#just imagine richie needed an accountant and stanley’s his accountant and Richie’s like fuck he’s hot

[in-my-clown-era]

wait...so richie tozier has his voice named “kinky briefcase” who’s a sexual accountant...mayhaps he needed some accounting work and met a sexy accountant who may or may not have been named stanley uris??? he just changed the way the voice sounded but thinks of the sexy accountant (cough cough, STAN cough) for inspiration 👀👀👀

[losersweregoingclownhunting]

New IT AU

So I can’t stop thinking about if in the future they decide to remake IT again (and let’s face it, it feels like the only thing that happens with movies is remakes it’s entirely possible. If we can have 6 millions spider-man movies, we can have more IT).

But what if 1) it was mainly female losers because that’s really the story we deserve 2) its updated/changed so like the reason they’re “losers” and ostracized by their classmates makes more sense for when it would be set (like imagine the beginning being set around this time). 

Richie (Rachel/Rach): I mean, we all know a loud mouth kid that makes inappropriate comments like Richie. But it’s always a guy. When girls make comments like that they’re judge way harsher and told to be more ladylike. Plus, ADHD is often missed in young girls so I’d love to see a female character with ADHD. Plus a relationship between female Richie and female Eddie deserves to be told at some point. Also female Richie would 100% say suck my dick all the time while making vine references even though she never had a vine account.

Bev (Brently/Brent): What if Bev was a trans man? Bev’s dad being a transphobic dick making comments about ‘his little girl’. 

Bill (Isabela/Izzy/Iz): Bill being a first generation kid who maybe didn't know all lot of English when she started school. Instead of a stutter, she struggles with the language barrier. And even though she learns English quick enough she’s still bullied/harrassed because of the political climate.

Stan (Samara/Sam): (edited based on ask) Literally just Stan as a woman, because @bichie‘s right, we need Jewish leads! And I feel like we need more woman Jewish characters, but that may just be me. 

Mike (Mishael): (added based on ask) Islamic Mike. Give us more main characters who wear hijabs tbh. 

Ben (Bethany/Beth): (added later) was overweight throughout high school and bullying lead to an eating disorder in college She overcame (there may be better word, but I can’t remember it right now) her disorder only for feelings to resurface when she returns to Derry. 

I don’t know about the other three because I just thought of this today. I just love the idea of an alternate story because we’ve heard the original story told three different times now. So making changes/updates to the characters would be so interesting. 

I would also love if it were a televison series that allowed them to go more in depth about their traits and why Pennywise manifested the way he did or said the things he did based on their characterization.

But also since they were older in the newest movies what if they were like 16 in this one so there was content of them being kids but then we get to see the losers as friends in high school. And instead of Silver, Bill drives a shitty old car they all call rusty.

I don’t know, I could come up with a million different stories based on this, what do you y’all think?

“Fuck, I think I’m having a heart attack,” Rachel (Richie) gasped.

“Quit being so melodramatic, you're not having a heart attack,” Ellie (Eddie) scoffed.

“Oh I’m sorry, I didnt realize you were the world’s leading Cardiologist.”

“OH. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were the world’s leading Cardiologist,” Ellie repeated sarcastically.

“Suck my dick, El.” 

“Weird that’s exactly what your dad said to me last night.” 

Samara (Stanley) rolled her eyes, walking away from the two while Mishael (Mike) spoke. “Ladies, you’re both pretty.” 

-

Rachel stretched her legs out on the dash of Isabel’s (Bill) car. She’d hit her growth spurt early and no one really caught up. Five years later and she was still a gangly mess. 

“Iz, your car is a piece of shit.” 

“At least I have a car, Rach.” 

“Well I’m gay, so jot that down.” 

“Yeah, and you turned left on a red light during your test.”

“The guy said to turn, Izzy. Was I not supposed to?” Isabel gave Rachel an exasperated look. “Fine, where did you get a gun? Do you even know how to shoot a gun?”

“It’s my dad’s, yes I can shoot it, and before you ask I brought it because I am not going into that creepy ass house with a demon chasing us if I don’t have a gun.” 

-

Beth (Ben) was fiddling with her phone. The headphones were cutting out, but she was just trying to make it home. The last day of the school year and she escape the bullies for the summer. She turned the corner, running into Brent Marsh. 

“Woah, watch where you’re going new kid,” he laughed. Beth blushed, looking away. “What are you listening to?” Beth didn’t answer and Brent looked at her phone. “One direction. They broke up right?” Beth nodded. “Well, it’s the End of the Day new kid. You might want to head home.” 

Brent turned to walk away and Beth struggled to think of something clever. “I want to know Everything About You!” She called, but Brent didn’t hear. “That’s another One Direction song.” 

- Okay, now I kind of want to rewrite IT…

[randoms-world]

Lovers (bill Denbroug x oc x Stanley Uris)

"Swear that if it isn't dead, if it ever comes back we'll come back too" bill says looking at the ground, I stood up along with stan "I swear to it bill" I say and we all made a blood oath by bill cutting our right hands with a cola bottle shard. We held hands and all said at the same time "we swear to it" then one by one everyone left till it was just me, bill and stan "hey um guys?" I asked catching their attention "what is it?" Stan asked "promise me I'll never lose you too, I know people don't accept that we're together as a 3 but your both the most important people to me" I say. They both softly smiled "we promise you will always have us by your side" bill say as they both kissed my cheek, little did any of us know that would be the last time we'd see each other in 27 years

*27 years later*

I shot up in bed as I had another nightmare about what I saw in the deadlights, i don't understand who those people are or why I care about them so much. I hear my phone vibrate so I pick it up "hello?" I said in a tried voice "Jaymi justice?" A man's voice said "um yea who's this?" I asked both confused and worried. "Its mike, mike Hanlon from Derry" he said then a few memories came foodling back of a boy from my youth "omg mike hi, it's been so long.....wait has it come back?" I asked. There was an uncomfortable silence "yea it has, so far your the only one to really remember it" he says "when do you need me there?" I asked suddenly remembering the oath as I looked at the scar on my hand "tomorrow" he says and after I agree I hung up and packed my bag from a few days.

*at the jade of the orient*

I waited outside the doors hands shaking with nerves to see these people I don't really remember "Jaymi?" A woman's voice says so I turn to see who it was. I somehow recognised that red hair "omg Beverley its really you" I say and we hug each other "it's been too long" she says as we pull away "is there a password or something?" A man asked us. We both just look at him confused "new kid?" He says again "ben?" Bev says and he happily smiled "yea its me" he says and we group hug "it's been so long" he says happily then another voice courses us to pull apart "wow you all look amazing, what the fuck happened to me?" He asked "trash mouth?" I said and he smiled then hugged each of us. Bev then noticed the necklace around my neck "you kept that?" She says "yea, can't really remember who gave it to me but it has the names bill and stan engraved on the back of it" I say as we walked into the restaurant. As we got to the privet part mike booked for us I saw two people that course a lump in my throat to from "wow you guys made it" mike says as we all hugged each other. As I get to last two it like a light switch went off in my head "bill, stan?" I said and they both happily nodded but I then remembered that they broke their promise to me so I just ignored them and sat inbetween richie ans Eddie. I think that upset them a little but they just toke their seats ans we all laughed and caught up with what each other have been up to all these years, Beverley had become a fashion designer, ben is a architect, richie was a comedian, Eddie is a risk analyst, Stanley was and accountant and bill was an author. I happily told them about my career as a musician "oh yea my friend at work got your album" eddie says and I smiled at those words and later the lady brought us the fortune cookies. I opened mine and what I read made me sick to my stomach and run out into a near by alley to just throw up

*meanwhile*

Bill and stan were broken hearted as the girl the still had feelings for ignored them, they couldn't really blame her tho as they broke their promise to her. As Stanley went to go after her he noticed the rest of the losers fortune cookies said a message so they laid they out and once they got them in the right order their eyes widened with horror

'Hurry or she floats along with Georgie'

The group all ran out and called out for their friend but got no reply, as bill and stan started to tear up they heard a scream, They sprinted towards the sound.

*with Jaymi*

I whipped the bit of vomit from my chin "oh go this sucks" I said as I reread my fortune 'they will all die and it will be your fault' it was horrific. As I went to walk I saw the one face I never wanted to see again "miss me" the fucking clown say and he went for me making me scream ans curl into a ball. I was waiting for the pain of my death but felt nothing "Jaymi!" I hear stan yell but I was to shaken up to move, I just looked at the floor as the other losers ran over to me "what happened?" Bill asked. I looked up to see worry on both bill and stan's faces "I I I saw that fucking clown" is all I can manage to say before bursting into tears. I felt stan carefully pick me up "we gotta get her back to the hotel" bill says ans the group safely got me back to the hotel and into my room, stan gently lays me down as I looked up at him "get some rest sweet, it'll be okay" he says and I tried to sleep before letting my thoughts slip out "I missed you guys" I whispered as I fell completely asleep.

*With stan and bill*

The two men watched the girl fall asleep, they heard her whisper something but couldn't make out what it said. They both softly kissed her head they left the room to let her rest in peace and talk to the rest of the losers about a plan to defeat pennywise once and for all.

(A/n-wow first imagine over, I apologised if it sucks but it was my first time writing something like this, if you think I should make a part two let me know please and I'm also posting this over on wattpad)

[reddielibrary]

The Better to See You With, My Dear

prompt: richie gets contacts and eddie is feeling ????? about it

written by: Alexis | quixoticquest

word count: 3960

*click title to read on AO3

Thirteen months, from kindergarten to first grade, marked the span of time Eddie Kaspbrak had known a Richie Tozier with perfect vision - and he didn’t remember a lick of it. Not the bare-faced expressions around the storytime mat, not the way dark brown eyes appeared without bugging behind enormous lenses. Not when Richie started squinting at the chalkboard in the October of first grade, not when he tripped and broke his nose on Halloween because he couldn’t see to begin with and certainly not out the tiny holes of his ghost sheet. Eddie remembered first grade when Richie got his glasses though, and even though he remembered in kindergarten too. Sometimes he found himself arguing with Bill or Stanley about the actuality of events, and even Richie’s own input wasn’t always enough to settle the stubborn hypochondriac.

Richie’s Glasses was just one of those things that had Always Been or felt like it had anyway. The chances of catching a glimpse of him with them off, out of the pool or at a sleepover, were so fleeting that Glasses just became the default. Growing up, the only thing Eddie could count on to never change was his friends, their quirks, familiar and comforting.

So you could imagine his concern when Richie announced his parents had finally caved and were taking him to get fitted for contact lenses.

Trashmouth Tozier had been begging to trade in his specs for years. The Losers Club had been on the receiving end of his whining for just as long, constantly groaning about how much of a drag it was to push them up his nose and clean them and keep them from getting broken (which he wasn’t very good at). But with his own hygiene regimen spotty at best, especially during the pubescent years, Mr. and Mrs. Tozier weren’t super keen to get Richie something that would require constant upkeep like that.

It wasn’t until Richie turned sixteen that all his whining paid off - and by then, Eddie thought he’d be stuck in glasses forever.

A Friday afternoon marked the end of what had Always Been. Richie left class early for his appointment at the eye doctor, rubbing his hand through Eddie’s hair on his way past his desk, pointing dramatically with both hands at the trademark frames across his face, before disappearing out the door with two thumbs up. It probably wasn’t the last Eddie would ever see of Richie with his glasses on, but it might as well have been.

That idiot refused to hang out with any of them the following weekend, drawing out the days and hours until Monday like some kind of sadist. The worst part was that he had homeroom with Beverly and Bill. Eddie wouldn’t even see Richie until fourth period.

“Mike said Ben said Bev said it was really weird,” Stan reported to Eddie during second period gym, and left it at that since there were balls to hit and bases to run.

The worst part was fourth period was Spanish, and Eddie had gone above his academic expectations for once and taken the Honors class, where they weren’t allowed to speak English, even to ask to use the bathroom. If he had known Richie was going to throw this curveball at him last year when he registered for classes, he would have stayed in Advanced and fucked Honors courses altogether.

There was no time to prepare - only to school himself when Richie came through the door, a couple of seconds before the bell, and descended into the seat beside Eddie as if nothing had happened. Really, technically, nothing had happened - but try telling that to the wound up dork gnawing the end of his pencil like a Twizzler.

Beverly was right, it was super weird. Richie’s glasses made his eyes huge, all big and shiny, and now they almost looked too small for his face. Eddie could see his eyebrows better, which made him even more expressive if that was even possible. It was easier to see his cheekbones too, though nothing could be done about all the miles of face hiding under his mophead until he bit the bullet and got a proper haircut.

“¿No me veo hermosa?” Richie asked, cheesing with all his teeth, bare eyes wide.

“Cállate,” Eddie griped, fixing his gaze on the chalkboard at the front of the room before he could be caught staring.

A couple days went by, and besides the occasional remark from their friends (and Richie’s constant boasting), nothing really changed. Or rather, a lot had changed, but Eddie seemed to be the only one who noticed. Was one day really all they were going to devote to this? Richie’s entire appearance had been reshaped with the exclusion of one single accessory! The entire fabric of who he was as a person had been altered forever.

Of course, Eddie couldn’t say that out loud because he knew it was ridiculous. Which might have been the worst part.

A week or so after the initial reveal, they had all gathered at Bill’s house to brainstorm for the college applications that would be due to submit as soon as the end of this summer. Eddie had been staring at the same blank page in his composition book for the last hour, scratching aimless doodles into the margin that probably wouldn’t have any bearing on the schools he was looking at (rather, the ones his guidance counselor was telling him to look at).

