#aurora's glare passed down to eve

[lavendersartistry]

Space Riders AU - @onyxonline

Tis the queen, Aurora!

Her hair flows like the princesses from MLP (she is very Luna-coded)

When she was Queen, she took a liking to the Astral Jellyfish from the gardens because they gave her peace

Her favorite bird were owls✨

[love-a-little-less-archived]

pause to ponder the miracles

a holiday secret santa gift for @hyperion-moonbabe-art3mis​

“Is me not liking you a problem, Princess?”

Clarke shrugged. “It could be.”

“Why?”

“Because I was planning on inviting your sister to come up with me for Christmas, and thought maybe, if you weren’t an ass about it, I’d invite you, too." Bellamy opened his mouth to say something but Clarke barrelled on. "So are you going to continue to hate me or can we get along? Because I know O wouldn’t want to leave you here alone for Christmas.”

Bellamy pursed his lips. “Yeah. Okay. We can get along.”

Modern AU where Bellamy hasn’t truly celebrated Christmas in years, and with the help of his sister’s university roommate, maybe this year can be different.

Rated teen+ for language

[ read on ao3 ]

-

So!! I don’t think anyone else has posted their fics for this event yet but I figured I had it done, might as well be the first. So a little backstory on this fic: I had originally planned out something entirely different. I was trying to stay in canon-verse but honestly I was having enough trouble with the holiday theme anyway so I gave it up and moved it to modern-verse. And the first couple things I drafted up I tried to make more focused on the group rather than one person but that also didn't work very well so I decided Bellamy might be a good pick for you. And as much as I tried to not make it romantic I- kind of failed. As you’ll see.

Anyway!! I hope this is holiday-themed enough for you!! I’m actually considering maybe writing a second chapter to this because I did really enjoy typing this out, but that’s iffy.

Merry christmas, dear!! I hope you like it ♥

@johnmurphyisqueer​

( I’ll post the whole thing below the cut, but formatting is probably better on ao3 )

-

“Christmas is like softly-falling snow that covers the world in a blanket of white so flawless and brilliant as to make us pause to ponder the miracle.”

― Richelle E. Goodrich, Being Bold

Bellamy had never had much of a Christmas.

Before Aurora had passed, they’d bake cookies and buy gifts and string lights on the walls, but after, it had mostly stopped. Bellamy was too focused on providing for himself and his sister to worry much about holidays. Sure, he’d buy Octavia a few small gifts, sometimes they’d go walk around neighborhoods and look at the fancy light shows some houses boasted, but it was never anything big for them.

This year was different.

It started like this: Octavia had just begun her first year at university, courtesy of years of saving up for it, and when November rolled around, Octavia came home to him for a few days. She brought a friend. Clarke Griffin, her roommate, who looked like she’d never struggled for a day in her life. Bellamy immediately disliked her. But for Octavia’s sake, he tried to mask it.

“So, Clarke,” he started, the three of them lounging in the living room, Octavia and Clarke with a bag of chips between them. “What brings you down here?”

She shrugged. “My hometown is more than a few hours drive from campus, didn’t feel like making the effort. Octavia invited me along when she figured out I wasn’t going anywhere.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t feel like going to see your family?”

“Nah. The only reason I’d want to go down would be to see my old friends, and not all of them would even be around. My mom and I don’t have the best relationship.” Clarke scrunched her nose. “ And I’d already told her I’d come see her for Christmas, so no reason to make the drive.”

Bellamy huffed. Clarke raised her eyebrows. “Something funny?”

Octavia was glaring at him, so he just settled back. “Nope. All good, Princess.”

Clarke didn’t seem to believe him. Octavia stood up, tugging Clarke with her. “Come on babe, why don’t we go hang out on our own?”

Clarke and Bellamy avoided each other for the rest of the day. And the day after that.

It didn’t last.

It was early, early enough that Bellamy expected to be gone for work by the time the girls got up. But then Clarke strode into the kitchen and rested her hands on the counter, hard eyes locked onto him. “Why do you hate me?”

And Bellamy, not at all prepared for that, just stared at her for a few moments. “What?”

“You heard me. What’s your problem with me?”

He turned around, taking a sip of his coffee. “I don’t know what you mean.”

She growled. He heard her shuffling around, and suddenly she was right in his face. Bellamy jerked back, almost spilling his coffee. So maybe he didn’t like her, but her glare was downright terrifying.

Bellamy clenched his jaw. “Is me not liking you a problem, Princess?”

She shrugged. “It could be.”

“Why?”

“Because I was planning on inviting your sister to come up with me for Christmas, and thought maybe, if you weren’t an ass about it, I’d invite you too.”

Bellamy’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What? Why?”

Clarke sighed. “Because I like your sister, and I know she’s never had much of a real Christmas. And because I’m nice, I was going to invite you so you could not be a sad person who spends Christmas alone.”

The only thing he could say to that was “oh.”

Clarke didn’t seem bothered by it. “So are you going to continue to hate me or can we get along? Because I know O wouldn’t want to leave you here alone for Christmas.”

Bellamy pursed his lips. “Yeah. Okay. We can get along.”

Clarke grinned. “Great! I’ll bring it up to Octavia later today. Now tell me if you have anything other than that straight black coffee you’re drinking-”

And despite himself, Bellamy could tell she was already growing on him.

︵‿︵‿୨✼୧‿︵‿︵

Though Bellamy offered to make the drive alone, Clarke insisted that she come and pick him up. Said it wasn’t too much of a detour. He knew it was easier to just agree. There was no arguing with Clarke.

And so that was how Bellamy found himself draped over the backseat of Clarke’s car, the two girls chatting enthusiastically in the front seats.

“Bell, are you excited?” Octavia asked, turning around. “We’re going to have a real Christmas! With a tree and presents and lights and cookies!”

Honestly, he was more nervous than excited. He wouldn’t know anyone there other than Octavia and Clarke, and the latter he still didn’t know very well. But he let Octavia’s joy seep into him, smiling back at her. “I am.” And because he was far too polite, he addressed Clarke too. “And thank you, Clarke, for inviting us.”

She waved him off. “Oh, it’s helping me too, don’t worry. Hopefully it’ll get my mom off my back about how I need to expand my social circle now that I’m in uni. She’s been bugging me about it forever.”

He hummed. “What year are you?”

“Sophomore. Majoring in creative arts, minoring in a couple medical classes. Mostly because of my mother.”

He raised an eyebrow, though she couldn’t see. “Sounds controlling.”

“Ugh. Very.” Clarke clenched the steering wheel tightly. “She was so angry when I said I was majoring in the arts. Said it wasn’t a career that would get me very far in life. She’s always wanted me to be a doctor like her.”

He chuckled. “You don’t strike me as very doctor-esque.”

“Oh, she’s better than you’d think,” Octavia butted in. “I got sick for a few days in the first weeks, and Clarkey here had it down. I barely even had to do anything.”

Clarke shrugged. “Not a bad skill to have.”

“I probably would have died without you.”

“It was a stomach bug, O.”

“Still!”

And suddenly he wasn’t as worried about the trip as he was before. Not if it was going to be like this.

︵‿︵‿୨✼୧‿︵‿︵

Abby Griffin was a very intense woman.

She and Clarke exchanged quick hellos, Abby going to hug her daughter, but even Bellamy could tell it was awkward. When she addressed him and Octavia, it was very stiff, professional, and Bellamy could see why she and Clarke didn’t get along. The two women were opposite personalities, sharing the same stubborn streak that likely played a big part in their strained relationship.

Another thing he noticed that was very opposite to Clarke was the house. From what he knew of Clarke, she was not a very organized person. Her car was a bit of a mess, a lot of her clothes were stained with paints, and she didn’t put much effort into her appearance. Abby’s house was huge and pristine, everything sparkling clean, the house itself matching Abby’s intenseness. 

