#Familydrama

[matthew-macfadyen-gifs]

In My Father's Den (2004)

[redtoondevils]

Wade: "Hey Floyd! It's me Wade!" Floyd: "Who?" Wade: "Your cousin, Wade!" Floyd: "Who??" *Trevor kicks the front door wide open.* Trevor: "YOUR COUSIN!"

[apoeticsheep]

thanksgiving update

its been a wild dinner my friends

(disclaimer: this is a mean post. im posting mean on main. no hate asks pls, im the only one allowed to be mean)

there are 16 people in my house as previously stated

my aunt and my uncle’s (on the other side of the family) girlfriend’s daughter (so like seudo-cousin to me)  are beefing because the aunt brought a dog and the seudo cousin is allergic to dogs 

ophelia is locked away but albert gets free reign because my aunt bitched about it ( i dislike my aunt)

we got stuff for root beer floats and i had a root beer float and it was really shit. 3/10 wouldnt reccommend. worse than root beer and worse than vanilla ice cream

will reblog to add anything i forgot

[erijonarexhepis-blog]

ON WATTPAD

[ijustwantwhatiwantwheniwantit]

Okay so we moved in with my parents to save money and because the market is insane rn. Then it turned out my grandmother couldn’t be independent anymore so my parents moved her down and are living in a house locally with her. Me and my partner were left in charge of my parents house and take care of their dog and two cats.

Within a month of us having the house to ourselves, my brother decides to move back from GA to “save money for a house”

The problem is that he is so ADD (unmedicated) he leaves a trail of chaos everywhere he goes. He’s like Taz from looney tunes. When he cooks he uses every pot/pan/dish in the house then leaves them sit. Will leave food out so the cats get into it(the cats even smashed a casserole dish he left out.) He feeds the pets people food when I’ve worked so hard to get them to eat their own food. Doors get left open and unlocked when he leaves to go somewhere. Several times the back door was left open so the dog got outside but couldn’t get back in when it was 20 degrees out. I did NOT sign up to be my brothers handler.

Then his gf comes to visit with her crazy untrained dog. Our animals stay stressed when her dog is around. They won’t eat, the cats stay hidden, the cats have been have diarrhea because they’re so stressed out. If her dog is allowed to roam the house he has “accidents” on the carpet constantly. I have worked very hard to keep my parents house clean, not smelling like animals, and getting it organized. So much for that. Right before she came for the holidays my brother told me she quit her job now only does door dash. Great there is no hard fast deadline for her to leave now. She came the Wednesday before Christmas. First I was told she was leaving new years weekend, then I was told she was leaving today 1/2/23 but now she’s not going until tomorrow🤷🏼‍♀️ I asked my brother point blank if she was going to show up and never leave. He assured me she would never stay past her welcome. But here we are. My partner and I are back to work and so is my brother. She is still here. I’m going insane. She nice enough but I want my space and my routine back! The animals I am responsible for are constantly in a state of stress and I haven’t been able to 100% relax since she’s been here. How tf do I kick someone out without causing and international incident?!? Was legit in tears from stress at work when I found out the departure date changed again.

I swear when we eventually get our own place I’m never having guests over. Everyone who wants to visit will have to get a hotel. Fuck this shit! Any guest after she finally leaves will not be allowed to show up without prior approved check in and check out dates.

I just don’t understand why common courtesy is so often ignored or disregarded.

[ulkaralakbarova]

TIFF 2024: "The Courageous": Jasmin Gordon’s Debut Dares Us to Walk in Another’s Shoes

Still fro The Courageous ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Rating: 5 out of 5. Being a single parent is never easy, especially when there isn’t enough money to put food on the table. Some parents manage to navigate these challenges, but often, social services are needed to help create a sense of stability for the family. Unfortunately, this support doesn’t always come, particularly when the system chooses to separate…

[harmonyhealinghub]

The Vanished Bride Shaina Tranquilino September 16, 2024

The story of my mother’s disappearance had become the stuff of legend in our small town. She vanished on her wedding day, slipping away from the reception like a shadow, leaving behind a confused husband and a lifetime of questions. I was only a baby, cradled in her arms during the ceremony. For years, people whispered about her—some saying she’d run away, others that something more sinister had occurred.

Growing up, my father never spoke of her. The wedding photos were removed from the house, her belongings stored in dusty boxes in the attic. I was raised by my father and grandmother, two ghosts who pretended the past was a forgotten dream. But it wasn’t forgotten. Not by me.

On the day of my twenty-first birthday, I found the letters.

It was a stormy night, and the attic had always held a strange pull for me. My father was out of town on business, and the house was eerily quiet, save for the rain tapping against the windows. I climbed the creaky stairs and sifted through the old boxes until I found one with her name on it: Presley Beckford.

I hesitated before opening it. The scent of aged paper and lavender lingered in the air as I carefully pulled out an old bridal veil, brittle with age, and a stack of yellowed envelopes tied with a faded ribbon. They were addressed to my mother in handwriting I didn’t recognize, and each one was dated a week before her wedding day.

I untied the ribbon and began reading.

The first letter was brief: “My dearest Presley, I know you love him, but you cannot marry him. There are things you don’t understand, things that would ruin you if they came to light. Meet me at the old chapel before it’s too late.”

It was signed only with the initials J.H.