“Do you think I need to put varsity football and JV?” Mike asked, brows furrowed at his extensive list of extracurriculars. “Or is varsity big enough that JV is a given?”

“Here’s what I think: ditch them both,” Richie announced, pointing the end of his pen at Mike. “Better yet, dump the resume and essay altogether. Just submit a headshot and you’ll have all those schools begging for you to commit.”

Mike beamed. Beside him, Stanley leaned forward to tuck his chin onto his fist - fretting over a list even longer than Mike’s. Eddie was still trying to decide if the one day of mock trial he attended sophomore year counted as anything.

“Don’t tell me that’s what you’re doing,” Stan drawled at Richie - who sighed, his too-small eyes fluttering shut so he could tilt his head back.

“I could, but it wouldn’t be fair. It’s a shame, but this mug outshines all the volunteer work in the world. ‘Specially with all my handsome out on display for everyone to see now. Isn’t that right, Eds?”

Eddie clamped his tongue between his teeth and grunted, a paltry shadow of his usually feisty retorts. They were becoming harder and harder to dish out since they usually thrived on eye contact, which was becoming harder and harder to maintain with Richie looking like that.

They went on scribbling away, some more than others. At some point, while Bill was on the phone ordering pizza, Richie stood, hiking his legs overhead and limb alike to make it to the bathroom, backpack clutched in one hand - not that Eddie really took notice, since the seven of them had been getting up for various reasons all night.

He did notice, however, when Richie came back wearing his glasses.

“Well look who it is,” Beverly chuckled (because no one could ever let anything go unnoticed among the seven of them). “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Yeah yeah yeah, laugh all you want,” Richie retorted, arms rising over his head in some gesture of surrender, even as he smiled from under those familiar frames. “I can’t afflict you with my drop dead unfiltered gorgeousness all the time. It would be irresponsible.”

“But your obnoxious personality is totally fine, right?” Eddie snorted - unaware of just how easily it came out when that tortoise shell barrier was there.

Richie grinned his Richie grin. “Truth is, if you must know, my eyes were starting to hurt. Figured I’d switch so I didn’t have to turn in early. Now, let’s see if I remember how to work these things.”

If this was the return to form Eddie had been craving, maybe that meant he should savor it. There was no doubt he would see Richie in his glasses several times before the year was even out, though few and far between they may be.

This, he decided, glancing sidelong at the mophead trashmouth jackass beside him, was his opportunity to kiss goodbye that thing that had Always Been, and rev up for something new. Suck it up, take it like a champ. Like an adult, and not a baby who cried over object permanence.

But the next day at school, Eddie didn’t get a chance to put his rev-up to the test, because Richie came in with his specs on.

“I was running late,” he explained, launching into a long account of a hectic morning at lunchtime, that Eddie couldn’t even be bothered to pretend to care about.

Maybe he was late the next day too because once more he showed up bespectacled. No one really cared to ask, and he didn’t care to explain. But as the days crept on into weeks, into a month, the contacts seemed to have disappeared altogether.

Chief of all who didn’t care about this particular regression was Eddie - so much so that he didn’t even realize he didn’t care. He probably didn’t notice there was a difference at all. After all, what was so weird about Richie wearing glasses?

With finals coming up and Spanish kicking his ass, circumstances called for a study session. Eddie almost managed to intercept Richie at the front door and bustle him up to his room, but his mom’s Sonia Sense must have started tingling because she found them just in time to make it very clear that there would be no Toziers in her house after nine o’clock.

“I brought the new X-Men,” Richie proclaimed in a stage whisper when they reached Eddie’s room, wiggling a glossy issue in a plastic sleeve at Eddie.

“You’re here to study Spanish,” Eddie said at a completely normal volume. “Not Rogue’s boobs.”

Richie blew a raspberry. “She’s not even in this one, doofus. And last I checked, you’re pushing a B minus, and I’m on the star students poster.”

“Then stop speaking English and help me!”

Usually, study sessions devolved into aimless chaos pretty quickly, but they did a pretty good job of keeping on track this time, and Eddie did a pretty good job of keeping Richie and his constant asinine distractions at bay. It didn’t matter that the four-eyed idiot kept snickering at his color-coded flashcards either.

“I can’t remember the word for broom,” Eddie murmured at some point, pushing his top lip around with the eraser on his pencil.

“My mom said I better start wearing my contacts again or she’s not gonna pay for them,” Richie sighed.

Eddie looked up from his seat on the floor, arms folded around his flashcards on the edge of his bed. Richie, flopped across the mattress, flipped absently through his notebook full of chicken scratch. The bend of his head and the frames of his glasses concealed his expression ever so slightly.

“Huh?” Eddie asked dumbly.

Richie glanced over and pushed his specs up by the pad of his thumb. “La escoba,” he pronounced.

“You haven’t been wearing your contacts?” Eddie specified.

“Oh, I have,” Richie replied, nodding confidently. “I wear them with my glasses. That’s double the corrected vision. I can see into the fifth dimension.”

Eddie mimicked him in an unintelligible tone.

“Richie, why aren’t you wearing your contacts?” The question made him feel entirely too much like a parent. Hell, maybe that’s exactly what Mrs. Tozier had asked, hands on her hips and all.

Twisting his mouth every which way, Richie adjusted himself, pushing his notebook to the side, since he obviously wasn’t using it for anything practical. The yellow lamplight illuminating Eddie’s room sent the oblongs of white on the lenses of Richie’s Glasses around the frames as he moved.

Suddenly Eddie remembered the tangible possibility of Richie’s Glasses disappearing again. It wasn’t a very fun thought to remember.

“I dunno,” Richie finally confessed, setting his face in his hands, and his elbows on his knees. “It’s just - I mean I guess it’s just not how I thought they were gonna be.”

“Are they uncomfortable?” Eddie asked.

“Only for the first couple days.”

“Is it a lot to keep them clean?”

“No, you just hit ‘em with the contact solution. If I can’t aim and squirt then what kind of man would I be, Eds?”

Eddie huffed and rolled his eyes. He should have known better than to indulge I dunno and all the potentials for humor that might follow.

Situating himself squarely in front of his notes, though, it only took a couple seconds for Richie to roll himself back into Eddie’s line of sight - effectively demanding his attention again.

“I guess I just,” Richie mumbled, poking around one of the flashcards - armario-closet, to be precise. “I dunno. Thought I’d look better without glasses.”

Kneeling on the floor, with Richie laid out in front of him, put them basically at eye level. From here, though, Richie had to lift his gaze ever so slightly. Eddie watched his brows arch from behind his specs, dark eyes blinking. An unfiltered view - sort of.

“Look better?” Eddie repeated.

“Well, when you get called four-eyes your whole life…” Richie huffed, and rolled back again, always restless. “I just thought it’d be different y’know? I’ve got such a lousy prescription and I thought I’d finally look like less of a dumbass nerd with contacts but...maybe I’m overthinking it but it just doesn’t seem like you guys like me when I don’t wear my glasses.”

Eddie’s face screwed up. “What?”

Richie shrugged. “Maybe I talked it up too much but I was kind of hoping you’d make a bigger deal. No one really said anything or talked about it so I was like, oh shit, maybe I am hideous. Or maybe the glasses are just the perfect accessory to my comedy and I’ve ruined the whole schtick by dropping them. Or, you know, I’m hideous. Either or.”

“It’s not a big deal because you’re just you, Richie,” Eddie stated (completely unaware of what a hypocrite he was being). “So what if we didn’t say anything? We can’t go on and on about your face for the rest of our stupid lives.”

“Yeah, but…” Now, Richie sighed again, perhaps becoming too self-aware of how serious he had made the moment. “Eddie, it kind of felt like you couldn’t even talk or look at me when I wasn’t wearing my glasses.”

This was the part where Eddie felt like the biggest ass in the whole world. He might as well have turned into a donkey, like in Looney Tunes.

“Which could totally be just me,” Richie went on, smacking himself upside the head. “But that’s just what it felt like. So maybe it’s just me. I’m perfectly happy to be the idiot on this one. I’m usually very good at it.”

There was no way he could focus on Spanish now. Eddie collected all his flashcards and placed them in a neat little stack on the floor, so he could push himself up to sit on his own bed.

It was a crisis about fucking glasses. It didn’t need to get that deep. And yet, somehow, he felt like he owed Trashmouth Tozier somewhat of an apology - if you could fucking believe it.

“It’s not just the contacts,” Eddie confessed, tipping his head down.

“Aha, I was right,” Richie declared in a lackluster tone.

“It’s everything,” Eddie blurted right on his heels, sagging with a deep breath. “Everything is changing, Rich. And everything that changes just reminds me that all the stuff that’s Always Been is gonna be over next year when we graduate. Braces are coming off and bikes are getting sold and we’re all starting college applications that we’re not even going to submit for six months!”

He dropped his hands in his lap, slapping against his thighs, a crisp punctuation to his rant. Out of breath, Eddie puffed through his nose. Of course, now the room had to be dead silent, clawing and prodding at him with the reminder that this was way too honest for a study session.

Richie stared at him though, peculiarly thoughtful. At the very least, he wasn’t looking so much like a kicked, bespectacled puppy anymore.

“Well,” he finally said, steepling his hands between them, “this may come as a surprise to you, Eds, but I’ve always had eyes.”

“Oh shut up,” Eddie snapped (almost relieved for the lighthearted response). “You’ve always had glasses. And now you won’t, because you’re finally old enough to have contacts, and soon you’ll be old enough to move out and get out of dodge like we’re all gonna do.”

“Yeah, but isn’t that what we want?” Richie asked.

“I guess. It just feels like I liked thinking about it better as something far away then something we’re all flying toward at top speed.”

Childhood sucked. Any of the seven of them could tell you that. So why did the thought of it truly ending ache so much? Were the losers worth more than leaving Derry? Apparently fucking not, since they were all perfectly content to make their attempts to escape.

Just as Eddie was feeling sorry for himself, staring at the patterns in his quilt, Richie did something quite uncharacteristic. Just out of his line of sight, the trashmouth put his hand over the top of Eddie’s, curling them together in some gesture of support.

It was pretty awkward, but comforting in a weird, forced kind of way.

“I’m still me,” Richie said, offering his solid gaze when Eddie looked up. “Fuck you know I’m an idiot with the glasses on and off. That’s never gonna change. Hell, you can even call me four eyes of you want. The other two could be - hm - my nipples maybe? I’ve got that one eyed snake in my pants but that only makes three.”

“Richie-”

“The point is, Edward,” he continued, somehow lofty and sincere at the same time, “not everything is changing. Maybe we don’t get to sitcom it up at some university all seven of us. But we still have each other, as mushy gushy as that sounds. I’ll always be a phone call away. You called me to make me cart my ass over here. And I know the others feel the same way.”

What do you know? For all the stupid crap that came out of his mouth, Richie said something intelligent (and comforting) for once.

Before the telltale sting in his eyes could gain any traction, Eddie sighed his cares away or at least tried to. A motivational speech couldn’t fix everything. But just Richie saying it, Richie of all people, was enough to set him at ease. At least for now. And to think it hadn’t even been about Eddie in the first place.

“I know,” he answered, finally, soundly. If that wasn’t the only thing he was sure of, then he wasn’t sure of anything.

“I’m sorry I made you think I think you’re ugly,” Eddie added, deciding he wasn’t a huge fan of how he phrased that. “You’re not, I promise.”

Richie blinked at him expectantly. His hand still sat clammy and warm on top of Eddie’s.

“Well, if I’m not ugly, then what am I, Eds?”

“Oh, don’t you start,” Eddie ground out, pulling himself away.

“No no, this is important to me.” Richie sniffled dramatically, wiping away nonexistent tears from under his glasses, advancing incrementally. “You really hurt me, y’know? I’m broken-hearted. I might never heal.”

“Sure you won’t.”

“Come on, Eds!” At this point, Richie was practically bent over Eddie, and if he didn’t want to slide off the bed, he had to prop himself up on his hands, with nowhere else to go. “If I’m not an uggo then I must be something else won’t you please tell me what it is? Boost a poor boy’s self-esteem.”

“As if you need a self-esteem boost!”

“Pretty please, Eds? I’m dying here. The anticipation is killing me.”

“You’re okay looking I guess!” Maybe it was important that Eddie say it or maybe it wasn’t but he figured it was the least he could do (even if it warmed his face in the process). “You got a strong jaw and nice lips and sometimes I hear girls talking about your cheekbones and I guess I sort of agree with them!”

Maybe, Eddie realized retrospectively, he had revealed too much. Mostly because, Richie was staring at him from behind those big lenses - just a little too tenderly to be joking.

“Whoa,” he muttered. “That’s like, the nicest thing anyone has ever said about me. Besides my mom.”

Eddie blinked, feeling the heat spread further into his face. “Well I didn’t mean-”

Somehow managing not to send Eddie careening off the bed, Richie pressed forward enough to catch his lips in an entirely unexpected kiss. What Eddie lacked in mobility at the moment, he made up for in reaction time and found it in him to tip his chin up into Richie’s mouth without suffering all the shock and surprise that might have him freezing unhelpfully.

Richie got his arms around him and figured out how to pull him back onto the bed, which enabled Eddie to get a grip of his own, clinging to Richie’s shirt for all he was worth while their lips shifted and bumped together. Such a natural progression, it was a wonder it hadn’t occurred until just this moment.

Before they could get too carried away (which Eddie wasn’t super opposed to), Richie broke, huffing for air, as if he had been submerged in water. Rather than dwell on what kind of idiot couldn’t pace his own breathing (because he wasn’t one to talk about respiratory issues), Eddie stared up at Richie’s face, from the cradle of his arms, Klimt style.

To think Mrs. Kaspbrak was just downstairs tuning in to Dateline.

