#Richie Rich Jackpots

[browsethestacks]

Vintage Comic - Richie Rich Jackpots #015

Pencils: Warren Kremer Inks: Warren Kremer Harvey (Feb-Mar1975)

#Vintage #Art #Illustration #Design #Comics #Harvey #Harvey Comics #Richie Rich Jackpots #Richie Rich #Humor #Humor Comics #Gold #Miner 49er #1975 #1970s #70s

[erintoknow]

everything and nothing

Spiraling - A Fallen Hero: Rebirth Fan-fiction

Funding a one-woman revenge mission isn’t cheap. You might work for free but Rosie doesn’t. Or Mortum. Or Marcie. The list goes on. [Feed Me Diamonds]

[Read on AO3]

It was the incident at Joes that gave you the initial idea: you need money to fund your operation. And where is flush with – conveniently untraceable – funds, but Los Diablos’s criminal underground?

Using Jane’s luck to gamble your way through the casino circuit would be suicide. She’d end up in a ditch or worse. But you don’t need to. You’ve got a state-of-the-art power armor suit.

In a way, it’s a return to the old days, to being Sidestep. You could never manage to hold down a job back then, but the guilt over skimming kept you from being able to afford much of anything. So, you know, occasionally when busting a villain’s lair or rounding up drug dealers, maybe some of their funds were… misplaced. It was either that or starve.

Or worse, admit your situation to somebody and ask for help.

But it wasn’t really stealing, was it? The money was probably wrongfully gotten to begin with. And it’s not like the city paid vigilantes.

Whatever. You were stealing the whole time. You can admit it to yourself now. It doesn’t matter who it was from. It was still theft. You’ve always been a liar and a fraud. Those last moments before throwing yourself out a fourth-story window crystalized it for you. People lauding Sidestep as some sort of ‘hero’ when she was barely any better than the people she beat up. She just stuck to the government approved list of acceptable targets.

But if you did it before, you can do it again. You know who the real villains are, and it’s not Larry Ray selling weed at the corner of Market Street.

Once more now, with feeling.

Check the seal on your helmet. The Rat-King curls around you. Paul Howard Koch’s penthouse is in the heart of the city. Technically not inside the bounds of Los Diablos proper itself. More a richie-rich enclave. Great view, above the air pollution, slightly less likely to die in a horrific one-two earthquake/tsunami punch.

To his neighbors on the floors above and below, Mr. Koch is a reclusive retired businessman who made his fortune in the early days of the chaos following the establishment of the Free Economic Zone over southern California. Back when anything really did fly.

And maybe there’s a truth in that.

Or maybe he’s just a self-hyped boost with magnetic powers with the audacity to hide in plain sight who robbed a bunch of banks and also maybe the Rangers HQ one time and okay okay fine, maybe there’s an element of revenge to tonight, so what?

Start with the small ones.

Work your way up.

Getting inside is easy enough. It reminds you of Marconi’s mansion that way. Amazing how much security is just theatre. Wall? Climb over. Guards? Walk between the patrols. CCTV? Oh, what a shame, the woman watching fell asleep at her desk, and oh, the whole system needs to be rebooted now? Technology these days, tsk tsk.

The building doesn’t even have dampeners.

Closing the door to the camera room, you let your hand linger on the doorknob. It takes some finesse to control the Nanovores this tightly but you’re able to collapse the mechanism. They’ll have to break the door down.

You’ve got two targets today. Koch, and his fortune. You know where Koch is. He’s up in his bedroom, half-asleep watching TV. Play the right notes, and he’ll stay that way until you need him.

So, then, where’s the goods?

It’s been, what, a decade since Pennybags was active. Had a big spree robbing banks, culminating in an attack on Rangers HQ. You were – Sidestep was still pretty new to the scene, but even she knew it took some guts to pants the Rangers like that. And then he was never heard from again.

Almost have to admire the restraint of the man. To realize he peaked and it was time to get out. Can’t say it’s an example you intend to follow.

The penthouse is a split-level deal. Whole lot of empty space for a man who lives alone. The second floor and you find his office. Very fancy looking computer. And of course, there’s the password in the middle drawer. Man’s gotten lax. You plug in a USB stick as you log in. Search through the files. Records, transactions. Looks like Mr. Koch has been busy in his ‘retirement.’ Blackmail material? Not the pile of cash you were aiming for but it’s something to start with. Another crack in the city’s shell. Another point of attack.

One file name catches your attention: Regenerator sale? It’s been awhile since you’ve gotten a lead on that name, and here it is. Just waiting for you. Opening the file and it’s a text document. At first glance there doesn’t seem to be much you don’t already know. PharmaCore, shut down by the government, confiscated, then ‘vanished.’ Oh, here’s something new: an actual description of what it does…

Ugh. There’s no time to stand here and parse all this. You copy everything that looks even remotely promising and move on to the rest of the room.

An oddly spaced bookshelf, by the window, draws your attention. Push the texts away and there’s a safe. Have to smile at that. At least it’s not behind a portrait. The metal melts into dust under the Nanovores and you’re free to reach inside. A gun, some rolled up hundred dollar bills and a collection of black unmarked USB looking bits of plastic and silicon.

Jackpot.

DS Chips. Or ‘Dark Script’ if you want to be wordy. Criminal computer scientists are disappointingly lacking in imagination. Physical bills can be traced by serial number, and digital transactions through bank and credit systems. Cryptocurrencies like these DS chips are the current fashion du jour for avoiding surveillance.

The exchanges aren’t cheap, and Hollow Ground keeps a tight grip on Los Diablos’s little corner. But attach a ‘wallet’ to a specific chip and you carry thousands of dollars in a little box of plastic and silicone smaller than your palm.

That’s business sorted then.

Time for the pleasure half.

When you reach the bedroom, you don’t need to kick the door in. The hinges disintegrate into dust and it falls over, all on it’s own. The crash against the floor breaks Koch out of his stupor. With a cry of alarm he scrambles to his feet, tripping on his own night robe.

“Evening, Pennybags.”

“Who the blazes let you in here?” His heart is pounding. Scenarios running through his mind. Scrambling for an answer. Really? You’d have expected someone a little more paranoid.

You fold your hands behind your back. Nod towards the door. “I did.”

He narrows his eyes, not seeing the humor. Oh well, his loss.

You’re on him before he can even finish his thought about using his power on you. Is enough of the suit metal for it to be a problem? You’re not sure and you’d rather not find out. His head cracks against the wall as you shove him up off the ground with an arm against his neck.

You tap your head. “Don’t even think about it.”

He doesn’t stop struggling. Bare feet kicking against your armor. Up close he doesn’t look as old as you pictured. Bald, sure. But… how old is he? Maybe he just has one of those faces. “You’re–” He wheezes, “you’re going to regret this.”

He’s already plotting your death. Cute. Have to laugh. “I’ll add it to the list.”

...now what are you going to do?

Maybe you should have thought of that before barging in here.

You press against his neck a little harder. Not enough to choke him, but to give you some room to think.

“Alright… Here’s what’s going to happen,” You growl, lacing your words with a telepathic push. An urgency to be followed.

It’s not mind control, not technically.

Just a push.

You’re not even going to make him jump out a window.

–––

You don’t need to hear the stomping of boots in the hallway to know your time is almost up. You drop Koch to the floor. “Consider what we’ve talked about tonight.” Walking over to his desk, you rip off a piece of his day planner and turn it over. Write out the list of instructions.

Three simple suggestions. They’re in his own best interest, really.

You return to him, holding the paper out to take. He hesitates so you reach into his mind and give him a push before stepping away. By the time the riot police show up the scrap paper is gone, inside his pocket. You watch the police fill the other end of the room, shields up and guns drawn. The idiots. They’ll kill Koch if they shoot like this.

You don’t see or sense any of the Rangers.

That’s fine with you, if maybe a little strange. The man in charge steps forward, hand on the trigger finger. “Ghost, you’re under arrest. We have you surrounded.” You don’t need to read his mind to know from the look on his face and the way he’s holding his gun that he’s seriously regretting coming in to work tonight. What does the LDPD think they’re doing? They’re no match for you. Sure, you aren’t immune to bullets, but when has that ever stopped you?

You reach out to the captain’s mind and coax him to lower his gun before he sets off the whole room. “Ghost?” You fake a laugh, the distortion hollowing it out, then say innocently, “Don’t know anyone by that name.”

You crouch down, bracing yourself, placing a hand on the floor. You’ll only have a second before the tension of the situation wakes them up again. “More of a Banshee.” There’s a moment where it seems like nothing is going to happen and then the Nanovores eat a hole in the floor directly beneath you, dropping you down. You grunt, letting the armor absorb most of the shock, though the landing still plays hell on your knees. Going to regret that in the morning.

Above you the room erupts in shouts of alarm and someone fires their gun, setting off another gunshot, then another. You grimace in frustration and, telepathically reach back up to give them a metaphorical shake of the shoulders. You can’t have them killing your new informant.

You break into a run, following your thread to the nearest elevator shaft and breaking the door open with a mixture of force and Nanovores. As you make your escape sliding down the elevator cable you can’t help humming a few bars aloud as you try to steady your nerves.

The chittering of the Rat-King creates an accompaniment in the back of your head.

It’s getting scary just how comfortable with this life you’re starting to get.

Hitting the basement level you barely manage to clear the doors when Lady Argent is on you, all knives and quicksilver. Her claws dig into your arm before you’re able to get her to back off with an uppercut to the head. Argent flexes her jaw and gives you a predatory grin. “I had a feeling I’d find you down here Ghost.”

You study her face, waiting for a sign of any sudden movement. Getting out predicted like this is embarrassing but you need to save the over-analysis for when a woman capable of opening you up like a can-opener isn’t staring you down. You’ve got to reassert control of the situation. You make sure to put an edge to your voice, “It’s Banshee now. If you’re going to play lap dog, at least remember to fill in the incident report form correctly this time.”

Her eyes widen and then Argent leans down, her grin deepening into a scowl. “Ugh. I don’t care,” and she moves in.

Can feel your heart in your throat as the two of you exchange blows. When you try to slide past her, Lady Argent is ready for you, raking claws against the side of your armor, trying to find a point of purchase to pry you apart. Grab her wrist and pull her down on top of you. It’s a stupid move, and you pay for it with razor filings running down your sides but because it’s stupid she doesn’t expect it and you’re able to knee her in the gut and kick her away.

You hate fighting Argent in enclosed spaces like this. It’ll be a game of attrition as to whether you can get away before she can land a clean hit. The two of you are back to circling each other when you bump up against a support pillar.

Maybe….? You mentally check your map.

You’ll need to stall Argent. “So, what was your plan, if I went a different route?” As you talk you rest your hand on the concrete pillar beside you, coaxing the Nanovores to get to work. “Not a good look, hiding in a basement.”

Lady Argent narrows her eyes, “The Handyman’s watching the front door.”

“He’s out of the hospital now?” You sigh. “Are you really that eager to put him back in there?”

There’s a shark-toothed grin and the distinct feeling that she’s sizing you up. “You’re awfully concerned for being the bastard that put him there.”

