#she says faggot affectionately

[jervis-tetch-my-beloved]

[gotalottalegs]

Share or don’t I am not your dad but if you vote I will love you forever

[madamefeu]

Which characters in Hazbin Hotel can say the F word that means a not nice word for gay? Here’s another list:

Charlie: She can say it, but chooses not to. She would never say it, even to the higher ups of Heaven

Vaggie: Can say it, regularly says it to insult the hotel guests because let’s be real she hates everyone

Angel Dust: He can absolutely say it, and he calls himself a faggot on the regular

Husk: Can say it, but doesn't say it. There are far worse words for him to say, and he'll use those instead

Alastor: Can't say it, but he has far too much class to say it even if he could

Niffty: Can't say it, but thinks that she can because she has one gay friend (Angel). Alastor has taken to covering her mouth when she tries to say it in public

Cherri Bomb: She can say it, and when she does it sounds like she's calling you an affectionate nickname rather than a slur

Sir Pentious: He can say it, but only because it meant a bundle of sticks in his time period. If he wasn't from a time before it became a not nice word for gay, he wouldn't be allowed to say it

Rosie: Can't say it, but if she did it would sound like she's calling you sweetheart, like, she is so lovely

Lucifer: No, he cannot say it. He’s not a twink, he just likes being short and pathetic so that he can get powerful women to step on him. If being stepped on by women was a sport, he’d win the gold medal every time

Lillith: She is a hot goth dommy mommy, she can say it

Vox: He's dating another man, he can say it

Valentino: Can say it, but he never does because he'll use much worse words on his employees than faggot

Velvette: She calls Vox and Valentino faggots under her breath to get through her day. She can say it

Adam: Can't say it, but says it anyway and no one can stop him because he's too high ranking for anyone in Heaven to do anything about him saying it

Lute: Can say it, but won't say it unless you call her it first

Sera: Can say it, but never would, because unlike Adam, she wants to uphold the standards of Heaven

Emily: Doesn’t know the word, and lord help us the day she finds out because she’ll use it as the legal definition without realising that it’s a slur

[sixhours]

i know you by heart - chapter 2

Series Chapter Index | Read on AO3 | Complete

Rating: Explicit, 18+, here be smut Series tags: The Last of Us, The Last of Us (HBO), Prospect, Joel Miller x Ezra, Joel & Ellie, Ezra & Cee, Joel is bad at feelings and relationships, Ellie is a little shit (affectionate), mostly follows canon after season 1, SMUT, gay sex, bisexual!Joel, period-typical homophobia, light angst, romance, age gap (~10ish years), I've probably forgotten some so please let me know <3

When Joel was 17, he kissed a boy for the first time.

His name was Kenny Farmington, and they were both a little drunk on cheap beer and a nice Texas night and the special high that comes from being not quite a man and not quite a boy, stuck in that in-between time when it felt like anything was possible. Joel had a truck and a part-time job at Regis Construction and his whole life spread out before him like an open road.

It was a nice enough kiss. But when Joel opened his eyes after their lips parted and saw fear rather than lust in his friend’s eyes, he knew it ended there. Everyone knew Kenny’s dad was a raging homophobe who would “whoop his ass” if he thought his son might be “one of them dirty fuckin’ faggots”.

Joel wasn’t convinced his own father wouldn’t have had something to say about it had he known.

And, oh well. Joel liked girls, too. He liked them enough to bring Eileen Folsom home and make out with her in the basement rec room at her parents’ house until his cock was weeping and his balls were blue. He liked them well enough to get to third base with Cindy Sherwood in the back of his truck. He liked girls plenty.

It was the eighties, anyway. AIDS was spreading like wildfire, and small-town Texas was hardly the place to go looking for action if you weren’t straight as a goddamn arrow.

Four years later, Joel liked one particular girl enough to knock her up, and then he didn’t have much time to consider whether he’d want to kiss another boy, because he was going to be a father.

And then there was Sarah. And a divorce. And his parents died. And Tommy went off to war and came back, and there was overtime and working doubles to keep the roof over their heads and the payment on the truck up, and who the fuck had time to think about boys or girls or anyone in between.

And then there was cordyceps. And his daughter, his baby girl, bleeding out in his arms.

And then Joel didn’t spend much time thinking about what he liked at all. He kept going for the ones who needed him without a thought spared for himself.

And then came Ellie.

Ellie, who patched up his heart and turned his life upside down and made him care about something other than brute survival again. Tore down his walls and broke him open and somehow left him whole.

Whole, and…wanting.

Which is why, forty years after Kenny Farmington, he doesn’t feel bad about imagining another man’s face, or hands, or lips on his body when he strokes himself in the shower. He doesn’t feel ashamed when he gets off to the thought of another man’s mouth on his cock. It’s not the first time he’s been attracted to a man, and it won’t be the last.

No, he feels bad because that man is his daughter’s fucking therapist. That man is someone she needs to trust, someone she raves about over dinner, someone who is, in her words, “so fucking cool”.

And his duty, first and foremost, is to Ellie.

So he tries not to imagine Ezra when his libido comes roaring back to life after years of dormancy, boiling his blood and making him feel half his age.

And he fails, miserably.

He comes out of his own bad dreams to hers more often than not. Sometimes she calls for Riley, sometimes for him, and sometimes she just screams.

Tonight it’s the latter, and he’s across the hall and through her door in seconds, a reflex perfected over months.

“Hey, Ellie,” he mumbles, only half conscious. “Ellie, you’re okay.”

“He was–he–I can’t breathe ,” she chokes out, panting in short, wispy breaths.

“Yeah, y’can, in and out,” he says. “Like we practiced. C’mon, you got it. Breathe, baby girl.”

“Can’t,” she gasps, but he feels her back expand and contract under his palm, the movements slowing as each subsequent breath gets longer. He folds her into his arms and rubs her back the way she likes and whispers assurances into her hair as her panicked gasps turn into sobs.

“You’re okay. You’re okay. You’re okay, baby, you’re alright.”

In these moments, she goes from being the smart-mouthed, sassy little shit he loves to a scared, vulnerable little kid. He prefers her bratty. This is too much like those brutal winter days when they came so close to losing each other.

Eventually, she sniffs and scoots over so he can stretch out next to her on top of the covers. He puts his arm out so she can curl into him, one hand gripping his t-shirt at his side. He swears all his sleep shirts are stretched out funny; even after washing, they hold the imprint of her fingers.

They both sleep better this way, though neither of them will admit it. She swears she’s too old to snuggle and he worries what people might think. But after months on the road, after so many nights camped out next to each other in the dirt, the comfort of someone else’s breathing makes for a powerful lullaby.

“Bad one?” he asks, tracing the line of her temple with his thumb.

“They’re all bad ones,” she mutters into his chest. “Wish I wasn’t like this.”

“Like what?”

“All…broken and shit.”

“We’re all pretty fuckin’ broken, kiddo.”

“Yeah, but I’m like, extra broken.”

He swallows hard, wonders how many times he’s dreamed of a vast field bordered by blocked highways, the sound of helicopters overhead, gunfire in the distance. The smell of blood.

“Know it feels like that…but it’ll get better,” he whispers, hugging her tightly, wondering if it counts as a lie. “Jus’ takes time.”

He’s almost dozed off when she speaks again, her voice low and distant.

“I don’t belong here.”

His brow furrows. “What d’you mean?”

She doesn’t answer. He can’t imagine a world in which she doesn’t belong with him, can’t imagine a life where she isn’t exactly where she is right now. Knowing how close they came to that reality, just the thought is enough to set his heart to racing.

Swear to me.

“What do you mean, kiddo?” he prompts.

“Nothing,” she murmurs. “S’nothing, never mind.”

“Look, Ellie–”

“It’s fine, Joel. I’m just…tired,” she mumbles, nuzzling into his chest. “Don’t wanna talk.”

“Alright,” he whispers, cupping the back of her head. “Alright, then. Get some sleep.”

She does, and he doesn’t. He stares at the opposite wall and listens to her breathe and wonders if he will ever not feel like he’s failing her.

Ellie doesn’t offer much about her weekly appointments with Ezra and Joel doesn’t ask. Instead, she talks about the music they listened to (“None of that Linda Ronstadt shit.”) and begs Joel for a record player. He swaps one of his refurbished guitars for a small portable model at the trading post, and Ezra sends her home with new records each week.

There’s a lot of Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, and AC/DC, all played at a volume that Joel might find concerning if he wasn’t already half deaf.

Late November comes and she hasn’t had a nightmare in two weeks. She still grumbles about going to school, still talks back and swears like a goddamn sailor, but there are no more pink slips and she hasn’t stabbed any more desks. Or students.

Small favors.

They’re walking into the Saturday movie together before he sees Ezra again.

“What’re they playin’?” Joel asks.

“It’s a Wonderful Life," Ellie chirps. "It’s black and white, a classic.”

He wrinkles his nose. “Just ‘cause it’s in black and white don’t make it a classic.”

“Thought you’d like it that way. Means it’s old as dirt, like you.”

“Was born in ‘67, you little shit,” he grumbles. “We had color movies.”

“Whatever you say, grandpa.”

Ellie drags him into the rec center, eager to claim one of the big couches at the back so she can sprawl out and hog three-quarters of the damn thing.

“I save seats, you get popcorn,” she says. Joel makes a show of rolling his eyes at being bossed around, but this is part of the routine. He makes his way to the table with the little wax bags of popcorn and grabs two. He doesn’t like the stuff, it gets stuck in his teeth, but she’ll eat his portion. That’s also part of the routine.

He gets back to the couch and motions for her to scoot over. “I get the corner.”

She obliges, then takes her usual seat, propped against his right side in a heartbreakingly familiar position.

“Don’t fall asleep this time,” he mutters, handing her the popcorn.

“As if,” she scoffs.

“You did last week.”

“Yeah, ‘cause it was one of those stupid action movies.”

“ Die Hard is not a stupid action movie,” Joel grumbles. “You wanna talk about Christmas classics.”

“You’re kidding, right? What part of ‘dude spends two boring-ass hours climbing through air vents’ makes Die Hard a Christmas movie?”

Before he can make his case for Bruce Willis, she catches sight of someone across the room and gasps.

“Hey, Ezra! Over here!”

She jumps up and waves, eliciting a faint smile from the man as he approaches. “Hello, my young prodigy. And…just Joel.”

Joel nods in greeting; his tongue suddenly doesn’t want to cooperate.

“Sit with us,” she says, scooting closer to Joel and patting the seat.

“I wouldn’t want to impose,” Ezra says, eyes flicking uncertainly to Joel’s, but Ellie is already pulling him down on her other side.

“Plenty of room,” Joel coughs. “S’no trouble.”

As soon as Ezra’s butt hits the seat, Ellie begins chattering about Christmas movies as Ezra listens with rapt attention. Joel catches only a fraction of their conversation–he blames his bad ear and the rumble of the crowd filing in around them–but he can’t help but watch the two with an unexpected feeling of relief. It’s clear she’s made a friend.

The opening credits start and Ellie turns back to Joel, tucking herself under his arm. She munches on her popcorn until it’s gone, at which point Joel wordlessly hands her his share.

He’s never liked It’s a Wonderful Life , even less so after Sarah’s death. They watched it every Christmas at her insistence. He thought it was dumb then, and twenty years and an apocalypse have done nothing to change his opinion. But for Ellie, he’ll watch just about anything, one arm draped over the back of the couch as she cuddles up against him. 

Halfway through the movie, with their empty popcorn bags discarded on the floor, Ellie is curled up against Joel’s leg, head pillowed on his thigh, breathing deeply.

