#IT Fanfic

[princess-glassred]

Reddie fans will make anyone the villain in fanfics BUT Pennywise. Man why tf are butch bowers, Greta Keene, Henry Bowers, Myra Kaspbrsk, Connor Bowers, and Patrick Hockstetter all trying to destroy a royal wedding??

[through-the-white-noise]

your broken wings will learn to fly

a stan uris centric fic about a boy with scars and the friends who stand beside him

in a world where the Losers Club does kill It in the summer of 1989, Stan Uris can't manage to escape It until he makes a choice he doesn't intend to go back on

read on ao3

welcome to the reddiesance!!!

im so glad that I've been able to participate in this event and meet some amazing people as we've worked to honour the 5th anniversary of It chapter 2. check out the reddiesance tag to find everything else, because there are so many talented people

[cwcthzl]

every time a i see a fic where stan is dead but eddie is alive an angel loses its wings

[fandomsnfluff]

gameboy

summary: in which richie is a boomer and i wanted to write a little something after like a million years so have this short shitty fic that i only spent like an hour on lmfao genre: fluff warnings: mentions of weed & smoking read on ao3

“Hey, babe, have you seen my Gameboy?”

Richie had been scratching his head for a good twenty minutes, going through every nook and cranny and dirty pair of pants strewn across the floor of the bedroom as he searched for his gaming console. Even though Richie knew he was probably the messiest man in the world, it still felt like a complete mystery to him how such a familiar piece of equipment could go missing so easily.

“No,” came the yelled reply from the living room. It only made Richie feel only more quizzical. Where the hell could it be? He didn’t leave it in the other apartment, did he? Or God forbid he lost it during the chaos of the move.

“You sure?” he asked as he walked across the bedroom to stand at the doorway, immediately noticing the way Eddie shot to his feet from the couch, his hand flying to his right pocket as if he were hiding something.

It didn’t take very long for Richie to put the pieces together. “...You took it, didn’t you?”

Eddie’s only response was a brisk shake of his head. “No.”

Richie wasn’t fooled, managing to catch the way Eddie’s eyes darted to the left before he responded. He sighed. “Show me your fucking hands, Eddie.”

“Why would you wanna see my hands?”

Richie’s expression was deadpan, his lips pursing briefly before he suddenly sprinted in Eddie’s direction. But it seemed as though Eddie was ready for him with the way he darted out of Richie’s way, dashing to the other end of the living room toward the kitchen. He had always been more agile and a faster runner than Richie, but Richie had to wonder how his stamina would hold up against the weed hangover he must be experiencing. He was surprised at how much Eddie smoked last night; he had always been careful with his drug intake, never able to surpass the amount Richie had been able to smoke before. He guessed the other was just feeling a bit daring, but he wouldn’t complain. Especially if it meant Richie could regain the upper hand, dashing after Eddie until the two of them made nearly two whole laps around the floor.

They were two grown men chasing each other around the apartment like a couple of little kids.

But Richie didn’t care. All he wanted was to get his hands on Eddie, to do whatever he could to get his Gameboy back. And the opportunity presented itself when he managed to trap the other in the corner of the bedroom, taking complete advantage of their size difference by wrapping his arms around the smaller man’s shoulders, practically pushing him onto the mattress. Eddie struggled for a moment, a string of expletives falling from his lips as he attempted to dislodge himself from Richie’s grip. But Richie wasn’t having any of it.

“Last chance, motherfucker.”

“Come on, I gotta finish this level!”

“That’s my level! So I’m gonna be the one to finish it!”

“Well, too bad, bitch.”

Okay, that was the final straw. In what felt like one swift move, Richie’s whole weight was practically dropped onto Eddie’s lower half, completely pinning him to the bed before he gingerly brushed up against his side, wiggling fingers pushing his shirt up by the hem.

The reaction was instantaneous, Eddie’s eyes widening momentarily before giving a shriek of laughter, the Gameboy dropped and forgotten as he began to struggle in Richie’s grip. “GAH! Fucker! Nonononono please–” he attempted to beg breathlessly, kicking and squirming against Richie, before the bespectacled man began to spider against his ribs and dig into his underarm, breaking Eddie off and causing him to kick out with a gasp of breathless laughter.

“Oh, what’s this? Did I find your weak spot?” Richie couldn’t help himself from teasing Eddie, the Gameboy completely forgotten at this point. He quickly discovered that tickling Eddie was much more entertaining than playing the game anyway. He pinched the skin between the smaller man’s upper ribs and armpit, and Eddie just about screamed, straining against Richie’s arm as he kicked and writhed. Richie swore the corners of his mouth reached the tips of his ears as he watched the other’s face growing redder and redder by the second, the tears gathering in the corners of his eyes, the dimples in his cheeks almost becoming permanent with the more insistent he became. As if his heart hadn’t already swelled to fill his entire chest.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!?” Eddie shrieked, attempting to roll over onto his stomach as his whole body heaved with breathless and helpless laughter. Anything to get away from Richie’s insistent death grip.

“What’s wrong is I wanted to play my Gameboy but you stole it from me!” Richie shot back, shifting his weight to his knees to allow the other to continue squirming against him. He definitely wasn’t planning on using this position for something else, definitely not.

Until he reached behind him to gently scratch at the backs of Eddie’s knees.

Richie could feel Eddie’s regret for his decision to wear shorts as if it were his own, apparent in every move he made as another scream of laughter bounced off the walls of the room. Eddie flopped like a fish out of water, his legs kicking against the mattress so frantically that Richie could feel it bucking up and down underneath him. “FUCK! No, NO!” he screamed.

