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all of this stuff goes from oldest to newest so my older work is up top and newer work is below everything. I'm gonna put all my writing stuff up around here, and my personal stuff {quotes, dreams, vent} far below.

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“Do you think me a fool, Alana?” He circled her slowly, the sharp scent of blood hidden under a musky cologne. “Do you think me some blithering idiot, a coward, ready to step aside as soon as someone challenges my throne?

The young witch shook in her heeled boots, her terror reflected in his piercing golden gaze. “N-no, sir, I just don’t think it is necessary -”
“SILENCE!”
She clapped her hands to her ears, her shoulders hunching.
His lip curled at the open display of weakness.

“My son is in danger. What would you do if your child, your blood, your DNA, your everything was at risk?”
“I - I cannot imagine the pain, m'lord, I -”
“Exactly. So you are not in the position to act like my advisor.”
His voice was thunder, deep and rumbling, full of scorn and bottled anger.
“Go. We will start the plan tomorrow.”

Alana scampered into the night immediately, and Wren finally let his weakness show, sinking to the ground and putting his head in his hands.

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Damian Parker came sprinting down the halls, his satchel bouncing against his leg as he ran, but he paid it no mind.
'Gonna be late gonna be late gonnabelate I can't be late!'
He skidded to a squeaky halt in front of the old oak door and promptly slammed into the classroom, startling the young Professor and most of his classmates.
"I...was never....late," he panted, bending over with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath.

Professor Giselle lightly patted him on the back, then let out a long-suffering sigh. "Just because you are a prince does not give you the right to be -" she checked her watch, sighing again, "twenty minutes late! See me after class for your punishment, young man."
"But I -"
"Sit!"

The young man slumped, a pout casting over his handsome features as he reluctantly tramped down the aisle and collapsed into his seat next to his best friend, Raina.
"Bit -"

"Get out your notebooks, kiddos, we're doing Chemistry today!" The Professor let out a delighted laugh, scribbling out the lesson plan on the chalkboard as a collective groan came up from the other students. Raina cast a sly glance towards Damian, smirking evilly.

'UGH.'

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I had an interesting shower idea last night so I made this

Joan was having a perfectly good time. No troubles to haunt her mind tonight, not one, and she was celebrating this small victory with a well-deserved drink. The Queen had been pushing her hard the past few months, as new missions and Deathly Ones arrived. Tonight, however, Joan got to spend her time enjoying herself, her sword finally free of the blood it had constantly been shedding since April.

A loud cheer echoed around the tavern, stirring Joan from a sleepy stupor to raise her mug and add to the noise with a cheer of her own, a slight smile gracing her lips. She couldn't help but glance at the doors, though, expecting someone or something bad to waltz right in and completely ruin her hopes of having a good time.

Well, her expectations became a reality, it seems.
A man, clad handsomely in a tailored, black suit, an eagle-head cane tucked under his palm, came striding into the tavern just a moment after a lively song began to rise in volume.
Joan stiffened immediately, rising to her feet, refusing to believe it. There was no way...

She reached out and snatched a nearby dancer; a sweaty, pathetic excuse for a man. "You tell me who just came through that door and perhaps your thick head will stay on your pungent body," she hissed, her fingers tightening into a fist around the damp fabric of his shirt, her other hand curling around her sword.

"I - I don't know, lady, I don't know, I swear, I swear!"
The drunken, panicked male tried his best to get away, but Joan far out-matched him in both strength and speed. His attempts got him nothing but a sword on his neck.

"Well, well, well, what have we here? Little baby Ann-ah throwing a little fit?"
His voice was mocking and sly. He knew exactly what he was saying, and exactly how it would affect the furious knight. "It's been a long time, my dearest."

Joan scowled and tossed the man aside, ignoring his cry of pain when his head smacked against a barstool.
"You shouldn't be here, Thomas. I suggest you leave," she said coldly, her sword raised slightly, prepared to strike.
"at least...before I make you."

Thomas put a fair hand to his chest, laughing warmly. "Oh, Anna, my sweet. We both know how much you've missed me."
In hardly a blink, he was right next to her, softly pushing down her sword, his fingers brushing over the smooth skin of her neck, his lips tickling her ear. Damn magic... He had an advantage that she didn't. He could use magic, but she was immune to it - which didn't make her any more powerful against him.

"Hey, mister! Leave the fiesty lass alone! She's proven her worth in this tavern!" A man yelled, thumping his walking stick on the ground.
In the second that it took for Thomas to snuff the life of that poor man, Joan slipped away, tossing a gold piece at the barkeeper before disappearing into the night.

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A young woman was laying sideways across her bed, her lean body stretched out flat. Her dress hugged her frame tightly enough to display the strength in her abdomen, and when she rolled over onto her stomach, her bare arms were lined with a few small scars and cuts, considerable arm strength there too.
As a Beater for the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, a role she had just recently been re-accepted for, it was necessary for her to be strong and well balanced. Quick thinking and even faster reflexes were necessary just to make sure she didn't get hit, not to mention actually playing the game.

Andromeda held a small book in her hands, her thumb crinkling up the pages as she read. It was her own book, so she didn't really mind hurting the pages, but it still wasn't a very good habit.
The book wasn't really anything special, just the typical romance, weird love issues, whatever else. Main character keeps hopping from girl to girl, not realizing that he was actually just scared of losing the one girl he truly loved. It was pretty funny, though. She was right there! Perfect for him, and he had no idea! But now the girl was hurt - she found out that he had been too afraid to buckle down and stay with her - and his life was becoming increasingly difficult to manage.

A soft laugh left her lips, her eyes crinkling with mirth, up until a realization struck her and the brightness in her features crumpled with shock. The book hit the ground with a thud, causing a nearby girl to jump and stare, scared, at Andrie. The Albino didn't care, though.
She sat up quickly, her eyes wide and staring through the wall, her breathing quick and panicked.
"That's exactly what I do," she whispered, her voice wavering. "I do that, and the exact same thing could happen and - and what if I..."
She curled into a ball, drawing her knees up to her chest, putting her head in her hands.

"I-I'll go get the girls to help," the other Hufflepuff whispered, grabbing her satchel and darting out of the dormitory as Andrie fell back onto her bed, confused and hurt.

I do that. I do that to Gabryel, I'm doing it now with Callum. Gabe doesn't have any idea, but what if he finds out? What if I lose him? Callum is nothing compared to Angel. I can't...

She was curled up like this long after the sun set and the moon rose, ignoring the scuffle of students around her. A couple worried girls nudged her shoulder, brushed her snowy hair away from her face, tried to softly persuade her into getting ready for bed and going to sleep. "Things will be better in the morning!" They assured. But they didn't know how...how horrible this was. How easily she could've lost Gabryel if she kept going the way she was. Flirting with other guys, leading them on, crushing on Callum, all of it...

And how would he feel? If he found out that she had been uncaring of everyone elses' emotions, just because her first relationship had crumbled to bits? He'd be upset, surely. Why wouldn't he be? She couldn't imagine him being angry, though. Disappointment was worse, and of course he'd be disappointed.

He wanted to like her. He said so himself. She would never forget that. Yet here she was, making it awfully difficult for that.

She didn't do this. Ever. She never reacted to things in such an...dramatic manner. Never spent all night crying to herself, even when her dad died. Of course, the other girls in her dormitory noticed. One ran a message to the hospital wing, thinking that perhaps Andrie was having particularly bad cramps, and that was why she was curled up and crying.
A few others tried to help her stand, gently pulling her to the bathroom, standing guard as she washed her face, catching her when she nearly fell. She was dizzy, her head hurt from all the crying, and she just...she felt horrible.

Worried voices surrounded her, faces swam in her tear-filled vision, warm hands braided her hair to keep it out of her face, slid off her coat and the thick layers of her skirts, keeping only the lighter layers on. Pulled a blanket over her quivering body. One girl, just small enough to fit right beside Andrie on the bed, volunteered to keep her company by hugging her while she lay in bed, providing a soft warmth for the shocked Albino to hold on to.

Never had she been so scared of losing someone. Never. But here she was now, pathetically weak, needing a team of at least, what, 4 or 5 other girls to make sure she didn't drown in her misery?

- Morning -
Andromeda woke to a light tapping on her cheek. She blinked quickly, then rolled over, letting out a long groan when her head began to pound.
A fellow student informed her of what had happened the night prior when she seemed to show no recollection of it, and the Albino let out a shaky sigh, closing her eyes and putting her hands on her head.

She didn't want to skip classes, but oh, gods, everything hurt.

After a long minute of trying to recover, she was finally sitting up and semi-aware of herself. Her tired eyes moved to the small desk beside her bed and rested upon that book she had found so amusing just last night, and was now scared to pick up again. Just a few words. A few made up characters, a bit of dialogue, some almost-kisses.
Yet here she was now.
Ashamed.

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Poems (I just found these, they were written two years ago)

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Poems (I just found these, they were written two years ago)

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Where I'm From
I am from
Skies that are every color but blue
From cold rain on my burning skin
From fire, loss, pain, despair.
I am from
The light at the end of the tunnel
From nightmares, blood running cold
From wishing I were someone else
From 'don't waste your tears.'
I am from
Friends
Smiles brightening my dark memories
Laughing so hard it hurts
From hugs, from 'I'm here for you.'
From a girl with short brown hair
With a lovely voice.
I am from
A magic bear, a magic world
From the scars I can laugh about
From the fear of water to 'Little Fish'.
From mermaids and dreams.
I am from
Love. Positivity. I am from happiness.
From stories of my own.
From even closer friends
From a future.
I know who I am.

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World                                                                 Sidewalks
A world                                                         Sidewalks are a canvas
of black and white                                    Pink chalk on my fingers
of being normal                                          Colors blossoming like flowers
My world                                                        I could be God
of bursting colors                                         I create the world on a sidewalk
of being myself

Piano                                                                                         Pretty
Knowing what to play                                                       'You're so pretty'
My fingers dancing over the keys                                     they tell me
Flowing water. Glass breaking.                                     What makes me pretty?
Whatever I want.                                                  Brown eyes, dark like chocolate?
The empty creation.                                                 The hint of a smile?
What do I play?                                                            The curly waves of hair
tumbling down my shoulders?
Things                                                                              Maybe it's just because
Simple things                                                                 I know I'm pretty.
Important things
Bad things
Trash
Make up our world                                                                        Fire
Yet, we don't need things.                                        So hypnotizing, so dangerous
I want to light everything on fire
Frustration                                                                   No - wait - I can't.
When I can't play a song Keep away the fire
When I can't get it right for I am afraid.
When I can't learn fast enough
When what I want is too far away
I'll learn someday.

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Friends
It depends.
Sarcastic. Playful.
Affectionate. Supportive.
A toxic heartbreak.
Time to forget.

Minecraft
Ugly but beautiful
Shaderpacks are makeup
Respawn. Never really dead.
Flying. Discovering the Underworld.
Can't find Hades there...
It's lovely.

Love
Makes me cry.
From happiness, wistfulness, everything.
Amazing to read
Freeing to experience.
Perfect, but not.

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I found this and I thought it was...amazing. Such simple drawings that convey the deepest emotion. This literally has nothing to do with my own feelings or life or anything, I just wanted to share this beautiful animation with you all <3

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"Hey you little fuc - er..children...I've got something good for you today!" Andromeda stormed quite violently into the room, moving quickly to stop the door from slamming into the wall. She always entered like this, and at least one person always giggled. She still had no idea who, and it was infuriating!
The pale woman's eyes wandered from spirit to spirit, studying each one carefully - as she always did, like she was only just seeing her...kind of students for the first time. Followers? Dunno, anyways.

A dragon in the corner gave her finger guns, so she gave them right back, even making a little 'pew pew' noise. A small girl nearest to her giggled, and with a clucking of her tongue, she scooped the child up and deposited her...elsewhere. Kiddos didn't need to see this.

