#eddie hair so shiny (greasy)

[tricoufamily]

the before and after on that one

[missmagooglie]

Tagged for Fuck It Friday by @zahlibeth so I'm gonna lean into the spirit of the thing and post snippets from a few things I'm trying to motivate myself to keep working on.

First up there's my first foray into HellCheer, which can best be summed up as "I'm normally not a fan of cheating, but if Chrissy and Eddie were sneaking around behind Jason's back it'd be pretty hot, right?"

"Just don't be late for practice," Debbie says. "You know we're running the pyramid today." "I know!" Chrissy replies, already moving the other direction. "I'll just be a minute!" She hurries back down the hallway, glancing over her shoulder to make sure her friends have moved on, and then ducks quickly into the auditorium.  It's quiet and dimly lit. There's a certain strangeness to walking into an empty theater, the stage dark, each sound seeming amplified in the quiet of so large a space. Chrissy walks quickly down the side aisle and up onto the stage. Even in tennis shoes, her feet still echo dully on the wooden steps. Backstage, she navigates her way to the prop room and looks around. "Well, well, well," comes a voice right behind her shoulder, making her hop and squeak. "What could possibly bring the likes of Chrissy Cunningham, head cheerleader, all the way down to my domain?" She relaxes and smiles. "Hi, Eddie," she says sweetly. "She knows my name!" Eddie says with faux surprise as his hands slide around her waist with practiced familiarity. "Oh, I feel special. You noticed me from all the way up in your princess tower, huh?" She giggles softly at the familiar bit and leans back into him. "If I'm a princess," she says as she bares her neck to him, "does that make you my knight in shining armor?" Eddie hums in disagreement, his lips and jaw vibrating against her throat. "No, that doesn't sound like me at all. I'm no shiny hero, I'm the big, scary dragon. Stealing you away from home and hoarding you for myself."

Then I return to, ahem, Steddie ground with the touring bands AU that infected me when MCR and hard core logo crossed my dash at the same time. Robin and Steve have whatever the corollary of "stage gay" is for a lesbian and her emotional support himbo. And Eddie gets confused about it:

And then there's the bass player. Eddie can't get a good look at his face, not with the way he's bowing his head as he gives his entire focus to the four strings beneath his fingers. His head nods along to the beat, and against all odds makes his unkempt, greasy hair look unfairly attractive even as droplets of sweat visibly go flying with each shake of his head. His plain white shirt has the sleeves cut off, along with a good portion of the shirt's sides, and his jeans are tight enough to show off his ass and thighs.

He doesn't stay in any one place for long, roaming the stage aimlessly as he plays and checking in with his bandmates when he draws near. Dustin grins at him as he steps up onto the drum platform and tries to shout something over the music, Erica hip-checks him out of her space and sends him spinning away. She shakes her head like she's annoyed by the intrusion, but she watches him go with a not quite successfully suppressed smile. There's a playful fondness to the interactions, a sibling-like camaraderie.

That's not remotely what it feels like when the bassist reaches the singer. There's an intensity in how he approaches her, an almost magnetic draw. When he reaches her he doesn't check in like he did with Dustin and Erica. Instead, he presses the crown of his head between her shoulder blades until she takes a stumbling step forward. She leans back against him, letting his head support her as she continues to sing. She smiles fondly around the lyrics and reaches a hand back to scritch at the back of his head like he's a beloved pet begging for attention. His hair falls to cover most of his face, but Eddie can make out his mouth, which hangs open loosely while he breathes heavily through red lips shining with spit and sweat.

In a practiced move, she lifts her arm and he ducks under just in time for a harmony, their heads pressed close together and their mouths barely avoiding each other as they sing into the same mic. The singer keeps an arm looped around his neck, her hand pressing possessively to the top of his sternum as he slouches against her to match her height, and holds him close even as she returns to singing alone, and he melts into her without ever once stumbling in his rhythm. 

Eddie's seen stage chemistry before, but this is something else. It's like they have their own gravity centered on one another. Absurdly, Eddie feels the faintest coil of jealousy as he watches them. He beats the feeling back, because immediately developing a crush on a straight guy (who is obviously madly in love with his singer) before he's even seen his face is too much even for Eddie. And honestly, it's not really even him Eddie feels jealousy over, it's that connection. He loves his bandmates, but he's very much the leader of the group. He craves the kind of partnership these two have.

The singer pulls her bassist close and smacks a big kiss to his temple before shoving him away toward his own corner of the stage, but their eyes stay locked as he retreats and she continues to sing. They look like they're having a silent conversation, even as they continue to play and sing.

