#did the useless lesbians' job for them

[stealingpotatoes]

If Baylan is traveling the galaxy looking for cool Force stuff, does he ever meet Bendu? If so, how does that go?

omg can you imagine if he said he wanted to do that in front of thrawn tho

[imsofreakingtired]

a fic based on this incorrect quote 💙🦋 thank u @bbybhr for the idea :D

sour grapes

content warning(s): none, just fluff- this is the au where everyone is sane and happy. useless lesbians and their mutual pining. sevika is smart in many ways, but she's kind of an idiot when it comes to her feelings for you.

or, you fell first. sevika fell harder. wc: 3.2k words

"even if i come closer step by step i don't think i could hold your hand the love that sits at the top of the ladder- oh, i don't wanna be the one to get hurt (yeah, you'll hurt me)"

~~~

It’s only midday, but the Last Drop is bustling with activity. Humans, vastayas, even a Yordle here and there chatter over each other, and ribbons of laughter unfurl from their conversations as they call for another drink. 

You stand at the door, rolled papers tucked under your arm, and survey the crowded place. You have a meeting with the owner, Vander, but he’s nowhere to be seen—he could be getting something from the storage room….Or he’s late again from a date with Silco. In short, you’re looking at anything between two minutes and half an hour of waiting. 

Not a problem today. Your next client cancelled their appointment last minute, saving you a trip all the way up to Piltover—so you have luxurious time to spare. You find a small empty table near the corner, where you can sit with your back to the wall and look over nearly the entire bar. Your eyes wander from the aluminum make of the bar counter—that could be rebuilt with steel: more sturdy and much more sightly. You take in the simple design of the tables and chairs. It’s the details that excite you most, more than any wide-scale layout. The smallest touches could transform a room. And the people who frequent it most would feel it. Like magic. 

Gert walks over with your favorite drink. She sets it down in front of you, and the movement startles you out of your reveries. 

“Come here to daydream?” Gert says with a smirk. 

You raise an eyebrow at her. “Ha-ha. Actually, I’m waiting for your boss.” 

“He went out with Silco this morning.” 

“Of course he did.” You sip your drink. “Do you know when he’ll be back?” 

“That’s entirely up to his man.” Gert shrugs. “At least today isn’t as busy as most. You got something to run by him?” 

You pat the papers on the table beside you. “This is where all the magic happens.”  

Gert reaches for the blueprints, but you push them away. “Ah-ah. Don’t wanna ruin the surprise.” 

She shakes her head, gives a mock huff of frustration. “You’re so dramatic. Anyway, you got lucky. You don’t have to wait until Vander comes back—his contractor’s back in town today. You can talk to her. I think she’s here right now.” 

“Contractor?” 

“There she is.” Gert points to a table across the room. You strain to follow her gaze. 

Sitting at a table near the bar, deep in conversation with two companions you don’t recognize, is a short-haired woman you have never seen before. Despite yourself, your breath catches in your throat. 

No shit, the woman is attractive—broad shoulders, sharp face, bold features. You can see that from a mile away. But there is also an energy that ripples from her, a quiet authority and warmth that you can’t drag your eyes away from. Even looking at her from this distance, you can feel the intensity of her gaze, the concentration with which she listens to people. And her companions in turn listen to her. You can see it in the way they become respectfully still when she speaks, the way they lean slightly closer to her. 

You aren’t normally intimidated by people. You’ve worked in the interior design business long enough to meet all sorts of clients, and you’d grown pretty confident that you can handle anything. But this woman… 

“What’s her name?” you ask Gert, still staring. 

“Sevika. You just gonna ogle her all day, or are you gonna get on with your job?” 

You swat at her arm. Laughing, she goes away to take another order. 

Now you’re left with nothing simpler to do than to approach this unbelievably handsome woman. 

Sure, you think. No problem. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“...So I’m sayin’ to this sucker, ‘no, I think you have the wrong idea, bub, because I’m certain that I paid back the debt in full last week.” Huck wriggles forward in his seat, hands flying to emphasize his point. “Am I the idiot here or was I being conned?” 

“You need to keep the records,” Sevika says. “How many times do I have to tell you?” A half-smile plays  on her lips. Huck had the same problem to gripe about every damn time he came to the Last Drop. 

“I do keep the records,” he protests. “They keep disappearin’ on me. I think I’m bein’ robbed.” 

“Who the hell would wanna steal your lousy old records?” demands Syra, the baker. “I think you’re just losing your marbles…” 

Sevika laughs, her eyes drifting away from the table into the crowd. The day is clear. If Vander doesn’t decide to show up in another fifteen minutes, she’ll figure that’s her sign from Janna to take the rest of the day off. Maybe she’ll walk over the bridge, listen to the buskers. Pick up some food from the vendors. Make the most of the waning autumn sun. 

That’s when she sees you, walking over to her table. 

Your eyes meet. 

Later on, Sevika will insist that she noticed you first. She will tell you that she felt your presence from the moment you walked into the bar. As the old saying goes. She’ll swear that she remembered the moment crystal-clear: the jacket you were wearing, the way your hair looked in the light. 

Whatever she remembered later on, however, you will never forget the moment you first locked gazes with her. The dark bangs sweeping over the bridge of her nose. Those eyes. 

You approach with a confidence you barely feel, fighting hard to ignore your heart slamming in your chest. The professional smile you reserve for clients feels frozen on your face and you can vaguely hear yourself saying, “Sevika, right? I’m Vander’s designer. That is, for this bar. I was told I could speak to you.” 

You’re aware that she asks for your name, and you hear yourself give it. She offers her hand. You take it. Her grip is warm and strong. She never breaks eye contact. 

“Can I speak to you aside for a minute?” You ask. 

Her companions wave her away, and she leads you up the stairs, away from the noise and chatter of the Last Drop. You follow her into an office of sorts, strewn with papers, kids’ drawings tacked up on the walls. 

“Sorry about the mess,” Sevika says. “Boss thinks his kids are Zaun’s own artistic prodigies.” 

You smile. “It’s cute.” 

She clears away a space on the desk at the front of the room for your blueprints. “You’re in charge of renovations, yeah? Heard a lot about you.” 

“You have?” 

She helps you pin down the blueprints with books and paperweights. “Sure. Word gets around fast here.” 

“Sorry if I interrupted your conversation back there,” you say. 

“No, no. You saved me from it.” 

You must have talked about the floor plans, the construction logistics. You must have asked her about Vander’s intentions for the electrical infrastructure, the plan to finish the renovations in time for the dance that was happening a month from now. You must have done all these things, but you can’t remember any of it. You can’t recall whether you spoke about steel or silver, whether you suggested using wood or plaster. All you can think of is the distracting smell of Sevika’s cologne, the muscles of her forearms, the faint moles dotting her brown skin. When you part, she gives you her card. It has her contact information, her office address. 

“In case our middle man Vander decides to run away to his romance fairy tale again, while we work our asses off,” she says with a smile. “You can find me here.” 

When you leave the Last Drop late that afternoon, there’s only one thought on your mind. 

Janna help me. I am fucked. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

If she’s being honest, Sevika did not give you much thought at first. You were the good-looking young designer, full of a purpose and efficiency that she was quick to appreciate. She had heard of your work both in Zaun and Piltover, your specialty being shop interiors, restaurants, bars. And when she began working with you, she could soon see that the rumors had not been unfounded. 

She considered you attractive, of course: many a time she found herself looking a second longer at your face than she meant to, or remembering the color of a blouse you wore slightly clearer than was normal, just because you looked good in it. She would turn suddenly in marketplaces, thinking she caught a whiff of your scent. But she hadn’t entertained anything, even in her mind. She’d assumed that someone as attractive as you would obviously already be spoken for. 

She didn’t want to fall for a vision, an ideal. She didn’t want to risk chasing something she could never have. She didn’t have the energy for that. 

But it has been two weeks, and you have been coming to the Last Drop nearly every day—as the days draw closer to the dance, the renovation work has picked up speed. You’re lively with ideas, and not a detail escapes your eye. Preserve the playful theme. Add some dartboards. Silver filigree in the chairs and tables, and how about lining the beams with gold? 

And Sevika’s beginning to think of you more and more. You’ll say something to her, and she’ll remember the way your eyes brightened, the way the scarf sat around your neck, the way your hand rested briefly on her arm—but she won’t have the foggiest idea of what you said to her. 

She likes the way her name sounds on your lips. She likes the way you talk a little faster when you get excited. She likes…

What the hell are you doing, Sevika? Pull yourself together. 

But she can’t. She can’t push you out of her thoughts. 

One night, Powder helps with the closing up as you and Sevika sit at the bar, talking over last-minute plans for the room layout before the workers are called in the next morning. As Powder stacks the glasses and wipes down the bar counter, you lean over the diagrams of the Last Drop, talking intently. 

“...If we move the pool table to this end, and arrange the tables around in a rough semi-circle, it’ll clear the way for the platform,” you explain. “Then everything can be put back easier when the dance is over.” 

“Mm,” Sevika says. 

You look over at her. “You alright?” 

She blinks, gives a start almost as if caught at something. “What?”

Your brows crease slightly in concern. “You seem tired these days. I’m working you too hard, aren’t I?” 

“Yeah. No,” Sevika corrects, shaking her head. “I mean, no, you’re not.”

You can’t help but smile at her stutter. It’s the first time you’ve ever heard her stumble over her words—she normally speaks as if every word is calculated, every phrase thought over. “But yeah, you’re tired?” you quip. 

Sevika laughs, awkwardly. “I’m fine.” 

“Can’t fool me,” you tell her. “I’ll let you off for the night. I think we’re mostly done here, anyway.” You gather up the papers and give Powder a little salute. “Bye, Powder!” 

“Good night!” Powder waves. 

She waits until the door closes behind you before flipping the cloth over her shoulder and grinning at Sevika, hands on her hips. “You like her.” 

Sevika’s head snaps up. “No, I don’t,” she says quickly. Too quickly. 

Powder gives an exasperated sigh. “Between you and Mylo, I feel like I should be getting paid for the amount of setting-up I gotta do.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sevika grumbles. 

“Come on, auntie. Everyone and their mother can see she’s into you. Why don’t you ask her to the dance?” 

Sevika feels the heat climb up her neck. “That’s ridiculous. She isn’t into me.” She glances at Powder, who’s still giving her the I can’t believe you stare. “...Is she?” 

Powder rolls her eyes. “Please tell me you’re joking.” 

“Well, has she told you anything?” 

Powder leans forward, elbows resting on the counter. She fixes Sevika with a pointed look. “Do you need people to tell you it’s hot in the middle of summer?” 

Sevika sighs. “I don’t want to waste my time. She could be seeing someone.” 

“Who could she possibly be seeing? She’s holding out for you!” 

“Why would she be holding out for me?” Sevika retorts. “Look at her.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean….I mean she’s her, and I’m me.” Sevika throws up her hands, helplessly. “There isn’t a chance in the world.” 

“Hey, auntie,” Powder says, the teasing edge gone from her voice. “You never know unless you talk to her.” 

“I can’t,” Sevika says. She runs a hand through her hair. “She’ll probably laugh in my face.” 

“If I can prove to you she won’t, will you give it a shot?” 

Sevika looks over at her through her hair, and Powder thinks of the puppy she found hiding in the tall grass at the edge of town. The puppy and her aunt had this in common, she thinks with amusement—they carry their fears in their eyes. 

“The other day she was talking with Vander about the color scheme for the dance,” Powder says, “and she suggested purple lighting.” 

Sevika raises an eyebrow. “So?” 

“I was in the room, and I asked her why.” Powder snaps the cloth at the table once, then folds it neatly. “Guess what she said?” 

“Don’t try me,” Sevika mutters. She looks away, pulls her body back, because she realizes just now that she was leaning forward in her seat with apprehension. 

Powder laughs. “She said because it’s your favorite color. It slipped out, just like that. It was so obvious that wasn’t what she meant to say, but she said it. You should have seen her face.” 

Sevika wracks her brain for a moment in which she might have let slip to you that purple is, indeed, her favorite color. She can’t remember for the life of her. A small hope dares to sprout in her mind, but she stamps it down. “That barely means anything,” she informs Powder. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” Powder exclaims. “Who the hell dedicates the theme of a dance to a person they have no feelings for?” 

When Sevika says nothing, Powder pokes her in the shoulder. 

“I’m right and you know it.” 

Sevika huffs. “Isn’t it time for you to get to bed?” 

“I’m nearly eighteen, auntie. That line won’t work on me anymore.” As Sevika puts on her jacket, Powder switches off the lights of the bar. Before Sevika leaves, Powder calls out,

“There’s about a week left until the dance. Consider that your deadline!” 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The renovations are complete. The lights installed. The themes are decided, and Sevika’s crew is nearly done with the installations. 

Powder has told you, a bit mysteriously, you think, about some last-minute light change for the stage’s neon sign. Since she said it was urgent, you come into the bar near closing time. There are no more patrons; the place is empty except for Vander and Silco, talking over something with Sevika. Her back is turned; she doesn’t see you. Powder is leaning against the other side of the counter, talking excitedly as she wipes down some glasses. When she sees you, her face lights up. She waves. 

Sevika turns around to see who Powder is greeting. Her eyes widen slightly at the sight of you. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” you say hesitantly, “but Powder said something about the li—”

“Dads!” Powder says in a loud voice. “The lights. Yes. We need to go check the lights for the sign.” 

Vander looks up at the unlit stage sign, brows furrowed in confusion. “We do?” 

You see Powder shoot a meaningful glance at Silco, who catches on faster. He grabs Vander by the arm. “Yes!” He exclaims. “We do! What in Runeterra were we thinking, with the dance just around the corner!” 

Sevika stands abruptly. “I can do it.” 

“No!” Silco and Powder say in unison. 

“No,” Powder says again, “you stay here and show her the, um, set pieces you were building for the band.” As she ushers her dads out of the bar, Powder shouts over her shoulder: “lock up when you’re done, okay? The key’s in the storage room. Thank-you-and-good-luck!”

The door slams behind them, and the place is suddenly too quiet. 

You are utterly confused, and from the bewildered expression on Sevika’s face it’s clear she hasn’t got much of a better idea of what is going on. 

Sevika’s still standing. She looks at you. You look away. 

She coughs, rubs a hand over the back of her neck. “You want a drink?” 

“Okay. Sure.” 

And this is how you find yourself alone with Sevika in an empty bar with a glass of wine in front of you. Just to give your hands something to do, you raise the glass to your lips. 

Sevika says abruptly, “there are no set pieces.” 

“I’m sorry?”

“What Powder said—ah.” She shakes her head, a huff of mixed exasperation and amusement escaping her lips. “She made that up.” 

You laugh. “Okay. I figured.” 

She looks at you the same time you look at her. This time, you don’t break the gaze. Her eyes are the clearest grey you’ve ever seen. In certain kinds of light, they shift into pale blue, like diamonds. Her brows, thick and defined. Her beautiful nose, her dark lips. You catch yourself looking at her mouth and turn away quickly, taking another sip of wine. 

Sevika’s voice drops as she says, “listen, I’m not good with games. So I’ll just get to the point.” 

The wine is hot going down. Or maybe it is just your burning face. 

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” Sevika says. 

You keep your eyes fixed on the table. Lined with gold metal. You had watched Sevika’s calloused fingers drive in every nail. 

“I’m probably gonna make a fool of myself,” Sevika goes on, speaking slowly, “but I need you to know.” She pauses. Her voice is steady, but you can see her nerves in the way her leg bounces against the chair. “And I wanted to ask…if you would be interested…I mean, if you might want to…”

You turn to her and rest your hand on her leg. She freezes. 

“Yes, Sevika,” you say with a smile, “Yes, I would love to go to the dance with you.”

She’s quiet for so long you start to feel nervous, that maybe that wasn’t what she was trying to say. Just as you start to pull away, just as an apology starts to form on your lips, she smiles back. Incredulously. Genuinely. 

There’s a gap between her two front teeth, how had you never noticed before? 

“Really?” Sevika asks. 

You laugh out loud. “Took you long enough. Thought I was gonna have to leave town without seeing the fruits of my labor.” 

A faint flush blossoms in her face, she shakes the hair out of her eyes. “I thought you wouldn’t want to.”

She means, I thought you wouldn’t want me. 

You reach out. She grows still at the touch of your hand against her cheek. Her skin is warm against your palm as you pull her face towards yours. 

And then there is the enormous silence of your lips meeting hers.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

notes: guys, this one possessed me. it is 1 in the morning and i am drained. why is fluff so hard to writeee 😭 anyway i hope you enjoyed <33

