#Tips for raising sexually liberated kids

[brwnadvcsy]

Section 5: Tips for Raising Sexually Liberated Kid - Zahra Ala

This writing was a slightly different outlook from ‘Raising Sexually Liberated Kids’, which may have had more to do with the story revolving around somebody else’s children, and their advice used with those children. Although I don’t plan on having children myself, I plan on working with them as a Social Worker in the Child Welfare division. Many of these children are not taught boundaries or consent and may not even understand what happened to them was wrong, leading to increased cases of CSA where abuse or neglect is present. Though I want to educate these children about what is wrong for others to do, and how to treat themselves, I do not want to sound like a sexual predator or some sick-minded adult attempting to corrupt children, so hearing realistic and appropriate methods of sexual education was incredibly important. I’m going to take several of these tips into my private and professional lives:

Age appropriate and ongoing conversations about sex

Checking in with children about consent, and if anybody has touched them or acted inappropriately.

Celebrate their mind, body, and spirit

Being open and honest

@fatbodypolitics

[yasminbenoit]

“A Romantic Partner Won’t Complete Me, Because I Was Born Complete”: How Identifying As Asexual & Aromantic Brought Me True Freedom & Happiness | Yasmin Benoit for British Vogue

There is a phase in our lives where everyone seems asexual and almost everyone seems aromantic. It wasn't until puberty kicked in that platonic relationships seemed to take a backseat. My peers stopped wanting to play together and started wanting to 'date' each other. That was when I started to realise that there was something different about me. I didn’t seem to be experiencing the same urges as those I was around. I chose to go to an all girls school in the hopes that – in the absence of boys – everyone would stop caring about sex and dating. It actually had the opposite effect. There was a sense of deprivation in the air and the heightened desire to project their sexuality onto anything and everything.  

Therefore, my lack of interest became even more obvious, and it became a not-so-fun game to work out the source of what should be troubling me, but hadn’t been until that point. Having a sexual orientation isn’t just natural, it’s essential. It’s part of being a fully-functional human being. And to be romantically love and be loved by another is the ultimate goal. It’s part of being normal, which made me both abnormal and puzzling. When your asexual, people think there’s something wrong with your body. When you’re aromantic, they think there’s something wrong with your soul. Even for a teenage girl who internalised all of Disney Channel’s “be yourself” messages, it’s never nice to have people publicly debate your supposed physical and psychological flaws.  

My nickname in school was “hollow and emotionless.” I was a joker with a decent amount of friends, but I was lacking something crucial, the kind of love that really mattered and the kind of lust that made life exciting...so I was practically Lord Voldemort with braids. I sat through the regular DIY sexuality tests, having my peers show me graphic sexual imagery, have very sexual conversations in my presence, and ask me inappropriately intimate questions to gauge how far gone I truly was. These tests lead to the development of theories, most centred around me having some kind of mental problem. After a while, you start to wonder if everyone knows something you don’t.

When they said that I must have been molested as a child and “broken” by the trauma, I wondered if I had somehow forgotten about sexual abuse that actually hadn’t happened. I looked at some of my own relatives with suspicion, the same people who would later ask me if I didn’t experience sexual attraction because I was a pedophile. It was suggested that I was “suffering” from my “issues” because I was socially anxious and insecure. The suggestion that my ‘issue’ was pathological stayed with me for a long time, but not as much as the widely accepted theory that I was mentally slow. Unfortunately, that one stuck. I was referred to as “stupid” and I started to believe that was the case. It would impact my experience in education for the next eight years, long after I realised that there was a word for what I was.

Asexual.

I first heard the word during one of the near-daily sexuality tests that I was subjected to. I was asked if I was gay, to which I said that I wasn’t interested in anybody like that – men or women. At fifteen, I was asked, “Maybe you’re asexual or something?” but it wasn’t quite a lightbulb moment. How could it be when I had never heard the word outside of biology class? After an evening of Google searching, I realised that there were many people with my exact same experience, complete strangers whose stories sounded so strangely similar to mine. I also stumbled across the word ‘aromantic,’ but at the time, I didn’t understand the need for it. "Wouldn't all asexual people be aromantic? A romantic relationship without sex is just friendship with rules,” I thought.

Either way, my discoveries showed me that I wasn’t alone, but that only half helpful. I now had an identity that no one had heard of or understood. Most didn’t believe that being asexual or aromantic was a real thing, and I doubted it to. I had been taught to after years of armchair pathologisation. If asexuality was real, why did no one tell you that being sexually attracted to nobody was an option? What if it was just an internet identity made up to comfort people with all of the issues that had been attributed to me? I didn’t have to go far down the rabbit hole to realise that asexuality, like many non-heteronormative identities, had been medicalised. What I had experienced as just the tip of the iceberg. As someone who hadn’t been prescribed drugs I didn’t need or subjected to unnecessary hormone tests, I was one of the lucky ones.

My activism would be my gateway to the community. Despite being the ugly friend at school, I ended up becoming a model while in university. I decided to use the platform I had gained through my career to raise awareness for asexuality and aromanticism. It gave me the opportunity to encounter a range of asexual and aromantic offline, it was then that I learned the significance of having an aromantic identity. There are many asexual people who still feel romantic attraction, as well as aromantic people who still feel sexual attraction. They have their own range of experiences, their own culture, their own flag, and like the asexual community, I was relieved to see that they are just normal people. These intersecting communities are not stereotypes. They weren’t just thirteen year old, pink haired kids making up identities on Tumblr to feel special. They were parents, lawyers, academics, husbands, girlfriends, artists, black, white, young, old, with differing feelings towards the many complex elements of sexuality and intimacy. Most importantly, they were happy.

I am proud to be part of both, and I know that while being asexual and aromantic, I am a complete person and I can live a perfectly fulfilling life. Since meeting members of my communities, I’ve become more open about my identities in real life, and a reaction I’m often met with is sympathy. “You must feel like you’re missing out,” “I can’t imagine being like that,” “It must be hard for your family,” “Do you worry no one will want you?” “How do you handle being so lonely?” “You’re so brave and strong,” “What will you do with your life now?” Even in 2021, a woman who isn’t romantically loved or sexually desired by their “special someone” is perceived as being afflicted with some kind of life-limiting condition.  

Asexuality doesn't make undesirable or unable to desire others. It is a unique experience of sexuality, not a deprivation from it. Even if it was, there is so much more to life than what turns us on and what we do about it. Romantic love is just one form of love, neither superior nor inferior to any other. Being aromantic doesn't mean that you can't love or be loved, it does not mean you are void of other emotions or capabilities. I am not lonely with my friends, family, co-workers and supporters. I feel confident not when someone wants to date me but when I meet my goals and form worthwhile connections with others. My success isn't determined by whether someone will want to marry me someday. What we want out of life is our decision alone, our sources of happiness should not be defined by our ever-changing, culturally relative social standards. The love of a romantic partner won't complete me because I was born complete. Feeling sexual attraction to others won't liberate me because my liberation is not dependent on other people.

Valentine's Day is on the horizon. It's an occasion that amps up the focus on (and the pressure to achieve) a very specific type of love and sexual expression, one that is actually alienating for people inside and outside of the asexual community. During a pandemic where many relationships have been strained, tested, formed or distanced, it's important to keep the diversity of romantic and sexual feelings in mind. Many expect me to feel annoyed or lonely during this time of year, but I actually feel empowered and excited by the way sex, romance and love are discussed more deeply around this time. These conversations are constantly expanding to become more inclusive for everyone, and that's what we need to see all year round.

https://www.vogue.co.uk/arts-and-lifestyle/article/asexuality-and-aromanticism

[friendlystarfruit]

Levi x slave fanfic

Hey anon my requests where temporarily closed  but what the hey, I'm assuming this is smut. Next time give more details (= ,I manged to keep it somewhat neutral, reader slave is obedient but wee bit cheeky/playful hope you like.

