#bev is lesbian cause i said so

[vittra111]

Beverly marsh would have loved Chapell Roan

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Neil Johnston

Published: Jul 6, 2023

A controversial trans group’s legal battle to get a gay rights charity struck off has been dismissed by judges.

Mermaids, a charity for transgender, nonbinary and gender diverse children and their families, had taken the unprecedented legal action to remove the LGB Alliance from the charity register, in the first case of its kind.

However, Judge Griffin and Judge Neville from the General Regulatory Chamber dismissed the appeal on Thursday to have the LGB Alliance removed from the register.

Mermaids, which itself is facing a Charity Commission investigation, had claimed the LGB Alliance was a front for transphobia and political campaigning to prevent changes in the law and took both the charity and the watchdog to court.

The judges said that the law “does not permit Mermaids to challenge the decision made by the Charity Commission to register LGB Alliance as a charity”.

They said it was important to distinguish between the LGB Alliance and “the activities of those who simply support its cause” and added that the charity could “not be held responsible for the actions of a supporter” unless they had in some way organised, endorsed or actively encouraged any such behaviour.

The judgement noted that it was not the place of the tribunal or the Charity Commission to moderate public debate or beliefs.

Judges said that charities were entitled to hold different views, but could not expect to be free from criticism.

“However, there is no legal right to be free from criticism by those who disagree with you or to prevent those who hold beliefs that the law recognises as protected from expressing themselves or seeking to persuade others to their point of view,” they said.

However, the ruling added that applying the facts on a legal basis any impact emotionally or socially “is insufficient to provide them with standing to bring this appeal, no matter the depth of the feelings resulting from the Decision or the strength of their disagreement.”

Speaking to The Telegraph, Kate Barker, chief executive officer of the LGB Alliance, said Mermaids had orchestrated a “show trial” which had tarnished her charity’s reputation and prevented them from applying for grants.

She said: “In essence, if your views are so fragile that they can absolutely be destroyed by the truth, the only option left to you is to try and crush the speaker of that truth. I suspect that they knew full well that they didn’t have standing either but wanted this to be kind of a show trial where they thought perhaps it would be an opportunity to expose us for something that didn’t exist.”

Case was ‘bruising’

She described the case as “bruising” and said there were “a few cheerleaders who are very invested in the idea of seeing us not exist anymore”.

Ms Barker added that it would have been “anti-democratic” if Mermaids succeeded, adding: “I think it’s dangerous and there is something about it which is really mean-spirited which doesn’t sit particularly well with the broader values of the Charity Commission and of the charitable sector.”

She hoped people would start asking more questions. “I think the madness that has swept over our institutions, our charities and businesses. I think people will look back quite soon in a couple of years and think goodness how was that allowed to happen.”

The LGB Alliance was launched in 2019 by lesbians Kate Harris and Bev Jackson, in opposition to Stonewall, the long-standing LGBT charity’s stance on transgender issues.

The charities ‘fundamentally disagreed on trans rights’

During seven days of hearings last year, the tribunal in central London heard that the two charities fundamentally disagreed on issues of trans rights, with the LGB Alliance taking the position that you cannot change your biological sex.

Lawyers representing Mermaids claimed that the LGB Alliance had sought to undermine trans charities but Karon Monaghan KC, representing the defendant, said that Mermaids’ efforts to get the charity struck off were “profoundly homophobic”.

She said that during the hearing, Mermaids had suggested that words such as sexual orientation, sex-based rights, and lesbian, gay and bisexual were “used to signal position against trans rights”.

“This is deeply offensive, and it is profoundly homophobic, it is again the love that cannot speak its name,” Ms Monaghan told the tribunal.

She said that if that is the “stigma” attached to those words “it pushes same-sex attracted people back into the closet”.

Mermaids taking advice on appeal

A Mermaids spokesman said: “We are taking legal advice on whether to appeal the finding on standing. In the meantime, our focus remains on channelling all of our energies into the urgent, critical challenges facing trans young people today.

“This includes demanding access to timely healthcare and robustly challenging forthcoming trans guidance for schools which, if reports are true, could have devastating consequences not only for trans children and young people, but any young person who doesn’t conform to gender norms.”

Separately to the tribunal, Mermaids is subject to an investigation by the Charity Commission which opened a “regulatory compliance case” after an investigation by the Telegraph revealed safeguarding “red flags” in its dealings with children.

Iain Steele KC, representing the regulator, had argued it was up to the tribunal to decide on all the information which had come to light whether the LGB Alliance should keep its registration.

However, he said that just because the charities disagreed was not a reason to strip the LGB Alliance of its status.

The case was unusual and the first of its kind in the UK. Challenges to Charity Commission decisions are usually prompted by allegations of financial abuse or mismanagement, but this case required the judge to consider whether the purpose of LGB Alliance is “exclusively charitable for the public benefit”.

[ Via: https://archive.is/q7lSz ]

==

LGB Alliance was a front for transphobia

"Anything I don't agree with is literally Hitler transphobia."

"could have devastating consequences not only for trans children and young people, but any young person who doesn’t conform to gender norms.”

They're saying the quiet part out loud now.

Most GNC people are simply gay or bi. But this is the organization which opposed, rather than supported, an LGB charity and tried to have them shut down. It's hard, therefore, not to come to the conclusion that Mermaids has a vested interest in an unobstructed access to gay and bi people, and particularly kids, for its purposes.

Don't forget, Mermaids is under investigation for multiple ethics violations, including sending girls dangerous breast binders without their parents' knowledge. Other ethics breaches include pushing medical advice on kids, and ideologically directing the relevant health services, despite its representatives claiming under oath in the LGB Alliance hearing that they "don't do medical stuff," and having been found to have lied.

By: Katie Barker

Published: Jul 7, 2023

There’s something essentially mean-spirited about one charity attacking another. It’s not good for the sector, for the individuals or causes they support, and certainly not for public life. So we’re thankful that after almost two years of litigation and deliberation, LGB Alliance today secured its charitable status, which our opponents had sought to revoke – the first time in history that one charity has attempted to shut down another. 

We must remember that, however their respective charitable purposes are articulated, there’s no doubt they will have been set up to do good works. 

While the online attacks on LGB Alliance have been well documented in carefully crafted barbs, tweaked and refined to fit a character limit, the impact on the real world, beyond the vituperative cauldron of Twitter, is what really matters. LGB Alliance was set up by two lesbians, Kate Harris and Bev Jackson, in 2019. Seasoned campaigners for gay rights, they saw how same-sex attracted people were being disadvantaged by a new ideology which stated that gender, the way you feel inside or how you present to the world, trumps biological sex.

As people who are same-sex attracted, whose hard won rights were predicated on the understanding that our attraction is based on the biological and the physical, we believe that this is a fundamental attack on our rights. If we may not articulate our attraction or are forbidden the language to describe our unique experiences in the world, it is impossible to define or challenge the discrimination we may face. Lesbians, gay men and bisexuals have unique needs and LGB Alliance was set up to be a voice for them and to develop the services and support that meets those specific needs. 

It’s important to note that we would advocate for every individual, without exception, to have access to the support they need to thrive. And, despite being a new organisation and largely volunteer-run, we’re making impressive progress. We’re developing a Helpline for LGB young people, an LGB Archive to explore and celebrate LGB history and we’re creating Friends’ Groups, social hubs around the country to tackle isolation and loneliness. We campaign on issues that impact LGB people, with a particular focus on protecting children from the ideology that promotes unnecessary and often irreversible medicalisation.

We think most reasonable people would agree that these are worthwhile projects and aims, and would wish us well. 

The work of LGB Alliance is evidence based. We think that facts matter. Facts that just a few years ago would have been considered unremarkable are now almost unsayable. Facts such as that there are two sexes. And that homosexuals are people who are same-sex attracted. Statements like these, it seems, are an existential threat to those who would say that one should not speak the truth for fear of hurting the feelings of a person for whom the truth may be unpalatable. In our post-truth world, they would have you believe that up is down, black is white – and, yes – lesbians can have penises. 

The consequences for not believing, we discovered, are harsh. If your world is constructed around a belief system so fragile that dissent feels like an assault – not just on your opinion but on your person – it’s time to take a breath.

Our tribunal judgment makes a valuable point. Discussion and disagreement between charities isn’t just acceptable, it’s necessary. How else may we explore new ideas or wrestle with new challenges? The notion that one charity should seek to silence or shut down another charity because they disagree with them is absurd and anti-democratic and the tribunal were right to say that LGB Alliance should retain its charitable status.

We also agree with the Charity Commission that respectful debate is the key. Not just within the charity sector but across society more widely. It’s time to start talking again. We look forward to leading the way.

[ Via: https://archive.is/Mc8Cx ]

[whatever-the-duck]

I don’t think Byler will become canon - or, not in the way people think it will.

It’s cute and all, but I’ve been trying for a while to figure out what all this Byler chatter reminds me of, and I finally figured it out - it reminds me of Destiel and Reddie.

Spoilers ahead for IT (2017) IT Chapter Two (2019) and Supernatural.

Also, a disclaimer: I haven’t watched seasons 3 and 4 of Stranger Things, all my knowledge of Byler comes from @dont-open-dead-inside-25

So! First off, comparisons for Byler and Reddie. (IT 2 spoilers abound.)

IT and ST are both horror-type shows, and Stranger Things feels heavily inspired by IT. Bev and Nancy have the same energy, Pennywise and Vecna have the same energy, and Richie & Eddie and Will & Mike both have similar dynamics. Also, no matter what Cider says, Pennywise is not scrunkly. you know who is scrunkly? L Deathnote.

Anyway.

In IT 2, Eddie is killed after dramatically saving Richie from Pennywise, and it’s been a while since I saw the ending, but iirc it’s very heavily implied that Richie loved Eddie, but never said anything.

I think this happening for Byler is a possibility, but I think it’s more likely that they’re going to go the Supernatural direction.

Bear with me here.

So, we all know the Destiel confession meme - this one -

- but a little bit of context for those not familiar with Supernatural.

I’ve been on Tumblr for A While. I think I joined in... 2014 ish, specifically for the Supernatural stuff. I was one of Those People.

Dean and Cas had chemistry since Cas’s first appearance in season 4, but it really ramped up in the later seasons. I’m specifically remembering S12E12, Stuck In The Middle With You.

S12E12 contained a very dramatic scene in which Cas, having been stabbed in the abdomen by a magic spear, is about to die and says to Dean “I need you.” This caused some waves in the fandom, we took it as a sign that Destiel was becoming canon slowly.

I mean, we weren’t really wrong, but we weren’t exactly right either.

Anyway, further on in the show, Cas confesses that he loves Dean - explicitly stating, “I love you.” He then disappears forever.

“But Caff,” you say, “Stranger Things is inclusive! It has a canon lesbian character! Why wouldn’t Byler be canon?”

Well, friends, Supernatural also has a canonically lesbian character. Her name is Charlie, and we love her - and also, she died a horrible death, as all Supernatural characters eventually do. (Yes, even the main ones.) (Multiple times.)

For what it's worth, I do think Mike and Will are going somewhere in their relationship, but I don't think it's necessarily where everyone thinks it's going. I think that they're either going to have one of them confess, then one of them dies, or the other way around - one of them dies, then the other regrets never confessing.

Bury Your Gays is an old, overused trope, and I'm tired of seeing it - but I think it's going to strike once again.

Caff out.

[nblesbianbenhanscom]

So yesterday after I changed my url, @dysregulardyke said that people were probably waiting for my nb lesbian Ben Hanscom hcs, so here they are even though no one really asked.

Birth name: Bernadette, but everyone calls them Bennie as a kid

Pronouns are they/them, but feels all giddy when they get called ‘sir’ cause it’s better than ma’am.

Loves cuddling with their friends, but Bev especially

Will NOT go swimming in a pool, but definitely will swim with the losers at the quarry (although they keep their shirt on)

Loves doing stuff with their hands whether cooking with their mom or puzzles with Stan or building stuff. They love the sense of accomplishment.

Bowers is still a complete dick because Ben runs around with boys, has short hair, and wears boys clothes.

Ben is not scared of him though, and they are just as protective of their friends, Bev especially

Bev’s dad HATES them more than the boys but won’t say why because he doesn’t want to give Bev any ideas

Ben is grey aro ace

Like many, they are very confused and feel broken about their gender and sexuality

They don’t go on their first date until college

It’s fine until their date pushes sexy times

Their roommate finds them crying on the bathroom floor and is ready to go off

Ben doesn’t really understand their gender or sexuality until their roommate makes them join the GSA and once Ben has the words they shout them from the rooftops

They double major in architecture and sociology

They have The Best Advisor who is also trans

Ben is so scared to tell their mom, but their mom is so supportive and loving

They have one serious girlfriend with a woman named Kay after college but they break up because Kay needs something different than Ben can provide. They stay friends though because of course they do.

Ben loves making out with their partners

When Mike calls, they are so scared to go back to Derry

Everyone knew they were different but not why or how

Mike is beyond supportive and tells the other Losers when he calls them. He knows they won’t be dicks, but there is enough stress none needs to be added.

Richie still goes gaga over Ben because Ben is fucking Hot

He immediately apologizes when Ben tells him they are a lesbian while Bev just 👀👀

After Derry, Ben helps get Bev’s stuff from her ex’s and they move to Colorado where they have a huge house and and a few pets and the other Losers (Stan and Eddie included because ofc they live) come over and they all hang out and everything is good and there’s no more bad.

[moonlightrichie]

Reddie + in the rain + a bet, please

Thanks for the prompt! Don’t know if this is what you imagined, but I hope you like it ! ♡ This is a little inspired by the movie ‘Remember Me’. Also, this got kinda long. Enjoy!

READ ON AO3

Warnings: smoking weed, mentions of sex, uhh shitty behavior

Richie’s week didn’t exactly get off to a good start.

When he’d woken up Monday morning to take a smoke before heading off to school, he’d never pictured his week going the way it had.

It started mildly, Richie forgetting to check the student pages to see that his 8am class had been cancelled and he’d gotten up early for nothing. Then he’d ended up stepping in dog shit on his way back home and at the exact same time, the weather gods had decided it was a good idea to provide the earth with some pouring rain. He’d been soaked within five seconds.

Nothing too bad, but just enough to make someone go “I’ve just had a really long hard day” before grabbing a beer from the fridge and settling down in the couch to watch Netflix for the rest of the night. He’d ended up messaging Beverly to meet him in the park to smoke weed, her reply a stream of heart-eyes and thumbs-ups.

The two had met, sitting down on their designated bench for the night, burning joints between their fingers. Both of them loved the park at night, especially their usual spot that was located on the other side of where the hobos slept.

But his bad Monday hadn’t ended there. In fact, it had only gotten started. Because that was when a stranger had stopped before them, a woman seeming to be around 50.

“You can’t smoke that”, she’d said. “It’s illegal.”

Richie and Beverly, high off their asses, hadn’t been able to stop their laughter, the woman frowning down at their disrespect. If Richie had been a little smarter, he’d have put the joint down, apologized and gone home. But no, instead his high brain had had to make it worse.  

“I’m calling the police”, she’d muttered angrily before pulling out her phone.

Their laughter had stopped abruptly, both looking at each other desperately to figure out what they should do. Should they run? Try to convince the woman not to call the police?

Once again, had they been smarter, they’d have run. Instead though, dumb and disoriented as they’d been, they’d tried telling her not to call.

The woman had ended up not even having to call the police, because not even a second later, what appeared to be a cruising police car had driven by, stopping at the woman’s frantic gestures.

“Officers, I was just on my way home when I noticed these two…”

That was when they’d run for it, ending up with only making it worse.

If they’d just been a little smarter, they would have given themselves up paid a fine, but by running they’d bought one-way tickets into the cells for the night.  

Richie’s dad had had to pay bail for the both of them (“I’m taking this out of your inheritance, Rich”), and Richie had never felt more like a disappointment in his life.

It was Wednesday when Beverly came crashing into the group room where he was quietly studying (playing games on his phone) in the library on campus. “She’s got a son.”

Richie didn’t look up from his phone, barely paying attention. “Who?”

“That woman who busted us.”

He stopped, looking up at her. She was smiling like she was insane. “Okay?”

“You should ask him out.”

Doing a double take, he almost dropped his phone. “What?”

“Ask him out. Fuck him. Dump him”, Beverly was ticking the points off with her fingers.

Having no idea where she was going with this, he leaned back in his chair with a frown. “And why should I do that?”

“Revenge”, she said simply as if it was obvious.

“How is that revenge?”

She sighed. “I saw him, okay? She was dropping him off at school, and this uptight bitch has a super neat son, all ironed shirts and fucking gelled hair. She’ll hate that a guy like you not only touched her perfect little angel, but you broke his heart too, it’ll destroy her.��

Beverly was actually crazy.

“What the fuck?”

“It’s perfect!” She threw up her hands.

“Why can’t you date him?” he raised his eyebrows.

“Uh, ‘cause I’m a lesbian?”

Richie scoffed. “Yeah, but maybe he’s not into guys either, thought about that?”

Pursing her lips, she scratched at her chin. “Huh.”

“He can be straight for all we know.”

“Rich”, she sighed in frustration.

“No.”

“He’s cute”, she sang, rocking back and forth on her heels. “What’s the harm in trying?”

“I’m not going out with some choir boy.”

