#rip coris jaw. never had a chance

[coridallasmultipass]

Me, the other night: "I may be going through a fuck of a life situation, but it could always be worse if I broke a flower pot in the shower again."

Me, today, waking up with a swollen and painful mouth infection:

[ashintheairlikesnow]

“Why are you doing this” sentence fic game

CW: Referenced torture, dehumanization, pet whump, brief vague noncon reference

He waits for them to ask why he’s doing this, but they don’t - they already know, because they probably do it, too. That knowledge keeps crashing in on him, as he walks around this new house, this new place, this whole new world. They know, too, all of them, exactly what he feels.

When his roommate opens the closet door to find him already curled up, pressed back into the corner, taking comfort in the warmth and weight of the dark, they don’t ask him why. Allyn simply closes the door again and goes back to whatever other thing they were doing, or every once in a while climbs in beside him, and the two of them curl up in the dark together until they can stand to face the light.

He still wears his collar, a welcome feeling, comfort and safety. He won’t give it up, he tells himself. His collar is safe. 

It’s safe.

He doesn’t know if he’s safe here, yet, and he can’t take it off until he knows. He thought he was safe before, and they caught him, again and again. Picking up new scars that cover his back from nape to tailbone, the backs of his thighs. Knees bruised and torn so often they’re calloused and rough, a jaw that clicks sometimes from how often he’s had to keep it open for what felt like hours at a time. 

He was never expected to learn how to love them, after his first and true owner was gone. The others wanted him only to scream, and cry, and please.

Every time he’s run away, he’s been found, and this won’t be any different, will it? No. Too many chances to feel safe, ripped away. He won’t risk being caught off-guard by the next one. When they come for him again, he’ll have his collar on, to show he can be good... and then he’ll run again.

He’ll keep running, for as long as it takes. 

But if he hides in the closet, in the dark, maybe it will take just a little bit longer to lose it all.

He thinks a lot about names. He went so long without one, and he hoards the things they call each other now like a dragon with treasure, keeping them close, protected. 

He writes their names in pen on the closet wall - he never lost his words, but he tells no one. It feels like the only thing he has that can’t be taken away, at least as long as nobody knows to take it.

He has always been good at lying, believable. He lies all the time, about everything, even when it serves no purpose, does him no good. He lies and lies and lies.

He can’t remember how to stop.

But he doesn’t lie about names. Instead, he writes them, pressing the nib of the pen into the wood until it’s a carving as much as a word-

NOVA ALLYN ELI CORY COREY KORI KAURI CHRIS JAKE ANTONI SARITA

Then, at the bottom, nearly touching the floor, he writes his own. Years with no name, and now he has one, and he picked it out himself.

JAMESON

He saw it written on bottles lined up on the mantlepiece in one of the homes he was held in, read the word over and over and over trapped in the cage under the side table. He likes the sound, the way it rolls off his tongue. 

He has his own name, now. 

If he doesn’t tell anyone about it, no one can take it away.

They wait for him to choose one, here, and none of them know he already has.

[calpalirwin]

Blood is Thicker Than Water

Summary and A/N: Our little family has a very strong understanding that biology only goes so far. The rest of the world seems to be a little bit slower at grasping the concept, especially now that the twins are born. AKA: the pissed off Ashton fic

Word Count: ~1k

And away, and away we go!

__

“So, before we delve into the interview here, congratulations are in order. Ashton, you just became a father. How’s that’s been adjusting to being a first-time father to twins?”

“Biological dad,” Ashton amended, his jaw tensing ever so slightly. “Uh, but it’s great. A little hectic admittedly because there’s two of them this time around. But, my wife and I couldn’t be happier with the newest additions to our family.”

“And are the twins going to call you ‘daddy,’ or are we still sticking with ‘papa’ like your stepkids call you.”

Again, Ashton’s jaw ticked, tongue clicking in his cheek, his fingers curling into fists. “Henry and Hope will eventually call me ‘Papa’ just like Mason and Bailey do now,” was the tightly controlled response.

“Wonderful, wonderful. And I bet Luke’s being plenty helpful in showing you the ropes of how to bond with your kids, like he learned to do with Posy.”

“I’m sorry?” both men asked, leaning forward slightly, certain their ears were playing tricks on them. There was no way their interviewer could be this dense.

“Well, Luke, I imagine your bonding experience with Posy was different from yours with Lily. And I imagine Ashton’s is very similar.”

“No,” Luke shook his head quickly. “No. The bonding experience I had with Posy was the exact same one I had with Lily.”

“Yeah, and I was in the hospital with my wife when she had Bailey. I’m not sure what you’re trying to insinuate here. That our bond with our ‘step’ kids is somehow less than the one we have with those who share our DNA?” Ashton put air quotes around the word ‘step’ and physically gagged on actually saying it.

“Well…”

“That’s such bullshit…” Luke muttered under his breath, giving a sad shake of his head.

“Say that louder, Luke,” Ashton encouraged, his eyes flashing dangerously.

