#His sponsee called him while we were walking

[vivalasigh]

my crush (kind of) walked me home from the party and gave me a hug goodbye

[dcbbw]

Sixish Sunday and Update

Hello, Tumblr! Miss me? I know it’s been a (hot mess) minute since I have been around these parts and a lot has happened. (it’s all under the cut)

I quit my job in DC (and worked three full days AFTER my end date because apparently the 11 page spreadsheet, calendar of everything I was responsible for complete with internal deadlines and vendor deadlines and notes, as well as examples of all the things was not clear enough) and packed up my life and made the move to NC.

My cousins moved me because no way was I paying someone $3800 to haul my stuff 300 miles and renting a car. I ended up paying $1300 + meals for the move and got a ride to boot. All I’m gonna say is I got what I paid for; it was a two-seater panel truck and we put a metal folding chair between the seats. We looked like Bonnie, Clyde, and Curly coming down the road, and the passenger door didn’t close properly, so it randomly swung open at inopportune times.

But I made it one piece; my laptop was not as fortunate. It looks like a rusted out Chevy sitting on bricks at the moment but it saved my stuff and I can type, so YAY!

While I am excited about a fresh start here in the Tarheel State (new job starts Tuesday), I am sad to be away from my studio; I lived there for 17 years and swear it’s the home I (emotionally) grew up in. It’s where I rediscovered my love of writing and became family with a building full of strangers. But I am certain I will find that again here.

While I try to maneuver a huge chunk of my life into what used to be my brother’s bedroom, I have found time to jot down thoughts and ideas that will eventually become full-blown stories. I plan to work on Burnsy’s incredibly late birthday fic, answer some asks for SGL, Dramien, JGL, and a writer’s choice ask. I want to follow-up on so many of WIPs and to post my follower appreciation poll.

And on that note, I do have a little somethings to share for Six Sentence Sunday!

From Remixed: The Social Season, Chapter 3:

“I got a text message from Drake,” Bliam said as he tucked his crisp white shirt into silk black trousers. “He says House Beaumont has a sponsee.”

“Did he say which one?” Asiam asked eagerly as Whiam tried unsuccessfully to knot his necktie.

Bliam shook his head negatively. “When I asked, he said he needed a “what the fuck” emoji.”

Asiam looked at Whiam impatiently. “I could have tied this thing three times by now!”

“You had it wrapped around your waist saying it was your belt!” Whiam retorted, his eyes squinted in concentration. “I can get it, it’s just this is harder than it looks.”

“That’s what she said,” Asiam smirked.

“WHY are you like this?” Bliam complained.

“I’ll be happy to get some real food in me,” Whiam commented as he finally looped the cravat.

“I took the liberty of requesting prime rib and yearling potatoes.” Bliam pulled his arms through the sleeves of his tuxedo jacket.

Asiam frowned. “I ordered curried lamb with rice.”

Whiam sat on the edge of his bed, clumsily buttoning his shirt. “I asked for seafood pasta!”

Bliam rolled his eyes. “Can we EVER agree on anything?”

Whiam pulled on his socks. “Madeleine!”

Bliam nodded in agreement. “Amen to that, brother!”

Asiam said nothing, choosing to stare at the ceiling instead. Feeling two pairs of blue eyes staring at him, he gave a loud exhale. “WHAT?”

Whiam shook his head in disapproval. “You didn’t! Did you? I mean, she was engaged to … Leo!”

Asiam ran a comb through his raven locks. “All I’m going to say is the drapes and carpet match.”

 Original song lyrics for Love Grind from the next chapter of my Platinum/TRR crossover fic:

You workin’ so hard to bring home the bacon

Hustlin’ a grind, no time for lovemakin’

Giving your keyboard all your strokes

All your strokes

All your strokes

You ain’t kissing these lips

You ain’t grabbing these hips

Baby come home, let me clear your mind

Put this peach in your lap

And take you for a love grind

Bounce, roll, thrust, hold

Kiss, moan, scream, groan

Give me that eggplant, make me eat vegetarian

Then lay back so I can ride like an equestrian

Lemme give you that love grind

That love grind

Slap this ass, fill all my holes, make me say your name

Gimme that love grind

Bounce

That love grind

Moan

That love grind

Roll

Gimme all your strokes

Groan

All your strokes

Thrust

All your strokes

Fill all the holes

 Mr. Sonny’s Children, Original Work:

“Hello, Ma.”

There is silence for a few moments; my mother is caught unawares because I rarely answer her calls during the day. There is baggage between us, and demons who play messenger with us. I can’t deal with that when I am trying to heal and cure people.

I gave up on trying to save anyone a long time ago.

“Mabel?” Her voice is hesitant and laced with a warble.

I wonder if she is holding back tears or curses. My mother doesn’t hate me, but she is scared to love me.

I am a child of rape. To love me is to admit she is okay with the violent assault that conceived me. To acknowledge that I survived the rusty hanger and jagged forceps that tried to kill us both is to accept I was meant to be here, destined to be hers throughout all eternity.

Nothing good comes from an evil act.

“Hi, Ma.” I don’t bother to remind her I go by Ann now. She knows.

More silence, thick with tension and unspoken emotions.

I set the spoon back in the bowl and use my chopsticks to toy with a sushi roll instead. I idly roll one side in wasabi that is more pasty than creamy and dunk the other side in soy sauce. I speak into the phone pressed to my ear.

“Ma, I’m at work. Is everything okay?”

“Mr. Sonny died,” she exhales.

I set the chopsticks down carefully before blinking my eyes and staring out at the rain again. “When?”

“Last night. Lung cancer.”

I nod slowly. Mr. Sonny was notorious for consuming all types of tobacco products: he smoked cigarettes, cigars, and pipes. When he wasn’t smoking tobacco, he was chewing it. When he was younger, he was quite handsome: tall with dark, wavy hair and deep green eyes. He was a persuasive speaker with a raw confidence unheard of rural Mississippi, even for whites. That is how he became the Imperial Wizard of our county’s chapter of the KKK.

The last time I saw him was three years ago. He had shrunk, walking with a hunch in his back. His face was wizened and wrinkled; the pate of his head speckled with brown liver spots where hair no longer grew. The backs of his hands were wrinkled and knotted with bright blue veins, his fingers gnarled.

He looked at me as if I were shit on his shoe.

“Why are you telling me this?” I ask slowly. But I knew why.

Mr. Sonny was my father.

[gotmattitude]

we’re gone but we don’t know where

WHO: Santana Lopez ( @trickstersantana​ ) and Matt Rutherford, with NPCs Julio Lopez, Someone.

WHAT: Running errands in New York City, doing some sponsor/sponsee bonding? Sort of?

WHEN: Sep 22nd

WHERE: A building in a dark alley.

WARNINGS: Mention of needles/injections, stabbing, manipulation, death, murder implied?

