i start too many fics without finishing them. i have like eight wips and i’ve started another one. idk what it says about me. perhaps i have too many ideas.
level 2: the lost boys follows a not uncommon horror movie trend where monstrous and villainous characters are associated with alt fashion or other counter-culture signifiers, which may also call to mind an association with queerness as it exists in conflict with cishet cultural norms. this, intentionally or unintentionally, helps to position queerness as an evil threat to the status quo in the minds of viewers. while a lot of queer people end up seeing themselves in these characters in a positive way, its inappropriate to talk about how cool gay vampires are without at least acknowledging the implications of this in relation to the long history of queer-coded villains in film.
level 3: the lost boys is actually all a clever subversion of the aforementioned trope; while on the surface michael is positioned as the classic disaffected youth, child of divorce (this and him being in the care of a single mother helping to introduce the idea that his vampirism ie latent homosexuality starts with this initial failure to uphold conservative family values), falling in with the wrong crowd who corrupt him and creates a rift between him and his family, the twist of the movie reveals that the vampire gang exists under the authority of the head vampire who himself has all the signifiers of the wholesome middle class all-american dad figure. this recontextualizes the queer-coding of the vampires from a gang of wild subversives to a group of kids who, like michael, were most likely struggling with some sort of instability in their home lives and were groomed into vampirehood by their sire, the symbol of the father they perhaps lacked. the precious but fragile unity that exists among these outsiders cannot survive, not because a more normative family structure has some special thing they lack, but because they are chasing an idea of family that despite their counter-cultural leanings hasnt been meaningfully disentangled from patriarchy, as embodied by their literal patriarch.
ok this is a little outside my usual realm of fandoms but i just saw the lost boys musical and im OBSESSED. if anyone is a fan of the musical or the movie PLEASE LETS BE MOOTS. i need to know anything and everything about it. <3
A little rant for everyone: I hate that the term "fangirl" has such negative connotations. I think women, especially, get so much hate for being passionate about ANYTHING. Being a fan of things makes my life so much better and more interesting. I have found community and friends through my passion for books, TV shows, movies, artists, musicals, etc. But if I show any outward passion for them, I'm called a "fangirl" or "obsessed." Like, how often are men judged for their traditionally masculine passions? No one looks at a guy who attends every sports game of their favorite team and thinks, "Oh, he's so weird and obsessed." They think, "Wow, he's so passionate and dedicated."
(I'm not saying they should be judged for it; I'm saying women shouldn't be judged.)
My love of Taylor Swift, or The Pitt, or anything else, is just fuel for people to poke fun at me. I understand that people aren't always doing it to be mean, but no one is using men's love of sports to poke fun at them. I just think that it's totally rooted in misogyny, and I'm tired of it. I want to talk about how much I love the things I love and have people just listen. Not judge. Not joke about. Just listen and take it seriously.
Let me be a fangirl in peace
Not sure how coherent this was, but I've been thinking about it a lot recently :)
I need to start locking in and learning piano/reading sheet music for my college course next year, and I'm highkey freaking out. It's so hard, and I feel like I'm so not good at it. I've had a piano for years, but all I've learned is chords, reading tabs, and stuff like that. Anyone got any tips for learning piano and reading sheet music in a few months? Any tips or words of encouragement would be greatly appreciated.
i love things so much it hurts. like, why am i obsessed with three different hospital shows, a movie about a space nerd, a military video game, and a movie about sad teenage boys who like poetry? fml.
i think i'm parasocial with the people on tumblr and ao3. like, "these are my friends, and they like my writing and the things i have to say." I see other people's posts like "look at my close personal friend go. they're so funny and relatable."
Notes: Heyyyy! It's been a while, I fear. This newest part is all thanks to @Giahedbarfe on Ao3. So everyone, say thank you! I wanted to leave this as a one-shot and kinda forget about it. These last few weeks have been really rough for me writing-wise. I have had no motivation, and all the work I started has NOT been inspiring. Then I got a comment from the lovely @Giahedbarfe, and they asked very nicely for a sequel. Something about that got the juices flowing, and here it is! It's not as long as the first part, but I hope people enjoy the story's finale. I will DEFINITELY be writing more Dead Poets stuff (especially Meeks bc he is my boy), so look forward to that. Love you all very much <3
Part 1
Word count: 1.4k
“COME ON! WE’RE GOING TO BE LATE!” Marissa yells from outside your dorm room.
