#2019-09

[merpmonde]

Freiburg's Schwabentor

The Germany city of Freiburg im Breisgau, on the transition between the Rhine valley plains and the hills of the Black Forest, was part of the Duchy of Swabia until it dissolved in the 13th century due to the ducal line going extinct. It was around this time that its "Swabian Gate" was built at the Eastern edge of the town, facing the Swabian heartland.

Like Schaffhausen's Schwabentor, it has undergone upgrades and downgrades, taken damage and been restored over time. The current illustrations on the tower include St George slaying the dragon (1903) on the outside, and a merchant with a cart (first painted in 1572) on the inside, just visible in the picture below.

Freiburg's Altstadt has many gorgeous, colourful houses decorated with trompe-l'oeil facades. An effort has also been made to preserve the little rivers in the streets, known as Bächle. Local superstition says that anyone who accidentally steps in a Bächle will marry a local - unusual to see a place that values clumsiness!

[myloveonherknees]

@/hisethelcain. “god's dead and @/internetgf666 killed her” twitter, 7 sept 2019.

[sugdensdingle]

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Regret & Rememberance || Grieving!Ghost

Rating: M + DDNE Words: 2.9K~ Pairing: Gravekeeper!Reader x Grieving!Ghost CW: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT., death, child death, mourning/grief, canon 09 ghost backstory, dissociation, cemetery/graveyard, graves/headstones. Tags: you/your pronouns, gn!reader, angst, flower language/symbolism, hurt/comfort, platonic relationship. Summary: A hobby of yours causes you to cross paths with an undead man. a/n: for those who care about flower meanings, like me... ;)

You started volunteering at one of the local cemeteries after putting in a request with the town hall.

It was a simple thing, really. You were just providing extra help to the ground's keepers who did little else but mow the grass, trim the trees and bushes, and blast away leaves and dirt from the headstones and pathways with a hose.

You bought your own supplies with the help of a small voucher the town hall provided you, and then you went and cleaned the headstones at the cemetery.

You quite liked doing it. You always liked cleaning and polishing things until they were squeaky clean. And so, you'd carefully remove moss and overgrowth, and wash the engraved lettering in the old graves, and, sometimes, out of your own dime, you'd use a small paint brush and a little jar of enamel paint to fill in the lettering and make it readable again.

It was a passion project for you; you enjoyed seeing the graves come back to their original (or as close as you could get it) state, and even read up on funeral/cemetery/work/life records at the town hall to find out who was who.

It was peaceful, almost therapeutic. You tended to pick the times when you knew the cemetery would be mostly empty and you'd go row-by-row, eyeing the older graves and seeking out the ones that need caring.

It was during one of those times that you saw him for the first time.

As you meandered about, carrying a small caddie of cleaning supplies in one hand, and pulling the hood of your waterproof parka over your head with the other, you notice him.

It was a very lazy Saturday afternoon. Wintertime, Christmas had been just three days before. The sun was hidden behind dark clouds, giving the cemetery and even darker and gloomier atmosphere, the rain showering down over the entire city of Manchester.

He was tall, so, so tall, and with shoulders so wide and arms so thick, even below the hoodie he's wearing... And yet he looked so small, as he looked on at the graves at his feet...

You knew those graves, you'd memorized the majority. It was the Riley family. A really big tragedy, a recent one, just the year before, on Christmas Eve. The news had said the house burned down because of a faulty heater, and killed everyone, including a little boy.

You settled at a grave not far from him and regarded the man with knitted brows, trying to sneak a glance under his hoodie, maybe catch his eye, and offer him a smile and some courage... But underneath, he might was well have been a void.

The dark clouds and atmosphere only made it that his face was nearly completely shrouded in darkness, and the dark scarf wrapped around his neck and hiked up to cover his nose and mouth certainly didn't help.

You knelt by the grave you were going to clean and began removing the cleaning supplies from your caddie, grabbing a small bench scraper so you could remove the moss growing on the front face of the grave.

But before you began, you couldn't help but sneak a glance at the man again. He must have felt watched, however, because he turned his head toward you and from underneath his hood, all you saw were a few short blonde hairs peeking out.

