#even DUPONT whos not even IN a relationship he's a single father but the mother of his children he's so like

[bubblyernie]

literally every single one of my ocs (who are dudes, or masc-leaning) are the most doofy-aaaa boyfriend ever. like without fail i don't think i can even write a guy who, regardless of composition and personality, will turn into the most stuttering man-loser the second he's confronted with the sheer beauty/levelheadedness/competency of his boyfriend/wife/girlfriend/whatever

[2manyfandoms2count]

Love you (not) - Chapter 1

I can't believe it's already @marichatmay again... What a year. This time, I won't be jumping in completely blindly into the challenge, I've got it mostly planned out in a single fic, which starts on the same day as Weredad, but embraces the fake-dating shenanigans because yes. This relationship will be mutually unrequited from our beloved characters' point of view, until it's not anymore.

Hope you enjoy!

Read on AO3 | Next

---

Chapter 1: In which the author sees the fake dating shenanigans canon provided and deems they weren’t enough

“That’s because I’m… In love with you!”

The words still echoed in Marinette’s head hours after they’d been said, and covering her eyes and ears with her arms as she laid in bed did nothing to make them less loud.

Stupid words coming out of her mouth unbidden. Untrue, too.

She ought to have told Chat Noir that she’d had every right to be standing on her rooftop at night, after an Akuma had destroyed her room. She totally would’ve been allowed to feel slightly claustrophobic and want to take a breath of fresh air; or even to want to check that everything was back to normal.

But noooooo. She’d had to declare her love for him. She grunted at the thought that saying she had a crush on him would have been more than enough. He would’ve gotten the gist, he could’ve turned her down gently, and they could have marched on as if nothing had happened. It wasn’t like they ran into each other that often - like this, anyway.

But now Chat was coming over for lunch with her family, and he’d surely want an explanation. How could she backtrack? How could she explain to him that she’d blurted the first thing that had come to her mind to avoid him discovering that she was his superhero partner, whom he happened to be in love with, without telling him that part? You don’t just accidentally confess your love to someone instead of saying you were just hanging out on your balcony.

She tossed in her bed. She had to solve the situation. She had to come clean to him at lunch, at least to clear her conscience.

Maybe sleep would help organise her thoughts so she wouldn’t say anything stupid.

If she could only get the damn words out of her head.

---

“That’s because I’m… In love with you!”

Saying Marinette’s words had been unexpected was probably the understatement of the year, Adrien thought as he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.

His first thought after seeing her had been that she must’ve been a fan. Of Ladybug, at least, and maybe of his. Given how close she and Alya were, he wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d been out to catch something to contribute to the Ladyblog. After all, her balcony had been a particularly excellent spot that night to snatch some close-up pictures of the heroes, and maybe even an interview.

Not to mention the other reason that explained her presence, which he’d realised after giving it a little more thought: they’d been fighting quite literally on her doorstep.

But even if he could’ve thought about it for ages, there was no way that he could have even suspected the real reason she’d been waiting on her balcony. That she was in love with him. With Chat Noir.

But then again, he thought as he shifted to his side, maybe it did make sense. It kind of explained why she didn’t have a significant other (not that girls needed a boyfriend or a girlfriend, but couples were pretty common at Françoise Dupont). Given how kind and amazing Marinette was, and how many people had had crushes on her (Nino being a fine exhibit A), Adrien had kind of wondered why she didn’t have people flocking around to ask her out. Her being in love with Chat Noir was new information for him, but maybe it was common knowledge, and he just hadn’t paid enough attention.

It wasn’t like they talked about their feelings much at school, he supposed, wondering if that meant she didn’t trust him enough to confide in him. He shook away the small wave of sadness and... was it yearning? that overcame him at the thought, and recentered the topic.

The point was, he’d been too taken by surprise by Marinette’s confession to process it in time and turn her down in the gentlest way possible. Or even at all.

If anything, he’d dived straight into a potential relationship by accepting lunch at her parents’.

That didn’t send out the right message at all.

He had to fix it. Soon, before it got out of hand, so as not to lead her on. He had to do it the next day.

Sleep would help him make his rebuttal as smooth as possible.

If only he could just get her words out of his head.

---

As she stood guard on her balcony the next morning, threatening grey clouds hanging over the horizon, Marinette entertained the hope that Chat Noir wouldn’t come over at all, which would solve the problem of coming clean to him, and the newly formed outrage that Chat Noir was falling in love way too easily these days. So much for the strength of his love towards Ladybug, really.

It seemed a little cowardly for him not to respect his commitment to lunch, but it had been pretty last minute, and kind of surreal; she would have understood, and she was sure her parents would have as well. It wasn’t like Chat Noir wasn’t one of the superheroes of Paris; she would have been ready to sign him a waver as Ladybug saying he’d been dealing with some Very Important Business on the other side of town if the topic ever came up with her parents.

This is why she was almost surprised to see him vault across the rooftops, clearly making his way towards the Dupain-Cheng Bakery, just as she’d been ready to give up on his presence. She grunted internally as Tikki gloated, and made her way downstairs to greet him.

Tom stood proudly next to the table, which she’d laid out for four people. She hid an embarrassed eye roll. It almost felt like he was the one who was waiting for his date. At least, he seemed a lot more excited about it than she was.

“Come on Marinette, open the door for him!” He all but pushed her towards the entrance.

She did as she was told, and had barely had time to register Chat Noir’s greeting when she was pushed aside, Tom engulfing her guest in a bear hug. She facepalmed. This was not sending the right message at all .

He’s going to think that I stayed up all night gushing about him to my parents, and that I’m convinced that I’m going to marry him even though we’ve only talked like twice before, this is a disaster, he’s going to think I’m insane and -

Her inner freak out was interrupted by her mother reminding her father that Chat Noir did need to breathe, which coincidentally shut down any analysis of why Chat thinking she was insane would be such a terrible thing, when really, sending him running would solve most of her immediate problems.

She was suddenly facing her partner with a mind void of all social etiquette. How did one greet someone one had recently declared their love to? Was shaking hands appropriate? Or was it more of an elaborate fistbump situation? This situation would be a lot less awkward if my parents weren’t staring and- woah, what does he think he’s doing?? She thought as she saw Chat lean forward with his lips puckered up. Surely we’re not there yet?! Even if I told him I loved him?

She froze as his face approached hers, her lips automatically kissing Chat’s cheeks when she realised he was simply going in for the classic, friendly, Parisian bise . Thank goodness , she sighed discreetly as they pulled away.

“Here, I wasn’t sure what to bring,” Chat Noir scratched the back of his head awkwardly as he handed her a rose.

A pale pink rose, she noted as she took it. Symbolising gentleness and gratitude. He wasn’t jumping into this relationship like he did with Ladybug. There was hope yet.

“Thank you, that’s very thoughtful of you,” she replied with a smile, interrupting her father before he blurted out whatever well-meaning, but unhelpful and slightly embarrassing speech he had lined up. She turned towards her parents. “Maman, Papa, is lunch ready yet?”

“Not exactly, I’m sorry, Mr. Chat Noir, I wasn’t exactly sure when you were arriving…” Tom replied a little sheepishly.

“That’s perfect! I mean, it’s fine, Papa, don’t worry about it. Can Chat Noir and I go upstairs for a bit?” Marinette laughed awkwardly.

Sabine smiled knowingly, and put a hand on her husband’s arm. “I think that’s a great idea. Tom, why don’t you prepare some vol-au-vents for them to snack on?”

“Of course!” Marinette watched her father rush around the corner and pile the amuse-bouches on a plate. “You’ll have to tell me what you think, I tried a new recipe in honour of young love.” He shoved the plate in Marinette’s hands and all but pushed them up the stairs. “Have fun, you two! And leave the door open!”

Marinette ran up the stairs and put the plate down on her desk before hiding her face in her hands, mortified. “I’m so sorry about my Dad.” She peeked at Chat Noir from behind her fingers. “He’s not usually this intense with people he’s just met.”

“I kind of like it, actually.” Chat smiled. “It’s nice that he cares.” He picked up a vol-au-vent and studied it, before gobbling it down. Marinette could have sworn that his gaze had darkened.

She played with a piece of fabric that poked out from her project hamper, unsure what to say next. Chat ate another pastry. In the silence that surrounded them, the slight pitter-patter of the rain that had finally broken out on her roof was deafening.

“Listen, I need to tell you something-” They both started simultaneously.

“You go,” Marinette gestured towards him.

“No, you,” he gestured back.

“You’re the guest, you should go first,” she encouraged him.

Chat Noir took a deep breath and accepted to bite the bullet. “Listen, Marinette, I really like you. You’re amazing. To be honest, I’d love to know you better…” He scratched the back of his head.

Marinette had bitten the inside of her cheeks as she kept a smiling façade during his praise, but she had to interrupt him. “Chat… I really don’t want you to feel uncomfortable, I put you on the spot last nice and I’d really hate you to think that because I... have feelings for you,” she winced as she spoke, even though she knew deep inside that there was no better way of putting it and that she had to stick with her lie, “you have to go out with me or something, or even stay here.”

“There’s no obligation, I promise, Marinette,” Chat said earnestly as he looked at her put on a brave face. It was just like her to put her feelings aside if it could make him happy, but he couldn’t just leave. He had to make sure she was alright. She deserved that much, if not more. She was such a great friend.

“But really, if you have better things to do, I’d totally understand it…”

In the peculiar light of the spring shower, Marinette looked particularly anxious and tormented, Chat Noir noted. Leaving now, even though it would be best in the long run, was just a recipe for an Akuma. And if she did indeed get akumatised, he would feel like he’d planted a seed, and their environment had quite literally immediately gone to water it.

“If it’s what you want…” He probed.

Marinette realised that Chat looked very dejected at the idea of leaving; the way he gazed longingly at the vol-au-vents made her question if her partner ate enough as a civilian. She sighed as she saw that outside, the rain had intensified. She really couldn’t let him go now. Cats didn't mix well with water.

“ A table! ” Her mother’s voice came exactly at the right moment.

“I’d be very happy if you stayed.” She smiled, extending a hand towards him.

“Really?” His tone was hopeful as he walked towards her and took it.

“Yeah.” She led him downstairs, shaking her head imperceptibly at the thought that she was probably making a big mistake by doing this.

Seeing him laugh out loud at her father’s bad jokes, tears streaming down his face as he held his sides, before proceeding to eat like he hadn’t in a decade, encouraged by her mother, made her change her mind. Maybe she could keep up the charade for a bit, if it meant he could be this happy.

After all, even though she didn’t love Chat Noir that way, she still loved him a little bit. Enough to keep him out of the rain, that was for sure.

[mst3kproject]

Ghost of Dragstrip Hollow

This movie has no dogs, which is a shame because the title definitely sounds like a lost episode of Scooby-Doo.  What it does have is Elaine Dupont from I Was a Teenage Werewolf (and the Beach Girls and the Monster) and Russ Bender from It Conquered the World (he also wrote Voodoo Woman, which makes him indirectly responsible for Curse of the Swamp Creature), in a genre crossover that reminds one of Catalina Caper and is even less successful. It’s also even less funny.

Our heroes are a bunch of super-cool hot-rodding thirty-year-old fifties teens who speak in painfully embarrassing slang. They’ve been evicted from their headquarters and need some new digs, but all their efforts to find a place have come to naught… until an elderly lady offers them her house at Dragstrip Hollow. It sounds like it’ll have everything they need, as long as they don’t mind that it’s haunted.  The gang is a little unnerved by strange events their first evening at the house, but ultimately decide that if nothing else, it’s the perfect place for a Hallowe’en party.  What they haven’t realized is that with everybody in costumes, the monster in the basement will be able to walk among them un-noticed!

This is yet another movie that sounds like a good time but is actually almost unwatchably boring.  A party in a haunted house with a monster who just wants to have a good time?  I’m up for that!  But Ghost of Dragstrip Hollow is only an hour long, and spends most of that time dithering around doing absolutely nothing.

There are two potential main characters.  One is Lois, a young woman who’s far more interested in cars and racing than in boys and makeup, much to her parents’ chagrin. Her mother believes this is a phase she’ll grow out of, but her father keeps trying to encourage her to be more feminine and never gets very far.  This sublot drops out of the movie halfway through, without ever coming to any kind of conclusion.  Lois is also at odds with Nita, a member of a rival racing gang.  Lois spends most of the movie refusing to be goaded into a racing rematch with Nita, but eventually gives in, and their climactic race takes place off-screen while we watch the band at the Hallowe’en party try to play their instruments while dressed as bedsheet ghosts!  Nothing comes of it.

The only thing Nita’s gang does through the whole movie is show up at parties they haven’t been invited to, exchange insults with Lois’ friends, and then leave.

The other potential hero is the reporter who’s doing a series of articles on rebellious teenagers.  He quickly makes friends with the kids, becoming an honourary member of their club, and apparently helps them search for a new headquarters. In spite of this, he doesn’t actually have an arc.  He sympathizes with these young people from the beginning, and based on the questions he asks it’s pretty clear he wants to show that their cars and racing are a harmless hobby rather than a gateway drug to crime.  This opinion doesn’t change over the course of the movie.  Neither does his insistence that the house is not actually haunted, even as unseen hands light his cigarette for him and untie his bow tie.

Most of the movie is totally useless – like the slumber party at Lois’ house, which serves no purpose except to make a joke about women taking too long in the bathroom.  I’m sure that was already tired and unfunny in the 50’s. Or the old lady’s opinionated pet parrot, who provides annoying commentary that makes already not-funny scenes even less funny.  I was sure the parrot was going to be a plot point, because one of his demonstrated talents is imitating a police siren and the hot rodders are worried about getting in trouble with the cops.  Surely during a climactic race the parrot will trick Nita into pulling over, allowing Lois to take the lead!  But no, that can’t happen because that would be useful.  Nothing in this fucking movie is allowed to be useful.

All of this bullshit, with the slumber party and the stupid parrot and the old lady being bad at playing the flute… and the rival gang showing up and then leaving… and the musical numbers, one of which has no lyrics except a guy saying Geronimo! and then firing blanks at the ceiling, and this is played twice… and Lois’ parents and the reporter hanging around and the short guy with the tall girlfriend… all of this drags on and on and on and takes up three quarters of the movie and has literally nothing to do with the plot!  The fact that the club needs a new place to hang out is introduced pretty early but then gets shoved aside until almost the end.  You’d think we ought to see them trying to find a place until eventually being forced to settle for the creepy old house in the middle of nowhere, but no, we sit through forty minutes of nonsense and then suddenly arrive at characters talking about it.

