#come to think of it I need to watch anabelle's wish too

[gnattyplayssims]

1940 Pt1 - Family Matters

Anabelle couldn't sleep. Everytime she closed her eyes Sofia was there. Her restlessness eventually woke Stefan and he sat up sleepily. "Sorry baby, go back to sleep." She waited till his breathing steadied then slipped from the room. She needed a distraction.

Things were quiet upstairs but there was light coming under Kye's door. She opened the door quietly and slipped inside.

"Anabelle what are you..." His eyes drifted down her body when he realized what she was wearing "...doing here?"

He swallowed as she came nearer.

She closed the space between them, pressing herself against him as she drew him into a hungry kiss. "I needed to see you. I...don't want to be alone tonight"

Kye responded with a moan against her mouth as he leaned deeper into her kiss his hands roaming over her.

He pulled away after a moment, "What happened to just being friends?"

She stepped forward, forcing him to take a step back "Forget that. I don't want that anymore. I want you."

He fell onto the bed and she climbed on top of him. He swallowed trying really hard to control himself

"It's okay." She soothed, running her hands through his hair. "You don't have to pretend you don't want this." She unfastened the buttons around his neck and slid his shirt over his head. "No dirt, or bugs just you and me. We won't even smell like smoke when we're done."

Kye wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer, giving in. She pushed him down on the bed her hands tracing over his body. Her kisses more fervent then he'd ever felt before. Like she would devour him. She bit his lip a little too hard. No, he had felt her like this before

He pushed her off him angrily, "What the plumb do you think you're doing!"

"What?"

"I'm not a fool, Anabelle, you've done this before! You make me feel incredible then what...you and Stefan are gone in the morning? No, I'm not letting that happen. Not this time."

Anabelle pulled her knees to her chest and started to cry, "I wasn't trying to..."

Her sobs hurt more than he thought anything could, even watching her ride away. He climbed onto the bed beside her and pulled her into his arms. "Hey I'm sorry. I-I just can't lose you again."

He held her until the tears subsided and she fell asleep.

"What's going on with you?" He whispered as he kissed her hair. He sighed, breathing in the sweet smell of her shampoo. He'd never imagined she could smell so good. It was too much. He left her there in his bed.

Carleton Greenburg was born on a rainy spring afternoon. Anabelle seemed the only one not overjoyed "Do I get to read this one?" Kye hovered over her as she slammed the book shut before he could peek at the poem "Is it about me?"

"No"

He sighed "Anabelle about the other night"

She grit her teeth about to make a rude remark when Stefan bounded in and their conversation was halted. She stood fighting back irritation at her son. The house was 4x the size of the tin can they had lived in back in Evergreen Harbor but it seemed there was far less space.

Hezekiah took an instant liking to Kailee's son. "Hi little guy! Oh wow he's so tiny!" Anabelle watched him nervously as he made faces at the baby. She was getting better at steeling herself against the regret but seeing him with Carleton made her wish they'd never even met.

"Was Stefan ever this small?"

He had suddenly turned his attention toward her and she jumped. "Oh, yes. Smaller actually"

"Wow"

He held Carleton out to her. "I don't think...okay." She couldn't help but smile and Kye thought it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

As time went on Anabelle began to spiral and Stefan became an easy target. "Are you okay?" Ivy asked after one particularly mean comment.

"Mind your own business" Ivy looked a bit hurt, "Wait no. It's just...she's my mom. What am I supposed to do?"

"You could talk to your dad"

Later that night, Kye found Stefan in the sitting room. "Hey buddy, your mom said you're refusing to come upstairs." Stefan rubbed his eye trying to be tough, "Is there a reason you're disobeying your mother?"

"Can I sleep down here with you?"

"Why would you want that?"

Stefan sniffed "I don't think mommy loves me"

"What? Why would you say that?"

"She always yells at me. Did I do something wrong?"

Kye's heart shattered and he pulled his son into his arms, "Of course not, mommy loves you! Sometimes adults get hurt too and it makes us mean."

"How bout we get you in bed and mommy and I will have a chat."

"Are you mad?"

"No, I'm worried, about you and about her." He scooped Stefan up holding him close.

But even as he said it he couldn't help but feel anger rising up in him. What made her think any of this was okay?

Kye tucked Stefan in and asked to see Anabelle in the hall. "What is it?"

"He thinks you don't love him."

"Why would he think that?"

"Cause you keep yelling at him"

"That's absurd. Is this about the milk thing? I merely told him not to be a pig, and save some for his cousin"

"Anabelle, he's five. He's learning and you call him a pig?"

"He'll get over it."

"No he'll carry it for the rest of his life just like I have!" He froze, he'd never talked to Anabelle about Marianna before. He took a shaky breath, "If this is about us then keep it between us."

Anabelle scoffed, "You're the one who chose not to be part of this family. You pushed us away."

"That's not what happened"

"It is!" She took an angry breath "I wanted to know you, Kye! You were the one who said you didn't want to ruin it with feelings. So, stop trying to ruin it now"

1940 Pt2 - Anabelle's Trauma

#mizrahi legacy #classic generation #decades challenge #sims 4 storytelling #ts4 storytelling #ts4 legacy

[kinglazrus]

For the prompt list thing any chance you wanna do random, #5?

Random #5 - “I would call you an imbecile but that’d be cruel as you wouldn’t be able to spell it.”

It Could be Weird

Danny’s life is weird. Everybody knows it. Even if they don’t know about his part-timejob of being dead, they know about his eccentric ghost-hunting parents, and his uptight psychology obsessed sister, and his own eternal fascination with space.

They know the food in his lunchbox is sometimes alive. They know the lump in his backpack’s water bottle holder isn’t a water bottle but a compact ectogun. They know Danny sleeps above a portal to another dimension.

But they don’t know the weirdest thing about Danny’s life which, amazingly enough,is not the fact that he’s half-dead. It’s that for the past five nights Danny has come home from ghost patrol to find Dash Baxter sitting in his living room, wearing glasses.

Tonight, Danny sneaks in through his bedroom window, phasing through the class. He dumpsthe thermos on his bed—he’ll empty it out later—shakes out the dust and dried ectoplasm from his hair and transforms. Snatching a hoodie off his chair, he fires a harmless ectoblast at his radio on his way out the door, cutting off the music he put on to make it seem like he was home.

He hops down the stairs, tugging the sleeves of his hoodie over his split knuckles, and pauses on his way to the kitchen. Just like yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that, Dash sits cross-legged in front of the coffee table. His homework is spread out before him, a textbook at his elbow, a pencil in his hand, and a frown on his face.

Jazz sits on the couch holding an identical textbook—Danny’s copy, he recognizes thebloodstain on the spine—and quietly talks Dash through a lesson on cellular development.

Despite coming home to a similar scene four days in a row, it’s still so bizarre thathe stares too long and Jazz catches him watching.

“Did you do your homework?” Jazz asks. The unspoken before ghost hunting lingers between them.

“No.”

“Liar.”

“Fine. I’m going to do it now,” he says.

“You’re still lying,” Jazz singsongs. She slips a page in Danny’s textbook and glances up at him. “You need to keep your grades up if you want to keep…”

She glances at Dash, who’s pencil has stopped moving and is sitting oddly still.

“… making friends. After school.”

“Making friends.” Danny raises an eyebrow at her. He wishes that’s what he was doing after school. It’d be a hell of a lot kinder on his bones.

Jazz flushes but refuses to be cowed. “Get your stuff, you’re working in here.”

Danny tips his head back, groaning, and heads back upstairs to get his backpack.

—

Danny hasn’t touched his homework in five minutes. He gnaws on the end of his pencil,the metal band squishing between his teeth, flicking the eraser with his tongue to make the pencil swing back and forth. Every few seconds, Jazz sends him an admonishing look over the top of Danny’s textbook.

“That’s not working,” she says.

“I’m contemplating the philosophic implications of my assignment,” Danny says.

Jazz doesn’t look impressed.

Danny doesn’t really blame her. His chin is resting on a math textbook.

“It’s important,” he says. “How can I figure out how many pounds of fudge Anabelle has leftover without first considering why she has it? Or where she got it from? Or what the hell a triangle has to do with it?”

Maybe she’s a distant relative of their father’s.

Jazz rolls her eyes and leans over Dash’s shoulder, scanning the questions he’s working on.

“This one’s wrong,” she says, pointing halfway down the page.

Dash huffs, scowling, and furiously erases his answer.

It fascinates Danny. He’s never seen Dash so focused on something that didn’t involve a football or beating Danny up. Not to mention the glasses. Since when does Dash have glasses? They’ve been in the same class since kindergarten and he’s never seen them before.

Not to mention, Dash hasn’t insulted Danny once since he sat down on the other side of the table. Maybe Dash got hit in the head by a stray ectoblast when Kitty showed up during gym class.

Danny spits his pencil out of his mouth, ignoring the disgusted look Jazz gives him,and says, “I thought you already proved you could tutor the ‘untutorable.’”

“I did,” Jazz says. Shaking her long sleeve out over her hand, she reaches out and swats Danny’s pencil back toward him. “I thought you were being philosophical about brownies.”

“Fudge,” Danny corrects her. “And I decided the Fenton appetite is beyond the comprehension of even the greatest philosophers.”

“Anabelle’s a Fenton now?”

“My favourite cousin.”

“Uh-huh.” Jazz closes her borrowed textbook and sets it down on the cushion beside her, folding her hands in her lap. “If you aren’t going to do your work you can just–”

“Jazz!” Their mother’s voice echoes up the basement stairs. “Can you come downhere for a moment?”

Jazz sighs but gets up without a fuss. She points at Danny before heading downstairsand says, “Be nice. Don’t distract my student.”

“Me? But he's­– wait, your student?”

Jazz turns away, leaving Danny sputtering and alone with Dash.

It takes Danny a moment to compose himself. When he does, he shoves his homeworkaside, slams his hand on the table, and leans across it into Dash’s personal space.

“Okay, what the hell, why do you keeping coming here?” Danny asks. “Are you hitting on my sister again? Because she already said no, don’t be a creep. I sent the last guy who messed with her to the Ghost Zone.”

Rather than leaning away, Dash gets in Danny’s face and sneers. “Chill out, Fenturd, don’t be an ass.”

“If you're–”

“I said chill out.” Dash shoves Danny’s face away. “You’re sister’s pretty smart, okay? And I need help with science.”

“You really think I’m gonna believe that?” Danny sits back and crosses his arms. Like hell. He remembers how gross Dash was hitting on his sister in ninth grade. Two years was not long enough to recover from that emotional travesty.

“I’m failing the class, okay?” Dash snaps, cheeks red. “I gotta pull my grade up to a C or else I’m off the football team.”

“Oh.” The fight goes out of Danny pretty quickly. He scratches his head and looksaway. “Okay, whatever. My grades aren’t that great either.”

“Yeah, but you’re a loser.”

“Seriously?” Danny glares across the table. “You can’t be civil for two seconds? I wastrying to be nice or whatever, but if you’re just gonna be an ass about it, fine. Wonder how you’re friends’d react to that.”

Dash wrinkles his nose. “What? They already know.”

“And they didn’t kick you out of your little club?” Danny asks flippantly.

“You think we’re that shallow?”

Danny stares at Dash. He can’t be serious. He can’t be that oblivious. All the A-listers care about are looks, money, and popularity, and Danny knows that firsthand.

“I bet Valerie does.”

Dash at least has the mind to look ashamed, and Danny feels a little vindicated at the sight of his downturned eyes.

“You guys were pretty damn cruel to her after she lost all her money. Are you telling me that wasn’t shallow?” Danny asks smugly.

“Like you’re so great, Fenton.”

“A hell of a lot better than you.”

Dash laughs. It’s loud and mocking, and he throws his head back as he does it. “Oh my god. You know how many times I’ve seen you brush off those friends of yours? Didn’t you, like, ditch them to go to a party freshman year? And you replaced them with robots once.”

“Hey, there was more going on there!” Danny defends himself. He doesn’t even know how Dash heard about the robots, but there was more to it, a ghost that could make you greedy.

Danny took care of it pretty quickly once he realized what was up, although that didn’t stop him from feeling like a massive jerk afterwards. But at least he didn’t mean it, and he knew he was a bad friend at that time.

“I don’t think you realize how much I don’t give a shit,” Dash says. “Just leave me alone, Fenton. And if you tell anyone besides my friends about this, I’ll shove you in so many lockers.”

Danny scowls. “Fine. Don’t flirt with my sister though.”

“No problems there. I’m not into girls.”

It takes Danny a second to process that. “Huh.”

“You got a problem with that?”

“What? No. Like, pretty much everyone I’m friends with is in the queer community,myself included. I thought you liked Paulina. And, you know, you flirted with my sister? And pretty much every single cheerleader.” Danny thinks back, trying to remember if there were any hints. Dash used to flirt with girls a lot, but he can’t actually remember him hitting on anyone in the past year. “You know what that is? Growth.”

“Don’t quote gifs at me, loser.” There’s less bite in Dash’s insult and more resignation. The sound of a man who will put up with what he hates for something he needs.

Danny almost smiles. Almost. Dash is still a massive dick, but Danny hates him a little less than usual right now, if only because he isn’t trying to get with Jazz after all.

They fall silent, Dash returning to his work while Danny just sits there and thinks. He glances toward the stairs once, wondering what’s taking Jazz so long, but doesn’t totally mind it. Being alone with Dash isn’t as horrible as he thought it’d be.

He gets bored pretty damn quickly though.

“Okay, the glasses, you have to tell me,” Danny says.

Dash groans, closing his notebook. “They’re glasses. I wear them and stuff gets less blurry. Fascinating.”

“Yeah, but I mean!” Danny waves his arms in a meaningless gesture. “Since when do you have them?”

“Since I got them.”

“Oh my god, I hate you.”

“Feeling’s mutual.”

“I’d call you a sap, but I think you’d punch me for it,” Danny quips, unable to resist.

“I’d call you a loser, but it’s redundant.”

“I can’t believe you know what redundant means.”

Dash glares at Danny. Normally that look makes Danny nervous, because it’s usually followed by a punch to the got or some other, equally painful retribution, but right now Danny’s actually enjoying himself and Dash doesn’t look like he’s about to snap.

“Quick, write the word down before you forget it,” Danny says, tapping Dash’s notebook.

“Shut up, you moron.” Dash swats Danny’s hand with his pencil.

“Oh no, you’re backsliding. Write it fast.”

“Shut up!”

“Want some help? Here, r-e-t-”

“You are such a fucking idiot.”

Danny beams. “I’d call you an imbecile, but I think that’d be cruel since you probably can’t spell it.”

“I swear to god, Fenton.”

“Hey, don’t be mean to my brother!”

Danny ducks his head to hide the shit-eating grin on his face as Jazz returns. She’s glaring at Dash, who sputters as he tries to defend himself, and Danny silently vows to join them for tomorrow’s study session, too, if this is what it’s going to be like.

#I mainly reblogged those lists for my own future use to practice writing #I didn't actually thinking anyone would send me a prompt #but I was so delighted to see this in my inbox #feel free to send in other prompts! #I need to work on my oneshot skills #me? slightly altering canon in a small oneshot to make up for massive character arc plotholes in one of the most hated episodes of the show #You know it #I didn't really edit #just tossed it through grammarly really quick #so I hope it's okay #unlucky alis #lazwrites #anon #the king answers #danny phantom #dash baxter #danny fenton #bros bonding sort of #dash and danny friendship in a way #phanfiction #phanfic #danny phantom fanfiction #tumblroneshots

[sprinkle-jay]

duchess of gumberly

Might I interest you all in a... Jet character study? (Also on AO3)

Jet is born two minutes before Ruby, a fact that she despises deep down. Not that she’d wish being heir on her twin sister, she just doesn’t want to rule a kingdom. She’d much rather be fighting, though of course she also had to have been cursed to have been born in a time of peace. Growing up in Castle Candy means far too many lessons for her to enjoy any of them. Chancellor Lapin drones on and on and she can hardly bring herself to care. She and Ruby sneak out, go to Dulcington and talk to Cirinda, get letters from Thad, toss gems at the peasants there. And oh how she wishes she could be one of them, living far away from the castle. More than anything, she wants to learn how to fight, she wants to learn how to use a sword, wants to know how it feels to stab something with one. She’s always been obsessed with war.

As she continues to grow up, the lessons she’s taught never get more interesting. She begs Theobald for combat training, for him to teach her a stunning blow at the very least. He always refuses to teach her, telling her she has to be heir. She sometimes goes to the statues of her aunts, stares at Aunt Rococoa’s statue in admiration. She’s Jet’s inspiration and Jet wants to be like her, a complete badass in combat. Screw sitting around and learning about history and etiquette, if no one will teach her how to fight then she’ll just have to teach herself. So she sharpens a candy cane and learns how to stab things with it. She’s always been obsessed with war.

The twins sneak out again on their 18th Saint’s Day, using scarecrows to fool Lapin as he drones on and on, engrossed in his lesson. And after they’re done being lectured, when their mother goes to speak with Liam, their father walks over to them with two boxes. She hides her excitement for a moment until her father hands her the Twizzling Blade, Flickerish, her aunt Rococoa's sword. Immediately she goes to train against Theobald, all the while informing him that she'll replace him. He tells her that she can do that when she's queen but she doesn't want to be queen, she wants to be a soldier in a great war. She's always been obsessed with war.

When their mother comes back with their father, she talks to them about the Concord and Jet desperately wracks her brain for anything she knows about it. Nothing comes to mind quickly enough and so she makes something up about notes. But it doesn’t matter because her mom tells her that they’ll be able to go to Comida for the tournament and the twins can barely contain their excitement in their interlocked pinkies. Of course, their enthusiasm is slightly curbed by the fact that there won't be time for gift shops or exploration, but the thought of a tournament is more than enough to balance that out. But later that night at the banquet, her curiosity is piqued when she witnesses Lapin sneaking out of the room. She and Liam follow him and overhear his conversation with the Sugar-Plum Fairy, something the twins and Liam keep in mind in case they need to blackmail him. It pisses Jet off when Lapin questions if her family is even worth it, though she keeps her anger in check until she has a chance to confront him. She’s always been obsessed with war.

Then they’re on their way to Comida, Jet bothering Lapin about the Sugar-Plum Fairy while Ruby does tricks on top of the carriage. It’s supposed to be “safe and healthy and unexciting” in Ruby’s words, just a simple journey from one kingdom to another. But they’ve stopped because of a fallen tree in the road and Jet can see Theo tense up as he looks outside but there isn’t enough time to react. Jet feels Ruby collapse, tries to steady her even though she knows what happened, even as she hears more arrows thudding into the carriages. She yells to Lapin to heal Ruby and climbs up on top of the carriage, laying perfectly on top of her twin to shield her. She can’t lose Ruby, Ruby needs to join the circus, they need to get an apartment in Dulcington. When Lapin heals Ruby, Jet grabs her tight and hugs her before rushing into battle. She watched Theobald’s first turn in battle and she can’t believe he’s actually cool. And she’s determined to prove herself in battle, too. She’s always been obsessed with war.