“Rich, he’s like totally your type, he’s…” She stopped abruptly, suddenly hitting his arm with her hand. “Oh my god, there he is!” She nodded her head towards the hallway.

“Fuck, why’s he gotta actually be cute, too?” Richie whispered too himself, hating how Beverly was right. Despite the proper clothing and neatly done hair, the guy didn’t give off the innocent nerdy vibe Richie had pictured when Beverly first described him. Instead his doe-eyes were fierce and bright as he sat down in one of the quieter corners of the library, lips pursing as he took out his notebook.

“Right?” Beverly tapped his shoulder. “Now go get ‘em, tiger.”

“No, no, no, no”, Richie panicked as she started dragging him out of his chair. “Bev, stop it right now.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine, you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

If Beverly hadn’t planned this whole thing asking the guy out, Richie probably would have put his moves on the guy on his own. Richie really couldn’t stop staring at him, soft freckled cheeks and with a gaze so sharp it could cut glass; he looked like a real rule-breaker.  

“I’ll give you 20 dollars if you kiss him before the week is over”, she muttered into his ear, a perfectly tweezed eyebrow rising as the challenge burned in her eyes.

“A bet?” he almost wanted to laugh. “Really?”

She shrugged. “Apparently revenge wasn’t good enough.”

He hesitated.

“Oh come on, Tozier, you’d get the best end of the deal: revenge, 20 dollars and a kiss from a cute guy.”

He hated to admit that she was right once again. Finally, he nodded his head, and before he even knew what was happening Beverly was pushing him harshly in front of the table where the cute guy was focusing on his schoolwork.

The guy didn’t even look up when Richie stepped up, clearing his throat.

He tried to look back at Beverly for help, but she was hiding behind Richie’s English book.

He cleared his throat again. “Uh, hi?”

“Can I help you?” the guy said monotonously, still not looking up from his book.

“Did you know that bending your neck like that is, like, super bad for you?” the words were out before Richie could stop them, “even giving blowjobs is better for your neck.”

Fuck, what the fuck was that? He wanted to jump out the window.

The guy finally looked up, stopping his scribbling in his book. Narrowing his eyes at Richie, he looked him over. “Excuse me?”

“Like”, Richie laughed nervously, “if you gave a blowjob to someone, it would hurt less on your neck than how you’re si-”

“No, yeah, I got that”, the guy interrupted, holding a hand up to stop Richie from finishing his sentence. “What I meant was, excuse me, but who are you?”

Richie took a bow, one hand on his stomach and one sticking out to his side. “Richie Tozier at your service.”

The guy sighed. “Okay, Richie Tozier, what is it you want?”

“Uh…” he choked up, tongue fumbling in his mouth for words.

“Cause it sounded like you were asking me for a blowjob”, the guy pressed his lips together, eyebrows rising.

Richie’s eyes widened. “No, no! I…”

“So you don’t want a blowjob?” and fucking hell, how the hell was Richie supposed to respond to that?

“Yes! Wait no! I mean you’re pretty cute, so I wouldn’t-, wait, fuck”, Richie stopped himself before he could embarrass himself even more. He took a deep breath, letting his shoulder sink in defeat. “I actually wanted to ask you out, but I say dumb shit when I get nervous. Sorry for bothering you.”

He started backing away, turning around with heat boiling in his cheeks. Never had he bombed so hard trying to pick someone up, but there was something about this guy that was extremely intimidating. Way too proper and good for someone like Richie. Richie, with his unwashed hair, chipped nail polish, broken glasses, crooked teeth and shoes with holes. He’d used those qualities to wow people before, girls finding the messiness somewhat charming.

There was really no chance that Richie could get a guy like that, and he wished he hadn’t let Beverly talk him into trying, embarrassment weighing heavily in the pit of his stomach.

“Okay, wait”, the guy’s voice tore into Richie’s thoughts, Richie turning around slowly.

“What?” he knew he sounded miserable.

The guy motioned him over with a finger, already starting to scribble something in the corner of his book. “I’m free tomorrow night.” He tore the corner off, reaching it out to Richie. “Here’s my number.” He was smiling now, eyes glinting. Oh boy was he out of Richie’s league.

Still, Richie took the note, looking at it with wide eyes before staring at the guy again. “I feel like you’re doing this out of pity.”

The guy laughed. “So what if I am? Are you going to take me out tomorrow or not?”

Nodding his head, Richie packed the note safely into his shirt pocket. “I am. You’re not gonna regret this.”

“I hope not”, the guy picked up his pencil again. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Hell yeah you will.” He started walking away before remembering something. “Hey, I never got your name?”

The guy looked up again. “Eddie.”

“Cute.” Richie winked before returning to a beaming Beverly, the two sharing a high five before leaving the library together.

Thursday night rolled around, and Richie was waiting outside the local pizza place, waiting for Eddie. He’d dressed as nice as he could: a button up that was actually one of his Hawaiian shirts only tucked inside his dark jeans instead of hanging loosely they normal. He’d washed his hair too.

“Hey”, a voice said to his right, and turning around, Richie’s gaze landed on Eddie, all dressed up in a silk shirt and dress pants. He was smiling at Richie.

“Hi.” Richie leaned down to give Eddie a quick kiss on the cheek in greeting, pushing his hands into his pockets.

The date went surprisingly well, Richie feeling much more relaxed after getting Eddie’s approval the day before, even if it was out of pity or not. He even forgot about the whole reason he’d had asked him out until Eddie mentioned his mom. Instantly, Richie’s chest felt like it was constricting, heart speeding up.

He hadn’t expected gaining genuine interest for the man in front of him, but Eddie was funny, smart and could actually keep up with Richie’s bullshit remarks, firing back just as easily as Richie fired out.

“I still live with my mom”, Eddie was dragging his finger over the top of his wine glass, going in circles as he talked. “She’s not very thrilled about the gay thing.”

Richie tried to swallow the lump in his throat with no success. “No?”

“She’s learning to live with it though”, Eddie stopped touching his wine glass, leaning his head in his hand as he looked at Richie with a smile. He laughed shortly. “Honestly I think she’d flip if she knew I was on a date with you right now.”

The lump only grew. “Oh?” he choked out, trying to seem casual. Normally he’d fire back with “that’s just ‘cause she’s jealous, Eds, she wants me all to herself”, but his heavy tongue couldn’t form the words.  

“Yeah,” Eddie looked him over with shining eyes. “Smelling like cigarettes and all that, not exactly her favorite scent.”

At this point the lump was so big Richie could barely breathe.

When they were done eating and talking, the two decided to walk for a bit together, Richie offering to follow Eddie some of his way home, too scared of Eddie’s mom to offer to walk all the way.

Their hands were brushing with every step, Eddie looking up at Richie every once in a while. Richie could feel the guilt in his stomach building with each second, being around Eddie feeling like too much.

“I think I’ll turn around here”, he muttered in the end, smiling down at Eddie, hoping it didn’t look too forced.

“Okay”, Eddie was smiling. “I had a good time.”

“Me too”, Richie’s forced smile turned more genuine at that; he’d really meant it.

The two stood looking at each other for a moment, and just as Richie was about to say his goodbye, a drop of cold water hit the tip of his nose. Confused, he looked up to the sky, more rain soaking his face, and within seconds, it was pouring, Richie already blind from his glasses being fogged up with droplets.

“Well, see ya”, Richie muttered, desperate to get away so he could breathe. He started to turn away.

“You’re not gonna kiss me?”

Richie stopped, face snapping up to meet Eddie’s gaze, disappointment heavy on his beautiful features. “What?”

“All that and you’re not gonna kiss me?” Eddie’s brows were furrowed.

Richie was struggling to come up with a response, Beverly’s bet ringing in his ears.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” was the only thing he could think of to say.

“Do you want to kiss me?”

He remembered the horrible night in the cell, his dad’s disappointed stare when bailing him out, the lecture of responsibility he’d received during the car ride home. He remembered the smug look on Eddie’s mom’s face when the police put Beverly and him into the backseat of the police car, the money he now owed his dad, taken out of his own inheritance. He remembered Eddie’s words: “she’d flip if she knew I was on a date with you right now”, and Richie felt some sort of satisfaction at kissing that terrible woman’s precious little son.

So Richie stepped forward, leaning down and capturing Eddie’s lips in a kiss, immediately kissing desperately and passionately with his tongue already licking into Eddie’s mouth. Their spit mixed in with the rain, their lips sliding together easily.

‘She’d flip. She’d flip.’

Oh she’d flip, alright. Eddie hummed, hands flying up to tug at Richie’s dripping hair, tongue quick to respond and meeting Richie’s just as desperately.

‘Not very thrilled about the gay thing.’

Too bad, he thought to himself. Your son is being gay with me right now, what are you gonna do about it?

They broke apart, Richie smiling down at Eddie.

“Wow”, Eddie breathed out. “Uh, will I get to see you again?”

‘Ask him out. Fuck him. Dump him’. Beverly’s voice rang in his ears. ‘She’ll hate that a guy like you not only touched her perfect little angel, but you broke his heart too, it’ll destroy her.’

Richie felt victorious, already pulling out his phone to text Beverly to send over the 20 bucks. “Absolutely.”

Tag list: @annoyingtozier, @spastuetheobsessedphylosopher, @constantreaderfool, @violetreddie, @rainbow-reddie, @tinyarmedtrex, @thundercatseddie, @deadlighten, @jesuschristsupruvestar, @queen-sock, @appojoos, @xandertheundead, @lifesucksheres20bucks, @that-weird-girls-blog, @atownofeggs

Let me know if you want to be added!

[kxhlzn]

[iii.] the birdwatcher & his lover.

➳ synopsis: it's the summer of '89, and you discover new things about yourself— some good, and some you wish you could swallow and never see again. dealing with the newfound confusion of sexuality, you must learn the ins and outs of friendship and what it means to grow up.

➳ genre: coming-of-age drama, ANGST, fluff, slight crack.

➳ characters/pairing(s): eventual stanley uris/reader, unrequited!bev/reader, eventual benverly, eventual reddie (possibly unrequited.)

➳ wordcount: 5.9k

➳ warning(s): profanity, sexual comments, ANGST, jokes about 80s AIDS, hurt feelings, fireworks (don't try this at home, kids!)

➳ song rec: flowers in your hair by the lumineers.

➳ author's note(s): sorry i made richie cry, i hate myself too lmfao. also i love stan. that's all. that's the post. give me some recs on what you'd like to see happen to them in the future! :)

July, 1989.

the rain is constant; pattering, almost as if it expects you to open your window and let it sneak into your bedsheets, like a sneaky, horny, little teenager. except, the only teenager creeping through your window tonight is mischevious richie tozier, head full of grand ideas and schemes.

his hair is sopping when he slams on the glass, and you nearly lose ten years of your life at the scare. most of the terror racing through you isn't because you're shocked by his presence, but rather you didn't really want him to see your arms full of letters and graham crackers. he stares at you a moment, his glasses dripping with water, as a single crumb trickles onto the floor from the corner of your mouth. you consider, for a moment, that he didn't see it, but from the small smirk that appears on his lips, you know you were caught. he's crouched on the roof beside your window, tapping his knee patiently.

you don't rush to make a move, either, as you both have a staredown; richie is uncharacteristically patient, you notice, and it makes you loosen your grip on the items momentarily. but then, richie slips, and you throw them all on the bed and make a break for the window. once you've tossed it open, richie is already steady, his hands splayed out at hip height. he's preparing himself in case he slips again.

"what do you want, trashmouth?" you quip, propping the window open. you glance at the surrounding area behind him, and the sky is a deep grey. the trees are heavy with water, puddles scattered across the ground. what on earth could he need at this time?

"so, i got this cool idea," he says, gripping the sill as he slides through the crack of your window. now, he's got water dripping all over the floor, and you scowl at him as he shakes his head like a dog, flinging droplets across your bedroom. "what if we buy fireworks?"

you don't miss a beat. "what?"

"like, you know, fireworks. for fourth of july? i might know a guy."

"seriously? that'd be so cool!" you say, picturing lighting off rockets into the sky, at the quarry. richie nods in excitement, collapsing on the floor beside your bed, leaning his head against your sheets. one knee is propped up, and his arm slings comfortably on it. the water drips onto his (for once) solid color grey t-shirt and plaided black pajama pants.

"right?" richie agrees, "you can thank me later. i already told 'im to buy them. 'said he'll get back to me soon. what are those?"

you blink at him a moment, and draw your attention to where he is focused. he's eyeing the pile of letters on your bed behind him, and he starts to get grabby as he digs through them.

you jolt forward, swatting at his hands. "they're, uh... letters? to? someone?"

"your pops?"

"what? no. well, actually, most of 'em, yeah."

"he ever respond to the ones you sent last year?" richie asks softly, peering at you when you take a hesitant seat on your bed, near richie's mop of hair.

"nope," you shrug, "but it's worth a try to send some more, ya know?"

"nah. you're trying too hard, babyface. you ever think that maybe it's time to toss the towel in?" richie's hand lands on your knee, but you jerk away from him.

"toss the towel in? what the fuck, richie?" you stand, quickly, and take a few cautious steps away from him.

"no, urgh, listen. i just hate seeing you hurt yourself like this—" he stands, too, stretching his long legs in a couple strides toward you.

"what's so fucking wrong with me writing a letter to my dad?"

"it's stupid! i just think—"

"you're just pissed 'cause yours sits a room away from you, and he talks to you less than mine!" you bite, and you immediately regret it, a sour flavor sitting on your tongue.

"fuck you!" richie barks, pointing an accusatory finger at you. his voice cracks in the process. "at least my dad bothered to stay! i wasn't so fucking bitchy that he disappeared into the night, not able to deal with having me for a kid!"

you want to snap back, but you're afraid your voice will betray you, so you merely open and close your mouth like a fish. richie's shoulders are heaving, eyes blown wide enough to rival the size of his actual face, with the glasses magnifying them so much. his fists are clenching and unclenching, consistently while you stand in tense silence.

"you're right," you whisper, mostly to yourself, and you cradle your arms against your chest. you lean up against your wall and slide down until your arms hug your knees. richie gapes, mutters out a few incoherent words, and then collapses in front of you, his hands on your arms.

"no, fuck, no, i shouldn't have said that. i didn't mean it. we're both tired, and hungry, and frustrated. that was such an asshole thing for me to say," he sputters out, and he pulls your head into the crook of his neck while he coos softly.

"it's okay, i didn't mean what i said, either. i think, i just, i know you were right about the tossing in the towel thing, but i.. i just don't think i'm ready to, you know?" you mumble into his shoulder, and he nods.

"that's okay, it was just a suggestion, babyface. you want to send him a letter? fuck it, let's do it."

"okay."

you spend the next ten minutes sealing the letters up, stamping them, and tossing them into your desk drawer for later. you sit comfortably in your chair, finishing up writing the address on the last one, when richie hums to himself.

"what?" you ask, spinning around to face him. he holds a letter up from his seat on your bed, sitting crisscrossed. his magnified eyes are glued to the words.

"nothing, you just missed one. except, it's not for your pops..."

"what do you mean? i didn't write one for anyone e—..." and it dawns on you. "richie, can i have that letter, please?"

"uh, yeah, nope... 'dear beverly marsh—'"

"richie, god, please!" you fling yourself at him, and he screams, throwing his hand up so you can't reach it while you climb over him. there are a few grunts as you dig various body parts into his flesh, grabbing for the paper, but he's not having it.

"why the hell are you— ouch! —writing a letter to bev?" richie questions, shoving at you a bit to get a good look at the piece of lined paper. "is it a looove letter?"

your silence forces you both to stop your movements, and the pink on your cheeks makes richie blink a few times.

"wait..." he begins, "does that.. do you.. do you like beverly?"

"what does that even mean? 'like'? of course i like her, she's one of my best friends! why wouldn't i? she's kind, and pretty, and one of the best people i know."

"yeah, okay, but do you want to stick your hand down her pants?"

"richard tozier!"

"well, you know what i mean."

"unfortunately, yeah, i do. but... that's not.. i can't, you know, like her like that. she's a girl," you squirm, scooting over to the headboard of the bed. richie leans up next to you, his shoulder bumping yours.

"so she's a girl. if she were a dude, would you do it?" richie presses.

"do what?"

"stick your hand—"

"beep, beep, richie!"

"what i'm saying is, if she were a guy, would you like her?"

"uh, i don't know, i guess," you admit, your hands in your lap. you bite your lip.

"then what's it fucking matter?" he asks, brows curved inward, "just admit it."

you blink at him, kind of understanding where he's coming from. you suppose you never could accept how you felt because it's the 80s, and you're in derry, so same-sex relations remain strictly platonic. you wonder if others have felt, or feel, the same way you do. maybe it's not so bad. maybe you can say it out loud, to someone.

"i have a crush on beverly marsh."

it feels empowering. like you could stand on top of your roof and scream it to the entire world, make everyone know that you, a small-town girl in maine, likes another girl. it feels empowering, but also incriminating— like you have something to hide, like you should be guilty for feeling this way.

guilty of what? loving another human being?

"well, shockingly, that's not the most lesbian thing you've ever said to me," richie quips.

"beep, beep, richie."

"anyway," he clicks his tongue, desperate to change the subject, "so the fireworks. what's your game plan?"