“Told ya not to fall asleep,” he murmurs, but he doesn’t try to move or wake her, reaching down to stroke her hair instead. Movie nights are good for something, even if it means suffering through Jimmy Stewart’s manufactured crisis.

When he looks up again, Ezra’s attention has drifted from the movie to watch them, a soft expression on his face. Their eyes meet and he smiles a little and Joel feels that warm flush creep up his neck.

He’s used to people avoiding him. Walking around with his scowl and his “asshole voice”, as Ellie calls it. It worked in the QZ and it works in Jackson. He’s known for being gruff and stoic and taking no bullshit. He saves his smiles for Ellie’s shitty puns.

If that makes him an asshole, so be it.

But Ezra clearly hasn’t gotten the message, and Joel doesn’t know what to make of that.

When the movie is over, he rouses Ellie with a gentle flick to her ear. “Wake up, sleepyhead.”

“Mmmph,” she growls. “Didn’t fall asleep, asshole.”

“Sure, kid,” he mutters. “C’mon, let’s get you home.”

She makes it to her feet, rubbing her eyes, and lets Joel help her with her jacket, one of the sleeves having turned inside out in her rush to claim the couch.

“Bye, Ezra,” she yawns.

“Goodnight, young prodigy. Joel,” he nods, those warm brown eyes lingering. He opens his mouth as if to say something else, but doesn’t, and then Ellie is pulling Joel into the exiting crowd.

They’re eating dinner at the caf next week when Ellie brings him up again.

“Ezra wants you.”

Joel chokes on a bite of stew. “W-what?”

“Chew much?” Ellie raises an eyebrow. “I said, Ezra wants to see you.”

“Oh, right, uh…why does…Ezra wanna see me?” he coughs, reaching for his water.

“My last session’s on Wednesday. He wants to ‘check in’ or whatever.”

“Oh…right…fine,” Joel says, pulse suddenly a nagging throb in his throat. “I’ll, uh…I’ll drop by tomorrow before patrol.”

“Tomorrow’s Sunday.”

“Yeah?” Joel stabs at a carrot. “So?”

“Sooooo he’s not in on Sundays.”

“M’sure he can spare five minutes,” Joel mutters.

“Whatever, dude,” Ellie shrugs. “Oh, hey–Dina invited me to go with her and Jesse after stable duty. They’re gonna show me around the south quad; the sheep pasture. Your favorite.”

“Dina…Dina,” Joel mutters, thinking. “Wait, ain’t that the one who–”

“Yeah,” Ellie says, blushing a little. “She’s kinda cool when she’s not being a fucking jerk.”

Joel hides his smile in his mug. “Alright. Just be careful an’ get back here for dinner.”

“Sir, yes sir,” she says through a mouthful of potatoes, throwing in a little mock salute.

This time, he doesn’t bother hiding his smile.

He finds himself on Ezra’s doorstep the next morning. Faint music drifts from inside and by the time he finally works up the courage to knock, Ezra is peering at him from the other side of the glass, half-naked and toweling his hair dry.

“Oh, uh…hey. I, uh–”

Joel tells himself the cold December air accounts for the sudden flush of color in his cheeks. Ezra’s torso is still slick from the shower, a pair of gray sweats hanging low on narrow hips. His bare chest, much like Joel’s, is dappled with scars. He finds himself entranced by a drop of water that escapes a dark curl and lands on his neck, slipping down the length of his throat and settling on one firm pectoral. Joel bites the inside of his lower lip hard.

Maybe Sunday was a bad idea.

“Joel! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

And maybe Joel is reading too much into it, but the way Ezra’s face lights up makes him think it is a pleasure.

“Uh…I can come back–”

But the other man has already opened the door and is ushering him inside. “Nonsense, come in.”

“Ellie said you wanted, uh…needed to see me?”

“I did! I do. ”

The strains of a Tom Petty song float from the office. Ezra ducks in and stops the player with a light needle scratch.

“Coffee? It’s not the genuine article, I’m afraid, just chicory, but I brewed more than enough for two.”

“Uh…sure. Thanks.”

“Make yourself comfortable, I’ll return posthaste.”

‘Posthaste.’ Jesus.

Joel stands at the door of the little office with his hands in his pockets, slowly taking in the room with fresh eyes. He’s drawn to the record shelf. Curious, he thumbs lightly through the stacks of vinyl, finding an eclectic mix of basically everything. There’s even some of “that Linda Ronstadt shit”.

“Your young prodigy prefers Pearl Jam,” Ezra says from the doorway, startling Joel a little. “I’m trying to broaden her horizons a bit.”

He’s put on a t-shirt, his hair still tousled and damp around his ears, and he holds out a steaming mug of chicory coffee.

“Thanks,” Joel takes it gruffly, sips at it, burns his tongue, sputtering and making a damn fool of himself in the process. “Yeah, she’s, uh…she’s really impressed with your collection.”

“We’ve had quite the musical education,” Ezra smiles, that same boyish grin. “I’ve enjoyed her company immensely over these last few weeks, I have to say.”

“Uh…good,” Joel says. “She, uh, said you needed me for somethin’?”

“Sure, sure. Have a seat.”

Joel does, setting his mug down on the coffee table as Ezra does the same. 

“The council mandated twelve weeks; our last appointment is coming up. I just wanted to convey my deep appreciation for–”

The office door, slightly ajar, is suddenly flung open.

“Ez, I’m gonna–whoa.”

A lanky, blonde-haired girl, not much older than Ellie by Joel’s estimation, rushes into the room, then stops short. She blinks at Joel and grimaces in apology.

“Door was open,” the girl says.

“We’re not–I’m not working, Cee,” Ezra says. “Cee, this is Joel. Joel, Cee.”

“Hi,” Cee says. “Sorry, I just…I’m at the greenhouse today. ‘Til six.”

Ezra nods. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, birdie.”

And then she’s gone with a wave and a “later” over her shoulder, and Ezra’s smile softens.

“I have a young prodigy of my own,” he murmurs. “You aren’t the only one to take in a stray.”

“Your kid?”

“No…no, not exactly. I’m afraid I don’t share your fatherly tendencies,” he muses. “Fellow travelers, let’s say. She’s helped me out of a scrape or two, and I do the same when I can. We make a formidable team…as do you and your Ellie, I believe.”

Joel bites his lip. When they were on the road, he would have said they made a good team. Now he’s not so sure.

“Right, uh…you were sayin’, about Ellie?”

Ezra smiles and relaxes back into his chair.

“Joel, I think your young prodigy is quite possibly the sanest person alive in the town of Jackson. She has a knack for seeing things exactly as they are, and the soul of someone twice her age. It’s truly…remarkable. It’s evident she’s endured some trauma, but she has a strong constitution.”

Joel braces himself for the inevitable “but”.

She won’t behave. She swears too much. She’s too loud.

She needs someone who can take care of her, and you’re not cutting it.

You’re failing her.

“But…?”

Ezra raises an eyebrow, shrugs. “That’s it. I know from some…personal experience,” he says, eyes flicking toward the office door, “that it’s sometimes difficult for a man to know where he stands with these things. For what it’s worth, you’re doing a fine job with her.”

Joel snorts softly. “Yeah, right.”

“I am wholeheartedly serious,” the other man says. “I’m sure she’s awash in the usual teenage reticence, but in present company, she speaks of you fondly. She tells me she’s lucky to have you, perhaps not in so many words, but it’s there. And I’d agree. She is lucky to have you, Joel.”

Joel blinks, surprised to feel the prickle of tears in the corners of his eyes, the sudden overwhelming relief of it. He ducks his head.

“That’s…uh…that’s good,” Joel manages. “She’s, uh…”

He can’t finish, his tongue feels stuck in his mouth. Ezra nudges a basket of handkerchiefs across the coffee table, and Joel almost laughs aloud at the absurdity. A year ago, if someone told him he’d be crying in a therapist’s office he would have shot them point blank and slept like a damn baby after.

She’s my whole damn world.

She deserves better.

“She’s a good kid,” he finishes thickly.

“Indeed. For the purposes of the council’s involvement, I don’t think she’s a danger to herself or others,” Ezra continues. “And that’s what I’ll be putting in my report.”

“Alright. That’s…that’s real good,” Joel sighs.

He swipes a cloth from the basket and rubs at his eyes. It’s like taking his first breath of air after drowning. For the first time since arriving in Jackson, he thinks maybe she’s going to be fine. They might just make it through.

Ezra gets up and Joel does the same, crumpling the cloth and stuffing the evidence into his pocket.

“Before you go, would you humor me?” Ezra says. “There’s something I like to do with my clients. Not that you’re a client, but…I’d like to satisfy a certain…curiosity.”

He goes to the record shelf and begins thumbing through the albums as if looking for something specific. Eventually, he pulls one down, examining it thoughtfully before turning and bringing it over.

“Give this a listen,” Ezra murmurs. “Tell me what you think. A…musician’s opinion.”

Butterflies alight in Joel’s stomach at the timbre of his voice. That wanting is back, filling in for the weight of the anxiety he’s carried for so many months. Ezra watches Joel’s face with an odd kind of quiet, as if searching for something.

If Joel didn’t know better, he’d think he was nervous.

“Uh, sure,” he says, accepting the album after a too-long pause. “I’ll…let you know.”

And then the moment is gone, and Joel is leaving, record tucked under one arm, half relieved, half longing, and entirely confused.

Later, he sneaks into Ellie’s room to borrow the record player. He takes it to his room, plugs it in, and unsheathes the album.

Eva Cassidy, Songbird .

Joel recognizes the title track, but it’s a softer rendition, softer than any of the music Ellie has brought home and blasted at top volume.

The woman’s soulful, sweet voice draws him in. It’s almost sad. It’s the kind of music that reminds him of Sarah, something she would have asked him to play on the rare nights he was home with enough time to do so. Something she would have sung along with in her soft soprano voice.

Midnights in winter

The glowing fire

Lights up your face in orange and gold

I see your sweet smile

Shine through the darkness

It's line is etched in my memory

So I'd know you by heart

Before long, he’s reaching for his guitar and replacing the needle to repeat the track, frowning as he tries to suss out the key and the chord progression.

Ellie finds him that way sometime later, perched on the edge of the bed with his guitar in his lap.

“Joel, where’d the record pl–oh, hey.”

“Hey, kiddo,” he says, blinking into the dim light. “Sorry…guess I lost track of time. Got caught up here.”

“What is it?”

“Oh, uh…saw Ezra today. He gave me this,” he gestures to the record. “Thought I’d try to play a little.”

She narrows her eyes. “Did you guys talk about me?”

“Yep,” he says, setting the guitar aside. “Ezra told me all the dirt on you.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

“Said you’re a menace to society. Should lock you up and throw away the key.”

Ellie grins. “Did not.”

“Did too,” Joel smirks. “Said you’re crazier than a squirrel in a nuthouse. Loonier than a lake full of…uh, loons.”

She giggles, music to his ears. “Shut up.”

He has the sudden, desperate desire to pull her in for a hug and ruffle her hair. He settles for giving her shoulder a squeeze.

“How ‘bout we go get some dinner?” he says, standing and propping Songbird up on his dresser for safekeeping. “My treat.”

“You mean the caf’s treat, asshole. And I want my record player back.”

“Who says it’s yours? Don’t see your name on it.”

“Dude, c’mon .”

“So…what do you know about this Ezra guy?”

It’s Christmas Eve, and they’re sitting at the table in Tommy and Maria’s kitchen. It’s been over a week since his conversation with Ezra. He hasn’t been able to get the other man out of his mind, and he definitely doesn’t know what to make of the record album sitting on his bedroom dresser.