The letters that followed grew more frantic. Whoever J.H. was, they were desperate for her to call off the wedding, warning her of secrets hidden in my father’s past. He spoke of betrayals, of dangerous lies, of a promise broken long ago. I couldn’t reconcile the man in these letters with the father I’d known my whole life. But the final letter was the one that stopped my heart.

“Presley, If you go through with this, everything will fall apart. I have done everything I can to protect you, but I can no longer stay silent. I know you’ve kept our daughter’s birth a secret from him, but soon the truth will come out. Please meet me tonight at the chapel. This is our last chance to escape.”

I dropped the letter, my hands trembling. Our daughter? I was born before the wedding? My father wasn’t my father?

The pieces began to fit together in a sickening clarity. My mother hadn’t simply vanished on her wedding day—she had run. But not alone.

I rushed to the old chapel on the outskirts of town, my heart pounding. It had long been abandoned, overgrown with ivy and forgotten by time. I pushed open the heavy wooden doors, the scent of damp stone and decay filling the air.

There, in the flickering light of my flashlight, I found an inscription etched into the stone wall behind the altar: “Presley Beckford, 1972-1995. May you rest in peace.”

A chill ran through me. I knelt, brushing away the dirt, revealing a hidden compartment in the floor. Inside, I found a small box. Inside that box was a photo—my mother, standing beside a man who wasn’t my father. J.H., I realized. The letters had been from him, my real father.

I pieced together the truth that had been buried for so long. My mother had fled the wedding to be with the man she truly loved—the man she had already had me with. But something had gone wrong. Perhaps they had been caught. Perhaps my father, the man who had raised me, had discovered the truth.

And in that moment, I knew—she hadn’t just disappeared. She had been silenced.

The letters had led me here, to her final resting place, hidden in plain sight.

I left the chapel, the rain washing away my tears. The truth had been uncovered, but justice was still waiting.

I would make sure it found its way.

[worldwatcher3072]

They're eating our spaghetti!

[isloveworthdyingfor]

Trapped in the Storm

(Major Gabriel Steele) I sit at the desk, my fingers hesitated over the keyboard, each tap echoing weakly amidst the storm brewing inside me. The lesson schedule on the screen taunted me with its neat organization, starkly contrasting my current state of chaos.

“Focus, Steele,” I muttered, desperate to cut through the confusion clouding my mind. But it was futile. Unanswerable questions swirled relentlessly within me, gnawing at my insides like relentless pests. How did Lilith track me to lunch? The thought pierced me like a splinter, impossible to ignore. And my son—my heart constricted—where was he really?

Exhaling slowly, I attempted to calm the tremors of uncertainty shaking me from within. Forcing down an urge to slam shut the laptop and rush into action, my temples throbbed with my racing heart. With a sudden surge of instinct, I minimized the lesson schedule, focusing instead on the bank icon.

I double-clicked into our shared financial portal. Thoughts of our separate accounts gnawed at me; a system born from chaos to rein in Lilith’s impulsive tendencies now felt like a flimsy defense against her unpredictable nature.

The debit card she possessed now loomed menacingly in my mind. Years of arguments and concealed truths had sown seeds of doubt that bloomed into whole suspicion.

“Should have known better,” I muttered, regret dripping from each word. As the login page stared back at me expectantly, I entered my credentials with a heavy heart.

Each letter clicked into place mechanically, the soft sound of the enter key echoing in the room. The screen lit up, casting shadows that seemed to swallow my hopes whole, fears materializing before my eyes.

The numbers on the screen stood out starkly against the bright background, delivering a harsh reality that crashed down on me with icy finality. Leaning in closer, I willed the digits representing my dwindling account balance to change through sheer proximity. But they remained unmoved, staring back at me unflinchingly, sending a chill crawling up my spine.

Panic began its suffocating grip around my throat, tightening with each frantic heartbeat. “Please, no,” I pleaded in a whisper to the empty room, my voice barely audible above the hum of the computer.

My trembling finger traced down the list of transactions. It caught: an anomaly so glaring that I doubted my own vision for a moment. Clicking on the transaction details confirmed my worst fears with brutal clarity. It wasn’t just one ticket but multiple fares purchased without warning or discussion.

“Damn it, Lilith,” I cursed under my breath, anger and fear intertwining in a knot in my stomach. They were leaving—she was taking my son away.

My fingers turned to ice, a hesitant pause frozen in time, as I slammed the laptop shut. The sharp sound reverberated through my small office, matching the frantic beat of my heart. Without a second thought, I leaped to my feet, grabbing my keys from the desk. The metallic clink of the keys was drowned out by the rush of blood pounding in my ears.

As I sprinted down the corridor, everything blurred into streaks of gray and harsh fluorescent light. Each step was accompanied by a silent chant, urging me to hurry. At the same time, a lingering sense of caution whispered at the edges of my consciousness.

I burst into the open air, greeted by the sprawling parking lot that seemed like an endless sea of concrete. My truck stood out like a beacon amidst the chaos. Fumbling with the keys, I unlocked the door.

Ignition. Engine roaring to life. Shift to reverse. Each action flowed seamlessly into the next in a desperate flurry. The tires protested with a screech as I pulled out onto the street. Buildings and trees rushed past me in a blur, their normalcy contrasting with the turmoil inside me.

“Focus,” I commanded myself, hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly it felt like it might break under pressure. Every fiber of my being urged me to push harder on the accelerator, to defy all speed and time limits. Yet, a sliver of rationality held me back with visions of twisted metal and blaring sirens—consequences that could only impede or, worse still, prevent me from reaching Lilith and my son.

