#also it is weird to say home because its my parents house but i feel like i am legally obligated to refer to the netherlands as home

[russell-crowe]

there's something incredibly amusing to me about it taking multiple buses, a ferry, a plane, multiple trains and a car ride for me to get home

[yup-no-way]

Astro Observations pt. 3

Hi there! So here comes another astro observations post. But before I have to rant. Man…uni is kicking me in the butt (average engineering student). Like wdym I have a month till my finals and I have a research paper, 3 projects, 2 lab reports, 2 Tests and one lab exam due. And I have to start studying for my finals as well. ߹ ᯅ ߹

These observations are based on my personal experiences so don’t take it as full facts. These placements can also be influenced by other things in someone’s chart like degrees, houses and aspects. Also if u have any suggestions for what content you’d like to see feel free to let me know. English is not my first language lads so don’t drag me for grammatical errors. xoxo

Venus trine Ascended aspect: how does it feel to be life’s favourite . Like these people just have it like that. They are genuinely beautiful people and while that can manifest as conventional attractive, from my personal experience, their beauty is very unique , depending on other aspects in their chart. But whatever style of beauty they have, they embody it fully and they turn eyes wherever they go. Also these are the type of people who’s beauty is influenced by how they feel about themselves so if you practice self love and acceptance then that’s when you radiate the most.

Pluto 10h: huuuuge issues with authority figures. Mostly these people fall into 2 categories. First one, they always feel suppressed but push back therefore getting into arguments with those authority figures. Second one, they feel suppressed but don’t say anything, they prefer to lay low and not confront those issues. Overall for each case it’s a heavy placement and causes heavy friction in your life. These people also almost 100% have (or had) a lot of arguments with their parents. BUT, if you channel this energy by learning how to play the cards you’ve been dealt and manipulate situations without coming so upfront then this placement is so powerful, especially in regards to career. CEO energy. These people rlly would much rather work for themselves. I could go on hours talking ab Pluto, but I’ll leave it for another post because this planet is so interesting and people need to learn how to harness its energy better.

Lilith Gemini: worst nightmare for these people? Being perceived as dumb. They will rather be called ugly, weird etc. than being called stupid. And the best part? They aren’t stupid at all. Their most cunning aspect? Their intelligence. For some, they might’ve actually been perceived as slow when younger but worked hard just to not be associated with that imagine anymore.

4th house in Gemini: for a lot of these people, their home never felt that welcoming when young. This placement indicated a home/environment where growing intellectually/academically was very important (more important than their emotional state). Geminis 4th house experienced a lot of shame regarding their grades in their home/school or faced immense pressure to be “the first in class”. Also, this placement can be harder to navigate because due to the lack of support they might’ve felt in their environment. I wanna give you guys a big hug, seriously. You are more than your academics. Lots of love to yous xoxo

Venus trine Pluto: these people are magnetic. They are also mostly perceived way differently than they are (kinda sad tbh). So many people with this placement are hard to approach, even if they are genuinely nice people, at least once in their life, someone told them they look intimidating. This placement might not get hit on as much because of it. People tend to have fantasies regarding this collective, specifically in the house of your Pluto. For example if you have a Pluto in the 2nd house, they might fantasise about you taking them out for a shopping spree or them taking you out and spoiling you. If you have Pluto 10th house, then maybe they are very attracted to your work persona and might fantasise about some forbidden work love. You get the point. This placement is very intense but it can attract unhealthy relationships. You need to learn your toxic pattern and make sure you do not repeat it.

I hope you guys enjoyed this as well! I will be diversifying my content soon, I just had some more placements I wanted to talk about before I start smth new. Also I don’t have that many observations today since I have been focused on writing another Astro blog that is coming soon (I am so exited). Before my next astro observations post I’ll need to gather more info (aka psychoanalyse all my friends and the people around me)

Till next time xoxo

[littlcdarlin]

dbf!Joel headcanons

warnings: big, though unspecified age gap, 18+ (as always)

note: Uni has been kicking my ass, so I’ve only had time for some headcanons lately. This Joel is very sweet, but I’m open to writing sleazy or dark Joel, too! If you have requests for any headcanons, I will be able to write them even during this stressful time. Full fics will take me a while longer. Enjoy reading, my loves <3 and feel free to add stuff!

He doesn’t really know how to cook well and mostly eats his faves every day but when you stay over more and more he makes an effort to learn and actually finds out he really likes it

Whatever pressure your parents put on you, he relieves it by accepting it rather than trying to fix it for you — you can just exist around him without expectation

He worries the age difference means you don’t have much to talk about, so he watches your favourite show that you mentioned and although it certainly wouldn’t have been his first pick, it lets him unwind. He likes watching something he knows you’ve watched and loved when you’re not around, it makes him feel closer to you

When he first starts looking at you differently he blue balls himself so as not to disrespect you — when he has sex with someone to relieve himself, he accidentally says your name to them

He keeps a polaroid of you in his wallet and cashiers wonder why he smiles at his debit card so much

He finds it hard to stay friends with your dad, because it makes him feel weird about this dynamic with you. He distances himself from your parents after they react badly to the news of your relationship, not because of guilt or cowardice, but because he doesn’t tolerate how they treat you

He thought he would hate the gossip after the two of you go public, but when you do, he finds himself imagining knocking you up just so everyone knows what he does to you. He opts for lots of hickeys until kids might be a possibility, but that doesn’t stop him from pretending you don’t have an IUD when he finishes inside of you

He loves when you wear his clothes, but when you forget your scarf at his place he wears it and enjoys that just as much — it smells like you and he likes the idea of people being able to tell it’s somebody else’s

When he figures out how much you like him talking to you during sex, he starts using the same voice/phrases in public to get you flustered & wet for him

He keeps everything that reminds him of you, like parking tickets etc. He doesn’t do anything with those things, doesn’t put them in a box, so they linger around his house, reminding him of you the way photographs would, except more privately

He starts “putting in an effort” for you when you start dating: styling his hair & wearing clothes he thinks you would prefer, until you tell him you like nothing more than his flannels and band tees and jeans, and although he doesn’t tell you, he’s beyond relieved. He realises you like him for him

When you tell your parents, Joel asks your father to hit him because “he knows he deserves it”. With time he learns he also deserves your kisses and smiles. Those things coexist within him, he thinks both are true

Despite completely supporting you in your pursuit of a degree & career, he likes when you’re on holiday, waiting around for him in his house wearing nothing but a pair of panties he bought for you & one of his hoodies. During those lazy weeks, he fucks you morning, afternoon, and night: before he leaves, when he gets home, and right before you go to sleep

He buys you a ring during the first week of dating because you mentioned how much you like it. He doesn’t give it to you until he knows you feel certain about him — he doesn’t want to freak you out. Still, even before that, he sometimes looks at it in its little black box and envisions it on your finger

During your first couple of “public dates” (neighbourhood barbecue where your parents are present etc.) he refrains from touching you much, although everyone knows about your relationship. You have to take his hand and initiate small touches for him to feel more comfortable

It takes him a short while, but then he loves being able to touch you in front of people: a hand on your lower back, an arm across your shoulder, his fingers lacing through yours, him pulling your back against his front and wrapping his arms around you. People stare sometimes (your Dad breaks one or two wine glasses in his hand), but Joel stops caring when he sees how happy it makes you

He tells you that you can change things about his home, that it should feel like your place, too and asks if you want to go shopping for “candles and stuff”, but you love being in a space that feels completely like him. It’s not how your apartment looks, but it makes you feel at ease, like you’re somehow living inside of him

Before he tells you he loves you, he whispers it in your ear when you’re sleeping, hoping your subconscious will somehow pick up on it. When he does tell you while you’re awake for the first time, it’s during breakfast. You stub your toe, and let out a string of curses you must have picked up on from him, and while he presses ice against your foot, kneeling in front of you, he smiles up and tells you: I love you.

The first time you sleep over at his house after he spent the night in your apartment, two brand new bottles of the shampoo and conditioner you use are in his shower. You thank him and jokingly ask why he didn’t buy your shower gel, too. He kisses you and tells you he likes when you smell like him.

He likes making you come more times than you thought you could — something about moving in and out of you while you tell him you can’t do it again, that you’re done, and then watching you fall apart on his cock anyway, thrills him to the bone. It makes him feel powerful, but part of it is knowing you let him fuck you without expecting an orgasm, that him being inside of you is enough for you to feel good

He doesn’t tell you, but he adds your name to his car insurance, so that you can drive it whenever you want

When you figure it out you give him road head every time the two of you drive somewhere — until he almost crashes the car and he forbids you to tempt him while he’s behind the wheel

He’s so nervous he asks Tommy for help when picking out a birthday gift for you — Tommy goes overboard and the gift turns out to be something completely ridiculous like a pair of huge earrings you would never wear. You tell Joel you don’t need a big fuss to feel loved by him. At night, he gives you a present he’s been wanting to give you for a while: he plays you a song he wrote for you on his guitar. It’s quiet and simple and so perfect you cry for half an hour

He doesn’t sleep well when you’re not around, and loves being close to you at night. If he could, he’d sleep nestled inside of you after a round of lazy midnight sex every night

As much as Tommy annoys him, it makes him happy to see how well you two get along. When you become actual friends with Tommy and hang out with him on your own, he’s more than pleased: the two people he loves the most in the world have become close

He would never ask it of you, but when you tell him you have stopped masturbating because he fucks you so often, it pleases him deeply. He likes being the only source of your pleasure. When you are apart for a while because of work/collage etc., he buys you a toy he can control from his phone

He tells Tommy he thinks he’s going to marry you during the first month of dating, which you find out about only on your wedding day during Tommy’s speech

[ahotknife]

okay. well. welcome to my genderweird adam manifesto. standard disclaimers: i’m not god, i’m not the author, i’m not the boss of you. this is one way to interpret things found in the text. you don’t have to interpret it this way. you don’t have to agree with me. stay tuned for part 2 — Ronan Lynch: Electric Boogaloo 🐦‍⬛

this interpretation, for me, is built primarily upon a few key moments.

exhibit a:

exhibits b & c:

exhibits d - g:

other things of note:

in BLLB adam is frequently described by others as “not” a boy, but something more, different, other, separate, a secret third thing that’s never explicitly named

adam is the only male psychic

adam lives under his father’s thumb, in circumstances that are inherently emasculating. adam’s mother is a non-entity. the conflict in the house exists between adam & robert—the discord exists between adam & robert. robert must be more of a man than adam—he won’t accept anything else. it is necessary for robert’s ego that adam be subservient, small, scared. it’s a crucial part of a young man’s development that they have the space/opportunity to exercise/build their masculinity. robert will not allow that—this means that adam must fit into a specific role when he is at home.

it’s noted that when gansey is polite, he takes control by using his manners. in contrast, “when adam was polite, he was giving something away.”

adam himself regularly observes that he is Not Like Other Boys, but instead some Secret Third Thing

all of his jobs are physical and extremely demanding, in typically male-dominated fields

in many ways he performs his masculinity, nowhere near as aggressively as ronan or as easily as gansey, but in a way that’s somewhat defensive, somewhat clumsy

in the same vein, he attributes gansey’s masculinity to his wealth and believes if he’d personally come from privilege he would have all the answers. also, he observes ronan’s relationship with masculinity & magic & is jealous of the way he’s able to present himself as A Dude despite the magic and its inherent otherness. adam isn’t able to do that, yet, and it bothers him. he wanted the only weird things about him to be the magic and the poverty, but it’s so much more than that

he puts himself in situations where he ends up being the one with power/the one who “wears the pants”, because it’s gratifying and validating for him to feel like he’s The Man

robert observes at one point that there’s “something not right about that boy” and that adam has “grown up into someone he doesn’t like very much”

adam fights gansey about moving into monmouth because he doesn’t want to “belong” to gansey. he specifically says: “i’m his [robert] now, and then i’ll be yours.” ownership of his body and autonomy over his person are a huge part of adam’s character and his journey. there’s also probably something to be said here about daughters & the way they are by and large expected to go directly from their father’s house to their husband’s house. the marriage pipeline—he identifies himself here as a housewife or a daughter, not in words, but in stating what he believes would become his role in life should he allow robert/gansey to be his parent/patron/landlord/supervisor

he’s often paralleled/yoked to blue in the text, which is partially about class, but blue observes that he “doesn’t go to aglionby like Other Boys went to aglionby” and she returns his compliment by saying “i think you’re pretty too”

trb chapter 20 when Ronan Who Isn’t Ronan outperforms him at groceries is just as much about him envying power and presence and masculinity as it is him envying money and privilege. that boy is better at being a boy than him—why can’t adam be a boy like that?

to sum up: i think he’s a little weird. i think he’s kind of like that tweet that’s like “im probably nonbinary but i have a job so i can’t worry about that rn”. i don’t necessarily read him as nb, but you get my point.

the other thing i think it’s really important to remember when taking this lens to adam is that he’s part of the gay community, but he’s not Culturally Queer. he collects lgbt friends in college like funko pops—he doesn’t think he’s one of them, he doesn’t think they’re capable of knowing or understanding him. he’s not assimilating himself into the culture/community—he’s hiding behind it—he’s identified marginalized people who “needed” him (where did he find you crying?) and has made himself their knight in shining armor.

i’ve said this before when analyzing adam’s character and i’ll say it again: he is going to possess a creeping sense of alienation and otherness for the rest of his life, and he is going to do everything other than think about or address it properly. he is going to be weird and insecure and A Secret Third Thing forever. hooray!