Tommy frowns. “Ezra…Ezra…that the one without an arm?”

“Uh-huh.”

A shrug. “Gettin’ hard to keep track, lot of new folks comin’ through. Think he came in a few months ‘fore you, though. Had a girl with him, that much I remember. Why?”

He takes a sip of his beer. “Just curious, s’all. Ellie was seein’ him for the stuff that happened at school. What’d he do before?”

Giggles float in from the living room. Out of the corner of his eye, Joel watches Ellie sitting on the floor next to the tree–her first Christmas ever , she’d eagerly tell anyone who would listen–playing with baby Isabel while Maria dozes on the couch. All of them are stuffed full of a holiday meal that might have been a week’s worth of rations in the QZ.

Sometimes Jackson feels like a mirage in the desert. It’s almost too normal, too safe to be real.

“Think they broke off from a raidin’ party. Honestly, I don’t think we would’ve taken them in ‘cept the girl was in rough shape. Thought maybe he was…y’know…usin’ her or somethin’.”

Joel winces, shoots his brother a knowing look. They’d seen worse.

“But she insisted. Vouched for him,” Tommy continues. “Bit of an odd pair. Just like you and Ellie, I guess.”

“Hmm.”

“Why you askin’?”

He can’t meet his brother’s eyes. “No reason.”

“He’s an odd one but seems harmless. Or harmless enough. Talks fancy,” he mutters. “His kid’s a bit shy but smart as a whip. Reminds me of–”

Tommy stops abruptly, glancing at Joel from the corner of his eye as he takes a long swallow of beer.

“You can say her name, y’know,” Joel murmurs, frowning, scratching at an invisible spot on the table’s surface. “Sarah.”

“Sarah,” Tommy nods, then continues softly, “To be fair, big brother, there was a time when I couldn’t.”

“Yeah, well…things change,” Joel mutters.

He still can’t look at his niece without thinking of her, can’t hold her without feeling the weight of one who didn’t make it on his heart.

But at least he can say her damn name.

“An’ cheers to that,” Tommy smiles, lightly clinking his bottle against Joel’s. “How’s Ellie doin’, anyway?”

He tips his head toward the living room.

“Better,” Joel says, surprised to find he means it. “Think she’s settlin’ in alright.”

“She’s warmin’ up to me,” Tommy grins. “I know she’s been a little prickly. But the other day she caught me at the stables to ask about goin’ on patrols.”

“What’d you tell her?”

“She’s gotta be sixteen to start trainin’…and she needs your permission. Mighta told her that wouldn’t be a problem,” he grins. “Told her I could sweet talk you into just about anythin’.”

Joel rolls his eyes. “Christ.”

“Offered to take her out at some point if it’s alright with you. Just her and me. Said she’d think about it. That’s somethin’, right?”

The hopeful note in his voice is almost heartbreaking. Sarah and her uncle had been thick as thieves, and Tommy’s eagerness to fill that role for Ellie radiated off him like heat off the pavement in a Texas July. He’d been standing on their doorstep two days after they’d come back to Jackson, ready to be the best damn uncle there ever was.

But Ellie was like a feral cat, slow to warm and quick to bite. Didn’t matter that Tommy was family, didn’t matter that Joel trusted him more than anyone else in Jackson, didn’t matter that Tommy would have let her get away with murder if she asked nice. Whether out of jealousy or fear, she’d resisted his careful advances and bribes.

“Yeah…that’s somethin’,” Joel agrees, smirking. 

“How ‘bout you?”

“How ‘bout me what?”

“How’re you settlin’ in?”

Joel snorts. “You sound like Ezra.”

“Yeah? Well…couldn’t hurt to make some friends, maybe.”

“M’fine, Tommy.”

Tommy shrugs. “Just sayin’. If you’re not careful, Maria’ll try to set you up. Likes to think she’s a matchmaker with all that spare time of hers.”

Joel tries and fails to hide a shudder. Yeah, he’s noticed the attention. It’s a small town with an even smaller dating pool, and he might as well be fresh meat thrown into the lion’s den. Ellie gets a kick out of watching him squirm when women approach him at the caf, is all too eager to string them along on his behalf when she really wants to be a shit-stirrer.

His asshole voice gets plenty of use.

Maybe if it were the right person…well. That would be a different story, one that makes him think of the album on his dresser again.

But he’s sure as hell not gonna tell Tommy any of that.

“M’not lookin’ for anything,” he mutters instead, sipping at his beer. “Got my hands full with that one.”

Ellie sits with the baby in her lap. They’ve turned their attention to the packages under the tree. Joel watches as Ellie picks up the presents one by one, checking the tags and shaking them, then offering them to Izzy to chew on. Tomorrow, half the presents will be sticky with drool and tiny teeth marks.

“You sure do, brother,” Tommy chuckles. “You sure do.”

[kirkwall-idiot]

Ok guys it's story time:

Earlier this year me and some of my friends (all of us are queer, it's important for later) started watching House M.D and obviously since we all have eye we zeroed in on House' and Wilson's dynamic and started affectionately calling them "those fucking faggots" ("i froci di merda" in italiano se vogliamo essere accurati sulla terminologia) when we were talking about them with each other.

Cut to a couple of months later and I'm out drinking with some straight friends of mine that at the time I was not out to and for whatever reason while we were talking I started to retell them the plot of a random House episode and ended it by talking about something House and Wilson did in the episode calling them "those fucking faggots" out of habit. After this I went back to sipping my piñacolada as I failed to notice a sudden silence around the table until one of my friends rightfully said "you shouldn't talk like that. It's pretty offensive you know?" and it took me honest to god a full 5 seconds, during which I kept on drinking the piñacolada, to realize what the hell she was talking about before I started to laugh and explain why "no, no chill it's fine I can say that actually".

And that is the story of how a 20 year old show is the reason behind my coming out to part of my friend group.

Grazie Gregory ❤️

[verdemoun]

sean and lenny should do the trend where one of them gets maeve to tell them to shut up in front of the other to see their reaction

maeve the modern era van der linde macsummers

first time she uses fuck in a correct sentence she when she was three, tripped over, said 'fuck' under her breath and then got up and kept walking. sean was trying very, very hard not to laugh while lenny was mortified

she picks up most of her cussing from sean, who can't help the fact fuck has been part of his vocabulary since he was 12. maeve knows pretty much every cuss word by the time she is 5

because maeve macsummers thrives on attention: positive or negative: they are under strict instructions not to react when she swears. this is very very difficult because she knows how damned cute she is and that it's objectively funny seeing a rosy cheeked toddler swear like a sailor

one day when sean and lenny were being particularly loving and cute, karen rolls her eyes and affectionately called them faggots. the color drained from very single person's face as maeve merrily repeated 'faggots' at the top of her lungs. as they all screamed no, the glint in maeve's eyes told them she had found her new favourite word

she would not stop saying it. they bribed her, they begged, they tried time outs. nothing. first gang catch up after they are begging her please do not say it and instead she skips her way around with abigail jr diagnosing with shocking accuracy all the gays in her family

in her teens though maeve is just a modern era girl who does all the tiktok trends. she's made hosea hold a jacket for a flea, she's (with permission) yelled at sean to shut up only for lenny to walk in and give her the whole you do not speak to your father like that lecture, she asked lenny if the fact she is his daughter means she has an n-word pass only to cut off when lenny says 'go on then' and she panics, 'quick dads there's water running out of the bathroom', to the point lenny and sean had to start watching tiktoks to know which prank would be coming next

when she attempted the 'calling parents by first name prank' they were ready. of course they have only ever called lenny lenny and when he said 'you know my name's leonard, right?' maeve short-circuted and they posted her reaction to finding out she didn't actually know her dad's government name

[blood-injections]

You know what. Rundown of my killjoy ocs becuase I don’t i ocpost enough

Ignition Wizard-

He/it, transmasc, my self insert. Zoneborn but never really had a crew, host of the radio station Lucky 107.7 , which he broadcasts from the bus he lives out of, always on the move, in zone two one day and six the next. Just a funky dude. Will give you free tattoos if you ask.

Cal-e Condor

Agender they/it amab. Ummm gay weirdo, wacky name, you just say it like Cali as in California Condor. Cowboy. Has twin bedazzled blasters and carrys daggers. Wears a crazy tasseled leather jacket with a thunderbird painted across the back. Lots of piercings and tattoos, currently has braids down to their fucking knees. Hottest mf in the zones honestly. Lone wolf, no crew but lots of friends, really outgoing and bold/flamboyant but simultaneously quiet and mysterious? Absolutely fucks on the dance floor. Engineer.

Virtuoso Viper

Comes off as an asshole but is actually cool. He/xe dirtbag transmasc. Lowkey Condor’s homoerotic rival. Cocky bastard of a motorbike racer. He has a crush on Kobra Kid and it’s kind of pathetic. Can fly a plane, at least he claims he can. There’s no planes in the zones. He wants to build one. Sings and plays guitar in a little folk punk band with his best friend. He can often be spotted hanging out at the tip of that one old radio tower by the Nest(it’s the tallest one in the zones), he loves to climb but really needs to stop before he falls and breaks something. Also he has orange hair but a key lime green blaster it’s so fucking ugly. He has zero style. At least he’s confident.

Mold Moth

He/she amab but not cis. Nobody is cis. Um. Biggest faggot in the zones. He idiolized Mad Gear so hard he became a younger, nastier version of him. Like Mad Gears a crazy guy but Mold is fucking batshit, like something is actually seriously wrong with him but whatever, he’s cool. He’s fueled by anger issues and gay sex and dreams of being the main character in 80s horror films because he thinks it’d be fun. He named his band Mold Moth and the Rot in Your Hole and his music kind of sucks but in a sexy way. He wants to eat button batteries so bad, like by the handful like mnms. Fucking Freak(affectionate)

Miss Lithium

Dommy mommy. Who said that. Genderless giant. She/they/he/it/fucking anything they don’t care. Over six feet tall. Badass, goth, etc. DJs sometimes, can build bombs. Smokes weed and fucks. Not in a crew, lives with Prince Computer and they’re technically dating but the relationship is open. Is secretly scared of death.

Prince Computer

No one actually calls him that, sure it’s his name but one day he saw the word smorzando written on some sheet music and was like that would be a cool name.. and now he’s stuck with it. He doomed himself, his girlfriend won’t call him anything but Smorz. (S’mores). It’s cute. He/it, Fun Ghoul coded, as in he’s a dog of a guy, fucking puppy ass mf, assigned bottom by literally everyone and they’re not wrong. Kind of a slut, flirts with everybody, is a medic. Writes fucking angsty poetry he’s absolutely pathetic I love him. The most little meow meow out of my ocs.

Saint Silica

Haven’t decided much about this oc yet but they’re doomed by the narrative basically. What I do know is they’re cool and people are scared of them because they’re like, literally ghostly in a way. they have a scary aura about them, but they’re actually really gentle and troubled, don’t like violence but hate bli so they fight anyway. I think they’ve just been touched by the Witch. But they’re lonely and scared of losing their purpose. Basically they’re just a really fucking cool name that I’m still trying to come up with a crazy story for that lives up to it

[ucetheones]

Why Didn't You Tell Me?

Just a little update on my requests: I'm actively working on them! I just started this before and wanted to get it out of the way. Just keep sending them!! I accept imagines too.

Jey isn't used to being handled delicately. 

He isn't used to gentle touches, or kind hands on his body. 

