#someone i used to know kept me on lock about riley for literal years so this time it's my sacred duty to be annoying online about him

[kagooleo]

RILEYYYYYYYYYY RILEY IS SO GOOD!

Also I found one of your tags and I can confirm that he is definitely Not British voice-wise! (Episode 110 of the DP anime dub/sub if you're looking for it)

Love your work ❤️❤️❤️

yeah!!!! thank you!!!!! he's amazing!!!!!!!!!! the life changing gender awakening character to me as a kid

I actually have the anime episodes downloaded (both subbed and dubbed by totally legal means ahah) and yeah he's not pompous brit sounding bgdhfvh, I'm moreso wondering if they'll pick someone different voice wise for him in masters :0c

as of now they haven't revealed how he sounds in the gacha yet but i'm crossing my fingers he has someone like. along the lines of greg chun or similar in terms of deep but soft spoken voice

[abarbaricyalp]

Quiet Birds Circling in Flight

am i reposting my favorites from the prompt meme from last night just by themselves? maybe

AO3 link in the reblog

Touch 47: Touching their elbow to get their attention

Sam stood outside the cenotaph long after everyone else had left the service. And that was quite the feat in and of itself. It felt like the mourning could go on for years. There’d been enough tears around him that he wasn’t sure what his own would add to the spectacle.

To everyone else, the cenotaph was a mausoleum. But Sam had been next to Bucky when he told the military to quietly bury him in the cemetery where his parents were both buried.

“You know,” Bucky had said one afternoon while they watched the cenotaph being built stone by stone, engraving by engraving, “I’d wager that most mausoleums are just cenotaphs. Grave robbing and reactions to grave robbing mean probably everyone just got moved somewhere safer.”

“Plus decomposition.”

“Well, shit, Wilson. When do you stop being you after death? When does dirt become dirt again? When isn’t it your resting place? Does it even matter where your body is when alls said and done? Is that ever actually you or just a space filler?”

Sam had elbowed Bucky’s ribs and they’d each taken a piece of stone and pretended they didn’t see.

Sam weighed the shield against his shin, knocking it slightly to the side, and then looked up at the stone one ten more feet above his head.

Steve would hate this so much. Sam felt like he could feel his raging blush from the after life. Sam and Bucky had both asked for something more muted, something quieter. Hell, something that would do good for the world Steve was always trying to save. All this money and work and art, for what? A place to take pictures for likes on the internet?

No, Sam had to remind himself, it was a place for memory too.

As much as Sam kind of hated the whole thing, he couldn’t deny that looking up at the effigy of his friend inspired him the same way glancing over at him had in life too. The words wrapping around and around the base of the cenotaph sparked the same intense pride and righteousness they had the first time he heard them.

Maybe he didn’t hate the cenotaph. Maybe he just wanted the real thing back.

He startled at a gentle touch at his elbow. He thought it might’ve been another mourner come to offer condolences, though those mostly went to Bucky when someone was brave enough to approach him. Most people hadn’t looked at Sam twice. Not when Captain America was, in theory, laying in rest thirty feet beyond.

Sam was not in the mood to listen to anyone else talk about the time Steve smiled at them in a cafe or grabbed their cat out of a tree. If he heard his name again, he was going to break down.

But he had the shield now. He had to do the things Steve did. Smile when he didn’t want to. Hide any sign of weakness, lest it reflect poorly on the red, white, and blue he carried now. So he ground his teeth together until his gums ached and turned with a screwed on smile.

But it wasn’t a mourner. Not a random one anyway.

Bucky still had his fingers on Sam’s elbow, a sad look on his face. Dawn was creeping over the horizon and Sam realized with a start and a bloom of despair in his stomach that he’d spent the entire night in the park.

“Think if we wait two more days he’ll shove that stupid stone shield out of the way and come out?” Sam asked, voice wavering like a flag in the wind.

“We would literally never hear the end of it if he did,” Bucky pointed out.

Neither of them smiled. Neither of them really meant their jokes.

Sam finally broke down.

He collapsed against Bucky’s chest. It wasn’t until he lost his breath in the middle of a sob that he realized he wasn’t the only one shaking. Bucky was crying too. They clutched at each other, both terrified they might drift away, that the other might decide this was too difficult too and go back to something better at the first opportunity.

Sam didn’t even blame Steve. He’d laid awake in the temporary accommodation the government had put him up in and tried to convince himself that if he was in Steve’s shoes, he wouldn’t have saved Riley and stayed in that timeline. But he couldn’t. He knew he would have, almost certainly. And it wasn’t fair to ask Steve to give up a happy, quiet ending after more than a century of fighting and hurting.

But understanding it and accepting it didn’t make it hurt any less. “What are we supposed to do, Bucky?” he asked with an irritatingly genuine hiccup at the end of his words.

“I don’t know,” Bucky said, sounding for all the world like he was grinding his teeth together, trying to pull himself back together. “You have a lot more options than me.”

And it was true. Sam had had a job. The Air Force had reached out since he’d been back stateside. He had a family who missed him, who he missed. But it felt like something heavy and tethering had been locked away in that empty cenotaph. He didn’t want to walk away yet.

Bucky stepped back, kept a hand on Sam’s elbow. “For now, we should get back home. You need to sleep.”

Sam didn’t want to sleep. Everything hurt too much.

“Sam, come on,” Bucky insisted. “You don’t have to make any decisions right now.We could both use a few hours of being quiet, right?

Sam reached up to wipe the tears from his face. He had the shield. He had to act like it. “My place or yours?” he asked, still watery.

Bucky pretended like he didn’t notice. “Yours is nicer than mine.”

“And I have a bed.”

“I have a bed.”

“It’s unassembled in a box.”

Bucky squeezed his elbow and then tugged him into a brief hug that Sam was pretty sure they’d never speak of again. “Let’s get out of here. He’s not goin’ nowhere.”

Sam rubbed at his face again and nodded. “We– We should order in. When’s the last time you ate?” he asked as they walked away.

“I had a better breakfast than you.”

“You didn’t have to give a speech.”

“Yeah, I’m surprised you didn’t throw up in front of everyone.”

“Shut up, I’m a great public speaker.”

“Sure, Wilson.”

“Screw you, Barnes.”

The dawn bloomed before them.

Do not stand

By my grave, and weep.

I am not there,

I do not sleep—

I am the thousand winds that blow

I am the diamond glints in snow

I am the sunlight on ripened grain,

I am the gentle, autumn rain.

As you awake with morning’s hush,

I am the swift, up-flinging rush

Of quiet birds in circling flight,

I am the day transcending night.

Do not stand

By my grave, and cry—

I am not there,

I did not die.

[avengerscompound]

The Tower: The Queen of Asgard, 3

The Tower: The Queen of Asgard An Avengers Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Pairing:  Avengers x OFC, Bruce Banner x Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Wanda Maximoff x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Tony Stark x Thor x Sam Wilson x OFC (Elly Cooper)

Word Count: 1861

Warnings: None this chapter

Synopsis: The twins are now three and while the Avengers know that Clint and Thor are the biological father’s none of them know or care which blond, blue-eyed baby is related to which man.  When Riley gets the power to control wind and it becomes evident that she is the heir to the Asgardian throne, Elly, Steve, Thor, and Tony take the twins to Asgard to train her.

Not every Asgardian is happy with their king’s choice of consort, nor the impurity of the heir’s blood.  While others expect Thor to make things more official.  What’s clear is, the role of Queen of Asgard is not easily filled.

Author’s Note: Written with my very own Clint Barton @fanficwriter013​

Chapter 3 - The Hair Cut

That night we all gathered together for a family meal.  Wanda and I had cooked.  She took the lead so there were a lot of Sokovian and Romany dishes, as well as some very American sides like Mac and Cheese just in case the kids were being fussy.

Thor sat with Riley in his lap as Steve put Pietro in his highchair.  “This is Riley’s highchair,”  Steve said indicating to the other chair.  “If you don’t want her wiping her sticky fingers on you while you eat.”

“Am I not meant to be a napkin?”  Thor joked.

Steve chuckled.  “You can be if you like.  But there are other options.”

“I’m sure she will love using you as a napkin.”  I teased.

“I would assume so,”  Thor said as Riley buried her face into his neck and started kicking her legs.

Wanda and I put a variety of foods into the kid’s bowls and then sat and began helping ourselves.

“Now, Natasha,”  I said when everyone had started eating.  “There’s something you need to come to terms with.”

“What’d I do?”  She asked.

“Well, see... here's the thing,”  I said, putting my fork down and looking at her.  “Out here at the compound, we can go outside with the kids and play or do whatever and we're left alone because the worst case it’s just agents around, but generally the house is isolated.  If we go back to the tower, the only way the kids can get to play outside is to go to the park, which means…”

“No,”  Nat said, firmly.  “Nope.  No.  Nuh-uh.”

“They have to be able to go outside and play, Nat,”  Sam said.

“No.”  She repeated, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Nat, they have to.  Taking out the psychological need children have to do that.  They need vitamin d to live.”  I said.

“They can play on the roof,”  Natasha said.  “You said you could make a garden for them to play in, right, Tony?”

“Yeah.  I can do that, but Nat, you can’t …”  Tony started.

“Three years!”  Natasha almost shouted.  “I have saved them from those monsters for three years!”

“I know you have, Natasha,”  I said.  “You've done a great job.  But every year you do it their world becomes smaller.  They can't just exist in a bubble where there are no other parts of the world.  They should be able to go to the beach or Disney or the park with their dog.  The longer we keep them from that the less chance they have of actually being normal kids who can interact with society.  They will grow to resent us for what we kept from them.  I know it sucks... but we have to figure out a way we can navigate in the actual world that negates the damage.”

Natasha scowled and muttered something in Russian as Clint rubbed her back.  She let out a breath and gave a slight nod.  “They need to respect their boundaries, or so help me…”

“Luckily we have someone here who grew up with it and might have some ideas,”  Steve said.

“We could take out restraining orders.  Happy was always pretty good at keeping them out of shot of me.  I’ll talk to him.  Maybe they can have a team that just stays out of sight and sweeps around.”  Tony said.

“That’s a start,”  Steve said.  “We’ll work this out, Natasha, but El is right, as much as we want to protect them, they can’t live in a bubble.”

“I want to keep them in a bubble,”  Natasha muttered.  “I mean it though, I’ll kill them if they get too close to my babies.”

“Mama!”  Pietro scolded, scrunching up his nose.  “Don’t be naughty.”

Natasha laughed so hard she snorted.  “Sorry, bud.”

“Nat snorted.” I giggled.

“El, don’t make me get in trouble with my son again.”  She warned.

“What?  It was cute.”

She eyed me but didn’t say anything and I smirked at her as I took a mouthful of my food.

“I may require some assistance here,”  Thor said.

We all looked over to him to see Riley’s hand stuck to the side of his head.  She looked distressed as Thor held her hand in place so she didn’t yank his hair out.

“Oh, damn,”  Clint said getting up and coming over to him and slowly trying to get Riley’s hand free.  “Okay, get me the vinegar.”

I got up and rushed to the kitchen, bringing back apple cider vinegar.  “Okay, bug, don’t move,”  Clint said as he began to work the vinegar into Thor’s hair and untangle Riley’s hands from it.

“Daddy!”  Riley whined as she tugged on Thor’s hair.

“Jelly Bean, your hand is literally attached to someone else right now,”  Clint said.  “You know how you complain when daddy brushes your hair too hard and it rips the knots out?  That’s what you’re doing to Daddy Thor right now.”

“Sorry, daddy.”  She said, starting to cry.

“It’s okay, princess.  I’m not angry.”  Thor said.

“I stuck.”  She said, fat tears running down her cheeks.

“I know,”  Thor said.  “Daddy Clint is going to get you out.”

“You kids need to use your forks when you eat,”  Steve said.

“Yeah, that’s the difference between babies and big kids,”  Natasha added.

“‘M a big girl.”  Riley sobbed as Pietro picked up his fork and awkwardly started to shovel Mac and Cheese into his mouth, more spilling down his front than getting in his mouth.

Clint managed to work Riley’s hand free and she stopped crying and looked up at him  “Fank you, daddy.”  She said, opening and closing her hand.

“You're welcome, sweetheart,”  Clint said wiping her hands clean.  “Now we’re going to use our fork and after dinner, you and your brother are going to have a bath.”

“Baff!”  Riley said excitedly.

“No, Baff, daddy,”  Pietro whined.

“Thor, we’re going to need to put coconut oil in your hair to untangle it properly.   Maybe a hair mask.  I can help you with that after dinner if you like.”  Clint said.

“I would appreciate that,”  Thor said.

We all finished up eating and Wanda and Sam took the kids for their bath while Clint and I took Thor to fix his hair.

“Take a seat on the edge of the tub,”  Clint said.  “Gotta rinse it out first if I’m gonna try and save it.”

Thor took his shirt off and sat down on the rim of the tub.  Clint began to fiddle with the water and started to rinse Thor’s hair.  “El, can you pass me the wide-toothed comb.”

I handed it over and he carefully began to pick out the knots with it.  “This is going to be some feat.  I hope you’re feeling patient, Thor.”  Clint said.

“You could just shave it.”  I joked.

“Yeah, that would definitely be easier.”  Clint chuckled, as he very patiently worked on Clint’s hair.

“Perhaps that would be best,”  Thor said.  “She was very upset at being stuck.  I do not like that I upset her like that.”

“You’re sure?”  I asked.

“Yes.  I’m sure.”  Thor said.

“Oh, god,”  I said, going to grab the clippers.  “I can’t believe we’re about to shave off the mighty Thor’s beautiful tresses.”

Clint began prepping the clippers while I plugged them in.  “Why are you more upset than Thor?”

I shrugged.  “I’m a dramatic bitch?”

“Okay, well. Don't scream.”  Clint said.  He turned the clippers on and ran them through Thor’s hair.

“Oh my god,”  I said as I watched.  “Don’t make him bald.”

“Don't worry, it'll look good,”  Clint said as he worked.

I watched on as Thor’s hair got shorter and shorter, his blond locks collecting on the floor around him.  I swept up as Clint went and soon it began to look more like a hair cut.  Quite like Clint’s actually.  Short, back and sides, a little more length to the top.  Clint pulled back and looked over his work.  “It’s still gonna need a treatment.”  He said.

“Coconut oil?”  I asked.

Clint nodded and grabbed a brush to sweep away the stray strands and I got the coconut oil and began to work it into Thor’s hair and scalp.

Thor looked up at me and hummed.  “Thank you both.”

“You're welcome.  Sorry about ol' sticky hands.”  I said.

He put his hand on my hips and smiled softly.  “I was warned.”

“Well, this is extreme,”  I said.  “He’s done a good job though.  Steve might say you copied him.”

Thor chuckled.  “It was getting a bit much anyway.  With all my duties I barely had time to take care of it properly.”

“Really?”  I asked, spiking it up at the top.  “But don’t you have people for that.  You had all the braids and everything.”

“I know, but… I have been growing less comfortable with asking for that level of treatment.  I know my people don’t mind but I always feel more relaxed here, when I lack all the privileges that come with the crown.”

“You feel guilty don’t you?”  I asked.  “About not being able to be here?”

“Very much.”  He agreed.

“You’re doing your best.  You’re allowed to put them down when you’re here.”  I said.  “This isn’t ideal, I know.  It wasn’t planned either and you are the king whether that’s what you want or not.”

“They don't want to be put down,”  Thor said, sounding guilty.  “They climb me.”

“I know.  They are really, really excited to see you.  And you're very strong and they like that you just put up with it.”  I said, taking a seat beside him.  “But... being a parent is more than that.  What you're being is a fun uncle.  Which... is Loki's job I guess?  You can be firm with them about boundaries.  And you should be.  That's what being a parent is.”

“I miss them when I am away.  I want to make it count.”  He said, frowning.

“They love you.  We all do.”  I said, rubbing his thigh.  “Are you seeing anyone?  Else I mean.”

“I’m supposed to.”  He said.  “But no.  Nothing else feels right outside of this.”

I rubbed his leg.  “This will always be here.”

“You can probably rinse that out now,”  Clint said sweeping the last of the hair into the trash.

I grabbed the showerhead and rinsed the oil out of his hair.  When he was done I switched it off.  “You want to check the damage?”  Clint asked.

“Please.”  Thor agreed, getting up and looking in the mirror.  “It looks good.  You are good at this.”

Clint blushed a little.  “Thanks.”

Thor pulled Clint up against him.  “No, thank you.”

Clint grinned and leaned up and kissed Thor.  Thor pulled him closer and kissed him hungrily.  Clint hummed and submitted to him, almost melting in the larger man’s embrace.  Thor pulled back and looked down at Clint, he caressed his jaw gently.  “I have missed you, little bird.”

“I missed you too,”  Clint said.

“Shall we go find the others?  Have a little fun?”  Thor suggested.

I smiled and came over and kissed his shoulder.  “I think that’s a very good idea.”

// NEXT

[argylemnwrites]

It Couldn’t Wait Another Moment - Chapter 18

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Romance (Canon Divergent from Book 2, Chapter 15)

Word Count: ~5400

Rating: PG-13 (language)

Summary: Riley and Hana delve into the events of the preceding night. Drake takes care of some practical measures to allow him to move forward with his life.

Author’s Note: This series diverges from TRR canon, where instead of waiting to discuss his relationship with Riley until their last night in NYC, leaving her a note while Liam is proposing to her, Drake tackles this topic as soon as possible after Tariq makes his statement and Riley’s name is cleared. To catch up on this series, you can find the previous chapters in my masterlist (link is located in my bio).

Riley felt like her head couldn’t feel worse if it were literally ripped apart. She slowly opened her eyes, trying to get a sense of her bearings. She had to blink a few times to bring everything into focus, her contacts practically glued to her eyes. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw she was in her own apartment. She had no memory of leaving the nightclub.

Switching to Long Island Iced Teas had been a mistake. It always led to bad decisions for her. But it had been so nice to just feel happy and carefree again. The first few drinks of the night had gotten her there, and all she had wanted to do was prolong that feeling. But ever since Cordonia, all this pain and sadness that she’d worked so hard to keep locked away had just kept bubbling to the surface. She just hadn’t wanted to feel that way, and the alcohol had been a quick fix.

Sitting up slowly, gingerly, she glanced around the room. Her jacket was hanging over the chair at her desk, her cellphone and wallet placed on top of her laptop. She was in a pair of gym shorts and an old FDNY t-shirt, her clothes from last night folded up neatly on top of her dresser. Anderson was curled up in his spot on the armchair. It was not what she expected after a night where she got blackout drunk.

Spinning slightly, Riley felt her stomach bottom out when she saw another body in bed with her, but quickly let out a rough sigh when she realized it was Hana, not some random guy. The fact that she hadn’t brought someone home with her only lessened her feelings of shame slightly. Last night was still a series of bad decisions, even if she didn’t throw a bomb into her relationship on top of everything.

She tried to shift gently out of bed, wanting to go take out her contacts, brush her teeth, and find some Advil, but her movements woke up Anderson, who bounded off of the chair and over to her, prancing excitedly around her feet. The jangling of his tags woke Hana, who bolted up and over to Riley before she could even process that Hana had apparently borrowed a sweatshirt and cotton shorts from her.

“Riley, thank goodness you’re alright! How are you feeling?” she rambled, grabbing Riley’s shoulder gently.

“I feel like shit, Hana,” was all Riley could croak out before bolting past Hana into the bathroom, reaching the toilet just in time. Hana joined her a few seconds later, holding her hair back and rubbing circles between her shoulder blades. After the retching subsided, Hana spoke.

“Why don’t you brush your teeth and climb back into bed?”

Riley shook her head, “I need to take Anderson out and feed him.”

“Let me do that.”

“Hana, thank you, but don’t you have meetings or something? It’s my own fault I feel like this. Don’t worry about me.”

