Cicibaebie - Gracie - Tumblr Blog

hi heres the entire twilight movie as a stamp

Low key want Aegon and larys and Helaena and Alicent to all run away to Essos purely so this can happen

Only the deepest love will persuade me into matrimony, which is why I will end up an old maid.

PRIDE AND PREJUDICE (2005) dir. Joe Wright

let them feed your soul, because your parents never did

You look like Gwyneth Paltrow on food stamps--and not in a good way.

SHIVA BABY (2020) dir. Emma Seligman

i dunno man i just think im a watermelon slammed into your driveway. maybe you should like crack me open so i feel the air inside me. just a suggestion i dunno.

hooooooooooooo my god

benson + details THE PASSENGER (2023)

hey, I just read your Warren fic and i absolutely loved it! I was wondering if you’d be coming back to tumblr anytime soon?

hi honey, its been a minute since someone popped into my ask box! <3 truthfully, i have yet to decide, now its really a matter of how i'm feeling - my motivation to write heavily relies on my hyperfixations and whether or not i have the energy ^^ i will say, i'm happy to have my mind open to any requests you hunnies have, so if anyone is currently kitty deep in their warren rojas phase, pop an ask into my box! i'll try my best to feed the people, or indulge in whatever u babies are thinking about 🌸

love u always,

cici !!!

✧˖*°࿐ before you follow !

i am a minor, and i do write smut. and as a minor (seventeen), i am aware i should not be writing smut at my little age. i understand i am young and naive and will probably grow to regret ever writing porn at this age. that being said, this is my way of portraying myself at the moment. i love writing, i love being able to immerse myself into this world of words, and i love getting to share that with people who feel the same way. if it makes you uncomfortable at all, whether that be my age, writing style, or the things i write about, do not interact ! 

: ̗̀ ➛ do not interact if you are racist, homophobic, transphobic / a terf, misogynistic, or harbour any sort of hateful behaviour / that is bigoted. you are not welcome on this page, and you will be blocked. 

and sweeties who are under the age of seventeen or have an ageless blog, please do not interact with my works — particularly my nsfw posts. stay innocent, and learn about proper ways of loving – not over porn, whether written or on video. do not interact xo ! — otherwise you will be blocked </3

and obviously, do not interact if you don't like the things i post. i understand my style of writing and the things i write about do not fit everyone's taste, though with that being said, leaving mean, hateful comments is in no way appreciated nor warranted. — and though i’m not a fan of having to do work for other people when i’m on my own page, if you will not do the pleasure of blocking me, i will do it for you ! xo 

gracie elli.

cici, she/her, seventeen, taurean, istp-t, bisexual.

୨ lover of puppies, ribbons, chocolate, and chapstick (and totally not milfs!) ୧

౨ currently watching: gossip girl , ahs coven , black mirror ৎ

attention ! i am a minor, and i do write smut. if that at all bothers you, whether you are underage or over eighteen, do not interact. (sweeties who are under seventeen, pls dni ! stay innocent sweet things xo)

this barbie likes other barbies

patreon // check more of my work on instagram // buy prints here

hiii i just read your wareen fic it was so good the way you write him was so sweet i loved it smm. i noticed at the beginning you made sure to say race, hair, and other stuff wasn’t specified but as i was reading you included details like red checks while the reader was blushing and pink lips and not everyone can do that or has pink lips

figured i’d let you know cause it seems like you’re trying to make it as inclusive (which is appreciated) as possible and details like that make it the exact opposite!

oh you're so right love, i'm so sorry for not noticing that at first!! i really appreciate you telling me this, thank you -- i'll be sure to take note of this for future works and edit the already existing one. again, things like this are so incredibly important so thank you for saying something sweets <3

update -- its edited and those annoying lil describing words have been sufficiently removed! 😚 please feel free to let me know if i missed any 🫶

. ˚◞♡  →  pretty lady, w. rojas

one shot trial one !

warren rojas | 4.5k 

just a fluffy warren one shot <3 awkward confession time, sweet kisses :-)

*not edited, forgive me for bad writing 🫶

warnings: the reader's nicknames that are given are predominantly female – girl, lady, woman + no use of reader having particular features – skin colour, hair type, body type, etc | mainly sfw – though much kissing at the end !, use of nicknames (darling, hun, pretty girl/lady, sweets, etc), mature language

