#and it's right next to the beach house
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asgardian--angels · 1 year ago
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folks on twitter are convinced izzy is going to die in the finale
dunno where I stand on that, as it wouldn't make narrative sense as far as I can tell, but people have pointed out a couple of shots in the trailer/bts footage where it looks like izzy's, at the very least, incapacitated, and then a later scene with a grave on the beach. the episode description says 'a devastating loss' which, yknow, isnt reassuring
that being said - I'm more confident that the Revenge is going to be destroyed somehow. the tagline for this season is 'prepare to have your ship wrecked' which is most likely a double entendre, referring not just to ed and stede but the literal ship too. this could also be the 'devastating loss' and what jenkins is referring to partly as 'the end of piracy' - and the circumstances around ed and stede leaving off the season living in that beach shack. the revenge is sacrificed/caught in the crossfire during the battle with the English, and works to symbolize Ed and Stede leaving that life behind.
could be both. who's to say. I'd hate to lose Izzy after he's worked so hard to break free from the confinement of pirate culture, and after the incredible performance Con has given us. the season opened with izzy dying in a dream; on the one hand, it would be cyclical to have him die in the end, but on the other hand, it would be more fitting for him not to, as stede was wrong in his dream to have izzy being the thing in the way of his and Ed's happiness, when the whole season showed us otherwise. on the other other hand, izzy's comment about finally understanding that ed and stede are good for each other might be foreshadowing to him sacrificing himself so they can escape the english, as a callback to when he sold them out in season 1. suppose we'll find out in a few days...
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kittykatstiles · 4 months ago
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just finished hedwig new fic Yes to Heaven.. now what the hell i’m supposed to do next with my life
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megumi-fm · 8 months ago
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#okay random story time i don't know why im narrating this or how i even stumbled upon this memory rn#but i generally do sad vents in the tags and for a change this is a funny one#so back in highschool (i say highschool but i mean junior college) i used to visit this park near my house a lot#i was an sg kid back then and the thing about parks there is that they're kinda beach-parks and they have the best cycling/running tracks#they're also really massive parks so i used to go often. sometimes bicycling. other times walking. yeah. the park was like my sanctuary#anyway. there are quite a few bike rental areas in the park and there was a cute lil shop next to this one particular rental place#and they sold like biscuits and water and icecreams and stuff and i went there a lot#and on one particular day i went there and there was this guy around my age part timing at that shop#now again this might be culture specific bc i dont see it in india but part timing in uni/pre-uni is pretty common is sg#a lot of shops and restaurants employ teenagers to twenty something ppl for part time jobs... anyway im just adding context#point is that i had walked to the park with my mum that day and she told me to go buy a couple icecreams so i went to the shop#and i saw this guy around my age and like. not to be a simp but this dude was so pretty?#like he saw someone had come to the counter so he looked up and shot a smile and i thought i got slapped by sunlight#i could spend the next several lines going on about his pretty tan skin and his glowing raven eyes but this is pathetic enough so ill stop#anyway he saw me and smiled really wide (customer service smile- i thought to myself) and i smiled back and asked for icecreams or whatever#and then this guy started getting chatty right. so he was all 'you come here (to the park) often right? ive seen you with your bike a lot'#see now. the problem with me is that i always think im bothering people. this poor dude was attempting to make conversation#and i was replying with one word answers#and i wasn't even realizing that he didnt want that. bc he kept asking more questions and i. kept. shutting them down.#then when he gave me the icecream he was all 'are you here alone? icecream alone is no fun... i could keep you company if you want..?'#which. he was being really cute about right. but because im so fucking dense i was all 'oh no i came with my mom actually'#and he went 'aw man' in this really cute but faux sad way which i didnt understand at the time and i left and then#after three full fucking days. i realized this man was tryna hit on me?#and then i went to the park like a week later and he was gone. poof. i even thought of asking the uncle in charge of that place#then i got too embarrassed and chickened out#yeah so turns out my neurodivergence neutralizes any sort of rizz that comes my way#i could've been chilling with a cute boyf rn but no😩 this is my destiny#megumi in the tags
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doom-dreaming · 11 months ago
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god help me i'm back on my bullshit
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alexisrosemullens · 5 months ago
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Jfc I will cry if my water heater goes out. It’s only three years old.
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bloodwards · 2 years ago
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dreamt that my parents bought a house right next to the beach and they were taking me there for vacation but then I accidentally hit my phone with my knee and it’s entire screen cracked so badly the phone stopped working entirely. so. you know. I guess it’s win some lose some.
