I happen to keep going for, say, an hour, that’s a bonus.” Right? So I set the goal for 20 minutes, wrote for 35 minutes, and instead of feeling like I exceeded my goal, I felt disappointed because apparently I was still hoping for the bonus scenario to happen. I didn’t know how to set a goal so low and believe it.

I think the trick to making it work this time lies more in the groundwork of training my brain to enjoy writing again than in the fact that my daily goal is ridiculously low. I believe I’m a writer, because I prove it to myself every day. Every success I hit reinforces the idea that I’m a writer. It’s an extra ward against imposter syndrome.

Knowing that I can still come up with a few lines of dialogue on the Really Bad Days—days when I struggle to brush my teeth, the day when I had a panic attack in the supermarket, or the day my kid got hit by a car—teaches me that I can write on the mere Bad-ish Days.

The more I do it, the more I do it

The irony is that setting a ridiculously low goal almost immediately led to writing more and more often. The most difficult step is to start a new habit. After just a few weeks, I noticed that I needed less time and energy to get into the zone. I no longer needed all the strategies I listed above.

Another perk I noticed, was an increased writing speed. After just a few months of writing every day, my average speed went from 600 words per hour to 1,500 wph, regularly exceeding 2,000 wph without any loss of quality.

Talking about quality: I could see myself becoming a better writer with every passing month. Writing better dialogue, interiority, chemistry, humour, descriptions, whatever: they all improved noticeably, and I wasn’t a bad writer to begin with.

The increased speed means I get more done with the same amount of energy spent. I used to write around 2,000-5,000 words per month, some months none at all. Nowadays I effortlessly write 30,000 words per month. I didn’t set out to write more, it’s just a nice perk.

Look, I’m not saying you should write every day if it doesn’t work for you. My point is: the more often you write, the easier it will be.

No pressure

Yes, I’m still working on my novel, but I’m not racing through it. I produce two or three chapters per month, and the rest of my time goes to short stories my brain keeps projecting on the inside of my eyelids when I’m trying to sleep. I might as well write them down, right?

These short stories started out as self-indulgence, and even now that I take them more seriously, they are still just for me. I don’t intend to ever publish them, no-one will ever read them, they can suck if they suck. The unintended consequence was that my short stories are some of my best writing, because there’s no pressure, it’s pure fun.

Does it make sense to spend, say, 90% of my output on stories no-one else will ever read? Wouldn’t it be better to spend all that creative energy and time on my novel? Well, yes. If you find the magic trick, let me know, because I haven’t found it yet. The short stories don’t cannibalize on the novel, because they require different mindsets. If I stopped writing the short stories, I wouldn’t produce more chapters. (I tried. Maybe in the future? Fingers crossed.)

Don’t wait for inspiration to hit

There’s a quote by Picasso: “Inspiration hits, but it has to find you working.” I strongly agree. Writing is not some mystical, muse-y gift, it’s a skill and inspiration does exist, but usually it’s brought on by doing the work. So just get started and inspiration will come to you.

Accountability and community

Having social factors in your toolbox is invaluable. I have an offline writing friend I take long walks with, I host a monthly writing club on Discord, and I have another group on Discord that holds me accountable every day. They all motivate me in different ways and it’s such a nice thing to share my successes with people who truly understand how hard it can be.

The productivity books taught me that if you want to make a big change in your life or attitude, surrounding yourself with people who already embody your ideal or your goal huuuugely helps. The fact that I have these productive people around me who also prioritize writing, makes it easier for me to stick to my own priorities.

Your toolbox

The idea is to have several techniques at your disposal to help you stay consistent. Don’t put all your eggs in one basket by focussing on just one technique. Keep all of them close, and if one stops working or doesn’t inspire you today, pivot and pick another one.

After a while, most “tools” run in the background once they are established. Things like surrounding myself with my writing friends, keeping up with my daily streak, and listening to the album I conditioned myself with don’t require any energy, and they still remain hugely beneficial.

Do you have any other techniques? I’d love to hear about them!