~~~

taglist~ @notlores @demothers-empty-blog @theyluvbix @archangeldyke-all @prettyinpink69  @intrnetrbl @mamas-evil-hag @sevikassluttywaist @iliterallyhavenoideawhattosay @lez-zuha @mascdom @tiyawnyana @shanesevikasfuckdoll @vamp1reg1rrrl @00valentina-writes00 @rinmarye @starrrcane

[myceliacrochet]

I feel so overwhelmed. I have no income, no stable place to live, and hundreds of people coming to me who need thousands of dollars each to avoid getting incinerated, starved, tortured. I make crochet -- when I can get supplies -- and I'm trying to make stickers, when I can get supplies... I'm not very employable and everything is so expensive and it's all falling on my roommate.

I need to hold a fundraising event

Everyone is either stretched to their limits helping or can't be bothered

I'm doing my best to reblog, follow, and react every single campaign I can that is either vetted or has a clean RIS. I'm telling myself that I'm doing enough by contributing art and promoting these campaigns, but the reality is people need money and I'm giving them condolences and things that may not help much.

I had a bit of success promoting Omar's campaign and foolishly believed I could get those kinds of results again. Tumblr staff is being beyond ruthless, attacking even the critical and dangerous vetting work people are risking their lives for on the ground.

I don't know what to tell people who are coming to me for help in what may be their last moments and I'm like "hey here have a shitty art I made that might make a miniscule difference but probably won't. All the best!" I try to respond through my actions instead of words because like Kurt Vonnegut said there's fucking nothing to say about genocide because no one's meant to say anything they're just meant to get blown up. So then I'm ignoring the people who most need help in the world, coldly turning away. So I say sorry and offer these small useless things as if it means anything and every day I lose more sanity and meaning in my life because doing less than what I can to help people not get genocided takes all the color out of my world. I can't imagine truly relaxing or enjoying anything until there's no genocide happening anymore, and I don't see that happening. I feel hopeless like I did in 2016 but this time there's no back door out.

Every time I start to work on something I feel hopeless like it won't work

I have to get my ass into gear, which means I need to:

- pick up my prescription for strattera, I guess I have that now. That will help me focus

- get back on my antidepressants as soon as Fatima's campaign hits $10,000. That will help me keep moving

- talk to other organizers so we can work together.

I am drowning, I am burning in this hxll created by my own culture. Every day they torture the children and the adults come into my DMs and scream help us please please someone help us.

All I can do is do my best every day. I'll keep moving forward

Doing something is better than doing nothing, gxddammit, which means I'm doing a good job I guess, it's just little comfort as I watch the children get engulfed in flames.

Like, I know I can't end all genocide on my own but there's got to be more effective things that I personally can do.

I guess I'll check out one of those lists of things you can do other than donating money

If anyone has yarn to donate and/or could cover shipping or help me find free yarn in my area, that would be so helpful. Because there's nothing I'd rather do than tune out and crochet most of the time and sell it for myself and others.

Please talk to me about how we can work together to help these precious people!!! I need to do more

@monstermashpotato @sylvianritual @gazavetters @determinate-negation @dlxxv-vetted-donations

@gaza-evacuation-funds @gazagfmboost @fly-sky-high-09 @90-ghost @nabulsi @halalchampagnesocialist @huzni @hussyknee @notallmensheviks @neechees @fuckyeahmarxismleninism @fayruz0-blog @gothhabiba @radicalgraff @marxism-transgenderism @marxist-lesbianism @voyagerprobe @workersolidarity @cheezbot @gayspacemonk @bogleech @slitherbop @butchniqabi

I guess I just need to work on my small business... Idek if I'm even helping by reblogging all this stuff, I'm just spending hours a day spreading stuff around to other people who can't really donate. I just seem to be wasting people's time who are going through genocide, I might even be only adding to their suffering. I don't know if I have the moral fibre to do this work, idk I just seem to cause bad things to happen to myself and everyone around me by dedicating so much time to reblogs instead of just securing an income, paying my bills, and being content to give a "reasonable" portion to genocide relief. I can't do that, I have to give all or most of myself but then I'm just a burden to my roommate and others. Or going all out and doing something really big that could really bring in the money they need

I'm sick but people need me

I guess what I'm seeing here is that I need to switch gears to working on crochet more and that will help me be able to help people and it will also be better for my mental health. I'll work on getting the supplies I need to continue. But idk I'll come back to this later and figure it out.

Thank you for listening I wish I could just let my brain scream to death but like people need me to keep it together so I can actually help but I'm at a loss as to how to help

I'll do it gxddammit I'll fucking get it done I'll crochet for this and it will make a difference and I don't have to suspend happiness until this is over I have to maintain some of that light of happiness within. It's not all on me we are working together

Hey 🩷 So I wanted to let people know that I am safe now. I'm back on my most necessary meds, I've applied for SNAP and general assistance, and I'm feeling stronger after having some more success promoting campaigns.

We are living during multiple holocausts. I take comfort in doing the work. We're making a difference in people's lives.

Thank you for helping me keep my head up. Let's keep going.

[clitorphosis]

SEEING YOU HERE AND NOW

title is from ‘Seeing you here and now ’ by Rosegarden Funeral Party Jill Valentine x reader |AO3 18+ MDNI. smut, lesbian sex, female reader, Jill is mean, degradation kink, humiliation kink, boot humping, oral sex, spit, dirty talk, obsessive behavior(from reader), boot licking, light masochism, mouth fingering, face slapping.

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹˚ ₊‧────

Living with someone has always sucked for you, but there are no other options at such rent prices on the market and you could end up with a much worse roommate. Your younger sister is… cute and lovable. Like really lovable. She always had time to take care of herself, go to the gym, using various cosmetic products and procedures and she always smelled like something nauseously sweet. She is always in relationships, people are easily attracted to her and you were never sure if she was acting dumb, not noticing anything or just playing along with flirtations. Cute, attractive, lovable and charismatic - a bingo. You have always considered yourself as an ordinary one, really different from your little sister. You do not enjoy spending too much time on excessive procedures (never understood the appeal of it), quickly preparing yourself in the morning without thousands of cosmetics products applied on your skin. You work part-time in some small store, which is exhausting. Thank God, the store is not so far away from the apartment. Clients were often… weird, making uncomfortable comments or just telling you should find a boyfriend and not wasting your time on useless job. Sounds good in theory, but in reality, imagining a touch from a man makes you want to kill yourself. At the end of the day, you are into girls clearly, which was always a headache for you. To find a girl who isn’t playing with your feelings or just trying something ‘new’ is hard. Or you are just unlucky and you attract those kinds of people.

So you have endured for a long time, ignoring any weirdos bothering you during your shift, until you caught yourself on swings in your behavior after a pretty woman visited the store. She was nice and respectful, but not really talkative so you had your time observing her while she was distracted by other products. Short-haired brunette with a sexy bump on her nose (clearly will feel nice against your pussy) and her slightly buffed arms, which are emphasized nicely by a blue top, make you already salivating at the idea of being manhandled by her. So there is no wonder, after her many visits, something obsessive began stirring in your chest cause of the woman in blue. You are curious, of course, so you found her socials; which wasn’t particularly hard to find, and since then your phone has become an extension of your hand. You got to know her name, Jill Valentine. Before work, - you check her social media, during the break - you check it, again before bed - still checking it and trying to dig for more information. And she haunts you, every night thinking about her, wondering if you are going insane and you know it is wrong, you shouldn’t stalk a stranger, and you shouldn’t touch yourself while your mind is filled with images of Jill. But you are already deep in this and even worse, the realization hit harder when you noticed and recognized Jill as your sister’s friend.

That was unexpected, but you would be lying if it didn’t make you hopeful, after all, you could get to know her better and stop being a little obsessive stalker over a stranger. You tried to talk with her or make a small chat, but she didn’t seem to recognize you nor did she seem interested. Instead, your sister was the center of Jill’s attention, hugging her by the waist and listening to her complaints. Your sibling has always enjoyed inviting her friends over, so some of them would sleep over your shared place and Jill wasn’t an exception in this case too. Which was dreadful, and even worse, it was arousing too. The lack of attention while she is here started to make you envious of your sister, but hope was burning stronger. After all, you are related so with some makeup and other adjustments, maybe she will go after you, right? Jill’s perfume is intoxicating, woody floral musk with a light hint of spiciness in it. It wasn’t hard to discover the name after many visits to perfumeries; Chanel Sycomore. It lingers in rooms after every her stay over, after which you also get lucky.

Sometimes you can find some of her stuff, like a keychain or handkerchief which she would forget while visiting the apartment. This is a nice bonus, a rare one though.

On one of these days, your sister was out while Jill wasn’t, explaining she was going to join her later. A trouble emerged quickly, you couldn’t find your dress which was probably snatched by your sibling. Some noises coming from the bathroom, Jill is clearly preparing to join your sister, so passing by the room, you notice there is no one, by eliminating any of your concerns, you decide just to get in and take back what you need.