The song ends, and before the last note has faded Erica playfully whines into her own mic, "Ewwww! Robin kissed a boy!"

And I can't forget my favorite firefighting blorbos and the Practical Magic Buddie AU. Sorry, there's no actual Buddie in this snippet. Just Eddie and his abuela.

Isabel tuts and reaches for his hand. “Mijito, I have watched you grow from the day you were born. I know you better than you know yourself. And I have hated watching you hide from the world, shutting yourself off from the very things that make life worth living out of fear. I thought, when I saw you together at your wedding, that if you weren’t going to let yourself marry someone you loved I could at least help you love the person you married.” Eddie shakes his head. A renewed wave of grief lodges in his throat and stings at his eyes. “You shouldn’t have - if I never loved her, she would still be here. Christopher would still have his mother, I would still have my partner. Why would you cast that spell knowing that she would die?” Regret washes over Isabel’s features. “I never thought the curse would take her,” she tells Eddie softly, “because it wasn’t real.” Her words hit him like a sucker punch.  “But it was,” he protests, his voice cracking. “It was real for me - for us. It was messy and difficult, and we fought way too much, but,” he pauses for a moment, tears streaming down his cheeks as he tries to swallow back the tightness gripping his throat, “I really did love her, Abuelita. I loved her so much, and I just want her back.” “Oh, cariño,” Isabel says, wrapping her arms back around Eddie and pulling him close. She holds him as his shoulders shake with helpless sobs, and runs a soothing hand through his hair like she always did when he was a little boy. “You will be alright, Eddito,” she promises softly. “Somehow, we always are.”

So that's a small snapshot at how my drafts folder is looking. I'm gonna tag @onyxmoonstone @machtaholic @piratefalls and anyone who hasn't been tagged but wants to share.

[aryanightshade]

XXIV.

Restless Hours

-

Steve spends the next handful of days drifting between nightmares like a ship lost at sea. The only relief he finds are icebergs of wakefulness that leave him jerking upright, panting, vision blurry with panic as his sweat-soaked sheets tangle around his legs, leaving him confused and hazy at the jumbled way time is slouching onwards, despite everything.

Robin’s absence hurts worse than the aching wounds on his side, rawer, leaking more than blood, and he finds himself reaching for where she should be laying even though he knows that she’s safe in her own bed at home with her parents.

Steve doesn’t want to be alone. He wants Robin. He wants Max and Nancy and the rest of his friends where he can see them and know that they’re safe. He wants to rustle Dustin’s hair and call him a shithead and make sure nothing dangerous comes near him ever again.

He wants Eddie. Wants to trade places with Eddie, just a little.

His mouth is dry and tastes like something crawled into it and died. He stumbles to the bathroom and shoves his mouth under the tap, gulping down water until he feels like he’s about to burst. It doesn’t make him feel any better, and he braces his hands on the side of the sink fighting back a wave of nausea. The stitches in his shoulder ping at him spitefully, but Steve ignores them as he stares at his reflection in the mirror.

He looks… awful. Like he’s aged a thousand years in a week. Robin wasn’t joking when she said he looked terrible. He has dark hallows under his eyes from lack of real sleep, and his hair is deflated and greasy, flecked with ash and spores and dried blood.

There’s something else, too. Underneath all the physical stuff. Something in his eyes. Steve stares at his reflection, and a stranger looks back at him. One older and colder and broken beyond repair. Gently, he prods his cheek with his fingertip, scraping a little crescent moon with the tip of his nail, like he can peel back his skin and look right inside, can paw through the junk drawer of his skull to figure out what’s different now. What specific part of him has gone missing. Individually, the little bits that are him all still seem to be there. The moles dotting his cheeks and jaw, hooded hazel eyes, the little hooked scar swooping through his eyebrow, another one, flat and shiny, on his temple. So many souvenirs from their brushes with the underworld, all telling a story across his skin.

You can ask. I know you want all the sordid details.

That’s okay.

Steve swallows around the golf ball-sized lump in his throat. He can almost see it, playing out like a reel from a film projector across the back of his eyes. The soft afternoon sunlight spilling in from the trees behind Eddie, draping him gold dust and lighting up the edges of his frazzled curls like the filament in a lightbulb as he stared at Steve with those big, gentle eyes, and Steve realized that he, like most people, had Eddie Munson pegged totally wrong. That Eddie was kind and sweet and funny and doesn’t make Steve feel like shit about himself. That he’s loud and brash and flows to fill the space around him like water with all his noise and energy. That he fills the empty spaces inside of Steve, too. Fitting neatly inside him like he was meant to be there.

