made by yours truly in procreate. this is mostly intended to capture the feeling of the 1958 portions of the book, but it applies to the 1985 parts too 👍 very much not meant to depict the movies however, since i haven’t seen them
below the cut is the sources for all the images & text i used in this. i lowkey think i ended up spending more time on that than actually making this so i hope someone appreciates that LOL
photo with burnt out silhouette (upper left): piece from Rosanna Jones’ Fire series.
schoolbus pic beneath the burnt out silhouette (upper left): photo from the flickr album “when we were very young” by user modern_fred.
“can we have one more summer together?” (upper left): comes from a photo of a bike with text edited over it, i cannot for the life of me find the source of the original text-free version OR of the original edit unfortunately. i sourced the image from here and can’t give a better source as of right now sadly :(
“I was, once, very close to getting out of here” (centre): appears to be from a tumblr post by the now-deactivated user strawberry-trellis, originally posted with the caption “Journal entry February 28, 2017:”. i’ve linked a reblog of this post as the blog that posted it is no longer available.
kids playing baseball in the forest (upper right corner): photo titled “1978: Hodges baseball team” by Shirley Burkhart from Victoria Lynn’s 2020 hubpages post “Childhood Memories in Rambling Prose/Poetry--Playing Baseball With My Brothers”.
⬆️ i won’t lie, i feel a little weird about using this image now that i’ve found the source and know it’s such a personal photo. the pin directly linked to this post & wasn’t posted by any user so i have to assume a feature of hubpages is adding images to pinterest & that’s why the photo was on pinterest. hopefully victoria lynn was aware of that? at the very least i know she had permission to share the photo publicly. hm..
forest/woodland (immediately below the picture of kids playing baseball): photo of the unabomber cabin site taken in 1998 by photographer Richard Barnes as part of his project Unabomber.
⬆️ another one i didn’t know the details of when i used it!! im very much sitting here going THE UNABOMBER CABIN SITE???? this was another photo where the pin linked directly to the source and there wasn’t any user attached to it so i have to assume it was a case of the website automatically uploading the image to pinterest in some manner.
kids on bike (picture over the top of the unabomber cabin site photo, middle right): appears to be a photo by Brenda Reamy captioned “Douglas Dolshun, Eric Reamy and Cindy Reamy show off their stingray bicycles in this circa 1972 photo taken on Park Avenue in River Edge. Courtesy of Brenda Reamy”, according to a reddit post from 7 years ago. i believe this to be accurate as the date and location both align with the earliest use of this photo i could find, a pinterest post of this nj.com article where the image itself is no longer viewable.
steelworks (bottom right): thumbnail from youtube video titled “Round Oak Steelworks No. 2 Arc Shop 1963” by David Vale.
“we were the best of friends at that moment”: quote from John Knowles’ A Separate Peace on a paint card, originally from a post to the blog of tumblr user cinnalemons.
⬆️ finding the origin of that image actually led me to finding it in a higher resolution than i’d originally found it. finding image sources pays, folks!!
kid with tv (bottom left): can’t find the original source for the life of me unfortunately. closest i can find is this facebook post by Steven Stoneski.
sewer (bottom left, underneath the kid with the tv): photo originally uploaded to the website nealirc.org on the page “The Chicago Sewers: Deep Sewer (Gallery 32)”, taken on April 18, 2013.
⬆️ to be honest i’m genuinely kind of unsure wtf this website is or what this page is about. i think it’s someone’s personal site where they, among other things, share sewer exploration stories, but i’m not entirely sure who that someone is. i hope they’re okay with their photo being reposted so much (and used by at least two soundclouds).
Le Petit Prince quote: quote itself is of course from Le Petit Prince/The Little Prince, the book by Antoine de Saint-Exupery. photo appears to have been originally sourced from an etsy listing for a piece of cardstock with the quote written on it with a typewriter, sold by LettersWithImpact at least 9 years ago.
warnings | Angst, underage drinking, hints of an abusive relationship, cheating
word count | 3,021
keys | (Y/n) = Your name, (Y/i) = Your initials (Tina Diane Albertson = TDA), (Bf/n) = Boyfriend’s name (can be any random name)
song | Class Clown - Anthony Amorin
summary | Hi,,, I love your blog smmmmmm I’m such a huge fan!!!!!!!! Can I request a Richie Tozier x reader angst/fluff sonfic based on the song Class Clown by Anthony Amorim????? I think it fits him a lot,,, thank you in advance!!!!
editor | @feliscatus-exe
>> back to prev <<
Keep reading
I hope this doesn’t freak you out
But I thought I’d just say, “Hey”
I know we’ve barely spoken out of school
But it seems I’ve grown attached to the thought of you
>><<
Richie walked through the front doors of the arcade. The vibrant lights flashed before his eyes and despite his need to squint, he couldn’t have felt happier. The pungent smell of dorky pre-teen sweat made his eyes water. He and many other boys spent their weekends cooped up in this marvelous place. Smashing buttons until their fingers were cramped and their brains were rotten.
