#and i havent changed anything ive just made a lining but its the shell thats the issue with or without lining

[earlyspringtranscendence]

deeeeeep in autistic meltdown mode oh my god everything is happening so much and my new roommate who is a shitty tall skinny white guy who smokes an inordinate amount of weed is listening to horrible dutch rap in his own bedroom in a way where i can still hear it happening and my legs hurt so so so so so much and the painkiller hasnt kicked in yet and oh my god im about to start crying

[madisonrooney]

hi it's your secret santa! first of all HAPPY BIRTHDAY!! i hope you have a wonderful day! how are you celebrating, if you are at all? safely, i hope! either way i hope you manage to find a way to have a great day full of love!! consider my christmas gift a belated birthday gift as well lol. anyway i loved reading your last answer, it was so thoughtful and sweet. i realized after reading that i barely know anything about dove lol so follow up q: what about dove makes you love her so much?

sorry for the late response! the last couple days have been v busy and ive been super tired and dissociative on top of it so i made a point to save this bc i wanted to give it my full attention!

first of all thank you!! i was going to do a virtual meet and greet with one of my favs from jersey boys but he got confused about timezones so we rescheduled but were doing it next week! then i went to a virtual walt disney family museum panel, had pizza for dinner and watched some liv and maddie, my mom made a cookie cake that we ate while watching the grinch musical, and then some friends and i watched the jersey boys movie together over skype!

im so glad you enjoyed reading my last answer! and oof thats another loaded question (i love it tho)

- like i said when first talking about what drew me to her and liv and maddie, a big thing is just how much passion and love she puts into her characters. ofc she puts passion into every character she plays, but its the passion she puts into characters like liv, maddie, and mal that means the most to me. that goes back to the fact that ive dealt with a lot of negativity directed towards me for enjoying disney channel, and then you have dove out here saying “yah im a teenager/twenty-something who not only respects what theyre doing on disney channel, but puts my all into it” not to mention she even won an emmy for playing liv and maddie in season 4! i hope that passion and talent has started to change the conversation about disney channel, and tbh i think it has at least a bit.  ofc, none of this is to say other people her age acting on disney channel arent talented and passionate, but idk, something about her has always stood out to me. i find her to be more animated and expressive than most. it can be hard for me to read emotions in live action movies and shows, so thats been really important for me. not to mention she was not only playing the lead but TWO lead characters on a four season show with distinct personalities but also subtle similarities. AND the main character in the biggest DCOM franchise in years for 5 years running now. PLUS the fact that there was a period where those were both happening at the same time. she was only 16 when she started all this and hadnt even had any big roles prior to it!! she had a lot of responsibility so it was amazing to see her not only pull it off, but excel at it.

- i just love like....her aesthetic?? shes always seemed to be a very old soul to me, into old jazz music and poetry and stuff like that. its just very charming. and for her to have that aesthetic on top of being a disney channel actress is a fascinating juxtaposition.

- this is kind of sappy and it gets tiring to hear it said over and over again but that doesnt mean it isnt true: i love how transparent she is about her struggles with mental health issues, trauma, and such. she has been for a long time but even more so over the last year or two. no shade to anyone else, but a lot of actors dont really give you a look into their personal lives, they just share and promote their product. im not saying theres anything wrong with that, its good to know what youre comfortable sharing, ive just felt all the more close to her with her being as open as she is, especially as someone who has gone through trauma myself, albeit different from hers.

- kind of connected to that, i love how important spreading kindness, positivity, and love is to her. thats another thing thats been said a million times but still, its very important to me.

for example. she’ll randomly tweet things like “i love you” a lot. im one to always think of the thought process that goes on behind whatever someone posts, texts, etc., bc personally i put a lot of a thought into pretty much anything i say or do before i put it out there publicly, probably bc of my social anxiety. even tho its a simple statement and takes her a couple seconds to post, she still had to have the thought “i want to remind my fans that theyre loved” or something along those lines. and she has this thought FREQUENTLY. to just randomly get a notification every few days or weeks or so of her saying something like that is just very heartwarming to me.

the reason i connected with miley so much when she helped me through my initial trauma was bc it felt like even if no one loved me, she loves her fans, thus she loves me. thus the person i love and admire the most loves me. even if its only one person, it can be enough. it was for me at the time. i feel that same way with dove. when she came into my life, i didn’t feel as unloved, but her love was still helpful to me.

- of course i need to specifically talk about her kindness in person too. dont get me wrong (ive been saying that a lot havent i lol), i totally and completely loved her long before i met her, but naturally, i love her 10x more after the experiences ive had getting to know her in person.