The haunted house must be the actual plot because it’s the title, but it isn’t worth waiting for.  When the club arrives to take a look around, there is indeed a monster creeping around causing mischief.  And it’s definitely a monster, not a ghost – although there is also a ghost. In fact, when we get a good look at the beast shortly thereafter… it’s the fucking She-Creature.

I’m not even kidding.  It is literally the She-Creature without the dumbass blonde wig and with the chitinous tits toned down into chitinous pecs.  This thing creeps around and growls at people, then turns up at the party to dance with a couple of girls before getting its mask ripped off (I told you this was an episode of Scooby-Doo!) to reveal, and I promise you I did not make this up, I could not make this up, a bitter stuntman with a high squeaky voice. He looks a little like Lois’ father and I thought for a moment we were doing a Beach Girls and the Monster thing here… but no, he’s a totally different character.  Why is he dressed up as a monster haunting this old house with a collection of special effects equipment he keeps behind the fireplace?  Because nobody appreciated his performance as the She-Creature.

He actually says that.  Fuck this movie!  The monster suit isn’t even bad enough to be funny.  In fact, it looks better here than it did in The She-Creature or Voodoo Woman, possibly because the lighting allows us to actually see it!

Oh, and as I mentioned, there’s also a ghost, but he left because he didn’t like the rock and roll music.

In order to find the creature’s secret lair, they ask ‘Amelia’, the nerdy guy’s superintelligent, talking, self-driving hot rod.  This machine speaks in a deep, somewhat ghostly voice, and isn’t mentioned or even hinted at until the movie’s almost over.  People accidentally blundering into secret rooms behind the fireplace is a time-honoured tradition in movies, but apparently that wasn’t good enough for Ghost of Dragstrip Hollow.  No, they had to have a deus-ex-machina supercomputer fire-breathing car figure it out without even saying what the clues were.  Fuck!

I’ve watched several films for this blog that left me with the impression that the people making them knew what parts go into a movie but not how to put them together.  I don’t think the makers of Ghost of Dragstrip Hollow even knew what movies are made of – or if they did, they were actively contemptuous of that ingredients list.  Their film seems to have been cobbled together from bits of several stories, without including enough of any single one to really get a plot.  Remember Face of the Screaming Werewolf, which really was made of random bits of two other movies?  Ghost of Dragstrip Hollow is about as coherent as that.  It feels like there’s at least another hour of material missing somewhere, which would deal with things like Lois’ relationship with her parents or the rivalry between the two racing clubs.  It feels like anything that would help unify this story, or bring proper closure to any of the plotlines, was deliberately left on the cutting room floor, just to piss me off!

I only laughed once in the entire movie, at a bit where the parrot complains about his mistress’ bad driving (he wails and me so young!).  The rest of the time I couldn’t even find it ironically funny.  When I wasn’t rolling my eyes at the attempted jokes I was staring at the screen in bafflement because I couldn’t figure out what the movie was trying to do. What ought to be plot points are quickly forgotten, or else resolved with nonsensical trifles and then thrown away. The result is confusing and ultimately deeply frustrating.  I mentioned Scooby-Doo, but that’s not even a fair comparison, because the unmasking of the villain in Scooby-Doo always includes the reveal of a master plan.  The monster in Ghost of Dragstrip Hollow is just fucking around.

I hate this movie.  It’s not even a movie.  It’s just a bunch of unrelated things that happen to the same set of characters, without even any laughs to make it worth watching.  They could have filmed an hour of their asses pressed up against a windowpane, and it would have annoyed me less.

[chaoswillfallrpg]

AMYCUS CARROW is TWENTY-FOUR YEARS OLD and a BARMAN at THE GRAVE AFFAIR in KNOCKTURN ALLEY. He looks remarkably like DACRE MONTGOMERY and considers himself NEUTRAL. He is currently OPEN.

→ OVERVIEW:

tw: death

The strong, silent and sadistic type, Amycus Carrow has always enjoyed feeling like the most powerful person in the room, no matter what it takes for him to gain that feeling he craves. The eldest child of IRIS HOOKUM and EROS CARROW, Amycus has always been someone who liked to cause mischief but knew when exactly to step aside and allow everyone around him to take the fall when the going gets tough. A strong yet silent charmer, despite his beauty Amycus has been used to being slightly overlooked due to the large personality of his twin sister ALECTO. A few minutes separate Amycus from his younger sister, though in his mind it might as well have been a decade. His best friend from the moment she was born, Amycus wasn’t exactly certain when he had made the pact with himself to protect Alecto but he has spent a lifetime looking out for her and oftentimes taking the brunt of punishment for her actions. A schemer, Amycus enjoyed playing small pranks on the elves they had working at Carrow House. Curious about their magic, Amycus enjoyed prodding the elves to see what magic they might use against him and if despite his youth he would be able to counter their magic. The game between him and the elves was one of cat and mouse and began his interest in pressing the buttons of others to gauge how much he would get away with. For Amycus it was all about power. How much power could he wield over others and what he had in his possession.

When some elves were promptly punished and dismissed by his mother for their insolence, he didn’t feel sorrow as many children did. Amycus felt pride. Proud he had engineered such an encounter and interested to see what else he could get away with. Alecto also enjoyed punishing the house elves, though Amycus noted that it came from a completely different place for his sister. Alecto was consumed with rage, enjoying the pain she inflicted on others and doing anything in her power to feel the thrill of the reactions she garnered from both the elves and their family. At first, his mother presumed Alecto to be behaving out of childish wickedness, but as she got older it hinted as something a little darker. Alecto loved chaos and to be the master of it sitting at the helm and watching drama unfold before her pale green eyes. Despite his sister being quite willing to throw him under the Knight Bus headed straight for London in order to get out of trouble, Amycus felt very protective over her. If Alecto took some scissors to his mother’s gowns in anger, Amycus was found holding them. She wanted to eat biscuits before dinner, he was caught by their father getting them off the shelf and passing them to his sister. Having a very mischievous side, Amycus was always happy to aid Alecto in any of her schemes and took little to no persuasion to be part of her double act, but when their parents eyes focused in on them, Alecto was quick to point the finger and Amycus was happy for her to do it.

They were different in their pursuits of chaos. Amycus liked to get his hands dirty, Alecto preferred to watch other people carry out her dirty work for her. Alecto was the only person he would ever take the heat for, otherwise Amycus was quite a selfish person but his selflessness for his sister cost him his relationship with his father to a degree. Alecto was their father’s undisputed favourite, whilst Amycus held the favour of their mother. Though both the twins were high spirited, Amycus was more predictable than his sister. Away at school, he continued his role of keeper to Alecto. Slotting into a group of mischievous fellow Slytherins which jettisoned off NARCISSA BLACK’s court of subjects, drawing out the cruelty in an otherwise subdued VICTOR YAXELY and giving WILLIAM GOYLE and outlet for all of his most wicked thoughts and feelings. Narcissa might have ruled Slytherin with a cold heart and an iron fist, but Amycus and Alecto left people running scared. Muggle-Borns in particular ran in fear, but some fought back. MEAGHAN MCCORMACK was particularly mouthy, but Amycus enjoyed seeing how his persistence might mentally break her down. That was Amycus bread and butter long before he would learn of the unforgivable curses, toying with the kids of others like a cat with a ball. Even his own friends weren’t safe. Amycus had long suspected his best friend Victor as having feelings for him which Amycus mainly entertained for his own enjoyment. 

The reality of it was Amycus was only drawn in by people of strength and whilst most people found Victor’s twin sister ELEANOR YAXLEY unbearable, Amycus could see more of a future with her due to her unwillingness to be walked on. Amycus had a very high opinion of himself and whilst he has enjoyed various flings throughout his life, he truly believes no one is his intellectual match. At school, this high opinion of himself manifested in his attitude to teachers, constant trips in and out of detention hindering his grades and stunting whatever natural ability he had. Despite being a talented wizard, his arrogance and willingness to protect his sister above all else ensured his future would only ever be as the head of Carrow House. Alecto by his side and elves at their back and call it was enough for him, but his mother wanted more for her children. The Carrow twins might have been horrible characters but they were very beautiful and from a Sacred Twenty-Eight family which instantly made them desirable prospects for people who might try and tame them or had aspirations of marrying into an elite family. Eros had very little interest in marrying off his children, but cared about the continuation of their line and needed at least one child to carry it forward. Amycus had very little interest in children and was bored by the idea of marriage but allowed his mother to do her very best to try and match them up with someone.

If Amycus was to marry he wanted a challenge and would only settle for his equal in charm, beauty, blood and intellect, which was a fairly tall order. PERSEPHONE WILKES was a witch who liked things her own way and played second fiddle to no one which Amycus found interesting. Over the course of their courtship, Amycus tried his best to get in her head and under her skin, but only found boredom and distain from her. Tired, he focused his attention on trying to steal away THORFINN ROWLE from under ANASTASIA DUPONT’s nose but that only entertained him for so long. Iris was irritated by his behaviour who seemingly was showing the door to any suitor who knocked on it including Victor Yaxley but at the very least someone was there knocking. No one was even stupid enough to try to make a play for his sister and this realisation made his mother resort to desperate actions. Urging Eros to join the poker nights of CECCILY GREENGRASS, CYGNUS BLACK, WALBURGA BLACK, ILLAR TRAVERS and EELIS BURKE in the hopes of marrying off Alecto. It was eventually decided Alecto would be passed off to CAIUS BURKE, filling their mother wit joy, Alecto with anger and Amycus into fits of laughter. With his mother drawing up a contract with the Burke family, Amycus was left to his own devices, as was his father who had gotten a real taste for gambling whilst the back of his family was turned. Quietly, Eros had been getting a hole of debt which saw Ceccily Greengrass in possession of their home and demanding money from the family they no longer had. It wasn’t long before RITA SKEETER found out and it became known the family was broke. 

Alecto lost her contract, powerful people lost interest in Amycus and suddenly they had nothing. Power and status was everything to Amycus and now the stares of fear and admiration in his friends and foe had been replaced by pity. He was disgusted. Like a flash, his life had changed. He was the heir of Carrow House and now he was serving drinks to his friends at The Grave Affair. His reputation had followed him and his sister and it seemed that only CHRISTIANO and ANDRESSA PARKINSON felt pity for their situation. Amycus and Alecto did their best to pass their sentence working at the bar, conning people out of their money and mixing drinks that were so strong they could knock you out to those they despised. It was a small shred of what he had but it didn’t make him happy. Then one day he set his sights on someone who brought a glimmer of hope back into his life. LUCILLE JONES was a slightly older witch with so much self-confidence she seemed like a tough nut to crack. From a liberal family with a wicked streak similar to his own, Amycus has been slowly getting to know her and has felt shards of himself return as he watches her from across the bar. Although Amycus never thought someone would be able to play his intellectual games, Lucille has proven a formidable opponent, even if she is only a Half-Blood. With the aim of getting Lucille like putty in his hands, Amycus is interested to see how much he can get to do for him. Give him inside information? Steal from her aunt? Turn her family? Only time will tell.

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION:

Blood Status → Pure-Blood

Pronouns → He/Him

Identification → Cis Male

Sexuality  → Pansexual

Relationship Status → Single

Previous Education →  Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Slytherin)

Societies → N/A

Family → Alecto Carrow (sister/best friend/colleague), Primrose Jorkins (estranged cousin), Daisy Hookum (estranged cousin), Poppy Hookum (estranged cousin/adversary)

Connections  → Victor Yaxley (best friend), William Goyle (close friend), Persephone Wilkes (close friend), Violet Bulstrode (close friend), Lucie Hollow (close friend), Walden MacNair (close friend), Eleanor Yaxley (friend/colleague), Narcissa Black (friend), Rabastan Lestrange (friend), Andressa Parkinson (boss), Christiano Parkinson (boss), Adrasteia Greengrass (colleague), Rita Skeeter (adversary), Lucille Jones (acquaintance), Tilden Toots (former adversary) 

Future Information → Eventual Death Eater, Father of Flora and Hestia Carrow, Defence Against The Dark Arts Teacher and Deputy Headmaster at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

AMYCUS CARROW IS A LEVEL 5 WIZARD.

[spooky-z]

Brother

A one shot without ship. And purely self-indulgent.

The song is Brother by Kodaline (I cry every time I hear).

"Good night, Dupont." NETi says into the microphone. “It's a pleasure to be here with you for a special performance.”

She looks at the sea of students, teachers, family, sitting in their proper places. There were also three cameras filming everything live for an exclusive Nadja Chamack holiday program.

NETi would not lie. There was a crackling nervousness under the skin, the tongue seemed slightly heavier and the blood running high in the ears.

It was not her first performance for an audience, but it was the first since Hawkmoth-aka-Gabriel Agreste being arrested and the death of Mayura-aka-Nathalie Sancoeur.

The first since Adrien Agreste, Chat Noir, had discovered his mother in a coma in the basement of the mansion. Since he had been adopted by another family.

The subject had been a hot topic across the country, the streets of Paris, the Dupont corridors, for months.

When the truth about France's greatest villain came out, many more filths emerged amid accusations of terrorism.

Child abuse, neglect and exploitation. There was no doubt about Gabriel's lack of parental competence. He was the worst. Not even the reason that he became a terrorist was able to stifle that yes, he was a terrible father and he didn't care to change that.

Adrien was devastated. He hasn't appeared in Dupont for weeks. Chloe kept quiet, Nino wouldn't drop his phone, Felix was more grumpy than usual, Kagami had a defeated air around her that was unbelievable to see.

Marinette cried every night for a broken heart. And I don't say that romantically. She was heartbroken for her friend, her partner. Her kitten. So mistreated, unaware of affection, exploited and abused. Alone.

When Adrien returned to Dupont, there was an awkward mood in the air. No one brave enough to look the blonde in the eye.

Or at least, that's what everyone thought before Marinette Dupain-Cheng entered the classroom breathlessly. Frantic eyes, flushed cheeks. As soon as she laid eyes on Adrien, a sweet smile appeared and she didn't think twice, before catching the boy in a tight hug.

It was the first time they had seen Marinette Dupain-Cheng, 150cm (4'11") holding Adrien Agreste, 175cm (5'9"), in her arms as the boy cried like a baby.

She didn't look at all overwhelmed by the boy's weight. In fact, Marinette looked pretty comfortable carrying him back to her seat.

After that day, they were only seen together. Glued together with extra-strong glue. The beginning of one was the end of the other.

And that, of course, didn’t go unnoticed. There were, and still were, many rumors of a love relationship between them. Absurd stories about Marinette keeping an eye on the money and Agreste recognition or Adrien using her as a handkerchief to wipe away the tears and that he would soon dismiss her when he was tired.

These were tough times, but they were getting better. Baby steps, they say (and rightly so).

She blinked at the sound of applause, coming out of the sea of thoughts.

