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running-with-kn1ves · 2 months ago

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Satin Pillows To Cry On

CW: coercion with money, age gap(7 yrs), transactional marriage, obsessive/yandere behavior

gn! reader

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You’ve got nothing else, no one else to rely on.

‘You’re something he bought to keep from growing old.”

Your clothes are worth small countries. Your cars stacked in 3-level garages. Diamonds, emeralds, pearls hanging from your wrists and ears, satchels made of endangered animal skins, different shoes for each day of the year.

Your boyfriend of three years spat at your feet when you told him what you were doing.

“His money can’t love you, not like I can.”

The wedding was only two months away when you broke up with him, told him you couldn’t live in his broke-down apartment anymore, that you couldn’t live with debt trailing wherever you went. You went so far as to make him hate you, to tell him that you never wanted to see him again, that you never loved him, that he better not bother showing up to the wedding. You didn’t want him there, you never wanted to see him again.

“You’re lying to me; he’s making you say these things, he’s using you against me! You’ve known him what-- two seconds, and you’re going to marry this man?! He’s nearly a decade older than you!”

Seven years of an age gap or not, he was still a thousand times more independent, wealthy, and a safer choice than your boyfriend. You weren’t some fresh college student new to the world, you had graduated over two years ago, still finding no luck in getting a stable income-- forget about whether or not it was in the field of your degree.

You left in a single day, fitting all of your scavanged belongings into one of your fiance’s awaiting cars. You left anything worth of value with your ex-boyfriend, knowing he’d find more use out of it than you would. You would even leave the rest of your things there if he could find use for them, but you knew they’d just be one more painful reminder of your betrayal.

He did as you said, not showing up to your wedding, staying clear, never appearing in your line of sight since the day you left. It made it easier…. For both of you that way.

And now you were happy-- well, maybe not happy, maybe not even content, but you were… safe. You had everything you needed: a working car, a stable job that you felt productive in, a clean and comforting house to come home to, a spouse. Sure, maybe you didn’t get your new job yourself, or your house or your car-- but did that really matter, in this economy? Who wouldn’t trade their life and their independence for this kind of wealth?

And your husband… he wasn’t all bad. He might have only wanted you for the sake of having you at first, like a new jewel or the latest technological invention. But he was doting and caring in his own way. Maybe just a tiny bit too invested in you, in your schedule and who you talked to. A little too hateful towards your ex-boyfriend, the one who had you before he could. But everyone had character flaws, and on good days you could distract him from his grumpy mood and stress and obsessive behaviors by being the loving and oh so perfect spouse you had trained yourself to be ever since he asked to marry you.

“Colder than all that gold…” You repeated in your mind, the words your family whispered to each other at your wedding reception only a few feet away from you.

That was over six months now, though… the honeymoon phase never existed, you rarely saw your husband except for his midnight appearances back from the office, and whenever he would whisk you away for a weekend vacation to savor the time he had with you. For someone more sophisticated, much wealthier, and dare you say handsomer than the average man-- you were surprised to find he didn’t have a line of divorces behind him.

No; he said, he had been “waiting for you.” whether you or he knew it, he understood right from the moment of meeting you that you were the one he’d have for the rest of his life, even if it killed him. That severity… scared you. But in a sick sense, it made you feel relieved. Forever? This could be yours, forever? Your family would never have to struggle again, you would never have to worry where your next meal came from?

“I cleared your schedule until tuesday; we’re going to the isles. A mini vacation, you might call it. Get your things.”

He was cold, that was for sure. But, was he any worse than your ex-boyfriend, especially when he was offering you an expensive experience on top of that?

“All right..” You acquiesced.

And now, you lied sunken into the bed feeling his loving, hot breath on your navel. Going so sweetly slow, so oddly and uncharacteristingly lingering with his touches as he gazes into your eyes. You didn’t like this; didn’t like that when he was cherishing you, making love to you, holding you so intimately, he was appearing… like a husband should. Where did he get the nerve to ignore you everyday, to have hardly any time for you, only to come back and beg for your love when it was convenient for him?

But you keep your mouth shut, like you should, if you want to keep eating breakfast in bed, keep wearing silk robes while watching the view of the ocean outside your window.

“So beautiful…you’re like a work of art, the kind no amount of money can buy.”

That was funny, hilarious even. Enough so to make you cry.

A familiar face passes by the slightly ajar door to distract you, likely one of the housekeepers leaving for the night. But you swear the man’s figure reminds you of someone from your past, someone you loved and left for good.

Your husband brings back your attention by placing a gentle kiss to your temple, blindly undoing the clasp of the necklace he bought you.

“I’m so lucky… so lucky to have been the one to catch you, forever. No one could’ve done it, not without what I have.”

He wanted you to kiss and caress back, but sometimes lying still was just enough. It was enough for him to witness you, basking in the glow of everything you wore from him, lying in the Egyptian cotton sheets he paid extra for, your body molded to the diet his personal chefs cooked.

Even as he pushed a knee between your legs, traveling from your navel to your stomach with open-mouthed sucks and kisses in the rawest form of affection, you couldn’t help but turn your face deep into the pillow. So soft, the soft purple shielding your eyes from his tender gaze.

You might’ve given up love, given up everything familiar and those who you’ve cared for-- but at least you had satin pillows to cry on, and the finest jewelry to wipe your tears with.

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pleasantlycrazyworld · 4 months ago

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I just got diagnosed with chronic migraines recently, and today I woke up with one, so that was the inspiration lol

Logan was starting to get concerned. He hadn't heard from you all day, and now that he was thinking of it, he hadn't heard from you nearly all week. He asked around and got no answer on your whereabouts. He did find out that you canceled your classes for the week. In the three years of knowing you, he has never seen you cancel class for anything. Not even for when you had the flu. Growing more concerned, he decided to stop by your apartment to see if you were there.

When he got to your complex, he could see that your curtains were tightly drawn, and when he got to your door, he saw that your mailbox was overflowing with the past weeks' worth of mail. He grabbed everything in the box before unlocking the door with the spare key you gave him and let himself inside. When he stepped in a shiver ran down his spin "fuck it's cold" he muttered to himself as he ventured into your small space.

As he walked further in he saw the main living rooms ac unit on and he heard the bedroom ac unit on no wonder it's fucking freezing "Sweetheart?" He called out as he looks around, the space looked lived in. It didn't look like you left in a hurry so you had to be home and your car was parked out front still. He hears a muted groan coming from your bedroom that causes concern to rise in his chest. "Baby?" He calls out more frantic than before as he makes his way to the room but his movements come to a halt when he opens the door and finds you under a nest of pillows, blankets and stuffed animals. The room is like ice and your cat is by your feet ready to hiss at the intruder before it recognizes Logan. His heart drops as he sees pain gloss over your features.

"Oh baby." He whispers and closes the door behind him softly, he doesn't have to ask what's wrong he knows. These flare ups have been happening more and more and it kills him each time he witnesses one because he knows there isn't much he can do to help.

As he kicks off his boots you reach out and pull him into your bed of pillows and blankets. "Before you ask yes. I've taken my medicine, I've drank water, I've had caffine, I've eaten, hell I've even sat outside for a while to get vitamin D. I think I'm just supposed to be in a den." You mumble and bitch into his chest as you move around to get comfortable once again. He knows how frustrating this has been for you, first no one believed you when you said you had migraines no one but him. 'Oh they're just bad headaches' that's what everyone said to you but headaches don't last days, they don't make you nauseous or dizzy, they don't make it feel like any sort of light will make your head explode.

He knows that once you have done that checklist and still nothing has worked all he can do is lay there with you in your little den as you like to call it and hold you in his arms. All he can do is try and remind you that everything will be okay and hopefully after your nap you will feel better and everything will be back to being okay again. And if the nap doesn't help he'll help you go through the checklist one more time until something does help, he can't survive long since his love in pain.

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett #hugh jackman imagines #hugh jackman #deadpool and wolverine #wolverine imagine #wolverine x reader #comfort imagine #xmen imagine #marvel imagine #logan howlett fluff #wolverine fluff

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aureliaeiter · 4 months ago

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Nemoralia and the birthday of Goddess Diana

As I wasn't able to celebrate Nemoralia two days ago, I thought I'd make a post about it today. Nemoralia was a festival in honour of Goddess Diana. This festival was originally held at Diana's temple in Aricia, current day Nemi (50 minutes away from Rome by car).

May this informational post honor the goddess and help those that want to celebrate this festival.

August 13 - Diana's Dies Natalis

This was thought to be Diana's dies natalis (birthday) by members of the collegium of Diana and Antinous in Lanuvium.

Everyone took part in this festival though the main focus were women. As told by Plutarch, on this day, for reasons unknown nowadays, they washed their hair in a special ritual.

Enslaved people got this day off as they were under the protection of the goddess (worth to keep in mind that Diana's priest at Lake Nemi was always a runaway enslaved man). Male citizens and masters were able to participate in this festival but they were required to be on equal terms with women and enslaved people.

As this is one of the hottest days of the year, the celebrations started at night. Worshipers adorned not only their heads with flowers crowns, but also the heads of their dogs as they also took part in the celebration. Hunting or killing animals in any way was forbidden on this day. Horses were forbidden from entering this area.

At night, worshipers assembled at the Sanctuary and walked in a procession around Lake Nemi while holding candles or torches, similar to the ones Vestal Virgins carried. People wrote petitions on ribbons and tied them on tree branches and they also left votive offerings at the temple, especially related to part of the body in need of healing.

How to celebrate in current day

Make an offering to Diana. Some ideas are baking moon-shaped cakes, pouring wine, cutting a flock of your hair for her or lighting a special candle. You could also read a hymn in her honour.

Wash your hair or go to the hair salon to get a trim. Adorn it with flower crowns.

If you have a dog, pamper them!! Wash them, take them on a longer walk than usual, buy then special treats... The possibilities are endless.

Write your petitions in a ribbon and tie it in a tree branch. If you don't have any trees near you could also tie it to any plants you're growing at home or bury it in the ground.

Donate to good causes, foundations or shelters related to women, animals or those in need. The world really needs that right now.

If you are near Nemi, go to the ruins of the goddess' temple. People still give her flowers til this day. Also the council of Nemi celebrates Nemoralia since 2016, though I think this year was discontinued since I wasn't able to find any information about it.

The program is formed by different types of activities, from history or art lectures to guided tours or nature walks.

What's the actual date of Nemoralia?

There's a lot of confusion online about what the actual date of Nemoralia is, with some people saying it's only celebrated on the 13th, others saying it's on the 15th and others saying is a three day festival.

It's believed that at first it was celebrated on the full moon but during the Roman Republic it was set on August 13, as back then that's when the full moon happened. This has led modern scholars like Frazer to think that the festival may extended over a few days instead of just one.

So, when to celebrate? If you want to follow the Roman calendar, it should be on August 13. However, if you want to celebrate on a full moon like ancient worshipers would have, then it depends on the year (in 2024 it would be on August 19).

