#fuck sake i forgot derry girls

[eddiesmunsonn]

10 favourite shows!

Cheers for the tag @queseraone

Rules: Without naming them, post 10 gifs of your favorite tv shows then tag 10 people.

God that were well hard! I’ve probably missed some of my faves 😂 oh well I tag: @erin-lindsay , @h0llandshalstead, @pistachio-bitch @worldbyelly @jordm @annieedisan and whoever else wants to do it.

[skinks]

mr wentworth yes i help my son with his goofy voices yes i am a dilf tozier has the salt n pepper hair of god (oscar isaac) and the sexy librarian glasses to match

god I had never even considered that... the range of this...

Went starts going gray at 32 when Richie is 5 and it’s all the church women’s group can talk about... indirectly, of course. Oh, but he’s so young. Oh, he’ll be balding next. Oh I don’t know, doesn’t he look... distinguished? Mrs Nash from just down their street sees him doing rock-paper-scissors with his son Richard in the grocery store to determine whether or not Richard is allowed ice cream, and Dr Tozier is laughing because he’s winning, and he’s winning because Richard doesn’t know his father can see his little hidden hand reflected in the freezer cabinet, tucked behind his back. Richard’s laughing too, even though he’s losing, and bleats, “Again! Dad again,” eyes shining big as planets with coke-bottle rings.

“Don’t you know what best two out of three means? That was four draws ago.”

“No! No, I’ll win!” The boy shakes his head so hard his whole body rocks from side to side, then clings up at Dr Tozier’s middle with sticky hands. His very... trim middle. Helen’s own Rory, God love him, he enjoys a sudsy six-pack too much these days to keep a middle like that. “Two outta three! Three ice creams please Dad please please Dad please watch I can count to a hundred—”

“Well, we’re not playing hide-and-go-seek right now, Rich. And I beat you, didnt I?”

“Yeah!”

“Right. So why don’t you go get Dad six apples instead, alright? If you can do a hundred, six’ll be pie.” Dr Tozier claps his big hands gentle to the boy’s round cheeks, until they goldfish.

“Easy as,” they chant together. Helen props herself up with the handles of her own cart, the can of little hotdogs going slack in her hand.

“Six apples, then come right back. You got that, doc? You pick the color.”

Richard nods like he’s trying to detach his own head. Dr Tozier puts one hand just briefly on Richard’s dark mophead hair, like he’s giving the boy a blessing for his apple adventure. His hand is really quite broad, thinks Helen, popped out square at the thumb-joint. Matches that jawline of his, something whispers darkly in her stomach. Then the boy’s off, tearing down the aisle on a squeaking chariot of scuffed-gray sneakers and babbling what sounds like a Bugs Bunny impression, repeated on a loop. What’s up doc what’s up doc what’s up doc, fading around the corner to the fruit. Peculiar. Helen once saw the Tozier boy eat a worm at the park while pushing her youngest on the swings, after another solemn-eyed little boy with a faceful of freckles had carefully presented it to him in the sand box. Most peculiar.

Dr Tozier watches him go, then turns back to the freezer cabinet, and sticks two cartons of ice cream into his shopping cart—the very sugary kind. And the man is a dentist!

Helen puts her hand on her chest to calm the trilling schoolgirl rush of her heart, and then stops herself at the sight of her own wedding ring. Get a hold of yourself, Mrs Nash! For Pete’s sake! She trundles her cart over for some chit-chat. Afternoon, Doctor, she says, lovely weather. A perfect neighbourly opener. It is lovely; bright and warm and clear and golden, like honey outside. She’s quietly smug about her new blowout. Dr Tozier is wearing a crisp shirt with buttons like neat soldiers and short sleeves, exposing lean forearms. Yes, a lovely day. Helen swallows.

“Yes, good for the lawn,” replies Dr Tozier.

“We missed Margaret at book club this week,” Helen hedges.

“Oh, that’s right,” says Dr Tozier, and the fine lines at the corners of his eyes when he grins are even more distracting without the facemask he’s usually wearing, when Helen drops in for her check-ups. He pushes his spectacles up the strong slope of his nose. They’re wiry like him, steely gray to match his eyes. “She meant for me to tell you, or Diana. Maggie’s been in Skowhegan for the week at her mother’s. My mother-in-law is a woman of... nervous disposition, shall we say. Maggie didn’t think she’d cope with two Tozier men at once, now that Richie’s started losing his teeth.”

“Ohhh,” Helen coos. That must explain the ice cream. She puts her hand near to Dr Tozier’s arm, then away, then near, then away again for good. A neighbourly distance. Margaret is a lovely, lucky woman, even if she does wear flared pants. Hippie to yuppie pipeline’s alive ‘n’ flowin’, Rory always grunts whenever the Toziers come up in conversation. Helen imagines a picket fence between their bodies, and calms. “My Wendy was the same, I’m sure you remember.”

“Yes,” says Dr Tozier mildly. “You brought her in six times as I recall it, Mrs Nash.”

Mrs Nash. Honestly, like she’s his schoolteacher. It’s a little rude. Admittedly he does look quite, quite young with his faintly curling weekend-hair, if not for the new gray blazing a trail back from his temples like virgin snow. Helen is undeterred, even if something quivers inside at the thought of the word virgin in conversation with Dr Tozier. Music tinkles tinny through the ceiling speakers, and it puts Helen in mind of potted plants, or elevators. This is a lovely chat. “Well, you hate to see them suffer, don’t you? I’m sure Richard’s the same, lots of tears—”

“No, actually, Richie keeps on finding things to hit himself in the face with and knock out more teeth,” Dr Tozier interjects. He raises his eyebrows and speaks hushed, as if this is a secret for Helen’s ears alone. The thought makes her dizzy. “It’s my fault, I made the mistake of giving him a quarter for the first one. That’s why he’s not invited to Grandma’s. Lot of antiques.”

“Oh,” says Helen, taken aback. She has three girls; little boy behavior is as yet mystifying. “Well.”

“I’m joking, Helen,” Dr Tozier says cheerfully.

“Oh. I—I see. What a relief.”

He opens a freezer chest to examine a bag of frozen peas. “Maggie’s mom is deaf as white cat, she’d never notice.”

Helen tries to wipe her clammy hands on her dress without being obvious. Her face is hot, but she hopes her cardigan conceals the effect that the chill of the freezer aisle is having under her bra. She also hopes that it doesn’t.