NETi had once again been lost in her own mind in the middle of a concert.

She cleared her throat, a clumsy smile on her face.

“I will open the night with a song that is not mine but fits so well in the present moment of my life that I decided to sing for you.” NETi watches the audience once again until she meets the pair of green eyes and blond hair she liked so much.

He winks at her.

She winks back, making promises.

Kitty Section behind her for a collaboration.

"The name of the song is Brother and I will be singing to one of the most important people for me." The audience applauds again until it is suddenly silent.

The sound of Felix's keyboard begins gently.

When we were young, we were the ones The kings and queens oh yeah, we ruled the world We smoked cigarettes man no regrets Wish I could relive every single word

NETi's voice starts soft, the emotion overflowing with each word.

The blueberry eyes holding the green ones.

We've taken different paths And travelled different roads I know we'll always end up on the same one when we're old And when you're in the trenches And you're under fire I will cover you

She watches the way the eyes are unfocused, the mouth open and the red in the pale cheeks.

She wanted him to understand the meaning of that song.

To believe her.

If I was dying on my knees You would be the one to rescue me And if you were drowned at sea I'd give you my lungs so you could breathe

Because she knew it was true.

Whenever he had thrown himself forward to protect her in battle, or when he had “sold his soul to the devil” so she wouldn't be kicked out of Dupont, even if it meant ending the little freedom he had without the mask.

I've got you brother-er-er-er I've got you brother-er-er-er I've got you brother-er-er-er I've got you brother-er-er-er

 And she had him. She made a point of having him.

She would take care, protect. She would give blood.

She wanted him free. Living. Being happy.

And she would do everything to make it come true.

Oh brother, we'll go deeper than the ink Beneath the skin of our tattoos Though we don't share the same blood You're my brother and I love you that's the truth

The scars that magic recovery often did not erase from their skins.

The proof that they fought, wept, won.

True, they might not be brothers. There was no blood correlation between them, but siblings didn't need to share the same blood or DNA.

She loved him, no doubt. And that alone was proof.

We're living different lives Heaven only knows If we'll make it back with all our fingers and our toes 5 years, 20 years, come back It will always be the same

Because Hawkmoth, Gabriel, had taken so much from both of them. From Paris.

It didn't take skin scars to know the damage he'd done in their lives. In his life. How deep was the trauma he wove around him. Around Adrien.

But it was not enough to destroy them. Because they were strong. Heroes.

If I was dying on my knees You would be the one to rescue me And if you were drowned at sea I would give you my lungs so you could breathe

Because she would give her everything. The lungs, the air, the life.

He deserved the good things, deserved to live, to know the world.

Breathe freely, be free.

I've got you brother-er-er-er I've got you brother-er-er-er

Oh God. She asked so much for it.

On the knees, hands clenched, so you could help him.

To get him out of the darkness.

And if we hit on troubled water I'll be the one to keep you warm and safe And we'll be carrying each other Until we say goodbye on our dying day

She felt something warm slide down her cheek, her blurry eyes barely able to see the audience.

The fingers sliding and... Oh.

They were tears. She was crying. Crying while singing. While opening her soul in front of all those people and cameras.

And it was so good. So fucking liberating.

Because I've got you brother-er-er-er I've got you brother-er-er-er I've got you brother-er-er-er I've got you brother-er-er-er

There was no time to compose herself.

She was confessing, exposing herself.

NETi-no, Marinette wanted everyone to see and know.

For Adrien, Chat Noir, to understand.

If I was dying on my knees You would be the one to rescue me And if you were drowned at sea I would give you my lungs so you could breathe

She wiped her face.

The eyes scanned everything.

She watched some people cry; others very emotional.

There were also those who did not understand (like she-devil) and did not care to understand and others who were disinterested.

She didn't care.

Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh I've got you brother-er-er-er I've got you brother-er-er-er

Because the only person who mattered had understood out loud what she meant.

She was here to stay and would not leave.

He was smiling at her. Crying. The face in an ugly expression. But she wouldn't trade it for anything.

[corinthbayrpg]

NAME. Sofia Morales AGE & BIRTH DATE. 48 & November 3rd, 1972 GENDER & PRONOUNS. Female & She / Her SPECIES. Fury of Tisiphone OCCUPATION. Diving & Surfing Instructor FACE CLAIM. Lindsey Morgan

BIOGRAPHY

( tw: death ) Sofia Morales was born on a stormy November night, as the second child of Maria Morales  who was a relatively well-known painter. Her mother had been born and raised in Toluca in Mexico, but after getting an art degree that her parents frowned upon, she started traveling the world to find inspiration for the landscape scenery paintings she did. Eventually, her mother decided to settle down in the small village of Étretat in France, where she had met the first love of her life, a man who worked with finances, and loved to go sailing in his free time. Sofia’s father had already been a single dad before meeting her mother, raising his son on his own after their mother left them for another man. As neither of them really believed in the concept of marriage, they never wed, but it didn’t slim their love in the slightest. Sofia hardly got to know her father though, as he died in a sailing accident when she was merely two years old. While she always noticed his absence, she had hardly any memories or recollections of the person he was, and therefore never properly had to grieve his death like her half-brother and mother did. 

Until Sofia was eight, her mother raised the two of them on their own. Which was actually quite the chaotic experience. Her mother was a chaotic person in general, not the kind of mother who prepared lunches or always remembered the appointments for her children – instead she often forgot about time and space when she was working on a new painting. She never forgot about her children out of malice, and they were aware of that, but at times it wasn’t easy for the two. They spent a lot of their free time at the small beach in Étretat, where Sofia immersed herself in books, but mostly enjoyed the ocean. Maybe it was a leftover of her dad’s DNA in her that she enjoyed the waves so much. She could swim better than she could walk at a young age, and her brother taught her how to surf quite early on in life. She also took a sailing course, despite her mother’s hesitations about it. As long as she was surrounded by water, Sofia was happy. 

Shortly after Sofia turned twelve, her mother then introduced a new person into their lives. She had met a woman named Valerie Dupont at one of her art expositions and instantly fell in love. While the women mostly tried to keep their relationship a secret from the public eye, it was two weeks after Sofia’s birthday that her mother introduced Valerie to her children. From one day to the next, she suddenly had two mothers. While her brother and her were hesitant at first, they quickly fell in love with this woman just like their mother had. She was kind, warm, welcoming – she remembered to make lunches, used Sundays to bake cakes, and was exactly the kind of person the three of them needed in their lives to give them some structure. She also already had a daughter that she brought into the family, making them a true patchwork match. Soon enough, all four of them would go to the beach, leaving Sofia’s mother behind to do her paintings, and suddenly Sofia had a woman and a young girl cheering her on when she was chasing waves with her surfboard, and taught her younger sister how to sail a small boat.

What none of them knew was that her step-mother was a witch, and so was her daughter. To this day, Sofia isn’t quite sure how they managed to hide it from them for an extended period of time, but back then, she had no clue something like the supernatural world existed. Any hints, any slip ups from the two, had gone unnoticed. She didn’t believe in Gods, or any other creatures aside of humans, or really just anything that was remotely out of the ordinary. No, Sofia liked nature, and lived in a very human reality. She loved to go camping, to go hiking, to be out on the water – anything that was taking place outside made her happy. She wouldn’t sleep with her windows closed, not even in the coldest winters, just because she felt like she was suffocating without any fresh air coming in through her windows. 

In general though, her life was blissfully peaceful. Sofia couldn’t say she had much to complain about. After leaving school, she worked two years as a surfing instructor in Éterat, simply because she didn’t want to leave her family. Sofia had never been someone to make too many friends, her family being the most important part of her life, and therefore that was the part she didn’t want to be too far away from. But she always dreamt of studying, and her mother and step-mother eventually managed to talk her into making her dream come true. That was how she left the small town in France to study biology at a university in Zurich, with a minor in marine biology, making her dreams of one day working in and with nature a reality. She graduated with a bachelor’s degree she was incredibly proud of, and went on to do her master’s degree in Iceland, where she mainly did research on whales’ behavior and also sustainable biology. Afterwards, she started working in the research field, spending a lot of her time on boats or by the ocean in different countries all over the world. During that time, she hardly saw her family, something that left a gaping hole in her heart.

And that was the reason why for Sofia’s twenty-eighth birthday, her only wish was for their family to go on a camping trip together. It was during that weekend that everything changed for her. The weekend started out perfectly fine, it included a hike to a smaller mountain nearby, they took silly family photos, even took a small swim in a tiny lake near where they built their tents. In the evening, they made a bonfire, and eventually crawled into their tents to sleep.

Sofia woke up in the middle of the night, and at first, she wasn’t even sure what woke her up. Then she noticed that the sleeping bag next to hers was empty. She had shared her tent with her step-sister, and decided to go check if everything was alright – more on instinct than out of real worry. But Sofia stepped right into the scene that looked like it came straight out of a nightmare. At first, she only noticed the unmoving body of her own mother on the ground, covered in blood, and only afterwards she lay eyes on a silhouette that was bent over her sister, who was also unmoving and incredibly pale in the dusty moonlight. Sofia was moving before she had really decided on what to do, tearing the vampire’s body away from her sister’s form, screaming in the process. It was an uneven fight, of course, and by the time her brother appeared from his tent, Sofia was unable to walk, one of her legs feeling as if it no longer belonged to her body. She was covered in blood, her own and those of her family members. Her brother ended up being thrown against a tree, a cracking noise making her think that he, too, was no longer breathing. It was then that Sofia first found out that her step-mother was a witch, as she started to use the earth around them as means of protecting them from the vampire. Roots grew around them, encaging them to make it impossible for the vampire to get to them. But in the process, she forgot to protect herself, and was pulled into the woods. Her screams could be heard everywhere in the valley, and when the magic in the roots fell away and they fell to the ground in ashes, Sofia thought this was the end.

Sofia dragged herself to her sister, bending over her, only to find her unmoving and unbreathing. It was then that she cried out for help, furious and full of a need for revenge as Sofia believed that within a matter of minutes, she had lost her entire family. And that was when Tisiphone appeared to her, offering her the opportunity to become something more than what she was, to be able to pursue revenge for what had happened to her family. Blinded by her pain, she did not hesitate before accepting her new role. Sofia was a quick learner, both when it came to her new abilities and everything else there was to know about the supernatural world. It was two years after she had first met Tisiphone that she located the vampire that had killed her mother and younger sister, and paid him back for the crimes he committed with a wooden stake to his heart. She also beheaded him afterwards, just to make sure he was dead and unable to stay alive.

After the incident in the forest, it turned out that her step-mother and brother were still alive. They were severely injured, but recovered from the physical injuries – the emotional ones are some all three of them still carry with them every single day, and have only bound the little family even tighter together. Sofia still vividly remembers that night, dreams of it all the time, and as a reminder she got a tattoo on her thigh where the vampire had left his biggest mark, a reminder of the two people she had lost. The murder of them is what kept her moving through the past years, and still keeps her going these days, trying to fulfill her duty as a fury and make sure no other families will be ripped apart like hers. While she wanted nothing more than to stay with the remaining parts of her family, as a fury she felt restless. She bought a small RV and started using it as a means of moving from one day to the next. Most of the time she’d sleep in woods or by the ocean, where she felt most at home.

Sofia came to Corinth Bay at the call of Tisiphone once more, to join the other furies in trying to help with the veil being torn. Unsure about how long she will stay, she found herself a room in an apartment, and a job as a diving and surfing instructor down by the beach. But her focus hasn’t been on her true passion for a long time, instead she is trying her hardest to use the abilities she has been blessed with, and protect those around Corinth Bay who can’t protect themselves.

PERSONALITY

+ adventurous, responsible, loyal - impatient, opinionated, impulsive

PLAYED BY LISA. GMT+1. She/Her.

[absentialucis]

                                          || Briar Kingston || 

BASICS

Name → Briar Rose Kingston

Age → Twenty-Three

Date of Birth → April 13, 1997

Hair → Blonde

Eye Color → Blue

Accent (If any) → N/A

Height → 5′7′’

Weight → 114 lbs.

Tattoos or piercings and where → “i just recently got a rose with thorns weaving in and out of my skin on my left thigh. piercings wise i’ve got my belly button pierced, ears and my nose.”

Birthmarks (if any) → N/A

Scars (if any) → “i have a long scar on the side of my calf from falling out a tree as a kid. it’s faded a bit but still visible.”

Left or right handed → Right Handed

Single or taken? → "single. always single. i’m a hard girl to hold down.”

Are you happy? → "life is great what do you mean? unless you mean my mental health then eh, could be better. i’m working on it.”

How do you dress? → “i wear what i want when i want. lots of skirts, dresses, shorts. i have nice legs i like to show them off.”

Is there anything you want to change about yourself? → “how much time do we have?”

FACTS ABOUT YOUR FAMILY

Mortal parent’s name and occupation → “my mother’s name was katherine kingston and she used to be a stay-at-home mom but when i went to school she went to work at a clothing store. my father is james kingston and he’s a dentist.”

Deity you’re related to → "i’m the spawn of aphrodite.”

Siblings (if any) → “i have a lot of sisters now! jade dupont, lydia paxton and zooey duke!”

Hometown → “i grew up in kokomo, indiana. moved as soon as i could.”

ABOUT LOVE….

Believe in love at first sight →  “no, i don’t. if someone is going to make me fall in love they have to earn it.”

Who ended your last relationship? →  “me.”

Have you ever broke someone’s heart →  “yes.”

Afraid of committing to someone →  “yes and no. i think relationships can be a beautiful thing but i also feel as if i’ve been burned too many times in the past.”

Hugged someone in the last week →  “yes. atticus is a hugger, it’s annoying. remind 

Have you ever had a secret admirer →  “probably. i mean have you seen me?”

Has anyone ever broke your heart →  “yes.”

TEN CHOICES

Love or lust → “i think both are great but lust means no one can get hurt. if you’re in it for the sex then nothing can go wrong.”

Friendship or love →  “friendship is great. i would go insane without my friends.”

Coffee or Tea → “coffee. i’m grumpy in the morning.”

Cats or dogs →  “cats! ooh petition to get a cat.”

A few best friends or many friends → “i love having lots of friends but always have a close knit group you can count on.”

Television or internet →  “internet. you can watch television on it! it’s obviously superior.”

Pepsi or Coca-Cola →  “pepsi.”

Wild night or romantic evening → “every night is a wild one for me.” ​

Day or night →  “night.”

Summer or Winter → “summer.”

[lady-charinette]

A Brief Glance - Dinner for Two Marichat Fic (Chapter 9)

A Brief Glance

Flashback to dinner with Gabriel at 6pm

Adrien checked himself one last time, already hearing the clicking of Natalie’s heels hitting the marbled floor of the Agreste mansion, making sure his hair was neatly combed and already ironed shirt sat straight.

