Ryan Gibbons

There's more to me than you see, another me down inside somewhere full of hate, ready to hurt, cut, smash, or if maybe there is no other and there's just me alone, then I'm not the person I always thought I was, I'm something twisted and horrible.

[rhodestoruin]

Kian had considered the library a haven from his first days in Bentley, but he’d recently seen some very creepy things there–being that he was already dead, that was saying a lot. He supposed that, compared to the twisted, humanoid creature he thought he’d spotted lurking among the shelves, this wasn’t even a blip on the radar. That didn’t stop the heat from spreading across his cheeks, nor did the nearby commentary. “N-n– I w-wasn’t,” he stammered, visibly flustered, and also clearly aware that denial only made him look guiltier. He sputtered himself into silence and stared fixedly at the tabletop, willing the girls to move on. Not that anything had ever happened just because Kian willed it.

[ryanremembers]

A few decades ago Ryan himself would not have reacted as nonchalant to the two women as he did now. Being born in the 50s with two parents who had sticks so far up their arses, you’d been surprised not to find the top of their head bulge into a mound, it was no surprise their firstborn son would adopt their narrow mind. In a sense, losing all his memories, had made Ryan a better human being — aside the blood that was still sticking to his hands, figuratively speaking. 

Ryan raised his eyebrows at the other male, nodding slowly. "Of course,” he said, dragging out the syllables. Either this guy was a terrible liar or even worse at speaking the truth. Either way, both traits weren’t exactly good ones, nor did they make him any trustworthy. “Feel free to correct me then! What were you thinking exactly?”

[waywardseeds-blog]

Sipping her drink, Claudia smirked slightly at Ryan’s question. Everything she did was in order to suppress most of her feelings. After all, her life wasn’t exactly what one would call picturesque. But she did enjoy the activities she chose for herself. Even if they weren’t the healthiest of endeavors. “Mostly just drinking because.” She shrugged, casually, “And yourself?” 

[ryanremembers]

There had been a time many years ago, when it had always been one or the other — hunting or drinking, drinking or hunting, or both if the brothers decided to take a little scope beforehand. Now, since he had forgotten he was capable of the one, it was almost logical he reverted to the other. “In doubt, always celebrating,” he answered, “It’s probably not my birthday today, but it damn well might be, so...”

[praejack-deactivated20250227]

The secret to success was to move with a purpose. It didn’t matter where he was going, all people could see was that there was a man at work, heading from point A to point B, from one patient’s room to the next. His gait quickened to the point where he was practically gliding down the corridor –– it was assumed he had every right to be where he was going, the confidence radiating off of him made spectators far too self-conscious to question his authority. Whether the illusion was to make himself feel important or to look important was up to debate, but it did both rather effectively. 

The shrill ring of a cellphone brought him back to present day and he abruptly stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, momentarily disoriented by his surroundings; three years hadn’t been enough time to play catch up on almost a century of development. He would never get used to it – devoid of being anything. It wasn’t the technology that was the problem, he had all of eternity to figure it out while the mid-life crisis was going to last just as long. It was 2016 and he was going nowhere. 

[ryanremembers]

The definition of daydreaming is a short-term detachment from one's immediate surroundings, during which a person's contact with reality is blurred and partially substituted by a visionary fantasy. As a result a man might see high trees instead of streetlights, walks upon the uneven humus layer of a forest instead of Bentley’s almost perfectly placed cobble-stone pavement or sees a deer running between the houses, fleeing from the approaching humans. By this time, said man had become entirely unruffled by the slightly bend reality. Ryan Gibbons walked as though nothing was any different to everyone else’s view, simply took a larger when a root threatened to catch his foot. 

It took Ryan a moment to realise the ringing phone was his own. The man in front of him had stopped so abruptly it seemed it was him who got called — and really, who the fuck would call Ryan anyway? Pulling out the device the answer was easily found and Ryan let out a heavy sigh as he accepted the call only to immediately turn the woman on the other end down: “I can’t speak right now.” And his eyes fell back to the man who was still frozen in place only steps ahead of him. “I am pretty sure an elder is about to get a heart attack and I don’t want anyone to mistake this as me calling the ambulance.”

you’ve walked this path before. you KNOW how this story e n d s.

[teddylupines]

“Well, clearly you have never considered the possibility that someone could work nights.” She said the words quickly, hoping they would be taken as a jibe. She technically hadn’t been scheduled to work a late shift but someone had called out and then there were things to clean and Morrigan had seen the clock flash 12:43 just as she left. Then, when she had arrived back to her home, she’d decided to read just a chapter on the book on her nightstand table – it turned into seven and the sun had just begun to rise when she shut her eyes. She shut her eyes tightly, the urge to reach up and rub her temples overwhelming, before saying, “Can I ask you to wait an hour? Please.”

