#Rolly Suitcase AU

[marie-dufresne]

@exsiliumductoris

Stepping out of the train station and into the city, Marie felt oddly out of place. It could have been because she was in the same outfit she’d been wearing for the past five or so months (when she was even wearing clothes. At some point it had become more practical to wrap up in a fur and leave it at that), worn down to practically threads by her standards, yet ballet flats that were practically brand new.

She had no makeup on to speak of (in public of all places) and was, despite her now tighter fitting clothing since being fed properly on a regular basis, also without a bra, the damned thing having split right into two halves and rendering itself useless.

At least she wouldn’t be recognized.

In the pocket of her jacket she had some money that Veld had given her and a piece of paper with a name and the number of someone who would get her a new identity and the proper paperwork to travel freely out of the country and into almost any of her choosing.

He owed Veld.

Make a good life for yourself, he’d told her before they parted.

Amidst the bustling of Prague she sighed, stepping out of the way and making herself small by a lamp post. She didn’t know what that meant.

What she did know was that she needed clothes and a hotel. Locating the shopping mall was simple. She practically had radar for the finer things in life and though she was eyed by the sales woman for her incredibly average appearance, Marie paid no mind, flipping over the tag of the dress she’d set out to purchase.

Her heart sank.

The dress alone cost almost half of what Veld had given her. There was no way she could provide herself with a new wardrobe here. With tears in her eyes, Marie dropped the tag and turned away, realizing how little she really knew about surviving on her own.

“You might try MY,” drawled the sales clerk, examining the diamonds on her fingers, “perhaps better suited for your….budget.”

Thanking her, Marie left the boutique, and, locating a directory, was pleased to find this ‘My’ was an anchor store and she wasn’t likely to get lost finding it.

The clothing selection, she found, was severely lacking in…well anything she cared for, really. But then again, she’d been living practically primitive for nearly half a year and had found herself quite happy in doing so, so purchasing a few bits of clothing she might have to share the style of the masses was not the most horrible thing she’d ever endured.

And to her surprise, they had everything. Undergarments, pajamas, hair accessories, makeup (bargain brand, but still), purses, shoes, and even a not-quite-awful and sort-of-formal-depending-on-her-hairstyle dress she might be able to wear should she choose to treat herself to a drink at a place more her scale.

She even found a new suitcase.

Leaving the mall she encountered a small tourist cart where she was able to pick up a few brochures and pamphlets in English and sought out a budget-friendly hotel. Family-friendly, it said. That was likely to be affordable enough without being questionable. She was right.

Feeling successful, she checked into the hotel and rolled her new suitcase containing her entire new life, into the little room and when she laid eyes on the shower, she let out a squeal and practically jumped from her clothes and underneath the running, hot water. Oh how such a simple pleasure was a luxury.

The towels and robe provided by the hotel may have been of moderate quality but to Marie, it was like entering the world again and when she flopped down on the bed, she smiled. Life could be good, if lived on her own terms.

She sat up, digging in her jacket pocket for the piece of paper Veld had given her, and scooted closer to the telephone, reading the name and numbers over and over again until she wasn’t reading them anymore, but simply…staring through the paper.

Mmm….maybe not tonight. She put the paper back in her pocket. Maybe she’d wait just…another day.

She didn’t sleep that night, the sounds of the city ringing through her ears and thundering in her head. They were loud, obnoxious, unnatural noises she’d forgotten about. Here there was no crackling of a dying evening fire, and no steady heartbeat of another person. It was screeching and yelling and music and she was overly aware of all of it.

The next morning, though she’d had little sleep, she was determined to have a good day. It was the last day she’d spend in Prague, she decided, and while she was there, she might as well do some touristing.

She had breakfast at a cafe, walked some fashionable streets, and when she found the library, she decided to see what they might offer by means of nearby attractions. There was a sign in the lobby she couldn’t quite read, but she recognized the wifi logo and the currency, and the image of a clock.

Maybe…just for a few moments she could rent some time on a computer. There was something she was curious about. Into the search engine went her name.