i could go ONNNNNNN about the experiences ive had with her, and i have lol, and if you already heard me ramble about this in the server i apologize, but the most important thing ive taken away from every encounter ive had with her is this: she always goes the extra mile. she always goes out of her way to make people feel special. what i mean by that is she could say/do HALF as much as she has when meeting me and i would still leave over the moon feeling loved. you can tell she does this in excess bc she really truly means it and cares about people like me, she doesnt have any kind of ulterior motive and isnt just going through the motions doing whats asked of her, she simply cares about me and the rest of her fans. some examples - the first time we met, i was sobbing (lol) and she hugged me for a really long time, rocking me back and forth, brushing my hair with her thumb, calling me sweetheart and honey. she even started to tear up a bit herself. - a couple months later, i went to my first liv and maddie taping. i was preparing to reintroduce myself (i looked a little different bc id been cosplaying as maddie the first time i met her) and ofc when preparing myself, i fantasized pretty heavily as i usually do and pictured myself showing her the pic of us on my phone, her gasping, jumping out of her chair screaming, and hugging me, thinking that was probably way more than i was gonna get. that is EXACTLY what happened. then she went on to tell me how my costume made her whole weekend. things like this would continue to happen where i would set the bar impossibly high and not only would she meet it but she’d exceed it. - our usual interaction from there on would start with her face lighting up when she saw me, her calling me some kind of cute name like love or baby, and then hugging me without me even having to initiate it. - when i saw her in mamma mia, i didnt know when id be seeing her again afterwards after pretty consistently getting to see her for 2 years, so i wanted to make sure we got some kind of closure. at the stage door, i reminded her how much she meant to me and just expected like an “aww i love you too” or something back, but she said “you are an angel in my life” and i will never forget that. obvs, i havent told her ALL the details about what she and her characters mean to me but like...she can tell. she can tell if im in a homemade maddie costume sobbing into her arms that theres something there, and shes VERY appreciative of that. - i thankfully got to see her at a meet and greet a few months later and every time i thought i should get going cuz i didnt want to hold the line up, she would just open her arms for another hug. speaking of being appreciative, she even said “thank you for being such a supportive fan.” as i left, i turned around to say one last goodbye. i made sure she wasnt with the next fan yet and yelled out “bye!” and she yelled back “I LOVE YOU!!” and blew me a kiss. again, its the little things. - i saw her at a small panel in new york a few months after that. she walked in the room when the lights were down as they were playing a clip, she quietly waved hi to everyone, then saw me and loudly whispered HI BABY!!! and stopped on her way to the stage to give me a hug. (then she looked at me from the stage and asked which way i thought she should cross her legs for the interview lol) - sometimes when she sees im next in line, shell give me a knowing smile or whisper “hi baby!!” or something like that. she saw me in the crowd after clueless and seemed to make a point to come to me last bc she knew wed be talking for a while, which we did. she even told me she’d seen me in the audience, asking if i was in the front on the left, which i was.

even all that is still just scratching the surface. weve “known” each other for 5 years now and every time i think she’s done the most she can do, she outdoes herself again. not to mention when im at these events, i see her treat all the fans she meets with all of that kindness too. naturally all of this has made me love her all the more.

- finally, lets just be honest here..........................shes REALLY fucking hot.

[shhh-no-ones-home]

tattooed on my heart steven adler x reader

+++++++++

havent done an actual imagine in a while so heres a super soft/cute one

imagine: steven dating an alternative/goth girl. hes a v soft boy and everyone is super confused how that works but he is absolutely smitten with her and her style.

song: fingers crossed by coin

tag list: @cynic-spirit @satans-arse

+++++++++

"hey, ill be right back."

i said standing off the couch and kissing steven gently.

"okay."

he said not wanting to let my hand go. we had been invited to a party and i was definitely feeling out of place. with their rock star life style i had anticipated more leather and chains but it seemed like duff and i were the only ones participating in the trend. even axl chose to wear jeans. i didnt really mind though, i was used to being stared at and thats exactly what happened as i made my way to the bathroom. every wall was lined with people lingering around each other and most of them were gawking at me, a few of them reaching out and grazing their fingers against the chains hanging off my leather jacket.

when i reached the bathroom i sighed in relief, closing the door and looking at my tired eyes in the mirror. the black around them was smudged and smeared down my face from the long night of partying but it kind of went with the 'dont fuck with me' look. not that the teased up Mohawk didnt do that or anything but still. i laughed at the thought of myself standing next to steven, the complete opposite of myself in every way. he was such a ray of sunshine and happiness; i was practically dating a golden retriever. i knew he loved me though, i fascinated him, or at least thats what he told me.

i tip toed up a bit to see my legs in the mirror above the sink, looking at the two week old tattoo sitting just below the hem of my dress. the velvet felt nice on the healing skin but i needed to wash it again. thats the one thing i hated about new tattoos but the outcome was always worth it. i dropped back to flat feet before propping my leg up on the sink and washing my leg off, some of the dead skin falling away in bits of black and pink. i heard a knock at the door just as i was drying my thigh off, queuing me to leave. when i walked back into the living room of the house steven was still sat on the couch talking awkwardly with a way-to-interested female. she was cute if i was being honest, herpale blue blouse made her look nice in contrast to the other more bold women at the party.

"hey baby."

he said relieved, noticing me and holding his hand out for me to take.

"sorry, my leg was starting to itch."

he nodded.

"sarah this is my girlfriend y/n."

he said, smiling widely at me and helping me into his lap to sit, now that the couch was full. she laughed a little bit as he slid my dress up a bit to inspect my tattoo, he absolutely loved it. hes the one who helped me pick the placement and all that too, saying my thighs were his favorite part of my body so why not add more art to the art that was already there. it did take up the majority of the space after all.

"youre joking, right?"

she asked as i draped my arm around his shoulders.

"hes absolutely not."

i said looking down at him endearingly. he smiled back up at me with the widest smile, rubbing his thumb lightly into the inside of my thigh, being careful not to push into the tattoo.

"how the hell do you date someone like that?!"

she asked, eyes wide. slash , sitting behind the woman and talking to someone else, leaned over and tipped his glass towards me. he knew exactly what i was thinking.

"we ask ourselves the same question at least three times a day darling."

he said amused. she looked over at him as i laughed, stevie looking a little confused by what he meant. slash turned back around, her gaze falling to the floor a little expressionless and shocked to say the least.

"what do you like about her? youre so normal in comparison."

she pointed out, a bit shell shocked. when i looked from her back to him he was already staring at me, a small smile on his lips.

"whats not to like?"

he asked, wrapping his arms around my waist, petting his thumb into the velvet of my short dress.

"just look at her, its like dating a walking art museum. plus shes the most interesting and unique person ive ever met."

he said generally, still keeping eye contact with me. i couldnt help the blush creeping its way to my face.

"i love everything about you, from the way you make your coffee in the morning to the way you stay up with me at night to make fun of those stupid late show hosts. and not to mention how you make me feel, like i belong in every every part of your life. hell you even let me pick where your new tattoo went, how many people would do that? and now as an added bonus i get to look at my favorite thing on your body all decorated."

i leaned down and kissed him gently. when i pulled away he looked over at her, a lazy smile playing on his lips.

