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#before reblogging with an annoying addition ask yourself: is it appropriate
scoobydoodean · 1 year
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About Me Being a Jackass
So. As some of you saw, the other day I fucked up. I am not going to apologize for the fact that something offended me or for my opinion, but I am sorry for how I addressed it. Regardless of how much or little offense what someone else said made me feel, I am the bigger asshole at the end of the day, because I perpetuated a message that screenshotting people’s tags to shit on them behind their back is okay.
@ original person involved: I haven't deleted my posts, because the nature of Tumblr is that other copies of what happened remain on various blogs regardless, and I didn’t want you to feel like I was trying to hide what was said at least until I had made this post establishing that I am the asshole. However, I will go back and hide everything from being visible to randoms opening the notes to minimize the potential of you receiving grief from anyone, and if you would like me to, I will also DM this post to those who reblogged the original incident and ask them to delete their copies of it from their blogs. I can’t promise compliance, but I figure if I ask nicely as the OP, I might have decent luck.
Back to the general audience: I have a few lessons for myself here, and I hope you read them and consider learning from my mistakes too (if you aren't already too smart to be like my dumbass).
Never respond to something that annoyed, offended, irritated, or grossed you out at 3AM. This is, universally, a bad idea. This is something I actually know already, from my many years on the internet, so there isn't an excuse. I have had, "Oh thank god" moments before when waking up to look at things I decided the night before, to not put out into the world and to sit on instead to see how I felt about them the next morning. Rarely have I ever woken up no longer feeling negatively about what someone else said, but I at least wake up with a clearer head on the appropriate response to it. So don't do it. Just shut the fuck up and go to bed. You will save yourself from a lot of stupid decisions.
Never assume that using tags to comment on something means it won't get screenshotted and re-tagged with more note-passing-in-class-style commentary. The person who tagged my post didn't expect anyone to respond. They likely expected at most for their friends to maybe like it and maybe a reblog with '#prev'. I responded to the tags they didn't expect me to comment on while also tagging my addition for something and expecting it to stay on my blog and for nobody to reblog the tags I had added, which was fucking dumb considering the thing I literally just did is make somebody else's tags show hole.
Never assume that reposting something to a sideblog where you don't have very many followers is sufficiently private. It is still an online space. It is not private. If you MUST be upset and vent IMMEDIATELY because you CANNOT help yourself, send it in a DM to your friend instead.
Never assume that leaving off someone's username from their tags when you screenshot them is sufficient to protect that person's identity. Especially not when you are stupid and screenshot their tags on the very post where they tagged what they tagged. There is no excuse for me, because just the other day, I saw someone else post a screenshot of tags on one of their posts (in a separate post, to disagree with them) and almost reblogged it, but then realized that would spread it further around the circle and would feel like bullying to me because it was all being said behind their back. Then my dumbass went and did something that fostered an even more potentially harmful environment for another person... by doing the same thing on the actual post. To my knowledge, I don't believe anyone retaliated directly against the person in question through their mailbox or DMs (and if anyone did, I will lob a spear into your computer over wifi), but I created a potential that was very real for that to happen, and the actual outcome, where people were just shitting on them in my notes, was already bad enough. Just don't screenshot tags you don't like to talk about them, actually. Go to bed. Later on, maybe write your own post in your own words about the idea you saw that you didn't like (not the person who said the idea—the idea. The person is just a person). You'll have a clearer head then anyway and you'll be a lot more eloquent and level-headed.
If the joke you are telling by being snarky about someone's tags you screenshotted is "Haha now we are all mischaracterizing each other", don't go back 5 minutes later and tag what they said for biphobia. If you keep looking at what they said and find it offends you more and more because that's genuinely what you see in it regardless of what was intended, just delete your reblog. It isn’t like you’re having a fun time like you were 5 minutes ago. You are promoting something that makes you feel bad and you have figured out at least one reason why. Also, it will turn into accusations of someone being an evil irredeemable villain when other people pass it around to shit on the person for what they said and what you said about what they said and add more transgressions they committed to the list (see Part 2). If you believe something is intentionally and maliciously offensive (that wasn't the case here FYI) you still shouldn't put it on the dash imo because you'll be giving it a platform. You should block the person if you believe they're actually a bigoted asshole.
Remember that this is all media.
When an offended party's friend DMs you, and in the process of trying to defend their friend while extending an olive branch, actually hands you an olive branch full of spiders (i.e., saying more things that make you go 🙈) just don't respond and move on with your life. It isn't worth it. Tangentially: on the initial (before shit hit the fan) subject and everything you two have left me with as responses from the thread of the initial subject... I won't respond any further about our differing analysis, because I can tell you for a fact it won't be productive. Based on what has been said so far, and how each successive argument that has been brought up included more things that I vehemently disagree with in terms of how it frames a person's lived experiences and issues and how they define a person's value... we simply shouldn't continue talking about it. That doesn't mean I think you're bad people, but it does mean the conversation will only come with more bad vibes for all of us and more hurt feelings. Once again: sorry for being a flaming jackass.
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e-102 · 2 years
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i despise comics.
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terulakimban · 4 years
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Hey, I saw your post about stopping teenage boys from making racist jokes and I was wondering how I could get my brother to stop. He's 13 and I'm 16 and I don't think he cares about what I think of him all that much. How can I get him to stop?