“No what? You’re gonna have to be more specific than that!” Richie teased, his fingernails dragging insistently against delicate skin as he leaned over to whisper teasingly into Eddie’s ear. Eddie’s only response was a noise somewhere between a frustrated groan and a wheezing laugh, more frantic kicks given to the mattress underneath them both.

“Don’t fucking tickle me, bitch!”

“You know how to stop this, you just gotta give me my Gameboy back,” Richie responded, his tone bright with amusement. Perhaps he was enjoying this too much, having this kind of power over Eddie. It was surprising that his sensitivity stuck around for this long; why not have a bit more fun with it? “Or, I could just keep tickling you, because I’m in the advantageous position right now, and it’s fun as shit!”

“DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE!” Eddie shouted through his giggles, beginning to squirm more insistently when Richie slid his fingers under the hem of his shirt. He began to lightly knead the skin, not quite tickling him yet, an obvious smirk spreading across his features.

“Oh, I dare, Eds.”

With that, Richie’s fingers were active again, gently yet insistently scribbling away at the skin right in the crooks of Eddie’s sides above his hips. The gesture used to make him lose his mind when they were kids, and it seemed as though the effects were still the same. Muffled screams of laughter were given against the pillow, and Eddie began to buck and squirm and kick for dear life, unable to dislodge Richie’s weight no matter what he did. “FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK OKAY OKAY STOP STOP STOP I’LL GIVE IT BACK!”

“See, that wasn’t so hard, now, was it? Now I can–” Richie’s sentence was abruptly cut off at the sound of plastic and metal hitting the wood floor. He could feel his heart sinking to his toes at the noise that reminded him of glass shattering on pavement, and one glance over the side of the bed was enough to confirm his suspicion.

“FUCK!”

[when-the-spagheddie-hits-the-fan]

LOSERS PROFESSIONAL WRESTLING AU

I was inspired by some lovely people on my Dircord Group when they were shooting some ideas about this, and talked to my Spouse, who knows more about wrestling dynamics and stuff, it got real long. So if you're curious here you go!

-Stan was a wrestler for "The Big Company" but left to start his own company, and started scooping other wrestlers. He was looking for wrestlers that he knows could be so much more. His main talking point is basically, ‘Aren't you tired of _____, don't you just want to go ape shit?’

His role is “The Manager”, he deals with management but he still performs in the ring.

(Even if Stan isn't mentioned for each character just know that he's the reason they decide to join him)

—

-Bill is a "Face", the good guy. He can do no wrong, he wins like all the time and he’s a legacy. Because of this glorified favoritism people start to view him more as a "Tweener", in this case that's a face that gets jeered.

But there was a specific point when this started to happen.

—

-Richie is this trash talking “Heel”, a bad guy. He’s broad and naturally strong but his favorite way to take down an opponent is with his mouth (lol). He’ll smack talk anyone to the point where they’re so angry they’re unable to think, and then Richie has a much easier time taking them down. This place is way better than the last place he wrestled. There he was also too much of everything but here he can finally be himself AND the people like him even more for that.

The first time Richie went against Bill is pure chaos. Richie, as always, is shooting off his mouth, and is thriving but Bill? Bill is losing, bad. No one has ever seen him fuck up this much before. This is a side of him no one's ever seen before. You can tell Richie is having a blast, and the audience is loving it. This is the start of Bill becoming a tweener and his story arc can begin (TBC).

Eventually, Richie will have a soft face turn, meaning he's gonna have a gradual shift in character and become a face but he'll still have heel tendencies. You can take the mouth out of the trash but you can't take the trash out of the mouth.

—

-Eddie, who was seen as small and not as capable, was a “Jobber”, a wrestler whose main job is to lose. Stan could tell there was so much more potential in Eddie, potential that shouldn't be contained. You know when you’re working retail and no matter how terrible a client is, you never talk back? Now imagine this person, for the first time in their life, is let loose and allows themself to go off. That’s Eddie. He’s been stifled his whole life, now that he’s free he’s never going back in that box again.

Eddie is way stronger than he looks and faster. And because of his size it's hard to keep a grip on him, he's just this feral little thing.

Of course Richie was shooting off his mouth when Eddie went up against him, definitely making cracks about how short he is. Before Richie is able to finish one of these quips Eddie runs full speed at Richie, spider monkey crawls over him, and with ease sends him flying over his shoulder (if you blinked I’m sorry but you missed it). Richie lands hard on his back and is stunned, he had no idea Eddie was that strong. Eddie steps on his chest and with a smirk asks, “Is that all you got, big guy?” and Eddie clearly said this loud enough so only Richie could hear him. (Richie will definitely be saving this moment for later////) Btw, Richie lost that match.

—

-Bev used to be in an all women’s league. She usually had a great time and it was a great way to get her stress and anger out but she had to deal with a lot of bullshit backstage. The league kept trying to push her into roles she didn't want, and because of the roles people started perceiving her in a cruel unflattering light. Stan saw someone that was bursting with creativity and has a fire that needs to burn.

With Bev finally having the freedom to express herself; she models her new outfit after the phoenix. It's stunning and sparkly. She also helps enhance everyone else's looks for their outfits, and makes sure they're functional for that person's movements and fighting style.

—

-Ben is not a wrestler even though people have been telling him he should since he was young because of his size. But he's never been able to fully commit, he's too much of a big teddy bear for that. I was thinking he could be a referee. He's very fair, and because of his build he's able to  de-escalate a situation and get the match back on track.