There are too many ghosts here, in this house, and now that he’s up and restless, not high enough to sleep and too anxious to do much else, Steve finds himself pacing the hallway between the kitchen and the base of the stairs, socked feet wearing tracks in the carpet. Outside, night begins to fall, draping the world in layers of violet shadow, and Steve realizes that he has no idea what day it is. How long has he been slipping in and out of sleep? One day? Two?

Read on A03

[ddejavvu]

Eddie munson and I would like to order the Tofu Wrap please. Eddie and reader have just graduated together and they've decided to take a road trip. They put a mattress in the back of the van and set off to see the sights. They've broken down the side of the road and mechanic!Eddie is tinkering under the hood, hair tied in a loose bun, shirt off shiny scars from the demobat attack on display. Reader can't believe how lucky they are to have someone as special as Eddie

you are formally invited to ddejavvu's 10K dinner party, now serving desserts

--

The sun beats down on the back of your neck, beading sweat along the base of your hairline. It soaks into the top you have on, the scratchy material of Eddie's metallica shirt now darkening with the stain.

"Y'know what's wrong with it?" You peer concernedly at Eddie as he leans over the van, the hood popped.

"Yep," He points vaguely at an area you're not sure the contents of, "That wire's loose."

"Right," You kick a pebble off of the road with the toe of your shoe, looking at the greasy mess of cables in the car, "You can fix it?"

"Of course I can," He grins lazily up at you, "'S just gonna take some work."

"What can I do to help?" You rock on the balls of your feet, and watch as Eddie's fingers hook under the hem of his tank top.

"Hold this," He pulls it over his head, his hair spilling out over his bare back as he hands you the shirt, "Sit there," He points to the stool he'd pulled out of the back of the van, "And look pretty."

He punctuates his orders with a cheeky grin, hands already tangling in his hair. He tugs a rubber band off of his wrist, slipping it over his curls and tucking them into a sloppy bun that jostles as he moves his head.

Splayed across his chest are scars, pale, milky reminders of mortality. You can still see blood pouring from them, hot and plentiful, from the night that you'd found Eddie laying for dead. You had nursed him back to health, your fingers had traced each and every one of those scars, rubbing salve into them, bandaging them, numbing them.

Eddie doesn't see you looking, too busy hunched over the car. But you reach out from your place on the stool, brushing a gently finger over one that stretches from his side to his back.

"Jesus!" He jolts at the contact, blinking down at your finger on his stomach, "That tickles, babe."

"Sorry," You hum, truthfully not feeling all too sorry, because the skin under your touch is warm, flushed, flowing with life, "Jus' wanted to feel you."

He's ready to berate you, tease you for being so clingy, but your words knock the scorn out of his mind. He tuts softly, greasy fingers letting go of what he's working on and reaching for you.

"Eddie, no!" You squirm away from him, "You'll get the shirt dirty!"

"'S my shirt," He soothes you, tugging you off of the stool and wrapping you in a tight hug, "I don't care."

You relax into his hold, letting your face slump into his neck and wrapping your arms around his waist. He hums contentedly into the hug and you do the same, craning your neck up to brush your nose with his.

"Love you," Your words are sticky sweet with adoration, a sound that spreads a lazy grin over Eddie's cheeks.

He leans forward to push your foreheads together, batting his eyelashes against your cheeks before getting settled, "Love you too, sweetheart."

[edspageds]

Reddie 18+ Drabble - In Red

Summary: Rachel wants to dress up nice for her partner. Sexy nice, with emphasis on the sexy bit.

Pairing: Female Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier

Warnings: notSFW, body worship, Fem!Reddie, lingerie

Word Count: 695

Edna loves wearing cute undergarments. 

Striped panties with lace and little bows, or pretty pink bras Rach sees in passing at the strip mall in the windows of those fancy boutiques. It’s something Rachel loves about her. She never knows what beautiful sight she’ll find beneath her collared shirts and hoodies. 

She envies her almost, able to fit into all these pretty things, while Rach is stuck shoving her ample cleavage into the same tanned generic nondescript bra. 

She doesn’t hate her size, or her style, Rach grew up as a frumpy twig before puberty hit, then she ballooned into a woman with pudgy love handles and shiny stretch marks. As if all of her personality couldn’t fit anymore, so it stretched her out like blowing up a real big bubble of gum. 