The woman sat them on the couch and went to get them drinks. Bellamy looked around the huge living room. “This where you grew up?”

Clarke shuddered. “God, no. My mom moved in after my dad… died. He never wanted anything big or fancy. I lived here for about two years before moving out. Though honestly I tried to spend as much time out of the house as I could. It’s almost too much.”

Octavia leaned closer, keeping her voice low. “You didn’t tell me your mom was rich!”

“She’s a world-class surgeon, I thought that was a given.”

“I didn’t expect this!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Clarke shrugged. “I wasn’t planning on spending much time here anyway. We’ll probably spend Christmas day here, but the real fun will be on Christmas Eve. One of my high school friends is a master at throwing parties. You’ll have the time of your life, trust me.”

Neither Blake could reply as Abby walked back in with drinks for each of them. Bellamy wasn’t sure what it was, but it tasted fancier than anything he’d ever had. 

“So.” Abby sat down on one of the plush chairs across from the couch. “Why don’t you two tell me about yourselves? Clarke doesn’t talk much about school.”

Octavia spoke up first. “I’m her roommate. Majoring in video production.”

Abby nodded, not seeming very impressed. “And you?”

Bellamy shifted. “I’m Octavia’s brother. I’m not in uni.”

“Oh?” Abby’s face shifted a bit at that. “Did you graduate?”

“Never went.”

“I see.”

“Okay!” Clarke interrupted. “O, Bell, how about I get you two set up in your rooms and we can go out somewhere?”

Octavia jumped up, eager to get out of the room. Bellamy nodded, taking one last sip of his drink. “Sounds good, Princess.”

Abby’s scalding gaze fell onto him as the nickname fell from his mouth, but he couldn’t care less.

︵‿︵‿୨✼୧‿︵‿︵

“So where are we going?”

“To a local diner,” Clarke said. “I invited some friends, too. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Clarke, I have been dying to meet your friends after all the stories you’ve told me,” Octavia responded. “Which ones?”

“Raven, Murphy, and Emori.”

Octavia clapped her hands together. “I am so excited to meet Raven. She sounds like a badass.”

Clarke laughed. “Oh, she is. I have no doubt you two will get along like a house on fire.”

And after meeting her, Bellamy knew they would.

Raven was full of energy and possibly the most sarcastic person ever. She had a brace on her leg, but it didn’t stop her from bowling Clarke over with a hug when they met outside. “Clarke! It’s been so long!”

“Hey, Rae!” The blonde laughed. “It has! How’ve you been?”

“Fantastic. Who are they? Friends?”

Octavia was practically beaming. “I’m Octavia! Clarke’s my roommate. Heard a lot about you.”

Raven preened. “Of course you have, I’m awesome.” She leaned over to Clarke. “Why didn’t you tell me your roommate was this hot?”

Clarke chuckled. “Jealous, Rae?”

“Of you? Never.” Raven reached out and took Octavia’s arm. “Come on, hot stuff, let me buy you a drink.”

Bellamy was smiling widely at how happy his sister was. Clarke bumped his shoulder, making him look down at her. “Come on. Your sister will be fine with Raven for a while. Come and meet Murphy and Emori.”

He couldn’t help the surprise that shot through him. “You don’t want Octavia to come with us?”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “When will it get through your thick skull that I actually like you? Come on!”

Bellamy flushed at that, trailing after Clarke into the diner. She didn’t even have to look around, heading straight towards a table in the far corner. There were two people there, a man who looked like he wanted to murder everyone in sight and a woman with kind eyes and a tattoo covering half of her face.

The woman lit up as she saw them approaching. “Griffin! Damn, it’s good to see you!”

“You too, Emori,” Clarke said, leaning down to hug her. “You and Murphy doing well?”

Emori’s smile split her face. “We just bought an apartment together!”

“Oh, that’s great!”

“Girls, if you could stop being sappy for one minute,” the man, most likely Murphy, butted in. “Who’s this bitch?”

“Oh!” Clarke grabbed his elbow, pulling him to sit down beside her opposite of her friends. “This is Bellamy. I invited him along for Christmas.”

“Guess I’ll be stuck seeing you around then.” Murphy looked him up and down. “He your boyfriend or something?”

Bellamy blushed, and Clarke sputtered. “What? No! Honestly, I barely even know him that well- he’s just my roommate’s brother.”

And it shouldn’t mean anything, but Bellamy feels disappointed anyway. He’d hoped they were friends on their own now. He thought that was what Clarke had meant outside. Apparently not.

“Roommate’s brother, huh?” Murphy just nodded. “Kinda disappointed. Dude looks like he’d be great in bed.”

Emori smacked his head, both Bellamy and Clarke going red again. Murphy just cackled. “What? You gonna tell me that’s a lie?”

Emori huffed. “You need to learn decency.”

“If you expect decency from me then you don’t know me as well as I thought you did.”

“John.”

“Okay, okay,” Murphy raised his hands. “Have it your way.”

“Great,” Clarke interrupted, her cheeks still flushed pink. “How about we get some food and we can catch up?”

Emori elbowed Murphy before he could say anything. “That sounds wonderful, Clarke.”

︵‿︵‿୨✼୧‿︵‿︵

Bellamy had to admit, Clarke’s friends were growing on him.

“Bellamy, man, back me up here,” Murphy insisted. “Tell these two gremlins that their movie taste is shit.”

“Says the man who likes to watch slasher films in the middle of the night!”

“It’s better than the comedies you like to watch? In what way are those entertaining?”

“In what way is watching people get their brains ripped out entertaining?”

Beside him, Clarke giggled, nudging him with her elbow. “Whose side are you on?”

Bellamy just scoffed. “Neither. Both genres are mediocre at best.”

Murphy turned to him, slapping his hand down on the table. “Oh, and what do you watch? Fucking documentaries?”

...he did, yes, but he wasn’t going to admit that now. “Just saying, if you like horror, psychological is better. Slasher films are just blood and guts. No suspense.”

“Suspense is bullshit, who needs the creepy buildup? Just get right into the action!”

“Glad to see you boys are having fun.”

Raven slid into the bench beside Emori, Octavia dropping down beside Clarke, who gave her a smirk. Leaning over, Clarke said to her, loud enough that the whole table could hear: “have fun on your date?”

“Our date was definitely more enjoyable than whatever you idiots got up to,” Raven responded for her, wrapping an arm around Emori. “Bet you were wishing I was here.”

Clarke snorted. “Never any fun without you, Rae.”

“Of course not, I’m the life of the party.” She took a sip of Emori’s drink and crinkled her face. “You losers didn’t even get good drinks.”

“Just because Emori is boring doesn’t mean the rest of us are, Reyes,” Murphy said, earning another elbow to the ribs from his girlfriend. “And who are you to judge us? You drink pepsi.”

Bellamy watched as the two descended into arguing, as seemed to happen often with this group. And even if he was a bit excluded, he still found himself having more fun than he’d had in a while. It was nice, being a part of something again. Hanging out with friends. He had never had much time for that, between working and taking care of Octavia.

Maybe he could find that again.

︵‿︵‿୨✼୧‿︵‿︵

“So did you have fun?”

Bellamy looked up from his spot on the couch to see Clarke wandering over to him, dressed in pajamas, hair dark and damp. She looked adorable. Not that he’d tell her that.

“Yeah, I did. Your friends are an interesting group,” he said as Clarke sat down on the arm next to him. From the sound of running water, he guessed Octavia had hopped in the shower after Clarke. Abby was gone when they got back, most likely at the hospital, but nobody was complaining much. “You grew up with them?”

