jesus christ this took so long

“You Love Me?”

Title: “You Love Me?”

Pairing: Richie Tozier x Reader

Type: Platonic | Romantic | Familial | Other

Warnings: angst, profanity, mentions of aids, mentions of neglectful parents.

Prompt: F13: “you love me?” “You have no idea.”

Never in your life did you dream you’d fall in love with Richie Tozier.

You’d known him since your diaper days - toddling about together, plump thighs and sticky mouths, with both of your parents watching - your’s attentively, Richie’s listlessly, bored, looking as though they wanted to be anywhere other than watching their only child take his first steps.

Growing up, shared rattle toys became shared peanut-butter sandwiches or bright-coloured hairclips pilfered from your mother’s china dish. Richie loved to wear those hairclips, more than even you. He’d stick an assortment of them into his unruly web of dark curls, specks of pink and lime and chrome swathed in a brunette tide.

Richie had always been… spacey, almost. From the first time, in third grade, you could cross the road on your own (“be very careful, Y/n. Remember to look both ways, and stop and listen for any cars, and never, ever cross on a bend.”) Richie’s parents gave no such forewarning, and it was with cheery ignorance he sauntered right into the - albeit, quiet - road on Monday morning.

Your hand shot out and grabbed him by the collar in childish alarm. “What are you doing? We have to look both ways first!”

“Oh yeah,” he returned cheerfully. “I forgot.”

Brushing off your scandalised look, he pointedly craned his neck left, then right, and then took your hand in his and pulled you from the curb with no warning. You shrieked at him all the way over the asphalt, sure a car would come from nowhere and career into you. When you scrambled onto the sidewalk on the opposite side, you ripped your hand from a giggling Richie’s grasp.

“That wasn’t funny!” you said shrilly. “I told you, we have to be careful when we cross a road, else we’ll both be hit by cars!”

“What happens when you get hit by a car?” Richie countered thoughtfully, as the two of you began walking. You paused to think, chewing your lip.

“We end up flat as pancakes, and the police have to peel us off the road,” you eventually returned triumphantly, but if your aim was to deter Richie, it backfired.

“Cool! I want to be a pancake!” declared the boy enthusiastically, but you merely shot him a frosty look and dragged him through the school gates.

You were there when Richie got his glasses, and the teasing started. Sneering jibes of “four-eyes” were brushed off, kids asking how many fingers they were holding up deflected with ease. You worried for Richie, the sensitive soul that you were, but he only ever laughed about it.

You were there when his parents stopped calling when they weren’t going to come home that night. Before, it was apologetic phone calls (“Richard, sweetie, we’re so sorry, the most silly thing - your father enjoyed himself a little too much at the gathering, you know how he likes his currant wine, only we thought it best to stay at the hotel tonight.”)

You found him hunched up by the side-table where the phone stood. The house was dark and cold - the heating wasn’t on. Richie looked like he hadn’t moved in years, a statue gathering dust, huddled against the wood of the table. You flurried around, snapping the lights on, straining to reach the boiler on tiptoe and turning the dial all the way up before scooting over to Richie and crossing your legs anxiously.

“What’s wrong, Richie?” you inquired. “Where are your parents?”

A pure stab of shock flashed through you at his sudden sob. Tears dripped down his screwed-up face, and when he spoke, his voice trembled. “I don’t know.”

Eventually, after a few phone calls, it was discovered that they were in New Jersey for an open evening of his father’s business. Richie stared at you, stricken, as you solemnly recited what the lady on the phone had told you. “But why didn’t they tell me?” he whispered. You didn’t know the answer to that, so you hugged him instead. He smelled of apple suckers and loneliness.

You were there in fourth grade when Richie discarded his mismatched sweaters and jeans for bright eyesores of Hawaiin shirts and jean-shorts and colourful sneakers. He traded his thin, wiry black glasses for thick red ones that made his eyes looked three times their normal size (you noticed what a pretty brown those irises were, then). He was there when your love for rainbow ponchos and ballet skirts and bracelets with bells on them faded in favour of garish maroons and olives and navies, overalls and sandals and short-shorts. He still wore the hairclips, sometimes - the dark red one that was always his favourite. The rest he kept in a small pot under his bed, along with a photo of you and him grinning toothily in first grade, tucked safe under the velvet lid.

You were there when Henry Bowers, held back for the third year running, decked him for the first time. He called Bowers a “son of a motherless whore” - something impressive-sounding he’d overheard on TV - when he saw him laying into the tiny asthmatic kid from world history. It hadn’t ended well, and you ended up wiping the blood from his nose and lips and teeth. He smiled sheepishly as you scolded him, but his apology was real as the blood staining the tissues. And another plus - from that day, you had three new friends. Stuttering Bill and Eddie Spaghetti and Stan the Man. You five were united as outcasts, not exactly a force to be reckoned with but certainly one that required brief consideration before attempting said reckoning - or whatever.

