#and if you're queer then your whole body is intentional baby!!!!

[erophonemic]

Do you find men’s butts attractive?

Usually, but also depends on the context of the person as a whole. A good butt is a good butt regardless of gender, but for example lots of cishet guys don't do anything with their butt. You gotta work your ass(et). Put some pride in it. dress it up sexy. Wear lil booty shorts. Try bottoming.

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Weekly Recap | July 29th-August 4th 2024

Against my best intentions, I've been seduced by the dark side 🙈 (the infideleddie/buckfidelity trend).

Complete

i swear it will get easier by lecornergirl/ @clusterbuck (Post-S7, Chris&Buddie | 1,8K | General): “Chris texted me last night.” Tension slams into Eddie’s body. “Is he okay?” “He’s fine,” Buck says quickly. “There’s nothing wrong. He just—” he looks up, meets Eddie’s eyes. “He asked me how you’re doing.” Eddie’s face falls. “I’ve been texting,” he says, voice small. “Just—checking in, you know? Every day. But yesterday I thought—maybe I should give him some space—” he scrubs a hand across his face. “Did he think—” He doesn’t complete the sentence, but Buck fills in the blanks. Did he think I’d given up on him?

Jeep Talking by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Chim POV | 2K | Teen): A ride in the backseat of Buck's Jeep with Buck and Eddie in the front gives Chim new perspective on his brother-in-law's strange dynamic with his so-called "best friend.' And Chim is sick of them being so oblivious.

I'm falling apart (and all I want is to trust you) by diaz_evan (3x03: The Searchers | 2K | General): OR Eddie and Christopher's reactions to Buck collapsing in 3x03: The Searchers.

unless you're choosing me by bucksclipboard/ @excuseme-greentea (Post-S7, Misunderstandings | 4K | Teen): “Could you check that?”, Eddie called from the kitchen. He had insisted to make something for them tonight instead of ordering their usual pizza and ice cream dinner. “Sure”, Buck replied and snatched the phone off the coffee table. He knew the pass code – it was the day Eddie had started working at the 118. There was no new text, just a message from his phone provider, but an earlier conversation was still opened. Before Buck could place the phone back on the table, something caught his eye. Why was Eddie talking to Hen about him? or: buck reads a text he wasn’t supposed to read

can't ignore the crazy visions of me in la by wafflesofdoom/ @capseycartwright (Post-S7, Getting Together, Pride | 4K | General): Margarita-drunk Buck ruminates on how beautiful Eddie Diaz is while his best friend is dancing to Chappell Roan. That's what LA pride is for, right? - or, alternatively: Eddie spends his first pride as an out queer man in a gay club, and Buck is in love with him about it.

the one where buck finds out by weewooforever (Post-S7, Misunderstandings, Getting Together | 5K | Teen): “You’re — You’re over me?” Buck manages to choke out, looking towards Eddie with wide eyes. “When were you… “ He says, his voice barely above a whisper as he tries to make sense of this whole situation. “When were you under me?” or the one where buck listens to a voicemail that turns his whole life upside down.

nothing wrong with me loving you by cranberrymoons/ @cranberrymoons (Post-S7, Cheating, Sexting | 5K | Explicit): He’s not thinking about it. He’s not. He’s definitely not. Buck leaves for the night, gets in his car and drives away like everything’s normal – normal because it is, it literally is, it’s the most normal night in the world, and Eddie is the most normal he’s ever been, and then maybe an hour later, he gets a text. * buck and eddie watch red white and royal blue together; one thing leads to another (aka: the sexting fic) (Part 1 of 🔥buck and eddie's red hot infidelity summer)

i'll come to you and drop my bags (you'll help me unpack them) by farfromthstars/ @doeeyeseddie (Post-S7, Media fic | 5K | General): eddie has some important conversations via text over the course of the worst(?) summer of his life.

🔥Down to the Bones of Me by giselleslash/ @gigi-gigi (Post-S7, Road Trip | 5K | Teen): The morning after Christopher leaves Eddie gets in his truck and drives. Buck lets him go, and Eddie fights to come back for both of them.

Oopsie Daisy (Never Knew That Was Your Boo, Baby) by ameliahart (Post-S7, Cheating | 5K | Explicit): The first time it happens, it’s Tommy’s fault. Maybe that’s unfair, all things considered, but Eddie certainly isn’t going to blame Buck for it. And Eddie’s single, so it can’t be his fault. But Tommy sent Buck a dick pic while Buck was at Eddie’s house, so Eddie feels secure in blaming Tommy for everything that happened after. * Or, five times Buck cheats on Tommy with Eddie, and one time he doesn't.

I Always Wanted My Own Spark by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Future Fic | 5K | Teen): In 2040, during the midst of a family crisis, Christopher Diaz and his younger brother butt heads. (Part 5 of 🔥Anywhere I Want, Just Not Home)

it's a small crime (i got no excuse) by justhockey (Post-S7, Cheating | 6K | Mature): It’s a dangerous game they’re playing. Buck doesn’t care. He’d like to blame it on the alcohol running through his blood and loosening his inhibitions. On the rough shift, or the even rougher week he’s had. He’d like to blame it on Eddie, or Tommy, or anything at all that could absolve him of what he’s about to do. But the truth is, Buck just wants. He wants, and he wants, and he wants. So he takes.

hang me up on your bedroom wall by hrudayam/ @eddiegettingshot (Post-S7, PWP, Cheating, Breeding kink | 6K | Explicit): “You’re going to be a great father someday,” Eddie says eventually, because he’s worse than he used to be and Buck’s reverent eyes make him feel—they just make him feel. “Eddie, I—” “You are,” he repeats, firm. “Don’t you think I’d know better than anyone?”

drink up (you're wasted on me) by okanus/ @buddieism (7x06: There Goes The Groom, PWP, Cheating | 9K | Explicit): Or: Eddie and Buck hook up at the bachelor party. Difficulties ensue.