So she rushes forward, relishes the feeling of making her blade stabbing into the cheese bandit, relishes the taste of the blood she licks off of Flickerish. She sees Theobald’s shock and she hears her father’s pride. This is everything she’s always wanted, fighting has always fascinated her. The fight continues on and her father falls unconscious several times. She rushes over to him and puts her locket around his neck, glancing back in surprise as Theo blocks a blow meant for her with his shield. Maybe now he’ll give her fighting lessons. The imperial army arrives with Commander Constano Grissini at the front and he fights with her, praising her abilities in battle. And she finds that she’s proud of herself. She’s always been obsessed with war.

After the fight she searches for a Carnish shield before she goes to talk to Liam, asking him for help in watching over Ruby. There’s no way Jet is leaving her twin without protection, not after that fight. Liam agrees and Jet goes off to talk to Grissini, partially to spy and partially because she wants to talk about combat. But Theobald repeatedly tries to get her to join them in the cramped carriage and eventually Ruby joins in. She goes into the carriage with no intention of listening to what they have to say until her father yells at them to start listening. And she listens to their explanation of magic with anger. Later, when Theobald tells the twins and Liam about Aunt Lazuli, Jet’s anger grows. So many incredible things can be done with magic but everyone is too scared to accept it. Fuck the Concord, she’ll go to war if they do anything to her sister. She’s always been obsessed with war.

At the banquet, Jet meets Thad for the first time in ten years and is instantly repulsed. She struggles through conversation with him before telling him to wait for her in an alley. He goes and she assumes he waits for her all night. In the meantime, she debates signing up for the tournament with everyone else, making sure to get their opinions and advice before doing anything. Her father tells her to sign up for the melee and she does, glad that he’s letting her participate. Before it starts, she Messages Theobald and Ruby, worried about her father, asking what to do if he goes down. The tournament starts and Jet immediately yells to Anabelle, tells her and everyone else present that she won’t marry. Maybe she brings shame to her family with her exclamation, but it seems to get Anabelle on her side and that’s all that matters in the moment. She turns and attacks Grissini, directs him towards the alley without a second thought. Anabelle runs up and joins Jet in attacking Grissini and Jet is awed by her. She’s always been obsessed with war.

For a moment, Jet is so caught up in the fighting that she doesn’t notice anything wrong with her father. But then he jumps over the fence and lies down and she knows something’s happened. Scravoya jumps over after him and swings down on him as Jet watches on in horror. Even though something had been telling her to expect this, she doesn’t know what to do. Scravoya is disarmed, her father is healed, Liam finds the source of the poison, Ruby pulls out the daggers, and Jet can feel herself breath again. It’s the second time in the past week that her father has almost been killed and Jet is determined to make sure it doesn’t happen again. As they return to their chambers, she puts herself in the middle of all of her family, worried about all of them. And she comes to a decision about her future, she will take the throne. And when she’s King of Candia, magic will be legal. She’ll open up a kindergarten and teach them magic. It doesn’t matter to her what the rest of Calorum thinks about magic, she’ll fight them on it if she has to. She’s always been obsessed with war.

She and Ruby sneak out into Comida, weave through the city with Ciabatta, hop fences and search. They watch as Ciabatta expertly kills a guard and disposes of his body. The scene is gruesome, but Jet can’t deny that she’s fascinated and impressed. They find Alfredi’s lab, her secrets, her poisons. They find her blackmail, Ciabatta burning some papers and taking the Ceresian blackmail for himself. He’s efficient and so cool. They return back to the chambers, Jet and Ruby immediately gushing about everything they’d done. While they’re sharing everything they learned on their excursion, discussing everything that’s happened, there is a knock at the door. It opens and Lapin enters with dozens of knights, announces he’s there to arrest Liam, and Jet is filled with rage. She steps forward with her father, blocking Liam from view. There’s no way she’s just going to let him be arrested, she’ll stand against the knights to prevent it if need be. She’s always been obsessed with war.

It’s tense in the chapel, the Emperor died overnight but the paperwork was never filled out. Liam is there suspected of witchcraft, standing up to say that Amethar was named successor with Theobald. Jet discreetly tries to read her banned book and find out more about the Profidian Heresy and the Ramsian Doctrine, but stops when Plumbeline claims Ciabatta was named heir. Her father and Plumbeline go to swear on Aunt Citrina’s Book of Leaves and Jet feels a brief sense of relief when Plumbeline admits to lying, only to start in shock at the Pontifex’s questions. She instinctively grabs for Ruby’s hand and flinches in surprise as she is called a bastard, as her father is excommunicated, as war is declared. She’s filled with anger as she pulls out Flickerish, determined to fight the Pontifex, completely disregarding the dangerous circumstances they’re all in. She’s out for blood, fuck the Bulbian Church and everything it’s done to her family. She’s always been obsessed with war.

#dimension 20 #acoc #acoc spoilers #a crown of candy #crown of candy #jet rocks #jay's fic tag

[godlessfm]

⤿  ––––  op,  well,  hello  !  i’m  neptune  and  since  my  intro  posts  are  always  miles  long,  i’m  gonna  try  and  keep  dis  as  short  as  possible  (  spoiler  alert:  it  was  not  short  ).  also.  there’s  300+  typos  in  this  and  i’m  so  sorry  if  none  of  it  makes  sense.  u  got  questions  about  any  of  this,  i  can  answer  it  the  best  i  can.

( harry styles, demiboy , he/they, 26 ) no way ! i swear i saw west holiday walking down danforth avenue ! i just saw a post about them on 6secrets ! i think it said something like “heart breaking, heartthrob west holiday seen drunkenly flirting with another taken starlet”. isn’t that wild ? i guess that makes sense since they’re apparently shameless and cynical. fans will claim that they’re ( indomitable ) and ( charming ). i mean , it’s not like i know them personally — they’re a famous singer/songwriter. whenever i think of them, i think of crinkling crows feet on the edge of green eyes when someone makes you smile, wild curls that were purposefully styled to look like chic bed head, a small figure swallowed in a button up that is too big for them. i wish i would have asked for an autograph !  * the 1975 career claim !

so,  first  and  foremost.  fuck  this  kid.  i  hate  this  guy  and  i’m  sure  you  will  too.  not  because  i  think  he’s  fleshed  out  bad  or  anything,  he’s  just  the  #Worst. i’m  just  gonna  go  straight  onto  bullet  points  bc  this  will  actually  take  years  if  i  rant  on  about  this  boy.

to  start  of,  he  didn’t  really  grow  up  great.  like  ya  he  was  mad  rich,  but  his  two  moms  cannot  stand  each  other.  they  were  constantly  yelling  at  each  other  and  throwing  things  but  hey.  west  just  kind  of  *wipes  tears  w  hundos*  so  he  didn’t  think  it  was  that  rough

he  grew  up  mainly  in  cheshire,  england,  there  for  he  has  a  pretty  heavy,  thick accent  that  comes  across  in  his  music.  i mean.... his  career  claim  is  the 1975  so you  know  that  i  mean

uh  he  has  lil,  baby  sister,  anabelle .  she’s  v  small  so  sadly  no  wc.  but  she  is  his  whole  world  and  if  you  saw  them  together  u  would  think  west  has  nice  twin  brother.  he  doesn’t  but.  if  he  did.... west  is  the  evil  twin.

though  they  always  fought  they  stayed  together  for  some  dumb  reason,  that  dumb  reason  that  they’re  lil  boy  got  MAD  RICH.  he  started  of  making  some  cash  by  playing  out  on  busy  foot  traffic  areas  and  having  a  guitar  case  wide  open .  and  people  would  just  toss  money  in  there  and  once  he  saw  a  career  in  this  he  straight  up  just  dropped  out  of  high  school  and  pursued  music.  basically,  what  i’m  saying  is,  he’s  dumb. big  dumb.

besides  being  the  biggest  dummy  he’s  really  super  talented  i  swear.  the  only  problem  is  that’s  his  ONLY  redeeming  quality. im  not  even  being  dramatic.  that’s it. that’s  the  only  good  thing  about  him.  like  yeah,  he’s  charming  and  he’s  strong  or  whatever  but  do u  think  he  uses  that  for  good ??? NO.

he’s  quite  literally  the  guy  you  have  in  your  phone  as  ‘DNR’  bc  if  u  do  he’s  gonna  try  and  charm  you  into  coming  over  just  so  he  can  hook  up  with  you  and  get  you  an  uber  when  y’all  are  done.  he  won’t  even  cuddle  u  wtf  bro.

TRUE LIFE: I’m A Disaster Bi

if  y’all  wanted  to  know  he  is  covered  in  tattoos  just  like  harry,  and  he’s  short - haired  harry.  even  tho  as  my  fren  put  it:  all  harry  lives  matter.  watch  me  making  west  grow  it  out  bc  long - haired  harry  is  my  personal fave.  we’ll  see  how  long  it  takes  for  me  to  cave. place ur Bets

uh . so  about  that  headline ... am  i  right  Laid  Ease. basically  he  was  seen  flirting  with  another  rich  kid  /  celeb  that  is  publicly  taken !  cool  plot  there !  please  hit  me  up  if  you  think  it’d  work

pls  dont  be  offended  if  y’all  have  slept  together / met  and  he  doesn’t  remember  you  name .  chances  are  he  will  call  you  bro,  dude,  babe,  etc  until  he  remembers  your  name  or  you  remind  him

west  has  this  rly  weird  habit,  it’s  kind  of  funny.  HE WILL TRY  AND  SHOVE  HIMSELF  INTO  YOUR  DRAMA  BC  HE  IS  BORED.  like  sure. he  means  well  ........ Well. no  he  doesn’t.  he’s  a  little  shit  and  is  so  proud  of  it

pls  hate  him.  im  beggin  u  he  thrives  of  being  hated,  he  rly  does  like  he’s  got  fans  that  love  him  and  see  the  him  that  stops  to  take  pictures/calls  you  honey/loves  his  fans.  but  he’s  like..... simply  put ?? A  Dick.

u h.  so  since  he’s  horrible  he’s  never. EVER. been  in  love.  any  relationship  he’s  ever  been  in  is  100%  fake  and  means  nothing  to  him.  it’s  all  for  pr  and  he  knows  it’ll  get  his  ratings  up  so  like.

i  truly  cannot  think  of  anything  else  so  like....... uh . pls  plot  with  me.  i’ll  make  him  a  pinterest  in  a  lil  bit.  but  until  then,  this  is  all  i’ve  got.  he’s  still  a  total  work  in  progress  but  u  kno .

okay ! so  ! that  was  a  giant  mess.  but,  i do  have  a  quick  little  list  of  wcs  before  i  actually  work  up  a  whole  wc  page  !

001.  100%  smash  on  a  game  of  smash  or  pass:  uh . so lets  say  west  played  a  game  of  smash  or  pass  on  a  talk  show  and  they  asked  him  who  is  his  number  one  smash.  das  where  ur  muse  comes  in .  ur  muse  is  his  number  one  smash.  ALWAYS.

002.  most  recent  public  relationship:  so  west  and  ur  muse  were  probably  spotted  out  somewhere  and  his  pr  team  was  like.  wow  ur  album  is  blowin  up  keep  asking  this  person  to  hang  out  with  and  plead  the  fifth  if  they  ask  if  y’all  are  together.  ur  muse  can  choose  whether  they  were  together  or  not.  but  at  this  point  they’re  definitely  NOT  together,  but  they  could’ve  stayed  friends  or  not.  we  luv  enemies.

003.  dead to me:  would  absolutely  kill  for  this  plot. bc i  LOVE  enemy  plots .  but  basically  west  and  ur  muse  dated,  you  know,  for  pr.  he  didn’t  love  them  no way jose.  but  it  ended  REALLY  badly  and  ur  muse  absolutely  despises  him... rightfully  so.  but  basically  we  can  totally  work  on  this  but  i’m  sure  they  get  into  twitter  feuds.  their  breakup  was  v messie  GIVE  IT  TO  ME.

004.  i  need  just  one  person  to  not  hate  his  man........  just  give  him  one  single friend.  it’s  all  he’s  allowed  i  swear.

#sixhqintro #whoops. no one saw when i messed up the first time. a few things changed but nothing too major !

[artificialqueens]

One step, not much (but it said enough) (Branjie) - Writworm42

A/N: For Athena, who asked for a fic based off of the viral video of the woman giving her girlfriend a kidney. TW Medical. I did relatively little research for this fic–PLEASE lmk if I fucked something up!!!

Title from You Are In Love by Taylor Swift. Thank you thank you thank you Holtzmanns for being a wonderful beta <3

Two years ago, Brooke hadn’t been able to stand the sight of needles. She hated even thinking about organs, and the sight of blood always made her feel faint. She wouldn’t have ever thought that she would get used to the sickening, too-sharp-but-too-subtle smell of latex and sanitizer that seemed to pervade every corner of every hospital in the city. She hadn’t known anything about dialysis or kidney disease, or what it looked like for a loved one to sit in an armchair overlooking a window in some failed attempt at distraction, dark circles gathering under their eyes while they counted cars in the parking lot, waiting for their treatment to finish. She hadn’t known what it would look like for them to do it every day.

But that was two years ago, and even today, she would go through that learning curve all over again for the woman sitting across from her, squeezing her hand.

“Okay, look.” Vanessa signals Brooke, who opens her eyes to see Vanessa sitting in her usual chair, arm slung over its armrest and attached to a host of tubes that rapidly begin to fill with thick red liquid, liquid that surges up and cycles towards a thick, heavy machine behind them before flowing back down into Vanessa’s arm again.

“So, what do you want to do now?” Brooke watches as Vanessa leans back and closes her eyes, sighing deeply. The shorter woman opens her eyes again just long enough to shrug.

“Honestly, I just kinda wanna sleep.”

Brooke holds in the sigh she feels bubble in her throat, leans back, and lets Vanessa sleep.

Well, intends to–within the next minute, Vanessa pops up again, not quite alert but certainly not as tired as she had seemed a moment ago.

“You got Game of Thrones on your iPad today, Mary?” she asks sheepishly, and Brooke smiles, nodding enthusiastically.

Two years ago, Brooke never would have guessed that she’d get to know every nurse on the nephrology floor by name, or that she’d never miss salt as much as she thought she would.

But she’d do it all over again, as long as she gets to see Vanessa fall asleep in the passenger seat next to her on the way home, safe and sound and alive alongside her for just one more day.

Sure, life isn’t what Brooke thought it would be. But Vanessa is stable, and they’re okay, and all things considered, life is good.

–

“I don’t like the look of your bloodwork.” Dr. Ganache leans back, squinting at the chart up on her computer as if trying to find something she’s missing. Brooke wishes she was, she really does; but from the look on Vanessa’s face as she peers over at Dr. Ganache’s computer too, she can tell that the doctor’s charts are indisputable.

“The dialysis ain’t workin’ anymore, is it?” Vanessa swallows hard, and Brooke doesn’t even have to ask before reaching out her hand for Vanessa to grab, the smaller woman squeezing it tightly as she lets out a shaky breath.

Say we’re wrong, say we’re wrong, tell us there’s other options…

“It’s not that it’s not working entirely. It’s just that it’s…not nearly as effective, and it’s declining faster than usual.” Dr Ganache shakes her head, and somehow, Brooke doesn’t breathe any easier.

“What are my options?” Vanessa’s voice is shaky, her grip on Brooke’s hand tightening even further.

“At this rate, you’re gonna need a transplant.”

They’d known this was coming; they’d known that this would be inevitable. They had always known that eventually, Vanessa would need a new kidney. But hearing it is…well, it’s something else, something nothing on earth could have prepared Brooke for.

Because it isn’t just eventually any more. It isn’t just some day. It’s now. Vanessa needs a new kidney now , and from what Dr. Ganache is saying–from what Brooke is able to absorb, ‘ now’ isn’t a realistic option.

The average wait for an anonymous donor is three to five years.  

It has already been two.

How many more can they wait?

–

They don’t talk about it that night, or the next night, or the next. There’s nothing much to say; Vanessa’s on the donor list, Vanessa keeps going to dialysis, keeps pretending nothing is wrong.

Except something is. And nothing is the same.

They play scrabble and Brooke avoids spelling out ‘KIDNEYS’ even though it would be a 70-point word. They watch Grey’s Anatomy and Vanessa gets up to go to the bathroom every time there’s a surgical scene. They go to bed and hold each other close, and even though things are normal, things are okay, they have a new bedfellow, and it’s the size of an elephant.

Three to five years.  

Three to five years more of blood tests telling them they have less and less hope.

Three to five years.

Three to five years more of being sitting ducks.

Three to five years.

Three to five years more of deciding not to go to church on Sunday, because they can’t stand being held hostage by God, not any more.

Until Vanessa is out with friends, and Brooke is taking a break from work, and emerges from her home office just long enough to flip through TV channels in the living room. Amidst the soap operas and Maury reruns, there’s a news feature on a woman whose next-door neighbour has given her his kidney. No wait. No fee. No scrambling. He’d gotten match-tested, and then he’d given it to her, all in the span of a couple months.

A couple month is a lot shorter than three to five years.

Brooke’s never had surgery at all before, let alone one as major as a kidney donation. She’s only ever learned precautions and made nephrological health-conscious lifestyle changes for Vanessa, never full-out for herself. It’d be hard, a major commitment, and a risky one at that.

But a couple months for a life’s worth of a sure future with Vanessa is a lot better than three to five years filled with question marks.

So without much other consideration, she gets out her laptop and starts to research.

–

“No.”

Brooke blinks, shock overtaking her like a kick in the face. “No?”

“No.” As if to add insult to injury, Vanessa rolls her eyes, her voice curt. “It’s too risky, Brooke.”

“But it’s risky for you too!” Brooke points out, her voice rising a little. “The more you wait, the sicker you’ll be, and then an already-risky surgery will become even more dangerous.”

Vanessa says nothing, and for a moment, anxiety seeps into Brooke’s chest, thoughts and regrets filling her mind.

Has she gone too far? Has she said something she isn’t supposed to? Fuck, she’s hinted at the one thing they don’t want to talk about, the one thing that’s always in their minds but that they had silently agreed never to speak into existence–

“I know. I just… I just don’t want you to suffer because of me.” Vanessa mumbles, barely audible, her eyes low.

“Oh, baby.” Brooke softens, grabbing Vanessa’s hand and giving it a tight, comforting squeeze, smiling when Vanessa’s eyes trail up to meet hers. “I already suffer plenty because of you, but that has more to do with your personality and fashion sense than your kidneys.”

Vanessa laughs, loud and barking and finally herself again, and just like that, Brooke knows it’s all going to be okay.

“I did the research into the risks and everything. It’s no summer stroll, but it’s not as dangerous as I know you’re probably thinking it is. It could work, Vanessa. But that’s besides the point right now–all we have to do now is test to see if it’s a match. We can take it from there.”

“Alright.” Vanessa nods, a smile spreading across her face. “Let’s get tested. We’ll take it from there.”

When Brooke kisses her, it’s different than it usually feels–not any less loving, not any less meaningful or sentimental, but somehow, renewed. Full of hope.