[kiryoutann]

Before reading, please check series masterlist to read the warning(s), disclaimer, and to make sure you’re on the right chapter. Minors do NOT interact.

If you enjoy this, you can buy me a Ko-fi :) Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated!

TRIGGER WARNING: POSSIBLE SUICIDAL INTENT, gore metaphor, self harm (reader scratching herself as a coping mechanism), manipulation.

You remember that time.

You remember that time when Dad looked happy—a nearly foreign sight. For what felt like ages, he had been frowning, dark circles under his eyes, the visible crease on the side of his mouth ever since the constant fights between him and Mother.

But lately, he's been smiling; he's been humming the tune you thought he'd forgotten. You also remember plopping down next to him on the couch, cheeks puffed out, eager to know what had him in such a good mood. "Daddy, what are you smiling about?" you asked then, and yet-

And yet, the moment he heard that, something in his eyes abruptly dimmed, just like it always did whenever Mother walked into the room. You instantly regret speaking up, wishing you had just stayed silent and let him bask in his already rare moment of happiness.

“Curiosity killed the cat,” as Mom used to say. This time, your curiosity will kill Dad. So, you’re never curious again, never dared to ask again.

Dad has been coming home later and later, leaving barely any time for you to spend together. It’s like he’s always working, always busy. Gone are the days of sneaky trips to the ice cream shop or casual strolls through the park. Sometimes, you compare yourself to that old dog the Jenkins had—the one they stopped walking because they lost that love they had when he was still a cute little puppy.

It was as if the unhappiness that had held Dad back had somehow transferred over to Mother.

Lately, the fights between your parents had become increasingly frequent, leading you to shut yourself away in your bedroom and sing loudly just to drown out the noise. Mother would often sigh heavily, slamming the cupboards like she had some kind of grudge against them. The constant frowning had begun to etch deep wrinkles onto her face, and the dark circles under her eyes appeared to grow darker with each passing day. She was even losing her hair—the bathroom sink was a testament to that.

You started to notice strange behaviors from Mother as well. She would constantly check Dad’s phone whenever he was in the bathroom, rummaging through the trash for any stray pieces of paper or receipts, even asking you to check his clothes and bring them to her. Whenever Dad came home, she would confront him, demanding to know why he was home so late.

Everything feels weird. When you try to ask them, they will shut you down, telling you it is a “parents’ problem”—something a child like you shouldn’t know or have any business in.

But their “parents’ problem” quickly becomes yours when you always find yourself lying in bed, desperately trying to drown out another round of their arguing. You even start wishing you could spend more time at your friends' houses just to avoid being at home. Every night, you pray for it to stop.

For this to end. Until it does.

The “parents’ problem” that has been brewing for months finally rears its head when Dad stops coming home altogether. The silence you have grown accustomed to was quickly shattered by the sound of Mother’s hysterical crying, accompanied by the slamming of cabinets and the crashing of plates being thrown across the kitchen. You stop in your tracks, heart pounding as a silhouette emerges.

Mother. She walks toward you, her long hair plastered to her tear-streaked face, and-

And she smelled something like the alcohol Dad used to hide in the fridge. She grips your arms in a tight, almost bruising grip, leaning down to look you straight in the eye.

"I was right, sweetheart. Mommy was right," she whispered, her voice hoarse from all the shouting. "Mommy was right all along." She repeats the phrase over and over, as if you'd eventually grasp its meaning. After all, you were her daughter; you should understand.

But you didn’t. For goodness’ sake, you were just an eight-year-old girl—just enough brains to process why Dad didn’t come to your ballet recital despite his promise, just enough to try to understand why Mother was like this. What was she right about? Was Dad never coming home again? When is he coming back? So many questions, few to no answers. Not enough courage to let them swim to the surface because exactly what Mom said—“Curiosity killed the cat.”

Biting your lip, you ask in a small, fearful voice. “What are we talking about, Mommy?”

Mother took a shaky breath, her eyes so swollen and red from crying that you wondered if she might actually take her last breath right then and there. It makes you wonder if losing the supposed love of her life truly felt like a kind of living death.

“Your father…” she began, her voice barely above a whisper. “Your father, he’s… He’s not coming back, baby.”

Something about her own words brought anger to her face. Mother’s visage contorted into unbridled rage, teeth bared and nose scrunched up. You cry out in pain as she grips your arms tighter.

“He’s not coming back! Your father is with another woman—a WHORE! So don’t you DARE go looking for him, because he’s not coming back!”

At that moment, you didn't know which was scarier—Dad not coming back or Mother's anger. Or the thought that this meant you would be living alone with her. Even so, your lips began to tremble and you began to cry.

The anger that mother had was long-lived. Sometimes, it seemed like it outlasted the love she had once held for your father. Or perhaps, in a twisted way, that anger was just an extension of that love. The wound that mother carried was as deep as her affection had been. Love. Seeing its manifestation through your parents' relationship, it appeared like a despicable thing meant for people on a dark path.

Mother never truly recovered from it.

Day after day, week after week, month after month, even year after year, the anger never left her—it simply transformed into a hollow, empty place where the light once resided. Did Dad take it with him when he went off with that woman—that "whore," as Mother had said?

Still, you suppose it was better than those times when Mother would go out for drinks and come back late or even fail to come fetch you from ballet class. More often than not, it was a friend's mother who ended up dropping you home. Some questions they asked about your mother: "Is she okay?" and “Are you okay?”

That, you never know how to answer. Sure, you're doing fine at school and in your ballet classes—your toes are a little sore sometimes, but your teacher says that’s expected. And it’s not like Dad’s gone forever or dead. He’s still out there, even if he wasn’t coming home. Mom is still here, even if sometimes it feels like she doesn’t really see you.

… What an odd thing to feel, an even weirder thing to complain about. When Mother wasn’t at work, she was always there when you came home. She was easy to find in her room except on nights when she went out drinking and came back late, drowning herself in tears.

And yet, it felt like she wasn’t there at all. Dad left, and Mother was gone.

So, when that question was asked, you would just smile and say you were doing fine, that everything was okay. Yes, it was strange, unsettling, but everything was okay.

At least before you hit your teenage years.

Where did this change come from? Where did this hatred come from? Someone flipped a switch, turning your hollow mother into a bitter, resentful woman even to her own daughter. Slowly but surely, you begin to notice the glares she throws at you—the same ones she sports when talking about other women, as she said, “Look at the way she dresses, like some cheap harlot.”

“Change.” One day, she said, her voice sharp and commanding.

You furrowed your brows in confusion. “What? Change what?”

Mother's eyes narrowed, settling her gaze on your chest, then your stomach—you hold your breath from the burn of her glare. “I said, change. What, you don't see how you look?” She scoffed, shaking her head. “I don't know who gave you the confidence, but it's like you're asking for it.”

The sting of her words spread across your sternum, and you bite your inner cheek to keep yourself from crying. "But you said this looked good the other day."

“Then I said wrong, change.”

“But I like this top,” you protest, but you add a hollow chuckle for good measure, wanting to avoid coming off as defiant. “And it’s the only thing yellow in my closet.”

Mother’s lips thinned into a disapproving line. “You still have that yellow hoodie.”

“But it’s a birthday party! In the summer!”

“That’s too bad. Either you change, or you’re not going.”

Deciding the conversation is over, your mother walks past you. As you feared, she stops, sweeping her critical gaze over your face. The crease between her brows deepens; her lips curl into a sneer.

“And what’s with all that makeup? You’re trying too hard. Tone it down.”

You say nothing, fixating instead on the mild sting of your nails digging crescents into your palms. Don’t cry, don’t cry. Hasn’t this happened before? Why aren’t you used to this yet? The thing about you is that you cry over the same things over and over again, asking questions you already know you don't understand. “Why would Mom say that to me?” echoed in your mind, and yet, the answer remains elusive, so stop asking that!

You flinched as your mother suddenly swiped her fingers across your lips, smearing your carefully applied lipstick. Out of instinct, you quickly swatted her hand away.

“Mom, stop!”

“A lipstick on a pig is still a pig,” she spat, her hatred for you dripping—soaking into your skin and inciting your own blood to boil and burn you from the inside. “No matter how thick that makeup is, you’ll never be like those pretty girls. So stop trying.”

Your breath catches, your throat tightens. Mother finally walks past you, leaving you to “self-reflect,” expecting you to be on your right side of the brain after. To change your clothes, remove that makeup. “A lipstick on a pig is still a pig,” she says. Your lips quiver; the headache doubles.

Which one you loathe the most, you can't even say for sure. This tube top or the color. Your blush or your lipstick. You and your tendency to persist when you should stop—that you're ugly, a pig, and you'll never be those pretty girls.

You will never be those pretty girls.

You will never be...

Her.

Hayley. You couldn't help yourself from poring over the name on Facebook after hours of scouring for a hint of who she is and what's so special about her. And from what you can tell, she was everything you're not. With her big, bright blue eyes framed by dark, mascara-laden lashes, her light blonde hair, and that perfectly sun-kissed skin. Not to mention she has a figure that just fits right – a body a girl would die for. Hayley's life is balanced between her rising career and her enjoyment, as evidenced by several uploaded holiday photos in Southeast Asia, in places like Bali, Koh Rong, Phuket, Kuala Lumpur, Chiang Mai, and Singapore. She has a good relationship with her parents—both her biological ones and her stepparents. She has a golden retriever named Barney.

You knew enough to understand that she was the type of girl who frequented the clubs, not the quiet pubs where Simon and she met. The only reason she was even there was because of her dark-haired friend, who was now tipping her head back to finish another shot glass.

Are you stalking her? Yes, you suppose you are—there’s no point in denying it when you’re sitting at a bar, watching the social butterfly laugh with her equally beautiful friends. But you’re maintaining your distance, aren’t you? You’re not doing this because you’re a pervert (not that this justifies anything, you're aware)—you just need to know about her, to confirm something.

(Curiosity killed the cat.)

Hayley laughed again, her head thrown back, golden hair cascading down her back. The way her eyes crinkled at the corners, the way her glossy lips parted to reveal a perfect set of teeth. She and her group of friends looked like they were engaged in some kind of game, and as the loser, Hayley stood up and made her way to the bar. You looked up, pretending to sip at the drink you ordered earlier, appearing casual.

“Four Margaritas, love.” Hayley requested of the bartender, who responded with a nod to acknowledge her order over the din.

The man left his post to get something from the backroom. There wasn't much to do in the bar besides tapping her perfectly manicured nails on the shiny bar surface. Hayley swept a bored glance around: the strobe lights, the DJ booth and the drunk people dancing around it, the crowded booths at the ends of the room, and more drunk people.

Then, her eyes landed on you. Something ignited in those cerulean irises.

A confident smile played on her lips. “Hi there,” she said to you, voice sweet like honey. "Mind if I join you?"

For a moment, your brain stops thinking—completely caught off guard. Hayley doesn’t wait for your response, already sliding into the seat next to you. She widens her smile, the apples of her cheeks lifting fascinatingly. This was not how you envisioned this encounter going at all.

