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meshlasolus · 1 month

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The Winner Takes It All

Episode 13

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Tribute(OC)!Reader

Chapter Warnings: This one's dark dark... Mentions of sexual abuse, human trafficking, murder, burning alive, mentions of blood. Mentions of suicide, suicide attempt, depression and anxiety.

Chapter Summary: One tribute remains in the arena with Mercedes... but which one?

Word Count: 3.5k

hello people yes i'm sorry for the delay I've been busy setting up a store front (I know I said I was not gonna be busy but I guess more things started happening so) but I will be getting back to posting I swear.

The dress you’re wearing is now drenched, as your hips are fully submerged. It was white and purple, stingrays printed all over the fabric. It was quite beautiful, but not so much now that it clung to your skin. The dark woolen sweater overtop wasn’t doing anything to warm you, not like that was your objective, anyway. You got deeper than last time, the water drenching your shoulders. You let your eyes close, and let your steps take you until you heard paddling behind you.

Finnick went to bed. He knows that he's done everything he can do, and that there are only two tributes left. He’s given everything he has and if it isn’t enough, he knows he can’t stand to watch it play out in front of him. Even though he believes in you, on the off chance that he’s wrong, he can’t watch you die.

So he goes to bed.

He doesn’t sleep, mind you… there’s no way in hell he could, but he locks himself away in his room, no screens, no capitol pigs to entertain, and no victors to talk to. He doesn’t want anyone’s company but yours right now. He keeps thinking about the last glimpse he had of you. The bare skin of your shoulder as you boarded the jet. It was so simple, so unimportant, and yet it burned itself into his mind. If that’s his last memory of you, he knows it will be well preserved for the rest of his life. He tried to remember the last glimpse he had of last year's tributes but he can’t for the life of him come up with any imagery. Hell, he doesn’t even remember his last glimpse of Lukas.

He sits alone past sundown, about three or four hours. He can hear no cheering in the capitol outside of his window, nor can he hear the thunderous applause from several floors below him.

He starts getting anxious when he hears the noises of anticipation growing from the balcony of the winner’s circle, and so he closes his window to make sure the whispers of the outside cannot dictate his mind… as if they had the power to, anyway. His mind was still on you, your soft skin, the way he’d seen you in the silken nightgown after your interview. You’d been so soft, so angelic. You were mercy in its purest form, and he cannot think of a better word to describe you. What was once a threat to your chances in the games would now always be on his mind as a reminder of who you truly are. Whether you come out of that arena or not, he knows the word will echo through his brain always. Mercy, Mercy, Mercy…

He had rested his head against his pillows, nearly finding rest when it all fell apart.

The silence was broken, and the thunderous applause of the outside sent him jolting into action.

He cannot explain the terrible feeling he had there and then, but he knows it can’t mean anything good.

He practically tears through the apartment to turn on the screen, and he can’t believe what’s happened.

It was later in the evening, the waters of four sloshing around your ankles as you did your best to slowly merge deeper into them. It’s been a long time, but you’re tired of the nasty looks, tired of all the bullying and name calling. Tired of never being able to get a word out without stares or laughs or your head pounding from the stress of producing a single sentence. Your mind was too fast for your mouth, and it was getting to be unbearable. You hate the way you sound, the way others perceive you. You hate yourself and the fact that you can’t be balanced or coherent.

The last time you tried this, you had every intention of coming out, but you’d needed saving, as usual. No one was here, this time, and that’s how you wanted it.

Your mother will miss you, that’s for sure. Your father will grieve you in his long days of work, and you imagine a certain young fisherman will have to find ways to pass the time without you… but you can’t stand another day in this world. This world built by the Capitol of Panem is a cruel enough place without adding a speech impediment and crushing anxiety into the mix.

You step deeper and deeper, and the water is cold this time of night. It sends a shiver up your spine that makes you wrap your arms around yourself. You do your best to keep the tears at bay. They don’t really do anything but make this harder. Your body is already reaping the nasty consequences of your decision, you don’t need to be racking sobs on top of it.

You start shaking in fear and adrenaline when the water reaches your knees, something that shouldn’t make even the smallest child in four tremble. You contemplate letting your weight take you out, falling over would let nature take its course but for some reason you are insistent upon doing it this way. You have to secure the outcome, and sinking this shallow won’t do you any favors.

You let your eyes close, and let your steps take you until you heard paddling behind you.

“Mercedes! What the hell are you doing?”

And again to your rescue came the boy you would miss most.

He got close enough to wrap his arms around you, and you threw yourself into him, eyes bawling a river of tears that could make the tide rise in this ocean. He saved you, he always would. He’d been there since the beginning, and he’d be there till the end. If ever there was something to happen to him, you weren’t sure what you would do.

Without him, you would need another to protect you. Not because you needed saving from others, but often because you needed saving from yourself.

He sat on the beach with you, helping you calm down, using his jacket he’d left on the sands to help dry you off and keep you warm. He’d walk you back to your home, but he figured that was the last place you’d want to be on account of giving an explanation.

“What were you trying to do?” He asked, but he didn’t need to. He’d already known by the slow and steady pacing you’d held that you didn’t plan on stopping. He knew you were trying to get rid of your problems once and for all.

You stayed silent, a few hiccups and tears resurfacing at his question. He knew, and you knew… you had wanted to die.

“Why wouldn’t you talk to me?” Was his next question, and this time you felt you owed him an answer, but he wasn’t done. “If I hadn’t been here-”

“I’m s-so sorry, Lukas.”

He hugged you tighter into his side, the pain in his own chest increasing when he heard how hurt you still were through your voice.

“Don’t be sorry. Just please, talk to me the next time you get an idea like that. Promise me you will,” he knew it was juvenile, but he held his pinky up anyways, just like when you both were children and made him use the meaningless motion.

You took it, locking fingers but not letting go yet. You let your hands sink to the sand the way they were intertwined, and kept your head rested on his shoulder.

“If someone had found you washed up tomorrow, I don’t know what I would do… I don’t think I’d ever get over it if you died.”

You felt terrible, not just because it was a foolish mistake on a depressive whim, but because you would have affected not only his life, but the lives of your family on account of a really bad day.

“You can’t die, Mercedes… I’m sorry, but I won’t let you.”

You jolted awake, your head slamming back against the tree you were sleeping by. You didn’t have time to think, or to process a thing, because the sound of the twig snapping in the distance put you on guard.

Your knife was in your hand, and you had to be prepared to face either Estelle or Brock. Both outcomes would be easily accounted for. You had no intention of losing anymore. There was a venom in your veins, a fiery need for revenge. It consumed you.

The note that Finnick sent you wasn’t just telling you to kill this tribute, it was telling you something more.

Show no Mercy. Don’t be merciful, but also, don’t be you. Forget yourself, and become something you swore you wouldn’t. You would have just given up and died had it been a different situation. Had your best friend’s blood not been staining your body.

Out from the shadows of the humid forest, and into the light of your torch flame, Estelle stepped forward, her knife in her hands, and a wicked look on her face.

“I would never have expected it to be us,” She said, her mouth twitching into a smirk. What kind of game was this to her?

The hunger games are a terrible thing for all involved, but some tributes… they like it. The way they get to kill and be praised for it. She’s one of them.

“You k-killed Brock?”

She scoffed, rolling her eyes as if annoyed you would even question it.

“When it comes down to three tributes, you can’t keep allies. I knew I could kill you, but it was easier to kill him first. He wasn’t expecting to die before you, so it was pretty easy. Stabbed him in the back, literally.”

You twisted your face in disgust. You would give anything for Lukas to be alive right now, and here she is, bragging shamelessly about killing her ally.

“You s-should have waited.”

She looked at you with surprise, taking more steps towards you while flipping her knife in her hand.

“We’ll see.”

She stepped at you immediately with a swing of her weapon, but you had been on pins and needles, dodging the attack and trying to get the upper hand. You weren’t skilled in combat. You didn’t know what you were doing. She caught you off guard, pinning you to the tree and trying to dig her knife into your skull.

The advantage you did have was your strength. You were able to push her arm back, keeping the knife a good distance away while being able to slash yours back over her shoulder, the blood splattering your face and your hair. She yelped in pain, but was back on you, chasing you the few steps you took away from the tree.

“Get over here,” she sneered, her energy becoming more vapid and ruthless as she started swinging aimlessly with all the strength she had. You were able to get out of the entanglement and carefully lead her back towards the tree, but on the other side. You purposely fell out of the way and over the gathering of rocks you’d formed, landing on your back. Looking up at her, your knife had been lost in the dirt, and she had every right to believe she had the upper hand.

“I’ve worked my entire life for this, and killing you,” she pointed her knife at you, her steps slowly coming forward until she was right where you wanted her. “Is going to be the most satisfying thing I’ll ever do.”

“I’m n-not afraid to d-die.”

She scoffed, stepping forward one more time, losing her balance on the hidden tripwire. You quickly shuffled back when she fell forward, watching as your woven rope trap fell from the tree canopy above. The rocks attached to the four corners weighed her down, and she’d lost sight of her knife.

“I’ve n-never been afraid to die… I’m afraid t-to live.”

You stood up next to the tree, taking in your hands the lit torch you’d set up earlier. You came before her once more, a pitying look on your face, but it wasn’t for her.

“I guess I’ll have to f-face my fears.”

And with that, you dropped the torch onto the rope, watching it catch faster than a candle wick.

A mound of giant flames was seen, and an abundance of screams and painful cries were heard, but you didn’t wince. There was no compassion in you for the one who took away from you what you had held so dear. There was nothing you wanted anymore.

You fell to your knees upon hearing the cannon, and curled into yourself with your hands over your head to try and dull the sound. You’ll be traumatized by cannonfire for the rest of your life, you know it. Even hearing it now, and feeling the fire still ablaze before you, you cannot feel peace.

Your enemy is defeated, the person who took everything from you is gone, but it didn’t

satisfy you. You still felt empty, and cold, despite the fire, and despite whom it consumed.

You only stood back up when you heard the canopy of the trees part over your head, a carrier lowering itself to take you away. It sounded crazy, and you know that mentally you shouldn’t even be thinking this, but you don’t want to leave this arena. You don’t want to leave Lukas here without you, and you don’t want to leave the place you last saw him alive. You have no intention of getting on the craft until it lands, and several men begin to pull and prod at you until you’ve boarded.

You take one last glance at the rainforest behind you before the door raises and closes. You’ll never see it again. Never see Lukas again. Never see any of your allies again. Twenty-four tributes went in, and you came out… and you hate everything about that.

His heart was pounding, his footsteps racing. People spoke to him as he walked by, but he didn’t hear any of it. They were all muted in his sense of urgency. It was real, but he had to see for himself, touch for himself.

It was quick and all at once, the relief, the anxiety, and a new rush of sorrowful emotions. A cycle of the three, rotating constantly and turning his stomach over each time. He sees the back of your shoulder and arm, the only thing visible from behind the separation curtain between each medical bed. He never understood why there were so many. There was always only one winner. It’s not like this was a hospital.