"Andy. What have we told you about swearing? Almost swearing doesn't get brushed off, missy!" An elder complained, as he always did, and so the Albino merely gave him a pat on the head.
"You're proud of me, silly, don't lie to yourself. Anyhoo. Today I'm telling y'all about how I died!"

A few minutes - and a fair number of giggle-causing curses later, the PowerPoint presentation was set up. "Andrie's Totally Disappointing Death!" was displayed as the title, which was quickly clicked into hiding, but it didn't go unnoticed.

"Kay, so basically, there was this huge battle in the place I lived in. A bunch of Death Failures - I mean, um, Death Eaters...is their actual name...they came and tried to pew pew us all." Reference to her dragon friend in the corner :)

"Anyhoo, I was fighting, of course. Having the time of my life. Now that the kid is out I can swear as much as I like so -" The spirit leaned down, staring at each and every person in this room. "I destroyed those worthless motherfuckers. Ya hear me? Demolished them. Gone, poof, pow, all by my wand and my boot. I was the best." She drew herself up, lacing her hands behind her back.

"I mean, at least I got to say bye to my little bro, right?" A few spirits nodded in agreement, and her sad smile was quickly picked up into a grin. "Right so - this one guy, I'll name him Huge Piece of Shit, decided to cut me! Sliced open my stomach! Total asshole. Would've gotten him a nice death to the eyes first, if I made it in time. I unfortunately had to ignore HPS, however, because an Even Bigger Piece of Shit That Couldn't Even Get Flushed Down The Toilet - or EBPSTCEGFTT for short, shot the Killing Curse at me!"

Fake gasps of terror echoed around the room, and Andrie nodded solemnly. "I know, I know," she said in a whispered tone. "I hope he got burned and sent to the deepest depths of Tartarus. So anyways, I fall -" She turned to click onto the next slide, showing a picture of a very dead Andrie from above, in that graceful puddle of hers. "I mean look at that."

The spirit did look quite proud of herself, turning to study the picture in more detail. "12/10, such a Disney Princess fall, right?!"

Some of the smarter spirits were agreeing with her, while the more confused ones just stared at the grimy, blood-covered girl in the picture, mumbling to themselves.
The picture switched to a slide of a video, somehow made in the same angle as the picture, although the sounds of furious spell casting was halted by an angry, sudden screech when the camera showed one of the Death Eaters stepping on her hip to get over her. "HE COULD'VE JUMPED!" The voice yelled, and obviously it was Andrie, fuming.

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Andrie's actual death tho (I tried not to make it funny but um..it's not all that sad either)

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Andrie's actual death tho (I tried not to make it funny but um..it's not all that sad either)

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Andromeda was loving this. Every bit. Every satisfying crunch as faces got kicked in, every squeal of pain as bursts of blood spewed from their disgusting little noses. She loved the feeling of winning. Maybe she was destined to win, despite all the losses. Easy-peasy.

Hell - she didn't excel at every class just to come to a situation like this and not win.
With simple flicks of her wrist, easy as delivering a staccato note on the piano, she blocked spells, lit things on fire, froze things, stopped things, whatever she wanted. Fun! Fun fun fun, this was going brilliantly.

At one point she passed Kenji and gave him a playful nudge on the shoulder, dark eyes sparkling with mischief. "Totally winning right now. I'm gonna cause some commotion," she told him, as if she had something up her sleeve, which she definitely didn't. And she had no sleeves, they were ripped off in the fury of battle, so um.
"I'm off, have fun, little bro! Don't get yourself killed." She disappeared into a mob of Death Failures (god, the name would never get old for her) and quickly flashed him the 'I love you' sign with one hand, before knocking down a pair of total disgraces to this planet with just a kick of her boot.

Snowy hair danced, bloody eyes crinkled, sharp, icy smiles flashed. Alive, well, fighting for her life but easily passing it off as a play fight. Pew pew and all, but she would always be the victor.
Or so she thought.

Someone was crafty enough to hit her when she wasn't paying attention, striking a wound deep into her abdomen. Not nearly as bad as being punched through the gut, she thought with sick amusement, continuing on.
Her surroundings were too loud to hear the whispered curse. She had just blocked a spell, just turned around, but there were so many humans in front of her. So many disgusting, grimy bodi - oh.

The girl - the woman, the proud Hufflepuff who never stumbled or tripped...fell. Hard. Her fingers went loose, dead, limp, just like the rest of her.
Her snowy hair pooled around her shoulders, the blood-red tips mingling with the actual blood oozing from the cut across her stomach.
This was nothing like the journal. Why? Because there was no second chance.

Her eyes...of course, of course the Killing Curse had taken that light. Just moments ago, they had sparkled with the delight of succeeding. But now all her hope, all her worries, all her satisfaction and fear...it was gone. Empty. She really did look frightening like this, when there wasn't a glint of life to grace the bloody depths.

Her face was tilted into a smile, at least. She almost looked like she'd collapsed from laughing. Like life was humorous to her, and oh, oops! Laughed too hard, there went her soul. Haha.
But soon even that smile faded. Disappeared. Smothered by death.

And so she lay. In the very place that had given her life, her only home, she passed.
The most disappointing thing, surely, was that she didn't even die protecting anyone. There was no... reason. She would have been so, so frustrated if she could understand this.
'How dare they take me from such an opportunity to die a heroic death? Those bastards.'

Oh, but no. The once-brilliant Snowflake was nothing but a puddle of weakened limbs and silken, ripped fabric. Nothing.

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"I lost everything, so I built a new everyth -"
"No! NO no no no. Not right."
The furious noblewoman pushed herself away from her desk and shot to her feet, beginning to pace.
"That's the most basic way to start a story, I can't.." She gestured vaguely to the blank document on her computer, then gave her father a stormy glare. His smiling face looked up at her from the simple picture frame she kept him in. Like a cage, of sorts, but she couldn't take him out. He was dead. And she was no necromancer.
Unless she was bringing back one of her dead characters, then sure, but -

"More romance, maybe...start it off like...like an important something."
Andromeda sat, her fingers hovering over the keyboard the exact same way they'd float over ivory keys. The observation made her hands go still for a long moment.

She was still in a trance when a quick knock tapped on her door. Her blood-red eyes fluttered, then widened, rosy lips opening to call a welcome.

"H-hey, Andy, I found...I found something I thought might help you a little."
A shy male entered, holding a small binder of papers. He put the paper down on her desk and took a step back, as if he had brought an offering to the gods and was now waiting for their reply.

The Albino squinted momentarily, then peeked into the binder. She expected her assistant to leave now, give her the peace and quiet she needed to write, but he stood awfully still, eyes focused on her.
She glanced up at him, giving him a 'what do you want?' look, eyebrows furrowing with confusion.

"I uh...yeah, sorry." He blushed and scurried away, leaving Andromeda at her desk, pinching the bridge of her nose.
God, this is so stressful. All I wanted to do was write a stupid romance.
So she turned to the one person she knew could give her a break - Kenji. Can't leave Kenji out of any life of Andrie's, really, he's much too important to her. Although, she wasn't sure if he would be busy now, so she sent him a tentative 'Hey, little bro, u good?' and shut her computer down.

A few minutes later she was out of the office and breathing in some new air, her snowy hair falling over her shoulders and across her arms.
Another minute and she had Apparated home, just to drop off her stuff, grab her Firebolt, and Apparate right out again.

Being back in the old Quidditch field gave her nostalgia every time. It wasn't even the one at Hogwarts - or at Noxonia for that matter, it was very unofficial - but she liked coming back here, to pretend that she was back at that castle in Scotland.
She visited sometimes, even. Helped teach a couple classes, watched students learn how to fly, sat on the balcony, relived her younger years.

Things were different now, though. Now she was...alone. Sure she still had Kenji and a couple friends from Hogwarts - even texted Cal a few times, spoke to his mum about fashion...the normal stuff. But after her school years, her love life dissolved into nothing. If only things had turned out differently...

Andromeda shook herself out of her head and mounted her broom, taking a warm-up lap around the small field. She was more focused on the sky than anything else, though - and usually no one was here anyways...

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The Camp Series (Camp Whitewood stories)

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The Camp Series (Camp Whitewood stories)

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- I was standing in the breakfast line with my cabin and some of the counselors from the boys side came over saying how one of their favorite lounge chairs was found on the roof of one of the cabins. Later found out that the person guilty of this was just one of the older counselors who liked to confuse the newer, younger ones.

- There was always this girl who...I just couldn't keep my eyes off of. She was always sitting with me or at a table very close by, and she would always be in my line of sight. I would find myself staring for ages, although paranoia forced me to keep looking away to avoid her noticing my staring.
I was too shy to say hi, though, and because she was younger than me, we weren't put in the same activity group. I didn't see her anywhere outside of mealtimes.
But one night we had a special activity, and I was placed in a group with her and a few other girls. We bonded over raw noodles, marshmallows, and butter. A little bit of a strange way to start a friendship, but it was amazing.
By the time we were called to go back to our cabins, I had discovered that she had complete heterochromia - which caused one eye to be a light brown and the other eye to be a stunning green. I called her Kiwi because of it.

The next morning she found me in the breakfast line and hugged me tight, telling me about how she didn't have time to change out of the clothes she was wearing to bed, and I told her that it's okay, she was still cute even looking all rumpled and tired. I wiped the sleepy tears off her cheeks and shielded her little body from the morning chill. I had never loved anyone more.

- One of my cabinmates wanted to shave her legs but also didn't want to leave the cabin. So she gets out her razor, some shaving cream, and a water bottle. I donated my scissors so she could cut open the top of the water bottle. Then she propped her leg up on a snack bin and soon had a water bottle full of shaving cream. It was actually quite funny, though a little awful to watch at the same time - so we were all laughing and chattering. Then she wobbles, losing her balance, and she knocks over the water bottle, sending the shaving cream/water/hair all over our cabin floor.
It was so disgusting, we were all horrified.

- I spent most of the week with my hair up in a bun, and no one saw me brushing it until one day, when I was sitting up in my bed and having a particularly difficult time brushing it. It was nearly down to my ribs by that time, and most of the girls in my cabin had super short hair - they thought my hair was long. I'm not sure whether they wanted to help cause of my struggle - my head was touching the ceiling and I had no room to comfortably brush my hair - or just because they wanted to play with my hair - but I ended up with a small line of girls trying to take care of the tangles.
They kept cooing about how soft my hair was, it was rather funny.

- On the last day, one of the girls with super long hair was also having tangle-taming troubles, so I offered to help. I brushed her hair (I've never brushed another girl's hair before! a little strange of a first but I've been alone for a long while, and never had any sleepovers or playdates that got that close.) and braided it. She let me put some coconut oil in it cause I noticed it was a little dry, which made her hair really soft. (She said previously that whenever she used coconut oil it made her hair oily and disgusting but I told her she only had to use less than a fingertip amount -)
Later, when I was showing my parents around the area, she was walking by with her mom and grinned at me while flipping her hair - then exclaimed, "Still soft!"

- Someone was sharing a bag of sunflower seeds, also on the last day. We were all chaotic and restless, but we originally started out just by sitting on the porch, spitting the shells at the dirt. After a second we were spitting the seeds at each other, seeing how far we could spit the seeds and who we could hit. It turned into a war which was taken into the cabin. People hid with 'ammo' - a handful of sunflower seeds - and spat at unsuspecting others. It was hilarious.