"right. well, we'll probably have to ask bill to tell eddie's mom that they're studying. you know how she gets when me or bev call— rant about how he can't hang with us 'cause we'll force him into an orgy 'n shit," you laugh dryly.

"wouldn't mind an orgy with her," richie whistles lowly.

"her, and who else? stan's mom? she's too high-strung for that."

"with my charms? pft, please," he replies, signaling down his body.

you roll your eyes. "oh, for sure, she'll be on her knees in no time."

"nah, she'd break a hip."

you laugh. "okay, focus— so you got the fireworks, bill's got eddie's mom—" ("he'd better share!") and everyone else should be able to make it. bev and ben can sneak out, and mike is pretty much free to go wherever. i can convince stan's mom that we're spending the night at bill's, with supervision. she likes me, but i can't be sure she won't think i'm trying to fuck the jew out of him."

"he wouldn't mind."

"seriously, richie, learn when to shut the fuck up," you scold, and he laughs, "anyways— do ya think mike could scrounge up a picnic again, or should i go over to bill's to make one? i think mike would want to do it..."

"yeah," richie yawns, and he leans on your shoulder. you sigh softly, sweep his hair away from his face, and slip his glasses off, onto the bedstand. "should prolly head home."

"no, it's pouring out. you've stayed here before," you tell him, pushing him off of you so you can turn the light out. by the time you've turned yourself around, he's hogging all of the blankets and you frown. rolling your eyes, you mutter something along the lines of "didn't get to eat my graham crackers", and you stash them under your desk.

crawling beside richie, you kick him with your leg as a sign to scoot his ass over, or else. he doesn't listen at first, but another heel in his side, and he's doing as he's told. (richie won't admit it, but he likes being the little spoon); you wrap your arms around his torso and poke his back with your nose as you prepare yourself for sleep.

after a few minutes, richie turns over slightly, glancing at your face. when he is convinced you've fallen asleep, he sighs softly and bites his lip— there are so many things he wishes he could tell you. so many secrets. after hearing you admit you like bev, he feels safer; like someone can relate to him, like he's not alone. it would be the first time he ever admitted it, even to himself.

richie doesn't know you're even listening, but having you next to him makes it easier to say out loud. "okay, so uh, listen... i think.. i think i'm like you, okay? i think i like..."

he's quiet for a moment, but now you're focused; you hadn't been asleep yet, but this is odd of him. you sigh, and snuggle up against him. "eddie. it's okay."

his breath hitches, and he chokes out a "yeah". you think he's fallen asleep after, but you hear small sniffling, and you can't help but tear up too. your grip on his chest tightens, a sign that you hear him and understand. he flips his body around, and suddenly, rather aggressively, pulls you against him, his face in the crook of your neck. his small tears melt into sobs, and yours soon follow suit.

"it's okay, it's okay," you coo, combing your fingers through his hair. he sounds so hurt, so painfully heartbroken. but, so do you.

"is there something wrong with me?" richie cries, the droplets creating a pool in the skin of your neck, "with us?"

"i don't know," you reply, your shoulders shaking, "oh, god, i don't know."

how badly you wish you did; if not to ease your own pain, but most especially his. richie tozier did not deserve to be crying in your arms in the dark, because he fell in love with his best friend. he deserved a much better love story than that.

—

over cereal the next morning, you and richie don't talk much. you're both reeling from the many emotions that were expressed last night, and you're afraid if one of you speaks, it will spoil everything.

your stepfather and your mother are speaking in the other room, and you hear the pattering of footsteps — loud ones, at that, a sure one it's your stepfather — as he walks into the kitchen to pour himself a mug of coffee. he looks as dead as the two of you.

"hey, kiddo, i need you to take the trash out when you're done," he says, glancing at you. it takes him a moment to register that richie is sitting across from you. he gets an eyeful of him, and shrugs nonchalantly, "hey, rich."

"yo," richie replies, stuffing another spoonful of cereal into his mouth. the two stare at each other briefly, before your stepfather becomes bored and pads off into the other room to inform your mother of richie's presence, as she wasn't aware. you hear her nearly shriek, worried that the house isn't clean enough for guests.

"it's fine, mom, it's just richie," you raise your voice so she can hear you, "he literally doesn't care. like, at all."

she says something back, but you don't catch it, as you stand from the table and put your bowl in the sink. richie follows suit.

"so, um... i'll call bill, you handle the, you know, and then i can head over to stan's to let him know the plan. you got everyone else?" you quip, and richie smirks at you.

"you need to take the trash out, kiddo. but, yeah, i got everyone else."

"okaay," you reply, groaning.

richie leaves a few minutes after, through your window, for dramatic effect. you tell your parents he left through the second living room, a sliding door to the backyard in it. they accept it.

calling bill is easy; he always answers, (as he is always home and his parents don't care much for the phone), and rather quickly, too. it's easy to convince him, as well, as he's kind of excitable. he agrees to free eddie.

you call stanley, next. his mother picks up, and you curse to yourself. she's a hard nut to crack.

"hi, mrs. uris!" you tell her it's you, and you swear her tone becomes a bit sharper, but she stays polite. as is the way of jews.

"hello there, sweetheart."

"is stanley home?"

"yes, he is," she replies, you smile. he's always home, too, if he's not birdwatching.

"... could i speak to him?"

"oh! yes," she says, and she barks his name quietly, a sign that he was probably walking past her when you asked.

you tap your foot as there is brief movement on the other end, and stanley breathes into the phone just a millisecond before he speaks.

"hello," he says softly.

"hi, stanny! you free today? great!" you chirp cheerily, smiling against the telephone.

"o-oh, uh, yeah—"

"i thought we already established that."

"oh. um, yeah, i guess.. we have," he sounds dejected.

"kay. i'm coming over."

"what? wait, okay—"

you hang up, and hop slightly as you turn yourself around to grab your things. once you've gotten them, you head out to the place stanley calls home, a small house right outside of the synagogue.

you knock on the screen door at the back of the house and bounce on your heels as you await stanley. the locks on the door rattle briefly, and he's there, pushing open the door to let you in. you thank him and slip off your shoes in the entrance.

"so, you wanna hear about what we're doing tonight?" you say happily, poking his shoulder with a giant grin on your lips.

he swallows. "okay..."

you capture a handful of his collar, and pull him closer to you; he turns beet red. "we're gonna light off fireworks! but i gotta tell your mom we're staying at bill's."

"what? are you guys insane? that's dangerous!" stanley whisper shouts. he looks at you in complete and utter bewilderment.

"i know!" you cheer, "it'll be a blast!"

"no, i'm not doing that!"

"pleaaaase?" you beg, giving him puppy eyes, "it won't be fun without you."

he rolls his own. "no! that's ridiculous!" stanley crosses his arms, glances at your sweet face, and huffs dramatically. "ugh! fine! only because i don't want any of you doing something stupid. mostly you, because you're accident-prone."

"you know me too well, uris," you whisper sappily, and give him a strong hug. he refrains from doing it back for a second but sighs and wraps his arms around your shoulders.

"stanley!" mrs. uris calls out sharply, and she shakes her head stiffly at him. you immediately take a few cautious steps away from him. "what on earth are you doing?"

"i, uh, was just hugging her because..." he trails off slowly.

"my grandma died," you spit out.

"oh! goodness, when?" mrs. uris asks, putting down her basket of laundry.

"um—" you think of a random time, and say, "last night."

unfortunately, stanley says "this morning" simultaneously.

you glance at each other.

"last night," stanley says, "i forgot, and thought it was this morning."

"oh," mrs. uris mutters, "goodness, child, you almost had me thinking you just hug that girl for the sake of it."

"yeah, nope, i would never," he agrees, "she has like, um, ...cooties."

when the high-strung woman finally skitters away, you and stan release a breath.

you're the first to speak. "cooties, stanley? really? that was your genius idea?"

he throws his hands up in defense. "i'm sorry! it was the only thing i could think of. i couldn't say AIDS!"

"i think AIDS would have been more redeemable."

"hardly!" he exasperates, "'cause then she'd think you're a homosexual man with a sex addiction under that skirt and scrunchie!"

you break out into a fit of laughs and shove stanley's shoulder. he shoves you back, and then you're both laughing.

"what? so how am i supposed to convince her to let you come with me to bill's when she thinks my grandma just died and i have cooties?" you inquire as you both step into the main section of the house and prepare to enter the living room.

"with slow coaxing and distance."

—

somehow, all of the losers are able to come— with slow coaxing and distance.

a symphony of crickets echoes down the dirt path, matched with the small pattering of eight pairs of feet. the bugs' song drowns out eddie and richie's bickering at the front of the group, but soon, stanley's soft voice joins in. the sun has already dipped low past the horizon, coating the sky in a hazy blue-grey, but the large trees block out the color significantly. the greenery tickles at your ankles, sly weeds brushing up against you.

a few feet in front of you, stan's pearly whites sneakers kick up rocks, a thin powdery layer of dust residue sliding around the heels, and coating the sides. his laces are neatly tied, and he has taken extra care to tuck the ends away to avoid them from collecting dirt; a signature, and neurotic, move on his part. his socks are a snowy white, and nearly match the pale tone of his calf. almost as if he might turn suddenly and catch your prying eyes, you scrape them to the heavens, admiring the stars that begin to trickle into the blanket above you. you are startled as eddie shrieks, and you manage to catch a glimpse of richie waving a handful of mud from the mucky dissolve at the end of the path, which must have been created during the rainfall yesterday.

"that's literally so disgusting! no! richie, if you fling that at me, i swear to fuck—!" his voice heightens to a womanly pitch, as he withers back from richie's sopping palm. in turn, he snickers devilishly as he circles around eddie like a vulture, with stanley's disapproving expression prominent on his boyish face.

"do you realize how sick i can get from that, huh? flesh-eating bacteria can get into my fucking cornea if a rock cuts my eye!" eddie nearly wails, throwing his hands up to protect his face. richie makes inhumane sounds following eddie's spring for the opening up ahead.

bill shakes his head contently, mirrored nearly identically by beverly and mike. you glance around at the meadow, and your heart skips a beat when you catch sight of a small glow up ahead, hovering just above a patch of flowers.

you squeal and push past the others to get a closet look at the fireflies now littering the meadow. you like to catch them, but not with malice— you capture them, and let them crawl on your hands until they decide to fly again. you giggle, spinning around, arms wide open, admiring the plethora of them.

they're everywhere, and you're in your own personal utopia. richie appears next to you, and he allows a firefly to land on his finger. "hey, watch this."

you eagerly grin as he moves his other hand over the bug, and then— he crushes it, wiping the glow across his skin. you gape at him, and then scowl. "richie, you're such a dick! it was innocent!"

"yeah, but my skin glows!" he replies, showing his hand to the others. none of them are amused, as they peer at your now heartbroken expression.

"that was harsh, rich," bill says, shaking his head in disappointment.

"i thought it was cool," richie mumbles, adjusting his glasses.

you roll your eyes at his response and continue to gaze off into the dark at the glowing bugs. you manage to capture one and cup your hands as you march over to stanley.

"hey, hey, check this out," you tell him, and he cranes his neck to watch as you open your hands, and show him the lightning bug. he slowly reaches out, and it crawls onto his forefinger. "isn't he so cute?!"

"yeah, definitely," stan agrees. the glow from the bug as he raises it up to face reflects off his nose, illuminating some stray freckles on the bridge. his eyes are lit up to match, and they never leave the insect, even when it ultimately makes its flight elsewhere.

"hey, lovebirds! come help me collect some sticks! or should i wait 'til y'all are done gushing over a bug?" richie barks, raising his arms, which are full of twigs, for what you assume is a fire.

"we're not—" stanley begins, but richie is already turned away and focused on something else.

you toss stan a bashful grin. "c'mon, birdboy. 'm sure mike brought marshmallows 'n stuff for s'mores."

"wait—" stanley says suddenly, voice risen uncharacteristically as he grips your arm. when he's positive he has your full attention, he drops contact with you, and stares at the grass below. "u-um, i got you something. i-it's not like anything big, you know, just like.. i saw it, and thought of you, or, er, us."

you blink at him. "you didn't have to—"

"—no! uh, i mean, no. i wanted to," stanley replies, fishing into the pocket of his khaki capris. there, he turns over two bracelets— they're woven, some sections tan and others colorful. there are two short brown strings at the latch on both of them.

"oh, my god, stan!" you say quietly, sticking your wrist out happily. you're grinning, and you can't explain the butterflies in the pit of your stomach or the heat rising to your cheeks. "they're so cute!"

"heh, thanks," he says, stepping forward to slip the bracelet over your wrist. it feels oddly intimate. "i, uh, it's not much, but.."

"no, no, i love it," you chirp, keeping a hold of his hand while you admire the charm. your grin reaches your eyes as they rise to meet his. the feelings expressed by simply the contact of your gazes sends rushes of excitement into your bloodstream. "i'll never take it off. not once."

then stanley suddenly stares into the sky, his lower lip tucked under his teeth. his brows are now curved in concentration. "d-don't look at me like that."

"like what?"

"like this is the best present you've ever gotten. l-like this is the happiest you've ever been."

"it is," you say softly, "this bracelet means the world to me. i've never felt so cared about, not ever."

you take the second bracelet from his hand that remains stretched out, like he's offering the jewelry. you slip it onto his wrist, and use it to pull him into a warm embrace, your arms wrapped around his neck. your right hand rests on the flesh of it, a few curls brushing against your skin.

"thank you, stanley."

your entire being buzzes incessantly as he accepts your gratitude, and you pull away. the air hitting your chest leaves you chilly, the empty kind; disconnecting with him now feels like abandoning the other half of your body, and leaving it frozen in place. you feel as though without him you will always be cold. the empty kind.

richie makes short work of the fire, relaying a grand story about his survival in the woods at six years old, and his incomparable courage that winter. the flames are low and small, but no one dares tell him to stoke them or toss in some leaves for an extra shove, as he seems so content with the low burn as it is. you all subtly cuddle up next to each other, but bill is the most obvious, physically— he scowls and wraps his arms around himself while eddie is vocally unhappy.

beverly leans into ben, subconsciously, and the sweet boy glows brighter than the fire, his skin illuminating a deep red, like an apple. beverly's scarlet hair, in turn, rivals the fire as it roars. her hair, and the way it is ruffled and sharp with each sliced strand, resembles the flames as they lick up towards the sky. the reflection of the campfire makes it burn ever the more vibrant, and it melts onto the skin of her freckled shoulders and nose.

you're cut from your stupor when richie nudges you, and he whispers, "you're staring", as though you weren't already aware. the others don't catch on, fortunately, as they all listen intently to the process of shelving meat, as expressed by mike. you find it riveting, really — as riveting as the tale of processed and packaged animal flesh can be. a silence ensues once richie makes a horrible joke about vegans, and then he clears his throat awkwardly.

"so, fireworks? who dares me to blow one up eddie's ass? maybe it'll get the stick outa there," he chirps, and eddie shrieks and chucks a stick at him.

richie smirks at him and tells him to follow him so they can fetch the fireworks and eddie reluctantly agrees. they scatter off, and you watch contently as they bump shoulders. your brows draw in, a bit depressed by the two of them— how badly you wished they knew. how badly you needed them to know they were everything you dreamed to be.

while you all wait for eddie and richie, ben and beverly disappear behind the trees to go explore this stream ben had found. he told her he felt very poetic being near it, which he had hoped would signal something to her, but she hadn't noticed. in the meantime, you and stanley stay by the fire and discuss his journal, as he gushes about a ruby-throated hummingbird, and shows you a light sketch of one — he shaded the throat, and it makes you smile. he's certainly improved on his work, and you feel a rush of pride break through the dam of your chest.

"stanley, you've really been practicing," you tell him, running your index finger over the graphite lining the yellow paper, "i can tell it's a bird this time! and it's not having a heart attack!"

he nods in approval, and he takes a second to realize you were referring to the first time you met when you told him his art looked like it was having a health scare. his dull eyes blink at you momentarily, like he's trying to figure you out or understand you— and it dawns on you that he's not thinking about the drawing anymore— but rather, he's trying to understand you as a whole— as though you are some sort of puzzle he can't quite put his finger on.

stan's attention retreats back to the journal, flipping occasionally to the next page and reading the notes he's taken on each bird. when your eyes drag down his face, you feel a twinge in your stomach— there's simply something about stanley uris that you can't quite put your finger on, either, and you rather like that about him; it gives you space to unravel and discover each day. you always feel like you're learning something new and jarring about him, and you like to think that gives him depth.

however, his face holds something harsh and cold— something that remains constant, despite the circumstances of his mystery— and it's the sadness. it's the sadness and the fatigue, written like scars across every inch of flesh, a consistent tattoo of sorrow. he's imprinted with it, as though it's simply the base coat on the canvas of his life— and it hurts you, seeing him sad. and it's worse knowing that you don't think you've seen stanley uris any other way.

and you consider, briefly, just for a striking moment— that maybe he's only sad when he's looking at you.

stan recounts a conversation he had with a girl in your shared english class, persephone— known universally as percy — an introverted blonde girl, who has a curious knack for all things odd and quirky. she likes to wear lacy, flowy dresses, and unusual jewelry. she has a rather soft voice, like listening to a cloud speak— and she too enjoys birds. he says it's been a while since he's had a decent talk with someone about the animals, and that he's happy she appears genuinely interested and engaged in the topic. you aren't surprised, by this, though; you half expect percy to be some sort of angelic tree nymph.

you open your mouth to reply to his story, a bitter tang of jealousy on your tongue you don't recognize, but richie tozier beats you to it. almost to your relief.