He really does have such a slender, pleasant face, always with an air of casual, amused expectancy hanging around him. Haloing him, like that bright yellow light above the chair in his practice, blocked out when he leans over and slips his fingers inside. Helen supposes that’s what graduating medical school must do to a man, what marrying and fathering young and having one’s own practice by the end of such a turbulent decade as the nineteen-seventies must elicit. The ability to put people at ease, to—to say open wide and know the people of Derry trust him enough to comply. To open themselves. Helen’s breathing catches. Dr Tozier idly checks his sensible watch, still smiling the unhurried smile of a man who very rarely does his own grocery shopping anymore. Everyone knows you pick up the ice-cream last.

Helen gathers herself. This is the longest conversation she has entertained with Dr Tozier without children or the squeaking of latex gloves between them, and she’s gripped by the terribly silly need to be interesting. “Speaking of white cats, I couldn’t help noticing your hair, Wentworth—”

“DADDY!”

Dr Tozier blanches, whipping around to scan the end of the aisle. He is a long line of tense instinct tuned to thrum into action at one specific frequency, knuckles white on the cart handle. His cart bumps into Helen’s. It is thrilling.

“Fuck,” Dr Tozier mutters, and that’s thrilling too, he swore, oh, the boy’s probably fine Wentworth, don’t go, why don’t we just stay right here with the frozen goods and—

Then Richard comes barrelling back down the aisle like a colt on new legs covered in old Band-aids, with his arms full. The fluorescent strip-lights gleam white on Dr Tozier’s broad shoulders and he sags, like snow dropping from a branch, with relief.

“Hey, lunkhead,” he says, sounding shaky, but Richard is only five and would never know it. He’s babbling again. Seems to Helen like the boy’s as a hydrant overflowing on a hot day; entertaining and welcomed at first, until it becomes a nuisance when you begin to understand it won’t shut off, and have to call the firemen.

“Nyyeeeeeah,” Richard greets his father, tousled and bug-eyed with clear adoration, breathing hard from his Supermarket Sweep. Then he makes the carrot-noise. Looks like Bugs, Helen thinks of the boy’s new adult front teeth, the beaverish jut of them exacerbated by his missing canines on either side. Then she feels abruptly un-neighbourlike for being jealous of a child for his father’s attention, good grief.

Dr Tozier regards his son for a long moment. Then says, “What’s up, doc?” in a spot-on Mel Blanc whine. Richard giggles so hard his too-big glasses start slipping. “How many apples is that?”

“Gotta apples and I was gonna put ‘em in a bag but I forgot and Dad, Daddy look, s’a dinosaur on the box for my dinner when Mommy’s at Grandma’s—”

Dr Tozier sighs, putting one hand on his hip and dragging the other over his clean-shaven mouth, watching Richard drop his armfuls everywhere, scattering the linoleum. He has two apples, four boxes of brightly colored cereal, a handful of pencils topped with cartoon-character erasers, and a kiwi fruit. For a moment, Helen sees the shining enamel of Dr Tozier’s everything-will-work-out-with-another-cup-of-coffee amusement slip, wear away to worry underneath.

“Rich,” he says, interrupting Richard’s blabbermouth, firm and patient. Helen’s thighs burn suddenly under her skirts at the tone of his voice, and she looks down, rearranging her own groceries. She should leave them to get on. She could offer to help. Margaret’s out of town, poor things, they probably haven’t eaten a cooked meal all week!

“Richie,” Dr Tozier says again. “Listen and pay attention when Mom or me ask you to do something, remember? How many apples did I ask you to get?”

Richard has to crane his neck to meet his father’s eyes. Dr Tozier is one of the tallest fathers in the Derry Elementary catchment zone, Helen has checked. “Six!”

“And how many’ve you got, Elmer Fudd?”

“Um.” Richard’s pale little face creases in thought, then brightens. When he speaks again his voice is strange, accented. “Twooo.”

“Some apple hunter you are, huh.”

“Sorry, Daddy.”

“That’s fine.” Dr Tozier stoops to gather Richard’s detritus, and Helen knows she has something to contribute, watching the boy stick one of the pencils up his nose.

“You know, apples are very good for you,” she says. Richard turns to her, slack-jawed, as if seeing her for the first time. “You should listen to your Daddy, Richard, an apple a day keeps the doctor away.”

Richard stares for another few seconds. Then he bites down on his boogery pencil so that it threads through the gaps in his teeth, and hollers, “MY FRIEND BILL SAID THAT’S A PILE OF BULLSHIT.”

“No shouting indoors, Rich,” says Dr Tozier, still gathering. Helen rocks a step backwards, clinging to her cart like a life-preserver.

“Bill and my’s friend Eddie eats a thousand apples and sees the doctor all the time though Dad, and Miss Spiegel said if we eat apples we don’t have to see the doctors but Eddie eats them and—Bill said—”

“Pile of bullshit, yeah, I liked it. Bill’s an eloquent guy,” says Dr Tozier. This is the second time Helen has ever heard him curse in as many minutes. It comes out easy and amused as everything else does in his pleasant tenor. His legs and his jaw are so lean and angular that Helen can see the suggestion, the shadow of the shape of his perfect, swearing teeth through his cheek as he grins helplessly at his son, the fruit of his loins and someone else’s loins who isn’t Helen, and all of a sudden she feels a slick pulse of wet heat, up between her thighs.

She squeaks. Flutters her hand to her face without knowing why, perhaps to catch the noise before Dr Tozier notices, just another quivering Derry leaf tossed along by his breezy manner. He looks up anyway, with a frown.

“Everything alright, Helen?”

“Just—fine, yes,” she manages. Dr Tozier is still down on one knee, kindly face level with her skirts. She can see right down under his starched collar from this angle, a slivering glimpse of smooth, dark hair. No undershirt. Helen has lain naked against Rory’s nakedness before without feeling this alive, in every part of her body. She feels like a heart, beating.

“Oh, hang on.” Dr Tozier says, eyes widening, and turns Richard by the shoulders to face her. One pencil for each nostril, now. “Apologize to Mrs Nash for cussing, Richie.”

“Sorry!” Richard shouts, sounding less like he’s apologizing and more like he’s just deemed Helen it during a game of tag.