Hana shook her head slowly, “I already canceled my meetings. Come on, I’ll take care of Anderson, you take care of yourself. Then, we can talk.”

Sighing, Riley hefted herself off the floor as Hana left the bathroom. She could hear talking softly to Anderson as she started brushing her teeth, and then she heard the latch of the door. Alone, she took a shuddering breath as she tried not only to quell the still-present nausea, but also to get a grasp on the fact that Hana had been in her apartment. She didn’t know why it unsettled her so much. It’s not like Hana was rude or tactless - she was never going to comment on its size or condition. But it still felt mad weird.

Riley knew she likely owed Hana big time for getting her home last night. And now, she was here, taking care of her instead of going to the meetings she had set up. And she wanted to talk. Riley had no idea about what, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out that whatever it was, it was going to be uncomfortable. Lord only knew what she had done at the end of last night.

After taking out her contacts, washing her face, clipping back her hair, and throwing on a sweater and some jeans, Riley went to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. She down at her desk, taking little sips, seeing if she would be able to keep anything down, but after a few minutes, she was back crouching in front of her toilet. She heard the apartment door open while she was brushing her teeth. Apparently, Hana was back with Anderson.

When she came out of the bathroom, she couldn’t help but laugh at the sight in front of her. There was Hana, wearing some of Riley’s old workout gear and the high heels she’d worn out last night, dumping about five meals worth of kibble into Anderson’s bowl. Anderson was prancing and wiggling around, clearly excited about the jackpot of food he’d just received.

“Hana, that’s plenty for him,” said Riley as she sank to the floor next to the bathroom, too shaky to keep standing and too nauseous to move too far from the bathroom.

“Oh Riley, let’s get you back in bed,” said Hana, crossing the room, but Riley just shook her head.

“Trust me, I’m good right here.”

“Okay. I swung by that store beneath your building and picked you up some ginger peach juice,” she said, handing her a small juice container from a bag she’d left on the desk, “The ginger should help with the nausea and the sugars should help if you feel weak or unsteady.”

Riley gave her a small smile, accepting the juice. Hana glanced around the room, then sat on the floor opposite Riley, leaning back against the bed and facing her.

“How… how much do you remember about last night?” Hana asked, her voice small and timid.

“Uhh, I remember getting to Kismet; I remember tugging you onto the dance floor; and I remember having a few Long Islands. It’s pretty fuzzy after that.”

“Well, I think we should probably discuss some things from the latter half of the evening then,” she said primly, clasping her hands in her lap.

“Shit,” thought Riley, “what did I do?” She wracked her brain, trying to come up with anything that Hana would want to talk about. But try as she might, after a certain point, she only had very vague images.

“Hana, whatever I did or said or whatever, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t-”

“Riley, I don’t need you to apologize for anything. But we need to talk about what you told me.”

Again, Riley tried frantically to figure out what Hana was referring to, but she kept drawing a blank. After a few long seconds of silence, Hana finally spoke again.

“I need you to know that you aren’t alone. I don’t care if we’re in neighboring rooms at the Beaumont’s or if we’re half a world apart. Whenever you need me, I’m here for you.”

Riley took a sip of her juice, trying to figure out what the hell had happened at the end of the night. “I know, Hana.”

“Riley… the hour we spent on the floor in the hallway while you cried that no one cared about you would tend to indicate otherwise.”

“Wait, we did what?”

“You kept talking about how you were always going to be alone and everyone was always going to leave in the end.”

Riley felt so humiliated. She thought she’d kept those fears pretty buried, but apparently she just unloaded on Hana while drunk out of her mind, “It’s a foster kid thing, Hana. I know you guys care about me. Being alone for the first time in almost a year has just brought up some old feelings.”

“But you aren’t alone, Riley. Not in the ways that matter. Physically living alone doesn’t mean you’re truly alone. Trust me, I know the difference. And even if we aren’t right with you, you have to know that Maxwell and Drake and I will always be there for you. Liam too, even if his royal obligations might limit him somewhat. But you have to know that all you need to do is call us or send us a text, and we’ll be there for you, in whatever way you need. We love you, Riley.”

Riley let out a shuddering breath. “Hana, you have to understand that my life experiences make that hard to believe sometimes. I’ve spent a long time making sure I’m the ‘fun friend’ and not really trusting anyone to actually want to deal with the rest of my shit.”

“I can certainly understand that feeling,” said Hana, tilting her head slightly towards Riley, “but I’m working towards accepting unconditional love and friendship when it’s offered, to not doubt the good relationships in my life. And while I’m not looking to tell you what to do, I think letting all your pain and worry build up until you unleash it all while intoxicated might not be the best coping strategy.”

Riley nodded. Of course, Hana was right about this. She was fucking right about everything. “I just don’t know how to handle a relationship, Hana. I’ve always kept things casual before, and that meant things were fun and easy. But… I don’t know. I don’t know if I’m an idiot clinging to the small possibility that he’ll come back, or if I’m a fool for thinking I should just cut my losses when it’s obvious he’d rather be with Liam than with me.”

“You are neither a fool nor an idiot,” said Hana, reaching out and grabbing her hand.

“I just don’t know what to make of everything. And I just don’t know whether it’ll hurt more if I just call it all off now or I wait until this drags on until its inevitable end. I’ve never dealt with something like this before.” 

“I’m afraid I’m not a great wealth of romantic experience.”

Riley chuckled at that. “Maybe not, but I still trust your judgement.”

Hana took a few seconds to collect her thoughts. “Alright, I think making this decision on the basis of fear is not the right approach. It’s not going to bring you any sort of happiness or even a sense of resolution if you just try to avoid pain.”

“I just don’t want to feel like shit, Hana.”

“But you already do, don’t you?”

Riley dropped her head, “I just don’t know if I can handle him telling me that I don’t matter to him, not enough anyway.”

Hana let out a little humming noise, but didn’t say anything. When Riley looked up at her, it was clear she had something on the tip of her tongue.

“What is it?”

“It’s nothing. Like I said, I don’t have much romantic experience.”

“I want to hear what you have to say, Hana.”

Hana swallowed pointedly and took a deep breath before starting, “I think you are being too hard on Drake.”

Riley didn’t know what she was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t that. She sat there in stunned silence while Hana continued, “Look, I went and saw him the other day at the palace, and he was an absolute mess. He talked about how guilty he felt, and it was clear that he was devastated that you had to fly back alone. Plus, it’s not as if he stayed behind to just drink whiskey and goof off with Liam. He was trying to aid his friend through an incredibly stressful situation.”

“Hana, I get what you’re saying, but you weren’t here to see how much he was just itching to get back to Cordonia. It just seems like he impulsively followed me here, and now that the honeymoon phase is over, he’s just done with me. Or that he only wants me when it’s convenient for the rest of his life.”

“Riley, he uprooted his entire life for you, so you know that isn’t true.”

“And maybe now he sees that was a giant mistake.”

“Or maybe he’s trying to figure out where he fits into your life here, and it’s been hard for him.”

“Trust me, Hana. He never made any real effort to make a life here. He never tried to make any friends or even joined me when I went out with my friends or-”

“Did he refuse to meet your friends, or did you just vaguely invite him and hope that he’d read your mind?”

Riley mentally reeled at Hana’s statement. She’d never heard Hana interrupt anyone before, and here she was, somehow calling Riley out on things she should have no knowledge of and putting her on the defensive, “Why would you say that?”

“Because it’s been a very long time since I saw Drake say no when you asked him for anything.”

“I was trying to give him space.”

“Since when, Riley? Since you two became friends, you’ve been pushing him - to talk, to be social, to try new things. Why did that change when you two became a couple?”

“I don’t know. He’d already moved for me. I didn’t want to add any extra pressure.”

“But it sounds like you just dropped back into your old life. Meanwhile, he was probably floundering. He’s a creature of habit and his closest relationships are with people he’s known since childhood. It can be hard work to find new friends. He also had to look for a job on top of that, which is stressful in its own right.

“And look at the neighborhood where you live - can you imagine Drake ever wanting to live somewhere so crowded and noisy? Or even this apartment, Riley. I dug through your dresser and closet last night, looking for some clothing for us, and you have filled every square centimeter with your belongings. How was Drake supposed to feel at home when you didn’t even have a place for him to put his clothing?”

“What are you saying, that I didn’t want him here or that I didn’t treat him right?” Riley snapped, suddenly feeling very put on the spot.

“No, Riley. That’s not my goal here. I just think that you should not hold Drake to an impossible standard.”

“You think that me wanting him here with me is an impossible standard?” Riley sneered.

Hana just sighed, “Riley, I know you’re hurting, but I just want you to look at this objectively. Drake moved to a foreign country where he had no professional and exactly one personal connection. The life he was living was probably a pretty stressful one in a lot of aspects, and then his best friend in the world was under threat of assassination and his father died. Can you at least see how that might be a tough combination of circumstances for him to navigate?”

Riley knew Hana was right, but that didn’t make it hurt any less to hear out loud. She felt like a shitty girlfriend for not addressing Drake’s adjustment earlier. She’d been so focused on getting back into her New York life, she hadn’t really wanted to dwell on the ways Drake was struggling.

But that was her problem - she never wanted to deal with the unpleasant. Unpleasant meant pain and so her whole adult life, she’d just charged full steam ahead. But that’s apparently how you ended up blackout drunk crying in the hallway outside your apartment.

“I just wanted us to be happy.”

Hana nodded gently, “But pretending you’re happy isn’t the same as actually being happy. Look, Riley - you adapt so well to various situations. But Drake likes his routines a lot more, and he’s just not as flexible. And while I don’t have a lot of experience to draw from, I do know that part of being in a healthy relationship is allowing your strengths to help your partner in areas where he or she struggles.

“In some other languages, like Greek, Italian, or French, there are various words for ‘you’ and ‘your’ - a singular version and a plural version. I think you were so focused on enjoying being back in your life in New York,” she said, gesturing towards Riley, “that you never got a chance to create your life as a couple. One that works for both of you.”

Riley took in her words as she drank a little more of her juice. “Hana, I don’t understand how you can be so sheltered but still fucking know everything.”

Hana blushed and laughed, “Those who can, do. Those who can’t, teach.”

They sat there together on the floor in silence for a few moments. Eventually, Anderson came trotting over, clearly wanting some attention as he climbed onto Hana’s lap. Riley glanced at his bowl and saw that he’d devoured his generous meal. 

“Fingers crossed he doesn’t get sick from that feast,” Riley mused.

“Oh no! Did I feed him too much? Oh, I’m so sorry!”

Riley waved her hand and shook her head, “No worries, Hana. You’ve done plenty for me.”

“And I’ll keep doing so, Riley. You’re my best friend, and I can be here for you as long as you need. I am scheduled to my out tomorrow night, but I can certainly change my flight if you’d like me to stick around.”

“No, I’ll be okay. You should go home.”

“Are you sure, Riley?” Hana’s eyes were wide and full of concern.

“I’m sure, Hana. I can always call you if I want to talk, right?”

Hana smiled at her, “Of course you can.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Liam walked into the private dining room to grab a quick breakfast before heading down to make an appearance at the courthouse, but he was not alone. There was Drake, sitting in his usual seat, a mug of coffee and some eggs and bacon in front of him. He was staring at his phone with such intensity, it was almost comical.

“Something interesting there?” Liam asked as he poured himself some coffee from the carafe.

Drake jerked his head up, clearly surprised by Liam’s appearance, but gave him a small smile and said, “Not really, no. Just a text.”

“From Riley, I presume?”

Drake looked at Liam for a few seconds before he answered, “Yeah, but we don’t need to talk about her if you would rather… er, not.”

“That’s thoughtful of you,” said Liam, “but unnecessary. Unless it is a… er, private message, in which case I-”

“No!” said Drake, emphatically shaking his head, “She just asked if I’ll be in New York this weekend or if she should pick up some extra shifts.”

“What did you tell her?”

“I told her yes.”

“Okay… Drake, I’m not sure why this rather mundane sounding interaction has you so distracted.”

“It’s just… she just texted back ‘okay.’”

“And…?”

“And she doesn’t seem very happy about it. So now I wonder if she doesn’t… I just… How would you interpret this shit?” Drake said, rubbing his forehead.

“I am not comfortable answering that, my friend.”

“Right! Sorry, I should have never asked. I just don’t-”

“Drake, it’s not that” Liam said with a laugh, “It’s simply the fact that getting my opinion on anything to do with Riley Liu is a terrible idea. She rejected me and my way of doing things.”

Drake scrunched his eyes closed for a moment and let out a sigh, “I just don’t know what she wants.”

“I would trust your instincts, Drake. They seem to have served you well in the past when it came to her.”

“I know, I know. I already bought the tickets. I’m just doubting myself now.”

Liam let out a little sigh. As much as he liked having Drake around, he knew Drake was making the right choice for him. “When do you leave?”

“Tomorrow morning. I have to finish up at the house today.”

Liam nodded, “Alright, well I’ll see you off after breakfast tomorrow.”

Drake shook his head, “My flight takes off just after 5.”

“Alright, well drinks tonight then?”

“Yeah, okay. That sounds good.”

“Just swing by my office when you get back.”

“Actually, can we do my quarters? I was planning on packing them up tonight.”

Liam paused for a moment at that statement, a statement that made Drake’s leaving feel that much more real and permanent. “Of course, Drake. But don’t feel that you need to empty them completely if you run out of time. I’ll keep them for you at least through the wedding.”

Drake took a long sip of his coffee as he nodded, but when he put down his mug, he looked determined. “Look, maybe this isn’t my place to say, but I have to ask - are you sure you want to marry Madeleine?”

At Drake’s question, Liam let out a long sigh. No, he wasn’t sure at all. He’d gotten engaged to Madeleine as a last resort, and now it just kind of seemed inevitable. He had no reason not to marry her at this point.

Drake latched onto his sigh and long pause, clearly taking them as an opening, and continued to speak, “I mean, I don’t even see what she brings to the table if you’re gonna do the whole political marriage thing. Kiara is a better diplomat. Hana’s kinder and much more pleasant to be around. Hell, even Olivia at least actually likes you as a person. I’m just saying that it doesn’t even seem like she’s the best option from that standpoint.

“Father thought she brought the most to the table.”

“Oh,” Drake dropped his gaze to his plate at that, clearly not expecting him to bring up his late father, “So, are you marrying her to… uh, honor his memory?”

“I don’t know. Sometimes I feel like I should just fulfill one of his last wishes, and other times I just feel guilty because I don’t want to be anything like him. Do you ever… do you sometimes take a particular action or path just because you feel it’s what Jackson would have wanted.”

Drake nodded, “Yeah, but I think my situation is a little less…”

“Complicated?”

“I was going to say fucked up, but complicated works too.”

Liam laughed, “I suppose you’re right. Well, thank you, Drake, but I need to be going to the courthouse.”

“Ahh, shit. I didn’t mean to overstep, Liam.”

“You didn’t,” said Liam, shaking his head, “I am glad you were able to be candid with me. I’ll see you tonight, okay? We can try and put a dent in that whiskey stash of yours that you’re going to have to leave behind.”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll see you tonight, Liam.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Drake, you in here?”

Savannah’s voice rang out through the hallway. Drake left his old bedroom, boxes strewn across the floor and bed. Between yesterday and this morning, he’d made good progress. He’d cleaned out the kitchen, the living room, the den, and his bedroom. Bastien had promised to take care of his dad’s office and his parent’s bedroom, so that only left the bathroom and Savannah’s bedroom for her to handle.

“Hey, Savannah,” he said when he got to the living room, hugging her in greeting, “Thanks for coming out.”

“Yeah, no problem. Wow, you should have let me know you were going through the place. I could have helped you out,” she said as she took in the numerous boxes piled against the walls.

Drake shrugged, “I figured you were busy with Bartie. Where is he, by the way?”

“Bertrand has been wanting to spend some time with him one-on-one, so when you asked me if I could come out here the other night, I figured today would be a great opportunity.”

Drake nodded, “Well, give him a hug from Uncle Drake, okay?”

“Of course. So, why’d you need me out here. Are you looking to sell the house?”

“Not exactly.”

“Then why are you packing everything up?”

“Here,” he said, grabbing a packet of papers off the coffee table and handing it to her, “this is for you. And Bartie”

Savannah started glancing through the documents, her eyes growing wider by the second. “Drake, is this…”

“Yeah, it’s the deed to this house. It’s all in your name.”

“What the hell are you doing, Drake?”

“The house is yours.”

“But… why?”

“Because you need it more than I do.”

“Are you drunk or something? I have a home, you are the-”

“No, Savannah. You don’t have a home. Your name is not listed anywhere on the Beaumont’s property, and you don’t pay rent. You are a house guest.” Savannah opened her mouth to protest, but Drake kept going, “Now, I hope that everything works out the way to want it to with Bertrand, but in case something were to happen, you now have a place that’s just yours. Someplace you can bring Bartie.”

“Nothing is going to happen, Drake.”

“I hope you’re right. In that case, this house can just serve as an insurance policy. But if things don’t go according to plan, I want you to have someplace you can go. I don’t want to you feeling like you have to run away again.”

Savannah stared at him for a few moments, her brow furrowed, “You won’t bribe me into staying here. Did it ever occur to you that I could have moved in here when I was pregnant, but I chose not to? Did it ever occur to you that I want more than this?” she asked, gesturing around the room.

“Then sell it and move where you want to go. Just tell me where that is.”

“If this house comes with strings, then I don’t want it. You don’t get to put conditions on gifts, Drake.”

“And you don’t get to do whatever the hell you want without consequence. Do you know how bad it hurt me when you were just gone one day? How long I looked for you, how many assholes I called, hoping you were in touch with any of them?”

“I was scared! I was pregnant, and I didn’t know what to do, and I was so ashamed. How could I face you? How could I tell you I’d gotten knocked up by one of those nobles you hated oh so much?”

Drake swallowed, trying to break up the rough lump in his throat, “I’m sorry if I ever made you think that there was anything you could do that would make me care about you less, but you need to stop acting like you were the only victim there. You denied Bertrand a lot of important firsts. You denied Bartie the chance to know his father from the start. You put Maxwell in an awkward situation where he had to lie to a lot of people to cover for you. And you-” Drake cut himself off. He took a few deep breaths, trying to stop himself from crying, “and you left me all alone. After Mom left, I just.... You were my only real family left. And you were just able to take off.”

“Drake, I-”

“You hurt me, Savannah. And I know you were upset and afraid, but I was hurting, too. Because I always thought you would be the one woman who wouldn’t leave. But then you did. And now you’re back, and that’s great, but I just worry that something will happen. That you’ll run off again. All I wanted to do is give you a safe place to go. I just didn’t want to fail you again” he said, his voice cracking as a few tears trickled down his face.

“Drake, you never failed me. I just… I couldn’t face being here.”

“But you felt like you couldn’t come to me. You didn’t trust me, and that means I didn’t do my job.”

“Oh Drake, it’s never been your job to protect me from the world.”

“You’re my baby sister! Of course I’m supposed to protect you!”

“I’m a grown woman, Drake. I have been for a while. I made a choice, and maybe it was the wrong one, but I can’t undo it. But you need to know that my leaving was not about you. I missed you like crazy.”

Drake took a shaky breath and tried to collect himself, “I love you, Savannah. I really do. But if I’m signing up to have you just drop out of my life without any notice again, I don’t know if I can do it. I want us to be close again. I want to watch Bartie grow up. But I don’t know if I can handle losing you guys again. So, I think we should both promise that we’ll at least let the other know where we are, okay? No more falling off the face of the earth.”

Savannah nodded, “I can do that.” She wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug.

After they pulled apart, Drake pulled out his phone, “On that note, I am flying back to the States tomorrow morning. I’m gonna text you my flight info, alright?”

“Okay, Drake,” she said with an eye roll, “Your full itinerary is absolutely needed.”