She just wishes she could find the pretty things in her size like her girlfriend easily can. Something fuzzy and drapey, sheer in parts to tease bits of her skin. Or tight, with intricate designs that squeezes at the meat of her stomach and gets Ed’s head spinning in lust. 

Not that Edna complains about her plain underwear! 

Usually the minute she gets her eyes on Rach’s naked form, she’s looking at her like she hung the moon and stars on the planes of her skin, and in the dots of her chicken pox scars. 

Rachel just wants those frilly girly things. Wants to browse shelves of soft satin lingerie feeling the cool fabric glide across her fingers. She wants Eds to feel that on her too, the silky texture on her breasts as she cups them in her hands, pure adoration on her face.

She wants to dress up nice for her partner. Sexy nice, with emphasis on the sexy bit. So, when she finds the perfect shop online, she can’t help herself from ordering a few things. 

Just to try!

She isn’t disappointed. 

The first time she sees herself in the mirror, in a matching set of red lace undergarments lovingly crafted, she’s blown breathless. Turning and angling herself every which way, running her hands over her skin imagining Edna’s there, her soft palms skirting about her inner thighs. 

But, she worries, maybe Edna won’t like how she looks? 

It’s a stupid worry, because Ed’s loves her even when she’s strung out with bags under her eyes, greasy hair, downing coffee like mints, trying to get her brain to spit out words on a page. 

Still, she waits, and Edna manages to find it hidden in their closet before she can tell her. Pink flush high on her cheeks as she rubs the material between her fingers, lips slightly parted. 

Before Rach can stutter out an explanation, she asks her to put it on, watching her with deep breathless wanting and zero intention to turn around.

She strips slowly, letting her clothes pool on the floor beneath her like decadent robes around her feet. Goosebumps rising on her skin in the cool air of their home. 

She should be cold, but Eds stare heats her from the inside, spreading from her belly. She steps out of her underwear, and Edna’s hands shake with the need to touch her.

Rachel’s practically breathless as she pulls the red silk panties up her pale hairy thighs. Edna’s thighs clench together tightly, shifting to put pressure on her clit while she watches.

There’s an electric power in the air, building between the two women as Rachel slips the bra straps over her shoulder, the material highlighting the softness of her breasts. She asks Edna in a near whisper for help clipping it, her breath hitching as her partner's fingers graze across her back. 

Dressed up, the two appraise each other in anticipatory silence. Edna drinks her in like a fine wine, savoring every last sip, before reaching for her with a tender kiss, molten to the touch. Desire simmers inside her, fueled by every loving caress and worshiping press of Edna’s lips, searing her affections into Rachel’s skin, burning away any residual doubt.

“Beautiful.” Edna whispers, and before the love of her life, she doesn’t feel pretty. 

She feels like a Goddess in Red.

[musical-broken-heart]

Beautiful

Stan walked into the school building. Head to breakfast and just get through the day! he thought to himself quickly walking to the cafeteria. Looking around he saw everyone running to each other after the long summer. Henry ran past him shoving him to the side.

September 1, 1989, dear diary! I believe I'm a good person ya know! I believe that there's good in everyone. But here I am first day of senior year! And I look around at these kids I've known all my life and I ask myself. What Happened?

Stan wrote down in a journal. "Freak!" someone yelled. "Slut!" on the other side of the room followed by a "Burnout!" teachers just looked around not caring. "Bugeyes!" a group of people yelled to new years. "Poser!" a girl shouted at another person. "Lardass!" The entire room screamed- all but Stan.

"We were so tiny happy and shiny! Playing tag and getting chased." Stan said walking around. "Freak!"

"Slut!"

"Loser!"

"Shortbus!"

"Singing and clapping! Laughing and napping baking cookies eating paste." Stan said trying to dodge every arm that raised to hug a friend and the bodies not watching where they were going.

"Bull-dyke!"

"Stuck up!"

"Hunchback!"

"Then we got bigger that was the trigger! like the Huns invading Rome." Stan said looking around for someone he knew only to get shoved aside by someone. "Oh sorry!" he quickly said walking away. "Welcome to my school this ain't no high school this is the Thunderdome!" he groaned seeing people glaring at him or watching him walk as though they were judging. "Hold your breath and count the days we're graduating soon!"

"White trash!"

