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vanillafantasy01 · 1 year

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Lunch Break | Steve Harrington | Male Reader | Lemon

"Your pullout game is weak." - R

"Then you must like being filled if you're still with me >:)" - S

TW: Bottom Male Reader, Gay Smut, Fingering, Hand job, Sub Domination, Reader Gets Turned Into an absolute Fuck Doll [I think...] 🙈 - MDNI

I had a little too much fun with this one y'all, how did I even get to 4k!? 💀🖐🏾 I wanted to make this a little extra kinky by making Steve into a college professor. I hope none of my classmates find out about this. Like I seriously don't know what possessed me to write this LOL

It was mid-break when it happened. Steve had come out of nowhere and latched onto your wrist with such suddenness and force that it had momentarily petrified you, refusing to answer any questions of concern you threw at him. He was actively ignoring you while dragging you to who knows where, and it didn't help that his expression throughout the course was fixed into something severe. It was as if he was mad…annoyed, even.

You're jolted to a stop when Steve abruptly halts ahead of you, seemingly forgetting that you were trailing directly behind him and stopping squarely in front of a… the Janitor's closet? The thickness of his back collides painfully with the tip of your nose as a result, and you grunt in response. Steve doesn't apologize, though. Instead, he opens the door with one swift motion and hastily ushers you into the room before following closely behind himself.

It was dark and musky, the limited source of light penetrating the room's gloom, barely allowing you the necessary rays to make out the general build of it. It was small, and very much so; you and Steve squashed against each other to secure a spot in the room. And as expected, it's filled with brooms and mops of varying sizes and colors.

You're broken out of your thoughts when Steve harshly pins you up against the wall, the unforgiving weight of his body not allowing you any leeway to squirm. A frown still sits upon the frail lips of his face, the ends of his eyes slightly downcast to give off a disapproving look. The room was small, so Steve was practically on top of you to fit in. It made you acutely aware of his overall presence.

He moves his head to rest his chin gently on your shoulder, still frowning as he cradles his jaw into the vulnerable crook of your neck. He stays there for a good minute or two, breathing in and out on your collarbone, and only dares to stop when he gathers the will to speak.

"Sending me nudes during class is too much of a tease, don't you think?"

He licks at the brittle base of your neck while saying this, fondly kissing at and nibbling on your external jugular vein. "Someone could have seen…"

Steve was very possessive when it came to you. A secret he failed dramatically at keeping subtle, despite his best efforts. Leaving countless hickeys on you was his way of laying claim and always being present. The location of his marks would vary on how jealous he was feeling at the moment, more often than not done in random and manageable areas, something you could make do with by simply wearing clothes leaning more towards the baggy and conventional side. Albeit on days he exceptionally felt jealous, they were done in harder-to-cover-up regions, meant to ward off the lingering men that would shamelessly eye fuck you. You would often have to wear turtlenecks when going out because of how frequently he would leave bruises on you, mainly when it came to school. To plainly say he liked marking you would be an understatement with the undivided way he would indulge in it. It was a necessity for him, vamping you. It gave him a sense of undeniable ownership over you.

And truthfully, in a way, he did. The fact that you were cramped into a tight locker on the school ground making out with him and gave little to no fuck was proof. But it wasn't because you were unbothered by the current location and situation you and Steve were in, but rather because it was a losing battle. Steve's pampering was slowly swaying the best out of you, and your desire for submission was beginning to tip the scales, slowly but surely overpowering your morals and standards. Your body was craving him — needed him, and it was starting to fog your reasoning.

Steve parts from your neck to focus on playing with your right helix instead. The sly sensation of his callous left hand snaking beneath your shirt in a slow, tantalizing descent sends sparks running down your spine. He breaches the back of your pants with one swift movement and catches you off guard by cupping the fullness of your ass with such force that it makes your breath hitch. However, he doesn't just stop there, quickly following up on his advance by longingly dry-humping against you. His pants were still on, but even then, you could feel the eager way his dick pulsed against your erection as he continued to grind into you, the receiving pleasure muted from the thin layers of fabric tightly keeping his cock from being out and exposed. But Steve doesn't bat an eye at that. He just wanted to feel you on him—to feel you squirming against his cock. And luckily for him, that is just what you do.

A minute or two passes by with him just desperately rutting against your pelvis and you lewdly pushing back against him to help him attain that euphoric friction he was no doubt chasing. Your bodies were moving on their own, taken over by lust. Everything you did was done subconsciously, and you wanted to tell him to stop. To disclose that someone could walk past and hear what the both of you were doing at any given minute, that you could get into serious trouble for what you were doing, and who you were doing it with— but the tightness of his pants as he forced his bulge against you had you involuntarily rocking your hips back instead, your mouths sealed shut… A losing battle.

"St-steve." You can't help but moan.

Your hands reach to entangle your fingers into his hair, and you pull it hard enough to spur him into action, groaning. Steve temporarily breaks from you and leaves you high to quickly fight with his zipper, the aching throb of his sleuth encouraging his hands to go faster.

And sure enough, this time around, when he presses into you, something objectively bigger, pointier, and warmer pokes into the right side of your abdomen, crushed sorely between the sweaty heat of your pressed bodies when Steve retakes his position against you to capture your lips. He moans and humps the soft cup of your palm when you deftly maneuver your hand in between you to take hold of his dick, proudly smirking when you feel Steve shiver against you at your touch.

"…Please…" His voice breaks. "…I need you."

The raw adrenalin and rage of hormones coursing through you only make it possible for you to manage a meager nod in response, your mind stunted and overwhelmed. You couldn't think — at least, you didn't want to. You only wanted Steve, and you wanted him deep inside of you.

Your prayers are answered when Steve pins you harder against the wall by fully pressing the rest of his weight onto you, using the fact that his left hand was already in your pants to gently prod at your hole with the slender tip of his finger — circling, tapping, and rubbing at it through the thin fabric of your brief. You close your eyes. He was being a tease.

You can't say that to your surprise. Steve has always been hellbent on breaking you to the right amount of desperation, knowing that it would be far easier to make you give in to his whims if your needs were taunted, just one "please" away from being met. He would also bask in the way your face would crumble with utter bliss every time you were finally given what your body yearned for… Him.

The motion of Steve's hand snaking up to grasp at your chin forces your eyes back open, and nothing but the image of a devious smirk and a dangerous pair of promiscuously starved eyes invades your line of sight. He stands there, frozen, unfazed by the desperate way your body uncomfortably twined against him at the sudden lack of action. If it weren't for the eager way his dick throbbed against your stomach, you would have thought him frozen.

But no.

That wasn't it.

Steve was actively refusing to give you any more pleasure. "Steve-"

"No."

"But-"

"Wait."

His voice is stern and quick, coming off as raunchy, and it doesn't take long for your brain to register the sinister way he looks at you. It was as if you were prey — something small and vulnerable caught readily in the sharpened claws of an apex predator… Him.

You knew that look, that bubbling rise of primalness in his eyes. The instinct to dominate whatever was in front of him lurking closely underneath. A look he gave you specifically when something especially vindictive came to mind.

Your thoughts are confirmed when Steve releases his body pressure off you with one sudden movement and takes a step back to lean on the door, his middle finger stuck out and leveled perfectly with his hip, aligned suggestively beside his dick. It mimics the latter in the defiant way it points directly at you, and Steve is quick to stop any confusion. He smirks.

"You want me in you… right?" He taunts, his eyes gleaming with mischief when you nod back at him. "…Then work for it."

It takes you a moment to fully register his demand, your eyes blown semi-wide and fixated on the crooked smirk drawing the bruised red of his lips. You don't move or say anything, and Steve only arches a brow in response. Your brain was telling you that this was all just a game, that Steve would blow his facade and burst out chuckling any minute now, saying sike and that he was only messing with you. Steve doesn't move, not even in the slightest…He was dead serious.

You take the two steps necessary to close the distance between you, trying your best to divert your gaze from him to avoid staring him dead in the eye, not wanting to see the smug expression that was, no doubt, gracing his face at your show of submission. Steve had an ego—and one that helped him considerably when it came time to take the lead as the dominant role in bed; something he took to quite effortlessly, might you add, and has been confident and comfortable with ordering you around in and out of your sex life ever since.

Steve chuckles softly when you come to a stop and finally gather the will to look up at him, his eyes gleaming expectantly for the entire duration of you trying to awkwardly shift yourself around the room to fix yourself in front of his body. Your back was faced toward him with your butt licentiously perked out for access, and Steve bites his lip at the sight of it. He was struggling to keep himself from pouncing on you.

You slowly lower yourself onto him, and your legs quake with such density that they threaten to give out right beneath you. You could practically feel the arrogance rolling off of Steve in waves, his fiery gaze burning into the tender skin of your neck from behind, ablaze from the vulnerable way your body reacted to him. It intensifies more when you unintentionally let a moan slip.

"You're going to have to go faster than that if you don't want somebody to catch us." He taunts, moving from his resting spot on your shoulder to nibble on your right helix.

You remind yourself that you're in a literal closet to refrain from cursing him out of embarrassment, choosing to use the little rational thinking you have left to grit your teeth instead. "…Shut up, Steve…"

Steve grins almost devilishly at your demand, and goosebumps emerge on your skin.

"Should you really be talking like that to someone who has you at their mercy?" He questions, leaning into the curve of your back to rest his chin on your shoulder to whisper into your ear. "I could turn you into a bitch in heat with just the curl of my finger."

Steve carefully caresses your prostate to exaggerate his point, biting your collarbone at the crumble of your expression. You were depriving him of the heavenly satisfaction of hearing you moan by trying to stay quiet, and he was slowly starting to disapprove of that.

He liked it when you were vocal. It was an indirect say to how good he was when it came down to pleasuring you, something he took immense pride in. Steve wanted to hear you moan his name—to see you on your knees, begging him to take charge of you.

But you were too shy when it came to sex for that. At least when you still had your sanity. Steve knew all he had to do to bring out that lewd side of you was to tease your limited patience until you eventually grew frustrated enough to take matters into your own hands. You just needed a proper push. One strong enough to have your guard break and have you moaning his name with no care in the world. You were too occupied mentally with the fact that you were in school, making you tense and dramatically stunting your performance.

Steve pulls his middle finger out of you to clump it with his index and ring fingers before collectively spitting on all three of them, not wanting to risk chafing you. It goes without saying that when he retires to re-penetrate you, the doubling of size stops him from sliding in effortlessly, that blissful pressure on your sphincter increasing. Fuck. It was taking everything within him to stop himself from ravishing you. He wanted to take things slow by steadily easing you into it, not wanting to scare you. But you were making it hard with the uncontrollable way you continued to quiver all cute against him, and his body was starting to get impatient with the lack of attention on his part, his dick throbbing poorly for action.

He takes his frustration out on your neck instead, trailing the thick of it and going down to its base while leaving hickey after hickey on his heated expedition to your collarbone, gently nicking it with his teeth.

"You'll have to stretch yourself out more than that if you ever want to take me." Steve mocks.

And as much as you hated to admit it, he was right. You had barely gotten much down with just his middle finger, more focused on the pleasure it was providing you rather than using it to open yourself up to accommodate Steve.

You steadily ease your body onto the clump of his fingers while trying your best to suppress your moans and gradually allow all three of his digits to pierce the defensive tautness of your hole. Another groan rips its way out of your throat when you feel Steve's fingers buck against your prostate, making him smirk. It was getting more difficult for you to control your urges and moans, your body slowly releasing the tension that had you tense and stuck up in the first place, getting more reckless by the second. Steve enjoyed every second of it— of you.

It wouldn't be long before you would be on your knees begging for him to break you in. Something he thought well deserved of you. Especially after how shamelessly distracting you had been in class, sending him nude after nude and tauntingly smirking at him while sitting and doing suggestive things when his eyes would temporarily catch yours. He would have gotten in trouble for the bulge you provoked if it wasn't for the thick fabric of his jeans.

Steve takes his unoccupied hand to dearly caress your jaw before gently kissing it, only daring to remove his lips when he uses his grip on your chin to bring your head closer to his. His lips find solace on yours with such assertion that it rivals that of a snake coiled to prance. His tongue laps and tangles with yours, the both of your spit intermingling at the ball of your tongues. And as much as he wanted to, Steve didn't take over. Not yet. You weren't ready yet. He plays the field justly, trying to avoid overpowering you with his tongue's movements and striving to keep the power level even.

Steve parts from you with a heated breath, a single strand of spit connecting you as you melt into his embrace, your back still arched and with Steve's fingers enthusiastically exploring the depths of you. It was as if your body was limp and Steve was your support cane, your expression dazed and eyes thoughtlessly crinkled. Your mind was nothing but a complete maze of haze, and it took one look on Steve's part at them for him to know that you were finally ready.

His fingers depart from you with a sickening squelch to find comfort on either side of your hips, still slick. Now nothing was blocking him from being entirely flushed with you, and that meant his dick resting firmly on the plump top of your ass, his tip poking angrily into the arched curve of your back. Steve shudders when you grind back onto him, groans of approval leaving him to run several laps in your ears. His breath gradually ascends into something aggressive, becoming shallower and more inconsistent with each minute he anticipates being in you.

"Can I put it in...?" Steve growls, swallowing, the exposed veins along his body bulging appealingly as his chest heaves. His throat felt dry.

Steve's face was red, and evidently more so, his dick, the thirstful movement of his hands on your body evidence of him not being able to withstand another minute of not being in you. Steve grabs his dick and aligns it perfectly with your hole in one eager movement.

His tip prods your sphincter, his hand on your waist steadily easing you back into him. Steve wanted so desperately to be in you. So badly for the both of you to get lost and revel in the moment—the pleasure. He wanted to fuck you into oblivion. The feeling of your hand reaching in between your twined bodies and wrapping around him encourages a shock-like almost chill to shoot through his legs, and his hips subconsciously jerk forward. "Y/N... Please..."

The tip breaks the protective tightness of your hole with the first supported thrust of Steve's, and he has to plant his head in your neck to ground himself. You were tight; hot, the combination of both turning his brain to mush. It was almost pathetic how easily his body crumbled into submission the second he was within you.

Steve bites your nape when you finish inserting his dick, his toes curling in the confines of his shoes. "Fuck~"

The pleasure was immense—overwhelming with the degree of ecstasy that washed over him like tidal waves, lapping against his skin until they eventually crashed against the rocky shores of his consciousness. With that one slow thrust, everything was lost, and Steve found himself mentally fighting to refrain from reaching his all-time high. He couldn't come. Not after the big game he put up earlier.

He stays there for a minute or two, allowing you and him some time to adjust to the incinerating pleasure your bodies were simultaneously drunk off of. Steve only dares to move when he doesn't feel like one contraction on your part will make him prematurely ejaculate. It tears a trembling moan from you, and Steve uses it as an opportunity to slide both his middle and ring finger in your mouth, playing with your tongue by repetitively pulling and clasping at it, the spit backing up in your throat threatening to choke you ever now and then. Your brain teeters on the edge of going white, braindead—utterly blank from the restrictive breaths Steve's fingers were allowing you. It was already a mess—you were already a mess, and Steve's roaming hands were only making it worse. Steve doesn't stop though, seemingly unaware of this by the lustful way he continued to fuck into you. He was turning you into a sweaty, heated, quivering bitch-in-heat. It didn't help that his unyielding grip on your tongue was starting to make spit trail out from the right side of your mouth and pool at your collarbone.

You're allowed a break to breathe when Steve pulls out his fingers to grab at your waist, his dick still managing to pulse wildly within you despite the prolonged session it had to endure. He was breathing shallower, his pace shifting into something increasingly breathy with each thrust—heavy and inconsistent. His thrust faster, harder, and more erratic, Steve forces moan after moan out of you, his teeth breaking the feeble skin on your neck when he sinks his teeth into your nape.

The lewd sounds you were making were no doubt rebounding the school halls from the lascivious way it echoed the room you were in. If anything, you were practically a stereo on blast for all within range to hear. And at first, it was scary. You didn't want to get caught, not in such a scandalous position. Yet, all the same, you were stirred...exhilarated, almost. As much as the idea of getting caught terrified the living hell out of you, it was arousing you to limits you didn't even know were possible. It was as if the dread of getting caught was an unfaltering flame, the precariousness of your situation infinitely fuelling your lust. You wanted it—carved it, and that made you feel sick.

You're broken out of your thoughts with a harsh groan in your right ear from Steve and him cursing. Your back was still arched, your face tiredly plastered against the closet's wall. You can feel the tedious way Steve's muscles clench and unclench against you: his arms, his legs, his torso... his dick. He was going to cum.

"mm~ Wait- Steve~" You tried to warn, your voice slurred and your words broken. If he didn't stop ramming into you at the specific angle and stimulating your prostate, you were going to come all over the wall.

But Steve doesn't heed your warning, ignoring your plead altogether by brushing you off with another bite to your neck, just hard enough to leave another one of his marks behind. It seems to be the tipping point because not long after, you can feel something warm and slick shooting up into you, Steve groggily moaning in your right ear. He catches his breath by licking the swollen wound on your neck and nibbling on it, not making it long before you follow in his steps and ride a high of your own, coming yourself.

It makes Steve smirk in his resting position against you, his hands leaving your hips to tenderly rub at your arms, "We have 5 minutes until your next class..." Steve kisses you, "But we could skip it if you want to... I can see your legs trembling from here."

You try to retort, but your body is so tired that you can only grumble back at him in response, your mind focusing on one thing.

Steve came in you...

You lean back into him to catch your breath and playfully elbow him in the stomach when you do. "Your pullout game is weak."

But Steve smiles smugly at your attempt to belittle him and sets his chin on your shoulder to hover just off your ear. "Then you must like being filled if you're still with me."

#stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x male reader #male x male #x male reader #male!reader #male reader #stranger things x male reader #stranger things x reader #gay fanfiction #gay #gay reader #lgbtq #im so scared to post this lol #omg!!!

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nicknellie · 3 years

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Anonymous requested: Could I request willex fake dating au, maybe the boys are trying to get Alex a boyfriend and so he asks Willie to fake date him to get the boys off his back or something please!

Anon, I love fake dating AUs, I’m beyond glad that you suggested this. Plus with willex I think fake dating is very in character, especially for Alex. I had a lot of fun writing this one, thank you for your request! I’m sorry it took me so long to get round to writing it, but to make up for it I’ve made it longer than most of my other fics.

A Dream Come True

Alex had to hand it to them – when Luke and Reggie wanted something, they really pushed for it. Normally it would be one of the many things he loved about the two of them. Determination, perseverance, resilience, all good qualities. And when they put their minds towards something useful like booking Julie and the Phantoms a gig or dragging Willie out of the washing machine when he got stuck in it playing hide and seek, they were definitely useful to have around. So usually, Alex loved their pushiness.