"what's up, whores?! you ready to blow this place up?" he calls out, raising some fireworks, with exhausted eddie dragging behind him. he looks like he wants to swallow gunpowder and then a match.

you find yourself beside him, hands on his shoulders. he's too tired to even remove them. "eds, what the hell happened to you?"

his eyes are hazy. "richie thought it would be smart to go through the shit path, and now i've probably got seven diseases, at least."

richie smirks. "didn't want to go the usual way. woulda got caught by the po-po."

"you're a handful, tozier," you say.

"you love it," he replies, blowing you a kiss.

"you got me."

the rest of the night is soft chaos; richie lights off the fireworks, and they burst in bright and vibrant colors, lighting up the night. the air is crisp and free, and the grass between your toes is heavenly. you become drunk on your youth, an alcoholic in your own right. you wonder, briefly, if this is the peak— if this is the highest point of your life, if this is what you're meant for. if you're the peter pan of your successful friends, if they will all grow to be everlasting lovers and soulmates.

if this is where your journey with them ends.

and, by god, watching the way beverly looks when she's in her element, dancing barefoot with the rest of you— the way they all gaze at her like she's some sort of angel, some sort of saving grace. the way you gaze at her. how your chest aches. how it burns, to be amongst her beauty, to be jealous and insecure and in love all at once. your feet buzz with the shake of the earth, the fire in the sky. your skin sears, like ashes racing to compete. at this moment, you swear you feel your entire being burning alive.

and it is exhilarating.

and as you watch them, hooting and screaming and letting their voices be heard, you feel infinite. like the world is putty in your hands, like they are the most exhilarating people you'll ever know and you'll spend the rest of your life just settling. and your heart calms, because suddenly everything is simple; you want to hang out with these people until the end of time.

and stanley, the way his curls glow under the fireworks— the way his skin shimmers in possibility. the sadness so present in his face has faded, like he's suddenly hazy and thoughtless. his movements, they're slow and unsure, like he's seconds away from making a fool of himself. but he's beautiful— like some sort of saint— stanley is the human form of apollo, he's the sun himself. apollo— you crave that for him. and his soil eyes stray from the others and meet your excitable ones; his expression is not blank, but rather glowing. you can't define a single emotion on it, but rather a feeling. one that doesn't have a word. one that just is.

and he's looking at you like you're a goddess— you, with a crown of flowers sewn into your chaotic head of hair, you, with your flowy skirt and bare feet— and you know no one has ever looked at you like that. it sparks something in you, something luminescent and empowering. and god, he glows. that boy glows.

and it hits you both at the exact same time, like a comet striking the earth— an epiphany in the form of a human.

i want to hang out with this person until the end of time.

and maybe, you consider, just for a moment, almost a guilty thought—

he wants to hang out with you, too.

is that so bad to wish for?

a person to spend the rest of your youth with?

a person to spend the rest of your life with?

a person to call your own?

and by god, you want it to be him.

let your cries shake the earth, if it isn't.

[🌿] taglist:

@hannarudick @cedricisnotonfire @russian-romanova

[hollymartinswrites]

Chapters: 2/2 Fandom: IT - Stephen King, IT (Movies - Muschietti) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh Characters: Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier, Ben Hanscom, Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough, Mike Hanlon, Original Child Character(s) Additional Tags: Fix-It, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-IT Chapter Two (2019), Domestic, Light Angst, Family Feels, Childhood Trauma, Adoption, Kid Fic, Adopted Children, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Marriage, Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier Are Parents, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Minor Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Beverly Marsh & Richie Tozier Are Best Friends Summary:

Eddie and Richie embark on the most terrifying experience of all—parenthood.

Or, the author desperately needed a domestic, family fix-it for Richie and Eddie.

Chapter II: A look into Richie and Beverly's friendship as parenthood is thrown into the mix.

“How many godfathers can one kid have?”

“Richie, we’re agnostic.”

“Hey, I believe in God, I just don’t trust organized religion,” Richie replied, hanging the framed Princess Leia poster before stepping back to observe it. “Or any organizations, now that I think about it.”

“It’s crooked. Move it to the right like an inch,” Eddie said. “And she doesn’t need godparents.”

“Course she does,” Richie said, maneuvering the frame slowly as if it were a tempermental bomb. “I mean, obviously Bev will be godmother and I guess that means Ben should be godfather but we can’t play favorites with the guys like that.”

“Did you have godparents? And it’s straight now, quit messing with it.”

“Yeah,” Richie said. “My great uncle Jim and my mom’s cousin Valerie. I’ve told you about her before. She took me to my first Pride when I was twenty because surprise, she was a lesbian and no one knew. Even though she and her roommate Laura shared a one bedroom apartment in New York.”

Eddie laughed and shook his head.

“I’d pay money to see you at Pride as some lanky, awkward kid,” he said.

“Oh man,” Richie said, grinning, “I was such a twink back then.”

“And what the hell are you now?”

Richie shrugged.

“I don’t know. Sloppy otter? Is that still a thing?”

“You’re asking the wrong guy,” Eddie said. He gazed around the room and his smile widened. “I gotta say, this is a pretty awesome kid’s room.”

“Hell yeah it is,” Richie replied, stepping beside his husband and putting his arm around his shoulders. “She’s gonna love it.”

They were both silent for several long moments, content to simply be in one another’s presence in their child’s room when Richie squeezed Eddie’s shoulder.

“I can’t believe it’s finally happening,” he admitted softly.

“I know,” Eddie agreed. “You’re gonna be a good dad.”

Richie colored briefly before gently hip-checking Eddie.

“So are you,” he said.

Eddie merely smiled.

Richie picked up the phone on the second ring.

“Bev!” he shouted.

“Richie!” she shouted back, laughing. “How are you?”

“Oh, you know, exhausted, covered in glitter, and haven’t showered in days,” he replied. Lydia lifted up her latest drawing and he gave her a thumbs up. She grinned and grabbed another piece of construction paper. “So just like college all over again.”

Bev laughed.

“I wish we went to college together,” she said wistfully.

“Oh, we’d be expelled instantly if some university was stupid enough to accept both of us,” he said. “So what’s going on?”

“Well, I finally had time to sit and watch all the videos you sent yesterday,” she answered. “And I have to say, Lydia is the sweetest, smartest, cutest kid I’ve ever seen.”

“Aw,” Richie said. He moved the phone away from his mouth and loudly whispered, “Lyds, my friend Bev thinks you’re cute and smart and sweet.”

“Who’s Bev?” Lydia asked.

“My friend, you’ll meet her soon.” Richie returned the phone to his ear. “When are you and Ben coming by?”

“Soon, I hope,” she said. “Ben’s finishing up a big project but this summer should be free and clear. What about the other Losers?”

“I don’t know, I want to do a BBQ with all of you so you can meet Lydia at the same time,” he said.

“I don’t like BBQ,” Lydia pointed out. “I like macaroni and cheese.”

“I’ll make macaroni and cheese, I promise,” Richie said.

“You cook now?” Bev asked.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” he shot back. “I had been surviving on my own for twenty years, thank you.”

“I just can’t believe you’re a dad now,” Bev sighed wistfully.

“Well, you better believe it because I lost the receipt so this kid is nonrefundable,” he said, reaching out and tussling her hair, causing her to playfully bat away his hand.

Bev laughed.

“You sound happy, you know that?” she said.

Richie blinked. He hadn’t really thought about it but he supposed he was. A warm wave filled his chest.

“Yeah, I guess I am,” he said, clearing his throat.

“Am I making Trashmouth emotional?”

“No way,” he insisted. “I never get emotional and I definitely did not cry when we watched Moana the other night.”

“Yes, you did, Papa!”

“Shh!”

Bev laughed again and Richie grinned.

“Don’t worry, Ben cries at everything so your secret is safe with me,” she said. “I’m going to talk to him tonight about vacation days. You have to let us know when you’re free, though.”

“We’ll make it work, don’t worry.”

“Yeah, but I know Eddie’s always busy at work and you two are the ones with a kid.”

“We’ll make it work,” Richie repeated.

“I feel kinda bad though,” Bev admitted. “Won’t Lydia be overwhelmed by a welcome party filled with grown-ups?”

Richie blinked again. He hadn’t thought about that. He glanced at his daughter, happily tracing her hand on a piece of pink paper and swallowed.

“She has some friends from her school,” he said slowly. “I can invite them for her.”

“I just don’t want her bored or frightened,” Bev continued. “I remember the few times my dad took me to see family, I was the only kid. I hated it. Everyone talking over you and then yelling if you dared to look bored.”

Richie swallowed again and looked down at the table. He had always hated it when Bev spoke of her father but he was smart enough to know to shut up and listen.

“Anyway,” she said brightly, “I just want her to have fun.”

“She will. We’ll make it fun.”

“And Ben and I already got her a bunch of presents.”

“Oh no,” he groaned. “We specifically said no presents.” Lydia’s head immediately shot up, eyes wide and bright. “She’s spoiled enough as it is.” Lydia shook her head fervently.

“And send us her size, I saw some super cute clothes the other day,” Bev continued.

“Bev, no—”

“Yes, Richie,” she insisted. “I love you but I’m ignoring you.”

“Bev, I swear—”

“I gotta go,” she said quickly. “I love you, Trashmouth.”

Richie sighed but smiled warmly.

“I love you, too,” he replied gently.

“And I love Lydia even without meeting her yet.”

Richie’s heart did something intense, and it knocked the breath out of him.

“Richie?”

“Yeah, no, thanks, Bev,” he said quickly.

“Alright,” she said, laughter in her voice. “I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

Richie placed his phone on the table and tried to gather his thoughts. It was harder than usual.

“Look at this one, Papa,” Lydia announced, lifting another colorful and glittery drawing. A large percentage of said glitter slipped off and fell onto the table. “Oops.”

“That’s a beaut,” he said and sniffed. “My friend Bev said she loves you.”

“That’s nice,” Lydia replied. “And she bought me presents?”

“Yeah, but you don’t need anything.”

“But maybe she got me something I don’t have,” Lydia pointed out.

“Airtight logic, as usual, kiddo,” Richie admitted.

Lydia smiled and clapped her hands together in an attempt to clear them of glitter, frowning when it did nothing.

“I think we gotta hose you down,” Richie observed. He glanced at the clock. “And soon, before your dad walks in and has a conniption.”

“What’s a conniption?”

“It’s what happens when your dad comes home and sees what a mess your papa has made,” Richie answered, standing. “Come on, let’s get you and all of this cleaned up.”

Richie finished loading the dishwasher, closed it, set it, and immediately sat down in the closest chair, suddenly exhausted. He barely flinched when he felt arms curl around his shoulders and a chin rest on the top of his head.

“You okay, buddy?” Bev asked gently.

“Yeah, just tired,” he replied. “Too much excitement for one day.”

Bev nodded and leaned down to place a kiss on his head.

“You sure you’re good?” she asked again.

“Yeah, but just...can you do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Can you tell me if my hair is thinning up there?”

Bev laughed and flicked his ear.

“No, it’s as thick and messy as ever,” she replied. “But you do still have a fivehead.”

“Shut up.”

Bev squeezed his shoulders and then sat in the empty chair closest to him. A golden glow from the setting sun streamed through the open windows, and they could hear the rest of the party—Losers catching up and laughing and children shrieking with delight at whatever delighted five-year-olds—but it was mercifully quiet in the kitchen.

“I’m glad you invited her friends,” Bev said. “She needed some people her age to counterbalance all of us boring grown-ups.”

Richie nodded.

“Yeah, but she had fun with you and Ben earlier,” he said. “I guess she’s used to being the only kid around with just me and Eddie.”

“Do you think you guys will adopt again?”

Richie swallowed and shrugged.

“I don’t know, I mean, we’re still getting the hang of having just one kid,” he sighed. “But I wouldn’t want her to be an only child. They’re kinda weird, no offense.”

Bev laughed.

“They’re also lonely,” she pointed out, “so I wouldn’t recommend it for her, either.”

Richie felt compelled to hug her but settled for taking one of her hands in both of his, resting them on the table. They were both silent for a long moment, and he tried to ignore the fact that Bev was gazing at him expectantly before he cleared his throat.

“Bev, I…I’m scared.”

She quirked her head to the side and gazed at Richie with mild confusion on her face.

“Scared of what, Rich?”

“Fucking everything,” he admitted, not meeting her eyes. “What if I’m in over my head?”

Bev squeezed his hands.

“I’m not a parent,” she offered gently, “but I think that’s a common side effect.”

Richie sighed and shook his head.

“And you’re not doing this alone,” Bev continued, reaching out with her free hand to brush a strand of hair behind his ear. “You’ve got Eddie. The two of you are doing a great job. You can tell just by looking at Lydia.”

Richie’s chest tightened.

“Lydia’s amazing,” he admitted. “But she was amazing when we adopted her.”

“Rich—”

“And Eddie...” he swallowed and looked up at Bev, “I’m scared I forced him into something he didn’t want.”

Bev appeared genuinely shocked.

“Richie, that’s impossible,” she insisted.

“I don’t know.”

“Do you think for even one second Eddie would move across the country and endure years of all that bureaucratic bullshit and constant, needling, in-depth assessments from social workers for something he didn’t want?”

Richie swallowed and looked down again.

“He loves you,” Bev said gently, leaning in closer to her friend, “but he doesn’t love you that much.”

That startled a laugh out of Richie. He wiped at his nose and sniffed. Bev used her free hand to wipe at his face.

“You’re just tired,” she observed. “Tired and overwhelmed at having all of us here and showing off Lydia.”

“Hey, do you guys have any...what’s going on?”

They both looked up. Ben was standing in the doorway looking not unlike a deer caught in the headlights.

“Nothing, nothing,” Bev said quickly.

“Yeah, nothing, just your girlfriend bullying me about my forehead, that’s all,” Richie replied. Ben smiled but he still looked unconvinced. Richie continued, “You need something, dude?”

“Oh, yeah, just wanted to grab a drink,” Ben said.

Richie motioned towards the fridge and Ben opened it, reached in, and pulled out a juicebox. He glanced down at it in his hand and then smirked at Richie, his eyebrows raised.

“Hey, don’t knock it, mix that with a little vodka, fucking delicious,” Richie insisted. “That’s how I get through Lydia’s gymnastics classes.”

Bev smirked and slapped him lightly on the knee, earning a yelp from Richie. Ben shook his head, still smiling, closed the fridge door, and immediately pushed the straw through the top of the juicebox and sipped.

“Hmm,” he said after a few moments’ consideration, “not bad, actually.”

“See?” Richie replied. “There are some benefits to having a kid.” Ben sat at the table beside him and affectionately patted him on the shoulder. Richie glanced at him and bit the bullet. “So, not to sound totally straight, but are you guys thinking about having kids?”

Ben’s eyes widened and his lips tightened around the straw. Bev rolled her eyes.

“We don’t know, Rich,” she said gently. “Though we are running out of time.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m well over forty.”

“We’re all well over forty.”

Bev gave him a pointed look and realization washed over Richie’s face.

“Oh, yeah,” Richie muttered. “Who gives a shit? I read about a woman in India who had a baby at seventy.”

“I don’t plan on going for that,” Bev laughed.

“Besides, you and Eddie have inspired us to at least look into adoption,” Ben replied.

“Oh yeah?” Richie said. “Nice. Well, if you need advice, talk to Eddie. I’m a mess.”

“Richie…”

“I’m serious,” he insisted. “I know we only got approval because of him.”

“Come on, that’s not—”

“It is true. I mean, who would you let raise a kid? A shitty and foul-mouthed comic with crazy hours and a drinking problem he only just got under control or the responsible, completely organized nerd in polo shirts?”

Ben and Bev were both silent and Richie realized he had, once again, gone too far. He racked his mind to rectify the situation—a joke, an impression, a scream, anything—when he was saved by the backdoor opening and Eddie appearing in the doorway.

“Hey, Lydia’s friends are getting picked up,” he said. “You wanna come say goodbye with me?”

Richie stood.

“Sorry, folks, parenting duty calls,” he said casually and offered a lop-sided grin before leaving Ben and Bev in the kitchen.

He’s late.

What time is it by you?

7:32.

Well, didn’t he say he had a dinner meeting?

Yeah, at 5. wtf

I’m sure he’s just sitting in traffic. He’ll be home soon. Don’t worry.

I’m not worried. I’m fucking pissed.

He can’t help it if work is crazy, sweetheart.

He could’ve called out. I’m by myself over here, neck deep in snotty tissues and crying kids.

Richie glanced up from his phone at the sound of keys in the front door. Fucking finally, he thought. The door opened and closed and it seemed to Richie that Eddie purposely took a long time to get from the foyer to the living room, where he was sitting on the couch with Lydia’s feet in his lap and their youngest curled up against his side, drooling onto his shirt. They were still passed out, mercifully.

Eddie walked into the living room and quietly stepped up to the couch.

“Hey,” he whispered. “How are the girls?”

“Lydia’s fever broke,” Richie sighed, “but I think it’s going into her chest. She keeps coughing. And Tess is just congested and keeps puking up the medicine so that’s been fun.”

“She hasn’t kept any of the medicine down?”