close ain't close enough (til we cross the line) by cranberrymoons/ @cranberrymoons (Post-S7, Cheating, Sexting | 10K | Explicit): Eddie thinks about it for a minute. He really does, because he’s more clear-headed now than he was last night, so he thinks better of it for maybe thirty seconds. Remembers the inarguable fact that Buck has a boyfriend and that Eddie is – well. Learning some things about himself, maybe, but is very specifically not Buck’s boyfriend, so. He shouldn’t. Right? Except. (Part 2 of 🔥buck and eddie's red hot infidelity summer)

all my little words by youbetsya/ @maddiebuckettebuckley (Post-S7, Epistolary | 11k | Teen): Eddie: Did you just send me an email? Buck: yeah lol. Eddie: Why… I dont think you’ve ever emailed me actual words before. Just stuff to print when your printer is broken Buck: did you read it? Eddie: Not yet. Too busy trying to figure out why the fuck you’re emailing me. Buck: just read it dude 🙄

🔥treat an opportunity like it's treating you by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergent, Post-S2 | 12K | Teen): After losing his leg as a result of the fire engine bombing, Buck is presented with the opportunity to have a service dog donated to him.

🔥 Operation: Keep Eddie Diaz Busy and Annoyed by giselleslash/ @gigi-gigi (Post-S7, Getting Together | 15K | General): Or, the one where Buck forces Eddie to keep busy while Chris is gone, but ends up catching a bad case of The Feelings in the middle of Eddie learning to love pickling things to irritate Chim and charming old ladies through square dancing.

🔥I think if you're lucky by colonoscopys/ @colonoscopys (Prince Buck/Firefighter Eddie | 19K | Teen): Evan hits him with his car.

mask over my eyes and an arrow through the heart by youbetsya/ @maddiebuckettebuckley (Post-S7, Cheating | 35K | Explicit): “Look, you’re my family, a-and I want you guys to be on board with this.” Buck is tense, anxious. Eddie should really say something. Be supportive. “But it’s happening either way. So.” Bobby leans over to clap Buck on the shoulder, staring him straight in the eye as he does. “I am happy for you, Buck. As long as you’re sure.” Some of the tension falls away from Buck’s posture. He smiles. “I am. Sure. I’m super sure.” “Alright then.” Bobby pats Buck’s shoulder once more before he pulls away. “Congratulations, kid.” Buck visibly exhales in relief, which Eddie finds solace in despite the fact that he’s currently being stabbed with a thousand tiny knives. Or: Buck is getting married. He is.

drift past the flowers. by dylaesthetics (Post-S6, (Un)requited Love | 45K | Teen): OR Buck and Natalia get engaged, and Eddie flees the state about it. A petty email correspondence ensues.

WIP

Where there's smoke by rainbow_nerds/ @rainbow-nerdss (Multiverses | 4/31 | 5K | Teen): His eyelids are heavy. His lungs ache. The smoke is dense and thick, slowly suffocating him. Eddie feels himself drift as Buck’s voice penetrates the smoke, cuts through the fog in his brain. “Eddie, stay with me. Stay with me, Eds.” Eddie wants to stay. He wants to open his eyes and see Buck. He doesn’t want to leave. But he’s so tired, and sleep is calling him. Maybe it will be okay. Maybe his dreams will be sweet. Maybe there’ll be peace, there. And maybe, if he just rests for a little while, he’ll be able to find his way back.

E & E: A Buddie Drabble Collection by Tizniz (Prompt fic | 108/? | 24K | General): A collection of drabbles for Buck and Eddie.

Best Case Scenario by lesbianrobin/ @lesbianrobin (Podcast, Multimedia fic | 2/? | 4K | Teen): Buck and Eddie start a podcast. a multimedia epistolary fic

🔥 Things We're All Too Young to Know by Daisies_and_Briar / @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon S1-S6, Divergent Post-S6 | 132/? | 419K | Mature): This is a love story. Even if it doesn’t always look like it. Even if it doesn’t always feel like it. A look back on Eddie and Buck's lives up to now, and what led them to each other, interpreted from the current 9-1-1 canon.

[lostuntothisworld]

Yet another Spaghetti theory

Since people liked my last shitpost about masks and secret identities being an allegory for being queer, here's another one for you:

It's been a running theory in the fandom that the Sentikids are an allegory for abuse, and while I don't disagree, I think authorial intentions are being muddied by salters, sugars, and those in between. This isn't the run of the mill emotional, mental, and physical abuse.

It's an allegory for the abuse that intersex people go through on a daily basis. Let me explain:

For those of you who don't know, intersex rights and protections are few and far in between in France, and most places in the world. Babies are operated on often without knowledge of their parents, and of course, newborns can't consent to such operations that change their anatomy to fit society's standards. They have very little autonomy over their bodies, especially as minors, and are often put in metaphorical boxes by their parents and society as a whole, and forced to conform, frequently with nonconsensual medical intervention. That's not even touching how they are often perceived as monsters by society as a whole.

Let's take Adrien for example: His childhood dream was to be whatever his parents wanted him to be. And Gabriel seems to know this, and is quite literally pulling his puppet strings. Gabriel's love is conditional, manipulative, and controlling.

Gabriel: Adrien, I'm your father. I know what's best for you better than you do.

Kagami is no less imprisoned even though she has her amok. Her mother gives her only conditional love so long as she fits her traditions, and restrictive ideals. Kagami was shoved in a box from the moment of her very creation.

Tomoe: What do you see here, Kagami? It is our family crest, and that crest dictates your behavior – a duty. If you're not your own master, then you're already your own slave. How can you ever be a part of the masters if you're a slave to your own emotions? Do we understand each other, Kagami?

Then of course we have the most egregious example of abuse through Felix. It is up to debate whether or not he is free even though he has his amok, and the Peacock Miraculous. In my opinion he is doing his best to free the other sentikids, but is held back by his own baggage (see episodes Felix, Gabriel Agreste, Emotion, and Pretension).