The door opened and Natalie greeted him with a curt nod, “Welcome Adrien, your father is already waiting in the dining room.”

Adrien mustered a small smile, “Thanks Natalie.” The woman stepped aside to let him enter and Adrien sighed, taking in the hues of metal and white, “Hey, Natalie…”

“Yes, Adrien?”

“Does a color change fit into father’s schedule?” Natalie was already following Adrien’s line of sight and the normally strict and uptight woman allowed a small but sad smile to grace her lips.

“…I’m afraid not, Adrien.”

Adrien’s small smile still remained, but it was hollow, “I see.”

She cleared her throat, “…I’ll see what I can do without any guarantee. Follow me please.” Adrien stared at her back sympathetically as she led him to the familiar double doors across the hall.

He sometimes felt bad for Natalie, he knew the woman could be strict and uptight, but she had been the one who’d fought for his right to attend public school while he had been a teen. She had warmth, but it was deeply buried underneath a thick layer of professionalism. Adrien admired her, working for so long in such a cold environment and still having that small speck of warmth.

The double doors opened and Natalie excused herself, closing them again once Adrien was inside.

His father was sitting at the end of the long table and Adrien mentally asked himself why he still had such a large table when it was mostly reserved for one person, two occasionally or even four if Natalie and the gorilla, on very rare occasions, joined in.

Still, Adrien sat down beside his father, who was eating soup, Adrien’s own still steaming before him. It had a creamy, pale texture, either mushrooms or something else, “You’re punctual, Adrien.” His father’s words broke the silence like ice and Adrien began eating.

“As I always am, father.” His tone, he noticed, had changed again, into that slightly indifferent one he used whenever he stepped foot into the mansion.

Whenever he talked to his father.

His father hummed but that was the only response to his answer before he changed the subject, “I trust your day went well.”

The answer flowed easily from his lips, as if reciting a report, “I’ve been quite busy. Fencing lessons started in the morning and ended at 3pm, photoshoots with Chloe and Theo at 3:30pm until 5:30pm. Studying follows after dinner.”

Gabriel paused, as if taking in the information, information he knew since he coordinated his schedule, “How are Chloe and Theo doing? I believe they must be very busy with their rising popularities.”

Adrien refrained from making an undignified noise as snorting, he barely reined it in.

Barely.

“Chloe plans to visit her mother in New York for a few fashion events. Theo has modelled for a few Italian companies and got featured in several magazines.” The information that left his mouth barely registered to Adrien, his focus was on the bland soup he was swallowing.

He couldn’t deny enjoying the luxury of first class chefs in the Agreste kitchen, but their food at the restaurant made by Miss Cesaire was by far superior.

“I see.” Gabriel cleared his throat, “I noticed you cancelled a photoshoot scheduled for tomorrow.”

Adrien paused, trying to carefully word his next sentences, “The photoshoot takes place at the same time I have a test in physics, I rescheduled it for the afternoon.”

He could sense his father’s displeasure, he didn’t need to look at his face to know, not that he would read anything from the stone-like surface it seemed to transform into, “So, you still attend university lectures?”

Adrien’s grip on the spoon was a bit too tight, but he wouldn’t allow his emotions to get the better of him, “Yes, since attendance is obligatory.”

“Attendance is required for photoshoots as well.” Ah, that argument.

The young man finished his soup, which was immediately taken by a servant, before they were served their next course, grilled lamb, perfectly smooth mashed potatoes with a mysterious sauce.

Adrien mentally prepared himself for the direction their discussion, if one could call it that, was starting to take, he lifted his gaze from his plate for the first time this evening to look at his father, whose gaze still remained fixed on his food, “Photoshoots can easily be rescheduled, exams in university are difficult if not impossible to reschedule, especially for a single student.”

Gabriel’s brows furrowed slightly, “If you wish I can write a letter to the university and-“

“No.”

The noises of cutlery ceased completely and Gabriel finally lifted his head to look directly at his son. Adrien gathered his growing courage to repeat his answer, “No, thank you father. I already rescheduled the shoot, it’s fine.”

The fashion designer huffed and wiped at his mouth, “Perhaps for you, but I’m the one who needs to explain the reasons behind my son missing events.”

“Shall I do it? I have a computer, I have their e-mail address.”

“Adrien…”

The blond set his napkin next to his still full plate, “It’s not a problem, father. I can write a full page essay on how I prefer to focus on expanding my education in subjects I enjoy and am interested in and that I deeply apologize for the rescheduling of a photoshoot solely relying on my attendance to boost their popularity.”

“Watch your tongue, young man!” the hard edge in his father’s tone reminded Adrien of the rare times he tried arguing against him, mostly unsuccessfully, in his younger days.

But he wasn’t fifteen anymore.

He was an adult.

And he would act like one for once.

With all the gracefulness and practiced calm of a model and an Agreste, Adrien rose from his seat and folded his napkin over his untouched food, “I apologize father, but I lost my appetite. Enjoy your meal.” He nodded once at his furious parent, before he finally left the suffocating, ice cold room.

And left his father sitting alone at the table.

Just like Adrien used to sit alone at that very same table in his youth.

When he opened the doors, Natalie was looking at him in concern, “Adrien-“

“Good night Natalie. Make sure you try the lamb, it’s delicious.” With those words, the young Agreste left the building he used to call home behind in confident strides.

And didn’t look back once.

--------------

Hearing Nino’s excited voice over the phone while walking towards the club filled Adrien with a sense of fulfillment he hadn’t experienced often, especially after a day like today and the dinner he had.

Nino had been right, it would do him good to go out and relax every once and a while.

Adrien frowned when he thought of the restaurant, feeling bad for going earlier than he usually did. Pierre said it was alright, but it still left a sour aftertaste in his mouth.

Perhaps he could work a few extra hours tomorrow to make up for today, if he was out until ten with Nino and Alya, he could still study for two-three hours until he had to go to sleep.

-------------

A little while later at the club

“Dude! You came!” Nino’s body migrated towards his best friend immediately upon spotting the blond tuft of hair in the crowd, arms wrapped around the model like a monkey.

In hindsight, he supposed it sounded sad, but being hugged by Nino felt infinitely better than the last time he had been hugged by his father. Adrien returned the hug gladly.

“Ahem, if you boys are done swooning over each-other.” A playful female voice sounded from behind Nino and the two men broke apart.

Nino grinned sheepishly, placing an arm on the shoulder of a stunning dark-skinned woman with auburn hair and glasses, dressed in a stylish dark purple one suit which could pass for a shorter cocktail dress, “Ah, sorry, Adrien meet Alya Cesaire, to-be-worldwide famous reporter, already famous blogger and amazing girlfriend.” He grinned at the blond, “Alya, meet number one model and awkward sunshine boy Adrien Agreste!”

He rose an eyebrow at the ‘awkward’ part, to which Nino chuckled at his friend’s reaction.

Alya smirked at her boyfriend’s description, smoothing down his bowtie, “Thank you Nino.” She turned her attention to Adrien, holding a hand out, “Hi Adrien, welcome to the club!” she smiled brilliantly and Adrien returned the smile full force, shaking her hand.

“Thanks Alya, the pleasure is all mine! It’s nice finally meeting you after hearing all these wonderful things about you from Nino.” He locked gazes with his DJ friend, who rubbed at his head in embarrassment.

Alya crossed her arms, “I surely do hope there were only good things.” She winked, laughing at her boyfriend’s reaction and the two males soon joined in.

They talked and drank for a while, catching up and getting to know each-other. Adrien found out she ran the famous blog he heard about here and there, he was glad to know she was also promoting Nino as a DJ, which helped boost his popularity. Their relationship dynamic also intrigued him, they were playfully bantering and bickering but the soft, loving looks in their eyes were undeniably.

Adrien had to drink and turn his head a few times when he noticed their heads were leaning a bit too close to each-other, but otherwise they were very cool.

He also got to hear Nino letting loose and rapping onstage, he hadn’t heard Nino rap in ages, since Dupont, while good back then, it was nothing like it was now. Now he really did deserve the title of prodigy DJ, even complicated, longer words effortlessly flowed out of his mouth in quick, smooth tones and the lyrics were cleverly put together and sent a powerful message.

He suspected Alya had a hand or at least was a partial inspiration, if the proud look and loud cheering were any indication.

Adrien couldn’t remember the last time he was so loud, he could shout as loud as he wanted, there were always people louder than him here in the crowded club.

It was liberating, being so casual. His green dress shirt was slightly in disarray, the first button open, collar slightly loose, hair a bit messier.

But nobody cared and Adrien reveled in the non-attention he was getting.

He felt free.

Still, Adrien couldn’t shake off the feeling like he was forgetting something.

--------------

Marinette couldn’t remember the last time she ran in the short heels without tripping, but now she was, at full speed towards the bustling restaurant.

It wasn’t that late, maybe Chat Noir was still there. She wanted to ask him to meet her again tomorrow, maybe the odd feeling she had earlier would go away little by little the more time she spent with him outside the restaurant.

Maybe she was just nervous, he was a good looking man, not quite what she expected, for some reason, she imagined him to have blond hair or at least more on the lighter side.

She sighed, looking left and right for incoming cars as her legs carried her across the street towards the building.

Marinette entered with a huff, panting heavily and muttering apologies when she nearly ran into a few customers on the way to the receptionist desk, which was occupied by the elder butler again.

He offered her a welcoming smile and a polite nod and Marinette returned his gestures, “Good evening! Is there still room for one?” she meekly looked around the full establishment.

Pierre chuckled and grabbed the menu card, “Of course, if you would follow me miss.” He gestured for her to follow and she did without question, feeling relief washing over her when her usual seat was empty.

Thank god.

Marinette felt another wave of relief when she sat down, her tired legs screaming at her to take a rest after the hard day she had.

When Pierre handed her the menu, she wanted to worship the ground he walked on.

While he moved away to get her a glass of water, Marinette scanned the menu, feeing giddy to talk to Chat Noir again.

When Pierre came back with only her glass of water but no black toy, Marinette hesitantly spoke up, “Um…excuse me, but…is…is the cat not available tonight?” she swore she hadn’t seen Chat Noir’s toy anywhere else in the seats.

Not that she’d been looking.

The elder man frowned slightly, hands clasped to his front apologetically, “My apologies but the black cat is not in service for tonight I’m afraid, would you prefer a different one?”

Sadness hit Marinette like a wave, but she forced on a bright smile, “No, no, thank you very much! Um, I’ll take the potato soup and the noodles with chicken and vegetables.” Pierre nodded and bowed briefly before leaving with her order.

Marinette sighed, her tired form slumping back to rest against the cushioning of her seat, staring up at the ceiling.

She was so excited to talk to Chat Noir again! She wanted to know more about art therapy and how it helped people and what his relationship was like with his students!

Another long drawn out sigh left her lips and Marinette tried hard to ignore the ache in her heart.

She felt a bit bad for cancelling the night out Alya had called her for, but she was too tired to go clubbing now anyway, she still needed to work on that paper that was due in two weeks.

Still, it would’ve been nice to eat with the cute green eyes staring at her and the soothing, boyish voice keeping her company with cat puns.

I’m sorry for the short chapter! I hope it’s still okay! Thanks everyone for reading, I hope some people still follow this. :3

[chaoswillfallpromo]

CLARICE FARIBAULT is THIRTY-FOUR YEARS OLD and a PROSECUTION BARRISTER in THE DEPARTMENT OF MAGICAL LAW ENFORCEMENT at THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC. She looks remarkably like MICHELLE TRACHTENBERG and considers herself NEUTRAL. She is currently OPEN.

? OVERVIEW:

Born into an extraordinary family, Clarice Faribault’s upbringing would not be comparable by many and to this day remains her darkest secret. The eldest daughter of theatrical vampire MARIUS FARIBAULT, Clarice was not alone for long before the birth of her younger half-sister GEORGINE. Her mother VICTORIA LEWIS had been born and raised in London, attending Hogwarts and working in a shop in Diagon Alley before meeting Marius. Clarice was born out of their intense love for one another and the hope that after she was born Victoria would be given the dark kiss. But sadly as he had been his previous wives Victoria would not live to care for her daughter and died before she could even hold her. Raised amongst the creatures that populated her father’s theatre, Clarice had no close contact with the outside world beyond her family. In the absence of their mothers, Clarice’s father attempted to be both mother and father to them, showering his daughters in love and affection and giving them all their hearts desired. Clarice growing up had never wanted much. Training to be a ballerina was what made her happy, the precision and control of all the dancers she learned from in the theatre was where she was most at peace watching the half-veelas twirl and sing. 

Whilst the theatre satisfied Clarice, it was not enough for her younger sister. Though Marius bought every dress and doll her heart desired she would always want more, screaming loudly and taking tantrums that would burst the crystals in their chandeliers and crack the porcelain in some of her dolls. When Georgine grew jealous of her sister she became spiteful, tearing up her books and dresses into tatters with the flick of her wrist as she grew into her powers. Despite her moods Clarice loved her sister, channeling any anger she felt into her dancing to ease her mood. Hogwarts was a blessing for Clarice, having been the school her mother attended she relished the chance to move away from home and learn more about the world her mother had come from. Sorted into Slytherin, she quickly realised being at school with witches, wizards and sorcerers would be very different from the sheltered life she had led in Paris. At Hogwarts your blood type was what defined you. Children born to Muggle families were ridiculed, whilst people in her classes feared vampires as monsters of the night who murdered their families in their thirst for blood. 

Having not known her mother and remembering fragments of Georgine’s mother, Clarice could hardly argue with the assessments made by her classmates. Her kind was bloodthirsty and although she felt human it was clear that when the blood moon rose Clarice became blood starved and ravenous, a side of herself she feared more than anything else. Concealing her blood type from her classmates she posed as a Half-Blood student, befriending fellow Half-Blood Slytherin student NATASHA DUPONT in an effort to appear more normal. A naturally quiet person only Natasha could rouse any fun from Clarice and encourged her to be more forthcoming in her opinions and attend parties held in the castle. Clarice had always thought no one but Natasha really noticed her until RICHARD ELLINGTON approached her at a party in the Slytherin common room one evening. Richard was famous amongst their house for his beauty, but after one small chat with him Clarice had seen right through him. Having grown up with veelas she felt somewhat immune to his charms which only made him pursue her harder. Clarice had been a difficult woman to catch but once their romance began to blossom it was full of passion and intensity that only two people as strong as them could withstand. 