You tried to do exactly what you intended, offering him a small smile and a nod... And then turned away to properly working, trying to give him space, or respect... You tried. Really. But... something about him... In less than a minute, you looked over again.

And he was gone without a trace. Looking around, you saw no tall, dark figures speed-walking away.

For some reason, a chill went down your spine when you noticed you were alone again... Almost like he had been a ghost, a figure of your imagination...

-

You saw him a lot more times after that. Or, at least, you were pretty sure it was a Him. Or, at least, you were pretty sure it was a Him.

You'd arrive and he'd already be there, almost like he timed it perfectly every time.

Never a word exchanged, though you looked at him from a distance and, sometimes, he looked at you too.

He'd always leave a small flower arrangement between the center two graves. Purple hyacinths, white chrysanthemums, and black dahlias.

And then he'd leave not long after you arrived.

Sometimes you wondered if you being there made him leave... If he wanted to avoid being there when you were, to avoid being stared at. But you couldn't help yourself from staring.

Truth be told, you'd go long weeks without seeing him, but he'd always come back...

And when he did come back, he'd come pay the graves a visit multiple times a week for a few weeks...

Whenever he wasn't there, you dared to venture toward the grave and gaze upon, especially right after he had left... And you'd pay you respects to the family buried there...

-

Sitting in the public library attached to the town hall, you carefully combed through the cemetery records of the last year, with a hot tea beside you.

Riley. There it is.

Obituary notices for five members of the same family, on the same date.

Joanna Riley, née Pearson, aged 57. Thomas Riley, aged 33. Beth Riley, aged 32. Joseph Riley, aged 4. and Simon Riley, aged 37.

Two mothers, and their three sons. An innocent child in the middle of it all. All killed by an accidental fire, with a starting point on a faulty heater, right before an important holiday.

Their obituaries said that Joanna had worked in a textile factory for most of her life, Thomas was a cook at a restaurant, Beth was an esthetician and Simon was a... soldier.

You looked at the pictures attached to the obituary, of each of them... So alive, so... free. Pictures taken from Facebook profiles or school records, in Joseph's case... All of them with big happy smiles...

Joanna had big eye bags, but she had wrinkles in the corners of her blue eyes, and deep smile lines, like she'd spent a lifetime laughing... Her hair was already fully grey, cut into a bob with a fringe.

Thomas was thin, and had prominent cheekbones and a dip in the cheeks themselves, as well as deep eyebags with bulging eyes, but a surprisingly pleasant smile on his face. He was a blonde.

Beth's picture showed that her nose tended to scrunch whenever she smiled, her dirty blonde, nearly brown hair, was hair tied back into a bun and a fringe falling over her blue eyes.

Little Joseph had a toothy grin and was wearing a school uniform, his blonde hair swept to the side by a comb and his blue eyes sparkling... You found your lip trembling at the thought that, perhaps, that was his first day of kindergarten picture...

And, lord, Simon Riley... He was halfway through winking when the picture was taken. He had the warmest brown eyes and the smuggest little smirk on his lips as he held Joseph in his arms, whose face had been partially cropped out of the picture, but clearly was mirroring his uncle, while holding a little teddy bear with a blue bow around its neck.

It made you sad, to see those pictures. Sadder than when you researched all the other graves' you've cleaned. Many of them included children too... But something... something about those kind faces...

-

You couldn't help but wonder who he was.

Maybe a family friend?

A distant cousin?

Maybe someone from Beth's side of the family, since she's a blonde and the stranger is too?

You hadn't dared approach him, striking a conversation but you were so full of questions.

Was it wrong to be so curious about a stranger who's only at the funeral to mourn and pay respects? (Definitely.)

You wanted to ask him everything.

Who is he?

Why does he come visit at the worst times and days, when it's rainy and dark, and empty?

Why does he disappear so often for weeks at a time?

Why does he keep coming back?

Someone had to pay for the funeral arrangements, after all... Maybe it was him. Maybe he's family.

Why else would he casually drop £200 worth of arrangements on the graves every time he comes?

...

Truth be told, you hadn't seen him in nearly two months. It was the longest it'd gone since coming to visit.

Around Christmas of the following year, and he hadn't come to see the graves... and you knew that for certain. Not only did you not cross paths with him, but there were no flowers at the graves.

Could it perhaps be that he's trying to move on?

