#'ray this really cannot be that deep' IT'S MY SLEEPOVER AND I GET TO DO WHAT I WANT WITH THE DYNAMIC

[flockrest]

[image ID: an ingame screenshot from the legend of zelda: tears of the kingdom focusing on tulin's ankle, where his newly accepted secret stone rests tied to a braided cord. the cord is coloured dark green, light green, white, and red. /end ID.]

hey so since i've finally said my piece on colours and meanings can i talk about this now. can i talk about what if this is not just the wack magic of a zonai artifact connecting to its new bearer, but this is how dineli chooses to pass on his stone and legacy and promise and Songs and! all the trust and belief he could ever give to someone who will "fulfil their people's role"!

now forget about the stone. forget about the grandiose things. can i just talk about the red. see through all your battles and make it back home, fledgling. can i talk about the greens!! see how the windlines are yours to command! you are a master in the making! CAN I TALK ABOUT THE WHITE?? what colour will you make of this? go and seize all that's worth seizing! ( you do not know me. i do not know you as i think i do. but i do not need more than what i have seen to show how deep my care for you runs )

[renecdote]

Eddie Diaz - tender

Also for BTHB: twisted ankle

[Read on AO3]

He feels it before it happens: the wet grass, his foot slipping, trying to catch himself and overcorrecting. Pain, sudden and sharp enough to make his eyes water, lancing through his ankle and up his leg.

“Shit,” Eddie hisses, stumbling, reaching out, reaching for—

“Whoa.” Buck, catching him. “You okay?”

Eddie blinks back the tears. Blinks through the pain. 

“My ankle,” he manages. “Fuck.”

Hopping a little, his nose stinging with the pain. Buck’s arms tightening around him. 

“Okay,” he says. “Okay, I’ve got you. Let’s—let’s sit down, can you sit?”

It’s embarrassingly graceless, but he sits, right there on his ass in the wet grass. He can feel the dew soaking through his jeans, almost a distraction as Buck kneels and starts unpicking his laces. Eddie could do it himself, but. It’s easier to let Buck fuss, he has learnt that over the years. And it’s the other thing he has learnt as well: it’s okay to let people fuss over him. It’s okay to want it, sometimes. 

“Ouch,” Buck winces when the sneaker comes free.

Eddie winces too. His ankle is already swelling, the skin hot and tender under Buck’s touch when he starts gently probing. He sucks in a breath through his teeth, hissing at the pain, and Buck murmurs an apology. 

“I don’t think it’s broken,” he judges. “But—sprained, at least. You should probably get an x-ray to be sure.”

Great. Eddie rubs at his face, his mind already spinning: get to urgent care, figure out how he’s going to pick his son up from a sleepover with a sprained (possibly broken) ankle, hope to god it’s not broken, the expenses of it all, the time off work. 

“Hey.” Buck’s hand on his knee, warm and solid and grounding. “We’ll figure it out.”

Deep breath. He’s not doing it all alone anymore. He has Buck. His best friend, who likes to fix things. His best friend, who broke down Eddie’s bedroom door, picked him up off the floor, and helped put him back together every day until he could stand on his own two feet again. He’ll do it again now, Eddie knows. He just needs the reminder sometimes. 

“Help me up?” he asks, holding out a hand.

Buck takes it and pulls him to his feet. Steadies him there, while Eddie tests his ankle again and decides no, he really can’t put weight on it to walk.

“I can carry you,” Buck offers, dead serious when Eddie glances at him, eyebrows raised.

“You cannot.”

Brows furrowed, nose scrunched up in disbelief, like he doesn’t understand why Eddie would doubt him. “Of course I can.”

Eddie lets his eyes trail over the muscles Buck’s t-shirt is fighting to contain and relents, “Okay, you probably can. But you’re not going to.”

“Eddie.”

“Buck,” he mimics. “Just—give me a hand, I can hop.”

Buck rolls his eyes. “Because that’s so much more dignified than being carried.”

Eddie pokes him, right under the ribs where he knows Buck is ticklish. “You can carry me from the car to the house, how about that?”

He’s joking. Mostly. And studiously not thinking about all the rom-coms he has watched over the years where a scene like that follows the Big Romantic Kiss. Buck squints, like he’s trying to figure out if Eddie is mocking him, and Eddie—doesn’t look away. It feels a little like playing chicken, standing in the middle of the road, staring at the headlights coming, coming, coming. Not flinching. 

Buck smiles. “I’ll hold you to that—literally.”

“You think you’re so funny.” Eddie rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling too. It’s probably all in his head, but he thinks his ankle hurts a little less, when he’s smiling. Just a little, though. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

It’s a slow, painful hop back to the car. But Buck’s arm stays solid and warm and grounding around him, a steady litany of encouragement keeping them going, every word an affirmation: I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.

And Eddie has the same realisation he has had a dozen times before: I love you.

Followed quickly by it’s counterpart, more fragile but growing more certain every day: maybe you love me too.