[ryanremembers]

Honestly? That most definitely was the truth – he was far from considerate – but if Ryan was even more honest he could absolutely not be bothered by said possibility. It did however cause him to turn around. “Either you’re being terribly hypocritical right now or you’ve a really sad life.” His eyes wandered over her, eyebrows raising slightly because she sure did look like the latter. That either called for judgement or sympathy, which one he was going to settle on he had yet to decide. "If I try to please everyone, I’d never get to do what I want.” While waiting an hour would certainly not hurt, the suggesttion still had Ryan roll his eyes: “Don’t you have earplugs?”

[notwhatimurtaugh]

Franklin wasn’t sure what was worse– the fact that this stranger was right, his client was nowhere in sight, or that the man was making fun of the only thing that Franklin could depend on. “No,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I don’t want to bother you.” Sure, someone had died in this particular house, but didn’t have to enclose that with his information. “Sorry, I’ll-” He sighed, pushing the chair out a bit farther. “I’ll leave you be.”

[ryanremembers]

Naturally, because that was what Ryan Gibbons did, Ryan rolled his eyes and gestured towards the empty seat in front of him: "Come on! Sit!" There were no excuses other than very bold ‘I don’t fucking want to sit down ‘cause you look like trouble’. A cancelled meeting meant the man had all the time in the world, and shockingly: “This isn’t my bothered expression.”

[waywardseeds-blog]

Claudia looked up at the stranger next to her, a small smile appearing in order to match the one he offered. Claudia raised a brow and then watched as the bartender refilled her drink before she could reply to the strangers inquiry. “Seems that way.” Reaching for the drink, she took a sip, “I’m Claudia.” She continued, offering an innocent smile.

[ryanremembers]

In a greeting manner Ryan lifted his own glass, tilting it towards the girl as a toast. “Ryan,” he introduced himself, happily following her lead and leaving out the surname. Gibbons still rolled weirdly off his tongue. “So, what is it you’re drinking for? To celebrate something or rather to suppress it?”

[eighthspromo]

For what it was worth, few could come up with personality flaws with Anya. She, herself, though, could come up with a number of them — a result of her being the only person who was in her head twenty-four seven. Her patience was lacking when it came to things that frustrated with her, and she would snap at even those closest to her. It was something she was trying to work on but, in her mind, there were more pressing matters to focus on and other problems to solve. She also had a habit of eavesdropping. This came to light most often when she was out in Bentley, simply walking around town. She liked to rationalize this habit with the reason why she had come there in the first place: her and Joseph needed to find out more about the magic that reigned in Bentley.

Just a few words reached her ears (blood, woods, die), but immediately she felt a shiver run down her spine. Anya’s immediate thoughts were dark magic — perhaps an overreaction — but she shook away the thought. She and Joseph hadn’t found witches who practiced that, and she knew that even if Litha wanted to she wouldn’t be able. When she locked eyes with the man who she heard speaking, she froze where he stood. She should have kept walking, never pausing to listen to more. His last sentence caused her to shake her head. She looked towards the ground, a nervous reaction, mumbling, “You might not want to, but you seem to be trying to.”

[ryanremembers]

In an almost challenging manner Ryan rose his eyebrows at the blonde stranger. “Does it?” he asked, the doubt in his voice wrong and the curiosity so entirely faked a blind man would be able to see through Ryan’s lies. A part of him expected her to protest, to insist on him telling the truth and speaking to the police about the obvious lack of evidence – there was no boy, no blood, no sign of a crime. “Personally, I would refer to it as an act of rescuing more than anything else. You might as well call me the town’s hero."

[ryanremembers]

{📱}Audrey +  Wrong Number

Audrey: 'You have the wrong number' would've sufficed.

Audrey: And you clearly read the whole thing, since you gave me a D-. Your humor gets an F, by the way.

Ryan: So would've a simple 'I'll kill you', but someone had to proof they're a literate bitch.

Ryan: My humor can hardly be that terrible when you're adopting it.

[waywardseeds-blog]

“Who’s next?” 

[ryanremembers]

“Next to buy you a drink or for you to drink under the table?” Ryan asked, a smirk already lingering on his lips. He gestured towards the girl’s drink and soon enough the bartender leaned over the counter to refill. “Second option’s gonna be tough on you.”