Sorry for any spelling or grammar errors I have dyslexia (=

Also for anyone who wants wholesome Levi smut please understand I can't make wholesome Levi x slave xD so just dont read this. well I could try but I doubt that is what this anon wants

(no minors allowed )

You've been working for scouts cleaning keeping up after them and looking after the horses.

You are a low ranking nobody, nobody even knows your name, but Captain Levi has noticed you many times.

You'd often see Levi just stare at you while you clean the windows, his eye would glare like daggers for minutes, it made you a little nervous but you liked the attention.

One afternoon you where raking leaves under the moon light and you heard Levi walking over to you, your heart beat faster as this short but seductive man approached.

"You"

"Y-yes Captain"

"Shine my boots" Levi growled throwing a cloth on your face and putting his boots right on front of you.

You shine his boots

"I wanna be able to see my fucking face in them worker" He hisses.

"Of course " Captain.

When you are finished Levi grumbles a little but seems satisfied.

"Any thing else?"

"You'll address we as Captain or Sir, and yeah there is, I need you to clean something else with your mouth" He signals to his crouch.

You are excited to serve the Captain ins such an intimate manner , you massage over his crouch and feel his cock harden beneath your fingers, Levi unbuckles his pants freeing his large erect cock. You smile “Captain it’s so beautiful “

“Get to work  slave “ The Captain growls persistent and his cock itches to be relieved by your warm lips.

You mouth his warm cock with your wet eager  lips , your lips engulf his cock and you massage your tongue liberally against the tip of his flushed mushroom headed dick.

Levi lets out a masculine breath of  pleasure and slightly thrusts his cock further into your throat.

You gag a little.

“Disgusting “ Levi pouts.

“I’m sorry Captain”

“Tch, I didn’t say stop”

You stimulate yourself while you stroke and such off Levi , your hands rub up and down his shaft and you literally make out with his cock.

You make eye contact with Levi his heart races and falls into a cliff of marshmallows , he tries to shake off his over excitement. Levi veers his face away blushing trying to hide his embarrassment.

You smile cheekily and raise your eyebrow , “I’m a doing good master”

Levi turns back to you but conceals his over excitement ,he grabs your hair and thrusts you on his cock.

“Yeah but you can do better slave”

Levi moans as he works his slaves mouth like a personal cocksleeve , the warm rubbing tickle the sexual nerve in his cock perfectly and he feels an orgasm build.

His cock violently convulses and he groans “Good fucking slave”

You take two loads , one down your throat and the other on your face.

Levi pants feeling satisfied “now mak-make sure to clean up this mess” he pants.

“And I wanna see you the same time tomorrow so we can do some more work”

Levi  pulls up his pants and fixes up his pants , he winks at you , (just kidding Levi would never ), he walks away with a cold blank face as if nothing ever happened.

You smile to yourself and speak to him “See you soon master”

Levi for one second stops dead in his tracks as a dagger of pleasure stabs right through his heart, then he continues walking without turning his head behind him

[the-dead-sea-trilogy]

WIP Wednesday: Ophelia and the King’s Madness

expected to be about 100k+ words total, 50% complete

Hi and welcome to another WIP Wednesday!! Today I’m sharing Ophelia and the King’s Madness, which is a spin off from my Hardenshipping Dead Sea Trilogy that focuses on Colress, the novelty third wheel, and his time in Team Plasma.

Ghetsis hires Colress to look after his daughters who, despite being adults, live completely isolated from the outside world.  But Anthea and Concordia find themselves smitten with the man who brings so many strange and wonderful things to them.  But as their relationship develops, Concordia slowly discovers the truth of who he and her father really are, and must face the choice to leave everything in her world behind.

Hit me during quarantine while I was...... stuck inside all day and couldn’t leave my house........ funny how life does that to you.

There will be mild - but not explicit - sexual themes.  But today is just a preview!  Colress and Ghetsis dunking on one another.

I ripped this straight off my google doc so enjoy all my typos and funny musings ✨

Link on AO3

Ko-Fi Tip Jar

(Full text below the cut)

 Chapter 0.5??? (AT RISE?  CURTAIN???)

 Colress Achroma had seen every sight there was to see in Castelia City.  There was nothing new about the subway station, the cars, the lights, the people, the noise, and even his own apartment.   Nothing fulfilling about the bars, the clubs, the drinks, the parties.[---maybe mention something about the people who lurk in the subway station/swers and how weird they are--]

 And while it was objectively true that there were perhaps hundreds--if not, thousands--of new things to do--drink, fuck--every day, for Castelia City had no shortage of people like him--nothing      felt    particularly new.  Not since he had moved back from the Hoenn region, where he had completed his PhD, which had grown especially underwhelming in its own regard.  While he had certainly missed the sheer expanse of the city in that time--ever since getting his PhD--which had turned out to be nothing but dull barrier after dull barrier--he felt incredibly,      painfully     understimulated.  And so, he sat in the [bleak] alleyway in the dark, grimy underbelly of his hometown, spinning the petals of a white rose in his hand, waiting for something new.

 No, he wasn’t there for a hookup.  He knew better places than here for that.  He knew this underground tunnel system perhaps even better than the subways themselves, even as it ran adjacent to them.   Admittedly, the cryptlike sewer system had become something of a second home to him, ever since he was a kid.  Here in his favorite corner, for instance, there were still even smears of ash from when he had started a fire when he was 14 and narrowly escaped the police.  That, particularly, was the first of what was soon going to become many narrow run-ins with the law.  No, he wasn’t here to sell or solicit, even though he was told someone would meet him here.

 Okay so when put like that, it might as well have been a hookup.

 But as he sat perched up on a ledge, scanning shadows in the dim, yellowy light on the wall--down past the shadows that scooted across the filthy waterways--he saw a long, black shadow emerge from the darkness.  [add in the flower ‘he loves me, he loves me not’ thing?].   Although, it was more as if the cloak had pulled off and carried teh darkness with him.  The man was large; and wore a long, black cloak; his footsteps, which would have otherwise been almost soundless and serpentine, were interjected with a      thud     from his cane--forcing him to walk in an uneven, cacophonic rhythm.  He leaned into his left, and leaned into it hard.  In fact, with the hsape of the cloak, and the way he walked, even from here, it would appear almost as if the man entirely lacked a right hand.      

 Colress dropped another white petal down from the ledge.  “He loves me,” he said, then glanced up at the man and smiled.  He slid down off the ledge and stared up at the large man, the grossish yellowish light grossly illuminating his face.  “You came.”

 “I was told I could find someone here.”

 “Well, you found correctly,” Colress said, waving the flower around.  “Now, what exactly is it you want?  I’m not accepting clients, if that’s what you’re after.  But, there are plenty of girls down here who, if you pay them right--”

 “Enough,” the man said, spitting on the ground at Colress’ feet.  His voice boomed, nearly echoed down the chamber.  “I’m not here for a prostitute.”

 “The polite term is ‘sex worker,’ actually, but--”

 “I’m looking for a scientist, not a whore.”

 “Lucky for you, I’m both,” Colress said, smiling.  The man stops and stares at him, incredulously, like he doesn’t think he could be serious.  Colress flashes some sort of badge at him.  “How can I help you?”

