001,   MATURE CONTENT.

If you are easily bothered by mature themes, then this isn't the account for you. That being said, if i ever post anything that you’re not okay with or that triggers you, Please let me know! The last thing I want to do is harm someone with my writing. THIS ACCOUNT IS NOT SUITABLE FOR MINORS. I will not write with anyone under the age of eighteen. There are no exceptions to this rule. I would prefer those I write with are twenty one but 18+ is also acceptable.

  002,   INTERACTIONS.

My accounts are and always will be a safe place for me. I reserve the right to block those who make me uncomfortable. Bringing drama my way, being rude, racist, homophobic, ableist or transphobic will get you blocked. I always put my real life first. However, i will always give notice if a reply will take longer than a week. I would appreciate it if my writing partners would do the same.

  003,   SHIPPING.

All ships are based purely on chemistry and will only be developed between two consenting adults. I will participate in writing lewd upon request, only given that both the writers and the characters are the appropriate age. It will not be written with anyone under the age of eighteen for obvious reasons, and so your honesty involving this is a must. There must always be chemistry otherwise I find it pointless & boring.

  004,   WRITING EXPECTATIONS.

I understand that people are prone to spelling mistakes and typos, so you don't have to worry about making a few mistakes. However, if it gets to the point where I cannot understand you, I shall address it. Returning the same amount of effort is extremely important to me. That being said, I can do anything from novella to one-liner. Just give me something to work with and all should be fine.

  005,   TRIGGER WARNINGS.

Trigger warnings for this account and character include; strong language, loss, self harm, death, mental health struggles, abuse. If there is something in particular you need tagged, please reach out and let me know so that I can add it accordingly.

  006,   SELECTIVENESS.

This account, like all my others, remains selective when it comes to interactions. This is not because of my ego but simply because I struggle with anxiety and don't want to overwhelm myself. That being said, I do love developing and my messages are always open to do so even if it takes me a little bit to reply. I appreciate everyone's understanding when it comes to this.