[ryanremembers]

{📱}Audrey +  Wrong Number

Audrey: What the fuck did you just fucking say about me, you little bitch? I’ll have you know I graduated top of my class in the Navy Seals, and I’ve been involved in numerous secret raids on Al-Quaeda, and I have over 300 confirmed kills. I am trained in gorilla warfare and I’m the top sniper in the entire US armed forces. You are nothing to me but just another target. I will wipe you the fuck out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this Earth, mark my fucking words. You think you can get away with saying that shit to me over the Internet? Think again, fucker. As we speak I am contacting my secret network of spies across the USA and your IP is being traced right now so you better prepare for the storm, maggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your life. You’re fucking dead, kid. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can kill you in over seven hundred ways, and that’s just with my bare hands. Not only am I extensively trained in unarmed combat, but I have access to the entire arsenal of the United States Marine Corps and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable ass off the face of the continent, you little shit. If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little “clever” comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your fucking tongue. But you couldn’t, you didn’t, and now you’re paying the price, you goddamn idiot. I will shit fury all over you and you will drown in it. You’re fucking dead, kiddo.

Ryan: A+ for composition, diction and syntax. You're getting minus points though for failing to make a death threat sound threatening. In total, because I'm feeling kind today, a D-.

Ryan: When you copy and paste that shit to send to the right person, try shortening it down. No one's gonna bother reading the whole paragraph and if you eventually show up to kill them, it'll be actual fear instead of an "OH! That was that message about."

[rhodestoruin]

“Oh, um…” Startled, Kian dropped his gaze as the girl sitting next to him at the library got up and started violently making out with someone. It didn’t matter that they were girls, but their PDA probably couldn’t be shown on regular TV. He propped an elbow on the table to block his view, although it did nothing to stop the flush from creeping up his neck, and wondered if it would be more rude to move or to stay and pretend it wasn’t happening. Embarrassed by proxy; welcome to Kian’s whole life.

[ryanremembers]

The local library was one of those wonderous places with a seemingly endless amount of knowledge hidden in books and the most curious conversations between people. After spending months inside of it, Ryan wasn’t shaken by any of it anymore. Even when he glanced up to find two girls profusely making out as though were trying to become the next porn stars, he couldn’t exactly be bothered. He couldn’t however hide the smirk either as his eyes fell onto the guy awkwardly sitting beside it. “You know, the threesome you’re imagining right now will happen without you if you keep staring at your fingers like that.”

[notwhatimurtaugh]

Franklin didn’t normally run late, but nothing in his life really felt normal anymore. He hurried into the coffee shop, sitting in front of the place he assumed was his client. “Okay, so. This house is truly beautiful. Built in 1973, hardwood floors, a fireplace, very-” He stopped, actually looking up at the person he was talking to. “You… aren’t my client, are you?”

[ryanremembers]

Logically, the local coffee shop belonged to one of the most favourite places to a man who was still hesitant to sleep. During the year after his awakening, black coffee had basically become one of Ryan’s best friends. A habit he had once already had. Ryan did not expect anyone to disturb his pondering; the bitter expression did wonders keeping people away, so when someone sat down in front of him and started speaking of a house, he was obviously surprised. His eyebrows shot up and a smirk grew on his lips as the realisation hit the stranger.  “What gave it away? The confusion or the absolute lack of interest?” Or did he look like someone absolutely uninterested in the 70s? Probably. “Seems like you got stood up though if the empty room is any indication, so please keep going. Knowing Bentley this description will probably end with the number of people who died in the house.”

[isaiahisback-blog]

“No, no, no, I have a press pass. I’m allowed to be here.”

[ryanremembers]

“Great, really. A piece of paper with your face and the word press written on it, that’s impressive and not easy to fake at all. Why don’t I just give you the keys to my house as well while we’re at it, because you've got that fancy press pass.”

[ryanremembers]

How is your amnesia doing? Can you recap how you got your current memories and do you remember anything new?

“Meh.”