Richie shook his head and shoved his fingers beneath his glasses, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

“Fuck, we gotta get her to take it,” Eddie said.

“No shit,” Richie snapped. He tensed when Lydia stretched in her sleep but she remained asleep.

“I read about another brand online today,” Eddie said, leaning down to run his fingers through Tess’s dark hair. “Supposedly it doesn’t have any of that artificial flavoring shit. That’s probably what’s making her sick.”

Richie shrugged, too exhausted to even comment. Eddie glanced at him, raising an eyebrow before continuing, “I’ll pick some up on the way home tomorrow.”

Richie’s head shot up and he stared at Eddie, stunned.

“You’re going into work tomorrow?” he asked dumbly.

“I gotta, but just for half a day. I’ll be home early.”

“Like you were today?”

Eddie straightened and shook his head.

“I’m too tired for this right now,” he sighed.

Richie’s eyes widened. For a moment, he couldn’t see straight.

“You’re too tired?” he repeated, his voice strained.

Lydia moved again, sighing in her sleep before being rattled awake by a violent cough. Richie and Eddie both reached for the glass of water on the coffee table, but Lydia got to it first before immediately gulping down half of it.

“Easy, kiddo,” Eddie murmured, taking the glass from her when was done. “How are you feeling?”

Lydia answered by coughing again, covering her mouth with her arm like her dad had showed her. Tears sprang to her eyes and her nose began running. Richie handed her the tissue box and ran his fingers through her unruly curls.

“My throat won’t stop tickling,” she finally gasped out.

“Your sinuses are draining, that’s probably it,” Eddie said before reaching towards his briefcase he had left on the floor. He opened it and brought out a bag of cough drops. “I made sure to get the lemon ones.” He unwrapped and handed her one, and she immediately popped it in her mouth before settling back down on the couch.

Richie glanced over at Tess. She hadn’t even stirred from the commotion. He was also quite sure some of the drool on his shirt was snot, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Look, you’re home now, I’m gonna go take a shower, okay?” he said, gently moving Lydia’s feet off his lap and placing a pillow beside Tess. Without waiting for an answer, he hurried to the bedroom, leaving Eddie staring after his retreating back.

Richie, admittedly, took a particularly long shower but he felt he deserved it. A full day and a half of battling germs, miserable kids, and the occasional pukefest could wear a man out. Eddie’s extra-early alarm this morning certainly didn’t help, nor did his apparent reluctance to pick up the phone. Richie allowed himself one bang against the shower wall with his fist before concentrating on his breathing and allowing the warm water to undo the tension in his body. Fuck, he was tired.

Turning off the shower, he gingerly stepped out and wrapped a towel around his waist before heading into the bedroom, where Eddie was waiting for him.

“You talk to Bev about what a shitty husband I am?” he said in an oddly calm voice.

Richie blinked. Then he noticed his cell phone in Eddie’s hand. Shit. Deflect, Tozier.

“You went through my phone?” he shot back. “And you left the girls alone?”

“Tess is still asleep and Lydia is watching TV,” Eddie answered and took a step towards Richie. “And your phone went off with a text from Bev that had my name in it. Of course I fucking looked, you’d do the same.”

Richie frowned. Eddie, was usual, was right.

“Bev and I talk all the time,” he said, brushing past him to their bureau and began searching for pajamas. “You know that.”

“Yeah, but—”

“And you talk to her and the guys,” Richie continued. “What’s the fucking difference?”

“I don’t bitch and moan about you to them.”

“Bullshit.”

“I don’t share private things with them.”

Richie whirled around, which was a bit difficult considering he was still stepping into his pajama pants. “Private things?” he repeated. “You being late on a day where I really fucking needed you isn’t exactly intimate information. What’s the big deal?”

Eddie swallowed and shook his head.

“Well, I don’t like it,” he admitted.

Richie huffed a laugh.

“I don’t like that you care more about work than your family but we all got our crosses to bear, right?” he snapped. “So forgive me for letting off a little steam to someone who actually cares.”

Eddie stared at him, his eyes wide and impossibly bright. Richie looked away, grabbed the first t-shirt he could find in the bureau and put it on.

“I’m gonna go sit with the kids,” he muttered. “Text Bev back for me and tell her everything’s fucking fine.”

He felt Eddie’s eyes on him as he stalked out of the bedroom and tried his best to school his face when he approached the couch but by the sidelong glance his daughter gave him, he knew he had done a poor job of it.

[honkhonkrichard]

some adult losers club headcannons

richie loves all of Billy Joel’s music

Richie and patty get along really well!! they’re great friends and it makes Stan Happy

Patty is a huge chatterbox and a little bit of a scatterbrain and everyone is surprised to see Stan loves her but yall

Stan loves patty so much. every time he looks at her his heart thumps and he always gives her heart eyes

And patty loves stan!!! she loves him and always has and always will

Beverly, kay McCall, Audra Phillips and Patty have girls nights!! they all meet up at a bar or they go for lunch or they hang out at someone’s house and its good. they drink and talk and laugh and its good, 

Richie is an actor, comedian, and musician, by the end of 2016 (post-IT) he has 4 studio albums, 3 comedy specials, and 78 credits (with 5 awards!!) He started out as a DJ in college, but from there he went into music and acting

Ben gets his best work done in bookstores and libraries!! He loves the atmosphere

Beverly once had a breakdown that resulted in her locking herself in her office and bursting out 38 hours later and declaring “I’M BRINGING CAPES BACK.” 

Mike collects bottles/bottle caps, as well as maps of varying types, and mugs

Richie came out as bisexual to the public in an interview in 2014

Beverly’s brand name is Firecracker

Eddie has no public shame after IT took his arm. He will say dumb shit in public. He doesn’t care if people judge him for going into an adult store. 

Sometimes kids will ask Eddie about his prosthetic arm and Eddie always happily explains that his arm got torn off by some monster who eating pushy, question asking kids

Eddie isn’t a fan of children

Richie owns 16 guitars

After IT, beverly starts to wear bolder makeup, to spite tom, who hated it when she wore anything that wasn’t nude/natural 

Richie is covered in tattoos

When he’s stressed, Mike stays late at work and reorganizes/cleans the library

Even at the the ripe old age of 40 Bill is still going through his emo phase

Ben gets really flirty when he’s drunk. He turns into the personality (see: fuckboy) he looks like he has

Mike has published a few children’s books!! 

20% of the money Beverly’s company would make goes to women’s homeless shelters and supporting women leaving abusive households

Patty went to university to become a kindergarten teacher (she was for 5 years), then she became a cop (6 years) and then she settled on a family lawyer 

Richie believes that stanley uris is the funniest motherfucker on the planet

Richie talks about Stan (or at least has so many stan stories) that people actually recognize stan in public

Richie in a 2017 interview: “I once gotta text, from Stan, that said I’m sitting in a cafe in new york and some teenagers fucking recognized me because of you You asshole I got excited I thought my accounting business hit NYC NO ITS BECAUSE YOU TALK ABOUT ME TOO MUCH and it was probably thr funniest thing he’s ever said

Stan is the richie of his work’s social circles

Mike can’t whistle

Kay McCall is a functional, distinguished lesbian. her coming out to Bev (and unfortunately Tom) is the cause of Tom firing her from the firecracker company

Stan and Patty love musicals

Richie doesn’t tan and he finds it the single most frustrating thing about himself (he burns and leaves freckles lol) 

Richie has all the social media (@RichRecords on Twitter, @Trashmouthrecords on instagram, he’s also on snapchat from time to time (but not often) and he sometimes twitch streams himself playing video games) 

He’s on instagram the most but there’s also the fun game his fans play, which is this week on Richie Tozier liked

Richie cannot dance. Neither can ben. It’s horrible.

When Stan and Patty (finally) have their baby (a girl named Daisy) Stan asked Richie to be the god father. Richie cries and says yes

Richie’s parents are buried in a private grave behind his grandparent’s Italian villa side by side. protruding out of them are stone hands holding one another

ben goes blep

Mike does a lot of scrapbooking/arts and crafts!! 

he also gives a ton of stickers out all the time. the losers club thinks he should be a teacher. He refuses this with a bashful smile. 

Mike is an openly gay man (he came out in 2002)

Mike once got a donation of $10,000 to help repair/rebuild/better the library. it was anonymous, except for the signature RT

Richie’s full, legal name as of 2016 is Richard James “Trash” Tozier 

his stage name is Trashmouth Records

Richie has his own late night talk show by the time he’s 50.

Eddie expands his limousine company (Wings on Wheels) to LA to live with Richie

Ben’s favourite video game is Minecraft. Same with Mike. They play together, sometimes, even though Ben feels like maybe it’s a bit silly. Mike always assures him it’s great

Stanley, who grew up getting visciously bullied for how he looks/skin colour, grows up to be arguably the most attractive out of the lucky 7

Patty, Bev and Richie all call each other Babe

Bill’s office is covered in sticky notes and papers taped to the wall 

Mike’s favourite song is american pie by Don McLean

Richie plays guitar, piano, saxophone and kazoo

Stan plays violin

Richie, Stan, Eddie and Mike all wear glasses

Bev, Ben and Bill make fun of them for this

ben and Bev have 3 kids together. Eileen, Elliot and jackson

Bill lives with Mike

everyone is alive and well

feel free to ask me to expand on any of these points

[mitchmarnier]

in just four minutes | chapter four

.“That’s… Jesus, Eds, what the fuck, actually? I thought those anti vaxxers were a Internet meme.” Eddie burst out laughing, and he laughed so hard that tears welled in his eyes and fell down his cheeks. Richie Tozier reminded him everyday why he was Eddie Kaspbrak’s favourite fucking person in this world.

[or: Eddie Kaspbrak hadn’t planned on being an absolute cliche the fell in love with his college dorm mate, but ain’t that just the way. To add insult to injury, said room mate has a girlfriend … doesn’t he?]

chapter warnings: mentions of transphobia, mentions of homophobia, sonia kaspbrak’s manipulative parenting. 

Richie was understandably groggy the next morning when he rolls out of Eddie’s bed. He manages only to roll from the mattress onto the ground, groaning, and curling up into a ball once more. Eddie had already been awake for an hour or so before Richie showed even the smallest hint of stirring, and he’d prepared this type of reaction. Kneeling down in front of Richie, Eddie pushed at his room mates shoulder until he rolled over, glaring up at him.

“No.” Richie said, pouting kind of adorably up at Eddie. “Whatever it is you want, no. Just leave me here to die.”

“Advil. Water.” Eddie said simply, trying to keep his voice at a reasonable volume as he held up the objects in his hands. Richie’s face light up as much as it could will he still managed to look pretty fucking miserable. He accepted the medicine and beverage from Eddie as though they were the best gifts he’d ever gotten.

Richie had finished the water and the two of them have gotten back onto the bed when Eddie turned to Richie. Richie took one look at the seriousness of Eddie’s expression and seemed to panic. “Oh, shit,” he said under his breath, starting to shake his head. “Did I say something last night? Something embarrassing? Okay, no, actually don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.” Eddie raised his eyebrows but Richie’s mouth was off running before Eddie had a chance to say a damn thing. “Actually, tell me. I think I should know… except, you know, is it really bad? Do I not want to know? Eddie!! Is it bad?”

“Richie,” Eddie clapped his hands to the sides of Richie’s cheeks and forced him to meet his gaze. “You didn’t say anything bad or embarrassing, at least not after you got back here. You barely said anything at all, you passed out pretty much the second you got into the door.”

“Oh. Okay,” Richie nodded, seemingly almost too relieved. He was still rubbing his hands together anxiously and Eddie almost abandoned this whole thing right then. “Then… what? Why do you look so serious?”

“It’s… a bunch of things?” Eddie said, frowning. “It’s… I feel like we get along really well, I like to think of you of my closest friend here. I do, you’re like my best friend.” Richie beamed, letting himself lean a little bit more into where Eddie was touching him. “But it’s also…. you’ll just do something, or say something, I know you aren’t telling me stuff. You don’t have to tell me anything, obviously, but it just… it’s like you don’t think we’re friends the same way I do.”

“Eddie.” Richie said, sounding almost pained. He took hold of Eddie’s hands on his cheeks and clasped their hands together in their laps. “If Stan didn’t exist, you’d definitely be my best friend! I know what you’re talking about, the weird stuff, and I was going to explain everything, I don’t know why I… Didn’t. I guess I was just after it would ruin everything.”

“Richie…” Eddie looked at Richie’s face, scanning it slowly while Richie seemed to thinking through his words in a way that Eddie had never seen him do before. “You don’t have to tell me anything you’re not comfort-“

“Eddie, I’m trans.” Richie said quickly, squeezing his eyes shut and squeezing tightly at Eddie’s hands. Eddie blinked, letting the spat out information wash over him. He let it settle over him, shifting all the things of the past few months fall into place.

“Oh.” Eddie said, nodding now. Richie’s eyes flew open, seeming panicked. “That’s actually makes sense, yeah, I see that now.”

“Is it…” Richie cleared his throat, looking like he was trying to find the closest escape route from their shared dorm while still fighting off a killer hangover. “Is that a problem? Do you hate me?”

“What? No!” Eddie tilted his head down so it was level with Richie’s downcast eyes. “Absolutely not. Richie, you’re the exact same person you were before we had this conversation. Nothing is different.”

Richie pressed his lips together as though he was trying not to cry and tossed himself forward, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s shoulders. Eddie let out a startled little laugh, patting Richie’s back in what he hoped was a very platonic fashion. Richie pulled back, wiping at the hints of tears, and gave Eddie a smile so soft that it made Eddie’s stomach clench up.

“My name’s been Richie since like eighth grade,” Richie said, seeming unable to stop talking about it now that the door had been opened. “Stan was the first person to ever call me that, and it was just… you know?” Eddie didn’t know, but that didn’t seem to detour Richie at all, and Eddie wouldn’t have wanted to. “Kids are school were little assholes, you know. They didn’t get it, at all. Sure, we were just kids and one day I was somebody and then I started becoming somebody else. My parents wanted to move us to a different town when I started to transition, I’m not sure if it was for me or because of me.”

Eddie nodded slowly, rubbing his thumbs along the backs of Richie’s hands.

“And then one day…” A starry look came over Richie’s face. “These kids were just being their usual asshole selves, whatever, going on about how I’d ever get a girlfriend if I was trans, that I should have just been a lesbian- as if I was fucking bisexual as the colour purple-“ Eddie’s eyes widened, never having heard anything about Richie being anything other than heterosexual before, but Richie ran right past it. “And Bev comes up, she takes my hand and turns to those douchebag kids and says that I won’t need to find a girlfriend because I already had one.”

“That’s how you guys got together?” Eddie asked, forcing a smile. It was a hell of a story. Pretty fucking amazing, actually, some serious TV shit. An odd expression came over Richie’s face and he looked slightly over Eddie’s shoulder, smiling slightly to himself.

“I’m assuming…” Richie said slowly, starting to grin. “That my relationship with Bev is some of the weird stuff you’ve been noticing?” Eddie felt himself blush, and shrugged slightly. “Bev and I have never been together. For like, one second.”

Eddie opened his mouth, closed his mouth, then opened it again. “Come again?”

Richie laughed. “Bev pretending to be my girlfriend when we were thirteen was like some sort of weird armour. It didn’t stop all the bullshit transphobia, but I think it really did help. Like those straight boys could make fun of me all they wanted, but I was dating the hottest chick in school, you know? Humbled them a little bit, between the beatings.”

Eddie shook his head, wishing he couldn’t relate to that. Wishing that there wasn’t anything to relate to in the first place. Wishing it was a better world for them both. But Richie was still smiling, and Eddie didn’t want to interrupt the flow of Richie’s words.

“And so long as either of us ever found anybody we really wanted to be with, we didn’t see any reason to stop presenting ourselves as a couple. I don’t think even Mike knows we’re not really together.” Richie crinkled his brow, confused and set off course for a moment. “And up to now, we haven’t found anybody we were interested in. So.”

Eddie and Richie made eye contact for the first time since Richie had started speaking, and they both smiled in unison. Eddie squeezed their hands again and cleared his throat. “I got… I got a lot of shit in high school, too. I don’t think it’s the same of whatever you had to go through but I was gay, and you know... I seemed gay. Looked act, acted gay? People were calling me gay before I knew what gay even was, really. Then there was all the stuff with my ma.”

“What about your mom?” Richie asked, and it seemed like he must have been able to see the way Eddie started to shut down at the question. “Hey, no. You’ve like, never told me about your parents. I won’t make you, but it seems fair, don’t you think? I just-“

“My dad died when I was five. Cancer.” Eddie said with a sigh. “I feel like it broke my mother, in some terrible mental way. She was, is, fucking nuts. She had me on all these fake pills, and made think I had asthma even when I didn’t, as some sort of weird control thing? I want to say it’s because she was worried about me getting sick and dying like Dad, but I had to sneak out and illegally get my vaccinations when I was sixteen because she thought they’d cause autism.”

Richie stared at Eddie for a long moment. “That’s… Jesus, Eds, what the fuck, actually? I thought those anti vaxxers were a Internet meme.” Eddie burst out laughing, and he laughed so hard that tears welled in his eyes and fell down his cheeks. Richie Tozier reminded him everyday why he was Eddie Kaspbrak’s favourite fucking person in this world.