Without thinking very much about it, Eddie got one hand free to reach up to Richie’s face and pulled his glasses off carefully. That bare gaze followed his hand all the way to the side, as he folded up the arms and put them somewhere where they wouldn’t get in the way.

Richie’s eyes weren’t too small. They were probably perfectly normal sized, almost droopy in a way that was too endearing for his own good. And of course, there were those pink lips, and those cheekbones (which Eddie may or may not have come up with all on his own, no girls required).

“Well that’s just counterproductive,” Richie stated, quirking a smile in Eddie’s direction.

“How come?”

“What’s the point of no glasses if I can’t see you? Need those corrective lenses to ogle that booty, baby.”

Before Eddie could snap at him, he was kissed again, sweet and sound, and he couldn’t argue with that.

Maybe it was okay if some things that had Always Been changed. Eddie, for one, was certainly glad that he didn’t have a laundry list of medication to take any more. Things like Bill getting over his stutter and Stanley getting less anxious were good. Kissing Richie regularly was certainly a welcome change. And Eddie could learn to love a Richie with contacts, even if it was different from what had Always Been.

Just so long as Richie blinked his lenses in on the first try because watching the little disk flop out between his eyelashes was the fastest way to make Eddie gag.

[neoncakey]

Beverly Marsh || Clown Makeup

Okay so I posted this on on my Wattpad account which is Radsavagee. So this is a halloween one.

I would like to mention that I don't know Richie's sexuality so I just said bisexual. I haven't read the book so if anyone would like to tell me so I can put it in future imagines.

This is an au? That's what it's called right? So basically the whole pennywise thing never happened and it's in the 2000's. So I hope you enjoy this. 

Also tell me if I have any grammar errors as I do not look at my writing to check them oof.

-

I heard a knock on the door and I knew who it was. I was going to do both of our makeup. And I guess out of the two of us I was kind of more girly. We were both a bit of tomboy and girly but I was more on the girly side while she was more on the tomboy side. 

I raced down the stairs and I nearly slammed into a wall on the way. I was nervous, butterflies were in my stomach. But I pushed those away because I didn't know her sexuality and I was just assuming she was into guys since she dated Bill. And I hear her state she was straight so I knew I had little to zero chance to date her.

Plus she's my best friend along with Richie. I was more closer to Richie though since I was friends with him since we were little kids and I had known Beverly since high school when Bill started crushing on Beverly. And she was then in the group and quickly her and I become best friends. 

Bill and Beverly dated for about a year and a bit and broke up at the start of this year. They had both move on or at least Bill and he recently got a girlfriend. Beverly no longer was sad about the break up and had gotten over it so at a point they had both move on. We had also meet Bill's girlfriend a few times and we all like her including Beverly. The two got on pretty well and it was really good!

Only Richie had fully known of my crush on Beverly and I knew his crush on Eddie. I was the only person to know about his crush because he was worried about people finding out he was bisexual. And I was also the same. No one else And we would honestly just talk on the phone about it quite a lot. It was honestly good I could just talk with him about anything but it would sometimes just hurt knowing that I had no chance with her. 

I opened the door and was greeted with a tight hug from Beverly. She was like that with me and I hugged her back and I could smell her perfume. And it wasn't like I was smelling her or ever have  that was honestly just a creepy move. But I guess she maybe had put too much perfume on and it was intense you could say. 

"It's nice to see you again! I missed you!" Beverly whispered to me as I felt my heart melt and crush itself at the same time. It kind of hurt but in a good way. I laughed a bit. 

"It's only been a few days," I commented laughing lightly. 

"That's still a lot of time since I last saw my best friend," Beverly commented as I kept my smile.  

Now I got best friend zoned. There is no hope for me now. God why do I think I ever have a chance with her. Like if you get friend zoned you are fucked. There is no hope for you. 

"Well let's get ready," I said and started to go up my stairs and Beverly followed me in excitement. I walked into my room and started to get everything ready. 

"Can't wait for the boys to be over and we can all go trick or treating! It's going to be great!" Beverly exclaimed sitting on my bed as I nodded my head agreeing. It's going to be so much fun no doubt.  

I started to getting her face ready. Because I didn't want her face to break out much because no one likes it when you break out more than usual or at all. 

"Yeah it's going to be one of the best years of trick or treating no doubt," I commented as I started to put on the makeup. It might be a while and I hope my hand doesn't freeze up. 

After an hour of doing Beverly's makeup and my own. I was done and I looked at myself in the mirror.

"Finished," I said to myself as I had just finished my own makeup after I had done Beverly. I started to put all my brushes away and getting them clean and everything. 

I hated sharing brushes so I made sure when I was done with Beverly to wash them and clean them and then do my own. I heard Beverly outside the bathroom door that was connected to my  bedroom.

So I decided to ask something that had been on my mind for a while.

"Are you fine with Bill's girlfriend Anna being there?" I asked Beverly. 

"Yeah I am plus I already like someone else," She said mumbled due to her being in another room and probably on my bed waiting for me to finish everything. After all it was nearly time for when the boys were coming. 

But then my mind started to comprehend what Beverly had said. She likes someone else who isn't me. 

Ouch. That hurt. I like her. 

"Oh." I said and I realised my mistake so I quickly followed it up,"That's good."

"Anyways you can come in now," I said and with that it didn't take long for Beverly to come in rushing. She swung the door opened and she finally looked at herself in the mirror along with myself.

"We looks amazing!" She declared in happiness. 

"Yeah we do and you look the best," She added as I blushed lightly. I was happy that my makeup slightly covered my blush. I just hoped she wasn't paying attention. 

"You are the best Bev," I whispered smiling.

And I know I said it loud enough for her to hear me.  

"So are you," She said pulling me into a hug and I hugged her back. 

We sat down on the bed waiting for the fives minutes to past so the boys would be at my door. But I couldn't help but think my chances with her are down the water. And I guessed she noticed my happy mood be replaced. 

"Something wrong?" Beverly asked noticing my mood go down. I was just staring at the ground. I needed to tell her about my crush on her. And I was going to do that. If she hated me it would kill because I would lose my best friend and that would hurt even more.

"Look I gotta tell you something and if you want to leave you can," I said and I was hoping she wouldn't leave I was hoping.

"You're scaring me Y/n. And nothing can get me to leave," Beverly said and I hope she was keeping her word.

You can do this. Beverly would just call you a freak or anything. Just like Richie told me that she wouldn't do that. That wasn't a Beverly thing to do. I trusted Richie so I decided to just say it outright.

"I like you," I said quickly and closing my eyes worried of her reaction.

Please no calling names. Please no calling n- 

"YES!" I heard her shout and I opened my eyes confused. 

Did I hear her right? Did she just say yes? No that's gotta be wrong like thats- thats just not right. 

"Huh?" I questioned as I looked at her confused. 

"I like you too," Beverly declared happily and smiling the widest I have ever seen her. 

"You sure? You ain't faking it," I said still confused.

"Yes I'm sure I like you, you dork," Beverly said pulling me into another hug as the door bell went and I knew it was the boys. 

"Lets get our stuff," I commented walking near the door where both of our small bags were. I put mine on my back and grabbed hers about to give it to her.  

"And before we go. Do you want to be my girlfriend," Beverly said as I nodded my head. 

"Yes," I said smiling. 

We walked down the stairs and opened the doors to see the group. I saw Bill as a cheesy vampire and Anna also being a vampire. And they were wearing matching costumes thats adorable. I saw Richie dressing up as the Joker since he loves the Joker. Eddie was the Iron Man and I figured since Tony Stark was his favourite superhero. Stanley was dressing up in his bird watching gear and that wasn't going to expect anything different from him. I knew Mike was dressing up as a Werewolf and I thought of Teen Wolf. And Ben was dressing up as an Explorer and it reminded me as like Carl from Up. 

"You l-look good guys," Bill said smiling and wrapped his left arm around Anna. 

His stuttering was getting better. And I was happy for him. He seemed to be much more confident now and it's sad that a guy like him was insecure about his stutter and the fact that people were teasing him about it. 

He's such a great guy and I know his girlfriend will treat him right and he will treat her right.

"Damn Y/n and Beverly. You two look amazing," Anna said as I smiled at her. She wrapped me into a hug and then Beverly as well and pulled her towards the back of the group to say hi to everyone. I will do that also after I talk to Richie.  

"Damn! Look at you guy's make up!" Richie praised us. I laughed slightly. I hugged him and he hugged me back just as tightly. When we let go I turned and locked the front of my door. They didn't noticed as they all began talking to one another. 

I thought of Richie's fear of clowns and how we were looking like clowns. 

"Are you sure you're fine because last time I checked you were afraid of clowns," I teased him playfully bumping my shoulder against his. 

"Well last time I checked you guys were already clowns for not telling each other your feelings towards each other. And now look at you two," Richie sassed out as I had my mouth open in shock. And I could feel myself 

I blushed deeply. 

"Ohhhh something happened. Tell me everything," He said leaning in to hear all of it.

"I confessed my feelings for her," I stated.

"And?" He said trying to get the information out of me fast enough even though he knew I was going to give it to him. 

"She told me she likes me back. And now we are dating," I said excitedly and I saw Richie smiling at me with happiness. 

"So you finally got the courage to confess," Richie teased and I rolled my eyes. 

"Yes I did and thanks for being there for me Richie," I said gently and I was actually thankful for a best friend like him.

"No problem that's what best friends are for," Richie said as he wrapped his arm around me pulling me into a side hug. 

"Now all you gotta do is confess your feelings for you know who," I teased him and he smiled lightly at me while rolling his eyes and shaking his head.

"We gotta get going guys," Bill said as everyone started to get going and I was in the back.

Beverly came to me and held my hand pulling me away from Richie and went in front of the group.

"Hurry up babe I want food," Beverly complained as I blushed and rolled my eyes. 

God I couldn't wait for the memories of tonight. Tonight has got to be the best Halloween night of all time. 

[trash-the-tozier]

Dog Days (1/7)

Title: Dog Days

Length: ~36.6k words (5k for this part)

Summary: Richie Tozier is twenty years old, over halfway through a Chemistry degree at the University of Maine, and in love with his best friend and roommate, Stanley Uris. And he figures that it's fine, with no cause for change, until he finds an injured puppy near his apartment.

Warnings: Explicit language, small amounts of smoking/drinking, vague description of a dead animal, mentions of animal abuse (the animal stuff is all about the injured puppy, it’s not like... a recurring theme or smthn) and like... one punch is thrown (it's a cute fic I promise)

Pairings: Stan/Richie, background Ben/Beverly

A/N: I have a bunch of losers club x dogs headcanons, so I finally wrote one! this fic was originally written for the @itbigbang, and while the exchange ended up falling through, I did have a wonderful time writing this fic ♡ also posted to ao3 here

"Oh, here." Richie pulled Stan's phone from his hands, who let out a dissenting breath from his nose, but didn't attempt to stop him. "Beverly just sent me the mix she made. I'll put it on while we study."

"What's it called?"

"Uh..." Richie plugged Stan's phone into the speakers he'd left on the coffee table, opening up Spotify. Beverly's playlists usually had hilarious names long enough to rival Fall Out Boy themselves, but this one was unexpected. "It just says 'idiots'. No capitalization."

"Sweet, isn't she?" Stan asked, amused, pulling a notebook and a pencil from his backpack, tucking the writing utensil behind his ear so he could use both hands to pick up his Statistics textbook. That thing was heavy, Richie knew; Stan had dropped it on his head once. He frowned, scrolling through the tracklist.

"These songs are weird."

"Yeah?" Stan slid the textbook to the edge of his knees, beginning to open it.

"Yeah." Richie frowned, reading out the first song. "This Guy's In Love With You."

Stan dropped his book on his foot, cursing loudly as Richie laughed.

"...excuse me?" He finally asked.

"Do you know that song?" Richie asked back, instead of repeating himself. "It came out in 1968! Justify My Love? What is all this stuff?"

"Isn't Justify My Love that really risque Madonna song?" Stan asked, and Richie gave an incredulous little laugh, pressing play on the playlist and laying back against the couch. He nudged Stan lightly with his elbow.

"You're so gay, Stanley."

"Right." Stan raised an amused eyebrow, nudging Richie back. "You kissed four different guys at a party last week, and I'm the gay one."

"That was just for spin the bottle! Besides, I didn't say I wasn't the other gay one."

Stan rolled his eyes, turning to his Statistics homework. Richie was supposed to be working on an English essay but he felt painfully distracted, staring at his laptop screen every couple of minutes before picking up his phone. Justify My Love was, in fact, an incredibly risque Madonna song, and Richie ended up leaning forwards and skipping it because Stan was turning so red that Richie worried he might explode. Thankfully, Richie knew the next song inside and out.

"Def Leppard!" He exclaimed, as the opening guitar notes from the iconic 'Pour Some Sugar On Me' began. Stan glanced over at him.

"Don't pretend you're some classic rock fan." He said. Richie opened his mouth in offense.

"But I am!"

Stan tried to go back to his books but Richie interrupted almost immediately, splaying himself across Stan's lap and singing along in a terrible, dramatic voice, his face screwed up in a way he probably thought was 'punk rock'.

"I'm hot, sticky sweet! From my head, to my feet."

Stan glanced down at him, pursing his lips, but he did look amused.

"You're not hot, Richie. Especially if you're sticky."

Richie pouted at him.

"But I'm sweet!"

"...right."

A huge grin spread across Richie's face, catching Stan's eye and sticking his tongue out.

"Why don't you give me a taste and find out?"