[slashingdisneypasta]

Teen!Chucky /Charles Lee Ray x Reader || Oneshot

Title: Night Time Air 

Notes:

·         Y/B/F: Your best friend

·         This was inspired by Season 5 Pretty Little Liars when Caleb and Alison are rocky and Alison tries to tell Hanna not to be with him, and she goes ahead and gets back together with him. 

·         Told you I would overuse this gif. 

·         I should be doing requestssssss

Plot: 

Chucky is the boy at your school, that is well known for all the bad things he has done. He has no respect for anyone except… maybe you… and he is unpredictable, which is exactly why your friend, your bitchy, not-really-your-friend, frenemy-that-you-only-spend-any-of-your-time-with-because-your-real-friends-like-her tries to order you not to hang out with him.

You don’t take it well.

Warnings: Language maybe? 

~~~

It takes a few seconds before I can clear my enough, and stop myself from jumping to the conclusion of what she’s trying to tell me. Demand of me. “What?”

“You shouldn’t hang out with him anymore. I mean, I know he’s pretty and everything,” With a roll of her eyeshadow heavy eyes, she tries to infer to me, that my friendship with Chucky is so skin deep. Again, I bite my tongue and stop myself from saying anything, but oh, are there things coming to mind that I wish I would say. “But he’s never been any good, since kindergarten. I’m just looking out for you, you know. You know that I love you.” Oh, sure.

My blood boils at her words, and the fake way she tilts her head and furrows her eyebrows, the  touch she manages to land on my arm before I flinch away that makes me feel disgusting. She has to be aware that we are not friends, and there is no one else around so where does she get off saying this stuff to me. Demanding something, from me like she’s got any authority. “Maybe you didn’t sense my complete disbelief the first time through your hairspray; I understand chemicals can interfere with alien sensory technology. So, let me say it again. What?”

“Woho,” She laughs, but I see under the thin, unimpressive veil of counterfeit that completes her look of total bitch, that she was not expecting a snap back like that. “Wow, Y/N. No need to get salty… “

Something about the night air has made me confident tonight, for sure. Because at school, there’s no way I’d say these things to her. I’m glad I came out tonight! “I don’t know where you think you get the authority to tell me what to do, but you’re mistaken.” Nervously, I glance past her into Y/B/F’s house to see if they were looking at us, because the last thing I need is drama with the others after this, and then stonily back at Jane. “Tell the others whatever, I’ll set it straight tomorrow. I gotta go, I happen to know where Chucky’ll be tonight.”

She narrows her eyes and looks miffed, but I’m already turning around, shoving my hands into the pockets of my jacket and walking off down the street. God, I’m glad I said that. Its been dying to come out since I realised I didn’t like her in the first place- it might stir some trouble in our group, but its better she knows I don’t like her then to let her keep thinking she any control in my life. Besides, I’d kinda… I’d much rather go see Chucky then stay in and play forced Monopoly with her for the rest of the night, and wake up in the morning with moustache drawn on my face.

When I get to my destination, I don’t see him but I don’t get to wonder if he just hasn’t come to the playground tonight like he brags he does every night -like some edge master on the big screen,- because he calls my name and I turn around to see him walking over from another street. “What are you doing here?” He stops in front of me on the woodchips and stuffs his hands in his trench coat pockets, grinning down at me in a way that gives me the strangest feeling that he’s glad I’m here. “Thought you’d be… Ahhh, I dunno, enjoying skimpy girl sleepover activities? See, I listen to you. Unless I got the day wrong?” I wish we could move somewhere else, maybe walk around, but he’s just standing and looking at me with his grin like I’m a weeping angel.

Instead of staying there and talking about my run in with Jane, although I’m sure he’d love to hear about it -he doesn’t like her either. One of the many things we talk about when we’re together,- , I turn and head for the swing. “Skimpy girl sleepover activities? Sounds like you put some thought into that!” I tease, sitting in a swing and pushing off. There’s something very free, about playing on a playground when its dark, and no on else is around. I suddenly get why its such a popular teenage stereotype. Not too far out of my comfort zone like most adult things that I want to do or am being pushed to try, but still new.

He laughs. “Would’ve come by and visited if I knew where your girl friend lived.” Turning my head, I watch Chucky come around and get in the other swing, but not push off.

“You would’ve been disappointed. We had intensive plans to snuggle up in our skivvy’s and raincoats and watch Singin’ In The Rain. But I would’ve made room for you!” Which is true. I would. I definitely would. I’d love to ‘accidentally’ fall over and snuggle with him. Totally would. Any day. Yes.

Watching him grin to himself at my dumb joke gives me little tummy squirms, so I take a deep breath as I swing and look away. “Oh well. Glad I get you, tonight. They always seem to win your time.”

“They’re my best friends… “I say, falling backwards and feeling my hair fly after me, on either side of my face. Then turn and grin at Chucky, curiously. “You’ve never expressed any desire to hang with me more, before.”