It smells nauseously weird, your sister’s perfume and Jill’s mixing together making your head hurt a little bit. Finding the dress you needed wasn’t hard, so the trouble was dealt with quickly and you could leave if your attention did not turn to the laptop. The light is illuminating your face and inviting you to put your nose where it doesn’t belong. Being indifferent towards everything related to Jill isn’t your forte, you have been already checking her media quicker than it is possible, so no wonder your curious mind started looking through files and finding Jill’s old photos you have never seen on her Instagram.

“What..? You?” Jill’s voice echoes in the room, looking confused at your presence in it and catching you doing something you shouldn’t. There is a weird silence, her eyes observe you before shaking her head and scoffing. “No wonder that’s you, a creep” She is wearing the same outfit; a blue tank top but this time with a black cardigan and jeans with a belt, hugging her hips and toned thighs well, you would salivate at the sight if the situation was different. It seemed Jill was about to leave the place to join your sister until she saw you rummaging through things.

“You think I didn’t notice how you were eyeing me every time like a fucking puppy?” She hissed, looking at you with a frown and crossed arms. She looks much hotter when she gets so angry. Her hand cups your chin in a rough and unexpected motion “I do know you, you were stalking me like a creep for months. You are not so good at it, you know?” The only thing you are able to mutter is ‘Uh-huh?’ from an unexpected turn of events, embarrassment combines with arousal, and your pussy is already wet and throbbing for attention. “I-I am sorry…” “Just shut up” She rolls her eyes at your pitiful apology, clearly not caring or buying it at all. She pushed you away when her hand uncupped your face, so now you are on the floor.

“Come on, what did you expect?” Jill hissed with a frown on her face, looking down at you, observing how pathetic you looked while her arms were crossed across her chest. “You think I am into you?”

Your legs are spread, wearing only a big shirt and underwear beneath it. Like a dumb bitch, you are not changing your position, there is no point in trying to appear not desperate for her. Your clit throbs so needy and aching for attention from you or anything, the thin fabric of your underwear is useless right now cause the slick is sipping through and it is visible to her gaze, your desperate and pathetic need for a woman who seems to not like you as much as you do her. Her tone makes you bite your lower lip, before shifting closer to her leg, her leather boot is in between your thighs. Jill can almost see tail and puppy ears on you, it would suit you well.

“Please? I don’t care, I want you” You say breathlessly, you press against her jeans more and she raises her eyebrows for a moment, clearly enjoying the sight under her, but also not expecting such behavior. The tip of her shoe raises, pressing against your pussy. “What a desperate slut…” She sighs, looking like she is already tired of your bullshit. The corner of her mouth tugged up at the sight of your hips flinching when the cold leather connected with your hot arousal, provoking wet sounds. Jill tilts her head, her boot. “Ride it and beg, maybe I’ll consider it.”

She doesn't need to tell you twice.

Yes, you ARE desperate and needy for her, but you are not dumb and listen well to orders! Jill watches your body, how your face changes expressions and there is something hot in your behavior; humping her boot and whining like a little desperate puppy for little attention that may come from this. It is cute and pathetic at the same time, her hand cups roughly your chin to tilt your face and get easier access to it to enjoy the show.

“Please, p-please.” Your clit is rubbing against the leather fabric of her boot, leaving traces of slickness as your hips keep rocking back and forth, making more moans. “Oh shit, can I taste you? P-please?”

“Open it.” Jill orders dryly, her thumb traces down your lower lip. She parted hers, letting a string of spit fall on your face, missing your mouth. Not the plan she had, but still she is satisfied with the view even more now, watching the drop of saliva rolling down to your chin. Still, her two digits collect the spit, before shoving them down into your mouth. Your hips jerk from unexpected intrusion, almost coming cause of clit hitting suddenly the rough spot.

“Yeah, like that, be a good fucking slut for me.” she whispered, her blue eyes set on your messy face, as her digits are moving against the wet and warm muscle, pressing against it before sliding deeper to explore your mouth. “Taste good, right? You asked for this, after all”

Your attention shifts as Jill makes you choke on her fingers by not removing them, before accommodating to the feeling of her fingers. Your mouth is wrapped around them, knuckles pressing against your lips and you started sucking them while your pussy is still humping her boot, increasing wet and squelching sounds in the room. It is intense, your hips start rolling harder and faster making you look drunk on pleasure, forgetting to swallow, and it feels a little bit hard while you are focused on sucking two digits and on riding her boot. Drool starts dripping down from the corner of your mouth to the chin, slowly moving lower to your chest.

If someone else would enter and witnessed what is going on, one would think they are recreating a scene from a weird porn movie.

Your hips keep jerking back and forth, sliding across the leather and pressing your clit harder against it, feeling your body start tensing up in every fiber of your muscle. Dirty sounds amplify and it only makes you eager for an incoming orgasm. After two or three jerking of your hips, your thighs tense tightly while your back arches and you moan like a cat in heat. Your walls clench around nothing, slick gushing down on the leather of the boot.

“Fuck, that was quick.” Jill exclaimed with raised eyebrows, clearly not expecting the show to finish so quickly. Her fingers left your mouth, making a loud ‘pop’ sound and she wiped away the drool from them on your cheek. Your body shifts so her boot is not in between your legs, sitting on the floor and your gaze darts down to the leather fabric which is covered with your slick, glistening, and inviting to you, this won’t go unnoticed by Jill and she nods, pointing with her head to the boot. “Come on, would be a shame to not clean your mess.” she coos, the corner of her mouth tugs up, and you know, for you, she doesn’t need to tell you twice. Your tongue presses on the wet leather material, tasting yourself on it and moving around, licking away the remains of your wet arousal, until her fingers grab your hair and tug it up to meet your gaze. She wants to have her own fun too, cause it would be really not fair to let you come, although she doesn’t really want to feed your desperate self with her attention. While keeping eye contact, her other hand creeps to unbutton quickly the belt and zipper of her jeans, until she notices a sparkle in your eyes, so why not indulge you? She lets you pull them down to her ankles. You can feel your own hands shaking like crazy, heart is beating fast and you can’t believe this isn’t a dream when you pull down her underwear too.

She is sitting on the edge of the bed, so her both thighs are on your shoulders now, while you are on your knees, feeling like a hungry animal and you are more desperate than ever. Her pussy is on display, pubic mound has some dark hair, trimmed in a v-shaped style, and her folds are glistening with wetness, which was unexpected but clearly a good sign. You decided to take your sweet time. Your tongue slowly glides across her drenching slit combining with some light kisses, tasting her arousal which made you a little bit happier, after all your pathetic appearance turned her on. “Are you going to do a good job or what?” Jill grunted, her hand tugging on your hair and she pulls you away from her cunt, making you whine in disapproval. Seems she didn’t approve of your choice of action. “Please, please, please!” you beg, looking at her, your face fills with worry at the idea of being denied from eating her out. “I am going to be good, I want to taste you more, I want you to—“ You didn’t get to finish your sentence. Her hand connected with your cheek, making a loud sound of flesh getting hit and you flinched from the burning pain rushing through, which makes you let another whimper and you felt your pussy getting wet again. “Stop being a dumb slut!” She rolls her eyes, before giving another slap and pulling you back in between her thighs. Not wanting to risk anything, your tongue parts her folds now and presses flat, moaning at the taste of her slick returning on your buds and making you salivate more. Delving in, you start working to bring her over the edge; lapping on the wetness, flicking in rapid and light movements on her clit, not interrupting eye contact, observing how her face covers with a light blush. Her teeth play with her lower lip, letting moans as her hips buck against your lips more, clearly a sign she is enjoying your mouth on her. Jill’s head hung, and her gaze didn’t drift away at all, watching you lapping like a hungry animal. This is clearly an encouragement, so you don’t lose any time; tongue slides along the slick and fleshy pink folds, playing with her wetness and not being afraid to bump your nose against her clit, pressing and rubbing at every little movement of your face. Her pussy gets wetter, coating your taste buds more, giving more to lap on. You are getting sloppier with every minute, wanting to memorize the savor of her arousal like this depends on your life. The tip of the tongue traces up teasingly to reach the clit, now starting to play with it; flicking and making circles in quick motions. Her hole clenched around nothing for a brief moment as you kept playing with her sensitive bud until you felt a light pull in your hair, your head shifted slightly lower, not wanting to forget about her hole too. You slide your tongue into it, moving in and out quickly, fucking Jill’s pussy, enjoying the sound of wet noises filling the space around you both. The slick has already mixed with your drool and it drips down to your chin, making eyes roll back into your head when inner walls clenched down and her moans only invited you to be eager. You flatten down your tongue again, lapping on the dripping cunt faster and harder now. Sliding up and down across her wet folds, suckling on the clit and flicking on it. She tugs your hair more and you can feel her thighs tensing at your head’s sides, hugging tightly. The center of your entire attention is being surrounded by her heat, as she starts rocking down slowly onto your mouth.

Orgasm started to approach quicker than she expected, leading to her hand in your hair tightening its grip, now guiding your face roughly and taking the upper hand. Her hips started to grind against your face more, riding your face in quick motions, chasing her climax, and her dripping cunt smears more with wet arousal on your skin as you try to keep up with the intensity of the moment. Jill doesn’t hold back moans, the grip feels stronger in your hair, tugging roughly which provokes a painful sensation, but it quickly gets overwhelmed by the urge to please Jill.

You are so deeply involved in this, not noticing how moans escape from you and send a rush of vibration through her body, which only strengthens her pleasure. Jill climaxes hard; her pussy clenched around nothing for the last time before she goes still, her back arches and she bites down on her lip. Her thighs squeeze you, her skin is so hot and your taste buds fill with her leaking mess which drips more and you lap on it like your life depends on it, as Jill reaches her orgasm.

The space around you is empty and silent from other sounds other than your heavy breathing and the smell of sex and sweat. Her hips pull away from you, leaving you exposed to the chilly air of the room. Your mind is still processing what happened, trying to imprint the taste and sensations into your memory. “Useful at last.” she mumbles under her breath, not looking at you anymore as she adjusts her pants and belt. You didn’t notice how quickly she dealt with it and her fingers grip your chin, tilting you up to look into her face again. “Smile, dummy!” Jill says with a smirk on her swollen lips from biting she did earlier, the camera of her phone is directed towards your face. You didn’t react quickly, hearing a loud ‘click’, flash hitting your face and blinding you for a brief moment. Jill pulls away, looking at the photo with a grin. A mess; you are looking up into the camera, squinting your eyes, hair is disheveled, strands in front of your eyes while the lower part of your face is mixed with her slick and drool, glistening and dripping down. There is even a lightly visible red mark on your cheek, which Jill hit. She doesn’t show you the picture, her fingers quickly tap on the screen for a brief moment before turning to leave the room and putting away her phone. “Don’t forget to clean the mess.” Jill says, running her fingers through her brown hair before leaving you alone in the room, processing what happened and with the taste of her lingering on your tongue. You don't know what to say back, nor did you have time to answer.

You wish it was possible to relive this again and again.

[sunshinechay]

15 Day BL GL Challenge! Part 3!

Day 38: Let’s go lesbians! What’s your favourite GL?

So this is another time where I have to awkwardly admit something. I haven’t really watch all that much GL shows. For a lot of reasons. It is something I’m hoping to change in 2025 as I know of at least 2 gls I want to watch and are finishing either now or soon so I will be binging them soon.

However I do have an answer to this and it is what can be considered the OG big studio GL

Gap The Series

Sam is the definition of a useless lesbian and I love her so much. Mon also loves her and wants to be with her. I loved watching them fall in love and finally be able to be happy at the end. I loved all of the side characters (#justiceforteeyuki), even Evil Granny.

While the show may not be the best in the world, it holds a special place in my heart and I will love it forever. It falls right into some of my favourite tropes. The angst, the pinning, the love is requited they’re just idiots!

I also it’s cultural impact cannot be overstated. It was the first “big studio” GL (everyone say thank you Saint) and it proved that GLs can marketable (I mean we as the audience already knew that but the studios still needed convincing) and it did it’s job very well. I cannot wait to catch up on more GL’s this year. I am also impatiently waiting for the end of the year/beginning of next year for Cranium.

[penny-the-pissed-poltergeist]

RWBY volume 2 finale rewatch thoughts, Critical AKA RWDE content ahead.

.Jaune has good taste in very dumb dubstep, I'll give him that

.NPR: RWBY are good at their jobs, what's the worst that coul-"Air raid sirens" OH GOD DAMNIT

.Ren being concerned about his team abandoning a village is foreshadowing for his and Nora's backstories I didn't expect to find here

.Ruby is "useless without her weapon" but she uses kicks rather effectively, also nice Haloid/Matrix reference

.Weiss makes a sword out of Dust before she even gets the knight summon, tell me why they needed to throw those bootleg shin-megami-tensei demons on her moveset at all?