- It had just rained the night previous, and I was eager to go to the bathroom in the morning. I had just gotten dressed, and I stormed outside in my crocs, tramping right down the stairs - only to fall on my butt. It would've been fine if there wasn't a counselor walking nearby, I think I scared her pretty bad, but I was totally fine. Just with shattered pride and dignity and a bit of a sore back. I went to use the bathroom - and clean the dirt and pebbles off my hands - and when I came back I...I was mad. I let myself be mad. I could hear the girls talking inside the cabin when I approached, and everyone went quiet as soon as I stomped up each stair one at a time. Then I flung the door open, continued my stompy way inside, slammed the door closed behind me, and turned to face everyone. They were all looking at me rather scared, probably thinking I was gonna explode, I was seething.
And then, in a whispered scream, I say, "I slipped down the fucking stairs."

Chaos erupted around me. "What did you say?!" "Oh no we've been a bad influence on her!" "Did she just swear?!" "We've ruined the angel!"

Meanwhile I was just standing there shaking and repeating myself, exclaiming something along the lines of "Fucking bastard stairs, those useless little shits -" and so forth, and everyone was just becoming increasingly panicked like the world was ending. They thought I was pure, apparently, because they had never heard a swear word leave my lips before. I usually just said crap or frick anyways, I mean, there were kids around.

The story of my lack of 'innocence' spread like wildfire. Soon I was being pulled aside just to the repeat exactly what I said. Counselors who were hearing about it looked so shocked, and apparently my cabin weren't the only ones under the impression that I was some sort of pure-minded angel. I was almost thirteen. The eleven year old in my cabin swore more than I did just in that one minute.

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"Aren't I just brilliant? Oh surely my darling hero will love me this time!" The sorceress put an elegant hand over her heart, closing her eyes with a sweet, satisfied sigh.
Her 'audience' - a pair of goblins who would much rather be taking a bath in manure than be watching their mistress swoon over someone - shared a look. One was done with this completely and began to trudge away, tugging the few coarse strands of hay-colored hair that quivered on her flat head.

"You have all the power in the world, but you've taken years just trying to make this random person like you?" The remaining goblin questioned, knowing that although his mistress acted crazy, she was far too soft to hurt her minions in any way, even if they spoke in such a manner. His tongue wouldn't get cut from his mouth, thankfully.

"Oh, darling Robert, you should know how I work by now! And anyways, forcing love only leads to anguish and trauma for both parties." The sorceress patted the confused goblin on the head and began to walk away, her long black hair swishing behind her. Of course, she had no idea if that was true, but she could make up whatever she needed to, really. No one cared enough to check the facts.

"I'm Richard, not Robert, crazy woman," the goblin grumbled with a glare in her direction, but he was forced to scamper after her just in time to hear her next insane plan.

"So we lure him in with one of those common problems, right? Someone needs saving or whatever. The classic." She waved an uncaring hand, nearly smacking down a pile of hastily unboxed weapons.
"Then we lead him into a trap, bind him up, maybe give him a couple cuts and scrapes to take home?" A sadistic grin curved her lips wickedly, truly finishing off the whole villain idea. The grin was quickly stifled, however, and she worked her bottom lip between her teeth, assuming an innocent expression.

"The whole thing. I come out with the mask, as usual, have some clever conversation, and then send him home! Right?" She turned eagerly to Richard, who had picked up an energy blaster and was now trying to point the giant thing at his own head.

"Sure, mistress," came his bored reply. They did this way too often, unfortunately. He once served a stubbornly brilliant, strong woman. But love had made her weak and desperate, turning to the ways of lovesick fools and hopeless romantics. Even if she didn't have such a horrible reputation for being the deathly playful type, the goblin doubted the hero would even glance in her direction.

Angelic features could only get her so far. The rest was basically just circumstance and personality, two things that the goblin had no hope for. At least, he had no idea how perfect she could be, but she never really let her real self show. For all he knew, she was concealing some sort of dark secret or something.

Anyways, speaking of angelic features - the woman did get pretty lucky with those. At 22 years of age, everything about her was elegant and beautiful. Flawless skin (except for the small tree tattoo she had on her left wrist), mismatched eyes (one a gray-blue color, the other a brilliant gold), silky black hair, and a voluptuous figure. And yet the hero never seemed to notice her - unless she was getting that dreadful 'get out of the dark side!' speech.

Raina felt like such a child all the time, though. Typical rebellion. Reaching in vain for love and attention, and when she didn't get any, she acted out and killed a few people or let a few elementals loose, something chaotic and fun to watch, of course!
But how else could she get the hero's attention - and win his heart? She certainly had no idea.

So this was her life now. Plotting destruction and injury for many, just catch a glimpse of him. He only ever saw her in either heavy, concealing makeup, or in a full-face mask....maybe...

Her eyes widened and she halted without warning, causing a goblin to collide into the wall in his haste to avoid her.
"What if I rescued him?" She declared aloud, clasping her hands eagerly. "From myself, basically? Or..." A little doodled-image filled her head. Raina + hero. Hero tied to a chair in a cell, scared and confused, captured by 'someone new'. Raina, her face clean and visible, 'picks the lock' of his cell and cuts the ropes away, freeing him. Many rom-com worthy moments later, along with a bit of staged battle to raise the tension...she has saved him, safely bringing him out of the dungeon and onto the surface.
The doodle story ended on the crude little stick figures making kissy faces at each other, of course.

"That's it!" She exclaimed, startling the poor goblin, who was trying to pick up the papers he had been carrying. Her eyes were sparkling with eagerness and passion - finally, a perfect idea! "He'll be mine then, surely!!"

# data[].attributes.body
- On Saturday, my grandparents dog ran away, so we spent the whole week searching for her.
(We found her just last Saturday, skinny and delirious but alive!! she's starting to eat small quantities of food, and she's warm and safe at home.)
We went to a doggo shelter hoping they might've picked her up and taken her in. She wasn't there, but I did end up falling in love with a beautiful velvety - gray pitbull/terrier mix named Buddy the Elf. He was so adorable. All the pats for him, I desperately wanted to adopt him but we don't have the room >:(
- I started watching Star Wars. Finished the Mandalorian series, and was determined to finally stop being so uneducated in the wars of the stars. Da is helping me out with all the little details of the movies, since I literally know nothing except that: lightsabers are sharp and made of light, there's a Luke Skywalker and also an Asoka who was Anakin Skywalker's padawan, there's a loT of droIds, and the Force is senpai. Oh, and that the padawans have really weird hairstyles.
- I was so bored, I read a billion books and then began re-reading the Harry Potter series just last night. fun!
- I was also bored enough to stuff my face with Tik Toks and die in memes.
- I started writing a song but never finished it.
- Memorized a huge piano piece and began trying to transfer a song I heard to the piano. so far, so good.
- I learned how to crochet! Hoping to start making amigurumi soon!

# data[].attributes.headline
Quotes: City Of Lost Souls ~ Cassandra Clare | Book Five of Mortal Instruments

# data[].attributes.subject
Quotes: City Of Lost Souls ~ Cassandra Clare | Book Five of Mortal Instruments

# data[].attributes.body
"I've noticed the Fair Folk often say 'perhaps' when there is a truth they want to hide," Clary said. "It keeps you from having to give a straight answer."
"Perhaps so," said the Queen with an amused smile.
"'Mayhap' is a good word too," Alec suggested.
"Also 'perchance,'" Izzy said.
"I see nothing wrong with 'maybe,'" said Simon. "A little modern, but the gist of the idea comes across."
--
"I have a plan."
He groaned. "I was afraid of that."
"My plans are not terrible."
"Isabelle's plans are terrible." He pointed a finger at her. "Your plans are suicidal. At best."
---
"I would pluck out my own eyes with a fork before I would give away your secrets," Simon said, then looked anxious. "Wait a second. Do you think that's likely to be required?"
--
Two gold rings fell out, landing with a soft clink.
Simon looked at them, puzzled. "You want to get married?"
"Don't be an idiot."
---
So, she thought conversationally, now that I'm in your mind, want to see some naked mental pictures of Jace?
Simon jumped. "I heard that! And, no."
---
"Maybe we can compromise," she suggested, taking a bite of pie.
"No."
"SIMON."
"No is a magical word," he told her. "Here's how it goes. You say 'Simon, I have an insane, suicidal plan. Would you like to help me carry it out?' And I say, 'why, no.'"
---
"Yes."
"No," he said. "No, it isn't."
Clary sat back. "You don't just get to say no."
"This plan involves me! I get to say no! No."
"Simon -"
Simon patted the seat beside him as if someone were sitting there. "Let me introduce you to my good friend No."
--
"Oh, you know, the usual - demons I might kill, runes I need to learn, people who've annoyed me recently, people who've annoyed me not so recently, ducks."
"Ducks?"
...
"Cool, huh?" Jace said proudly.
She turned and looked at him. "Ducks?" she said again.
A smile tugged the edge of his mouth. "I hate ducks. Don't know why. I just always have."
---
"I was totally passed-out drunk, so he could really have done whatever he wanted and I wouldn't have woken up."
"Oh, please," said Simon. "All I did was tell you the entire plot of Star Wars."
"I don't think I remember that," said Isabelle, taking a cookie from the plate on the table.
"Oh, yeah? Who was Luke Skywalker's best childhood friend?"
"Biggs Darklighter," Isabelle said immediately, and then hit the table with the flat of her hand. "That is so cheating!" Still, she grinned at him around her cookie.
"Ah," said Magnus. "Nerd love. It is a beautiful thing, while also being an object of mockery and hilarity for those of us who are more sophisticated."
---
"I'm pretty sure irony isn't a deadly sin."
"I'm pretty sure it is."
"Lust," she sad. "Lust is a deadly sin."
"And spanking.
"I think that falls under lust."
"I think it should have its own category," said Jace. "Greed, envy, gluttony, irony, pedantry, lust, and spanking."
---
"Are we stealing this boat?"
"'Stealing' is such an ugly word," he mused.
"What do you want to call it?"
He picked her up and swung her around before putting her down. "An extreme case of window-shopping."
---
"Give me a second to clean up the room. It's a mess."
"Yeah, when I was in there before, I think I might actually have seen a fleck of dust on the windowsill. You'd better get on that."
---
"Yeah, well," he said, "the next time you decide to sneak out of our magically warded apartment through a door that shouldn't really exist, leave a note."
---
"No. That you have a lovely reading voice."
...
"All that, and abs of steel," Jace said, turning another page. "What more could you ask for?"
---
Isabelle snorted. "All the boys are gay. In this truck, anyway. Well, not you, Simon."
"You noticed," said Simon.
"I think of myself as a freewheeling bisexual," added Magnus.
---
"I thought you were dead," she went on. "I saw you fall down and - I thought you were dead."
...
"I am dead."
"I know," Izzy snapped, "I mean more dead than usual."
---
"Pretty good," said Simon. "He and Maia are definitely together now. They're in that ooky stage where I feel like I should be giving them space all the time." He crinkled up his nose. "When she's not there, he frets about how he feels insecure because she's dated a bunch of dudes and he's spent the past three years doing military-style training for the Praetor and pretending he's asexual."
"Oh, come on. I doubt she cares about that."
"You know men. We have delicate egos."
"I wouldn't describe Jace's ego as delicate."
"No, Jace's is sort of the antiaircraft artillery tank of male egos," Simon admitted.
---
"Let me get this straight," he said. "You came here to apologize to me?"
She was taken aback. "Of course I did."
"Clary," he said. "You saved my life."
"I stabbed you. With a massive sword. You caught on fire."
His lips twitched, almost imperceptibly. "Okay," he said. "So maybe our problems aren't like other couples'."

# data[].attributes.body
"Kenji fucking Mendoza!"
Her eyes were blazing, her posture drawn up in the way she always did when she was about to spit some fire.
"I don't know what the fuck you're on about, trying to push me away all out of nowhere. What the hell changed, mate? You think I could possibly just forget you, in a snap, leave you to whatever funk you're in? You're being a complete and total asshole, Ken, I think you ought to know."

Her voice rose when she next spoke.
"How dare you, how dare you act like I'll just abandon you as soon as things get rough! You are my family, and I don't leave my family. I don't care what you say, I don't care how much trouble I could get in or how much pain I might go through or whatever the hell your excuse is, I am not going anywhere, damn you!" She pointed furiously at his chest, jabbing at him.