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fazcinatingblog · 1 year ago
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okay so this is a weird confession but i'd never actually watched the music video for Anti Hero.... until now.
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whytheylosttheirminds · 3 months ago
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the boy is mine - r.c.
(blurb, 1.4k words, season 4 bf!rafe x gf!reader)
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summary he's got finally got his shit tight, but now everybody wants him, and that just won't do...
content fem receiving oral, 18+ minors do not interact
✧・゚: *✧・゚:* *:・゚✧*:・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚:* *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
The sun was hot and angry, casting a golden glow on Rafe as he cracked another beer and threw it back. You watched his tall frame from your beach chair, lip between your teeth as you took in the sharp panes of his stomach. You squirmed slightly while your eyes tracked the little trail of hair that led lower, lower…
But you weren’t the only one looking. 
The music bumped through someone’s speaker as a group of bikini-clad girls pulled up their chairs and umbrellas right next to your group’s coveted spot.
Your friend leaned over in her beach chair, “think someone’s got eyes for your man.” You followed her nod to the gaggle of bottle blondes with fake tans who were whispering to each other and smiling in his direction. 
“That’s cute,” you snorted.
Rafe was none the wiser to their stares, reaching his hand down to help you to your feet, pulling you toward the water behind him.
“Think you’ve got some fans,” you told him once you were bobbing in the waves, your arms around his neck as he crouched low to meet your eyeline.
He smirked, “maybe I should go sign some autographs.”
You smacked his shoulder, making him laugh despite your pouty frown. He stood from the water, lifting you with him so they could see your legs wrap around his waist. He grabbed your ass, holding you up with ease as his lips found yours.
The girls on the beach were suddenly very busy checking their phones and setting up umbrellas, disappointed looks on their faces as Rafe showed you off.
Back at his house, Rafe lead you into the outdoor shower, turning on the lukewarm water to wash the sea and sand from your body. When he caught you frowning, he tapped the side of your head gently, his signature way of asking what’s on your mind.
“I’m glad you’re so successful, I just don’t like that everybody suddenly wants what’s mine,” you explained.
He looked down at you, eyelids low as his gaze traveled over your body. His hands slid up your sides slowly, thumbs slipping under the thin string of your bikini top, sweeping over your ribs.
“So possessive,” he smirked.
“Just think everyone should know you’re off limits by now,” you whispered, stepping closer to him until you were chest to chest.
You nudged your nose against his neck, guiding him to tilt his chin up and reveal his throat to you. Your lips started out soft, tickling him with little kitten licks between each gentle kiss. When you reached his Adam’s apple, you let your teeth graze over the sensitive skin. Rafe winced, his obvious erection pressing against your belly and making you hungrier for him than ever. 
Finally, you sucked harder, right where his neck meets his broad chest. After a few moments of pressure, you pulled back and wiped the glossy spit from your lips, smiling in satisfaction at the purple-blue mark you left on him. You moved to leave another, but he interrupted you.
“Bet those girls on the beach wouldn’t tease me this much,” he grumbled.
You responded by wrapping your fingers around his throat. He chuckled smugly under your hold, deep vibration tickling your palm. It’s merely a symbolic gesture, your small hand doesn’t even fit half way around his neck. You squeezed harder, but he was still smiling. You narrowed your eyes at him, no more fucking around.
Your hand snaked up higher, around to the back of his neck. As you ran your fingers up over his buzzed hair, you let your nails scratch enough to raise goosebumps along his skin. When you reached as high as you could go, standing up on your tiptoes and still nowhere near matching his height, you pressed his head down hard, nails digging into his scalp. 
Rafe stumbled for just a second before understanding the assignment. He lowered to his knees slowly, shuffling forward until your back brushed against the wall, the water from the shower cascading over your shoulders and down your body.
“Bet those girls on the beach couldn’t make you drop to your knees without saying a single word either,” you taunted him.
He grabbed your hips and dug his fingers in, pushing you back against the wall hard.
“Tell me who else, baby,” you continued, “who else can put big bad Rafe Cameron on his knees? Hmm?”
His stare was icy as he looked up at you from the ground. You returned your hand to the top of his head, redirecting his gaze to your bikini bottoms.
“Show me who you belong to, baby boy.”
You could tell he was considering fighting back, the desire for control almost tempting enough to bring him back to his feet. But then he saw the growing wet spot over your center. Licking his lips, he nodded slowly, like a king admiring his feast.
His long fingers untied your bathing suit strings one at a time, causing the thin fabric to fall away and leave you bare in front of him. You lifted one foot to his shoulder, lowering him even further.