“Kind of. We all got stuck together in high school, and we just clicked. Before that, I’d only had one friend. His dad moved though, and I never found out where to.” She had thrown an arm over the back of the couch so she could lean back, and her arm pressed against his shoulder. He could smell the shampoo she’d used. Clarke didn’t seem to notice their proximity, but he was hyper-aware of it.

“You seem to work well with them. You’re all very rowdy. Very fun. You seem like you would’ve been a trouble-making group when you were teens.”

Clarke chuckled. “Oh, we were. The friends that’ll be hosting the party, Jasper and Monty, they were always sneaking drugs and alcohol for the rest of us, and we’d always get into trouble with them. Maybe it was that common factor that had us all getting along.” 

Bellamy huffed. “Honestly? When I first met you I thought you’d be a goody-two-shoes.”

Clarke laughed. “God, no. Maybe when I was younger I was. But after my dad died, my mom started getting on my nerves, trying to control my life, and I wanted to be rebellious. So I did everything I could to piss her off. I still kind of do, to be honest, but I’m trying to get better about it. I don’t want to hate my mom for the rest of my life.”

Bellamy was silent for a moment. “You want to know another thing I thought when I first met you? When you said you had a bad relationship with your mom, my first thought was that at least you still had a mom.”

Clarke’s face fell. “Oh, Bell…”

He shrugged. “I hated you because you seemed like a privileged princess. And I guess in a way, you kind of are, but you’re more than that. You have your own problems too. It’s not your fault your mom is rich.”

Clarke offered a small smile. “I don’t blame you for thinking that. With how you grew up, you have every right to hate me for the way I live. For how lucky I am.”

He shook his head. “No. You didn’t choose your life any more than I chose mine. We didn’t choose the family we were born into, but we can choose what we do with our lives after that.”

Clarke moved her arm to wrap around his shoulder, pulling him to lean against her. She rested her cheek on top of his head. “I’m glad you don’t hate me. I’m starting to like you.”

He chuckled. “I’m starting to like you too, Princess.”

She sighed. “That’s sticking, isn’t it?”

“You bet it is.”

They laughed together, and Bellamy could feel something warm bubbling inside him. Maybe he was starting to like her a bit too much.

It was only a few more days, though. He could bear it.

︵‿︵‿୨✼୧‿︵‿︵

When they pulled up to the house, Bellamy could already tell he was in for a ride.

It was decked out in crappy Christmas decorations, blow up characters, window stickers, hell, there was even a garden flamingo with a santa hat on it sticking out of the snow by the mailbox. Octavia was out of the car barely a second after Clarke turned it off, and Bellamy laughed at her eagerness. Clarke smiled back at him, pushing open the car door.

“Look who it is!” Someone cheered when Clarke opened the door. A scrawny dude bounced up to them, wrapping Clarke up in his arms. “Missed you, Clarkey!”

“Missed you too, Jasper.” Another guy came up and hugged her, looking like possibly the sweetest person Bellamy has ever met. “Hey, Monty!”

“I’m so happy you’re back!” Monty beamed. “Oh my god have you heard the news?”

Clarke beamed back at him. “What news?” “Harper and I got engaged!”

“Holy shit, really?” Clarke hugged him again, squeezing hard. “I’m so happy for you! I’m invited to the wedding, right?”

“Of course you are!” A woman walked up to them, pulling Clarke away from Monty. “We’d never leave you out.”

“So who proposed to who?”

Monty blushed. Harper just laughed. “I proposed to him.”

Meanwhile, Jasper had made his way over to where he and Octavia were hanging by the door. “Clarke! You brought new people!”

Clarke perked up, moving back to grab both Bellamy and Octavia by their arms and drag them forward. “Yeah! Come on, I’ll introduce you to the group!”

The main room was already a bit of a mess, a poorly decorated Christmas tree tucked in the corner. Bellamy saw the familiar faces of Raven, Murphy, and Emori, who waved at them eagerly. Raven hopped up and sauntered over to Octavia, slinging an arm over her shoulder. Octavia grinned. “Hey, bitch.”

“Okay!” Clarke let go of Octavia as Raven pulled her over to sit beside her, instead wrapping both hands around Bellamy’s arm. “Guys, this is Bellamy, and that’s his sister Octavia. They’re friends from uni.”

There were a few choruses of ‘nice to meet you’ thrown out. One dude came up and extended a hand to him, which Bellamy took. “Hey, I’m Nathan Miller, but most people just call me Miller. It’s nice to see a new face around here.”

Bellamy shook his hand. “Happy to be here.”

“Kind of surprised Jasper hasn’t broke out the alcohol yet,” Clarke, still wrapped around his arm, commented. “He’s usually way too excited about it.”

Miller just chuckled. “Yeah, Maya’s been keeping him entertained. She’s his new girlfriend, by the way. A sweet girl. I’m not sure how she and Jasper work romantically, but they seem to have a good thing going.”

Clarke raised her eyebrows. “Really? Well, I’m happy for him. I haven’t seen him in any serious relationships since- ever, I think.”

“Well, he’s a bit intense, takes someone special to handle him.”

Bellamy snorted. “No offense, but everyone here is a bit intense.”

Clarke huffed out a laugh. “Think you can handle it, Bell?”

Bellamy made an unsure face. Miller slapped his arm. “Don’t worry, man, we aren’t that bad. It’s a bit overwhelming at first, but you get used to it. If you can handle her, we can’t be much worse.”

Clarke snorted. “What are you implying, Miller?”

He raised his hands up in surrender. “Nothing bad.”

“If you say so…”

“You know what we should do?” Jasper stood up from the couch beside a timid-looking woman. “We should go outside!”

Raven wrinkled her face. “Jas, it’s like, supremely cold outside. There is snow on the ground.”

“Exactly! Come on, where’s your inner child? Don’t you want to go play in the snow?”

Raven grabbed her thigh, lifting her leg. “You see this brace? This thing gets insanely stiff in the cold. I’m not going.”

“Come oooooon,” Jasper whined. “Stop being such a party pooper! Where’s your sense of fun?”

Octavia grabbed Raven’s hand, pulling her onto her feet. “I think it’s a great idea!”

Raven made an incredulous sound. “This is betrayal!”

“You coming or not?”

Raven glared at her before sighing. “Fine.”

Jasper whooped. “Yes! Octavia, I love you already!”

The group laughed, all seeming to have been spurred on by Jasper and Octavia’s eagerness, and Clarke pulled Bellamy towards the door, neither having shed their coats or boots since coming inside. He stumbled along behind her, laughing, and though the chill was sharp, he was warm with happiness. 

The rest of the group piled outside behind them, and Jasper and Octavia immediately set to work rolling a snowman. Bellamy and Clarke began to roll another section for the snowman when a snowball hit Clarke in the back.

They both looked back to see Raven cackling at them, a cocky smirk set upon her face. Clarke scooped up a wad of snow, throwing it back, but it went awry and Raven just held up a middle finger.

Bellamy crouched down to make his own snowball, and with Raven distracted by Clarke’s efforts to hit her, he threw. It hit Raven right in the shoulder, and she let out an indignant cry. Clarke cheered before Murphy came up behind her and shoved snow down the back of her coat.

And suddenly everybody had been sucked into the game.

Octavia hit Bellamy on the side, and when he went to retaliate she darted behind Emori, who Bellamy then hit in the stomach with a snowball. He got pelted with so many snowballs, but he threw at anyone who was in range, and Bellamy felt happier than he had in a long time. He and Octavia would do this sometimes when they were younger, and it reminded him of that. He couldn’t stop smiling the entire time.

Eventually, it died down, and though by now they were all thoroughly soaked, they still attempted to finish the snowman that had been started before Raven made the first attack. Even with so many people working on it, it wasn’t the best, especially not when no one had bothered to get supplies from inside, but they gathered some little rocks to use as the mouth, eyes, and nose, and it was good enough.