He's still a part of the performance. A well known weakness of his is Bev. And no, not like a ‘he favors her in the matches so he makes sure she always wins’ kind of way. Bev does not need his help and he knows that, and he respects her (and the rules) too much for that bullshit. I think a fun thing would be that tag matches happen and Bev's teammate is in the ring, Bev can easily distract him and get all his attention on her just by talking to him. It's a nice way for Bev's team to get some illegal hits in, and it really riles up the crowd. 

—

-Mike is an unknown, and a late addition. His role is rare, it's “Educational”. Most of the time, these are wrestlers that were formerly a real-life student, or scholar or worked similar jobs, like a librarian in this case. Mike is extremely well versed in professional wrestling (and its history), and though Mike looks like he could do well in ring, he's got a more natural strong build thanks to past farmer's work, no one will give him a chance because they think his gimmick is boring and lame. Stan thinks that's bull. Mike's the full package, he's got the brains and brawn.

For instance, when Mike does his speech before his match with Bill, he performs it like it's a lecture and explains why Bill has no chance of winning, and it's so inspiring and entertaining and well executed that it ignites a new passion in the audience that they didn't realize that they had for the sport.

Also, he loves his dorky phrases, like “I'm gonna throw the book at you!”, “Mind if I check you out?!”, “A book in the hand is worth two on the shelf!”, and “Support your local libraries!” (Richie is a big fan of this)

—

-Patty eventually comes on as a Co-Manager. Her and Stan work really well together, and she's taller than him (a fact that needed to be known). She's also a Jack-of-all-trades, she can do just about anything you need on the ring. She's the person you call when you need to spice things up. She also matches well with everyone, whether their her foe or ally.

Fun fact: She is so kind and gentle, a real pleasure to be around, and she can out drink anyone and then some. And that isn't something you're naturally born with. Patty has a past, and she may or may not tell wildly different stories when asked about it (all done for a good laugh of course).

—

Some more about Bill (because it would have been too spoiler up there)

Because Bill is a legacy he's been training his whole life to continue this family tradition, and that's a lot of pressure. And his dad sucks. And his old management sucks. And this role he feels forced to play sucks. He is so bored and is fucking tired of playing the perfect golden child. And Stan can clearly see this, and can tell that Bill is more than a one trick pony.

So Bill loses to Richie, and that's when the people start to turn on him. Bill is okay with this, more than okay actually. It's been so long since people were genuinely reacting towards him. So he loses to Eddie, Bev, Mike, and Ben keeps calling him out for illegal moves. It gets to the point where Stan and Patty have to make him an example in the ring for everyone to see.

Bill has fallen from his pedestal. Everything he worked so hard to build is broken. Now he can make something better.

(I haven't brought up wrestler names, besides like Richie being Trashmouth, I only came up with Bill's because of his story. Just wanted to say that before this next part.)

The next time Bill is in the ring he's no longer Billy the Kid, now he goes by The Lone Ranger! He fully embraces being a tweener, he's an anti-hero.  And everyone agrees, it fits him real good.

[whiskeytangofxckers]

I'm going crazy trying to remember this fanfic like it's basically eddie died but then an alternate dimension version of him shows up at richie's place saying it's his and richie died in his dimension or something like that. it's honestly been years since i've read it but like it popped into my head and i'm going crazy thinking about it

[its-all-ineffable]

Hello fellow IT fans and Reddie shippers!

Help me out if you could - my massive multichapter fic that's essentially a chapter 2 fix-it, making the Loser's as close as adults as they were as kids, needs a name.

Tagging some people who helped me decide what to do with my fic last time! @sunshinereddie @thatsclownshit @imsodonewiththissite @dirty-teeth @kittyphoenix12-xx @thesynysterunknown @ash-ley-suns

[canislupus-exe]

In Your Corner | bill denbrough

>>gif credit to @/beenchillin on tumblr<<

fandom | IT: Chapter One

character | Bill Denbrough

reader | (disabled) they/them (she ver.)(he ver.)

requested | anonymous

warnings | cursing, ableism

word count | 1,131

keys | (Y/n) = Your name

summary | Hi! Could I request a Bill Denbrough x disabled!reader? Where Richie compares (y/n) to a bike and tries to ride their wheelchair while (y/n) is still in it- and bill tells him to fuck off? I just think bill would understand 🥺💕

editor | @feliscatus-exe

>> back to prev <<

Keep reading

You hummed quietly as you pushed against the wheels of your chair. Approaching your best friend’s driveway was the only way you could hang out with him, seeing how inaccessible his front door was. If you thought too hard about it, it didn’t give you the best feeling in the world, so you tried not to.

You saw him sitting on the floor, sketching in his notebook somewhat mindlessly. Upon hearing your quiet hum, he flipped a few pages ahead to a blank one. Looking up at you, he squinted from the sun shining in his eyes but smiled.

“H-Hi (Y/n). You’re the f-first to get here so we can wait for everyone else.” He said, standing up and moving to the couch his dad had put in the garage a few months ago. He realized how much more inclined he was to hang out there now that he was friends with you.

His parents were lovely, but he started to pick up on the sudden stiffness and overall negative feelings you had when they said certain things. About how they were sorry and glad Bill was so kind, which he was. It was one of his greatest qualities, but it was as if they only thought he was your friend because he was so kind.

“That’s alright. What were you drawing?”  You asked casually, backing your chair into the space of the wall that was just the right fit. You remembered when he moved aside a table so he could sit next to you. It was one of the moments that made you feel your heartbeat in your stomach, as he so often did.

“Oh, n-n-nothing. Just practicing shape l-language for objects.” He replied, sitting on the cushions in a way that made it easier to look at you. 

“Really? What are you trying to learn to draw?” You asked. He shrugged.

“Nothing in p-p-particular. I just think it’s a g-good skill to have.” He replies, closing his sketchbook and setting it aside. You smile and nod.