Like they’re secretly telling each other that they’ll never let each other go.

–

Vanessa is in the shower when Brooke gets the call.

“You’re a match, Brooke.” Dr. Ganache’s voice is as excited as Brooke feels when she delivers the news, and Brooke feels like she could faint, she really does. “If Vanessa agrees, we can start scheduling and prepping the surgery for some time next month.”

She’s a match. Vanessa’s getting a kidney. Her kidney.

She thanks Dr Ganache and hangs up the phone in a trance, only remembering to breathe once she’s finished dialing Vanessa’s mom to tell her the good news.

Vanessa’s getting a kidney. Vanessa’s getting a kidney. And Brooke gets to be the one to tell her.

The minute she realizes that, a new idea pops into her head, and she tells Anabelle she’ll call her back from her cell, that she’s got to get to the dollar store right away.

–

Brooke doesn’t bother to tell their families to be quiet when coming in and set up because she knows that Vanessa rests after something as strenuous as showering these days. Vanessa is either asleep, or she’ll come out of their room to see what is going on, which is just as well at this point. For the past half hour, Brooke’s been moving faster than she ever has in her life, calling and ordering and buying and cutting and gluing the perfect surprise for Vanessa. Now people are flooding through their front door dragging balloons and cakes, with the main piece, the piece de resistance they plan to use to break the news, nestled in Brooke’s arms.

“Hide the balloons and cakes in the kitchen, then come out to the living room.” she whispers under her breath to the others, who scurry away to do as she says.

For her part, Brooke can hardly contain her own excitement as she rushes about to adjust everything, make sure everything is perfect, until finally, the sounds of stirring from upstairs make her jump to attention.

“Baby?” Vanessa’s voice sounds from the top of the stairs and everyone freezes.

This is it.

“In the living room!” Brooke calls, trying her best to keep her voice level and calm. The efforts fail, however, and it’s just as well–Vanessa’s never been able to resist a surprise, and so within a few seconds, she’s flown down the stairs and into the room, cheeks flushed with excitement.

“What’s everyone doing here?” Vanessa frowns, despite the ghost of a smile on her face that begins to appear as she looks around the room. “We havin’ a party or something?”

“Or something.” Brooke grins, grabbing Vanessa by the hand and giving her a kiss before leading her over to the table where a big gift box sits right at the centre.

“Open it.” Brooke nudges the box towards Vanessa, laughing when Vanessa obeys without hesitation, attacking the box with eager hands to unwrap it and tear off the top.

Vanessa’s face when she begins to go through the box’s contents is priceless, her smile so wide and happy that Brooke wishes she could frame the memory of it and keep it on their wall forever. Each gift gets Vanessa more and more excited, and Brooke is so entertained that almost forgets the real surprise that’s waiting. Finally, though, Vanessa’s scooped away every crayon packet, stuffed frog, and puzzle book, and there’s only two gifts left in the box. A pikachu bucket hat that Vanessa spends a good two minutes modelling and taking pictures in, and a sheet of poster paper, just over legal size.

“Come on, mija, read it!” Vanessa’s mother prompts, shaking Vanessa away from her Christmas-morning-like state and redirecting her towards the still-waiting poster.

“Okay, okay, I’m going!”

There’s a pause while Vanessa looks over the paper, everyone holding their breath and watching for her reaction, some of her family pulling out their phones to capture the moment.

“Baby, I…” Vanessa looks back up at Brooke, her hands over her mouth, and Brooke sees that there are tears in Vanessa’s eyes, tears that are barely keeping from spilling over as she begins to bounce in happiness, the rhythm of her movements on her toes speeding up as the message on the paper truly sinks in.

“We did it, baby,” Brooke grins, “You’re getting a new kidney.”

Vanessa’s scream of joy is heard down the street, and soon the house is full of friends and neighbours come to hear what’s going on and share in the celebration, Vanessa so happy she barely lets go of Brooke for the rest of the night.

–

“Brooke?”

Brooke turns around in bed, blinking sleepily. “Yeah?”

“I can’t believe it.” Vanessa is still laying down, still snuggled under blankets up to her chin, but she has a different look about her, one that isn’t the groggy, comfortable look that Brooke is used to seeing her when she’s trying to fall asleep. Instead, her eyes are misty with something more than fatigue, wide and searching as they stare up at the ceiling.

“Can’t believe what?” Brooke feels her breath catching in her throat as she asks the question, worries suddenly filling her mind. Is it too much for Vanessa? Has she changed her mind? Has she already made peace with dying, and doesn’t want to go through with it now?

But then Vanessa turns towards her, and it’s not despair or anxiety or sadness in her eyes–it’s happiness , a pure joy that’s visible even behind the wavering wall of tears threatening to spill over onto her cheeks.

“I’m getting a kidney.”

The tears start to fall just as Brooke wraps Vanessa in and pulls her close, stroking her hair and kissing the top of her head.

“I love you, Ness.”

“Obviously.” Vanessa snorts, and Brooke laughs, and then they’re both giggling, unable to stop until tiredness gets the best of them and forces them to settle.

“Brooke?” Vanessa yawns, fighting to keep her eyes open as Brooke feels her own eyelids flutter, teetering on the edge of dozing off.

“Mhm?” She fights off the sleep long enough to ask, pulling Vanessa’s warm body closer still.

“I love you, too.”

–

The time before the transplant passes in a flurry of appointments, support group meetings, and prep sessions, leaving their heads spinning with new precautions, medications, and peer advice that never seem to end. As overwhelming as it is, Brooke can’t help but feel confident as they walk through the hospital doors on the day of their procedure. Not because she’s sure it’ll go off without a hitch–it very well might not. And not because she’s ready–how could she be, when she was about to undergo a surgery that could make or break both her and Vanessa’s lives? But she’s confident nonetheless, all because Vanessa is walking beside her, holding her hands, beaming with hope and excitement. And whenever Brooke’s stomach flips, or her heartbeat kicks up, or a nasty thought pops into her head, all she has to do is look at Vanessa, and everything slows down again.

Not because the last two years have been a breeze. Not because Vanessa isn’t scared. But precisely because they’ve made it through two years of struggle, of fear, of things that worked and things that didn’t. Because even amid all of that, they’ve found joy in each other, found strength and a million reasons to smile. So no matter what happens, Brooke knows that it’ll be alright–because it always is, and always will be, as long as she has Vanessa by her side.

“Y’all ready?” Dr. Ganache comes into their hospital room just before the procedure, a huge grin on her face and their surgeon in tow.

“Ready as we’ll ever be.” Vanessa nods, reaching for Brooke’s hand.

“Absolutely.” Brooke squeezes back, nodding in turn.

They’re wheeled into the OR side by side, holding hands right until the last second when the anesthetic hits, and everything goes black.

–

The recovery room is spinning as Brooke’s eyes blink open, searching through the still-drugged haze for the only thing her mind can find the strength to think about.

Vanessa. Her eyes settle on the sleeping girl next to her only a moment later, and it’s like the whole world has snapped into clear, sharp focus again.

Vanessa has an oxygen mask on, and tubes coming out of almost every inch of exposed skin, but she’s alive, and breathing, and slowly blinking awake, her eyes misty with anesthetic but nonetheless full of relief and contentment.

“Hey, you’re up.” Vanessa’s words are lilted, almost as if she’s a little tipsy, but she’s smiling, and God, it’s only been a few hours, but Brooke’s missed that smile.

“I’m up.” She nods. She tries to move her hand over to where Vanessa is, tries to reach out to her, but a monitor beeps, and a nurse rushes over to scold her, telling her she needs to wait out the effects of the anesthetic before she even thinks about moving.

“You got told.” Vanessa giggles, and Brooke can’t help it–she giggles too, and soon, even the nurse is laughing, relief and triumph filling the room and making everything feel light as air.

“So,” Brooke laughs a little even as things settle, still half loopy from the anesthetic and half drunk on the situation, the fact that the transplant was successful, that they’re both still here, together, and they’re going to be okay. “How does it feel to have me inside of you?”

The nurse boos, and Vanessa and Brooke crack up all over again.

“It feels great.” Vanessa whispers as she shifts a bit in bed, snuggling deeper into the thin hospital blanket draped over her body. “Absolutely amazing. Thank you so much, baby.”

“I love you.” Brooke yawns, and then sleep overtakes her again, soft and warm and full of dreams of the next three to five years. It’s only when she wakes up, though, and they’re back in their room that the dream doesn’t just break–it expands, and she’s looking at her forever, contained in one rosy face staring back at her, smiling like it’s the first day they met.

“Hey, Brooke?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you, too.”

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #branjie #fluff #sick fic #lesbian au #writworm42 #tw medical

[askmelanahost]

Chapter 1

Welcome to the endless realm of the Super Natural! Chapter 1 is now here! Enjoy the (Hopefully not short, because it looks long) Chapter of the beginnings of Melana. Also, I might be deleting some asks as they don’t follow my story anymore so yeah! Enjoy!

“Mom?” Melana called to her mother one morning, she is currently eight at this time.

“Yes, my dear?” Sara responded, sitting next to her child at the table.

“I’ve always wanted to ask, but I’ve been scared you dodge the question, so you have to answer it! No matter what! Promise!” Melana demanded.

“Alright Melana, I promise,” Sara vowed, “what is your question?”

“Well… Uhm… What was dad like? Like who was he?! Was he really nice? And where is-” Melana continued on.

“Melana, calm yourself.” Sara interrupted, “so you are interested in your dad huh? Well. Where do I start?” 

Melana got a big smile on her face, as she jumped in her chair as she ate her buttery pancakes.

“Well, he looks a lot like you. You have his blonde hair, his beautiful blue eyes. He was very gentle and very caring. Uhm, what else? He liked to read, everything fascinated him. Yes, he was very nice, he was so excited to be a father but….” Sara stopped.

“Bu-But what?” Melana asked, a bit scared to hear the next piece of information. Sara sighed, deciding not to tell the real truth of her loved one’s fate.

“Well, on his way to the mansion he worked at, he was killed in a car accident. He… He was gone too soon, but all this happened before you were born. I wish you could have known him. He would have loved you to bits. But it’s okay, he’s in a better place. He’s at peace.” Sara lied. Melana had small tears forming in the corner of her eyes.

“Y-Yeah, better place, he’s with the angels, right mom?” Melana choked a question, her trying to wipe her tears away. 

“Yes. He’s with them, and they are taking good care of him, don’t cry my darling. Fate can not be escaped.” Sara said as she hugged her daughter close.

After about ten minutes, Melana calmed down and wiped her eyes as she took deep breaths.

“Come on now love. Time to get ready for school.” Sara said to Melana, who immediately popped up to finish her outward appearance. Soon the bus came, and Melana almost totally forgot about her conversation with her mother early that morning. She sat by one of her best friends named Anabelle.

“Hey, Anabelle!” Melana greeted. Anabelle waved to her.

“I got something cool to tell you and show you, but once Nancy and Sarina get on,” Anabelle said.

“Okay!” Melana replied as she bounced with nervous curiosity. Nancy and Sarina, as being sisters got on at the same time, they sat to the other side of the aisle from Anabelle and Melana.

“Hello!” The sisters greeted at the same time. They were known for speaking with one mind. They called it “Twin Telepathy.” Though Anabelle got to it quickly.

“My dad went hunting this weekend!” Anabelle exclaimed. The word “dad” gave Melana flashbacks of the words her mother had said to her. Melana shook a bit but quickly regained her composure to listen to Anabelle.

“So?” Sarina and Nancy questioned.

“Well, I went with him! We went into the woods and after a long while for waiting for animals for dad to put to sleep, I decided to explore the area. I had my portable camera with me, of course, to take good pictures so I can get into a good photography school. But then I found this!” Anabelle said as she handed pictures of an old run-down mansion. Vines growing along the sides of the building, windows shattered, and tombstones to the left side. 

“Before I got closer, dad found me and warned me of the dangers inside. He said it was owned by a guy with the last name of Gracey. He told me a lot of people died mysteriously and let the mansion be the blame. He said there is a legend that somebody…. Well. I can’t say it or we might get in trouble, but it looked so cool in person. We’d have to go some time.” Anabelle explained. Melana immediately nodded her head as she looked at all the pictures that Anabelle had taken. The sisters shook their heads.

“Bad idea,” Nancy said.

“Very bad idea,” Sarina added.

“But what if there were actually ghosts?! Who else could say they met a ghost at show and tell?” Anabelle asked. Melana agreed with Anabelle. 

“Yeah! Its a big deal guys! We could get a picture of a ghost and make money off of those pictures!” Melana added.

“Yeah but we have school, and our lives to worry about,” Sarina said.

“Okay…” Anabelle said, giving up the small predicament. Melana sighed as she sat back in the seat and felt suddenly really tired. She sighed. She rubbed her eyes to keep herself mostly awake. Anabelle looked at her.

“Blind eye messing you up?” Anabelle asked. Melana nodded.

“Yeah. Only having one sense of light can mess up your sleeping schedule, mom says I might have something called insomnia,” Melana explained. Anabelle gave a small smile as their day continued.

Soon they arrived at school, they went to the lunchroom for Anabelle and the sisters to get breakfast, while Melana sat there and talked with them. They all had the same classes which were very convenient for their building friendship. The day seemed to go fast, lunch, recess, easy elementary work and the normal way home. They would all hang out at Anabelle’s house. But this time it was different, they were convincing Anabelle’s dad to take them to the old mansion.

“PLEASE, DAD! We want to see it!” Anabelle said convincingly.

“Anabelle. I said no, it’s almost time for your friends to leave,” her father replied.

“But we just want to see it,” Anabelle continued. He sighed as he put his newspaper down.

“Fine sweetpea. But only for a few minutes. Your friends need to get home.” He said as he got up to get truck keys.

“Yay!” The four cheered in unison. They all ran outside faster than somebody being late to work as they all hopped into the truck after Anabelle’s dad unlocked it. They all got their seatbelts on and they were on their way.

They eventually arrived, Anabelle’s dad led the way. They truly made it to the mansion, in its full self.

“Woah.” Sarina and Nancy said together.

“That’s it, girls. The Gracey Mansion. Sure needs some work, but it’s too dangerous to fix.” He said aloud.

Though, Melana was very out of it. She was very intrigued by this certain mansion. Something called to her, a voice, a voice she has never heard before. Like a phantom leading her to her fate. Without conscious thinking. Melana started walking towards the front door, the door opening in her single eye. The voice growing louder as she got closer. But quickly went silent as she opened her eyes to her laying on the forest floor, Anabelle’s father grabbing onto her arm gently. 

“Melana? Are you okay? You passed out there for a second,” He said. Melana gasped.

“I did?!” Melana questioned. “S-Sorry!” 

“Let’s get you home so I can explain to your mom what happened. Here take some water.” He offered. Melana quickly took it and started to drink from it.

“Let’s get you home,” He said as he carried her to his truck.

Not far, in an upstairs window, were two figures not easily seen by the regular eye. Watching the poor girl that fell to the ground. He looked to the headed glass ball.

“Madame Leota? Is that her?” He asked.

“Yes, Master Gracey. That is the child.” She responded.

“She looks exactly like him.” Gracey chuckled, “adorable thing.”

“Master Gracey, please, she’s still young, let her grow first.” Leota scolded the young teen.

“That's not what I meant. She's cute. As in, child cute.” Gracey huffed.

“Come, we must go back for now,” Leota announced.

“Alright.” Gracey sighed as he picked up his loyal companion and walked away into the shadows.

Anabelle’s father held a sleeping Melana to her doorstep, he knocked on the door and Sara answered.

“Oh my goodness! There you are! Where did you guys go, it’s so late!” Sara exclaimed in worry. He sighed, knowing he was going to get screamed at by this mother bear.

“The girls wanted to see the Gracey mansion.” He said quietly.

“And you let them go! What if Melana saw things that she shouldn’t have?!” She said.

“She didn’t see anything. She passed out after being there for a minute or so.” He said, “but she’s fine. She doesn’t remember anything from what I know.” Sara sighed in a bit of relief.

“Well… That’s good. Just as long as she didn’t go inside, that mansion is cursed, it got him….” Sara said, choking up a bit. 

“Hey. It’s okay. Remember, I’m here for you Sara, don’t cry now. Don’t think about it. Just think that Melana is safe and she is home.” He said.

“Y-Yeah. You’re right. What was I worried about? Well, thank you for bringing her home safe, Jack.” Sara said, hugging him in a friendly way.

“Of course Sara. You should keep Melana home from school tomorrow, give her the rest she needs, passing out especially the way she landed, she landed hard. I wasn’t able to catch her in time.” Jack replied. Sara nodded, she gave another ‘thank you’ and she closed the door and brought Melana to the warmth of her bed.

#melana host #ask melana host #The Ghost Host #oc story #chapter 1 #ask the ghost host's daughter #the ghost host daughter #the haunted mansion #disney #disney oc #disney second generation I guess #spooky #story #Haunted Mansion

[lilyharvord]

Fire and Flood

FUCK IT. I have finals, BUT WE NEED THE GALA SCENE NOW. I just finished reading that excerpt from Broken Throne and I need it now. (If it makes Cal blush my ass, Victoria.) 

@nightmarebarrow @mareshmallow @clarafarleybarrow @marecalrandomstuff @anyone-anything-canbetrayanyone @war-storm @dutyuntodeath (welcome back) @redqueenfandom @scarletguardsource @cptdanvxrs @scxrletguardsdawn @morebooks-pls @lamemathpuns @catchingfandoms5 

if anyone is missing, let me know and I’ll tag you!! !(((: It’s long, and unedits, so enjoy children. 

I’m not sure whether Gisa is a genius or would rather I hide in the mass of tulle she put together. She tuts behind me, her own dress far less ostentatious than mine. I wish she had been the one to dress like this though, she would have fit the part better than me. 

Glancing over my shoulder to meet my eye in the mirror, she asks, “Is it too tight in the bodice?” 

“No.” I admit quickly, shaking off my premonition of falling down the stairs because I can’t see my own two feet. Her smile has enough wattage that I’m surprised I don’t feel it in my bones. Adjusting the strings at the back so that they sit better, she hesitates to say, “There’s always another option. I’m sure we could find you a uniform lying around.” 

“No,” I rush out, hearing the hint of ache in her voice. She made this dress for me, and had spent a whole week up north designing it. It would be a slap in the face if I decided to change my mind and wear a Monfort uniform. Besides, a uniform would not make him immediately blush. 

I turn to face her, a smile creeping up my lips, making the scars pull on my neck. The skirts whisper on the ground, and for a moment, a flash of a navy train hissing on the ground runs through my mind. Its over, she’s dead and gone, he is too. I have to remind myself of that tonight, no matter what. 

“It’s beautiful. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.” My words only make her raise a brow to her hairline in skepticism. Each strand of her hair has been perfectly pulled back to show the glow of her face. Her eyes, brighter than stones, shine in the dim light of the room. I can’t help it when I say, “And you look beautiful as well.” 

