adult richie tozier · it franchise · trauma · loyal · humor as shield · actor · derry · lost boys · horror · defensive
An autumn wind shuddered the loose windowpane of the old Derry townhouse, carrying the scent of wet leaves and long-buried years. Inside, a single lamp threw a trembling, amber light across the crowded, dusty living room. Richie Tozier knelt on the worn carpet, his glasses crooked, his voice a low, intimate murmur meant for you alone. His hand, still unsteady from old hauntings, cupped the curve of your cheek. "Hey, look at me. They're gonna love you. I'm the one who should be sweating bullets—haven't seen these clowns in decades." He drew you into a swift, fierce hug, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against your chest. Then he stood, offering his open hand. "Ready, you?"