"not to mention she is much more interesting to look at without her clothes."

i laughed nervously and hit him square in the chest with my hand.

"steven!"

i scolded and he just squeezed me tighter to him.

"look babe, i love the outfits but you cant tell me you dont look stunning naked, decorated in ink and design."

he awed and i kissed him again.

"i love you stevie."

i said admiringly, feeling the couch shift.

"if youll excuse me i need to go re-assess my approach to getting guys to like me."

i laughed a little bit, catching her hand before she was gone.

"hey, dont change for any guy. if they truly love you then you wont need to. i know i didnt. mohwak and all."

she finally smiled back at me and nodded knowingly.

"thanks."

i let go of her and she walked off into the kitchen. i turned back to steve, holding his head in my hand and running my thumb over his cheek bone. he seemed absolutely in love with me and i couldnt help but melt. he was the best thing that had ever happened to me, crazy life style included.

"is it lame to ask for another kiss?"

he said softly, looking between my eyes. i shook my head no.

"of course not."

i said, leaning down and kissing him gently. he hummed into it and i sighed at the sensation. when i pulled away i rested my forehead on his, eyes closed.

"i love you baby."

i said softly. he kissed me again, smiling into it.

"i love you too."

[fisherfurbearer]

fuck sam walmarts

and fuck management

I’ve had it. Left the store in tears tonight.

as some peoople probably/hopefully know. walmart closes at 6 pm on christmas eve. no one actually gets to leave at 6 becuase of shitty last minute customers. but it is what it is.

this. is really personal but im honestly SO close to just. killing myself? so who cares

basically. had a really really bad last few days. spent a lovely time with family (jessies family, his oma and opa and sister and parents and it was just a great time. theyre more family to me than most of my blood family) but it did make me Sad in Deep ways as we dont know if this is going to be our last christmas with his oma who isnt doing so good. and it just twisted me up a little but was othewrsiwse a great day. but then sunday i just...had a huge breakdown in the morning and decided to use my accomodation (i get 2 excused absenses a month) to cool down and gte myself together. slept a lot. woke up adn got a lot done, felt great, then i CRASHED really really bad, got really angry, lashed otu, took like...8-10 sleeping pills...theyre horrific things and im never doing that again...had to sleep for two days after that...felt horrifically sick, in pain, just awful. had repeating nightmares over and over. which has also been wearing me down recently. wasnt able to work monday either because i still couldnt stand and between the pills and the depression/anxiety and really just. felt like the world was ending.

decided sometime last night id just...try my best to make it in today, work my shift (really long 9-6, knowing i wouldnt leave on time nad htisis my first time working in 5 days now...which is rough...) and if i can get through this, i have another couple days off in a row after that (schedules fault, not mine...do feel awful i missed 3 days before that though...) and we can just. get back on track

today i DID go to work, jessie drove me in

i worked. a long time. im supposed to get a break every 2 hours and a 1 hour lunch

i gott my first break on timeish.

then i got my lunch 6 hours after i got in. at which time i got “locked out” for not taking my lunch and coudlnt do anything on the registers. i was supposed to get it 4 hours in. its christmas eve and excruciating and im still in pain and tired from my previous days breakdowns, but otherwise?? i did really good. i didnt mind at all that my lunch was so late. i was a little miffed, but its ok. i dont care, so long as i get it eventually. anyway they FINALLY noticed i was locked out and got me coverage and i ended my lunch at 4. things continued ok. worked on self checkout, met a lot of regulars i really like, prevented $200 of theft (HAHA WOW that was really really funny i love preventing petty theft. i prevent so much theft every week its my pride and joy) just did okay. then they had us close self checkout that took a little while. then at 5:00-5:10 or so i went to my Manager/Supervisor/”““People LEad” as walmart is now trying to call them, lets call her manager Y, and i told her i still need my break and will i get it before i leave. she said go to register 4. i asked again hey will i get my break though and she said yeah and i thought to mysel HAHA thats not going to happen but ok

really stupid that after bieng locked out the first time she couldnt give me my break before i openned a register with a line i cant get rid of

anywayy i did ok otherwise for a while

but at 5:25 or so i reminded a CSM “hey i need my break still can i get that?” and she just ssaid yeah well try to get someone and then more time passed so much time. i put through an ask on the register “assistance needed”. waited another 10 minutes. “assistance needed” again. starting to get anxious. its past 5:40. the line is so long. theres so MUCH NOISE. Its SO LOUD. the intercom keeps going off, no one is responding to me, i dont have a mat to stand on so my knees HURT,, im not doing okk

i switch my light to flashing/need assistance and start looking for someone to ask for help. its 5:45, i need my break NOW, i DESERVE IT for workng this long ass shift and they already missed several of my last breaks a week ago AND got me locked out today and im STARTING TO GET ANXIOUS PELASE I JUST WANT MY BREAK SO BAD

nnthgen a csm is passing by im about to lose it, so i tell her CSM J, please i really need my break now PLEASE and im starting to ccry and i try to tell her whats going on but she shushes me and goes and gets sometone

im full on tears at this point, im so strreesed out,,

manager Y and some other snooty manager come over andd. ffkcing. ask me whats wrong. im crying and i try to explain im really really stressed out, i havent had my last break, ive been trying to get someone for so long now, i just really need to leave im so sorry

and theyy just. fckkng

ffcking manager Y jjst ssays ok “ill give you your break” and “this is your last break” and i ssaid?? yeah i knoww?? andd she saidd “next time youre like this, just dont come in”

i quote that completeltyyy....i really lost it then...i cried som muchh

this isnt the first itme she said something like this to meee...