Additionally, since it's believed Nemoralia became the Assumption of Mary through syncretism with Catholicism, you may want to choose August 15 to celebrate, because if you live in a Catholic country or canton you'll most likely get a day off from work - which means more time to celebrate!

May Dea Diana bless you all!

#paganblr #paganism #witchblr #witchcraft #polytheism #polytheist #Diana #dea Diana #goddess diana #diana worship #diana devotee #roman polytheism #roman paganism #rompol #helpol

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suzy-queued · 1 year ago

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A Gallavich tale, told 100 words at a time.

**This story is now complete!**

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

A man jumped into the back seat of Ian’s car.

“You a driver?” Dark hair, one small piece of luggage.

“Yeah, only if you’re registered on the app.”

“Screw the app. Take me to Nashville.”

Ian choked on his Gatorade. “That’s eight hours from here.”

“So?”

“You gotta plan these things out. Get matched with the right driver.”

“It’s not like I knew that my fucking boyfriend was gonna run off to fucking Yee-Haw Land to elope with my sworn enemy.”

Ian checked the rearview and saw pain behind those angry blue eyes. He switched his app status to OCCUPIED.

---

Ian took the entrance ramp onto I-90. They should arrive in Nashville around … oh, 3:37 AM.

“I have an emergency kit.” Ian nodded with his chin. “Under the seat. A few comforts in case you need ’em.”

The passenger shuffled through the insulated bag. “Boxed juice. Granola bars. Fucking gummy bears, man? This is childhood stuff. You got any Jack Daniels?”

Ian felt a spark of disobedience. “I’ve got a few joints in the glove box.” This was definitely off-book behavior, but it felt right. “They come with a price.”

“What’s that, Jeeves?”

“You’ve gotta tell me your whole story.”

---

The dark-haired passenger scoffed. “You don’t look like you’ve got the stomach to get caught up on my bullshit.”

“Try me.”

“Whatever. Fuckin’ sadist.” He settled into his seat. “You ain’t wearing a wire, right?”

“Not today.”

“All right, so, you ever heard of Berry Buds?”

“Those stuffed animals in the shape of fruit? Don’t people use those to smuggle coke?”

The guy raised an eyebrow. “You too delicate to hear about crime, pumpkin? There’s murder, too. Betrayal. And a pair of pink flamingos.”

“Wait, back up. You forgot the most important part. What’s your name?”

The passenger only smiled.

---

Man, this passenger could talk. Ian heard an hour’s worth of Milkovich family crimes.

Milkovich.

Ian didn’t know the guy’s first name. Only how passionate he was, the excitement in his voice.

“So Iggy launched the box of M-80s into the river, right, and this long-legged yahoo waltzes up.” Milkovich paused. “Wait, did you just yawn? If it’s such a chore to listen, I can fuckin’ stop.”

Ian made eye contact in the rearview mirror. “I was promised murder. A boyfriend.”

Milkovich slunk in his seat. “Keith.” All his passion faded to pain. “Yeah … guess I can talk about him.”

---

“Keith is …” Milkovich seeped with defeat and anger. “He’s the first person who saw me as more than a thug. We met at the liquor store. Been together seventeen months. I thought we were long-term, you know? Then he starts spending time at clubs. Digging into the scene. I don’t give a fuck if he does coke to let off steam. But he keeps getting it from the same guy. Real tall motherfucker. White-blond hair. Wears sweater vests.”

“Northside prick.”

“Oh, you know this guy?”

Ian had seen plenty of club action. He hardened in solidarity. “I know the type.”

---

“Anyways, that’s how I realized my piece-of-shit boyfriend is marrying fancy-pants Logan Covington, the motherfucker who snipes our business and has led the biggest anti-Milkovich smear campaign this side of Michigan.” The passenger let out a sigh. He slowed for the first time in an hour. “Shoulda known by that haircut. He came home looking like a walking Ken doll.”

“So, wait.” Ian sorted through the complicated story threads. “Are you going to kill your boyfriend?”

“No, man, keep up. I want to get him back.” He leaned forward, laying his hand on Ian’s shoulder. “And you’re gonna help me.”

---

Ian scoffed. “Don’t rope me into your drama.”

“Come on, man. We show up at the chapel, tell Keith I’m dating you now, let the jealousy unfold.”

Unbelievable. Ian shouldn’t even consider the offer. He had a ton to do this weekend. But Milkovich was obviously hurting.

Ian scratched his chin. “And I’d be on the clock the whole time?”

“What, you scared to do it? You a homophobe or something?”

“I’m gay.”

Milkovich stared, hard. He looked Ian up and down. “You never mentioned that.” He gave a coy smirk.

Ian felt a shot of electricity. “You never asked.”

---

The Silver Diner in Lafayette, Indiana bustled with activity.

Milkovich talked over the sizzling grill. “Still don’t know why we stopped here.”

“Can’t think on an empty stomach.” Ian flagged the waitress.

Jolene smiled, leaned into the booth. “Order’s coming right up, sugarpot.” She touched Ian’s arm as she left.

Milkovich frowned. “That shit happen to you a lot?”

“What?”

“Chicks waving their boobs in your face.”

“I don’t really notice.” But Milkovich noticed. Interesting.

“It’s good, actually. We can use it in our plan. People find you attractive.”

“You think I’m pretty?”

He rolled his eyes. “Didn’t say me.”

---

Milkovich rolled a coin across the diner table. “You see that? Table's tilted by a degree-and-a-half. Cheap off-balance pedestal leg. I’d have used a trestle instead.”

Huh. This guy’s shoulders relaxed when he talked about normal stuff.

“The key with builds like this…” The guy was smart. Layered. Funny. And his eyes twinkled when he geeked out about construction, apparently.

Ian was finding new ways to be awed each minute.

“…at least shim the motherfucker because…”

Ian interrupted. “I’m in.”

“Huh?”

“Your plan? I guess can pretend to like you.”

Ian’s stomach swooped. Pretend might not be the right word.

---

“Seriously, you’ll do it?” Milkovich raised an eyebrow. “Okay, lay it on me. Tell me everything about you.”

Ian enjoyed sharing his details. “I’m one of six kids. Two sisters, three brothers. Wait, you’re not writing this down? You’re gonna memorize all this shit?”

The guy leaned forward, intense, piercing. He traced his finger around Ian’s wrist. “We’re chained now. I’ll remember everything about you.”

This was absurd, but the guy seemed dead serious.

Ian felt goosebumps. He took charge and matched the guy’s intensity. “Then tell me your first name.”

A quick tongue flick. The guy nodded. “It’s Mickey.”

---

Turns out, scheming and joking with Mickey was easier than breathing. Ian drummed on the table. “Okay, how’d we meet? I gave you a ride somewhere?”

“And then I rode you.” Mickey laughed. “Simple enough. How about second date?”

Ian’s inner romantic spun into action. “A rooftop picnic. You brought snacks and whiskey.”

“Hm. Doesn’t sound like me.”

“I brought a tire iron and gun because I didn’t trust you.”

Mickey smirked, like these lies were becoming reality in his head. “Wise man.”

Ian swelled. His weekend suddenly had purpose. He’d be the best fake boyfriend in the goddamn world.

---

They hit the john before they got back on the road. Pissed in outdated urinals, washed their hands.

Ian watched Mickey closely. Every turn, every strut, every smirk. That’s how he noticed that Mickey flinched when the hand dryer shot to life.

“Mickey Milkovich.” Ian laughed. “You can dump a mob boss in the Chicago River but you’re afraid of a little hot air?”

“It’s fucking startling.”

Mickey paused in the doorway. Tilted his head. Looked up at Ian. “Keith … he never noticed that about me.”

Ian elbowed him, defusing his sadness. “I’m going to learn all your secrets, boyfriend.”

---

Around midnight, the rhythm of repeating street lights on Interstate 65 lulled Ian toward sleep.

“Can I ask you a question?” Mickey looked damn relaxed, too. Seat leaned back. Legs stretched out. Talking in a low voice. “Let’s say I blew this.”

“Not gonna happen.”

“Say I end up alone. Do I deserve that?”

Ian could certainly judge. He’d heard about Mickey’s crimes, his family, his dating history.

He wanted to hold Mickey’s hand. He wanted to find the right words to remedy this hurt.

“Mickey, you are the most –”

A bang. A crash. Ian’s face smashed into the airbag.

---

Ian took inventory. He was conscious. Neck pain. Bleeding nose.

He scrambled to unfasten his seatbelt. To wave away the airbag dust.

He pawed at Mickey’s leg, arm, chest. “Are you okay?”

“I’m scraped up.” Mickey coughed. “What happened?”

“Someone clipped our bumper. We spun out. Hit the guardrail. I was out of control.”

“Why are you pulling on my eye?”

Ian lowered his hand. “Checking for a concussion.” He tried to steady his breath, calm his panic. “I’m sorry. I let you down.”

Mickey set his injured hand on Ian’s, offering shaky reassurance. “Better than being worm food, man.”

---

The cops had come and gone. Reality settled in. Ian’s car was undriveable. They were stranded.

Mickey’s anxiety spiked. “How the hell am I getting to the wedding now?” He paced along the shoulder, pointing at Ian. “Who drives for a fucking living and doesn’t have roadside assistance?”

Ian spoke via speakerphone to a random tow company they’d Googled. “It’s a silver Camry. Near exit 130.”

Mickey yelled into the phone. “Just look for the goddamn ring of fire lighting up I-65.”

Ian prayed for strength. “Ignore him. There’s no fire.” Unless you counted the flames rising from Mickey’s nostrils.

---

Ian talked to Mickey in the crammed cab of the tow truck. “I told you I’d get you there. I’ll think of something.”

The mechanic pulled into a repair shop. “Car can stay here. Hank opens at 7:00 tomorrow.”

Mickey exploded. “It’s not open 24 hours?”

“This is Indianapolis, not L.A.”

“How are we supposed—"

Ian held up a hand to stop him. He could feel Mickey’s desperation, his impatience and heartbreak. “Is there a hotel nearby?”

The mechanic pointed across the street. To a run-down motel called King Richard’s Royal Inn.

Mickey glared. “Well, long live the fuckin’ king.”

---

Josie at the front desk didn’t even look at her computer. “I’m sorry. It’s race week. We don’t have room for more guests.”

Mickey glared at Ian. “Come on, Gingerbread. You’re taking me to the Motel 6.”

Josie snorted. “You’ll be lucky to find a campground in this town with a vacancy.”

“Guess I’m sleeping in your fucking lobby, then.”

As if Ian didn’t feel bad enough about this situation.

A chime sounded on the computer.

“Hey, now.” Josie smiled. “We’ve just had a cancellation.” She looked between them. “It’s a single. One full-sized bed.”

Mickey didn’t hesitate. “We’ll take it.”

---

“Door’s flimsy enough to kick open.” Ian unlocked the motel room.

Mickey groaned. “No TV. No closet. They better have hot water.”

“Jesus, the bed’s small.” Ian’s neck ached. This was officially hell.

“You gonna be all right, Red? We’ve got to get used to touching each other.”