Growing up, most people handled Jey with a rougher hand than his twin, and younger brother. Where Jimmy was praised and patted on the back for accomplishments, Jey was gripped and snarled at. When Jimmy would get overly excited, his mom would gently reprimand him, multiple times if needed. When Jey got that way, his mother's patience seemed to run thin almost immediately. 

In their defense, his mother and father did their best to be kind to him, but he suspects they knew there was something wrong with their son from the start. His father would call him a faggot when he'd cry too long, or if he was a little too close to a boy friend. 

He didn't know what the word meant, but it stung nonetheless. 

Though, the words stung a little less than the slap across the face that followed. 

Apologies in the form of gifts always came after, but the words 'I'm sorry, I love you' and physical comfort never accompanied them.

The only soft touches Jey was able to access was usually snuggling up with his younger brother when the boy would have a bad dream. Whether intentionally or not, Solo never sought anyone out but Jey. 

Eventually though, Solo grew out of needing his big brother to chase away the nighttime scaries, and with that growth, went the only person to hug the boy for more than a few seconds.

Jimmy used to be physically affectionate with Jey, but as they grew older the hugs, and kisses to his forehead were reserved for important moments.

For years, Jey convinced himself he didn't need to be handled with care, he wasn't some fragile thing who couldn't function without human touch. 

It worked for a while, it truly did, but by tenth grade, when his twin brother, cousin and all their friends had found girlfriends or flings, Jey had found himself wanting more and more a person who would hold him in their arms like it mattered. Like he mattered.

His friends, Roman and Jimmy teased him relentlessly for being the only person in their group without a girlfriend. 

Jey didn't know how to say he didn't want a girlfriend. He didn't want the companionship of a woman. So, he didn't tell them. 

Instead, he swallowed down his true wants and found himself a girlfriend. Her name was Rhea, and she was probably the prettiest girl Jey had ever laid eyes on. She actually asked him out first, and Jey readily agreed, especially with Jimmy standing beside him. He couldn't afford to turn her down without a feasible answer. 

So, they went on a date. And then another one, and then a few more. But, for the months they'd already been a couple, they hadn't so much as kissed once. She hadn't made the first move, and neither had Jey. It largely went unnoticed by Jey, until one day Solo asked him what his first kiss with Rhea had been like and he had to confess to the younger one they hadn't kissed yet. 

Solo hadn't laughed or even seemed shocked, he simply nodded at his older brother and softly whispered, "It's okay if you never kiss her, you know? Sometimes girls and guys don't belong together and that's okay! My friend's brother doesn't even date girls, and he's awesome."

Jey was stunned, in truth. His baby brother was clearly more mature than they'd ever given him credit for.

After the conversation with Solo, Jey found himself questioning what he was doing in a relationship with someone he wasn't attracted to beyond finding them pretty. So, he set out to break up with Rhea. Only after his explanation, the girl burst into laughter, her hand covering her mouth.

"Oh, baby. I guess we never did explicitly agree to be each other's beards. I thought you knew I like girls."

Jey isn't sure he wants to laugh, or be sick. It all made so much sense, at least for Rhea it did. But for Jey? Not so much. It's not like he didn't know what a beard was, or why people had them. It just wasn't for Jey…right?

"I'm not gay, though…" The words sound unsure to his own ears and Jey wants to wince. To her credit, Rhea doesn't laugh, but she looks at Jey with something akin to pity, and it makes his skin crawl.

"I'm not gonna tell you what you are, or aren't, but when you told me your brother and cousin were hounding you for not being interested in girls, I assumed you were queer...that was my bad."

Jey nods in understanding. He supposes that's fair, especially if he puts himself in Rhea's shoes. She needed a beard to hide her sexuality, and Jey needed one to get his cousin and brother off his back.

Rhea nervously chews at her lower lip, before blurting out, "you'll still be my beard, at least until you're ready to find someone; right? It keeps my dad off my back…" 

Jey takes a moment to mull it over before deciding he has very little to lose in this, so he nods. "Yeah, I gotchu' Rhea. Don't even sweat it, you're still doin' me a favor, anyway."

Rhea smiles brightly at him, it makes him feel good. Needed. 

That night in bed as Jey goes over the conversation, he can't help but wonder if maybe Rhea was right. 

What if he was queer? He could always admit when a guy was attractive, and had on more than one occasion found himself wondering what it'd feel like to kiss a guy…but those thoughts always felt too dangerous to venture out into. There's a wall that blocks Jey from accepting those thoughts long enough to do something with them.

Even now, in his own head, he feels like he can't let himself dig any deeper. It's too scary. It promises pain Jey knows he won't recover from.

It takes him longer to fall asleep than usual, and Jimmy's snoring definitely didn't do him any favors.

It's almost a full year before Rhea shyly tells him she found a girlfriend, her cheeks are bright red as she speaks and Jey can't help but smile for her.

"Tell me about her, Uce." That seems to be all it takes before the girl is launching into a story about her partner Liv. 

It only takes Jey a moment to pinpoint how he knows the name. She was in his English class a few years back.

Jey is happy for Rhea, he truly is. But now, he can't help but wonder if he's missing something. Rhea had found someone, but he hadn't even bothered trying. 

Deep, deep down, Jey knows why he wasn't able to find anyone. He hadn't tried to find someone because finding someone meant acknowledging the elephant in the room.

His fucking sexuality.

In truth, he also knows he should tell Jimmy and Roman his…issues surrounding his sexuality. They're the people closest to him, and all he's been doing is lying to them and keeping bits of himself fully locked away. But he also can't know how they'll take it. Would they be okay with it? Would they shun him? 

Would Jimmy tell their father that his biggest fear was confirmed? His son was deplorable. His flesh and blood was tainted by the very thing he worked so hard to keep Jey away from.

Maybe it was best to keep this inside. Maybe he could bring it up to Rhea. She was his safe space, after all. The only person besides Solo who truly knew that Jey wasn't even remotely interested in women.

It was a Friday when Jey was able to bring it up to Rhea. They'd been at his house watching movies and eating junk food, something Jey only indulged in with her. One film had ended, and they were in the middle of choosing a second when Jey blurted out,

 "I think I'm gay." 

His mouth clamped shut almost immediately, his heart was racing wildly in his chest and he couldn't fight the nagging feeling he'd made a mistake in admitting it.

To her credit, Rhea merely nodded and chucked the remote away, her body turning to lock eyes with the boy.

"I think you're gay too, honestly." She purses her lips, "and not because you 'act gay' like your dad has accused you of." Her tone takes an edge to it that's only present when she mentions her own father, or Jey's. He figures it has to do with their less than ideal parenting styles.

He nods softly at her words, knows she isn't finished from the furrow in her brow.

"Can I ask what brought this on?"

Jey almost feels ashamed to tell her that he's been developing a crush on the new boy in her friend group, but instead he shrugs, "Dom…" 

He turns his head so they're eyes aren't meeting anymore, but he swears he can still see the shit eating grin that overtakes her features. 

"My Dom-Dom?! You like him?!" 

Jey is quick to shush her, his face hardening into a glare. 

"Shut the fuck up! Jimmy is next door." Rhea holds her hands up in surrender, her pitch dropping, "that wasn't a no. You have a crush on Dominik." It isn't a question, it's a statement. 

Again, Jey shrugs his shoulders, now stuffing a handful of popcorn into his mouth to stall answering. "He's…pretty, I guess." Though he sounds unsure to himself, he also feels relieved to have admitted the truth. "It isn't like it matters, anyway though, he's probably straight."

The girl glares in his direction before tossing a gummy worm at his head. "Hey!"

"Don't be so fucking stupid, as if I would hang out with a straight person." Jey wants to cite himself as proof of the opposite, but this conversation isn't exactly straight. And neither is the reason Rhea had sought him out in the beginning, so he clamps his mouth shut and kisses his teeth. 

"You ain't gotta call me stupid, man. I just admitted to finding a guy pretty and my intelligence is attacked?" The pout on his lips is almost comical to the latter, but she has no time to comment before there's a shattering sound by the door before it's swung open revealing Jimmy. His brows are pinched, and there's a bowl of chips scattered at his feet.

He looks equal parts betrayed and like he'll throw up at any moment.

"You gay, Uce…?"

[wybbit]

moments with other trans people that made me happy:

- a trans boy i dated in high school being the first person willing to call me "they" when i was questioning my gender, and calling me a faggot (affectionately)

- going to school with a more masc hairstyle and my trans fem classmate squealing and saying "aw, you look like a little boy!" (i have a baby face it's fine.) we did a dumb roleplay with her as a TMZ interviewer touring my frat house in gym class.

- sharing wrabel's "the village" mv with a trans man i met online who lived in a more conservative country, to cheer him up. he liked it a lot, and got a good cry out of it. i wish i could've done more.

- my older sister's transgender ex-gf asking me if i was trans bc she had Picked Up on a few things. she said she'd call me by my chosen name when we talk and said she would be there if i ever needed support. she goes out of her way to call me things like "bud" and "champ" now. it's sweet.

[inland--empire]

Ok sure. Which TNMN characters can say the F slur

Roman: No, and he wouldn't say it.

Lois: She can and she will say it, but it's in a friendly way like it's affectionate.

Robertsky: ...maybe, but he's not saying it anyways.

Albertsky: Same as above

Angus: Does it matter if he can or not? He's saying it anyways.

Elenois: Yeah. And she does say it.

Selenne: No. And she doesn't say it.

Arnold: He for sure can but like. He physically can't he doesn't like it.

Gloria: She can and she will look you dead in the eyes and say it. But she's allowed to she has been through it.

Izaack: Look at him.

Margarette: She's been in the community for years she can say it. She usually doesn't but.

Nacha: Considering everything, Nacha can do whatever she wants forever

Anastacha: Double for her

Dr. Afton: No. He does still say it.

Mia: Yes. She doesn't say it.

Francis: He can say it.

Steven: Steven can also do whatever the fuck she wants.

Mclooy: He has been calling people faggots for years he is not stopping now.

Alf: 100% no. He still says it.

Rafttellyn: No, and she'll say it under her breath

[forbidding-souda]

How about fuyuhiko and gundham with a male s/o, where they're out in public and have to deal with homophobia?

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu and Gundham Tanaka with their boyfriend dealing with homophobia

i was just walking to the bus the other day and a truck filled with bro dudes pulled to the side of the side and yelled slurs at me before driving away i was like bruh

it's funny bc i'm deaf and they were yelling paragraphs and i was standing there texting someone as they pulled up and i was thinking oh my god i can't text and try to listen to people at the same time so i looked up and then caught the word faggot and i was like ohhhh that's what this is

currently listening: surfin' bird by ramones

playlist: main playlist

-Mod Souda

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu

❤ It originally was a 'double life' for him. He would be a brutal, murderous fiend during the on-hours and during the off-hours he would be a loving boyfriend who kisses your fingers and watches movie with you. As an adult he would hardly think about his sexuality as something he needed to keep hidden, or that it was something he was worried about other people finding out about. The two of you hardly go out in public together at all in the first place. It's mostly because of the fear of letting the public eye see you associate with the yakuza that would ruin your reputation: remove you from your job and get you kicked from social circles. Although, the two of you seemed to stop caring the longer the relationship went on for. As long as Peko goes with you (if you are extremely cautious of your reputation) you can pretend to be outside with her accompanying you rather than the SHSL Yakuza.