“Do you know when the other Losers plan on joining us?” You asked leaning on the arm of your chair.

“Right now.” A voice called from behind. You looked over your shoulder to the garage entrance, watching Richie, Eddie, and Stan enter. You smiled and waved, which only Stan returned. 

“What are we doing here? You never told us.” Eddie says, sitting on the far end of the couch. You were never sure why, but he always seemed much more tense. You could come up with a few reasons, but they weren’t good ones, and you hoped those weren’t the case.

“J-J-Just a movie night. I made popcorn and st-ocked the drinks.” Bill replied. You begin to self-propel toward the fridge in the far left corner of the room. You looked inside, seeing mostly cokes and water. You opted for the latter.

“Plus, if we run out, we can hop on (Y/n)’s wheelchair. They’re basically a bike.” Richie says with a snicker, placing both his feet on the back of your chair and causing you to become unsteady. You yelp in surprise, immediately swatting him off. You turn your chair to face him, a look of panic on your face.

“What the fuck Richie?” You shout. He raises his eyebrows.

“What?” He asks, lacking a single modicum of self-awareness. You’re so flustered and upset that you find it difficult to articulate your feelings. Bill stands up from the couch, stepping between Richie and yourself.

“Y-You can’t say shit like that Richie!” Bill exclaims, his ears turning red from anger as they always did.

“Why are you guys freaking out?” He asks, raising his arms in exasperation.

“C-Comparing (Y/n) to a bike? You don’t get why that’s f-f-f-fu-fucked up!?” He shouts, finding it harder to speak due to his anger.

“No? It was a good thing. Bikes are cool and they’d be helping us to the store.” He replied. 

“It’s fine Bill. Don’t worry about it…” You mumble, trying to maneuver around him.

“N-no (Y/n) I am w-worried about it,” Bill says, turning to look at you. There was a look in his eyes that made you feel warm and safe. 

“They said don’t worry about it so I think-“

“Fuck off Richie!” Bill yells as he whips his head around to stare at him, not a stutter in his voice. Richie backs away with his hands up in surrender.

“Whatever dude.” He mumbles, sitting next to Eddie on the couch.

You were thankful Bill was so quick to defend you, but the confrontation still made you uneasy and guilty. You wheeled your chair out of the garage and onto the driveway, stopping when you heard Bill coming after you.

“Where are you g-going? Are you ok-kay?” He asks, walking by your side. You sigh and stop wheeling yourself forward. You say nothing at first trying to figure out how to put your thoughts into words. Bill walks in front of you, so he can see you while you talk, a simple gesture but something so thoughtful.

“You’re the only one who treats me… Well, normal… Richie always has something to say, Eddie avoids me like he’s going to catch something and I just… I hate it.” You mutter, folding your hands in your lap. Bill sighs as he crosses his arms.

“I w-wish there was more I could do. I t-t-tell Richie all the time to quit his shit but he-“

“It’s not you Bill. You do more than enough. Sometimes it feels like you’re the only person I have in my corner.” You say, looking up to meet his eyes. He smiles, his eyes holding that same shine that made you feel so warm and safe.

“Y-You know, that’s exactly how I feel.” He replies. You tilt your head in confusion. Bill rubs his neck bashfully before shrugging. 

“You’re the only one who ever t-tells them to stop making fun of my s-st-stutter. Sometimes it feels like y-you’re the only one in my c-corner.” He replies. You smile, a warm glow rushing to your cheeks.

“We can be in each other’s corner.” You reply, giddily grabbing his hand. It takes you a second to realize what you’ve done before pulling back.

“S-Sorry I was just-”

“No! It’s okay!” He grabs your hand again, this time intertwining your fingers. “I l-like being in each other's corner.” 

“Pinky promise?” You ask, holding out your pinky. He chuckles and locks his pinky around yours.

“P-Pinky promise.” He replies.

“Now let’s go watch the m-movie. If Richie says anything else I’ll j-just kick him out.”

“Since when are you Mr. tough guy?” You ask with a giggle.

“S-Since I had to be in someone’s corner. I-it’s a tough job you know.”

[naeleys]

MASTERLIST

HOUSE OF THE DRAGON

an heir for a heir — jacaerys velaryon twin

more to come soon…

GAME OF THRONES

dragons blood — a got fanfiction [multiple targaryen oc ]

more to come soon…

PERCY JACKSON AND THE OLYPIAMS

coming soon…

IT [2016 & 2019]

coming soon…

TWILIGHT

coming soon…

HARRY POTTER

coming soon…

THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY

coming soon…

[unfinishedslurs]

Flip of a coin

(I got really into Richie and Patty fics for a while so this is based off all the ones I read. Which was every single one published before roughly halfway into 2021)

Patty remembers that Stan always had a strange obsession with Richie Tozier.

He kept up with the news around him, watched his specials even though he rarely laughed and hated them with a passion. I don’t know why, Babylove, he’d say, but I don’t think he writes his own stuff. Have you seen his interviews? They’re much funnier. It was one of his little oddities, like his need to buy every Bill Denbrough book ever published, or buy clothing from the Rogan&Marsh line, even though he’d never much cared for fashion. These obsessions made a lot more sense after Stan’s hastily scratched letter, detailing a clown and impossible things that Patty clung to in a desperate attempt to rationalize.

She knows, distantly, though gossip and magazines at the store, that he’d broken down on stage the same day Stan died. She knows he’d cancelled all his future events, made a serious video where he confessed the ghostwriters, came out as bisexual, and said he was going to take a break from comedy.