Ian grabbed him and pulled him close, roughly. “Think we’ll be able to fool Keith?”

And, damn, Mickey’s face was right fucking there, looking tired. Cranky. Kissable. “We should do it bareback in the middle of the chapel just to piss him off.”

Oof.

Ian was not going to survive this night.

---

Mickey cracked the bathroom door as he showered, fogging up the motel room.

Ian sat on the bed, still for the first time tonight. He felt warmth. Pain. Adrenaline let-down.

Mickey’s silhouette moved behind the curtain. A hint. A tease. An invitation.

What if … Ian pulled the curtain back?

He could feel those sturdy shoulders, that smooth skin. Trace his tongue along the water droplets. Grab that thick … hair.

What if Mickey dropped his guy and took Ian on? Then what?

Would Mickey get tired of him?

Desire. Curiosity. Potential. Ian’s thoughts swirled like water.

… then the shower clicked off.

---

“Jesus!” Mickey pulled the curtain back. “Damn water turned to ice.” He jumped from the shower, lunging for a towel.

And of course Ian had been staring and saw everything. Mickey’s dripping body. The toned muscles in his legs. His stomach. A quick flash of his anatomy.

Ian turned away.

“Fucking freezing, man.” Mickey’s wet feet slapped on the floor. “This is on you, Gallagher.”

Ian peeked. The towel did nothing to hide the curve of Mickey’s ass.

God, Ian had to tamp down his infatuation. Maybe cockiness would work instead. “I hear skin-to-skin contact gets you warm the fastest.”

---

Mickey huffed at Ian’s joke. “You tryin’ to see me naked?”

“It’s for science. Research.”

Mickey shrugged and reached for the knot of his towel. The world moved in slow motion now, a tattooed hand tugging white cotton.

The fabric fell away, sliding down his leg. Dark hairs matted against skin. Body with the right balance of definition and softness.

Ian’s heart beat fast. He felt it getting stronger and stronger and stronger.

He glanced up and fell into Mickey’s eyes.

One touch could overcome the silence. One touch could reveal Ian’s crush.

Mickey smiled, all confidence. “Your turn, Loverboy.”

---

In this game of chicken, Mickey was winning.

Ian gulped. It was only fair, right? Mickey needed to see his body for their boyfriend charade to work.

Ian peeled off his jeans. His t-shirt, going slow and begging all his parts to stay chill.

Mickey never broke eye contact.

Ian slid his boxers down, breathless.

“Patriot tattoo. Boobs tattoo.” Mickey nodded. “Carpet matches the drapes. Uh-huh.”

How could Mickey stay so calm when he was tearing Ian’s nerves to pieces?

Mickey stepped within touching distance. “Only one more question, hot shot.”

“What’s that?”

“How good of an actor are you?”

---

Ian held his ground. “I’m a great actor.”

“Could you kiss me right now?” Mickey’s gaze raked down Ian’s body. “Kiss me and not get hard?” Mickey spoke oh-so-slowly. “We’re together, right? So we supposedly kiss all the time. Can you control yourself?”

A song burst through the tension. A silly cartoon voice repeating, You are my cute-cumber. You are my cute-cumber.

Mickey’s eyes widened. “Fuck, my phone.”

He scrambled, but the sound went silent before he got there.

Ian laughed. “Seriously? That’s the cheesiest alert.”

“You don’t understand.” Mickey looked up with pain in his eyes. “That’s Keith’s ringtone.”

---

Keith’s call shifted Mickey's vibe from flirty to flustered.

Ian slid on his boxers and jeans. Being naked suddenly seemed wrong.

“Why the fuck was he calling?” Mickey threw the towel over his lap. “He didn’t leave a voicemail. Is he having second thoughts about the wedding? Should I call back?”

Ian had no clue how to help. “Just take a minute. Breathe.”

“My brain’s turning to mush here, Gallagher. I’m exhausted. I’m confused. We haven’t eaten in hours. And now this? Tell me what the fuck to do.”

Ian didn’t think. He yanked Mickey’s head back and kissed him.

---

The kiss was overwhelming. Tinged with panic. Wonderful. Scary. Exciting. Over too soon.

Mickey touched his own lips. “That’s good. I … needed that.”

“This trip’ll be stressful enough without you freaking out. When the anxiety ratchets up in that head of yours, I’ll take care of you, all right?”

Mickey nodded. Took a second. Smirked. “Knew you couldn’t do it.”

“What?”

“Knew you couldn’t kiss me without getting hard.”

“You’re an asshole.”

But the intensity on Mickey’s face told Ian not to push. The bright blue eyes. The absolute relief at being taken care of.

Ian let the moment simmer.

---

Ian needed to be supportive. A bodyguard. A wingman, offering safety pins and pep talks.

He pulled two joints from his pocket. “You weren’t meant to face this weekend sober.”

“Fuck, man, you always know what I need.”

“Snagged ’em from my glove box after the crash.” Ian lit up and offered one to Mickey. “I know everything seems fuckin’ hopeless, like your life is wrecked. You ain’t wrong.”

“This supposed to make me feel better?”

“The point is, it’s okay to be who you are.”

“What’s that, big guy?”

Ian threaded their fingers together. “A loser, just like me.”

---

The wee hours passed in a purple haze of weed and exhaustion.

They didn’t sleep. They lay beside each other in that tiny bed, clothes on, joking and mumbling.

They bumped elbows, knocked knees, held hands.

Ian ached for more touch. For a kiss that meant more than comfort.

Mickey’s icy blue eyes held him at bay. I can’t face that yet. Please let me hover outside of reality a little longer.

In the orange glow of sunrise, Ian gathered his nerve. He asked the question he’d been pondering all night. “You still want to go to this wedding, Milkovich?”

---

Mickey sat too far away on the motel bed. “Why wouldn’t I go? Keith is my boyfriend. We live together.”

“How’s that gonna work out once the newlyweds get home?”

“I still want to go.”

This wasn’t right, goddammit. In the movies, a kiss leads to a romantic finale, not this stubborn insistence to stay on course.

Ian grasped at one last hope. “To win Keith back?”

Mickey inched closer. He held Ian’s chin. Broke into a smile. “To show him what a big mistake he made.”

This time, the kiss was only about the two of them. Fuckin’ finally.

--- * --- * --- * --- * ---

Hey. Is this thing on?

Gallagher’s been doing an okay job telling this story, but now it’s my turn. And none of that past-tense, passive bullshit. I’ll tell you everything the moment it happens, okay?

You’re gonna witness every mile, every pit stop, every tacky decision my ex makes for this wedding. His abysmal choice in groom. Some godawful silver balloon arch. Those lime-flavored vodka Jell-o squares he loves so much.

Damn, I can’t wait to see the scowl on Keith’s face when Ian and I start playing tonsil hockey on the dance floor.

We’re gonna fuck some shit up.

---

It’s seven AM. I’m camped outside Hank’s Body Shop drinking coffee-colored swill.

Ian’s beside me, giving me bedroom eyes, running his fingers up my arm. He’s tempting as fuck.

Hank unlocks the door and lets us in. “Knew you’d be waitin’.”

I spot Ian’s car, nod toward it. “What’s the damage?”

“Her bones are good, but you’re looking at three grand in parts and labor. I have an opening on October first.”

“October? That’s six weeks from now.”

Hank shrugs. “You can tow her somewhere else. No skin off my teeth.”

Ian eyes darken, and not in a sexy way.

---

Look, I’ve learned a lot about Gallagher in the past day. If he says he’s gonna do something, he will.

We’re definitely getting to Nashville.

He’s got about eighty tabs up on his phone. “Ubering is ridiculously expensive. A rental car’ll surcharge me because I’m not twenty-five.”

“You’re not?”

“Not until next May.” Ian doesn’t even look up. “Greyhound leaves at 11:30. What time’s the wedding?”

“Six.”

“Guess we’re taking the bus.”

I fucking hate this idea. Ian can tell. He grabs me by the waist. “We can cuddle the whole way there.”

Okay, maybe I fucking love this idea.

---

We leave the car behind. Leave the body shop behind. Check out of the motel, leave it behind.

All I’ve been doing lately is letting things go. Releasing the goddamn trapeze wire and falling without a net.

My ex is the hardest fucking thing to let go.

Ian and I sit in the back seat of a cab, on our way to the bus station. He holds my hand, simply. “This is the first time I’ve seen your shoulders relax.”

He's a six-foot-high, freckly-armed godsend. It's easier to let go when a motherfucker like that is waiting to catch you.

---

The bus trip passes in a blur. I’m lost in a tangle of Gallagher limbs. He touches my forehead, cups my cheek, kisses me every minute on the minute.

After all the shit we’ve gone through, the ride feels too easy. Roadblocks are easy to rally against. But when the path is clear, doubt creeps in.

We pull into Nashville Station at four o’clock. It’s sunny. The air smells like Keith.

He’s probably putting on his tux and double-checking the flowers right now.

I’ve been obsessed. I haven’t taken a moment to breathe.

Fuck.

Am I doing the right thing?

---

I shove down my hesitation, because fuck Keith. If I want to crash his party, I’ll do it with a wrecking ball.

Ian and I step out of an Uber, bleary-eyed. The white chapel sits in a commercial strip, bathed in neon.

There’s two pink birds dressed in tuxedos mounted out front. I rip one from the grass. “Goddamn flamingos, man. That was supposed to be our thing.”

A man greets guests at the chapel steps. “Thank you for coming, thank you ah-very much.” Rhinestones. Bell bottoms. Sunglasses.

I can’t handle this shit. “He’s having fucking Elvis officiate his wedding?!”

---

I’m ready to find out what kinda froufrou shindig my ex is throwing. I’m gonna bust in his skull the second he vows himself to that prick Logan Covington.

Only … I haven’t moved yet.

Ian sets his hand on my neck. He touches a muscle that calms my whole goddamn body. “Hey, there’s a pizza place around the block. You up for it?”

I blink. “Bustin’ this up isn’t going to help anything, is it?”

He shakes his head.

Fuck. That voice of reason finally takes hold. “Pizza it is, then.”

The moment we turn, I hear a voice. “Mickey?”

---

Keith’s tux is perfect. His hair is perfect. “What’re you doing here? H-how are you?”

“Me? I don’t have a care in the goddamn world.”

He’s got candles in one hand and hideous flowers in the other. He pauses, like there’s no fucking sense hiding what’s going on. “I’m dying to know what you’re thinking.”

Well, fuck, I am, too. Because I didn’t plan this far. This whole trip’s been fueled by spitfire and rage. Now here we stand, face-to-face, and I’m torn between revenge and the strong freckled hands of my Uber driver.

I open my mouth to speak.

---

I can’t find the right words. My mouth works on autopilot. I turn my head and lay the biggest goddamn kiss on Ian. His body tenses, then he melts into it like we’ve been doing this shit for years.

I forget that Keith’s there. Elvis fades away. The chords of the practicing organist fade away.

I pull back slowly, staring at Ian.

“Um, hello?” Keith waves.

