#oc: grace bellerose

[jentucker]

I started posting the backstory for my RDR2 fic OC, Grace. The thing that bothers me the most about it is all of the historical inaccuracies even after doing a fuckton of research. But the truth is, facts started to get in the way of the narrative. And besides, my BFF who is a real life historian with a doctorate and everything said it’s fine. 

Anyway, here is the fic if you want to read an original story. 

And here is a pic of the main characters, Grace and William. 

Grace’s image is one I made in artbreeder a year or two ago so she definitely does not have an historically accurate hairstyle. The picture I chose for William is a portrait of Sir Isaac Brock I found from Brock University. It wasn’t very clear on who the artist is, but this is pretty much exactly as I pictured William. 

[wistfulwanderingone]

The Fated Macaron

Fandom: Ikemen Prince

Characters: Yves Kloss, Licht Klein, Cassandra (OC); (Clavis X OC story AU)

Summary: After embarrassing herself in the palace ballroom, Cassandra meets two young men

Word Count: ~5000

Timeline: 2 years after Bloodstained Rose Day, 8 years before the "Belle" year.

A/N: Introducing my new OC Cassandra (paired with Clavis Lelouch).

Thank you @dododrawsstuff for the art piece of Cassandra with her friends. Be sure to check out her page if you haven't! She's amazing!

@aide-falls @candiedcoffeedrops You will hopefully enjoy this!

The Fated Macaron

Standing in the entryway to the palace ballroom, Cassandra Bellerose smoothed the pale pink fabric of her gown for the umpteenth time. This room alone was more regal and elaborate than even her family’s own ballroom. Crystal sconces lined the wall, casting a warm glow over the room and reflecting off the polished marble floors and gilded mirrors. The air was thick with the scent of fresh flowers and expensive perfume, and the hum of conversation buzzed like a hive of bees from behind the immense double doors before her.

She glanced at her reflection in one of the mirrors and frowned. Her emerald eyes, framed by long dark lashes, stared back at her, wide and anxious. They reminded her of a doe caught off guard in the woods. Freckles, a rare and despised trait among nobles, dotted the bridge of her nose despite her mother’s attempts to cover them with face powder. Her rosy cheeks, flushed from the nerves and heat of the room, seemed to expose her every nervous thought. She wore the family colors of pastel pink and gold, her gown a delicate confection of silk and lace that shimmered with every step. The dress was beautiful, but it felt like a stiff costume, a mask used to distract from her own flawed true personality. She noticed a stray strand of brown hair escaping her meticulously crafted updo, stubbornly refusing to stay in place despite her best efforts. Tucking it back with a sigh, she couldn't help but feel the familiar sting of insecurity. Was she pretty enough? Graceful enough? Worthy of the attention that would fall upon her and her family tonight? Would she embarrass them? Disappoint them? Fail them? Would the perfectly crafted mask slip and reveal her true self and ruin her family?

As she followed her family toward the broad doors, each step felt like she was walking a tightrope. The doors opened, and she watched as her sister and her husband stepped into the light and the herald announced them. “Presenting Comtess Evangeline Bellarose-Toussaint and her husband, Comte Tristan Toussaint.” Beautiful Evangeline glowed like the confident, radiant rose she was, and her handsome, aristocratic husband smiled as all eyes turned to look at them.

Cassandra knew she couldn’t even begin to compare to the beauty and perfect grace her sister personified. Still, she took a deep breath and stepped forward beside her parents. It was all she could do not to jump as the herald’s loud voice boomed beside them. "Presenting Marquess and Marchioness Bellerose and their daughter, Lady Cassandra Bellerose."

Her parents led the way, their posture perfect, their expressions serene. Cassandra, bringing up the rear, felt every gaze in the room turn towards them. The walls seemed to close in on her, but she kept her head high, the lessons drilled into her by her parents echoing in her mind. Be graceful, be poised, be perfect. Do not frown. And absolutely do not trip on your dress. The weight of their expectations pressed down on her, making her shoulders stiffen, but she forced herself to smile, her emerald eyes scanning the crowd. The room was filled with nobility; each face more resplendent than the last, adorned in jewels and silks that shimmered under the chandeliers. But all she wanted was to find a quiet corner where she could disappear, avoiding any chance of causing ignominy for her family.

As they made their way deeper into the ballroom, Cassandra's gaze drifted upward, taking in the grandeur of the space. Brilliant crystal chandeliers, each of their facets catching the light, cast a warm, heavenly glow over the entire room. They hung from a high ceiling adorned with intricate frescoes, each depicting scenes of Rhodolitian myth and legend. The polished marble floors gleamed underfoot, reflecting the light in a way that made the entire room sparkle. The centerpiece of the floor was an elaborate mosaic of a rose, its petals unfurling in exquisite detail. Tall, arched, gilded windows, each framed in ornate gold, allowed the moonlight to stream in, adding a cool, silvery touch to the warm glow of the chandeliers and the myriad candles.

Everywhere she looked, there were fresh, fragrant roses adorning every surface, from the tables laden with fine china and crystal to the mantels and window ledges. The air was thick with their sweet scent, mingling with the more subtle notes of expensive perfumes the guests wore. It was a room designed and decorated to impress and awe, every detail meticulously crafted to create an atmosphere of elegance and splendor. Cassandra was in awe of the sheer beauty and opulence surrounding her. It was a scene straight out of a fairy tale, but her anxiety overshadowed her ability to appreciate it like she would have liked.