I hope this was useful. Happy writing!

[readwritealldayallnight]

im on my knees begging for jealous Simon headcanons 🧎🏻‍♀️

The thing about Simon is, he really has no reason to get jealous when it comes to you, and he knows it

He knows there isn’t anyone else who could make you smile so much your cheeks hurt, no one else who could make you laugh until you claim you’re going to pee your pants, no one else who could make you feel as good as he does, in oh so many ways, because you tell him so

You tell him that those same feelings of being loved, understood, appreciated, and wanted, those very feelings that you make him feel each and every day, he gives them back to you a thousand times over

He knows when you look in his eyes and tell him that you love him, that there isn’t a doubt in your mind that he is the only one for you, and nothing or anyone could ever change that

You’re as smitten with him as he is with you

Still though, Simon does have eyes

And while the logical part of his brain is telling him that he’s got no reason to be gritting his teeth and clenching his fists underneath the table, he can’t help but grow more and more frustrated with the way Soap and Gaz continue to flirt shamelessly with you

To be fair, you had warned him that keeping your relationship a complete secret from everyone would likely result is moments where Simon would have to watch you get hit on, and simply have to grin and bear it

That didn’t mean it was any easier, watching his only best mates try and work their charm on you, all while he sits at the same table and watches you roll your eyes at their advances

“Aw, come on love, just one chance, s’all I ask for!” The handsome, young sergeant practically whines to you, cheeky grin plastered across his features as he tries in vain to convince you to let him take you out some time

“Pfft, ye’d be nothin’ but a waste o’ her time, Garrick. We wouldn’t even ‘ave to to leave base for me to show ye a good time, bonnie.” The Scotsman winks at you, pointedly ignoring the way Gaz elbows him in the ribs at his comment

Throughout the entire exchange, Ghost’s gaze has never left your face, watching every time you scoff and roll your eyes at the men’s antics, reminding himself that you’re his, and he is yours, and the two sergeants are nothing more than pains in both of your asses

Finished with your pitiful meal from the dining hall, you stand from the table with your tray gathered in your hands, flipping your hair over one shoulder as you look towards the men trying to win your affection

“Once again, gentleman,” you say to them, knowing that they’re listening to your every word and watching your every move. “I don’t fraternize with colleagues. At least not the Sergeants.”

The two men groan in feeble protest at the mention of their ranks, having heard this reasoning from you before

“Ach, what if I get myself demoted, lass? I ken I could do that, easy!” Soap teases you, only kind of joking

“Mmm, don’t think that’ll work.” You reply, beginning to slowly walk away from the group, but not before glancing over you shoulder to lock eyes with Ghost and add, “You might have to become a Lieutenant. Those are more my type.”

The two Sergeants are staring after you, slightly gobsmacked, while their Lieutenant hides an overly smug and satisfied grin beneath his mask, shielding the pride that spread through him at your words

“Shite, sounds like you might ‘ave a chance, LT.” Soap laughs, smacking Ghost across the shoulder in a playful gesture, thinking that the larger man would never actually pursue you, let alone sleep in your bed almost every night

It’s a few weeks later when you and the rest of the 141 are all out for drinks at a nearby pub however, when Simon finds his instincts growing stronger than his insecurities

Because that’s just it isn’t it? He’s not feeling insecure when he sees you walk towards the bar by yourself to order a new drink, at least a dozen pairs of eyes watching you weave through the crowd in hopes of making a move on you

He’s not feeling insecure when he watches some tipsy idiot try and pretend he’s drunker than he really he is when he ‘accidentally’ bumps into you, apparently feeling the need to put his hands on you as he apologizes

He’s not feeling insecure when he watches you shove the guy off, reading your lips he knows so well as you tell the guy you’re not interested, nor is he insecure when he knows the idiot won’t give up that easily, likely asking if you’re here alone before you point over to where the 141 have overtaken a booth in the back

No, he certainly isn’t feeling insecure when he sees that the man never bothers glancing back to the table, still trying to land a hand on your body somewhere, when Simon’s instincts take over, rising from his seat without a word to the men who glance his way and ask where he’s going suddenly

