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07/06/2020 01:10 PM 

The Rules

Welcome to my account. I know I hate having rules but some like to make it difficult so I had to follow these we should get along fine. 1. No flirting, hitting on of my character will be tolerated. I don't care or want excuses including their characters are like this or their nature. Also no asking for smut or explicit roleplays. This is a roleplay and writing site not a brothel or p0rno. Don't ask to ship with their characters either. I am here to write, make stories. Not here to sleep around or do booty calls. Anyone that tries will be blocked. End of story. 2. No one liners or text speakers. To write with me I expect some proper grammar. I am not a neo nazi grammar person. But I expect few mistakes here and there. Use of proper grammar is required if those that can't do this. Then I won't bother. Like effort. To write with me the length I want is Para to multiple paragraph nothing less than that. 3.  I will not tolerate God modding, bullying, or anyone to control my muse, character. That includes killing them or forcing them into a relationship. I will do and portray, ship my character how I choose. No one has the right to tell me how to write, do my character. I respect everuomr and how they do their characters I expect same in return. Killing  or forcing my character into anything, anyone tells me how to do my character, including causing drama over shipping, over status updates I do is my business, or without ​my knowledge or discussion first will be blocked or deleted. 4. I am patient and lenient on replies. We got a busy life outside of here. Take your time. If those that hassle me if it hasn't been a hour, ask me to redo a starter, stop replying to discussions, or stop replying to roleplays without telling me first will be removed. 

Roleplay Rules

That Other Stilinski

07/05/2020 11:42 PM 

Out of group mains

Coming soon

07/05/2020 08:10 PM 

Task 002: Independence Day Carnival

The sun was shining in through the bedroom window as Starlee began getting dressed for the evening. For the first time in ten years, she was going to be able to attend one of her most favorite events in Fairhope; Independence Day Carnival. It was a huge deal for the small town. People seemed to come from miles just to participate in the annual event. Growing up, Star attended every carnival with her parents. During her father's first term as deputy mayor, it had been a political outing. Starlee wasn't allowed to be seen with anyone other than her parents. She couldn't be seen hanging around with the town hoodlums. Star always found a moment to sneak away though. The carnival brought back so many beautiful memories for Starlee and she was more than excited to get to go this year. She finished getting dressed in her denim cut-offs, and her red crop top and slipped her feet into a pair of sandals. Grabbing her keys and her sunglasses she walked out of her door and headed off toward the fairground.The different smells of the carnival greeted Star first. There were the sweet smells; churros, fried everything, and Starlee's ultimate favorite. As she approached the cotton candy stall. It was the most nostalgic part of the carnival for Star. She smiled as she slid the money down and stood back to wait for her light as air spun sugar. While the pink was prettier to look at, she always thought the blue cotton candy tasted better. Pinching off a bit she let the sugar dissolve on her tongue as she navigated her way through the different people. She could tell that some people recognized her. She was sure there were whispers as she walked by, but the truth was that Starlee didn't care. She could let them talk, let them whisper. She was eating her favorite sweet treat, and walking around a fairground she never thought she would see again. Sure, this was a celebration for America but deep down, Star believed it was a celebration for herself as well.Starlee loved seeing all the happy people. The carnival was the perfect way to bring people together, even if it was only for one day. She walked past the various game stalls. The ones where parents would drop giant amounts of cash to appease their screaming child. Everyone trying to win one of the top prizes. The sight brought back so many fond memories of herself as a child, trying desperately to win the goldfish in the middle of the cluster of glass vases. Chuckling to herself, Star moved along. She tossed her empty cotton candy away as she passed a trash can and made a second stop to buy some lemonade. The evening was wearing down, and bright lights were starting to twinkle all around her. People were passing by her heading toward the field at the pack of the fairgrounds. That was the best spot to view the fireworks that would be lighting up the sky later on that night.Starlee could hear familiar music and knew what she would come to when she rounded the next bend. In the middle of the fairgrounds stood the only way Star would be found on a horse. The carousel was like a beacon of hope for Starlee. Her whole life she had been terrified of real horses, but the frozen, galloping horses of the carousel seemed to fill her with joy. She sipped on her lemonade, as she put herself in line. It had been ten years, and Star was now a grown adult. She needed this circular ride to make her feel like the kid she was when she was stripped of the life that she knew. She could help but smile as the horse she sat upon moved up and down, the lights blurring just a little as she twirled around. The music ringing in her ears just added to the nostalgia. She could have stayed on the ride all night, but there was still so much to see before the night was over.The ride stopped and the children filed out in front of her, like a little parade to find their parents and move on to the next ride. She kept walking along the dirt path until she came upon another popular attraction of the carnival. It was a little petting zoo where people could reach over a fence and pet a few baby animals. It was like a magnet pulling her in. Reaching down, she scratched the head of a sleepy baby goat before she moved along on her way. The air smelled of sweet southern barbecue and the paths were lined with flowing American flags. It was all leading to the final stop of the carnival. The crowded pathways opened up in the crisp green field. People were already gathered, as the sun was nearly set. To her left, was the Ferris wheel loaded with people who were waiting to watch the fireworks from their dangling chairs. Starlee found a pile of wooden boxes and took a seat. Just as she did, a single red light filled the air, signaling the show was about to begin.


