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17 days ago
Current We're fucking cooked, dudes.
1 like
25 days ago
Moving multiple states away from my home town tomorrow, and it's all sinking in. Holy shit.
12 likes
2 mos ago
Beer is liquid bread. Pop-tarts are ravioli. Corn dogs are Popsicles. I will not be explaining.
4 likes
3 mos ago
Having a panic attack? Try shaking your ass to the Mama Mia soundtrack instead.
6 likes
5 mos ago
Even as a waitress, I'm tired of the excessive tipping culture. Just please remember your servers make below average federal minimum wage. If service is shit, service is shit though.
10 likes

Bio





Haley ★ 24 ★ Taurus ★ EST ★ Casual Level Group Writer


Welcome fellow writer. I go by many names, but you can call me Haley or pretty much anything else. I stick to causal level groups here on the forum. I have a soft spot for thunderstorms, dark humor, strong coffee, animals, pretty words, feminine rage, mythologies, and all things that go 'bump' in the night. I've lived in the same small southern Appalachian town my whole life, and aim to travel one day. I'm open to the occasional random conversation, but please do not message me asking to write one-on-one; it's simply not something I do these days.

Most Recent Posts

@Liv not sure what's going on with the link 😭 It shows on mobile fine for me. I'm also using android if that makes a difference for you.




Time: Thursday, June 1st, 6:30am.
Location: Demios Cabin -> Mess Hall
Interactions: Screaming at the sky.

༶•┈┈⛧┈♛


Ryan woke up screaming in the stillness of her room.

Pillows and blankets had been thrown across the room as visions of her childhood danced in her head. The night terrors wasn’t anything she talked about, and she felt guilty for waking up her siblings at odd hours in the morning. But what could she do? She didn’t choose her mother, nor her trauma. Ryan was just thankful for the few people that understood - like Dany, for example.

It was mornings like these where Ryan wished she was more of an integral part of the camp. An extra hobby or chore would help to distract her mind better than any shower, but she had forced herself into this quiet lonesome - and only she could blame herself for it.

Once she was done with her shower, Ryan grabbed her daily necessities from her bedside table before quietly exiting the Deimos cabin. While she was glad that she had found her little family here at Camp Half-blood, she was happy that it was just that - little. Less people to disturb, less people to worry about, and less people to worry about her.

Even the sunrise and sounds of the camp coming alive for summer did nothing to shake the mind numbing feeling that she had as she walked down to the mess hall. She had spent years being angry at the world, and this morning wasn’t anything different. Grateful for the fact she was one of the first to arrive for breakfast, Ryan seated herself at the empty Deimos table as nymphs danced around the mess hall with platters of divine looking rations. The young woman silently filled her plate with various cheeses, berries and bread before making her way to the fire outside to burn her offerings to the gods.

The gods.

What had they ever done for her?

All Ryan knew of her father was what her mother, Georgia, had told her. Ryan often kicked herself for believing it, knowing that her mother was a master liar and manipulator. What else did she have to go off of, if not her mothers words? Deimos himself had never cared enough to make an appearance, and Dany’s promises that their father was good did nothing to ease the boiling anger inside of Ryan towards her godly parent.

Scrapping a portion of her meal into the flames she sighed.

”It’s me again, father - your bastard child,” she spat. ”I’m still waiting on some sort of confirmation that you exist.”

As the words fell from her mouth, a gentle, warm breeze blew through the air. It only made her more bitter. Her father wasn’t a wind god.

With the taste of venom still on her tongue, Ryan made her way back to the table in silence. Opening her journal, the demi-goddes began drawing in between bites of her food.

Extravagant.
I believe in the existence of God so I have someone to blame.
The octopus uprising.


Educate me please.
It is a common fact for many I'm sure, but I cannot sleep through the night. Though, apparently, that has been the case since infancy. My mother used to have to find certain noises to lull baby Ribbon to sleep. Albeit, briefly.

(I also feel immensely guilty for it, knowing that I must have been a major headache in those crucial months / years after birth.)

I often struggle with dreams that are unsettling, or horrific whenever I do sleep. I think it's quite funny that I never could grow out of this. On a brighter note, these dreams are an amazing source of inspiration when it comes to my writing.


I relate heavily to this. My parents had to drive me around a lot as a baby to get me to fall asleep, and I struggle to stay awake on road trips. I've had my struggle with night terrors here and there, but thankfully they don't stick around for as long as yours tend to. Insomnia is a pain.

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I'm the only/oldest daughter, eldest grand daughter on both sides of the family, and eldest niece in my family.






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