Rafe looked up at you, eyelashes fluttering over his pretty blue eyes as he spread you with his first and middle finger, his tongue flicking between them and hitting right where you needed it to.
“Exactly like that,” you sighed, head falling back so the water from the showerhead ran through your hair like a waterfall. “You know just what to do.”
No rush, he took his time. This was his house. He could take you on any surface, in any room, at any time. And he would. But first he was gonna make you come on his tongue right out in the open air. 
He’d developed this whole neighborhood, practically running this half of the island at this point. All these new houses were filled with people who owed him money. He runs this shit, and yet here he was, on his knees for you. The thought was so fucking hot, you had to bite back your moan.
“Nah let it out, angel,” he coaxed between sharp licks to your clit. “I want you to scream ‘til the neighbors hear, yeah?”
You smiled big at that command, “you want all your new neighbors to hate you?”
“I don’t care what they think as long as their checks clear.” 
He lowered his mouth to your entrance, lapping you up, grinding his nose back and forth on your clit until he was completely buried, covered in you. You couldn’t even feel the water falling on you anymore, your skin on fire with pleasure. Rafe’s hands slid up your thighs and over your stomach, before slipping under your bikini top and palming your tits with perfect pressure.
As instructed, you let your moans and cries fly. When he let one hand fall from your chest so he could slip two fingers inside you, curling at the knuckles and tapping the tips against your g-spot, your whole body trembled.
“Mmm, that’s perfect,” you praised. “You gonna make me come all over your face?”
“Fuck yes,” he groaned, licking a long stripe across your clit. “Make a mess for me, baby.”
He circled back, dragging his tongue the other way as his fingers danced along your walls. Your foot pushed hard against his shoulder, like you were trying to stomp him out, but he held himself up against you, the burning stretch in your thigh only adding to the intense pleasure.
“Oh my god! Yes, yes Rafe!”
You soaked him, one hand on his head and the other digging into the flesh of his shoulder as you came.
When you finally cooled down, body weak and wrung out with pleasure, he stood and guided you even further under the cool stream of the shower. He rubbed his hand along your inner thigh, letting the remnants of your high wash down the drain. 
“Now why the fuck would I need any other girl when you give me that, huh?”
“That’s right, baby,” you agreed with a blissed out grin. “I got so much more for you, too.”
Rafe carried you into the house, and he didn’t even have to ask for you to get on your knees. 
Before you started, he made sure all the windows were wide open so everyone in the neighborhood could hear exactly who he belonged to.
✧・゚: *✧・゚:* *:・゚✧*:・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚:* *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
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cc-cuttlefishculler · 1 year ago
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i wish i had like a lawn chair or somehtign. so i could set up shop at the beach and just hang the fuck out
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poguehearted77 · 2 months ago
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Stormbound
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Summary: There's a tropical storm headed straight for the OBX but Rafe won't leave you alone.
smut: dom! rafe, pogue! reader, mentions the pogues, fingering, secret alliances, rafe is a good bad guy, making out, unprotected sex, big dick rafe, choking, teasing, floor sex, missionary, protective rafe, mutual pining but both are too stubborn to admit it.
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The rain is just a steady drizzle when you start the long walk back from Figure Eight, cool and misty, soaking through your baby tee and denim shorts, but not quite cold enough to make you turn back.
Not that you would even if it were—the map you’d stuffed in your back pocket was too valuable to leave behind, and JJ had been so insistent that you’d be the one to get it.
It was a worn-out paper, a little frayed around the edges from too many hands clutching it too tight, and tonight, it held the Pogue’s best lead. JJ had been so confident about this—said it’d help them find the next clue, but you were the only one available to get it.
Just in and out, he’d said, sure as always, but of course, that had been before the storm started closing in. Even though you should've been back in the Cut by now, having ridden on the back of JJ's bike as he promised you he would, but of course, he forgot. You cross your arms and mutter to yourself, “Damn it, JJ. This better be worth it.”
The streets around you are silent, eerie even, with all the houses in Figure Eight shuttered up tight in preparation for the coming storm. It’s desolate and unsettling, making you all the more eager to get back to the Cut. But you’re barely halfway there when you hear the low rumble of an engine behind you.
Of course, you think. You don’t even need to turn around to know who it is.
Rafe’s truck slows to a crawl, matching your pace, his headlights cutting through the rain. You feel his eyes on you as he leans out the window, looking you up and down with a mix of amusement and exasperation.
“Y/n? What are you doin' out here?” he calls, loud enough to be heard over the rain.