A few points of clarity here. When I made my addition before reblogging that post, I had no idea what kind of traction it was going to get or how far past the handful of people I interacted with it was going to go. Had I known those things, I would have phrased things different, added the additional context I added in a later reblog, or, most likely, not added my own commentary at all. Other relevant bits for my situation. I was, in these contexts, the only adult in the room, I was very new to the whole “being an adult” thing, I had no formal training as an educator and much of what was being said was actively harmful to other children present who were also my responsibility. Some of those points are still applicable. Furthermore, I am one stranger on the internet, I do not know you, your brother, or child psychology, and you should not take my advice as gospel.  My goal in “shut down the racist/sexist crap” was not “change this child’s mind” it was “there are other children who are legitimately threatened by some of what is being said who should not be subjected to the discussion of why this behavior is inappropriate because they live it.” I also note in that post that I already had a working relationship as mentor-figure with the kids who listened. That’s important, but that relationship has to be allowed to develop organically and not with the goal of “eventually mold the child.” These were kids who liked and looked up to me not because I wanted them to but because I treated them respectfully and we did not have extreme conflicts of personality. You’re a kid yourself. I hope, for your sake, that there are adults in your life who are good at establishing that kind of relationship (additional note, I am using ‘relationship’ in this post exclusively in the “general pattern of interactions between two people” sense), but in case they aren’t, I’m going to touch on that in here too.  The last thing I had going for me was that every single one of these boys 1) did not actually believe most of the crap he was spouting 2) really did want approval and attention from an authority figure and 3) was saying it to fit in with other children who routinely threw similar back at him and were not present. (Relevant context there, these incidents were primarily in a Jewish education environment.) I also had the advantage of being able to pull the kid aside after the fact and essentially have a “dude, what gives, I’m not going to call you out in class but where is all that coming from” talk. So, with context out of the way, advice as relating to your brother: the short answer is that “you can’t.” At least not if the goal is just “make him stop” on its own and you two aren’t friends and he doesn’t look up to you in any capacity. Elephant in the room first: if he actually believes what he’s saying, that’s out of your paygrade; that’s when you rope in your applicable trusted grownups and contact an organization like Life After Hate for advice. The rest of this post is written with the assumption that he probably doesn’t believe most of the bigoted things he says but he’s either learned that saying them gets responses or just picked them up somewhere and never thought about it. No matter what, if you’re the only person in his life saying “that’s not acceptable”, you are fighting an uphill battle. It might well be a hill worth dying on, but it won’t be easy.  The long answer is: “does he have a reason to care about what you think”. Is your relationship with him generally positive? Negative? Neutral? Do you just kind of inhabit the same space and not interact? Based on the relationship you currently have, do you see the two of you still being in touch of your own volition and not because other relative demand it once you’re both adults and not living together? It’s perfectly fine to say “nah, we’re not close and we’ll probably go our separate ways once we can”. That is a thing that happens sometimes and it is not inherently a question of fault or blame. But if you’d rather not have that happen, if he’s generally someone you like being around who just... sometimes says out of line crap that you don’t want to hear or is annoying or... I dunno, eats the leftovers you were saving, then focus on your relationship with him, not a one-way thing where you try to fix his behavior and he ignores you for being annoying.  Things kids should hear, when appropriate, from older people in their lives: “I’m sorry.” “You were right and I wasn’t, it’s [XYZ].” “Can you tell me more about/explain [thing kid is interested in that older person knows less about].” “Y’know, I haven’t considered that before.” “Good idea.” “Well done.” “I’m proud of you.” “Please.” “Thank you.” “That’s a good question.” And those things should be said sincerely -and without making a big deal of them. In other words, kids need to be treated like people. Y’all deserve to have your feelings acknowledged. You know adults aren’t perfect. You know we screw up. It does you and us no favors to pretend otherwise most of the time. (Disclaimer: I have never worked with children under the age of six, and even my experience with kids that young is limited. I don’t know if it’s actually good for preschoolers to pretend adults are infallible.) You deserve encouragement, not just criticism, and you deserve to have your effort acknowledged, even when you fail. And here’s the thing: if your relationship with someone is an entirely unilateral thing where they list off what’s wrong about you and you are expected to sit there and take it, eventually, they will snap. They might snap towards anger and they might snap towards anxiety and they might snap in some other way entirely, but it is not sustainable in the long-term.  So with all of that in mind, the actual answer? “Put that aside for now and focus on being a reliable friend-figure to your brother, if that (the relationship) is actually a thing you want.” Spend a bit more time together (or less if you two are stuck with waaaaay too much family time right now). Ask him about a hobby or interest of his that you don’t share. Ask to join him with one you do. If he thinks your friends are generally cool and it’s just that you, personally, have sibling-ick, include him periodically when y’all do stuff. You don’t have the authority to just make him stop doing objectionable things. More importantly, as another child in his life, that’s not your job. Down the road, if you’ve got a working relationship going and he says something bigoted, you can ask -and I do mean ask (as in, as sincerely and non-judgmentally as you can) -where he got that from/why he says it/if he believes it and then listen to his answer and let the conversation flow from there. And that conversation is hard, and that conversation is scary and the first time I had it as the adult, I had a shitload of internal panic of “oh god what if I say the wrong thing” going on that I very carefully did not express because that was my problem, not the kid’s, and at that point the kid needed a grown-up to listen to what was going on in his life and I was the one who’d gotten picked. But there’s no easy mute button in real life. (Fact.) Authoritarian “because I said so” is usually not going to work and tends to backfire. (Opinion.)