His feet still carried him, the walkway, though crowded with a team of experienced staff, were no match for him. He barreled through, earning little protest from anyone. He supposed it was a perk of being a Capitol darling, no one could ever tell him no in a setting like this.

Your back faced him. Your hair, once braided in a unique and athletic style by Dalton, had been completely destroyed, strands sticking out, some covered in a dried red substance he didn’t care to think about right now. It had been all over you.

“Mercedes,” his whispered word reached your ears, and you turned your head. Bloodshot eyes gazed back into his, and the entire world stopped for you.

He’s right there. The thought you’d been holding onto in the arena. The mentor who had taken such good care of you both in and out of the games. The only one you wanted to see right now.

Due to his stillness, you almost thought him to be a figment of your imagination, a culmination of your dwindling sanity that somehow managed to form an actual manifestation… but then he stepped forward, once, twice, three times.

He was careful, treating you like a scared animal. He’s seen what people can be like when they come back from the games. Sometimes they can’t tell that they’re no longer in them. He didn’t want to freak you out, or even make you feel the slightest bit uneasy.

“Finnick,” your eyes welled up with tears for the millionth time, and you tried your best not to let them fall now. This was a happy moment, don’t cry. Be happy. You survived the hunger games. It wasn’t even supposed to be you.

He came close, not yet touching what he didn't know he could. You weren’t stiff by any means, but you just seemed so monotonous. So still and weak, and still scared. He took the moment to look at you more. Blood was smeared on your face, your neck, your arms. There were few places it wasn’t residing.

He couldn’t help but reach up with one hand, his fingertips brushing over your shoulder. It had been the last thing he saw of you, and now the first. He hoped you weren’t so damaged from how you’d been when he saw you last. You had so much you needed to tell him, he’d remembered. He remembered because it was his hope for you to come back.

“Are you hurt?” He knew he should have added a word, but it slipped his brain. Physically, are you hurt physically?

You shook your head, understanding what he meant. You didn’t want to have to ask, but you wanted his comfort, wanted his embrace. You just survived the worst tragedy someone of your age could experience, and yet, were too scared to ask for a simple hug.

“W-will you-” you stopped short, the question hiding behind your teeth. You took a shallow breath and met his eyes. “Will you h-hold me?”

“Yes.”

His arms didn't hesitate to move of their own accord. They swarmed around your bare shoulders, smudging the dried blood around and making it feel crusty beneath his long sleeve shirt. He could care less. This shirt could never be worn again and yet he would sacrifice every shirt he had if it meant keeping you here and now, in his embrace. It comforted you, it helped you find peace.

You hadn’t been able to think or speak of anything else since you left that arena. He was the happy thought on the carrier ride, and in the transport truck, and now even here in the medical ward. He was the sustainability that you craved to go on. You still wished it had been you. Someone else should be sitting here and thinking about going home. It should be Rodey or Lukas or Lyra. The people who saved you from harm and protected you when all else were out to kill you. You didn't blame those kids, either. They were just playing by the rules, doing what they were told.

You didn't even want to go home. You didn't know what you would do when you got there. You didn't know if you could look your mother in the eye after what you had done. Your father would be ashamed of you. Your little brother would have to grow up with your reputation hanging over his head. You're a murderer, and a nasty one at that.

The worst part about Estelle's death was that you didn't regret it. You were happy to stand there and kill her, completely enthused to watch her body be consumed in flames while she flailed about, burning to a crisp. It gave you a sense of pride, that justice had been done for your allies, the ones who should have won.

She's the only thing about the games you don't regret. You should have stopped the venom from killing Lyra, you should have shoved off Rodey when he went to take the hit for you, and you should have pulled Lukas into the water. Those were the biggest regrets.

Here and now, with everything that was at stake, you shouldn't be here. You should still be in the arena, or wherever they lay the tributes to rest after the games are over.

Finnick felt you tense in his arms a few times, and he knew it was probably due to your thoughts. He remembers how badly they tortured him when he came home. His guilt was riding on his shoulders for weeks, all hidden under a stunning smile, of course. It was all he could do to mask how horribly he really felt. It wasn't long after that he’d been asked to start his favors for Snow.

He'd been thinking about that all of last night. When he didn't know if you were going to live or die, he thought about all the things that could happen in either scenario. If you won, you'd be dealt the cards that he was. If you lost, you could escape it in peace. If you won, he'd be able to hold you just like he's doing now, but if you lost, he'd have to suffer the loss of you. He'd have thought about you every time he looked at a new promising tribute. He'd have to think about the promise he made himself and how he'd not only failed to honor it, but failed to save you.

He shook it all out of his head. You were here, and you were alive. His sweet Mercy.

“I'm gonna take care of you. I promise.”

tags(open): @thepassionatereader @i-voluntears @secretsicanthideanymore @mystargirl-interlude @c4ttheart @lilibrn @emma-andrea1 @marvelescvpe

#finnick imagine #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair thg #finnick odair #thg finnick #finnick x reader #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x oc #the hunger games #sam claflin x reader #sam claflin #katniss everdeen #catching fire

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authormeat · 7 months

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URBAN LEGEND

Eyeless Jack Plot: The city has had a spike in urban legends coming true. Eyeless Jack is behind most of them. To think the targets are not the suburbia homes but apartments instead. Word Count: 1.4k

Warning: Description of Gore, Break-in.

Reader discretion is advised.

Urban Legends are in themselves myths. They are usually made as a warning to children who live in cities or in remote places where it's just not safe. To think one would be so close to home. The bustling city has been put into a close crisis, so close in fact they have initiated a curfew.

People have reported waking up in their bathrooms with organs missing. Kidneys, for the most part. Some have reported their gallbladder or horrifically; a lung. However, that case has been closed since yesterday. Deceased.

Standing outside your emergency fire exit the city below is eerily silent. Several people are out as well. Smoking, playing music, enjoying the gap of free time. Others have boarded up their apartments. Everything rolls in the blue hue of the night.

Clouds block the sky above, which would be drowned by the light pollution anyways, and only the small chatter keeps company. A beer is in your hand. The buzz warms your body from the cold air. In truth it's freaky, especially as many friends and co-workers have had second hand knowledge of some of the reports.

'It was in my apartment complex.' Mark Heber, missing appendix.

'I knew them from down the street.' Katherine Rook, missing kidney.

'She was such a sweet lady. She ran that ma and paw shop on 14th street.' Evelyn Sharon, missing kidney.

'He lived in your apartment complex.' Martin Grant, missing lung. 'Right across from your apartment.'

There were a few others. Targets of random chance, but at least never in the same place twice. Sipping the last of the cheap beer made little difference to the spike of paranoia. As the night grew darker and the people slowly retreated in for curfew the silent city stilled further. Lights are a little dimmer. Everything was blue.

Crawling back through and closing it with a soft click the T.V. helped little with how dark it was in the apartment. Shuffling over you click on a tall lamp to bring in some yellow to the drowning blue. How little it helps to comfort the anxiety. Truthfully, these murders disturb you more than any of the other Urban Legends being fulfilled. The imagery of awaking with organs missing. The numb pain which breaks through the nerves. Indescribable.

You busied the rest of your night with watching a Late Night Show. At least until your head lulled forward and the live audience's laughter drowned out the fear. Yet, even as you slept it never crossed your mind; you never did lock that window.

So, as the beast made the stalk across alleyways. Up the many stairs of fire exits and digging their gloved fingers under the window lip, only did they find one this blue night. The pull is slow, mumbling of a T.V. being the cue of any noise.

The draft flows in, snapping you awake. Looking at the window your senses kick into high gear. The first thing you grabbed was the remote to the T.V. which cut off the joke mid-sentence. Wind brushing through, whispering in your ears of danger. The apartment is no longer safe and you can recognize this.

You check your pockets for your phone scanning the living room. The space isn't big and the lamp had been shut off, causing your adjusted eyes to be blinded by the dial keyboard.

You fail to notice the massive figure looming in the darkness of your open bedroom door.

The blue mask has blended in with the surrounding hues.

Your alert senses fail to hear the hushed breath below the howling wind.

Pressing the dial the phone rings. You take careful footsteps toward the kitchen, which holds the front door just beyond a tiny hall. The safer option is to circle the kitchen for a weapon and run out into the hall to alert neighbors.

"911, what's your emergency?"

You check the bedroom doorway. No one is standing there. Even as you squint.

"I think someone is in my apartment." You whisper.

The voice on the other end becomes soft. "Where are you? Are you safe?" Scanning the small kitchen, nothing is hiding in the dark.

"No." You whisper your apartment complex address, as clear as one could get while you pull a knife from the block on the counter.

"Are you able to get out of the apartment? Do you know who's in there with you?"

"I live alone." The island separates you from the living room, and what lurks on the other side. "I'm heading for the front door."

"Stay on the line we're sending over to the closest dispatch who can help you, which floor are you on?"

"The 8th." The hush of hopelessness across your voice enveloped the fear.

Circling the kitchen you finally make it to the front door. Clacking sounds of sliding locks and a click from the front door knob had you so close to freedom.

Until the force of something slamming into your back.

The phone tumbles from your hand but the knife is gripped tight. Struggling to swing the weapon, a strong grip grabs your arm and wrist. Twisting it so far you're forced to let go.

A scream rips into the air for a moment until another force covers it.

"Who knew playing with food would be such a hassle." The bellowing low voice rumbles through the air. You struggle.

"I'm quite hungry, taking one organ is becoming inefficient." You struggle harder. The hand wraps tighter around your arm and face. Muffled screaming unable to reach through the thick leather of the beast's glove.

"Suppose explaining to you would be purposeless, but meat always tastes better when it’s doused in fear." The creature looms over. Pushing you against the blazing surface behind. It's too hot. The holes of the mask are dark. Where are their eyes?

"Because our time will be short I'll be binging on your organs." Breath becomes quicker, your mind is muddy from the hand covering your mouth and nose. "All of them, or at least the ones I choose to rip from your body."

The police would find the front door wide open. Blood covering the doorknob. A broken phone and abandoned knife just behind the entrance. The bloody path leads them into the bathroom.

The visceral horror of the victim's body is nothing short of brutal. The blood was encapsulated in their bathtub. For the most part.

The arms and wrists snapped and shattered. Legs ripped from their sockets and dislocated, bones twisted inside. The rib cage ripped open and muscle was missing. They would find it later having been thrown against the wall. Their throat slashed and torn, bitten as though from some sort of wild animal was on it.

Several organs have chunks missing, no parts found. Dental review of different sized teeth, canines, incisors, and molars. Humans, wolves, bears, mountain lion teeth, and many other animals. All shapes and kinds. Whatever took them wasn't human. The bloodbath of it all was contrasted with a strange, handwritten note. Left neatly folded by the edge of the tub with no blood.

"Life is a privilege for the food I choose. Cold snacks are bland in contrast to the blazing heat of adrenaline. Do remember to check the locks in your homes, even a simple window may let me inside. I was trying to play peacefully, taking only what I craved but when the cold was too much and the snack too tedious, a meal was in order. A buffet of choice, a king's meal. I am full."