Gossip blogs had plenty to say about her death. None of it good, of course, but she brushed those aside, looking for an actual news article and found exactly one.

One.

“…where Californian heiress fell victim to the brutality of Czech mountain terrain. Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Dufresne have refused to speak about the loss and wish to mourn in peace. No services will be held.”

She hadn’t even been named.

Angrily she clicked away, returning to the search and typing out Harold Davenport. Pages of articles of the great tragedy that befell the ‘philanthropist’ and ‘business guru’ assaulted her eyes and had she been one to make more a scene, she might have thrown the monitor from the table. Instead, she clicked out of everything and with angry tears in her eyes, stormed silently from the library.

Even in death she meant nothing to anyone.

On the steps of the library she sat off to the side, tucking her face into her knees and sobbed. The benefit of city folk was that they were city folk and had better things to do than bother with someone who may or may not be crying and she was left alone.

When she was calm enough to stand, she walked aimlessly, not knowing what exactly to do anymore. She’d lost interest in being a tourist. She needed to decide where to go from here. London and Paris were too obvious. She had too many connections in both places. Anywhere in the United States put her too close to Arthur.

Australia? New Zealand?

No, too many creepy crawlies that were beyond the appropriate size. Tahiti was a nice idea. It was her favourite place in the world, after all, but it was expensive and she wasn’t exactly equipped with the capital to set up residence there. It would be a great place to establish herself as a photographer though.

She sighed. But she didn’t have her camera. It was at the bottom of Veld’s boar pit. She wondered if it had survived. It was in its protective bag, inside of the suitcase. Well, it didn’t matter now. Still, she wondered if he’d look through her things. If he’d look at her photos. There were some of herself on that card, she remembered.

She wondered if he’d miss her. She grunted. “Probably not,” she whispered to herself as she walked, “useless burden.”

There was a pang in her heart as she thought about not being cared for by yet another person, but this pang was small and dull, as if she’d made it up to torment herself.  The greater pain came with remembering he wasn’t next to her in the bed when she’d tried to sleep.

Get over it, get over it.

Of course they’d grown close. Of course they’d grown intimate. Two people cooped up in a cabin for five months were bound to have sex eventually. That’s just how the world worked. It didn’t mean it meant anything.

Well, it had meant something to her. She wouldn’t deny it. She’d hold those memories close to her heart. She’d allowed him in. She’d chosen him, even if, admittedly, the options were limited, she had genuinely wanted him and he hadn’t paid a single penny for her.

She stopped at a deli for something in between lunch and dinner, a hot sandwich loaded with more meat than she’d ever been allowed outside the cabin before, having acquired the taste for it and finding herself craving it now.

Back in her hotel, she took to the complimentary pad of paper and pen, trying to decide where she might decide to live. Singapore was an enticing option, but like Paris and London, she knew far too many people who frequented the area and the circles of the rich and powerful were small. Crossing someone’s path was inevitable.

Both Ireland and Scotland were possibilities. There wasn’t anyone in either of those countries large enough for Arthur to deal with and they were English speaking lands. That was a plus. She thought some more, tapping the pen against the little desk in the room. Both of those options were a little…chilly for her tastes.

“Scotland, Ireland…Germa…no….Greeeeece?”

She put a question mark next to that one, then promptly scribbled it out. Lamb was too high on their list of favourite meats.

“Oh! Spain!”

She’d been to Spain several times and enjoyed the climate, the food, the people, and they were lovers of the arts. Almost too cultured for her family, truthfully, and it had only ever been a place clients had taken her to on their holidays. She favored Barcelona.

The Spanish were a passionate bunch too. Not that she wanted to take advantage of men exactly, but she didn’t see the harm in securing a temporary boyfriend for temporary lodgings while she got on her feet. She would even be honest about her reason for being in the city. A photographer making a name for herself—

She frowned. It would be hard to claim to be a photographer without equipment. She didn’t have money for all the equipment she needed. She didn’t even have money for the sort of camera she preferred and that was…one thing she simply wouldn’t budge on.