They both fell backwards onto Eddie’s bed, side by side, staring up at the ceiling while Eddie still let out little chuckles. “Looks like we both have some shitty origins,” Eddie said with a small wheeze.

Richie chuckled beside him. “All the best stories do.”

[angelicspaceprince]

Summer Lovin’ (Part 1)

Author: Anna

Title: Summer Lovin' (Part 1)

Pairing: Gabriel/Reader

Character/s: Gabriel, Castiel, Lucifer, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Balthazar, Crowley, Michael, Charlie, others I can't remember.

Word Count: 3, 634 words

Warnings/Tags: Teacher!Gabriel, History Teacher!Reader, overseas trips, having a crus on our man, lead up to smut, angst and goodness

Summary: You had no idea how this happened. Well, that was a lie. You knew exactly how this happened. Those stupid golden eyes and ridiculously sexy smirk somehow managed to throw you off course every time they were in your vercinity. You had no idea how you were going to handle spending two months taking care of an entire grade of students as you travelled around Europe...especially when Gabriel was going to be with you every step of the way.

Notes: Just discovered the @gabriel-monthly-challenge blog and saw their prompt for this month being high school AU and decided, yes, Gabriel as a high school teacher being the little shit we know and love. So, here we are! I'm about to go on placement so either there will be a TON of more writing that may or may not be. (Was originally going to be one large fic but had to break it down, I start placement NEXT WEEK so I'll prbably finish this series then plus all my others that are overdue to be finished)

Tags: oddone92. elyshakate. authoressskr. thewhiterabbit42, gabriel-monthly-challenge, saintbartine, ever-faithful-sidekick, saltvattenshar, diehadess, mega-supernatural-writings, shanghai88, sassysousa, micas-dont-like-rain, randomlonelytorment, oldparchmentandcoffee, ihopehellhaswi-fi. gabrieltrash, thoughtfullyoptimisticgalaxy, djpaige13paige, letsfeerintheheadlightsuniverse, taylorchwan, pizzafromhell, tuesdays-suck-for-tuesdays, archangelsanonymous

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 Summer Lovin' (Part 1)

 You have no idea how this happened.

Well, that was a lie. You know exactly how this happened.

Those freaking golden eyes and that ridiculously sexy smirk.

Mr Gabriel “call me Gabe” Shurley was the religion teacher at your new school. An elite school for the rich that made you feel incredibly small and insignificant when you first approached it looking for work.

You'd just moved from your old home to here, looking to get away from a nosey family and old boyfriends, and you were extremely lucky in the sense that the old history teacher has decided to retire, leaving a place for you to slip right in to take over.

You were fairly easy going and it took a lot to fluster you. But somehow that religion teacher always managed to make your brain short circuit and cheeks flush a deep red.

You didn't even hear what he said, just agreed to it when you realised he asked you a question and wasn't telling you a story. When a bemused Sam Winchester - science teacher who, as you had figured out during your third day here, every female and a few male students either had or had had a crush on him and was (as your class put it) “super cool” - came up and gently explained what you signed up for.

A six-week long school trip around Europe.

Okay, a) what sort of school has a grade-wide trip to Europe to help with their studies and b) how did you not realise that's what he was asking?

You, as a general rule, avoided day excursions like the plague. The paperwork alone was enough to invoke anxiety, but with the added stress of being the sole responsible adult for 23 kids was enough to set you off.

You didn't know if you could handle a two-month trip, responsible for an entire grade. The planning alone was enough to cause you to freak out. You should pull out, you still could. Hell, Mr Gabriel ‘Call Me Gabe’ Shurley had come up no more than six times to ask you if you wanted to withdraw.

But you couldn’t say no to him.

At least there were going to be other teachers attending, thank God. The school had decided that for a grade of a hundred and five that eight teachers and two aides for the kids who required one-on-one support would be sufficient. And, to make matters somewhat more bearable, the other teachers and aides being sent you were, at the very least, on good terms with. When Sam told you that Zachariah (not Zach. Never Zach) never came along on school trips, you swore if God Himself appeared before you, you would have kissed him in relief. Creepy Zach and Lilith, who were the two major staffing members that you had real issues with, weren’t even invited according to your reliable source. The staff that was coming, you felt comfortable with and were class favourites.

Sam was coming, obviously, and so was his brother Dean, the PE teacher. Both of the Winchester brothers were nice enough, Dean was flirty and always insisted on wearing these tiny, red shorts during PE sessions, Sam assured you that they weren’t coming on the trip, he was making sure of it.

Then there was the Maths and Art teacher, Crowley MacLeod. The snark sessions the two of you shared left most of the staff room amused, and you enjoyed the banter the two of you had on a regular basis. You were still pretty confused as to how he could have two completely opposing subjects as his classes, but he seemed to make it work. Took no shit from anyone and, quite often, would sass his students (or anyone, really) just for being in the room.

You loved it.

The drama teacher was also an amazing person, although you didn’t believe his name at first. Who on Earth calls their son Lucifer?

Lu, as he allows you and a select few call him, was also incredibly sarcastic. Must come with the job description for the teachers in this school, including ridiculously good looking, honestly. Were they running a school or a runway?

Doesn’t matter, that’s beside the point. Lu had a flair for the dramatic, both in the theatre and out of it. So it made sense to you that he took up drama, although his teaching style could be rather...well, simple. On several occasions, the kids had told you that he played drama games every so often but for the most part he’d tell them to write a play to perform in x amount of weeks.

I mean, if it fits the modules he had been given then you guess it’s okay? You could never imagine doing that, however, you had to have everything planned to the minute’s detail, including plans A-Z in case anything happened that caused you to go off track.

Then you have Castiel, the English teacher. Possibly the most amusing person you had met. Most things just flew over his head, but the few things that he actually questioned always cracked you up. He was possibly your favourite teacher to approach for serious concerns and philosophical discussions, always having the time to chat. Quite often, the two of you would start a conversation about school or marking, him answering any and all questions you had, and it would quickly turn into a discussion or debate about some topical issue. It was amazing.

Then there was Balthazar. When God created the word Man-Whore, he had Balthazar in mind. His shirts were always plunging and awfully tight, and every Monday morning he’d walk in and loudly proclaim his weekend activities, or as he liked to call it, his conquests. Teaching Food and Bev as well as French, you were pretty sure he embodied the phrase ‘well, it’s four pm somewhere’. Kids loved him, he always had some story to tell and, for the older ones, stories involving alcohol were a fan favourite.

The music teacher was another friend that you actually started spending time with outside of school. Marie, the tall brunette that was kind, wise but with an evil streak. From the moment that you first met Mr Gabriel “Call Me Gabe” Shurley, she was determined to set the two of you up, which led to a lot of awkward moments. I mean, the moment he’s in the room, all rational thought is out the window. Scratch that. All thought it out the window. You were pretty sure Marie got some form of derived pleasure out of this. And you highly doubt that she was going to behave over the two-month trip.

Finally, you have your two aides for Crispin and Louise, your friendly neighbourhood geek and lesbian, Charlie, and possibly one of the most serious men you’ve ever met, Michael. Charlie was amazing, a people’s person and genuinely funny. The two of you would talk about your favourite shows and movies before and after classes, and would often come up with new and creative ways to encourage Crispin with his work. Michael, on the other hand, was completely opposite.

The relationship you had was strictly professional, and you often didn’t know what to say to him outside of school work. He was very focused and was amazing for Louise, patient and kind to the girl with so many questions as she signed them out. You had put in a few things to help with Louise, but for the most part, she just needed a translator and occasional assistance with understanding school work. He made sure to remind you for subtitles on all YouTube videos or movies shown, even though you made a point not to forget without his reminders. The texts he sent you were short and sweet and were always to remind you of things you needed to bring in for Louise’s dyslexia.

So, he was an amazing guy. Just a polar opposite to Charlie.

All in all, you knew the trip was going to be a great one. Even as you stand, practically comatose, with your steaming coffee warming your hands as you all do a final headcount at the airport. Parents either respecting their kids and not making a big deal over them leaving the country for what would most likely feel like an eternity, and others full on embarrassing them as they blubber and sob as their babies make their first step to exploring the world (somewhat) alone.

Who decided that you were all going to fly out before the sun had even risen? To meet up at the airport at four in the morning was a feat you weren’t sure you were going to be able to succeed in but, miraculously, here you were, rather than in the comfort of your warm, soft bed.

Gabriel was, of course, a morning person. Already up and running at a speed you didn’t think you could ever match as he was excitedly chatting away and reassuring parents and students, making final checks and rushing around the airport to make sure that everything was in order. So far, when any of the members of the faculty came up to greet you, they got a grunt.

Simply too early for you.

Marie, as it would appear, was in the same boat as you, standing next to you as the two of you silently count and recount the students as Gabriel does the final lot of announcements about how the lot of you were going to travel. Travelling with a hundred and five students was going to be a challenge, so having groups of students that each teacher and/or aide was responsible for seemed logical, after all, it’s easier to look after nine-point-five students then it was all of them at once. The ten you were responsible for were the easy ones, thank God. Any other time you’d have the brain capacity to take care of the difficult students but today was not that day.

Marie bumps you slightly as you take a sip of the ambrosia that is your coffee. “What seat are you in again?”

“1B?” You confirm, looking down at your ticket. You see a faint smirk in the corner of your eye as Marie moves to take a mouthful of her drink, no doubt to hide the fact that she knew something you didn’t. “Marie? What’s going on? Why did you want to know?” She shrugs.

“Curiosity.” She replies sweetly before moving to stop an argument between two boys before it got physical. You had a funny feeling, but that could be from the lack of sleep. But the almost sinister look Dean was sending your way made you think that maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t that.

Final goodbyes were said and the boarding of the students commenced as the eleven of you tried to get them to board in an orderly manner. An impossible task, but somehow you managed.

You were seated with Jordan next to you, a quiet boy who, immediately after sitting down, pulled out his book and started to read. You liked Jordan, very brainy and never really was a bother. Relieved that you wouldn’t have to deal with one of the more hands-on kids directly next to you, you settled, pulling out your own book to read once take off commenced. Usually, you’d listen to music but you didn’t think that would be a great idea this time around.

“Hey there, neighbour.” A cheerful voice states as a weight plonks down in 1C. When you turn, your stomach does a turn, cheeks instantly flushing red and burning your skin. Golden eyes meant one person. Gabriel.

Shit.

Ten and a half hours next to the one person you couldn’t properly talk to.

“Hey.” You finally managed to not-quite blurt out with a tense smile. “Kids ready?”

“Yeah, just.” He agrees. “You ready for this?”

“Once I fully wake up.” You can feel yourself trying to be somewhat normal, but your voice has somehow gone back to how it was when you were fourteen, something that caused embarrassment to eat away at your very core.

“If you need a nap, I don’t mind being your pillow.” He winks your way, clearly enjoying how you somehow managed to get more blood into your face.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine.” You state somewhat sharply as you open your book and attempt to read, the words not quite making their way into your brain, signalling the conversation was over.

Wait a minute.

Wasn’t it Dean who booked the plane tickets?

~~~

When, and how, you fell asleep was news to you, but all you could think of now was the ridiculously warm and soft pillow you were leaning on. And occasionally moving.

It was annoying, causing you to grumble and shift slightly in an attempt to get more comfortable. A quiet voice asking ‘sir’ with a low ‘shhhh’ in response quickly made you realise two things.

A), there was no pillow and B) if there was no pillow, that meant there were two possibilities as to whom you were leaning against.

Sitting up quickly, rubbing your eyes and the slight drool that dampened the corner of your face, you were completely mortified when you realised you had been sleeping and drooling, on your crush, who saw nothing of it.

“Morning, sweets!” He exclaims cheerfully as the student - Olivia - walks away, clearly, her question answered. “Sleep well?”

“I’m so sorry.” You start, ready to jump into a full-blown apology when he simply shrugs you off.

“Don’t apologise, I’ve been told that I’m a fantastic pillow.” He grins brightly as your brain fog begins to, yet again, settle down causing your brain to slow, the bright smile he sent your way causing it to jar suddenly. For fuck’s sake. “Not a morning person?”

“Not much of a person in general, if I’m honest.” You hear the words tumble out of your mouth as you move to sit more comfortable, grimacing at the crick in your neck. You can see his face twist in amusement, trying to hold back a small amount of laughter from bubbling forth. “Where’s the coffee? Actually no, where are we?” You correct yourself as he opens his mouth to answer.

A small paper cup filled with glorious brown liquid appears in front of you. “You missed her by about two minutes, so I grabbed you a cup.” The sip you took felt heavenly as warmth filled your system and you began to slowly pull out of the fog and the wrench in the gears of your brain started to shift slowly. “You slept for about eight hours, we have another hour and a bit to go.” You groan. “What? Is sitting next to Jordan that bad?” You quickly swivel to make sure Jordan isn’t offended but, thankfully, he’s fast asleep. He’s a little bit sensitive, that boy.

“No, not a fan of flying.” You admit. “If God wanted us to fly, He would have given us wings.” You quote your mother. Gabriel starts to laugh, obviously trying to keep the volume low so not to wake up the surrounding sleeping students.

“You sound like Dean.” He lifts his head to look behind the two of you, you follow suit. Sure enough, there was a pale, with an almost green tinge, Dean Winchester, gripping onto his chair for dear life as Sam continues to obviously enjoy his misfortune and tease the shit outta him. “He hates flying.”

“Then why do the trip?” You ask him quietly, smiling reassuringly when Dean’s eyes flicker to yours for a second.

“To get some of, and I quote, hot European ass.” You roll your eyes as you turn back, leaving Dean to his misery.

“In that case then, Dean can suffer.” As you move to drink more of your coffee, you feel Gabriel’s laughter next to you.

You really liked his laugh.

~~~

The rest of the hour flew by quickly, sleepy but excited students slowly waking up as the plane prepares for landing, chatter slowly filling up the cabin as you help calm nervous students and stop the overexcited ones from freaking out the rest. In between all of that, you managed to somehow, miraculously, have a semi-normal conversation with Gabriel, find Marie to basically just slap the upside of her head as clearly, she knew the torment that awaited you when you first boarded the plane, and finish the last two chapters of your book. The moment you were on land again, you could have jumped for joy. Dean all but fell down the stairs his legs were so shaky from the ride, and you were certain his voice was about two octaves higher than usual.

Student check and baggage claim happened relatively quickly...well, slightly quicker than you expected for a group of over a hundred. You managed to track down Dean to check up on him as your kids were getting their bags, and although his voice hadn’t quite returned to its normal deep pitch, he didn’t look as green as he did when he left the stairs.

He was, however, strangely interested in how your flight was, and surprisingly disappointed when you informed him you spent most of it sleeping and the rest dealing with the kids. If it wasn’t for the fact that you were adults, you would have suspected something was up.

Herding tired and excited kids into a bus at 7:30 at night was a little disorientating (read: super fucking hard) when you were still running at your home state’s time of 2:30 in the afternoon, your mind confused at why it was suddenly going dark, but you managed. Thankfully, the bus driver who addressed everyone as ‘flower’ did a pit stop at McDonald's so the kids had something to eat before checking them into their rooms for the night, having a meeting with the head of their group before lights out. Gabriel had run ahead to check him in, so you grabbed him something to make sure he ate, which allowed Marie to basically take the piss out of you as you two waited for the others to finish.

Finally, you were at the hotel. Your heavy eyelids wanted to cover your lead-like eyes, but your jobs weren’t done. You had to hold a meeting with your group of students to remind them of the rules (no fooling around, lights out at 10pm, breakfast at 7am and to be ready for departure at 9am, unless otherwise specified, no sneaking out, no alcohol, no drugs and, if you really must leave your room, make sure to inform a teacher and take a buddy, no we don’t care that you are 18 we are responsible for you, therefore, you will do as we say) and get them ready for the next day, which was going to be an easy one. Visit Westminster and possibly do a bit of exploring.

The nine you had were easy, and you had the added extra help of Charlie as Crispin was in your group, alongside Victoria, Lucas, Ursula, Joel, Ryan, Elizabeth, Jane and Angela, meant that you were sure you were going to have it easy. Sure, Lucas and Joel together was often a recipe for trouble but the two of them never caused you any grief and Victoria was upset that her boyfriend was in another group but she would be fine once they all figured out that these mini-groups were just to check to see if everyone was present and to give them the run down of the next days events.

After explaining this to them, they all seemed settled that they were, in fact, going to be able to hang out with their friends. The meeting itself lasted only ten minutes, located in the boy's room before you left them all to get ready for bed, having shown the girls to their room as you walked down to your room.

You already knew that you were going to have to share with another teacher. The groups had to share rooms in their gender and so did teachers, mostly due to room restrictions and to be fair on students.

You had no idea who you’d been paired with, but Marie had assured you that she had put in a word so you wouldn’t have to deal with the snorers (the Winchester bros) or the extremely fussy ones (Castiel and Michael), especially as you would have to stay with them for the duration of the trip.

Secretly, you were hoping for Marie, who was hoping for Dean, or Charlie, who was hoping for Marie. That was a Shakespearean love story right there.

So, when you opened your door and no one was present, you assumed whoever you were staying with hadn’t finished their meeting, so you move to claim the bed closest to the window, hoping to be more or less in bed within the next ten minutes.

Teeth brushed, PJs on, book out, you were more or less ready for bed and just waiting for the other teacher to rock up. It wasn’t until another twenty minutes had passed that the door was finally slammed open.