There were no reports from neighbors of any sort of struggle or sound, neither down stairs nor sides. There was no footage from the halls or outdoors. There were no fingerprints to match nor DNA to save. Nothing but the blood which pooled around a clogged drain. Nothing but the victims.

The 911 call is recorded only till a loud slam is heard, then a short crunch of what would be concluded the phone being completely crushed.

The city feared the Urban Legend of finding themselves in a bath of ice. But now even more so. As it seemed the organ collector wanted more than just a donation.

#creepypasta #creepypasta fanfic #eyeless jack #meat.fanfic

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veryhardymemes · 9 months

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Noah Kahan Sentence Starters Stick Season (We’ll Be Here Forever)

Content Warning For: Suicidal ideations/imagery, mentions of alcohol/drugs, depression/melancholia, mentions of COVID

Northern Attitude:

How you been? Settled down?

How’re your kids?

Where are you?

What does it mean?

Forgive my northern attitude

Stick Season:

I am stuck between my anger and the blame that I can't face

Memories are something even smoking weed does not replace

Doc told me to travel but there's COVID on the planes

I love Vermont, but it's the season of the sticks

I saw your mom, she forgot that I existed

I just like to play the victim

I thought that if I piled something good on all my bad that I could cancel out the darkness I inherited from dad

I’m no longer funny

My other half was you

I hope this pain’s just passing through

I doubt it

All My Love:

How have things been?

Well, now that you mention it

I'm saying too much but you know how it gets out here

No winter coat could keep out all the cold of your atmosphere

You got all my love

If you need me dear, I'm the same as I was

You burrowed in under my skin

What I'd give to have you out from me

I just hope that your scars heal

I swear I was scared to death

She Calls Me Back:

Oh, there was heaven in your eyes

Everything’s alright when she calls me back

Look at me and don't you lie

For bullshit I do not have time

Does it bite at your edges?

Do you lie awake restless?

Why am I so obsessive?

This town's the same as you left it

The radio is taunting me

I don't get much sleep most nights

I'm seeing you in every dream

If only I could wake you up

If only I could fall asleep

I'll love you when the oceans dry

I'll love you when the rivers freeze

I was too afraid of living life in your footsteps

Come Over:

I’m in the business of losing your interest

Don't you know there's a coffin buried under the garden?

You won't have to guess who they're speaking about

I'm in the process of clearing out cobwebs

I was taking the wrong meds

It feels good to be sad

I know that it ain’t much

I know that it ain’t cool

You don’t have to tell the other kids at school

Someday I’m gonna be somebody people want

New Perspective:

Silence is making me nostalgic

We were kids but that don't make this less hard

If I could fly I doubt I'd even do it

You made Ohio feel just like Central Park

You and all of your new perspective now

Everywhere, Everything:

It's been a long year

Would we survive in a horror movie?

We trust everyone we meet

I wanna love you 'till we're food for the worms to eat

Keep my hand in yours

Orange Juice:

Honey, come over

We know you got sober

There's orange juice in the kitchen

It’s yours if you want it

We're just glad you could visit

The last time I drank I was face down passed out there on your lawn

Are we all just crows to you now?

Are we all just pulling you down?

You didn't put those bones in the ground

Strawberry Wine:

Darling speak to me

Remember telling me that you thought you were cursed?

I'm in love with every song you've ever heard

If I could lose you I would

We buried your bones in plywood

I said love is fast asleep on a dirt road with your head on my shoulder

For you, darling, for you

No thing defines a man like love that makes him soft and sentimental like a stranger in the park

For a few moments, I see you

Growing Sideways:

So I took my medication

We argued about Jesus

I said I’m cured

I’m still angry at my parents

But it’s a start

I ignore things

At the end of the day I know there are worse ways to stay alive

I'm terrified that I might never have met me

I guess I’ll drive

So I forgot my medication

Now I’m suffering in style

Why is pain so damn impatient?

It's better to die numb than feel at all

Halloween:

I'm sailing away to a place I'm afraid of

I'm drinking my days with the coastal longshoreman

I drink 'till I drown and I smoke 'till I'm burning

I worry for you

You worry for me

I'm leaving this town and I'm changing my address

I know that you'll come if you want

There's a murder of crows in the low light off Boston

Homesick:

Two months since you got back

Are you bored yet?

The weather ain’t been bad

If you’re into masochistic bullshit

This place is such great motivation for anyone tryna move

Time moves so damn slow

I swear I feel my organs failing

I would leave if only I could find a reason

I'm mean because I grew up in New England

I got dreams but I can't make myself believe them

I’m homesick

Still:

I don’t want to say goodbye

You find love that lasts a while 'till you lose the reasons

You miss something that you can't place but you can't deny it

It's like I'm still here with you

It's a bottomless hole I've found out here with a trace of no one

The View Between Villages:

For a minute the world seems so simple

I’m seventeen again

I am not scared of death

I’ve got dreams again

Your Needs, My Needs:

Oh well, who was I?

Who was I to watch you wilt?

You ain't gotta tell me what it means

You'll always be a flower on my skin

I promise to be there this time

I'm naming the stars in the sky after you

Dial Drunk:

I'm remembering I promised to forget you now

I ain't proud of all the punches that I've thrown in the name of someone I no longer know

I don't like that when they threw me in the car

I gave your name as my emergency phone call

Even the cops thought you were wrong for hanging up

I’d die for you

The dial tone is all I have

I beg you, sir, just let me call

Let's wait I swear she'll call me back

Son, are you a danger to yourself?

Son, why do you do this to yourself?

Paul Revere:

This place had a heartbeat in its day

The boys are drunk

But it just ain't that simple, it never was

One day I'm gonna cut it clear

I’m not from around here

I'll leave before the road crew's out

Folks just disappear

If I could leave, I would've already left

No Complaints:

Thought I had something

That's the same as having something

I'd get mad at nothing

Blame my dad for something

I'd pull no punches

Thought I was raised better

Hope the skin heals where the pain enters

I set a time, then I showed up

Now the weight of the world ain't so bad

I filled the hole in my head with prescription medication

Who am I to complain?

And now the pain's different

I can finally eat and I can fall asleep

Call Your Mom:

Oh, you’re spiraling again

Don't let this darkness fool you

All lights turned off can be turned on

I’ll drive all night

I’ll call your mom

If you could see yourself like this, you'd have never tried it

Oh dear, don't be discouraged

I've been exactly where you are

Throw a punch, fall in love, give yourself a reason

Don't wanna drive another mile wondering if you're breathing

Won’t you stay with me?

You’re Gonna Go Far:

This is normal conversation, babe, it's all fine

The college kids are getting so young, ain't they?

I got tired of the frat boys with the brights on

"This is good land" or at least it was

Say whatever you feel, be wherever you are

We're overdue for a revival

We spent so long just getting by

You told me you would make a difference

#memes #rp meme #roleplay meme #inbox meme #inbox memes #sentence starter #roleplay starters #roleplay sentence meme #rp sentence meme #sentence starter meme #lyric sentence starters #lyric sentence starter #noah kahan sentence starters #noah kahan rp memes

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aveegrex · 2 years

Text

VIRGIN MARY MADE ME SIN, FED ME MILK AND BRUISED ME PLENTY

Brother Choso, oh, how come an infernal broke your faith so easily? this is part 2, here is part 1

genre: smut pairing: succubus! reader x monk! choso word count: 2,3k cw: sacrilege, sin, corruption kink, heavy religious kink, heavy religious imagery (tainted and unholy), food play, dom/sub dynamics (although fluid), teasing, mocking, oral (f!receiving), impact play, vaginal penetration (f!receiving), nipple sucking, too many biblical allusions, dry-humping, exhibitionism (i think?), masturbation, hints at choso's religious demise, cumming inside, unprotected sex, biting, scratching (the good stuff)

author's note: as stated in the description to the 1st part, it's a piece dedicated to @jin-supremacy01.

Choso lunges forward, unstoppable and unthinking. Pupils dilated, a deep growl rumbling from within him, he pushes you on your back, pinning your flushed body down. “Whore” he hisses, chest heaving under the sweat-soaked robe. “Dirty fiend, how dare you-”

But instead of finishing his sentence, he finishes his innocence, lustful mouth latching onto your hardened nipple, calloused hands groping your flesh shamelessly. He’s starving, a deranged beast finally sinking its fangs into succulent flesh.

Finally, he’s broken. He’s broken out of his own psyche’s confinement, forgoing all prayers, all psalms and sermons he’s been fed for years. Those never really satisfied him, truth be told. Not like you do now, hot mellow body so responsive to his touch, so sensitive to the drag of his teeth. He’s slurping the milk off your chest, lips digging into your collarbones, his persistent digits traveling down to hoist the apron up and spread your plump thighs apart.

His whole body’s burning, blood thumping in his temples, stifling all thoughts he might have had before. Now he feasts, drawing more moans out of you with his slender fingers tweaking your nipple as if it could supply him with more milk.

“Damned slut” he curses, parting from you to throw off his clothing. “That’s how you wanted it, huh? That’s how you wanted me?”

He towers over you, and your eyes blow wide at his frame. He’s perfect, marble skin carved to athletic ideals, dark maroon nipples hard of chilly air. Pale like a morning sky, he’d be a muse of thousands in the artistic realm, dark damp locks framing his sculpted face and bringing out the sharp features. What a waste, you think to yourself, ogling at Choso’s godlike physique and demonic glimmer in his raging eyes. What a waste to keep such beauty hidden in this prudent prison, away from pleasures it could give and get to many.

A sharp slap to your thigh pulls you to reality, and you notice his hand gripping your flesh. “You spoiled me, imp” he whispers, a cold blazing gaze making you squirm in anticipation. “Now you’re gonna pay”.

Just a little longer, you’ll give him just a bit more to satiate his power hunger. You’ve got enough time to show him how it really is, but for now he can indulge a bit longer into the illusion. You’ve teased him enough, and he deserved his fix of control.

“Silent now?” another harsh slap stings your thigh and you gasp, batting your lashes in faux shyness. “Fine by me”.

And Choso dives between your thighs, hungry mouth latching to your folds, hot tongue lapping at your excessive slick. He groans at the taste, his eyes rolling before screwing shut. He’s strong, muscles bulging as he squeezes your waist to pull you closer.

Lewd slurping sounds fill the cell, and you dig your nails into his soft hair, tugging on his strands to lock him in place and feed him what he’s been craving since last night. He’s inexperienced, but his dedication repents for it, tongue slivering right over your clit at unyielding pace.

Your whole body buzzes, and Choso’s intoxicating, hazing your mind with how eager he is to satiate his appetite. Your cunt flutters at his ministrations, the feel of virgin lips enveloping your core boiling you in need. He’s not your first, far from it, but this moment, this second when they yield to their desires is always as good as new, sending you to an infernal thrill.

“Brother Choso, oh-” your sighs only rile him up further and your head falls back in bliss. You feel your might replenishing, force growing tenfold as he sucks on your clit, making your thighs clamp tighter around his head. That’s your fix, right there. Religious prude as pretty as Narcissus himself, so prideful in his humility before now losing every part of himself for your mere taste.