You ignore him, quickening your steps, but he’s persistent. The truck keeps rolling alongside you, just close enough that his voice still carries over the sound of the rain.
“You know there’s a storm coming, right?” he asks, his tone somehow both mocking and concerned. “You’re not gonna make it back before it hits.” A crack of thunder roars through the sky.
“Really? I didn't know that,” you mutter, not bothering to look his way. “Just go away, Rafe.”
He lets out a sigh, exaggerated, and you can practically see him rolling his eyes. “Jesus, can you stop being so damn stubborn? Just get in the car. I'll give you a ride back to the Cut.”
“No thanks.” You keep walking, setting your jaw as you ignore the urge to shiver, the rain starting to pick up, chilling you through your soaked clothes. With another quick glance at the darkened sky, you're now considering taking the shortcut along the beach to shave off some time.
But still, Rafe doesn’t drive off. He just keeps creeping along beside you, the engine of his truck a low, constant hum as he matches your pace. “Stop fucking around, Y/n. If you get caught out here you'll never make it back.” He warns but your shoulders shrug.
“I like those odds a hell of a lot better than risking a ride with you.” you snap, the suppressed shiver prevails as the rain intensifies, falling harder, faster, in cold, fat drops that slap against the pavement and blur the world around you.
Thunder rolls in the distance, low and ominous, and Rafe’s truck finally comes to a full stop as he pulls over. A second later, you hear his door slam shut, and when you glance back, he’s striding through the rain toward you, his face set in an exasperated glare.
“Are you done being difficult yet?” His voice cuts through the rain, his eyes locked on you, unyielding and determined. You hasten your pace, heading down the unpaved path towards the beach with Rafe trailing behind you with calls of your name.
This goes on for too long. The rain is relentless now, pouring down in thick sheets that chill you to the bone. Your vision was so distorted you could hardly see where you were going. You feel yourself starting to shiver, but you lift your chin, refusing to back down even as the storm rages around you.
A heavy hand holds you by the shoulder. “Jesus Christ, Y/n. You're gonna get yourself killed! The storm's just getting started-” he says, his exclamations punctuated with a bright bolt of lightning striking down not too far in the distance followed by a boisterous rumble of thunder.
"Shit!" You both curse before Rafe motions to the storage house up ahead, "We've gotta take shelter before shit goes south."
Even in life and death, your naturally skeptical nature overcomes you as you genuinely take the moment to consider the proposition. The rain was pummelling over the both of you, dripping down your faces, causing you both to squint, “Fine.”
For once there's no smugness in Rafe's expression. It's shielded by a look of relief, initially anticipating more resistance but he doesn’t say another word as you rush towards the shed and lock the doors shut.
The shed was spacious but dark. You took a step forward, or maybe a step back, but you weren't sure, almost instantly tripping over what you can only assume was a pale of some sort. You complain, "I can't see shit in here."
"Hang on," Rafe mumbles, followed by the indistinct sound of ruffled pockets and keys clinking together. The familiar spark of a lighter flicks a flame to life and gives you the light you've needed.
For a moment your eyes meet over the lighter. You clear your throat, looking around for something useful to keep the place lit, a gasp of relief falls from your lips as you locate a dusty lantern on the top shelf.
Raising yourself to the tip of your toes, your fingers are just barely grazing over the glass body of the object before a large hard, adorned with a few rings is already reaching over your head and bringing it down.
"I don't need your help." You snatch the lantern out of his grasp and it causes him to lose balance on the lighter in his left hand, the light goes out for a moment before he relights it.
"Can you ever be fucking grateful for once in your life? Would it kill you to say thank you?" He takes the lantern back and lights it, setting it down on the lower shelf.
"Why should I thank you? You're egotistical, narcissistic, selfish-" Your unfiltered rant is cut short by the pressure of his hand wrapped around your throat. You immediately try to move from him but the weight of his grip holds you in place.
"Selfish? Who's the one that made bail for you when you were caught trespassing in Tanny Hill?" Your brows furrow, "What? Shoupe said it was a wrongful arrest." He shakes his head, his hold around your neck loosens but you don't move it. "That was me. Who's the one that made sure you and those pogues made it off Dead Man's Island untouched when you'd stolen from them? Me."
You couldn't believe what you were hearing, "That doesn't change the fact you're still an asshole. I saw you tampering with my drink at the bar and I got upset then you threw it at my feet-- "That drink was roofied. I saw the bartender spike it," His hold tightened a little more, "Don't worry, I made sure he couldn't use his hands for a long time."