Sighing, her hand found her hair and she rested her elbow on the desk. Stupid money. If only there were some way to…

Her eyes fell on the little black dress hanging up on the back of the hotel door. She knew where the swankiest hotels were, and the lofty bars that sat below the rooms the visitors kept.

That evening found her at the bar, dressed and made up to entice, nursing a glass of white wine, her cheap lipstick leaving a kiss on the rim of her glass.  A man sat down beside her but she paid him no mind. They would come to her. They always had. Whether they left putting koruny in her purse or not was entirely up to them.

“You’re new.”

With no one else at the bar top, Marie turned, knowing she’d been addressed.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re new,” the man repeated, all knowing eyes and thick accent, “to this bar.”

“It’s a hotel,” she pointed out, “everyone is new.”

“Maybe this is true, yes, but you are working.”

Irritation rose up in her chest then. Was she so obvious? “I am waiting for someone,” she clarified instead.

The man chuckled. “Ah. Yes. I’m sure you are waiting for many someones. But here now, is only me.”

With slightly narrowed eyes, she studied him. Early ffities by the looks of it, well groomed, sporting a rolex and tailored suit; he had money. Then again, so did almost everyone else coming through the doors of this hotel. Everyone except her.

“You seem to think you know a lot about me,” she replied, taking a sip of her wine and fully intending to ignore him.

“Mmm,” he hummed, “maybe I assume but only a working girl who is new here would sit at this bar in costume jewelry and a hmmmm….” he waved his hand in the air a bit, calculating the currency in his head, “…sixty dollar dress.”

Well.

He had here there.

Now the question was: did he believe her cheap attire was a reflection of her skills? Did he think her out of her element and would be be unwilling to pay?

“Well,” she cooed, leaning over to him, “I don’t see the point in spending all my money on a dress that is going to spend the night on the floor.”

Her glass was at her lips again. “Besides, men usually don’t notice these sorts of things.”

“Ah.” He motioned for the bartender to bring her another glass. “Maybe not the boys you played with in…America, is it? Boston maybe. They will not know any better. But here in Prague…men, we know.”

She didn’t know what in her face changed, but he picked up on it, quirking a brow and giving her a smirk.

“You do know men,” he noted softly, “and yet here you are.”

Accepting the new glass, she straightened her back, looking over the rim through her lashes. She wasn’t accustomed to being read so easily by strangers and she was willing to admit her pride was hurt. She had been good at what she did, as involuntary as it had been.

“I took some time off,” she replied, lips turning up softly, “not by choice.”

The man beside her tended to his own drink for a moment, before his hand found her thigh and he leaned over.

“You will come with me and if I am satisfied, I will give you ten thousand dollars.”

Marie’s eyes flicked to the side, then down to his hand. His drink hit the bar top, thumb and forefinger snapping up to take hold of her chin, forcing her to look at him.

“And you will return tomorrow looking like a woman who can afford to sit at my brother’s bar.”

These words were colder now, almost threatening and he squeezed, though not hard enough to bruise. “The fee to do business here is thirty percent.”

Marie nodded and for a month, she returned to what she knew. There was money to be made in the escort business, particularly when the fee was paid directly to her and not her father.

After a month, she met a trust fund baby on vacation with a bunch of his buddies. She didn’t care for orgies, but they were her age and not nearly smart enough to keep their money in their pockets. Easy targets. The whole weekend ended in one of them setting her up in a penthouse flat as he cancelled his return trip home, opting instead to stay in Prague with her, living the high life.

While she’d taken the name ‘Poppy’ for work, this boy toy of hers had opted instead to call her ‘Puppy’, a pouty little pet name he held for her when he wanted to get his way.

Marie had not touched the money Veld had given her. It didn’t seem right to spend it. This was not the ‘good life’ he’d meant for her to make for herself, and guilt ate at her whenever she thought about him. She had more money than she’d ever need. Both in cash and jewelry. Her boyfriend had bought her a luxury car she couldn’t drive. That alone could buy her a pleasant country cottage if she sold it.

She wasn’t pleased with herself. She wasn’t even particularly enjoying her life. As she nursed her sore cheek outside on the balcony, even that was a generous assessment.