 “You can’t be serious.”

 “Oh I am,”  Colress said.  They stare off again at one another, Ghetsis is like “Nevermind this has to be a mistake” and starts tot turn to go.

 “I thought you might be a little apprehensive, given our location, but I promise, only the best of the best gather in the nighttime here in Castelia City,” Colress said, reaching into his bag.   “After all, how would you have gotten your contacts to get ahold of me? I prepared for you my entire CV--” he extended the document to him [basically traps him from leaving].  The man raised his eyebrows, but tentatively accepted it.  “Although, you should know this is quite the unusual place for a job interview.”  [Colress gives him a devious grin.]  “I dig it.”

 “Jesus Christ,” the man muttered, scanning over the document.

 “What?  Overwhelmed and amazed at my outstanding credentials?”

 “No,” the large man said.  “I had heard the rumors.  I just didn’t believe they were      fucking true    .”

 “Ah, so I have a reputation I see!  That’s good news,” Colress said.  “You should have a clue as to who I am, then.  However, unfortunately I’m still not sure with whom I have the pleasure of--” Colress paused, now seeing the profile of the man in the low light.   “Wait a moment,” he said, beginning to recognize the face.  “I’ve see you before.  You’re…” [the memory comes to him] “You’re Ghetsis Harmonia,” he said.  “The leader of Team Plasma.  All those ones going around talking about all that ‘Pokemon’s Rights’ bullshit--”

 “Pokemon liberation.”

 “Oh and the      airship!      Quite a mechanical wonder, I have to admit.  I’ve always sort of wanted to get up close and personal with that antigravity machine,” he said.  He leaned in to Ghetsis with a sing-song tone.  “Are you here to give me a ride~!”

 “Only if you’re useful.”

 “Useful?” Colress asked.  “In what way?”

 [is he like a court jester to a king????]

 “I’ve already told you I’m not accepting clients.  That’s never been my game anyway.  Useful?  To Lord Ghetsis Harmonia… isn’t that what they call you?  My lordship?  My king?  Leader of a selfless, benevolent organization devoted to the freedom of Pokemon.  It’s quite ambitious, I have to say.  I’ve never really seen anything quite like it.”

 Ghetsis was silent.

 “But what could a proud, noble, and upstanding lord want with a--ah, what was it you called me?”

 [MAKE SUR EHE CALLS HIM SOMETHING BEFORE THIS]

 “‘A sewer rat’ like me…?”

 “Research,” Ghetsis said, shortly.

 “Oh?” Colress asked.  “Of what kind?  Surely we didn’t have to meet in such a remote location to go over my CV.  We could have gotten lunch.  Oh, or      brunch--!    ”

 “Enough,” Ghetsis said, more sternly.  “I won’t tolerate this level of [silliness? Pfffft No better word].”

 “Then what do you need of me, my lord?”  

 “I need you for research.  A very particular kind of research my own scientists believe you to be capable of.”

 “Oh, scientists from down here?” Colress said.  “Word certainly does get around.  But what makes you think so?”

  [Ghetsis hands him some kind of flyer from a battle or tournament or something]

 “How’d you do it?” he asked.

 Colress raised his eyebrows.  “What do you mean?”

 “Your thesis was about DNA and Mega-Evolution,” Ghetsis said.   “And this,” Ghetsis pointed again to the page.  “You enhanced its power for competition.”

 “I didn’t enhance anything,” Colress said, flatly.  The flatness in his voice, however, spelled sarcasm.  “The ‘power of friendship’ did that.  If I had enhanced anything, that would be cheating, wouldn’t it?”  Colress paused.  Examines Ghetsis.  “Of course, the ‘power of friendship’ in this scenario might involve a few extra nuts and bolts.   Nothing more.”

 [  Ghetsis like grunts or makes one of his Ghetsis noises.  Colress kind of turns and looks at him.  Ghetsis maybe says something like [We could pay you well to do it again] or something etc.]

 “But what would a noble Lord want with a researcher like me?   What would an upstanding and noble, pacifist organization like Team Plasma possibly want to do with Pokemon battling power?  And, with you coming to me in such circumstances, I’m beginning to think that you’re either horny, or Team Plasma isn’t exactly what it says it is.”

 “We have certain aspects that we keep only to the initiated.”

 “Well, it’s a cult, isn’t it?” Colress said.  “I mean, Team Plasma is a cult.  You all walk around in hats and robes, handing out pamphlets and preaching about love and destiny and higher wisdom.  And you at the very helm.”

 Pause.

 “Well, if this is a personal invitation to join your freaky little cult, I’m afraid to tell you I’m not really religious, and I don’t really plan on ‘being saved’ any time soon--”

 “I heard you weren’t satisfied with your day job.”

 “Day job?  What day job?” Colress laughed.  “I don’t need to work for a living.”

 “Exactly.”

 Long pause.

 “I do what I want.  I’ve been waiting for the right opportunity to come around.”

 “And what exactly is that opportunity, Colress?”

 [Long pause. Colress decides it’s time to spill.  Something pulls him to know to understand what Ghetsis is there for, air of malice.]

 “Have you heard of an organization called Cipher?”

 “Faintly.”

 “They were a criminal organization responsible for the ‘Shadow Pokemon’ incident that happened about a decade ago in the Orre region.”

 Ghetsis raised his eyebrows, interested.

 “They operated in secret laboratories in abandoned warehouses scattered throughout the region.  Their laboratory director, Ein, was behind the conception of the project,” Colress said.  “In his profile, he is described as someone ‘long on ambition and short on emotion,’ something to which I think we both can relate.”

 “Mhm,” Ghetsis siad.

 “Ein was the pioneer behind the creation of these creatures--Shadow Pokemon.  Pokemon capable of entering this hyper-empowered state.”

 [Maybe more nods.]

 “I always sort of wished I could talk to Ein.  But, unfortunately like any other criminal organization, they were eventually found out, and their records destroyed.”

 “So what was the point in you telling me all that?”

 “Please let me monologue.” [Say something about how like if he’s going to join an evil organization he’s only going to get a chance in this once in his life--also maybe it’s like he’s given ghim a sales pitch??]

 They stare at each other.

 “What they were doing was highly illegal, of course.  Though, I couldn’t stop myself from wondering, if, given the opportunity, I could do better.”

 [They have a moment where they’re on the same page.]

 “Cipher’s mistake was that the Pokemon were strong, but ultimately uncontrollable,” Colress said.  “Their approach, ironically enough, was too emotional.  This flimsy control maxed out Pokemon’s power, but brought them into a manic state that made them lash out uncontrollably.  This lack of control also made it an easy effect for anyone to reverse.  A handful of people were known for doing so.  They called it Purification.  ‘Opening the door to a Pokemon’s heart,’ that’s what they called it.  In fact, that’s even how Ein himself chose to define it,” Colress said.

 [Colress turns and then laughs].  “That’s what he called it.   Can you believe?  ‘Opening and closing the doors to the heart…” what the fuck does that even mean?  Some bullshit phrasing they made up to describe the process of divorcing a creature from its emotional integrity.  ‘Hearts’ and ‘doors’ aren’t measurable data.  It was a chemical they were using.  A wave.  Cipher’s true methods, as I’ve said, were unfortunately lost to time.  But, we do have the work of Professor Krane, who developed a more regimented procedure for purifying these Pokemon,” Colress said, smiling.  “It’s a wave.  They used EM waves.”

 “Congratulations.”

 “The way I see it, Cipher’s approach likely targeted the limbs, so to speak, rather than the creature as a whole.  This left weak points that Krane and other purification scientists were able to exploit.  If they wanted to truly be successful, they would have had to find a way to overrun the entire mind of the creature,” Colress said.

