#situation for as long as she was! feelings are complicated but hello your daughter's pride and feelings shouldn't be messed with like that

[favroitecrime]

anyway thinking back to riley though. she was done incredibly dirty by the writers in a lot of ways. like i know we discussed at length the 'maya became riley' storyline (which.... another day) but we don't discuss how they belittled riley so, so much and never offered her a chance to grow in the eyes of those around her. her parents weren't even good parents to her lmao and a lot of their dismissive nature is brushed off for gags and giggles which is crazy. peak riley moments that come to mind were her in girl meets stem. in stem she's the brilliant riley who's top of the class right next to farkle and we can see why. she's brave, loud, proud, and refuses to be belittled and i needed more of that. anyway fuck you michael jacobs

[bonefall]

So what is Sparkpelt's relationship with Firestar going to be in BB rewrite since she isn't going to be Firestar but female? I'm assuming she's going to be completely different looking from cannon Sparkpelt too.

[ID: Better Bones AU's version of Sparkpelt. She is an auburn tigerclone with jagged stripes, a cream beard and mane, and raptor claws.]

BB!Sparkpelt is so different it'll make your head spin. GoodBYE Fireclone Sparkpelt, HELLO Tigerclone Sparkpelt

Also I decided that the KEY Tigerkin Family Trait is going to be raptor claws. A large index claw, and pointed talons on the back toe. They also tend to be large, tiger-themed, and have 'beards.' It's sometimes remarked that they bear a similarity to Thunderstar!

BIGGEST CHANGE, which I think is pretty well known by now, is that Sparkpelt is NOT Squirrelflight's child. Her mom was Jessy, from a brief relationship that ended in a brutal cat divorce. Squilf remains infertile, she cannot have children.

Instead, they are Mentor and Apprentice. Just as close as a parent and child.

Below the cut: Sparkpelt in,

Bramblestar's Thorns

Squirrelflight's Horror

BB!TBC and ASC setup

Bramblestar's Thorns: The AVoS-era replacement for the loss of Alderheart as a POV in that arc. Sparkpelt gets a POV alongside her brother covering her early life.

Her mother Jessy is a genius inventor. She joined during the SE, ThunderClan's Tempest, along with Fernsong and Stormcloud. Her name was briefly Sweetbright.

She had a massive fight with Brambleclaw shortly after having their children, which escalated and she wasn't willing to stay if he was going to treat her like that.

Alder was taken back to twolegplace. Bramblestar kept Sparkkit.

Spark loves her dad but...

He is an emotionally abusive person. Your relationship with a person like that is always unstable.

"He's not always like this." She wants him to be better, she blames herself for upsetting him, she loves him, he makes her feel like dirt, she doesn't want to be near him, she feels bad enforcing boundaries...

To give Bramblestar credit where it's due, however, he taught her very well about their family legacy. From Tigerstar all the way back to Oakstar, that they have a long line of pride and ambition.

Firestar, in these stories, was presented as someone who saved them from disgrace. By opposing Tigerstar and giving Brambleclaw power, he was a hero to them as well.

She's named after him, too. Firestar was Bramblestar's beloved mentor.

This pressure of legacy was something shared by her childhood best friend, Hollykit, child of Fallenleaf and Cinderheart.

Spark had her issues growing up, and resented Jessy massively for leaving her and taking her brother. When Alder came back because of his visions, she turned a lot of frustration onto him

Him coming back felt like she suddenly couldn't be so angry at Jessy. She had to be nice about the person who ripped her brother away, broke their family, and even turned Alder against her with how he defends her

It's not accurate or justified, but that's how this emotionally repressed teenager expresses complicated emotions.

In a moment of clarity, Bramblestar personally chose Squirrelflight as Sparkpaw's mentor. He knew that she would be the person his daughter needed, someone who would teach her to stand up for herself, and to do the right thing.

...But unfortunately most of the time Bramble does not have that level of insight. He rues this decision constantly, convinced that Squilf is intentionally turning his daughter against him.

Squirrelflight's Horror: The replacement for Squilf's Hope

This book is about Squirrelflight reconsidering her relationship with Bramble, when the Sister Situation happens. Ultimately it ends in Squilf going on trial in StarClan, less because of her 'transgressions' in life and more because of Fire Alone as an ideology being tested.

But this isn't about Squilf this is about Spark.

Similarly to canon, Hollylark suffers a horrible poisoning and passes away as their kittens are born prematurely.

Sparkpelt is shaken badly by this. They were childhood friends, they were expecting a litter, like canon she experiences postpartum depression.

Squilf wins her trial, but desperately decides she needs to get home because her apprentice can't lose a mate and a mentor at the same time.

I don't want to end this SE on the note that Sparkpelt is finally moving on from the death of Hollylark... I don't think she can "get over it" quickly the way canon implies.

In general this part of Spark's life is much more delicate. She needs more time, recovery is slower, there's a lot more pain here. But she is loved and supported through it.

BB!TBC and setup for ASC when it comes

By the time of TBC, she's finally recovering. Her relationship with her kittens has improved.

When the imposter happens, it threatens to destroy everything she had built.

She gets covered in scars from a dog attack, and is eventually exiled.

Finchpaw follows her, making a name for herself as a brave Firekin descendant who opposed a tyrant.

In this arc, a lot of Firekin act as a 'unit,' this family tends to think alike and work closely because of their shared legacy. Squilf, Spark, and Finch are in lockstep as major rebel figures.

Flamepaw is left out of this, because he chose not to follow them.

When Flame eventually rejects his name in ASC, a major contention he has is that "MOM ISN'T EVEN FIREKIN WHY DOES SHE CARE"

The answer is, that rejecting the Firekin side of himself is like killing the part of him that is Hollylark, and rejecting a family she feels accepted into and part of.

THAT SAID; I do not rewrite arcs until they are done. Details of ASC are sparse and only fragments. I need to know its conclusion before working backwards to make that conclusion stronger.

And that's BB!Sparkpelt! Very different from canon, but I love the gal.

[evening-starlight]

Daddy’s Best Friend

I’ve gotten really into this story so updates are coming in QUICK

All Work Master List

DBF Master List

5

Word Count: 1942

    "Armel?" Amaris asks, shock taking over her face as her ex stands in front of her, in New York with that precious smile that made her fall for him in the first place. "How.." She shakes her head to try and get her bearings. "How did you find me?"

    Armel chuckles, tilting his head to the side as he answers, "You're not as secretive as you think you are, Mon Amour. There are many Amaris Clarke, but only one you." Amaris blushes at the pet name he gave her in Paris the second day they knew each other.

    Their romance started fast, meeting in the cafe she frequented, and he worked at. He bought her a coffee when he left his shift, writing his number on the cup before setting it down and leaving without a word. They toured France together, Armel showing Amaris his birth town and beautiful places tourists don't frequent. He took her breath away from the very first day, but nobody could keep her attention as long as Tom could.

    Amaris says she broke up with Armel because she didn't want him to see the lifestyle America thinks she leads, but deep down, it was because he wasn't Tom. She won't admit it to herself yet.

    "Oh, come in, come in." Amaris gestures, opening the door wider for Armel and his one black suitcase. "Why.. why'd you come?" She asks after the door is closed behind the brunette.

    "Who could leave such a smile without a fight?" Armel asks in a thick French accent, laying a soft hand on her cheek with a faint smile on his face. "I did as you did. I got a study program at, uh," He thinks over the college name. "Ehn-yu?"

    "NYU?" Amaris corrects. He nods with a bright smile.

    "Oui." Armel steps closer to Amaris, hand still on her face. "You are a treasure, Mon Amour. I was depressed when you left and remembered, 'ah-hah,'" He acts out his thought process with a finger up in the air, something Amaris found endearing about him. "She adores romance. Hence," He gestures himself up and down, then to her. "New York."

    "Who the hell is at the door?" Danica yells, entering the foyer with a huff. Her tone changes quickly when she sees the handsome french man in the front. She smoothes out her wrinkled pajamas and tucks a stray hair behind her ear. "Oh, hello there." Danica walks towards them and offers a hand to Armel. "I'm Danica. And you are?"

    Armel takes Danica's hand and presses a soft kiss to her knuckles, causing the twenty-year-old to giggle like a schoolgirl.

    "Armel. I am Amaris's..."

    "Friend from Paris," Amaris interrupts Armel, not wanting to explain their complicated relationship just yet. "He flew in to surprise me." Danica eyes Armel up and down, a flirty look evident on her face. Amaris rolls her eyes, slightly annoyed her younger sister is trying to flirt with a boy she met first.

    Danica shifts her focus back to the eldest sibling. "Your omelet is getting cold. So if you want to lose, stay out here talking to this cute guy." Amaris sighs and slips her hand into Armel's.

    "Grab him a fork; I want him to taste the monstrosity you call food." Danica sticks her tongue out at her and skips off to the kitchen. "I'm so sorry, but you're about to meet my family." Armel shrugs, tightening his grip on Amaris's hand like if he lets go, she'll leave once again.

    "I assume. This is family house." Amaris giggles at his broken English. He wasn't fluent but knew more than enough to get by with her family. They start walking towards the kitchen, where Amaris can hear Juno and Danica arguing how only siblings can over which fork is better. "Is omelet the one I taught you?" Armel asks as they get closer to the kitchen.

    "Of course, Cherie," Armaris slips back into the habit of calling him pet names. They get to the kitchen, and all eyes fall on them. "Guys, this is Armel. He's a friend from Paris who came to surprise me. He's gotten into study abroad with NYU." William stands up, sizing up the boy who's holding his daughter's hand. He offers a hand to Armel, who shakes it without hesitation and a bright smile.

    "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Clarke. Amaris tells me much about you," Armel greets. William makes eye contact with Amaris, giving a slight nod. That was his seal of temporary approval. Armel made a good first impression on her dad, but the support can always be revoked.

    "Please, call me Will, son. Take a seat," Will offers, motioning to a seat next to Juno.

    "That's my dad's friend, Tom," Amaris starts to introduce her little family in order from right to left. "You already met the witch herself," She teases as she gestures to her sister.

    "Hey," Danica huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. Before she can retort, Amaris moves on.

    "Dad, and my youngest sibling, Juno." Juno gives a small wave, backing deeper into the chair behind them. They didn't like meeting new people when they know nothing about Juno and their situation. They'd much rather disappear. Although, if it was Amaris's friend, they should be alright.

    "Pleasure to meet you all," Armel smiles before taking his seat next to Juno. Tom looks the boy up and down. Of course, Armel was exactly Armais's type. Curly, tall, French. She always had a weakness for french accents; she's admitted as much herself. But why did she introduce her ex as a friend? Was Tom the only one who knew they were together in Paris?

    "Okay, try the next one," Danica shifts attention to the breakfast judging. When everyone took their first bite, their eyes roll back, and food-related moans leave them. "Oh, that's bullshit," Dancia fights, taking out a fork and trying a bite herself. She moans as well, followed by, "Fuck."

    "Armel, try the other one," Amaris suggests, handing him the plate. She obviously won, but she had to win fair and square. Armel takes a bite of Danica's omelet. It was tasty but not as delicious as Amaris's. "Alright, so who wins?" Amaris asks, already knowing the answer from the reactions she got.

    "Oh shut up, Mari. We all know your stupid omelet won." Danica pouts, including the jutted-out bottom lip. Everyone agrees the one on the red plate was superior. Amaris laughs with her hands in the air.

    "Those cooking lessons paid, did they not?" Armel asks, leaning on the counter with the damned smile that makes Amaris lose her breath every time. Danica gasps.

    "That's not fair! You had Paris cooking lessons," Danica complains. Amaris shrugs as she reaches for the orange juice she set out earlier. "I demand a recount with the new information." Amaris rolls her eyes as she brings the cup to her lips.

    "If my apartment is cooking lessons, Oui," Armel inputs, causing Amaris to choke on her sip. Danica looks between the two ex's, slowly putting two and two together.

    "Holy fuck, you two fucked didn't you?" Amaris starts to blush furiously, confirming Danica's suspicions. "Oh my God." Danica looks over Armel one more time. "I mean, I don't blame you, but ew," Danica continues her dramatic 'ews.'

    "Are you done now?" Amaris huffs, burning up from being under the spotlight. Danica holds up a waiting finger and throws out three more ew's for good measure. "You done?" Amaris asks again.

    "And finally, ewww." She pauses. "Now I'm finished." Danica smiles a pleased smile. She loves to torment her older sister, especially in front of the boys she likes. But, unbeknownst to Danica, she embarrassed her sister in front of two boys she likes.