Santana walked, or almost run, alongside Matt through the city, too happy of her fake sense of freedom. She was too used to being trapped in NYADA. "C'mon, Hoodoo guy, we are almost there." She said with a big smile. She talked with her 'sib' Oliver to know where to met with them and her fake parental figure. She should be wary, she should warn Matt even more of how awful he was. But still, she was happy to see him and talk with him again. A happiness that would end quickly, she knew it very well. "This is the place." She said pointing to a   seemly abandoned building on a dark alley. The kind of place where super hero parents die. "Alright, fair warning. My 'dad' is a fucking ass. Like, the worst, the less he know of you, the best. Oh God, thank you so much for this Matt I will always value your sacrifice, I'm sorry you always have to met the worst... the worst of my kind when you are with me." She would love to tell him she could introduce him to a nice trickster someday, but she didn't knew anyone she liked. Her 'mom' only, but she didn't want to see Santana.  "Ready?"

Matt's internal gears were turning as Santana bounded through the streets of NYC. It was really about time that he used his privilege for something other than snarking Bloodlines on the internet, he thought, just as Santana urged him on. "I'm walking, I'm walking," he said, a little distracted, but speeding up to keep up with her. The building seemed sketchy, at least at first glance, but he'd slept in worse places before. He'd just keep his hands in his pockets; one on his phone, the other on his wallet. "Alright, sure. Is this your hangout spot, or?" 

He wondered what was up with Santana's 'family,' what they'd done, but didn't ask. Some people got shitty families. Some of them were shitty enough to add scare quotes to the word. He nodded along, until she started apologizing to him. "Hey, c'mon. Tamamo--Tamamo wasn't your fault. Your 'dad' is also probably not your fault. Besides, I know one badass trickster already, the bar was too fuckin' high," he joked. "And you know, you don't represent your entire race, and all that shit." Giving a last tentative glance towards the place, he nodded. "Don't let him know too much, he's an ass. I got it. I'm ready when you are."

Santana nodded at the question, but she wasn't that sure. It might be a trap too.  She knew it wasn't her fault, completelly, at least on the Japan part, still, she felt like she was dragging Matt into danger. But she wasn't sorry enough sorry to stop it. She smiles a little at the compliment. "Lucky for them, or they would be super screwed" She joked back. When she was about to open the door, someone opened it from the inside. 

Someone who looks very shady opens the door. They are a white teen, pretty shorty, with black hair and a red hoodie. Even without meeting them before, you could sense the annoying teen energy surrounding them. "Hermanita!! You finally arrived!!" They shout in a very bad spanish pronunciation, quickly hugging Santana to her exasperation. "Hay! Who are you? Who are you? A new friend? What's your name?" They ask very fast, looking at Matt, ending the hug with Santana and going to hug the other guy if no one stopped the energetic kid.

Matt chuckled at her joke, adding something like 'whatcha gonna do about it' before the door swung open, and someone... interesting came out of the other side. He tried not to be annoyed, but Aether, he'd barely been a teenager, and sometimes he was really grateful for that, including right then. An eyebrow raised, he was selfishly glad for a moment that this kid was Santana's "something"--although probably not her "dad"-- and not his. 

Until the kid started heading towards him. Frozen in place, he let them hug him, patting them awkwardly on the back as the only vague form of reciprocation. "I'm Matt," he said when the hug was released, and he could comfortably breathe again, in his own bubble of personal space. "I'm Santana's friend. What's your name?" It was polite to ask, but now he was also very curious. Where had this kid come from?

Santana groans and complains when the kid shows they're still existing. "Oh my God, I'm no family or 'family' or yours. I'm nothing yours. Don't bother Matt you brat" She fear Matt was already saying too much information, but hoped it won't scalate. She went upstairs hoping the others will follow. She enters a room that looked like it was abandoned for years until a little kid found it to turn it into their secret operation base. She entered the living room, completelly covered with a blanket fort, lots of toys and anime figures on the floor and snacks and sweets around. She rolled her eyes when she noticed her 'dad' was sitting on the couch. Inside the blanket fort. "God fucking dammit Cabrón. Really? Your idea of safe place to meet is where the brat lives, right?" She could notice how unconfortable was to be in a room with two other tricksters,  but she know Matt was the only one there that had to suffer 3 distrust auras. 

Someone smiles and moves nerviously and happy. "Do you have a tumblr, Santana's friend? Guess my name!" They said, and fake cries with Santana's complains while she goes upstairs "You're so meaaaaan, you both use me as a messenger and... hey don't ignore me!!" They say as the walk upstairs too. 

The man in the sunglasses smiles at seeing Santana appear, getting up from the couch, but still not being able to stand up fully for the blankets. "That's how you say hi to your old 'dad'?" He says, sound fakelly offended. "If you assume the horse kid lives here." He shrugs. "But let's get to the point, I know you aren't visiting just because you miss me."

Matt stiffens up when this kid asks for his tumblr. Were they going to hack him? Spam him?  Dig up his every secret and expose them to the world?? He smiles, tight and uncomfortable, and thinks for a long second. "I'll guess your name if you guess my tumblr URL. And no checking Santana's blog for clues." He's setting himself up for failure, he can feel it. But there was no such thing as being too careful, not in this city, not this year, not anytime. 

When they go upstairs,  underneath all the alertness, something twists in his chest. Santana had once told him their pasts weren't so different, and he knows many LN experience homelessness, but the childishness of the blanket forts, of the candy and the toys makes sympathy shine through. When Santana makes that comment though, he finds himself looking around. Is there someone here? Is this a setup?? 

Matt looks to Santana for guidance on how to react to this man. Her "dad". He gives a noncommittal nod when he speaks to her, but doesn't greet him out loud. Yet. Shit. Now he's also wondering why Santana wanted to come here when she thought so badly of her "family". Maybe she found out about Brownstone. Maybe this was a way to quietly say "fuck you" for being another sponsor with blood on his hands. Or maybe she is a really good actress and she hates shadow magic more than she let on. His eyes dart back and forward between all three tricksters, and he has to push himself to settle down. What the fuck, chill, he thinks.

Someone looks defeated. What a masterful way to ruin their machinations. "Uuuhhhhhhhhh.... mattfriendofsantana dot tumblr dot com!" They try to guess while they go upstairs, and sits next to the man on the sunglasses. "I don't live here! This is my super secret operation base!!" They said with pride. 

Santana rolls her eyes. But she did miss him, sometimes she wasn't interacting with him. Everytime they met again it was full of regret. "You said things you knew things. About enchantments. So c'mon be a decent fake dad a help your fave fake daugther, you bastard." 

The man in the sunglasses points at the kid like saying. 'See?' and waves at the other man that went with Santana. "Hello, sorry my daugther was raised to forget to introduce people. You can call me Julio, who are you?" He asks, and talks a little softer to Santana, in spanish. "¿Cuánto confías en él? Y no digas que no te fias de nadie, eso ya lo se, Niebla. But yeah sure, if you are a decent fake daugther and give me the information I asked you about months ago."

Matt probably shouldn't feel as satisfied as he does to have outsmarted a child. But he does, and a smile tugs on his lips as they guess the wrong username. "Wrong. I'll tell you what letter it starts with if you tell me what letter your name starts with." Matt suggests, and even though he's probably a bit too cocky at the moment, the end of the sentence turns into a question. "Operation base for what?" he asks before he can stop himself. Do teenagers tend to have these sort of things? Is this normal? It takes him a second to brush off the confusion, but when he does, the initial suspicion lingers. Is this an ambush?? 