For most of his life, Mark Davis had known exactly what he wanted. Or at least, he had an idea. He wanted the one thing he didn’t have in life. A big happy family. It wasn’t that his family was necessarily unhappy, it was just small. It had always just been him and his dad, also named Mark. His dad was great, the best anyone could ask for really. He was loving, he was supportive. Mark senior had built his publishing company from the ground up and it was a roaring success, it was his greatest achievement - besides his son. Mark loved his father. He loved learning to fix cars with him or having barbecue’s with just the two of them. He wasn’t lonely, wasn’t mistreated or neglected. He just wanted to be the kind of dad he'd been raised by. Everything fell into place when he met Lillian in high school. She was beautiful, smart and confident. She knew exactly what she wanted in life, just as he did. And while Lillian wanted different things, a career, a house on the beach, it didn’t really matter to Mark. To him, she was perfect. They fell madly in love. It was real, it was genuine, it was honest. Mark loved Lillian with every bone in his body, he didn’t think he could ever love anyone more. And she felt the same. They wanted to be together forever, to forge a life together. Mark respected Lillian’s wishes, her ambitions. He followed her to college as she asked, studying business while she studied law purely so that they could remain together. Once Lillian’s law career was settled, Mark began looking for ways to check the other items off her list of wants.His grandmother had a lovely home on Kildare Island, where his father had been born. It had been sitting empty, the grief of her loss too much for his father to bear. They moved in two years after finishing college, getting married a mere month before. Mark found space for Lillian to start her very own law firm in Charleston. He began taking over his father’s company as his father prepared to step down. Everything was on track, everything was slotting into place. They’d even begun discussing children. Lillian said it wasn’t the right time, that they had to settle a little more. But then Mark Senior died. It made them think about how short life was. And so, after a year of trying and nine months after that, they welcomed a beautiful baby girl into the world. Beatrix Davis, named after her grandmother, came into the world on a sunny day. As soon as Mark held his daughter in his arms, he felt all the puzzle pieces slot into place. He hadn’t even known something was missing until he found her. Mark adored his daughter. Lillian did too. They were happy. A stereotypical happy family. Beatrix was the spitting image of her father, her dark hair, her smile, her eyes, they were his. Passed down as if he’d known what was to come. Mark converted the basement into a space for Beatrix when she turned five, not that she needed it. Still, she had her own bathroom, her own living room with a little kitchenette attached. He even built a dance studio as soon as his daughter showed an interest. She never had to ask for anything, never had to want. Spoiled was an understatement. Lillian often told her husband he spoiled her, that tough love was necessary in raising a child. Mark disagreed, although he would never say it.For thirteen years, Beatrix had a perfect life. She was popular, she was well cared for. Mark enrolled her in every single extracurricular she wanted, claiming he wanted her to try everything until she found her passion. Art, Dance, Gymnastics, Cheerleading. Anything and everything she could think of. It was a friend from her dance classes in Charleston that invited her to a sleepover. Beatrix begged to go, pleading with her dad that she was old enough now. And like Mark always did when she asked for something, he agreed. Before the sun had even set, Beatrix was calling her dad and begging him to come and get her. He got in his car immediately and picked her up from the sleepover. They’d stopped to watch the sunset. With her head on his shoulder and his hand gripped in her own. It was the happiest moment of her life. Nothing lived up to it. Not the gifts, the classes, the awards or achievements. That moment, sitting beside her dad, watching the sunset. It started to rain before they even reached the car, Beatrix’s squeals mixing in with her dads laughter. The drive back was slow, Mark was taking his time. They sang along to the radio, windows down an inch to let in some air. The other car came out of nowhere. It slammed into Mark’s side, sending his truck spinning in a circle. It hit the barrier in the middle of the bridge and flipped upside down. Beatrix could remember every moment, although she couldn’t remember when or how the piece of glass got embedded in her side. She didn’t remember the pain of her wound, only the pain that filled her when she glanced over at her father.He wasn’t breathing. His chest wasn’t moving, his smile was gone. She had never seen her dad without a smile on his face. She screamed for help, and didn't stop screaming until the ambulances arrived. Beatrix had to have surgery but they were able to save her life. All she was left with was a scar and a broken leg. Her father wasn’t so lucky. He had died in the car, before the ambulances even arrived. He had died next to his daughter, his last thoughts a prayer that she would be okay. His loss shattered the life she had like a flimsy piece of glass. From the moment she woke up from surgery, all the way to his funeral, people told her that it was going to be okay. But it wasn’t. Because he was dead. Nothing would ever be the same again. Her mother made that very clear. Two days after Beatrix’s fourteenth birthday, Lillian moved to Charleston permanently. She had bought an apartment, claiming that it was easier due to her work. Beatrix knew the truth. After his death, her mother had turned to drinking away the pain. She had said every bad thought she had to her daughter during that time. That it was her fault. Her father’s death rested slowly on the shoulders of the daughter that had survived. And the worst part was, Beatrix knew she was right. If she hadn’t called and asked him to come get her, if she hadn’t asked to watch the sunset. He would be alive. The guilt began to mix in with her grief slowly. Beatrix had to find ways to numb the suffocating emotions. She had tried to remain normal, be the same person she had always been but it wasn’t easy. Her friends had all noticed the difference, the way that the loss had changed her. Beatrix found herself in a downward spiral. She dropped out of all her extra activities, swapping them for things more self destructive.It only took four months for her friends to start talking behind her back. Beatrix pushed them away without a second thought, discarding them like they had never meant anything to her at all. The sunshine that had once coated her was gone, replaced with anger and a numbness she needed to survive. Beatrix became cold, mean. She lashed out, she got in fights. Her mother never found out, Peterkin seemed to give her a little leniency. Especially since there always seemed to be someone stepping forward to claim that she had never started any of the fights. A full year passed before Beatrix began to control her anger a little better. She made use of her dance studio once again, using ballet to release her frustration. It was after that year that Sarah Cameron became a closer person in her life. Beatrix assumed that Ward had asked his daughter to befriend her, considering Lillian was the Cameron family lawyer. But it didn’t matter. Because Sarah invited her to sleepovers when it rained. She held her back when she almost got into another fight. Even though Beatrix was a year older than Sarah, it didn’t matter. They were close. Until they weren’t. One day, things shifted. Beatrix began partying harder, doing things that Sarah just wasn’t into. They grew apart, although both would deny it. Beatrix just couldn’t let go of her self destructive habits. She missed her mother. Missed her dad. It wasn’t as if she wasn’t taken care of. Mark, having assumed he and his Lillian would die in their old age together, had left everything to Beatrix. The house and the land it sat on, her grandfather’s business, all of the money in his personal account. It was all hers. But it wasn’t the same as having him there with her.Nothing would ever be the same again. Beatrix was a shell of the person she grew up as. Empty and cold. Alone. All she had left to keep her company was her grief. No matter how many parties she attended, how much she drank, how many things she took to numb the pain, none of it would make her feel better. She pulled back slowly, stopping the drugs, unless it was weed. That was the only way she could sleep at night. She stopped attending so many parties, spacing them out to give herself time. Dancing helped, a little. But nothing truly made it hurt less. Nothing made her guilt lessen. For now, all she could do was keep trying to live up to the expectations her Dad once had of her.