    "You're the most annoying sister on the face of the planet," Amaris complains, starting the breakfast clean-up, picking up the empty plates that Juno and Dad finished off.

    "So you're saying I have to be more annoying than the annoying sisters in the center of the earth?" Danica quips, laughing at the murderous look Amaris shoots at her.

    "I literally hate you more than Cleo," Amaris mumbles as she moves around Danica towards Armel. "We're gonna be outside talking." She states quickly before grabbing his hand and dragging him down the hall and out the double french doors.

    "They do not know?" Armel asks once the door is closed behind them. Amaris shakes her head, leading Armel to the lounge chairs. "Why?"

    "I didn't know how to tell them I dated a boy they didn't know about for a year and left him in France." She shrugs, pulling her legs onto the chair so she could sit criss-cross. Armel nods, picking at his cuticles and avoiding her stare. "So, why'd you come looking for me?"

    Armel looks up at her, lips tight. He brushes a stray curl out of his face before confessing his love in French. Amaris stares back at him. They promised they wouldn't say those words unless they were truly meant, with the fact that she would be leaving in less than a year when they met. "I've searched a thousand lifetimes for a woman like you, Amaris. That's no thing to let go." Amaris feels guilty for feeling the joy she feels.

    Tom would never make a move on her; he has too much respect for William to take that chance. But it still feels like cheating to Amaris after he kissed her just the night before. Or maybe she felt guilty because she didn't feel guilty when she kissed Tom.

    Amaris repeats the confession in the same language Armel did, smiling when Armel jumps up and plants a passionate kiss on her lips. They kiss for a second before they hear someone clear their throat behind Armel.

    William stands there, hands across his chest looking strict, but really his heart was filling with pride and happiness for his daughter. From first impressions, this was a wonderful boy for his daughter. She deserved nothing but the best after her rough start in life without a mother figure helping her with the boy problems that came in her teen years.

    "Hi, Dad," Amaris draws out. Armel walks over to him, hands clasped in front of him in a begging pose.

    "Mr. Clarke, sir. I ask your blessing to date your wonderful daughter," Amaris covers her mouth with a finger to stop from laughing out loud at Armel's antics. Will looks back at his daughter with a raised eyebrow and smirk. He loved this kid instantly.

    "Only if you promise to treat her right," Will states in his best father voice he can muster at the pleading boy in front of her.

    "Of course, of course. Amaris is a goddess and deserves the world. I will give her as much as I can," Armel continues to gush. Will sets a hand on Armel's shoulder, smiling at the boy.

    "You have my blessing, Armel. I expect you at family dinner this Wednesday." Will says before walking back inside. Armel throws his hands up in the air like he won a championship boxing match and turns to Amaris, who continues to giggle at the scene that unfolded.

    Tom stands in the living room window, watching the blessing happen and feeling a pang of... jealousy? Why would she choose a kid when she could have a man like him? Tom shakes the thoughts out of his when he sees them kiss yet again. He should be happy that she found someone who made her giggle like that. So, why does he feel angry?

Taglist: @queenofallhobos​

[dreamer213]

Broken Machines: Lights the Dark

Chapter 3 Evening in Atlas Part 2

Penny was stunned, of all the things she thought he was going to say she never would have guessed it would be THAT. A party? Their mission was at a party? One that requires formal attire and an luxurious vehicle. Just how? Why? What reason could there possibly be for her to go with General Ironwood to a formal party? This just didn’t make any sense at all! Penny tried and tried to comprise some sort of answer but every time she does she just circles back to where she started. Why in Remnant was this happening to her!

Penny: Um I’m sorry General but could you please explain to me why we are going to a evening party.

Ironwood: In all fairness we aren’t going to a normal evening party. We are going to an Altas evening party at the largest estate in the region.

Penny: I see, that still doesn’t answer my question.

Ironwood: The reason we are going is to gather some info before we begin our formal investigation or in this case your investigation.

Penny: I’m sorry what?

Ironwood: I’m rearranging your schedule and assigning you to an undercover investigation.

Penny: A-and what exactly am I going to investigate?

Ironwood: A week or two ago you witnessed one of the supply truck carrying materials for “the project” get hijacked, correct?

Penny: Yes. I tried to go after them but I had to rescue the security detail they injured during their escape.

Ironwood: Well, there’s been several more incidents since and it’s put everything behind schedule and we can’t afford any delays. Not right now. So we been investigating and have some clear suspects but we still haven’t been able to apprehend them. Every time we get close they spring a trap or find an some sort escape route and get away. We’ve done everything we can to tighten up security but they’re always one step ahead. Is as though they have information on the shipping schedule, the security detail, the layouts of the facilities, and facilities security systems. I believe that there’s a spy who’s been feeding the thieves this information.

Penny: I understand that but what does that have to with me attending an Atlas evening party?

Ironwood: You see, we’ve already done a thorough swipe of all the military personnel involved with “the project” and every single one was cleared of all suspicion so the spy isn’t from our end. Which means it has to be someone from factories or shipping companies and due to the classified nature of most of this intell it has to someone in a very high position in one or both companies. The only ones with that type of authority in either would have to be an Alas elite. The listed of possible suspects is still too large to focus in on any one specific and a public investigation will just raise more suspicion and give the spy a chance to flee hence the need to do this incognito.

Penny: But why me? Out of the numerous soldiers you have at your disposal why did you pick me?

Ironwood: I would do it myself but given my status as both a general and a member of the council showing any interest of any kind towards someone in high society will just raise more questions. As for the soldiers I could send most would be so obvious either in appearance or behavioral that they could never maintain their cover. And anyone who could maintain it already has some sort of of connection with Atlas that would just further complicate things. So that leaves you, Penny Polendina, with your innocence appearance and skill set you’re the perfect person to go undercover without raising any alarms.

Penny: I understand what you’re saying Sir but there’s still a large flaw in this plan. While it’s true I appear the most non threatening there’s still the matter of my mechanical nature. I just cannot believe people wouldn’t be suspicious of an android with more firepower then several military grade tanks attending formal events.

Ironwood: Your right they would be very suspicious of you if they knew.

Penny: If? They don’t……..How? How is this possible? All of Vytal saw me get ripped to pieces! The tournament was live! It was viewed around the world! How could anyone not know?

Ironwood: Tell me Penny, has anyone asked you about the tournament since you’ve been Mantle?

Penny paused for a moment, looking back no one had said anything about the Vytal Festival for as long as she’d been in Mantle. In fact she had explained her capabilities to several people after they witnessed her heroics the first month she was stationed there. Even then many had a hard time believing it was true. Was this really not public knowledge? Was this really not as well known as she thought? Had her terrifying near death experience really gone unnoticed?

Penny: How? Please just tell me how?

Ironwood: While your tragedy was televised across the globe it occurred so close to the fall of Beacon that it was quickly forgotten amongst the chaos Beacon’s tragedy caused. That and after global communications were lost all footage of the tournament was lost to.

Penny: But there were still witnesses. People still watched it happen.

Ironwood: Not in Alas.

Penny: Huh!

Ironwood: Atlas has always been a sort of world of its own especially amongst the elites. To them if doesn’t effect their cash flow it isn’t worth talking about or remembering. Your destruction may have been a hit to the military but to the city of Atlas it was non existent.

Penny: So from the perspective of the people at this party I’ll just be-

Ironwood: A girl from Mantle with a military background. A perfectly nobody, that’s your cover.

Penny: I see.

Ironwood: As to why we’re going tonight, this event is a very special one. Every politician, business mogul, and wealthy family in Atlas will be in attendance so is the perfect opportunity to make your induction into high society. I was hoping to brief you on the case and get you some etiquette lessons before you go in but this chance was to good to waste. We’ll go over everything properly in the morning but for tonight all you need to do is introduce yourself and try and make some connections.

Penny: …Yes Sir.

Ironwood: Remember Penny this isn’t for the sake of a military project. It’s for the sake of Altas as a whole.

Penny: Yes Sir.

With that everything was out in the open, all they could do now was finish the ride in silence. After a while the limo arrives at flying ferry, the only way to get passenger filled cars from Mantle to Atlas safely, once the limo is loaded on they’re into the air and soon they are greeted by the beauty that is the Atlas skyline.

Welcome to the city in the sky

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The party’s going well, after the initial greeting and welcomes Jacques makes the announcement everyone’s been waiting for. In a long winded speech Jacques expressed how “sad” he was that his daughter had lost herself to the thralls of war to the point that he had to throw her out of the house for everyone’s safety and so now. He ends his “heartbroken” speech by announcing that his youngest child and only son Whitley was to be the new heir of the Schnee Dust Company. With that said he hands Whitley the microphone, prompting him to make his speech.

Whitley: Thank you Father, ladies and gentlemen I would first like to say I am so sorry about the circumstances that has brought us here tonight but never the less I’m grateful to all of you for gifting us with your presents. I never expected to be given this title especially not this way but I’m grateful to both my father and to all of you for believing in me capable of holding this new position. I promise I will do everything in my power to become the best heir I can possibly be. And one day I will take charge of our family business, continue our great and glorious legacy, and insure that it will carry on for many generations to come.

Whitley hands the mic back to Jacques whose now holding a glass of champagne. Jacques raises his glass, the guests follow. He points the glass towards his son and makes a toast.

Jacques: A toast to the new heir. May he grow to be strong man capable of doing what’s best for the Schnee Dust Empire and for the great city of Atlas! To Whitley!

“To Whitley” the crowd shouts back. Once everyone’s downed a bit of their drink Jacques and Whitley return to the ballroom floor and back into the awaiting crowd. Soon Whitley was mobbed by a sea of people all wanting to make conversation. Scores “ Congratulations” and “I’m sure you’ll be a wonderful heir!” and of course many “ It’s pity about your sister.”. Every word out of their mouths is like sugar drenched poison. Alluring on the surface but bite into it and the toxicity of their true intentions are strong enough to kill eight full grown men. This was not group happy guests but a flock of vultures looking to pick at the fresh meat that is a young elite’s pride.

Whitley: This is going to be a very VERY long night.

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As the limousine gets closer to their destination Penny grows anxious, she had handled many missions before but those were all Grimm related she’d never had to socialize outside of saying hello to Mantle citizens or issuing warns to known criminals. Her anxiety only grows worse as she spots their destination out the window. They’re heading towards a ginormous mansion, longer then most of the government building, it’s pearlescent, grand, and overall screamed “High Class”. Penny was feeling completely out of her depth in this situation and very unsure of how to handle it. She looks over to Ironwood and asks for a little guidance.

Penny: Sir, May I ask what exactly am I supposed to say to these “Altas elites”?

Ironwood: That easy. Just give them you’re name, that you’re here with me and you’re one my highest ranked soldiers. That should be enough to get them talking.

Penny: Alright, I’ll do my best.

The limo finally come to a stop in the manor driveway behind several other more expensive looking limousines. The driver opens the car door, Ironwood get out first he extends his right arm her to grab. She tries reaching for his hand but he corrects her and places it on his bicep instead. He lifts her out of her seat and onto the sidewalk. Once Penny’s out of the car she gets a full view of the manor, and it’s almost overwhelming with how regal it looks. A castle like structure with high towers, ornate windows, and beautiful woodwork, a true masterpiece of a building. They head inside and by the gods it’s as though they step into a fairytale! The marble floors, the gorgeous walls, there’s even statues and big chandeliers! Things only get more dazzling as they enter the ballroom, it’s just as amazing as the entrance and there’s a sea of well dressed people socializing inside. Once again Penny looks to Ironwood but before she can say anything someone rushes up to greet him and soon people start gathering around him!

“There’s the man we’ve been looking for! General Ironwood get over here this instant! “

One man shouts bringing even more attention to Ironwood as the now mob of people get closer and closer. Most look to be business men and wealthy middle women and they’re all thanking for saving them at the charity gala and asking to get him a drink. They’re almost surrounded when Ironwood finally speaks up.

Ironwood: Penny, Why don’t you go take a look around. I have some people I need to talk to.

Penny: But General-

Ironwood puts his hand up to ask the crowd for some space then gets down to Penny’s level and whispers to her.

Ironwood:(whisper) I can handle things here, you go and cover more ground.

Penny: Yes Sir!