“I just don’t want either of us to be lazy about this, okay? I’m serious, Sav. I can’t handle losing you like that again. I want to make this right.”

Savannah nodded, “I hear you, Drake. I do. I am sorry that I caused you so much pain. I hope you know that.”

Drake nodded tightly, “Thanks, Savannah.”

“No, thank you. You didn’t need to give me your half of the house.”

He just shrugged, “I kind of did. It’s time for me to move on with my life, you know? I can’t just keep bumming around with Liam indefinitely.”

Savannah gave him a couple of small nods. He knew she really didn’t get his desire to leave the king’s inner circle, but it was the truth. Even if Riley told him to go fuck off, it was time for him to do something different than crash at the palace and travel around with Liam. Liam had enough resiliency and support that he didn’t need Drake around anymore. And Drake trying to make a life for himself was about eight years overdue at this point.

“So, yeah,” he continued, “I didn’t touch your shit, obviously, but I took what I wanted. The rest of the boxes you can donate or go through or whatever you want. And Bastien’s gonna come here once the trials are over and take care of Mom and Dad’s stuff.

“Okay.”

“So here’s my copy of the keys. The house is now officially yours, Savannah Walker.”

She glanced around the room, “What a strange day,” she said with a laugh, “I’ve gotta let Bertrand know.”

She pulled out her phone to call Bertrand, so Drake took that as his cue to leave. He was just about to the front door when Savannah called out to him.

“Drake, these are your travel plans?”

“Yeah, they are.”

She walked over to him, a big smile shining on her face. “I’m proud of you. Tell her ‘hi’ for me.” 

“Will do. Now, take care of yourself and that little boy,” he said as he wrapped up in a gentle hug.

“I will, Drake. Travel safe.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Drake shifted in his seat. This flight had been worse than the one to Cordonia, because there he was exhausted enough that he just had passed out cold. Here, he was up for the entire thing, enduring every crying baby, every jolt of turbulence, and every time the woman in front of him reclined her seat straight into his knees. 

But thankfully, they were now in the final descent. Drake didn’t know what he would find at baggage claim. If she would be there or not. He’d sent the text last minute before hopping on the flight, so he didn’t know if she’d even seen it. The more he thought about it, the more his decision seemed like a terrible mistake.

He felt a jolt as the plane touched down on the runway, drawing him out of his own mind, it was too late for regrets now. As the plane taxied to its gate, one of the flight attendants came over the PA system.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the local time is 11:32 am and it is as sunny 67 degrees out. On behalf of the flight crew, let me thank you for flying with us today and welcome you to Austin, Texas.”

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The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir: @kingliam2019​   @sirbeepsalot​  @texaskitten30​   @princessleac1​  @ladyangel70​  @dcbbw​  @yaushie​ @octobereighth​

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[crescentmoonrider]

After the storm (don’t look back on the ghosts of sunken crew)

The bell rings, and Volkner opens his door to a ghost.

Riley was supposed to come back a few days ago. When he didn’t, when Volkner didn’t even get a call or an answer or anything to reassure him and the tv kept on going on and on about the typhoon in Hoenn, when the videos of disaster and chaos and wrecked ships among wrecked houses burned themselves in Volkner’s eyes to the point that seeing them could almost make him sick –

Volkner assumed Riley wasn’t coming back.

By the look on his face, so did Riley.

Standing in the entryway and staring at each other gets old fast, so Volkner simply steps aside and lets Riley in. No word was uttered after the tired « hey » of a man who should be dead that greeted Volkner barely a minute ago, and when the door closes, the silence becomes almost suffocating. Almost palpable. Weighty, like deep-sea water threatening to crush the both of them under its pressure.

Riley still hovers awkwardly in the hallway, like he hasn’t been here many times before and he still needs to wait for the host to lead the way. He really is too polite. Right now, it almost makes him feel like a stranger. Like he doesn’t belong here anymore. Like a ghost.

Volkner starts walking.

It’s a fine house he lives in. He got it with the job, and even if he mostly lives in only two of the rooms – three if he were to count the few times he gets tired of takeout and tries his hand at cooking, only to remember why he never does it in the first place – he can enjoy the place just fine. He found uses for the other rooms. The rest of Sunyshore would probably disagree with these uses, more likely to make their current gym leader live in a cupboard, rather than suffer from whatever plans and designs he’s been working on and pinning to the walls of his house, and the inevitable city-wide blackouts that will result from them.

It’s a fine house, and Volkner likes it even if it is too big for him.

It’s a fine house and the time it takes to reach the living room from the main door is unbearable right now. Living in a cupboard would be better than this. Than trying not to look back at Riley every step of the way and failing, because he shouldn’t be here at all and there’s nothing telling Volkner that Riley won’t disappear for good if no one watches him.

And at the back of Volkner’s mind are the old myths he heard someplace or other, whispering at every glance he spares Riley that this was the wrong choice and he will now pay the price. The way to the living room feels as long as the trek from the underworld to the world of the living.

Unbearable.

Riley finally reaches the couch and crashes in it, burying his head in a cushion and not bothering to lift his feet from the floor, in an undignified way that really goes to show how exhausted he is. Volkner has only seen him sprawled like this a handful of times, none of them so terribly crushing as today.

Volkner breathes out, the sound almost deafening in how out of place it feels. But silence is worse, much worse, and Volkner’s hand twitches restlessly. He needs to do something.

« Want any tea ? » he asks the amorphous body of Riley. A muffled sound emerges from the cushion, which Volkner takes as a yes.

He keeps the kitchen door open as he puts some water to boil, eyes constantly straying outside of the room, to the back of the couch. He can’t see Riley from here. Shaking his head, Volkner grabs a chair, reaches inside a cupboard – he is pretty sure the tea is in here, somewhere at the back, entirely forgotten since the last time Riley was here. Eventually, Volkner does find the pack, trapped behind a box of cookies he will have to throw away right now, before he forgets and they remain here for another few years and end up developing a life of their own.

The pack of tea is a pretty thing, originally a gift from one of Riley’s travels to Johto, back when he hadn’t yet figured out that he really is the only one of Volkner’s friends, of which Flint is the only other representative, to drink the thing. Volkner’s drink of choice is coffee – or, as Flint calls it, « vaguely brown milk » – while Flint mainly drinks what is commonly referred to by all who know him as « a crime ».

Volkner has never brewed tea in his life. He guesses Riley will just have to bear with leaf juice for now, until he feels good enough to move from the couch.

Nothing seems to have changed in the living room, at least going by what little Volkner can see from where he stands, so he takes some more time to grab his phone and ring up Flint, all the while trying to figure out how much of the tea powder he should put in the mug. Flint picks up, asks what’s up, and Volkner pauses.

Things he could say jump to his mind – « Riley is alive and on my couch and he looks like hell and you know I’m terrible at comforting people, please help », or « Riley is alive and here and I don’t know how to make his tea, please help », or even « Riley is alive and I thought he was dead and I don’t know if I’m glad or terrified and I need you to please come here and tell me I’m not hallucinating him. »

What he says instead is « Get one more pizza when you’re done at the League, mushroom and artichoke, no ham, » and when Flint asks who’s joining the Monthly Pizza Night, answers « A ghost, » and hangs up.

Finally deciding to do the clever thing and simply bring the pack of tea to the living room, and then just ask Riley how much of that thing is supposed to go in the mug, Volkner leaves the kitchen, walks around the couch, and stops.

Riley hasn’t moved since last time, but he’s been joined by Luxray, who sits on the floor with her head on Riley’s back, staring at Volkner like he is somehow responsible for her spot being taken. He puts the stuff on the table, scratches Luxray’s ears in an effort to appease her.

Lucario isn’t here, he realizes. Usually, Riley would let him out of the Ball the second he leaves Salamence’s back. « You wouldn’t leave Flint locked up somewhere while you’re out having fun, would you ? » he’d said one time Volkner asked him about it. Of course, since Flint had been in the room then, Volkner had answered something around the lines of « Sounds like some fucking holidays if you ask me, » and had laughed at Flint’s spluttering outrage.

He got it, though. Still gets it – he knows himself well enough to be absolutely certain that he wouldn’t be able to live without Flint watching out for him like the good big brother he always denied playing at.

Riley hasn’t let Lucario out in the time he’s been here – how long has it already been, it felt like an eternity but surely that can’t be it – and somehow that’s the thing that makes Volkner sit on the floor, next to the couch, and put his hand on Riley’s head.

« Do you want to talk about it ? »

It’s a question Volkner hates. It’s been asked to him about a million times, whenever the boredom and the blackouts and everything else come up in a conversation with anyone who isn’t Flint or Riley. Thing is, there’s never anything to talk about, in his case. That’s kind of the issue. The nothingness.

Riley literally stood in the middle of a storm. It must have felt – Volkner has no idea how it could have felt. He thinks that unknown is the real ghost here. The thing that needs to be exorcised.

Volkner’s hand keeps on petting Riley’s hair even as his head turns just enough to get his face out of the cushion. They don’t look at each other. Volkner doesn’t think he could bear it, the moment already almost too intimate as is.

Talking isn’t really Volkner’s thing. But he only needs to listen, and to keep his hand combing through Riley’s hair.

« I killed someone, Volk’. » Riley’s voice is awfully low, with a distinct trembling, like it is being crushed by all the weight of the words, dragged against the ocean floor like a pebble. Volkner can’t say he was expecting this start, but he waits for whatever is going to come out next. His hand doesn’t stop.

« It was – I – I was waiting for my ship, and this man was just. He was going around, asking for a spare ticket. He – he wanted to see his family in Canalave. He wanted to see his family, » Riley whispers this last part. Pauses. Inhales, then « I gave him my ticket. Thought I could always buy another, that it wouldn’t be too bad if I was a day late. I wasn’t feeling all that good, anyway. Should’ve known – I should’ve – the earth started shaking first and it was. The air was so dry. Then it wasn’t anymore and the waves looked like buildings and it was chaos and they said the ship drowned and I – I – I should’ve been in it, Volkner. It should’ve been me in that ship. I killed that man. I should’ve – »

Riley doesn’t finish this last sentence, but they both know what he was going to say. That’s the biggest problem with Riley, Volkner knows. His kindness knows no bounds, at the cost of erasing his own self. Riley is kind, but never to himself. Maybe that’s why they fit so well together, the two of them. One is too kind, the other too selfish. They complement each other.

Volkner doesn’t really see a way to comfort Riley, not when this whole thing – the typhoon, the drowned ship, the dead man – is almost too big for him to really grasp at all. So he does what he knows best, and speaks for himself.

« Y’know, even if it’s tragic for this guy and his family and all… I’m really glad you didn’t get in that ship. Would’ve missed you, I think. Flint sure as hell would’ve. » A pause, then « It’s good to see you alive, Rye’. »

It’s good to have you back, with me, he doesn’t say, the words too heavy for him.

His hand is still petting Riley’s hair, and that’s how he notices the shaking at first. Just a slight tremor, that grows in intensity until it devolves into full-blown sobbing, then crying, as Riley reaches out with an arm and grabs Volkner around the shoulder. It’s an awkward position for a hug, or for anything at all really, but it’s fine. Riley is fine. They’re fine.

They cry into each other’s shoulders until Riley falls asleep.

When Flint arrives with the pizza, Volkner vehemently denies the possible redness of his eyes, instead playing up Flint’s fear of ghosts and the mystery guest until he gets a kick in the shins. Riley is gently woken up, and Luxray climbs up the couch the second she sees an opportunity. Volkner sits on Riley’s other side, while Flint monopolizes the armchair and shares whatever dumb things happened in the League while Riley was away, moving on to childhood stories when he runs out, that Volkner insists are inaccurate and shouldn’t be believed, except for the one where Flint was almost kidnapped by a Drifloon while Volkner complained because he too wanted a turn at the cool balloon and didn’t understand why Flint was crying.

Flint doesn’t ask Riley about Hoenn, not on that day.

The tv remains resolutely turned off.

Riley falls asleep on Volkner’s shoulder once again, and Volkner lets him.

It’s fine, for now.

[msjr0119]

Hold On

Part 20- I can’t lose you

Nobody got injured at the Homecoming ball, they all get separated into different safe houses- for safety.

Riley and Drake had confirmed that they had feelings for each other, however Drake believed Riley should be with Liam. Heartbroken, she moves back to New York. Only keeping in touch with Hana, Maxwell and Olivia.

Riley meets lawyer, Nate Cooper and begins a relationship with him. In Cordonia, Drake begins to court Kiara.

Nine months after Riley had left Cordonia- there is a reunion, but not the reunion the friends had hoped for.

*Characters belong to Pixelberry*

If you are under 18 please do not read this series. If you do you are consenting that you are over the age.

Series warnings: Suicide, domestic abuse, swearing, stabbing, smut 🍋. If any of these triggers affect you do not read!

Tags- @annekebbphotography @burnsoslow @drakesensworld @ladyangel70 @butindeed @bbrandy2002 @bascmve01 @drakewalker04 @pedudley @captain-kingliamsqueen @kingliam2019 @duchessemersynwalker @insideamirage @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @kozabaji @texaskitten30 @ibldw-main @kimmiedoo5 @nikkis1983 @dangerouseggseagleartisan @gnatbrain @walker7519 @lodberg @cmestrella @choices97 @hopefulmoonobject @addictedtodrakefanfic @angi15h @liamxs-world

******

Kiara didn’t know how to react, she didn’t need a man- she was the heir to her estate, she was intelligent, why was she obsessed with Drake? When she was younger she always fantasied about being with the muscly commoner. Everyone looked down their noses at the Walker’s after Jackson tragically passed away. But not Kiara. She stayed civil with everyone, she taught Savannah Walker french before she abruptly left. Doing this, she had hoped it would bring her and Drake closer.

Kiara’s daydream was shortly interrupted, her head turned towards the wooden door swiftly like a meerkat. Drake’s body froze, his hand remained on the door knob. The vein in her neck became distended- she definitely didn’t trust the two of them now.

“WALKER! SIT DOWN!”

“Kiara, you have a problem with me not Drake. You and I can sort this. Just let him go. When the atmosphere is better, you two can sort this out. I’m sure he will forgive you. Right Drake?”

“Have you lost your brain cells Brooks? No chance in hell am I forgiving her!”

Riley grabbed Kiara’s hand, holding it tightly. Her baby blues, fixated on the insecure woman stood in front of her.

“Kiara, he doesn’t mean it he’s angry. You’re angry. Just both calm down. We can get through this.”

“We? Because you’re always involved aren’t you Riley.”

“I- I meant you two can sort it out. I promise you Ki, that I won’t tell anyone. I’ll just say to Liam that I was tired so I went straight to bed. It’s the first time I’ve drank alcohol in weeks- it’s a reliable story. Please. What else can I do to persuade you?”

“You should have never come back! You don’t belong here.”

Riley hated how everyone treat her using her commoner status. Everyone is equal she believed. No matter what status they had.

“Maybe I don’t belong here, maybe it was fate that I’m here. But between you and Madeleine, you two belong elsewhere too! You both need your heads looking at!”

“Brooks! Keep that big American mouth of yours shut!”

“Fuck you Walker! We wouldn’t be in this situation if you kept your dick in your pants and respected women!”

Kiara couldn’t cope with the two of them arguing. She had paranoid thoughts that this would bring them closer- Riley was sticking up for her. Was this a ploy to escape? Kiara didn’t care. She dragged Drake to the floor.

“Do you love me Drake?”

“No!”

“Do you love her?”

“I did!”

“If Liam wasn’t around, would you jump straight back into her arms?”

“I- I.. Kiara this ends now! Just let her go back to Liam. Please.”

“Don’t avoid the question!”

“Yes, I probably would! Happy now?”

“Wrong answer!”

Kiara turned to Riley, pushing her against the wall. Her eyes narrowed, as she put her hands around the American’s neck. Riley was furious with Drake. Why couldn’t he just lie?

“Lady Riley. Now it’s your turn... if Liam wasn’t around would you jump back into Drake’s arms?”

“No.....”

“You’ve done it before. So why not now?”

“Kiara you’re hurting me.... please .... just please.... believe me. Drake is my friend.... if you hurt us....”

“Oh if I hurt you, you think your King will save you both? No chance, Riley! Whilst you’re still here Drake is still going to want you.”

“Kiara.... I ... I can’t breath!”

“Kiara let her go!”

“SIT WALKER! IM NOT DONE WITH HER YET!”

“Ki... I love Liam.... please.... “

Kiara removed herself from Riley, creating little distance- pulling the knife out of her bra. She glided the knife across Riley’s neck. The cold blade, caused shock through Riley’s body.

“Riley you know I can’t let you stay. You say you love Liam. But here in Cordonia we have arrangements within marriage.”

“I’m... I’m... not like... that. I’d have done... it when... he was engaged to her....”

“Riley. Pick! You or him?”

“Me....Do what you want to me....”

“No Riley! Are you fucking crazy? You have a good future ahead of you. Kiara if you are going to hurt anyone it’s going to be me.”

“Aw Ri, he’s still playing hero for you.”

Riley felt the tip of the blade now against her abdomen. Closing her eyes, it felt like time had frozen. All she could think about was Liam, and the time during the social season.

I’m glad to have met you, Riley. I’ll never forget this night.

Riley... I never thought I’d see you again.

If I’m being honest, I was just thinking about you.

You look so beautiful in the firelight. Riley, I’ve never really had someone that I wanted to please so badly. I feel like I’d do anything to see you smile and know that I was the cause.

It is said that if two lovers climb to the top of the waterfall and jump in together, they’ll get the blessing of the lady of the waterfall.

You are entitled to a kiss, my Queen.

I’m always happy when I’m with you Lady Riley. I’ve been trying to imagine what type of Queen you would be if we were to be wed.

What I really want is to have a family. Maybe not this year or the next but eventually..... the most precious thing anyone has is time. You never know just how much you have left. And when it’s gone.. it’s gone.

The last memory hit Riley, she needed to fight. She needed to get to Liam- to tell him how much he meant to her, and that she regretted every moment she had lost with him in the past. Feeling Kiara turn and twist the tip of the knife against her abdomen, she knew somehow she had to knock the knife out of her hand. As she opened her eyes, her vision went into slow motion as she saw Drake sprint into Kiara, tackling her to the floor. The knife fell a distance, out of everyone’s reach.

“Kiara, ENOUGH! This has to end NOW!”

Anger in his voice, that Riley had never witnessed before apart from in Applewood. He had risked his life again for her. Riley looked sadly at Drake who had stopped restraining a now unconscious Kiara on the floor.

“Brooks! Get out now!”

“I- I can’t leave you...I can’t even find the key!”

Drake stood up leaving Kiara on the floor, frantically both of them began looking for a key. Riley removed a hair grip out of her messed up hair, hoping that it would unlock the door.

“It’s not working! The window! We have to jump!”

Riley grabbed Drake’s hand, leading him to the window. She would rather have broken limbs than be butchered to death.

“She’s locked it! Pass me your bottle of whiskey! We have to smash the window!”

“Are you crazy?”

“Drake, I will personally buy you whiskey for the rest of your lifetime. Please... it’s our only way out!”

Drake hesitantly handed the bottle over. Both of them taking a swig from the bottle before attempting to smash the window- glass from the brown bottle shattered. Riley stared in the windows reflection, feeling defeated that the window itself didn’t smash. Of course she was in a palace, the windows were probably bulletproof. In disbelief, she saw Kiara rise from the floor, pointing the knife towards them- her eyes widened as she predicted what was going to happen.

“DRAKE! MOVE!”

In slow motion, Riley felt the heavy weight lean into her body. Losing her balance, they both fell to the floor.

“I’m so sorry Drake. I loved you.”

“Love? Are you fucking serious Kiara? You’ve just literally stabbed him in the back!”

Riley slowly stood up, trembling- her hands now painted red with Drake’s blood. Adrenaline now taking over she ran over to Kiara, with a shard of glass from the whiskey bottle. Threatening the noble lady.