Helen is still floating in a dazed state of mild panic. Like a prey-mouse, bewitched into slack compliance by her own body’s snaking desires. “That’s alright, dear.”

F-word, Dr Tozier had said. Maybe cussing could be quite neighbourly when applied in the right context, thinks Helen.

“You mentioned my hair, earlier,” says Dr Tozier, straightening back up with a knowing sort of arch to his eyebrow as he smiles genially at Helen. He tilts his head down at Richard. “There’s the reason. Every last one, sprinkled onto my head at the tender age of thirty-two by the great salt-and-pepper shaker of fatherhood. Especially this week, with Maggie on sabbatical. Had to bring you to work with me, didn’t I, buckaroo?”

Richard bites and swings and tugs on his father’s long arm, a tearaway kitten with a much obliging scratching post. Dr Tozier hardly seems to notice. “Yeah! Daddy’s got fishes at work!”

Dr Tozier grimaces slightly at Helen, but also as if he’s seeing right through her to some past unnamable horror. “I liked those fish. Calmed down the nervy patients.” He sighs again.

Helen wonders briefly whether or not the residents of Dr Tozier’s waiting-room fish tank suffered the same fate as that worm in the park, and decides she’d rather not know.

“Well, you needn’t worry about it,” she says, gamely. She watches her hand reach towards Dr Tozier’s silver-black brindle, then snatches it back from his bland expression to brush the tips of her own feathered-out hair. “The gray, I mean.”

Dr Tozier blinks.

“It’s very—that is to say, you look, it makes you look, I mean, I think it’s—”

Dr Tozier’s left eyebrow joins his right, raised up high.

A tidy little jet of hysteria shoots up from Helen’s knotting stomach to spin like a top in her chest. She hears herself stutter out the word, “Dashing,” and immediately wishes to flee the store, leaving her cart abandoned like so much collateral damage.

But Dr Tozier only barks a laugh, a short, smooth hah like everything else he says. Entirely unperturbed. “Well, thank you.”

Too unperturbed. Helen is struck by a sudden bolt of terror, at the thought of the things Dr Tozier must surely hear every day, when people are lulled by the hypnotically intimate environment of a dentist’s chair and a touch of the laughing gas. Oh, this is terrible. Her face is on fire.

“But they—they make products for men now,” she says, and why, oh why can’t she stop talking? “Hair dyes, I mean, if it really does bother you? I’ve seen them in Keene’s.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” says Dr Tozier, looking down at Richard then with a soft edge, at his bouncing noise and scabbed knees and gently curling hair like a black spaniel’s. Like his father’s. “I find I’m rather grateful for it, truth be told.”

“Plus,” he continues, as if Helen wasn’t already melting harder than the Tozier’s ice-cream, as if Johnny Kitchener the shop-boy isn’t going to have to come along with a mop and bucket to clean up on aisle seven, “Maggie’d kill me if I got rid of it.”

Then Dr Tozier winks.

Oh Lord, oh Lord, Helen’s whole ribcage is so tight she can’t squeeze out a reply, because who could blame dear, pretty, annoyingly friendly, lucky, lucky, lucky Margaret for that when Dr Wentworth Tozier DMD is so—

So f—

So fffffff—

So fiddlesticksing handsome!

“Well, we’d best not keep you, Helen. This one is in dire need of a bath before his mother sees him, and hands me a divorce on the spot,” Dr Tozier says, when another few moments have passed and all Helen can do is try to desperately smooth the creases from her breathing. He’s humming mild interest at something Richard is saying, knelt back down to the linoleum to tie the boy’s loose-worm laces presumably before he gives himself any more skinned knees, and they’re leaving. Dr Tozier is leaving, and Helen hasn’t done anything but act like a ninny this entire time. She doesn’t want him to think her a ninny, a simpleton. She wants him to leave this bright, liminal church of bold colors and jazzy waiting-room music and return to his lemon-yellow two-storey house thinking my, what a lovely chat I had with Helen Nash.

She wants to linger, as he lingers. Like an amiable spirit hanging over the women’s group at church, waiting to be summoned at a moment’s eager notice. I bumped into Dr Tozier at Palmer’s on Saturday, she’ll say to the other jealous ladies, with triumph, and we had such a nice talk. He called me Helen.

“And when—when does Margaret get home?” she blurts. A very secret part of Helen wants Dr Tozier to leave this conversation with Helen and his wife both, entwined by association in his mind. She tries very hard not to think about the Toziers divorcing, because that is un-neighbourly, and feels least neighbourly of all when a dopey, dreamy look crosses Dr Tozier’s face like a brief sunbeam at her question.

“Ah. Tonight. Not too late, hopefully.” He jerks one of his knuckley thumbs at his shopping cart, licking the other to wipe something unidentifiable from Richard’s grubby face. “That’s why we’re here, stocking up for her miraculous return. Like a couple of noble emperor penguins in Antarctica, eh Rich?”

“Penguins like from Batman! Ka-pow.”

Helen takes a peek into their cart, curiosity getting the better of her now that permission is granted. Dr Tozier might not know it, but looking into another person’s cart is bad grocery etiquette, especially in a town like Derry, where gossip grows like a fungus in every sweaty and close little huddle of people. Not that Helen would know about that. Anyway, there isn’t much to gossip about besides the unfortunately liquefied ice-cream, the severe lack of crunchy vegetables characteristic of a young man in 1981 trying to provide for a tooth-shedding son, and—

A little cardboard box. Tossed unashamedly between the Wonderbread and a magazine about sports. Prophylactics. Rubbers.

36-pack. XL

Helen knows her jaw is hanging open and strains to close it, the back of her neck and her shoulders feeling hot and tight and shuddery. She kneads a fist into her skirts. Crosses her legs at the ankles as demurely as she knows how, because the very last thing she needs is for frank, sensible Dr Tozier to see right through her with that easy doctor-patient-confidentiality smile, and know she’s soaking through her underwear at the sight of his Saturday grocery run, and all it implies.

Dr Tozier is laughing, nudging Richard in the direction of the register, or perhaps the apples. “Ka-pow is right. I’ll make sure to use that on Mom, thanks. Say hello to Rory for us, Helen. Have a nice day,” he says from over his shoulder, startling her. Holds up one long hand in a wave with a grin, and is gone, shadowing the boy’s haphazard attempts to push the cart despite not being able to see where he’s going.