Richie expected an eye roll, already imagining the dramatic position he wanted to land in on the floor when Stan inevitably shoved him off his lap. Instead Stan leaned in close, a nervous jolt racing up Richie's chest when his eyes began to close. His lips were mere centimeters away, Richie's heart hammering, when Stan stopped.

"Shut up, Richie." He murmured. And then he shoved Richie off his lap, but Richie was caught so off guard that he didn't manage to stick his landing, letting out in undignified yelp as he hit the coffee table on his way down. That had Stan laughing, laughing so hard that he leaned back on the couch and closed his eyes, and in spite of the dull throb Richie now felt in his shoulder, he had to grin. He crawled back up onto the couch, staring hard at his computer screen, trying to use the assignment as a distraction to get his heart rate back to normal. He got about a paragraph of something barely intelligible written, his fingers freezing when he heard Stan murmur a curse under his breath. Richie wasn't sure if he should say something or not, but it quickly became too much to handle.

"Fuck!" Stan finally growled, Richie trying to ignore the way his breath hitched and be a sympathetic friend instead. He'd been doing that a lot lately, when it came to Stanley.

"What?"

"I've tried this problem three times." Stan said in frustration, stabbing at the paper with his pencil tip. "And I've gotten a different wrong answer all three times. I swear I'm using the formula correctly, but..."

Richie leaned over Stan's lap, glancing over his work. He pointed at the third step of his most recent attempt.

"There. You forgot to carry the one."

"Carry the one?" Stan asked in slight disbelief, and when he realized Richie was right, he let out a groan and collapsed onto Richie's shoulder in defeat.

"I hate it when you make me feel stupid." Stan mumbled, his voice slightly muffled.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Because you're stupid."

In spite of himself, Richie chuckled.

"Why are you majoring in Accounting if you suck at math?" Richie asked. "You're so much better at other stuff."

Stan sighed, pulling himself upright. He turned back to his homework, twirling his pencil between his fingers. Richie watched his hands.

"A stable job, Richie."

"A stable job? In this economy?" The question was more of a joke than anything, and thankfully Stan laughed. Richie got to his feet, his shoes already on by the time Stan spoke up.

"Isn't that essay due by midnight tonight?"

"Yeah. I'll get it done." Richie waved a dismissive hand. "I can't focus right now, anyway."

"Going on a walk?" Stan asked, but it wasn't really a question, the answer already obvious. Richie took walks off campus when he needed to de-stress, or exhaust himself enough to get his brain to calm down and focus on an uninteresting task. This essay definitely qualified as uninteresting. Richie nodded.

"I'll probably be at work then, when you get back." Stan told him, Richie nodding a little when he realized Stan was right.

"Good luck during your shift! Don't die, or whatever." Richie said, pulling on a jacket. He took his cell phone from his pocket, showing it to Stan. "Feel free to text me if you want."

Stan nodded, Richie giving him a salute, checking his pocket for his keys and his cigarettes before stepping out the door. He kept his phone in his hand, and when he'd made it down the apartment complex steps, he called Beverly's number.

"Hey, punk." She greeted, and he grinned. "What's up?"

"Not much. Just on a walk."

"And you missed the sound of my voice?"

"C'mon sis. I always miss you." Richie told her, and she laughed a little.

"Ben and I live on the other side of campus. You can come over any time, you know that. I gave you a key to our apartment for a reason."

"Yeah yeah, I know." Richie held his phone to his ear with his shoulder, pulling out a cigarette and lighting up. "Bev, about that playlist..."

"Did you like it? Did you and Stan make out or something?"

"That's what that was about?" He asked, amused by the excitement in her voice. “I threw myself in his lap, and but he didn't go for it.”

“Oh, damn.”

Richie laughed. “C’mon Beverly, how many times do I have to tell you that I don’t like Stan?”

“You can’t fool me, Richie.” She sounded slightly reprimanding. “You want him to stick his tongue in your mouth so badly it’s insane.”

“No!” Richie insisted. “I don’t. I don’t like Stan, and I have to keep telling myself that. I have to, because if I don’t then I will definitely kiss him, and it will definitely ruin everything.”

The line was silent for a few moments, Richie watching his feet as he walked. He veered off the sidewalk and the pavement turned to drying grass underfoot, taking himself in the direct opposite direction of campus and towards a distant patch of trees.

“It might not, you know.” Beverly said quietly. “Ruin everything, I mean.”

“Yeah, but it could. We’re roommates, and we’re friends, and that has to be good enough for me.”

Richie heard Ben’s voice in the background, sounding like he was asking some sort of question, and decided he didn’t want to interrupt their afternoon any further.

“I’ve gotta go, alright? I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Rich--”

“Bye Bev!” Richie hung up before Beverly could protest, slipping his cell phone into his pocket and taking a long drag on his cigarette. He appreciated Beverly trying to help him in her own, playful way, but he needed to be deterred from kissing Stan, not encouraged. Beverly just didn’t understand the complications of love, Richie supposed. She’d met her Prince Charming when they were all thirteen, and while the two of them had taken a while to get together, they’d always liked each other. It hadn’t been that way with Stan.

Richie had thought for years that Stan didn't like him at all. Stan tolerated him, maybe, but didn’t prefer his company. They never hung out one-on-one. Stan was transparent about Bill being his Loser of choice, always next to him, always close to him. Stan liked Eddie too though, connecting with him over things like calling Richie an idiot, or being clean and neat (though Richie knew that truly Stan was the neat one; Eddie was a germaphobe, sure, but he was still a chaotic teenage boy with a unorganized room and backpack full of loose papers. Stan grew up creating alphabetized binders of bird polaroids.)

Richie made an effort, though. When he learned that Stan wore that little circle thing on his head because he was Jewish--and that Jewish people spoke a different language, which was so cool--he studied up to make puns in Hebrew, made probably too many jokes about birds, and learned that poking Stan on the cheek made him blush. Despite all this though, they didn’t hang out independent of the others when they were fifteen, and the rest of the Losers (a group which now included Mike, Ben, and Beverly Marsh) weren’t able to make Richie’s impromptu sleepover. The two of them had stayed up until nearly four in the morning, half watching the Die Hard movies and half talking about nothing and everything all at once. Stan confided in Richie that night that he was gay, not telling him until later that he was the first person he’d come out to.

“Do you like me?” Richie had asked, almost immediately after. He didn’t realize the terrible timing of his question until Stan had turned red and punched him in the shoulder.

“I didn’t mean it like that! I mean… I meant as friends.”

Stan looked incredibly surprised.

“Of course I do. I always have.”

“...oh.”

Richie’s cigarette burnt itself out between his fingers, a cold gust of wind bringing him back to the present. It was chilly for March, even by Maine standards, Richie bringing his jacket in closer around himself, fumbling with the zipper. He closed the jacket up to his chin, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He didn't remember when his crush on Stan had developed, if he was being honest. Stan was just… Different. Different from all the other Losers. Different from anyone else Richie had ever known.

If Richie was in the mood to go out and save the world, he went to Bill. If Richie wanted to recline on a couch and laugh his ass off, he went to Mike. But Stan made him feel balanced. He was just deadpan enough to take in Richie's chaotic energy, just sarcastic enough to be amused when Richie made a joke, but still bite back with a retort of his own. Stan made him feel happy, made him feel right. He couldn't explain it really, but he knew it was a feeling he couldn't lose, and if all he could be to feel like that was Stan's friend, then so be it. Friend could be agonizing at times, but it was infinitely better than nothing at all.

The sound of rushing water registered in Richie's ears a second before his shoe landed in the creek. He cursed and jumped back, losing his footing and pinwheeling his arms in a desperate attempt not to fall entirely into the water. The creek was a familiar route in his walks, the body of water a full mile from campus, and Richie turned to follow along the bank. He kept a safe distance, stepping carefully. He already had one soggy shoe; he didn't need another.

Richie forced his mind to focus as he lit a second cigarette, trying to stop daydreaming about Stan and start planning out his essay, which was much less enjoyable, but much more productive. He didn't know why he needed a literature class, being a Chemistry major and all, but he had to take it, so he was at least going to try to pass. Good grades would help him keep his scholarships, and he needed those; his job at the pizza place he and Stan worked at was barely enough to cover his share of the rent for their tiny apartment.

There was a dark pack of birds up ahead. They looked large, all having landed by the creek bed, huddled close together. Richie had to get a little closer to them to see what kind of birds they were, but once he did, they were easy to identify. Vultures. A group of them, with their wide, dark wings and ugly bald heads. Richie didn’t realize until too late what a committee of vultures must mean, the unmistakable stench of rotting meat hitting him full in the face only a few paces later. He staggered back, his face scrunching instinctively, trying not to gag. But curiosity got the better of him, approaching slowly, wanting to see what it was the vultures were all crowded around.

He couldn’t tell what animal the carcass used to be. It was decomposed, waterlogged, and in the process of being ripped apart, but he still squinted at it in confusion. The bits of fur that remained were fuzzy, dark brown and black, the creature roughly the size of a dodgeball. A rabbit, he supposed. Something like that. It was too round to be a cat, and too dark to be a raccoon, and he couldn’t think of any other animal that would find its way to the creek to drown. Feeling unsettled, and unwilling to get between a pack of vultures and their prey, Richie turned tail and headed back home.

As he said he would be, Stan was gone to work by the time Richie returned. He kicked off his shoes and peeled off his socks, both feet freezing--though the wet one much more so--tucking them under his body as he pulled his laptop into his lap. He'd left it open with the screen on, and there was a little message at the bottom of his essay that Richie realized must be from Stan.

Man, you have to analyze Grapes of Wrath? Sucks to suck, that book is terrible. I’m like 99.9% sure you didn’t read it, seeing as I never saw you holding it, so make sure to talk about the multiplying effects of selfishness and altruism, and the symbolism of the dead dog. You’re welcome. And also... good luck! c;

Richie couldn’t stop smiling and he didn’t even care, taking a picture of the message with his phone, and attaching it in a text to Stan.

To: S(a)tan You flirty little bastard

From: S(a)tan ;)

To: S(a)tan ;D

From: S(a)tan If you send me the eggplant emoji I will block you istg.

Richie bit his lip to try to stop grinning but it was futile, leaning back on the couch.

To: S(a)tan What’s wrong with a harmless vegetable? I hear they’re quite NUTritious

He could almost hear the eye roll.

From: S(a)tan I hate you. Also, since you’re only looking at theme and motif for that essay, you probably don’t have to mention that part in the book where the teenage girl breastfeeds the dying old man in a barn

To: S(a)tan Excuse me the WHAT

From: S(a)tan I told you the book was terrible. But you have an essay to write. I’m not texting you back until it’s done.

To: S(a)tan But stanleyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

Richie didn’t get a response. He sent a few more whiny messages (and even the eggplant emoji for good measure) but true to his word, Stan didn’t text him. So Richie turned to Beverly instead.

To: Lavagirl Bevvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv im lonely and bored

From: Lavagirl What, your other half went to work?

To: Lavagirl ***Stan. My Stan went to work. And I have a stupid essay to write

From: Lavagirl I know. He told me. He also told me not to text you until you finish it. Bye!

“Fucking Stanley.” Richie grumbled, when after a few attempts, Beverly didn’t respond either. Out of distractions, Richie stared down the word document for a few moments, sighed, and got to work. But Stan didn’t text him back even after he’d finished and submitted the paper, so Richie assumed he was simply busy, taking Beverly up on her offer from earlier and making the trek to her and Ben’s apartment, picking up a pizza on the way.

He knocked when he arrived--he’d walked in on too many compromising situations not to knock at their door--beaming brightly when Ben answered.

“I didn't want to only invite myself over, so I invited myself and a pizza.” He explained, Ben laughing a little as he stepped back to let Richie in.  

“I was literally just about to text you.” Beverly said when she saw him, getting up from the couch in greeting, her cell phone extended in his direction. Sure enough, an in-progress message To: Sharkboy shone on the screen. “You got that Steinbeck essay finished?”

“Yep!” Richie set the box of pizza down on the small table in the kitchen. “Didn't read the book and submitted the first draft without revising it, just like my momma taught me.”

Beverly slapped him a high five, while Ben looked disapproving. Richie caught the expression.

“C’mon, Ben! It was Grapes of Wrath. That book is terrible. It doesn't deserve a good essay.”

“How do you know it's terrible? You just said you didn't read it.”

“I was told that it was bad by one very reliable source, thank you.”

“But it's Steinbeck!” Ben sat down at the table next to him. “He’s an award winning author. The way he puts prose together--”

“Steinbeck is a dweeb.” Richie said flippantly. Then, when Ben opened his mouth to protest, he continued. “And so are you, Ben.”

“Yeah, but he's my dweeb.” Beverly interjected, walking up behind Ben to come to the table. Ben looked back at her.

“You think I'm a dweeb?” He asked, Beverly grinning and looping her arms around his shoulders, kissing his cheek. He turned pink and the conversation was effectively closed, Richie grinning and moving to open the pizza box.

“We already ate.” Beverly interrupted. “Ben made dinner. It’s just chicken and pasta, but you can have some if you--”

“Thank god.” Richie closed the box again, getting up with it in hand and walking to the trash can. After working at a place that made pizza, he didn't enjoy the pseudo-Italian food as much as he used to. He would still eat it if there was no alternative though, unlike Stan, who would rather starve. “I really--”

“Woah, hey! What are you doing?” Beverly intercepted his path, taking the pizza box from him. “Not everyone here works at a pizza place. I still enjoy eating one of the greatest food inventions of the century.”

“Good for you then.” Richie helped himself to the aforementioned leftovers, the healthy food causing him to frown and turn back. He’d just remembered something, how Ben had slowly but surely been slimming himself down. “Wait, are you sure you want that, though? Isn't there some diet thing you guys are doing?”