Félix: [Colt] started to see his child as a monster. And soon, his fear tarried into hate. Kagami: (as Colt) Monster! Monster! Monster! Félix: The miraculous child did not understand. (takes off his mask for sincerity) Why didn't his father love him? ... Félix: And if he became fond of anyone who displeased his father... Kagami: (as Colt) No! (The bunny plushie's arm is seen ripped away from the plush itself.) Félix: ...an order from his father was enough to trouble his feelings.

In conclusion, the Sentikids are going to have to figure out a way to sever themselves from their Amoks (their parents' expectations that they were moulded to be), and also possibly also the Peacock Miraculous (How society deems them as less than human). Only then can they truly be free.

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

Scars That Heal || Eddie Kaspbrak x Reader Series

• Ch. 11: Under Pressure •

TRIGGER WARNINGS: blatant homophobia from Nicklesmart The Beatboxing Jester™️ in disguise as someone you know, internalized homophobia throughout the whole chapter. As usual, will put a skip marker for the heavier scene before and after if you need/want to skip. It is not light, ngl 😔 [trigger words: f*iry + the f slur, each used on exactly one occasion, and (as an insult) queer. I'm so sorry, this was not easy for me either and please do not read this if any of this in any way bothers you, i won't be mad if you skip the chapter 💕]

A/N: Next chapter will be all fluff I promise 🥲, I'm so sorry, but I needed something that could solidify Richie and Y/n's friendship for good, and her helping him through his worst fear is the best way to do that and will be explored in other ways throughout the rest of the series, specifically in the sequel. all that aside, I missed you guys and this series so much!!

LGBTQ+ RESOURCES AND SELF HELP LINKS AT THE BOTTOM OF THE CHAPTER

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

- 𝗔𝗨𝗚𝗨𝗦𝗧 -

    Richie keeps his eyes trained on the dried mud on his navy blue slip-ons as he makes his way across town, his mind buzzing twice as fast as it normally did. He felt as if his entire body had been put through a blender; his skull still vibrating in his head turning his brain into jelly. His stomach empty and lurching as it twisted into knots far more impossible than what you'd see from a circus performer and his heartbeat could rival a hummingbird's. Not to mention he was walking with two extra legs he'd grow from time to time, another freaky affect the physical and mental toll these past few weeks had put on him and his eyesight. The caffeine he had been living on hadn't helped him one bit either he reckoned.

    Insomnia had become his best friend in the past few weeks, hence this last-minute trip to the old gravel pit just behind Derry Town dump. At least, this was the lie he told himself to pluck up enough courage to call Y/n up. Richie hoped she could talk him through it, give him some advice. He was never this nervous to talk to her and deep down in a corner he wished to bury forever - that small part of himself that begged to be free - knew exactly why. This small, repressed Richie Tozier that lived locked away in the center of his heart was calling the shots that day. Hell, he probably had been his whole life but he wasn't ready to admit that to himself yet, let alone his true attentions of seeking her help.

    All he knew is he was nervous as all hell, his palms were sweating, he couldn't stop fiddling with his glasses and he was sure one wrong move and he'd shit his pants. For fucks sake, he needed to shake this! He had already freaked Y/n out, that he knew. He could still hear her voice over the receiver. It was soaked in static and every 's', or 'c' sound she made felt like a pencil was being shoved into his eardrums cause of her shitty outdated telephone.

    "You," she had asked with a pause. "want to meet at... the dump?"

    "Yeah," he scoffed, scratching the same spot behind his ear for what had to be the billionth time out of nervous habit. "you got wax in your ears, L/n?"

    "Nope. Just, a little confused is all. You seem kinda... I don't know, squirrely," she said wearily, and through a sharp crackling hiss from the receiver he can make out a nervous chuckle on her end. "You sure nothin' jumped up your ass or anything?"

    He bit his lip. Hard. As if punishing himself for drawing her suspicions this early. What if she somehow caught on to what he was gonna talk to her about? Her walk to the gravel pit would surely give her enough time to get to that conclusion, and Richie wasn't daft. He knew he wasn't exactly subtle about... "insomnia". What with how many times he teased insomnia, called it that special nickname he knew it hated but secretly loved. That forbidden flutter in his chest when insomnia would laugh at his jokes, and the small but precious moments they shared from time to time when the others were late that would stay in his heart and mind for weeks to come. But it didn't matter now, as everyone knew; insomnia kept Y/n's company now.

    Thankfully his mouth was faster than his brain, and it fired a rapid response before a lull could form.

    "You bet your fur," he fires, his lanky arm had rested awkwardly against the wall beside the wall mount. "I am right as rain, toots."

    He of course hadn't seen it, but she had frowned at her phone. Her concern was growing with every word spoken from him.

    "Yeah," she snorts, throwing back a sarcastic remark. "Cause you sound it."

    She had eased a bit, growing soft and falling back into their usual banter. Their special dynamic always seemed to coax down his guard a bit.

    "You're talking like a 1950's gangster in a speakeasy," She straightened a little and had begun pacing as much as the phone cord would allow her. "Ya know... More than usual."

    Y/n smiled when she could practically hear the smirk taking over his face, and she certainly had no trouble picturing his hunched shoulders and intimidating snarl he was most likely dawning.

    "It's a little somethin' called moxie, kid," he spoke with curled his words, imitating all the gangsters he had seen in those cheesy old films. "somethin' you just don't have,"

    Y/n had rolled her eyes again, at least Richie could see her doing so when he heard her respond. "Right, right. My bad Baby Face."

    "Hey!" He barked, snapping his fingers and pointing at the floor as if she could see him. His voice lowered in a thick Chicago accent. "That's mista Baby Face to ya."

    "Mista Baby Face Nelson!" She strained, her annoyed shout tainted with a laugh. "Are we meeting at five or not?"

    Richie released a quick and silent breath, expelling as many nerves as possible.

    "You bet your fur."