Helen stands amongst the humming freezers, trembling. “You too,” she rasps, but Dr Tozier has rounded the corner, and is evidently going to have a nice day and a much nicer night, regardless of whether Helen wishes it for him or not.

All the bright little branded characters are watching her from their shelves, a silent jury. Helen Nash opens a freezer cabinet with a weak arm, and stands there for a while, staring at a leg of ham and thinking cooling, neighbourly thoughts.

[misc-headcanons]

OK so One Piece x Derry Girls

For the sake of simplicity, I think they'd name themselves the Derry Pirates. They each have a different Jolly Roger for themselves, but the ship's/crew's symbol is a skull with the Irish flag's colors on an eyepatch and a rainbow pin on one of the crossbones.

Erin and Michelle are constantly in debate over who's the captain of the crew, but most of the actual responsibilities fall on Clare and James (who are the only real functional ones in this chaotic group anyway). When people ask who the captain is, they say that true rebels buck all kinds of traditions--even ones like "your pirate crew needs a fucking captain"

Orla's got powerful Observation Haki, but nobody in the crew (including her) realizes it. She once bumped into Lucci at Water 7 and swore that he was "a bloody were-cheetah" because of some blood on his lips (it was just some wine he forgot to dab off) and the spotted pattern on the tie he was wearing.

Clare and James are a lot like Usopp in that at the first sign of danger, they're begging the group to reconsider and to just turn around. Orla's like Luffy and Zoro in that she wants to jump head first into danger, whereas Michelle and Erin are somewhere in the middle.

Michelle gets heart eyes like Sanji when she sees a guy she likes, and she's constantly wandering off to chase after whoever's caught her eye. If she gets any unwanted advances though, she kicks the ass of whoever's flirting with her. Helmeppo a) in uniform and b) not realizing she was OBVIOUSLY a pirate tried flirting with her at a bar and she promptly told him to "fuck off, you ball-chinned, bowl-cutted fuckin' bootlicker"

Like the Straw Hats, they've got various dreams of their own. Erin wants the glory of finding the One Piece, Michelle wants to find the handsomest ride in the world and buck him senseless, Clare wants the freedom to explore the world outside of Isreland (😏), Orla wants to arm wrestle a polar bear and also find out if Gol D. Roger's got any spare coats on Raftel ("His red one he got his head chopped off in was so cracker, and red's definitely my colour"), and James wants to actually find out what the hell the One Piece is and why everyone in the world's killing each other to get it.

Their families only find out about them leaving after they've gotten their wanted posters and have their picture in the news after a major clash at a Marine-occupied island. Clare and James are trying not to die and are running away from an explosion, Michelle's the one CAUSING this explosion because she's hurling molotovs at the local Marine base, Erin's smacking a Marine officer silly because they DARED to rip her new top, and Orla's smiling and waving at the cameraman with her trusty Bowie knife in her hand.

[richietozierluv]

valentine’s day - (richie tozier) part 1 of 2

part 2

Pairing: Richie Tozier x Reader

Summary: You and Richie were... to say the least, ‘hanging out’. But sooner or later someone was bound to catch feelings, and sooner or later the others would find out.

Author’s Note: I know this is super, super late. LIKE SUPER LATE. But dear god I’ve been so busy with assignments and I’ve been so tired, but I thought I’d make it up to you guys by making it a two parter?

Request/s: @cyborgfromthesupermarket HELLOOOO I FRICKING LOVE YOU YOU ARE ONE OF THE BEST BLOGS OUT THERE AND I WAS HOPING YOU COULD DO A REQUEST WHERE Is like valentines day and richie and reader are together and like their school is doing this roses exchange and like all the girls in the class are getting roses except for y/n bc richie forgot to buy them and like y/n doesn't care but richie feels bad and like makes something amazing to compensate it (sorry if its weird)

@queenpheebs the losers club catches the reader and Richie making out PS YOU DONT HAVE TO DO IT IF YOU WANT

Word Count: 2,163

Warnings: Swearing

For the most part, you couldn’t give a rat’s ass about ‘that day in February’, and even more so, each year it only became harder to pretend to enjoy Beverly’s take on her date with Bill and all the things he’d gotten her. You didn’t understand how she came to be this person who enjoyed flowers, teddy bears and corny shit; until now. If it hadn’t been for the others catching you making out with Richie Tozier in the school bathrooms, you wouldn’t be bouncing on your feet as you walked home, wondering if this finally meant you’d receive the sappy card, and disgusting box of chocolates you hadn’t realized you’d wanted until now.

It had all started a few weeks ago when you found yourself blushing at his dirty jokes rather than cursing him out for them. While alone, your insults towards each other became endearing compliments, sparks between each hand touch, and the mere act of you calling Richie ‘pretty’, enough to make him flustered and duck inside, so as not for you to see him laugh and smile. But of course, instead of confronting his feelings, Richie did the next worst thing. He kissed you.

For a while, that steadied both of your heartbeats, and everything seemed normal between the two of you. You stopped blushing at all of his jokes, and he could even stand to look at you without imagining you as the future Mrs Tozier. But only with the weekly occurrence of a make out session to keep your feelings (and lips) intact.

This had soon become a daily routine. Wake up, hang with friends, ‘go separate ways’, and kiss Richie. Wake up, hang with friends, ‘go separate ways’, and kiss Richie. On and on, until he found every excuse to get you alone and away from the others, not wasting a moment as soon as you were both out of sight to grab your face and go at it. Of course you’d both wondered if it’d be easier if you just told the group that you guys were a ‘thing’, but with that came the question of whether or not you were actually a ‘thing’. The topic had come up dozens of times, but neither of you had the guts to tell one another that you thought you were falling in love. Which brings us to you making out in the school bathrooms. After a month of holding hands under desks, sneaking around to the bike racks, and teasing each other in the school hallways, someone was bound to break character. It came as no surprise that it was Richie.

“Richie, what are you doing?” you were pulled through the crowd of students, half laughing, half thinking, this little shit is going to get us caught. “Rich, I need to go get my notes from Mike,”

“Like hell you need to,” he turned around, still pushing through the crowd, “you’ve already got with you the best tutor in Derry,” he winked. Ben stood by Beverly’s locker, watching Richie pull you along as a note slipped through his hands and through the grates in the metal, his eyes following after you as Richie turned into an empty classroom.