And in fifth grade, Richie hit some sort of tipping point.

He grew louder and more foul-mouthed, more enthusiastic in his spastic movements, and far more inclined to disrupt a class or smoke in the toilets or flunk school entirely. Then the remarks filtered in - intrusive and suggestive, comments on your legs or your chest or your mom. It annoyed you to no end, but you could think of no way to make him stop. Every time you snarked him or socked him on the shoulder, it made him slightly wilder, a shit-eating grin cracking his face in two - until you remembered something you’d seen once on telly. A man and a woman, and the man talked a lot. Whenever he talked too much, the woman would press a big red button that made a loud “BEEP BEEP” sound.

So, when the next remark came - “Hey Y/n - you have any other hobbies, ‘cept for being my own personal bicycle?” - you stared him dead in the eye and countered solemnly, “beep beep, Richie.”

He gaped at you like a fish out of water, speechless for the first time in years. “Did - did you just - beep me?”

From then on, it seemed to work to shut him down.

But it wasn’t until four months ago - when Georgie went missing, and you met Bev and Mike and Ben, and IT chased normalcy from your life did things between you and Richie start to shift.

You wanted to be with him every second - he was the longest-standing memory you had, the boy with hairclips in his curls who watered your head like a flower the first day of second grade. He was the one who poked your cheeks and called you “bubs” and yanked your ponytail and drew obscene images on your hand in permanent marker. He was the one who spent 70% of his time sleeping round your house when the silence of his was unbearable, who held you sombrely when you cried and cursed at the toughest of bullies in your honour. Richie was, to say with a flair for the dramatic, your life - mapped out in dark hair and freckles and lime sneakers, your other half.

The first time you wanted to kiss him was after the blood oath.

You hissed in pain as you wiped your hands absently on your black shorts. Richie walked beside you, gazing at the jagged cut on his palm with avid interest.

“I swear you can get AIDS from doing shit like this,” Richie commented as the both of you reached your bikes discarded in the grass.

You huffed a laugh. “Probably - but don’t go telling Eddie that.”

“Please. He’d convulse and die on the spot,” Richie scoffed, swinging a leg over the leather saddle. “So, where’ll it be, sweetcheeks?”

You rolled your eyes at the nickname. “I’m kind of in the mood to not think about anything. You wanna head to the arcade?”

Two hours later, pumped up on blue-raspberry Slushies with fingers cramping from the buttons and levers you’d been busy stabbing and yanking, you and Richie sat in a greasy-spoon café, snacking out of a shared basket of cheesy fries as the sky darkened outside the window.

“What d’you think’ll happen now?” Richie asked suddenly.

“What do you mean?” You swallowed your fries, reaching for your Pepsi to wash it down.

“Now IT’s dead. Kaput, bitch. No more missing kids, no more hallucinations, no more freaky fuckin’ clowns.” Richie heaved a sigh. “Cause I don’t think everything will just magically go back to the way it was.”

“No,” you mused in agreement. “No, you’re probably right.”

“‘Cept for us,” Richie beamed suddenly. “We’re inseparable, right?”

You grinned. “You bet, Tozier. For better or for worse.”

You looked at him - skin illuminated by the softly-glowing neon lights from the sign outside, the contours of his face sharply shadowed, hair a black, untameable mess as ever - and the urge to kiss him took you so fiercely, it almost knocked you off your chair. You swallowed your mouthful of fries too quickly in your shock, and one ended up dislodged in your throat. You choked and wheezed, and Richie unhelpfully thumped you on the back until you’d swallowed the damn thing.

“Jesus Christ,” he commented. “Y/n, if you wanted something to choke on, you could’ve just asked.”

A week ago, the comment would be met with an eye-roll; now it only made a flush climb your face, and you took a long swig of your iced Pepsi to ward off the redness.

The first time you actually kissed Richie Tozier was two months later.

It was midnight, but sleep troubled you not. You sat wide-awake, flat on your back and staring up at the ceiling in the darkness, when a sudden tap like long nails on wood made you start violently. Clambering to your feet, you glanced at your window; sure enough, a second later, a pebble hit the glass pane and bounced off again, and you sighed, picking your way over and opening it wide.

“Throwing pebbles, Romeo?” you called down teasingly. Richie glared up at you.

“Can I come up?”

You jerked your head in affirmation. At this point, your parents were so used to you going to bed alone and coming down in the morning with Richie, you didn’t even have to worry.

You slid the ladder out the window until it touched solid ground, then went back to your bed. A minute later, Richie’s face appeared at your open window, and he hauled himself in with all the grace of a sack of wet concrete.

You frowned as the scents of - was that wine? Wine and perfume - wafted in after him. He was also wearing a suit - a suit - but the illusion of whatever formality he’d been going for ended at his hair; looping black curls in total disarray, a soft tide of dark hair held back by a lone red hairclip.