Graduating two years after Richard, Clarice moved into his apartment in London and underwent Auror training in the hopes of becoming a Prosecution Barrister for Wizengamot. Though there was beauty in what her and her family were she knew creatures caused great pain within the wizarding community. Knowing the lives her family had taken weighed on her conscious daily and with her knowledge and background of magical creatures she knew she could help. Making friends amongst the other trainees including fellow aspiring barrister GIVA PATIL, Clarice passed her exams with flying colours before she was chosen by CECILY GREENGRASS who she studied under for several years. A cold woman, Cecily pushed Clarice to her very limits, sending her on pointless errands and making her work round the clock to prove she was hungry and determined enough for the job. Working under Cecily was diffuclt but by the time she had become a lawyer and began winning cases for the Ministry on her own it had all felt worth it. With her caseloads piling up, Clarice sought the help of an assitant, choosing to train hopeful barrister AMELIA BONES as her first protégé. Amelia reminded her a lot of herself and although she was tenacious in her teaching she was kind to Amelia and grew fond of her.

Helping put dangerous criminals behind bars, Clarice was incredibly happy with her life. She had an amazing working enviroment and someone to come home to each day who loved her. When Richard proposed to her one evening in late spring she couldn’t have been happy accepting immediately and sending an owl off to her sister to share in her good news. Clarice hadn’t expected Georgine to show up on her doorstep to meet Richard, but with work begining to pick up as more people went missing she hoped the apperance of her little sister might help better entertain her fiancé. Little did Clarice know Georgine would take Clarice’s request to keep her fiancé busy a little too seriously. All the signs had been there. Small glances, the odd flinch here and there but Clarice had ignored it believing herself to be paranoid. It had taken two years before Clarice could no longer pretend it wasn’t happening. Standing in the doorway of her apartment home early from work she watched Richard and Georgine scramble for an excuse to give her though it was obvious to see what had happened. Sliding her ring off her finger, Clarice slammed it down on the dining room table and left without saying another word to Richard or her sister. 

Something broke in Clarice that day. She had felt pained her whole life, so unlovable to the world due to what she was she had chosen to live a lie. Clarice had worked hard to convict all the people she had to try and inject goodness into the world and make up for the sins of her and her family, but what did she have to show for it? As she stood outside Natasha’s apartment, soaked through in the pouring rain with her closest possions she made a promise to herself. She would never let anyone get as close to her againas Richard and her sister had. Those closest to her found her changed aftet that. Amelia noticed it first. The sarcastic expression and poisonous edge to her tongue seeping into her once kind features. The BOOKER BAGNOLD case has come at the best time for Clarice. A busy case she spends her evenings in research trying to poke holes in RODOLPHUS LESTRANGE’s defence to ensure SILAS CRUMP goes away for the murder of the Minister’s son. Wanting to think like Rodolphus, Clarice has sought the help of hunter HENRY GRIFFS as an expert she hopes to put on the stand. Though the two are simply acquaintances and outwardly she has already grown tired of his flirtatious tone, privately Clarice has been enjoying getting to know him though she grows nervous of him finding out about her true identity as the date of the trial nears.  

? ADDITIONAL INFORMATION:

Blood Status ? Half-Blood/Half-Vampire

Sexual Orientation ? Pansexual 

Relationship Status ? Single

Previous Education ? Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Slytherin) 

Family ? Marius Faribault (father), Georgine Fairibault (half-sister), Marcus Faribault (cousin)

Connections  ? Natasha Dupont (best friend), Giva Patil (close friend), Adaira Linwood (closet friend), Poppy Pomfrey (close friend), Amelia Bones (close friend/mentee), Richard Ellington (ex-fiancé/adversary), Cecily Greengrass (ex-mentor), Silas Crump (person of interest), Henry Griffs (acquaintance/potential love interest)

Future Information ? N/A

CLARICE FARIBAULT IS A LEVEL 6 WITCH.

[aviationfiction]

XIX

Autumn Dupont

It’ll get better.

This is a new beginning for you.

Though it may hurt now, ultimately, you will realize that it’s for the better.

Now is the time for your personal growth.

Some people believe that holding on and working on it is what makes you strong; sometimes it’s letting go that is the strongest act that one can do.

I’ve heard it all.

I have pages and pages of a marble notebook filled with the many different quotes and words of advice that I’ve been given in reference to divorce from Dr. Jill, my parents, Issac, and friends. Though I didn’t do it out right, I eventually laughed at every single one of them for loosely offering advice for a circumstance that none of them have gone through. Human beings tend to believe they’re expects on every situation when it has nothing to do with their life and livelihood. There’s an arrogance within that. It often comes into play when life is good on their end. For that reason, they can happily assess your incompetence or shambles of a life, to figure out where not to go wrong in their own, and finally to offer you a charade of advice. It’s always from their perspective; what they would and wouldn’t do if they were in your shoes. It’s rare to have someone step outside of themselves and actually view what’s happening to you from your eyes; to feel the pain and severity of the situation and finally, to understand the hardship. I’ve flipped through those pages endlessly, reading every single piece of advice I decided that a mental note was enough for, and none of it soothes me or has prepared me for what I am facing today. It hasn’t aided in the much needed closure I don’t believe I’m ever going to get. Instead, I’ve been left internally conflicted and confused because I’m not sure if what I’m feeling is the correct way to go about this. I’d love to have the divorce party, where my friends and I cheerfully toss back endless amounts of alcohol, dance to our favorite tunes, and verbally trash every single trait about my husband. If not that, I’d love to sign those papers and walk out of there in my high heels feeling liberated and confident in the decision that I personally made for the betterment of myself. I’ve imagined it all by letting it play out like some heavily directed alternate universe scene out of a dramatic sitcom but my reality is anything but that.

I had a session with Dr. Jill yesterday evening and we discussed the stages of heartbreak that she swears by. Though she admitted there are different therapists and psychological doctors who will pan out anywhere between five and ten stages, she lives by the lucky number seven. We spent nearly three hours discussing these stages with no regard for her paid time or my much needed breath of fresh air from the intensity of her office. First, I’d been desperate for answers. Actually, I still am desperate for the necessary words or even excuses to fill in these holes that I have. The demise of my marriage has been a difficult puzzle to piece together on my own and the other party involved has been no help in bring it all to perspective. According to Andreas, it’s my fault. It’s the only way he’s made sense of our beginning, our middle, and finally, our destructive ending. I’ve yet to truly debate anyone about it; just myself. It’s a conversation that my mind has with itself when I first wake up in the morning and as I lay awake in bed at night tossing and turning with a dire hope to sleep, so the bitter thoughts will temporarily cease. The denial was strong; stronger than I needed it to be. Shane’s death heightened it. The stroke was my wake up call. I don’t know why, but when I hit the wooden floor of my parent’s entry hall clutching my head while my surroundings blackened, I knew right then and there that Andreas wasn’t returning to me. It wasn’t the arguments over the phone that ended in him angrily hanging up on me, my rants about the death of my sibling to guilt him about his neglect, or my deteriorating mental health. It took my mind and body suddenly feeling like I was on the brink of a young and sudden demise to understand we were irrevocably broken.

Bargaining? Oh I did plenty of that. Suggested marriage counseling? Check. Worked on myself? Check. Attempted to figure out what I wasn’t doing right? Check. Hell, I even worked on my appearance. I did my best to tackle every possibility there was to fix us and came up short. We haven’t relapsed. At one point, I wished we did. I desired for us to foolishly allow ourselves to toss our emotional sorrows aside and to get caught up into the physical aspect of our love, so we’d have no choice but to confront what tore us apart at some later point. He didn’t need my body anymore. Amber came into the picture to fill every physical void he was experiencing and seemingly has done a much better job than I ever could have. The anger I feel is beyond what woulds can ever express. It has taken me on this roller coaster ride of mental and physical responses to what’s happened. I scream, yell, cry, and blank out. I’ve punched a few things; knock over plenty of delicates. I’ve ripped pictures and even thrown the rings a couple of times. Dr. Jill has always told me that my anger is empowering because it is within those moments that I step outside of Andreas and realize that what I feel matters just as much. I stop worrying about what wasn’t right for him and acknowledge what hadn’t been right for me and all the hurt he’s inflicted upon me. It’s not victimizing. I don’t want to be a victim. It’s a reminder that I may actually deserve better and possibly more than I was given. Within the anger, somewhere in there, I’m telling myself the truth. I’ve come to accept this. I’ve surrendered. I’ve withheld this divorce for long enough and dragging it along is no longer beneficial for my emotions or childish thoughts of revenge. We’re not meant to be and though it’s taken quite some time for me to come to terms with that; I have. It’s painful to let my connection to my husband go but it’s far more painful to contain it with an idiotic hope that somehow it’ll all work itself out.

It’s over.

We’re over.

Love’s over.

Late last night, I was assured of my choice in a blush toned figure fitting pencil dress that I keep in the back of the closet for those days of necessary professionalism, but the high eighties Miami weather convinced me to leave it lying in my garment bag. Instead, I opted for a fairly new pair of acid washed, blue denim, cut off shorts I purchased from the California based revolutionized brand Runwaydreamz. The holes, rips, and frayed styled could easily scream hipster poser at Coachella, but with my elongated legs and caramel skin, they were a nice choice for the scenery of this beach front hotel. My choice of a top was an ode to my brother. Shane had a love for vintage t-shirts and created arguably the most ridiculous collection of them. He’d lay around his apartment using rags soaked in Clorox to bleach various parts of them and would use razors to intricately cut rips, holes, and fringe type of styles into the material. As his little sister and favorite muse, I reaped the benefits of either stealing them out of the closet that was specifically for them without a verbal lashing or he’d run around the city grabbing shirts for the both of us to create matching masterpieces that we’d go out in. He made this Motley Crue top about four years ago, here in Miami, after we spent the morning running around visiting numerous thrift shops. By that night, I was wearing his bleached, distressed, and slashed up creation while tossing back Jamaican rum and tooting my tail end up towards the ceiling as we danced to reggae, soca, and kompa classics at some little hole in the wall spot in Little Haiti. Now I’m wearing this top as an armor; a piece of him to cling to me and console me through what I wish he was here to hold my hand for. A mixture of tough and soft love; the soft often edged out the tough and he happily basked in his position as my earthly protector from all. Though it’s just threads of fabric, it’s a representation of the embodiment of him being threaded within me; within my soul. Knowing that should be enough to hold me up as I sit before two lawyers and my husband.

“Autumn, it’s mom.” She’s the only person who calls and announces her title and relationship just about every single time as if her name and number aren’t stored in my phone book or her position in my life hasn’t been engraved into my being for twenty six years. Occasionally it’s funny, but today, I am in no mood for my mother or her sometimes intentionally annoying antics.

“Hey.” I glanced between the black and white classic Converse All Stars and the Sophia Webster sandals resting on the bed and opted for the sandals. The black, pink, and orange cameo effect on the knotted cage shoes is a perfect pair with the shorts and vintage tee. Their vertiginous height would further enhance my legs.

“Where are you honey? Lauren and I landed about forty five minutes ago and we’ve checked into the hotel. We’re going to change and I figured we could catch an early brunch. Heather’s bridal shower isn’t until later on and we’re starving. What do think?”

“That sounds nice but I cannot join you. I’m extremely busy. You two go ahead and enjoy yourselves.”

“Surely you can take an hour of your time to spend it with your mother. I’m not negating your time consuming tasks but come on. I feel like I haven’t seen you in weeks. I’d like to have a meal with my child.” I listened to her huff as a bit of guilt slithered through my frame. Between work and this divorce, she’s accurate about us seeing less of one another but this is what she wanted. I’ve been living in her home and under both she and my father’s care for about two years now. After my release from the hospital, I’ve been cooped up in my second floor bedroom, wallowing in depression and boredom, for far too long. Dr. Jill has been my only escape and I had nothing to say to the woman for quite some time. My mother’s been nudging and persuading me to pick up and move on with my life; to let Andreas go and become anew again. Now that I’m officially working towards that, she’s questioned my job, my whereabouts, and now, how I’m using my time. She’s arguably the most backwards person I know.

“I can’t. Maybe another time? Possibly tomorrow if you’ll still be in town.”

“You gave me the same excuse when you came home two days ago.”

“I had to get ready to travel down here. You cannot fault me for that. You’re not being fair.”

“Okay. I apologize. I just miss you that’s all. It’s what us moms do. I worry. I’ll let you go and I’ll see you at the shower. Okay?” The defeat in her tone heightened the guilt within me as I finished pulling up the zipper on my right foot sandal. They older I’ve become, the harder it is to censor myself and cater to her need to shower me with her endless affection and meddling. Maybe it’s not my age but rather my circumstances. Affection is just not what I need right now; it’s not what I want.

“Okay.”

“I love you honey. Lauren says hi.”

“I love you too. I’ll see you later on.”

I tossed my phone on the bed; leaving her to end the call and quickly headed in the bathroom to apply another coat of the gold shimmering and warm peach Yves Saint Laurent lip gloss I grabbed out of Sephora in the city just yesterday afternoon. I went on a last minute and extremely panicked shopping run for a dress appropriate enough for today’s festivities. I thought I’d be able to nab something out of my closet and be satisfied with that. There wasn’t anything that particularly grabbed my attention so Glen happily drove me from store to store until I found an entire ensemble for this afternoon. Sephora was my last stop. I needed to grab another bottle of my favorite Armani Luminous Silk Foundation. The additional lip glosses, tubes of lipstick, and mascara was just me spoiling myself for the hell of it and upgrading the mediocre make up collection I have in my parents home.

While heading in the direction of the suite’s door, I tossed the lip gloss in yet another bag I’ve taken out of my mother’s closet. This time it’s her pink vintage Chanel bag that I’m praying I return back to it’s original place on the wooden shelf before she can ever notice it’s missing. She’s given me permission to borrow whatever I like…unless it’s vintage. I’m sure to earn her infamous glare if she notices that it’s gone.

“Excuse me.” I stepped out of the elevator and picked up my pace as I neared the doors of the Mandarin’s entrance. I bid the doorman a proper thank you as I exited and immediately slid into the already opened back of the awaiting SUV. He’d been waiting for me for about twenty minutes now. I’d taken far more time than needed flat ironing my hair. I thought about it curling it but the Miami humidity would have ruined it as soon as I stepped out into it.

“I’m heading to two six six five South Bayshore Drive.” As the driver closed the driver’s side door behind himself, he glanced at me through the rear view mirror and nodded his head with a small smile.

“That’s about fifteen minutes away from here ma’am. Traffic is down. We should be there shortly.”

“Thank you.”

