clownfeared

[clownfeared]

hey guys!!

this account is going to be low activity for a bit here, I’m going through school hell as well as medical hell - I have chronic illness issues and I’m disabled and my heart issues have taken a bad turn and I have a consultation for an ILR (implant heart monitor) so I don’t know if I’ll be on much until I get it figured out or until I’m not so overwhelmed with life:( when i have downtime Ill try to be on because this acct is a great calming outlit for me !! just wanted to say thts whats going on but ill try to be more active whenever I can ! i lov all of u thank u for supporting me and the local trash rat kid :,)

[clownfeared]

@yousssuck-bowers:

“No! No–no doctor, and you can’t tell anyone–”

The command came out harsher than he intended–perhaps out of desperation, but partially out of habit. He rubbed his eyes, sniffing and sitting up to pull his shirt down and hide the welts. His breathing was shallow, like moving too quick was actually a lot of effort. He fell silent, not looking up at Richie when he sat next to him, but not moving away either. As hard as it was to verbalize what he was going through, there was a small sliver of comfort in having someone express genuine concern.

“I just…no one can know, or it’ll be worse. No doctors, no cops, no nothin’. I just gotta…f-fuckin’ man up about it.” God, the words even tasted bad when he said them. He sounded like his old man. He flinched at the hand on his shoulder, but didn’t immediately pull away, much to his own surprise. It wasn’t because of pain either–he’d forgotten that touch didn’t have to be violent and angry. From Richie fuckin’ Tozier, of all people–his stomach swam with guilt and he felt sickened. Should he yell at him to scare him off, or try to mend a bridge he had torpedoed twenty times over? Henry wasn’t even sure.

“You don’t–don’t gotta, you–why the fuck are you here?”

It would be an insult if he didn’t sound legitimately confused.

“Shit, shit okay, okay..” He listened to the command with a slow breath, but definitely took the lack of Henry breaking his wrist as a signal that he wasn’t doing this absolutely gd awful at his comforting. This was a big worry for him, as he was definitely not known for how much access he had to his feelings and affections. 

“Well, I don’t think I’d say that, now I know you’re no chick but.. Damn, that looks like a bunch of baby fucking alligators just had the chance to go nuts on you. I’d be crying too, and we know how cool and brave I am...” He had to drop the subtle flex so he didn’t get too soft while talking to Henry damn Bowers. 

“I was walking around to clear my own head, but I guess I ended up clearing yours or, starting to?” He made a scrunched up face of thought as he stumbled over his words.

[clownfeared]

@avemvigilate:

okay, well, apparently he won’t be shaking richie on this one.  which means he almost definitely won’t be seeing the steller’s eider. he suppresses a sigh and nods, shrugging one shoulder.  ❛ i doubt any birds will wanna land on your bones, rich.  but alright, yeah.  come on. ❜

“Whoa, whoa, I never said my bone would be out, ya dirty man Stan.” He elbowed his friend, doing a little motion to signal how proud he was of himself for his own joke before asking for a high five from his poor, tired Stan.

[clownfeared]

@damned-losers:

Strong and fearless? H A ! Ritchie would never know how wrong he was. They’d all reeked of fear. Their only strengths seemed to be, regrettably, in one another. Perhaps if he’d directed the bulk of his effort towards their isolation, the Losers might have met their ends down in those dark tunnels.

H m p h .

A low, indignant rumble was his only response for a lengthy moment. Mere words rarely frustrated him yet Gray’s pride was already suffering. Being so blatantly dismissed only served to stoke It’s ugly temper.

Not at all above petty displays of annoyance, it was all too easy to rearrange the print on Ritchie’s chosen page to remark mockingly–          Fuckass?          BEEP BEEP Ritchie.          Save that for EDS.

He threw the paper to the ground away from him, practically hugging onto the back of the bench in a flurry of panic. After a few deep breaths, he stood up again, ripping the newspaper into multiple pieces, probably much to the horror of the poor people standing around him. 

“Maybe I will! Maybe I will.” He had started the sentence loud, but let his voice calm to a normal talking volume while he adjusts his coat with a cough. “Go find someone else to fuckin’ haunt, you honk-honk bastard..” He ended it with an uncomfortable whisper, looking around before starting to walk down the street.

[clownfeared]

@beverlymarshrogan​:

Costumes weren’t something Beverly could indulge in as a child due to financial status. So once she hit college and got a steady job as an intern, she was ready to finally dress up. After some thought, she decided to go as Poison Ivy. But before going out, she wanted to make sure she looked okay and not showing too much. So she invited Richie over to show each other their costume.

After some makeup adjustments, she finally came out of the bathroom. “Is this okay?”