“What the fuck are you wearing?” you eventually managed to choke out.

“My parents are home,” he answered non-communally. “And they decided to host a fucking mixer at our house tonight. So I was forced to wear this bullshit thing -“ he plucked at the suit in disgust “-and I only just managed to get away.”

“Wow.” Your eyes caught the red hairclip glinting amongst the soft web of dark curls. “I haven’t seen that thing in years.”

His hand skittered up to trace the clip absently. “My final act of defiance,” he chuckled weakly, before sinking down to sit on the carpet with heavy shoulders and clasped hands.

“Why are they such assholes, Y/n?” he asked suddenly. “I don’t know if I mortally offended them as in infant, or some shit like that - but even if I did, I still wouldn’t know, because they don’t talk to me. I don’t get it. Why have a kid if - if you’re not gonna-“ He waved his hands around in frustration, as if he could wring some meaning from the sentence if he hit at it enough.

“I don’t know, Richie,” you sighed, sliding off the bed and scooting closer until you sat toe-to-toe with the despairing boy. “I wish - I wish I could help you.”

Finally, he looked up; the tear tracks on his face glistened faintly as he smiled - not a smirk, or a shit-eating grin - a real smile that tore a hole in his chest and let all the dully-glowing fragments of the real Richie spill out for you to see. “You already have,” he answered softly.

Your breath seemed to catch in your throat. “But there’s gotta be more I can do. Damnit, Richie, I love you, so much and it fucking kills me to see you just - just take this shit.”

Richie stared at you, stricken. “You love me?”

You scoffed lightly, your face softening. “You have no idea.”

“But…” Richie was struggling to finish a coherent sentence. “Do you love me like - like the kid the split your granola bars with in second grade or do you love me like a…” Again with the wild hand gestures. “Y’know?”

A laugh bubbled through your lips. “Who says it can’t be both?”

As he opened his mouth to retort, you covered it with yours.

It was chaste and clumsy, but the chaps on his lips felt just right against the smoothness of yours, and the squeak of surprise he made at the embrace was swallowed. You could feel the heat of his cheeks and the flutter of his eyelashes and the firm beat of his heart all in that one, fleeting moment your lips touched.

And even as you pulled back, you felt him still. He was stammering in a way that’d give Bill a run for his money, but you could only smile.

Never in your life did you dream you’d fall in love with Richie Tozier - but right now was one of the rare, blissful seconds reality was better than dreams.


listen idk what the hell makes @markiplier‘s face so freaking hard to paint but gOD DAMN its impossible jesus christ this i lost five years of my life doing this, i wasted so much paper i want to scream

i finally managed to make a decent mark painting though, high five to me

(please don’t repost, thank you. click for better quality!)


Miscellaneous Clark Kent headcanons as relate to my little fic universe, that may or may not ever come up because who knows:

  • Little Clark was really susceptible to childhood superstitions for some reason. He didn’t go under ladders, he did the salt over the shoulder thing, he did not fuck with that Bloody Mary shit like NOPE I’M OUT THIS SLUMBER PARTY IS CANCELED, LANA GET OUT OF MY HOUSE AND TAKE YOUR MURDER GHOSTS WITH YOU. He believes that he is over this as an adult but whenever his foot is about to fall on a crack in the sidewalk it actually stops like a half inch above the ground and hovers there. He does not notice he is doing this. No one notices, ever, because it is the weirdest subtle unconscious thing in the world. At least Martha’s back is safe?
  • I covered the picky eater thing in Christmas in Kansas but to be more specific his tastebuds are just really sensitive to certain chemical compounds? Not just in terms of things he won’t eat but also in terms of things that he expects to be there and he doesn’t really like foods that lack those things. Your two options to make him eat anything are to cover it in sugar, or cover it in garlic.
  • He goes through a lot of breathmints. Can you imagine if Superman saved someone and they were like “man i appreciate being alive but he had some really bad garlic breath”? He would be so horrified.
  • He has a ratty, fucked-up old shirt that he wears whenever he is making pasta with red sauce. Even Superman cannot stand against the ability of red sauce to end up on whatever you happen to be wearing. HE WAS SO CAREFUL THIS TIME, HOW DID A STAIN END UP ON HIS BACK THAT JUST MAKES NO SENSE. Clark Kent’s weaknesses: kryptonite, tomato stains.
  • His ability to perfectly imitate anyone’s voice was one of the first things to manifest themselves, but this wasn’t the kind of thing anyone noticed was weird. It definitely didn’t seem like a power. He was just a small child who could do a really good Kermit the Frog. He sang Rainbow Connection at a middle school talent show and all the moms cried.
  • He definitely has a playlist to cheer himself up and get pumped and it has Eye of the Tiger and You’re the Best on it. Probably also half the Top Gun soundtrack.
  • Clark Kent’s twitter is pretty standard snarky newsman except with more farming memes. No one can tell how ironic the farming memes are. They might not be ironic at all. Clark Kent might be really sincere, or he might just be so ironic that he has circled back around into sincerity. No one knows. He’s also really good at that thing where you retweet two things from a person that side-by-side reveal they are a dingus. I don’t know if there’s a word for that.
  • His Snapchat is all dogspotting, with occasional rare dance breaks. He’s a pretty good dancer since he found those YouTube tutorials. He does this thing with his hips that Lois finds deeply upsetting for reasons she cannot articulate.
  • Jimmy asked Clark how he got so fit once and Clark was like “uh, farming. farm. eyup.” But he kept pressing for deets and Clark ended up just telling him that he’d pulled a Milo of Croton??? He lifted a newborn calf over his head and then just did that every single day until he was lifting a cow over his head. Jimmy knows nothing about farming or cows or physical fitness and this seemed plausible enough to him.
  • He has a blog where he posts rejected articles and it is the wonkiest thing in the entire world because that is why they got rejected. Perry takes one look at these articles and is like “it will take more words than I want to pay you for just to explain the setup for this article and also there are five people total who care, in the world, including you”
  • He has to be really careful when he buys clothes because he needs to make sure that they aren’t too tight and he has full range of motion. He does not want to relive The Skinny Jeans Incident. Shirts that say ‘I flexed and the sleeves fell off’ are only funny until it happens to you, then they are just horrible reminders. Popped seams everywhere. There is no way to explain that without looking like a huge tool.
  • Even when Superman has a really shitty day he keeps it together until he gets home, but then he shuts the balcony door and peels off his costume and Clark does the Tina Belcher groan for like ten minutes while he takes a shower because he got covered in sewer mutant or space crab or god knows and UUUUUUUUUUGH. Fortunately the nice older lady in the apartment next door always seems to know when he has had a shitty day and she brings him pie.
  • She can hear his melodramatic bullshit from over at her place, that’s how she knows. They share a bathroom wall and it practically echoes. If she times it right he will answer the door before he has put a shirt on because he doesn’t want to leave her waiting in the hall. She does not know what his day job is and it definitely does not occur to her that he is Superman because her primary interaction with him is that he acts like a whiny bitch and she brings him pie so she can ogle him. She is a simple woman who enjoys life’s simple pleasures.
  • The Kryptonian language is really complicated in terms of tonality, context, word order, musicality, etc, and the written language reflects that. Things like the order things are in, how things overlap, colors, etc, are all important. So basically I really like the idea of his symbol being one that represents his family name and says that he is of the House of El. It’s really just basically his last name.
  • If Starfleet gets to have replicators then Krypton gets to have replicators and Jor-El definitely stuck one in the ship so his son would have, you know, food and clothing. But only Kryptonians can use their tech because they’re who the neural interface is designed for so whoops they got real lucky that Kryptonian babies love milk from Earth goats. Clark only started using the replicator later but it only knows how to make Kryptonian things and only some of those are useful to him.
  • Okay so here is where I tie those last two bullet points into something fucking dumb that you will take out of my cold dead hands: Clark got the costume out of the replicator. It didn’t necessarily understand what he wanted though? Like, the concept of a costume didn’t really translate, but it got the idea that he wanted an active uniform, so that is what it made. It’s brightly colored and has his last name on the front. Clark is wearing a Kryptonian football jersey is what I’m getting at. Later Kara will be VERY confused by this. Imagine ending up on an alien planet and meeting your cousin and he’s been fighting crime dressed like a quarterback.
  • Most telepathy does not work because different neural patterns. Diana can only manage it if she uses her lariat and even then it’s like trying to lasso a freight train that does not stop. It’s extremely disorienting. J'onn has just accepted that Superman can hear him but he’s not going to get anything back. It’s like the psychic equivalent of a dial tone for him. He’s trying to call his bro but their family has dialup. He tries not to fuck with it because he doesn’t want to poke around in Superman’s head blind and break something.
  • Clark can’t type with super speed because he’ll break the keyboard and the computer can’t keep up. Instead he uses shorthand along with a custom set of AutoHotKey macros and it is honestly infuriating how fast he can get things written with this setup. But also if he doesn’t have AutoHotKey on whatever he’s typing with then sometimes Lois will get an email like: ll] dyk f pw mde a dec wrt t $l stry? ]ck
  • A woman was told by her therapist to try talking to at least one person once a week but she decided to cheat by just talking to her empty apartment under the guise of telling Superman about her day because lol he can hear everything allegedly so this definitely counts and is what the doctor was going for with this. When she has to go to the hospital for a medical emergency she comes home and there is a note on her counter wherein Superman explains that he was worried because he hadn’t heard from her in a while, so he swung by to check on her. When he found out what happened he watered her plants and fed her goldfish and also that cat that he thought might be hers (she does not have a cat). She is completely mortified because she was just being full of shit she did not actually believe he could hear her oh god what all did she even say and whose cat is this???
  • Look if you are in Metropolis and you loudly say HEY SUPERMAN there is a very good chance he will hear it even if he doesn’t mean to. He is not trying to eavesdrop, that’s just what happens when you yell someone’s name in earshot.
  • He doesn’t wear the costume under his clothes because you may have noticed a running theme here where the universe is conspiring to ruin his clothes and leave him running around shirtless all the time. I mean thank god for the rest of us but he would rather not risk someone spilling their drink all over him somehow and suddenly his shirt is transparent and you can see the big S. It’s bad enough when it happens under ordinary circumstances. How often can one man get drinks spilled all over him? You would be shocked. Shocked. His eyes are up here, Lois.