“Kiara, I swear to god- give me the key! He needs medical assistance!”

Kiara stood, smirking at Riley. No other expression was shown.

“You have five minutes to save him, Lady Riley.”

Riley looked confused as Kiara entered the bathroom, running the bath. She ran over to Drake, knowing she had to find the stab wound and prevent anymore bleeding. Raiding through his wardrobe, she could only find his usual white shirts and denim jackets- it’ll have to do.

Riley placed pressure on the wound and cradled Drake in her arms, hoping her friend would pull through. She wondered where the others were, as far as she was concerned she had been gone too long.

“Drake, why do you always have to act like the hero? Come on. You can’t die on me. You’ve already dodged a bullet. What’s next eh?”

“Br-Brooks....”

“Drake? Come on! Open those brown eyes wider! We have five minutes to get out.”

“Say... goodbye... to everyone. I love Liam... Max... Savannah.. Bartie... Hana... and you.”

“We love you too! You are not leaving us! I’m in love with Liam but I love ya, I always will...you’re my best friend. Don’t tell Hana or Max though.”

Before Drake could respond, he saw Riley’s sad facial expression turn to into grimace. A tear fell from her face effortlessly, before her face head butt his shoulder. Her hair whipped onto his face leaving a lingering sting.

“Goodbye you two...” - Kiara snarled as she removed the whiskey bottle glass shard out of Riley’s back. Blood began pouring like a waterfall- it was never ending.

****

The men raced up to Drake’s room, they had hoped that the door was open. The guards entered with armed weapons, searching the room for Kiara. Bastien swallowed hard as he entered. Shaking, he picked up his phone demanding for medical assistance immediately and commanded that the palace was searched for Kiara.

Liam attempted to barge through the crowd. Bastien heard the commotion, he stood in front of Liam, placing his hands on the Kings shoulders.

“Sir, please. It’s not a nice sight.”

“Bastien I don’t care! Let me in!”

Liam’s heart felt as if it had stopped. He ran over to Riley, scooping her up in his arms, whilst Leo tried to help Drake.

“Ri, please don’t leave me. I can’t lose you.”

Liam remained cradling Riley in his arms. He felt as if his whole world had collapsed- he didn’t know how many more tears his body could produce. The paramedics arrived and immediately began to save their saves- they were both given oxygen. Leo hugged his brother as the two victims were escorted out of the room.

******

“Riley Brooks, aged 25. Stab wound in the lumbar region. She still has a pulse, but it’s weak. The bleeding is being controlled every so often, she needs immediate surgery.”

“Drake Walker, aged 28. He also had a stab wound to the back. His pulse is also weak. The bleeding is now controlled. But he needs to be seen urgently.”

The guests all waited all the bottom of the stairs. They heard the paramedic on the phone to ER. Madeline wasn’t lying. Their friends were fighting for their lives. Reality hit when they saw Riley and Drake’s bodies on stretchers, being escorted outside to the ambulances.

The friends all witnessed Liam barely holding it together. No wonder. Olivia walked over to him, placing a comforting hand on his arm.

“Li, they are both alive. They are both fighters. They will survive this and fight.”

Liam tried to compose himself, as he had an audience gawping at the scene.

“Liv... I can’t lose either of them. I’ll keep you all updated. Can you keep me updated on Kiara’s whereabouts? One thing I’m sure about- if they both die, Kiara’s a dead woman!”

[wilhelmjfink]

The Great Divide - Chapter 1

Summary: As bitter as she was, all Riley Herrington ever wanted to do was help. She’d always figured it stemmed from some innate desire to prevent people from feeling the same way toward the world that she did. And, as Daryl had told her a hundred times, people are not to be trusted and one day she’d run into the wrong person and learn pretty quickly that her confidence in strangers would get her into a lot of trouble. They both knew he was right. He was just trying to teach her before it was too late for her to learn.

Warnings: swearing and violence. don’t be a little bitch.

A/N: omfgg it’s here!!!!! i know that literally nobody is excited about this BUT I AM AND THATS ALL THAT MATTERS SO THANKS FOR COMING EVERYONE!! this is my very first series and features my very first OC and thank you to @crossbowking for always being my #1 fan and editor and hypegirl and inspo and i love you!!! BONUS POINTS TO WHOEVER CAN FIGURE OUT WHAT VIDEO GAME IT’S BASED OFF OF AND WHAT SONG IT’S TITLED AFTER (hint it’s literally in this first chapter)

i don’t own anything except Riley so don’t sue me. also we’ve already established how bad i am at like past and present tense and all that jazz?? i was in honors college shame on me (I dropped out)

enjoy xoxo

Next Chapter

“Never should’a went after that woman.”

Daryl used the heel of his boot to jam the shovel further into the dirt before hoisting loose a pile up and over his shoulder. Digging graves always seemed to put him in a poor mood. Understandably.

So Riley observed him quietly, standing knee deep in her own trench, pondering a response to his blunt statement.

Eventually, she muddled out the only excuse she could ever muster up: “I was just trying to help...”

This time, though, Daryl wouldn’t accept it and tossed his shovel down carelessly onto the ground at his feet before tearing off his gloves and wiping the sweat from his forehead. The heat made him cranky too, she thought. Not a great combination of things.

“That’s all yer ever tryin’ to do, Ri! Don’t ya get it? People ain’t to be trusted. People will kill you. Hell, they’ll do worse things than kill ya, and make ya wish you was dead anyway!”

She flinched visibly at his outburst, taking the brunt of it knowing it was well deserved. But, still... her intentions has been good. Wasn’t there something to be said for that?

Daryl continued. “I know yer smart girl, but god damn if ya don’t act right stupid sometimes.”

Narrowing her eyes, she jabbed her own shovel into the soft ground beside her and leaned onto it. “I’m not stupid, Daryl.”

“Didn’t say ya were stupid, just said ya act like it sometimes.”

She huffed, rolling her eyes away from him and, once again, found herself reflecting on his words. He was absolutely right — that hadn’t been the first time that she’d tried to help someone only to be burned by them in the end, and it definitely wasn’t the first time that Daryl had managed to swoop in at the right time and save her ass. He always had a way of doing that. He continually, purposefully it seemed, made a point to warn her about something before appearing out of thin air to save her from that exact scenario, if only to say “I told you so.”

But nobody had been there for her back when it all began and she was hungry and lost and tired and injured. Nobody trusted her, not that she’d found many others — and the few she did run across mot only neglected to help her, they often left her in worse condition than she’d been before they’d crossed paths. It was not until she’d found Maggie and her family, all of which were more than willing to help her, and all of which were undoubtedly the reason that she was still alive.

Not to mention, all of them the reason that she’d met Daryl in the first place.

Finally, picking her next words carefully, she sighed. “Look, I.... I know. But I just.... I really want to believe that there are still good people left in the world. That’s what kept me alive, after all this started.”

It was blunt, and it was true. And then it was Daryl’s turn to soften, knowing that if he did what came instinctively and became even angrier with her it would end in a shouting match that he couldn’t stand, especially when it all initiated because he knew he’d hurt her feelings. “I know ya do, Ri. There are good people out there still — you’re one of ‘em. But ya can’t find em because bein’ good is dangerous. It’s what gets ya killed, Riley. And I ain’t gonna let you get killed by some crazy lady you offered to help ‘cause she said asked nicely n’ said ‘please’ or somethin’.”

Riley, despite herself couldn’t help but smile. He couldn’t stay mad at her — there would never be an apology, but always some off handed comment or joke. Though, the same went for her, so she couldn’t boast. Regardless, he had a valid point... as he usually did. Daryl was smart, much smarter than she would ever be.

He was a survivor, and she needed to heed his advice, because sooner or later it would be the end of her.

“Yeah, yeah. You wanna hear me say it? Okay, here it is: you are right, Daryl Dixon.” And you always are.”

Riley Herrington had a mental list that she always double and triple checked before she left for a run: first her machete at her side, and then her backpack that held a canteen full of water along with a few stale protein bars, a standard first aid kit with bandages, bands for tourniquets, alcohol and sutures and more, some extra ammunition for her .22 that she always kept holstered at her side, but most importantly, the Polaroid of her and Daryl Dixon that she’d forced him to take back when they’d taken shelter in a derelict prison. He despised it and it was so blurry it was nearly impossible to see it was him, but she knew it was, and that’s what mattered to her.

Once she was sure it was all in line she securely strapped the black bag to her back and sighed, peering over the walls at the sun that was slowing making its way over the horizon. If you’d asked her five years ago if she thought she’d be ever be an early morning person, she would’ve laughed. But now, it was the only way to safely and efficiently get anything done — it seemed to be the most quiet and still part of day anymore. She’d been up for over an hour at this point, and stood patiently awaiting her friends to wake up and join her outside of the mess hall. Tara could sleep through a tornado, but Aaron always lingered around his home until the last possible minute, cherishing every moment with Eric that he had. And Riley didn’t blame him — she was lucky that Daryl never slept either, so they had all night to enjoy each others company until the sun began to rise and they had to get ready for whatever the day held for them.

Footsteps approaching alerted her to Tara, who was making her way toward her with her own bag shouldered and rifle slung across her back, yawning dramatically and rubbing the sleep from her eyes

“Mornin’, sunshine.” Riley laughed, earning her an eye roll from her friend. “You ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” she replied flatly. “Aaron?”

“I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”

A comfortable silence settled over the two girls as they waited, Riley dropping the tailgate of the truck and hopping up on it, sitting patiently while her legs dangled off the side.

It should be an easy run — it was just slightly farther out past the town they usually travelled to. The salvageable buildings had all been picked over; all of the others were inaccessible or too dangerous to navigate through. Nobody ever knew what new terrain brought, however, and there was always an air of anxiety when branching out further and further from the safe zone.

Riley turned her head toward the sound of voices drawing closer, spotting Daryl and Aaron as they both made their way toward the front gate.

She hopped down from the truck and slammed it back shut before making her way over to the passenger side door, meeting the two men as they approached.

“Sorry,” Aaron instantly apologized and Riley held up her hand to stop him.

“I don’t wanna hear it,” she joked. “Let’s get going. You ready?”

“Yes ma’am,” he smiled in response. For as sweet as he was, Aaron was a very good guy to have on her side out on a run: he knew the area better than most and was efficient in navigating it, smart and charismatic which more often than not helped them deter themselves from getting in trouble with strangers. Riley, in the other hand, had a difficult time biting her tongue.

As Aaron rounded the truck to the driver’s side, Riley stepped up closer to Daryl, who already had worry etched into his features in the form of wrinkles on his forehead and a furrowed brow, a permanent frown on his face as he took a long drag of the cigarette he held in between his fingers.

“It takes less effort to smile, you know,” she teased him wholeheartedly the way only she could. It was ironic, considering he always mocked her for her constant resting bitch face.

But he only snorted in derision. “It don’t take me much effort to worry about ya either, Ri.”

“Don’t worry.” She pressed her body up against his and locked her fingers into the belt loops of his jeans, resting her chin on his chest to look up at him while his bright blue eyes gazed back down into her own full of nothing but worry. No matter how many runs she went on, how many times he left to go hunting, there was no way not to lose sleep over it anymore. All you could do was wait until whomever you waited for returned and hope that they came back unscathed. “I’ll be in good hands.”

“Yeah,” He exhaled a breath of smoke to the side, avoiding blowing it into her face. “I don’t want ya in anybody’s hands but mine.”

Riley laughed and pushed up on her tiptoes, planting a reassuring kiss on his lips. “You don’t need to worry about that, Dixon.”

“Jus’ be careful, alright?”

“Of course.”

“‘N come back to me.”

“Always.” She smiled at him as the truck engine roared to life behind her, giving him one more quick kiss before turning on her heels and hoisting herself up into the bed of the truck from the wheel well and settling down against the rear windows.

Tara jumped in the side and stuck her hand out of the window, balled into a fist and waiting for Daryl to match it, and smiling when he did so. “We’ll bring her back!”

“Y’all better come back, too,” he yelled back at them as they pulled up to the front gates, slipping through it and taking off down the dirt road behind it.

~

The wind whipped past Riley’s face, the briskness a pleasant relief to her summer slightly-too-sun-kissed skin and tossing her pigtail braids around. She leaned her head back against the glass pane, striving to hear the faint Breaking Benjamin song as it played quietly on the radio inside the truck.

“Are we almost there?”

“About ten more minutes,” Aaron briefly checked the map that lay across his lap. “Or ten more miles. One of the two.”

Riley heard Tara laugh and she groaned, feeling the effects of the long drive with numb limbs and feet, stretching her legs out in front of her.

The giant sports arena they’d been searching for slowly grew into sight and she knew they were getting close.

Slinging her backpack on over her shoulders, she peered around the truck, observing her surroundings as the trees and dirt roads began to turn into pavement and houses and buildings.

The truck slowed to a stop in front of a parking garage that’s steel doors were dropped and locked, graffiti littering the outsides. Next door was the Hampton Inn — the first stop of their journey today.

They were all pleased to see it relatively untouched, though sealed shut behind a hefty chain. They’d been prepared, and Aaron already had the bolt cutters in his hands.

“Do we wanna split up?” Tara asked, thumbs hooked around her backpack straps as she rocked back and forth on he heel of her red converse. She looked like an inpatient student waiting for the school bus; Riley smiled to herself.

“The hotel has — “ Aaron grunted as he squeezed the handles of the tool together and with a loud clank the chain slid through the door handles and onto the ground as his feet. “...five stories. It’s not very big, so we’ll cover a lot of ground that way.”

“I’ll get topside,” Riley volunteered as she upholstered her pistol and unclipped the mag light from her belt, holding both up poised and ready to fire while she cautiously made her way through the lobby. The long wooden registration desk stretched across the hallway and she jumped up and over, shuffling through the shelves underneath in search of keys. Of course, they were all cards now — she just hoped they still worked without electricity.

She distributed them to her friends accordingly, assuming the numbers written in sharpie on the plastic was the associated room. “Alright, that’s all of them,” she said. “Be safe.”

“You too,” they spoke in unison as they split up and separated.

The hotel was eerily untouched: cups of coffee and open books littered the end tables and ‘do not disturb’ signs still hung on door handles; Riley made a mental note to be extra careful when entering those rooms.

The first room to her left was clean, left in preparation for its next guest that would never arrive. White sheets, white comforters, white pillows, white paint. If it weren’t for the abstract colored paintings on each wall, it would look like an asylum; with its haunting glow that came from shut curtains, the lone strip of sunlight that peered in full of dust that danced around. It gave her just enough light to see into the bathroom, where she snagged the small bottles of soap and shampoo and moved on.

The next room had occupants when it was abandoned: an open suitcase that she hit with the door in the middle of the walkway, clothes and belts and shoes hanging out of it. The chair at the corner desk was tipped over and it was just as dark as the last. She could smell the decay and hear the flies but she couldn’t see around the corner to the beds, so she knocked on the wall harshly and waited for a response before she proceeded forward.

When silence answered her, she tucked her nose into her elbow and gagged — she would never get used to that smell — and eyed the rotted corpse on the bed.

Its wallet was out, drivers license up, almost as if he wanted whomever found him to identify him right away. David A. Keisel, 48, resident of Linesville, Pennsylvania.

Blood splattered the oak headboard and white wall above it, and a Barretta Storm was tucked between its occupants dark, skeletal legs.

“Nice,” she said to herself, nearing the corpse cautiously. “Sorry about this, Davey...” she carefully reached for the pistol that was still in it’s grasp, wincing at the noise his decayed fingers made upon its release.

She checked the gun then, a full magazine with an empty chamber. Thanks, Dave. It had become a common occurrence for her to take items off of dead bodies and she’d always justified it knowing that they would want someone else to use it for their own safety... right? She could probably find more ammo for it if she rifled through his suitcase...

“Help! Help me!”

Riley jumped out of her skin and had the Baretta ready to fire at the disembodied yelling. But it wasn’t close to her — in fact, it seemed to be coming from outside somewhere.

She darted out the door and made for the first emergency exit her eyes could find: a new stairwell to the right of her with a big alarm overtop, undoubtedly to go off if they door ever opened incase of a crisis. She could almost hear the alarms again, blaring amidst the panicked screaming and crying...

Five flights of stairs, guiding by the red glow of the emergency light, and she hit first floor and pushed open another door and found herself outside again, squinting in the sunlight as she tried to adjust from the darkness of the hotel.

A man with dark hair stood on the property line, staring into the woods as if he was waiting for somebody or something to emerge. Riley made her way up to him, weapon aimed, and snuck up behind him slowly and stealthily.

“Don’t move.”

The man whipped around to see her, panic written all over his face, hands automatically flying up in surrender. He didn’t look like a threat — hell, he looked pretty worse for wear actually, and Riley briefly wondered what he’d endured. Dark eyes, shaggy dark hair, dirt caked onto his skin. “Any weapons?”

The man shook his head frantically. “No, no. Please.... you have to help my wife! One of those guys got her! Please! You have—“

“Hey!” Riley snapped, twitching the gun in her hands reinforce her sternness. He eyed it nervously. “Slow down. What guys?”

“One of those guys!” He pointed to some trees and Riley strained to follow his line of sight before she spotted a body crumpled on the ground about a hundred feet away from them. “I didn’t mean to kill him, I.... I didn’t mean.... he had Laura! They took her!”

Riley hesitated and remained silent, hoping that her friends would join her and help her out, but to no prevail. If they’d started in the basement, it was likely they didn’t even hear him screaming for help in the first place.

“Please, please go help her!”

When he turned back around Riley shrugged her backpack off, back tracking and tossing it by in hotel door she’d exited through. She didn’t want this guy threatening to rob her, even if he did look weak and pathetic. People were not to be trusted anymore; she had learned that very quickly. Or she at least should have.

“Are you going to -- ”

“Shut the fuck up, and move.” Riley demanded, shoving the gun into his back once for emphasis. “Try anything funny and I’ll blow yours and Laura’s fucking heads off, got it?”

He nodded shakily and pressed on into he woods, Riley following at his heels.

“You gotta name?” She asked, barrel still pointed at his back.

“Warner,” he responded nervously.

“What’s your story, Warner?”

“Don’t have much of one,” he shrugged. “We’ve been on the go, camp to camp to camp, group to group ever since this shit started — how long has it been? Three years? Four now?”

It sounded oddly inconspicuous but at the same time, it was more common than not. “Beats me,” Riley said flatly. Truthfully, she tried not to think about it anymore. “I find it’s easier not to count the days.”

The dead body lying at the base of a tree was unlike anything she’d ever seen before: in addition to his layer of tattoos all over his face, he had red paint on his face painting some weird tribal-esque marks. Well, she hoped it was just paint...

Head shaven, he wore armor that looked like it had come straight from a video game, with small spikes protruding from his shoulder pads and a big red unfamiliar symbol painted on the front of his chest guard. Everything else was black leather or Kevlar it seemed, and even his boots had spikes on the toes.

“What the fuck?” Riley couldn’t help but stop and gawk at it, crouching down beside it to get a closer look. It reminded her of a cosplayer or some sort of reinactor — but which war had soldiers that dressed like that? “Is this what you mean by ‘those guys’? What the hell is he?”

When Warner didn’t respond, she stood up and turned around in search of him. And by the time she’d spotted him, it was too late to stop him from bringing down the rock he held in his fist, smashing it against her face. There was a sickening crunch, searing pain, and then nothing.

Tag list❤️❤️

@crossbowking @jodiereedus22 @apossiblegentleman @mtngirlforever@sourwolf-sterek32 @winchester-angel @qrangr @cole-winchester @the-bottom-of-the-abyss @twdeadfanfic @crazyaboutnorman@deliciousassafrasssandwich @bunnymother93 @96ssi @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @ima-mther-fckn-starboy @thatsoragan @lonewolf471

cover image source: background daryl i am the girl on the right lmao

[tifarobles]

Examples of Anxiety in Disney & PIXAR films

I’ve been talking a lot about the importance of mental health awareness. Along with this comes the importance of education, especially for the next generation. Disney and PIXAR have helped by showing realistic depictions of mental health issues in ways that kids can easily learn, understand, and relate to.