So after they all wandered back inside soaked and shivering and promptly collapsed in the main area. Bellamy fell onto the floor in front of the couch, leaning back onto Clarke’s legs. Emori plopped down next to him and flashed him a grin, eyes flickering between him and Clarke. Her implications were clear. Bellamy shook his head, and Emori rolled her eyes.

Jasper, still somehow bouncing with energy, declared they were going to have a Christmas movie night. “You came on a good year,” Emori said beside him. “Usually Christmas Eve is a lot more chaotic than this.”

He chuckled. “Miller said the same thing. He blamed it on the new girlfriend.”

Emori snorted. “Maya? It could be, yeah. I think Jasper’s trying to impress her.”

“I can’t imagine him being any worse than this.”

“Oh, god, this is probably him at his best.” Emori nodded to Monty. “Monty used to be the same way, until Harper. The girls keep them reined in most of the time. They probably would’ve accidentally blown themselves up by now without Harper.”

“That’s more Raven’s thing. They’d end up getting arrested for theft, probably.” Clarke leaned down behind him to enter the conversation, and he could feel her hair brushing the top of his head. “How many times has Jasper shoplifted?”

“Every time he goes to any store.”

Bellamy laughed with them, once again feeling intense gratitude to Clarke for inviting him.

“Okay okay shut up! We’re watching a movie!” Jasper yelled. “What’s a good Christmas movie?”

“Home Alone!”

“Fuck no!”

“What’s a Christmas movie that isn’t a comedy?”

“Literally none of them!”

“There are some!”

“Like what?”

“Oooookay, I’m deciding!” Jasper declared, picking up the remote. Everyone grumbled at that, but Bellamy was just amused. He felt something tap the side of his head and tilted his head back, seeing Clarke grinning down at him. He smiled back, face bright with happiness. This wasn’t like any Christmas he’d ever had, but it was his favorite already.

Jasper turned something on, Bellamy wasn’t really sure, and then he and Monty went into the kitchen to get everyone drinks. In true Christmas spirit, Harper yelled after them to make hot chocolate and not just grab some alcohol. Murphy huffed. “You really trust them with a stove?”

“They’re grown men, Murphy.”

“They don’t act like it.”

Maya trailed after the boys into the kitchen, and a little bit later they came back with cups of hot chocolate for everyone. Bellamy took a sip, the scalding liquid instantly warming him up. Someone turned the overhead lights off and the holiday lights on, illuminating the room in red and green. This was truly Christmas.

Bellamy wasn’t paying much attention to the movie, more to the quiet conversations that were constantly going on, whether it be Raven and Murphy arguing over something or Jasper making snide comments, but there was always the low buzz of talking, never silence. Not that he would have expected it from them.

A hand wove into his hair, and Bellamy turned his head to look back up at Clarke. She had a blanket tucked up to her chin, her mug held tight in one hand, and her eyes shone. She looked so content and relaxed, snuggled up on the couch, a hand combing idly through his hair. 

“You look happy,” she murmured. “Happier than I’ve ever seen you.”

He smiled. “I am happy. I’m glad you invited me, Clarke. This is amazing.”

“This is the best Christmas Eve I’ve had in a long time,” she sighed. “You should come next year, too.”

Bellamy blushed. “You want me to come back?”

“Of course. You’re fun, when you aren’t hating me.”

“I don’t hate you anymore.”

“Good. I didn’t like it when you hated me.”

Bellamy let himself indulge as he grabbed her hand from his hair, tangling their fingers and pressing a kiss to her cold skin. She giggled, and he looked back up at her, cheeks hurting from smiling so much.

He hoped he could come back next year. And maybe every year after that, too.

[not-so-humble-captain]

The Dual Deaths of the Lady Spider

TW: death, sadness, being buried alive, implied cannibalism, acts of violence, and suicide

Leslie dies, eventually.

The sounds of violence fill her ears and Leslie grins, whipping around the corners of the ship. It’d been a while since there’d been a good mutiny, it hadn’t been 10 AM for a while now. They’d missed it.

The Lady Spider had never really had an issue with mutiny. At the end of the day, she was the captain. She led the crew, had brought them all together and still kept them tied together in her web. Mutiny kept things exciting, kept them all on their toes.

Leslie spins around at the half dozen people still actively pursuing her, smiling manically. They fire into the group, and they fire back. A bullet finds home centimeters from Leslies mechanized eye and she falls, using her last moments to flip off whoever shot her.

——

She wakes surrounded on all sides by hard packed earth. What the fuck. On instinct she opens her mouth to yell at the crew but it only fills her lungs with dirt. They’d cough if they were able to.

Thus begins the cycle. Die, revive, struggle, die, revive. Leslie does not know how long it takes, only that it takes long enough that the carefully crafted metals of their arms are worn down and broken by the time they punch through the surface of the dirt to pull themselves through. Leslie kneels over, coughing, pulling air back into their lungs for the first time in who knows how long. She stands shakily, thrown off balance by the lack of weight on her back.

On top of where she was buried, on top of her grave, is a tombstone.

Here lies Leslie, the Lady Spider, the Captain of the Warren Less-Than-Three. She is loved, they are missed

——————

————-

——-

—-

-

“Hey idiots! It’s your captain speaking! Guess who you left on planet for thousands of years?” Leslie shouts into the Warren Less-Than-Three. She receives no response.

“Hey! Answer me!”

Silence.

Leslie walks through the halls of the Warren Less-Than-Three, wearing practical shoes for once. She’d lost the spider limbs climbing out of the grave they’d dug for her. It’s a little difficult to pull a dozen limbs out from under six feet of dirt, especially when you’ve only got until you suffocate again to work with. But they’d made it out, they were here after all, even if they were down eight limbs.

“Annie?”

Click.

“Ralphie?”

Click.

“Nebul-”

Leslie stops dead in her tracks. Slumped over the counter, half decomposed, is the ships chef.

“What the fuck.” What the fuck. “What the fuck- Warren?” A distant creaking is the only response.

Leslie stumbles backwards from the kitchen, moves back into the hallway. Hearing the resounding creak of the Warren Less-Than-Three they walk through the silent halls of the ship towards the pilots room. What happened to her crew.

In the pilots room the Warren Less Than Three opens the camera feed. Creak’s been preparing this video for a while. Leslie sits down in the pilots seat, where she hasn’t had to be since they’d picked up Yoltic. Sits down, and watches.

They watch parts of Percy get brought back onto the ship, watch the crew sit him in the corner of the kitchen. The crew waits for him to come back, years pass and he never does.

Eshen is consumed by Better Odin and under any other circumstance she would have laughed, instead they curl inward and fight back tears.

Nikolophice does not escape the watchful eye of the Warren Less-Than-Three when they step out the airlock past 10 PM.

Leslie watches her crew slowly disappear from the dinner table. Watches leftovers pile up in the fridge. Watches Nebula as ze continues to cook for a crew of twelve, attempting to pretend that nothing has changed.

She watches as they pull Nicolophace’s body out of space, covered in surgical scars and metal grafts. Carmilla. They never did manage to kill her, why didn’t they mange just that.

They see their crew die, one by one, just as the mechanisms did.

Achilles is brought back beaten. Cyrus drowns themself in alcohol. Eve leaves the ship with one last goodbye.

The ship lands on Lelipad. Leslie screws her right eye shut but the left- her fucking mechanism- remains stubbornly open, fixed on the camera feed. The ship lands on Lelipad.

Leslie sees Ralphie spend decades crafting intricate tombstones, each an ideal reflection of each member who has passed away. She watches them build her own in mute horror. They’d thought she was gone.

They watch Ralphie leave the ship and never return.

Nebula does their best, for it’s credit. But theres only so much you can do as a chef on a ship made for twelve. He forgets, eventually, to keep up on maintenance. After centuries, ze simply falls.