“boo, no,” came the quiet exasperated sigh through your lips. you shook your head with a frown, and stared down at the crazed page before you; scribbles of chords, lines and a long series of notes that seemed to only get progressively more snappy. the sight only made the simmering agitation in your chest closer to its near-boiling point. you bit your lip, and squinted your eyes at the page. maybe if you stared incredulously at it long enough, it would burn to ash.

this shit was truly too tiring. 

another sigh, it felt like that was all you were doing, huffing endless long breaths. you loved music, really, cherished it too close to your heart. and it was all trial and error, you knew this. but fuck, it was tiring. the disappointment and anger that forms when you aren't satisfied with your creations are enough to doubt everything. and no one likes that feeling. the feeling of losing that grasp and love for your art. 

no one liked feeling the fear of not being good enough either. the fact that you had to hand this to other people to gaze upon and approve of only heightened that same, exact fear. (your fear was valid, of course. but honestly, the band was only ever supportive and constructive towards everyone’s input and pieces. so yes, your fear was valid, but truthfully, unnecessary.)

maybe it's all a bit dramatic right now, but it's true! 

you pushed your hair behind your ears, and with your eyes still on the page, you readjusted yourself so you were now lying on your stomach. you huffed as you settled with the paper in your grasp, and with one more quick scan of the notes, you felt the displeasure plaguing you only grow. you picked it up with narrowed eyes, and roughly crumpled it, tossing it across the room. see how exhausting this is? 

today was a bad day, a grumpy day. you never liked those. you rather liked the days when you found enjoyment through your craft, the days when you could just fucking blaze through writing without a single insecurity or doubt towards it. 

normally, you would write with the others. maybe as a whole group, maybe a one-on-one with graham or karen. maybe warren. shit, you didn't care. ʲᵘˢᵗ ⁿᵒᵗ ᶠᵘᶜᵏᶦⁿᵍ ᵇᶦˡˡʸ. but it was late at night, and everyone was asleep, just before you were about to do just that, you instead, felt that randomly adrenaline-rushing motivation to just write. you can imagine how it felt when you proceeded to do that exact thing and hated every single thing that you came up with. the anger you were feeling so largely now stemmed from the sheer dissatisfaction towards the sound of the string of chords you came up with. 

you were pretty sure you were beginning to see red. maybe you were possessed because you were starting to feel the urge to smash your pretty red guitar against the ground many, many times. and you cherished that thing like it was your baby. 

you rested your head in your arms with a small frown, and huffed. you decided that, yes, going to bed would be best. maybe tomorrow would be better. you stared at the door and pursed your lips. the good lawyer and bad lawyer in your head were currently having a nasty debate. go to bed and come back tomorrow with a fresh start or stay, and continue to get progressively angrier. the bad lawyer was sorely losing. 

the disappointment towards your work tonight was beginning to make you feel rather sad, instead of angry. and with that, you rapidly decided that it was, indeed, time to go to bed. 

you braced yourself before pushing yourself up, and sitting in a kneeling position. it was uncomfortable, the hard floor wasn't all that kind to your legs, it actually rather hurt. you took a moment to brush your jean-covered legs before actually standing. you pushed your hair over your shoulders and glanced over at your instrument. your earlier aggressive, heavily violent thoughts towards your instrument made you feel just a tad guilty. you paced over to it, and picked it up from its stand with gentle hands. you stepped over to the open case on the floor, the soft red velvet warmly inviting the guitar.

as you packed up, you began to zone out and get lost in thought. whilst closing the case and reaching to clasp each buckle closed, a soft, nearly impossible-to-hear knock interrupted your actions. 

your hands stilled, and you looked over to the door with your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. you were thoroughly convinced everyone was asleep. looking back on it, you should have known otherwise. nearly everyone went to bed before you, even those who went to sleep at a relatively late time. you were always a night person—but you weren't the only one. 

the door opened, and you tilted your head a bit to get a glance at the unexpected guest. when the sight of a cheeky, sheepish smile and brown curls came into your vision, you had to let out a soft laugh. he only smiled wider at the sound and looked down to hide it. “hi warren,” you sang, looking away from his shy form to get back to your earlier activity of packing up your things. 

warren rojas. you two weren't best friends, he wasn't your karen karen and you weren't his peaches, but he was something. you didn't know what, but you knew you did really, really like warren. you always thought he was cool as fuck. chill as fuck too. he was the easiest person to talk to, you could sit with him for hours and just talk about the weirdest things that have no relevance whatsoever. not to mention, leave it to him to know how to have a good time. he was fun, brought it everywhere he went, and simultaneously mastered the art of being a sweetheart. 

