#anyway yeah faggot behavior !!!

[urmomsfavelesbian]

ty for the tag @snowflakenali i love new and exciting variations of song-based tumblr tag games :D

tagging @polychromeedge @dayabot @that-art-hoe so basically everyone i know in the world !!!

[loving-family-poll]

has the "you have not seen riverdale" anon SEEN SUCCESSION?? put some RESPECT on those fags. as was previously mentioned, they are. the center of the narrative, from s1 ep1. like. this old man is obsessed with keeping his little fuckass son in complete subjigation at his feet (constantly berating him for not being strong enough to be an equal) and said son is constantly fluctuating between wanting to protect his dad (who is. like. a monster. and everyone knows that) and crucify himself in his honor and wanting to KILL HIM. I literally start to black out and writing a full fucking novel on the topic every time I try sending this ask so here is just like. a short list of things logan has done, in canon:

- played "games" with names like "The Strap", "Punch Chess" and "Dinner For Winners". kendall largely does not remember those games until he is explicitly reminded about them

- triggered a relapse in his son with a history of extreme addiction issues

- covered up vehicular manslaughter kendall commited with explicit purpose of making kendall his bitch

- as propaganda mentioned, talks to all of kendall's romantic interests like a high-school mean girl

- tries to get his son to take the blame for systematic sexual abuse that happened in his company and was. perpetuated by him and his friends. like when a character asks logan directly if he personally has ever Done This logan just fucking. smiles mysteriously.

- when kendall Doesn't go to jail for this (and tries to kill him again) sends him a proposition to "cash out and leave". when kendall tells him he wants to cash out and leave logan says "no <3. I want ypu close. also you are a faggot". expectedly that makes kendall attempt suicide immediately

- slightly off topic but during that convo logan both assumes that kendall would poison his food and tries to check if he did by feeding some of it to his grandchild (kendall's son). normal old man behavior

I feel I must clarify for the sake of non-succession watchers that when people say kendall tries to kill logan they mean it figuratively. He tries to business-kill logan. Anyway yeah its nuts

[rotationalsymmetry]

Here's the thing: the mindset we're working against here has two basic categories: acceptable people, and not-really-people. Visibly homeless people get seen as not-really-people. Certain types of disbled people get seen as not-really-people, hence "oh but maybe if there aren't enough ventilators we can just let those people die, maybe?"

And not all disabled people automatically get seen as not-really-people and can want to distance themselves from the not-really-people because you don't want to get shifted categories by association. But the problem is, you only get acceptable person status under that fucked up worldview to the extent that you can present as not that disabled. You don't need accommodations. You don't need support. You don't need anyone to think about how you're disabled and adjust their behavior accordingly.

It's better to stand together and say that there are no not-really-people, there are no acceptable-people, there's just people with a variety of circumstances and needs and abilities and all of us have a right to existence and as much comfort as society can offer us.

Anyways I think I just recreated Spider's Pete Buttigieg is a faggot post, but yeah, that's what it is. Stand with the people you think are too much, or be defenseless against the people who see you as too much.

Solidarity.

[barin-mclegg]

Whatever, one more time.

This is not about Gaza specifically. This is not about anyone specifically. "Help two trans women pay rent" is also 'fundraiser or whatever" territory. I do not see how that makes me racist

I'm not actively stating anyone should die, that I don't pay to any charities, that my life is miserable, that I won't ever reblog. I could just as well be funding half of an orphanage in Kenia, or donating to a local homeless shelter, etc etc. You'll never know, because that classifies as private information, and you're mostly assholes that don't deserve jackshit from me.

I specifically said that I don't want people to send them to me. Personally. So, put them in my messages, in my asks (not relevant bc my ask box is permanently broken, but the point), don't tag me specifically. For two of those 3, you need to specifically go to my blog anyway. So this is the best way to make it clear it won't do anything but waste both of our time and energy. I think this is the most respectful way of making that clear.

Yeah it causes me stress to see fundraisers of all kinds in the wild. Whatever. Your blog, your business. I just don't interact, if there's a tag I block it, I just don't want to be there. Again, I think this is the most respectful way of dealing with it.

My personal situation, mental and physical health, exact fucking age (menta or physical), and all that buzz, is none of your business. Fuck right off. Any judgements made about me when I was being actively harassed and getting torture threats, death threats, and suicide baiting is NOT ACCURATE. Wanna guess why? That's right! Emotionally distressing situations have impact on someone's behavior and wellbeing! If you've harassed me, you're the bad person here. I don't care, yes you are.

I DO care. Again, emotionally distressing situation. I said more shit I don't mean, or at least not in the way that it'll be read by, again, people that don't KNOW OR UNDERSTAND ME. I care that bad shit happens in the world, but I can't do shit about it, so I mostly choose not to talk about it or educate myself. This also means I have no opinion on said subjects, because I'm not a fucking dickhead about not knowing things, like most of you.

Yes, my shittiness at communicating IS part of my disability. "ohh disbaility can't do that" Ohhhh so if you can decide why people can't do shit than maybe you should decide that everyone should have a cool life and be a reasonable person, huh? Shut up. You're just a big bitch, at this point. Yes, it's disability, yes, I'm diagnosed, no, you can't fucking know anything more than that. Or are you going to tell my your full medical history and home address? And proof that you're not making shit up? Because then we can talk about the terms of me telling you anything about myself.

To the reasonable people: I greatly appreciate how unhatable you are.

To everyone in general: I, too, am reasonable when not being actively attacked. Try talking to me now. Actually, don't I'm glad for the silence. Also, don't call me a faggot, we're not buddies, you don't get slur rights.

I in no way see how what happened between me and 3000s on the eel post is YOUR business. Most of you are just miserable drama chasers, and I think that's way sadder than curating your internet experience to your best efforts. Go smash some plates or jerk off or something, jesus christ. "Ohhh but I'm traumatized/in an abusive situation/whatever I can't do thattt" Oh my god that's the funniest response anyone could ever give to this. Ohhh god. That's so funny. Ah well, I can only dream, since reblogs are going off again as soon as I hit reblog on this. If your response is something like that do actually send it though it's sooo funny.

Have a reasonably alright day. I know that's what I'm doing, at least.

Don't send fundraisers or whatever to me.

[disquiet-dream]

Actually, now what I think about it, prev reblog is probably why I roll my eyes hard at the like, "Japanese writers keep writing extremely transfem characters and then not having them call themselves trans"?

(Long ramble below, also read prev reblog first I think)

Well, not the whole reason. There's also the part where "Japanese people [negative thing X] all the time!" is you know. Usually racist.

But even that aside, like... When we're talking about characters who are definitely amab, present feminine, are often treated as in some way separate from both the male and female csst members...

I dunno, seems pretty transfeminized to me! And so it feels like arguing over whether they have to turn to the camera and go "I Am A Trans Woman" to "count" is just... Not something I can bring myself to care about, and while I respect that others do it just feels silly to make a big deal of them not using specific identity terms.

And I mean, part of this is also that these archetypes are like, usually (not always) treated reasonably kindly? Not necessarily the most nuanced portrayal of gender and often there will be some uncomfortable shit, but like, ime usually overall treated as "good if kinda weird" rather than "disgusting and evil". Which is nice!

(This is of course not to pretend there's never transmisogyny going on here. Like even if we pretend - and it would be pretending, because it's wrong - there's never a transmisogynistic element to these characters...

There's also much more directly bigoted "man in a dress" archetypes quite frequently - although certainly no more than are in Western media, to be clear.

And like, there's even shittiness in how they're divided: Ones who pass well, regardless of how they identify, get to be treated as weird but harmless. Characters that do not are jokes at best and degenerate perverts at worst.

Which you know. Does suck!)

Anyway, yeah. Just something I'm thinking about again. Because like, even when I had a much worse theoretical framework and vocabulary on the subject, I did broadly hold this view. Kind of always been on the "if they are going to treat someone like a tranny faggot regardless it's really not worth spending all of your time splitting hairs here." train.

(I consider this distinct from the like, "it's bad to say tme because everyone is affected by transmisogyny!" argument because like...

To put it in oversimplified terms:

I think if e.g. a cis butch woman is identified as a trans woman and discriminated against then that's a misidentification and so meaningfully distinct - although, to be clear, homophobia and misogyny are you know, still very real and almost certainly something this person deals with (+ often other forms of transphobia as well) - in how it impacts their life.

While if e.g. a self identified crossdresser is identified as a trans woman and discriminated against then, well, in a sense I don't consider that a misidentification at all! They have correctly been assessed as "amab person who is presenting too femininely and must be punished for doing so". And like, obviously the exact manifestation is different and in many cases significantly less severe, but I'm not sure what you would call the force that punishes that kind of behavior if not transmisogyny!)

[rickywritesstuff]

less than a friend - bill s preston esq x ted theodore logan

warnings: mentions of homophobia, mentions of abuse, f slur

desc: Ted is acting strange, and Bill intends to find out why, but Ted won't even look at him. When Ted finally talks to Bill, he reveals he doesn't want to be friends anymore.

The first couple of times, Bill had convinced himself Ted simply hadn't heard him. He grew more concerned, however, when he noticed Ted look at him and still avoid him. Had he done something? Ted would tell him if he did, right?

When Bill saw Ted getting things from his locker, he fully intended to keep on walking; he was clearly too occupied to talk to Bill, and if he wanted to talk to him, he would do so. That was the plan until he caught a clear glimpse of a bruise on Ted's arm.

"Ted?" Ted flinched, clearly able to hear Bill, but didn't move in his direction. "Please don't ignore me, Ted." He spoke quietly. He noticed Ted's busted lip, which wasn't noticable earlier because Ted's face had been hidden behind his hair. "Did you get hurt, Ted?"

The halls had begun to clear out as the bell rang. Ted took a breath. He didn't want to do this. But he had to for the both of them, right?

"We should talk, Bill," Ted stated in a way that told Bill something was very, very wrong.

Bill nodded, waiting for Ted to continue. When he didn't, Bill asked, "What is it, Ted?"

Ted hid his face behind his hair again. He could feel how fast his heart was beating. He didn't want to do this. He wished he didn't have to. But his dad would kill him if he didn't.

"Bill, I don't-" Ted could feel the tears threatening to come up, heard his voice crack, and cleared his throat. "I-I think we sh-should- stop being, uh- stop being friends." He paused to let the both of them process what he had just said. "The bands over, too, Bill. I'll come over later to get my stuff."

Bill stared at Ted, dumbfounded. "What?"

"I'm sorry, Bill. It's not your fault, I just- it's better this way, y'know?" Ted half-lied. He really wasn't sure if this was better or worse.

"Y-you- Ted-" Bill fought back the tears he knew would come up sooner or later. He felt his heart sink. Was he joking? He didn't look like he was joking. Ted wouldn't make this kind of joke, anyways. Bill wished he could get one single coherent thought out of his mouth.

"I'm sorry, Bill. It's not your fault, really." Ted began to turn around, stopping and turning his head to face Bill again, giving him a sad smile. "You were a good friend, Bill. Please don't forget that."

With that, Ted left Bill standing alone in the hallway, his mind reeling. It wasn't his fault. Ted had said that, and he wouldn't lie to him. But something inside him told him he had done something wrong, something so bad that Ted didn't want to talk to him ever again.

And then it hit him. He was alone. He was completely and utterly alone, with not even Ted to comfort him. He always had Ted, no matter what, that's just how it had been since they were little kids. They had never had anyone but each other, and now they didn't even have that.

Bill ran to the bathroom, locking himself in one of the stalls. He began sobbing without checking if anyone was in the bathroom with him. He didn't give a shit if anyone heard him, anyways. His best friend didn't want anything more to do with him, he should be allowed to cry as much as he wanted.

As Bill sobbed loudly, his shoulders shaking rhythmically with each sob, only one thought came and went through his head; today, after school, would be his last chance ever to talk to Ted.

—————

Neither Bill nor Ted said anything on the ride back to Bill's house. Missy had no idea what was going on, and the boys' peculiar behavior only made her increasingly concerned with every passing second.

"I won't be home for a while, I've got some errands to run. Have fun, boys," Missy called out with a smile as they approached the Preston residence and the boys got out of the car.

"Yeah," Bill muttered, kicking a pebble in front of his foot.

Ted gave as convincing a smile as he could. "Bye, Mrs. Preston."

Missy waved, smiling, too. "Bye, Ted." And with that, she drove off.

The two stood there for a few moments, but to them it felt like forever. "So- I- I think you've got a few things in my room. I don't know. We can start there."

Ted shrugged. "You can keep whatever's in your room, dude. I just need whatever's in the garage."

Bill's heart ached. He really didn't want to keep any of Ted's stuff. He thought it would hurt too much. He nodded, anyway. "Okay. Garage it is, then, duder." He tried to keep his voice from cracking or shaking. He didn't think he was very good at it.

Bill pushed past Ted, doing his best to avoid any eye contact with him. He didn't want to see whatever emotion Ted was feeling right now. He opened the garage, faced with their instruments and small stage. The instruments and stage he would most likely never use again.

Ted pointed to the right of the garage. "I'll start there, I guess."

Bill nodded. "Oh, wait- don't you-" He could feel his voice start to crack. He hated this. He just wished he could fix whatever was going on between him and Ted. "Don't you want your guitar, dude? I think you should get that first, so you don't forget it."

Ted looked at his guitar sadly. It was leaned against the wall next to Bill's. "No, you should keep it. My dad would totally kill me if I had that thing in the house." He laughed slightly, like everything happening was just a joke to him. Bill didn't know if it pissed him off or made him even sadder. "I'm sure you'll find some other bodacious dude to start a band with, and you can give them my guitar."

Bill's heart sank deeper. He didn't think that was possible. It hadn't even occurred to him that he might continue Wyld Stallyns without Ted. He didn't plan on it. But Ted moved on, he would have to move on eventually, too. "Yeah, maybe," Bill mumbled, dragging his feet as he walked to a small table set by the stage. He took a breath. "Y'know no one's gonna be as bodacious as you, though, Ted," he said quietly, unsure of how he would respond.

Ted chuckled. "Yeah. You- you too, Bill."