I was looking forward to him forewarning me about a bit of traffic or even abruptly running into a bit of it on the way there. I’ve stalled myself with the flat ironing and I needed yet another interruption to mentally prepare myself for what’s to come. I’ve rehearsed lines, coached myself into avoiding all possibilities of crying, and mentally beat myself down to a pulp so Andreas wouldn’t be able to do it to me. I’ve run down every possible emotionally insulting, dismissive, and unreasonable comment he could verbally slap me with and I meshed the tears in with the running water immersing from the stainless steel shower head as I cleansed myself. The last time I had a genuine meltdown over that man, I woke up with tubes all over the place and the reddened eyes and distraught expression of my mother’s beautiful face. I will not give him that power once more. More than anything, I will never do that to my mother again. I will never forget my father tensely describing how her piercing screams rang out throughout their entire home as she clutched my body in her arms and wailed to God for my life. She pleaded and offered him all, including her own life, in exchange for mine. My father described what seemed like a shell of himself as he watched the paramedics wheel me out of the house. Though I wish I could have seen it myself, he described a frantic Issac who used his boisterous voice and intimidating demeanor to nearly bully the hospital’s staff and two of it’s board members to make sure the best of the best were in charge of my care. Their promises didn’t stop him from calling friends and friends of friends who could reach out to some of the best neurologists in the country. Even when I was awake and just about completely alert, it didn’t stop him from walking the hall giving orders as if he were recently appointed the Chief of Staff. I don’t live for them but I do take their love into consideration. Enough is enough. I’ve exhausted all of them, including Heather, with this part of my life. I no longer have the will power within me to further it.

I thought of you when I woke up this morning and I’ve contemplated on whether I should send this or not for a couple of hours. My conscious won the battle. I wish you all the best today. Let me know if you’re okay later, please.

My fingers tapped along the screen of my phone and it was my turn to contemplate if I should say anything to him. My pain won the battle as I clicked the lock button and slid it back into my purse. Thoughts of Dante seized my brain as soon as I checked into the Mandarin yesterday. This has become my go to hotel whenever I’m in Miami since meeting him and I’m reminded of the time we spent together together watching the moonlight dance along the Biscayne Bay. Whenever I go to and from the entrance, I cannot refrain from flashing back to the evening he was standing there waiting for me. Because of the incredible time he showed me at Palmeiras, I’ve booked the beach club for Heather’s bachelorette party. We parted on somewhat of a confusing note after such a sublime time in Paris, but it was necessary to minimize any further assumptions or confusion we may form between one another or at least on my end of what has already crossed the line of professionalism. I miss him and that should be forbidden within itself. With every conversation and moments spent exploring some location in the world I’ve never experienced before, I bask in how cultured he is and it heightens my avidity to learn more from him. The glances into his penetrating almond shaped brown eyes and his overall striking countenance entices my body in manners that leave me mentally abashed. His mannerisms and demeanor reek of power, control, and a confidence in who he is that serves as a representation of his masculinity and leadership within his manhood. His allure nearly has me in a choke hold and my internal battle against it has resulted in nothing more than multiple loses.

Issac would not only fire me but he’d verbally rip me to shreds of nothingness if he picked up on even the slightest hint of Dante and I being anything beyond employer and employee. He’d then turn it into yet another example of me being an impulsive, irresponsible, and childish “rebel” and further feed into my family’s quiet thoughts about my lack of self control and responsibility. I’d be the subject of company gossip and never escape the unwavering scrutiny about the perks I am sure to be receiving in exchange for me possibly sleeping with one of the company’s wealthiest clients. Rachel would scold me for having followed in the footsteps that she warned me about. Lastly, I’d have to berate myself for treading into uncharted waters once more. To expect a different result this time would be absurdly foolish.

“Ma’am. Your destination is just one building down.” He interrupted my chain of thought as he pointed towards the window and I nodded my head as I secured my bag over my shoulder.

“You don’t have to get out. I got it. Thank you.”

The warm air was the perfect contrast to the chills running down my spine as I neared the front entrance. Upon my entry, the cool central air blew at me with an unexpected force as soon as I stopped at the wall directory to search for the appointed floor of suite twelve zero four. The elevator ride up was filled with the churning of my stomach and the spinach omelette I forced myself to eat for breakfast began to reappear at the very end of my esophagus. I could barely subside the contents from threatening to completely come up into my mouth. As the ride came to an end and the metal doors slowly pulled themselves apart, my feet began to drag themselves down the hall. The sound of my heels scraping the marble caused a faint ringing in my ears. I could only wonder if my purposeful lagging aggravated the receptionist who leaned over her desk to find the source of the noise. The smile on her face caught my attention but her greeting never registered. As my eyes landed on the woman comfortably waiting in a leather black lounge chair, my stomach suddenly dropped to the heels of my feet and my throat tensed until it was tight enough to bring me to the brink of suffocation.

The future Mrs. Andreas Scott Harrington sat back in her seat staring at the double doors of the conference room with a visible expression of incertitude. As her fingers danced along her extremely protruded belly, a soft sigh slipped past her lips and finally, she turned to find me within her presence. She froze, as her glistening skin suddenly flushed into a hue of pink and her brown eyes widened in unison with her mouth falling agape. My expression remained blank as I glared at a small piece of the puzzle that is my pain. Beyond Andreas’ actions, I’m disappointed in her as a woman. It’s her stubbornness and willful blindness about her participating in the demise of my marriage that urges me to slap the shit out of her on my worse days and leaves me shaking my head on my calm ones. I cannot fathom how she isn’t capable of hypothetically putting herself into my shoes and fearing that she too will be on the other side of this happy life she believes she’s created with him one of these days. Does she believe that the universe and the way this world turns will always work out in her favor? Will their recklessness have no consequence? The bliss clearly isn’t forever; or maybe that’s just my story.

“Mrs. Harrington you’re right on time. Everything is all set up in the conference room. Mr. Harrington arrived just a few minutes ago.” I nearly choked at the sound of my marital name and the grimace on Amber’s face sparked my own. Suddenly I felt like nothing more than a forgotten about possession on Andreas’ memorabilia shelf in his office within our home. We both belong to him. The man has his wife and pregnant mistress within the presence of one another as he sits in a conference room anticipating himself finishing off the shattering of one of our hearts. Though I didn’t expect to see Amber lingering around awaiting this entire process to be over, I am not surprised that she made the decision to attend. What intrigues me about this woman’s presence is her lack of glee. There’s a tension radiating from her dainty frame that wasn’t so apparent when we crossed paths in my kitchen. The confidence has receded and the questioning look her eyes holds a tale that I have no interest in knowing.

“Thank you.” I bid the tiny woman a small smile as I walked ahead and for the first time, I didn’t hesitate. I entered the conference room and closed the door behind myself; ending Amber’s determination to burn a blazing hole into my back.

“Ah. She finally arrives.” I glanced over at Sorrell Trope who held a smirk on his face that I wasn’t expecting to see. He’d been very displeased with my method of handling this divorce ever since our first meeting with one another and I only furthered his aggravation and disappointment whenever he’d plan out new strategies to make sure I left my marriage with a bank account filled with Andreas’ earnings.

“Hello.” I couldn’t force a smile or even muster up the strength to wave at any of them as Mr. Trope pulled out a seat for me on his side of the table. The set of eyes that I’d fallen head over heels in love with were observing my every move as I sat deliberately across from him. My internal challenge to avoid making eye contact with him already failed twice and I’ve only been in the room for less than a minute. He made it no easier by never breaking his gaze and nearly placing his hands towards the tips of my fingers as they rested on the table. The four stacks of papers and the two personalized pens to the right of the table caught my attention as a breath of air slowly flowed past my lips. They’d need my signature about a million times before this would be all over with.

“Hello Autumn. We haven’t met in person but I’m Raymond Rafool, Andreas’ lawyer. I’ve been in constant communication with Mr. Trope about the proceedings and the negotiating between both you and Andreas. You two opted out of continuing to go to the mediating sessions and there were no court appointed sessions that were legally required to attempt to move both you and Andreas towards a final resolution on the issues that stand between the two of you. There were no marriage counselors involved and if there were, they have no standing in this proceeding or any ones prior to this final step. There are no children involved so custody, visitation, or child support is not relevant to this proceeding or the settlement involved. In going back and forth between you two, there have been no issues in which you two absolutely cannot come to an agreement with one another on so there is no need for a trial. Honestly, that’s a good thing, because not only does that prolong this process but it is also costly and the results are less predictable depending upon what the circumstances of both parties are. Mr. Rafool have drawn up the legal paper work necessary to dissolve your marriage and we’ve both carefully looked over each document to assure that everything is absolutely the way you’ve requested.” His words were going into one ear and directly out of the other as I twirled my thumbs around one another endlessly and stared at the window directly behind Andreas. The blind shield my eyes from the world but I took it upon myself to imagine what was happening outside. Thoughts of half naked women cheerily skipping or skating down the sidewalk while immersed into lighthearted conversations about their activities about the night before and young men childishly howling in the direction while walking along in their summer garb; a few with surfboard strapped to their backs; was far more interesting to think about than this.

“Autumn.”

“What?” The harshness in my voice nearly startled me just as much as it did everyone in the room as I gave Andreas the attention he called for. In his usual fashion, he widened his ocean blue eyes at me and slightly shook his head in disdain for me answering him in such a manner. He always hated for me to snap at him or raise my voice though he often did it with me. Our shouting matches often became a competition for the two of us with me working my hardest to win. There were days I’d challenge myself to see just how quickly I could get him to walk away from me or walk out of our home in anger. I had to find the fun in my misery.

“Did you hear what Mr. Trope said?” I hadn’t even noticed he’d slid one of the stacks of paper in the middle of the table and he’d placed a pen in front of both and Andreas and I.

“Autumn. I know what we spoke about many times over our phone conferences and while I do understand how assured you are in your position, Andreas brought a second possibility to the table that he’d like to discuss with you. Well, we all will discuss it. You don’t have to agree to it. It is your legal right to refuse. Mr. Rafool handled every single detail precisely and I spent the last couple of days going over every single detail to make sure it is proper and fair.”

“What the hell did you do?” I turned to look at my husband again. I can’t stand to do another month, week, or even a day of this nonsense. I refuse to. I no longer have the will power to mentally prepare myself for every blow this gut wrenching process forcibly takes on my mind and heart.

“I want to give you twenty million dollars.” He leaned forward, with his elbows resting on the table, and he glared into my eyes in that all too convincing look he’d give me whenever he was either offering me false hope about something I wanted from him, bidding me a promise that he knew he’d break without ever considering it, and lastly convincing me to consider or do something that worked out in his favor far more than it did in mine. With his seniority in age, education, professionalism, and finance, he would always operate in a manner that reeked of him believing that he knew what was best for me without him ever verbally saying so. Initially, I didn’t bite back. I enjoyed having a man taking the lead and making sure I was in a good position without me ever having to request it but it also became my enslavement to his mind and deceptive behaviors.

“Twenty million dollars? You’ve gone from twelve to twenty? Seriously?” I laughed out loud as his jaw tightened. He tosses around these estimates and prices to buy me out of this situation with no regard for what all of this actually means. I’ve heard the commentary from media personalities. I’ve read around about the large sums divorcees have gotten from their significant others and I’ve seen the lavish lifestyles that they’ve living but I can only wonder if that clears their conscious of all of the hurt and anger that had to happen in order for them to attain it. Is that what it all comes to? Is that supposed to be redemption for all the damage on his end?  “No.”

“No? What do you mean no? You’re being senseless and you’ve been behaving that way since we began this process.” He knocked his knuckles on the table hard enough to draw three sets of eyes on him and I aloofly sat back in the chair with a shrug of my shoulders in response to what is most likely going to turn into a verbal attack on my intelligence, character, and personality.

“I don’t want your money. What part of that don’t you understand? You had me sign a prenuptial agreement because your obsessive and controlling mother dropped numerous hints into your ear about it and I did so without a fight. I didn’t question it. I even did so without a lawyer which is damn near illegal. I wasn’t thinking about your money before I signed it, when I signed it, and I’m certainly not thinking about it now. Keep it Andreas. You’ve earned it. It’s yours. It’ll be far more beneficial to you than it is to me. You don’t have to pay your way out of this. I’d just like to sign these papers and go. Let’s do what we originally came here for. Fuck all of these extra negotiations. This is a divorce. It’s not a business deal.” As he stood to his feet, his lawyer oddly stood along with him and he bewilderingly stared at Andreas as he walked around to my side of the table and pointed at the double doors.

“Can we have the room please?”

“What?” Mr. Trope questioned him in confusion and Andreas continue to point at the door.

“Can you two step outside. I’d like to speak with my wife in private.” My eyes widened and a sarcastic chuckle followed as the word “wife” echoed in my mind repeatedly. I haven’t heard him use that possessive term in quite some time and if I’m lucky, I’ll never have to hear him or anyone else ever use that word in reference to me again once I exit this building today. I failed at that position. I didn’t live up to the standard of what it means to be a wife and he never gave me the chance to redeem myself. At this point, I don’t even know what it means to be a wife nor do I ever want to know. I don’t ever want to be here, in this position again.

“Okay. Raymond, let’s give them some privacy. We’ll be right outside.”

As the door closed behind the two older men, I hoped Andreas would return to his seat but instead he stood, towering over my frame and roughly breathing over me as if we’d already been fighting for fifteen to twenty minutes like we usually do. Before we could make it past a longer time frame than that, he would have already locked himself in his den or grabbed his car keys and left out for a couple of hours; sometimes even for the rest of the day or night. I’ve spent more nights alone in our bed than I’ve spent cuddling with him because of the team being on the road, him traveling for business, or our feuds. I grew so accustomed to him not being in the bed to the point of it sometimes being uncomfortable when he was along side me. As the distance continued to grow between us and within our marriage, I found myself sleeping on the edge of the bed whenever he’d join me. Though our king size bed was sizable enough to keep a decent extent of space between our bodies, he had the tendency to roll into the middle of the bed and just about on my side, so being on the edge kept me away from him. I don’t sleep in the bed with anyone at all now and yet I still sleep on the very edge because of my habits with him.  

“Getting me alone isn’t going to help you convince me to take that settlement. You constantly talk about how stubborn I am but here you are not taking no for an answer. Now who’s the stubborn one?” I purposefully pushed my chair back to garner some space between he and I. As he backed away, I quickly stood up and stepped away from the table.

“Because I want to help you.”


“Bullshit. You want your conscious clear. That’s really what this is all about. You want to be able to walk out here knowing that you made sure I was alright, so you can move on with your life without guilt tripping over everything that happened to get us to this point. I wasn’t perfect but we’re not going to stand here and play like the blame balances out. Your part in this is far bigger than mine. You think that you can pay me to make this right?” With a sigh, he ran his hand down his face and shook his head in clear frustration. He couldn’t possibly feel any more frustrated than I do.