“That’s bullshit,” Luke repeated in a stronger tone. “There’s so much more to being a parent than DNA, and to suggest otherwise is downright insulting.” The blonde unclipped his mic, setting it down on a small end table beside him, before rising to his feet. “We’re done here.”

“Exactly,” Ashton nodded in agreement, but not rising to his feet before taking his chance to give the interviewer a piece of his mind. “In my opinion, there is a huge difference between being fathers and being dads. I have a father. But, I am a dad. To all four of my kids. The same way Luke is a dad to both of his daughters. When you’re there for these kids every day like we have, there’s no ‘step’ anything about it. So, I believe, what you meant to say was ‘Hey, Ashton, congrats on the twins, how is it adjusting to having two at once compared to one at a time?’ because I am a parent to four fantastic kids, not two. Period. End of discussion. And end of interview.” With his final words, Ashton rushed to his feet, ripping off his mic and dropping it on the floor, before following Luke out the door.

~~~

News of Ashton and Luke storming out 10 minutes into an interview hit the tabloids like a tidal wave, to the point where the two men were directed by management to lay low for a while. It was heavily suggested that the men make a formal apology for their “unprofessionalism” and get an interview rescheduled, but after some more choice words, and backing from Calum and Michael, an apology was never made and interviewing through that particular channel again was quickly scratched off from future promo lists.

Laying low, however, didn’t stop paparazzi from finding Finn to get his side of things. “Mr. Campbell!” one of them shouted as Finn walked from his office to his car. “Could we have a quick word?”

“About what?” Finn asked, neither slowing or quickening his pace. 

“Did you find it at all irritating of Ashton referring to your children as his?”

“Do you have another team out pestering Cory with your inane questions?” Finn asked in lieu of answering. Then, “Actually, don’t answer that. No. I’m not the least bit irritated at Ashton referencing Mason and Bailey as his. Or jealous because that’s the actual word you’re looking for. No. Ashton’s relationship with Mason and Bailey doesn’t diminish my own with them, anymore than mine diminishes his. I fully agree with what Luke said about there being more to being a parent than just simple DNA. I think it’s very easy to paint biological and step parents as sworn enemies, and it is unfortunate that that is some people’s experience. But that is not my family’s experience. Nor will it ever be. And honestly, the fact that the world cannot seem to wrap it’s head around the idea that children can have 4 parents- and you’ll be smart to notice that I’m omitting ‘biological’ and ‘step’ and I do that for a reason- is frankly baffling. Actually, I would argue that it has far more to say on those who would willingly shit on the concept of children having multiple parents who love than unconditionally than it will ever say about how my own family operates. Now, if you’ll kindly excuse me, I’m on my way home to see my wife and kids.” Finn’s calm and steady tone gave off the impression that he was bored rather than annoyed, his words holding no malice, only simple fact. 

He opened his car to get in, but paused briefly. “Oh,” he added, a thought coming to him, “and when you put this in the latest celebrity/entertainment news, if there is even the smallest indication that you diminished anyone of my family member’s relationship to another family member’s, or twisted my words in any way to suit your own narrative, I will personally make sure you see the end of this riveting career you call journalism. And yes, that includes any mention of the word ‘biological,’ ‘step-relationship,’ or, God forbid, ‘real.’ And if you have to think about whether or not it qualifies, chances are it doesn’t. Any questions? No? Good. Have a nice rest of your evening.”

__

Tag List

@frontmanash​​ @goeatsomelife​​ @flameraine​​ @creator-appreciator​​ @cxddlyash​​ @1-irwin-94​​ @sparkling-calm​​ @tea4sykes​​ @youngblood199456​​ @5-seconds-of-obsession​​ @gosh-im-short​​ @aquarius-hood1996​​ @talkfastromance4​​ @itjustkindahappenedreally​​ @philthepegacorn​​ @boomerash​​ @teenwolfss24​​ @karajaynetoday​ @myfavfanficsever​ @stormrider505​ @cashtonisruiningmylife​ @another-lonely-heart​

[the-truest-sentence-i-know]

Chapter Twenty | Protest

Fandom: Disney’s Descendants

Summary: Quinn Little, raised in Auradon by Little John, finds out that her heritage is not what she thought it was. When Little John tells her that her real father was a villain, she must go on a journey of self-discovery that will bring her to all the forbidden places in the United States of Auradon.

Pre-canon & canon compliant to the first Descendants film.

Word Count: 2.3k  |  20/23

ao3 ||| ff.net ||| wattpad ||| quotev

Dad had never pushed Quinn on what happened while she was gone. Everything she had told him and had been when she was ready to.

But one evening, when they were sitting on the back porch, he saw her pull a dagger from under her clothing and fiddle with it absentmindedly.

“Do you carry that everywhere?” he asked, his tone light but Quinn could hear the concern.

She did carry it everywhere – hidden under her clothes or stuck in her boot. She shrugged. “Old habits die hard, I guess.” The truth was that she did not quite feel safe without some kind of weapon on her. She knew it was silly – no one was going to attack her; she did not have to worry about the Innocents or the Queens or even Maleficent over here. And yet... she felt the prickle of someone watching her and immediately prepared herself for a fight. But she did not want to tell Dad about that. He was worried enough about her as it was.