And Santana's asking about enchantments, and he would have thought there wasn't much left inside him to be twisted up, but there is. Aether, he hopes someone is able to help her. Brownstone was months ago, and she is still dealing with this shit?He tries to stand next to Santana and look intimidating with arms crossed, but his eyes keep darting from person to person to 'secret operation base', giving away his uneasiness. 

Matt nods at Santana's 'dad', and something about the way he spoke strikes a nerve. "Eh, politeness is fuckin' overrated. I'm Matt, it's... interesting to meet you, Julio." His attention drifts when the conversation turnsinto Spanish, once again glancing around the room. He has been here for... what? Two minutes? Two hours? And he's thoroughly confused. Thoroughly. He catches the tail end of her 'dad''s sentence, and an eyebrow rises of its own accord as he glances sideways at Santana. What the fuck was going on here?

Someone is too hooked up with this. "O!" Then pouts exageratelly "I told you is super secret! But it's for super secret meetings, like this one!" They reveal anyway. "Stop talking in spanish I want to know what you guys say!!" 

Santana was annoyed, but she throws him a notebook she was carrying in ther bag (who was there the whole time). "En una escala de 0 a 10, siendo un 0 'no le diría ni mi nombre', y 10 lo que me fio de la prediccion del tiempo, un 7. Now. What do you know?" Santana can see Matt also dislikes her 'dad' from minute one like every living on Earth. "We don't respect politeness in this fucking house." She says proud. 

The man in the sunglasses smirks. "Interesting. That's pretty generous. In the 'family' we have a saying about Santana's friends. They are either naive fools she's trying to use, or people without any morals whatsoever, which one are you?" He tries to catch the notebook in the air, but he fails, and he has to crouch to get it. "Eso es un número muy alto para ti, Niebla, te fias demasiado del hombre del tiempo." He says without opening it. "I actually don't know that much about enchantments and you suspected it, so this notebook is full of lies, right? But to not get stuck in the accusations of lying like always, let's jump to the deals. I'll have to do my research and if I get something, you tell me something. Now, what's the enchantment about. I can't help much without data, you know that."

Matt starts going through all the names with O he knows in his head. As it turns out, they're not that many. Octavius. Octavia. Octopus. Fuck. A deal's a deal, though, so he begrudgingly offers his URL initial as well. "G." What kind of super secret meetings do teenagers even have? Is this the first one to be hosted here? He also wants to know what Santana and her "dad" are saying, but he refuses to agree with this kid right now. Maybe there will be time for that later. 

Discreetly, he tries to gauge what they're saying. He hears numbers. Maybe it's a secret code. The little phrase about politeness shakes him out of it, but before he can react, Julio is talking to him. Eyes narrowed, he laughs a little, and crosses his arms over his chest. This is a test of some kind, he can tell. But he's not going to fall for it. "Bit of both. I'm a naïve dumbass with shit for a moral compass." The notebook falls straight to the ground, and he bites back a laugh, trying to not get visibly frustrated when he speaks Spanish again. Is he talking about me?? It's alright though, soon enough his eyes bounce back between the two like he's watching a ping pong match. "What do you know about Enchantments? Forcing people to do shit they don't want to do?" Matt asks, arms still crossed and keeping his gaze straight.

Someone checks their phone when they heard the first clue and opens Santana's tumblr page to find a blog she rebloged starting with G. They will scroll down until They Find Matt.

Santana is already nervous just looking at Matt and her 'dad' talk, but she knew showing she cares too much about Matt won't end well and her fake father would be ven more of a dick. She doubts before giving an answer. She crosses her arms. Ah, fuck it. "Ah, you know." She shrugs. "Self-deprecating magic bullshit. To be ashamed of myself, that I'm alone, or no one will miss me, that other people think I'm just an animal and all that super fake shit that is totally not real and I don't believe for a moment." She tries to say non challant like its her grocery list. "Alright maybe I believe that but it's magic's fault!"

The man in the sunglasses laughs at Matt's answer. "This guy is fun, Mist. I hope you aren't planning to stab him." He says way too casually. "Enchantments is manipulation for inepts who don't know how to convince people without magic." He listens to Santana, quiet for a while. "Oh, you finished? Really? That's it? God damnit Mist, you believed all those things already. What a redundant and useless spell."

Matt sighs when the kid takes out their phone. This is going to go great. 

[CW: needles]

His eyes narrow at the stabbing comment. What. The. Fuck. Was that an inside joke??? Did Santana regularly stab her friends, or enough so that her "dad" asks about it. "Don't worry, I stab myself enough with needles regularly. I can handle myself." Could he though??? He's trying real hard to look completely different than how he felt, which was threatened and confused as fuck, and he doesn't know if it's working.

Focused on what Santana is saying, his guard drops for a moment. Aether, how had it been so long since Brownstone, and he had no idea this was going on? He never means to pry, to force people to talk about things they don't want to, and he's been so ridiculously focused on his own bullshit that he just didn't know the enchantment went this deep. What a fucking dick. But this isn't the place to voice that. He turns back to Santana's "dad" and crosses his arms tighter against his chest again, and ignored the pang that comes with this comment that these things weren't new. "Do you know how to help her or not?"

Santana super fake laughs and then acts super offended "Excuse me? I had never, NEVER stabbed anyone with a real knife." She might had try a lot of times, though. 'How much do you know about it, you bastard?' She was getting even more nervous and unconfortable. "Don't listen to him, Matt, he thinks he is soooo funny" She rolls her eyes, and controls herself from saying 'I would never do that to you' because it would be too much of a lie. Who knows what the future hold, right? She gets even more angry to his fake father reaction. "I guess!!! But you don't have to be a dick about it!" She answers without thinking. "Ughhhh, c'mon! You are just saying that because...because you don't know shit about getting rid of it and you just want to...aggh!!" She is too annoyed and embarrased to say a proper argument.

The man in the sunglasses keeps his confident smile on. "Is that because you take drugs or the...the sugar thing...thing" He says, snapping his fingers, like he doesn't remember the name but it's so close to get it and that would help. He groans frustrated to his bad memory. "Mist, you throw a knife to my face, don't act all hight and mighty like you are above stabbing." He says as casually as fake dad could talk to his fake daughter about something as not washing the dishes. He calmly stares at Santana while she gets progresivelly more annoyed. "I told you it's like manipulation. Just manipulate yourself back goddamnit. Where is your manipulative liar pride? You are terrible at it, but also you believe a lot of crap, so it could work."

Matt is really doing his best to not freak out about the whole 'does Santana plan to stab me' thing, and he knows he's being irrational--oh. The aura. Times three, probably. He tries to push it down, and quirks a smile at Julio. "Testosterone," he says simply. Still... there have been knives thrown before, it seems, but he'll ask her about this afterwards. Aether, this experience has been fun already. He laughs awkwardly before he clears his throat and laughs again, still falsely, but more sarcastically. "Hilarious," he comments. 