“Oh, god!” escapes your lips as his tongue does a particularly delightful flick, and you grip his hair tighter, fucking his face, smearing your essence all over his cheeks.

Choso pulls away, his chin dripping with your arousal, a drunken heinous sight lingering on your features. “Don’t you foul creature dare” he spits, seething. “Don’t you dare pronounce God’s name or-”

“Or what?” you sit up, thighs parted shamelessly before his face, bare doused cunt making him salivate. Your nails dig into his scalp to delicious pain, and you tug on his locks, tilting his head up. “What, monk?” you lace his occupation with disdain, a vicious sneer tugging at your lips. “You’re gonna pray me away? Cross me out? Splash some holy water down my tits to make me flee?”

He trembles, jaw clenched, eyes shooting daggers your way. “I’ve seen you try, and all for nothing, wasn’t it?”

His face blooms in burgundy, hands easing their grip on your body, and he slouches, seconds away from defeat. Time for the last nail to go in.

“Or would you just fuck me harder, huh?” you part your thighs wider, bucking hips up in sinful sway. “Ram that dick inside so madly your little abbot would think someone’s applauding his pathetic sermons?”

Hatred burns through him with your every word, but he’s still so close to your core, to that inebriating cunt that’s driving him more insane with every passing second. Cotton rustles as you move closer, pecking his lips with your lower ones. “Would you slurp me up so hard I’d wish to stay in your mouth forever? Is that so?” you coo, head tilted mockingly. “That would only make me call for your Lord more, you know?”

“You heinous bit-”

“Do it” he stills at that, clenched fists coming undone. “Fuck me like you wished to all these nights and days, brother. Make me scream His name in vain, and join me in that fault”.

Choso’s dick twitches, granite hard and neglected since he’s opened the damn door. But it’s not your proposition it’s responding to, no. It’s the tone. It’s the command you have now over him, the one he’d never felt before but searched for so eagerly in Christ. It’s this supernatural diktat that has him melting under your touch and gaze, giving him purpose that he so uselessly craved in church.

He shifts in his place on the floor, crouched and small under your firm hand. Only now he realizes how naked he is, how his bruised knees ache against the hardwood surface. He’s shy now, something different from his prior aggression sparkling to life. Wide eyes brimming with tears, he looks up at you with a silent plea, and you know at this moment how fake he was when praying to his God.

A hand lands on his chin, released hair falling down to the marked up shoulders. You urge him closer, leaning to his face to plant a slow attentive kiss to his raw lips. Choso shudders, obedient moans eaten up by you, and you cup his cheeks, pulling him on the bed.

“Lay down, my dear” your whisper pins him to the sheets, so gentle and loving it almost makes him cry. “Just like that, breathe out. Watch me”

He’s responsive, parted lips fanned over with hot shallow breaths. Choso complies, eyes trained on your soft smile as you straddle him, the apron stained and crinkled, your full breasts glistening with his spit. He exhales sharply as your bare folds brush along his length, slow and chary, introducing him to something sweeter, something bigger than what he’s had in mind before.

Swaying your thighs again, you let out a sinful exhale, clit buzzing as his tip brushes against it with just the right pressure.

“Hold my hand, okay?” you interlace your fingers with his, and it’s borderline painful how gentle you are to him. His eyes roll back, a grip around your palm tightening as he feels you sink down his dick, wet heat enveloping him tightly.

“Very well, so good” your words crawl under his skin, eating away at his lovelorn heart. The air is warmer now, welcoming and soft, and Choso feels his tears trickle down his face, mixing with the remnants of your slick. The sky is crying with him, soft undemanding rain tapping at thin glass, and he gasps as candles light up on their own with the snap of your wrist.

A breath sticks to his throat, his eyes blowing wide in awe - you’re glowing. The lights behind you grace your hair with a halo, and Choso deems himself delirious, rock hard cock buried inside a holy apparition’s cunt, this time though he’s not so sure if you’ve come up or down.

Your free hand creeps up to his face, two digits under his chin urging him up, and he complies to your nurture. “You’ve missed some earlier, my dear” you muse, eyes darting down to a few droplets of milk drying up beside your nipple. “Go on, it shouldn’t go to waste”

He nods shyly, eyes trained on your breasts, and his head spins, lips wrapping up around your hardened bud. The slow rhythm of your hips, the heavenly grip of your tight walls around his length, and your soft flesh sitting so comfortably in his mouth, Choso’s delirious of it all, mind going blank at the religious ecstasy.

You rise and fall atop of him, plush thighs splaying on his own taut ones. The drag of him along your walls fogs your mind, entrancing you with carnal buzz it shoots across your core.

No prayer has ever had him whining in such bliss, no sermon has ever come across so cathartic, at no confession has he ever been so vulnerable as now with you, a lustful demon fucking him this well.

Your hips drop harder down his length and he moans, suckling on your tits, fingers digging into the softness of your ass. Your hand cups his head, luring him closer into you, and he feels his tears smearing across your ribs, his short huffs in sync with your pace.

“Choso, ah-” you cry as his cock brushes against the sensitive spot inside you. The crave for more churning in your stomach, you pick up the pace, squelching sounds filling up his cell. Up and down, up and down, faster, rougher, you fuck yourself on him, bathing in his moans and cries, muffled by your swelling tit.

Your hand lands behind you on his lower thigh for leverage and he mewls, dick twitching inside you. Head tilted back in wonder, you try to understand the reason, and…

Oh...

He’s broken like that, huh?

Bewitched, you graze his bruise again, and his grip on your ass tightens, hips bucking up to meet your halfway. “M-more” vibrates against your nipple, his lips traveling up to your neck. “Please, ag-again, more…”

And you do, fingers digging into his wounds, your pace now fast and rough against him. He’s crying, calloused hands holding you in iron grip, loud wanton moans sending jolts of electricity right to your clit.

“G-god, god, ah-... GOD!” deep desperate wails echoing through the cell, threatening to warn the rest of brethren about their kin’s demise. Your own throat hurts, gasps and whines scratchy and painful, yet falling uncontrollably as you hammer him into the mattress, bruising his legs further.

“God, Choso-” he thrusts up into you and you crash your lips against his, inhuman lust clouding your mind. Quicker, quicker, you practically hump him, bed creaking and scratching the floor of sheer intensity. It’s carnal, deranged, your teeth digging into his lips, tongues swirling against one another, the familiar but much bigger knot tightening inside you.

Choso’s going feral, all remnants of prudence lying long forgotten with his pathetic clothes on a cold floor as you to fuck one another in craze, sweating bodies clinging to each other in heist for bliss.

“Like that, like that, please ah-, like that, god, God, oh, yo-” his daze is clear on his face, strands clinging to the damp forehead, long black hair messy from your ministrations. You’re not much better yourself, the unrelenting pace aching through your body but the upcoming ecstasy wipes it out, having you bounce atop of him like a deranged whore.

Choso grips you waist tighter, falling to his back, heels digging into the sheets, and the angle makes you lose it, humping him primally with your tits in his face, whining and crying of how good it all feels.

“Ruined me, f-fuck…” he’s crying, open mouth gliding over your neck and shoulders, lips and tongue latching on whatever he can catch. His pace is brutal, and you both drown in overwhelming lust, pushing each other further into lustful pleasure.

“Ruined me, foul, ah- ” sweet moans drip from his lips for you to catch, your core spasming with nearing climax as you slot your lips together, slurping whatever foolish babble he’s about to mutter.

He’s frantic, chanting God’s name for his sin is now sealed, and you scream, the knot unraveling inside, orgasm shuddering your body. You clamp so tight he follows suit, unending ropes of cum shooting inside you, his limbs spasming tight before the final release.

“Oh, God…” the name gurgles in his throat, body now splayed under yours starlike. You fall atop of him, shaky hands clutching on his shoulders, your hollow cunt twitching to release the copious seed he’s planted in.

“Amen” a soft kiss to his pec, you whisper, eyelids heavy as you both bathe in each other and post-orgasmic haze.

“Amen” he echoes, his large hand pulling you closer into him, nose digging into your hair.

“Don’t dissipate when I wake up… please” your dozy mind slow to register his mumbling. “I have yet years of innocence to blow away with you, demon”.

MDNI, reblogs and comments are welcome, wish everyone to sin so sweetly in the upcoming month of infernalia

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen au #jjk smut #jjk au #jjk fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen choso #jujutsu kaisen choso kamo #jjk choso kamo #jjk choso #choso x reader #choso x female reader #choso x f!reader #choso x you #choso x y/n #choso kamo smut #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo x f!reader #choso kamo x you

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thepodcasthoard · 3 months

Text

How to Start a Podcast

Part 1

The second article Sydney kindly gave me is How to Start a Podcast by buzzsprout. Buzzsprout is also a hosting site, which you need when you start a podcast, so they have to know their stuff (according to the article, since 2009 they've helped three hundred thousand podcasts launch, which is impressive).

Buzzsprout breaks the process into ten actionable steps.

Develop a concept.

Define goals

Pick a theme/topic (they provide a whopping seventy-five in this article linked)

Find a niche

Name it (they have provided this article for further reading)

2. Choose a format

I didn't think about this before I read this article, but there are different ways to present podcasts- the article mentions interview, cohosted, scripted non-fiction, news, educational, and scripted fiction (and I will provide audio drama help as I conduct my own research and get information from podcasters about it).

The article goes over the 'optimal' podcast episode length, with some statistics, but the only thing that seems to be important they put in the first sentence: "Make your episodes as long as they need to be and no longer."

They also talk about an episode release schedule, with more stats.

3. Set up recording equipment

Of course they talk about microphones, including another article all about that aspect of podcasting, but apparently there are different types of microphones. I never knew that. They go somewhat in-depth about the different kinds, so I'll leave the technical reading to you.

4. Choose software

The article also talks about different software, from recording to editing. They give a few different options in the article, with links to each. I'm not sure if they get commissions based on how many people click through, so I'll leave you to go there to give them some love.

5. Record your first episode.

The article further breaks the process into smaller steps.

A) Write an outline (with further reading that includes templates)

B) Pick your recording room wisely

Before Sydney's post, I didn't know that sound travels different off of hard and soft surfaces, though I guess in retrospect I should have figured (echos in canyons, for example). I didn't realize it would make a big difference, but I guess it does.

C) Connect your equipment and set up your software

This is important- make sure you hit 'record' and everything's plugged in, folks.

D) Microphone technique

If you're going to speak into a microphone, learn to do it right.

E) Test different recording styles

Test for quality.

6. Edit

They provide an article for further reading. In the main article, they break it into broad steps.

A) Make sure the intro and outro are engaging

Hook the listener right away.

B) Edit for content, then everything else.

Start with big cuts, then move smaller.

C) Fade between tracks

Apparently, cutting audio can sometimes make clicks and pops in the recording. Who knew?

D) Create a punch list

I guess this is a to-do list.

Then when all that's done, you export it! They throw a bit of technical jargon at you (what the heck is an ID3 tag?) but thankfully, it seems to be fairly simple with this podcasting host site. I'm not sponsored by them, it just seems easy enough for beginners.