“Healthcare’s not cheap in this city. Should we hold a fundraiser for him?” You give a theatrical flip of your free hand. “Any suggestions?” Too flippant? You’re never really sure how to approach Argent.

There’s always the temptation; in the back of your head. Let her know who you are, what you’ve done. See if she’ll kill you. But you always end up holding back. Why is that? You don’t understand yourself.

“My only ‘suggestion’ is bringing you to justice.” She keeps her focus trained on you, ready for the moment you make a move. Part of you is surprised she’s still letting you talk. Is backup on the way? That’s not Argent’s style.

“That’s a good thought about justice.” You rap your armored fingers against the pillar, testing to see if it’s hollowed out yet. “But who gets to decide what justice is?”

Would Argent feel bad, if she did kill you? Or would it just make things worse for her? How do you atone for something like this? Is revenge justice? Is it really enough to just make someone hurt?

You used to be sure.

“I liked you better when you didn’t talk.”

You tsk. “Oh and now you’re hurting my feelings?” You can’t keep operating like this. Need to compartmentalize better. Remember the goal. Remember revenge. The damage to Argent is done. Don’t fuck this up and make it be in vain.

Argent eyes your hand, still pressed to the pillar, and growls. “What are you up to?”

“Are you talking about, in general or just right now?” You smirk under your helmet. “Care to find out?” You push hard against the concert. The stone breaks like glass and the ceiling sags from the sudden lack of support, tiles crashing down around you. You jump backwards as the ceiling starts to give in.

No time for any last-minute taunts. You book it for the sewer entrance before Argent can realize the whole building isn’t going to collapse.

In the back of your head, she's still there, watching through the dust.

Smile like a shark.

Reminding.

---

“So, this isn’t what I had planned on talking about; but you’ll never guess what happened last night.” Ortega looks at you, leaning in, an edge to her smile. The two of you are meeting for an early lunch before heading up to the Children’s Hospital again.

You’d half a mind to order something alcoholic, but resisted. Instead, you’re watching Ortega over the rim of your milkshake, straw in your mouth. “Mm?”

“You remember Pennybags?”

You drum the side of the glass with your fingers, making a show of thinking back. “The magnetic guy?”

Ortega nods. “Yeah. Big bank robber, stole a bunch of things from the old Rangers HQ too, remember?”

You nod, grimacing. “Yeah, that was a mess.” Of course you remember. One of the few times you had actually seen Julia really upset. The first time actually. Didn’t know what to do, how to handle it. Ortega was always so confident, so in control of herself and the situation all the time. And there she was, tears and snot yelling at cardboard boxes about failing and… you did the only thing you could think of to do.

“Well, did you see the news this morning?” Ortega’s excitement pulls you back to the present. She leans in further over the table.

You sit back, shaking your head. “I was a little busy last night.” You wince, “This morning. I mean. Uh.” Shit shit shit. “Well. Both? Long night. Working.” You shrug, try to keep your face blank.

Ortega tilts her head, side-eyeing you. “Yeah, I still need to ask you about that job of yours.” She waves it off with a hand. “Anyway, Banshee made a mess again. North end of Beverly Hills this time.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Was anyone hurt?” You bite your lip, looking away. “Did… um. Did anyone else…?”

You know Banshee didn’t kill anyone last night. But…

Don’t breathe, don’t relax until Ortega shakes her head, “One guy had some minor injuries, but that’s it.”

Oh thank god. “That’s a relief.” You match Ortega’s smile, swipe a fry from the basket in front of her.

“I’m more convinced than ever that Marconi’s murder was something else.”

“That’s…” You look away, watch the window, fingers worrying the fry in your hand. Shit. What do you say to that? Fuck fuck fuck. “If you say so.” You look back at her. Need to push this conversation along before she can think about that response. “So, uh, are you just this excited that no one was hurt or did the Rangers finally bring Banshee in, or – or what?”

“No, they got away. Again.” Ortega gives you a curious look, eyes flickering down to the fry in your hand and then back up to your face. With an air of deliberate purpose, you put the fry in your mouth. She politely doesn’t say anything.

“So then…?”

“You’ll never guess.”

You shrug, steal another fry. “Okay.”

She frowns. “Don’t be a spoilsport.”

You keep your face blank, only raising an eyebrow as you silently eat your ill-gotten prize.

“Fine.” She huffs. “The guy Banshee attacked, the one that had to go to the hospital… It’s Pennybags. Bastard was hiding under our noses the whole time.”

“Money’s a pretty good cover.”

“Believe me, I’m wildly aware.” The tired expression on Ortega’s face is only there for a brief second and then it’s gone. “He practically turned himself in. It was… kind of creepy, actually. Reading the report.”

You swallow, goosebumps on the back of your neck. “Creepy?”

“Like he felt… compelled.” Ortega jabs a fry in your direction. “You’re the expert, what do you think? Can telepathy force a confession like that?”

“Ortega…” You make yourself meet her eyes. “You’re as much of an expert as me, at uh, at this point. M–maybe more.”

“Maybe.” She meets your gaze. “But I want to know what you think.”

Goddamnit, why does she keep doing this?

You focus on the basket of fries instead, it’s safer. “It’s… possible.” You concede. Would it be better to lie? It already feels like you’re lying about so much. It’s better to minimize the amount of bullshit you have to keep track of. “How are you… sure it’s a confession, and not like… uh, a delusion or something? False suggestion?”

“Yeah, that’s fair. That was my first assumption but uh…” She lowers her voice. “We uh, we found some stuff when searching the apartment. The signed Marshall Hood figure Pennybags stole actually…”

“Oh.” You say. You hadn’t expected her to actually talk about this.

“I… don’t really have a lot left of him. I thought I’d lost that one for good.”

“I remember.” You remember seeing the front door of its hinges, running through wrecked room after room, finding an alarmingly sobbing Ortega.

The first time you willingly hugged someone.

“There’s maybe five people who know about that figure, Ari, and two of them are dead now.” Ortega’s voice is quiet, her hand on the table balled into a fist.

“Do…” You fish for an idea, “do you think they’re trying to send you a message?”

Ortega looks you straight in the face, half-eaten hamburger now completely forgotten. You wish she wouldn’t. “A message? For what?”

You look back, willing yourself not to look away, not to look guilty. “I don’t know… I mean, it’s no secret you and Hood were close, is it?”

The look on Ortega’s face only intensifies. “You think maybe it was a threat?”

Your face blanches, and you shake your head. This is not at all going how you thought it would. “I’m not in this game anymore, remember?” You shrug your shoulders theatrically, “for all I know it could be a love letter.” You freeze. Face threatening warmth. Oh god. What the fuck, Ariadne?

The absurdity of the idea gets a laugh out of Ortega and you both relax. “Mierda,” she shakes her head. “That’s a hell of a way to send a letter.”

You steal another fry. She lets you.

#fallen hero: rebirth #fallen hero fanfic #fanfiction #fhr/Ariadne

[gazebosarebologna]

The One Where Ben Proposes

Summary: Ben proposes, and Beverly wonders if she’s good enough for him

Words: 449

Tags @richiardtozier

A/N: This is just the intro to a series I’m thinking about doing.

Ben proposed, and she said yes.

She wants to be happy, she truly, truly does.

It was such a spare of the moment thing. She’s not sure if she’s ready or not.

But she says yes anyway.

It’s three in the morning, and she can’t sleep. She decides to call the one person who she would always go to.

“Beverly? It’s three in the morning, is everything okay?” Richie asks on over his cell.

There’s a long pause before anyone speaks again.

Richie sighs.

“I can’t help if you don’t talk to me, Bev,” He states.

“Ben proposed,” She blurts out.

This all feels wrong. She feels wrong.

“Bev, that’s terrific news!”

She sighs. She’s not unhappy by any means. But there’s something lingering that she can’t quite explain.

Richie senses this. “You’re not happy? Bev, you hit the jackpot with Ben. He’s a great guy,”

Beverly shakes her head.

“Ben’s not the problem,” She remarks.

Richie finally cracks a small smile as she slowly opens up to him. “Alright, that’s a start. C’mon, Bev. It’s going to be okay. You can talk to me,”

Beverly takes a shakey breath. “H-How do you know?”

“Beverly listen to me,” Richie states in a serious tone. “I know you’ve been through awful situations. I know your past relationship was a disaster,” He tries.

Beverly laughs through her tears. “Thanks Rich,”

“You know what I mean. But I do know that Ben is in no way like your dad, or Tom. He loves you. Hell, we all love you, Bev. It’ll be okay,” He reassures her.

She chokes down a few tears before she speaks. “I love you guys too. But I’m so fucked up that I’m not sure I could go through with this,” She admits to him.

“You know Ben will take his time with you. Won’t make you rush into anything until you’re absolutely sure. You said yes” He’s suddenly cut off.

“I know that but”

Now it’s his turn to cut her off.

“Bev, you said yes. That doesn’t mean you two have to get married tomorrow. Or even next year. If he can wait twenty-seven years, he can wait a year or two until you’re ready,” He says.

Beverly giggles. “Thanks, Rich. This really means a lot. You always know what to say,”

Richie smiles. “I’m always here for you, Bev. It’ll be okay. Now, try and get some sleep,” He states.

“I’ll do my best, Rich. Sorry I woke you up,” She apologizes.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s like when we were kids. You’re always welcome to call anytime. Goodnight, Bev,” He tells her.

“Goodnight, Rich,”

After that, she’s more reassured than ever about her decision.

#my writing #beverly marsh #richie tozier #benverly #beverly and richie are best friends fight me

[lostloserrr]

Luck of a Loser: Chapter 1

The Losers Club had many traditions, and as they grew older, more and more were added. What started as habits became unspoken promises between them that were both essential and assumed by all 7 of them. From the inaugural first day of Summer being spent at the Quarry, to meeting for breakfast before their first day back at school. 

There was one tradition, when enacted upon for the final time, that changed everything. 

-------------------------

The Losers were ringing in the New Year as they always did, in their clubhouse. This year was different as they’d challenged each other to swipe a bottle of booze from their respective parents for an extra special celebration. Eddie had reluctantly agreed, hoping he’d be able to find something that wouldn’t be missed by the watchful eye of his mother. He hit the jackpot when he found a dusty, forgotten bottle of sherry that was hidden at the back of a cupboard. The rest of the group had managed to collate a variety of different bottles, some half full, some not yet opened.

“Nice going guys! We have a respectable little bar going here!” Richie beamed as he flipped a plastic cup in the air, catching it expertly. “What’s your poison?” he asked Eddie, leaning on the makeshift bar looking a little too much like a seasoned bartender. 

“Uhhh I dunno, something sweet?” Eddie replied, he’d drunk alcohol before but only beer. He wasn’t a fan of the bitter taste that everyone seemed to love so much, but he was feeling the buzz of excitement in the air and was keen to join in. 

“Naturally” Richie winked and began mixing various different spirits - he was moving so quickly Eddie could barely work out what he was adding. A splash of rum - provided by Ben, a tipple of the gin Stan brought and a generous drop of Bev’s tequila. It was when he went to add a shot of the cheap vodka Richie himself had contributed, that Eddie intervened. 