Matt knows everyone has their insecurities, but today has really been a wake-up call, and he's growing steadily more annoyed at Julio, and worried about Santana, until he offers them a solution. Manipulate yourself back? Admittedly, that seemed like the wrong approach to take about getting herself to believe she wasn't an animal, or alone. But maybe Leah could help with that. "She's a fucking great manipulative liar," he defends her, and the words come tumbling out of him before he can stop them. "Is there anything else you know?" Matt asks.

Santana shrugs, still very annoyed and angry at everything. "But you dodged it! Geez old man, get over it. You deserved it. And stop asking Matt questions!" She frows even more at the useless advice. "That's bullshit. It's like an illusion. I could make a deal everyday so you had a noisy fly flying in front of your face forever. You can try to ignore it, even if you know it's not real, but it's still there." She doesn't know how to feel about Matt's defense. "Yeah!" 

The man in the sunglasses snaps his fingers when Matt's says testosterone. "Insulin! Oh, it's not that." He says first proud and then dissapointed. The kid stops staring at their phone to complain. "Daaaad, I explain it to you!" and the man makes shushs sounds so they shut up. "Mist that's hurtful, I'm hurt. And someday, someone won't dodge your knives, and they would be no one to stop you. " Beats. "That sounded too optimist." He laughs at Matt saying Santana is any good at manipulation. "If she was, you wouldn't know. But you know because she is not subtle at all. I love you, Mist, but you are terrible." He raises his eyebrows to Santana's explanation. "You should have started by that! Then you know how to deal with illusions, I already teach you half of what I know!"

Someone whose name starts with O grins. "Found it~! Oh! You're a doppel!! I have some theories about doppels."

Matt, without thinking it over, blurts out: "or she might stop throwing knives at people." There are many ways to stab someone. In their back. Looking right at them. Having someone else throw the knife. With a hidden contraption. Still, he cringes at his own completely useless addition and gives Julio a look like he just owned him. Which he knows he didn't. What the fuck is he even trying to do here. Maybe he should just let Santana talk. "That's not necessarily true," he says, immediately contradicting his decision to let Santana do the talking. "You can realize after you've been manipulated how much they fucked you over." He shrugs. 

He narrows his eyes at Santana's example about the fly, and he thinks about it for a moment. "But maybe he can convince you to stop making the deal." Get to the root of the problem. He ignores Julio's comments about illusions. Santana's at least half the reason he's even attempted to work on his illusion magic. Blaine's like 15%. The rest is just he really likes learning. 

Looking at the kid, he lifts his chin. "What did you explain to him?" Matt asks, just as Julio shushes them. A sigh leaves him before he can stop it when they find him online and immediately put their foot in their mouth. "Theories? About doppels?" An eyebrow is high in his forehead, and his arms remain crossed against his chest.

Santana is actually a little happy Matt is there and not only full of regret. "Yeah! Thanks, Matt" She stops to look at him. "Wait, what do you mean?" Hey, nice, actually they are discussing solutions and brainstorming. Who had though, talking things with people actually helped? "In this case, stop doing the deal would MAYBE had been getting rid of that bastard's magic. But SOMEONE" Marley. "Didn't want to testify for it.Yes I'm talking about you know how." She says Marley with her mouth in case Matt doesn't get it, but with no sound. "It's Marley I'm blaming Marley. And the entire  judicial system but mostly Marley."

The man in the sunglasses continues his theory.  "You know what to do agaisnt an illusion, Santana. Look out for the truth." His phone sounds, he checks it,  an shush the kid again,  "Don't waste time, we have to go now, Mist. I'll ask around to make your work easier, and you give the fucking information, alright?" 

Someone whose name starts with O knows they don't have much time. Their theories won't be stopped. "Everyone thinks doppels come from witches but WHAT IF" They say, very exagerately and dramatic. "Doppels are actually the tricksters who get to become human."

Gears are turning in Matt's head, and he points at Santana as he processes the information. "No--I don't mean Fuchs's magic," he says, as his attention remains on trying to hypothetically solve the enchantment problem. "Although I have no fucking clue why Marley wouldn't get her ass to court to testify," he says offhandedly, only sounding mildly annoyed. "I'm saying we get to the source of the problem. The source of your beliefs. And work from there." Shrugging, he speaks towards the ground for a moment. "Maybe we don't get rid of the deal at first. Maybe some days the fly is quiet. Maybe some days it just lays there. Maybe it buzzes without being able to see it. But we take steps."

Look out for the truth. Manipulate yourself back. Santana says Julio doesn't know enchantments, but Matt's starting to think he knows enough, at least, for them to make some progress. "Leaving so soon?" he asks, like he was really enjoying their company. 

Matt is straight-up rendered speechless when O-kid shares their theory, at least for a series of seconds that stretch long. If tricksters became human, would they have memories? Would they arise as doppels do? "Where would we get the memories of our past lives, then?" He asks, trying to one-up some kid, like an adult is supposed to do. "I'm pretty sure doppels are just doppels. Tricksters who become human are humans who used to be tricksters?" The first sentence is pretty confident, but the second sounds just about as unsure as he feels right now.

Santana groans "Because her problems are more important than everyone's else." But she rather focus on solutions now. "Ugh, Matt, the source is the entire world and systematic racism. This is not a thing we can change from the source. We are looking for realistic, magical solutions here" She listens to how Matt follows her fly metaphor. She doesn't agree, she just wants to kill the bug forever. Her fake dad was going to leave, anyway. "Alright, alright, I'll give you your shit info, but you better do something because I'm just going to give you as muchinformation as you give me. You have to go? Oh my God, please, tell me is not because there is some dangerous person coming here trying to kill you out of revenge for some fucked up thing you did to them." She stops for a moment. "It's Darling?" She is so annoyed at the kid. "If there wasn't like, proofs or evidence of doppels coming from witches, yeah, suuuure." Santana rolls her eyes to Matt outright lying to the kid. You don't even think you are human, Matt, don't say tricksters are now

Someone  whose name starts with O doesn't want to leave yet. "From the life as a trickster, of course! But doppels comes from someone else." The kid laughs at Matt question. "Hahahaha you have no idea, don't you?"

 The man in the sunglasses text someone, then throws the phone to the ground and breaks it. "You know it." He says with a smile and he could talk in spanish, but it would be easier to talk on a way only Santana would get. "But no, do you remember Clown and Mirror? Medieval fair, 2014.  This is like that time before Nails tried to throw a goat to Doorframe combined with that time Darling and Tibula were betting our lifes on a game of jenga at the aquarium." 

Santana hears that totally understanding the gravity of the situation and grabs Matt's arm. "Matt we have to go."

Matt scoffs. "A lot of shit is product of systemic oppression, and it doesn't mean you can't work on it. " He's pretty proud of his idea and his metaphors, alright? Besides, life already seems pretty bleak without adding 'no way to combat self-loathing thoughts instilled on you by systemic racism'. He's not about to add an extra layer of bleakness on purpose. "Maybe there's no magic solution. At least not without using more enchantments." 