“Well its not like I have many friends apart from you… “He trails off, but his face doesn’t reveal any sadness or forlorn desire to change that. I know, for a fact, that he doesn’t like anyone else at our school. He has nicknames for them all! And none flattering. He turns to me sharply, causing my heart to seize in my chest. Oh my god. “Custody agreements, how would I go about winning weekends with you?”

Rolling my eyes, I look away and keeping swinging, distracting myself from him. “Mm, payment’s a bit dear,” I mutter, loud enough for him to hear but quiet enough to be a mutter to myself. I wanted to reply, but I don’t want him to hear the rest of that quip. Which is ‘Its you have to kiss me’.

Seems the night air isn’t just making me confidently mean, tonight…

“I bet… “He says back, not quite to me and under his breath, the same as how I said it. Then he gets up from the swing and looks around, shifty eyed. “Let’s walk around a bit.”

He looks bored, so I slow down the swing and pop off, not noticing he moved right in front of me until I’ve hopped right into him. “Nice going, pal! Smart move!” I exclaim sarcastically, and push out of his arms and away from his face, which is grinning cheekily and laughing.

“Dunno what you’re complaining for, I’m not the only one who got to second base just then! Wanna try for first?”

“You’re very funny.” I say, forcing an irritated tone through my smiling face. Its times like these, when I thank having a crush on such a loudmouth and tease. “As if.”  

“Yeahh, right. Whatever, come on.” He starts walking, scooping me up on the way, walking with his arm over my shoulders… like friends. Friends. This is friendly, I remind myself quickly. These moments, when he touches me and acts like we’re a couple, are when I curse having a crush on such a loudmouth and tease. We walk around the park, not leaving the gleam of the streetlights, but leaving the mulch of the playground for the grass surrounding it. After a while of conversation about school, and other kids in our class -never touching his father or mine, this night time playground acting as sanctuary, - , we hit a lull in the conversation, and I watch our feet wading through the luscious grass, due to excessive levels of rain recently. My fingers feel like icey poles. He hasn’t removed his arm from me the entire time we’ve been walking, though, so at least the rest of me is warm. “So, what happened to your sleepover anyway. Cancelled or did you blow them off?”

“Uh… I blew it off.” For you. Of course, I don’t utter the last words. Too much of a chicken shit to finish the deal, even feeling the night air on my cheeks.

“There’s my bad girl.”

“Hah,” Thank god, its too cold for my cheeks to heat up. I glance at his face, and do a double take. He’s waiting for the rest of the story! Uhhhhh… “Um, well, we… Jane said something annoying, you know.” Flashing him an awkward half-smile, I see he’s still waiting for the kicker and look away again, picking up his other hand and lacing my fingers through his, to distract me. “Here, warm my fingers up, they’re icey.” As his fingers willingly wrap around mine, I don’t have to glance to feel his look edging me on for the rest of the story. I sigh. “Well, she said something dumb about not wanting me to hang out with a certain bad boy loner type with yucky hair, and I didn’t feel like sticking around.”

“I’m gonna ignore the part about my great hair for the moment, because I’m too chuffed that you stuck up for me… “Remarkably, somehow, his voice is grinning, as he slows us immediately too a stop and moves to stand in front of me, loosening his arm around me just enough to do so, but not letting go so I’m kind of… well, I’m enveloped in him. I can smell his familiar shampoo and aftershave, and feel weirdly, wonderfully small in front of him, who is taller. Which is usually not too noticeably because he isn’t magnificently tall, but he is… 3 to 5 inches taller than me? And because we’re so close, you can tell.

Embarrassingly, I just stand there silently as he grins, and brings our linked hands up to his mouth, to tap a kiss to mine. What? What? WhAT! This is not… this cannot just be friendly, can it? I glance away from his blue-blue eyes, so I can gather my voice back. “Not a big deal.”

“Maybe not, but I like it.”

With nothing else to use my voice for, because I can’t think of anything else to say, I look back up at his, our hands still close to his mouth a grin on his lips. There, I decide to do something. I decide to make or break our friendships, to see what happens, to do something I want to try.

I decide to kiss him.

I tilt my head, and pull down our hands and close my eyes, not allowing for any second thoughts before I get up on my toes and hopefully touch his mouth with mine. I remember wondering what happens if I actually get his chin or his nose, before my lips connect with his and everything goes starry.

Because immediately like he was prepared for it, like that, he kisses back. Pulling me in comfortably with his arm and letting go of my hand so he can cup the side of my neck, his thumb resting on my jaw. I use my new freedom to bunch his coat in my fist, and bring him warmer to me. Not that it could get much warmer for me, with his mouth laying a long, soft kiss to me.

This is definitely the ideal outcome to my decision.  

“Took way too long for you to do that, sweetheart.” Is the first thing he says post-first-kiss, husky and quietly, against my lips as he looks from them to my eyes which is way too attractive a power for a teenage boy to have if you ask me, before kissing me again, this time deeper and with his tongue. All I can do is stand there and try my best to reciprocate the sheer, hot passion that somehow he’s able to convey to me without words, despite this being my first kiss, to the best of my mediocre abilities.