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septemberpoems · 5 years
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Pact of the Shipper
You made a deal with a powerful entity way beyond your understanding. Blue eyes stare at you unblinking as you sign up for a life of servitude that could grant you immense power, but also mutually assured destruction. He gives you a Tumblr, the words Welcome to My Twisted Mind in purple letters on a black cover, the first page oddly listing all your interests and every page of the DSM-V remotely applicable to you.
His true name is David Karp, but you call him Daddy.
This is the Pact of the Shipper.
Cantrips:
Infestation Someone said something less-than-positive about your otp in the tag. They have anon asks enabled. Target has to make a con save or take 1d6 poison damage from your anon hate and, if it fails, is stunned for one round as they go on a short hiatus.
“Do you love the color of the sky?” (Lightning Lure) You throw out the aforementioned post at a creature you can see, forcing it to make a strength save to scroll through the entire thing. If it fails it’s forced to scroll all the way up again to click the old reblog, taking 1d8 psychic damage.
Create Dumpsterfire You conjure a dumpsterfire that fills a 5ft cube. Creatures must also make saving throws if they move into its space or end their turn there. The dumpsterfire will spread if the environment is susceptible.
Mutuals (Friends) Choose a creature you can see that isn’t hostile toward you. You gain advantage on charisma checks toward it for the duration. When the spell ends, the creature looks through your tumblr and discovers problematic discourse from two years ago, possibly attacking or getting other payback.
Spells
1st lvl Cause fear Target must succeed wis saving throw or become frightened of you. The target can repeat the saving throw at each end of its turn. The spell has no effect on deactivated accounts or pornbots.
Comprehend Keysmash You can understand any written language while the spell lasts. While you cannot discern the words of a spoken language, you understand the general gist of it and can respond in kind.
What colour is this dress? (Armor of Agathys) Blue and black? White and gold? Who knows. You gain 5 temporary hitpoints for the duration. If a creature hits you with a melee attack while you have them, it takes 5 cold or fire damage depending on what color you think it is.
2nd lvl Gpoy (Mirror image) Three posts appear, all of them of situations you’ve tagged with #Gpoy at some point. Each time a creature attacks you, roll a d20 to see if they hit the posts instead.
Mapcrunch (Misty Step) You teleport to the middle of a badly rendered forest. You have no sense of direction and have to rely on street signs to find your own way to the airport.
Suggestion You further a rumor you have no factual basis for to a creature of your choice that you can see and that can hear and understand you. You’re limited to 140 characters. Target makes a wisdom save. On failure, it spreads the rumor and goes on a rant.
3rd lvl All Hail the Glow Cloud (Gaseous Form) You turn a willing creature you touch and all it’s carrying into a mist for up to an hour.
The Ballpit (Hunger of Hadar) A 20-foot-radius void appears. All creatures in it get an extra hour in the ballpit. The void’s area is difficult terrain. Any creature that starts its turn in it takes 2d6 psychic damage. Any creature that ends its turn there must pass a dexterity save or take 2d6 poison damage from that one guy who peed in it.
Summon Lesser Demon You summon demons from the abyss. Roll to determine what appears: Clippy, Tumbeasts or a full copy of the script of Bee Movie in fanmail format.
4th lvl None of You Are Free of Sin (Banishment) Blocked, blocked, blocked. A creature you see must make a charisma save or be banished to another plane of existence.
I am Forcibly Removed From the Premises (Dimension Door) You instantaneously teleport yourself to any spot in range.
Summon Greater Demon You summon a demon of your choosing from the abyss. Boneghazi, Loss.jpg, and that daddy kink-cumsicle post are level-appropriate examples.
5th lvl Spooky Scary Skeletons (Dance Macabre) Up to five small or medium corpses you can see become undead, drafted to fight in the Skeleton War under your command for an hour. 
Hold Monster When is a monster not a monster? Oh, when you love it. Choose a creature you can see. It must pass a charisma save or be paralyzed. You tenderly hold the creature in your arms. At the end of its turn it can make another save, ending the embrace on a success. Or maintaining it, if the feelings are mutual.
London Calling (Infernal Calling) You summon Sherlock Holmes from the BBC adaptation. He appears in an unoccupied space that you can see, unfriendly toward you and your terribly dull companions. On your turn you can use a free action to attempt to issue a verbal command, your charisma check versus his insight. You have advantage if you know the actor’s real name as opposed to the Tumblrised versions.
Enervation You’re just that annoying. Choose a creature you see to make a dexterity save. On success it takes 2d8 psychic damage. On failure, the target takes 4d8 damage from bashing its own head against the wall to make your talking stop. Whenever the spell deals damage you regain hit points equal to half of the amount of damage taken.
6th lvl True Seeing You’re so far down the meta spiral you solved the Reichenbach Fall before it even aired. For the duration of the spell you have truesight, notice all hidden references implying Destiel and/or Johnlock and you can see into the writer’s room, all with a range of 120 ft.
Don’t Blink! One creature of your choosing has to make a constitution save. On a failed save it is restrained. After three saves, the spell fades. After three fails, the creature turns to stone.
Devil’s Trap (Circle of Death) You recreate Sam and Dean’s devil trap with black pearl powder. Each creature in a 60 ft radius sphere must make a constitution saving throw, taking 8d6 necrotic damage on a failed save, or half as much on a success. Should’ve used the salt.