7. Create podcast artwork.

They also include five tips for that.

A) Visually communicate the subject

B) Design for a variety of sizes

C) Don't use too many words or fonts

D) Avoid 'podcast imagery' (microphones, for example)

E) Keep your brand consistent

They provide a few sites for people to create artwork, so that's cool.

8. Set up podcast hosting

To be honest, this confused the Hell out of me. But there are a few videos about it they linked at the end of the step, so feel free to read the full article and watch them.

9. Get listed in podcast directories

More technical stuff, but I guess that you need the last step- hosting- to actually get onto Spotify or Apple podcasts or any other site/app.

10. Launch and grow

The article goes over two ways to launch- grand and soft- and a few other things like imposter syndrome. It talks about seven marketing tips.

A) Tell friends and family

B) Create a buzzsprout ad

C) Post episodes on social media

D) Join groups and forums

E) Cross-promote with other podcasters

F) Overcast ads

G) Create a call to action

The article also recommends celebrating, and I'm always down for a celebration. Don't be embarrassed it's about your own achievements, or feel like it's needlessly self-congratulatory or self-centered. It seems like a ton of work, so give yourself some credit!

#podcast help #beginner podcaster

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lycanlovingvampyre · 1 year

Text

MAG 121 Relisten

Activity on my first listen: baking something with apples

This is the last episode with my favorite ambiance track :´) We haven't heard it at all in S3. All in all, the ambiance music in S3 got a lot less melodic than the one in S1 and S2. Although, S2 already used the less melodic tracks as well.

Oh right, the Patreon thanks are starting now! I haven't given all of them a listen, I think I'll do it here.

To add something about Jon's coma: I read in a post yesterday that someone wondered how they even found out Jon was still alive. I'm kind of guessing there is something like Section 31 in medical as well. People who are somewhat trained for "weird" cases, even though they don't understand them. To fix that plot hole I'd say Elias called in, telling them this particular person is still alive even though he's neither breathing nor has a heartbeat. And considering, that Jon is dreaming, I'd headcanon his closed eyes rapidly moving.

OLIVER: "Um. Hello, Jon. Do you… mind if I call you Jon? I, I mean, you don’t actually know me. It’s just, well. 'Archivist.' It’s so formal, isn’t it?" Reasons why I love Oliver Banks, exhibition #658 xD No seriously, I think Oliver Banks is one of the most interesting Avatars out there and I'd say he's my favorite of all those Avatars we only meet tangentially. Death is such a complicated subject in itself and Oliver makes it look so... neutral. I mean, the End in itself appears relatively inactive, not having a Ritual and all. Anyway, Oliver calls Jon by his (human) name, is even unsure if he's allowed to do that, since they don’t "actually" know each other. But he respects that this is, who Jon is. Who he wishes to remain, regardless of which choice he’ll make. Oliver thinks of this although he has kind of lost touch with his name(s), since he'll just take any identity which works best for him at the moment.

OLIVER: "And I do kind of know you…? Haven’t had much choice, really. Dreams are like that, you know." I really, really wonder what that means. Did he see Jon's life hanging by a thread. Did he see nothing at all because he’s in a place where the End can’t touch him? Or does he already see a root piercing his heart? Does Jon actually have any agency in this? (He has been denied to die once before, MAG 101...)

OLIVER: "No matter how lucid you think they are, there’s always that part that just drags you along." Meta-comment about said agency?

OLIVER: "That’s how it works, right? Give you a terror; give you a dream?" Oliver in his dreams being like "Alright, I'm done checking out how person A, B and C will die, time for my Point Nemo date with Jon..."

Hmm, is there a soft crackling sound in the background?

"So. My name is Oliver Banks. In my other statements, I used the name Antonio Blake" When I was first listening I still could recall the general premise of MAG 11 quite well, including the name of the statement giver. So I already had my suspicions after all this talk about dreams, especially when talking about Gertrude. And then he says this sentence! I love those "I knew it!" moments^^

"I knew exactly what I had to do. He didn’t look anything like me, not really" Not really! Iirc, this season will have tons of not reallys. So I'll start counting! S4 Not Really #1

"There were a couple of marine biologists on board, a meteorologist, an engineer, someone who called herself a “macro-ecologist” – though at times, she looked almost as out of her depth as I did." Fake it till you make it!

“This too shall pass.” If I had a nickel for every podcast with a troubled, with eye imagery associated Eldritch character named Jo(h)n who owns a mysterious lighter and had a life altering experience while in a coma I'd have 2 nickels. Which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice...

"The rest of the crew didn’t seem to notice, walking through the immense, grasping tendrils like they weren’t there at all" Wasn't there something about "TMA will not have tentacles!"? xD

"But I barely got the first word out before the falling satellite debris hit the ship at 200 miles an hour, killing us instantly." So, did Oliver just walk on the ocean floor back to London?

OLIVER: "Honestly, I’m still not exactly sure why I’m here. But you know better than anyone how the spiders can get into your head. Easier to just do what she asks." More of the Web shenanigans to make sure Jon stays on the right path...

OLIVER: "Oh, I, I’m a friend. Of Jon’s." GEORGIE: "Are you, now." OLIVER: "Uh, y-yes." I mean, Oliver seemed to be a kind of hesitant type there at the beginning of the episode. But this seems like he's a bit intimidated? Considering this is no-fear-because-touched-by-the-End Georgie, it would fit.

OLIVER: “…have I upset you, miss –” GEORGIE: “No, you just remind me of someone.” OLIVER: “Ahhh, I’m sorry! Were they –” GEORGIE: “Evil. Yes.” Hm, another throwback to MAG 101,“Is a thing evil when it simply obeys its own nature?” What makes someone evil? It sounds like Georgie is implying that she considers Oliver evil as well? But if we going by that definition, Jon would be evil as well.. I think Oliver and Jon are quite similar. Neither of them asked for this but here they are.

GEORGIE: [sigh] "Sorry about that, but you really don’t need friends like tha…" Arg, this makes me so angry again! This constant patronizing... Georgie knew this was an End avatar, I mean she said he reminded her of someone evil - the corpse who took her fear. What was she thinking Oliver was doing here? That he had come and finally claim Jon? And she shooed him away because she didn't want that? Because she's not too happy about him waking up either, so was that the reason she wanted Oliver nowhere near Jon? Status quo can’t remain forever. So what's it gonna be? A dead human friend? Or an alive something-else friend?

@a-mag-a-day

#a-mag-a-day #mag 121 #tma #tma spoilers

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macfrog · 7 months

Note

I apologize in advance - im so sorry this is gonna be so fucking long, but i just read the latest chapter of clm and i am in awe of your writing! This just might be one of the best things i have ever read!! So so talented! Your words in this chapter are so so gut-wrenchingly beautiful and poetic, i reread a lot of them a few times just to try to capture the feelings they evoked in me. Here are some of my favourite sentences from this chapter, followed by my commentary aka praise for your extraordinary brain and magical writing pen.

"Your dimpled blush blurs back into checkboxes and scrawled handwriting. You’re gone again. He’s in a white office, and the gentle lapping of the water on the pool’s edge fades into the headache noise of a fan humming, and he feels the warmth of your gaze on his skin turn into the cold, harsh spotlight glare of Lois’s eyes on him." WOW!! In the words of the one and only t swift: its giving movie, its giving cinematography. I can see this exact scene in my head like im watching a great fucking movie! These words combined together to form these sentences are obviously laced with some sort of magic because when i tell you i am not well i mean i am INSANE over this piece of A-R-T.

NEXT-

"It’s just: this time, your dad’s at your heels like a bloodhound. A little less sharp, maybe. Blind as a fucking bat, sure. But he can smell something’s up. And he’s circling it, nose to the ground, drawing nearer and nearer to the pair of you with each step." How? How do you do it? Tell us, please. Your way with words combined with how fantastically skilled your use of language is makes me write a ridiculously long message in your inbox screaming about all of it. All of it.

"Her voice is like ice down the back of his shirt. He stares at the machine, red light blinking like a rag to a bull. He could walk over to it and smash the ever-loving fuck out of it with his fists until it’s dust on his coffee table. Until it shuts the fuck up, stops interfering with his fucking business.

And then he thinks about Lois, and her cream blouse, and her red nails, and her big, blue eyes, and her soft drawl and everything about her that is so entirely opposite to everything about you.

And how much – despite how nice and friendly, or funny and good-natured she is – how much he hates her right now, and how much he fucking loves you." Its the imagery for me. Joel bby i love you and i get it. I love how you combined his aggressive thoughts and big, red feelings with something so tender, so beautiful, so soft. Ugh the duality of man. The power of a writer.

"He’s good at pushing feelings down, good at turning them away from the sunlight like faded pebbles. But this is different. It’s a different kind of hurt.

It’s unresolved, it’s an open wound. It’s you. And it’s every time he hears REO Speedwagon, every time he pulls a flannel over his shoulders and catches the scent of your perfume on it, every time he’s flicking through the TV and catches a flash of a hospital setting, it’s a pair of hands deep inside the wound, pulling it a little wider.

It aches. It stings and it aches and it winds.

And then he turns the pebbles around. Back to the shade. Over and over and fucking over." You have created such strong visuals throughout this whole chapter and i dont know if this was hard for you to write, but i feel so proud of you! I dont know how you felt during the writing process of this chapter, if it was tiring, or aggravating, or infuriating, but i can just imagine the sheer amount of joy and catharsis i would get from putting a period at the end of the last sentence here. The way you compared joel pushing down and hiding his feelings, something so vulnerable, to the pebbles metaphor, something so firm, and hard, and solid, is astounding to me. But its a contrast as much as it is the same thing. Especially because those feelings are as solid as pebbles. Especially because they can bruise you and scrape you up like pebbles can. And if you step on them, it only hurts you. I love your writing.

Also, sarah is so sweet in this chapter and i loved her reaction to seeing joel having a hard time. So so sweet.

"He’s staring at the end of your bed. Thinking about you under him, gripping onto his shirt, his hand between your legs. The very first time. And every other fucking time since then. Which one was the threshold? Who pushed who?" 📣POETRY

"As he passes the stairs, he pauses. Leans on one foot, head tilted to listen out for any sound of life. Any fucking sound – the creak of a floorboard, the squeak of a door handle. Anything to keep him here. Anything." MY HEART IS BROKEN. THIS BROKE ME. I AM GONE. I AM NO MORE. Put these words under "cause of death".

TL;DR: you. are. a. genius. Thank you for this chapter, thank you for this series, it is one of my favourites, and to quote you: i have no idea what youre laced with, but you got me.