According to the internet, he’s currently on a cocaine binge in Guatemala. According to Patty’s eyes, he’s in Georgia, looking less like a man on cocaine and more like a man whose life had been steamrolled with no idea what to do with the empty space left behind.

“Patty Uris?”

She looks at him, and sees a tragedy told in three parts. A greeting, some growing, a goodbye. She looks at him, and sees a mirror.

She looks at him, and knows he sees her too.

“Blum-Uris, actually,” she says, and opens the door to let him inside.

—

“You could always try voice acting.”

“You sound like my manager. I came here to get away from my manager.”

—

Richie makes Patty laugh for the first time since Stan died

—

Richie has a nice chest for crying, she thinks, and hysterical laughter tumbles out with her tears.

—

“It’s just…I love them. I do. They’re my family, God, they deserve every happy ending they get, but I’m jealous. I’m jealous and angry and I don’t understand why they get to move on when...”

“Our happy ending was with them.”

“Yeah, that.”

They stayed silent for a while, until Richie breaks it by taking a swig and saying, “Bev’s pregnant.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, she’s freaking out about it. I don’t think they meant to have a baby this soon. Or ever. I don’t think they realized that with the clown gone they could have a baby. And she just got out of her shitty marriage after her childhood with a shitty dad, and…yeah, it’s not all sunshine and rainbows. She’s had about five panic attacks since she found out.”

“When did she find out?”

“Yesterday.”

Patty isn’t resentful. She thinks of all the years she and Stan spent trying to conceive, and how they eventually decided they’d be better off waiting anyways. They’d looked up adoption agencies a few times, but ultimately agreed it wasn’t the right time. She isn’t sure whether she’s grateful they never got around to it, that she doesn’t have to be a parent all on her own on top of everything else, or if the fact that she could have a piece of Stan right now, a small, babbling infant with his eyes and blood, makes her want to cry. Probably both.

She isn’t resentful, but she is jealous. It doesn’t matter. She’s a big girl, she can handle it.

She is going to be the best aunt ever.

“Do you think she’d appreciate another girl talking her through it?”

“Probably. You should call her and see.” He takes another long pull. “They want to name it after one of them. Stan or Eddie. Maybe both. She asked me to ask you whether you’d be okay with that.”

It takes a minute for that to register, and another five to get around the ache in her throat. “That’s…he’d love that.” He would. He’d pretend it bothered him, or that he wouldn’t want it, but he’d probably cry the minute he heard it.

Traditional, too, to name the baby after him, though she wasn’t sure he’d care so much about that part. She doubted his friends even realized.

“That a yes?”

No. “Yes.”

—

“He said…Patty,” he sobs. “Patty, he loved me back. He loved me back, but it didn't matter because he died and he’s gone and I spent two months begging and praying and getting drunk off my ass and it didn’t matter because he’s fucking dead.”

“It mattered to him, Richie.”

“Not enough to survive. Not enough to fucking say it without choking on the fucking blood in his mouth just to say—” he chokes the words down.

She rubs his back. “Don’t let it fester,” she reminds him, and the dam breaks.

“Why the fuck didn’t I just say it?” He explodes. “Why the fuck did I spend my entire fucking childhood pining for his firey ass when we could have had some fucking time? Why didn’t he say something? If he’d just fucking said it sooner, said anything…he was always the brave one between us. And it ended up with him fucking dead, and me on this fucking couch with you crying over misssed opportunities like a fucking…I dunno, Pats.”

“I know.”

“I don’t mean I don’t like sitting here with you,” he adds unnecessarily. They both know it’s unnecessary. She lets him do it anyway. “I just wish we were bonding over fucking…wedding photos or some shit.”

If she lays her head back and closes her eyes, she can picture it.

—

Patty breaks her fist on the wall.

It was bound to happen eventually. She’s been cycling through the anger stage of her grief for a month. Something was going to give.

Not the wall, though.

Richie takes her to the hospital.

“Sorry,” she says on the way there. She thinks she may be crying. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, it just happened, I swear—”

“Patty.”

“I’m sorry,” she says again. She’s not talking to Richie anymore. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”

She doesn’t realize that he’s pulled over until he’s grabbing her by the shoulders and pulling her into his arms, both of them leaning uncomfortably over the gearshift. She doesn’t mind.

“I don’t understand,” she sobs into his chest. “I don’t know what I did wrong. Why couldn’t he just stay?

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Richie says. She thinks she can feel him shaking. “It…he made his choices.”

She pulls away, suddenly furious. “That’s the problem! He fucking made that choice! He deliberately decided to leave me! And everyone says that he must have been suffering, that he must have been secretly unhappy, but I know better. We were fucking happy! Life wasn’t fucking perfect, but it was good. And he threw it all away, for—for what? What the hell was it all for?”

“I dunno, Pats, I think it was to save me and my friends,” Richie says dryly, and she knows, okay, she knows she’s angry, she knows he uses humor as his coping mechanism, she knows those two things can make a deadly combination that will leave ash in her mouth for weeks.

She says it anyways. “And look how well that worked out.”

His face shutters, and the regret comes pouring in as he turns back to the steering wheel without saying anything else. “Richie…”

“I know,” he says, holding up a hand. “I know you didn’t mean it. Let's get you to the hospital already.”

The rest of the drive is silent.

—

“Richie, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Pattycakes. I forgive you.”

“I know, but I need to say it anyways, because I’m glad you’re here, Rich. I want you here. It’s just…”

I wish things were different.

“I get it.”

“Yeah.” He doesn’t, not really, but it’s the closest thing she has. Just like she’s the closest thing he has. They’re two sides of the same coin, aren’t they?