“Did you really think a bunch of pawns could win against a king?”


anonymous asked:

dan is so beautiful and anyone who disagrees is lying. like have you seen that boy? he has slight curves and a soft face and his lips jesus christ. and gorgeous long legs and he has a little bit of a chub tum. everything about him is so soft yet he can go from holy shit to aww it literally two seconds and he looks gorgeous in literally everything.

i thought this answer needed some visual representation

like this is just a random liveshow screenshot?? hOW??

WHY WHY WHY yOU knOw what this is dOIng to us bOIIIIII

phil lester: photographer extraordinaire

fOr fUCk!!!!!

my heart is soft :(((

tHE squISHieST bOYe???

the purest human :((( 7 hours of training a week looks good on him

eXCUse mE????

he deserves all the happiness in the world :(( i’m so :(((


this entire panel was a blessing for our eyes

i will nEVer be over this. eVER.

more denim jacket dan 2kforever pls :(((

fRECKles???? so good man :((((

i would die for him

gLoRiouS. stUnNinG. what is existence honestly

truly, what have we done to deserve him. i need to lie down.


Flint (barely) standing upright with Jack in the room and then slumping down with exhaustion once he’s gone 😭😭

me talking shit about ricegum

i went to ricegum’s video and debunked each of his claims against ian/idubbbz. im copying it here for my own needs lmao

*Time to debunk each and every one of this cunt’s “points”*

1. *“The Rape Comment Was Really Old”* Doesn’t mean you’re not still an asshole, asshole.
2. *“Out Of Everyone, Why Is IDubbbz the One To Call Me Out on Rape?”* Please point out where Ian asks a rape victim if the rape felt good in front of an audience. Unlike you, Idubbbz is a persona, he was made for comedic reason. You’re just an asshole. He says it in a way where everyone knows he’s joking and everyone finds it humorous, asshole.
3. Oh look, a skit on making fun of you apologizing about a rape joke. Hilarious. Asshole.
4.* “I-I Had 2 Options, Be Boring and Play Video Games, or Play Video Games and Be A Lowkey Rapist and Perverted Asshole”*, Asshole.
5. *“It Just Slipped Out, I Mean, PewDiePie Said "Nigger”.“* Pewdiepie said nigger once and made a heartfelt apology explaining that he knew he was wrong and didn’t compare himself to other people to prove he was better. You said things multiple times, had no remorse and continued to do so, and gave a half-assed apology, asshole.
6. *"People Find it Funny That Ian Says "Nigger Faggot” so Why Can’t I be a Pervert"* Everyone who knows idubbbz can easily tell when he is/isn’t joking. Same with your shit content. Same with everyone. You got 4 black dudes who haven’t heard of idubbbz to watch idubbbz once and they got offended, yeah, no shit. He was joking. You were not. Asshole.
7. It’s hilarious how you apologize for sexualizing women by sexualizing a woman. Honestly, no hate to her, good on her, but why make her pole dance in this video? You can easily make another video? Asshole.
8. *“Idubbbz has deleted videos of his video gaming days”* Yes, and he brings them up almost all the time. I haven’t subscribed to him long enough to know what he used to do, but he brings up his slenderman gangnam style days every now and then. He’s not hiding them, dumb ass, and he’s not ashamed. He wanted his channel to be different so he deleted videos that didn’t fit into his criteria. Not because he was suddenly embarrassed, but because he wanted his channel to go a different direction, asshole.
9. *“Thanks for the views bro”* Jesus you’re a real cunt. What are you, fucking 12 years old? Christ.
10. *“Imagine being a young boy whos father took him into the city blah blah blah”* No one fucking cares, asshole
11. *“I’m going to keep flexing and I’m not sorry, but now I know not to show off everything I get”* this is the only good point of this video. Savour it.
12. *“But PewDiePie-”* God shut the fuck up? This video isn’t about pewdiepie. You can’t use him as a shield because he isn’t fucking part of it.Yes, Pewdiepie stretched his videos to 10 minutes a “handful” (as you called it) amount of times. And? _And?_ This video isn’t about him.  I genuinely can’t believe that this asshole tries to point the drama in a different direction every chance he possibly fucking can. I’m not even sure what to fucking say. Stop being a pussy and grow a pair.
13. “I Guess I’ll Learn Some New Words” That…wasn’t even the point of that part of the content cop. It was about how you felt like you were above someone else who called people irrelevant and made fun of them the way you do, asshole.
14. “How dare you tell me what is and isn’t a jOk e ??!!1!1!” Jesus. This point had no structure to it. He was just saying “fuck you” to iDubbbz and avoiding the criticism.
15. *“Being Recorded IRL w/o consent is Different from Being Recorded On Stream w/o consent”* This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. Have you forgotten that you were asking girls to take off their shirts/show cleavage/get nudes from these girls in front of an audience that they weren’t aware of? You are an idiot.
16. *“I need the 10k that i promised to someone else just in case”* Enough said. Not only are you a rich asshole, you’re a penny-pinching rich asshole.
17. *“I Can’t Vlog My Own Music Video”* The critique was that you were saying that YOU made the video and music and that YOUR video was great. If you want to talk about how the music that “YOU” make is great, credit the people who actually MAKE your music. Asshole.
18. *This is the point where ricegum completely avoids the ghostwriter allegations because he doesn’t want to admit that he has a ghostwriter. What a pussy.*
19. *“He’s Obsessed With Me”* By your definition, he’s also obsessed with LeafyisHere, Keemstar, the Fine Bros, Tana Mongeau, and everyone he’s ever done a content cop. Get off your own dick.