“Ian and I are gonna grab some grub. Maybe check out that haunted Nashville tour. Have fun with whatever bullshit you’re doing today.”

I don’t care how petty I sound.

I’m finally fuckin’ free.

---

I hear Keith stammering behind me. I don’t care what he has to say or what a clusterfuck this’ll be after the dust settles and we return home.

Ian and I shuffle down the sidewalk arm-in-arm.

The pizza ain’t Chicago style, but it tastes amazing. The hotel Ian picks for us ain’t fancy, but the sheets are clean.

We kiss against the wall. He peels off my clothes.

25 hours. 475 miles. One motherfucking Elvis. One round of drowsy sex.

I’m comfortable tangled in Ian’s gangly arms.

We do the thing I’ve been dying to do for an eternity … sleep.

---

Ian hands our key to the hotel clerk. “My friend and I enjoyed our stay.”

I nudge Ian as we walk outside. “Why’d you call me that?”

“Because you’re my friend.”

I pinch my eyes. I need more.

Ian slinks against me. “You’re my… lover.” Now he’s getting it. “Wanna bite you. Wanna nibble on you the whole way home.”

Better, but I still need more. “When we get back, will you be my—”

“Yes.” For Ian, it’s as simple as that.

We got no car. No plan. We only have each other.

And that’s all I fuckin’ need.

---*---*---*---*---

ONE YEAR LATER

Ian threw a receipt onto the kitchen table. “Finally paid the last toll. Got all the Camry repairs done.”

Mickey smirked. “We never got to show off our fake dating skills on that trip.”

“There’s one last souvenir I gotta deal with.” Ian got down on one knee, holding a small black box. “You’re in this house – this home – all the time. Might as well make it official.”

“You sayin’ you wanna get hitched?”

“You up for it? No flamingoes, I promise.”

Mickey pulled him into a kiss. “Pretty wise choice, hopping in your car that day.”

#galladrabbles #galladrabble #100 words #gallavich fan fiction #master post #no sleep til nashville

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poetsofthestars · 6 days ago

Text

Haven't been too active, so going to do a poetry dump(some of these are older)

🌌Kuiper's Poetry🌌

The Trees are... Calling You

The trees

Their arms,

Outstretched.

Their mouths,

Frozen shut,

For we have hurt them.

Torn them from their home,

Brought them into ours.

But they are not happy here.

They are being burnt,

Chopped up,

Sent to hell and brought back as

Some third graders story.

Is it worth it?

Is it worth killing so many,

For this?

This, which could be so avoided?

Killing, just to let the bodies burn and fly away,

Smoke in the air.

Goodbye,

My dear.

Goodbye.

I hope your death was worth it,

To keep me warm

The Reaper

The Crone,

The Reaper

Whatever you want to call it.

Death.

A mystery,

Yet so familiar

A concept we all know from the start

(and what is birth but the beginning of a ride,

a ride to the end)

I don’t

Long

For Death.

For the reach of her sweet arms of sleep around me.

No.

All I have

A burning, searching,

Seeking curiosity

What is it?

An abyss?

A life?

A rebirth?

A continuation?

Do you step off the roller coaster to find yourself on a ferris wheel,

A bumper car?

Or do you step off the roller coaster,

Breath,

Step back on.

Or maybe,

Maybe

The roller coaster simply

Stops

We all stop

Nothing comes after it

No life, no thought,

No heaven or hell

A nothing

A seeping nothing

That drips from the ceiling and hides in the cupboard

Or maybe

Life is all we have

Our only chance

Before we leave.

Even if we live again,

This life would be gone

So reach out

Take it

Grasp it in both hands.

Cup it, whisper to it,

Sing to it

Love it

It might be the only one you get

Does the Water Remember?

Does the water remember

The pain it has felt?

The cycles of life it’s gone through again and again?

Does the water remember the pain?

Does the water ache for something long gone,

Peaceful

Always a blank slate

Never lonely,

Never wanting for something lost

Always changing,

Moving on

Does the water remember the pain

The ache of days gone by

I hope,

If the water remembers,

It remembers the joy

Animals forgotten by the world,

Drinking from its pool

Does the water remember?

The pain,

The joy,

The lives and deaths it must’ve seen

Does the water remember?

Dysphoria

My brain

Itches

Scratches

Bites and claws at me to be free

My body

Wrong

Crying and screaming

Everything is wrong wrong wrong and where are my wings and my hearts and my life and why do i why am i whywhywhywhywhy

And I'm stuck in this body that’s wrong

A binder

Helps

Kind of

Forces my body into mimicking the right shapes

Outside

Helps

I want to be outside because outside I just

But outside hurts

Too big

Too hard

Too bright

Hurts my knees and my bones and my joints and my eyes and and and

But I know

Some form of peace

Outside

My brain is bored

Dull

I'm not learning anything I'll never go anywhere be anyone get away away away from here

Life feels

Dull

Pointless

Exhausting

I barely have the energy to eat to walk to sleep and you want me to go places do things that don’t fucking help me teach me do anything

I am trapped in a system of tired and dead and get me away

Please get me away

From here

My body

Where I am stuck

Trying to claw

And some days

I’m fine

My heart doesn’t feel too big

My body doesn’t feel too wrong

But most days

I'm

Not

Very not

I just want to breathe

My Book, on my Table, in my Hands

A cover, pages and pages and pages inside.

It's seen my hous

Examined it with touch and gaze.

Its pages,

Glowing white against the dark of night.

It remains steady on the ground

But I lift it up.

My binder, near it.

My bookmark, sticking up from page 43.

How can you hold such sorrow

And such colour?

The author, up late, typed it up,

Cared enough to bring it to life.

A soft hu

It tells a story.

It resembles nothing truly natural.

It is a book,

A voice,

Trapped on a page.

Road of Memories

Look at this

This road of memories

There,

forget.

This road

A brimming history of me

This road.

Familiar,

Changed,

Changing.

Always changing.

Every trip,

Different

A literal memory lane

My mind,

Then,

A highway?

A sad,

Lonely drive away from home?

This road,

Winding and twisting

Up and over the pass.

This road

Empty,

Lonesome

But hopeful.

Hope of elsewhere,

Hope of something new.

This road of memories,

Winding its way to elsewhere.

Of Songbirds and Stories

Look

There

A little bird

A bluebird,

Or maybe a robin

Hovering just above a branch,

Nearly landed

Calling out its own name

Chick-a-dee-dee-dee-dee

Chick-a-d

It's telling you to listen,

More than that,

To hear

‘Listen to my story,

Listen to my song’

Look,

There,

Another bird,

Or wait,

A flock of geese

Another story,

Being told.

Listen.

Star Gazing

I love

Yearn so much it hurts

Yearn for something I've never

Will never have

To swim and splash among the stars, a night-blue dolphin

But

It quiets my brain

If only for a few minutes

From a roar to a dull rush

Everything ignored until something snaps me back to the world I live in

The hush hush of the creek, of the wind

Calming, breathing

I love star gazing

To be someone other than that which I have been so cursed to be

If only for a moment

To live and long for those happy dream-memories

To yearn,

I love

Star gazing

Elemental

I am a man

Of the sea and the sky

I am of currents and winds

This poem

Meant to be so lyrical

So peaceful and beautiful

But how can it be

Because it kills me it kills me it kills me

The craving

To be other than that which I am

Be that a bird, a ray or the stars themselves.

It kills me.

That I am trapped in this form

Stuck on this rock on the solid ground

And

I was trying to write something beautiful

Something kind to me,

To the world.

But

My brain takes this and spins it and spins it

Into something cruel something sad

I’m not suffering too much

I love my friends,

My people.

But my body, myself

Is naught but heavy weight

The Lake

The quiet stretching Lake

Before me

The water droplets,

Loud loud water

A tip tip tip tip tip

As each drops hits the surface

An impact

Soon forgotten

And there,

Bubbles

Something sinking?

Something breathing?

A life, a death

Something new,

Something

Very old

Or, something

Not

Living

A rock,

A stick of wood

A mystery of the world,

Really

I suppose,

When the bubble go,

When the lake fades to clearer skies

There will only be the lake and the lake and the lake

Stretching and searching and breathing

The Truth, in an Ankle

You would expect

That at this point

Pain is just a fog,

Dull, thrumming background noise

And usually,

Yeah. Usually pain is something to ignore and to move through

But then

Then you get hurt

Then you trip

Or hit your head

Or get sick

And all of a sudden

You can feel all of it

It was an ankle for me

Fourteen years old and tired as hell

I rolled it so hard the whole world went dull

And then I could feel

Feel the neglect and the pain and the exhaustion

Creeping into my body through this quiet pathway of a rolled ankle

And I couldn’t think over the noise and the heat and the pain

And it made me

Kind of sad

That if I was in this much pain

For a day, a week

It was

Excusable

Understandable

An acute pain, with an acute cause

But then

That pain goes on for weeks, for months, for years, forever

And it

Doesn’t matter

No one notices, no one cares

They just. Accept it and move on

And that hurts

More than all the rolled ankles in the world, honestly

And I thought–am thinking, whatever–

About crutches

And support

And I can’t be a crutch anymore

I feel–sometimes–

Like I'm stretching myself thin to cracking

To help other people

To provide care and support and everything

When I can barely support myself

I'm just. Tired

People

Forget

I think

That I'm younger than all of them

I pass off as responsible and put together and coping

And they

Forget

Which is great,

Honestly

It means I get to be normal

But

Sometimes

My youth overwhelms me

Crashing over in waves of tired and dizzy and hurting

And I

Push it down

Push it all down until I can find a time(never) to deal with it

I'm just

So tired

You would expect,

That at this point,

ld be dull.

Bland.

Manageable.

And that?

That hurts like hell, honestly

#original poetry #original poem #poet kuiper 🌌#original poetry🌌#poetry #poets of the stars

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malottie · 8 months ago

Note

15 19 20 24 25 26 29 30 38

❤️

that is a long ask! <3

15: what do you think when you see "home"?

honestly, i don't really know. maybe it's because my first language, french, doesn't have the concept of "home" itself, having that meaning ascribed to "house" or "one's place", things like that. maybe it's because i don't feel at home in my own body, and so cannot think about home. i know how important of a concept it is, the idea of home, but it feels sort of. empty to me. don't know why

19: favorite thing about the day

i'd say the bright sky. be it the color of ash, of peach, of sapphire, it is always lovely. do you like the color of the sky? opalescent, cerulean, violet; from summer-dawn orange to winter-dusk marine blue.

20: favorite thing about the night

the peace and rest. the dark, and the stars it invites; the quasi-silence, and the serenity it brings; the slow veil of the gods of sleep and dream.

which is why i hate big cities. to quote myself, " ... the city that humms the eerie tune of 'sleep is for the weak and the world shall never stop', blinded by the concrete and the cars and the streetlights that scream of 'the dark is to be conquered, and we shall kill the night itself too'."