    The exchange kept playing over and over in his mind and Richie wondered if the same rang true for Y/n. He hoped not, cause that would mean she was thinking about it too much. Hell, he was thinking about it too much now. A heavy sigh rolls off of his chest as every anxiety collectively manifests into its own dark thought.

    Fuck, he really had it bad.

    How pathetic he was.

    Eddie would surely be horrified to know what Richie really thought of him, that was for sure.

    And as if he hadn't felt crazy enough, the thoughts actually began to feel like voices calling him from the darkest shadows of his mind.

    'And the other Losers? You'll be lucky if they even look at you again.'

    Richie was surprised to find himself fighting back, pushing back as much as he could. Despite all the jokes and jabs, he couldn't be completely alone. A small part whispered in his heart that he wasn't, and he thought briefly of the turtle strangely enough but it was gone just as soon as it had come. All he knew was that whatever was telling him this thing was stubborn. But so was Richie Tozier.

    He treated it as an intrusive thought. Made a decision then and there that it was, never occurring to him what it could be if wasn't.

    No way. Not those assholes, he tells the voice. These are the Losers for fucks sake!

    The more he thought about it the more he was sure of it. God forbid Eddie did find out, which Richie had no intention of, and what would happen was in fact unclear. But no matter how he looked at it, he just couldn't picture the little spaghetti man ever cutting him out of his life completely. Not by choice at least.

    Now Ben, that lovable sappy haystack of his that was too passionate for his own good. Richie may not be the silent type but he does pick up on things, and Hanscom's affections for Beverly Marsh were far from subtle. Always opening doors for her and turning redder than a tomato when she smiled at him. Not to mention Richie was about ninety percent sure there was a poem of some sort involved. And that was just Beverly, Ben was always thinking of the Losers. Now Richie knew for sure that boy had no hateful bone in his body to the point it was fucking annoying.

    Mike, Richie felt, might be a little similar. The kid had a lot of heart, always going on about the animals on his farm. Would even go as far to say he considered them his friends, what with how much Richie knew about Mooriuel the calf and he hadn't even met her for cripes sake! Richie imagined he'd be a bit more shocked but would try some sappy speech when he came around. Would make a whole big thing of it, pat him on the back, and even invite a conversation. He scoffed at the thought, the image of Mike slapping him on the back and his signature grin... Yeah, he appreciated the hypothetical gesture but it wasn't Richie's style.

    He could easily see Big Bill sputtering up a storm, but managing a smile. He'd probably even manage to forget their differences long enough to say something stupid but supportive. And Beverly and Stan were the ones he worried about the least. Stan would probably be too indifferent to care, throw him some snarky ass comment like, "took ya long enough, dipshit," and Beverly? Well, Beverly had always been cool, very laid back. She never took shit, and she never dished it out if she didn't think it was deserved which Richie admired greatly. This was one of many reasons he was so shocked she had taken Bill's side in the fight.

    The thought brings him back down again, and as soon as the memory touches him so do the nerves in his jaw tensing up again where he had been hit. He could feel the punch all over again. And he suddenly remembers why he is here.

    He is here, he realized.

    Just around the bend, coming into view was the gravel pit. Old and crumbling it was, and overrun with weeds and bushes. One could easily scale in and out of it, and at the very bottom Rich had discovered one day was a beaten and tattered leather seat from a car that found its way from the junkyard just a ways over. This was where he told Y/n to meet him.

    Y/n...

    Jesus fuck, what would Y/n say? How would he tell her? Would she still wanna be friends with him? Would she laugh and crack a joke, not taking it seriously? Would she hate him for it? More importantly, why in the ever-loving fuck was he here and willing to tell her?

    His gangly legs tumble into a sprint as he picks up momentum descending the uneven terrain. The rubber soles of his shoes kicking up the layers of dirt and shaved gravel that lay beneath the rocks and he had to put effort into not crashing as he comes to a stop. He manages to avoid a nasty fall, completely ignorant to the fact that his right foot had been only inches away from a root peeking out from the rocks surely would have broken his neck had he made even one wrong move. He puffs out his chest, dusting himself off, and once again tries to dispel the nausea broiling in his stomach like hot tar.

    He closes his eyes tiredly as he drags his feet to the leather bench, letting his backside fall through the air and into the somewhat plush cushion with a deep groan. "Fuck."

    His fingers rub his tired eyes, his fingertips finding bits of crust he hadn't gotten earlier and his knuckles brush his glasses further up onto his forehead. Not quite knowing what to do with the overwhelming thoughts and emotions clouding him, his fingers dig further into his eye sockets until all he can see are inky splotches behind his eyes.

    Richie doesn't know why he would ever think those things of Y/n. He hadn't ever told her this, not directly at least, but she was just about the only person in the world he trusted most. He knew in his heart of hearts this was why he found himself dialing her number before he could even register what he was doing. Even after their separation and the bitter feelings they took with it, the Losers were and always would be his best friends in the world.

    So why did everything about this feel so wrong?

    From the moment the phone call ended, he felt like he was waltzing into a trap like some putz...

    "Well, look who it is..." snarled a voice from up above the surface.

    Richie's blood ran cold and it felt as if the remainder of the air in his lungs had been squeezed out like air in a deflating balloon. He whipped around at the voice, his head twisting up at the silhouetted figure so fast he was shocked he hadn't broken his own neck. The figure held their hands on their hips, thousands of the sun's rays spilling around them as they blocked out a part of the sun, an advantage they reaped from where they stood before Richie at just the right angle. His breath caught in his throat as he had recognized the voice immediately, but the figure didn't quite match the voice.

    The last thing person he needed to see right now was Henry fucking Bowers, that was for sure.

    The universe agreed so it would seem. The figure shifted, just out of the light revealing the teasing smirk of his best friend Y/n. Her hands snapped together, her palms forming a handgun, the barrel aiming right at Richie's forehead.