He just didn’t like it when it was aimed at him. Even less so when they were trying (for the umpteenth time that month) to get him a boyfriend.

And the worst part was that this time Alex had run out of excuses.

For reasons Alex simply couldn’t fathom, Luke and Reggie had been obsessed with the idea of finding him a boyfriend for some weeks now. Reggie had downloaded several dating apps and entered all of Alex’s information, and every time Alex saw him the first thing Reggie would do was reel off a list of several candidates he’d deemed worthy. Luke, ever the technophobe (or rather just terrible with technology), had taken a more natural approach and spent countless hours wandering the streets of Hollywood for someone who was, in his words, ‘the sort of guy who would make Alex lose his goddamn mind’.

It wasn’t that Alex didn’t appreciate them trying to make him happy – he found it sweet, if a little weird – it was just that he knew nobody they found would ever be right. He knew what he was looking for, he knew what he wanted, and he didn’t think that Luke and Reggie could get it for him.

The first time they had tried to send him on a date Alex had faked a cold and pulled out at the last minute. The second time he had “accidentally” shown up to the wrong location and missed the entire thing. The third time he simply hadn’t gone – instead, he turned off all the lights in his house, locked all the doors and windows, and hid, so when he didn’t show up and Luke and Reggie came over looking for him they assumed he was out. The fourth time and most recent time he had pretended to fall asleep when they told him about it.

Alex wasn’t the most creative of people and he had pretty much exhausted all of his go-to date-dodging tactics. So the fifth time his friends tried to set him up, he completely panicked.

“So I was doing my usual lap of Sunset Boulevard this morning,” Luke said in lieu of a greeting the moment he walked into Julie’s garage. “And Alex, dude, bro, you will not believe the guy I saw.”

“Good morning to you to,” Alex said flatly.

Luke wrinkled his nose like the greeting confused him, but then saw Julie setting up her mic in the corner. A bright smile grew on his face as he was distracted and for a moment Alex thought he might have been lucky enough to get out of the conversation. But a moment later, Reggie entered the studio and also decided that greetings weren’t a necessity.

“Luke! Did you tell Alex about the guy yet?”

Julie snickered (she found the whole thing much funnier than Alex did and he most certainly did not appreciate it) and for a moment more Luke continued to just look at her, absolutely besotted, but then he came to his senses and all of a sudden his excited smile was directed at Alex.

“Right, that. So I ran into him outside the Orpheum, so he’s probably a music guy,” Luke gushed, winking in a way that Alex supposed was meant to be suggestive. “We had a little chat and he told me he’s training as a teacher and is also looking for someone to settle down with.”

“Sometimes I worry about you,” Alex said, laying a gentle hand on Luke’s arm. “You’re getting forgetful. I’m not looking to settle down with anyone.”

Rolling his eyes dramatically, Luke shrugged Alex’s arm off and instead planted his own hands firmly on Alex’s shoulders, shaking him a little. “Maybe not, but that might change when you meet this guy.”

“I doubt it. What’s his name?”

“Oscar. Maybe Oliver. Orville? I don’t know, but it definitely began with an ‘o’.”

“He sounds memorable,” Alex deadpanned. “I’m sure we’ll have a great time together.”

Reggie gasped excitedly. “So you’ll meet up with him then?”

“No,” Alex said firmly.

Julie giggled again (and once again Luke looked at her, dazzled). “Why not, Alex? You sounded so enthusiastic about him!”

“Very funny,” he returned. “I’m not meeting him.”

“Why not?” Luke whined, dragging the words out like a frustrated toddler. “You always do this! Reg and I try to set you up with people but you always say you don’t want to. Are we missing something?”

Alex could see the cogs whirring in Reggie’s mind before his face lit up and he triumphantly guessed, “Or are we missing someone?”

If anyone had asked, Alex wouldn’t have been able to give a reason for what he said next. It was completely untrue, a wild statement made under extreme pressure in the face of an emergency. Perhaps it was a bad decision, but he had run out of excuses to not meet people and he was getting desperate. He hadn’t had time to consider it.

Alex said, “Yes.”

Reggie’s jaw dropped, Julie dropped her microphone, and Luke dropped whatever respect he had left for Alex’s personal boundaries. He launched himself at Alex, tackling him to the floor in what he assumed was supposed to be a hug, and Alex was fairly certain that Luke was crying with happiness.

“Dude!” he shouted (though it was rather muffled since he had his face buried in Alex’s shirt). “That’s awesome news! Reggie and I can stop searching! I didn’t think you’d be able to find someone yourself, bro.”

“Thanks for having so much confidence in me,” Alex said flatly as he extricated himself from Luke’s vice grip and hoisted himself to his feet.

“You’re welcome,” Luke said as he wiped his eyes (yes, he was actually crying happy tears).

Julie had her arms crossed in front of her chest, looking half-puzzled and half-affronted. “You’re seeing someone? And you didn’t tell me? The only one of your friends who is even a little bit good at keeping a secret?”

“Hey,” Reggie interrupted, “I’m good at keeping secrets!”

“Reggie, honey, I love you but at Christmas you told everyone what you’d bought them as soon as you’d bought it.”

Reggie looked like he wanted to defend himself but couldn’t. “I was excited to see everyone’s reactions…”

Rolling her eyes fondly, Julie turned back to Alex. “Anyway – why didn’t you tell me?”

While he was a terrible liar, Alex just so happened to be a very good actor. In high school he’d got the lead role in the school play two years in a row, but whenever someone asked him if he was gay (before he had come out) he would often panic and pretend to faint to get out of the situation. Though he was technically telling a lie here, he decided it would be the prime opportunity to employ some of the improvisational skills he had worked on with Carrie back in their theatre club.

“It was all very new,” he explained, “we weren’t sure if it was going to go anywhere and we didn’t want to tell everyone until we were sure.”

It was only at this point that Alex realised he was digging a very deep hole for himself and it was most certainly too late to climb out of it now.

“When do we get to meet him?” Reggie asked excitedly.

“You already have,” Alex replied.

A little voice in the back of his mind was saying, shut up, you absolute idiot, what the hell are you playing at? Perhaps stupidly, he drowned that voice out.

Looking dumbfounded, Luke clutched Alex’s shoulders again. “We have? Who is it?”

The little voice got louder – don’t say it, Alex, I’m begging you not to say it, it’s like you’re actively trying to ruin your own life, you absolute–

“Willie.”

In eery synchrony, Luke, Julie, and Reggie all looked to each other with identical expressions of shock and bewilderment and then turned back to Alex with furrowed brows.

“Willie?” they all chorused.

Alex pursed his lips and rocked on the balls of his feet, suddenly regretting every decision he’d made that had brought him to this point in his life. “Yep.”

“I thought your thing with him finished like six months ago?” Julie said.

“Well, there wasn’t really much of a thing to finish,” Reggie reasoned, “just Alex’s pining from afar that had lasted for like four years–”

“Yes, thank you, Reginald,” Alex interrupted. It wasn’t that Reggie was wrong, Alex just didn’t like how right he was. “And yeah, it did… I guess. But then we were hanging out together a few months ago and it was really nice and we started doing it more often and eventually he asked me on a date.”

Alex was overly aware that every word he had just said was an utter lie. Firstly, he had never really got over Willie – Willie wasn’t the sort of person you could just forget or move on from, even though Alex had never actually dated him. Secondly, Alex and Willie hadn’t actually hung out together alone in quite a while. Willie had been busy with their blossoming art career, going to different presentations and awards shows, trying to make a name for himself; Alex, on the other hand, had been doing his best to avoid dating anyone. And thirdly, Willie had never once asked Alex on a date.

He knew he should have backtracked, told them the truth, but he was in far too deep.

“This has been going on for a few months?” Luke said incredulously. “How have you kept it from us that long? Dude, you just let Reggie and I spend literally all our free time trying to find you a boyfriend!”

“I never asked you to do that.”

“You could have told us to stop,” Reggie said.

“I did,” Alex returned. “Several times.”

Julie raised her hands placatingly. “Okay, okay. That’s not important right now. What’s important is that Alex and Willie are finally together. Are you sure they’ll be alright with you telling us while he’s not here?”

Alex shrugged, trying to act like he wasn’t too sure (which was easy because he’d never been less sure of anything at any time in his life). “Umm… well… we haven’t really talked about it much, but… you know, I’m sure he won’t mind too much. I’ll tell them tonight.”

Julie smiled warmly. “Well, I’m happy for you in any case. It’s nice that you’ve finally got what you wanted for so long.”

“Amen to that,” Luke said, finally picking up his guitar. Alex had all but forgotten they were supposed to be practising instead of talking about his very fake relationship with Willie which Willie didn’t even know about. “And Reg and I can finally stop looking for someone.”

“Could’ve stopped before you’d even started,” Alex said, sitting down behind his drumkit, “but alright.”

He knew that sooner or later he would have to tell Willie what he’d done and he was absolutely dreading it. Willie was a very chill person and Alex knew they’d probably find it funny more than anything, but it was still a daunting prospect. But for now, he focused himself on his drums, hammering out all of that excess anxiety, and forgetting the absolute nightmare he’d created for himself just for a little bit.

It was nearing one o’clock in the morning and Alex was very much not ready to go to sleep. For one thing, he was still wearing his clothes instead of pyjamas, and for another he was pacing his room like a caged lion with anxiety and had been doing so for almost three hours. He was trying to build up the courage to call Willie and let him know what had gone on, but he was so nervous that he wasn’t sure he’d even be able to string a sentence together if Willie picked up the phone.

He knew he would just have to bite the bullet. He couldn’t put it off forever or it would end in disaster. For the thousandth time he reminded himself that Willie was the kindest, funniest, most good-natured person he knew and that he had nothing to be scared of when it came to telling them that he had made a massive, probably damning mistake. Willie would be fine with it, Alex knew.

Before he could dwell on it a second longer, Alex dialled Willie’s number and let it ring.

It only rang twice before Willie picked up. Even though it was late, Alex had known Willie would pick up (the guy hardly slept at all) and he fought the urge to tell him to go to bed.

“Morning,” Willie said chirpily.

Alex checked the time and blinked in surprise; he hadn’t realise how long he’d been pacing for.

“Yeah, I guess it is,” he said. “How come you’re still awake?”

“Mario Kart,” they replied. Alex could practically hear Willie’s smile – suddenly there were butterflies in his already anxious stomach and they certainly weren’t helping. “Why are you still awake? I thought your bedtime was half nine.”

“It hasn’t been in two years and you know that,” Alex said. Willie giggled brightly which teased a smile out of Alex. “I, uh… I actually need to talk to you about something that happened today.”

Just get on with it, he told himself, don’t drag it out.

“Oh?” Willie said. “What is it? You sound nervous – do you need me to come over?”

“No,” Alex told him, “it’s late – or maybe early. Either way, you don’t need to come all the way to my place just so I can tell you this.”

“It sounds serious.”

“It might be,” Alex admitted. “It depends on how you take it.”

There was a brief silence on the other end and for a moment Alex wondered if Willie had decided to end the conversation, but then they said, “Alright, let me just pause the game.”

Another short pause as Willie stopped mid-race. Alex took the opportunity to collect himself, shake out his nerves. It would be fine. Willie would be fine with it.

“Okay,” he said a moment later. “I’m back. What’s going on, hotdog?”

Alex scratched awkwardly at the back of his neck, suddenly unsure where to start.

“Okay,” he began uncertainly. “Well… Luke and Reg have been trying to set me up with someone for a while now and I’ve been trying to avoid it as much as I can. I’ve sort of run out of excuses and you know how difficult it is for me to say no to them.”

Willie hummed knowingly. “Like with the Great Cactus Robbery of 2019.”

Alex winced at the memory – he hadn’t realised cactus spikes hurt quite that much, but he’d gone through with a lot that night for Luke and Reggie’s sake.

“Don’t remind me,” he said witheringly. “Anyway, you know what I’m talking about then. They told me about another guy earlier today and I really needed another excuse to give them. I tried just point-blank telling them no, but then they started asking questions and…”

“And?” Willie prompted.

“I told them I was seeing someone,” Alex said. There was silence on the other end. “I told them I was seeing you.”

After a moment or two (that felt like an eternity) Willie burst out laughing. Alex sighed, affronted, but he supposed it was one of the better reactions he could have got. At least Willie wasn’t angry at him.

“Why?” Willie wheezed between laughs. “Was that seriously the first thing that came to your mind?”

“Yes,” Alex grumbled. “I was under a lot of pressure. You were the obvious choice.”

They giggled happily and Alex realised just how true those words had been – whether he liked it or not, Willie would always be the obvious choice for him.

“Well, I’m flattered,” they told him, blatantly trying to contain their giggles. “Thank you for thinking of me, hotdog.”

“You’re welcome,” Alex said. “But I’m sorry about it too. I’ve created an absolute mess and dragged you into it, so I understand if you’re angry at me.”

“Does it sound like I’m angry at you?”

“No?”

“That’s because I’m not,” Willie said kindly. “I get it, man, you just panicked. No big deal. Besides, we can ride this out easily.”

Alex blinked. “We can?”

“Sure, man, it’ll be fun. We’ll pretend to date for a few weeks, have a friendly breakup, and then everything can go back to normal.”

“You’re sure?” Alex checked. This hadn’t been what he was expecting – he’d thought Willie would say it didn’t matter but he needed to come clean. He hadn’t been expecting the offer of dating.

Fake dating, said that irritating little voice in his head. It’s not real. Don’t let yourself forget that.

“Of course I’m sure,” they said. “I mean, it’s totally cool if you don’t want to, but surely it’ll be easier than backtracking completely with the others. And it’ll get Reggie and Luke off your back for a little while longer.”

He considered it, weighing up the pros and cons. On one hand, he’d get to date Willie at last, something he’d wanted to do since he met him. It would give them more of a chance to hang out together, Luke and Reggie would stop pestering him, and it was always fun to harmlessly mess with his friends. On the other hand, he wasn’t sure his sentimental little heart could stand getting to date Willie and then having him taken away even if that was the arrangement from the very start.

But it was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

“Alright,” he said resolutely. “I’m in.”

“Cool,” Willie returned happily. “Shall we meet tomorrow to discuss, you know, like, boundaries and stuff like that?”

“Sounds great. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He heard Willie press play on his game, the unmistakable sound of an item box being broken on Mario Kart.

“See you tomorrow, Alex,” Willie said. “Or maybe now we’re dating I should be calling you ‘babe’ or something.”

If that made Alex’s heart flutter, he wouldn’t say anything about it. “We’ll go over pet names tomorrow. Goodnight, Willie.”

“Goodnight, babe.”

As Alex put his phone down and launched himself into bed (still fully clothed but suddenly far too tired to even consider getting changed) he thought to himself that there probably couldn’t have been a better outcome.

Alex had expected the meeting with Willie to feel awkward and weirdly formal, but it was completely the opposite. Both of them were in high spirits the whole time, jokingly holding hands and making heart eyes at each other, laughing every time one of them used a particularly ridiculous pet name for the other. (When Alex had called Willie ‘sugarpoops’ he had thought they might die from laughing.)

But the meeting was productive too. They set some effective boundaries – any touching was allowed, just not too intimate; kissing was fine, but only to prove a point; and just for the fun of it they agreed they had to act like the most sickeningly in-love couple the world had ever known. Alex didn’t really care if that would give the whole thing away, it seemed like a bit of fun and it would be useful when it came to reminding himself that none of this was actually real.

That bit, he had to admit, still stung.

He and Willie had arranged to meet Luke, Reggie, and Julie at the studio that afternoon, so spent the day together beforehand. Just to try and get into the swing of things, they treated their morning together as a mini date. Alex took Willie to minigolf, then they went to an ice cream parlour, and after that Willie tried to teach Alex how to skateboard for fifteen minutes before Alex got too nervous and gave up. It was fun and Alex tried not to think about the fact that this was the reality he was missing out on – if he imagined he was just hanging out with Willie as a friend, which in a way he was, then it was just about bearable.

They arrived outside the studio together and they could hear the other band members’ voices already inside. Alex’s stomach started squirming nervously which he thought was weird. He didn’t actually have anything to be nervous about – he and Willie weren’t really dating.

But still, he was starting to feel a little bit queasy and was seriously considering just running away.

Then he felt Willie’s hand slip into his and their fingers lace together. He looked down at them and saw that he had a kind, soft smile on his face, gently encouraging.

“Ready to be my boyfriend, sweetheart?” Willie asked teasingly.

The nerves didn’t disappear, but Alex found it a lot easier to ignore them after that.

“Always,” he said. “Let’s do this.”

Without another moment’s hesitation, Alex pushed open the studio door and led Willie inside. Julie, Luke, and Reggie all hushed immediately and looked at the couple like they’d been caught red-handed. If their guilty expressions were anything to go by, they had been talking about Alex and Willie before they had walked in. He could only guess as to what they had been saying, but at that point Alex hardly thought it mattered.

It was showtime.

“Hey guys,” he said, grinning broadly. “What are you talking about?”

The three all responded at the same time but with wildly different answers.

“That gig next week,” blurted Luke.

“I lost my favourite hairclip,” Julie explained.

“I’m thinking of buying a horse,” Reggie told them.

Alex and Willie looked at each other, trying to hide their amusement.

“Anyway,” Julie said, “doesn’t matter what we were talking about! Because you’re here now, both of you! And you’re dating!”

Without warning, Willie giggled brightly and attached himself to Alex like a koala to a tree. Alex laughed and threw his arms around Willie, holding them tightly, pressing a firm kiss to the top of their head.

“I feels so good to finally have it out in the open,” Willie gushed, gazing at Alex with pure adoration in his eyes. “Right, sugarplum?”

Alex gently rubbed the tip of his nose against Willie’s, fighting the urge to laugh. “Of course, my little cheesecake.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Alex could see his friends’ expressions – he had to close his eyes so he wouldn’t be able to see them, otherwise he definitely would have broken character and started laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe. Luke looked utterly horrified, like the display of affection was disgusting; Julie was staring at the two of them wide-eyed, her face flushed red, looking like she would rather be anywhere else; and Reggie just looked baffled.

After a while, Julie cleared her throat and the couple turned to look at her innocently.

“So,” she said, “we’ve heard Alex’s version of the story, but Willie – how did… all this happen?”

Willie linked his arm through Alex’s marched the two of them over to the couch and sat Alex down, then sat primly on his lap, laying their head against Alex’s shoulder. “I’m so glad you asked.”

“I’m not,” Luke muttered, “this is weird.”

Julie kicked his shin and he shut his mouth.

“I had been watching Alex from afar ever since we met, but I didn’t think a cool, handsome drummer could ever care about someone like me. I was convinced we would only ever be friends. But then we hung out together and I saw all these different sides to his personality – he’s so caring and soft, you know, and he means everything he says. Alex isn’t like anyone I’ve ever met. So I decided to just go for it, ask him out, admit how I feel.”