 “So success would mean absolute control?”

 “Yes,” Colress said.  “Precisely.”

 “That I can agree with you on.”

 Another pause.  “Theoretically, one would be able to use the work put forth by Professor Krane to reverse-engineer the way that Cipher created these Pokemon, and then build upon it for their own ends.  To do so would be highly unethical, of course, and cause quite a stir in most procedural review boards,” he said.  “So it remains a fantasy that I’ve considered, but never fully entertained.  The bureaucrats win out again, and for good reason, I suppose.”

 “That’s quite a tale you’ve spun for me.”

 “Isn’t it?” Colress asked.  “I always thought so.  But that’s not what we’re here about, is it?  We’re here for you,” [he turns to him and smiles].  “So, Lord Ghetsis Harmonia… cult-leader, king.  What is it that I can do for you?”

 “By the sound of it…” Ghetsis said, slowly.  “Exactly what you want.”

 Colress [does something], smiling.  “Then, gratefully, my lord, I am ever at your service.”  [Maybe kisses rose and tosses it at his feet?  → this ties him back to Concordia]

[deliriumsetin]

So here’s the thing...

I’m really freaking hard to scare. Unlike my cat that just booked it into another room when our UPS guy dropped a package off at the door. Perfect timing, Percy. Perfect timing...

Anyways! I have NOT had a good scare in probably two decades. No matter what fiction I pick up that promises to chill and thrill me, neither happens.

Now keep this in mind.

As of right now I am launching a business and yes, this will tie into the weird opener. Be patient, please.

I am launching Vox et Liber, a publishing house for ALL kinds of stories and ALL kinds of voices. I started working on this in November 2019, what do you mean that was only 8 months ago?! I originally thought the publishing house up after learning a bunch of facts about the publishing world over the summer.

VeL publishing will be a new kind of publishing and I can say that with 100% confidence because I am building this beast from the ground up, with the help of @hazandlouwho​, my fiance, and a few other amazing people!

Because this business is getting started independently, which means no investors, we are working with a VERY small amount of cash reserved for start up. Initially all works will be published digitally. We do plan on launching a Kickstarter in September/October to get enough funds to keep this going and to do it right which means getting stories published physically and sold to both indie bookstores and Barnes and Noble. Please be on the look out for that.

If any awesome people want to donate to help us not break my own personal bank, which will be easy to do since Covid-19 forced me to quit my job working with the public because I’m high risk and unemployment has kept me in limbo for going on 3 weeks, you can tip us on Ko-Fi by clicking here. ALL donations and funds raised go towards launching VeL and all projects under the VeL umbrella.

Bringing it around to the scares. VeL is launching our first project and we need all you awesome writers’ help. As of today we are opening submissions for our first ever anthology, Graveyard Visits. It’s horror with the theme of marginalized voices written as Own Voice fiction. Meaning stories written by marginalized groups with their marginalized groups as main characters.

Submissions are going to be open from July 1st until August 12th 11:59pm EST. Stories are expected to be between 2.5k-5k words in length. We will be paying $.02 per word as well as giving you a digital copy of the anthology. Submission Guidelines can be found here.

Now the whole me being hard to scare; I want to be scared. Submit your best, your scariest, and most bone-chilling stories.

Also, not so subtly gonna add a nudge to @thebibliosphere​ because I feel like she might have something up her sleeve. If not for this anthology then definitely our erotica one that will be announced later this summer.

We also have a podcast series in the works but I will do another post on that once I or my awesome soon to be brother in law (that’s STILL weird) have a moment to do up some graphics.

Click below for my rant on why traditional publishing right now is a soul sucking leech on EVERYONE.

On average with hardcover books an author is lucky to make $1.50 off each one sold and that’s only AFTER they sell enough to cover their advance. I also found out the average advance is like 3k per book. Some (not including the wicked big names who get a shit ton more) can get as high as 5k but others can get as low as a 1k. An author is lucky to see that twice a year (selling 2 books) because they have to spend time MARKETING book 1 instead of writing book 2. 

Keep in mind fiction hardcovers are generally sold between 19.99 (usually YA) or 29.99 (usually adult). Wicked big difference, huh? I get there’s a lot that goes into making a book, trust me I do but the split between should leave the authors getting around $4 per copy instead of less than $2. That $2.50 is just extra that the publishing house takes because it can.

Then there are the mass paperbacks which an author gets paid 50 damn cents per copy. Yes, those books retail for anywhere between 7.99 and 14.99 per book and sell way faster than hardcovers. Take it from an ex-bookseller.

Most books take on average 500 to 1,000 hours of work put into them before they even get handed off to the publisher for the FIRST time. At minimum that author sees an hourly return wage of $6 which is BELOW the United fucking States shit-tastic minimum peasant wage. We devalue the arts so fucking much- arg! But that can be a separate rant for another day.

Then after doing more research I realized just how off balanced the publishing world STILL is in the year of hell 2020. Don’t believe me click the link. Sarah Park Dahlen did a great article with a great graphic on it. 

As of 2015, yes I’m paraphrasing to continue to rant, children’s books had ALMOST more books about anthropomorphic cars, household items, and animals than there were books about Black kids, Asian Pacific kids, Latinx kids, or Native American/First Nation kids combined. Talking teakettles and their kindred got a whopping 12.5% while if you add up all the groups above you get 14.2%. None on there own beat out the freaking Easter Bunny! Of course books about White kids are the highest at 73.3%. Yes, this was as of 2015 but as an avid reader who reads middle-grade and up books for fun I can tell you nothing much has changed. Books about black kids maybe SLIGHTLY higher since the BLM movement (fuck yes progress!!) but I’d be heartstoppingly shocked if they beat out talking fucking trucks.

And that’s just race. From what I gathered with all the publishing houses less than 100 books with LGBTQIAP+ main characters are published each year. Wtf? And among that as of 2015 55% percent are about cisgendered males and 31% are cisgendered females. (Thank you @malindalo​, you are awesome and I’ve enjoyed meeting you at the Boston Teen Author festival the last few years.) So, just focusing on those 2 first letters, huh? I want to read a story about a kickass transwoman that has to deal with transitioning WHILE demons have torn their way out of hell. That would be badass! Holy shit, someone trans write that!

Same goes for people that live with disabilities whether they are physical or mental, including mental illness and neurodivergents like myself. If you haven’t figured out by this rant just how ADHD I am than you might need an ADHD in your life. My brain works differently and I would have killed growing up to read about characters that have to deal with what I deal with. We have Percy Jackson now and his all ‘verse but it’s not enough and it wasn’t published until I was on my way to college.

All that aside we now have all the bs coming out about what’s been going on in traditional publishing. About all the dickweeds that have been using their power and pull to sexually harass new authors, most often the new authors are young women. I unfollowed people and canceled a pre-order because fuck that shit! Also, I don’t give a fuck how big a name someone is if the hate they spew makes all their trans fans collectively feel like shit for not believing the simple fact that transwomen are women then they deserve to get dropped like the bag of shit they are. TERFs can fuck right off. 

All the publishing bs has made me more determined to get VeL off the ground because no, no, no. We’ll have none of that. All the listed above reasons can go play in traffic. We will be paying our authors better and taking care of them from day 1. We will be making sure our catalog is so damn diverse that you’d have to be looking at the wrong website to not find a story that you can’t see yourself in and lastly, if we hear of any of our authors pulling a Myke Cole or a Sam Sykes than they are dropped. It is in the best interests of our authors futures that they aren’t shitbags. /end rant

If y’all have any questions about anything of this, I think my dms are open or if I’m wrong just tag me. My days lately have been chained to my shit dell computer with one or both cats pinning me to the couch. I finish this up as Percy settles in on my legs. Also, thunderstorm is starting up and both are sleeping through it? If only I could be so lucky when the fiance and I have kids...