“This isn’t about me. This is about you. You have to start over and get back on your feet and you cannot do that with nothing. You’re currently residing with your parents. Don’t you want to be able to move out? Do you have a car in New Jersey because if I remember correctly, you don’t. You’re going to have bills to pay. You want to go back to school. Universities aren’t free. Graduate degrees aren’t free. You need the basic necessities and so much more beyond that. Instead of being stubborn, do this for yourself. Do this for the sake of your own happiness.”

“So that you can know and say that you’re responsible for it? This isn’t about me, it’s because you. I don’t care how you try to map this out. If I walk away with that settlement, literally anything that I do you will accredit to yourself and I don’t want that. I want to be able to say and know that I earned it, whether I have to struggle and bust my ass to be able to have it. I don’t want your charity Andreas.” As he took steps towards me, I took more than enough steps backward to leave me nearly on the opposite side of the room. The frown on his face was harsher than my own.

“You’ve been married to me for six years. When the hell have I become that arrogant? I have never thrown anything back in your face. Are you kidding me?”

“You didn’t have to say it. It was your actions. How don’t you understand that? Your demeanor said it all. I am beneath you. You have done and accomplished far more than I ever have. You are the bread winner. I was in a position of dependency which allowed you to damn near run all over me whenever you saw fit to do so. I had to stay in my place on so many decisions that you made for the both of us because I was merely your stay at home wife. That’s not arrogance. It’s control. You had all of the control and I’m not going to allow you to control my subconscious by doing this. I’m tired Andreas. I have fought for you, I have fought for our marriage, and I’ve fought to save myself in the midst of all it and I’m mentally exhausted. I reached the point of physical exhaustion and had a stroke. Stop fighting me. I don’t want to fight you anymore. I’ve given you so much of myself and now I’m giving you one final request. Give me something. Let me walk away with a peace of mind.”

“You don’t feel like I’ve given you anything in these past six years? Nothing?” For the first time in the past couple of years, I saw a glimpse of the kind hearted man I fell in love with during the final teen year of my life. Those beautiful eyes softened, the hardened expression on his face dissipated, and the undeniable charm that I immediately latched myself to on the evening we shared our first cup of coffee together in our favorite little cafe swarmed me and thickened the tension radiating between our souls.

“Lessons. I learned so many in these past six years. Our glory days were beautiful. It’s almost laughable to look back on that timeframe and then to fast forward to where we are now. It’s unbelievable but I should have known better. The signs were there. You didn’t want this. Your hesitance, questions, and fears were all there and I tuned it out; you did too. All of this isn’t on you. As I said, I have my part in it. I became so addicted to you and the love. I couldn’t slow down, turn back, or let it go. I believed you’d continue to give me a never-ending emotional high until the end of my days and I should have never given you that much responsibility. I put too much on you. I pressured you. You just didn’t put a stop to it. You saw all of this coming from the very beginning and you didn’t stop it. Our relationship turned into this speeding train and we finally crashed; leaving fatal damage. I learned a lot about myself. I have some growing up to do; certainly. I don’t have it all together and I need to work on myself for a while. I have quite a bit to figure out. You took care of me. I cannot deny that. I was housed, fed, clothed, and I had the finances necessary for leisurely fun but I don’t think you considered me to be your wife, Andreas. I was a responsibility; a bill. I don’t want to become a twenty million dollar bill. Take the money and put it into a trust fund for your unborn child. Just let this go. Please.”

Silence fell between the two of us as we solemnly stared into one another’s eyes. The minimal strength I’d mustered up earlier gradually began to unravel as my eyes began to ache and fail the battle. The stinging followed with a flush of salty water and the stream began to flow down my face with no sign of halting. A knot formed in my throat at the sight of the sea of blue suddenly being surrounding by a hue of red. As weakness entrapped him, he suddenly glanced away and gave me his back to see. His head seeped lower with eyes panning to the floor and his confidence faded into the abyss.

Without a second of hesitation, I opened the door and signaled for our counsel to return to the room. There was nothing more either one of us needed to say to one that mattered, would change our fate, or would heal the gaping scars we’ve left on one another over the years.

Our fate is sealed.

“We’ve chosen to go with what we originally settled on.” Andreas made the announcement of our final choice as I pulled a piece of tissue out of the box to the left of me and dappled the corners of my eyes. It became a pointless task as my abdomen tightened and another set of parting tears rapidly cascaded down my face.

“Okay. We’ve placed a sticker that says sign here next to every single place that needs your signature. Once you’ve placed your signature on all of the documents, you’re done here.”

My fingers reached for the maroon pen as Mr. Trope slid the packet directly in front of me and I spent just a couple of seconds staring at the first page of our ending before I began to sign page after page until I finally reached the very end. In one final step, I slipped my hand into the silk pocket inside of the Chanel bag and retrieved the two rings I donned on my left hand ring finger the past six years and carefully placed them on top of the packet before sliding it in his direction.

His eyes set on the rings and finally, on me. He then slightly nodded his head as I stood up and used the back of my legs to push the chair away. He opened his mouth to speak but his words remained stuck in his throat while I placed the strap of the bag over my shoulder.

“Goodbye Andreas.”

Those were the final words I said to my ex-husband as I exited the room and his life.

“All of the gifts go right over there on that corner table with the lavender lace.”

My eyes panned over the sea of pastels covering just about the entirety of the villas backyard space and I nodded my head in content of what Janice and I had done to appease Heather on one of her many special days. Though she slyly scolded me every now and then for slacking on my maid of honor duties, little did she know, her mother and I had been going back forth over multiple phone calls, text messages, and e-mails to get this bridal shower together in a timely manner. We already had the color scheme figured out. Heather is by far the most feminine woman I know. She basks in whimsical shades and gleams at all things dainty. What we couldn’t agree upon for a few weeks was the theme. We bounced around from website to website picking apart what has been done before and eventually settled on one of her favorite pastimes as a child: a tea party. The vintage materials and pastels as well as the outdoor setting were my ideas. We envision lacy umbrellas, tons of garland, glitter, personalized desserts and tea bags, tulle table skirts and pastel tissue tassels. Though she’ll tell you it’s cliche, her favorite flower is the rose so we made sure one of the best florists in Miami collaborated with the decorating team to cover every single area of the dreamy garden in peach, yellow, salmon, cream, lavender, and pink roses. The two murals of her childhood to adulthood and of her engagement photos were her mother’s added touch and mine was a table specifically dedicated to cosmetics since that’s her field of work. Whatever touches the guests needed to do to their make up before stepping inside of the photo tent would be at their disposal and if they arrived barefaced, the table would serve as tons of fun. There’s a candy bar, an actual bar for alcoholic and non-alcoholic cocktails, and a station filled with many desserts; my favorite being the cake pops shaped like teapots. We weren’t absolutely sure if we’d be able to pull this off flawlessly but I must say, we’ve been proven wrong. Heather’s been squealing and waltzing around since the event started.

“You look amazing Autumn. I love what you’re wearing. Also, long time no see.” Adrienne wrapped her tiny arms around my waist and I politely pulled her in for a hug. It has been quite some time since I’ve seen her. Usually we’d greet one another at the home games and share a small conversation before heading to our seats. Andreas and I also attended she and Chris’ wedding. At this point, she’s more of Heather’s friend than mine. I never mingled with the wives of the players much but now that she’s becoming one of them, she might as well form a few friendships.

“Thank you and yes, it has been a while. How are Chris and the children?”

“All is well. The kids are sprouting non-stop and don’t get me started on those little personalities. Trinity is five, Jackson is two, and Dylan just turned one.”

“Wow. Trinity is officially in school now.”

“Yes. She’s in the kindergarten and is loving it. How’s everything been with you?”

“All is well.” That’s the only response I could muster up while I silently prayed that she didn’t make this extremely awkward by treading into my personal life. The last person I want to speak about is my ex. You don’t have to hear it from me to be familiar with the story. The details of my divorce settlement are already circulating around the internet and the ink hasn’t even dried on the papers yet.

“Good. I’m glad to hear that. You make sure you keep in touch. You have my number. Whenever you’re in town, lets grab a bite to eat or head out to shop a bit.”

“Will do.” I most likely won’t. Actually, I know I won’t.

“And save that dress for me.” I nodded as we shared a small laugh over my choice of attire. The nude and mahogany Zimmerman dress wasn’t exactly the look I had in mind for this bridal shower but it was the perfect shade of nude to blend in decently with the pastels and most of all, it was cut and created in a manner to be cool enough for the Miami weather. I favor the Christian Louboutin pumps and all of their intricate laser detailing far more. If anything, they’re the stand out piece.

“I’ll do that too. It was great seeing you Adrienne.”

As I jealously eyed the open bar, I took yet another sip of the passion fruit flavored tea I’d been holding in my hand while silently wishing it would give me the side effects of loud giggles, overly done touchiness, and carefree vibes as the alcohol is already doing to the guests. Instead, I’m left with dry mouth; a side effect of the Lipitor I’d taken before I left the hotel. They can care less about the puffed pastries, the strawberry and cream tea sandwiches, the prosciutto crostini with fennel slaw, or the smoked salmon and egg canapés. They’ve been drinking and mingling since their arrivals while showering Heather with alcohol influenced marital advice; most of it being about sex. I even overheard Lauren spilling a bit of gossip about she and Issac’s spicy bedroom life, which nearly left me regurgitating the mixture of salmon, mayonnaise, and herbs. I internally cringed and nearly felt like an adolescent as all the women, including Janice and my ever classy mother, chimed in on intimacy and I took a vow a silence while the yard full of married women bestowed their expertise on Heather. Despite the topic, I’m pleased that she’s having this moment to speak with women who’ve gained more than enough experience to be offering sound advice. I didn’t have that and honestly, I didn’t want it. I dived in head first, believing that I’d figure it out along the way and didn’t need the support or guidance from anyone. I was fooled.

“I sent your father a photo I snuck of you today and he said that you remind him so much of myself when I was around your age. I think so too but you’re just so much more stronger and beautiful.” As she sat along side me, she ran her long fingers through my hair and planted a kiss on my cheek. The glow on her face matched the nude pencil dress she chosen to wear for the afternoon; most likely designed by Victoria Beckham. Our matching wasn’t intentional nor was it surprising. We tend to think alike in the fashion department from time to time. I learned all of what I know from she and Shane.

“He always says that.”

“He does. He knew that you’d be somewhat of another version of myself when I found out I was pregnant with you. I didn’t think I’d ever have a daughter but a blessing came when I least expected it. My little girl.” Another kiss followed her response and I withheld the sigh I so badly wanted to let out. I love her dearly, but the affection isn’t helping. If anything, the hugs and kisses from these guests and my tender mother were breaking me down. I’ve been swallowing knots in my throat, quickly patting my eyes dry, and forcing smiles on my face since I walked out of that lawyers office and the difficulty to keep myself together is worsening.

“Hm.”

A few seconds of silence fell between us as she buried herself into her thoughts and suddenly she solemnly leaned her body toward mine.

“Autumn.”

“Mom, please don’t. Please.” I’ve omitted a lot from her, including my coming down her to finalize my divorce. I left her with the truth that I needed to be here for the preparations of this bridal shower but withheld everything else. I got myself into this alone and I didn’t want to hold anyone’s hand as I got myself out of it. She’s helped me more than enough and I love and cherish her for it. There is nothing she could have done for me earlier today nor did she need to be there to face him or my struggle.

“Okay.”

I left her at the table before she could press the issue again and to distract myself from my inner most thoughts, I began the Bridal Pictionary game Janice and I planned out. We split the guests into the two teams, with myself being on Heather’s and Janice being apart of the opposing one and we nominated one person from each team to be the designated artist. From a bowl, we pulled out phrases related to weddings and spent sixty seconds guessing for each turn. Our team took the lead until a tipsy Heather couldn’t figure out what was supposed to be a picture of her jumping the broom. Luckily, we won the Bridal Shower Bingo. The gift opening portion of the afternoon may have been the best part. To watch the bashful expressions on Heather’s face with each piece of sexy and provocative lingerie she held up for us to see was my highlight. Though I enjoyed watching her nearly fall out of her chair at the sight her most desired Tiffany holiday china my mother and I purchased as a joint gift, it was her facial expression when she held up the flimsy pink Agent Provocateur playsuit and the rose gold pasties I’d gotten to go with it. It was by far the worst of all of the sexy attire she’d been gifted and I took pride in that. It was payback for all of the moments she’s made me uncomfortable around some guys or said something extremely outlandish in front of my mother or brothers.

“So, I want to hug and kiss you and kick your ass all at once. All of this was so incredible. I can’t believe I ever slightly doubted you. You always come through for me. A tea party? Yeah, you’re my soulmate for sure.” Heather wrapped her arms around my waist and tightly hugged my frame from the side as she buried her face into the side of mine.

“I forgot to tell people everyone to wear those ugly hats that the white women wear at their tea parties but overall, I think it all came together well. I’m glad you enjoyed it. I can tell. Your breath reeks of vodka and cake.”

“I wish you had some vodka in your system for the bomb I’m about to drop on you.” As I turned to look at her, she grimaced in preparation for whatever annoying or bad news she had to give me. She’s never been great with bearing bad news. In most cases, she’ll avoid it until she cannot do it anymore and this is most likely yet another one of her cases of doing so.

“Mario invited Andreas to the wedding and you know that the RSVP comes with the option of a plus one, so of course he’s bringing Amber.” I can only imagine the whispers and stares when we’re all in the same room of two hundred guests, who are all familiar with our story whether it’s because they personally know both he and I or because they kept up with it via some credible gossip blog or sports site. I’m going to have to become an actress; outshining the likes of Viola Davis in her craft the entire night while also doing my best to keep my grudge holding mother from verbally lashing him until he combusts into a pillar of dust. We’ll avoid one another of course, or maybe he’ll purposefully greet me and pretend like we’re friendly despite our bitter parting. Either way, though I expected this to happen, I didn’t want or need her to confirm it.

“I figured. That’s his coach. Why wouldn’t he invite him?”

“You’ll be okay?”

“Sure.” No, I won’t, but it’s not my wedding. It’s Heather and Mario’s day and I’m willing to compromise just about anything for her wedding to be perfect. I love her enough for that.

“Oh and one more thing.” I finally let out that sigh I withheld at the table as I sat with my mother and she gave me a reassuring squeeze to let me know that this wouldn’t be as bad as the first.

“Please don’t tell me that he’s the best man.”

“No. He’s not. I was going to tell you that I changed your dress. I didn’t like the other as much, so I got you another one. You’re going to love it.”

“Heather.”