He’s acting on pure instinct as he stalks over to you, the crowd parting for his large frame to move by without hesitation, locking eyes with you just as he lands a massive skull gloved hand on the tosser’s shoulder, wringing him around to face him

Your would be admirer isn’t feeling so confident now when he’s staring up at a 6’4” wall of muscle donned in all black apart from the white markings of his skull balaclava

If he were a more jealous man, Simon might take more time to admire the way you can practically hear this idiot gulp over the loud sounds of the music, the way his eyes bulge out of his head and how he looks nearly ready to piss himself on the spot

But your man knows who he is to you, and so instead he shoves the geezer away, turning to face you as one hand lifts up the bottom of his balaclava, just far enough to swoop down and meet your lips in a passionate tangle of tongue and teeth, tasting the alcohol on each other’s breath and the desire in your systems, a kiss that says to everyone else watching, including the bewildered Captain and Sergeants gawking from across the room, that you are his and his alone

[foldingfittedsheets]

I’ve always been a pretty good liar. As an adult I’ve come to a moral place in which I don’t use that skill set unless it will explicitly benefit someone. But when I was a kid all bets were off.

I think tiny child me was doing their little autistic best but recognized that some situations would be best navigated by lying as telling the truth never netted positive results. Whether it was because my needs often went unmet or ignored, or because I didn’t see any reason not to lie if it would be more favorable, I’m not sure.

This is the story of my proudest lie. The best lie I ever did. A lie that looking back I still go, damn, I was eight.

Our story begins in second grade. I was eight. My school was having a book fair and I spent my small stipend on Gulliver’s Travels. No idea why. Lacking further funds I wandered the fair and came upon the greatest sight known to man. Frog erasers. They were so cute and I was extremely into animals of all kinds.

The whimsy. Who could have known they made erasers in such wonderful shapes? I mourned that I’d spent my money already, and played quietly with the little frogs in their bin. That’s when I was approached by a few other kids from my class.

I didn’t know most of them very well, but enough that it was civil when they asked me, “Are you going to buy those frogs?”

“I’d like to,” I admitted, “but I spent all my money.”

“Why don’t you steal them?”

“I thought about that, but I don’t have pockets.” Indeed, stealing had crossed my mind but it had been a brief temptation. I wasn’t even scandalized that the other girls suggested it.

“Caitlin has pockets,” the leader of the pack said. And indeed, Caitlin in her purple overalls did have pocket space for two frogs. So Caitlin and I became partners. My role in the escapade was just... wanting frogs and walking out with her. We stole two frogs, a yellow and a purple, and united by the misdeed we played together with them at recess despite not really being friendly prior.

After lunch I was called from class to the library. The principal herself was there waiting for me. She had a somber air, almost mournful that she needed to punish me. It was self evident to me that I was here for frog crimes. Caitlin had cracked and taken the fastest route to forgiveness- snitching on an accomplice. Despite the fact that my role was just: wanted frogs, I knew I was going to be in trouble.

Now, I could have told the truth. Pulled a Caitlin and ratted on the girl who told us to steal them. But clearly I’d still be in trouble for having gone along with the morally bereft plan. I was mad at Caitlin for telling but not enough to foist the onus back into her.

“Do you know why you’re here?” The principal asked kindly.

“Is it about the frogs?”

“Yes, Caitlin told us you stole the frogs.”

I quivered my lip and drew myself up indignantly. “I didn’t steal them!”

She blinked at my vehemence but since I looked near tears she carefully asked, “What happened?”

“I really wanted the frogs, but I didn’t have any money. So I asked the librarian if I could take them and bring the money tomorrow! But she was really busy and lots of people were talking to her, and she said yes! But maybe she was saying yes to someone else? And I thought it was to me but Caitlin didn’t, but I was going to bring money tomorrow!”