"I'm almost sure that's not true," he tells the kid. "There's some pretty witchy memories in there. But it's not like that shit's gonna stop you from making up theories like that in your head. So whatever." Jesus, he's like the teenager here now. But he's annoyed. Sure, he has no idea, but do they have to point it out like that??

He goes to continue to argue--he's not even sure about what, but that seems to be what he's doing today--when it seems like things start moving real fast, real suddenly. His head jerks one way, and then the other, and his heart drums in his chest when tension seems to rise out of nowhere and Santana grabs his arm. "Wh--what? Sure. Sure, let's go." Glancing back towards Julio and the kid, he waves half-heartedly. "Nice... to meet you?"

Santana frows. There is has to be a magic solution. Bitch don't say that bullshit but instead she just makes complaining noises about it. She waves goodbye "Die a painful dead." Santana says, with a friendly tone. "I love you too!" his 'dad' answers. Oliver just says bye very enthusiastically.

She brings Matt outside, almost dragging him by the arm until they are out the flat. And then until they are far away from the flat. "Oh man, uuuuuughhhhhhhhhhhhhhh I fucking hate him so much!" She complains, angry. "Sorry I dragged you into this. But..." She calms herself a bit. "But it really helped me. I think."

Matt waves goodbye to everyone in a confused daze as he's pulled away, partly by his own feet and partly by Santana. He's so confused by the circumstances, but he doesn't say anything while Santana complains. He just pats her on the arm while glancing over the direction they'd come from. 

His muscles relax when Santana says it had helped her. "Did it? You seemed sort of skeptical about it." His teeth worries his lip for a moment. "I told you before that I would help you with this, and I haven't been doing great at that, but whatever you think of for this shit, I'm in."

[rin-recovery]

1 year clean and sober Chair (7/7/21)

I’m Katherine A grateful dual diagnosed Alcoholic. (Pause)

What it was like: I was born into a quiet dysfunctional family. I was placed in foster care when I was 2ish because of this. When we (my older sister and I) were placed back with our mom we moved across the U.S. from Massachusetts to Vancouver Washington because we had family here and I had what I thought was a normal up bringing, on the outside it looked like a normal low-income family, but my mom was very much present and involved in my education unlike most of the other kid’s parents who I hung out with. However, behind closed doors my family was falling apart. My grandpa who I looked at like a father was an alcoholic, would always have a beer in hand while driving to pick us up from school, my dad did not enter my life until after I was 6 or 7 years old and what I thought was normal discipline was not, long story short my childhood left my brain literally broken. As young as 5th grade I wanted to die and could not explain why that was always a thought. The school and one of my friends thought it was because my great grandpa who I was very close with had died that year, but I knew it was not the only reason. Starting at a young age my parents attempted to try and help us make good choices around alcohol. My parents train of thought was if they allowed drinking in the house, we would not go behind their backs and party, and for the most part it worked. So, I started drinking small amounts of alcohol around the age of 8. In middle school I started hanging around the wrong crowd and by high school I was a mess. My drinking progressed from small amounts to large very quickly during that time. My mental health was so bad that I missed a month of school in 10thgrade due to a suicide attempt. I was self-harming, drinking, running away and overdosing on Benadryl and over the counter sleep aid regularly that my mom finally told one of my teachers after he called about me crying and walking out of my 11th grade English class that if I was going to kill myself nothing anyone did for me was going to stop me. 12th grade I barely was able to graduate due to the amount of school I was skipping and if it were not for my English teacher staying after school to help me with my math, I would not have graduated at all. When my best friend died in an ATV accident the summer after we graduated, I lost the will to live and again ended up in the hospital for a week over a suicide attempt and had to drop out of college because I could not get the work done, I lost 2 scholarship because of it and would eventually lose financial aid due to 2 more dropouts due to my mental health. At the age of 20 I got married to someone I thought loved me for me, but I found out in a short period of time how wrong I was about him; however, it was too late to walk away, and no one intervened due to him looking and acting mentally sound and me being bat shit crazy on the outside but behind closed doors it was a different story. My drinking and wanting to die only grew worse because I was hating my life and could never do anything right by my then husband. The only time I was mostly sober was when I was pregnant, but I was still regularly self-harming during that time. I was a closet alcoholic and tried to control it around my 2 boys who I try to keep living for as well. 7 years of marriage full of domestic violence and a lot of other not so great things ended with him walking out the door 3 days after Christmas of 2017 with the threat that if I tried to get a divorce, he would make my life a living hell by taking the boys away and never letting me see them again. My drinking, self-harming and overdosing went off the chart because of the fear of my ex and I was going to the hospital or my current boyfriend was having to come out and find me at bus stops or walking around trying to either get picked up by random people or get to the I5 bridge to jump off of (this all happened after my kids were in bed and asleep and my mom was home) all while trying to get and hold down a job while also trying to take care of my 2 special needs boys during the day time. About 2

years ago I was diagnosed with D.I.D. (Dissociative identity disorder) so literally my brain is broken into about 46 known pieces as of right now. Life started making more sense however it fixed nothing. It only explained why I have little to no memory of growing up or anything that was or is overly stressful. My boyfriend was having his own problems with bad med management, so I helped him while pretending/not caring about my own drinking and using. He got better as I kept getting worse. I finally got a job doing peer support which I had been wanting to do for 4 years and was certified to do and started working in a treatment center. Long story short I started to feel like a fraud at work every day. I was telling the ladies how to better their lives and I was losing it every time I was not at work. So, after talking with my counselor, he referred me to a SUD program, and I went. I told my SUD counselor flat out that I would not go to any groups because of the work that I did, I just wanted vivitrol to control the urges that at this point were out of control. No A.A. for me because I did not want to run into people who might know me from work. Well, that did not work out so well. I relapsed July 5th. My SUD counselor told me to go to A.A. so I did. I found the only in person meeting at the time, which was here, and I made an effort to get to as many meetings as time would allow. I let fear stop me from asking anyone to be my sponsor (1 because there were not many women at the meetings I was going to because RBR had just reopened their noon meetings due to the shutdown and 2 I feared that my mental health was too bad for anyone to handle) I was sober because I held onto the message NO MATTER FUCKING WHAT WE DON’T DRINK or USE! My job changed from the treatment center to the crisis center and just being sober was taking a toll. The fighting between my boyfriend and I was at an all-time high and I was slowly getting to the point that either I needed to be dead or I would drink again so on Aug. 17th after a week filled with 2 suicide attempts and my first week working graveyard at the crisis center I went to the 7pm meeting, filled my heart with all the hope it could hold, went home and told my kids that I loved them, tucked them into bed, packed a bag and had my boyfriend take me to the psych hospital. On the drive I text a few women in this room to say where I was going and that when I got out, I would get a sponsor because every message I heard said get a sponsor and work the steps to get better and I really wanted to get better. A week later I got out of the hospital no longer wanting to die or drink. I prayed really hard to a Man that I struggled to talk to or believe in to point out a woman who could handle ALL of me, already kind of knowing the woman He had picked out because she had taken me to her church once and had called me out at a meeting for not having a sponsor yet. So, on Sep. 9th after 62 days clean and sober and 39 meetings I asked Danira to be our sponsor and she said yes. Well first I texted her on the 8th and asked because I had no idea how it worked and Danira also intimidated us, we talked on the 9th and then she said yes. I would love to tell you all that my life got better however that would be a lie. With 46 known alter/personalities and a large majority not wanting recovery this process has been really difficult but also very rewarding. From September to the end of October I was making progress in leaps and bounds but then we got covid and everything stopped in November. I could not get my vivitrol shot and I could not go to an in-person meeting. My brain stopped working, it reverted to survival. I held onto NO MATTER WHAT to try to make day to day work for us to not relapse. We stopped picking up the phone and started staying up late hours not moving so we did not do something stupid. We still were able to do our gratitude daily and were grateful for waking up without a relapse each and every day. I do not remember much from November to January besides, we kept saying WE DON’T DRINK OR USE NO

