B's Return and Tribute to Duke | A Day with His Dick (Afterword) · 3:20pm Oct 16th, 2020
There are only so many tropes and concepts and perspectives you can write, within the desired medium, before it all stales a little. One is limited by what they choose not to explore. Being a commission writer forces one to write outside the usual material and, beyond that, to understand the subject well enough to write it well.
And the above is all the fancy excuses I could profess in coming to write some gay ass shit.
In truth the above is not gay. Really it's written from a woman's perspective on liking a guy—and the varied components and aspects that go into that. I couldn't bring myself to write gay works, fully, for two reasons.
One is the lack of empathy and the second is the lack of research.
To write a subject well, one must understand it and, to understand something, you must possess either empathy or information on the matter—and even that information requires heart to be processed.
You 'get' or 'understand' something when, in being said something, you're able to repeat it in different words or, in coming from someone else's perspective, able to what they would think, feel, like or dislike on a matter. You're able to process like them: mentality and all that.
To write some gay stuff, first, I would need to either find or read about a few, how they feel and think about other men, what they find attractive and whatnot. Differences in flirting and all that other stuff. Once you get the social and psychological things out of the way—how romance is like and how it tends to go in the typical relationship—you would have to deal with sex.
And then I would have to read gay porn.
And then I would have to have to read a lot of gay porn in the hopes of doing it well.
I cite the above as an excellent excuse for why this story wasn't written the best. Its low quality may be excused as, for the same reason I have not read gay porn, still, I haven't read a lot of eroticism from a woman's POV. Thus this story is not the best in regards to that.
And that I am brilliant in coming up with excuses on why my shit sucks ass.
Formal crap out of the way. Yes, indeed, I am back. Back writing some gay stuff, which is not quite gay, but, when you think about it: is kinda gay. One of these days I'll write some proper gay stuff for the sake of doing it. But now a moment to be serious.
I think one can only write the same kind of content for so long before they grow tired of it. Writing romance stories from the POV of Spike tends to be the same. Lonely and depressed boy who sees these mares as extraordinary and booming is at least 45% of my fics. Reasons for them being grand and the like.
But what I've found more interesting as of late is to do the reverse. To write it from their POV. It's, for this reason, I enjoy stories like Don't Fall In Love with Your Assistant and Just a Blowjob and the like. It's far more entertaining to hit it from the other side as it's something new.
Of course this feeling has sipped into micro.
One must be willing to follow their wit—no matter where it goes. It's like a strange compulsion that, even though you have no clue where you are going, for whatever reason, the feeling is right and, at the end of the long and curving road, you are sure it will have taken you down the right path.
So this fic came about due to being willing to follow that wit, try a sex fic from a drastically different POV and, more importantly, to honour a bullshit bet I had made with a friend long ago. Stakes are fantastic for they are the violent belief either in yourself or your opinion. Winning or losing, is always fun, as it causes the scene to become loud and excited to become standard.
It had been more than a few months when Dead by Daylight had been expected with the boys. Duke was talking himself up as the killer and we, being cunts, thinking him to be shit, and us the greatest, agreed we could beat him easily.
He proceeded to bring the most broken loadout known to man, against a new player who had no clue how totems worked and, being honour bound, I was forced to write this story. Truth is I would have written him a story, no matter what, for the following reasons.
Duke is a twink and a femboy and probably one of the kindest people you will meet. He is squeaky clean across the metric in areas most have gone crusted and cynical. He's retained his youth, giddiness, and a tad of innocence despite the requestion of frequent gay porn.
More surprisingly.
He is a real one.
I have met many talented and celebrated people in my life and, as our friendship goes on, something comes up, one thing or another, that usually destroys it. People say they have your back though rarely do their actions back it up.
The truth of the matter is one should never feel the need to ask if someone has your back. Rather their actions back it. In always being there, in helping you or giving you shit for something deserved, there is that feeling, a notion rather, that they are there.
That nothing can really break it.
And I have that feeling with Duke. The hardest part about writing about good people is that qualities that make them tend to be consistent but small things. Ultimately I think it's because Duke cares. If I talk about a story I'm writing, it is often ignored by everyone—but he'll ask about it.
If I'm in a VC, alone, as I usually am—he'll hop in, hang for a bit, even if we're both silent.
The truth of the matter is that Duke is a good kid. That despite most of us getting tainted by a certain age to a collection of experiences to the passing of a particular intelligence—he seems unable to become toxic or negative or the like.
Rather it seems impossible.
And I wish I could write more good things about him. But he's just a good lad. He's a real one and he does good things. It's because of how he is that, easily, someone who is a ghost to everyone can be one with him.
I have the strange feeling that I will be gone at 25, and so, in leaving behind these blogs as some collection of my life, I would like to state that Duke was probably one of the best finds that I had in this fandom. Despite all the negative events and toxic people, those who preach themselves as more, of being empathic but instead were judgmental—Duke was none of that.
Most people here—most of the people in the world—feel the need to be or prove something. But Duke is just content. He's an anchor like that. He is just good and does good things and does not need to say more about it. He doesn't need to preach he's an understanding fellow or that he has your back.
Rather he listens and truly listens. He's there when you need him. Those are the actions that prove the qualities without him having to say a word on it. In truth he's probably unaware of all this because he doesn't possess the cynicism to view any of this as anything special.
In all the groups and all the friends and all the people that have come and gone, out of them all, Duke is the only one to consistently remain. He is the punching bag of most of the gatherings and others usually tend to steal the spotlight. Yet once the stage empties, he still tends to stick around while others have left.
I would think in the writers I have grown close to here on this site, of the mentors I kept close to and learned from that, at the end, after those friendships and the like, at the end, it was always Duke at the end of it all. In my life as a writer or as 'B', even in my real life as well, it's always been him that's been the consistent friend.
I suppose I'm a little bit shit in saying what he does and is for me rather than the reverse—but alas I am a selfish person. Despite the learning I've had from those mentors and great timers from those other writers, at the end of it all, it's always been Duke, always willing to talk, always willing to listen and understand that, really, the kid is more of an anchor than I ever expected.
He's just consistently good.
And my biggest failing as a writer will be the inability to produce the works that express my gratitude for it. Out of all those that have come and gone, were tight and now distant, bonds shared now mattering nothing... you were always the one that stuck around.
You were always my consistent friend.
I don't know how much worth such a title has in coming from me.
But I wish you well Duke. Though many of us present ourselves as better due to wit and charm and talent and whatnot—you were always better than us all. Going to school and finding yourself a placement and nailing a job and keeping to doing the right thing. No problems or beef or contrary to anything.
You just live, enjoy, and be content.
And that itself is an anchor to those who appear themselves as more—but truly are nothing underneath it. Without a doubt you will do well in life. I may not know exactly what your path is, though, without a doubt, you possess the qualities to walk well in any course of your choosing.
It's always been my quote to be well to do well.
And you've always done as such—excellently.
~ Yr. Pal, B ~