The principal. Was flummoxed. This was a situation in which I clearly thought I’d done no wrong, in which she couldn’t prove I had done anything wrong, and which the librarian would almost certainly not be able to weigh in. She regarded me not with suspicion but rather vaguely confused as to how to handle me.

I got off with a slight warning that I should pay for things before taking them, despite not having been the one to take things in the first place, and the frogs were confiscated.

I was vaguely worried they’d call my parents but years later when I admitted the story to my mom as an adult she laughed herself sick and said she’d never gotten a call.

[fastandcarlos]

Friends With Benefits : ̗̀➛ Lando Norris

summary: you're so used to playing your games with lando, but when a chance at loves come your way, are you both ready to call it quits?

Your hands rested over your face as you rolled off of Lando, laying beside him, staring up at the ceiling of his plush apartment. Out of the corner of your eye you could see the wide smile on his face, his chest heaving as he tried his best to catch his breath again. 

You reached across and took your phone, scrolling through what you had missed. Your notifications were pretty empty with the exception of one, groaning as you read through the message of a new contact you’d added, feeling guilt smack you in the face. 

The noise you made had Lando glancing across at you, eyes studying you closely. You didn’t look happy after sleeping with him like you usually did, instead, you almost looked as if you were regretting it. 

“Everything good?” Lando asked you, turning to lay on his side, smiling weakly across at you. 

“Yeah, I’m all good,” you replied, your voice faltering. You turned your phone off, promising to make sure that you replied later on, tossing it onto the nightstand beside you. 

As you and Lando laid in silence, your mind was still racing a thousand miles. You couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt that you had, having recently found yourself striking up a close friendship, or so you thought, with someone new, you weren’t sure if Lando was still the one for you anymore. 

After a few minutes, you turned onto your side so that you were facing Lando too, tucking your hand underneath your pillow as Lando’s eyes landed on you too.  

“How long do you see this being your future? Before you settle down?” 

Lando’s shoulders shrugged in reply to you. “I’ve never really thought about it, I don’t exactly see myself settling down anytime soon. I’m just enjoying having fun. You?” 

“I mean, it would be nice to settle down at some point.” 

Lando’s lips pursed together, slightly taken aback by your response. He was sure that you enjoyed spending time with him as much as he did you, but now he wasn’t so sure. 

“What are you trying to say?” 

It had always meant nothing with Lando, and that was the way that you liked it. But now someone else had shown interest, someone who had the potential to be a bit more serious, you needed to weigh up which direction you wanted to take yourself in. 

“Is there someone who makes you want to settle down?” 

“Why’d you ask Lan?” 

“Because you’re different,” he noted, “you wouldn’t usually ask me something like this.” 

Your smile was weak, you were supposed to be happy but with the way that Lando looked at you, you couldn’t be enthusiastic. You were sure you’d shut things down with Lando with ease, but his eyes stared at you with sadness, almost making you feel guilty. 

“I’d never make you do this if you didn’t want to.” 

“I’ve always wanted to do this Lando,” you assured him, “why else do you still think I come every time that you call? I don’t know what it is that I want, I enjoy this, whatever this is but at the same time there’s a guy that I met. We only met a couple of weeks ago, but it just feels different, it’s more a date kind of thing, it’s not all about the sex.” 

“Is he the only guy for you?” Lando asked you, his voice much quieter than it was before. “I mean if you want to settle down, is he the only guy you could see yourself doing it with?” 

Your shoulders shrugged, you simply didn’t have the answer that Lando was looking for. You’d never really thought about Lando before, after all the two of you agreed to cut off any emotions when you agreed to your deal, but now he had your heart asking all sorts of questions. 

“You just told me you didn’t want to settle down,” you sighed, “that kind of tells me that the two of us just want different things moving forwards Lando.” 

“I’d make an exception though.” 

Your eyes flickered up, it didn’t take a genius to know exactly who Lando was talking about, all he knew was that he couldn’t lose you. 

“How can I trust that you really mean that? How do I trust that you’re not just saying that because you’re scared you’re going to lose the person you go to every time you want sex?” 