She hated herself.

She’d found what she knew, what she was comfortable with, and like a coward had crawled back into its toxic embrace—a life of distraction, of pretending.

Her boyfriend didn’t love her. She didn’t even think he liked her all that much. He liked her body and he liked what she could do with it. He liked how powerful he felt when jealous stares of his peers followed him when she was on his arm, and he liked the power he had over her when he was putting her in her place. But her? No, she didn’t think he liked her. She’d asked him once if he would hold her hair back if she was sick. She didn’t know why she asked. The mood had soured immediately and he reminded her the rug was new and if she vomited on it, he’d rub her face in it so she’d know what she’d done.

Just like a puppy.

Rubbing at her cheek gingerly, she stood, palms flat on the marble railing as she overlooked the city. She’d asked to meet his family and he hit her.

She wasn’t his girlfriend, he’d sneered, she was his whore. Up until tonight, she hadn’t known he had a fiancee in London. Up until tonight, she had thought he was a reckless party boy with a bit of a temper.

He’d never called her a whore before. Not just ‘a’ whore, but his whore. He wasn’t name calling; he was stating the facts of their arrangement.

He was passed out in the bedroom now. The sun was flirting with the horizon and Marie looked directly to the street below, lifting one foot onto one of the little bistro chairs set up there. No one would have to see her. Someone would find her, but…there was no one about right now. If she jumped, no one would witness her death. No one would be traumatized. It was the least selfish thing she could do.

With her second leg up on the chair, she brought her knees up onto the stone and took a deep breath. With a sharp inhale, she looked up, taking in the view, pausing for a moment and savoring one last look. The bridges and beyond them, the shadow of the mountains. Was one of those mountains Veld’s mountain? Probably not. They were too close.

Her chin wobbled and she ducked her chin into her chest.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, teetering where she knelt. He would have been disappointed in her. She didn’t imagine he’d look too favorably on rich girl suicide. He hadn’t been impressed with her drug addiction.

He’d held her hair back for her when she vomited. He’d cared for her as she detoxed. He nursed her back to health, a perfect stranger who had barrelled into his peaceful life.

She wobbled a bit at the memory, yelping and throwing herself back, back onto the balcony, back to safety. The chair clanged against the table as she fell and when she realized just what she’d almost done, she choked on her own guilt, sobbing onto the slate beneath her.

By the time the sun rose above the horizon, she was just picking herself up, throat raw and eyes swollen. Her arms and legs shook and she found that she couldn’t look down onto the street without the feeling of falling assaulting her.

As she stepped back into the penthouse, a new sense of clarity overcame her.

She wasn’t stuck. She wasn’t as trapped in this lifestyle as she pretended to be.

After a shower, she cleaned the apartment of all liquid assets she could fit in her purse and, cutting her credit card and fake identification card in half, she tossed them onto the bedside table beside the unconscious leech on society, and left.

She spent the earlier hours of the morning in a cafe, fueling herself and making a list of necessities. She bought a train ticket, and when the shops opened, she bought what she would need. She was on a mission. Whether it was clarity or mania was still yet to be seen and on the train, ‘out of sight, out of mind’, came into play. Her guilt and self loathing began to melt into excitement.

At the train station, a taxi took her to the small mountain village and for a little (lot) more than his fee, continued up the narrow mountain road until it became almost impossible to drive any further. This was fine.

She was sure the taxi driver thought she was insane as she hauled her much heavier duty suitcase, military grade duffle, and all season backpack out from his trunk but returned down the mountain without her after her insistence.

Traveling wasn’t much easier than it had been the first time almost a year ago, but knowing where she was going this time kept her motivated.

Her far more practical footwear helped immensely.

When finally Veld’s cabin came into view, she found muscles and speed she hadn’t previously been able to access, and several yards from the dwelling, abandoned her luggage, hastily throwing the backpack from her back as she sprinted forward, calling out his name.

Would he be happy to see her? God she hoped so. She felt that he might. Her months with him up here in this cabin had felt so real, so genuine.

Her new leather boots thudded up the few steps to the door and she froze before she could even knock, his name dying on her lips.