7th lvl AU (Plane Shift) You and up to eight willing mutuals who link hands in a circle around an open Ao3 page are transported to its alternate universe. You can use this spell to banish an unwilling creature within melee range to an AU of your choosing.
The Police Box (Forcecage) It’s smaller on the inside! An immobile, invisible, cube-shaped prison composed of magical force springs into existence around an area you choose within range.
Feels (Power Word Pain) Cas saying dying, John watching Sherlock fall, Bad Wolf Bay… You speak a quote that causes waves of intense pain to assail one creature you can see within range. If the target has 100 hit points or fewer, it is subject to crippling pain. Otherwise the spell has no effect on it.
8th lvl I Can’t Even (Feeblemind) A creature you can see takes 4d6 psychic damage and makes an intelligence save. On failure its intelligence and charisma become 1. It can’t spell, unlock its phone, understand language or communicate legibly by any means. However, it can identify other shippers, and follow and protect them. It can repeat the save once an hour, ending the spell on a success. Repeat exposure to the source of I Can’t Even will require additional saving throws.
Dominate Monster You knew exactly what you were looking for when you clicked that tag on Ao3. A creature you see must pass a wisdom save or be charmed. If you’re fighting the monster it rolls an automatic success because this isn’t 50 Shades and safe, sane and consensual is a must. If the spell succeeds, until the end of your next turn, the creature takes only the actions you decide and nothing you don’t allow it to unless it uses the agreed upon safeword. Using an 8th lvl spell slot the duration is 1 hour, using a 9th lvl spell slot extends it to up to 8 hours.
Mishapocalypse (Maddening Darkness) He is everywhere. Nobody can escape Him. Misha fills a 60-foot-radius sphere, spreading around themes, into posts and inboxes. Missing E, Xkit or similar addons can’t penetrate the onslaught of pictures of Misha. If a creature stays on their dash, it makes a wisdom save. On a failed save, its theme and icon also becomes Misha. On a success, only its icon becomes Misha.
9th lvl Canon Otp (Psychic Scream) Up to ten shippers of opposing otps of your choice must make an intelligence save. On a fail, a target takes 14d6 psychic damage and is stunned. On a success, it takes half damage and isn’t stunned. If a target is killed by this spell, its head explodes. 
I Was There For Yahoo Groups (Foresight) An old fandom veteran, nothing fazes you anymore. Fandom wars, sites falling into the sea, it’s all old news. For 8 hours you can’t be surprised and have advantage on attack rolls, ability checks and saves. In addition, other shippers have disadvantage on attack rolls against you.
Reaching lvl 20 you become a SuperWhoLock. An ancient creature everyone has heard of, seen traces of, but nobody has ever claimed to be one out loud. It is a branding as much as it is a title, striking the average population with both nausea and fear.
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Red Rose - Chapter 2
Prologue Ch. 1 CH. 2  Ch. 3 Ch. 4 Ch. 5 Ch. 6 Ch. 7 Ch. 8 Ch. 9 Ch. 10  Ch. 11 Ch. 12 Ch. 13 Ch. 14 Ch. 15 Ch. 16 Ch. 15 Ch. 16
Summary: In a bind, Riley is forced to make a thoughtless choice. Drake remembers someone long forgotten.
Rating: T - Content not suitable for children.  Suitable for teens, 13 years and older, with minor suggestive adult themes.
Notes: Hi, everybody! How are you feeling this Monday? I had planned to thank personally everybody who liked and reblogged last chapter, but with my ILITW rant last Tuesday (which you can read here), the likes and reblogs got mixed up and I lost track of people. So, thank y’all!
(I’m still mad about ILITW, btw)
As I said earlier today, I’m trying this new thing with pictures. Think of them as a still of a significant moment of the chapter, with the line written underneath. Tell me if you like them, if you hate them or if you don’t think nothing about them at all, my ask is open!
More new content is to be released tomorrow, so stay tuned!
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Vienna, Fall 2005
The classes were finally finished in the university. The students were slowly but surely abandoning their hermit-like study abodes and again joining their friends in the celebration of a job, if not well-, at least done.
Drake Walker, like any other student, was certainly overjoyed to be free of classes, even if it meant going back home. 
He could hear himself thinking that, and he knew how weird it sounded like. The truth was, while he certainly missed his sister, facing his mother is always an ordeal.
He supposed he missed Liam, too, he weighed. Even though, his geographic location is meaningless in that front. He can be in Vienna, Avlona or Beijing, the odds are he won’t be able to see his best friend.
No time to think about those things now, he told himself, it was a party. One he wasn’t all that thrilled to attend, to be fair, but he forced himself to come to them every once in a while, to get the guys from his hall off his back about it.
The end-of-year one seemed the most appropriate.
One thing he really missed from the Brigades was the alcohol. Pouring himself another drink, cheap beer, he leant against the wall and observed the people dancing around him. A couple of his friends called him into the dancefloor, but he motioned his drink.
A couple minutes in, the lights dimmed, the people cleared space in the middle of the living room of the apartment, a makeshift dancefloor. Gwen Stefani’s voice sounded through the speakers.
Ooh this my shit
All the girls stamp your feet like this
Few times I've been around that track
So it's not just gonna happen like that
'Cause I ain't no hollaback girl
I ain't no hollaback girl
Two girls, a blonde and a red-head, do a seemingly-carefully rehearsed choreography. The crowd goes wild with their bold moves and synchrony.
