Random starter (angst angst angst) for @tczier.

He didn't know why he was here. He had hardly known the guy, if he were being incredibly honest, even if he was married to his cousin. All he knew about him was that he had seemed incredibly high-strung throughout his life, and he wouldn't be surprised if the cause of death had been an and you rizzum. Stress. That had what it sounded like. Especially since when asking his parents how he died, his father had shrugged and said no one really knew.

The last funeral he had been at had been that of Barb Holland. He was glad that Barb had had a proper service, even if her 'manner of death' was completely falsified. Funerals just made him depressed. Especially when he felt he shouldn't be there. He felt that his parent had only decided that they should go in order to make appearances, act like they gave a fuck about anyone other than themselves. After all, when was the last time they had talked to Myra? She was a Harrington, but it was like she was the black sheep of the family.

And really, he supposed it made sense why his own parents had shunned her. She was nothing more than a cousin, that could easily be brushed off if not for the last name. Other than that, she looked like she didn't fit into the high class lifestyle that Richard and Leanne had set out for themselves. Even if she had lived in New York, which was where the funeral was currently taking place. Steve honestly just wanted to head into the city after this, get out of these stupid black funeral clothes.

His parents had gone to mingle after the service was over, Steve noticing a man sobbing not-so-quietly to himself near the front. He could tell that the other was trying to hold it in, holding his face in his hands, rubbing at his eyes beneath spectacles. Steve, always the type to help someone in need, walked up through the aisle and over to the other, who previously had been surrounded by some others he didn't recognize. Maybe they had wanted to give their friend some space.

He paused, awkwardly, debating if he should ask permission or just sit. He chose the latter, pulling out a blue handkerchief from his suit jacket pocket, holding it out to the other. "Here. You look like you might need this." Steve smiled softly. "I get it. Funerals are hard." Steve had lost a lot of people in his life, and not all of them had gotten a funeral. Most of them hadn't. "Did you, I mean....did you know him well? Edward, I mean." Stupid question, Steve, he wouldn't be sobbing if he hadn't.

@tczier continued from here.

"I feel like I should be asking you the same thing." Eddie deadpanned, staring at Richie - or more accurately, at the back of Richie, because the older had immediately turned around and getting caught. Eddie certainly wasn't an idiot, and though the younger of the two didn't really spend any of his free time jacking off, he knew that it was pretty commonplace for most men. Eddie simply struggled with hearing Sonia's voice in his head constantly, telling him how dirty of a boy he was, how his friends were going to abandon him if they ever knew. Even though he was sleeping with one of those friends on a fairly regular basis.

He yawned, stretching his arms above his head, revealing a sliver of skin underneath his t-shirt and above his pajama pants. He knew Richie always insisted on him wearing less to bed, but ever since the entire being left behind in a sewer thing, Eddie had hated being cold. He'd wear a damn parka to bed if his boyfriend would allow it. Rubbing at his tired eyes, he shook his head. "I was waiting for you." Soft, much sweeter than Eddie could come off, though he had been in a good mood most of that night. Richie had prepared dinner. Richie had been sweet. And Eddie was in love with him.

Which was what had him crossing the room, entering the small office space that Richie clearly was not using for work. At least not in that moment. Arms looped around the other's shoulders from behind, resting a chin atop the comedian's head, nuzzling his face into those dark curls. "You're an idiot, Rich, you know that?" His voice clearly exhausted, though Eddie also struggled severely with insomnia, so this was nothing new. "You don't have to like, hide that shit from me. It isn't like I haven't seen your dick a thousand times. Even times I didn't want to."

He laughed softly, spinning Richie's computer chair to face him now, the smaller man planting himself so Richie Tozier would now have a lapful of Eddie Kaspbrak, hands planted firmly on the other's chest as he gave him a rather stern look. "You could have just asked me, Richie." He finally stated, though his own negative self-worth was taking over and he was glaring at the computer like it had betrayed them both. "Unless, I mean...." Head tilted, eyebrows furrowed in curiosity. "Unless you didn't want me tonight or something."