Your stomach was in knots, for once not in a way that made you seasick anytime you were with Rafe. This time was different, there was slight adoration building within you. His eyes were cold, hard, and protective. Without thinking you slinked your hand around the back of his neck and pulled him in for the first kiss of many.
The cold shed quickly filled with warmth as you familiarized yourselves with each other's bodies. Your clothes were now in the pale that tripped you earlier and Rafe's shirt was nowhere to be found, possibly hung up on the wall with the life jackets.
Rain lashes against the walls of the shed, a fierce, steady drumming that drowns out every other sound. The wind howls through the cracks, sharp and wild, whistling as it sweeps across the beach, sending gusts of sand and spray pelting against the flimsy structure.
The ruckus was the least of Rafe's concerns as he had you on your back on a pile of beach towels, moaning his name as he fingered you incessantly with his right hand, his left pinning your leg down to stop moving.
"R-Rafe!" Your vision begins to darken, and your heart rate picks up as you quickly stumble toward your high. The lewd sounds of your slick humiliated you, not because of what it was but because Rafe made you like this. You had Rafe Fucking Cameron between your legs and you loved it.
"Yeah? You got somethin' you wanna say?" He teases, his pace relentless and unforgiving as your body spasmed, your wetness covering his fingers as they stretched you open. The coolness of the metal rings adds a cold surprise with every glide.
"I'm-- fuck! Gonna-" You're interrupted by your own orgasm once Rafe accelerates to a pace that you couldn't handle without being blinded by the heavens. "You look so fucking pretty when you come" Rafe remarks, voice deep but a little unstable. Unsure how long he could maintain his composure.
Not long at all it seems.
The moment the bulbous head of his cock had caught in the ring of your wet heat, he sank himself into the hilt. "Shit-Shit- Shit!" A pained his scratches up the walls of his throat, not giving you a second to adjust. Your back arches off the towels, eyes glossy as they stare up at Rafe whose eyes are screwed shut, bottom lip tucked between his teeth as soft grunts fall from his lips.
His eyes open to look down at you, entranced with every movement on your face, looking for any signs to slow down, but your legs wrap around his waist to pull him closer. He groans at the extra depth he reaches within your velvet walls. He lowers himself down, dropping teasing kisses on your lips, the some behind your ear, down the side of your neck and you were sick of his antics.
Looping your fingers under his chain you pull him close to you once again, locking your lips with his. The kiss is messy, unrestrained and dangerously intimate for a pogue and a kook to share. "Can't get enough of you," He whispers against your lips, his thrusts slowing down and dragging slower making everything feel deeper.
"Why'd you have to be such a douchebag." You pout between kisses and he chuckles, "Maybe I wouldn't have to be if you weren't such an ungrateful brat." He snaps his hips on impulse causing you to gasp.
"I'm n-not-" You were losing your train of thought and Rafe couldn't concentrate on anything more than the immense wave of pleasure that was breaking down over him.
"Not what? Huh?" You were unable to speak, the coil in your core rapidly igniting, about to snap. Rafe didn't need to hear you say it to know you were close. "Come on, baby. Give it to me. Give me all you got." His gruff tone combined with the pet name had you unravelling beneath him and he came moments later, pulling out and pumping his cum on your stomach.
He kept you warm on the towels, his larger frame wrapped up with yours. You both refused to acknowledge what had just happened when-- "Oh Shit!" You jolt up, rushing to the pale where your clothes had been displaced and you rummage through the pockets of your shorts to find the map that caused all this.
"What's wrong?" You ignore his question once you have the map in your hands, It's still folded, but soaked. You carefully opened it and the ink was partially illegible, but you could still make out some of the words.
"Is that what I think it is?" Rafe asks and you nod slowly, "The map to Kraken's Rest? It was. The rain washed it out." Rafe takes a closer look at the map, asking where you'd gotten this from.
"I.. borrowed it from the museum." You lie. "You don't have to lie to me, I know you stole this-- Did you get it off the display?" You nod, and he tosses the map carelessly into the pale.
Suddenly you remembered why you didn't get along. "What are you doing I need that." You're about to retrieve it when he speaks up. "Museums rarely put the real shit out for the public. All the authentic artifacts are kept in the Kildare vaults."
The good news puts a smile on your face before reality wipes it off, "How am I supposed to get in there unnoticed? They'll catch me before I even make it to the door."
Rafe grins as if the sequence of events has worked itself out too perfectly. "I'm on the guest list for their upcoming exhibit charity gala. The vaults are fingerprint-protected, and I know a guy who's got access. The event is pretty high-profile so I know he'll be there. I can lift his prints and pass them to you during the night so you can get to the vault..."