07/05/2020 06:38 PM 

Activity Check - July 5, 2020

ACTIVITY CHECK, July 5, 2020 Character development!  For this activity check, we want to know about your character's living space this week (can be any room, i.e. bedroom, kitchen, bathroom).  So the activity goes as follows; search the internet for pictures that will best express your character's area of living. Keep in mind your locations in Valkery based on which group you are a part of, people, rioter, etc. After finding this image of what you feel would be a living space for your character, please do the following: Write a drabble (at least 5-10 sentences) describing the room underneath the picture.  Get creative! You can write what you'd like about the room but feel free to describe it and how your character feels in this space. Once you have posted this in a bulletin, please comment this blog with the link to the drabble!  We would love to see what you come up with!This is due in one week (July 12, 2020) before 5PM EST.  If you have any questions, please ask one of your moderators!

Fʟᴏᴡᴇʀ Cʜɪʟᴅ

07/05/2020 05:50 PM 

The Truth

There’s a pounding sound. A deep dark pounding sound. I’ll never forget it. I’m laying on the waterbed, entangled with Astrid’s muscled legs. I turn over and I’m engulfed in my lovers body as she snuggles close to me, mumbling something in her sleep. We finally have our own place, and it’s a small little place in Burbank and close enough to my uncle that I can visit him at work. “Make it stop.” I moan. We’ve partied too much this weekend and the evidence is clear from the vodka bottles and beer cans that decorate our bedroom.   The knocking doesn’t stop. Astrid groans, curses and throws her pillow. I know not to bother her when she’s angry. I back away because she is her father’s daughter even if she looks more like her mother. She rises and gets up naked. Astrid has never been ashamed of her body like I often have, and why not? She’s slim in all the right places, firmed and muscled where she needs to be. She slips on some basketball style shorts and a tank. Her fingers grab at her cigarette case and she fumbles for one. “F***ing hell!” Astrid yells. She looks over at me. “If this is your f***ing uncle...”   I shrink back. “No. He’d call first.” I say. I’m naked too and I pull our covers up to my armpits. “I’ll be right back.” Astrid says through the cigarette she’s got in her mouth unlit. I nod. I watch her go and this is the last time my life is normal. I hear muted voices, Astrid’s cursing. “Star!” She screams.   On wooden legs I manage to slip into my skirt and a tee shirt and head into the living room. It’s like moving underwater and in slow motion—I see the police cuff Astrid and read her rights. One starts towards me and Astrid yanks back. “No! She had nothing to do with it. She didn’t know!”   I shrink back again. “What’s going on?”   “You’re under arrest for helping in the murder of Sharon Tate, Jay Sebring, Abigail Folgers...” the first police officer said as he read off the names. I feel sick. I touch the stone railing near the door. “Astrid?”   “It’s nothing.” Astrid turns a bit as the police officer shoves her forward. “It’s nothing, Star. your uncle. I’ll need a good lawyer.”   *** I smoke up all my cigarettes, do all the pot. Once I’m high and relaxed I call my Uncle Tar and tell him what happened. In an hour he is over at the apartment, dressed in his Bermuda shorts, polo shirts and Pukka Shell necklace like he’s a tourist in Hollywood. “Did she do it?” He asks me and helps himself to Astrid’s expensive liquor cabinet. He makes me a drink and slides it to me.   “I don’t know. She told me she didn’t.” I’m chain smoking like a freight train and every time I try to light a cigarette, my hands shake.   “Here.” My uncle takes it from me and lights one. I inhale. “Drink some vodka. It’ll warm ya up and keep ya steady. Pack a bag. You can stay with me and Vivienne tonight. She misses you.” Vivienne Adare is his newest muse and girlfriend. She’s a thirty year old German model with a thick accent and big breasts. I’ve got to admit to myself that Tar has good taste in women. I’ve seen Vivienne study me as I secretly check her out, my eyes fleeing back to Astrid. She smiles and never says nothing and never treats me any differently but I know she knows.   I don’t listen to the news, though Tar turns it on. I’m sipping straight vodka, no chaser, no flavor. It stings my throat and burns the whole way down and I cry quietly into my tumbler.   