“I… didn’t know you were waiting for it,” I say, when he seems done for more then 2 seconds. A flash of a smile crosses his face, rolling his eyes.

“I wasn’t obvious enough for you??”

“No!”

“I said that I’m glad I get you tonight!”

“That’s code for ‘Kiss me’???”

“Yes!”

“Well, I’ll remember that now!”

He sighs in exasperation while smiling, which is good because I’m grinning too. “Do you wanna just make out some more?”

“Oh, yes, we shall. Good idea.”

[shinyrockalaska]

Hogwarts Mystery characters as quotes from speak

The quotes are either a description or something they would say/think

MC: “If I ever form a clan, we'll be the anti-cheerleaders and walk under the bleacher forming mild acts of mayhem.”

Rowan: “Nothing is perfect. Flaws are interesting. Be the tree.”

Ben: “Sometimes I think high school is one long hazy activity- if you are tough enough to survive this, they'll let you become an adult. I hope it's worth it.”

Penny: “Rumors are spread by jealous people.”

Bill: “It's easier to floss with barbed wire than admit you like someone in middle school.”

Tonks: “CONJUGATE THIS- I cut class, you cut class, he, she, it cuts class. We cut class, they cut class. We all cut class. I cannot say this in Spanish because I did not go to Spanish today. Gracias a dios. Hasta luego.”

Tulip: “When people don't express themselves, they die one piece at a time.”

Barnaby: “be aggressive, BE-BE Aggressive! B-E 

A-G-G-R-E-S-S-I-V-E.”

Andre: “You have to know what you stand for, not just what you stand against.”

Charlie: “I want to be in fifth grade again. Now, that is a deep dark secret, almost as big as the other one. Fifth grade was easy -- old enough to play outside without Mom, too young to go off the block. The perfect leash length.”

Liz: “The one good thing about being kind of shy is that nobody bugs you when you want to be left alone.”

Jae: “Homework is not an option. My bed is sending out serious nap rays. I can't help myself. The fluffy pillows and warm comforter are more powerful than I am. I have no choice but to snuggle under the covers.”

Badeea: “Art without emotion its like chocolate cake without sugar. It makes you gag.”

Diego: “Think about love, or hate, or joy, or pain- whatever makes you feel something, makes your palms sweat, or your toes curl. Focus on that feeling.”

Merula: “I need a new friend. I need a friend, period. Not a true friend, nothing close or share clothes or sleepover giggle giggle yak yak. Just a pseudo-friend, disposable friend. Friend as accessory. Just so I don't feel or look so stupid.”

Ismelda: “All that crap you hear on TV about communication and expressing feelings is a lie. Nobody really wants to hear what you have to say.”

Talbott: “Gym should be illegal. It's humiliating.”

Chiara: “Don't expect to make a difference unless you speak up for yourself.”

Leviosa kid: “I wonder how long it would take for anyone to notice if I just stopped talking.”

Beatrice: “I have survived. I am here. Confused, screwed up, but here. So, how can I find my way? Is there a chain saw of the soul, an ax I can take to my memories or fears?”

Jacob: “IT happened. There is no avoiding it, no forgetting. No running away, or flying, or burying, or hiding.”

Skye: “I am not going to think about it. It was ugly, but it’s over, and I’m not going to think about it.”

Murphy: “I see a girl caught in the remains of a holiday gone bad, with her flesh picked off day after day as the carcass dries out. The knife and fork are abviously middle-class sensibilities. The palm tree is a nice touch. A broken dream,perhaps? Plastic honeymoon, deserted island? Oh, If you put in a slice of pumpkin pie, it could be a desserted island!”

Orion: “This is where you can find your soul if you dare. Where you can touch that part of you that you've never dared look at before. Do not come here and ask me to show you how to draw a face. Ask me to help you find the wind.”

Face paint kid: “I am getting better at smiling when people expect it.”

[annette-martel-blog]

Practice Challenge 2 [part 1 /2]

“beauty is in the eye of the beer holder”                               - a.m & f.g | the selection sleepover

much thanks to @berklee-boyer @meme-antoineen @isabellafaulkner @ingrid-liljedahl @domschreave @finleygansey

It is the simplest thing to sit aside and watch from far away. 4 girls on this plane to Angeles to participate in a seemingly “frou frou” tiara battle over the beloved Prince Dominic. It’s easy to stare down through the puffy pastel clouds around us. From this high up, it all looks so fake, so flimsy. Cardboard cities with little cardboard people, all with their own lives.

There’s something absolutely mesmerizing that is the little secluded world that only exists up here. The morning sky is muted: an endless canvas on which colors are tossed upon. It’s mostly cloud now, with deep steel blue-greys that reflect the hidden stars. I can feel as though the sky is alive and breathing, growing with each passing moment as a constantly-changing canvas for the world to gaze at. There’s just something about watching the world pass by from the surprisingly intimate space in a plane that creates the strangest sense of wonder.

The sendoff was enthusiastically warm. Atlin gave its own farewell to be remembered. Kisses were thrown into the air, arms graciously opened to give adieu to the leaving girl. I realized that perhaps I was their princess. The hopes that I might be the princess were encompassing the province that I called “my home away from home”, but I, I would be Atlin’s princess. And I was so honored to be that.