Alex stroked a hand through Willie’s hair, eyes fixed on him. “Since then we’ve never looked back. And we never will.”

“Oh, my darling!” Willie exclaimed, throwing themself at Alex and pressing a kiss to his lips.

It certainly wasn’t how Alex had envisioned his first kiss with Willie going (and he had envisioned a great many different versions of it) but in a strange way it felt just right. Sure, they weren’t dating, but they were hanging out together, having fun, being in each other’s company and loving every second of it. Maybe the circumstances weren’t exactly what Alex wanted, but the love they held for one another was still there, nothing could take that away.

So maybe it wasn’t the best decision he’d ever made, but Alex let himself get lost in the kiss. He didn’t know how many times he’d get to do this in his life, so he figured it was better to make the most of it. He blocked out the fact that his friends were right there (a sure sign that he wasn’t thinking straight – absently he knew that he would be very embarrassed by this when it was all over) and just focused on Willie.

And he was sure he wasn’t imagining the fact that Willie seemed to be enjoying it just as much.

When Julie eventually cleared her throat again, they separated. But Alex couldn’t take his eyes off Willie. He knew he wasn’t imagining what he’d felt in that kiss – like sparks had flown between them, forcing their dynamic into something much more than friendly banter and an inside joke. Willie’s eyes were glassy and he was breathing heavily, scanning Alex’s face for something, though Alex didn’t know what. All he knew was that the kiss had pushed the boundaries they had spent all morning setting and if he wasn’t more careful he would lose himself to this silly little charade.

The five of them spent the rest of the afternoon and evening just talking to each other. Willie stayed firmly planted in Alex’s lap and they both used the occasional cutesy nickname for each other, but it seemed as if both of them had silently made the decision to tone things down a little bit. Luke seemed relieved about it at least – for all the heart eyes he made at Julie he certainly seemed uncomfortable at the affection Alex and Willie had shown. It was probably because Alex hardly ever showed love like that in front of people.

But god, he wanted to do it all again.

Luckily, it didn’t seem like any of their friends suspected Alex and Willie of lying to them. By the time they were all on their way home – Alex and Willie walking away hand in hand – nobody had brought up the fact that it could all be fake.

“That went well,” Willie said as they walked along the seafront, heading back to his place. The cold night breeze lifted their hair and Alex couldn’t keep his eyes off them, not when they were looking so beautiful.

“Yeah,” he said, watching the way the amber glow of the streetlamps danced in Willie’s eyes. “It did.”

“Have you thought about how long we’re going to do this for?” Willie asked. Alex was sure he heard nervousness in Willie’s tone, maybe mingled with hope.

He shrugged. “A few weeks maybe. Unless you had something else in mind.”

“No, no, that’s fine, man.” They had arrived at Willie’s apartment building and stopped just outside of it. “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Yeah,” Alex said, smiling smally. “See you tomorrow.”

He didn’t know what he was thinking – he had expected a goodnight kiss from Willie, but instead he was left alone in the cold as Willie let go of his hand and hurried into the building. Alex was suddenly reminded again that it was all fake, that he shouldn’t have expected kisses when they were alone.

It hurt though. He knew that kiss earlier had been more than just top-notch acting.

He fell asleep that night, still thinking about it, the memory replaying on a loop in his mind. In one way or another, Willie was going to drive him crazy.

The next two weeks flew by. Alex found himself hanging out just with Willie more and more often, playing Mario Kart together at Willie’s insistence, going on more dates that weren’t actually dates, or even just video-chatting each other while doing their own separate things to enjoy the company.

After that first day as a “couple”, Alex was sure Willie’s confidence had been knocked. For the next few days they withdrew himself from Alex and Alex didn’t know if he’d done something wrong or if it was just something on Willie’s mind. Still, he let Willie work through it, and a few days later he was back to normal, clinging to Alex like a barnacle to a ship, calling him every pet name under the sun.

And still their friends were none the wiser.

The end of their time as a couple came all too quickly. Alex walked Willie back to his apartment again, a heaviness in his heart. He didn’t know how an actual breakup felt, but he was willing to bet that a breakup would be less painful than whatever this was. No part of him wanted to give this up, whatever silly little thing was going on between him and Willie – it was fun, it was freeing, it gave Alex a light feeling in his chest and made him so happy he thought he might burst at any moment. He didn’t want to give any of it up.

But still he walked Willie to his door.

They stood facing each other, hands interlinked between them, sad smiles on each of their faces. Alex tried to memorise every detail on Willie’s face as if it was the last time he would see them.

“This has been fun,” he said eventually, his voice low, quiet in the night air.

“You can say that again,” Willie agreed. “I loved being your boyfriend.”

“I loved being your boyfriend.”

Something flickered in Willie’s eyes, an expression gone too quickly for Alex to name, but it was quickly forgotten because a moment later Willie stood up on his tiptoes and kissed Alex.

It wasn’t like any of the other kisses they had shared in the past few weeks. There was nothing over-the-top and exaggerated about it, it wasn’t just a stunt they pulled to fool their friends. It was slow and soft and Alex felt the rest of his body go fuzzy and numb as all he could concentrate on was Willie’s lips on his.

An eternity later, Willie pulled away, his eyes scanning Alex’s face.

Alex swallowed heavily and said, “I thought we could only kiss each other to prove a point.”

Willie nodded. “Did I not get my point across very well? Do I need to kiss you again?”

Alex almost laughed but something stopped him. “Just… just explain it to me first. So I don’t get the wrong idea.”

“I loved being your boyfriend,” Willie said. “You enjoyed being my boyfriend. So… why should we stop?”

Alex felt his head spin. Somehow the nightmare he’d created for himself all those weeks ago was turning into a dream come true.

“You mean that?” he asked. “Tell me you mean that, Willie, please.”

“I mean it,” Willie said resolutely. “I’ve felt this way about you for too long just to let it go. If you want me then I want you. I want to date you, Alex. For real.”

Alex kissed him again, short but sweet.

“Is that a yes?” Willie asked, giggling.

“There’s no other answer I could have ever given.”

Even though they remained boyfriends (real ones this time), Alex and Willie decided to drop the over-the-top, lovey-dovey stuff. It was fun, but it wasn’t them. Instead, they chose to fill every second together with quiet declarations of love, casual dates, soft kisses, nothing that wasn’t real.

But they never did tell Luke, Reggie, and Julie how much of it had been fake.

Taglist (if you want to be added or removed just let me know): @ace-bookworm @williexmercer @boggie-brainrot @itstiger720 @the-reckless-and-the-brave @that-one-newsie @bluedarkness @lookingthroughmirrors @tmp-jatp @salty-star @julieandthequeers @lmaohuh @sunnysbright @sylphrenas @callmeontheleyline

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ineloqueent · 4 years

Text

Starstruck: Part 17

Brian May x Fem!Reader

This is Part 17 of a multi-part fic. Click the links below to read the Masterpost, the previous part, or the next part of the fic :)

Masterpost / Part 16 / Part 18

Summary: When studying at Imperial College in the 1970s, your path is crossed by a beautiful boy as much in love with the stars as you.

Warnings: swearing, sentiments of sadness

Historical Inaccuracies:

SO. This is more of a disclaimer than an inaccuracy. But it’s very important...

I have written Mary’s character on basis of Lucy Boynton’s portrayal of her in Bohemian Rhapsody. I make no assumptions concerning the relationship between Freddie and Mary, and nor do I condone the things Mary has done in the wake of Freddie’s passing.

Please remember that this is but a fictionalisation. But anyway. I’m not here to talk about that; I’m here to write fanfic. Let’s go!

Word Count: 2.6k (can i get three cheers for the shortest chapter ever)

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

You found her soon enough. She hadn’t even made it fully up the stairs.

A pitiful sight, she was, sitting with her knees pulled up as she wept quietly into the velvet of her trousers.

“Mary,” you began gently, and she lifted her head.

Her eyes were puffy, and tears had drawn angry red lines down her round cheeks. Her hair, which had previously been up, fell about her face in blonde wisps as her lower lip trembled and her eyes filled anew with tears.

You made your way over to the corner where she sat and she watched you raptly, like a frightened animal. You knelt beside her.

“Hey, what was that all about?”

Mary only shook her head, blinking rapidly in an attempt to stem her tears.

You offered her a hand up, and after a few moments of contemplation, she took it and stood.

She stared at you a moment before rivulets came running down her face again.

“Come on,” you said. “Let’s get some air.”

You led her up the final stairs and pulled open the door at the landing, guiding her outside onto the rooftop terrace.

The night air was cool, and from the heated rush of emotions that still seemed to cloud your mind to the giddiness that still occupied your stomach, the breeze on the roof was one you welcomed.

Mary seemed to relish the sudden cold as well, going as far as to lean out over the railing and close her eyes in the onslaught of the wind.

Thinking that you should probably not allow her to do any leaning given the mental state she was presently in, you came to stand by her side.

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

Anger flashed across her face, and she wiped her eyes with a frustrated air, only more infuriated by the fact that she was crying.

You were about to assure her that she needn’t say anything at all when she blurted,

“I found Freddie with another man.”

“Oh,” you said. You pressed your lips together, trying to gauge how it was you were to handle this.

“I just can’t believe that he’d lie to me.”

You were reminded of Deacy’s comment about Freddie being ‘nearly pathological’ with respect to lying, but that was hardly helpful right now, and you could only imagine the crushing betrayal Mary must have felt.

“I can believe that he would lie,” she elaborated, fingers curling around the railing, “but not to me. I just— oh, I suppose I thought I was different.” She gave a shudder. “I’d had the feeling that something wasn’t quite right, and I tried to talk to him, tried to tell him that he could tell me anything, and that even if I was mad about whatever it was when he told me, I wouldn’t stay that way.”

Mary turned to you, and the wind tossed her hair wildly, and with the way her eyes still ran with saltwater, she seemed a maiden from some sort of Greek tragedy.

“I love him,” she went on. “But I’ve always felt that I loved him more than he loved me. Now I understand why.”

She slumped to the ground again, her expression dark. “I’m not even angry that he didn’t come out to me. I understand that, because how the hell do you begin to tell your fiance that you want to break of the wedding because you’re gay?

“Freddie’s got this kindness, and sometimes, it’s like he’d lie to a court if it meant that he spared the feelings of those he loves. So I guess, in a way, he does love me. I only wish he’d have tried to break it off with me, instead of waiting until I walked in on him.”

She sighed, and you sat down across from her, folding your legs beneath you.

“So, what now?” you asked, because it seemed that Mary had thought a lot about this already.

But she dropped her head to her hands. “That’s the one thing I can’t work out. Where do I go from here?”

“Have you talked to Freddie, properly?”

She shook her head. “It’s going to take me a long time to forgive him. I just hope he knows why I’m angry, and that it’s not because he’s gay.”

There. That was it. That was where she had to go. “Maybe you should tell him that.”

Mary looked at you, her face wrought in scars of mascara and eyeliner. She lifted her chin and nodded. “You’re right.” She chewed her lip a moment. “But not tonight. I don’t think I can do that.”

You nodded in understanding, because with the way sobs had wracked her body, there would be no energy left for her to have a conversation with Freddie without it dissolving into a bitter argument, even with good intentions at heart.

“Y/N, would it be okay if I stayed in your room for the night?”

“So long as you promise me you’ll talk to Freddie tomorrow,” you said. “Don’t leave him wondering.”

“Yeah.”

You stood. “Let’s just go, then. It’s past midnight anyway.”

Later, when Mary was sound asleep on one of the beds, bundled in the various extra blankets you’d scavenged from cupboards, you lay with your eyes wide open. You’d been kept awake by the sounds of the dwindling party upstairs, which had carried on for long after the scene had been abandoned by its host.

You wondered where Freddie had got to.

And where Brian had.

You’d considered going to find him many times, and had even gone so far as to stick your feet out of bed and set them on the cold hardwood floor, but in the end, you’d made up your mind to do what you always did: nothing.

He’d left you standing in the dance hall, without so much as recognition in his eyes for evidence of having kissed you. And now he was going to tell you that he’d meant nothing of it, a rush of emotions in an exhilarated situation, and you couldn’t bear to hear that.

You’d rather be left wondering than have such a finality imposed upon your mind.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

It had been days, now. They’d been tiptoeing around each other for days.

It was ridiculous to the point where I began to feel the need to take matters into my own hands.

The situation was now ultimately worse than it had been before, because very obviously, something had changed. And I’d wager that something had happened on the first night of tour. They were different now, almost shyer, more fragile in their vulnerability to each other’s charms.

He had pined for her since the late sixties, she had been oblivious since day one, and I doubted that, despite their respectively vast vocabularies, either of them knew the meaning of the verb ‘to converse’. It was all longing looks and unuttered promises, a brush of a hand and staring pensively when the other was unawares.

I was almost offended that they couldn’t pull themselves together, when they were fortunate enough to have each other.

Veronica and Robert would get farther and farther from me as each day of tour escorted us more remotely from London. It hadn’t been an option to bring my wife and our tiny child with us on tour, so I could do nothing now but miss them.

But our two resident idiots, Y/N and Brian, did have each other. And they took it completely for granted.

The open road was quiet and dark, and seemed half-asleep, the trees that blurred past the window swaying to some secret song. A flock of birds streamlined the puffy clouds overhead as the moon greeted the sun in its eternal celestial shift, light yielding light to comfort the earthly beings who feared the darkness. Though I did not fear the dark as such, it was easy to imagine lurking figures between the lone houses by the roads, creeping souls amongst the woods by the road; there was something consuming about this early-morning quiet.

On a stop between Bristol and Cardiff, I left the loos to find Freddie smoking by a payphone, notably absent from the rest of our entourage.

The morning air was chilly, and I wound the scarf around my neck in its second loop, buttoning up my jacket with a shiver. No one was out here other than out of necessity, so I made my way over to Freddie and leaned against the wall beside him.

I turned to face him. “How are you?”

Freddie pursed his lips, tapping ash from his cigarette. “Not at my most fabulous, dear.”

I nodded understandingly, burying my face further into the scarf. “It’s okay, you know. You can’t always be.”

“But that’s why I became Freddie Mercury,” he said quietly, his words nearly carried away by the wind. “I became a legend so I wouldn’t feel like this.”

“Freddie,” I began, “I’m pretty sure being legendary means you have a lot more to feel than you would otherwise.”

He smiled a thin-lipped smile, tossing his spent cigarette into the ashtray mounted atop the rubbish bin. “You are of course right, darling, but right now I’d give anything to feel nothing at all.”

“You don’t mean that.”

Freddie sighed. “I don’t know what I want.”

It was despair in his voice; I recognised it. And I understood it. Because where do you start if you don’t know what you’re working toward?

I placed a hand on his shoulder and he turned his sad brown eyes on me.

“You’re a legend, Freddie,” I reminded him. “You’ve got forever to figure it out, okay?”

He nodded.

“And you can talk to me if you need to.”

“Thank you, Deacy,” he patted my hand. “I think I’ll keep a bit to myself for a while, though, at least until we reach the city.”

“Okay.”

“Now, let’s get out of this cold. I’m freezing my tits off!”

I laughed. “Okay, Freddie.”

And though the open road was quiet and dark and I missed my wife and son, I had my friends. The second half of my family.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

You ached to kiss Brian again. To wind your fingers through his hair. To hold him close, because with the worry that wove itself through his brow on behalf of Freddie, he looked so lost, so far away, as though he needed someone to bring his floating self to the ground where his thoughts could wander amongst the living, and not dwell up in the sky with that which he had lost.

Perhaps that was why he looked to the stars so often; he’d lost so much, and they were a constant.

He deserved to have something brought back to him. And if you could return to him some of the light in his eyes instead of stealing it away, then nothing in the world would make you happier.

The mornings on the bus were tense, to say the least.

Without discussion, it seemed that you and Brian had established an agreement to keep Mary and Freddie apart until they had the time and privacy in which to talk. But it was a difficult arrangement, given that the tour bus was not exactly spacious. And given that it meant you had to keep your distance from Brian.

Presently, though, you came second to the efforts of protecting Freddie and Mary from themselves, which meant that Brian did as well. So for now, all you could give to him were silent glances and small smiles.

But Brian seemed to have other ideas.

On the leg from Cardiff to Taunton, just as you were getting back on the bus, someone grabbed your hand and pulled you around the corner.

You tensed, whirling around with your other fist raised, your heart hammering.

But your defenses were instantly disarmed, because there was Brian with his mass of curls in disarray from the wind, his lips parted as though he had been about to say something.

“Are you trying to kill me?!” you cried, your heartbeat still in your throat.

“No,” Brian said, “I’m trying to kiss you.”

“You’re—”

He pulled you to him, melding himself against you, and kissed you soundly on the mouth, his arms winding around you. Your response was immediate, and you leaned so far into him that he stumbled. His laughter tickled your lips, a rush of breath over your skin as he clutched you to stop you from falling with him.

But you pushed him against the wall instead, and his hands rose to your cheeks to kiss you more deeply, devouring— senseless. Precisely as you had once wished for him to kiss you.

There were so many things you wanted to say, but it seemed the most of them were covered in how you moved with him, vulnerable and uninhibited, purely driven by the desire to hold him close, to make him understand with your proximity how much it was you cared for him. How much you would never be able to explain the gravity of your affections for him.

Brian reversed your positions and only the existence of the wall and his arms kept you on your feet; you were dizzy with the surge of excitement that withered you where he touched you.

And his touch was everywhere.

His lips moved from your mouth to your jaw, from your jaw to your cheek, to the shell of your ear, and then in a tender trail down your neck. His fingertips fluttered at your sides, warm on your skin, but you shivered, because no one had ever touched you with such a gentleness as this, such desire, such love.

Then abruptly, he pulled back, short of breath and flushed from head to toe, with swollen lips and loose curls sticking up where your fingers had interfered with their natural fall.

The world spun as his eyes flickered between yours.

“I’m sorry if I scared you,” he hummed.

“You did a bit,” you replied. “We’re on the open road. It is sort of scary out here.”

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I just missed you. I miss you. I feel like we’re apart, you know?”

You nodded mutely.

He asked softly, “We’re not keeping this a secret, are we?”

You couldn’t believe that he was asking, after everything. But you supposed that was how he was, considerate to the point where he doubted himself if the circumstances favoured you.

“Brian,” you said, “I don’t think I could hide the way I look at you if I wanted to.”

A smile flickered across his face.

Then the rain began to pour.

“Come on, back inside,” you said, taking him by the hand.

“Hang on,” he pulled you back. He lingered a moment, gazing at you aimlessly, and he looked at you the way he looked at the stars.

“What?”

Brian cradled your face in his hands. Then he pressed a gentle kiss to your nose, brushed the pad of his thumb over your skin. “I just wanted to look at you.”

