I am in fact writing a collection of four noir novellas based on this song. Good Luck.
It’s gonna be two queer stories and two het stories. MLM, Het(female Killer), WLW, Het(Male Killer). Want to know more?
9 notes
·
View notes
"Punch my face, do it 'cause I like the pain
Every time you curse my name
I know you want the satisfaction, it's not gonna happen
Knock me out, kick me when I'm on the ground
It's only gonna let you down
Come the lightning and the thunder
You're the one who'll suffer, suffer"
7 notes
·
View notes
march writing challenge 2023 - day 11
shuffle your playlist 4 times
I was raised on small back-town streets, bitting my lips and scabbing my knees, and I was born to a hot-tempered father and a cold-blooded mother, on a rainy wednesday in spring.
I was raised on the ocean, sand in my socks and salt in my hair, and I grew up alone. I only said goodbye to my family, and even then, I just left.
As soon as I got a chance, I fled the place where the air always tasted like september, where people came for the sea, but I fled it, seaweed still tangled in my hair, red-rock sand still on the heels of my sneakers.
They dig their heels in, but I pull mine out and hop on the 6:17 train to away. My childhood sticks to me like taffy to fingers, and I can wash my hands of it, but it will always come back, creeping into the eaves of my bedroom, trailing it’s long fingers through my hair.
I cut it, barely above my ears, then shave it, with a drugstore razor in a Chic-Fil-A bathroom. I throw out all my clothes and buy a shitty apartment in a no-name part of New York City.
I grew up knowing who I wanted to be, someone sweet and kind and someone who helped people, who had a household name, and a family, someone who’s house smelled like the ocean and who’s skin was sunkissed and freckled.
I am not that person, but I am grown like I’d dreamed, with a life that’s my own and a body I control, a room that I bought the curtains for. Some days, I feel removed from my child-self, sometimes I am her, a strange, doe-eyed child walking on bowed legs through an unfamiliar city, and I swear I can still smell the hot-pavement, fruit-popsicle scent of the suburbs.
My father would always tell me that I’d grow up great. I wonder if he’d be proud.
2 notes
·
View notes
its funny to me when a cartoon or something has a vague Evil Organization because a lot of fans will instantly decide that there's a whole workplace comedy happening there. those guys can't just be vaguely standing around acting evil all day they've gotta have like an evil break room or something
29K notes
·
View notes
i'm not an alec benjamin stan but i'm not prepared for the future so many things i just don't know i cut my hair bought a new shirt
1 note
·
View note