@tczier liked for an Eddie starter

"I swear you exist just to give me headaches. At least slow down. Not everyone has ridiculously long legs like you." Not anymore. Not stuck in a damn wheelchair. "My arms can only go so fast."

@tczier is a fool, an enabler

"Richie Tozier, famous comedian, getting drinks with me," Mike said with fake awe. "Wait till I tell everyone back home." Not that he ever planned going back there.

@tczier liked this for a starter

In the early years when Derry was little more than an idea of a few weary settlers. IT had mapped out the area IT wished to inhabit, weaving threads of silk across the land until IT’s territory was firmly established. Every few cycles IT refreshed the lines, spinning and working until there wasn’t a single place in Derry IT didn’t have some form of access to. In the quiet of IT’s inner sanctum, IT laid IT’s many legs on each strand and listened to the town, picking IT’s prey from the whispers IT heard. Poor Eddie Corcoran, poor Betty Ripsom, poor poor Veronica Grogan. When the brats forced IT into early slumber, it was the twitching of the threads that woke IT up. Each of them thrumming with a note of violence and pain too tantalising to ignore.

Poor Adrian Mellon, beaten to a pulp and thrown over the side of the bridge for the audacious act of having a boyfriend in public. Such a crime could not exist in a town such as Derry, small minded and stupid, it was almost a matter of civic pride how much the other was abhorred. It was an attitude IT cultivated as IT did the steady outbursts of viciousness and cruelty that popped up within the boundaries. If they hurt and killed each other, half of IT’s work was already done. All IT had to do was sup on the meat, and Adrian Mellon had been a hearty meal. So rich and full of terror, pain and regret salted him well and with each bite, IT learnt more and more. How he’d never thought this would happen here. Not in the town he loved so much, not in this place where everything was going so well. What about Don? Was he okay? Was he still alive? What about the book he was writing? Who would finish it now?

The scent of those fears came to IT now as IT slowly trailed Richie through the town. Fear, shame, a kind of uneasy excitement. Interesting… In the time between IT’s summons and their arrival, IT had made an effort to learn what the losers’ club had been up to for all those years. Each was successful in their own right, rich and famous. None more so than Richie who seemed to have made a career out of what IT found so dreadfully irritating. His voice. For someone who had lived in such a big city and traveled all over, IT would have assumed he would have gotten over such a fear. The rest of the world was not Derry. Surely there would be somewhere he would feel comfortable to simply be?

Evidently not, being back here had only reignited those fears. IT had toyed with him briefly, claiming to know the secret that was only all too obvious to anything with a nose. Human scents were so primitively obvious it was a wonder they could hide anything from each other. Considering Richie’s disposition, IT wasn’t surprised when he slipped into a bar. Perhaps he thought such a place would repel IT. A good guess if not a foolish one. After all, what childhood monsters could stand up to the assured adulthood of a stiff drink?

But IT was a nightmare unlimited in IT’s scope. Children were easier but adults were just as tasty. For the longest time all IT had wanted was a good meal and IT’s long rest. The losers had introduced IT to a new concept entirely, a want for revenge. Perhaps IT would thank them after they were dead. It was a learning experience worth having.

IT followed him.

The bar was full, raucous laughter filled the air along with the stink of stale sweat and low level aggression. IT found within Itself a certain admiration for Richie in choosing such a place to bolt to. Among its many vices, Derry was a drinking town. Depressed by nature and deprived in others, there was little else for many to do but piss away their pay check and seethe at their misfortune. If only they could leave, if only things would change. They never would of course and it was that anger that fuelled the many acts that kept IT’s belly full. IT loved them as only IT could, like pigs IT had carefully and tenderly raised for slaughter. As IT picked IT’s way through the crowd, those who had enough sense to know IT in some small way shivered as IT passed, a hush settling in little pockets between the noise.