He watched her closely and then looked back out at the dark forest. “When King Richard returned from the Crusades and took back his throne, I thought everything could go back to normal. Robin got his land back, the rest of us got handsome rewards. But we had been living in Sherwood Forest for years by that time, always ready for a fight, knowing that at any given moment, we could be attacked.” He looked back at her. “That fear doesn’t disappear overnight, Quinn. It sticks around, in the back of your mind, in the muscle memory and reflexes that you needed over there. In the old habits –” He gestured at her dagger. “– that you just can’t seem to break.”

Quinn smiled a little and leaned her head on his shoulder. “Does it ever go away? Will I eventually feel completely safe again?”

She did not see it, but there was pain in his eyes at her words. She was too young to be asking questions like that, he thought. But of course, there were younger children than her on the Isle who had experienced the same and more than her. He held Quinn tight to him. “Maybe not entirely, but it shrinks to a manageable size. And reflexes like those aren’t all bad. They can come in handy. Remember that time Alex Dale lost his balance during target practice and nearly shot Mark?”

“Uncle Robin had an arrow notched in a split second and shot the arrow out of the air,” Quinn remembered. “One of the best trick shots I’ve ever seen.”

“He would not have been able to do that had he not been Robin Hood of the Merry Men,” Dad said.

Quinn nodded and they looked out at the forest again.

•••

Resistance to the campaign had picked up after the press conference. Posters were torn down faster than they could put them up. The coverage of their campaign was overwhelmingly negative and Quinn was starting to see how far ‘goodness’ really went.

A week later, they organized a demonstration outside the palace, hoping to get the attention of the king and queen.

When the guards saw them all marching towards the gates, they tensed and looked around in concern. The head guard stepped forward and approached Quinn.

“What are you doing?” he asked gruffly.

“Staging a peaceful protest,” Quinn said calmly. “As is our right.”

“It is your right to bother the king and queen while they work?” he asked.

Quinn frowned. “It is our right to criticize our leaders and voice that criticism through demonstration.”

The guard looked at her, then at the crowd behind her, holding signs. “Don’t cause any trouble,” hie said finally and headed back to his post.

Quinn turned back and smiled. “Let’s go,” she said.

Somebody had brought a megaphone and passed it to Quinn, while someone else pressed a paper into her hand. On it was various chants they had come up with. As they spread out in front of the castle, she led them in the chants, like “All the kids on the Isle / Didn’t get a fair trial” and “If a dream is a wish that your heart makes / Then I dream of King Beast fixing his mistakes.” She felt a thrill when they roared the words back at her.

When she grew tired, she passed the megaphone on to Cory, who took up the chant. She melted into the crowd and shouted with them. The feeling was indescribable. The energy and adrenaline made her heart pound hard in her chest. Her whole being felt warm and full, standing shoulder to shoulder with people who agreed with her, with whom she belonged, fighting for all the kids of the Isle. It was a sense of belonging that reminded her of the Crew, and for a moment, she stilled herself and looked up at the clear blue sky. This one’s for you, Harper, she thought.

After about half an hour, she was pulled back to the front and handed the megaphone again. “Something rousing,” Mark said to her, before pulling away, leaving her alone in the semicircle of space she stood in.

Quinn looked out at the crowd and felt that rush, that righteous anger, build up in her chest. “We are here today to fight for the rights of those who cannot fight for themselves!” The crowd cheered. “The children of the Isle were set up to fail! They were born to villains on an island rife with crime, poverty, and abuse. They did nothing wrong! They are being punished for their parents’ crimes!” They roared their approval.

Mark caught her eye and gestured for her to turn around and pointed at the palace. Quinn turned to face the gilded gates. “King Beast, Queen Belle, I now speak directly to you. I don’t know if you can hear me, but I hope you can!” She took a breath. “How can you sit in your palace and claim to be ruling your people fairly, when children are suffering at your hands? The hardships that the children of the Isle endure are all because of policies you put in place! What did you think was going to happen to them? They had no chance to choose a different path from their parents. You set them up to fail, your majesty! Do you even care?” She was so caught up that she did not realize the guards were approaching until one grabbed her shoulder. Quinn jumped and nearly punched him in the jaw out of instinct.

“I think that’s enough,” said the head guard. “Time to break it up.”

“We’re barely been here an hour,” said Quinn indignantly. “And we have the right to be here.”

“You’re causing a disruption,” he said. “Go home before you cause a scene.”

“Causing a scene is kind of the point,” Quinn snapped.

Out of the corner of her eye, Quinn saw a tv camera, with Snow White reporting. The guards were glancing over at her apprehensively as well.

She pulled her arm out of the guard’s grip and shouted into the megaphone, “Tale as old as time, song as old as rhyme! Imprisoning children for no crime! Innocent kids doing time!” The crowd, who had started shuffling nervously at the advance of the guards, quickly took up the chant.