Balancing between urgency and control, I pushed my truck enough to feel its strain without losing command. The condo loomed closer on the horizon, its walls holding either salvation or ruin for me within them. My knuckles whitened further as I willed every inch closer beneath my wheels; each passing second felt like an eternity while every breath silently begged for them still to be there when I arrived.

The world outside blurred into a streak of colors as I navigated the streets with a reckless precision born out of desperation. The once familiar route to our street now felt like a track on a battleground, each second stretching out before me as I closed in on the destiny that awaited at home.

As the condo appeared on the horizon, everything inside me urged me to storm the front line and rush in without thought or care. With a forceful stomp, I jammed the brakes down hard, evoking a symphony of screeching tires that echoed my inner turmoil.

I couldn’t just pull into the driveway—not when it could mean tipping off Lilith. Instead, I steered the truck into a space several doors away, positioning it so the condo’s entrance remained within sight. From here, I could survey the neighborhood without making my presence known.

I leaned forward, eyes fixed on the door that held back the unfolding drama from spilling into the street. My hands clenched the wheel, every muscle coiled tight. Five agonizing minutes ticked by, marked only by the rhythm of my erratic breaths and the relentless pounding in my chest.

In the driveway, the Ford stood immobile, a metal carcass bearing the scars of our discord. My gaze remained locked onto the front door, waiting for a sign, any indication of movement.

Suddenly, it was pierced by a flash of red. Time seemed to slow, each moment stretching into the next as an unfamiliar Nissan slid into view and parked behind the Ford. I watched Amelia emerge from the driver’s side, her movements fluid and unaware of the chaos she was walking into.

My heart seized as Lilith stepped out of the condo, the door closing with a sound that reverberated in my chest. Cain followed, his face sullen, a shadow of the joyous child he once was. And Sammy... Sammy’s eyes were wide, scanning the world with a bewilderment that knifed through me. They didn’t understand. No child should ever have to.

The pulse in my veins beat a fierce rhythm, urging me onward. This wasn’t about niceties or etiquette; this was raw survival. As adrenaline surged, it washed away hesitation, doubt, and reason. My hands moved of their own accord, shifting the truck into gear while my mind barely registered the action.

The truck lurched forward, propelled by a desperate energy beyond thought and fear. Tires squealed against the asphalt, a cacophony that drowned out all else as I maneuvered the vehicle to block the Nissan’s exit.

I slammed on the brakes, and the truck shuddered to a stop, its front end mere inches from the other car. I threw the door open, every sense heightened to a razor’s edge. My breath came in ragged gasps, each tasting the impending void if I couldn’t stop them.

Lilith’s voice shattered the mid-morning calm, her words a serrated blade that cut through the chaos. “RUN, RUN, RUN!” The urgency in her tone was a physical force that set my heart to pounding.

I watched, powerless, as the boys turned on their heels, Sammy’s small face contorted in fear and Cain’s eyes brimming with unshed tears. They stumbled over each other in their haste, small hands fumbling with the door handle as they disappeared into the safety of the condo.

The world narrowed to the gap shrinking between the door and its frame. My body moved on pure, unchecked instinct, hurtling towards that closing sliver of space. I thrust my foot forward, wedging it between the door and the jamb, steeling myself for impact.

An explosion of pain detonated in my ankle. It surged up my leg like wildfire, igniting every nerve ending with white-hot agony. A guttural roar tore from my lungs, a primal sound that seemed foreign to my ears.

In a brief moment, the door cracked open, and Lilith’s eyes met mine—wild, resolute, a storm of emotions swirling within. She pulled back with a force born of desperation, her lips curling around a curse lost in our conflict’s maelstrom; she slammed the door once more, my foot still trapped and throbbing.

With each hammering strike against the unyielding door, fresh waves of pain ricocheted up my leg. The agony in my trapped foot was a relentless torment, grinding bone and sinew together in a cruel symphony. I clenched my jaw, the taste of iron sharp on my tongue as I fought to reel in the battered appendage. Muted whimpers slipped through my gritted teeth while I painstakingly withdrew my foot.

Fueled by desperation, I reared back and hurled my whole weight into a shoulder charge, the force splintering the wood in protest. But the momentum betrayed me, throwing me off balance and sending tremors of shock through my already beleaguered body. With a resounding crash, the door rebounded, sealing shut with a finality that echoed in my chest.

Outside, the world seemed to shrink to the space between myself and the barrier that held my life hostage. A cacophony of terror-stricken screams from within clashed with the pounding of my fists upon the door, the sound of a brutal rhythm in the quiet street. “Open up! Don’t you dare take them!” My voice broke through the din, raw and savage, the words etched with the ferocity of paternal instinct and the weight of betrayal.

A scraping, grinding noise clawed its way through the splintered remains of the entrance—a sound not of destruction but of deliberate obstruction. Furniture skidded across the hardwood floor, each screech and bump a clear sign that Lilith was fortifying her fortress, barricading herself and the boys away from me.

“Go away, or I’m calling the police!” The words were muffled, her voice edged with the kind of resolve that comes from being pushed to the precipice.

“Call them then!” I bellowed back, the words erupting from deep within my chest. “You can’t just take my son and lock me out of my own home!”