“It's not a diet.” Ben said quickly. “It's just… I'm just making my own food, instead of eating that processed, high sodium crap I was fed all the time when I lived at home.”

“Well, it's working for you, buddy.” Richie put the plate in the microwave, turning to give Ben a wink. “You're looking good.”

“He's getting really good at cooking, too.” Beverly said in excitement, sliding the pizza box into the fridge. All of the praise had Ben's face slightly pink again. “That is the best way to a person's heart, you know.”

“I've heard that between the fourth and fifth rib is a pretty good way, too.”

Ben frowned at his pessimism, Richie sitting down. Beverly sat down across from him.

“You're just jealous because you don't have a dweeb.” She declared.

“Stan isn't a dweeb.” Richie said quickly. A grin grew on Beverly face.

“I didn't say anything about Stan.”

“Sure, but you were thinking it, and he was thinking it--” Richie pointed his fork at Ben with a sigh-- “and I was thinking it, so…”

“Why don't you just tell him?” Ben asked. “What's the worst that could happen?”

Richie stroked an invisible beard, pretending to think.

“Let's see. I confess my feelings--probably by kissing him because let's face it, I'm hopelessly in love and rash action is very much my style--and he's so freaked out by his roommate having a big gay crush on him that he changes his name, moves to Yemen, and I never see him again.”

“Don't give yourself so much credit. You're not so bad of a kisser that it drives people to move to another country.”

“Bev, I kissed Cynthia Anderson in ninth grade, and a week later she moved to Canada.”

“That was a coincidence!” Beverly exclaimed, as Ben laughed. “Just be charming! You could… I don't know, write him cute notes or something.”

Richie rolled his eyes.

“I'm not Ben.”

“Hey, it worked.” Ben pointed out, Beverly nodding.

“If I leave him love notes like Ben did, then he'll probably just think the notes are from Bill, like Beverly did!” Richie pointed out. He frowned. “Bill is cool. Stan would probably go out with Bill.”

The following silence lasted a little longer than Richie liked, neither one of them rushing to his defense.

“C’mon, guys!”

“You won't know until you try, and that's all I'm going to say.” Beverly said. “Speaking of Bill though, I talked to him today. We talked about possible tourist stops for The Road Trip.”

“Oh, tell me.” Richie said excitedly, stuffing a bite of chicken in his mouth in preparation to listen without interrupting. The Road Trip was a dream hatched up by Mike, an idea to get a van after graduation and drive around the country, fueled purely by nothing more than the desire to get the hell out of Maine. None of the Losers, aside from Ben and Eddie, had ever left the state before. But Ben had simply moved in from a different state in middle school, and Eddie was out of the state now, at a pharmacology school in New York with his tuition, housing, and meal plan all controlled by his mother's money. He claimed to like the freedom of the city, though.

They spent the next couple of hours brainstorming about things they could do, and places they could go. Most of it was simply amusing and unrealistic (in truth, the whole trip was unrealistic, but they tried not to think about that) Richie in the middle of explaining just how they would get away with stealing the world's largest boot out of Minnesota when his phone began to ring. It was Stan.

“King Stanrick the Third!” He answered grandly, putting on a rather bad British accent. “How was your shift at the pizza palace?”

“Monotonous.” Stan answered. “You finished that essay, then?”

“All done with time to spare, thanks to you!” Richie told him.

“Yeah, you're welcome. Hey, have you had dinner yet?”

“Yeah.” Richie said apologetically. “Ben and Beverly took pity on me and gave me their table scraps.”

Ben looked a bit disgruntled at his home cooked meal being called table scraps.

“That's awesome, actually.” There was a smile in Stan's voice now. “I am craving sushi, and now I can get some without you complaining.”

“You disgust me.” Sushi was about as abhorrent as asparagus, which Richie lovingly referred to as 'the green stalks from hell’. Stan laughed.

“Anything we need from the store while I'm out?” He asked. Richie thought for a moment.

“We are out of ice cream.” He said. The line was quiet for a moment, Richie able to hear the background noise of the road as Stan drove.

“...anything essential we need from the store?” Stan tried again.

“Ice cream is essential, Stanley! It shaped me into the man I am today!”

“Really? Then maybe you should never eat it again.”

“Fuck off.”

Stan laughed again, a quieter and more private kind of laugh that had Richie grinning, holding the phone a bit closer to his ear.

“Alright.” Stan allotted. “We're broke as hell, but I'll see what I can do.”

“See you soon?”

“Yeah.”

Then Stan hung up, Richie slowly lowering his phone. He'd all but forgotten about his friends, and Bev had a shit-eating grin on her face.

“Oh, fuck both of you.” He said, the words made infinitely less menacing by the light blush on his cheeks. “Also, thank you for having me over, the food was delicious, I love you both so so much, and I'm going home.”

He said it all quickly, rushing around the table to give both Ben and Beverly tight hugs, then made his way out the door. Richie showered and put on comfy clothes, and about thirty minutes later Stan was home, a half-eaten roll of sushi in one hand and a small grocery bag in the other.

“Hey.” He greeted, but Richie made a show of scrunching his nose up.

“You smell like raw fish.” He said. He couldn’t actually smell the sushi, but knowing it was there was bad enough. Stan rolled his eyes.

“No I don't. I smell like pizza grease, and I need a shower.”

Stan was right, and soon disappeared into the bathroom. When he re-emerged he was clean and warm, soft in a loose t-shirt and old pajama pants as he sat next to Richie on the couch, his curly hair a little damp and slightly frizzed from drying.

“Well Stanley, it's nearly nine-thirty on a Sunday evening. Ready to get crazy?” Richie asked.

“Crazy. Right.” Stan gave him an amused look. “I have class tomorrow, so no. And you have work.”

“I do?” Richie didn't remember being put on the schedule. Stan nodded.

“The manager asked me if you were free to cover an opening shift tomorrow, and I said yes, because you are.”

“Opening shift? Those are so early though!”

“Ten-thirty is not early, Rich. Just because you only have class on Tuesdays and Thursdays doesn't mean you can spend Monday doing nothing.”

“I'm pretty sure that's exactly what it means, actually.” Richie countered. “Real talk though, anything you want to do?”

Stan thought for a moment.

“I still am only on season three of Brooklyn Nine-Nine.” He said, and Richie gasped.

“Yes, that, we’re doing that right now.” He quickly pulled up a streaming site on his computer--prompting a “we really need a TV” comment from Stan--hurrying off to get his laptop's charger cord. When he returned Stan was holding a half pint of Ben and Jerry's ice cream, and two spoons.

“You said you wanted ice cream. Want to share?” He offered, and Richie felt his heart melt into a puddle of goo on the floor. The episode started and they settled in in front of the computer screen, Richie remembering something almost at once. He pointed his spoon at Stanley in excitement.

“Stan! Can I spoil something from season five?”

“What? No.”

“It’s really important! Please? Please?” Richie repeated the word eleven more times, and finally Stan relented.

“Fine! What is it?”

“Rosa is bi! She’s bisexual.”

“Oh.” Stan smiled. “Cool.”

“Yep.” Richie winked. “Me and Rosa Diaz, two badass bisexuals.”

Stan laughed, shaking his head.

“No, you cannot compare yourself to Rosa. You’re more of a Scully than a Rosa.”

“Hey!” Richie protested, eventually convincing Stan that he was much more like Jake, the show’s main protagonist. After some hilarious back and forth Stan was likened to Amy, the character Jake just happened to be in a relationship with. If Stan noticed the comparison he didn't let on, and Richie sure as hell wasn't going to say anything about it.

“That was fun, but let’s not do the other Losers.” Stan requested.

“Oh! That Was Fun But Let’s Not Do The Other Losers: title of your sex tape.” Richie exclaimed, knocking his spoon against Stan’s. Stan laughed at the reference, leaning back into the couch cushions and resting his head on Richie’s shoulder. Richie’s breath caught in his throat, and he tried to slowly ease into the contact, Stan staying cuddled close to him for the entirety of the episode, even after the ice cream ran out. This was Richie’s third rewatch of the comedy, but for those thirty minutes, he couldn’t have said a single thing the episode was about.

[skeletonscribbles]

Wishes - Chapter 8

it’s been a minute, hasn’t it? sorry! Bill’s a toughie, and this chapter’s a lot, but it’s done, and it’s here!!

Title: “What’s This?” (Bill)

Rating: G, but like, an angsty G

Summary:  “Proposed new name for the group chat: Santa Tozier and his ho, ho, hoes!”

Warnings: unfavorable portrayal of Flynn Ryder, cryptid Stanley (although that’s less of a warning and more of a celebration of fact)

Read on Ao3!

Tag List:  @roobarrtrashmouth @jem-carstairs-is-perfection @tozier-club@aizeninlefox@stanheartsbill@latinxrichie@softeds@pretzelstoday@melancholypurple@wheezygreens@ayyyymichele @loser-marsh

BILL DENBROUGH - STILL GUEST RELATIONS, MAGIC KINGDOM

currently at the MAGIC KINGDOM CHRISTMAS PARTY AS A GUEST

DECEMBER 15th

7:15 P.M.

“Eds.”

“What.”

“I have a proposition for you.”

“If you make that joke about jingling your balls one more time, Richard –”

“I wasn’t going to do that again this time!” Richie protested, wearing an expression that indicated that he was totally going to do that again this time.

Bill winked, swung his backpack over his shoulder, and opened it, digging around through all of his various pairs of sunglasses and bottles of sunscreen until he found what he was looking for.

“Here.” He tossed Richie the tye-dyed Santa hat he’d picked up at a yard sale when he’d visited back home in early September. He’d grabbed it especially FOR Richie; his friend’s face had popped into his mind the instant he’d laid eyes on the cursed thing. “Some balls to jingle. Or, ball, as it were.”

Richie’s face lit up, and he immediately jammed the hat on to his head. His hair curled out and around it in a way that made him look a little bit like a bush that had been set on fire. “Proposed new name for the group chat: Santa Tozier and his ho, ho, hoes!”

“The group chat will be immediately deleted if you even think that phrase again,” Stan informed him flatly, eyeing the hat with an eyebrow raise that meant that he was either amused or disturbed. Bill couldn’t tell which.

Actually, Bill was having a bit of trouble reading a lot of Stan’s moods. He had way less of a handle on him than he’d imagined he had in the beginning. In retrospect, it was kind of funny how he’d thought they’d all known one another so well right out of the gate. The group dynamic was still good, for the most part, but they all still had a lot to learn about each other, and as such it was clear to everyone at this point that their convergence was hardly the freaky cosmic happenstance that at least Bev had taken it for.

That fact was on all of their minds, Bill was pretty sure - but they were nothing if not a stubborn and persistent bunch, and so they marched along, determined to have fun at this Christmas party.

“We’re getting cocoa and cookies first thing, right?” asked Bev excitedly, bouncing a little as one of the greeters fastened her wristband.

“Are we?” Ben was chewing anxiously on his lip. Bill pretended not to be affected by the nervous energy that was emanating off of his poor friend.

“It’s free,” Mike shrugged, “why not. First treat spot is at Casey’s Corner.”

“And after that? By the way, is everybody in?” Eddie stood up on his tiptoes, trying to see if everyone was accounted for. He looked to Richie, the tallest of their little group, for help, but Richie was still preoccupied with the hat, so he switched over to staring pleadingly at Bill.

“Uh.” Bill counted quickly in his head - he could see Stan with his wristband, Bev, Richie, Eddie, the greeter was finishing putting a band on Ben, and…where was Mike?

“We’re all set.” Mike was behind him. He spoke clearly and stepped forward, clapping a hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “I was wondering if you thought we should hit up Princess Fairytale Hall after Casey’s? I know that there’s rare characters out and about.”

Eddie stared up at Mike’s face, and then back down at the hand that was still down on his shoulder. Bill crossed his arms over his chest, willing back a snarl. This wasn’t the first time in the last couple of weeks that Mike had been a little extra distant, a little extra touchy with other people. Bill had taken a lot of flack from Beverly in the wake of their relationship about his possessiveness and penchant for jockeying himself into a more dominant position in his interactions with others, so he was trying to be cool, but it wouldn’t last much longer. He was going to snap and ask Mike what the fuck was going on, and it was probably going to happen sooner rather than later.

Bill’s only solace in the fact that Mike’s hand was now making its way down Eddie’s arm was the fact that Richie was blatantly unhappy about it, too. He was hovering behind Eddie in a way that would have been distinctly threatening, if he were anyone but Richie, and his eyes were locked on Mike’s hand with an unearthly sort of intensity.

“Um.” Eddie’s voice brought Bill back to Earth, kind of. His stomach was still kind of twisted up, but it would subside, probably, as long as Mike kept the weird interactions to a minimum. Richie’s gaze, on the other hand, only seemed to grow MORE intense, to the point where Bill was genuinely concerned that Mike was going to be able to feel it if Richie didn’t dial things back soon. “I think Flynn Ryder’s there, if I remember everyone’s schedule correctly. That of interest to anyone?”

“Yes,” Stan said, a little too quickly. Bill crossed his arms tighter and squeezed his eyes shut for a split second.

“Okay, so we can do that, and then maybe head to Ad-Lib?” Ben was still a little pale, but that was irrelevant in the face of the fact that he was also mercifully sane when the rest of them were so clearly not. “I want to hear Richie go through the Jingle Cruise spiel.”

Richie blinked and tore his eyes away from Mike’s hand, which had finally, FINALLY retracted from Eddie’s arm. “I’m flattered, Hanscom, but I’m not on the clock. We can do Jingle, and I’ll probably heckle the shit out of whoever our skip is, but if you want to catch one of my botes you gotta do it on your own time.”