Father was resilient. He was quietly upset, which didn’t affect me too much. I knew he had that struggle within himself to let me go to a palace full of strangers. He didn’t say much to me when I was packing to leave. Every so often, I would tiptoe from my room to his room to see if he was peeking on me, getting ready to leave for who knows how long. It disappointed me when he didn’t, which was always. But perhaps the only consolation I had was the minute I was about to leave.

I was walking down the strip to the car that would drive me to the airport. People were laughing and cheering with the buoyancy of hope lifting up their spirits. I offered the people smiles, threw kisses upon their cheeks, and waved back. I was in the car when Father slipped a letter through the window quickly with a smile before the car drove off and I was gone.

Même Antoineen, Isabella Faulkner, and Ingrid Liljedahl were all on my plane. They were a lovely bunch, though Même was interestingly odd. Isabella was airy and light hearted in a gracious way which I found elegant and timeless. Ingrid was incredibly kind, talking in a very sensible and down-to-earth manner. Même was entertainingly funny, always keep us on our toes and striking up a new conversation when one died down. We had a couple conversations about our excitement/nervousness, Même’s ostriches, and my lamb Petal, but I loved the fact we could have a comfortable silence we all enjoyed. As for now, we all recline peacefully in the quiet chatter of the flight attendants and buzzing hum of the engine.

I pull out the letter from my father, hesitant to open it. It seems thin and frankly a little musty, but I brush it off. I open the letter and begin reading.

My daughter,

I write this letter with a heavy heart, knowing that you will be sent off to an extravagant home filled with royals who feel like foreigners to you. But do not think for a moment that I am anything but joyful for you. I know you carry a heavy weight each day to perform the tasks that are expected of you, ever since you were young. And for that, I will be eternally proud of you. I offer you some words of wisdom for your life ahead. Love everyone. Every leaf. Every ray of light. Laugh everyday. Forgive. People will come and go. I hope you know that. But one person in my life was constant. My soulmate was the only star in my life that remained brighter than the others. That is love, Annette. Love has reined in the brightness and beauty of a thousand suns for me. And I wish with all my heart that you, one day, will find your star too. Perhaps you will need to travel through a few universes, gaze at blazing galaxies, and stumble through constellations before you find yours. Even if your star is the smallest one in the sky, it can grow into a blazing fire. Love is not physically seen, it is felt within the heart. And even if the Prince is not your star, the Selection will show you how beautiful life can really, truly be. I love you, Annie. And I always will.

                                                                                       Forever love,                                                                                                Victoria                                                                                Your 7th birthday

I hold a hand to my mouth as I finish the letter. My mother wrote this letter on my 7th birthday. Her hand was once here, flourishing her signature across the page and dotting the i’s the way she always did. Her fingers once clutched this paper and sealed it, to have it tucked away for 10 years. Only for her daughter to read it again on a plane with 3 strangers, leaving behind her second home and her family. I trace my hand over the word “Annie”. My childhood nickname. Something only my mother called me. Flashbacks intercept my thoughts and I am taken back… to happier days.

Memories cloud my mind. A familiar face tucking me into bed and kissing my cheek gently, forming words that sound vaguely like “Goodnight, Annie!”. An exhausted woman beaming down at me, “Welcome to the world, Annette,” as sweat beads form on her forehead. “Annie, come here,” my mother cooing with her arms stretched out for me to take my first steps. And the blank look on what once was a stunningly attractive face, arms folded over her chest as my younger self stares at the coffin.

 And that’s when it begins. The faintness, the lack of breath, the dizziness. I excuse myself to go to the bathroom. Shapes are distorted, colors blurred together. My heart is pounding faster than it should be, racing against my mind that cannot keep up. My hand in front of me is shaking uncontrollably. What were once quiet voices suddenly increase in volume drastically. Blood pounds in my ears. My throat tightens and I am left gasping for air. The arguments in my head fire like bullets and my body collapses. I try to focus on something, anything. I focus on my breathing for a couple minutes, forcing myself to stop hyperventilating. It takes a couple more minutes for my mind to catch up to my slowing body and the ringing in my ears stop. I get up shakily, exiting the plane’s bathroom.

Isabella asks if I’m alright. I nod quickly, the same thing I always do whenever a panic attack occurs, which isn’t very often. I choose to sip on water and sit quietly for the rest of the flight, munching on my breadsticks. I lean back and try to shut my eyes as though it can block out the rest of the world. Perhaps it can, for a couple of hours at the most. So I let the darkness consume my vision and it swallows my thoughts. And my mind dissolves to emptiness.

Finally.