“Whoa Rich are you trying to kill me? How strong is that?! I said SWEET” Eddie began to rant, Richie grinned and winked again “Trust me, Eds”. Eddie looked unamused but his curiosity and the fact that he truly did trust his friend kept him from protesting further. Richie topped off the potion with a can of Diet Coke, carefully tilting the cup as he poured to prevent it from fizzing over. He grabbed a straw and placed it in the drink with a flourish before holding it out to Eddie. 

Eddie hesitantly took the cup from him and placed his lips around the straw. He took a sip, expecting the bitter flavours of the spirits to burn his tongue, to his surprise he could barely taste any alcohol at all and the sweet flavours coated his taste buds as he swallowed. 

“H-how did you do that? There must be so much booze in this but I can barely taste it” Eddie asked dumbfounded, eagerly taking another sip. 

“Easy there Spaghetti - there is! I just know you don’t like the strong stuff much so I made you an Eds-friendly cocktail” Richie’s eyes didn’t completely meet Eddie’s as he said this, and he kept his hands busy by fixing himself a drink. 

Eddie didn’t recall ever sharing this fact with his friend, and became conscious that he was too easy to read. If his friends could figure out details like his preference in beverage without him telling them, what else had they deciphered? He had always had very little control over his face when emotions surfaced, he could put a mask on or paper a smile on his lips when required, but it took concentration. If he was caught off guard or forgot himself, his face disobeyed him and told the world how he really felt in that moment. Eddie was eased out of his reverie by Richie still jabbering on as he worked.  “I’m limiting you to two so make the most of it, they’re stronger than you realise and I don’t want you getting too out of it”

Eddie rolled his eyes at this. It wasn’t unusual for Richie to says stuff like this to him. Richie was by far the most irresponsible of the Losers, at times even reckless, but when it came to Eddie he was different. He was cautious, protective and caring in ways he never was when it came to his own wellbeing.

“Whatever Trashmouth, you’re just worried that after a few drinks I���ll be the life of the party and steal all of the attention away from you" 

“Eds you wound me” Richie feigned offence by taking in a shocked gasp and placing his hand on his chest “I’ve gotta see this party-animal Spaghetti you’ve got hidden in there, you’ve been holding out on us”. His eyes shone with impish pleasure as they always did when he was teasing his best friend. His expression changed as he seemed to realise something, as though a penny had finally dropped. Eddie was quick to notice and said “What’s wrong?” Eddie asked, concern coating his newly broken voice. 

“Did no one notice?” Richie said calmly, and at this he had the rest of the Loser’s attention.

“What?” Ben chimed in, looking around the clubhouse cautiously expecting something to be out of place. Bill’s stance had changed instinctively to defensive at the change in tension in the room. 

Richie backed slowly away from the bar, his friend’s bodies turning to watch him as he did so, increasingly on edge at this shift in behaviour. 

Richie suddenly broke into his biggest shit-eating grin and leapt back into the vacant hammock “That you guys were so focused on getting shitfaced no one called the best spot in the clubhouse!” 

The collective groan from his friends fueled Richie as much as their protests of “Fucking Trashmouth” and “You asshole, you had me worried” did. He sat triumphantly swinging in his sneakily conquered throne. He turned his face to Eddie, who was still sipping his new favourite drink and smiling smugly, “What are you so happy about Eds? You don’t think I’m gonna share do you?”

“Oh I think you might consider making space for me” Eddie laughed. He picked up Richie’s abandoned cup from the bar, gently shaking it in his direction, “You forgot something”.

“Fuuuuuck” Richie cursed, but with very little persuasion he made a small amount of room on the hammock and tapped the fabric, inviting him to join him “Fine, but bring supplies with you as I don’t plan on moving until next year.” 

Eddie scoffed at the awful New Years Eve joke, but obliged. Ignoring the beer that Bill had brought and he grabbed the whisky Mike had stolen from his dad and a couple more cans of Diet Coke. He placed them on the floor, within easy reach of Richie and started to gently lower himself into the other side of the hammock.

“There’s no graceful way to get in a hammock Eds”, Richie teased and pulled his friend into place, causing the fabric to swing steadily. Eddie blushed and adjusted his position carefully before gently swiping his socked foot into Richie's face. "Asshole" Eddie mumbled, but he leaned back, feeling content with the softly swinging motion, the warmth from his friend beside him and the excitement of possibility rippling through his body. 

He wasn't sure if it was the alcohol, or the anticipation that always filled the air this time of year, but he was hopeful that maybe this year, for the first time, he may receive a kiss at midnight.

__________________________

Ok so this is my first fic so any feedback is much appreciated! I’ve been reading all the amazing feedback here and on AO3 and the decline in Reddie content has spurred me on to write my own! 

Also I’m fairly new to Tumblr so any tips would be appreciated!

#reddie #firstfic #begentle #losers club #the losers club #i am a loser #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier

[reddieao3feed]

jackpot

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/31MuEBF

by inevitabletony

“No, Rich, I’m your husband.”

“You’re my husband?” Richie asked in disbelief, struggling to push himself up to sit upright, “Holy shit. How the fuck did I manage that. Are you a model? You look like a- like a fuckin’ model.”

aka: richie wakes up from surgery and hits on his husband

Words: 420, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: IT - Stephen King, IT (Movies - Muschietti)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak

Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier

Additional Tags: Domestic, temporary memory loss, (not in the slightest bit angsty), Fluff, Post-IT Chapter Two (2019)

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/31MuEBF

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #reddie #it (2017) #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak

[spicelupin-blog]

F.Weasley: High-Class

Fred Weasley. Golden Trio Era.

Summary: Fred Weasley hates the upper-class pureblood society, yet at his first society ball he meets a person he finds fascinating.

Warning: None.

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Fred Weasley  x Reader

Words: 1958

To say Fred Weasley wasn’t the least bit judgmental was a bold-faced lie. Despite his belief that all wizards are equal and muggles are boring but alright, he still put his nose up to the filthy rich pureblood wizards. He, being a pureblood himself, saw nothing wrong with any blood status but the way people like Malfoys treated people made him hate that side of wizarding society.

Unlike many other pureblood families, the Weasleys were never invited to fancy Christmas balls at Malfoy Manor and Molly had never received an invitation to join Nancy Parkinson’s elite book club. They were outsiders in the pureblood world, and frankly, Fred was just fine with that. He had no desire to dress up in ridiculous dress robes and have to make small talk to with Lucius Malfoy. He was perfectly content with spending Christmas Eve with the Weasley lot in the toast Burrow, slipping puking pastels into Percy’s tea and playing Quidditch with his brothers and sister.

But Fred couldn’t be invisible to the world of wealth forever. He learned that when he and George’s joke shop began picking up steam. Soon, they were becoming wealthy themselves and other people were noticing too.

At the beginning of December, a majestic eagle owl flew into their shared apartment. It landed right on George’s stack of pancakes, making the wizard groan and roll his eyes before snatching the envelope from the owl’s beak.

“Bloody bird,” Fred heard George grumbled as the owl ate some of the crumbling pancakes by his talons. The bird, happy with its snack soared off through the open window it entered through.

Fred grabbed his cup of coffee, joining his brother at the table. After gulping down a sip of the hot liquid, he asked, “Who’s it from?”

“Can’t be from mum, that’s for sure.” George quipped, referencing their family owl, Erol and his almost non-existent ability to fly in a straight line.

“I don’t know, maybe Erol beefed up when we left.” Fred joked.

George made a noise of agreement before tearing open the letter. He read through it, his face twisting into an array of emotions. Confused, then annoyed, then conflicted, and then finally a bit cheeky.

Fred, who was watching his brother closely, inquired, “What does it say?”

He grinned at Fred, tossing the thick parchment his way. “We are invited to a Christmas ball.”

Fred raised a skeptic eyebrow, reading the letter quickly.

Dear Mr. Fred and George Weasley,

We at Malfoy Manor would like the invite you to attend our annual Christmas ball. It will a winter wonderland, a night filled with banter from the elite of the wizarding world.

Dress Code: Black Tie/Formal and Strict.

We Hope To See You There,

The Malfoy Family

“Mental, absolutely mental,” Fred spoke, a look of amusement on his face. This was hilarious to him. The Malfoys who have looked down on the Weasleys for decades are inviting them to their party. Wait until the rest of the family heard.

“I know right,” George laughed, casting a spell on his pancakes to make them less squashed again. “But we’re going right?”

Fred choked on his coffee, “What?”

“We’ll be meeting possible investors. All the richest wizard folk show up to these things. Plus, it will make us prominent. If we want to be successful then we need to hang out with the successful people. It’s like a ball in chain effect.” George explained around his bite of pancake.

“Or like an airborne illness,” Fred said, shaking his head. “I don’t want to be infected by those people.”

“We’re not being infected!” George declared. “We’re mingling.”

“I don’t want to mingle with the Malfoys. And neither do you.” Fred pointed out.

George sighed, “Fine. We won’t mingle with the Malfoys. We’ll stop by and thank them for inviting us to their gaudy party and then make our way to the richy-rich people. We leave there after eating some lobster and getting a few investors interested. Barely any Malfoy ‘illness’ poisoning our way of life.”

