i was thinkin about them the other day so,,, hey

i also like to imagine that no one at eddie’s job knows anything about his personal life, like their boss mr kaspbrak is a pretty shut off guy until they slowly start to learn things about him

like every time his coworkers find out something about him, instead of answering questions, it just makes everyone even more confused

All I can think about is Stan establishing a relative peace and then Bev arriving and just looking at him with chaotic glee before he's just yelling "NO DONT DO IT BEV PLEASE" And then she just screams "FLOOR IS LAVA!" Immediately disturbing it and causing a chain reaction of like Bill parkouring up onto his desk while Mike betrays Ben and knocks him away from the bed and Eddie jumping on Richies back who's like "WOAH HEY!" With just yelling in response "YOU DONT COUNT AS THE FLOOR" And Stan just slowly laying fully on the floor in despair as they have a test tomorrow

Broke: Bev was all the losers first love

Woke: Bill was all the losers first love

turned some of calum's most iconic clothes into lockscreens :)

Au where the losers start a youtube channel together and as odd as the content is. It works.

Happy Halloween from the Losers Club!

ppl who say that an it×st crossover would never exist cuz Mike and Richie are both played by Finn, like man,, haven't you seen the Parent Trap?? That shit's glorious

excerpt of a horror fic about a corn maze I started writing for no real reason other than trying to jot out the writers block

Eddie couldn’t really run any longer. He was caught in between wanting, so badly, to see any sane person, to see Ben or even Beverly, and being afraid of getting caught again by not-sane people. When he paused for too long, he could feel the metal of the knife pressed up against his neck, the leering, greasy teenager looking down at him. He kept moving. He jogged quietly, little bits of broken stalk crack under his feet, breath raking up his throat with every exhale in the cold, bitter Autumn night. It had been close to a half hour, he was sure of it.

But he could hear the rustling behind him.

Fuck Ben. Fuck his obsession with that red headed girl. But especially: fuck corn mazes, haunted or otherwise.

The rustling nearer. Eddie just stopped, planting his hands on his knees, feeling his breath punch him in the chest over and over. Despite the lack of wind, the cold bit into his cheek and the tip of his nose, gnawed into his knuckles and the bit of his ankle left exposed. The rustle neared.

He looked back.

There, in the twinkle-light path of looming corn stalks, was a hand extended through the corn. It was holding an axe, glinting in the orange-tinted light. Eddie squinted at it. It looked like… plastic. This fucker was going to try and kill him with a Halloween store accessory?

He swallowed around the thick lump in his chest, scanning to the left to see the continued line of corn that lined the path.

Fuck it.

He swallowed his heart, trying to leap out of his chest and into his mouth, and jumped into the thick row of corn.

Going in between stalks was harder than it looked, they were tough and sturdy. He fought through. The stalks scratched his face, and he tumbled to the other side. Standing clean in the center of the path was the man in a human’s butcher uniform, except for a large mascot pig’s head covering his face.

Eddie all but growled, remembering the man in the suit, who attacked him not half an hour ago, and decided he was done running.

He sprinted at him. The guy stumbled back, before turning to run himself. He heard muffled shouts coming from inside the suit. He couldn’t hear them, nor did he care. He was much taller than Eddie, but he didn’t give a single fuck. He aimed, and dove, for a leg, sending the two crashing to the ground.

The guy gave a shout of shock, or pain, he wasn’t sure which, as they fell. Eddie’s knee slammed into the ground on the side of the one guy, but gave him enough purchase to roll on top of him.

Eddie had never been in a fight in his life, couldn’t even remember where to put his thumb, but still landed punch after punch to the guys mask. “You sick FUCK,” he yelled at him, relentlessly dropping down his fists on to the mask.

The leather gloved fist came up and socked Eddie. It landed right under his chin, sending him tumbling off of the man under him. It hit him with a solid, scary, cracking sound, and he swore as he tucked, rolling away from the guy. He realized there were muffled complaints coming from inside the costume, the guy struggling to pull off the foam pig’s head.

“Fuck, dude.” The guy complained loudly once he managed to pull it off. Dark waves fell out from the mask, which he threw at the ground with another loud swear. “If you can’t handle getting fucking scared, don’t come to a goddamned haunted house.” The guy with his sloped nose and strong jaw, groped around in the head for something with one of his hands. He remembered this guy. The animal skins, the horrid smell. Eddie swallowed his fear with a large gulp, and tackled the guy again, landing on his stomach with a resounding thump.

“You motherfucker.” Eddie wrestled his arms above his head, but the dude was bucking hard and fast. also swearing at him. “This isn’t scaring people.” The dude’s face was scrunched up with confusion. “This is torture porn. You sick fucks probably get off to this.”

The guys longer, bigger arms won out in a momentary lapse of strength. Eddie fell back, hitting the cold ground with a resounding ‘oof.’ The guy was looming over him, one hand tightly curled over his wrist, knee pinning his thighs to the ground.

Eddie made a bizarre noise, one he didn’t even know he was capable of making. He quit his struggle for only a moment, letting his back relish in the pain it was experiencing, squirming on the unforgiving ground.

The guy snorted, “and I’m the one getting off to this?” He demanded skeptically. Eddie’s blood rushed through him, hot and red, and he flung his arm up at the guy. He smacked at his face with his free hand.

“For fuck’s sake,” the guy swore, grabbing his other wrist with his other hand, and pinning them above his head. He held them down with one of his hands, using the other to grab a radio from his back pocket. “Richie calling in: I need help in between markers, fuck.” He squinted above the lines of corn. “Fuck, I can’t see them. Green and blue, definitely. Maybe 6 and 7? A guest got violent, started hitting me in the face. Little fuck is lucky he didn’t break my glasses.” Eddie stared up at the guy in front of him, stopping his wild bucking for a moment. He wasn’t who he thought he was. His jaw was wider. His eyes were bigger. His face wasn’t completely covered in acne. Eddie had no fucking clue who he had just attacked. Richie, apparently.