You couldn’t help but smile.

“My evening star,” he murmured.

You shook your head, finding it very hard to believe that this man, who spoke so beautifully, was yours. “You’re a poet, Brian.”

His response would have been enough to flood the coldest land with a wealth of warmth, as absolutely as that which blossomed in your chest.

“And you’re my muse.”

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

A/N: two more parts and an epilogue m’dears :)

taglist: @melting-obelisks @retropetalss @hgmercury39 @topsecretdeacon @joemazzmatazz @perriwiinkle @brianmays-hair @im-an-adult-ish @ilikebigstucks @doing-albri @killer-queen-87 @n0-self-c0ntro1 @archaicmusings @cloudyyspace @annina-96 @themarchoftherainbowqueen @annajolras

Masterpost / Part 16 / Part 18

#tina's writing #starstruck #brian may x reader #fic

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gayoperatorgunclub · 4 years

Note

For the ultimate ship meme, Lion and Doc? I'm sorry, I'm LionDoc trash-

it’s all good!! whenever someone sends in an ask, i get an excuse to talk/write about one of my interests! really, it makes me so happy to be able to create content that people hopefully enjoy!! 💝💝💝

General:

How long will they last? - until the end of time, babey

How quickly did/will they fall in love? - it was love at first sight but then they started talking i do think it was some form of ~interest~ in one another at first sight, but then all that drama and lack of communication happened so they didn’t really allow themselves to even dream about the possibility of a relationship. HOWEVER! once lion joined rainbow and they talked their shit out like people who know how to cope, there was a period of a few months that is now referred to as The Four Months of Pining™, during which glaz did a lot of paintings where the subject (who usually bears an uncanny resemblance to doc or lion) is staring at something (or someone) longingly. he calls it his french period. when they finally get together, a LOT of money changes hands. and goes straight into sledge’s pocket (he was the only one who bet that it would take them this long). diana gets a brand new collar (handmade), bed (handmade), dish (handmade), and many new toys (some handmade, some store-bought. sledge’s craftsmanship can only get him so far)

How was their first kiss? - you know how the french are supposed to be super suave and confident??? and how gay people are trying their hardest but they’re just Not Good at things????? (i know these are stereotypes but stay with me). well, with their 5/8 french blood (i hc one of doc’s parents is fully algerian while the other is half french, half algerian), and their 4/4 gay blood, they have an 81.25% chance of success in matters of the heart. sadly, that 18.75% chance of failure came into play during this situation. picture it. doc and lion. romantic, home-cooked dinner. le festin is playing in the background. they’re holding hands over the table. suddenly, doc’s cat goes into labour. all hell breaks loose. lion is getting flashbacks to his son’s birth, so now he’s hyperventilating. doc carries him to the couch and turns on the fan so he can cool off and catch his breath, before carefully moving his cat, Rayie (arabic for gorgeous, pronounced rye-ah) to the living room in his handmade Birthing Box, then grabs a pile of blankets and a heat lamp and situates himself on the ground nearby so he can help her if she needs it. once the kittens are born (they’re twins!! Sadiqi is the boy, and Amirti is the girl!!!) doc makes sure they’re nice and warm and that Rayie is recovering, and gives her pets while she cleans her babies. once the happy family is all settled in for the night, doc walks over to the couch and just. lays down on top of lion. once he’s gotten over the adrenaline of the birth, he takes lion’s face in his hands and says “promise me you’ll be more calm if we ever decide to have kids” and gives him a BIG smooch while lion’s just short-circuiting like “does he know i have a son???? did i forget to mention my son?????? also what about these kittens??? are they not sufficiently childish to count as children????? DOES HE WANT KIDS????? does he want to marry me??????? wait why is he getting so clo-”

Wedding:

Who proposed? - lion. it was the day of their two year anniversary (yes i AM saying they got together the august after outbreak don’t @ me) and they were on vacation at doc’s family’s Secret Beach House. they were vibing on the balcony, watching the sunset, when lion suddenly clears his throat. doc turns to look at him and finds his boyfriend down on one knee, looking like he might flee to Bermuda. he’s reaching for something in his pocket. doc starts laughing. lion, completely misunderstanding his reaction, flushes and stammers out an apology. doc sees this, and immediately stops, though he’s still smiling gleefully as he catches lion by the biceps, then reaches into his own pocket and pulls the ring he was going to give olivier. they exchange rings, giggling like little kids, and spend the rest of the night making out on whatever surfaces are available.

Who is the best man/men? - for lion? montagne. (his son is the ring bearer and doc’s niece is the flower girl). for doc? rook. he’s so happy he gets to participate in his dad’s wedding

Who is the bride’s maid(s)? - for lion: finka. for doc: twitch

Who did the most planning? - both of them!! do you know how hard they worked to ensure the ceremony was valid in the eyes of both of their religions

Who stressed the most? - s e e a b o v e

How fancy was the ceremony? - Back of a pickup truck | 2 | 3 | 4 | Normal Church Wedding | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Kate and William wish they were this big.

Who was specifically not invited to the wedding? - lion’s parents. they tried to call him during the reception but doc’s grandma grabbed his phone and started cussing them out, talking about dishonor and how they tried to disown him so they’re not his parents anymore, and besides, his new family absolutely adores him, so really, it’s their loss. once she hangs up, she pulls lion into a hug and he calls her his favorite, if only, grand-mère

Sex:

Who is on top? - who’s topping? lion. but sometimes doc gets bitchy so he gets to set the pace if you know what i mean

Who is the one to instigate things? - they are both lowkey horny 24/7 so 👀👀👀

How healthy is their sex life? - Barely touch themselves let alone each other | 2 | 3 | 4 | Once a couple weeks, nothing overboard | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They are humping each other on the couch right now (only because they do get to see each other fairly often. if one goes on a long mission without the other, once they get back they will bump it up to a 10 real quick)

How kinky are they? - Straight missionary with the lights off | 2 | 3 | 4 | Might try some butt stuff and toys | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Don’t go into the sex dungeon without a horse’s head

How long do they normally last? - idk long enough ig. maybe longer if someone feels they’ve been left ~unsatisfied~ they might go a few more rounds ;))

Do they make sure each person gets an equal amount of orgasms? - ok it depends on what they’re doing but usually it’s one or two each, but on ~special~ occasions it’s either doc getting edged and denied for hours, OR doc getting forced to come over and over again until he’s begging for something, whether it be more or a goddamn break even he isn’t really sure. either way he’s crying and lion is consistently asking if he needs to safeword and otherwise checking in because they may like it rough but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care

How rough are they in bed? - Softer than a butterfly on the back of a bunny | 2 | 3 | 4 | The bed’s shaking and squeaking every time | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Their dirty talk is so vulgar it’d make Dwayne Johnson blush. Also, the wall’s so weak it could collapse the next time they do it.

How much cuddling/snuggling do they do? - No touching after sex | 2 | 3 | 4 | A little spooning at night, or on the couch, but not in public | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They snuggle and kiss more often than a teen couple on their fifth date to a pillow factory.

Children:

How many children will they have naturally? - unless someone’s hormones and organs get fucked, zero

How many children will they adopt? - probably none?? idk they’ve already got lion’s son and they’re both busy enough with work so

Who gets stuck with the most diapers? - NEITHER!!!!! DISGUSTANG!!!!!!!!!

Who is the stricter parent? - god i wanna say both. like lion and his attachment to rules??? but doc and his Mom Friend energy????? but ig lion BUT HE’S NOT STRICT TO THE POINT HE’S A BUZZKILL OR ANYTHING HE’S JUST RESPONSIBLE (he will NOT allow his husband and son to go vandalize the property of some islamaphobic brits, as much as he agrees with the sentiment)

Who stops the kid(s) from doing dangerous stunts after school? - doc will only allow vandalism if it’s in the name of righteousness. meaning, he’ll allow their son to spray paint the walls of a goddamn walmart with shit like “eat the rich” and a portrait of robespierre and a guillotine, but it is a HARD NO on defacing places like the library or community center (unless he has a good reason to do so). lion spends his time praying and making sure his son knows which acts of civil disobedience are acceptable and which are distorting their goal

Who remembers to pack the lunch(es)? - doc. he (privately) dreams of retiring (eventually) and living out his lifelong dreams of being a househusband. so

Who is the more loved parent? - SHUT THE FUCK UP RIGHT NOW GET OUT OF MY HOUSE IM GONNA BEAT YOUR ASS. but ig lion??? BUT ONLY BECAUSE THEIR SON HAS KNOWN HIM LONGER. doc is half Dad and half Cool Uncle Who Gives Me Spray Paint And Tells Me To Make Myself Heard (to clarify, i know doc is a pacifist, but im kinda projecting my own sentiment of “we’ve tried to be peaceful but you wouldn’t give us the time of day. now that we’ve “acted out” we’ve gotten your attention, and rest assured, things are going to change.” he won’t hurt anybody, he’s just tired of having to be everyone’s “muslim friend” and educating people on things they could google themselves)

Who is more likely to attend the PTA meetings? - it used to be lion out of necessity, but when people started asking about his “wife” he was really torn between telling them that he and his son’s mother separated, but now he has a partner and his son seems very happy about it. when doc finally attends a meeting with lion, people really struggle to hide their shock. a few clunky but well-meaning “we support you”’s and “we’re sorry for everything that’s been going on”’s later, doc has used his charm to make friends with literally everyone. from then on, he is on pta duty on behalf of lion and his ex

Who cried the most at graduation? - lion! his parents purposefully didn’t show at his, so it’s a big deal for him to show his son just how proud he is. doc tears up a little too, but manages to mostly keep it together so he can support lion, who spends most of the day heave-crying about how proud he is into his husband’s shoulder. gustave just pats him on the back and tells him that they’ll run out of donuts if they don’t get to the concession stand soon

Who is more likely to bail the child(ren) out of trouble with the law? - doc. civil disobedience, baby!! he has never been caught. lion fears the law after his youth, so he tries to avoid any visits to law enforcement. he also can’t stand to see his son behind bars

Cooking:

Who does the most cooking? - doc. househusband, remember?

Who is the most picky in their food choice? - doc, but only because he can be a bit of a spice supremacist. he has to get his ingredients from these very specific farms and markets or else his great grandmother will begin manifesting in their house to curse them

Who does the grocery shopping? - doc, bc he does NOT trust lion to not just sweep all of the microwave ramen and kraft mac n cheese into the cart then sprint to self-checkout

How often do they bake desserts? - whenever possible. doc and maestro live by the philosophy “don’t do anything halfway” if they’re going to go through the trouble of making a meal, it will have multiple courses.

Are they more of a meat lover or a salad eater? - doc is more of a salad eater but only for ease of consumption with halal laws. he adores filet mignon

Who is more likely to surprise the other(s) with an anniversary dinner? - lion! maestro enlists himself as assistant head chef after walking into the base’s kitchen one day to find lion covered in flour and lying facedown on the floor, crying

Who is more likely to suggest going out? - also lion! though he’s memorized doc’s order at all of their favorite restaurants, so he usually just gets take out and puts on a big show of being a “tired housewife who works in the kitchen all day just for this one meal” and setting up the table so it’s all nice and romantic

Who is more likely to burn the house down accidently while cooking? - lion. he tried crème brûlée once. never again

Chores:

Who cleans the room? - lion. organization is everything to this man. doc helps with laundry and such, but for the most part he leaves organization to lion and his systems (think leslie knope levels of planning and organization)

Who is really against chores? - neither! they both understand that teamwork makes the dream work, baby!!

Who cleans up after the pets? - doc, since lion’s already asked him which color hanger should represent “clothes i can tear off my husband before we fuck” and he needs a Moment

Who is more likely to sweep everything under the rug? - neither. they don’t own a broom

Who stresses the most when guests are coming over? - lion because of the deep-seated catholic urge to appear perfect in front of others, and doc because people will gossip, olivier!

Who found a dollar between the couch cushions while cleaning? - lion. he immediately called doc into the room and asked “is this your stash of drug money?” doc, who had been asleep because it was 3 in the morning on a saturday, just stares at him

Misc:

Who takes the longer showers/baths? - it is so bold to assume they don’t shower together to “cut costs”

Who takes the dog out for a walk? - lion is known in their neighborhood as the man who walks cats. there is a facebook page where people post pictures of him walking his cats. vigil is an admin

How often do they decorate the room/house for the holidays? - LITERALLY EVERY HOLIDAY GETS DECORATIONS. lion makes his own for the muslim holidays since there really aren’t many “of good quality” in stores. when they first started dating, doc came home to find his house covered in ramadan decorations, and lion standing precariously on a ladder, trying to string up fairy lights while learning how to pronounce important arabic words. needless to say, doc cries

What are their goals for the relationship? - mutual joy and contentment!!!!

Who is most likely to sleep till noon? - doc. he’s sleepy

Who plays the most pranks? - lion, but they’re stupid ones like replacing certain pictures with danny devito. doc gets back at him by replacing pictures of jesus with ewan mcgregor, and putting yoda into his nativity scene. lion doesn’t notice

#ask #anonymous #r6s doc #r6s lion #doc/lion #ass alert!#could you tell i forgot whether or not lion's ex and son had names #thank you for interacting!

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deanstop13billyjoeltraxx · 4 years

Text

Superposition

a deancas college roommate AU

Chapter 10 is up on AO3! Chapter-by-chapter masterlist here.

Wanting is Enough

“You goin’ home for Christmas?” Dean asked.

They were walking back to the dorm after dinner. It was the Saturday after Thanksgiving, a holiday for which neither Cas nor Dean had bothered to travel home.

“No,” Cas said. “I don’t believe I’m welcome at my father’s house anymore.”

Dean glanced sideways at him as they entered the stairwell. “Why? ‘Cause you’re gay?’ He asked.

Cas shrugged. “If he knows now, from Bartholomew or Hannah, then that certainly doesn’t help my case.” He sighed. “No, when he found out I was attending college and not entering ministry, he told me I shouldn’t come home again.”

Dean held the exit door open as Cas walked onto their floor. “When did that happen?” He asked.

“I kept the entirety of my college application process a secret. Only Anna knew,” Cas said. “She’s the only other sane person in my family. I made the mistake of informing the rest of them about it at dinner sometime in July.” He gave Dean a wry smile as they entered their room. “None of them were particularly thrilled.”

“You told them about the full ride and everything?”

“Yes.”

“And your old man still kicked you out?”

“The same night.”

Dean snorted. “Dumbass.”

A smile tugged at Cas’s lips. “You could say that.”

“Where’d you go after that?” Dean asked.

“Well, Anna was already living alone, down in Norman. She was at the University of Oklahoma,” he added by way of explanation. “I just stayed with her until August.”

Dean nodded. “She sounds cool. What’s she doing now?”

Cas broke into a grin. “She lives in North Carolina, now. She’s a therapist.”

Dean smirked at him. “So your ass is constantly getting psychoanalyzed?”

“I suppose.”

Dean slumped into the beanbag with a sigh. Cas remained at the door, leaning his weight against it.

“What about you?” He asked after a beat. “Are you returning home for Christmas?”

“Yeah,” Dean said, smiling. “Well, it’s kinda complicated. I am going home, like, my actual home. Lawrence. We spend Christmas with some family friends.” Dean paused, looking thoughtful. “They’re really more family than friends. Bobby and Ellen and Ellen’s kid Jo. Bobby and Ellen were both friends with my dad.”

“Will your father and brother be there?”

Dean’s look darkened, if only slightly. “Dad’s not coming. The whole thing started ‘cause he got tired of trying to pretend to like the holidays after Mom died. Decided to pawn us off on his old friends. But yeah, Sammy’ll be there.”

Cas gave him a nod and pushed off from the door. While he was disappointed that Dean would be gone for winter break, he was relieved, too. That was three weeks sans-Dean, more than enough time for Cas to work through his little crush. The solitude would be good, he told himself. Cas figured he could fast-track the five stages of grief, and by the time Dean returned, Cas would be the best friend he deserved. Cas sighed to himself as he rifled through his closet for a towel and a change of clothes. He was grabbing bottles of shampoo and body wash when Dean cleared his throat.

“You know,” he said slowly, like the words were difficult to force out, “You could… I mean, I’m sure everyone wouldn’t mind if you came to Christmas.”

Cas whirled around to face Dean, who was picking at a loose thread on the beanbag.

“What?” He asked, a little too loudly.

“Since you’re not goin’ home,” Dean said. “You know, it sucks to spend Christmas alone. ‘Specially in this dump,” he added, gesturing generally to the small room.

“Are you inviting me to spend Christmas in Lawrence? With you?”

Dean gave a short laugh. “I guess it is kinda dumb. Yeah, nevermind.”

“No, I’d like that,” Cas rushed out. He blinked at his own words. He was supposed to be avoiding Dean as often as possible, not spending three uninterrupted weeks in his hometown. “It sounds nice,” Cas added weakly, despite the fact that it definitely did not.

Dean looked up at him. “Really?”

“Yes.”

Dean broke into the biggest grin Cas had ever seen. “Dude, it’s going to be awesome. I can’t wait for everyone to meet you.” Dean stood up with and pulled Cas in for a hug, clapping him on the back twice. Cas winced, letting out a feeble chuckle as he returned the hug reluctantly. He was trying not to notice the warmth of Dean pressed against him, or the absence of it when they parted.

“Are you pissed at me?”

It was the Wednesday before finals started. They were quietly eating dinner when Dean threw the question at Cas, who coughed into his water.

“What?” He sputtered.

Dean rubbed the back of his head. “I dunno, man, I just feel like I never see you anymore.”

Guilt crashed into Cas like a freight train. He had been absent, more absent even than before Thanksgiving. Part of it was out of necessity — finals were fast approaching, and he was intent upon an all-A’s first semester. But the hours at the library were stacked on top of the hours he spent in class and the hours he spent simply staying away from his room.

“I apologize,” Cas said, and he couldn’t keep the earnestness from his voice. “I’m just feeling overwhelmed. I have two final papers, three exams, and two final projects coming up before the break.”

“No, man, I get it,” Dean said with a shrug. “You’re busy. Sorry, that was kinda uncalled for. All in my head, you know.”

Cas wanted to tell him that it was completely called for, that what Dean was feeling was valid, that he was being selfish and rude and a whole number of terrible things for avoiding Dean. But he couldn’t, because that would mean promptly declaring soul-destroying love for his best friend, right there in the middle of the dining hall. “You have nothing to be sorry about,” he mumbled.

Cas had thought that it was getting easier, being around Dean. He’d basked in the feeling of being not just someone’s best friend, but Dean’s best friend, after Halloween, and that was enough. And while he was still avoiding spending long hours in their room, he felt like he was well on his way to making peace with the unrequited.