Penny unlinks her arm from his and heads off while Ironwood starts chatting up the crowd. Penny looks around hoping to find someone to converse with but everyone seems to be engrossed in their own conversations. As she goes deep and deeper into the ballroom she picks up a really nice smell, not like the perfume or cologne of the people around but more like the smells of the food stands and restaurants in Mantle only nicer! Penny knows she shouldn’t get distracted but temptation is just too great and there was still time to figure out how to complete her mission so would it really be wrong to take one quick little break? Penny follows the smell to a line of tables and it’s glorious! It’s a buffet! Full of fresh seafood, a carving station, an assortment of vegetable dishes, and some many food she’s never even know existed! There’s even a fancy dessert station! Penny’s beside herself trying to figure out how she should to go about this.

Penny: It all looks so good I want to try everything! But I can’t just eat all I want my stomach has a capacity. And I know Dad must have a plate saved for me at home. So I’ll just get one plate and fill it with a little bit of everything that stands out to me so I don’t overeat. Yeah that should work.

Penny grabs a plate and goes down the buffet line. She picks up a small lobster tail and a couple shrimp, a small piece of wagyu beef, a bit of garden salad, some truffle pasta, and a tiny chocolate soufflé for dessert. Once she’s got her plate filled she can’t wait another second and takes a bite from the first thing she can stick her fork in. It was the lobster and it’s delicious. It’s so savory and sweet and buttery. It’s so soft it’s practically melting in her mouth. So good.~

She keeps eating for bit until she notices a shadow looming over her. She looks up from her plate to see a group of upper class women in beautiful dresses each in different colors. This is great Penny could finally start on her mission! She was about to greet them but a woman in a red dress spoke first.

Woman in red: Oh my look at that plate! It looks you’re really enjoy yourself. The food must absolutely delicious.

Penny: Yes, it is. Good evening my name is Penny Pole-

Woman in red: I mean it must be, why else would you be stuffing your face so eagerly.

Penny: What.

Woman in blue: Uh Young lady I think you might want to slow down a bit. Surely you wouldn’t want to fill out that dress of yours, though you do have plenty of room in the hip area. Maybe you should try hit the gym or look for a good surgeon.

Woman in yellow: Oh don’t forget about the color! I’d never be so bold to wear lime green to an evening party. And with those freckles and such pale skin Dear you look a little spotty glow stick.

Penny:(quietly) I thought it looked nice.

Woman in indigo: Now girls don’t be so cruel, she’s just a little girl isn’t she? Poor thing can’t be more then 12 with that silly hair and those fat cheeks. Come on where’s your mommy and daddy? Do you need help finding them?

That’s it! Penny couldn’t take anymore! This wasn’t the first time she had been insulted. Be it by drunks, criminals, or generally rude people Penny had been insulted, screamed, and even cursed at while on patrol. But none of that had ever made her feel like this! Nothing had ever made her feel like this! These women may have said things that were far less graphic than what Penny was use to hearing but the way they said was just so awful it made her feel so tiny and pathetic. She couldn’t listen to anymore and walked away as fast she can as they laugh behind her. She kept going until she found an uninhabited section of tables next to a balcony. She sits at the table closest to balcony and starts eating her food again. It’s gotten cold and don’t taste as good for some reason. What was she going to do? If this was how the elites treat what they believe to be a helpless teenage girl how could she possibly investigate and find the spy! What was she going to do?.

.

.

.

.

Whitley had been on his feet all night. His father had left to go rub elbows with some politicians in his cigar room leaving Whitley to do the lion’s share of hosting the party. He’s spent hours spitting out fake compliments, making small talk, and apologizing on behalf of his sister to the point he feels like a broken record. After finishing yet another pointless conversation Whitley excuse himself to get something. Once he’s gotten out of view of the guests he heads towards a secluded balcony in the quietest part of ballroom passing by a woman picking at her plate.

He steps on to the balcony, he takes a moment to take in the cool night air, he walks forward to the railing turns around and leans backwards on it looking towards the ballroom floor. This was the only way he could try to relax at events like these. Go to a quiet place a little far from the guests but still close enough that he could run back in if his father came looking for him. Ugh Father.

Whitley: I’ve been doing his job all night while he runs off to smoke with some famed narcissists. Though that is what they say about birds of the same feathers, still hosting an event to apologize for your child’s behavior then leaving the actual task of hosting up to your other child can’t possibly reflect well on you. But it’s not like I’m only doing his job. How many times have I apologize for Weiss tonight? How many excuses have I made for Mother while she’s off drinking? How times have I had to redirect a conversation when someone asks about what Winter’s been doing? I do all that and more for what? Why is this how I live? Why am I stuck constantly cleaning up after people who don’t seem to give a damn about me just to survive? I mean I keep hanging on trying to keep things calm until I obtain the power I need to finally put an end to this nightmare but honestly what am I even trying to save? A mother who’s spent the last decade a drunken mess, an older sister who seen hell but still throws tantrums like a child, an even older sister who acts like her precious perfect baby sister is her only family regardless of who else cared about her, and manor full of people who would only see me as a way to maintain their incomes! Gods Am I really that alone?

Whitley internally sighs, he throws his head up to the stars bathing in the heaven’s light. The stars were one of the only things that could ground him when he starts feeling this way. Looking up at them always made him feel like he was floating in heavens, far away from all his problems free and safe. He leans back further to get a better view, spacing out as his mind begin to calm. Until he moves back a little too much and loses his balance. He tries to catch himself but he ends up flailing and slips. Time seems to slow down as his about tip over into a two story drop he screams.

Whitley: AAAAHHHHH! Crap! This is bad! Father’s going to throw an absolute fit when he see the mess this makes.

He closes his eyes hoping it’ll be quick but before he goes into free fall he stops. He opens them and sees a freckled hand wrapped around his forearm.

Penny: Hang on, I’ve got you!

He looks up and makes eye contact with his savior. It’s a girl who’s face he’d never seen before. She no older then him, wearing a bright green dress with fiery red hair in soft ring like curls and big beautiful green eyes.

.

.

.

.

Penny was still pondering what to next when she heard a scream and commotion coming from balcony. Knowing a cry for help better then anyone Penny dashes towards the sound. She’ll almost too late when she gets out the door and she see half the person’s body is already over the railing but she manages to close the distance just in time to grab they’re arm. She yells to get they’re attention and let’s them know she’s got ahold on them, in this moment they made eye contact and she finally gets a real look at the person she just saved. It’s a teenage boy and he’s…just…beautiful. That’s the only way Penny could describe it. His skin was so pale if she hadn’t felt the heat coming off him she would’ve sworn he was made of porcelain, his hair was so white it looked like snow and it looked so soft and shiny it could’ve been mistaken for silk. And his eyes gods his eyes, they were this deep blue that somehow looked like the sky right before twilight, a endlessly deep sea, and bright like a brilliant shining jewel. Now Penny had seen plenty of handsome men before, she knew nature could make many gorgeous creatures but this, this was the first time anything had made her this awestruck. She couldn’t move she couldn’t think all she could do was take in the beauty of the young man before her.

Whitley: Ummm Excuse me miss? Could you please pull me up?

[brooklynfm]

            { aisha dee. twenty-six. cis woman. she / her} Did you see BROOKLYN MCCARTHY left their door cracked open again. You think they’d learn after living in 3A for TWO YEARS. Last time they did this you could hear LIABILITY by LORDE blasting in the hallway. If you passed by you might have even caught a glimpse of them  DOODLING IN THEIR FAVORITE SKETCHBOOK. The rest of the floor says they can be CLUMSY and MAGNANIMOUS . Seeing them in the halls always reminds me of THE BRIGHT SOUND OF JOYOUS LAUGHTER, STRAWBERRY SCENTED PERFUMES FILLING EVERY ROOM SHE WALKS INTO, and LATE NIGHT TEXTS LEFT ON READ. { raq / she/her / cst }

okay hello!! you’ll probably catch me on discord but you’re welcome to dm here too. quick introduction i’m raq and this intro is... a bit messy. i’m ironing out brooklyn a little more so if she’s totally different in a week -- pretend she isn’t lmao. i love love love to plot with you guys and get writing asap ( i miss writing SO much). sorry if this intro is a bit long like i said, still working out the kinks. alright, hit me up! 

full  name:  brooklyn  layla  mccarthy

gender: cis woman

pronouns: she / her 

nicknames:  lyn or/and brooks 

age: twenty - six

date of birth: march 18th

sign: Pisces  

place of birth:  new york, new york ( the bronx ) 

sexuality: bisexual

biography  /  (  tw; divorce mentions, I think that’s it !  )* 

Lydia Sheffield often describes the day she learned she was pregnant was the “final bullet” to an already dying relationship with her parents. At the ripe age of 16, Lydia had to confess to her ultra religious parents that she was pregnant with 17 year old Myles McCarthy’s child. The middle class and conservative  Sheffield family were absolutely furious. Her father, Jeremiah Sheffield and his wife, Esther Sheffield were so indignant that their own daughter would go against their purity beliefs they kicked her out. Naturally, it was the McCarthy family who took Lydia Sheffield into their own home. Lydia and Myles were madly in love, despite both of their parents' critiques of them being so young. The couple decided to simply get their GED’s and work on saving up for a place of their own. and, lucky for them, the McCarthy’s already owned a second house just a few blocks away. gotta love having the convenient landlords for  parents  They  rented it out to Myles and Lydia as an easy way to stay close to their  future grandchild.

Myles McCarthy always talks about how bitter cold it was the day his only daughter was born. a long, painful, thirteen hour labor led  to the birth of their pride and joy. 

There was nothing under the sun that Brooklyn didn’t try. A childhood filled with chasing the whim and  wonder of a forever curious child.  At age five she would’ve already tried and hated ballet. By six, it was piano. Seven, soccer. Yearly, changing hobbies and interests and never truly getting very good at any of them  ( she’d never stick to them long enough ).  Up until she was around eight when she dove into her grandmother’s old painting set, easel and all left behind in their old shed. It was like love at first brush, painting was the first outlet that Brooklyn had and never strayed away from. Suddenly, her days were filled with the billions of colors and canvases of scribbles resembling her mother’s favorite flower or the neighbor’s dog she loved so dearly. Growing up only a child to a hardworking, young waitress and a mechanic, Brooklyn spent a good amount of time in quiet solitude and vying for her parents' costly attention with her latest works of art.  Time is money thus their hectic work schedules didn’t exactly allot tons of bonding time with their daughter.  A lonesome childhood that only led such a glowing extrovert to really shine in school. Though her reasonable likability doesn’t exactly lead to popularity. Brook was hardly popular and didn’t really have a stable friend group most of the time. Not for lack of trying, however.  She was a clear social chameleon who tried to get along with anyone. Not quite fitting in but not really belonging either. A real people pleaser -- which almost always lends to teenhood of bad circumstances in a multitude of friendships and relationships.  

And her teen years only got progressively more complicated. Remember how her parents were so  “in love”? Well, the lack of time for their daughter bred a lack of time for each other as well.  Big surprise, her mother was a serial cheater. Her late night jobs at the diner were actually trips she’d take to go see some guy named Peter. Of course, having gone to the diner just to surprise his wife only to see she wasn’t even there, Myles always suspected she was cheating on him. Lydia got a bit reckless and brought the man home one day while Myles was out of town. Brooklyn walked in on them and their marriage was history. After this, her relationship with her mother weakened as her father grew even more distant -- willfully burying himself in his work rather than properly coping with his emotions despite gaining full custody of his daughter. The burned marriage and constant worry for money a big distraction in being heavily involved in her life. . 

Going away for college and making it on her own was meant to be her way out of her small town. Getting into NYU with her portfolio studying studio art, things were looking quite bright for Brooklyn even despite her fragile relationship with the only family she has back home. Though, she’d soon discover her talents aren’t getting her nearly as far as she hoped. So now, with a healthy bit of debt and a decent job at an art museum -- the life of a lost and very lonesome late twenty-something is in full swing. She spends a good chunk of her free time out at bars or painting in her room, wondering if this is really all her life will come to be. 

personality  /  ( musing tag here ! ) * 

Her independence is huge to her, likes being able to care for herself and others without  help. A real motivated go-getter type ( though as of the last few years, she is struggling to remain optimistic  ).  Brooklyn is booksmart. But,  still has plenty of maturing to do. Can be perceived as naïve in that regard due to her people pleasing and will to do... essentially anything to be liked. 

Just a sweet soul deep down and very loyal. Subsequently, tends to be the first to forgive anyone no matter how much they might’ve slighted her. Horrid at taking criticism ( she’s very sensitive) definitely the type to sugar coat the truth to save someone’s feelings. 

Impulsive to a fault, probably has a billion stories of the crazy she has gotten herself into. Clumsy meaning she tends to just stumble into and fumble through situations for better and ( the more likely option ) for worse. While loyal to a fault often, she’ll change her mind quickly loose interest in frivolous relationships.  Not very smooth with letting people down or saying no either.  