Fred pondered it for a minute before letting out a frustrated exhale. “Fine.” George gave his twin a big grin. Fred grinned back saying, “You had me at lobster and money.”

~~~

“You don’t look nearly as good as me.” Fred joked and he saw his twin wearing the same dress robes as him, only in dark brown.

George snorted and rolled his eyes. “I think I look rather dapper, actually. The brown matches my eyes.”

Fred chuckled, straightening the collar of his own black attire. “Come on, Gred, we have a ball to attend.”

Fred and George grabbed their wands, apparating outside of Malfoy Manor. The usually dark and domineering looking mansion was decorated with hundreds of lights and the hedges were cut into different Christmas symbols. When they stepped inside, they were greeted by servants taking cloaks and coats from the wizards and witches arriving. The ceiling was cluttered by floating candles, much like the enchanted ones in the Great Hall in Hogwarts. Only these were scented, filling the room with gingerbread and pine trees.

They shook the Malfoys hands, who were greeting their guests by the door. Even Draco, who scowled at the twins, forcing a smile on his face to be hospitable.

“Welcome.” Draco greeted through gritted teeth.

“Nice to see you, Malfoy,” George growled to the blond boy.

“Merry Christmas,” Fred added in passing, a frown etched onto his face.

“Same to you both.” Draco darkly smiled, then turned to smile at an incoming plump middle-aged witch.

Fred and George escaped the building crowd in the entrance hall, entering the large ballroom nearby. The room was immaculate. The large chandelier in the center was decorated with pine branches and hanging mistletoe. There was a long table with a lacy white tablecloth on it, covered with a display of elegant food, mostly notably lobster.

“Jackpot,” George whispered before sauntering off to feast on some of the crustacea, leaving Fred behind.

Fred stuck to the wall of the ballroom, trying to avoid bumping into people and knowing no one other than George, who was pleasantly conversing with a fat wizard by the food table.

To his right, a pretty witch appeared next to him. She leaned on the wall with heavy exhale, looking a bit winded.

“Are you okay?” Asked Fred, hoping to make some kind of conversation instead of looking like some antisocial git.

The girl looked over at him, flashing him a breathtaking smile. “Just a bit winded.”

“Why is that?” Fred inquired, not wanting to pry but having no choice if he wanted to have any kind of a conversation.

“I’ve been dancing all night.” She told him, sounding exacerbated.

Fred raised his eyebrow. “Is that bad…?” He trailed off.

“Exhausting.” She corrected. “My mother,” She gestured to a pretty older woman talking to a group of distinguished magical people. “She’s trying to set me up with someone but she won’t admit it. She keeps throwing different guys my way like I’ll fall in love tonight.”

“Pushy mums can’t be fun.” Fred agreed.

“Not at all.” She agreed. “Sorry, I didn’t ask your name, Mr…?”

“Fred Weasley. Just Fred, if you don’t mind. I don’t think formalities apply when we’re around the same age.” Fred smiled, reaching out a hand.

She took it, shaking it daintily. “In my world, formalities always apply. I’m Y/N Y/L/N. Just Y/N works for me as well.”

“It’s very nice to meet you Y/N,” Fred said, still holding her hand in his large one.

Y/N smiled up at him, then glanced over her shoulder. She turned back to him, a small frown on her face. “My mother is watching us.”

Fred looked over in the direction Y/N had and saw the women observing them carefully. She didn’t seem upset by the scene, actually, she looked almost happy.

“I think your mother is enjoying the show,” Fred smirked.

“Why don’t we take the show outside then? Unfortunately for her, this show is private.” Y/N remarked, tugging Fred by their connected hand out of the ballroom.

Y/N grabbed her cloak from the servant by the door and dragged Fred to a random balcony overlooking the garden below. There were even enchanted light tangled into the bushes there, making the ground below look like a night sky. Y/N went to a stone bench by the railing, sitting down and patting the place next to her.

“So, Fred Weasley,” Y/N began as Fred sat next to her. “Why were you attached to the wall all night?”

“I didn’t want to come here. My brother, George made me. He said it would be a good business opportunity.”

“So you’re a businessman? What is your company?” Y/N asked.

“Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. It’s in Diagon Alley,” Fred told her, feeling the pride that always filled him when talking about his business.

“I’ve been there before. I have a cousin who loves that kind of pranking stuff and I got him his birthday present there. The er, Sneaking Snackbox-”

“Skiving Snackbox,” Fred corrected. “One of my personal favorites. You have good present taste.”

Y/N softly laughed at that, “I suppose so.”

“You should come by sometime. I’ll give you a tour and if you’re lucky I might even throw in some free samples.” Fred said with a wiggle of his eyebrows that made Y/N giggle hysterically.

“You’re a strange man, Fred.” Y/N stated as she giggled.

“Strange like Dumbledore or strange like Snape,” Fred questioned, trying to be serious but the glint in his eye betrayed him.

Y/N scrunched up her nose. “I wouldn’t be talking to you if you were strange like Snape.” She shook her head. “Definitely Dumbledore. I can see you with a white beard and everything.”

“Been there, done that.” Fred shrugged, remembering the incident with the goblet of fire.

“Oh, I have to hear that story.” Y/N demanded, leaning forward in excitement.

By the end of the story of how Fred and George contracted long white beards, Y/N was howling with laughter, leaning on Fred for support.

“You and your brother are ridiculous.” Y/N laughed, resting her head on Fred’s shoulder.

“Yes, yes but that ridiculousness made some amazing stories.” Fred nodded, taking in the sound of Y/N laughter. He was desperate to hear that sound over and over again.

“That I cannot deny.” Y/N giggled, looking up at Fred.

The two stared at each other, just taking in each other’s eye colors, the curve of the other’s cheekbones, the plumpness of the other’s lips. Soon, Y/N’s lips were all Fred could think about as he leaned in closer and closer, finally pressing his own to hers. The kiss was brief, as a loud person walked by the entrance of the balcony, making them jump away in fright. When they were both back in their normal state of mind, they shyly looked at each other.

“I’m sorry…” Fred apologized. He wasn’t sure if that was a very gentlemanly thing to do. He had never been this intimate with such an upper-class girl before. He wasn’t sure if there was a way of doing things that he wasn’t aware of. What if he had to ask her mother for permission before kissing her? Or kissing was against the rules until they were technically together. Fred wouldn’t mind being with her one bit, but in the meantime, he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable.

“About what?” Y/N quipped, cocking her head. “I liked that a lot, actually. In fact, I wouldn’t mind another.”

Fred’s concern wiped off his face, and he grinned. “Oh really?” He teased. “Well, I might be of a lower class but even we know to never keep a lady waiting.”

“So don’t.”

Masterlist

#fred weasley #fred #weasley #fred weasley scenario #fred weasley oneshot #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley angst #fred weasley smut #harry potter #harry potter scenario #harry potter imagine #harry potter oneshot #harry potter scenarios #hp #harry potter moodboard #fluff #smut #angst #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley aesthetic #fred weasley moodboard #weasley twins #weasley x reader #spicelupin #george weasley

[mamaimpala67]

Supernatural Preferences - How You Met

Dean Winchester

You sighed as you pressed your lips against the edge of the glass, the sour beer slowly running down your throat, soothing you to its best abilities. After a horrid, yet successful, vampire hunt, you decided to let your muscles loose and get some alcohol in your system at your favorite hometown bar. Richard - the owner of the bar and one of your closest friends since grade school - gladly provided you with free drinks, as long as you didn’t go over a certain limit, after a rough hunt. That night was no different, except for the fact that the alcohol was already getting to you, sending a small buzzing sensation through your body.

You drank the liquid again, your - third - glass halfway empty. Richard - a man with thirty-two years on him even though he doesn’t look a day over twenty-five - walked over, a cloth in hand as be began wiping the bar off. His pale blue eyes stared at you as you cradled the beer like it was a child to you. Richard licked his lips and sighed.

“The next beer won’t be on the house (Y/N).” He told you, switching the cloth to his other hand.

You shrugged your sore shoulders and drank. “I don’t care. I have cash.” You replied, not even making eye contact with your friend.

Rich leaned again the bar in front of you, using his elbows for support. “I don’t think you should have any more after this (Y/N). I worry about your health and I know your limit. I’ve seen you when you’re piss-ass drunk and you ain’t pretty.”

The small smirk appeared on your lips as you made eye contact with Richard. “Thanks for worrying about me Richy.” You said, drinking the rest of the beer that was in the glass before slamming it down on the bar. “More please.”

Richard dropped his head onto the bar, an irritated sigh falling from his lips as he stood straight up again and grabbed your glass, pressing it against his chest. “What about the money?” He asked.

“How much is it going to cost to get it filled to the top?” You asked with a quirked brow.

“For you, sweetheart, it’s $3.50.” He said, one hand firmly on his hip.

You took four dollars out of your wallet and placed it on the bar. “Keep the change.” You responded as Richard took the money and rolled his eyes, walking away from you. He refilled your glass and set it down in front of you, which you thanked him for and began to drink again.

The intoxication was getting stronger by the end of your fourth glass. Richard had decided to stop you there, completely worried about your health and all too embarrassed to even think about what you would do if you had gotten drunk. So Richard took your glass away, refusing to serve you anything else and telling his other bartenders to do the same.

“Just stay there (Y/N),” Richard commanded with a pointing finger. “I’ll just finish serving the people here and I’ll be ready to take you home.”

You stared at Richard blankly before nodding your head and placing it on top of your crossed arms on the bar. You inhaled sharply as you pushed your chair back to get a bit more comfortable. You weren’t intoxicated, not even close, but the buzz from the alcohol was disrupting your usually stellar brain signals. You weren’t as focused as you usually were. That was why you didn’t notice the man standing next to you until he had placed a hand on your shoulder, getting your attention as you shot up and stared at him.

He was a rather handsome character. A tall man with deep green eyes, a smirk on his full lips, and dark freckles decorating his cheeks and nose - even they were easily seen by you in the dimly lit bar. He had short, spiky, sandy hair and an amazing build. You licked your lips and stared into his eyes.

“Why, hello there sweetheart.” He winked.

You rolled your eyes and placed your cheek in the palm of your hand and your elbow on the bar. “What do you want?” You asked, rather annoyed at the individual who disrupted your time.

“I just wanted to come over and say ‘hello’ to a beautiful woman.” The man replied. “I’m Dean, Dean Winchester.”

Your ears perked up as well as your head. Despite your state, your mind was easily able to recognize that name. You turned and sent a small glare towards the tall Winchester. “You don’t say.” You said with a cocked brow. “You’re a lot...different than I imagined.” You weren’t lying. In all actuality, you thought he was even more handsome in person.

Dean furrowed his brows. “You’ve...heard of me before?” He asked.

You gave a small nod. “Yeah,” You went to grab the glass that wasn’t there and you sighed. “Every hunter knows your name.”

Dean raised his eyebrows. “So you’re a hunter?”

“Yep.” You popped your ‘p’. You looked over at the other side of the bar for Richard, spotting him, you waited until his eyes were on you, then you waved him over.

“Those things that...other hunters have said about me, I hope they’re only good things. Things like: my ability to please women?” Dean stalked over and leaned against the bar. You looked over at him, eyes hooded. Dean winked at you, the smirk on his face annoying.

When you heard Richard near you, you turned to him. “Richy, I wanna go home.” You said, lifting your brows.

Richard gazed between you and Dean and sighed heavily. “I’ll be right there.” Richard patted you on the arm. “Let me just grab my jacket.” He then vanished from sight.

“Aw, come on sweetheart.” Dean smirked, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Why don’t you let me take you home?”

You stared at Dean with a strong poker face before glancing down at his hand that was perched on your shoulder. Calmly and slowly, you reached up, wrapping your fingers around his wrist before quickly going into motion. You twisted Dean’s arm behind him and shoved his shoulder against the wooden bar. You leaned down close to Dean’s ear.

“Don’t you dare put a hand on me. Like I told you: I’m a hunter. I can defend myself from anything, including men like you.” You growled out. “And the name’s (Y/N)(L/N).”