As they finish, grandiose, their spectators warmly applaud their number. Drake, however, scoffs. He finds those girls to be just a pair of attention-starved wenches, and he’s seen plenty of them back in Cordonia.
As he finished yet another cup of beer, someone calls for his attention. “Hey, Grinch.” It was the red-head from before. “Why all that brooding?”
He sneered. “I’m not brooding.”
“Yes, you are. And it’s killing the party’s vibe.” She said, crossing her arms on her chest.
God, he hates redheads. Between this loser and Olivia, he was pretty sure the only reason they existed was to annoy him. “I don’t care much for dancing.”
“So far, you’ve only given me reason to bet you don’t care much for fun at all!”
Slightly crossed, Drake said: “No need to look like an idiot to have fun.”
“No need to be an ass, either.” He seemed to go and say something, but she beat him to it. “Hey, What’s-Your-Face…”
“Drake, the name’s Drake.”
“Linda Rosa, charmed.” She made a flaunt with her hair and used an extra-snotty tone. “I bet you I can make you have fun tonight.”
He laughed, half of the absurdity of the idea, half of the arrogance of the redhead. “Oh, yeah? What you have for me?”
“Considering your disgruntled face every time you put your cup into your mouth, I’d say you’re a man of fine tastes in alcohol.” She told him, mockingly. “I have a bottle of the finest scotch you’ll find on this town in my bag. Tell you what, do as I say and make a sincere attempt of enjoying yourself tonight. If you still wanna leave in fifteen minutes, you can go home with it.”
“Fifteen minutes?” Drake lifted an eyebrow. “That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“You’re on, Linda Rosa.”
She pulled him to the dancefloor.
 In the next morning, he woke up with a pounding headache, most likely a killer hangover. Yet, he felt numbly happy.
Never one was happier to lose a bet before, he was sure.
An amused thought passed through his head, about how he should check himself on a clinic, to see if that girl put something on his drink. Certainly it was out of character for him to behave like that. Even when drunk.
As he got up and dressed, he walked to his front door, to check for mail. In there, it was a bottle of booze with a note stuck on it.
“I never told you what I’d get if I won the bet. I got a good companion and a nice time. To thank you for your sportsmanship, enjoy this whiskey. ~Linda Rosa”
Out of character it might be, but, Drake decided, sometimes it was nice to act uncharacteristically.
New York City, Fall 2015
“I’ll be back for you in the morning.” He had said. “Don’t even try to escape. We have you watched. It’s time for you to come back.”
Riley hasn’t slept at all. She was at her wit’s end. All night she thought of a plan, but anything she could come up with seemed fit to ease her escape. She was starting to believe she had to face reality, she would have to return.
Her most precious belongings were already packed. The only important thing left was hung, majestic, on the wall. The thought of putting it down brought tears to her eyes, but it had to be done.
She was motioning to get the job done when she heard a knock on her front door.
“Riley?” A voice she couldn’t quite place called from the other side. “Are you there?”
“Who is it?” She shakily asked the stranger.
“It’s Maxwell, from last night!” The cheery tone quelled her angst.
Quick on her feet, Riley opened the door and motioned for him and, surprisingly, Drake to come inside.
Not waiting for her to inquire, Maxwell jumped to talking. “We’re heading back to Cordonia, so Liam can find someone to marry and all that jazz. But, before I go, I’d like to invite you to join us!”
“Come again?” Riley asked, in shock.
“Sorry, was I speaking too fast? My brother says I do that sometimes.”
He definitively was, but that was not the case in point. “No, I mean, what do you mean me going off to Cordonia with you?”
He frowned, confused. “Well, that. What’s so strange about it?”
Drake rolled his eyes, but did not say a thing.
“God, sweetie, don’t open that door.” Riley thought, and then outloud answered: “Lots of stuff, but mainly ‘what for would I go to Cordonia’?”
“To compete for Liam’s hand, of course! Didn’t you know about how things work up there?”
“Liam kinda explained to me last night.”
“There you go! You wouldn’t normally be able to join, but I want to sponsor you!”
“Sponsor me? Maxwell, I don’t seem to understand.”
“I’m from a noble family, but I don’t have any sisters, so we don’t have anyone in the competition for the prince’s hand. So, we can choose any girl, and you’re my pick!”
“You want me to compete in a The Bachelor-like event to marry Liam?” She asked, incredulously. “What is in for you?”
“If you accept, you’ll owe me three boons, each favor fraught with more peril than the last.”
“Now, seriously, please.”
“I’m just trying to help you out, Riley.” He said earnestly. “We’re kinda crunched for time, though. I’ve got a plane leaving within the hour, so no time to waste! The Masquerade, which opens the event, is tomorrow night!”
“So…” She breathed out. “A fancy Masquerade… And what else?”
“Fun stuff! Yachting in the Adriatic, skiing in the mountains, dancing in the Royal Palace… Or, y’know, you could just stay in New York. Go back to your gig, with your crappy boss. Sure, is just as good.”
Of course, staying in New York wasn’t an option anymore. The man from last night was taxative when he told her they would be leaving. While everything this man was spewing seemed insanity, he was, right now, her best chance of escape, so perhaps she should explore the possibility.
“Okay, okay, you got me. Anything if I can be as far away from Frank as possible.” She smiled. “But we have a problem, my passport is expired. They won’t let me leave.”
They weren’t the US Immigration, not that Maxwell needed to know.
“No problem-o!” Maxwell said, excited. “We have diplomatic passports and a private plane on a US Air Force base. We can get you out of the country. When we get to Cordonia, Tariq’s friends with the American consul, he can get you a new passport.”