“Because otherwise I’d just let you go and walk out of that door now.” 

You went to speak, but quickly stopped, your mind foggy with thoughts. It was the easy choice to just go, but you didn’t always want to just take the easy choice in life. 

“I’m not going to force you to stay.” 

Your eyes closed as you tried your best to gather your thoughts. “I don’t know what I want right now Lando, I never thought that you would actually want me to stay.” 

He surprised himself by how much he wanted you there, Lando had never anticipated quite how big of a role you would play in his life, but now he couldn’t imagine his life without you there. 

“I know we would be good together, scrap that, I think we would be absolutely electric together.” 

“It’s not as easy as just sleeping together though Lando.” 

His head nodded, knowing exactly what he was getting himself into entering into a relationship with you, confident though that he could absolutely do it. 

“I know, but that’s all part of the fun figuring it out, right?” 

Lando brought his hand up, brushing it against the side of your face before cupping against your cheek, his touch more delicate than it ever had been before. Your eyes didn’t know where to look as Lando pulled you closer towards him, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. 

“It’s not as easy as this Lan, there’s someone else involved here too. This guy is nice, he makes me feel as if I’m safe, I can’t remember the last time that I actually felt that way.” 

“Who would you want to lose though? Me or him?” 

It was the question that you didn’t want, at the start of the night your mind was made up, but now you found yourself leaning in the complete other direction, a direction you never actually managed yourself going in. 

“Admit it, this has always felt special.” 

“It’s felt special because of what we do, we barely talk Lando, you could probably barely tell me a single fact about myself, could you?” 

“But I want to learn and find out more,” he argued, “I want to know all those little details about you, I want to talk to you about stupid things because that’s what proper couples do.” 

“Do you really mean that Lando?” 

His head nodded in reply straight away. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it. Just give me one chance to show you how serious I am, if I fail, then I’ll let you go.” 

Lando’s eyes looked pleadingly at you, letting go of a shaky breath as your head nodded, trusting that your instincts would serve you well. 

As much as the other guy made you smile, you couldn’t ignore the way that Lando made you feel, the excitement you had racing through your body every time you were in his company. 

“Let’s go out tomorrow, my treat,” Lando suggested, “let me show you how serious I am and we can go on a date, get to know each other properly.” 

“That would be good,” you whispered, “but you know I’ve got high expectations.” 

“Don’t worry, I promise to live up to them.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[lovelyisadora]

still can’t do my papers and can’t even do the bare minimum to get two more incompletes 🙃🙃🙃 I mean I don’t have a choice I’ll have to but oh my god what has happened to me

[mywritersmind]

Can you write some fake dating with lando pretty please🥹

HATE ME - LN4

listen up : no warnings!! hope you enjoy bc i got stuck on this so bad😘 lando x popstar!reader

word count : 1886

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“Y/n!” A reporter yells at me as I walk up the paddock, “Y/n! What are you doing?”

I slow down and laugh a bit, “Looking for my boyfriend!”

“What’s your thoughts with him coming off a win, think he can swing it?” I roll my eyes playfully.

“I certainly think he can! America has been great to him before.” They laugh, knowing I'm not just talking about his win but also myself.

“How about your upcoming album!?” A woman asks, my mood already improving, “Any details you can share?”

I’m about to respond when I feel arms wrap around my waist, “Hi pretty.” He says in my ear but just loud enough to be heard.

I smile and brush my hand against his arm, “Lan!”

He looks up at the reporters, pointing to them, “You lot back off! She’s my good luck charm this weekend!”

We walk away, I glance up to Lando’s face to see him smiling. I can’t help but be surprised for the millionth time, he’s a damn good actor.

The second we get inside, doors shut and nobody around, Lando drops his hands off me. “Hi Pretty.” I mock his accent as he rolls his eyes.

My fake boyfriend strides across the room, grabbing his water bottle. He's in a Mclaren shirt and jeans, his curls perfect and defined.

“You really need to stop swerving my lips when we’re in public.” I plop down on the couch and try to tune him out, it doesn’t work. “People are starting to notice.”