“hi,” he said, grinning as he eyed your form, still clad in your day clothes, a patterned halter top and your signature blue bellbottoms. “what are you up to this late at night, hm?” the curly-haired man walked in, shutting the door behind him and curiously looked at the various crumpled balls scattered across the room. 

you let out a small ‘shit’, his short look at your mess acted as a reminder that you probably should tidy it up. placing the guitar case back on the ground, you paced over to each of the white papers, gathering them in your arms. “well,” you huffed, “i was going to write, but it didn't really go the way i wanted it to…” 

softly smiling at your mumbled words, he walked over and quickly picked up the rest (the majority) of the papers. “what about you, cheeky boy?” you asked in return, dumping the crumpled balls into the trash. behind you, he grinned at the nickname. always smiling when around you, he was. you looked up at him as he came to stand next to you, following your earlier actions. he brushed his hands and turned back to you with a hum, “couldn't sleep, ‘nd heard you playing,” he tilted his head at you rubbing your eyes. 

a sheepish ‘oh’, passed your lips, “sorry if i woke you, war’, thought i was being quiet,” 

he shook his head at your murmur, and waved a hand with a small smile, “you can’t wake someone who wasn’t sleeping in the first place darlin’, don’t worry about it,” he wasn’t lying either, really. it wasn’t uncommon for warren rojas to pull all-nighters, and proceed to sleep most of the day. he’d usually pass out after hot-boxing his room. 

nodding, you bounded over back to your case and picked it up again. “okay, well, i’m gonna go to bed now, thanks for helping me tidy up,” you grinned softly at him, “i’ll see you tomorrow, war’,” 

“see you tomorrow, sweets,” came his gentle reply, still standing there like a moron just watching you. he considered stopping, not wanting to seem like a creep, but ultimately those considerations were put to rest within two seconds. maybe he could play it off well enough. you had to have known he had a crush on you, and he knew it. he’s such a sweetie, bless him, but not subtle whatsoever. 

you gave him one last pretty smile before walking to the door, and just as you were about to open it, your hand ready on the handle, you stopped. you pursed your lips as a thought passed your brain, and raised your eyebrows with a hum. “d’you wanna smoke some cush?” 

a beat of silence. 

“fuck yeah, man.”

                                                          ୨♡୧

“y’know, i love your hair,” 

you gently whispered, twirling a curly brown strand between your fingers, and surveyed his face. his eyes were closed, and his body was so relaxed you would have thought he was sleeping. maybe he was, you didn't know any better. warren had his head in your lap, the rest of his body slung across your bed. you had been playing with his hair for the past 15 minutes. once you started, he’d gone completely silent and shut his brown eyes. maybe he really was sleeping. 

he absentmindedly hummed in return, and you smiled at the sound. with one hand in his hair, you picked up the joint from the ashtray set on your bedside table, and took a puff. “it may possibly be even better than mine, i must say,” you declared, placing the joint in warren’s expectant hand. 

at your words, he scoffed dramatically, shaking his head. he took his own puff, before battling your words with his own. “no way dude, are you fucking kidding me?” he exhaled with a scrunched face, making sure to turn away from you as the smoke trailed out of his mouth. “i got a mop on my head, you got some farrah fawcett shit going for ya,” 

that whole sentence nearly shook you to the bone in your state. mop on his head? then saying you could compete with farrah fawcett? you couldn't believe it.“you’re putting me up against farrah fawcett?” you widened your eyes at him, brows furrowed in sheer disbelief, “the farrah fawcett?” he nodded dramatically at your shocked words, “shit, man,” you raised your eyebrows with a hum, bobbing your head. “damn,”

“i’m fully serious,” 

“yeah, i know you are. i just don’t know if i can trust your opinion, angel. i mean it’s farrah fawcett,”

he passed the joint back to you with a floppy arm, and you reached over to place it back in its respectful seat in your ashtray. “you better believe it, hun,” he murmured, closing his eyes once again as you played with his hair. 

“you’re so pretty,” at his whispered words, your hands, where they were making a small braid in his mane, ceased their movement. the sweet compliment was unexpected, and truthfully, popped up out of nowhere. you pouted down at him, feeling your heart swell at his words. maybe he was sleeping and dreaming about farrah fawcett. “warren, your eyes are closed, y’know,” he reluctantly opened his baggy, bloodshot eyes, and looked at you. 