To sum up, I feel like she gives off really great positive vibes. Just cozy caring warm that is somewhat a mask to hide her constant indecisive impulsivities and craving for belonging. ( that got... emo -- ksdfjasd ) 

wanted connection  /  ( click here for some more ideas ! ) *

tbh i’m down for whatever you guys might need for your muses but off the top of my head... 

would love to see a best friend or two ! the first few people she grew close to during her time at floor3

college friends

work friends ( not just at the museum, could’ve met while she was in college at part-time job )

exes turned really good friends

really anything!

[metellastella]

Mao Mao Pride Week Prompts, Part 2

A continuation of the prompts put out by @maomaosmother Previous batch here: https://metellastella.tumblr.com/post/621726687992872960/hello-everyone-happy-pride-month-to-all-of-you

4. Who I am

Mao said, “You know how some people like B.C. marry the other sex and have children to ‘fit in’?”

“Yes.” Snugglemagne said. “It’s something that’s crossed my mind once or twice, to be honest.”

Mao started in surprise. “Really?”

“Yes, to continue the throne. Hard to imagine committing to someone you weren’t drawn to, but …” he shrugged. “Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad?”

Mao rubbed his chin. “I don’t think a lot of people would agree with you there. But. For my own part. A good number of Mao members choose celibacy, because of our offered teachings. Would that not simply be a form of celibacy, just on one side, not the other?”

The king thought about it. “Well, it does seem to make it more manageable, when put that way. I’ve been visited by groups of nuns traveling from their covenants, and they don’t seem to be worse off for it. But, obviously it’s easier for women than men.”

“There are friars, too,” Mao pointed out. “Wanderers. Tending to the poor. Stand-up characters. I felt lucky whenever I’d run into one. Camped out with a few of them in my time. Nice fireside chats.”

“Oh, yeah.” 

“Both of those genders we just talked about  . . . and we in the clan tend to think of all of it, more of as an option. Not a core part of who I am.”

“Hm.”

“How about yourself?”

“I’m with your battle partner on this one, Mao.” 

He nodded. “Fair enough.”

The cat chuckled. “It was kinda cute on nights when he’d pick up a partner and I wouldn’t, and he would get all anxious on my behalf, and, say, ask if they should go to a different floor and not the next room so I wouldn’t feel more ‘lonely.’ He just doesn’t get it’s not that big a deal. He never has.” he shrugged. “And, heh, I have more than enough training to block out distracting sounds from my mind, and I sleep really deeply. But, I appreciate his being concerned over me anyway.”

“I guess I might think of it a little less as a central tenet than he does. After all, I haven’t been actively courting anyone since you both got here, or a little before that, either.”

“So, nothing to do with me?” Mao quirked an eyebrow.

“Heh, unfortunately not. I’ve experienced ‘love at first sight’ before, but for your particular case, it crept up slower. Sometimes that’s just how it is.”

Mao opened a gloved hand. “Right! That’s kinda like the point I was going to make about marrying someone the spouse wasn’t drawn to. Think of the reverse! At least among us siblings, no matter whom we’re drawn to, or how strongly, we tend to seek the same sex a lot, anyway, because it’s just much less hassle and worry, you know? Somewhat because we have warrior duties that take precedent over having children and domestic life, somewhat because we’re wielders, when mixed-magic-and-non-magic opposite-sex pairings can be complicated. We do have, not only the magical blockers to consider, but we’d like to have more wielder children if we’re going to pair up and take that risk in the first place. My sisters would be … I guess a word for it might be … embarrassed? Or frustrated …? To go through an entire pregnancy and not ‘gift’ the world with a wielder. A new dragonslayer! It’s not just outside pressure, either! The bond between a wielder child and parent is just … unfortunately more satisfying than not.”

Mao paused, examining the non-magical animal’s face.

The lion carefully guarded his expression at that. It really didn’t sound like prejudice. He seemed apologetic enough. But it felt that way.

Of course, he could never understand it fully. 

If Mao was looked down on for being the weakest … what gauntlet must a non-magical child born into the clan go through??

Maybe it was sheer, pure benevolence on the womens’ part to do what they could to prevent that. 

But that in itself was kind of hard to think about. 

Mao didn’t get any hint as to his thoughts.

Another animal might have given into an angry or irritated expression, but the king’s diplomatic and political training paid off. 

Not finding anything amiss, Mao resumed. “Sometimes, we just want to let off steam. We seek the same sex. Sometimes, in the past, despite being drawn to both sexes, I’m not really all that attracted, but I want the option anyway. The ‘option’ concept goes both ways.” 

“I . . . guess I understand that, though I still have a hard time picturing being intimate with someone I wasn’t drawn to first. Despite my idle musings on the possibility.”

5. Obstacles

“What?” Mao’s sister asked. “Just because I’m up for fun, you think I’m any less controlled than you, little brother? Conscious decisions are just as fun. Get over yourself.”

His ears went all the way down. “I … I’m so sorry,” his green eyes got bigger than ever. “So sorry! I always thought you were so impulsive … How could I think so badly of my own kin…”

“Aww, it’s all right, Mao,” she backpedaled. “Oh my gosh, stop taking everything so seriously.”

But he looked genuinely grieved. “I don’t have any room to talk,” he looked at his own gloved hands. “Was it my Ego defense mechanisms kicking in? A blind spot? Or … I mean … the others don’t approve of your actions either. Was I just emulating them? They don’t care as much about my actions. Is it because I’m a man, and you’re a woman? Is it prejudice?”

“Really Mao, stop stressing over it. The elders have their penalties in place for both men and women! The social aspect of it … it is what it is. All people have got their personalized hurdles in life. Like the athletes! Tiring, sure. But. Everybody’s just gotta buck up and jump over them.”

“You think maybe that’s a reference to real bucks?” the badger wondered. “Man, imagine catching an antler to the chest.” His voice faded, losing its joy. Did the lion spot him trembling? “Think of facing an even more massive caribou or wildebeast! All antlers, all business. All genders. I mean even a bare-headed female moose with her mountain of muscles is nothing to sneeze at. I do feel sorry for any one of them who might consider themselves male, though. Antlers are hard to fake. All those dudes and dudettes are WAY scarier than predators. Preds like to make out like they’re hot stuff! Psh!” the animal shook his head. “Many bovine species outweigh them several times over … ” 

“Didn’t stop me,” the black cat said confidently.

“Yeah, yeah,” the badger waved his paws dismissively at the magically strengthened animal. 

“I guess in that case the phrase ‘buck up’ might be slightly sexist,” she hummed thoughtfully. “Deer can definitely jump hurdles, though. Way higher than bears could. Like horse jumping! I wonder if their sports earn more money because the audiences like them better? It’s more graceful, they have more natural ability? Higher stakes, too. Their legs are very slender even though they’re strong … it’s very easy, with their massive weight, to totally shatter their bones if they land wrong. Even just racing, not jumping. The same isn’t true, for, say, greyhounds. Their welfare isn’t as endangered. Enough money flows that there are always magic salves on hand, but bone still takes pretty long to heal after the initial injury. But, because they’re so graceful and skilled, they’re drawn by the money rewards. Bears, who usually do it more for status and reputation, are trundling, bumbling, and clumsy by comparison. Even though they’re half-predators. How did they ever manage to make any kills in the old days? I guess a diet of mostly fish didn’t favor their developing grace and speed, as with canines and felines.”

The badger crossed his arms. “With the other type of ‘hurdles.’ I guess even though I admire you in a lot of ways, I don’t envy you outright being a woman. I can lie about attractions and pretend that I’m never drawn to men, if the situation demands it. There is no ‘closet’ for presenting as a woman. That’s tough, though you’re a wielder, so that offsets it a lot.”

“It’s not like being an average woman. Not nearly! Even if I didn’t have powers though. Being drawn to men is a whole lot harder than my stuff, too,” she disagreed.

Snugglemagne thought it was sweet how they seemed to be mildly arguing over whom to support more.

6. LGBT+ Safety

“There was the phenomenon of ‘male daughters,’ in the ancient world,” the lion said. “They were as perfectly ordinary legal designations as a birth certificate nowadays.”

“Oh?” Mai perked his ears, interested.

“Yes, I’ll give you some material on it. They lived like men did, and inherited wealth like they did. They were treated as men in pretty much every way. No having to conceal for safety concerns, like the mess in some places in the modern world. It was just obvious, and pedestrian, to that culture and those individuals. They weren’t harassed because they looked different, nor was a body seen as gender role ‘destiny.’ The approaches and conceptual framework to this issue have varied so much from place to place, and time to time.” “Can’t wait to read about it.”  

The sister made a face. “Oh yeah, that’s Mao, always holed up with his scrolls. I’m more of a party girl.”

“Same,” the badger said.

“I told him …” Mao sighed. “I told him that you all seek the same sex often too. But it’s different for guys.”

“Why?” the lion asked. 

“Remember what I said about the ‘lower’ position,” the badger reminded him flatly. “Actually, among most adventurer circles, at least, it’s totally OK for a pair of guys to get jiggy with each other, as long as neither does that. It’s called a warrior bond.” 

“The warrior bond was something B.C. and I considered,” Mao said quietly. “Out on the road, you never knew whose nose you’d run into. Subbing is not something you can conceal. With animals who aren’t nose-blind, there is no ‘closet.’ We’ve been to places where birds could do things on the sly. But that’s a rarity. Everywhere else, there are predators, or heavyweights, or wielders who’ll take a piece out of your hide for it. Of course I’d have zero problems defending us if necessary. A random group of anti-heroes or bandits just nosing around for trouble in general didn’t have any chance against me, either. But. Just not worth the hassle. Not to mention I’d want to break the nose on whoever it was. All it would take is one good pop.” He made a lighting-swift motion-retraction with his fist. 

The smiles on both the badger and the bigger cat faltered. They looked at each other in concern.

Mao either pretended not to notice, went on because he wasn’t about to soften his feelings on the matter, or was so absorbed in his own reflection that he really didn’t see them. “And I’d enjoy it too. I always did.” He glanced up at them, expression unreadable. “I won’t apologize for thinking it. In fact, I still do. Being a wielder, though, fanning those thoughts is not a good idea. I had to learn that through trial and error.”

“That’s not healthy for anyone,” the badger shook his head, “wielder or not. You’ve managed to avoid growing more of a … like … you said Blue mentioned … a ‘martyr complex’ over it? Right?”

Mao sighed in aggravation. 

“Yeah. I was in the throes of that before. Anyway. For other normal or lesser powered people, the warrior bond provides safety.” Next:  7. Marriage 8. Self-Acceptance   V Click below V https://metellastella.tumblr.com/post/622003595371544576/mao-mao-pride-week-prompts-part-3

First chapter of the fic here: https://metellastella.tumblr.com/post/617045879413719040/piercing-the-swordsman-chapter-1

[mitsue-chan]

Path to Isolation: A new beginning

EPISODE 01

⬖  __________ ⬗

"𝐀 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧? 𝐍𝐨, 𝐧𝐨. 𝐒𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭."

⬖  __________ ⬗

[Your name] [Last name]

You saw your childhood life flash by as a blur as you stared at your mother's peaceful face, resting eternally inside the glass coffin. You wore an all black dress that landed up to your knees, and you could only frown in distaste.

The guests that lingered around the funeral were quite surprised that you.. Your mother's only daughter, did not shed a single tear about her apparent death.

Your father stared ahead, though you could see the grief and guilt apparent in his eyes. It's been two months after that and you were only a young child when your father left you with a man named Dire Crowley. You were pretty sure he finally snapped.

It was a complicated time, and you could only watch with a blank look as your father pleaded, no- begged for his dear friend, his colleague to take care of you in his place.  To your surprise, the man with the crow like mask agreed to nurture you. So you watched as your father handle your belongings, give it to Crowley and left without ever looking back as he got inside the warp pad.

It was one of those moments when you had understood a person like no other. Humans and fairies alike were so, so fragile.

Your father was a fae, a cowardly fae. Yet your mother was human, a human so deeply in love with your father to the point that she had married him and had you. They were so deeply in love, but your mother had passed away, dying feverishly during labor when she was to give birth to your dear little sister.

Neither one of them had survived.

And so, you were left with your father for a few months, watching him cry time to time, watching him sulk and beg for his wife to come back. But you knew that he knew that sooner or later she was going to die either way. A fae had to endure a burden if he was to marry a human. Loneliness. Once he had married your mother, he knew the consequences in which he was to take.