“Alright,” grunted the guard, trying to grab at the megaphone, but Quinn danced out of the way, repeating the chant.

The crowd chanted along, but guards were starting to try and break them up. Quinn continued to dodge the guard but knew that she could only avoid them for so long without resorting to violence – and that was the last thing she needed. So she turned back to the palace to say one last thing. “Your whole thing, King Beast, is the power of second chances, so why don’t you –”

The megaphone was ripped from her grasp as a pair of strong arms pulled her arms behind her back. Quinn thought she saw a curtain in one of the high windows move like someone had just let it close. Like someone had been watching. She felt a bit of stubborn satisfaction; somebody had heard them, so maybe the king and queen had too.

“I think that’s enough,” said the voice of the guard behind her.

Quinn struggled a bit. “Am I under arrest, sir? If so, for what crime?”

“Disrupting the peace,” he said. “Unreasonable criticism of the king and encouraging a rebellion against the king.”

“First of all, that second thing isn’t illegal, secondly, I was not encouraging rebellion, I am merely voicing my criticisms of the king’s decisions.”

As they led her away, Quinn saw that a lot of the others looked like they wanted to fight back. A few others were also being arrested. She caught Chloe’s eye and shook her head urgently.

Chloe quickly turned to the crowd. “Hey, remember, we are here to lead a non-violent protest! Let’s try not to give them the wrong idea here!”

Quinn found Mark’s face in the crowd and he looked at her in concern. She could almost hear him saying, “I didn’t mean that rousing.”

 Quinn was put in a separate holding cell from the others. It was squeaky clean in there and she laid on the cot, staring at the ceiling. She knew she should be concerned about this, but she was not. The adrenaline from the protest was still pumping through her veins. Maybe getting arrested was not the best image for the movement, but at least they had made a mark. There was no way anyone could not know about them now.

She dropped off to sleep for a little bit and when she woke, the rush was gone. In its absence, doubt crept in. Maybe this was a terrible mistake. Maybe no one would take them seriously now. Maybe righteous anger was not the emotion to go with.

 The next morning, Quinn and the few other protesters who were arrested, including Mark, were released. They were not going to be charged with anything but were given strict warnings.

Dad was there to pick them up. “Your father,” he said to Mark. “asked if you’d visit.”

“But we have so much work to do!” Quinn protested. “This is just the beginning.”

“If this is just the beginning, are you going to get yourself charged with something next time?” Dad’s tone was direct and strict, and he flinched when he heard himself. He sighed. “Let’s just go home for the weekend.”

“We’re fighting injustice, Dad,” Quinn said quietly, knowing she sounded like a petulant teenager. After living with next to no adult supervision on the Isle, she had to get used to it again.

“We should probably let everything cool down a bit anyway,” Mark said.

Quinn nodded. “You’re probably right.” Admitting when you’re wrong: another thing not encouraged on the Isle.

 Robin and Marian Hood met them at the train station, looking concerned but clearly trying not to look it.

“Hi, Uncle Robin, Aunt Marian,” Quinn said, uncomfortably, but they hugged her, just as they had Mark.

The ride back to Sherwood was rife with polite conversation – avoiding the protest. They talked about Will Scarlet’s new horse, the upcoming wedding of one of the Sherwood kids, and how the apple harvest seemed to be doing very well this year.

Finally, it was Marian who snapped. “Are you two alright?” she asked.

“We’re fine, Mom,” Mark reassured her. “We got roughed up a bit – but no worse for wear.”

“What actually happened?” Robin asked. “They’re making you all sound like crazy rioters on the news, but they’re not showing a lot of footage.”

Quinn thanked all the powers that were that she ended up in Sherwood. “We were peaceful – a bit loud maybe, but nothing more. I think we just questioned the king’s decisions a few too many times and the guards weren’t comfortable with that.”

Robin kept his eyes on the road but nodded understandingly. “I thought that might be the case.”

“But you definitely need to work on your optics,” Marian said. “Because even Sherwood people were hesitant to support you all after yesterday.”

Quinn and Mark shared a look. They had a long road ahead of them.

•••

Jax was starting to realize how helpless he was. It had been weeks since Quinn had left, and he had no idea what was happening. He had started to watch the news broadcasts from Auradon, but there was no sign of her.

“And should we be concerned about this campaign led by a girl from Sherwood?”

Jax’s head shot up and he caught a split-second shot of Quinn in front of a crown before it was cut, replaced by one of King Beast’s anti-evil PSAs that were shot specifically for the Isle and no one took seriously. “What the hell?”

He watched the news even more carefully after that and realized that the news coverage would sometimes, seemingly randomly, be interrupted, usually by the ridiculous PSAs, or by old footage from past broadcasts.

Finally, he decided to consult the little whiz kid of the Isle himself. Carlos was in his usual spot in the back of Jafar’s Bargain Shop, fiddling with wires.

“Hey, kid,” Jax said, sitting down next to him. “I was wondering if you could do me a favour.”

“Don’t you already owe me?” he asked, not looking up from his work.