"Collage will be paradise if I'm not dead by June!" Stan said stopping at a table and looking around. He took a breath and cleared his mind. "But I know I know. Life can be beautiful! I pray I pray I pray for a better way! If we changed back then we can change again!" he said to himself looking around trying to remember everyone as a child. "We can be beautiful!" he said running into someone. "OW!" the person said. "Just not today! Hey are you okay?" he asked trying to help the person up. "Get away nerd!" he yelled pulling away from Stan.

"Oh okay!"

"Freak!"

"Cripple!"

"Homo!"

"Homo."

"Homo!"

Stan turned the corner to get away from the chaos.

Things will get better soon as my letter comes from Harvard, Duke, or Brown! Wake from this coma take my diploma then I can blow this town! Dream of Ivory coloured walls and smokey french cafe's fight the urge to strike a match and set this dump ablaze!

Grabbing his food he started for the table but not before someone hit his tray outta his hands. "OOPS!" they said taking a step away from Stan. Sighing he made a mental note to himself. Richie Tozier 3rd year as linebacker and eighth year of smacking lunch tray and being a huge "Dick" he muttered the last part. "What did you say to me skank?!" Richie hissed grabbing Stan by his shirt. "GAh! Nothing!" Stan said quickly walking away.

"But I know I know I know life can be beautiful! I pray I pray for a better way! We were kind before we can be kind once more! We can be beautiful!" Stan said not noticing someone walking behind him. Tapping him Stan yelped and turned around. "Hey, Ben!"

"Hey"

Benjamin Hanscom! My best friend for as long as I can remember. "We on for movie night?" he asked. Stan nodded. "yea! You're on jiffy pop detail!" he reminded. "I rented A New Hope!" Ben said excitedly. "Again? You have that thing memorized by now." Stan joked. "What can I say I'm a sucker for the Jedi way." Ben laughed with his friend. "Ben Haystack wide load!" someone yelled hitting his tray from his hands. Eddie Kaspbrak quarterback he is the smartest guy on the football team... Which is kinda like being the tallest dwarf.

"Pick that up! Right now!" Stan yelled. Eddie looked over his shoulder and smirked. "I'm sorry are you actually talking to me?" he asked leaning closer to Stan who stood firm. "yes I am what makes you think you have the right to pick on my friend? You're a high school has been waiting to happen! A future gas station attention." Stan sassed. Eddie glared at him. "You have a zit right there!" he said getting a laugh from Richie.

"Dear diary why?!"  

"Why do they hate me?"

"Why don't I fight back"

"Why do I act like such a creep?!"

"Why won't he date me?!" (Stan: Why?!)

"Why did I hit him"

"Why do I cry myself to sleep?" (Stan: Why?!)

"Somebody hug me"

"Somebody fix me"

"Somebody save me!"

"Send me a sign God!"

"Give me some hope here!"

"Something to live for!"

As Stan sat down three people walked in and everyone stopped to look at them.

Then there's the Bower Gang They float above it all.

"I love Henry, Victor, and Patrick!"

Victor Criss football leader his mother is loaded. She sells engagement rings

"I hate Henry, Victor, and Patrick!"

Patrick Hockstetter. Runs the weight training. No discernible personality but his dad did pay for steroids.

"I need Henry, Victor and Patrick!"  

Then there's Henry Bowers the almighty.

"I want Henry, Victor, and Patrick!"

he is a mythic dick! They are like solid Teflon- never bothered, never harassed. I would give anything to be like that.  

The bell rang and everyone scattered. The Bowers were in the bathroom and Stan followed them. Victor was vomiting in one of the stalls. "Grow up Victor! Bulmaira is so '87!" Henry yelled fixing his hair. "Maybe you should see a doctor Victor!" Patrick suggested as Victor walked out of the stall. "Yea Patrick maybe I should," he said weakly. Mr Smith walked in as they were talking and Victor ran back into the throwing his head over the toilet. "Ah Henry and Patrick," he said as Victor once again threw up. "And Victor. Perhaps you didn't hear the bell over all the vomiting but you're late for class," he said no emotion in his voice. "Victor wasn't feeling well. We're helping him!" Henry scoffed.

Stan was thinking fast and pulled out a pen and paper quickly wrote something down. "Not without a hall pass you're not! Weeks detention!" the teacher scolded. Stan stepped forward and handed the paper to him. "Actually Mr Smith all four of us are out on a hall pass. Training committee." Stan said as the teacher took the note and looked it over. "I see you're all listed. Hurry up and get where you're going!" he shouted leaving the bathroom. Henry looked at the note and smirked.