    "The jig is up," she snarled. "We knows it was you. You was the ones to steal from Big Bill's dame, and I wouldn't be surprised if yous was in cahoots, neithers."

    Despite the fear that had clutched his heart only seconds ago, a small chortle left Richie at how awful her accent was. Hadn't she learned anything from him? A smug smile overtook Y/n's face as he broke. She holstered her handguns and gracefully descended the pile of gravel. His smile expired not long after, and despite the thin veil of clouds creeping over the sun the light in the sky was much too hard to even glance at his friend without blinking back several painful searing tears from the harsh light. But he could still make her out.

    She was dressed in her usual ratty and eclectic garb; a mix of something far too big for her frame and something that seemed far too tight to be comfortable. Richie was certain she had never once owned even a thread of clothing that had always been hers. Her s/c brow had its usual, light glossy sheen of grease that Richie had learned very early on to not ask about. But there was something about her now, something he couldn't quite place.

    Though one question kept popping up in his mind. One that left an itch in his brain he couldn't quite scratch in his dazed state. And that was how could he have possibly thought she sounded like Henry Bowers?

    He finds himself looking down at the gravel now, wiping away as much of the sun's damage pooling in his eyes as he can. Unbeknownst to him, she watches him studiously, the ghost of her smile still on her lips as if she was enjoying his discomfort. His long and gangly limbs are folded awkwardly, still, onto the leather seat that sits on the ground. Finally, she takes a seat beside him with a huff as he had.

    As he rubs his tired eyes for a second time she takes a long look around, breaking the silence when her trip around the gravel pit lands on him.

    "Well, you've looked better." She quips, offering a smile.

    Richie snorts, pushing his slipping glasses up the bridge of his nose with a friendly smirk. "This comin' from Raggedy Ann?"

    They both breathe a small laugh and for a moment - just one beautiful, fleeting moment - Richie forgets he was ever scared. This is what he needed.

    "So," she says, pulling his gaze towards her, sending him a cocky smile as a knowing look sparkles behind her eyes. "I'm guessing there's a reason I'm here, and not helping you with your summer training?"

    Richie, for reasons unknown to him, feels his muscles tense up again involuntarily. Like a puppeteer suddenly yanking the strings, ripping his shoulders up to his ears and his muscles bracing. He felt rigid and he was, but he was doing all he could not to show it. All his unease came back in steady waves marching up the sand, but what could he do now? He could already feel her eyes burning holes into the side of his head as he kicked around a sizeable rock with the toe of his shoe, studying him. Waiting.

    Finally, his shoulders slumped in a shrug, lower lip in an indifferent pout as he looked around at the sky hanging above the gravel pit.

    "Just needed a change from all those ugly mugs, I guess," he manages a laugh, and he rises to his feet to lazily chase the rock that had rolled out of his reach.

    He can feel her eyes on him still, and he doesn't know what to make of it until finally she breaks her silence with a chuckle and rises to join him. She catches the rock with the heel of her dirtied sneakers. They're worn down to the very last thread and several shades off from the original color. She kicks the rock back to him, and they engage in a lazy game of rock soccer.

    "I can understand that," she says calmly, eyes trained on the rock as it tumbles across the gravel with several chunky clanks. "Reckon it'll be good for you, too,"

    He frowns confused without looking up at her, winding one lanky leg back before one big kick. "Whad'ya mean?"

    "Well, you don't wanna spend your whole summer inside of an arcade, do you?"

    Richie's face freezes in a frown, the rest of his body going rigid. His eyes cement on the rock underneath his shoe, willing away the veil of tears that threatened to fall. Had he not been so caught up on why he was here, Richie might have had a clear enough head to realize Y/n wasn't there for that conversation, nor had she heard about it from anyone there. Instead, all Rich can think about is the small hypochondriac boy that had stolen his heart.

    He can hear the conversation he had with his best friend, all those weeks ago when school let out. And if felt like a lifetime since he had seen that squishable, pouty little disgusted frown Eddie always put on that made Richie's inside melt. As if reading his mind, Y/n spoke.

    "This is about Eddie, isn't it?"

    Her tone is gentle but veiled. Something was concealed about the way she held herself, ever since she had arrived, something that Richie couldn't quite place. And there it was. He was right about her suspecting him, he must be. Richie battles the lump forming in his throat, and he can feel his ears turning pink under her unwavering and unblinking stare.

    Richie does all he can to fight a snarky response, not knowing how else to navigate and survive the intensity of his feelings. All he manages to do is nod.

[■■■■■■■■■■■■]

    "Rich, it's okay," she says, taking a step forward, his gaze is pulled to her eyes. And here it is, he thinks. The moment he had been dreading, the moment he hadn't even allowed himself to think about. "...I miss him, too."

    His face caught in another frown. That's definitely not what he expected her to say. Quickly as he could, he wiped away a spot of snot at his nose. He had managed to keep the tears at bay but now they had found another way out. He felt like a fucking fool, and he wanted nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow him whole. Of course she didn't know what he was talking about. Why would she - how would she? His spirits were crushed, and he suddenly didn't feel like getting into it now. She seemed off today, not that Richie cared. All he wanted was for this whole day to be over with, not even knowing the worst had yet to come.

    She studies his reaction, almost as if she had been waiting for this and she blinks for what Richie is now starting to realize must be the first time since she got here. Y/n's face screws into a frown, and yet there still lingered an uneasy smile that taunted him. Her eyes squint suspiciously at Richie, her head tilting in an expression he never knew he had always feared would come.

    She laughs finally, a shrill and grating laugh he hadn't quite heard before and she nudges him playfully. "Oh, come on! It's not like you've got some faggy crush on him or something?"

    When he doesn't answer, she scoffs, turning away and shaking her head in disbelief for a moment.

    Richie felt he just might vomit. Or cry. Or both. He had never felt so distraught, so dejected. So broken.

    How could she be saying these things?