“I’m Hayley, by the way.” She gives you her name that you’ve known before she even knew you existed. You can’t help but wonder if she said the same thing to Simon that night, if he bore into her blue eyes like you do now.

You managed a small, nervous smile. In response, you provided your name, and Hayley tried it on her plump lips. Up close, she was even more stunning—her flawless skin, perfect makeup base, the way the low lighting cast shadows across her face. How was it possible that someone could be so effortlessly gorgeous? What's more, she didn't just seem kind; she also appeared humble and genuine—the type of beautiful girl who didn’t flaunt her good genes or think she was better than everyone else.

Still, despite all that, your dislike for her continues to grow. It’s almost unfair that she gives you nothing but kindness and you try to find her flaws, something that you hope will mar her perfection.

“Are you here all on your own?” Hayley asks again, to which you nod.

Despite already knowing she didn't come alone, you ask anyway, "You?"

“Me?” Hayley glance over her shoulder towards her table. “I’m here with a few friends. Say, love, why don’t you join us? It gets a bit boring sitting on your own, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, I’m… I’m kind of not used to such large groups,” you say, only to realize how lame it sounded. The poorly constructed excuse lays out the contradiction more clearly, like a lie written on a billboard. If you’re really the awkward, socially withdrawn weirdo you paint yourself to be, what are you even doing in one of the most crowded places in town?

Yet, Hayley didn't seem to judge you. The raised brow indicated that she thought it was strange, but her lips quirked up in a small smile, as if she found you… interesting.

“That's alright, darling. But you wouldn't mind a bit if I stayed here with you, would you?”

“Not at all.”

Hayley smiled, fishing her phone out of her purse. “Well, I was supposed to grab the next round for the girls, but I’ll just text them to grab the drinks. I reckon they can manage without me for a little while.” She opened her texting app, her manicured fingers making little tapping sounds as she typed.

Soon enough, a dark-haired woman approached the bar. Hayley greeted her friend, introducing her to you and you to her. The other woman smiled and nodded, but not wasting more time before saying goodbye to you and taking the drinks to their table. And just like that, you were alone with Hayley once again.

It makes you wonder why she even bothers to spend time with you—a complete stranger she just met. Is she always like this—always approaching and engaging with people she knows little about? Is that why she approached Simon the other day?

You grip your glass, soaking your fingers from the condensation around it. A temporary distraction from the memories that flash through your mind.

“Sooo, you seeing anyone at the moment?”

When that bold question came out of Hayley’s mouth, you came to a conclusion about her. It was clear that she was the type of woman who knew what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to go after it. The type to pop the question out before dealing with the answer—and whatever it is, she actually has the guts to deal with it. What other people think or feel about her does not define her, and that speaks volumes about the kind of person she is.

It also speaks to the kind of person you are.

Inevitably your thoughts drift to Simon. Shaking your head, you answer her question. “No, I’m not seeing anyone at the moment.”

Then, you take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. “And what about you? You’re not married, are you?”

Hayley laughs at that, wiggling her ringless fingers. “No ring on.”

“Not with anyone?”

An amused smile was etched on her face. “Don’t you worry, love. I’m a free bird, through and through.” She said as she leaned closer to you, the intoxicating blend of floral and citrus notes entering your olfactory. “Why? Got somethin' fun on your mind?”

At this close proximity, you could almost feel the warmth of her breath upon your cupid's bow. Up close, her physical details came into sharper focus—the freckles that peppered her nose, her deep-set eyes, a small mole sitting above the rosy pink of her lips, and the way her lip gloss glistened under the dim, hazy club lights.

And her lips. The ones that touched Simon’s.

The agony coursed through you, pumping in sync with each beat of your heart, spreading into the farthest reaches of your body. Poison in your blood. Thoughts raced in a frenzied, feral way that defied logic and reason. You wondered what it must have felt like for Simon. Had her kisses been soft and sweet, the kind that made him melt? Or were they passionate and hungry, with him nibbling and biting at her flesh?

Memories of that night are recalled to your mind, the image of their bodies pressed together coming with absolute clarity. The way he tilts his head to deepen the kiss, the way she hooks her legs around him.

Before you can register what you’re doing, you close the remaining space between you and Hayley, crashing your lips against hers in a kiss that’s almost daring. But it’s desperation that fuels you—your desperation to find any trace of him in her mouth, across her palate, beneath her tongue. You wonder if she can taste it, the bitterness of you. But when she kisses you back, more roughly and greedily, you find the answer.

Around you, the deafening music continues to play, the flashing lights like a kaleidoscope that twists and turns. Your olfactory senses register the strong smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke, and tears well up in the corners of your eyes. It reminds you of him—everything reminds you of him. Simon is everywhere but here. Even as you kiss another, it’s him you expect instead. You can’t help but wonder if it was the same for him that night—did he think of you as he sank deep inside of her?

When the kiss was broken, Hayley was about to smile at you before something faded it. A fat tear ran down your cheek. She furrowed her brows in concern.

“Hey, are you alright?” She asked, her accent growing thicker with worry. “Did I do something wrong? Go too far, perhaps?”

Hayley’s soft hands reached up, wiping away the salty liquid from your cheeks. You bit your bottom lip to hold back the sobs that threatened to escape. “N-no, it’s nothing,” you stuttered, voice barely above a whisper as you erased your own tears with the back of your hand.

Swallowing hard, your vision blurs again. “I’m sorry,” you mumble. “I need to... I need to go.”

Without another word, you turned and fled, ignoring Hayley calling your name. Pushing your way through the throngs of people, you made a beeline for the exit. The air in your lungs seemingly thinning, and your throat tightening. You switched to breathing through your mouth, as it was becoming increasingly difficult. A taxi approached, slowing down when you waved at it.

Two hours had passed since you fled the club, two hours spent waiting in suspense until, finally, the vehicle's headlights flickered to life, followed by the beeping sound indicating someone unlocked it. You remained silent, hearing the footsteps getting louder before you slowly rose to your feet, turning to face the person who had emerged.

“Simon.”

The owner of the name stood frozen in his tracks. The dim lighting of the streetlights only added to your difficulty in obscuring whatever expression he was sporting, but you didn't miss the way his shoulders tensed, his hands clenched tightly at his sides.

For a solid two minutes, his name was the only word spoken between the two of you. It wasn't like you were generous enough to offer him time to fully process the situation—no, it was more because you wanted to see how Simon Riley would react, how Simon Riley would deal with the unexpected.

You caught the way his mask slightly shifted—he clenched his jaw. “How?”

Instead of answering, you take a stuttering breath, feeling invisible needles piercing through your chest. “I forgot something in your car.” You tell him.

Simon's frown deepened, his head tilting slightly as he seemed to contemplate your words. It was absurd—after all these weeks, here you are, standing in front of his apartment, having somehow discovered the address, and claiming to have forgotten something in his car.

But he doesn't say anything, just continues to make his way to the car. You follow closely behind him. He opens the door to the passenger seat, then steps aside to let you check the car. You stretch your hand under the passenger seat, blindly feeling for anything, brushing through the dust and small gravel collected there until you finally touch something cold and metallic.

Pulling it out, the phone you had planted there weeks earlier came into view. You knew this meant Simon had laid his eyes on it too. It wouldn’t take long for him to connect the dots and figure out you had been tracking him this whole time.

Fucking hell. Simon remembered what he had said about modern phones. He closed the car door with a sharp click, then turned to you.

“So you’ve been followin’ me, then?”

“You didn't return my texts,” you stated bluntly.

"I asked you a question." He growls, almost like he's threatening you.

You observed the anger brewing in the depths of his dark eyes, radiating from him like a hot flame. Good, you thought silently. At least there was something that riled him up; otherwise, you would be suffering alone while he goes to fuck any willing bodies he can get his hands on.

"Why didn't you call me?" You ask again. “Why does it say your number is no longer in service? Why didn't you tell me?”

“Tell you what?” he snap, voice dripping with venom. “You think I owe you an explanation?”

Your blurry vision missed a flicker of change in his expression. When the tears escaped and the world came into focus again, all you saw was Simon locking his jaw, irritation radiating from him. He turned and began to walk away.

You followed him, quickening your pace to catch up. “Simon! Simon, wait!”

Despite your best efforts, he continues to keep his back turned to you, refusing to even spare you a glance. He fixed his gaze straight ahead, seemingly hell-bent on creating a vast gulf between you. You called out his name once more, your voice echoing in the stillness of the night, but he kept right on walking.

“Yes, I deserve an explanation! I don’t know why you’re being like this. We were fine the last time we were together. What happened? Why did you just disappear on me?”

You reached out, your fingers brushing against the sleeve of his jacket to get him to stop and face you. He came to a halt. A jolt of electricity surged through you as he encircled your fingers with his own, but it soon faded as he let go of your grip on the leather. Something inside you dropped away, leaving a shameful hollow space inside.

Simon towers over you, his stature imposing and intimidating. He locks a hard glare on you. “I asked you a question, didn't I?” His voice fell to a dangerously low tone. “Why the fuck have you been following me?”

The dam holding back your tears broke, leaving you choking on your own sobs. How could he not know? All these tears, all these cries… how could he still fail to see that it was all for him? To be stripped bare only for him to overlook it. Should you skin yourself alive then? To tear your heart out, to hold the raw, bleeding organ in the palm of your trembling hand as an offering?

“Because I want to know where you are,” You settle for the simpler version, hyperventilating as you take a breath. “You know my place, my workplace... You even went to my cousin’s wedding. And yet, I know nothing about you, Simon. Nothing.”

“You think just ‘cause we fucked a few times, that gives you the right to pry into my life?”

A sharp pang of pain shot through your chest. The world was ruby-colored, either from your boiling anger or the hemorrhage from the sharpness of his words. Your jaw clenched, your gaze sharpened.

“Fuck you, Simon,” you spat. “You know we’re not just fucking.”

The clenched fists at your sides tremble, and you don’t know if it’s from anger or hurt or the weight of your own expectation to make him see it. Or perhaps it’s all three. How could he speak like this when there's a specific section in your dresser for the clothes he frequently brings and leaves, when he constantly returns and stays longer even as the morning has risen, when he drove you to the countryside and dances and twirls you around like those old couples do? Not when he embraces you until your tears subside, nor when each of his kisses offers that one thing you've chased your whole life.

There’s no way this isn’t love. He just needs to stop denying it.

Simon's eyes narrowed into slits. "Then you read it all wrong, darlin'."

The way he said it was cold, without a shred of sympathy—but nothing was colder than the way Simon continually turned his back to you as he continued to walk farther and farther away, as if all he wanted was to get as far away from you as possible. Disgusting woman in love. But you never got the hint, did you? You kept following him, running after him like a stupid little dog created solely to love, love, love, and never be loved back.

“Is that the reason, Simon?” You cried, voice cracking. “Is that why you fucked that woman—Hayley?”

“Who?”

“Hayley. The woman you fucked in the back of that pub alley! Was that why you left me?”

For the first time, Simon was lost for words, gears turning behind his brown eyes. He let out a frustrated sigh, jaw clenched tight. “You fucking stalked me?”

“I did,” you admitted, but this wasn’t an admission of guilt, nor an act of taking accountability. The words falling from your lips lacked the necessary remorse for either of those things. “I know it’s wrong, but—”

“Wrong?” Simon scoffed. “Christ, you’re bloody mental if you think that’s just wrong.”

You try to draw a deep breath through your mouth, your shoulders stuttering with the effort. The pain and the anguish are written all over your face, reddening your skin. But then, something shifts—and when you open your eyes, you are someone new.

Simon watched a thin smile spread across your swollen lips. “Do you think she's a good kisser?”

The question slipped out of you in a voice that was just barely above a whisper, but in the stillness of the night, Simon heard it, caught your quiet words. There was no faltering in your voice, no quaver, no stutter. He felt your pupils searing his skin hotter than the mansion’s fire.

“What?” He asked again, making sure he hadn’t misheard.

You were more than happy to repeat. “Do you think Hayley is a good kisser? Because I know she is—I kissed her. How did she taste? Did you enjoy it?”

“Fucking hell, you’re a fuckin’ psycho.”

