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yessss

A mess :

Rose missed sleeping. She hadn’t slept in weeks, not since before her memories were returned. Falling asleep wasn’t the issue; it was the nightmares. They all started the same way.
She sits with her family in Rehtar, her childhood home. Clustered around the table; they eat dinner. Rose’s mother’s dark eyes crinkle with laughter after Ahuhn says something Rose can’t hear.
“So silly,” she teases, reaching out to ruffle his already messy hair.
Ahuhn giggles, a cheeky little-boy laugh. Soon the whole family is laughing. Rose laughs loudest of all, even louder than her father, whose deep belly laugh is reminiscent of thunder. Their laughter drowns out the rest of the world. It forms a warm, happy, bubble of love and comfort that both brings the family together and makes Rose feel safe.
It doesn’t last.
Distracted by their mirth, Rose’s family doesn’t notice as shadows begin to envelope their kitchen. Only Rose can see them.
She watches, helpless and terrified. Figures emerge from the darkness. At first, their shapes are blurred; features indistinct.
They snap into focus. Rose recognizes their face, for they all have the same one, and she lets out a terrible, piercing scream.
Hands grab her mother, her father, her older brother. Rose knows, somehow, that the hands are hurting them. They hold her family tightly for a dark expanse of time that feels infinite. Then, they release their death grip and disappear.
Rose’s brother hits the ground hard. His face is pale, his eyes shut. Rose feels as if she might throw up. Her parents kneel over Ahnun, sobbing. Rose wants to help, needs to help.
She runs to his side. Gingerly, she places a small hand on his forehead. His skin is cold as ice.
This is it, Rose thinks, he’s dead.

Devon
Superpower:

Devon was born fully invisible. The midwife fainted, and Devon’s mother had bewilderedly picked up her unseen newborn. He squirmed and cried and behaved just like any other baby; you just couldn’t see him.
After a few days, Devon had begun to flicker. His parents, who had begun to get somewhat used to the idea of an invisible child, panicked. It seemed that their issue had gotten more complicated.
His mother wanted to hand him over to an orphanage. She was tired, she said. She was busy. She wondered if she was ready for a child in the first place, and she doubted she could take care of a partly invisible one.
His father didn’t agree. He’s still ours, he told her. You were excited that you were pregnant. You looked forward to this. Why is it different now? He thought they could do it, but Devon’s mother didn’t agree. They couldn’t compromise.
Devon grew up with his father by his side. He never missed his mother, because he never had her. Occasionally he wondered why she left; if there was something he could have done to stop her. But for the most part, he only needed his father.

When Devon was nearing his eleventh birthday, his father lost his job as a sales manager at a local hotel. He had been proud of his job. Losing it threw him into a dejected slump, and it seemed to Devon that his father didn’t leave his room for months.
They were in trouble. At first, Devon’s life barely changed. Though his father no longer left their messy city apartment to head to his polished desk job every morning at seven, things still felt similar. Devon still spent most of the day alone and inside. He read books and filled out worksheets left over from the last time his father went out.
Even at eleven, Devon could see through the thin facade that was beginning to fade. Things weren't fine. Their money was running out. Their food was running out, because they needed money to buy food. They needed to pay their apartment’s rent. Otherwise, they’d be evicted.
Devon felt like his life was falling to shreds before his eyes. The only thing that could stitch it back together was money.
Nervously, Devon had knocked on his father’s bedroom door.
“Father?” he whispered tentatively.
He heard a muffled sigh on the other side of the splintered wooden door.
“Yes?” Father’s voice was like the door itself, rough and scratchy.
“Father… are you going to be okay?
Devon hadn’t planned to ask him that question. He was going to ask if he was looking to get a new job, if he knew that they needed money.
There was a lengthy pause. A stagnant silence. Devon fidgeted with the end of his shirtsleeve.
I should not have asked him that.
“I’m going to be okay,” Father’s voice cracked, “I just need a break. I love you, Devon. You don’t need to worry.”
But Devon worried. Of course he did. That was one of the only times he wished that he had a mother. His father needed someone to take care of him, someone who could do a better job than Devon.
That was when he resolved to fix things himself. He could make money; somehow. He was getting better at holding his invisibility. And he had always been quiet.
So Devon became a thief.

This is so cringey oh my god lol- but no one will see it >:D

Celia had run away. She had run from her family, her nice, cushioned life in a pretty palace. The worst part, Celia realized, while dying in a ditch, was that she wasn’t sorry.
So many things wouldn’t have happened if she had done what she was supposed to do. But instead, she ran. And in running, Celia had discovered who she really was. Dramatic, but true. Sure, she missed her family; her mother and father and aunts and uncles. Not to mention Noelle. Sure, Celia felt guilty for making them worry. Who wouldn’t?
But she didn’t regret it. Not as her vision blurred, not as her stomach lurched dangerously. She would die, and she would die, the pain was so bad, knowing the truth. She would die happy. If Celia had to die, that’s what she wanted.