For a fleeting second, there was silence—a taut, stretched moment that seemed to suspend everything, even as my heart thundered against my ribcage. A semblance of calm settled over me, a strategy beginning to form. I could call them, explain, get them here to—

A glance to my side stole the breath from my lungs. Amelia stood by her car, a statue carved from shock and disbelief. Her wide eyes flitted between the house and me, her body rigid with the tension of witnessing a scene far removed from the normalcy of her everyday life.

Seeing her rooted there, an innocent caught in the crossfire, sent me a fresh wave of panic. In her gaze, I saw more than just surprise; I saw the dawning realization of the magnitude of the situation she’d stumbled into. The potential fallout for her, for me, loomed large, casting a long shadow over the already dark tableau.

As I stood there, my foot pulsing with every heartbeat, the reality bore down on me with the weight of a falling skyscraper. Amelia’s presence had shifted the stakes, transforming a private family dispute into a public spectacle. The gym community was tight-knit; this debacle would spread faster than a brushfire in a dry season, blackening my name and turning clients against me.

My hand twitched at my side. Amelia, an innocent bystander now embroiled in this domestic quagmire. She was a client, and a personal touch was everything in our business. The trust built on hours of shared effort and encouragement could crumble in an instant under the weight of scandal.

I limped toward Amelia, the sharp stabs of pain from my foot punctuating every step. The day’s rays of sunlight cast a golden hue over her face, highlighting the confusion and concern etched into her features. I raised my hands, palms out, in a gesture of peace.

“I’m truly sorry you got dragged into this mess,” I croaked, my voice strained not just from the shouting but also the weight of regret bearing down on me.

Amelia blinked rapidly, her breath hitching as she fought to compose herself. “No, no, I’m the one who’s sorry,” she managed to say, her voice trembling like a leaf caught in a tempest. “When Lilith asked for a ride to the airport, I... I didn’t know...” Her words trailed off, lost in a choked sob.

The sight of her distress twisted something inside me—a mixture of guilt for the scene I’d caused and gratitude for the innocence in her apology. Clearly, she had been an unwitting pawn in Lilith’s game. With each shallow breath, Amelia seemed to shrink smaller, like trying to fold into herself and disappear from the chaos we had created.

“Amelia,” I said, my voice steady as clarity seeped through the turmoil in my mind. “No. Don’t apologize. You need to get out of here.” The words spilled out softer, slower as if I were talking her down from a ledge only she could see.

She looked at me momentarily, her expression painted with quiet disbelief as if waiting for the next gust to hit. But slowly, the tension in her shoulders eased, and a hesitant relief replaced the fear that had previously gripped her. The raw panic that had etched lines into her youthful face seemed to smooth out with every passing second.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely rising above the rustling leaves around us. A tentative smile, fragile as a soap bubble in the wind, tugged at the corner of her lips.

I gave a silent nod, my unspoken vow to resolve things and the weight of regret palpable between us. I climbed back into the driver’s seat of my truck. The door closed with a definitive thud. The engine purred to life with a deep rumble, almost teasing my hesitation.

Amelia’s taillights faded down the street as I sat for a moment, stewing in the silence of my vehicle—a solitary bubble amidst the chaos of my unraveling life.

“Shit,” the word slithered out through clenched teeth, venomous and defeated. My hand darted to the clock on the dashboard, digits glaring back at me in neon accusation. Twenty-eight minutes. That was all I had left before I was due to stand in front of a class—a room full of eyes expecting stability and strength from a man who currently possessed neither.

With a resigned grunt, I wrenched the gearstick forward and felt the truck lurch beneath me.

The weight of my phone in my hand was an anchor, pulling me back to a semblance of reality. My thumb hovered over the screen before it plunged down with the determination of a man grasping at straws. Each letter I typed on the digital keyboard was a desperate plea, command, and, ultimately, a father’s last resort.

“Me: This text serves as my formal notification that you, Lilith, do not have my permission to take Sammy out of state until further notice.”

Sent.

I tossed the phone onto the passenger seat, feeling the finality of those words settle into the cab like a dense fog.

The night stretched endlessly as I pushed through each class, my muscles burning. As I drove back to the condo, exhaustion weighing heavy on my eyelids, the dim glow of streetlights flickered past. The dashboard cast shifting shadows in the truck, a dance of light and dark that mirrored the fatigue tugging at my mind. With each passing mile, the worry in my gut coiled tighter, a relentless knot fueled by the uncertainty of what awaited me.

My phone lay inert beside me, a silent companion through the long night’s journey. Time seemed to warp and twist in that quiet solitude, elongating with each heartbeat.

Finally, just as I pulled into the driveway, a chime shattered the silence like glass breaking. The notification on my phone illuminated the interior with an eerie glow. A moment of hesitation gripped me as I stared at the screen, torn between anticipation and dread.

“Lilith: You wanted to be by yourself. You wanted space. You didn’t want to be accountable to anyone, so now you have your freedom. I wasn’t ok with you continuing your communication with Nicholette. Not in the least. Why should I respect your wishes if you can’t respect mine?”

The message sliced through me like a blade, igniting a fiery storm of anger within. As her venomous words echoed in my mind, the cab seemed to shrink, suffocating me with its oppressive presence. My gaze bore into the screen, flames of fury flickering in my eyes, scorching any lingering doubts. The silence that followed pulsated with my seething rage, filling the space with an intensity that crackled like lightning on the verge of striking.