It was entirely boarded up. The door, the windows. In fact, it was so oddly still, there was no mistaking the lack of life in the tiny house that had held so much of it this past winter.

“…no….” She shook her head, backing away, eyes darting all over, “No!”

With her tiny fists, she pounded on the door, screaming for him. It couldn’t go like this. He couldn’t just be gone. It…it wasn’t fair.

Dropping to the porch, she cried into the wood of the door. She shouldn’t have left. She’d made the wrong choice, continued to make poor choices, and now she was paying the price for it.  

If she had just…stayed.

[mere-mortifer]

Valentine’s Day Exchange  🎈 Masterlist

Thank you to everyone who took part in the exchange! Some works are still being updated, and others will be posted in the next few days, but I didn’t want to post this too long after Valentine’s day itself. 

❧  Ships: 

Richie Tozier/Eddie Kaspbrak

Richie Tozier/Stanley Uris

Richie Tozier/Mike Hanlon

Mike Hanlon/Stanley Uris

Stanely Uris/Bill Denbrough

Bill Denbrough/Ben Hanscom

Beverly Marsh/Stanley Uris/Richie Tozier 

🎈 Ao3 collection 🎈 | Links and summaries after the cut! 

Richie Tozier/Eddie Kaspbrak

❧  by @illwriteyouatragedy

1. cherry cordial | E | 1/1 He’s staring down hard at his phone, scrolling aimlessly through Facebook without reading anything, when someone bumps into him. Whoever it is grabs the pole, their hands brushing against each other’s. Right in his ear, the guy says, “Fucking shit, you’re hot.” Eddie’s head jerks up, startled, and he meets the bright blue eyes of a man at least eight inches taller than him. The guy’s got a pink knit cap tugged down over his head and a spill of curls falling down from it, his glasses fogging up in the warmth of the train car. “What?” Eddie demands.

2. dark chocolate strawberries | T | 1/1 The way Eddie's looking at Stan— Richie’s been on the receiving end of enough of Eddie’s playfully-mad looks to know this isn’t one of them. His heart starts pounding again. He has to be overthinking things. There’s no fucking way he’s not. After all this time, how could he not be, since— Well. Then again, what the fuck does he have to lose? Maybe it’s the boxed wine talking, or the fact that his ability to keep in his own secret is hanging on by a fucking thread, or the way Eddie truly seems pissed that other people are kissing Richie like this, but— Regardless. Regardless, Richie wants to keep testing this theory.

❧ We reconnected by @kaspbrak-tozier-reddie | T | 1/1 Eddie had unexpectedly arranged a date for valentine's day with a guy who he had met online just to get over his nemesis, Richie. Richie owns a tattoo parlour right by Eddie's innocent flower shop but with Richie's loud music, Eddie is at a constant battle to keep his customers in the shop rather them leaving.

No matter how obnoxious and frustrating Richie is, Eddie can't help but wonder if the boy he knew before high school is still in there. Especially when he loses a fight with his store gate and Richie patches him up. If only Eddie could love his online friend as much as he loves Richie.

❧ You Don’t Even Like Boys by @tinyangryeddie | E | 1/1 The sign for the event looks significantly different than the invitation. “A Valentine’s dance?” Eddie squeaks at him, grinding his rolly suitcase to a halt. Sure enough, a loopy red cursive “after-auction Valentine’s Day dance” accompanies the ridiculous imagery. Richie wants to laugh - or maybe cry - it’s hard to tell the difference with Eddie staring at him like he personally assigned the theme and bought the tacky heart-shaped balloons to pile into the lobby. “I didn’t… know,” is all Richie can come up with.

❧ One for the money, two for the show by @mere-mortifer-writing | E | 1/3 Richie's not sure if he's about to get punched or something more pleasant, and as he's placing a bet with himself on which option is more likely, the stranger surges up to close the distance between them, and suddenly they're kissing. Or: Richie is a famous actor, and Eddie a college student who has never hear of him before. When they get papped arguing in public about a bad parking job, the media spins to story to make Richie seem like an homophobic asshole-nevermind that Eddie and him were already making out minutes after the photos were taken. There's one obvious way to clear Richie's name: pretend that Eddie and him had been dating all along.