“I blame him sometimes, you know?” Richie admits quietly. “For Eddie. It was supposed to be the seven of us…sometimes I think we could have all made it out, if he hadn’t been such a fucking—” he breaks off, taking his glasses off to rub a hand over his face. “Sorry.”

“No, I get it.”

They smile at each other, bitter things in a bitter world, because she knows Richie’s thinking the same thing she just was. She doesn’t get it, not really, but she knows better than anyone the pain of loving and hating Stanley Blum-Uris.

Flip of the coin. Heads, a life together, tails, a life apart.

—

They’re not filling the holes in each other’s lives. They’re too…them for that. There’s nothing romantic about the way Patty will sometimes make Richie’s coffee with two sugars and no cream and break down, or the days Richie will get a far off look in his eye when she does, and then they’re both mourning two different kinds of loss. They’ll never know how Eddie liked his coffee, after all.

Nothing romantic about the nights Richie wakes up screaming Eddie’s name either. They both have nightmares, but Patty’s are quieter.

They’re not filling the holes, but they’re not not filling them either. Hole-adjacent. The ache in Richie’s voice when he says Pats instead of Eds, the equal aching in her chest when she wakes up to see a dark head that isn’t her husbands.

So, no, they’re not in love. She doesn’t feel that way about him. Doesn’t think she could, even without the dead hovering over their shoulders like shrouds. They’re too similar in their differences, not each other’s types, any number of reasons they could never fall in love.

Sometimes, though, she wishes they did. Wishes Richie were the one she met at that party, wishes Richie wore a matching wedding band to the one she’s moved to her right finger.

She knows it’s less about Richie, though, and more about not feeling like she’s being picked at from the inside out. The fantasies are there because he is, not of any actual desire for a romantic connection. Doesn’t stop her from dreaming.

She only voices it to him once.

“Do you think, if things were different, we would have made a good couple?” Patty doesn’t really think so, or want to think about it, but the wine is making her maudlin and she misses him. Misses Stan so much her insides feel like a bag of rocks that’s just waiting to split open and spill out every part of her. She hates it, the missing. More than anything.

Richie snorts.

“No, really.”

“Maybe, Batty-Patty,” he says, shooting her a grin that misses humor by a mile.

She laughs at that. “I am batty for asking, aren’t I?”

“I wasn’t going to say anything.” He did, just through the name, but she won’t point it out.

“We’re not compatible.”

“Nope.” He punctuates it with a drink.

“I wish we were,” she says fiercely. “I wish I’d fallen in love with you instead.”

He lowers his glass, expression somber, and watches her for a minute. Whatever he sees in her face makes his mouth quirk.

“You don’t mean that,” he tells her.

“I want to.”

“And I want to have not wasted my career parroting other people's bullshit. It is what it is, Batsy.”

That makes her giggle, despite herself. “Batsy?”

“What, you don’t like it?”

“I love it,” she says. She does. It’s fitting. “Pour me another glass.”

He indulges her, then himself. “We never could have been a good couple,” he says, trying and failing to seem flippant, “but, you know, my mom always wanted me to have a sister.”

“A sister, huh?” She stares at him, considering. “Is that what we are? Siblings?”

“Well, no,” he shrugs, “but I think it fits better than anything else.”

—

They make a chore chart.

It’s kind of dumb, Patty thinks. Objectively. They’re not college kids, they should be able to do housework on their own, without prompting.

She and Stan had never needed one.

But that’s the whole problem, isn’t it? Stan’s gone, and Richie’s here, and they both have days where they can’t even get out of bed, much less remember to make dinner or wash the dishes. The chart helps. It helps a lot.

—

Patty doesn’t sing much anymore.

—

She and Richie both have a four drink limit, established sometime between the third time Richie finds her sobbing in the bathtub, and the seventh time Patty finds him comatose on the floor. They pretend not to notice when the other breaks it.

[domilino]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: IT - Stephen King, IT (Movies - Muschietti)

Relationships: Henry Bowers/Original Female Character(s), Henry Bowers/Lizeth "Liz" Johnson Characters: Henry Bowers, Lizeth "Liz" Johnson Additional Tags: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort(??, Emotional Hurt(??, Mention of medication and pill consumption, Mention of harmful habits (substance "consumption"), Vulnerability, discomfort, mention of vomiting, neither of them is okay, Henry does the best he can even though he doesn't know much, Henry cares deeply for Lizeth, Henry affectionate(??, Henry and Lizeth are between 15 and 16 years old, Mention of underage substance use, Cigarettes, serious health problems, One or both of them are mentally unstable, probably both are mentally unstable now(?, Too many problems for two adolescents, Teenage problems., Lizeth has terrible health, poor Lizeth

¿ . . . ?

Henry woke up.

He was sweating, feeling his body cold; clearly showing signs of nervousness.

The boy had had another one of those horrible dreams, a "nightmare" as others called it.

Henry got up from his place, while looking into the complete darkness; his eyes hadn't adjusted to the darkness yet.

After a few moments and confirming that he wasn't in his room, but in Lizeth's room, he turned slightly to look at the bed, which was completely empty.

"Lizzie?" Henry got up from the mattress on the floor and began to slowly explore the room.

How many times had he come to Lizeth's room?

How many times did he check Lizeth's room to see if there was any different detail?

Perhaps too many times to count.

Apparently everything was the same as the last time he visited that place; posters of bands, movies, and cartoons were stuck on the wall. The shelves were filled with hand-decorated boxes containing cassettes and vinyl records of all her favorite music, plus a few crafts.

The study table was in the same place as always, empty and tucked away in a corner.

The "creativity" table (as Henry had baptized it) was still the same or perhaps worse, as it was a mess Lizeth referred to as disorder.