But then, they’d gotten drunk on the night of Thanksgiving. Cas didn’t remember much besides waking up in a tangled heap with Dean on the floor of their room. He’d been successful in extricating himself from the strange embrace before Dean regained consciousness, and thank god for that. But the situation lived rent-free in Cas’s mind. It made things considerably more difficult.

And then there was the prospect of travelling to Lawrence to spend Christmas with Dean and his family. Cas really hadn’t wanted to spend the holiday alone, and was, on the one hand, thankful for the invitation. On the other, his anxiety was mounting. That trip meant there was absolutely no avoiding Dean for at least three weeks; not to mention the fact that he was meeting the group of people most important to Dean.

So if Cas was making extra efforts to put space between himself and his roommate, it was not unwarranted.

They finished eating and made their way back to the dorms. Dean was complaining about his own finals, and while Cas tried his hardest to remain engaged, his heart wasn’t in it. He was angry at himself. Even when he felt like he was succeeding, he was failing.

“Cas,” Dean said. Cas had just let them into the room, but Dean was standing resolutely in the hallway.

“Yes?” Cas responded.

“Are you… I know I already asked, but man, something’s off,” Dean rushed out. “Is — Is this about Christmas? ‘Cause —”

Cas interrupted him. “No, Dean. I’m excited to spend Christmas with you and your family.”

Dean smiled weakly, but it was brief. “I just — you’re never around, man,” he said, rubbing the back of his head. “I feel like I fucked something up somehow.”

Cas knew Dean well enough by now to know there were things he was trying to say without saying them. His heart broke to know that I miss you was likely one of them.

“I promise, you’ve done nothing wrong,” Cas said. “I’m just concerned about my finals.” Lie.

Dean looked at him with skepticism. “Okay,” he said finally.

Another twinge of guilt soared through him, but he didn’t say anything more, just gathered his things for a shower. Dean still hadn’t come into the room when Cas pushed past him and made his way to the bathroom.

When he returned, Dean was gone, but Cas saw a notification on his phone.

DW (7:32 pm)

went out back later

Cas narrowed his eyes at the short message, but typed out a reply anyway.

CN (7:34 p.m.)

Okay. Be safe. Don’t forget, there’s class tomorrow.

He sat down at his desk and opened his computer. He tried studying for his accounting final, but the words and equations might have been hieroglyphics for all that he was absorbing them. Cas sighed and pulled up the final project description for his creative writing class instead.

It was his favorite class by far. In high school, Cas focused on writing short stories, mostly adapted from real life. His notebooks were his confidants, the product of never having a close friend. But now, he was challenged to write other things; poetry, scripts, memoirs. Cas lived for the challenge, finally able to stretch new creative muscles. And while his attempt at drama had received mixed reviews from his professor and peers alike, his other works were well-received. He’d never shared his writing with anyone, and to hear others enjoyed it was something Cas cherished.

But this final project, it was difficult. The professor had tasked them with writing a 1000-word story in prose and adapting it into both a drama and a poem. The goal was to tell the same story in each genre. Cas couldn’t even think of a scene he might want to write, let alone how he was going to move fluidly between genres.

He sighed, and began to list out possible ideas. When it became clear that he wasn’t getting anywhere, he closed his notebook and moved onto something less intense. He reviewed his econ notes for an hour, got started on his final paper for literature.

After hitting a solid halfway point on his first draft, he checked his phone again. It was already midnight. Cas frowned. Dean was known to stay out late on the weekends, but it was Wednesday. Cas knew Dean had a nine-a.m. history class on Tuesdays and Thursdays. He also knew that Dean wouldn’t make it to said class if he was out much later. He sent him a text.

CN (12:03 a.m.)

Are you all right?

Cas hit the bathrooms to brush his teeth and get ready for bed before checking his phone. His worry only increased when he saw that Dean hadn’t replied. He sent another text, hoping he didn’t seem too overbearing.

CN (12:11 a.m.)

Just making sure you’re alive.

He decided that if Dean didn’t respond in the next ten minutes, he’d call, regardless of how ridiculous he might sound.

Cas paced around the room, picking up what little stray trash they had left lying out. He was about to take out his phone again to check the time when it started vibrating on his desk. He picked it up eagerly, but frowned at the unknown number. Cas considered letting it ring out, but he hit the “accept” button at the last second. He didn’t say anything as he held the phone up to his ear, expecting a wrong number.

His eyes went wide when Dean rasped, “Cas?”

“Dean?” Cas replied, trying to keep panic out of his voice. “What — Why are you calling me from this number?”

“Phone’s dead,” he said, sounding exhausted. “I hate to do this to you, man, but… Just — goddammit — can you come get me?”

“What?”

“I’m just — I’m at the corner of seventeenth and Gentry.”

“Don’t you have a DD?” Cas asked. Dean had never called him to pick him up from a party. He always made sure someone was sober, or he called an Uber.

“No,” Dean sighed.

“Seventeenth and Gentry?” He repeated, and he heard Dean murmur something in affirmation. Cas made a turn for his car and said, “I’ll be there in ten minutes.” He hung up.

Cas tried to drive at a normal speed, but it was difficult. Dean had left abruptly, and while Cas hadn’t thought to question it, it now seemed glaringly out-of-character. Dean had never partied in the middle of the week, and he certainly had never gone drinking by himself. Every red light kicked his anxiety up a notch.

After the interminable drive, Cas finally arrived at the corner Dean had directed him to, a small bar with WSU flags plastered everywhere. Cas drove past the front of the building slowly, but couldn’t find Dean there. Finally, he saw a phone booth just past the bar’s street parking, and he coaxed the car forward. Dean was leaning against its side, a cigarette in his mouth. He hadn’t brought a jacket, and it was barely thirty degrees out. Cas turned up the heat in the car as he unlocked the passenger door.

Dean put out the cigarette and slid in without a word. Cas hit the gas and started the drive back to the dorms.

Neither said a word in the ten minutes it took Cas to reach campus. The only sounds were the roar of hot air from the vents and the low groan of the engine. Cas kept his eyes in front of him, never once daring to glance at Dean.

When they reached the lot, Cas threw the gear shift into park and folded his hands in his lap. He stared at his own interlaced fingers, willing Dean to speak first, not wanting to ask the question.

Dean didn’t speak, though, just opened the car door and stepped out. Cas saw a light flicker through the passenger window, and suppressed a groan as he realized Dean had lit another cigarette. Typical, Cas thought, and he was suddenly annoyed. It occurred to him that if their places were switched, Dean would be hounding him, demanding that Cas tell him everything, because he always did. Anytime Cas seemed the slightest bit off, Dean was there, asking questions, being the good friend that he was. But now? Now, he expected Cas to leave it alone, to let him suffer with whatever was bothering him. Cas took a few steadying breaths, then turned the engine off and got out.

“Dean,” he said, trying to keep his voice neutral, “What the hell?”

Dean didn’t answer, just took a long drag, his gaze aimed resolutely ahead. Cas huffed and crossed his arms.

“You… You can’t just ask me to come pick you up from a bar and not offer an explanation,” Cas said.

“Sorry,” Dean muttered.

Cas let out a mirthless laugh. “Oh, well, that’s perfectly adequate,” he scoffed.

“What else am I supposed to say?” Dean demanded.

Cas stared at him, then shook his head. “Nothing,” he said, his jaw set. “I’m going to bed.

“What?” Dean asked, finally looking at Cas.

Cas shrugged. “I’m obviously wasting my time.”

Another drag. An exhale.

“My dad called while you were in the shower.”

The irritation shifted, almost immediately, to concern. “Your father called you?”

“Yeah.”

“What did he want?”

Dean tapped his cigarette against his leg. “Mostly to remind me what a piece of shit I am.”

Cas remained silent, allowing Dean the space to form whatever his next thought might be.

“I guess…” Dean rubbed his free hand over his forehead. “I guess Sam let it slip that I was bringing you to Bobby’s for Christmas.”

Cas cocked his head. “And that’s… Problematic?”

Dean exhaled another plume of smoke. “Yeah,” he said. He let out a mirthless laugh. “He said he didn’t get it, that if I was bringing anyone home, it should be a girlfriend, not…” Dean trailed off.

Cas felt the blood leave his face. “He thinks —”

“Yeah.”

“Dean, I don’t have to come,” Cas said. It would be better for both of us. “I’ll be perfectly fine here. I appreciate the offer, I do, but I don’t want to make life more difficult for you than necessary.”

Dean looked at him, finally, and he was all shadow and exhaustion. “No, he’s not gonna be there. You’re coming,” he said resolutely, and Cas tried not to let the disappointment show. “Plus, that wasn’t all of it. He’s pissed that I didn’t come home for Thanksgiving. Said something about how I was dishonoring my mom’s memory or something.”

Cas was silent for a moment. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

“What do you mean?”

“At the bar,” Cas clarified. He couldn’t tell how drunk Dean really was, but based on that recent revelation, he could guess.

Dean furrowed his brow. “What?” He cleared his throat. “I mean, I had like three beers. I was planning on going full blackout, but then you reminded me about class.”

Cas almost smiled at that, because it was almost funny. “Why did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Decide to get blackout drunk just because your father incorrectly assumed you were bringing me — bringing a male partner to a Christmas he wouldn’t even attend?”

Dean frowned. “I don’t — I don’t know,” he said, and he sounded almost surprised at his own answer.

Cas was treading on thin ice, he knew that. But he kept up anyway. “I don’t want to overstep,” he said slowly, “But, Dean, your father… It doesn’t seem like he’s taken the time to get to know you. The real you, not the version he wants you to be, or the version he projects onto you.”

When Dean didn’t stop him, he continued. “And you don’t owe him anything, not anymore. You’re here, aren’t you? All on your own. He has no power over you. And, I’m only assuming, but I believe that might terrify him. Because not only do you no longer need him, but you may choose not to want him.”

Cas let out a small laugh. “Believe me, I know how difficult it is to stop putting stock in what your father thinks. It took me years to accept that I had done nothing wrong, that my father was, and always would be, a bigot. I… I’m still working on it, even now,” he admitted. Cas sighed. “But my life has been better, easier, since I stopped trying to please someone who hardly even knew me.”

Dean’s expression changed, and he blinked. He was still looking in Cas’s direction, but not at him. Past him, at some unknown subject. Cas took a step toward him.

“Dean?”

“I don’t need him,” Dean whispered.

“Are you all right?” Cas asked, placing a hand on Dean’s shoulder.

Dean let out a huff, overflowing with something like realization. “I never thought about that before. It’s not like he’s ever tried to talk to me.” Dean threw his cigarette on the asphalt and stomped it out. A breathy chuckle escaped his lips, and he wrapped his hands around his midsection. “You know, I used to try so hard to be like him.” Dean tilted his head toward the sky. “I listened to his music, I dressed like him. Hell, I even started talkin’ like him.

“It was never enough, you know? I always fucked up. Sam didn’t get to school on time, or I forgot milk at the grocery store. I just, I dunno. I know he loves me. But I always wanted him to like me, too, you know?”

“I do.”

“Oh man, you should’ve seen him when he found out I’d been hiding money away to go to college,” Dean said, laughing darkly. “I thought I was gonna go to school with a black eye for a week.”

“He hit you?” Cas asked, horrified.

“What? No, no,” Dean said quickly. “I just thought he might.”

Cas let out a breath. There was one crime John Winchester hadn’t committed. “What do you mean, hiding money?”

“Dad never really had a steady job, not after our mom died,” Dean explained. “That’s why we moved around a lot. When I was fourteen, I started working. Chickenshit stuff, mostly. Mowing lawns and detailing cars until I was old enough to start flippin’ burgers.” Dean furrowed his eyebrows. “The money was supposed to go to rent and food, but I started putting most of it aside, just in case, you know? I had enough for a year of college by the time I was a senior. I figured I could get loans and stuff for the rest.”

“And when you told him, he got angry?”

Dean only nodded, now staring intently at the ground. Cas didn’t say anything more, knowing Dean had probably just unloaded more trauma than he’d even known he had. Finally, though, Dean’s gaze met his.

“But I don’t need him,” he repeated.

“You don’t.”

“He’s nothing, unless I want him to be something,” Dean said slowly, and his eyes were growing triumphant. “Cas, you’re a genius.”

“If you say so.”

“You learn all that stuff from your sister? The one with a degree in ‘dealing with crazy fuckers’?”

Cas smiled. “Maybe,” he said. “And therapy isn’t just for ‘crazy fuckers.’”

Dean smirked at him. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you say ‘fuck’.”

Cas rolled his eyes. “It’s cold out here,” he said. “Let’s go inside.”

“Yeah,” Dean said. “Yeah, okay.”

As they walked, Cas felt latent anger curl in his stomach. Dean hadn’t told Castiel much about his home life, not until that night. He understood, now, why Dean could so easily take care of others, but needed three beers and a cigarette to show his own vulnerabilities. In his eighteen years, had Dean ever been told that he was enough? The possibility that he hadn’t awakened something in Cas, some righteous fury.

He chided himself internally. How much of his selfish avoidance scheme had contributed to those feelings of inadequacy? He’d rather burn with the pain of unrequited love forever than let Dean think he wasn’t enough.

When they reached the entrance to their dorm, Cas put a hand on Dean’s arm. “Are you okay, Dean?” He asked.

Dean let out a long breath. “Yeah,” he said after a moment. “I’m okay. I really am.” He said it like it might have been the first time he’d ever meant it.

Cas woke up at two in the morning from a particularly vivid dream. His breathing was heavy with the shock of waking up so suddenly. Dean was breathing slow and even across the room, still entirely asleep.

Cas shook his head a little. The dream had felt so real that it had left a residual burning feeling in his hand. He stared at it, but it remained entirely human.

Abruptly, he remembered his creative writing project. A short story, something he could turn into a poem and a stage scene. A lightbulb went off in his brain.

Cas lowered himself from his bed and hurriedly opened his computer. He had to get this down as soon as possible. Cas replayed the dream in his mind as his computer booted up. He supposed it might be a little strange, to turn this story in as his final project, considering it was somewhat of a self-insert. But it had everything he needed.

Finally, he opened a blank document and began to write the first draft. Cas wrote down everything he could remember from the dream, sights and sounds and feelings. With each word, his excitement grew. He’d never felt this way about a writing project, like the story demanded to be told.

Cas hit word count and kept going, because the story was building itself larger and larger. He didn’t even notice how long he’d been working until Dean’s six-a.m. alarm went off.

Dean groaned and rolled over in his bunk. He said something, but Cas didn’t hear, too intent upon getting the words in his head onto the page.

“Hey,” Dean said, raising his voice. “Stephen King, what the hell?”

Cas didn’t turn from the computer screen. “Good morning,” he said. “How did you sleep?”

Dean groaned. “Like the dead,” he said sarcastically. “How long you been up?”

Cas checked the time. “Somewhere around four hours,” he said.

“Four — you’ve been up since two?”

“Yes.”

Dean blanched and swung himself down from his bed. “Dude, that means you got, max, an hour and a half of sleep.” He made his way to Cas’s desk and leaned over his shoulder. Upon seeing the word count on his screen, his eyes widened.

“You wrote all that last night? Or this morning?” He asked.

Cas shrugged, a little sheepishly. “I got inspired.”

Dean blinked at him. “I’m gonna make a pot of coffee,” he said.

Cas wrote a few hundred more words before finding a good stopping point. He scrolled to the top of his document and highlighted the scenes he wanted to use for his project. Dean brought him a cup of coffee, which Cas accepted eagerly, beginning to feel the first twinges of exhaustion through his inspiration-fueled mania.

“What’re you writing over there?” Dean asked after taking a sip from his mug.

“It’s one of my final projects,” Cas replied. He drank from his own mug.

Dean looked at him in horror. “A five-thousand word essay?”

Cas laughed. “No. A thousand-word short story,” he said.

“What, so you’re an over-achiever?”

“No,” Cas said. “I’m only using the first thousand words for my project. But I just couldn’t stop. There was more to tell.” His cheeks flamed. Talking about his creative projects always embarrassed him.

“What’s it about?” Dean asked.

Cas gave him a sideways grin. “You’ll find out when you read it.”

Dean scowled. “At least tell me what you’re calling it.”

Cas looked up thoughtfully. “I don’t know for sure yet,” he said. “That reminds me…” He turned back to his computer to save the document. When faced with the title option, he faltered. He typed in “The Righteous Man.” That would do for now.

-------------

taglist! @nguyenxtrang @castielsbeeslippers

#supernatural #destiel #deancas #destiel fic

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mintjamsblog · 5 years

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Hi, I love how you write Alfie and Tommy (especially your Alfie POV fics), you've got his voice so right! I wondered what you think Alfie's relationship is? Like has he slept with men or women or both? Has he ever had a serious relationship? With who? I don't know whether I sent this ask already, so sorry if I did! Thanks

Thank you, I love writing Alfie so I’m glad you think I’ve got his voice, he’s certainly complex! But I have a lot of feelings about his relationship history, so here goes…(bear with me…)

Alfie Solomons relationship history (headcanons)

He’s always been an outsider. Even as a kid in Camden Town. Not only was he Jewish and fatherless and a loner by nature, but his brain worked differently too … he made connections quicker than most.

The great advantage of being an outsider was that it made him an excellent observer … not only of situations but of people. And what his observations told him was that most people were greedy and selfish and cowardly and almost always less intelligent than him. Consequently he finds very few worthy of his time and even fewer worthy of his actual interest.

He knew from early on that he had an eye for men – but also that it was a danger, a weakness. He slept with a couple of women, paid them, just to try it, just to confirm that it wasn’t really for him. And he’s had very little to do with women ever since, not that he has anything against them, they simply don’t feature heavily in his life. There was his mother of course, who he respected, loved, but she didn’t coddle him, she was always working, always busy and expected him to be too. And there is his maid, Edna, who he appreciates greatly but she doesn’t live in (because he likes his own space thank you very much). There are very few women in his line of work and none at the bakery (even his office staff are men). It suits him fine. He’s not scared of women in any way, but he does have a sense that there’s more trouble when they’re around. Usually caused by men.

He’s spent most of his life on his own, fully accepting of the fact that he’d never have a conventional set-up, a marriage or kids. He’s always been selfish, grumpy and busy enough not to care, plus it’s just easier on his own. Life is less risky when you only care about yourself and it gives your enemies less leverage.

That said, he’s not without desires…but he’s always known where to get his kicks. It’s easy enough to find the right kind of men if you hang around the right kind of places (the docks, canals, certain movie theatres and clubs). But it has always been pretty transactional, a fix, a release, and necessarily secretive.

There was someone once. In France. He developed an affection for a soldier in his ranks – a bright, intelligent, innocent lad from south of the river. He had wit and ambition and a thirst for life that Captain Solomons found captivating. It was reciprocated for a while too; might even have made Alfie believe that there could be something more for a man like him – something beyond just sex. But the war put an end to it, the lad was killed a year before armistice and that was that. It only reinforced Alfie’s sense that feelings are a weakness, that warmth is fleeting and generally snuffed out by people or events outside your control. So when he came back he closed the door on the whole episode, locking love in the same sealed box as war in his tidy mind. He saw little point in keeping a lid on his volatility after that either.