❧ Sweet Like Sugar Venom by @sippingonsouthernrains | M | 1/1 Being Eddie’s sugar baby was nice. Being Richie’s was fun. Being both? Fucking exhausting. Or, the thrilling tale of one Stanley Uris acting as the human-embodiment of an eye roll as Richie and Eddie claim to compete for his affections. Of course, Stan recognizes that they’re only competing for each other’s affections, and it takes about two minutes for him to get completely tired of being in the middle of it.

❧ It’s not gay if you’re practicing to kiss girls! by @space-is-out-there | G | 1/1 Richie gets the losers invited to one of the biggest parties of the year! They’re prepared for booze, music, and lots of spin the bottle. The only issue? Eddie and Richie have never kissed anyone before and wouldn’t know where to start! Haha... unless 😳

❧ little pieces of nothing that fall by @spunknbite | E | 1/1 Eddie shook his head, lips quirking upwards in a confused half-smile that Richie was immediately drawn to. “You seem stupid familiar,” he said with a laugh. “I don’t think we know each other,” Richie replied, then added, like the moron he was, “I’d remember you.” This guy wasn’t the sort you forgot. Or, the one where it's 1998 and Richie sits down at the bar next to an asshole with a Palm Pilot.

❧ He loves me, he loves me not by Sirius_1910 | T | 1/1 With Valentine's Day coming and the Losers getting together to celebrate at the clubhouse, two boys try speaking feelings, but forget how messy they are on a daily basis. 

❧ Red washcloths and Bloody knuckles. by @toziersspaghettihead | T | 3/3 This shit should’ve been easy, y’know? You pretend to date your best friend so everyone else thinks you have found your soulmate. Richie had been praying for years that he would find the person made specifically for him. However at seventeen and he had yet to have his soulmark- It was concerning, He was starting to think that.. Maybe, Well maybe he was just one of the unlucky few that never found their other half. So the plan came along easily, One day- He was sprawled out on his bed, His best friend. It was late August and he was fucking melting in the heat, Eddie had his legs on top of Richie’s just laid out trying to cool off, With a Comic held above his face. Richie wasn’t as easily distracted that day, He was lost in thought, His music blaring- He prefered loud obnoxious songs any day compared to silence. Yet, His thoughts were running rampant. “Eds, Do you think I’ll ever find my soulmate?” The question had Eddie seizing. “Yeah, Obviously..Everyone has them.” He dropped his comic down onto the bed and sat himself up.

❧ simple words by @birightsrichie | T | 1/1 Eddie had spent his entire life dreading meeting his soulmate. Mainly because the first thing said soulmate was going to say to him was, "Do you come here often?" and Eddie did not want to spend his life with the type of person that would say something like that. He figured they would be extremely annoying and cheesy and probably a bit of an asshole, too. 

❧ Bolt by Satanders | T | 1/1 It's their first Valentine's day together and Eddie wants to surprise Richie, but Richie is not easily romanceable... 

❧ Fake It ‘Till You Make It by Jojosugay | G | 1/1 Richie takes Eddie to his managers valentine's day party pretending to be married.

❧  Welcome to the losers club by jack05writes | T | 1/1  Since bill had quit as the bassist of the losers club, he desperately needed replacing... Enter eddie kaspbrak.

❧  the townhouse by uhohcanteen | E | 1/1 richie snaps out of it faster than pennywise had anticipated. now, as richie rolls them both out of the way and start running away, they have got a lot ahead of them, including a night to remember. 

❧  Just Another Coffee Shop AU by @stardust-writer | T | 1/1 “You’re just jealous,” his friend Beverly would say. “You wish your lonely ass had someone to make out with today, but you’re stuck with me, a strictly platonic best friend.” “Correction, I was stuck with you,” Eddie says, holding up a finger. “Now that you’re dating Ben, I am, as you put it, a lonely ass.” Beverly laughs and then pulls him along, trying to appease her friend. And it’s not like she was wrong, Eddie just didn’t like to admit she was right. Because she tended to get smug when she was right and that was almost all the time. He already had to put up with it on a daily basis, he would rather it didn’t double on this godforsaken holiday. Or: It's Valentine's Day and Eddie is single.