As for Richie, he seemed several drinks in. An almost empty glass set in front of him, his posture low so he was almost hunched over the bar. It was nothing for IT to force the bartender away with a simple command, the flexible mind snapping under the force of it. Now IT was directly in front of him and IT took the time to shift IT’s features, mimicking the human it had sent away.

“Don’t you think you should slow down a little, buddy?”

𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 （x）@tczier

Rose watched as Richie's expression shifted, guilt etching itself across his features. His words hung in the air, heavy with a mix of self-deprecation and a hint of defiance. She could sense the weight of his past actions, the burden he carried from years ago. It was clear that Richie had been grappling with his own demons, ones that had resurfaced in the face of their current predicament.

As she listened, Rose felt a mixture of empathy and frustration welling up within her. She understood the fear and uncertainty that gripped Richie, the desire to protect oneself amidst the chaos that surrounded them. But she also knew the strength that came from facing those fears head-on, from standing together against the darkness that threatened their existence.

The corners of Rose's mouth curved into a gentle yet determined smile as she stepped forward, meeting Richie's gaze with unwavering eyes. "Richie," she began, her voice calm yet laced with a touch of conviction. "I get it, I really do. The Doctor is... amazing. But sometimes he needs a hu- friend to help."

i said your name once. in bed. @tczier

He feels kind of like a fish out of water. His mouth is working but there's no sound coming out, his eyes go wide and his thoughts smash into each other with all the grace of train cars tumbling off the tracks. "Like- Like with someone?" He manages to sputter, only to realize the alternative might be worse.

If imagining Richie saying his name in bed with someone else has his entire world shifting on its axis, the thought of Richie doing it when he's alone might actually make his heart stop. He feels his face flush with color, tugging at the collar of his polo. It feels like he's suffocating all of a sudden, mouth dry and sweat beading on his forehead.

"I'm...sorry?" It's the only thing he can think to say in this situation. He can't imagine someone thinking about him while having sex. He especially can't picture Richie doing it. Though his mind certainly makes a valiant effort to try, eyes doing their best to stay glued to Richie's face and not roam the rest of him like a starved man eyeing his favorite meal.

@tczier liked for a starter from bev

Bev gave Richie a challenging look and smiled with a sly look on her face. She tilted her head to the side and poked him gently. "Alright. Let's see, I bet that I can beat you in an arm wrestle. The winner... gets anything of their choosing from the loser." She held up her arm and grinned at him.

Richie seemed to get out her more playful side with everything. She liked being able to challenge him to a couple of things. "Come on. You scared?"

💋

@tczier || x

Bill mumbled in his sleep, unconsciously turning towards the touch of lips against his bare skin. Waking the author managed to get to sleep waking him up was notoriously difficult. Richie, it seemed, had found a way that was pretty efficient and not nearly as painful as rolling him onto the floor.

Definitely much more enjoyable.

A few more kisses and he was forcing his eyes open while his hands found their way into dark hair. "Richie? What time s'it?" He asked, wondering how long the comedian might have been waiting for him to wake up before he had gotten too impatient.

❛ I know I look like road kill. ❜

EVIL DEAD (2013) SENTENCE STARTERS

What was it about visiting childhood haunts that left you feeling like a weirdly hollow shell of yourself? Eddie thought as the bell of the Derry Townhouse rang to signal his arrival, his paper bag of supplements from the pharmacy grasped in his almost-trembling hands as he headed towards the stairs. It had been a day, that was for sure, even if you didn't consider the fact that he had been given a quest of sorts from one of his best friends that he only fully remembered last night -- Finding a token from his childhood felt like some sort of weird party game that he was obligated to take part in.

A noise from the bar shook him from his thoughts and caused him to pause a moment, turning back towards the doorway in curiosity. It could only be one of his friends, seeing as they seemed to be the only people staying in this place.

His suspicions were confirmed when the bar turned out to be, once again, unmanned and eerily empty, save for the familiar face sat at one of the wooden tables with a drink in hand. Even though not all of Eddie's memories had come flooding back to him yet, he found himself wondering how on earth he could have forgotten Richie 'Trashmouth' Tozier.