MATTER WHAT. We finally were able to get back to the meetings regularly and while no we do not talk a lot due to our brain not being able to hold coherent thoughts most of the time, we are still in the meeting. Standing to get our 6th and 9th month coins was one of the happiest moments in our life. Working the steps have been hard but we keep pushing through. Danira has not given up on us yet and we try to push ourselves to make her, my kids and boyfriend proud.

NO MATTER WHAT looks like when my youngest is losing it by screaming in our face or hurting me physically we do not get the damn bottle because it will not fix anything (despite what some think in our head). My kids have already been through so much of me being selfish with my drinking and rampage problems. They need their mom to get out of self and learn to be a better parent for them. NO MATTER WHAT looks like when I cannot sleep, or I am suffering from high physical pain I don’t get weed or pills to numb it all because it is a short fix that will make all the hard work, we put in all for nothing. We do not have another relapse or recovery in us, if we went out, we would never come back and that is not an option just ask Danira, I tried once it ended with her at my front door with backup. NO MATTER WHAT looks like when two of my sponsee sisters and sponsor shows up at my house after a night of crisis that I follow my sponsor’s directions to go back to the hospital to stay safe and come back to my baseline even when I do not want to because she will not gamble with our lives or my boys’ lives. Side note: because of God leading me to Danira and Danira never giving up on us and because I was able to mostly follow her direction to go back into the psych hospital again, not that I was given much of a choice in the matter, we now have a counselor that knows what they are talking about and is able to help us move forward in our recovery in both the mental and addiction aspects. NO MATTER WHAT is a statement I only knew in a bad way. I would say NO MATTER WHAT I was going to be dead by the time I was 16, 18, 20, 25,30 years old now I say NO MATTER WHAT we are going to keep going and keep fighting this fight because I have 2 little boys that need me. NO MATTER WHAT my ex does to me NO MATTER WHAT anyone does to me we do not need to drink or use to fix it despite what the others might think in the head.

So, to the newcomer I want to leave you with this message NO MATTER WHAT it takes it is a one day, one moment at a time program and it is spiritual progress not perfection, it is a “we” program not an “I” program and these men and women will stand with you to fight this disease as long as you let them in.

WE DON’T DRINK OR USE NO MATTER FUCKING WHAT!!

Thank you.

[willyg43]

Life story

I was born in Syracuse, NY on July 23,1993. My first memories are with my family at get togethers or birthday parties. My childhood was good Id say. The first real influential events that happened to me were breaking my femur playing football and my parents getting divorced. Both happened around the same time. I broke my leg and was given Vicodin to come home with. I wouldn't take them more than prescribed but I remember really liking when it was time to take them. Then I healed from my injury and continued playing sports which gave me friends that were popular. I didn't ever feel like I had much else in common with these popular kids besides Im good at sports. In 9th grade I went to a party with girls (big deal) and I was offered marijuana for the first time. I said yes I would like to and that was the first drug I tried. I had been shown some very high quality weed in computer class which was 9th-12th grade. After smoking it for the first time I immediately fell in love with it. I bought some myself. It was nothing like what I was shown by the senior who sat next to me. But the saying was “Dirty town dirty brown” in reference to scummy people who sold people dirt weed. But none the less I started regularly smoking marijuana, listened to grateful dead and grew my hair long. I had a fairly serious girlfriend at the time who hated when i smoked weed and I became seriously depressed, put on anti depressants and took about 25 Codeine/Tylenol pills that were my mothers, then about 10 tylenol pms and advil. I was taken to the hospital with an overdose. I had a psychiatric evaluation and they said I needed to go to the Psych Hospital across the street. They strapped me to a stretcher and took me to where would be my home for the next 42 days. I recovered physically after a day or two but was still severely depressed because of the lack of communication with my girlfriend and seemingly imminent break up following. This was my first treatment environment. I made friends and had a fun break from school while playing videos games, gin rummy, and basketball (no one would play with me which made me look like i was “Improving” to the staff which I knew were writing notes on all of us.) I was discharged and went back to school. Tried to keep up on work and play lacrosse (my favorite sport) again. In December of that year I smoked weed again with my friend and had two or three beers and played mario kart. His dad got mad at him because he didn't want me to go crazy and kill myself. I wasn't as depressed but became verbally and physically abusive to my dad and there were incidences where police had to intervene and I was trying to run away weekly. At the end of the school year I was smoking as much weed as before the suicide attempt. I asked my friend if I could sleep over and smoke weed with him and he said my mom called his mom and said i couldn't stay over which seemed really strange. I awoke at 3 am with two large men and my mom and dad in the same room (something i hadn't seen in 3 or 4 years) and they said to come with them. The drove me to the airport and we flew to washington dc. then las vegas, then we drove to Kanab Utah and they gave me clothes and a backpack and let me out on the trail with a bunch of other kids with wilderness hats and clothes and giant backpacks. I felt like I was in the movie Holes. I started hiking with them and kind of liked the freedom. But I was having severe hallucinations (some as bad as seeing the devil in the middle of the night) and couldn't control my bowel movements. I was in the desert for 70 days when my dad picked me up and it was great to see him, my family had visited me for a day and it was a beautiful experience for us I think. We had a long drive and a long talk on the way to Discovery Ranch, a place for troubled boys and girls mostly coming out of wilderness. Here I went to school, raises calfs. Did lots of cleaning and chores and played basketball on saturday. I was here for almost a year and when I turned 18 it was time to move to the next place. This one being in Idaho. Here I graduated high school and volunteered at thrift stores and ate organic food and started smoking cigarettes. I got to go home Dec 12, 2012. When I got home I was walking to the store for cigarettes when I saw an old friend and he invited me to a party. I went and had a few beers and smoked weed. My parents bought me an apartment to live in by myself. This summer I went to a lot of parties one which got broken up by the cops and i almost got arrested. Then I asked my friend if he could get me heroin, which he did and that was the first time I tried heroin. I was 20. Then in the fall I went to college and smoked a lot of weed and got hammered and did minimal school work. It was an unsuccesful attempt to lead a normal life. That summer my friend came home from school and we decided we were going to do heroin again. So thats what we did and we had a connect and a dealer and I used heroin almost daily and at this point i was still snorting it which i was ridiculed about. Him and I delved into heroin as deep as we could go and did hopeless desperate things to get heroin. I asked him to shoot me up and he did, it was december and I could see the Christmas tree in the park in Syracuse just a block or two from where I was born, and the pysch hospital. Him and I continued to shoot up almost daily and I met another friend who could get me cocaine as well as heroin and knew the ins and outs of the life. Something that i felt i was above, directly buying it, going into homes. I never did that, I drove where they said to go and gave people rides for free heroin. In Febuary I went to inpatient rehab for the first time. I threw up 7 times before they decided I needed suboxone. I did the full 30 days and was sober now for the first time since coming back (3 years). I was landscaping making a fair amount of money when I relapsed. I quit my job and started shooting heroin again. I had a dishwashing job once a week where i made 80-100 dollars one night a week which was enough at first with the money from landscaping and scamming and giving people rides. I was in very rough shape when I went back to rehab. I did 12 days and came up to New Hampshire where I was in an intensive sober house where i could re enter society safely. I went to meetings, got a sponsor and did all 12 steps. I worked hard at my minimum wage jobs and I gained my love for life back. I felt better than I had since I was playing sports with my friends in middle school. I got a girlfriend and hung out with her as much as possible after I got out of the house. I deliver pizza now in the town I went to the sober house in and I am very happy with my life. I have two sponsees, my family back, a girlfriend whom I want to grow old with and close to two years sober from EVERYTHING. If this isn't a testement to the twelve steps I dont think anything could convince anyone to seek help. I am very eager and excited to see where life takes me in the future and I love my life today.  THANKS FOR READING.

