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closed starter for @southernrays
at the bar, because why not.
sometimes, merrick wondered how life would have been different if the world hadn’t gone to shit.
she was doing well for herself in boston - well enough that her name was on a mega-popular website as a contributor, even if most of her viral hits were simply repurposed memes for the proper audience. she’d never been the ambitious type, had always preferred to just take life as it came and make choices along the way.
the one thing that had always brought her peace was writing. and since the end of the world, she’d been primarily writing to lulu. but now there was confirmation; lulu was dead, and she was never going to read the notebooks full of nonsense merrick had filled up for her. she’d been taking care of ethan in his grief, but had never gotten a chance to take a moment for herself.
sometimes, when she thought about how often she was called ‘selfish’ she wanted to crumble inside. how did no one ever see how much of herself she gave to the world around her?
it was the middle of the day, and maybe the bar wasn’t the best place to be, but she knew it was summer, she knew that their birthdays were coming up, and she didn’t want to be at home. she couldn’t see faces she’d seen her whole life, didn’t want to wallow where they could see her. where they’d know the drop of her smile, the hesitance when asked a question, see the concern in her sister’s face.
she just wanted to drink. the bar was good for that.
ray was behind the bar, as usual, and merrick slid into a barstool with ease, handing over the few tokens she’d kept for herself - most were given to holly, for coffee, or yale, for her own nights at the bar. but she’d squired away a couple, and she needed them now.
“i need to get drunk,” she demanded, eyes hard with feelings she’d never unleash on a near-stranger. “real drunk. please tell me you can do that.”
Did some outfit concepts for the group. Click on the pictures for better quality.
Kind Frenhofer, 2018 - Ray Turner (b. 1958) oil on canvas | source:
I decided to draw some of my Jo ocs in their part’s art styles and these were FUN to do
Slave - Watching You What must i do? To make you know i’m digging you?!
closed starter for @southernrays /
though merrick refrained from drinking more often than not, she’d started spending a predominant amount of time around the bar in the evenings. she blamed it on the fact that there wasn’t anything else to do - but mostly, she was trying to reinstate herself into society. to become a functioning member, she had to be around other ‘functioning’ members. it also gave her a quiet place to write, to work on stories for yale’s paper or her own.
it had happened randomly one evening, merrick demanding a piece of paper from ray out of nowhere. a bubble of an idea bursting out of her, until she’d scratched out in her smallest handwriting the opening pages of....something.
she hadn’t shown it to anyone, yet, but writing was cathartic in a way nothing else was. so she sat herself at the corner of the bar every night, nursing a water, scribbling away a story she wasn’t quite ready to share with the world. a story she needed to get out, one way or another, and when the writers block hit, she bothered ray, or twirled her knives, or played darts with people from town.
tonight, though, the bar was quiet, only a few people around, and merrick had been stuck on the beginning of her next plot for almost two hours. “give me prompts,” she demanded when ray came over to see if she needed something, her knife sticking straight into the countertop from where she’d been twisting it into for the past fifteen minutes. “i’m stuck, and i can’t figure out where to go from here.”
This is supposed to be one of Jack’s polaroids. He likes to take photographs in his spare time, and has a couple of cameras that he brings on tour.
The second picture is a close-up of the image in the polaroid, and if you click on them, you’ll get better quality.