Didn’t watch through the diss track because I didn’t feel like having my ears bleed profusely. 


princess [draco malfoy]

request: nonexistent! this was directly out of my mind (’:

word count: ~3700

a/n: good jesus christ this one took far too long to write. this is my first post of the blog, though, so color me excited for what’s to come! also i’m so tired. this has drained my energy for some reason. ugh. please do request though i have nothing to write and my ideas sort of go everywhere when i don’t have a solid idea in mind! thanks for reading! <3

summary: in which a sarcastic comment has draco calling you “princess”. he’s also kind of an ass. a very attractive, rude ass. (contains swearing ofc)

Keep reading

Find Out (Connor Murphy X Reader)

WC: 2149

Warnings: Swearing, dorkiness, they early get kicked out of Bath and Body Works

Tagged: @lildipstick @bellasabb @ahhhhamilton

Summary: Y/N, Connor and Zoe decide to take a trip to the mall. Things escalate in Bath and Body Works

A/N: I combined two requests here. One for the general plot of this, and one for the reader wearing Connor’s sweatshirt.

I knocked on the door of the Murphy household, a bag slung across my shoulders. The door opened to reveal Mr Murphy, a slight smile on his face.

“Hello Y/N. I take it you’re here for Zoe.” He said and I nodded, smiling at him.

“Yes, Mr Murphy.” I said and Mr Murphy chuckled, leading me into the house. I took a seat at the breakfast bar  crossing my legs.

“Please, call me Larry.” He said and I smiled, nodding my head. Suddenly I heard footsteps, and I turned to see Zoe standing there, a smile on her face.

“Y/N!” Zoe called, pulling me into a tight hug. I chuckled, returning the embrace.

“I’ll leave you two to it. Just make sure the car comes back in one piece.” Larry said, chuckling as he deposited the car keys on the kitchen bench.

“Thanks dad. We’ll see you this afternoon!” Zoe said, letting go of me and pressing a kiss on her father’s cheek.

“You wanna head upstairs? I just have to sort some things out before we leave.” Zoe said and I nodded, trailing after her as she walked upstairs.

I walked into her room, and took a seat on her bed. “Hey, do you have a jacket I could borrow? I’m freezing my butt off right now.” I said and Zoe chuckled, sitting down next to me.

“Unfortunately, I do not because they’re all in the wash. However, Connor has like 50 jackets, so you can just steal one of his. I’m sure he won’t mind.” Zoe said and I nodded, feeling my cheeks heat up.

“His room is just next door.” Zoe said, pointing down the hall. I nodded, walking out to the room next to Zoe’s.

I walked into Connor’s room, praying to God he wasn’t in there. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding when I saw the empty room.

I noticed a black sweatshirt lying haphazardly across his bed, and I picked it up, feeling the soft fabric. I slipped it on, and noticed that it was considerably large.

I didn’t really care, because I was a lot warmer, and I felt a sense of comfort at the fabric enveloping me.

I walked into Zoe’s room, and Zoe smirked slightly at the sight of me in Connor’s sweater.

“You do realise that he adores that sweater, right?” Zoe said and my cheeks flushed pink as I fiddled with the hem of it.

