#evllives

            ‘ this is you trying to be polite? i couldn’t tell. ‘ a syrupy smile crossed evie’s lips as she leaned closer to her vanity mirror so she could get as good a view as she could for when she attempted to put on her false eyelashes. her mother thought they were an important part of any look, but evie withheld hers for special occasions. and they required a careful and steady hand.

She wanted to. God, she wanted so hard to stop crying, to stop looking this pathetic and actually stand up. Go, get over it. Get into bed and forget this ever happened to her, that a boy dared to use her like Chad had done and that she had been dumb enough to believe he could love her like princes were supposed to do. But every ounce of strength she would have needed to act was now too far from her reach, almost nonexistent in quantity. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t think. She couldn’t do other than press her legs against herself and hide her face between her arms, crying and betraying each and every single one of her mother’s rules by ruining her pretty appearance like this. 

“I just can’t understand!” She whimpered, her broken voice barely managing to form comprehensive words. “I did everything right! I was there whenever he needed me! I smiled, I did everything! Everything!” But—what she failed to understand, too young and too tired to actually see, was that her broken state wasn’t only a mean boy’s doing, but the long list of things she has had to endure so far. The impact of this reality so different from her own, the constant judging, the looks. The words, most everyone failing to hide their disgust or reject. And she hated it! She couldn’t stand it, no. No—for a girl so used to everyone liking her on the spot, falling for her smile and being nice all the time, Auradon felt loud and scary. Beautiful but terrifying with their whispers and apathy and everything that makes her feel small and awful, and bad.

   “NOT IN THE MOOD, Mal.”  Normally, Cat was pretty eager for a bit of verbal banter.  For something of a back-and-forth.  The two weren’t exactly decent at REFRAINING from knocking heads, though nothing they had gone on about had ever been of an unforgivable nature.  Yet, for that evening, the brunette could feel no pull to participate in usual demeanor.  Her mind kept w a n d e r i n g, a child lost amongst a tangle of dark woods.  Fear wasn’t any word she would use to describe the experience, but perhaps a sense of agonizing loneliness.  Of a tormented reminder as to her life.  Her existence.

@evllives​ asked: ❛ i know you cannot forgive me. ❜ // for Audrey //

“Really?” The annoyance was only thinly veiled, Mal seemed  . . . genuine and Audrey didn’t trust it. “What was your first clue Mal?” Her manicured nails tightened around Maleficent’s staff, the orb glowed brighter and Audrey’s anger renewed. Your Mother could hang onto a man in her sleep! 

“Hey uh, this will be all for me.” Emma stated awkwardly after wandering the only arts and crafts store in the whole entire town, helplessly trying to put together enough things that could amount to even a somewhat DECENT birthday present for her son. 

Despite having only just met him, a nagging voice had been at the back of her head since he’d reminded her of his birthday that had just recently passed and she already was a shitty mom, but not even giving Henry a gift would be a new low.

So there she was, desperately attempting to gather crafts to make him a handmade card, and fortunately, found a kit he would hopefully enjoy creating a toy model with.

“I DON’T CARE.” She yells before the other gets a chance to finish that sentence, and—the words that come out of her are so fast, so desperate, that there’s no doubt they come from somewhere far deeper than her better judgment. Hidden, even to herself. Fear is not absent from her delicate features and the tears that linger in the corner of her eyes are proof of how much strength and guilt exist behind her words, so when she tries to speak again ( pressed lips, eyes that avert hers just for a moment ) she does so trying to look a lot more composed than how she feels right now. Or lately, for that matter.

“I had to do something. I—I needed to make sure you were okay! I didn’t—” But it’s not usual for her to be on this situation, to be the one doing the rescuing instead of being helped by any of her new friends. Jay, Mal, Carlos. The kids that actually had a chance to run in the streets and fight for themselves whether they were ready or not for that. The ones who know how to climb and jump and see their way out of situations she has yet to imagine, where Evie was the kid caged at home and always under the restless eye of her perfect mother. Never ruining her clothes, never doing something reckless or impulsive. And definitely, never sneaking out of her room past midnight and pushing someone out of harm’s way without seizing the risks of that. 

Damn, she doesn’t even want to see the wound she can feel burning over her arm. 

But the worst seems to be over and there’s a strange sensation of safety all around. And it’s maybe an illusion, naivety, even her scared mind trying to see the best in this before it’s too late, but she looks at her once more and tries to say something. Anything. Now before she questions her about her screaming a moment before.

another meme i refuse to hunt down because lazy

                 THE DRAGON TILTED HER HEAD, looking more along the lines of curious puppy than any sort of fearful.  Was the threat honest?  In some ways it seemed yes, but Cat doubted that Mal would immediately jump at the chance to DESTROY simply due to a spoken word or two.  Yet, the need to test such a theory did entice her, grin spreading her gaunt features with a mischievous delight that bordered a sense of cruelty.  Hands would raise from her sides, palms upward, arms outstretched.  Flames l i c k e d around her fingers greedily, though she did nothing more than the simple presentation.  Scaring wasn’t the intention so much as revealing her invitation to accept a fight.

            “...Okay.”

                                  One.  Simple.  Word.  Muscles bunched, tension building beneath the flesh she kept hidden by baggy clothes.  Enough to push her curiosity, but not enough to full on disregard what had been instructed of her.  At least not in any way meaningful.  Straightening, heat built in her chest, tickling her very being until green hues blazed like a forest fire raged within her skull.  It didn’t hurt, however.  In fact, Cat found the sensation invigorating, and she breathed in deep to r e l i s h its familiarity.  Anger, pride, defense, strength...  She wasn’t going to allow herself to be shoved around by anyone any more.

another meme too lazy to find

              “DYING FOR SOMEONE WOULD BE EASY.”  What a bold statement to make, perhaps, but Cat felt certain with her words.  Death was not a terrifying concept, and she did not see it as a grand act of love in some respect.  People in the ring had DIED for each other... but none of it was out of compassion or sense of familial obligation.  Usually just mistakes or Copper’s wrath unleashed.  It sounded heroic and compassionate, but really it just left those still alive as... l o n e l y.  The brunette struggled to find the love in that.

       Though, who said family had to involve love?  It could, perhaps, hinge on trust alone, with only tolerating to keep things together.  The misery of such a concept was not lost on her, and she realized that she was once more relating the idea of such a relation to the gang.  It was not a family, it had never been one... it was simply the closest she had had.

                Forehead creased as street rat stared to the ground with intensity.  Trying to understand, to grasp, to comprehend her own whirlwind of thoughts.  They didn’t e n t i r e l y make sense, but most of the decisions she had made in life so far were stupid... what was adding yet another dash of ignorance to her circumstance?

       “I guess I would die for people regardless of loyalty simply because m’not afraid.  I don’t think that would make ‘em family to me, though.  I get wha’ you mean, but maybe s’just not to me.  Maybe m’weird...  I think family is someone I’d be willing to actually split a doughnut with.”  Was she joking?  Perhaps.  Perhaps not.  There twisted some truth to her tone, but the honesty wasn’t the whole scope of her feelings.  “I think... FAMILY is the people I wanna be with.  An’ who would wanna be with me.  Who would take care of me in those little ways family members are s’pposed to do for each other... Y’know?  Like buy them little gifts and tell them t’be safe when they go somewhere...”

     A pause, the silence suffocating to the point she could barely speak the last words.