“I think I only have it in me to say this once, so- wait,” he made his way over to where you stood leaning on a desk and pulled you close into his arms, kissing you slowly, and for once being the first one to pull away. You smiled at him adoringly, as he opened and closed his mouth, playing nervously with his hands.

“If this is your way of getting us both a detention so that we have an excuse to stay late after school, can I just suggest something else? Come over to mine Rich, my school record’s bad enough as it is.”

He started to pace in front of you, and unknowingly, Ben watched through the classroom window.

“Y/n, I- I really like what we’ve got going on,” his face turned red, “but I reckon even if I kissed every girl I met, I’d still want to end the day kissing you.”

You bit back a smile, shaking your head, “Is this your way of telling me that you like me?”

“It could be- but- pfft, if you don’t think that’s rad or whatever, then I totally didn’t mean it,”

“You’re a dick, Trashmouth.”

His face fell, and in an attempt to laugh it off, he choked on his own spit.

“An absolute div,” you stepped towards him and took hold of his hand. He quickly realised what was happening, and tried to relieve himself of his coughing fit, unable to breathe in complete awe that you actually might like him back. For more than my hot piece of ass, he thought.

“You’re out of bounds!” the teacher’s high heels clicked against the linoleum, and Ben jumped, both at the sight of Richie sticking his tongue down your throat, and at the shrill voice coming towards him.

“I- I was just looking for a friend,” he stammered, falling back from the classroom door and making a point to squint down the hallway behind himself.

“I’ll let your friend know you were looking for them as I’m giving them a detention. Go to lunch.”

Ben found himself stuck, just as you did against Richie, not knowing whether to warn you both or take a chance that she wouldn’t look through the window. Luckily, you’d taken a moment to breathe, and had pulled yourself away from him, only to notice the lack of light in the classroom, and Ben’s shadow being the source.

“Oh shit!” you ducked down and crawled behind the teacher’s desk, pointing at the door when Richie hadn’t followed suit. Despite feeling a little claustrophobic and hot waiting for the coast to be clear, Richie found himself too excited with the prospect of your legs against his, and whispered, “I really, really think I’m falling for you Y/n,”

“Are you kidding me Richie? Is now really the time?”

“It’s only Ben- and now that we, y’know, said some things…”

“There’s a teacher too, you dweeb,” you glared at him. But then you both found yourselves in a fit of laughter, eyes scrunched up, faces red, and spitting everywhere. And if circumstances were different, you would’ve said, “I think I’m falling for you too Rich.”

Light spilled on to the floor, catching Richie’s shoe, but as the teacher stepped into the room she was distracted by the broken light switch, cursing under her breath. Richie pulled his knees together, bumping his head against the desk and although he couldn’t see, earned an obscene hand gesture from you, and a muttered, “for fucks sake Richie, any longer and I would’ve personally shoved your knees so far up your ass-“

The sound of heels clicking against the floor grew further and further away, so you both stood up from under the desk and stared at each other in the little light that was left in the room. You were angry at him, not for any reason in particular, but god knows what your parents would’ve said if you’d gotten another detention, and even worse, for sneaking around with a boy.

“It’s not my fault my legs hit a growth spurt before any other part of my body,” he said, this time earning a kick in the shins before you headed towards the door.

“Whatever,” you peered into the hallway, stepping out as the high heels disappeared into another classroom a few doors down, “do you just wanna go make out in the bathrooms?”

“Yeah, okay.”

Ben was quiet all through lunch, not having touched his food, unable to decide what he thought about the whole ‘you and Richie’ situation. He’d looked up just as the seventh spitball landed on his shoulder, coming face to face with Mike, who was waving his hand comically in front of him.

“Anyone in there Haystack?” he turned to the others and shrugged his shoulders. Beverly’s next spitball landed on the end of Ben’s nose, and even though that hadn’t shaken him from his thoughts, the boys cheering loudly in his ears certainly did. His lunch tray jumped out of his hands and fell flat on to the table, not looking any worse for wear.

“You thinking about writing me another poem this year?” Bev nudged his foot with hers, smiling sweetly, and although his face turned red, he confidently said, “Don’t sweat it, Bev.”

“How ‘bout y-you Stan? And p-plans for the big d-d-day?”

“It never changes Big Bill. I’ve got a date with my binoculars,” Stan didn’t look up from the book he was reading.

“Oh so you and Richie are finally going to third base?” Eddie laughed, and a perfectly timed spitball landed in his open mouth; another round of applause for Beverly as Eddie’s face turned significantly whiter than before, and he found himself retching to the side of the lunch table.

In all the commotion, Ben almost couldn’t be heard, “I saw Y/n and Richie making out upstairs.” Almost.

It was as if everyone had swallowed a spit ball at once, Beverly hitting Stan on the back as he choked on his shock, and Mike falling so far back in his chair that the entire lunch room now watched and stared at the back of his head meeting the ground with a loud THUD. Bill was the first to speak, for once without a stutter, and in one breath, “Sorry, I thought you just said that you saw Y/n and Richie making out?”

“I think so,” Ben’s face flushed red again as all eyes turned on him, “the room was pretty dark, and some teacher told me to get lost, but for the most part? It all makes sense doesn’t it?”

Eddie sat up, the swig of water doing nothing to help his now raspy voice, “What do you mean?”

“They’re always coincidentally leaving at the same time. And Richie’s altogether stopped being a div recently-“

“He hasn’t stopped fucking with me!”

“Yeah well, Eddie, you’re too easy of a target,” Mike said apologetically.

While they listed off the all too obvious signs that they’d somehow missed, Richie pushed you against the door to the girl’s bathroom, hardly able to see where he was going with your face against his.

Your hand became tangled in his hair, and unable to let go in the heat of the moment, pulled him closer, as you both backed into the closest stall. The same one Beverly had tagged three years ago; BM + BD.

“I-I’m gonna g-g-go look for th-them,” Bill stood up, and despite Ben begging him not to, the losers soon found themselves looking into the window of the classroom you’d just escaped from. “I thought y-you said they w-were in here?”

Before Mike could say that maybe the teacher had found you, Richie had fallen on top of you and you’d both cursed as your limbs hit the porcelain toilet, and your heads knocked together. Stan looked round at the others, as if he were looking into a camera, unable to believe that after all this sneaking around, you let yourselves get caught by being complete loud-mouthed idiots.