“Did she moan when you kissed her, Simon? Did she wrap her arms around you, pull you in closer? Did you run your fingers through her hair—her body? Did she moan your name the way I do when we’re—”

You cut yourself off, your breath hitching again. The numbing agent has worn off, and now you're paying the withdrawal tenfold. Like your own personal hell, the memory of your intimate moments together replays, leaving nothing but a bitter taste and more hot, salty tears streaming down your face.

 “Did she feel as good as I do when you’re buried deep inside me?”

Simon didn't respond, remaining silent. Or perhaps this very silence was his answer. He was always a man of few words, preferring to act instead. Right now, his actions spoke louder than anything.

“Or was she better?” You hissed. “ANSWER ME!”

Nothing. Even when you scream in his face, he keeps giving you nothing. This is the man you love—only able to take, take, and take until there is nothing left to fill the cavern he leaves behind.

You take a step towards him, hands trembling by your side. “Can she love you like I do?”

The confession hung in the air, heavy with the weight of your love and pain. You caught the way Simon’s eyes widened in surprise, but they quickly returned to their stoic stare, and the mask—that damn mask—hid too much for you to make any conclusions about him. The unfairness was palpable: you were tearing your heart out, vulnerable and all exposed for him—while he was hiding behind a mesh of polypropylene.

Always guarded, always unreachable.

Simon’s shoulders rise as he takes a deep breath, gazing up at the sky before turning back to you. “You need to go home.”

“What?”

Before you could really process his words, Simon had already turned and was walking briskly to his car, his broad back starting to move away from you. Hurriedly, you ran after him, your hands outstretched to grab anything of his. Stop. Stop walking away. Stop trying to leave me.

“Simon!” You called out—God, how you hated how weak and pleading it sounded. “Simon, wait! Listen to me!”

Simon reaches his car, already grasping for the handle. Panic rises in your throat. He yanks the door open, ready to get in. Your mind is gripped with desperation, scrambling to find something—anything—to keep him here with you, and yet the only thing that can act fast enough is your voice.

“”Go home,” That’s your response, Simon? After everything I just confessed to you? I just laid my heart bare—I told you that I love you, and your answer is to tell me to go home?!”

You flinch at the sudden slam of the car door. Simon whirls around to face you, chin held high, imprisoning you under his angry gaze. “YES, I'm tellin' you to fucking go home!” He roars, his booming voice quickening your pulse. “I don't want this sappy shit you're tryin' to dump on me. Go home an' leave me the fuck alone!”

“NO!” You shouted, voice cracking as you dangled on the edge of control—on the verge of crumbling. “I won't go home! I-I love you! I don't want to go home!"

You stepped forward, your hands gripping the front of his shirt. "Is it because of me?" you questioned, as if this was the only possible explanation. “Because if it is, I can fix it! I can be whatever you want me to be—I don't care! You don't even have to love me back! Just please, don't leave. If you want, you can always use me—just keep using me. Just don't go, Simon. Please, please, don't leave me."

Because there will always be a really bad part of you that ruins everything. No matter how deeply you love or how faithful your devotion is, it will taint it. At the end of the day, it will be worth nothing. So, if your body is the only thing that would satisfy him—distracting him from your inability to make him love you—then so be it. You were always the cheap and vulgar daughter, after all.

“Fucking hell,” he cursed under his breath. “Stop. Fuckin' stop sayin' shit like that 'bout yerself.”

Despite all your pleading, Simon remains the same man he always was. A rotten one, selfish—a stray dog who loves to wander. He hasn’t changed—his dead heart has no room for your love, for you. The more you try to hold him, the more he eludes your grasp. Perhaps he has grown so accustomed to sadistic things that a woman tearing out her heart for him doesn't faze him anymore.

Or worse: he loves things like this.

A raw, throbbing heart—the soft feast of organs for a home-fashioned dinner. The beautiful swan—you, heart enlarged and sweet from your consumption of his deceit. His prized delicacy, just the way he likes it.

You felt Simon’s hands wrap around your wrist, prying your fingers off him. “No, please! Don’t go, don’t leave!”

But he was unyielding, his mind pinpointed on one goal: to get away from you. He pushed you back. You watched as he turned and opened the car door, sliding inside. Hastily, you tried to wrench the car door open—he had locked it from the inside. You slam your hands against the window.

“Simon! Simon, please!”

The glass vibrated under the force of your blows; your palms stinging with the impact. Tears streamed down your face as you continuously hit the window. Simon turned on the ignition.

“GET OUT!! I’ll die if you leave! I’LL DIE IF YOU LEAVE!”

The car lurched forward; Simon's face remained obscured from view. Your hand slides off the glass as the vehicle speeds away. The sound of the engine faded into the distance, taking with it the last piece of your shattered heart.

You stood there, frozen, alone on the empty street. He was gone.

The bitter realization hits you like a physical blow, knocking the breath from your lungs. You sank to your knees, hands clutching at the fabric of your coat as uncontrollable sobs wracked your body. He was gone, and your last memory of him was his dark eyes staring at you as you begged to mean something to him.

But would it make a difference if the last recollection of him stayed on that sunny day in the countryside? Would everything have been better if you hadn't come here?

You dig your fingernails into the back of your hand, hoping the sting will distract you like it did before. Yet, even after collecting your own skin beneath your nails, the long-awaited numbness never comes. Or is it because no amount of bodily harm can relieve the agony?

(It feels like a kind of living death, doesn’t it?)

Sometimes, you get jealous of euthanized dogs.

@strawberrygato @aprosiacperson @chipsbuttercream @arrozyfrijoles23 @pastel-devil-06 @rroseskull @olives10 @cricricorner

SUPPORT ME THROUGH KO-FI! CHECK MY WRITING COMMISSION. SHARE YOUR THOUGHTS HERE.

[phoenixyfriend]

Weird Egg?

Okay so in theory, Obi-Wan was plausibly on Mandalore when Anakin was born, right?

(this is technically a variation on a few other fics and AUs I've seen, and I'll list the stuff that came to mind at the end.)

While on Mandalore, Obi-Wan finds An Egg while hiding in a cave with Satine. And he doesn't recognize it, and Satine doesn't recognize it, and even Qui-Gon doesn't recognize it.

Which makes it weird, at the very least, and probably rare. It's the size of his HEAD and even though there's no parent around, the egg is… warm, now? He didn't notice at first, but it's definitely producing at least some of its own heat.

So Obi-Wan brings the egg with him, which is a pain in the ass in terms of maneuvering, but they do seem to have better luck avoiding Death Watch than before, which uh. Given that the egg feels warmer when they're getting lucky, and seems to glow in the Force, they think might not be a coincidence. A lucky rock, except it's alive.

Mission ends. Obi-Wan plans to take the egg back to the temple for study in case they just discovered Something, and as he's saying goodbye to Satine… the egg Hatches.

It is a dragon.

The dragon can project words into Obi-Wan's mind. It's not quite capable of complex thoughts yet, but it's a he (probably), and has a name (Anakin!), and considers the person who's been carrying him and protecting him and keeping him warm for the past six months to be his mom!

Obi-Wan protests at this. Qui-Gon decides to make his life harder with the 'correction' that Obi-Wan would be a dad, not a mom.

So now Obi-Wan has a small dragon which will be growing to the size of a house, that imprinted on him and is following him home and calling him dad and insisting on sleeping in his bed

Idk if you've ever read Septimus Heap, but… the MC of that found a Fancy Rock, put it in his bag, carried it around for a YEAR because he kept forgetting to take it out of his bag, and then it hatched into a dragon. And I kept thinking about that the whole time I wrote this.

In Obi-Wan's defense, he does Have A Plan.

Until the dragon hatches, turns out to be a sapient as a toddler (with promise of growth), and calls him Dad.

And now the plan is gone.

He just wanted to bring a cool egg back to the Temple for study!

And now the Mandalorians are pulling out old books about whatever the fuck this is because these things APPARENTLY went extinct around the same time as the underwater dragon-adjacent thing that is the Mythosaur.

Obi-Wan learns that supposedly the eggs are inert until something with the Force interacts with it in a Purposeful Manner.

Which includes "probing it a little to see if whatever is inside is actually alive."

Anakin's a standard western dragon that can breathe fire because Flyte. Also this post.

Weeeee okay small text for the references I mentioned.

Obviously, first up is the Septimus Heap series by Angie Sage, specifically Magyk and Flyte.

The fic series I was thinking of initially that kind of jumpstarted the AU process was Boga Service Varactyl AU, but specifically Kenobi Kafé Service Animal Boga AU.

I've been seeing a couple of dragon shapeshifter AUs, including that post I linked earlier from @ahsoka-in-a-hood, @bubblew0lf1's dragon shapeshifter AU, and @squad-724's Dragon Jedi AU has been all over my dash for the past few days.

Stubborn to the Bones by @tideswept, which was part of what had me connecting the various dots of Obi-Wan Finding Animal Anakin on a mission, though our outcomes are admittedly very different lol. (Their fic is shippy, and mine is more decidedly gen/familial with a slight nod to Obitine.)

[thewardenisonthecase]

Leandra saw one of her children DIE a brutal death right in front of her. She lost one of her children, something that is any parent's absolute WORST nightmare, OF COURSE SHE'S GONNA SAY SMTHG A LIL FUCKED UP. But later on, if you talk to her in gamlen's house after Birthright, and you bring up how she blamed hawke, she even apologizes and says she blames herself.

People bring up the deep roads and how she "only" cared about the twins and not hawke going, but like. She says she can understand why Hawke has to go. Hawke is canonnically 5-6 years older than their siblings + they have been taking care of the family for quite some time now, so Leandra gets why they have to go + she probably believes they are going to be fine, but Carver/Bethany? They're only 20 and she doesnt want to risk loosing BOTH her remaining children in one go, and again, i think she trusts that hawke can handle themselves but not the remaining twin (also. considering that its one of the twins who already died, it makes sense to me shes more over protective of the remaining one). My brother and I are also 5 years apart, and my mom is way more protective of me than him bc he's the oldest and so she trusts him to be more responsible and take care of himself, this is why the standards of how she treats me and him are different. This is just smthg parents do my dude, it doesnt mean Leandra cares less about Hawke. HELL, when Hawke returns from the deep roads without bethany/carver, the first thing Leandra does is call them 'my baby'. like its not that leandra doesnt care about hawke, but the expectations for each sibling are different, and very much like how real parents work, and like i said, leandra probably knows she won't be able to convince hawke not to go + she knows why they're doing it.

(and also. i see some people giving leandra shit for not "doing anything" but she literally tells Hawke how she's gonna go petition dumar so they can get the estate back because she feels like that's what she can do for her family, to guarantee they have a home again.)

and then in act 2, Leandra is like super chill with Hawke??? She's hopeful for the future, even if she's still mourning her husband and child(ren depending on choice), she jokes about picking out a husband/wife for hawke (which sure can have any implications you want, but for me it does show she cares, TO ME) AND SHE LEAVES HAWKE A NOTE SAYING SHE IS PROUD OF THEM.

And then in her final scene (which i DO think actually happened. this is fucking fantasy land idc if 'oh shes a corpse' 'oh her vocal chords' this is a really important moment for both hawke and leandra and to me it did happen) when she is actively dying, she spends those precious few seconds worrying (i'll be with your father and carver/bethany but you'll be here all alone) and trying to comfort hawke. her last words to them are how proud she is of them.

I feel like. a lot of people just dont talk to leandra beyond the obligatory scenes? and then she gets this weird vitriol and i'm like god forbid she's a "flawed" (makes normal and human mistakes) person. she's not a perfect mother but truth be told, point me to who is a perfect mother because she doesnt exist. i do think she gets mor

[anonymouss4uthor]

ghost is your hot neighbor you've been waiting for...

once againnn if anyone knows how to make one of those cute banners of the pictures before the post, please let me know how to do that i cant figure it out!

cw; suggestive smut, age gap

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

Since you were 13 years old, you have had a very very hot neighbor named Simon Riley.

You immediately had a huge crush on him, which your father blamed on puberty. However... this felt more than just hormones.

When you first talked to Simon at 13 years old, he was 30. You would pretend to be "hot" because your puberty fogged mind full heartedly believed he would make an exception for you.

Looking back now, that was weird as hell for you but, it's natural.