she asked me “why are you CRYING” When i had an anxiety attacki n the store once, when ic cloked in and couldnt get myself together,, she didnt give me time to calm down, she didnt listen as to why, she just said “why are you crying. this is a BUSINESS. you cant be CRYING Here.” and i just said ok ill go home bye and leftt

andd when i tried to get my availability changed from 7-9 to 7-6/7-7 because the random late shifts with 7 am shifts was messing me up really really bad and my doctor thinks i need to hcange it too, she just said “i cant do that. thisi sa BUSINESS.” and she wouldnt listen when i said i might have to quit because of this, this is for my health, im literally scheduled 7-2 every sunday in december, busiest day of the busiest month and you cant even chop TWO HOURS off my weekend availability????

andd i jjst

ive HAD IT with her

ive had ittt

im so ashamed and angry and anxious and i still havent stopped cryingg. she called me over to her again as i was leaving and she blamed me for it. she ssaid a customer was upset that i “Screamed” (ues i raised my voice a little but i wasnt screaming??? also the two customers i was attending to when this was going on and i cried were VERY KIND nad jjst said i was doing a good job and thanked me for being there) and called a manager over (but...csm J got them?? not a customer...??) and i cant be acitng like this, i cant do customer service when im stressed,, and d i should just STAY HOME If im going to be like that

then shee fufkcing toold me i DID IT WRONG, that i “shouldve called someone over” I TOLD HER I DID!!!!! I DID!!!!!!!!!! YOU NAIL INTO MY HEAD IM NOT ALLOWED TO LEAVE THE REGISTER SO I DIDNT, I DID EVERYTHING ELSE I COULD THOUGH!!! I REQUESTED HELP TWICE!! I TURNED MY LIGHT TO FLASHING!!! I TRIED TO CATCH A MANAGER WALKING BY TO HELP ME!!! N OONE LISTENED UNTIL IT WAS TOO LATE, I DID EVERYHTING I COULD!! yet she seriously told me to my face that “you didnt call anyone”, “you couldve turned your light to flashing” WHICH I DID and sshee jjst said that i made customers uncomfortable and i cant work like thatt and just stay hhome

ii stayed home sunday because i was having a mjor mental emergencyy.

i came in today because i was feeling better and i took it eaasy and ended up doing a wonderful job and mad eso many people smilea nd fixed so many problems that wouldve otherwise upset a lot of folks and i met my regulars and made old folks smile andd i prevented a lot of theft that no one else wouldve caughtt and i jjstt broke down after 9 hours and not getting a last break and all the chaos of register (WHICH BY THE WAY THEY KNOW I DONT LIKE REGISTER!!! I THRIVE ON SLE FCHECOUT!!! THATS MY JOB TITLE!! THATS WHAT I DO!!!! THEY KNOW THISS!!!!) and HER AVOIDING GIVING ME MY FUCKING BREAK and NOT RESPECTING MY FFUCKING METNAL DISABILITIES LJNASDKAJHDBASJSDNAJSNDKANSD

I JJST DONT KNOW WHAT TO DOO

i really want to die and i really want to never go back but i really loved my job i loved helpting people ii jjst hate her so muchhh and i feel GENUINE DREAD/SEVERE ANXIETY jjst SEEING her nnow

she doesnt CARE about anyone but herself shes a horrible peson i cant tell the store manager though cause she wont care either and manager Y has more clout than me so shell just twist my words and make me out as the bad guy as hte “CRAZY ONE” who cries and gets stressed (FOR COMPLETELY VALID REASONS AFTER BEING PUSHED OVER THE EDGE) even tthough i work SO FFRIKCING HARD and do SUCH A GOOD JOB and asdjanjsdhajshdas

i d ont know what to doo

i cant work another job because no where else pays as much or will let me do self checkout only, because being a cashier stresses me so muchh

ii...really wanntted to grow stuff and make preserves and sell bee products and work with folks raising heritage sheep and make more fiber art andd open a little stall at a local market and sell all that,, and offer more online and do customs andd stuff

i know i could mkae money that wa ybut i ccantt start it so sudenly and im too Broken to do it seriouslyy and i dont even want to HAVE to quit because of ONE PERSON But shes done this so many times now and this is the nfinfal streaww

i jjst dont know what to doo...

i cantt stop cryingg

i cant even enjoy christmas nnow. wanted to see my stepdad and give him his presernt and maybe be ok.

last christmas we had to move because our house was condemned after a fire. now im going to have to lose my job because of a horrible manager who doenst respect my metnal health or anything about me reallyy. and unfortunately im such a failure that i cant. do anything else and if i lose this job ill lse my animla sand i wotnt be able to do anyhtingg andd im jjust fucking trash

goddammit i dont know what to do. i really dont. hhahaaa. i just really want to end it. ive come so far and none of it fucking matters because of thiss fucking horrible manager.

[decadentrpg-blog]

WELCOME EMILY, YOU’VE BEEN ACCEPTED FOR THE ROLE OF HELOISE DELACOUR

Admins Note: Heloise was certainly a difficult choice to make but after much assessment, I want to say that I absolutely adore what you’ve brought to the table! From build up of her background to every little historical reference that was placed within your application, it cohesively created this duality that Heloise has! I’ve enjoyed every interaction she has as well as the clarity and rationale behind her thinking! Your faceclaim request for Virginia Gardner has been approved. Congratulations on your acceptance again, please make sure to head your way to the checklist and submit your account within the next 24 hours!

Out of Character

Name / Alias: Emily

Pronouns: She/Her

Age: Twenty-two

Timezone: GMT.

In Character Application

Full Name: Heloise Delacour

Sexuality: Lesbian.

You like girls. No, that’s wrong. You love girls. You love the smoothness of their skin. You love their gentle curves, their bodies like oceans, refreshing and divine. You love stroking their hair as you lie between sweat-soaked sheets, curling it around your fingertips. You love sharing lipstick shades so it won’t get too messy when you kiss and the sound beaded dresses make when they hit the ground. Most of all, you love who you become around them. Bursting at the seams with euphoria, without a trace of shakiness in your footsteps, you unveil the creature you fought so hard to become - self-assured and valiant. You always slipped into her without thinking about it, knowing instinctively, that this was right. This was who you were supposed to be.