.Jaune wins by the swordplay equivalent to spamming the A button

.Oh god the Junior detectives bit. You are in the middle of a war zone this isn't funny and kills the tone. At least we aren't at the point where Sun is nothing but unfunny jokes but this is the start of that.

.Ruby Saluting the Atlus military and then said Military being just as useful against Grimm feel so antithetical to what a lot of An//ti-Rwdes keep spewing

.Cinder why are in your Villain dress? Also Emerald ass shot no one needed.

.Why does Emerald just a have a better version of Ren's weapon?

.UGHHH team CFVY are overrated as fuck, they basically steal the finale from the characters we actually give a shit about, their theme song while not being bad is just a audio embodyment of trying to hard, and they are built up like such a big deal only to job to the villains, have Velvet get her one cool scene later, and then never be relevant again for like 7+ years outside of books I've heard nothing but bad things about.

.The aura expansion/explosion thing Fox does is cool though, at least. Wait Ren also did a move like that once, why doesn't anyone ever use that move again?

.That is giant ass Beowolf holy shit. also you can really tell a 2010's gamer bro wrote that clothing store line.

."You spent all semester building that up" Coco people are in danger, let her fight you fashion fascist...

.Yeah if you didn't already know, Coco is based on the IRL fashion designer Coco Channel who turned out to be a Nazi, like Nazi party Nazi not neo nazi shit, this was that long ago. I want to give them the benefit of the doubt but this was not common info at the time but you could find it and RT was known to be very edgy and outright offensive (just look up some shit they were saying on internet box) and the leader of a team made up mostly of minorities being lead by a Nazi sounds like a joke they might make, and Coco has some WWII influences in her design, and her being confirmed as lesbian later sounds like it could be a play on the "nazis are secretly gay" thing and... Just please tell me this was unintentional, I don't want to think about this anymore.

.Coco also destroys any hope the Grimm being a threat have, why do they become like.. rubble?

.You can really tell the animation was either running out of budget or was rushed or both in this episode

."Yay we all did it, even though team CVFY did 90% of the work"

.How is there still 7 minutes of episode left?

.Blake says multiple people are behind bars so I am going to believe most of those WF members didn't die, Banesaw lives godamnit

.Zwei mimicking Yang is really cute

."We have no idea what happening, let's go take a nap"

.They try to paint the council as unreasonable for putting Ironwood the charge but he just helped the Kingdom defend itself and we all know how much negativity sports can cause, IRL sports riots are a thing.

.Council are not in the wrong at all for questioning Ozpin, bro is letting the leader of another kingdom in on the truth but not his own?

.Those cells look really cramped, that's a little messed up

.Roman's dialog is fucking gold, I don't much else to say about it

.How is today a success Cinder? Your plan went off early and was stopped

.ADAM... yeah that's it

.Ah the Raven scene, the one that retconed into a fucking dream because no one had any idea what Monty was trying to do with Raven and he died before anyone could learn, it's just fucking sad

[girldragongizzard]

Chapter 8: The disaster

The officer who’s been talking turns on a flashlight and shines it through the window of the door into the rest of the cafe and swings it around, squinting. I look away before the light passes over me. There isn’t much point to what he’s doing, because the shop lights are on, but he’s clearly doing it to be an asshole.

Then he states, “We’d like to interview the others in your establishment.”

“I’ll ask them if they’ve seen him,” Kimberly says. Then she turns to the rest of us and shouts, “Have any of you seen [deadname] or know where he is?”

We all shake our heads. 

I don’t look back to acknowledge while I do this, just in case my retinas are reflective. I am in my human disguise, but that only works if one of my tells doesn’t give it away.

“Nope!” Kimberly reports back to the police officer.

“We’d like to search the premises.”

“You’ll have to come back with a warrant to do that.”

“We can do that,” the officer says with a bit more volume and irritation. “What are you all doing in there?”

“After hours staff meeting, sir,” Kimberly reports.

Nathan is doing a great job of looking official and imposing, without looking exactly threatening, while standing next to Kimberly. He’d normally be the one to talk to the police like this, and he’s usually very good at it. But Kimberly beat him to the punch.

The officer scowls and says something to his partner, then asks, “What about?”

“The dragon,” Kimberly says, looking a bit more serious and earnest. “We need to figure out what to do about her. She’s turning out to be a real disaster.”

That does not go over my head, and I cannot believe she just said that with an even tone of voice.

Miriam smirks and stifles a snicker.

Jill shushes her.

And it’s at that the officer relaxes.

“That’s understandable,” he says a bit less audibly. Then louder again, “You let us know if you see him again. You call it in, you hear? We’ll take care of him. Have a good night, and don’t stay here too late.”

“You got it! Yes, sir!”

As the police go about leaving, Kimberly and Nathan make their way back to our circle.

And Ptarmigan puts her sketchbook away and says, “I can do that all night, every night.”

“Do what?” Kimberly asks.

“Subtly keep the authorities from really bothering you.”

“Why were they here in the first place, then?”

“Extreme circumstances, and I slipped up,” Ptarmigan replies. “Fixed it, though. This probably works out better, anyway.”

“How so?”

“They came, they saw, and they feel like they did their job,” the Artist of Nightmares explains.

Cerce leans forward, “So, now Meg is wanted on suspicion for causing a car wreck?”

“Anurak says she didn’t even come near it,” Caleb speaks up, looking at his phone.

“I didn’t,” I type. “That was Anurak. I was in the sky, though. Circling. Everyone saw me. Interested.” It’s so much easier for me to report facts now, but I think I’m coming back to myself from being stunned by the onslaught of “observations” from my friends.

It’s weird. The shock of adrenaline from the police makes it easier for me to think. It’s washed my other emotions free of my mind.

Rhoda really did invite me to spend the night with her, if I get really serious about something.

She said that if this was just a story, then what she’d been doing was something she never wanted to do. The role she was playing. And it doesn’t occur to me right away what role that was. So I consider her next statement that I remember, which was that if it all wasn’t just a story, she wasn’t doing everything for just me.

I thought we were doing everything for each other. Well. OK, for all the dragons in the city, originally, which is basically for me, yes. But once we’d identified just who and what Säure is, then it became clear the scope of things.

Except, it kind of starts to hit me. Probably because of the whole useless lesbian disaster thing.

What was Rhoda doing just before she left? She was telling me who and what I was.

That’s all she did in this meeting. And I wasn’t really ready to hear it. Which is pretty typical of the hero of a sto – Ah.

I start to sink in my chair, I feel so fucking embarrassed.

I think I can puzzle this out so many different ways in the framework I’ve made for myself.

Like, if I’m a story and a myth, like I’ve come to believe thanks to Wentin, then maybe I can’t be the hero. The hero would be someone else.

And I think I can make that fit a lot of the point that Rhoda might have been trying to make, but not all of it. Except she explicitly said, she doesn’t see me as a story or a myth. And the others agree.

Maybe I’m the story of a dragon who’s become a person. A story who’s become a person. Like Kim, Cerce, and Kimberly were saying. But then, that means I’m just a person now. Like I’d been striving to believe and fight for a few weeks ago.

But, if that’s the case, then how can I break physics with the power of narrative like I’ve done?

Do I have to choose? One thing or the other? The solidarity and comfort of being a person, or the power of being a myth?

I think I know which one I’d rather have, honestly, but the consequences scare me shitless.

As everyone is settling back down while talking about the encounter with the cops, and my brooding thoughts are dragging me further into my seat, Wentin makes a spooky whistling noise behind me and then speaks up.

“I am also done here,” it declares. “Meghan, I have more training for you. When you are ready for it, find me in the places you fear the most.”

And then it’s gone before anybody looks.

And I have a full body flashback.

—

Something small and hard hits me in the back of my right shoulder as I’m crouched over the Tonka tractor in the school sandbox. It bounces off me, stinging, and I see the rock arc over my head and land in the dirt.

It’s noon, of course, being lunch, and there’s enough sun that my shadow is stark against the ground beside me.

When this happened, I had turned to face my assailants, four of the boys. And the big sandy blonde one had been yelling at me. And nothing after that went down the way I would have liked.

But this time, out of the corner of my eye I see my shadow transform and unfold as I crouch forward onto all four legs, stretching wings, tail and neck out, to work out the kinks, and screech.

And this time, when I turn, my vision widening as I do to encompass the entire schoolyard as it should, what I see are children desperately trying to turn and run fast enough to get away from me.

My prey drive kicks in and I chase them down, just as I did in my imagination a hundred times over that day.

The visit to the nurse’s office will be different this time.

It won’t be my blood.

—

I may have snarled, but I’m surrounded by friends in my favorite coffee shop.

“Hey, Meghan,” Bri asks, “Are you OK?”

Chairs are knocked over and I’m no longer disguised. I’m fully me.

No one’s hurt, but I probably should have gone to counseling today.

I look around and find my tablet on the floor below my chest, so I draw it out and type, “Startled. Wentin did something. I think.”

I think.

“Yeah, it does that to me too,” Nathan says.

“I go,” I say. “Need alone.” Then I pick up my tablet and start putting it into my purse.

But Kimberly comes forward and says, “Hey, it’s OK. You just had a fight today with the biggest dragon anyone’s seen. We’re all jumpy. Have a sit down and I’ll make you some tea. I think we’ve got more planning to do after you’ve calmed down. Like about how you’re gonna go up and see Rhoda.”

“No,” I say.

I mean, she’s right. That’s what I need to do. But I’m not ready to do it. And to get myself ready, safely, I think I need my rooftop, as dangerous as that might be.

It’s way past sunset.

But I’ll be awake, pacing. I’ll be ready if Säure tries anything.

“No,” I repeat and finish what I’m doing. “Me. Go. Now.”

Cerce leans over to look Kimberly in the face and says, “Let her go. I think she knows what she needs. We’ve got this.” Then to me, “Meghan, we’ve got this. We’ll figure this all out. We’ve got all the knowledge and the tools. You take all the time you need.”

“It’s true,” Ptarmigan says, and Chapman looks at her.

“Hold up,” Chapman says, and rushes over to my side as I’m headed for the door. Sie looks me in the eye. I don’t even need to turn my head. And sie says, “I’m gonna come up there. Just for a few minutes, OK? The roof, right? I want to make sure you’re safe. Then I’ll leave you alone.” Then she turns to Bri and Miriam, “Can I use the chalk you use for your menu boards?”

Miriam gestures to the front, “There’s a tub of it under the counter. Use as much as you need. We’ll get more before we need to change the menu.”

“Thank you.”

—

It’s interesting to watch as Chapman wordlessly scrawls out the pattern of an esoteric and intricate circuit around me.

In the dark, the chalk glows.

But, I’m already left to my thoughts, and the company isn’t at all distracting.

I have so much to consider. So much to review and re-examine.

If my childhood is really where I began to learn to be a person, then not only is it part of my story, so is the rest of my adolescence and adulthood.

I was never who I was back then, but I was there. It was still me.

I know of trans people who were more dissociated than I was. Who, in their transition, the shell of the person they’d been pretending to be either shattered and took huge swaths of memories with it, or turned out to be a whole other person sharing their body with them. Maybe they’d have DID for a month or so until they worked it out. I definitely know some of them did that, worked it out, made peace with their old selves and reintegrated. And, of course, there are others who didn’t, who are still two or more people sharing a body.

I idly wonder if there are any people with DID who aren’t technically trans in some way.

I wonder if Astraia is trans, not for the first time. But that’s beside the point.

That didn’t happen to me.

The shell, the act, the way that I presented myself through my egg years was so thin. I did know what I was, at least in terms of being a dragon. And I guess I just leaned on the basic trauma responses of freeze and fawn, most of the time, to get through everything. There was definitely some fleeing. And a lot of daydreaming.

I was dissociated from my body and the world around me, not from myself.

Not that that makes me better than anyone else. It’s just what happened.

I’m pretty sure, at least. I can’t think of any time where it felt like I was a different person or someone had control of my body that wasn’t me.

But it still feels right to say that I was never the person a lot of other people wanted me to be, for the longest time. And I wasn’t fully present.

And in time, I ended up running away from everyone who hurt me just by looking at me, and I found myself in this building, with these neighbors and this coffee shop.

I haven’t been naming the shop because I can’t bear to give it a fake name like I’ve been slowly giving everything and everyone else. It’s too important to me. I want the truth of it to shine as brightly as possible.

The staff and the regulars there are people, apparently, who saw me before I finally got to see myself. And I’ve already said that in so many ways, but it’s amazing how incredible that is. It’s amazing how rare.

And then here was Rhoda, maybe seeing something even more in me than that.