Her eyes shone, tears of pain and love and pure worry, threatening to fall.
"I love you. I don't know what I'd do without you. Flop dead, like a mindless piece of flesh, probably. But here you are telling me to leave, telling me that you don't want to be friends anymore. I need a fucking reason. Call me clingy if you like but I'm worried about you, okay? We go down together, Kenji. Don't push me away."

She stepped closer, her tone dropping to a plea.
"I'm sorry. For whatever it is that's making you so scared all the time. But I'm not letting my little brother, my best friend, my world - struggle without me. I am with you, Ken. I'm here for you. I always will be, no matter what. No matter the distance, or the circumstance, no matter how you change. And if you're trying to protect me somehow, keep me safe, do some stupid hero thing that you do...you're just hurting me more. I'm not happy without you, Ken. I can't be. You've been such a huge, such an important part of my life - you've been with me through thick and thin. So why can't I be with you, too, in the way you were for me? Why can't I stay?"

She blinked, slowly, almost painfully, and a tear slipped loose, leaving a pale track down the porcelain of her skin. She hated crying, and refused to do so if she could help it. Another point of her care.
"If you push me away again, I swear to God, I will kick your ass," she added with a weak sort of laugh, closing her eyes for a moment. The attempt at humor hardly even left a ghost of a smile on her lips - she was genuinely hurt, and her worry for Kenji had made her sick for the past few days. "Unless you think you deserve it. Then, maybe not. But...really, Ken. Please. I've been worried sick, literally." Her hands folded over her heart, which was thudding frantically, echoing her panic and upset.

"I need you. I don't care if I get hurt, I don't care what I have to do. Let me stay who I've always been." The tears weren't stopping now. They streamed down her cheeks, making her head pound and her nose stuff up, one hand raising mostly out of habit to cover the way her lip quivered.
"I love you. Nothing will change that. Nothing, and I mean it. Try me."

She really looked like a mess now. Tears streaming down her face, dark circles under her eyes from all the sleep she had lost, her arms thin and unnaturally bony. She was usually so fit, with her elegant figure and posture. But it had all been thrown out the window, stress and worry wrapping her up and tossing her into a pit. Her hair was tangled, pinned up in a wobbly, messy bun. This month had been far from good for her health, and she was supposed to be happy now. Turning seventeen, and all that.
She doubted a potion of peace could help her this time.

# data[].attributes.body
Ever since the journal came back, I've been sick. Always hurting, always weak, always breaking. I didn't realize quite was happening until I stopped being able to keep meals down. Until I finally wondered why I was having nightmares every night. The same thing, over and over, of the snarling demon before me, a throbbing pain all over my body. And when I wake up, it's always the same. I feel like someone forced desperation down my throat like poison. I feel like I must fix something - as if there were something to fix, which, there isn't.
So I went to the hospital wing.
I got a potion of peace.
And yeah, it worked, but only for a solid 2 seconds.
I'm right back to being sick now.

No one can really see it. Only I do. Well - up until the dark circles appeared under my eyes. I've thinned to an unhealthy weight, I've lost so much of my elegance, it's all just replaced with...with sickness. I'm sick. Why am I sick?

She turned to look out the window, her ink-stained hands raising to her cheeks, where the most recent breakdown had left tear tracks.
I cry all the time now. I hate crying. So why do I do it so much?

She felt her body spasm, and she was forced forward, half-collapsing onto her desk. The pain blossomed from her stomach, making her fingers curl, her lips parting when she cried out.

After a long moment, the ripples of pain subsided, leaving her breathless, blinking away the tears of hurt. This happened often, too. Probably because, at this point, her body was sick of her not eating. Sick of her being sick. Ha.
The extreme amounts of worry and stress had damaged her. Horribly.
She got the occasional distraction; Cal, a fierce game of Truth or Dare in the dorm with some other Hufflepuff girls, a new book to read. But the distractions only lasted for moments at a time, until she just went right back to her cloud of illness.

She took care of herself otherwise. Regular showers scrubbed away the metallic, sickly scent her nose was full of after every nightmare. Makeup made the circles under her eyes fade, so they were less noticeable. She stopped wearing tight dresses in order to hide the new sharpness of her body, the planes of hunger that weren't there before. Instead, she wore big hoodies, pulling the sleeves over her skeletal hands.
It was all she could do.

"It's all I can do," she repeated softly, her voice catching from another round of tears threatening to fall. "It's...all...it's all I can..."
She bowed her head, darkness pushing at the edges of her vision, tears beginning to drip steadily onto her lap. "...do..."

# data[].attributes.body
Andromeda turned her tear-stained face towards the sun that streamed steadily through the stained windows, a silent acceptance of the light. She felt nothing but hurt, nothing but a dull, throbbing pain that pulsed through her weak, shivering body. It was like...the abyss had given her a hug. The room wasn't cold, but her teeth chattered, her limbs all curled together as if she could find an inkling of comfort from herself. Threatening tears stung her eyes and nose, and her head hurt worse than ever.

She was so tired...so lost, drifting in darkness, crippled by hunger and sleep loss.
For a moment, she wondered when she might start hallucinating. A deathly laugh left her dry lips, which she then licked, flinching when she tasted blood.

She was always crying now. She cried when her sweater caught on her table, she cried when it rained, she cried when she slipped down the stairs, she cried in corners and closets and broke down in the Great Hall once, because she walked in and immediately felt sick.

She missed herself. Not being in pain, being able to stuff her face whenever she pleased, having emotional stability. The only thing closest to 'stability' she had right now was Cal. Oh, Cal. Her eyes closed, her chin propped in her hand as her thoughts brushed past his gentle smile, his soft hair, the sound of his wonder-laced voice. She smiled, just a little, though the motion hurt.

Her mind was forced back to the lonely present when the usual stab of pain from her stomach sent her gasping, arching against the desk, her fingers digging into her palms. Blood ran down her wrists, a sob making her body shake even worse than before. And then it was over, and she was watching her blood trail over her skin, her vision blurred and dark.

# data[].attributes.body
Andromeda Valor was hunched over a DADA book, her arms crossed above the book, her head bent completely over it. Her hair pooled around her shoulders, giving her a sort of privacy curtain, a way to hide the wreckage of her face. The red marks on her cheeks where she had scratched herself out of sheer pain, the tear tracks and clumpy eyelashes from crying, the pained twist of her lips.
Her body shook; she always shook nowadays. Like she was cold, so cold that her teeth chattered softly.

She leaned forward a little, unsteady, and nearly slammed her face into the book. Oops.
She shuddered out a small laugh at herself, then shifted her weight, taking it off of her aching arms. Then again, everything ached.

She was on a chapter about Sirens now, her fingers tracing over the images of freakish fish-people. It made her feel better in a twisted way, like there was actually something worse than how she felt now. But in appearance. Yeah, very twisted.

The sickly Sixth Year carefully flipped the page, turning to a chapter on werewolves, a heavy sigh leaving her chest as she flicked through the transformation pictures, and of a werewolf ripping into prey, blood spraying across the picture edges. She just skimmed past it all, and then proceeded to skip right past vampires, too - aaand then she slammed the book shut and jerked back in her chair, letting out a shocked gasp of pain when her stomach ripped out a protest.

Her fingers curled into her palms, digging into her skin mercilessly, and when the pain was over she opened her hands with a wince and watched her blood trickle slowly down her wrist.
Her eyes fluttered, her vision dim, but she still managed to very carefully pat the blood off with the small cloth she had started carrying around, mainly for a situation like this.
And then she felt the tears start to sting her nose and eyes, and rather than fight it like she would've usually done, she succumbed to quiet sobs, her head falling into her hands, leaving a little smear of blood on her cheekbone.

There she sat, crying wretched tears among books piled around her, threatening to fall the same way her life was threatening to crumble apart.

# data[].attributes.body
He got out. He got out. It was such a freeing, amazing feeling, to be free. He was lost and hungry and thirsty, too, but he was free and he felt so light.
He was leaving the shambles of a carriage behind. Leaving the life of a king behind. Now, Damian Parker was dead. To this kingdom, anyway.

In a sudden burst of energy, the young male pumped his fist up in the air, wooping loudly enough for the sound to echo off the trees around him. Now to find a place to stay for just awhile, before he'd set off on his own...

--

I found a...oh, whatever it's called, a group of gypsies. They let me stay with them for a time, traveling towards a town nearby called Beacon Hills. It's been good so far, no one's trying to kill me, which is great. I think some of them are psychics, hopefully no one's reading my mind.

Damian glanced up furtively, looking around the fire, his journal clenched tight in his hands. The group consisted mostly of females, unfortunately. This often resulted in various flirtatious advances. Hot guy meets crowd of females = chaos. He wasn't interested in love, though. Not while he was traveling. Not while his mother was looking for him, determined to find him. Alive or dead.

There were two younger girls who had found themselves a corner to whisper in. Occasionally they'd glance over at him and giggle, before dipping back down to speak to each other. It made him suspicious, if not a little nervous - what were they talking about?

He got up, gathering his things. Bowing slightly, he addressed the eldest gypsy: "I am going to turn in for the night. Sleep well." With that, he turned into the forest - only to loop back and crouch behind a shadow-coated tree just beside the giggling girls.

'Do you have the potion ready yet? We don't know how long he'll stick around, we have to do it now!!!'
'Yeah, I have the potion ready, but I want to do it!!! I'm the prettiest out of the two of us, I deserve him.'
'Not true, Mia! And anyway, I thought we agreed to make him like both of us? Get him to date us both without realizing that we're different? We could add some Tomarian leaf to confuse him ~'

It felt like Damian's heart had gone up into his throat. They wanted to put a potion on him? Really? How shallow could they get?
Standing, the young male ducked into the darkness of the forest, returning to a main carriage only to grab his satchel and pack and go. It was the dead of night, but he'd make it through with his sword and wit. He couldn't stay with the gypsies any longer.

--

Damian was unbelievably wrong. So wrong.
He'd already fought off a werewolf and a few normal wolves, along with some zombified killer bunny. Ichor and blood was trailing down his pant leg, probably attracting more demon things and wolves, a bitter realization for the poor boy. What was he to do against all the magical creatures in this place when...when all he had was a sword? It wasn't even an enchanted sword, either, just a normal bit of iron.

Scowling, he stooped to wipe ichor off his sword. And then his life went on fast forward.

He was swept into the air with a strong arm and slammed into the ground, his sword sailing through the air. Blood splattered across the trees around the clearing, a gruesome sign. A being, colder than ice, loomed over the young male. Sharp, needle-like teeth glinted in the moonlight - and then the most amazing, beautiful feeling rippled through him. It was almost erotic, having his blood taken from him, if there weren't the stabbing pain in his broken ribs and twisted ankle. He was dying, and it felt beautiful.

The vampire jerked his teeth out of Damian's neck, and the world went dark.

---

The world was still very dark when his eyes opened. He was smothered in something that smelled very much like...dirt. When he opened his mouth, some of it fell in - disgusting - and...yeah, this was dirt. Why was he in dirt? God, he was so hungry. Hungry, hungry, starving. Blood would help this problem. Why blood? No questions, just hunger.

Arching up, he tore his fingers through the dirt, laughing when his fingernails ripped. He couldn't feel the pain, and every time he cut himself on a sharp rock or a piece of buried glass he healed. He healed so fast. It was so strange but so lovely. So, he kept going without a second thought.

It felt like hours. Hours of digging and tearing and growling until finally, finally, he burst out of his grave and roared, whipping around, finding a bag of blood laying on the ground. Tearing into it, he poured the delicious red substance down his th - why was he drinking blood?