(pls keep in mind that im writing this while running on no sleep, i hope you can understand everything, english is not my first language so i hope i expressed myself clearly and was articulate enough)

i have sat on this ask for 2 days now and i keep coming back to read over it and cry a little more each time. i cannot begin to tell u how appreciative i am of this 🥺🧡

there are few feelings that hit as fucking hard as receiving messages like this and reading how much someone has connected with something you've written...so thank you thank you thank you. it means the world and more. i don't even know what to say

#i have no idea what you’re laced with but you got me #SCREAMS that’s literally one of my favorite lines from clm #chats w max #perfectlyfreeanalyst #fic luv

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blxckchxrrybxby · 1 year

Text

Encounter At The Bar

summary: Venable arrives at The Hotel Cortez as a last-minute resort for lodging while on her business trip. As she drowns her stress in strong whiskey at the lounge’s bar, a strange blonde catches her eye… and ear.

pairing: Sally McKenna x Wilhemina Venable

warning(s): explicit language, mention of drug use, idk

a/n: there may be another part.

“What are you? A junkie?” The blatant inquiry was followed by a soft scoff and a swig of whiskey trickling warmly down Venable’s throat.

Of course, by now, Sally was used to the harsh words of drunken strangers and delighted in knowing someone found pleasure in her presence; despite their cruel intentions to shame her for what she found pleasureful. She took her time licking her lips as she succumb to the view of the woman doused in lilac who sat poise across the bar with one leg crossed over the other and a wooden cane by her side. Her fiery ponytail spilled across her left shoulder, which sat a tad higher than its right counterpart. However, Sally blamed this on poor posture and didn’t give it a thought more. Taking a minute more to indulge herself in the imagery of this stranger, Sally noticed the woman’s partially gloved hand hovering over her phone as her fingers repeatedly pressed at the screen.

Sparing a moment to glance in the ragged woman’s direction, Venable’s gaze moved to find something more appealing and worthy of her time. She sat in the Blue Parrot Lounge long before Sally had decided to join. Her Sunday was supposed to be filled with HR workshops and endless seminars—but the weather had turned sour—resulting in all scheduled events being canceled. Now, she was glued to the bar, using cheap liquor to wash away her disappointment and irritation.

The lights in the lounge were dimmed more than usual during this time of night and not too many bodies littered the bar. Wilhemina was thankful for that. However, what she wasn’t thankful for was her suitor not answering her calls—nor the frizzy-haired stranger eyeing her from across the bar. They hadn’t exchanged as much as a few sentences before Sally’s careless tongue brought out the bitch in the already malicious woman. Liz shot numerous glares at the doe-eyed addict for disrupting the redhead’s peace. It was clear that whatever she was going through had to be bad for her to be on her fifth drink.

“You would know, wouldn’t you?” Sally retorted. A mischievous glint twinkled in her dark eyes as she placed her forearms against the cool bar top. Her left hand held the empty glass that was filled to the brim 2 times prior and tapped her nails against it; marveling at the clinking sound it made.

“I beg your pardon?” The older woman subtly—yet noticeably—slurred, completely taken aback. Her scrutiny was now fully fixed on Sally, who was feeling as if she could dissolve into a puddle at that same moment.

Out of impulse, she stumbled as she moved a few barstools closer; allowing her cheetah print coat to open enough to reveal the purple mini-dress underneath. This was something that immediately caught the other woman’s attention, but not for long. Slowly dragging the hollow glass across the slab of wood and smirking, Sally spoke. “I know who you are,” wiggling her eyebrows in a teasing manner.

Humming in response; not incredibly moved by Sally’s statement, Venable rolled her eyes. If only she had a quarter for every time someone claimed to have known her, she’d be many quarters richer. Pulling her from her thoughts, the addict leaned in invading her personal space as Venable cringed from the lack thereof. The tequila coating Sally’s tongue invaded her senses; reminding the redhead that her choice of dark was best. The last time she had light, she was doubled over her desk vomiting into the only bin her assistant could find at 6am. After that, she swore off alcohol… and also made her assistant sign an NDA.

“Don’t you work at Kin-”

Venable cleared her throat, immediately interrupting the blonde. For all she knew, the addict could have been lying. However, she wouldn’t dare risk it if she weren’t. Glancing over at Liz and the flux of drunks going to and from the bar, Venable tried her best to make sure the conversation was out of range. After steering clear of anyone knowing her business, her peeved gaze met Sally’s once again.

Yet, the impish woman remained unbothered.

“How could you possibly know of me?” Venable questioned in a lower voice while simultaneously using the end of her cane to push the blonde out of her personal space.

Sally tilted her head; letting the cane push her back while smiling naughtily, “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“I wouldn’t.” Venable matched. “In fact, I’d much rather you remove yourself altogether.”

Sally simply shrugged, ignoring the older woman, and held up her phone; showing Jeff and Mutt’s Twitter page. “We’re mutuals.”

The redhead squinted at the illuminated screen before taking a moment to tip her glass. Watching in confusion, Sally furrowed her eyebrows as Venable allowed a few drops of whiskey to trickle onto the napkin it sat on. Slipping her delicate fingers under it, Wilhemina used the damp napkin to wipe the screen of Sally’s phone, causing the addict’s face to drop.

“FYI, I don’t do drugs off of my phone.” Sally huffed.

Shrugging, Wilhemina glided the pad of her fingertip across the screen, “Can never be too sure.” Inspecting the page further, a video of Jeff snorting coke off of his keyboard’s spacebar was pinned to the top with the caption: Mondays. Am I right?

Venable instantly remembered that day. It was the same day her bosses walked around the halls eating pizza with powder underneath their noses. It was also a Wednesday. She knew because she was the one forced to place the order and wondered what kind of fools ordered four pizzas on a Wednesday during breakfast.

PizzaHut wanted to know too.

Although Venable shouldn’t have been stunned by the number of idiots retweeting the 20-second loop, what truly horrified her was that she was partaking in a conversation with one of them. Without a care in the world, she downed the rest of the liquor before her. It seemed as if the epitome of her misery was working for those two idiots.

Now, holding up the empty glass, she made eye contact with Liz, “Another.”

Listening to the older woman’s rasp, a grin spread across Sally’s face as the tip of her tongue teasingly glided across her teeth. She didn’t care how obvious she was, she couldn’t help but to take in all of the grandeur that was this woman. Settling on a bar stool left of the redhead, her eyes fell down to momentarily stare at the empty glass before her. The craving for nicotine entered her veins (something far less harmful than what had already been placed in the weakening vessels). Tapping her fingertips against the glass again, she directed her attention back to Venable. “Well?”

Arching a questioning eyebrow, the businesswoman focused back on her own phone. “Well?”

“This proved my point,” Sally stated, filling with aggravation. What was so intriguing about that phone that she couldn’t keep her attention away?

Bleakly, Venable responded. “The only point proven is that you are indeed a junkie.” She paused, reaching forward to grab the drink Liz slid towards her. “The difference, however, is that I now have less respect for you than before.”

“Less?” Sally queried, slightly bewildered, “You had zero respect for me to begin with-“

“And now, we’re in the negatives.”

“Who do you think you are?” Sally scoffed.

Venable smirked internally from the blonde’s outburst, “Must I answer that? I thought you knew of me just as I knew of you.”

Leaning forward on her forearms, Sally sneered. “You know nothing about me.”

Trailing a manicured fingernail across the slab while holding eye contact, Wilhemina hummed, “I know quite enough. The evidence is written all over you.”

“Well, that’s where you’re wrong, Venny.” Sally stated, causing the older woman to tense up. She didn’t remember telling the blonde her name. “We all have an addiction to something.” She stated plainly.

“You must have me mistaken for the streetwalker in room 69.” Taking a moment to reflect, she squinted at Sally. “And don’t you ever call me ‘Venny’.”

Sally snickered, “You walk in here like there’s a stick up your ass. Your extensions probably hold more secrets than that damned suitcase you’ve been carrying around-“

“Extensions?” Wilhemina scoffed, shaking off the cloud of frustration this woman dragged along, “My hair is purer than the heroin you shoot up.”

Grabbing her cane, she stood; sauntering until the beak of her raven’s head pressed into the back of the blonde. Leaning over Sally, she stretched out her arm and grasped her glass, pulling it devilishly slow. All Sally could focus on was the overwhelming smell of the woman’s perfume and the sound the bottom of the glass made as it treaded across an uneven surface. That was until the whiskey was aligned before her. Removing her hand, simply to place it on the blonde’s shoulder, Venable whispered near her ear, taking a moment to hover in her space, “This should help take the edge off.”

#sally mckenna #sally mckenna x wilhemina venable #sally x wilhemina #hotel cortez #ahs #sarah paulson

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hellskitchenswhore · 2 years

Text

#love (Volume 2)

A Brush With The Law by @coalix - You're a cop in Hell's Kitchen and dating Matt Murdock

Wanting by @coalix - You're the secretary for Nelson & Murdock, then Elektra shows up. #angst, #idiots in love, #idiots to lovers

"I can't lose you, too." by @leossmoonn - You're hurt in the hospital, but it's all going to be okay

Dancing by @briefcasejuice

Formed Within A Storm by @briefcasejuice - #idiots in love

Let Me by @softlikesilkchiffon - matt patches up vigilante!reader

Halo Not Included by @undiscovered-horizon

Pieces of You by @undiscovered-horizon

Irked by @hart269 - Matt is annoyed as a guy hits on you

bruises by @goldustwomun - You comfort matt after a long night, #love and #stitches

"Calmed" by @mydevilofhellskitchen - You couldn't ever sleep whilst he was out

Home With You by @cellophaine - Matts a supportive boyfriend through your shitty job

"You're more than a fling." by @pedrito-friskito

Daybed by @cellophaine - married life with Matt

"I would do anything for you" by @pedrito-friskito - friends to lovers, savior!matt

kid, jackass, love & beauty, faith, imagine by @literaila - Reader is Frank Castle's younger sibling

Tracking the Devil by @mattmurdocksscars - enhanced!Reader saves Matt when he's chained up by the Punisher, splash of #angst

A Normal Day by @cellophaine - A small party for Matt's birthday

Matt x Introverted!Fem!Reader by @peterman-spideyparker

Genesis by @itwasthereaminuteago - Matt's loved you from the beginning, #religious imagery

Quiet Love by @murdocks-devil - quiet domestic moments on a sleepy rainy night

Loving You Is Easy by @peterman-spideyparker - soft and tender love with a #proposal thrown in

So This is Love by @coalix - Matt asks you to move in, #fluff

"I love you." by @mvtthewmurdvck - Those 3 words slip during an argument

reciprocum by @murdocks-devil - Matt Murdock is a giver

Catch The Wind by @kaylaxwrites - You've known Matt since childhood and he pushes you away to protect you. Meanwhile, you develop a relationship with the Devil of Hell's Kitchen that puts you in danger, #angst and #torture

aere perennius by @saintmurd0ck - matt's love for you can only be described as aere perennius, or more lasting than bronze, #poetry

neogenesis by @murdock-and-the-sea - a #stitches fic, #poetry

the hand that strikes by @saintmurd0ck - an ode to Matt's hands, #poetry

For as long as you'd let me by @fulmis - You and Matt have been ignoring your feelings until you start dating someone else

right where you left me by @goldustwomun - You meet Matt once a year, every year. #smut

A Full Sentence by @letterfromvienna - Matt doesn't know what he did to deserve you, a little #angst

Dating Foggy's introverted sister by @marvelswh0re

Familiar Senses by @leahsficemporium - Matt could find you anywhere in Hell's Kitchen