I feel like it’s very important to teach our children how to talk about their emotions at a young age. They are capable of feeling sadness and we should help them be able to express these feelings, talk about bad feelings, and understand how sadness, anger, and fear affect them. This includes not always forcing them to act happy.

Today, I’m going to explore how Disney and PIXAR do a fantastic job depicting anxiety. For each example, I am choosing one character in the story to focus on. Most of these movies do a great job of displaying other types of mental health issues too. These movies have and will continue to help me teach X what emotions are and how to communicate what he is feeling in a healthy, productive way.

Inside Out - Riley:

Being a pre-teen girl is hard. Moving across the country to a new place where you don’t know anybody is scary. Combine these two things for a truly trying time. We see Riley go through these emotions in a very real way. Joy tried to keep sadness from interfering with Riley’s life. Joy was channeling Riley’s anxiety, wanting to be happy. Riley was afraid to worry her parents and just wanted to keep feeling happy, so Joy tried to force happiness by keeping sadness and all the depressing feelings in the back of her mind (literally). This response isn’t healthy and doesn’t work to relieve the issues of depression causing sad feelings of helplessness and anxiety that makes your body freeze. Riley needed to discuss her feelings in order to get any better. She needed to face her sadness head on and let Sadness take the wheel.

Riley believed that being joyful was equal to being happy. She didn’t understand that happiness and joy are different. Think about how “happiness” is represented on social media, television shows, and in movies. You don’t see a lot of the realities of life that are hard to face. The truth is, you won’t always feel happy, and that’s okay.

You can still be happy when you are feeling sad. Other times you need to feel sadness in order to get help. Sadness is a mechanism that kicks in to push us to ask for help from loved ones and friends who can support us. Riley needed the support from her parents, but was anxious about telling them. This anxiety is relatable for many people. The idea of leaving home, not wanting to worry your parents, wanting to run away from your problems, fear of not fitting in. All of these topics can cause great anxiety for many people and showing Riley in a relatable, stressful time for children makes the feeling of anxiety recognizable.

If children can learn to understand their emotions that early on, imagine how soon they can start learning coping mechanisms that work for them if they do struggle with anxiety, depression, or PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder).

Finding Nemo - Marlin:

Marlin clearly suffers from anxiety and PTSD, with a side of OCD (obsessive-compulsive disorder). He won’t even let Nemo leave the house without doing a ritual. Marlin also has separation anxiety. As soon as Nemo is out of his sight, Marlin’s anxiety makes him believe that the worst will happen.  Meanwhile, his PTSD makes him relive the worst thing that ever happened to him. At this point, his anxiety makes Marlin believe that Nemo is in danger and could die. Marlin’s body kicks into fight or flight mode, ready to do anything for his son, even facing his fears.

Throughout the movie, we see Marlin’s anxiety come into play. He is anxious about open spaces due to his PTSD. I can relate to this, having anxiety in cars after multiple car accidents. However, Marlin’s anxiety is so bad that it keeps him from leaving his home to venture out into the world. It keeps him from letting Nemo grow up with some independence. Marlin’s anxiety runs his entire life.

Marlin also has a hard time letting go of control and listening to Dory. He shows this many times as well, not believing she can read, not believing she can speak whale, and not trusting her when she says they need to go through the cavern below the jellyfish. His anxiety and fear of the unknown keeps Marlin from letting Dory help. This story arc shows how bad anxiety can affect your life and that you need to face your fears in order to enjoy life, trusting your friends to guide you.

Frozen - Elsa:

Conceal, don’t feel - not exactly a motto I’d recommend living by. (“What’s a motto?” “What’s a motto with you?” Thanks, Lion King). Elsa’s parents taught her to control her emotions by not feeling them in order to control and repress her powers. First of all, controlling your emotions doesn’t look the same as not feeling emotions.

Hiding your emotions can lead to depression, anxiety, repression, and more as it bottles up, unresolved and waiting to explode. Instead of exploding, Elsa isolated herself for years, fearful that she could hurt someone with her out of control powers. Not facing her fears only made them worse, which made it harder to relax, breathe, and focus on her feelings, which she needed to do in order to deal with them.

Much like Riley, Elsa needed to face her fears (emotions/powers in this case) in order to learn what she was capable of. Elsa’s anxiety led to years of isolation through a formative time of her life, which led to depression. This depression took away any motivation Elsa had for getting better. She kept these struggles secret from her sister out of fear of the unknown. Depression made Elsa think that it was easier to live alone.

Elsa learns how to take care of herself and manage her anxiety before she is capable of helping someone else. This is an important lesson we all have to learn. Elsa and Anna are both on similar paths to learning how to be independent in very different ways. Anna is afraid of being alone and channels that into romance (a different topic for discussion), while Elsa is learning how to live without anxiety being the only emotion she can feel.

Showing Elsa being true to herself by embracing her powers teaches children not to be afraid of something inside themselves that is different, even if it is scary. Elsa accepted her powers, as we should all embrace and celebrate our differences. The ending shows that love can help conquer depression and anxiety. In this case, love melts away the eternal ice, but in real life, love can help you to heal. Elsa needed to stop being afraid of letting Anna in to help her. Anna was the help Elsa needed all along.

Toy Story - Jessie:

Jessie has an intense fear of isolation, abandonment, and claustrophobia due to her PTSD. Her PTSD gives her uncontrollable anxiety. Any time Jessie thinks she is going into a box, she has a panic attack. The viewer sees her rapid breathing, her desire to curl up into a ball, and her flight response kick in as she wants nothing more than to get away from the situation. The way anxiety is showed is so powerful that it makes it easy to explain to a child what anxiety looks and feels like.

In Toy Story of Terror (on Netflix), Jessie’s anxiety is the main focal point of the story. In the end, you see her overcoming these fears to help someone she cares about. Jessie has to overcome a panic attack in a very realistic way. It isn’t easy, but with encouragement from friends, she is able to do it. This shows that anxiety can be addressed, but that it takes effort and support.

Tangled - Rapunzel:

Rapunzel’s anxiety is a different beast. Rapunzel has a very happy attitude, perhaps too happy given that she has been locked in a tower for 18 years with no connection to the outside world. Throughout the movie, the viewer experiences Rapunzel coming to terms with her life by finally getting to interact with people and realizing that she is the lost princess with two loving parents waiting for her to come home.

Her anxiety comes from valid fears - she has no idea what to expect. We watch her have a breakdown that mixes these anxious feelings with mania for finally being outside, paired with feelings of guilt for betraying the only human she has any connection with. We see the back and forth struggle. As someone with experience with bipolar disorder, I appreciated this realistic depiction of mania. Mania is rarely explored and when it is, you often don’t see the positive sides of mania. Mania makes you feel happy and often leads to people with bipolar disorder not seeking help because they don’t want to lose that happiness. Mania can also lead to rash, dangerous decisions.

Side note: Bipolar disorder to vastly misunderstood as someone with mood swings, when that isn’t the case. Someone with bipolar disorder generally has months of manic episodes and then months of depression. It doesn’t happen back and forth on the same day. Mood swings in bipolar disorder are more likely caused by the anxiety that accompanies mania and depression.

Rapunzel’s anxiety is attempting to save her from her mania, but her mania pushes her forward to follow her dreams. With time and treatment, Rapunzel will likely live a mostly normal, happy life, but she will need to learn how to cope with the PTSD of her childhood and learn how to manage her mania and anxiety in healthy ways.

These are the examples that I can relate to the most when it comes to anxiety in Disney and PIXAR films. There are MANY mental disorders that could be explored from this lens for (maybe?) every Disney and PIXAR film. What important depictions do you enjoy seeing in children’s movies?

[stopforamoment]

The Thing that Happened TO Me (3 of 7)

Sturm und Drang The Thing that Happened TO Me (3 of 7)

Book: The Royal Romance (After Book Three) Pairing: Bastien Lykel x OFC Rinda Parks Word Count: 2,476 Rating: R for Language and Discussion of Rape ******TRIGGERS discussion and description of rape Author’s Note: Obligatory disclaimer that Pixelberry Studios owns the TRR characters and my pocketbook with those darn diamond scenes. OFC with all of her quirks is all mine. My apologies if Tumblr or I do something stupid when I try to post this. The keep reading link shows up on my laptop but not my phone. Ugh. This series takes place in week three of the school year, and Bastien and Rinda are about to go through their first major friendship challenges. Summary: Bastien finds information about an incident in Rinda’s past and he tries to comfort her.

It was Friday evening and Henry was at a friend’s house for a sleepover. Bastien found the information Rinda was talking about, and he casually asked if it would be a good night for him to stop over. Rinda knew exactly what he meant, and she nodded. Rinda left a little earlier so she could get supper started, and Bastien came a half hour later. Rinda was already in her banana pajama bottoms and a T-shirt when Bastien got there. He smirked. “Pickles, you didn’t have to dress up for me!” Rinda laughed and gave him a playful poke. “Pickles? That’s awesomely silly. But yeah, getting into snug clothes at the end of a long day is sacred, Bastien. You aren’t going to ruin this for me.” They talked during dinner, Rinda getting a few more details about Ms. Trakas and how she was always cornering Bastien when he was trying to work. He did use the code word, and now the teachers were proactive about helping him when she was around. “Do you feel better about the situation, Bastien?” “Yes, but it’s hard to know what to do. I mean, I don’t want to be rude, but I have a job to do. And she’s actually not even divorced yet. That’s . . . complicated.” Rinda laughed and agreed. “I know they say the best way to get over someone is to get under someone, but I personally don’t think that’s always a good idea.” Rinda stopped, suddenly embarrassed that she made such a judgmental comment about Ms. Traskas’ choices. That was none of her business. “Wow, I’m obviously not the one to be giving advice about moving on. That was really bitchy of me and I’m so sorry.” Bastien nodded. He understood what Rinda meant. “Yes, I thought about that too. It would be awkward when . . .  if feelings change or she’d regret doing something so quickly. I’d still have to see her while I’m at the school.” After dinner Bastien started the dishes but Rinda tried to stop him. “Hey, you’re my guest. You don’t have to do that.” He grinned. “If I remember correctly, the rules are that the person who cooked doesn’t do the dishes.” Rinda laughed. “Okay, but since I cooked, I have the right to bend the rules a bit. I’d like to help.”

They worked quietly for awhile when Rinda asked. “Did you find it?” Bastien nodded. “Yes.” “There, um, were a couple different versions floating around. What did you see?” Bastien finished rinsing a dish and reached for a towel, slowly drying his hands. “I’d rather we sat down. Do you feel more comfortable at the table?” Rinda sighed. “Let’s sit on the couch.” They walked over and Bastien got out the file. “Just so you know, I have read all of this. I’m sorry, Rinda. I’m sure you must feel violated . . .” She smiled. “Yes, but not by you. Thank you for that, though. I appreciate that you said it. So, can you just tell me the highlights before I start reading? I trust you enough that I actually would prefer to hear it from you than get the shock of reading it.” Bastien looked at Rinda. “You were right. There are at least two versions of events that I found. I’m used to dealing with cover ups—even being part of them, I’m afraid to say—so I knew what to look for. Rinda, what happened?” Rinda gave a half smile. “That’s the problem, Bastien. I DON’T know. I was roofied. That’s why I was hoping you knew. One minute I’m telling this jerk that I want to call it a night, but against my better judgement I agree to finish my drink before I leave. The next thing I know I’m in the hospital. And there was a toxicology report and rape kit . . . at one point. And there were witnesses at the restaurant and . . . the ones who found me who were going to testify. But suddenly they remembered events differently. And from what I know a few students got amazing college scholarships, money was donated for a new building on campus, and there was a generous donation to the hospital to help the NICU. So that’s pretty great stuff. Silver lining, right?” Rinda leaned forward, locking eyes with Bastien. “What do you know? I’m serious. I was so out of it, and by the time I was able to process everything, everything was just gone. The only thing left was that I was a sloppy drunk who was helped out of the restaurant by that great guy, and . . . well . . . I must have fallen and been knocked unconscious on my way home. I was so lucky because it could have been so much worse.” “Rinda, once you know, you can’t un-know. Just think about that.” “Bastien, I’ve had years to think about that. But it did happen, and it feels like so many people know the truth . . . except me. It happened TO ME. And things were swept under the rug, so that was another way I was violated and had no control, once again. I deserve to know what happened to me. To my body. To . . . the justice system. Just because I told a spoiled rich boy ‘no’ and he didn’t like my answer. And then his family couldn’t buy my silence. So they bought off everyone who had any record of that night. Sometimes I swear I’m crazy Bastien. That it didn’t even happen and I made it up. But it’s in the file, right? So I’m not crazy?”

“Rinda, you’re not crazy.” Rinda grabbed the file and began reading. Bastien’s research was thorough. He even had access to the original toxicology report and rape kit. Copies of the original reports. Not the reports that were released to campus police. How the hell is he even able to find this stuff? “Bastien, so was it the hospital or campus police who hid this? How were you even able to find the original reports? I thought they would have been destroyed?” “I think both, Rinda. It would have happened at the administrative level. A university regent or chancellor speaks to the chief of campus police, and something goes missing. A hospital board member talks to the right person and medical records go missing or get altered. When people have money and power, really, anything is possible. As far as finding this stuff, people usually keep a copy for leverage.” Rinda nodded. That made sense. “Thank you. I figured it would be easy to bribe the waiter at the restaurant and the people who found me, but the medical records were the ones that really threw me.” Bastien spoke quietly and slowly, unsure if he should even ask. “Rinda, you remember waking up in the hospital. Do you remember . . . anything?” She shook her head. “No. I guess that’s a blessing, although there was enough evidence for me to piece things together. And I remember some of the things I was told before the cover up began.” She got up. “I’m getting a drink. Want anything?” “No. No thank you, Rinda.” He heard her voice from the other room. She was talking as she was pouring herself a drink. Then she sat at the table, away from Bastien. “Bastien? I know that . . . I know that I was found in a dumpster. I know that I was literally thrown away when he was done with me.” Rinda couldn’t make eye contact with Bastien. It was too humiliating. “I also know that I was in pretty rough shape. Even though the ‘official’ reports came back as negative, I had the after effects of being drugged. I had . . . I had the physical indicators that I was attacked and brutalized. And that the injuries went beyond . . . I guess you could say a ‘standard rape,’ whatever the fuck that even means.” She sighed. “But I also know that I’m lucky. I didn’t get HIV or any STIs. I didn’t get pregnant that night. I was able to heal enough that I was able to have Henry. And Jameson. He dealt with so much baggage, Bastien. But I know I didn’t truly heal until I was able to trust him and be with him. And all that crap made me appreciate him even more and love him even more, as lame as that sounds.” Frustrated with herself, Rinda pushed her glass across the table. It almost slid off the edge and it almost shattered on the floor. But it didn’t. “Rinda?” “Hmm.” “May I please sit at the table near you? I won’t sit right next to you or touch you. Is that okay?” Rinda nodded. She was still sitting, but now her feet were on the chair, her arms wrapped around her knees. Bastien grabbed a blanket off the couch. “Would you like a blanket?” She nodded again, not looking up. “Okay, Rinda. I’m going walk over with the blanket. And I’m going to stand behind you and place the blanket on your shoulders. I won’t touch you, okay? And I’ll keep talking so you know where I am.” He kept talking as he walked toward her. “Rinda, you did nothing wrong. You survived. You did everything right. And you’re safe. You’re in your home and you’re safe. Okay, I’m going to walk behind you now. You’re safe. I’m just setting the blanket on your shoulders. You’re safe. I’m moving away and you’re safe.” Rinda clutched the blanket, covering the top of her head and pulling it around her, trying to hide herself and protect herself. “Bastien?” “Yes, Rinda? I’m right here.” “Bastien, why do you put up with my shit? Why did Jameson put up with my shit? Why does anyone put up with my shit? I have way too much fucking baggage for anyone to want to put up with my shit.” “Because you’re amazing, Rinda. Because you’re worth it. I put up with your shit because you are fierce. When I saw you stand up to Kakos during training again and again, I knew Queen Riley picked the right person. I knew right away how amazing you are. When you prepared to meet with that parent, you knew what you were getting into and you prepared for it. You stood up to him. I put up with your shit because you can dish it out and you can take it. Hell, you’re surviving working with me. You put up with my shit. “Rinda, actually, it’s not even about putting up with your shit. Or putting up with you. You really are amazing. You’re so intelligent and you remain calm in so many situations. I still can’t believe that you figured out how to exit the school so quickly during that lockdown training drill. Or how you made those maps from your own research and figured out that whole library passageway thing. Or the look in your eyes when we did those practice self-defense moves. When you broke that man’s elbow. I saw it in your eyes, Rinda. You’re a survivor. You will do whatever it takes to protect yourself and the ones you care about. I see you with Henry. I see you with your neighbors. With the students and teachers. You are the perfect mixture of compassion, generosity, and strength. I was absolutely amazed by you that first week and I get even more amazed with every day we’re together.” Bastien shook his head, frustrated with himself. “God, that sounds so cheesy.” Rinda looked up, shocked by the sudden tone in his voice. But she looked back down again when he continued speaking. “You make people laugh, Rinda. You even get me to laugh. You drive me crazy when you make inappropriate jokes, but it works. It’s this confusing, frustrating thing. On one hand people are so relaxed around you. But you also keep them on their toes with your sarcasm and one-liners. You always have the last word, but it’s funny. There’s times when I’m by myself and I just start laughing because I think of some goofy thing you said during the day. And Rinda, when you walk into a room . . . I can’t even explain it without sounding ridiculous. But you really do light up the room. And it’s more than that. It’s when you leave . . . when you leave the room you leave something behind. People are happier. But you’re still gone and it’s not the same. It’s like the clouds covered the sun when you leave. And there’s a big emptiness that I feel when you’re not around.” Bastien started to reach across the table to Rinda, but he quickly stopped himself. “Rinda, you’re everything. Don’t ever, ever forget that. Do you hear me?” Rinda’s eyes were wide as she silently nodded. Then she retreated back into her blanket cocoon, not saying anything. But he sat next to her, comforting Rinda with his presence. So she told him. She told him her feelings about what it was like to be a woman. How being with Jameson made her feel so protected and she missed that. How afraid she was last week with the man. Even though he and Julian were there, that she was also worried about the repercussions of his anger and her career. And Bastien just let her talk as she tried to find words for her feelings. He was still learning how the Rinda Rambles worked. How to pick out what was important, how to clarify those connections that Rinda wasn’t able to, and to gently ask questions to learn what she wasn’t saying.

. . . . .

Bastien couldn’t sleep that night. He thought about everything Rinda had gone through. The night she was attacked, losing Jameson. It would make sense if she’d never open up to anyone else ever again. Especially if she knew what he did to Riley. But he had to tell her. . . . . . Bastien went to Rinda’s house the next day. She knew he had something important to say, but she didn’t know what. She only knew that Henry couldn’t be around, so Mr. Ariti promised to keep Henry busy with some chores that he needed help with. So Bastien came into her home and told her the truth about his role in Queen Riley’s public humiliation. How he purposely chose the naivest of Liam’s suitors to do the dirty work. How he made sure there wasn’t a lock on Riley’s door. How he helped escort her to the airport when the pictures went viral. He came into Rinda’s home and he destroyed her.