Her parents glided through the crowd with practiced ease, exchanging pleasantries and nodding at acquaintances. Evangeline and Tristan followed suit, basking in the adoration and admiration of the other guests. Cassandra, however, felt like an imposter. Her fingers brushed the delicate emerald necklace at her throat, a gift from her parents meant to enhance her beauty and status. But all it did was remind her of the expectations she could never quite meet. The necklace, though beautiful, felt like a chain binding her to a role she had never wanted, a constant reminder of her family's relentless ambition and expectations—things that she couldn’t even begin to desire.

Her eyes scanned the crowd again, looking for any familiar face, any friend who might offer her a moment of genuine connection in this sea of superficiality. The room was a blur of pastel gowns and dark suits, each person more resplendent than the last, yet all blending into a tapestry of indifference.

She knew it was hopeless—it always was. Everyone who spoke to her did so because of her family’s status or to secure a good deal on gems from their mine. Since her debut earlier in the year, men had begun to shower her with attention, but it was all for her family’s wealth and title, not out of any real interest in her. The polite smiles and flattering compliments felt hollow, their words thinly veiled attempts to curry favor with her influential parents. And why wouldn’t they use her in such ways? The only ranks higher than her parents in the kingdom were the royal family and the dukes. With her sister married into a count’s family, her family's wealth and title would eventually fall to her and whichever man married her.

Cassandra's heart ached from it all. She longed for true, heartfelt affection, someone to see beyond the glittering facade and see her soul—a soul that burned with passion and fire. She wanted to be free to be herself, chase her dreams, and be with someone whom she could love deeply and thoroughly and who would love her just as much in return. She hated this world of calculated alliances and strategic marriage. She wanted not part of it. But what other choice did she have? Such dreams seemed naive and unattainable. The reality of her circumstances was suffocating, where her every move was scrutinized and her every word measured and where no part of who she truly was could ever be permitted or welcomed.

As the evening wore on, her thoughts became unbearable. Cassandra's pulse quickened, and she desperately sought an escape from the overwhelming crowd. She needed a quiet corner to collect herself. Her steps became more hurried, and her breath came in short, anxious bursts.

Just as she spied a quieter corner, she collided with a waiter carrying a tray of champagne flutes. The tray tipped, and the delicate glasses tumbled to the floor, shattering with a loud crash at her feet. A collective gasp rippled through the crowd, and suddenly, all eyes were on her. The room seemed to hold its breath, the silence deafening.

Cassandra's cheeks flushed with embarrassment, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the weight of their stares, the judgment in their eyes. She dared to glance at her parents, whose faces were masks of polite disapproval, their perfect composure a stark contrast to her own flustered state.

Whispers of her clumsiness spread like wildfire through the room. She could hear the hushed words, the snide comments disguised as concern.

"Poor thing, always so awkward."

"Such a shame, considering her family's status."

"Perhaps she shouldn't have come out so soon."

Cassandra's vision blurred with unshed tears as she bent down to help the waiter pick up the shattered pieces. Her hands trembled, the sharp edges of the glass pricking her fingers. She forced herself to breathe and calm the storm of emotions within her.

A hand grabbed hers, squeezing gently. "My lady, I can take care of this. Are you alright?" the waiter asked, his voice filled with concern.

She nodded, unable to trust her voice, and managed a weak smile. "Yes, thank you. I'm so sorry."

As she stood, her gaze once again met the disapproving eyes of her parents. She could see the disappointment etched on their faces, a silent reprimand before they turned their noses up and walked away. Their scrutiny and judgment made it even harder to breathe.

Desperate to escape, Cassandra made a quick curtsy to the crowd before heading to the small alcove at the edge of the ballroom she had spotted before her collision with the waiter. The whispers followed her, but she forced herself to keep moving, however unsteadily, with her head held high, longing for a moment of solitude where she could gather what little remained of her composure.

At last, she pressed herself into the corner behind a large potted plant, desperately trying to keep her tears at bay. She took deep, shaky breaths, her fingers trembling as they traced the delicate emerald necklace at her throat. The fronds provided a fragile barrier between her and the bustling ballroom. Leaning back against the wall, she gazed up at the ornate ceiling, the intricate patterns blurring as she fought to keep her emotions in check. She felt like a fragile vase, carefully displayed and polished, yet always on the verge of shattering. Her eyes stung with unshed tears, shimmering like raindrops on the brink of falling.

The incident with the waiter replayed in her mind; the sound of splintering glass mingling with the murmurs of the guests, her parents’ dismay. Each one of their disapproving glances and words felt like a sharp dagger piercing her heart. 

Why do I care so much? She clenched her fists as her internal voice became harsh and unforgiving. Why does it matter what they think? Why do I try so hard to please everyone? But then, the reasons came flooding back, each one a tether that bound her to this life. The innate desire for her parents’ love and approval, the importance of the family name and it’s historical significance, and the fact that she was a seventeen year-old woman with no other prospects or ability to provide for herself. What other choice do I have? If she ran away, she'd be destitute, wandering the streets with no means to provide for herself. 