Bill wanted to cry again. But he couldn't, not right in front of Ted. He sucked in his breath, holding it for a few seconds before releasing again and grabbing a box below the table. It had a collection of random things pertaining to the band, merchandise they had hand made, a few scrapped song lyrics.

Pictures of the two of them together.

Bill reluctantly grabbed a photograph of the two. It was a picture of them Ted had taken; behind them, the beginning of their band set up. This photo was from a few years before, when they had first started their band. They seemed so happy. He wondered if he would be able to go back in time, to experience it all again. Probably not.

Bill let out a shaky breath, a low sob-like noise. Ted turned around. "Dude? What's up?"

Bill sniffed. "Nothing, Ted, sorry. Just- uh, nothing."

Ted crouched down on the floor with Bill, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, Bill, it's okay, really. Whatever it is, you can talk to me about it. I promise." He smiled reassuringly. "Just because we won't be hanging out anymore doesn't mean you can't talk to me about- y'know, your problems and stuff."

Bill let out a loud sob, letting go of the photo and setting his head in his hands. "I'm sorry, Ted, I just- I know you said it's not my fault, and I trust you on that, but- I just- I know there's some reason, that something obviously happened between us, and whatever it is I'm sorry- and- I- I don't know. I just can't move on as fast as you, Ted. I'm sorry."

Ted was quiet, and Bill didn't realize he was crying, too, until he started talking. "Dude," he said quietly, his voice cracking. "I don't want to stop being friends with you-"

"Then why!?" Bill yelled, breaking down into sobs once more. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I don't want to yell. Just-" He took a breath, lifting his head to look at Ted. "Why?"

Ted stared at him, obvious sadness in his expression. "I can't explain it, Bill. We- we just can't be friends anymore. I don't-" He took a breath. "I don't think I could handle it. And my dad wouldn't like it much, either."

"Screw your dad, Ted!" Bill paused. "I- wh- what the hell do you mean you can't handle being friends with me? Did- did I do something?" His expression turned into that of fear as he searched his brain for anything and everything he'd ever done wrong.

"No, Bill, of course not. I don't think you can do anything wrong, really." Ted stared at Bill for a minute, then sighed. "I can't explain more, Bill, I'm sorry. I don't want you getting more mad at me than you already are."

"Mad? Ted, I'm not mad. I've only ever gotten, like, slightly annoyed with you, like, twice for totally stupid reasons. Just tell me, Ted. I won't get mad." Bill was confused, but he knew if he continued pressing he would get at least a slight explanation as to why his best friend completely left him.

Ted sighed. He stared at nothing for a few minutes, contemplating whether he should even say anything. He felt like just being here would send his dad some sort of distress signal or something. "Bill, I-" He let out a breathy sob. "I'm a total faggot. And- and my dad found out and he thinks if I spend any more time with you it'll only get worse, and honestly, I think I agree with him."

Bill's face scrunched up in thought. "Dude, I don't care if you like dudes. Shit, is it because I called you a fag? I-"

"No, Bill, it's not about that. I mean, kinda, but- it's more about what dude I like. And how my dad found out." Ted didn't want to say it. He hoped Bill would fill in the blanks.

"I'm not following, dude."

Ted swallowed. "Okay, so, I- I was working on a song for this really bodacious dude I know, and my dad found out and- he found out who it's about- I mean, his name is in the song, y'know? So, yeah, he-" Ted turned to face Bill again, who was looking at him with wide, seemingly hopeful eyes. "Bill, why do you think I can't talk to you anymore, dude?"

Bill stared at Ted. "Dude." He lifted his hand to Ted's cheek, letting gentle tears flow from his eyes. His voice was shaky and squeaky as he said quietly, "I love you so much." He pulled Ted into a quick kiss, laughing happily. "And your dad's a major dickweed. You can stay here as long as you need, dude."

Ted smiled weakly. "My dad would totally kill me, Bill, you know that."

Bill was quiet for a moment. Reluctantly, he said quietly, "Y'know, I never said you had to leave anytime." He squeezed Ted's hand. "I would love to hear that song sometime, though."

Ted laughed, squeezing Bill's hand back. "I'll totally play it for you soon, dude." He was quiet. "Y'know, I think you're right. My dad is a total dickweed. I think I will stay here for a while."

Bill laughed, too. "Good."

They were quiet again, still in the same position they had been in. Then, Ted adjusted himself, touching his forehead with Bill's. "I'm sorry, dude. It was most uncool of me to completely avoid you all day. I love you."

Bill felt butterflies in his stomach. As much as it was totally uncool to ignore him all day, he understood. "It's okay, Ted. You're here now, that's all that really matters, I think." He paused. "I love you, too."

He loved being able to say that to Ted. It felt real, because he really did love him, and he felt like breaking into sobs all over again, because here he was, holding the hand of his best friend since kindergarten. He would be more than content if they stayed like that forever, never leaving each other's arms.

[twink-frank]

hi i’ve noticed the pencey prep gay conversation going on over on @awsugar and i have spent lots of time dissecting pencey prep lyrics and subjecting nathan @faggot-frank to my deranged ramblings so Here is my pencey prep super ultra mega gay lyrical analysis masterpost. it’s very long so its all under the cut but i will include a TL;DR for those who dont wanna read paragraphs of my deranged ramblings: Pencey prep uses lots of themes of: heartbreak, forbidden love, keeping love a secret, and toxic relationships. which none of that is gay on its own but combined with them almost never using gender indicators in their songs and the “nail in the coffin song” of 8th grade it ends up being a very Fruity Album.

I will be going through heart break in stereo in order and pointing out which lyrics and elements of certain songs jump out to me as Super Mega Gay and then summarizing my conclusions at the end <3

1 ) PS Don't Write

PS don't write is about leaving a toxic relationship, it has notes of moving on and leaving someone behind. "packed up all my shit / stole back all my tapes / left your spare key under the mat / this is not a joke / you'd better learn to take a hint / 'cause i'm not coming back / maybe you'll understand / when you're waking up alone / in a cold and empty bed." it has no gender indicators or pronouns which is the case in a lot of pencey prep songs, and something i'll bring up quite a bit. it also has general "coming of age" themes, something common in lots of pencey prep songs. which Yeah apply to straight people to but read in this context combined with future evidence can be pretty Fuckin Gay. "somewhere along the line / i found a hidden strength / i didn't know i had / standing on my own / cutting all the strings / that you used to control / surprise surprise / i am long gone / if you thought you could hold me down / by holding me up / you were wrong / you don't call the shots anymore." not to say only gay people can find inner strength and the room to love themselves but combined with other context it is a really poignant message about accepting yourself for who you are.

2) Yesterday

Yesterday is very repetitive and has a lot less to analyze, but the constant themes of wanting to "run away" strike me as very Fruity. once again, not saying gay people are the only people who can want to run away or escape from something But Combined With Other Context. and once again a song with no gender indicators, doesnt specify who the speaker is running away with or what they are running away from. just that they want to Leave. "i wanna run with you / i don't care what we do / gotta get out of this place / because it feels like yesterday." also saying "it feels like yesterday" could mean that the town feels backwards or old timey in its beliefs, implying homophobia. how the speaker wants to run away from an old fashioned town.

3) Don Quixote

i'm going to bring up the cultural significance of this title and literary reference first. Don Quixote is a classical novel by Cervantes which is about a crazy dude who thinks he's a knight, and goes on weird adventures with his best friend. It's typically used as a symbol of following your dreams and breaking free from what people expect of you. In the context of the song its used as a symbol of following your dreams with Someone. once again this someone is given no gender indicators. "you say it's not worth it / been burned too many times / if your spine's receding / you can borrow some of mine / don't go and quit right now / cause i'd follow you through hell." "you say so many things / and not a word of it was true / if you're still in that state of mind / i'd still vacation inside of you / cause i think you're worth every minute / and every dime that i spend / i'd spend all my time fighting dragons / just to keep you alive and talking." it's about wanting to spend time with someone, wanting to be with them no matter what. and its also about how this person feels unreachable, like being with them would be a fairytail but the speaker Still Reaches for it. "your imaginations running wild / round your deceptive heart / this is my crusade / and you're the unreachable star / but i'm reaching." talking about this person being unreachable and unattainble. which isnt gay By Itself  but again combined with the other context. FRUIT BEHAVIOR.

4) 10 Rings

another breakup song once again with no gender indicators, are you guys sensing a theme here? anyways this song is about someone cutting you off and then coming back suddenly wanting to talk again after breaking your heart. it has a sense of forbidden love, like this person Told the speaker they cant be together for Whatever Reason ;] and is now trying to come back and repair their mistake when the speaker is already hurt and reeling. "learn to live with decisions you make / i learned things from the break i can't forget / catch you doing drive-bys at 1 AM / it must kill you to know we can't be friends." "end of the summer you cut me off / i cut you out all the pictures i have." which this Isnt Gay By Itself. but bringing that phrase back with other context this is such a uniquely gay experience. being in love with someone and they cut you off Because theyre weirded out by that and then they try to come back, convince you it meant nothing.

5) The Secret Goldfish

my FAVORITE pencey song. this one has a lot. it's another breakup song about heartbreak and loss and im not even gonna dwell on the no gender indicators because yall see the theme now. it has themes of heartbreak and losing someone who is very close to you and having to let go of them and having to accept that this person cant be yours and you cant be with them. "land of the lost / i found myself in nothing / this time, promises broken find me / clutching to you for something / something that you're not / believing in what you say / it makes me lie awake at night / the truth, the truth is not what scares me / it's why you have to lie / all the time." here we see these themes of having to let someone go because they just Aren't The Same as you. "clutching to you for something / something that you're not." maybe like chasing after a straight boy and getting rejected? also the repetition of "heartbreak is forever" when you're young and gay losing that first person you felt some kind of love and attraction to can feel like the end of the world and can be a huge deal because of the lack of representation and guidance young gays get. and the themes of nothing lasting forever, the fact that gay people never get promised eternal love the same way straight people do.

6) 8th Grade

this song is the nail in penceys fucking coffin honestly. the rest of these songs have a lot of plausible deniability, just vague enough to maybe Not Be Gay. but framed in the context of 8th grade they all start to get a lil fruity. Im just gonna go through lyric by lyric for this one. "caught staring again / like a deer in the headlights / when you can't move fast enough / i take a hit for the team / pretty girl is blushing / i can't tell if she's disgusted / laughter starts to swell / someone gets the joke." this kid was staring at some cute boy ass and got caught and everyone is laughing at him for being gay. the "pretty girl" here is what most people think he's staring at but with the rest of the song it's obvious she's not the one he's looking at. "bells ring, i make my escape / helps a little, but doesn't save / beat downs a common thing / with us every day / maybe im just strange / cause i dont change schools / so maybe i like the abuse / or maybe i just like you." literally This is the nail in penceys fucking coffin. "maybe i like the abuse or maybe i just like you." this kid purposefully takes beatings from his bully who is Obviously male if you take into context the next verse. because he Likes Him. "maybe im just strange / cause i dont change schools" literally willingly taking beatings from his bully bc he has a crush. "another confrontation / you've got something to prove / your girl can't tell how tough you are / when you beat me up in the boys room." this just confirms that the subject of the song is a boy, and a tough macho boy with something to prove. maybe also hiding his own internalized homophobia through bullying? "well i made a big mistake / but i can't help who i like / this may not cost my life / but i am branded forever lame." LITERALLY ITS RIGHT IN YOUR FACE. "can't help who i like" "branded forever lame" do i even need to fucking explain this oh my god. he got outed as gay, he Can't Help Who He Likes and is now branded forever as "the gay kid." the rest of the song is general "im gonna get back at my bully" stuff but literally THIS. THIS is the song that brands all penceys other very vague songs as 100% verified super mega ultra gay.

7) 19

this song has a lot less, and is more about internal struggle than anything. but it is the only song with a "she" pronoun in it. but there is one thing i wanna mention. "I scream out loud / but no one hears a sound / i take my life with lack of sleep / i believe the things i feel / the things i see are fooling only me." this song is about not believing what the world shows you, believing what you think is true in your heart and what You feel. not what anyone else tells you. which is a gay experience. believing in yourself and your heart and your feelings, believing theyre right and theyre true and valid. Also this song has a significance in coming right after 8th grade on the album, going from being 13 to 19, from being unsure in your feelings and angry about the people who dont like you to lost and hopeless but somewhat grounded in yourself.

8) Trying To Escape The Inevitable

this song is about an abusive and toxic relationship, knowing you Need to escape it but being so infatuated with the person you literally cant. “i have this reoccurring dream / you make it hard for me to breathe / i gave you everything i could / i gave up everything i owned / and when you smile it’s not for me / you offer little sympathy / your grasp so far exceeds your reach / i wake up, this is not a dream.” “i have this reoccuring dream / where you admit that you’re not happy / i know that you will never leave / you’re here just to torment me.” which like again this isnt an exclusively gay experience but it is very interesting when framed that way. in that gay people are way more likely to throw themselves into abusive and toxic relationships because they dont feel like they can get anybody else. the repetition of “i know i should run” makes it seem like the speaker Knows he should get out but he just Cant because what if he never finds love again? and the little reprise in the middle “i have a new dream / and everything is perfect / the sky is pink, yellow, green, blue, and orange / and all the past has been forgotten / and we fell in love / and we fell in love / and we fell in love / and i fell into your trap.” implying that even if he escapes, even in his dreams he still falls for this person because he feels like he cant have anything else.

9) Lloyd Dobbler

another love song about wanting to have someone but not being able to because of Unspecified Forbidden Reasons. “why are you so far away / even when you’re standing next to me? / your eyes give you away / telling secrets your mouht don’t feel like talking.” falling in love with someone, maybe sensing that they like you too. that they Are Like You and that they have a Secret they dont want to vocalize. do i even need to explain it at this point? and in the chorus “That I’ll be your lloyd dobbler / with a boom box out in the street / and i’ll be there if you need someone / even if he isn’t me.” saying you’ll be there for someone even if that person isn’t you, also the use of Pronouns which is big for pencey prep. which yes the use of “even if he isnt me” could imply a straight girl ooorrr....Fruit Behavior. also this line “There’s a norman rockewll painting / of two kids sitting on a bench / it reminds me of all the stupid things / i’d like for us to share, but i dont care.” normal rockwell is a painter that paints traditionally “american” scenes. like the american ideal, that maybe he wants with this person. but he knows he cant have, but its stupid and domestic and he wants it but he Cant Have It because of FRUIT BEHAVIOR.