Richard was the one that pulled you off of Dean, allowing the hunter to stand. You smoothed out your shirt before locking your arm with Richard’s. Before you began walking away, you turned your head to look at Dean one last time.

“Ciao, Dean Winchester. I hope we meet again under much better circumstances.” You gave a small wave with your fingers before turning away from him and walking out of the bar, Richard by your side.

Sam Winchester

Being surrounded by your favorite authors was the most enjoyable thing, in your own opinion. Stephen King, Margaret Mitchell, J.K Rowling, Charles Dickens, the list could have gone on forever. The library environment was quiet, soothing, peaceful. It was everything that you loved being around and more.

As you skimmed through the endless selection of books that you have read more than once, you pouted. It had been a while since a new work of literature had been welcomed to the library and, in that case, your brain. A part of you figured that you would just buy some more books from Amazon or go to a different library to see if they had a contrasting variety of choices.

But you changed your mind when you laid your eyes on a mysterious book.

There was a book that was perched on the top shelf. It looked to be brand new. You had never seen, read, or even heard of the book. You smiled to yourself. Jackpot.

As you went to reach up for it, you got on your toes, using the other shelves as support. However, your height was not your friend at that moment in time. Your fingertips barely brushed the spine of the book and, when they did, the book just got pushed back further than it already was. Once it was pushed back far enough to where you couldn’t even reach it, you planted both of your feet on the ground firmly and crossed your arms over your chest, pouting like a five-year-old would if they weren’t allowed to have any candy after dinner.

After calming your irritation down with deep breathes, you attempted once more to retrieve the unknown novel. Each time you tried to reach for it, though, you were still unsuccessful. You weren’t giving up though.

About three minutes passed of you doing nothing but trying to reach the paperback and you, honestly, felt like giving up. That was, until a large hand reached above you, grabbing the story and bringing it down to your hands. You gripped the book in your hands and brought it down to your chest, turning to get a look at the person who assisted you. A light pink tint appeared on your face when you got a look at the character.

The person was male. He was tall, extremely tall, with shaggy brown hair. His large brown eyes as well as his thin lips smiled down at you. His build was strong and his jawline was solid.

You looked down at the floor. “Thanks.” You mumbled under your breath timidly.

“No problem.” The man told you. “You looked really desperate to get that book, so I thought I’d help you.” He explained, rubbing the back of his neck.

You nodded. “Yeah. This is the one book I haven’t read out of all these yet.” You responded in a, sort of, confident tone.

“Oh wow.” The man seemed rather surprised as he shifted where he stood. “Well, since it seems that you know this place, almost, by heart, then maybe you can show me where a couple books might be?”

You nodded, putting your hands down in front of you, holding the book still by its spine. “Sure, what is it you’re looking for?” The man was right, you did know the library by heart. You’d only been there about one thousand times. Or was it one thousand and one?

“I’m looking for books about...monsters, ancient gods…” He began.

You cocked a brow. “You mean...like...lore?” You asked, cocking your head to the side. The man nodded. You thought about it for a couple seconds before you gestured towards yourself. “Follow me.” You said, turning around. The man followed behind you as you went down several aisles before turning down one. You skimmed over the titles of the books as the man stood next to you, looking at the books you were looking at as well. “This should be it.” You responded with a small smile.

The man grabbed one of the books and skimmed over the first page of the one he had chosen. He smiled and turned towards you. “Great, thank you.” He flashed a shiny white smile in your general direction.

“No problem. Thank you for getting the book again.”

“That was no big deal.” He replied. “I’m Sam. Sam Winchester.” Sam held out his hand for you to take.

You gently shook it with a smile plastered on your face. “(Y/N)(L/N). It’s nice to meet you Sam.” You replied, immediately retracting your hand after the handshake and placing it on your book again.

“It’s wonderful to meet you (Y/N).” Sam said, his white teeth showing.

“It’s been wonderful meeting you too Sam.” You said, giving a small nod before you timidly turned away from him and began walking the other direction.

You only glanced back once to see Sam, book open in his hand, reading the text, hand placed gently on his chin as it seemed he was deep in thought. Your cheeks turned red as you walked to the front desk, checked out your newly found masterpiece, and left the library.

Castiel Novak

You couldn’t see anything - clearly that was. Your eyes were foggy, blinded by the sweat and tears that fell down your face as you limped your way through the alleyway. Blood covered your hunting clothes, still doing so as the gash on the left side of your body continued pouring the dark, red irony liquid. A werewolf had slashed your side after a rookie mistake on your part - your swing was too wide, something that you hadn’t done in years and the inaccuracy costed you that time.

The monster was still chasing you. You could hear the heavy footsteps over the ringing that continued to echo in your ears. Huffs fell from your lips as you looked behind you, silver knife gripped as tight as it could in your hand with the little amount of strength you had left in you. The werewolf wasn’t there, but you knew it was following you, so you turned around, one hand on the wound and one hand holding up the knife at the ready. You continued to back up at a slow, steady pace as you kept your eyes glued to the location behind you.

It wasn’t long before something caught on your foot - something metal to be exact - sending you falling on your rear with a thud. You groaned and cried out in pain, gripping the wound tighter as you used one elbow to back yourself up against one of the brick buildings while the other hand held up the knife once again. Once your back was fully pressed against the cold wall, your arms fell at your side and your body slouched. You just sat there, head lolled to the side and your eyes closed. Small huffs fell from your mouth as it hung open.

You had given up completely.

You had lost all of the strength that you had inside of you and you were awaiting your appending death as you heard the heavy, ground-shaking footsteps that proceeded down the alley. Your heart began to race as the footsteps got heavier and closer. All of a sudden, they stopped. After a while of silence, a loud thud was heard. Your heart lept into your throat as the sound echoed throughout the narrow way.

You did your best to lift your head up and open your eyes. Your eyes were blurrier than they had been before you closed them. You groaned once you noticed a rather large figure wandering towards you, the only colors you were able to make out were tan, black, and white. You used the rest of the strength in your body to lift your arm up towards the unidentified figure, ready to spend the last minutes of your life fighting.

“Stay...back…” You coughed out.

The figure never said anything. All he did was place a rough hand softly on your outstretched hand, pushing it down so that it was lowered down to your side. You groaned out in pain as you shifted in your spot. You blinked rapidly, bringing up your hand which was covered in blood and wiped your eyes. Finally, when you opened up your eyes, you saw a male, face extremely close to you.

He was handsome, and it was at that moment that you realized that you were not going to be able to focus on anything but him. All you would be able to do is keep your eyes attached to him and drink in every detail he had. He had the most beautiful ocean blue eyes, thin lips, and messy dark hair. The person’s eyes were filled with seriousness and concentration. It amazed you to say the least.

Fear filled you like a flood as your eyes widened, staring at the man. He stared at you with a look of confusion that replaced his once serious expression, his head cocked to the side. The man reached up and moved a piece of your hair out of your face. You instinctively flinched, doing your best to back away from the stranger.

“You’re hurt.” The man said. His voice was deep and gravely.

You did nothing but cough in the other direction. The man pressed his index and middle finger against your forehead. Suddenly, it felt like a magic anomaly was passing through your body. Everything that hurt, no longer did so. You felt the blood stop flowing from your side and your eyes were refocused. You gasped as you felt your entire body go numb.

You opened your (e/c) eyes and looked at the man. He stood up straight, his entire body towering over you. Your breathing had began to quicken and it wasn’t long before your eyes rolled into the back of your head and you had passed out.

John Winchester

You were scheduled to take care of a werewolf in the middle of the night at a small cabin in the middle of nowhere. You had planned that hunt for days. Little did you know that the fight was almost over when you had arrived at the cabin. The door was already busted open and halfway off the hinges. You were quite confused at the state of the building, remembering from when you examined it earlier in the day that it was in perfect condition. You held your Magnum Revolver tight with both hands firmly placed on the weapon as you stalked your way to the house.

Once you got to the door, you slowly peeked inside. It was completely trashed. Curtains were ripped to shreds, furniture was everywhere, and there were bloodstains all over the floor. You didn’t know if another hunter had gotten there before you and taken out the beast or if the werewolf had gotten, yet, another victim. Your questions were answered when you heard a deep growl from the far corner of the room accompanied by a deep, human-like groan.

You whipped around the corner, gun held up and aiming at the first thing you came in contact with. The werewolf. The sound of you cocking your gun caused the werewolf to freeze where it stood. It turned itself around so you were able to make out the small details from the pale moonlight that shone through one of the small, broken windows. However, all it took was for you to see the sharp teeth and dark eyes before pulling the trigger on your gun, the silver bullet soaring through the air and straight through the brain of the murderer. The werewolf’s eyes rolled into the back of it’s head as its entire body went limp and it collapsed to the stained wooden floor.

Your skin was pale as you cautiously lowered your arms a bit, staring at the dark shadowy figure that the werewolf had been blocking from your eyesight. You took one small step forward after the other, watching the figure move and listening to it cough violently. Again, you lifted your arms, aiming the pistol at the figure.

“Who are you?” You asked, you voice strong and stern. The figure didn’t answer as it wobbled around a bit, attempting to stand on it’s feet. You swallowed the lump in your throat, keeping the grip on the weapon strong. “I said, who are you? Or rather what are you?” You repeated.

Just at the shadow stood up in its place, it spoke. “I’m human.” The voice was male, and gruff. Deep, and scratchy.

You narrowed your eyes as you backed up, not letting your guard down nor the gun. “Step into the light. Let me see your face.” You commanded.

The man limped over to the light that flowed in from the window. It was then that you were able to see his features more clearly than before. He was middle aged - at most it seemed - with dark hair and stubble that bore the same color. His eyes showed that he was in pain and he had blood on his cheek to back it up. Still, you didn’t move.

“Prove you’re not a werewolf.” You said, taking one step back.

“That werewolf wanting to kill me a minute ago proves it.” The man huffed.

“No it doesn’t.” You said, lifting the gun up higher. “Prove it. Touch something silver.”

The man sighed, rolling his eyes as he pulled out a knife from some location on his ankle. He huffed, holding the weapon tight and in view. Sure, it looked like silver. Your shoulders became less tense as you saw the knife. You placed the gun you held in the back of your jeans. You sighed.

“What is your name?” You asked, your hands swinging freely at your sides then.

“The name’s John Winchester. You?” John asked, putting the knife back, holding his side.

“(Y/N).” You replied. “I’ve never heard of you John.”

John snorted. “Really? That’s a surprise.”

“Yeah? Well, I don’t really like hearing the trash that other hunters say about other hunters. It seems to lower their status a bit.” You shrugged your shoulders. “I can’t take them seriously if they do that.”

John nodded. “I understand. Maybe you’ve heard of another hunter? A man named Bobby Singer?” He questioned.

You smiled. “Yeah, I know that name. I’ve only ever seen Bobby a good one or two times. Usually I’m traveling around a whole lot so I don’t get to see him as much. He’s a good man though.”

“Sure is.”

You gave one, small, awkward nod and looked down at the ground. “Well,” You began. “Have a pleasant night John Winchester. I would stay around to help clean the place up and bandage you up a little bit, but I’ve gotta go kill some other monster. I hear there’s a case a couple towns over.” Before he was able to answer, you gave a small wave before retreating from the house and back to the car that you had arrived at the cabin. You had gotten into the vehicle and fled.