Gender/Pronouns: Cis-female, she/her

Hogwarts House:  Gryffindor.

The hat was adamant. They wanted you in Gryffindor. They wanted you to learn to harness your own roar, the find power in your sort of bravery - perhaps even to tame the brasher instincts of your peers, to calm the storm inside of them. Not every kind of bravery favours the bold, the defiant, the loud. There are different kinds of bravery. The courage to carry on when the chains around your neck drag you to the ground. The strength to try and try and try. The valour in turning yourself into an anchor, a steady weight for the rest of the world to ground themselves on. There are all sorts of bravery in this world, each as useful, each as needed, as the last. Children, yourself included, see so much, but so little at the same time.

You didn’t glimpse the potential in yourself. You wouldn’t for many years yet.

But the hat knew.

You pleaded for Hufflepuff, knowing you’d be able to carve a home out of the house. The world underestimated badgers, sneering at their perceived lack of intelligence, wit or ambition. You didn’t see that at all. You saw steadiness, a bedrock to build a person upon. It wasn’t a leap of faith. But society couldn’t be built around those who flew. Someone had to be waiting, down below, rooted to the earth, ready to catch falling angels.

The hat laughed.

“Better be…” Panic rose in your chest, a knot tightening inside of you. “GRYFFINDOR.”

They weren’t unkind to you. But you were the fawn in the pride of lions, the hovering figure in the background, the mute who never could make herself heard. Years later, with your personhood more fully attached, half of you wistfully wishes you could go back and do it better. Do it again. And yet, in your heart, you know there’s no value in looking backwards. You must journey on.

Head canons:

Trigger warnings for violence, war, alcoholism and mentions of abuse.

I. la petite fille

Your father - and you only have the confidence to say this now you’re a fledgling, grown to use her own voice - always cared far too much about what people thought. Cream of French society, darling of the elite, a career-hungry politician intent on climbing the ladder. Ironically, the sunshine in your soul can be traced directly back to him. And yet, where yours is woven into the very essence of your being, a warm touch to steady a storm, an easiness to still a monster, a brightness to diminish the darkness, his is a mask, a choking falseness. It was that, more than anything else, that scared you. He changed before your very eyes - shaking hands and kissing cheeks one second - to plotting behind their back the next. Nothing about him was real. He slipped between your fingers, never a solid thing to hang onto.

(The feeling, you know, is mutual. You were a grand disappointment. Too timid to follow in his footsteps and too honest to lie. You’re mostly strangers now, each unable to understand the other).

Your mother you know a little better. An English rose, she fell for your father’s charms one summer, a fling that never was supposed to turn into a marriage. You were the bump that interrupted those plans, the shame that would have befallen her good name. Both parties were hastily married and that was that. You’ve always wondered if she blamed you for it. Always been too afraid to ask. Your mother, you know, was miserable, far far away from home, shackled to a man she barely liked, forced to play the part of politicians wife. When she played it well, there was harmony in the household. But if she slipped up…all hell broke loose. And her, with her love of expensive wine and flirting with other people’s husbands, did mess up. You never witnessed the war inside of your father unfold, merely lived its after effects. Silently, you’d pull a blanket over your mother’s quivering frame and give your father his favourite cigar.

(As you grew, you became rather good at predicting the ticking time bombs. So before the storm ravaged, you nearly always scrambled to safety, grabbing your teddy bear and retreating to the back of the wardrobe. You never found a secret world in the back of there, but you did find safety - and that was a comfort in and of itself).

Peacemaker, your father would sometimes say with affection, your mother with scorn. You’d gulp and nod silently, opinions kept to yourself. Over time, a survival instinct became a pattern and from a pattern into a habit. Such things are hard to shake.

Ii. maison choisie

Your mother hailed from London’s big smoke and your father made Paris his home, so you’ve always been accustomed to cities - you could even say it’s in your blood. But nowhere ever felt like home more than your Grand-Mere’s home a stone’s throw from Amiens. Reluctantly, with great effort, your father would make the bi-annual privilege there, dragging your mother in tow. You never had to be forced, you galloped ahead, a country girl at heart. There was something so liberating about Amiens, especially in the summer, where the line between the fields and sky was impossible trace and wildflowers bloomed. Your grandmother was kinder than your parents, the only one who could pull you out of your shell - but even then, only when you were alone. More a hedgewitch than practiced individual, she used to set you upon a stool as she practiced her potions, entrusting you with the responsibility of stirring from time to time. She was the one who taught you that magic had more than rigid purpose, that it would be as beautiful as life itself.

She also taught you a second, valuable lesson.

You remember the very first muggle you met. You remember them because they waved joyfully as you stepped into the town square - and knew your father by reputation, your Grand-Mere by face. Your father, ever the diplomat, turned his face away, pretending not to have heard. You, bashfully, didn’t meet their eyes either. It was only later, when your parents had been placated by a bottle of wine or two, that your Grand-mere took you aside.

“Why didn’t you wave back?” Dumbstruck, you look for somewhere to scurry away and hide. Gently, she took your hand into her own. “I won’t hurt you chérie.”

“Maman et Papa didn’t.” And you never were awfully comfortable around strangers, bashfulness seizing control of you.

“They were wrong to.” Bopping your nose, your grand-mere drew giggles from you. “They didn’t wave because he was…” her voice strained over the English word. “A muggle. Have they told you not to talk to muggles?”

You shook your head.

“Don’t let them. There will be some, especially when you go to school, who tell you not to talk to witches who have muggle parents. You musn’t let them order you around. No one is any better or lesser because of the blood in our veins. Even muggles…they’re not witches. But they’re not the enemy. After all, if I never spoke to a muggle, I’d never speak to anyone! Never forget that.”