24: one thing you're proud of about yourself

giving myself time. i don't have much to be proud of yet, and it's fine. i'm giving myself the time to heal and to grow properly, not rushing, not pushing myself, not being ashamed or angry at the fact i'm getting better very slowly. beside, i'm only 18. i'm just a baby

25: favorite season and why

i'm spring/fall team. summer is always way too hot, but the barrenness of winter isn't very fun, nor good for the spirit. spring is the best because we have flowers and trees springing to life, we have the sun but with fresh, moving air. it is the rebirth of the cycle of life. not that autumn isn't nice too

26: favorite color and why

that's the good stuff!! #9153ff. this

not purple. not violet. not perrywinkle or whatever. this. to the tee. changing the rgb values just a bit makes it worse, in every case.

i discovered it with the game "tomorrow won't come for those without ⬜️⬜️⬜️⬜️⬜️⬜️", made by etherane, the person who also made Hello Charlotte, which lives rent free in my head. it is the most perfect, most beautiful shade of purple. hue of the gods, truly.

29: what do you do when you're sad?

honestly, i kinda just crumble. my coping mechanisms are centered around NOT feeling the sadness (i know it's not healthy, i'm trying okay? T-T) so when i DO feel the bad emotions it's closer to a dam breaking over your head than being rained on. i just sort of get splattered on the ground for a while and then i get back to business as usual. in these moments i have zero energy and zero wants so i don't. really DO anything

30: one thing that never fails to make you happier

talking to people. it came as a surprise at first; i'm not really a people person, whole neuridivergent stuff and all. but when i talk with people with whom the communication struggles can be overcome, or people in the same situation as me, social interaction can feel nice. if i enjoy someone's presence, just exchanging a few words can turn my "everything is bad and everything hurts and i don't want anything or anyone, not even myself"s into "actually i love people and all of it is worth it and the whole world is scripture"s

38: favorite song at the moment

i don't really have any one song i listen to on repeat rn. i could say Sdorica-The Story Unfolds. less recently it's been Zoltraak, from the anime Frieren

#ask game

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nerves-nebula · 1 year ago

Note

was wonderinv who to ask then saw ur poston art school and went . yo!

anyway can i ask hows art school? like . is it worth it?? whats the experience and everything like + do u regret ur decision to go there? (dont feel forced to answer any of these) (for context + incase it wasn’t obvious ive been wanting and thinking of going to one if ever given the chance)

Oh man, where to start. Well first of all some of the main reasons to go to art school are the resources and the connections.

If you wanna get into furniture for example, that’s a lot easier if you have access to a whole workshop with tons of different saws. I’ve learned to use three different book binders as well as done hand binding myself, which is great fun for me but idk how I’ll make money out of that.

The thing is that depending on your major/department, a lot of the stuff you do in art school you could theoretically do on your own as well. So if you think you have enough willpower to make your own schedule and find your own resources then I’d say do that, and work on building your portfolio so you can show it off if you ever get the chance. especially if you don’t really have the money for college (I’m incredibly lucky to have someone help me cuz otherwise I’d be screwed)

If I’m honest, I didn’t really want to go to college at the time of me applying. I was kind of interested in learning how to wrap cars, and I wanted to take a course in that, if you can believe it. but all of my parents kids have to go to college no matter what (as in my mom forced me to apply to college and then sent me off like “I can’t help you pay for college btw good luck!”) so it was inevitable that I was going to go to an art school. which is fine because i've also always kind of wanted to go to a school, i was just stressed about not being able to afford it haha.

THEN there's what kind of art school you're going to. I'm at one of the most prestigious fine arts schools in the USA, because though I got admitted to others, I couldn't afford to go to others. the one I'm at offered the most money, because they could afford to. Idk what I'm gonna do with this degree but im in graphic design rn so I'll probably do something in that field. and it helps that the name of my school is renowned.

but if you, say, want to get into animation you're probably going to NEED to go to an art school. even if you cant get into an animation school specifically, any art school at all is better than none when it comes to animation (I think, idk for sure i'm not interested in animation as a job. my friend is tho so maybe I'll ask him)

now, HOW is art school? WELL. I've heard this isn't uncommon, but the first year was literally actual torture. it was really really bad. it made me more suicidal than I'd been since I was 12 and it ALSO made me start cutting for the first time ever. but I survived it, and the second year was way better! (if still stressful) the first year is for where they try to kill you, and the second year is where they go "haha just kidding ok lets get into what you want to know" at least that's how it is at where I am.

DESPITE the pain, and despite how even now I'm anxious about going back, I don't regret it at all. I really like my classmates and I love my professors. I love a lot of the work I've done and the skills I've learned. I liked living on campus and being so close to all that Art Stuff, even if i was too tired all the time to ever go out to any of the events.

plus on a more personal level, anywhere is better than living with my parents. so even if it was hellish the first year, i'm at least happy that i got things done and i wasn't wasting away at home with my mom.

hope that answers all your questions :)

#nnstuff #ask #art college

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heartyartichoke · 2 years ago

Text

“Little Beast” by Richard Siken

An all-night barbeque. A dance on the courthouse lawn. The radio aches a little tune that tells the story of what the night is thinking. It’s thinking of love. It’s thinking of stabbing us to death and leaving our bodies in a dumpster. That’s a nice touch, stains in the night, whiskey and kisses for everyone.

Tonight, by the freeway, a man eating fruit pie with a buckknife carves the likeness of his lover’s face into the motel wall. I like him and I want to be like him, my hands no longer an afterthought.

Someone once told me that explaining is an admission of failure. I’m sure you remember, I was on the phone with you, sweetheart.

History repeats itself. Somebody says this. History throws its shadow over the beginning, over the desktop, over the sock drawer with its socks, its hidden letters. History is a little man in a brown suit trying to define a room he is outside of. I know history. There are many names in history but none of them are ours.

He had green eyes, so I wanted to sleep with him green eyes flecked with yellow, dried leaves on the surface of a pool– You could drown in those eyes, I said. The fact of his pulse, the way he pulled his body in, out of shyness or shame or a desire not to disturb the air around him. Everyone could see the way his muscles worked, the way we look like animals, his skin barely keeping him inside. I wanted to take him home and rough him up and get my hands inside him, drive my body into his like a crash test car. I wanted to be wanted and he was very beautiful, kissed with his eyes closed, and only felt good while moving. You could drown in those eyes, I said, so it’s summer, so it’s suicide, so we’re helpless in sleep and struggling at the bottom of the pool.

It wasn’t until we were well past the middle of it that we realized the old dull pain, whose stitched wrists and clammy fingers, far from being subverted, had only slipped underneath us, freshly scrubbed. Mirrors and shop windows returned our faces to us, replete with the tight lips and the eyes that remained eyes and not the doorways we had hoped for. His wounds healed, the skin a bit thicker than before, scars like train tracks on his arms and on his body underneath his shirt.

We still groped for each other on the backstairs or in parked cars as the roads around us grew glossy with ice and our breath softened the view through a glass already laced with frost, but more frequently I was finding myself sleepless, and he was running out of lullabies. But damn if there isn’t anything sexier than a slender boy with a handgun, a fast car, a bottle of pills.

What would you like? I’d like my money’s worth. Try explaining a life bundled with episodes of this— swallowing mud, swallowing glass, the smell of blood on the first four knuckles. We pull our boots on with both hands but we can’t punch ourselves awake and all I can do is stand on the curb and say Sorry about the blood in your mouth. I wish it was mine.

I couldn’t get the boy to kill me, but I wore his jacket for the longest time.

#poetry

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renee-writer · 1 year ago

Text

Loved Her First Chapter 107

AO3

“I would feel better if I could go with her.” He confesses to Auntie Claire.

He understandably frets over Faith traveling pregnant. She feels some of the same trepidation herself.

“Maybe you can.” She says as it comes to her head. Crazy, she thinks right after the words leave her mouth. Ian comes from Jamie’s side and he can’t travel. “Sorry. That was…”

“A grand idea.” Her nephew and son-in-law lights up. He begins to pace around her surgery. “As Mercy is in danger, it is best I be there anyway. “

“That may be true but…”

“I ken that I may not be able to but, it is worth a try. That can’t hurt.”

“No,” she admits, “it can’t. The time, it will be something outside your experience. Vastly outside it.”

He waves this off. “If Mercy can handle it, I can.”

Jamie and Claire take them to the Stones. She bites at her lip and he drums on his thigh as they approach it. Their other children, brothers, sisters, and all the bairns had said goodbye that morning.

“You go make sure Mercy is alright.” Hope said, holding her papa tight.

“And take care of Mama.” Grace added.

Both promises will be easily kept if he can travel. His uncle and auntie wait with baited breath.

They approach the Stones and, with one look back, touch them and disappear.

“Joe?” He is startled to see Faith and even more so to see the man with her, “this is Ian Murray, my husband. What has happened with Mercy?”

They headed straight to Joe’s after Ian came to. The trip, despite his wife and auntie’s warnings, took the wind and all awareness straight out of him. The sight of his first car, not to mention, the ride, almost had him going under again. It is only the thought of Mercy that keeps him focused.

Now they stand at the door of Joe’s demanding to know what has happened to her.

“Forgive my wife and I, good sir. It is just we have traveled quite a distance to see to her.”

Joe shakes himself. He has no idea how they found out, three hundred years in the past, but, they are here and need answers. His own can wait.

“Please come in.” They follow him inside where Ian gets his first look at a modern home. “Have a seat. Can I get you anything? Whisky, Mr. Murray?” The man looks frazzled. He imagines a trip through time would do that.

“Aye please.”

“Water or tea for you Faith?” he sees she is in a delicate condition.

“Water would be wonderful.”

After fetching the refreshments, he takes a seat across from them. “I won’t ask, yet, how you knew. Let me just tell you what we know.” He starts with Adam��s strange obsession, the stalking, the steps David took to keep her safe, the disappearance,” The police found lots of pictures of her in his dorm, pictures of David with his face blacked out. They are taken it seriously.”

Faith sits, water glass clinched in her hands, shaking her head. “I knew something was wrong.”

Her husband, “I will kill him! String him up, cover him with honey and let the animals take care of his corpse.” He takes another big gulp of the whisky.

“I understand your feelings. The police are doing all they can to find her.”

“We need to speak with David.” Faith, though shaken, is calmer then her husband. She places one hand on his arm.

“Of course. I will call him.”