It was now your eighteenth birthday, the morning before school you run over to Simons house and knock excitedly. He answers the door, rubbing his eyes. He's shirtless with grey sweatpants on that leaves nothing to your imagination.

"Hey there birthday girl" He grumbles.

You smile big.

"I'm 18 now!" You exclaim.

"Indeed you are, princess." He huffs a laugh.

You grab his hands. He gets surprised, his eyes widen. He quickly pulls away and backs up. "What are you doing?" He asks.

"I was hoping we could-"

"Let me stop you right there. I've known you since you were 13, Y/N. Even if I said yes do you know how bad that would look?! Also, I'm 35 years old, darlin. I am 17 years older than you." He says firmly, trying to pierce it into your head.

"What does age matter? Im legal." You frown.

"Y/N. You're still in school which you should be leaving for right about now. Plus, you were 17 just yesterday." Simon huffs.

"But I'm the birthday girlll" You try to persuade him which he declines.

You go through your school day, bummed out. You tell your friends what happened and they agree with him, the age difference is pretty insane.

You don't care. How could you? Simon has been the man of your dreams for 5 years now. He's the eyes you fantasize about, his lips, his hands, him.

After school, you get dressed for the party you're throwing at your house with just a few close friends and family, you invited Simon and surprisingly he came. You tug him somewhere private.

"I'm sorry about this morning I just- I'm in love with you." You whisper with pleading eyes.

"Y/N..." he sighs softly. "This feels wrong." He murmurs.

"But its not! It's legal and- I wont tell anybody!" You beg.

He declines but, you can feel his resolve breaking. You give it up for today though.

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

Months pass and it's now summer time and you graduated school. You're playing around in your sprinklers in your tinee tiny bikini set shamelessly in your front yard.

You look to Simons lawn to see him washing his car, staring at you- at your body. He never has before, obviously. This is different, you're an adult now and you sure as hell look good as one.

You teasingly confront him from your yard, hollering over. "Creep!" you laugh. He aims his house at you, you squeal and he laughs.

The two of you play in the water together and you end up on the ground on top of him, grass sticking to your bare skin, your bikini leaving nothing to hide.

He blushes and you kiss him. He immediately sinks into it, grabbing your waist gently along with your jaw.

"Your dad will kill me." He murmurs, pulling away. "My parents aren't home." you quickly say.

You rush him inside, taking him to your bedroom. You take off your wet bikini.

"Fuck.. Y/N.." He whines pathetically, you love it.

He strips and hovers on top of you. You quickly tell him that you're a virgin and he pauses the kisses on your neck. He buries his nose into you.

"Forgotten what one feels like~" He coos. "Are you sure you want me to be your first?" He whispers. You nod.

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

Throughout the encounter, he was extremely gentle and careful and very attentive. You loved every second.

You two are now cuddling as he rubs your back.

"That wasn't that bad." You murmur, nuzzling into him.

"What do you mean?" He laughs.

"I heard my first time was supposed to feel like I'm getting ripped apart- It did feel uncomfortable at first but, never that bad." You murmur.

"That's because of the foreplay sweetheart." He chuckles. "Oh that makes sense..." You murmur.

He chuckles warmly.

He's finally yours...

[wlntrsldler]

poisoned mercury | long way home

a/n: poisoned mercury is officially over :( but i will be adding small blurbs in between chapters and adding post-chb five star and luke to the masterlist because i'm not ready to say bye to them just yet. enjoy pm's sophomore album cover, optimism don't come easy (unless it's with you). also no tags for this one because tumblr has been super weird and the tags haven't been working for everyone.

x. long way home by 5sos

series masterlist | previous | next

“thank you all for your participation this summer at camp half blood,” mr. d said into the microphone. he was finishing up his end-of-the-year speech and there was no dry eye in the house. all the campers were sniffling as they reminisced on all the memories they made this summer. your dad cleared his throat, “if any of you tell anyone that i cried, i will never forgive you.” 

annabeth giggled, rubbing the tears from her eyes, “your dad makes that joke every year, i swear.” 

“oh, i’m sure,” you replied, laughing along with her. “above all, he is a dad and that means he recycles the same jokes over and over again.” 

“and they’re never funny,” percy added, though he was laughing at what mr. d was saying. “but i feel like i gotta laugh or else i won’t be accepted next year.” 

“you have my permission to not laugh, perce,” you nudged him. “he gotta get some new material.” 

“hey,” clarisse said from beside you. you turned to her, letting annabeth, percy, and grover fall into their own conversation. she was no longer adorned in her camp counselor outfit, opting to wear something from her own closet now that her duties for the summer were finished. “thanks for getting me this job, y/n. kinda changed my life with this one.” 

your eyes darted between clarisse and chris, who was waiting by the wings of the stage ready for his cue to close out the farewell celebration. you placed a hand on clarisse’s knee, giving it a squeeze, “thanks for always having my back, clar.” 

“always,” she nodded, “you’re my sister.” 

you were feeling a lot of things at once. there were a lot of emotions coursing through your veins. you always knew that there were people who cared about you. your parents had a funny way of showing it sometimes, but you never doubted that they loved you. your friends, clarisse, silena, charlie, were always there for you, even during the most stressful times of your life. the poisoned mercury boys who welcomed you with open arms like you were a part of their dysfunctional family the whole time. 

and luke. 

where do you even start with luke? luke castellan was the boy you had promised yourself never to fall for again. the heartbreaker, the player, the musician, and yet, here you were, completely eating your words. everything you thought you knew about him was wrong and since you let your guard down, your world was turned on its axis. he was so much more than what people made him out to be. he was so much more than you expected him to be. 

and you were lucky enough to have him. who knew a summer in montauk would lead to this? 

“to close out our incredible summer, welcome poisoned mercury!” your dad said, clapping wildly as the boys entered the stage. he placed the mic back on the stand, giving short hugs to the band as they walked up to him. luke was the last to hug your dad and their interaction lasted longer than the rest of the boys’. when they pulled away from their embrace, luke had a slight blush on his face and a goofy grin as his eyes scanned the crowd to find you. 

he sent you a shy wave from the stage as he adjusted the mic to his level. you blew him a kiss, which he returned and that made the crowd go wild. to them, luke was blowing a kiss into the ether, a message with no recipient, but you knew it was meant for you. something about it made your heart constrict in your chest. it was still hard to believe he chose you, but luke spent every waking moment making sure you believed it. 

“camp half blood,” luke said, eyes twinkling under the lights. travis picked up his drumsticks from the floor, giving the left one a twirl, as he got situated on his stool. connor and chris played their guitars experimentally, tweaking the strings to get the right key. “man, i don’t even think we can explain just how thankful we are to have spent the summer with you all.” 

luke turned around to face the boys who all nodded in agreement.luke faced the crowd again, sighing, “i learned a lot of things here. one being, there are a lot of talented people out there in the world. getting to work with y’all was such an amazing experience. many of you guys are aspiring musicians, and i’m here to tell you to keep going. i know it seems like sometimes your dreams aren’t worth chasing, but i promise you they are.” 

“some of you kids are so talented,” luke said, shaking his head in disbelief. “little beth, i’m talking about you when i say this. you’re brilliant and i know i’m gonna be seeing your name in the charts in a few years. you got more talent in your pinky finger than we four up here have combined.” 

the rest of the boys laughed, but agreed. luke narrowed his eyes, searching for a few more faces to give a shoutout to, “oh! and our boys percy and grover! we love you guys. keep in touch. you guys have to join us in the studio one day.” 

“did luke castellan just give us a shoutout?” grover asked, turning to percy with his eyes as wide as saucers. 

you laughed, patting him on the back, “i believe he did.” 

“holy shit,” percy mumbled. 

“language.” 

“come on, counselor clarisse,” the blond boy groaned, “camp is over.” 

clarisse huffed, smiling teasingly, “fine. i’ll give you a pass this one time.” 

“not many people know this, but i went to camp half blood when i was younger,” luke continued, looking down at his feet. “it was my favorite place in the world. some of my best memories involved me sitting right where many of you are sitting right now, but then life happened and things went sideways for me for a while. it took me a while to pick up a guitar again, but man, i’m so glad i did.” 

“if it wasn’t for music, i wouldn’t be here in front of you guys today,” he smiled, locking eyes with you, “and i wouldn’t have had the best summer of my life.” 

“holy shit,” clarisse said, mimicking percy. she turned to you with a wide grin, “castellan is talking about you up there.” 

“he is not.” 

as if he read your mind, luke leaned into the mic, “thanks, five star.” 

your heart swelled as memories of this summer flooded your mind; the smoke sessions in your secret spot that soon became luke’s as much as it was yours. hours sitting on the creaky bench as you both got lost in the fog of vices and genuine conversations. the bench where you learned about luke and he learned about you, something more than just introductions and superficial answers; the countless impromptu jam sessions in your cabin that started with you playing records on your speaker and ended with the boys playing their instruments as they screamed out lyrics to their favorite songs with you and clarisse. constant noise complaints from neighboring cabins because you were being too loud so late at night with melodies and laughter escaping through your open window. luke pulling you into his lap as he whispered cheesy love songs into your ear as you giggled; the days in your room, locked away with luke, enjoying his company. his lips always finding their way back to yours like a promise that he’ll always be around. luke. luke luke. 

you were glad the lights were focused on the stage so nobody could see your red cheeks. the boys cheered from behind luke, unabashedly voicing their approval of your relationship. the crowd cheered along, even if none of them knew what the situation was. luke rolled his eyes at his friends for the commotion they started, “the song we’re playing for you today is not yet released, but we decided that it’s the perfect song to end the perfect summer. this song is called long way home, we hope you like it.” 

–

“did you know you had a dimple on your back?” you asked, letting your finger linger in the crevice on luke’s skin. goosebumps raised on his tanned flesh as you lightly grazed his exposed back. “right here.” 

“mhm,” he replied, off-handedly. he didn’t really know what you were saying. he was too dazed by the feeling of your touch on him. you two were on the grass on the hill by the lake, a reprieve, a plead for time to stop even just for a few minutes. tomorrow summer would officially be over. tomorrow the two of you would be leaving camp half blood. tomorrow you would no longer have empty hours to fill with each other. 

luke didn’t want to think about it too much. he’d gotten too used to finding you lounging in your room or in the living room where he could join you to do nothing. to do everything. he didn’t know how he’d survive the next few months without you. your coach gave you the all-clear to resume practice once you were back on campus, which meant that visits during short breaks were no longer an option. luke was happy that things worked out for you, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed that you could no longer visit him during thanksgiving break. 

droplets of water from your hair trickled down his back. he was face down with his head facing you, eyes fluttered shut as a sign of peace, while you leaned over him, tracing shapes on his back. you’d both just emerged from the water, checking off items on your “summer goodbye bucket list.” that’s what you’ve been up to this last week, revisiting memories and places that you weren’t ready to leave yet. 

you chuckled softly, pressing a light kiss on luke’s spine. he smiled at the feeling of your lips, eyes hazily opening to meet yours. you took your place beside him, propping yourself up on an elbow as you watched luke come back to his senses, “are you even listening to me?” 

“of course,” he lied, grinning at you in the boyish and charming way that always had your knees buckling. he squinted as you moved your head, the heat of the sun hitting his face, “‘m always listening to you, five star.” 

“liar.” 

he laughed then, letting the sound echo into the air, “i try my best, at least. but i’m no multitasker. i can’t concentrate when you’re sitting here all pretty in front of me and touching me like this.” 

“you’re such a flirt,” you grimaced, though the smile on your face gave away your true feelings for the boy. luke looked pretty like this. there was no tension in his shoulders, like he was finally letting himself breathe. you wondered when you’d see him like this again. just last night after the celebration, you two had stayed up talking until deep into the night about how nervous he was to come back to the spotlight. he’d found solace in camp half blood, in not having to look over his shoulder every day in fear of the world. he didn’t know how the public would react to him being back again, especially since he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep up his facade now that it’s all crumbled since he met you. 

maybe it was his lack of sleep that was making him vulnerable and a little delirious, but he shared with you that he felt like he’s changed. the luke that walked into camp half blood who was too scared to be himself in fear of rejection and failure was no longer there. a few months ago, he wouldn’t be caught dead like this, all soft and gentle for a girl. he couldn’t remember the last time he wanted to see a girl more than once. but with you, he couldn’t help it. the luke that he truly was became his default state when he was with you. all he wanted to do was hold you in his arms and be with you for as long as you’d let him. 

