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#richie
abd-illustrates · 6 months
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👻 Nerdy Prudes Must Die! 👻
Some art from yesterday’s video; where, as per tradition, I made illustrations based on some spooky musical tracks! 🎶First up is this one inspired by Starkid’s new show!
[DO NOT EDIT OR REPOST TO OTHER SITES / ACCOUNTS]   ♻️reblogs are lovely tho!♻️
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inkly-heart · 1 month
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thebeartv · 3 months
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THE BEAR 1.02 Hands
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butchsophiewalten · 27 days
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drawings
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hatchetfieldenjoyer · 5 months
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my silly little memes be upon ye. npmd + textposts part 3
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jensen-frackles · 7 months
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it hurts
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yeyinde · 10 months
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What criticism offers you, then, is an invitation to have your perspective challenged—or at least to grow by truly considering it. You might stick with a choice you’ve been criticized for or end up somewhere completely different. The endgame isn’t the point as much as the process: you grow when you engage with another perspective and decide to decide again. ― Will Guidara, Unreasonable Hospitality: The Remarkable Power of Giving People More Than They Expect
EBON MOSS-BACHRACH as RICHIE JERIMOVICH
THE BEAR, FORKS (S02E07)
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ganggoestohell · 5 months
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"...something we both knew well enough (without saying it out loud)"
"War of the Foxes" by Richard Siken // It: Chapter Two dir. Andy Muschietti // IT by Stephen King // "The Trap" dir. Robert Singer // The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt
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ideas-4-stories · 6 months
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Store Worker: "Would a Captain... Buggy please come to the front desk?" Buggy, arriving at the desk: "Hello, what's the problem?" Store Worker, points to Mohji and Cabaji*: "I believe they belong to you?" Cabaji and Mohji, simultaneously: "We got lost"😢😞 Buggy: "...I didn’t even bring you guys here with me-" Richie: *Sad Lion Noises*
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bluefroggychairr · 4 months
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Can’t believe I still care about two gay kids in a scary clown movie
Maybe I’m the real clown
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imactuallyreallycool · 4 months
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Silly little guy :)
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inkly-heart · 6 months
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I would IMMEDIATELY open my legs for a yandere richie🙏🙏🙏🙏
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thebeartv · 3 months
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THE BEAR 1.05 Sheridan
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charlottesweetly · 7 months
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angelcakestarlet · 2 months
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white mustang
dbf! richie jerimovich x reader
after your estranged father, mikey berzatto, passes away, who else is there to lean one but his best friend richie?
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mike never had to say it out loud, but it was pretty evident that you weren't meant to 'happen'. you were just a reminder that his lifestyle would catch up to him eventually, as it had already done once with you. he tried to be there, bringing you down to the beef on days he could convince your mom to let him see you. he'd keep you in the office with some sandwich wraps to color on and crayons, showing you off to tina and everyone else in the kitchen who had convinced themselves that maybe, just maybe, you would be bear's saving grace. when richie found out mikey had knocked some broad up, he was conflicted. upset because he believed a kid would put a stop to the fun waiting for them in the rest of their twenties and yet to come thirties, slightly relieved because he finally had something worth pushing for. and for a while, you were just that. the staff saw it, richie saw it, you were keeping him just that more sane, just enough. yeah he was a father now but that didn't stop him from joining richie on deal runs, you in the car seat he bought from baby's r us last minute. and until the age of 15, he was (mostly) there, as much as his mind allowed him to be. he had outbursts, your mom didn't want you near him or "that piece of shit restaurant", you and everyone else could tell it was going from okay to bad. and bad quickly became scary, when you wouldn't see him for months. you'd be forced to text richie asking where the fuck your dad was, if he was okay. but richie never had an answer and mike didn't either. but you could see it in his eyes when you would finally stumble upon him after every other month, he had been somewhere inside him that was dark. the longest you went without hearing from him was six months, half a year. your 17th birthday had passed and tina, sugar, pete, ebraheim, cicero, and the rest of the family celebrated with you in the restaurant trying to distract you and themselves from the fact no one, not even richie, could seem to find mike. you saw him one last time, right before he died, after not hearing from him for months he invited you over. it was your second year of college and you were just trying to make it by when you got a call from a number you didn't recognize. you immediately recognized his voice, he was asking you to come over. you reluctantly agreed, being greeted to a messy house with papers everywhere and pill bottles littering little crevices in failed attempts to hide them from himself. that night, he cooked for you one last time. a part of you convinced yourself there was hope left behind his eyes, watching his back profile moving around the kitchen and whipping up a dish like he used to. how he used to sit you on the counter top, made you taste everything with your small hands while richie laughed his ass off at how huge his chain was on you calling you "a fucking g". two months later he shot himself. at the bottom of your stomach behind the sadness and guilt, you almost felt, cathartic? not because he was dead, no. but because you'd never have to wait months to hear from him again, or look down alleyways in hopes of seeing him, or have to look in his eyes and see the glimpse of someone he could have been. you start hanging around the restaurant more despite sugars protests. you never did well coping with your addict father when he was alive, when he'd leave you'd seek that nausea and sinking feeling he brought you elsewhere. it was easy to stumble upon all kinds of trouble, you were young, you were beautiful, and worst of all you were chasing the feeling you knew mike would and could never bring you.
