I decided it was the perfect season to draw Richie! Honestly this is the first time I've drawn him and not thought it looks like shit but also its been a while and I've improved.
I can not stress enough how much this character means to me. Having a gay character in a horror movie that isn't there to be picked off or have it be their only personality trait makes me so happy.
I believe all LGBTQ characters in media should be characters first representation second and I feel like that's exactly how Richie was in the movies.
I just made this recolor of my own drawing. The same drawing I'm so proud of, but with The hawaiian shirt in pink, I think It looks better. What do you think?
“What are you afraid of Melody?” “I don’t wanna talk about it.”
My book, Secrets | Stanley Uris, is in the works on Wattpad as we speak! Go check the first few chapters out!!! https://www.wattpad.com/story/210891964?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=link&utm_content=share_writing&wp_page=create_story_details&wp_uname=_what_ever__&wp_originator=6dmqcw4apE2VZ8IdOHipBGHIQRiCNFc%2BhAt8uYkoq7F%2Fcsm%2BmIVJsUiTXUFdCTVKVGqZT8Yt4x7WdfChFt5aD2QgYmzwIw13RwZupKcHMEM5RnXQJG680egd2l4YH8wz
Pg. 60 "How much do you remember, Rich?" Mike asked him.
"Very little," Rich said, and then paused. "Enough, I suppose."
"Will you come?"
"I'll come," Rich said, and hung up.
First, of course, he put on a record- not hunting, just grabbing blindly among the thousands racked on the shelves. Rock and roll was almost as much a part of his life as the Voices, and it was hard for him to do anything without music playing- and the louder the better. The record he grabbed turned out to be a Motown retrospective. Marvin Gaye, one of the newer members of what Rich sometimes called The All-Dead Band, came on singing "I Heard It Through the Grapevine."
Pg. 66 "Clarence doesn't want to talk to Mike, Rich. Clarence doesn't want to talk to Bobby Russell. He doesn't want to talk to me. He wants to talk to you, my friend. And I have no interest in having a pissed-off two-hundred-and-fifty-pound saxophone player who was once almost drafted by a pro football team running amok in my studio."
"I don't think he has a history of running amok," Rich said. "I mean, we're talking Clarence Clemons here, not Keith Moon."
Pg. 67 "Oh, get down off it," Rich said. "I need a few days off, is all. You're acting like I took a shit on your FCC charter."
Pg. 70 The light was fading. He looked at his house with the new plantings, he looked at the beach, at the water, which had taken on the cast of pale emeralds broken by a narrow track of beaten gold. And a conviction stole over him that he would never see any of this again, that he was a dead man walking.
"Going home now," Rich Tozier whispered to himself. "Going home, God help me, going home."
"dead man walking" richie tozier x wife! reader PT. 1
genre: HEAVILY ANGST, short (but a multiple parter)
word count: 469 words, 2,499 characters
warning: death, personal au idea
y/n takes a deep breath, sitting down on the cold dark brown wooden chair behind her, a black ink pen pressed down on the white blank paper as her mind stirred for ideas, soon enough a few came into play.
'i hate him. i hate his hawaiian shirts that still smell like him whenever i wear them. i hate his soft hair that i'd play with while he makes ur mom jokes to eddie'. i hate his sense of humor. i hate how much he tells me he loves me at the most random moments. i hate how he drinks underage. i hate how he loves adventure. i hate his stupid accents. i hate his music taste. i hate his addiction to the arcade.'
y/n's throat bubbled with the need to cough and plead for air as tears swelled her eyes.
'i love him.' y/n wrote, before folding the paper into 4th and placing it on richie's grave stone.
Richie "Trashmouth" Tozier
1978 - 2016
these words, y/n's eyes read over and over again until it was a struggle to think about anything else other than him. because, richie had died that day.. not eddie, richie shielded his best friend last minute. eddie blamed himself even since, it hit y/n harder though. "tozier!" beverly called out, besides ben and mike. "how you holding up?" ben asked, rubbing y/n's shoulder. "good.." y/n sniffled. "i-i guess.. everything just reminds me of him.. and ryan looks so much like him.." y/n's lip quivered as she spoke. richie and y/n had decided to have a baby in the summer of 2013, his name was ryan. richie had almost quit his job of being a comedian for the baby but y/n refused, he was a hit and the due date for ryan's birth was a space between performing so he was off. y/n had to get a c-section to birth ryan, though it took awhile-- ryan was born happy and healthy, richie's nickname for ryan was "hijo de un ángel" which is spanish for "son of an angel".
"we'll leave you be.." mike said with a sympathetic smile before returning the three of them to the car everyone was in before y/n turned back to richie's grave, sitting down on her knees in front of it and smiling. "heh.. hey.. beep beep richie.. heh.." y/n tried her best to joke, fuck. everything reminded her of him. "i love you.." she said softly, a single tear falling from her e/c eyes and onto where the body laid underground.
y/n's phone buzzed in the back pocket of her jean shorts, she reached back and slid the phone out, turning it on before a gasp escaped her lips, her eyes widened at the sight before her.
richie <3: 'i love you too [red heart emoji]'
3:24 PM