    He tries with all his might to conjure a response, any fucking thing at all so he wasn't some blubbering broken chump breaking down in front of her. But for the first time in his life, Richie "loudmouth" Tozier was speechless.

    That fuck-awful grating laugh returns, a sour look screws up her face as she looks him up and down in disgust.

    "Wait, seriously?" She gapes with a scoff, making him feel about two inches tall. "You actually think he'd want to be with some fairy freak like you?"

    "F-f-uck off," he sputters, though he does not feel better.

    The trembling in his voice, the vulnerability, hearing it in himself strips any remaining scrap of confidence he had left. He's crying now and there's no hiding it. And she heard it in his voice, he knew that now as he looks at her. Her lips curl into a malicious smile and she takes another step closer, Richie fumbles a step back.

    "He isn't some," her nose crinkles as she continues to advance on him, the fire in her eyes building as he stumbles back to escape her sudden venom. "rotten queer like you."

    Y/n spits the words out like they were poison on her tongue, and this was true in every way. Her fiery stare never left Richie, it burned holes right through him as she advanced on him like a wolf on a wounded doe. They were nearing the edge of the gravel pit, and Richie had nearly run out of room when her finger stabbed his chest like a sword's final strike to the heart, pushing him to the ground as she spoke those poisonous words.

    Richie felt his backside meet several jagged rocks that brought even more tears to his eyes, though none of them hurt as much as her words. She towered over him now, the sun beating down on her back and pouring over her shoulders, trapping Richie in her shadow. She shakes her head, and he can still make out the pathetic look on her face as she glowers at him.

    "It's girls he likes. It's me he likes." she points to herself, shaking her head. "He was mine the second he saw me, but you?"

    She scoffs again, and her shadow releases him as she kneels to balance on her feet, legs folded before him with a snide look.

    "You've always been the insufferable loudmouth he couldn't get rid of." A sharp laugh escapes her, the clutch on his heart tightening to dangerous amounts he fears it will give out. "Well, I guess he doesn't have to worry about that now, huh?"

    His heart feels as if it has been ripped to shreds, the claws of the wolf had struck and now he was drowning in his own sorrows as pain as the heartbreak filled his lungs. Richie could no longer see behind the thick wall of glassy tears that blanketed his eyes, and the sounds of his own sobs amplified his embarrassment and despair. He was hopelessly broken, and he could feel himself crumble, each piece disappearing amongst the gravel underneath him until he couldn't be found. He blinked only once, but it was enough to send every tear racing down his cheek at once.

    Another malicious smile contorts her face, her e/c eyes burning darker until they looked almost a completely different shade. Her lips seemed to stretch on and on and on in a way only one thing could. And it was then that it occurred to him.

    Not one thing she had said to him is something he could have ever prepared himself for, each word constricting his heart and lungs and swelling his throat with the ever-growing lump.

    Nor was any of it something she would ever dream of saying, he knew this now.

[■■■■■■■■■■■■]

    This wasn't Y/n, this was never Y/n. She had never showed, and if he hadn't been so wrapped up in his own fucking head he would have caught on from the second "Y/n" arrived. Especially that entrance, Y/n surely would have fallen on her ass on her way down into the gravel pit never mind the fact her accent wouldn't be nearly as shit.

    But none of this mattered now. This thing that looked like his friend had him cornered, and It knew it.

    A wicked grin overtook the mask of Y/n's face that chilled Richie to his bones, and yet it also reassured him. Y/n was tough and could be scary from time to time, but he knew she could never be capable of the pure evil that now danced in It's eyes. Richie's body was already in motion, his arms and legs scrambling for any sort of grip that could take him up the side of the pit and to safety. But the gravel beneath him was always shifting, rolling out from underneath him when it wasn't raking his palms to pieces and all he was accomplishing was a small plume of dust that clung to his backside.

    Richie didn't know where it came from, but his actions were faster than his feelings as his fist collided with It's nose. And no sooner did the heel of his shoe collide in a painful crack that sent It's head back, did his eyes widen in horrific shock. The painful crack that would surely haunt him for many nights to come, had not been from the collision of his heel on It's nose but It's head - or Y/n's as this was still It's disguise - had snapped completely back and dangled completely off It's/her shoulders.

    The only thing connecting her head to her shoulders was the suit of s/c skin. Protruding from the center of her neck just under the skin was the end of her spine where it had disconnected, giving away a disturbing lack of muscles and veins in her neck as if it had been hollowed out like a pumpkin. Her head rolled back and forth limply, and Richie could feel bile climbing up his throat, ready to burst out his digested mac and cheese.

    His mind was screaming at his legs to run while all was still but a small part of him knew this was all a gambit, that it didn't matter if she was frozen stiff or not. Richie knew as soon as he booked it, It would spring to life with something even more twisted. That now, without his friends, he was as good as dead.

    And It was more than happy to prove Richie right.

    The clone of his friend sprang to life, It's head still rolling around on It's shoulders. Connected only by the skin of It's neck, and moving around like some fucked up slinky toy. Richie was already halfway up the gravel pit, bits of rock and dirt finding their way into his shoes as he kicked up the earth though that was the farthest thing from his mind.

    By the time Richie reached the top of the pit, he could no longer hear the thunderous boom of his heart attempting to break loose from his chest, which was saying an awful lot. His screams echoed out into the air only to be swallowed by the screams of other children and Richie didn't know how he knew this but he knew those were the screams of Betty Ripsom, Ed Corcoran... Georgie Denbrough. The bloodied screams of It's victims were drowning Richie as he ran for the junkyard, and he wondered if he might live to hear them stop.

    The screams were so fucking loud in his ears he could see them. Each of them a blinding, deafening, gut-wrenching, and blood-curdling scream that danced through the air like ribbons as they begged for their lives. Richie cried out and he couldn't even hear his own voice, but he didn't let this stop his legs from pumping as hard as they possibly could. He was nearly to the junkyard, surely he could use something to fend It off but he knew he was just buying time.