It’s said the last of the “Manson Women” have been arrested for the murders of the Tate Fraction. With shaky fingers I pluck at a cigarette and set it down. Astrid’s pale face flashes before me on the news, and I watch as she’s being lead inside the jail. I know she’ll be in with Squeaky, Sadie and the others but I can’t help but worry for her.   Astrid’s genealogy is revealed and her life is exposed. I am exposed with it as detailing of being her “lesbian lover”. I cringe and soon enough my apartment duplex is surrounded with the press. Tar peers out the windows. “We gotta do a distraction.”   “How?” I ask. I grab a bottle. I’m going to get so f***ed up I can’t remember anything.   “I got this.” Tar waves a hand. “Pack.” He demands of me.   I head into our bedroom and grab a few things at random. I grab one of Astrid’s shirts that still smell like her and stuff it into my bag and then the stuffed Panda she recently got me because I love them. I try not to cry. Cosmetics and personal items are next. I leave everything else.   I hear gunshots outside. “What the hell, Tar?”   “Go through the back. Down the fire escape.” He’s laughing and I know he’s high on acid. Grumbling I follow my uncle down the fire escape to his Pontiac Firebird Sky Bird in Powder Blue. It’s his baby though Tar has promised it to me as a wedding present if Astrid and I ever get married. Astrid loves this car and when Tar lets us we cruise the hills in it, radio loud listening to Conway Twitty at full blast.   We make it into the car. Uncle Tar puts it in drive and we slide out unscathed.   *** I sleep for what feels like days and I do not wake until Vivienne is forcing soup into my hands. She stares down at me in concern her words thick and heavily accented with her German. “You drink Dis.” She says. “It is special soup from Germany. Make you well again.”   I take it. I sip it and make a face. “What the f*** is in it?” It’s salty, thick and overpowering.   “Family secret.” She grins and pats my face. “You be well now. Drink more little Star shine.”   I drink as much as I can muster and she soon exchanges this for some German vodka and hands it to me. That I take willingly and drain almost half until it feels like it will come back up. She stops me and pulls away. “Shower. You stink. Need to get pretty again.”   I can’t deny that. On shaky legs she helps me to the shower. “Thank you.” I say humbly.   “Astrid is killer no?” Vivienne asks me. She pulls clothes out, inspects them and tosses them back. “Hippie clothing. Let me get you something.” That last part is spoke in Good English and soon she comes back with a stylish black eyelet dress for me. “I can’t--”   “You take it now.” She insists. She stands outside the door to make sure I take a shower. The hot water feels good and I soon use the bath lotion and other things she’s brought me. Once I am done and dried off I slip into the black eyelet lace dress. It fits me perfectly. I clip the red belt on. “OK. I’m done.”   Vivienne opens the door and nods. “Beautiful. With that hair, gorgeous.” She flips my red hair behind my back. “Now you ready to face world.”   I am not so sure about that. I’ve had no contact with Astrid in over 78 hours, the longest we have ever been apart.   But I follow Vivienne out into the mansion. Uncle Tar is in his office down the hall, I can smell pot as it comes from the crack in the door. He’s laughing at something. Music is playing, The Doors are talking about the End.   And it’s an appropriate song because I feel like it’s the End for me. My lover has been arrested for the murders of Sharon Tate and her friends after promising me she had nothing to do with it, she wasn’t like her father. I feel sick again thinking about it.   “You go see her?” Vivienne was leaning against the wall smoking.   “I don’t know.”   “See her. You get truth. And money.”   I raise my eyes towards her. “I don’t want money. I have enough of that.”   She smiles. “Never enough.” She says around her black cigarette, imported from Russia. “You learn soon. You want woman to stay? You do what need to be done. You get kept. She wants you, that’s easy to see. But being kept...” Vivienne rolled her hand. “Like your uncle. Easy to form. Men are so. They like it. Makes them feel good. With women? I know not. But that one has eyes for you. Use to advantage.” She suggests.   