[sficacalmoddity-blog]

THE HEART IS A HOME pt. CINCO

The Twerp...

Besides at homegroup, when the person I went with taunted? him, while he was starting his share (maybe I’ll find out one day, which, of course, is part of this process) I saw him one other time. Speaking again. So it was New Years Eve, 2015 (the following New Years I saved a man’s life most likely, as he was scaling down a building, perched precariously on a fence with a HUGE drop below him...

oh yeah, I forgot. Some chapter titles:

The Greenhouse Effect

Ruling it in Superior court

Take it! Take it!

HUGE cock in the glory hole

Claire, Chenoh, Pia, and the purple dildo

The Blue Skirt Incident

Supertranny

Santa Rita

Dirty Fergie

SUPER DICE!

Ballet on liquid acid in Kansas City

Hi Claire, nice hair (A Phoenix hotel joint)

but, we’ll get to all that) The sober dance in the East Bay was AMAZING. I mean, it was a real club night. This guy Norman threw it. I guess he used to be a promoter. No alcohol. No drugs. If you were walking in off the street, you would have been PSYCHED! The only way you would have not been psyched is if you were looking to get fucked up on mind altering substances. It was “the afterparty” so to speak.

     The house DJ downstairs was playing some SLAMMING beats. top notch. I sent Norman a FB message asking who it was. He never replied. Hip Hop and party tunes were upstairs, and they were FAB as well. So now for the ride home. The important part. Roxy driving. Cleve riding passenger. The twerp and I in back. We talk a little. Twerp asks me if I’m on Facebook. Cleve clears his throat audibly. To be continued in print... nah...wait...I message I sent to him recently...

hey fuck face....WHO DO YOU LIKE?????!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I am going to need 10 people in AA to verify the amount of time sober. since you told me. two times succinctly, "people thought I was a newcomer. Hit me up...I'm sure we can work something out. tell Amy I love her, will you!! Its on fuckface!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!fuck any sponsor/sponsee combos lately. I wonder if Shane bought the fact I thought it was so rad. Call me at work!! And say hi to "Adam"- who I actually like. hey- who is Darrell greenhouse's boss?Chat Conversation End Type a message...

So what ended up happening. Eventually. Is that the twerp YELLED at me “WHO DO YOU LIKE???!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” I gave him the name of a cool woman I want to have sex with. He said no. I threw another name at him. Now keep in mind I’m not even 6 months sober I don’t think at this point, and this twerp has infiltrated my life, for the sole purpose of doing this to me? Then accuses ME of not doing AA? Says I haven’t since I came in?  I do AA. Its all these other punks who don’t. I don’t do it perfectly. No one does. The program of AA is laid out in the first 164 pages of the big book. So what ends up happening, is I throw another name at him. Now keep in mind, the person I was interested in, and still am? I told one person about her. One. He was a work colleague. I didn’t trust anyone. Still don’t. Was TOLD recently not to trust anyone...

[dcbbw]

Would you ever write a possible intimate scene between Riley & Drake to be interrupted by Liam

@texaskitten30,  I see you asking the hard questions! I had to think on this because @ao719 did something similar in her Homecoming story. I also didn’t want to replicate my Commoner’s Wife series where Drake catches Liam and Riley in the act. But I think I twisted my thoughts enough to present something somewhat original. It varies slightly from what you asked, so I  hope you enjoy!

Thank you to pre-readers in whole and in part @burnsoslow and @sirbeepsalot

Story below the cut.

This fic is slightly NSFW.

Riley Brooks smiled at the man seated across the table from her. She sipped her wine as he spooned some Portvarian seafood chowder into his mouth. Her eyes fell to her plate, filled with Cordonian chicken salad. She wasn’t happy that the chicken was cubed and not shredded; she was downright displeased that slices of Cordonian Ruby littered the salad. Riley loathed the nation’s signature apple; she found its texture mushy and thought it tasted vinegary.

But her host didn’t know that.  No one did. Not her friends, not her husband. Riley was good at adapting to situations.

When in Rome …

She saw the man wince as he reached for a warm, buttered croissant and she looked at him in concern.

“Is it your shoulder?”

The man nodded. “The bullet wound has healed; it only bothers me when it’s cold or about to rain.”

He didn’t elaborate and Riley did not comment. They both knew who he took the bullet for.

Riley smiled. It was a balmy day in the Mediterranean, with bright sunshine and a brilliant blue sky. The pair were sharing lunch on an outdoor patio. “Well, it’s neither cold nor cloudy.” Her eyes narrowed. “Are you certain the wound is fully healed?”

The man nodded as he bit into his roll. “Doctor gave me a clean bill of health last week.”

Riley ate some chicken salad; she was surprised that the bitterness of the apple complemented the chicken.  She nodded in approval and licked her lips before taking a hefty forkful. Greek yogurt, onions, celery, red peppers, and the astringent taste of the apple exploded across her tastebuds

“I didn’t think the apple would pair so well!” she said, her tone surprised.

“The American varieties go well with pork, the ruby is poultry’s best friend.” The man looked up from his chowder filled with clams, shrimp, crabmeat, oysters, and root vegetables. “You haven’t mentioned your husband.”

Riley toyed with her food. “That’s why I’m here. He’s away; traveling for business.”

Her companion looked at her thoughtfully. “When are you going to accept Duchy Valtoria?”

Riley shook her head. “I have enough titles.”

“Accepting the duchy would make things more … convenient.”

“The cabin is fine.”

“I’ll make the arrangements then.”