10) Florida Plates

another of my favorite pencey songs, and this one brings back those tragic “love but we cant have it” themes, except with a more somber tone. instead of being angry or resentful or spiteful in the face of adversity. its an Acceptance, of what they had and how good it was and how it just Cant Last. “kiss a mouth to open eyes / stall one last moment before goodbye / drive in different cars in different directions / never write all the letters full of good words, better intentions / it’s for the best although we don’t know it / paper words will cheapen the moments we shared / it’s better if i say nothing at all.” it’s about knowing you have to leave someone, even if having them in the moment is great they Can’t Stay and you can’t even talk or write about the moments you had. which do i even need to explain it at this point? forbidden love, not being able to have each other, not even being able to Talk about it. its a secret, and painful one but its beautiful while you have it. Conclusion alright!!! thank you so so much if you read all the way through that i Know it was long i Know it was a lot of repetition but i wanted to make my point. pencey prep has very big gay themes in their music. with forbidden love, letting go, heartbreak, keeping secrets, toxic realtionships. which none of it is gay on its own but in the context of: almost none of the songs having clear gender indicators and always speaking really vaguely about the subject and Eight Grade the “nail in the coffin song” you can see my point thank you and goodnight.

[alvie-pines]

actually i totally agree with this @florarchon! i think its reductive to define a human as useful or useless, and terribly cold to boot. usually, when a calculating villain in some media thinks this way, we're meant to recognize it as immoral behavior, but somehow when capitalists/bosses do, it its fine? yeah, not buying it.

anyways, i use "useless" in this post as a sort of reclamation. like yeah, sure, maybe im useless. i still deserve to live. even if i never re-enter the workforce, and thus spend my whole life being "useless" by capitalists' definition, i am STILL worthy of life and joy simply by existing.

ideally, that language wouldnt be used to describe people at all. but ideally, folks wouldnt use derogatory language towards, say, queer people, either. but we still find strength in reclaiming the language used to separate ourselves from the "good" and "deserving" people. by saying, yeah, maybe i am a queer/faggot/useless. and maybe thats okay.

disability rights involves the right to do fuck all. the right to be a useless member of society and STILL be loved and cared for and have a fair standard of living. human beings are not defined by the capital we produce.

[thoughtfullyyoungduck]

And he said, I hope you know how to swim

A/N: this is for the gift exchange from @itfandomprompts! My giftee is @iheartthoreau who asked for shy skinny dipping lovers and jealous Eddie. I’m sorry it’s out so late, I hope you enjoy it anyway! 

Summary:  The Derry midnight breeze is freezing, Eddie notes, still dressed in a shirt and pants and dreading having to get rid of them. He’s bare foot now, standing on top of the quarry and peering down into the glinting lake. Next to him, also bare foot, Richie looks over his shoulder, and laughs, bright and innocent. 

warnings: skinny dipping, mentioned of nudity (but nothing graphic)

read on a3o

The atmosphere of six best friends who’ve just moved past the worst stages in their life cackles in Eddie’s brain.

He’s buzzed up, energized beyond all logic by the laughter and loving gestures so carelessly tossed around in their group. Pennywise is dead, and with it the looming threat following each of them around and the teasing unhappiness hinting at what they were missing but not giving any clues as to what.

It’s all over now, and a road full of new opportunities lays ahead of them. Everyone is acting loose, ecstatic with the weight that fell off their shoulders. Eddie’s feeling a tad guilty too, for calling Myra and informing her that way about their upcoming divorce that he’s going to set in motion as soon as he’s had a good night sleep, but he felt so brave after surviving a literal killer clown, that he wanted to get it over with as soon as possible.

A part of him was also frightful that he’d lose his courage, between now and getting home, that he’d look around his house and accept that this was all he was destined for, a mediocre life with a wife he didn’t love and a job that sucked the joy out of all employees. Myra deserved better though, and that’s why Eddie’s guilty eyeing his phone, debating on calling her back. He won’t take back what he said, because he’s relieved to have put it out in the open, but he’s unsure if he should have been more empathetic towards her feelings in all of this. If he should have ended the call after telling her to take care.

Bev notices his wandering eyes from where she seated beside him on the couch, the woman still laughing a stitch, shifting forward and hiding his phone in between seat cushions. Out of sight out of mind so to speak.

‘We’ve got time to worry about it tomorrow Eddie.’ She says, and she’s right. Tomorrow both him and Bev will have to deal with the intricacies of divorce and separating a company and a home. Tonight is reserved for the losers only.

‘Yeah Eds, and here I was assuming that after twenty years we’d have some stuff to catch up on.’

Richie regards him from the floor, legs tossed up upon the couch with his body upside down. His glasses are sliding off, but he’s lazy to fix them, so he looks like even more of a goofball than normal. If Eddie could, if he didn’t feel like his intentions would be even more noticeable if he did, he’d scoot over to Richie, adjusting his glasses and letting his fingers trail his cheek and bask in the skin to skin contact.

‘You never did anything interesting before we went to college, what makes you think you’ve done something interesting after?’ Eddie’s tongue is sharp, a façade he builds to stop speculation about his feelings towards Richie, though the truth is that he is intrigued and he craves to know every small detail about his life outside of Derry.

‘No you guys are not starting this again. I’m sick of your bickering,’ Bill interjects, rolling his eyes at the pair.

‘I reject that big Bill, we’re hilarious, you can’t be sick of us bickering when you haven’t had the pleasure of hearing it for the last twenty years. Michael, back me up here buddy.’

‘Sorry Rich, I’m not getting involved in the slightest.’

‘Yeah guys come on, can’t we have one quiet night in?’

‘What so Eddie can just call me boring and I’m supposed to let it slide? Me? I’m the fireworks on the Fourth of July, the highest roller coaster in the park and the whipped cream on strawberries, but I am not boring.’ Richie changes positions, almost accidentally knocking over his beer bottle. He theatrically waves his arms back and forth, trying to animate his words and add conviction.

‘Okay, okay you’re not boring, but don’t overrate yourself either. The most adventurous thing you ever did in high school was skip a class to read a comic book in the school’s bathroom. Not exactly daredevil behavior.’

Bev sips from her whiskey, winking at Richie whose face turns beet red for a reason Eddie can’t decipher. It’s not until Bev conspicuously blows out a gust of air with her lips puckered that Eddie connects the dots.

‘Didn’t you say you ditched because you were smoking with Beverly? Dude did you fucking lie about that? I was worried you’d die and get cancer ever since that day you piece of shit.’

‘No I definitely did smoke. I swear.’

‘You’re not kidding anyone Rich, I vouched for you all those years ago, but I’m not doing it again. Little Richie was a comic book nerd who just pretended to be really cool. We never ever smoked together.’

The losers all holler, clapping their hands together and cheering on the exposure of their foulmouthed friend, debunking all the story Richie apparently made up where he and Be had to sneak out at night to smoke inconspicuously, with the exception of Eddie and Richie. Eddie, because he’s busy glaring at Richie and Richie because he’s busy tapping Bill’s hand away, teasingly disheveling his hair.

Eddie wishes he was brave enough to give these little affections to his friend, especially after witnessing how soothed Richie got when Eddie hugged him after Neibolt, when he had dropped his face into the nape of Eddie’s neck and stayed there, swaying on his feet of exhaustion. It would only make him a good friend, a best friend, but Eddie is still so damn afraid.

He might have had the power to separate from his wife and kill an abstract form of his deepest fears, but Bowers angry yelled words, such as fairy and faggot, swung to his head any time he and Richie graveted closer while walking, haunt him even now.

Touching is off limits the words tell him, so he shows affection the only way he’s ever known towards Richie, by bickering and pulling pigtails.

‘I should have expected that.’ Eddie nods vehemently, laughing as Richie’s mouth drops open in a shocked manner.

‘Are you kidding me? Eddie Spaghetti is the one telling me I’m a loser?’

Eddie flips him off, ignoring Mike’s whispered; ‘he’s got a point’, in favor of levitating his full attention on Richie. The giggling in the room elevates an octave higher.

‘You all laugh’, Richie addresses the entire group, ‘but was I not the one who came up with the idea for the list?’

Abruptly, all sounds snap off, as everyone is snapped back to the past. Even Richie is, at face value, confused about the word he spoke, until the concept and creation of the list is brought to the forefront of everyone’s mind.

‘Holy shit.’

‘Oh my god Mike please tell me you still have it.’

Mike shakes his head with a far-off look. ‘Sorry guys, I don’t know who had it last but I never found it again.’ He’s saddened by it, like he did them all an injustice by not holding on to a flimsy piece of paper.

The List, capital L, was nothing more but a checklist, composed with all the fun and dangerous things the losers all had hopes of doing after graduating high school. Eddie remembers now, the hushed laughter and uncompromisable joy that came with the simple idea of these things, how everyone pitched in and added dare after dare while him and Stan exchanged glances and hoped to god that some things would never be executed.

‘That’s okay Mike, I’m just happy we can all remember making it.’ Ben smiles reassuringly Mike’s way, who smiles back and takes a deep breath.

‘Wait, I think I can recall some of the things we wrote on there. Hold on’, Bev squeezes her eyes shut and snaps her finger in the hope it will get to her faster. ‘Oh’, she exclaims, startling Bill who chokes on his own saliva, ‘we were going to visit Europe, do a high rope parkour, rock climb and some other things I can’t remember right now.’

‘Didn’t we also agree to volunteer in a hospital and go camping in the national forest?’ Ben asks, awaiting confirmation.

‘Yeah we did, Stan was throwing a fit over going camping because of the environment and the dirt, but we were well on our way to convince him.’

‘Wow,’ Richie breathes, chest puffing up and head dropping back into the couch so his face isn’t visible to the rest. ‘I forgot all about that, but come to think of it, I’m pretty sure I did most of those things with Bryan.’

And who the fuck is Bryan? Certainly not Eddie, sweating in fear from the things that were being listed, searching for the most extreme dares he’d seen happen on tv to suggest, doing anything he could to impress Richie. Eddie was terrified of most of the activities on the list, like Bev’s idea to waterski in the ocean, or Mike’s zip lining idea, but he would have done them if it meant he could bask in Richie’s attention, impress Richie to rid himself of scared baby Eddie was so sure he must have been in Richie’s eyes. So who the hell was this Bryan stealing his thunder like that?

‘Who’s Bryan?’ Bev inquires with a smirk, winking at Richie blush ridden face. Eddie’s jealousy rears its ugly head, flaring up and making his head woozy. He simultaneously both considers choking Bev and thanking her for the question.

With Richie’s secret fresh on his mind, the way he’d so shamefully admitted that he was gay and they were the first people he’d ever found the courage to tell, Eddie wondered if Bryan was perhaps someone Richie had been romantically involved with.

Richie would have deserved it, Eddie argues in his mind, to at least for a short period of time have someone love him back as fiercely as he dons it out, but Eddie’s also furious that he stole Richie out from under his nose.

Which is illogical, because even if he and Richie had managed to stay in touch, and Eddie confessed – not much chance there, as Eddie didn’t even tell anyone he was gay when Richie did - there was no guaranty that Richie would’ve reciprocated.

‘No one snoopy’, Richie argues with a jittery leg, ’just some guy I hung out with for a while.’

Bev appears unconvinced, but she’s also respectful towards Richie's decision to not say anything. ‘So which ones did you complete?’

‘I went to Europa senior year of college, smoked a bunch of weed, went zip lining. The normal kind of stuff.’

Zip-lining, or smoking weed for that matter, causes Eddie skin to crawl, not that he’d ever admit it. He hates that that’s not the case for Bryan.

‘Well thanks Rich, none of us ever did anything on the list without the other losers. I guess you didn’t miss us too much.’ It’s not fair, of course it’s not. He can tell by the eagerness to spend time together that Richie was very lonely, and experienced the same aching emptiness where his friends were supposed to be as the rest of them.

The bitter tone of Eddie's speech, and the way Richie’s eyes turn a little dimmer extinguishes the fire of Eddie’s envy. Richie deserves better than him in every way. An apology lies at the tip of his tongue, ready to jump into the open and hopefully aid the wounds before they’re fully developed.

Sensing the impending hurricane of trouble on the horizon Mike is eager to intervene, playing mediator for two forces that are about to collide. ‘Well I mean, we probably wouldn’t have gone through with most of them anyway.’

‘Speak for yourself’, Eddie waves him off, spiteful that Mike has a good point. He would have found a way to undermine their plans and make it so that he could back out without appearing like a meek lamb, for at least half of the activities. If he had known about Bryan’s existence though, he would have done anything. He feels ready now to do anything, to one up him and establish his spot as Richie’s number one.

‘Prove it,’ Bill dares with a lopsided smirk, certain he’s got Eddie beat. He sustains eye contact, reaching for the bag of chips on the table and gnawing on it with the most smug aura Eddie has ever witnessed him having.

‘I would’, Eddie defends fiercely, ‘but we can’t do any of the things in Derry.’

‘Sounds like a cop out to me.’

‘Yeah, sure Big Bill, because you can easily find a zip line here in Derry. The town that refused to spend money on renewing the library back in the eighties is no doubt going to have that installed by now.’

‘What about skinny dipping?’ Ben proposes innocently, having no idea the kind of strain he’s putting Eddie under.

‘That’s a great idea Ben, I forgot we put that one on the list.’ Beverly acknowledges despite Eddie’s frantic head shaking. The room temperature drops down and rises back up steadily, at least according to Eddie. He’s starting to sweat, something he never does and takes pride in – in the office he’s the level headed one, and that’s saying something – and he pulls at his collar to allow some air to ventilate.  

Everything except that. A swim in a dirty lake that was most likely infected was a whole plate of different bacteria, and being naked in front of the man he’s in love with is not something Eddie is particularly fond of. He almost asks for a different thing to do, but that would truly be a cop out, and he both refuses to back down in front of Richie and give Bill the satisfaction of being right.

‘Good luck with that Eds, question before this all goes down, am I allowed to use this in my next bit?’