“Finley Gansey, it’s nice to meet you,” a redhead chirps with a grin from the seat next to me. I smile back at her and introduce myself while I nervously anticipate the young girl wielding the silver scissors. I spend the entire time talking to Finley while a team of people flit around, snipping at my hair, doing my nails, and such. She seems lovely, talking about her life back home and we both agree to have a drink together sometime. Turns out I’m not the only one who appreciates a good glass of wine.

The conversation ends when we part ways; I am lifted off the chair to go and select my outfit for the first day at the palace. The fashion team is quite delighted when I tell them I have an interest in design. They go through multiple gowns, from a delicate yellow frock that compliments my eyes to a dark forest green gown to an innocently pink dress adorned with tiny stitched flowers. We have similar views: noticing if it’s too vulgar or stuffy or if it just looks plain awful on me. I end up settling on a strapless black dress decorated with silver firework-like flowers. They accessorize me with dangly diamond earrings that match my necklace and bracelet. They adjust more things: fixing the hem, adjusting the waistline, and pinning the dress so it won’t fall down. Finally they usher me to a large mirror before being called to attend to another girl. I am breathless at my reflection.

I am not perfect. I am not angelic or pretty or delicate. I am stormclouds and tidal waves and thunder clouds. I am blank pages and open eyes. I am not easy.

And I love it.

 2:34 am.

That’s what the clock on my nightstand tells me as I peep outside my room . Earlier tonight, we had a sleepover in our hall, hosted by Evadne and Berklee. I met Evadne at the sleepover, but Berklee and I had met beforehand during the tour of the palace. We had bonded over the thought of pasta when we neared the kitchen. She was incredibly sweet and good-natured, which instantly showed in her personality. That was probably why she was one of the public’s favorites.

Everyone had now either gone to sleep or passed out, drunk. The beginning was quite fun: everyone brought food and we all had a great time. It wasn’t until I brought the alcohol that it started getting wild. Turns out, Fiona, Finley, and a couple other girls got drunk with me off of wine, whiskey, tequila, and other various liquor. Evadne, Berklee, and Jyn were all trying to remove alcohol from our grasps, but I had a larger stash than they predicted. After all, you never brought your entire army to one battle.

The prince’s cousin, Percy, ended up joining us and playing truth or dare. I had learned earlier that Percy was extremely flirty, when I bumped into him on the staircase. We had a quick conversation which involved an interesting amount of fun banter before I left. None of the other royals made an appearance but the rest of the night was just as fun: fire breathing, getting more drunk, waving breadsticks, and such.

I’m in the same hall as Evadne and Berklee, who I nicknamed “beaver”, along with Margarita, Nina, and Jyn. Half of the girls are collapsed in Berklee’s room. A couple others returned to their rooms before the end of the night. No one else is awake at this time which relieves me.

I slip on a pair of socks and quietly tiptoe out of my room. My head is pounding and I can’t concentrate on anything. Evadne and Berklee limited my alcohol consumption so I probably won’t have a terrible hangover in the morning, but I need water and snacks. I’m deliriously happy. I am soaring on the wings of intoxication, captured by the enchanting spell of moonshine. Somewhat, at least.

As I quietly make my way downstairs, I have time alone to think. I’m finally here, at the palace. The Selection has already officially started and as soon as I wake up tomorrow morning, it’ll be all cameras shoved in my face, smiling 24/7, wearing heels. No more alone time. Which reminds me, I have a morning run with Debbie and Berklee. Great. But from now on, my life is different. For the better or the worse, I have yet to discover.

I find my way to the kitchen and flick on the lights. Thankfully, there’s nobody here, but the scent of our dinner lingers in the spacious kitchen. I open a cabinet cautiously before a voice startles me.

“What are you doing in here?”

The voice sounds familiar yet not. I can’t quite put my finger on it. I turn around and I’m greeted by the sight of the one and only Prince Dominic. Crap.

“Nothing. What are you doing in here?” I shoot back, trying to avoid the fact that I’m in my, frankly quite skimpy, nightgown. He raises his eyebrows, answering, “Well, this is my home, after all. The Selected aren’t supposed to leave their rooms at all tonight.”

I raise my eyebrows as well. “It’s funny how you assume all the Selected are following the rules. I should be justified if I’m craving 2 am cookies, right?”

“Can I help you find something?” the Prince inquires. “I’m looking for cookies actually. Can’t seem to find them,” I say, inching backwards slightly. “Oh, they’re hidden in this cabinet up here. Alina likes to binge,” he offers a conspiratorial smile and reaches up easily. “Don’t tell her I said that,” Prince Dominic says, “Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting to meet any of you tomorrow. 

“Well, I wasn’t expecting to actually bump into anyone tonight, this was supposed to be a stealth mission. And thank you. What are you up to in here?” I ask, clutching the countertop. I need water.

“Well, your stealth mission seems to be a fail,” he remarks, “I was just looking for comfort food before tomorrow. I have a feeling I won’t have any spare moments to myself after tomorrow, but apparently “tomorrow” starts right now since I’m already meeting some of the Selected!”