❤ Peko is more on the offense than he is. By the mere mention of something microaggressive, no matter if it's directed towards you and your boyfriend or not, she is quick to draw her sword and point it at the culprit. She will hold a glare of indignation in her striking red eyes. He never responds to them unless she threatens them first. The things people say in general are never rejecting the idea of the two of you as a couple, sexuality wise - it is mostly just strangers uncomfortable with the acts of affection you display in public. His stand-off nature is still there - he will still argue with them, showing his teeth and clenching his fists. The amount of threats and curses that leave his lisp is remarkable. But Peko is always the one that strikes.

"You guys are so embarrassing." You whisper under your breath, walking by yourself, listening to Fuyuhiko continuously rattle off insults, going the distance almost an entire building before you let yourself turn around. Someone older had snapped at him to stop wrapping his arm around you, saying something about how indecent homosexual people are, and before Fuyuhiko could even listen to their command Peko pulled her sword. You had cringed, biting your lip and slipping away from his grasp, not excited at all to be in this confrontation. You just wanted to melt into the sidewalk.

"What was that last part, man?" He leaned back, shifting his weight on his feet, raising his hands in the air.

When the passer-byers started to stare, you walked away. And now you stand, leaning against a building, not far away enough for him not to see you, but enough to put yourself out of the eye of everyone else.

A loud drop dead echoes down the street. You close your eyes. Hopefully he doesn't mean that literally.

There is no scream. No people scrambling. You look back at them, glancing to see that the person had ran away. Peko continues to stare at them. You can tell she's debating whether or not to follow.

❤ He isn't even an affectionate person in public. As much as he likes seeming badass and a rule breaker - breaking the rules is something that he hates doing.

❤ But still, when you're tired, or slumped from a long walk, he will put his arm around your waist or shoulder.

❤ Which, you have a theory that he likes it when people call him out. There, in that situation, he gets to prove that he's tough and that he doesn't take anyones shit.

❤ He keeps you away from any harm. And he especially keeps you away from witnessing any. He doesn't want you to see the things that he has to see.

❤ After a confrontation he will always ask if you are okay. He will be clueless on how to comfort you if you are not but he feels a genuine worry about having you in that scene.

❤ He forgets that that even happens to the two of you. His brain logs the situations as one of many - him proving himself successfully and not a sorrowful memory.

❤ So if you bring it up later just know that he is going to be very confused on what you mean.

❤ He doesn't consider them, no matter what they say about his sexuality, to be homophobic, rather annoying as all hell.

.

Gundham Tanaka

❤ Gundham believes that being attracted to men is another reason he is so powerful and god-like. He thinks of it as something outside of the normal and something that makes him more fluid than the average person. He remembers the tale of Amaterasu and Ame no Uzume no Mikoto - the sexual deviance of a same sex relationship. The way it was used to lure is vaguely similar to how he considers your relationship - you lured him in, enticing him with your wicked smile and the shade of your eyes. You are an incubus that was once unforeseeable and addictive. And now you are the one that lingers in his soul - a romantic partner. Someone with astral levels that match his own.

Teenage boys are the people that make Gundham nervous. You try not to consider where this fear would have originated from, although the answer seems rather obvious.

Whenever a group of teenage boys walks by he always closes his trench coat and loosens his shoulders when he quickly walks past. Common ardor ravagers he mutters under his breath. More often than that, outside of a few cackles there is nothing that comes about. No interaction and no public scene.

But in those rare moments where they do, Gundham will whip around, his coat flourishing behind him as he steps up to them.

"Be careful at who you direct your words. I can destroy the world in mere minutes; disintegrate the ground beneath your feet. Your conviction will be detrimental."

He had only begun to resort to such low threats when you told him to stop bringing up the four dark devas of destruction - putting in a lot of effort to inform him that their cute disguises are too genuine and the average person will not find them scary unless they showcase their true power (but please do not do that, Tanaka!).

Still, no one gives you as much trouble as teenage boys do. Just the way they snicker at him - it makes you feel horrible. You stand up for him when you can. Especially since he never seems to be in his usual passionate mood afterwards. He gets quiet.

❤ He likes retelling folk to you, changing the genders so that both of them are male. If you ask, really? they're both men? he will lie and say yes. The look of joy that flashes through your face is something that he will never get over - it's beautiful.

❤ He sometimes mentions the troubles that the two of you face - describing the homophobic things that others will say to him.

❤ You don't think he has ever realized that teenage boys put all their attention onto him rather than you.

❤ Thinking back on moments like those consistently reminds you to shower him in compliments. You make sure to remind him that he is loved every single day. You need him to know that.

❤ He is an incredibly affectionate person when he wants to be. On days where he is in a good mood he will return your kind words with some of his own, going on rambles about how powerful your aura is and how strong your soul is to be able to handle his cosmic energy so close to your natural body. You don't know what any of this means in his head but you take it as a compliment.

❤ He never gets violent. You always think he's going to swing and hit, but he never does. He just glares with his intense eyes before spinning and walking away, leaving you to trail behind him.

[cloneslugs]

.

i think if the GK came like right off the pages plucked into our world just as intended w no room for interpretation just like literally themselves real people straight from the source material then sugimoto wouldnt be homophobic bc hes too nice and also maybe doesnt know what gay people are so he doesnt really get it or comprehend it as something he can come across but he'd never say anything homophobic even unintentionally and if you asked him out he'd turn you down politely just bc hes nice he'd let you hold his hand and cry on his shoulder when you have your heart broken, asirpa also isn't homophobic but she doesnt give a shit at all but in the most like 😒 sense of the term but she doesnt care really it doesnt interest her, shiraishi is def friends w gay people but he also calls them faggots but not in a hateful way he just thinks it's okay for him to say but he doesnt really mean it affectionately either that's just what they are to him also he doesnt really get it but he doesnt care enough to think hard enough about it.. idk any other characters um i think tanigaki believes love is love and doesnt think you shpuld say faggot but he thinks it sometimes a lot i think he tries too hard to be an ally but in a way that's obvi hiding his repulsion every side character that's not on their side is homophobic for sure though

[illnessfaker]

[ cw: f-slur, rape mention ]

no reblogs pls. this is a long vent.

haha not to be a hysterical faggot crippled shut-in freak or anything but the way ppl talk abt the defensiveness around the f-slur that some gay/bi male users (and some transfem users) on here as if it's some kind superiority pissing contest thing and not primarily about...respecting the boundaries and experiences of those gay/bi male (and transfem) users. like...being on this site as a fag-adjacent person (i say that half-jokingly because it sounds silly on one hand but on the other that's the most accurate descriptor of my gender identity, lol) is becoming increasingly draining and upsetting with how "progressive" homophobia against gay/bi men is apparently becoming, like, a meme among lgbtq people and that's acceptable somehow bc lgbtq people aren't cishets or because it's "only online" and therefore doesn't matter.

like idgaf abt ppl who aren't gay/bi men (or transfem) using the f-slur in every single context possible. if they're affectionately referring to their gay/bi male (or transfem) friends with that word (so long as said friends are comfortable with it) that's one thing. who cares. i even rb'd something where a cis butch (iirc) lesbian was talking about a gay man she knew who she was affectionatly calling a faggot and the things she said warmed my heart. if they're throwing it around at every opportunity or using it as an edgy insult against random strangers on the internet, that's another. the users on here who do the latter also regularly display behavior that like...shows a pretty clear disdain for gay/bi men (or transfem ppl) not apart of their online or "irl" circlejerks and echo chambers, and that is in no way disconnected from their love of using the f-slur, lol.

the "it's only online and so it's unimportant uwu go outside" thing also really feels like such a spit in the face as someone who both lives in a rural area full of cishet white men with guns that might try to kill me if i walked out of the house in drag (not to mention i live with my bf and his family and his parents are homophobes themselves i'm sure), and is also someone with health issues that usually keep me at home and in bed when i'm not working. i didn't always live here but even in my hometown the only "lgbtq space" i had was the high school GSA which didn't do shit other than the day of silence and was attended by people i did not feel safe around (e.g. my ex-friend who was very emotionally manipulative and ended up raping someone.) i don't have any other lgbtq spaces to go to other than online ones. if i never joined tumblr i might still be a self-hating cishet girl, or i might be dead, who knows. like, i've accepted at this point that personhood isn't something i'm allowed in (outside of my whiteness) so fuck me i guess if we need to but the idea that other young, impressionable, and/or traumatized lgbtq people who only can meet other lgbtq people and learn about lgbtq things online for whatever reason don't deserve to have us make an effort on cultivating internet spaces that are as accessible and safe for them as possible, or that their experiences and feelings are somehow unimportant is just...vile. like ofc not everyone needs to "pander" to "logged on" disabled fags like myself maybe but if you have any kind of large following on social media maybe consider that the things you say and do on said social media have like...an actual effect on other people instead of pretending that it's "just online" and therefore consequences for your actions either don't matter enough (to you personally) or somehow don't exist.

but going back to the fag thing, most popular lgbtq tumblr users on my dash i see nowadays just...simply do not give a shit whatsoever about gay/bi men, to the point they're normalizing "progressive" and "acceptable" homphobia against us bc they've convinced themselves due to the bigotry some gay/bi men (often cis, white, and wealthy mind you) exhibit we are "the cishets of the lgbtq community," despite horrific violence still being committed against us every day and despite other lgbtq people being capable of engaging in that violence themselves. ppl make thinly veiled jokes and memes where the punchline is men having sex with each other or effeminacy as if those things aren't primary avenues for gay/bi men being abused, assaulted, and killed (including acts of abuse and assault of a sexually-driven nature), as if said jokes and memes don't serve to normalize the mentalities that drive homophobic hate crimes. it's not like...a coincidence that most lgbtq people who makes these jokes aren't gay/bi men (or transfem). this doesn't even get into how things like homophobia and anti-effeminacy can pretty much boot certain gay/bi men from manhood...or womanhood...or any place in gender altogether.

call me exlusionary if you want but i think it's fair to say that the chances of people who aren't gay/bi men (or transfem*) facing the repurcussions of those mentalities in any meaningful way, the chances of these people actually having lived as or going to live as "faggots" is any meaningful sense is slim to none, and that's why they're so comfortable participating in this shit, and that's why i'm triggered(tm) by them "reclaiming" faggot (which doesn't really involve reclamation bc calling random strangers on the internet or gay/bi men you hate a slur isn't reclamation you morons), because frankly if you're not apart of either of those groups, you're just not a fucking faggot. it's not your word just because some rando on overwatch called you it for picking hanzo in comp. period. end of story. it's also just extremely absurd to try and claim faggotry as something you experience while...readily and happily engaging in homophobia and fag-hate (which isn't synonymous with the former term but i'm talking abt ppl who probably seldom ever engage which discussions and theory surrounding how homophobia instrumentates itself in society - or at least that which doesn't conform to their worldview). within the gay/bi male community there's plentu of masc "straight-acting" gays who weaponize this shit against fem gays and they (should) get held accountable in the same way. you're not special.

and god, being told my gendered experiences as a fag-adjacent person where (white) cafab women are fully capable of engaging in social forms of "oppression" against me and other fags in undeniably gendered ways is somehow an outlier and therefore not reflective of broader social by (white) masc urbanite tbros with definitively more social standing than i'll ever have in my life, as if i somehow developed this understanding of gendered violence just based off my own life and not...the reported and sometimes even recorded experiences of countless other fags who get mocked and silenced because anything that deviates from a watered down, shoddy cis feminist take on gender is fake news(tm) or bordering on saying misandry exists (like no it doesn't exist but acting as if homophobic shit like anti-sodomy laws, for example, has zero to do with gay/bi men's manhood is just nonsensical). convos on here abt gender being mostly dominated by (white) cafab women or sometimes (white) masc trans guys is such a mistake lmao.

anyway i'm tired and stressed and pretty done with having "acceptable" homophobic shit shoved in my face on a daily basis both online and offline but nevertheless i must persist because i'm not lucky enough to have anywhere else to go, really. just...think critically abt ur actions regarding gay/bi male sexuality and gender-stuff pretty please. please.