Gagging, the young male bent over, dropping the bag to dry-heave. It tasted disgusting - sharp and metallic, like any other blood, but another part of him found it sweet and delicious. A luxury. And his lip - his lip was bleeding profusely, and when he raised his hand to his mouth he cut it on the razor-sharp fangs. In his mouth. Belonging to him.
What....the hell?

The horror and overwhelmingness of this all was breaking him. He felt...like a demon, like something dirty that didn't belong on this world. His dirty hands raised to his face and, for the first time in 7 years, he cried.

~

# data[].attributes.headline
There's a lot of gore/torture here so, TW. {4409 characters, 815 words, 43 lines}

# data[].attributes.subject
There's a lot of gore/torture here so, TW. {4409 characters, 815 words, 43 lines}

# data[].attributes.body
Hush little baby, don't you cry..
Her fingers were red. They'd be stained for a few days. Two, at least. She stuck her thumb in her mouth, closing her eyes against the cruel wind as she let the sweet, sweet blood fill her senses. Pleased, she let her knife fall, slipping from her other hand to be buried in the snow.
Mama's gonna sing you a lullaby...
She stepped over a severed torso as if it were no more than a slight bump in her path, a tiny little interruption in her flow. That was exactly what it was, right? Ha.
Hush little baby, don't say a word..
Crouching, she pulled her thumb out of her mouth and pressed it to the forehead of a body at her feet, watching the mixture of blood and spit freeze on the cold skin. A slow smile spread on her lips, as she rose and looked around her.
Mama's gonna buy you a mocking bird..
She was surrounded by bodies. At least twelve feet worth of a circular grave yard. She had taken down an army. By herself. Barely had to lift up a finger. And what had Julian said? 'You'd rather kill yourself before you raised a knife to someone's throat.' He knew nothing.
If that mockingbird won’t sing, Mama’s going to buy you a golden ring..
She tipped her head back, raising her hands to the sky. The blood was drying fast, clinging to her skin in the deathly cold. She didn't mind. The cold was nothing to her. She'd gone through far worse than a bit of chill.

If that gold ring turns to brass, Mama's going to buy you a looking glass..
Fast as a whip, she dropped, her fingers flattening as she raised her arm and flicked out her smallest, deadliest knife. Barely a heartbeat later, the knife was stabbed and twisted through the gut of the body. With a delighted laugh, she dragged the knife through muscles, tendons, organs. Blood oozed between her fingers. Oh, oh so warm...
If that glass begins to crack, Mama’s going to buy you a jumping jack..
She flicked her fingers, laughing harder as she watched the blood spray across the snow. Leaning over, she ripped a piece of dripping skin off the body and raised it above a clean patch of snow, trailing it around in a heart. And then she slammed the skin down on top of the heart, smearing it in a splatter of crimson. No one knew what she was capable of. All they saw was an innocent young lady. They mocked her and pressured her and ignored her when she spoke. They'd learn. She'd take them here, she'd take them all here, and when they had taken a nice long look at all the mangling she had done, they would die. In the most painful way possible, of course!
If that jumping jack is broke, Mama’s going to buy you a velvet cloak..
Unless she couldn't manage something fit for their proper little souls. Perhaps she ought to wrap her knives in silk? Murder them luxuriously? Why, that'd be excellent! Surely they wouldn't protest such a lovely death?
And if that velvet cloth is coarse..

Ha, who was she kidding? They didn't deserve that. No one did. They deserved to die alone. Listen to their loved ones scream their names, call for help. Watch as the world crumbled around them, starve, go blind, be slowly picked apart by rats. Any of it would do. And finally, when they begged for mercy, she would be there. There to slowly drag her knife down their parched throats. There to dig her heels into their ribs, listen to each delightful snap and scream of pain. There to carefully carve off fingers, toes, trace one sharp blade around the elbows and knees, watch blood swell along their collarbones...
Then burn.
What a delightful dream. Thoughtfully, she reached for the blood, cupping it in her hands. She bent her head, splashing her face with the scarlet liquid, before turning her face to the skies and slowly licking off what was on her lips. What would they say if she came home like this? Would they be scared? The sweetest little baby in town ain't so sweet anymore...
Well. It wouldn't be home for very long. Then again, when was it ever? This was why she was here. Why she wasn't in her room, studying obediently like a little lapdog. Slowly, she rose to her feet, rubbing her palms together, watching a few drops of blood fall from her eyelashes. With another childish giggle, she picked up her knife and skipped over the bodies, stepping on a few simply to hear the satisfying snap of bone. They would be frozen and covered soon. And then - oh, then...she'd do it all again.
Sleep, my darling, safe and sound.

# data[].attributes.headline
TW: more gore woooooo {10,614 characters, 1,986 words, 101 lines}

# data[].attributes.subject
TW: more gore woooooo {10,614 characters, 1,986 words, 101 lines}

# data[].attributes.body
Ring around the rosie
A scream rent the heavy air as she lazily dragged her knife from his shoulder to his wrist. She hadn't even properly stabbed him yet, and he was already squealing like a trapped pig. Men were so weak these days. Disgusting creatures. She almost expected this one to be a little stronger. What a disappointment. Stepping back, she gave him just a second to go quiet, staring at her with wide, betrayed eyes, his chest heaving. He was tied down in a way that forced him to stay seated, back straight against the sharp rocks that made up the dungeon wall. That way she could lean over him, finding all the softest, most vulnerable bits of his worthless body to draw pain from.
Pocket full of posies
She hadn't told Julian about this. He never let her do anything fun anymore. He'd tell her no, that this - this monster didn't deserve to die so slowly, especially not by her hand. Fuck him. She would much rather ask for forgiveness than permission. Not like she needed forgiveness, anyway. With a soft intake of breath, she returned her attention to the man at her feet. He was staring at her knife, watching as she flipped it over her knuckles and into her fist. He had relaxed just slightly as she considered her choices, thinking she was done - but now he tried to shrink back against the jagged rocks, trembling.
Ashes, ashes
She crouched in front of him, smiling sweetly. "Oh no, whatever happened to your darling, precious daughter?" The point of her knife found a soft spot on his forearm and dug in, twisting in a vicious circle. Blood spurted from the wound, and the man tried to jerk his arm away, screaming louder this time. Laughing, she gripped tight onto the knife for a moment, before yanking it out, tearing his skin open further from the sudden, careless motion. If he fainted from blood loss, well, she'd just wake him right up with a new wound.
We all fall down
"A - an - angel, pl - please, I'm..." He put his head back against the wall, holding back tears now. Did he think she was under a curse? Ha. Well, he should know better. She grabbed his jaw, jerking his face towards hers so he could see the anger and knowledge in her eyes. She was fully aware, fully here. And that scared him all the more. And, as his attention was on her face, her hand rose to trail the hilt of her knife from his ear down to his collarbone. He shivered, his lips parting as her fingernails pressed into his cheeks, her blade wandering across the prominent bones at his neck. Blood welled to the surface, and though she was upset and hurt and mad as hell, no way was she gonna lick that shit off her own father. So she settled for watching the crimson droplets trickle down to stain on the neck of his shirt.
Ring around the rosie
She leaned back, letting go of his face. He was going into shock, his eyes fluttering against the sharp lighting that illuminated every little droplet of sweat on his forehead. A new scream came from a room nearby. This asshole's little lady friend, calling for him in the throes of pain. She would've loved to torture the bitch herself, but she didn't have that kind of time. Instead, she got to deal with this weasel. Called himself a soldier. With honor and virtue. Scowling, she spat at his feet, a quick motion that made him flinch instinctively.
What do you suppose we
She was just about done playing games. But, he deserved to scream again. Just...a little...louder. She sank to her knees next to him, rolling up his sleeve with all the care and soft touch of a loving daughter. She leaned close, then, pressing the knife against the pulsing blue veins under his skin. The knife sank in and he shuddered, crying out as she continued to drag it down his arm, following the veins, sawing at the skin until she had created a long, terribly deep gash down to his wrist. He was screaming right in her ear, how annoying. Poor planning skills, apparently. She should've considered this. Ah well, not really an issue, but... did she really want to cut off his head so soon..?
can do to fight the darkness
"I've had children scream less than you." Her voice was full of scorn, thick with judgement. Her knife trailed down to his palm, carving a little heart into his skin. He jerked, unable to give a response. It was impressive that he was still awake, honestly, with how weak he was she figured he'd be out within mere minutes. Instead he stared at her, agony in his eyes. "Teeny little babies. There was this little girl once, maybe five or six summers? I cut her to bits. The worst she did was whimper once or twice. She never begged me to stop. She knew she had no chance. You're weak."
in which we drown?
With the accentuation of that final word, she tore off his hand, the resulting wail muting her delighted giggling. She sat back, studying the severed hand, not even looking up when his head fell back and his eyes closed. No worries, she'd just stab him awake. For right now, though, she focused on that heart she had carved. It was dripping, and there were smears of blood from where she had grabbed his arm to hold it still when she traced his veins. This was her little trademark, of sorts. Drawing hearts in blood. Love is pain. It was never anything less, never anything more. Complete and total pain.
With a thoughtful flick of her wrist, she crossed an X over the heart, before tossing the hand aside. She could use it later, to show what she had done. His head would be far better, though. This would be a new...beginning, of sorts. A new dawn when no one would see her as a child anymore. No one would see her as a small gal with a big heart. Maybe if they put in more effort to keep her from being hurt, maybe if they cared, this would have never happened. But here she was. Killing her father with hardly a second thought. Funny, how the tables turned.
Ring around the rosie
Her attention returned to the man, then down to the small river of blood seeping from the stump of his arm. It was seeping into her jeans, warm and sticky to the touch. But she didn't move to get up. Instead, she scooted a little closer, bringing his arm over her lap. Holding it up with one hand, she worked her knife under his skin, using the gash she had made earlier to begin peeling it off of his arm. Blood soaked her fingers in moments, forcing her to dig in her nails to get anywhere with this. He was still breathing, but only barely. Every inhale was deathly quiet, accompanied by a tiny shudder of his torso. And when she finally managed to rip off a hunk of skin, a final breath left his body. Now it wasn't torture, it was play. Finally, she could have her fun without having to react to his oh so piteous noises. Apparently his little friend was still alive, though, she heard a new scream from the other room. It was quickly cut off, replaced with a quiet gargling noise. She couldn't help but smile, closing her eyes and soaking in the bliss of pain. And then she remembered the skin in her hand. Ehhh. That was cast aside to flop on top of his hand, and she soon made quick work of his arm, tearing off the skin just for the hell of it.
This evil thing, it knows me
She rose, taking a step back. Yeah, he looked very dead right about now. She'd gone easy on him, sent him to an effortless death. Tsk, tsk. That wasn't what she meant to do, she wanted to draw the pain out more. Make him feel her anger, her sadness, her regret. The years upon years of being smothered and shoved in the corner, told to wait her turn, told to set down the sword and be a lady. Speak a little softer, be a little more patient, be a little sweeter. Don't leave the house, you aren't married yet. Wait for someone else to take the reins of control over you, torture you, shatter your heart into pieces. Wait, wait, wait. But no, no, it was her turn now. It had always been her fucking turn, she just never wanted to risk the loss of the worthless life she had.
Well, too bad. She lost it. A small sacrifice for her freedom.
Lost ghosts surround me
Her eyes moved to his face. He looked so peaceful. How could anyone look that peaceful after a death as grandly terrible as that? He was never a happy man, though. She had given him what he wanted, just not in the way he expected. It didn't make him any less dead though. She shook her head, heaving a sigh. Stepping forward, she yanked his head back, her hand fisting in his hair as she made quick work of hacking off his head. He'd make a lovely new addition to the stakes that lined the entrance to the dungeons. She would place him there herself, once she got a bit of rest and cleaned up. Letting out her anger was fun and all, but it was still rather tiring.
Heaving a sigh, she turned, pressing her hand against the door to unlock it. Another day, another death.
I can't fall down.
-
Julian didn't say anything immediately, when she showed him her newest head. He merely stared at her, hurt and confusion in his eyes.
"What happened to you, Angel?"
She licked her lips, thoughtfully spinning the head by a few strands of hair. "You know very well what happened to me. Don't ask stupid questions."
He put out a hand; she reluctantly handed him her father's head, waiting for Julian to grasp the hair. It was still knotted with blood, to which Julian curled his lip, shaking his head.
"Are you actually mad at me about this?"
His eyes rose to hers, a dark brow raising with mild confusion from her inquiry.
"What do you think? I'm holding our fathers' head in my hand right now. How could I not be even the slightest bit upset, when I told you not to do any more of this shit? I even said please, An. I begged you." He dropped the head back in her hands - she lowered her gaze, biting her lip.
"He was a monste -"
"He was our father!"
"I know, but he didn't des -"
"What happened to that lady he was fucking?"