#my writing #outlander fanfic #omgbarbiegurls and I 's #loved her first #chapter 107 #jamie and claire #cannon divergence #outlander fandom

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audiovisualrecall · 4 months ago

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I love when I'm trying to write a comment to argue against an idiot insisting pet cats need to free-roam (unique to pet cats, since dogs don't need this!) But then Facebook decided to just glitch out in the middle and go to the next fucking video instead. I'm ANGRY. People are so enamored with this misconception that it's GOOD for pet cats to free-roam. They were like 'if you don't live somewhere your cat can free roam then you shouldn't have a cat' that's the most fucked up bullshit I've ever heard. It's bad for the pet, it's bad for other animals, it's bad for their people because they bring home diseases like toxoplasmosis, it's bad for the environment, it's bad for other people with other pets. Pet cats kill for fun, lots of birds are endangered or even extinct because of pet cats free roaming. Rosming cats fight, spreading diseases and resulting in injuries as well. Pet cats are a prey species as much as predator and are also at risk from hawks and eagles, wolves, coyotes, mountain lions, foxes, and/or raccoons, gators, crocs, stray dogs, etc etc etc like no matter where you live there is Something that wants to eat your cat. Most areas cars and trucks are also a threat to cats' safety/lives, as are things like poison set out for rats or mice (directly or by eating a poisoned rodent!), deliberate harm from other humans who dislike cats or otherwise want to harm them, and various other dangers to the cat's health. Roaming cats are in constant potential danger they should Not have to be in because they are PETS. they also cause harm to the health of other cats, people, birds, and the environment in other ways becasue they are PETS and thus invasive tbh.

People walking around believing that bullshit that PET cats need to free roam pisses me off and stresses me out. Like. This is something which NO other PET animal NEEDS or is like. magically entitled to - dogs are not allowed to free roam, they get walked on a fucking leash, or you install a garden fence that can keep them contained in your garden (preferably while supervised, for cats at least), or for cats you can also make a Catio. Dogs can be off leash outdoors in dog parks, they can also be off leash in other safe spaces if recall-trained, and even that is a topic with a lot of bickering over it. But people also train their dogs, or at least used to, if they wanted to have them off-leash anyway elsewhere. Because the threat to the dog and to others is not worth it. Like, a sheepdog is not on a leash because they are trained and they are doing a job. A free-roaming cat is not comparable. A dog that trots alongside its owner leash less, or a dog that goes and picks up your order at the deli for you (had a neighbor who did this. that dog was on a mission and did not even look at a single squirrel or anything) or a dog that runs in an enclosed park, or on your property while you are nearby able to recall it, is not in any way remotely comparable to allowing a pet cat to free-roam.

Grrrrr I wish I could have just posted that damn comment. I wish I could shake these people by the shoulders and change their minds !!!!!! How many cats have they killed with their attitude? How many birds have their pet cats killed for fun?

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ancestorsofjudah · 1 year ago

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1 Kings 21: 1-10. "The Goblin's Hand."

Introducing Naboth, which means, "having seen, prophesy." Naboth has a vineyard, the entry point of civilization into the savage world. The combination of the two means "having seen the vineyard, obtain Shabbat."

The alternative is to go to Kiev or Damascus or just about anyplace in Iraq and look at all the dry wall, cement blocks, burnt cars, twisted metal and say "praise Jesus!" which no one sane would do.

Naboth’s Vineyard

21 Some time later there was an incident involving a vineyard belonging to Naboth the Jezreelite. The vineyard was in Jezreel, close to the palace of Ahab king of Samaria.

2 Ahab said to Naboth, “Let me have your vineyard to use for a vegetable garden, since it is close to my palace. In exchange I will give you a better vineyard or, if you prefer, I will pay you whatever it is worth.”

3 But Naboth replied, “The Lord forbid that I should give you the inheritance of my ancestors.”

4 So Ahab went home, sullen and angry because Naboth the Jezreelite had said, “I will not give you the inheritance of my ancestors.” He lay on his bed sulking and refused to eat.

5 His wife Jezebel came in and asked him, “Why are you so sullen? Why won’t you eat?”

6 He answered her, “Because I said to Naboth the Jezreelite, ‘Sell me your vineyard; or if you prefer, I will give you another vineyard in its place.’ But he said, ‘I will not give you my vineyard.’”

7 Jezebel his wife said, “Is this how you act as king over Israel? Get up and eat! Cheer up. I’ll get you the vineyard of Naboth the Jezreelite.”

8 So she wrote letters in Ahab’s name, placed his seal on them, and sent them to the elders and nobles who lived in Naboth’s city with him.

9 In those letters she wrote:

“Proclaim a day of fasting and seat Naboth in a prominent place among the people. 10 But seat two scoundrels opposite him and have them bring charges that he has cursed both God and the king. Then take him out and stone him to death.”

Jezebel is at it again! Compare Jezebel "unwanted" to Jezreel, "scatter in abundance." One is bad counsel, the other evangelizes the virtues of the vineyard.

Why did Ahab want to own a vegetable garden when he could have simply gone and either purchased wine from Naboth or farmed carrots and turnips somewhere else? Why did Ahab covet and for such strange purposes?

And why "some time later"? This refers to "let us make man in our image" which took place towards the end of the Seven Days in Genesis 1:26:

"Then God said, “Let us make mankind in our image, in our likeness, so that they may rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky, over the livestock and all the wild animals,[a] and over all the creatures that move along the ground.”

Except Ahab didn't want to fully become a man, he wanted to backslide and be the veggie walla. For verse 2 the Number is 15245, י״הב‎ד‎ה, Y'hbda, "yahabda" = "God brings us closer to understanding."

in v. 3 Naboth says he wants the vineyard, a symbol of civilization, to stay where it is. The value is 4423, דדבג‎, dadbag, "the words bring strength to the pasture."

v. 4: Ahab pouts. The Gematria say this is 9890, טחטאֶפֶס‎, "A blackboard" which means "esotericism from above."

Ahab refuses to eat, meaning he is up shit's creek because without proper desires which feed a proper appetite, his mind is going to stall out, exactly where it is and remain a victim of his whore of a wife:

v. 5 says Ahab had "Fear of a clenched fist", 16459, י״ודהט, yodhat.

The clenched fist is the "goblin's hand" that reaches into a jar, trying to grasp all of the pickles and gets trapped. I hate it when that happens.

v. 6-7. The Number is 15409, י״הד אֶפֶסט, "the 10th Epaphust." The Tenth Measurement of Death in Judaism is the taking of the First Born for slavery. When God killed the firstborn of Egypt it was to prevent an entire generation from repeating the sins of the parents. Jezebel is about to promote the practice by stealing something important from another to give to her spoiled decadent husband, upsetting the chain of ownership of the prosperity of the vineyard.

We are witnessing this happen every day as the Chinese, Russians, Syrians, Americans, Africans, Arabs and others take time, land, produce, soil, freedom, lives, and energy that do not belong to them. Lord knows when they will give it back.

My favorite is that brontosaurus in a bathrobe, Muhammad Bin Salman.

v. 9-10: The Number is 10257, יבהז‎‎, "Scorned". The word for scorn in Hebrew is micchaq, or "what does the law say?"

"Do not covet."

The Day of Fasting is during the Day of Atonement, which Jezebel is clearly not intending to do.

The two scoundrels are 4983, דטחג‎, dtahg, "understanding of the brotherhood that is leading the way to sin" = Adam and Eve. Surely, Ahab is Adam and Jezebel is Eve, and she is leading him to the theft of a garden that he intends to repurpose for a devolved series of purposes.

Instead of stretching forth his hand, and placing his finger on a passage of the Torah, Ahab sticks it into a pickle jar, cutting mankind off from a destiny greater than the one it had before. We see this happening all around us, every day.

Jezebel starts things off by suggesting the King stone the owner of the vineyard to death. Her plan has a Number of 3648, גו‎דח‎ gudah, gu'ada. which means, "advance and show the world how it, or you have advanced by calling a town meeting in order to display your fancy clothes."

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kholran · 1 year ago

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All of this. In addition to everything mentioned above, one of the most common side effects of declawing is a cat who doesn't use (or consistently use) the litter box. Back when I worked at the only local 'no-kill' shelter, we'd get a lot of people calling to surrender their pets, for just about every reason imaginable. Some more valid than others (I seriously had one person try to surrender their 14 year old dog because it no longer matched the furniture. I very nearly committed a crime that day.) Anyway, a frequently given reason for cat surrenders was "not using the litter box". And I would say 8 or 9 times out of 10, when you asked them if the cat was declawed, the answer was "yes". Big shocker, when you amputate toes and then bring the cat home (often with limited or no pain medication), and then said cat digs in a litter box full of tiny gritty bits, it fucking HURTS. So declawed cats will often develop pain-aversion behaviour, and choose to do their business somewhere more comfortable. Like the carpet, or a laundry basket full of clean towels, or the middle of your bed. Story time! I had a declawed cat. No, I didn't do it. I got this cat because her previous "owner" saw fit to drive up to the park next to our farm, open his car door, and throw her out into the woods before driving off. Luckily I witnessed this happen, and was quickly able to tell someone who went out and got her before anything bad happened. Through a not so surprising series of events, this cat ended up coming home with me that day. And I can say for a fact, without any doubt, that she was traumatized. Not only because of being dumped, but because of being declawed. For the first few weeks, she hid under a chair and barely came out to eat or drink. While she was under that chair, she would lash out and attack passing feet, which earned her the name Ninja (she was also black). Even after she gained the confidence to come out from under the chair, she would lash out at the slightest provocation. She growled almost non-stop, and bit when touched (biting is another common side effect of declawing, because the cats are very aware that their first line of defense is gone). She would swat at my other cats in a "you can't get me if I get you first!" kind of way. And of course, she peed on the carpet instead of the litter box. Now I'm not the type of person to give up on an animal once it's in my care. We ended up pulling up all the carpet, and putting puppy pads down in the places she used. She never stopped lashing out at us, even after 15 years. But underneath all that insecurity? There was a loving cat. In the quiet times, when she was comfortable enough to sit next to us and allow gentle petting, she'd purr and lean against our legs. It absolutely killed me to think of how wonderful and affectionate she could have been if they hadn't declawed her and made her so horribly anxious and defensive that she could barely function. You could tell that she desperately wanted affection sometimes, but she was too scared to accept it without lashing out. The only time I ever really got to hold her and show her the affection she wanted and needed was when she died in my arms at 16 years old. If she hadn't been declawed, she would have been a completely different cat. Affectionate, outgoing, and confident. Instead, she was anxious and volatile. Don't declaw your cats unless a medical emergency deems it absolutely necessary. The furniture isn't worth the physical and mental trauma you'll inflict on your cat.

ETA after reading some of the notes:

Yes, a lot of vets are still pro-declawing. Many will still offer it right alongside spay/neuter as just something you do. And the reason for that is that it makes them a LOT of money. I haven't checked the statistics recently, but the last time I did, declawing was the most profitable elective procedure for vet practices. So a lot of them will downplay the (many MANY) negative side effects and try to push owners to do it by saying things like "if you do it when they're young enough, it won't cause problems" or "there are a lot of causes of litter box disuse, we can't say for sure it's this". All of it is bullshit, and they're just trying to make money.

From my experience, just using nail trimmers and clipping a cat's claws does not make them more prone to biting (unless they hate it and bite your fingers while you're trying to do it). Be careful not to trim too close to the quick, and if possible, acclimate cats to having regular claw trims when they're still kittens. But at least in my own personal experience (currently, 10 clawed cats who get their nails trimmed), there is no increase in biting behaviour outside of the two minutes it takes me to get it done (particularly the cats who came to me as strays and had to learn to tolerate it when they were no longer kittens). Definitely not the same increase in biting as an every-day defense that we see in declawed cats. So don't be afraid to trim your cat's claws on a regular basis!