"Shit, what happened?" he asked, Richie's words drawing attention to the fact that he didn't look, well... well. A fear gripped at Eddie's throat then, threatening him with a hundred different-yet-equally-terrible things that could have happened after just one day back in Derry. "Rich?"

' please. why don't you just let me go ? '

A smirk formed on the lanky noirette's face. He couldn't say he wasn't slightly amusined by Richie's words. "Jesus Tozier... You sound like I just I'm threatening to murder ya!" He spoke as a chuckle left his lips. Patrick was hard to read.. He always was... even now as an adult. His seafoam eyes shifted up to the other man's face as if studying him for a moment, before he spoke once more. "I'm not forcing ya to stay here, you can leave of ya wish..."

13 (transportation)

Steve had protested, at first, if only because he didn't want to be caught. That had never stopped him in the past, and in fact, there had been plenty of a time that he had been caught with his pants around his ankles by Hopper or any of the other police in their small town. Plenty of rendezvous' at Lover's Lake, his face buried between a girls legs, or legs interlocked while he thrusted passionately into her, steaming up the windows in what was considerably a very public place.

He wouldn't admit it, but that was what had led to him agreeing to this in the first place. Richie had targeted something that Steve hadn't felt within himself for years, not since his high school days of liking to rebel against his parents and show that he was not under their thumb. Steve Harrington absolutely had a public sex kink. And here Richie Tozier was, apparently insatiable and horny as hell, stating that they should just pull over and get it on on the side of the road.

Again, there had been protest. Keyword: had. Steve was grumpy, just wanted to get to their destination. He was tired of driving, and his ass cheeks felt like they were sticking to the leather of his BMW seats despite a layer of cloth protecting skin. His hands felt cramped, cracking his knuckles aimlessly whenever he had a chance to stop at a light or stop sign. But even Steve was a man who could only hold back so much, and Richie was rather tempting.

So here they were. Steve having bent Richie over as best he could - he hated that this man was taller than him, fuck this shit - in the backseat of his car. He hadn't gotten either of them fully undressed, knowing that anyone could drive by and report for public indecency. He had pulled Richie's pants around his ankles, his own not even fully off, simply having unzipped himself and pulled out his cock, kissing at Richie's shoulder blades, smirking slightly.

"Is this what you wanted, Rich? You want me to fuck you here where anyone can see you?" Steve wasn't used to talking too dirty, too much of a pure soul, but he knew that it turned the comedian on and so he did his best to fall into the role. "You were so horny for me that you couldn't wait to get to the hotel, is that it? Just need me to fuck you right here on the side of the road, huh?"

@tczier

if rubbing alcohol fixes outside boo boo, then drinking alcohol fixes inside boo boo. from @tczier

"Uh, actually..." Eddie gave him a rather stern look over the top of his own glass - water, because of course it was the healthiest option, unlike whatever crazy alcoholic concoction Richie was pursuing at that moment. He knew that the other was absolutely kidding - okay, well maybe not absolutely - but that didn't stop Edward Kaspbrak, king of risk analysis and all things illness, from going off on one of his tangents.

"The dangers of alcohol would make it the exact opposite. I mean, do you know how bad drinking that stuff consistently could be? I like a good drink here and there like anyone else, but c'mon Richie. Liver damage. Kidney failure. Cirrhosis. The list goes on and on. Actually, your insides would start to deteriorate and your entire body would end up collapsing in on itself, which I think is the exact fucking opposite of fixing an inside boo boo."

@tczier liked for a Bill starter

"So what's next for you? Continue being the wildly successful comedian? Or were you looking to slow down for a little bit? Everything considered."

⛄️  ─  build a snowman (for Ben)

Answered here! ❄️

They're a 10 but killed the loml

 send  [ THEY’RE A 10 BUT … ]  Accepting

"Haven't you ever heard of eliminating the competition, Richie?"