"This is an excellent forgery. Who are you?!" he asked. "Um, I'm Stanley Uris! I crave a boon." Stan said quickly fear taking over him. "What boon?!" Henry asked walking towards him. "Let me sit at your table for lunch. Just once! No talking necessary! If people think that you tolerate me then they'll leave me alone!" Stan said. The three boys looked at each other and scoffed. "And before you say anything I also do report cards, permission slips, and absence notes," Stan added.

"What about prescriptions?" Victor asked. "Shut up Victor!" Henry yelled. "Sorry Henry," he said quickly and quietly. "For a greasy little nobody, you do have good bone structure," Henry said walking around Stan inspecting him. "And a symmetrical face! if I took a meat cleaver down the centre of your face I'd have matching halves. That's very important." Patrick said causing Stan to become more scared. "of course you could stand to gain a few muscles." Victor said now looking better than before.

"And you know, you know, you know? This could be beautiful. Shaving, maybe some hair gel! And we're on our way. Get this guy some weights and Victor I need some tape. Let's make him beautiful!" Henry smiled as the other two nodded and went to their bags grabbing the stuff Henry said. "Okay?" he asked causing Stan to snap back in reality. "Okay!" he agreed.

"Out of my geek!" Eddie yelled pushing someone aside. "I don't want trouble!" the boy said. Richie walked behind him grabbing his shirt. "You're gonna die at 3 pm!"

"Don't you dare touch me!"

"Get away pervert!"

"What did I ever do to them?!"

"Who can survive this?"

"I can't escape this!"

"I think I'm dying!"

"Who's that with Henry?!" Someone yelled causing everyone to look. "Henry, Victor, Patrick! And someone! Henry, Victor, Patrick, and a jock! Henry, Victor, Patrick-" Ben rushed forward gasping at his friend. "Stanley?!" he yelled. "Stanley? Stanley. Stanley!"

Stan rushed forward a huge grin plastered on his face. "And you know! You know! You know Life can be beautiful! You hope you dream you pray and you get your way! Ask me how it feels looking like hell on wheels! My god, it's beautiful! I might be beautiful! And when you're beautiful! It's a beautiful fricken day!" He yelled as Henry wrapped an arm around his new creation proud of what he did.

"Stan?" Ben asked looking shook. "Ben oh this will be so great for us no more being bothered!" tan laughed with Ben. "Well just remember to talk to me." he joked. "Of course. Still on for movie night?" Stan asked. Ben nodded and walked away.

[kzspbrak]

EXPERIMENTS - Chapter 7 - Just Breath

READ FULL CHAPTER ON AO3

Richie didn't listen to Bill and bring a spare shirt or hoodie to change into, and he didn't grab a towel either. He had no intention on showering- he refused to. Not today. He'd end up freaking out and panicking, and that was only if he managed to actually get in the shower- then he'd just look weak or weird or just generally pathetic. The bathroom was nice enough; it had a toilet, sink and bath like most bathrooms, the floor was covered in gray tiles and the wall was white. It was cleaner than the toilets at the lab, but Richie felt just as uncomfortable standing inside it. He knew he couldn't shower- but he had to somehow convince everyone he did. The mirror above the sink reflected Richie back to himself, and he looked like a complete mess. He hadn't been able to look at himself really since they ran away, and even before that he was never given a proper opportunity to really look at himself. He was a mess though, his hair very clearly greasy and his nose and forehead shiny from oils. He also had various spots and pimples scattered across his face, which was to be expected really, considering he was a sixteen-year-old boy.

He turned to look at the bath, the curtain was still pulled back from where Bill just got out, and the wall and bottom of the bath were still wet. If Richie just turned the shower on for a while maybe he could convince the group then he washed, that could work- as long as they didn't question his still greasy hair and shiny face. He'd be fine, he would just have to worry about that when he got to it. Making his way over to the shower, Richie suddenly felt more nervous- he had been the whole time, but now he really didn't want to go anywhere near the shower or be in the bathroom, memory after memory forcing it's way into his head. He reached towards the tap anyways though, hand now shaking as he gulped slightly. This was all so pointless, Eddie was fine to shower and water physically hurt the smaller boy, yet here Richie was- close to a panic attack over turning the shower on. Richie sharply turned the handle, and flinched back and some of the water sprayed over his forearm and hand. The sound of the water drilling into the bottom of the bath only brought back more memories and more fear to Richie, and his whole body began to shake more as his breath became more heavy- tears threatening to spill down his face, "P-Please," Richie shakily whispered to himself, "d-don't-"