Not that it mattered that he was getting tattled on. No one was going to respond to that fucking radio call. They hadn’t earlier. He seemed to note that Eddie lost his fight, or he lost his strength, and flattened out his hand above Eddie’s to hold himself up. This dude would never last in a horror movie. “Hello??” He called in. Eddie rolled his eyes. “Hello??” He called in in a coarse southern accent, “this is Officer Nicholas-” and Eddie’s memory was fully jogged. He was that sort of dorky dude in glasses and a cowboy hat from the hayride. He sat back from Eddie fully, holding one hand out warily between them. “Calling in from… Fuck if I know.” The line was still dead. “What the fuck, guys?”

Relief flooded through Eddie’s body to have met literally any semi-normal person. “Oh, thank the fucking Lord,” he sighed to himself, shoving up, off the ground. Richie watched him warily. Eddie did the only thing he could think to do in the moment, his body practically tingling with joy. He grabbed at him again, hugging him around the middle. “You’re normal.” He sighed, pressing his face into the concerning leather apron he was wearing.

“Uh.” Richie apparently had no idea what to do. He patted Eddie’s shoulder. “There… there??” He tried to sound consoling. “I don’t know if you’d find it comforting to know that that is literally the first time anyone’s ever told me that.”

“Do you have a fridge that doesn’t work full of animal skins?”

“What the fuck?? No.”

“Then you are so,” Eddie’s arms tightened around him, “perfectly,” although he smelled quite a bit like farm, under it he also smelled like teenage boy, like axe and locker room, a terrible, yet familiar, smell, “wonderfully,” Eddie nuzzled him closer, “normal.”

“Yeah, my fridge of animal skins works just fine.” Richie snorted. He laughed at his own joke. Eddie didn’t care. He might have laughed a little bit too, but that could have been the paranoia settled in.

“One of your coworkers tried to kill me,” he told Richie with a yawn. Being frightened was truly goddamn exhausting. “The walkies weren’t working then, either.”

“Oh.”

“That’s why I attacked you.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I thought you were him.”

“Oh.”

“But you aren’t!” Eddie snuggled in, freezing in the cold autumn air. He couldn’t imagine Richie was faring might better, “you normal son of a bitch, you.” He told him fondly.

“Uh,” Richie settled for rubbing his shoulder, then, instead of the plaintative patting. “That’s. Good, I guess. That I’m not him. But, I don’t think you understand the point of a haunted maze. No one was going to hurt you.”

“Yeaaah,” Eddie drawled, “nope. This wasn’t your run of the mill pops out and scares you kind of deal.” Richie snorted with disbelief. Or maybe discomfort at being hugged that long. Eddie didn’t care. After the half hour he had, he’d hug anyone as long as he damn well pleased. “I’m serious.”

“Uh-huh.” Richie replied placatingly.

Eddie looked up at him disbelievingly. “Dude’s a motherfucking psycho. He put a knife to my throat.” He relented his snuggle. But he still gripped on to Richie’s costume with one hand. He might have fully removed himself from his person if Richie’s arm wasn’t still resting on his back.

“… again, I just don’t think you’re understanding the concept of a haunted maze?!”

“For fuck’s sakes,” Eddie nearly shoved the annoying condescending fucker, “he dragged me by my collar,” he grabbed the back of his now fucking stretched out shirt, and Richie’s eyes lost some of their mirthful glint. “through the corn and,” he looked up and caught his eyes. Richie’s had lost their sparkle, and they were staring at him, wide and concerned, “and tried to make me get into his fridge full of animal skins.” He told him honestly, almost retching at the memory of the scent. “Is that part of your GODDAMNED haunted maze?!”

Richie blinked. He looked as if his brain was just entirely failing to process the new information. “I’m sorry… what??”

“YEAH.” Eddie shouted, “that’s what I fucking thought. And he,” he grabbed Richie’s costume tighter, pulling it towards him, “was wearing this costume earlier.”

“That…” Richie reasoned. His eyes squinted around, like he was running through the possibilities. “That would be Patrick Hockset-… fuck.” His other arm wrapped around Eddie, drawing him closer, like they weren’t total strangers. He warily scanned the clearing.

“What?” Eddie asked, tilting his chin up on his side. “He a friend of yours?” He, tentatively, wrapped his arms around him.

Richie snorted, “no.” His breath, hot and heady, hit the back of Eddie’s head, reminding him just how cold he was. “I believe you.” He admitted earnestly after a pause. Eddie let out a shaky breath. “Dude’s totally into this stuff. I hate this shit, the scaring people part. That’s why I work at the gate, I just cover his break because I’m the only one tall enough to fit into the costume. He’s a total loose cannon.”

“Well.” Eddie settled reasonably, “I just need to get the fuck out of here and then I’ll deal with making sure his ass goes to jail.” Richie then suddenly remembered he was cuddling a total stranger on the clock on the ground of a corn maze. He jumped away, standing up, brushing his gloves off on his pants.

“Well, I can help with that… ?”

“Eddie.”

“Eds. Hi.” He offered his hand down to Eddie, still sitting on the ground. He didn’t even have time to be offended about the new nickname. He clapped his hand with Richie’s, letting him help him pull himself to his feet. “We just follow the markers and-“

They were plunged into darkness, the lights shutting off above them. In his surprise, Richie dropped Eddie’s hand. He tumbled back to the ground.

“Mother….” he said disbelievingly, staring around at the corn.

“Fucker.” Eddie finished, his back crying out in protest yet again

winter break