[seriesmagicx]

Good Witch Staffel 5: Zauberhafte Momente und Tiefe Emotionen

Die 5. Staffel von "Good Witch" nimmt uns erneut mit auf eine magische Reise durch das charmante Städtchen Middleton. Diese Staffel ist voller neuer Abenteuer, romantischer Höhenflüge und mystischer Momente, die das Herz jedes Zuschauers höher schlagen lassen.

Cassie Nightingale, die wohlwollende und weise Hexe von Middleton, steht weiterhin im Mittelpunkt der Serie. Ihre tiefe Verbindung zu Dr. Sam Radford wird auf vielfältige Weise beleuchtet, und ihre Beziehung wächst und gedeiht trotz aller Herausforderungen. Cassies Weisheit und Sams pragmatischer Ansatz ergänzen sich perfekt und schaffen viele unvergessliche Szenen.

In dieser Staffel sehen wir auch eine bedeutende Entwicklung von Abigail Pershing, Cassies Cousine. Abigail, die für ihre starke und manchmal sture Persönlichkeit bekannt ist, zeigt neue Facetten und vertieft ihre Beziehungen zu den anderen Bewohnern von Middleton. Ihre eigene Suche nach Liebe und Akzeptanz bringt frischen Wind in die Handlung.

Die magischen Elemente sind wie immer präsent und verleihen der Serie ihre einzigartige Note. Mystische Ereignisse und magische Geheimnisse sind reichlich vorhanden, und Grey House bleibt das Zentrum dieser Zauberei. Dieses historische Bed & Breakfast ist nicht nur Cassies Zuhause, sondern auch ein Ort, an dem sich viele der faszinierenden Geschichten entfalten.

Die Einführung neuer Charaktere und die Rückkehr vertrauter Gesichter bringen neue Dynamiken und Herausforderungen mit sich. Diese neuen Figuren fügen der Serie zusätzliche Tiefe hinzu und bieten den bestehenden Charakteren neue Wege der Interaktion und Entwicklung.

Warum du die 5. Staffel sehen solltest:

1. Tiefe Charakterentwicklung: Die Hauptfiguren wachsen weiter und zeigen neue Facetten ihrer Persönlichkeit.

2. Romantische Erzählungen: Die Beziehungen sind intensiv und bewegend, perfekt für alle Romantikliebhaber.

3. Magische Momente: Die Magie ist subtil und dennoch allgegenwärtig, was der Serie ihre besondere Atmosphäre verleiht.

4. Neue Dynamiken: Neue Charaktere und Handlungsstränge sorgen für frischen Wind und spannende Wendungen.

5. Thematische Tiefe: Die Serie behandelt Themen wie Familie, Freundschaft und persönliche Entwicklung auf eine tiefgründige Weise.

Wenn du eine Serie suchst, die dich in eine Welt voller Magie, Liebe und emotionaler Tiefe entführt, dann ist die 5. Staffel von "Good Witch" genau das Richtige für dich. Lass dich von den Abenteuern in Middleton verzaubern und erlebe die Magie hautnah!

Good Witch - Staffel 5

[haveacupofjohanny]

Friday Feature: Celebrating Celeste Ng – Master of Complex Characters and Human Drama

🔥 Friday Feature Alert! 🔥 Discover the brilliance of Celeste Ng, author of Little Fires Everywhere and Everything I Never Told You. Her complex characters and layered stories are a must-read! Check out the feature on www.haveacupofjohanny.com #booklover

Photo Credit: Kieran Kesner I’m excited to feature Celeste Ng in this week’s Friday Feature. Celeste Ng is a powerhouse in the literary world, renowned for her ability to craft stories with characters as complex and layered as real-life humans. Like Naima Coster, Celeste’s work resonates deeply with me, as she delves into the intricate dramas that arise from human relationships. Her storytelling…

[sweettalkertime]

King of Pride by Ana Huang

Summary: (Per Author) Reserved. Controlled. Proper. Kai Young has no time for chaos. Especially with the CEO vote looming over his head for his families company. Bold. Impulsive. Full of Life. Isabella Valencia, the purple haired girl filled with inappropriate jokes. The girl that isn’t suppose to fraternize with members of the club she works at. But who can deny temptation? My Thoughts:…

[noobiestnoober]

Blood Ties and Petty Fights

The story portrays a familial squabble among the Salvatore siblings—Damon, Stefan, and Y/N Salvatore. The conflict begins with Y/N making a light-hearted joke about Stefan's private poetry, leading to a tense exchange. I hope you enjoy the story <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The old Salvatore Boarding House stood tall and imposing, its grand architecture casting long shadows in the moonlight. Inside, the atmosphere was anything but serene. Y/N Salvatore, the youngest of the vampire siblings, found herself caught in yet another ridiculous squabble with her brothers, Damon and Stefan.

It all started in the parlor, where the siblings were gathered after a long day. Damon lounged on the couch, flipping through a vintage magazine, while Stefan was meticulously organizing a stack of old family documents. The scent of aged wood and a faint trace of musty paper filled the room, mixed with the smoky aroma from the crackling fire. Y/N, feeling a bit mischievous, decided to lighten the mood with a joke.

"Hey, Stefan," she called out, trying to stifle a grin, "Remember that time you tried to impress Elena with your poetry, and she thought you were quoting Shakespeare?"

Stefan looked up, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, "Yeah, I remember. What about it?"

"Well…" Y/N continued, "I found this old poem you wrote. Thought I might read it at the next Mystic Falls gathering. You know, give everyone a good laugh."