Over and over again, she reminded herself that this was her duty, her role to play, her only option, even if it felt like a prison. The thought of escaping, of living a life free from these constraints, was a tantalizing fantasy. But it was just that—a fantasy. She was trapped in this gilded cage, her wings clipped by obligation and reality, the bars forged from the iron of familial duty and societal pressure.

Finally, she began to feel a little bit calmer. Taking a deep breath she peered through the fronds of the potted plant, her eyes landing on a young man standing by the dessert table. He was the picture of flawlessness in his elegant pink attire, exuding an aura of nobility and refinement. His outfit was impeccable, every detail meticulously arranged. The tailored pink coat, adorned with intricate gold embroidery, complemented his delicate and beautiful face. His honey-blonde hair framed his delicate, porcelain features, and his sparkling blue eyes held an air of aloofness. Despite his haughty demeanor, a subtle unease flickered in those eyes. He stood there, a delicate statue of perfection, yet there was a fragility in his stance, a hidden vulnerability that resonated with her own feelings.

Cassandra recognized the look in his eyes; it was the same unease she felt in social gatherings. Her heart went out to him. The urge to comfort him, to offer some semblance of understanding, welled up inside her. Maybe no one would help her out of her own situation, but helping others had always been her refuge, a way to distract herself from her own struggles and to make someone else’s day better.

Then she noticed something else about him. No one approached him, no one spoke to him. They glanced at him with a strange mix of judgment and unease. Once they had receded a few steps, they whispered. He remained aloof; the only sign he noticed was the faint movement of his Adam’s apple each time it happened. And suddenly, she felt even more akin to him.

As she watched, another figure joined him. Clad in blue and gold, his military-style outfit was simpler yet equally commanding. His silvery hair, tousled and slightly unruly, framed his pale, porcelain-like complexion and highlighted his sharp jawline and piercing red eyes. She couldn’t hear the words they spoke to each other, but he stood close to the blonde man, his eyes scanning the room with a protective intensity as he spoke. Despite his solemn, almost detached expression, there was a warmth in the way he stayed close to the first man as if giving him a sense of assurance.

Gathering her courage, Cassandra stepped out from behind the plant, her movements tentative. She reminded herself that helping others always made her feel better, and perhaps offering a kind word to these strangers would do the same. She made her way across the room, her eyes never leaving the blonde man. As she approached, she noticed the faint lines of tension around his mouth and the way his fingers fidgeted with the cuff of his sleeve. 

"These desserts look amazing, don't they?" she said, her voice soft, attempting to break the ice.

Both men turned their gaze to her. The blond one’s crystal blue eyes were wide and childlike before he narrowed them suspiciously. "If you’re going to compliment the desserts, at least have the decency not to spill anything on them," he replied, his tone brusque but not entirely unkind, as he turned back to the other man.

Cassandra felt a momentary sting at his words, but as she looked closer, she sensed something beneath his haughty exterior—almost like he was trying to hide his vulnerability. His eyes, despite their sharpness, held a flicker of uncertainty, a guardedness that intrigued her.

“I’ll be careful," she promised. “You seem to be guarding these sweets. If I didn’t know better…I’d think you had made them yourself.” She offered a gentle smile, hoping to break through his defensive facade.

Wide child-like eyes again, then a frown and rosy-red cheeks. “What did you say?”

The silvery-haired man beside him regarded her with a wary gaze. His striking red eyes seemed to bore into her as if he were assessing her intentions. Despite his guarded demeanor, Cassandra sensed a deep sadness and a fierce protectiveness in him, like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"Who are you?" the silvery-haired man asked, his voice low and guarded, as though bracing for a threat.

"Cassandra Bellerose," she replied, striving to keep her tone light and non-threatening, yet she felt a twinge of anxiety under his intense gaze. "I didn't mean to intrude. I couldn’t resist these desserts. It's not often I get to enjoy such fine sweets."

As she appraised the table, her eyes landed on a perfectly pink macaron sitting on a plate like a tiny, edible jewel. The delicate confection was too tempting to resist. Just as her fingers brushed its surface, the blond man nearly jumped at her.

"How dare you!" he squeaked, his voice a pitch higher than she expected. The blond man’s eyes were wide with shock and indignation, his perfect features contorted in a way that was both intimidating and oddly endearing. 

Cassandra froze, the macaron poised precariously between her fingers near her mouth, her heart pounding in her chest.  She could feel the tension crackling in the air, and for a brief moment, she was sure he was going to grab a cake knife and end her life.  The vibrant ballroom seemed to fade around her, the chatter and music muffled as if submerged underwater.

"I’m sorry," she managed to stammer, her voice barely audible over the roaring in her ears. "I didn't realize...I just thought...it looked so delicious." Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, and she wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole. Maybe coming over here wasn’t her brightest idea. No wonder her parents were always so nervous when they brought her to social events. The vibrant ballroom seemed to close in around her, its opulence and grandeur becoming suffocating as she stood there, the weight of her social faux pas pressing heavily on her shoulders.

"Yves," the silver-haired man said, laying a hand on his companion’s shoulder with a calm, steadying presence. “She didn’t know.”