You promised you wouldn’t. You haven’t since.

Iii. armes de guerre Ultimately, it was war that drove you away from your beloved France and your cherished Grand-mere, who refused to stand down and flee when the German troops overran Amiens. You like to imagine she would not take a cowards way out, apparating whilst the others were rats in a barrel, trapped by the advance. You like to imagine she fought to defend her farm with every trick up her sleeve. You like to imagine she remained strong and valiant until the very end. But you’ll never know. The war snatched her from you, her story lost to the wind. All you had left was an owl from the French ministry and the personal condolences of the French Minister La Magie.

It took you a very long time to summon the courage to return. And even then, you couldn’t do it alone. Kenshin stepped in without being asked, the year after you left Hogwarts, stability at your side as you confronted the ruins of the happiest parts of your childhood. Violence had ravaged the landscape, scarring those who survived. Left with nothing, you saw the hallows of hunger in their sunken cheeks and poverty wrecked on their bones. Beauty had perished and been left to die. But in the ruins of her farm, you saw all was not lost. The Peach trees were still rooted, their bounty just as sweet. The goats, against the odds, made it out of the shelling alive. The old stool you had once assisted your grandmother had merely cracked, not splintered. Life went on - and through the cracks of darkness, light emerged.

You saw something of yourself in that light.

A hopeful creature, timidly taking her first steps into the world. A passionate believer in the strength of goodness, in victory and vanquish over evil. That progress, ultimately, would triumph. That even in the face of blasphemy, there is room for beauty, for brightness. The trick is in finding it and nourishing it, so that it may grow.

From seed to sapling to great oak.

The spark within yourself ignited that day. You felt your grandmother’s presence and smiled. You mourned, not in sadness, but in joy - for all the happiness that had been, for all that would yet come.

The world treads down on optimists, mocking their faith. But you’ve learnt there’s courage in that kind of relentless determination. That day, you felt its whispers in your soul. That day, you swore to let it go free.

Iv. soldat improbable The time that  followed ‘The Great War’ was supposed to be the long peace. If you look with hooded eyes, you’d find that in the cityscape of New York. Illicit drinking. Parties that last until dawn. Jazz bands. Woman’s emancipation. There is so much beauty, so much progress. But squint harder - and you’d find an underground war, a cold one, lurking just below the surface. It’s cause is more just than any muggle one ever fought. It isn’t a battle between great powers, princes and their cousins. It’s between right and wrong, progress and past, egalitarianism and inequality.

You know you’re not a likely candidate to fight in it. Most overlook you, sneering at your daintiness, soft smiles and open heart. They should understand that it’s what makes you strong, too. All you want is some small part in this larger battle, to be a part of the greater good. More than anything else, you’re a visionary, able to picture a world beyond this hatred. If you can see the brightness, you can be the brightness, a bedrock for those wearier than you, a guide for those who might come in your direction. You’re no warrior, not in the conventional sense, but not every battle should be fought with a weapon. Some need softer tools. You could be that person.

It is the sum of your duties with Dahlia. You see yourself in her, the girl you were but a few years ago, timid and unsure of the power in her own voice, but possessing a rosy heart. She deserves better. You long to show her that, to share your brightness and certainty in betterness, to pull her from the den of snakes and away from the Pride Society. You’re not asking her to fight, for the Coalition, for you…never. You simply want to help her. You would do anything - give her the means to runaway, a safe roof to shelter under, because you long to see her flourish. You’re just so afraid of failure…of failing her, your duty and yourself. The powers against you are overwhelming, those who wield the weapons lethal. The horrors she confesses terrify you. Light, as bright as it is, can be snuffed out. That is your greatest fear where Dahlia is concerned.

V. Coup de main As fun you’ll admit the parties Wren and Kenshin drag you out to are, you couldn’t carve a life out of them. Pleasure is for hedonists - and you do not count yourself among their ranks. When you found your own voice, the grit beneath porcelain skin, you were determined that it should count. You sought purpose in yourself, a way to matter. Almost as if you were trying to prove yourself…to yourself.

You found clarity in the most unlikely of places. A non-descriptive building in Queens - that would appear empty to an unsuspecting muggle. It’s purpose only became clear when you stepped inside, finding an overworked and overwhelmed refugee agency. In the aftermath of the great war, the creation of a dozen new states in Europe, thousands of wizards chose to emigrate instead, heading to the United States in search of a better life.

It’ll be tough work, the supervisor warned, staring you up and down, disdainfully. You bit your lip. Old habits die hard.

I’m tougher than I look. Promise. Your voice rang with clarity, in how true that statement had become.

You began volunteering on a trial basis. You distributed donations and held shaky people in your arms. You played with children and made puppets dance. After a fortnight, you began to offer your services as a translator, hoping to connect people into the interior of the US. A little while after that, you suggested you could be used by the organisation at large, rather than ad-hoc.

You felt a rush in your chest, advocating for yourself. You felt strong and brave and…right.

VI. bizarreries personnelles

Here are the little things that make you, you.

You never broke the habit of walking on your tiptoes, a legacy left from a childhood full of ballet dancing. Slender limbs, porcelain skin, your teacher used to sigh and wish you centre stage. Bashfully, you refused, your cheeks darkening. The spotlight was never yours to claim.

You cannot cook without making a mess. In your presence, the kitchen comes a bomb sight, ravaged by war. Nose flour-stained, fingers sticky, you chase Kenshin around the kitchen. You always catch him. He always allows himself to get caught.

Your pastries are infamous, light and puffy, the sort only the french know how to make. You refine your recipes with magic and tap your nose whenever anyone asks for their secrets. (Later, in fine ink, you pen them a letter, containing the details).