Riley snickered as she raised an eyebrow. “Make the arrangements?”

The man shrugged. “Hey, it needs a cleaning. We both know that.”

Three days later, Riley and the man were in the bedroom of the cabin. Both were naked. The man hissed at the feel of soft lips on his now-healed wound. His fingers raked through hair before drifting down to ghost shoulder blades.

“I love you.” The words tickled his skin.

He tilted his head down to capture lips in his; stubble scraped his cheek.  “I love you more, Drake” Liam breathed when the kiss ended.

It was supposed to be just another ball. Court had just returned from the Engagement Tour, and King Liam was to present his betrothed to Court and crown Lady Riley, the House Beaumont sponsee, the newest Duchess of Valtoria.

Until the bombing. Until the assassins. Countess Madeleine, the Queen-to-Be, had been rushed from the ballroom right before the bomb detonated; Liam had joined the King’s Guard in fending off the attack at the entryway to the ballroom. While security hauled the intruders away, Liam scanned the ballroom.

It was dark, smoke-filled, and filled with chaos as nobles scattered for safety. Amidst the screams and stampeding, he saw Lady Riley standing alone, her champagne glass still in her hand as pandemonium erupted around her. Her ball gown billowed around her as she stared straight ahead; she was frozen in shock.  

Liam’s eyes continued to look around.

Where is he?

And then he saw him. Drake was pulling on Riley’s arm, trying to lead her to safety but she was a standing dead weight. Liam rushed over to lead his lover to safety; his eyes widened when he saw the hooded figure in black armed with a gun appear in front of Drake and Riley.

Liam feinted to the right to approach the attacker from the side. He saw the attacker raise his gun, the barrel pointed directly at Riley’s forehead.

“DRAKE!” the King shouted over the din. “Push Riley out of the way and DUCK!”

Drake didn’t look around to find Liam; rather, he followed instructions and pushed Riley backward with all his might. She was knocked into Rashad Domvallier. Drake found himself  face to face with the gun’s barrel when the shot rang out. He didn’t even have time to panic. But he felt nothing as Liam sailed in front of him, catching the bullet in his shoulder.

The King was praised a hero for saving the future Queen and his childhood friend. Only Liam and Drake knew the truth of their relationship, until Riley saw them at a Beaumont Bash, groping and kissing desperately in a corner of a deserted room. Feeling her stare, Drake’s eyes opened, and he tore himself away from Liam.

The Lady raised a knowing eyebrow before rejoining her date, Rashad Domvallier.

Life went on:  There was a royal wedding, where the both the groom and best man got shit-faced drunk and stumbled off to disappear somewhere. Rashad proposed to Riley, who accepted. On their wedding day, everyone congratulated the businessman and future Duchess.

Rashad packed for a business trip on their wedding night.

It was inevitable that Riley, Drake, and Liam would become close. Liam was stuck in a lifestyle he didn’t want. Riley was stuck was in a marriage of one; she and Rashad had spent a total of eight days together in six months of marriage. Drake had to hide his love. Riley couldn’t share or express hers.

But none of them wanted to cheat.

Liam and Drake belonged to each other, and Riley was in love with her husband. She could not and would not hold resentment over him providing her a lavish lifestyle. The trio began socializing: courtly events, public outings, sitting around getting drunk off liquor and laughing uproariously at jokes.

One afternoon, after seeing Rashad off at the airport yet again, Riley stopped by Drake’s cabin to see if he wanted to go to the Beer Garden for cheeseburgers and brews. She knew Drake never locked his door unless it was dark, or he was away. It was noon and his truck was in the driveway. Riley knocked once and entered. She heard noises in the kitchen and saw the King on his knees, his eyes closed in bliss. Drake’s cock was in his mouth, Drake’s fingers in his hair.

So it hadn’t been a drunken one-off thing.

The Commoner had his back pressed against a wall, his breathing heavy and uneven. His hips bucked against the royal’s face. Riley’s eyes traveled down to Liam’s cock, stiff and erect. She smirked a little to herself.

Crown jewels, indeed.

So caught up in each other, the men didn’t hear Riley’s intrusion. Quietly, she walked over to the kitchen table and sat in a hard, wooden chair and watched the two lovers. Her breath hitched when she heard Drake’s low groans as Liam squeezed his ass. Her fingers drifted across her blouse, pinching her encased nipples when she heard Liam slurp around Drake’s cock, his tongue dragging along the underside of the shaft. Her legs spread when Drake grabbed  fistful of Liam’s hair and began face fucking the country’s leader. She moaned when her fingertips edged under the lace of her panties and flicked against her clit.

Drake heard her; his eyes were wide as he pushed Liam away from his groin. “FUCK! BROOKS! What are you doing?”

“Don’t stop.” Riley’s voice was low and aching with need.

Liam grinned up at Drake. “Does the lady want a show, love?”

“The lady wants an orgasm!” Riley said as her fingers continued to play in her pussy.

Riley sat in the chair in the corner of the bedroom, watching the lovers kiss. She pressed the tip of her vibrator against her erect nipples. Liam and Drake paid her no attention as they stretched out on the bed, lips and tongues nipping and kissing exposed skin.

None of them heard the car pull up, nor the vehicle door close.

Outside the cabin, the Queen adjusted her dress and pushed her sunglasses further up on her nose. Every inch of Madeleine was elegance and poise. She was starkly out of place in the rural environment she reluctantly found herself in, but her husband wasn’t answering his phone. The French Prime Minister wanted to speak to the Cordonian King about partnering on a trade agreement. Madeleine offered to speak on her country’s behalf, but the French dignitary insisted that Liam be on the call.

The best Madeleine could do was re-schedule the call. And demand Bastien take her to where her husband was.

She looked around in disdain; why Liam insisted on spending so much time with Drake was beyond her. Her eyebrow raised at Lady Riley’s vehicle parked beside Drake’s truck. Her eyes narrowed. She knew Liam was fond of the future Duchess of Domvallier; the question was: how fond?

There were whispers of the King possibly having an affair with Riley with Drake being their beard.

Standing just a touch taller and straighter, Madeleine headed for the front door.

Today, I find out.

Tagging: @sirbeepsalot @jared2612 @katedrakeohd @jovialyouthmusic @hopefulmoonobject @amomentofsinclairity @ao719 @burnsoslow @marietrinmimi @annekebbphotography @merridithsmiscellany-blog @queenjilian @texaskitten30 @glaimtruelovealways @indiacater @forthebrokenheartedthings @kingliam2019 @bebepac @zaffrenotes @liyanin @liamxs-world @choiceslife @ac27dj @the-soot-sprite @gnatbrain @sanchita012 @anotherbeingsworld @atha68 @hopelessromanticmonie @amandablink @cmestrella @iaminlovewithtrr @cinnamonspongecake @lifeaskim @starrystarrytrouble @liamandneca @liamrhysstalker2020 @alyssalauren @yourmajesty09 @gkittylove99 @neotericthemis @twinkleallnight 

 #kinda long post #slightly ns*w #dcbbw answers #would you ever ask #I am an extra kind of chick #it’s a yes or no ask