I did need to know the truth. I nod a moment and grab a bottle of imported vodka excusing myself for the guest office. I can still hear Uncle Tar’s laughter, smell the sweet scent of pot. I make a call to the California Women’s Prison.   *** I am scheduled a visit. It shall not be televised, no cameras. It will just be me and Astrid. Tar has pulled strings for this. He wants us both comfortable and has told me to carry a recorder. I did not want to but then thought better of it.   I have never been inside a prison. I’m shaking at being checked out, at the insults Astrid has have to endure without me. Soon I am lead into the room where we can visit. No cameras, nothing but my tape recorder. Feeling bad I put it on the table top. Soon she comes out. In her orange jumpsuit she looks smaller. She does not look so big as she used to, and her swagger is somewhat diminished. Her hair is buzzed a bit and she has a bruise on her right eye.   “What happened?!” I exclaim and rise to my feet. “Who hit you?”   A guard pulls the longer cord from her but keeps her hands in chains. I run to hug her and Astrid leans into me. I feel her smelling me, as if committing my smell to memory and I am glad I wore her favorite scent; her nose brushes against my shoulder up to my neck and I feel for a second her sweet lips in the middle part.   “Nobody.” Astrid glances down at the recorder. “What the hell is that?”   “Tar wanted me to take it. I am not using it.” I say. We are left alone after this. I hear the slide of keys, of bars against metal.   She smiles a bit and sits down. I sit down too. My stomach is in knots and I wish I had smoked some before I left. “As, what happened?”   She looks away. Astrid does not speak for long, long moments. Enough to chill a body. “You know who I was when we got together.”   This does not help. My stomach clenches together. I feel fire burning in my throat. Fire is burning in my eyes, stinging hot tears trapped. “No.”   “Is this thing on?” Astrid takes the recorder and fiddles with it. I shake my head and she sets it down “Good. I can never betray Charlie. To betray Charlie is death.” She says softly.   “Are you really his daughter?” I want to reach for her hands and I do so. Astrid closes her eyes, I see her lower mouth tremble as she claps mine. Her fingers lovingly brush over mine sending chills up me.   “Yes.” Astrid’s eyes are on mine. “I f***ing miss you.”   This is a true statement. I can see it, feel it. I hold her hands tighter.   “I miss you too. I’m staying at Tar’s.” I whisper.   “With the German Boob?” We both laugh at that, as Astrid says Vivienne makes her uncomfortable too.   “Both of them.” I don’t tell her what the German Boob has told me about being kept. I smile and try to make this visit good for her. “Did you do it?” My face breaks a little and I can feel tears slip from it.   “Star...”   “Did you help kill her? She was pregnant, As.” I whisper. “Eight months. Did you help end her life and her friends? They were innocent!”   “Innocent!” Astrid drops my hands and turns. “Nobody is ever innocent!” Then she pauses, and begrudgingly adds. “But you, I’d never let anyone hurt you. I never let Tex and I wouldn’t let Charlie.”   This makes me feel sick. “What do you mean?”   “You know. The women in his group. They both wanted to...wanted to f*** you. I fell in love with you and I kept you. You’re mine!” She exclaims, and pounds the table top.   I jump a little. Her anger is nothing new, but in this place it’s amplified. I knew about Tex, he made it no secret he wanted me. He’d even tried a few times to molest me and I managed to get away. Charlie I didn’t know about and I felt sick, like I wanted to throw up. I manage to suck in a breath of air, though.   “Go home, Star. Please talk to your uncle to get me out.” She doesn’t answer my question. I let go of her hands feeling sick. What if my lover had been responsible for hurting that poor woman and her friends? Could I live with it? Could I excuse Astrid?   It’s heavy on the soul. A feeling I can’t describe. I rise and Astrid’s blue eyes meet my brown ones. “I love you, Star.” She whispers. “My star shine.” She reaches a hand to me and my body aches. I feel myself kind of break.   “I’ll come back.” I say. “I have to go now, though. I’ll come back next week.”   “Squeaky Fromm says hi.” Astrid’s voice is hoarse. “And she misses you.”   It’s the last thing I hear as I leave the prison my entire body shaking from the feelings.  