“Ah, I thought it was only me that was mentally preparing to meet people using food. What’s your favorite comfort food? Oh, and would you mind showing me where the mac and cheese is?”

Apparently the prince had a fondness for anything bready as comfort food. It shocked me when he informed me of the fact that I wouldn’t be able to make mac and cheese (or any pasta!) because the chefs would provide all the meals for us.

We however did share a love of chocolate when I asked if there was any chocolate.

“Thank goodness there’s chocolate. I don’t think I’d survive without it,” I offer a small smile. “Me neither,” he agrees. “Oh, good, you like chocolate. That would’ve been a dealbreaker,” I say. “So you’d quit the Selection right now if I said I didn’t like chocolate?” he raises his eyebrows with an intriguing look on his face.

I can’t deny the Prince is eye candy but clearly there’s more to the eye than that. Hopefully I’ll be here long enough to figure out exactly who he is.

“Perhaps,” I retaliate, “After all, I should know what I want.” “Well, good for you,” Prince Dominic sighs, “Unfortunately, I’m not so sure of what I want.” “Reminder that I said I should, not that I actually do. I’m just trying my best not to completely embarrass myself,” I laugh, “You know what they say, fake it till you make it.”

“Oh, I certainly live by that saying on a daily basis,” he responds. We banter a bit more back and forth while I grab a cup of water. Talking to the Prince was certainly interesting, but I wasn’t too nervous surprisingly.

“How are you holding up emotionally for the upcoming greeting of 35 girls tomorrow?” I ask curiously, still clutching my cookies and chocolate. “Oh, I am so ready to meet the 35 hot girls who all want to marry me,” the Prince smirks.

So this is what the magazines were talking about.

“Oh, of course,” I say sarcastically, “I think all of them came with engagement rings too, so they can collapse on the ground as soon as they see you and propose to you. How will you ever choose?” “Oh, I don’t know,” he responds loftily, from which I assume he’s joking. “But they’ll have to earn hard to work my love.” “Well, I guess it wasn’t supposed to be as easy as all of us lounging around in lacy lingerie,” I raise my eyebrows. “Well, if that’s what you want to do, I’m all for it,” he winks.

Well. This certainly will be an interesting Selection.

“I’m sure half the girls would jump at the chance to display their half-naked selves to you in gauzy underwear,” I retort, “Perhaps you should ask them instead of a girl sneaking down for chocolate and snacks at 2 am.” “Maybe I will,” he says, to which I sarcastically suggest an underwear shoot. And of course, the reply is nothing less than “Didn’t the Gossipel do one already?” and “Remind me, did you take part in that?”

I smile coyly. “Unfortunately for you, I did not. Perhaps I should’ve.”

It’s a brief exchange of words and smiles before I leave. And it comes over me that I met the Prince before I was supposed to. I smile quietly to myself, a secret hidden by the encompassing darkness blotting out the faintest light, unveiling the mystery of the night.

I eat my snacks leaning against the frame of Berklee’s door, smiling down at these girls who I will be going on a rollercoaster with: coasting through laughter and happiness but also pain and tearful goodbyes. And even though I’ve only known them for 1 day, I wouldn’t want to go through it with anyone else.

I spend my last couple minutes awake thinking about the Selection. And as I settle into the dream world, my eyes closing against the dim line of twilight, I can almost hear a voice whispering to me, “Destroy the world with your fire. Set flame to the weak. After all, the phoenix will always rise out of the ashes.”

And of course, I can’t help but agree.

[mercy-thompson-fanfiction]

Beginning

“Ray, brighten up.”  Sora whined.  She was pulling a hoop through a cartilage piercing with a makeup brush in her mouth.  “You and dad both, too serious.  Mom says you need to loosen up.”

“I should have eaten you in the womb.”

“Ha,”  The younger turned around, hands on hips.  “What do you think?”  Her wavy reddish-brown hair was parted to the side and reached down to mid-back.  Her freckled pale skin was carefully hidden underneath concealer and foundation and her eyes were brought out by a mix of gold and greenish-brown.  

“I like your freckles.”

“It’s not that I don’t, it’s just hard to work around them.”  The girls were fraternal, but looked as identical as they possibly could anyways.  A surprising growth spurt had placed Sora at the same height as Raven now.  Long, lean, with long hair their biggest (and really only) difference was melanin.  Raven was slightly more tan with no freckles anywhere in sight.  Her eyes were a dark brown, her hair almost black but with a reddish tint to it when she was in the sun.  It waved in the same way her sister’s did.  They had inherited their mother’s shaped eyes and nose but their cheekbones seemed to be neither parents’.  They were more angled than their mother’s but not as high as their father’s, something entirely their own.

They were long-limbed and tall however, now both of them even at 5’6”.

Identical in every way except, technically, biologically.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come?”  Sora pressed, turning back around to straighten her skirt in the mirror.

“Full moon.”  

“Oh…”  The red head’s face fell a little.  

“Next time.”  Raven promised, a little thankful her sister couldn’t smell lies.  She hated sleepovers honestly, but maybe it had more to do with her vendetta against anything that kept her sister away from her.