Diplomatic passports and airplane on a Air Force base meant undetectable traveling. Even with all their resources, they couldn’t know she left the city, much less where she went.
“If that’s so… I’m in!”
“Yeah! Go pack your bags.” If only he knew. “This is going to be the adventure of a lifetime!”
She went back to her room and shoved all her dresses and perfumes into three huge bags, in addition with the trunk containing her valuables. She made a point to leave most of her regular clothing and shoes in her wardrobe, as to, when the guy from last night comes back to fetch her, he’ll think she intends to come back shortly.
All done with the packing, she came back to the living room, where Maxwell could not be seen. Drake, however, was watching intensely the painting on her wall.
“Hey, Drake,” He jumped, surprised. “What are you looking at?”
“This painting.” He said.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it? I’ve bought in a trip once. It’s…”
He cut her off. “Hagia Sophia. Yeah.”
She waited for a second, and then said: “Where’s Maxwell?”
“He went out to call a cab.”
“Oh” Riley said. “Could you help me? The bags are kinda heavy…”
He hmphed, but followed her into her room. “Jesus, Riley. Don’t you know the concept of travelling lightly?”
“It’s not like I know the climate in Cordonia, the occasions I’ll be needing clothes or even how long I’ll stay out!” She defended, in a snarky tone.
Drake was about to reply when Maxwell came back, announcing their cab has arrived.
Once a few thousand feet from the ground, flying through Sicily and Tunisia, Maxwell finally said: “Say goodbye to New York and hello to Cordonia!”, making a point out of the flare in which he said ‘Cordonia’.
“I can’t believe this is actually happening.” She couldn’t believe she escaped.
“Believe it.” Drake bite. “We’ll be landing soon, ready or not. And if you’re not ready, those ladies at court are gonna eat you alive.”
“Jesus, Drake! Don’t scare her!” Maxwell chastised.
“They should be afraid of me, Drake.” Riley answered.
“Cocky.” He answered with a side smile. “You might actually survive.”
She shrugged. “I don’t get why are you being so grim about, that’s all.”
“Look,” He said. “No offense, but I’ve seen girls like you come and go. It never ends well. Not for you, not for Liam, not for the royal family.”
Maxwell saw a point into defending her honor: “Riley’s not some crown-chaser!”
God knows how much that statement is true. “To be fair, Drake, you’re more my type of guy.” He scoffed at her, which flared her with white rage. Not one to betray it, she calmly said: “I mean it. I don’t usually go for rich boys, much less royalty.”
As she finished her sentence, Maxwell tells her they were approaching the Cordonian capital city.
As she looked out the window, she breathed “It’s something out of a fairy tale…”
“If you burst into song, I’m jumping out of this plane.”
“The window is open!/So's that door!/I didn't know they did that anymore!/Who knew we owned eight thousand salad plates?” Riley sung the first cartoon song that came to mind. Soon enough, Maxwell accompanied her: “For years I've roamed these empty halls/Why have a ballroom with no balls?/Finally they're opening up the gates!”
Drake groaned.
“So, Riley!” Maxwell wondered. “Are. You. READY?!”
“Heck yeah!”
Argyrocastron, Cordonia, Fall 2015
As they were going out of the plane, she noticed a sign off the airstrip.
Αεροδρόμιο Αυλωνά
Aéroport de Vallonna
Avlona International Airport
“Those are the official languages in Cordonia.” Drake surprised her from behind. “Greek and French.”
“Oh, right!” Maxwell was reminded of something. “Do you speak French?”
“Mais oui, Maxwell. Parfaitement.”
Drake scoffed. “How about Greek?”
“Fysiká!” She said, smugly. “Ézisa me mia ellinikí oikogéneia ótan píga sti Néa Yórki.”
“Say what?” Maxwell inquired in French. “You’ll have to repeat that for me.”
“I said,” Riley explained, also in French. “I lived with a Greek family when I moved to New York. I’m fluent in Greek too.”
Drake was close to a pout, having failed into busting her. Maxwell is more amendable. “Forgive Drake. Greek and French are taught in schools in Cordonia, but I guess you’ll be using more French, most nobles don’t speak Greek.”
“So, he was just out to get me?”
“Yeah, that sums it up.”
“Jerk.”
New York City, Fall 2015
“What do you mean you’ve lost her?!” The voice screeched on the phone.
“I’m most sorry, but…” He tried to explain himself, but was soon cut off.
“Sorry doesn’t cut it!” The word ‘sorry’ was spit out like it tasted foul. “Haven’t we explained to you how vital is this assignment, or do you just not understand what we tell you to do?!”
“I do understand.” He said, tersely. “And she did escape from me, but all her clothes and cash are still in the apartment.”
“She has her means, you moron!”
“No, no, wait!” He grew nervous. “The painting! The painting is still here!”
There was a short silence on the line.
“Is it?” They said, finally.
“Yes. Yes, it is.” He breathed relieved. “We are monitoring all the airports, bus lines and ships coming in and out of the tri-state area. She won’t be able to leave or to return without our knowledge.”
“Yes… I suppose that is for the best.” The voice conceded. “Leave the underlings in New York and come back. We need to regroup. Bring the painting, with the utmost care.”
The line went dead.
­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­Avlona, Cordonia, Fall 2015
The hour or so of roads down the hills to get to Cordonia’s capital city were uneventful. Maxwell excitedly commented the songs playing on the car’s radio, while Drake brooded.