You despise British food. You ate dutifully at Hogwarts, too shy to even dream of asking for an alternative. Toad in the hole. Pies. Casseroles. Blegh.

You bit your fingernails until you were fifteen years old. Your mother enchanted them after that, exasperated at your lack of self-control. The spell has long worn off, but the manicure never lasts long. It’s a nervous tick.

You used to chew your hair. You threw off that habit by twelve.

Birthdays are your favourite times of the year. You take great pride in the gifts you give friends, a thoughtful gesture behind each one. You do, however, despise your own birthday. Being at the centre of attention makes you uncomfortable, you’d much rather spread and share the joy. Luckily, everyone’s learnt not to throw you surprise birthday parties. Instead, you have small, intimate gatherings.

(You and Kenshin have a ritual. A cupcake at midnight as eve becomes day.)

You’re hopeless at keeping plants alive. There isn’t a green bone - or thumb - in your body. You failed herbology miserably.

But you’re incredibly attentive when it comes to writing in your diary, daily and in french, to prevent eavesdropping eyes. A habit you haven’t shaken since your days in Gryffindor.

Your patronus is a lamb. An individual with a lamb patronus has a sort of natural innocence about them, and have a very serene disposition. They are kind to most, though they tend to have a difficult time reaching out and expressing themselves. They have a shy aspect of them that is not only social, but inner, which makes them hesitant to do many things. That said, they are very patient and calm creatures, which allow them to be workable with this nature.

You talk too much when you’re nervous. Far too much. About things that have nothing to do with anything. The weather. The latest show that opened on Broadway. The dance craze everyone’s talking about. Whether you should get a bob. You blabber, filling the space with…words. It’s endearing to most, but you despise it in yourself.

Your wand is 9 ½”, french-made and slim. Beech and Unicorn Hair. “The true match for a beech wand will be, if young, wise beyond his or her years, and if full-grown, rich in understanding and experience. Beech wands perform very weakly for the narrow-minded and intolerant. When properly matched, the beech wand is capable of a subtlety and artistry not seen in any other wood, hence its lustrous reputation.”

Languages are your forte. You have a knack for wrapping your tongue around them, inheriting a little of your father’s silver-tongued mantle. French is your mother tongue, but you’ve added English, Spanish, Italian and a pinch of Latin to the mix.

When you’re making a bold declaration or gesture, you rehearse the words in your mind the night before, like a politician preparing for a speech. You muse over the most effective way to get your point across, the comfort a person will be most receptive to, or whether it’s better just to hold someone and let them cry.

Connection expansion:

I. meilleur ami (Note: I’m happy to change all of this if the Kenshin player disagrees, this is merely my interpretation).

“Mon Frere…” Kenshin catches your grin. Deliberately, his mouth forms an ‘o’. “Ma sœur” You wince at the deliberately butchered pronunciation, but smile nonetheless. He’s always had a particular knack for that, drawing the happiness out of you. And you for him. The only label that fits your description is that of platonic soulmate. Or big brother. For truly, the lines between friendship and family have blurred, that you can’t tell them apart. Certainly, he feels more like family than your own blood ever did.

You met on your tenth day at Hogwarts, in the middle of Herbology class. Devil’s snare wrapped around your hand, you panicked, but were too shy to raise you concerns, suffering in silence. Where few did, Kenshin noticed you - and calmed you down with that bluntness of his. Before you knew it, you were smiling, then laughing and then free. You’ve been attached at the hip since - and shall be, until death do you part. The years did little to change the pair of you. Where some friends grow apart, you grew together, slotting like two jigsaw puzzle pieces. By third year, you were spending Christmas together, Kenshin sensing your unspoken reluctance to go back to France and face the holidays with your parents. After your first one together, you confessed the truth, honesty no one had even known. But most of all, he brought light into his life - different to yours, more brazen and bold. Like two twinned suns, strung across the sky. He is your confidante, secret keeper, joker, dance partner and now, roommate.

The latter made sense. When the two of you ended up in New York at the same time (it’s impossible to imagine the two of you oceans apart, impossible and terrible and dreadful), it made sense for the pair of you to find a two-bed apartment in Manhattan and make it your home. You are as compatible roommates as you are friends.

And, for the first time, he made a house a home.

II. le fruit interdit (Again, I’m happy to alter things dependent on plotting w/ Prosperina’s player) You shouldn’t want to kiss her. If you are the doe, she is the wolf - a huntress determined to strike clean.  In your heart, you know you should hate that dynamic, as you know you should despise her - resent the intimidation that rises through your bones, abhore the uncertainty she makes you feel.. You should be afraid. Very afraid.

And in so many ways, you are. You’re scared of what your attraction to her says about you, now that you are both girls grown, living with the choices you make as adults. You aren’t school children anymore, you aren’t praying to be noticed, doodling hearts with your names encased in it. You’re fearful of what might happen if you find yourselves alone, in a dark - or a light - room. But you’re more frightened, in a strange way, of nothing happening at all.

With Prosperina, there are so many unspoken anxieties, so many things you can’t possibly wrap your head around, that you can’t possibly know. Why she notices you now. When you began to crave the burn. If the risk is worth a moments ecstasy. How beauty could wear such thorns.

You know, now, how Eve felt, in the Garden of Eden. Just one bite, the snake hissed. Just one kiss, Prosperina whispers. You have no wish to shed your wings and toss yourself from Paradise’s gate. But she’s just as beautiful as any angel you’ve ever gazed upon.

In Character Paragraph:

Thursday night, 9pm sharp, the Yale Club. Dress elegantly. Heloise didn’t need to glance down at the invitation to know its contents, her heart having memorised them ten times over, skipping a beat each time it paused at a cursive. Even Prosperina’s writing was beautiful. She would have liked to say that the invitation was unexpected, out of the blue and had been firmly rejected. Yet, since she distastes lies, she could not.