❧  Illegal Moves by @northwindscookie | T | 1/1 Pizza plus beer plus our two favorite gay dumbasses equals a recipe for a Reddie's Valentine's Day. 

Bill Denbrough/Ben Hanscom

❧  butterflies and storms and ooey-gooey feelings by @lo-v-ers | T | 1/1 Ben Hanscom is the human definition of sunshine weaved into a warm heart and a generous soul and everything good that a person could possibly be. They met in their English 101 class freshman year, and they just clicked, and Bill has never felt as understood as he did when Ben looked him in the eyes and smiled and nodded and spoke with wisdom that an eighteen year old shouldn’t have. (Ben looks at Bill and sees the stars, glimmering and beautiful and breathtaking. He looks when Bill isn’t looking and he smiles and feels his heart flutter with joy and something else, but Bill doesn’t know that.) (At least, he doesn’t know it yet.)

Mike Hanlon/Richie Tozier

❧  head in the clouds but my gravity's centered by @queermccoy | G | 1/1 “There’s a situation,” he tells Eddie, who is sitting at his desk surrounded by textbooks and yellow legal pads filled with drawings of complex chemical and Matchbox 20 lyrics. “What is it?” Eddie asks, dropping his pen and turning in his rickety chair. There’s an edge of panic in his tone, like he isn’t there yet but could be in no time at all. “Mike Hanlon asked me to go see a movie!” Richie practically yells, hands in the air. He’s still huffing and puffing from running through campus and up the stairs. “So?” Eddie blinks, “We see movies with Mikey all the time. How is that a situation?” “Because he asked me to go out on Valentine’s Day!” Richie says and falls on his bed dramatically.

Richie Tozier/Stanley Uris

❧ making out is hard to do by winkyjinki | T | 1/1 With Valentine's Day coming up, Stanley Uris faces his biggest challenge since defeating an evil clown: getting his first kiss. 

❧ The Truth Is That I Think I've Had Enough by @reddie4thesinbin | E | 1/1 For the first time since Stan developed feelings for his best friend, Richie was finally single on Valentine’s Day, and Stan was fully planning on taking advantage of it. He invited Richie on a camping trip, just wanting one night where he could pretend, but Richie had different plans. 

❧  Moon Secrets by @the-ben-handsome | T | 1/1 When it gets to be a certain hour of the night is when everything gets all weird; truth or dare reveals secrets shared under the moonlight. 

Bill Denbrough/Stanley Uris 

❧  The Bluejay In The Corner by  @adore-affection | T | 1/? He couldn’t keep it in any longer, but he couldn’t just tell someone, it was too dangerous. When he got up to his room he pulled out a thick page of blue stationery and began to write. 

❧ Reasons Why I Want To Fuck My Student's Brother by @aleckisverygay​ | Not rated  | 4/4 When Richie and Stanley find themselves hard-pressed for money, they decide to go job hunting in order to afford their bills and keep from being thrown onto the street in the middle of January. Little does Stanley know, a tutoring job quickly turns to something more when he meets Bill Denbrough, his student’s charming brother. Shenanigans ensue, Stanley has a sexual awakening and Georgie is hell-bent on hooking his brother up with the cute tutor.

Who knew a story about rampant libidos could be so emotionally fulfilling and have, like, meaning?

Mike Hanlon/Stanley Uris

❧  Happiness and Love Revolve Around You by CoolestLemon | M | 1/1 A cute little peek into Mike and Stan's relationship, especially as they try to buy their dream home. 

Beverly Marsh/Richie Tozier/Stanley Uris

❧  Our Man-At-Arms by SevlinRipley | T | 1/1 Beverly is often the one to pull the trigger. 

[marie-dufresne]

When your Old Bear tells you it’s supply run day and you get to step into a shop. @exsiliumductoris