Or maybe something happened to him?

You hated to think of the possibility that the stranger could've given up, moved away, or died himself.

Worse, it made your heart ache...

So you made a choice. One of those times before you went in to clean another grave, you stopped by the florist around the corner.

Dropping nearly as much money as he usually did in a gigantic arrangement, a couple of candles, you wobbled into the cemetery again.

-

Simon Ghost sat on his bed in the shitty flat he was renting from a nice old lady who didn't ask too many questions.

It was barely a flat, more so a cramped tin of sardines that the council allowed to be called a 'studio' because it had enough space to fit a bed, a counter, fridge and stove, and had an attached bathroom.

He had just gotten clearance from the military hospital to be able to walk around without his crutches and just his cast boot, and good thing too.

Christmas had been days ago and he hadn't gone to visit the graves just yet... he could feel the need to see them scratching in the back of his head, trying to get out, digging into his bowns..

After succeeding in tying the laces on his regular boot, he pushed himself up to his feet, a bit shaky and unsure as he attempted to shift his weight around.

But, after succeeding, he wobbled over to his small wardrobe, grabbing his usual hoodie and scarf combo, pulling them on.

He pondered about opening a window to air out the flat, the scent of hair bleach and chemicals still lingering in the air... But he decided against it.

He left the flat and locked the door, then carefully limped his way to the bus stop beside his block of flats.

...

It was already getting dark when he made it to the cemetery and past the gate, carefully limping his way to the graves.

He looked around the graveyard with narrowed eyes, seeking you out. He wondered if you were around, if you were also looking for him, or if you didn't even notice he had been gone.

Had he still been Simon, he would've already gone up to you, struck up a conversation... and he would now too, joke about how he'd been 'slacking off', mutter some nonsense of 'working hard/hardly working'...

And yet he wasn't Simon.

'Simon' was buried in the grave he was going to now visit and, unlike the rest of the Riley family, he was getting no pity.

Not like mum, Beth, Tommy and Joseph... And yet no one but Ghost was ever there to pity them, to mourn them. And once he was gone, no one would even remember them.

They deserved better than what they got. They didn't what happened to them. They didn't deserve a death that gruesome...

And t was thanks to Simon that they were dead in the first place. He didn't deserve any pity.

Ghost would not mourn Simon. Ever.

...

And yet, as he approached the graves, the large arrangement he always brought with him, tucked under his arm, Ghost stopped in his tracks.

A beautiful light arrangement sat in the same exact spot he usually placed his own... right between Tommy's and mum's headstones. It was light and feminine and... cute. A stark difference to his own, dark and moody.

He crouched in front of the graves, setting aside his own arrangement and, very carefully so, running a trembling hand over the petals of the flowers. Fresh, not just from the recent rain, but from being a recent addition. Maybe only a day or two old.

A mix of pink and white carnations, an overwhelming amount of baby's breath, and some kind of herb stems wrapped around them.

Carefully, Ghost plucked one of the stems of the herb and brought it up to his nose to smell it. The scent of chemicals from his hair bleach didn't make identifying the scent any easier, but, after a moment, he realized it was rosemary.

Rising to his feet and looking around once more, Ghost sought you out again, trying to find the sight of you hunched over, scrubbing away at one headstone or another. No sign of you.

Looking down at the graves again, his eyes got drawn to something out of the corner of his eye. A small statue that had not been bought by him, leaning against Beth and Joseph's shared grave.

A brown ceramic teddy bear... with a baby blue ribbon around his neck.

Just like the one he'd bought in a Poundland when coming back from deployment, in a hurry, after Tommy had called him to let him know Beth had gone into labour... not wanting to show up empty-handed at the hospital.

It had become Joseph's favourite toy, he'd sleep holding it, would drag it along behind him as he learned to walk, and would take it to kindergarten every day.

"Fuck..." Ghost hissed as he fell to his knees in front of the graves, his fingers digging into the wet grass and his eyes closing as his whole form was racked by sobs.

-

You didn't know how long he'd been there. But he was soaking wet, dripping all over, on his hands and knees, hiccuping and crying at the foot of the graves.

You noted the way his leg was in a cast inside a black boot, which helped ease your worries that he hadn't given up on coming, he'd just been unable to for a while.