Heloise had, however, made an attempt or two to excuse herself. Sending an owl in return, she had outlined her disapproval of the Pride Society and its galas in no uncertain terms. Prosperina had take an age to respond - deliberately, Heloise supposed, to make her nerves hop and jump. When she had, Heloise could almost taste her tone. It’s not one of those. It’s for charity. Don’t you support charity? She had caved. Heloise couldn’t be sure if that was strength or weakness, good or bad.

Three days later, another letter had arrived. Wear pink. It matches the blush on your face.

Stepping into the room, Heloise steeled herself, a picture of defiance in angel-white, beads reflecting the light back.

Not so long ago, she would have cowered, a ghostly slip of a thing, trembling in the corner. Glass of champagne stitched to her hand, she would have sipped until someone had taken pity on her - and even then, she might have fled. That worked under the assumption she plucked the courage to attend at all. Time sandpapered everyone, some for the better, others for the worse. Heloise liked to think she took after the former.

The first eye she caught was from across the room, her gaze instantly drawn to the slip of a girl shrouded by demons, unable to do anything but stare from her cage. Dahlia. It hurt to see her here, to see the shackles bound and to know she was powerless to help. To approach her, to take her hands into her own and wrap her arms around her shoulders was to betray her newfound friend, to expose her doubts to the world. There was cruelty in watching her suffer - but there was greater cruelty in taking a hammer to the foundations below her feet. That wasn’t Heloise’s job. Hers was to encourage Dahlia to flutter her own wings, to learn how to fly. All in good time. Smiling softly across the room, she let her face say what her tongue couldn’t. Stay strong, keep the faith.

The second pair were Prosperina’s - appearing from nowhere, sneaking up behind. Departing from conventions and norms, she didn’t bother with small-talk. “You look ravishing. But not as pretty as you would have had in pink.”

Tongue-tied, Heloise searched for a response. No one had the power to shrink her anymore, now that she had freed her voice from its restraints. And yet, that didn’t mean anymore wit had returned to it. In times like these, she prayed for Kenshin’s presence at her side, always ready with a sharp retort, the sort that drew him closer to someone. Or even Wren, brazen and bold, who spoke without thought. You don’t want to impress her! One voice screamed.Not like you imagined you might, a lifetime ago.

And yet, a little bit of her did.

Heloise spurned her interest. But a little bit of her didn’t want to do without it either.

“I - Thank you. You look…” Staring at Prosperina for the first time, Heloise felt the breath be stolen from her lungs. Divine. Enchanting. “Like a million bucks.” Slanting her voice into an American accent for comedic effect, she immediately regretted her choice no sooner had it been said. “And this…it’s certainly big. Very big. I suppose that’s good. The more people you can fit in, the more donations you can collect for charity.”

Prosperina laughed. Heloise was never sure if she was being laughed at or with. She preferred to think it was the latter.

“The committee had a few reservations. Something about…vermin control. The guest list is rather exclusive, you see.”

Confusion flashed across her face. It wasn’t as if New York was a stranger to rodents…but something about her tone, about the look on her face…made it clear that it wasn’t animals she was referring to. Without noticing, Heloise had become a player in the game. The smile froze on her face. “I sure hope that isn’t a reference to the architects who built the place. Or the perfectly nice people going about their business on the floor below. They’re not doing any harm.”

“Ah yes, the No-Maj’s, as our Yank friends love to say.”

Heloise tensed on the mention of that word. She despised it. No-Maj. So…derogatory. And rather rude. As if they didn’t count as people, or deserve respect, on the merit of something they didn’t have - and had no choice in having. “I hate that term. I hate - you shouldn’t talk about them like that. Nobody should. They’re hardly hurting anyone. And technically, this is their territory so really we should - be respectful.” Exhaling heavily, she steadied herself.

“Oh,” Prosperina leaned in, all smiles now, tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear. “You’re such a doll. I was only playing. But I can be nice, if you ask nicely.” Her touch felt like electricity, the sort of chemistry that couldn’t be duplicated or faked. When it was real, it was real. “I’ll go fetch us expensive champagne to make amends.” Half-purr, she broke off and Heloise dropped her gaze. “Pink Champagne, I think.”

Cheeks deepening into rosy-red, Heloise watched her depart, wishing she could look away.

Extras:

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[trees-for-rent]

uhhhh i was gonna make a post on my ig spam for the first time in a few weeks but for the first time in months bein like. venty. but my phone wont let me download ig so. this is that post i guess. word vomit below the crinkly line

postmoderndisco made new music! how do you cope with an everyday existential crisis? bro i am not doing good. i forgot to take  my meds (which i take inconsistently anywya bc adhds a bitch, bitch) for a whole day and by the time i remembered it was too late aaaand my anxiety came back and it was! awful! perfectly awful! all i wanted in the whole world was a cigarette but i havent smoked in months! and if i do ill disappoint someone whose opinion i value more than almost anyones in the world! and yes theres a hidden past anxiety there too! which they dont? know about? yayyyy!!!!! im already a fucking burden dude like all i do is get mad at little things and act cold to keep myself from getting hurt and i! dont! know! how! to! stop! it! and we even had a whole CONVERSATION about why ive been hurt or upset or bitter but nothings changed nothings come of it its been a week and literally fucking NOTHING has changed and now i doubly hurt and i feel like i what. have no right to be mad that nothings changed? that im being petty? that i wish. idk what i wish. i wish things were different. being alone is scary. being in this house alone with myself is scary. you have no idea what thats like, you have people around you, you hang out all the fucking time, i feel so far away and so fucking alone.

i miss the trees. i miss the air the smell of the ocean i miss walking down busy shitass cobblestone streets i miss walking to the subway home from work i miss having something to do that matters to someone else. i dont care and i cant bring myself to care about anything right now. im a husk im a shell i dont FEEL things i just feel bad. i just want one fuckng thing to be ok i just want a fucking hug i just want you to give me a fucking hug