“Still good with me.” Ben smiled weakly, obviously aware of the quiet, crackling tension in the air and wanting desperately to diffuse it. “After that, we can talk about mapping out the rest of our night? The Christmas Wishes show is at 9, and I’d like to try and catch the parade…”

“I love the parade!” Bev was right there with him. “What do you say, boys?”

“All good by me.” Mike was amiable as ever. “Y’all?”

“Y’all? You’re not even from the South, Mikey, what the hell. I’m good for whatever,” Richie said, although once again, his face suggested that he was still apprehensive.

“Same,” agreed Stan, giving Richie a quick, meaningful look. Beside him, Eddie was also nodding.

“Let’s go to PFH, you guys. I know people. We’ll cut the line. It’ll be great.”

“Casey’s first,” Bev insisted. “Sugar cookies. Need it. C’mon.”

She grabbed for Ben’s hand and tugged, and with almost no resistance, Ben stumbled along behind her. That left the rest of them no choice but to try and keep up, which made for a less romantic stroll down Main Street than Bill had been hoping for.

Why was he letting himself get so disappointed by the little things tonight?

“We’ll have time later for you to play tour guide, yaknow.” Richie had slowed down his walk to keep pace with Bill. He seemed to be the only person in tune with Bill’s feelings at the moment, which was absolutely bizarre, given that their relationship over the past three years had mostly been built on brief, comic interactions and a series of mostly work related favors. “Although as ideas go, that one’s not exactly stellar.”

“Why not?” Bill squinted over at Richie, who was looking at the back of Eddie’s neck in front of him with longing in his eyes. “I mean, if you’ve got info about the park, might as well dispense it, no?”

“It makes non-park folks a little antsy sometimes,” Richie responded neatly, looking away from Eddie and between Bill and Stan. Bill grimaced, and swallowed hard.

“Has he said–?”

“No, but I know him.” Richie sped up his walk a little bit, obviously hoping to keep up a little bit better with Eddie. “It’s just a suggestion.”

“Noted,” Bill muttered, watching with no small amount of envy as Richie sidled up to Eddie and slid his huge, clumsy hand into Eddie’s neat little one. Stan and Mike were way too far ahead for Bill to be able to catch up with at this point, and given how the night was going so far, he wasn’t really sure if he wanted to catch up at all.

Bev was already halfway through her serving of sugar cookies by the time Bill entered Casey’s Corner. Ben was beside her, holding a cup of hot cocoa that obviously didn’t belong to him, and he shrugged apologetically as Bill walked towards them.

“Good, Bev?” Bill smiled quietly at her as she worked to swallow the bite of cookie she had in her mouth. His relationship with Bev, at least, was consistent.

“Perfect.” Crumbs sprayed from her mouth as she talked, but Bill and Ben were unfazed. In fact, Ben’s gaze seemed to grow more fond, if that was even possible. (Bill was SO glad they’d found each other. He couldn’t have asked for a better situation for his friend.)

“Seconded!” Richie’s mouth was just straight up full of cookie. Apparently, he couldn’t be bothered to swallow before speaking. Bill wasn’t surprised, but he couldn’t help but be a little disappointed, if only because he’d just had cookie crumbs spit in his direction. “They got the good shit this year, not the cheap shit. Hallelujah. If the Snickerdoodles at Harbor House are even half this good, I’m gonna cum in my pants.”

“That all it takes?” Eddie was wearing a small little smile, and his ears were red in a way that suggested that even he couldn’t quite believe the question that had come out of his mouth. Richie turned his head slowly to stare over at him wondrously, like he was a Christmas present that Richie hadn’t expected to get.

“Eds, are you trying to seduce me in a hot dog restaurant?” To anyone else, that would sound like an incredulous joke, but Bill knew that Richie was excited and totally sincere. There was really no place more fitting for a Richie Tozier seduction than a restaurant that sold overpriced phallic foods.

“That depends,” Eddie said, blush spreading to his cheeks, “is it working?”

Bill was hit, suddenly and extremely, with a wave of jealousy that was relatively akin to nausea.

“No fucking way.” Bill pushed his way towards the exit of the restaurant. “You assholes. Gonna be gross and ruin everything.”

Richie yelled something indecipherable back at him (his mouth was obviously full of food again) but Bill was long gone. He exited the doors of the restaurant and stared down Main Street, trying to ignore whatever emotional ache had taken up residence in his bones.

He felt a familiar hand on his shoulder after about a minute and a half. “Bill. What’s up.”

“I’m okay, Stan.” Bill covered Stan’s hand with his own for a quick second, and then pulled away. “Just cranky.”

“Is this something we should talk about later?” Stan asked, obviously taking pains to keep his voice neutral.

Bill pressed his lips into a tight line, and then nodded curtly. “Later.”

“You wanna take a picture with me, Mike, and Flynn when we get to PFH?” Stan continued carefully. It was clear that he had noticed Bill’s behavior when they were making plans earlier.

Bill focused his eyes on Stan’s and took a deep breath. There were wrinkles of concern (or maybe amusement?) around his eyes, and Bill tried to let himself be comforted by Stan’s obvious emotional response, but it wasn’t taking. Sighing, he slid his hands over and across Stan’s shoulders, wondering why he couldn’t get his brain to settle down.

“Yeah,” he finally replied, looking back at Stan’s face. “We can do that.”

“Let Mike work this out,” Stan told him, eyebrows drawn and serious, “okay? He’s never dated white people before. It’s like…an identity crisis for him.”

“Has he been talking to you about this?” Bill asked, caught off guard.

“Let’s go, boys!” The remaining five members of their group were pushing their way out of Casey’s and collectively ignoring the fact that Richie’s hot chocolate was sloshing everywhere, including back on to Richie’s green Goofy Christmas sweater. Eddie was leading the pack, looking more confident than Bill had ever seen him. “Rapunzel awaits!”

Stan took one more long, lingering look at Bill, then turned to go join the group, pulling Bill along with him by the hand. Bill let himself be taken, and put a pin in his questions and feelings for later as they crossed through the castle and into Fantasyland.

Mike slowed his walk and joined Bill and Stan as Pinocchio’s Village Haus came into sight. “Doing okay, babes?”

“We’re good,” Bill responded mechanically, absently letting go of Stan and moving towards Mike so that he could brush cookie crumbs off of his chin. “Flynn Rider?”

“Yeah, Eddie’s really gung-ho about it,” Mike nodded, seemingly not noticing Bill’s robotic response. “I think he’s really proud to show us all where he works and who he works with.”

“He knows I see him there all the time, right?” Bill asked, looking questioningly from Stan to Mike.

Stan shot him a slightly exasperated glance. “Mike really means that he’s proud to show Richie where he works, I think.”

“And the rest of us,” Mike defended. “It’s the first time we’ve done something like this before, all seven. It’s kind of a big deal.”

“Are you guys coming or what?” Eddie called from the beginning of the Princess Fairytale line, bouncing eagerly on the tips of his toes. Beside him, Bev was mirroring his movements, and Ben and Richie were watching both of them with mild trepidation.

“Yes,” Stan said firmly, and the three of them walked single file down and through the doorway of Princess Fairytale Hall. Eddie led with aplomb, and when they reached the character attendant at the head of the line, they were let through without question or issue. They didn’t even have to tell her how many people were in their party. Bill was impressed in spite of himself at how much pull Eddie seemed to have with the entertainment (and entertainment adjacent) cast.

“Rapunzel’s one of my favorites,” Bev admitted, shooting Ben a toothy smile. “I’ve never met Flynn Ryder before.”

“I knew some people who were in charge of putting up the Rapunzel section of New Fantasyland a couple of years ago,” Ben said, smiling back. “They were so mad that their area didn’t have rides or meet and greets or anything. Felt like it was a waste to just make it a bathroom.”

“Best bathrooms in the park, though,” Richie jumped in, “I should know, I’ve tested every single one–”

The female character attendant leaned her head back in. “Rapunzel and Flynn are ready for you now!”

“Are they though,” Stan mused out loud, “are they really?”

“Thanks, Lauren,” Eddie said, touching her arm gratefully. She gave him a sweet, genuine smile, and then disappeared behind the door again. “She’s such a sweetheart, you guys.”

“Are you, like, your whole area’s GBF, or what?” Bill couldn’t help but ask.

“GBF?” Eddie turned towards him, confused.

“Gay best friend,” Bill explained, smiling a little bit at the thought that Eddie Kaspbrak, of all people, had not encountered that acronym before. Behind Eddie, Richie was making a face like Bill had grown an extra head, and Bev was eyeing him with concern as well.

Had he made a mistake…?

Eddie stiffened, and turned back towards the door. “I’m nobody’s GBF, or whatever. You should know better, Denbrough. Let’s go.”

“You’re such an idiot sometimes,” Stan muttered as they shuffled forward, and Bill felt his face grow hot. What had he done? There was really no predicting what Eddie would take offense to, so why was Stan asking him to?

Was he just paranoid…?

Rapunzel and Flynn were waiting for them with open arms when they walked into the elaborately decorated room. Rapunzel swept her eyes over all of them, beaming, but Flynn had locked on a target: Eddie Kaspbrak’s little freckled nose.

Bill shifted so that he was standing closer to Richie. Catastrophe was in the air on all fronts, and Bill didn’t want to take any chances.

“Well hello there, sweetheart,” Flynn grinned, eyes never leaving Eddie’s as he shifted into his trademark smolder. “I think I’ve seen you before, yeah? Wouldn’t forget a face like yours - I bet they even get your nose right on the posters–”

“Hey, dude,” Bill found himself saying, trying to cut things short before Richie could get a word in edgewise, “how’s it going? Hit by any frying pans recently?”

Flynn looked up at Bill, unimpressed. “We’ve moved past that point in our relationship, haven’t we dear?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” and Bill was almost surprised when it was Rapunzel that responded to ‘dear’ instead of Eddie, “I do love using my frying pan, and you’re no saint.” She was looking flintily at Flynn, too - apparently she was also cognizant of whatever situation was brewing.

“I bet he’s terrible, isn’t he?” Richie was done keeping his mouth shut. Bill shoved his hands in his pockets, looked down, and hoped for the best. “Not so much of a fan of the frying pan method myself - luckily, Eddie here is always a saint.” He grabbed Eddie’s hand to punctuate his point. “How do we feel about taking frying pans to people that flirt with other people’s boyfriends, though, because–”

“Let’s just get a picture,” Stan interrupted, moving to stand between Rapunzel and Flynn. “Please.”

The rest of the group acquiesced almost immediately, desperate to keep Richie from cutting in again. The picture was probably going to come out horribly. There was no way that anyone was smiling genuinely.

“You never said you had a boyfriend, Eddie,” Bill heard Flynn whisper lowly as the camera flash went off.

“I definitely did say that,” Eddie hissed back, and then it was over, and they were being waved out.

“Who the fuck was that guy?” Bev asked as soon as everyone was back out and under the warm, hazy lights of Fantasyland.

“His name is Jeremy,” Eddie said, bitter, “and he’s a real tool, but did you really have to go there, Richie? Really? I was handling it.”

Richie opened his arms and tilted his hands so that his palms were angled towards the sky. “Can you blame me? Did you see the way he was looking at you? Total fucking pervlord. How many of the princes are like that?”

“Enough,” Eddie admitted, “but you can’t fucking do that every time someone—I mean, you know that. You know how I feel about–” and he fell silent for a moment, obviously struggling to find the words that he wanted, “about–”

“Yeah.” Richie’s voice had dropped an octave, and for the first time in three years, Bill saw genuine embarrassment in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Eds.”

Eddie’s expression softened, too. “Let’s just go to Harbor House, okay? Snickerdoodles, and then Jungle?”

“I love snickerdoodles!” Mike, ever positive, was visibly desperate to get the outing back on the rails. He edged backwards, clearly ready to walk over to Liberty Square. Bill wanted to touch him; wanted to run his hand over his back assuringly, but felt like he couldn’t, for whatever bizarre reason. Mike was totally out of reach tonight. “I think that’s a great plan.”

“Liberty ho,” Ben called, walking over to the sword in the stone and making a show of trying to pull it out to underscore his command. Bev laughed and immediately went to join him, and soon all seven of them were around and on top of each other, lost in the complete chaos of having seven people trying to extract a single sword from a stone they knew wasn’t going to yield. It was the perfect tension diffuser, and even as he cursed Bev out for slipping and using his hair to catch herself, Bill was grateful. Ben always knew how to get things spinning again.

After a few minutes of their seven person excavation attempt, they piled off of the stone, laughing and stumbling towards Liberty Square (much to the relief of every single Fantasyland cast member).

“We should have taken a picture,” bemoaned Bev, fixing her hair in her phone camera.

“Yeah, that would have been good for Instagram,” Richie joked, “caption it: ‘writhing mass of limbs fails to pull plastic sword from plastic rock’.”

“We’re a cryptid,” Stan realized, expression comedically alight, and with that, Bill couldn’t help but spend the rest of the walk to Liberty Square insisting that they ride Mansion given their new cryptid status. He was shot down, 5-2. (Mike, for the first time all night, was on his side, but to no avail.) Harbor House was a momentary pitstop that was more ‘how many cookies can Richie stuff down his pants without getting kicked out of the restaurant’ than legitimate break, and then it was on through the Adventureland Veranda towards the Jungle.

Every single CP that was working (which was like…6 CPs, they really understaffed the park for parties) at Jungle recoiled when they saw Richie coming.

“What did we do to deserve this?” asked the gangly, gawky kid at Greeter as they approached, peering nervously up at Richie from under the brim of his safari hat. “Thought you were off today, Rich.”