Leslie, the Lady Spider, Captain of the Starship Warren Less-Than-Three, watches herself walk back in through the doors and sobs.

The captain goes down with the ship.

——————

————-

——-

—-

-

Leslie steps foot on the ship for the first time in thousands of years. They finally found her. Leslie grins, slow and venomous, and walks further into Carmilla’s ship.

She’s got one chance at this. They’re no scientist but they know that if they die now they are not coming back in anything worth talking about. Especially here. Her hand clenches around the hilt of the knife Eve made her a millennia ago. She was finally going to put the damn thing to use. No one was left to tell her it was a terrible idea to try and kill a vampire, no one was left to care if they failed.

Carmilla was waiting, as she always was, smiling condescendingly- looking down at them. Looking down at her own fucking creation. Looking down at the people she cursed with immortality.

“Lost the legs this time?”

“Fuck you.”

Carmilla smiles, leans against her hands. Leslies grip on the knife tightens again.

“You’re really trying again? We both know how that went last time.”

“What the fuck did you do to Nik.”

“Oh nothing- just had some fun.”

“They’re fucking dead.”

“They seemed to be under the impression that you were as well.”

Leslie strikes, lunges towards the doctor. Carmilla sighs, moves to block- but she’s fought this fight before. This is an old battle, started back when the doctor stuck a chunk of metal in her eye and left her in a burning building on New Texas. For the first time, her blade hits home. Carmilla looks surprised.

“Congratulations,” she says- but her voice is strained through the ever present condescending confidence and Leslie smiles.

“Thank you.” And the knife twists.

It’s easier than she’d thought to get Carmilla pinned up against one of the many lab tables, scratching at their arms- attempting to pull the blade out of her chest.

“Why did you do it?”

“Do what.” Carmilla hisses- glaring at the lady spider grinning at her.

“Make us,” Leslie says casually as she sinks the blade in another inch. Carmilla coughs, chokes around her words-

“Immortality gets lonely- I wasn’t about to die anytime soon.” The doctor is smiling, even as Leslie sinks Eve’s dagger in her heart. Leslie leans close, grins back.

“Careful what you wish for Doc.”

And she jerks the knife up.

——

“What do you think Warren? Time to go soon?” Leslie speaks to creak as she washes dishes from dinner time. She’s got leftovers in the fridge now, of course, which she plans on eating before she truly leaves- but she’ll ask Warren Less-Than-Three for later. They hear a creak and smile. Time to go.

Leslies truly alone now. They found the Aurora years ago, empty beyond a wooden husk and deactivated. Carmilla had been the only one left, but Leslie wasn’t exactly planning on letting her regenerate.

They dry another dish, walk out of the kitchen and into the Warren Less-Than-Three again. This isn’t the first time she’s been alone on this ship. It’s going to be her last.

——

The fridge is empty now.

Leslie sits in the pilot’s seat, leans back against the Warren Less-Than-Three, and smiles.

“Ready to go?”

A creak resounds through the ship. Leslie reaches forward, pulls a few levers, presses a button, and shuts down the Warren Less-Than-Three for good.

As the oxygen slowly depletes on the ship, the Lady Spider, Captain of the Warren Less-Than-Three, closes their eyes.

It’s 10 PM somewhere.

——

Leslie opens her eyes to glaring whiteness. They stand to their feet, look around to spot- Her crew. Leslie grins, walks towards them- pushes tears down from where they were beginning to form.

“Really didn’t think I’d end up here with the rest of you.”

[ask-the-infiltrators]

Last minute business...

Featuring Ace and Aurora from @ask-acepony

Hearth’s Warming eve was here once again and everypony was spending time with their families and friends, save for a unicorn clad in dark purple armor. He trod through the ice and snow as he held fast to a neatly wrapped gift held aloft in his magical grasp. It was wrapped in green wrapping paper and tied up with a pretty looking pink bow with white hearts stamped all over it.

Normally a package like this would be tucked away in his saddle bags, but that right now had its lips pursed, barely able keep its contents from spewing forth. He had to walk slowly to just keep everything under wraps. Regardless of his pace, it was going to take him a little bit of time to reach his destination as he had a bit of a harder time finding his way around due to all the snow. Large open expanses of white just seem to confuse him, though unlike his last snowy excursion, he was smart enough to have a map with him this time.

He eventually came upon a house and rapped on the door. However, the pony that greeted him at the door was not the unicorn mare that he was expecting, but a hot pink earth pony with a mane of multi colors that baffled him even more than trail of snow behind him. He cleared his throat and addressed the mare, “Umm… Hello ma’am? I’m here for a Miss Aurora. Is she home?”

The earth pony mare raised an eyebrow at him and stated, “Yeah, but she’s kind of busy at the moment. May I ask what she did?”

“Did?”

A wave of realization crashed into him, though it was more like a truck, as he remembered that he was here in armor. There was no doubt in his mind that a random guard coming up to your door asking questions about those in your home would raise some suspicion. She even gave off the feeling that this wasn’t the first time any guards have came knocking on this door. For the sake of both of their sanity's, he quickly dispelled the air of trouble, “Oh, no ma’am, you have me all wrong here. I am just here for a friendly chat, but if she’s too busy, can you tell her Platinum came by to drop this off?”

He levitated the present into sight and held it out to the mare, “I’ll be back after the holidays are over and she has more free time.”

The earth pony mare accepted the gift and acknowledged him, “I’ll let her know. Thank you.”

Before she could close the door and allow him to leave, a familiar voice could be heard behind her, “Platinum?”

The pink mare was gently shoved out of the way as the unicorn mare stepped into the doorway from within the depths of the home, “Thanks for getting the door Ace, I will handle things from here.”

Ace, the earth pony mare with the odd mane looked between the two of them briefly before seeming to look through him, an act that he was not lost on as she dismissed herself, “Not a problem. I’m going to go put this gift with the others.”

As the mare left the two of them at the door, she gave him one last look as she vanished into the background. He asked, “So that is Ace, she is a lot more… Interesting, in person.”

Aurora nodded as she looked at where Ace had slunk off too before looking back at the guard, “She’s not normally like that, actually. Do you think she knows?”

He shrugged, “About us? Unless you told her, I am not sure how she would. As far as she and everypony else should be concerned, we are just friends.”

Aurora frowned, “I haven’t told her yet… Not sure when really, if at all.”

“I understand. Take your time, I am willing to wait for you.”

Aurora blushed lightly, getting nearer and nearer to the shade of red of her Hearth’s Warming themed coat, “Thank you. I’m happy to hear you say that, and may want to hear more, but i’m afraid we’re all a little busy right now. In a little bit, we’re going to be taking a train to Manehatten to spend time with my Uncles and spend the night over for Hearth’s Warming.”

He sighed, “I figured you’d have plans for the holidays. Wish I was able to get time off sooner, but things have been swamped in the archives.”

He was going to give another reason why he was late to their appointment yesterday, but she put a hoof on his mouth to silence him, “Don’t worry about it, I understand how hard work can be, but at least you made an effort to be here.”

Now it was his turn to blush as she removed her hoof from his mouth. He was going to speak, but his words were caught in his throat. Noting his silence, she motioned for him to come in, “You know, I can’t exactly send you back out into the cold after you came all this way just to see me, come inside, we can talk over a little tea, but then I am afraid I must be off.”

Platinum was surprised by her offer, expecting her to be too busy to ‘have a chat’, a sentiment he made known as she left his horseshoes at the door, “But what about your train to Manehatten, you’ll miss it!”

Aurora shrugged as she lead him into the kitchen, where she levitated a pot over to the sink and started to fill it with water, “There is a reason why we leave early in the day, or at least try to. There will be other trains I assure you, but as for meeting with you, the window is already small enough, is it not?”