‘Actually,’ Bev interrupts, ‘I think you should join him too.’

‘Hey I wasn’t the one that said I’d be willing to do anything.’

‘No, but you were the one who added it on the list in the first place. C’mon Richie, It’ll be fun. For us, not for you guys, but we’ll get a good laugh out of it.’

Richie is hesitant, same as Eddie, readjusting his glasses again. Eddie is sure that if he says the word Richie will tell everyone to back down for him. He wouldn’t even make fun of Eddie for it, should Eddie give any indication that he wouldn’t want him too. He thinks back to Bryan, and how he wouldn’t have backed down for such a thing, and how in awe Richie must have been seeing the man abandon all safety precaution and go for it, Eddie’s mind is made up instantly.

‘Let’s do it.’ He says without leaving room for argument, nodding at Richie as he looks to him. He hopes Richie will go with it, but is also confident that of course he will. As kids they followed each other everywhere, and surely that hasn’t changed.

‘Really? I mean yeah – sure I guess. Bring it on.’

-----

The Derry midnight breeze is freezing, Eddie notes, still dressed in a shirt and pants and dreading having to get rid of them. He’s barefoot now, standing on top of the quarry and peering down into the glinting lake. Eddie’s jumping from one foot to the other, annoyed that dirt is clinging to his skin and branches are piercing his soles, even more aggravated at the idea of cleaning them in infection filled lake water. Bev better keep her end of the promise, and be waiting near the end of the lake with a pair of fresh pressed towels.

Next to him, also bare foot, Richie looks over his shoulder, and laughs, bright and innocent.

‘I forgot how high this was.’

It is high up, but they’ve done this jump at least a hundred times before, so Eddie’s not worried about the plunge. He’d assume Richie isn’t either, but the man keeps glances towards the path they took to get up here, uncharacteristically silent.

‘It’s okay if you're too scared to go through with it Eduardo, I won’t tell the others.’ Richie smirks when he notices Eddie’s glance, crossing his arms over his chest.

The movement makes his shoulders bulk, highlighting just how much bigger Richie is compared to Eddie. Eddie’s mouth waters, and he starts to worry about how he’s going to have to get through seeing Richie’s naked shoulders in the flesh.

‘Just get undressed will you? Hurry up.’

‘Why? Eager to see my bare ass?’

‘Yeah, because who doesn’t think jumping naked into a lake they frequented as kids is the epitome of sexiness? No you self-centered idiot, I want to get it over with so I can go back to the Inn and grab a warm shower.’

With one last peek, Eddie moves backwards, standing away from the ledge and begins to unbutton his shirt, before thinking better off it. Richie picks up on his hesitation, shifting backwards too and motioning his head towards the ridge.

‘Do you want me to show you how it’s done?’

‘No,’ Eddie objects, ‘I’ll go first.’

‘Why? I’m not going to stare at your junk while you're jumping in if that’s what you're worried about Eddie. I’m not that kind of gay.’ Rarely does Richie toss aside an opportunity to grant Eddie another humorous nickname, so the use of his real name spooks Eddie just enough that he opens his mouth to apologize without even realizing what he’s apologizing for.

Richie’s facial expression, set in a grimace and squinting his eyes defensively, are a dead give away that Eddie’s words are being taken the wrong way. If only Richie knew that Eddie wanted him to go in first so he could avoid the same temptation Richie thought he was forcing on him.

‘Richie no, that’s not what I meant I-.’ Heartfelt compliments are not something Eddie has had a lot of practice for these last few years, and he’s not doing a good job catching up on them either. Therefore he sighs and hopes that he can find another way to prove to Richie he’d never accuse him of something like that. ‘Whatever, just go first already.’

‘Fine but turn around okay?’

Eddie listens to him, back towards Richie and the jump off, though he doesn’t really understand the request. With Richie comes a lot of flair, and he was more or less been prepared for a joke about how Eddie got to confirm how big his dick is in reality.

He waits and listens carefully for the sounds of clothes being dropped on the ground, and he can’t stop his mind from secretly imagining how Richie looks like without them once he distinguishes it.  Eddie shakes his head, scolding his own mind.

The next few moments are filled with raspy breaths originating from Richie, footstep sounding further away and then closer again in an erratic pattern. He must be scared of the jump. Under normal circumstances, Eddie would ask to jump in at the same time, but since Richie asked Eddie not to turn around, he won’t.

‘If you don’t jump in the next five minutes,’ Eddie teases, the way Richie used to tease him, ‘I’ll push you in.’ A second later Eddie hears Richie’s loud whooping as he plunges down into the dark water.

Eddie spins, the only thing greeting him the dark with very little light clearing up his path, from the moon. He’s having a hard time to even see where the cliff ends, and he can’t disguise Richie in the water at all.

‘I’m coming in’, he yells to the void, in case Richie can’t discern his body in time and needs to move out of the way. He takes off his clothes, goosebumps erupting on his skin, and folds his pants and t-shirt up neatly, touching the ground with his hands to find a dry spot to lay them on. The air is cold, and so Eddie refuses to linger on top any longer than he has to.

He jogs up to the ledge and darts off before his mind can conjure up the thousands of things that can go wrong from swimming in the dark this late at night. His body flies through the air and connects with the water in one swoop, a pit of glee bursting in Eddie’s stomach. Jumping from the quarry equals freedom, a hot summer day and love for all of his friends, but in particular Richie.

Eddie keeps his head underwater until his lungs burn, eyes closed and allowing himself to just feel all the sensations. Then, something tickles the back of his leg, and the peaceful moment is over. He kicks back the surface, away from the spot where he could swear something touched him, and searches around for Richie.

Richie, with his wet black hair clinging to his forehead, strands of it sticking out in every direction, and his droplet covered glasses, roving more of Eddie’s heart each minute they’re near each other. He’s never looked more beautiful, and Eddie has never had to fight the urge to kiss him as much as he does now.

‘See, I told you I wouldn’t stare Eds, I can’t even see anything with all these splatters on my glasses.’

The moon reflects on the water, so that it’s impenetrable, and neither Rich nor Eddie can look down and see their lower body parts.

What Eddie can see is enough anyway, Richie’s shoulders and part of his chest hold Eddie’s attention, and he forgets to respond to Richie’s comment.

His eyes land on a dark bruise, just on the bottom of Richie’s neck, a remnant of their fight with Pennywise earlier that day. Without thinking, without standing still on the consequences of such an action, Eddie swims closer, stretches his arm out, and lingers his fingertips over the bruise. He carefully positions his body to not touch any other body part of Richie’s except for his fingers on his neck.

He makes an inquisitive noise, thumb stroking over the injury in what he hopes to be a calming matter. He physically can’t pull away, entranced with the way he moves and responds to him, trying but failing to get his fill of Richie clenched.

‘Eddie’, Richie whispers, scared to break the silence and the intimate moment. ‘It’ll be fine. And hey, at least he didn’t do anything to my dick.’

‘Yeah, would have been a shame if it were to become even smaller.’

Richie snorts, retaliating the jest with a wave of dirty water aimed at Eddie.

Eddie gasps, spitting out a bit of water that managed to sneak into his mouth. ‘Oh you’re on.’

The two of them chase each other, and if it weren’t for the fact that they were both naked, Eddie would have thrown his entire body weight in the game to push Richie underwater. As it stands, they just splash back and forth until they’re exhausted and the remnants of their laughter dies out, barely enough energy left to stay afloat side by side.

‘Did you have this much fun with Bryan?’ Eddie asks, a bit envious. He hates how he’s still stuck on the Bryan thing, hates that his mind keeps popping images of them doing the exact same thing only to end it with a kiss.

‘What?’

‘With Bryan, the guy you did all that other stuff with?’

‘Oh no, me and Bryan – we were never together like that.’ Back at the hotel room, Eddie figured that that was a ploy to distract Bev, something Richie just said because he couldn’t comfortably admit the real intent of their relationship. But he’s never lied to Eddie, and his eyes, magnified by his glasses, seem so sincere, Eddie has no other option but to believe him. ‘I-I’m- some other guy already has that place all taken up.’

Eddie stupid, oblivious and dense and everything in between. He knows Richie isn’t talking about him, he knows he could never be the guy Richie would hold all hope out for – he also secretly hopes it’s none of the losers -, but he wants to be so bad. Just one time, just one kiss and he’d be sated enough to let go of his feral behavior towards any potential love interest Richie might have. Just one time.

‘Richie’, Eddie starts, biting his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. He’s taking a huge risk, by foreseeing a rejection but hoping that Richie won’t drop him as a friend because of this. If Eddie doesn’t do this, he’ll never stop wondering what it feels for their lips to meet. He’ll never get over Richie because he never got to experience any with him.

‘Can I kiss you?’ He risks releasing his lip.

Richie is visibly shocked. ‘What? What the fuck? Eddie is this a joke?’

The joke is, as usual, all on Eddie who regrets ever opening his mouth in the first place. He could try to laugh it off, say that it was a joke, but that would mean that he pretends to make a jest out of something Richie has struggled with for his entire life. He’s stuck between a rock and a hard place. Left with no other options but to further dig his own grave, Eddie decides to be honest. At least that means he gets to keep part of his integrity.

‘No Richie of course not, I wouldn’t do that to you. I’m sorry. Look I like you but it’s obviously one sided and I just wanted to know what it felt like to kiss you but it was a stupid request and I shouldn’t have asked you that. Oh god, I never even asked if you were dating someone –‘

‘Eds?’

‘- Fuck can we please forget I said anything so we can still hang out?’

‘Eddie?’

‘What?’

‘Yes. Please kiss me.’

Eddie gapes with his mouth open, struggling for breath and for words. He’s half convinced he misinterpreted  the words, but his tilted head proves otherwise. Eddie doesn’t question it further, counting his lucky start for once, and leaning in to his emotions and Richie, breaching the water to get to him.

Their kiss is surprisingly gentle for the ungovernable lead up prior to it. Richie’s lips taste like lake water, but deeper underneath lies a tang of something distinctively Richie. Eddie can’t wait to devour him whole once he’s cleaned up. Their lips move together in tandem, a perfect harmony that for once neither are willing to break.

They pull back, Richie’s arms circling Eddie’s waist, and he smiles. His smile mixed with the love stricken gleam in his eyes, mysteriously tells Eddie that Richie feels the exact same way he does. His chest caves with happiness.  

‘I like you too, if it wasn’t obvious. A lot more than Bryan.’

‘For the love of God can we never mention that again? It’s embarrassing. No, Hush’, Eddie says urgently, covering Richie’s mouth with his palm when he opens his mouth to conjure up another joke.

‘Fine,’ Richie says while pulling away from Eddie’s hand. ‘How about we talk about something else then? How the fuck are we supposed to get to our clothes?’

[fidothefinch]

Homeward Bound

For Whumptober Day 28: Mugged (because I am really late for the “lost” prompt and this is close enough). 

Warnings: blood, injury, concussion, one moment of implied solicited child prostitution, homophobic slurs, police officers, briefly implied domestic abuse, briefly implied animal injury Despite the warnings, this is, like, mostly soft.

Read on AO3

“Hey, kid, I think you dropped something.”

When Damian turned, he was looking down the barrel of a gun.

He frowned, unimpressed with the ruse. “I do not carry such crude weapons on myself.”

The man jabbed the barrel of the gun forward, toward him. “Shut up or you’ll figure out just how much damage my crude weapons can do.”

Titus growled up at the man, and the man glanced down just long enough to lose his concentration. Damian sprang forward to attack.

- - - - - - - - -

Damian’s head was pounding. He groaned despite himself and tried to pry his eyes open. They wouldn’t focus as well as he would have liked, but he was pretty sure that he was not waking up anywhere familiar.

He took a moment to assess himself, before broadcasting his return to consciousness. There was a cool breeze running down his shirt, and moisture collected on the places where his bare skin had been touching the air. He wasn’t wearing his Robin gear; that narrowed things down, at least. He didn’t hear anybody near him, either, so risked opening his eyes.

Even as they fought to bring the world into focus, he couldn’t figure out where he was.

There were spindly branches above him, silhouettes against a rapidly-darkening sky. The air smelled of damp earth and decaying leaves; autumnal. He could hear birds chirping, all around him, the low hum of traffic beneath that. A lamppost somewhere past his feet flickered on.

He levered himself up with his elbows. He was sitting on a soft patch of ground. When he lifted a hand to his head to stop the beating there, he found dried blood and several blades of grass in his hair.

What the hell had happened?

He racked his memory, but the last thing he remembered was the taste of the orange juice he had had with breakfast. It was clearly the evening now, and the few people he saw around him were bustling homeward.

Home.

He should get home.

With some work, he managed to get himself all the way to his feet, not even needing more than a single tree to catch his balance when he wobbled on tingly legs. He had been out of it long enough to let his limbs fall asleep, at least.

He reached for his phone; Richard would be worried about him by now, surely. But when he got the device from his pocket, a pit dropped in his stomach. The screen was cracked, and when he tried to press the button on the side, it read “Critical Low Battery,” and turned off again.

He would never hear the end of this.

He sighed, tucking the phone back into his pocket so he could harvest its spare parts for later. He would just have to walk, then, until he found a bus stop – or train station – or ferry – that could take him home. And maybe he would figure out where he is, too.

The pavement he had woken next to stretched off in two directions, and he randomly chose one and walked. It wasn’t like it would make much difference, since he expected it to be a long night, anyway. But as he took his first few steps, he staggered sideways.

Maybe he had hit his head harder than he thought. His hand found the bleeding again, and with searching fingers he found a large knot on the back of his head, where the flesh had swelled. Looking around, it didn’t look like he had hit his head on the pavement, and there had not been a significant amount of blood in the grass where he had gotten up. Maybe he had hit his head, and moved before passing out?

It didn’t matter, now.

The air was getting colder, and he hadn’t brought a jacket with him. He didn’t want to spend the night outside, so he quickened his step.

A familiar tinkling followed him down the path. He turned, too abruptly for his failing sense of balance, and nearly fell into his loyal friend.

“Titus,” Damian breathed. The dog whined at him. He was limping, one of his front paws held up. Damian knelt next to the dog and took his injured paw. “What did you do?”