Richie was excited to have the money to finally dress up and go out, even if the lack of candy was prevalent due to uh.. Him not being a full-blown child; as much as he acts like it. After multiple Halloween store hunts and pinterest ideas (Eddie mostly helped with that one), he landed on going as a zombie. Don’t diss him for his unoriginality, he thought it looked cool!

He was rubbing fake blood around the sides of his mouth when Beverly came out, blinking with a dumb grin. “Waka WAKA, Bev! You look like a sexy plant lady for sure!”

[clownfeared]

@beverlymarshrogan:

Chaos was a thing to be expected when you were friends with a kind such as Richie Tozier. But that didn’t bother her in the slightest; in fact, it amused her to push and push it as far as it could safely go. This situation was not one to be pushed, unfortunately. One wrong move and whatever brains her friend hadd would be smashed on the pavement.

“I’m a bit concerned as to how it seemed solid, but that’s not the point.” She calls as she climbs up Richie’s house in an attempt to help him down. “Just…try not to die before I get up there, I guess.”

“Ohhh, that request is playing a game with the devil, Bev.” He teetered a bit before lowering himself down to have his hands and feet on the roof, looking rather... Scared-cat-in-a-tree-like. 

“Just... Just fuckin’ get up here, will ya? My nose itches and I don’t wanna end up twinning arms with fuckin’ Eddie.” Richie complained with a whiney tone, throwing his head back dramatically.

[clownfeared]

@eddietrashmouth:

Eddie glanced at his friend, as he finally inhaled the air into his lungs. The boy could finally breathe again and his chest and lungs weren’t aching. “Why is it so damn hot?” He asked.

“I’d think I’d like to sit down, definitely.” He said before bursting out in fits of laughter, causing him to need to use his inhaler once again. Eddie went to sit down but ended up falling onto his butt. “Ow.” The asthmatic boy groaned.

“It’s cause I’m out here, Eddie Boy! Waka waka!” The jokester exclaimed as he sat next to him, giving a firm pat to his shoulder. 

“The sun and I are in a hotness contest, your mom was disqualified because she’s so hot it’d be cheating!” He pushes his glasses up his nose with a big, goofy grin.

[clownfeared]

@damned-losers:

“R i i i i i c h i e e e .” The voice was barely audible, easily mistaken for a trick of the wind. With the rains and the hottest part of the season in the past, Derry welcoming the blustery winds of Autumn was hardly anything to worry about. Humans were unobservant creatures even at the best of times. To them, Derry was old. Old enough for the town’s most sordid hurts to scar over, paling in comparison to the meager day-to-day frustrations of Derry-folk. So the General Store was out of eggs? J u s t the luck! Townsfolk complaining that thirty feet of plastic Paul looked both trashy and out of place? Check. That was what they knew–harmless drivel; the stuff of simpler times. Derry, Maine. Not a missing flier or a HAVE YOU SEEN– poster in sight. Though the lost ones never returned, six months seemed time enough to erase the recent past. Six months and not a single body! Children played freely without concern for a curfew that no longer existed.

Oh how he h a t e d it. A ravenous, broken thing awoken a mere six months after having his Deadlights t h r u s t into that endless starry void. Returning to a town he no longer felt. She’d been an extension of himself, after all. Learning in his absence that the cistern, the sewers, and a great deal of the unused pipe-ways had caved in; age, rust and the sudden vanishing of an unnatural presence giving way to simple gravity.

And that wasn’t the worst of it, oh no! Was he now not only displaced but the butt of some great cosmic joke? Is this what the Other had intended? For him to be sent back and then starved into submission? Too vexed to fight down rising nausea every time he crept after one of the little ones?

Though otherworldly, IT was no self-proclaimed intellectual, and yet it knew. This was their fault. The children–grown but still so familiar–remained. Pinpricks of light in this otherwise morose waste. He’d underestimated the Other’s preference for them once. Never again.  

“What the shit -!” Richie leaped from his seat, knowing full well hearing your name from no known source wasn’t all that uncommon for most people, but to him, oh to him it was a sign of danger. He looked around like a cat who just had his tail stepped on, breaths shaking as his paranoia eventually subsided. This sort of jumpy behavior is not what Eddie or the Loser’s taught him. No, no, no. He cleared his throat, hand pushing his hair back before adjusting his shirt and sitting back down. 

Richie promised the Loser’s he wouldn’t be scared anymore, and the man was determined to live and die by that. He wasn’t afraid of IT anymore, he had beaten IT when he was only a kid! C’mon, anything a group of children can beat is nothing to him now! Oh, what a comforting thought this was to him, to be strong and fearless like the rest of his friends. Unlike IT, Richie was a self proclaimed intellectual, though reality faltered with this, still he stuck by that. The pipe ways were gone, there was no longer any damp, cold spot for such an evil, vile creature to live in.