Damon snickered, clearly entertained by the idea. But Stefan's expression darkened instantly. He stood up, his posture rigid.

"Y/N, that's not funny," he said sharply, "Those poems are private. They mean a lot to me."

Y/N's smile faded, realizing she had hit a nerve, "I was just joking, Stefan. I didn't mean anything by it."

Stefan clenched his fists, his eyes filled with a mixture of hurt and anger, "You knew how much this meant to me, Y/N. It's not just a joke."

Damon, sensing the tension escalating, decided to intervene, "Oh, come on, Stefan. It's just a poem. Lighten up a bit."

Y/N stood there, tears glistening in her eyes as she faced her brothers, "I would never do that to you," she said, her voice quivering.

Stefan ran a hand through his tousled hair, "You knew how much this meant to me, Y/N. It's not just a joke."

"It's always about you, isn't it, Stefan?" Damon interjected, pushing himself off the couch, "Y/N makes one little joke, and suddenly it's the end of the world."

"Stay out of this, Damon," Stefan snapped, "This isn't your fight."

"Oh, but it is," Damon retorted, stepping closer to Stefan, "We're family, remember? We fight, we make up, and we move on. You're just being melodramatic."

Y/N wiped her tears away, feeling a mix of frustration and guilt, "I didn't mean to hurt you, Stefan. I thought you would laugh."

Stefan finally turned around, his eyes softening as he looked at his sister, "I know you didn't mean it, Y/N. But sometimes... it just feels like you don't take anything seriously."

Damon groaned loudly, "Great, here we go with the Stefan pity party."

Y/N took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves, "I do take things seriously, Stefan. But sometimes, we need to laugh, especially with everything we've been through."

Stefan's shoulders slumped slightly, "I suppose you're right. It's just... it's hard sometimes."

Damon clapped his hands together, "Finally, some progress. Can we all agree that this is a ridiculous argument and move on?"

Y/N nodded, stepping forward to hug Stefan, "I'm sorry, Stefan. I promise I'll be more careful with my jokes."

Stefan hugged her back, a small smile breaking through his somber expression, "And I'll try not to overreact. We're family, after all."

Damon joined the hug, wrapping an arm around both of them, "Group hug! Look at us, being all emotional and stuff."

Y/N laughed, feeling the tension lift, "You always know how to ruin a moment, Damon."

"That's what I'm here for," Damon replied with a wink.

As the three siblings stood there, embracing and laughing, the house seemed a little less imposing, and the night a little less dark.

_______________________________________________________

Later that evening, as the siblings sat together in the parlor, sipping on glasses of blood-laced wine, they reflected on the day's events.

"You know…" Y/N said thoughtfully, "We've been through so much together. Sometimes I forget how important the little things can be.”

Stefan nodded, "It's easy to forget, especially with everything we've seen and done. But we have to remember to appreciate each other, even when we disagree."

Damon raised his glass in a mock toast, "To family. The good, the bad, and the ridiculously dramatic."

They clinked their glasses together, laughter filling the room. And as the night wore on, the Salvatore siblings found comfort in each other's company, knowing that no matter what, they would always have each other.

[erijonarexhepis-blog]

STAY

SEASON SIX, EPISODE FIFTEEN

Masterlist

THEY WERE IN THE COURTROOM again, and this time it was Jorge who had taken the stand. "Mr. Castillo, during the times that you were speaking with your daughter, Laurel, how would you categorize your relationship with her?" Lennox asked.

"Troubled."

"Why?"

"Did you ever catch your daughter lying to you?"

"Of course," Jorge answered. "When she was 14, she lied about using cocaine—"

"Behavior while a minor is improper character evidence, judge," Annalise interrupted him.

"Sustained," the judge said.

"Let's, um, move on to governor Birkhead," Lennox continued. "Mr. Castillo, have you ever met or spoken with the governor?"

"No."

"Have you ever contacted the governor or anyone associated with her to enact ill will against Ms. Keating?"

"Absolutely not."

"And do you believe any of the allegations that say the governor was involved in your son Xavier's death?"

"No."

"Why?"

"I've made a lot of money in my life— enemies too— so I can think of a long list of people who would have wanted to see my son dead."

Lennox kept glancing over at Annalise. "Mr. Castillo, one of the theories Ms. Keating has put forth is that the FBI is part of this conspiracy against her. Have you been in contact with the FBI about this?"

"No. The FBI's who put me in jail." So, he was still mad about that. "Based on misinformation from an informant. That's her sitting right behind Ms. Keating." Jorge pointed.

Annalise stood. "Objection!"

Jorge turned to the jury. "Those two women are conspiring against me."

"Mr. Castillo, don't address the gallery," the judge told him sternly. "I'm censuring the witness. Jury, disregard the last part of this testimony. Mr. Lennox, meet me in my chambers. Adjourned."

FLASH FORWARD

Shots were fired outside the courthouse. People, who were standing on the steps outside the building, started running and screaming in fear and panic. Some fell and stayed, hoping they wouldn't be hit. They were terrified.

The officers inside the building took action. They grabbed their weapons and ran down the hall to catch whoever was shooting before they killed someone. They ran past Annalise's mother, who was in distress. She hadn't seen Annalise and was worried. Her other daughter was holding her back.

"Is my baby hurt?!" She cried out. "Please tell me! Is she hurt?!"

Someone had been shot. Tegan looked down at this person in terror. How could this happen?