Yes, everything was the same.

Maybe…

Henry approached the dresser, opening several drawers randomly, where he only found more boxes and makeup.

Henry made a slight sound of disgust.

"she thinks I'm stupid" said Henry, and then began to search through the dresser drawers.

After a rather short while, he found what he suspected… A box of cigarettes, hidden deep in the drawer in an attempt to "camouflage" it. In addition to this, he also found medicines and pills that Lizeth was supposed to no longer take because she had improved.

Henry put the cigarette box in his pants pocket and headed for the door of the room.

He slowly exited the room, peeking his head out to see if anyone else was awake at… two in the morning? Probably… So when he didn't see anyone lurking, he began to walk. Quietly approaching the bathroom.

The bathroom was at the end of the hallway, its door was closed but it was known that someone was inside, the light was on and it was trying to escape from under the door.

Once he arrived, his hand grabbed the lock and opened the door, causing the person inside to scream in fright.

Lizeth looked at Henry, she seemed almost nervous about the boy's presence.

Henry looked at Liz, and noticed she had a toothbrush in her hand.

He returned her gaze.

"What are you doing in the bathroom at this hour?" Henry asked.

But there was no response…

Lizeth swallowed nervously, glanced at the boy for a moment, and then returned her gaze to washing her hands.

She was avoiding him, didn't want to look at him.

Lizeth carefully placed the toothbrush back in its place.

"Since when do you smoke?" Henry asked again.

"What?" Lizeth looked at Henry, her brow furrowed. "Did you go through my dresser?"

"That's not an answer, Liz."

She doesn't really know what to tell him, or rather, she doesn't know what excuse to give him, because he already knows them, even if she's never told him, he'll know it's a complete lie.

"Why do you smoke?"

"It's none of your business, besides, you do it too."

"Just because I do it doesn't mean you can, especially with that shitty health of yours, Lizeth."

Lizeth felt her body go cold. That meant he had found not only the cigarettes but also the medication.

She also began to feel a headache coming on…

Henry leaned against the door frame, arms crossed, looking at Lizeth.

She hadn't moved an inch from her spot. She kept her head down, as if she were fragile.

"You scolded me so many times not to do it, and in the end, you're doing it yourself," Henry spoke in an almost sarcastic tone. "You shouldn't do it, you know, because when you're thirty, you'll have the lungs of a ninety-year-old."

It wasn't normal, and truth be told, it was so strange to see her like this; vulnerable, as if she had done something terrible that no one was supposed to know about.

"Did you throw up, didn't you?"

She nodded slightly.

Then she heard a sob.

She's trembling.

Guilt is consuming her…

"Screw you, Lizzie, I'm not scolding you or anything. That's your brother's job." He approached the girl carefully and she hugged him.

Henry wasn't a professional at consoling people, in fact, one could say he wasn't the right person for that moment. But right now, there was only him, and consoling her was the least he could do. After all…

She kept her head resting on his shoulder. She continued to sob in complete silence.

"You're a crybaby" he mentioned, looking at Lizeth. "Do you want to watch a movie? We can watch Frankenstein if it makes you feel better."

Henry hated Frankenstein with all his heart, but he knew that was her favorite movie.

She nodded in response. Again.

Henry and Lizeth broke apart from the hug. He turned off the bathroom light and then took the girl's hand to return to the room.

Maybe asking how she felt, if she wanted to talk, scream, cry more, or something really good and constructive would have been better than asking if she wanted to watch a movie. But somehow he knew that if he asked, it would be worse, and if she hadn't had the courage yet to tell him, neither before nor now, it must be for a reason. Therefore, avoiding the problem and distracting her mind a little with something Lizeth would like was the best option —and the only one he could think of— at that moment.

"You know, I want to skip class, I'm not in the mood," she confessed, looking at the boy.

"Lizzie saying she wants to skip class on a Monday? I never thought I'd live long enough to witness that."

Lizeth gave him a weak punch on the shoulder, which only elicited a chuckle from him.

"You're an idiot, Henry."

"Thanks, I already knew."

She smiled.

"Thanks" she thanked him.

Henry smiled too, well, just a little.

"Oh, by the way, don't ever go through my dresser again, I keep private stuff there."

"Ignoring your makeup, what do you keep there, huh? Plans to overthrow the school principal? Your underwear? A weapon? Hopefully not a weapon because that would be very weird."

Lizeth gave him another punch on the shoulder.

"What? I didn't go through your entire dresser. Drama queen."

"You're a complete pervert" Lizeth insulted.

"Congratulations, you discovered something you already knew."

They had already reached Lizeth's room.

Lizeth let go of Henry's hand to approach her bed and lie down.

"Damn, I'm tired…" Liz complained as Henry turned on the TV in the room. "The VHS is already in." she mentioned, and almost immediately the movie's introduction began to play.

Henry also approached the bed and lay down next to Lizeth.

He put his arm around her, and she gave him a soft kiss on the cheek.

"I love you, Henry."

NOTES:

I wrote this a few weeks ago, I've been editing and translating it, and finally, here it is. I apologize for my English, I'm really improving little by little.

I HOPE YOU LIKED IT!

[princess-glassred]

Here's a very silly idea i had for a little losers club misadventure:

It's the school's annual track and field day and all the loser's club kids are excited to participate, most of them have at least some rudimentary knowledge of sports and some of them even have some skill like Mike and Bev, so they're all very pumped. Even the people who are not very good at sports like Richie and Eddie are still pumped because Richie gets to run around willy nilly and Eddie gets to do something different than just lay in his house with his mom all day. Their fun day hits a snag though after the first round of games ends and everyone takes a break to check the rankings so far and the gang notice Henry Bowers is miraculously last place in all of them.