He carefully felt around the pad and found no thorns or irritants, but when he felt around the knee Titus yelped in pain.

Damian hushed him. “I apologize,” he whispered. He rose to his feet again. “I will have Pennyworth take a look at you when we return.” As he tried to rise, another wave of dizziness hit him, and he fell backward, nearly hitting his head again.

“Hey, kid!”

Damian whipped his head around to the source of the noise. A man was walking toward him, down the path. Damian hadn’t heard him approaching.

“Are you okay?” the man asked, then stopped short as he spotted the blood on Damian’s head. “Oh, man.”

Damian waved a hand over his shoulder flippantly and rose to his feet. “I am fine.” Gotham citizens weren’t usually so. . . hospitable, and Damian couldn’t help being suspicious of him. Damian would deal with this on his own. “I am on my way home.”

“Are your parents around? I don’t think you should be—”

A hand landed on Damian’s shoulder, and without thinking he tugged the man down and around into an arm lock. “Don’t touch me,” he warned.

The man’s breath caught. “Let go of me!”

Damian blinked, and he released the man’s hand. The man stood to his full height, rubbing his wrist where it had been bent at an awkward angle. His eyes were wide, now, with something like fear. “H-hey, it’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you.”

Damian stepped back unevenly, and Titus stepped in front of him. His ears pressed flat to his head and his teeth glinted in the light form the lamppost. A warning growl emitted from his muzzle.

The man, wisely, backed away, hands held high.

Damian watched him move away until he was satisfied with the distance between them. Then he clicked his tongue, and Titus’s posture shifted as he glanced back to Damian. “Come, Titus,” Damian called. He mustered enough energy to make his voice steady and commanding.

Titus gave one sharp bark to the man before turning tail and obediently following Damian down the opposite path.

They didn’t make it out of earshot before he heard the man pull his phone out. “Yeah, I’m Robinson Park. I think I’ve found a homeless kid.”

Damian wasn’t close enough to tell whether the man was calling the police, and he certainly didn’t want to be dragged into another kidnapping. He forced his feet to move faster, and he ran.

The man had said something about Robinson Park, right? That put Damian almost an hour’s walk from the penthouse, and that was assuming he was moving in the right direction.

He tried navigating with the stars, but there was too much light pollution; the one star he thought he had found turned out to be a plane.

“Where are we,” he asked Titus.

The dog huffed, but despite Damian’s greatest wish, was not able to respond.

Moving at all was better than staying in place. He would be able to figure out where he was when he got out of the park.

The walk felt like hours. Whether it was fatigue, or dehydration, or his concussion, the world would slant sideways occasionally, tripping him up until Titus’s warm flank would help steady him. His mouth was incredibly dry, and his stomach empty. He grimaced when they got too close to any lamplights, as the glow would make the icepick in his head dig harder. It was better that they stay away from the walking paths, anyway; as it grew dark, the people wandering the park became, in Richard’s words, “shadier.”

He could smell the road before he could see it. Hot asphalt, gasoline, and spent cigarettes wafted from beyond the tasteful brick ledge cornering the park from the rest of the city. The sun had set completely by the time he reached the road beyond.

He reached the sidewalk and peered up at the stared up at the street signs, trying to make sense of them. To his great frustration, his brain refused to make words from the letters. There were still a handful of cars idling at the stoplight. One of them blasted bass music loud enough Damian could feel it under his feet. The more tasteful lilt of classical music spilled out from a different car.

One car pulled up to the curb next to him. Damian couldn’t make out the shadowed face of the man driving, but he knew enough to be wary when he asked, “How much?”

Damian shook his head, despite how it made the world spin. As Robin, he would have taken him out on sight. As Damian, all he could react with was a “No,” as pointedly disgusted as he could make it.

“Faggot,” the man sneered.

Damian didn’t have time to reply before a cup burst against his chest, soaking his shirt and pants in ice-cold slush. His gasp was lost under the squeal of tires as the car pulled away. He didn’t have the thought to memorize his license plate until he was too far away.

The light was green, and cars raced by faster that Damian could track, though he was beginning to think that reflected more on himself than their driving habits. The movement paired with the sticky-sweet cherry smell from the ICEE was making him nauseous.

Titus licked the syrup from his bare wrist in commiseration. His tongue was warm against the cooling night air.

Damian shivered, the breeze from the handful of passing cars cooling his wet clothes even more. He needed to get inside soon, or he risked hypothermia.

He waited until there were no cars before crossing the street, and he walked another block, parallel to the park, before finding a small store and slipping inside.

The heat was a blessing, but the lighting was harsh enough he had to squint. Damian’s fingers tingled as they warmed up, and he perused the small aisles for something warm to wear for several minutes.

“No dogs.”

Damian looked up, and the cashier, who was the only other person in the store, had finally looked up from their magazine.

“He has excellent behavior,” he started.

She rolled her eyes. “Out.” She pointed toward the door.

Damian scowled. He wanted to protest more, but he couldn’t summon the brain power for it. “Very well.” He gave her his best glare on his way past.

Leaving the store was difficult, as the outside temperature felt even colder when he hadn’t had time to acclimate to it.

He shoved his numb hands in his wet pockets. His wallet was missing; he could not have purchased anything, anyway.

He voiced his thoughts out loud as he walked down the street, more to keep warm than with a destination in mind. “If my wallet is gone, somebody may have taken it,” he mused. “I may have been the victim of a mugging.” He felt for that tender place on his head again and winced. “Gone wrong.”

Titus loped along next to him, ears high and alert for any sign of danger.

Damian lost track of time and how many blocks he had walked before he spotted the bus stop. Inside the sheltered benches was a large map. “Titus, look,” he mumbled. Titus did not look, but wrapped himself around Damian’s legs, watching his six o’clock while Damian studied the graphic.

It took far too long for him to find the “You are Here” star, and then he couldn’t make sense of the rest of the lines and letters. They seemed to float around his point of focus, blurred around the edges.

“We’ve got him,” somebody said. A radio blipped. Acknowledged. Over.

Damian turned around when a shadow fell over him. It was a police officer, wearing a sympathetic smile. “Hey, kid.”

Damian didn’t reply, looking him up and down. When he saw his hand resting against where Damian knew his Taser to be, he tutted. “You are not going to Tase me, are you?”

The officer’s hand flexed, then relaxed, but didn’t move from the position. “Not unless you give me a reason to.”

Damian shook his head as much as he dared. “You are the one approaching me.” He turned back toward the map in dismissal.

“Got a name?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Where are you headed?”

“None of your business.”

“Look,” and the officer stepped toward him, but Titus growled. “Somebody called in some kid acting confused and wandering the city.”

Damian’s shoulders tensed. “I am not confused.”

“Easy, there. I’m not accusing you of anything.”

Damian turned again and crossed his arms. He hated to admit it was more for the warmth than for the intimidation. “Please go on your way. I do not require your assistance.”

The officer whistled under his breath. “That’s a nice bruise you’ve got there. Did you get in a fight?”

Damian’s hand flew to a second, slightly less painful knot on his forehead, but it was too late. The officer had seen.

Damian had been there long enough. The last thing he needed was to be forced into a physical examination. Without saying anything, he moved to duck around the officer and excuse himself.

A hand landed on his shoulder. “Wait a minute, young man.”

Damian stiffened, and the hold relaxed but didn’t release. “Titus, heel,” he commanded, stopping the pending attack. He gave the officer what he hoped was a measured look. “Let go of me.”

“Is there some place I can take you? Do you need a ride home?”

Damian hesitated, and the officer jumped on it. “I can give you a ride in the squad car. I’ll let you try the sirens.”

Damian rolled his eyes, but despite the patronizing, he asked, “and my dog?”

“We’ll call animal patrol to take him to a shelter, and you can go pick him up—”

“No.”

“He’ll be safe, you have my word.”

“Titus stays with me.” The dog sneered at the officer from where he sat by Damian’s feet, clearly still a threat should the officer choose to lunge.

The officer looked at the dog, and back up. He released Damian’s shoulder, and Damian would feel more relieved if it didn’t make him feel less steady on his feet. “If something happened at home, you can report it—”

“Nothing happened.” Not that he remembered, anyway. Damian’s chin rose. “I will return myself.”

“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that, son.”

Damian didn’t think; he bolted.

“Hey!” The officer shouted, giving chase.

Damian breathed harder, through the nausea and the pain flaring in his head. His blood was roaring in his ears. He demanded his body move faster.

Titus guided him, a second, ghostlier mirror-Titus weaving in and out of his body. The loyal dog stuck exactly to Damian’s pace so they wouldn’t lose each other. The streets at this pace looked more familiar, and Damian thought he recognized an alley opening ahead. “Left,” he directed, and Titus ducked into the alley, as instructed.

“We’ve got a runner.” He could hear the officer behind him huffing into his radio. “I’m going to need backup.” He was gaining ground; Damian was lagging.

He had just slipped into the alleyway when Titus pivoted around, barking angrily at the officer.

“Titus,” Damian wheezed. The world spun around him, and he had to brace himself against a grimy brick wall. “Come here.”

But the dog ignored him. In fact, Titus suddenly lunged forward, out of his sight, and the officer shouted.

Titus yelped.

“No,” Damian moaned.

He had to keep running. He couldn’t let the officer take him. He couldn’t remember why, but there had been a reason. . .

He stumbled down the alley, turning blindly around corners until he found himself back out on a dark street. There were a few lights on in the windows above him, but not a soul in sight.

Damian’s head felt like it would split in two, like there was a wedge being driven between the hemispheres of his brain with every thump of his heart. He squinted through the darkness until he made out the shape of stairs, leading down toward a basement floor and locked door. It would at least get him out of the wind.

He got two steps down before he tripped over his own feet, flipping down the last six.

He allowed himself to groan at the bottom, feeling all the new places that stung and throbbed.

He must have hit his head again, because he had to blink black spots out of his eyes as he half-crawled, half-dragged himself (his arm, at least, was definitely broken) to the corner under the stairs.

He curled his knees up and tucked his head down, conserving as much body heat as possible.

He blacked out.

Something wet was tugging on his face.

Damian scrunched his nose. There was still a dull ringing in his ears.

No.

That was whining.

Prying his eyelids open felt more difficult than lifting the Batmobile. The world swayed, and he immediately had to shut them again.

“Titus,” he whispered. And it did not sound like a whine. “I am alright.”

Titus continued licking his face, nuzzling his nose underneath Damian’s arms so he could get a better look.

“Damian?”

Damian tensed.

“Damian!”

There were feet pounding down the short stairway. “Alfred! I found him!”

Damian winced at the noise. It was much, much too loud.

“Damian,” Richard breathed again. His voice dropped into something much softer. “Can you look at me?”

Damian lifted his head with gargantuan effort, and lifted his eyelids again.

Richard’s face swam into focus, a deep wrinkle in his forehead. He gasped, when he saw the lump on Damian’s forehead. “What happened to you?” he asked. His hand rose to the lump’s twin on the back of his head and lightly brushed away some of the grime.

It had grown more tender since last night. Like it had opened a floodgate, Damian was suddenly bombarded with all of the aches and pains of the night before. His left arm and head throbbed in time with his heartbeat, slightly syncopated.

Richard clicked his tongue, and leaned back to shout up the stairs. “He hit his head.”

“Oh, dear.” Pennyworth must have been standing at the higher level, but Damian couldn’t look that high up for fear of getting lost in the nausea. “And he is soaking wet. I will fetch a change of clothes from the car.”

As Pennyworth’s voice got distant, Richard leaned in closer. “We’re going to get you home, okay?” He didn’t wait for Damian to acknowledge him; he slipped his arms under Damian’s knees and behind his back and lifted him smoothly. “It’s okay.”

Damian tutted, but even he could admit it lacked his usual passion.

Richard tucked Damian’s head under his chin as he walked up the stairs, and though it was an awkward angle Damian was thankful for the body heat he was able to absorb from it.

Titus followed right at Dick’s feet, not taking his big brown eyes off Damian for a second. He was still limping.

Richard must have caught him looking, because he explained, “Animal Control found the chip, called us out here to pick him up. He wouldn’t stop whining until we followed him.”

Damian reached down to pat Titus’s head with his good hand. “Good boy, Titus.”

Pennyworth fussed over him until he was in clean, dry clothes. The heat was already blasting in the car, and Damian immediately felt himself melting into the seat beneath him.

Richard would not let go. Titus collapsed in his lap in a furry, warm heap.

Damian wouldn’t have it any other way. He was finally home.

[angrypomerianian]

asexual bakubabe! and he’s hella supportive of midoriya and todoroki’s relationship. (he doesn’t show it, but he is. he also cares about the two of them even if he won’t admit it.) mina and denki get told off, but they are good people! denki is also just taught wrong, as people aroung him have been telling him that. he gets better!

also, this is also kind of my rant fic so details may be a little messy!

izuku woke up in todoroki’s arms. he tried to get up, but he only tightened his arms even more. izuku smiled, thinking how blessed he was to have such a nice boyfriend.

a voice drifted from downstairs, “izuku, shouto, get up or your going to be late!”

his mother had walked in on them once, which was mortifying, but she was very supportive. she had burst into tears, of course, which was awkward for shouto, but after that they built a nice relationship.

after that, inko also decided to buy some earplugs. because of the... night time activities. yes, that’s what we’ll call it.

shouto slowly woke from his slumber, groaning and twisting around in the fluffy blanket. izuku patted his cheek, and his eyes opened.

“good morning, izu.” izuku giggled. that was something shouto and kacchan called him, as they were his closest friends. kacchan would never admit it but the three knew it was true.