“If you’re there, you little shit,” He paused, lowering his voice in case anything but IT was listening, “You can shut that noise up right now. I’m not going to listen to you anymore, so just go back into the back of my fuckin’ head and stay there, fuckass.” He felt around next to him for the Daily Paper he had brought to the bench with him, aggressively opening it.

[clownfeared]

@eddietrashmouth:

“Fucking funny, Richie.” Eddie glared at his friend feigning a laugh. “N-no. I am not alright, Richie! It’s really hot, I’m having a fucking asthma attack and….” The polo shirt wearing boy started wheezing and pulling his inhaler out. He used the contraption, struggling for a few minutes before finding the strength to push the button.

“Whoa! Don’t waste your dyin’ fucking breaths yelling at me, trackshorts.” Richie put his hands in front of him with a roll of his eyes but makes sure to watch as he gets the inhaler air into his lungs. 

“We can sit down for a bit, I just can’t deal with you fainting right now, I have not been working out lately.” He huffs as he feigns an attempt to flex, almost making himself cough before motioning to the curb near where they were walking for him to recuperate and stop choking on his own lungs.

[clownfeared]

@yousssuck-bowers:

“Fuck off–”

He rounded on Richie like he was about to hit him before he stopped himself, as if some invisible force told him to push away those ugly, vile old behaviors. Ever since he came back from the sewer, he’s been a terrified mess, but he’s more aware now. Slightly. It didn’t help that things at home hadn’t changed. One wrong move and it was either a fist to the face or a leather belt across his back.

He curled back in on himself again and turned away from Richie. The sleeveless shirt he wore shifted upward enough to hint the welts on his lower back. He didn’t want him to see his face because try as he might, he just couldn’t stop the crying this time–

“M’fine. I just…don’t wanna be at home.”

He paused, wiping more blood from his lower lip and glancing back over his shoulder.

“Sorry.”

“Shit-!” The boy winced when the other rounded back on him, covering his face and lifting one leg to cover ye old family jewels from getting smashed in, but slowly peered over the forearm in front of his face when he didn’t feel his glasses break in two. 

“Fuckin’ A, do you need a gd damn doctor? That looks, bad...” His posture relaxed despite his face squinting up at the marks on his old bullies back, hesitantly moving to sit down next to him. He could hear the crying as it mixed with the sounds of crickets around them, meeting his eyes for a moment during the glance before resting his arms on his knees and his stare at his shoes. 

“Don’t apologize. Usually, I’d insist on an apology, but it.. Uh, doesn’t seem like you meant anything by it.” Richie runs his fingers through his hair with an awkward clear of this throat, his concentrated expression portraying that he’s truly trying his best to be comforting, mostly saying what he thinks he’d want to hear right now. “No one’s having a good fuckin’ run of it right now, you’re okay.” He moved to daintily pat his shoulder, hoping he didn’t touch anything painful.

[clownfeared]

@avemvigilate:

the crow of delight makes stan squint a little harder.  on the one hand, the company might be nice.  on the other…it’s richie.  who stan likes well enough, but who doesn’t really ever…stop.  talking.  ever.  ❛ i dunno, rich.  you’re loud, and it echoes down there.  you might scare it away, and i need to make sure i see it, really see it, y’know? ❜ it’s not a no.  it’s an…exploration.

“Ah, your faith in me is ever so strong.” He gave the comment with strong sarcasm but shrugs nonetheless. “I can be quiet! I’ll be such a fuckin’ fly on the wall, the birds will start landin’ on me!” Richie pushed to be able to come with, secretly now scared of having his front lawn tree topple onto him during his peaceful hammock sesh’.

[clownfeared]

@avemvigilate

❛ …that’s not how it works. ❜ he rolls his eyes at richie’s stupid nicknames and tilts back a little bit, eyes fixed somewhere else like stan’s trying to reset his brain.  it must work, because his eyes cut back to richie, hand coming up to the binoculars.  ❛ bird watching.  my dad said his friend told him about a steller’s eider he saw down by the quarry.  i was gonna see if it’s still hanging around. ❜

Richie didn’t seem to question his friends almost computer-like reset, but instead put his hands into his pockets and waited till he saw the whites of his eyes look back at him before he grinned again. “Bird watching! You always know just what to say.” He let out a dramatic sigh of sincerity, hands whipping from his pockets to cover his heart. “Staniel, you gotta let me come see that ‘Stella Elder ‘ whatever the fuck with you.” The boy excitedly invited himself with a confident adjustment of his glasses.

[clownfeared]

@damned-losers​

Six months previous…

For the second time in its ageless existence, IT stared up into the faces of lesser beings and knew fear. Ants! They were but a n t s by comparison, IT had shrieked. Against Its vastness–NOTHING! Mindless, meandering t h i n g s fit only to live and breed and DIE.