I been talking to a lot of ppl w cats lately (I volunteer at an animal shelter) and I didn’t know this needed to be said but

PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD DO NOT DECLAW YOUR CAT.

Declawing sounds very normal to people who aren’t educated on it so let me show you what it actually is.

As you might notice from the diagram, the claw is attached to a small bone at the very end of a cat’s paw. They are fused to this bone, which on a human hand would be where your last knuckle is (the one right before your nail). When someone gets a cat declawed, they aren’t just removing the claw.

The entire last digit of the cat’s paw is removed. (See below)

This severely impedes the cat’s ability to balance itself, is extremely painful for them, and can make the cat extremely aggressive because it no longer has one of its main defense mechanisms! It can also cause many other medical issues down the line including infection, necrosis, and some cats are never able to walk correctly again. Most cats that have this done never fully recover from the procedure and are in constant chronic pain.

It is extremely inhumane and is illegal in only two states at the time I’m writing this!!!! (Maryland and New York) Cats should only have this procedure if it is a life or death situation, never just because someone finds a cat being a cat inconvenient for them. Don’t get a cat if you don’t want to be scratched or have some ruined furniture. If you want more information on this topic, I’d recommend Jackson Galaxy’s YouTube video on it, and to read up on some articles I will link in the comments.

I know I don’t usually post about these types of things, but it’s made me extremely angry to hear people mention getting their cats declawed so flippantly as if it doesn’t ruin the cat’s life, and always for an asinine reason like “they scratched my couch” or “they scratch my kids” THOSE ARE YOUR RESPONSIBILITIES AS A CAT OWNER. Treat your kids and peers to treat animals with respect, or don’t get a cat.

#cats #declawing #just don't do it #i have gone off on family/friends #who have said they were considering it #this is the hill i will die on #if you do this to your cat #you are a shitty owner

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foggyghostx · 1 year ago

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dead on the street

I severely dread grocery shopping. It reminds me of how I am a living being that must take care of itself. Even when my mind is clear as can be (which, frankly, isn't very), grocery shopping generates so many useless thoughts that don't stop bouncing around my skull like pissed off ping pong balls. That's too many calories. That's not enough protein. You can't justify that much money, you'll never even eat it. That expires in less than two weeks, it'll kill you. Those people just watched you stare at sliced cheese for five and a half minutes. Why don't you just get the same thing as always? You're sick of it already? Of course you are. Don't get that, you won't even cook it. You hate cooking. No, you won't cook it, and you know that. You're too lazy. No chips. No chocolate. You can't spend $6 on a gallon of iced coffee, but you can spend $10 a day each morning at Dunkin'. No, you won't eat that. Go ahead, put it in your basket, it'll sit in the fridge for the next eight months. And so on.

I left Target with less money and somehow even less confidence. A wave of utter upset hit me as I sat in my car. But drive I must.

The drive down a smooth road rimmed with foliage and the sound of my current favorite songs wash away the upset for a few minutes. Up ahead on the bend, I see a bird flutter down from the greenery, and swoop under the car about 30 yards ahead of me. The car does not break or swerve, as they probably didn't even see it. But then the car passed, and left behind was the bird. Belly-up. Flapping its wings but getting nowhere. Suddenly, seconds turned to minutes. There were no oncoming cars, so I respectfully drove around the victim. I moved back to the right side of the road, and slowed, looking wide-eyed into my rear-view mirror. There it was, still laying on its back, flapping its wings. I slowed more, and started to pull off the road. But within seconds, I made the decision not to stop.

I continued driving. In just one second, I thought of all my options. If I pull off, it might be dangerous for me. I'm clumsy, and I don't trust other drivers not to hit me. If I picked it up, I couldn't take it home. I'd want to. But there's nothing there for the bird, its late in the evening, and I can't afford a vet bill, and I have no idea how to care for it. I could put it on the side of the road. But it's already got one wing in the grave. The chances of a predator coming for it are higher than ever. If it doesn't die from the complications of the impact, a larger animal is sure to eat it. And I feared I would end up sitting on the side of the road with this bird for the rest of its life. I would, if I could. If I could abandon all reason I'd run off with the bird, heal it, and live in the woods with it. But I'm going 40 miles per hour down a two lane road with no shoulder or side walk. So I keep driving.

And to think, I get so worked up about grocery shopping. If that bird's life was so precious, I would have helped it. If my life weren't so precious, I'd leave it. If we were equals, there would be no hypotheticals. Hours later, I'm still wondering who's life is worth more: a robin that was hit by a car, or a 21-year-old teenager that can't figure out how to take care of herself.

#writing #my writing #my diary #journal #diary #digital diary #creative writing #alternative #writers #write #mental health

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keigh0e · 2 years ago

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♥ Keigh0e’s Giant List of Prompts ♥

Hi guys, below is a list of prompts you can send me and I’ll write something from that (if you want a specific plot, just let me know) for any character you’d like. I’ll write fluff, smut, angst, etc.

Anime’s I write for include:

My Hero Academia

Jujutsu Kaisen

Chainsaw Man

Fire Force

Attack On Titan

Bleach

Fairy Tail

Pretty much most animes, there’s too many for me to list here

“I can’t do this without you.”

“Don’t let go of my hand through this, please.”

“If you walk away everything will fall apart.”

“All I want is your lips against mine right now.”

“It wasn’t just a one off for me; it was me hoping you’d see the connection.”

“We’ve been through everything else together. This is no different.”

“You’re my other half.”

“There’s no one else I’d rather have with me than you.”

“You need to help me, I can’t do this alone.”

“I’ve never felt alone since you came into my life.”

“What am I supposed to do if you walk away?”

“This distance is killing me.”

“Don’t let this distance tear us apart.”

“I need you as much as you need me.”

“Letting go was never an option.”

“All the time did was make me realize that you’re supposed to be with me.”

“I’ve made so many mistakes, but you’re not one of them.”

“I need you to help me reach the top shelf.”

“Two people aren’t this made for each other so easily.”

“You’re worth any fight.”

“I’m crying on the floor and nothing’s right, but I know you can make this better.”

“I’m way too drunk to be driving, so I was gonna walk home– stay on the phone with me, okay?”

“There’s this couple’s contest, and I know we’re not dating, but the grand prize is this big ass load of food– help me.”

“It doesn’t matter if you need me; you broke everything.”

“Everything’s really shitty right now. So how about you get in this car with me and we drive to wherever for however long?”

“I’ll go if you go.”

“I’ll only do this if you help me.”

“I can’t depend on anyone else, just you.”

“Thank you for always being here for me.”

“You could call be at any time and I’d drop anything if you needed me.”

“All you have to do is show me that you feel the same.”

“I know that I need you, but sometimes the feeling doesn’t seem reciprocated.”

“I’m pathetic, because I go to you for everything, but you’d pick someone over me any day.”

“Can you give me a ride?”

“I didn’t tell anyone else I was leaving… You deserved to know though.”

“I’ll still be here when you get back.”

“Isn’t in terrifying that we both couldn’t go without the other?”

“This ring proves that I’m always here for you.”

“Come here, let me give you a hug.”

“My date stood me up, can you come with me to egg his/her car?”

“My date stood me up, can you come pick me up?”

“The lights don’t shine as bright when you’re not here.”

“I can’t deal with us drifting apart anymore.”

“I feel like I’m gripping with all my might and you’re not even lifting a finger.”

“My friend locked me outside naked. Help.”

“My friend needs to see I’m dating someone so they’ll stop including me in blind dates–yes, I know we’re not dating, but still.”

“I don’t call you my partner in crime for no reason.”

“Can you come over so I don’t feel so alone anymore?”

“You ran to get here this quickly?!”

“I need you.”

“Just give me a reason to come back.”

“You’re not good for me.”

“How come I can’t let go of you?”

“I never forgot.”

“I had to get new bedding because I couldn’t lay in it without you there.”

“It was never your fault.”

“I never wanted things to end.”

“Our song came on and I needed to talk to you after hearing it.”

“You’re still in my dreams.”

“Did you move on?”

“I’ve tried to move on, but no one is you.”

“The song was about you.”

“Do I look like I’ve moved on?”

“I shouldn’t want the elevator to stall, but at least it would keep you here.”

“I’ll wait at our restaurant ‘til closing time. If you don’t go then I’ll stop trying.”

“No one will suit you like I did.”

“He/She didn’t answer any of the calls or texts.”

“Did he/she say anything about me?”

“If this is the last time I see you, know I love you more than anything.”

“My parents asked about you.”

“How am I supposed to let go?”

“He/She posted a picture with another guy/girl on Instagram.”

“I need to go fix what I had with him/her.”

“It’s been months, but it’s still you.”

“Give me another chance.”

“All the memories replay in my head so often.”

“Do you ever think of me?”

“I was lying… I knew you’d be at this party, that’s why I came.”

“So you’re seeing someone new?”

“I’d give up so much to have another chance.”

“What happened to us?”

“I don’t remember a fight, or a reason, so what happened? Why did we break up?”

“My friends keep telling me to get over you.”

“My friends kept telling me to fix things with you.”

“I didn’t know you’d be here… He must’ve set this up. Us meeting again.”

“You’re still as beautiful as I remember.”

“Can I buy you a coffee? For old time’s sake.”

“You always were a bit clumsy… How about I help you get home?”

“I’m just trying to find reasons to keep us talking, honestly.”

“I miss you.”

“I didn’t want it to end, but I thought you’d be better off.”

“I haven’t gone to that diner since we broke up.”

“I found way too many break up playlists since it all ended…”

“Hey… I can’t believe you actually answered.”

“H-How have you been?”

“You sent so many drunk texts… I had to come over and make sure you were okay.”

“It was all my fault. Every piece of it. Why do you blame yourself?”

“Apparently you left this sweater at my place all that time ago… I could’ve got a friend to give it to you, I guess, but… I don’t know. I just came without thinking.”

“We were so good.”

“No! I-… I’m… I’m not dating him/her. I can’t. It wouldn’t be fair.”

“No, don’t do that it’s not safe.”

“You’re scared of that, aren’t you?”

“Don’t touch her/him!”

“It’s cute that you tried to protect me and all, but you’re like a foot shorter than me, you know?”

“I will always step in between you and something like that.”

“Why? Because I don’t want you to get hurt, that’s why!”

“Do you think just because my feet don’t touch the bottom of the pool that I need a floatie?”

“The stepping stool is unecessary.”

“I’m not apologizing for what I said to that asshole/jerk… He/she was saying terrible things about you.”

“If you say another word about her/him, you’ll regret it.”

“I don’t want to put you in that type of environment.”

“Make sure to tell me if you get worried, or nervous, or claustrophobic, or-”

“You could have been hurt.”

“I indirected him/her on Twitter for your honor.”

“I think you should leave this type of thing to me.”

“I’m gonna protect you.”

“You can hold onto me if you’re scared, you know?”