It sounded like a good plan but how would Rafe get prints to you-- He continues, "But if the plan is gonna work, you'll have to come with me. As my plus one." He's unable to mask the small tug on his lips at the offer and you smile.
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celeryw · 1 year ago
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good thing about this weather is if you start on non-nudist beach and you walk for an hour and a half and end up on the nude beach part there isn't anyone there bc it's 15 degrees
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whorefordean · 2 months ago
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fetch r.c
rafe cameron x reader
enjoy this thing inspired by a tiktok i just saw
summary: reader makes rafe play fetch to find her ring after a fight
unedited//not proofread
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you and rafe had been arguing for the better part of an hour. it had started when rafe refused to take the weekend off for your anniversary after promising that he was yours for the next three days.
"rafe, please. you've been on the phone for two hours," you grumble, tapping your foot impatiently as you cross your arms. rafe waves his hand dismissively as he continues to argue with one of the guys he works with.
oh, hell no.
"rafe, seriously. hang up the fucking phone. he won't leave you alone if he knows you're just gonna answer every time he calls," you say, louder this time in hopes that the guy on the phone can hear.
"not now, baby. i'm busy. goddamn," rafe grumbles between sentences. you groan, stomping towards his desk and jerking the phone out of his hand.
"listen, asshole. mr. cameron is busy with mrs. cameron for the weekend so call someone else," you speak angrily into the cellphone before hanging up and tossing it aside.
rafe watches you, fuming, and he stands up abruptly. he tries to move around you to get to his phone, most likely to call back his worker, but you grab his arm.
"i'm asking for one weekend, rafe. three fuckin days of your undivided attention," you grumble. rafe shrugs you off.
"i'm fuckin busy! stop actin like a clingy bitch!" rafe yells in frustration. you clench your jaw, shoving by him. you make your way through the house, stepping out onto the back porch that overlooks the beach.
you can hear rafe following behind you. he knows what you're about to do, and he's already grumbling about it. it's damn near routine for this exact thing to happen every time the two of you fight.
"come on. don't do this today. please," rafe says, his tone less angry and more defeated now. you slip your ring off and look directly at rafe as you launch it onto the beach.
"have fun," you say, gesturing for him to go find it.
"you can't be serious right now," rafe grunts, crossing his arms.
"don't ever talk to me like that again," you scold your husband while pointing a finger at him. he sighs and nods.
"m sorry, baby," rafe mumbles, resting his hands on your hips and pressing a kiss to your cheek. you reach up and pat his cheek.
"you should be. find my ring then we'll talk," you tell him with a smile. rafe pouts before kissing you again.
"yes ma'am," he mumbles and sets off into the sand to find your ring.
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dont-fucning-look-at-this · 2 years ago
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Sand castle
Our sand-castle-buckets jostle as we trudge down the road,
We quickly pass the old lady’s house with the pond with the toad,
It’s quaint and frilly, drenched in pastel pink with a fairy garden,
She gasps while we giggle, shock laced into her “pardon?”
And next to her house is a big blue veranda,
It belongs to a small elderly woman named Miranda,
She chases us away with a bright red shovel,
She calls us “hooligan vagabonds” who should know when to “grovel”
We pass their houses and many more,
We pass the t-shirt artists and small trinket stores,
We pass the homeless man who sleeps on the sand,
And an old hippie who’s hair never stays in his pink head band
And when we reach the end of our five minute walk,
We stare at her expanse in never ending shock,
At the beauty this blue eyed body carry’s,
That used to house brown haired women in suits with bright red cherries,
She sways side to side in never ending motion,
Child us sitting still, alone with the ocean.
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mr-jack-letterman · 3 months ago
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We need more young stan content out here.
And nah I ain't talking about 12 year old Stanley or 30 year old mullet Stan, I'm talking 17 year old, slicked back hair, acne riddled Stan pines.
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Yeah that one.
I am so happy mullet Stan is so popular because his fit slaps ngl and the angst is so potent I can't not respect it. But teenage Stan has so much potential it's driving me insane.
There is a line dividing the 17 years of relative happiness Stan had with Ford and the 10+ years of depression and crime he had on the streets, and teenage Stan uses that line as a goddamn jump rope.
Seriously, depending on how you look at it dude is either living his best life or is fighting for said life in the trenches of homelessness and poverty.
I see a lot of content regarding Stan on the streets but it only ever focuses on 30ish Stan in his later years of homelessness where he's already a hardened adult after years of dealing with this bullshit. But Stan didn't just drive away and then magically turn 30. There were times in those first few months after Stan got kicked out where he was in his car, trying to sleep, probably starving, while still being fundamentally a child.