“No, you owed Quinn, so we’re all even now.”

“What do you need?” He held out a hand. “Can you hand me the needlenose plyers?”

Jax did so. “Can you get the Auradon news broadcasts, not the ones they censor for the Isle?”

He was quiet for a moment. “Yeah, probably.” He looked over at Jax. “What’s in it for me?”

“Free passage in Crew territory,” Jax said. “You can come over, stay, whatever, whenever you want.” He had seen in Carlos what the saw in all the kids – the need to get out from under his mother’s thumb. Maybe he could give him that.

“Alright,” Carlos said. “That sounds like a deal.”

[rilesandlucas]

HIDING. RUCAS ONE SHOT.

‘No, mum we are just friends. How many times do I have to say that.’ Lucas called out to his mother who was once again hassling him. He loved Riley, she was like a third sister to him. First his actual, very bitchy, sister Hailee. Then Maya then Riley. It was only when he was younger and more naive to what dating and love actually meant that he liked Riley. She was just a little schoolboy crush he used to have.

Sighing in frustration he walked out the door to head to school. It was one week before graduation and Lucas couldn’t be more excited to be attending nyu with three of his friends. Farkle and smackle reached their potential and both went to a prestigious school in Sweden. Although he was going to miss them tremendously he knew this is what was best from them.

After a boring subway ride Lucas was walking through the corridor of Abigail Adams. He instantly saw the perky brunette and his heart starting beating, he knew it was just because he was instantly happy when around her that his heart started beating. It has nothing to do with his attraction towards her. Or her legs in that skirt- no it had nothing to do with her physically per say he thought walking towards the friends. 

'Lucas hi.’ Maya groaned obviously very happy to be at school. He laughed and gave her a side hug before handshaking Zay and Farkle. He never knew what to do with Smackle, hugging was a no no, she hated handshakes and so he usually just nodded and said 'hello superior’ and that seemed good enough to her. Then he turned to the energetic brunette and pulled her in for a massive hug. He loved hugging her in the mornings, he could soak up all her happy energy to get through the day. He pulled away and took one last look at her smiling face before stepping out and forming a circle. The others chattered about what they should do for graduation after party but he just zoned out. It wasn’t that he didn’t care it’s just that he was ok with everything. Farkle and Smackle began to talk about there holiday to Sweden for summer break, they wanted to get a feel for the university before they moved there. Maya and Zay then began chattering about their personal finding-themselves vendetta. They had both decided they needed to breathe a similar but very far away air. So they saved and were spending most of their summer in Australia. They both liked the fact that it was a very relaxed be achy country in some parts and they liked the fact that it was a continent, country and an island. Meaning it was very much on it’s own. He didn’t know why they were so obsessed with it but they were and he tried not to bother them. He and Riley were the only ones not going anywhere, but he had an idea. By some unlikely chance Lucas had acquired tickets, airfares and accommodation to Paris for a week. He had answered some short story competition and he entered one about Riley. He managed to win second prize, which indeed was an all expenses paid trip to Paris. He knew she would be thrilled and organised with Cory and Topanga the whole thing, and to not let her plan anything else. 

He planned to tell her about it at graduation but as time ticked by slowly he didn’t know if he could keep it from her that long. He felt a warm hand touch his arm and he flinched slightly at the unexpected contact. looking at the person who touched him he smiled seeing Riley staring at him worried. He could get lost in her deep chocolate brown eyes, he melts in them any time he sees them. It was only platonic though, I mean it’s friendly to relish in someones eyes. They were only friendly he reminded himself, he couldn’t get caught up in this love when he would never be good enough for him. A slap to his chest bought him back to reality and he realised that he had floated off into space yet again.

'Lucas, are you finally back.’ Riley prattled concern showering her face.

'Yeah Yeah sorry. I didn’t get much sleep last night.’ He groaned remembering all the tossing and turning about telling Riley about Paris.

'Is everything ok. Anything I can help with or we can talk about.’ She asked her hand still not leaving his arm. She dragged him over to the seat by the stairs and sat looking at him front on. 

'Riles-’ He started but she raised her free hand up to his lips before he said anything.

'Don’t say it’s nothing. I mean I am studying to be a counsellor.’ She tempted and he rolled his eyes. 

'Ummm I’m just worried about change. I mean with change comes failure, uncertainty and so many other things. I don’t know if it’s going to be a good change either. Just for as long as I’ve known I’ve always dealt horribly with change.’ He ranted never once looking in his eyes. He knew the truth in statement but he didn’t know what it was directed towards. 

'Well I think you’re pretty good at it. I mean when you moved from Texas to New York. That was a pretty big change and you made yourself the better version of you.’ She spoke so brightly that Lucas felt like with her direction he could do anything. 