Swallowing your fear, you bounded up to him, holding your umbrella protectively over the two of you as you stopped by his side.

He looked the smallest you'd ever seen him...

Taking a deep breath, you slowly crouched beside him and placed a hand on his broad shoulder, feeling him shudder, his breath hitching, audible even through the wind and the aggressive pitter-patter of the rain on your umbrella.

"Breathe... It's okay..." You murmured as you looked at him. "Breathe."

The man took a deep, ragged breath, shuddering with each one, his arms, impossibly strong, trembling and struggling to hold him above the grass which was now essentially more mud than grass.

"I'm sorry if I overstepped." You murmured and tilted your head so you could peek below his hoodie, to check on him.

Bad choice on your part, because only then did you notice that his scarf had been loosened by him, to allow him to breathe, revealing his face.

He was deformed, badly so. His cheeks were hollow and cut through by a jagged Glasgow smile, and his skin so red and blemished, you'd think he had been burned alive at one point in his life.

Those were no ordinary scars... from a small injury, or an accident... They were too precise, not random... Those were... inflicted on him.

He didn't reply, nor did he try to cover his face or turn away, he just shuddered more, hiccuping and sniffling amidst his tears.

"I hadn't seen you in a while..." You told him gently. "I was... worried that you'd never come back." You admitted. "So... I figured I should look after them for you."

He gulped, audibly so, deep in his throat. For a while he didn't speak though his lips pushed and pulled like he was chewing on his cheek, looking for how to answer.

"Thank you." He murmured, his voice gruff and raspy, the words sounding like they had been eating away at him, gnawing at his bones.

"Do you... want me to toss it all out?" You asked slowly, watching as he thrashed his head side to side and sniffled again, hissing through clenched teeth.

"N-No..." He replied and took a hulking breath, like it was the most difficult thing he'd ever done.

"Okay..." You added and nodded solemnly. "Want me to help you up... because of your foot?" You offered.

"No... I've got it." He added with a nod and swallowed the lump in his throat as he closed his hands into fists to keep himself from lying on the dirt.

You paused and looked between him and the graves. "I'll leave you be, then..." You replied and turned to collect your cleaning supply caddie from the path beside you...

Only for one of his hands to suddenly catch your bicep and stop you, which caused you to freeze. "Stay..." He pleaded as you slowly turned to face him again.

His face was turned toward you as well. His eyes were red and swollen from crying, his nose had a deviated septum, and his whole face was riddled with scars and blemishes...

And yet those brown eyebrows of his... and those brown eyes... the way they stared at you... Sorrowful, afraid, hurt but... warm... You remembered seeing them, in that fucking obituary notice months ago...

Sure he was a blonde and very deformed but... this was Simon Riley.

You were looking a dead man right in the eyes.

[your-local-chaotic-cryptid]

Kindergarten 1 and 2 did everything Class of 09 wanted to do, and did it better

[aliceosemansolos]

I JS REALIZED ION HAVE A INTRO POST SO IMMA MAKE ONE.

MY NAME IS FRIDAYY!! IDC ABT PRONOUNS TBH. PERO LIKE THEY/THEM IF U CARE. IM A MINOR SO IF UR 18+ DONT BE WEIRD. IM WRITING A PODCAST CALLED GHOST TOWN, COMING OUT AT SOME POINT!! ON YOUTUBE!!

FAV SHOWS: SCOTT PILGRIM TAKES OFF, HEARTSTOPPER, OHSHC (OURAN HIGH SCHOOL HOST CLUB), SOUTH PARK, NANA, I AM NOT OKAY WITH THIS, BROOKLYN NINE NINE, SHOUJO ANIMES, DOCTOR WHO, BOJACK HORSEMAN, YOUNG ROYALS

FAV MOVIES: HEATHERS, BUT IM A CHEERLEADER, IT (BOTH OF THEM), FEAR STREET (THE 2ND MOVIE TO BE EXACT PERO I LOVE THEM ALL), BRING IT ON ( ALL OF THEM OBVI), SCOTT PILGRIM VS THE UNIVERSE, JUNO, UP THE ACADEMY, TEACHERS, SPEAK, KARATE KID, GOOD WILL HUNTING, THE OUTSIDERS, I SAW THE TV GLOW, DEAD POETS SOCIETY