[itsyourchoicedevotionals]

Boggle The Mind

“All rise! For God now comes to judge as He convenes heaven’s courtroom. He judges every judge and rules over every ruler, saying, “How long will you judges refuse to listen to the voice of true justice and continue to corrupt what is right by judging in favor of the wrong?” Psalm 82:1-2TPT

One of the most unnerving events in my life was being a witness in the murder trial of my ex-husband. As a kid of only nineteen years of age, my testimony would unravel the defense lawyer’s plea of ‘temporary insanity.’ I was on the right side of the law. Still, I was shaking in my shoes.

There’s coming a day, when every person will stand before the judgment bench, in the courtroom of heaven. God will judge with mercy and with justice. His justice will balance the scales. Many without Jesus will suffer as His justice tips the scales towards punishment.

Many corrupt, illegal activities have been going on here in our beloved nation. Plots, and lies so corrupt, they boggle the mind. I’d been discussing this with the Lord, before going to bed. Then Papa God awakened me at 2:30 a.m. to talk. He sent me to Psalm 82. He said, “I’m bringing My justice to your land.” Does that raise your hair on end? It should.

What does God’s courtroom declare as priorities” V3-4TPT “Defend the defenseless, the fatherless and the forgotten, the disenfranchised and the destitute. Your duty is to deliver the poor and the powerless; liberate them from the grasp of the wicked.” Amazing. — Defenseless— who is more defenseless than a baby in the womb, or newborn? What is the radical left pushing? — Fatherless— an entire generation of children being exploited by every media for sexual activities. — Forgotten— widows and senior citizens left on shelves in nursing homes to die. Who has the left prevented from having visitors? Also they placed Covid19 patients into nursing homes to cause death rates to go higher? — Disenfranchised— definition per Google: ‘past tense: disenfranchised; past participle: **deprive (someone) of the right to vote.’ **deprive (someone) of a right or privilege. **ARCHAIC deprive (someone) of the rights and privileges of a free inhabitant— No I didn’t make that up… Pretty much covers everyone from middle class on down, right? — Destitute— Homeless population, those without the basic necessities of life. Manipulated by liberals. — Our duty— Pray for God’s justice to liberate and set free these people from wicked authority.

Almighty God speaks to the corrupt leaders and judges. V5-7TPT “But you continue in your darkness and ignorance while the foundations of society are shaken to the core! Didn’t I commission you as judges, saying, ‘You are all like gods, since you judge on My behalf. You are all like sons of the Most High, My representatives.’ Nevertheless, in death you are nothing but mere men! You will be laid in the ground like any prince and you will die.”

Boggles my mind. I’ve read the Psalms in TPT, and never even noticed this chapter. When God wants to turn a scripture from logos-written to Rhema-living, He breathes life into it. Therefore I declare to you: This is what’s coming quickly— V8 “All rise! For God now takes His place as Judge of all the earth. Don’t you know that everything and everyone belongs to Him? The nations will be sifted in His hands!”

Are you ready for what’s coming? The day in Yahweh’s courtroom will be brought here as we plead for God’s justice on earth, as it is in heaven. This is as close as our breath. It’s your choice. You choose.

PRAYER: Sovereign God, righteous Judge, thank You for revealing the corruption, and destroying it. Remove it from out nation, please. Help us, we’re weak willed and gullible sheep, in Jesus Christ’s name I pray.

by Debbie Veilleux Copyright 2020 You have my permission to reblog this devotional for others. Please keep my name with this devotional as author. Thank you.

[gotatext]

                   hllo ! i’m nora ( she / her, 24, gmt ) crawling back to this rp once more like the dirty sewer slug i am !! i just can’t get enough, baybeyyy ! u may remember me frm such roles as alma putnam, rory bergstrom, bridget matusiak or greta o’driscoll 2 name jst a few.... sure there were more over these long years, bt the show must go on.... this is mimi, she’s dogmatic, tenacious n single-minded 2 the point of recklessness, she doesn’t like handouts n she’s funding her degree through her onlyfans account n moaning abt shit on tiktok. we love 2 see it !!  slam that like button n i’ll creep into ur DMs like the slippery worm i am   OR u can discord me at that bitch carole baskin#8664.   a humble pinterest.

『ALEXA DEMIE ❙ CIS-FEMALE 』 ⟿ looks like MIMI MARTÍNEZ is here for HER SOPHOMORE year as an ARCHITECTURE AND SOCIAL ANTHROPOLOGY student. SHE is 22 years old & known to be STRONG-WILLED, GOAL-ORIENTED, ARROGANT & EASILY BORED. They’re living in MORIS, so if you’re there, watch out for them. ⬳ nora. 24. gmt. she/her.

this is p embarassing but i actually originally wrote mimi for a discord rp based around love island asgjag dont laugh at me but it was so chaotic n someone deleted it w-out telling any of us so i lost her bio.... all her threads....e verythin.... it was mad. but anyway we startin from scratch w this intro so bare with

mimi is a really extra character so when trying to flesh her out i thot of the most extra thing i could do n made a colour coded mindmap with watercolour paints detailing her values, aesthetics and early life. shoot me

background: she grew up in a trailer home in boulder city, abt half an hour from vegas. her mom had worked in a vegas casino for most of her 20s but relocated to boulder city for a slower pace of life / lower crime rate when she started having kids. mimi has 2 older brothers n she’s the youngest. has that invulnerable younger sibling complex n basically thinks nothing can touch her. very confident in her own intelligence and her ability to get shit done 

has mexican ancestry on her mom’s side. doesn’t know her dad. was raised with spanish catholic principals n found it all very stained glass windows and extra n that’s why she was kinda drawn to the decadence of vegas and all these massively high key aesthetics, like dia de les muertos was her fave thing growin up just bcos the pure feel of the festival and painting a sugar skull on her face n being able to party on the streets in a flower crown where everyone was kinda anonymous but together in this celebration

in boulder city her mom worked as a carer as there’s a lot of retirees there. mimi really resented the slow pace of life, longed for some fucking energy n life. she was a cheerleader in school but outside of school there wsn’t much to do except practise stunts and go on bike rides.  occasionally they’d get dressed up and catch a bus to henderson, the next biggest city for them to get tht sweet night life

her teenage years consisted mostly of hanging around the renovated motel blocks used as housing projects n tanning by the pool. very florida project if you’ve seen that. she reminds me a lot of the mum in that. also she started working as an avon rep going door-to-door when she was 16 bcos she wanted to have her own income. like as young as 14 she’d decided she was smart enough to go to college but she didn’t have the money n her family didn’t really see it as a worthwhile thing, her mom was very like the mom from matilda “you chose books.... i chose looks!” which i think is where a lot of mimi’s more shallow / appearance-driven traits come from

wasn’t really ‘cool’ until high school. before that she was a bit of a lisa simpson type. won a spelling bee when she was 9. was in the mathletes squad in middle school. when she went from middle school to high school she started cheer and tried to reinvent herself basically. always been very concerned with social mobility and keen to socially climb, like when she enters a new situation she’ll find out who the alphas are and quickly try n befriend them