“good morning, shouto!”

shouto sat up, groaning and stretching. he started picking up his uniform and other strewn clothes covered in a sticky substaces, if you know what i mean.

they went downstairs to be greeted by inko and plates filled with pancakes and fruit.

it was a monday, and what a beautiful day it was. the grass was green, the sky was blue, and the sun was shining. shouto and izuku were walking together, pinkies slightly touching. they’d been in a relationship for a few months, keeping it a secret as they were afraid of their opinions.

they walked into the classroom, and many students were already there. they said their hellos to uraraka and iida, sitting down in their respective seats.

katsuki entered next, giving a nod to the couple. he’d already known about their relationship because he accidently walked in on them making out.

they didn’t notice, but they heard him screach, drop a bunch of things, and fall to the floor. they looked at him, his eyes widened with shock and disgust, and they immediately thought he was homophobic.

shouto was already ready to tell him off, but katsuki interupted him, “jesus FUCK you idiots! what the fuck are you doing making out in the FUCKING LOCKER ROOM!? go to the dorm room or some shit, an a s e x u a l student is trying to FUCKING CHANGE!”

they were both surprised. they’d already known that katsuki had no sexual interests, but they were shocked by the support. of course, he found out in the worst way possible, but they had a friend (katsuki will never admit it) that supported them.

izuku impatiently waited for class to end, he wanted to go home with shouto and spend some alone time together on this beautiful day.

izuku was wrong. it was a terrible, terrible day because both denki and mina were teaming up on them.

mina giggled, “it seems like you and todoroki got closer, don’t you think?”

denki nodded, “you both are on first name basis, too.”

izuku squeaked, “we’re best friends!”

“you were best friends at the beginning of the year, too!” denki put in.

“i think it’s love!“ mina said.

iida waved his arms around, “that’s a little intrusive, mina!” commanding as ever.

mina waved a hand dismissively, “whatever, this boy needs some love! and maybe some sex while he’s at it!”

izuku squeaked, and the girls’ cheeks reddened. sero started laughing. even katsuki’s eyes wavered slightly, unfocused. “i need no such thing!” izuku wheezed.

"it's like none of you have thought about it before. come on, we're all healthy teens. sexual tension is flying, and some of it most definitely needs to be resolved!" she exclaimed, gesturing with open palms. then she looked around wildly.

denki also agreed.  "sex. mina and i have experience in the arts of knowing these things, and we are here to counsel you. you're hopeless, the lot of you." she pointed at ochaco. "you need sex." he pointed at kirishima. "you need sex." katsuki. "you need sex. teenagers need sex, adults need sex. it's a natural part of life! but you two..." denki faced izuku and shouto, grinning. “you’ve already had it, didn’t you? it was recent.”

shouto was struggling to keep his poker face, and was fuming silently next to him. they were all silent, until katsuki exploded. it wasn’t one of those loud explosions either. his facade of not paying attention was shattered, and he slowly stood up, hands banging against the table, so loud that everyone startled.

katsuki was furious. anger rolled off him in waves. "enough!" katsuki wasn’t yelling, or giving off explosions. he was hissing, but was still loud enough for everyone to hear. "stop spreading your shit. sex is not necessary. sex is not for teens. not for us anyway. sex is for love or pleasure or not at all. don't spread your lies. you're absolute perverts, we're all only 16. i don't care what you two do in your own time, but you do not poison anyone else. i already have to put up with you all enough of the time without this shitty talk. so let me tell you this, nice. and. clear." he leaned over to where mina and denki sat, wide-eyed and terrified. "you say i need sex? let me teach you something new. you've never been able to accept that I don't fucking like to be among people socially, but perhaps you'll understand this; i don't need sex. i don't need touch. i loathe it. and right now, i loathe you. now i reccomend you both leave now, before i loathe you enough to move past words."

denki and mina couldn’t move faster. the entire table was silent, and katsuki was still fuming, watching them leave. he sat back into his hair, and carded his fingers through his fair. “jesus fuck.”

he stood up, and marched the opposite direction, also taking shouto and izuku with him. they left the cafeteria, leaving the class to sit in silence.

“well, i don’t need the sex talk with my parents right now?” momo tried.

katsuki pushed them against the wall, silent and tense. shouto was stiff, fists still clenched. katsuki rubbed a hand over his face, “shit, sorry about intruding like that. they just really pissed me off.”

shouto relaxed, and so did izuku. “thank you, kacchan!” “thank you, katsuki.”

he rolled his eyes, “whatever, i need to have a talk with those two.”

he left, leaving those two alone. shouto and izuku returned to the room, where the class was looking at them. kirishima put a hand on shouto’s shoulder, “he didn’t hurt you right?”

shouto immediately scowled, “no he fucking helped us. you shouldn’t be called his best friend if you’re going to doubt him like that.”

kirishima looked shocked, just like the rest of him, and the two left the room again. they heard katsuki talking to mina and denki, scolding them harshly.

“you two are unbelievable, you know that?” denki had the deceny to look a little ashamed, but mina looked like she was confused.

“those two have been dancing around each other, do you know how annoying it is to have to listen to each others rants about how amazing they think the other is? and they were worried that you guys would put them down, finding them disgusting. i saw you spying on them, like the nosey bitches you are, and i asked you not to bring it up. you agreed, even went as far as promise me, and you had the audacity to bring it up in front of everyone?”

“b-but it was gossip!” mina tried to protest. katsuki gave her the flattest look ever.

“yeah, and they were trying to avoid it, but you fuckmunches nearly gave it away. do you understand how they must’ve felt? it was lunch time. everyone was there, and you just had to bring it up in that room. couldn’t you have waited a little and ask them privately?”

“b-but what did we disrupt talking about sex?”

“because the two of them are in a secret relationship, which was supposed to be a secret, and just like how mineta was reacting to that, people aren’t very welcoming of two genders liking each other. they were terrified that you would bring that up, and you did. if i hadn’t intervened, you would’ve spilled it, wouldn’t you?”

mina and denki looked down in shame. they wanted to say no, they wouldn’t, but it was obvious they would’ve.

“b-but they’re liking the same gender!” denki protested.

"yes, kaminari. gay. does that threaten you?" katsuki responded in monotone, although they could both see the venomous eyes . "do you not remember what i said in the cafeteria? jesus fucking christ, not everything is cut straight and narrow like you. people are a whole range of colours you know. personally, i prefer shades of grey, but it does appear that shouto and izuku prefer blue, or the rainbow, or whatever you want to colour it. homosexual, queer, gay. but maybe you're more accustomed to terms such as faggot."

shouto and izuku were in shock by the ramble that katsuki went on. he doesn’t usually talk this much, but he seemed very set on supporting them and crushing anyone who were set on otherwise.

“if you have a problem with it, i’ll need to you leave the building. i hope you learned your lesson, but like i said in the cafeteria, if i start loathing you enough then i’ll be going past words.”

denki crossly looked at katsuki, “they’re wrong.”

katsuki lost his last line of patience. he punched the wall next to him, leaving a hole in the wall. “you’re wrong.”

kaminari pass out, and mina spoke up quietly, “you’re a good friend, katsuki. going that far to support them.”

he didn’t even spare a glance at her, “you no longer have the right to use my frist name. until i say so, you’ll be addressing me as bakugou. none of those childish nicknames either.”

when aizawa and all might checked the security cameras, they were in shock of the two student’s behavior, though it was expected. what was not expected, however, was that katsuki full on supported them. when they checked the other footages, anyone who said something was then seen bulldozed by one bakugou katsuki.

they decided to hold an emergency assembly, focusing on the importance of welcoming everyone, also playing the footage clip of katsuki telling the two off.

the class was half surprised about todoroki and midoriya, but welcomed them either way. kirishima also hugged the life out of katsuki until he almost lost an arm.

that day, the only two to survived katsuki’s wrath was the couple who’d sent him a gift basket filled with spicy sauce bottles.

[disast3rtransp0rt]

We gotta start throwing this internet age mindset away and remember that Queer Knowledge Becomes Queer Power. "Organizing" is sometimes just meeting other queers and getting comfortable hearing a 65 year old man call himself a transsexual or tranny. Or calling that teenager a faggot, as they prefer. Get comfortable with leather/kink/sex culture (yeah, even if you don't participate) and understand that there are a myriad of pronouns you may or may not ever encounter.

Knowing more about the people around you, especially those who may not share our every single perspective, will preserve our history and remind us to defend each other.

Solidarity begins with education.

And the less educated we are about our large and beautifully diverse community, the easier it is to split us up and have us ostricize each other in the name of respectability politics. We are an ecosystem being destroyed by poisons we can't see being administered but have changed our behaviors all the same. Do NOT internalize the hate of society at large.

Twinks need to read the Stone Butch Blues. Gay men should read The Price of Salt. White lesbians should be checking out James Baldwin's work. I am going to need everyone to set down their labels and differences and get smarter.

That's how we win.

By knowing our cultural or experiential differences and loving our community anyway.

only just remembered the conversation I had with the person who said they couldn’t read anything written by a lesbian because they were a bisexual and it would be seen as infiltrating a space that wasn’t intended for them and wasting resources that weren’t theirs to use and they were terrified of getting in Trouble.

[ft-dads-au]

I’m Gonna Stand By You

I Take Pride In What I Am 2020 Prompt: Brave Pairing(s): Silver & Gray, Rogue & Gray, Silver x Mika

A Collaboration by @mdelpin​​ and @oryu404​​ AO3 | FF.Net

Summary: Gray didn't plan on coming out at his grandfather's 59th birthday dinner, but he couldn't take even one more of his grandfather's hateful opinions. Worried at how his family will react he hides away only to learn that he is not alone.

Gray age 15, Rogue age 12

June 1, 2006

The atmosphere had always been different whenever Gray’s grandparents were around. Tense and uncomfortable, and Gray knew that it had everything to do with his grandfather. It was a shame, really. His grandmother was actually quite nice, but he hadn’t looked forward to seeing her in a long time, and it was safe to say that he wasn’t the only one who felt that way.

Argent Fullbuster was an intimidating man. He was strict and harsh in his opinions, which he never kept to himself. On the contrary, he’d belt them out to anyone who would and wouldn’t listen, never being subtle when he voiced his criticism.

And he criticized a lot.

Few things seemed to be up to his standards. Even when he’d give his praise, he’d always find a flaw, and he never hesitated to point it out.

He’d commented on one of Gray’s passes when he’d come to watch one of his hockey games, even though they’d played an amazing game and won. He’d told Rogue he could’ve gotten a higher grade for his essay if he’d tried harder, even though he’d scored the highest grade in his class. Their parents were never spared either.

No one ever spoke too much about it, but now that Gray was a little older, he was more aware of how his parents’ behavior would change, starting well before a visit.

His mother would fret about cleaning the house, what to prepare for dinner, or making sure Gray and Rogue looked presentable. His father would become distant or get moody, burning through his cigarettes in no time.

Gildarts made sure not to be around, and Gray guessed that was a good thing. He couldn’t imagine the man keeping his mouth shut the way his parents did when Argent would go off about whatever displeased him. Cana had downright said she didn’t like him and would stay with her own grandparents whenever she got the chance.

Gray could see the extra effort his mother would always put in to please Argent, but it never seemed to make any difference. He and Rogue would too, they’d speak more politely and mind their manners. But Gray was getting sick of conforming to his grandfather’s impossible standards.

He was 15 years old. He didn’t want to be told what to do, what to say, or how to act anymore. And he certainly didn’t want to waste his energy on someone who would never accept him as he was anyway.

Gray had suspected that he wasn’t straight for a while now. He received plenty of attention from girls, something he didn’t always enjoy but certainly wouldn’t complain about either. Still, he couldn’t deny he was attracted to guys too. It took him some time to figure it out. At first, he’d mistaken it for admiration or maybe even jealousy, until he realized that he didn’t want to be that guy.

He wanted to be with that guy.

Grandpa Fullbuster, of course, had a very outspoken opinion about faggots, as he called them.

He’d use the slur whenever he saw fit. Watching a sports game and the ref made a call he didn’t agree with? Faggot. Someone cut him off on the road? Faggot. A man acting or presenting in any way that didn’t match his definition of manly? Definitely a Faggot.

Gray had so hoped that the subject wouldn’t come up today when his parents had invited his grandparents for dinner to celebrate Argent’s 59th birthday. He was already having trouble dealing with the usual scrutiny his grandfather was delivering, struggling to keep his expression neutral and his mouth shut. But then, right after dinner, when they were sitting in front of the tv, there was an item about the annual pride event on the news.

“Pah! What’s there to celebrate? All these faggots do is make themselves look like fools!” Argent boomed. He took a sip of his scotch, then raised his glass at the tv as if he was addressing the people on the screen directly, “You’re all going to hell, you can be proud of that!”

The awkwardness that followed was smothering, and Gray looked at his family members curiously to see their responses. His grandmother fiddled with the purse on her lap. His mom was putting the dishes in the dishwasher, not giving the matter any attention whatsoever. Rogue was reading a book, only glancing away from the pages for a second before ignoring the situation again. His dad was just staring at the tv with a blank expression like he’d do so many times when Argent went off about something.

No one said or did anything. And although it was nothing new, today it was the last straw for Gray. He got off the couch abruptly and stormed out of the room before he could say something stupid.

“Where are you going?” Rogue asked, following his movements.

“To hell, I guess.”

Like that.

Gray could hear a plate shattering on the floor and a commotion rising, but he didn’t stop to listen. He slammed the door of his bedroom shut and flopped down on his bed, putting in a pair of earphones and raising the volume of his mp3 player as high as it could go in a bid to drown out the sound of his grandfather’s yelling.

Whatever he had to say, Gray didn’t want to hear it anymore.

When his dad came into the room a few songs later, he was still laying in pretty much the same position, music blasting into his ear as he tried to calm his angry thoughts. Gray paused the song, ready to face a scolding for disrupting the peace, or a demand for an apology which he was unwilling to give.

Gray certainly didn’t expect his dad to sit down next to him on the bed and burst out laughing. That’s it, he thought, all the research he was continually doing for his work must have gone to his old man’s head. Either that, or he was going senile at a very young age.

“What’s so funny?” Gray huffed.

“I just can’t believe that out of the very few people I have ever seen brave enough to defy my father like that, one of them is my teenage son!” his dad chuckled, wiping a tear from his eyes. “Man, I haven’t seen him that pissed since the time I told him I was dating a guy…”

“What?” Gray’s eyes widened in surprise, and he sat up, “What do you mean?”

His dad regained his composure and turned more serious, but the smile never faltered. “I’m sorry, kid. If I’d realized, I would have told you this sooner,” he apologized, “Maybe then you would’ve had someone to talk to and known you’re not alone.”

“I’m bisexual,” Silver admitted, and suddenly his behavior around Argent made even more sense to Gray than it already had.