Lighter by @abbyhaslongshorts - Sunday mornings in church before and after Matt

Both Sides by @mvtthewmurdvck - Matt finds you stitching yourself up in his bathroom and it prompts a confession

perhaps love by @alrighty-matty - 5 times Matt didn't realize he was in love with you and 1 time he did, #fluff

Pretty Eyes by @writings-of-a-hufflepuff - In the two years you've known him, you've never seen Matt's eyes, #idiots in love

I deserve you, and you deserve me by @ktheartsdaredevil - Matt comes home after a night on patrol, #fluff

Matt x lawyer!reader by @mattmurdockspainkink - You make your case for Matt to stay home tonight

how you get the girl by @rosemaremembrance - Matt realizes he made a mistake letting you go, #the reveal, #smut

upstairs by @mvtthewmurdvck - matt walks you home from the bar

"Can I have this dance?" by @saintmurd0ck - a small moment

On the Other Side by @eiressofinspirationwrites - matt's benched and you come home with serious wounds, #vigilante!reader

please don't be mad by @chvoswxtch - Matt's involvement with Elektra has you questioning everything w/ a big fight and lots of #angst and #smut

Starlight by @fandom-imagines-stories - You're coping with trauma and where you fit in matt's life, #angst

Nights, to Morning Kisses by @mvtthewmurdvck - figuring out what you are together after stitching him up

"If I'm lucky." by @grippingbeskar - You boss asks you out for a drink

Stitched Up by @silversweetpea - You make a jacket for the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, so much #fluff

Don't Blame Me by @mattmurdockspainkink - Matt's had a rough week and he tries not to take it out on you... until he does; #angst, #smut, #comfort, #depressed!matt

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realmermaid333 · 2 months

Note

Out of the blue! What are your favorite 3 sentences you have ever written (or written in the last day or so?)🌈🪓

hello there you!! ;) this is going to be more like paragraphs i struggle to pic just sentences. i haven't written much the last few days, so this will be just my most recent favs.

"The breeze kisses Lucy Gray and Coriolanus’s damp skin as they lay beneath it, their cheeks pressed against a soft blanket on a bed of grass. It tousles her hair, and cools his scalp. The suns out and shining, but its beams aren’t hot today. Just gentle warmth that slowly dries them from the lake water. Today is Sunday, and tomorrow Coriolanus will return to the barracks, no longer in Lucy Gray’s embrace. It will be another week before he will return to her, and the Covey, and the lake. Their lake."

i like this whole paragraph because it has nice imagery so i am proud of it :) it is from my most recent fic which is coriolanus snow/lucy gray - "when i'm pure like a dove, when i've learned how to love"

"The scenes that flashed through her mind would haunt her for the next day or so, but she didn’t need to worry about that yet. For now, she felt safe and warm. The feeling of Peeta’s sturdy arms, and the sound of his heartbeat never failed to make Katniss forget the bad things."

this is from "night terror" which is linked in my pinned post on my profile :) i just love my everlark and really liked this paragraph.

“You’ve made incorrect assumptions about me, Galpin. I am no Saint, I am no “child of god”. I am a priestess. A witch. And not one of good nature.” She scratched her nails down his back hard enough to leave red marks. “If you wanted to confess your sins, to be made pure again, you should have knocked on the doors of a church. Not my cabin. But a part of me thinks you knew this. That you wanted to be corrupted. I think you wanted to fall farther into sin. To give into your carnal desires.”

i feel like this paragraph truly went so hard. it is from chapter 7 of "say yes to heaven" teehee.

my AO3 is here if y'all are interested.

#fanfic writer #asks #the hunger games fanfic #wyler fanfic #everlark fic #snowbaird fic

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satans-helper · 7 months

Text

Reaching for Stardust - Part VII

Read Looking For Space here // Playlists here // Read on Wattpad

Word Count: ~4100

Warnings: none, really, unless you count conflict & slight sexual content

I'm very nervous to post this chapter, honestly (well, I've been nervous to post this entire fic lol). Writing conflict is something I often find challenging, particularly in fan fiction when it doesn't take much to accidentally yank the reader out of the story. But it's been a while since these two got into some emotional hard times and I hope you'll appreciate how it will go <3

---

On our third and final day in Savannah, we were walking through the cool morning air with iced coffees in hand somewhat aimlessly. I felt perfectly at ease among the charming townhouses and apartments, pale moss hanging from the giant oak trees, squares of historical plaques and statues that lined the streets and the soft blue sky. But there was a silent beckoning to return home, too. That wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling when a trip was winding down–as much as I didn’t want to leave, I also was ready to return to familiarity and guaranteed comfort. Nevertheless, I wasn’t wishing for our last day and night to fly by–quite the opposite. I wanted it to move as slowly as the breeze and the clouds above.

Josh’s hand was in mine as we walked and when half my coffee was gone, I felt more of an urgency in his steps and his grasp as we headed east back to Forsyth Park. He was on the quieter side again though I was as well, feeling content to be lost in the vivid imagery that I was trying to commit to eternal memory when I wasn’t able to snap a million pictures. We breezed past the fountain and the trees and artists selling their own colorful prints and rogue musicians, then crossed the street and I looked up from watching a little lizard scuttle into some bushes to see an impressive white building, as old and as full of character as everything else in the city, in front of me.

“SCAD, right?” I remarked, flipping through the blips of Google that I could remember and tying that information to the architecture.

“Yeah, SCAD. Bad acronym, I think,” Josh said, holding my hand tighter as we walked around the perimeter.

“It’s small.” I took note of how busy it appeared to be despite its modest size–people were bustling in and out of the doors we were walking past in that end-of-the-semester rush that I didn’t miss in the slightest. I looked at Josh then, curious: “Why are we here?”

“Let’s keep walking,” Josh said, carrying me onward with a swing of his arm and more speed to his steps. “Although, there is something I need to talk to you about.”

Josh had never begun a sentence with those words–they sounded foreign and awkward coming from him, too formal and weirdly foreboding. The strange moment made my heart skip a beat and I felt the same sort of dread and fear I’d felt before our flight return, something dangerous telling me to get ready, but I wasn’t prepared for whatever was coming. I waited for Josh to continue, not willing–and not feeling particularly able–to speak first.

He led us away from the school. “There’s one additional reason why I chose Savannah for this trip in addition to genuinely wanting to explore this new place with the love of my life,” Josh began, and instead of his touch keeping me from tensing up, my body began to grow tight and stiff while we walked. He paused his words until we reached a park bench, but he didn’t let me hand go as we sat down.

Now I was dying to know. “What?”

Josh looked up, his perfect profile aligned with the sky. “I had a job interview with SCAD right before I booked this trip, so I thought we should come down here and see the city for ourselves. See if it would be the right fit.” He turned to me, placing my hand on his knee. “I’m so, so sorry for not telling you when all of this was happening, darling. I sent out the application sort of on a whim–I didn’t truly expect them to reach out. But when they did, it felt like a chance I had to take.”

I was trying to put the missing pieces together in my mind, body recoiling in horror as all the inklings, suspicions and fears I’d felt prior to the trip became one tangled web. “So you–you wanted us to come here to see if we’d want to live here?”

“Only possibly. If we don’t–”

“Wait, wait,” I interrupted and took my hand away. “Did you get the job?”

Josh looked crushed; I was sure that I felt worse. “I’m not sure yet.”

There were so many other things I wanted to ask–did he really want to move? He really wanted to live in Savannah? Was he really ready to leave all our friends and family? Was this the whole reason he’d wanted to wait to buy a house? Had he been planning on a new job and relocation for months? But the only thing I could bring myself to voice was, “I really wish you’d told me.”

“I know. I know, mama, I’m so sorry,” Josh said, intuitive enough to not touch me at all though I was certain he was fighting every instinct to do just that. “We’ve never had any secrets. I’m not sure I can explain why I kept these secrets and apologizing doesn’t make up for it but I really am sorry. My mind was going too quickly throughout all of this and I let it all get away from me–from you. That wasn’t fair. But I love you and we’re not going to do anything until we decide together.”

I looked down at the sidewalk, into the dirt and grass popping up through a jagged crack. “It seems like you already made a few decisions on your own.” I wished that I were angry about all of it–anger seemed like it would be easier to deal with. Instead, I just felt hurt. Josh had never betrayed my trust like this before. The secret trip being motivated by nothing more than love and whimsy was tainted. The worst thing of all was how I was made to learn that he was more than capable of keeping secrets from me for longer than I ever thought would have been possible.

“I know it seems that way. I decided to apply and I decided to go ahead with the interview. Anything else–that’s both of us.” Josh sighed; I still wasn’t looking at him. “I realized very quickly that I need to talk things through with you, always. I should have done that from the beginning. I can't make these decisions on my own. I hope you believe that.”

I could feel tears welling in my eyes and I wanted to just walk off, walk away from all this and pretend it wasn’t happening, while another part of me wanted to reach out in desperation, to grab hold of everything he was and everything we were before it turned to dust. “Is that why you keep pushing for us to get married?” I dared to ask. That question scared the hell out of me. “Because you wanted to like, lock it down so I couldn’t–”

Josh reached for my hand and I let him take it. “No, no, that’s not why. I’ve wanted to marry you since we first met. That will always be the truth.”

I smiled a little despite the tears, but the curving of my lips made the tears start to fall. I laughed, feeling stupid, still feeling hurt, feeling lost and wanting Josh to make me feel secure again. “I know. I wanna marry you, too.” I squeezed his hand in mine and wiped tears away with the other before Josh could do it for me. “But you won’t buy a house in Michigan–do you really want to move to Savannah?”

“I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t. I would go anywhere with you, including back home and staying there if that’s what you want.”

“But that’s not what you want.”

“I want us to be together. Wherever that is isn’t nearly as important as just that–the two of us.” Then, Josh inched closer and reached up to gently wipe tears from my cheeks and I helplessly, instinctively laughed again.

“I like it here, Josh,” I told him. “I really do. But I can’t imagine living here. I like where we live now. I like being close to all our people. And it doesn’t matter where Jake, Danny and Sam go–they’ll always come home and that's our home.”

Josh nodded. “I know. That’s true.” He scrubbed one hand over his face. “I know you know I try not to let it bother me, but the truth is, I miss my brothers just the same. When the sadness about missing them–and the way things were–wouldn’t stop, I thought, well, why can’t we have our own whole new, little adventure, too? What’s stopping us from leaving?”

I sniffled. “Instead of moving, we really could just be touring groupies. Or roadies. Whatever.” I was trying to make light of it all, not having expected that sort of confession from Josh. I could read him, sure, and anyone who knew him in the slightest would be able to discern he missed the three guys who lit up his world, but still. Hearing it after months and months of watching him try to just zip through those feelings was intense and I knew how he felt too deeply. I added, “I miss them too, Josh. So much.”

I was glad that Josh laughed. “We need a home base. We need a place they can visit us at, stay with us. Wreak havoc. Get on the neighbor’s bad sides.” He leaned into me playfully. “It doesn’t have to be here.”