I text my manager back as he complains, “I’ve never shown any PDA with my ex’s. You’re not special, Norris.”

I ignore the way his bicep moves when he pushes off the couch, “Well I have.”

“You don’t think regular couples settle on my side for this? I didn’t think you were thirsting for me that much.”

He scoffs and I know I got him there, “I’m just saying! It’s not normal.”

“Of course you’d think that, all you and your ex’s did was make out in public!” His manager walks in just then before he can respond.

Point, Y/n.

“Will you two keep it down?” He groans, “Just because you argue like an old married couple, doesn’t mean it fits your roles! Lando, it’s media time.”

“Talk about me.” I mumble as he walks out.

“Can I announce our breakup?” He eyes me before shutting the door. I breathe out, just trying to get through this weekend.

⋆｡‧˚⋆

P1 in qualifying, great. I act all happy and actually kiss him this time. I don’t agree with the majority of what he says but even my manager told me I need to do a tiny bit more.

Lando and I’s… agreement, is complicated and completely necessary for our careers. I’m rising to fame and he’s falling in the dumps with all his media scares.

After a mini scandal broke about me, Lando and I met. We were drunk and totally out of depth. He told the paparazzi outside the bar that we were dating and I had kissed him like I believed it.

Everything went up in flames but through the fire our teams decided to come up with this whole fake dating thing. I make him look good, the unproblematic, pretty, popstar. He added an edge to me and brought quite a few new fans.

But most of all, after his lie to the public was splashed over every media surface, the picture of my lips against his, I couldn’t just back out. He would have looked like a player (because he was one) and I would have been labeled a slut.

So now i’m at the paddock every weekend, planning my own shows and sporting him in the crowd. My fans eat it up though, he’s hot, rich and british.

Lando doesn’t listen to his brain before his mouth opens and once when someone asked what he thought about my performance he replied with, “She’s insane and beautiful and way too talented to be my girlfriend.” That sealed it for everyone.

He kisses my cheek, winking. He’s not all bad, even though I can’t really stand him it’s not like he’s disrespectful or rude to me.

Lando gets pulled away for media and I find myself watching his interview with Alexandra, Charles’ girlfriend. We’re not watching our ‘boyfriends’ at all, gossiping about the celebrities that are coming this weekend.

⋆｡˚⋆

LANDOS POV

The reporter is saying things but I’m distracted. My eyes keep wandering past the man in front of me and going to my ‘girlfriend’.

She’s talking to Alex, flipping his hair over her shoulder and grinning. She never smiles like that with me.

I answer another question but it’s half assed and I don’t really care. I watch her jaw move as she talks, how she jumps up and down when she’s talking about something she loves, she crosses her ankles and pinches the bridge of her nose.

I’m suddenly feeling very left out of the conversation and don’t realize the reporter is repeating my name, “Lando?” I rip my eyes away from her a he looks to what I was looking at.

He’s smiling when he turns back to me, “Distracted… Sorry.” I scratch the back of my back, looking down and smiling as the man laughs.

⋆｡‧˚⋆

Y/NS POV

What is he playing at? I’ve been tagged in a million clips of Lando’s interview. The way he looked at me- fuck! He’s so confusing I hate him.

This weekend has felt forever long and it’s not even over. Lando and I go to a little house party, weird for the day before a race but none of the guys seem bothered by it.

In fact, everyone’s having fun. It’s like watching impending doom, knowing they’re all about to mess with each other on the track.

Lando obviously isn’t drinking and since he’s driving, I down a glass with Alex and Lily as soon as I step in the door.

Someone has rented an airbnb and it’s gorgeous. Not too big, but a nice fire in the back and a huge living room.

“I’m gonna go talk to Carlos.” Lando’s hand drifts off me as he walks away. I barely even realized his touch, I'm getting too comfortable with it.

“Girl!” Rebecca, Carlos’ girlfriend, says to me, “I’ve never seen Lando this in love!” The only people who know Lando and I aren’t actually together is Alex, Lily, Alexandra, possibly Charles, Oscar, and Carlos.