[mcrcki]

“ no, please, don't kill me, mr. ghostface. i wanna be in the sequel!! ”

Was that [ABIGAIL COWEN]? Oh no no, that was just [TATUM RILEY], a [CANON CHARACTER] from [SCREAM]. They are [EIGHTEEN] years old and [ARE] aware that they are not actually from Washington DC. Too bad they can’t stray from this city for long.

how long has your character been here

tatum’s been here for about a year, give or take a few months

what is your character's job

right now she’s starting her first semester of college, she’s still undecided on her major, gone through too many different ideas over the process of applying and decided to just get the first semester out of the way before fully declaring one. 

where has your character been pulled from in their fandom

she’s pulled directly after said mr ghostface killed her

has any magic affected your character

nope, she’s still the same old tatum, just much less dead

and any other information you might find useful for us and the other members to know!!

starting off this with, i am unfortunately obsessed with the scream franchise and will ramble about every aspect of the first movie specifically but also the sequels after. also scream 5???????????????? anyways, i am just a little obsessed with tatum and her entire vibe throughout the movie, she’s so fucking iconic so anyways here’s me rambling about my girl 

the younger sister of dewey riley, lifelong best friend of sidney prescott, girlfriend of stu macher. 

truly the more carefree, over the top, bubbly bff to sidney’s sort of reserved personality. 

has some of the best one liners in the movie please

literally coined the name ghostface thank you v much

is killed by billy but has no idea who was behind the mask. she personally still has no clue what really happened that night and she doesn’t like to think about it. tends to stay out of garages and doesn’t like being in locked rooms. deals with a lot of the trauma from it still but she tries to put it behind her

she’s got more important things going on than dwelling on what happened in woodsboro

is currently in college with an undeclared major, cause she’s debated between psychology, criminal justice, journalism, and just dropping out and going to cosmetology school. sort of all over the place with school right now as she still struggles with feeling like the life she lives right now is even real

she’s the kind of person to absolutely hype you up but also tell you all the harsh truths you need to hear before someone who cares less about you tells you

would give you the shirt off of her back but also leave you on read if you asked her some question she thought was stupid

truly just trying to live her life right now, trying to put woodsboro behind her and just enjoy the life that she never got the chance to have

possible connections :

roommate(s) ; she has an apartment off campus and would love to have one or two roommates

friends ; just be her bud pls

hookups/exes ; she’s been here for a year, and definitely would have fallen down the path of ‘this will distract me’. she’s bi but leans towards men

boyfriend/girlfriend ; this is gonna be one of those big chemistry/plotting things and i know i eventually wanna go down this road but it’s not my main focus rn

classmates ; just any college students??

coworkers ; she’s probably picked up a couple part time jobs in retail/waitressing 

emergency contact ; listen, she definitely has like at least one friend she calls when she feels like something is wrong, someone she calls when she needs someone else around with her, just a shoulder to lean on when she gets stuck in those “i was murdered” headspaces

self defense class friends/instructors ; girl is one of the only people to fully fight off ghostface, like her and sid kicked both of their asses, she knows how to fight and definitely kept it up in the city

[u-flower-u-feast]

♡TAG CHAIN♡

i was tagged by @harry-did-that  who constantly challenges me with the toughest questions and scenarios lol!!! Thanks honey!!💖💖💖💖 

im tagging @harryzayn​, @heliosfleur​, @haesthete​, @luvinari​, @anotherblackharrie​, and anyone else who wants to (i just finished this and im exhausted and can’t think of anyone else lol!!)

Rules: answer the questions given to you by the tagger, write questions of your own, and tag people!

🌸The questions I was given🌸

1. when and how did you become a fan? give me all the details and feelings hit me with that nostalgia! Tbh I was one of those snooty hoes who hated wmyb and was like “If they’re saying what makes you beautiful is that you don’t know your beautiful....... Then what happens when you finally think you’re beautiful??? They probably wouldn’t think your beautiful anymore” laskjdlkajslkdja!! But after faking like I hated the song, this girl in my science class came up to me and was like *Slams down some random teen mag with the boys on the cover* “Pick one!!”......... And I was like “Uhhhhh..... No thanks??” and she just kept getting on my nerves about picking one, she eventually said if i picked one that she’d leave. So I looked............. and I said *pointing to harry and zayn* “Either him or him” and she had the nerve to be like “No!!! You cant have him (Zayn) he’s mine!”........ me:

and since that moment of childish, superficial, decision-making........ I’ve been a dead hoe 4 harry.

2. whats ur fave 1d moment/memory? I’m blanking all of a sudden alksjdlakjslkdj!!! All I can think of rn is when harry almost died on 1d day tryna pull that cute ass stunt

Pretty much..... 1d day in general laksjdlkajls!!!

(Me too harry lol) Harry looked so divine??? So yeah lol!! 1d day for sure

3. if you were to fight harry how would you go about it

Sis........... I’ve been dreaming about this. In a perfect scenario, we’d be friends already so he knows that i’m fighting him with love from the deepest, darkest, coldest, crevices of my heart. So, it’d have to be a time when we’re just hanging out somewhere, preferably in someones (preferably mine) apartment/house. We’d be watching queer eye or something gay, and discussing what from this seasons gucci line we’re gonna buy. When all of a sudden i’ll go in for a random, friendly hug, and he’ll accept...............................................................To his DEMISE!!! CAUSE I would bite his ear (not off, just to clarify lol!! Just a nip lol!!) and go straight for his neck and choke him out alskdjlksjldjka!! He’d probably start panicking, but at this point i’d tell him how long i’ve been waiting to do this, and that i’m doing this out of love............ nothing but pure love. So when he blacks out and wakes up laid out on the couch, with me placing a cold ice pack on his head, he’ll probably ask me what tf happened....... So i’ll tell him the truth, and tell him that he fainted and started convulsing and that i had to call 911 (or whatever the emergency # is wherever we are) and they told me what to do over the phone; and that by the time they got there he had settled down and was fine, but i needed to apply a cold press to his head where he fell and make sure he has solid food on his stomach.😇😇😇

4. so like, if we had 1d (ot4/ot5 idc) locked in a room and given them truth serum slkdnlksdnf sorry for this au but, what 3 questions would you ask them (feel free to do more than 3 its been almost 8 years full of lies so)

I’ll give you one for each year of lies aksljdlakjslkd!!

1- What the fuck were Zayn and Harry laughing about on 1d day?

2- What is each of their honest opinions on the others??

3- Crystabel Riley....... Thats all I’ll say on that..... But I want the truth lol!!

4- Why tf Zayn had the nerve to say that he and Harry never talked???

5- The Infinity video????

6- If they hadn’t known Zayn was gonna leave, who would they truly want to leave the band????? Or! If they could sacrifice one of the others for Zayn to stay, who would they sacrifice??????

7- Did Liam really think that Japan would be hotter cause its “near Australia”??????? (a waste of a question, but a question i need to ask for myself lol!!)

8- And because i’m nosy and would never ever ask any other time or under other circumstances; Out of all of the people they’ve been rumored to have been dating/dated, how many have they actually dated? and which ones??*Mainly this is for harry, but i’ll ask the others cause...... you know.....

5. tell me some of your fave people on here (treat ppl with kindness spread love n all that look at me being a proper Harrie™)

I have a couple of faves lol! I love @harryzayn she’s amaaaazingggggggg even tho she tries me on a daily basis alskjdlkajsldkj!! Oh!! And her moodboards (x) are spectacular, she’s legit the reason why I started doing moodboards (barely lol!! I’m lazy y’all, but she's not lol!!)

@haesthete She always has amazing hontent and is very sweet and kindddddd lol!! And is always (in my opinion) on the right side of henny serious harry drama

@luvinari is an absolute angel who blesses my dash with harry and ariana and others i can think of rn lol!! 

@bluehydrangeia She fills my dash with my mother lana del rey, harry, and aesthetic!! That and I never fail to get more literature knowledge from her lol!

Theres a lot more, but when I’m put on the spot i blank out lol!! If we’ve EVER talked, or interacted you’re probably on this list too lol!!

6. signature scent/ favorite perfume(s)?

I don’t really have a signature perfume, but I like to mix cherry and vanilla body sprays lol!! That! Or warm vanilla honey/toasted hazelnut from b&bw  

7. please tell me a random fact or story about you, give me that Exclusive knowledge

Ummmmm....... My *tries to remember while sitting down* right side of my hip is double jointed lol!! That and i entered 2 different kinds of writing contest and won both of them lol!! Ya gurl is actually good at writing believe it or not alskjdlakjs!!! Bonus! I’ve actually gotten too deep in my feels a couple times and wrote fics for @harryzayn to read lmaooo!!!

8. money, body issues, and all that shit aside, what would your dream fashion aesthetic be?

..........Rianne you hate me lol!! I have about 50 aslkdjalskjdl!! So I’ll give you a top 5!

1- Rocker Chic

2- Simplistic Minimalist

3- 70s Kween

4- Eclectic Bitch

5- Rich Business Hoe

(Bonus!)6- Flashy young rich trophy wife having a night out

9. would you rather have: the cut bits of carpool karaoke like the mcdonalds drive through, audio’s of all the 70 songs harry wrote (yes including baby honey), the infinity music video, the 900 hours of unseen this is us footage, harry’s dunkirk audition tape, a recording of that alleged hour long zarry phonecall when zayn left, or a copy of nialls folder full of unseen selfies with his boys. you kno what im nice you can have two

You are so fucking rude rianne alskjdlkajsjdalj!! I’m gonna go with...... All 70 of harry’s hidden ass songs. And............. *has mini existential crisis cause i can’t choose between the zarry phone call or the this is us footage* I’m gonna choose the this is us footage cause that would be a lot more positive *whispers: but if you want to be a super nice, cool, amazing, totally unique, game changing, never replicated friend........ You’d let me take the zarry call too lol!! *

10. whats something you’re proud of?

*Thinks hard for about 20 minutes.....* Umm I think im proud of the fact that, any musical instrument i’ve learned (3-4) i’ve taught myself??

11. something you regret?

Being too nice to people who didn’t deserve that from me.

12. what bothers you? here’s a chance to… go off

People who have literally no musical talent, but feel the need to go on mile long rants about musicians/artist they don’t like and try to simplify any musical or artistic process like making (GOOD) music is simple and easy.

On the other hand, musicians with absolutely no musicianship at all, who get by based on looks or a really weirdly strong fan base despite....their....lack........of talent??? (Bonus trash points if they’re also just really shitty people in general)

People who feel the need to bring up negative shit in the middle of anything happy. Like??? We could all be having a party over harry painting his nails black, and they could be like “Why tf is his nail polish chipped already??? He was probably picking at it cause the devil jeff made him do it” Like????? Shut tf up cindy (Also this is a made up scenario lol!!)

...... Pms?? The thought of having to pay bills?? Taxes??? The government???? The patriarchy??????

💖💕✨🌻 so here’s my questions🌻✨💕💖

1. There are two types of people in this world. What are the two types?

2. If you had to lock away 3 of ot5 in an underground cave, who would you lock away??

3. If you could have a never-ending candle that smelled like anything you wanted, what fragrance would you want it to be?

4. An interesting au question i just though of lol! You’re chilling at home, when all of a sudden you get a call from Harry. You answer it only to find out that he has you on a party line with the other boys. They’re all panicking cause they’re having different emergencies and they all need your singular help, but they’re all in different locations 20 minutes away from you. They’re all convinced you’re their best friend and that you’ll help them first. You can only help 3 and the other two have to figure their problem out on their own, or face the consequences. Who do you help first, and so on? (and yes the bottom 3 will be mad at you. The person in 2nd place will be disappointed but they’ll eventually get over it.)

5. Whats your favorite *insert ur fave 1d member here* look?

6. What would be the scariest monster you could imagine?

8. If your life was a book, what would it be titled?

6. Quick! You just won the lottery, what are the first 3 things you buy?

9. Would you rather have: True love, but live in less than ideal conditions. Or Be rich, but be married to someone you despised?

10. Whats something you’re proud of?

11. Three personality traits you hate?

12. What are you afraid people see when they look at you?

[themutantunderground]

In Another Life Ch. 3

Aka The Single Dad John!AU

John is raising a daughter on his own, working at Xavier's, and balancing "superhero" duties when Clarice moves into his apartment building. He's curious about her. On her end, Clarice isn't sure what to make of John and his daughter. It's better to not get close to people, but it's also nice to be wanted.

Ao3 | FF.net

"So. Portals?"

"Yep," Clarice said, "Portals. I think it'll be the best way to get everything up here from the yard, and it should save us a lot of trips."

John leaned back against the kitchen counter, curious. There were a few standard teleporters at Xavier's, but he didn't know of anyone who could create actual portals. Clarice had mentioned using her ability as a way to get everything up to the apartment quicker, but he had thought she might have telekinesis or something.

This was unexpected.

On the other side of the kitchen area, Lorna was standing next to her husband Marcos. They had brought Clarice's lamp down from their apartment on the next floor up and decided to stay to help out. They had also brought along some breakfast in case Clarice hadn't had any, plus Marcos was still finishing off his plate. Harry had texted back to let him know he would be down in a few minutes, and Shatter replied to say he would be over right after he finished walking his dog Reggie.

John had sent a text to Ororo to let her know that he and Riley were going to be late and so would Marcos and Lorna. He didn't think it would take too long, so he was pretty sure he would be there in time for his first class, but Ororo had said she would take his students if he did wind up missing it. Riley would be late for kindergarten, but her teacher wouldn't mind, not when she was helping out somebody in need.

Riley sat cross-legged on the kitchen counter beside him, her head tilted to the side. "What's a portal?"

"Well, short stuff, it's a cosmic hole that rips through space and time to let you get from point A to point B instantaneously," Lorna said, her tone playfully matter-of-fact.

John rolled his eyes at her not-so-kid-friendly explanation, and she grinned back at him. "What? It is."

Marcos looped an arm around her waist. "You do know she's five, right?"

"I'm just being honest."

Riley blinked and looked up at John, her scrunchy-faced confusion making her extra adorable. "Huh?"

John laughed and ran his hand over her braid, giving it an affectionate tug. "It's…Well, you know how Kurt can teleport? Get from one place to another like that?" He snapped his fingers.

"Yuh-huh."

"Well, it's like that but…" Okay, so he wasn't exactly sure how to explain it either.

"I can show you," Clarice said, smiling at Riley and stepping toward her. "Here, hold out your hands." Riley obliged, cupping her hands and putting them together in front of her. Her wings flexed in excited anticipation.

Clarice raised her right hand and spread her fingers wide. A hole appeared above her palm, small and bright with shimmering purples and blues.

"Ooo," Riley cooed, instantly drawn to it and Clarice. "That's so pretty."

"Ready?" Clarice asked.

Riley nodded. Another portal hole appeared, this one glowing above Riley. Reaching over, Clarice picked up a Halo tangerine that Marcos and Lorna had brought and dropped it into the portal above her hand. It tumbled through that portal and popped out above Riley, falling straight into her outstretched hands.

The five-year-old's eyes lit up as she held the tangerine out toward John. "Look, Daddy! So cool!"

"I saw," John said, impressed. He had heard that portal creation wasn't easy, mainly because, as Lorna put it, it was basically the ability to rip through time and space. He took the tangerine from his daughter and peeled it, handing half of it back to Riley and holding the other half out to Clarice. John smiled. "Very cool."

Clarice tucked a locked of her hair back behind her pointed ear before taking the tangerine slices from him. "So, yeah, I was thinking I could just create a portal here and a portal on the ground, and we could carry everything through that instead of going up and down the stairs."

"Is that what you told those asshole movers before they split?" Lorna asked, her eyes hard. John knew she wasn't mad at Clarice, quite the opposite in fact. She must have seen the movers leaving but not been able to do anything from her apartment. If she hadn't been six months pregnant, she probably would've launched herself off her balcony and confronted them.

John frowned at her over Riley's head. "Language."

"I'll donate to your Cuss Jar later," Lorna said, not looking away from Clarice.

Clarice shook her head. "No, I think they're just generally as…" John lifted his eyebrows and she frowned. "I don't think they liked that I was the one who hired them."

"They didn't like that you were a mutant, you mean."

"Maybe we could talk about this later," John said, resting his hand on the top of Riley's head.

Clarice glanced at Riley and nodded. "Great idea."

The five-year-old was watching the adults with intense focus, and this was actually a subject she could follow. Even though she was a little kid, Riley saw her unfair share of sideways looks and avoidance tactics. She just looked so different than what people considered the norm, and not everyone was willing to accept that about her. Every time some punk kid didn't want to play with her because of her purple skin and her butterfly wings or someone steered away from her, eyes averted because she might be dangerous, he wanted to confront them. Sometimes he did, but other times, he didn't because he knew it would just upset Riley more.

"I think we should start moving stuff," Marcos said, clapping his hands together and giving Lorna a long look.

She nodded, sending a small, encouraging smile Riley's way. "Yeah, sounds good."

Riley peeled off another slice of tangerine and held it out to John. "I can move little things."

He took the piece of tangerine and popped it into his mouth before swiping her off the countertop. "How little? Little like a toaster? Little like a lamp? Or little like a mouse?"

"Clarice doesn't got mice," Riley said, a bright grin popping onto her face. "And little like me!"

"Well, now, that's really little."

"Like super tiny," Marcos teased, "I don't think Clarice is going to have anything that small."

"Nuh-uh, I'm bigger now, Marcos," Riley said, making a face at him, which got a laugh from Marcos. "I'm a big little."

"You sure are," John said. He set Riley down and kept a hand on her shoulder as he looked over at Clarice. "I think we're ready to do this if you are."

"Yeah, let's go for it," Clarice said. Stepping toward the window, she looked down at the yard and then stretched her hands like she was literally tearing open a hole in the air. It appeared in front of her, a glimmering ring straight out of science fiction movie. Beyond it, the front yard and all of Clarice's things were visible. Clarice stepped out from behind the portal, and it wavered a little before stabilizing.

"I can hold it like this for a few minutes," she said, "Then I'll have to take a break." She sounded somewhat distracted, and John guessed that part of her attention was on keeping the portal open.

Riley slipped away from him and darted toward the portal. He stepped after her, but she jumped through it and then jumped back into the apartment. She laughed, a sound of pure joy and amazement, and leapt back out on the lawn again. "Clarice, I love it!"

"Looks like it," Clarice said, but she smiled as the little girl bounced into the apartment, "What are you, part rubber? You're so bouncy." She held out a hand to Riley, who took it and pulled her through the portal, out into the front yard.

"Let's go," John said, watching the two of them. Marcos lifted an eyebrow at him as Lorna headed out to the front yard, hopefully to pick up something light or use her abilities to lift instead. "What?"

"She's good with Riley," Marcos said, shrugging, a cunning smirk on his face. "Just saying."

"She's probably got a boyfriend, and besides, I'm too busy," John said. How could she not already have a boyfriend? That seemed basically impossible. "And we're not having this discussion standing in her apartment."

"Then we can go out to the lawn," Marcos said, gesturing toward the portal. "And you're not that busy, John."

"Marcos…" John shook his head and shoved his friend out of the apartment, through the portal. First Riley commenting on how beautiful Clarice was, and now here was Marcos. Next was going to be Lorna trying to set him up on a date.

[valhalla-awaitsfor-us]

5 of the prompts. You choose the OCs. I love all.

I FINALLY DID IT. IM SO SORRY FOR THE WAITING.

@asttralhell

“Seriously! I just put that pie out, who took it? ”

When Lottieheard frenetic footsteps coming up the stairs she just knew it was Eugene. She didn’t feel the need to turn around toconfirm it. She has lived with the boy for ten years now, she knew hisfootsteps. Rushed, noisy, as if they were shouting: “Here I am!” every time Gene entered a room. No, Lottiedidn’t need a confirmation; and she also didn’t need to know what washappening. As usual, she just knew it.

“Lottie. CodeRed. Code fucking red.”