Riley gave limited attention to Maxwell’s antics, as she worried about the next few months.
As they got closer and closer to the shore, the temperature rose. Up in the airport, it was cooler than New York, the skies were gray, and she heard a Grecian couple talk about the possibility of a hoar-frost that evening. The suburbs of Cordonia’s capital, though, seemed to be living in an eternal summer. The people on the street were scantily-clad, as to resist the heat coming from the pavement, the sun was shining, no sign of rain, much less a frost, on the skies.
“Maxwell,” Riley interrupted his tirade about a rather unknown singer to her.
“Et tous les bourgeois du 16ème/Se demandent pourquoi je t'aime/Pour n'avoir pas besoin d'un zoom/Quand toi et moi on fait boum boum boum,” He sung, not really hearing her.
“Maxwell!” She called a little louder.
“Hm? Oh, yes Riley?”
“Why is so hot in here?” She asked. “Aren’t we in the middle of autumn?”
Drake laughed cruelly. “It is never cold out here. We go to the beach on Christmas.”
“Really?!” She asked, somewhat surprised.
“Not really,” Maxwell corrected. “It gets a little cold on December, but Drake’s right. You won’t be seeing snow in Valona.”
“That’s kinda odd…” Riley said. “Dunno, I guess I’m used to cold weather.”
Maxwell laughed. “You will get plenty cold when we go up the mountains. People say that in Lythikos is never sunny!”
Drake smirked, while Riley pretended she knew where Lythikos was.
They took a turn into a modern city area, with tall, glassy skyscrapers into a residential area, with classy, ancient buildings. Soon enough, they were going up once again, through a wide avenue decorated with flowers. The streets were full of people, though with few cars. There were lots of flags, too, which she assumed was the Cordonian national flag.
The densely built avenue suddenly gave place to a wooden area. As they made a curve to the left, she saw a tall wall and a strongly guarded gate.
Behind all that, there was still a long road and lots of trees, but she could see, glistening on the horizon, the pavilion. It was the Palace of the Brigades, her memory provided. The hill in which Napoleon and the first king of modern Cordonia proclaimed the country’s independence from the Turks. The official residence of the Cordonian monarchy.
“Welcome to your home for the next few months, Riley.” Maxwell told her.
“I didn’t realize I’d be staying in the Royal Palace all this time.” She said, dazzled.
“Most of nobility live here while the season is underway.” The cage system, Riley remembered, very French of them. “Including all the ladies vying for Liam’s hand.”
“Yeah, living under one roof just makes it easier to attend the rose ceremony later.”
Maxwell rolls his eyes. “Drake’s just kidding… About the roses, I guess.”
Maxwell took her to see her room, while Drake went off on his own. A mean thought went through Riley’s head, on the lines of she couldn’t be happier to be rid of the ‘lowly’ company. She wasn’t in the palace for five minutes and she was already snobbier. She laughed inside, partly of jest, but also out of nerves. The next feel months would be interesting.
“So, what’s the deal with Drake?” Riley asked. “Why he’s so jaded?”
“Oh, don’t mind him.” Maxwell answered her as they climbed their way to her room. “Drake’s never really… fit in.”
“Not used to courtly life?”
“Definitely! He’s not of noble blood. He’s always been an outsider here, even if he’s Liam’s friend.” He breathed and stopped by a door. “Here we are. In case if you need something from me or my brother, we’re just next door, okay?”
“I didn’t know you had a brother.”
“Yeah, an older brother.” He smiled tersely. “Bertrand of Beaumont, Duke Ramsford. As the eldest, he’s the heir and I’m the spare. You’ll see him tonight, he’ll be excited to meet you.”
Somehow, she didn’t think it’d be the case.
“Maxwell?”
“Yes?”
Riley looked mirthfully at the bed. “Is anything keeping me from jumping on the bed?”
“Only your dignity.”
She laughed. “Fools!”
She ran to the fluffy bed and started jumping and laughing, sighing happily as her weight sinks into the mattress when she got tired.
Life could be grand.
Following Maxwell’s general guidelines about tonight’s event, Riley went down to the seamstress, as in to prepare one of her gowns for the evening, as well as getting herself a mask.
She seems to have chosen a bad moment, as she barged in and a girl was in the nude, changing.
“Oh, God!” Riley exclaimed. “I’m so sorry!”
As Riley turned her back to give some modesty to the girl, she replied: “No problem. To be honest, I didn’t have an appointment. I’m Hana, Hana Lee.”
The black-haired smiled, not that the Asian could see. “I’m Riley Flowers, the girl who’s being sponsored by the Beaumont’s. It’s very nice to meet you!”
“Likewise.” She breathed out. “I suppose you’re also here to prepare for the Masquerade tonight. Assuming you’re here with me now, and not already dressed, I must assume you’re, like me, searching desperately for something to wear.”
Desperate may be the word to put it, considering the current minimalist getup the tanned girl had.
“More or less.” Riley said, neutral. “I’m here to touch up one of my dresses.”
“The seamstress is running late, but I can show you around!”
As Riley turned around, she saw Hana struggling to zip up completely. Helping up her finish, Hana says: “Thank you. Not many girls around are like you.”
“As in helpful?”
“Nice”
As she looks what Riley has in the bag, she exclaims she has the perfect mask to go with it. As she slips it in, she asks Hana: “How do I look?”