Lily and Alex sip their drinks beside me as I blink, pausing for too long. I laugh and smile, “You’re sweet.”

“I’m serious!” She continues, “Those eyes, it’s unmistakable!” Something about it makes me sad. Because Lando doesn’t actually like me at all? Or because whenever I get a glimpse of that look, it’s always in public?

Lily changes the subject with remarkable speed, Alex hands me another drink and I sigh a thank you.

The night goes on, it’s slow and nice to have a simple sort of get together instead of how Lando likes to party.

Speaking of, my fake boyfriend dances up to me as I laugh out of embarrassment, he takes my hand and pulls me outside. I look back to Alexandra who just shrugs and watches me leave.

I smile at Lily who’s sitting on Alex’s lap. I sit next to Lando around the fire, I'm getting tired and a bit tipsy. I rest my head on his shoulder as everyone talks.

I can’t think about why he brought me over here. It’s not like I’m contributing to the conversation in a big way.

“What!? Lily was my idol before I got into F1!” I agree with her, she claims I didn’t like her but I was following her for months!

“You were so intimidating!” She shakes her head.

“You are intimidating.” Lando speaks up as I eye him. Lily’s eyes flicks down to my hand then my face then back to my hand.

I give her a confused look before glancing at my hand, Lando’s fingers are stretched over it, spinning my own ring around my middle finger.

I avoid Lily’s eyes as I look up at Lando, “Excuse me?”

“You are!” he argues, “The first time we met I was scared shitless.” I shake my head and finish my drink, my body warm and buzzing.

Charles and Carlos both laugh as Carlos speaks, “Fuck I remember that! At that club? He had like five shots to hype himself up.”

The firelight shines on Lando’s face as his cheeks go pink, “Worked a bit too well.” I find a small smile on my face. I never knew that.

People slowly start leaving, Alex and Lily leave us outside to help cleanup. His hand leaves mine, I rest my arms under my head, leaning on his chair as he looks down at me.

“Saw you talking to Franco…” He slyly mentions.

“What now, Norris, you jealous?” His jaw ticks.

“Just saying it’s not a good look for my girlfriend to be flirting with someone on the grid. Or anyone at all.”

“Sounds pretty jealous to me!” I hum as he shakes his head, “Gonna win tomorrow?” I ask.

“Maybe.” He shrugs.

“For me?” I am definitely not in my head correctly.

He bites back a smirk, keeping eye contact, “What do I get if I win?”

He's teasing me and I like it far too much, “What do you want?”

I almost miss it. I would have if I didn’t keep eye contact. But something appears on Lando’s face… something familiar and that I thought was fake.

That fucking look.

Except now we’re away from everybody else, I’m the only one who can see his face and it makes me feel sick. He’s got a soft smile on, brushing my hair out of my face, his touch burning me.

I sit up straight, “I hate you.”

“No you don’t.” He smirks, clearly amused.

“You hate me!” I’m confused and angry and that damn smile isn’t helping.

He gives an airy laugh before his smile dims, his tongue running over his teeth before his eyes flick back up to mine, “No I don’t.”

I frown, “You’re supposed to!”

He shakes his head, “Why would I hate you?”

I groan, putting my face in my hands, “Because you’re in this mess because of me! I wrote a song about you.” I see his blink, the pause in his emotion as if he’s trying to figure me out. “And i’m angry! Because I didn’t want this and I didn’t want you!” I vent, “So you can’t like me now because I’ll feel bad!”

He blinks, once, twice, “Okay. I hate you.” He says it with zero emotion.

“For as good an actor as you are… that didn’t sound very convincing.” I pout and he laughs.

“I’m not a good actor, love.” I suddenly feel sobered.

“Hate me, Lando. That would make this a lot easier.” I’m mad at him. I can’t do this with him looking at me like that.

He tilts his head a bit, his jaw moving, a curl perfectly in his face. He says it with ease and a newfound softness in his voice, “How could I ever hate you?”