“I can’t believe you’re infamous,” Stan complained, shaking his head vigorously at his roommate.

“I’m not good with kids, Stanny. Sorry,” Richie said, approaching Gangly Limbs. “Anyway, what’s it to you, Noodle? It’s not like I’m working a shift.”

“Yeah, but–” the kid started, stepping forward to try and get Richie to back off, but when Richie didn’t move, the poor kid immediately caved. “Okay. Whatever. Rosa will probably let you commandeer her bote if you ask.”

Richie winced. “Rosa’s spieling? Dude.”

“I know.” The kid shook his head, sighing. “Neil Patrick Harris came through two parties ago and rode Rosa’s bote. It was embarrassing all around.”

“How do I always miss celebrities?” Richie whined at the same time that Stan yelped, “You guys see guests like Neil Patrick Harris?!?”

Bill stepped in with an answer for Stan. “Yeah, MK’s pretty lucky that way. One of my coworkers was assigned to Chris Pratt a week or so ago, and another is going to be the VIP Guide for Chris Evans’ annual trip in like, three days.”

Stan rolled his eyes and tugged agitatedly at a curl. “Park privilege. Ugh.”

“Anyway,” the kid tried again, clearly anxious to have them gone, “go up the Fastpass line, Richie. No one will complain.”

Richie fixed him with a flat look. “I’ve been here for three years, kid. I know what I’m doing.”

“Let’s just go, okay?” Eddie tugged on Richie’s sleeve anxiously. Gawky Kid shot him a grateful smile.

“See you later, Noodle,” Richie waved, still obviously unimpressed. The kid was going to be on the receiving end of Richie roasts and pranks for weeks, Bill was sure.

When their bote came around the corner, Richie informed them unenthusiastically that their tour guide was indeed going to be Rosa, and proceeded to complain about how unfunny she was until Mike unceremoniously cut him off.

“Rich. Why don’t you just jack the mic?”

Richie shifted awkwardly and looked down into the greenish brown water. “Not my place, probably.”

“Why are you embarrassed of this?” Stan, as always, cut right to the chase. “I’ve ridden your bote. Bill’s been on your bote. I think Bev’s been on your bote. Is it Mike? Ben?”

They all knew what Stan was getting at, and most of them had the decency to look away while Richie processed what was actually going on up in his brain. Bill, however, had never been a decent man (not by his own reckoning, anyway), and so he kept his eyes glued to Richie, watching with interest as Richie fastidiously avoided looking at Eddie.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed in front of me, Richie,” Eddie said quietly. “I’m not gonna stop liking you. You know that, right?”

“Getting there,” Richie muttered. “You guys really want a Richie Tozier show?”

“Yes!” The response was instantaneous. All six of them snapped back around, staring at Richie expectantly.

“Well all right then.” Richie smiled softly. It was a small smile, but there was no doubt in Bill’s mind that it was genuine. “Let’s go, then. I’m not gonna give you my usual safetly spiel, but like…don’t slip when you get into the boat. The Richie Tozier express dumps dead weight, so if you fall and hit your head, you’re toast. Gator food.”

“If you truly dumped dead weight, you’d have tossed yourself over a long time ago,” Bev quipped, and the group was immediately back to that safe, happy sword-in-the-stone place. Good. Bill wasn’t sure how many more ups and downs he could stomach over the course of the night.

Rosa surrendered her vehicle immediately once she saw Richie on the dock (he seemed to be a source of great terror for the current crop of CPs), and Richie took up the Skipper mantle neatly and immediately, jumping on board and switching out his tye-dye Santa hat for Rosa’s Jungle Skipper Santa hat. He grabbed the mic with aplomb and started waving it around obnoxiously. “This thing on? Just kidding, it doesn’t have to be, I’m loud as fuck. Sorry, frick,” he apologized, eyeing the coordinator on the side of the dock. “Sit down and be amazed, Benjamin. You’re about to risk your life by being in a vehicle with me to see a bunch of shadowy show scenes because the lighting on this attraction is trash. It’s Christmas themed, though, so it’s at least like…jolly. Fun! Any last words?“

Bill had, of course, been on Richie’s bote probably hundreds of times, so the spiel wasn’t entirely new to him (even if it was Jingle rather than Jungle). That being the case, he chose to spend the bote ride watching his friends.

Ben was absolutely enraptured by Richie. It had obviously been a while since he’d ridden the Jungle Cruise, and to Richie’s delight, that meant that Ben laughed at even the more stale, scripted jokes. Beside him, Bev was giggling less at Richie’s jokes and more at Ben’s earnestness. The two of them were adorable, even if Ben was still looking a little pale and shaky.

Stan was…unreadable, again. He kept his eyes trained on Richie the whole ride, but in such a way that Bill could genuinely not tell whether he was annoyed by Richie’s tirade or proud of him for it. Bill wondered whether both of those options weren’t true. In contrast, Mike wasn’t looking at Richie at all. He was staring off of the side of the bote contemplatively, as if weighing two incredibly difficult decisions. The sight of him made Bill feel inexplicably wary, as if something bad was coming down the pipeline.

Okay, that was definitely just paranoia.

Finally, Eddie….God, the Eddie that had shown up for this party was not an Eddie that Bill had ever seen before. Eddie’s nervous exterior was still very much intact, but there was a really clear and distinct excitement and longing behind his jittery outer shell when he looked at Richie, and it made Bill wonder whether Eddie had ever really felt heckled by Richie in Adventureland at all. There were absolutely no signs of exasperation in Eddie’s face or body, which was absolutely astonishing. He was completely devoted to hearing, seeing, experiencing Richie.

When the ride ended, Bill was more than a little jealous. What was working with Richie and Eddie that wasn’t working with he, Stan, and Mike? What was working with Ben and Bev?

“And as we end our two week trip through however many rivers I just said we trekked through, I just wanted to say,” Richie was finishing, leaning carelessly back against the front of the bote and not breaking eye contact with Eddie, “that you’ve been the cutest group I’ve ever brought through here, and when I say that, I am of course only referring to Eddie. Anyways…I was thinking, nay, planning ahead earlier in the week, and so tell me, folks: if I say, made hotel reservations in Anaheim in July, whaddya say we make a trip, just the seven of us Losers?”

There was a quick, astonished silence as they all processed Richie’s words, and then:

“FUCK yeah!”

“I’ve never been to Disneyland!”

“I’ll see if I can get time off, that would be awesome–”

“You’re a genius, Rich!”

Eddie, for his part, did not respond. Instead, he calmly stood up (despite Richie’s earlier warnings against moving in the bote), pushed his way to the front, and attached his lips firmly to Richie’s.

Bill watched them for thirty whole seconds before it occurred to him to look away or do anything else. Fortunately, he was covered by the fact that Ben was clapping loudly and Bev was wolf-whistling. He joined in with the clapping, feeling strangely embarrassed…not that he had any reason to be. Well, no, he kind of had a reason to be. Now that Richie and Eddie had finally taken that particular plunge (Bill was like, 95% sure that they were witnessing their first official kiss), they didn’t seem to be stopping. People had to yell from the docks to get Richie to pull away and drive the bote back up to unload.

He looked back over at Stan, and found that Stan was looking at Mike with a sweet, tender expression. They were having a moment…and Bill wasn’t a part of it.

When it was time to disembark, Bill jockeyed to be the first one out of the bote, pushing hastily to get himself on to shore. He’d had enough of being jostled by waves he wasn’t prepared for.

If they were going to make it to July, some serious conversation was going to have to happen.

[georgies-boat]

The Bully’s Sister // Loser’s Club

Word Count- 1526

Summary- Making friends isn’t exactly easy for you, especially when you happen to be Henry Bower’s little sister.

Warnings; Language (but then again, it’s Richie?)

A/n; First imagine on this account! I absolutely love IT, and I’m watching it for the second time tonight. I’m unhealthily obsessed. 

Requested; Nope. Requests are now open!

-

You stood quietly next to Greta and your friends as you walked into the girls bathroom. You should've known what was coming, but you weren't thinking it through. As soon as you saw a closed stall, however, you knew what was going down. “Come on Greta, she's not worth our time.” You tried, but she only glared at you. Sighing, you stepped back and let them do their thing. That is, until you saw the trash about to be dumped on Beverly's head. “Okay, stop. This is ridiculous.” You said, pushing yourself off the wall and storming over to Greta.

“Why, Y/N? Why are you standing up for a loser like her?” Greta asked, looking you up and down. “Because she's nicer than you'll ever be.” You spat, and you looked over just in time to see trash get dumped into Bev’s stall. “Whatever, Y/N. I was only friends with you because of Henry, anyways.” Greta said, in a sickly-sweet voice. “Come on, girls.” She gestured for the other two to follow, which they did, and waved to you innocently. “Have fun with the losers, Y/N.” With that, they left.

“Hey, are you okay?” You asked, as Beverly walked out of the stall. “Yeah, thanks Y/N.” She said, looking at you cautiously. “It’s Beverly, right?” You asked, politely. “Yeah. Beverly Marsh. How’d you know?” She asked, confused. “I, unlike Greta, have the decency to learn people’s names.” You said, and you both laughed. “I have a feeling you and I are going to be great friends, Beverly Marsh.” You said, and she laughed. “Me too, Y/N Bowers.”

One Week Later

You ran downstairs, bidding your dad goodbye quickly, before he could give you a lecture on your brother’s disobedience, you left the house and grabbed your bike, getting away as soon as possible. Your dad wasn’t exactly fond of your brother, but he absolutely adored you. You never gave him much reason to scold you, always maintaining good grades, and doing as told. Unlike Henry, who struggled with instructions and preferred attending school for bullying, rather than actual work.

You biked to Beverly's house, waiting outside. You knew her dad wasn’t exactly fond of her friends, but he tolerated you. You were always very polite to him, and he was always on about how you were such a “good influence on his baby girl”, and how “those misbehaved boys” were not. It always made you a bit uncomfortable, since you’d never properly met the boys. This was why you waited outside.

Not 5 minutes later, Bev came bounding out of her house, running down the many flights of stairs and grabbing her bike. The two of you biked around town together, chatting about random topics, mostly how you were glad school was over. Bev suddenly lit up, her face showing excitement. “You haven’t met the Losers yet!” she exclaimed, out of nowhere. “The who?” You asked, confused. “My friends, come on! We’re meeting up at the quarry today, you should come!” She exclaimed, and you gulped. “I-I don’t know, Bev..” You said, nervously.

You both stopped your bikes, pulling over to talk a bit easier. “Why not? Don’t you wanna meet my friends?” She asked, a bit hurt. “No! I mean yes! It’s not that, Bev. It’s my brother.” You said, biting your lip nervously. “What? What about him?” She asked, curiously. “Everyone knows me as Y/N Bowers, Henry’s little sister. My brother probably bullies the crap out of them.” You stated, rolling your eyes at the thought. She stayed quiet, and you knew he did. “Exactly, Bev. It’s okay, you go ahead. I’ll be fine.” You faked a smile, trying to act happy. “Nice try, you’re coming anyways.” Bev decided, and you sighed. You weren’t going to win, and you knew it, so you simply followed her to the destination, nerves flooding your system.

You see, it wasn’t easy for you to make friends. Being the notorious Henry Bower’s little sister, made you an impossible target. Everyone thought you’d be like your brother, and never once gave you a chance. That’s why you were friends with Greta and her group. They knew you were popular around town, and if a Bowers was in her group, she’d be unstoppable. Now that she’d built up a reputation, it seemed she didn’t need you anymore. You were fine with that.

Much sooner than you would’ve liked, you arrived at the Quarry. Beverly’s friends, who apparently, were all guys, looked at you like you were crazy, and suddenly anger flashed in one of their eyes. You recognized him to be Richie Tozier. “What the fuck are you doing here?” He spat, and you flinched. “I-I, um, uh…” You stuttered, slowly backing away. “Chill, Richie, she’s with me.” Beverly said, grabbing your arm and pulling you with her. Frowning, you scanned the group. They all looked either pissed, or scared of you. “Bev, I told you this was a bad idea.” You whispered, and she shook her head. “You’re staying.” she instructed.

One of the taller boys came over, grabbing Beverly and pulling her off to the side. “How could you be friends with her, Bev? She’s Henry Bowers’ sister!” He whispered, angrily. He had curly hair. It took you a second to remember his name, Stanley Uris. He was one of the smartest kids in your grade. The smallest boy fumbled with something in his.. Fanny pack? He whipped out an inhaler, taking a big breath from it. “Are you alright?” You asked him, and he flinched at your voice. “Fine.” He said, his voice small. He jumped behind Richie, who glared at you fiercely.

“What do you want, Bowers?” Richie said, pushing past an arguing Beverly and stood right in front of you. “She’s probably just here to bully us, just like your brother. We don’t want you here, Y/N. Go home to your fake friends and your fucking dumbass idiot brother, and bother someone else, bitch.” He spat, and the group gasped. Richie was known to be blunt, but this was straight up rude. You were sick of it, but you weren’t going to fight. A tear slipped down your face, knowing most of what he said was the brutal truth.

Not many people would be honest with you, ever, because they were scared if they’d hurt you, Henry would hurt them. You two were very close growing up, but you stopped talking to him altogether when he started bullying kids. You tried to stop him many times, but you were shooed away. Still, people failed to treat you like a person, because they were scared of the things he could do.