when she turned 18 she moved out and went to vegas despite her mom hating the idea bcos it was everything she’d tried to get her kids away from. she worked in the clubs there for several years as a shot girl, a table dancer, n eventually she started workin behind the bar in a strip club. in the club it ws really hard to resist becoming a dancer bcos of the sheer amount they made in tips. no one really pressured her into it she just eventually decided tht it was way more logical to do it while she was young n fit and had the stamina and ppl were willing to pay to see her body so she started taking pole fitness lessons. she also started working as a cam girl around this time

working in vegas strip clubs is basically whats paid for uni. like she didn’t go at 18 like most of her friends did bcos she didn’t have the money and she didn’t want to feel indebted to a college like she had to compete for her place and not put a toe out of line bcos she was on a scholarship. she was determined to pay her own way and it took 4 years of working really hard and saving n even tho she was working in vegas she basically never went out bcos every penny she had needed to go on uni n thts how we get to radcliffe baybeeyy

part 2  - interior / values / personality

values: the aesthetic !! literally loves the aesthetic so much. everything she owns is super embellished, she’s a pop socket gal, her dell laptop is covered in glitzy stickers, she always has acrylics n probs makes nail art videos on tiktok. really tuned into tiny details like painting a little hello kitty above her eye which translates into her degree when she’s doing small-scale mockups of town plans n stuff... she jst puts so much detail into them. ppl often get surprised when she tells them she does architecture but it makes so much sense bcos she grew up in a trailer park n was always thinking about ways the space could be more efficiently used, like she loves re-conceptualising neighbourhoods, definitely spent hours on sims as a kid. she also grew up near hoover dam n so loads of school trips they just took them there n she was like.... this is tight but it could be cooler.... where’s the passion....

massively into photography, has such a neat instagram feed like everything just compliments the tones in the next post like mMMM. idk if any of u know any architecture students but this is literally the one constant i can find…. like they all have super good instagrams feeds. is that bitch that will take 40 fake candids of u in a row at different angles to get u the perfect profile picture cos she understands the importance of marketing urself and having an online #brand

has wire rimmed glasses that she doesn’t need to see BUT they r like a magnifying glass for when she’s working with really small materials to do a mock up of an urban plan, and also just sometimes wears them for the aesthetic bc she’s such a pinterest bitch

assassination nation is such a big mood. literally the aesthetics of that and lily colson’s whole brand of feminism and nudity not being inherently sexual but at the same time wanting to profit off that bcos why the fuck shouldnt she use a corrupt system to her advantage is incredibly mimi

literally a human personification of a bratz doll both in attitude and fashion sense

somehow simultaneously gansey in the raven cycle AND elle woods in legally blonde? the two genders 

values cont bc i started rambling: her independence and freedom. being the best at any given task she sets her mind to accomplish because she is unable to accept failure. social mobility. sexual liberation. interested in the psychology of sub-cultures and how ppl form groups and interact w each other and cult identities which is why she minors in anthropology. pro-choice. pro-weed legalisation. pro-sex worker rights. very activist.

aesthetics tht remind me of her: von dutch. a strappy cami top that says ‘please do not do coke in the bathroom’. low-waisted jeans that show off her belly button piercing. acrylic nails tapping against a heavily embellished second-hand dell laptop. heart shaped sunglasses in every colour. translucent stripper heels with barbie doll heads and plastic spiders in the heel. spraying champagne you cant afford all over the walls. narcotics in a heart shaped locket. an amazon wishlist full of lingerie linked on your tinder profile. sex tapes recorded on VCR. a religious devotion to waxing clinics. necking shots like you were born to do it.

she’s an enfj type which makes her pretty charismatic and confidence, like she has a fierce kind of energy to her, but she’s also super unwilling to accept criticism, dogmatic and can only really see her own way of thinking, quite ruthless when it comes 2 other ppls emotions despite having a poor control of her own and being prone to turbulence / throwin a bitch fit in the craft lab. easily bored. competitive. self-assured to the point of arrogance. forceful. adaptable. usually more rational than emotional but occasionally loses the ability to make rational decisions when blinded by a need for perfectionism.

very goal-oriented. money motivates her. money and clothes. she wants to look bomb while earning big bucks. when she gets her mind set on a project it literally consumes her she will forget to eat and sleep? i don’t know her.  like when a final design project is due for architecture she’ll be up all night doing adderall and speed to keep her awake working on the placement of a single tree for ages cos its gotta be perfect

loves chaos. will spill your secrets and pretend it was an accident. will always be that gif of kim kardashian sipping her tea while drama unfolds around her. lives for the drama like that gifset of bratz when she comes running and gets her phone out to record a fight.

im makin her sound like a really bad person but hopefully she’ll be somewhat likeable she can be very charismatic and endearing and she’s naturally quite funny. also now she’s finally in college and doesn’t have to worry so much about money she actually allows herself to party n bcos she denied herself of it for so long she kinda makes up for it by going p wild like will be the girl climbing on to stage to crowd surf at gigs or doing a summersault off the bar and being escorted out by bouncers, thats the energy were looking at, pure dionysian hedonistic impulse

really gd at talking her way out of shit like parking fines. so good at being an ‘im baby’ girl and often dumbs herself down to figures of authority to appear less like a threatening ball-breaker and more like a confused fiat 500 girl who didn’t know red meant stop she thought it meant slow down

listens almost exclusively to female artists. has fergalicious on repeat when she does squats infront of the mirror n just the biggest fergie stan. also lana del rey’s whole vibe is massive mimi energy

ok ya thats all i have for now..... hopefully this is somewhat coherent and not just garbage.

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[harrymoots]

Very Funny.

The house felt anomalous as soon as I walked through the door. It felt empty, like no one was present. Harry hadn’t come home yet, like expected. Not that it was a bad thing though, he always lets me know when he’s going to arrive home late. Like today. It usually has to do with extra touching up on song lyrics or Harry sometimes would not leave a studio until at least one of his songs are done perfectly.

I made my way towards our shared bedroom, heels in one hand and my jacket in the other and sat at the edge of the bed. I dropped my belongings on the floor as they landed beside my feet and leaned back until my back hit the bed. As I laid there staring up at the ceiling, a more dense forlorn feeling overcame the atmosphere around me. The sudden realization that I hadn’t actually seen or heard from Harry since five a.m. this morning. I turned my head to glance at the digital clock that sat on the dresser on the left side of the bed, and saw that it just hit nine in the evening. With a exaggerated sigh, I lay my pounding head back on the bed and shut my eyes to relive the slight pressure it possesses.

~

About an hour later, a earthquake-like slam of a door awoke me from my quick slumber. Had Harry not gotten home yet? The sound of heavy boots stomp louder as it approaches towards the bedroom and soon enough my inamorato is making his way towards me with a lechery look in his eyes. Still laying down I prop myself onto my elbows, squinting my eyes a little due to the rooms brightness. “Hey Ha-“

My words were cut off by Harry’s lips, as he presses them to mine eagerly. He climbs over my body and leans forward so my back once again falls on the bed. With his body pressed closely against mine, Harry starts to move his mouth hard and slowly causing me too perform the same action.

After a while of heated lips pushing and spit swapping, I raise my hands that were once gripping the bottom of Harry’s hoodie towards his face to gently pull away from his desperate affection. As soon as our eyes meet, I noticed the wild glassy hungry look he retains usually only present when we haven’t seen each other is months time. Basically when he’s away on tour or working on a project in different countries. Although, I do love when Harry is this loving towards me, a frown makes its way between my eyebrows. We obviously had kissed each other farewell before we trudged ourselves to work this morning. Maybe he’s had a rough day and needs a little liberation?