She literally gave me my voice.

She didn’t make it.

It wasn’t an enchantment or spell or Art.

She just found it free in the app store and then paid a little bit for the pro version, and gave it to me.

Maybe she had to look hard for it, though. Because, out of curiosity, I’ve looked at a bunch of other AAC apps that are out there, and so many of them really suck. Or, at least, they’re not suited to me and my needs. Rhoda found just the right one.

She’s also invited me regularly back to her apartment for a nightly evening of tea and conversation, despite how I’d been attacked in my own by Joel that day she gave me my voice.

And that’s the same day I met Chapman, who’s doing what sie can to take care of me now.

Chapman, whom I still goofily enamored with, when I think about it. But sie has said we have all of the time in the world to figure that out, and now I know what sie means by that, and I don’t feel so rushed to get to know hir.

We can put a pause on our friendship, or partnership, or whatever we’ll be, until I’ve worked things out with Rhoda. Which is nice, because Rhoda is clearly uncomfortable around Chapman to the extreme.

They’ve worked together. They’ve cooperated. They haven’t really even fought. But Rhoda’s drawn her line, and Chapman’s on the other side of it.

And I thought I was, too. But apparently, I’m not? Maybe I’m right on the line.

I look off toward the East, where we all last saw Säure flying.

I’d really like to see him destroyed. And everyone like him. But, honestly, I always have. Mostly, I need him, specifically, out of my hair.

Which is an interesting need, because I don’t have hair.

Eh, it’s an idiom.

What is it that Rhoda sees in me?

I’m not such a disaster that I can’t see, at this point, that she wouldn’t have given me this chance if she didn’t feel like she needed me in her life for some reason.

Maybe I already give her something without even knowing it.

Maybe it’s time for me to go and find out what that is.

Chapman’s just finishing up hir work, and when sie’s done sie comes over to me and says, “If Säure comes anywhere near this building, this will give him a huge, distracting surprise. And it should give you time to escape. Just jump off the side and hide in the alley, or run. On the ground. You know the idea. And, when you’re ready to leave, if he hasn’t shown up yet, try not to smudge it. It’ll still be useful for the night. There’s a path to the hatch, and I’m going to take it now.”

I do wonder how other cities are handling their big fucking billionaires. If any of them are also dragons. Do they have their own Artists of… what? Doing whatever it is they do to protect them?

If the Artists are in control of everything, they’ve let the billionaires exist. And if other billionaire dragons are as big as Säure, it is kind of on them, then, isn’t it?

Säure’s the only one who’s intimated that’s how it works.

“Thanks,” I say.

“You have a good night, Meg. And good luck,” Chapman says. “I need to go keep an eye on Ptarmigan. And Cerce is right. We’ve got this. It’s a complicated knot, but I happen to make knots. And Ptarmigan unravels them, in her way.”

I bow my head.

“Your family cares about you,” Chapman says. “That’s what anybody really needs.”

Kind of a weird thing to hear from one of the Artists, actually. But probably true.

And then sie leaves.

My family.

Did I ever mention I have a younger sister? Four years younger than me. And she’s doing pretty well for anyone living in this world. Raising her own family down in Seattle.

My parents visit her pretty regularly.

I haven’t been, because I didn’t have the money or the means.

But it occurs to me now that I could just fly there now. And if I’m quiet and respectful about it, I could probably avoid fights with any of the dragons down there now.

Heck. They might even have a Seattle message board or Discord server that puts mine to shame. Just pop on there and let them know when and where I’ll be, visiting family who I’m not sure even really wants to see me, and I’d probably be OK.

But that’s not the family Chapman was talking about.

I stand up and fold myself into my magical girl faerie princess outfit and start walking toward the hatch while I adjust my purse to hang crossbody.

[sizzlingpatrolfox]

how is it possible to be this delusional about a ship? And that too so confidently? I really hope jks relationship gets revealed. This useless cult needs to die.

https://www.tumblr.com/bookscandlesnbts/731816881332387840/i-really-dont-get-it-he-just-arrived-yesterday?source=share

People keep forgetting about late August last year when Jimin went back to Korea after spending a couple of weeks in NYC. He arrived in Korea and a couple of hours later Jungkook was having dinner, alone. It was that time Jungkook went out to eat literally everyday, I think trying out different meat restaurants. Well, Jimin arrived back in Korea after weeks and they didn't even get dinner together lol.

Once or twice might be a coincidence, but if it keeps happening every single time... Wake tf up!!!

It's also so deranged to think two people who are, on the record, FRIENDS have to hide and can't hang out like normal friends do. Literally anyone who's ever been in a gay relationship can tell you that you go out and have a normal life like everyone else does. I get livid everytime I have to see cis straight women talking about being gay and making it sound like it's a Tarantino movie. Newsflash: gay people live normal lives!! The two females friends next to you at that restaurant last week? Probably lesbians! Probably bisexual! The guy bagging your groceries yesterday? Probably gay!! Was there a sign over their heads? It's not like Jimin and Jungkook or any gay person has to go and sit on "Reserved For Gay People" part of a public space.

I think very confidently that Jimin is gay, and that several people around him know that. Did that stop Jimin from having men hug him in his choreography or is it stopping him from getting on all fours and showing his butt to the camera? Is there a flashing sing on his head because of it? No. He just lives his life normally.

"They see each other at home" ALL THE TIME? Girl.... Nobody survives a relationship like that. Even couples have to go out and do regular stuff, regularly. That's what healthy is.

And that's allegedly people who've been married since 1950. Yeah, anyone can survive a relationship when you have jobs and children and you go out and live your life like any normal human being. Now I'd like to see them try to survive a relationship like the one they've made up in their heads about jikook. Scared, lonely, secluded, constantly lying to the point they can't even talk about food. Let's see how long they last.

Even more so, months passed and Jimin said Jungkook didn't cook that meal for him. If they spend SOOOO much time together at home, they would've had time to have a meal together.

Somehow they spent so much time together at home with nothing to do, but Jimin was just informing Jungkook about letter when he arrived at the studio. So much time together in private and somehow Jungkook was wondering who wrote the second verse in SMF2. He didn't know Jimin was doing fan calls. He didn't know when would Jimin be recording for music shows.

Forget about seeing each other. That's all stuff you can literally know by texting someone.

Anyways. This is so boring and I can't keep making lists of all the times they didn't see each other for weeks or probably months.

From here on to two years there'll be more Jungkook once again filmed with women and people will still be acting insane. Larries still act like nothing has changed between Louis and Harry and they've been hiding a gay relationship since 2011. That's exactly the kind of life taekookers and jikookers are headed to.

[cigarettesandinevitablebetrayal]

4, 5, and 17 for end of the year fic ask?

4) A fic you wrote this year that was most fun to write?

Probably Ricardo's chapter of Stand Tall to the Beast. I'd been wanting to rewrite the villain debut for Rashad for a while just because I see it happening so differently from how Ryden wrote it and being able to play around in the empty space of a villain named Heartbreak was a lot of fun.

I used to be really bad at writing action, so this chapter in particular was a fun challenge, especially given all Rashad's restrictions (can't rely on telepathy or their old style of fighting due to their HBI injuries). It took me ages, but I had fun the whole time.

5) Weirdest fic you wrote this year?

Probably Unorthodox Strategy for OC Kiss Week. I was running a bit low on ideas and was rifling through my Sidesteps and my friends' Sidesteps and trying to match up a pair that seemed like they'd fit when I decided on @nebuluxx's Damian. Damian and Miro are just a fun pairing given that they're a gay man and a butch lesbian, but they're both kind of dirty fighters so the sparring scene just came together nicely.

17) Two favourite lines/paragraphs/scenes from this year's fics?

The camera flashes have stopped. Figures. It's no longer looking good for him, and nobody actually likes having the footage of a Ranger's murder. He failed. Again. Failed Anathema, failed Herald, and now he'd be failing Rashad again. Ricardo drags in a ragged breath, electrical currents building up in his emitters, and he screams out into the dark as he lets the electricity loose. It explodes out around him in cascades of light. A useless rage against the inevitable. As the streaks of lightning subside, Heartbreak's helmet creeps back into his sight. He stares up at them, snarling through the pain, "You'd better do your worst, pendejo, because I'm never going to stop hunting you down." But Heartbreak doesn't move, like Ricardo expects. They stare down at him with their impassive mask, unreadable to him. "Did you hear me?" He yells again. Let them get angry. What's the worst they could do? He doesn't care anymore. "Finish the job!"

From Beast. I actually wasn't planning this interaction at all. This wasn't the intended ending of the chapter. Ricardo was originally going to just accept the defeat, but it wasn't sitting right with me. I'm not sure where this interaction came from. I just sort of let the character speak through the writing and came out with a significantly more impactful and in character response, in my opinion.

And two paragraphs from Riches and Wonders:

It’s funny how many little things Mortum hadn’t noticed he was missing until Mariana waltzed into his life, filling his lab with sound and light and color that had, unbeknownst to him, long since seeped out between the cracks in the concrete floors. The silence had made it easy to keep focused and now he finds it grates on his nerves, feeling like so much dead air without Mariana’s conversation or soft humming. The endless monochrome of greys feel drab without the pop of Mariana’s merlot dress or cobalt pantsuit. Could he ever really go back to just the smell of detergent after having the lingering scent of her perfume on his lab coat?

I really loved this paragraph (and the original, which was a touch longer before editing down) and how it highlights the differences Marianna has brought to Mortum's life. I like the symbolism used here a lot and the imagery it evokes.

Mariana snorts at that, a most undignified sound from her, but it makes him smile. It’s been a joy to watch her facade drop bit by bit as the time passes. He finds himself doing the same with his own mask, hanging it up beside hers like a coat by the door.

Another really nice indication of the affect Mortum and Marianna have on each other. It also ended up giving my the inspiration for Mateo and Mortum's ship name.

Find More Year End Fic Questions Here!

[hislittleraincloud]

I'm supremely tired today even though I passed out early-ish for me. (Maybe 3AM? That's early for me.) I did it without taking my full meds, so I woke up sick and had to take them anyway...and now I can't keep my eyes open. Idiopathic hypersomnia is a real fucking bitch (and I've had it most of my life; my mother also has it).

This sucks so gd much bc I have things to write. I want to write. But right now there's so much fatigue that I'm just useless atm. I couldn't even find the energy to put together my Wednesday sticker album with its stickers.

If you know me, I am a huge, huge cards and sticker collector...when my ex dumped all my stuff, I had a very extensive collection, sports and non-sports; I had a thing for Mets Mike Piazza and had a collection of his rare inserts (including a mistake print that was the only one in the world...and #001 — and a couple of #031 — inserts as well, and an early online friend was nice enough to gift me his Bowman Dodgers rookie card, which isn't worth shit now but the rare inserts and the mistake printing still sting). I mostly did non-sports, and had a bunch of TV show inserts and special sets. I didn't have any of my Paninis though, those are still back at the house in Massachusetts.

Speaking of non-sports cards, where in fuck are the Wednesday cards? Where the fuck is Cryptozoic, and why haven't they made a Wednesday set yet? I'm sure that that would make big bank...I could see the Wenclairs going insane over having a piece of the rainbow film that NC Wednesday/Ortega scraped off of her side. In fact I can think of a million different screen-used "pieces of" Season 1 that would make perfect insert cards. The rainbow film, pieces of Donovan's cork board (like the map of Jericho), a piece of one of Xavier's drawings or paintings, piece of one of the Nightshades's robes, piece of one of the Poe Cup cat suits, piece of one of Tyler's Lesbian Plaid™ shirts (😘), piece of Wednesday's novel, etc. (Ooo, piece of the Rave'N dresses, since there were multiples made.) So many opportunities for inserts there. Cryptozoic isn't terrible (they're the ones who put out the Sons of Anarchy set, through which I have Donovan's autograph). This Panini thing is pretty fucking terrible though, with the worst artwork. I love me some Panini, but I suppose they're only good for animated works rather than live action since any number of fan artists could've done a better job with the art in this. Why do companies settle for such mediocrity? This is terribly simplistic and unappealing art, looks like it was done in less than 5 minutes/with autotrace for the vectors (and the most pathetic part is that it was likely done by someone with an art degree)

Anyway. I'm so tired. And horned up because of my testosterone shot. God damn it.

ETA: Happy Birthday, Wednesday. And uh...tomorrow is technically ABW's birthday (just after midnight, LOL). She is 18 today/tonight! ...✨🫠✨

[stargazingellie]

lazarus is risen

chapter five: the theseus problem

(masterlist) (part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4)

hello beautiful people! here's the fifth installment :)

synopsis: After deciding to let Abby live, Ellie has returned to Jackson. But given everything she's lost, it no longer feels like home. She's sad, she's confused, and above all else, she is so, so very lonely. So when a group of strangers shows up and offers her a second chance, she might just take them up on that. Ellie must decide between staying in Jackson – and living with the ghosts of her past – or leaving in search of new meaning. Whatever she decides, her choice will have far-reaching consequences – not just for herself, or for Jackson, but for all of humanity.