“I’m coming!” you say, putting the final touches on your hair and makeup in front of your little mirror. You couldn’t get your tassel to hang right; it was either in your eyes or bunched up in your hair, and it was driving you crazy.
“You look beautiful, babe, stop fussing,” Lily says, as if she can see you through the door.
You sigh, do one more once over, and smile at yourself. The last four years flew by faster than you realized they would. You learned, you laughed, and you loved (a lot).
Someone bangs on your door one more time. “Coming!”
~
The football field is full of graduating seniors, surrounded by friends and family in the stands. Around you, everyone is anxiously waiting for their time to walk the stage. Your eyes wandered, looking for someone. Lily notices and giggles, nudging your arm. You look over and follow her finger to a mop of red hair sitting a few rows in front of you. His eyes were focused on the stage, at the random speaker, like he always was. Just like you’d found him back at Welton. As if he could sense your eyes on him, he turns around in his seat.
Your Meeks. The boy you’d been in love with since your third year at Welton. His eyes soften, and a smile creeps across his face. You give him a small wave, which he reciprocates with a smile and a wink.
You feel your face flushing. Steven had become much bolder in your years together. The almost six years changed both of you for the better, from awkward teenagers to confident adults. And yet, looking at Steven still made you weak in the knees, and he was just as smitten with you, too. Your friends made fun of the two of you for it, but you both knew there was no one else you’d rather be with.
College has been challenging for both of you. Steven majored in mechanical engineering, and you majored in psychology. He was very smart, but there had been many a late night spent quizzing him for his calculus class or his thermodynamics seminar. He was committed to his work, sometimes too committed. You had to practically drag him out of his dorm and away from his textbooks on the weekends to experience the social side of college. But, at the end of the day, he always made time for you, no matter what.
For you, it took a lot of work to be respected in your field. You were one of the few women in your classes, and your professors made it obvious that they either didn’t believe in your intellect or didn’t spare you a second glance. There were days you spent in offices, trying to connect with professors, or arguing about grades. The worst of those days ended in you crying in Steven’s arms, debating dropping out. He was always there for you, just as you were always there for him.
The sound of cheering snaps you out of your reminiscing. The speech was well over, and people had started walking across the stage. You watch each of your peers being rewarded for their hard work, cheering especially loudly for all your friends. Each of the \ Poets has their own little celebration as they walk the stage. Todd is first out of the group and sheepishly smiles at the crowd, giving a small wave to Neil, who is going nuts. Then Cameron waits until he gets to the end of the stage and clicks his heels. Charlie is surprisingly tame and only salutes with his signature smirk out to the crowd.
After much anticipation, Steven crosses the stage. You stand up with the rest of the Poets, whooping and cheering. He thanks all the teachers and faculty on the stage, like the good student he is. At the end, he looks out to the crowd and finds you.
I love you, he mouths, his smile wide across his face.
I love you more, you mouth, tears threatening to fall.
The rest of the Poets shine with pure exuberance. Knox points to Chris up in the bleachers, Pitts thrusts his degree up in the air, and Neil yells out Carpe Diem.
Before long, it was your time to go up. Waiting in line, excitement, and anxiety swirl inside your heart. This marks the end of a chapter of your life. There’s still more school in your future, but this feels different. Things will change whether you like it or not, a scary but comforting fact. You take one last deep breath and step up to the stage. You hear your friends and family in the audience, which makes you smile. Being surrounded by so many supportive, loving people made your four years much more bearable. You shake hands with the dean as he hands you your degree, offering sincere congratulations. You shake everyone else’s hand and look out, finding your college friends and the Poets on their feet, cheering their heads off. Your eyes snap to the curly red hair. Behind his glasses, his eyes are watery, but he smiles widely and yells, “THAT’S MY GIRL,” loud enough for the entire audience to hear. You laugh and blow him a kiss before making your way back to your seat, wiping your own tears away.
Once everyone has received their diplomas, the Dean steps up to the podium. “Graduates, please rise. You may now move your tassels from the right to the left,” he says. Everyone stands and flips their tassels, and this time it lies perfectly next to your face. “Now, without further ado, I’d like to congratulate the new graduating class of ‘64.”
With that, caps go flying, and cheers are the loudest they’ve been all day. You pick up your cap and hug everyone around you, celebrating and promising to stay in touch. Then you make your way to the aisle, frantically searching for your boys. After a minute of wandering, you spot them in a large hug. You practically run toward them, calling out Steven’s name. He breaks away from the group in time to catch you. His hands wrap around you, twirling you in the air. Your lips meet, and he kisses you with such fervor that the boys whistle and clap.