Fʟᴏᴡᴇʀ Cʜɪʟᴅ

07/05/2020 05:49 PM 

The Beat Goes on

I remember this day, because we are both smiling. Looking at the faded photograph it’s hard to believe some of the women we are standing with on that bus became the cold hard murders they did. I no longer want to have anything to do with them, except for one and try to push it out of my mind. We believed in him, he was everything to us. As my mother, Butterfly said “Charlie is our God now. We listen to him.” As a young woman growing up within this cult it was something I began to believe was my mother’s rosary chant.My mother never allowed me to call her “Mother” or even “Mom” or “Mama”. It was always Butterfly. She was born Tabitha Sylvia Reed and she rebelled from an early age. I knew from what my mother had told me I was born out of wedlock which her parents, my grandparents hated. My father was an unknown figure, someone who had went on to Hollywood hoping to make it big in the movies. Butterfly and I were nothing but vagabonds. We stayed with her friends until they asked us, or made Butterfly leave. And she was addicted to everything by then; Weed, alcohol, acid you name it. I know she used to whore herself out for whatever she couldn’t get and then use me in the attempts to get us food because I needed to eat. Older gentlemen are a memory in the recesses of my young brain I did not like.I don’t think none of them ever touchme but seeing them slobber on Butterfly turn me way off the whole Adam and Eve thing. I am a rebel at a young age and Butterfly used to say I was like her brother who had left home at an early age to join the army right after she got pregnant. His name was Tarren and he went by Tar, and was just like Tar—thick and stubborn. They were fraternal twins who in childhood had been super close. People used to poke fun at their relationship and Butterfly at age fourteen told Tar they had to have sepearete rooms. Butterfly used to wonder if she was the reason Tar became the way he did.Other than that the only relation I ever hear Butterfly talk about is her first cousin, Jerry Reed. And by then he is a famous singer. I am his second cousin and she has snapped a picture once of me sitting on his knee at a family reunion. He is teaching me to guitar pick and I guess it must have stuck with me because music is what I live for. I think it’s one of the reasons Charlie would later take me and Butterfly in. That, and Butterfly’s loose ways with men. Much like with Dianne Lake he would have sex the moment they met. The other women in the group took to me and tried to distract me. Very early on we all form a bond.For a while we drift with Charlie and the girls and hit it big with Brian Wilson of the Beach Boys. His wife would take pity on me and take me shopping with his children and buy me clothes and accessories. Butterfly often take the hair ties, jewelry and whatnots she buys for me and sells them for drugs. The clothes I got to keep. One thing Brian’s wife buys me is a mood ring and I hide it from Butterfly. I still have it to this day and keep it in a keep sake pouch. I have given it to my lover as a present for our past and they wear it on a chain now around their neck.But eventually our good luck runs out. It was about the 70’s then and I am growing up. I am almost a teen and needed something more stable. I think Butterfly thinks about sending me to her parents but Charlie told her no. He likes me and he was teaching me how to play The Beatle’s song. He calls me his little Nightingale and would have me lead the singoffs at night. He doesn’t want to loose me. This is before Charlie became the darker spector we all know and so in a way he was kind of fatherly to me. That was before we got Spahn Ranch.***Spahn Ranch is massive. We soon establish a life here, nestled in the California hills. It is a paradise of sort for all hippies. We live in a commune. We wash each other’s clothes, cook each other’s meals and look after each other’s children. The ranch still has movie sets, and it was a paradise for children and even teens such as myself. A few b rated movies were still being made there, but nothing that would create a superstar. We even give daily tours and take care of the horses.During this time Charlie’s brought in a few others with him and one is labeled as possibly his daughter, or a relative. It is never revealed to the Family as what. I recall the day that we met. She is wearing a long tie dye skirt and a black tank top. Her hair is cut short, boyish pixie like Twiggy’s and she wears bright blue eye shadow. Around her neck is the Yin Yang Symbol. She is skinny as a flute and her face bright red as though she’d spent time in the sun. As Charlie makes his introductions our eyes met and then she looks away. I’m with Butterfly holding onto the neck of my old acoustic guitar I’ve named Betty.“She was watching you.” Butterfly whispers to me. “That’s good. She is Charlie’s daughter.”“How do you know?” I’m always the first to question everything. My mother sighs and pinches me, her form of making me behave. I smirk to myself. I have just rooted through her things earlier and found her weed, smoking a lot of it. I’m high as a kite and feeling really good. Right now I wouldn’t mind a stiff drink, though.“If Charlie says so it’s what it means.” She whispers back. I shrug and there’s a speech going on. Sometimes Charlie speaks truthful words, sometimes he rambles. Today is a rambling day. I see Squeaky From and she winks at me making me chuckle though Butterfly pinches me again. She does not like Squeaky or Sadie, or any of the women close to Charlie. Butterfly is jealous. She’s not in the “in” circle. Her sexual powers over Charlie wore off quickly so she sucks up to Tex, Charlie’s right hand. I don’t like Tex. He has dark eyes that remind me of the night sky without a cloud and stares at me as though he’d like to eat me up.I am the devil and I’m here to do the devil’s work.


07/04/2020 10:01 PM 

Owes List.

I OWE YOUJuliet-S-7-5-20YOU OWE ME


07/05/2020 12:30 PM 


Some of us have to make mistakes. Some of us have to get our hands a little bloody sometimes. Some of us are STILL human!No matter what happens, this boy will always be my best friend.  I love you, Stiles!Forever & Always. ♡(Roni & Stiles)

deity, chaos, void, pain, teenwolf, riverdale, supernatural, thevampirediaries,


07/05/2020 12:28 PM 

owes list:

IOU Lizzie Barnett {s}Sadie Montgomery {s}Here hereUOM: Here here Here hereHere here updated on Jul 5th, 2020

S.E.C. Members

07/05/2020 12:24 PM 

July Drabble 2020

“In Another Life…”For the month of July, the theme will revolve around your character being transported into another verse, world or dimension. It’s up to you to describe how your character reacts and if they find their way back home or not. How did they end up in this strange place? What challenges do they face along the way? How do they find their way back home? We would love to see what you come up with!Drabbles are due by 11:59pm on July 31st!

𝑭𝒓𝒆𝒆 𝑯𝒖𝒈𝒔,

07/05/2020 06:58 PM 

A New Life.