'And I’ll be with you for a little longer.’ It was only then that Lucas realised how close they both were. One small push of his head and his lips would be on her plump ones. His eyes still focused on her soft pink lips he moved a strand a hair out of her face. He felt no liquid his throat and all he wanted to do was lean forward and kiss. Kiss her and show her how much he loved her. Loved her. At that thought he stood abruptly, he loved Riley. Instead of pushing her away he had to do something about it. A safe life without her, or a life with her fully and possible failure. What is better. He always thought the first one, but now he was thinking the latter. Muttering an apology he raced off into Mr. Matthews classroom, very late. He didn’t care though, he had a plan to make.

—————————————-

He walked out of the classroom ready to win over Riley. He had managed to get Zay and Farkle on board without catching Riley’s attention. Which he thought was a win. 

As he rounded the corner he saw something he never wanted to see. Charlie frigan Gardner and Riley Brooke Matthews. He sighed as he looked a little closer and saw that Riley looked quite uncomfortable. 

'Look Charlie. I’ve told you several times, as lovely as it is. I don’t want to go out with you. I just don’t see you and I in a relationship.’ She uttered looking for an escape.

'Why not. Is it that Friar guy. He’s no good for you.’ He coughed and Lucas couldn’t take anymore as he walked away. He clenched his jaw as he punched the nearest tree. He wasn’t good enough for her and he had always known it. Why would he even think there was a chance. Even Charlie gardener knew there wasn’t.

'Damn mad dog, kick any harder and you might break the tree.’ Someone yelled forcing Lucas to turn towards them. He was face with the small, But nonetheless scary, Maya Penelope Hart. Automatically he thought of every bad thing he’s done over the past week or two, as a person does when someone confronts them and they don’t know why. Then he realised the real reason Maya was out here. She saw everything, and he had no doubt Zay would’ve blabbered about it. 

'You know why she doesn’t even go on a date with any of the guys that ask her.’ Maya asked moving slowly towards Lucas.

'Because, I don’t know, she only dates people she likes.’ He scoffed and Maya just rolled her eyes at his shallow anser.

'Well yes. We both know Riley pretty well and we know she has so much hope. Don’t you think she would want the boy to be happy. Don’t you think she would have enough hope to try once and see how it goes.’ Maya pondered and Lucas’ face fell at her reply. He noticed Maya was now sitting down beside the tree and in fear of being kicked he sat beside her.

'I know the reason her hope isn’t there. It’s because her hope is all on someone else.’ Maya paused and Lucas’ hands shook at the urgency and jealousy of where her hope was going.

'Ya see there’s this guy, from Texas, who doesn’t think he’s good enough. He also kind of hates the idea of them not working but that’s only minor, I think he worked that one out. Anyway, Riley is putting her hope into him, and him noticing she likes him and he likes her. Hoping can only work for so much though, some people are too oblivious and need it explained to them. So why don’t you go grab a drink and go through with the plan. 'Cause Riley really would love to go to Paris with you, and only you.’ Maya finished before standing up and walking away, leaving him no time to answer. 

Hitting himself he reminded himself that you have to have skin in the game to stay in the game, but you don’t get a win unless you play in the game. You get love for it, you get hate for it, you get nothing if you wait for it.

—————————————–

Riley stumbled towards her locker, for once, glad that her day was over. She was sick of Charlie and him going after her, and he had a go at Lucas, her Lucas. That wasn’t ok and she made sure he knew it. She twisted the lock and did her combination, the cold black pinching her skin. When her locker was opened she went straight to her books but a note hit her instead. It read two simple letters in bold writing. Science Lab. She felt tingles throughout her stomach. She didn’t know if they were a good feeling or a bad feeling but at this time she didn’t care. She was too curious to even think about who it might be. Maybe it was Charlie, but after today she thought better of it.

Creaking open the science lab door she saw Farkle standing at the bench. Smiling she bolted over to him. Farkle saw Riley running over to him and prepared himself.

'Bonjour Riley.’ Farkle called and Riley was beaming even more now. French was her favourite language. She said a quick hello and tapped her toes as Farkle pulled something out from under him.

'Here you go.’ Riley looked down at the Purple Luggage tag and a note, Ripping open the note she saw the words Music Room in the same writing as before. Not being able to contain herself she waved and yelled thank you before sprinting down the hall. Turning the corners and running into several people she made it to the double doors. Pushing them open without even looking she stomped in and fell over a drum. A loud bang was produced and Riley groaned. Not a moment later she saw a hand in front of her face. With no hesitation she took it and was pulled up to face no other than Zay. Smiling she looked down and saw more stuff in his hands. She could hear faint music and it took her a second to realise it was la vie en rose. 

'Hey sugar, you are looking as pretty as Paris after midnight, here you go.’ Zay offered and Riley tore the items out of his hands. She could hear him laugh at her eagerness but she was too absorbed to care. Looking at the packet she saw a lock and a permanent marker. No time to process she looked at the note. History Class. 

'Bye Zay bae.’ She yelled once again sprinting down the halls. She ran past Charlie Gardner, sulking, rolling her eyes she continued her expedition to the history classroom. 