“It’s really warm.” I muttered and Zoe chuckled, taking me by the wrist and leading me downstairs. We were back in the kitchen, and Zoe smiled widely at me.

“You ready to get going, Y/N?” Zoe said, picking up the car keys and tossing them about in her hands.

“I’m ready if you are.” I said, adjusting my bag slightly. We were about to walk out the door, but we were interrupted by Connor.

“Where are you guys going?” Connor asked, and I glanced over at Zoe awkwardly. Suddenly the sweater I was wearing seemed to weigh a ton.

“We’re going to the mall. What, you wanna join us or something?” Zoe said, putting her hands on her hips. Connor froze slightly, his eyes trained on me.

“I, uh, what are you, is that mine?” Connor stammered, pointing to my sweater. I felt my cheeks flush pink and I tugged on the sweater.

“Zoe didn’t have any and she said you wouldn’t mind if I borrowed one.” I blurted out, waving my hands about as I spoke.

Connor’s cheeks went pink, and Zoe smirked slightly. “Are you coming or not, Connor?” Zoe asked, her smirk widening.

“I, um, sure. What harm could it do?” Connor muttered and Zoe beamed, shooting me a not-so-sly wink.

“Awesome. Let’s go, then.” Zoe said, opening the door and marching out. We scrambled after her, and all piled into the car.

I was in the front next to Zoe, and Connor sat awkwardly in the back. “So, uh, what will this trip contain, exactly?” Connor asked, fiddling with his fingers.

“Well, we have to stop at Bath and Body Works because I have a gift card from Alana I wanna spend, and I know Y/N will want to stop at Hot Topic. She wouldn’t stop ranting about the new Guardians Of The Galaxy Volume 2 pop vinyls they got in.” Zoe said and I felt my cheeks burn.

“That, uh, that sounds cool. I like Hot Topic.” Connor said and I smiled slightly, much to Zoe’s amusement.

Zoe turned on the radio, and I relaxed, sinking into my chair slightly. Soon we were at the mall, and we all got out of the car eagerly.

“First stop is…” Zoe said, gesturing for me to give her a shop name.

“Hot Topic.” I blurted out and Zoe groaned, an affectionate smile on her face.

“Of course it’s Hot Topic. Let’s go then.” Zoe said, dragging both Connor and I along with her.

“So, uh, do you have a favourite Marvel movie?” Connor asked as we trailed behind Zoe.

“I love both the Guardians Of The Galaxy movies, obviously, but I do love The Avengers. The first one, that is.” I said, rambling slightly.

Connor chuckled, and nodded his head in agreement. “I could agree with that. I’m not a big Marvel fan, but I don’t mind The Avengers.” Connor said and I gasped, placing a hand on my chest.

“Next time I come over, we are having a Marvel movie marathon.” I said and Connor nodded, a slight smile on his face.

“I hate to interrupt whatever’s going on here, but we have arrived!” Zoe exclaimed, gesturing towards the store in front of us.

My smile widened as I marched in, taking in a deep breath. “And I’m home.” I muttered, earning a laugh from both of the Murphy siblings.

“Hey Y/N.” I turned to see my friend Jake behind the counter, a smile wide on his face.

“Hey Jake! You got those Volume 2 pop vinyls for me?” I asked and Jake chuckled, nodding his head.

“They’re out the back. Why don’t you guys wait here, and I’ll go get them?” Jake said and I nodded, smiling brightly at him.

“Thanks Jake!” I shouted, earning a laugh from him as he trailed away.

“So, uh, who’s that?” Connor asked, his voice suddenly a little lower than before.

“That’s Jake Dillinger. He and I go way back. I don’t know if he’s gonna have a maid of honour at him and Rich’s wedding, but if he does, I’ve called dibs.” I said and Connor’s eyes widened.

“Wait. Is he… gay?” Connor asked and I shook my head, leaning back on the counter.

“Nope. He’s pansexual, and Rich is bi, but they’re happy together.” I said and Connor nodded, and I noticed that he seemed a lot less tense now.

“Here we go! As per your request, we have the complete set! Star Lord, Rocket, Gamora, Drax, Mantis, Ego and last, but certainly not least, Baby Groot.” Jake said, dumping the boxes onto the counter.

“You’re a legend, Dillinger.” I said, handing him a fifty dollar bill. Jake took the bill and put it in the register, a smile on his face.

“So, how’re things with you and Rich going?” I asked as he packed the boxes into a bag for me.

Jake’s cheeks went red and I smirked, accepting my change. “Rich and I are going pretty steady. We went out to dinner last night, and it was awesome.” Jake said and I smiled at him.

“That’s great. Well, thanks for the pop vinyls. I’ll see you at the play, which I’m looking forward to seeing.” I said, winking at him. He chuckled and waved me off.

I looked around to see where Zoe and Connor had gone, and chuckled to myself when I saw them trying on various accessories.