    He could taste the blood on his tongue from where his teeth bit into his cheek. In all his short life, Richie Tozier would not have guessed child-eating clown to be the way he'd kick the can. When ever the thought of death began troubling him, he always liked to picture something like a western. Him and his rightful enemy squaring off against good and evil, he'd shoot first and save the day but still sustain an injury and bleed out. But it'd be a hero's death. And that was something.

   But this... this was something born out of darker than evil and Richie was about to be pulled into the gravity well of this black hole and swallowed up. And he knew in his soul, the very pits of his stomach it would reach out with its shadowy arms and pull him into darkness.

    And it did.

    Richie had been rapidly approaching the edge of the junkyard without realizing and within an instant found himself on the ground, caved in on himself as he tumbled in the dirt and rocks accepting he was to join them soon enough. He closed his eyes and waited for death as a hand curled around his shoulder and pulled him around. Another jolt of shock shot through his entire body at the sudden contact, locking his jaw and paralyzing his entire body in fear as he was met with the new threat. He didn't dare open his eyes, and certainly not when he heard his best friend's voice again.

    "Richie! Richie?"

    It was her again, he realized. Y/n's real voice, the one that he heard on the telephone that was dripped in static. The one now dripped in fear.

   "Richie?!"

    When the boy opened his eyes, they were filled with terror and his sobs continued. A lense Y/n never thought she'd see Richie look at her through. Her heart broke in an instant when she realized he was afraid... of her. Instantly, she released him and let her backside fall back into the gravel. She watched through a thick wall of tears as he trembled, crying to himself, and never in all her life had she seen Richie Tozier so broken.

    It tore her apart.

    She didn't have to be a genius to realize what had happened here. Before she had even reached the junkyard on her bike she had heard his screams strangled through the wall of trees gating the area. When she had reached the gravel yard, she was happy to see him still in one piece but he was running for his life from an invisible force. The damn coward had gotten what It wanted and scared him shitless, but why would he disappear just because she showed? She had wondered.

    Now she was beginning to understand. It didn't need to be here to scare her. Just the sight of Richie in such a state was enough to tear her down and it took just about everything in her not to scream into the sky from a mix of fury and fear.

    Besides the tears that race down her cheeks and wet her legs, all Y/n could feel was a painfully numbing fear. Fear that Richie would never be the same. Fear that Richie would never speak to her again. Fear that Richie would never trust her again. Fear for whatever the fucking hell that thing did to Richie. Fear that It would do it again.

    All she felt now was fear for Richie.

    Y/n doesn't bother to fight the sob that breaks loose, her bottom lip quivers violently and her arms fall to the gravely pavement beneath her. As if her head had filled with lead, it grew heavy enough to fall into her chest where her chin landed, shaking several more tears loose.

    "I'm s-so sorry, Richie,"

    Y/n yearns to say more, but her body is physically weak from sadness and shame. Yet still, she repeats it in her mind hoping with everything in her it slips out of her mouth, or maybe if she thought them loud enough he'd hear them in his mind.

    I'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't there. I'm sorry for whatever happened. I'm so goddamn sorry...

    "I'm sorry," she whimpers. "I promise..."

    I promise I'm not gonna hurt you. I promise I'm not gonna hate you. I promise I'm gonna be there for you, from now on. I promise.

    Her sniffles blend with his own, and Richie is unsure why this is the moment he knows for sure this is the real Y/n before him; maybe he was just too exhausted to think it through, perhaps it was the godawful sound she was making trying to keep herself from snotting as bad as he was but he knew It had gone. And the Y/n sitting beside him — crying with him, was the one he dialed up today. This was the Y/n he had been prepared to bare his soul to. His true self.

    So with one shaky hand — the other still tucked in close to his chest — Richie's left hand slid out from under him and across the gravel to Y/n's open palm. Her fingers were digging into the gravel, sharp edges of the rock digging into her skin as if to assure herself she was really real. Suddenly, she felt Richie's shaky palm slide underneath hers, carefully taking it.

    Y/n picked her glassy stare up from the ground to look at their intertwined hands, and she melted a little. Several of those fears — not all of them, but some — were ebbed away and she looked to Richie. He was still curled up in the dirt, his eyes closed and silent tears streaking his dirt-covered face. Each tear paved a path of clean skin, washing the dirt away in wild streaks where ever each tear had fallen. Several large and swollen beads of tears collected at his chin where they dangled, threatening to fall.

    She gave his hand a squeeze, letting him know she was there for him as she had promised him. And she was ready to sit with him for as long as he needed.

    For hours that feel only like minutes, they sit together in tear-filled silence, clinging to one another's presence and the knowledge that they are now all they have left.

    And there was no way they were letting go.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Here are some LGBTQ+ resources for mental health and self help if you feel you need them:

How do I find LGBTQ friendly therapy?

An article on safe ways to find the best sources of help that are right for you

The Trevor Project

Self Care Tips for Trans and Non Binary Folks

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[queercapwriting]

Hi, I know you're not taking prompts, so feel free to ignore me.. but I'm in love with my best friend and she just got a boyfriend, so I was wondering if you could write about Alex and maybe Maggie too comforting a baby gay teenager about something like this? That would mean so much to me. Also, you're incredible, all the love and advice you give out on this page, we're all so grateful for you

He does what he always does.

He hears about a sad baby queer from his old high school, and he takes the train back to National City as soon as he gets out of physics lab, and he picks them up and takes them to dinner at Maggie’s.

Mags, I’m bringing a newbie over tonight. They’re all messed up because their best friend just got herself a man. They’re gay as all hell for this girl and they really, really, realllllly like pizza.

Maggie smirks when she reads it and forwards it to Alex.

I guess it’s pizza tonight, babe. Ade’s bringing a kid over – that okay?

Of course it’s okay. 

Of course it’s okay, because the whole gay thing might be wildly new to Alex, but she’s taken to it like she takes to everything: intently. Studiously. Full-bodied and wholehearted and no looking back.

