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fa-by · 3 years

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warning this is big. just to clarify. i’m not a hater nor a shipper. i just happen to be a part of this fandom for a very long time, and i luckily witnessed many stuff back in the 5H days. i came across one of your posts about the laucy storyline and how it’s supposed to be a fake relationship and i can’t help but thinking, why do you skip so many parts of the story? like i get that y’all have certain opinions about this thing being a coverage for camila and lauren’s relationship but why do you skip so many important details which could validate lauren’s feelings towards lucy? just to be a little more specific back in 2015 when lucy reunited with lauren after the incident, before the rumors of their relationship even started, i remember lauren reblogging many shit on tumblr about long distance relationships and how distance means nothing if you truly love someone. of course at that time when laucy as a ship wasn’t even a thing, camren shippers obviously connected these posts to camila but now that we know the story as told by lauren it makes sense that most of these reblogs were about lucy since they were rarely together due to lauren moving around all the time. thus i don’t know if you remember but again in 2015 there was this girl who went to the same school as lucy and admitted that lauren and lucy used to date in middle school, also i think around that time someone posted that photo of lauren and lucy in sociology class if i’m not mistaken . and mind you that all these were before all these laucy rumors gained attention. it was mostly curiosity that led all these lauren girls and camren shippers to find out more about lucy and what part she played in lauren’s life. now with all this added information to your timeline, my question to you is what could possibly stop lauren and lucy from having a fling from 7th grade to lucy’s moving in 2012? i mean lauren might’ve said that she fell in love with her best friend at 15 but she also said that she had an on and off relationship with her for years and many hookups until she finally came to terms with her feelings. so what doesn’t fit here? lauren and lucy could’ve started messing around at 12 until 15 years old and only when lucy left for puerto rico lauren realised she had feelings for her. oh and also i don’t know why you guys keep pushing that narrative but lauren and camila were not best friends in 2012, maybe they did later on but certainly not in 2012. sure they became really close due to x factor but it is impossible for them to become best friends over a few months of knowing each other, like do you guys meet someone and immediately call them your best friend after only a few months of knowing each other? how can you put so much trust in someone over four or five months of knowing them in order to call them your best friend? even lauren herself referred to camila as a very good friend of hers, not best friend. my point is, lauren and lucy had an actual background whilst camila and lauren didn’t, which is why i do believe that lauren had an actual relationship with lucy. and one more thing, maybe i don’t believe that camila was romantically involved with lauren but that doesn’t mean i think she’s straight. hell no. lastly i didn’t come here with the intention to change your opinion about camila and lauren’s relationship, but i did want to remind shippers some things they tend to ignore just to validate a ship which in my opinion is non existent.

I had already answered this ask up here with this post https://fa-by.tumblr.com/post/655883320751702016/for-the-anon-lucy-shipper-who-sent-me-that-long, but whoever sent it to me wasn't satisfied with the answer and sent me another one (which you'll find later in this post). Now I'm speaking directly to you, Anon.

So, let's start with the first one. Let's go in order piece by piece since in the second ask you said that I didn't answer any of your arguments:

- “I'm not a hater nor a shipper” You're not a hater nor a shipper, yet you're here in my blog, a CS blog, to talk and to not so low-key support Laucy. That's why I mentioned you in that way in my last post.

- “why do you skip so many parts of the story?” As I mentioned in the last post, I didn't skip anything important.

- “y'all have certain opinions”. We CS? Why do you first speak in the plural and then only speak to me if you're only talking to me in the first place? I hope that now that I've pointed this out to you, you've realized how that y’all sounds, not a hater nor a shipper Anon.

- “i remember lauren reblogging many shit on tumblr about long distance relationships and how distance means nothing if you truly love someone. of course at that time when laucy as a ship wasn’t even a thing, camren shippers obviously connected these posts to camila but now that we know the story as told by lauren it makes sense that most of these reblogs were about lucy since they were rarely together due to lauren moving around all the time” /// “Now that we know the story as told by Lauren”. Exactly. As told by Lauren, aka the fake story they've been trying to get her to sell for years. Story for a cover. Story full of flaws that don't add up and will never add up in the stories they're gonna declare. Story that precisely for this reason, is and will be modified more and more in order to adapt perfectly to the Camren one to explain and give a sense also of the songs. Story proven over and over again to be PR with real proofs. If you want to believe those reblogs were for Lucy, it's your choice, Anon. I'm certainly not gonna tell you that you can't believe in what you want. Everyone is free to believe in what they want and have their own opinion.

- “thus i don’t know if you remember but again in 2015 there was this girl who went to the same school as lucy and admitted that lauren and lucy used to date in middle school”. So let me get this straight, you just happen to be a part of this fandom for a very long time, and you luckily witnessed many stuff back in the 5H days but you don't know how many people have invented things to get attention and how many others got involved for distribute bullshit for the narrative? You say you were there, and you don't know that this was part of the rumors (not only on L, but also on C and the other girls) that were proven wrong so much so that this information was also removed from the internet? And you say you were there? But more importantly, you prefer to believe something you read (which was even debunked) without a shred of proof just because it validates what you believe? You prefer believing a person who said she knew them just for the attention and who didn't even live in Miami? Ahh. Okay then. It's your choice. But what about what someone who really was in Lauren's circle said? Someone who really knew them and went to school with them (and who, to me, didn't act like a friend in that case)?

You didn't believe her, did you? Of course not. Because it didn't validate what you believe in.

- “also i think around that time someone posted that photo of lauren and lucy in sociology class if i’m not mistaken . and mind you that all these were before all these laucy rumors gained attention”. Regarding the picture, I already proven to you in the last post that it was exactly to get attention and that it was during the PR.

- “Now with all this added information”. I'm sorry, what information? You mean the things I've proven to you to be false or you mean your opinions which are just opinions that actually prove nothing?

- “my question to you is what could possibly stop lauren and lucy from having a fling from 7th grade to lucy’s moving in 2012?”. Oh, let's see. Maybe the fact that she was still young and only in middle school started to realize that she liked girls, but she understood it 100% only later during high school? [If you read my post like you say you did, then you know how I think it really went between them. And this connects to that] Maybe the fact that having gone to those kinds of Catholic schools and having a believing family, she had: “I had homophobia deeply ingrained into my system”? Maybe the fact that “The girls in my social realm, if they even thought you were gay, you were ridiculed beyond belief”? Maybe the fact of how she was mocked at school because she was too confident, too sincere, and too honest, and people didn't like that and therefore that was one of the reasons why she thought there was something wrong with her and that she had to suppress this part of herself because she really wanted to integrate so much? Maybe the fact that one of her irrational fears still today is what other people think of her? Maybe the fact that she's always been a people pleaser and wanted people to like her because she couldn't accept that people despised her? Maybe the fact that wanting to adapt and consequently having to suppress herself, obviously also included her being queer? Maybe the fact that she didn't want to be a disappointment to her family, friends, acquaintances at school, and even God since she'd been inculcated with these ideas of not being a sinner and an abomination since she was a child? Not to mention that “from 7th grade” is impossible because Lauren hadn't even given her first kiss yet.

I hope you know that these are not my opinions or theories but words that came out of her mouth on more than one occasion. Although I don’t know if that’s validated enough for you. I mean, I'm still a little bit confused, you know? I’m still trying to figure out because, apparently, your opinions count as proofs and are validated for you, but the actual proofs aren't, right?

- “i mean lauren might’ve said that she fell in love with her best friend at 15 but she also said that she had an on and off relationship with her for years and many hookups until she finally came to terms with her feelings. so what doesn’t fit here?”. Oh, let's see. Everything she said about her that doesn't match her at all but that does match Camila? Even just the fact that she said how much she loved the part of Lucy that was so confident about who she really was when Lucy herself even lately said the exact opposite by automatically debunking everything Lauren said. Or the simple fact that Laur said she'd been in love with her all those years but broke up with her only a little over a month after they were official to get together with Ty. I mean, what?? Who does something like that if they were truly in love?

I've already explained this, but I will repeat it. How can you have been in love with someone for so many years, broke up with them because they were a toxic person, and immediately get together with an even more toxic person without having the proper time to heal? Without taking the time for yourself to lick your wounds, grow up, be ready again to throw yourself out there, and eventually find a better person to be in a relationship with? How? Simple. Because they were both fake relationships. The timing they wanted to tell is not credible. None of what they've said is believable, and luckily, there's also enough evidence to prove it so these are not opinions and theories.

Not to mention that Lucy had two relationships during and after her PR with Laur (2016 Sarah Scott Narcise, before dating Nicole Marie Rendón in March 2017).

So, yes, Anon. You asked a super right question. “so what doesn't fit here?”. Lucy. Lucy is the one that doesn't fit here. Lucy is the answer. Laur is still obliged to make people believe that Lucy is the ONLY girl she's ever been in love with. Period. Without ifs and buts. It's up to you and anyone else to try to see the truth behind the lies they're forced to sell.

- “lauren and lucy could’ve started messing around at 12 until 15 years old”. Again. Impossible since she was 12, and for me, so just my opinion, not after meeting Camila. And certainly not from 2015 onwards because it was just for PR and there are actual proofs. Whether you want to believe it or not.

- “oh and also i don’t know why you guys keep pushing that narrative but lauren and camila were not best friends in 2012, maybe they did later on but certainly not in 2012. sure they became really close due to x factor but it is impossible for them to become best friends over a few months of knowing each other, like do you guys meet someone and immediately call them your best friend after only a few months of knowing each other? how can you put so much trust in someone over four or five months of knowing them in order to call them your best friend?” Again with the plural, Anon? They were always attached to each other hip, and not only during the X-Factor interviews and the episodes of the program itself, they were also outside of it. They were very but very often at each other's home. Their parents hanged out, with or without them. The two of them, DNA, and anyone who knew them, always said how quickly they became friends from the boot camp also thanks to the fact that they lived in the same city. There are billions of proofs around out there. And then, I'm sorry. I don't know your age and I don't know you, Anon, but I think you remember what it was like at that age. It's so much easier to become friends with someone and become attached to them precisely because you are that young.

And you forget one fundamental thing. You forget how different it was for them. You forget how they were five teenage girls basically alone against the world (despite their parents trying to be as present as possible) and how this made them even closer together. Not to mention that the two of them were the ones who had the most things in common and that this brought them even closer; not just Miami.

Your topic doesn't apply in this case, both because of their age and because of their particular circumstances. I would've been super in agreement with you if we were talking about two people who have just met in a more adult age and not in the middle of adolescence, and under more normal circumstances especially.

- “even lauren herself referred to camila as a very good friend of hers, not best friend”. Please tell me you didn’t actually mention something that came out of Laur’s lips about Mila and Lucy during that podcast? Please tell me you understood that she had to play a part? …at this point, I don't really know whether to laugh or be worried… You believe in Laucy and not in Camren because it makes more sense to you, okay. It's your choice. But please, tell me you can tell the difference between maneuvered Laur and genuine Laur? ……… You have to learn to recognize when she's following a script, Anon. I'm saying it for you. You're gonna need it, especially in the future.

- “maybe i don’t believe that camila was romantically involved with lauren but that doesn’t mean i think she’s straight. hell no”. We agree on something at least.

- “lastly i didn’t come here with the intention to change your opinion about camila and lauren’s relationship, but i did want to remind shippers some things they tend to ignore just to validate a ship which in my opinion is non existent” /// “i didn’t come here with the intention to change your opinion about camila and lauren’s relationship”. That's exactly what it looks like actually. Especially for someone who pointed out “I'm not a hater nor a shipper” as the first thing. How generous and thoughtful of you, not Laucy shipper, to come to a CS blog for wanting to try to remind us things already explained and proven just to validate a ship which in your opinion was more existent than Camren.

- “i did want to remind shippers some things they tend to ignore”. And you seem to want to ignore all the proofs there are there just because, and I quote what my girlfriend told me when I made her read your first ask: “as with the showmila shitshow, it's easier to believe it because everything is prepared to point people in that direction”. *Love u and your brain, mi amor 😍🥰😘*

Let's move on to the second ask now, shall we? Step by step again.

- “hey i was waiting for your reply. 1st of all as i said when i sent you that ask, i’m not a shipper lol. i couldn’t care less about ships”. You keep saying that you're not a shipper, but you do act like one and you're here again. You couldn’t care less about ships, but you're here! In a Camren Shipper blog! By reading posts about something you couldn't care less about. By sending asks about something you couldn't care less about, and even waiting for a reply. You don't see anything ironic or, I don't know, contradictory here?

- “i only want my fav to be happy with whoever the fuck she wants. idgaf if that person is camila or lucy or whoever”. You only want your fav to be happy with whoever the fuck she wants and you don’t give a fuck if that person is Camila or Lucy or.. Kris? No, wait. Ty? Is Ty okay? And what about Brad? Or maybe you’d prefer more fetuses? Luis? Keaton? Before all the PRs the fame? So, Paul (14/and just turned 15 years old)? Dominic (her first kiss at 13 in 8th grade)? Her first boyfriend for whom she was cyberbullied at the age of 11 in 6th grade by fake friends who created an entire Facebook page about her with pictures and calling her a slut just because she agreed to be his girlfriend? Or the kid she had a crush on in 4th grade in front of which she peed on herself and who, despite being obviously very embarrassing for her, became her little boyfriend the next day? I mean, I don't know the names of the last two, but they're okay, right? The important thing is that they're not Camila *Simon, is that you?* because you don't believe it, right? Oh no, wait. You said you couldn’t care less about ships. Shit, sorry. My bad.

- “but it really triggers me when you guys don’t value lauren’s words and boundaries”. Oh, wait, wait, wait, wait. So you're here because we- No, wait. Because I- No, wait. This plural when you're actually talking to me confuses me because it gives me the feeling that you're not only attacking me, but all the rest of the CS as well when in reality you should know that we're all different. Plus, you're on my blog. But anyway. Let me try again. So you're here because I don't value Laur's words and boundaries? You mean the narrative's words and boundaries? And besides that, loving and respecting her both as an artist and above all as a person, and following her on social media without ever bothering her, never, not even with a single comment, makes me someone who doesn't value Laur's words and boundaries? ME? Me, who has ‘scolded’ all those who do it? Me, who always says to be respectful and to be kind and spread kindness at the end of almost all my posts? Me, who chose Tumblr on purpose because it's not like the other social networks at all? Me, who doesn't even want my posts to come out of here? 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 Ahh, okay.

Did you know that before some mutuals helped me with the situation, I was about to leave Tumblr precisely because that first post of mine ended up on Twitter? Did you know that I was pissed off because not only did they post it without permission, but because there was the link that led here (even though it was a mutual's blog) and my initial as a signature? Yeah, you read it right. It was only the initial of my name, yet, I didn't want and still don't want to be involved in any way publicly. You don't even know me, yet you dare to judge without knowing? Oh and, please. Don't come after by saying that you weren't referring to me and that you were just generalizing because even if it were true, I repeat, this is my blog and you're talking to me.

- “secondly i really don’t know why you didn’t post my ask like you did with everyone else and just chose to refer to me as a lucy shipper and proceeded to talk about what i said without context. and lastly i really don’t get what point you’re trying to prove with your post about my ask because you legit didn’t reply to any of my arguments” /// “i really don’t know why you didn’t post my ask like you did with everyone else”. Wanna know why? I did it because my very first post already answers the whole Laucy situation by itself. And above all, believe it or not, I did it for you. I did it to avoid all this. But you insisted, and now here we are.

Oh and, I explained why I called you Laucy shipper at the beginning of this post.

- “you simply corrected me on a random date of a photo i mentioned”. A random date, yeah, right. So random, that you wanted to use it as proof. A proof that, now that you know it's useless, you're diminishing it because you no longer need it to prove your point which, forgive me, what exactly is it? You know, with all the contradictions you said from the beginning, I got a little lost.

Why are you even here, Anon? Why are you so pressed for something you said you don't give a fuck about? Why send me two asks and insist so much on a ship you ‘don't give a fuck about’, but at the same time say that you’re not a shipper when you clearly are? Don't you see all the contradictions?

- “about your tunnel post i read it like a hundred times, it still doesn’t invalidate any of the points i made on my previous ask, it just contains a variety of dates which basically prove nothing about your ship being real”. You read it like a hundred times and despite this, you're telling me that proves nothing about my ship being real when the post wasn't even about Camren? Are you for real? Well, after all, you've read it like a hundred times and despite the proofs, you still believe that Laucy was real, so, what could I expect? But anyway. I already told you in the last post, but you evidently didn't understand, so I'll tell you again in a different way so maybe it's clearer. There is a light at the end of the tunnel is a post about Laucy's PR. It's not about or proves Camren like you said. It's a reminder I wrote after that podcast that's about and proves the bullshit they've said and will continue to say to make people believe their narrative.

You don't think Laur and Mila have ever been together? Okay. Amazing. But that's your opinion. You want to continue believing in Laucy? Great. Perfect even. But it's your choice. It doesn't concern me. Especially when there's real proofs around and not opinions. I thought it already was, but I hope it’s clearer now that I don’t care who you ship and who you don’t. “The world is beautiful because it's varied”, says a proverb of my country. You can come back here a hundred more times, but you won't change my mind, especially if you keep coming back here with just opinions and empty proofs. Oh and, of course, it's mutual. Nobody's pointing a gun to your head. As I've always said, everyone’s free to think what they want.

So, my rhetorical question now is, what purpose are you really here for, Anon? You justified yourself in the first ask by saying that you're not here to change our minds when it was exactly for that, and even though I answered you with that first post, you've come back once again. Why? What's the point? You saw that you failed in your intent and continued because you want some drama? Because you're bored? Because you wanted to start a discussion? Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not the kind of person who promotes this kind of things. I'm not a fan of attack and hate in all its forms. If I had been, I would've joined Twitter a lot of years ago. I, for real, don't give a fuck about all that shit.

Rhetorical question n°2: Have I or haven't I answered all your arguments now?

Have a good day wherever you are, not a hater nor a shipper Anon. For real, I'm not a petty person.

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angrylizardjacket · 4 years

Text

fit by my side {Machine Gun Kelly}

@bitchylittleredhead said: Okay I hear your MGK x pastel!reader and I raise you MGK x Mother Nature!reader. Hella plants, strong love for animals, heckin soft, v kind, mom friend, sunshine child. (I just really really love soft paired with him, it’s so damn cute) also I love you I hope you are well 🧡

Also This Concept

A/N: 3177 words. Gender Neutral Reader (they/them) ! im worried kells is OOC. also there’s no smut but it does get M rated, but there’s no genitals specified. gets quite sappy at times. also @url-under-construction i hope u like it and i hope its good.

----

When you meet Colson, he’s famous, but he’s not, you know, famous famous. You meet on the set of The Dirt; he’s one of the stars, you’re a production assistant and stand-in when they need it, and you don’t think for a second that he’ll even remember your name when this is all over.

But he does; in rehearsals, you’re the one reading the lines for the characters they haven’t cast yet, and the first time the four main cast members see you, in your floaty, floral top, and your gentle aura, and then to hear you say, with absolute sincerity, ‘your mom’s a cunt’, it has them bursting out laughing. You smile, sweet and kind, and you step gently through the blocking that has the character you’re currently standing in for, stabbing Tommy - Colson - with a pen.

Maybe the juxtaposition of you taking part in this whole production is what intrigues him.

When filming starts, you’re still around, and something about seeing you, amid this performance of debauchery, and yet you’re still sincere and gentle, your choice of attire making you stick out like a sore thumb amid the leather and grime. At first, he tries to play it off, that you look somewhat out of place and it’s eye-catching, but you bring the cast food and water and whatever they need, you go on coffee runs, and take a genuine interest in each of them, and by the time he realises that his mood lifts every time he walks on set and sees you there, he knows he can’t play it off as you catching his eye for completely platonic reasons.

He asks you out the week after Casie leaves from visiting set, having seen you interact with her, entertain her while Colson was in hair, treating her with just as much kindness and respect as you did everyone else on the production. It convinces him that your intentions are true, and he knows that he can’t finish this production without shooting his shot.

By the time the wrap party comes around, you’re calling him your boyfriend, at first tentative, looking to him for confirmation, but then you see the way he beams at how the words sound when you say them, and you grow more confident each time you say it.

It’s met with... confusion.

Really?

It seems no-one saw that coming - if anyone, I would have expected Douglas - you hear, and frown.

“What does that mean?” You ask; a frown is rare to see on your face, but you’re wearing it anyhow, and the woman your speaking to splutters her way around a sentence as she’s trying to backpeddle.

“I just- I mean, well, Kells - Colson - he’s so... Doulgas just seems more... refined? Not that Colson not, you know- you’re just -”

“I’m just what?” You ask, not accusing, more curious than anything else, and the woman’s voice dies in her throat as she looks you over; pale blue jeans and a pastel, patterned button-down that would have looked right at home in the eighties.

“I’m just concerned for you,” she eventually says, laying her hand on yours like she’s trying to do you a favour, “Colson’s intense, I’m just worried you’ll get hurt.” You see what she’s trying to say, but her tone is so painfully condescending.

“I’m an adult,” you tell her, tone understanding but firm, “and I appreciate your concern, but I promise I can take care of myself.”

The moment you can get out of the conversation, you find Colson, talking animatedly to one of the makeup artists, and you slot yourself into the space by his side. Automatically, without even stopping the conversation, he wraps his arm around you and pulls you close, and you gratefully take the moment to press your face against him, wrapping your arms around him without saying a word. It’s both strangely intimate and familiar, his thumb rubbing small circles against your side.

As he stops talking, there’s a lull, and you don’t have to look up to know the makeup artist is giving you both a strange look.

“Ignore me,” your voice is muffled against him, using one hand as if to waive off any last bits of hesitation.

“They’re fine,” Colson assured, tapping you on the hip. He’s still oozing casual confidence

You’ve been together for almost half of filming, which isn’t exactly a short amount of time, but usually you try and keep things professional on set, so it’s nice to be able to be close to him in public.

The rest of the cast know, of course, you’ve been out with them on several occasions, and they all have come to adore you just as much as you adore them. Something about hearing Daniel drunkenly assure you that if Colson ever hurts you, that there’d be a line of people ready to slap some sense into him. You try to brush him off, endeared by his drunken affection, but he turns suddenly to the rest of the cast.

“Hey, hey, hey - who’d throw down for Y/N?” He asks; without hesitation, Douglas, Iwan, and Colson raise their hands, eyes wide and alert, as if the offer needed to be acted upon immediately. The show of support has your heart swelling in your chest.

You find yourself fitting into his life back in LA easily; while beginning work as an assistant on a Netflix original series, you call into his house in the Hollywood Hills, delighted to be privy to demos and snippets from his next album.

And you meet his friends, shake their hands and smile and chatter with them. They’re not sure what to make of you at first, no-one really is when you present yourself in conjunction with Colson, but soon they start to see what he sees in you. It’s endearingly genuine and thoughtful and honest and enthusiastic and -

“They’re like sunshine,” it’s Rook’s Instagram live, almost six months into your relationship with Colson, that really cements it to the public. Rook is smoking in Colson’s living room in the middle of the afternoon between recording sessions, and someone asked what your deal was.

“I’m so sick of - and I know Kells is, and Y/N too, not that they’d ever say anything. ‘ve never heard them say a bad word ‘bout anyone, you know,” Rook hits the blunt again, his face scrunching up, “but everyone ‘round here’s so fuckin’ sick of people talkin’ shit ‘bout ‘em. For real, Y/N is sunshine, nicer than all of you motherfuckers put together,” and he laughs, but it’s clear he isn’t entirely joking, “- you know what?” He asked, eyes lighting up and standing abruptly, grabbing the phone.

“Baze, man, you seen Y/N?” He calls, and Baze responds from somewhere off-camera that you’re outside. The comments are going off, but he pays them no mind, heading out to the backyard, only to see you by the back fence, peering over into the trees, on your tip toes, one hand straining over the fence, in shorts and a singlet in sunshine yellow.

Rook calls your name.

You shush him loudly, and then, without looking at him, slowly wave him over.

As he approaches, he can hear the telltale sound of a bird chirping, and as soon as he gets close, he hears you whisper -

“I think they’re bluebirds,” you murmur, and finally look back at him, lowering yourself, surprised to see his phone held aloft. He tells you he’s live streaming, you wave awkwardly, which is when he sees the slice of banana you’re holding, “I’m not sure what they eat; do bluebirds eat banana?” You ask, a little helpless, looking at Rook, and then to his phone.

After a moment, you step aside, and gesture for Rook to take a look over the fence, and sure enough there’s a nest with a single, rather sad looking bluebird with it’s wing bent at a strange angle, calling out pathetically, obscuring a few eggs, just out of arm’s reach. While he’s looking over the fence, also trying to reach them, and also trying to get the phone close enough to see if anyone watching the livestream could identify the bird or offer any suggestion, he hears your footsteps retreating.

“Stay there, I’m going to get Kells,” you call out to him, voice bright, “he’s got long arms!” And Rook bursts out laughing; you weren’t wrong.

While waiting, he sits against the fence and answers a few more questions, until he looks up and sees you, expression concerned, and Colson uncharacteristically fond as he lets you lead him by the hand.

You show him the nest and ask for him to get it, worried the bird was hurt, and he obligingly reaches over the back fence to gently collect the bird nest, trying his best not to jostle the bird. The bird’s wing appeared to be broken, and Rook ends the live when you mention that you’re going to take the bird to the vet.

Already, the fandom is exploding from what had transpired.

People are making suggestions as to what the birds should be named, people are claiming your caring and sweet personality is completely fake, people in the live managed to screenshot Colson’s expression as you’d lead him to the birds, how smitten he was with his hand in yours, and have started posting ‘get u a man who looks at u like kells looks at y/n’ all over twitter and tumblr.

“Bird update!” Several hours later, Colson posts a series of videos to his instagram story, “for those of y’all who don’t know, Y/N found a bird with a broken wing in a tree out the back of my place, we rescued it and it’s eggs, and took it to the vet,” and with that he flips the camera around, from a close up on his face, to show a large, cardboard box in the corner of the room.

Peep Davidson was written in large, black letters on the side of the box.

The rest of the videos are outlining what the vet had told you all, and that the bird should only take about seven days to heal before you could put them all back into the wilderness.

At that, he pauses.

“You worried about putting the birds back when you saw that cat the other day?” And he angles the camera to reveal you, laying with your head in his lap.

“The orange one?” You ask, voice heavy, as if he’d disturbed you when you’d been right about to fall asleep. You yawn, and he confirms, you give a little, lazy shrug and smile, “not sure where that cat is.”

“Fuckin’ hell, babe,” Colson laughs, “you gotta stop finding random animals in my backyard.”

“They find me,” you counter, and shift so you can press your face against his belly, humming contentedly as his free hand begins stroking your back.

“Snow White-Cinderella-Pied Piper motherfucker,” how that is somehow the softest, most gentle words to ever leave his lips, is utterly baffling, but there’s so much love and adoration but you turn enough for the camera to catch your delighted little smile, “you’re-” he starts, “who’s that dude from that, that My Hero shit we were watching the other night?”

“Koji Koda, you weeb,” you tease him fondly, knowing exactly who he’s referring to, and that’s where the video ends.

That’s the day it’s confirmed for the rest of the world. There’s countless paparazzi photos, and hints, and speculation, but this is the first time he’d called you anything but your name, and they’d all seen you snuggling up to him, your head in his lap.

This also is the day the trend begins on his Instagram story of a photo of you, usually in his backyard, with whatever animal had decided to befriend you that day.

My partner. My backyard. No fucking idea who’s animal that is.

And he still goes out and gets fucked up, and sometimes you’re there, and sometimes you’re not. When you’re out together, it still doesn’t quite make sense; he’s hard partying and over the top, and it seems like it wouldn’t be your scene at all.

But then there’s photos of Colson and a few of his friends standing on the edge of a roof, announcing that they’re Kings, and you’re by his side, smiling and waving at the person taking the photograph. He manages to get himself injured pulling a stunt at a friend’s house party, but you’re in the back of some influencer’s vlog, straddling his lap with tissues in your hand, him holding you secure as you clean up the scrape on his forehead; it’s kind of sickening how in love he looks, as he watches the way you concentrate. When you notice his expression, your own softens, and you lean in to give him a kiss.

And so you start to make sense, but people still ask why.

So when asked, you tell people that you support each other, and challenge each other, and yeah, that’s absolutely why you’re together, but it’s not the whole reason as to why you make sense.

Because no-one sees the way you hook your finger into his belt loop at the back of his pants at the house party, and you press a kiss between his shoulder blades, and he knows exactly what that means. He’s quick to make some flimsy excuse to leave as you step into place by his side, which everyone he’s speaking to immediately sees through. You play at being flustered, tucking your embarrassed expression against him as he slings his arm around your shoulders, and calls an Uber.

The drive back to his place has you both on edge with anticipation, his hands all over you in the back of the car while you try to hold a civil conversation with the driver. It’s killing you not to give in, but you know it’s worth it.

“You’re such an idiot!” You announced, grinning from ear to ear the moment you get into the house, before the door’s even closed, and he slams it shut to press you against it. Kissing him feels like a cathartic release, but after a moment you shove him back, loudly admonishing him for taking part of a stunt that got him hurt.

“You could have been seriously hurt!” You keep poking him in the chest to punctuate your words, and he steps back each time, expression alight, pupils blown wide. He keeps reaching out, as if to touch you, to snag your clothes, like it’s a game when you smack his hand back every time.

“Got a gnarly cut though,” he pointed out, as his ass hits the kitchen island. His legs open, making space for you, and you step into it.

“Gnarly cut,” you murmur, tone surprisingly derisive, and you reach up to push his hair back from his forehead. His head tips back, leaning into your touch, the look on his face almost dreamy even as you’ve got a hand on his hips, pushing him back on the counter.

Then you’re in his lap on the counter, hand fisted in his hair, lips on his neck, leaving bruises and bite marks. He’s trying to get you naked, efficient and desperate, but the moment he gets your shirt off, you push the fruit bowl behind him onto the floor, and push him back against the granite countertop.

“You were worried about me,” he smirks up at you, admiring you with your hands planted either side of his head.

“Because you don’t worry about your damn self!”

“Ooh, breaking out damn tonight? Must be serious,” he teased, deliberately riling you up; he loved this side of you just as much as the sweetness. Instead of responding, you reach up under his shirt and rake your nails harshly down his chest and stomach, delighting in the way he arched up at the sudden sensation, eyes falling closed.

With one hand still flat against his belly, the other comes up to cup his jaw, gentle at first, before your fingers move to caress his throat, and you press yourself against him.

“If you get yourself killed, I’ll kick your ass,” you whisper, lips inches from his as you press firmer against his throat. He grins, and sighs, the sound content and syrupy and so fucking into it, leaning up, to meet your lips with his, to feel the pressure on his neck just a little more.

And you bite, and you scratch, and you ride him on the kitchen island. The location is new, but the situation isn’t; once he’d discovered the righteous, sexual fury you’d been bottling up, he’d been more than happy to let you unleash it on him. Not to say that he didn’t give as good as he got; there’s been several times he’s had you swearing a blue streak, seeing stars, desperate and blissed out in equal measure.

But then there’s your dominant moments, the mean streak, and the teasing, the sting of your nails and your teeth and the way you push him around, into the mattress, against the wall without hesitation, and that he covets. No-one else is allowed to see you like that. To be tied up or blindfolded or or punished or pushed around, at your mercy, it’s as close to Heaven as he’s ever felt on Earth, because he knows without a shadow of a doubt that your heart is kind, that you’d never really hurt him in a way he wouldn’t like.

You make him feel safe.

And it’s not just the sex, you��re never dismissive of ideas or suggestions, seemingly always ready to help if he ever needs it, rather than judgmental. It makes him want to be there for you too.

He wants to be better for you.

Which is kind of terrifying to consider.

“I love you,” he tells you in the shower, in the afterglow, soft, pausing where he had been washing your back where you couldn’t reach. It wasn’t the first time he’d said it, but he felt like he needed you to hear them.

“Love you too,” you say around a yawn, though the words are as genuine as they’d always been coming from you, and you lean back against him, leaning your head against his cheek in a moment of quiet intimacy. You try to kiss him like this, but turns your face directly into the shower, and end up spluttering and breaking the moment.

Colson chuckles softly, stepping back and pulling you with him, out of the stream of water and into his arms so he could kiss you properly. You’re still giggling as you’re wiping the water from your eyes, looking at him with fond adoration. When you settle your arms around him, you quiet down and bask in the moment, his forehead coming to rest against yours, warm and safe in his embrace, sensing that, in that moment, he felt the exact same way.

#mgk #machine gun kelly #mgk x reader #machine gun kelly x reader #machine gun kelly imagine #mgk imagine #colson baker #colson baker imagine #colson baker x reader #the dirt #the dirt cast #the dirt cast imagine #rook xx #douglas booth #daniel webber #iwan rheon #the angry lizard writes

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ellasadventuresinfandoms · 3 years

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Okay, back in May @isolatedphenomenon asked me if I had an les mis fic recs and I went "oh boy do I !" and then promptly fucked off and disappeared from tumblr for like 6 months...

Anyway on the off chance people are interested, here is my vastly too long list of my favourite les mis fanfic (that I'm almost 100% sure I'll have accidentally missed some of my favourites off of...)

The vast majority of these are main pairing Enjolras/Grantaire, so I've put those first, divided into multi-chaptered and then one-shots. Below that will be other pairings!

Multi-chaptered

• Witch Boy Series : magic AU, starting with Grantaire solving Enjolras' curse - this is just Incredible world building which gets better as it goes on - my favourite is the Babet interlude

• World Ain't Ready : you know how fandoms tend to have a fic that is just associated with it ? in my experience, for les mis this is it - and well deserved ! High school, fake dating AU with some of the most engaging writing

• BE : Enjolras is dragged back into theatre production, helping Eponine put on a production of Hamlet - really love the characterisation in this, and this is really one of those modern AUs that actually feels like real life - really good writing

• After the End : the definitive apocalypse AU in my eyes - les amis are an underground resistance to the dystopian government - really wonderful characterisation of Grantaire and the amis

• You never have to wonder; you never have to ask. : I tend to find fic by scrolling through bookmarks of a pairing, which means I often see repeats; this is a fic that if I see I just re-read cause I know I'll enjoy it - the amis sparked a failed rebellion, and now 18 months later Grantaire ends up staying at Enjolras' after returning to Paris for Marius and Cosette's wedding

• Your Heart on Your Skin : Soulmate AU with flower tattoos marking important emotions and events - wonderful concept and world building

• Impatient to Be Free : Daughters of Bilitis AU - if that doesn't make you excited I don't know what else to say to convince you (aside from saying the author is a simply wonderful writer)

• You Dance Dreams : Okay. Not to be over dramatic, but this fic did genuinely qualitatively change my life, in that it was the first thing that got me looking up contemporary ballet and now that's like one of my favourite things and big hobby So. Also its really great writing; music/creative arts school les amis with Grantaire choreohraphing the ballet for Combeferre's opera, with a heavy emphasis on Grantaire realising he really never actually got over Enjolras

• philia : this one is an absolute classic to me, but not given nearly enough recognition - one of the more realistic college AUs ever written, and the writing of Grantaire is so good because it hits the perfect balance of sympathy and annoyance about his behaviour (that's a genuine compliment)

• Coffee Hooligans : fucking tragedy this never got properly finished, Enjolras leads the amis as social justice vigilantes and tries to hide the criminal bits of his life from R

• Fighting the Hurricane : Pacific Rim AU that's less an AU and more just placing the les mis characters in the Pacific Rim universe. Really good and riveting read, also super interesting depiction of Grantaire

• Weaving Olden Dances : Fairy AU - Grantaire "claims" Enjolras to prevent his execution - really good writing, love Grantaires characterisation

• Paris Burning : canon era (sort of) where cities have a physical being - Grantaire is Paris and becomes entangled in Enjolras' revolution - oh the world building is truly *chefs kiss*

• Euphoria is You For Me : Enjolras and Grantaire keep meet cuting in a wonderfully written Brooklyn - feels like a love letter to Brooklyn at times, and I really like the characterisation of Grantaire

• so please just fall in love with me this christmas : Enjolras works for the environmental company Grantaire volunteers at, and keeps getting secret gifts at Christmas - I sound a little like a broken record but the Grantaire characterisation is very good

• You Are the Moon : Wild West esque Space AU - Grantaire has to call on the amis to help rescue Valjean and Cosette, despite Grantaire leaving the amis 6 months before. On re-reading the Enjolras characterisation feels a little rushed, but overall fantastic story telling and the Grantaire arc is a Delight

• Pandemos : Enjolras is aphrodite, and seeks peace from all his suitors in R/Hephestus' cave

• Pining for You : Hallmark christmas romance - Grantaire returns home to work on his father's tree farm, and Enjolras is the lawyer helping prevent the farm being sold - cute as shit imo

• Once We're Kings : Fantasy AU - a country hosts a ball to marry Prince Enjolras and the rival country sends Grantaire as a fuck you - one of the best ways of doing Enjolras as a prince in a fantasy and just really nicely written

• Never Bitter and All Delicious : Fairy Godmother AU - yes really, yes its genuinely a very good read

• On One Condition : Fantasy AU - Enjolras is a bored knight who finally goes to check out the local dragon, which turns out to be Grantaire - I really like how they capture Enjolras' stubborn nature and it's such a well written soft growth of love between them

• That's How Easy Love Can Be : Les Amis work at a primary school; and its secret santa time! very fun portrayal of Enjolras

• The Lark and Her Lieutenants : re write of canon where Cosette is the leader of the revolution - just *chefs kiss*

• If You Tickle Us, Do We Not Laugh : Grantaire is Enjolras' secret android - really good at writing a relationship that's incredibly loving but just keeps being antagonistic and coming off wrong

One Shots

• True Colours : AU where you leave colours on the people important to you - Enjolras and Grantaire falling for each other is so soft and gently written its lovely, this is genuinely one of my favourites

• Keep It Kind, Keep It Good, Keep It Right : this one is so good to me, because it builds off my pet hatred of everyone assuming Enjolras doesn't care about (or at least actively show he cares about) his friends

• blooming : very soft post-dystopian utopia that has just a really wonderful sense of hope and light to me

• and the wall leaned away (or: The Pros and Cons of Tilling) : perfectly realised characterizations of the amis, Grantaire needs a date to her final year art exhibition - deals with anxiety over protest in a way that actually hits for me

• not just one of the crowd : R helps run a leftist bakery and bike repair shop - very cute characterisation, and I think more les mis fanfic should link to anarchist essays

• Lovesickness : Enjolras is an idiot and thinks he's sick rather than having a crush - the writing of Joly and Combeferre in this is some of my favourite depictions of these two

• If there's a rocket, tie me to it : absolutely heartbreaking sci-fi AU about the amis as doomed mecha pilots

• Where I Fall is Where I Land : Enjolras is a Roman commander as Rome's power is leaving England, and then meets the pict Grantaire (+ fun soulmark stuff !)

• You Started Foreign to Me : Enjolras moves to america and R is the overnight grocery clerk who helps her learn Spanish - cute fluffy lesbians with a wonderfully written driven Enjolras

• Love Is Touching Souls : very cute soulmate AU - and one I really love for really truly considering the implications of soul marks and creating historical lore around it

• Ten Years : R is a musician, and it non-linearly charts his relationship to Enj from high school to 10 years later

• put up with me then I'll make you see : Grantaire lives above Enjolras, and its christmas - I find it to have a very fun interpretation of pining Enjolras

• A Cat Called Trash Can : this was one of the first les mis fics I ever read (yes I know it says it was published in 2020, but I think it has to be a re-upload or something?) and it does still have a special place in my heart - Grantaire rescues a cat, but Enjolras is the only one with an apartment free to look after it

• Still I'm Begging to Be Free : inception AU where les amis have to rescue a sleeping R from his own brain

•I'm in it for You : cw: illness, cancer - R has cancer and is being a martyr about telling his friends so Enjolras drives him back from chemo

• walls come tumbling down : sky high au - a very good high school AU with the perfect level of campy superhero powers

• This brave new world's not like yesterday : Enjolras needs a job, so ends up working in a bowling alley with Grantaire and bonding

Enjolras/Grantaire/Combeferre

• In Defiance of All Geometry : les amis are a student co-op house, Enjolras and Combeferre are pining friends and Grantaire is the newbie

• Still the Same : this is very good writing and very compelling - if you can get over the (imo) plot hole of Enjolras working for the FBI. R was an art thief Enj put away and is briefly helping the FBI out, and Combeferre is Enjolras' husband

• To Kingdom Come : cw: war and PTSD from that, Enjolras and Combeferre are part of a group of refugees that have crossed into a more fantasy land, and Grantaire is a lone traveller from that land that attempts to help - that was a shit summary of this very emotional, wonderfully written fic about war and love in all forms

• Gonna need (a spark to ignite) : I always love a twist on a classic trope, and this is a very fun take on the soulmate AU - Enjolras loses feeling in his soul mark as a child, falls in love with Grantaire and then his soulmate, Combeferre, turns up

Eponine/Cosette

• Pretty Girls Don't Know the Things That I Know : simply stunning writing - perfect example of soft writing about a harsh world

• she knows her way around : Eponine and Cosette bond, ostensibly so Eponine can find out about her for Marius, and their interactions are so playful and realistic, its wonderful

• always find me floating on oceans : Cosette stows away on Eponine's pirate ship - I do always have a soft spot for eposette fics (not just cause I ship it) because they truly characterise Cosette in a really considered and interesting way

• There's No Making Love : I'm putting this under eposette even though there is some significant enjolras/grantaire content, because the Cosette characterisation is so fun and cute

• round and round again : this fic really beautifully translates Cosette's bad childhood and then isolated teenage years, and the impact that would have on her as an adult into a modern AU

• Underwater Thunderheards : this is based off the book The Scorpio Races, and is just a really nice short fic about longing

• How To Change The World Without Taking Power : Marius has a crush on Cosette and she's tried being polite and subtle in turning him down, so just ends up fake dating Eponine instead

• blood red fruit and poison's kiss : Snow White AU - Cosette as Snow White

• The Winters Cannot Fade Her : Snow White Au 2.0 - Eponine as Snow White - this was written as a pair to the one above which is just so cute to me

• marriage à la mode : Cosette and Eponine run a bridal shop together and it's very cute !

• Temporary Hold : I personally find this a really fun and very unique take on Cosette - with exams coming up she decides she needs to get laid on the reg and so hits up Eponine to act as if they're already long term girlfriends

Combeferre/Courfeyrac

• better than you had it : fake dating but kick it up an emotional notch - Courf and Ferre pretend to still be together after breaking up for a family event

• take flight, come near : nice and cute low fantasy, where Combeferre runs a dragon sanctuary and Courf finds an injured dragon

Rare Pairs

• The Future's Owned by You and Me : cute Enjolras/Feuilly with actual radical politics and real life organising difficulties and wins

• First Dates and Other Dangers : Combeferre and Grantaire agree to go on a blind date and it's awkward until it isn't - just cute !

• after midnight : Combeferre has insomnia and meets Grantaire in various all night fast food chains

• as you are : Bahorel and Jehan getting ready together

• Almost Romantic : Jehan works at a museum, and takes Combeferre on a little tour

• Understudy : Jehan/Combeferre, with Combeferre's insecurities regarding being seen as second best to Enjolras

• Here There Be Dragons : Courf/Enj/Ferre - Courf and Enj are superheroes and Ferre is the doctor that patches them up

• To Let it Occur (Laisser Faire la Nature) : Feuilly has a stupidly long stopover in Paris and meets Enjolras

• rule of three : Courf/Enj/Ferre as spies and loving boyfriends

• Good Rhetoric : snapshots of cute cuddly courf/enj/ferre

• subluxate, dislocate, replace : found family and chronic illness with Joly/Bossuet/Musichetta

• Strike stone, strike home (like lightning) : so this fic took one minor piece of lore about Tolkien's dwarves and made a beautiful j/b/m fic from it

• Almost Inevitable : Bahorel/Feuilly friends-with-benefits

• god only knows (what I'd be without you) : Bahorel/Feuilly with a closeted Feuilly and a beautiful Feuilly and Eponine friendship

#les miserables #fanfic rec #les mis #les miserables fanfic #les miserables fanfic rec

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my-reality-my-rules · 2 years

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hihi!! so i’ve been trying to shift for a while now, and one of my biggest sources of motivation is shifting youtubers and listening to their stories. i’d like to believe i have a pretty good bullshit detector, so i can usually tell when people are lying, and one of my favorite shifting youtubers who i watch constantly definitely blatantly lied during a live. ever since then, i’ve picked up on different things they seemed like they were lying about, and now it’s got me questioning them and literally everyone else i watch on youtube, and if anything this person says was ever true. i guess i just wanted to ask if you’ve experienced this before you shifted for the first time and knew for sure it was real, and how you delt with it and kept yourself motivated. i’ve just been very sad and unmotivated in general and this has just made it worse :-(

[thanks for this ask!]

yes, oh my god. i like to corroborate some of these people's stories sometimes to spot any inconsistencies or half-truths. it makes me slightly irritated seeing some stories be recycled half of the time,, but what can you do 😒 not everyone's calling others out on it, but sometimes, the criticisms of having a differing opinion compared to the majority just aren't worth it. sub-comment arguments are just a pain to deal with.

anyways, the first times i did shift, i always looked for the details first. as in, the elements of things i know I've never seen or felt before. textures, sounds, feelings, and et cetera. it's one of the reality checks i often do. during my first times shifting; since, before then, I've never fully experienced it before, i had to make sure that i was truly comprehending what i was seeing. that's why my posts on my first shifts listed out the more specific details and designs of things.

it is demotivating. finding out that some of the people you follow fake it, for whatever reason...i feel betrayed, and severely disappointed. i just absolutely hate it when they lead you on with their stories, only to notice something off, and realise just what's happening.

initially, i took a break from trying to shift the first time i encountered this sort of issue. i also went on to look for other people's opinions on it—whether for proof or for validation, it didn't matter—i just wanted to see what the general conclusion was. in a way, i felt slightly comforted seeing others' reactions too. for the most part, i know I'd ignored it altogether at some point, and moved on.

it can bring some people down, and make them lose hope in shifting itself—which leads to others calling the shifting community fake, delusional, or attention-seeking. a lot of people say to believe whatever you want when it comes to shifting, but if the one giving you those beliefs admits or appears to be forcing it, then it's really going to seem there's no point in trusting the validity of shifting itself.

it's a hot mess. honestly? i really want no part in it. but as a shifter myself, i know i also have a responsibility in educating both non and baby shifters as well in these matters. i guess this blog is a way of me coping with it too, not just as a form of escapism. i dealt with my demotivation by pulling myself up and saying, 'hey, you know there's a problem. you know you can help. you've finally done it. so, why can't you do something for them?'.

just before i successfully shifted, i convinced myself to actively pursue what i wanted—that even on the off chance that it was all some hoax, at least i had something to cling onto, something to believe in, something that had kept me going. at least i took the risk. and you know what? it was worth it. it took time, lots of it, but it all worked out.

another way i dealt with it was through memes and shitposts. i have no idea if it's just my broken sense of humour or if they were actually funny but they did wonders to lift my spirit up. i don't know how to describe this—but tumblr memes and shitposts are just another kind of experience. there's simply something about them that makes their existence useful and entertaining.

the shifting memes I've seen and saved have actually helped a lot, even when i didn't realise it at the time. whether it's the irony or the relatability in these posts that get me, all i know is that they give me another reason to keep trying.

i truly hope you're able to overcome this issue. here—for extra motivation, i hope this also works.

[this is from a previous post btw]

have this cursed image. i hope this haunts you every time you feel sad or about to give up. then, when you remember it, your mind halts to a stop and you get the sinking realisation of 'What the fuck?', and 'What am I doing?'. make it so that you want to forget about this image, and run as far away as possible. when you do, i hope you recall this post, and realise how much you're missing out on by simply surrendering to your uncertainties. the changes could be not much at all, or they could be significant. either way, the line between skepticism and success is blurred here.

in all seriousness though, i will drag you around through your misery if it doesn't work. \(ಠ益ಠ\) YOU \(ಠ益ಠ\) WILL \(ಠ益ಠ\) SHIFT. even if it took longer than you wanted, or if it looks and feels harder than others make it seem, it will happen.

#shifting #shifting realities #reality shifting #desired reality #shift #Esther's shifting posts

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freddieofhearts · 3 years

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Bye bye, dears (for now!)

I know there have been a lot of rumours and some posts about me leaving, so here I am to set the record straight and say a quick ‘au revoir’. This post is long, and I don’t expect everyone to read the whole thing—if you just want information on how to keep in touch, or about access to my removed fics, scroll to the bottom. ⬇️

Why are you leaving?

Firstly, of course I’m not leaving Freddie. This is just an ongoing hiatus from the social side of fandom, because while I have some incredible friends here, who have done all they can to support me and have made this experience wonderful in lots of ways—it’s also true that the social space has become more and more toxic for me.

I get a wild amount of hate. Despite never having my ask box enabled on here, people create new accounts just to message me and tell me all the problems in this fandom are my fault, that I’m faking being sick, that I should kill myself, that I’m fat, etc. I also very regularly get hateful comments on AO3.

Obviously I realise that I’m not the only one who receives these cruel attacks, but it’s become increasingly hard to handle them—especially as some people (‘real’ accounts, not faceless anons) do continue to blame me for wider problems in the fandom. It makes me feel consistently sad, anxious, and paranoid, so that I can’t focus on anything Queen-related that I enjoy.

More pressingly, it’s affected my mental health, which is—imperfect at the best of times. As I’ve occasionally alluded to in older posts on this blog, I have a history of anorexia, OCD, PTSD, and some other overlapping issues. Most people who know me in the fandom are also aware that I’m ‘clinically extremely vulnerable’ to Covid-19, significantly immunocompromised, and have been isolating at home for eleven months.

The combination of all of these things + the constant toxic messages has really been triggering me, and leading to an uptick in disordered behaviours, which my body cannot sustain. Every new instance of hate from an anon—every time there’s another indication of groups in the fandom wanting to ostracise me further—my reaction is deeply self-punitive and unhealthy. Ultimately I need to be out of this environment for, at least, a protracted period. My therapist, my partner and my close friends in the fandom support this decision.

So, what went wrong?

In 2019, I expected to be an absolutely tiny blog in the Queen Tumblr landscape. The fandom was already well-established, and I have never worked to ‘build a following’ on here—I think I’ve linked my own fic a maximum of three or four times!—in fact, more or less the opposite. As I mentioned above: ya girl is nutty as a fruitcake. As a result, I often avoid extremely niche things in daily life which cause severe anxiety for me, Relevant examples here: I never look at my timeline. I never intentionally look at my follower number. Yup, it’s strange, I fully admit it, but it’s best for me to go with these things—usually. In Queen fandom, however, this avoidance both of analytic stats and of most direct engagement led to some problems... My followers grew without me realising, and way more people were reading my blog than I was aware of. I was still in a—“Wow, this fandom is very frustrating, and rife with ableism, racism, etc., so how do we fix this???”—mindset, and I wanted to share my opinions, sure! but I also thought I was sharing them with 15-20 like-minded people.

Now, intent is not impact, and I recognise that I was brusque, didn’t phrase things particularly sensitively, and absolutely did hurt some people by criticising the fandom so freely. I still regret this—and I regret just as much the fact that some assholes have used my criticising the fandom on my own blog as implicit justification for attacking authors. I have said on here many times that I don’t condone that behaviour—but I also think there’s some truth in the presumption that these anonymous malcontents felt my critiques somehow ‘permitted’ them to engage in abuse. For the first few months, though, I genuinely had no idea there was a link at all—and so I was initially slow to condemn this abusive behaviour in public, because I was taking it for granted all authors agreed it was shitty. It took someone directly telling me (shoutout to @a-froger-epic) that people had identified a connection between my posts and the anons, before everything fell into place.

I would like to offer my apologies to the fandom at large for not being more quick on the uptake about this, because I feel that had I realised sooner that these people were taking ‘inspiration’ in some way from me, it might have been easier to put a stop to it. It does seem that there is still a lot of confusion about whether I support them and which of their views I agree with. Let’s be 100% clear on this: I do not support the anonymous commenters on AO3. At times there is some, limited overlap between parts of their views and parts of mine, but even that is less than you may think—I often see anonymous comments from so-called ‘Freddie fans’ that I substantially disagree with.

Perhaps even more importantly: I do not support anyone who sends anonymous hate on Tumblr.

What’s all this about ‘overlap’ with the anons?

Let’s do a mini-summary of the myths vs. the truth. There are views I hold which are genuinely unpopular in the fandom—but which I own up to completely, and have never tried to hide in any way. I’ve never needed to use anonymous to share my opinions because I’m completely open about them! What people who don’t know me tend to have ‘heard’ about me, though, is usually a drastic distortion of my real opinions.

What people think I think:

- Freddie should never top.

- It’s okay to send anon hate if someone writes Freddie ‘wrong’.

- It’s more important to correct ‘wrong’ portrayals than to respect other writers.

- It’s inherently wrong to be more interested in band pairings than canon pairings.

- Freddie should be overtly written as a r*pe survivor/victim (and not doing this is wrong).

- Freddie should be overtly written as having an eating disorder (and not doing this is wrong).

- Kink fics are wrong.

What I actually think:

- I believe Freddie did have a strongly defined sexual identity with marked preferences, but I don’t think Jim Hutton lied when he said that Freddie topped. I believe Freddie did top, but this isn’t the time or place to get into my thoughts on why/when/how much. I do believe that my analysis of the sources relevant to this subject is as historically accurate as one can reasonably be in matters of sex (where historical accuracy will always be particularly limited and imperfect)—but I don’t think it’s morally wrong to write Freddie as topping more than he probably did.

- I don’t believe there’s only one ‘right’ version of Freddie (all others being ‘wrong’). I do believe it is possible to be more right or less right—but I’m also conscious of the fact that this scale of value is not one by which everyone measures fanfiction. As a result, then, I don’t think that any perceptions surrounding ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ justify sending anonymous, non-constructive criticism, or outright hate.

- I do believe constructive criticism is a good thing. I welcome and appreciate it myself; I have received it on my fics in Queen fandom, and it has made them better. I have been in writing workshops which included very forceful criticisms, and the value of such feedback has been intimately and immediately part of my life as a writer for years. However: in this case, I have accepted that my opinion differs from the general community preference, and so I no longer offer any constructive criticism (outside private beta-reading). I haven’t changed my view, but I’ve changed my practice to align with community norms.

- I do not think any single, individual writer has a personal responsibility to write about Freddie Mercury in any given way. That ranges from including the more distressing topics to which I’ve devoted attention (such as trauma)—to concentrating on ‘canon’ pairings like Jimercury—to, even, focusing on Freddie at all.

“Now, that doesn’t sound like you, @freddieofhearts,” you might be thinking. And I know it doesn’t; I think something I’ve done a poor job of articulating is the difference between how I view each individual fan—namely, as free to shape their creative experience at will, even in ways that I might find distressing or offensive; even in ways that you might find distressing or offensive—and the way I view the Collective. I think people have interpreted some of my critiques of ‘Queen Fandom’ as meaning something like: “You-in-particular, a specific Queen fan, are doing it wrong and should change everything about how you do it; also you don’t really care about Freddie.”

And—that’s not it. What any given fan, as an individual, does, isn’t a problem. And that can be true alongside—concurrently with—a multivalent critique of how the fandom is lacking in representation of Freddie’s life, with all that that (wonderful, deservedly celebrated, but also profoundly traumatic) life entailed. I still hold that view; I still have myriad problems with ‘the fandom’ (structurally, collectively, historically and presently—from the 1990s to the 2020s). Some of what I want to work on (away from the social life of fandom) is expressing those critiques with greater nuance, in ways that can’t be misinterpreted as shading any particular fanfiction author or subgenre of story.

In brief: I haven’t changed my mind, but I think Tumblr is an untenable environment in which to discuss the things I want to analyse, especially as there is an ever-present danger of hurting someone.

Can we keep in touch? Where is the fic?

I will drop by this account periodically to check out posts that friends have sent me, so you can always sent me a private message to ask for my contact details on the other app that I’m using now for fandom friends. Multiple Freddie conversations and projects are going on over there, off-Tumblr, with a much ‘gentler’ environment and no bad actors—I personally love it!

All my fic has been downloaded and saved. I don’t want to deal with constant harassment on AO3, but I’m happy to share a copy with anyone who missed it and wants to read/re-read something. I also saved everyone’s lovely comments and thoughtful con-crit, so none of that has been lost or erased.

Thank you to everyone who welcomed me to the fandom, made me think, taught me, shared with me, sent me into fits of the giggles, collaborated with me creatively, and otherwise made this one hell of a ride! Love you all. ❤️

#au revoir my dears #lil gay bby

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lilyvandersteen · 3 years

Text

The Christmas Guest Chapter 4

Author’s Note:

Thanks to @redheadgleek‘s Write a Little Every Day project, this chapter is done much earlier than I’d hoped, yay! Enjoy the snowball fight, and Blaine realising that (HUGE SPOILER) he might actually like Kurt for real. Who’d have thought, huh?

Read Chapter 1, Chapter 2 and Chapter 3 here on Tumblr, or read the story on AO3 or FF.net.

Chapter 4: Sweet Surrender

In spite of his nocturnal trip, Blaine woke up early, and decided to dress and get downstairs to see if Kurt needed something.

When he arrived in the living room, Kurt was sleeping peacefully. The snoring had stopped, and when Blaine checked his forehead, he was glad to find the fever had subsided too.

“Good, you must be feeling better already,” Blaine murmured, grabbing the blanket that had fallen off Kurt and tucking him in again carefully. “I’m going to let you sleep a little longer.”

As he tiptoed out of the room, he was greeted by Carole.

“Morning, Blaine! You’re up early!”

Blaine smiled at her. “Good morning, Carole. Yes, I’m an early bird. Always have been.”

“Best let the others sleep another while, or they’ll be grumpy. Come to the kitchen, we can make a nice breakfast for everyone.”

Burt came downstairs as soon as the smell of bacon started to spread.

“Bacon!”

Carole shook her head at him. “Not for you. We don’t want you to have another heart attack.”

“Just one rasher? It’s Christmas!”

“In two days.”

“Oh, come on! Please?”

Carole gave in. “All right. One rasher. But then I don’t want to hear any more complaints about the healthy food I’m serving you the rest of the week. Deal?”

Burt sighed. “Okay, okay.”

Carole winked at Blaine, who suppressed a snigger and busied himself with setting the table.

When he had nearly finished his plate, he heard a groan coming from the living room.

“Ah, Kurt is waking up!” Carole said. “I’ll make him some eggs too.”

“I’ll go see if he’s okay,” said Blaine.

He arrived just in time to keep Kurt from face-planting, and escorted him first to the bathroom and then to the kitchen.

After pouring Kurt a mug of tea and adding a generous spoonful of honey, Blaine sat down again to finish his own breakfast, smiling at how out of it Kurt still seemed. He didn’t seem to be sniffling or coughing anymore, though. That was good.

They made cookies after breakfast, and it made Blaine’s feeling as if he’d stumbled headfirst into a Hallmark Christmas movie even stronger. Kurt was clearly an experienced baker, whipping up two kinds of dough in no time, and letting Blaine eat the scraps.

Then Kurt’s stepbrother Finn arrived, all six feet plus of him, his size and demeanor reminding Blaine of the jocks who’d bashed him into hospital before he transferred to Dalton Academy, and he shrank into a corner until Carole introduced him to Finn and he got a smile and a hug from the gentle giant, who seemed genuinely pleased to meet him.

By the time they had all decorated the tree together, Blaine’s worries had evaporated, and he enthusiastically agreed to a snowball fight in the garden.

He and Finn were having so much fun goofing off that it took some time for them to notice that Kurt had joined them.

Unlike them, Kurt hadn’t chosen to just grab some snow, pack it together and throw it. No. Kurt had chosen stealth and strategy. He’d built a shield he could hide behind, he’d made towering stacks of snowballs and had even fashioned some kind of sling to be able to throw the snowballs further.

He also had deadly aim. His first snowball hit Finn straight in the chest, with so much force that he almost fell over.

“Uh oh,” Finn said. “Okay, man, we’re going to have to team up, or we’re toast.”

The two of them hid behind trees, but every time they ventured forth from their hiding place, they were pelted by such an onslaught of snowballs that they couldn’t get round to launching an attack of their own.

It took Kurt only ten minutes of this to wear them down. By then, their coats and trousers were white with snow and pretty much soaked through.

“Aw, man, this isn’t fun anymore!” Finn complained. “Kurt, why do you always take these games so seriously?”

Kurt appeared from behind his snow shield, his clothes as good as pristine, his stance regal and his eyes blazing with determination. Though Blaine had suffered just as much as Finn and was just as ready to give up the fight, he thrilled to this version of Kurt, who looked magnificent. It lit a flame somewhere within and made him forget all about his freezing fingers and toes.

“Do you surrender?” Kurt asked, his chin up and his back rigidly straight.

And ugh, the steel in his voice made the fire inside Blaine burn even brighter.

Finn shrugged. “I guess. I’m going back in.”

“I surrender,” Blaine answered, not entirely capable of keeping a quiver out of his voice.

Something sparked into Kurt’s eyes, and he started coming towards Blaine without looking away even once, but a mere two foot from him, he seemed to change his mind and veered off towards the house. “Let’s get inside, Carole is going to make us hot chocolate.”

Blaine felt himself deflate. What had he expected to happen, exactly? Why was he all a-tingle like this? And what was this strange energy between him and Kurt?

A sudden gust of wind made him shiver and hurry to the back door. Hot chocolate sounded heavenly.

When Blaine came in, Finn was complaining again, this time about the seating arrangements in the living room. As victor of the snowball fight, Kurt had claimed the big sofa for himself and Blaine, and forbade Finn to squish in too.

“You can take the loveseat,” Kurt said.

“That one’s hard as a rock!”

“Sit on the floor for all I care. The sofa is ours! Come, Blaine! I’ve got your hot chocolate right here. That will warm you up.”

Blaine accepted the mug gratefully, holding it with both hands to get his fingers warm again, and drinking deeply.

Ah, that’s better!

Finn stomped out of the room in high dudgeon to go complain to his mom, but Carole agreed with Kurt.

Blaine saw Kurt grin in satisfaction, and the grin only widened when Finn came back in and found fault with his film choice too.

“Seriously, man? I wanted to watch Die Hard!”

“I won the fight, so it’s my pick.”

“Burt, back me up on this, come on!”

Burt looked up from his newspaper. “We can watch Die Hard tomorrow.”

Kurt added, “Now stop being a baby about this. Either shut up and watch, or go do something else.”

Finn looked mutinous, but plonked down on the loveseat and shut up.

Kurt hummed along with the opening music and pulled Blaine a little closer still. His arm around Blaine’s middle felt both possessive and grounding. Blaine felt the spark from before rekindling, a jittery feeling that made him want to… What? He didn’t even know, but he wanted. Oh, he wanted!

“What is it?” Kurt murmured. “Are you uncomfortable like this?”

“No, no.”

Blaine wiggled until his head fit exactly into the crook of Kurt’s neck, and then let himself sink into Kurt’s embrace. “Perfect.”

He felt a laugh rumble through him, and Kurt’s hold tightened infinitesimally.

“Good,” Kurt whispered, and softly kissed the crown of his head.

Blaine felt his lips stretch from ear to ear and closed his eyes to bask in the feeling of utter contentment that washed over him.

He couldn’t imagine anything that could ruin the moment now.

Of course, that was because he forgot about Finn.

“Mom, I’m hungry! Can I have some more cookies?”

“You already ate them all, hun!”

“So when’s supper?”

“After the movie.”

“But I’m hungry!”

Finn disappeared to the kitchen, grumbling under his breath, probably to search the pantry for snacks to tide him over until supper.

“Want a chocolate chip cookie?” Kurt asked Blaine softly, holding out a cookie tin and looking very smug.

Blaine burst out laughing. “Is this still payback for Finn putting snow down your shirt?”

“You know it! Also, I wanted to save some cookies for us. Finn ate all the shortbread and the last of the sugar cookies before we even got a chance to have some. Greedy pig!”

Blaine took a cookie and savoured it. “These are the absolute best.”

“Mmm.”

However lovely it was to cuddle up with Kurt, Blaine became uncomfortable after a while because his wet trousers felt cold and clammy and seeped all the heat out of his legs.

“I’m going to put some other pants on,” he whispered to Kurt. “I’ll be right back.”

That promise fell into the water when Cooper called him while he was in Kurt’s room, blathering on and on about all the fancy parties he’d been to and would still be going to.

It took nearly an hour for Coop to stop talking about himself and to ask what Blaine was doing for Christmas.

“I’m in Ohio,” said Blaine.

“But Mom and Dad are on a cruise!”

“Yep. Thanks for telling me about that, by the way. How long have you known?”

“Oh, they told me this summer, I think.”

“Lovely.”

“You didn’t know?”

“Nope. Flew out here for nothing.”

Cooper whistled low. “That sucks. So you’re all alone for Christmas?”

“No, actually, I’m not.”

There was silence at Cooper’s end. Then he asked, “So… You’re saying you’ve been hooking up with Sebastian again?”

“What? No! Ugh. Coop, please. As if! He cheated on me!”

“So who’s with you, then?”

“Kurt. I’m staying with his family.”

For the second time, his reply managed to silence Cooper.

“My boyfriend, Kurt, remember?”

“Um, no?! Now who’s forgotten to tell their brother something?”

Blaine laughed. “Well, it’s recent, so that will be why. I probably haven’t called you yet since we became an item.”

“So… Tell me about him.”

That was all the prompting Blaine needed to start singing Kurt’s praises, and it wasn’t until he’d rung off that he realized two things.

One: he’d referred to Kurt as his boyfriend without even thinking about it, whereas they were only faking a relationship. He’d regret that later, since Coop would tell their mom for sure, and he’d have to hear about it for years.

Two: he desperately wished they could be boyfriends for real. Somehow, in what the Warblers would call a classic Blaine move, he’d fallen for Kurt. Hard. And in a matter of days. There was no way this was going to end well. He was so screwed.

#klaine fanfiction #my fic #The Christmas Guest #chapter 4 #enjoy!

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donteattheappleshook · 4 years

Text

Seal of Approval

Tumblr ate my answer so I’m gonna post the story this way. This is a response to an anonymous prompt for a CS/Snowing double date combined with an Ao3 prompt for a CS date set during the six week gap in season 4.

Big thanks to @xhookswenchx and @teamhook for looking this over when I was pulling my hair out! (also sorry if you accidentally get tagged twice because of this lol)

Also on Ao3 as part of my new CS Prompt Collection

-/-

Emma gets up quickly, sets down one of the giant muffins her mom made and heads in the direction of the crib when she hears her brother crying. Damnit, she’d only just gotten him to sleep, only just gotten to sit down and have a bite to eat. Babysitting sucks. She loves baby Neal - even if she isn’t the biggest fan of his name - but anyone that comes between her and a snack is going to have something to answer for.

“Hey, man,” she says, picking him up out of his crib and bouncing him on her hip. “Couldn’t hold in the waterworks until Mom and Dad came home?” Neal stops crying and smiles up at her, grabbing a fistfull of her sweater and leaning his head on her shoulder. Okay, maybe he’s not so bad. He could be worse. He could be a giant ice monster, or a dragon, or the Dark One.

She shudders. It’s been three weeks since their last crisis, since the Ice Queen sacrificed herself and since Belle banished Gold from Storybrooke. Emma still can’t believe she did that, can’t believe the amount of guts and backbone that it took for her to do that despite the love she’s sure Belle will always have for him. But he’d gone too far, threatened too many people, lied to them too many times, and he’d had to pay the price.

Since he’s been gone it’s been, well, quiet. It’s strange - for Storybrooke anyway. Emma and her dad take turns working at the station, Mary Margaret is back at the school regularly now that there’s no monster to fight. Killian has been spending his time working alongside Belle to help free the fairies from the Sorcerer’s hat - that’s a friendship Emma hadn’t seen coming, but she’s glad that Killian has someone else in town to spend time with besides her and David. He’s really starting to feel like a part of the community.

Today is her day off, and while she’d have liked to spend it hanging out with Killian on his newly returned ship - not that they really ever leave the cabin but that’s besides the point - he and Belle are pretty sure they’ve had a breakthrough and Granny had to cancel on babysitting. So she’d agreed to do it. How much trouble can a kid be? She has fake memories of raising one after all. Neal spits up in her hair. She sighs. How much longer until her parents get home?

“Hi Sweetheart,” Snow says, walking through the door just as Emma has set Neal down with a few of his toys and is attempting to wash baby vomit out of her hair in the kitchen sink. “How was your day?” she asks, picking the baby up. David walks in behind her.

“Great,” she lies. Her mom doesn’t need to know. “He already had his supper but I didn’t give him his last bottle yet.”

“Thanks,” David says, kissing her forehead. It’s still a bit weird, knowing that David and Mary Margaret are her parents, that they’re the same age as her. But it’s weird in the same way that it’s weird that everyone in town is a fairytale character. She’s starting to get used to it and if she doesn’t think about it too much, she can forget it. Mostly. Usually.

“How was the station, Dad?” she asks.

“Quiet,” he says. “Just some teens graffitiing the alley behind Granny’s.”

“Did you use your scary prince face?” she asks.

“I don’t have a scary prince face!” he insists. “But no, I sicked Granny on them,” he tells her with a knowing smirk.

Emma laughs. “How was school?” she asks Mary Margaret.

Mary Margaret goes on to tell her about her day, about the work the kids are doing, how they’re adjusting to everything. She also mentions that she saw Killian and Belle on her way home and that they were finishing up at the library from the looks of it.

“Killian was walking her home,” she tells her. “It was sweet. I think he worries about her.”

Emma smiles a little. “Yeah, well, Killian has a history with women who’ve loved the Dark One.” Both her parents frown and she realises this is not a backstory she wants to get into - or one that’s hers to tell. “I think I’ll head over,” she tells them. “Go meet Killian on the Jolly if he’s done for the day.”

“Again?” David asks and the way he says it makes her pause.

“What do you mean ‘again’?”

“Well you’ve - you’ve been there almost every night this week,” David says.

“Yeah, it’s Regina’s week with Henry. What’s your point?” she asks with a raised brow.

“David,” Snow interrupts. “She’s a grown woman. If she wants to spend her time at her boyfriend’s that’s totally up to her.”

“Boyfriend?” David demands, shock and disbelief and a hint of panic in his tone.

“David...” it’s a warning this time.

“Do you have a problem with me dating Killian?” Emma asks. She thought her dad was starting to like Killian. Had she been wrong?

There’s a long, tense moment before David speaks. “No,” he says finally, shoulders falling on his exhale. “I just… didn’t realise you guys were so serious.” He’s trying really hard to sound casual and she appreciates that.

“Yeah, well,” she says. It is serious. She thinks. They date and spend most nights on his ship together, they’re sleeping together and as far as she knows neither of them are sleeping with other people. He tried True Love’s Kiss on her for god’s sake and as terrifying as that idea still is… well, yeah, she’s pretty sure it’s getting serious. More serious than she’s let anything get in a long time. Walsh doesn’t count.

“Then I think we should meet him,” David says and both Emma and Snow turn to him in confusion. “Properly.”

“Dad, you know Killian.” Was there another curse that came through town that she didn’t hear about?

“I don’t mean meet him I mean…” he searches for words. “If we were back in the Enchanted Forest, or even if we’d been able to raise you here, if you were dating someone seriously you would have brought him over, for dinner or something, so that we could meet him properly, as your boyfriend.” He nearly chokes on the last word.

Emma frowns at him, skeptical. “Is this some weird thing so that you can ask him about his intentions or something?”

“No!” he insists quickly. He clears his throat. “Besides, I already did that,” he adds quietly.

“You did what?”

“He didn’t tell you?”

“No, he didn’t tell me!”

“Huh,” is all David says.

“Probably because he knew it would make me annoyed at you. He wouldn’t want that.” David’s face softens and looks guilty all at once. “He’s changed.”

“I know he has. I just… we didn’t get to raise you and meet any of your boyfriends. This time, if it’s something real, I want to get to know him better,” he says and Emma lets her hackles down a little. “Why don’t you invite him over for dinner tomorrow night?”

“Are you planning to interrogate him?”

“No… I mean I have some questions,” he starts and holds a hand up when Emma starts to protest. “But they’re normal questions. The kind a dad should be allowed to ask the man who’s dating his daughter.”

Emma sighs. “I get it, Dad. I do. But, I’m not a kid. We’re the same age and bringing my boyfriend over for some formal, meet the parents dinner just feels… weird.”

“Why don’t we do something else then?” Snow chimes in, ever the peacekeeper. “Maybe… a double date!”

“A what?” Emma and David answer in unison.

“Like you said, we’re all the same age. Why don’t we all go out and do something fun together? That way, we can get to know Killian better without so much pressure. Emma has a point, Sweetheart. The age thing makes it weird so maybe, this way, we can work on being friends,” she finishes very diplomatically, her hand stroking David’s arm.

“But I…” David starts.

“Honey, our daughter is a grown woman. Killian is older than you. We can’t pretend she’s a little girl that needs looking after. Besides, it’s been a while since we had a date night.”

David sighs, caving. “Alright,” he agrees and Emma shares a thankful look with her mom. David looks up again. “But can I at least -”

“No,” Snow and Emma cut him off.

-/-

“So listen,” Emma says, propping her chin on Killian’s chest, her fingers drawing patterns through the hair there. “I need you to do something for me.”

Killian’s smile is obscene as he pulls her in closer, hand wandering over her naked back. “Anything,” he promises as his fingers trace over the skin at the curve of her hip. He’s gonna regret saying that, she thinks. She really wishes she didn’t have to ask him what she’s about to ask him because she knows it’s going to stop the trail of his hand cold.

“I need you to go on a date with me and my parents.”

He freezes, blinks. “I’m sorry?” he asks with a small shake of his head, eyes wide. “What?” He’s frowning at her now and it’s really almost funny to watch all the emotions play across his face. She pulls back, sits up, letting the sheet fall around her waist and taking a moment to appreciate the way his eyes drift down despite his confusion.

“David and Mary Margaret want to go on a double date with us.”

“They want to spend an evening out with us? With me? With the man who is currently engaging in sexual congress with their daughter?”

She smacks him on the shoulder and he laughs, catching her hand and pulling her back down on top of him. “Oh my god. You cannot make reference to the fact that we’re having sex! I think my dad is still trying to convince himself that I’m a virgin.” Killian smiles wickedly again and she glares. “Don’t,” she warns and he bites his lip.

“So what exactly would this evening entail? Would they care to join us for a night on the Jolly Roger?”

Emma shakes her head. “It’s too cold. We just don’t notice it because we stay down here.”

“That’s not true,” he insists. “There was that one night on the deck. I believe we managed to keep quite warm.” She rolls her eyes. “So what then? Dinner at Granny’s?”

She shakes her head again. “They said that wasn’t special enough since we eat there all the time together. And the whole town would be there.”

“Alright. Then what did they suggest?”

Emma shuts her eyes and buries her head in his chest, not wanting to say her next words. “They want to go for drinks at the Rabbit Hole,” she mumbles against him.

“The Rabbit Hole?” he asks and she can hear the raised eyebrow in his tone. “Why the devil would they suggest that?”

“Because I told them we go there,” she groans. He’s looking at her when she finally lifts her head, waiting for an explanation. “They had another one of those ‘we’re not old, we’re fun’ moments and they asked me what we like to do with our time together and I panicked because I couldn’t tell them what we actually do when we spend the night together so I just blurted out that we like to go hang out at the Rabbit Hole and they just jumped on the idea and well, here we are.”

Killian looks equal parts like he wants to laugh and jump overboard at the idea of going to a bar with her parents. It’s not her fault! She had to come up with something and the truth of the matter is that she and Killian are still in the honeymoon period of their relationship - though she doesn’t really see it slowing down anytime soon. This is the first quiet moment they’ve had since they really got together. This is the first time they’ve been able to really be together and not just find a few stolen minutes when her parents are out of the loft or when they could steal away to his room at Granny’s. It’s nice, just being able to enjoy each other.

“Well,” Killian finally says. “I suppose it has been a while since I took you out properly.” Emma looks up at him, relieved and hopeful. “Besides,” he shrugs, his hand resuming its path again. “It could be fun.”

Emma does not appreciate the look in his eye when he says that - well, okay she does, a lot, but not the implication of what that look could mean for tomorrow night. “Behave yourself,” she warns him.

“I don’t know what you mean, Swan,” he insists. “I will be the picture of propriety.” Yeah right. She doesn’t believe that for a second.

“My dad still has a sword.”

Killian smirks, rolls her over onto her back and settles his hips into the cradle of her thighs. He gives her a wink. “So do I.”

-/-

When Emma and Killian arrive at the Rabbit Hole, the place is already nearly packed with people. Emma’s not surprised, the town only has one bar and, well, there’s not much else to do on a Friday night here. She’s broken up enough fights at one in the morning when she works the night shift to know how rowdy this place can get. Which is why she still can’t believe this is where her parents wanted to have their date. Here. Of all places. She sighs, maybe she should have let them just have Killian over for dinner.

“What’s wrong, Love?” Killian asks, nudging her shoulder and leaning down so he can whisper in her ear. She’s sure the volume in this place has something to do with it, but not everything to do with it as the goosebumps rise up on her neck and she feels his lips against her skin. So much for best behaviour.

“Just thinking that I’m definitely going to need a drink if I’m gonna make it through tonight.”

“Aye, you and me both,” he smirks, directing her towards the bar. Emma can’t actually remember the last time she came here for a drink and not for work. It’s weird, people keep looking at her like they’re expecting to get arrested. What’ll they think when the King and Queen walk in?

“Two rums please,” Emma orders and the bartender heads off to get them their drinks.

“Crowded in here, wouldn’t you say?” Killian asks, sliding in closer and wrapping his hooked arm around her so that her back presses into his chest. Cheeky, she thinks. Not that she really has any issue with him finding a reason to press up against her. If her parents weren’t about to walk through that door any minute, she’d roll her hips back against him, just to get him worked up. But they are coming. So she doesn’t.

They’re handed their drinks and toast, to surviving the night, and then throw them back in one shot, ordering a second round. Those are thrown back too. She doesn't intend on getting drunk, just a little loose, enough that she can get through the social awkwardness of dating with her parents - but not so much that she might say or do anything to give herself away.

Killian leans in under the guise of making room for someone squeezing by behind them. Suddenly, his lips are by her ear and she can feel his smile against it, the one he gets when the rum is just starting to warm his blood.

“Killian,” she warns when his lips close around her earlobe, and then start trailing slowly down her neck.

“Hmm?” he hums, playing innocent.

“My parents are going to be here any minute.”

“Indeed,” he speaks against her neck and then continues, unperturbed. “But they aren’t here yet, are they?”

Fine then, if that’s how he wants to play. She pushes back against him, her ass pressing into the front of his jeans and his lips fumble against her skin. He clears his throat and when he speaks again his voice is rougher, a little bit of an edge to it.

“Careful what game you’re playing there, Swan,” he warns. She smirks.

“You started it.” She sees the door open, sees who comes in as they scan the room, looking. Emma grabs her third drink in one hand and then reaches back to brush her fingers against the hardening length pressing against her back. Killian growls. “Mom! Dad!” she calls then, waving them over. The sound Killian makes is priceless. She knows she’ll probably end up paying for it but it’s enough to see him so thrown off his game when she looks over her shoulder.

She steps forward, out of the circle of his arms and into her mom’s embrace. “Hi sweetheart!” Snow says, placing a kiss on her cheek. “Hi Killian,” she says, looking over Emma’s shoulder. Killian coughs awkwardly and raises his glass in greeting. Emma bites back her smile.

David leans in for a hug too and then reaches out to shake Killian’s hand. Emma notices that he keeps the majority of his body behind her as he takes her father’s hand. Maybe she was a little too mean. He really was asking for it though.

After a second, he recovers flawlessly, smiling at her parents with that charm she knows has gotten him through more challenging situations than this one. “So, what will you have?” Killian asks, waving down the bartender.

“Beer for me,” David says, pointedly speaking to the bartender rather than letting Killian order for him. She sees the slight smile on Killian’s face. “Snow?”

“Beer,” she says and four pairs of eyebrows raise.

“Beer?” Emma asks

“I drink beer!” Snow insists. Even David doesn’t look convinced. “It’s a night out! I’m having fun!”

Emma cringes. All she can hear is ‘I’m not like the other moms. I’m a cool mom,’ echoing in her head. Even when she and Mary Margaret were roommates, her mom never drank beer. Wine, yes, sometimes even hard liquor if the situation called for it. But never beer. But then again, her mom did just have a baby. Maybe she’s trying to take it easy.

“Okay then,” Emma says. “Make it four. She throws back her last drink. This night is already off to an interesting start.

David suggests they find a table and they manage to trudge their way through the crowd towards a small booth in the back of the room. Emma’s pretty sure that booth had been occupied a second ago. She doesn’t know whose presence led to it being vacated: the royals, the sheriffs or the pirate. What a freaking weird bunch they are tonight.

They squeeze into the booth, she and Killian on one side and her parents on the other and then… nothing. An awkward, long, heavy silence hangs between them, the kind of silence that’s always dreaded when it comes to new social interactions. Twice Mary Margaret opens her mouth and Emma hopes she’ll say something but both times she closes it with a frown. David keeps alternating between clearing his throat and taking sips of his beer. What is going on? They’ve all spent time together before, they’ve all spoken to one another… but that was usually about a crisis… now with no crisis there’s just… quiet. She hates it.

The TV switches to a hockey game and David perks up. “Oh, this should be a good one,” he says and Emma realises those are the first words that have been spoken in five minutes. Mary Margaret nudges him in a not so discreet way and he looks at Killian and Emma. “Do, uh, do you like hockey?” he asks Killian lamely.

Killian scratches at a spot behind his ear. “Alas, I’m not familiar with it. I don’t know the rules.”

“Oh,” is all David says.

Before the next silence can last too long Mary Margaret speaks. “So, Killian, how are things going with Belle?” she asks with a smile. “Have you made any progress?”

“Very little,” he sighs. “We keep getting stuck with translations. Those magic boxes can do much but they can’t decipher the spells.”

“That’s too bad,” Snow says and Killian agrees. Another silence follows as they all nurse their drinks and half-watch the game.

Emma startles suddenly when she feels Killian’s hook on her knee. His hand is around his glass, perfectly proper, but his hook is starting a slow climb. She kicks at his foot, trying to ignore the sparks shooting along her skin. He is not actually going to try this with her parents sitting right in front of them. He hides his smile in his drink. Her parents remain unaware and Killian grows more daring until suddenly Emma is distracted from trying to bury her fingernails into her palm by her dad speaking to Killian again.

“What games do you know?” he asks. Emma smiles a little. She can tell he’s really trying.

“Few from this world,” Killian admits, his hook has stopped it’s journey for now but it’s still on her thigh. “There was little opportunity for sport on the sea but I fancy myself quite good at cards and dice. And of course swordplay and shooting.”

David actually smiles. “I miss a good sword fight for the sport of it,” he says. Snow catches Emma’s eye and gives her a little grin, clearly thrilled that they’ve found something to talk about.

“Perhaps we ought to have one someday,” Killian suggests and Emma tries not to laugh at the idea of two of the most competitive people she’s ever met sword fighting ‘for fun’. She can see the concern on her mom’s brow too. “Actually,” he says, looking over at the dart board. “I’ve quite taken to darts.”

“Really?” David perks up. “Why don’t we play?” He asks, looking excitedly at the three of them.

Killian looks at Emma and she shrugs. “Sure, why not? I’m a little rusty though.”

“Then we’ll just have to get you loosened back up won’t we?” Killian teases with a smile that’s way too suggestive for present company.

He’s really enjoying this isn’t he? She shakes her head at him and his brows waggle. Her dad is looking at them with a little less enjoyment but also like he doesn’t have the ground to stand on to protest anything. She remembers the way Killian had teased David when he picked her up for their first date and she wonders exactly how far he’s going to push this. Well, he wouldn’t be a pirate if he didn’t crave a little danger, would he?

They wait for the current game to end and then head over to claim the board. Emma can’t help but notice the way her dad’s eyes shift when Killian wraps an arm around her shoulders as they walk, keeping it there as David grabs the darts. He looks at them.

“Do you want to go first?” he offers, pointedly looking at Killian’s arm.

“I’m fine,” he waves him off. David clenches his jaw and Emma raises a brow at him. Apparently his overprotective dad mode has been initiated. And Killian’s hook is in a much more respectable place now than it was a few minutes ago. David turns to throw his first dart and Emma looks up at Killian, flashing him that same raised eyebrow.

“Be nice,” she tells him.

“I’m always nice,” he smirks.

“No, you’re trying to give my dad an aneurysm with your PDA.”

“I don’t know what either of those things mean but I’m certain your father can handle his daughter being shown a bit of affection.” He’s at least keeping his voice low.

She shrugs. “Your funeral.”

“I can think of no better way to perish than by showering you with my attentions. Well, maybe one.”

She rolls her eyes and he laughs, leaning in to press a kiss to her temple. Emma sinks in against his side a little, leaning her head against his shoulder and looping her arms around his waist. It’s nice. The whole sweet, boyfriend-y, little touches and cheek and forehead kisses and stuff. It’s new and she’s not used to it, but she likes it.

David clears his throat and Emma raises her head to see him pointedly holding out the darts for one of them to take. Really? She casts a desperate glance at her mom who is trying and failing to hide her amused smile. But Mary Margaret steps forward and plucks the darts from her husband’s hand. David looks at her like she’s betrayed him.

“I’ll go next,” she announces, actually winking at Emma as she walks by them.

“But shouldn’t one of -”

“Nope!” Snow turns to the dart board and throws three bullseyes in a row without flinching. Killian’s arm falls slightly from Emma’s shoulder as he swallows, eyes going a little wide.

“Woah, Mom,” Emma gapes. Snow shrugs but Emma can see her preening, a little bit of a daze working its way into her smile and she can tell that the drink might be starting to hit her already. That really just makes the bullseyes more impressive. She walks over to David who smiles proudly and kisses her. Oh, so they can show affection but she can’t?

“My turn,” Emma says, giving Killian’s waist a squeeze before heading over to pull the darts out of the board. “Wish me luck!”

She stands at the line and sets herself in the right posture, but before she can throw the dart, Killian’s hand is on her back, his cheek brushing her ear. “Good luck,” he whispers before pressing his lips to her neck. Her dad’s throat clears again. “You feeling alright, Dave?” Killian asks with a smirk. Emma elbows him.

She throws the dart and it misses its mark. Although, she’s pretty sure that it has more to do with the pirate whose lips are curling against her ear than with her actual skill.

“You need to adjust your form, Love,” he tells her, finding an excuse to wrap his hand around her hip and pull her back a little against him. David coughs again and she swears Killian’s face is going to split if he smirks any wider. “You should really get that checked out, mate,” he says. Killian actually does adjust her form, pulling her hip back and lining her shoulder up more squarely with the board. The next dart hits the bullseye.

“He’s not wrong,” Snow says softly and Emma doesn’t look but she can just picture David seething beside her. The third dart also hits the center and she and Killian both walk over to pull them from the board.

“You need to behave yourself,” Emma whispers to him. He only smiles.

“We’re on a date, Swan. Is this not how people are supposed to behave on dates? It would certainly seem so if the movies your mother recommended are to be trusted.”

“You actually watched those?” she asks, surprised.

“Aye,” he nods. “And those Henry and your father recommended as well. The Widow Lucas showed me how to use the black box in the room I rented.” He looks at her. “What?”

“I’m just surprised I guess.”

He shrugs. “They took the time to share something they enjoyed and hoped I would too. It would feel rude not to.” Emma smiles at him. It’s kind of sweet to see the effort that he’s making to befriend her family - even if he is currently trying to give her dad a heart attack. “Besides, it gives me something to talk to them about.”

She laughs. “We could have used that when we were at the table,” she jests, nudging him with the dull side of the dart. The corner of his lips pull up salaciously.

“I was otherwise engaged.”

“I think you got them all,” David says impatiently and Emma hangs her head, a small laugh escaping her. They make their way back to her parents and Killian takes his turn, hitting two bullseyes. In the end, Snow destroys them all and while he’s proud of her, David still shakes his head and laughs.

“Well,” he says, hands on his hips. “My ego is thoroughly bruised.” Snow smiles at him and pats his chest placatingly. “What do you say we try another game? Maybe pool?”

Killian agrees and she and her mom shrug. Why not? It’s better than sitting in awkward silence back at the table.

“I must say, Your Majesty, I could have used someone with your aim back on my ship. Not only in scuffles but it’s always good to have a shark when gambling and sailors often make the mistake of underestimating a woman.”

“Men, you mean,” Snow quips and Killian laughs.

“Aye.”

“But we know better don’t we?” David chimes in. “I only needed to learn that lesson once,” he laughs, rubbing at the scar on his chin.

“I know exactly how you feel,” Killian smiles, his arm snaking its way across Emma’s shoulders again. David looks surprised.

“What do you mean?”

“Did your wife not tell you?” Killian asks, then looks at Emma. “Did you not tell him?” She shakes her head. “When Emma and I first met, when we were fighting to get here from the Enchanted Forest, Emma knocked me out with a rather impressive blow to the jaw.” He rubs at his chin.

“Aw, sorry, babe,” Emma says, rising up on her toes to kiss the spot where she hit him so long ago. He had it coming back then, but she feels a little bad about it now.

“You did?” David demands, looking at her with some kind of fatherly pride she’s still getting used to. She doesn’t fail to notice that he doesn’t seem quite as scandalized by her kissing a man in front of him as she expected. She nods. “Huh,” is all he says.

“Like mother, like daughter, I suppose,” Killian ventures. David actually laughs.

“Yeah, I guess so!” He looks at Emma. “Good for you,” he says before casting a slightly guilty look at Killian. “No offence.”

Killian shrugs it off. “None taken. I was… different back then.” He looks a little ashamed and David nods.

“Yeah,” he agrees and Killian’s shoulders straighten. Emma squeezes at his waist, trying to sooth him, but she doesn’t need to when David speaks again. “But you’re not that person anymore.”

Emma doesn’t know who is more shocked, Killian, her mother, or herself. Killian coughs, scratches behind his ear. He’s trying to play it cool but she can tell how much even this small acknowledgement from her dad of how much he’s changed affects him.

“Right,” he says finally. “Shall we play some billiards?” David nods and Emma starts to follow them but Snow stops her.

“Why don’t you boys play,” she suggests. “Emma and I will go get another round.”

“You don’t want to play?” Emma asks, frowning. She knows her mom has a competitive streak. Snow shrugs.

“Pool isn’t my strong suit,” she says. “And I think I’d like to go out on a victory.” David checks once more that she’s sure she doesn’t want to play and she assures him she doesn’t. Emma’s pretty sure that her dad receives the same hint that she’s getting: Snow wants him and Killian to spend some time alone together, she’s giving him his chance to talk. Emma’s weary but she’s also getting the sense that her mom is also trying to lure her into some kind of weird mother-daughter talk under the guise of getting drinks.

They push their way through the crowd - Emma swears it’s even more packed now than it was when they first got here - and make it to the bar. It takes them a while to get the lone bartender's attention and Mary Margaret takes that time to look back at where the guys are playing pool.

Emma looks over her shoulder. She can’t help but laugh. They both have the same cocky swagger to their mannerisms, showing off with every shot. She can’t hear what they’re saying but she’s certain there’s a little trash talk going on. It looks like Killian is winning though, if the smile on his face and the frown on David’s is anything to go by. David says something that makes Killian laugh and David raises an eyebrow as he leans over the table to take his shot. She’d never noticed that little quirk of her dad’s.

“I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” Snow comments and Emma turns back to her.

“What?”

Snow nods towards the guys again. “I just think you might have gotten your taste in men from me,” she smirks.

“What? Ew,” Emma says but then she looks over at them and oh my god. “Oh my god!” she says. “Oh, gross.”

“It’s not gross!” Snow laughs. “Your father is confident and kind and supportive - and so is Killian. And he looks at you like you hung the stars - that’s an addictive feeling, believe me, I know. But it’s not a bad thing,” she says quickly and Emma realises her panic must be evident on her face.

Things are going well with Killian. She likes him. A lot. More than she’s liked anyone in a long time but… he traded his ship for her, his home, and to hear Snow tell her that he looks at her the way her father looks at her mother.. they’re true love and well, it’s a lot. And it’s a little scary.

“I know it’s not,” she admits. “It’s just -”

“Intense?” Snow asks with a smile.

Emma laughs a bit. “Yeah.” Her mom nods. “Intense is the right word. Killian is really kind of all or nothing and all in and I like it but it’s… a lot.”

“Just give it time,” she says, reaching out to stroke her back gently. “I have to say, as your mother, it’s nice to know that you’re lo-” she cuts herself off. “That you’re cared about so much.” Snow has a small dreamy smile curling her lips and Emma asks her what else she’s thinking. She shrugs. “Your dad is like that too. All or nothing. Like I said, the apple doesn’t fall far…”

Emma raises an eyebrow, biting back her smirk. “Yeah, well, I never slept with Whale so…”

Snow bursts out laughing and actually smacks her arm and Emma starts laughing too. For a moment, it feels like before the curse broke, back when Snow wasn’t her mom but just Mary Margaret, her friend, her roommate. She misses that sometimes. She’s happy she has her parents, that she finally found them, but sometimes she misses her best friend.

Emma manages to get the bartender’s attention and orders their drinks. “So,” Snow asks as they wait for their order. “How are things going?” She’s still got that lighthearted, slightly coy smile on her face that reminds Emma of simpler times and so she answers honestly, speaking to her friend rather than her mother.

“It’s going… it’s going really well actually.” Snow’s smile is going to split her face. She nudges her with her elbow.

“Tell me!”

“I dunno. He’s sweet, like really sweet. With me but also with Henry and I guess I never realised how much fun he is to be around. He’s always teasing and playing around and he’s got all these great stories and these little quirks that I didn’t know about. And he asks me about myself and he just listens - like, actually listens.”

She looks over at where Killian’s playing pool. He catches her eye, raises a brow. “And it doesn’t hurt that he looks like a freaking Calvin Klein model. And oh my god the s-” She stops. Suddenly remembering who she’s talking to. Snow doesn’t look phased, only smirking at her a little wickedly and Emma wonders if she’s feeling the same nostalgia she is or if it’s just the one beer already hitting her.

“You’re blushing,” she teases.

“I am not!” Emma insists.

“Hey, I don’t blame you. He is very hot.”

“Mom!”

“What? I’m married. I’m not blind.”

Emma only gapes at her in disbelief as Mary Margaret shrugs dismissively and grabs the four bottles when they’re set down in front of them. The bartender also sets down a bottle of rum giving her a smile.

“On the house,” he says. “You being here has people on their best behaviours. I haven’t had to throw someone out all night.”

“Is this a bribe?” Emma asks with a raised brow.

“Absolutely,” the man says and Emma laughs, accepting the bottle and the glasses but throwing in a large enough tip that she doesn’t feel like she’s committing a felony. When they reach the pool table, there’s some sort of heated argument going on.

“I’m just saying, when I win, I want to win fairly,” David says.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Killian insists.

“What’s going on?” Emma interrupts.

“Killian is cheating.”

“I’m not cheating! I’m offended you would even suggest it.”

“Why do you think he’s cheating?” Emma asks, feeling protective of Killian but also fully aware that him cheating is absolutely a possibility.

“Because five minutes ago he was sinking everything and then I missed a few in a row and suddenly he hasn’t managed to sink a single ball.”

Emma bites back her laugh. “You think he’s cheating to let you win?” Emma looks at Killian, sees the smirk on his face. Oh my god, he’s cheating to let David win.

“Emma,” David says. “Please tell your boyfriend that I can win on my own, thank you very much, and that this isn’t going to earn him brownie points with your dad.”

Killian laughs but he reaches out and grabs hold of her hand, squeezing it when her dad refers to him casually as her boyfriend. She brings his hand up to her lips and presses them against his knuckles. His eyes widen slightly in surprise while her father rolls his. She wonders at his surprise. Maybe she’s not the best at showing affection. Maybe she should work on that.

She steps forward into his embrace and he wraps his hooked arm around her as he reaches for his cue that’s leaning against the table. She presses herself against him and puts her hand on his chest. There’s still that bit of surprise on his face but his smile tells her it’s the good kind.

“Killian,” she says seriously, tilting her head up to look at him.

“Yes, Love?”

“Stop letting my dad win,” she smiles. He laughs, nods, but leans down quickly to kiss her, brief enough that David can’t really complain. It doesn’t stop him from frowning though.

“Alright then, Dave,” Killian says when Emma walks back over to her lean against the wall with her mom. “Let’s have a real game shall we?”

The game gets pretty close, by the end it comes down to David having only the eight ball left and Killian having one of his own to sink. David misses the shot and they debate the rules as to whether Killian wins by default or if they keep playing. David insists that he’s lost and that that’s better for Killian since he’d still have two balls to sink to win. Killian insists that he loves a challenge and wants them to continue.

Snow rolls her eyes and shoots Emma a knowing look. Shit, they really are alike. She’s trying not to be grossed out by that. In the end, Killian sinks both his ball and the eight and wins the game, but in a way that David can respect and he offers him his hand to shake, insisting that they’ll have to have a rematch sometime. Killian’s smile at the offer and the way his cheeks go a little red warm her heart.

“How did you get so good at this?” David asks. “They didn’t have this game in the Enchanted Forest. Do you and Emma play a lot when you come here?”

Killian shoots her a smirk and she glares at him. “No, we usually enjoy ourselves in other ways when we spend an evening together.” He’s really pushing it, she thinks. But as far as her dad knows they hang out here on their nights together so hopefully he thinks that Killian just means they play other games, and not that Killian spends most of his nights with his head between her legs, playing in a whole different way.

“It was Belle, actually,” he adds before David or Snow can put any pieces together. “She’s quite the shark and sometimes we play to blow off steam when the research gets to be too much. She taught me a trick or two. There are quite a few games she’s taught me that we didn’t have in our realm. I must say this world has a certain advantage when it comes to entertainment.”

“Yeah,” Snow says. “I have to say I’d miss reality TV and the Food Network if we ever went back.”

“And video games,” David adds. “And ESPN.”

“Look, the Enchanted Forest lost me at no indoor plumbing,” Emma chimes in and there’s a shared laugh of agreement.

“I do miss some things,” Snow admits. “Like royal balls. There’s nothing here quite like the dances we used to have at the castle.”

“I miss riding horses,” David says. “Cars are great, but you can’t bond with a car. What about you, Hook? Do you miss anything from your old life?” Emma tenses, almost worried about his answer. He gave up his home for her, she reminds herself. But that doesn’t mean that he’ll never regret it, that he’ll never resent her for it.

“Can’t say that I do,” he shakes his head, reaching for her as though he knows exactly what she’s thinking. He probably does. “Particularly now that I have my ship back. I missed the sea.” He looks at David pointedly then, his fingers tightening on her hip and she knows that the message is for her too. “But I have no plans of leaving. I’ve found a call that’s stronger than hers.” He looks at her out of the corner of his eye and she tenses a little, a natural reaction to such an overt admission of feelings, but then lets out the breath she’s holding and smiles at him, lets herself be happy about it. She catches David’s nod of approval. Mary Margaret’s practically swooning.

“I do miss the music, though,” he adds after a moment. “There’s something about the sound of a crew singing under the hot sun while they work, or late at night under the stars that nothing here has managed to live up to. The music in this realm… leaves something to be desired.” Emma bites back her smile, remembering his distaste for most, if not all of the music Henry insists on playing loudly whenever he’s on the Jolly Roger with Killian.

“Although, I will admit that some of the music Emma has shown me is more... palatable.” Emma smirks as David and Snow ask what music he means.

“I showed him classic rock,” she tells them. “I thought with the whole leather and eyeliner and earrings it might be up his alley.” She was honestly shocked when he’d liked it. She’d been showing him a bunch of different genres and he’d made faces at nearly all of them, all but folk - which she expected - and classic rock - which she had not.

David’s eyes go wide but not in shock, in excitement. “And you liked it?” he demands.

“Aye,” Killian answers. “They have melodies that encourage singing along and that feel like they should be sung in groups. It feels nostalgic.” Emma can’t quite make the connection between something like Queen or Led Zeppelin and sea shanties out on the water, but she’s never been there so she assumes it’s more of a feeling thing than a technical thing.

“I love classic rock! I was born in - well, David Nolan was born in - the eighties! I grew up listening to that stuff! At least, I have memories of growing up listening to it, of my mom playing records for me. It’s complicated.”

“Sounds like it,” Killian laughs.

“Don’t they have a jukebox here?” David exclaims, scanning the bar. He clearly spots one because he grabs a very confused Killian’s arm and drags him across the room. Emma looks at her mom who seems equally as surprised before she bursts out laughing. Her dad is acting like a little kid - or like a nerdy dad - and poor Killian is apparently going to be subjected to a hell of a musical education.

Emma grabs the bottle of rum and the glasses and holds them up before she and Mary Margaret head off after the guys. “I think we’re gonna need this,” she jokes. Snow only nods, smiling.

When they reach their significant others, Emma is surprised to find them in a heated conversation, debating the merits of AC/DC versus Aerosmith. Emma can’t even keep track of who prefers who as they speak over one another and take turns - sorta, they kinda push and shove really - filling the jukebox and picking songs.

“Swan,” Killian turns to her for the first time in nearly ten minutes and she looks at him with an arched brow. “Do you have any of those blasted quarter-dollars? My dubloons won’t fit in the bloody machine.”

Emma laughs. “They’re just called quarters and no, I don’t. But I have rum,” she offers as a substitute.

“Aye,” Killian says. “That will help too. Especially if your father is going to continue to insist on playing REO Speedwagon.”

“Hey!” David cries.

Emma and her mom try and coax the guys over to the table nearby but neither of them are willing to step away from the jukebox, both convinced that someone else will choose a terrible song. They also can’t stop suggesting songs and the way David keeps excitedly shouting ‘oh man, yeah I love that one’, and Killian keeps referring to songs as ‘bloody brilliant’ has her pretty sure that she and Mary Margaret have lost them for the night.

So, she fills her and her mom’s glasses and they head to the table that is literally less than six feet away, leaving the bottle and the two other glasses for David and Killian. The women sip their drinks, watching in amazement as the two grown men continue speaking so fast she can’t keep up with what they’re saying and bouncing on the balls of their feet.

Emma loses track of what happens really after that, David and Killian become a bit of an entertaining blur, both of them laughing and talking and drinking rum - they’re really drinking quite a bit, she realises at one point - and singing along. That’s right. The two of them are belting out classic rock songs, drawing annoyed and weary looks from everyone else in the room. But what can they do? It’s the king/sheriff and a freaking pirate. Who's going to stand up to that?

“At least they’re getting along,” Snow comments, wincing as David and Killian butcher a song she can’t recognize - probably because they have the words wrong.

“Of all the things that I thought might bring them together, I never thought it would be this.” Emma shakes her head. “Do you really think -” she starts but then feels silly for asking. Snow gives her an encouraging look. “Do you think dad likes him?”

It shouldn’t matter. She’s a grown woman and she can be with whoever she wants to be with. She’s never needed anybody's permission or approval and she doesn’t need it now. But just because she doesn’t need it doesn’t mean she doesn’t want it.

“I think,” Mary Margaret starts, choosing her words carefully. “I think that were it any other situation, if Killian wasn’t the man dating his daughter, he and your father might be best friends. I think he does like him, but he’s trying not to like him too much because he’s stubborn and overprotective and he feels like he needs to be on your side.”

“There aren’t any sides,” Emma says. “We’re together. We make a good team.”

“I see that. And your dad is starting too also. You just need to give him some time. But I think that they’re making some serious strides if tonight is anything to go by.” She winces again as David fails to hit a particularly high note that should be reserved for only Freddy Mercury. But he laughs as Killian pours him another drink, clinking his glass against the other man’s.

“And you?” Emma asks hesitantly. “Do you like him?” She’s never thought to ask. Her dad has always made his opinion clear. Mary Margaret is different though. She plays things closer to the chest. She’s never really worried about her opinion of Killian until now, now that she realises she doesn’t know what it is.

Snow smiles. “I do,” she says, placing her hand over Emma’s reassuringly. “I didn’t always, but even when we first met him I could tell there was something going on between you. It scared me back then because of who he was. But he’s changed, become someone better, someone who might actually deserve you.” Emma opens her mouth to protest, to defend Killian but her mom stops her. “I just mean that I have trouble believing that anyone deserves you. But the way he looks at you, and the way he supports you and encourages you. Yeah, I like him.”

Emma smiles, looking down to hide the effect of her mom’s words, which she’s sure are written all over her face. “Good.”

"Emma," Killian says, suddenly right beside her. She turns to find him looking down at her, hand out and a slightly dazed, happy smile on his lips. "Dance with me." His eyes are heavy-lidded and there's the slightest sway to his stance. She bites her lip. He's drunk.

She notices David there too now, having more trouble standing upright than Killian is, but still pulling Mary Margaret to her feet. "It's no royal ball," he says. "But will it do for now?"

She doesn’t hear what her mom answers. She’s too distracted by the arched eyebrow and upturned lip that’s just shy of Killian’s usual swagger, slightly softened by his current state. But he looks so sweet and she remembers dancing with him at the ball in the Enchanted Forest and thinks it might be nice to do it again without the threat of never being born looming over her.

She puts her hand in his and he gives her a goofy grin, pulling her up and wrapping his arm around her, holding his hook out for her to take hold of. Oh right, he waltzes, she nearly laughs. He leads her to the little space between the seats and the jukebox, they’re in their own little corner here, away from the rest of the crowded bar, some eighties balad blasting through the speakers. Emma swears she sees David shoot him a thumbs up over Mary Margaret’s shoulder.

She knows it’s probably not proper dancing form but she lets her fingers slide from his shoulder up to the nape of his neck so she can play with the ends of his hair. He leans into her touch. She’s impressed when he actually attempts to lead them through the steps she can barely remember. He’s honestly not too bad at it, less graceful than he’d been last time but, considering the nearly empty bottle of rum, she gives him credit for standing right now.

He stumbles over his own feet eventually and chuckles softly, lightheartedly, and it’s nice to hear. “I fear I might not be quite up to the task at the moment,” he says, shaking his head. She laughs with him.

“That’s okay,” she tells him, pulling his hook around her so it can join his hand at her back. She slides her other hand up around his neck. “Why don’t I teach you how we dance here this time?” She steps into him, pressing her chest to his, and starts to sway.

His arms tighten, pulling her in closer. “So many wonderful things about this realm,” he starts, laying his forehead against hers. “But this might be my favorite yet.” She laughs a little, the slightly mumbled way his words come out betraying him again. She’ll tease him tomorrow. But right now he’s soft and warm and happy and he smells so nice, so she lays her head on his shoulder and dances with him in a dingy bar with her parents right next to her. It should be weird. But it’s not. It feels right. Probably because it’s him. No, definitely because it’s him.

Killian’s hand moves over her back, playing with her hair as he turns his head to nuzzle against the back of her neck. She’s pretty sure he doesn’t even mean anything by it when his fingers trail down her spine and settle on her backside. She’s not surprised, she’s well aware that he’s a fan of that part of her, and he’s still swaying with her gently. She is surprised that her dad isn’t causing a scene over it though.

She peeks over Killian’s shoulder and really wishes she hadn’t. Her dad isn’t saying anything because he didn’t notice, because he’s too busy making out with her mom, who is giggling and playfully swatting at his wandering hands. Oh god. She’s gonna be sick.

She makes a sound and Killian’s head pops up, follows her gaze behind him and a shit-eating grin spreads across his face. She glares at him.

“I cannot believe you got my dad drunk,” she hisses.

“I did not get your father drunk! He got me drunk!” Emma rolls her eyes and he smiles even wider. “I think I’m winning him over,” he winks. “And I think he would make a good drinking buddy.” Emma pulls back to look at him, her brows shooting up to her hairline.

“Where did you even learn that term?”

He just smiles. His hand gives her ass a squeeze - definitely intentional this time - as he pulls her in closer, pressing her hips to his as he runs his nose and then his lips along her jaw. Her heart rate picks up, it’s automatic at this point, her skin prickling everywhere it’s touching his, but she tilts her head away, enjoying the very put-out and slightly confused expression on his face.

“I am not making out with you next to my parents.” She looks over at them again, grimaces. “Even if they seem to have no problem making out in front of their daughter.”

Killian takes her chin between his thumb and finger, drawing her eyes back to his as he leans in, his lips a breath away from hers as he speaks, that wicked grin coming back. “Actually, Swan, I had quite a bit more in mind…” he trails off. Emma swallows.

“Then maybe it’s time we get out of here,” she suggests. And he nods so enthusiastically it makes her laugh.

“That’s a brilliant idea,” he tells her. “I always said you were brilliant.”

She turns them so that she can look over at her mom without having to leave his arms because she really doesn’t want to at the moment - and maybe she wants to save him the awkwardness of hiding the growing hardness she can feel against her stomach. Thankfully, her parents have stopped making out and are now just gazing dreamily into each other's eyes. That might be worse, really.

“I think we should get these two home,” she says and Snow looks over at her, confused at first but then nods, laughing as she takes in the state of their dates.

“Goodnight, Lady Snow,” Killian says. “Until next time, mate,” he says to David. Emma holds her breath but to her surprise, David smiles, reaching out to give Killian one of those weird, bro-ey handshakes where they just kinda clasp hands like they’re going to arm wrestle. David turns to Mary Margaret then.

“One more song,” he insists. “I picked the next one.”

“Okay, one more song,” she agrees, patting his cheek.

“Goodnight, Mom. ‘Night, Dad,” she says as she turns in Killian’s embrace to head out. He practically presses himself against the back of her as he follows.

“Night, sweetheart,” David says. “This was fun,” he adds - slurs.

Emma smiles. “Yeah, it was.” She waves goodbye to her mom who gives her one of those touched, happy smiles and then she leads Killian out of the bar.

His hand is on her waist the whole way through the crowd, fingers dancing along the edge of her shirt, sneaking under it, hot against her skin. His breath is on her neck and every few steps he leans down to brush his lips against it too.

They’ve barely made it outside before he’s pulling her out of the reach of the lone porch light above the door and pressing her against the wall. His lips fall over hers and his hand slips under her shirt, flattening against her stomach and sliding higher. Emma groans into his mouth, reaching up to grab hold of his hair, pulling him closer. His hips press against hers, pinning her to the wall as his hand finds her breast.

Emma gasps, throwing her head back and he takes the opportunity to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down the column of her throat. She needs to get him back to his ship now. But she also doesn’t have it in her to pull away, not when his hips are rolling against hers in a dirty grind and his fingers are shoving her bra out of the way.

She hikes her leg over his hip and he groans this time, grabbing hold of her thigh with his hook and keeping her there, the blunt curve of it digging into her ass. His mouth finds hers again, open and heady as he drags his tongue over hers, his breathing ragged. Her hands reach down to slip into his back pockets, pulling him harder against her and holy shit she’s definitely debating letting him fuck her against this wall when suddenly -

“Hey! Hands where I can see them, Hook!”

Her father’s voice is like a bucket of ice water being dumped on her. Killian freezes for a moment but doesn’t pull back. His lips curl against hers, his laugh puffing against her skin as he removes his hand from under her shirt and holds it up and out over his head.

“Hand and hook!” David calls again and Killian drops her leg to hold his other arm up as well. He kisses her again though and it’s so ridiculous, him standing there with his arms in the air while his lips and body are pressed to hers, her father threatening him from twenty feet away. She feels like a teenager and it should annoy her but it doesn’t, it makes her laugh. She never got this. She’s not saying she wants this kind of thing to happen all the time but she supposes there are still opportunities for her to get those childhood memories she missed out on.

“Good man,” David says before letting himself be dragged away by Snow. His own hands start to trail a little too low on her mom’s back and Emma shouts at him.

“Hands where I can see them, Dad!” David’s hands shoot straight up, like a perp, and she laughs. This whole thing, this whole night, has been ridiculous.

She slides her hands up across Killian’s back, wraps her arms around him and he kisses her once more, softer this time. “Thank you,” she says when he pulls back, tilting her head up to press her lips to his cheek. He bites his lip, smiling.

“Hmm. Well, perhaps some gratitude is in order…”

“You’ve used that line before,” she teases him.

He sighs. “Swan, your father poured an entire bottle of rum into me, forgive me if I resort to tried and true lines I know will work.”

“Pretty cocky,” she tells him, arching a brow and then regretting it immediately when she realises the opening she just gave him - well, not really regretting it.

He ruts his hips against hers and her breath hitches. “Oh, you have no idea.”

“Actually,” she answers, her voice catching a little. “I have a very good idea. So how about you take me home, sailor?”

“You’re full of good ideas,” he says, leaning in.

“Even date night with my parents?” she jokes and he halts before his lips touch hers, huffing out a laugh.

“Aye, even date night with your parents.” He kisses her softly and smiles sweetly at her. “It wasn’t so bad. I think your father might even be beginning to approve of me.” His grin turns sinful then and his fingers come up to brush over her bottom lip, continuing a trail down her chin to her neck and chest and stomach.

“Although right now,” he starts, brow ticking up at the way her stomach flutters under his touch and her back arches slightly. “I think I’d like to take you back to my ship and do a few things to you that he definitely would not approve of.”

#cs fanfic #cs one shot #cs fluff #snowing #snowing fluff #captain swan #smut adjacent #so goddamn fluffy

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lgbtpolitics · 4 years

Text

Realising I am a lesbian (this is gonna be long)

This is not something I talk about much because I see it as something personal and not for public discussion. Equally I feel that online discussions, especially on tumblr are steeped in this idea of "winning" an argument, "proving" you're allowed to say this or that and "owning" your "opponents" and I dont like my personal story to have any part of that.

But the recent discussion I was just having made me reminisce a lil bit so I'm gonna talk about it now. Because I feel like where I'm coming from on this is pretty relevant.

Something you need to understand is that I was not popular in primary school. I had like barely any friends. I basically got it into my head that I was more mature than everyone else, and I was like, so excited to go to secondary school. I watched all the rom coms about high school and I just saw it as my chance to be the super popular girl, that dates all the boys, and everyone loves etc. This fantasy of myself as the next regina George was something that really kept me going during that time. And I went to secondary school and tbh I got my wish- ofc real life isnt as dramatic as the movies, there was no dramatic walking down the halls with everyone in awe- but for all intents and purposes i was relatively popular, had my little girl gang, and most importantly, loads of boys fancied me. I got my first kiss age 11 and just felt I was succeeding in life. I subsequently got slapped in the face with the realisation that I was a lesbian.

Now this was like, unacceptable to me. I basically promised myself that it didn't matter, I was gonna stay closeted forever, I could still date boys, no one needed to know. This idea i had that my attractiveness to boys was my sole life force was not going away any time soon. So i did that. I dated boys, and I was enjoying it too. I knew I wasnt really into them (do not @ me about the ethics of that this is middle school it was never gonna last regardless) but really the whole point of dating them was to satiate my need to be the super attractive girl, not actual feelings. That was true before I realised I was gay and it was still true afterwards so yeah I was still getting that same buzz, the delight of realising someone's into me, scrutinizing him with my friends, gossiping about it- I was loving it. So far none of this is sounding very gay I know. The thing was these relationships would never last longer than maybe like 2 months. That's not that strange for that age group, hence why no one picked up on it, but after the initial hype wore down, after it became something in my life not a new adventure I was just bored and I started to hate it. I remember this would change really rapidly, almost overnight I would go from being so excited about him to just wanting him nowhere near me. I like kinda knew this was because of my sexuality but like I said, as far as i was concerned I could basically just be straight and only think about women in private so I didn't scrutinise it too much.

Anyway fast forward a few years of this. When I was 18 I moved somewhere new, much more accepting place with -SHOCK- other, out, gay people. This was like crazy to me and I came out to a handful of my friends. It was bliss honestly. However to my, and my friends, surprise I did not stop getting with guys after I'd come out to people. It was really weird for me, I just like could not stop seeing guys like a dating prospect. I was not actively dating guys but like sometimes kissing them at parties stuff like that. I remember thinking that I needed to stop getting with them if I wanted people to believe me that I was gay, but then thinking, if i need to try then surely I'm not gay, like what is this? So when I went to uni I came out as bisexual. I really wanted to come out at uni because i was ok with people knowing now, but I was scared of like making announcements to people so going away was like, my opportunity to just let people know when I first met them and it would be a casual thing. And I just decided I was gonna say I was bisexual because saying I was confused felt too personal to share with people I was just meeting but also if I was still getting with guys, any discussion of how I could be a lesbian also felt too personal so i was like ok I'm bisexual now. I dont mean this like I actively lied, I mean more like, I just told myself I must be, because i seemingly could not stop getting with guys.

So yeah for a couple of years I identified as bisexual. I basically changed my mind because of one event. What happened was, there was this guy on my course who like, I had noticed before, but not in an attraction way (not even fake attraction, like I had not even thought about him as hot, or someone i would wanna get with i just knew like who he was). And whilst out with some friends of mine, they were getting all giggly and gossipy about how cute this guy is. I just saw them like laughing about something and then one of them turned to me and said "Dont you think x is really fit?" And in that moment, suddenly, I thought he was really fit. I dont mean I lied and pretended to join I mean in that split second I suddenly started to feel something towards him that I did not before. And for some reason, this time I was acutely conscious of the fact that I did not find him attractive before she said anything. And this event really stayed with me and I was pondering it for ages, and started to realise that basically every guy I'd fancied up to that point I'd actually done the same thing with. Like I would have no inclination to get with a boy until he or someone else put the idea in my head. And I was latching on to that idea every time. And this feeling was not following through, I'm not gonna go into detail about sex I was having but basically yeah it didn't hold up. And just like that, I basically just realised that a lot of my attraction to men was the same as it was when i was 12 years old: all about about the idea of it and not really about them, or my enjoyment at all. I linked this back to my obsession with being this figure of "girl all the guys want", despite the fact that I was now studying science at university, not doing make up and nearly all my friends were guys etc, I'd basically entirely let go of this persona, but the impact of having spent my whole life was that I could not distinguish between someone I liked and someone I liked the idea of and I could see it really clearly all of a sudden.

Initially I thought it was just me. Like I'd concocted this image of myself that had convinced me I was bisexual for years. Up until I started reading about other lesbians experiences with this- I wasnt alone and I wasnt even the oldest person just realising it. That was another big factor was that I felt way to old to still be questioning my sexuality, especially considering I was now out of the closet, I was involved in a lot of lgbt activism and politics and I just felt a bit pathetic. Realising this was actually a really common experience, actually including feeling more of this "attraction" to men after coming out, was honestly not just a huge relief to me but also just made me feel more comfortable identifying as a lesbian, and not feeling like I had to justify every past relationship I'd had with men in order to do so.

Now I actually still have a lot of friends who think I'm bisexual. I do tell people I'm not, but they dont believe me a lot of the time, and I dont blame them. I understand that I got with a lot of boys and they just see that and think "shes definitely bi". They're mostly men, quite a few of them are straight and people just arent aware that this is a thing that lesbians experience. That pretty much concludes my story, and I just wanna say that the reason I'm posting this is not, as I said at the top, about "winning" this "argument" I was having, I just want people to see this stuff. I just shared contrpoints video where she talks about the same stuff, saying how one of my friends actually got in touch with me after seeing that to say he kind of could see what I meant about me being a lesbian. Call it comphet call it whatever you want. The point is, it is a common experience, and it is something people struggle with, even after realising that that's what it is, it doesn't go away when you put a name to it. Recognising it does help though, it's been a while now since I've even contemplated being with any man. Also when you do feel that stuff, it helps to just ask yourself if what you're feeling is attraction, or a buzz from the idea of it. Having an understanding that it's not just about forcing yourself but actually you feel something genuine, but that that something is not attraction really helps to understand it aswell.

#lgbt #lgbt discourse #lesbian #comphet #tallulah #gay #bisexual #coming out

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bohemian-rhapsody-slash · 4 years

Text

Thank you so much for writing and sharing this, friend! I love it and I’m so glad you like the concept 😊 your English is perfect too!

WARNING: dark dark verse, brief mentions of forced/abusive relationship

*****

Hi darling! So I'm a person who can't understand how Tumblr works so I tried to send you a small fic inspired by your posts via asks but it's really hard so I had to download the app and sign up and so on. I hope you would like this. I've never written a fictional text in English before.

Ps. I'm the "dash" anon and Russian dolls anon and many asks anon😆😆

***

DDV Second generation

When this student entered the room alongside others, David felt as if he had already seen him somewhere before. He examined the list of the class and his heart missed a beat. "May, Josh Harold", it said. David remembered his visit to Brian and Roger's house and the conversation which still caused him pain. He also remembered a boy who he met there - with a mop of brown curls and big baby blue eyes

During the class he observed the younger man - he must be about 20 or 21 now... and pretty damn smart to get the scolarship - David remembered this old crappy house of May family. It was unlikely that they could afford paying for their son's education.

Memories of what he'd heard in that house, of the photos he'd seen there, reminded him that he is an adult now. And he can try to help his mother. If he knew more about his earlier life, about his career in Queen, about his claim to Freddie that his father proclaimed "fake" and ruined forever... maybe David could find a loophole in law or something. This thought was terrifying because it was definitely gonna be difficult to destroy his parental family. But he would be happy to see his mother free of his rapist.

But David couldn't do any of this without Mays' help. So after the class he asked Josh to delay.

"Mr.Foster

"Don't you remember me, Josh?"

"Sorry... no"

"I visited your parents once. I'm... er... John Deacon's son".

For the first time in his life he referred to himself in such way. He thought that mentioning his father's name would alienate Josh. After all, it was his father who destroyed Brian and Roger's life and eventually their kids' life, too. They would live more wealthy and comfortable life if not for him.

Josh squinted and looked at him.

"I remember your visit, but unfortunately didn't recognize you face. My vision is rather poor, like my mother's, and I didn't have my glasses on. Sorry, Mr..."

"Please call me David" he interrupted. "I need to speak to you. If you have any spare time now, I would like to buy you a lunch and talk to you"

Josh seemed confused but agreed to his offer.

***

Several months later.

David and Josh were sitting next to each other on an old sofa in David's living room. They were looking at old Queen photos. Recently Brian had found an black and white film somewhere in their attic. Josh had two copies of each photo printed - one for his family and one for David.

Surprisingly, the May family had accepted his request and had given him copies of old photos, music records and documents. Some of them were from Freddie's heritage that he left to Brian and Roger in his will. But they thought that, as John's son, David had a right to look at all this.

Unfortunately, David still hadn't found any ways to rescue his mum from his miserable marriage to his father. But he still had hope.

Meanwhile, he just studied the brief history of a band called Queen and enjoyed spending time with Josh. The young man was kind, caring and accepting. David had never met such a non-typical Dom before. Listening to him and watching his attitude to other people, David has understood two things. First, that Josh is everything David's father wanted him NOT to be. He always used to say that such Doms are weak and pathetic, they can't fight to reach their success and they couldn't be loved by anyone. Josh told him that this is how his parents raised him. Gradually, David started to realise that he was wrong. The life of May family wasn't unhappy because of their poverty. Unability to buy luxurious things or to travel abroad didn't make them less kind to each other or love each other less. In fact, they had a lot of things that David and his brothers, born with a silver spoon in their mouths, lacked: like the attention of their father who never threatened to disown them, or family meals with table talks and jokes, or an example of happy marriage of their parents.

And what was the second thing David had realised?

He had realised that his father was wrong (again). Josh was lovable. And he knew it very well, because David was the person who fell in love with Josh.

"You know what my dad said to me yesterday?" whispered Josh. His curls almost touched David's face.

David looked at him inquiringly.

"He said that physically you are Ray Foster's son but, like, in your heart you are Freddie's son" answered Josh. He looked a bit confused and quickly added "I know that it may not sound as a compliment for you. But from my dad it's a real compliment..."

"It is", managed to whisper David. He felt tears in his eyes. He was happy and ashamed at the same time. He was ashamed for being his father's son and also for feeling this. He felt like he betrayed both his mother and father.

"Why are you crying?" he heard. "If I somehow..."

David shook his head. "I-I just hate it" he muttered. "This world. This life. Everything should be different. Good people shouldn't suffer like they do now. And people like me... just shouldn't be born"

He felt Josh hugging him.

"Yes, the world is cruel" softly said Josh. "It's ugly and injust. But we're born to bring some justice into it. I believe in it"

"But how?" asked David trying to stop crying.

"By loving other people. And fighting for what we love".

"Did your parents succeed in their fighting?" bitterly asked David and immediately thought that he might offend Josh by saying so. But he felt that Josh was smiling.

"A bit", he answered.

"Well, my mother lost his battle".

"Not completely", argued Josh. "He has you. A child who is able to ask questions. Who doesn't take this world for granted. Who is willing to change things. Who is capable of love"

David felt tears flowing down his cheeks. He hugged Josh and then kissed him without thinking. He immediately realized what he has done.

"Sorry sorry... I-I'm so sorry Josh... I shouldnt've... Sorry if I offended you"

"You can't offend me with this" said Josh "It's okay. Subs can kiss other subs, so why Doms are forbidden to kiss other Doms? It doesn't mean anything..." he paused and looked into David's eyes. "Unless you want it to mean something".

David didn't know what to say so he just kissed him again very shyly. Josh answered him and the kiss became more passionate.

They kissed for a while, their hands caressed each other's hair and backs but when David dared to slide his hand into Josh's pants, the younger man freezed for a second and whispered

"I think you should know... I've never had sex with another Dom... have you?"

David nodded. He felt sad again. "I-I had... lots of times. When I was at uni". He hid his face on Josh's shoulder. "I think I was kinda... traumatized by my mum's story and felt kinda... guilty or something. Wanted to feel what a sub feels. So I dated Doms and asked them to punish me... to hurt me... humiliate me. Because I always felt it's not enough for me".

Josh kissed his temple. "But it's not what a sub should feel, dear. A sub should feel loved. He should feel care and tenderness. He should feel safe. That's what I learned from my parents".

"I-I know" answered David. "It's just... I'm just broken. I repell you now, don't I? I'm a sick pervert".

He was sure Josh will stand up and leave him and never come back. But Josh kept hugging him.

"You're not sick or broken. You're just lost and misguided. I can be your guide".

#ibtyf!ddv #submission

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samaraclegane · 5 years

Note

hiii! just found your tumblr and i'll probably never leave until I read every fanfiction of the ineffable husbands you've wrote. since you're taking prompts, could you please write one where aziraphale calls crowley "my love" and tries to take it back as soon as he notices what he had just said?

author’s note: how very kind of you!!! that means so much haha, I’m working on writing more and more. just needing some prompts to come through! time and patience, I suppose, are the key ingredients. anyway! thank you for this lovely prompt; I hope you like this piece. (ps, love the profile picture!) :)

-it’s a slip of the tongue. no, really, that’s the story he’s going to take with him to the metaphorical grave, because any other explanation is simply unacceptable.

-he’s absently shuffling about the bookshop, looking for something or other, when Crowley decides it a fantastic idea to reach out and pluck a random book off of a shelf. he stops dead in his tracks, right in Aziraphale’s path, leaving the angel with no other choice but to ask him to move.

-Crowley looks intently at the book. this is the very first thing that takes him by surprise, because he’s never taken the demon for a being with an affinity for reading. he always figured he didn’t have time, between faking malevolent actions. perhaps he was right, judging by how Crowley’s eyes narrow, as though he can’t understand the words on the blurb.

-”excuse me, my love,” falls from Aziraphale’s lips as he gently lays a hand on Crowley’s side, in an attempt to move him aside. it takes approximately five seconds for him to realise what he’s said, and then he’s ballooning up, red as a tomato.

-”what did you say?”

-Crowley’s attention has shifted onto him. his gaze burns into the side of Aziraphale’s head as he tries to act nonchalant, tending to the books he had intended to originally, pretending like nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

-”I said excuse me,” he responds, cutting his actual statement short, fumbling about with a book nervously. “is something the matter, Crowley?”

-Crowley doesn’t respond immediately. he takes some time to watch Aziraphale, and the latter knows it. he can feel how hot the demon’s eyes feel on his skin, how very inspected he feels. he feels like a cheap painting in a fine art museum, like it’s obvious how he doesn’t belong. he swallows hard as Crowley opens his mouth.

-”did you call me...” he can hear the words before Crowley speaks them, so it sounds like an echo as the demon finally says, “’my love’?”

-he has a brief internal panic that feels as though it lasts a thousand years. he opts for denial, but he knows it’s not in his code to be able to lie well to somebody’s face, so he keeps his back turned on his friend.

-”no, I don’t believe I did,” he rejects the notion. “you must have heard me wrong.”

-”oh, I don’t think I did.”

-there’s a smugness to Crowley’s voice that irks him, yet he understands it completely. after six thousand years of them going on not-date dates and flirting back and forth, he’s finally gone to be the first to admit his true feelings.

-Aziraphale, in hope of convincing the demon more of his truth, swings around to look him in his shaded snake-eyes. even beneath the tinted glass, he can see the flickering chartreuse flame of his eye. there’s an undeniable excitement that erupts within his friend as the angel turns to him, though the latter can’t decide why on earth that is.

-”I most certainly did not,” he declares, sure to hold Crowley’s eye as best as he can, tipping his nose up proudly, emphasising how matter-of-factly he’s speaking (or, at least, trying to). “I would never.”

-Crowley gives him a pointed look through his glasses, raising his eyebrows in a way to show his utmost disbelief, and takes it upon himself to prove the angel wrong. he takes a step forward, nearing Aziraphale, who begins to flounder, at a loss for words already, and they’re only just about within a metre and a half of one another.

-”what are you doing?” his tone is bordering on accusatory. he tries not to sound afraid, but some fear seeps into his voice. strangely, though, it’s not fear of his friend, it’s fear of himself, and his deepest, darkest wants and desires. it’s fear of what he’ll do if Crowley steps any closer; it’s the fear of breaking down the walls he’s spent six millennia building up.

-”do you?”

-Crowley poses the question as though he should know what it means without any further inquiry. he shakes his head, confused, suddenly feeling any feigned confidence draining out of his body.

-”do I...” he pauses to swallow, hard. “do I what?”

-”do you love me?” there’s a softness to Crowley’s voice that makes Aziraphale, for the first time since their very first meeting, afraid to shatter him into a million pieces. he sounds weak, delicate, almost like he’s not a demon from the underworld, cast out for rebelling against God herself.

-he can’t quite bring himself to respond. in his head, he’s formed a list over the years of all the things that are bad about Crowley. he knows each and every reason why he shouldn’t love him, but then it all seems to go out of the window when Crowley removes his glasses and gives him that look.

-his glasses symbolise who he is. they show his shame, how he loathes where he comes from. they show his sense of self and style, in how he’s made them work throughout the ages. they show Aziraphale exactly who he is, make him remember exactly what he’s done, and yet he can’t take his eyes off of them.

-”are you trying to tempt me?” Aziraphale asks innocently, as though he knows no better. this question makes Crowley laugh, and he draws nearer. he comes so close to Aziraphale that he thinks he might just -

-oh. yes, there it is. after six thousand years, Crowley’s kissing him, and it feels glorious. he can’t imagine how this could ever be considered sinful, for these are the same lips he uses in prayer. the sweet feeling of Crowley’s lips against his own makes him hear a cacophony of the most beautiful hymns, and he never wants it to end.

-it does, though. their platonic-romantic kiss ends when the pair of them part, presumably because the awkward angle Aziraphale’s occupied arms lend them is, to say the least, uncomfortable. perhaps it’s something to do with them both being uncertain whether the other is as willing and wanting as they are, and wanting to check they aren’t forcing anything.

-by the time he manages to open his eyes, Crowley’s already looking at him. he thinks he should be afraid of the absinthe-coloured eyes, split in two by the blackness of his narrow pupil, but he isn’t. he can only admire the demon, in his entirety. for his good, for his bad, for his utmost, undeniable humanness.

-there’s a silent beat in which both of their hearts stop in sync, then the pair of them begin chuckling. it’s awkward in a gentle sort of way, in the way young lovers act around each other. and, Aziraphale realises, he’s just admitted they’re lovers.

-”yes,” he sounds hoarse as he speaks, looking up at Crowley through his lashes. “yes, I do love you. quite, in fact. it’s rather inconvenient.”

-this afterthought, though seemingly insulting on the surface, is understood by Crowley. the demon begins to laugh harder, tipping forward on his toes just a little, bringing him closer to Aziraphale. the proximity makes the angel believe they might just kiss again, which he finds he wants, and he lets himself want it this time.

-though, this doesn’t happen. all of a sudden, Crowley jumps back and, with a beaming smile on his face, begins to make his way over to the door, leaving the shop as though nothing great at all had happened.

-there’s a familiar sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that leads him to suspect Crowley had done all of that for some sort of strange dare. he supposes, logistically, this holds no real value, but the fear the thought strikes into his very core is immense.

-however, as the demon bursts out of the doors, he does a peculiar move, not dissimilar to one seen in an Irish jig, clapping his feet together with joy eminating from his person. he casts a look back at Aziraphale as he falls outward through the doors and speaks loudly, proudly, as he proclaims:

-”I love you too, angel!”

#aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #aziracrow #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #crowley #good omens #send some asks #send me questions #send me anything #send me stuff #send me asks #send asks #send me prompts #send me anons #send me requests #prompted works #prompted writing #mine

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clownbeep · 5 years

Text

This is gonna be kinda brutal. But I want to put it into writing

Big vent/whats been going on

Hah... I guess this is like my life story or some shit...

Trigger warning ahead.. Depression and a bit of gore/suicide talk so if you are sensitive to that please, for your own sake and mental state you might not want to continue.

For those who dont want to hear a pretty dark vent, I understand.

And those who are just scrolling by feel free to scroll past. I just personally want to get this out.

If you have dealt with emotional neglect/abuse and need to know it isnt in your head this might be the post.

By writing this it feels like hopefully someone else will read this and realise certain things are NOT healthy.

If you are questioning if you are being emotionally neglected/abused (im speaking in a parental sense but even romantically or sexually) im not someone to give you answers, but the fact you are questioning it raises some red flags. In a healthy relationship you dont wonder those things.

Sorry for the long prelude but heres what I wanted to say

Ever since I was young, ive had bad ADHD, manic bipolar/depression, and sensory issues.

I was diagnosed around 13 I believe. My family (I didnt realise it then) always showed pity. Like I was some wild animal that couldnt be tamed and there was nothing they could do. Id do and say stupid attention seeking things just to try and get a shred of empathy.

My family didnt care.

When I was in the hospital for a suicide attempt regaurding pills and my liver had a chance of failing.. None of my family members cried over me. But a family friend. Someone not. Even. Related. Wept over me.

My family didnt care.

I cant say they never cared. They give me food water and luxuries like internet and a phone. For that I am grateful.

But in many other ways they have hurt me faar more than helped.

Once I got out of a short term stay in an inpatient mental facility I desperately needed contact with anyone who would care for me.

I have a younger sister, quite young probably around 7 at the time. She was a close friend of mine for that time. Id hang out with her so often to fill the gap in love it felt my family didnt give. One day I walked into the dining room and overheard my mother and father talking to my little sister. They told her to keep away because I wasnt "stable" because I was "dangerous" and could give her bad Ideas. And with one single action my only friend at the time and way to find happiness was taken away.

My family did not care.

When I stay in bed every day for months on end not knowing which day ill snap and end it all.... I get called lazy.

My family did not care

When I beg for medication to make me a functional human being they brush me off for years on end. Im losing my grip. I can barely remember things that have happened last week because I try so hard to forget everything its my automatic response to everything.

When I cant get to sleep because all of the memories come flooding back and im hit by wave after wave of horrific memories and the feeling if worthlessness... When I cant watch any videos or read posts about families because it brings on unwanted memories and emotions....

Is it me being dramatic then?

When you hear your family openly mocking and laughing about how stupid and dramatic and fake trans people are... How weird and unnatural and mentally insane these people are not knowing they are the very reason grsm and trans suicides are so high...

Am I a liar now? Am I insane?

When I tried to talk to them about my mental health issues. They took my only way of contact and made me feel like it was my own fault.

My family didnt care.

When I was nearly passed out shaking in a bathtub covered in wounds and blood all over... They showed pity, then lectured me for an hour for not telling them or for being impulsive and basically cleaned my wounds and sent me into my room.

My family didnt care.

Yes. I do agree, they cleaned my wounds, the physical side of showing care. However emotionally they were not there.

When my father drinks so heavilly every day he is home from work that he forgets half the things he tells you and can barely function.. They lecture my older sister for having a glass of wine (legal age)

They did not care.

My sister (23) tried for so many years to cling to what little attention she would get by getting good grades and going to college... She realised that it changed nothing about how my family felt toward her.... She snapped.

My family did not care.

She starves herself for a disease she does not have, she uses religion as an exuse to be one of the biggest christian extremists I personally know. Half the days she doesnt eat... Other days she burns book and gets rid of items for being demonic.

My lovely sister used to be kind and quite normal. However she couldnt find comfort in what little live her family gave. Starved for care she turned to religion to un unhealthy degree. Finding any way to keep her mind busy. Now I worry she will end up in the hospital for weighing so little.

My family did not care.

My oldest sister (27) Is married to a continuously cheating husband who she keeps letting back into her life. She was raised with a failing marrige and doesnt seem to see when she should call it quits.

Not to mention her husband has touched someone legally under the age of concent. Did she report him to the authorities? No.

All of these horrific things stemming from bad parenting. Unhealthy relationships and neglect.

Neglect emotionally can cause just as bad things as physical neglect. They are both horrifically dangerous in different ways.

These are the only big things I can remember... Basically age 15 and below are a complete blur to me and I cant remember much of it without thinking for a looong time. Even then I cant remember a lot of it... I feel like ive lost my whole damn childhood. And it hurts more than if they had just hit me or physically harmed me.

Im not underplaying physically harm. But in my personaly opinion I would rather my family have beaten me badly because at least then id have an easier way to prove to people how severe the abuse was. You can see bruises and confirm broken bones... But years of feeling completely useless and being shut off from most of the world other than the internet... It fucks you up in a way I dont think can be healed.

I dont know if I can ever love myself or... Remember things. Its terrifying to think Ill post this and a few weeks later probably not even rememner unless its brought up. Or meeting people and having conversations... And they are just... Gone.

Gone.

I suppose the biggest reason im writing this is well... In the future I dont want to forget in some ways.. I want like to be 100× as awesome knowing itll start as soon as im out of here..

If I dont have anything to compare it too then what is the point?

Ive layed out basically most of what I remember

A large amount of time I look around and nothing registers... Everything is familiar but I cant remember anything for a moment or two.. I feel like my memory is slipping so fast and im terrified.. I cant do anything to stop it and I cant make my mood be stable without the medication my family cant be bothered to get ...

I suppose this is a bit of a vent. I know its kind of everywhere and unorganized..

If im honest.. Tumblr is the only place where people have given me a home I wish I had..

I came out as trans here... Everyone was so damn supportive.. I didnt say anything but I cried hard and the kindness.. It was amazing.. It was such a jarring difference to how I feel when I say anything in real life.

Ive met friends here and ive had some much fun here. If youve stuck around this far thank you so much.. If you didnt I dont blame you.

I just wanted to share what has been flashing in my head these past few days.. It hurts a lot and ive even considered suicide recently..

Im trying hard. As hard as I can.. I have no escape though.

I cannot leave home. I cannot escape. Im not being dramatic.

CANT

LEAVE

And its terrifying because I know without medication or at least being somewhere AWAY from family.... I feel like im going to break soon.

I dont want to do anything stupid.. But some days I cant think straight and do things that harm myself and its not good. Its not okay. Im aware that I need help but I have no idea where to go/turn.. I have no ID or drivers liscence.. I have no transportation to and from a job to get money so I can leave... I live in the middle of nowhere.... I just..

I dont want to lose touch. I dont want to do anything bad.. I want to be functional.. I want to do more than eat and sleep my life away because I have nothing else to do..

Im so damn sick and tired of this all.. And at times I really do feel like there is only one way out.

Its always there and I just feel like one of these days im gonna be pushed over the edge and not be thinking clearly enough to stop it.

Im thinking semi clearly right now which is my im posting this.. Because im afraid and alone.

I have nowhere to go irl I have no friends Irl i just have tumblr and media and thats it. I dont expect anyone to be able to help I just wanted to write this so anyone knows what happens if I leave media..

If I tell my family my issues they will blow me off again for the 11th time or so (not exaggerated)

And if I do something to get sent to the hospital and get the help I need the cycle will continue with them being pissed and me getting sent home in a month or less anly for my family relationships to get worse..

Im spiraling fuether and further and I cant keep up the facade of being fine. I need help. And i have no way to get it. Ive just been suffering for years...

Sitting around and doing nothing but using your phone or drawing or whatever sound fun in theory... But if thats all youve been able to do for years with little to no real life social contact its gonna mess with your head... I dont want to be a shut in... I just

I dont know what to do.

Im sorry for rambling. I will most likely delete this later feeling embarrassed I posted this...

Im just tired..

#trigger warning #triggering #may be triggering #vent #emotional neglect #emotional abuse #suicide #suicide trigger #gore warning #memory problems #ramble #rambles

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monikea · 5 years

Text

Norma Jeane Baker of Troy

[Disclaimer: this is not a review. I’m not a reviewer and have no idea how to write these; this is just a note to myself that I will be able to read when I’m 60 years old and which I share here, as paper might burn but the Internet never forgets :D]

Norma Jeane Baker of Troy, The Shed, NYC, 12-19 May 2019

New scene

Enter Ben Whishaw as Norma Jeane Baker

I’m not sure what to focus on here – the play or the fact that I FINALLY WENT TO NEW YORK. This past week was so full of, well, everything to me. I always dreamt of leaving Europe for a trip, but only recently managed to save money for that. I have been tremendously sad not to be able to see Ben in ‘The Crucible’, to the point that during the last show I sat on a beach in Spain and couldn’t focus on how lucky I was to be on a beach in Spain – all I wanted was to be in the Walter Kerr Theatre.

The funny thing is, if I were now to choose between ‘The Crucible’ (I saw a recording of it in NY Public Library last week) and NJBoT, I’d choose Norma Jeane without thinking twice. I saw this play 7 times in a row which, I think, speaks for itself.

In the end, I was so lucky as to go to NYC for 10 days with my Ben family, as I like to think of them, people who I know from Ben’s Facebook fan group. I will never take it for granted and it wouldn’t have been the same without them. To go to New York, for over a week, with my best friends, to see Ben Whishaw 7 times in a mind-blowing play – I still don’t know what I did to deserve it. I won’t name them here, as I’m not sure they wish to be mentioned, but one of them kindly offered to host some of us, and I was even more lucky to stay in a real Manhattan flat. In all fairness, this is what made the entire trip possible – or at least what made seeing Ben 7 times in a row from up close possible!

The pace was rather insane. Last time I slept so little was 10 years ago when I went on a summer camp to Portugal, where I was going to sleep at 6am and waking up at 8am to go to work. Just being in New York didn’t allow me to rest. Finally, after so many years of hoping, I was in the city of my dreams, a city where I could name all the buildings and streets without ever being there, just because everyone does know them right? After all, we are being bombarded with images of New York through different movies, series, songs, books. And this place actually does exist and is not just a Hollywood creation. We started every day bright and early (thanks to the time difference it felt like waking up at 12pm) and went off to see the city. Then, every night, we took subway 7 to Hudson Yards to go to The Shed. The only night we didn’t do it was Monday, when there were simply no performances – but trust me I’d have gone if they took place.

That’s enough about Fritz Lang and the city.

The first time we saw the play (12 May) I sat very far, I believe it was the 4th row from the back. Since I then saw it 6 more times, it wasn’t a massive loss, but overall I’d say two things: 1/this play had to be seen from close up, as the lightning was so dim, otherwise you wouldn’t see what happened on the stage and 2/ this play had to be seen multiple times. I truly believe seeing it just once wasn’t enough. It wasn’t like Shakespeare that everyone kind of knows and knows what to expect. I like to compare this play to Hamilton, which is my obsession number 2 (after Ben), where the text is so rich and full of references and innuendos, that it is actually best to come see the show already knowing the lyrics and backstory from listening to the soundtrack. Same happened here, the language or the text worked alongside the actors and I think if you just saw the play once, it wouldn’t make much sense and you’d miss a lot of its beauty. I was already familiar with the story of Marilyn before seeing it (although I did some extra research, read Euripides’ ‘Helen’ etc.), but I heard some people didn’t even know that Marilyn’s real name was Norma Jeane – good luck with that! Anyway, I digress. As we sat very far, I remember I had to lean forward and really strain my eyes to see what was happening. I could barely notice Ben painting his fingernails (it was more that I already heard he was doing it, which made me notice – otherwise it was too dark to see!) or couldn’t get the details of his lingerie or dance. The sound wasn’t bad, but I’d say in this play the visuals are equally important and I completely missed that part. So I spent the first performance pretty much hoping that the next one – where I was supposed to sit closer – would already come.

About 30 minutes after the show has finished, we spotted Ben coming down the escalator. We actually chose deliberately to go on that day (12 May) as that’s when we expected (and weren’t wrong 😉) that he’d win a BAFTA for his performance as Norman Scott (Norma, Norman… his best roles, trust me) in A Very English Scandal. He was alone and about to leave the theatre, but had a while for us – we congratulated him on the BAFTA, to which he just said ‘thank you’ (I’m quite sure he himself got to know about it only minutes beforehand) and then I talked to him about NJBoT, which was the first time that I managed to talk to him about the show at hand. All the previous times I met Ben, I was talking to him about his previous shows or just telling him general thanks. I don’t remember exactly what I said that Sunday, but it surprised me that I managed to say something about Norma. Most importantly, I asked if I can hug him and he just said ‘sure’ and my biggest dream came true and I hugged Ben for a while . He is the sweetest, kindest human being and has so much patience for his fans.

For the second performance, in the end with my friend we decided to exchange seats for even closer ones, as we didn’t want to go through the pain of seeing so little again. Oh Greek gods, what a difference did it make. I finally saw what was happening on stage! On Tuesday it still wasn’t the 1st or 2nd row, so couldn’t see Ben’s face very well, but oh my. I suppose here I will start my general thoughts about the play, irrespective of the day I saw it, as from Wednesday onwards I was sitting pretty much always in the 2nd or 1st row (just once – will get back to that). If I were to describe all remaining 6 performances in detail, this would become a book, not a Tumblr note and not sure anyone would even read it!

This play was everything my poor heart could hope for. Ben finally plays the main role (which is even more prominent since there are only 2 actors on the stage) and there is nothing to take your attention away from him. Renée only emphasizes his powerful presence on stage and in fact one of my impressions after seeing the play and having read it was that they both play the same person. After all, Norma says ‘I am my own chorus’ – and Renée was her chorus. Reflecting her/his thoughts (I will continue using the pronoun ‘his’ as in the text the character is designated as Norma Jeane, but on stage I think Ben played a male playwright, who only gradually becomes Norma), never negating anything, but giving him new ideas, as if they were formed in his brain and took a tangible form as Renée. I think there can be many interpretations here, but I particularly like this one, also because in the text of the play only one character is mentioned – Norma Jeane. Renée’s character isn’t mentioned anywhere in the text and was obviously added just to make it more stage friendly. It was really hard for me to take my eyes away from Ben throughout the play, but when I finally managed to do it, it was amazing to see how they exchanged looks and this interplay of emotions was what made it even more amazing.

The play tells a story of a playwright who creates a replica of Marilyn Monroe out of himself – both visually and mentally. He is mourning her and hires a scribe to write down his stream of consciousness about Norma Jeane. He gradually drops his own male clothes to put on the entire Marilyn attire, which is a beautiful… replica of what was worn back in the 50s (the longline peach corselette and matching panty girdle – not for the faint hearted!) together with Marilyn’s white fluffy mule heels, later on changed to her Seven Year Itch strappy sandals and the iconic white dress (there is an additional layer of white underwear that Ben puts on the girdle); ultimately he wears also the platinum white Marilyn wig. On the mental side, he gradually descends into the depths of Hades and ultimately kills himself, like Marilyn did. In the meantime, he plays ukulele (just like Marilyn), has numerous mental breakdowns, perfectly imitates her delicate dreamy voice (and that of Truman Capote), mocks Arthur Miller’s dimpled white buttocks and dances the entire sequence from ‘The Prince and the Showgirl’ (see here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZOkv4jV1-Bo) – more about that dance later on. One remark here – this play spoke so much to me because since I remember I always took style inspiration from my favourite bands and later on actors – even now I proudly wear my black Kanken, inspired by Ben. So yes, I completely understand Ben’s character here. He also adds the breasts, hips and bum padding underneath his lingerie (and moves like a ballerina) and here I must brag, but a kind message to all people who LAUGHED mockingly at it – please go back to primary school and… just stay there. There are two actors, who, in case you don’t realise are real people and laughing off at what they do onstage is just horrible. In case you laughed out of embarrassment, fine, I get that not everyone has to be comfortable with Ben Whishaw applying fake butt under his undies, but for god’s sake, please express it differently than by laughing and commenting. Or laugh internally. Or I don’t know. Good lord. And no, that wasn’t a moment which was supposed to make you laugh, like for example Ben imitating Capote’s voice.

There is this beautiful moment, about 30 mins after the show begins when Ben plays the ukulele and sings ‘I am that Persephone, Who played with her darlings in Sicily, Against a background of social security. Oh what a glorious time we had. Or had we not? They said it was sad. I was born good, grown bad.And isn’t that how it always starts, this myth that ends with the girl ‘grown bad’?, and Renée continues: ‘She’s in a meadow gathering flowers twirling her own small sunny hours’. (I might be a barbarian, but I truly don’t understand people who were like – wow, he dared sing on the same stage as Renée Fleming! – I am a newborn Renée Fleming fan, but come on people. He’s Ben Goddamn Whishaw :D). Suddenly the mood changes dramatically, when everything becomes dark and Ben says in a sinister voice ‘When up rides a man on black horses. Up rides a man in a black hat. Up rides a man with a black letter to deliver’… I don’t know how he does it but in this moment I see Hades in a black robe (yet Ben is still in his peach corset) who came to do something unforgivable. The entire story changes then, when Renée exclaims ‘rape’. ‘Rape is the story of Helen, Persephone, Norma Jeane, Troy’ they continue. Renée then sings ‘War is the context and God is a boy. Oh my darlings, they tell you you’re born with a precious pearl. Truth is, it’s a disaster to be a girl. Up came the black horses and the dark King. And the harsh sunshine was as if it had never been. In the halls of Hades they said I was queen’. That’s what they always say, isn’t it?

She sings it again just at the end of the play when Ben’s Norma Jeane dies and at that point I wasn’t crying, I was ejecting bodily fluids. Apologies to those sitting around me.

Back to Ben’s dance. This play is full of what in Polish I’d call ‘smaczki’ – little flavours that make this play the most tasty dish ever served. Ben’s voice changes, whenever he imitates someone; Renée’s gorgeous singing; the music which was composed uniquely of Renée’s mixed voice; the funny moments, which can so suddenly and unexpectedly turn into the most frightening scene, when in the middle of mocking Arthur of New York and Sparta, a phone rings and everyone is terrified. There’s an enormous amount of language play (language is a third actor on the stage, with gorgeous explanations of the etymology of Greek words – in fact, Ben has an English-Greek dictionary on the desk), there’s Ben playing ukulele and singing, there’s putting on makeup, there’s changing clothes, there’s shouting and throwing things around and then there’s the dance.

My god what Ben can do. WHAT THIS MAN CAN DO. He is so ethereal, lithe, yet with well-toned muscles and he suddenly starts to give this beautiful coy dance, where throughout he hides his face in charming embarrassment and smiles sweetly to Renée. This is one of the moments when I am almost angry that I have to translate my soul, as it would be so much easier to find perfect words for this in Polish, but at least my head is full of them. Writing about this dance (or this play) is anyway as futile as dancing about architecture. Ben looks perfect then, he is just perfection personified. With his little smile, his peach corselette (some other note here on Tumblr said that ‘Ben Whishaw should just exist in this corset’ and yes, he should), his bottle green male pants and the fluffy heels (the connection of the female corselette and the male suit pants is just… send firemen). On top of that, Renée sings like an angel and my brain is so overstimulated from listening to all those language games and being in New York to actually experience it that… (where are the firemen?!)…

But the thing is – and that’s why this play is so amazing – that when you actually find the superhuman power in yourself not to focus on Ben’s dance only, but to also listen to the song they play to it, your brain suddenly registers that something doesn’t fully stick – the music is super cheerful (note: it is not the same music as the one in Marilyn’s video from ‘The Prince and the Showgirl’) – it’s a typical 50s song with blurred voices, but the text is rather morose and it goes like ‘Dirt is matter out of place, matter out of place. A poached egg on your plate at breakfast is not dirt. The poached egg on page 202 of the Greek lexicon in the library of the British Museum is dirt. Dirt is something that has crossed a boundary it ought not to have crossed. Dirt confuses categories and mixes up form’ (I researched a bit and there’s an entire book on this topic, ‘Purity and Danger’ by Mary Douglas, where the main point being analysed is that what is regarded as dirt in a given spot is any matter out of place. What was considered clean in Sparta, wasn’t clean in Troy and vice versa. That’s the gist. Anne Carson I love you.)

Noone cries like Ben Whishaw. It really hurts all parts of my body to watch this. And it is so beautiful to watch Renée being concerned about him and the state he found himself in. One of the most beautiful scenes in the play is when Ben sits down at his desk and Renée very delicately takes his head in her hand and applies the fake eyelashes to his eyes, singing in a way that makes my heart break. There is so much love in this scene and acceptance and will of help and saying: I’m here for you and I will go with you on this journey.

And then suddenly you see he starts to take the pills and swallowing them with the fake theatre champagne and that’s when I start ejecting bodily fluids again. Renée comes back with her ‘Up came the black horses and the dark King. And the harsh sunshine was as if it had never been. In the halls of Hades they said I was queen’.

I suppose this text I wrote now will never be finished as memories and new realisations will keep on coming back to me and that’s where the beauty of this play lies – it’s an endless fishing ground for references and innuendos, interpretations and new things to be understood. But, enough for now.

I talked to Ben 3 more times after the play, on 14, 17 and 19 May. I now barely remember what I said precisely, but on Tuesday I told him how utterly enchanted I am by this play and that it talks about so many important things to me and doesn’t seem strange at all. Sunday was mad, as one can expect after the end of a run, with a long queue of fans (I gave Ben bright red roses, thanked him for the umpteenth time and complimented his new shirt, which he bought on Friday – don’t ask how I know it, I’m just a very careful observer LOL. He is my style guru, so I had to haha). With my friend we even managed to chat to the CEO of The Shed, Alex Poots, who was so amazed that we saw Norma Jeane 7 times, that he took out his iPhone and asked us to record a video where we recommend the show (bit late for that on the last night, but he can rest assured that I will be back!).

But Friday was just something else. Perhaps it was the power of red wine or the fact that Ben was going home alone and not with Mark or friends, but we approached him together with quite a few other fans and I swear to god, we had the funniest ever chat with him. To put it briefly, Ben was surrounded by around 10-15 fans and chatting to us in a very lovely, cheeky way (I love his sense of humour. I love everything about him, but that night it was just too much). Like imagine it. Someone asked him ‘Ben, what is the perfume that you wear?’ and he goes ‘Oh, it’s this, wait, I’ll show you’ and he took the perfume out of his tote bag and demonstrated it to everyone, gaining a round of ‘Awwwwwwww’. I still can’t believe it happened haha. One of my friends asked if he saw and liked Bjork and they chatted a bit about it and then Ben asked us if we did see her too, to which I replied ‘no, because we saw ANOTHER SHOW’. I could see that he was thinking and then suddenly it clicked, but I guess by that time he was perfectly aware that some of us saw it 7 times haha. He also told us ‘Don’t sit again in the first row, I can see you all’ (that’s what I meant when I said I will get back to the issue of sitting in the 1st row :D). Sweet lord. Best week of my life.

Exeunt omnes singing.

#normajeanebakeroftroy #BenWhishaw #reneefleming #theshed #nyc #annecarson #marilynmonroe #arthurmiller #helenoftroy #persephone

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cassianjerons · 5 years

Text

fandom compliment 💕

so since today is the birthday of one of my favorite people on this hellish website and they decided to help host a fandom compliment day in honour of it - because that’s the kind of wonderful and thoughtful human rust is - i am going to attempt to do them justice by sending some kind words to all the wonderful people who shaped my fandom experience over the past two and a half years in all kinds of beautiful, thoughtful, hilarious and amazing ways.

i never made some overdramatic “i am leaving the fandom” post, because for one that’s not me, but also because i might have been able to quit the show, but i don’t have any interest in quitting on the people. and this feels far more productive anyway.

oh, and if you hadn’t realised yet, hello again, it’s the artist formerly known as @vicbartons! so let’s do this thing:

(under a cut, because this is going to get really long and quite possibly soppy)

(also go and send rust @rustandruin some love for their birthday while you’re at it, because they deserve it)

@aarobron lucy! my football buddy! seriously, if you happen to have sold your soul to a football club like the two of us have, lucy is the one you want to talk to about it. but aside from the fact that this girl is a wealth of football knowledge, she also happens to be hilarious and smart and passionate, which makes her a freaking joy to talk to at all times.

@aarondingel haley is an absolute angel of a human who is full of love and support for the people she cares about. she’s thoughtful and kind and there is no one else in this world i would rather vehemently disagree about fiction with than her. bantering, chatting and laughing with her has been one of my favourite things about being part of this fandom and let’s not forget about how she always fills my dashboard with all kinds of gorgeous gifs.

@aceliv rhia has the kindest soul and the biggest heart and never fails to brighten up my dashboard with her positive energy, which is worth a hole damn lot on an average day, but even more so in a fandom that at times tends to drown in negativity and upset.

@bartsugsy this fandom and i personally would be so much poorer if it weren’t for lo’s wit and humour and her talent at boiling everything we love about emmerdale and robron into perfect text posts. her blog is always a joy to read and at the end of the day that is down to what a wonderful, thoughtful, kind and caring gem of a human lo is.

@capseycartwright lorna is honestly an inspiration in about a hundred different ways and seeing her learn and grow and achieve her goals over the past few years from afar has been absolutely wonderful. she’s smart and thoughtful and witty and compassionate. honestly, lorna comes across as the type of person, who you hope to run into when you're sad and drunk in a club bathroom because there is no doubt in my mind that she would have tissues and good advice at hand for you before calling you a taxi. and don’t even get me started on how freaking talented of a writer she is.

@charitydingle kayleigh is cool and witty and fun and kind and just a joy to follow. also, she loves charity and everyone who does is a goodun in my book.

@dingleminyard so. much. freaking. talent. all of coralie’s gifs and edits are art and we’re lucky to have her around.

@dingletragedy sophie! quite possibly my mutual with the best taste in music? maybe so. chatting with her is always a blast because she’s not only witty and lovely but also incredibly talented and being able to follow along as she started dipping her toes into writing over the past few months has been an absolute joy, especially because of how brilliant she is at it. and not to get too soppy on main, but after seeing her struggle every now and again in the past but also work so damn hard, i just hope that she is at least as proud of herself for graduating uni at the moment as i was when i saw that pic of her and her flipping finished dissertation this past week.

@escapingreality51 amelia is an inspiration tbh. seeing her struggle with her mental health and bad brain days but always getting back up again, fighting, and turning her feelings and experiences into some of the most emotional, heart-felt, real and beautiful writing i have ever seen is incredible and i hope that she is incredibly proud of herself for all of it. seeing her grow and achieve her goals has been the most gorgeous side product of following her blog, though just having her kind, calm and caring presence on my dashboard would already have been enough. she’s the kind of person i would never hesitate to come to with a problem. she’s also the kind of person to write fanfiction that will make you want to fall in bone-shaking, devastating, can’t keep your heartbeat under control kinda love.

@forgottenwounds there are few people on this site i have talked to as much over the past two years as erin and i wouldn’t want it any other way. discussing things with her never failed to make fandom more fun to me and because she’s not only fun and a sucker for details, but also incredibly smart and opinionated in the best of ways, i rarely leave our conversations without feeling a little bit smarter than before or having gained a new perspective on things and it’s the absolute best. she also happens to be a badass at work, putting in tons of love and effort and time into making the word a bit of a better place and i respect the hell out of her for it.

@frecklysugden lauren is kind and funny and caring and i wish she would wake up every morning seeing herself the way i and so many others see her, because she is a ray of sunshine and smarts and wittiness and deserves to take on the world and make it her own. she also happens to be able to write stories that will feel like a punch to your gut in all the best and worst ways and have you crying happy or sad tears into your pillow at two in the morning, because you just couldn’t resist clicking that “next chapter” button just one last time before going to bed. also, sidenote: quality taste in music. that feels a bit tagged on now after all the soppy stuff, but it needed to be said.

@inloveamateursatbest claudia has great taste in tv. let’s start with that, because that is what has lead me to have some of the best, most thoughtful and most fun conversations on this hellsite with her. just talking to her about stuff often makes me feel a little bit smarter and there is no one i would rather scream about skinny, blonde, nightmarish male characters who are hiding a massive heart under layers and layers of insecurities and issues with than her. that aside, she also happens to be an incredibly kind and thoughtful human, with a heart full of wit and gold. what more could you really ask for?

@inthedreamatorium keri and i have sadly never talked much, but she is just one of those hilarious, warm and wonderful presences on my dashboard that i don’t want to imagine my tumblr experience without.

@josephtate the first thing i think about when i think of fiona, is how her fics always manage to feel like a hug or cuddling up under the covers with some tea and a good book, all warm and soft and homely. and it’s the most beautiful. she also happens to be way cooler than i could ever hope to be and just a really kind, lovely, talented human with a wicked taste in music and food.

@justleavemebreathless the gifs! the video edits!! how can a single human be this freaking talented?? and then she also has the biggest heart and is this supportive and positive and lovely?? sounds fake, but it’s not and this fandom is better for having jacqueline in it.

@lesgayliennesdangereuses kate always feels like one of those really rare “best of both worlds” kinda humans. quick-witted and sharp-tongued, but also incredibly kind and thoughtful. critical and intelligent, but also passionate and hilarious. she doesn’t take shit, but still always shows compassion and heart. basically, she is the kind of person who can go back and forth between shitposts about robert and aaron’s horrible fashion choices and thoughtful, educational posts about social justice issues or sexuality with an ease that’s impressive and wonderful.

@letthe3000rain the blog where sarcasm and not taking shit from dumb anons were born. everyone should have a blue on their dashboard as a palette cleanser from all the insanity of fandom and as a witty voice of reason that reminds you that some things maybe shouldn’t be taken so damn seriously. also to excessively discuss the affair era, because that ish is important.

@littlelooneyluna nicole is an absolute wizard with words! the emotions she can pull out of you with just a few lines of dialogue is not only astonishing and wonderful but also an inspiration to everyone who’s ever tried their hand at writing themselves. and that’s before you even touch on the fact that she is one of the kindest souls around, never shy to compliment and support anyone who might need it.

@longlivethefreakinme camille is a funny and supportive angel of a human and i wouldn’t want to imagine my fandom experience without her in it. last but not least, because she shares my love for robert and victoria’s relationship and her blog is always one of the best places to go to for anyone in dire need of a good affair era fix. especially when she stumbles down an emotional rabbit hole again and takes you right down with her in the best way.

@luststricken hannah is an absolute babe, with a plus taste, who makes my fandom experience better just by existing. she’s a wonderful ray of sunshine who fills your dashboard with quality gifs as well as the perfect mix of positive attitude and banter. that and we all need a friend who supports our irrational hatred of a certain adele song that everyone else is weirdly obsessed with, even though it’s overplayed and she has literally dozens of better ones in her repertoire, you know?

@prettyboysugden lucy knows what she’s about and i respect the hell out of her for it. she stands her ground no matter what, but beyond that, she has an incredibly big heart and a kind soul and if that’s not the perfect mix i don’t know what is. oh, and have we talked about her damn writing yet? because dear god, it’s gorgeous.

@robertisbisexual malorie is as outspoken and true to herself as i can only hope to be on my very best days and it impresses the hell out of me tbh. smart and witty and a force of nature, she’s the kind of person you want on your dashboard when everything and everyone around you seems to be drifting off into bullshit territory once again. nevertheless, mal never fails to be kind and thoughtful and considerate. oh, and because all of that apparently wasn’t already enough, she’s one hell of a writer as well. (she’s also a demon who loves to torture me personally with pictures of a certain freakish looking taxidermy faux pas, but i love her anyway.)

@robertjacobsugdens i have rarely met someone on here who was as well-spoken and thoughtful and just astonishingly smart as alex is. when alex takes on a topic of discussion, you can be sure that she isn’t going to half-arse things, but that instead she will show you a different perspective or teach you something you didn’t know before or maybe get you to look up a thing or two on wikipedia, because hearing her talk about things and issues she cares about makes you want to know more about them as well. aside of that, she also happens to be incredibly funny and witty and one hell of a writer. like, dear god, you do not want to know the number of times i have reread each and every one of her AUs…

@sapphicsugden siri always inspires me to try and be a better writer. that’s the first thing that comes to my mind when i think of her, because she is just that ridiculously talented. the way her writing takes you on an emotional journey with every carefully chosen word and phrase is mind-blowing and wonderful and deserves to be screamed at from rooftops tbh. but beyond that, siri is one of the most supportive, intelligent and kind-hearted people i have had the pleasure to meet on this website.

@smittenwithsugden first of all, happiest of birthdays, pauline! i hope it’s an amazing one. now on to the compliments. pauline’s was one of the first emmerdale blogs i stumbled upon and also one of the first fanfic writer’s whose work i read, so i should just take a second to thank her for introducing me to this wonderful mess in the first place. in a lot of ways, she also feels like one of the fandom’s mums. she is the queen of organisation: translating clips, keeping track of directors and writers, planning events left and right and spreading positivity and love while she is at it. her blog is just this wealth of information and support and it’s a gift!

@sugdensquad millie is the person in this fandom who got me into reading wips. who had me desperately waiting for a new update the second i had finished her latest chapter of fic. who dragged me deep into her stories with her insane ability to slowly build a narrative and dig deep with characters and the way she takes all the things you love from canon and somehow manages to make them so much more. who had me reading tens of thousands of words in a single evening when it had been months since i’d last managed to actually finish a book. because that’s how talented she is. and on top of that she also happened to be a wonderful bean when i got talking to her much later on. 1000/10. would recommend.

@thesnowyswan rae has the most supportive and loving energy around. she’s also unafraid to dig deeper and tackle big questions and issues and reading her takes on things, be it through the lens of her fanfic (and goddamnit she is one hell of her writer and reading her work never fails to inspire me) or in her posts always gets me to think more deeply about stuff myself and see things from a new perspective, and i appreciate the hell out of her for that. she’s the kind of person i would always trust to go to for advice, knowing that i would be getting a thoughtful, kind and compassionate answer no matter the issue.

@wycombewanderer husna feels like a breath of fresh air amidst fandom craziness. the way she always comes across as calm and collected and eloquently speaks on all kinds of issues and topics and never fails to teach me a thing or two on the way is not only impressive but also something i massively appreciate. beyond that, she also just has a genuine, warm and kind energy about her that makes my fandom experience far more enjoyable than it would be without her around.

#robron fandom compliment day 2019 #look at me getting over my tagging people anxiety #to make this happen #(also i wrote most of this on my phone so pls excuse any and all typos)#(also i probably forgot a bunch of people and i am very sorry i love ya)

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mysteli · 5 years

Text

freaky-fridayed (es crack one-shot)

A/N: now this fic is basically just a bad joke and i had the idea when i watched jumanji 2 today. got reminded of the scene in the last endless summer chapter where michelle and aleister switch bodies. thought it would be pretty funny. all the rights go to choices and the jumanji 2 script. hope you enjoy this!

Warning: just a few inappropriate jokes

Words: 1775

PERMA TAG LIST: @brightpinkpeppercorn@cocomaxley@hopefulmoonobject@alesana45 @jellybean-marshmellow@mymandrake@regrettingnathan@dobie2112@princessstellaris@mechaspirit@skyila @mind-reader1 @xo-endlessmayhem-xo@sakaily@justboredtrash@regina-and-happiness@annekebbphotography. @endlessly-searching-for-you@reginasayeed@zigortega4life@eileendannie@diamondoasis@speedyoperarascalparty@emomoustache@lostlightningbug@endlesstaylormckenzie @alekai-sayeed@akrenich@vickypoo91@nitta-jaeguet@femmeshep @hayden-park@mkatschoicesblog

Let me know if you wanna be tagged! 💗and let me know if the tags work because Tumblr is acting up.

Masterlist

ENDLESS SUMMER FAN FICTION FREAKY-FRIDAYED

It feels like forever since they’ve been walking. Exhaustion is kicking in everyone as they slowly trudge through the trees, trying to make their way back to the Vaanti. Luckily, they were able to escape the MASADA complex before Rourke managed to catch them. Good news is everyone is happy and healthy. Well... almost everyone.

Michelle and Aleister definitely suffered the most in the aftermath of this crazy mission. Everyone may be alive and well, which is a clear relief but... Michelle and Aleister still lost contact with their bodies. That’s right. In the words of Diego, they’ve been Freaky-Fridayed! Of course, this isn’t the worst thing that could have happened but to them it is.

What makes it worse is that it’s extremely amusing to the rest of the group, especially Craig and Zahra, who have been teasing the switches two about it since they escaped. So far, there hasn’t been a real way to reverse it but there is hope that the Vaanti might know what to do.

They’re about halfway back to Elystel, when suddenly Michelle (in Aleister’s body stops walking) clutching her knees out of exhaustion. “Oh my god... Aleister. How do you walk on these?” She questions in disbelief, causing Aleister (in Michelle’s body) to swerve around and narrow his eyes at her.

“The real question is, how do you walk around with all this makeup caked on your face? Especially when it’s this hot out and it feels like your face is melting the entire time! The only perk is making you look and feel slightly less terrible. It’s preposterous!”

Everyone else stops in their tracks, watching the situation play out with curiosity.

Michelle shakes her head harshly, pointing sharply at Aleister. “No, dude! Don’t be putting posh ass words in my mouth!”

“Oh really? You’re not a fan of that? Well then I’ll just do it more!”

Before Aleister can play out his joke, Sean steps in and forms his worried expression that painfully convincing, especially in situations like these.

“Can you guys please calm down? We’re gonna get to the Vaanti any faster with you two fighting this way?” Sean complains, folding his arms solemnly and eyeing the two with expectance, signalling for them to set aside their differences and wait patiently for this to be over.

“Fine. I refuse to apologise however!” Aleister clarifies, throwing his hands on his hips and stomping towards the front.

“Yeah. Well, I wasn’t gonna fucking say sorry either!” Michelle calls after him, squinting as Aleister wanders off in a huff.

The journey continues back to the Vaanti and things only seem to get worse and more awkward as the adventure goes on. Michelle and Aleister share unmissable glares from time to time and it’s insanely clear that they cannot wait to be back in their own bodies. Safe and sound.

Suddenly, Michelle pauses once more and pokes Sean’s shoulder, alerting him to look at her and he can’t help but reveal his shock and alarm when he’s reminded about the whole freaky friday situation. He takes a deep breath and shakes off his surprise, forming a small smile.

“What’s up... Michelle.” Sean struggles to get her name out while only seeing Aleister’s appearance before him.

“Sean... this may be kinda awkward and I’ve been dreading it for about an hour now but... I really need to go the bathroom.” Michelle abruptly declares, her embarrassed tone a mere whisper and Sean furrows his brows out of confusion.

“Can’t you hold it in?” He questions and Michelle simply shakes her head.

“Ah shit.” Sean curses under his breath, hesitantly turning to Jake for assistance. “Yo, Jake. We got kind of an emergency over here.”

Jake pecks his princess on the forehead before following Sean over to Michelle. He barely manages to hold back a laugh when he notices her. “Well, fuck. Don’t you look happy?”

“Shut the fuck up, Jake.” Michelle snaps, clenching her fists out of annoyance.

“Now, now. Malfoy would never swear. You gotta at least get in character, Meech.” Jake counters, his classic smirk making an appearance and Michelle is too tempted to slap him in return. “I’m kidding. What’s the problem?”

Sean reluctantly exhales and prepares to speak. “...Michelle needs to use the bathroom.”

Jake barely stifles a laugh, biting the inside of his mouth hard. “Oh... were like a couple of miles from the Vaanti. Can’t it wait?”

Michelle shakes her head in response. “If you make me wait... I will piss in Aleister’s pants.”

“Holy shit. That might actually be funny!” Jake retorts, clapping his hands together proudly and releasing an ounce of his laughter before being silenced by Michelle’s deadly glare. “What exactly do you need from me then?”

“I really don’t wanna do this alone so can you like... show me how it’s done?” Michelle awkwardly requests and Sean and Jake are immediately repulsed.

“Please tell me you’re joking!” Jake pleads, running a hand through his sandy hair in slight embarrassment.

Sean raises an eyebrow in suspicion. “Come on Meech. You had to have heard it the way we heard it, right? It’s... weird.”

“Trust me, boys. This is much weirder for me than it is for you. I won’t look, I promise! You just need to tell me what to do!” Michelle tries to reason with both men and it’s clear their resistance is beginning to break.

Sean glances at Jake timidly, shooting him an unreadable look. “Uh... she’s got a point, Jake. She said she won’t look so...”

Jake is still clearly not convinced, face palming hard. “So what?! Why not ask Raj or Craig or even ask Aleister how his dick works!”

“Come on... its not that bad. I promise we’ll never speak of it. Just tell everyone we’re taking a break and going to collect some firewood or something?” Michelle suggests and that seems to be Jake’s breaking point.

“Fine.”

So they come up with the excuse and they go to “collect firewood”, which will be the result of this story no matter what. This will never be spoken of by any of them. They can’t risk embarrassment over something this fucking ridiculous. It’s so weird and confusing but if it’ll help Michelle, they should probably do it.

They find a deserted, secluded part of the woods. Soon, they feel safe that no one or anything will pass by. It’s a mostly empty island anyway, who would come by? With that, Michelle, Sean and Jake all find a tree, spaced out but still close. Sean and Jake are especially careful about where they hide themselves because they’re not ready to reveal their... privacy to Michelle quite yet.

Michelle watches in amusement as Sean adjusts himself behind a rock, making sure the bottom half of him is not in anyone’s view. “Sean, what’s the big deal? I’ve seen your dick hundreds of times.” She suddenly claps back and Sean’s eyes widen with shock. Jake scoffs mockingly and chuckles like there’s no tomorrow.

“Still, Michelle! We’re not with each other like that anymore so it’s weird plus... you’re Aleister!” Sean retorts but his words are mostly weakened by Jake’s obnoxious laughter.

“Tell me, Chanel. Is it big or small?” Jake randomly asks and Sean launches a jagged rock at the pilot in reaction. Michelle just raises an eyebrow skeptically.

“Oh, are you interested, Jacob?” She teases and Jake’s expression falls defensive instantly.

“What? Fuck no. It was a joke.”

Sean decides to play along with the joke, smirking slyly. “Are you sure, Pilot? You sure you haven’t been thinking too much?”

Jake just falls quiet and a momentary silence intoxicates in the air, making the energy even more awkward then before. By then, Michelle feels a desperate urge to chime in.

“Okay... so how do we do this?”

Sean swallows hard, realising the moment he’s been dreading is finally here. “Oh... it’s, uh, easy. You unzip... take it out... fire away.” He instructs and Michelle processes his words as Jake clears his throat to add an extra thing.

“Remember to aim, Maybelline. It’s very important.” Jake mutters and another silence invades thanks to his unusual words. He simply shrugs his shoulders in return. The only sounds heard are the guys (and Michelle) unzipping their pants and preparing to ‘fire away’.

The icy silence is suddenly broken by Michelle gasping as she begins to act out Sean’s instructions. “Oh my god, guys! There is literally a penis attached to my body right now! Though, I really wish it wasn’t Aleister’s penis because this is an image I will never be able to erase from my memory.”

“Oh god... I don’t even wanna know what that looks like.” Jake chimes in, forcing a fake vomiting sound effect and Michelle giggles in response.

“Still, it’s kinda cool! Oh my god, this is so weird.” Michelle’s growing excitement is kind of worrying. “Logan! Come look at my penis!”

“No! Don’t you dare bring Princess over here!” Jake snaps and Michelle shakes off his irritation.

“See it’s not that bad, is it Meech?” Sean assures, turning to face Michelle only to find her tilting her head in an attempt to catch a glimpse of Sean. “What the fuck, Michelle?” He reacts, moving his body further away from her view. “You don’t look over here!”

“Sorry.” She responds idly, clearly unfazed.

“You never look... it’s a thing.” Jake informs Michelle and she nods understandingly, turning her head back towards the situation before her. She narrows her eyes, trying to focus.

“Ok... good boy. We’re gonna take this nice and slow and no one is gonna get hurt.” Michelle adjusts the pitch of her voice and it’s almost as if she’s communicating with... the penis? Jake and Sean share a look before barely holding back more laughter. “Now what?”

“Blast off!” Jake exclaims. “And aim! Don’t forget to aim!” He adds once again, causing Sean to eye him skeptically.

“What is with you and the aiming? Seriously, Jake, what happened to you?”

“Can we not talk about this in mixed company?”

All of a sudden, their confrontation is interrupted by the slow sound of liquid dripping down the rock. Clearly, Michelle has finally done it. “Wow... wow... wow!” She’s genuinely amazed that she’s managed to pull this off. “Oh, this is so much easier!”

“Right?”

“Yeah, because you have like a handle!” She exclaims. It’s almost frightening how fascinated she is by this. Before, she was complaining her ass off about being in a male body but now it’s appearing like she never wants to leave. “The fact that I’m not instagramming this right now is insane!”

#kind of an uneven ending but I hope you enjoyed it none the less #playchoices #choices #pixelberry #choices stories you play #fan fiction #crack fic #choices crack fic #endless summer #es #choices es #Jake mckenzie #Sean gayle #michelle nguyen #writing

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