“you say that like it’s a bad thing, baby,” he grumbled, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the sun. “you don’t like it when i flirt with you?” 

you rolled your eyes playfully, adjusting your head until you fully blocked the light from his face again. you laced your fingers with his, letting out a hum when he squeezed your hand. “i didn’t say that.” 

“so, let me flirt with you,” luke said. “i like flirting with you. you blush every time i do it and i think it’s fucking adorable.” 

“stop,” you whined knowing that the blush he was referring to was starting to show on your skin. maybe you could blame it on the heat, but you both knew that that would be a lie. it was because of him. it was always because of him. “you like teasing me, don’t you, castellan?” 

“a little bit,” he admitted, scrunching his face up in a way that brought out the creases between his eyebrows. his lips curved into a lopsided smile. his arms reached out to snake around your waist, pulling you on his body as he laid on his back. he placed his hands along the expanse of your bare thighs as you situated yourself on his abdomen. your fingers played with the silver chain around his neck. luke massaged your thighs, sighing out, “i like knowing i have that effect on you.” 

“me and half the female population,” you snorted, “as much as you act like you know just how amazing you are since you have a gigantic ego, i feel like you also don’t give yourself enough credit.” 

luke quirked an eyebrow, “was that a compliment, five star?” 

“don’t get used to it,” you smacked his shoulder lightly, making him let out a chuckle. his chest rumbled from under you as his hands made their way up your waist. luke’s hands were always warm. he had callouses on his fingers from playing guitar and bumps on his palms from lifting at the gym. there were characteristics about his hands that made you believe that you’d know his touch even if you were blindfolded. there was something different in the way he touched you, even in the most innocent ways, you knew when it was luke. there was a light in your brain that would go off every time he was around, like your body, mind, and heart knew when he was there. 

“i’ll take what i can get,” he conceded.

“does it bother you that i don’t compliment you as much as you compliment me?” 

“nah,” he replied, looking up at you. the sun was framing your face in a way that made his breath hitch. you looked ethereal like this. it was like you were a figment of his imagination. luke had to place his hand flat on your ribcage to feel you breathe just to convince himself that you were real. “makes these little moments even sweeter.” 

“but you know, right?” you questioned, eyes not once leaving his own. a shadow of doubt flashed across your irises. “you know what i think of you?” 

luke castellan had a way with words that left you speechless. perhaps it was because he was a songwriter, trained to string together words in a way that you could never achieve. he made a living by writing, by voicing how he felt, and turning it into art, into music. there were many moments where luke would say things so poetically that it made your head spin. he says things so casually, so easily like he didn’t just utter out the most romantic things you’ve ever heard in your life. 

you envied him for it, a little bit. you wished you could tell him how you felt about him as easily as he said it with you, but anything you tried to say felt like it would pale in comparison. luke didn’t mind. you had your own way of showing him how you felt. it was in your touch, taking your time to admire his imperfections. it was in the way you kissed him, smiling so wide like you couldn’t help it whenever he would press his lips to yours. it was in the way you paid attention to him, the little things that he didn’t even realize he did. 

“‘course, i do,” luke tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear. he took his time bringing his hand back to your waist. he liked seeing you nuzzle your face into his palm as you kissed his wrist. “but i wouldn’t be opposed to hearing you say it, either.” 

“i’m not good at saying how i feel,” you said, shoulder hunching as you spoke. it felt like you were letting him in on a secret that you’d never told anyone else. luke could feel his heartbeat in his chest. you dropped the poisoned mercury pendant back on his chest as you leaned down to bury your face in the crook of his neck. “i’m working on it, though. might just take me a while.” 

luke smiled at you. his voice was earnest as he placed a kiss on the top of your head, “we got all the time in the world, five star. there’s no rush.” 

you furrowed your eyebrows at his words, “we leave tomorrow, luke.” 

“mhm,” he repeated, thumb running across your lower back. it made you shiver, the realization of his words hitting you. “like i said, we got all the time in the world.” 

you pulled away from him, cradling his face in your hands as you placed a kiss on his lips, “yeah, we do.” 

[sturniolo04]

Happy 21st Babygirl m.s.

girldad!husband!matt x girlmom!wife!reader

A/n: remember to leave requests in my inbox! If you don’t like the pre added name in my works you can simply put in your own or don’t read it, it up to you :)-Charli

Dividers: @issysh3ll

You and matt were really proud of not only yourselves for getting through the art of parenting but also beyond proud of your daughter, Jayde. Today was finally her twenty-first and you two were planning on surprising her at her college campus at her sorority house tonight and she had no idea.

"mom i can come back home this weekend maybe and we can celebrate I just hate I'm not spending this one with you and dad"

your daughter huffs out into the in progress facetime call with you.

"i know angel but when you come this weekend we can go out to dinner or something its up to you"

you simply reply as she nods her head.

"okay well i have to go brooke is making up do some big sister stuff for the pm's"

jayde sighs out as you see her standing from her spot she was sitting at.

"okay have fun"

you reply as she softly hums out a reply.

"girl its you 21st why are you so down"

Jayde's friend Brooke asks as they are getting ready for the sorority party they were throwing for her.

"i just cant wait to be back home with my parents to go out to dinner with them and celbtrate my birthday with them because it just feels weird that I'm not celebrating it with them on the actual day so"

she honestly speaks out as brooke comes up and hugs her staring at into her vanity mirror in front of them.

"i totally get that but tonight will be fun for sure I promise"

she states simply as Jayde gives her a soft smile. It was true tonight was going to be fun because her sorrors knew how close she was with her parents which is why they personally invited them to come to the party they were throwing her at the house.

"okay happy birthday to the beautiful queen you are here is your birthday present from us"

Jayde's little sister Khloe announcing handing her the scrap book wiht gorgeous pastel pink letter cut outs spelling her name. She already was in tears.

"oh my god guys you all are so sweet"

Jayde cries out flipping through the pages of the scrapbook.

"of course we wanted to make sure your gift was just as special as you are"

khloe states as she leans her head on top of hers.

"awe i love you khlo"

Jayde coos standing up from her seat hugging her. Through the giggles on the laughter the proceeded after opening gifts, everyone was walking around the well-decorated house having some margaritas and snack. Jayde could honestly say she was having a good tip.

"no way you started drinking with out us"

matt's voice cuts through. Once Jayde realizes who it is her face immediately lights up.

"come on now you didnt think we would let you celebrate without us on your big day"

you add on giggling as your daiughter comes running up to you and matt.

"mom dad hiii oh my god"

Jayde squeals out giggling hugging thewm both slightly tipsy from the margarita intake she has had already.

"happy birthday babygirl"

matt chuckles out.

"im so confused h-how did you guys-"

jayde questions pulling away her eyes sparkling in the process.

"brooke"

matt simply states as jayde turns around to spot brooke giving her a smile and making her way over to her hugging her.

"you are amazing Brooke i love you"

she states as she squeezes her tight in the hug.

The next morning Jayde woke up not in her dorm room but in

"my room how when"

she mumbles out quietly observing her surroundings immediately placing a hand to her forehead the pounding from last nights activities setting in.

"good morning"

matt chrips out as he and you come into her room.

"howd you sleep"

you ask your daughter as you both sit on her bed.

"couldve have been better"

she groans out as matt chuckles knowing exactly what she was feeling.

"you still want to go out to dinner tonight"

you ask her quirking a quick eyebrow up at her.

"um actually can we just stay here and order cheesecake factory pasta or something"

she asks running a hand through her messy hair as you and Matt agree to what she asked.

“Did you enjoy your party last night”

Matt question quirking an eyebrow up at Jayde trying to see if she remembered what happened.

“I mean yeah of course wh- what did I do’

She rushes out realizing what he was insinuating shifting her eye contact between you both.

‘You don’t remember”

You ask curious as she simply shakes her head ‘no’

“Let’s just say the margaritas won”

Matt chuckles shaking his head softly.

“Noooo”

Jayde whines pout dragging out the ‘o’

“Yess”

You reply mimicking her.

“Okay jay I think that is enough don’t you think”

Matt catiously asks taking the drink away from her hand.

“WHaT nO i w’snt d’ne w’h th’t”

She slurs out as you started to grab all of her belongings from her sorority dorm room to bring her home for the night before she did anything worse than what she was about to do.

“Okay I think it’s time to go”

You state to Matt and Jayde as matt is help his daughter take off her baby pink heels.

‘Where w-we g’ing”

Jayde hiccups out.

“Bye jay see you Monday”

Brooke exclaims as she replies simply with a sloppy wave begin to stumble slowly out of the house.

“You g’nna make it’

Matt chuckles holding his arms up to catch her if she falls.

“I c’n wWaLk y’know”

She slurs together as you and matt let out a soft giggle.

“Oop oh okay come on let’s go”

Matt chuckles as she falls on the concrete catching her self with her hands.

“THAT FUCKING HURT”

she exclaims as you giggle at your daughter.

“I bet okay up we go”

Matt chuckles out as he picks her up lunging her over his shoulder to carry her the waist of the way.

“Wee I’m flying”

Jayde drunkily exclaims giggling afterwards.

"oh im sorry"

jayde groans out placing her head in her hands as matt slowly shakes his head chuckling along with you letting out a series of soft giggles.

"i mean of course you were bound to experience this side at some point"

you giggle out.

"i do remember the last part of the night sorry about your carpet mom"

jayde sheepishly states out as matt lets out a chuckle.

Taglist

@mintsturniolo @spicymuffins03 @dirtylittleheart333

@stayingstromboli @wh0resstuff @ksturnz @chaoswithus @emely9274 @ivysturnss @sturniolo-szn2 @lezleeferguson-120 @courta13 @chrepsi

[sooocty]

I adore both the on screen adaptions of It

I truly do!

But why do neither adapt the losers encounters with It correctly

(Granted I’ve only seen the mini series once at that was over a two day period because MAN that is long and the older losers are a pain)

—

But in the book the encounters are:

Ben is thought to be the first to encounter It for the 1958 cycle. He’s walking home, after staying late after school to help grade papers with his teacher, when he’s on a bridge in the snow and sees a clown holding balloons. Said balloons are still even though it is very windy. The clown morphs into a mummy, which scares the piss out of him. (Just like Richie, Ben is scared of movie characters he’s seen)

In the mini series it’s this weird thing where his dad is calling out to him, and trying to lure him to the sewers. (Which doesn’t really make to much sense in the “scare” factor)

Then in the 2017 film it’s the dead boy he’s reading about in the news paper. It is better than the mini series in scare factor but doesn’t feel as personal??

There is reference to the mummy in the final battle, but it’s not an alone encounter and that’s what I’m focusing on here.

-

Bev is the best translation in both because it’s done to a certain extent in both. She’s in the bathroom, hears dead kids in her sink, puts a tape measure down there, and then blood shoots out of it. (A not so subtle way to say she’s started her period because she’s scared of turning into a women or adult)

The mini series does this with the balloon in the sink, and the 2017 version does it just with hair trapping her to the sink before the blood shoots in her face (And mouth omg 😭) Both are faithful in the fact she shows the boys. (Which leads to my favorite scene in the book.)

-

Bill goes into georgie’s room, opens georgie’s photo album and georgie’s latest year book photo leaks blood. Which is faithful to the mini series and I feel like the translation the 2017 version does is alright. Not the exact same but I feel like it still is true to his character. As his character leans heavily on Georgie’s death/going missing.

-

Eddie sees a homeless man with leprosy who offers him “favors”. Obviously he’s conditioned by his mother to fear sickness and a leper is a “walking infection”. Also the favors could be seen as Eddie seeing his sexuality as an illness that he needs to be cured off.

The 2017 movie does this almost faithfully minus the favors for obvious reasons.

The mini series does a weird shower scene, that doesn’t say anything about this character (not that I noticed) but it does have what I think is a reference to the “favors” by Pennywise saying “come back anytime”

-

Mike in the book sees a huge bird?? Which neither adaptation does. But Mike doesn’t even get his alone encounter in the mini series as he’s lumped into a group losers encounter with his photo album.