In the end Hux's plan had worked out... let's say, semi-well? At least he was still alive, right? That had to count for something. "We're survivors, Millie... And fugitives." A rare, very rare, chuckle broke through his lips as his green eyes briefly moved to appraise his ginger cat that was sitting curled up comfortably on the co-pilot's seat. She opened one of her eyes lazily and if cats could roll their eyes, she would be doing that right now. Instead she stared at him for a short second before deciding to close her eyes again. What a diva... Though Phasma often pointed out that they had that trait in common. Phasma... as much as he pretended to be a heartless prick, he hoped she'd be alright. She was the only person he could call a friend. Maybe someday they would meet again. However, Hux wasn't one to believe in fate or any silly notions like that. He was a pragmatic man. Still... He snorted, leaning back in the chair as he watched the dark sky behind the glass in front of him. They passed stars and planets as the ship took them to the coordinates he had typed in earlier. He didn't care where they went, he was on the run, both from the First Order and the Resistance. So somewhere far away from anyone he knew was the destination. A planet at the edges of the Unknown Regions. From prior research he discovered that the population count appeared to be small. They were neutral when it came to the war, criminals mostly that needed a place to stay low. Once he had been exposed as the Resistance spy and almost killed by Pryde, he turned the tables and shot the a**hole instead. Hux had been prepared for a while now, wearing a special type of lightweight armour underneath his usual uniform. He was aware of having enemies in the First Order, some people itching to pull the trigger on him. Him being a spy would come out sooner or later, he wasn't stupid nor blinded with arrogance. Watching Pryde crumble to the floor and bleed to death had been an immensely satisfying experience. The older man had been a persistent thorn in his side ever since Hux was a child. Just like his father he was out to torment him. But now it was over and Hux had won. He had smirked cruelly down at Pryde, lifting his leg before pressing his booted foot into the bleeding wound, making him writhe with agony. "I win. Burn in hell, a**hole," he bit out harshly, his heart beating painfully fast against his chest with adrenaline. Hux didn't have time to watch the light of life disappear from Pryde's eyes, so with one last hard kick to his side, the former general made his exit. He couldn't stay here, he wouldn't be trusted. No matter who sympathized with him, the First Order and keeping it intact was still the top priority to everyone. Somehow Hux had managed to flee to his ship and he realized how much he had missed being actively engaged in a fight. It hurt having to shoot at his stormtroopers, but he wanted to survive, minor sacrifices needed to be made. This was his story. And now here he was, on his way to a new life. Hux had never imagined for things to turn out this way, his plan had been to lead the First Order to victory and then rule over the galaxy. But Kylo Ren came along and destroyed his plans. He would never listen or take orders from him, it was distasteful, unthinkable. He was a mere child throwing temper tantrums left and right, not caring about anyone but himself. Hux believed in the First Order and the convictions that came with it, he didn't believe in a First Order with Kylo Ren as their Supreme Leader. Hux felt a sudden sense of crushing disappointment. He had messed up. Now that he was on the run he wouldn't be able to defeat Kylo and save the First Order from being destroyed. He couldn't risk it... But Phasma was still there and she had proved to him countless of times that he could rely on her. Even with this revelation in mind, he felt the fire of resentment and self-hatred burning within his chest. He failed. He failed to reach his goal. Sometimes he craved to release his anger and frustration like he had witnessed Kylo do, destruction, raw emotions brought to the surface by the vehicle of violence, no restraints. But he couldn't, he never learned how. He learned to bottle up everything, so that's what he did now. He swallowed thickly, a few times, his hands clenching and unclenching. A startled gasp left his lips. His lap was now filled with an additional, warm weight in form of his ginger cat. She nudged her head against his belly, pressing herself against him and he reached down to pet her. Some of the tension left him and he felt grateful for taking her with him on this journey. His lips twitched into a barely there smile. "Patience is a virtue, Millie," he said, as they sat together and he continued petting her. ****** It took awhile for everything to sink in. He wasn't sure what made it feel more real. Was it when he looked into his reflection in the mirror and saw the freshly dyed brown hair? Was it when he walked into his new, dirty, tiny apartment and realized that he hadn't lived inside an actual apartment since his childhood? Was it when he had to use a fake name in order to rent the apartment? Not that anyone would care about his true identity here. Everything felt so foreign and suddenly what he before thought was a new start, made his chest feel like there was a stone weighing him down. He slumped down onto the small bed, it was hard and uncomfortable. He buried his fingers in his hair, in a gesture of frustration... It was probably many things at once that made him realize how much he had lost and how little he had now. Everything he had worked towards