( *disclaimer just in case that i definitely don't see transfems as some "type" of gay/bi men. there are transfems who identify with gay/bi manhood and/or faggotry. there are transfems who don't. that's entirely up to them. thank u. )

[verdemoun]

did the gang find out about macsummers in modern or canon times?

i have given up on answering asks in order i answer asks in order of the giggles they give me

the girlies of the gang all knew in canon era. karen, mary-beth, jenny, and tilly were all actively shipping them and directly responsible for sean realizing lenny was actually flirting with him. god knows if sean would have ever connected the dots in either era without them (to be fair lenny was flirting in that 19th century 'could be murdered in the street if he was outed' and spending adolescence in reform school did not help sean in learning how to understand subtext and contextual clues)

also please imagine lenny 19th century educated man flirting. thinking he's so smooth laying it on maybe a little too thick teaching sean to read starting with the happy prince, sean mentions it offhandedly to mary-beth who proceeds to choke on her coffee because She Knows

lenny and sean being together was such a core part of the quartet's dynamic that when lenny found jenny in modern era and said 'and sean's here too' jenny let out a sigh of relief because she was not putting up with lenny's lenny-ness on her own before going 'no oops that sounded fucked i'm super sad he died but also yay sean's here'

hosea is just side-eyeing them suspiciously for a few weeks because "HMM they seem awful co-dependent in a way i had not noticed in canon era. maybe it's trauma bonding? maybe they're clinging to their friendship more than they did in canon era to cope with oh god damn us all they're fucking aren't they"

bessie just tilts her head slightly in confusion "darling i know you were slightly distracted at the time but did you not see the way they embraced when they saw each other? i am almost certain this is not a new occurrence"

also shoutout to bessie who despite being a 50+ year old history lecturer who no one would expect to be in the know she very politely sat the boys (and her husband) down powerpoint presentation style to explain modern era queer lexicon like for the love of all that is holy please do not use the terms sodomite or pederast they have CHANGED MEANING (the term homosexuality wasn't considered popularized in america until 1906 like she would have had to explain... so much)

arthur was very confused because look he's a little behind the 8 ball at times and just assumed karen and sean + lenny and jenny would become things, moreso than actually taking issue with anyone's sexuality. they obviously all suffer from heteronormativity

and of course how much identities and terminology changed from 1999 to 2011 (when most of the gang got there) lenny spent a good two years unironically identifying as moronsexual

sean's dyslexic ass having to learn the acronyms he thought BLTs were gay sandwiches for weeks pray for him (he still calls them gay sandwiches in private and they are a staple of the macsummers household)

it took so long to get used to gay meaning queer instead of happy. still slip up and say they're feeling gay when someone asks how they're going then backpedaling wait no well yes but you didn't need to know that i Was in a great mood

most of the gang didn't really react - they ALL knew about hosea and dutch 'reading' in canon era so if it was going to be an issue it would have come up then. just 'oh cool good for you guys what the hell is with miniature moving picture box in the house are we rich'

bill was the only one who even questioned it? looking at all these same-sex couples discreetly wondering aloud if in the future it was the norm ('without' a hint of optimism in his voice) because i, the author, accidentally made them all very not cishet

maeve at the tender age of 4 looked this bear of a man in the eyes and called him a faggot (she picked it up from the gang using it affectionately)

bill had no idea what that meant but he did know it was something at his expense

[saintmariana]

Women have plenty to be ashamed of.

Growing up I was conflicted with a duality in which on the one hand there lied my nature and on the other the will of my mother. At the age of 16 my mother was homeless and desperate for anyone to come and save her torment; her mother was an abusive and neglectful heroin addict and it was around this time two of her brothers had sat in prison for having robbed banks (her eldest brother was busting cheeks-though he denies it). It was during such a trying time she had met my father who swept her in his arms that very day moving her to an entirely different state with him. My father was 21 during this time and an illegal immigrant from Mexico as were his siblings and other friends that had come with him, among his friends was Santiago.

My father had drunkenly cheated on my mother one night and immediately admitted it to my mother expressing his profound remorse: my mother responded with cheating on my father with Santiago-my father was heartbroken but understood and forgave her on the grounds she wouldn’t cheat on him again, unfortunately for the naïveté of my father my mother only used his cheating as a means to rationalize her feelings for Santiago which were already present within her before he had even cheated on her; my mother would not only go on to cheat on my father several more times with Santiago but had also professed her love for Santiago and her contempt for my father (note: my father is not one to be pitied, I simply empathize with him); what my mother hadn’t considered was that my father’s older brother was their boss, as in the boss of my father, his siblings and other friends they had immigrated with for a construction company: after hearing of Santiago’s betrayal of my father his brother had fired Santiago. Santiago moved back to Mexico where he shortly died after: my mother was heartbroken-what was she to do? A 16 year old little girl manipulating a man into breeding her, marrying him, and utilizing his resources which he earned with his blood? A little girl having lost who was perhaps her one true love? Or so she “thought”...

The divorce was ruthless, or rather, my mother was ruthless as she threatened to have my father and his siblings deported should he try to fight for custody. My father’s siblings encouraged my father to do what was necessary for us but with the possibility that he could also be deported and very likely never see his two sons again, what was a man to do?

It’s utterly damaging for the ego of any man to be emasculated by any woman especially a 21 year girl you truly believed to have loved and even having married after a hard life of poverty in a small town from Mexico where men are notorious for keeping their women in check. For a man’s ego to be damaged there is only one way he can redeem himself and that is through waging war on whomever dared to damage such an ego; unfortunately for my father he was not back in Mexico, he was in the US where the wrath of man is punishable with the means of prison-it was not only my mother by whom he was emasculated by but the law and order of the republic; so much for freedom of will.

It didn’t end here; my mother was ecstatic about her new found “liberation” going out to clubs and bars with her friends, free of the “religious fanatic” my father was (and it’s true that he is indeed a religious fanatic, a Christian to be exact, but don’t think so highly of my mother for she enforced and lived by the same values and morals as he does, she had merely done so with different spices and fragrances), it was also during this time she especially began drinking heavily, very heavily; there were days when she’d be slumped over her bed bottle hand whilst my father came for my brother and I only to be met with a locked door with no way in except for breaking and entering: my brother and I would beg for the embrace of our father through the window, crying for his affection and play, locking eyes with our father through the window; our mother didn’t care so long as she had us in her grasp, rationalizing her stupidity as her “living her youth,” as if enjoying your youth demands the abandonment of all responsibility.

My mother eventually met another man soon after my father, perhaps even during; he was a black man with a short fuse of a temper against us all, but even more so against my brother and I. This new man of hers would go on to physically beat my brother and I, tossing and dragging us across the room, beating us with a closed fist as he would a grown man; the beatings were so bad he’d send us back to our father with massive bruises all over our bodies, bruises our father would take pictures of in hopes it’d help his case in court-it didn’t. My father was enraged with my mother and demanded she leave the man but she stuck by his side until the end of kindergarten even going so far as to make a father of him-for my little sister.

Throughout the years my mother had done everything she could to erase the memory of all that had happened, laughing it all off as though it was nothing when we’d bring it up with her, often chalking it up to the folly of her youth-except it didn’t end there.

Shortly after my sister’s father she found another man who she married-this one was actually good but he was far bigger than my sister’s father and black all the same-I associated him with my sister’s father and despised him ruthlessly throughout their entire marriage: he was a genuinely caring and affectionate father despite our difference in blood, but it was too late by the time I embraced this of him. Towards the end of their marriage which went on from my first grade year to the summer before starting high school I grew closer with my then stepfather as my mother would often be gone for days off with her friends and her new lover; she had been cheating my step father for a year and a half before they had split apart: he was a younger Indian man whom she helped attain a green card.

This new boyfriend was also a good man at heart, but because he fell for my mother’s malice I despised him and though I wasn’t as ruthless with him as I was with my stepfather I still kept my distance; it was throughout this relationship my mother expressed her love more openly for him... there were nights when she’d shamelessly fuck him hard for all the neighborhood to hear as she moans, groaned, and cried his name, making the entire house shake-our rooms were right next to each other and I ruined all my friendships during this time so there was no friend to turn to then.

There came a day when people were warning the two of them they weren’t right for each other for whatever reason; my mother decided to say fuck them and so we all moved to another over night, back at her home state with her brother in his apartment with his son-his son was okay.

It was during this time I laid conscious witness to the wrath a woman is capable of, most notably my mother; this boyfriend of hers was not only more gentle natured but also an immigrant whom my mother helped attain a green card; my mother’s drinking increased ten fold, puking in the toilet every morning became a routine for them both; fucking for everyone to hear became the norm; my mother was extremely obnoxious I trying to be one of the guys during this time.

Over time my mother had progressed from mocking and humiliating her boyfriend in front of her brother to shaming his religion, his family, and his character (notice how she coaxed him into the distance from his family), to all out punching him in his sleep demanding that he go do the fucking laundry. We heard everything-how she’d slap, scratch, punch, call him a bitch, a faggot, a dumbass man-there were times she’d brag about being able to get any man she wants as men only care for one thing (she was beautiful in her youth but that has long since faded).

Eventually her boyfriend began working and when he had enough money he ditched her completely calling her at the greyhound station at midnight as he awaited his bus; my mother didn’t have a car to go fight him, she was powerless: she resorted to a low growl demanding that he come back to her, that he won’t leave her, that he can’t leave, that they were supposed to get married and have children, that he better get his fucking ass back her NOW!

He stood his ground and I admired him for it.

Throughout the weeks of her grief my mother my mother go through days drunkenly sobbing about wanting to slit her wrists and blaming us for it.

My mother eventually found a job and got an apartment for us all; she went back to drinking and seducing a man from work whom she had written poetry about (we read her diaries).

Eventually there came a day I had gotten kicked out of an alternative school for having slit my wrists; throughout a six month period I spoke with a therapist which she detested as I exposed the truth of her ways to therapist with her there in frustration of following her orders on pretending everything was fine so as to get back into the school but I didn’t care. I knew the school was done with me and I with them.

The following months were tense between us especially being 18 at the time and seemingly doing nothing with my life except for wallowing in self pity (it’s true, I was).

Eventually the tension amounted to us having a massive argument, the neighbors below were terrified and called the police, my mother called her brother to come over and kick my ass, I was arrested for disturbing the peace and after having made the dumb decision to plead not guilty I was finally released after nine from the help of one of the fellow inmates.

The world did not look the same, I felt lost, I felt pathetic, I didn’t know what to do or where to go, what was I doing with my life? Why am I doing this to myself? It was only worse after having walked back home only to find all my belongings were tossed to the wayside in sake of their leisure.

I broke down and contemplated suicide over and over again until I had finally called the hotline for my therapist; they invited me over and I spoke with a couple women who assured me they’d let my therapist know of everything going and if there was any way they could help, I decided I’d be fine and that I’d come in the next day.

My mother and I argued that night: at this point I thought “fuck it, I’m done letting anyone walk over me again: I’m not taking their shit anymore even if it costs me my life.” My mother demanded I leave, I refused, she called her brother to come kick my ass; after sometime she packed up with my sister and left, picking up my brother from his job along the way. After a few hours I heard a knock, I crept my way to the peep hole to find a hand covering my view; I could hear from the creeking in the stairs that there was more than one other person there, most likely their little brother. They’d knock for a few minutes and then kick the door before leaving, doing this throughout the entire night; I sat in the kitchen with all the lights off crying to myself how done I am with them, how ready I am to fight back as hard as I ever have should they break through the door. I knew as soon as I opened the door my uncle would have beat and raped me though not kill me, I knew he’d easily over power me but I wasn’t going down without a fight.