“Baby?”, I draw his attention from my moving lips, but I don’t begin to speak until his green dreamy eyes meet my own again. “You okay, hun?”

“Yes..”, he presses a quick peck to my mouth before speaking again. “Just missed you...” Harry dips his head in between my chin and collar bones to start trailing soft damp kisses down my neck. “... so much.”

“Yeah?”, I questioned. Harry hummed in response. The soft smile that adored his face made my heart flutter in ways no one else could. Still gawking at the beauty in front of me, an idea slowly formulated in my head causing a devious smile to appear on my face.

“No.”

“What?”

“That smile.”

“What smile?”

“Whatever you’re thinking up in that bread box-“, BREAD BOX!? “-has to stop.” Did he just call my brain a bread box?

“Did you just call my brain a bread box?”, I asked accusingly. “What the heck does that even mean? Are you calling me dumb? I can assure you I am not dumb. Who went to college? Exactly. Me. Th-“, I was cut off by Harry’s booming laugh. Face scrunching up and body shaking of laughter, Harry hid his face in my neck as he tried to calm his cackling.

Soon after he was done, Harry raised his head from under my chin and looked at me in the eyes. “I was only kidding, love. I know that devil smile anywhere, what are you thinking about?”

Instead of replying I shoved Harry off of me, landing on his bottom on the bed. Quickly grabbing a pillow next to him, I swung it back over my head chucking it so it landed on top of his head. Harry sits there frozen from my mischievousness as the pillow slowly slips off of him causing his short brown curls to hang over his face. It was my turn to laugh loudly as I bended forward and clutched my stomach.

“You think that’s funny, huh?” Harry breathed out a chuckle steadily getting up from the bed. He began to take slow torturous steps towards me.

“Very funny.” I replied with a smirk on my face. Every single step he took closer, I took a step back.

Taking a glance at the wide open door using my peripheral vision, I bolted towards it. As I began running towards the kitchen, passing the living room, I heard Harry hot on my heels panting behind me.

Rounding the kitchen island, both of us on either side, we stood there breathing heavy and anticipating on who’s going to make the first move. Already thinking ahead, Harry runs around the left of the island reaching to try and grab me but I push away from the counter and start sprinting the other direction before he can catch me.

Maybe this idea wasn’t the best i’ve ever induced. Funny? Yes. Smart? No.

The second I move my right foot in front of me, my left foot decides to relinquish from under me causing it to twist and buckled so I fall face flat on the ground. In the next few moments a sharp stabbing pain moves from the tips of my toes to my now sprained tibia.

Harry is quick to crouch down beside me, still huffing softly due to our wild goose chase not a minute ago. “Oh my god.” He tried to stifle his laughter, unknown to the fact that his girlfriend just twisted her ankle upon falling on the floor. My pained whine filled the room as I tried to push myself off of the ground. Unsuccessfully able to do so, Harry wraps his arms around my torso in attempts to lift me up himself. “Honey? Did you fall too hard?”

“I think I broke my ankle Harry!”, Now fully standing up, all my weight on my right non-injured leg, the pain intensifies more leaving me to groan loudly.

“Wha-“ My statement catching him off guard, almost completely letting go of me before I fall on my face again. “Are you serious?”

“Of course i’m serious! These tears seem fake to you?!” As soon as Harry drags my injured self to a chair nearby, he finally takes notice of the never ending stream on my face. “Oh shit, oh shit! Okay... let’s umm- let’s-“, Harry stumbled on his words, clearly not knowing how to take charge of the situation.

I spoke before he could get another word in. “Maybe we should go to the emergency room?” I took a moment to closely inspect my leg. It felt so much worse than it looked. “It hurts so bad. We need to go now, please.”

Harry rushes out of the room to go turn on the car while I wait for him to return. The second he returns to the kitchen I start to lift myself by pushing off the chair below me, but Harry is quick to wrap his arms around my back and under my calf’s to hoist me up and carry me. He walks, with me in his arms, outside to the car and carefully places me on the passenger side of his vehicle. Getting situated on the drivers seat of the car, Harry starts the twelve mile journey to the hospital.

~

The doctor's office that we were instructed to wait in as the doctors get my x-ray results ready, was cold and very small. I sat on the examination bed, left leg stretched out on top of the surface and my right leg dangling off the edge. My ankle still throbbed painfully, less excruciating than before, under the gauze that was wrapped around it tightly. Harry sat beside me on a different seat. His right leg bouncing as he looked back and forth at my face and my bandaged limb. Fretting over the fact he thinks it’s his fault that we’re here at the hospital.

“Hey,” Harry’s eyes shifted up to meet mine. “Can you like, maybe not stare at my leg like that.” I took a moment to sigh before continuing. “I told you, i’m the one who started messing around. I did this to myself, don’t worry about it. Be glad I didn’t bang my head on the floor and die.”

Harry glared at me as he heard the last sentence while I chuckle at his expression. “Don’t joke like that.”, he pouted, laying his head next to my foot and slowly and carefully starts to caress my leg above my injury. “I’m just a little mad at myself.”

I stood up straighter when he said that. “Why would you be mad at yourself? I told you-“

“Yeah, Yeah. This isn’t my fault, I get it. I just... It’s just every time we horse play or run around the house like idiots, you always get hurt somehow. And I always give in to your little games.”

“Oh, please.” I waved him off as I continued. “You love it when we mess arou-“

Harry cut me off before I could continue my sexual innuendo. “Remember last year, at mums house?” I shifted my eyes upward as I regained memory of that awful day, week actually. “Oooooh”, my face twisting into a look of grimace. “Yeah, that was pretty bad.”

“Pretty bad!?” Harry shrieked leaning back in his chair suddenly. “You convinced my whole family to play tag in the back lawn, slipped on wet concrete trying to tag me, then fell and almost shattered your collar bone completely.”

That game of tag at Harry’s family reunion last year, was the most intense game of tag ever. His family never did physical activities together like I did with mine. They all were so exuberant about the idea when I introduced it to them. Harry obviously being hesitant, knowing I can be a right klutz sometimes. It did end very horribly with me in the emergency room like I am now. “Your family had so much fun though.”

“Yes they did indeed.” Harry leaned forward again, this time laying his head on my thigh that was stretched out on the examination bed. He continued to speak as I ran my fingers through his hair softly. “Also, the last time they’ll have that much fun, because you are banned from any future family events from here on out, young lady.”

“Okay, dad.” I stopped my hand, still moving in his hair. “It’s okay though. Your mother loves me. She’ll invite me instead.” I yelped as I felt Harry sunk his teeth agilely into my inner thigh. I pulled at his hair slightly removing his head from my lap. Before I could scowl at him, there is a knock on the door in front of us and a second later a different lady than before walks in.

~

After reviewing the x-ray scans, Harry breathing out a sigh of relief that I didn’t have yet another broken bone, we picked up my pain killers from the front receptionist and got into the car. Only with a little extra help from the valet guy outside this time, due to the new set of crutches I was instructed to use for the next week and a half or two.

When we pulled up to the driveway and into the garage, Harry got out first and assisted me in getting out of the car. With one crutch on my left side and my boyfriend on the other carrying the second one, he directed me straight towards the living room. I plopped down on the couch with a heavy sigh. This was already going to be an annoying two weeks, I can feel it.

“This is going to be hell.” I say motioning to my leg, propping it carefully on the living room table. The slight throbbing was still present, realizing it will continue like this for the next couple of days I let out a groan.

“Well..”, Harry walks over to come and sit next to me.

“Don’t say it.”