Or,

Ellie saves the world, maybe?

(ellie williams x reader, post-tlou2, useless lesbians, slow burn, cross country road trip, lots of references to greek mythology, etc.)

Theseus: Legendary Greek hero known for his many deeds, including slaying the Minotaur in the Labyrinth of King Minos.

[Lucy]

As she packed their belongings next morning, Lucy noticed the large water jugs in the back of the truck bed were beginning to run low.

“Hey, is there a river or something around here? We could use a refill,” she said, motioning to the jugs.

Alvaro pulled a map out of the glove compartment and held it flat against the side of the truck. He pointed to a spot near some intersecting highways and said, “We’re right outside of Cheyenne. Looks like there’s a big lake a few miles north of the city. Some kind of nature reserve, maybe. Could be worth checking out.”

Within a few minutes, they were on their way. Lucy settled into the middle seat with her feet propped up on the armrest in front of her. To her right, Ellie let out a wide yawn.

“Hey, no yawning allowed,” Lucy teased. “How’d you sleep?”

“Alright,” Ellie replied, trying to stifle another yawn. “Just haven’t slept outside in a while.”

“Well, we’ll have to find you some coffee or something.”

Ellie scrunched her nose in disgust. “God, no. Anything but coffee.”

Lucy laughed. “Okay, not coffee. How do you feel about tea?”

“Better than burnt bean water.”

Lucy looked at her inquisitively. “You know tea is just leaf water, right?”

Ellie shrugged and smiled, looking out the window. “I said what I said.”

A short drive later, they got their first view of the lake in question. A large building with a glass roof stood on its shore with tall trees and long vines growing out of holes in its shattered roof. On the side of the road was a weathered sign whose letters were still barely visible:

Cheyenne Botanic Gardens Visitors Entrance

“A botanical garden! Alvaro, did you pick this just for me?” Dr. Reynolds teased. Alvaro stayed silent as he drove, but in the rear view mirror Lucy could see a small smile creep onto the officer’s otherwise stern face.

When they got out, Alvaro and Jacobs immediately retrieved the large jugs from the back of the truck. As they made their way to the edge of the lake, Lucy asked, “Can we help at all?”

Keeping his back to her as he dipped the first jug beneath the water, Jacobs said flatly, “No, we’ve got it under control. We’ll get going after an iodine treatment. Just sit tight.”

Lucy shot Ellie a knowing look and rolled her eyes. “That’ll take at least half an hour. Can we walk around at least?”

“Sure, just don’t wander too far. Stay within earshot,” Jacobs replied.

Dr. Reynolds pointed to the path skirting around the lake. “It looks like there’s a nature walk along the shore. There are signs posted about local flora and fauna.” He began down the path to the right without bothering to see if anyone was following. “You know, plains wildlife is incredibly fascinating due to its…” His words became unintelligible as he walked away, leaving the two girls standing alone together.

Lucy looked at Ellie, who seemed amused by the older man’s behavior.

“He really loves his job, doesn’t he?” Ellie asked.

Lucy watched her father as he became engrossed by the leaves on a nearby tree. “Yeah, he does.” She looked around, taking in their surroundings. “There’s a sign that said ‘Labyrinth’ that way,” she said, pointing down the path behind them. “That could be interesting, right?”

Ellie shrugged. “Yeah, I’m cool with whatever.”

Lucy gave the other girl’s arm a playful nudge. “Well don’t sound so excited.”

Ellie laughed. “Sorry, sorry.” She cleared her throat and took a deep breath. “I have literally never heard something more interesting in my entire life. Is that better?”

Lucy grinned. “Much. Let’s go.”

As they walked, they came upon the large building with the glass roof. Around the back, a large door stood ajar, revealing the overgrown foliage within the building. Lucy stopped and peered at the towering plants inside. 

Coming up behind her, Ellie motioned to a sign just inside the entrance pointing towards the gift shop. “Think there’s anything good in there?”

“If you’re in the market for a souvenir t-shirt, maybe,” Lucy replied.

“You wanna check it out?” Ellie asked.

Lucy suddenly felt her pulse spike and palms start to sweat. As much as she loved the idea of getting lost among the dense greenery, the enormous plants blocked most of the sunlight coming from above, making it especially dark in the shadows.

“Oh, uh, I don’t know, Jacobs said not to wander,” she said uneasily.

“Okay, no worries. We can keep walking,” Ellie replied nonchalantly as she turned back towards the path.

Lucy’s eye caught on the faint scars lining Ellie’s arms from past encounters. She looked at the worn backpack slung over the other girl’s shoulders, and at the canvas shoes which seemed on the verge of falling apart. Everything about Ellie indicated that she had lived a long life outside the protective walls of a QZ – exactly the opposite of Lucy. Lucy suddenly felt incredibly insecure, and – though she couldn’t quite explain why – felt like she needed to prove herself to Ellie. Impress her, even.

“No, wait,” Lucy blurted out. “We should look around. There could be some useful stuff in there, right?” she said, trying to keep her voice from shaking.

Ellie casually reached into her belt and pulled out a pistol. “Yeah, could be. You have a gun?”

Lucy reached in her bag to retrieve her weapon. “Oh, uh, yeah.” But I’ve never needed to use it, she thought to herself. 

Ellie stepped through the door and said, “Alright, c’mon.” Lucy took a deep breath, then followed Ellie inside.

From what they could see, the main room was empty. The only noise was the sound of a light breeze rustling the impressively large leaves of the overgrown plants. As they quietly made their way through the aisles of the exhibit, Lucy became transfixed by the girl in front of her. Her strong arms, the tattoo on her wrist. The way the green light of the foliage brought out the green of her eyes. Lucy shook her head to snap herself out of her thoughts.

They came to the wide entrance of an adjacent room whose contents were completely obscured by the thick offshoots of a low hanging tree. Ellie stood to the side and pulled back a branch to make a small hole. “Ladies first,” she said with a playful smile.

Lucy met her gaze and felt a sudden warmth rush to her cheeks. She returned a shy smile and ducked under the branch. When she stood up, she noticed a large fern to her left. She pointed to the plant as she turned around and whispered, “Look, you’re matching!”

Ellie made her way under the branch and rolled her eyes. “Ha-ha, very funny,” she whispered back, flashing a grin.

Suddenly, Ellie’s grin disappeared as her eyes caught on something over Lucy’s shoulder. Lucy spun back around and saw exactly what Ellie was looking at. Lucy almost let out a small cry, but before it could escape her Ellie’s strong hand clamped over her mouth. Ellie kept a strong grip on her as they watched a clicker pass just a few feet in front of them.

Lucy’s heart was beating so loud she was surprised the infected didn’t attack them right then and there. Lucy felt Ellie’s chest pressed against her back, and noticed the other girl’s heart beating just as hard. They stood there, frozen, until the clicker was far enough away and Ellie could loosen her grip.  Ellie quietly replaced her gun with a knife, and gave a stay here signal as she moved away from their hiding spot. Lucy watched Ellie silently follow the clicker,  put it in a chokehold, and sink her knife hilt-deep into its neck. She slowly lowered it to the ground as it gave a few final twitches. Once it lay still, Ellie gave the O.K.  for Lucy to follow.

Lucy made her way over to where Ellie stood, heart still pounding. “Thanks,” she whispered breathlessly.

“Don’t mention it. Look,” Ellie whispered as she pointed across the room to a doorway labeled Gift Shop. “Almost there.”

“Almost there,” Lucy repeated, more to herself than to Ellie.

After carefully making their way through the overgrown aisles, Ellie slowly pried one of the Gift Shop doors open. Lucy flinched as the door gave a loud creeeeak, but nothing stirred. On the opposite wall, glass doors leading back outside allowed sunlight to spill in and cast a warm glow around the room. Ellie investigated the wall to their right as Lucy wandered to the left, letting her fingers trail over the racks of clothing. She made her way to a display near the register, which held packs of wildflower seeds organized by climate region. She found the packets labeled Southeastern United States and tucked them in her bag.

A voice came from right behind her and made her jump. “Find anything good?” it asked. Lucy spun around to find a pair of green eyes looking down at her.

She laughed at her own jumpiness and replied, “Yeah, I found some wildflower seeds. What about you?”

Ellie held up a t-shirt that read:

I SURVIVED  THE CHEYENNE LABYRINTH

“I win,” she said with a smirk.

“Woah, okay. Didn’t realize it was a competition.” Lucy took the shirt and held it up to inspect it. “Guess we really have to see this labyrinth now, huh?”

“You know, I don’t know what I was expecting, but it definitely wasn’t this.” Lucy frowned.“I mean, they could at least have a Minotaur statue or something.”

She and Ellie walked along the edge of a circular clearing. In front of them lay concentric rings sandwiched inside of each other, forming multiple circular paths. Knee-high strips of grass formed buffers between the cracked cement walkways.

“A Mino-what?” Ellie asked.

“You know, the half-man, half-bull who lived in an underground maze. The Athenians had to sacrifice kids to it until some guy named Theseus killed it.”

Ellie winced. “Oh, yikes.”

“Yeah. Its mom fell in love with a bull and gave birth to a monster. There was nothing else to feed it so it just ate people.” Lucy shrugged. “The Greeks were unhinged like that.”

“Yeah, that’s one way to put it.” Ellie thought for a second, then said, “You think it knew what it was doing?”

Lucy furrowed her brow. “What do you mean?”

“Well, if it’s half-human, do you think it felt bad about hurting other humans? Like was it aware of what it was doing?”

Lucy pondered her question. “I guess I’ve never really thought about it like that. I hope not. I mean, he didn’t choose to be born like that, right? It just happened to him. It’d be kind of horrible if he was just stuck watching himself do those things without being able to control it.” She shook her head. “I can not believe you’re making me sympathize with a cow right now.”

Ellie held up a finger. “Half-cow,” she corrected.

Lucy rolled her eyes and gave Ellie a playful smack on the arm. “You know what I mean.”

As they meandered their way through the rings, Lucy stopped abruptly at one of the cracks in the pavement. Weather and time had worn away at its edges and loose pieces of cement lay scattered around the seam. She crouched down to inspect a golf-ball sized chunk in her palm.

“That’s some interesting, uh… cement,” Ellie said.

Lucy remained silent for a moment as she gazed at the object in her hand. Memories of her brother floated around her head. “Do you think people are like that?” she asked, almost inaudibly.

“Like… what?”

She tore her gaze away from her hand and peered up at Ellie. “When people get infected, you think they’re still in there?”

Ellie’s face fell as she understood what Lucy was asking. “I don’t know. Maybe for a little bit, but I hope not.”

Lucy looked back at the object in her hand. “Yeah, me too.” She placed the piece of cement in her bag as she stood up. “I hope I never have to find out.”

Ellie pursed her lips and nodded in agreement. As they walked back towards the truck, Lucy felt Ellie nudge her shoulder.

“Sooo… what’s with the cement? You building a road or something? ‘Cause you’ll need more than just that piece, you know.”

Lucy smiled to herself. “No, it’s for, uh… it’s for a collection.”

“A… cement collection?”

Lucy laughed. “No, wise guy. A rock collection. I know it wasn’t really a rock, but it’s close enough.” She paused before continuing, “My brother… he used to collect them around the QZ and from little research trips our dad took us on. Said it was a reminder of everywhere he’d been. After he died I started doing it to feel closer to him and I just… never stopped, I guess. It sounds dumb when I say it out loud, though.”

Ellie shook her head. “No, it’s not dumb. It’s… sweet.” She smiled warmly. 

Lucy felt herself blush and quickly averted her gaze. “Thanks,” she smiled.

They rejoined the rest of the group just as the water jugs were being loaded back onto the truck. Dr. Reynolds smiled at them as they approached. 

“You missed out on some very cool trees. Did you see anything interesting?”

Lucy looked at Ellie, who raised her eyebrows as if to say, You wanna tell him? 

“Uh… no, pretty uneventful,” Lucy said. “Visited the Labyrinth over there. Pretty underwhelming.”

“Ah, bummer. Did they at least have a Minotaur statue?”

“No! Can you believe that?” Lucy laughed.

Alvaro locked the gate on the back of the truck. “Alright, we’re good to go.”

They all climbed back into the cab of the truck and took their usual seats. As they pulled out of the parking lot, Lucy resumed her usual position with her feet on the middle console. And, as usual, three people squished into the back seat meant her and Ellie’s bodies were forced to touch. 