“Yo, Murphy’s! Let’s go!” I called, and their heads whipped in my direction. They put down whatever they were holding and made their way over to me.

“Are you sure you can carry that bag? It looks pretty heavy.” Zoe said and I shrugged my shoulders.

“I’ve carried heavier. You keep forgetting that I was a scout when I was younger. We went on some pretty nasty hikes.” I said and Zoe nodded, walking alongside me.

“I didn’t know you were a scout.” Connor said and I smiled at him.

“Yeah. I wasn’t one for long because it was getting too expensive, but it was fun while it lasted.” I said, glancing over at Connor.

His hair was hanging loose, and his eyes were shining slightly. “You guys! We have arrived at Bath and Body Works. Aka, heaven!” Zoe said, and I chuckled to myself.

“Has she always been this obsessive over this store?” I asked Connor, and he started laughing loudly.

“For as long as I can remember, she’s had some weird love affair with this place.” Connor responded as we walked in.

I shook my head and looked over at Zoe, who was already sniffing various containers of body lotions and soaps.

“Jesus Christ.” I muttered, eliciting a laugh from Connor. I walked up to Zoe, and took a look at the vast wall of products.

I picked up a bottle of vanilla bean perfume, and sprayed a bit. I let out a sigh, the smell flooding my nose.

“Now I understand why you love this place so much.” I said, and Zoe gave me a knowing look.

“Connor looks so lost here, oh my god.” Zoe said, and I turned to look at Connor. I bit back a laugh when I saw him awkwardly walking around the store.

“Hey, Connor.” I called and he turned around, his eyes wide. “I have an idea.” I said, and Connor gave me a curious look as he walked towards me.

“What’s your big idea, Y/L/N?” Connor asked, crossing his arms over his chest. I smirked and whipped out the perfume bottle, suddenly spraying him.

“What the hell?” Connor said, swatting at the air around him. I cackled and put the bottle down, noticing the wide smile on Zoe’s face.

“Perfume war. Find the best, or worst, smelling perfume you can, and attack the other person with it. Ready? Go!” I said and Connor sprinted off, desperately trying to find a bottle.

I found one labelled Toasted Marshmallow, and I smirked, plucking it off the shelf. I snuck up behind Connor, but he turned around just as I sprayed the perfume.

“Jesus Christ! That tastes so bad, oh my god.” Connor said, wiping his mouth vigorously. I doubled over with laughter, and Zoe joined in.

“I take it that it doesn’t taste like marshmallow. What does it taste like?” I said, wiping away a stray tear.

“Why don’t you find out?” Connor said, and I gulped, getting ready to sprint off. What I wasn’t ready for was Connor placing his lips on mine.

I was so caught up in the feeling of Connor’s lips against mine, and his hands on my waist, that the horrid taste didn’t register instantly.

Unfortunately the taste did register, and I immediately pulled away when it did. I wiped my mouth, and Connor started cackling with laughter.

“Oh my god, your face!” Connor said, bending over and slapping his knee as he laughed.

“It’s not funny! That tastes awful!” I whined, scrubbing at the corners of my mouth.

“Now you know how I felt!” Connor exclaimed, running a hand through his hair.

“You’re so mean.” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. Connor’s face fell slightly, and he put a hand on my shoulder.

“But you’re ok, right?” Connor said and I nodded, glaring at him slightly. Connor smiled at me, and I felt my stomach fill up with butterflies at the gesture.

“Come on lovebirds. We should probably go before we get kicked out.” Zoe said, steering us out of the shop. I felt my cheeks heat up, and I noticed that Connor’s cheeks were pink as well.

“By the way, I, uh, I think you look really good in my sweater.” Connor said, and my stomach did a flip.

“Thanks.” I squeaked, pressing a tentative kiss to his cheek. Luckily, his skin didn’t taste like the perfume, and I took a hold of one of his hands.

“I really want to kiss you right now, but I know I can’t.” Connor whispered, and I froze slightly. My cheeks were probably redder than a tomato, but I didn’t care.

“You two are disgusting, ugh.” Zoe said, and Connor wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer to him.

“Us, disgusting? Never. What do you think, Y/N?” Connor said, and I shrugged my shoulders, still in a state of disbelief.

“I couldn’t agree with you more.”

ranking of octopus emojis

he scares me 1/5

a party boy! a happy boy! 4/5

too many thick lines, too serious 2/5

the friendliest of all!! and has the right amount of legs!! 5/5!

there is no life in those eyes 1/5

doesnt look like an octopus, not good, not organic 0/5

i love him!!!! very unique!!! 5/5

a very fancy boy, i fear him 3/5

he’s shaped like a friend, but dont be deceived, he has no soul 1/5

a good boy! his tentacles are uneven but thats okay! 4/5

the perfect friend, the perfect octopus 10/5

noot noot 3/5