I looked around at where “here” was–the new little adventure that I still couldn’t envision as a potential home. “Well, the interview must have been good if we’re already here.”

“I’d say it did go well. But like I said–and this is the truth–they haven’t followed up with an offer or denial yet,” Josh assured me, laying his tear-stained hand atop mine. “I felt like I dug a deeper and deeper hole for myself. I really did want to go away with you–take another vacation and have fun–but then I felt like really being here was the only way I could find the words.” He turned my hand over and laced our fingers together. “You just say the word, darling, and we won’t do it. Offer or not.”

“It’d be a huge change. Do you not want to have any real winter anymore?” I asked, wondering if that was a draw. The idea of warm, easy winter months was appealing, I couldn’t deny that. But perpetually, I wasn’t so sure about that, no matter how good it might be. Some of my most favorite moments between us had actually happened in swirling snow.

“Oh, on the contrary,” Josh said, smiling for the first time since we’d begun this conversation. “I was thinking about a winter wedding.”

“Really?” That perked me up. “Or just to align with this new job?”

Josh smirked and put his arm around me. “They might tell me to fuck off for all I know. But really, yes–a winter wedding. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”

Even with the delightful times throughout the cold months, we both eventually struggled through the long, dreary, dark winters of the Midwest–maybe a wedding full of sparkling white, silver and blue would help us see it through for the years to come. I could see it.

“It would be,” I agreed, wiping away the last remnants of tears. Had this sequence of events happened even a year ago, I was sure my instinct to run away and retreat would have reared its head with full force; now though, the security and unwavering love I felt from and for Josh was enough to keep me there, sitting on that park bench with his hand in mine and my confused, sore heart already on its way to healing.

“I should have married you a long time ago,” I said, meaning it with every fiber of my being. What had I ever been waiting for? What was there ever to be afraid of? The secret Josh had harbored began to feel less and less consequential–he was always going to be by my side, and vice versa, no matter where the universe took us. And I knew whatever we decided would be what we decided.

Josh smiled and traced my knuckles with his thumb. “Yes, you should have and I should have told you about this job the second I saw the posting for it. Lessons learned. Better late than never, hmm?”

I leaned back, turning my face toward the sky, and sighed. “Sure, of course. Jesus, Josh. Now there’s so much to think about.”

“Let’s not think about any of it right now. Let’s think about what we want to do for the rest of today.”

I blinked up at the clouds. “I want to eat something delicious.”

“We can do that.”

“I want to drink copious amounts of alcohol.”

Josh giggled. “Absolutely.”

“I kind of want to punish you for being bad.”

A surprised, excited laugh. “Oh! Well, I imagine we can do that, too.”

I sighed, looking back down at the ground. My heart still felt a little heavy, but my mind was clearing with each exchanged word. “I love how excited you get about things,” I told him, meeting his gaze, catching the sunlight sparkle in his pupils. “I love how you never stop moving, body and mind. But I like to feel like I’m right there with you.”

“You are.” Josh brought my hand to press against his chest. “Always.”

I moved it down to try and feel his heartbeat. “You know, we’ve talked about getting married so much, I really don’t know if the proposal will even be a surprise. You say otherwise, but–”

“Don’t say that,” Josh said with a little laugh. “It will be. I promise. I’ll just throw myself off a cliff or into the ocean if it falls flat.”

The house from the estate sale returned to my mind and I felt tense again, guilty for harboring my own little secret, though I had to admit to myself that my intentions behind keeping it weren’t quite as scary as Josh’s. “I have to tell you something, too,” I said, clearing my throat as if I were about to make a big speech, but really I was just trying to work the rest of the crying out of my body. “I actually kind of forgot about it while we were here. But you know that necklace I just gave you for your birthday?”

Josh reached up to touch the pendant. “Yes.”

“Okay, so, I got it from that estate sale that was happening like 15 minutes away from our place. I mentioned that to you.” I could hear myself talking too quickly, excited and nervous to finally relay the full experience of that event. “But what I didn’t tell you is that the actual house is going up for sale soon and I told the woman, the daughter of the owner who passed, that I’d be interested. She said she’d call me when she actually puts the house on the market.”

Josh smiled, genuine and big, and my heart’s heavy weight began to dissipate again. “Really? What’s it like?”

“It’s really cute. The outside needs some work,” I told him, trying to remember all of it. “But the inside looks pretty good. Some new paint would help for sure, and if we did look at it, we’d need to really look, but–yeah. I liked it. It felt like a real home.”

“Alright, so let’s look at it when it goes up,” Josh said, taking both of my hands in his.

“Really? You want to?”

“Absolutely, my darling. I got so caught up in the mere idea of this SCAD job that I don’t think I could see the forest for the trees.” He scooted in closer across the bench, locking our fingers together. “I never meant to make you feel like I was putting your wishes on hold. I want it all–to marry you and to have a home and everything that happens after. The little pieces are just that–little pieces.”

I needed to be sure so I asked, “So your heart isn’t completely set on Savannah? Because if you really want this job–and you get an offer–and you want to live here, I’m not going to discount it right away. Okay?”

Josh shook his head. “My heart is set on us being together and being happy. Truthfully, I’m not so sure I could live here either. It’s not calling to me in that way. But I love it here nonetheless and I am so glad you came with me on the journey.”

Over dinner Josh filled me in on more details. The job at SCAD did pay more than his current job, which was the biggest thing I had to consider, though it seemed to be the least important thing to him. Josh had never been all that motivated by money–he was truly in his field for the experience. He loved teaching and mentoring, loved the history of film, the ins and outs of the craft and he loved learning and creating more than anything. He told me more about how he hadn’t really thought about moving until Jake, Danny and Sam moved themselves, and how he thought about Detroit because the thought of being away from Jake wasn’t something he wanted to deal with yet, but when their band started to tour more, Josh felt almost rebellious about it. He was happy for their success, of course, and wanted to see them grow, but he felt like some of his own roots had been torn from the ground and figured setting up more roots of his–and our own–elsewhere might be a way to cope.

That was when he sort of, kind of, as he said, started looking around at other jobs. He thought my own desire for adventure would fuel whatever we decided, though right after he applied for the SCAD job, he realized that my own version of adventure wouldn’t really involve moving away. Josh said he knew how much I loved where we lived and how I wanted to be close to everyone we loved, and he almost didn’t go through with the interview but went for it anyway, then felt so wrapped up in his self-made sequence of events and subsequent fear–something he seldom had to face–that he didn’t know how to tell me. But he really did want to see this place for himself, recognizing that he couldn’t move somewhere without exploring it first, and he was leaning away from Savannah being a new home.

That reassured me even more–I really did love our small hometown in a way I’d never loved anyplace else. I loved the four seasons, how the lush greenery exploded after the spring rain came and the sun graced us after another harsh, dreary winter; the hot summers that were so short we had to hold onto every day of extended daytime as if it were the last; the brilliant autumn when slants of sunlight cast warm spells over the changing leaves. I loved the trails we walked together and I loved the Kroger that was just a few minutes away from our apartment; I loved being so close to my sister, to my parents, to Josh’s parents, to Danny’s parents, to everyone we treasured; I loved that abandoned barn that had helped to begin my relationship with Josh and the vast, deep sky that hung above it, housing millions of stars that felt closer to earth when we were really home.

We were tipsy again as the night was dwindling to a close and the twilight hours were inching near us. Back at the airbnb, Josh and I shared the last of the wine from the night before; once it was finally gone, we were pulling each other’s clothes off to trade for the sheets on the bed. I climbed over Josh and grabbed his wrists, pinning them over his head. He looked delighted at that, his toothy smile gleaming in the cool, low light while his eyes sparkled, staring into my own.

“No more secrets,” I said, bringing my face close to his. “From either of us. Okay?”

Josh nodded. “No more secrets,” he echoed, then stuck his tongue out.

I ducked and swiped my own tongue over his bottom lip. “Good.” I freed one wrist and ran my hand down his arm, squeezing his bicep before I felt the warmth of his chest beneath my palm. “You really scared me, Josh.”

He gave an exaggerated yet earnest frown. “I’m sorry, mama,” he said, lifting his hand to my face, running his fingers through the hair at my temple. “That was not my intention whatsoever.”

“I know,” I assured him. I mirrored his action, cupping his cheek with my hand, then traced the shell of his ear with my fingertips before I ran them through his hair. He was practically purring then, a soft, low rumble from his chest while he kept staring into my eyes. With anyone else, the level of eye contact Josh demanded would have been exceptionally uncomfortable; with him, it made me feel like we were the only two people in the universe.

Josh’s hand wandered down to my hips. “You should take these off,” he said, tugging at the waistband of my underwear. “Then take mine off, too.”

“I don’t think you’re in any position to be making requests,” I said with a chuckle, then an uncontrolled giggle burst from me when he tickled the inside of my thigh. I clamped my legs harder around him and grabbed that hand away, pinning it over his head once more. “No, no tickling either. That’s not fair.”

Josh turned his head to the side and sighed dramatically. “Fine, fine. Whatever gets you on my cock faster.”

I laughed loud and sharp, not expecting such casual, flippant dirty talk. I let his wrists go so I could slide down and away, leaving him with his arms extended after me; I grabbed his own underwear and yanked the fabric away from his body and his erection sprang free. In my tipsy state, with my mind still clinging to scraps of fear, I gawked at his nude form, so free and beautiful that it felt insane in that moment that he was there with me at all. But he was.

I wasn’t going to let the worst parts of myself creep up any further–I freed myself of my bra and panties before Josh could say or do anything, then I was on top of him again, collecting his face in my hands so I could kiss his soft, sensuous mouth. Even his little mustache and beard combo were soft thanks to the oils and moisturizers he diligently used, though I giggled again when he began kissing my neck and the hair tickled my skin.

“I really hate when you feel far away from me,” I said as Josh reached one hand down, grabbing my ass in encouragement. I laid my fingers over his jaw, making him meet my gaze. “Even if it doesn’t happen very often.”

“I could never be far away from you,” Josh replied, sincerity dripping from the words even with his buzzed slur. He giggled and added, “I could be on the other side of the world and I still wouldn’t be far.”

I huffed when his hand moved between us, his effort to try and fully connect us sending a shiver up my spine. “I’d just follow you.”

Josh’s wild, wine-drenched smile appeared on his face. “You would?”

“Duh.” I kissed him again, slow and sweet. “No question.”

With that, I lifted my hips and took him in; Josh hugged me snugly around my waist as he lifted his hips in return and I braced my hands on his shoulders. A brief blip of the memory of our first time together appeared to me and I caught my breath in my chest, recognizing that, in this moment, it felt so similar. The vulnerability and exposure of our first time was long gone, but the special something that drew us to one another so viscerally was still there–an invisible string that wrapped us together and tied the knot. Josh still looked at and touched me with the same reverence he’d had then; I tried to reciprocate with gentle strokes over his face, looking down at him and still able to see the bursting bundle of stars I’d fallen so madly in love with so quickly that it’d been an aching pain to come to terms with.

Now, it was so easy to love Josh and to show the entire world how much I did, no matter how small that world was.

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