Un-usual, however – and slightly unnerving though not entirely unpleasant – were the butterflies Lucy felt in her stomach because of it.

[xoxoladyaz]

AU-gust, Day 8: Robots and Androids

WARNING: THIS IS A CROSSOVER WITH FNAF. (Listen, I told you things were about to get weird so please fasten your seatbelts, it's gonna be a wild ride 🩷)

“This might be the stupidest job we’ve ever had.”

“Are you kidding?” Robin yelled from across their homey two-bedroom. “These outfits are so much better than Scoops!”

“First of all, that’s saying literally nothing, and second of all, you’re not the one wearing safety cone orange!” Stevie yelled back as she examined her reflection in the mirror. Her new work uniform consisted of a long-sleeved bright-orange shirt with the Fazbear Entertainment logo in bright blue on her front breast pocket, paired with fitted black trousers that had bright orange piping running up and down the edge.

(Whomever worked in the staff uniform design department of Fazbear Entertainment definitely had it out for her.)

“Oh shut up, that color looks great on you,” Robin retorted as she strolled into Stevie’s bedroom. She was dressed in the Roxanne Wolf version of her outfit – lilac and lime green which was so, so much cuter in Stevie’s opinion. “Besides, you have those lightning bolt earrings from our Bowie party that match perfectly.”

Stevie sighed and started flipping through her jewelry box. “Ugh, I guess. I still don’t know why we took this gig though.”

“You mean aside from the fact that Argyle got us these jobs in a literal day?”

“Uh, yeah, Robin! We’re working at the robot capital of the world and you hate robots.”

“Okay, first of all the Glamrocks aren’t robots, they’re animatronics,” Robin started numbering off on her fingers. “Secondly, Roxanne Wolf is a lesbian icon to whom I owe my allegiance and I see that eye-roll Stephanie Harrington, don’t give me that sass, and thirdly we’re working in the gift shop, we’ll, like, never see them in person.”

“Famous last words,” Stevie muttered, but Robin was already speeding into the hallway.

“Now stop stalling, dingus, it’s time to hit the Pizzaplex!”

/////

Stevie had to begrudgingly admit that working at Freddy Fazbear’s Mega Pizzaplex wasn’t the worst job in the entire world. She got to spend all day with Robin (and make faces with her behind the backs of the really crazy parents) while staying warm, dry and ice-cream free. Which, speaking of, they also got free food with every shift which meant lunch and/or dinner breaks with Argyle (who worked in Chica’s Pizzaria and loved it, the maniac) and that was awesome.

(It was really hard to keep track of everyone now that they’d all been relocated from Hawkins and spread across the state of California; if Stevie thought about it too much, she’d get emotional, so she tried not to think about it.

Or about the fact that Eddie hadn’t texted her in a few weeks.)

Stevie even got to pick-up a few overtime shifts in the daycare on her off days which, hey, the faster she makes money, the faster she can get to cosmetology school.

(Did she have problems with the fact she was sharing babysitting duties with a glorified robot? Not really.

Did she understand how the toddlers weren’t scared by Eclipse when he was in his Moon phase? No, not even a little bit, that fucker was creepy.)

That didn’t mean there weren’t drawbacks to her job, of course. She and Robin averaged about twenty upset and entitled parental encounters daily combined, not to mention all of the crying children who were either upset that they weren’t getting exactly what they wanted or were upset that they weren’t getting what they wanted fast enough. Their all-time high of screaming kids was 41 and they drank a fuck ton of wine that night.

But the biggest problem about working at Freddy Fazbear’s Mega Pizzaplex? Those goddamn animatronics. And not because Stevie was scared of them, oh no, no, it was because Robin was full of shit. Anytime one of the Glamrocks came within twenty feet of the gift shop she ducked for cover, and if it was Roxy? She was useless for a solid fifteen minutes afterwards every single time.

(“I think this officially qualifies you as a furry,” Stevie said after one particularly close encounter. Roxy had stopped to take pictures in front of the doorway and Robin had catapulted herself through the Montgomery Gator sweatshirt rack and crashed into Roxy’s plushie display and got absolutely buried.

“It really shouldn’t be that big of a surprise, Robs, this is how you always act when a pretty girl comes around - ”

“Stevie? Shut. Up.”)

It wouldn’t have been a problem if Robin and Stevie had remained posted at the gift shop, but no, the gods forever frowned upon Stephanie Harrington.

/////

“Harrington!” Her manager Roger barked as he power-walked past her, three weeks into her tenure at the Pizzaplex. “We’re running low on Freddy plushies out front, so I’m going to need you to go and get the next shipment from storage. Here,” he said, tossing her a new keycard that she (barely) managed to catch. “Second floor storage area behind Fazer Blast. There should be a dolly there for you to use. Thanks!” Roger hollered, and then he was off running after a mop-bot that was spreading paint around in the main atrium.

Stevie turned to look at Robin who was already shaking her head. “Nope, no way.”

“Aww c’mon Robin, please? I always go with you when we walk around the Pizzaplex.”

Robin rolled her eyes and was about to reply when the melodic voice of Roxanne Wolf echoed throughout the plaza. “Thank you, I am the best,” the Glamrock crooned, and Robin flushed bright red and threw herself into the gift shop.

Welp. Looks like Stevie was going to have to handle this solo.

/////

Question, why was Stevie handling this solo again? Because she’d passed about twenty janitorial bots on her way to the storage area, all of whom were just scooting around with nothing to do. 

Whatever.

There was a dolly back in the (dark and creepy) storage room, so she loaded up a brand new box of Freddy Fazbear plushies and made her way to the main elevator bank.

“Sorry, excuse me, pardon me,” she said on repeat as she walked past scores of rowdy children and their stressed parents. As she rounded the corner, she saw the elevator doors begin to close and she moved faster.

“Please hold!” She yelled, and the elevator doors stopped shutting. “Shit, thank you,” Stevie gasped as she rolled the cart in and wiped her eyes.

“No problem, superstar!”

Fuck.

Stevie whipped around to look at the other occupant of the elevator and – yep, it was the man (err, orange bear) himself, all 6’3” of animatronic rockstar Freddy Fazbear gazed down at her, his signature smile on his perfectly polished face.

Stevie barely noticed the elevator doors slide shut behind them, barely heard the tinny elevator music play as they started their descent.

“You’re - ”

“I’m Freddy Fazbear, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” the animatronic intoned.

“Hi, yeah. I’m - ”

“Stephanie Harrington,” he interrupted, his eyes scanning her form with a bluish light. “You work in the gift shop.”

“How did you - ”

“I have access to the Pizzaplex’s employee directory. For security concerns.”

“Oh. Cool.”

She stood and stared at the bear, who stood and stared back at her. And then wiggled his ears.

(It was kind of cute.)

“Well, I - ”

The elevator suddenly screeched to a halt and Stevie barely managed to stop herself from tumbling to the ground – mainly because a pair of oversized orange paws gently caught her.

“We’re sorry,” an automated voice spoke over the elevator intercom, “but it appears that our elevators are experiencing a technical difficulty. Please remain calm and our staff will be with you shortly.”

Stevie groaned, slumping back against those orange paws. “Oh, great.”

“Not to worry, superstar!” Freddy said, and Stevie barely suppressed her flinch at his booming voice. “Our staff is highly qualified and perfectly capable of fixing any and all technical issues that may take place at the Pizzaplex. We will be out of here in no time!”

(Stevie had seen how long it took the staffbots to fix the soda fountain when it exploded; she didn’t share Freddy’s faith in this at all.)

“Good, glad to hear it,” she replied drily. She stood up and waved Freddy’s hands away (or, err, paws. His paws. Paws that followed her to make sure she wouldn’t fall again which wasn’t sweet, for fuck’s sake!)

“Well, Stephanie, how about we play a game?” Freddy asked as she Stevie slumped against the far wall. (No way she was going to stand for this.)

“Sure, Freddy. What game do you wanna play?”

Freddy’s ears wiggled again as he hummed (or made a humming sound; he couldn’t actually hum, could he?) “How about we play the Question Game? I always like to learn more about my friends!”

Aww, he thought they were friends. (Or he was programmed to say that, or think they were friends? Just how intelligent were these things? She should text Dustin later on and ask what he knew about Fazbear Entertainment.)

Still, Freddy continued to smile as he waited for her reply and yeah, okay, that was cute. “Sure, Freddy,” Stevie sighed, but she made sure to smile back at him. “Let’s play the Question Game.”

/////

They were in the elevator for a total of forty-five minutes, which gave Freddy and Stevie plenty of time to play the Question Game. Stevie learned all about Freddy’s favorite things to do at the Pizzaplex (play music with his friends, try to beat his old high score in Fazer Blast, dance at DJ Music Man’s shows whenever he had the chance), his best friend (Bonnie, who had been banged up pretty badly and was getting fixed somewhere offsite), his other best friend (Chica, they liked to do Jazzercise together), and his favorite thing to do in his free time (which was read, apparently? She wasn’t sure how the animatronic bear got his hands on copies of “the classics” and honestly wouldn’t have pegged him as a Dostoevsky fan but hey, apparently even orange animatronic bears can have depth?)

In turn, Stevie told him about her favorite things to do at the Pizzaplex (visit Argyle at Chica’s Pizzaria, laugh at Robin when she hid from Roxy), her best friend (Robin, who worked with her in the gift shop), her other best friends (Argyle and Nancy and Eddie and Jonathan and Chrissy), her family (well, Dustin and the Hopper-Byers’ at least), and her favorite thing to do in her free time (watch movies with Robin, which then led into a long conversation about what movies she’d seen and would recommend because while Freddy knows about movies he hasn’t seen a whole lot of them).

He also asked her questions about the world outside the Pizzaplex: where she was born (Hawkins), why she moved from Hawkins (an earthquake, which was the official cover story), what her dream job was (being a hairdresser, at which point Freddy said she should talk to Roxy and start training at her salon which was, again, very cute), and all about the places she’d seen and where she wanted to go next.

(“Probably down to Malibu,” she’d said, lost in thought. “I’d like to see those beaches. What about you, is there somewhere you’d like to go?”

“I – well.” Freddy paused, and for the first time, he appeared troubled. “I cannot leave the Pizzaplex.”

“Oh,” Stevie murmured and wow, that really fucking sucked, didn’t it? Sure, she was talking to a robot bear who was literally built to be children’s entertainment but he wasn’t really feeling like just a robot bear anymore, especially the more they talked and played the Question Game. And this might have been one really, really long con or programming thing but – what if it wasn’t? What if he was fully intelligent and he was really stuck here?

Like El and the lab, she thought, and then she was barely able to stop herself from tearing up.

“But if I could go somewhere else,” Freddy continued, unaware of Stevie’s inner turmoil, “I would also probably choose to go to the beach. I would like to see the sun on the water,” he finished quietly.)

Stevie didn’t know what to say, but thankfully the elevator started up again, so she was spared any sort of deeper introspection.

“See?” Freddy said, no trace of sadness in his voice at all, like it had never been there. “Good as new.”

“Yeah, you were right about that,” Stevie said, pushing herself to her feet. It was a little tricky to do so while the elevator was moving, but Freddy held out his hand and she grabbed hold without a second thought. “Thanks, Freddy.”

“You’re welcome, superstar,” Freddy replied with an ear wiggle. “Can I assist you with transporting your cart to the gift shop?”

Stevie grinned. “You know what, Freddy? That would be great.”

/////

“EVIL,” Robin hissed from behind the sales counter, her white knuckles gripping onto the laminated wood for dear life. “You are evil.”

“Hmm, what was that?” Stevie asked as she watched Freddy unbox (and gently stack) the plushies on the main console table. “I can’t hear you, Robin.”

Robin hissed an unintelligible reply but Stevie ignored her, watching instead as Freddy stepped back and clapped his hands together. “Perfect!” He turned and alighted that bright electronic smile towards Stevie. “Thank you for letting me help, superstar.”

“No, thank you for helping, Freddy. Come back and visit any time, you hear?”

“Absolutely.”

Stevie waited for Freddy to leave, but he didn’t; he just stood there and stared at her, letting the seconds pass them by.

“Uh, Freddy, sir?” An acne-riddled teen with “Benny” on his nametag cleared his throat. “We need you in Superstar Row for some Meet and Greets.”

“Oh, yes,” Freddy replied, like he wasn’t thinking, like he’d forgotten.

(He was still looking at Stevie.)

“It was nice talking with you, Stephanie,” he finally said, and with one final wave he thundered out of the gift shop, Benny at his heels.

Stevie turned to look at Robin, who was looking at her with confusion. “Huh.”

“Huh,” Stevie repeated, and she could practically feel herself blush the longer that Robin looked at her. Robin who, of course, sensed a perfect opportunity for revenge.