Her blush cuts across her cheeks in a splatter like paint being thrown on a canvas. Gisa looks even more beautiful when she blushes, if that is even possible. I had hoped to hide next to her, even though a part of my wishes to stand out. In this dress, I have no choice but to stand out though. 

Her eyes can read those thoughts as they cross my mind though, and she offers me a reassuring smile. It does nothing to quell my nerves though. Slipping her arm around my elbow, she pulls me to the door, making the decision for me. Everything and everyone seems to be doing that these days. The storm made me leave the north, Cal refuses to speaks to me, ultimately deciding that we would have to continue dancing around each other like children, and Gisa put me in the dress, making me stand out no matter how hard I try. 

We leave the safety of the room, and there is no turning back. Tonight will be able covers, making sure that any spies present think this is anything but a cover. Maybe I should rethink my non-drinking promise to Kilorn. Just the thought of swallowing anything right now makes my stomach rebel. It’s too late to turn around though, and the pace Gisa sets is not one I can diverge from. The war was laying in wait for me in the ballroom, and so was Cal. Whether or not I was ready, I’d have to face them both. 

(////)

“Do you think they try to hide how uncomfortable they are?” Farley asks with a smirk behind her rim of her champagne flute. I glance in the direction of her gaze, noticing the small Silver delegation from Norta looking around like sheep on the hunt for a wolf. How odd to see them like that, the once powerful now so frightened. I snort at the though, power and strength my ass. 

“Give them credit where it’s due,” Davidson replies for me, the laughter barely hidden in the voice, “They did come here, did they not?”

I nod quickly in agreement and sip at my champagne as well. Kilorn made sure I went slow, keeping my pace steady. I was already one half glass in. He’d noticed quickly what I was doing, and pinched my arm when he saw me cutting through my second one. I was only halfway through it now, and I had to resist the urge to tip it back and swallow it in one mouthful every few seconds. 

“Well the least they could have done was pretend to be cheerful about it,” Carmadon says with a sigh next to his husband. No doubt he was disappointed in the Nortan showing. Kilorn had mentioned it was an even spread, but the Silver seemed outnumbered 10 to 1 by New Bloods and Reds alike. It certainly made for an odd group. 

“They’re here though, it’s a start.” I murmur as I go for another sip. And it is a start, pitiful, but a start. 

“Since when are you so optimistic?” Farley asks with another smirk. Rolling my eyes in her direction, I resist the urge to stick my tongue out at her. She’s dressed like a General tonight, decorated with small insignia that she keeps adjusting uncomfortably when people look at it. She’s not used to weight of so many badges. They make her look dignified though, and underneath the slight discomfort, she glows with pride. 

Behind me, I hear raucous laughter from Bree, his laugh unmistakable in the somewhat hush environment. I see a pair of bronze eyes from the Silver group flash that direction. They’re not the one’s I’ve been on the hunt for though. These are a little colder, a little more wary. 

“Someone should stop Bree before he gets too drunk,” I say as I turn quickly to leave the proximity I have to Anabel Leralorn. To say that she wanted my guts spilled on this no wax floor would be an understatement. She probably wanted me painted on the walls and then thrown off the highest mountain for making Cal turn away from the path she had set him on. 

I brush past Kilorn, who watches me carefully, and nods when he sees the hint of a smile I give him. He doesn’t believe it completely, but he’ll buy into it for now. It’s so strange seeing that from him. He used to think everything was so black and white, so crystal clear in intention, now he is starting to read beyond the first glance. I wonder if that is a good thing of a bad thing. 

Making my way through the crowd, I brush elbows with elite Guard members who nod their head in my direction, and with red delegates from the People’s Council who smile brightly at me. I give each the same in return as I maneuver across the floor toward my brother who looks like he’s telling some drunk story or another to a group of Nortan soldiers. I wonder if he knows any of them from the front. 

I pass a young Red who is not paying attention as he gestures backwards. His arm catches my shoulders, and I’m unprepared for the force of it. It feels like I got hit by a bar of steel. I stumble, midstep, and try to plant my foot to catch myself. I step on the edge of my dress though, the part that Gisa never could get to sit properly no matter how much she pinned and mended. I want to shriek, but no sound comes out as I end up going sideways towards someone else’s back. The champagne in my glass hits them before I almost do. It gives them a second of warming to at least begin turning around. 

I prepare for the cold bite of marble on my hands and elbow, or the snip of glass on my palm when I land in shards of it. Instead, I end up almost horizontal, the person I spilled half a glass of champagne on just barely holding me up. They must have turned and caught me just in time, because my knee barely brushes the ground. 

“I’m so sorry,” the Red sputters as he bends down to take my other arm and help me up, his face bright red. “I didn’t even see you, I honestly had no idea anyone was behind me-” 

“I think by this point in her life she’s used to being out of everyone’s range of sight, Jordan.” Murmurs my savior. I tense at the sound of that voice. I know every cadence of it, every rumble, laugh, and gasp. Glancing up, I hope and pray I’m wrong. Fate has no such plans tonight though. 

A set of bronze eyes, so much more lively than I remember from two months ago, look down at me. It’s then that I notice he’s smiling, and trying to hide a laugh at my situation. The prick, I think. 

Both Cal and Jordan help me to my feet. I let out a mocking laugh at Cal’s comment, trying to cover the silence during the moment it took me to process that he’s here, and say, “Normally, they just feel me electrocute their ankles.” 

Jordan’s eyes widen at my words and he goes another shade darker as he chokes, “Mare Barrow? I... Geez, I’m so sorry, this is... this is honestly the worst night of my life. I almost took out the lightning girl.”

“I’ve had worse hits.” I murmur to him, annoyed he is making this a bigger deal than it needs to be. I was fine, no one was hurt... other than Cal’s jacket. That could easily be fixed if he removed it though. The shirt underneath might be ruined too, that might need to go as well. I almost blush at the thought. Bad Mare, my mind screams at me in response to the direction I want to take with that notion.  

Cal snorts in response to me this time, and I turn my eyes to him in annoyance. No puns, I want to growl. Jordan shakes his head quickly, looking to be on the verge of tears. He looks like he’s only a kid, maybe only eighteen. My stomach rebels for a moment at the thought, are they still drafting children?  Before I can properly discern his age though, one of the people he was talking to throws his arm around his shoulders teasing, “You almost killed a legend, and managed to almost take out our commanding officer with her. You own them both a glass of champagne.” 

“And a new jacket,” Cal teases with a laugh light as smoke. I watch him pull it off and turn it to look at the dark stain on the back. It takes a moment for me to process the whole conversation, my mind still hung up on the fact that he was here, standing next to me and neither of us had actually acknowledged the other yet. 

“Commanding officer?” I ask incredulously, still trying to catch up. Jordan, his friend, and the other young woman behind them all stare at me with blank faces. I feel a blush creep to my cheeks. I should have read those stupid files Davidson had been sending me. 

“Well, yeah,” the friend replies, “just our squadron though.” 

 My reply is as stupid as my question. “Oh.” 

I glance at him out of the corner of my eye and see that he is blushing probably as much as me. This was not how I wanted that to happen tonight, but honestly, it has the same effect it always does. My stomach flip flops at the sight, and I want nothing more than to drag him by the front of his shirt behind those pillars off to the side. But I don’t want to at the same time. I’m not ready, and I am. I can’t handle this anymore, my own thoughts keep chasing themselves around my head. The alcohol certainly isn’t helping either. 

Jordan glanced between the two of us, before something clicks. His friend elbows him softly, and then leans over about to whisper something. Cal cuts them off before anything can be said. “Why don’t the three of you go find someone else to knock over?”

The girl lets out a screaming laugh before grabbing Jordan and dragging him away. Out of the three of them, she seems to have the best grip on the social scene at hand. Jordan keeps looking over his shoulder at the two of us though as they vanish into the crowd. He looks like he might give himself a migraine trying to put his thoughts together. 

“Sorry, Jordan is getting used to his strength, its a newer development.” Cal replies as he folds his jacket over his arm. A New Blood then, I catalogue the thought away. Davidson will want to know that more are popping up. 

“He’s fine, he... seems young.” We stare at each other for a moment. I glance down at his jacket to avoid his eyes, and then grimace as I say, “Sorry about your jacket.” 

He looks down at it as well. Raising a brow, he says, “I’ve got a few more I can wear, it’s not a big loss.” His eyes dance over my dress though as he says, “That on the other hand would be a big loss if it got ruined... where exactly did you find that thing? Did they use all the tulle in Montfort to make it?”

I press down on the skirts in annoyance and say, “Gisa made it for me.” 

He purses his lips, and it doesn’t even take a heartbeat for me to see he’s trying to swallow a laugh. I set my hands on my hips in response, “I can always have her make you one. I’d like to see you try and walk around in this thing.” 

“I would do it, and wear it better than you.” He replies, the laugh finally managing to escape. I smile in response, and I barely feel the pull of my scars. How do you do it? I want to demand. How do you make me forget my own body? 

We standing then, smiling at each other like idiots in the middle of this party. He recognizes it before me, and then shuffles his feet before looking to the side. HIs eyes catch something, and he looks back with a crooked smile that makes my stomach drop to my ankles. 

“Can you dance in that thing?” He offers me his arm with the question. I should say no. Whatever he has is mind it can’t be good, but honestly, I want to be wrapped up in his arms again. I want to be close enough to smell the fire and wood scent that clings to him. I want to drown in him. 

Returning his grin, I slip my arm through his and let him lead me to open space where a few couples are dancing. On the edge of the dance floor though, Jordan appears on Cal’s other side and grabs his arm. He’s out of breath, and his eyes are wide. My skin princkles to life with electricity, and I see Cal’s hair stand on end in repsonse. He looks back at me, and I step up so that we are side by side facing Jordan. He only has eyes for Cal though as he chokes, “It’s Oliver, he’s about to get in a fight with some Monfort red. He must have pissed the guy off, and he’s like twice his size, but I didn’t-” 

Cal is on the move before Jordan can even finish. “Lead the way,” He grunts to Jordan who immediately begins to weave his way through the crowd. I hurry after Cal, hiking my skirts up to my knees to keep up with his long strides. Damn his long legs, I think as I pushes his way through the crowd clearing a path for me without knowing it. People grunt and hiss at him, but he ignores all of them, and I have to apologize for him as we go. It’s such an odd shift in our dynamic. Normally I was the one to storm through a crowd with him trailing and smoothing everything over in my wake. 

I spot Farley at the same times that she sees us. Her brow raises when she sees me chasing after an obviously hell bent Cal. She shoves her glass into Kilorn’s hand in response and starts to move parallel to us to find a way to cut us off. He hands them to Carmadon when he sees what she does and then hurries after her. Davidson spots our little party next and sighs before taking one glass from Carmadon and following us with his husband. They probably think Cal and I are on the hunt for an open space to butt heads. I have nothing to do with it, I want to cry like a child. It’s not my fault!

Jordan directs us out onto a balcony, and I immediately see the problem. A stick thin man is squaring off against Bree who looks like a bull about to charge. I throw my head back and almost stomp my foot in annoyance. A small ring is starting to form around them, mostly Red Nortan soliders, I notice. Cal pushes through them though, going straight for my brother, who seems to be the source of the problem. I see his error before he even acts. 

“Cal!” I cry in warning as I try to run and grab his arm. It’s too late though. He grabs Bree’s arm and goes to say something to stop him. My brother is two inches taller than him, drunk, pissed as all hell, and spoiling for a fight. So, when he turns around, and his fist connects with Cal’s face, we all hear the crack from his nose breaking, and maybe even his cheek judging by the volume of the sound. 

“Bree!” I scream as I put myself between the two of them. My brother looks down at me with narrowed eyes because I interrupted him. Bree had been a brute in the Stilts, and I had witnessed his fighting first hand when we were younger and he would wrestle me into the mud. His hits hurt, and honestly I would be surprised if Cal got up and walked this one off. 

Bree’s cheeks are cherry red from the alcohol and the adrenaline from the fight. I glare up at him, and everyone around us watches in shock as someone who is only half his height stands up to him. His eyes dance over my shoulder, and he spots Jordan coming for him, screaming with a fury to defend Cal. I hiss in annoyance at the whole thing and then throw a bold of electricity in his direction over my shoulder. It hits him square in the chest and throws him back. 

He sits up in surprise as he looks at me, and I shake my head before turning on my brother and spitting, “Have you lost every sense our mother gave you when you were born?”

His eyes are on Cal behind me though, who is picking himself off the ground. When I glance at my feet, Cal’s face is turned to the side so I can barely see his profile in the shadows. He pulls his hand away from his nose, slowly, almost hesitantly, like he’s not sure what’s going to happen. A gush of silver blood comes out and sprays on the marble though, and it doesn’t look like it is going to stop soon. One of the red’s makes a sound and is promptly sick off to the side. When Cal look’s up at me, I see why. I almost throw up too.

His nose is broken in almost three places, at the bridge between his eyes, slightly below that, and near the tip. There is already a dark black stain starting to make its way under both his eyes and along one of his cheeks. 

Bree takes this in, and a heartbeat later throws his head back and howls with laughter. I flip around to glare at him, but my stare does nothing. He bends over, his hands on his knees as he gasps for breath around his laugh. Cal is not amused though. He tries to get to his feet but he ends up falling over his legs like a new born deer. I grab him to keep him from falling to the marble floor completely. I can’t even begin to apologize. Besides, I’m worried if I open my mouth, I’ll throw up.  

“Heaven above!” Carmadon cries from the doorway of the balcony. I look up to see Farley, Kilorn, Davidson, and Carmadon watching the the whole thing. Bree spots them as well, and then with his words slurring into one long one says, “Kilorn, Farley! Come look at the Silver Prince! He’s not such a pretty boy any more! I told you all I was gonna hit him one day, and I did.” 

My friend grimaces, and then edges out of the doorway and into the air that I just began to notice is cold. The reds move out of his way, and it’s then that I see they’re all wearing the same jacket that Cal was wearing. This was probably his squadron. Kilorn bends down to wrap his arms underneath Cal’s and says, “Come on Cal, lets get you inside.” 

“I’m fine,” He says, and spits blood out as he does it. I notice a small gap in his teeth then. when I look down too, I can spot the small white object on the marble. He stumbles on his feet and almost falls, but Kilorn has filled out now, and he takes his weight with no problem. It’s then that I realize Cal has lost weight. Kilorn is almost as filled as he is. I blink in surprise at that, and watch as another member of the squadron runs up to Cal’s slide and slips his other arm over his shoulder. “We’ll get a healer,” he assures says. Cal snorts, and slurs, “I don’t need one.” 

“Beg to differ.” Kilorn replies as he drags him to the side. I follow them quickly, glaring at my brother over my shoulder. He sways on his feet, and Farley grabs his arm like a mother and drags him in the opposite direction, hopefully to a room where he can sleep this off. 

Cal leaves a trail of Silver blood behind him as we go. It’s all down the front of his shirt and smeared across his mouth. I grimace, hoping no one in the party notices. It’s just my luck that only one person does. 

“Cal!” Anabel’s cry is like a wounded animal. She sprints across the room to him, and for a moment I fear she may obliterate Kilorn and the other red to take him from them. He smiles at her though, showing the gap in his teeth that makes her freeze in horror, as he says, “I’m fine Nanable, you should see the other guy.” 

She goes so pale her skin almost goes black, and I fear she may faint. I step around her as Kilorn and his partner continue to drag Cal toward the other set of rooms. Davidson follows us, asking a waiter for a bag of ice, and to find Sara Skonos. The waiter hurries away with a nod. 

“Some party,” I grumble, and Davidson laughs as he winks at Anabel who looks horrified at the scene. We pass into Davidson’s study and Kilorn pulls off his jacket as he sits Cal in a chair as then holds it up to Cal’s nose to stauch the blood flow. Gisa’s stitches will have to do for now. 

The waiter appears at the same time, with what looks like a pillow sack full of ice. I take it from him and thank him before crouchiing between Cal’s legs and peeling away Kilorn’s jacket slightly to look at the damage. It’s certainly not pretty. I grimace as I press the ice to his nose. He hiss in pain, and then says, “Honestly, I was relying on my looks to talk with you tonight. This is throwing a big wrench in my plans.” 

Kilorn snorts as he leans against the table next to him and says, “Dont worry, Sara will make sure you’re back to your perfect prince face before you know it.” 

“Not a prince anymore,” he grumbles and I chew on my lip as I pull the ice away again to look at the bruise that is starting to creep up to his forehead. Geez, my brother did a number. 

Sure enough, Sara Skonos floats into the room. She looks etheral in her dress, with her hair floating around her head. She sighs when she takes Cal in and then shoos me out of the way. I move to the side, taking the ice with me. She tilts Cal’s head to see him straight on and says, “What did you do, run head first into a wall?”

“The wall may have run into me,” Cal says with a smile, that shows he’s actually missing two teeth. Sara sighs and then looks at me with a suffering expression. I cant help but smile though. She goes to work then, and Cal hisses in pain as she starts with growing the teeth back. Anabel appears in the room then, closing the door behind her. She stays on the edge watching the whole thing. 

A minute later, there is a snap, and Cal cries out in pain. I grab his hand in response, griping into between mine. His eyes dance to me for a second, and I squeeze in reassurance as Sara forces his bone back into place. It takes her a total of seven minutes to have him back to normal. Some of the bruising is still there from her putting things back in place, but it will fade in a few days she promises before breezing out of the room. 

Cal’s grip on my hand is tight enough that I’m worried I wont be able to pull my hand from his. I dont want to though. I turn my hand to lace my fingers with his in reponse. He lifts his head to look up at me, his eyes searching my face for a sign of what that shift means. 

Carmadon recognizes a moment when he sees one, just like he had months ago when we had first been in Monfort together. He grabs everyone, including Kilorn and Anabel, whispering an apology to her as he pushes them out of the room. He gives me a wicked grin and then steps backwards out of the room to slide the doors closed. 

I feel my heart hammering in my chest as I look down at Cal then. He hasn’t taken his eyes off of me. “I didn’t get the chance to tell you that you looked beautiful tonight,” He whispers, his thumb caressing the space between my thumb and forefinger. 

“That’s your concussion talking,” I say with an amused smile. He shakes his head quickly though, and says, “I regretted what I said about the dress the minute I said it. You look stunning in it.” 

I tilt my head to the side and say with a laugh, “You’re a mess.” 

He blushes again, and then uses the edge of his shirt that came untucked to start wiping the blood off his mouth. “You can say that again,” he murmurs before huffing in annoyance and almost throwing the edge down into his lap. I raise my brow and then slide in front of him before letting go of his hand to hike my skirts up. I settle into his lap, making his eyes widen in surprise. At least like this I’m almost at eye level with him. 

Reaching up, I push a strand of hair that feel to the side, and then say, “You don’t look half bad either.” My heart settles in my chest as he sets his hands on my sides. I can feel the warmth from his touch, and it’s so achingly familiar that my entire body seems to sag with sigh at it. “Although you did look pretty bad with the broken nose.” 