Henry might be strong and fast but he only knows how to use it in regards to violence or bullying, things like teamwork, following the rule book, and even listening to people telling you how to play the game is lost on him so he winds up in last place everytime. Take the violent blood lust, bigoted opinions, and trauma from this guy and you're just kinda left with a kid who doesn't actually know how to do much because he just bullies people all the time. Go figure.

The loser's think this is actually reallh funny at first until Stan points out how if Henry humiliates himself in a masculine competition like this, ESPECIALLY to them, he'd probably be in a pissed off mood for months and take it out on every member of the group. He'd be extra violent, extra mean, extra cruel, it'd be like when he got braces, but, like, a million times worse. So unfortunately for them it no longer becomes a matter of winning the games anymore, now they all have to intentionally try their hardest to lose in hopes that Henry doesn't actively try to kill them tomorrow. And yeah, letting Henry Bowers beat you is painful, but i'd reckon getting your face cut off is even moreso. He sucks so much that the losers aren't even aiming to make Henry win, they just wanna all rank one spot below him so he doesn't blame them. Richie could literally stand still and Henry would still find a way to lose at basketball.

This of course leads to whole heaping of silly antics, when Henry is criticized for poor sportsman ship, Richie tries to one up him by breaking a baseball bat in half but kinda just struggles with it for a while until he gets too winded and gives up. Everyone has to just quietly shut up while Henry trash talks them, but thankfully his insults are far less nasty than usual since they're around teachers. Eddie's mom shows up, enraged to find out Eddie hid the fact they were doing track and field day from her and promptly leaves with her son, which Eddie is supremely thankful for cause it means he doesn't have to pretend like Henry's better than him anymore. Richie begs to be taken with him and when he doesn't, Stan consoles him by joking that if Henry beats them all to a pulp after this Eddie can take care of them in the hospital.

When the second round of games ends and they see the scores still haven't changed Bev just loses it and screams "How can anyone be so untalented they can't even win when seven people are cheating for them?!".

All and all... it's a very frustrating experience tbh.

[through-the-white-noise]

goodbye, my friend (goodbye, my love)

not quite sure what came over me with this one tbh. it's 1.2k of richie angst

Richie says goodbye. Eddie's voicemail doesn't respond.

[dicktozier]

this is me trying

Richie Tozier/Dan Torrance - It & Doctor Sleep Crossover

Summary: While Richie Tozier is trying to recover from everything he experienced in Derry, he meets Dan Torrance and discovers that he has a power called ‘shining’. The two of them must learn to navigate life on the other side of the traumas that they’ve experienced. The bond that they form is truly some ‘cosmic-level shit’.

From the fic:

He made eye contact with the man across the aisle. Richie remembered that his name was Dan and he had been sober for over ten years. Richie hoped that he wasn’t still coming to this joint after ten fucking years. And to someone who was ten years sober, this shit had to be a joke.

Dan had sad eyes, but they sparkled with a slight bit of mischief when he met Richie’s gaze, like maybe he could tell what Richie was thinking. Everyone has their demons . A voice that Richie almost didn’t recognize said back to him in his brain. 

Richie furrowed his brows. That was weird .

“The thing is, everyone else has no problem drinking to celebrate. Have a few glasses of wine and get loosened up.” Debbie went on.

Can you hear me? The voice said. Dan was still looking at him and his gaze was so intense that Richie had to look away. He took a deep breath, trying to focus back on the meeting. The story about the woman’s other family birthdays and holidays that had gone wrong because of her drinking.

“For me, it was three bottles … four bottles.”

Richie looked down at where his hands were clasped uneasily between his knees.

After the meeting, Richie bolted toward the door to smoke. Rolling fog was visible even in the dark of the evening. It was damp out, like it had drizzled while they were inside. The street light reflected on the dark pavement. He stood on the right side of the building, away from the rest of the smokers who gathered on the left under the big tree. Shoulders slumped as Richie focused on the bitter taste of the cigarette.

I’m fucking losing it. A drink sounds so fucking good right now. Richie thought to himself.

“Hi.”

Richie looked up. He tried not to be annoyed that Dan was approaching him and offering him a cup of stale shitty coffee in a styrofoam cup.

“Hey.” Richie said, politely taking the cup, but not making eye contact with him.

“Dan Torrance.”

“Richie Tozier.” He gave a quiet laugh. “Feels kinda stupid introducing myself since I do that every so often in front of everyone.”

“Don’t feel stupid.” Dan said.

Richie’s gaze flickered up to meet Dan’s. “You want a smoke?” Richie asked.

“No, thank you. I don’t smoke.” Dan said.

“Ten years sober and no nicotine? Jesus.” Richie said, taking a long draw from his cigarette.

Dan smiled, but shrugged. “I can’t help but notice that you sit alone during the meetings. If you ever need anyone to talk to … ”

“I’m not really looking for a sponsor.” Richie interrupted him. You’re not supposed to be attracted to your sponsor . He thought.

Dan’s brow furrowed, and he looked down at the space on the sidewalk between where they were standing. He rubbed the back of his neck and chuckled softly. “Still.”

Richie knew that he hadn’t said that second part out loud, but the way that Dan was blushing made him wonder if he had by accident. “Sorry, I uh, wasn’t trying to be rude.” Richie said carefully.

Dan cleared his throat. “No, not at all. I just meant that everyone can use a little extra help sometimes. Or a friend.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, alright?” Richie offered a smile.

Dan smiled back and nodded. “See you around, Richie.”

[cowboylikeliz]

first proper IT fic!

(its a bit sad)