Robin who suddenly had a shit-eating grin on her face. “You know, I think that officially qualifies you as a furry, dingus.”

“Oh, fuck off, Robin.”

[ao3feed-piltovers-finest]

You've got a Nine to Five, so I'll Take the Night Shift

by VirgoFrog

Vi just wants Powder to be happy. Even if that means barely speaking to her and just letting her drown herself in her drawings and her strange engineering projects. But there's no way in hell she will give her up. Even if that means taking the weirdest job at the weirdest pizzeria, surrounded by the weirdest people. But this place has secrets, and she suspects the people around her know more than what they're letting on. Especially a certain police officer. God, how did her life get this weird?

Words: 1299, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Arcane: League of Legends (Cartoon 2021), Five Nights at Freddy's (Movie 2023)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: F/F

Characters: Jinx (League of Legends), Vi (League of Legends), Caitlyn (League of Legends), Silco (Arcane: League of Legends)

Relationships: Caitlyn/Vi (League of Legends)

Additional Tags: Jinx goes by Powder, Good Sister Vi, Powder as abby, Vi as mike, Caitlyn as vanessa, Vi Needs a Hug (League of Legends), basically their whole family is dead, Just like in canon, five nights at freddy's au, Caitlyn Needs a Hug (League of Legends), I'm terrible at tagging, decent amount of death, A lot of child death, which is to be expected, powder is a little menace, but i love her, vi and caitlyn have some issues, but they'll work them out, Useless Lesbians

Read on A03. from AO3 works tagged ‘Caitlyn/Vi (League of Legends)’

[astra-galaxie]

Victoria Holt

Biographical information

Full Name: Victoria Holt

Alias(es): Nerium Nightshade

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Lesbian

Status: Deceased

Age: 60 (season 1)

Birth: 1953

Race: Human

Cause of Death: Electrocution

Nationality: Dutch

Origin: Holland, Netherlands

Residence:

India (formerly)

Holland, Netherlands (formerly)

Profession(s): Scientist

Affiliation(s):

Switch Laboratories

SOMBRA

Profile

Height: 5'4" Age: 60 (season 1) Weight: 137lbs Eyes: blue Blood: A+

Hailing from the Netherlands, Victoria Holt was the owner of Switch Laboratories. She had strawberry-blonde hair, pale skin, and blue eyes. She wore a simple red dress, an orange lab coat, and a DNA pattern scarf.

Synopsis

Victoria was the victim of A Shock to the Team.

She used to own Switch Laboratories, a lab that, on the surface, was working to cure diseases. But behind the scenes, they were creating custom poisons to kill people. Victoria and Gustave were the only ones aware of SL's true intentions; the rest of the employees thought they were doing good work.

But unknown to Gustave, Victoria worked for SOMBRA, who also funded her operations. SOMBRA was using Victoria's poisons to "weed out the weak" but killing their enemies. Because Victoria's poisons were so unique, it would appear like people died of natural causes, such as a heart attack or stroke. She also sold her poisons privately on the black market, and no one traced these murders back to Victoria.

But Nathan eventually discovered Victoria's devious plans. He learned the truth while autopsying one of the volunteer test subjects. After realizing that Project Elysium was killing people on purpose instead of saving them, he contacted his grandfather, the Director of U.N.I.T at the time. With the agency's help, they destroyed the lab and research, arresting many of the employees.

But Victoria fled with SOMBRA's help and vowed revenge on Nathan for his betrayal. She couldn't believe after everything she did for him; he would stab her in the back. She gave him his sight, helped with his education, gave him a job at her lab, and that was how he repaid her?!

She stayed a free woman for many years as she evaded U.N.I.T. Victoria tried to recreate her work, but without the data, she couldn't do it. And then she realized that Nathan would be the key to helping her. He helped U.N.I.T. confiscate her work and was sure he would have remembered the formulas and know how to recreate them.

So, Victoria contacted Gustave, who was now out of prison, and the two tracked Nathan down to Grimsborough. They also found other old employees of SL, but no one wanted anything to do with them. But the two were persistent and tried to restart their work in a secret lab hidden underneath an abandoned iPear store Gustave owned.

Victoria even went as far as to threaten Nathan's son Avi. The coroner agreed to go with her to the lab so that she wouldn't hurt the boy, but once there, he attacked Victoria, knocking her out. He tried to destroy the work inside but found no files, so he fled before she woke up.

But Nathan knocking Victoria out would make it easier for Gustave to murder her. Gustave was angry when he saw that Victoria had failed to get Nathan back. He knew he could get the coroner to cooperate with the right incentives, and if she were going to be useless, he wouldn't risk her ruining his chances at a better life.

Gustave strapped Victoria to a chair and hooked up jumper cables to it and the shop's electric panel. With a flick of a switch, he turned on the shop's sign and electrocuted Victoria in the process. He left her burnt corpse inside and began formulating a plan to escape Grimsborough, taking Nathan with him.

Story Information

First appeared: A Shock to the Team

Trivia

The name of the case she was a victim in, A Shock to the Team, is a reference to the pilot episode (A Shock to the System) from the cartoon Static Shock

The SOMBRA connection was a change I made after I edited my first story, The Case of The Criminal, in 2021

She sold her custom poisons on the black market under the disguise of Nerium Nightshade

She wore a mask when making sales; the most common ones looked like skulls

Disclaimer: Character design was created using Rinmarugames Mega Anime Avatar Creator! I have only made minor edits to the design! Background courtesy of CriminalArtist5

Links to my stories:

The Case of the Criminal (Ao3/Wattpad) Killer Bay (Ao3/Wattpad) Where in the World are the Killers? (Ao3/Wattpad)

[messypasts]

{ Ella Purnell, cisfemale, she/her } Is that LINNEA SHAW? I heard the TWENTY SEVEN year old belongs to the NIGHTSHADE as a CLEANER. I’d stay away from them if I were you. I heard they were DECEPTIVE, but they can also be KIND, so proceed at your own risk.

Zodiac: Cancer (July 12th)

MBTI: ENFJ

Moral Alignment: Lawful Neutral

Death touched Linnea's world from the moment of her birth, her mother unfortunately bleeding out as Linnea screamed in protest of the world and entered into a family of mourning. With a single father and two older brothers, Linnea grew up with fumbling attempts to make up for that feminine void and a wave of overprotectiveness. She was considered their little angel and they doted on her, making her fiercely loyal in return.

And they needed that loyalty. Her dad lost his job, money grew tight, and the kids all pitched in as well as they could, trying to keep things together. One of them went further than the other, going so far as to join a gang and getting himself killed. Linnea was the only one to know about his life of crime and sh kept quiet to try preserving his legacy, but that also meant that she couldn't help give answers for closure. Her father turned to a bottle, giving up on everything that mattered, and her other brother gave up and ran off with his girlfriend, getting away for a fresh start.

He offered to take Linnea, but she didn't go. She alone stayed with her father, and there's a part of her afraid that nothing she did would make a difference. If asked, Linnea wouldn't be able to tell you if it was desperation to help her father that drove her to Nightshade or something else, but either way, she's always been well versed at cleaning up other's messes.

a useless lesbian with little relationship experience because she's always ran around trying to take care of everyone else.

has a second, 'legal' job because she doesn't want to tell her dad what she does, plus she's got those bills to pay.

meditates and does yoga. come to her for breathing exercises

has a green thumb and grows herbs. makes a fantastic cup of tea.

really likes those adult coloring books. adult as in difficult, not xxx.

Connection 1: Coworkers, as soon as i figure out her job Connection 2: (former?) roommate Connection 3: Crush? One sided thing?

[privmu]

RILEY MATILDA JULY

AGE: 36

BIRTHDAY: May 1st 1988

RELATION: Full

TYPE: Solo

GENDER: Ciswoman

PRONOUNS: She/her

ORIENTATION(S): Lesbian

FACE CLAIM: Alicia Vikander

JOB/SCHOOL

JOB: Sports Science professor at PSU

ABOUT

tw: alcohol addiction The big apple, bright lights big city, the city of dreams and whatever other bullshit people call New York. It should have been a magical place to call home, but Riley hated it and everything about it. If you make it here, you can make it anywhere? Alicia Keys was talking out of her ass. And it pretty much started off that way. Riley was born as the only biological child of the Broadway and TV star Cassandra July and her one night stand, producer Joseph Campbell. But it's not like Riley saw much of her parents. Joseph was gone well before she was born and Cassandra? Well that was another story completely.

If you were to ask Riley if Cassandra July was a good mother than the answer is simple - no. In a class in first grade when the children were asked to describe their parents as best as they could, Riley was sat there with a blank sheet of paper. What did her mother look like? What did she do? (Other than drink). What were her hobbies? Riley had no idea. Because she never saw her, never spent time with her, always with a nanny or her grandmother, while her mother was either out at a bar or in rehab and occasionally on stage. So Riley grew up alone, resenting her mother's entire existence.

But then all of a sudden in some sort of flurry of fame, her mother was back. Claiming that she loved her daughter (never actually stating her name during the interview, presumably forgetting) and announced she would be having more children. Adopting three more kids to hand straight over to her nanny. As Riley watched this happen she knew things needed to change, she needed to step up and became the mother that these kids deserved. Okay she was only a couple of years older than them, but she didn't care, they needed the love and attention that she never got. So at a young age she was a surrogate mother to three children, when they scraped their knees she was there, when they failed a test she was there, when they had a broken heart she was there. Even when Cassandra deciding to make an appearance, Riley always took charge.

However doing all of this kind of puts a back burner on your own existing life. Riley was, and still sort of is, a loner. At school she kept her head down and focused on her grades and then as soon as she was done for the day she headed to pick up the others from school and got them home and began dinner. The nannies were useless in her opinion so she always took charge. Luckily she didn't have to bring any money in because there was always plenty. So with all this on her shoulders, she didn't think they'd ever be time to achieve anything for herself.

But it was nice to dream right? Riley loved soccer, it was her main passion in life and she would do anything to become a professional player, but she knew it would never be possible. So she was shocked when she was offered a scholarship for UNC, the same college her hero Mia Hamm went to. But she couldn't, going to North Carolina meant leaving her siblings behind and she couldn't do that, the youngest was only six, and they needed her. So she declined the offer and decided to attend NYU instead, staying close by to her siblings and making sure she was home every night to tuck them into bed.

However halfway into her sophomore year to her absolute surprise she was scouted by a team know then as Sky Blue FC. She didn't understand how she could be scouted so easily, but the team was new and was looking for young exciting talent and apparently Riley was that. There was so much guilt and various other emotions that she was going through, but she couldn't spend her whole life looking at her siblings, she needed to think about herself right? So she said yes, travelled back and forth from New Jersey for training and tried to be home for her siblings whenever she could. Even if it made her feel like a bad sister all the time.

The years passed and Riley kept herself busy. She enjoyed playing soccer, working hard to get as much playing time as she could and scoring goals along the way. With the 2015 World Cup just around the corner, Riley was determined to get called up to the US National Team and represent her country at her first major tournament, although she was now 26 she was hoping that a call up would come. That was until disaster struck in one of her matches and she was forced to come off injured from a bad tackle. She knew right then what had happened, her ACL was torn. The injury happening right before the tournament messed with her head, and with a long recovery time and another injury quickly after she came back, Riley spiralled, giving up completely and hanging up her boots.

Then she wasn't sure what to do, working job to job and never satisfied, totally bitter at the world and all the pain it had caused her over the years. She'd briefly debated cutting contact with her siblings, but she knew that was a bad idea, she needed them to keep her going, even if they were all spread out over the place. But then she started to drink to numb the pain, trying to do anything to forget the hurt and especially to mask every time she felt an uncomfortable twinge in her knee.

However things started to look up more once she met her ex. They were the sunshine to her rain and taught Riley how to appreciate life more, got her to stop drinking and helped her feel those emotions she never thought she would feel again. But sadly, their relationship wasn't perfect. Communication was a big issue, and so was jealousy and many other things on both of their ends. After around two years together they broke up and Riley went back to her "being bitter at the whole world" ways. Thing is though, she could never keep her away from her ex and was always ending up back in bed with her whenever they would see each other.

After the breakup, Riley could have easily hit the bottle again and gone back to old ways, but there was still something in the back of her head, and also in her heart, her love for her ex still there. So instead she went to the root of all of her problems, her injury. There was so many athletes who suffered with ACL injuries and the rate was very high in women's soccer, more research needed to be done. And while doing all of her research and several other courses, Riley took the plunge to become a Sports Science professor.

And now she's in LA. She had never been a PSU alumni, but her siblings said that it was a great place and when the job opportunity came up, she jumped at the chance to go. Plus this was her chance to get out of New York once and for all. It clearly wasn't her place to be. So now in her first year teaching at PSU, she's excited about what this new challenge is going to bring.