It didn’t take her long to get there but when she got there she saw Maya blocking her way. 

'Maya I need to get-’ She started but Maya raised her hand.

'I am the final road block peaches. Take on the world.’ She stated before she handed her an envelope. She went to open it but Maya’s quick hand stopped her. 

'Not until you get in there.’ Maya spoke moving away. She walked over to the door holding the clod metal handle. She took a second to just be, to think, just to not rush. Taking a deep breathe she opened the door and looked around the dimly lit room. There were candles on every desk and it smelt like rain. Facing the front of the room she saw none other then Lucas Friar sitting on her fathers desk with roses in his hand. She felt like her heart was going to explode and she couldn’t get the smile off her face. 

'Hello. I see you found me. Sorry the hunt was small, I had short notice.’ He glanced down and she instantly went over to him and grabbed his arm.

'It was perfect, but what was it for.’ He put the roses behind him on the desk and gave her his full attention.

'Riley Matthews. For so long I have been hiding something from myself. I pretended I didn’t know what it was, I pretended it wasn’t real because I was scared. Scared of change, of not being good enough but I’m sick of waiting. Of getting nothing. Riley Matthews, I love you, and I’m sorry for shutting you down and pretending I didn’t. But by pretending I fell even harder. I want to be your boyfriend and I hope you want to be my girlfriend.’ He ranted slowing down onto one knee before her. Her mouth was agape, her hand covering it. After a few deadly moments for Lucas she began to nod slowly, then a lot faster.

'Yes I’ll be your boyfriend you dope. I was waiting a long time.’ At those words he picked her up and spun her around planting one kiss on her lips as he put her down.

'Oh and there’s one more thing.’ he spoke walking over towards the board.

'if you wanna I kinda won a trip to-’ He begun before pulling the board down. There was a perfect painting of Riley and Lucas under the Eifell tower that Maya had drawn.

'We are going to Paris.’ She yelled bouncing up and down.

'Yeah I won flights, accommodation, spending money and your parents know-’ He was cut off by a pair of lips meeting his. Her arms wrapped his neck and he held her waist tight. Slowly she pulled away leaving their noses touching slighlt.

'Je t'aime Lucas.’ She whispered.

'Je t'aime Riley.’

[secondgcn]

Time Period: Post May, Pre Twins

There’s a bold knock on the door much like the kind a parent would give right before swinging the door open. One that says ‘I own this place’ or better yet ‘I own you.’ I’m in the middle of my room and I debate answering. I debate on being caught doing the one thing she told me not to do: “Do anything you want, but this needs to stop,” she had once demanded before dropping two liquor bottles on the floor, the glass shattering around the room. Silence. Is she gone? Bang bang bang! I know why so many horror movies use this mechanism, this mysterious knock on the door. It has the weight of a nightmare. Do you ever know, really, what’s out there? No. But you open it anyway. Nothing bad ever knocks, or so you tell yourself. So I open the door but suddenly realize, she never knocks. Rather, she asserts herself like the sun at dawn. No light, light. Just like that. She walks in and studies me. I can only remember that she never knocks –– I’m waiting for the nightmare. “What’s wrong?” She asks. “You’re about to tell me,” I answer. She half smiles but she doesn’t mean it. She tells me to sit down. She doesn’t take me by my shoulders and lead me to my bed. She doesn’t take my hand and guide me on where to go. She winces when I reach out to move a stray hair on her face. She won’t touch me, she won’t let me touch her. “You’re about to tell me,” I repeat.

She’s pregnant. Had she not shared, I wouldn’t have noticed. She covers herself with giant sweaters and oversized shirts. Today, she wears a fitted top. She is pregnant. “How far along are you?” I ask. “Four months.” She answers. I don’t think it’s mine until she says these words. We’ve only been apart for two, four months ago we were together. I smile. She doesn’t. A child with someone you aren’t with is complicated for others, but it won’t be for us. She’s my best friend, my only companion. I reach out to touch her, and again she flinches. What am I missing?

“It’s not yours.” The words ring in my ear. It hurts. I don’t understand. Her eyes are wet. The most honest and loyal person I know tells me she was dishonest, disloyal. My ears are ringing and I cover them with my hands. My vision fades for a moment –– I hope that when it clears I would have been dreaming. I close my eyes and when I open them again nothing has changed. She’s crying in front of me. “You’re lying. You wouldn’t do that,” I say. Prove me wrong, I pray. She shakes her head. She did, she cries. Why is she crying? “Why are you crying?” I ask. “Elvis. . .” she answers. “Why are you crying?!” I bellow. The window rattles. “I can’t fucking believe it,” I repeat 6 times before taking the thick hardcover journal on my end table, throwing it at her. It hits her under the jaw and neck, the gold chain I used as a book mark leaves a cut.