Once back in Camden he figured he’d just take whatever life offered him and trample anything in his path. He reverted to the old haunts to get his release, although with increasingly less satisfaction – whether the men are actually getting younger or it’s just that he is just getting older he isn’t sure – but it always feels slightly inadequate. Still, sex is a necessity, a commodity to be bought when required.

His increasingly unhinged persona (which he carefully cultivates) means that people tend to stay at arms length, so the chances of sleeping with anyone other than those he pays, well, they’re extremely slim. And if anyone did approach him he’d most likely assume it was a trap, because being gay in Camden in the 1920s leads to a necessary level of paranoia (to which he is naturally prone anyway).

He is not a people person. People just frustrate him. Waste his time. Take too long to catch on. Which makes him liable to fits of temper and frustration and unpredictability. Which just exacerbates the whole ‘insane Jewish gangster’ reputation and makes people steer clear. It’s a self-perpetuating cycle (and one that suits him very well, thank you).

Consequently no one has EVER spent the night in his house or his bed. EVER. Generally this suits him absolutely fine, but occasionally there’ll be a certain dream (about the lad in France, or his mother’s death) that will make him crave some human contact…a warm hand on his shoulder maybe. On those mornings he will occasionally share breakfast with Edna, make her stop and sit and drink tea with him.

But then he meets Tommy. And he can’t help but be interested. Because despite the fact that he is a cocky little upstart from the godforsaken city of Birmingham he has a rare combination of qualities that rouse admiration in Alfie. He’s wiley and quick and absolutely sure of himself.

And, well, he looks like that. It’s kind of hard not to notice.

Alfie is thoroughly intrigued but also actively annoyed by this. Because he also has this strange and unwelcome impulse to want to look after Tommy. He’s only little afterall, and far too brave for his own good and he just walks around rubbing people up the wrong way and, well, looking like that. Stands to reason he’s going to get himself in trouble. And Alfie absolutely shouldn’t care if he does, and yet he can’t help it. He finds Tommy Shelby creeping into his thoughts at the oddest and generally most inconvenient of times.

Everything was far, far easier when he didn’t feel like this. Because feelings only cause problems, and he has enough of those. So he tries very hard to not notice Tommy Shelby. When that doesn’t work he tries very hard to focus only his most irritating attributes. His constant smoking, drinking, eye-rolling and weird reliance on his fucked up family.

But then Tommy nearly gets himself killed (again) by the priest and finally, Alfie just can’t help himself. Has to step in, tell Tommy what’s good for him, take some control – because of course the silly boy is never going to realise that’s what he needs. But then he wasn’t banking on Alfie.

Once he’s admitted to himself that he wants Tommy there is really no going back. Because Alfie Solomons takes what he wants…it’s a process of accumulation. He is ruthless and relentless in his pursuit and happy to employ any method of coercion necessary. His uncanny powers of observation allow him to see things in Tommy that others might not. It unnerves Tommy, he knows that. In the end it’s a combination of taking away Tommy’s power and giving him the best sex of his life seems to work.

In bed Alfie is surprisingly selfless, if you can call it that, because he’s not actually trying to be selfless, it’s just that he fucking gets off on making Tommy lose it … lose control … lose himself. The only way Tommy can accept any pleasure or affection, so it seems, is by being forced to. By having his power taken away. Which given that Alfie likes nothing more than to be in control suits everyone just fine, thank you very much.

And now Alfie can’t imagine not wanting to do what he and Tommy are doing for as long as is humanly possible. Or until Tommy fucks off for a better offer at least. Which is bound to happen, let’s face it. (Because he looks like that after all).

#alfie solomons #tommy shelby #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders headcanon #tommy x alfie #sub!tommy

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mysteriouslypeculiar · 4 years

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Dystopia novel?

yeah! I’m writing a book! I’ve had the idea since sixth grade (seven years now!) and I’ve written multiple different drafts of it, but the basic premise and plot has stayed the same.

However, last night (or really, this morning) at around 1 am, I decided to, yet again, change the pov. So I had to rewrite it. And then, I started renaming things. And while I was renaming things, I changed the main character’s name. My writer friend was live texted the whole time as she got to watch the cogs in my brain start turning in real-time.

Basic premise of the book: there’s a city that survived an apocalypse that decimated everything outside their walls. They are the only ones left on their continent, maybe the only in the world. And so, they built up their walls, enclosing the society in a dome with a glass top, focused on forming a self-sufficient society. The society is entirely focused on innovation and advancement, to ensure that they’re ready for whatever could happen next.

To ensure that everyone’s individual potential is maximized, the jobs are separated into divisions, named Affinities. There are seven Affinities, with a floor of the city dedicated to each. I’ll put more about each in the read more because it’s long.

Plot: Phoenix lost her parents and her memories to an accident that wouldn’t have happened if she had just listened. She didn’t have to go after them. Didn’t have to always play the hero. But she did. And now they’re gone. And she doesn’t even remember them.

As she’s trying to piece together her rapidly returning memories, her friends are trying to convince her to lead their rebellion.

I’ve made a personality quiz for the book that has extra lore with an interactive twist.

Selling point: it’s gay. it’s diverse. none of the main characters are cishet. All of them are disabled and/or neurodivergent.

The main character has my own personal experience with memory loss. (not via an accident, but I have a memory issue that causes me to have huge chunks of time completely blacked out. I just don’t have access to those memories.)

Okay so here’s where it gets a little bit like Divergent but please trust me it’s literally NOT Divergent and that book wasn’t even a thing in my school when I started writing the first draft of this book okay?

Amicable

The human-touch.

In our city of robots and enhanced technology, Amicable are our nurses, teacher’s assistants, spa technicians, and other such jobs. They have the floor below Bellance. This floor is the main hub of activity. The school is located here, as well as the hospital, daycare, spa, library, and recreation center. It is, by far, our busiest Division.

Agricola

The farmers, and the main merchants.

They sell the everyday necessities, and provide materials to the other Divisions as needed.They have the top floor, with a domed glass top to allow sun to shine onto the farm in the center. The market stands and stores surround the farm, blocking the view of the plants from those who are not in Agricola.

Bellance

The beautiful.

While everyone in our city is beautiful, Bellance makes a job out of it. They are our actors, singers, and models. They have their own stores, separate from Agricola, that sell luxury items, such as expensive clothes or furniture. However, they do not sell the necessary daily items. Those can be found in Agricola. Their floor is under Agricola, and is full of nightlife.

Kingspin

The leaders.

Our government, the leaders, lawyers, bankers, and realtors. They have the floor above Innovation. This floor holds the courtrooms, and other governmental functions. We are governed through a Legislature, where most of those tested into Kingspin work. Houses are bought through the government, which is why realtors work in Kingspin.

Innovation

The Inventive.

One of our most esteemed Divisions, Innovation holds our scientists and researchers. Our smartest citizens live and work in Innovation, ensuring that our city stays up and running, constantly evolving to maximize potential. They have the floor above Valiance. Due to it’s academic rigor, Innovation has its own college to teach and train incoming Innovators. Most of their floor is top secret, however they do occasionally hold seminars in their college that are open to the public.

Valiance

Our guards.

They are our sentries, protecting us from the inside and out. They have the bottom-most floor. Unless they are visiting family, no one outside of Valiance wants to spend a lot of time on their floor. The jails and detention facilities are down there.

(acab!!!! don’t worry a major plot point in this is them dismantling both Valiance and Kingspin. Fuck cops. Cops and government stinky corrupt.)

This isn’t like the Christian Myers-Briggs that Trisscuit had going on in D*vergent. I swear. Listen, listen. It makes sense. I promise. And also the plot and story line and society are entirely different and I’ve been working on this for a long time and it’s really diverse and it’s written by a queer, disabled, not-christian non-binary person. This isn’t your mom’s dystopian novel.

If you read this, I love you. I will share the google docs with you if you want to read what I have. I will go o f f if you want to hear about the lore I’ve written for this book. I will scream about the characters and the intricacies I’ve given them. I have so little written but so much developed. I know what I want to happen. It just hasn’t happened yet.

#Anonymous #asks!#gimme notes #the protagonist is white but that's because I'm white and I don't want to write someone else's story #but FUCK if I'm not going to include people in my story #please I will go off about this book #my own book series is my favorite series and I think that's pretty sexy of me #did NOT expect to take this long to answer this ask #i stared at it for an hour and then saved it so that I could answer it later #it's taken me an hour to write this response #it's probably riddled with spelling errors but that's because it's 1:40 am and I'm illiterate #and unfortunate trait for a writer to have #I just like the clicky clack sound my keyboard makes :)#okay posting now

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anglophile-rin · 4 years

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don’t trope me into this

tagged by @royedsasoei . Yay! Thanks! I love getting tagged in things and it never happens for any of those stupid Facebook ones, which makes you def top ten loves of my life ❤️❤️

However, the universe has once again asked the bisexual to choose things, and we all know how that goes...

Rules: Bold whichever trope you like the most (or hate the least if you’re not a huge fan of either) of the following pairs:

Slow burn or Love at first sight?

Ok, hear me out. So, like, Klaus lands his ass in Vietnam, tilts his head at the hot sleepy guy, and it's just "Oh no, he's pretty."

Dean stabs Castiel in the chest and again, "Oh no, he's pretty."

So, I guess what I mean is, I love a crush at first sight. But then slowly burn away at that love, my friends. Make me hurt with your need to JUST GET TOGETHER ALREADY.

Fake dating or secret dating?

Gimme the danger! Gimme the sneaky, sexy stuff! But also, gimme the secret dating that's not really a secret so much as, they just never bothered to tell anyone and everyone's just really confused.

Enemies to lovers or best friends to lovers or enemies to friends to lovers?

Maybe it's because I'm married to my best friend, maybe it's because my gay little heart realized 15 years too late that it was both gay and also had been in love with my high school best friend, but it just pleases me, damnit.

Oh no there’s only one bed or long distance correspondence?

Longing and phone calls and emails and texts (all fun to write, too, which helps) and whining pitifully to your siblings and friends and driving them bonkers. Yup. Hits the spot.

hurt/comfort or amnesia?

Whump has been in my soul since I had my first crush at two years old. Do you know how much little me delighted in Luke Skywalker having his hand cut off?? It was indecent. Add comfort from a loved one? I'm set.

Fantasy au or modern au?

Both are great, but I have to really be in the mood for a fantasy AU. Modern is just so clean and easy.

mutual pining or domestic bliss?

Can I say both?? I want them to pine and then I want them to have babies, DAMNIT.

smut or fluff?

Damnit. Both! I want both! Give me fluffy smut! Give me smutty fluff! Tenderly fuck and then cuddle, god DAMNIT.

But, if it must be one without the other, I suppose I'd have to go fluff. Though I get WAY more embarrassed reading a good fluff in public... 😬

canon-compliant or fix-it?

Listen. There is this thing called bury your gays, and I am not about that life. So I almost have to read fix-it just as a matter of necessity. But it has to be as canon-compliant as possible while fixing it.

Reincarnation or character death?

So, when I was young I watched a Disney Channel movie called Susie Q (I think) and the girl totally dies in the past (I think??) but then the guy sees basically her exactly in the future and first my little self was all "Woo! Her heart will go on!" but soon after I was like "Wait, that's kind of shitty, isn't it? Poor girl just being used as a replacement for a self she doesn't even remember." So, give me death. Plus, damn that grieving...

But if you're gonna reincarnate, you gotta reincarnate both of them again and again spanning centuries.

one-shot or multi-chapter?

The longer the better. Give me it ALL.

kid fic or road trip?

I am SO SOFT for my favs being parents. SO SOFT. The kids have to be written well, which can be a chore, but kids. Do it.

sci-fi au or magic au?

Solely because I have read way more magic AU than sci-fi AU. Though I'm ready this SWU fix now....oh man....

Arranged marriage or accidental marriage?

Arranged marriage totally belongs in either enemies to lovers or arranged marriage to the wrong person. Some Romeo, Juliet and Paris shit up in here. Accidental marriage? That is pure of heart and dumb of ass and I am HERE for it, always.

Time travel or isolated together?

This being said time travel involving Mr. David Katz will win out every time.

But yeah. Get snowed in, get trapped in an elevator, get lost in the woods, I think we're alone now.

High school romance or middle-aged romance?

I love a good high school AU, I really do. So much angst, and soft, younger versions of my favs. But that being said, middle-aged. Yes. Grown ass men (let's be real, I almost always read the gay boys) feeling like teenagers? Complications of adult life? Gimme gimme gimme.

body swap or genderbend?

You did it. You offered the bisexual a choice and made her choose "neither." The only time I really can do genderbend is when it's temporary.

Angst or crack?

I can't do crack. I just can't. It's just...too silly. Too cringey.

Even if I could, though, I live for the angst. It feeds me.

Apocalyptic or mundane?

Listen, shit is stressful enough. Just be in love, would you?

But apocalyptic can totally be fun, too...

tagging @frecklesandsuspenders @swiftseptember and anyone else who may want to do this!

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ellelittlebitofcrazy · 4 years

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Film Review: 5 Reasons why Netflix's Sex Education is Revolutionary for Filipino Teenagers

Netflix's Sex Education has caught a lot of viewers' attention in the Philippines ever since it aired last 2019. A British comedy-drama teen series which received an 8.3/10 in Rotten Tomatoes and IMBD and some nominations for online film and television awards during its release years.

I remember encouraging my younger sister to watch Sex Education on Netflix because I believed she would learn from it and that it is good for her to be educated. At first, I was doubtful of whether I should do it or not because to recommend this type of film-- especially for Filipino teenagers that grew up from conservative families-- feels the necessity for personal space when watching. Some tend to keep it personal when it comes to the things rarely talked about in the family. Unlike western adolescence, Asians are more traditional and timid when it comes to topics that are intimate. This is why a lot of Filipino teenagers and young adults struck their interests ever since Netflix aired the film. Some comments were, "Have you watched the new Netflix series?" A friend of mine said, "Grabe, episode 1 palang.." They were surprised about what happened only on the first episode. But, aside from the fact that the film shows lots of the sexy stuff and the typical high school love thing going on, there are some points I would like to share on how this particular series has the potential to change the outlook of this generation. That being said, here are 5 things why I think Sex Education is revolutionary, especially for Filipino teenagers.

Sex Education is informative in an entertaining way.

Watching the show eases the awkwardness that teenagers often feel when talking about taboo stuff. An example is when Jean Milburn, Otis' mother, who is a sex therapist and one of the main characters of the show, assured Otis' frequent masturbation as being normal during puberty. Another is the vagina shaming incident that ended with an unexpected low-key unity among females who, ironically, dislike each other.

When we want something to be normalized, we can use methods that divert our attention from the idea that is frowned-upon in order to transition its state to a more acceptable type. In that way, the things we don't usually talk about turns out to be all right when we can laugh about it. "Yeah, its very funny but it's also true"-- the fact does not change. Sex Education portrays what high school feels like for most teenagers and the transformation of an uncomfortable situation into a stereotype kind of feels right when watching the film.

It tackles issues that are rarely discussed in schools.

There are a lot of things you don't learn in school, Brenda, but sex education should be one of them. Many schools here in the Philippines still posses such poor practice. Moordale Secondary School represents those schools but despite that, the film exposes these faults into circumstances and provides solution to them. An example is the scene where Jean Milburn talks about chlamydia in school and how it can cause panic and propagate false information among students who lack knowledge with regards to Sexually Transmitted Diseases. I think that conducting lessons about STDs or Safe Sex in school is not enough. Teachers should determine how their students feel about it and how this information should be used to advocate awareness than fear or anxiety.

Schools are supposed to be a safe and productive learning ground especially for pubescent individuals who are yet to discover a lot of things. It is good to acknowledge the importance of abstinence, but it does not take away the fact that the youth tend to act carelessly because they are on a part of their life where they are supposed to make mistakes. We would not want our relationships to end up like how the Moordale teachers Mr. Colin Hendricks and Ms. Emily Sanders-- who had dirty talking issues they can't even discuss-- handled it so the other ended up seeking advice from a student. It is not supposed to be that way! Talking about these things in school is healthy and is a fundamental element to consider for one's sexual awareness.

Sex Education depicts teenage reality about sexuality, circumstances, and problems.

Most Filipino teenagers, while growing up, either experienced how to deal with strict parents, bullies, or personal circumstances that eventually made them feel unsafe when it comes to asserting their themselves. Their sexuality, insecurities, and traumas were dramatically portrayed by the students in the series too. Knowing that Ola, Adam, and Eric too, felt differently and that it was okay feeling the same way they did when they finally realized their sexuality. Or when Olivia admitted her insecurities to her boyfriend and when Otis learned about his childhood trauma as the reason why he was having a difficulty in self-pleasure. With Maeve's family problems, and Aimee's emotional and physical security-- these scenes exhibit a sense of validation and understanding to the viewers.

We are now in the newest era where we have acknowledged our past and that it cannot hurt us anymore. We focused more on the things we did not learn or encounter before. The things our parents lacked teaching us. The things everyone forgot to tell us.

It shows the support that we get from our fellow teenagers

During childhood, kids encounter a lot of bading jokes and terms from their friends. During high school, filipino kids often tease one person who acts differently, but this generation is not easily hindered by individuality; just like Eric and Otis' friendship. Just as how the girls comforted Aimee after her bus incident. The fact that the film pulled it off with Eric and Otis' friendship tells a whole lot of difference. I have to say this: No one gets us but us. Not our parents, not our teachers, our ates or kuyas. Not them, but those who feel the exact same way too. We draw our emotional support from our friends. We tell them our secrets and the things we struggle from. Sex Education showed us that no matter how differently we may be from others, may it be from different circles, different neighborhoods, we have that one thing in common: We are all feeling these things at the same moment of our lives. We can now see the diversity in each circle of friends. We have conquered our differences and used them to unify ourselves.

Teenagers today feel a sense of security when they open up to their friends and I think it should stay that way.

Sex Education teaches communication as an essential tool

This is what I personally admired most about this film. The amount of courage that every character had in revealing their views. Number one is Otis and his mother's relationship. I would not say it is sometimes out of line, I want to focus on the outcome of that situation. If you watch and notice every time he courses into an argument with his mom, he would consistently be honest about his sentiments, whether he felt mad, or he felt betrayed. Number two, Eric and his father having a deep conversation about being openly gay. In one line Eric says, "Your fear doesn't help me, dad. It makes me weak." Number three, the season finale scene where Otis confronted his dad, Remi, about how he has never been there for him. It was probably the most intense and purest conversation a father and son could ever have. I cannot begin to imagine how brave it was for a parent admitting his mistakes to his child. Lastly, When Ola and Maeve finally ended their beef with each other and realize that women are supposed to have each others' backs.