Oh no.

You can’t be serious.

You don’t know if your heart, mind, body and soul could take this.

“Hiya sweets!”

It was going to be a long trip.

[neo-cherryy]

I Wish You Were a Boy || Beverly x reader

Request: noneee

Tense: 3rd person

Summary: Beverly & Y/N struggle to come to terms with their feelings and parents

Warnings: abuse/violence, swearing

A/N: so I got this idea from As You Are kind of, I don’t see a lot for Bev and I thought hey why not- im in love with the sentiment in this but there obviously are triggers for disapproval and with both of their families etc. Im deeply sorry if this sucks

 Her and Beverly had been inseparable ever since they became friends at the age of 7, after she helped Beverly when she was pushed over. She was crying and bleeding a lot from her knee, a scar that still remained to this day, and she was the only source of comfort Beverly had ever had. She was the only one who could keep her calm and to stop her from crying, almost instantly. She cared for Beverly, the type of friendship Beverly had always dreamt of having.

At the age of 12, she knew that Beverly was her soulmate. Someone who looked out for you, someone who made you a better person, someone who was there for you no matter what, and finally, someone who made you feel a way you never thought was possible. She wasn’t sure what she was feeling, though, and she had put it off to a sisterly love. Around several months of back and forth contemplation, she had come to the realisation that she was, in fact, in love with Beverly. She wasn’t sure how to go about the situation and she had nobody to talk to about her feelings. So, one night whilst they sat watching Alf, she told her. Beverly had asked her multiple times to clarify what she had meant and was in-denial about her friend’s feelings towards her. Once Beverly had realised that she meant it, there became a lot of shouting within (Y/N)’s bedroom. The two began to argue and Beverly left, leaving her to cry alone which was the last time she spoke to Beverly.

The two’s friendship had disintegrated ever since, and they both made other friends. She hung out with troubled kids, whilst Beverly grew close to a group of boys and they called themselves the Losers’ Club. She envied them, as she reminisced mentally about the times her and Beverly spent together. Beverly would catch her staring at her every so often, and would send her a rude look but as she turned away from her, each time the rudeness was replaced with regret and sorrow. Beverly didn’t want their friendship to be over but she couldn’t come to terms with the feelings, which she received but that she also gave back. She was aware that they could never be together, not with her father being the way that he was. Beverly started up a romance with none other than Bill Denbrough, convincing herself she loved him. When (Y/N) found out, her heart broke, everything she’d ever felt overwhelmed her and she felt so low. She sat in her room, crying once again, contemplating all ways to leave the world. It was funny how she was the one who could stop Beverly from crying, yet Beverly was the one who could make her cry this much.

It didn’t last between Beverly and Bill, Beverly knew what she doing was wrong. She admitted everything to him, from the moment she was told that her friend was in love with her, to the moment she knew she felt the same. She explained to him her worries and fears, and she cried with him as he spoke about his younger brother. It was the first time that she’d felt a weight fall off her shoulders and chest, the first moment she’d cried in front of anyone but her, the first moment someone had cried with her. Bill stopped crying.

“You need to tell her,” he said, comforting her as she stayed quiet. She knew she had to but she just couldn’t. How could she? She broke someone’s heart, she broke their friendship and she broke them. She nodded, still quiet and slouched.

It took Beverly a while before she told her, terrified of the outcome and response. She called her up and invited her over, whilst her father was out, (Y/N) was hesitant at first but reluctantly agreed. She rode her bike over to her house, a slight mess as she wobbled and had a lack of control for most of the journey. She dropped her bike down and walked up the steps, she took a deep breath and knocked on her door lightly. Beverly opened it and smiled, a mix of beaming and nervousness. The two watched a film that Beverly had taken from the local VHS store, an awkward atmosphere suffocating them both. Beverly turned to her halfway through as (Y/N) tried not to stare back, she could feel Beverly’s eyes on her that weren’t going away. She decided to turn to and as she did, Beverly placed a hand to her cheek and a weak smile laid on her face. Her eyes had a glint in them, and held somewhat of an adoration as she looked at her, Beverly’s thumb soothingly stroking her cheek. Her eyes danced as she scanned and noticed every detail of her features, from the subtle nose flare as she breathed to the way her eyelashes fluttered slowly as she blinked. Beverly focused on her and as she did, thoughts whirled in her mind of how much she was in love with the girl in front of her, right now. Beverly slowly moved in to kiss her but instantly stopped when she heard the faint sound of the lock, coming from the front door was her father. Beverly eagerly forced (Y/N) to leave, pushing her to the window. She climbed out, but before she left she placed a hand on Beverly’s hand and smiled to her. That was the time her father had assumed Beverly had had a boy over, closing the window and curtains abruptly, he screamed and dragged her to the room she always hated.

“I wish you were a boy,” she sighed, muttering and Beverly slowly turned to look at her. She looked at her softly with a glisten in her eye. Her mother had been walking passed when she overheard this, she pressed her ear close to the door. “Then at least I wouldn’t feel so... so wrong and guilty about all of this.”

“I wish you’d just accept this,” she replied back, keeping her voice low to avoid her hearing how hurt she was. “It’s not wrong, is it? It can’t be helped.”

She shrugged. “I just know we can’t be open about this.”

The two stayed quiet and (Y/N)’s mother had her hand covering her mother, shock and somewhat hurt piercing through her. Her mother had always assumed the girls’ relationship was innocent and only friendship, yet when she heard the two muttering about love, she couldn’t dare come to terms with it. Her mother wandered off into the kitchen, laying out plates on the table and adding one extra to make four seating places. She walked over to her telephone and dialled an all too familiar phone number, and then proceeded to await an answer. The other line had been received and she spoke lowly into the phone, discussing and asking if they would ever so kindly be interested in joining them for dinner.

“I would love to,” they said, and with that she placed the telephone back down and smirked to herself. She was a horrible woman, only caring what was best for herself, what would benefit herself, and how something would make her look. Anything she disapproved of (Y/N) doing was in order to keep up her own reputation, something her husband always despised. (Y/N) had realised long ago the real reasoning for her father leaving, not because he had cheated like her mother said, but because her mother was a compulsive selfish lady.

Her mother called for the two girls to come to the dinner table, and as they appeared into her sights, they came to face a dreaded man. Beverly became weak, terrified and she began to shake nervously. Dinner’s with him was always the worst, he’d have something negative to say about everything in order to have an excuse to start an argument. (Y/N) had noticed Beverly’s reaction and placed a hand to her back, rubbing it comfortingly. This made her mother’s skin crawl, and she snarled as she shared a look with Beverly’s father. She beckoned for the two to sit down, and so they did but uncomfortably.

Her mother faked dinner conversation, bringing up hints about the girls’ being ever so close lately. She talked about how distant they became and how they suddenly became friends again, putting in about how much preferred it when they weren’t friends. Beverly’s father agreed, remembering what he was told by (Y/N)’s mother over the phone about what she’d overheard. The girls’ became nervous as they ate, staying silent and avoiding eye contact, and avoiding any physical contact with each other also. Beverly’s father brought up embarrassing moments of her, in attempts to humiliate her in front of her friend.

“Stop,” (Y/N) warned, head held low and looking to her plate. He ignored her and carried on. “I said. Stop,” she spoke through gritted teeth and lowered her voice in pitch to intimidate. He laughed and stopped, looking to her amused. Her head remained low, but up slightly to look at him, her stare was harshly fixated on him and she gave him a look like Pennywise, just without the smile. He stayed amused, and then her mother butted in rudely.

“You’re acting like a couple of lesbians,” she said bitterly, knowing what she was saying. (Y/N)’s stare slowly manoeuvred towards her own mother. Her mother sat up straight, staring directly back to her with a wicked look spread across her face. Beverly could tell that she was going to explode, and could heard her breathe becoming heavy. Beverly gently placed her hand on hers to get her to calm down, causing her to avert her eyes to Beverly instead for a mere second, taken aback by her gesture. Beverly’s father laughed and then stood to use the restroom, leaving the two girls’ and her mother.

When Beverly’s father returned, he chose to walk past behind them instead of her mother. He wasn’t expecting to see what he saw, as he looked down and saw Beverly’s hand still on (Y/N)’s, stroking it softly. He was outraged, sick to the stomach, and angered by another person having any sort of relationship or contact with her. He had always reminded Beverly that she was his and nobody else’s, which Beverly had told (Y/N) one night after an incident with him. He walked round to face them on the other side of the table, spitting insults and homophobic slurs towards them. He pointed at them, humiliated them and then he stopped. He gripped onto the back of the dining chair he was using, his knuckles turning pale and then he released his grip. All fell silent, creating a tense and a false sense of security atmosphere.

He then pushed the table away from them, food flying and glasses falling over with spilled drinks. Their red wine fell across the table, creating a stream towards the two girls like blood. Beverly removed her hand from hers quickly, avoiding complete eye contact with anyone. He laughed humourlessly, almost sounding psychotic, as he waved his arms about. Her mother was now terrified, even, and she contemplated whether or not she did the right thing, in inviting him over.

“What the fuck is this?” he looked down to them, eyes still fixated on where their hands had been together. “I asked a question,” he raised his voice and lowered the pitch, intimidating the two girls. He pulled at the collar of Beverly’s dress, dragging her away from (Y/N) harshly.

“Stop it,” she screamed. “You’re hurting her.”

 (Y/N) found the nearest object she could find for defence, she grabbed the baseball bat from her side and hit him. Her mother tried grabbing it off of her as she kept hitting, all pleads to stop muffled behind her thoughts, her anger and her hurt. Her surroundings were blurred and barely audible to her in this moment. Beverly grabbed the bat from her, and threw it to the floor, she grabbed her hand and pulled her behind her as they ran. (Y/N)’s mother was distraught, but had encouraged the two to go as she picked up the bat from the floor. They both ran through the fields, heading straight for the woods nearby to get away from the house and out of sight. (Y/N) was still in a trance, limply following behind her as Beverly held a firm grip on her hand, doing most of the work of getting her moving.

As they got deep enough into the woods, they stopped and (Y/N) fell against a tree. She curled up into a ball and sobbed into her arms, wetting her sleeves with tears, spit and snot. Beverly sat beside her and pulled her close, stroking her hair comfortingly. She too had begun to cry, staring at the dim and far lights of (Y/N)’s house. She could see the curtains being drawn and shook along with (Y/N). Beverly placed her hands on either side of (Y/N)’s face; they looked to each other in absolute admiration and adoration. (Y/N) reached arm up to push the hair out of Beverly’s face. Beverly stroked her thumbs along the soft skin of her lover and long-time friend, and she took the wrongly timed chance to finally kiss her.

[hawaiianshirt-s]

 ↪Title: Make Me Forget 

↪Pairing: Beverly Marsh/reader

↪Summary: Beverly is forced to come out to her dad and it doesn’t end well for her. Luckily, you’re there to patch things up when they get broken. 

↪Author’s notes: Hello all! I’ve gotten multiple requests for some Bev and BOI do I love her, so here you go! Also, progress into It: 68/1153 pages :)

Beverly closed the door quietly behind her, wincing at the uncomfortably loud ‘click’ the lock made. She was late home for the second time in a week, and if she ran into her father right now, she knew there’d be hell. It’s not like she could be truthful to him as to why she was coming home late so often; that would only make things worse for her. Truth be told, she had been spending an awful lot of time with you, the new girl to the Losers Club whom she had developed a crush on. It took a lot of struggling with these feelings to come to that, too. She was sure she couldn’t be gay. But here she was, being gay, and if her father ever found out, he would surely kill her. 

Her footsteps creaked too loudly going down the hallway. Her breathing was too loud and too shallow to go unnoticed. She cringed at every sound that came from her direction. The t.v. was playing quietly in the other room, and she hoped with everything in her that her father had come home and fallen asleep in front of the set. 

“Oh, Bevvie, I hear you. Didn’t think you could sneak past dear ol’ daddy, did ya?” she heard his sickening voice call out, and a small gasp escaped her mouth. She stopped walking, stood frozen in the doorway to the living room. 

“N-no, daddy,” she said quietly, trying to calm the shakiness clearly evident in her voice. It took her father a long time to get up from his chair, and she considered running, but he was already facing her before she could make her decision. 

“Now, now, Bevvie. What’s a little girl like you doing out so late? And for the second time this week, no less,” her father asked, sauntering closer to her. 

“N-nothing,” she stuttered out, eyes dropping to the floor. 

“Don’t lie to me, Beverly!” her father suddenly yelled, causing her to flinch. “When I ask you something, you answer me truthfully!” She nodded curtly, still not daring to look her father in the eyes. 

“Now, tell me. Where were you, Bevvie?” her father asked once again, his condescending tone bearing down on her, being almost more than she can handle. 

“I was with my friend, (y/n),” Beverly said quietly, cursing herself for even using your name in a conversation with the monster in front of her. 

“(Y/n), huh? Interesting, Bevvie. That girl’s got a lot of rumors flying around her, you know. Some saying things like she’s a lesbian, you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” Her father trailed on, abruptly taking Beverly’s chin, forcing her to look at him. In fact, she did now about these ‘rumors’. They were true, too. You were out and proud in the town of Derry, a brave act for a kid such as yourself. And it wasn’t easy for you. Bev knew this, which is why she struggled so much with coming to terms with her own sexuality since she had met you. 

“I do know about the rumors, daddy,” Beverly responded, eyes not leaving his; partly because he was holding her chin, and partly because she was feeling more and more defiant as each second passed. 

“And why would you hang around a girl like that when you know these things about her?” his eyes were darkening now, blackened pools surrounded by milky white. But she wasn’t scared. 

“Because… because I’m gay, daddy. I’m gay,” Beverly said, eyes locking on her father’s, not daring to move. 

A  minute later, old Mrs. Peterson who lived in the apartment directly below the Marsh’s, heard a loud thump come from upstairs, followed by yelling. She did nothing.

 --

It was nearing eleven at night, but it was summer, so you had no real reason to go to bed. Because of this, you sat up in your room, one earphone on as you listened to your walkman, scribbling something in your journal like you did every night. Suddenly, something caught your attention. 

A light tapping was coming from your window, and you would have missed it entirely if you had both headphones on. You considered ignoring it, but curiosity got the best of you, and you stood up, making your way to the window. 

Shoving the window open, you saw a certain red haired girl whom you’d grown very fond of over the last few weeks standing in your back garden. She looked up at you, and you saw the cut splitting her eyebrow, and the way her blue eyes were bright in the way blue eyes only were after crying.  Gasping, you took the fire safety ladder your mom had screwed into your window sill, and threw it out the window, allowing Bev to climb up to your room. 

As soon as she had clambered in through the window, you pulled her into a tight hug, before holding her at arm’s length and observing her face. Beside the cut that you had been able to spot from the darkened outdoors, you noticed she also had a bruise on her left cheekbone, and another one on her collarbone. 

Silently, you took her hand and led her to the bathroom, gesturing to her to sit on the side of the tub as you got a med kit. You cleaned up the cuts and bandaged them, and only then, did you start a conversation with the girl. Squatting on the tiled floor in front of her, you looked into her eyes. 

“What happened, Bev?” you asked quietly, one hand on her knee. She looked down, avoiding your eyes, before speaking. 

“I’m gay. I came out to my dad, and he… he didn’t really take it too well, as you can see,” Bev said quietly. Your heart broke. You knew how hard it was to come out to people at first, and how it was even harder when people didn’t accept you.  You pulled her into yet another hug, and you could feel her shoulders heaving with sobs after a few seconds. You sat like that until she pulled away, wiping the tears from her eyes. 

“Thank you for all this,” she said, sending you a watery smile. 

“Anytime Bev. Remember, you always have me,” you said, squeezing her hand and returning the smile, “wanna sleep here tonight?” Beverly nodded gratefully, and you both headed back to your room.

 Tossing her a blanket, you put on some random VHS movie you had lying on the floor, and settled onto the bed, cracking jokes every once in a while to try and help Beverly forget about the evening. 

Eventually, she did, falling asleep on your shoulder with a smile on her face. 

[grownups-are-the-real-monsters]

I Can’t Tell You Why - The Kids Are Alright

Summary: Elton John has a boyfriend? 

Another one shot in the ‘Kids Are Alright’ Series

Words: 1,635

{Derry, Maine. Beverly’s room, 1976. 4:47 P.M. }

Beverly’s cuffed jeans rubbed against her ankles as she hopped on her bed and crossed her legs. Her hand fell over to grip the cherry red phone on her nightstand. She brought it into her lap like a child on Christmas morning, her face aglow as the cord wiggled. 

She brought the top up and pressed it to her ear as she dialed, tongue flicking over before she anxiously slid her fingernail between her teeth. “Mrs. Nelson? Is Clarice there?” She made her voice clear and tried to get rid of the nerves as the woman shuffled to give her daughter the phone. 

As she waited, the door to her room creaked open. “Hey Bev, you forgot your chemistry book.” Richie held it out to her, Ben trailed in hesitantly behind him. Beverly faltered a bit and opened her mouth to say something. 

“Bev!” Came a chirpy voice that made Beverly’s heart flutter. So she waved the phone a little to give them a hint. 

The boys nodded and took seats in nearby chairs, though Bev was kind of hopping they’d leave. She scratched behind her ear and trailed her hand through her hair. 