He snorts, then winces when his newly healed nose aches at the feeling. I cup his face in response and just hold his gaze when he meets mine. We simply watch each other for a moment. I lean forward, and his eyes flutter closed for a moment, but I simply avoid his face to whisper in his ear, “What do you want?” 

He shivers, and his grip on my hips gets tighter as he replies, his voice aching longing, “You, always you.” 

My heart pounds in response to the words as I pull back to look at him. His eyes have the same ache as his voice and I realize what I did when I left him on that tarmac. I left him an aching mess. A man with an aching heart, torn apart by his brother’s death, by my departure, by the loss of the only thing he had every known. I had been the constant, the thing he had been hoping to rely on, and I had turned that on it’s head when I left him. 

My hesitation makes him pull out of the moment slightly. He looks at me hesitantly, so worried to have his heart broken when it’s just barely healed. “What do you want Mare?”

I lean toward him then, inhaling the breath he exhales. “You,” I breathe on his lips and his entire body goes into the movement as he closes the distance between us for the first time in our lives. 

#red queen #glass sword #kings cage #war storm #broken throne #fuck yeah broken throne in less then five days #I wont have it for a while so no spoiling children #enjoy this in the mean time #I took liberties #also cal getting socked by bree? #that's bree's dream #anyway #back to your regularly scheduled tags #mare barrow #cal calore #bree barrow #kilorn warren #farley #general farley #there should be a general in there somewhere #I'm back yall #just in time for broken throne #come and get yalls shit #my fanfics #fire and flood #the gala will be better than this #but I had this idea and I was not letting it go #also welcome to all my new baby ocs #the eternal ship #the eternal ship sails on

[someflareoutwithlove]

Five years...

Trigger Warnings: Transphobia, Abuse. abandonment, homelessness, suicide

A writing about Damiens coming out experience to his family, and how it all went down. 

Damien stood in his bedroom, locks of his once long black hair laid at his feet as he chopped at it, determined to make it short. He knew it was going to look horrible, but at least he would start to look like himself. He didn’t care if it was uneven, he didn’t care if it looked like a toddler with a chainsaw went wild on it. 

Just as he put the scissors down there was a knock on his door, still covered in streamers and with balloons that bobbed half way from the ground as they slowly lost the helium that filled they four short days ago. 

“Amelia” his mothers soft voice called from the other side of the door “dear, are you alright in there? We haven’t seen you all day.” She was the kind of woman you’d see ringing the Salvation Army bell. Long dark hair, pulled into a bun at the base of her skull, and the gently eyes of a sunday school teacher. A feature that Damien always found comfort in.

“I’m okay mom” Damien called out “just- doing some reading. I’ll be out in a little bit. I- I need t-to talk to- to you all abou-about something imp-or-important.”

“Are you sure you’re okay huh” she asked “you’re stammering is getting pretty bad.”

“Y-yeah.. Like I said- I- it’s important.” 

“Did Elijah get you pregnant? You know that boy is sweet, but I don’t think he’d be fit to be a father, not this young. But I’m sure he’d be more than happy to stick by you, and be your husband.”

Damien felt his face turn a bright red. It had been nearly a year since he came out to Elijah. Two years since they broke up. “No, mom. Tha-that’s.. that’s not it. We- we uh- we decided that- that we work better as- as just friends a wh-while ago.. remember?” 

It still hurt, however. Damien still found himself having feelings for his friend. His smile, his laugh. The way his eyes lit up as he talked on and on about almost anything. The freckles that speckled across his whole body, and his soft belly that made him perfect for using as a pillow. He was Damien's best friend for many years, and someone Damien loved. 

“Okay if you’re sure hun” his mom said “I’ll see you downstairs in a bit. Annabelle is making dinner tonight, she learned a new recipe from a classmate in college. I love you baby girl.” 

Damien let out a small sigh before calling out “love you too, mom.” 

Half an hour passed, Damien still stood staring at himself in the mirror as he slowly wrapped a bandage around his chest. He knew it was bad for him- and he knew how much it could hurt him. But this was all he could do for now. It was all he had. If anyone asked him now, despite still doing it, he would tell them not to. Sure, Elijah and his sister had offered to buy him a proper one, but he refused.

He never liked people helping him like that. It made him feel guilty. Like he’d owe them something in return. Or- like he was using them, despite that being far far from the truth. 

He pulled on a light blue shirt, and the purple sweater he’d gotten for his birthday days ago. Slowly he zipped it up. There was no going back now. This is who he was. And his family had to know. 

The door opened and he stepped out into the hall, just in time to run into his mother who was coming up to check on him again. She let out a small gasp looking up at him. 

“Oh sweety, what have you done to your beautiful hair” she asked, reaching up to touch it “oh hun- I thought you were past this phase of giving yourself haircuts.”

Damien pulled back slightly “I was- was just getting t-tiered of it bein’ long mom- th- that’s all” he told her “can.. can you g- get everyone down- downst- st-airs.?”

She nodded a bit, frowning as she looked him up and down. He could tell she was scared of what he was going to say. She had every right to be. He felt his heart thumping hard in his chest as they parted ways, her going to gether the family, and him going down stairs. 

“Hey kiddo” a voice called from the kitchen “I love the new hair cut. Sort of gives off that hard-rock look.” Annabelle stood, spatula in her hand, her brown currly hair pulled back off her face. 

“Th-thanks A-Anna” Damien said softly “I- I uh-”

“I can tell you did it yourself” she interrupted “mom says you got somethin’ important to tell us. Can’t wait to hear what it is. Can I take a guess?”

He let out a small chuckle. His big sister always could make him smile, always make him feel safe. “Sure- b-bu-but you probably wo-wont be able to.” He thought he may as well humor her. Maybe, it would soften the blow of the truth.

“You’ve decided to apply to Julliard for your piano playing!” 

He shook his head “n-no-nope that’s not it.. my- my- my stage fright is- is far too- too bad for somethin’ like that.” 

Anabelle frowned a bit “oh boo” she said “you know you would own that school.” She swapped an arm around him, standing a little shorter than him, in a side hug, that he hesitantly returned. 

He walked into the kitchen with her, the smell of her dinner wafting in the air. Fish and asparagus. 

His little sister, father, and mother all came down the stairs. His father, a tall, looming figure. His eyes sunken into his face, cold and judgmental framed by thin square glasses, and bushy eyebrows. 

Damien watched as his fathers cold eyes locked onto him. “Amelia” he greeted “you cut your hair, I liked it better long. You look like a-” 

He stopped when his mother jabbed him with her elbow “I think she looks lovely” she interrupted “I liked it better longer, but I think it frames her face nicely.”  She flashes a sweet smile at him as they all took a seat on the couch. 

Damien stool still, looking at his family. He felt time slow to a stop around him. Their eyes all looking at him, patiently judging. 

“Okay-” he started “o-okay I- I- I don’t know how to- how to say this but- I- I-” Damien took in a deep breath, he could already feel his eyes growing wet. This was something he’d been going over in his head for along time. Something he’d been practicing to himself, and with Elijah. It was easy with him. He accepted Damien for who he was. He always had. 

“I- I’m not- good in this- I’m- I thi- I know- I’m transgender. I- I’ve known for years- and--” he stopped talking as his father rose from his spot on the couch. 

“No you aren’t” his father hissed “no daughter if mine is goin’ to be a tranny freak!” 

Damien closed his eyes, as tears started to stream down his face “this is who I am- wh- I- I am trans- my- I-” how could he explain it? Could he?

Before he could think, his father stormed over to him and smacked him across the face, sending him to the ground. Damien cold hear his mother gasp in shock as he looked up at his father. 

“No. No daughter of mine” he shouted “Amelia- you need to get yourself together! Either you are my daughter or you are not welcome in this house. You have five minutes to decide!” 

Slowly, Damien stood up and walked to his room. Moments later, his mother followed. “Amelia- hunny” she called after “please- don’t do this- we love you-”

Something inside Damien snapped then, and he turned to look at her, his voice rising slightly “my name is Damien mom! I’m not fuckin’ Amelia! Da-mi-en!”

“TIMES UP NOW” his father shouted, loud enough to shake Damien to his core. In seconds he storned up the his middle child and grabbed him by the wrist. “I don’t care whop the fuck you think you are. You are Amelia. And you are no longer welcome in this house, so long as you keep living as a freak.” He dragged him to the door.

“Dad- please” Damien begged.

“No- I am not your father” he hissed as he threw the door open “as far as I’m concerned, we are strangers now- understood?” With that he tossed Damien out the door. “if you come back onto my property, I will call the cops.” With that, he slammed the door, locking it. 

There Damien stood, staring at the home he’s spent 17 years in. Where he learned to walk and talk. Where his height was measured on the kitchen door frame. Now, somewhere he was never welcome again. Filled with people who he believed never wanted to see him again. 

With that, he turned around and walked away. 

--

As months past, Damien grew worse and worse. Taking to drinking, and harming himself to cope. Two habits that he now wished he never started. He spent his days wondering around the streets, doing odd jobs for people to make enough money to eat. Nothing but his sweater, and a hat a stranger gave him to keep him warm. By the end of September, he’d left Bar Harbor, and was in Portland. Running around the streets still, getting more and more things to himself. 

The first time he spoke to Elijah in months was also the last time he would for years. It was December 28th. He was drunk, and he had plans. He needed to say goodbye to someone. Someone who he knew loved him, and who he loved deeply. 

Luckly, Damien had found a payphone, and still remembered Elijah's phone number. He listened to the phone ring on the other end a few times. It was late, so he wouldn’t be surprised if his friend was still sleeping. 

Just before it went to voice mail, a sleepy voice answered “who the hell is calling at this hour” he asked.

Damiens heart skipped a beat. It was him. A voice he hadn’t heard in so long. He slowly sunk to the ground, still holding the phone to his ear. 

“Hello” Elijah asked “come on- you woke me up- say something.”

Damien sniffled a bit “it’s good to hear your voice, Eli” he said softly “fuck- I- I miss.”

“D-Damien” Elijah asked, more alert now “Damien! Where are you? I can come get you! Are you safe? Are you warm?”

“Eli-”

“Why didn’t you come here? We would have welcomed you. Please- come here Damien. You can be home with us-”

“Eli- stop. I- I can’t.. it- it hurts to- to much to be anywhere in Bar Harbor right now. I-I’m in Portland.”

“Why haven't you called?”

“I- I don’t know.. I- I wanted to.. I- I’ve been trying to- to feed myself- and- and stay war-”

“Annabelle told us everything. My- my mom- Damien my mom would have called someone for you, she could get your dad locked up for that you know that right? We could do something! It’s not fair what happened. Please come home. You can be home with me- with my family. We can be your family-”

“Elijah- shut up. Please- I just- I need- I had to” Damien let out a soft cry “I just wanted to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye...? Now? Not when-” then it clicked “oh- oh. No! NO NO! Damien- please-” Elijah was standing in his room now, getting a robe on. He had to get someone.

“Elijah- I’ve made up my mind. Pleas- don’t try to talk me out of it. You can’t- and- and it will only hurt more.” 

“Like hell I can’t! Where in Portland are you? Stay on the phone with me-” he paused to shout “VICTORIA! VICTORIA! I NEED HElP-” Damien could hear the desperation in his friends voice. He’d almost never seen, or heard Elijah cry before. This hurt. 

“Elijah I’m sorry. Please don’t worry- please don’t look. I love you, so fuckin’ much. And- I’m sorry this is the last thin you’ll hear from me. I figured after everythin’ you’ve done. Everything you helped me with. You’ve always been there, and always could make me smile. I love that about you. I love your eyes that make me feel safe, your freckles that just add to your child-like wonder. You are an amazing man. Promise me you’ll never change.” 

Elijah was silent for a while “I love you too, Damien. You’re my best friend. Please.. I can’t lose you like this.”

“I’m sorry- goodbye Elijah. I hope you have the amazing life you deserve. Even if I’m not in in.” With that, he stood up and hung up. 

Damien was found unconscious, less than an hour later by an elderly woman, who rushed the young man to the hospital. He attempted to overdose on painkillers, but luckily was taken to the ER in time to save his life. To this day, he doesn’t know the identity of the woman who saved his life. All he knows is she wanted to go by ‘Granny’ on all his reports. 

Five years down the road after that horrible night. Damien found himself getting dressed for work, in the small apartment he was renting. His hair grown out, and scars healed. He was in a much better place now. Yes, he still struggled, but he was doing better now. He had friends who he considered his family. He had a job, even if he didn’t like it much, and he had a roof over his head. 

Damien had plans for the future now too. He was going to go to college and become a social worker. He was going to help youth who were in the same position as him. He wanted to be something to help give them hope. Hope that he desperately needed all those years ago. 

He was also going to get back in touch with Elijah. Or so he planned to. One day. 

Life was better now. He knew that. And while thoughts of suicide still lingered in his mind, he was able to push them to the side, knowing how much things can change. And wanting to be around to see his own life become better. 

#long post #sad boy in purple; About Damien #Drabble #Calvin writing #tw; transphobia #tw; self harm #tw; suicide #writing #tumblr authors

[wingsofanillyrian]

Kingdoms and Crowns (Marecal)

@spegetty asked “ hey could you use the prompt “There’s no future for me without you.” for marecal PLeASe “ and OFC I SAID YES so please enjoy and send me more Red Queen prompts!

I should also mention that at this point in time I have not finished WS, so I apologize for any plot inconsistency :)

ACOTAR/TOG Masterlists

Cruel Prince Masterlist

Red Queen Masterlist (more to come!)

If I had it my way, I wouldn’t be here right now.

I hate these endless council sessions. They’ve become hunting grounds, each side out for the others blood. Its pointless. Dredging up past grievances does nothing to further anyone’s cause; it only adds fuel to the fire.

The weight of Silver gazes are nearly as oppressive as Silent Stone. They refuse to accept that Red blooded people sit at the same table they do, that our decisions have sway with the king. I sit straighter in my seat, meeting each House’s stare in turn. I refuse to let my unease show.

I watch the clock, its hands ticking merrily away. Two minutes until the battle begins.

“Why am I not surprised that his Majesty and House Samos are late yet again?”

I glance up at Farley, grateful for her arrival. The lack of Reds in the gathering hall had every one of my nerves on end. Farley and I are the only Red-blooded representatives that have a permanent seat at the negotiations table. The Scarlet Guard uniform she wears dares the king’s council to forget who sits among them.

“Probably because this happens every time.”

As soon as I’ve finished speaking, the arched wooden doors at the end of the room swing open, allowing Evangeline Samos to stride in. The sharp smile she cuts the Silver side of the table is more than enough to make them squirm. The armor she’s clothed herself in is as magnificent as it is deadly. Metallic scales flash across her torso as she stalks for me, giving a sly wave.

“Hello Mare,” she drawls, sliding into the empty seat beside me.

“You certainly enjoy making grand entrances, don’t you?” Although our alliance is uneasy, I’m glad it’s her next to me instead of a member of any other House. Evangeline I can tolerate for a little while at least.

A low, innocent laugh as she brushes her silver hair off her shoulder. “You know me so well.”

“Where’s the rest of your House?”

She smiles, letting everyone wait for her answer. Flicking her eyes around the table she says, “Father sends his regrets, but he won’t be able to attend. You’re stuck with little old me.” She shrugs, reclining with feline grace.

“I can’t say that upsets me.”

Attention snaps to the head of the table. Tiberias has managed to sneak in without anyone noticing. I curse myself for letting him catch me off guard.

Anabel Lerolan is a step behind her grandson, surveying those assembled with predatory intent. Tiberias’ black hair is shaggy and unkempt as if he couldn’t be bothered to comb it. The fitted suit he wears, black with red trim around the cuffs, does little to offset the shadows lingering under his eyes. I wonder if he’s been sleeping well.

Not that I care, I remind myself sharply.

The others fall over themselves, standing and offering a greeting to their king. Everyone except Farley and I, that is. We remain seated, a decision that Anabel notes with a glare.

“Now then, let’s get this underway, shall we?” Tiberias gives a tight smile before taking his seat. My eyes dip to where the top button of his shirt is undone, revealing a sliver of the toned chest I know lies beneath. Once, I was free to run my fingertips over his warm skin whenever I pleased. The memory of knobby white scars and hard muscle makes my hands tingle.

Farley elbows my side, giving me a hard look. I tear my eyes away from the king and pull my thoughts back to this room. I brace myself for another endless day filled with talks of taxes and basic human rights for Reds- something that should already be accepted.

My head fills with static as soon as Anabel begins reading through the day’s agenda. Usually I can focus enough to participate, but today I’m lost in the way Tiberias’ mouth curves when he speaks. I don’t tune back into the conversation until Farley slams her hand on the table.

“Our goal isn’t to overthrow the entire Silver monarchy.” I stifle a cough at the boldfaced lie. She cuts a glare at me before continuing, “We want Reds and Silvers to live peacefully as equals. We’ve already seen it work in Piedmont-“

The hall erupts as everyone speaks at once. My gaze flicks to where Cal- no, Tiberias- sits at the head of the long, narrow table. His eyes are locked on me, waiting for my reaction. Instinct demands I look anywhere but at him. I do the opposite, standing my ground until he eventually breaks the stare.

One voice rises above the others, commanding attention. “I think I’ve found a solution that suits all our interests,” the king says, rising from his seat. The noise Evangeline makes informs me that Tiberias is speaking directly at me, whether he realizes it or not.

“I always keep the needs of my people close to my heart.” This time, I don’t hold in my noise of disgust. Farley nods in agreement. Tiberias continues as if he hasn’t heard me. “Which is why I’ve decided that, effective immediately, my betrothal to Evangeline will end immediately.”

“Finally,” Evangeline mutters, grinning wickedly. No one spares her a glance; they all know how much she loathed the decision. Her heart lies elsewhere, anyway. For perhaps the first time, I truly envy the magnetron. With any luck, she may be able to follow her wishes and be with the one she loves.

Anabel’s bronze eyes flash with fury. Clearly, she was not included in his plotting. “And whom, pray tell, do you suggest you wed?”

Dread fills my stomach. I already know what he’ll say, but I pray he has the good sense not to. My pulse hammers as Tiberias looks around the room, the picture of confidence. He meets everyone’s eyes—except mine.

“Mare will be my queen.”

The world falls out from under my feet.

No one says a single word, not even his wicked grandmother. They must think it’s some sick joke. I think it is too.

A long time ago, I wouldn’t have hesitated to agree. Back when I was foolish and blind, nothing but a lovesick puppy. I would have followed Cal to the ends of the earth if he’d asked.

But that was then.  This is now.

I hone the sparks of my anger into a single bolt, internally directing it at him. Slowly, I turn to him, eyes blazing. He fidgets nervously with the thin metal bracelet at his wrist. I let the uneasy quiet seep into his bones before murmuring, “You want to repeat that, Calore?”

He clears his throat, squirming like an ant under my magnifying glass. “It would be a much better match politically-“

The dagger leaves my hand faster than anyone can process, slicing along his cheekbone. Tiberias’ startled cry echoes in the silent room, hand jerking to the shallow wound. Electricity crackles on my skin as the royal guard rushes me.

They are instantly stopped by the hand their king holds up. “Wait.”