a few months after his death, carmy's recent resurgence, and multiple trips to the bar downtown you decided the comfort of vodka seltzers and the pervy bartender was no longer enough. you were leaving the beef one night, passing by carmy's office to steal his carton of sapphires when you met richie outside for a smoke. "you finally ditch the marbolo red's, kid?" it was a cool spring evening in chicago, you wore your white sundress over warm socks. "you wish, richard" you let out a small laugh, "i'm just saying those are for pansies or hookers no in between, sweetheart." you looked at him baffled by whatever led him to that conclusion. "so what you're saying is the last hooker you had to hire to suck you off smoked malboro's?" you looked at him, reaching into him jean pocket and stealing his lighter. he scoffed, "you know i miss when you didn't have that fucking mouth on ya." he jabbed his cigarette in your direction, clenching his teeth. you chuckled at how easily he got riled up, he just loved arguing. "okay, old man. i'm going down to the bar, you coming or not?" you took a short drag of the cigarette, not used to the taste of carmy's choice in smokes. "why so i can watch you flirt with some jagoff for drinks all night?" he grimaced, "key word is, free, drinks, richie." he stepped on what was left of his cigarette at the word 'free', nodded, and began walking to his car.
richie shamelessly watched your dress hike up the back of your soft thighs as you leaned over the bar to get closer to the bartender. you had that berzatto gift (curse?) of being so fucked up it was hot. richie always felt a tinge of guilt when he perked up at the sight of your legs beneath a skirt, or your cleavage being hugged by your low shirts and dresses. but he told himself it was always okay to look if he wasn't going to do anything about it. and even if he wanted to, he knew mike would've killed him, or carmen, or tina. you sauntered your way back to the table with a round of shots and two beers. "do you have no shame, sweetheart?" he jokingly asked taking his beer into his own hand. "you tell me" you let out before throwing back a shot. he let out a chuckle, you were really something. as you threw your head back with the shot glass he made out the skin and freckles adorning on your neck beneath the dim light. he noticed how quickly you went back for seconds, and a third, until you were leaning over the table speaking to him in a hushed voice. he had downed the same amount as you had, but he was a 45 year old man who towered over you. "richie?" you spoke in a combination of a whisper and giggle, "how much do you wanna bet i can get that guy over there to get us another free round?". richie wouldn't bet a dollar that the guy wouldn't, seeing as he had his eyes glued to your ass the entire night. maybe it was the alcohol, but the guy's looming gaze felt like a god damn bee buzzing in richie's ear. and you entertaining dick's like him made it ten times worse. "god, i never took you as such a slut." he looked at you, eyebrows raised almost mockingly. your tipsy smile fell, "what the fuck, richie". you got up out of the bar stool, making a squeak against the floor and sped your way out the bar. richie took one last swing off his beer before making his way after you. he found you in back of the bar, only illuminated by the yellowish street lamp a few feet away. you were sniffling, crying in between small hiccups. richie kneeled down in front of you and brought his hand to cup your cheek, "you're lost, sweetie, look at you. getting drunk on weekdays and doing god knows what for a free round of drinks. it's not your fault," your tears stopped falling, entranced with how bright his eyes contrasted against the darkness surrounding you as he grabs the hem of your dress toying with it, "you've got no one to guide you, take care of you. you just need someone to take care you, huh?" his voice dripped with a condescension that made something bubble in the depths of your stomach. you nodded your head against his hand, looking at him through wet lashes, "let me help you, doll" he wiped past your tears with his rough thumb. he knew it was wrong, dirty, but he'd rather it be him than some 20 year old schmuck who would pretend to know you. richie knew you, the darkest parts of you. "can you help me, richie? please" you let out quietly. richie smiled, sickeningly sweet, as he brought his thumb down to swipe past your shiny bottom lip that was sticky with lip gloss. you felt your mouth drop open as if his finger took control of you, "poor thing, you've got no clue what to do with yourself. acting like a slut for anybody when you know who you'll come running to." his thumb entered your parted lips, you closed around him swirling your tongue around and humming against him. he let out a groan, "i'm the only one who can take care of you, okay?". you felt like you were floating, between the alcohol and richie's presence consuming you. you stared at his lips with hazy eyes and let go of his thumb with a 'pop', "kiss me" you barely whispered, "don't be rude, doll." he brought his hand down, holding you by the crevice of your neck, "richie, i need you". he roughly brought his mouth down to yours, letting it devour you. you whined into his mouth as he bit down on your lip. he detached himself, a string of saliva connecting you. he brought his hand down his face, staring at your puffy lips. he knew he was fucked.
pt 2?
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mitskihost · 10 months
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only the bear ONLY THE BEAR COULD HAVE A ROMANTIC TAYLOR SWIFT SONG IN A NON-ROMANTIC SCENE ABOUT A 45 YEAR OLD MAN FINDING PASSION AND PURPOSE IN LIFE AGAIN THIS FUCKING PERSONAL AND EMOTIONAL
i hope richie got to see taylor swift w his daughter i hope he got to see her perform love story
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