“Didn’t know what?” Cassandra asked, her hand trembling slightly as she tried to decide what to do with the macaron. The delicate treat now felt like a burden, her fingers itching to put it back.

Yves didn’t seem capable of speech, his face a fiery red, eyes wide with indignation. He looked utterly scandalized, and Cassandra could see his lips moving wordlessly, struggling to form a coherent sentence.

The silver-haired man’s crimson eyes landed on her. Despite his stoicism, she felt an unexpected kindness radiating from him. "Yves made that for me. He said it would be my reward for attending this ball," he explained, his voice low and measured yet carrying a warmth that put her somewhat at ease.

Cassandra felt her cheeks warm even more as guilt filled her chest. She looked at the macaron, its vibrant pink mocking her, and then back at Yves, whose mortified expression tugged at her heart. “I am so so sorry,” she said earnestly, her voice quivering. She extended her hand to return the macaron to the silver-haired man, her movements tentative and apologetic.

"It’s alright," he said gently, taking the macaron from her hand. "Yves puts a lot of effort into his baking, and it means a great deal to him. Thank you for understanding."

Cassandra nodded, feeling relief and lingering embarrassment. "I do understand. And for what it’s worth, it looks absolutely exquisite. You have a real talent," she said, offering Yves a smile, hoping to convey her admiration and regret for the misunderstanding.

Yves's cheeks remained flushed, the fiery red slowly fading as he finally found his voice. He took a deep breath, his eyes flickering between the macaron in the silver-haired man's hand and Cassandra's apologetic expression.

“It’s...fine,” Yves managed to say, his voice still edged with irritation but noticeably softer. He ran a hand through his blond hair, a gesture that seemed to steady him as he smoothed it. “Just...be more self-aware next time.”

Cassandra nodded fervently, her own cheeks still burning with embarrassment. “I promise. I didn’t mean to offend you. I truly admire the effort and skill it takes to create something like this.” She glanced at the pink macaron with a newfound appreciation for the care and precision behind its creation.

The silver-haired man gave Cassandra a reassuring nod, his crimson eyes conveying a silent message of understanding. “I’m Licht, by the way,” he said. “And this is my brother, Yves.”

Cassandra smiled, feeling the tension in her shoulders ease slightly. “It's a pleasure to meet you both.” She gave a small curtsy, hoping to convey her sincerity through the graceful gesture. “Again, I’m truly sorry.” 

Licht cleared his throat and reached out to take her hand in his. “We can share this.” He placed the macaron gently into her hand, his crimson eyes looking so soft and sincere, if she didn’t know better, she’d think he was smiling.

Cassandra’s heart fluttered at the unexpected kindness. She met Licht’s gaze, feeling a strange connection form in the silent exchange. “I’d like that,” she said softly, breaking the macaron in half and offering one part to Licht. The delicate treat crumbled slightly in her hand, releasing a subtle fragrance of rose.

Licht took his half with a nod of thanks. Yves watched the exchange, his expression softening further as he saw kindness between them. 

As they each took a bite, the rich, floral flavors mingled on Cassandra’s tongue, and the macaron fairly melted in her mouth. “Mmm!” She couldn’t help the moan that escaped her lips. Yves truly was talented! “Rose and lemon…and is that a hint of lavender? I love lavender!”

Yves eyes widened, and his perfectly pink lips dropped open. “Yes it is. I can’t believe you could tell after one bite.”

Licht’s expression softened ever so slightly. “Everything Yves makes is really good.”

As he spoke, Cassandra noticed a flicker of something in his eyes—a longing, perhaps, for simplicity or joy. A sudden urge to understand him better and offer comfort or companionship welled up inside her.

"I believe it!" she exclaimed sincerely, her voice warm with appreciation as she turned back to Yves. "Baking requires a lot of skill and patience. You have quite the talent; this is the most delicious macaron I’ve ever tasted. And it’s so light and airy. I’ve never had success with making macarons, but I can make a mean mille-feuille.”

Yves’ cheeks turned an even deeper shade of red, making him look utterly embarrassed and, to her, even more endearing. He sighed and reached into his pocket, pulling out a handkerchief and handing it to her. "Here," he said gruffly. "You’ve got a bit of...something on your dress, Lady Cassandra."

Cassandra took the handkerchief, a bit startled by the unexpected kindness. "Thank you," she said, dabbing at the small spot she hadn’t even noticed. "You can just call me Cassandra, by the way."

"Don’t think this means you can just take whatever you want,” he stated, though his tone was much softer, almost teasing. “I’m very particular about who gets to eat my desserts and you’ve yet to pass the test."

She couldn’t help but smile at his haughty tone, sensing the warmth beneath his stern exterior. "I wouldn’t dream of it without your permission," she teased lightly, hoping to see more of his softer side.

His blush crept even higher up his cheeks, and he looked away. "Well, you’ve got my permission for now. Just don’t make a mess," he said turning back to her, his tone softer than before.

Cassandra took the last bite of the macaron, savoring the exquisite balance of flavors. The delicate shell gave way to a burst of rose and lavender, making her close her eyes and hummed to herself briefly in appreciation. 