She fell silent, and he groaned, turning away. "What the actual fuck, An. Chill with the bloodlust, or I swear to Satan, I will murder you. You can't keep doing this. He would've been a valuable asset."
Her jaw clenched, and she shook her head slightly, her fingers curling. With a soft huff, she spun and slammed the door open, storming out before Julian could stop her. She would put this asshole's head on a stake and get out of here. She needed the fresh air, anyway. Maybe she'd kill an army while she was at it. Surely the other bodies had already gotten snowed over by now? Summer would be hilarious, when most of the snow would melt and reveal whatever was left of those bodies.
She couldn't help but stop, taking a moment to tip her head back and laugh at the stone ceiling. She'd have her way.
She wouldn't settle for less.

# data[].attributes.headline
A little breaker between writing and personal shit

# data[].attributes.subject
A little breaker between writing and personal shit

# data[].attributes.body
- There was this very nature-show like introduction to this...aquarium place. And the cameras/my consciousness was going around the ocean looking at everything. There was a reef, I think, like a rather shallow place coated in coral and weird creatures and stuff. But then it dropped down very sharply, into the depths of the ocean, spooky.
- There was a restaurant inside this aquarium thing that had something to do with me (I kept flipping between Andrie and myself) and I was...looking out this giant tunnel window thing in the reef. There was a jellyfish with peacock feathers that curled up around it like a closed flower bulb, and then the feathers flared out around it, very silk-scarf like. That helped it move around.
There was another thing that looked like a sea urchin and an octopus had a jellyfish baby. Spikes everywhere, many tentacles, floating around like a jellyfish. Thought it stuck to one particular corner of the reef, and I was told that people could look at it and touch it. Which seemed concerning, but okay.
- I was in this white room with a Minecraft-type waterfall in the corner, and people would poke their head through the waterfall and see the sea urchin thing. Except, when I did it, it was absurdly close, and I nearly got whacked in the face with a tentacle. Not fun.
- And then we went from that to Andrie view, and she was in this whole thing because there were these bad people after her for some reason or another. So to get help, she visited the Slytherin 'headquarters', which were in this really old, crumbling building. She walked down this very long hallway to these two faded screen doors, and one said 'boys dormitories' and the other 'girls dormitories'. Going through the girls door, she came to more doors, and one said Men and the other said Women.
So...she went through the women's door.

And through this door was...a complete and total mess. But all I clearly remember is that it was a very small space, and the floor was covered in plastic bags and paper towels. And the walls were covered with shelving that was overflowing with plants. The paper towels were soaked - either something peed on them or the ceiling was dripping, I don't remember which.
There were two women who entered and spoke to Andromeda - one I remember quite clearly as a very severe-looking being, wearing a silver dress with dark green leaves on it.

The scene switched to a library, where Andrie had found a small green folder that had my name and Aidan's written inside. She stuffed it under her shirt to hide it and rushed out of the library.
There was someone chasing her, but I don't know who or why.

Scene switches to a camera on the dashboard (that's what it's called, right) of some guy's car. I'm watching him through the camera as he puts this orange powder on a little shelf thing above the radio and asks it questions. The powder jumps up super high if it's a yes, and doesn't do anything if it's a no. He asked it about who had taken the folder, and when he got to Andromeda, the powder jumped. Nodding solemnly, he swept the powder off the shelf anDDDDD then scene switch to some motorcycle versus car shit.

I think that's when I woke up.

# data[].attributes.headline
Lady Midnight, Book 1 of the Dark Artifices series

# data[].attributes.subject
Lady Midnight, Book 1 of the Dark Artifices series

# data[].attributes.body
"Diana just thinks all relationships are a distraction from studying," Emma said. "Why date when you can learn an extra demonic language? I mean, who wouldn't want to know how to say 'Come here often?' in Purgatic?"
---
"That's not the spirit of the Law, Emma. Remember? The Law is hard, but it is the Law."
"I thought it was 'the Law is annoying, but it is also flexible.'"
---
"Shadowhunter," he hissed.
...
"No," she said. "I'm a candygram. This is my costume."
The faerie looked puzzled.
---
"I don't have that kind of time," Emma said. "I'm a Shadowhunter. Quip fast, die young."
---
"Cristina, I love you," Emma said. "I will marry you. Marry you."
Cristina giggled. "My mother's already picked out who I'm going to marry, remember? Imagine what she'd say if I brought you home."
"You don't think she'd like me more than Perfect Diego?"
"I think you would be able to hear her screaming in Idris."
---
Diana shook her head. "The rules are the rules for a reason. Being a Shadowhunter, a good one, is about more than just training fourteen hours a day and knowing sixty-five ways of killing a man with salad tongs."
"Sixty-seven," Emma said automatically.
---
"It's not ironic. Irony is the unexpected outcome of an expected situation. This is just one of your quirks."
"You shock me," Emma said, pulling out her phone. "I am shocked."
"Sarcasm noted."
---
"Well, we're here," she said. "The world's biggest litter box."
---
"Coffee." Cristina looked startled.
"It tastes of the most bitter poison," Mark said indignantly.
---
"Because he needs it," said Jules.
"It could be a she," said Emma. "It isn't just men who get to be psycho magic serial killers."
---
"I didn't think a Shadowhunter would hire a warlock to murder for them. Mostly we do our own murdering."
Emma giggled. "You told him Shadowhunters are DIY about their killing?"
"We're DIY about everything."
---
"Why did you pull the arrow out?"
...
"Because when someone - shoots you with an arrow -" he gasped, "your immediate response is not - 'Thanks for the arrow, I think I'll keep it for awhile.'"
"Good to know your sense of humor is intact."
---
She took a deep breath. "You're too skinny," she said as brightly as she could. "Too much coffee, not enough pancakes."
"I hope they put that on my tombstone."
---
"He doesn't need to act normal," said Ty sharply.
"He bumped into a pay phone and said, 'Excuse me, miss,' on our way in," said Julian.
"It's polite to apologize," said Mark with the same small smile.
---
"I wish you'd quit going to the Shadow Market," Julian muttered. "It's dangerous there -"
"Oh, NO," Emma said. "Not danger, Mr. I-Just-Almost-Bled-Out-In-My-Car."
Julian sighed and reached for his soda. "I can't believe I ever complained about 'Jules' as a nickname."
---
"Yep. Do you want anything?"
"I've always kind of wanted a Batman clock that says 'WAKE UP, BOY WONDER' when it goes off," he said. "It would liven up my room."
---
The salesgirl, Sarah, stuck her head back around the door, her eyes saucer wide. Emma had forgotten she was there. "Do you need any help?"
"I need so much help, you have no idea," Emma said. Alarmed, Sarah retreated to her counter.
---
Emma whirled around and pointed at her. "Yes, you do. I was serious about your boobs. They look amazing. I don't even think I've seen that much of your boobs before. If I had boobs like that, you better believe I'd show them off."
"Please stop saying 'boobs,'" Cristina wailed. "It's a terrible word. It sounds ridiculous."
"Maybe," said Emma, yanking the dressing room door shut. "But they look great."
---
It crushed his character with a splat, and he tossed the controller aside. "The box serves the Lord of Lies!" he announced indignantly.
---
Mark was descending the staircase. Julian blinked, not quite believing his eyes. His older brother seemed to be wearing a long, slightly ratty fake-fur coat - and nothing else.
"Mark," he said. "What are you wearing?"
Mark paused halfway down the stairs. His legs were bare. His feet were bare. Julian was 99 percent sure all of him was bare except for the coat, which was fairly loose. It was more of Mark than Julian had seen since they'd shared a bedroom when he was two.
Mark looked puzzled. "Ty and Livvy told me this was semi-formal."
---
"Yes, you agreed to this already in the car," Mark said, and frowned. 'This cat is looking at me with judgement."
"He's not," said Jules. "That's just his face."
"You look at me the same way," Mark said, glancing at Julian. "Judgy face."
---
"He's a kid, not a bomb."
---
'DO YOU TAKE ME FOR A BUFFOON? OF COURSE I DID.'
"Jules?" Emma said. "Is everything all right?"
"Buffoon?" he muttered, his fingers flying over the touch pad.
'WHAT DOES LIVVY SAY?'
"Did you just mutter 'buffoon'?" Emma demanded. .. "Julian, try not to act weird, okay?"
---
Ty looked up at his brother. "I don't know what happened." He looked dazed. "I wasn't expecting it - I should have been expecting it."
"Ty, no one could have expected that," Emma said. "I mean, Julian said some words, and boom, Hell's tractor beam."
---
"Not sure." Emma wiggled her fingers. "They have, you know. Stuff."
"No, I don't know." He copied her gesture. "What's that?"
"Unfinished romantic business," Emma said, pulling the blanket up.
"Finger wiggling means unfinished business? I'll have to keep that in mind."

# data[].attributes.body
So, I have...had..this friend. Very good friend. We had a few years of closeness. Our relationship..at least in my eyes, was a mother-daughter sort of thing. Or even two sisters. I've always seen her as a child, which is unfortunate, but I've known her since she was a child. She still is, I suppose, but...
she's growing up.

I went through a bit of a rocky patch in life. I had found another friend of mine, and I was under the impression that they were female, and never was corrected or spoken to about. So I continued thinking as such, even when I developed a hard-core crush on them. I was confused, I thought I was straight. I thought that maybe this was some sort of mistake, how could I love someone, even though I knew - or thought I knew - what gender they are? I imagined myself growing old with a husband, not a wife. Well, a few months later they revealed that they're a male, in fact, and my first words were, "Guess I'm straight!"

Back to friend #1 - she came to understand that she is bisexual. I was happy that she had figured out that part of her life, but I was also frustrated, because with that came her confession of liking me.
What was I meant to say?! There's no way to let someone down gently.
And she knew, she knew I was straight, but she still thought she could win me over. Maybe a few more gifts, a few more compliments, and then my heart would be all hers, right?

Of course not. That's not how I work.
That's not how anyone should work.
I never saw a spark between us. If I did, I would act on it. She would know. But instead, she knows that I have never liked her nor loved her the way she wishes I would.
This would be fine. This would be okay, and I wouldn't worry, and we would be alright.

She chose to tell anyone who would listen about how I broke her heart. She thinks she's worthless, because I never saw her romantically. She's mad, and confused, and wants to know why I can't be bi like her. Why I can't just love her already.
What exactly am I expected to do?
'Oops, she needs me so desperately, I guess I'll stop adoring the one guy who's ever truly seen me, who I've loved endlessly since day one, and switch right to the girl who I've only ever seen as a silly child!' ?
Am I not allowed to have my own preferences? Am I not allowed to love someone who isn't her? Am I not allowed to be who I am, just because she so desperately needs my love?

And why couldn't she see that I loved her all along? Why wasn't it simple enough for me to care for her like a sister, as she had been fine with for years?

Throughout my life, I've done my absolute hardest to stick by at least one rule. That rule is to change myself for no one. She is not the source of my happiness.