꧁   ꧂

"THANK YOU FOR BEING here, governor," Lennox said.

The governor had taken the stand. "You say that like I have a choice."

"Well, let's not keep you too long, then. Did you order the death of Nathaniel Lahey Sr.?"

"No."

"Do you know if Xavier Castillo ordered the death?"

"Yes, because that guard named him during the civil suit."

"Did you know Xavier Castillo?"

"No, nor have I ever met or spoken to him."

"Do you know his father, Jorge?"

"No."

"Governor, did you ever coordinate with any member of the Castillo family or the FBI to exact revenge on Ms. Keating for defeating you in a Supreme Court case?"

"No." She couldn't even look at Annalise.

"You weren't protecting your re-election?"

"No, because I plan to win my election by convincing the public I'm the best person for the job. The way not to do that is to commit a series of violent murders. That's more Ms. Keating's fallback."

Annalise stood. "Objection. Censure the witness."

"Governor," the judge scolded her.

"My apologies."

"No further questions," Lennox stated.

"Governor, when I beat you at the Supreme Court with my class action, were you upset?"

"More disappointed," the governor answered.

"Because of the damage to your political career?"

"To the taxpayer. Your victory cost the state millions."

"Money well spent if it saved thousands of poor people from unjust convictions."

"Argumentative," Lennox stated. He seemed calm.

"This speaks to the defense's theory of motive," Annalise protested.

"Sustained."

"Do you know Xavier Castillo?"

"As I stated earlier, no."

"What about Hannah Keating?"

The governor paused for a brief second. "I don't know who that is."

"She's my deceased husband's sister, Hannah. You don't know her?"

"I do not."

Annalise went over to her table. "And yet, Hannah Keating recorded herself on a phone call to Xavier Castillo saying this."

She played the recording. "I just saw the governor on tv saying Nate Lahey Sr. died."

"He did die."

"Because the governor killed him?"

Lennox stood up, not wanting to listen to more of it. "Objection. We can't authenticate this recording."

"I wish Hannah Keating were here to speak to its authenticity, but she just died." Annalise looked at the governor. "Gunshot to the head."

"Your honor."

The judge made a decision. "Falls under the death exception. I'll allow it."

Annalise hit record again. "I just saw the governor on tv saying Nate Lahey Sr. died," they heard Hannah's voice once again.

"He did die."

"Because the governor killed him?"

"Calm down."

"I wanted Annalise to go down for my brother, not hurt all these other people."

"I'm hanging up." The recording stopped.

"If you didn't know Hannah Keating or Xavier Castillo, why are they speaking so intimately about you?" Annalise approached the governor again.

The governor shook her head. "I have no idea."

"What about Nate Lahey Sr.? Did you do what Hannah said and kill him?"

"Absolutely not."

"So, if Xavier and Hannah were alive to testify, they would say the same thing?"

"Objection," Lennox spoke up but was ignored.

"Did you have them killed to cover up your lies?"

"No! My god."

The judge cut in and stopped the questioning. "I'm ending this cross!"

"Good," Annalise stated. "I'm done with this witness."

꧁   ꧂

NATE TOOK THE STAND THE next day, and he would be the last to do so. "Mr. Lahey, were you involved in any way at all with the death of Sam Keating?"

"No."

"You were arrested and almost charged for his murder, though. Why?"

"I was the boyfriend. That's always the first suspect."

Lennox nodded. "Any other reason?"

Nate looked over at Annalise. "I was framed."

"Who do you believe framed you, Mr. Lahey?"

"At the time, I thought Annalise."

"Did you ever get confirmation of this?"

"No. 'Cause she wasn't the one who framed me."

Lennox glanced over at Annalise for a brief moment. He took a step closer to Nate. "You mean she had an associate do it for her?"

"I mean, she didn't do it. That was Hannah Keating. She wanted to connect Annalise to Sam's murder, and now it's very clear to me how Hannah did it— by using the Castillos and the governor."

"Let me stop you, Mr. Lahey. Did Ms. Keating coerce you to change your testimony today?"

"No. That was you and special agent Lanford when you offered me twenty million dollars to say what you want. I'm just guessing that's so I don't tell the jury that an FBI agent working for the Castillo's murdered Asher Millstone."

꧁   ꧂

THE LAST DAY OF THE TRIAL started the following morning. It was time for the closing arguments. Lennox went first. "Forget everyone else. The Castillos, the governor, the supposed conspiracy. That is all noise to distract you from the person who brought us here— Annalise Keating. She wants to play the victim, and she is good at it too. But you know the real victims."

Lennox showed the pictures of the people as mentioned them. "Asher Millstone. DA Ronald Miller. ADA Emily Sinclair. Rebecca Sutter. Sam Keating. It all started with this man. That is the original sin. You start there. Then there's no doubt that Annalise Keating is not a victim. She's a murderer."

"I'm no victim," Annalise started. "USA Lennox was right about that. But that's the only true thing that he said today. So, here's the truth about me. I've worn a mask every day of my life. In high school, it was a smile that I faked to get boys to like me. In law school, I changed my name to sound more New England. At the law firm, I wore heels, makeup, and a wig. And when I got married, I... threw myself into becoming a Keating, and it was all to create a version of myself that the world could accept. But I'm done."

"Instead, I stand before you, mask off, to tell you the god's honest. I have done many a bad thing. I've coerced witnesses, got clients to lie on the stand, bullied students to tears, manipulated jurors like you. But those are not the crimes I'm being tried for. It's murder. And I am no murderer."