These forms of conversations rarely happen to the youth in this country. Thus, they develop bad blood toward their family members, or grudge toward their friends. Communication is the healthiest form of understanding others. Something that this generation needs to improve. Some of us hide behind the fear of being wrong. For Jackson, the parental pressure. For Aimee--fear of not being heard. And for whatever reason, teenagers find it very hard to convey their emotions. The film's therapy sessions revolve around communicating such problems as it is the only way on how they could address them and just be done with it.

I hope this short review aids in understanding the change we need to be today. Our generation has come so far and I aspire for more growth. Cheers!

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letstalksymphogear · 5 years

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Symphogear, EP. 5

LAST TIME ON SINGY WINGY

ANGRY GREMLIN BEAT UP GOOD BY SUICIDE MOVE SURVIVE BLUE BIRD YES. BLUE BIRD GO TO HOSPITAL FOR WATER METAPHOR WITH AFTERLIFE GIRLFRIEND. TINY BIRD SAD, BUT THEN NOT GET SAD! JACKIE CHAN TIME AFTER MUCH THINKING. WIFE WORRIED ABOUT THINGS. SOMETHING SOMETHING PUNCH GOOD NOW.

Let us continue.

Miku wakes up to see her wife has run off yet again. This is the part of the Sam Reimi’s Spiderman franchise phase where the Mary Jane (not weed) begins having a rockier relationship with Peter Parker (not slang for penis) due to lack of availability.

It’s contrived.

It’s almost impressive that she left a note and had time to draw a tiny Hibiki saying something in a bubble. Glad to see you have your priorities straight, Hibiki.

“you know she might have had a better time in the local art school that doodle aint half bad”

Hibiki is motherfucking Rocky all up in this.

youtube

She’s going to kick some ass and nobody’s getting in the way.

“YOU’RE GONNA EAT LIGHTING AND YOU’RE GONNA CRRRRRAP THUNDER TACHIBANAAAAA”

“THAT’S A DIET I CAN GET BEHIND”

I wasn’t joking when I said she’s not fucking around anymore. Did you think I was joking? I can see how you can get the impression given the first few episodes, but I really can’t emphasize the thoroughness of the ass kicking she is going to be capable of.

“MY FATHERLY ENERGIES ARE WORKING! ADOPTERS ANONYMOUS WAS WRONG AFTER ALL!”

That’s totally not ominous in the slightest.

Meanwhile, in the middle of an unnamed McMansion in the middle of who knows where...

Gratuitously spoken English is heard. To be fair, it’s actually really impressive pronunciation coming from people whose native language are systemically different to ours. Most shows would just settle for “this dude is actually speaking english but everything is said in japanese for better interpretation” but not Symphogear! No siree!

Relic business is afoot.

We have a random blonde lady shooting random Noise from the thing The Gremlin had in her hands.

She’s really trying her best with her accent. She’s also casually shooting Noise because let’s face it, would we not do the same if it were in our hands?

“i do whatever i want with my big stiff rod pal”

Also, she’s a nudist. To also be fair, if you lived in a fuckoff rich McMansion with weapons beyond your comprehension, you likely couldn’t help but walk around naked doing whatever the fuck you want.

The people she’s talking to are the Americans, which we explained before are portrayed strictly in an antagonistic light. They want some relics, and this lady clearly deals them like like some sort of glorified drug dealer.

Suffice it to say, she’s not a very nice person.

Also, the subs don’t match what they’re saying in English in the slightest.

The name of this woman... is Fine (pronounced fi-neh). And she is the main antagonist of this series.

Fucking identical.

And here is the most unpleasant scene in the entire season.

The person we’ve repeatedly alluded to as The Gremlin is called Yukine Chris. She serves Fine in whatever the hell they’re up to right now. In this case, it’s using the Nehushtan armor to run around with Solomon’s Cane to throw Noise around the city.

“shits gonna get real abusive, pal”

Fine is a narcissistic sociopath. She’s manipulated Chris into servitude by believing she is the only one that can pave humanity into salvation.

“i dont like that smile”

Chris thinks Fine can secure her deepest wish. Ironically? It’s world peace.

“yeah! yeah yeah, world peace, yeah, totally. just treat me like jesus and we’re gucci”

Anyway, she proceeds to thoroughly shock Chris.

The lore behind this is that this is helping her resistance with dealing with the physical demands of the Nehushtan armor, as well as deal with the pieces of Nehushtan that may be still inside. Let’s be real, though. Fine’s a sadist, and just likes hurting people willy nilly.

“fuck... that hurt like shit... hey wait... wouldnt some of the electrical arcs hit you and shock you too, given you’re so naked and close to all this...?”

“ya nevermind that food looks real nice and i want a piece of that fuckin turkey”

It’s a real creepy scene, and it cements Fine’s horribleness really well. One of the most pivotal things to take note is that Fine says that people can only communicate with each other universally through pain. Strong, terrible BDSM overtones notwithstanding, this will be a common (though varying in quality) motif of the entire series.

“BITCH YOU THOUGHT WE WAS GUNNA EAT AFTER THAT FUCKIN’ WISECRACK ABOUT GETTING SHOCKED LIKE YOU’RE EVEN FUCKIN’ NIKOLAI TESLA ALL UP IN HERE WE’RE GONNA ELECTRIC SLIDE YOUR ASS TO NEXT WEEK”

“FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK”

“WHERE THE FUUUUUUUCK IS HIBIKI?!”

“i was gonna invite her to the circus with the rest of the class ‘cause i felt bad about how i treated her but i guess she’s not here”

“the only clown im interested in is hibiki, in the carnival tent of my own bedroom”

“isn’t being a part of /fit/ great, hibiki? can you just feel the gains?”

“yeah who needs doting wife based significant others when you have your gym bros, right newly acquired father figure?”

Hibiki, having acquired a new brain cell during her training, asks the million dollar question:

“Why the fuck are we relying on schoolgirls to deal with all this stuff?”

“anime just be that way, hibiki. i’m just the wrong protagonist in the wrong show.”

Japan is super big on keeping the Symphogear a secret because they are strong and the world really, really wants a slice of the Symphogear pie. These people are basically walking super-weapons. Tsubasa literally dropped a sword the size of a skyscraper. It’s like the premise of the series of Iron Man films.

“do i get like a superhero name too or”

Something to wrap your head around. This was released around 2012, and while the setting seems to be slightly more futuristic, the world it was made in at the time had not been through the era of social media/smartphones we have right now. It was on the cusp of doing so, which means the idea of decent (yet vertical) amateur footage of things happening wasn’t something in the mainstream yet. Why do I say this?

Because in Symphogear, the fact that Symphogear exist is the biggest open secret in this unidentified city ever. NDAs are passed like hotcakes to keep people’s mouths shut on seeing monster-fighting singing superheroes. And they sing, too! Symphogears as an entity are the most high-profile fighting agents out there. Bright colors, no masks, constant singing, fighting in broad daylight in populated areas. Everybody knows, but no one says a word.

Which means every politician on the face of Japan hates these idiots, but they’re stuck with them out of sheer necessity.

“i swear to god if you bring up sam reimi’s spiderman one more goddamned time”

“look it’s the truth, all anime comes back to sam reimi’s spiderman. fate zero did it. uhhh, fucking...baccano, probably? now us. face it. its pretty much the bible.”

It’s also pointed out that the very concept of a Symphogear is born from a science that didn’t exist, and it probably contributes to political frustration as well.

“im going to microwave all your sam reimi spiderman dvds. im gonna do it. you try me, motherfucker. i didnt go into acting and get into this position to hear lectures about a decades old film franchise nobody cares about anymore.”

“can we stop fighting about the validity of sam reimi’s spiderman for five seconds and get back to helping me thing of a dope as hell superhero name? now, lemme lay one on you: Mister Fister”

Hibiki asks where Code Ryoko is.

“any answer besides Not Here works”

“oh, she left to talk to the americans, why?”

“huh, shes sorta late, actually”

“WHY A BAD BITCH LIKE ME GOTTA GET STUCK IN TRAFFIC LIKE THIS”

In the mother of all Mom Vans, no less.

MEANWHILE... IN METAPHOR LIMBO...

Tsubasa has reached the sea floor of the water metaphor dimension surrounded by water, which is her feelings, which are very gay. Imagine the Mariana Trench but like, deeper. Way deeper. That’s where Tsubasa is.

Leave it to Kazanari “I am literally a sword” Tsubasa to successfully spin the very act of surviving a suicidal move during combat as a failure. That’s a special kind of self loathing right there.

“the sheer force of my love for big ladies is keeping me alive”

Tsubasa asks about the point of Kanade’s sacrifice. Why’d she do it? Why was she so hungry at the end?

She personally shows up to answer that question, because that’s Kanade for you.

“being badass is cool, but you know whats cooler? caring.”

“sharing the sauce... you... you shared the sauce...”

“thats right, tsubasa. i wanted to protect the sauce, but... ultimately... sharing it was better. it wasn’t my sauce, tsubasa. it was everyone’s...”

“im gonna suck on a ketchup packet in your memory, tsubasa”

Kanade’s spirit pulls her out of the dimension of water metaphors as she is slowly undrowning from her emotions.

Tsubasa, like Kanade, was lost in the sauce. But now, after Kanade’s touching peptalk, Tsubasa is lost no longer.

“will i ever see you again in my dreams, kanade...?”

“where there’s a sauce. i’ll be there.”

“ill eat taco bell every day just to see you again kanade”

“and i dont even like taco bell... im more of a chipotle girl...”

After accepting Taco Bell as her lord and savior, she is immediately pulled out of the metaphor zone.

And wakes the fuck up.

“b..... b..... b............”

“Baja Blast....”

#symphogear #symphogear season 1 #anime #comedy #recap

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gramon-my-otp · 5 years

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To The End, With You - chapter twelve

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Synopsis: Russell and Gareth participate in the entrance ritual of the secret gay brotherhood of Britpoplar. The Gallagher brothers prank Damon and Graham in an awful way - which escalated to a surprising revelation between the two friends!

Alternative Universe fanfiction placed in the 1600s.

Words: 2040

Disclaimers: I understand that Blur, Pulp, Oasis, Suede, Elastica and other bands members belong to their own and have their own personality and personal lives. I am aware this is nothing but a work of fiction and the way the characters are represented are fruit of my imagination and do not correspond to their real thoughts and way of life. Fanfiction should not be taken seriously.

(After more than three years, I came back to finish what I have started. Thanks for the giving me motivation @skygramon I can’t do this without you)

Two cloaked individuals sprinted around the borough of Britpoplar at night. They were aware that there were eyes in places they would never imagine. The location chosen for a secret meeting was unfamiliar to them, but the path that led to it was infamous for the grieving memory it sparkled. It was where Simon Gilbert last walked alive - and they were there, the two cloaked men, holding hands. They stopped by the butcher shop, as it was instructed to them. A straight gated iron door opened before them, almost invisible in the corner of the slaughter house. Only then the blokes noticed a flickering light in a window above. A hidden room above the shop. The negotiators had already been waiting. The men entered and the iron gate shut closed. Damon Albarn received the visitors with a knife in hand, pointing at them.

“Identify yourselves”

They removed their own covers completely, revealing to be Damon’s fellow Russell Senior and his young lover, Gareth Coombes. Damon put his blade back and greeted them accordingly. The setting was unsettlingly silent. The glow of candles reflected upon the stairs behind them.

“Up we go”, asked Damon, gesturing with his arms and hands.

The blonde followed the couple climbing the stairs, heading to the bedroom. Another iron gate, and also a door. Anxiety built up in the two lovers hearts. They held their hands tighter, and carried on. On the edge of the bed sat Morrissey and Alex James. He wasn’t happy to be there, but as a member of the society he had to fulfil tasks when required of him. Russell wasn’t expecting to see neither of them there. He would never guess the so much respected librarian was homosexual, and he never cared for a poor lowlife profile such as Alex. He was speechless already. Gaz took a deep breath and gathered the courage to make his question:

“Are those the ones assigned to each one of us?”

“Yes”, answered Damon, behind them. “It was easy finding someone slim, tall, and young as you are for Russell. Believe me, it’s easier to get it done when the person resembles someone you like”.

“So, I have to lie down with fellow Alex, while he has to lie down with Morrissey”, Russell was repeating the obvious. He knew Damon wouldn’t volunteer because they were kind of close. Still, the thought of that passage rite was absurd, but necessary.

“Are you going to stay here and watch us?” - asked Alex, annoyed. “Aren’t we going to have a little privacy?”

“Mr. James… Somebody has to watch the surroundings. Damon had the idea that we leave as a group afterwards, pretending we’re drunk”, Morrissey explained. “I’m sorry this room doesn’t fit your needs, but it’s the only we could find in a hurry. Now, shut your mouth and do what you are supposed to!”

Gaz and Alex were tops, while Russell and Morrissey were bottoms. It was difficult for the couple having to have sex in those conditions, only to be accepted, protected by the community. Proof was necessary, and now they had it. The plan for them to leave in safety proceeded well. They were mistaken by drunkards lost in Britpoplar streets.

The sound of boiling metal and hammers crashing against steel filled the emptiness of the air under the hot midday sun. The Gallagher brothers had been reforming armor pieces for the soldiers for the last few days. Not that they cared for the army. In fact, they didn’t, but gold was gold. The payment was good and they needed it. They constantly thought about what Jarvis Cocker and Brett Anderson said to them. Honestly, they thought they were crazy and being paid for following people was something way over the line. They rarely did the patrols they were supposed to, and never saw anything that called their attention. That day, though, was their lucky day.

“Fuck, I’m bored!”, voiced Liam, dropping his working material. “Tired of doing this and bored!”.

“If you leave the hard work to me again, I will take your gold for meself”, warned Noel.

“You just try it!”, Liam raised his fist toward his brother.

When they were about to throw punches at each other, they noticed movement behind them. They see Damon walking past by with Graham, chatting joyfully. In the midst of the awkward silence between the Gallagher brothers, the two peasants ignored them. In fact, they didn’t even witness the foolish discussion. They were so focused and entertained with each other.

“Let’s fool with them just like we did with that Justin Welch moron last week” - suggested Liam, with pure mischief in his eyes.

“Do we really have to?” - Noel questioned, uninterested.

“Are you crazy?! Stop being a slackass and let’s go!”- Liam tried to encourage him.

“Alright, alright. They are full of shit anyway…” - Noel got moving then, and Liam went along.

Graham was actually having one of the most exciting afternoons of his life. Listening to Damon nonstop, telling stories of the town and sharing his adventurous experiences. He would either blabber about managing the gay community or how much he liked Justine. Graham couldn’t avoid thinking how big of a hypocrite and selfish Damon was at that matter. What the hell did he want in life? The answer was simple, Albarn wanted the whole world, he wanted everything. However, no man was able to play God, nor he was allowed to be larger than life just for the sake of good fun and self indulgence. Damon’s sins were numerous, as he was endangering both himself and all the people he cared about. Sooner or later, Graham would suffer from some kind of backfire. The blonde one had been spending the whole day with his friend, saying lots of things, but not what he really wanted to say. Coxon was fine whether Damon knew he was attracted to him or not. It was too dangerous to risk it all for an affair. He was more than happy with his friendship.

“Oi, mates! What a pleasure to see ya in this part o’ town!” - Liam came in grinning wide.

Graham froze from his arse up. He was aware of the Gallagher’s reputation.

“What’s wrong, newcomer? Shat your trousers?!?” - Noel already got a grip of the brunette’s shoulder.

If Damon decided to fight them he would surely lose. Graham was nothing but a scaredy cat - there was no way he was going to help out in combat. As Liam sunk his knee deep in Damon’s stomach, Noel punched Graham in the mouth.

“Damon, no!” - uttered Graham.

“I’m okay, Graham. He’s too weak for me…” - Damon could barely talk, and still he mocked the one who bullied him.

The two victims were dragged by their enemies to Britpoplar’s cemetery. It had both fancy tombs for the rich families and some areas to drop poor abandoned chaps. Last time Damon was there he stole Simon Gilbert’s body away, to bury him at his homeplace.

“Right! Let’s play a game!” - Liam held Damon by his hair, almost pulling it from his scalp. They kept climbing the hill on the cemetery until they found the tiniest stone mausoleum. It must have been built for a child, but the funeral never happened. The monument was there for a really long time, and the Gallaghers often took other young men there just to terrorize them, locking them up in the tomb for several hours. They were about to do it with Damon and Graham.

“Liam, I don’t know if they will both fit in! We never tried putting two at once!” - Noel was laughing at his younger brother’s psychotic necessities. He probably participated only for gags.

“Shaddap and help me”

The only way Damon and Graham could coexist in that horrid conditions were positioned against each other, face to face, squeezed in the vault between the stone walls.

“Let’s see how long it will take for them to figure how to get out” - the two friends in trouble overheard the sentence, as the voices from Noel and Liam disappeared with the distance.

It was so tight in there that their rib cages didn’t have enough space to breath. Their legs were nearly intertwined with one another. Graham’s crotch was against Damon’s thigh, as well as the same for the other way round. The whole situation was disturbingly inconvenient, and yet it could get a lot worse.

“Graham, are you okay?” - Asked Damon after noticing his friend’s face twitch. - “Can you breathe?”

Coxon could only nod positively, while a drop of sweat ran down on his forehead. Damon struggled to move his hands and looked all around the stone enclosure.

“That’s what Justin Welch meant with being abused by the Gallaghers! What a bunch of useless cunts! If he got out, we can too!”

Not that Graham was relieved with the idea of being free from that nonsense, but while Damon was slowly searching for a lump, a button, or a handle of any sort in the walls, it was hard not move accidentally against his mate, rubbing himself against Coxon’s body.

“Damon, I am sorry, I am so sorry, I can’t!”

“What are you…? Oh, my… Graham, you…”

That was it. Graham Coxon got a boner, and his stiffness was screaming inside his trousers, trapped between Damon’s thigh and below his own navel. Damon first reaction was to be in shock. Never in his mind he could imagine this chap longing for him, even though Morrissey had suggested so a few days prior. Graham was truly mortified. He refused to open his eyes and wished he was dead only not to hear what Damon had to say. Instead of what was expected, Damon suddenly burst into laughter. Graham discreetly peeked at his giggling face.

“That’s right! Laugh at me! I deserve to be humiliated!” - Coxon cried dramatically.

“Shut your mouth, Gra.” - Damon silenced Graham himself, surprising him with a warm, magisterial, and hopeless kiss. He forced his tongue inside the man’s mouth, relishing on his sweet taste and extreme insecurity.