Humans don't live as long as faes.

Taking part of being half fae, you were granted temporary immortality. You were to live longer than a human, but not as long as a fairy. You were beautiful, and elegant like no human babes, who stumbled and babbled like a newborn child.

As your father was a raven fae, you had managed to earn yourself a pair of ravenous black wings, strong and limber. Yet you didn't know how to soar yet. You didn't even know what to do with them. You saw them as something that could get in the way.

You were quiet. You were never one to talk. You remembered when you used to be happy, a gleefully stupid child that believed that the world was perfect as it is. No, you were born into a villainous world. You weren't supposed to get a happy ending. It was for the princes and princess that lived in the brighter side of the world. You're a villain in truth. You lost your happy ending when your mother took it away from you.

She was a selfish woman, and you didn't blame her for it. Never mother.

So when your new father, Dire Crowley introduced you to dark, gloomy academy as your new home, you were forced to follow new expectations. It wasn't something you could roam freely amongst the halls like you used to in your abode, you were to follow a set of rules, rules where you have to endure until you were old enough to work at the academy itself.

It wasn't bad, was your first thought.

You managed to feed off from the cafeteria, with food so exquisite to the student's eye and taste. Sleep in a dorm called Ramshackle, a dorm abandoned years ago due to the ruckus a trio of ghosts caused daily that they had to move out. The inhabitants welcomed you with transparent arms, seeing you were too young to pull a prank on. Since you were the one to cater after your father when he was in his mood, you eventually learned to clean. Crowley was surprised for sure, but pleased with your talents.

"I never expected for a seven year old to clean. You had exceeded my expectations, little raven." That's what he called you. A raven. Despite their loud nature, the birds of prey could be as quiet, and you had chose that side. But never had you felt that warm blossom at the peak of your chest, blooming at your newfound pride.

"Thank you, Mr. Crowley." You say to him, with a gentle smile. That smile lasted quite a bit.

He shook his head in response. "It would be fine to call me your father now."

Perhaps it was better to call him your father. Better than your last one, you had molded into a perfect little doll for Crowley, ready for the compliments that you had yearned for. Your life was too bland, too boring. Yet maybe, just maybe, your new home would spark some new feeling into you.

A few days in and you were already settled in your new home. It was much, much better than your old one indeed. You found yourself wandering the halls of the academy and waltzing into the library to read the books settled into their little nooks. Watching through the cracks of the doors of the classrooms as the students learned (but Crowley has seen you curious, and forbid you to distract the students).

You were currently writing down the basic ingredients to a certain potion during your lesson with Crowley. Since you had a little free time to yourself, you thought that you might as well learn. Rolling the pen against the pad of your fingers, you gingerly wrote down the next component to the substance.

"Are you getting all of this, [Your name]?" Crowley looked up from the book that he was scanning about, ready to recite the next phase of the potion. You let out a hum, giving the man a side glance before continuing your writing. "Almost, father." Your back was pressed awkwardly against the chair as you tried to sit upright, but your extra limbs were hard to settle.

Ruffling your feathers just slightly, you curved the last letter with the ink of you pen before nodding. "Please continue." The lesson continued on, and you were indulged within the primary components of your learning, taking in every last detail as your father announced the most important things from his books. Learning was something you'd like to take into hobby.

Your new father.. Crowley, had thought you were a little bit weird. You weren't like a natural seven year old like the ones he has seen. Normal seven year olds played, and laughed and were spoiled. You- on the other hand.. You were serious, elegant and yearned for love and compliments every single day. It was very hard to please you, with a few exceptions of head pats and soothing words that Crowley said very seldom.

But then again, Twisted Wonderland wasn't normal. Though Crowley was joyous when you had received your unique magic. Healing. Your eyes sparkled, a small smile against your lips, and you practically shoved your pricked finger as high as you can to manifest it to his height. It was when you were one day walking amongst the dark gardens in the courtyard, admiring the bright red colors of the roses that settled there.

You had touched the petals gently, feeling the texture against the pads of your finger and you admired how easily the red coloring got into your hands. Perhaps they weren't all red. With a buzzing curiosity, you held your finger up to your face, tilting your head as you watched the red substance ooze and dripped downwards. It was paint.

In the amidst of the red palate of the rose, you noticed the rusted white that gleamed true behind its façade. 

So it was white all along. You never went out much, and you realized that there was so much to see. Curiosity got the better of you as you turned your focus towards the prickly thorns of the vines of the rose bush. It lured you, lulling you to touch the sharp thorn. Then as soon as you pressed your finger against the prick, you quickly withdrew your hand in surprise. 

Your wings outstretched hurriedly in panic as you now stared at your blood. It cascaded down your finger just as the paint did and dripped onto the floors of the garden. You winced at the stinging pain of the aftermath of your mistake.  That was.. that was a refreshing feeling. Your eyes wide, shining. And you smiled.

It was a new experience indeed. 

The second you turned to stare at your wounded finger once again, you noticed a peculiar deed. It was healed. No trace of a small hole that had pricked the flesh of your skin. No blood that pooled out of the wound. Blinking twice, you tilted your head before realization hit you hard.

You ran back inside the academy, ready to tell Crowley of the new sensation as you await just outside of his office. You heard muffled voices and decided to wait patiently, an excited look plastered amongst your face. After a few moments, two men exited the room, each with a different markings of cards next to their right eye, they looked formal and barely glanced your way.

A soft chirp rumbled from your lips, before you cautiously turned away to peer inside Crowley's office, looking around to see if there was any stranglers left. A letter was unfolded against your father's fingers as he read the writings written on it.

"Father..?" You questioned, knocking lightly on the mahogany door. Crowley looked up from the letter and smiled wildly at your appearance. "Hello, [Your name]." He greeted you, "Is there anything you need, my dear?" You stumbled towards him, feet padding against the carpeted floors. "I- I think I got my unique magic!" 

You showed him your appendage and he looked at it confused. "Indeed..? What are you talking about, child?" You deadpanned before you explained the situation to your father. It was then his face morphed into genuine surprise. "Ah-! I see, it seems that your unique magic is healing. It'll be a useful technique to use when your comrades are in danger. Though it might be your fae side that had done this, but you might have healing as your unique magic.."

"Ah. Very well then! Since I am as gracious as the Seven Wonders themselves- I will find myself a professional medic to teach you the ways of the healing department." You nodded in return, eyes wide at the news. "Really father?" before turning your attention towards the letter that draped against an open book. "Who were those men?" It was rude to ask questions that weren't your business, but you couldn't help it.

Crowley sighed as he picked up the letter, feeling the parchment against his fingers. His golden eyes from his mask crinkled to show in a way that he was agitated. Now that you've thought about it.. You've never since his face before. His real face.

"Those were the imperial soldiers. The Queen of Heart's birthday is coming up. But I don't know what to give her." Crowley pondered, before turning to his desk. "Do you have any suggestions, little raven?"

You shook your head and hummed. "No.. But maybe you shouldn't go if you don't want to father." 

Crowley snapped his head towards you abruptly, his eyes wide before he shook his head. "What a horrendous idea! It'll be off with my head if I weren't to come, child. This invitation is mandatory, and we have no choice but to go." You gave him a look before bowing. "I suppose so, I've heard about the consequences. I'm sorry for asking. It was a ridiculous idea anyway.."

"Right." Crowley nodded towards you. "It's best if you were on your way. Remember to return in time for your classes [Your name], don't be late like last time." Your father said threatheningly, but you knew there wasn't really any malice in his voice.

If you had the audacity to roll your eyes, you would have done so as you left Crowley's office. But you didn't. You were supposed to be polite and proper. To get what you want, to get the love and affection you needed.. You needed to please. Please and entertain.

You spent most of your time lazing around Ramshackle dorm, ignoring the dust that lingered around the rooms. You figured it was best to leave the dust since it was going to come back day to day, anyways. So only did you fully clean your bedroom, that was the decent looking in the whole building.

Carefully sliding a book out of a nook, you carelessly rippled through the pages and read, laying on your belly to fully stretch out your wings for a better position. A content sigh escaped your lips as you read word by word, ocassionally looking at the clock that one of the professors has given you.

It was when the clock turned six o'clock and you were sure that the students were more than done. Closing the book with your bookmark in place, you glided towards your desk and grasped your own books. Scrolls were grabbed and you stuffed it all in a bag. All of the parchment were just basic things that you needed to learn for your age.

A little hum of a tune escaped your throat, it was a familiar one.. Your mother used to sing the lullaby to you as she cradled you amongst her frail, soft arms. And for a second.. You could feel yourself feel a bit disheartened, and your chest hurt at the thought of your mother.

She took my happiness away with her. You thought shamelessly as you stood tall. It's all up to me to restore it.

⬖  __________ ⬗

"Everyday all I ever wanted to do was stay by your side."

⬖  __________ ⬗

The day of the Queen's party came. 

Your father came by to drop off your dress that you would be wearing during the celebration, took one look around your room and left you be. It was a lively, purple dress that reached your knees. With silver finishes that swirled towards your waist to your skirt. You wore a hooded cloak that reached your wings to shield it away from any view.

You.. You didn't know how to do your hair so you managed to do a simple bun. You didn't want to be too extravagant to be noticeable, but just enough for Crowley to distinguish who you are just by recognizing your cloak (if you were to get lost).

You fumbled onto your dress as you made your way to the main building of the academy, avoiding all the passing stares of any onlookers that strayed from their classes. You could feel your fingers shaking in unease. You've never been out beyond the academy before. Crowley was very busy.

"You look magnificent, dear [Your name]!" Crowley exclaimed as he took in your sight. You shifted nervously and gave out a smile. "Thank you. I hope I don't look too fancy.." You softly said, avoiding your father's look. You turned your head to make sure your cloak covered your Raven wings fully.

"Are you ready to go?" You nodded in confirmation and Crowley led you towards the magic mirror that was blank for a moment before its face fully showed up from the glass. It bewildered you on how they managed to create a inanimate object such as it to come to life. Perhaps it was made by magic, crafted with special ingredients.

"I'll introduce you to the Queen, little raven, I'm a good friend of hers. And there are plenty of kids for you to make friends with." 

"I don't need friends when I have you." You told him, turning your attention away from the glistening glass panes. "You'll need them as you grow, for I am gracious enough to let you come!" You then wondered if there were going to be any faes in the party.

"Why do you keep saying gracious?" You questioned the older man, sweatdropping. He turned to look at you with squinted silhouette for eyes. "It is a magnificent catchphrase! And it defines my personality." You were about to make a snarky comment before you stopped yourself. "Okay."

"Oh Dark Mirror! Take us to the Queen's Castle Gates!" Crowley crowed, raising his arms with his palms outstretched for a dramatic effect. The mirror was silent before it's glass swirled into the figment of the colorful gateway to the Queen's abode.

Then they were suddenly teleported just outside the gates. The soldiers and the line of people didn't seem to care and moved on their spot on the line or were either giving out instructions. Crowley handed you a small box presented in white wrapper and a red bow, you were the one who was going to give the present to the Queen herself.

You could feel your wings twitch nervously.

As the two of you stood in line, you couldn't help but admire the variations of presents and creatures alike. Though there were more humans than the creatures. You could swear by your magic that you could sense a few faes here and there.

One present was about the size of your six year old self. You wondered what was inside. Some people spoke riddlish and spoke rather quickly more than you can comprehend. Your spot moved and you came closer to the gates. There were many rose bushes apparent, and gold linen that made the golden gates look fresh.

The guards seem familiar, you saw. But it was those soldiers who visited Night Raven College on deliver the invitation. Oh. 

"Invitation?" One of the guards drawled out in boredom as it was your turn. You held onto Crowley as he passed the letter towards the guard's outstretched hand. Once you entered the courtyard, you couldn't help but marvel at buffet of sweets line up and ready to dine.

There was some sort of game that involved hammers.. Upside down? They pushed the ball towards one of the iron hedges. It was peculiar. There she was, the Queen herself perched on her outside throne musing over guests and opening presents. There was a kid close to the Queen's tent, and a woman who looked related to him was talking, but he held a monotone haze.

"Crowley! Good heavens- it's been a long time hasn't it?" A man approached your father and laughed. Crowley greeted the said man and indulged themselves into a conversation. You stopped holding onto his feather like tailcoat and looked around.

Oh!

You noticed a tall pink animal that stood within it's flock. Approaching it, you noticed how it was taller than you. "They're flamingos!" A voice said from behind you. You quickly turned around to see the boy from earlier. The boy near the Queen's tent! Instead of his expressionless façade, he had a hopeful look in his face.