He relented, though he still held onto a pinch of guilt as he was taking up her precious preparation time, “Business before pleasure with you then? Let’s get through this quickly, I don’t want to eat much more of your time.”

As the pot met the stove, Aurora asked, “You mentioned in your letter that you wanted to discuss the paperwork for the magic wings?”

He nodded as he placed his saddlebags on the table. Off came the latches and out came the very same wings they were discussing as well as a folder no doubt filled with all the legal documents they would be discussing. Thankfully, he assured her that they won’t need to go through all of this, “I just about have everything done, I just need to make clear some of the concerns the guard had with their design and obtain some signatures.”

The mare chuckled, “Is that all? I don’t see why you’re so worried about time then.”

Platinum sighed as he opened the folder and pulled out a piece of paper, “I’ll start with probably the most baffling of documents.”

Aurora gave him her full attention as he continued, “It would appear that there is some competition in similar wing designs used by a Mister Borealis. Have you ever heard of them?”

Her curious and overall positive expression immediately soured at the mention of that name. She was outraged, and rightfully so, but not at him. She gritted her teeth and took the offending document from Platinum so she can see it for herself, “What the buck is this?”

At least she wasn’t mad at him… Though she was still mad, “I thought I had been rid of that name for years.”

“Care to explain?”

She glared daggers at him, but as she noted his worried expression, her features softened. Clearly he didn’t know about this, as it was a part of her life she was purposefully keeping hidden, but of course it would come up in some way, it always does…

She sighed, “I am Borealis. Or rather, I was. That part of me is long dead, and yet it still haunts my every hoof step.”

Aurora tossed him the paper which he promptly placed it back into the folder, “I see…”

The mare took a seat at the kitchen table and looked over the beautiful looking wings that the two of them made together what felt like so long ago and stated coldly, “Platinum, I would like that name removed from my documents. I don’t want to have to deal with it again in the future.”

He nodded, clearly seeing just how much this bothered her, “I’ll do what I can. Being an archivist has its privileges.”

“Thank you.”

The two of them stayed there in silence for a few minutes more until the pot on the stove started to whistle. This prompted Aurora to rise from her seat and prepare their tea cups, at which point Platinum elected to continue their discussion, “Ok… The next concern that needs to be brought up is the worry of possible magical radiation given off by the complex layering of spells and enchantments the wearer my encounter.”

As she poured a cup for the two of them, she asked quizzically, “Radiation?”

He chuckled softly as if he expected her to know what he meant, “I know right? My enchantments are air tight, but they still wanted to be sure to tell you about that. It’s silly, really.”

Seeing as he didn’t explain it outright, she figured it would be best to just drop it. After all, he says there is no trouble there at all, so why worry about it? She blew upon and took a sip of her tea, savoring the flavor of ginseng as it passed her lips. Setting her cup down gently on it’s trey, she asked, “What other ‘absurd’ worries do the guards have?”

“Well…”

Oh no, perhaps there actually was something to worry about. She raised an eyebrow at him and motioned for the stallion to continue, and continue he did, “I was able to deal with a lot of the paperwork myself, but there was one thing I really could not do myself. They asked if these wings could be used as prosthetics.”

Thankfully for her, she had some time to think about this as Rarity had mentioned it a while back, she knew just what to ask him, “If a pony were to wear them, is there any string of spells or enchantments that could allow them to be used as such?”

Platinum nodded hesitantly, “Actually yes, though, Earth ponies and Unicorns lack the proper muscles and natural magic to do that. There is also an issue of durability, as I doubt these ones could match up with the rigorous conditions a Pegasus would be using them in.”

She glanced at the wings resting on the table briefly before looking at him again, “But it is doable? I see.”

Platinum extended one of the wings and looked them over, much like the day when they had their first date, “Of course, all of these things can be dealt with during the enchanting process, I just need to know before hoof if they are meant for fashion or function. My question to you is, would you be fine with such an option, as I have little doubt it would bring a lot of attention our way.”

He was right! Creating a new wave of realistic prosthetic wings that can match the durability of the real deal would take equestria by storm. There may be no turning back if they go that route. In fact, even these wings as they are could cause a buzz too. Can she handle the pressure of the public eye she sought so hard to escape now that she is more experienced and older? She nervously sipped on her tea as she thought this over.

Noting her behavior, he went over to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder and offered her some words of comfort, “Listen, Aurora. As a friend, I would encourage you to think long and hard about this. As a business partner, i would encourage you to do whatever it takes to stay relevant in the industry. But…”

He drew her close so that way they would be muzzle to muzzle, “As somepony that cares for you very much, I want you to know that no matter what choice you make, I will support you all the way.”

A blush grew on her muzzle until she was a bright crimson, at which point the two of them leaned in and exchanged a long chaste kiss. By the time it broke, their teas had gone cold. They didn’t care, as they were in good company, though they were not truly alone. The Pink Pony before, Ace, was standing in the entryway to the kitchen. Just how long she was standing there the couple couldn’t tell, but judging by the expression on her face, it probably was a while.

The two of them chuckled nervously as she spoke, “I hate to ruin this moment, but everything is packed up and Bee is starting to get anxious.”

That is right, Aurora didn’t tell them about the plan to wait! They are waiting for her! She stood up and sighed, reluctantly shrugging off Platinum’s grip on her, “Sorry. I’ll be right there.”

Ace nodded and slipped away leaving them alone once again. The taller mare groaned as she sat the cups and pot into the sink, “I am sorry Platinum, but we’re out of time.”

He chuckled softly as he started putting all of ‘his’ stuff away in his saddlebags, “Don’t worry about it. We both knew our time together was limited this time anyway. Have fun.”

After a few moments and quick thinking, she asked, “Hey Platinum, why don’t you come with us? You said you don’t have any other business for the holidays, right?”

He nodded, seeming to pick up on what she was throwing down, “Yeah, I’m free… I would be honored to spend the holidays with you.”

He bowed, leading to an embarrassing moment where he accidentally fell over due to his loose saddlebags shifting its weight around, prompting Aurora to giggle lightly as he flailed around, “Here, let me help you.”

She helped him to his hooves and he gave her a kiss on the hoof in gratitude, “Many thanks my princess~”

Now there was a pet name that wasn’t thrown around all that often, but every time it left the stallion’s lips it brought a blush to her face. The fact that he would address her as such despite not being royalty spoke volumes as to how he felt about her and was really touching. He continued as he pointed to the exit, “Allow me to repay your kindness by paying your way to Manehatten.”

Normally she would have insisted on paying for the trip herself like the independent mare she is, but she got the feeling she wasn’t going to win that fight, so instead, she stated, “Why thank you… We can finish up business once Hearth’s Warming is over.”

They nodded in agreement and headed out of the kitchen and soon, the door to the house.

[idolizerp]

LOADING INFORMATION ON CELESTE’S MAIN DANCE, VOCAL SEO YOOJUNG...