I have spoken.

# data[].attributes.body
Jordan snorted. "Without me you'd be bouncing down Madison Avenue, shooting sparks out of all your orifices."
He rose to his feet, shrugging on his green jacket. "Your boyfriend's crazy," he said to Clary.
"Yeah, but he's hot," said Clary. "So there's that."
--
"Hold still," she announced, wielding a bottle near his head. "In three minutes I'm going to smell your neck."
"Well, I never," said Simon. "You've waited a long time to make your move, Fray, I'll say that for you."
---
"I was figuring I could sulk for Idris in the next Olympics," Jace said, ...
"You and Alec could go for pair sulking," said Clary with a smile. "You'd get the gold."
---
Even more troubling was the fact that he also appeared to be wearing a very tight pair of leather pants.
Very tight.
Very leather.
Simon looked down at himself and took it all in. The billows of the shirt. The deep, chest-exposing V. The tightness of the leather.
"Why is it," he said after a moment, "that whenever I think I've found the most terrible thing that could happen to me, I'm always wrong."
---
"It's a rather long story," he drawled. "Suffice it to say that the London Institute is annoyingly well protected, and the Praetor has paid the price. I was going to kill someone today. I just wasn't sure who when I woke up this morning. I do love mornings. So full of possibilities."
---
"Don't throw it - please, please don't throw it - oh, God, he threw it," said Julian in a resigned voice as a wedge of potato flew across the room, narrowly missing his ear.
---
"Okay, fine," she said. "So that was more poetic than astronomy class."
---
"I know you are a dangerous man," Isabelle declared, sashaying toward the bed. ... "Some call you a rake. Everybody knows you are a devil with the ladies with your poetically puffed shirt and irresistible pants."
..
"I pray you will consider my innocence," she breathed. "And my poor, vulnerable heart."
..
"Lord Montgomery considers nothing but his own desires," he said in a gravelly voice. "I'll tell you something else. Lord Montgomery has a very large estate. . . and pretty extensive grounds, too."
..
"Lord Montgomery always surpasses expectations," Simon said, ...
"Mothers, lock up your daughters, then lock up your maidservants, then lock up yourselves. Lord Montgomery is on the prowl."
---
"Maureen put him in leather pants and a puffy shirt because he was being her romance-novel slave."
"He was being her what?"
"Her romance-novel slave," Isabelle repeated, as if Alec were being particularly dense.
---
"Sorry about the armchair psychology. Literally. Here we are in an armchair."
--
"Alec, you've known me for seven years," said Jace. "When have I ever had perspective?"
---
"Simon, you're blushing," observed Jace. "And you're a vampire and almost never blush, so this better be really juicy. And weird. Were bicycles involved in some kinky way? Vacuum cleaners? Umbrellas?"
"Big umbrellas, or the little kind you get with drinks?" Alec asked.
---
"I was going to put what birthday it was on the sign," he said, "but Jace said that after twenty, you're just old, so it doesn't matter anyway."
Jace stopped with his fork halfway to his mouth. "I said that?"
"Way to make us all feel ancient," said Simon..
---
Clary, light-headed with relief, gasped. "Fine? If your definition of 'fine' suddenly includes becoming a snack for a flying death turtle than we are going to have to have words, Jace Lightwood -"
---
"What?" Clary demanded. "Is something funny?"
"'Flying death turtle'?" he said. "Only you."
---
"If you must," said Isabelle with exaggerated indifference. "I should warn you we'll be making out in the dark. Big, sloppy make-outage."
...
"'Make-outage'?" said Clary. "Is that a word?"
---
"I don't know how I got here."
"I could probably retrace our steps," Jace said. "Straight through the faerie corridor, left at the decimated village, right at the blasted plain of the damned, sharp U-turn at the heap of dead demon -"
--
"There was a time in my life when the idea that I might have sex one day seemed more likely that being surrounded by hordes of demons, I'll have you know," he said, maneuvering around a pile of tumbled rocks.
---
"I did not make a pie," Alec repeated, gesturing expressively with one hand, "for three reasons. One, because I do not have any pie ingredients. Two, because I don't actually know how to make a pie."
He paused, clearly waiting.
Jace said warily, "And three?"
"Because I am not your bitch," Alec said, clearly pleased with himself.
---
"I grew on you, though," Jace stated confidently.
"Eventually," Alec agreed. "Like moss, or a skin disease."
---
"Sure, he likes you," said Alec. "You're heterosexual and have low expectations of father figures."
"I think they'll probably put that on my gravestone. 'He Was Heterosexual and Had Low Expectations.'"
---
"Who's there?" he called, then frowned. "Of course," he added, addressing the darkness all around, "even I, as a Shadowhunter, have seen enough movies to know that anyone who yells 'Who's there?' is going to be instantly killed."
---
"Although it would be really awesome if you told us the plan, you know, a little before it," said Isabelle. "Before the end, I mean."
..
"Just a little before," she said. "I like to have some preparation."
---
"I just want you to know," Alec said as he held his wrist out, "that I realize that to you vampires this feeding business sometimes equals sexy times."
Simon's eyes widened.
"My sister may have told me more than I wanted to know," Alec admitted. "Anyway, my point is that I am not attracted to you in the slightest."
---
"It was a little sexy," Simon said. He felt much better, having fed, and couldn't help but poke at Alec a bit.
"It wasn't," said Alec.
"I had some feelings," said Simon.
"Do feel free to agonize about it on your own time," said Alec.
---
"I think we have established in so many ways that I am hot enough for the both of us."
---
"Are we officially boyfriend and girlfriend? Is there a Shadowhunter ritual? Should I change my Facebook status from 'it's complicated' to 'in a relationship'?"
Isabelle screwed up her nose adorably. "You have a book that's also a face?"
---
"Oh, good," Isabelle said. "For a second there I was worried there was going to be an actual plan with, like, steps we could follow. You know, something reassuring."
---
The door swung open, and the brick flew from her hand. The figure in the doorway ducked; the brick hit the wall, and Luke straightened up and looked at her curiously. "I hope when we're married, that's not the way you greet me every day when I come home," he said.
---
"Almost four hundred years is quite a lot to take, even if you moisturize regularly." - Magnus.
---
"Brother Zachariah," Isabelle said. "Months January through December of the Hot Silent Brothers Calendar. What's he doing here?"
"There's a Hot Silent Brothers Calendar?" said Alec. "Do they sell it?"
---
"Can I tell you a boring science fact?" she whispered. "I bet you didn't learn it in Shadowhunter history class."
"If you're trying to distract me from talking about my feelings, you're not being very subtle about it." ...
"I'm not trying to distract you." She held up her hand and wiggled the fingers. "There are a hundred trillion cells in the human body," she said. "And every single one of the cells in my body loves you. We shed cells, and grow new ones, and my new cells love you more than the old ones, which is why I love you more every day than I did the day before. It's science. And when I die and they burn my body and I become ashes that mix with the air, and part of the ground and the trees and the stars, everyone who breathes that air or sees the flowers that grow out of the ground or looks up at the stars will remember you and love you, because I love you that much." She smiled. "How was that for a speech?"

# data[].attributes.body
https://pin.it/7dvfigxqradvbr

# data[].attributes.body
I used to be really scared of death. Like, so scared I'd be awake at night, wondering how long I had until my parents died and I was abandoned on this scary world. Yeah, um, that was when I was nine? But still.
Up until recently, I've been very detached from death. Family dog died? Oh. Okay. Close acquaintance committed suicide? Well, I miss them, but it hasn't really broken my world apart. Hell, I didn't even cry, and a *slightly sad song* can make me sob.
But now I'm in contact with someone I barely know who is fully set on slowly killing themselves from the inside out, and are already doing so. They're saying that they've got about two more days until they probably end up dying in their sleep or something. I haven't really got an emotional connection to them, and we only spoke previously because they'd send me pictures of their cat. Who is *adorable*, by the way. But, it does make it easier for me to support them and do my best to make sure their last few days are the best ones they could have. This is what will make them happy, I've already asked a thousand times. They know they're loved, they just want to go already.
Talking to them has made me realize how easily I could lose anyone. Literally anyone. Whether they be close to me or not, they could still poof right out of my life as suddenly as they arrived in it. Anything from a disagreement to death, they could be taken from me. And *that's* what's really scaring me right now. I get upset if I accidentally ask an offline friend if they're dead, too, which has kind of shaken me a little.
I'm hoping to get over the fear, but I'm definitely . . . I don't know, but, I'll remember this. I love you all. Each and every one of you, you mean the world and more to me. I hope I never have to say goodbye. And lord, I have no idea how to write out how I feel from this all right now. :hhr:

# data[].attributes.body
The knife was so sharp, she hardly felt it slice her skin. It took her a moment to realize that she was bleeding now, which was an interesting realization when she didn't feel much more than a brief sting on the pad of her index finger.
With a quiet huff through her nose, she leaned forward carefully, positioning herself over a small wooden bowl of water. Humming softly, she turned her finger over so the crimson droplet would be forced to trail down to the tip of her nail before it could drip down.

Shifting a little closer, she would shuffle down to lay chest-down in front of the bowl, putting her chin on her wrist as she waited for the droplet to fall. When it did, she sat up a little, raising her head over the bowl to study the droplet as it seemed to explode in the water, becoming a cloud of pretty, dark red. It almost seemed to resemble a dragon, just for a moment. Winding tail, long neck, splayed wings . . . until another drop of blood fell and the image was ruined.

# data[].attributes.body
*From the rubble, what do I see?*
He watched from a distance as the carriage crashed against a boulder. It would've made him laugh, but he had to stay silent.
*There's a whole damn army thinkin' that they're gonna harm me*
*Say goodnight, I'll never get free*
It hadn't taken very long for someone to call the alarm. And then a search party was dispatched to investigate the carriage - or, rather, the shambles it was left in. That was when he ran.
*Oh, I got troubles that won't let me be*
He knew he'd probably spend his whole life on the run, if he wasn't careful. And he was as careful as he could be. He just, didn't change his name, cause it was quite common and it would hard to be asking around for a *Damian* when there were hundreds of those.
*But I won't get tired, set the town on fire*
*'Till my troubles got trouble with me*
He liked setting things on fire. At first he wanted to be careful about it - but he did, 'accidentally', drop a match in a hay wagon that belonged to someone who would die for his mother. Grimy filth.
*Thinkin' that they've won*
*It's only just begun*
They thought it'd be easy enough to find him. They'd believed that they had him trapped way too many times, but he always slipped just around them, finding some new way to outwit the boneheads.

*When I go into that ground*
Many people wanted him dead. He wouldn't let them have that satisfaction, if he could help it.
*I won't go quietly, I'm bringin' my crown*
He didn't want to take the crown because he knew his mother would control his every action. He wouldn't be that sort of king.
*And when I go, into that ground*
One day, he couldn't keep himself safe much longer.
*Oh, they gotta bury me, bury me face down*
But . . . who says that had to stop him? Yeah, no one.

*I've been on the run*
*Since I was a boy*
He wasn't very old at all when he ran away. Only 16, but full of such anger and disgust that it fueled him to keep going.
*But now I'm done runnin', got another thing comin'*
*Watch my enemies get destroyed*
He didn't need to run *now.* Now, he could kill them all, drain their blood, and be cleaned up in barely half an hour.
*Oh, I've got troubles of more than one kind*
And he never was chased by only one army. Mercenaries were on his tail all the time, just to add to the forest beasts and the people of the castle.
*But I never sleep, gotta bury me six feet deep*
*Where the sun don't shine*
He didn't expect to be bitten. It was never planned, it was never asked for. And when he came to, there was dirt packed all around him. Not like he had to breathe, anyways, he was dead. So he clawed his way out, wearing his nails to bleeding stumps as he fought his way to the surface.
*When I go into that ground*
*Oh, they gotta bury me, bury me face down*
A damn shame he'd been buried face up. He stumbled to his feet, swaying at the top of one of the highest hills around the kingdom, watching the city below. People swarmed through the streets with torches and shiny blades, posters with his face were tacked to every wall - and occasionally stabbed - and he had a bounty on his head. But he laughed. He laughed, because what should have been what weakened him just made him stronger. Practically invincible. Immortal. And no one knew what had happened to him.