“We did it, Stevie! We did it!” You cry as he sets you back down; his hands stay wrapped around you.
“Yeah, we did. I knew we would,” He says, his hand coming up to wipe tears away from your eyes.
“God, I love you so much,” you say, before pulling him back into a kiss. He kisses you back before pulling back, meeting your eyes, holding your hands in his.
“Darling,” he starts, taking a deep breath, “I have loved you since I first saw you in our trigonometry class in third year.” You laugh at the memory, reminiscing.
“You captured my heart, and it’s been yours ever since. I couldn’t have made it through Hellton and college without your love and your support.” His hand slides out of yours and into his back pocket.
“Steven? What are you–oh my god.” The tears start as he gets down on one knee.
“You walk in beauty, like the night of cloudless climes and starry skies. All that’s best of dark and bright. And on that cheek, and o’er that brow, so soft, so calm, yet eloquent. The smiles that win, the tints that glow. But tell of days in goodness spent, a mind at peace with all below. A heart whose love is innocent!” Your tears are hot as they run down your cheeks. The poem from the night in the cave. The night when you realized you loved Steven and Steven loved you just as much. He can barely keep it together as he continues, saying your full name. “Will you make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?”
“Yes! Yes, of course I will.” He slides the ring onto your finger, an heirloom passed down from your great-grandmother.
“Kiss her already!” Charlie shouts. Steven smiles and stands up, wrapping his arm around your waist and dipping you low into a kiss. The crowd around you erupts into cheers, claps, and whoops. This was exactly where you wanted to be. With the love of your life. With your best friends. At the start of a new chapter in your life.
ok so in one of the fics i'm writing, I've made it a dual perspective back and forth from Robby to the reader. my dilemma is i don't wanna give the reader a name (obviously) but i'm struggling with how to refer to her during robby's perspective. any thoughts or ideas? should i just make them an oc? should i rewrite the entire thing from one perspective? i really wanna keep it the dual perspective bc i feel like its more interesting. UGGGGGGHHHH
do you ever sit down to write and think that everything you're writing is fucking awful and that you should never attempt to write again? or is that just a me thing?
all this to say, i have NOT been writing. i'm sorry. i'm trying
maybe don’t watch the realistic medical burnout show if you can’t handle seeing people exhibit real negative signs of mental health issues and burnout without calling them evil and saying they should “just commit suicide already” ! crazy thought !
summary: after your unexpected encounter, robby comes in to apologize and you open up about your life, your band, and the truth about being famous.
pairing: dr. robby x reader
tags: fluff, angst, reader is in a band, loosely inspired by paramore/hayley williams, age difference, older man younger woman, drug use, addiction, flirting
author's note: hi y'all! i'm back with another chapter of the only exception. i've been working on some other fics/one-shots that took up my time, but i finally got around to finishing this chapter. i really like where this story is going, and i have some ideas for future chapters which is exciting. if you're enjoying the story so far, feel free to like, repost, or comment; i love hearing from y'all. without further ado, here's chapter 4 <3.
AO3
The door to the staff room opened slowly. You instinctively sank lower into your chair, but you relaxed a little seeing Robby on the other side. He slipped into the room before smiling at you apologetically. You grinned back at him.
“Does he want an autograph?” you asked playfully. “Did he send you in here to get one because I’m happy to give him one?”
Robby rolled his eyes. “No, he did not. I wanted to apologize. He—”
“You don’t need to apologize. It was actually hilarious.”
“Oh, really?” Robby raised his eyebrows.
“Yeah, he came in, and it took him a minute to notice me. He walked over to grab some coffee, and he turned around and just stared at me.” You laughed lightly, “I tried asking him his name, but he just ran out without saying anything. Without his coffee.”
Robby looked over to see an abandoned disposable cup sitting next to the coffee pot. He rubbed his temple.
“I thought people would be respectful, or they already knew you were here and wouldn’t bother you.”
“Robby, it’s genuinely fine. I really don’t mind,” you said sincerely.
You both were silent for a moment, Robby was staring down at his shoes, before it clicked. “You must know now, huh?”
“Yeah,” he looked up at you. “You’re a pretty big deal.”
“Yeah, I am.” The words came out before you could stop them. “God. Conceited again, sorry.”
“You’re fine,” he said, amused. “You’re probably more humble than you should be.”
“I don’t know. I still feel like a high schooler fucking around in someone’s garage.”
Robby walked up and sat in the other chair at the table. “But you’re not.”