She wanted to prolong the conversation and delve deeper into the lives of these intriguing strangers. But the crowded ballroom was stifling, and the weight of curious eyes felt like a tangible pressure on her shoulders. She glanced toward the tall windows, their glass panes reflecting the warm light of the chandeliers, and saw the garden beyond, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight. The thought of escaping to the tranquility of the garden, away from the prying eyes, was too tempting to resist.

"This room is getting rather stuffy," Cassandra said, her gaze shifting back to Yves and Licht. "Would you two like to join me for a stroll in the garden? It's much cooler out there, and we could continue our conversation..."

Yves looked hesitant, glancing at Licht for confirmation. Licht gave a barely perceptible nod, his expression unreadable. "Alright," Yves agreed, his tone begrudging but not unfriendly. "I suppose some fresh air wouldn't hurt."

What began as an attempt to make someone else feel good, to distract herself from her insecurities, had quickly blossomed into curiosity. She sensed that beneath their facades, these two young men harbored great depths of character. From Yves, she sensed a profound loneliness and vulnerability, carefully masked with his sharp tongue and haughty demeanor. Licht, on the other hand, exuded a subtle melancholy that intrigued her, hinting at a past filled with grief and unspeakable burdens. His silence and reserved manner suggested a heart that had endured far too much.

The cool night air was a welcome change from the oppressive heat of the ballroom, and the gentle rustling of leaves provided a soothing backdrop to their conversation. Cassandra found her heart opening up to them. She wanted to break through the walls they had built around themselves and offer something more genuine—friendship, perhaps, or understanding, whatever it was they needed. Her own struggles and her family’s expectations faded into the background. In that moment, she sensed a familiar yearning in them, one that mirrored her own desire for something deeper than the hollow exchanges of the ballroom.

Yves led the way to a secluded corner of the garden and a stone bench nestled under a flowering arbor. The scent of roses filled the air, mingling with the earthy aroma of the garden. 

"It's so peaceful out here," Cassandra said, looking up at the stars twinkling above and inhaling deeply. "I feel like I can breathe properly for the first time all evening." She settled onto the bench, gesturing for Yves and Licht to join her. 

Licht remained standing, his posture relaxed but alert, while Yves took a seat beside her, his expression softening slightly. The moonlight bathed his features, making the tension lines around his eyes less severe. "It is less insufferable out here," Yves remarked, his voice quieter. "I can't stand these grand events."

Cassandra nodded in understanding. "Neither can I. It's all so...overwhelming at times. But it's nice to meet new people, especially when they're as interesting as you two."

"You have very peculiar taste," Yves remarked, his voice carrying a touch of dismissiveness.

Cassandra laughed softly, feeling more at ease. "Well, I mean it. You both seem so...genuine. It's rare to find that in these circles."

Licht, who had been silent until now, finally spoke. "You're not like the others," he said, his tone contemplative. "You're different."

Cassandra looked up at him, surprised by the observation. "Different how?"

Licht's red gaze was steady, piercing. "You actually care. Most people here are only interested in appearances and status. But you...you're sincere."

Cassandra felt a blush rise to her cheeks and a mixture of embarrassment and gratitude swell within her. "Thank you," she said softly. "That means a lot. I don’t want to be like them.” She gestured towards the glass doors where they could see the nobles dancing. “Honestly, I feel out of place. I don’t want to lose who I am or what I feel…” but she trailed off and bit her lip. She was starting to talk too much, revealing too much of her inner emotions.

"It's exhausting, pretending to be something you're not,” Yves stated softly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. 

Licht nodded solemnly. 

“With us, you can just be yourself," Yves assured her, his voice softening with warmth.

Cassandra smiled, feeling a warmth spread through her. "Thank you." As the words left her lips, she felt a rush of vulnerability, almost embarrassed by how quickly she had opened up to them. The sincerity in their eyes reassured her, but the sudden rawness of her emotions left her feeling exposed.

As if sensing her discomfort, Yves cleared his throat. "So, Cassandra," he began, his tone taking on a conversational lilt, "what's your favorite dessert? I assume someone who enjoys sweets as much as you must have a preference."

Cassandra blinked at the unexpected question. The tension in her shoulders eased, and she was grateful for the diversion. "Oh, that's a tough one," she replied,  a smile forming on her lips. "I think I'd have to say lavender shortbread cookies. There's something about the delicate floral flavor combined with buttery sweetness that I just love."

Yves's eyes lit up with interest. "Lavender shortbread cookies, huh? A unique choice. Maybe... maybe you'd like to join us for afternoon tea next week? I could make some for you then." His cheeks turned an adorable shade of pink once again and he glanced away as if regretting the hasty invite.

"I'd love that." Cassandra's smile widened, feeling overjoyed at the invitation to spend more time with them. "And what about you, Yves? What's your favorite dessert to make?"

Yves leaned back, a thoughtful expression on his face as he gazed up at the night sky. "I enjoy making all sorts of desserts, but if I had to choose, I'd say éclairs. There's something satisfying about getting the choux pastry just right and filling them with rich, creamy custard."

"Yves's darioles are my favorite," Licht, who had been listening quietly, finally spoke up. 

The conversation flowed more easily after that. They shared stories, laughter, and even moments of comfortable silence. Yves’s sharp wit and Licht’s quiet strength became increasingly apparent, and Cassandra found herself drawn to their authenticity. The garden, with its fragrant roses and whispering trees, became a haven for them, a place where they could be themselves without the pressures of the ballroom. Cassandra felt an even stronger connection forming, a friendship that seemed to blossom under the stars.