Sora made a noise of approval before going to the closet to grab shoes.

“Don’t go tonight.”  Raven said suddenly.  “Please? I have a bad feeling.”

“You’re such a worrier.”  Sora disregarded her, but that made Raven stiff.  They usually had these types of feelings together and her sister wasn’t denying or affirming it—which meant she couldn’t deny it because she would be lying.

“You know there’s something wrong tonight.”  The older accused.

“I can’t deny that I think something will happen.”  She agreed.  “But I am not going to let some magical gut feeling tell me when I can and cannot live my life.”

“Stay home tonight.” Raven followed her out the door of their shared bedroom and down the hall.

“Oh no, you don’t get to try that dominant nonsense on me.”  Her sister sang over her shoulder.  “You listen to everything dad says, but he’s not always right.  You can make decisions on your own.”

“I listen to him because you get us in trouble.”  Sora rolled her eyes and turned to her older sister with her hands on her hips and an eyebrow raised.  Raven mimicked the expression.  “The Poker incident.”

“We were six!” Sora groaned exasperated.  “And I couldn’t have gotten on him without your help.”

Poker had been their childhood pony.  He had recently passed away but was a gift from a friend of their parents’ that the twins had never personally met.  He was a dainty black Arabian pony with a quick stride and a school pony’s temper—moderate but not willing to deal with stupid.

“Yeah and I don’t think dad’s forgiven us yet.”  Raven muttered, but really she knew it would be her that he hadn’t forgiven if anyone.  She was oldest and she was a werewolf, less fragile than her sister.  If something had happened to Sora, Raven would have been responsible.

“You worry too much.”

“I worry about you.”  Raven shot back.

“Well stop.”  Sora crossed her arms.  “We aren’t six anymore and we aren’t galloping bareback on Poker through werewolf infested wolves during the worst season.”  The season where wolves from all over came to attempt the Change.  “You might be a werewolf but I’m not.  I’m just a plain eighteen year old girl.  I don’t need you being a serious downer on everything.”

“I’m not trying to be, I just have a really bad feeling about this.”  Raven whispered, pleading with her sister to see her side of the problem.

“Then come with me.”

Raven gave her a look and Sora sighed.

“I’m sorry,”  Her younger sister apologized.  “I know you don’t mean to flake.  If I’d realized it was a full moon, I would have said something.”  Raven didn’t mention that Liz, the girl hosting, had purposefully set the date.

“It’s fine.”  Raven took a deep breath.  “Go have fun.  You’re walking there?”  Her sister nodded.  “Just be careful.”

Sora left not long after with a backpack slung over her shoulder.  Raven sat and opted to patiently wait for her parents to return home for dinner.  She wasn’t entirely sure what her mother was doing, but knew her father was probably at the barn.  She should have gone to help him but was too worried to be around horses for the evening.

The girls were often alone or just with their mom after school.

“Sora on her way to the sleepover?”  Raven was sipping on hot cocoa when her mother walked through the door.  Anna tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and looked her daughter over.  “I’m sorry you couldn’t go.”

“It’s not your fault.”  Raven mumbled into her mug.  “Liz doesn’t like me anyways.”  

“Maybe Porsche could come visit sometime?” Anna offered.  Raven and Sora’s cousin was about a two years older and was the second born-werewolf, the first born-wolf being Raven’s own father, Charles Cornick. “She hasn’t been out here in a while.”

They had both mentored with Charles when Porsche was thirteen and Raven was eleven, but the older hadn’t stayed longer than a year before returning to Washington.  She had still come during breaks but hadn’t been around since the previous summer.  

“It’s not like I’m alone.”  Raven took another sip.  “What’s for dinner?”

Anna hesitated a moment before turning to the fridge and taking out meatballs and spaghetti she had made the night before.  Raven smiled a little and nodded.

“You need to smile more, you’ll turn out like your father.”  Anna joked and Raven snorted, but her smile widened nonetheless.

“Are we meeting dad out or is he coming home?”  

“Home.”  Anna informed her daughter just as they both heard the car coming down the road.

“Hey, dad.”  Raven called before he’d even opened the door.  When he entered he passed her, squeezing her shoulder for a moment before asking if any of them had heard from Sora.  

“She got there.”  Raven shrugged.  “Kathryn was picking her up from down the road.”

Anna and Charles shared a look but didn’t ask any questions of their daughter.  Both knew the sisters had an inexplicable ability to just know things about the other.  Some of it was just chalked up to them being twins, some of it was probably some sort of inherited ability from their father.

“I told her not to go.”  Raven looked at her father for help.  “I have a really bad feeling and she does, too.”  

Charles face fell into a deep frown as he seemed to think about Raven’s words. Anna looked between the both of them, concerned.   
“Call her after the hunt.  We’ll see if she’s ok.”  

A/N -

y’all want Anna and Charles as parents but I have to introduce a complicated backstory now… which means once I’m done w my current Ao3 fic this might be next.

The Poker incident. I think I might write a short snippet after all.  Originally it was just an illustration for mental image I had started but it might be fun to write out