"What I am is a survivor. I survived getting taunted by the n-word when I was in grade school. I survived the sexual abuse by my uncle when I was 11. I survived losing my first love, Eve, because I was scared to be gay. Then the death of my son in a car accident, the murder of my husband, then alcoholism, depression, grief, and every death leading up to this trial."

"But today, you decide. Am I a bad person? Well, the mask is off, so I'm going to say yes. But am I the mastermind criminal who pulled off a series of violent murders? Hell no."

"Who I am is a 53-year-old woman from Memphis, Tennessee, named Anna Mae Harkness. I'm ambitious, black, bisexual, angry, sad, strong, sensitive, scared, fierce, talented, exhausted."

Annalise let out a shaky breath. She glanced from one juror to the other. She said everything she needed to say and moved almost every person in the room.

"And I am at your mercy."

April was sitting between Laurel and Connor— with Michaela on his side. The jurors had made a decision, and they were anxiously waiting to hear what they had decided for Annalise.

"Ms. Foreperson, I've been told you've reached a verdict."

"Yes, your honor," the juror responded. Some papers got passed on to the judge. The tension in the room was thick. Laurel was gripping April's hand. They had no idea how this was going to end.

The judge looked through the stack of papers as the people in the room waited anxiously. "Please stand."

Annalise and Lennox both stood. "For the charge of conspiracy to murder Sam Keating in count one of the indictment, the jury finds the defendant Annalise Keating..." she paused for a while before revealing it. "Not guilty."

When those words left her mouth, April breathed relief, as did the people sitting behind Annalise. But it was not over yet. "For murder in the first degree of Rebecca Sutter, the jury finds the defendant not guilty. For the murder in the first degree of Asher Millstone, the jury finds the defendant not guilty."

Laurel leaned back in relief, tears threatening to escape. Connor and Oliver had a somewhat similar reaction. April couldn't help but smile, her eyes watering. It was over.

Michaela, on the other hand, was not as happy. 

"For murder in the first degree of Emily Sinclair, the jury finds the defendant not guilty. For the murder in the first degree of Ronald Miller, the jury finds the defendant not guilty. For murder in the first degree of Caleb Hapstall, the jury finds the defendant not guilty."

April looked over at her professor, who was hugging her family members. They were happy. Annalise wasn't going down for something she didn't do. And that was when April knew she had done the right thing.

The judge read the rest of the charges; not guilty. Those were the words that kept repeating themselves. Annalise was free. It was over. And she was enjoying the moment with the people closest to her.

Her students stood in the hall sometime later. Connor and Oliver didn't know how to feel, but they didn't have to wonder much longer.

April turned to her friends— her family. She just looked at them and took in the moment. It was over. It was finally over.

They could go back to when they worried about silly things, not murder. Their lives could go back to normal— somewhat normal.

But not for April.

She was ready. She knew it was the right thing, but she hadn't told anyone.

Her friends watched the two police officers approach them, and they were confused. Especially when they cuffed April. There was a lot she hid from them.

They questioned the officers— asked them why they were taking their friend away. What did April do? She told them she got probation.

April looked at her friends as the officers put the cuffs on. "I lied," she shrugged. "I'm the one who takes care of you. So that's what I'm doing."

They looked back at her with tears in their eyes. They were also confused and panicked. "I'm going to be fine. Fifteen years is not that much. Take care of yourselves."

"No, you can't do this!" Connor yelled at the police officer when they dragged her away. He was the most affected by this.

"Connor," Oliver pulled him back. He was crying too. Michaela reached out in an attempt to comfort him, but Oliver pushed her hand away. "You don't get to do that after everything."

"Oliver—"

"You betrayed everyone," Oliver cut her off harshly. Michaela was taken aback. She didn't have anything to say. She knew what she had done. She decided to walk away, no matter how much it hurt.

"Let's leave," Laurel spoke. She turned her stroller. And the three made their way to the exit. For a moment, they had enjoyed that feeling of happiness and relief. They hadn't felt that in a long time.

April gave up information and her freedom for her friends. She considered them family. She had lost her father, and her mother was being rearrested; that was a part of the deal she made.

As she was taken away, she thought about her friends and where they would end up. Annalise was free, and her friends were leaving. They were all going to start fresh.

April was unaware of the shooting outside the courthouse as it happened. As fast as that happiness appeared, it was gone. They were gone. It was over.

It was finally over.

She would be alone in prison, but that was how it had always been. Alone. But she took comfort in knowing her family would be okay.

No more worrying about people going after them or who killed who. It was over. It was finally over.

[zenwavevibes]

Horrifying Family Secrets The Dark Truth Uncovered 1 - ZenWaveVibes : R...

I have to tell you something What's the matter baby I promised I wasn't going to say anything but I know that if I don't something really bad is going to happen Is this about mom I know you don't want to do this J.S I don't want to leave here alone You're better than this He deserves to die This is not for you to decide You've got to think about your family I think about my family every day

[sylviahubbard]

Indulge in the forbidden pleasures of 'The Convenient,' where family secrets and smoldering attraction collide. #NewRelease By Author, Sylvia Hubbard #steamyromance #intrigue

Charone’s magnetic confidence draws Axel into a torrid dance of desire. As their hearts entwine, they discover that true love knows no bounds. More About this book | Buy Direct from Author | Other books by author