“No, I’m not,” you paused for a moment. “Sometimes I wish we were. Just a garage band that plays at dive bars and tiny venues for a crowd of people who don’t know who we are.”
Robby nods. “The pressure must be intense.”
“Yeah, it is. It feels like it’s not even about the music anymore. Just the business.”
“That sucks, because your music is good.”
“You know Mirager?”
Robby smirked, leaning back slightly. “I’m in my late forties, not dead. And I work with a bunch of twenty-somethings. Your music… it’s hard to miss.”
Your expression fell. The connection that you thought you had made was crumbling in front of you, and Robby noticed immediately. “Hey—don’t think I recognized you when you came in. I didn’t lie to you, I swear.”
“Oh, thank god.”
“I just know your band by the name. I’ve seen Mirager from the periphery, not as a fan.”
“Oh god, it sounds so weird coming out of your mouth.” You buried your head in your hands.
“What? Why?” He asked, amusement creeping into his voice as he moved to sit down with you.
“I don’t know,” you muttered, lifting your head to look at him sheepishly. “I haven’t spoken about the band to someone who wasn’t a fan or the press in…a really long time. It feels…weird.”
A small smile tugged at his lips. “Well, I’m happy I got to see you as you, not just the lead singer of a band.”
“Me too,” you smiled back at him. You each sat in silence, enjoying the other until Robby’s expression shifted slightly, guilt creeping in. He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.
“It also might have gotten out that we’re grabbing a drink after my shift. I’m sorry.”
“How did that happen? I didn’t mention it to…”
“Mateo.”
“Ah, Mateo, right.”
“He asked me why you were here, and I told him you needed a place to wait. He asked what you were waiting for, and I…well…I couldn’t come up with a lie in time,” He said.
“Did you want to keep it a secret?” You asked.
Robby shook his head. A small, self-conscious smile tugged at his mouth. “Not necessarily. I just…wasn’t sure how you felt about people knowing. Figured the last thing you needed tonight was more attention.”
You bit down on the inside of your cheek to stop a smile from forming. “You’re worried about my privacy?”
“Of course,” he admitted. “And about not making you uncomfortable. I didn’t know if this—” he gestured vaguely between the two of you, “—changes, now that I know who you are.”
“It only changes things if you let it.”
“I don’t want it to change,” Robby said, an air of confidence exuding from him.
“I don’t either.”
After a moment of silence, Robby slapped his hands on his knees and stood up from his chair.
“Well, I have about–” he checks his watch, “twenty-ish minutes left on my shift. Let me wrap up a few things, and we can head out. Sounds good?”
“Sounds great.”
“Oh, and try not to mesmerize any of my other staff,” Robby says, pulling your sweater up onto your shoulder. The brush of his hand was warm against your collarbone.
“No promises.”
Robby smirked and rolled his eyes before leaving. You sat for a moment, hand brushing up where his met your skin, reliving the feeling. Your phone buzzed, jolting you out of your head. You pull your phone from your jacket pocket and see a series of text messages from your manager.
Any updates? Are you still at the hospital? Is Luke okay?
You curse under your breath. You almost forgot that now you have to tell the rest of the band and your label that Luke was out. Under normal circumstances, you would’ve taken it to the other band members and your manager before a final decision was made. You didn’t care about the consequences. You did not want him in the band, and that was the end of it. You wiggled your thumbs, hovering over your screen, trying to figure out what on earth to say to him.
I’m still at the hospital, but I’m leaving soon. Luke is fine. He ODed.
You sent the messages and checked a few more, mostly from your bandmates and some other friends who were at the show before you turned your phone off. You wanted to enjoy the rest of your evening before inevitably facing reality. You sat by yourself for another few minutes before exhaling and pushing yourself out of the chair. Sitting alone with your thoughts wasn’t doing you any favors, and it had definitely been more than twenty minutes.
You slipped out of the break room, instinctively making yourself smaller. When you looked around, and no one was looking back at you. A relief. You shuffled over to the main desk, hovering awkwardly off to the side, unsure if you should just retreat back to the comfort of the break room.
“Looking for somebody?”
You looked up to see who you assumed was Dana. She had greying blonde hair tied up into a messy ponytail. Glasses resting on the edge of her nose, her eyes peering from above them at you, expectantly.
“Uh, just waiting for, uh, Dr. Robby.”
“Ah.” She looked around at the ED. “Sorry, hun, he’ll be done soon.”
“Thank you.”