*I've been counted out, left for dead*
*Wanted with a bounty on my head*
*But somehow, someway, I'm-a keep movin' along, movin' along*
Now, years later, the castle was a ruin. He stepped through it, hopping over piles of rubble and the occasional crushed skeleton. He was glad to know that none of these skeletons were people he cared about. Which had been only two, and both of them were happy and safe at home.
He wound up in what had once been the throne room. Glass was shattered all over the floor, and the lanterns had been completely busted.
Stopping in front of his mother's throne, he stared at the tattered remains of what was once a bright purple velvet cushion. There was a skull sitting on that cushion; he picked it up, cupping it in his hands as he turned it side to side. He would place the thing on what was his old throne, before turning and sitting on the throne.
*Thinkin' that they've won*
*It's only just begun*
From here, on this pedestal, he could pretty much see everything. It made him smile, though not in the warm way he was used to doing these days. Something full of disgust and contempt, rather.
After a moment, he remembered the crowns he kept in his satchel. One, his real crown, decorated with expensive jewels and engravings. Two, his little crown of barbed wire, which had recently been added to with a few lion claws from an old shield he had found. He would pull out his real crown, placing it upon his head for a moment - before he took it off and put it on the skull beside him. The barbed wire crown stayed on his head.
He was no longer a prince.
He was no longer a king.
He was, simply enough, as close to a man as he could be, being one that had come back from death.

*Oh, they gotta bury me*
*Bury me face down*

# data[].attributes.body
"Mom, you don't need to do this. You don't need to keep going out and getting hurt. We can find something else to make you feel better, but please, don't go drinking again. Don't take whatever drugs they give you, just don't, there are other options. Please."
He knew it was too late. He knew she wouldn't listen, she never did. She just wanted to feel something.
The woman was currently sitting at the kitchen table, trying to get down a piece of dry, stale bread as Alana played in the nearby room, staying silent. She hadn't even turned two yet, and she already knew to keep quiet whenever Kayley was home.
Kayley closed her eyes as Damian spoke, her fingers curling into fists. She was silent for a moment - until he opened his mouth to make another plea and she jerked off her stool, raising her plate above her head and smashing it at his feet. "Stop fucking telling me what to do! I'm a grown ass adult, you don't understand *shit!* Watch, when you're like me, and you're tired of your shitty life and your shitty kids and your shitty partner, and all you want to do is get OUT!" Screaming now, cheeks red with fury, the woman brought her fist down on the table, glaring at Damian as he slowly shut down, his face going blank and unreadable.
"You're just like your father. Always tryna make me change. Well, he gave up. The bastard gave up, and you're gonna give up too, do ya hear me? You're gonna give up too, and I will *laugh* when that day comes!"

Damian looked down at the shattered plate at his feet, his lips pressing together. "Whatever you say, Ma. I just want to hel -" He was cut off by a hard smack across his cheek, one that made him bend off to the side and hold his face with a low, pained exhale. When he looked up, he saw Alana standing in the doorway, clutching her teddy to her mouth and biting it anxiously. Her doe eyes were wide, full of fear and glistening with tears - but he waved her off. The girl turned, scampering off to hide in her room as Damian straightened, breathing through the pain.
"YOU AREN'T HELPING! If anything, you're holding me BACK from what I want! I want to be fucking OUT! DONE! I can't do this anymore. You're fucking expensive, this house is fucking expensive, *everything* is! I'm done! I don't care! Just, shut the fuck up for once. You won't like the consequences of being a little jackass, d'you understand?"

Tiredly, Damian nodded, his eyes closing partway. "Good. Clean this shit up, I'm leaving." With that, the woman turned, storming out of the kitchen and slamming the door behind her hard enough to shake it. Damian was left in the center of the room, his cheek an angry red from the slap. She'd scratched him a good bit with the rings she wore, but he didn't want to try and take care of that yet. He had a plate to clean up, and a child to take care of. She needed dinner and a story and he needed to clean the rest of the house. There wasn't time for this.
So, with a sigh, he stooped to carefully gather up the shards, hissing under his breath when he cut himself on one. Lord, would he and Alana ever be safe?

# data[].attributes.body
Andromeda liked going to sit at the entrance of the maze, wherever Orpheus left off to. Just to be there to make sure he came home safe; she'd be able to help if he came back injured, right? And he hadn't really come back injured in awhile, so she'd started relaxing, trusting that he knew how to handle himself and stay safe. Still, she would take his sketchbook and cling to it as she waited, staring wide-eyed at the entrance like she was expecting a ghost to come along.
This happened again today; she had sank to her knees in a puddle of silk at the doors, his sketchbook pressed firmly against her chest with both arms crossed over it, knuckles somehow whiter than what they already happened to be. She just liked having something to hold on to, to pray over. It wasn't like she prayed much, either, but it felt important to pray in a situation like this.

He usually came back after only a few hours. But when she blinked out of a small funk and looked up, she discovered that the sun had dipped ridiculously low. It had been a whole day; the doors would be closing soon. Filled with sudden panic, she clutched the sketchbook tighter, getting to her feet and stumbling towards the maze entrance, placing a hand on one door. She couldn't hear footsteps - she couldn't hear anything, actually. It scared the actual hell out of her. Oh wait. Why was she scared? He would come back, he always did. He would come back and he'd be there to fall asleep in her arms, he would come back with his strange tattoos and beautiful eyes and sad smile. *He would come back.* He promised he would. He promised!

Swallowing hard, she glanced at her hand on the stone, watching her pale skin seem to darken as the sun went down. What if he didn't make it? The doors would be closing soon. Nothing here would hold them open for him, they were huge and heavy and stone and everything here was absolute shit. Useless to her, in this moment. Was there anything at all she could use? Did they have flares, something she could use to tell him to *get the fuck home* without attracting anything? No, no, it was too much of a risk, the monsters would definitely see it too.
Before she really could realize it, she was sitting on the floor again, her breathing fast and panicked. What if he didn't . . . they were almost . . .

She heard a screech. Something freakishly inhuman; not the clicking she was used to hearing from the Grievers. Something else. This, and the pounding of her heart in her ears, which replaced that terrible noise for only a moment, before she heard it again. Her breath caught, terror filling every particle of her being as she climbed shakily to her feet, tripping over her skirts during her attempt at moving away from the doors. She didn't try to catch herself; she just landed hard on her ass, her eyes fixed on the entrance. *Please. Please, baby. Please come out. I don't care if you're running from something when you do, just come out. Come back. You promised you'd come back.*

All she could do was wait. So she did, holding her breath as silence settled back down around her. She was just on the verge of tears, her nose and eyes stinging, though she didn't dare look away or move, lest he come back in the mere second it took to rub her face. He didn't. He didn't, and she was starting to realize that maybe he wouldn't be coming back. Maybe he broke his promise. *He never liked breaking promises, even if it could get him killed,* she thought bitterly, taking a deep breath as a little droplet slipped down her porcelain cheek. After a moment, she closed her eyes just as the doors began to rumble and groan. So she watched. She watched, as the doors shut with a loud slam, hardly even flinching. He didn't come back. She didn't hear him coming back. Whatever had made that noise - it killed him, didn't it?

Drawing a deep breath, she let her hands fall into her lap, the sketchbook flumping on top of them. In a sudden burst of desperate anger, she grabbed it with both hands, squeezing as hard as she could - she couldn't rip it like this, but it did make her hands sore and prevent her from doing any damage to the only thing she had left to remember him by - with a scream so loud it hurt her throat. "YOU PROMISED!" Her breath caught in a hoarse sob as she dropped the sketchbook, getting to her feet and curling her fingers in her hair. "You promised! You promised me you'd come back! YOU BROKE THE PROMISE!" Tears streamed down her cheeks as she pulled her hair hard, her sobs almost as loud as her scream was. Bending over, she dropped into a crouch for a moment, seeming to calm down oddly quickly - before she got up and slammed her fists against her thighs, grabbing the hem of her skirt and ripping it. "You broke the promise. You broke the promise. I was supposed to tell you I love you. Come back. Come back, come back, come BACK!" She flung the fabric at the door, crying out helplessly when it only fluttered weakly and landed barely a foot away from where she stood.

She was breathing hard, her hands sore and her head hurting and her front stained with tears. His sketchbook lay just a few feet away, and with a shuddering exhale of breath, she stooped to pick it up. Her lower lip quivered as she looked up at the walls, before she slowly raised a hand, curling four fingers down and leaving her middle finger up. Her gaze remained steady on the stone walls, dark and full of sheer rage. "You took him from me," she rasped, her voice giving out from all the screaming. "so you will die. You will die by my hands and I will *laugh*."
Lowering her hand, she just stood there, until she eventually melted to the ground to lay on her side and stare at the walls. She was curled around the sketchbook like she was trying to protect a baby as her tears continued flowing, paired with the occasional hitched sob. Why bother fighting now? Why, when he had been the reason she wanted to keep pushing forward, the reason she'd been so determined to learn how to be something useful for this little hell?
Her hand raised to her face, cupping under her cheek and catching some of the tears. Her eyes fluttered closed - she couldn't keep them open anymore. Everything hurt . . . why not just sleep here forever . . . just a long blink . . .
Why?
Why him?

# data[].attributes.body
Aria was jerked awake by a sudden motion of the elevator, her eyes flying wide open as she took a deep breath of musty, hot air - and immediately started coughing. Holy hell, she felt like she was suffocating. Fanning her hands in front of her face weakly, she groaned and tilted her head against the wall, trying to press away the tears that came from coughing so hard.
God, her head hurt. She was sore all over, too, almost felt like there'd be some pretty bad bruises left over from this later - seemed like her hips and shoulders were in for it the most, since she was curled up in the corner of the box and kept hitting herself on the wall by accident.
As a weak attempt at calming herself down, she started counting the things she could see around her. Looked like a lot of crates . . . some people, too? They all seemed about as out of it as she was, so she didn't feel all too worried about them. If anything, it was nicer to know that she wasn't completely alone in experiencing this. Whatever . . . *this* was.
Next, the girl started focusing inwards. She couldn't see very clearly - it was very dark, only rarely interrupted by a sudden flash of light - but she could very well tell that her hair was plastered against her forehead with sweat, and her clothes weren't much better. A baggy T and jeans, it seemed, neither of which felt very comfortable right now, *but then again, the rest of her wasn't all comfy n cozy either.* She was barefoot, too, which she found rather odd but familiar at the same time.

It soon occurred to her that she wasn't quite sure what *familiar* meant. How would she know that she was used to something or another when she didn't even know who she was? *Why didn't she know who she was?* Did she have no kind of identification? No memories - not even a name? All she had was a vague understanding of the world around her, and even then she couldn't help but doubt what she was taking in. Was any of this even real?
Letting out a slow breath and a final, quiet cough, she looked hopefully up at the elevator ceiling, hoping they would come to a stop soon. Her head was pounding; she was starting to feel sick from the jerking motions and the yucky air.
She waited silently for a moment, but it didn't seem like the elevator was stopping yet, so she shifted closer to the person nearest to her and leaned over to them {Alex}. "Do you . . . happen to have any idea why we're in here? Sorry to bother." She had whispered that, leaning in so he could hear, but quickly sat up and away as soon as she was done talking, to avoid intruding on personal space n all. She could only hope that the boy had some kind of response for her, though she was already doubting it being a good one. They were probably all in this together, weren't they?