Charlottewas trying to finish a painting she had been working on for days… But asalways the inspiration seemed to be laughing in her face. She couldn’t find theright shapes, the precise colors, and her shadows couldn’t be worse. Maybethat’s why her cousin thought it would be an excellent idea to invite Rileyover. According to Gene “It was going to help her to relax.” To befair, he had a point. Her best works came to her when Lottie was having fun. SoRiley was more than welcome to their home … but when the girl proposed tocook a pie, Lottie knew deep downthat it wouldn’t end well. Riley was a horrible cook, and Eugene an even worsekitchen assistant. There was no way that combination would end up well. For thatsame reason Charlotte excused herself saying that she preferred to continueworking on her painting, leaving them alone to take care of the pie.

Hissuspicions were confirmed when Eugene ran into her room, messy hair andirregular breathing, panic reflected in his blue eyes. Charlotte put the brushon the easel and gave him her full attention.

“What kindof code red?”

“What kindof code red? A code red! How many kinds of code red do you know?”

“Last weekyou started shouting “code red” around the house because you couldn’t findyour green socks. Forgive me for thinking that you may be exaggerating again.”

“They aremy lucky socks …! Whatever, there’s no time to talk now.”

Eugene ranto the window and opened it. The hot summer air flooded the room and Lottiewrinkled her nose, annoyed. She didn’t like to use the word “hate” asif it meant nothing, but she hatedthe heat.

“Umm…Gene?Do I want to know what you’re doing?”

Her cousin,who seemed about to throw himself out the window, turned to see her, smiling.

“From hereI can reach the branch of the tree … God, Lottie, you’re wasting thestrategic advantage of your room. If you wanted to, you could totally sneak outat night and nobody would notice.”

“Sneak out?And go where?”

“I don’tknow, there are plenty of cool things out there.”

“Andwhy would I need to sneak out to see them? Why can’t I go during the day?”

“You arenot getting it.”

Lottieopened her mouth to answer but a noise on the first floor caught the attentionof the cousins. Someone had just closed the oven with an exaggerated force; asif that person was full of anger.

“Where thefuck…?!”

 Theunmistakable voice of Riley traveled through the walls, and Charlotte tried toremember the moment when she naively thought that this time it would bedifferent, this time they would really have fun together, without fights,without arguments without … whatever Eugene and Riley did every time they hangtogether. Charlotte looked at Eugene, waiting for an explanation, but hercousin kept looking towards the stairs, as if he expected Riley to appear atany moment, looking for him, chasing him like a dog to his prey. Geneswallowed.

“What didyou do now?” Lottie asked tiredly, forgetting completely about her painting.

“In mydefense…” Eugene said finally looking her in the eyes. “Her pie sucks. Ialmost threw up the whole thing.”

“The whole…?How much did you eat?”

Eugeneshrugged and opened his mouth, looking for a credible excuse, but Riley’s footstepscoming up the stairs, made the boy completely forget about the conversation andhe literally threw himself out the window, landing on the oak branch, and thennimbly jumping to the ground. Charlotte would have been impressed if she didn’tknow that her cousin was capable of even flying if necessary to run away fromhis problems.

"Seriously!I just put that pie out, who took it? ”

Riley,still wearing an apron, entered Lottie’s room, emanating an aura of pure fury.In his hands she had a plate with a tiny pie portion. The image was funnywithout a doubt. A rude girl like her was wearing a pink flower apron, afterbaking a pie, while at the same time her eyes reflected thirst for blood.

“Where ishe?”

“Who?”

“Eugene,Lottie.”

“Oh…” Lottie took a few seconds to look around her room, and finallyreturned her attention to Riley as she shrugged.

“You knowyou’re my best friend, but you suck at lying.” Lottie gave her a humble smile,and she prepared to take her brush again, determined to stay out of the fightbetween her friend and her cousin. “Only this was left.” Rileycontinued looking sadly at the plate.

“Looks yummy.”Lottie encouraged her, dipping her brush in red paint for simple inertia.Actually, she was pretty lost.

“Doyou want a bite?” Riley asked hopefully with an uncertain smile.“It’s the first time I try. My grandma is the family cook, but I think Idid a decent job.”

Charlottelooked at the piece of pie, in the hands of her friend, for a few seconds,deliberating if it was worth it to accepting the offer or not. On one hand shewanted to make Riley feel better, but on the other she didn’t want to end upthrowing up an hour in the bathroom. Finally she looked up and denied.

“No thanks,I’m … busy right now.” Riley shrugged and Lottie refocused on her painting,but before the brush touched the blank canva her hand stopped. It was useless. Shesighed. That wasn’t her day…

“Riley, doyou think I have talent …?”

Before shecould finish the sentence her friend began to cough exaggeratedly. His eyesfilled with tears and she grimaced. Lottie watched her in silence, bewildered,waiting for Riley to recover the composure.

"Shit…” Riley said observing the remaining piece of pie with repulsion.“I think I feel sorry for Eugene now.”

Lottiestared at Riley astonished for a few seconds, analyzing her face until her faceslowly began to form a smile, until she finally burst into laughter.

“What?”Asked irritated and confused Riley “What’s funny?”

Lottiecould only shake her head, unable to utter a word. The situation wasridiculous. It always was when the three of them got together. But thatparticular day was being extremely weird. Eugene had jumped out of the window,terrified that Riley would take revenge on him. For what? So that she feltsorry for him? Lottie struggled to breathe; laughter was preventing her frominhaling properly. Meanwhile, Riley stared at her in silence, frowning, waitingfor answers. Charlotte tried to find the words but her cell phone distractedher. Eugene’s name flashed on the screen and the redhead took the phone withoutfirst glancing at Riley, who just rolled her eyes.

“Answer tothe jerk.”

Lottiechuckled before giving her full attention to her cousin’s message: "Hey, Lottieee, sorry for leaving. Mylife depended on that. How are things there? Has the beast calmed down yet? I’mat the park. If Riley doesn’t want to kill me anymore, would you two like to gofor ice cream?” The girl looked up and Riley raised an eyebrow.

“And? Whatdoes he want?”

“He …He’s saying sorry … And he asks if we want to go with him for ice cream.”

“Sorry? Really?Let me see the message.”

"No,”Lottie answered immediately, and Riley nodded, smiling, knowing perfectly wellwhat the content of that message might be.

“Okay …”Riley surrendered after meditating for a moment. “We’re going for ice cream, orwhatever.”

Lottiesmiled but looked at her painting, still unfinished, a constant reminder thatinspiration had left her.

“I….”

“Hey.”Riley interrupted her thoughts. “You need a break. You have been locked inthese four walls for hours now; it is time for you to go out and breathe freshair. What do you say?”

Silenceflooded the room for a few seconds, while Lottie struggled internally betweengoing out to have fun and keep working. She looked at the blank canvas one lasttime before looking around the room. It was full of drawings and pictureshanging on the walls, she couldnt help but smile.

The drawing of a golden fish swimming in black water,illuminating everything around him was the fisrt thing that caught her attention;  she had painted it after a visit to theaquarium with Gene and Riley, two months ago. And the drawing of the girl witha green balloon and her dog … Lottie was inspired after Eugene dragged themto the fair. Riley and Gene were competing in a shooting game, trying to win asilly and giant teddy bear. But then, this little girl appeared from nowhere,carrying a puppy in her arms, and asked if she could play with them. Lottiecould see in the faces of the two friends that the rivalry had been forgottenin a matter of seconds, and now both of them were decided to let the littlegirl win. Eugene because he loved kids, and Riley… well, Lottie was prettysure that she did it cause of the dog… Oh! And her painting  of the swing inthe sunset of a spring day! She had painted it the night of her birthday. Afterall the guests at the party left the house, Lottie, Riley and Gene went for awalk. The three of them ended up at the park and saw the sunset. Lottie sittingin the hammock, Eugene on the top of the slide and Riley on top of a monkeybar. They didn’t talk for a few minutes, just watching the sun disappear. Thathad been a great birthday for sure.

Lottieput her brush on the easel, and took a deep breath, directing her attention toRiley, who was still there, waiting patiently for an answer.

“Maybe youare right.”

“Of courseI am.”  Riley smiled and offered her a hand andLottie accepted it without hesitation.

That nightLottie´s white canvas was flooded with bright colors.

My previous drabble about a young witch trying practiced her magic on secret:

X

[brooklynislandgirl]

Me, do me next ;)

Send me your URL and I’ll tell you

My Opinion on;

Character in general: The first stage of the forging process is the hardest. It starts as simple bar stock. Then it is heated and hammered until the first faint shape of the sword it will become one day can be seen.Zarek was the offspring of Ares and one of his many mistresses, a mortal. The woman wanted the divinity but not the offspring of the union, and before he drew his first breath, before he had lungs with which to do so, she tried to rid herself of him. Clearly, she did not succeed. Once he was born, she abandoned him to the windswept crags his soul would come to resemble. This too, failed to kill him, and he was taken as a slave. Having survived infancy, it’s impossible to say that his masters knew what they had in their hands but they misused the dark eyed boy. Kept him locked away only to be taken out when it suits.

The Blade is then quenched. This rapid cooling process realigns the properties of the sword, toughening and strengthening it.

Whipping boy. Scorned and disregarded. Unloved and abused. What should have produced a short and pained life ended up creating a tall, broad and hard man. They hadn’t expected his mind to be voracious, quick to learn and quick to judge. They hadn’t expected that every scar and mark on his body would be a stone for him to climb up on. From child to soldier, he excelled at martial prowess, earning him a reputation that could only be whispered in the dark.

The process repeats itself: 

Heat. He sacrifices body for freedom. Long limbs. Stinging sweat. An aura of calm as screams rise up around him. The world slowly spinning as blades and shields clashed. Always moving. Always rending. A force of nature that could not be stood against. Conquest.

Hammer. Isolation. Groups gathered in camp nursing battle wounds, sharing their measures of food and drink. The ribald talk of soldiers who survived the day. They stop laughing as he walks by. All eyes on him, wary. They do not trust. They do not welcome. Their fear can be tasted in the wind.

Quench. Red hair spills down her shoulders. This girl who becomes a princess. They have known each since they were young. His valour has earned her, he’s bought her through oceans of blood. Her eyes look to him, she smiles.  He is not moved by this, but it’s… expected. She sees a soldier. He sees the world ablaze. Through the smoke of would be pyres he doesn’t see betrayal. Why settle for a General, when you can become a queen? She didn’t know his birthright. She didn’t know the man she murdered would rise up as a demi-god. He still spills her blood in the wedding bed, and her new husband’s too.The Process repeats itself.Heat. Different geography, same story. Only he is a mercenary now, fighting for the highest bidder. Always only one step ahead. He has learned what he is through his only friend, a being that is called Sin. The God-killer. They make a pair, don’t they. Leaving decimation in their red-stained wake. But still. While he cannot deny he enjoys himself, there is something that haunts him. A hatred black as his soul is stained. His father has not forgotten. And his father fears…even a god cannot undo prophecy.Hammer: This thousand years later and Ares can clearly see the mistake he has made, allowing the boy to live. To become a man. To become a demi-god. And so he plots and he strikes from shadows, for what good that does him. The old god does not think as fast, doesn’t hunger as deeply. Though sharp, his teeth are yellowed with age and changing belief while his son’s legacy only grows.Quench: Another woman. More red hair and dark eyes and lips that would rival Aphrodite’s if such thing would not call down the wrath of Olympus. She, too, is a child of the divine, unlike the last. She, too, has ambitions. He takes her to his bed, it is expected and he has never shirked duty, his chains might be broken but they’ve never been cast completely off. Ares comes to her, and makes pretty promises. A new place among the gods for the cost of one insignificant life. She takes the bargain. He barely survives. Wreaks his vengeance but…perhaps his father succeeded in a different way. What little good there might have still been, what hope he might have sheltered carefully in the heart she cut out of his back… is crushed. Nothing left for him to cling to. The Process repeats itself.Heat. He stares out over the water choked with green and haunted by moss covered Cyprus trees ~a bitter joke, isn’t it? Named for the country of his father’s longest kept lover.  He is alone. Has been for yet another thousand years. Takes company when it suits him. Pays. Leaves. Stone and steel do not need or know softness. His scars are enough. The air is thick, the heat steals breath and he bares his teeth. Because something dares tread his domain.

Hammer: She was small. A nuisance at best. He doesn’t want her here. Doesn’t want anyone. But she is a helpless child, one who can barely speak a civilized tongue and he’s moved to pity. Warns her away, promises to lead her back to her sunlight and her vibrant riot of colour and people. Life’s funny that way, makes other plans when he isn’t looking, and she touches him. And he’s cursed, isn’t he…because he can’t, no matter how hard he tries, get rid of her. They make a wager, and they try to kill each other. She doesn’t succeed…and he’s disturbed because for once…neither can he. But she is mortal, and he has time. Nothing else but. He doesn’t feel the constricting webs of fate until it is too late.Quench: She loves him. Regardless of how he feels. And there’s the rub. He does. He...feels. Has very definite opinions about this that don’t become clear until she dies in his arms and he keeps her there, cradling her small body. He grieves, perhaps, for the first time in all of his life. But, with her first new breath, reborn in the same place that was her grave, his eyes narrow. His path is set. The blade is carefully sharpened, edges ground to a fine point and honed. Now, it is finished. Ready to be wielded by anyone who has the strength and courage to command it.That is what his father has always known, the glimmer the god of war has tried over aeons to destroy, piece by piece.Zarek only obeys himself.

How they play them: I love Z. And I have absolutely no idea why. He’s a little arrogant. A lot abrasive. He is stubborn, infuriating, sometimes callous. His actions and thoughts are questionable at best, almost evil at his worst. But there’s something compelling too, if you look deep enough, past the facade he puts up and wishes the whole world to see. Hints of what could have been, if it had turned out differently. If he’d been nurtured instead of scorned. Ghosts that whisper that he wasn’t always this way, and might not always be. And over the year I’ve been privileged to play with Zarek, he’s actually changed. Slowly, subtle enough that it can be overlooked if you aren’t paying attention. He’s compromised. Given ground. He’s not soft by any means but he’s learning. Growing. And that is maybe an author/mun’s hardest won accolade. The ability to show this and still keep the character recognizable and alive.The Mun: My Other is a shy and reclusive little thing. Very few people get to see her the way I do, and fewer still get a chance to play with her. But you know what? She cares. Whether you’re my mutual or someone I’ve mentioned in passing, she reads and enjoys from afar, and she’s very quietly cheering us all on. In a month, I will have known K-mun for a year. We talk every day, from morning until night. Sometimes we’re quiet and only type a few things between hours. Sometimes we can’t type and read fast enough and overlap several conversations at once. She is absolutely one of my best friends and she is family. I well and truly love her, if that isn’t obvious. I hate that she lives so far away and I have to sometimes stop myself from sending her random messages at 2am. She’s gracious enough not to have complained. This meme reply is actually more a love letter to her and her character, in case it wasn’t obvious.

Do I:

RP with them: For Beth, it was literally love at first sight. I tried to warn her. I told her no. She didn’t listen, and I am glad she didn’t. I am sure that there are days Kmun sits with her phone or with laptop and wishes, for once, that ….how was that put me by someone else…? Ah yes, slightly paraphrased for language: 

“I’m sure he’s magnificent, but could you get off him for five whole seconds so we can have an adult conversation?”Want to RP with them:  Why is this even a thing. That is a stupid question, as evidenced by not only Beth and Zarek, but also Seren and Riley, and Aspen and Riley. And Sin and Isk. And Sin and Beth. And Aylen and Sully and you know what, I should just come clean and say that we are practically inseparable. And in a month, who knows, we might have another 219861785 other muse-pairs.

What is my;

Overall Opinion:  I want to point out that she is a multi-muse blog {says so RIGHT in her name for the folks playing at home}. That she can keep that many characters distinct and relevant and I don’t think she gets the credit she deserves for that. I don’t think I tell her enough that she makes my day, that I love her muses, that I love her writing. I will follow her anywhere.And if all ends tomorrow, if she never writes another word again, I will continue to love her and her worlds and her stories.

**Note: Mun’s answer are all to be completely honest. Don’t send url if you don’t want brutal honesty

[aquarianlights]

So, you all gave up on me for THAT reason, huh? Yeah, I figured it out.

((((This is c/ped directly from FB and no I am not editing it in any way. It is almost 5am. I have more biology stuff to do. But I need to rest my joints and also I’m tired so I may take a nap before my 9am alarm goes off. Not reading this over. Ignore grammar and spelling errors. If you don’t get something and need to know, drop a question below or in my ask box. I gotchu.))))

When friends pull through for you and make everything better and you come out of a non-verbal phase that you still don't know what it was caused by.... and you talk things out because that's what you're used to doing.... But you still feel like you're screaming, but alas... apparently you're only whispering or talking above a whisper and using an indoor voice. And whenever I went non-verbal in the past, I'd always wonder "Am I ever going to speak again?" Because if you know me...you know I never shut up. If I couldn't talk, I'd be at a LOSS FOR WORDS OH PUN OF A FUCKING LIFE TIME no but seriously, If I couldn't talk aloud, I think that would be the end of my life. Being trapped in your head is the scariest thing in the world. You know those nightmares where you're screaming for help but the sound won't come out for some reason and you wake up in a cold sweat either actually screaming in real life or realizing that you were trying to do so and it was just a dream?

That's reality for some of us with certain mental disorders. And mine normally last at least 24 hours to a full 3 days. This is the shortest I've ever been nonverbal.