You looked at Richie, as though in a brand new light. The bathroom windows cast a yellow reflection across his face, and his cheeks began to burn. He pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and covered his eyes from the sun, cocking his head. “What are you looking at me like that for?”

“I just really like you Richie Tozier,” and you pulled him forward by his collar, kissing him once again. Your head hit the side of the stall wall at the sound of a cough, and when your eyes met with Ben’s, he shrugged and mouthed a ‘sorry’.

“Fucking Tozier and Y/l/n, should’ve seen it coming,” said Beverly, looking at you with a mixture of ‘I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,’ and ‘it’s about time!’ lending you a hand to stand up. You were pulled down by your legs, still tangled with Richie’s, again and again, thanking god that the others, apart from Stan, stared at anything else but you. Richie stood up next to you, and it felt as if you could cut the tension with a knife. No one knew what to say. For as long as you’d all known each other, it’d become a custom to assume that nothing would change. But this, Stan finally couldn’t stand it any longer.

“How long has this been going on exactly? Because last time I checked, you were at each other’s throats for an entirely different reason,” he crossed his arms.

“Uh, I – we,” Richie looked to you, hand on the back of his neck, “a few months?”

“WHAT?!” Stan, Bev, and Bill yelled altogether. Mike had to take a step back, only now just realising Richie’s hand was holding yours behind him.     

an: I’LL GO INTO MORE DETAIL IN THE NEXT PART BUT I DIDN’T REALIZE HOW LONG THIS WAS UNTIL I GLANCED OVER AT THE WORD COUNT, anyways for those who requested, thank you for being so patient! Again, I’m super sorry for the delay, but I’ll work on the next part asap

tagged: @riverdalerebel​ @johnsonxstilinski @littlepaperaeroplanes @tn22220-blog @goshdarnitthatsalongname @beepbeeprichtozier @emmaamalie

[evakviigmohns]

softie [beverly marsh]

A/N: heeeey, it’s sofia again. okay so this is going to be a few headcannons for punkie!reader and softie!beverly bc im a piece of trash for that concept lol. i’m also gonna be posting a bill imagine later so yeah¿¿¿¿¿¿ don’t forget to send requests & all of that stuff bc i have nothing to do lmao. hopefully u will enjoy this lil piece of garbage!!! thank u!! SORRY 4 THE REPOST I JUST FIXED UP SOME STUFF

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

-LET’S SET THINGS STRIAGHT!!!!!

-u are not

-IM SORRY I HAD TO DO THAT BUT NOW I AM SERIOUSLY STARTING

- okay so let’s say you are a 16 year old, leather jacker wearer, who drives motorcycles and hooks up with people in the back of your dad’s camaro

-beverly is the girl who helps little children with their classes, has flowers is her hair ALL THE TIME and is loved by everyone just cause she is a cutie

- total opposites, right? Like, how on earth would the local cutie and local punkie end together? well, thanks to the project on human anatomy that you had to do together

- Professor Wheeler had assigned you together cause you were oddly good in biology while Beverly honestly sucked.

- At first, you only spoke the necessary to get the project done but as time went by you started to actually enjoy beverly’s company and she started to like yours.

-that’s how the weeks went by and you became friends

-one day, you were hanging out with her at derry’s local diner that was 50’s themed

-the strawberry milkshake with two straws in between of you as you saw Beverly who just kept staring at you

-“see anything you like, marsh?” the redheaded smiled at her dear friend in front of her and took a sip of the milkshake. “your eyeliner is pretty good” “thanks?” YN smiled at Beverly “wanna teach me?” the YEC-eyed girl nodded at her friend in front of her “it’s a date.”

-after that, you just kept talking about beverly’s plans for the future and at 9 pm you said goodbye to each other with a kiss on the cheek and a hug and then headed home.

-the clock marked 11 pm as the clouds of smoke around started to slowly disappear, you were laying in your bed with your eyes red and puffy as you thought about your encounter of before with Beverly

-you knew that it wasn’t a real date it was just the two of you, hanging out at your place like you’ve done many times but there was something about this one that truly made you wish it was more than just two friends helping each other with make up

-yes, YN YLN, derry’s very own teenage heartthrob, was catching feelings for Beverly marsh

-i mean, how can you not catch feelings for Beverly fucking marsh?

-with her stupidly cute smile, and her annoyingly beautiful eyes and her fucking precious laugh how was she not going to conquer your heart?

-so, it’s friday and you are walking back home with Beverly

- it’s really fucking cold and your arm is around beverly’s shoulders, so she can warm up a little because fOR FUCK’S SAKE BEVERLY THINK ABOUT YOUR CHILDREN

­-yes, you referred to the kids that received classes from Beverly as her children and they called her aunt bev [ A/N HOW CUTE IS THAT FDNKJFNJKDF]

-also, I forgot to mention this, but Beverly is like 5’ and for the sake’s of this headcannons reader is like 5’7

-okay, so you guys finally arrive to your place and you go upstairs to your room and leave the backpacks along with the jackets or such in top of your bed

-you tell bev that the make up and all the stuff you might need is in the first drawer and you are leaving to get a glass of water and before you leave, you softly grab her wrist and ask her if she wants to eat something

-you feel her tense under your touch and you are like ??????????? is she nervous bc of me???????

- cockiness activated

-but you don’t say anything because you really don’t want to make her upset because seeing beverly upset is truly the last thing in the world that you want

-she says no but when you come back from the kitchen you made her a sandwich and she just smiles in awe when she sees you

-“going soft on me, YLN?” “ha ha, fuck you, marsh”

-you both are sitting in your bed and you are trying to explain her how to do a winged eyeliner but her hands are slightly shaking whenever she get’s closer to your face

-yes, she is practicing in your face

- and there’s something about the situation that you just stare at Beverly in shook

-because for fuck’s sake you love Beverly

-she notices that there is something going on because she stops and stares at you and asks you what is going on without saying a single word

- you just take a deep breath and go for it

-you are kissing her. Her lips are soft under yours and your hand’s grabs her cheek as you feel her responding your kiss and her hands are tracing patrons in your lower thigh

-beverly moves away for a second and smiles at you

-“I’ve been waiting for you to do that, jackass.” She said and you chuckle

-because if she isn’t the softest and more precious person on the world

-and that day you started dating

- you weren’t afraid of openly saying that you would do anything for your girlfriend

-she literally makes you melt????????