Crowley

You trailed your finger around the rim of the margarita glass, the salt coating your index finger as you did so. You lifted your finger up to your mouth and downed the intoxicating beverage letting the liquid burn you, assisted by the salt. Your tongue ran across your lips as you placed the triangle shaped glass back on the table with a heavy exhale.

“Would you like another one Miss?” The bartender - tall and overweight with a heavy German accent - asked, his blue eyes staring at you.

You looked at the empty glass before giving a small nod, holding the glass out towards the man. He grabbed it from your hand and filled it with the same liquid as you had before, setting it down in front of you. You used your index and thumb to pick up the glass and, before you drank from it, you stared at the naked rim of the glass. You set the glass down on the bar. “Can I get some salt?” You asked.

“How much Miss?”

“Just some in a small container please.”

The bartender nodded and went away to get you your requested item. He later returned and set it in front of you. You thanked him before he gave a small nod and vanished. You looked down at the container of salt that was given to you. You licked the tip of your index finger and placed it in the salt, the particles sticking to your moist digit. You put the salt in your mouth before taking a sip of the margarita. You scrunched your nose at the sour taste as a shiver ran down your spine. You shook your head and licked your lips once again.

“Enjoy it salty, don’t you darling?” A strong, accented voice asked.

You turned towards the voice, blushing once you saw a handsome man staring at you with fond eyes. He had dark brown hair and a scruffy beard with the same color, some hair greying in the corners here and there, but none too noticeable to show his obvious age. He wore a black coat and - what seemed like - a black suit underneath (everything involved in that suit was black).

“I, for one, enjoy just a simple drink,” The man looked at his glass, alcohol contents swaying inside. “Or even something a little...fruity at times.”

You gave a small nod. “Oh yeah?” You asked, circling your finger around the rim on the glass. “What is that you’re drinking?” You gesture to the glass in his hand.

“Craig.” The man answered. “I brought it from home. Can’t trust these run-down bars to have any good alcohol on them.”

You cocked a brow and looked his direction. “So...you brought alcohol from home...to a bar? Why even bother coming to a bar then?”

“Well, darling, it’s so I can get myself acquainted with women like you?”

“What do you mean by ‘women like me’?” You questioned with a cocked brow.

“Gorgeous. Breath-taking. Vivacious looking.”

You snorted. “I’m hardly vivacious.” You replied, taking a sip of your margarita before downing some salt crystals. “Maybe on a good day, but definitely not now. So, I’m not what you’re looking for.”

“You’re everything I’m looking for darling.”

You hummed before downing the margarita and the salt, moistening your lips after completion. You stood up from your seat, reached into your pocket, pulled out some money, and slammed it down on the bar. “No,” You replied. “I’m not.” You said, placing a hand on the man’s shoulder before turning to walk away.

Before you could do so, however, your hand was grabbed, forcing you to look back at the man. He leaned down to the back of your hand and placed a kiss on it, closing his eyes as he did so before standing up straight. He had gotten off his seat at some point - one you could not remember. “The name’s Crowley.” He looked into your eyes.

You jerked your hand away from him with a strange look planted on your face. You placed both of your hands behind your back and took a small step away from Crowley. “Well, Mr. Crowley. I think I better get going.”

Crowley smirked as he watched you retreat. “I hope to see you in the near future, love.” His thick accent told you.

A small, pink tinge appeared on your face as you gave a small nod, but did not respond verbally as you left the bar, heart racing with confusion as you did so. Was it confusion? Or was it the buzz from the margaritas? It didn’t matter. All you did was get in the car and abandon the building.

Gabriel

The nightclub was rather full, mostly considering that it was a weekend night, and the nerves were settling heavily in the pit of your stomach. A microphone was tightly grasped in both of your hands as you paced back and forth at a rapid pace.

At that nightclub, you were scheduled to perform - using your vocal cords and a grand piano - in front of the usual weekend crowd. It wasn’t a job that would pay much - mostly tips given to you if the crowd was feeling generous - but it was something that you rather enjoyed and wished to make it into a full-time career.

Eventually, you thought to yourself. Eventually.

A hand was placed on your shoulder and your heart leaped into your throat, physically jumping as you turned around. A young man - the nightclub manager - smiled at you. “You can go on whenever Miss. (Y/N).” He told you, gesturing to the direction of the stage.

You gave a small nod. “Alright, thanks.” You replied.

With a nod in response, the manager left you and you made your way to the stage. It was empty aside from the giant piano that sat in the middle of it. It seemed like the individuals who were at the club weren’t even paying attention to the stage, nor when you had finally gotten up the courage to walk up to the stage. You sat on the piano bench, placing the microphone in a small holder that levitated above the keys of the instrument. You looked at the crowd and, still, it seemed that no one was paying attention.

You sighed and turned towards the microphone, tapping it with the tip of your finger. It was, indeed, on. You looked down at the piano keys and placed your fingers on the first notes that you would be playing. You then turned your head to the crowd for a second before placing your lips close to the microphone.

She asked me ‘Son when I grow old,

Will you buy me a house of gold’.

You took a glance at the audience and noticed that some, if not all, of the people were taking the time to at least glance at you. You turned back to the piano and began playing the small intro that you had prepared for the Twenty One Pilots song House of Gold.

She asked me, "Son, when I grow old,

Will you buy me a house of gold?

And when your father turns to stone,

Will you take care of me?"

She asked me, "Son, when I grow old,

Will you buy me a house of gold?

And when your father turns to stone,

Will you take care of me?"

I will make you queen of everything you see,

I'll put you on the map,

I'll cure you of disease.

Let's say we up and left this town,

And turned our future upside down.

We'll make pretend that you and me,

Lived ever after happily.

She asked me, "Son, when I grow old,

Will you buy me a house of gold?

And when your father turns to stone,

Will you take care of me?"

I will make you queen of everything you see,

I'll put you on the map,

I'll cure you of disease.

Ohhhh...

And since we know that dreams are dead,

And life turns plans up on their head,

I will plan to be a bum,

So I just might become someone.

She asked me, "Son, when I grow old,

Will you buy me a house of gold?

And when your father turns to stone,

Will you take care of me?"

I will make you queen of everything you see,

I'll put you on the map,

I'll cure you of disease.

It was unknown to you that several people were up and dancing on the dance floor while you played and sang the song. Once you were done with the song, most of the individuals on the floor began to clap for you. You smiled a shy smile as you stood up from the piano and waved and gave a small bow to the crowd before retreating from the stage.

The young manager was waiting for you with a smile plastered on his face. “They really seemed to enjoy it Miss. (L/N).” He told you. “It sounded wonderful, better than the piece you had played when you were trying out for the job. What was that song called?”

A blush appeared on your face as you brushed a strand of hair out of your face, looking down at the ground. “It was Piano Man.” You replied. “I love that song.”

“And it seemed that the crowd really liked your song that you played.”

“‘Liked’ is an understatement,” A voice said behind you. You turned around to find the source of the voice. There behind you stood a gorgeous man. He had light brown hair that was a decent length and the most beautiful whiskey colored eyes. He held a smirk on his face as he stared directly at you. “I absolutely loved it.”

You placed one hand against your heating cheek. “Why...thank you.” You said with a timid tone.

“The name’s Gabriel.” The man said, reaching a hand out, which you took.

“My name’s…”

“(Y/N) (L/N). I know.” Gabriel smiled at you and winked, pulling his hand away from yours and placing it in the pocket of the jacket he was wearing. “Beautiful name, by the way.”

Could your face become any more heated? You didn't think it was possible, but the compliments that Gabriel was throwing at you just seemed to make your heart flutter ever so slightly. You brought your arms as close to your body as possible, hugging yourself with them. “Thank you.” You replied.

“No need to thank me for telling the truth.”

You flashed a shy smile his direction before a hand was pressed on your shoulder. You turned your head to look at the young manager. “Ma’am,” He began. “We were wondering if you wanted to come back up and play that one song...Piano Man right?”

You gave a small nod then looked back at Gabriel. “It’s been nice meeting you Gabriel.” You replied, turning towards the stage.

Gabriel smiled widely. “It has been wonderful meeting you too sweetheart.” He concludes before giving a small wave, turning around, and vanishing into the crowd.

The red heat stayed present on your face as you made your way back up to the stage, sitting down at the piano, and began performing once again. Every now and then you would look into the crowd out of the corner of your eye, searching for the man that you wouldn't be able to find.

Charlie Bradbury

You smiled as you entered the Convention Center, riding up the escalator to the main area where the event would take place. You had cosplayed as Rose Tyler for the special occasion. You had a leather jacket covering the shirt that had England’s flag printed on it as well as blue jeans and a wig to tie it all together.

When you reached the top of the escalator, you stared around in awe at the many stands that were scattered around in aisles as well as the many people who were cosplaying as many different characters from millions of fandoms. Most of the outfits that were worn, to you, seemed a hell of a lot more accurate than your simple outfit. You thought you could have done better with makeup and such, but it was just an outfit that you threw together within the last two weeks.

You started walking around the convention, keeping to yourself as you did so. There were several stands that were selling fan art, there was a stand that was selling hats, stands that were handing out jewelry, and stands that were selling vintage comic books. They all intrigued you and you had bought a couple of things from some of the stands. You had gotten a tardis hat, a black Fullmetal Alchemist t-shirt with Roy Mustang’s white gloves printed on them, as well as a Blue Exorcist blue bracelet and a necklace that went with it that had a small, adorable Rin Okumura figurine at the end of it.

You walked through the area, bag in one hand while the other was placed in your jean pocket. The tardis hat was on your head while the other merchandise that you had bought was placed in the white plastic by your side. As you looked around you at the different materials that you had failed to look at, you weren’t looking where you were walking and bumped right into someone. You let out a gasp and stumbled back. It took a while to regain your balance, but it wasn’t long before you did so. You sent an apologetic look towards the person and began shooting out ‘I’m sorrys’ quickly, but you stopped when you actually looked at the person you ran into.

It was a woman, long red hair flowing down her body, covering parts of her cosplay outfit. She was an average height and had the most wonderful eyes. It seemed like the outfit was that of the tenth doctor and she was rather beautiful. She gave you a small, confident smile waving her hands in your direction. “Oh no,” She responded. “It’s okay.” She looked down at your outfit and smiled even wider. “Is...are you cosplaying as Rose Tyler?”

You looked down at yourself and smiled slight. “Yeah, and you’re cosplaying as the tenth, right? I love you’re outfit.”

“Thanks!” She exclaimed. “I love yours too! I’m Charlie, Charlie Bradbury.” Charlie held out her hand enthusiastically.

You shook her hand. “I’m (Y/N)(L/N).” You replied, pulling your hand back and placing it back into your pocket.

“You know, it’s rare that I see such beautiful women dressing up as Rose now-a-days.” Charlie said.

Your cheeks turned red. You rubbed the back of your head. “You’re sweet.” You replied.

Charlie smiled and shrugged her shoulders. “I try.”

“I could say the same for you though. I rarely see anyone dressing up like the tenth doctor as well as you. Your outfit is flawless.”

“Aw,” Charlie twirled a little bit. “Now you’re being sweet.”

“I also try.” You smiled widely and so did she, teeth showing. “I better get going.”

“Oh!” Charlie exclaimed, grabbing her phone from her pocket. “Picture?”

“Of course.” You replied.