“That’s what you-“

“Stop-“

“That’s what you get.” Harry finished with his playful smirk. I grabbed a throw pillow and jabbed it at his stomach, causing him laugh loudly.

“Let’s see who’s the one laughing when I chase you around and make you fall. Then you’re the one in the emergency room next.” I say as I cross my arms over my chest.

Harry tosses the pillow back to me, letting it fall on my lap. “Oh yeah? Let’s see if you can even catch me.”

Turning to look at him, I narrow my eyes at him and roll my eyes as I reply to his snarky comeback. “Ha. Ha. Very funny.”

~

Any feedback is welcomed! Enjoy! ❤️

[fiinalgiirls-aa]

GENERAL INFORMATION.

full name - jospehine harper ryan nicknames - joey, ryan gender / pronouns - she/her date of birth - july 12, 1996 place of birth - prescott, arizona / boot hill, arizona depending on verse citizenship / ethnicity - american / irish, english, scottish, icelandic. religion - atheist socioeconomic status / political affiliation - lower middle class; liberal. marital status - single, though may depend on verse. sexual & romantic orientation - bisexual. education / occupation - waitress. languages - english, some high school french and spanish

FAMILY INFORMATION.

parents - darby ( deceased ) & felicity ryan. siblings - heather, eldest sister ( deceased ); katherine, younger sister; edmund, younger brother. offspring - none pets / other - none. notable extended family - isabelle, niece and gabriel, nephew.

PHYSICAL INFORMATION.

faceclaim - maika monroe hair color / eye color - blonde / brown height / build - 5′6″ / slender tattoos / piercings - earlobes x 2. a few cartliage piercings. tattoo of ‘the moon’ tarot card on her left forearm. ‘x’ on her right middle finger. distinguishable features - big brown eyes, wild blonde hair

MEDICAL INFORMATION.

medical history - anxiety. known allergies - none. visual impairment / hearing impairment - none. nicotine use / drug use / alcohol use - very rarely will she smoke a cigarette or use drugs. drinks socially.

PERSONALITY.

traits - ( + ) amiable, stalwart, imaginative ; ( - ) melancholy, reserved, petulant tropes - small town boredom, desperately looking for a place in life, mommy issues, relative button, perky goth, cool aunt temperament - phlegmatic alignment - lawful good celtic tree zodiac - holly, the ruler mbti - infp hogwarts house - hufflepuff vice / virtue - envy / diligence likes / dislikes - fairy lights over a dark tapestry, old victorian houses, cats, a new pair of tights with no snags in them, a soft knit sweater, lavender lemonade, almond cookies, the sound of fallen leaves crunching underfoot /  people who dislike children, drunk drivers, the after-church sunday rush at her restaurant, ants, boys who are music elitists. quote - “she tastes like nectar and salt. nectar and salt and apples. pollen and stars and hinges. she tastes like fairy tales. swan maiden at midnight. cream on the tip of a fox’s tongue. she tastes like hope.”

FAVORITES.

food - bacon cheeseburger, and sweet potato fries. no mayo. drink - strawberry milkshake pizza topping - jalapenos, chicken, and pineapple color - black and pink music - dark synth, black or thrash metal books - we have always lived in the castle, by shirley jackson movies - suspiria, night of the living dead, uncle buck curse word - bullshit scents - peony, pumpkin, rain

BIOGRAPHY.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: disappearance of a family member, depression, death, car accident. DISCLAIMER: this biography was written for the group rp southouboundhq, but is mostly applicable to all verses.

josphine ryan is born the second of four to darby and felicity ryan on the hottest day in july. like her elder sister, she doesn’t have hardly more than a pale, peach fuzz or a gentle platinum swoop atop her head until the age of three. unlike her sister, joey hardly cries–even as a newborn–and never without reason. when heather learned to speak, she tried out every word, every syllable on her tongue–an intrepid speaker. joey takes her time and uses words deliberately, going from nothing to full sentences. the two girls are five years apart, but heather has been practicing this with her baby dolls for years. far apart in age, there are no closer sisters in villas adobes. as she grows older, joey thinks that, surely, there are no closer sisters in the world. it doesn’t change when the twins, katherine and edmund are born another four years later.

three girls and a boy, the ryan household is a bustling one. the kids all look after one another, getting along as well as parents can hope. heather and joey; katie and edmund. it’s just like that. it’s always like that. darby is a prestigious lawyer and they kids grow up hearing the tales of his life as a district attorney in seattle. one night, when the twins are asleep, heather asks him why he left seattle–why he left the job he loved so much. darby ryan racks his brain. he can’t remember. no matter how many times he’s asked the question, he can never remember.

one day, near the end of september, darby ryan walked out into the desert. he walked out into the desert and it was the most normal thing of all. he walked straight down silver mine road and felicity says that even one of the dominellis, or someone else over there near the funeral home, saw him walking down there and tried to wave and say hello, but he wouldn’t give them the time of day–didn’t even look them in their eyes. the cicadas sang their symphony to the desert night while darby ryan walked straight down that road , normal as can be, and he never came back.

the impact of grief affects her mother profoundly–how can you put a wandering spirit to rest?–but between the five of them, they make do. heather and joey, as the eldest girls, make sure the younger ones are looked after while felicity works two jobs. even after heather is on her own and starting her own family, she makes sure her siblings are taken care of. she fixes the lunches for the younger ones and trades out babysitting shifts with joey when she needs some solitude for homework or a trip to drive-in with margie and the girls.

joey is nearly seventeen when heather and her boyfriend die in the wreck that leaves joey with a broken arm and a small laceration to her forehead. hit by a drunk driver, joey’s niece and nephew are orphaned in one tragic accident. if her mother had been distant following her father’s disappearance, she is beside herself over the loss of her eldest daughter. within a year, felicity has lost both her job as a dental hygienist at old main street and as a waitress at the turquoise star diner. she rarely leaves her bed, let alone the house except to scrounge up enough cash for a trip to the liquor store. everything falls on the narrow shoulders of the eldest remaining daughter. still a girl herself, joey is hardly eligible for custody of her siblings and heather’s kids. on top of raising four kids, she makes efforts to maintain her mother’s image–only absent in public out of dedication to being a stay-at-home mother. the social security payments aren’t enough and joey starts working through high school. still a girl herself, she watches her sister and her dreams die in that same year.

she would’ve been a writer. some clever girl who’d spin words onto paper like she wraps blonde curls around her finger. outside this wretched place–a true boot hill, her family plot–she would have found adventures and peculiarities worth writing about. in boot hill, joey ryan finds only tedium and loss; boredom and death. history loves repeating itself like a chorus, or the nightly siren song of the cicadas, and the high school grad takes a waiting job at the same diner her mother was let go from. it paralyzes joey from making new connections; she tears up every phone number written on the back of some credit card receipt left on the table of the diner’s booths. she’s already raising four kids and her mom, most days, as well. she can’t afford a dream or a family of her own.

with the twins now in their senior year of high school, joey knows that they will move on–searching for their own lives, moving out to rent an apartment with a best friend, a lover. there are heather’s kids, seven and nine, and her mother that need looking after, and yet she feels more freedom now than she has had in the last six years. maybe someday she can get out of this place–even if it means leaving her loved ones behind. maybe someday she’ll walk out onto silver mine road, normal as can be, while the cicadas sing. she’ll walk right down that road like it’s the most normal thing in the world. she’ll pass right by a dominelli or maybe a close friend without a word or even a polite nod. maybe she’ll finally hear the cries of the amen shrieker. maybe she’ll hear nothing at all.