-one look in your direction and you are already fucking dead

-as dead as miss keicha

-IM SORRY FOR THAT

- buuuuut, you guys are probably the cutest couple in whole derry

- and that’s how now it wasn’t only aunt bev, but it was also cool aunt YN who brings beverly in a motorcycle to all of her clases and says goodbye by always kissing her in the forehead before leaving.

[gillianfoster]

thanks for being the best idea beta jameothy

As much as they did love to all hang out together, there were times parts of the Losers Club had broken off on their own, and Eddie tended to find himself, at those times, hanging out with Richie. The two of them just ended up together when no one else could hang out. Just like Eddie had known that when Bev was there she and Bill had broken off and hung out on their own - only, well. Not quite like that. Maybe.

The point was that Richie’s parents, shitty as they were, didn’t really care if Eddie just sort of showed up and didn’t leave. He couldn’t be gone from home too long, but especially after that summer, the summer of ’89, he just needed a night out of the house sometimes and he would go to Richie’s. He and Richie had gone to the arcade sometimes (not that Eddie would ever touch an arcade machine without at least several wet wipes involved), or to the theater, so they’d hung out without everyone else. Going to Richie’s just made sense. Mostly.

Anyways, Bill’s parents were better and worse after everything had happened with Georgie, and Stan was always scared his dad would throw a fit, whether he would or not, but Eddie was always welcome at Richie’s, whenever. One time he’d woken up in the middle of the night and ridden his bike over at 3 in the morning and Richie had just still been up reading comics.

Sometimes they’d just sit around in the quiet, but eventually they started watching movies. Richie had a tv in his room, and he’d taken his family’s VCR and they hadn’t noticed, so he and Eddie both would buy tapes or rent them and watch them whenever they hung out. At first Eddie had always let Richie pick, stupid comedies or his other favorites like Ghostbusters, but eventually Eddie started making suggestions, too, and Richie let him.

Eddie was the reason Richie had seen The Breakfast Club and Pretty in Pink more than once - and he was the reason they’d ever watched Sixteen Candles.

He wasn’t sure if anyone else in the group had watched it or not, so when Richie showed up at school on his sixteenth birthday and said, “They fucking forgot my birthday,” Eddie thought it might be a joke just for him, but he couldn’t be certain.

“Are your grandparents coming by later with Long Duk Dong, too?”

Richie cracked a smile at that, and Eddie smiled back - only then Richie got that look in his eye that Eddie always came to regret. “Hardly need my grandparents to come by for Long Dong to be in the house, do I?”

Stan groaned, and Bill sighed, while Ben smiled a little.

Eddie just said, “Jesus, Rich, don’t get started, I’m trying so hard to be nice to you on your birthday.” Then he frowned. “Were you being serious, though?”

“Me? Serious? No, of course not, just havin’ a good time, Eds.”

“God, don’t call me that.”

Richie slung an arm around Eddie as they all walked into school, and Ben started talking about something he’d been working on for history. Eddie shot Richie another questioning glance, because he could tell something was off, but he figured he could ask about it later.

Later didn’t come until lunch, but when it did, Eddie finally found he had a moment alone with Richie.

“Rich... Were you just referencing the movie when you came in this morning?”

“Uh, when I what?”

Eddie sighed and nudged Richie’s arm. “When you came in this morning, you said they forgot your birthday. Was there really a they?”

He watched Richie grimace, and he knew immediately he was right. Eddie almost regretted bringing it up, suddenly. “Oh. Yeah. Just... my parents. I’m actually living fucking Sixteen Candles, except without the excuse of my sister’s wedding, but. It’s no big deal.”

“Your sister didn’t tell you we’re getting married tomorrow?”

It was lame, taking a page out of Richie’s book and just cracking a joke, but it got Richie to smile, and that was all that mattered to Eddie.

“Yeah, don’t worry, Eds, your mom and I will be right there in the front row.”

“Alright, chill out with the mom jokes and nicknames, I can only ignore so much for the sake of birthday kindness. But... Look, we’ll do stuff with all the losers tonight, who cares about your parents?”

“Yeah... yeah. You’re right.” Richie looked distant for a second, then shook himself. “You think Jake Ryan’ll show up?”

Eddie flushed a little and laughed, but he knew it sounded awkward, or possibly slightly hysterical. Richie seemed to have less and less issue making jokes like that. While he’d always made weird flirtatious and sexual jokes about girls -  since he was like 12 - Richie had recently decided that he was free to include flirty jokes about guys in his repertoire, too. Eddie found that he almost had a heart attack every time it happened. If he were younger, his reaction might have even made him reach for his inhaler, but ever since he’d thrown away all his meds when Greta Keene told them they were bullshit, he didn’t use any of them anymore.

The thing was, Eddie knew why he reacted that way - he just didn’t really want to think about it. He’d gotten pretty good at putting it off.

Fortunately, they got their food and got seated with everyone before Eddie had managed to stop laughing, so he didn’t have to say anything.

Jake Ryan jokes aside, Eddie still spent the rest of lunch distracted. He had already been planning some things for Richie’s birthday - but now he felt the need to make sure it was perfect. He’d need to talk to Bill at some point to really plan anything, and he’d have to run some other errands, too, to put some extra touches on the rest of plans. Still. If it could cheer Richie up, make him forget his shitty parents and really grin again, it would all be worth it.

To do everything he needed to do, really, he’d have to skip out on class for most of the rest of the day. He never did that without Richie or the other losers egging him on.

There was a first time for everything after all.

The first thing he did after lunch was to catch up with Bill before he got into class.

“Bill, wait. I had some ideas for Richie’s birthday tonight, but I need your help. Can you help?”

“Well, sh-sure. B-but what is it?”

“Right. I know we were all going to the quarry, but I think there’s other stuff we could do instead. Ask Ben to get a projector if he can - he might be able to borrow one from the library. I’ll get most of the other things - I need you to go to the barrens after school, take everyone else, too. Make it look nice, find a concrete wall or something. Bring blankets, too, for all of us to sit on. I’ll leave all the stuff there, I’ll take Richie so you have some time to get everything set up. And I might get you some extra help, too.”

“E-extra help?”

“Can you do it?”

“Yeah, E-Eddie, o-of course. I-is there anything else?”

“No, just. Try and make things look nice, put the film on the projector. Everything will be waiting for you at the barrens. Just go to class, I’ll see you later.”