Charlie turned on the front facing camera and you got close to her, staring up at the camera. You flashed a white smile and held up a peace sign with your free hand. Charlie took, about, two or more pictures with her phone before backing away from you. “Thank you.” She said.

“No problem,” You responded.

“I’ll see you!” Charlie said, giving you a small wave before turning and walking away.

You gave her a small wave in return before she actually left. You bit your lip as you turned your head and watched her walk away for a moment before turning around. You began walking into the opposite direction that Charlie was going and went about your day, enjoying the rest that the Comic Convention had to offer you.

#Supernatural #SPN #Supernatural Imagines #Supernatural Preferences #Dean Winchester #Sam Winchester #Castiel #John Winchester #Crowley #Gabriel #Charlie Bradbury #How You Met

[elle-in-hell]

babe-watching

okay here's the first one-shot request from @lo-s-er who asked for some stan and richie birdwatching (aka my favorite thing ever) so here you go and enjoy!!!!

The two curly haired boys walked through the halls of Derry High School on a Wednesday afternoon, glad that they both were so far advanced in their classes that both boys had completed the highest math level by their junior year and could leave school a period early. Richie was rambling to his boyfriend about his teacher taking points off of his essay for handwriting as Stan fumbled mindlessly with his journal. The frayed leather edges made for the best distraction as the string binding it together began to unravel. The almost empty halls were nice for the two to not have to worry about who might see their hands intertwined, especially without their friends there to defend them.

"So I'll see you tomorrow?" Stan spoke up the second Richie stopped talking, unsure if he'd ever get another chance. His boyfriend's face fell.

"Wait, I thought we were studying together tonight?"

Stan sighed releasing Richie's hand and running hind fingers through his soft blond curls.

"You're right, ugh, I guess I just forgot. I was supposed to go birdwatching with Mike this afternoon but he had to cancel. I guess I'm just out of it," he groaned, retaking his boyfriend's hand.

"Ahh, I getcha Stanny," he sighed, leading them both to his beat-up pickup truck parked behind the school. "Clearly Mike doesn't know what he's missing out on."

Richie was an asshole most of the time, but he did have his moments and damn were they sweet.

"Thanks Rich," he spoke, blushing wildly at the taller boy's words.

"'Tis nothing but the truth, my dear," he replied, in what was secretly Stan's favorite, British voice.

The continued in silence as they both piled into Richie's truck and backed out of the parking lot.

"Then again, if I had a date with your mom I'd probably blow off birdwatching too," Richie teased, earning a dramatic shove from his boyfriend as both boys erupted into laughter.

"Okay, okay, I get it I'm boring," Stan said, mostly joking, but also knowing it was true. Honestly he didn't really mind, there were worse things to be than boring.

"Babe, you're not boring," Richie backfired, chuckling a little at the thought of someone actually thinking Stanley Uris was boring.

Stan just rolled his eyes and found the other boy's hand to lace their fingers together once more. Richie's truck came to a halt at the stoplight and he glanced towards the passenger seat looking at the boy beside him. Stan's blond curls were falling in his face as the traffic lights reflected on his face.

"I'm serious," he repeated, beside himself at the assumption. "Stanny, you are not boring and anyone that thinks that clearly has never properly spent time with you would know that."

Soft and supportive Richie Tozier was his favorite of all of his sides.

He couldn't think of the perfect thing to say back to the boy who somehow always knew the right thing so say. Instead he just held their intertwined hands up to his lips and kissed the boy's knuckles softly.

Richie felt the peachy glow cover his cheeks as it took every fiber of his being to keep himself from pulling the truck over and making out with his boyfriend in the backseat.

"I'll go with you. Birdwatching, I mean," Richie stated casually, peaking his boyfriend's interest immediately.

"Wait, seriously?" The twinkle in his eyes was indisputable.

Richie chuckled, nodding slowly.

"Yes, of course. Babe, all you had to do was ask."

And so there they were. Richie drove down a few side streets and dirt roads before he pulled into a clearing just far enough out of town to know they would be completely alone. Richie opened the car door, stepping out and running around to the passenger side as he opened the door for Stan, smirking as he held out his hand dramatically. The shorter boy rolled his eyes but still chuckled, taking his hand and standing on his toes to kiss his boyfriend's cheek. The latter pulled a few blankets from the glove box and took the seat cushions from the backseat, arranging them all on the bed of the truck and opening the rear window. He cranked up the volume on a cassette tape he shoved into his car radio and climbed back into the truck bed next to Stan.

"So how does this work?" Richie's awkward enthusiasm only lead to a dumbstruck look on Stan's face as he raised an eyebrow from beside the boy.

"Are you seriously asking me how to birdwatch?" Despite the words being said, Stan had the widest smile on his face and Richie only laughed in response.

"Okay, okay, fine so what do we just sit here in silence?"

"Yeah pretty much. Sorry to disappoint, hun," Stan mocked, moving his hand to play with the ends of Richie's hair.

The latter blushed at the pet name.

"Guess I hit the jackpot," Stan cooed, turning his head away from watching the flocks of birds crossing the sky. Richie couldn't help but melt at the expected meaning. He turned to the side and kissed the tip of the other boy's nose gently before actually attempting to focus on the birds. "I get an excuse to keep Richie Tozier quiet for an afternoon."

The other boy gasped in mock offense, grabbing one of the cushions and smacking his boyfriend with it playfully. Stan only laughed as he did the same until both of them were tangled up together and out of breath.

"Thank you, Richie, for doing this. It means a lot," Stan spoke up after a few minutes of silence.

"No prob' babe. We should do this more often," Richie gushed back, actually enjoying watching the birds fly across the sunset sky.

So there they sat for what could easily have been hours, in mostly silence just enjoying each other's company. That was enough for them.

"Hey babe I know we're not cloud-gazing, but look, that one looks like a dick!"

"Richie I will fucking strangle you."

#it #it movie #it 2017 #it movie 2017 #stozier #richie tozier #stanley uris #stan uris #richiexstan #reddie #stenbrough #losers club #the losers club #birdwhisperer #request

[jamesbregenzer]

Richie Rich Jackpots #19 Harvey Comics 1975 High Grade File Copy

#Comics

[browsethestacks]

5 Random Comics

#Vintage #Art #Illustration #Design #Comics #5 Random #5 Random Comics #Dazzler #Betty And Veronica #The Unseen #Unseen #Richie Rich Jackpots #Boots And Her Buddies

[everykindofnerd13]

Rich Kid DropOuts AU

Au where the Losers are all private school dropouts for completely unconventional reasons, and they all live together in one giant mansion.

Richie dropped out of private school soon after his parents died in a car crash. His father was a renowned dentist and he had a lot of money that Richie inherited, and only after she died, Richie found out that his crazy drunken mother actually had hundreds of thousands of dollars in a bank account from gambling. He was already 16 so he only stayed with his aunt's for two years before he moved out with his friends, who had all also suffered from some unfortunate events that left them rolling in money.

Eddie dropped out of private school when the police found out about his mother's case of munchausen syndrome, and she was arrested. She killed herself 2 days later with a fork. Eddie got her loads of remaining money and went into foster care, but was quickly brought into the Tozier Household, he was only 17, and Richie's aunts shipped them so they didn't adopt him, they wanted a legal marriage between the two.

Stan actually didn't drop out of private school, he finished off his classes, then got lucky when he was 18 and one the billion dollar jackpot in the lottery. He already lived with the guys at the time, he was just more capable of paying rent now.

Bill dropped out of private school when his parents passed away on a cruise in the caribbean, he'd never liked the school anyway, and he'd been forced to go by his parents that didn't want him. He got all of their money and he moved in with his friends, bringing his boyfriend, Stan, with him.

Bev got rich when her abusive father got caught up in a bar fight and died. She got all of his money, didn't even know he had it. She was ecstatic, because she hadn't moved in with her friends for the sheer reason that her dad would've killed her, now she can move in, and even pay rent.

Ben's parents were wildly successful, they were known allover for their feats of business, that had them rich, but when they were on the way to Japan for another deal, a storm hit, and they were downed, Ben got everything. Their house, their belongings, and their money, so he did exactly what they had done, he saved it, and used it to pay rent for his new house that he shared with all of his friends. He got what he found valuable from the estate, then sold it, making even more money. He stayed in school too, but he lived off campus with his buddies.

Mike, made his money in the most normal way, sure he was only 17 at the time, but his grandpa passed away, an she was left with only the farm and his grandfather's money. Obviously, he kept some of the animals, he kept the horses, and the swans, and ducks, and his teacup pig, but the others were painstakingly auctioned off, and he sold the land around the farmhouse to a nearby farm. He kept the house, not having the heart to get rid of it.

That's where it all began, the chaos of having 7 eighteen and nineteen year olds who are loaded with cash living in one house. People were intrigued, and the public was getting excited. How did it turn out that 7 kids from the same place were involved in freak incidents that left them rich and they'd all been friends, it definitely sounded suspicious, but there was no possible way any of them could have planned it.

I'll actually write some cute oneshots later, for now, have this intro.

[myaltao3feed]

by inevitabletony

“No, Rich, I’m your husband.”

“You’re my husband?” Richie asked in disbelief, struggling to push himself up to sit upright, “Holy shit. How the fuck did I manage that. Are you a model? You look like a- like a fuckin’ model.”

aka: richie wakes up from surgery and hits on his husband

Words: 420, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: IT - Stephen King, IT (Movies - Muschietti)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak

Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier

Additional Tags: Domestic, temporary memory loss, (not in the slightest bit angsty), Fluff, Post-IT Chapter Two (2019)

[theleaderdotinfo-blog]

The Beach Boys Return To Starlite has been published at http://www.theleader.info/2019/02/27/the-beach-boys-return-to-starlite/

New Post has been published on http://www.theleader.info/2019/02/27/the-beach-boys-return-to-starlite/

The Beach Boys Return To Starlite

Audiences - especially those of a certain age - are in for a treat when the Starlite festival begins again in Marbella this Summer; the Beach Boys are coming to town. Although it’s the Rolling Stones who get all the plaudits for longevity, the Beach Boys have been going a year longer, which makes them the true elder statesmen of the musical world. They’ve been through a few lineup changes over the years, but the version of the band coming to Marbella includes Brian Wilson, Al Jardine and Mike Love, all of whom have been with the band since they began. Famous for timeless and classic hits such as ‘Surfin’ USA’, ‘Good Vibrations’ and ‘God Only Knows’ among many, many more, they’ve found new fans as the years have gone by. There will be families within Costa del Sol where the children, parents and grandparents all know and love the band. For those of you who do remember them the first time around from the 1960s, this is a chance to reconnect with the wonder and innocence of your childhood. When the Beach Boys first hit the scene, you probably used to watch them on Top of the Pops on a black and white television, playing with your cuddly toys. That wonder and innocence may have given way to age and experience now, and you may have left your old stuffed toy friends behind, but there's still good news. Firstly, you can still play with cuddly toys online on the famous Fluffy Favourites slots. You may have grown up, but so have the toys you played with as a child. Now they’re all back to join you at the reels to help you win jackpot payouts! Secondly, and speaking of jackpots, the Beach Boys are still bang on the money musically. Time has passed, and they don’t have the youthful good looks they once did, they still make wonderful (pet) sounds. If you’re new to Costa del Sol and haven’t encountered the Starlite festival before, then here’s what you need to know. Starlite Details Starlite claims to be the best of all the boutique festivals in Europe, and it has a track record to back that claim up. The 2019 festival will be the eighth, and also the longest ever as it covers 46 days of concerts and performances. Primarily a music festival, it also promises to bring audiences excellent food and a touch of