Graham, at first, got so scared with Damon’s sudden move, that he fought it, refusing to believe that his life had come that - but as soon as Damon’s large tongue made way, his whole body simply swooned. He wanted more, and he didn’t want it to stop - but Damon had a million thoughts in his head. He started it, and he ceased it too.

“We shouldn’t, Graham, you’re my friend.”

“I… I think I am in love with you.”

When they thought they were never gonna leave that wretched tomb, Damon unexpectedly hit his elbow on a piece of the wall and dislocated, making it possible for them to push the stones apart and escape the trap. They literally fell on top of each other when they made it out.

“You don’t want to get involved in this, Graham.” - Damon was referring to joining the gay brotherhood. “I can't let you risk your life over me.”

“But - I am not confused anymore! I know now, I want this, and I want you!” - Graham embraced Albarn, still on the ground.

The blonde one held Coxon’s chin, as if he was about to kiss him again, but then let go. He got up and assisted his confidant afterwards.

“Try to imagine yourself with a maiden or something and get rid of this hard-on you’ve got, We’re going back to the university.”

Eventually, Graham’s erection faded away, but not because he imagined a naked woman - being rejected by Damon in that way had hurt him. He felt as if his feelings had been played with, like a dart game. Damon had hit bullseye, and his heart was now bleeding. Neither him or Albarn could sleep that night. Coxon was just too sad, regretting that he opened his heart to his friend in a moment of fragility. Damon, on the other hand, kept awake because of his guilt. He didn’t want to mess with Graham’s feelings at all. He was still resenting Simon’s death, and believed he couldn’t keep his brothers at the secret community safe. He loved Graham too, still, he wasn’t ready to put his life on the line for the sake of their feelings.

#gramon #fanfiction #to the end with you fic #britpop #I am back

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sclvms-blog · 5 years

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★彡 ( jeon jungkook / cismale ) / sitting by the fire is salem hyun, who happens to be a 23 year old tattoo artist. their friends say he was in favor of the camping trip, which makes a lot of sense since they are the cataclysmic of the group.(honey/est/she/her/aries)

my tropey golden hearted lil bad boy who is just… chef’s kiss…. so disgusting (see: a mixture of chuck bass and joey tribbiani. h8 me for it.)

as a kid he really thot he had it MADE- but ofc, as you grow, you look back and realize that you were maybe looking through rose coloured glasses. the glasses that convinced you that your dad was infallible and you were destined to make it to mars or the white house by your twenties at most.

but sawyer lost those proverbial rose coloured glasses a while ago- now he only wears…. sunglasses 😎.

oof sorry anyways

SO basickally he was born in san francisco to an already dysfunctional family, in that his parents were two people who were together out of youth and necessity and probably shouldnt have had any kids together, let alone salem and his three younger siblings

five years older than his younger sister, he practically raised her in lieu of an almost entirely absent mother and constantly “working” father, overprotective of her to an almost annoying lvl uwu

my mans barely got through high school, only excelling in athletics and being an absolute bitch ass Queen Bee, literally LIVED for the social life and partying and living it up- which is where he started drinking heavily and experimenting w hard drugs, even starting to deal with some of his friends in his final years

after high school it was talk of school - university, college, whatever, - he even almost ended up in teacher’s college bc he really had no idea what to do until he eventually realized he could concentrate his two passions into one job; art and pissing off his dad. and lo, he became a tattoo artist.

PERSONALITY / HEADCANONS

confident gay meme but hes bi

doesn’t have any neutral opinions abt anything; either a hater or a lover thank u , next

likes to PUNCH THINGS to a) stay in shape b) make money (ie actual street fighting) and c) to put some of all that anger and energy to use uwu pls punch him if u feel so inclined

likes: irish coffee, carrying cash bc he doesnt “trust” banks, not treating wounds properly bc he thinks the scars make him look cool, leather jackets, the sound of a healthy motorcycle revving up, his secret skin care routine, jogging everyday at dawn

dislikes: swimming (he doesnt know how and hes actually scared of water :( uwu), NOT fucking on the daily, getting punched in the face bc thats his money maker, people ASSUMING shit abt him, citrus fruits, romance movies

he is Big Sexy ™ and very gross

sleeps on a mattress on the ground bc he think it kinda looks cool

basically tries to come off as a lot tougher than he is when really he’s quite soft and loves a lot idk

#tws:#drug mention #alcohol mention #∘⡊ ☾ ˚⊹haha worm // out of character⊹#camp;intro

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tvshowfreak · 5 years

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2,4

2. How did you discover your sexuality, tell your story?

Sooo, I started discovering and acknowledging my sexuality when I was around 14-15, tho thinking back I was already pretty gay as a kid, I was only hanging out with boys and all the boys were in love with Océane, the prettiest girl of the class, and so was I 😂Didn’t seem that crazy when I was 7 😂 But anyhooo I really started figuring out that I liked girls around 15, I just thought girls looked beautiful, always, and then I fell in love with one which obviously was a big nudge 😂It was your classic high-school straight girl crush but boy was it powerful. From then on I could only just picture myself being in a relationship with a girl. It’s like whatever boy crush I might have had in the past was completely disenchanted because what I felt for girls was just 1000% more powerful. That’s also during that time that I discovered tumblr and shipping and it helped me a lot to come to terms with my sexuality, like A LOT.

4. Who was the first person you told, how did they react?

The first person I told was my dad, when I was 16. He’s my best friend, so for him to know had almost become a necessity to me because I was drowning keeping this secret. I told him on new years eve, in the kitchen while waiting for appetizers to be cooked in the oven 😂I had been feeling like shit for weeks cause I was struggling with being in love for the first time and obviously for it to be with a girl, so he knew something was up cause I’m usually not that broody 😂He had asked me before what was wrong on a few occasions but I never really answered, but for some reason he decided to try again that night. So he started asking me again what was wrong, if it was about school, if I was being bullied, if it was because of my grades, which had turned into crap that year, if it was because of my friends... I answered no to all of these. Then he asked if it was about love, dun dun dunnnnnn... I nodded 😂Then the torture started “is he taken?” “no” “is he older?” “nope” “is he married?” “no” “is it a teacher?” “nope” “Is is a girl?” *anxious and shy nod* 😂😂 Once I nodded he made a face that said “ohh so that’s that.”, it’s almost like he felt sorry for me, not because it was a girl, but because obviously I was having a hard time with it. Then he said the classic cliché sentence you don’t wanna hear “maybe it’s a phase” , but you could tell he was saying it to try to comfort me more than anything else. At that point I was crying, so he just hugged me and told me that everything was gonna be alright, and then the alarm of the oven rang and my sister came down so we didn’t have a chance to talk anymore about it. We actually didn’t talk about it at all for the next 2 months or so, which was kinda pissing me off cause it felt like I hadn’t say anything, like he wasn’t acknowledging it or something. After a while it pissed me off so much that I did a second coming out, in the car, while coming back from my grandmas, I couldn’t hold it in, I just blurred out “I’m gay!” and started sobbing, this time not because I was ashamed but because I needed the recognition, I needed it so bad. Poor guy didn’t know what was happening and why I was having a breakdown, and said a little bit panicked but half laughing “yeah I know you told me already” 😂We talked about it some more when I stopped crying and he let me know that he loves me no matter what and that he’ll be happy to get a third daughter when I get married 🤧🤧

#ask #about me

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vicescfvirtues-blog · 6 years

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♡ ♡ ♡ hello !! my name is cal ( 19, she/her, pst ) and i am so so so excited to be here. i’ve never played multiple characters at once so this will be an adjustment for me but i just had so much muse for these three. there’s emo hippie dakota sinclair, emo binch marilyn reid, and emo twerp quentin munro. i’m so eager to plot so feel free to hit me up any time ! a brief description of each of my bbs is beneath the cut. ( warning : it’s a MESS but pls love me anyway ) tw — substance abuse, death

DAKOTA

☆— { timothee chalamet, 22, cismale } hey there, dakota sinclair, i’ve had my eye on you. i see you making your way down the streets of golden acres and everyone there thinks that you’re gregarious & sanguine, but i know that you’re really idealistic & stoic. you remind me of ripped skinny jeans, a dripping wet paintbrush, fingertips dancing across steel strings. and even though you’re just a university student, i know the truth about you. i know that you’re only engaged to a female to hide the fact that you’re gay. but don’t worry, it’ll be our little secret if you play by my rules

dakota was one of katherine’s brothers! there was a 5 year age difference between them so they weren’t sUUper close but they weren’t hostile towards each other. she was 13 when he left the house, prior to that he’d always let her use his guitar (hey, they could afford new ones if she broke it) or try to teach her how to play. he’s not a very argumentative person so he didn’t often fight with his siblings, he was very obedient and calm with his parents. now dakota is very ignorant, he was born with a silver spoon and has no idea how life is for the other side. he’s not judgmental but he’s in his own bubble, focusing on his aesthetics and whatnot. he’s, of course, extremely shaken ad saddened by katherine’s death. it feels unreal, as he’s never really had anything such as traumatic happen to him ( aside from the whole pushing his sexuality deeeeep down ). here is his profile.

MARILYN

☆— { alexandra daddario, 32, cisfemale } hey there, marilyn reid, i’ve had my eye on you. i see you making your way down the streets of maple lane and everyone there thinks that you’re conscientious & sagacious, but i know that you’re really phlegmatic & cynical. you remind me of a pen rapidly tapping against a table, the smell of money, and the sound of knuckles cracking. and even though you’re just a detective, i know the truth about you. i know that you’re losing your ability to investigate properly on account of your substance abuse. but don’t worry, it’ll be our little secret if you play by my rules

E D I T : marilyn moved from Colorado to rosehollow when she was seven due to a job opportunity for her father. being the new kid, gangly and always with her nose in a book, she was an easy target for bullies. her parents were affectionate, but they were clear that she would not be spoiled because she was an only child; she would be a hard-worker. although it wasn’t their intention, this, along with the lack of friends, led to a very lonely childhood for marilyn. she had dreams of leaving rosehollow and finally finding happiness. she’d had crushes on both genders throughout her life, but she never questioned herself ( her family wasn’t particularly religious or bigoted ). arguably her most intense crush was on one of the it-girls, shanley. though they were practically from two different worlds, she was smitten with her and not exactly very subtle about it. there was an automatic chemistry when they’d been placed as chemistry partners. once shanley actually revealed the feeling was mutual, marilyn was on cloud 9. but as time passed, marilyn’s jealousy increased and she could no longer tolerate their unique situation. they didn’t end in the best place, and after graduation, marilyn left rosehollow for university, finally achieving her dream. she filtered in and out of her hometown to check on her parents as they got older, they loved all the little suburban town had to offer. she works mainly in augusta but was placed on the case due to her many years in the town. her use of cocaine and adderall is recreational ( but still enough to ruin her career and reputation ). her first usage of the substances was at 29 during a party outing when she was in a polyamorous relationship. though she’s since left them, she still uses the drugs when she needs energy. here is her profile

QUENTIN

☆— { miles heizer, 20, cismale } hey there, quentin munro, i’ve had my eye on you. i see you making your way down the streets of willow creek and everyone there thinks that you’re stoic & vehement, but i know that you’re really impetuous & recalcitrant. you remind me of dirty sneakers, exhaling smoke through chapped lips, and a pie in the face as a prank. and even though you’re just a busboy at the rosebud diner, i know the truth about you. i know that you’re planning to rob a golden acres home. but don’t worry, it’ll be our little secret if you play by my rules

quentin is the second oldest of five children. they don’t all share the same father (quentin himself is the result of an affair), but that doesn’t matter to them. quentin is the one who takes care of his younger siblings because his mother is physically ill ( and addicted to painkillers, but we won’t talk about that . . . ) and his older brother ditched them to be “successful”. quentin works extremely hard and often, having gotten his first job at 14 to be able to help feed his family, but it never feels like it’s enough. he’s been stealing from businesses since he was a teenager, food and basic necessities they can’t afford. as they all grow, so do their wants and needs, so he’s considering escalating from petty shoplifting. though he doesn’t care what the people of rosehollow think of him ( he believes those from golden acres are all snobs anyway ), he knows his siblings depend on him and he can’t risk losing them by going to prison. fortunately, his life isn’t totally engulfed by stress. he finds solace in his group of friends, even if he isn’t the best at expressing love. of course he knows about the murder, but he’s too involved in his own shit to really care about it. here is his profile.

#slashhq:intro #my excitement is palpable

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aiweirdness · 7 years

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Disney songs, sung by a neural network with a very short memory

I train neural networks, which are a type of computer program that try to learn to copy human things by looking at examples. By giving them just a list of names and no further instructions, I can get neural networks to invent names for paint colors, guinea pigs, craft beers, and more.

The way I set up a neural network will control how well it does at its task. One important parameter I can control is the length of its memory. Let’s see what happens when I make its memory really, really short.

Dory Image spiced up by Neural net-generated deep dream

Here’s why memory is important for a neural network: As it’s generating the letters of new words, it’s looking at the letters it has already generated, trying to figure out what comes next. If it can look back over several words or even sentences, it will be more memory-intensive to run than a neural network that can only see a couple of words at a time, but it will also be better at learning long phrases.

Here’s how this plays out when I train a neural network to write lyrics to Disney songs.

I started with a list of 224 Disney songs from a lyrics dataset posted by GyanendraMishra on Kaggle, about 8200 lines in all.

50 character memory

At first, the neural network had a modest memory length of 50 characters - that is, 50 letters. Its view of the dataset, and of the text it generates, looks something like the this:

ow you the world Shining, shimmering, splendid Tel

Humans who know the “I can show you the world” song from Aladdin can probably recognize this bit and fill in what comes next. The neural network can work with this too. It memorizes whole lines of songs, although it sometimes jumps between different songs - I’ve built a small degree of randomness into its choice of which letters to use next so it doesn’t always go with its top choice.

A whole new world (A whole new world) A new fantastic point of view No one to tell us no Or where we will live Oh so surprise Every time to spare Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow, let it snow, let it snow, let it snow But I couldn't do that it's all around the sun With all the colors of the wind Can you paint with all the colors of the wind Can you paint with all the colors of the wind Can you paint with all the colors of the wind Can you paint with all the colors of the wind Can you paint with all the colors of the wi

You’ll notice that it tends to get stuck on certain repetitive lines - that’s because those lines repeat in the original dataset, so the neural network learns that one “paint with all the colors of the wind” line is followed by a second. What it doesn’t know, however, is how many “colors of the wind” lines it’s already seen at a given point. Its view of these lines at any given time is something like:

paint with all the colors of the wind Can you pain

And it has no idea whether to move on to the next line, or to keep singing the same one. Usually, like Dory, it just keeps singing.

20 character memory

With less than half the memory that it had before, the neural net is struggling a little harder. Its view of the training data looks something like:

ow you the world Shi

It still can memorize phrases (it can spell supercalifragilisticexpialidocious like a champ), but now gets lost and jumps between songs more easily. It tends to string together songs with some similarity, so Heigh-Ho (we dig dig dig dig dig dig dig in our mine the whole day through) gets mixed up with drip drip drop little April shower, and Mama Odie’s song from Princess and the Frog (you gotta dig). And once it starts singing Heigh-ho, Heigh-ho, it basically doesn’t stop.

A new fantastic point of view No one to tell us no Or where to go Or say in the wood Is the savage one is mine! We dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig up with your pretty little song Greatest are seppation for you You paint with your pretty little song Gay little song right The savage one is way to sing with your pretty little song It's gonna be a change Shake you are the sky is cloudy You gotta dig Choir: (dit) Mama Odie: Dig and dig and diggety-dig Heigh-ho, heigh-ho Heigh-ho, Heigh-ho Heigh-ho hum Heigh-ho, heigh-ho Heigh-ho, heigh-ho...

10 characters

A memory this short is seriously unfair to give a neural network that’s trying to learn whole phrases. That line from Aladdin now looks something like:

ow you the

But it does its best.

[Troy] If you say that must be true When you leave the world and the same place in the sky You can fly You can fly You can fly You can fly You can fly You can fly When you're staring straight back at me? Why a true!! We're breaking free. [Troy] Oh the most wonderful time of the year Winnie the Pooh Willy nilly silly old bear Winnie the Pooh, Winnie the Pooh Willy nilly wearing, when you're welcome, she's going the bare necessities of life will come to you I've been searching to find the bare necessities of the wind I've seement her dont and bring you can fly You can fly You can fly You can fly You can fly You can fly You can fly You can fly

5 characters

Evil laughter. It’s honestly a surprise that a neural network with a 5-character memory can manage to function at all.

ow yo

That’s what the line from Aladdin looks like now. This what the neural network has to work with. This is what songs are to it now.

It attempts “Under the Sea” or possibly “Part of Your World” from The Little Mermaid.

Wish the sky What's the street too I wonder the sea Under the sea Under the sea Under the sea she wants to dreamed to me Un the shore here where the world in by me about the river bend I wanna be so far I could be to place I'll see it there to start And the shore shore Underer the sea When the sea Under the sea Under the sea Under the sea

It is going to try to be king. Or a wolf.

I've been in the sun It's longing with a s This, dilly, dilly sofver who do it once a smiling A whole new world to the told me so If think with you And I wonderful from the wolf cry to the blue corn mountain This where who one souls So be king So good in a staring as the beginning with your cat I'll never thing thing the start A whole new world with new the wolf cry to the tole on the otter that the same That down tomb told me so I'll be king, dilly, dilly dain ine told me soy And I'll never paint with new world with all the colors of the cores the sun I'll be king Oh, so chue the wolf cry to the colors of the beginning with your to I wanna be king is the wolf cry to the storm to tell your corn who want the roll me soy I'll never seen the blue here, and the chain as old as the sun start And I'm fine I'll try I'll try

It has a seriously metal-sounding version of Beauty and the Beast.

Something to the beast And and the beast The door When the beast The door When will bare necessities The beast When the most wonderful time to spart of the house your learn and black as the sun And the beast Tale as old as time Song as old as rhyme Beauty and be soul It's the sun We're only friends and the door When will sell you see her fleight and and bring about your heart don't say a way the most wonderful time of the time of the shock The beast And a secret, winnie the Pooh Willy all the same I saw There'll be you feel the Hokey the beast

And then it rears up, gathers all its neurons, and flounces out an impressive:

Birdriillagilisticexpialidocious

Want more strange songs from this last neural network? It really likes to do metal versions of Beauty and the Beast. Become a supporter of AI Weirdness to get them as bonus content.

Want to help with neural network experiments? For NaNoWriMo I’m crowdsourcing a dataset of novel first lines, after the neural network had trouble with a too-small dataset.

Go to this form (no email necessary) and enter the first line of your novel, or your favorite novel, or of every novel on your bookshelf. You can enter as many as you like. At the end of the month, I’ll hopefully have enough sentences to give this another try.

#neural networks #char-rnn #disney #disney songs #beauty and the beast #memory #dory

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