“Y-you’re not c-coming?”

“Too much to do! Sorry, bye!”

The next was to sneak off to the school payphone. It was absolutely disgusting, but Eddie was determined, and he knew if his mom caught him at home and using the phone instead of at school, he’d end up dead. He took some paper towels from the bathroom and wiped the phone off before he used it to call Bev’s number in Portland.

He didn’t think she’d be home, but apparently she’d been skipping school, too.

“Bev?”

“Eddie?”

“Oh, good, thank god. Okay, so. Hi! How are you?”

“Eddie, are you calling me at school?”

“I. Yes. Yes, that’s possible. You don’t wanna tell me how you are?”

“I’m fine, Eddie. Is everything okay?”

“Oh! Oh, yeah, I mean. Nothing’s really wrong or anything, just. It’s Richie’s birthday today.”

“Oh yeah! Tell him happy birthday from me!”

“Well actually... Bev, you can drive, right?”

“...Eddie are you really asking me to drive back to Derry for Richie Tozier’s birthday?”

“Bev, look. I know it’s-“

Bev cut him off immediately. “Of course I will.”

“...Really?”

“Eddie, Richie’s one of my best friends. And I mean, honestly, I’d thought about it anyways, but I’m assuming there’s a reason you wanted me to, isn’t there?”

Eddie sighed. “His parents forgot his fucking birthday, Beverly. My mom’s never been party planner of the year-”

“Yeah, neither was my dad, but. Yeah. I get it. I’ll drive up. It’ll take a few hours - when are you guys getting together?”

“Well, I had this idea... Just go to the barrens when you get here, Bill and everyone will probably still be setting up. They can explain everything. I’ll see you when Richie and I get there.”

“Oh, Richie and I, huh?”

Eddie blushed. Bev had always seemed to know more about himself than he did, in particular ways. “Bev, oh my god, not now.”

She laughed through the phone, and Eddie smiled in spite of himself, glad to hear her again - as always, he hadn’t even realized how much he missed her.

“See you, Eddie.”

“Wait, one more thing! Bring your stereo, can you?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll bring that, too. See you.”

“See you.”

He hung up the phone and then wiped off his hands and the phone again. By this point, he’d found that the only way to get through anything like that was to distract himself as quickly as possible. He could swim in the quarry and not think about it because he was with his friends, and that was more important - in this case, Richie was more important. He’d be happy to see Bev - they’d gotten close before she left, always smoking cigarettes together and talking. Eddie didn’t think Richie felt the way about Bev that Bill and Ben did, but he knew they were good friends, and that Richie would appreciate her being there.

With that all settled, Eddie got his things and managed to sneak his way out of the school - not that any of the adults in the school particularly cared. Not in Derry.

His errands began with sneaking into his own room at home to get his money, and a blanket. He’d been right that his mom would be home, so he had also been right to use the phone at school - he never could have gotten to the phone in the house.

With his savings all gathered up, he proceeded on the rest of his afternoon errands. He picked up Richie’s cake from the bakery - all the losers had pitched in on ordering it. He got some more food from the store, some battery powered lights to hang up in the trees, and some string and tape to help hang them up. He went to the music store and got some of Richie’s favorite music - Eddie had made Richie a mixtape for his birthday, because they always exchanged mixtapes for holidays, but he didn’t want to play that mixtape in front of everyone. The very thought of that made him a little flushed.

The last step was the most important - he had to go to the Capitol and see if he could get a copy of a movie. He knew the Capitol kept some of their reels, and they would show older movies, so if he could figure out who was the best one to ask, it was possible he could get a reel for his big plan.

The only person he knew to ask, really, was Foxy - which was what they all called the theater manager. Not to his face, but it was mostly an affectionate nickname.

Eddie snuck around the theater and found Foxy smoking in the alleyway, taking a break - timing was apparently on his side.

“Mr. Foxworth?”

The old man squinted at Eddie, and then snubbed his cigarette out on the wall beside him. “Kaspbrak. You here with that Tozier kid?”

“No. No, Richie isn’t with me. Neither is anyone else. I wanted to ask a favor.”

Foxy narrowed his eyes even further, which hadn’t seemed possible, and then hummed. “Alright. What is it?”

“Do you still have Ghostbusters on reel? And if so would it. Be possible for me to borrow it? Just for tonight.”

“We’re not the damn video rental. Get lost.”

“What if. What if I pay for it?”

The old man blinked at him. “How much?”

Eddie had about fifty dollars in savings that he’d decided he could spare. He offered Foxy thirty of it.

He glanced at the money, then back up at Eddie. “Fine. Give me the money, you can do whatever the hell you want with it.”

Eddie handed over the thirty dollars, and Foxy went back into the theater. Eddie hovered awkwardly in the alleyway, hoping that was what he was expected to do, and he was pleasantly surprised when Foxy actually came back out with the reel tucked under his arm. He passed it over to Eddie, and the title on the front told Eddie that he hopefully had the right one.

“Bring it back if you want - I don’t think anybody’ll miss it, though.”

Recognizing his luck, Eddie ran off with the reel before Foxy could change his mind. Difficult as it was, Eddie held the reel and all his other materials wrapped in a blanket on his lap as he rode his bike to the barrens. He did it without falling, and left everything somewhere he thought Bill could find it. He left a note, too, with some instructions for the film reel, and the lights, the food and the music.

After all that was done, he rode back to school on his bike, and made it just before classes let out. He waited by the bike rack and was glad to see that Bill was the first one out.

“Bill, thank god. Okay. Everything’s waiting at the barrens, by the creek, I think you can find it. Bev’s going to meet you there.”

“B-bev’s coming?”

“Yes, look. Get everyone together, head down there - I’m gonna take Richie to the arcade, but go ahead and find them, tell Richie you have a project to work on or something and you’ll meet him down there.”

Bill just nodded, and ducked back into the school. After a few minutes, Richie came out.

“Eddie my boy, where’s everybody else?”

Richie hadn’t even seen them. Eddie smiled. “Bill, Stan, and Ben had something they had to work on - something about that history project Ben was talking about. They’re gonna meet us at the quarry later, but I thought we could go to the arcade first.”

“The arcade? On my birthday? Does that mean you’ll actually play with me?”

“We’ll see.” Eddie got on his bike, and Richie followed suit, and they smiled at each other as they rode off to the Capitol.