She turned back to the computer, and you shifted on your feet. Your gaze drifted across the room, taking in the rhythm of it all. Everyone moved with purpose—slipping between curtained bays, scanning X-rays, sidestepping gurneys without breaking stride, calling out updates, passing off labs. It was controlled chaos. A lot like the controlled chaos of backstage before a gig. It was oddly comforting.
“You can sit,” Dana said, nudging an empty chair near the desk with her foot. You looked back over at her and took a seat.
“So, you’re a singer?” Dana asked, her eyes still focused on her work.
“Yeah, I am.”
“Mateo says you're famous?” She asks. You laugh to yourself. Unlike Robby, she doesn’t seem too interested in the details of your work.
“Yeah, I would say so,” you said, your mouth quirking up slightly.
“Very cool, kiddo,” Dana said, still typing away on the computer. She didn’t ask any other follow-up questions, and you were grateful for it. This day was exhausting enough, so a moment of silence was appreciated. You rested your elbows on the desk and your head in your hands. Your eyes fluttered closed, a relief from the bright lights of the ED. You drifted in and out of consciousness, letting your guard down.
A large hand rested lightly on your shoulder in an attempt not to scare you. “You ready?” Robby’s voice was light and easy from behind you, bringing you back to the world around you. His thumb rubbed gently against your clothed shoulder, spreading a warmth through your body.
“Yeah, I’m good.” You spun around in the chair and stood up. Your chest brushed against his, sending shock waves up your body. The two of you stood there for a moment before Robby took a step back, creating some distance between the two of you. Your instinct told you to take a step forward and savor his warmth, but you stood still, looking down at your shoes.
“You leavin'?” Dana asked, interrupting the moment you two were having.
“Yeah, we’re heading out,” Robby said, walking in front of the desk. You trailed behind him, hiding in the cover of his large frame. You weren’t scared, but you wanted to get out of the hospital without being approached again for your own sanity. Just as Robby turned to leave, a woman walked past you, reaching out to put a hand on your shoulder.
“I’m a big fan of you and Mirager—”
“Princess, leave it.” Dana snapped, her eyes staring daggers into the woman.
“It’s fine,” You said to Dana before directing your attention to the woman. “Thank you, I appreciate it.” She smiled at you and scurried off to a woman in a hijab, standing a few feet away, whispering something to her in a language you didn’t understand.
“Let’s go,” Robby says, wrapping his arm around your shoulders in an attempt to shield you from any curious eyes.
“Thank you,” You mumbled, pulling your hood up. Robby led you through the ED and out a back entrance to avoid the people waiting to be seen. You didn’t look up until you were safely outside in a parking garage. You let out a large sigh, your shoulders sagging from the weight of the day. You pulled off your hood and shoved your hands inside your pockets, following Robby past all the cars.
“That was…unnnerving,” Robby said. You looked up at him, startled.
“What was?” You asked, confused.
“Just the way you…I don’t know, turned on and off,” He tried to find the right words, looking down at you softly. “It was almost like you became a whole different person talking to Princess.”
You realized what he was getting at, nodding in understanding. “Yeah. That’s what I have to do when I’m in public. I don’t usually let my guard down until I’m at home.”
“That’s… Jesus, that’s shitty,” He said, processing it all.
“That’s my life,” You laughed, not lightly. It carried a lot of weight. The years of fame and constant awareness of what you looked like and how you left the house. “I usually don’t let go like I did then, when I’m not at home. Something about it felt safe,” You paused for a moment, before looking back up at Robby. “You felt safe, I guess.”
A warm smile washed over Robby’s face. “I’m glad I could do that for you.” He stopped in front of a beat-up green Honda. He rubbed his neck self-consciously. “Not riding in style like you’re used to. Sorry.”
You smiled widely, taking it in. “No, no, I…I love it. It’s amazing.”
“I don’t think I’d call this piece of junk amazing,” Robby said, running his hand up the side of the car.
“No, trust me, it is.” You walked over to the passenger’s side, your hand reaching for the rear door before stopping and opening the passenger side door instead. The two of you settled into the car, your hands rubbing against the faded leather seats.
“So, where are we going?” You asked, looking over at Robby. He bit his lip, thinking.
“Uh, well, there’s a small dive bar a few blocks from here. Should be pretty quiet,” He said, looking over at you.
I'm starting a new Dead Poets Society fic (Meeks x reader!!), and I just had to look up if they had water bottles in the 50s. Things you wouldn't think you'd ever need to know!
discoholicmusic
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
turnnoffyourmind
yousharknotpass
origamiaround
pixelskylines