I relapsed. So hard. Again. Again? Fucking again. Seems like yesterday that I had relapsed. If this becomes a problem again, I need someone who cares enough about my existence to actually hold an intervention for me. If you can find one other person who cares that I exist to also attend.... even if it's just a long distance group chat..... I would still...be receptive. I wouldn't treat it like all the other handfuls of interventions I've had in my life. My scoffing at people, telling them "I'll quit when I want to quit and I just don't feel like quitting now, that's all.", calling all of you liars, getting angry, literally destroying inanimate objects, striking fear into the hearts of friends who are just trying their damndest to save me from myself, and even going as far as to physically assault people or cut good, supportive, wonderful friends out of my life permanently and making their lives hell from behind the scenes for vengeance. I am not that person anymore. I haven't been for a while. I am not Nickita. I am not Riley. I am Killian. Killian Quincy Roswell. And I have gone through so much in the past 5+ months that is has completely turned my life upside down and changed me and given my personality and lifestyle an overhaul for the better. I've been so good about controlling my pain killer addiction. To the point at where it's not been a problem at all. And the one time I did relapse, I bounced back the next day with no problem and it was a one time thing and I was assuming it would never happen again. Well, it did. Today. And I'm scared for myself. Because every method in the book and out of the book doesn't work on me. Not only do I not have TIME or money/insurance for rehab, but rehab centers won't accept me because of the slue of mental disorders I have and the psych medications I take, which they are not equipped for. So all the attempts I have relentlessly made in the past to get myself into rehab when I actually had the time.... were shot down and I was given random numbers. Luckily, I had enough sense to look them up before calling. All psych wards... all wards in which I would have been immediately IVC'd for the millionth time. And having that 20+ ward stay (stopped counting at 20) being the ONE psych who caught onto my "ward persona" and how I had been playing the system all over the US because I know how IVC's work and I know exactly how to play the system to get everything I want while institutionalized and how to get out as quickly as legally possibly and even once or twice before legally possible. Yes, my ward persona is that good. But finally...... the pattern was caught. All the intricate web of lies I had spun were caught. And the last ward I was in... made a HUGE note in my file to watch for every single tiny minute detail of my ward persona and to not allow me to play the system. They had been recommending me for permanent or at least long-term state ward transferal for at least 10 wards before this got logged in my file, but I know how to play the system SO WELL that I never actually got transferred and actually got them to write that off in my record as though it were a "Nevermind, this boy doesn't need to be in a state ward. He'll be okay." But the last ward I was in... that psych caught my ward persona and all the lies I had been keeping up to get out ASAP that I had developed and kept consistent since my 3rd or 4th IVC after I started to really learn the system. After about my 10th IVC, I had the system so down pat, that my ward persona kicked in immediately after the trauma and shock of getting thrown on the bad side and watching the other people get taken to the good side. After I got out of the PTSD flashbacks and after the initial overload of contributing MORE trauma to the part of my PTSD that is all psych ward based (as psych wards always do more harm than good and never help, only hurt), my ward persona comes out on his own. And all the lies and the fake life and everything I have woven from almost the very beginning come out in clean, utter consistency from my words to my actions to my mannerisms to literally everything about me. And the second I get released, Killian comes back. We're still one in the same, obviously, but my ward persona is the dominant one when I get IVC'd and I take a back seat because I know if I just suck it up and use that persona, I can get out in the absolute minimum amount of legal time or even less than the legal time on rare occasions. I wouldn't have even known that this RED ALERT little pamphlet was in my book-load of a psych file if it were not for the psychiatrist they referred me to for aftercare and a follow up, long-term treatment plan (as per usual). For once, I actually enjoyed who they chose...for the most part. And he came in after getting that and said "You know the psych in the ward says you lied in the ward right?" I laugh and go "Well, of course I did. Every single thing I say and do in wards is a lie. That's how I get out so fast." He nods and goes "Yeah that's exactly what it says here." I felt my blood turn to fucking ice. "What?" He showed me my file and what the psych had put in and allowed me to sit there in the middle of his office on the floor (because I was so stupefied that after over 20+ institutionalizations, a bazillion hospitalizations, a handful of emergency assessments from an ACTs team, 8 years of merciless therapy, and one trip to an eating disorder clinic when I was a wee lad... I couldn't even make it back to the recliner so I just collapsed to my knees on the floor in the middle of his office and sat there reading the thing word for word, going over EVERYTHING....fine print and all.) and they had it all in there. They knew everything. They had combed through the whole book of my files and had been watching me the whole time........and never said a word. I got out at the minimum legal IVC release date and said psychiatrist responded to my ward persona just like all the other psychs in those facilities across all the states I have been institutionalized in..... I had no thoughts that he ever suspected the truth. I THOUGHT MY OPERATION RAN AS SMOOTHLY AS ALWAYS. I was so wrong. And at the end of reading every single piece of my ward persona and all the lies I wove and all the tricks I was playing in order to get out....was a warning to all other psychiatrists telling them to GO THROUGH with transferring me to a state ward for long-term or permanent institutionalization. And that scares me more than anything. *MY POINT HERE IS: I cannot GO to a psych ward even as a VOLUNTARY commitment patient because the same rules still apply...... Everything thinks if you go in Voluntary, you're gonna get special treatment and you can leave whenever you want. HAH. Idk if that's how it works on the good side as I've never been on the good side before. If I go as a VC instead of an IVC...... There is STILL the possibility I will get transferred to a state ward even if I'm just there for drug rehabilitation and detox purposes. And that CANNOT happen. But I don't even have TIME for VC anyways! I DO NOT! Fuck NO! I don't have time for outpatient or NA meetings anyways and all the NA meetings I have been to were either terrifying [long story about white supremacy and a door being locked fucking terrifying omg I probably would have gotten shot if they had had guns] or they have just been absolutely boring, a waste of time, and absolutely unhelpful in every way possible. NA and AA is just....the biggest waste of time for me, personally. There's no point in me going. I tried. I did. It didn't work. I'm not sure WHAT would work with me...... I know one sure-fire thing that works with me...possibly the ONLY thing that works with me... is having a tangible item I can wear that is subtle and possibly hide-able underneath clothing...or something I can put in a pocket that I won't lose.... Made by someone I know that is unique to both them and me. Something that reminds me of them and me. Or something that we both have... Ie; My big long distance sister, Summer and I both have the same exact necklace. When we are both having a bad day, we both wear  it and hold onto it during stressful moments and send each other pictures of us wearing or holding our necklaces during downtime in our hectic/stressful days. Ie; My Packmate necklace from my NOLA fremily is possibly my most.... essential tangible item I own. It reminds me I have a whole family of friends in New Orleans. And I also have a vial of warding magick made by my one of my two ultimate best friends (I have two platonic soul mates, Chelle and Janles, who I both have necklaces for that I hide under my clothes every single day or keep in my pocket) and those two necklaces are the most important part of me and I never leave home without them otherwise I feel anxious and nervous the entire day if I don't feel that wolf and vial pressing against my chest under my binder or can't whip it out just play with it and touch it and FEEL IT and it FORCES ME to remember that I have a whole PACK of friends who are my FAMILY who would take me in a moments notice and genuinely love me and would never turn me away for any reason and would go to the ends of the earth and back for me and have proven it time and time again. Idk if anyone else has this strange little coping mechanism with tangible items....but I have a whole slue of coping mechanisms I use that no psychologist will ever tell you because they're not taught in any schools and no one ever knows about them because I made them up myself because no traditional or non-traditional (out-of-the-box-esque-thinking-style) coping mechanisms work for me.... so I finally just made my own. Aka, my word spelling one. [Ask me if you wish. It's a very helpful coping mechanism. And trust me, it works for EVERYONE via a breakthrough in neuroscience they had back in February that they're still trying to develop a synthetic pill to trigger the active distraction centre of the brain instead of the passive distraction centre of the brain without making you so actively distracted that you will become ADD/ADHD. Yes, there are herbs that activate this centre that was only recently fully mapped.... but for those of that cannot take ANY sort of herbal thing or natural/holistic remedy, aka me, a synthetic pill is exactly what I need and this spelling coping mechanism is the most SIMPLISTIC way to trigger the active distraction centre of the brain instead of the passive centre. It's beautiful and never fails to work. On ANYONE. Even those who have a hard time with spelling. In fact, it works even better for those who cannot spell well, I have found.] But tangible items work best for me. If you want to show me you genuinely care........ send me some sort of reminder that you do so that every time I wear it or keep it in my pocket and have doubts that ANYONE gives a damn and know in my heart of hearts that NO ONE would miss me if I were dead except Chelle and Janles and they would get over it. But then again.... I'm a pragmatist. And the problem here is that the reality of things win every time. And reality is that no one WOULD miss me if I were dead and only a VERY select few care and EVERYONE has given up on me on tumblr, my MAIN social media platform. Where I used have a good 50+ messages in my inbox EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. for a good 5 years straight... I now have about 5 per day on average if I'm lucky, with a slue of private messages and never any anons. And that hurts like hell. Why has everyone given up on me? What did I do wrong? Or ....what did I do right? Did everyone NOT give up on me and just....move on because I "don't" need help anymore because I've beat most of my mental illnesses and physical illnesses aren't "deep and poetic and beautiful and artistic" like my psychological illnesses are? HMM. IS THAT IT, YOU FUCKING CUNTS!? [talking to tumblr people now specifically, as I'm gonna c/p this post to tumblr] I'm assuming that's why. Everyone has abandoned me because I'm not mostly dealing with physical illness and I have gone on the straight and narrow with my casual professional looks and my hair is not crazy colours anymore and I have taken out most of my piercings and keep my tattoos covered and the piercings I have kept in, I have new stuff for them that is more...professional looking. I'm guessing everyone wants the alternative boy that I used to be and not the mature, professional, pre-med, happy, focused, driven, thriving, adventurous, positive, comfortable-in-my-own-skin man I have come to be. And the fact that no one can hurt me anymore is.... probably a deterrent for many of the poor widdle anonnys. Poor babys. Heh. I'd love to see 'em try, though. But..... Nonetheless, I'mma co c/p this to tumblr and ATTEMPT to sleep. I'd like to get up early, take the dogs for a short walk if the weather is still nice out, and head on over to the most wonderful coffee shop and spend the day there pouring over my genetics labs and 3D genetics imaging software. MMMmmmmmmmyes. I'm loving this little portion of biology we are currently studying (not so little, actually...every "portion" is pretty big...the first "portion" consisted of chapters 1-32.... the CLIFFNOTES were 50 pages long...HAHA). But I wanted to give a shoutout to everyone who just helped through a fucking crisis situation and a relapse. If you feel it's becoming a problem again in any way, PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, hold an intervention for me because I won't know or notice it.... because I down them like anyways and "Once an addict, always an addict" seems to ring true. Like I said before...you can be fine for years with no problems and then something pops up and suddenly you're curled up in a ball on the floor sobbing because you broke after years of being clean. Thank you to everyone who just got me through all of that. I put my blade away. I put the pills away. I'm gonna go to sleep and live to see tomorrow and give it my normal 200% tomorrow. But I'm dead serious. Hold an intervention for me and I ****WILL NOT**** react how I have in all the past interventions I have had. I will react totally differently and be totally receptive to it. Even if it's just a group chat....... with...only 2 people, because that's all I can imagine of who would genuinely care about my existence enough to take time out of their day to talk to me about my drug use. People USED to care until they discovered how I acted like a bratty, immature little 2 year old throwing an angry, enraged tantrum during an intervention and attacked people who were just trying to help. /////I am NOT that person anymore.///// Help me. Please. I don't know who to turn to....where to go. And I cannot tell if it is becoming a problem or not. Not that anyone read this far, but....I exist for fucks sake. I exist. No one knows or cares about that fact because no one has FuCKING READ THIS FAR but.....I....exist.......... and it matters...... It matters to me.... It may not matter to anyone else.... and it may not matter to anyone who read the top line and immediately scrolled past this and therefore is not reading like everyone else [or the people who just saw the first paragraph and hit like/love and didn't realize this is an angsty post....trust me...watch....it happens. often. because people don't read what I write. because they don't care about me. No one does. No one ever has, no one ever will. Except Chelle and Janles. And possibly my NOLA and LD fremily and a few LD best friends. But not to the point that they would care enough to read this or take action. I love you all. And thank you to those of you who DID take action tonight. It means a lot to me. It really meant a lot and showed me that even when I AM in distress and panic mode and being a whiny little brat and need all the help....there are still friends who HAVEN'T given up and DON'T glorify the extremeness of my mental illnesses and DON'T hate me because I am currently physically disabled that cannot and has never been glorified and friends who DON'T hate me for finally growing into a much more mature person and finally becoming genuinely happy with myself and discovering my passion and putting in 200% every single day to achieve that passion and goal and will stop at nothing to do so. And fuck ALL OF YOU who have abandoned me because of the EXTREME life, personality, and looks make-over. I am not the same persona you knew even 5-6 months ago. I if you don't like it, that's fine. But for fucks sake, get out of my damn life already. And be brave enough to either leave or tell me. Only one person in this world has been brave enough to tell in aloud in person that they legitimately don't like me got a hug and I had never been so happy in my goddamn life and I hope that person is doing well because everyone else is too goddamn intimidated by me to do it. I am finally happy with myself and that’s just too damn bad that you’re depressed that you can’t get pleasure from watching me suffer anymore since I love myself so much now. Almost to a point of pure narcissism. I’m fucking fantastic, honestly. And everyone should love me. So idk why you all abandoned me other than the fact I changed my personality, looks, hair, style, career path, beat my mental illnesses and do not struggle as much anymore, put in 200% every day instead of suffer and bitch and moan all the time, am genuinely happy instead of miserable, and developed physical, chronic pain illnesses which you cannot glorify and make into deep, artistic things like my extreme mental illnesses, you cunts. Yeah, I sure as hell did call you ALL out on that. I know. I know. You all didn’t expect me to actually figure it out, did you? That’s too bad. Sucks for all of you. I knew tumblrites really did glorify mental illnesses, but when I got diagnosed with sociopathy on top of everything else, boy oh boy, everyone just went haywire with that. Sure, borderline personality disorder is the only thing I “struggle with”, but honestly...I have made it enhance my life now. I have made BPD my bitch. And all my other disorders are under control via medication. You can’t just glorify all my psychotic level disorders and turn them into these deep, artistic things when they’re not. I’ll trade you for them any day, you ignorant 12 year old fucking cunts. Oh, but now I have Ehlers Danlos and fibromyalgia that is most definitely not fibro and is something else and I need my RA factors checked into deeper because fibro is the worst diagnosis to have since it doesn’t really MEAN anything other than two very vague, obscure things leading up to “We also don’t know what’s wrong with you, so here’s a diagnosis that fits everything you’re experiencing since all/majority of your blood tests came back negative/perfect/good.” No. Fibro is not an acceptable diagnosis to me when I damn well know they can dig deeper. Fuck fibromyalgia. It’s not a real damn diagnosis and they can dig deeper into what it ACTUALLY is. And while I have the insurance to pay for it, you can damn well bet that I am doing everything in my power to get my RA factors delved into MUCH deeper. The only thing that came back oddly was my SED rates. And we all (who are educated on these things) know what that means. [long aggravated sigh]. So, no, fibro is unacceptable. But you can’t glorify and turn Ehlers Danlos and fibromyalgia into something deep and artistic, can you, ya fuckin’ lollipops? No, you can’t. So go suck some milk from the teet, ya little bitch babies. Because you need some to grow up a bit. I really need to go to sleep now. I'm not checking this for spelling/grammar errors. If there are any mistakes here or anything you don't understand [that's mostly for tumblr, not here on fb], it's okay. Just roll with it. It's called #vaguebooking according to my big brother, Jeff. He's a genius, so we just accept it. Lol. Gute nacht, meine familie. <3

[infinitehouseofbooks]

BLOG TOUR - Handbook for Mortals

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DISCLAIMER: This content has been provided to INFINITE HOUSE OF BOOKS by Xpresso Book Tours. No compensation was received. This information required by the Federal Trade Commission.

Handbook for Mortals Lani Sarem (Handbook for Mortals, #1) Publication date: August 15th 2017 Genres: Contemporary, New Adult, Romance

Zade Holder has always been a free-spirited young woman, from a long dynasty of tarot-card readers, fortunetellers, and practitioners of magick. Growing up in a small town and never quite fitting in, Zade is determined to forge her own path. She leaves her home in Tennessee to break free from her overprotective mother Dela, the local resident spellcaster and fortuneteller.

Zade travels to Las Vegas and uses supernatural powers to become part of a premiere magic show led by the infamous magician Charles Spellman. Zade fits right in with his troupe of artists and misfits. After all, when everyone is slightly eccentric, appearing ”normal” is much less important.

Behind the scenes of this multimillion-dollar production, Zade finds herself caught in a love triangle with Mac, the show’s good-looking but rough-around-the-edges technical director and Jackson, the tall, dark, handsome and charming bandleader.

Zade’s secrets and the struggle to choose between Mac or Jackson creates reckless tension during the grand finale of the show. Using Chaos magick, which is known for being unpredictable, she tests her abilities as a spellcaster farther than she’s ever tried and finds herself at death’s door. Her fate is left in the hands of a mortal who does not believe in a world of real magick, a fortuneteller who knew one day Zade would put herself in danger and a dagger with mystical powers…

Handbook for Mortals is the first book in the series of this urban fantasy, paranormal romance series by author Lani Sarem.

Following Zade through the trials–and romance–of finding her own place in the world, readers will identify with their own struggles to fit in, reflected in the fantastic, yet mundane world of Zade’s life.

Handbook for Mortals is in development as a motion picture set to debut in 2018

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble

—

EXCERPT:

“Hopefully I wasn’t interrupting something important,” Mac said, with no attempt at feigning actual sincerity. I could tell he didn’t care that he had interrupted, or that he had been rude.

“Just kindness.” I responded. I don’t think he expected my answer to be truthful, and he looked taken aback. He had probably expected me to say “Oh, no worries! Nothing important.” He made no comment, but backed off a little. When he continued talking, he had a bit less snap in his voice.

“I’d like to schedule a crew call for you once your contract has been signed. You, me, and all of our techs, so we can go over your trick and map out how it will be safely implemented into the show.” He knew that calling what I had done a “trick” instead of an illusion I would take as a slight. It’s sort of like telling someone who had just won an Olympic gold medal and was proudly wearing it around their neck, that their necklace was cute. Mac kept incessantly tapping his Sharpie on the side of his clipboard and shifting his weight between his feet.

I stood up slowly and calculated, looking him square in the eye, which probably surprised him a bit, since he was at least six feet tall. I’ve always enjoyed the luxury of being a tall girl. I’m five foot nine inches and so while I don’t usually tower above any guys I know, I can definitely look them directly in the eye. Most girls who at five feet five inches (which, I believe, is an average height for a woman) have to look up. My height was an advantage that I never took for granted and here, again, I was happy that I didn’t have to look up to him—figuratively or literally. In heels I could even be as tall or taller than him and I’ve always loved that part about being the height I am. I half smiled and slowly spoke, “Maybe you misunderstood. I don’t show anyone how it’s done. That wasn’t just for the audition. I handle this illusion on my own.”

Mac held still for a moment, and then glanced up from his clipboard, looking irritated. He pursed his lips and flared his nostrils. The tapping stopped. He dropped the clipboard from his stomach and held it in his hand while pointing his finger directly in my face. “Listen, lady, I don’t know who else you worked for, but we don’t do that Lone Ranger stuff around here. I’m the technical director and in charge of everyone’s safety, no matter how stupid you want to be. You do what I say, and I keep your pretty self from getting hurt. Got it?” I’m fairly certain he growled at me as he spoke.

Myriad thoughts ran through my head and I’m pretty sure several seconds passed in silence as we stared each other down. I could feel my hands tightening into fists. I really did want to punch him. I could see it happening. I’m not strong by any means but I’m also not a wimp. I wouldn’t have broken anything, but he would have been bruised and sore. I quickly ran through the possible outcomes of punching the technical director on my first day of work. It didn’t really seem to be the best idea.

I leaned into him so closely that it might have looked like to an outsider that I was about to kiss him. I huffed a little and my words were slow and deliberate. “I understand this is your job and all, but I don’t think you’re listening to me,” I hissed. I tapped his chest with my finger and he jolted a bit at my touch. He looked at me like I was speaking some kind of foreign language.

“I’m not listening? Lady, you need your ears cleaned,” he snarled back. He turned around to walk away, as if that was the end of our conversation. If he was trying to piss me off more, it was working.

I grabbed him by the shoulder, stopping him in his tracks and swinging him around to face me. My face had flushed and I’d raised my voice to a full yell. “And you need to get some manners. I’m not showing you how it’s done, okay? If we have a problem I can go to another show where the technical director doesn’t have a God complex. I’m not a girl who needs a knight in shining armor.” I was practically snarling at him.

Mac gritted his teeth and looked like he might hit me, but I knew that wasn’t really an option for him. Guys like him didn’t hit women, no matter how mad we made them. He laughed loudly. “Ha! Good luck finding a Technical Director who will treat you like the princess you clearly think you are. If I found you locked in a tower, I promise I’d leave you there.” Mac whipped around again and this time saw Riley, who had been standing just a few feet away from us the whole time. Riley was pretending not to be paying too much attention, but you could tell that was all he had been doing. I couldn’t blame him. Mac glowered at Riley and barked, “Where’s C.S.? Riley, go find Charles. Now!”

“On the move,” Riley replied with a nervous, almost panicked look on his face as he ran off to the side and disappeared.

Author Bio:

Lani Sarem basically grew up in the entertainment industry. She began acting at age three and continued to act and perform through her early years. Lani began writing scripts when she was eleven. Over the years she has become a jack-of-all-trades in the entertainment business. She became a rock n’ rolly gypsy at fifteen and started touring with bands and working on festivals. She’s toured with everyone from Ryan Adams to Gnarls Barkley. She also became one of the youngest female managers in the business and managed bands like the Plain White T’s, 100 Monkeys and Blues Traveler. Lani has appeared in films like Mall Cop 2, Jason Bourne, and Trailer Park Shark. Handbook for Mortals is a debut novel of a series of books, which are also being made into feature films. You can follow Lani on her social networks to keep up with her many adventures and look out for her at a Wizard World Comic Con near you.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook (book) / Facebook (author) / Twitter

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BLOG TOUR – Handbook for Mortals was originally published on the Wordpress version of SHANNON MUIR'S INFINITE HOUSE OF BOOKS.