“Hey, Clarice it’s Bev-” She stopped herself as Richie chuckled. “I mean, you know that...” She awkwardly chuckled, waving her hand around. “Anyway...I was just calling because...” 

She trailed off again, eyes wandering over the open yearbook on her bed. In Clarice’s swoopy handwriting it read, ‘Call Me Sometime!!’ She blushed. 

“Yeah, I was hoping you’d call!” Clarice spoke softly but Beverly was near paranoid the boys could hear. “What do you say to dinner tomorrow? At the Hub?”

Beverly couldn’t believe it, she blushed again. “I would love that!” 

Clarice laughed and they made small talk as they came up with the exact plans before Beverly hung up. She set the top lip back down again and stared for a minute before reluctantly turning to face the boys. 

Richie was some how deep into one of her magazines. She scoffed and he held out his finger. “I’m taking a quiz to see if Donny Osmond is a good match for me.” 

Beverly tossed her pillow at him before awkwardly slouching, leg falling over the side of the bed to hang there. “Hey Ben.” She smiled and Ben smiled back. 

“So, who were you blushing about over there?” Richie teased, before glancing at Ben and remembering that he shouldn't. 

Beverly set the phone back on her nightstand and brushed her hair behind her ears. “Just...Clarice. From Algebra, remember?” She pointed her thumb back at the phone. “We ugh...we have a date tomorrow.” 

She didn’t want to say that with Ben in the room but she knew she had to. But Ben only grinned and maybe that felt worse. 

“Oh that’s groovy.” Richie said a little awkwardly. 

The room was overcome with an intense awkward silence. Beverly rubbed her finger under her nose and sighed. 

“That’s great Bev, You should probably wait a while before you introduce her to us... y’know Richie might driver her away.” Ben joked as if there was nothing bothering him. And he really didn’t look bothered, so for a moment, Bev believed that. 

She laughed. “You’re right.” 

“Well, I’m gonna go to the Hub, I’ll see ya.” He waved and turned out of her room. Richie shuffled up on his chair as Beverly’s head fell back so she could sigh in the direction of her ceiling. 

“Richie, am I doing the right thing?” She asked, voice wobbly. 

“Why do people always vent to me? Curse my trusting handsome face, right?” He tried to joke but Beverly only waited. So he frowned. “Yes, you are.” 

Beverly looked at him, unconvinced. “It’s just...God, I feel...I don’t know, ungrateful I guess? Two guys like me...and here I am going out with someone else like they don’t matter.” She waved her arms, remembering Marty’s Party and Disco night. Richie came over to sit next to her. 

“Bev, you aren’t ungrateful.You don’t owe them anything.” Richie set his hand on her arm, though discussing this hurt him in many ways. Knowing how Ben felt. And reminding him of how he felt for Eddie. 

Beverly rubbed the wet patch on her cheek. “Bill and Ben are your friends, they understand that.” He continued. “They got hung up on you, you didn’t hang them up.” 

“Yeah but....Surely I had something to do with it. I made them feel that way so shouldn’t I-?” Bev shrugged, not knowing how to continue. “I just feel responsible is all.” 

“My dad says Love is a responsibility.” Richie looked at her. “And I think it’s your responsibility to do what’s good for yourself.” 

Beverly smiled. “Thanks....Man, I need to calm down, huh?” She chuckled, rubbing her sleeve down her cheeks again. 

“I know just the thing for you right now.” Richie smirked.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

{Mike, Beverly, & Richie sat in a circle on Beverly’s bedroom floor. The room is filled with smoke.}

“Man! This always works.” Beverly smiled. 

“It does! Thanks for coming Mike.” Richie grinned, blowing smoke towards the ceiling. 

“Anytime!” Mike grinned wildly as Richie stared at Beverly. 

“What is it?” She chuckled. 

“Sometimes, I wish I was a lesbian.” Richie chuckled and Beverly rolled her eyes, not entirely sure what Richie meant....he probably wasn’t sure either. 

“I’m bisexual, Richie.” Bev corrected the dazed off boy. 

“I feel like we have a lot of things to say when we do this...I wish we could remember them later.” Mike frowned and Beverly nodded. 

“Yeah, we talk about some heavy stuff....Hey!-” Richie suddenly burst, causing Bev & Mike to jump. “If The Beatles and The Rolling Stones got into a fist fight, who’d win?” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stan sucked on his straw, trying to get the rest of his pop but mostly just got melted ice water as Eddie tapped out some song beat on the table anxiously. Stan raised his brow and turned to his little friend. 

“Do you know ‘Free Bird’?” Stan asked and Eddie furrowed his brows, still tapping. So Stan rolled his eyes and rested his hand over Eddie’s so he’d stop.

“Oh, sorry.” Eddie chuckled, taking his hand away. Stan flashed him a cheeky grin. 

“What’s got you all twitchy?” He asked, bumping their elbows together. 

“Nothing...” Eddie shrugged, looking off at the counter as he shrugged. Stan rolled his eyes, leaning back on his chair. 

“Ok, well if nothing’s bothering you, I’ll tell you about my day” Stan smirked and took a breath. 

“So, I should really start with the night before. I went into my routine, right? I made sure I had a bottle of water by my bed, on a coaster mind you, then made sure my pillows were-” 

“Wait, wait, shut-up.” Eddie held up his hand and Stan clamped his mouth shut with a full on smirk. “Look, it’s just....Richie likes me?” 

He phrased it as a question and Stan wasn’t sure if it was rhetorical or not. He waited and got nothing so he decided to speak. “Yes, he does.” 

Eddie blinked and sat back on his chair in thought. “Shit.” 

Stan pulled back a little. “Well, that doesn’t sound good.” 

Eddie frowned. 

“Does he have a shot with you?” Stan asked, eyebrow raised as he sipped on his left over ice water again. 

“No...I mean-ok, I don’t know.” Eddie shrugged. “We’ve just been friends since we were kids...and I was not a fun kid so I guess that says something.” 

“Yeah I remember.” Stan chuckled and Eddie glared. “Hey, at least I liked to play doctor with you.” He poked Eddie’s arm. “So how’d you find out?” 

“Disco night....he told me.” 

“And what did you say?” Stan widened his eyes, wondering what on earth Eddie could have said. Eddie blushed. 

“I told him to shut-up and dance...and then-” Eddie groaned, “Sang ‘Fernando’ “ He hid his face while Stan chuckled. 

“I just...I don’t if I even like guys.” Eddie leaned back and Stan sipped at his straw again. 

“It’s the seventies, Eddie! Embrace who you are! We can be the generation to start the change. And start treating sexuality as an open spectrum!-” Stan smiled, gesturing with his arms. 

“You sound like Mike.” Eddie chuckled. 

“Yeah, well he has the right mind-set.” Stan tapped his temple. “Think about it, have you ever like....looked at a guy?” 

“Yes, plenty of times.” Eddie shrugged and Stan rolled his eyes. 

“Not looked. I mean....Looked?” Stan trailed off and Eddie blinked a few times. 

“Shit.” Eddie widened his eyes comically. Stan smiled. 

“Y’know, I heard Elton John has a boyfriend?” Stan tried to make the realization a little less daunting on Eddie, who immediately looked side-tracked. 

“No? Really!?” He leaned his arms on the table as Stan nodded.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Beverly tucked her hair behind her ears, tilted her head and un-tucked it again. She sighed, rolling her shoulders back. 

Her high had worn off a while ago and she was back to being alone in her room as her record player played a static rendition of  ‘Ruby Tuesday’. 

The sun was setting on the day and it made her nervous, knowing what was coming tomorrow. But also excited. 

A real date....with a girl. 

She thought about Bill & Ben. 

‘Don't question why she needs to be so free She'll tell you it's the only way to be She just can't be chained To a life where nothings gained And nothings lost, at such a cost’ 

She took a long look at her reflection, her hair just barely skimmed her shoulders. Pools of soft orange light reflected in the window and created a tiny oasis in her collarbones. 

She shivered a little before getting ready to settle in for the night. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Those who wanted to be tagged!:  @birdy-boy-uris & @iammcclame

[transguydustin-old]

your boys soft rn so i wanted to make this post

this is gonna be a really personal post cause i’m probably too open about things

2017 has been a very good and bad year

february 4th i came out to my parents as a transgender boy but that was also the day my parents said they were going to be moving into different bed rooms

this year has been filled with transitioning socially and even a little physically as i started hormon blockers in late july !! but has also been filled with my parents going through the process of separating

in late may things seemed to be looking up as my parents moved back into the same room, but alas in october they went to sperate rooms again

this year has been filled with listening to my parents fighting like they don’t care their children are there but also with me coming out at school !! and going my noah and he/him pronouns !! and having my class mates react really well and respecting my name and pronouns !!

and i’ve opened up so much at school this year and i talk to more people and it’s been really nice

but my moms moving out when she kind find a place and my dads getting two roommates

and it’s been really hard for me to see the brightness thats been happening over the darkness which is very unusual for me as i usually always do that

but i got a tumblr in november, and though i hate this hell site a lot of the time it’s made me new friends and i’ve always had trouble keeping friends and i’ve lost strong connections with friends this year

and i feel like i sound like i giant baby complaining about all of so i’m gonna move on

i feel so validated by so many people on this site, though people on here can be hell the nice ones are literally the nicest people i’ve ever met

ighty i’m gonna talk about some peeps now

@softbutchbev i remember messaging you the first time and i was literally such an awkward shit and i was probably the most boring thing on the planet but when i joined the elmax discord we actually talked more and it was really cool !! and you were so nice !! and though you think mike hanlon would bottom for anyone that isn’t bev i love you !!

@lesbian-max okay bitch,, you were like the first person i actually had a conversation with on here when you messaged me about the funko comic shit (that’s still fucking funny) and we started talking more and you became my mom (you haven’t fed me in like 2 weeks help) and then i joined the elmax discord and we talked a whole lot more and you say really weird shit sometimes but i really enjoy talking to you !! i love you bitch !!

@lesbian-eleven you’re invalid cause you think mike hanlon is a bottom but overall you’re valid bitch !! you’re art is valid !! you’re a thot with a gf and that’s valid !! ily u valid thot !

also @bookstobands i haven’t talked to you in a while and i hope you’re doing okay !! you were the first person who messaged me and it was really cool !! ily !!

and just everyone in the elmax discord !! this is getting long so i’m not gonna specifically @ anyone anymore but you’re all so great !! you make my day so much brighter and i love you bitches !!

and quickly i wanna thank @mlmbyeler @lesbevvy @willmike for all being really nice to me y’all are great !!

i’m a soft bitch with a lot of anxiety so i’m gonna stop this now but i hope all you have a great 2018 !! y’all deserve the best you fuckers !!

[sorenserotonin]

The Losers as Things I’ve Done

Eddie: went home early every other day in 6th grade bc I “felt sick” during math class and three years later discovered i wasn’t actually sick i just had really bad anxiety

Stan: saw that my older sister was doing the dishes, then when she finished i moved everything because she didn’t put them in the dishwasher the way i like

Mike: got free golden amc movie tickets and waited 6 months so i could use them with my best friend

Bev: got a ken doll and didn’t use him bc i had already decided all my barbies were lesbians

Bill: broke into song when my stutter got bad and then said that my life is a musical and said “welcome to hell”

Ben: wrote a love poem about danny devito and then proceeded to show it to my therapist which caused her to laugh

Richie: constantly say i want danny devito to (1) lay eggs in me, (2) turn into a minion and f*ck me, (3) vore me, and (5) turn into a fish and love me, and then proceeded to call my friend nasty for saying she’s let Glenn Howerton piss on her if he wanted to, AND constantly escalate everything to a 10 and make “owo hewwo” jokes and then call a different friend a furry

[pieheda]

Queer, Reclaiming, and Umbrella Terms: A Slightly Less Furious Post

Today I was chastised yet again by someone much, much younger than me for using the umbrella term “queer.” I was informed that it’s a slur. 

I was referencing Cameron Esposito’s podcast Queery. I’m not really sure how to do that without saying the word queer. But such is the tumblr-verse.

Here are the reasons why I adamantly, and frequently angrily, take issue with the re-slurring of the word queer: 

1. First and foremost, queer is a word that makes life easier for people who (a.) do not fall into a single or simple category or (b.) wish to feel solidarity with their entire community without separating themselves into sub-classifications. I’m not sure which of these I’m more passionate about. I want to protect my fellow queers who don’t fit in, and protect their ability to define in a generalized way, who don’t want a label that feels confusing or difficult to explain. I do this BECAUSE I want to feel solidarity in my community. 

2. TERFs hate the word queer and are responsible for the q-slur movement. Sources from actual TERF hate sites. I’ve removed the hyperlinks here, but you can copy and paste if you like:  https://bugbrennan.com/2012/07/13/compulsory-heterosexuality-queerified/ https://bevjoradicallesbian.wordpress.com/2017/09/29/lesbianism-is-revolution-by-bev-jo/#more-1078 https://twanzphobic.wordpress.com/2014/08/28/jeffreys-on-the-degendering-of-womens-spaces/ (this site is particularly offensive. Proceed with caution).  https://privilegedenyingtranny.wordpress.com/ (also seriously awful, proceed with caution. Uses queer and trans interchangeably). http://thelesbianmafia-blog.tumblr.com/post/53305832090/our-answer-to-twitter-friend-dozz22s-question (TERF tumblr account. Just one of many offensive anti queer/trans posts)

The movement to make queer a slur starts with TERFs and it’s a TERF argument. That alone makes it worth fighting.

3. Historically it is a term of empowerment. Specifically, ACT UP coined the phrase “we’re here, we’re queer, get used to it.” Probably some of us olds have told you this before. There’s a reason why we’re passionate about this - we used this chant when the American government was literally going to just let a substantial number of us die from HIV/AIDS. This is, historically, one of the greatest acts of violence against LGBT people ever committed. It set back queer progress in America by decades specifically BECAUSE of how many of us died. The slurring of the word queer - and being admonished by our fellow community members for using it - is a stab in the back to those of us who fought this fight.  

Please stop and think about this. Modern issues like whether Clexa deserved better pale in comparison to watching half the people you know die while your government simply allows it to happen because they don’t care about you. There’s a reason why those of us who survived are passionate about the word queer.

4. Queer studies. The nature of a slur is that there is no setting in which you can use it and lose the strength of the slur itself. Even if I reclaim the word “dyke” (which I, as a lesbian, sometimes do), it still sounds harsh. Reclaiming has a certain fierceness to it, so if I use that word I accept that. This is why we have queer history, queer studies - but not dyke studies. 

5. But likewise, any word can be said in anger. All of our words have been wielded as weapons. I’ve been called “gay” in anger and “lesbian” as if it’s kinky/ridiculous/an insult. 

Now, there are in fact people who don’t like the word lesbian because of how it’s been used in their lives. They don’t call themselves lesbians. They choose another word, like wlw or queer. That’s fine. I’m not interested in yelling “YOU’RE A LESBIAN AND YOU SHOULD BE CALLED A LESBIAN” at members of my community. That’s pretty dickish. However, if I refer to lesbians collectively as lesbians, that’s objectively not offensive. Nothing in my intent is to offend, and I’m using the term from the inside, as a lesbian, in a way that is meant to describe people who I am like. Yes, it may rub a few people the wrong way, but without collective terms we have no way to BE a collective, which is deeply important in these current times. 

How straight people choose to oppress us isn’t the metric for what words are or are not slurs. And on that subject...

6. When you tell me, a fellow LGBTQIA+ person, what I am allowed to say... you sound kinda hetero. Up until the last year when the “q slur” thing really seemed to gain ground, the last person to tell me what words I’m not allowed to say about my own community and about myself was a straight white cis dude. He didn’t like me calling myself a dyke. He felt that this was unfair to straight people, that nobody anywhere should have language that belongs specifically to them. He also took issue with various people of color reclaiming slurs. 

The white cis hets who do this do it because they can’t stand a world that they aren’t allowed to control. The very proof of our oppression is their belief that they have a right to control how we describe and express our own selves. 

Fight people who tell you what you can say about your own self and your own community. Don’t do it to each other. 

7. We have bigger issues to deal with. Ultimately - and why I’m making one big mega post about it so that I can be done with it - if the biggest issue on your LGBT plate is whether or not queer is a slur, you are living a privileged life. I’m only going to speak for America because that’s where I live, but we have some massive issues to deal with regarding anti-trans violence, employment discrimination, poverty, gay conversion therapy, parental rights, even marriage rights because as of this year, counties in Texas and Alabama are still denying marriage licenses to gay couples. 

And maybe it’s not your biggest issue and you do care about those things. We can care about big and small things simultaneously. But ask yourself - why are you spending any time at all telling other queers whether or not they’re allowed to say the word queer? Why is any of your effort being spent on gate-keeping the language your community is allowed to use? Why is it that this one word has generated so many call-outs (hint - because TERFs are really good at doing to gays on tumblr what nazis are good at doing to conservatives on reddit)? 

You may ask why I’m putting so much energy into it (I wonder that myself sometimes), but it’s because I don’t like people sheep-herding me behind the gates in my own community. These are not your gates. You are not in charge of keeping them. They’re not my gates either, but as a reminder - I’m not saying what anyone should be forced to do. I’m saying what we should NOT be forced to do, which is the opposite of gate-keeping. And pushing back against gate-keepers is always a worthwhile cause.