The little boy had silver gray eyes and reddish brown hair that was cut towards his chin and v-shaped bangs. He wore his formal attire that looked way too expensive. And didn't look like his taste.

"They're really pretty." You commented, staring at the flamingos with interest. "Would you like to hold it?" The prince asked with a smile. He turned towards the bird and coaxed it towards him. "I'm Riddle. Who are you?" You paused for a moment, debating whether or not you should reveal your last name.

"[Your name]." You introduced yourself.

"That's a pretty name." Riddle said, his smile widening.

A first new friend in this place! Perhaps making mutual relationships was something she can consider when she was older. "Here you go. You can hold it now." You placed a hand against it's feathers. It was silky and soft. "Is it a girl?" You questioned, mesmerized with the creature. It gave out a noise of content.

"I um- I don't know." The shorter boy said sheepishly, a blush forming on the apple of his cheeks in embarrassment. "Oh." You giggled, patting the neck of the flamingo once again. "Did you just get here?" You nodded in return. "Yeah, we won't stay long I think." 

His smile replaced with a disappointed frown. "Do you like the party?" What's with all the questions? You hummed before letting go of the flamingo. "I don't know yet. It looks really good though.." The music, the decorations, the animals! It was very much a delightful party fit for the Queen's liking. You wouldn't dare say that it wasn't fulfilling.

"Oh! Do you want a tart? It's especially made for Birthday Parties! It's just like from the rules." Rules? You tilted your head in question. "I didn't know they had rules here." It was true. Then again you recently just came here, so you were yet to understand their traditions. Maybe when you get back home, you'll do a little bit of research regarding the other countries of Twisted Wonderland.

"Are you a foreigner?" Riddle questioned, "If you aren't, it's a violation to not know of the rules, you know." You nodded, but you were still curious of the rules. "Is it the Queen who made the rules?"

"Y-yeah.. The Queen made them." Riddle said. He looked sad, lonely even. You furrowed your eyebrows. You were going to leave due to his questions but you stayed. A smile crept it's way towards your face. "That's cool, it's good to have some sort of authorization."

"Riddle?" He perked up as he heard his name. His silver eyes trailed up to your figure, seeing now that you were kind of taller. You reached a hand towards him with a shy smile, your other holding your gift to the Queen.

"Would you like to become friends?"

________________________________________________________________

T-twisted wonderland?! Yes lol, I've been obsessed with it recently. Omg Riddle baby 😭 He just needs love. This will be a slow progress! Probably expect slow updates.

[plus-size-reader]

Hell Fire

Tyson x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2916 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Reader is the daughter of Hades who is an outsider to the other campers until Tyson shows up and decides to become her friend. 

———————————————————————————————————

You shouldn’t have even been allowed out of the depths of Tartarus.

However, seeing as you were half mortal and had never met your father, you resided strictly in the confines of Camp Half Blood, with all the other demigods.

Not that being a demigod didn’t seem to make you any more popular with the others. No matter what you did, you always felt like an outsider.

It just didn’t seem like you belonged there, not that you belonged anywhere else either.

For starters, your father was one of the big three, and as if that wasn’t bad enough, he was the literal God of the underworld. It was far from a winning track record but you knew that even if Hades hadn’t been the torturer of all eternally damned souls, you probably wouldn’t have been the queen bee.

That sort of thing just wasn’t in your nature.

You had always been soft spoken and though you’d been at the camp longer than any other, few knew much about you. You had already been here when most of them arrived, something that you were sure only added to your mystery.

You had never done a thing in the world to anyone but they didn’t care. You were different, even by their ungodly standards and they didn’t like you because of that. You had been told that your eyes had this fire beneath that could draw in anyone’s attention, regardless of their desire. Something that scared them, you assumed.

The fact that your appearance was sort of intimidating didn’t do much to help either. You carried your strong frame with this ease and power that could rival Athena’s own, with a calm rage, bubbling just beneath the surface.

For all these reasons and a million more, you never assumed one of them would make a conscious choice to join you at lunch.

Until Tyson.

Tyson came into your life on his first day at camp.

He didn’t know anyone aside from his brother, who didn’t seem all that excited to see him, and no one was all too welcoming at all.

You knew how intimidating it could be, coming in with all the lunch tables filled to the brim with different cliques, except yours.

No one wanted to risk being seen with the daughter of Hades so you had a table all to yourself. Maybe that was why Tyson had picked you, because one person was a whole lot easier than forty when it came to greetings.

“Hello”

His voice startled you, you head snapping up at his tone.

Normally, you didn’t have to worry about being interrupted while eating, so you were more shocked than anything else at his appearance there.

“Hi” you muttered, waiting for him to elaborate on his existence there. It wasn’t exactly fair, as this stranger didn’t owe you anything but it would be nice to know more about him.

Obviously, there had to be something wrong with him if he was here.

“My name’s Tyson, can I sit with you?” He asked after a brief stint of silence, gesturing all around to the empty table around you. You couldn't help but glance around, searching for whoever had put him up to this but found nothing.

This was just Tyson trying to make one friend on his first day.

He’d picked a hell of a place to start.

“I guess, go ahead” you decided, taking his preoccupation as a chance to look him over while he got situated.

He was tall, with a mop of sandy blonde hair falling into view of a single blue eye in the middle of his forehead. It was hardly what you’d been expecting when you woke up today but all things considered, you didn’t care.

You’d all heard stories of how vicious and aggressive cyclops could be but there wasn’t a single doubt in your mind that you could take him down if you had to.

It didn’t hurt that he’d chosen to sit as close to you as possible, even given all the space available to him. If he wanted to do you any harm, you were sure that he would have waited until you were alone, not here in front of everyone.

What you were more concerned about was what he’d expect from you now that he was here.

Idle conversation wasn’t your strong suit and you were really hoping he would stay quiet but something told you that wasn’t going to happen. Tyson just gave off the vibe of someone who wanted to know the life story of everyone he met.

...And you couldn’t have been more right about that.

“So, who are your parents?” He wondered, not even giving you a second to adjust to his company.

When you turned to look at him, you found that he had this curious look on his face, something that you were sure you could wipe off with a single word. No one ever stuck around once they found out the truth and he’d be no different.

He’d be out of here before too long, assuming he managed to stick around at all.

“Hades” you allowed, the confident pride that most of the demigods associated with their parents missing from your tone. You wanted to be proud of your father, and all the things he’d done, but that wasn’t exactly a simple task.

The whole thing was complicated, and no one understood that better than you did.

You were sure that as soon as you said it, the truth would send him running for the hills but Tyson didn’t even blink. In fact, all he did was smile at you, a thoughtful nod accompanying the action.

It didn’t make any sense.

So much so that you actually had a hard time wiping the shocked look off your face, this had never happened before and you weren’t sure how to react. Hadn’t he heard you? Why was he just sitting there?

“Aren’t you gonna run or laugh or something? I said Hades” You repeated, doing your best to keep your concern for him at bay. For the first time in this entire exchange, you were beginning to feel like there may have been something wrong with him.

What was going on?

The boy only shrugged, clearly unaffected by your earth-shattering confession. Obviously, he didn’t understand what it meant, or he didn’t know well enough to be bothered, but a few days in this place would teach him.

The others would, no doubt, rub off on him and he’d be teasing you by the end of the week. That was what always happened, even with the ones that didn’t want to be outright about the way they felt.

“Nope, my dad’s Poseidon” he leveled, answering his previous question when it was clear to him that you weren’t going to return the courtesy. In all fairness though, you were still trying to wrap your mind around the whole thing.

It didn’t make any sense.

Though, before you could ask any more, you heard Clarice from the other side of the cafeteria. She had this time honored tradition of tormenting you, just for the fun of it, but the worst of it all was that you’d grown accustomed to it.

Even in a place where you were all misfits, you managed to stay on the outskirts.

“Hey Jackson, you’d better get your brother away from the freak before she sells his soul into damnation” she cackled, laughter erupting from all around her. Truth be told, it wasn’t one of her better insults but for some reason your stomach sank at the prospect of Tyson becoming afraid of you.

You had only known him for a little while, but even in such a short time, he’d shown you a kindness that you weren’t used to here. He didn’t even seem bothered by the truth about who your father was at first, but nothing said that couldn’t change.

The last thing you wanted was for him to leave you all alone again, you were just starting to get over his kindness.

Fortunately for you, Tyson didn’t seem to be having any of it. Where you assumed he would have gotten up and left, you found him still sitting there.

It was hardly what you’d been expecting, but, you weren’t entirely ungrateful for it. The trouble was that Clarisse and the others were far from done. The punchline of their torture was yet to come.

“Luke,Is that sulfur I smell?” she called, once again earning a laugh as she made a production of the whole thing, searching for the blonde in the crowd. Really, you didn’t get the hype of it all, but the rest of the campers got a kick out of this whole thing.

You did your best to just let them finish, not even bothering to react. You had tried everything you could think of to make it stop but it was useless. For some reason, this was what they found funny, and there was little you could do about it.

“Does she do that a lot-” Tyson started, but you stopped him with a single finger in the air. You knew that their little charade was almost over, and it was best to let them finish. At least then, you could finish your lunch in peace.

“I don’t know, I think it’s just the hell fire” he replied, a dumb shrug on his shoulders as he tossed it away, landing the dig in the same way he did every time.

They would never leave that alone. It didn’t matter if it was during a bonfire, or roasting marshmallows, they always made the hell fire joke. At first, you had tried to remind them that you’d never met your father either, like them, but that didn’t seem to matter.

By this point, they were clearly having too much fun to stop now.

“They’re done now, but  you should probably go sit somewhere else before they start making jokes about you too” you suggested, shooing him away with the back of your hand. Naturally, you assumed that if the rest hadn’t been enough to scare him away, this was certainly going to do the trick.

No one in their right mind would sign up for the kind of ridicule you had to endure every day, but Tyson couldn’t understand your hesitance. Ever after everything, he thought you were cool, and even if you weren’t, no one deserved to be treated like that.

You were the only person he’d ever met who didn’t seem to care about his affliction. When no one else would, you had offered him somewhere to belong, even as small of a gesture as it was.

It meant something to him, and he wasn’t just going to forget it.

It was true that the two of you were polar opposites, literally and figuratively but Tyson couldn’t bear the idea of leaving you alone. You were a little different and it was clear that it would take some time to gain your trust, but he wasn’t against doing that.

One good friend was better than a hundred who wouldn’t be there for him when he needed them.

“I think I’d like to stay, if that’s okay with you” he grinned, taking a second to take in the look on your face as he spoke. You didn’t want them to know, to see how much it affected you, but he could see it.

What they’d said had upset you.

Without much thought at all, he reached across the table to take your hand in his own. It was an action you couldn't have seen coming, or something you knew what to do with but it did what it was designed to do.

Slowly, your hand, that had previously been crunched in a tight fist, relaxed against his own as you allowed yourself to calm down.

It was something that caught you off guard, but you chose to ignore your initial instinct to snatch back your hand from his grasp. There was something much more pressing going on, something you needed to know.

“Why?” You asked, doing your best not to sound super bothered but you couldn’t help it, it didn’t make any sense to you.

What kind of person would risk the ridicule of your entire camp just to be friends with someone like you? If you were in his place, you wouldn’t have done it.

Again Tyson shrugged, giving your question only a second of thought.

“I’ve always liked fire, I think that it’s beautiful” he allowed, earning an instant scoff from you. You knew what he was trying to do, and it may have worked, had he kept that line to himself. No one knew fire better than you, and you’d never considered it beautiful.

You’d never considered it at all, not really.

“It’s dangerous” you counter but before he could even register your words, he’d made up his mind.

“It’s powerful, like you are”

His words were so final, so honest, that even you couldn’t argue. It didn’t matter that you didn’t believe what he was saying, because you knew that he did. Somehow, in less than an hour, he’d managed to learn more about you than anyone else in the camp knew.

It was just the way that he was.

There was something about Tyson that you couldn’t argue with, no matter how hard you tried to poke holes in his argument.

He had this light about him that was so brilliant, and so real. In every way, he was good for the sake of good, and while it didn’t make any sense that he wanted to be anywhere near you, you couldn’t help but be grateful for it.

“How can you think that I’m powerful? You don’t even know me” you asked, completely unsure what he was on. As much as you wanted to believe what he was saying, as much as you wanted it to be the truth, you just weren’t sure.

It wasn’t like he had years of experience by your side. The two of you might as well have been complete strangers, and even still, he felt completely comfortable making such heavy statements about you.