Hell, compared to the 30ish age of mullet Stan and the 60+ year old con man he'd later become, teenage Stan is damn near a baby. There's a certain brightness about him, a sort of warm naive optimism that still clings to him because he's straight up just too young to know any better.
He's still fully convinced he's gonna make it rich and go back to his family in a few years. He still believes wholeheartedly that even if shit sucks right now, eventually everything is gonna be okay. It has to be. But it's not gonna be okay. It's not gonna be okay for a long time. And some parts are just never gonna be okay.
Seeing a happy and oblivious teenage Stan feels like watching a baby lamb walk into a slaughter house.
The next 10-something years are going to tear him apart limb from limb. In 40 years he's going to wake up on a boat during a bout of amnesia thinking he's in Columbian prison, or he's locked in the trunk of a car and about to drown, or his shoulder is on fire and his brother is gone, or it's the end of the world and everyone he ever dared to give a shit about is about to die in front of him and it's all his fault because he was too weak to stop it.
At some point, a young Stanley is going to get into his first true life or death fight. He doesn't even have to be involved with crime yet for it to happen. He's probably bruised and bleeding, with not nearly enough money to afford a doctor. He's sitting in the driver's seat of his El Diablo having a complete and utter break down because he almost died and suddenly everything is real.
Nothing is okay, absolutely nothing is going to be okay and whatever is left of his teenage innocence, naivety, and warmth dies in that car and it never comes back.
The next 10+ years are going to fundamentally change Stanley as a person and he's never going to be the same ever again. But teenage Stan doesn't know that, he's still a kid trying to sleep in the back of his car, ignoring hunger pangs and finding comfort in the half baked business ideas his mind cooks up because he doesn't understand how utterly done for he is.
12 year old Stanley I believe is so appealing because of his bright rambunctious spirit. He's still just a kid playing on the beach with his brother, but so was teenage Stan. I just wish the wholesomeness that comes with that and the subsequent hurt that follows as that spirit is broken over and over again by the world was explored more.
Thank you for coming to my Ted talk.
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fulokis · 2 years ago
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I miss being able to sit outside and look at the stars
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alicentofhightower · 6 months ago
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the cost of a dragon
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pairing: addam velaryon x wife!reader
synopsis: addam is covered in cuts and scrapes from falling and running in the forest, and now you must take care of him.
includes: fluff, episode 6 heavy spoilers, probably historically inaccurate w some parts but we’re just gonna Let That Slide, not proofread again oops
wc: 1.3k
a/n: i love him so bad. rn my top 3 tb characters are rhaenyra rhaena and addam. he’s so sweet!! i really hope we get to see a lot more of him in the next few episodes
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Addam is bewildered when he returns to your home, panting, eyes wide and mouth agape. You’ve never seen him like this, but you guess that it’s the dragon laying beside your house that’s done it.
“What’s happened?” You exclaim when you see the way he’s stumbled in, bleeding from a cut on his cheek.
“…The, the dragon,” He mumbles, locked hair spilling over his shoulders. Addam walks over to where you stand by the kitchen table, hands gently grasping your forearms, as yours do his, thumbs running over your skin to ground himself. He smells strange, like something otherworldly. Could it have been because of the beast outside your door?
“It came to me, followed me through the woods by the shore. I think I’ve claimed him. Yes, that’s what I’ve done. I must go.” Addam attempts to retract himself from your grip, but to no avail.
The pots and pans inside rattle when the silver creature lay its head on the yard outside, no doubt resting from its flight. “Please, my love,” Addam insists. “I need to go and see the queen myself. She is in need of more dragons herself, is she not? If I serve her, perhaps she will allow you and I to live at Dragonstone with her. This is our chance.”
You shake your head, apron ruffling from the beach’s wind blowing through the window. Addam has always been ambitious, has always wanted the best for you and himself. He’s fiercely loyal to you, a quality that made you want to marry him in the first place.
“Addam.” Your hands fly up to cup his cheeks, stopping him from continuing on with his tangent. “You’re covered in gashes and dirt and sand. At least let me lend you a hand.”
He softens at that, jaw seeming to unclench. Addam’s brown eyes have always been expressive, and now they seem to look at you as if you’re the sweetest person he’s ever known. “…I suppose you’re right,” He mutters, “but we must make haste.”