And a huge part of her coming out was Maggie, was Adrian, helping her through it, teaching her, showing her, helping her… love her.

And Alex Danvers is about nothing if not giving back.

So she and Maggie have taken to faux-adopting all the queer kids – Adrian calls them strays, and says they should all get jackets as Maggie and Alex chuckle about their apartments being the Island of Misfit Toys, and laugh even further when Adrian is too young to get the reference – that Adrian brings home with him.

Home.

Their home.

Open. Always.

So it’s pizza night and J’onn lets Alex off early with a soft smile and a gentle hand on her shoulder: I’m proud of you, Alex, he tells her, and she could cry with relief, because it wasn’t too long ago she was terrified that being a lesbian would make her a… disappointment. Somehow.

But her space father’s eyes are shining, and the slight breeze feels amazing, if not a little harsh, whipping over her riding gear as she speeds her Ducati home.

Home.

Adrian and Maggie are already there – already home – already cracking open bottles of root beer and laughing about something or other with a curvy, cautiously beaming teenager with a fade and perfect eyeliner and a dimpled smile.

Alex hugs Adrian and kisses Maggie – awwwwwwwww, Adrian sing-songs, and Maggie reaches over to give him a soft shove without opening her eyes, without taking her lips off of Alex’s – and, when they’re done – finally, Adrian giggles, and it’s Alex who fake-shoves him this time, but the teasing gesture doesn’t disguise her blush – Alex holds out her hand to the new kid.

“Hey, I’m Alex,” she offers, and the kid takes her hand almost eagerly.

“Em,” they say, and Alex grins. 

“A good name,” she affirms, and Em beams as they lean into Adrian with excitement.

Sometimes, with the kids Adrian brings over, it only takes minutes before they break down, before they cry, before they bare their souls and beg for healing that the rest of the world refuses to give them.

And other times, most of the night is about fun, is about forgetting, is about living in a world they want to live in, if only just for one night, to sustain them, to get them through, to give them hope.

Tonight is a combination.

Because Em laughs at Adrian’s terrible jokes and they even laugh at Alex’s worse ones, but they all catch them with their eyes glued to their phone, always eager for a text, always sad when there, inevitably, isn’t one.

“She used to text all the time, huh?” Adrian asks when everyone’s just about done with pizza, just about ready for Alex and Maggie to bicker about vegan ice cream.

Em’s spine stiffens.

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want, I’m sorry,” Adrian starts, but Em shakes their head and fidgets with the hem of their sweater dress, with the collar of the shirt that they’re wearing under it.

“No, we can, I just… I don’t wanna bring down the mood.”

Maggie leans forward and shakes her head. “Danvers here is about to start insulting my dessert choices, Em: trust me, it’s not you who’s gonna bring down the mood.”

Em chuckles and nods, chewing the inside of their cheek, chewing on their words.

“I have this friend. This best friend. She’s been my best friend since we were ten. So, forever. Jessica, her name is. And she was there for me when I came out as gay, and she used my pronouns right away when I came out as genderqueer, and we used to… we used to talk all the time, text all the time… And she just got a boyfriend, and I’m an ass – sorry, can I say that? – because I should be happy for her, right?”

Em’s voice squeaks, and Maggie hesitates with her hand slightly above Em’s knee. Em nods and Maggie puts her hand down and squeezes supportively.

“And I am, she seems… he’s a nice guy, you know, but I’m such a jerk, because I love her, I’ve been in love with her since forever, and I should be happy for her, but now when we talk, it’s all about him, him, him, and I try to be supportive and all that, you know, but it’s killing me. It’s killing me, it literally feels like… I don’t know. I’m not trying to be overdramatic. I’m sorry. We don’t have to talk about me, I’m sorry, I – “

“Hey, hey, no, you’re okay. This is why Adrian brings all the baby queers here. You’re okay,” Maggie tells her, and Em accepts the napkin Adrian passes them to wipe their eyes.

“And you’re not being selfish, you know,” Alex chimes. “I used to…” She chews on her own cheek and stares at the table for a moment, collecting her words, her thoughts, her traumas. “I used to think the entire world rode on how much I devoted my life to my little sister. And I still do: devote my life to her. But before, it was… I thought that meant I couldn’t ever do anything for me. Feel anything. For me. I would push my feelings down because it was all about making her happy, only about that… and the balance is hard. I’m still figuring it out. But these two clowns help.”

“Oohh, don’t Alex, you know how I feel about clowns.”

“You and Winn should form a support group.”

Em and Maggie exchange a silent giggle at Adrian and Alex’s quips.

“But really, Em,” Alex turns her attention back to the new kid. “You’re allowed to be hurt. You’re allowed to be in pain. Not that she’s doing anything wrong, this Jessica girl, but you’re allowed to have feelings. And if you want to, you’re allowed to talk to her about them. She’s still your best friend, you know?”

“Is your sister still your best friend?” Em wants to know, terror in their voice.

“Yeah. Yeah, she is. And it’s different, obviously, you being in love with Jessica, but listen. It’s literally my job to figure out people’s strengths and weaknesses, basically just from looking at them. And you, Em? You’re made of strength. It’s going to be hard, getting through this. But you will. I promise.”

Maggie beams softly at her girlfriend and nods toward Adrian.

“Ade’s been gaga over his best friends more than once, and somehow he’s still in one piece.”

Adrian puts a dramatic hand over his heart, and the other over his forehead. “Barely. No but really, Em, Alex and Maggie are right. You’re gonna get through it: you’re not by yourself. Okay?”

Em breathes and looks from their surrogate older brother to their new queer moms, understanding and pride and faith resonating in each of their eyes.

They nod slowly, until a soft smile creeps onto their face.

“So. Vegan versus regular ice cream, huh?”

“Oh my god, now you’ve done it, they’re never gonna stop.”

And they don’t. But somehow, watching them laugh and tease and giggle and kiss is all the hope Em needs.