It was only later, however, when a passing servant bowed deeply and addressed Yves and Licht as "Your Highnesses," that the realization dawned on her. Her eyes widened in shock, and she turned to them, her voice barely above a whisper. "You're...you're princes?"

Yves gave her a rueful smile, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "I suppose we forgot to mention that part."

"Does it matter?" Licht's expression remained unreadable as he watched her with his crimson eyes, the moonlight casting a soft glow on his silver hair. 

Cassandra shook her head quickly, a smile spreading across her face. "No," she said softly. "It doesn't matter at all."

As they continued their walk through the moonlit garden, Cassandra felt a warmth spread through her, grateful for the unexpected camaraderie and the genuine interest they had shown in her. The night seemed to wrap around them like a comforting blanket, making her feel, for the first time in a long while, truly at ease. Under the starlit sky, she had found kindred spirits in the most unexpected of places, and for the first time in a long while, she felt hope for what the future might bring.

[hyba]

OC Intro: Alexandra Bellerose

Sophisticated, elegant, and graceful, Alexandra Bellerose is a powerhouse both in her personal life and in her business. As the owner of a major fashion brand, she has her hands full with work. When her daughter is murdered at a party in their own home, however, Alexandra puts everything on hold.

As the Bellerose family investigates Elise's murder, Alexandra has to face the fact that perhaps she didn't know her daughter as well as she thought she did. Of course, there is the guilt - the feeling that perhaps if she had known her daughter better, if she had been there more, she would have a better idea of where to start looking. As it is, though, Elise, despite being well-loved and popular, remains an enigma to her mother.

Alexandra resolves to find her daughter's killer, and to see to it that justice is done.

But Alexandra was not made for the darkness; never had she considered that one day, she would have to face such a terrible loss. Every moment spent digging, waiting for answers, uncovering buried secrets - every single moment gnaws at her, eats away at her resolve.

Because, as it turns out, there are some graves better left undisturbed.

[Original artwork & excerpt below cut]

Alexandra doesn't have a POV in the book, but we see her mainly through the eyes of her daughter, who admires her greatly, but who also feels a bit distant from her.

Excerpt:

I had always been more like my father than my mother. While my mother, the famous Alexandra Bellerose, graced everyone with her brilliance and charmed them with a personality that shone brightly in the darkest of places, my father’s presence was quiet, stoic, and noble. If my mother was the striking butterfly imbued with colors vivid and intense, my father was the black panther. I had always believed, somehow, that Elise, being born a year before me, might have consumed all of the vivacity my mother had to offer. There was none left for me. A silly thought, undoubtedly, but one that plagued me nonetheless. I am the glasswing butterfly, drained of my mother’s radiant color.

Original artwork, minus filters:

I don't necessarily feel that this perfectly captures the Alexandra of my mind, but I think maybe it gets a little of the way towards doing that. I hope that as my own skills develop, I'll be able to create more accurate portraits of my characters! ^^

Here's a little bonus, though, because I quite like how this one turned out:

If Alexandra was a character in Neon Vape, this would be the OC Intro graphic for sure!

[endlessly-cursed]

hp women appreciation week, day two; favourite women that are not mine

agata della rovere; she's such an interesting and multi-layered and complex woman, I was besotted with her the moment I saw her @potionboy3

gaia alden; I know she remains a mystery but she's my emmie's descendant and i'm also in love with the concept of her and olympia (make them a couple challenge!!!) @cursed-herbalist

verna malinda; the first character of gryff that I met and I fell for. She's brave, tragic, heroic, and like me, one useless lesbian. I love her and she remains in my loml list @gaygryffindorgal

astraea mckenzie; she's beauty, she's grace, she's my baby and bestest girl of the founder's era. I fell in love with her and she remains a fav of this era ♥ @magicallymalted

ava campbell: reading book two of tpr made me fall for ava quickly: reckless, badass, with a strong sense of justice and one of the strongest characters of the saga, ava is a well-developed and written character and i can't wait to dive into her stuff @lifeofkaze

ophelia burke; she's such an interesting character, and the true embodiment of abba's 'money money money'. She's cunning, smart and knows how to play the game, and i can't wait to see the last part of symphony @the-al-chemist

brianna o'rourke; she's an underrated baby, someone i highly relate to and her character alone without her li is so interesting and fun to read! A comfort character of mine @unfortunate-arrow

virginia scott; another underrated b!tch, she's literally what i aspire to be someday, not to mention an instant crush and fav, she deserves to be in this list @slytherindisaster

adelia selwyn; a crush of mine before i came into the fandom (and later inspired me to join it!) Her beauty matches her intellect and she's one of the most all-time iconic women of the era. This legend is worthy to be here @thatravenpuffwitch

siobhan llewellyn; ofc shiv should be here!!! she was another of the inspos to join here and one of the first ocs i interacted, as well as her owners. She's badass, with a soft side, funny and witty, same goes for her owner 🤍 @kc-and-co

odette bellerose; yet another underrated baby, she's literally living my dream: live in marseille in a big ass mansion in late victorian england. she's such a complex and interesting character, she deserves to be here @kathrynalicemc

miriam cairncross; of our brokencross universe, miriam was the first lady i was introduced to and she was an instant fav!! She always shows that she's not just eli's wife and is interesting in her own right. She deserves to be here as well @cursebreakerfarrier

mathilde coventry; a recent one, she's such a badass as well! Poisoning her way through everything and ofc her special relationship with my bruna is one of the best girls out there @camillejeaneshphm

abbi bennett; ofc i had to put my wife here! She's one of the best characters, and alongside roxie, is a fav of mine. I'm forever thankful that you chose her to be ernest's wife 💜 @mjs-oc-corner