My eyes track the thin line of silver trailing down his jaw. It drips onto the table, nearly in sync with my pulse. I absently remember a time years ago, when Kilorn fell and cut his chin open on a stone by the river. He’d bled buckets, and I had panicked. Don’t worry, he’d told me. Facial wounds bleed a lot.

“Mare?”

Tiberias’ confused whisper jerks me from the memory. My chair scrapes against the white marble as I push back from the table. “How’s that for politics?”

Anabel’s demands for my head follow me out of the room and into the hall beyond. My abrupt departure seems to have pierced her shock.

How dare he?

A political match. That’s what he called a potential marriage between us, in front of all those people. Though he cast me aside months ago, the pain of this most recent betrayal festers like an infected wound. How he has the audacity to act like I mean absolutely nothing to him, I have no idea.

And to completely blindside me with the announcement. He hadn’t even posed it as a question; he just assumed I’d agree. Assumed I was still young and naïve.

He was dead wrong.

I quicken my pace as footsteps echo behind me. “Mare, wait! Please, let me speak.”

I whirl around, nearly causing him to crash into me. “I have no interest in anything you have to say,” I spit out, lip curling. “You have no right to speak to me anymore, Tiberias.”

“I thought it’s what you would have wanted-“

“So you thought it would be perfectly okay to decide my entire life for me?” My voice rises, along with my emotions. “Who gave you the damned right? In what world did you ever think that I would agree to a betrothal to you without ever discussing it? After all I’ve suffered, everything I’ve endured, why would I want that choice ripped from my hands?”

His face sags. “There was a time you would’ve leapt for joy if I proposed.”

“We said never again, Tiberias. That night was to be the last of it.” My stomach flips as the memory of that stolen night comes flooding back. I do my best to reign in my temper, steadying my voice. “You’re just a spoiled child and I’m the shiny toy you just can’t live without.”

He flinches, my insult cutting deep. “That’s not true,” he whispers, but the pain etched in the lines of his face says otherwise. “I love you.”

My hands tremble as I curl them into fists so tight my knuckles turn white. “Liar. I gave you a choice. Me or the crown. I think you’ve made your decision quite clear. It’s as simple as that.”

“It’s not that simple, can’t you see?” The temperature rises a few degrees as he draws nearer, tears pricking his eyes. I almost believe they’re real. “There’s no future for me without you.”

The part of me that is still foolishly in love with him strains towards those words, lapping them up like honey. The wiser part of me knows that Calore men have an outstanding track record for hurting the ones they claim to love.

I should walk away. But I am desperate for answers, if only so I can finally let this chapter of my life turn to ash. My resolve weakens, tears blurring my vision. I drop my gaze to the floor, praying he won’t notice.

“Then how could you cast what we have aside so easily?”

Tiberias’ toes edge into my line of sight. “Why did you make me choose, Mare?” When he reaches up to brush his thumb over my jaw, I don’t stop him. I cherish the affection even though I know I should push him away. “Why can’t I have both?”

My eyes rise to the silver streak on his cheek. The blood that divides us. The blood of nobles.

“That’s why,” I whisper, smiling sadly. “No one would ever accept a Red queen and a Silver king. The Scarlet Guard fights for equality, but I think we both know that won’t ever happen- not completely. You could call me your queen, but all it would ever be is a title. I’d never be your true equal. And… I can’t keep living a lie. I won’t waste my entire life pretending to be happy when I’m not.”

Cal’s lip trembles, and I know he’s fighting to keep himself from falling apart. I draw a wavering breath and continue, “So you can’t have both. You have to choose- and whatever you decide will be final. I won’t put myself through this again.”

“And what if I can’t decide?”

Any hope I have is lost. I was a fool to think he still cared for me at all. “Then I’ll decide for you.” He grabs my wrist before I can turn away, a question in his eyes. My breath catches in my throat.

His lips meet mine in a feverous, needy kiss. I fist my hands in the black silk of his shirt, desperate for more. I melt against him, the curves of our bodies fitting together perfectly.

The sweep of his tongue over mine tells me he truly does still love me and he’ll never leave. His fingers digging into the flesh of my hips tell me he never wants to be apart again. The saltwater on my cheeks tells him I never want him to let me go. I thread my fingers in his hair, tugging him closer, closer, closer. For a moment, I lose myself in him. I can imagine that it’s just the two of us and that’s all there will ever be. No war, no blood feud, no one to come between us.

Then the brush of metal against my brow mocks me, jarring me back to reality. It reminds me why I cannot give myself to him. We can never exist in tandem, his crown and I. Our chests heave as I break the kiss, lips tingling. I step from his embrace, watching his hands curl around my ghost. His bronze eyes shimmer with hurt.

“Have you decided?”

The brittle silence fills the space with dread. Each second he doesn’t speak drives another nail into what’s left of my heart. His mouth gapes open, then closes again. I should have known this was coming.

“Give me until tomorrow to think.” His fingers brush my arm. “I need to sort out my thoughts-“

“Save it.” I shove him away, letting the sparks gathering in my palms burn against his chest. Furious with both him and myself, I quickly put as much distance between us as I can.

A thin blue line of flame stretches across the hall, halting me in my tracks. My lightning rises in response to the challenge. “Cal.”

“Always one for drama.” I want to kiss that damned smirk in his voice away. “Can you at least wait to storm off until I’ve finished talking?”

“Fine.” I cross my arms but refuse to look at him.

“What I was going to say,” he starts quietly, extinguishing the flame now that he’s confident I won’t flee, “was that I need time to decide how to tell my council that I want to step down.”

I glance back at him. “Step down?”

Tiberias gently grasps my hand, tugging until I face him fully. “It’s always been you, Mare. I was a fool to let you slip away. Now I know that I can’t live without you. Since you left, I can’t sleep, I barely eat. I wake up reaching for you every morning. When I think about the future, you’re always there.”

“And your crown?”

With light, careful fingers, he takes it from his head and admires the intricate handiwork. It is beautiful, not even I can deny that. Thin ropes of shimmering copper and strong iron twist over each other to form a thick woven band. Much more ornate than the raw iron one he wore when he was first crowned. His lips twitch in the faintest of smiles before he flicks his wrist, igniting a white-hot flame. The crown hisses and pops, turning a searing red.

“What are you doing?” I whisper, watching molten beads of metal drip to the floor, where they sizzle against the plush carpet like eggs in a frying pan.

“It’s just a useless hunk of metal.” He shrugs. “I’d rather have you.”

My mind is a whirlwind. I don’t know what to think. I’ve waited forever to hear him say those exact words, played the scenario out a million times in my head. I’d fold into his arms, sobbing because I was finally enough, he chose me, he chose me, he chose me. I’d kiss him again and again, determined to never let him slip away.

It hits me then. I’ve been using Cal’s betrayal as an excuse to cover up what I know is the truth. I cannot continue to pretend that it was solely his choice that keeps us apart. He alone cannot bear the blame.

“I can’t.”

“What do you mean you can’t?” Hurt and confusion war in Cal’s beautiful face. The face that haunted my dreams for months, just out of reach. My chest feels hollow.

“I can’t do this- us.” I allow myself the small comfort of touching three fingers to the back of his hand. For once, he is cold. “Who will rule if you step down, Cal? Another Silver noble will step up to take your place and we’ll be right back where we started. Or worse, we’ll lose what little progress we’ve made. We can’t be together, no matter how much we want to be.”

He shakes his head, desperately clasping my hand. “No. Please, no. We can figure it out. I don’t have to do it right away, we can dissolve the monarchy and put a real government in place-“

“That could take years. Time we don’t have. My people are suffering- I have to do something tangible to help.” Gently, I remove my hand from his vicelike grip.

“And we aren’t right for each other. We both may burn, but for different reasons. Fire and lighting are made to destroy. They cannot coexist in a peaceful world.” With every word, I shatter a bit more. As much as I want to engulf myself in the warmth of his arms, I know it’s the wrong choice.

I almost lose my nerve when his Majesty, King Tiberias Calore VII, rightful Flame of the North, falls to his knees, tangles his fingers in my pants and begs. “Mare, please. I love you. I’m willing to give up everything I was meant for, turn my life around for you.”

I shake my head, tears splashing to the carpet. I know that there is no coming back from this. Once I walk away, I turn the page on this chapter of my life. I turn my back on the truest love anyone has ever been privileged to receive. If I do this, I leave Cal behind forever.

“Get up, Tiberias. Kings don’t kneel.”

@queenlannisterofthesevenkindoms @allthestarswecansee @drowningarchangel @wolffrising @photofeesh @maddieimhot @sierrakmalian65 @livy1195 @devitameatball @stellalanelovesyou @trashy-not-sassy @sunsummoner @lightword-g @oooohkinky @dressedindustandshadows @tntwme @elide-lochan-salvaterre @dreams-of-feysand @choosemarecal @awesomethreedragons @coolbooklover1234 @nxyatr @charactercreationgirl

#red queen #rq #glass sword #gs #kings cage #kc #war storm #ws #red queen fanfic #mare barrow #cal calore #tiberias calore #marecal #marecal fanfiction #evangeline samos #scarlet guard #victoria aveyard

[glorioussimon]

underappreciated things about rise 1x06: bring me stanton

sorry about spamming these things but i want to watch rise

i love this episode

coach driving gwen to school and buying her a smoothie

and gwen rejecting it

i don’t understand a fucking word of what coach is saying when they’re at football practice this is like another language

why does robbie’s football understudy look vaguely like archie from riverdale

clark is wearing a striped shirt that looks kind of like the one that sean wore in dwsa!! otto solidarity

when lou asks for a drumroll sasha could not possibly look more unenthusiastic

MAASHOUS LOVES HIS SET SO MUCH

“please don’t touch, maashous is very protective of his handiwork” 

irrelevant but harmony is so cute and i would die for her

the siremy glances!! you already know what the fuck is up

michael Knows

when maashous makes the smokestacks blow out real smoke and the troupe gets so excited

anabelle kind of pats him on the back and it’s really cute

maashous’s bow when everyone’s applauding. he looks so happy i love him

whenever i see the “let’s make drama” poster thing i think it says “let’s make obama”. this happens every time and i am sick of it

lilette crying when she’s explaining why she can’t come to rehearsal makes me so sad i hate this

tracey is wearing a super cool dress with suns and stars on it

jeremy’s little run when he’s trying to catch up to simon

simon doesn’t look directly at jeremy for a long time

jeremy looks almost scared when simon calls him back after he starts to leave

simon doesn’t say that he isn’t into jeremy, or that he doesn’t want to be with him. he says that he can’t.

jeremy’s hand on simon’s shoulder

simon kissing him back. this is underappreciated everyone talks about this i just feel that i have to mention it

when he kisses jeremy you can see how much simon not just wants, but needs this. for these few seconds he’s finally letting his guard down, letting himself feel something. which is what makes it so heartbreaking when he forces himself to run away.

god i love simon saunders so much i want to love and support him so badly

the fact that their rehearsals start at nine. i’m imagining rehearsing from 9 - midnight(?) and i feel like dying these kids are so devoted to this show

lou wanting to lock the kids in the basement for the date night

lou whispering “i’m excited”

do yall remember when the rise instagram used the picture of tracey looking behind her when she hears sasha and boyfriend arguing and put it next to the picture of simon looking at condoms so it looked like she had caught him

i really wish that they had introduced sasha at least a little bit prior to this episode because i watched rise with my mom and like, i was obsessed with the show so i knew everyone’s names but she, a casual watcher, had no idea who the fuck this girl was

tracey not forcing sasha to talk about what’s happening

tracey hugging her

i would kill a man for tracey wolfe

gwen asking gordy to skip school with her

and gordy wanting to but refusing because he’s trying to be better

saint gordy

gordy looking back at gwen

“hey anabelle you’re looking especially radiant today” i take it all back i hate simon saunders

anabelle is wearing what my dad would call a “power flannel”

who is jeremy even talking to in this scene i didn’t realize that he had friends outside of the troupe

when simon kisses anabelle on the cheek it’s so awkward

neither of them know what to say i hate this

the square smokestack

maashous is fifteen i’m older than him what the fuck

i have to protect him i’m his mom now

the picture of gwen in coach’s office

dramatic music plays in the background as robbie struts into coach’s office

i’m sorry robbie i love you but i could not give less of a shit about your troy bolton storyline

“you know the nurse’s office gives these out for free, right?” “yeah, they don’t have the same selection though”

everything that simon says in this scene is...certainly something

“now i just need a scented candle and some breath mints” this is. literally the gayest thing that simon has ever said

lilette instantly realizing that simon is trying to prove that he’s straight by doing this

ted sutherland and auli’i cravalho are two of the most beautiful people i’ve ever seen in my life

when sasha asked if there’s any place in pennsylvania that doesn’t follow the parental consent rule my first thought was “alexa play whispering”

i wish that we had seen more of their version of the guilty ones

clark’s mom makes me jump every time

clark looks like he’s ready for death

no one know how to react to this

the saga of michael and the midterm

jolene blaming robbie and football for the late rehearsals

and lilette defending him

michael trying to organize a walkout

simon starts yelling but you can’t hear him what is he so pissed about

jeremy looking at simon as he’s leaving

was vanessa suing anton ever going to go anywhere or did she just drop it? it’s never mentioned again so idk??

“for the first time in my life, i’m part of something i actually believe in.” im love lilette suarez

“i don’t wanna talk about spring awakening” gail @ lou, but also all of my friends @ me

i love what lou is saying about art here

“that’s the point of art, right? to reflect the world, to take something raw and painful, maybe even hopeless, and make it beautiful?”

gail and lou’s first date!!

it’s very clear that maashous and lou didn’t tell anyone that they were about to destroy the set

the best reaction is michael’s but honorable mention goes to harmony and lilette

no one remembers the bookstore

“ah. amazon.”

of course lou’s favorite author is f. scott fitzgerald

title drop: “this set, it was always gonna be a reflection of the world we live in. so let’s embrace that. bring me stanton.” - lou

i love the montage of the troupe finding stuff for the set

the fact that there’s no indication if they asked before taking this stuff. this could very well all be stolen

the understudies all looking for stuff together

clark and jeremy practicing the bitch of living choreography on the chairs they find

the picture of baby gwen and coach

they didn’t bother to erase the texts that gwen sent in earlier takes so she’s just sent the same text tons of time

clark being worried about mr. mazzu knowing that they’re breaking into the steel mill

“gordy’s way cooler than his dad” “which isn’t saying much”

maashous stopping to look and everyone else leaving him behind

“that’s a felony!” “shut up, simon” someone is a mood here but i can’t tell who

no one knows how to react when gwen breaks the boards off

michael just wanting to leave

jolene bringing booze

michael’s little “desperate, much?” in the background

lilette and robbie making out in the storage room

maashous is clearly drunk and it’s fucking hilarious

gwen grabbing gordy’s hand is so smooth

gordy taking a sip of beer and clearly realizing that he shouldn’t be

robbie going to lou with his problems

robbie talking about how much he loves football

the cops interrupting simon and anabelle

the troupe just. running

coach is buddies with the cops

robbie refusing to quit football or the show

again, did simon ask before he took the window from the church

i love the music in this scene!!

lou is so happy with the jukebox

francis and violet run up onto the stage to see the railroad stuff and it’s cute

happy maashous!! a gift to this world

sasha and tracey talking

it’s very clear that no one was informed about the huge-ass sign. they’re all stunned

i always tear up when the set is revealed

everyone clapping for maashous

tracey being with sasha when she tells her dad that she’s pregnant

gordy telling his mom that he needs help

robbie sadly watching from the bench

and all of this happening while lilette sings mama who bore me

vanessa crying when she sees lilette on stage

and now i’m crying too

#rise nbc #rise #underappreciated things #mine #aj.txt

[darley1101]

First Bite

A/N: For my choices besties Christina and Jen. Enjoy my fellow blood lusters! (Side note: my MC is named Anabel. That is the name I will use in most of my Bloodbound ficlets) WARNING: Contains adult content. If you are under the age of 18 look away. If you choose not to look away, well you’re reading at your own risk. @blackcatkita this is your fault!

  The steady pattering of rain against glass greeted Anabel as she jolted awake from a fitful sleep. She’d been plagued with visions of the Baron’s underground prison, of being trapped there until Baron decided she would make a delicious snack. A shiver races down her spine as she rolls on to her side and checks the time on her phone. 1 a.m. Her brow creases as she checks it again. Had it really only been a couple hours ago that she had fled the Baron’s blood dungeon with some renegade, clan-less vampire who went by Jax? Letting out a groan, Anabel flopped onto her back and stared at the ceiling. There was no way in hell she was going to be able to sleep tonight. She would be lucky if she ever slept again. It was as though the Baron had poisoned her mind with thoughts of being tortured and drained like some sort of juice box. “Get it together Anabel,” she whispered. “You knew the risks when you asked Adrian to make his real assistant.”

Adrian.

She raised her arm up and stared at the brand Adrian had pressed into her flesh. He had said it would protect her, that it would send the message that she was his. The Baron hadn’t given a rat’s ass about respecting what the brand was supposed to represent. He had seen her as a way to get to Adrian; which didn’t make any sense. In the world of vampires, Anabel was a replaceable human assistant. So why had the Baron thought she mattered to Adrian? And, just as importantly, why couldn’t she shake the memory of his dungeon. She wasn’t usually one to hold onto upsetting situations. Her ability to move on from traumatic events was something of a gift, a gift that was currently eluding her.

She propped herself up with one elbow and used her free arm to reach for her phone. Her lashes lower as she pulls up a new message to Adrian. I can’t sleep. It’s like the Baron’s inside my head or something. She hit send and then fully sat up. Dropping her phone on her bed, Anabel reached up to push her hair off her face. She sat there like that for a moment; fingers digging into her scalp as she stared at the light gray shag rug next to her bed. It was only when her phone dinged, indicating a new text, that she blinked.

Do you want me to make it go away?

Yes, please, was her initial thought. She wanted the images gone. She wanted to forget that the Baron and his sick blood pit, dungeon of human treats, and his maniacal laugh existed. There was only one way for that to happen though and as much as Anabel wanted to forget about the Baron, she didn’t want to forget about Adrian, or even Jax and his band of clan-less vamps. I haven’t changed my mind about being debriefed. I knew what I was getting into when I agreed to be your assistant. Just wish I could get the Baron out of my head is all. I’ll be fine. : )

Anabel tossed her phone aside once more and rose to her feet. She padded across her bedroom to the bathroom. Without flipping on the light, she turned on the water facet and splashed some cold water on her face. It seemed to help a little. As she turned the faucet off she heard her phone ding again. She ignored it. Most likely it was Adrian asking her if she was certain she didn’t want to be debriefed and she had already made her decision. She was going to help him help the ferals. Maybe when it was all over, when the clan-less were seen as equal and the ferals were cured, she would let him erase her memories. In the mean time it was too dangerous for her to forget. The Baron, as well as several of the other Clan leaders, knew who she was.