And yet the foot on Its chest seemed an impossible weight that all Its many limbs could not budge.

The Bitch’s forgotten fire poker had scored Its face, opening cracked flesh from jawbone to brow and bringing with it a half-world of darkness. And yet for all the pain and fear–for IT did fear the Losers–the quiet, creeping sensation on the edge of Its frazzled consciousness was infinitely worse. A pervasive disappointment that threatened to flatten what was left of Its physical form, insistently tugging upon the Deadlights, calling them home as IT died.

Beyond this, there was no pain. But neither was there any of the sensation IT had so grown to love–yes, love. There was no Turtle, thank the void, but IT was acutely aware of being cradled, lingering disappointment causing the Deadlights to shrink and cower. Despite the Other’s obviously preferential treatment of the human Losers, IT was offered a boon.  A second chance of sorts that was foolishly accepted without hesitation. The Earth was foul, yes, its creatures insignificant and impermanent…but filled with such EMOTION. Lust, love, guilt, fury, anger, sorrow, FEAR–the last of which was far too tantalizing a temptation to deny Itself.

Perhaps IT should have.   Perhaps IT should have wondered a great deal more after what the Other intended to accomplish in granting IT a second chance.

…Shit.

Richie was sitting on the bench outside his favorite candy shop, something nice that stayed consistent since he was young, but he hadn’t had the guts to go inside. The man was more than rattled, wayyyy more than rattled. His brain felt like it had been turned inside out and upside down, everything IT had made him see, made him experience...

“Ugh, shut the fuck up already.” He lightly hit himself on the side of the head with his lower palm, taking a deep breath through his nose and out through his mouth. 

“It’s over, right? So how about you get that through your-” Before he started to swear at himself, he took an even deeper breath and slouched into the bench, eyes closing with his hands on his knees to center himself while all the stress from his childhood dealing with IT swarmed in his head. Maybe he should enter the shop, chew some chocolate and hurt his cavities to distract from the other hurt coming directly from his brain. 

[clownfeared]

@yousssuck-bowers:

Shit. SHIT. Henry hadn’t expected anyone to be here. He didn’t think anyone to be out this late when the streetlights are already on and the back roads of Derry are empty.

He keeps his face covered with his hands as blood pours from his lower lip. There’s a wad of tissues in his palm that he’s using to mop up the blood. He slowly raises his head and gulps, scowling at the other boy and hoping it’s too dark for him to see that Henry’s been crying.

“W-why the fuck should I tell you that, asswipe?”

“Because this is supposed to be my moping around these shitty streets time - Jesus fuckin’ christ, what semi-truck smashed into your face?” He had been wandering at night to catch some air after his own disagreements at home when his parents had gone to bed, thankful for their heavy sleeping as he expected maybe a ghoul or a haunt but the last thing he expected was a crying Bowers. 

“That looks gross as shit,” Richie hesitates for a second before adding on, “Are, are you okay?” The words hitched in his throat, he didn’t exactly like offering kindness to Henry but he was aware he was trying to change - though, after being called asswipe, he understood change for Bowers takes awhile.

[clownfeared]

|| Starter Post !! Like this, i wanna make more au’s so those would be fun like + message if u wanna do smth like that or just like this for the trashmouth to rampage around derry w u! ||

[clownfeared]

@avemvigilate:

he squints a little against the sunshine, watching richie clamber his way out of the makeshift, borderline dangerous, hammock.  ❛ i guess that’s what you get for spending all summer in the arcade, huh? ❜ stan’s got a pair of binoculars around his neck, a book tucked up under his arm.  ❛ you should ask ben to help you fix that.  it looks like it’s gonna tear down that tree. ❜

“My skin gets the perfect amount of sun from the arcade lights, I’ll have you know.” He tucked his hands into his pants pockets with a defensive roll of his eyes. Finally, he looks back to his hammock. “Shit, you think hamburger helper could hamburger help fix this? He’d have to be a miracle worker to perfect perfection.” He grinned confidently but definitely could see why the hammock would need help, though he turned his attention back to Stan. “What’s with the book and long glasses?”

[clownfeared]

( starter call ) || @trackshorts

“One essay can’t be that hard, dude.” Richie teased while wandering behind him, poking at things on the shelves. He spoke pretty highly for someone who hasn’t done the summer essay and even higher for someone who didn’t plan to. 

“Just take your brain thoughts and make them, like, paper thoughts or some shit.” The Trashmouth in chief turned back to Eddie with an exaggerated hand movement. He was mostly supporting the essay writing process in hopes Eddie would go to the arcade with him after, which was a more than worthy cause in his mind. Maybe he could make that his essay thesis...