FAV BOOKS: SOLITAIRE, THE OUTSIDERS, HOW IT FEELS TO FLOAT, GIRL IN PIECES, SUICIDE NOTES, THE HEARTSTOPPER BOOKS, RADIO SILENCE, IT, THE CATCHER IN THE RYE, IF HE HAD BEEN WITH ME, IF ONLY I HAD TOLD HER, HATE LIST, YOUD BE HOME NOW, SPEAK, ACT COOL, A BREATH TOO LATE

RANDOM THINGS I LIKE: VINYLS, MUSIC, CDS, BAGGY CLOTHES, ALICE OSEMAN, DUMPLINGS, FASHION, ART, COLLAGES, MUSICALS, SWEET FOODS, BAKING, THE COLOR PURPLE ND RED, BLACK NAILS, POLISH MOVIES, MOVIE THEATRES, 80S AND 90S FILMS

FAV CHARATERS: TORI SPRING, ALED LAST, MICHAEL HOLDEN, KIM PINES, KNIVES CHAU, RICHIE (IT), BIZ (HOW IT FEELS TO FLOAT), HOLDEN CAULFIELD, TARA JONES, RAYNE SEPGUTA (IDK HOW TO SPELL HER LAST NAME), WENDY (SOUTH PARK), KENNY MCORNICK, EMILY (CLASS OF 09), SAL FISHER, JOHNNY (THE OUTSIDERS), LARRY JOHNSON, HACHI, NANA, SHINICHI, JACK MURPHY, FINNY SMITH(IF I HE HAD BEEN WITH ME-IF ONLY I HAD TOLD HER), CHOOCH BAMBALAZI, DANIEL LARUSSO, EDDIE PALIKINIKN(IDK HOW TO SPELL HIS LAST NAME), TODD ANDERSON, NEIL PERRY, MAX CAULFIELD

FAV GAMES: CLASS OF 09(THE RE-UP IS MY FAV), UNPACKING, OUR LIFE GAMES, BAD END THEATRE, SALLY FACE, RANDOM ITCH.IO GAMES, RHYTHM DOCTOR, STARDEW VALLEY, LAST SEEN ONLINE, OMORI, LIFE IS STRANGE

FAV MUSIC: RADIOHEAD, MITSKI, TV GIRL, ALEX G, THE SMITHS, ANY MIDWEST EMO, MSI, KIMYA DAWSON, THE MOLDY PEACHES, THE CURE, THE BEATLES, SUBLIME, FOO FIGHTERS, MOST DEATH METAL BANDS, CHELSEA GRIN(THATS METAL PERO WHATEVA), KORN, NIRVANA, THE POLICE, BAUHAUS, SIOXIES AND THE BANSHES, ALL GARAGE PUNK

FANDOMS IM IN: CLASS OF 09, SALLYFACE, STARDEW VALLEY, OSEMANVERSE OBVI, OMORI, SCOTT PILGRIM, BLUE PERIOD, FRUIT BASKET, TOKYO REVENGERS, KIMI NO TODOKE, NANA, PRETTY MUCH ANYTHING WITH MICHAEL CERA INVOLVED, AND PROB MORE I JS FORGOT

FAV PODCASTS: WELCOME TO NIGHTVALE, HELLO FROM THE HALLOWOODS, AND UNIVERSE FRIDAY

GO FOLLOW MY INSTAGRAM: ALICEOSEMANSOLOS‼️‼️

[fredficaccount]

This is the day

14/09/2019

[just-a-queer-fanboy]

I need to redefine what is normal for me because my standards for weird are far too high and somehow they manage to be reached every day half my friends are on drugs (if you demonize addicts in my replies I will fucking get you) there's been like 3 shooting threats and a bomb threat at my old school this year alone and the worst of all my sister can't pronounce Mississippi

[syedahmedsabrina]

Me 中島サブリナ (Nakajima Sabrina) (Ahmed Sabrina) (21/06/2024) and 中島みゆき (Nakajima Miyuki) 25/06/2006 / 29/09/2007 / 24/10/2010 / 27/11/2019

Same Red Brown Hair Color

[merpmonde]

The best timepiece in the world (IMO): Strasbourg Cathedral's Astronomical Clock

I could go on about this thing for ages. There's so much history, so many symbols to spot, and so much information on display... This is going to be a long one.