The next day comes and I decide to hell with them all; I leave the city never to look back.

It didn’t help that throughout this time my girlfriend at the time had disappeared due to a bout of her own sorrow, I didn’t ever think she’d come back.

I was far more dominant in my youth especially with a cousin I had fallen in love with (the love was mutual) but by the time I had fallen with my girlfriend whom I would be with for three years from the age of 18 to 20 I had become notably softer in my handling of women-this was compounded when I was slapped with the reality of the real world, the world I had been sheltered from all my life, for much of it anyway.

I was afraid of falling behind so I worked the first job I could at some restaurant dwelling in petty quarrels.

I believed the only way to survive was conforming to their ways, your ways, the way of the corporate state; I was lost and only knew I had too much potential to squander but no understanding in how to guide it.

The relationship between myself and my then girlfriend was intimate and affectionate; she eventually came back and I forgave her unconditionally; we were a long distance couple and after a couple years of saving (piss poor spending habits on my behalf) I finally journey across the country to meet with her for the first and it was more amazing than I anticipated it could be; meeting her truly cemented in me the belief (or the knowledge) that a soulmate truly does exist, that some things truly are meant to be.

Later that year it turns out she’s turned out (she’s gay); it wasn’t a revelation she was willing to share with me openly; she was still processing her sexuality (she’s lived in repression which was only compounded with her eating disorder, purging), but I wanted answers so I coaxed it out of her; she didn’t cheat on me but she had a crush which she em felt excruciating guilt for as her crush was her brother’s girlfriend. I was understanding and forgiving but even so I was conflicted with feelings of cuckoldry and inadequacy as I felt a failure of a man for having been so naive as to have turned a blind eye to many of the signs which had vied for my attention before (she was never into having sex with me, always only saw me as cute, wasn’t really attracted to other men, tried getting me to break up with her after expressing remorse for having flirted with another man, and reacted with hot excitement after showing her a picture of the cousin I had fallen in love with.)

I’ve regretted it ever since but I pushed her away for the sake of my pride.

She truly did love me, she truly was a lover in spirit and I’ve ruined it.

I had reached out to her several months later with a letter but she never responded; I don’t blame her, she deserves more than a flimsy-hurried letter.

I believed that pushing her away in favor of my family was what I needed; I believed that I could heal my family, that could make us whole, that I could help us all become more than what we are, that we can overcome this together as a family, but I was wrong, I was so wrong.

I played the forgiving role, sweeping everything under the rug with them at first; but that didn’t sit well with me. I didn’t want any of us walking on egg shells around each other and I certainly didn’t want us living in denial of all that had happened.

There came a day when I wanted to express my rage and I wanted them to listen; my mother was defensive and my father was offended; I decided to hell with them both and so it’s been that ever since.

I know not every woman is like this, but what are the odds in finding another woman-my “ideal” woman? It is foolish to impose ideals upon others and especially myself, ideals are for the naive. Much of the women who could be considered my type are usually in the mind of a safe, corporate life with a salary and college education: I despise the corporate state and especially the education system which is no place for knowledge but only doctrines: my passions and ambitions are too barbarous for these women and the odds of finding someone like my last girlfriend are quite slim, she truly was exceptional (there’s also the fact that gay and straight women are fundamentally different, it’s a difference I find shocking and painful but true nevertheless, straight women are far more shallow than the gays); I’ve tried to date around, I’ve met and gotten to know people-the amount of people only interested in casual sex is mighty disheartening as I very much desire a strong and committed relationship in which we grow with each other but it becomes ever more clear that the only thing straight women care for is their submission to power: they truly do not care for anything else of a man unless he’s able to dominate them and make them his slut: in every woman is a slave and a tyrant; give her liberty and she will tyrannize you; make her submit and she is yours. The only women who claim to admire depth in a man only do so because the man in question is in truth just an illusion of a fever dream as he’s yet to embrace his own sacred masculinity-those “men” they desire are no men at all but the Frankensteins of a civilization in decay.

I will not live as a lecher as I value the soil and the body lest I enable and contribute to the degeneracy.

I’ve decided to embrace my chastity; I don’t know if the key will ever be found by another, another worthy of the key, perhaps I will, perhaps I won’t, but I know the path of degeneracy is no path for me; but what of the men? Will they not look down upon me? I will force my will upon them.

[ashfountainfanfics]

It’s weird to be squatting in the Byers’ empty house. It feels too big and hollow. Steve hadn’t been in it often enough to remember the layout but there’s the ghosts of furniture past etched into the carpet. It’s weird to think that a family lived here; that they had normal Christmases and birthdays. That they ate breakfasts and played music. Now there’s nothing but indents and faded spots.

 Steve and Billy mostly stay in the living room camped out in a nest of stray blankets and a couple pillows. It feels the least invasive of their options. A cooler sits nearby but Steve already knows that the sodas and snacks in it are probably lukewarm by now.

Steve rolls over to his left to look at Billy. The poor guy has a sheen of sweat across his whole body and his hair is flat. Still, Steve fights the urge to curl up with him. It’s impossible to keep physical contact up in this heat and Hawkins won’t really cool down until mid October. Not that they can stay here much longer.

Steve hears movements in the other room. He quickly scrambles to put some distance between himself and Billy. The rug scratches at his knees and he briefly says a prayer that Billy isn’t naked under that sheet he’s wrapped himself in.

Dustin appears in the living room through one of the bedroom doors. The sound from earlier had been him climbing into the window and hauling snacks and other provisions with him. Steve mentally berates himself again for breaking Joyce’s window a few days ago but he wasn’t entirely sure of where else to go.

“Henderson,” Steve attempts a greeting but his throat is dry.

Dustin picks up on this and pulls out a large thermos. Steve tries not to guzzle down all of the cold water in one go but half ends up sacrificed to his thirst.

“It’s okay,” Dustin lets him know quietly, “I brought another one for... him.”

Dustin doesn’t seem too pleased about bringing anything for Billy if the avoidance of his name is any indication. Billy snores a little and flips onto his back. Steve doesn’t realize that he’s smiling until he notices that Dustin’s caught him.

“You don’t have to do that,” Dustin says, irritated, as he turns to pack food and drinks into the cooler.

Steve feels a flush come up to his cheeks and it’s not just the morning heat. It’s not possible that Dustin knows right? El swore to secrecy and Steve hadn’t even hinted at anything. It’s not that he doesn’t want to tell Dustin or maybe it is. It’s not reassuring to come out to anyone about this when Steve’s own parents gave him the boot over it.

“Do what?” Steve asks, immediately regretting it.

Dustin closes the lid on the cooler and looks Steve square in the eye. His lip line is tight, still irritated. Steve feels like he’s about to lose a friend, a sibling even. Dustin’s the little brother he never had and to have that family reject him too somehow hurts more. He chose Dustin and Steve’s praying that Dustin chooses him back right now.

“You two sleep together. In summer. You’re staying together and he’s not hurt anymore. You look at him like you looked at Nancy and even Robin sometimes. I’m not dumb! Stop treating me like I’m dumb!”

Billy stirs a bit at the outburst but manages to quickly fall back asleep. Dustin’s not really yelling so much as raising his voice a bit. Steve feels like Dustin is yelling, feels like he’s screaming.

“You’re not dumb,” Steve is talking in a panic, no filter, “you are the smartest kid- smartest person I’ve ever known.”

“Then why are you trying to hide it?”

“Because- because people might-“

“From me! Why are you trying to hide it from me?!”

Billy does wake up this time. He peers sleepily at Steve and Dustin. He groans and sits up on the floor.

“I’m guessing curly top figured us out?” Billy asks Steve while Steve still sits five feet away and dumbstruck.

“Days ago,” Dustin says through gritted teeth, “and my name is Dustin.”

Billy’s eyebrow ticks up in consideration of this child and how he’s holding his ground. Steve feels like he should intervene but there aren’t any words in his mouth. He’s just sitting on the floor completely stupid and silent.

“You got a problem then?” Billy challenges.

“Yeah I do.”

Steve braces himself for the worst. He can hear Dustin’s voice in his head saying terrible things; calling him a faggot and a queer. He tries to shield himself against the thought of cutting ties, of never seeing little mop top Henderson again. Briefly he debates saying this is all a joke and he’s not gay or anything but Dustin’s not stupid. Lying would make it worse. He’s going to make his choice and Steve is going to have to deal with losing someone important.

“Why you?” Dustin asks, “You tried to hurt us way before The Mind Flayer got to you. Your sister had to beat the snot out of you just to get you away from us! You’re a jerk and an asshole and you’re one of the bad guys!”

Dustin directs himself to Steve not allowing Billy the opportunity to defend himself.

“You’re one of the good guys!” Dustin says, his voice cracking, “You’re my friend and you save people. This guy beat you up, remember? He tried to kill us! Good guys don’t date assholes!”

Steve tries to process to the best of his ability but given the expectations he had it isn’t easy. He notices that Billy looks amused at all this but that doesn’t help. Steve stands to his feet.

“Wait… wait so-“ Steve’s brain posits his conclusion, “your problem is that Billy’s an asshole?”

“Yeah!”

“Not because he’s...a guy?”

“No!”

Dustin looks like he wants to throw something at Steve because he’s being stupid but he doesn’t. Steve starts to laugh and mutters the word ‘unbelievable’ to himself. The laughter suddenly turns into crying and Steve can’t stop it.

Billy’s at Steve’s side now and he notices that he’s not naked as he had feared earlier and thank God for that. Steve hides his face behind his hands because crying is embarrassing. He didn’t realize how mortifying it is to cry like this.

“Hey, hey no,” Billy says firmly and pulls his hands down.

Billy cradles Steve’s face and wipes away the tears with his thumbs. He rests his head against Steve’s. His attempts to speak soothingly come out as more of a gruff, hushed tone. It’s still works for Steve though and he leans into being comforted.

“It’s my turn, okay?” Billy reassures him as best as he can, “Don’t hold back. Fuck it.”

“Steve?” Dustin asks quietly.

“Hey you did enough you little-“ Billy turns, teeth bared and ready to fight a child.

“No,” Steve stops Billy from turning his fury on Dustin, “it’s happy crying. It’s good. I’m fine. I didn’t know happy crying exists but I’m- I’m good.”

Steve takes a deep breath and gives Billy’s hand a squeeze before stepping back. He smiles at Dustin cautiously.

“So the being a queer part,” he clarified, “it doesn't bother you?”

Dustin smiles.

“Do you know how many times me and my friends have been called queer? Or toothless or fat or dorky? If I thought any of those things were bad those assholes would have gotten to me. I told you; high school shit is stupid.”

“You really are the smartest person I know.” 

Steve crosses the room and gives Dustin a hug. He pats his back and Dustin pats in return. Steve’s can’t believe how brilliant and caring this kid is. He pulls back and chuckles.

“We’re family,” Dustin says before glancing quickly at Billy, “I still think he’s an asshole though.”

“He’s working on it. I used to be the asshole boyfriend remember? Now look at me.”

“You look like you need a tissue.”

Steve laughs and wipes his nose with the collar of his shirt. He then ruffles Dustin’s hair and Dustin grimaces.

“You smell like you need a shower,” Dustin points out, backing away.