“Wow, that sucks,” Gray blurted out, still stunned by his father’s revelation. “Not the bisexual part, I’m pretty sure I am too, but…you’ve had to deal with that asshole’s bullshit for all those years?”

“Yep,” Silver laughed, but Gray wasn’t fooled. He could sense something painful his dad was trying hard not to let show, and Gray hated to think about what it would’ve been like for him, growing up with a father like Argent.

“It does suck, but I’m used to it. At this point, I just try to ignore it. You know how he is, he won’t change his mind, and nothing we do is ever good enough for him anyway.”

“Right,” Gray rolled his eyes,” Is he gone already?”

“Yeah, he tried to yell at me for my less than adequate parenting skills, but I told him I had something more important to do.”

“But wouldn’t that mean that his parenting skills were also inadequate?” Gray pointed out.

”Good luck getting him to admit to anything like that,” Silver shrugged in resignation, “Anyway, your grandmother was able to convince him to take her home before he lost it.”

Gray had to admit he was surprised to hear his father had stood up for him against his grandfather, he’d never expected it given how his father seemed to be off in his own world whenever Argent was around.

“He was furious, though, won’t that make trouble for you guys?”

“Let me and your mother worry about that,” Silver said reassuringly as he pulled Gray into a tight hug. “Honestly, at this point in my life, I could care less about his opinion.”

“You’re my son, and I’m proud of you for being brave enough to stand up for what you believe in.” He kissed the top of Gray’s head, patting his shoulder before letting go.” I know it’s not easy to do.”

Gray still couldn’t get over how everything had gone down. Just a few weeks ago, he’d been trying to figure out whether to tell his parents at all, not sure how they would react to his news. He’d never expected it to go this smoothly, and he certainly never expected to learn his father was the same.

“When did you know you were, you know?” Gray wasn’t sure if he was overstepping boundaries, but he’d never met anyone else who felt the same way he did, and he had so many questions.

“Bisexual,” Silver enunciated as Gray gawked at him with wide eyes, “It’s okay to say it, it’s not a dirty word, and it’s not something I ever want you to feel bad about, okay? I was never able to be proud of who I was when I was growing up, I always felt like I had to hide it. The last thing I want is for you to experience that.”

He scratched his head, “As for your question, I think I always knew, I just wasn’t really at liberty to say or do much about it. Things are a little better now,” he smiled in encouragement.

“What about you?”

Gray gave a half shrug, suddenly feeling shy after all his earlier bravado.

“It’s okay,” Silver ruffled his hair, “I know you’re not much of a talker, you don’t have to share anything if you don’t want to. There are some things I won’t be able to share with you either.”

“What’s it like to date a guy?” Gray asked eagerly.

His father peered at him, the corner of his eyes crinkling, before giving him his answer, “Well, the first time can be kind of nerve-wracking, like most firsts usually are, but ultimately it all depends on how you feel about each other. If you find someone you really love, the rest just becomes less relevant. It’s the same for dating women.”

For a moment it seemed like his father had once gone again off to whatever world he escaped to whenever his grandfather was around, but just when Gray was about to say something, his father turned to him with a teasing grin.

“So what about you? Have you dated anyone? I remember what it was like to be on a sports team, I doubt things have changed that much.”

“Not exactly,” Gray muttered, not really wanting to get into the few hookups he’d had when he was trying to figure stuff out.

“Is Mom not coming in?” he looked to the door, wanting to change the subject but also finding her absence decidedly strange.

When Gray glanced back at his father he thought he caught the barest traces of sadness on his face, but it was quickly replaced by a blank expression, making him wonder if he’d just been imagining it.

“I wouldn’t read too much into it. Your brother got a little spooked with the yelling,” Silver explained, “She’s making sure he’s okay.”

Gray nodded his understanding, but remembering the clatter of the plate breaking as he stormed out of the room, he couldn’t help but worry that maybe there might be more to it than that.

“Hey,” Silver was quick to reassure him, “unlike my father, your mother will always love you no matter what. Remember that.”

“Okay.”

“I know you probably have a lot more questions, but there are some things I want to talk about first.”

Gray slipped him a curious glance, unsure of what his father wanted to talk about, but he settled down to listen.

“I want you to be careful. Things have gotten better over time, people are more accepting, but unfortunately, there are still plenty of them who aren’t. Don’t engage them, you never know what they’re capable of.”

“And speaking of being careful, that applies to sex as well. Always use protection, whether you’re with a man or a woman, because-”

“Yes, dad, I get it!” Gray interrupted. He’d had the talk with his dad already and had no intention of repeating the experience.

“Alright, alright,” he glanced at Gray with a mischievous grin, “Wanna really piss off your grandfather?”

“What did you have in mind?” Gray couldn’t help but smile at seeing the excitement on his father’s face.

“Well, the Pride parade in Crocus is on Saturday, wanna go?” Silver twisted his wedding ring as he waited for an answer. “I always wanted to go to one.”

“Sure,” Gray replied, feeling closer to his dad than he had in a long time and wanting to experience his first parade with him, “I’d love to go.”

“Maybe we can all go!” Silver exclaimed eagerly, “Come on, let’s go find your mom.” He hurried out of the room, and Gray chased after him, caught up in his excitement.

When they reached the living room, they were greeted by the sight of Mika talking to Rogue quietly. There was something about it that made Gray feel uneasy, but his dad didn’t seem to notice.

“We’re all going to attend the pride parade in Crocus this Saturday,” Silver announced with a smile.

“Crocus? That’s quite a ways away,” Mika reasoned, “Don’t you think we should discuss it first?”

“What’s there to discuss?” Silver asked, stiffening at the apparent lack of enthusiasm coming from his wife.

“Silver, I get that this is exciting for you, but this is about Gray, not you.”

“And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I’m not having this discussion here,” Mika countered, her lips pressed into a thin line.

“Fine!”

Silver yanked the sliding door that led out to their deck open, storming outside. Mika turned to look at Gray and Rogue, flashing them a half-smile, “Everything’s gonna be just fine.”

She followed her husband outside, gently closing the door behind her.

Gray’s eyes were fixed on his parents, and although he couldn’t hear their words, his father was obviously upset. He watched as his mother tried to put a hand on his father’s shoulder only to have him shrug it away and step back. He didn’t really understand what the fight was about, but it seemed much too hostile to just be about whether they were going to attend an event or not. And he couldn’t help but feel that it was his fault that they were fighting.

“Do you want to play a video game?” Rogue asked, getting up and turning away from the sliding door, drawing him away from the guilt that was gnawing away at him.

“Yeah, sure, it’s not like we’re doing much good up here,” Gray agreed, giving one last look at the arguing couple before following his brother downstairs to the entertainment room that their dad and Gildarts had set up in the basement.

“Which one do you want to play?” he asked as he turned on the tv and the game console, searching through the games they owned.

“Co-op fighter?” Rogue suggested with a small smile, “We can pretend to kick grandpa’s ass.”

“If only,” Gray snorted and inserted the game, grabbing a controller for each of them. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected from his brother but was glad to find that he didn’t seem to be making a big deal out of the situation.

“I’m sorry for causing a scene, heard the old bastard freaked you out a little,” he apologized as he picked his fighter, waiting for Rogue to choose his.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Rogue shrugged, “He was the one who made the scene. It’s so stupid, we always have to behave around him, but he’s the one who can’t act like a decent human being. You should’ve seen him, he went rabid.”

“I seriously don’t understand how Dad came from that man,” Gray grumbled, “they are so different.”

“Yeah, I feel bad for him sometimes, I guess that’s why he always acts like he’s off somewhere else while they’re here,” Rogue noted, “And poor mom is stuck serving Grandpa while he sits there saying shit about dad.”

Hearing his brother mention their mom reminded Gray that he still had no idea how she had reacted to his announcement.

“Hey uh, what did mom say after I left?” he asked hesitantly. His worries regarding her opinion still bugged him. The response she’d given when his dad mentioned the plan for Saturday, and the fact that his parents were having a fight over it had only worsened them.

“Not much, just that it was going to be okay and that I should come to you and dad with my questions.”

“Oh,” Gray looked down at his controller, trying not to feel disheartened by that. He guessed it wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t what he was hoping to hear either.

“She isn’t disappointed in you or anything,” Rogue added quickly, “I think she was just overwhelmed. There was a lot of yelling.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Gray forced himself to smile at his little brother, not wanting to stress him out any further. He gestured toward the screen, “You ready to go?”

“So are you gay?” Rogue asked, still scrolling through the different character options to pick his fighter.

“Ish? I like both, so that makes me bisexual,” Gray spoke the word confidently like his dad had told him to, remembering their conversation.

It was the first time he’d used it to refer to himself, and though he’d thought it would make him nervous - like there was no turning back from it anymore- he just felt right. It wasn’t any different than saying he played hockey. It was only another part of who he was, and his dad was right, he should be proud of it. No matter what others might have to say.

“That’s cool,” Rogue replied much in the same way he said anything, finally settling on a character. “All set.”

Gray snorted at his response, wondering what else he could have possibly expected from his brother. “Let’s do this.”

They played for a while, waiting for their parents to call them back upstairs, but when it didn’t happen, Gray forced himself to focus on the game. Trying to beat the waves of enemies helped him distance himself from what was going on.

“Hey, Gray?” Rogue spoke up in the middle of a boss fight, “Do you think they have video games in hell?”

Gray peered at him curiously, wondering where that had come from. “No idea, why?”

“Just wanna know because you suck so much I’m afraid we might not finish this game before we get there.”

Gray gawked at him for a moment before collapsing into a fit of giggles, “Man, I sure hope mom and dad weren’t counting on too many grandchildren.”

“What are you doing?! You got us both killed!” Rogue protested with such outrage that it only made Gray laugh even harder.

Gray’s expression softened as he studied his brother. “Guess we’ll just have to finish it in hell then.”

“I’d rather finish it now, just in case the rumors of blazing infernos are true, thank you,” Rogue rolled his eyes, setting up the game for another try. “And just so you know, you’re on grandkid duty. You like both, so you still have a chance of making it happen.”

“No promises,” Gray smirked, he did like girls, but he seemed to be more interested in boys at the moment.

“True,” Rogue said matter-of-factly, “Who’d want to date you?”

“You’re alright, kid,” Gray declared with a lingering chuckle, ruffling Rogue’s hair in the way his brother absolutely hated.

“And you’re annoying,” Rogue pouted, “but you’re also pretty badass for giving gramps the big fuck you.”

“That did feel good,” Gray confessed, getting up to grab a soda from the mini-fridge and tossing one to his brother.

Gray felt relief knowing that his father and brother both supported him. As for his mother, he decided to trust that she would love him no matter what, just as his father had said. There wasn’t much else he could do until he had a chance to talk to her.

He wondered what the outcome of their parents’ fight would be, hoping that they would still be allowed to go to the parade. It seemed important to his dad, even if he had framed it as a way to piss off Argent, and Gray wanted to offer him the same support he’d been given. It was easy to see there was a story there, and he hoped that someday his father would trust him with it.

As for the game, they never did end up finishing it, too wound up by everything that had happened to stay focused, but Gray felt closer to Rogue than ever. He made himself a promise that he would always have his back, and if anyone ever had the balls to give his little brother a hard time for who he was, Gray would give them hell.

[cowboyguts-moved]

hey jo do you have a link to all your ocs backstories ?

https://cowboyguts.tumblr.com/post/183365830587/tell-me-about-your-new-ocs

i have a link to this post i just updated! it used to have outdated info about everyone but me and tristan fixed it just now. it’s not by any means everyone’s entire stories and doesnt mention major plot points but its enough to get you started with each of em. that post only has the characters that are in mystic overhang. some others arent talked about because they all live somewhere else and mystic overhang characters are talked about the most anyway. if anyone has questions about them or parts of their stories please ask because theres no way i coulda discussed it all in that post l o l

me and tristan are gonna make carrds (they’re just info pages) about everyone that we can even the ones that arent in mystic overhang later on 

[xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx]

Love is Love - Gerard Way x Reader

Request: I need,,,, more Punk!Gerard in my life,,,, okay but seriously- can I request a Punk!Gerard fic? Also can the reader be male and can it be angst?? Thankies bro!! Take your time on it!!!!

Reader: male

Warnings: homophobic slurs, Spoiler Alert for ‘Love Simon’

Word count: 3 424

A/N: I watched ‘Love Simon’ (so spoiler alert) a while ago and got seriously upset about his friends’ behavior after he got outed. And I wanted to put things right in a way, because there has to be some weird shit going on with me if I don’t befriend the forcibly outed kid when I notice none of their friends are around.

Your eyes flickered over the screen again and again, not able to believe what you were reading. You reloaded the page, just to be sure, but the black letters were still clearly being displayed on the school’s anonymous confession website.

“Gerard Way is a fag”

You were not sure which part of the statement was disturbing you the most. Obviously this was not the way someone wanted to come out. You would not want to come out like that at least. So someone had outed this boy, probably without his consent. Someone who was, judging by the word they had chosen, homophobic.

It was no secret that your school was not the most LGBT+ friendly ground in town, but it still disgusted you. And then there was that name. You had never really talked to Gerard before, but you knew he was in art class with one of your friends. Apparently he was pretty good a drawing. And he would definitely not have been on top of your ‘who might be gay but not out’-list. You did not really have a list, neither on paper nor in your mind, but Gerard really was not within the first twenty names you would have said if someone had asked you who you thought was gay on your school. Of course you could not just look at people and tell if they were homosexual, but being gay yourself, you would have expected some sort of instinct or something kick in. Apparently not.

Anyway, Gerard was one of the lonely punk students at your school. You knew he had a brother, Mikey, but he was younger and not yet on the same school, his friend Ray had moved away before summer break and other than him you had never seen anyone talk to Gerard.

You wondered if he knew. Did he just sit in front of his laptop, like you? Was his heart beating faster, his chest imploding, tears falling down his cheeks? You knew that would be your reaction if someone outed you, especially like that.  ‘Gerard Way is a faggot’, who would write, say, or even think something like that? Had people no respect for each other? Why could some people not just accept that love is love? On the other hand, you knew why you were not out. Because there were too many people who were not tolerant, and you were not even sure if your friends would have your back.