I guess I'll start with the artistic aspect on which I have the least to say because it's the least up my alley. There's loads of mythology and Christian symbolism going on on this 18-metre tall monument, and these are the main draw for the general public, because they move around.

Like cuckoo clocks in neighbouring Schwarzwald, this astronomical clock has automatons. Every quarter hour, the lower level of the photo above sees a change of "age": a child, a young man, an adult and an old man take turns to be in the presence of Death, whose bells toll on the hour. At high noon, the upper level also moves, with the 12 disciples passing before Christ, and the rooster at the very top crows.

Moving on to what really makes me tick: the amount of information on this clock is incredible. The time, obviously, but actually two times are on display on the clock at the bottom of the picture above: solar time and official time. Given Strasbourg's position in the time zone, there is a 30-minute discrepancy between the two. Then there's all the astronomical stuff, like the phase of the Moon (just visible at the top), the position of the planets relative to the Sun (middle of the picture), a celestial globe at the base (pictures below, on the right)...

The main feature behind the celestial globe is another clock displaying solar time, with the position of the Sun and Moon (with phases) relative to the Earth, sunrise and sunset times, surrounded by a yearly calendar dial. These have remarkable features, such as the Moon hand that extends and retracts, making eclipses noticeable, and the calendar has a small dial that automatically turns to place the date of Easter at the start of each year. This sounds easy, but look up the definition of Easter and note that this clock is mechanical, no electronic calculating power involved! Either side of the base, the "Ecclesiastic Computer" and the "Solar and Lunar Equations" modules work the gears behind these features.

The accuracy of this clock and its ambition for durability are truly remarkable. Relative to modern atomic time, it would only need adjusting by 1 second every 160 years, and it correctly manages leap years (which is not as simple as "every 4 years"). It just needs winding up once a week.

Finally, the history. The monumental clock was built in the 16th century, and used the calendar dial above, now an exhibit in Strasbourg's city history museum. It slowly degraded until the mid-19th century, when Jean-Baptiste Schwilgué restored the base and upgraded the mechanisms. The "dartboard" on the old dial contained information like the date of Easter, whether it is a leap year, which day of the week the 1st January is... - all of which had to be calculated by hand before the dial was installed! - and was replaced by the Ecclesiastic Computer, which freed up the centre space for the big 24-hour clock, complete with Solar and Lunar Equations.

As you may have gathered, I am a massive fan of this clock. Of course, nowadays, all the imagery and information would easily fit into a smart watch, but a smart watch isn't 18 metres tall and powered by gravity and gears!

[myloveonherknees]

@/hisethelcain. “manson baby” twitter, 29 sept 2019.

[rainbenrry23]

just read 14/09/2019 by MediaWhore and time is not a healer

[itnewsletter]

Issue #6

Thursday, April 6th - missed in Issue #5:

Fanart

[x] reddie by @death2toby

Friday, April 7th:

Fanart

[x] reddie by @noodles-and-tea

[x] reddie by @horov

[x] reddy by @horov

[x] reddie by @dollarstoreartsupplies

[x] richie & pennywise by @snowls-yt

[x] reddie by SmshMouthTozier on Twitter

[x] reddie by emokissrr on Twitter

[x] reddie by @death2toby

Fanfic

[you’re more then just my bestfriend] benverly by cherriskye on AO3

[Nursing a Crush] reddie by @vodka-rocks-and-a-piece-of-toast

Merch

[x] pennywise bat stuffy by @strangelittlegarden

Recs

[x] reddie fic by @the-losers-are-still-losing

Saturday, April 8th:

Edits

[x] pennywise Barbie poster by @mashedraw

[x] reddie Barbie posters by @ur-friendly-neighbourhood-queer

Fanart

[x] the losers club by @alyxdrawsthings

[x] richie tozier by owobergine on Twitter

[x] richie tozier by Garfy_poor on Twitter

[x] reddie by FnofuS on Twitter

[x] reddie by emokissrr on Twitter

[x] richie tozier by HaderSweetie on Twitter

Fanfic

[everything you feel is good] reddie by deanlosechester on AO3

[Kick the bucket] reddie by @xavierlynn1998

[so what am i so afraid of?] reddie by getsalami on AO3

[Everywhere for you.] stenbrough by orphan_account on AO3

Memes

[x] the losers club "don't fuck this up" by @reddie-as-ill-ever-be

Roleplay Ads

[x] henpat 18+ by @kaijukomrade

Sunday, April 9th:

Fanart

[x] richie tozier by @protecttherealmcrystal

[x] pennywise by @jamie-tyndall-ffa

[x] reddie by @lordkalsiferdraws

[x] reddie by @thatonepannoah

[x] stanlon by @meenaisstuck

[x] reddie by @liz-freemen

[x] reddie by @noodles-and-tea

[x] richie tozier by @noodles-and-tea

[x] richie tozier by @p0etic-l0ser

[x] main four by @fruity-cleric

Fanfic

[Ghosts] reddie by @eddiesasspbrak

[Flowers for you 🌹] bichie by I_dont_know_what_am_making on AO3

[Love language] reddie by Tozierzz on AO3

[My inter-dimensional bride] pennyjuice by JackDenbrough on AO3

[When Will You Be Back?] stenbrough by The_Buggs_Brain on AO3

[When I'm with you] reddie by ThePeterForHerGwen on AO3

[I'm With You(Because I Love You)] reddie by iggy1256 on AO3

[Ethics 101] reddie by strangertwentypanic on AO3

Polls

[x] Who Would Believe In Santa And The Easter Bunny The Longest? by @antisociallilbrat

Monday, April 10th:

Edits

[x] pennywise wallpaper by Spillthecrazy on Twitter

Fanimatic

[x] reddie by @von-leg

Fanart

[x] the losers club by @sm0kingcrack

[x] eddie kaspbrak by @you-are-braver-than-you-think

[x] reddie by @lordkalsiferdraws

[x] twheelzier by @mrhalloween2ficpage

[x] reddie by viagox on Twitter

[x] richie tozier by snaalfoss on Twitter

[x] ben & stanley by @whatthefuckisasweep

[x] reddie by etsukopersonal on Twitter

[x] ben & richie by @noodles-and-tea

Fanfic

[If the World is Still Around Tomorrow] stenbrough by treluvd on AO3

[Unpredicted Soulmates] bichie by Blimmp on AO3

[put your ear on this coochie, hear this ocean sound] reddie by @gigglesnortbangdead

[Summer of Chaos] reddie by Mushroom_ace on AO3

[Friend With Brown Hair] reddie by pinkcash on AO3

[If You Were Here (And I Wish You Were)] reddie by BeepBeepSunny on AO3

Memes

[x] reddie by @neibolt-house

Merch

[x] pennywise mask by cosplaycrewco on Twitter

[zawescource]

09/05 |  Zawe Ashton attends Broadway opening night of "Betrayal" at THE POOL at the Seagram's Building in New York City. 

[poetajoereyes]

Escuché que andas con él y que todo es perfecto

Que siempre te trata bien, un tipo muy atento

Qué bueno, parece que lo eduqué muy bien

Dicen que te lleva flores a tu casa

Te textea buen día todas las mañanas

Qué bueno, me alegra que les vaya bien

Yo fui la que convirtió en un príncipe a esa bestia

Que bueno que to' mi tiempo si valió la pena

Tuve que aguantarme tanta mierda para que ahora tú estés con él

Que te presume

Sube fotitos a tus redes

Te tiene en las nubes

Qué suerte que tienes

Te presenta a sus amigos, cenas todos los domingos

Toda la mierda que antes no hacía conmigo

De pronto un caballero, para ti es un trofeo

Si lo hubieras visto como yo lo veo

No te lo recomiendo, aunque cambie su actitud

Las noches que pasé llorándolo

¿Quien me las devuelve?

Si él me las robó

Recuerda que no eres la única, que yo llegué primera

Tuve que volverme loca pa' que tú estés cuerda

Solo digo que lo tengas en cuenta

Por si me quieres agradecer

Y si es que te hace daño a ti también

Tírame un dm que yo te voy a entender muy bien

[decomposingpoet]

Shoutout to this faggot i love them!!!