[leoswritingcorner]

New UF OC (also a oc revamp): Seraphina Fantaisie Bellerose

Fae. Comes from a very long line of wealthy royals of a seelie court. Around the late 1500’s, a part of Seraphina’s family decided to expand their rule and bloodline by mingling with human royalty. They moved through out various parts of Europe, flawlessly entering into the good graces and favors of different monarchs.

They keep their surname Bellerose.

Seraphina’s family ended up in France, where she’s born much later in 1760, both her parents faes, a duke and duchess at the time who were highly favored by the king.

Seraphina grew up in and around Versailles. She became a courtier, and soon/secretly a very high class courtesan within Versailles’s walls.

Had a lot of musketeer lovers. She cannot resist a man in uniform.

Won lots of favors not only by being her charming self, but using her fae ✨allure✨

5’3, red hair, green eyes, curvy body.

Seraphina is genuinely kind, friendly, and thoughtful. A very loyal friend, but also radiates Airhead/Bimbo energy. She can be very shallow, only took lovers who she found aesthetically pleasing.

Is Nass’s BFF, literally, cause they’re practically immortal. Very loyal and protective of Nass and all of Nass’s children

It’s impossible to not see one without the other.

Usually found lounging around, doing Rich French Lady Tingz, spilling tea with Nass.

When the revolution broke out, she fled with Nass’s family. Her parents were sadly guillotined.

Travels with Nass for the next few hundred years before moving to America in the earlier 1920’s. She’s over Europe and it’s Revolutions. There she gets swept up in the roaring 20’s. Becomes a burlesque dancer. Again, uses her charms and allure to get what she wants. A man who she had been briefly engaged to (a powerful gangster who met a violent end cause well) left her his speakeasy in Chicago. Seraphina works hard and eventually turns the place into a very lavish opera house called la sirène chantante.

While she is very sweet and friendly, Seraphina can have a deadly mean streak if need be. She has absolutely seen people who have wronged her or those she loves dealt with as she sees fit. Will either have someone handle it, but often will handle it herself

Very Dramatique as well.

Her opera house is open to all supernatural creatures, humans, and sometimes hunters if they sign a waiver. The opera house often has masque balls, galas, and other high class events. Lots of Versailles influence in the decorations and architects.

There may or may not be a super secret brothel. It’s a rumor. But shhh

She takes VERY good care of her workers and is VERY protective, think Dolly Parton’s Miss Mona

Very fashionable, wears everything Nass has designed.

Here’s her face

[dragcns-den]

Guess who made a new OC? Say hello to Amabella Bellerose!

Amabella Bellerose is an Original Character of mine, but her design was inspired by the show Wander Over Yonder (savewoy)

Name: Amabella Fleur Bellerose

Age: 16

Birthday: April 24th

Her Species

- They are an old specie that has gone by many different names throughout the years. The name currently being used is Somatmorph (body change)

- This is because of their ability to take the form of different creatures. These can be people or animals, but they can not take the form of inanimate objects. In order to take the shape of something else, the Somatmorph has to physically touch the life-form. Once they have taken their shape, they can stay that way for as long as they want to. Even when transformed into another creature, they retain some of their unique features such as colors.

- However, every Somatmorph has a single creature that they can change into at will. This creature is unique to the Somatmorph and reflects their personality. For example, someone who is quiet and shy might be able to turn into mouse without having to physically touch one.

- Somatmorphs are able to alter their body in one small way whenever they want to. Their arms morph to form hands at the end of them whenever they need to perform a task that requires the use of hands and fingers. Once it is completed, the hands disappear.

- They tend to be bright and colorful, although some of them like to dye themselves duller colors or wear bland clothing to counterbalance it.

- Some Somatmorphs have tails, but it is uncommon.

Her Old Home

- Her home planet is similar to France and is called Amour des Étoiles, which translates to Love of Stars

- She lived in the biggest city on the planet, where the days were busy and the nights were calm. Amour des Étoiles does not use lights during nighttime because the stars surrounding the planet shine brightly enough for the inhabitants to see through the dark.

- Once every year the stars sprinkle their stardust onto the planet. On this day known as The Festival of Wishes, families celebrate with their loved ones. It is common to cook a feast, sing songs, and play games. When the moon rises in the sky, everyone makes a single wish as stardust falls to the ground. It is said that one wish will come true. It is important to not tell anyone what you wished for, or the stars will not select you. Many people do not believe that the stars will actually grant someone’s wish. But it is tradition, so people participate anyway.

Her Family

- Bellerose is a noble family and viewed with the upmost respect in the galaxy she is from. They are descended from royalty and are the wealthiest family on their home planet.