“Here we go again: Last year I woke up in the outskirts of Bentley’s forest on the 8th of July. I was hurt – a head wound, my neck was strained, my lower back hurt though nothing severe. I didn’t remember how it happened or what exactly ‘it’ was. I didn’t remember anything other than my first name. It’s Ryan, but when you go to the hospital Ryan is not enough for them to call your family, when you go to the police it’s hardly enough to know if someone has reported you missing, when you go to apply for a job they send you away ‘cause you don’t have an ID, let alone a social security number. You know what it’s just good enough for? Being admitted to the hospital, because you’re confused, in fact, so confused you supposedly might end up hurting yourself or someone else. So, I am in the hospital. I get tested, get to hear ‘Do you remember yet?’ every goddamn day until they finally realise that ‘No, I don’t and I won’t.’ and I have to wonder who I am, what happened, where I am… They can’t keep you hospitalised forever, though. After about two months they let me go into a world that is entirely unfamiliar to me and with no one who can help me. I depend on a support system, because I’ve no money, no job, no family to take me in. So, I get a little apartment with empty walls, no decoration, only filled with the few items a single person needs to survive and honestly, it doesn’t bother me how untenanted it looks. I’m outside all day anyway, walking a city I’ve no memory of, meeting strangers who’re just as unfamiliar to me as I am to myself. For a while I thought that’s how it’d be from now on – every day the dull walks, forever the empty brain. That’s when the first nightmare came. I was in the woods again, someone was hunting me and as it turned out, it was me and someone else trying to kill… me, I guess. It absolutely did not make any sense to me. It still somehow doesn’t. Still, the nightmare had one good thing. It led me straight into the arms of Olivia Bentley who later tried everything in her might to make me remember at least something. Unsuccessfully, I might add. I also met this blonde girl, I don’t quite remember her name, but she said she had a similiar vision. She saw her own death. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I figured that dream, that nightmare might’ve been me foreseeing my own death. Turns out, that was a fucking stupid idea and the blonde chick is probably crazy. I had another nightmare, the second one, and it was different to the first. I was shot, but I was still able to hear the conversation between my killers. It made me think – two nightmares taking place in a forest and me quite clearly being a part of whatever was happening – so I went into Bentley’s woods, thinking if I can’t remember the town, there might be something in the forest that can help. Well, I was right. After almost four months of being on my own, being a no one called Ryan, I met a young man who recognised me… and who immediately attacked me. It was a lovely reunion, really. He broke my nose, threw a knife at me and threatened to kill me. He also told me, my name was Ryan Gibbons, I had fucked something up and I had a little brother: Him. I believed him at first, then I figured why the fuck would I believe a stranger saying he’s my brother, but the third nightmare came and it cleared a few things. I shot him, in the dream I mean. I assume I was running from them and then I turned and shot my little brother. In return, I killed myself again, or maybe not. I switched position with my dream-self, so technically… this time I was the killer instead of the victim. It’s an odd feeling to even consider this to be the truth. Yet, I’ve scars. I’ve scarred knuckles from wounds my dream told me were created by repeatedly punching someone in the face for shooting my brother. That makes you question if maybe, just maybe these nightmares are visions from the past you can’t remember otherwise. I tried to ignore it; the possibility of me not being who I thought I am, but it didn’t work too well. Only a month later, I had the next dream. Liv was in it and of course, they were meaning to kill her. I didn’t… I couldn’t sleep again after that. It started to drive me insane! I didn’t want to see any more nightmares of me dying or killing or whatever. Needless to say, it was a mistake. If you don’t sleep enough, you start to drift into daydreams more and more frequently. Reality begins to mix with whatever shit your brain is coming up with. Mine just had to come up with murder. On Bentley’s Christmas Gala I lost it, and in the process, I lost Olivia. In retrospect, that might’ve been a terrible mistake from my side but luck on hers. I am getting closer to who I am, but at the same time I feel as though I’m as far away as I’ve ever been. I left. I burried myself in the library for months to come, because if it was in my past it means many people died in the forest. I digged myself through the archive, but there’s nothing worthwhile in there and everyone I ask has never heard of killings happening inside the forest. I had one more dream though. A dream quite recently in which Death told me we were old friends. I know that sounds insane, but I can’t just brush it off. I need to find out what all of this is about. I need to find a way into the police archive. The deaths must’ve happened recently– in my dreams my brother and I do not look a day older than now – and especially when the murderers obviously haven’t been found yet, the police station must be filled with warnings and news on the crimes.”

[liliesandpotters-deactivated202]

❝I’m sick of having fourteen-year-olds break into my basement.  I know it’s creepy and old and spooky and that’s why they’re always daring one another to sneak inside, but one of these days it’s going to give my grandmother a fucking heart attack.❞

[ryanremembers]

❝So?❞ For once, Ryan’s voice was lacking every last bit of bitterness, or rudeness as one might call it. Instead, it carried curiosity. The question rather a ‘Why is that a problem?’ than a ‘Why do you tell me your problems?’ ❝If they’re so desperate to find out what’s happening in your house, give them an experience they won’t forget.❞

[teddylupines]

“Hey ! Would you mind doing whatever that is not so loudly? It’s - - - ” she looked down at her watch “- - - eleven a.m. People are still sleeping, you know.” 

[ryanremembers]

“You just said it yourself; it’s eleven a.m. Whoever is still sleeping is a slag and should probably get their ass up and find a job.” Quite clearly, Ryan did not let the woman’s irritation bother him (nor anyone else’s who had had a complaint already). In fact, he simply kept sawing the wooden platform apart, not even bothering to look at the woman. “If you didn’t catch it, the answer is no.”