She holds her face, shocked. My family comes into the room one by one, I don’t remember who comes in first. They take in the scene. May slips out before they can process that I hit her. Some try running for her. I am one of them. My Father and Michael hold me back. When I stop resisting they let me go.  They are scared of me, I see it in their eyes. Sheena is brave. She stands in front of the door so I cannot walk out. She doesn’t know what happened, but she sees my eyes watering. She feels sorry for me. "I have to go, I can’t be here,” I announce was they ask what happened. “What happened, son?” My Father asks me as if he cares. “I have to go,” I repeat. Michael tries to say something, but I put a finger up to tell him to stop. I will not listen to his psychobabble today. He puts a hand on my shoulder, I shrug him off. “Just stop for a second, Yash,” Sheena puts her hands on me and I push her back harder than expected. She falls. I look down at her and she looks at me. I almost break, but I don’t. I scurry out of the room as fast as I can. Mom calls after me when she sees me at the end of the stairs. I don’t look in her direction.

I apparate off the property first chance I get. How I do so without getting splinched is a miracle. I open my eyes and I’m in a cemetery in Amsterdam. The same place my ancestors lay, the same place my Father will lay, the same place I will one day lay. It is not my first time here, but it is my first time here by choice. I walk around arbitrarily, using lumos to read headstones. A whole life lived for a headstone and if you’re lucky, a few old flowers strewn about. I do this for as long as i can distract myself, but then the reality sets in. Heartbreak.

I thought I knew heartbreak. I thought no one knew heartbreak like I did. I was wrong. I thought I knew heartbreak when Amelia died on the day we were supposed to be married. I thought I knew heartbreak when the woman I had fought myself for, threw the ring that I meant to propose with in my face, slashing my cheek open, leaving me with a scar so I can never forget. But infidelity is something that you can barely scrape by on, and i’m a lavish kind of guy. May came into my life at a time I needed her the most: When Fiona came into my life it felt like God saying, “Look at this masterpiece I’ve made especially for you!” But when May came into my life it felt like God saying, “Look, it’s me! I haven’t deserted you!”

What people don’t understand about sadness is to hit rock bottom isn’t being in the worst state of misery you can imagine. Hitting rock bottom is much more than that; it’s not just sadness, it’s not just pain. If anything, the worst form of rock bottom is not caring at all. I had spent the entirety of my adult life caring too much, so in that moment i stopped caring altogether. I walked through that cemetery feeling completely empty, void of all feelings. Just heartbreak.

Loneliness has followed me my whole life, everywhere. In bars, in cars, sidewalks, stores, everywhere. There’s no escape. I’m God’s lonely man. I’d done it once, twice, and the third time is the charm because I just can’t do it any longer. More times than I can count I’ve ripped out my arc reactor in an attempt to greet death. Before I know it I plunge the device back into my chest when my body begins begging me for life. As I walk through the cemetery, I can’t help but feel the same urge to pull the arc out. I do. I toss it to the ground and keep walking. I struggle for breath within a few seconds. I don’t go back for it. I’m going to die and I want to talk to someone. I debate on who to call for what seems like an eternity. I call Cordelia. She’s never left me. She answers. She sounds happy. I think of hanging up, of sparing her heartache but I don’t. I can hardly talk but I thank her for never betraying me. “Elvis?” She asks. I can hear her little boy in the background. She walks out of the room and shuts the door. “Where are you, let me come visit you.” She says simply, but I cannot talk now. I fall to the floor, my phone falling away from me. I can hear her asking for me, and all I can do is croak. My eyes catch the arc glowing blue several feet away from me. I am not scared.

I see a woman who is calling my name. She’s running, her hair is bouncing against her back with each step. The moon is glowing so bright against her skin that she looks illuminated from within. I think to myself, am I dead? Is she an angel? Will she take me to the afterlife, for once and for all? I quickly pray that I won’t be stuck in another limbo as she runs towards me, her hands glowing with light. I feel a force to my chest. Each time I blink I see the woman hovering above me a little more clear. “Cor–?” It’s all I have the strength to say. I feel my chest and there is no longer a gaping hole, she’s put the arc back in. As it powers my body I get more sense of touch, realizing that she’s taken me in her arms. She sits me up and holds me, her face against the side of mine, crying, scared.

She took me home with her. After they put their kids to sleep they came in the room with me, Cory sitting down on the bed next to me, Adam sitting on an arm chair, scooting it all the way next to me. We spent the whole night talking. Adam took the next day off of work, but then ended up taking a week off. Cory spent the next month home with me. I would have left sooner, feeling like I had overdid my stay, but she wouldn’t let me. Even with a little boy running around and baby girl on her hip, she wouldn’t let me out of her sight. She means well, but I know that I’m now on suicide watch. This is what my life has succumbed to. So I delighted myself in the company of the Aldridge family. I let myself be pampered by Cordelia Arkan herself. I comforted her crying baby and chased Adam Jr. around the house.

In one months time when Cory deemed I was in condition to leave her house, I did. I bid farewell as if I was a bullet loaded by mistake. These memories are hard to forget. Caring someone is hard to regret. To lose someone is hard to accept. But even with all the hurt I’ve felt, to let go and move on is the hardest yet. I feel like I could disappear.