Naturally, you expected some sort of realization or step back on his part since you’d clearly gotten the better of him, but that never came.

It was clear that Tyson was genuinely just that clueless. There was no way he really believed those things about you, or that he really had any interest in what was best for you, he was probably just lonely.

Like you were.

Still, just when you thought you’d once again beat him with logic, Tyson smiled. It was the sort of thing that told you the wheels in his head were turning, that he was coming up with some cheesy crap that you couldn’t argue with.

...And of course, you were right.

“I can see it, it’s right there in the pools of your eyes” he hummed, only serving to confuse you further. He had this ability to say the deepest and most inspiring things as if they were no big deal.

You couldn’t help but struggle a bit with the idea that someone so pure and gentle could enjoy your company so much.

There were certain things that you’d come to understand about yourself since coming to Camp Halfblood, and one of those was that you were incredibly hard to get to know. To be fair, no one had ever put in a real effort to do it, but if they did, you were sure they’d have trouble.

You just didn’t do it well.

To you, it didn’t seem like Tyson should have been any different, but here he was. He’d made it farther in this conversation than most people did in months of knowing you, but that said more about him than you.

He was that kind of person, the kind of person who could find the best in even the worst people.

“It really doesn’t bother you that I'm y’know, evil?” You ask, taking a sip of your cherry soda through a glass straw, unable to keep yourself from biting down on the object slightly as your jaw tensed.

You thought you ought to ask, but that didn’t mean you were looking forward to having to hear his answer. As best you knew, this was going to be it and Tyson would just get up and leave, like he should have done at the start of this.

After a few seconds without an answer from him, you let yourself look at him, trying your best to gage his reaction to what you’d asked.

It wasn’t until this moment that you saw a hint of upset in the blue eye, staring you down as best he could without blushing. He wasn’t angry about your question, but that didn’t make it any easier for him to say what he wanted to.

The only thing that forced the words was his lips was the understanding of just how true they were.

“You aren’t evil, no matter what they say” He coos, a softness in his voice that felt almost intimate. It was something you hadn’t been expecting, but even more unexpected than that was the way your stomach flipped at his words.

Though, before you could say anything else, Tyson let go of your hand and left you all alone at your table, awestruck and at a loss for words.

[idchaekyung-blog]

              hello, idolize ! after inspiration slapped me in the face late last night, and after writing my baby’s bio in only a few hours, i can happily say that i’m overjoyed to be accepted into this beautiful group with my one and only: song chaekyung, or bella. she’s a twenty-seven year vocal prodigy who’s sitting pretty as the main vocalist ( and lousiest dancer ) in 99′s heaven. she’s had a long career, and hopes to make it even longer by eventually going solo, but that all will come in time. for now, though, i’ve left some tl;dr information below the read-more, and if any of you lovelies would be interested in plotting with us, please feel free to like this post ! i’ll be making my way through welcome messages tonight / tomorrow, so i can’t wait to talk to all of you and get to know you better. let’s all have a good time, yeah? xx.

basics !

> chaekyung trained under 99 entertainment from ‘09 to ‘10, and was quick to début. > honestly, she thought it’d be a piece of cake in training, but surprise !!!! it wasn’t, lol > she has a strong opera background, so she had to unlearn some classical technique in order to better fit the mold that 99 was trying to shape for heaven. it was frustrating, and really, she probably contemplated quitting more than a few times, but she needed to prove to herself that she was good enough at her craft, and to show her mother that she could be successful, so she stayed the course, and now... well, let’s just say that she’s so, so, sooo glad that she did. > tw: parental abuse. speaking of her mother, she was abused by her for many, many years, and it stemmed from a very complicated background. see, chaekyung’s mom was also an opera singer / musical theatre actress, but it didn’t come as naturally to her as it did to her daughter. that being said, she turned resentful, jealous, and bitter. she’s still recovering from all of the slurs, and the negative comments, and the mental abuse, but with age, she’s gotten better about coping with all of that leftover baggage. she writes a lot of songs about it tbh. > truth be told, she’s one of the best singers in the industry, but she can’t have it all, of course. her pipes are pristine, but girl can’t dance... like, at all. she tries, and it’s sweet, but she seldom gets the desired effect. it’s what lands her in hot water the most, and has throughout her whole career, and it wasn’t until recently when she decided to swallow her pride and try to improve. > she’s kinda addicted to work, but has lots of fun little hobbies she loves to do, too. for ex, she loves to cook, and is damn good at it, too. it’s something that more-or-less came natural to her. additionally, she’s taken up writing poems and lyrics, and hopes to include most of what she’s penned in her solo efforts in the future. it’s become an all-out passion for her, tbh. > interested in learning more? feel free to read her profile or bio, or shoot me a message !

desired plots !

> first and foremost, i would love for her to have an absolute ride-or-die best friend around, preferably one that’s around her same age, ‘89 to ‘94 liner, or in her same group, that she truly relies on for everything. she would reciprocate, of course, but being that she’s kind of going through a lot at the moment, she would seriously need a shoulder to lean on every once in awhile. tw: death / cancer. she’s recently learned that her mom only has few months to live before succumbing to her ovarian cancer, so she really needs to vent things out and open up. > additionally, i’d love a good ol’ fashion rivalry plot-line, particularly one that explores your muse as a fantastic dancer, and mine as an amazing singer. mine has what yours doesn’t, and vice versa, and instead of teaming up to help each other out, they just live in bitterness and sit in it... refusing to swallow their prides to compliment each other, much less even talk, hah. for this, i think it’d make most sense if your muse were a female-identified person, but i’m open ! > while she’s a bit addicted to working, there are times, especially in heaven’s off-seasons, where she yearns for romance and sex, so i’d love for her to have a man that she can go to for either option, really. it can be a simple fwb situation, or something deeper, but i’d love for her to get a little possessive over someone, even if the feelings aren’t reciprocated. fun fact: she’s into younger men, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that she only hooks up with / dates them in an exclusive fashion. if you’re handsome, and treat her well, she’s definitely interested, hah. for this, i’m going to require that the mun / muse are both 18 or older internationally. thanks ! > in a similar motion, she’s always been a little curious about the same-sex, so if any girl out there is interested in showing her the ropes with no-strings-attached, hit her up lol. like the plot above, i’m gonna require that the mun, and muse, are both over 18 internationally. thanks ! > really, i’d love any and all plots, and i’ll be adding a deeper plot page soon, but these are a few that i can think of right now, so if any of these intrigue you, please let me know !

[ellanainthetardis]

Hello! Just a word of update: next week is christmas and the one after that is new year’s eve so we’re on a two week-ends hiatus for this story. I’m not leaving with you with a toooo big cliffhanger because I’m nice like that ;) I hope you enjoy this chapter and the completely crazy parents hayffie are!

Also don’t forget Hayffismas week starts tomorrow! I hope a lot of you are participating!

[ff] or {ao3]

47. 14 Weeks

“When are you coming back?”

Haymitch figured someone had to ask because Effie was all about the live and let live approach on that subject. Katniss sighed in the phone. He could hear noises on her side, someone was moving stuff in the distance, probably Johanna packing up her house. They had finally made it to Seven – talk about taking the scenic road – so he guessed she wouldn’t be away for too long now.

He desperately wanted her to come back to Twelve where he could keep an eye on her.

The incident with the Peacekeeper had made all his fears rear up their ugly heads. He was back to being paranoid, suspicious of everyone. The thought that some of the people who had hurt his family were free and running around… It kept him awake at night. And despite everything Effie had to say about it, he regretted not killing the man when he had had the chance.

It would have landed him in prison though, she had a point about that. And not seeing April grow up… No, it wasn’t worth it. It wasn’t worth it but it was a damn shame.

He knew he was hovering but he couldn’t help himself. He checked on Peeta at the bakery twice a day and stayed with Effie as much as he could – which meant until she got fed up and told him to give her space, something that usually ended up in a fight of epic proportions that only April’s crying could break.

It hadn’t been an easy week.

And he wanted Katniss back.

He wanted to stop worrying about someone getting the jump on her while she was at the other side of the country.

“I don’t know.” the girl admitted. “It might take a while to pack and we were talking about swinging by Eleven. I wanted… I thought I could check on Rue’s family.”

He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the kitchen wall. He wanted to tell her to forget about that and come home but…

“You’re careful, yeah?” he insisted needlessly. “Both of you.”

There was another sigh, clearly more irritated this time. “We’re fine. We can take care of ourselves, Haymitch. We’re big girls.”

They were adults even and he knew that. He simply wasn’t sure how to handle it. His job was to protect his girl, wasn’t it? The feeling hadn’t stopped when she had reached eighteen and it certainly wasn’t going away now.  

“If you do swing by Eleven… It’s a big District, chances are slim but… Can you look up Fay Mitchell? That’s Chaff’s sister… Guess I should have made contact sooner but…” he hesitated. “You know.”

He wasn’t sure it would be particularly well received. Fay had a temper and her brother was dead when Haymitch was still walking around.

“Sure.” Katniss agreed at once.

“If she needs anything or… Her sons maybe. I know she’s got sons…” He made a face, feeling ill-at-ease. “You let her know she can ask, yeah?”

“I will.” the girl promised. She understood, he supposed, she was going to do the same for Rue. “Plutarch’s being annoying. Can you give him a call? If he asks one more time if we’re interested on going on an official Panem Tour, Johanna’s going to get on a train to the Capitol just so she can strangle him. And I won’t stop her this time.”

Haymitch rolled his eyes. “You inspired him with your little road trip. Should have left well enough alone.”

The Mockingjay’s travels regularly appeared in the press and on various news channels. Her moving at random made it difficult for them to anticipate where she would turn up but it had became a sort of game by now.

For the government, it was a heaven sent distraction to the debate about private clinic versus national healthcare rights. The fact that some Capitol private structures were using technology acquired while experimenting with Mutts to grow perfect tailored organs for wealthy people who needed them when the rest of the population had to go on a national waiting list and make do with transplants that weren’t always successful had brought up the debate about the wealthy being above the law. Peeta was fervently opposed to it and it had made for more than a lively debate at the dinner table lately.

Truth be told, the question had been bouncing around for months now and Haymitch thought it was much more complicated than simply labeling it right or wrong. His own main objection was the Mutt thing, it wasn’t natural and it made him shudder just to think of it even if their success rate was ninety percents. Should the technology be shared with everyone? Sure. But he could see Paylor’s problem. If that option was only available to the elite it was because it was very, very expensive and financing it for the whole country would have lead Panem to bankruptcy. And the same went for other medical procedures that weren’t out there for everyone but that could save lives. It was either giving everyone a fighting chance or selecting a lucky few if the national healthcare was to hold.

It was a huge debate, elections would be coming in a little less than two years and the opposition was having a field day dragging Paylor. So, yes, Plutarch had seized the story of the Mockingjay popping around Panem with pleasure. It was never too bad for their approval rate to remind everyone who had fought in the war and who had not and Katniss was the perfect way to do that.

Of course, the Secretary of Communication would have preferred for the whole thing to be entirely supervised and organized by the government. A sort of modified Victory Tour that had Haymitch cringing as soon as the Capitol had mentioned it.    

“I just wish they would leave all of us alone.” Katniss grumbled. “You’ve seen their last one?”

If she referred to that morning headline, he had in fact seen it. Apparently people were wondering if she had left Peeta for Johanna now.

“You tell me if I need to give Johanna a talk about not hurting your feelings, sweetheart.” he teased.

The girl scoffed with some amusement and then cleared her throat. “How’s Effie?”

The question was tentative.

He was tempted to snap that Effie would have been better if the girl had been there because she was just as paranoid as he was those days. He bit that back. It wasn’t Katniss’ fault after all and it wouldn’t have been fair.

Effie and Peeta freaking out in the middle of the town had also hit the newspaper, naturally. At first, they had speculated that Peeta had had one of those episodes that had sent him in a clinic after the war – the tracker jacker’s venom thing was known, there had been no way to keep that private with so many rebels aware of the situation – and that Effie had simply been afraid for her daughter. Then, it had come out that Effie had been the one to freak out first and that had triggered speculations about her own mental health. And then, of course, someone had finally ferreted out that the man who had started it all was a former Peacekeeper – although blissfully unavailable to comment – and now all the gossip rags were in a frenzy about why that would send Effie screaming. Peeta, they understood but Effie?

It had brought back to light the whole debate about what had really happened to her during the war and why the rebels and the government had been so closed off about it. It had raised questions that hit a little too close to home.

It had been dying down in the last couple of days and Haymitch didn’t give it two more days before they all moved on to another scandal but it had been rough.