“nuh-uh, not anymore they aren’t,” his brown eyes surveyed your face and he nodded to himself with finality. you cheekily smiled, nearly gushing, “warren rojas got a li’l crush on me?” you cooed, untangling your hands from his curls to pinch his cheeks. 

he tiredly pushed your hands away with a hidden smile, you quietly laughed to yourself. you felt adoration fill your chest. really, that pestering anger inhabiting your heart before had melted away as soon as your cheeky boy had popped up on the other side of that door. he didn't even need to do anything, he didn't even need to know that you weren't having a good day, or time, or whatever. warren rojas just had to be himself to make you practically beam like the sun. 

geez, he had a crush on you? you had a crush on him. a big one too. 

you clicked your tongue as he turned his head away from you, and you rested one hand on his chest and the other on the top of his head. warren had a smile covering his face, but he was shying away. you couldn't believe it, not only were you compared to farrah fawcett, you made the warren rojas shy. what a night!

“stop it,” his voice was partially muffled into your lap, and you brought a hand up to your lips. the big smile on your face felt permanent. “you got a crush on me?” came your voice again, this time quieter, not as teasing—just as filled with adoration. he wiggled around, still groaning. 

you lightly tapped his cheek, a silent ‘look at me,’ passing from you to him. a small smile was glued to your face as warren turned, brown eyes landing on your beaming face—to which he grinned. that stupid grin stayed on his face as you raised your eyebrows at him and kept eye contact, whilst he looked away and gazed at the ceiling instead. he wanted to keep eye contact with you, it was a continuous challenge between you two. he never lasted more than ten seconds—don't be cheeky! you let out a sigh, and looked away as well, trying to pull yourself together. you feared you were having a heart attack with how fast it was beating. the remnants of smoke clouding the air and your lungs only seemed to intensify your feelings—which were already so much. and you didn't know it, but he felt the same. maybe even more so.  

“shit, can you blame me though, sweets?” he exclaimed, sitting up. you jumped as he nearly knocked heads with you. even he didn't expect this, earlier before his mouth betrayed him! god, you plagued his mind, and it just slipped out. really, you were like a stubborn piece of gum stuck to the side of his brain, it was frustrating. warren was a complete ladies' man, and knew his way around the female anatomy like he was a master in the art. he loved women, went crazy for them. but there was just something about you, that made him ache. you were so, so, so pretty, and carried such an abnormally beautiful soul with you everywhere you went. you were passionate in what you did, you were kind, and god damn, you were too fucking funny. you’re so much. too much. warren was a confident man, a charmer, never afraid to speak his mind. then there's you, making him feel like a little girl crushing on paul anka. 

cheesy as fuck. 

“i mean—you’re crazy, girl. literally a fucking fox, it's ridiculous,” warren mumbled to himself, more ranting than anything. he gaped for a few seconds, trying to gather the words on his tongue. you folded your lips into your mouth as you watched him begin his big confession. he glared at the flowery posters on your walls with wide eyes. “listen, i’ve met women, right? many, many women, men even! a lotta people!” you had to hide a laugh behind your hand at his words, “but you, ah–,” he snapped his fingers and shook his head at you. 

“i am a confident man,” warren declared, pointing a hand at you. 

“yes you are,” 

after your small reply, he went quiet, still trying to figure out what it is he wants to say. he wasn't about to say he loved you, no matter how much he wanted to, he was sober enough to know that that was a bit too much. warren felt a lot towards you, you made him feel vulnerable, seen. you made him feel like a literal horde of butterflies were swarming his entire torso. you sometimes made him feel like he was dying, with the way you made his heart skip beats, or made it beat rapidly fast. how does one convey that feeling without sounding clinically insane? i mean, sure, he’d been able to charm his way with the ladies before, using cheesy pickup lines was his favourite thing. ever. they were his favourite. but (not to sound like a total dick) those ladies were different. and you were something. something really important. it didn't help that he was still high as fuck, so, he was relatively stumped on what to say—he did know that he wasn't up for humiliating himself in front of you tonight. 

you bit your lip as you watched him struggle, you considered simply just saying ‘i know, i know, me too,’ to make this whole thing easier for him. but you wanted to give him the time to find it. the man showed no signs of giving up, and therefore you kept quiet. you played with the rings decorating your fingers as he stayed groaning and shaking his head at the ceiling every so often. clearly, he was having a crisis. 

and just as you were about to say something, it came to him. slowly, oddly—not the way he wanted it to, but he couldn't exactly be picky, and he considered leaving this entire thing for later and instead writing you a letter, or maybe even a song! but, you didn't seem like the type of chick to dig that. and you were gazing at him expectantly, concernedly, he could feel it burning into the side of his face. he never wanted to leave a crowd waiting. 