“Divine!”
“I don’t understand!” The young girl of seven complains. “Why do I have to come to this stupid party?”
“Well, Dora, that’s just how father is.” Her sister says, while her teenaged fingers arranges the girl’s little, white dress. “You eventually learn to suck it up and go with his evil, mastermind plans, which usually involve us being shown like broodmares.”
Theodora pouted. “But it’s so boring!”
“And it doesn’t get better.” The other girl said. “Why do you think everybody’s drunk by the end of the night?”
The blonde girl giggled.
“Do you know what you must do?” The elder sister checked.
“Enter hand-in-hand with father, give him the rose,” She motioned the flower on her hand. “Dance the first waltz with him, bow and leave.”
The teen smirked. “Perfect. Fortunately for you, no-one will miss you if you find the servant’s girl and scurries off to the gardens. Just avoid tearing your dress, okay?”
“Okay…” Dora deadpanned.
The sister took her hand and walked her over the entrance of the ballroom, where the rest of their family congregated. Her father noticed their arrival, and, dismissing her elder daughter, he kneels to talk to his youngest.
“Are you ready, Dora?”
“Yes, father.” She responded, dutifully, if rather dull.
The man’s lips thinned. “Dora, I know you’d prefer to be doing just about anything else right now, but this is important to us. Can you be a good girl tonight?”
Her eyes were locked to the ground, she did not want her father’s sapphire blue eyes piercing her ones.
“Dora?” He asks, pointedly.
Finally, she nods.
The parent smiles at his daughter, hugging her and kissing her forehead. “Good. Now, let us make this family proud.”
He took her small hand in his and they entered the ballroom with their chins up.
Palace of the Brigades, Avlona, Cordonia, Fall 2015
As they go into the ballroom, the herald announces her as “Lady Riley Flowers of New York”. She admits it does have a ring to it.
Alone and rather lost, she goes to the first familiar face she finds. Drake. Sadly, it lacks in friendliness.
“Good evening, my lady.” He says.
“So you do have manners!” Riley replies.
“Riley?!” He seems astounded. “Is that you?”
“Of course.” She twirls her off-white dress. “Who else?”
“I… I was caught off-guard!” He defends, lamely. “You clean up well.”
“I’m torn.” Riley says with a pointed look. “I can’t decide if you’re being nice or a douche again. Since I’m happy to be here, I’ll take it as a compliment.”
He chose that moment to feel self-conscious. “Looking the part doesn’t mean you’re going to be welcome here, you know?”
“Classy, Drake.”
“Compared to most nobles here, I’m your best friend.” He said, forcefully.
“I know.”
“That’s the first smart thing you’ve said.”
She frowns, but chose to ignore the last part. “What I meant is that I know I’m at a snakes’ nest, that doesn’t mean I can’t have fun.”
He sighs. “Look, I’m not trying to be a jerk. I’m just trying to help.”
Half humored, half angered, she says: “You have a very particular way of helping.”
“I’m just saying what I wish someone would have said me a long time ago.”
“Is it, Drake?” She raises an eyebrow. “Is it all there is to it?”
For a second, he seems conflicted, but soon excuses himself to the bar. As he went away, he says: “Good luck, Riley. You’re gonna need it.”
Vienna, Early 2006
Linda Rosa was sipping her coffee, twirling her flaming red hair, looking at the nothing.
“You should be more careful. You’ll end up mugged.” A deep voice rung on her ears.
“I’ve been mugged already, but I don’t carry anything of value aside from my paintings, and I suppose I should be flattered if someone thinks they’re valuable enough to be stolen.”
Drake was unsure whether to be angered or amused by her antics. “I don’t even know what to respond to that.”
She smiled, daring. “You could give me a kiss and say that you love me.”
He smirked. He took her cheek and kissed her passionately, slightly unsuitable for public company, such as they were at a coffeeshop.
“I love you, you know?” Drake told her.
“Yeah, I do, and I love you too.” She smiled, melancholic.
“Why are you so down?”
“Oh, it’s nothing, I’ve just had yet another row with my father.”
“About?”
“Oh, same old, same old. My college major, my clothes, my hair. Teenage rebellion, he says.” She sighed. “Hey, Drake?”
“Yes?”
“What do you think about noble people?”
He choked on his coffee. “What?”
“You know, blue blood, aristocracy, monarchy, privilege, this kind of thing.”
“Why are you asking about that?!”
“While I was rowing with my father, I thought he’d like to ship me off and marry to some well-to-do man, like he’s some kind of blue-blood of the seventeenth century. I just wondered about your opinion of them. You come from a monarchical country, don’t you?”
“Yeah, Cordonia’s a monarchy.”
“Perhaps you would agree with my dad, or think it was cool to have this thing around, at this day and age.” She wondered, with her expression empty. Soon enough, however, it was like her spirit settled itself back into her body. “What do you think about them?” Her eyes drilled him, anxious for an answer.
Drake couldn’t hold eye contact. “For me, they look pretentious and self-serving, but I don’t know, I’ve never met any.”
She turned thoughtful for a moment. “You’re probably right, I guess. Hey, let’s go to the park! I want to walk around, feel the sun!”
“No, it’s too cold.” Drake complained.
“Come on, mister grouchy! I’ll warm you up!”
He tried to keep his neutral face, but the sight of his girlfriend’s smile cracked him up. “Fine. Let’s go.”
She took his arms and they went out the door.
Red Rose - Masterlist
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