IDOL DETAILS

STAGENAME: Holly CURRENT AGE: 23 DEBUT AGE: 19 TRAINEE SINCE AGE: 15 COMPANY: 99 SECONDARY SKILL: N/A

IDOL PROFILE

NICKNAME(S): Baby Doll, Yooj. INSPIRATION: BoA and Lee Hyori are arguably her biggest influences and have been equally mentioned in her earlier days following Celeste’s debut. She cites their magnetic stage presence and an electric kind of charisma that is hard to replicate. On a lesser frequency, Yoojung credits her older sister, Yuna, for her encouragement and how she wouldn’t have had the courage to audition without her support. She has also named Beyoncé and Ariana Grande as her current inspirations. SPECIAL TALENTS:

Boy group dances / freestyle dancing

Flexibility - the limbo queen

Drumming - self-taught and learned on a whim back when she was 16 and bored with the likes of piano and synth keyboards. she’s by no means a pro, but she’s quite good at it

NOTABLE FACTS:

a SOPA graduate, chose to defer university in order to dedicate all of her time to training and preparing for Celeste’s debut. has decided to forego university completely to focus on her career.

has an older sister, Yuna, who has gained notoriety for her versatility as an actress and for her beauty; twin older brothers (Hajoon is currently a pediatric cardiology resident at Seoul National University Hospital, and Taejoon is currently serving in the 707th Special Mission Battalion); and a younger sister, Yumi, a third year high school student.

possesses raw, unpolished talent in fashion designing. often reveals snapshots of her original designs on instagram when seoul fashion week rolls around.

known to be friends with some choreographers affiliated with a renowned dance studio in seoul. she has also appeared in some youtube dance cover videos.

a lover of tangerines and clementines. devoted fans have taken to gifting her some at fansigns just to watch her smile sweetly in gratitude. she has once mentioned offhand that her grandparents owned a tangerine farm in jeju island during an interview and stated that she often misses tangerine picking, something she used to do as a child during summers. 

IDOL GOALS

SHORT-TERM GOALS:

Celeste’s first win, garner more individual exposure and be recognizable and marketable on her own, build her portfolio by making waves and being booked for fashion magazines, get 99 ent. to allow her to have her own youtube channel to upload dance covers and original choreography / to connect with fans by showing them short behind the scenes videos showcasing her daily life offstage.

LONG-TERM GOALS:

Venture into fashion/modeling (cf), diversify into being acknowledged as a trendy fashionista and booked for cfs (particularly with beauty and makeup brands or be a brand ambassador, potentially retire in five years from being an idol and launch her own fashion brand.

IDOL IMAGE

GIRL INTERRUPTED.

there’s always this peculiar, flip-flop kind of duality that keeps the fans split on which side of yoojung they prefer.

some like holly, who burns up the stage with her charisma—it’s probably that little bit of grit, a hint of danger; rebellion all wrapped up in a slender body and in the curve of her lips.

others like her off-stage more. likes yoojung, who dotes on fans, collects fan letters and small gifts, signs autographs until her fingers cramp. the girl who treats those who raised her up and put her on a pedestal with the kind of reverence that radiates from within. gratitude and whole-hearted sincerity pouring out of her in weekly vlives and instagram postings. her diehard fans praise her for her generosity and altruism and, sometimes, it is enough to make some people second guess who she really is.

.

when celeste debuts, they tell her to be sweet. innocent. so she bursts on stage with a sunny smile and moon crescent eyes. she doesn’t so much as ignite on stage as she does explode, with the kind of passion only young girls who have dreamt of singing on stage to an ocean of lightsticks and a crowd of devoted fans screaming her name possess.

it doesn’t take long for her fans to fall in love with an illusion.

to them, yoojung is soft peals of laughter, shy eye contact with fansite masters before the cameras start recording performances, and an endearing awkwardness that fans noted during fansigns. they watch her bloom when fans gift her small trinkets and letters. watch her eyes light up and water, smile half shy, half sugary in an attempt to comfort crying fans who have come a long way to see her. they watch her high-five and hold hands, sign autographs, photobooks and albums as the years pass by and the protectiveness only grows.

to them, yoojung is a shy, innocent flower who has so much love to give, who shines as soon as the stage lights flicker on and the cameras roll. a young girl on the cusp of womanhood. a flower not yet in full bloom.

when 99 ent. starts sending her on variety shows, she does as she’s told and charms her way through probing questions, laughs at lame jokes, and lets herself be coaxed into spilling stories and spoiling comebacks. on air, she lets her shyness become her shield. lets it transform her into someone a little less out of reach, more human, likable. lets the hosts and the fans spin an image worth a thousand words for them to eat up.

two years later and the shy baby doll image begins to eclipse her, just as celeste struggles to find their footing as other girl groups forge ahead. yoojung realizes that she still hates being second best and not being good enough. realizes she’s no longer content, doesn’t want to settle anymore.

twenty-one and yoojung opens her eyes. blooms.

her metamorphosis begins small: she starts speaking up a little more; her voice louder, no longer pitched soft at a whisper; her eyes colder, posture straighter; starts subtly challenging hosts with perfectly timed comebacks to joking jabs and scripted prodding.

soon, her fans note how she’s begun to take initiative, remarking on her growing up, maturing from a shy girl to a young woman who has realized her potential, confidence gained along the way.

all the while, her shy, too sweet persona corrodes as the bitterness and envy begins eating her up inside. like this, yoojung vows to cast away the image that has begun to outgrow her, warping her into something—someone—she no longer recognizes or wants to acknowledge.

it only backfires when her newfound confidence is perceived as arrogance. earns her an article or two from variety show appearances she makes, photos of her biting her lip or staring a little too hard (she wasn’t wearing her contacts that day, everything and everyone was a little blurry. her squint coming off as a glare without context) at the hosts make their rounds. it’s not serious enough to warrant a witch hunt or for her to be publicly crucified, but it garners minor backlash and 99 ent. starts benching her from variety shows when antis blow up gossip sites commenting on her change in attitude and condemning her for daring to act above her station. in the wake of criticism, 99 ent. makes her apologize and sends her back to image training classes and encourages—demands—her to dial back a little. to reflect.

in the months that pass as yoojung bites her tongue and lies low, celeste comes back and goes just as quietly, their impact lukewarm at best. their popularity neither progressing in waves or regressing in a downward spiral. they simply exist, stalled at a precarious middle-ground. with the public’s attention on the likes of cherry bomb!, jawbreaker and aurora, her attitude scandal slowly gets buried, snuffed out by bigger, brighter news sensations.

all the while, under lock and key, the innocent flower of yesteryear withers and in its place is eve biding her time.

GONE GIRL.

when 99 ent. sits her down again after announcing celeste was undergoing another image change, one that would mirror heaven’s safely sexy roots, yoojung smiles, realizing her time has come.

because pretending is easy. using what she has easier.

they don’t tell her sex sells in as many words. instead, her stylists start picking outfits that lean a little more daring, a little more risque. plunging necklines and shorter hemlines do nothing but accentuate how much her body has developed. if she were kinder and more naive like she had been walking through the doors for her audition, yoojung might’ve balked at the subtle encouragement to flaunt her body for views, for likes, for the sake of popularity.

but yoojung is no longer there. that last bit of innocence she’d held onto all those years gone after years of toiling with her girls, struggling to find their footing in an industry that banishes second bests and nugus as easily as rookies were made.

older now and wanting to finally shine, she can’t afford to linger somewhere mediocre any longer.

so she welcomes the subtle shift in image, the change in sound, the quiet sacrifice she makes for a chance to propel herself to the top.

and holly she becomes.

she is bold red lipstick and sultry stares decked out in short skirts, fishnets, and sky high heels.

the baby doll—confident, daring, deceptively sweet. a living, breathing rose with thorns.

IDOL HISTORY

baby’s breath.

her parents already have their hands full with three children by the time yoojung is born prematurely in the dead of the night.

too small, too sickly, too weak. that’s her designated first impression.

she might not make it, the doctor tells her mother quietly as the nurses swaddle her in blankets and whisk her away to be saved.

her mother cries, but nods in resignation, hands folded and head bowed in a prayer.