was gone... He didn't know who he was if he wasn't part of the First Order, if he wasn't a general. He was starting to panic and he knew it, he hadn't had a panic attack so long. Hux tried to even out his breathing. He could do this. He would make his life work, he always did, no matter what. Millicent jumped onto the bed next to him and she pressed herself against his side, purring softly. He let out a breath and lost track of how long he just sat there and stared at the grey, cracked wall in front of him. For the next few days he didn't leave the room. He had some food rations in the bag he had taken with him, so he wasn't starving, not that he was hungry anyway. He was in some weird, dark crisis and he was embarrassed by himself over it, but he couldn't help it... He was allowed to feel sorry for himself for a few days, right? Hux was nibbling at a rations bar that was supposed to taste like cheese cake, he had no idea how cheese cake even tasted, as he gazed out off the window. The street was empty and dark, the other days he looked outside this planet appeared to be too sunny for his tastes. But as long as it kept him safe and incognito he could handle a little sunburn once he dared to step out. Sitting in his own home exile he thought a lot about how he could live his life now. It presented many opportunities for him, opportunities of freedom and of trying to be someone he wanted to be but never had the chance to be during the course of the last years. The first thought was finding work as a mechanic. It had always been something he was good at. And he had fun doing it. But he could imagine something more thrilling, too... A mercenary, a gun for hire? It was a childish dream, the way pretending to be a Jedi knight had been. He was good with a weapon though, maybe slightly out off practice, because he hadn't needed to use it for a while. He would figure this out. How difficult could it be? All he really had to do for now was avoid getting captured and executed. Everything else would fall into place. ****** Armitage gasped as someone pat him on the shoulder, though considering the force of it, it was more a hit than a pat. It made him stumble forward slightly, but he managed to steady himself. He frowned darkly and looked up from the rusty droid he was trying to repair. His frown deepened when he saw it was one of his annoying co-workers. Maker, he hated this... "Damn, if looks could kill, right? Chill, Valin. You really need to loosen up, man." Hux wanted to strangle him so bad. Barnab was an a**hole, so similar to the people who used to bully him when he was a kid and later a teenager. They kept making fun of him for being so uptight, for being a prude. In the end he got to have his sweet revenge on them, it was certainly sweet when he could watch their terrified faces as they realized they were going to die by his hand. And he framed it all so it looked like an accident. He took a few deep breaths to stop himself from lashing out at Barnab. Hux wasn't Kylo after all. Particularly not, because he wasn't dead. A secretive smirk formed on his lips as the thought graced his mind. It was most likely his favorite thought to have, especially since it was one of the few positive things in his life currently. Kylo Ren was dead. Sure, he wished it was him, who arranged his death, he would've made it more dramatic, too, and it would've felt so kriffing good, but all that mattered was that he was gone. The downside was that the Resistance had actually won. Hux cheered himself up thinking that it happened because he hadn't been there to keep the First Order together and accomplish the victory they deserved. With him commanding their actions there was no doubt they would be ruling the galaxy right now. But alas, he had been here on Fandri, hiding. He didn't feel ashamed for running away, his life had been at stake. He wouldn't be able to help the First Order if he was dead. Everything was his strategic plan. For now he would stay here and wait and when the time was right he would destroy the Republic once and for all. He was a man, who held onto his grudges and never let go until he achieved payback. What greater payback would there be than one from a dead man? "What do you want, Barnab?" Irritation was dripping from his words like the sweat down his back. The climate on Fandri was tropical, the air wet with heat. And Hux was sweaty and dirty, even though he had been on this planet for a while he hadn't gotten used to it yet. He wiped his forearm over his forehead, pushing back some strands of his brown hair. "First of all, your freaky cat is scaring me." He grimaced saying that, his eyes warily focused on Millicent, who was sitting next to Hux in his shadow. He was proud when he looked at her and saw her having a stare down with his annoying co-worker. Clearly Millie was winning. He reached out to pet her. "Well, I would watch out if I were you..." "Yeah, right. Anyway, I wanted to ask if you'd like to come to a bar later today with some of the guys?" Hux's eyes widened for a second before narrowing. He didn't trust Barnab... But what could happen? He wasn't a kid anymore and it had been a while since he was at a bar. He shrugged his shoulder, focusing back on the droid. "Sure." The sun was hot on his back, he couldn't wait to have a shower. "Okay, cool. Later!" "Yeah, whatever." He rolled his eyes. Millie nudged her head against his leg, nuzzling herself against it. Hux couldn't wait to rule over the galaxy and for all of this to be done with. Though he also couldn't stop the satisfied smile that appeared on his lips as the droid peeped and chirped to life.