- Because of this high status, Amabella was pressured by her parents to act perfectly. She was homeschooled and forced to learn how to be a proper lady. Her mother was constantly criticising everything she did. No matter how hard Amabella tried, she could never please her. Her father was cold and distant, barely even speaking to her at all. He only showed interest in her when he was bragging to his upperclass friends about the young lady he was raising. It was as if she was just something to be flaunted, instead of his daughter.

- Since she ran away from home, her parents have hired bounty hunters to bring her back. Amabella has had to evade them on several occasions, but refuses to let it dampen her spirits or cause her to become paranoid.

Her Personality

- She is incredibly upbeat and perky. Hardly anything seems to snap her out of her optimistic view of life. However, speaking about her family does tend to cause her to become gloomy. People either find her lively attitude endearing… or extremely annoying. Either way, chances are Amabella will find something wonderful to love about them!

- She can be pretty naive. It isn’t hard to trick her and most likely the same person would be able to trick her over and over again without her becoming even a little bit suspicious of them.

- A bit of a ditz, Amabella forgets things easily. She can forget to do tasks that she is given and sometimes even forgets what she wants to tell people if she doesn’t tell them quick enough. Eventually she remembers, but it usually doesn’t happen until hours later. Despite her forgetfulness, she is incredible with names and faces. If she has met you once, she will easily be able to recognize you again. She also tends to remember random tidbits of useless information.

- Curious to a fault, she will not hesitate to throw herself into a dangerous situation in the pursuit of seeing or experiencing something new. But she doesn’t do this knowingly. Amabella doesn’t even consider the danger before she acts. This tends to cause stress for the people around her.

- When it comes to romance, Amabella is a bit of a clueless mess. She does not realize when people think she is flirting. In reality, her constant touching and compliments is just her having no sense of personal space and always being able to find something good in a person. She has had several people claim that she is their girlfriend, without her knowing about it. All they had to do to make people believe it was go and talk to her because the way she shamelessly clung to them would make anyone think they were romantically involved.

5 Random Facts

1. Incredibly graceful, she is a talented dancer and skater. She adores dancing to instrumental music, her body flowing smoothly with the melody. Ballet and Ballroom dance classes were one of the few things she enjoyed when she lived on her home planet, along with occasional trips to the ice-skating rink.

2. She is a very touchy-feely person. Even if she has only recently met someone she is perfectly comfortable hugging them, running her hands through their hair, holding their hand or holding onto their arm. She isn’t uncomfortable with kissing her friend’s cheeks either. Basically… she doesn’t really understand personal space. If someone tells her that they do not like to be touched, she will respect their wishes. However, she might forget occasionally.

3. Amabella has a major sweet tooth and loves pastries. Her mother never allowed her to finish one and would make her eat only half on the rare occasions she would even allow her to touch one. So now that Amabella is on her own, she tends to indulge in desserts often.

4. Her extensive wardrobe is filled with colorful, frilly, and slightly revealing outfits. She changes her clothes and hairstyle often, enjoying experimenting with different looks. Although she does have a weakness for the color pink and curls. Her outfits tend to consist of either a short skirt and low-cut shirt, or a low-cut dress that ends around the middle of her thigh. Amabella is not aware that the way she dresses might be considered provocative by some people. She is too oblivious and confident to feel shy or ashamed about baring her skin.

5. She avoids talking about her family because she does not want anyone to try and take her back to them. Her parents are incredibly wealthy and the temptation of a reward might cause people to turn against her. Also, thinking about her life back on Amour des Étoiles causes her to become depressed. She had an incredibly negative life that she just wants to leave behind…

[jentucker]

Oh, hey, my OC for Polaris has a FACE. It’s not exactly what I had in mind, but pretty close. I made her a bit prettier than she’s supposed to be, but I used a combination of artbreeder and paint.net and I couldn’t quite fine-tune some details because I don’t have those skills yet. 

So here’s Grace Bellerose. 

And I swear, trying to get the right shade of blue I have in mind for her eyes was near impossible. Again, see above about me not having the skills but also not having the patience for fine-tuning. 

Anyway. Shoutout to @justafoxhound​ for inspiring me to put a face to Grace with her amazing character creations for her fic  (which is superb, btw, give it a read). 

[jentucker]

I haven’t been around much because I’ve been kind of busy. Mostly grinding at Red Dead Online, gotta get those dailies! But also doing actual productive things like job hunting and oh, hey look, another chapter for Polaris. 

Archive of Our Own

Fanfiction.net

(also, I’m trying to rewrite my summary because it needs to be better. I hate to be that person who sucks at writing summaries, but, well, I really am. Always have been. Help?)

[jentucker]

The Hurt/Comfort chapter of Polaris is up! Grace gets a little... stabby off-screen. 

Archive of Our Own

Fanfiction.net

[jentucker]

I posted a shiny new chapter of Polaris in which I pretend to know what I’m talking about. I also started posting it again on Fanfiction.net because I miss the fancy graphs. 

Chapter 12 - AO3

Chapter 12 - FF.net

[jentucker]

Polaris Chapter 33

Arthur confronts Grace and then robs a bank. Neither go well.

Fanfiction.net 

Archive of Our Own

Me after writing this and the next couple of chapters: