#lgbtq+ fic recs

[pluralsword]

Transformers Fanfic Recs

Hey so, we remember there being talk about starting up fic recs again, so we went and made a fic rec bookmark collection with different subcategories (short fic, short shipping fic, and long fic or series) on Ao3! For most of them we haven’t commented what we liked or not, just two where we mentioned something that squicked us but we enjoyed the work and think it’s good. We don’t have the spoons really to do reviews of them or add captions. Here’s a snapshot of the bookmark lists, which are set up to be randomly listed:

From the overall bookmark list: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Fics_Pluralsword_Recomends/bookmarks

Above is an image of Ao3 bookmarked works, the three listed are:

1) Day 2: Pink by GemmaRose (she’s a fantastic writer of sapphic and lesbian robot stuff)

2) How to Be A Bike by PrimeRadiant (I really love his stories, they have such a unique viewpoint on transformer-organic relations, alien parallels, how their code and language would work, and gestalt stuff and martial arts)

3) Cybertronian Tales! #0 Prologue by sofie_the_trans_girl (the series is incomplete right now, but if you want to read some action set during the WW1 era with Anode as a biplane of the time working with Marissa Faireborn, highly recommend this)

And as an example of short shipping fic recs: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Short_Ship_Fics_Pluralsword_Recomends

Above is an image of Ao3 bookmarked works, the three listed are:

1) Day 23: Arcee & Greenlight by GemmaRose 

2) Roadside Attraction by Lush Specimen (this Arcee/Aileron fic they wrote is so fun and cute, with a lovely depiction of emotions, we want to read their longer fic Raiders of the Lost Forge but haven’t had the chance)

3) Is It Gay to Ask Your Friend out by birdwhythis (absolutely hilarious Nautica/Velocity fic. Haven’t read a lot of their stuff otherwise but we enjoyed this fic)

There’s a bunch of other writers and fics in three collections put together, over 76 bookmarks so far. In regards to the ship fics, most of what we read for that is sapphic/lesbian or similar content, so if you’re having a hard time finding something like that and want something that isn’t erotic (there’s one or two fics on there that hint at eroticism about as much as the queer robot canon does these days for humor) hopefully this list helps! There are more on our reading list we haven’t gotten to yet, and we will eventually venture into reading longer fics more :3

[chris-in-the-headlights]

I want you to imagine that Charles and Erik dated during First Class.

I want you to imagine that everyone in the team knew and had no problem with it. That after the satellite dish scene, they kissed.

I want you to imagine that someone in the team (let’s say it’s Sean) had a knack for photography. That he took a picture. That Erik, in a stroke of romanticism took it and wrote on its back.

Now I want you to imagine that, many decades later, Charles has a photograph on the far back of the drawer of his nightstand. That it’s a picture of two young men kissing tenderly with the flora of Westchester on the background. That the words “The point between rage and serenity” are written on its back. That he only takes it out in his worst moments. A reminder that even the worst of sinners have the potential to be God’s favourites.

Why are you imagining this? This never happened. No one had a knack for photography. They never kissed. They never said “I love you”.

If you’re a writer or an artist , this is a petition. Do something with this before I explode. The clock is ticking.

[travelingtwentysomething]

[silly-honeybee]

Pspspsssss lesbiaaaaaans.. gimmie female arcane character requestsssss… pspspspssss

Ok srs tho idk what to write, pls give me arcane reqs!😼 /nf

Link to my masterlist <3

(Not my pic, creds to rightful owner on Pinterest!!)

[addictofreading]

I drew this in support of Pride Month, but also because even though it's 2023 I still, for some unknown reason, enjoy the hell out of the Klance ship.

These boys make me so happy sometimes it's stupid.

[dreamer0903]

I found this new fic that sounds so interesting!! I will not read it yet, but I definitely will in the future!

It's: The Scent In Our Clothes by Antlers_boy

on Ao3

Status : completed

Chapters: 14

Words : 157,718

Ratings: Mature

this is the summary:

“Do you swear it?” Regulus looks deep into James’ eyes, waiting for the faltering, but there is none.

“I swear it,” he says, gripping Regulus’ arm tighter.

There’s a moment of silence, and then it is James who twists their arms, locking the charm in place. Not that either of them will remember it the following day, drunk as they are.

————————

James and Regulus get really drunk and make an unbreakable vow. James swears that Regulus will be in love with him by the end of the year, and Regulus swears not to push him away and make him try. When they wake up the following day, they remember nothing of it. But everyone knows what happens if you don’t go through with it, so they can do nothing but try to recall and respect their drunken promises or be met by sweet old death. As if this wasn’t enough, their everyday problems seem to double by the minute. Between the vow and life as a student,

It’s about to be a hell of a year.

And it has Wolfstar, Marylily, Rosekiller, and Dorlene!

Worth to check out :))

(I hope the writer is okay with me sharing that information, but it's literally free publicity, lol, so I don't think there will be any problems)

[strawlessandbraless]

Happy Pride!!! Off to be an ally by re-reading The Dean Winchester Beat Sheet by saltyfeathers

[scrollonso]

First Kiss (Race 17)

A strollonso AU where 18 year old rookie Lance Stroll falls helplessly in love with the notoriously mean world champion. (1.5k words, no warnings) [@v3lnys @biancathecool] {fluff chapter! they go on a little date :3}

last part - masterlist - next part (coming soon)

As soon as Lance got off the plane, he checked his phone and smiled at the name on his screen. Nando.

"You are free tonight?"

"Yep," Lance quickly typed, coming to a standstill in the middle of the airport.

"Dress pretty, I'll come at 5." The Canadian nodded to himself and wheeled his suitcase out to the car his dad had sent for him.

Over the past week, Lance had finally come out to his father. He was scared of how his dad would react, but Lawrence had simply hugged him and apologized for the hurtful things he said. Lance had cried, feeling both embarrassed and relieved. This time, his dad didn't call him a queer for his long hair, (but he did ask if that's why he was growing it out, like a mating call.)

Back at the hotel, Lance anxiously checked the time as he lay on his stomach on the bed. He'd been dressed for two hours already, and there were still 20 minutes until 5. Sharing the room with Nico meant Nico had to endure Lance's constant whining and complaining as he waited.

"Bubu," Nico started, Lance looking over at him before he continued "Shut up."

"You're so rude." Lance groaned again, slamming his face into the pillow in his arms "If you were waiting for Lewis you'd be impatient too." He mumbled into the pillow

As soon as Fernando picked Lance up, his face was lit with a broad smile. "You clean up well," he teased, leaning in to give Lance a quick kiss on the cheek.

Lance blushed, his heart racing. "Thanks. You look great."

In the car, they talked easily, their hands occasionally brushing against each other.

Fernando's thumb gently stroked the back of Lance's hand, sending shivers down his spine. Even though they'd been together for months at this point Lance still felt like he had an embarrassing highschool crush.

They arrived at a cozy Italian restaurant, a favorite of Fernando's, with dim lighting and an intimate atmosphere.

The host led them to a quiet corner table, where they settled in. Fernando reached across the table and took Lance's hand. "I've been looking forward to this all day," he admitted, his eyes softening as he gazed at Lance.

"Me too," Lance replied, squeezing his hand. "It feels good to be here with you. I missed you"

When the waiter arrived, Fernando confidently ordered for both of them. "We'll start with the bruschetta and caprese salad, and for the main course, the seafood risotto and the truffle gnocchi."

Lance smiled, appreciating his decisiveness, knowing that he would've stared at the menu helplessly if he had to order for himself. "You really know your way around a menu," he laughed, remembering how Fernando had talked about this place before.

Fernando hummed. "Is not too hard, I know what you like."

As they waited for their food, the conversation naturally shifted to the upcoming Grand Prix.

"Are you ready for the race?" Fernando asked, his eyes meeting Lance's in the warmly lit resteraunt, it wasn't too busy so there was no reason for them to pretend this wasn't a date.

"Definitely," Lance replied. "The team's been working hard on the car, and Nico's been great. What about you and Giancarlo?"

Fernando nodded, a playful grin on his lips at the thought of his close friend and teammate. "We've been pushing Renault to the limits, am convinced the engineers are tired of both of us. The circuit is hard, but always a fun one."

Lance leaned in, eyes lidded slightly as he smiled at his boyfriend, laughing at his own anxiousness. "I'm worried."

Fernando laughed too, the sound warm and reassuring. "You’ll get it. Just trust yourself."

Their appetizers arrived, and they shared bites of bruschetta and caprese salad, playfully feeding each other small bites and laughing at the mess they made. The conversation flowed from racing to personal stories, with Lance sharing funny anecdotes about his childhood and Fernando recounting his early days in racing, really whatever they could think of that the other didn't know.

When the main courses arrived, they dug into the rich flavours, occasionally stealing bites from each other's plates.

Fernando brushed a strand of hair away from Lance's face, his touch lingering. "You have no idea how happy I am right now, Mi sol." he said softly.

Lance smiled, his heart swelling with affection. "Me too. I missed you."

As the evening went on, their hands found each other across the table, fingers intertwined. They talked about their hopes for the future they wanted together, their fears, anything and everything that came to mind. Fernando's support and understanding made Lance feel more confident and secure, ready for the weekend ahead.

When they finally left the restaurant, the night air was cool, and Fernando wrapped his arm around Lance's shoulders, pulling him close. "You'll do great, Lance. Just remember why you love it."

Lance smiled, feeling a warmth in his chest. "Thanks, Nando. I needed that."

Back in the car, they drove back to the hotel, the city lights reflecting in their eyes. Fernando parked and turned to Lance, his expression serious but tender. "I believe in you, Lance. Both on and off the track."

Lance leaned in and kissed him, a slow, lingering kiss that conveyed all the feelings words couldn't express. "I love you," he whispered.

Fernando smiled, his eyes sparkling with emotion. "I love you too, Mi vida."

The Suzuka Circuit was buzzing with anticipation as the weekend kicked off. Qualifying had been a mixed affair for the drivers. Fernando was barely leading the championship and only managed to secure 5th on the grid. Lance had managed to place 11th, earlier in the season he would've celebrated but 11th was embarrassing in a race-winning car.

The lights went out, and away they went. Fernando had a great start, quickly moving up to 3rd by the end of the first lap. His driving was precise and aggressive, every move perfect.

Lance, starting from the middle, was determined to score points for Racing Point again. By lap 10, he had already made his way up to 8th, maneuvering through the field with newfound confidence and determination to not let down his team. Nico was battling just behind him, holding his own and supporting the team's efforts.

Renault'a strategy came into play as the race progressed. He timed his pit stops perfectly, managing to leapfrog his rivals and move into 2nd place. With ten laps to go, he managed an overtake for the lead, cementing his position at the front. From there, he maintained a relentless pace, never giving his competitors a chance to catch up.

Lance, meanwhile, continued to impress. By the final laps, he had climbed to 6th place, a remarkable feat given his starting position and the teams results earlier in the season.

As the chequered flag waved, Fernando crossed the finish line first, securing a vital win and extending his lead in the championship. The crowd erupted in applause, celebrating his drive as they alwaya did. Lance finished in 6th, an excellent result that underscored his growing potential.

The podium ceremony was a blur of cheers and champagne. Fernando stood tall on the top step, the Spanish anthem playing as he raised the trophy high. Lance watched from the sidelines, his heart swelling with pride and admiration for his boyfriend. He couldn't wait to see his lover on the top step a hundred more times.

After the ceremony, Fernando made his way through the throngs of well-wishers to find Lance. Their eyes met, and a smile spread across Fernando’s face. Lance stepped forward, not hesitating before embracing him tightly.

"You were incredible out there," Lance murmured, his voice distorted in the fabric of the Spaniards fireproofs.

Fernando pulled back slightly, looking into Lance’s eyes. "You too, Lancito. Sixth place is amazing. Getting better every weekend."

Nico eventually joined them, a satisfied grin on his face. He had finished 9th, a solid result, but his thoughts seemed to be elsewhere. Lance caught him glancing towards the paddock entrance where Lewis Hamilton, still in GP2, was standing. There had been whispers about Nico and Lewis, and it seemed those rumors were grounded in truth.

As the evening wore on, the celebrations moved to the Renault hospitality area. Fernando and Lance found a quieter corner, away from the people still in blue and yellow.

"Every race, I see more of your potential," Fernando said softly, his hand brushing Lance's as he continued to praise him.

Lance smiled, leaning into Fernando's touch. "I only drive fast because the sooner I'm done the sooner I can see you," He laughed, embarrassed at his own confession

Their connection was undeniable, even those convinced it was purely platonic couldn't deny the connection between the two polar opposite drivers. In that moment, surrounded by the hum of celebration, they found a moment of peace and intimacy.

"To many more victories," Lance whispered, his voice full of promise.

Fernando smiled, pulling Lance closer. "Together"

[babybenn]

Okay it’s me with another Cherik fic recommendation !

Imagine meeting a man in a small café and he has fun trashing your favorite author in front of you. Now imagine falling in love with this man, without knowing that he is actually your favorite author?

Well, that’s what happens to Charles in this amazing modern AU (without power) signed by Clock, on Ao3.

We dive into a sweet and fun story of love and friendship to read, marked by its spicy passages.

Anyway, here’s the link !

[ricochetyears]

bourgeoisieses (la-di-dee-die)

Remus turned his head to Lily, who was still standing next to him, and was not surprised to meet the shocked expression on her face.

“Isn’t it,” she started speaking cautiously as if to not wake the raging wolf in Remus up. Too late, Lily, too late, “That piece on topic of a class system that you’ve told me about the other d—“

“It fucking is, Evans,” Remus grunted, eyes a touch wild, “I’m gonna rip Black’s bloody throat out.”

or,

Remus writes a mocking poem about the bourgeoisie, and Sirius makes a song out of it without his permission, and sings it during a performance with James and Peter at a party in the common room.

art сс: sophithil

[martukyymm]

Crazy together?

[sundaynightlive]

Fresh Night Air [Book was there, it was there…](Greatwise)

Disclaimers: No age gap shit. They’re 16 and 17 respectively.

Also: I do not hate Mike or any of Will’s friends—I’m just exploring the way they might tip toe around him after all the shite he’s been through.

Realistically: I ship Byler. But I like healthy love interests MOST and whatever’s going on in ST right now is not that, so why not throw a Gareth in there?

If it’s not your thing, I get it :) I only wanted to write a sweet little happy-Will fic with LIGHT angst for like two seconds. If you’re going, have a good rest of your day <3 peace and love darlings.

If you’re staying, enjoy :)

“Gareth Emerson,” the boy introduces, and Will shakes his hand over the table. He’s still a little pissed about his friends joining another party while he was in California, but when’s the last time Mike took anything Will said seriously, ever?

He shouldn’t be surprised.

They sit back down—across from each other, no less—and turn their attention to Eddie now that they’ve all been decently acquainted. The DM claps his hands together and rubs his palms excitedly—despite Will’s initial annoyance at being completely and utterly betrayed, he actually really likes Eddie, fangs and all. He’s cool, he’s nice, and he’s the only Upside Down monster that doesn’t wanna kill or eat any of them, save for the occasional half-cup of blood that seems to satisfy him completely.

They had all been astounded at the convenience of that—blood being so filling.

Or maybe Eddie’s affliction hadn’t fully taken by the time they got his body out of the Upside Down and a troupe of federal scientists pumped him full of drugs—they aren’t totally sure.

Either way, he’s a sad excuse for a vampire, and a completely awesome dungeon master.

“Good evening, intrepid heroes, and welcome to my eighth,” Eddie pauses, as if he’s in awe of that number himself, “And best campaign yet. Drumroll, please!” Will starts a little as the boys around him (plus Erica) begin to pound on the table with their fists. Will joins them after a moment, allowing himself to grin both at the nerdiness, and the undeniable giddy excitement that’s filling his chest and shoulders.

Eddie uses his hands to push his feet up on his seat—his throne, really—and then stands, throwing his arms out wide—

“Plight of the Hellwalkers!” A cheer rises up from the table, as if any of them know what that means other than tieflings and devils and the sort. Maybe something celestial, if any of them are feeling particularly combatant. Will’s already got all these ideas forming in his brain—he’s known for being pretty creative when it comes to PC’s. Will the Wise hadn’t exactly been the height of ingenuity, but Mike hadn’t always wanted to DM a complicated character—he just wanted to run impossible dungeons and make his players sweat.

Eddie’s a different story.

Will’s running all kinds of characters through his brain when he notices Gareth looking at him. Will would’ve thought he’d be chatting with all the other boys, or even with Eddie since the two of them seem to be pretty close—but no. He’s looking at Will.

Hesitantly, Will makes eye-contact with him. Gareth doesn’t seem bothered about getting caught staring. Will’s brows furrow—this is… weird. They just met not even five minutes ago.

What? He mouths.

Gareth holds up a finger, like he’s gonna tell Will in a second. Will’s confused by this (because when are they gonna have a second?) until Eddie announces today’s session is all about working on PC’s, and in order to keep the campaign interesting and fun, he’d like them all to leave the room and come back in one by one so he can get a brief idea of each character, by the end of today, and hopefully by next session, have everything ready to go.

And then he says—

“Gareth, you first. And then Mike. And after that I don’t care who goes when—figure it out.” Gareth gives Will one last glance. He raises an eyebrow. Then, he absentmindedly looks over at Eddie, and finds he’s staring daggers into the side of Gareth’s skull.

What is happening?

Still perplexed, he leaves the auditorium with his friends, unable to shake the feeling that he’s being discussed in the room they left behind. He picks at his clothes—his nice, plaid button-down and his khakis. He feels kind of stupid—everyone else has a Hellfire t-shirt of some sort—all his friends in a baseball tee, and some of the older members in what are probably older t-shirts. All Eddie’s school-allocated budget must go towards them—Will’s certain they probably don’t get more than fifty bucks, if that.

“So?”

Will starts as Mike throws an arm around his shoulders, completely oblivious to how that affects him.

“Isn’t it fucking awesome?”

Will snorts at the profanity—Mike’s been cussing more and more since he started tailing Eddie like a lost puppy. Will assumes he thinks it makes him sound cool—not that he has anything against cussing, it’s just a little funny to him that Mike never talked like that before.

“Totally,” Will says, letting a little sarcasm seep into his tone, “You just couldn’t resist breaking your promise, could you?” Mike’s eyes widen—deer caught in headlights.

“I–it’s—you never said anything about extracurriculars!” Mike tries, and Lucas and Dustin burst out laughing at the lame attempt at an excuse. Will rolls his eyes, shrugging off Mike’s arm.

“Asshole,” he mumbles. Lucas and Dustin roar with more laughter as Mike looks for other excuses—Eddie this, Dustin that—

“Dustin didn’t promise me anything,” Will points out, and Mike groans.

“Dog house!” Erica is teasing, “Mike’s in troooooubleeeee.”

Truth be told, Mike’s not in trouble. There was certainly an initial sting—the only thing Will had asked of him had not been honored—but beyond that, Will’s not fond of holding grudges, especially given he knows full well how quickly life can go from bad to worse.

It’s just fun to watch Mike squirm.

“I’m sorryyyyyy,” Mike whines, “But Eddie’s just so cool and I couldn’t say no!” He puts both hands on Will’s shoulders, shaking him lightly. Will bites his lip to stifle his grin—the way Mike is pouting at him for forgiveness is equal parts adorable and hilarious.

“Forgive me?”

Will shakes his head, still biting back that grin.

“Figure out how to make it up to me—then we’ll talk.”

Mike straightens up, puts two fingers against his forehead, and dramatically salutes. Will loses the ability to stifle his grin and fully laughs at this ridiculousness.

They’re alive, they’re friends again, and Will’s desperate crush is dwindling by the day seeing how happy his sister is. Will couldn’t stay mad at his best friend for anything, and he won’t go on liking him, either.

Things are okay. Things are on their way to good, again.

“Wheeler—get your bony ass in there.”

And that’s Gareth.

“You—” he points directly at Will, exactly like Will figured he might, “Can I steal you for a second?”

Will stands. He doesn’t miss the confused look that Mike gives him, but he does choose to ignore it, mostly because he’s equally as confused. Gareth motions for Will to follow him outside, and sensing no danger or malintent, he decides there’s no point in saying no, especially since he’s not certain how long he’s gonna be sitting bored on this bench otherwise.

“Okay,” Gareth says, once the doors are shut firmly behind them. The night air is cool and nice on Will’s skin. He wants to take a deep breath—relish in all this comfort of being home, of being able to breathe—but he doesn’t know if Gareth would clock that weird reaction to just stepping out. So he tells himself he’ll take that moment later. “I had a crazy idea, and I wanted to know if you’d be down.”

Will raises an eyebrow.

“I’m listening.”

“So, totally shoot me down if you have a better idea, but I think it would be sick to play as angels—you know, since it’s a hell campaign—but specifically an Angel still in line with Heaven’s order, and a fallen one. So, they like, know each other super well, but also are at odds with each other, and like, one’s trying to convince the other to fall and vice versa.”

Gareth looks at him expectantly. Will stares back, trying to comprehend how Gareth even…

Gareth must have read his mind.

There’s no other explanation for how spot on that idea is compared to all the concepts he’d had running around in his own head mere moments ago. And not only that, but Gareth is looking at him like… how did Will not notice he looked like that, before? Why is it only now that—

“Hello? Earth to Byers?” Will starts. Right—he has to answer.

“Yeah—I mean, that sounds awesome,” he manages, cheeks growing pink in embarrassment. He looks away from Gareth’s cool gaze, unsure how to handle the feelings he’s feeling at this moment. Excitement, anxiety—and a myriad of other things he doesn’t feel right naming yet.

“Awesome,” Gareth repeats, slugging him lightly in the shoulder. Will’s whole stomach jumps into his throat.

This cannot be happening.

“So, if you’re down, I’m free tomorrow night. We could kick it at my place and talk background and logistics and shit.”

That’s a terrible idea.

“Sounds great,” Will says, and in his mind he’s repeatedly kicking the shit out of his own kneecaps. He wishes he were a stronger man, but the idea of playing a character that’s not only complex in his own way, but has a strained relationship to another PC? It’s too good to pass up. Plus, Gareth already talked to Eddie, so Will get’s to play under a DM who’s capable of managing that kind of storyline—it fills his chest with something downright palpable.

“Fuck, I’m excited,” Gareth says.

“Me, too.”

Will wonders briefly if his internal criticism of Mike’s cussing was spoken way too soon.

-

Gareth’s bedroom is a dream—Will would call it a loft, but that’s not exactly what it is. It’s adjacent to the attic, an alcove that sticks out from the roof and makes the house look both magical and completely ridiculous. All sides of it are fitted with windows, and in between those, the walls are a deep, navy blue. For the most part, it’s immaculately clean apart from misplaced shoes and a sock or two.

The slivers of walls which are not windows are covered with intense shelving that holds both an extensive collection of cassettes and vinyls, and books. Will wouldn’t have guessed Gareth was a reader, but by the looks of it, he’s practically a library.

The carpet is soft, the bed is big and covered with an enormous quilt. There are soft white Christmas lights hanging throughout the space, creating an inviting glow. Gareth tells Will to drop his bag anywhere, so Will finds the most out-of-the-way corner he possibly can, and sets his stuff down gently. He’s absolutely enamored with the space, but he’s trying not to show it. He could only imagine the teasing that would ensue if he told Gareth the bedroom he spends every night in is like Will’s own personal heaven.

To Will’s further dismay, Gareth plops down on his bed and pats the space next to him. Never in his life did Will expect to be sitting in bed with a cute boy who’s also basically a stranger, but here he is, swallowing his own nervousness and settling down. It’s unbelievably soft. Will let’s his mind wander to what it must be like to sleep there, and then quickly snaps himself out of it.

That’s creepy, he scolds himself. Stop.

“So, did you think of anything in the last 24-hours, or do you wanna start with just the general idea I had?” Gareth asks—and it’s so impossibly normal for how abnormal Will feels. He’s so stiff he might as well be made of wood. Jesus—even his fight or flight is starting to act up.

“Well,” Will says, deciding he’ll force himself to relax by talking, “You know how angels are, like, usually a patron of something? Like, they have a specific purpose, or whatever? I thought we could use something like that to determine our proficiencies, and stuff. I was also thinking that I could be the straight-edge angel and you could be the fallen one? But that’s totally up to you—your idea, your rules.”

Will fidgets nervously with his own hands. Gareth is… actually listening to him. His expression is attentive. Will’s not used to that—so he keeps rambling.

“Also—I like the idea of a sibling dynamic but I thought it would be better if it was strictly a best friends thing? I feel like a lot of D&D overdoes the, like, “you were my brother” thing but meaningful friendships or whatever can be so much more impactful because you choose your friends and stuff, and for a character to choose their person and then lose that person and find them again but still be at odds is just—Sorry, I should shut up. I just realized I’ve been talking for way too long.”

Will wants to melt into the bedspread—hell, he just might.

Gareth grins at him, shaking his head.

“No, totally keep going. You’re brilliant.”

Yup. Melted. Absolutely a liquid. Will doesn’t think he’ll ever be a solid again.

-

Will starts spending an ungodly amount of time with Gareth, but it’s not his fault. His own friends are great, and he spares them every moment he can, but it’s been a long time since being with them has ever felt like this—totally and completely void of tension. His friends… they haven’t been giving him attention freely. It feels weighed down by this notion that they’re forced to hang around because everything they’ve been through.

It’s not fair to think of them that way—he knows they’d still care for him, regardless.

But that pity is stuck behind their eyes. And they won’t talk about things in front of him, like how they’re feeling, how they’re doing. Once, he was hanging around Lucas and Dustin, and they left the room after uttering some lame excuse. Curious and a little hurt, Will had pressed his ear to the door to find Lucas venting about Max, and how she was doing, and how he’s trying to hang out and have fun but she’s all he can think about—half-paralyzed and totally blind, all alone at home when he’s not with her.

It’s selfish, he knows, but he couldn’t help feeling offended. He can be a shoulder—he knows he can be a shoulder. He’s not going to break down the minute someone else needs a hand. They’ve been plenty good for him—he can do the same.

He just needs a chance.

But they won’t give him it, so he loses himself in the simplicity of a brand-new friendship. He and Gareth start just talking over the campaign, and the D&D stuff, but it soon evolves into much more than that. It starts with a book—

“Gertrude Stein,” Will muses, slipping the collection of poetry right off the shelf. He lets it fall open in his palm to a random page. Gareth had gotten bored of devising background and trying to locate biblical information without a bible—so he’d flopped over on the bed and hidden his face in his pillows.

Will had rolled his eyes at him, and went looking for something to entertain himself.

This is where he finds himself, now.

They read a little Gertrude Stein in English, and Will remembers it fondly. He’s not a huge poetry guy, but Stein’s poetry is so ridiculous it actually manages to interest him. It was also generally impossible for most of the class to read aloud, because of it’s insanity, but Will excelled at it. He read it so well, and so succinctly in class, the teacher herself had been shocked.

Maybe his trauma had rewired his brain for nonsensical poetry.

Book was there, it was there. Book was there. Stop it, stop it, it was a cleaner, a wet cleaner and it was not where it was wet, it was not high, it was directly placed back, not back again, back it was returned, it was needless, it put a bank, a bank when, a bank care.

Gareth looks up at him from the pillows curiously, and Will grins in his direction. He begins reading with the utmost conviction, as if anything he’s reading makes a lick of actual sense.

Suppose a man a realistic expression of resolute reliability suggests pleasing itself white all white and no head does that mean soap. It does not so. It means kind wavers and little chance to beside beside rest. A plain.

Suppose ear rings that is one way to breed, breed that. Oh chance to say, oh nice old pole. Next best and nearest a pillar. Chest not valuable, be papered.

Cover up cover up the two with a little piece of string and hope rose and green, green.

Please a plate, put a match to the seam and really then really then, really then it is a remark that joins many many lead games. It is a sister and sister and a flower and a flower and a dog and a colored sky a sky colored grey and nearly that nearly that let.

Will finishes the poem—called Book—and looks back up at Gareth, who seems to be stifling a laugh. Will raises an eyebrow.

“What?” he teases, “Didn’t get that? I’ll read another one.”

Suppose it is within a gate which open is open at the hour of closing summer that is to say it is so.

All the seats are needing blackening. A white dress is in sign. A soldier a real soldier has a worn lace a worn lace of different sizes that is to say if he can read, if he can read he is a size to show shutting up twenty-four.

Go red go red—

Suppose and Eyes is cut off abruptly by a pillow smacking into Will’s chest and falling over the book he’s holding out—an accident which has Gareth absolutely howling with laughter. Will retaliates immediately, tossing the book to the floor and going after Gareth with a pillow.

The rest is history.

They hang out after school, they go to record stores and diners and swimming in the pond behind his house. They have an absolute blast role-playing ex-best friends while becoming best friends, all the while, Will’s fondness growing exponentially every time they share breath. They spend nights at each other’s houses, they talk for hours, they read together, they listen to music together—Will even get’s a little bit into metal, even though it’s not totally his vibe. Weeks and weeks pass—then months. They know everything about each other like the backs of each other’s hands. Will’s friends start making comments about it—Mike especially—and light-heartedly complain that Will is “replacing” them when that is certainly not the case.

They could never be replaced.

But being around Gareth is like magic, up until the moment it’s not.

“Hey… can I talk to you about something?”

Famous last words, but Will is so full of pizza and so content with his back pressed into Gareth’s bed, head resting lightly against the outside of the boy’s knee, that he doesn’t quite grasp the connotation.

He wishes he had—that there had been warning.

“Sure.”

“So… after the earthquake—”

Will should’ve known then and there this was headed in a foul direction, but he was none-the-wiser. He was still half-engrossed in Emily Dickinson, who had grown to be his absolute favorite poet over the last few months.

“Eddie told me everything that happened. And he told me what happened to you.”

This is where it hits him. Will jerks away from Gareth’s knee like it’s scalding, hurt painting over his face as it all crashes over him.

None of this has been any different.

“Will?”

“Are you serious?” Will asks, horror growing in his chest, in his tone. Gareth’s face screws up, a look Will knows all too well—a look he only sports when he’s thoroughly confused.

He must be stupid—Will’s reaction shouldn’t be confusing to him at all.

“I just wanted—”

Everything is tainted. The way Gareth looks at him, acts with him, the way he chose Will out of everyone from that stupid table that first day of Hellfire—he knew. The whole time.

Will is some pathetic charity case who needed a real friend. And he let Will think, this entire time, that he actually liked Will for himself. Not because Will desperately needed to be liked, not because they were bonded by some shared hell, not because Will had suffered, but because Gareth liked him.

It had all been a lie.

“How could you?” Will asks, shakily. He feels tears gathering in his eyes, and he hates himself for it. Now he’s gonna cry like the broken, traumatized baby he really is. The one Gareth has always seen in him. He’s just proving a fucking point.

That’s all he ever does.

“How could I—”

“I can’t believe I let myself be another fucking charity case,” Will hisses, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand as he scrambles to his feet. Gareth seizes his wrist.

“Will—”

Will’s stronger than Gareth—he doesn’t look it, but there’s a lot of muscle beneath his clothes. He makes sure of it—he doesn’t wanna be the victim of anyone or anything ever again. He wrenches his wrist out of the boy’s grasp, pointing at him accusingly with the other.

“You. Suck,” Will snaps, doing his best not to yell. He doesn’t wanna get worked up enough that Gareth sees just how deeply this has stricken him, and part of him, a naive part of him, hates how devastated Gareth already looks. “I can’t believe I thought you actually liked me. I’m so fucking stupid.”

And with that, he snatches his bag up off the floor, and gets the hell out of there.

It’s only when he’s home, past his mom and his brother, and in his bedroom with the door shut tight, that he crawls into his closet and muffles his sobs with his teeth bared into a sweatshirt.

Heartbroken.

-

“Hello?”

“Don’t hang up!” Will should absolutely hang up. It’s been three days of nothing—avoiding Gareth at school, refusing to speak to him, neglecting to answer the phone even when he was nearest to it.

And now, just when it so happened that nobody else was home, Gareth was on the other end of the line.

“I should so hang up,” Will snaps, already angry. He didn’t wanna be reminded. He’s been so fucked up the last few days, it’s almost like Gareth dumped him. In a way, he kind of did. Or, Will did.

Whatever, the details aren’t important. What’s important is that Gareth lied to him. Extensively.

“Listen—I need to talk to you, but I wanna do it in person, okay? Please—just ten minutes of your time, and if it’s not fixed, I’ll never talk to you again. Except at Hellfire. But that’s it! Okay?” Will wishes he had the balls to say fuck no, but it’s too difficult. He allotted months of his life to Gareth, and as much as he hates it, can attribute a ton of his recent healing to him. Being carefree and spending time with Gareth had been exactly what he needed most days to get out of his own head, to stop thinking about things that couldn’t be helped.

A breath of fresh night air, one might say.

Looking back at that now makes Will nauseous, but he swallows it down. He doesn’t exactly want his and Gareth’s time being good friends to forever be tainted by the fact that it had all been out of pity, but Will doesn’t know what he could possibly say to make that better. He sighs into the phone.

“Get here ASAP. And ten minutes is all you get!”

“Sir yes sir!”

-

“Thank you for letting me talk,” Gareth says. Will crosses his arms over his chest. He’s got no intentions of letting Gareth step foot over the threshold, and Gareth seems to be able to tell.

“Ten minutes,” he says firmly, and Gareth nods quickly.

“The first thing I should’ve done when we started hanging out is tell you I knew about the Upside Down,” he says quickly, and yeah, he’s got that fucking right. “I’m really sorry that I hid that from you—I guess I didn’t think you’d wanna talk about it, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t have talked about it. I’m sorry.”

“Decent start,” Will says begrudgingly.

“Second, I did not choose you as my D&D partner because I felt bad for you,” Gareth says, and then his face get’s all screwy, and he starts shifting his weight back and forth, like whatever he needs to say is really hard for him to say. He looks left, and then down at his shoes, and then crosses his arms over his chest and let’s out a breath he’d been holding—

“Spit it out.”

“I thought you were cute!” he says, all his words running together, so much so that it takes Will a second to process what he’s even just said, “And I wanted to hang out with you and I thought that if our D&D characters shared a backstory then we’d spend a lot of time together and I’d be able to make a move but I felt bad about making a move knowing stuff about you you hadn’t shared with me so that night I wanted to kiss you so bad but I wanted to talk about what I knew first so that I wasn’t kissing you and then bringing up your childhood trauma because that wouldn’t be smooth at all, but then I messed everything up and—”

Will’s not sure what happens to his body. First of all, he’s absolutely floored at the notion that he wasn’t a charity case or anywhere near that at all—this boy was attracted to him and wanted to be around him. That’s so far out in left-field it’s practically a home run. Second—Gareth likes him? Like that? In small-town, middle-of-nowhere Hawkins, Indiana, a cute boy likes him? And it’s not Mike Wheeler, feelings-denier extraordinaire, or someone Will would rather eat glass than hang around with?

God, it’s Gareth?

He completely loses track of his ability to command his own body—he steps forward, puts both hands around Gareth’s face, and kisses him right on the mouth to shut him the hell up. Will’s never kissed anyone in his life, save for one girl in California, just to prove his own disinterest, but he makes it work. Gareth certainly doesn’t seem to be complaining, the way his arms move securely around Will’s waist and he kisses back with fervor.

They break, both void of breath. The kiss wasn’t exactly long, but all the excitement has Will’s ribs heaving. He presses his forehead into Gareth’s, blushing like crazy and avoiding the eye-contact Gareth’s trying to prompt from him.

“You’re such an idiot,” Will manages between breaths.

“Kiss me again.”

“Definitely.”

-

It was only a few weeks later that things started getting bad again, but they were heavenly weeks of sneaking around, sharing looks when no one was paying attention, and kissing in dark corners. Will started feeling whole again, like the places and things that the Upside Down had stolen from him were things that Gareth could replace, curling up on couches with him, meeting his mom, holding his hand, and treating him like someone who was already whole.

And though he wished, ached to ignore the warning signs, he told Gareth immediately when The Mind Flayer felt like it was slithering closer, lifting the hairs on the back of his neck and tugging at the corners of his mind.

And Gareth had been there, as fresh as summer night air in his lungs, all the way until the end.

[chris-in-the-headlights]

Aggressively cute, to the point you want to squeeze and crush it.

Amazing storytelling, snapshots from the Gay Mutant Roadtrip and the collective wholesomeness that is often associated with pre-Beach Divorce Cherik

Big thanks to @unvexes for putting this out there

[noblogname765]

Fic rec: Slow Show by @mia-ugly

I’m not into AU fics, but this fic can be read even if you haven’t heard anything about Good Omens.

In a nutshell, it is a gay love story between two middle aged humans. It’s 95k words read.

But gosh it’s incredible. The emotions in it are just hitting stratosphere. It HURTS a LOT. Like LOT lot. Most of the fic hurts like your heart is cutting into pieces, slowly. It’s SO real it feels it’s happening to you. The fear, devastation, self-destruction thoughts, substance usage, mistakes you did in the past… Courage, trust in yourself, finding yourself, self preservation, hope, faith that some day it will gets easier. LOVE, lots of love, I don’t know how these two boys survived all that feelings because it’s even reading about them was on the edge of unbearable.

I cried real tears and stayed up all night till morning and regret nothing - this is whole different level of fic. I think I hardly breathed during most part of the story.

And also - decent and delicious smut if you are into that.

Go get a cup or glass of your favorite drink, cozy up and enjoy it!

[shinpikurage]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/60157663

I have finally finished my Baizhu fanfic for cringetober 2024!

Words: 11,457

Pairing: Baizhu/Dainsleif (can be read as romantic or platonic)

Please check it out, it would make me incredibly happy

[ao3sbatfamily]

'A Series of Unfortunately Timed Coming Out's' by Queerbutstillhere

Author: @queerbutstillhere-writes

“Shirt’s too tight?”

Tim shook his head and managed to gasp out the word. “Binder.”

Selina stared at him for a moment, clearly confused. Harley suddenly shoved her way in, holding a large suit jacket that looked oddly like Harvey’s.

“Kiddo, you need to listen to me and calm down, lay flat on your back.”

Selina helped push Tim down, holding his arms gently.

“Okay, good. Now I need you to try taking small breaths. I know it's not going to feel good, I know ya feel like shit right now, but I need ya to try, okay darling?”

Tim tried and the first few breaths felt like fire. But then he was able to start getting small little gaspy breaths in.

“Good. You’re doing great, now I just need you to focus on my voice and keep breathing, okay?”