[cece.]

username:

cece.
name:

vienna
beginning to an end (diary entry):


May 18th, 2019

As I begin to write this, all my emotions have hit me at once. No bad emotions, just the good. I am relived. I am happy, I am so happy. I am excited.
Because I did it.
I’m writing this at 11:00 AM on May 18th, 2019 because in exactly a week, I will officially be a high school graduate. I have been looking forward to this moment since I first set foot in the halls freshman year and now the moment is actually here. I’m writing this as I sob because I freaking did it. I earned my diploma and now I’m going to finally be starting a new chapter and I couldn’t be more relieved and more ready. I have been suffering the several years with my mental health, but this year has been the worst. I need to get out of this prison cell because I can’t grow here. The people inside aren’t helping me, either, but instead are tying me down. They are the chains wrapped around my feet as I continue to drown and I want to breathe again. I cannot take the isolation, the back stabbing pain and the fake friends. I don’t have any real friends here. They’re all self centered and do things in their own self interest and don’t care about how the backlash affects other people and those aren’t the people I’m trying to surround myself with.
I need to start new. And I can finally do that. I know I’ve heard college sucks literal ass, but I think I’m just so ready for a new beginning that I really don’t care. The college I’m going to is beautiful and I’m just ready to be there.
With all that being said, I did it. I finally did it.
I’m not one to hype myself up but now I will because I freaking deserve it.
With all the crap that I’ve been through, from the poor mental health to the crappy friends, I made it. I made it through the hard times and the good times and have kept my head high, even when the world told me otherwise. I persevered. I survived.
I lived.
And now I’m ready to end this chapter and flip the page.

-V
color palette:

[bakuraas.]

username: golden-boy
name: varian || [ palette ]
tell me about them!:

june 1st

[skip]

Mark

[AboveAspen]

username: AboveAspen
name:
tell me about them!:
WIP <333

[S-S-Sweets]

probs gonna drop outta this one sorry,, good luck to everyone entering though!! <3

[fawn,,]

username: fawn,,
name: Allegra
Colour Palette:
https://digitalsynopsis.com/wp-content/ ... es-she.png (sorry for the long link oof)
tell me about them!:

Despite her misleading name, Allegra isn't joyful one bit. She isn't easily impressed and would preferably stay the hermit of a kal she is rather than see the light of day. Sleep hasn't visited her in a while and let's just say that she enjoys her spiked coffee more than talking to people.

Might pretty up??

[shibeboi]

~𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎~
𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚋𝚎𝚋𝚘𝚒
~𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎~
𝙼𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚘𝚝
~𝚊𝚋𝚝. 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖~
---

[FluffyBirdie]

username: FluffyBirdie
name: Kimon
tell me about them!:
moodboard
A fallen angel, who fell into a role of an assassin, relying on their enhanced senses to take the lives he used to protect.

[kipin]

.
user
..........- kipin

name
..........- vienna

..........moodboard

wip

[Sneky]

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username// Sneky
name// Edith
tell me about them!//
Moodboard
Palette

The clinking of a silver spoon against fine china punctuates the stifling silence in the room. She sits across from me, lazily stirring honey and sugar into her tea as the grave news sinks in.
"...Was he in pain?" She finally looks up, if only to keep her tears from falling into the Earl Grey.
"No, he died in his sleep," I lie through my teeth, trying to spare his daughter the gory details of her father's death. Though I think she can tell I'm keeping something from her. Poor little thing, losing a father at such a young age. Yet she’s trying so hard to stay proper, sitting up straight, sipping her tea, and holding in her ugly sobs of grief. Though I don’t know if this simpering is much better.
“To think, if I had just stayed a day longer,” she sniffles, “maybe…”
“It’s not your fault,” I reach out a paw, placing it on her forearm. “He would’ve gone anyways.” I don’t think my words are of any comfort to the girl, though, since her tears begin to truly flow after I close my mouth. I can’t make this right; I can’t bring her father back, but I can try to help her. I hand her the kerchief on the side table and replace it with her teacup, shaking in her grasp. She dabs at the corners of her eyes, careful not to smudge her running mascara.
“...thank you,” her voice is shaky, barely a whisper. A moment of silence as she collects herself, and despite my years of delivering bad news, I don’t quite know what to do. “You know, he never really liked me.”
“Your father?”
“Yes,” she laughs through the shakiness of her breath “Never quite the daughter he wanted.”
“Oh, I’m sure you’re not that bad.”
“Well, I don’t think so. But he did.” Melancholy drips from his voice as she stands up to refill her cup. “Never took a husband, never bore children, and I never really intended to.” She brushes tendrils of her hair out of her face almost melodramatically. “I am rather unwomanly, you know.”
“That’s not true,” I say, making a motion to get up and help her, but she gestures for me to sit back down.
“I know you’re the bearer of bad news, but you’re also my guest.” She grabs another cup and saucer from her cabinet and begins pouring a second cup of tea. “And as my guest, I insist you have a cup with me.”
“I’m not really thirsty, but th-”
“Please, it’s the least I could do after you’ve come all the way here.” She mixes in a viscous concoction with the tea and brings it over to me. “It’s my secret ingredient, cinnamon honey. Gives the tea just a little extra kick.” I take a sip and the bittersweet taste is overwhelming, but welcome in this miserable weather. She takes her seat again across from me.
“You know, he hated me so much he even wrote me out of his will.”
“Really?”
“Yes, elected to give all his money to charity,” she takes a sip of her tea, “at least they can benefit from me being an only child.” I laugh at her joke, if only out of pity, and continue to sip on my tea. “Speaking of the will, you wouldn't happen to have it with you, would you?”
“Yes, it’s right here,” I set my cup down and reach into my briefcase to pull out a pristine piece of parchment with gold filigree. “As his next of kin, I figured we could begin to go over it.” She takes the parchment out of my hands and I finish off my tea, the cinnamon honey thick on my tongue.
“Father did always have a flair for the dramatic.” She eyes the paper, eyelids lowering as she scans the text.
Her steps are surprisingly sure as she strides over to a writing desk and pulls out a fountain pen, setting the parchment down on the stained oak.
“I guess it’s good that I’ve always been good at forging his handwriting.”
I stagger, trying to process what she just said. I begin to stand.
“Edith, you ca-”
A knocking pain, ringing in my head. Headaches come with the job, but this one felt different. My knees give out, sending me crashing to the ground, my head ricocheting against the hardwood flooring. But Miss Edith seems completely unbothered.
“You know, it’s amazing what the taste of cinnamon can mask.” Her voice is eerily calm as she sauntered over to me, relishing in my pain. “Mix it in with something already bitter and you can sneak almost anything past someone.” I begin to writhe and gasp for breath as the poison takes control of my faculties, but I can still hear her voice.

“Tell me, did you believe me?”

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