“Oh shut up. You hated the bow on the other dress anyway. This new one is sexy. It’s Elie Saab and it falls right in line with the different shades of pink concept that I wanted for my bridesmaids and maid of honor. Wait until you see it. Actually, why don’t you come and spend the night with me at the house tonight so that you can try the dress on. I’ll have Mario pick up Chinese from that place we love so much when we’re drunk, we’ll actually get drunk, and I’m thinking movies. We’ll do our favorites.”

“We’ll see.”

“Hey! It’s my day and if I want to have a slumber party, then you have to agree to it.” I thought about it for a couple of seconds and eventually nodded my head. She’s somewhat correct.

As quickly as she planted a kiss on my cheek is as quickly as she squealed and ran in the direction of her final surprise of the afternoon; Mario. We invited him to come at the very end of the bridal shower to brighten her day even more while also giving commentary of thanks to both he and Heather’s family and friends for coming out to celebrate their up and coming nuptials. As I looked on at the two, the idea was a brilliant one. The love radiating between the two as they stand wrapped up into one another’s arms and sharing kisses like they’re the only ones in the room is good enough proof that all of this is deserved and worth it. Most would say it’s too soon to tell but those two are going to go the long haul. They’re going to be just as in love when they’re old and grey with children and tons of grandchildren keeping them busy. She deserves this, they both do, but I’ve been on her comical, bumpy, and sometimes stubborn journey to find this kind of love and it’s finally proven to be worth it. A part of me feels like I’m losing her but overall I’m excited to see what comes of this. I’m looking forward to becoming a God mother.

Autumn, are you okay?

As I retrieved my clutch bag from the table, I thought about an answer to Dante’s question as it remained in my inbox unanswered and the trembling of my hands answered for me. Early today, I quickly signed those papers and left out of there because I couldn’t bare to watch him walk away from me again but it didn’t make much of a difference like I thought it would. He’d already done that early on. I thought celebrating Heather would temporarily cease all thoughts of him but being surrounding by everything that represents love and unity only served as a continuous kicks in the back and vicious slaps to my face. Not even the medication is helping this.

“Hey. Are you okay?” Lauren grabbed my shoulder and stepped close enough to close the gab in between us. As she used her hand to gently caress me, I stared at my sister-in-law who I’ve refused to connect with in a manner that neither one of us expected. For the first time ever, I appreciated her.

“Yeah.” She could sense the lie but she didn’t push it. Instead, she nodded her head and finally stepped back.

“Tell my mom I’ll see her later. I’m heading out.”

“Back to the hotel?”

“Yeah. I didn’t sleep much last night and I’ve been up since early this morning. I’m tired.”

“Can I check on you later? Or I can just send your mom if you want.” The hesitance in her tone softened my approach with her yet again.

“Sure.”

“Me?” Her eyes widened as she pointed at herself and I gave her a head nod to reassure what I meant.

“Yeah, sure.”

If I’m going to change, I have to change my approach overall and I’ve taken the wrong steps with Lauren. She’s never done anything wrong to me and yet I’ve sort of used her as an outlet for my unresolved issues with Issac and the ones beyond him. I’m not sure how severely I’ve hurt her or if even hurt her at all but I won’t do it again. She’s family and I need to treat her as such.

While sitting in the back of the chauffeured SUV, I began another session of patting and wiping at the corners of my eyes. This time I wasn’t working hard to preserve my make up. I finally let the tears ago. Now, I just want to keep the stains of mascara off of my dress.

No.

I gave him the honesty that I’ve yet to falter on thus far.

I figured that you wouldn’t be. No one is okay after something like that. Are you still at Heather’s bridal shower?

As the rays of the sun began to slowly disappear into the sky, I glanced out at the beauty of the sunset and did my best to bask in it’s serene nature.

No. It’s over with. I’m heading back to the Mandarin.

Somehow, I could picture him sitting back in his posh office, clothed in a Tom Ford three piece suit, while glancing out of his large windows at the unparalleled New York City skyline. The visual eclipsed the sunset. The sense of tranquillity that rushes through me whenever we’re in one another’s presence or connecting through some means of communication is by far the most confusing and yet addicting feeling I’m currently facing. I barely know this man and yet I’ve already fooled myself into believing that it doesn’t matter.

You want to talk about it?

Well of course you don’t want to talk about it. You probably don’t even want to think about it even though you can’t help but to do so. We always wish the hardest parts of our lives could just erase themselves from our mind once we’re in the midst of the aftermath but it never works out that way.

He’s accurate.

Wishes don’t always come true.

I learned that the hard way.

They don’t because wishes are desires without an attempt. You’re going to be okay. Soon enough, you’ll believe that and knowing you and how much of an intelligent, strong, and hard working person you are, you’ll began to work on actually attaining what you wish for. For now, stop going through this alone and lean on someone. You need that.

I paused and reread all of his words of encouragement, including his accuracy towards the very end.

What makes you so sure that I’m going through this alone?

I never mentioned or even alluded to that when speaking with him.

Because you shut me out. I’m sure I’m not the only one.

I glanced up as the SUV came to a halt. We ran into the traffic that I was wishing for earlier. The city failed me.

I apologize. I just had to get my mind right. You understand that, right?

I’m sure he does. He rubs me as the type of person to do the same thing whenever he needs to figure things out.

I do. There’s no need to apologize. I’m not holding that against you. You can’t get through this on your own and you don’t have to. Start opening up about this beyond Dr. Jill. Everyone may not experience the same hardships but we’re human so we do have the capability of understanding.

This man has become my own personal Buddha or motivational book. Like Shane, he always has a logical answer to everything. I don’t know how he does it.

Lately I’ve been around you far more than anyone else. I think my mother’s slightly jealous and she doesn’t even know you.

I know she’s scolded Issac for giving me that job. She won’t say that she hates it but I know she does.

You want to take some time off?

Absolutely not. I can’t bare sitting up in my bedroom anymore. I’ll go insane.

No.

I kicked off my pumps for comfort and tossed both of my legs up on the backseat. Suddenly, the traffic didn’t matter.

Well, my shoulder’s ready then. I play basketball a lot but I suck at working out so it’s kind of soft. You can talk my ear off, cry, slob, sneeze or whatever else. Now snot is gross but you get one pass for that. Just one.

For the time time today, I let out the most genuine and loudest laugh I could muster up. I don’t think I’ve ever slob, sneezed, or blew snot on anyone but the thought of embarrassing myself by doing it to him tickled me.

I don’t slob or drool. I’m not snotty either. No need to worry about that.

As I imagined doing it, I giggled even more. I’d never.

Well then the shoulder’s yours.

I smiled. I know I’ll cry again today, tomorrow, and for some time to come but it feels so good to just freely smile right now.

Thanks for letting me rent your shoulder.

Now I can see him walking around his office as he texts me, effortlessly turning his charm into words as he types away on his iPhone’s screen. His blazer is most likely resting on the back of his chair and his broad shoulders are standing tall.

Rent? No take backs. It’s yours to lean on whenever you need to. So I guess that means you own it.

My head fell against the window as I read that text three times, prompting the driver to glance back at me through the rear view mirror. He’d officially thrown me off course; off track. Whatever you want to call it.

Okay, well thanks for letting me have your shoulder.

I’m not sure if I’ll actually lean on it, but it’s nice to have the offer extended and it be genuine. He’s a great person and he continues to prove that time and time again despite our differences.

You’re welcome. I’m here if you want to talk. I’m here if you don’t want to do that as well. Alright?

I nodded my head as the thoughts of Dante in his office slowly vanished. I returned my attention to the horizon, allowing the last of the faint rays to illuminate my face before the faintly twinkling stars took over the skyline. Peace surrounded me and suddenly my shoulders didn’t feel as heavy. The weight of my burdens temporarily subsided.

Alright.

[chaoswillfallrpg]

CLARICE FARIBAULT is THIRTY-FOUR YEARS OLD and a PROSECUTION BARRISTER in THE DEPARTMENT OF MAGICAL LAW ENFORCEMENT at THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC. She looks remarkably like MICHELLE TRANCHTENBERG and considers herself NEUTRAL. She is currently TAKEN.

→ OVERVIEW:

tw: death, blood, violence 

Born into an extraordinary family, Clarice Faribault’s upbringing would not be comparable by many and to this day remains her darkest secret. The eldest daughter of theatrical vampire MARIUS FARIBAULT, Clarice was not alone for long before the birth of her younger half-sister GEORGINE. Her mother VICTORIA LEWIS had been born and raised in London, attending Hogwarts and working in a shop in Diagon Alley before meeting Marius. Clarice was born out of their intense love for one another and the hope that after she was born Victoria would be given the dark kiss. But sadly as he had been his previous wives Victoria would not live to care for her daughter and died before she could even hold her. Raised amongst the creatures that populated her father’s theatre, Clarice had no close contact with the outside world beyond her family. In the absence of their mothers, Clarice’s father attempted to be both mother and father to them, showering his daughters in love and affection and giving them all their hearts desired. Clarice growing up had never wanted much. Training to be a ballerina was what made her happy, the precision and control of all the dancers she learned from in the theatre was where she was most at peace watching the half-veelas twirl and sing. 

Whilst the theatre satisfied Clarice, it was not enough for her younger sister. Though Marius bought every dress and doll her heart desired she would always want more, screaming loudly and taking tantrums that would burst the crystals in their chandeliers and crack the porcelain in some of her dolls. When Georgine grew jealous of her sister she became spiteful, tearing up her books and dresses into tatters with the flick of her wrist as she grew into her powers. Despite her moods Clarice loved her sister, channeling any anger she felt into her dancing to ease her mood. Hogwarts was a blessing for Clarice, having been the school her mother attended she relished the chance to move away from home and learn more about the world her mother had come from. Sorted into Slytherin, she quickly realised being at school with witches, wizards and sorcerers would be very different from the sheltered life she had led in Paris. At Hogwarts your blood type was what defined you. Children born to Muggle families were ridiculed, whilst people in her classes feared vampires as monsters of the night who murdered their families in their thirst for blood. 

Having not known her mother and remembering fragments of Georgine’s mother, Clarice could hardly argue with the assessments made by her classmates. Her kind was bloodthirsty and although she felt human it was clear that when the blood moon rose Clarice became blood starved and ravenous, a side of herself she feared more than anything else. Concealing her blood type from her classmates she posed as a Half-Blood student, befriending fellow Half-Blood Slytherin student NATASHA DUPONT in an effort to appear more normal. A naturally quiet person only Natasha could rouse any fun from Clarice and encourged her to be more forthcoming in her opinions and attend parties held in the castle. Clarice had always thought no one but Natasha really noticed her until RICHARD ELLINGTON approached her at a party in the Slytherin common room one evening. Richard was famous amongst their house for his beauty, but after one small chat with him Clarice had seen right through him. Having grown up with veelas she felt somewhat immune to his charms which only made him pursue her harder. Clarice had been a difficult woman to catch but once their romance began to blossom it was full of passion and intensity that only two people as strong as them could withstand. 

Graduating two years after Richard, Clarice moved into his apartment in London and underwent Auror training in the hopes of becoming a Prosecution Barrister for Wizengamot. Though there was beauty in what her and her family were she knew creatures caused great pain within the wizarding community. Knowing the lives her family had taken weighed on her conscious daily and with her knowledge and background of magical creatures she knew she could help. Making friends amongst the other trainees including fellow aspiring barrister GIVA PATIL, Clarice passed her exams with flying colours before she was chosen by CECILY GREENGRASS who she studied under for several years. A cold woman, Cecily pushed Clarice to her very limits, sending her on pointless errands and making her work round the clock to prove she was hungry and determined enough for the job. Working under Cecily was diffuclt but by the time she had become a lawyer and began winning cases for the Ministry on her own it had all felt worth it. With her caseloads piling up, Clarice sought the help of an assitant, choosing to train hopeful barrister AMELIA BONES as her first protégé. Amelia reminded her a lot of herself and although she was tenacious in her teaching she was kind to Amelia and grew fond of her.

Helping put dangerous criminals behind bars, Clarice was incredibly happy with her life. She had an amazing working enviroment and someone to come home to each day who loved her. When Richard proposed to her one evening in late spring she couldn’t have been happy accepting immediately and sending an owl off to her sister to share in her good news. Clarice hadn’t expected Georgine to show up on her doorstep to meet Richard, but with work begining to pick up as more people went missing she hoped the apperance of her little sister might help better entertain her fiancé. Little did Clarice know Georgine would take Clarice’s request to keep her fiancé busy a little too seriously. All the signs had been there. Small glances, the odd flinch here and there but Clarice had ignored it believing herself to be paranoid. It had taken two years before Clarice could no longer pretend it wasn’t happening. Standing in the doorway of her apartment home early from work she watched Richard and Georgine scramble for an excuse to give her though it was obvious to see what had happened. Sliding her ring off her finger, Clarice slammed it down on the dining room table and left without saying another word to Richard or her sister. 

Something broke in Clarice that day. She had felt pained her whole life, so unlovable to the world due to what she was she had chosen to live a lie. Clarice had worked hard to convict all the people she had to try and inject goodness into the world and make up for the sins of her and her family, but what did she have to show for it? As she stood outside Natasha’s apartment, soaked through in the pouring rain with her closest possions she made a promise to herself. She would never let anyone get as close to her againas Richard and her sister had. Those closest to her found her changed aftet that. Amelia noticed it first. The sarcastic expression and poisonous edge to her tongue seeping into her once kind features. The BOOKER BAGNOLD case has come at the best time for Clarice. A busy case she spends her evenings in research trying to poke holes in RODOLPHUS LESTRANGE’s defence to ensure SILAS CRUMP goes away for the murder of the Minister’s son. Wanting to think like Rodolphus, Clarice has sought the help of hunter HENRY GRIFFS as an expert she hopes to put on the stand. Though the two are simply acquaintances and outwardly she has already grown tired of his flirtatious tone, privately Clarice has been enjoying getting to know him though she grows nervous of him finding out about her true identity as the date of the trial nears.  

→ ADDITIONAL INFORMATION:

Blood Status → Half-Blood (Half-Vampire)

Pronouns → She/Her

Identification → Cis Female 

Sexual Orientation → Pansexual 

Relationship Status → Single

Previous Education → Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Slytherin) 

Societies → N/A

Family → Marius Faribault (father), Georgine Fairibault (half-sister), Marcus Faribault (cousin)

Connections  → Natasha Dupont (best friend), Giva Patil (close friend), Adaira Linwood (close friend), Poppy Pomfrey (close friend), Amelia Bones (close friend/mentee), Richard Ellington (ex-fiancé/adversary), Cecily Greengrass (former mentor), Silas Crump (person of interest), Henry Griffs (acquaintance/potential love interest)

Future Information → N/A

CLARICE FARIBAULT IS A LEVEL 8 WITCH/HALF-VAMPIRE.