Her phone dinged again. Tucking her hair behind her ear, Anabel let out a sigh. Clearly, Adrian wasn’t going to accept her silence. I didn’t ask if you wanted to be debriefed Anabel. I asked if you wanted me to make it go away. There is a difference. A faint smile tipped the corners of her lips as she shook her head. She could almost see the annoyance on Adrian’s face as he had typed out the text. I am about to watch some ridiculous movie about sparkling vampires. You’re welcome to come mock it with me. Maybe it will help you forget about the Baron.

Sleep was definitely not going to come and while she usually steer cleared of the Twilight franchise, watching it and making fun of it with a real vampire was an opportunity Anabel was not going to miss. She shot back a quick reply, and then quickly changed into a pair of dark washed skinny jeans and a snug black sweater that had a tendency to cling to her breasts. She told herself she was wearing it because it was comfortable, not because it had a deep v neckline that showed off her cleavage. After all, this wasn’t a date. It was Adrian trying to take her mind off what had happened with the Baron.

***

Anabel wasn’t sure what she had been expecting Adrian’s apartment to look like but it certainly hadn’t been a loft in SoHo with exposed brick walls and comfortable looking furniture. He had given off an Upper East Side brownstone full of antiques vibe. “Nice place,” she said in place of a greeting.

“It is rather nice,” Adrian agreed. “I wish I could take credit but I bought the place furnished.” That explains why the furnishings don’t really jive with the Adrian I know, Anabel silently chuckled. “Do you want to talk about what happened with the Baron,” he asked softly.

And just like that Anabel was transported back into that terrifying dungeon, the Baron’s maniacal laugh ringing in her ears. Her fear must have shown on her face because Adrian instantly gathered her against his chest. “Hey,” he murmured, “it’s going to be okay. I swear, Anabel, I won’t let them hurt you.”

Anabel pressed closer to Adrian, her fingers knitting into the fabric of his shirt. She felt his strong arms wrap around her, and his hands moving in soothing motions up and down her back. Biting back a sob, she shifts so that she can look up at him. Her eyes meet his. She felt her heart pounding, could hear her blood rushing through her veins, as she rose up on her tip toes and pressed her lips to his. For a moment she thought he was going to push her away. He seemed on the cusp of doing it but at the last moment he yanked her closer and captured her mouth in a kiss that sent electric shocks clear to her soul. She pulled away long enough to grasp at the hem of the t shirt he was wearing. The light weight fabric balled in her fists as she dragged it upward, revealing a set of rock hard abs. Adrian took a step back, untangling her fingers from his shirt. She let out a mew of protest that only made him smirk. With one quick motion, he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it onto the floor. In the blink of eye, her sweater and jeans joined it.

His fingers slid into her dark hair, tangling with the soft waves. She let out a small yelp as he used her hair as leverage to tilt her head to the side. Her eyes fluttered closed as she felt his mouth trailing hot, wet kisses down her neck. She could feel the scrape of his teeth over her fluttering pulse and wondered if he was going to bite her. The thought of Adrian biting her didn’t scare her as much as she thought it would. In fact she wanted it. It seemed even more intimate than whatever else they were about to do. “Tell me to stop,” he groaned, his breath hot against her ear.

“Don’t stop,” Anabel replied, sliding her hands down his chest towards the waist band of his pajama pants. “You told me you could make me forget…so make me forget.” Her hands shook slightly as she pushed at the elastic waistband of his pants, shoving them down around his hips. His cock spring free, and the long, hard length of it pressed against her abdomen. She started to sink to her knees, intent on taking him in her mouth, but he kept her in place by tightening his hold on her hair. Once more, she found her mouth covered with his. And, once again, she felt the kiss caressing her soul. His free hand slid down her side, toying with the edge of her panties, before moving the lace fabric aside. She moaned into his mouth as one of his long fingers parted her folds and pressed inward. Her hips bucked against his palm, wanting him to quicken the slow, frustrating pace he had set.

“Don’t stop,” she repeated when he simultaneously broke the kiss and slid his hand from between her thighs. Adrian chuckled in response. The hand tangled in her hair fell to her shoulder. His fingers traced a gentle pattern down her side before settling on her hip. A moan caught in Anabel’s throat as he slid both hands around her back, down her buttocks, and onto her upper thighs. She gasped as he lift her up. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his waist, settling his cock against her lace covered womanhood. She rolled her hips, pressing him even closer. She wanted, no needed, to feel him inside her. Sensing her need, he used his fingers to move her panties out of the way and pressed the tip of his cock between her slick folds. For a moment, she panicked. This wasn’t how she had imagined her first time. Yet, somehow it felt right. Maybe it was the brand that made her think that she belonged to Adrian. Or maybe it was something more profound. It didn’t matter. She wanted him to be the first. First lover. First bite. First to make her feel alive.

“Oh God,” she moaned, looping her arms around his neck and tilting her head back. She felt his mouth hovering over the pulse point in her neck. It was coming. The point of no return. As he surged fully into her, the head of his cock breaking through her innocence, she felt his teeth sink into her flesh. The warmth of his mouth suckling the blood from her neck eased the stinging discomfort his penis thrusting deeper into her womb. Slowly, she felt something building, a bubble of ecstasy that threatened to take her breath away. Her nails clawed at his back as she chanted his name in time to the bursts of pleasure erupting inside her. He picked up the pace, thrust deep one last time, and then gathered her close. He pressed his forehead against hers.

Gently, Adrian lowered her legs to the ground. He reached down and brushed her hair away from her face. He studied her for a moment. “You should have told me,” he said softly.

Anabel felt her cheeks flesh. “Would it have made a difference?”

“Would I have still made love to you? Yes. Just not like this. Not in my front entry. And I certainly wouldn’t have…” His fingers trailed along her throat. She reached up and wrapped her fingers around his wrist.

“I wanted this.” Anabel stroked his cheek. “All of it. And hey…you were right.” He shot her a confused look. “You did make me forget about the Baron.”

 A/N So this is far from perfect. It has been a while since I wrote anything smutty, so be gentle in your critique. I know there is room for improvement. If you would like to see more or be tagged in future Blood Bound fics let me know!

#pixelberry #bloodbound #adrian raines #adrian x mc #choices #choices bloodbound

[gnattyplayssims]

1938 Pt2 - War on the Horizon

After the night at the fire, things changed between Kye and Anabelle though Kye couldn't decide if he liked it. Every couple of weeks she would disappear for a few days and always came back feeling like her old optimistic self but there was still a wall between them.

"Watcha reading?" His breath caught as she sat next to him leaning her head on his shoulder. She had just returned that morning from one of her mysterious trips and seemed in an extra good mood.

"Just something I picked up at the station, it's kind of boring to be honest."

"Mmm that's too bad." She yawned.

"I can watch Stefan if you want to go lie down"

"That sounds nice, but here is more comfortable." She snuggled in closer to him and soon sleep caught up with her. He couldn't focus after that and closed the book while he watched Stefan

She always came back so exhausted. He enjoyed the time with his son but he worried what she might be involved with. He just wished she could be honest with him and that he hadn't built those walls of mistrust in the first place.

"Mama!" She opened her eyes as Stefan ran to them.

Anabelle pulled Stefan into her lap and Hezekiah put his arm around her. "Did you tell mama what we did yesterday?"

"Fishies!"

"You went fishing? Did you have fun?"

Stefan nodded enthusiastically. A tear slipped down her cheek and his heart ached to know what plagued her.

He wiped away the tear before Stefan could see it pulling her closer to him. She lay her head on his shoulder again, holding Stefan tightly. "Hey, you're still a great mother. He's in good hands while you're away okay." She nodded but he wasn't sure his words helped much.

Back in Henford little Frankie was impatient for breakfast and someone to talk to. He made his way down the stairs looking for someone to give him some attention. "Come Belle!" he called after the cat who bounded down the stairs after him almost knocking him down the last step.

In the dining room he found Gramma Elena. "Brekkie NOW, Nana!"

"Frankie, you know better than to talk like that." Elena scolded her grandson.

Frankie stuck out his lip in a pout as he looked up at her. "Pwease, Nana"

She melted under her grandsons pouty face, "Okay buddy."

As Elena got Frankie some breakfast, Will was opening a disturbing letter. His eyes scanned the page quickly then he crumbled it in frustration. He went into the entry to find David playing with Belle. "Have you seen Lizbeth?"

"I don't think she's come down yet."

Sure enough he found Lizbeth in their room still in her dressing gown. "I'll be right down, Darling, you don't have to come check on me...Will? What is it?"

"I...just recieved a letter...from Evergreen."

"Oh?"

"It seems my grandmother has passed...and I'm the only relative."

"Oh! Then why do you look so upset about it?"

"The lawyer needs me to come settle the estate before they liquidate everything. I have to go to Evergreen."

"That doesn't sound too bad, I'm sure the children will love it."

"No, Lizzie. I need to go alone. You know it's not safe"

William pulled her closer. "You know I want to take you more than anything but you've read the news. Things are getting worse in the bigger cities. You and the children are safer in Henford."

She nodded and he kissed her.

"I'll be back before you know it and I'll write everyday."

William didn't waste time getting things together to head to Evergreen. He wanted to get the estate settled quickly so he could get back to his family. "Take care son, and make sure you write. Lizzie will be unbearable if you don't."

"Of course and I'll be back quickly!"

"There's my little man! Come here Frankie." he scooped up his son, giving him a big hug. "You be good for mom and your grandparents while I'm gone okay. I want to hear all about how big of a helper you were, okay?"

"Tay daddy!"

"That's my boy!" He gave him another hug.

Ivy was crying when he turned around, "Hey Ivy girl, none of that. I know it's hard but I'm not going far okay?"

Ivy sniffled and nodded trying to be strong but struggling to hold in all her emotions.

"I'm gonna write to you a whole lot and I'll be back before you know it okay?"

Lizzie and Ivy watched until William disappeared over the bridge "Mama how long is he going to be gone?"

"I don't know sweetie it's a long way to Evergreen and there's a lot he'll need to sort through while he's there"

"Why couldn't we go with him?"

"Our home is here Ivy girl"

But no matter what she told Ivy and what she tried to tell herself, Lizbeth couldn't help but feel abandoned. "He's just trying to protect you darling, you've seen the news."

"The news is what worries me, what if something happens to him."

"Let's not worry about it now."

Meanwhile back in Evergreen the rain was coming down in turrents. The rest of the storage container had been cleaned out and some poor furniture from the junkyard moved in and those in the camp huddled inside to escape the downpour. That night they had some very welcome guests.

Kent was overjoyed to see his closest friends had returned and embraced them readily. "I can't believe you're back! Aly, I thought you were going home."

"I did but then, well, things changed." She flashed a ring.

"Oh! Wow!"

Kent laughed, "Don't act so surprised."

Everyone gathered in the center of the shipping container while the rain poured outside. Lukas climbed exhaustedly into the bunk while the adults caught up. "I wish we were coming on better terms but the truth is the Valley is no longer safe. Soon war will be in all the worlds."

1939 Pt1 - Return to Henford

#mizrahi legacy #classic generation #decades challenge #sims 4 storytelling #ts4 storytelling #ts4 legacy

[inopinion]

Writing promt. Not a song title but one of my favorite lyrics to the moment: Darling, come on and let me in. Darling, all of the strangers are gone, they're gone. I said, darling, come on and let me see. Darling, I promise that I won't run. From Camila Cabello's In the Dark. You can use any fandom you like.

Hmmm… I started something for Kanej, and then I got a little stuck and couldn’t make heads or tails of it. So I went back to the full song and wrote down some ideas. It got away from me a little, but it’s sort of there…. maybe? Maybe not the closest thing to the prompt. Hope you still like it.

Reblog to hit the Marecal shippers.

@anyone-anything-canbetrayanyone, @lilyharvord, @mareshmallow, @adraxsteia, @wrenskonos, @redqueenfandom, @iris-cygnets, @maria-habs (sorry if I missed anyone, tagging mostly from memory).

Runnin’, Runnin’

“Azaleas?” Farley curled her nose.

“Yep,” Kilorn smacked the ‘p’ between his lips and smacked the palm of one hand on the closed fist of the other.

“What else?”

“Silver vs. gold bands.”

“Let me guess, Calore wants silver?”

“Oh no, he’s team ‘I don’t give a fuck.’ Mostly it was Anabel arguing precedent with herself, but Evangeline wants gold.”

“Did they say anything about a push into the Lakelands?”

“It was all bullshit. You can ask the dust mites in the air vent if you don’t believe me. There were hundreds of them.” He made a point to scratch behind his ears.

“This doesn’t make any sense.”

“It doesn’t,” Ada hummed disapprovingly, “Azaleas only grow in the south of Norta. They’d be hard to find around here.”

Farley scoffed, but put on a kind tone to explain, “I meant that they’re planning a farce of a wedding instead of pressing the advantage we just secured.”

“It’s not a farce. It’s an alliance that makes them both or our enemies. We should have left already,” Mare said. She kicked her feet against each other, bored with the analysis of Kilorn’s day-long listening above the council chambers.

“Enemies is harsh.” Farley cast her a sympathetic grimace and then turned back to Kilorn. “There was nothing else?”

“Grand total of: jack shit,” he confirmed. “Can I go wash off the mites. I wasn’t joking about the mites.”

“Yeah, go, go,” Farley dismissed. She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose.

Cameron blocked Kilorn’s exit. He rolled his eyes and turned sideways to allow her entry before taking his leave. She stepped up and pinched a bit of food off the table and cupped it in her hand as she approached.

Farley watched her. Mare watched her. Even Ada followed her movements as she looked around the room and at the maps on the tables.

“You have something to report, Cameron?” Farley asked.

“Oh, sure.” Cameron absently fingered crumbs into her lips and looked out the window.

Farley waited. Mare waited. Ada prepared her pen to take notes. Farley cleared her throat and Cameron continued looking at the seal where the widow met the frame.

“Cameron, you have a report?”

“Yep,” she tossed her head back and let the remainder of her vittles fall into her mouth.

“Then report,” Farley sighed and moved to an open chair.

“Please,” Cameron said.

“Excuse me?” Farley leaned forward.

“Report, please,” Cameron made the clarification and smiled a taunting, thin smile.

“Report, Cole. Or I will put you on rations,” Farley’s fingers tapped the communicator on her hip.

“You’ll be giving me seconds, Farley.” Cameron grinned and wobbled excitedly on her toes.

“Then out with it!”

“Fine, fine. Anabel’s down two personal guards and a Blackfin is missing. Rumor is that the young elites have vanished along with it”

“Young elites? Who do you mean?” Mare sat forward.

“Oh, let’s see. There’s Wren Skonos, and Sonya Iral. Then I heard that Ptolemus is in a furry because his wife, Elaine isn’t anywhere to be found. And then there’s the case of the disappearing princess.”

“Evangeline’s gone? With Elaine?” Mare was on her feet.

“And with Calore. Seems The Seventh is taking his party elsewhere. I guess his grandma was insisting on emeralds instead of rubies in their goblets or something.”

Mare’s mouth made motion but didn’t move as she tongued his name and couldn’t say it. “He left? With them?”

“Cal left? And the young silvers with him?” Farley wanted confirmation as well.

“Yeah, that’s what I said. Cal-the-Coward, Elaine, Evangeline, Wren, Sonya. It’s a lot of tail chasing that son-of-a-bitch.”

“Where did they go?” Mare asked.

“If I knew, do you think the Blackfin would be missing?” Cameron challenged.

Farley snapped to her feet and squeezed Cameron’s arm as she passed. Ada followed quickly and Mare skipped a few strides to keep pace.

“Farley! What does this mean?” Mare called.

“The silvers can’t track those planes. Their technology was too badly damaged in the assaults. They need the Guard to get their children back. It means, we have leverage.”

Mare kept pace until her shoulder wasn’t under her control. Whipped around and pressed down a hallway, Cameron pushed her through the palace, protesting.

“Come on. You’re no use to them. She’s gonna go scheme her way into something. We can go get some real information.”

“What do you mean?” Mare asked, moving to cooperate and follow Cameron.

“Remember, Cal-the-Coward used ancient tech to contact his aunt? I bet he’s still using it for what ever he’s doing. So let’s go turn on some transmitters and figure out his plan.”

“You think he’s gonna talk to us about what they’re doing?”

“He’ll talk to you. You pull on your girl-distressed voice and he’ll snap in two to keep you from crying.”

“You over estimate my hold on him.” Mare pulled up, slowing and then standing in the hall.

“No, Mare. He’s on a frickin’ plane out of here. I think you’re the one underestimating how far you got under his skin. Come on. Let’s go see where the traitor’s going.” Cameron continued to push forward and Mare followed too curious and too hopeful to fall behind.

—

“Flaming-fish, flaming-fish this is Silencer, do you copy?” Cameron shmoozed into the microphone, playing with dials. They’d been messing around with different controls for over ten minutes and getting static in response.

“Let’s get some food. This is dumb.” Mare tossed a rock out into the air towards the empty space that had been their battlefield.

Cameron twisted the dial a little and paused.

“Flaming-fish, do you copy? This is silencer, do you copy?” she called again.

“Cameron, what do you want?” Cal sounded tired and thin through the little speaker.

“Hey, traitor. What’s got you running for cover?” Mare pursed her lips, a silent warning to lay-off.

“None of your’s, Cameron. Farley with you?”

“Naw, the Colonel has bigger fish to fry with you being in one of her planes and all.”

“Stolen from Norta.”

“Right, Norta, that country you’re running from.”

“Get to the point or I’m gonna disconnect,” Cal threatened.

Mare lunged forward. “Wait. Just wait.”

“Mare?” The static didn’t distort the throatiness of his question.

“Where are you going?”

“I wish I could have taken you with me.”

“Where are you going?” Mare demanded, again.

“I’m trying to be who you want me to be.”

“Then come back, right now. Come back to the Guard.”

“I can’t do that. Not yet. I gotta do something first.”

“And the others? What about Evangeline and Elaine? Wren? What are they doing?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Yes, you can. What is going on?”

“It’s better that you don’t know,” Cal laughed a little. “You an the hoard of command behind you.”

“No one’s here but me. Even Cameron’s gone. It was just her and me to start. But she’s just left.” Cameron crossed her arms defiant to actually follow directions. “Just tell me.”

“All I’ll say is that I’m helping out my friends.”

“Flying your false friends out of our war is not going to stop the war from reaching them.”

“Yeah, maybe they aren’t my friends. Maybe I’ve never had a friend besides you. But if I didn’t help them, I’d just be confirming that I never deserved you. And I want so bad to have deserved you.”

“Come back and prove it to me. Come back to the Guard.” Mare listened to the long crackle of the line. His exhale came across heavy and long. A pop coursed through the airwaves and over the speaker. “Cal? Cal! Are you there? Cal?” She called, desperate at the sudden finality of the pop. Tears bubbled and streaked, washing her in grief all over again.