Years passed and some might tell him it was childish for a 17-year-old to still spend his summers in an arcade, but he would always tell them to shove off, right before flaunting his unbeaten high scores in every single game in the joint. It was a safe haven, to say the least. There wasn’t a time in his life where he couldn’t run to the ugly square building he considered home. Even when his pockets were barren of any quarters, he had learned how to pick the locks and steal those already residing in the clunky machines.
He made his way down the path which was burned in his memory. The path to Galaga. The path to endless hours of unparalleled delight. Except, Galaga was occupied. And it wasn’t occupied by just anyone. It was occupied by you. Your fingers were dancing across the buttons as if that’s what they were crafted to do. And it seemed all he could do was stand and stare in awe.
He swallowed the lump in his throat. Not only was the cutest boy in all of Derry, Maine playing Galaga, but he was damn near close to beating his high score. And his high score was pretty damn high. He didn’t know what to say, or even if he would say anything. But, his presence didn’t go unnoticed, especially not when the familiar chime of the game over sequence sounded.
“You know, I do a lot better when the feeling of staring eyes aren’t on the back of my neck.” You said, typing in your initials to the high scoreboard. (Y/i), right underneath the topmost score, RTT. You were short of his score by a couple hundred.
“Ah… Sorry about that… You just don’t see many guys like you here. I was just surprised is all.” He replied. You laughed before turning around, leaning against the machine. You would’ve asked what ‘guys like you’ meant, but there was something familiar about him.
“Oh hey, I know you.” You said. He raised his eyebrows.
“You do?” He asked. You nodded.
“You’re Derry, Maine’s very own band boy.” You replied. His eyes dropped to the floor.
“Oh… Yeah, I… I guess you could say that.” He said. The air was silent for a while, an awkward tension beginning to form.
>><<
And to tell the truth, I use humor to mask my insecurities
Oh I try to be funny, quite a bit
And look at me now
Stumbling over a joke you’ve probably heard before
>><<
Richie cleared his throat.
“So… I recently took a pole and found…” He started. You gave him a quizzical look. He saw this and his hands began to form sweat and his throat started closing up.
“I found that… uh… people are… angry… shit, I messed up the joke.” He said, dropping his face into his hands. He heard your sweet laugh and separated his fingers to look at you. A smile was adorned on your face as you looked at him.
“Were 100% of the occupants angry with you when their tent collapsed?” You asked. He moved his hands away from his face.
“You… know the joke?” He asked. You giggled and nodded.
“You’re not the only joke connoisseur here Tozier.” You replied. His shoulders became less tense as he returned the smile.
“Jeez, a guy my age who plays arcade games and likes puns. What factory did they make you in?” He asked.
“Sorry to disappoint but I’m one of a kind.”
>><<
‘Cause all I’m paying attention to is the way you look at him
So I cross the room and clear my head
Wishing it was me instead
Who always keeps you interested
I close my eyes and count to 10
I need to stop overthinking it
>><<
“(Y/n)!” A barely familiar voice called. You looked to where the voice came from, and your face changed from lighthearted smiling to absolute adoration. Richie followed your gaze to the entrance to see the guy he only knew as your boyfriend.
“(Bf/n)!” You shouted happily. He walked towards you quickly, not even a smile on his face.
“Richie this is (Bf/n) my boyfriend, (Bf/n) this is-”
“What are you doing here?” He cut you off. Your smile fell.
“What do you mean?” You asked. He sighed.
“I’ve told you how I feel about you being here.” He said. You gave a small smile.
“I just thought-”
“It doesn’t matter. Come on. Let’s just go before anyone else sees us.” He cut you off once again, grabbing your wrist and beginning to walk away. You turned to Richie and gave a small wave before turning back to (Bf/n).
Richie watched with a frown as you walked out of the doors. He stuck his hands in his pockets before leaning on the arcade game. He never did like the way (Bf/n) treated you. It was never anything serious. He never hit you. He was just… mean. And any time Richie wanted to say something about it, everyone told him he was being overdramatic. He sighed and closed his eyes, trying to clear his head.
>><<
I might not be everything you asked for
I know that
And you might take a look at me and say
“Is this the kind of guy who chases after me these days?
Guys who use humor to mask their insecurities?”
>><<
The day may have changed to night but Richie’s feelings didn’t change. They never did. He still laid in bed thinking of you. He still hated himself for it, because he knew very well that you could never love a guy like him. He knew you loved people like (Bf/n), and he was nothing like (Bf/n).