In the 2017 film his parents are killed in a house fire which I feel makes his character more sad than it already is. Especially since we get to see Mike with his parents in the book and I adore that family time we get. (Because he’s honestly one of the few losers with a good home life) But it’s not a poor translation as it gives him a satisfying ending in chapter 2.

-

Richie sees the paul bunion statue come to life, which is done in chapter 2. The mini series has him see The Teenage Wolf which happens in the book. Just both he and Bill see it when investigating Neibolt Street. (It does have Richie’s name on its letter man too)

I like the in the Werewolf more than Paul Bunion because it’s a more childish fear as he, ben and bev actually go see the teen werewolf movie in the book. (And mini series I think? But Eddies also there)

-

Stan (oh how they do my boy wrong 😞) goes to the park to see a cardinal. While he’s there he feels like the stand pipe is calling to him he goes inside. Stan starts to creep up the stairs as he hears clown music and even smells the smells of a carnival. Then he starts to hear wet footprints coming down the stairs and sees dead boys. (Ones he fights off by naming bird species lmao)

Said dead boys come from a story Eddie tells him about kids drowning at the (river or lake some body of water) next to the stand pipe.

My interpretation of this is that he has a more adult fear (something “real” like drowning or death) He also states that he just wants to forget his encounter, and not do anything about it. Stan doesn’t want to fight Pennywise. He wants to forget anything even happened. An attitude similar to the adults of Derry who want to do nothing about Pennywise, just be bystanders. He’s reluctant to even tell the group about his encounter, chopping it up as a dream.

Stan is more “adult” than the other losers. He remembers his childhood unlike the other losers. He knows who William Denbrough is on his books. Stan reads Bills horror novels fondly as if he’s reminiscing on his childhood.

In the mini series they sorta do this justice with a similar set up just instead of dead boys it’s the mummy. Then again it’s a scary movie fear that was originally Ben’s.

But in the 2017 film they make it the painted lady?? (They also just remove birds ENTIRELY from his personality.) Which I feel undermines his character in a sense. Because it’s a childish fear to be frightened of an odd looking painting in your father’s office. So scared he refuses to look at it.

Both adaptations try to give tell you why he’s more scared to returned and his premature death. By having Pennywise single him out. Be that by pinning him to a wall to feed or leading him away from the group to feed.

Both do the job and in the 2017 adaptation when the losers return for a 2nd time to the neibolt house he shows hesitation in returning. But then in the Chapter 2 they give some weird poetic reason of his premature death as a calculated decision .

Which let me be clear it in no way, shape, or form is. The man was just scared. That’s it. There is no needed explanation and personally I feel it dulls his death down to make it a calculated decision.

-

Thank you for listening to me ramble about my current fixation! And comparing adaptions of It by Stephen King.

I wonder who my favorite character is 😭(yes this originally was only abt Stan but I felt that a post only abt him would be too little)

[profectua]

》ＢＬＵＥ ＬＯＣＫ Ｈｅａｄｃａｎｏｎｓ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ; ɴᴏɴᴇ! ᴘᴜʀᴇ ᴄʀᴀᴄᴋ ʟᴍᴀᴏ

ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ; ɪꜱᴀɢɪ, ʙᴀᴄʜɪʀᴀ, ᴄʜɪɢɪʀɪ, ᴋᴜɴɪɢᴀᴍɪ, ɴᴀɢɪ, ʀᴇᴏ, ʙᴀʀᴏᴜ, ʀɪɴ, ʜɪᴏʀɪ, ᴋᴀʀᴀꜱᴜ, ʏᴜᴋɪᴍɪʏᴀ, ᴏᴛᴏʏᴀ

Isagi: Back when he was younger, he had a phase where he would do the dab whenever he scored a goal. It could be completely outdated too and people would cringe at him LMAO. Might’ve also done fortnite dance (he doesn’t even play fortnite). His teammates try to go over and celebrate but he randomly breaks into the orange justice (he can’t even do it properly) so they end up just standing there like 🧍. Let him have his moment I guess???

Bachira: He was one of those kids that played with insects outside or something (speaking from experience) 😭. You’d catch him playing outside and there were 3 worms, each with different names. He probably gave them sad backstories too. The neighbors thought he was weird as hell. If someone pointed it out, he’d be like “Stop being rude to them! They’re my friends!” And he’d actually look pissed off, exactly like this emoji 😠. If he comes back to the same spot only to find that they aren’t there, he’ll come home crying 😭 🙏 Please help him.

Chigiri: He’s canonically a moody guy…I feel like he ‘decides’ his mood for the day ykyk 😭. If it’s a clear sky, sunny day, he’ll choose to be happy but if he wakes up and it’s raining, he decides that he’s gonna be angry. Always ends up breaking character though. If he's laughing and suddenly remembers that he's supposed to be angry, he’ll immediately put on a blank expression again like 😐 and the people around him think they did something wrong LMAOO. Like??? What happened bro???

Kunigami: His go-to pose for photos is the thumbs up or the peace sign and HE LOOKS SO STIFF. He’s just there like 🙂 ✌️. He looks so awkward pls 😭. His little sister is trying so hard not to laugh and he’s just like ???? What's so funny?? If he’s accidentally photo-bombing and realises too late, he’ll strike that EXACT POSE until someone tells him to move cus his brain couldn’t process it ITS SO SAD 😭

Nagi: Once, when he was younger, he tried doing one of those free robux application things where you play a bunch of games for robux and he thought it was legit because some youtuber did it. His parents were like “Seishiro what are you even doing” and he was like “I’m grinding robux mom, you wouldn’t understand” Like Nagi…don’t even get your hopes up 😬. Long story short, it didn’t work and he ended up with some virus on his ipad. He woke his parents up at 3am and was like “um…I think I got hacked ☹️” His parents WERE NOT pleased 😭

Reo: Had a little rebellious phase where he only used cringey Gen Z slang. In front of his parents too and they’d stare at him like 😨. “Zamn ngl this food is bussin’ fr goated no cap,” said young Reo, at a luxurious 5-star restaurant. His mom almost choked on her food. Probably got side-eyed by the waiter too. He didn’t even realise that it wasn’t cool until he found out that NOBODY actually says all that 😭.

Barou: When he’s eating other people's food or eating at a restaurant, he judges it like he’s Gordan Ramsey or something??? Imagine he’s at someone's house for dinner and then when they’re eating he has this whole routine. First he sniffs, feels the texture, then he examines with his eyes, and finally starts eating. You’ll tell if he likes it or not from his expressions 💀 He’ll start interrogating too LMAO. He’d be like “What kind of spice is this?” “How much salt did you add?” HE’S NOT PLAYING YALL.

Rin: Took elementary dodgeball SERIOUSLY. He’d yell at his teammates. Losing? Not on his watch. “WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU DOING?! IT’S DODGE BALL NOT GET HIT IN THE FACE BALL YOU LOSER!”. If he ever lost a game in PE, he’d start crying and throwing a fit, all while blaming his teammates. He would act like an angel if Sae was there though LMAO.

Hiori: He tries to re-enact cool moves from video games. Like if there's a character that has a cool playstyle he’ll literally hop out of his gaming chair just to swing a spatula around 😭. He got the sound effects goin on too, you can hear little pews and booms. Or if there’s a specific voice line from the final boss that he thinks sounds cool he’ll say it out loud (sometimes his parents hear and they think that he’s lost it not that they care though.)

Karasu: He had a huge chess.com phase, probably in middle school. But he was that one kid that goes ‘I wasn’t even trying tho lol’ when he lost (behind the screen he is SCREAMING in rage). ALSO He’s the type to be super expressive (kinda like Barou) 😭. You’ll know when he’s judging you cus’ his face will go 😬 😲 ☹️ 😧 🤔 in that order 💀. He could say something but his expressions reveal all there is.

Yukimiya: When he first got his glasses, he probably forgot them a lot LOL. Like he’d show up to football practice without them and one of his teammates would go “Yo where’s your glasses, Yukki?” and he’d be like…oh yeah. There was probably one point where he thought his eyesight was getting better. He woke up one morning and just decided that he suddenly felt like he had good vision again. It was all in his head 💀.

Otoya: He once tried hitting on a girl when her boyfriend WAS RIGHT THERE and he didn’t even notice. Let’s just say he ran for his life. His older sister has a video recording of it and uses it as blackmail. Worst of all he genuinely thought he could've ‘stolen’ her from him 😭 LIKE OTOYA NO. 😭

[thatchickwithtoomanyhobbies]

The Boys

***My weird head-canons about the boys. Don’t judge me, I know I’m weird. 🤪***

Aiello

-Most definitely a cat person.

-Played baseball since he was a kid and considered going pro but then decided against it.

-Wants to get married but the girls think he’s not husband material despite being pretty good looking.

-A great artist but thinks its not a masculine trait (whatever that means), so he doesn’t do it often or really tell anyone about it.

-A giant momma’s boy. He cried when saying goodbye to her the day he got shipped out and wrote her letters at least once a week. Probably cried at least once while he was gone because he missed her.

-Missed his mom’s cooking to the point that he’d dream about it then wake up starving.

-The youngest of four kids and the only boy. His sisters tortured him with dress up and dolls when he was a kid.

-Not sure if he wants kids of his own but is willing to be the cool uncle.

-Once caught the stove on fire by accident and pretended he found it like that. His parents still have no idea.

-Got hit in the back of the head with an aluminum baseball bat once, cracked his head open, and had to get stitches. His hair still doesn’t grow in that spot but he manages to cover it up.

Stiles

-Definitely somewhere on the autism spectrum. Special interests: philosophy, ancient Greece, Edgar Allen Poe, and of course photography.

-Mom was a single mom majority of his childhood so he is decidedly a momma’s boy. Also very much a feminist.

-He’s got a raging sweet tooth. If it has sugar, he most likely loves it. Especially if its cake.

-Doesn’t really drink because, “I like to be in charge of my mental faculties at all times.”

-So very, very awkward with girls. He tries talking to one, says something he doesn’t realize is creepy and/or weird and scares her off. He still hasn’t had a girlfriend at the age of 22.

-His little sister tries to help him but she thinks he’s a lost cause and is doomed to a life of singleness.

-Once he realized he was most likely getting drafted into WW2 he started researching military tactics because “you can never be too prepared”

-Loved ‘The Hobbit’ as a kid. He’s owned several copies of it over the years because he reads it at least twice a month and they just keep falling apart.

-He was thrilled when Tolkien published ‘Lord of the Rings’ and read it in a weekend.

-Still has his childhood teddy bear and keeps it on his bookshelf. Sometimes he pulls it down to sit in the armchair with him while he reads.

Zussman

-He’d definitely live off of hotdogs and mac n cheese if you let him.

- He was an only child until he was 12 when his parents unexpectedly had his baby sister. He wasn’t excited at first but doted on her constantly once she was born.

-According to her, he’s her best friend. He’d never admit to it at the risk of being called a sissy, but he feels the same way.

-She bawled in his arms the day he left and said she wanted to go with him. He somehow held it together, but after he got on the train he started crying too.

-Whenever he wanted to give up and die while he was a POW he’d think of how she’d feel if he wasn’t there to braid her hair anymore or take her on their “Leah and Robbie dates” and that gave him the strength he needed to push on just one more day.

-Yes he learned how to braid her hair because she wanted him to do it one day and he was upset that he didn’t know how.

-Once he got home, his family refused to let him out of their sights.

-Plays pranks on his family. Sometimes Leah helps, but most of the time its just him booby trapping something and their parents setting them off.

- ‘Robert Cohen Zussman’ said in a very annoyed and somewhat angry tone is very often heard in that house. Along with “What on earth possessed you to do that?” and “What is wrong with you?”

-Although once they realize how close they were to losing him they don’t really mind it as much.

Daniels

-Loves barbecue.

-Enlisted to fight rather than get drafted because either way he was gonna have to go fight and it may as well be on his own terms.

-Is practically married to his grill in the summer. Hazel jokes that he loves it more than her and that he should leave her for it.

-Terrified of clowns. No idea why. They just freak him out.

-Was once dive-bombed and chased by an angry raccoon while Aiello, Stiles, and Zussman were visiting. Zuss had to shoo it away with the broom. After he finished laughing that is.