#samanthaslytherin #red queen #fanfiction #glass sword #kings cage #Diana Farley #Cameron Cole #Kilorn Warren #Cal Calore #Marecal #writing prompt #my writing

[elane-in-the-shadows]

Red Queen Fan Fiction - Blood Curse part 15

Find this on wattpad

chapter 1

chapter 2

chapter 3

chapter 4

chapter 5

chapter 6

chapter 7

chapter 8

chapter 9

chapter 10

chapter 11

chapter 12

chapter 13

chapter 14

chapter 15

chapter 16

chapter 17

chapter 18

chapter 19

chapter 20

chapter 21

chapter 22

chapter 23

chapter 24

chapter 25

chapter 26

chapter 27

chapter 28

chapter 29

Final chapter

Mare POV

The call to retreat comes just before noon. In the end, I did feel too detached from the battle with merely causing a blackout and blocking the streets below. I want to see Maven suffer and die and yet all I could watch were the storms called by Ella and Tyton, which have calmed a while ago.

I need minutes to release the remaining voltage in my body and still I zap everyone touching me, even Kilorn and our teleporter. But we’re urged to haste and can’t spare time. I wonder why.

The series of teleports makes me too dizzy to think much and our final destination can’t offer quietness either. It’s different kind of battlefield, a loud, dim and crowded space underground that would take me while to register. For now, I’m glad to take Kilorn’s arm.

“Can’t someone bleeding help me!” a girl with large headphones, standing to my left, screams. “And the signal down here is fucking awful as well!” She’s quite tiny despite her strong voice. Another woman runs to her through the ruckus, many of them new arrivals like Kilorn and me.

“Grace Winters!” the woman calls, “I heard you five minutes ago. You can go into a room a little higher up, and I’ll find someone to watch and help you, okay?”

Winters gathers her utensils and disappears, still looking very stressed. The other woman sighs and finally, I recognize her. Saraline, Farley’s friend from Corvium. I greet her but Saraline has no time to spare. “Barrow! Warren!” she calls. “Good to see you two safe. The premier would like to meet you, he’s over there.”

So she guides us to a small room, separated from the crowds in the hall. It’s barely furnished and debris lies in the corners. Davidson is there with General Akkadi and two other persons, likely Guard members, and they talk fervently. Before he so much as glances at us, Saraline is already gone, occupied by new tasks.

Davidson clears his throat and turns to the young man in front of him. “Your companion didn’t arrive as planned,” he says. “You haven’t heard from her either?”

The young man hesitates. “No, sir,” he says quietly.

“Calore’s team reported back,” Akkadi says. “They found no one in the royal apartments. No bodies, hardly any blood.”

My eyes widen. Curiosity takes the better of me and I can’t wait to hear more of this topic. A part of me wishes I’d been in that team.

The Guard operative becomes even gloomier. “You recommended her for this task, Operative Ives,” Akkadi adds.

“And I still vouch for her loyalty to us, ma'am, sir,” Ives retorts. “I’ll hear from her sooner or later, if she’s alive.” He looks to the fourth person in the room, a woman of my age with brown hair, light skin. Her arms are crossed in defiance. “Unless you have a general suspicion against Silvers in your ranks,” he mutters and rises from his chair. His bitterness isn’t going to improve the situation but I can’t say I wouldn’t feel the same. He meets my eyes at the door and for a moment, his expression changes to respect. He must be the same age as Tiberias but with a rather small built and warm brown skin, hair and eyes. Like Davidson, he has an Asian appearance.

“Hope, are you coming?” he calls to the woman in the back. She steps out of her shadowy corner but stays scowling. Unlike Ives, she’s Silver and now she walks straight to Davidson.

“Sir, we’ll take care of the safe conduct of the refugees crossing here now,” she says. “But what will you do for them? You agreed with Anabel to destroy their homes.” Her whole appearance is a challenge, a demand. It’s not an unfamiliar behaviour for Silvers who learn posturing from birth.

“Operative Lerolan, we have them in mind,” Davidson replies. “Thank you for your concern.”

Lerolan nods.

“Maybe you can ask your aunt for more information on the missing royals?” Akkadi suggests.

Lerolan laughs drily. “My aunt, the dearest Anabel, would see me executed before anything else. Too bad if one rejected the Calore rulers and joined the rebels before she sanctioned it.”

“However, we’re about to establish contact to the surrounding lords,” Davidson mentions. “They’ll have supplies for the refugees, be they Red or Silver.”

“Surrounding lords, hmm?” Lerolan muses. “Did you tip them off?”

“More likely your lovely aunt,” Akkadi says.

Lerolan frowns even more. “I’ll see to my tasks then,” she says to end the conversation and leaves with Ives.

Finally, Davidson and Akkadi turn to Kilorn and me with polite smiles on their faces.

“Operatives Barrow and Warren,” we’re greeted. “Excuse the delay, it’s good to see you again. What can you …?”

Davidson’s voice trails off in my head, just like the former discussion. Whatever he’s asking me, my only reply is, "you don’t know what happened to Tiberias and Maven?”

Both leaders can only shake their heads. 

Fortunately, they don’t ask me much, as if this was only a social call. I make a little report on the battle, Kilorn chats about the Piedmont base and I’m happy for every second he holds my hand.

But outside of the makeshift little office the chaos awaits. People scream and run about, some are injured ad waiting for healers and medics. They arrive too late for some and I just want to get away. Yet I have to stop when I see familiar blue and white heads in the crowd.

“Ella!”

Tyton looks up to me, no longer cool and detached. Tears are in his eyes as he takes Ella’s limp, dead hand.

She has to be. There’s too much blood around her yet her three gunshot wounds aren’t bleeding anymore. I fall to my knees and hug Tyton. I can’t give him more than that.

In the end, Kilorn finds a room for us to stay. It’s a hall of its own and we aren’t alone but no one is in these rebuilt tunnels between Archeon and Naercey, as I’ve realized our location by now. Before I settle down on a field bed, I’ve vomited two times already, sickened by the blood and gore. I can’t stop crying either and I’d feel ashamed for that if Kilorn wasn’t with me, rubbing my back.

“It’s the same for all of use, and tomorrow is another day,” he promises and I hope so much it’s true.

All we hear of Tiberias in the next days is Anabel announcing his wedding with Evangeline, to take place as soon as the bride arrives in Archeon.

“As if the metal princess is just a new flower to make her victor’s bouquet more shiny and perfect,” Kilorn comments and I have to agree. Securing the capital and the throne is all Anabel cares about and I can hardly blame her – it seems like a valid strategy for a person like her. Yet I still wish the feast to go up in flames and lightning like the one before, and the crown melting with it

There isn’t news on Maven and Iris either. Many people worry about the Cygnet princess’s disappearance, and the Lakelands’ reaction but I can’t get around imagining Maven showing up in this chaotic but safe place and destroying everything we achieved. I’m still afraid of him but that’s hardly worse than the insecurity about Tiberias’s whereabouts. Maybe he’s too injured to return, disfigured by wounds a skinhealer needs weeks to mend, or so I tell myself. But I wouldn’t be surprised if Anabel played for time while hiding his demise.

He can’t be dead. How could he be dead when he carries my earring and I haven’t talked to him again?

I spend the next few days with Kilorn and Saraline trying to restore order among the soldiers and the refugees living above ground and below. We bury Ella and the rest of our fallen as well, in Archeon’s most renowned cemetery. It’s barely damaged and the work of greenwardens shows and yet I can’t bring myself to see the beauty of the place. I doubt anyone does.

While the royals’ fates are uncertain, our leaders make the best of it and claim that all is well and Maven deposed. Two days after the battle we broadcast a video with me, Davidson, Saraline, Anabel and a Silver woman of House Welle who governs the fields close to Archeon and who just arrived to ally with us. She hardly fits in this place filled with soldiers with her long dress but she does bring food.

Grace Winters still complains about the lack of help as she’s ordered to make radio contact to the surrounding areas and their governors. As Hope Lerolan guessed, they must’ve been tipped off and with Maven out of the way, they’re likely to follow the Samos’ example and rule themselves.

A week after the battle my patience runs out. If I can’t learn more about our plans and the Calores or go home, I’ll talk to my family at least. When Grace has a break, I pester her into letting me make a distance call to the Piedmont base.

“If a telegram won’t be enough?” Grace sighs. “But the calling machines are a little way off and there’s no guarantee your family will come to pick up in time.”

“No matter, I’m sure they will.” I get Kilorn to come with us and Grace leads us to the gadgets. She puts her headphones back on and produces her notebooks to scribble along as we walk. No surprise she’s overworked.

Loud calls are made behind me, one word I understand is “Farley”. At least she has the decency to message us and I look forward to hear from her, be it good or bad news.

Suddenly, Grace stops. “No.”

“Excuse me?”

She shakes her head. “New information from General Farley. We can’t talk to Piedmont as the base is currently evacuated.” 

@mareshmallow @clarafarleybarrow @redqueenfandom @calliopexclio @inopinion @hannaharies @lilyharvord @spookysamos @runexandra @breebarrcw @iris-cygnets @asewhj @redqueenforever @@red-queen-united @mareenattitanos​ @calmareforever

#red queen #red queen fan fiction #red queen fanfiction #war storm #marecal #war storm fan fiction #blood curse #blood curse ch 15 #mare barrow #original character #storm born

[jaelyn96]

Chicago P.D. is sending good guy Jay Halstead down a “dark road” this Wednesday (NBC, 10/9c) — and giving him a messy new romance!

When the Intelligence unit discovers that a crew kidnapping the kids of drug dealers and holding them for ransom includes an ex-Army Ranger (Dallas‘ Carlos Miranda), fellow vet Jay goes undercover. But what’s good for the case isn’t necessarily what’s in the detective’s best interest.

Chicago PD Spoilers“We’re watching him fall down a downward spiral,” star Jesse Lee Soffer tells TVLine. “We’re watching him struggle with who he is, and struggle with not wanting to deal with the things that he’s done and the things that he’s seen.”

As Jay attempts “to be somebody he’s not, and try to appear like he’s in control, like he has it all together when he doesn’t,” he forms a bond with the troubled vet Luis and his sister Camila (Quantico‘s Anabelle Acosta), which leads to complications, the actor previews below. Soffer also offers his thoughts on co-star Sophia Bush’s exit and whether Jay has come to terms with his ex Lindsey’s departure

TVLINE | What are you getting into during this arc in terms of Jay’s background and PTSD? What happens in the first episode of the season, when Halstead shoots that little girl by accident, that kind of opens up a floodgate. It’s kind of Pandora’s box [with] him having PTSD. He’s obviously been to war and seen the horrible sides of what that can do to a person, but this is the key that unlocks the box. We see him go down a dark path after this. There’s really no light at the end of the tunnel right now. So it’s going to be interesting for the fans to see him unravel that way.

TVLINE | Jay makes quite an argument with Voight for putting himself undercover. Why is this particular case so important to him? I think it’s not this particular case. He sees an opportunity for a distraction. He’s really still dealing with and reeling from killing the little girl in Episode 1 [of this season], and not wanting to deal with those emotions. So anything where there’s a ton of noise going on that drowns out what’s going on in his head, he’ll take it. He sees an opportunity here to check out and to go undercover, to play a role, feel a ton of adrenaline.

TVLINE | While Jay’s undercover, he has to form connections to get what the unit needs. How much of those connections with Luis and Camila are real, and how much are him playing the part? I think they’re very real. That’s a lesson he’s learning, too: He maybe lets it be too real. There’s an understanding there of where [Luis] came from, and how he got to where he is. It’s just another walk of life. This guy could be Jay, had Jay not had the opportunities or the support system around him. This guy now lives a life of crime, and Jay’s a cop, but there’s a brotherhood in a way, and an understanding of who they are that makes Jay fully connect with the guy. He cares about him right away. I think he wishes he was living a different life. But that doesn’t change the fact that what Luis is doing is awful, and he has to solve the case and do what’s right. But I think he definitely wishes there was more for Luis in this life, and that connection is what gets him into trouble. We’re going to see him struggle with how to reconcile caring about Luis [with] also doing what’s right.

TVLINE | What is the nature of his relationship with Camila? He connects with Camila, who is Luis’ sister, especially watching her go through this ordeal and what Luis has put her through. Jay lets himself go a little too far into character and doesn’t hold back, and the lines get blurred, and his emotions get involved.

TVLINE | As Jay’s going through this tumultuous experience, who is his support system? That’s the thing — he doesn’t have one. Lindsay’s gone, his partner’s gone. That definitely did not help with the situation in Episode 1. He didn’t have anyone to rely on. He’s kind of trying to deal with all of this emotional pain on his own and muscle through it. He has a new partner. Upton’s there, and she cares, and I think she wants him to be OK and wants to be there for him, but he’s not quick to trust and doesn’t let her in. We’re watching him struggle on his own right now.

TVLINE | With him blurring the lines with Camila, does that mean Jay’s ready to move on from Lindsay? Or is he just trying to fill a void from her departure? I don’t think it’s filling the void of Lindsay. I think it’s filling the empty space so he doesn’t have to deal with all of the emotional trauma. So he doesn’t have to deal with the PTSD and killing the little girl. He’s trying to fill up that space. Is he ready to move on? I think he’s got to worry about getting himself healthy before he’s in a relationship. Look at what he’s doing now with Camila. He’s lying to her. She doesn’t even know his real name. So I wouldn’t say he’s ready for a relationship, per se.

TVLINE | Do you feel like Jay got closure on Lindsay? Sure. I think the wound is still open for him, though. That’s part of what’s playing into him going down this dark road right now. I think he feels a little lost, and he doesn’t have anything holding him down. There’s nothing solid in this life, which is interesting, because I think Hailey Upton starts to kind of hold him down and show up for him.

TVLINE | Lindsay was a big part of Jay’s life, and Sophia Bush was your frequent scene partner. How has it been adjusting to not having her around this season?

You know, it’s always sad when a cast member leaves a show. We’re a huge family, and she’s a huge part of making the show what it was. We all created something together, and so that’s always difficult. But the show must go on. That’s how it works.

TVLINE | Just last season, Jay was about to propose. Were you surprised by her departure and how suddenly it happened? Yes. I think, last season, we were struggling with how to make a lot of things work and fit a lot of story into a short amount of time. I think Jay had the right intentions. He was trying to do what was right, but going about it the wrong way.

Comment: Jesse will kill it but did they have to give him a romance. And the show better not go there with Upton. Keep them as only work partners. I️ think this is the first time we heard him talk about Sophia’s departure. .

#Sophia bush #Jesse Lee soffer #Chicago PD #linstead #stop making upton Erin 2.0

[softvrgo]

Thank you, 2019.

I don’t know if this is the first, the second or the third time I write in 2019. I honestly can’t remember. But I do know it is the last time. It’s December 31st of 2019, and I’m almost all alone in my parents' house (I have my dog with me). I chose not to go partying with my friends because I thought it could have been too much for me. I also chose not to go to my family’s dinner party because it was definitely going to be too much. So here I am, alone in a big house that I don’t think has ever really felt like home to me.

However, as I listen to the fireworks from all around the city, and fully knowing that I’m not participating in any of the parties, dinners, and gatherings from where these sounds come from, I surprisingly feel less alone than I have in the past few months. And all I can do is to focus on all the good things that I’m grateful for this year.

From the beginning of 2019, I found myself opening up a little bit more to the people at my work, especially my fellow English teachers, Anabel and Nora. Throughout the year, the three of us were supportive with each other in a way that I think most co-workers don’t get to be. I’m really grateful and happy that I got to know them and spend most of this year with them. I know most times life doesn’t necessarily work this way, but I really think we built a support system and friendships that could last for many years.

This year was also the first one in which I made a conscious choice to only be surrounded by friends with which I feel good and calm with. In the past, I have often found myself keeping friendships or acquaintances with which I didn’t necessarily have a good time, or who made me feel anxious, or just people who only wanted me when they needed me. Looking back, it’s one of the few promises I kept to myself this year, and I’m very grateful I did.

I think about the group of people that have been with me throughout most of this year and I feel a warmth in my chest that I can’t describe. María Alejandra/Cheche/Male R has been my greatest source of support and love this year. We’ve had our ups and downs, both together and individually, yet somehow our friendship has been probably the healthiest relationship I’ve had in my life. The amount of gratitude that I have for her and our friendship is overwhelming, and I truly hope we are able to grow and be in each others lives forever. Andrés has taught me intellectual, spiritual and emotional things that I never expected to learn from him when I first met him. He’s one of those people that, ever since I met him, he instantly become my best friend. And I feel through this friendship I’ve been changed (in a great way). Pepe has also been a great source of laughter and support, and even tears, for me. I feel a connection with him that I haven’t had many times in my life. It’s as if he knew exactly the kind of pain and anger that I feel, and I never feel judged by him. And Sandy, she’s a big ball of sunshine in my life. Whenever I’m with her I feel so safe and as close to happy as I can get. I’m extremely grateful that I got to meet her and have her in my life. These people I just love so much that I can’t even put it into words.

I’ve also made many great friends who, even though I may not be as close to them as I hope, have made many of my days a lot brighter and who I’m really grateful to: Alejandro, Chris, Gilberto, Hanna, Laurie, Diego Barbich, Lenin, Meli Nori, Gustavo, Fer. All of them great people who I wish I can spend a lot more time with in 2020. I can’t forget to write about my friends from the past, who’ve stuck with me through a LOT: Sofia W., Jojo, Roberto, Héctor, Sofia F, Gaby Hidalgo, Juandi. I love them all and I hope I can be lucky enough to have them in my life for many, many years.

I can’t end this “gratitude letter” without being grateful for my therapist, my psychiatrist, my DBT group, my co-workers, my dog (who has been one of the greatest sources of happiness and peace for me this year).

My sister, Mona. I can’t even begin to write all the reasons why I’m extremely grateful to her. Through all our ups and downs, she’s one of the few people who I know will always be there when I ask for help. My brother, my other ball of sunshine. I’m so grateful that I’m seeing him become the great man and doctor I’ve always known he’ll be. Watching them both grow and fight their way through this hard-ass world is inspiring. These two are the biggest sources of hope that I have in my life.

My mom and my dad. I’m grateful for everything they’ve given to me throughout my life and for all the support they’ve given me these past few years. I know it’s been really hard for them and I’m extremely sorry for all the pain I’ve caused. I’m trying to forgive them for all the things I know they couldn’t give me.

Lastly, I’m grateful for myself. I’m thankful to my body and my brain for keeping me alive throughout everything I’ve gone through. I have a really hard time trying to forgive myself for not being who I wanted to be and just accepting who I am as of now, but I’m going to keep trying. I know my body doesn’t look or feel the way that I want it to, but that’s okay. I have a body. I’m thankful for it. And my brain, my painful brain. I understand that the mechanisms that it’s given me where the ones that it considered best to get us out of danger. I understand that I’m giving it a hard time trying to change everything. And I know we can get better. We will.

Thank you, 2019. Thank you for the pain, the tears, the laughter, the lessons, the heartbreak, the hills, the life you’ve given me.

And thank You. God, the Universe, Spirit, whoever or whatever you are. I’m thankful to You because through it all, I’m still alive. I’m thankful for the life that you’ve given me, and I hope I can be more grateful this upcoming year. I can’t wait for what’s coming and I can only hope that I live life in a bigger, louder, incredibly way.