Finally, you let go of each other. You use one of your hands to intertwine your fingers with his, and the other to grip your skirts as you lead him to your room. It’s small and modest, mostly swallowed up by the bed you share. “Sit,” You say, almost commandingly, quickly fetching a spare piece of cloth by the tub in the main room and a bowl of water.
Addam’s eyes almost glint at the way you flounce about before him. He spreads his legs so you are able to stand between them, chin tilting up so he can make eye contact with you while you fix him up.
“Let me see.”
He holds out his right arm, palm up, covered in tiny scratches and sand from his poor attempt to escape from his new dragon. Seasmoke, he remembers. Addam squeezes your right hand lightly while the other cleans him up.
You barely manage to suppress a heavy scoff at the mess in front of you, but you dab gently at it with the towel anyway, soaked with water. “What did you do?” You ask, brows knitting together. “Did you try to run from it?”
“Yes,” He admits, face scrunching together at the fresh memory. You’ve told him to be careful of the sky-beasts constantly looming over the two of you, and he knows he’ll be scolded for trying to escape the damn thing.
You shake your head, mostly to yourself, and Addam’s shoulders deflate. “Well, what would you have done?” He asks, exasperated. “My apologies for wanting to come home to you tonight.”
You pinch his arm. “I only worry for you,” You say, voice soft. Addam and his brother, Alyn, are the only family you’ve left; you’d never known your father, and your sweet mother had died of a fever shortly after your seventeenth nameday. She hadn’t been able to last, to see you wed the man you love so dearly.
“…What will you say, when you see Queen Rhaenyra? She may think you are coming as a foe, to battle rather than service.”
Addam hisses as you brush against a particularly deep cut, eyes squeezing shut. “Sorry,” You say, and he only tips your interlaced fingers up to his lips and kisses the back of your hand.
Your husband pauses after he lets your hands back down, considering the weight of whatever his words to the Black Queen will mean. He almost thinks of it as a duty, to you and his brother. To further your ever so small family.
“I suppose the words will come to me when it happens.” He swallows harshly, eyes averted from yours, darting around like he’s telling himself to fucking think.
You’ve moved onto his other arm, now, and suddenly the odor of him has become unbearable. It’s nothing like anything you’ve smelled before.
Grimacing, you drop the washcloth and cover your nose with your hand, taking a step back. “What?” questions Addam, clearly confused. “What’s the matter?”
“Gods, you fucking stink. What is that?”
Addam laughs. He laughs, tension seeping out of him as he does. “It must be the dragon,” He claims, reaching out to grab your waist and pull you back towards him. “Don’t mind it, please.”
You’re unable to fight the smile you feel blooming, because despite the fact that your husband reeks of his new dragon sleeping outside your home, and your feet are sore from walking to the markets, only to find nothing, and your nerves are set ablaze thinking of his meeting with Rhaenyra, Addam is here. He’s here with you, holding you, safe in the comfort of your humble little home.
The feeling is fleeting, only settling in you for a moment, but you tip your head down to press a kiss to his mouth. “You must be vigilant,” You plead when you pull away, ignoring the way Addam’s lips seem to chase after yours. “And you must return to me. I do not know what I would do if I were to lose you.”
“I will be. I swear it.”
You brush away the dried blood on his cheek with the cloth, frowning. “We should leave, shouldn’t we? Fly to Essos, where we will be safe without the threat of war. That dragon is large enough to saddle three, isn’t it? We can go-“
A thumb soothingly presses against your lips, silencing you. “…If I can put the thing to use, it will strengthen us. Strengthen whatever I have with my father.”
Addam had always been desperate to get the same attention from Lord Corlys that Alyn had always seemed to receive after he’d saved the man. You’d never spoken to the Lord Velaryon yourself before, but it was hard to miss the way he’d stare at you when you visited your husband in the shipyard, almost melancholically.
“I do not care for jewels and gowns and for you to be gilded in glory, Addam,” You state, pushing his wrist away from your face. “I care for you. Should we not go now? I could find your brother.”
“No.” He shakes his head, standing from the bed, now towering over you. His fingers, callused from his seemingly never-ending work on Lord Corlys’s ship, caress your waist almost reverently.
Almost every inch of your skin heats up when Addam leans down to kiss your chest, right where your heart is. The skin is covered by the sea-blue gown you wear, a white apron tied about your waist, and you shudder at the feel of his lips on such an intimate spot.
He kisses up from your bosom to your mouth again, firm and sweet and longing. There’s no guarantee you’ll ever see him again, but some strange part of you feels that all will be well. It’s a naive thought, perhaps, but one you welcome nonetheless.
“I will come back to you,” He promises, voice rasping. “I love you.”
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