07/05/2020 01:43 PM 

getting lost part ii. (drabble)

tw: depression, mentions of suicide   “Don’t do this, Wren.”I turn to see a transparent figure beside me. Her eyes, although faded, are just as warm as I remember. I’ve often wondered why she’s never appeared to me before, but always considered it to be a good thing. If I didn’t see her, it meant that she must have been at peace.And now she’s here.“What’s happening to me?”“You’re sad, darling. And these vengeful entities prey on sadness.” Her hand is hollow and cold as she places it upon my cheek. “They will push you to the edge of the cliff and cheer when you jump.”“I don’t know what to do.”“Don’t miss the chance to bond with your child. If I had been a good mother to you, maybe you wouldn’t feel this way now.”I purse my lips, gaze falling from her translucent frame. “I don’t want my feelings to affect the baby.”“Did you care that I was sick? That I was depressed? That I laid in bed all day?”“No. I just…wanted to be with you.”“Precisely. Your child doesn’t care if you’re sad, if you’re sensitive, or if you’re followed by these horrid spirits. Children just want their parents. They want to feel loved.” Her finger-tips grasp my chin and lift it so that I’m forced to look at her. “Be better than I was. She’s going to be an empath like you, darling. Your presence won’t affect her negatively. She will need you.”“I’m going to have a daughter?” Gender doesn’t matter to me of course, but I can’t deny my heart’s leap of joy when hearing that I’m going to have a little girl. My thoughts immediately shift to my impending doom. She’ll only be three months old when I die. “Sh-she won’t even remember me.”“She is a special child, Wren. Born of magic. She will remember you and she will miss you for her entire life.”“Really?” My voice is cracking when I speak.“Truly. Be kinder to yourself. Do you really think anyone would be able to keep a level head when they see what you see?”I shrug. Can’t say I have any frame of reference, though I’m quite certain that anyone would handle this better than me. “I don’t know. I don’t…know anyone else like me.”She tilts her head, her long, brown hair flowing despite the absence of a breeze. “Have you considered that your daughter may never meet another empath? Amory will be a wonderful father, and he will teach her a great many things, but he doesn’t know what it’s like to be an empath.”I understand what she’s saying, I just don’t see how I’ll be able to have an impact on my daughter’s life during such a brief period of time. “How will I teach her if…if I’m going to die?”“Why don’t you write about your experiences? Or, better yet, you could open up to the father of your child. Tell him what it’s like for you so that when the time comes, he can pass along advice from you.”Opening up? I hate doing that. I can never make sense of my feelings, so I’ve never figured out how to express them. “I don’t like talking about myself.”“Then don’t think of it as talking about yourself.” She smiles softly. “Think of it as helping your little girl.”Blinking back tears, I think of how much my mother has missed. I wish we could have spoken openly about our abilities. I wish she had been there when I needed her. I wish she hadn’t killed herself.These entities are trying to spoil the few months of life that I have left. They don’t want me to have anything good. No matter what they say, no matter how many times they attempt to convince me to hurt myself, I have to remember what’s important. My daughter needs me. It’s just difficult to convince myself that I’m worth something when I don’t believe it and there are so many voices telling me otherwise.“I’ll try to do better.” I swallow hard. “I’ll try to be good.”“You are good, Wren. I should have told you that. I should have made sure that you believed it. You deserved to have better parents and a better life.” Mother takes me into her arms. While I can’t physically feel the full gesture, the effort still brings comfort. “Be everything for your child that I couldn’t be for you.”She steps back and tries to wipe away my tears, but it’s a futile effort. Even if her form had been solid, it wouldn’t matter; they just keep falling onto my cheeks.“Tell the father of your child that these spirits are trying to convince you to kill yourself, and that he might need to keep an eye on you.”I grimace and shake my head. She’s asking me to be more vulnerable than I’ve ever been, and not only that, but to ask someone to take care of me. That isn’t fair. “I don’t want to be a burden.”“Only you think of yourself that way. It’s okay if you need other people to remind you of your worth.” Mother raises her brow. “Remember, you’re doing this for your daughter. Your time together is already limited. You do whatever you have to in order to secure that time with her.”“I’ll try.” If I’m doing this for my child, and not myself, then maybe…I can be brave enough. “Will you come back?”“I hope that I don’t have to.”Mother embraces me and I try to hug her back, but I’m not sure if she can feel it. She disappears and I’m alone again. It’s only a matter of time before those voices return.The entities have lost this round. For now, I can put away the rope and the knife. But how long will it be until they convince me to pick them up again?


07/05/2020 12:44 PM 



queen tings.

07/05/2020 12:40 PM 

journal entry ( 7.4.20 )

journal entry ; july 4, 2020 : Today was beautiful. I was able to spend time with my family. My mother threw down in the kitchen with ease. Of course I went back for seconds...okay I'll admit it, thirds. In the words of Miss Tabitha Brown, that's my business. Even though we had a wonderful time today, I can't help but feel myself becoming overwhelmed with anxiety about tonight. I was already forced to endure fireworks from the night before as people began to set them off in preparation for the fourth. Don't get me wrong, fireworks are beautiful. I just don't appreciate the similarities in sound between them and bombs. But there's no getting around it. It is literally an explosive in itself, except it is not meant to cause harm. Rather, brighten the light that has remained occasionally dim over society; bringing people together. Although it has this affect for a brief moment, it's a very nice sight to see. I guess I'll have to succumb to the same form of comfort as I've done for the last 15 years. I will admit, there has been some progress. It's very minor, but it's better than nothing. My therapist suggested I start writing in a journal several years ago and it's helped me since. Not only with opening up about my fear of fireworks, but even through instances of heartache. That's a follow up entry for another day though. I think I spent more than enough time getting my feelings out on that and there's no need to revisit the situation. It's simply time to move on. And maybe this is the encouragement I need... it's finally time to stop revisiting the past and move on from ALL of my fears. Fear of fireworks. Fear of being vulnerable.  Fear of love. Fear of rejection.Fear of disappointment... 

The Awakening MOP

07/05/2020 12:13 PM 

Point system

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