“You know, Richie. I admire you.” You said, smiling sadly. This took him completely by surprise, him even taking a step back. “What?” He asked, confused. Clearly everyone else was curious, too, as they all moved in closer. “Not many people would be brave enough to stand up to me, especially not people who my brother typically target.” You said, wiping a tear. “I admire your bravery and wit. I’m sorry for everything my brother put you,” You paused, looking around at the rest of the group. “all of you, through. I hate how he treats you all, you’re all such great people, and an amazing group of friends. I’m not gonna lie, I’m kinda jealous.” You finished. The group was silent, Bev coming and giving you a quick hug.

“W-well, Y/N, w-would y-you want t-to s-stay?” Bill stuttered, and you smiled. “It’s alright, I don’t want to intrude.” You insisted, going to grab your bike. “Wait! I’m sorry, don’t leave. I’ll let you push me into the water!” Richie shouted, and you turned around, eyebrows raised. “You want me to feel better about you being mean, or you too scared to jump in yourself?” You teased, and Eddie, Bev, and Ben all laughed. Bill and Stanley refrained themselves, but were smiling. “I like her!” Eddie exclaimed, excitedly. “Please stay!” He said, pulling a ‘puppy-dog’ face. “Okay. Who can say no to that face?!” You exclaimed, earning a chorus of laughter from the group and Eddie’s cheeks to heat up.

You quickly threw off your dress, leaving you in your undergarments. Beverly copied you, and you two silently agreed to jump together. The boys gawked, and you only laughed at them. You grabbed Bev’s hand, running off and jumping without hesitation. “Holy shit!” You heard Richie cry, and you laughed as you disappeared under the water. The boys followed suit, and you were all splashing each other and enjoying the warm summer day.

That day, you (as well as Bev and Ben) became official members of the Loser’s Club. You finally met your best friends, and you were a proud loser. As soon as Henry learned that you began to hang out with the losers, he immediately shut you out, not that you really minded. You spent most of your time out of your house, mostly with the losers. You had finally escaped your brother’s shadow, and you couldn’t have asked for a better group of friends.

[derryhawkins]

Growing Fame (1/??)

summary: A modern AU where the losers are semi-famous for different things, and when they all run into each other at a certain event, all of their fans go bat-shit crazy – wanting the seven to spend more time together. What they didn’t expect even more than that, though, was a well-known and mean journalist to write bad reviews on them all. Their growing fame could soon shrink, they quickly realized. warnings: nothing, really; swearing. pairings: not yet decided a/n: I am excited for this, not gonna lie. To sum up the reasont that they’re famous: Most of the losers are YouTubers. Stan, Eddie, and Bill are this funny famous trio who used to be on Vine. Bev is a make up/FX artist. Mike is a singer on YouTube who’s slowly getting famous. Richie’s in a band. & Ben makes educational history vids with the occasional blog of him & Mike together bc they’re bffs. Hope you guys enjoy!! 

oh & this is like 2.4k words, so beware bc its a bit long.

CH 1 | CH 2 | CH 3

Day Off

Mike Hanlon laid on the couch in his apartment – head propped up by cushion, a guitar on his stomach, clothes mismatched from being lazy, and his golden retriever laying beside the couch while the black cat was curled between his feet. He strummed the guitar and hummed a tune of one of his songs with his eyes closed. He was simply relaxing, enjoying the time by himself with his two lovely pets. He could faintly hear his friend in the guest bedroom, an occasional yell being heard that made Mike halt his strumming for a short second before starting again. The dark skinned male had no idea what his friend was doing but he didn’t matter. He had a day off.

A day off from working his ass off to get his EP done for his fans – a surprise for them, actually. Mike was a singer/song writer on YouTube who had just recently been signed a record label deal for the next five years. He had been working on the EP before, but now it’s basically officially official that it will all happen. The work was tiresome, surprisingly. He stood in a studio all day, singing his heart out, and it was fun, don’t worry, but he just couldn’t help but feel that he needed everything for it to be perfect. Besides, he needed one more song plus the name for the EP and he had no idea what to do for those two things.

He was in a writing slump and all the names for EP he came up with sounded idiotic. But he had to admit that this all beat working at the family farm. He loved it there, too; he loved all the animals and spending time with family. But he also loved music, and once his grandfather agreed that Mike could give the music career a go, he was ecstatic.

Mike halted his strumming and humming once again as the guest bed room flung open. His eyes opened as well when the sound of footsteps were heard to be coming closer, and as Sandy the golden retriever lifted her head. Not too soon later, Ben Hanscom stood in the living room with a fowl expression and crossed arms. It was rare to see Ben so upset at somethings, so Mike quickly sat up.

Ben and Mike had been friends ever since they started college together a couple years ago. At the time, Mike was working on becoming an engineer with the side job of music - just playing at little venues to get the money with the occasional video up on YouTube just like he had done in high school. But once his videos got more popular and as he realized that music could be his career, he focused more on the music. Still, though, he was working on a minor in engineering with a major for general studies. It wasn’t too much to handle.

Ben had become Mike’s roommate. He was in love, and still is, with history. All his life he had been fascinated by it, and he was glad to know Mike didn’t find it annoying; the boy actually agreed. At some point in time he started putting up videos explaining history and doing little cartoons along with it; the first video got pretty popular pretty quickly, surprising both boys, and now two years later Ben has a contract with a company that pays him. He posts explanatory and educational videos of history. He also has a vlog, just posting there once in a while when there’s a longer time period in between videos.

So, the two boys knew each other pretty well. After two years of dealing with each other, becoming close friends, and slowly rising to popularity together, both of them noticed what made the other tick. What made them annoyed, or happy, or scared, or angry. So Mike Hanlon was pretty quick to pick up on Ben Hanscom’s annoyance.

“Dude, everything okay?” Mike asked carefully, making sure not to accidentally kick Salem (yes he named the cat after the black cat from Sabrina the Teenage Witch, okay?) as he moved his legs. Salem was quick to leave.

“We need to go to comic con this year.”

Mike stared for a moment before cracking a smile. “Is that why you’re pissed?” He asked.

“Mike, we missed last year, okay? We can’t miss two years in a row! I need to dress up as Star Lord at least once in my life without getting weird looks and to geek over Game of Throwns with other people.”

“I geek about it.”

“You complain about the nudity.”

“Well, I watch the show for the action; not the sex scenes!”

For a few seconds the two twenty year olds were quiet, staring at one another, waiting to see if the conversation was going to turn into a debate that they usually had when Game of Throwns was brought up. Was there too much nudity in the show? Mike often with yes, most of the time, while Ben said it was fine; they once got in an argument about it in a public place and the looks they got made them regret having being so loud about it.

Thankfully, though, neither boy continued on with the subject. Ben uncrossed his arms and shrugged as he said, “Anyway, we’re going to comic con.”

“Alright, fine. Need me to buy the tickets?”

“Ah, no, I have the money. Thanks for offering, though, Mike,” Ben told him.

The taller boy gave a smile and nodded. “Welcome, B.”

“Hey, guys, I have a day off from school and work and editing videos, so here I am doing a live stream! With Stan and Bill!”

“I was forced into this,” Stanley Uris’ voice sounded as he situated himself in front of the propped up phone. He gave a small glare to Eddie Kaspbrak but at seeing the smaller boy smile innocently at him, he rolled eyes and smiled back. “It’s barely started and I already regret this.”

“Aw S-Stan, it won’t even last th-thuh-thirty minutes,” Bill Denbrough said. He refrained from making a face as he stuttered; most of the time he didn’t now a days, but once in a while it would pop up. Stan glanced over at him and shrugged. He had already sat down on the other side of Eddie, one arm thrown around the back of Eddie’s chair and the other in his lap as he held his phone.

The three boys were known for goofing off in front of the camera together on YouTube. It used to be Vines, once upon a time. Bill and Eddie started out there and soon Stan joined and they had both separate accounts and a joint account where they would constantly make stupid yet funny videos together. They got pretty famous, too, so once Vine ceased to exist, they moved on YouTube. Still stupid but funny. Once in a while ranting videos. An occasional vlog here and there. Then the rare live stream, something Eddie decided to do today.

“Anyway, we are here to answer some questions!” Eddie exclaimed, clapping his hands together and giving a smile. “So ask away.”

Bill leaned forward to read one of the many comments.  “ ‘BILL’,” he paused and laughed at the fact that his name was in all caps, “ ‘What’s is like living with Stan and Eddie?’ Oh, wow- o-okay. Not that bad, actually. They’re both nice and neat people. I’m the messy one, they clean up after me a lot.”

“No one likes your dirty socks under the couch, William,” Stan informed him with a teasing attitude. Bill flipped him off but they all laughed.

“ ‘When will Bill’s book be done’?” Stan read the next question. He then turned to look at Bill, who gave a shrug and a nod. Stan nodded back before answering. “Sometime in November! We’re excited about it. Bill won’t let us read it until then, so we’ve been stuck to waiting with you guys.”

“It’s a surprise, idiots,” the tallest male explained.

They then went on and answered more questions. Are you guys going to comic con in 2 weeks? The answer was an enthusiastic yes from all three boys. When will we get another video of Stan with the birds? Stan had answered sometime soon, when the raining whether outside was sunshine instead. Then they got questions about the different types of birds and Stan grinned the entire time answering the ones he could. Then Eddie answered one about how his nursing major was going; despite being popular in the media, Eddie still went to school.

They all did. He didn’t want to be left in the dust, having to work random jobs, when they decide to stop making videos, so he decided nursing would do just fine. Bill majored in English and constantly had papers to write, but still somehow found time to write his upcoming book and make videos with his two friends, even sometimes his little brother, Georgie, back at home. Stan decided to just do general studies but then also decided to minor in World Religions. Between all of that, he also had a wide knowledge of birds.

“ ‘Favorite bands’?” Eddie read one of the comments after complaining about his lack of sleep. “Imagine Dragons,” he quickly answered.

“The Records,” Bill said at the same time, excitement evident on his features and in his voice.

“Who the fuck are The Records?” Stan asked.

Eddie pointed at their Jewish friend, “I’m with Stan on this one.”

Bill grinned. “Remember that guy I told you about who made dick jokes and your mom jokes a lot at my high school?”

“Oh, no,” Eddie groaned with a grimace on his face.

Stanley frowned and rolled his eyes. “Your best friend until you came here?”

“He’s still my best friend! I’m bitter that you guys haven’t met him yet, but he’s in a band called The Records. He’s the lead singer, too, and they’re good. They got a record deal last year and they’ve been getting more popular since.”

“Huh,” came from both Eddie and Stan.

“Maybe I’ll give them a listen,” Stan muttered.

“He sounds annoying from all the things you’ve told us about it. But good for his band, I guess,” Eddie said. He glanced at his phone and chuckled at one of the comments. My aesthetic: Bill gushing about his friends and promoting them. He read it out loud, which just caused everyone to laugh and agree with the fan.

Shortly after, the livestream on Instagram ended and three boys piled out of the apartment and went to dinner.

Richie Tozier was grinning from ear to ear by the end of the live stream that had his best friend in it - the best friend that wasn’t Beverly Marsh, of course. He laughed slightly and laid across his bed. It was no secret that Richie watched every livestream, YouTube video, vlog, or whatever that Bill Denbrough was in; they were best friends in high school and supported each other then. He wasn’t going to stop supporting the guy now just because they lived in different cities.

(And, no, he wasn’t watching the smaller boy’s videos daily; just the one’s with Bill. He didn’t follow Eddie Kaspbrak on all social media platforms, either, no he did not).

(Fucking liar).

Richie went to the message app and sent Bill a text.

to Big Bill: aw bill u sure ur not in love with me???

He got a quick response.

from Big Bill: i’m in love with chicken wings, rich, how many times do we have to discuss this

to Big Bill: until the die I day to Big Bill: wait to Big Bill: until the day I die!

from Big Bill: fucking hell

Richie laughed and exited out of the app. He was about to go onto Twitter, to see if there was any drama regarding anything interesting, when his door flung open to reveal his redheaded best friend standing there with a pissed off expression. Richie raised an eyebrow. She should be on a date; he should be having the rest of the day to himself. He quickly sat up and rolled off of his bed and walked over to Beverly.

“Bev, what happened?” He asked. He could slowly feel himself getting pissed at whatever the situation was.

Beverly Marsh was like his sister and damned be any girl or guy who hurt her feelings. They met a year ago, outside of the a club after being kicked out for being underage. Ever since then, they’ve been inseparable. They got an apartment together not even three months after knowing each other; that’s how well they got along. Of course, though, they got into their little quarrels and fights but not once did they say they hated the other or that they wanted to move out. There was like an unspoken agreement to never say those words.

“Do I need to fight her? I will, just say the word!”

Beverly rolled her eyes yet there was a tiny smile on her lips that soon vanished as quick as it came. The scowl was back and Richie could faintly see tears building up in her eyes. “She didn’t fucking show,” she seethed out finally. “I mean, last time she had actually came and gave an explanation before leaving right after. But this time she fucking- I sat there for nearly two hours! It was humiliating, Rich.”

Richie sighed and extended his arms. “Do you need a hug?”

“No,” Bev shook her head. But she glanced up and slouched her shoulders at seeing the look on Richie’s face. “Fine,” she sighed. She was then instantly pulled into a bone crushing hug by the lead singer of The Records. She didn’t hesitate to hug back. “I’m going to go plan out my next make up video later. Can I do yours again sometime soon?”

“Sure can, Bev. Oh, and guess what I got tickets for today,” Richie told her. A smirk formed on his lips.

Beverly pulled away from the hug and looked up at him after wiping under her eyes. She had blinked back most of the tears but still some leaked out.

“Dude, no way?” She asked, excited about it all even though Richie didn’t actually say the words. They have both been talking about it for days now, not knowing if they could actually get tickets.

“Yes way! Get your costume ready, Miss Marsh, because we’re going to comic con!”