~*~

You had kind of hoped that Gerard’s sexuality would not be topic number one when you walked to school with your friends on the first day of the new school year. But the post was barely a week old, and people were too excited to see Gerard, now that they knew this thing about him, that seemed to change the way they looked at him. Idiots.

The lunch room was as crowded as you remembered. People pushed around and tried to get their favorite spots in the room. You sat at a table close to the door, a warm breeze of late summer air blowing past your bare arms.  

“Okay, but seriously? I always thought something was weird about him,” your friend Gina declared, placing her tablet down next to yours and sliding into the bench, her knee brushing against yours.

“But he a girlfriend last year, right,” Paul, another one of your friends replied, making space for Mark, the fourth in the group.

“Imagine how she must be feeling right now,” he said, looking across the hall to where the girl was sitting.

“Imagine how he must be feeling right now,” you answered, not being able to stay quiet any longer. “Imagine some ass posts something so personal about you, how would you feel?”

Your blood was boiling, had been since you had seen that post last week, but within the last hours, you really, really had gotten very angry. Especially at whoever had submitted that post. And since the submission box of the website posted automatically, no one had checked it before it had been thrown out there, probably ruining this poor boys holiday, if not even high school time.

“It’s something people deserve to know though,” Mark shrugged.

“Deserve? What’s wrong with you man,” you wanted to jump up, shout, shake some sense into your friend, but you had to stay calm. “What next? Should everyone wear a sign around their neck, saying ‘straight’, or ‘gay’ or ‘bi’ or ‘pan’ or whatever?”

“Well, he’s just trying to say it’s not normal,” Paul jumped in, making you even angrier.

“Normal? Of course it’s normal, it’s love. Love’s normal. It’s just not as common,” you argued. Shit, you were seriously upset now. You felt personally attacked. And how should you not? They were basically insulting you. They just did not know it.

“It’s just a little freakish,” Gina said, definitely not helping.

“Freakish, how can-“

In that moment all noise around you stopped. People grew quiet and the white noise of clicking forks against porcelain faded, everyone staring at the door. Confused you turned around as well, and were met with the sight of a very pale Gerard Way. His long, black hair fell into his eyes, his shoulders were slumped and his black jacket was pulled tightly around his body, like a shield. He looked so lost and even a little scared, it broke your heart. And for the first time you noticed how pretty he actually was. It was a macabre beauty, dark circles under his eyes, greasy hair, looking a like a beaten dog, but he was beautiful. He would probably look breathtaking if he had a good night’s sleep, a little bit of sunlight, and a shower. You wondered what his smile looked like, if his eyes would sparkle along, before realizing that now was probably one of the worst moments to realize you had just started crushing on him. After all you just had a discussion about homophobia with your friends.

About a hundred pairs of eyes followed the pale boy as he walked over to the serving counter and paid for a plate with pasta. Slowly the conversations started picking back up, but your eyes still followed Gerard. He looked around for a moment before sitting at the end of a table, a few seat away from a group of seniors. They stuck their heads together, before they all got up, carrying their full tablets to the next table. You wanted to run over and scream at them, but you stayed seated, instead just throwing another glance at Gerard. His head hung low, hair covering his face. And then you realized he was alone. No one sat with him. No one was there to talk to him, to comfort him.

“Look who’s in the house! It’s our faggot!” someone, doubtlessly one of the brainless jocks, screamed through the room, earning laughs left and right. Even your three friends laughed. “Wanna suck my dick?”

Enough was enough, you decided. Without another word, ignoring the questions of your friends, you got up and grabbed your tablet. Your mind was clouded with rage as you walked over to the almost empty table. Only the loud slamming of your plastic tablet against the table pulled you back into reality.

Gerard’s head shot up at the noise, wide, hazel eyes staring up at you in fear. You ignored him and sat down in front of him, continuing your lunch without a word. When he was still staring at you after almost a minute you looked up.

“This seat is not taken, is it,” you asked, lifting your eyebrows.

A smile tucked at Gerard’s lips. Holy shit, he looked beautiful when he smiled.

“It is now,” he answered, his cheeks hinting at a tinge of pink.

“Good,” you said, smiling back at him before you continued eating.

~*~

You only realized that you had not thought of the consequences of your actions during the following days. After you had had lunch in silence, you finally started talking to Gerard, about art and music, about your families, about anything but his sexuality or his outing. And you noticed how much you had in common, yet how different you were.

During the following days, you started to hang out more with Gerard, during school, and after school. And what else would you have expected than an increasing number of homophobic slurs being thrown your way. Of course everyone assumed you were gay now, just because you hung out with someone who was. They were not wrong, but the rudeness, the unacceptance, the brutality of their words hurt you more than you wanted to admit to yourself.

So you stayed strong, during school at least. Gerard had it a lot worse than you, so you stayed strong for him. He sometimes told you to stay away from him, for your own sake, but you just laughed at that.

In fact it turned out that it had become impossible for you to stay away from him. A force stronger than gravity drew you towards him, and while you tried to convince yourself that you were not already head over heels for the dark haired punk, deep down you knew that that was a lie.

 So you found yourself lying awake at night. The insults of the day made your throat tighten, your eyes burn and your heart heavy, but then you remembered Gerard, looked at the glowing display of your mobile portraying his profile picture, and you knew it was worth it.

It was yet another sleepless night, the bright screen of your mobile illuminating your face, when suddenly the door to your room slowly opened. You sat up in your bed, trying to spy through the darkness.

“(Y/n), are you still awake,” you heard the familiar voice of your mother whisper.

“Yeah, you can come in,” you answered, turning on the light on your bedside table.

Your mother was living alone with you in the small house, and judging by the time your alarm clock displayed she had just come home from her shift in the hospital where she worked as a nurse.

“Everything okay, dear,” she asked, stepping into the room. Doubtlessly she had noticed your red eyes as she strode over to the bed and sat down on the blanket next to you.

“Yeah- I mean… not really, it’s just-“ you took a deep breath. You had thought these words through countless times, always thought how you wanted to come out to her, when, with which words. “Did I tell you about Gerard?”

“He’s a new friend of yours, right,” she recalled correctly.

“Yes, he- ahm… he’s gay, you know,” you carefully watched your mother’s expression as you told her about Gerard’s sexuality, but she just listened without showing any sign of emotional reaction. “He got outed during the last week of holidays, and… well, school’s pretty much hell for him right now.”

She nodded understandingly.

“The first day after holidays, he was sitting alone at lunch, and literally everyone stared at him, or talked about how being gay is freakish, and I just got… so… angry. So I went to sit with him, and yeah, that’s how I know him.”

“That was nice of you, I’m sure he’s glad to have you,” you mother told you, gently patting your arm when she noticed how upset you were about that topic.

“But since we started hanging out… people… they think I’m gay too, and I get all these insults and all this… I don’t even know what to call it… hate? I walk through a corridor, and people just yell stuff, so Gerard asked me to stop hanging out with him, so I wouldn’t get… you know, hurt,” you stuttered. You didn’t want to stop hanging out with Gerard, you didn’t want to stop being friends with him. You wanted to get to know him better, you wanted to be closer to him, you wanted so much more than just friendship, but he tried to push you away. And you had to share your thoughts with someone, and your mother was the best choice for that, at least at the moment. But first of all you had to tell her something else, something that was bigger than the thing with Gerard.

Your mother was still thinking about your words, quietly nodding when you continued, your throat tight, your voice wet from tears.

“I’m in love with him,” you confessed, biting your lip so it would not quiver, “I’m in love with Gerard, mum. And I’ve been in love with other boys before. I’m, I’m-“

You couldn’t say it. Something inside you fought against that word, that label. Love is love, why did you have to label yourself?

“You are my son,” your mother finished the sentence for you. “You are my son and you are beautiful and perfect and I feel very honored that you talk to me about these things.”

She wrapped her arms around you, pulling you into an embrace. Her shirt still smelled of the disinfectant of the hospital, a smell that reminded you of your childhood. She patted your back for a while, whispering how proud she was of you.

“So…” you pulled away, your face heated from crying, your eyes burning and your voice hoarse. “About Gerard, what do you think should I do?”

“What do you want to do,” your mother asked back.

You watched her, expected her to look differently at you now that you had come out, like all the people looked differently at Gerard now. But she just looked at you like she always had, with so much love in her eyes, the way only a mother can look at you.

“I want to be with him,” you told her, and you really, really wanted to be with him.

“Then tell him, tell him exactly that,” she smiled and patted your knee while you nodded.

“You knew, didn’t you,” you suddenly realized. “You knew I’m into boys.”

A mysterious smile played around her lips. “Not really, I suspected it sometimes.”

~*~

For the first time in this school year you felt actually confident when you entered the school building. You would tell Gerard how you felt about him, that you wanted him to be your boyfriend, to be his boyfriend. If he said no? Okay, not cool, but you could deal with that. You wouldn’t just leave him alone in the mess that he was in due to him being outed. You would stay by his side, if he wanted that. And if he felt the same way? Then you would probably die of a heart attack, but that would be worth it.

You had showered and put on your favorite deodorant, your worn out Smashing Pumpkins shirt and some comfortable jeans. You felt ready to deal with whatever fate threw your way. Until you reached Gerard’s locker.

Black spray paint letters spelled out the words ‘fag’ and ‘cocksucker’. You wanted to vomit. For a while you stood next to Gerard who stared at his locker in silence. At first you felt paralyzed. You wanted to wish the slurs away, wanted to rip the door of the locker off and beat these bastards up with it, you wanted to delete all memory of this from Gerard’s brain. But none of this was within the range of your capacity, so once you had stared at the locker for long enough, you grabbed Gerard’s wrist and dragged him to the director’s office.

It turned out to be a long conversation. The director listened to your story, which you told from the beginning, just to make sure he understood everything. Gerard just sat in his chair, head hanging low, wishing to be invisible. Then the director made Gerard tell his side of the story. The man in the big chair said some well-meant words of encouragement and told you that there was nothing he could do.

You stared at him disbelievingly.

“Are you seriously telling me that you can do nothing against bullies who insult and hurt and mentally scar one of your students,” you asked, totally forgetting who you were talking to.

“You don’t say it, maybe not even think it consciously, but somewhere inside this messed up brain of yours there is this rule that states that homosexuals, probably transgender kids as well, are worth less than your ‘normal, everyday’ student” you drew the quotation marks into the air. “You know who was gay? Oskar Wilde, and you teach his literature in school. You know who else was gay? Alan Turing, the father of modern computers. Hell, Turing even killed himself because of the way society treated him. And now everyone pities him. Do you really want to be the kind of person who tells a kid they’re sick, or a freak or whatever fucked up insult your mind comes up with? Do you want to be the one who stands in front of the world, declaring love is wrong? Because that’s all it is, love. Being gay is loving, being bi is loving, being lesbian is loving! It’s just the ‘wrong gender’ you love. Wrong the fuck! It’s society that’s wrong if they think love can ever be wrong. Not talking about pedophiles or the fucked up abusive kind of love, I’m talking about mutual love. And maybe it hasn’t come to your notice yet, but if you think discriminating against gays is some hip trend, then surprise! It’s not and your views are obsolete. The UK, Germany, Australia, Sweden, France, countless other countries, do you know what they have in common? Same sex marriages are legalized. The states too, by the way. Because these governments seem to get what neither you, nor your homophobic student body, get: that it’s just love after all, and that’s the bloody truth!”

There was a stunned silence after you had spoken, and for a moment you were afraid that you would get suspended or something, but then the director nodded and agreed before promising he would take care of the matter.

When you were finally out of the stuffy office, standing in an empty corridor, you took a deep breath. You could feel Gerard’s eyes on you, so you looked over at him.

“Those were some pretty powerful words in there,” he complimented with a smirk, a smirk that was so soft and gentle and adoring that you wanted to kiss him here on the spot.

“Thanks,” you smiled.

“It almost sounded like… please don’t take this the wrong way, like you knew what you were talking about.”

“Being afraid of getting hurt for loving someone of the same gender,” you wondered and he nodded. “Well… let’s say it was pretty easy since the person I love sat right next to me.”

Gerard’s eyes widened for a moment as he realized the meaning of your words and he gasped for air.

“You, you are… you-“ A smile brighter than any you had seen before spread over his face, lighting up the whole room.

“I’m gonna kiss you now, if that’s okay,” you told him, unable to keep your own grin under control.

When Gerard nodded furiously, you gently took his face into your hands and pressed your lips against his. They were soft, tasted a bit of Tabaco and coffee. Your heart was hammering in your chest and you were running out of breath faster than you liked. Your head was spinning and you hoped that holding onto Gerard’s face was enough to keep you standing. When you pulled away, he chuckled slightly.

“Technically I was sitting on your left,” he whispered into your ear.

Confused you turned your head to look at him, almost forgetting what you wanted to say as you met his beautiful, shining eyes.

“What?”

“You said ‘the person you love sitting right next to you’, but I sat on your left,” he winked.

“Idiot,” you giggled, gently nudging his shoulder, “you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, yeah I do,” Gerard agreed, sounding incredibly pleased knowing that his feelings were being returned.

In that moment the bell rang and you heard chairs being moved around on the floor, and chatter growing louder behind the still closed doors.

Warm, soft fingers intertwined with yours, making your heart flutter.

“Shall we,” Gerard asked.

You leant forward, pressing your lips against his again quickly before the first doors flung open and revealed you to the rest of the students.

“Yeah, let’s show ‘em how it’s done.”

[losthomunculus]

I feel like fag has specific connotations with gender more so than sexuality, at least in my experience. You’re a fag not because of who you’re fucking, but because of the cishetero standard you’re failing to live up to, does that make sense? Usually that does involve you’re relationships, yeah, but I also prominently see it in reaction to appearances or behavior (which can extend to relationships). Sexuality and gender are intertwined anyway so, yk.

When I take faggot as part of my gender identity I am owning the fact I am failing to meet gendered expectations. I am asserting my status as “other” and not letting it be used as a weapon against me.

I’m a fag whether I call myself one or not, because that’s not my choice to make. Instead I have the power to say yes! I’m a fag and I love it!! Being a fag is a beautiful thing!!!