“okay,” he turned to you with wide brown eyes, suddenly feeling a burst of energy. the relaxing effect of mary jane said its farewells, and warren, ever unaware in his state of mind, wondered if he had done cocaine instead. “you, pretty lady, ” he huffed, “make me lose my mind, it’s unfair,” 

you raise your eyebrows at that, and let out a small laugh, but quiet down with a small smile once realizing he wasn't done. “you—and, as i stated before, a fucking fox, i mean come on,” he shrugged before reaching over and grabbing the joint from the ashtray again, warren figured he needed his heart rate to go down, relax a bit. he took a puff, grey smoke flowing out of his mouth in a long exhale, before continuing; “i like you a lot, darlin’. so much too, it kinda hurts a bit,” he placed the joint, now a stub, in the ashy part of its respectful tray.

you nearly melted, the smile on your face became a mere slightly gaped mouth and you thought your eyes were hearts, big red ones like from tom and jerry. “just something about you,” he let out a loud ‘whew’, waving an arm and sending you an exasperated look to which you couldn’t help but laugh prettily. and to warren, that sound was his fuel through this. this awkward confession that had been weighing him down the whole time he’d first seen you play on that stage, this confession that he was convinced would make his chest burst eventually. you made it so easy for him, he didn’t care if he got rejected straight after or got laughed at, he still made you laugh. sleep, food, water, even fucking air was unnecessary, for the man believed he could live off of your joy and happiness forever. 

“you got me wrapped around your pretty li’l finger,” warren murmured. he slumped and looked at you, starting to feel the insecurity kick in. so, he sighed and looked away, pulling a fresh joint from the small tin he kept in his pocket, and ignored your observing stare—despite the fact he desperately wanted to return the eye contact. 

you watched as he placed the joint between his lips, and you quickly crawled and snatched the zippo lighter you two shared off the bedside table, making it out of his reach. he still didn't look at you, merely huffing with a small smile beginning to form on his face, and you had to grin at the sight. you folded your lips into your mouth, and your eyes flickered around his face. you crawled over to him next, kneeling in front of his relaxed cross-legged form leaning against the headboard. 

letting out a huff at his stubbornness to look at you, you raised a single eyebrow. he only looked away further. it was an odd sight, a vulnerable one, to see the ever-confident warren rojas, show shyness and insecurity. he felt exposed, to let his charming, goofy facade fall. 

you knelt forward and softly grabbed the side of his face, making him have no choice but look at you. to him, it felt like one of those scary fucking laboratory hypnosis sessions. like his mind just stopped, and was consumed by you, you, you. you were overwhelming, like he couldn't take a deep breath for a second. shit, he thought he might pass out when your hazed eyes flickered between his own, and soon landed on his lips for a split second. 

and he thought he might’ve died and been sent to heaven when you gently lifted his face to bring the lighter up to his lips and lit the joint still set between them. it was silent, aside from the soft breaths coming from each of you, and the crisp sound of the paper on the joint burning whilst he took an absent-minded puff. you watched as the joint burned orange, and proceeded to flick the lighter closed, and set it on your pale, flowery sheets. 

truthfully, you seemed relaxed, and understanding, like you just knew. but you were so happy, nearly bursting on the inside. you weren't quite sure how you were holding yourself together, you felt fully ready to fall apart. just because of him. warren rojas, sure to be the death of you. 

you turned back to him, plucked the joint from his lips and brought it to your own. he watched with wide eyes as your soft lips wrapped around the white papers, and you took a hit. you weren’t looking at him anymore, rather simply looking down, and he was feeling a bit glad about it. not because your eyes were so intense and burned into him just naturally–but because he was sure to truly lose his shit if you did. 

grey smoke trailed out of your mouth and you turned back to him with a small smile, tilting your head. at the sight, warren let out a sigh, and lightly hit the back of his head against the headboard. “you’re so cute,” you quietly said, delightedly, and he groaned again and shook his head, bringing his hands up to cover his own smile. “god, don’t—” he sighed, running a hand through his curls, “damn you, woman,” 

you beamed, and shuffled to grab his hands away from his face. with them in your grasp, you folded your digits with his and his closed eyes opened. warren looked at you exasperatedly, huffing, “minx i tell you, a minx,” he mumbled to himself, feeling like a crazed man on a drug. you laughed, the sound ringing clear in his ears like the prettiest bell he ever heard. again, he could listen to it for ages, like it was a lifeline. 