He was Richie. Richie who uses humor to mask his insecurities. Richie who hides behind a punchline. Richie the jester. Richie the joker. He could bring up with all the synonyms in the dictionary but overall, he was Richie Trashmouth Tozier who couldn’t get his damn mind off you.
He turned on his side, now staring at the wall. He didn’t want to think of you. He didn’t want to think about all the flaws he would change if it simply meant you would like him. He hated thinking about it because all it did was make him yearn for something he could never have.
>><<
Well, I try to be funny, quite a lot
And look at me now
Stumbling over myself at a party I wasn’t invited to
Drink in my hand, trying to find a spot to sleep
>><<
Richie sat up. This was torture with no end, and for what? Of course, he was in love with you, and of course, it hurt to know you’d never return those feelings. But did it have to? Did he have to let it hurt? Why couldn’t he drown his sorrows in empty solo cups? No one was telling him it was a bad idea, so he saw no reason not to.
He stood and walked to his closet, finding the closest thing to an acceptable party outfit he could, and threw it on in a frenzy. He raked a brush through his hair and slipped on a stray pair of converse. He wasn’t going to the party to look cute. He was going to the party to get his mind off you, so the way he looked was the farthest from his mind. As long as he could throw back a couple of shots, he was good.
He popped the locks of his window and climbed out, grabbing his bike from the ground and hopping on. He began pedaling to a house he knew was partying. It was always partying. He didn’t know how they got the funds or why their parents were never home, but no matter what day he went, the music was always loud and the rooms were always crowded.
And sure enough, this fact was proven to be right yet again. As he walked through the front door, several bodies moved to the beat of the loud music. There was an entire table dedicated to poisons he could graciously pick from. And to top it all off, you were nowhere in sight.
He tripped over many ankles making his way over to the alcohol setup. He would have apologized if anyone cared, but they were much too wrapped up in their own heads. He wouldn’t have been surprised if no one even noticed him. He wouldn’t be mad either.
Once he got to the table, he grabbed a solo cup and gladly topped himself off with whiskey. He then moved away and into a hallway where there were considerably fewer people. There were still many, but a lot more breathable than the living room which they had transformed into a pill mill dance floor. He leaned back onto a wall, and simply enjoyed the burning feeling of alcohol running down his throat and sinking into his stomach.
>><<
And I see you, you with him
I start to drift off, nothing left but me and my thoughts
Does she even know that I exist?
I close my eyes and count to 10
I need to stop overthinking this
>><<
That was, until, he noticed something. Less of something, more of someone. And not just anyone either. It was you. You with him. You had a large smile on your face as your arms were wrapped around him. He seemed less enthusiastic. But Richie didn’t care. He wasn’t the one that mattered. You were.
You looked stunning. Your smiling face was like artwork. Your button-up and dress pants accented all the best parts of your figure. Your entire presence just seemed to render him breathless. When he saw you, his dopamine rose, but just as quickly, it dropped.
Because along with your beauty came the thoughts he tried running away from. All the insecurities he tried to bury. The “Does he even remember my name?"s and the "Does he even care?"s. All questions he both knew and dreaded the answers to.
He turned away, tipping his glass into his mouth and downing the remaining liquid. Ignoring the burning, he rushed into the bathroom, locking the door behind him and leaning over the sink. His eyes watered and his fists clenched. He couldn’t escape you, no matter how hard he tried.
>><<
I would ask you to take me as I am
But it won’t do any good
Because what you see isn’t who I am
I would show you if I could
>><<
Richie dropped his bike on the ground, not caring about the damage it took. He climbed through his window and shut it behind him, dropping on his bed afterward. His eyes stayed stuck to the ceiling, even when they began to pour out tears. He always tried not to cry. To keep his feelings bottled inside so no one would ever figure anything out. But quite honestly, he was so fed up he didn’t care.
What started as an innocent child crush became life-consuming and destructive. He was so in love with you that it was beginning to physically pain him to not be with you. He wanted nothing more than to call you his and you call him yours, but it could never be that way, and that’s what stung the most.
He got up, tears still running down his cheeks, and sat at his desk, pulling out a black, leather-covered book and a pen. He sniffled and opened to a blank page, doing the only thing he could ever seem to do right. The words seemed to flow out of him just as easily as his tears did. And he hoped he could turn his own pain into a masterpiece others could enjoy.
>><<
I change the way I speak
And how I act and what I say
'Cause I’m afraid that you won’t like me any other way
And I use humor to mask my insecurities
>><<
The sun was slowly rising, and so was Richie. He had stayed up all night, channeling his teenage angst into an even angstier song. He wasn’t sure how good it was. He became semi-delirious after four hours of nonstop writing, erasing, revising, and repeating. He wanted to go over it with fresh eyes, so when he was waking and deciding to be a functioning human being, he skimmed it over.