[youaremycosmo]

《Press here》 taemin x reader scenario

Firstly i wanted to say big thank you for everybodyone who read my previous scenario and liked it! Actually i have so much things in mind, and i'm planning to make some kind of story <3 still it's so much work haha This scenario was inspired by Taemin's sweet instalives, hope you'll enjoy it!

Word count// 1,008 words

Pairing// Taemin x you

Summary// Little sweet talk before sleep... or maybe something else :D

Genre// fluff + mild naughty talk

Warnings// none MASTERLIST

- Ah, when will you be done? - Taemin groaned again in past twenty minutes, sitting in bed under the covers and staring at you constantly.

- Give me one moment more, please - you replied, slightly annoyed by his questions, and reached for another cream. You were sitting at your desk with your legs crossed and just have been doing your evening routine. The day was quite busy today, you had a test and a few classes, so it was relaxing to have some time to yourself.

Taem, however, was so impatient today. All the time he patted the spot next to him on the bed or pushed back the covers saying it's time for you to lay down. Yes, his arms were also a comfortable place to rest, but you needed soothing atmosphere filled with taking care of your body.

- Baby, you don't have to put on so many creams, you're already beautiful - Tae complimented you sweetly. You snorted under your breath at his words and glanced at him. Taem blew you a kiss and smiled widely.

- I'm beautiful because I put cream on myself, baby - you answered as lovingly yet artificially, looking back at the mirror. - Besides, you could take care of yourself too, if you're so bored…

- I already applied my cream - he said happily. - I smeared it on my face and… look, even my elbows are soft and moisturized! - he pulled up the sleeve of his Kuromi pajamas.

You blinked a few times as Tae showed you his elbow. Sometimes Taemin really said weird things and acted… at least unusual.

- I'm impressed, really...- you replied after a moment's thought, suppressing a chuckle. - Do you need some kind of reward for this?

- A kiss. I like kisses as rewards - he murmured, completely missing your sarcasm. His eyes went to the button as he started playing with it. In moments like these he definitely didn't look nineteen, with his cute expression and just being in his affectionate and clingy nature.

- You're too spoiled, definitely - you put eye pads and crawled over him to your side of the bed, pecking his lips lightly in the process. He was actually right, even those were moistured with strawberry lip balm.

- And that's not going to change because I like being your spoiled baby - he said with satisfaction, adjusting his pillow and laying down next to you. - What is it? - he asked, running his finger under your eyes.

- Eye pads. I'll take them off in a moment, you couldn't wait - you rolled your eyes, sighing heavily.

- Of course i couldn't wait to hug you - Taem smiled playfully and got a little bit closer. You just stared at each other faces in complete silence for a long moment. Even though you were further than usual, you could still feel the radiant warmth of his body, as well as the incredibly strong love written in his eyes as he carefully traced every inch of your face.

It was a few weeks now since you moved out from your parent's house. Everything still seemed so weird and kinda clumsy, because there wasn't anybody who would say what should be done in home. Of course you knew how to do household duties, but Taemin was much more laid back about it. He often said you shouldn't be so stressed about little mess or preparing meals, but you just wanted this place to be as comfortable as possible. Because it was your and Taemin's home.

You frowned slightly and leaned closer to his face. You reached for his chin, making him show you the right side of his nose. For a few days now, you have noticed a strange dot in this place, which finally today took on the right colors and showed its appearance. But it was still barely visible.

- I was wondering what is it, and you're just getting a mole here - you said thoughtfully. - You didn't have it before…

Taemin grinned, obviously pleased with your little discovery. - It's especially for you... Of course, besides it makes me even more handsome - he said amused, reaching for your hand.

You watched carefully as he gently flexed your fingers, leaving only your index finger.

- If you press here… - he put your fingertip to his new mole. - I love you - he tensed the body slightly, saying it in a changed voice.

You laughed out loud. - You're an idiot, I swear - you snorted and he undaunted pressed your finger to his nose again.

- I love you - he said again, this time looking deep into your eyes. - You can press whenever you need it - he murmured, kissing your fingers affectionately. Even though you had been together for over three years, all his gestures were still so tender and filled with undying emotion.

However, you bit your lip lightly, carefully reaching out your hand from Taem’s grip.

- What if I press here? - you asked with giggle, reaching quickly under the covers and squeezing his crotch lightly. Taemin widened his eyes in surprise, even moving his hips back slightly at your gesture. Well, sometimes your playful side would start when he didn’t expected it at all.

- Hey, I'm all romantic here, and you only think about one thing! - he said indignantly, but it caused him to let out a soft laugh. You knew it was just a cover and Tae loved being sweet and innocent as much as a little bit naughty.

- It's not true - you whined loudly and quickly sat on your boyfriend’s hips. - I'm currently thinking of pressing more points on your body than just one - you added excitedly. - And the first one is here - You touched his lips with fingertips.

- Can I say something anyway? - he asked quietly, visibly stifling his giggle.

- Aish, let it be. Quickly - you rolled your eyes, taking your fingers slightly away.

- You look so weird with those eyepads, I won't be able to focus - he said completely seriously just to burst out in laugh, to which you started to hit his arms in annoyance. Sweet talk switched to lighthearted wrestling match just in few seconds, but it was so you and Taem.

[cosmicrescendo]

honestly i think reducing the shoma's dad actions that allowed him to take michiru as his """"wife""""" and have shouma as "bestiality" is like, a stupid joke at best and at worst.......?

twitter is where saying Words Mean Things gets stones thrown at you so i'll rant here. but like. Dehumanizing a group of people into a commodity in various ways (physical labor, turning them into goods or spectacle, while also literally eating them) while also housing some form of envy or sexual attraction to them. Is Very Much Not A New (or Fictional!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) Concept at all. it feels Really Odd To Me to box it down to That Word Specifically. I feel like early Gavvheads calling it a "fetish" feels more apt.

like the problem at hand is that "ooh it's like he fucked a cow" NO. THAT IS NOT HOW IT WORKS. Firstly, bestailty isn't gross because because you're fucking something you could eat. The problem with bestiality is like. you are forcing yourself onto something that cannot consent and in some cases literally does not have the capacity to understand what you are doing to it. Common (consensual) fictional human/non-human pairings typically follows that these two species are on a similar mental level, they can Understand and Communicate with each other, therefore enacting consent between both parties is possible and thus who cares if they fuck or not. This is the reason why you typically do not blink at the occasional kaiju/human pairs that appear in these shows.

Secondly, going back to the "cow" metaphor: Granutes do not naturally eat humans. They are quite literally from a different dimension, and while granutes unfamiliar to humans seem a little weirded out by their appearance....any Granute would be able to recognize a human as a "person" (from the social, philsophical, and occasionally legal definition of those who have personhood) and vice versa if I made them sit down and have a conversation for 20 minutes. By agreeing with the statement of calling the humans livestock, aren't we subtly justifying their approach of dehumanization and exploitation towards humanity? (Words mean things.....)

Thirdly.....Finally. What's the real reason that the Stomachs are replused by this outcome. Rango spells it out best: the Granute world is one of where Power rules all. The strong flourishes. And as a blossoming kingpin of the granute underworld, wouldn't the Stomach patriarch exemplify this to his children? Which is why its so revolting to them he "degrades" himself by having relations with a human, the weak and exploitable creature he bulit his empire on. By lowering himself to their level* as he takes one as a wife and another as a child, he has lost their respect as a symbol of power. I find it even funnier that this news is broken to the trio as they are actively wearing their human forms. The show doesn't seem to want to comment on the human disguises in any capacity, but I feel like it's rather obvious they have some sort of attachment to their human forms, even if small. They enjoy the benefit of adopting the human look, but an actual human amidst them, and god forbid an granute that naturally appears human? Disgusting.......

there is no conclusion to this i just got mad at seeing that joke over and over. good night

(*Ok like, both you and I, the adults watching at home know that Michiru and Bouche's relationship is anything else but equal and the "Power" that defines the Stomach Family Is Very Much Present Here In This Relationship! Shouma and Michiru are essentially like property, the former behind an extension of his pride as children unfortunately can be to their parents which is why he attempts to """fix""" Shouma so that he may be Strong and not an embarrassment to him. But like Dad showing up with "hey this is my new wife and son." to them gives them that impression as opposed to using other words, ok?)

[meltedbluecaterpillar]

Welcome to my blog where I talk about Ruggie Bucchi and clothes because I love clothes.

I think Ruggie is well versed in street fashion the older he gets. I will explain. I think... Money wise he doesn't prioritize brands. But he hangs out with Leona. I think... In my mind... Leona plays dress up with him because when they hang out... Ruggie looks homeless. So Leona feels irritated hanging around someone without swagsauce. I think Ruggie is fashionable (a lot of the Twst cast is) but he just can't afford his dreams haha.

I like clothes a lot. When I write fanfiction, I plan out fashionable clothes for my x Readers. I love the idea of a character I like wearing clothes I like to see them in or fashion that suits them out of uniform. In a fic I wrote, I mentioned a character wearing True Religion jeans. Because it makes sense for him.

Here are clothes I want to see Ruggie wear/I might mention in writing/I want to draw him in:

The Goofy Shirt x Shorts

So, I'm black if you did not know. As in African American (I am biracial but both parents in my life are black) and that means I grew up with a lot of black men in my life dressing like this. Me and my friend joined forces and agree Ruggie Bucchi is Afro Latino. He is pale because he is at school on an Island, he doesn't get cooked in the sun so he lacks melanin.

But he dresses like this. I like him wearing shorts because I like that Ruggie has long legs despite being a somewhat short guy. Shorts like this make him look taller (the illusion of baggy clothes also making you look thin) and I actually do like him in boots a lot. Firstly, when I write Ruggie, I write him as someone who's second home was the streets. Boots, especially steel toed work boots are heavy. I actually own a pair and I will explain. There is a bit of heel on work boots. So you get an extra inch of height. But they're heavy because of the steel put in them to protect your feet. In my mind, Ruggie get's into fights sometimes. Have you ever been kicked by someone in a steel toed boot? The bruise is giant and you could get something broken. In his dorm card he also wears boots so I think if she needs to, he can do what needs to be done.

It suits him to wear boots when he looks like he's on a lil' mission. (I will talk about other shoes on him later.) The goofy shirts is something I think he would like. Shirts with bizarre imagery on the front is something you usually would get secondhand and he is a thrifting guy. He goes to places like that for fire fits. They house personality so when I draw or write Ruggie I usually picture him with a weird shirt on.

It makes sense to me. And I hope you see my visions.

For brands I write/draw for him specifically? I will say usually it's older street fashion that is considered 'outdated but still trendy'. I will build him an outfit of what I think he would wear at some point.

Ed Hardy x (Thrifted) True Religion

I think this would be something he wears. At least since its so hot. It is my personal opinion so you don't have to agree with my post. Something like this while going out with a friend. I think he likes odd clothing like the shorts and they have the thrifted vibe. Especially since Ed Hardy is a form of 'street/punk' fashion. Motorcycles and all of your favorite plugs wore Ed Hardy. I think Ruggie's holy grail would be thrifting True Religion (anything) or anything luxury. He doesn't buy stuff like that for full price ever but he laughs knowing the rich toss this stuff out so easily. This can be paired with any basic steel toed boots and classic white socks. Accessories... I think Ruggie would like bracelets. Oh, I usually give Ruggie a think gold chain. Why? ... Growing up, my younger brother and my dad were obsessed with gold chains. It was a thing that made sense. Seeing a black boy smile over his first gold chain. It was a sign of... Adulthood almost. You get your first job and at the age of 15 - 17 every boy I've met has either saved to buy a car or a gold chain. It is a personal thing to me and I think Ruggie bought himself a chain. (This is also because Ruggie wears a traditional necklace from the Afterglow Savana made of wooden beads and stones I think) I think that he can't drive... So a car is pointless especially at NRC, so I think he bought himself a chain with his first check. He was told buy his granny to be selfish for once. To use what he earned for something he wanted. "Make one dumb purchase and then be responsible. Just once' so I think Ruggie 'grew up' buying a gold chain from a pawn shop.

It's culture if that makes sense. I think it's dope.

I will come back to this later, and I will add a second post of another style I think he would wear. I can do Summer, Fall, and Winter... Maybe... Thank you for listening to me ramble. I had fun.