“I’m not leaving you alone. Not now, not ever.”

“Let’s all watch a different movie. This one freaks her/him out.”

“I get where you’re coming from dude, but honestly shut the hell up and don’t talk about her/him that way.”

“She/He isn’t an object.”

“She/he told me what you did, and all I’m gonna do is tell you to stay away.”

“You don’t know anything about her/him!”

“What? You think that was funny? You just insulter her/him, and expect me to laugh?”

“I’m not gonna let you put up with that.”

“Really, if you told me to I’d go punch them for you.”

“Wait, let me walk you home.”

“I’ll drive you, please– please don’t go like this.”

“It’s dangerous.”

“I’m worried about you.”

“I meant it when I said I would protect you.”

“I’m not stepping aside until you back up.”

“It’s too cold for you to come out here without a jacket on.”

“I’ll go see what the noise was.”

“Stay on the phone with me.”

“Promise me you’ll be safe.”

“I don’t feel comfortable with you going there on your own.”

“He/She did what to you?”

“I won’t let you go through something like that again.”

“I’m not perfect, but I’m trying my hardest to do everything to keep you safe.”

“Stay behind me.”

“I promised your mom to make sure you didn’t do anything stupid tonight.”

“I love you. Of course I’m gonna defend you like that.”

“No, he/she isn’t good enough to take you out. Trust me, I know.”

“Are you planning to stay glued to my side this whole evening?”

“I’ll be okay, because I know you’re back here ready to step in if I need you.”

“Thank you for always sticking with me.”

“I’m really worried about her/him, but I don’t think he/she wants me to call.”

“I don’t know what I would do if something happened to you.”

“Like, I don’t expect to ever have to take a bullet for you, but I would.”

“It never works for us, and it never will.”

“I’m done. I’m done trying so hard only for you to never even look in my direction.”

“I can’t fall in love with you. I don’t want all the pain that comes with it.”

“My roommate had to go into my room and throw the sheets away because I haven’t been able to sleep in that bed since you left.”

“I keep asking myself “why isn’t the sun bright anymore” but then I remember you’re not in my life anymore and realize it’s just my own eyes.”

“I regret it all. I really do, I swear. Please, please– let’s fix this, please.”

“Remember when you promised we’d always be together? Because I remember when I thought you meant it.”

“I can’t move on from something that wasn’t supposed to end!”

“The phone calls aren’t the same… I can hear in your voice that it’s not the same anymore.”

“I’m trying to avoid talking because I know what it’ll lead to, and I don’t want that to come.”

“Don’t you think you can fall back in love with me?”

“This whole time I’ve been using you to make me feel better, and you never caught on. You never caught on. I want you to hate me now, but I don’t think you’re even able to.”

“Kissing me breaks the promise… remember?”

“Every time we fix things something else ends up breaking.”

“Why don’t we stop pretending we’re not on a road to destruction?”

“It wasn’t even fun at first, honestly. It was just like… Morphine.”

“You’re just not enough anymore.”

“It’s been too long since you’ve really smiled.”

“Ah, it was all my fault. Wasn’t it?”

“To think, we thought just the sex would be enough to keep us in love.”

“Back then, I lied when I told you I didn’t love you. You needed to move on from me– I needed to protect you from me.”

“You never had that shine in your eyes when you were with me.”

“Quit trying to fix me when you need to just fix yourself.”

“I’m so tired of everything about us, and about how we thought we were in love, and how we think forcing it can make us be in love– I’m so tired of it.”

“This whole time you’ve still been in love with him/her… Not me.”

“I couldn’t make you fall in love with me. I thought I could do it, I really did, but… But I know you… And this isn’t love.”

“Did you really think I needed that kiss back then when all that you conveyed in it was pity?”

“To think I’ve changed so much to get you to like me, and you still never really look my way.”

“I know I deserve better than you. I realize that, but you were so broken… I didn’t want to be the one that made you shatter.”

“All of this was to protect myself.”

“I feel like I’ve been looking for who you used to be… Back when you were actually happy.”

“I never want to even hear your name during my life anymore.”

“Your lips used to be sanctuary, but now I just feel trapped.”

“Isn’t it time we both stopped pretending we make each other happy?”

“The thing I regret the most is giving you so much hope by agreeing to this date.”

“We have the kind of history anyone would never want to think about again, and you’re hear asking me on a date?”

“What makes you think I’ll be any different this time?”

“I’ll let you down. I will always let you down. I’m not enough for you to be satisfied.”

“Are you satisfied with the mess you’ve created out of me?”

“I should have listened to everyone who told me this was a bad idea.”

“I’ve never met someone who can so gently destroy me the way you do.”

“I can’t forget about him/her! It’s not in my power to forget how he/she felt when they loved me.”

“The saddest thing is that when I told him/her I loved him/her, he/she thought I was lying. He/she never believed someone could fall in love with him/her.”

“Listen… You’re his/her best friend… and I completely fucked up– it’s over between us, but… please, punch me, or punish me, or do something to me because he/she just… cried. He/she wasn’t even angry, they were just so sad– Please, be angry at me, please. Give me what I deserve.”

“It would have been better if we never met.”

“You’re my regret.”

“I’m not angry at you, just at myself… Because I knew this would happen, but I let myself fall in love with you anyways.”

“Don’t tell me to give up like everything is meaningless.”

“This is why I don’t let myself fall in love.”

“Somewhere deep inside me, I still have hope that you’ll fall in love. How pathetic.”

“I like the way your hand fits in mine.”

“You have something in your hair, umm… Do you want me to get it out?”

“It’s nice that your voice was the first thing I heard today.”

“You can call me whenever you want… Even if you don’t have a reason to.”

“I’m bad at texting first, so I always end up hoping you will.”

“This movie is really scary, but you’re into it so I’m trying not to cover my face the whole time, but- WHAT IS THAT?”

“Wait, don’t pull away… Not yet.”

“You look really cute in that sweater.”

“Half the time I get too embarrassed to say anything.”

“No, it’s fine. I can wait until you’re done talking to them.”

“No, like…. It’s just, I can’t believe you’re actually wearing my clothes.”

“You’re a big piece of inspiration for this, honestly.”

“God, you always make me blush so damn much.”

“I’ve been trying to get ready for like an hour and a half, because I know you’re going to look so good and I need to try and match up.”

“Would it be too cliche if we matched clothes a little?”

“First second I saw you and I couldn’t get over how beautiful you were.”

“I wanted to say “I love you” for the first time without stuttering, but that failed.”

“Could you hold my hand?”

“You can’t leave without letting me hug you first.”

“I really love holding you, darling.”

“That pet name was so gushy, but it was also so cute.”

“Aw, you’re blushing like a rose.”

“Your lips are really warm.”

“I can’t get over how a few months ago I wanted to learn your name and now you’re having breakfast with me in my sweater.”

“No, mom, don’t tell him/her I said that about him/her!”

“My friends get so annoyed by how much I talk about how sometimes.”

“Wanna, like– I mean, if you’re not busy… We could get lunch? Or even just coffee if you don’t have a lot of time?”

“Wow, I didn’t think you could make me smile this big.”

“You don’t need to leave so soon.”

“You look so comfy, and cuddle-able.”

“Quit smiling at me, I can’t stop messing up my sentences when you look at me like that.”

“You’re hiding under the blanket because you’re blushing?”

“You make me so happy.”

“Don’t give me that puppy dog face. How am I supposed to say no to that?”

“You made these cupcakes for me?”

“I look forward to holding you close in bed soon.”

“Let’s share my coat, since you’re so cold.”

“I can’t believe I got the first date, let alone a year.”

“You make me feel so damn gushy.”

“How do you always manage to look so captivating?”

“Would you mind if I kissed you?”

“Are you sugar personified or something?”

“I know I’ve kissed you like, ten times, but just like another ten, please.”

“You’re the perfect height for me to rest my chin on your head.”

“I would’ve had breakfast ready, but you were sleeping on my arm, and I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Is it cold outside or are you just blushing?”

“Yeah… Huh? Oh, sorry I was just thinking about my girl/boyfriend.”

“I’m so in love with her/him, I don’t know what do do.”

“I remember practicing how to ask you out to the mirror.”

Writer’s choice

“You’ve been pouting ever since I went out on that date, what’s up?”

“We always share blankets on the couch, I’m sure sharing the bed for the night is fine too.”

“Your lips are getting really close to mine.”

“I’m not jealous, but, like, come on, movie night is just for me and you only.”

“I dare you to kiss me.”

“No, go on the Ferris Wheel with me, not them.”

“You can share my jacket with me, since you’re shivering.”

“Why is your hand on my ass?”

“Cuddle with me.”

“I just kissed your forehead, chill.”

“Shit, how’d you make me blush like this?”

“Are you trying to turn me on?”

“Let’s hang out, but I’ll pay for everything, and we can go to this fancy restaurant– No, not a date.”

“Okay, I guess this is a date, actually.”

“Stop with the tongue thing, it’s strangely attractive.”

“I keep telling them we’re not dating, but they keep telling me friends don’t normally make out when drunk.”

“I don’t want to be friends with benefits, but I do want something more, I just can’t figure out what.”

“When did you get so beautiful?”

“If you’re going to dress like that, I’m not going to let you out of my sight.”

“Their pick-up line wasn’t as good as any of mine, I’m just saying.”

“No, I don’t know how I got a boner, It just kind of happened! It’s because of how you were eating that ice cream, I bet!”

“I’m holding your hand because the movie is scary, alright? It’s a… Terrifying… Rom-com… ….. .”

“Why’d you let go of me?”

“I accidentally called you my girlfriend/boyfriend today.”

“I kissed you because we were drunk.”

“I kissed you because I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Could you not talk to him/her, please? I think they’re trying to date you.”

“I wish we could stay like this forever…”

“I had this dream where we were dating.”

“I had this dream where you kissed me, and I kind of want to try it now.”

“Why do you always call me when I’m on a date?”

“No, I can’t hang out, I’m on a date and you know that.”

“Okay, maybe I am a bit jealous.”

“Just remember, he/she’s not the one who taught you how to kiss.”

“It’s weird how we’ve been friends for so long, but never went through that ‘crushing’ phase.”

“Maybe I want to kiss you because it’s cold and about to be cuddle season.”

“I say this a lot, but, look, they’re not good enough for you.”

“You’re always wrapping your arms around me in lines.”

“I was listening to that love song, and you came to mind. Weird, right?”

“You know this voucher only works for couples, right?”

“Are you implying that you want to kiss me?”

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You’re blushing so hard, all I did was say “I love you” in French.”

“I could get used to waking up next to you, actually.”

“Right… Well… I’m not sure how we ended up kissing like that…”

“I’m personally offended that you didn’t get me to be your fake date.”

“We would make a pretty good couple.”

“The date didn’t go well. Yeah, she/he didn’t like how I kept mentioning all of our adventures.”

“How come I always end up calling you when I can’t fall asleep?”

“Sometimes i feel like i wanna make out with you is that a friend thing to do?”

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