you gave him a knowing smile, released his hands, and readjusted yourself so you were even closer to him. you watched as he took a deep breath, processing the close proximity. your heart skipped multiple beats as you brought both hands up to cup the sides of his neck, he sighed as you rubbed your manicured thumbs along his jawline. this beautiful man, you thought. you were sure you could never get enough of his curls, big brown eyes, or his absolute hilarity. you were disgustingly attracted to him, all of him. his entire fucking being. 

he was leaning forward towards you now as you hovered before him. to him, it felt like he was being drawn in, he looked back on his hypnosis thought. your eyes flickered all across the other’s face, and he moved so you were now instead sitting in between his legs. warren, cheekily with a grin, placed his hands on your waist and you huffed a soft laugh, resting your forehead against his for a moment. it wasn't lustful, it was the final buildup of all the unspoken attraction, love, and need between each other. it was sweet, sensual. 

he nudged his nose against yours, and he was so, so close. you two moved fluidly and teasingly, closely hovering over each other and chasing the other's lips. it was like a dance, a silent, ‘you have me, now come get me,’. 

oh, and the reward was legendary. you had your hopes and dreams, but this? it was difficult to describe just how much better it was in comparison. your lips finally slotted together like puzzle pieces, and this time, you really did melt. your shoulders slumped and with a broken exhale, you curved into him. he didn't care, only softly laughed into your mouth and wrapped his arms around your waist tighter, holding you together, whilst you curved your arms around his neck. 

he was perfect, so much so, it ached. your feelings toward him before this were like a game of tag, and endless chase, constantly seeking him out in everything you did; even subconsciously. the attraction kept you going, something to look for, to stay motivated for. but this? this was so much better, being able to have him right here. he was overwhelming all of your senses, you felt like you were drowning in him. you’d happily die this way. 

and warren? the man thought he was living a fantasy. he really didn't know what the fuck was happening, if he had something unknown put in his coffee this morning that made him extra desirable in the eyes of others, especially towards someone like you. yes, warren rojas—ladies' man, a rockstar, but you were a princess in his eyes. someone he did not deserve, could and should not have. but here you were, and you were perfect in every sense imaginable. an indescribable beauty was carried in all of you, and he adored all of it. 

warren, his mouth still on yours (just as overwhelming), ran his hands up your waist and flat on your back, only pushing you closer into him. god, you were so close, but he wanted more. yes, he was already losing himself in you, but just a little more, just a little closer. he happily sighed into your mouth as one of your hands tangled in his curls and the other lightly scratched at the nape of his neck, and this time you were the one smiling. 

you had to reluctantly pull away to take a breath, and warren blinked his brown eyes open with a grin. he rested his head against yours, and drew gentle circles on the curve of your back. 

“does that mean you’re into me too, cheeky girl?”

THE TOWN JEWEL.

the mayor's daughter, gracie elli, commonly known as cici, has been stolen away by a wanted criminal! the young girl, with her blonde locks and sweet attitude was recently dubbed missing. ‘if anyone can find my little girl with her heart still beating, you will be greatly rewarded with the shiniest of jewels and a crisp check of $15,000. sweetheart, if you’re listening, daddy misses you dearly.’ 

a message, who law enforcements speculate is from the criminal, was left on the right side of the mayor’s vehicle. the ‘note’ read, scribbled in bright red paint along the right side of the car, ‘not her daddy anymore’. and right beside it, an outline of pink lipstick, in the form of a kiss — thought to be left by cici. since early this morning, the police and fellow investigators have been doing their best to find any trace of gracie and her kidnapper. 

the previous last sign of the girl was an abandoned pink ribbon, discarded a few meters away from cici's bedroom window, and a few inches away from a set of tire tracks — investigators found the tracks rather haphazard, a blaring sign that the driver was in a rush to get away. unfortunately, the tracks cut off at a random point on a road near the next town. the vehicle was shockingly nowhere in sight, thought to be taken away via the vast nearby fields. whether the criminal has been working alone or not, remains unknown. 

if anyone has any information on gracie's whereabouts, please contact the town hall as soon as possible. 

CONTACT US HERE — 1-800-BYF — ALLABTCICI.COM — [email protected] — GRACIESLETTER.FILE