Maybe it wasn’t his most amazing piece, but with a solid beat, it could be something he was proud of. His strong suit, however, was never instrumentals. He was good with a guitar when he was told what to do and he could beat the drums if you told him how, but that’s as far as his talent reached.
He needed reinforcements. People who were good at creating tunes for words. People who wouldn’t make fun of his vulnerability. People he could trust. And those people were his bandmates, The Losers. He stood and opened his bedroom door, walking down the hall to his phone and dialing Bill’s number.
"Hello?” A deep voice he recognized as Bill’s father chimed.
“Hi, can I speak to Bill?” Richie asked. He heard Bill’s dad call out his name and then waited patiently for the signal that the line had been switched.
“H-hello?” Bill asked.
“Hey, it’s Richie. I threw together a song last night. Would you mind calling up the others and heading over to see what we can do with it?” Richie asked.
“Yeah, s-sure. I’ll gather them and h-h-head over soon.” Bill replied.
“Thanks. See you in a bit.”
“See ya.”
>><<
So, I try to be funny all the time
And look at me now
Stumbling over the words of a song I wrote for you
A song you’ll probably never hear
>><<
Hours had passed and Richie was restless. The Losers had come over and after they all read over what he had written, it seemed everyone was on board with it being a solo song to a soft ukulele beat. He was the only one who seemed opposed to this. He wanted it to be loud because it would distract from the true meaning of the lyrics, but they wouldn’t let him.
So, they spent the next chunk of the day plucking at the strings of a ukulele, figuring out what sounded good and what didn’t. It took a long time but once they got all the chords down, they forced the small guitar onto Richie and waited tentatively. He looked at their prying eyes before sighing and starting on the first chord. He found it easy to play the song and sing, and quite honestly really enjoyed how the song fit the strums.
You had been walking down the street when you heard the melody. The voice sounded familiar and pleasant to your ears. You stayed hidden from the opening of the garage, not wanting to interrupt what might have been a tender moment. You closed your eyes and began to really listen to the lyrics, analyzing them and what they might mean to the singer.
>><<
Because I’m too ashamed and too afraid
What kind of person writes a song
About a girl he’s barely spoken to?
I close my eyes and count to 10
>><<
Richie finished the song on a perfect note, causing everyone to clap. They smiled at him, and some even hugged him.
“That was really good Richie. I’m honestly surprised you put that much vulnerability in a song.” Beverly said. Richie shrugged, his cheeks becoming red from embarrassment.
“Trust me Bev, I’m as surprised as you are.” He replied. She laughed.
“I know I wasn’t the one singing but man am I parched. Mind if I raid your fridge?” Mike asked. Richie nodded.
“Go right on ahead.” He replied.
“Anyone joining me?” Mike asked. Everyone but Richie volunteered. He didn’t mind though. Being alone after performing a song like that might’ve done him some good. He watched as the six teenagers funneled into his house with a small smile. However, that quickly fell when the door shut and he heard more clapping. He turned, and almost screamed out loud when he saw you leaning on the frame of the opening.
“(Y/n), what are you doing here?” He asked, setting the ukulele down and standing upright. You shrugged and stuffed your hands in your pockets.
“Just strolling around the neighborhood. I needed to clear my head. Then, I heard the telltale voice of Richie Tozier, but not in the way it usually is. Instead of loud and over electric guitar, it was soft and over a ukulele. Singing a song about a situation that sounds a bit familiar. Imagine that.” You said. Richie swallowed before looking at his shoes. Maybe it was time to come clean. It’s not like he could go back now. You already knew who it was about so what else did he have to lose?
“Look (Y/n)… I needed to get these feelings out, and I didn’t know how else to do it other than writing a song. I know you’re with (Bf/n) and I wasn’t trying to accomplish anything with this I just… Maybe it’ll help me get over you.” He said, avoiding eye contact the entire time. You sighed.
“(Bf/n) cheated on me last night at the party.” You said. Richie looked up, his jaw dropped.
“He… Oh wow… I’m so sorry.” Richie replied, trying to form the best response he could. You shrugged.
“He tried to blame it on me. Said it was my fault for giving you 'googly eyes’ all the time.” You replied. Richie scoffed.
“That sounds just like (Bf/n). I really am sorry (Y/n).” Richie said. You gave a sad smile.
“No… It’s okay. He was bad for me anyway. I really only dated him because I didn’t think the guy I did like returned my feelings.” You said. Richie nodded.
“Well, on the bright side you can figure out if the other guy does like you.” He replied. He was hurt, but he would mask it. The last thing you needed on your plate was his stupid feelings. At least that’s what he thought. He was proven wrong yet again though, for you gave a small laugh and did something he never would have expected. You kissed his cheek.