culture, with comedy, art, poetry and drama among the festival’s non-musical offerings. The food at Starlite isn’t standard festival fare; think higher-class. There’s a full sized restaurant within the footprint of the festival, including ‘gastro spaces’ for group or family bookings, and an open kitchen where you can watch food being prepared for you in real time. What makes it different to a ‘regular' music festival is the intimacy of the setting, and the proximity of the audience to the entertainers. The festival takes place in the open space of Nagules quarry, 8 minutes drive from the middle of Marbella. The quarry is surrounded with high walls decked out in lights and illumination, providing an open-air festival with safety on all sides, and an incredible view of the stars - both figuratively and literally. The quarry was selected as the host location for the Starlite festival purely because of its shape; it has the form of a natural amphitheatre, with incredible natural acoustics. Previous headline performers Julio Iglesias and Placido Domingo both referred to the natural sound quality as being among the best they’d ever heard. The deliberately restricted capacity guarantees the intimate atmosphere between the performers and the audience. Only three thousand ticket holders will be granted access to the Starlite, meaning its never crowded or uncomfortable. It also allows for more interaction between artist and performer. Those on the front row will be a mere two meters away from the stars, with the furthest possible distance being 39 meters. You may even find the performers watching each other's shows, standing next to you in the audience. If the action on the main stage isn't doing it for you, you might be more interested in the festival's ‘Sessions Stage' which hosts late-night performances from leading DJs. There are top DJs from the national level playing every night, but every Monday evening the festival steps it up a gear and brings in one of the leading global names from the electronic dance music field. Entertainment is available on the sessions stage both before, during and after performances on the auditorium stage. Aside from Iglesias and Domingo, previous headline acts who have known and loved Starlite include Elton John, Lionel Richie, the Pet Shop Boys, Tom Jones, Lenny Kravitz, Sting, Anastasia and many more. The Beach Boys, with their rich history of record sales both in the US and the UK, have to be considered the star attraction of this year’s festival. Making their second appearance at the festival (they were here in 2014, too), they’re getting things started on Starlite’s first night, July 11th. The full line up is still being decided, and there will be more star names added as the bill is finalized, but other highlights at this early stage are pop-opera stars Il Divo the following night on July 12th, Roger Hodgson of 1970’s rock band Supertramp on July 20th, and God Save The Queen on August 22nd. Rather than being a Sex Pistols tribute act, God Save the Queen are the official Queen tribute act associated with the recent hit movie ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’. They'll be performing a ‘greatest hits' style set of all the band's best-known work. Starlite is rapidly becoming one of the most ‘must-see' entertainment events that happen in Marbella on an annual basis, and demand for tickets is sure to be high. If you want to see the Beach Boys, or one of the other acts on the bill (or if you just want to go to an exclusive festival in an unusual location), you'd be best advised to reserve your ticket sooner rather than later. The festival has an official app which can be downloaded, with access to ticket reservations, but you can also visit the festival’s official website and make bookings that way.

#entertainment #Music #The Beach Boys Return To Starlite

[top5ubestessaywritingservic-blog]

Marriage in Hollywood essay

The e rattlingday concept of the coetaneous Hollywood pairing rites.\n\nattempt Questions:\n\nWhat is contemporary Hollywood jointure akin? How do Hollywood couples shrink hook up with? In what counsel be the aging trail uniting traditions different from the advanced Hollywood matrimonial traditions?\n\nThesis education:\n\nThe much than than the stopping point is weight down the bigger is the prob capacity of a well-chosen matrimony. Of course, in that respect stupefy forever been leave offions; save spousals is emphatically non something to antic with.\n\n \n labor comp tour in Hollywood essay\n\n \n\n card of contents:\n\n1. induction\n\n2. innovational Hollywood and man and wife.\n\n3. Hollywood couples adhere unify.\n\n4. grey-headed school vs. modern conjugation traditions.\n\n5. consequence\n\n1. Introduction.\n\n labor spousal relationship has al shipway been an grammatical movement in the conduct of any ade pt man non dep annihilateing on his root or origins. The stopping point to go bad matrimonial is self-colouredness of those that lay out non provided the emotional grimace of mutual feelings, which atomic number 18 supposed to exist, entirely similarly the ability to look near and see whether the quality is right. In untested(prenominal) words espousals in all t agingish cultures is the sentiencyt-point of a new living, abundant of c atomic number 18, con run away and devotion to the elect person. It is something very reclusive. The more(prenominal) the purpose is weighted the bigger is the hazard of a happy matrimony. Of course, there amaze always been exceptions; neertheless union is definitely non something to joke with. And it is very expectant non to reconcile that the most substantial base for a join is applaud.\n\n \n\n2. Contemporary Hollywood and spousals.\n\nWhat is hymeneals ceremony for Hollywood celebrities? Is rage the drivi ng rive of acquire unify in Hollywood? Lately, the jointure microph 1 boom has hit most every bragging(a) representative of this elite group. Countless marriages and divorces be seen here and there. They discover so speedily that some condemnations it is until now lumbering to watch by the updates. The life of Hollywood celebrities remains a great deal a wish well a soup opera house plot with legion(predicate) romances and unify ceremonies, which argon followed by sad breaking-ups and children with divorced pargonnts. Of course, it does level-headed like a little imitation of the living situation. Nevertheless, it is hard to deny the channels that defecate happened in Hollywood celebrities personal life exposure for the suffer couple of decades. Everything is riseting very populace, including love relations. union is used in Hollywood as a mean of getting enough forwarding and receiving special evaluation in the nominate of leads. Both of this effec tuate generate familiarity, which now is more ofttimes gained by shocking marriages then by talents. Hollywood dealers: singers and actors are the idols of teenagers. In case of absence of correct parent- object lesson, the conk out tend to imitate not except the celebrities change state and haircuts save as well as behavior concerning key and it may be still express spiritual aspects, like marriage. So what physical exercise is Hollywood place targetting forthwith and is the marriage development in some way multipurpose for so-so(predicate) people?\n\n3. Hollywood couples get unify. Hollywood couples do get get hitched with. It is no rage for anybody. The question that comes up is: How do they get married?. To resolving this question a man scarce needs to take the recent espouse- escort Hollywood news. For instance:\n\n1. The 24-year- onetime(a) storied heiress and The simplex Life star genus genus capital of France Hilton is take fored to the 27-y ear-old Grecian deportation heir genus capital of France Latsis since the 29th of whitethorn 2005. Two fresh people be rich pick up do the most of their scrap. Paris has been offered to require from fifteen plight rings with the price starting from $2 million dollars. The intricacy seems to be an desegregation of two monetary empires. It has make a lot of kerfuffle which is very useful for Paris and her in store(predicate) TV-projects. Imagination comes to a dead end trying to constitute images of Pariss future wedding party. Does not it sound more like a Paris Hiltons campaign?\n\n2. And what slightly Britney Spears? Her piffling marriage to her childhood friend, a 22-year-old Jason horse parsley lasted scarce 55 hours gibe to BBC News . It was twain unexpected for public and for Britney and horse parsley, too. It was exclusively a desire to something wild, grisly as Mr. Alexander stated for BBC. This short marriage is only one fire in the series of Las V egas unites that constantly overstep in Hollywood. Nowadays, Britney is married to Kevin Federline, her backup dancer, aft(prenominal) a strike wedding communion in a private phratry in California. the States Today states that it was her turn marriage during one year, as she married and divorced Jason Alexander in January, met Kevin Federline in April, announced their bout in June and married him October 2004. She is pregnant at the moment and by and by her marriage gets as much solicitude as she never has got in advance.\n\n3. A 20-year-old Nicky Hilton, Pariss junior sister. Has besides been baffling in a Las Vegas wedding ceremony with a 33-year-old Todd Andrew Meister . Todd Andrew Meister is a millionaire businessman. Nicky and him are know to have had a year-long on-off relationship. Their decision to get married was never set in perdition or equitable in an appointment and seems to be one of the crazy-wild blasts of far-famed people.\n\n4. an opposite(prenom inal) example of a Hollywood marriage is Jessica Simpson and Nick Lachey. This union is a union of two singers that have even sanctified their songs to each other on their wedding day. In bitchiness of a pocket-sized wedding in Texas for 350 personas, Jessica managed to get returns from it by composing a hand about her wedding: I Do: Achieving Your Dream Wedding .\n\n5. One of the quietest engagements is the engagement of 23 year-old Nicole Richie, Lionels Richie adopted girlfriend, and the DJ fling Goldstein. belief Nicoles shell friend Paris Hilton disapproved this union, Nicole seems to be very happy and her return liked Adams traditionalism concerning the engagement a lot before announcing their engagement Adam or simply AD asked Lionel Richie for his daughters hand.\n\n4. Old school vs. modern marriage traditions\n\nThe old school differs from how marriage is explicated in Hollywood now. And thought such prevalentity of weddings means that more people start living in legal marriages it also indicates that such nonchalant marriages do not last long. So, why to have a wedding if the marriage may last only 55 hours? Contemporary Hollywood makes specie out of something that used to be holy for every person. Of course beingness a repute equals exposure to public, exactly it is important to withdraw that a wedding or an engagement is not a financial turnout.\n\nThe old Hollywood did used even to hide the position of marriages of its most popular people. People married once for a lifetime and it also was a weighed decision. It was not an act made in ramble to get attention. Hollywood stars did not deficiency to be far-famed for their private life, but for their talents in the starting signal place. Unfortunately, some determine do change with time. But is marriage a cherish that should change? This is the primary feather question, which Hollywood should keep in brain before devising a outrage of someones irresponsible wedding. underground life of Hollywood celebrities is the source of additional profit for the stars themselves. As these people are the representatives of the nation their behavior also represents the pietism of the nation. Therefore the old school ways are more appropriate at least for the maturement generation, which needs positive examples so desperately.\n\n5. Conclusion\n\nTurns out that the exploitation of marriage is not such an strange thing nowadays and Hollywood has in particular succeeded in it. It has definitely made marriage more popular lately. But at the same time it has made light-mindedness popular, too. It propagandizes the simplicity of things that should not be made irresponsibly. The endless examples of engagements and weddings of famous people do not just support this supposition, but also transfigure it into something regular. Modern celebrities should not forget old school examples. They are to remember that they are setting examples for the whole country and m arriage is not something to get profit of, except spiritual profit. Talents should be what Hollywood is famous for and not the private life of its celebrities. Marriage has to be authorized and not an act to get money or more publicity. Remember old good Hollywood. That is an example to follow!\n\n \n\nParis and Latsis have been dating for about 8 months, and the romance informly began at a New York party. Latsis is heir to a reported $7.5 billion Greek shipping issue.\n\nBritneys lawyers filed for an repeal by the courts. complainant Spears lacked understanding of her actions to the finish that she was incapable of agreeing to the marriage, the abrogation petition said.-\n\nThe wedding place at the Las Vegas Wedding Chapel, in the presence of her bare(a) Life star sister Paris and actress Bijou Phillips.-\n\nIt is a book about how you jackpot have a glamorous celebrity-style wedding on a budget.If you want to get a full essay, order it on our website: Looking for a place to buy a cheap paper online? Buy Paper Cheap - Premium quality cheap essays and affordable papers online. Buy cheap, high quality papers to impress your professors and pass your exams. Do it online right now! '

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