“We’re, uh, kind of camping so,” Steve shrugs.

“We’re squatting,” Billy corrects him.

“Either way,” Steve sends minor eye daggers to Billy, “it doesn’t come with showers. Think you could help us find one?”

—-

Steve quietly thanks God for the cool air blasting in the video store. He’s also thankful that Mrs Henderson attends Bible study on Tuesday mornings because her convenient absence allowed for Steve and Billy some much needed hygiene at her home.

Steve’s also grateful his parents let him take one of the cars. Of course they wanted him off the property as quickly as possible so it made sense to gift him a getaway vehicle. That night was tough and Steve doesn’t like to think about it too much. He can still remember when his dad came too and his mother sobbing that they smelled like sex. It’s a good thing Billy had knocked out Steve’s father already because the man looked like he was ready to kill Steve right then and there if Billy wasn’t there to stop him.

“Hey dingus,” Robin calls out affectionately, “you feel like having a scary movie night sometime soon? I’m sure my dad would be thrilled to see me bring a boy home.”

She’s been caught up already. Steve had called her that night before heading out. The last thing he wanted was for her to show up for a pre work swim and have to confront the very irate Mr and Mrs Harrington. Steve knows that the movie offer is more a means to give him temporary refuge than a social call but he appreciates the effort.

“How would your dad feel about bringing home two boys?” Steve asks flatly.

Robin’s shelving tapes while Steve mans the front but other than the two of them there isn’t a soul in sight.

“Right,” she says, “can’t forget about your grumpy other half.”

It puts Steve on edge to talk about it in public spaces despite knowing they’re in the clear. He checks the store over just in case and then rests his gaze on the door. There’s a bell on it so really the staring isn’t necessary but Steve’s not taking any chances.

“He’s not grumpy he’s-“

“Stoic? Reserved?” Robin offers as she audibly rummages through her box of tapes, “Butch?”

Steve rolls his eyes and doesn’t give her the satisfaction of an answer. She comes around the counter and hops up to take a seat.

“Relax,” Robin stretches her arms up high, “I like your boy toy. I swear.”

“Shouldn’t you finish off that box?”

“You know the manager and I are cool. Besides I can always blame you.”

She lays backwards and dangles her torso off the counter. Her back pops and Steve shudders.

“Okay, enough,” he leaves the counter and heads for the box of tapes, “I’ll do it. And stop dicking around on the counter, you’ll get hurt.”

“Sure thing, dad,” Robin hops down and follows Steve, “Are you okay? Seriously. You seem like you’re having a bad day.”

It shouldn’t be a bad day. Steve got a shower and a Snickers for breakfast. Dustin accepts him in his newfound gay identity. Billy has an interview down at the garage. This is a good day, isn’t it?

“I’m sorry,” Steve sighs, “I guess I’m not looking forward to going back to that sweat box I’m squatting at. No power, no water. It’s awful.”

Robin gets unnaturally quiet but Steve doesn’t stop going through the second half of the box. He comes across a copy of Star Wars: Return of the Jedi. It’s a movie he’s never actually seen and he doubts Billy has either. It looks like it would be right up Dustin’s alley and it’s probably something Robin’s seen. He rummages for any other titles starting with an ‘s’.

“What are you and Billy going to do?” Robin asks solemnly as Steve makes his way to the right shelf with a stack of video tapes.

“I… I don’t know.”

There’s a greater context to that and Steve is horrified as he slowly sinks into it. This is what they’re doing now but where will they go next? For how long? It’s not common to see two guys living together and really what would be their excuse? They couldn’t pass for brothers and the mere thought of posing as such makes Steve feel a bit grossed out. They’re boyfriends not relatives but they can’t get caught.

“I think I know why I’m having a bad day,” Steve shoves the rest of the tapes on the shelf, damning any sense of alphabetical order.

Steve walks past the box, past the counter and Robin, and right up to the door. He doesn’t understand what he’s doing but can’t stop. Robin looks bewildered as Steve holds open the door to the afternoon heat. He pauses there and lets the warm air graze his cheeks. He breathes it in and it’s almost suffocating.

“Steve?”

“I’m sorry. I have to- I’m sorry,” Steve manages to apologize before taking off down the street at a brisk pace. The heat immediately clings to his body and it makes him move faster. He’s headed toward the center of town but his mind has no true destination. It’s as if his body thinks that if he keeps moving then eventually everything will feel lighter.

“Wait! Steve! Steve!”

Robin sidles up to Steve’s pace after a minute or two. The keys to the video rental store are jingling her hand. He glances at her in utter confusion but doesn’t stop. He isn’t exactly expecting a copilot on this miniature breakdown.

“I am a band nerd, you ass, we don’t run!” She berates him with a light slap on the shoulder.

This doesn’t phase him and he continues his walk at the same speed. They’ve gone about a block and a half away from the store. Out in the day to day of Hawkins only the elderly, a few housewives, and a pack of kids ditching are running about. None of them have the slightest idea of what’s going on in Steve’s head and he supposes that means he’s in good company. They move quickly and quietly out of his way.

“Where are we going?” Robin demands fiercely.

“I don’t know!” Steve shouts back at her and breaks his stride, “I don’t know where I’m going and where we are going or where anything is going! I don’t know!”

Steve’s breathing is rapid and heavy. He looks down at his hands and sees that they’re shaking. It’s not fear or anger that’s fueling him. He can’t name what it is but it feels a lot like when you’re squaring off against a monster or running for your life. Robin looks him over with a sense of unease plainly on her face. She takes one of his shaking hands and laces her fingers into it.

“Whaaa-”

But Steve doesn’t get to finish his question because Robin starts walking again. She pulls him behind her but Steve quickly adjusts and starts moving with her. His hands aren’t shaking now and his heartbeat starts to even out. He tries to question Robin again. 

“Where are we-“

“You’ll find out.”

“What about the store?”

“I’ve abandoned a job before, haven’t you?” Robin is teasing but her voice stays serious and she keeps moving.

It occurs to Steve that they’ve got a perfectly good car waiting for them back at their job but it’s too late now. Robin’s in charge of this break down and she leads him to Hawkins high and then past Hawkins high to where the trees start up again. Steve still can’t tell where this journey is going but he respectfully follows in silence. Robin takes very determined steps through the grass and small patches of fallen leaves until they come upon a massive tree and she stops. She lets go of Steve’s hand and looks at the tree with a sense of reverence.

“Climb,” she instructs Steve.

“What? Climb? Seriously?”

Robin doesn’t offer any further explanation as she’s already pulling herself up on the branches. She moves in a way that can only be described as precise. Steve mimicks her movements as best as he can but tree climbing doesn’t come naturally to him. He lags behind by a minute and pulls himself onto a large branch adjacent to the one Robin’s selected as her perch.

“Okay, I climbed, now what the fuck are we doing?”

Steve tries not to awkwardly straddle the branch. He attempts to bring both legs to one side almost like riding side saddle but decides there’s more dignity in straddling. He presses his back to the trunk of the tree. The bark is itchy but the shade keeps everything cool.

“All settled?” Robin asks sarcastically.

“As I’ll ever be,” Steve laments.

“Good, now just shut up and listen, okay?”

Robin takes a deep breath to prepare herself. Steve feels like maybe he shouldn’t be looking at her. The mood seems rather intimate and it isn’t like when she came out about herself before. There were drugs and blood then. The situation deemed a sense of vulnerability but here things feel more personal, more deliberate. Steve looks out over the town of Hawkins and really takes in the view he’s been gifted. Robin stares out as well and speaks softly, just barely loud enough to be heard by Steve.

“Tammy never loved me and she was never going to love me no matter how in love with her I was but that didn’t stop me from dreaming. I used to come up here and think about how beautiful things looked if you could just manage to put yourself above all the bull shit.

I liked to pretend that someday I’d bring her up here and then she’d understand almost like it was magic and she’d kiss me and I’d kiss her. It could all fall in place if I could just have a sign, if I could only be that brave.

But it didn’t.

And the more time I spent here the more I realized that even if Tammy felt the same way as I did, what the fuck would that mean for us? I could never take her to the movies or go to dinner. I couldn’t take her to prom. Do you know how beautiful she was at junior prom? I saw her in passing; she was getting into Kevin Laney’s car and- God, I never thought I’d ever want to be my neighbor Kevin Laney but I would have sold my soul to switch places with him for just that night, even just for a minute, so I could tell her that she’s beautiful.

I don’t have anywhere to go either whether I ever have someone or not-”

“You will,” Steve interrupts, “Robin, you are the most amazing girl in the world. If we weren’t- you know I’d-”

“I know. It’s not about that though. You’re lucky in a way; you found someone who’s like you and, sure, he’s kind of emotionally stunted and prickly but he loves you. That doesn’t make the logistics of being this way any easier. You’re actually way more likely to get found out but at least… at least you’re not alone.”

Steve doesn’t have anything to say to that. His experience in being interested in the same sex is so different from Robin’s to the point that there isn’t much to relate to. Steve’s realization was sudden and surprising whereas Robin’s was a secret she’s been sitting on for God knows how long. Steve’s in a relationship and has been in other relationships and Robin’s never been in one at all, gay or otherwise. Even the sexuality itself is different; Robin only likes women and Steve likes, well, Steve likes women and Billy and that’s all he knows right now.

“I’d give anything not to feel alone,” Robin swipes her the back of her hand across her nose to stifle a sniffle.

“You’re not alone,” Steve replies quietly, “I know I’m not- I know I can’t change how things are but we’re friends and I won’t leave you. Okay? Does that help?”

“Sure, dingus.”

She smiles at him and tosses a leaf. It floats down to the ground slowly and when Robin looks back up the light through the trees hits her features just right. Steve knows that he’d die for her because she’s beautiful and smart and brave. More than that, he’ll find a way to help her be happy because if anyone deserves to be happy it’s her.

“Y’know, there has to be other girls who like girls,” Steve says.

“Well they’re not in Hawkins that’s for sure.”

“So then let’s leave Hawkins.”

Robin rolls her eyes.

“Oh yeah, sure, let’s just leave!”

Steve listens to his own throw away comment and he lights up. His body seems to jolt with new energy, good energy.

“Why not? Yeah. Let’s leave! There has got to be somewhere out there where Billy and I can be ourselves and where you can find a girlfriend! I mean what’s the gayest place you can think of?”

“Steve, I don’t think that’s advertised in a travel brochure.”

“Okay but there has to be somewhere where it’s easier. We just have to think! And you, you’re good at research and stuff! We’ll just leave! You and me and Billy! You pick a place and Billy and I will save the money and we’ll go!”

Robin turns to face her whole body toward Steve. Her hand on the trunk keeps her steady. Steve is smiling and so satisfied with his idea. It’s so simple he wonders why he hadn’t thought of it earlier.

“You really mean it.”

“Hell yeah! Who says we have to stay in Hawkins? Let’s go.”

Robin is quiet while she thinks it over. A short distance away, Steve can hear the sound of his former high school. Technically Robin has another year there but she’s so far ahead in her classes that her senior year mostly consists of like three classes and band if Steve remembers right. He could save loads of money in a single school year and with Billy saving too they could probably buy a house in this idealized version of Gay, USA. Granted there’s still the matter of where to stay in the meantime but that’s small potatoes as far as Steve’s concerned. He has a plan and it’ll work. It has to work.

“Okay,” Robin says, “After I graduate, I’ll go. We’ll all go.”

“Yes!” Steve throws a fist in the air and loses his balance.

It isn’t until Steve hits the ground that he realizes that the same hand he’d just gestured with is now broken.