(hours later, yoojung fights her way into recovery. a natural-born survivor.)

she takes to growing up like a fish to water. young and oh so eager to learn, yoojung absorbs everything around her like a sponge. always bright-eyed, gummy smiles, and grabby hands, she’s mastered begging to an art form.

attention comes easy when all she has to do is come home with a scraped knee or a bruised elbow. her family dotes, coddles, and loves her to the point of suffocation.

and yoojung basks in it. all the while, running full speed ahead, chasing after her siblings. always subconsciously half a step behind.

anemone.

she’s six when she’s stripped of her status as princess of the seo family when yumi is born. instead of opening up presents, she’s got her eyes glued to the baby girl her mom coos at, all heart eyes, and tender smiles.

her family forgets to wish her a happy birthday amidst yumi’s toothless grins and soft cries for attention.

it’s the first time they forget. (it won’t be the last.)

chrysanthemum.

every year after, she has to share her birthday. share the cake, share the attention. no longer the baby of the family, yoojung is expected to become a role model for yumi. kind, caring, and loving. the kind of sister yuna had been for her.

and soon, gone is the tolerance for temper tantrums. her parents grow stricter, affection a little stale in favor of caring for yumi, who’s sick, weak, and needs a little more love.

go study, yoojung-ah. you should practice with your sister. look, your hajoonie oppa’s going to the library, why don’t you tag along? read some books? yoojung-ah, why can’t you be more responsible like taejoon? yoojung-ah, why can’t you–?

it becomes a mantra of comparisons. broken record after broken record. and yoojung grows to resent how small her presence has gotten in her own home. eclipsed by the shadows of her siblings and rendered just shy of insignificant. invisible. practically a spare.

it hurts.

orchid.

puberty hits her hard, but not ungracefully.

she shoots up like a weed; body slender, the telltale hint of curves hidden beneath laundry soft t-shirts and high-waist shorts.

yoojung’s up to her elbows in grease and dish soap, singing about a romance she never had with her sister manning the cash register at their family restaurant when an opportunity comes knocking.

it’s a business card from a talent scout and an encouragement to participate in an audition.

at 13, she’s never considered being an idol was a viable option for a career choice. traditional and wholly conservative, her parents would never let their daughters parade around in booty shorts and crop tops, singing about playing hard to get with bad boys. but the thought sticks, piques her interest, and keeps her up at night.

let’s audition, yoojung begs her sister.

so, they do.

petunia.

yoojung doesn’t get chosen. yuna does.

she’s the whole package: doe-eyed and girl-next-door, your first love kind of beautiful, a bewitching kind of aura when she plays the piano, and the sweet voice of an angel.

of course, she’s chosen.

yuna’s presence is too bright for anyone not to notice. at 16, she was already turning heads with her soft smiles and gentle demeanor. at her side, yoojung is barely noticeable in all her gangly prepubescent glory–no longer a little girl but not quite a young woman, dangling on a precarious in-between.

she’s not enough, she’s told. not pretty enough, not sweet enough, not talented enough. yoojung bites back a sob when they tell her yuna is. a superstar in the making.

marigold.

her parents are none too happy about yuna becoming a trainee in a well-known entertainment company, but congratulate her all the same. it’s what she wants and as loving as they are, they could not begrudge yuna of her happiness.

with two sons going off to university and their eldest daughter whisked into practice room after practice room, a once lively household dwindles down to something stale and much, much quieter.

yoojung’s left to help out her mother at the restaurant and babysit yumi. her mediocrity in school is noted and becomes a pressure point of tension. she’s not book smart like the twins and yuna. academia, a complete bore to someone who has been languishing in the shadows ever since she turned six years old. not quite here and not quite there. always not good enough. a perpetual almost.

she doesn’t know what she wants. doesn’t know what her dreams are. a life of fame and fortune sounds like a far-fetched dream once upon a time. but that too feels like nothing more than a mirage. close enough to touch but not close enough.

daffodil.

she gets accepted to sopa, starts using her savings on classes at a local dance studio, and fights back.

with practice and a steadfast passion, yoojung claws her way from barely adequate to polished with back-to-back visits to the studio, dancing until she collapsed, panting for breath, adrenaline pulsing beneath her skin. coin noraebangs become her own version of a practice room, singing herself hoarse until she can nail an almost perfect 99 singing tears.

it’s the round of applause in the dance studio after a well-executed choreography routine that becomes her first taste of recognition.

addiction comes easy and yoojung wants the spotlight. wants something to call her own. wants to be good enough. better. the best.

so, she auditions a second time. far from the company her sister is thriving in.

and makes it in.

camellia.

as a trainee, yoojung refuses to pander to ass-kissing and outright bullying, she works to befriend the misfits and the outcasts. forms her own network of has-been’s and second-best’s and molds herself into a leader.

undeterred by harsh criticisms at evaluation and wholly determined, yoojung worked and worked and worked until she thought she could rise above everyone else. the need to outshine, to prove herself, becoming her biggest motivator.

look at me. look at me.

hydrangea.

four years ghost by and yoojung has forgotten what it feels like to dangle on the precipice. competition is fierce and it turns everyone into an enemy in disguise. behind closed doors and in front of mirrors, she practices and perfects the art of smiling with no teeth. eyes a touch cold, backhanded compliments hidden behind words of encouragement and borderline praise, yoojung finds herself shedding her naivete in the corridors of 99 ent., flushing her insecurity down the toilet in between meals, and hiding her fear and anxiety behind a perfect posture and a head held high.

she knows in a cutthroat industry like this that survivors don’t make it to the top without sacrificing a little bit of something.

in yoojung’s case, she sacrifices it all: the once tight-knit bond with her family (now borderline estranged), her network of best fake friends, and her own innocence.

anything for a taste of fame. anything to have something that is hers. all hers.

when celeste debuts and she stands in the spotlight with four other girls (her newfound comrades in a new war to the top), yoojung smiles.

begonia.

they start off cute, girly and yoojung has to grit her teeth through the sugary pop and the teeth-numbing aegyo that belies her desire to break the mold. celeste’s attempt at filling an already saturated market backfires when they’re up against a powerhouse like aurora. they’re not quite as polished and lack the pristine, innocence that the other girls possess. it’s not hard to recognize the moment 99 ent. realizes that too and decides to change tactics, borrowing cute eccentricity off msg’s cherry bomb! and failing yet again.

it’s harder still to find a focus point in a market with so many other girl groups vying for attention. but 99 ent. has never been one to give up on the prospect of challenging the status quo. so they take their notoriety (skives off the poizn’s grittiness, imperial’s versatility, and heaven’s sensual undertones) and channels it into what was to be celeste’s new sound and image: safely risque, quirky sensual with just the barest hint of girl going on mature woman.

it doesn’t work wonders, but it begins garnering them a fuller house and louder cheers. their fanbase grows, slowly but steadily.

they’re not quite at the top (they’re far from it, really). an almost shaky middle of the road.

rose in full bloom.

except middle-ground isn’t exactly where she envisioned her group to be.

for a firecracker like yoojung, she’d expected a gunshot of a comeback. not something lukewarm and almost forgettable with the reign of cherry bomb!, aurora, and the newly reviving jawbreaker.

with no first win in sight, yoojung begins to worry. celeste is all she has. going back to square one or going back home are out of the question. and while a part of her clings to that last bit of hope, believing that 99 ent. has aces up their sleeves, her greed tells her to sacrifice them, to think for herself.

celeste is floundering nearly five years into their debut and yoojung has had enough.

she remembers toiling and trial and errors in the practice rooms all those years ago. remembers worn out shoes and matted hair and sweaty t-shirts. remembers the fire that burned. remembers the goosebumps that rose on her skin at the sound of applause and raucous cheering.

wonders where that girl had gone. wonders if time and consistently not being enough has snuffed the passion right out of her.

wonders if 99 ent. notices. if they can tell that she’s growing restless, greedy.

wonders if anyone realizes the yoojung of the past has died and in her place was someone who only had her own interests at heart, who saw celeste as both ball and chain; a merciless tether tied to her ankle by lingering loyalty and sentimentality and a morbid anchor symbolizing togetherness and mutual struggles.

wonders if it’s time to let go, to let them burn.

wonders if it’s okay to fly free now. solo and on her own. a phoenix rising.