Effie hadn’t stepped out of the house further than to go to the mailbox for more than a week. She was having nightmares that kept them both up at night – and when she managed to get rest, it was his own night terrors that kicked in. She was obsessively cleaning the house every day. He sometimes caught her looking in the distance as if she had completely forgotten where she was…

Being around their daughter helped her a little but it wasn’t a magical remedy. She had been smiling more in the last few days though. She looked a bit calmer too, less on edge. He took it to mean they had weathered through the worst of it.

“Better.” he offered. “It’s your niece you want to ask about.”

Katniss snorted. “Alright. How’s your precious daughter, Haymitch?”

“She crawled for the first time three days ago.” he said, so pleased by that information he flushed.

Well… They called it crawling. Peeta had tactfully pointed out there wasn’t much moving involved. However, April managed to roll on her stomach and move maybe half an inch forward and that was already huge so it was crawling in his book.

He couldn’t believe she was already four months. Only just, of course, but still… Four months almost to the day since Effie had given birth. Four months since his life had drastically changed. Four months and he was so happy. He thought it wasn’t fair sometimes, how happy he was. Surely he didn’t deserve it… But he wouldn’t change it. Not for the world.

“You’re gonna burst with pride.” Katniss mocked, openly laughing at him.

He shrugged, a bit annoyed but not enough of a fool not to see she was right. “What can I say… My girls always make me proud.”

Katniss softened at the end of the line but he could feel the awkwardness creeping in a little. She wasn’t one to accept a compliment gracefully and he wasn’t in a habit of giving them so freely.

It was just that he felt stupidly sentimental lately.

April had made him soft.  

“And… How’s Peeta?” she asked with enough detachment that it sounded very fake. He could hear the yearning in her voice. Hidden but not quite well enough.

“Miserable.” he replied cheerfully even if it was just as fake as her apparent disinterest. “Wasn’t that the point? That boy misses you like crazy.”

“You know it’s not like that.” she muttered.

“Do I?” he taunted. “Give him another week and he’s gonna go after you himself.”

He could almost hear her rolling her eyes. “No, he won’t. Not if he knows what’s good for him. I’ll come back when I come back.”

“Think he learned his lesson, you know.” he insisted. “Maybe you can let him out of the doghouse now…”

“He’s not in… What the fuck are you even talking about?” she sighed. “Look, it’s not just about Peeta, okay? It’s about me too. This trip is great.”

He could understand that, he admitted. At her age… If he had had the means and the freedom to do it, he might have liked visiting Panem at his own leisure.

“I’m impressed you haven’t killed Jo yet.” he joked.

“Me too.” Katniss scowled. “Speaking of, I need to go make sure she’s buying actual food or we’ll just have alcohol for dinner. She drinks more than you do.” She must have realized what she had said because she backtracked quickly. “Used to.”

He frowned. “Yeah? That’s a problem? ‘Cause…”

Johanna, not unlike him, had a tendency to turn to derivatives to bury her problems.

“Don’t think so.” she answered, a little wary. “I think she’s just enjoying not being around a three years old for a change. I’m keeping an eye on her anyway.”

“Okay.” he sighed, letting it go. It wasn’t like he could do much about it at the moment. “Be careful, sweetheart. And if you need anything you call right away, alright?”

She promised in an exasperated tone, said her goodbyes and hung up before he could open his mouth again. He placed the phone back on its cradle with a sulk.

Then he followed the sound of laughter to the living-room and leaned against the doorframe for a moment, content to watch.

Effie was on her stomach on the rug in front of the fireplace where he had left her. She was playing with their daughter who seemed intent to escape by any mean necessary. April was slowly trying to crawl away, half an inch at a time, while Snowball who though that a game crawled at her side at the very same pace, awkwardly shimmying this way and that. It was, admittedly, hilarious to watch. And not very effective.

The more Effie laughed the more offended Snowball looked.

April wasn’t disturbed in the least.

“We’re gonna be running after her soon.” Haymitch commented with an amused smirk, pushing himself off the door to drop on the couch.

“Is it true?” she asked, gently rolling April on her back to press kisses all over her stomach. “Are we going to have to run after you, my darling?” More kisses had April flinging her arms and legs in obvious delight, her face all joy. “Are you going to be the little terror Papa says you will be?” Effie teased, poking the baby in the side, prompting more of those noises that sounded so much like giggles. Too soon for that, according to the books. Haymitch had long decided the books were bullshit because their baby clearly giggled. Effie play-bit her hand and Snowball bumped his big head in her shoulder, either to be let in on the game or in fear she would hurt the child. She ruffled his fur. “Yes, you’re a good boy.”  

Haymitch shook his head and clicked his fingers once to get the dog’s attention. It didn’t take much more for Snowball to leave the girls be and jump on him. He was definitely too big for that now but Haymitch suffered to be crushed by the Samoyed, scratching and petting where he liked best.

Yeah…

He probably didn’t deserve to be this happy or to love his life so much.

Effie gave April her plain attention a little while longer until it became clear that their daughter was more interested in being allowed back on the playing mat. Her latest passion was to try to catch the blue fish hanging above her head. It made him smile.

“How’s Katniss?” Effie asked, distracted, as she started gathering the toys that always seemed to get scattered around.

“Good. They’re in Seven.” he told her, quickly summing up the conversation for her.

Effie squeezed the stuffed fish Haymitch had bought April two days earlier to her chest, in deep thought. “Peeta is miserable. And with what happened last week… He needs her…”

“They talked about it, I think.” he shrugged. “She didn’t say but the boy told me she called after it hit the papers. He told her not to change her plans for him.”

“Of course he didn’t.” she scoffed. “How stupidly noble.” She checked that April was fine and then stood up only to wince and sway dangerously left and right. “Oh.” Haymitch pushed the dog off his lap and was halfway up when she waved him back down. “I’m fine. It’s a spell of dizziness.”

She didn’t look fine and he forced her to take a seat next to him on the couch with a frown. “That’s been happening a lot, Effie.”

Since the incident with the Peacekeeper. He had dismissed it at first, had thought it was just a side effect of the nasty flashback, but she was better now and her head still tended to spin from time to time.

“I just stood up too quickly, that’s all.” she reassured him. “I’m not… I’m not exactly at the top of my game, I’m afraid.”

Not sleeping and taking care of a baby on top of it made her tired. He supposed it could explain the bouts of dizziness but there were some other symptoms he was sure she was keeping to herself. He had heard her throw up a few times.

“If you’re sick, you need to tell me.” he chided her. “We need to have it checked out.”

She immediately shook her head. “I don’t want to go to the hospital.”

And there lied the crux of the problem, he figured.

“Sweetheart, you’ve been dizzy… You’ve been throwing up…” he frowned. “That’s not exactly normal.”

Guilt flashed on her face, probably because she had tried to keep that away from him. “It was only twice and… It was out of anxiety. I worked myself up badly and it resulted in an upset stomach, that’s all. There is no reason to worry, I promise. I’ve just been tired since… I’m fine, Haymitch. I feel fine. Just tired.”

He wasn’t pleased with that assessment and he wasn’t sure he was buying it.

“If it doesn’t go away you’ll talk to Larcher.” he insisted. He didn’t want to push right then because he didn’t think it would have gone out too well but he wasn’t going to let that slide either, not if something was wrong with her.

“Yes.” she surrendered, curling up against his chest, her knees propped on his thigh.

He wrapped his arm around her and rested his cheek against the top of her head. Snowball had lied down next to the playing mat and was watching April with rapt attention. The baby was having the time of her life trying to catch that fish. Everything was perfect and it made his chest ache.

“Can’t bear the thought of losing you.” His voice was gruff and he could feel his cheeks flushing a little. As if it was still a secret.

“You won’t.” she hummed, cupping his cheek to press a kiss against his lips. It wasn’t quite chaste or innocent and he leaned into it, chasing a little after her mouth when she retreated. “I promise if I don’t feel better in a few days I will talk to Larcher but honestly I am fairly sure it is just nerves.”

“Okay.” he breathed out, tightening his grip on her shoulders.

She settled back against his chest, her fingers drawing random distracted patterns on his chest. “Do you know Mrs Leemon?”

He frowned, a bit thrown by the change of topic. He had to think hard about it too. “Four houses down the street, yeah?”

She had been amongst the first to come back to Twelve but he had never really had any occasion to talk to her.

“Yes.” she confirmed. “Well… She saw a couple of the outfits I made for me and April and… She asked me if I was for hire.”

“When?” he asked. “You haven’t been out in a while.”

“She cornered me at the mailbox while you were walking Snowball.” she chuckled. “I thought she was out for gossip at first. She might have been actually but…” She gave a small shrug. “She still looked interested in the outfits so I invited her in to discuss what she would like and… One thing led to another, I showed her my sketches…” She was taking pain to sound calm and detached but he could hear the cautious excitation underneath. “I was a little nervous, you know. She has always been polite but I do not know her that well…”

She had been nervous about the woman possibly laughing at her work. Thanks to Elindra’s wonderful parenting skills.

Haymitch did his best to keep the sudden anger from her. There were times when he managed to forget just how her parents had treated her but there were also moments when he would have gladly bashed their heads against the wall for it.

“She liked them.” he said confidently.

He had never claimed to be an expert in fashion and he had made his opinion on her eccentric outfits clear over the years but she had toned that down a lot since coming to live in Twelve. She always looked classy, too much for the District, but rarely outlandish. And he might not be paying attention half the time but he had seen her sketch or sew enough times to know half her wardrobe was composed of things she had made by herself – and most of April’s clothes were too.

Effie was Effie. Heads always turned in her wake – and not only because she had been an escort – and she was so naturally charismatic and beautiful that some women tried to emulate her just to catch the same kind of attention. She was still launching trends. Of course, people would be interested in her sketches. She was the only one who doubted that.

“She did.” she beamed, not bothering to reign her enthusiasm in anymore. “Well, she wasn’t really interested in the gowns but she liked the summer dresses and a few of the other outfits… And she loved the baby outfits. She has a little girl, you know? So she asked if I would take an order for a few things both for her and the child and… And I said yes.”

“That’s great, sweetheart.” he offered, dropping a kiss on top of her head.

“I wasn’t quite sure what sort of fees I should set but… We figured something out that worked for both of us.” she explained, sitting up straight. Her eyes were bright and sparkling. She looked happy, excited… It made her look ten years younger and he was reminded of the bubbly exuberant girl she used to be when he had met her. She kept on talking, waving her hands in the air in her enthusiasm. “A few people asked where I bought my clothes and I was always flattered that they would think I bought them but I didn’t look any further than that. Eileen suggested that I should open a shop a few times, you know…”

He tucked a strand of blond hair behind her ear, amused by her antics. “That’s something you want to do? Open a shop?”

He didn’t really know how he felt about that. It would mean that she would be busy. He had no experience with opening or even tending to a business but it seemed time consuming. And they just had a baby… He wasn’t sure he wanted to share her that much.

But she looked so happy and excited…

He wanted her to be happy in Twelve. He had always known she wasn’t good at being idle and that she had an independent streak. Effie Trinket needed challenges. She needed goals. She needed something that was completely hers in which she could not only excel but be admired for.

And he wasn’t about to take that away from her if it could make her life easier.

He could take care of April while she worked, he figured. He had no need or inclination to get a job that was more complicated than raising geese. He would have all the time in the world for their daughter.

“Perhaps.” she admitted, looking a little sheepish. “But the capital…”

“You don’t need to worry about money.” he cut her off. They had enough money. If she wanted a shop, he would give it to her. He owed her that and so much more. For failing her during the war. For the years of anguish before that.

“Yes, I do.” she frowned, her enthusiasm deflating a little. “We have a child to think about. If I open a shop and it doesn’t work out…”

“It will.” he shrugged.

“You are sweet but you cannot know that.” she countered.

“Yeah, I do. ‘Cause you’ve got talent.” he growled. “And I’ve yet to see you fail at anything.”

“I don’t want to risk our savings on a whim.” she insisted.

He rolled his eyes. “Then, talk to your father. He bought half the place as it is. What’s one more building?”

She immediately shook her head. “Absolutely not. If I am to do this, it will be my project. I do not want my father – or my mother for that matter – meddling.”

He was lost. “You don’t want our money… You don’t want your father’s… How are you gonna do this, then?” He made a face. “Not a loan. I trust those bankers just as far as I can throw them.”

Her lips twitched in amusement, probably because she thought he was being unnecessarily paranoid. “With my own.”

“You don’t have any money of your own.” he replied before he could think twice about it.

The comment hurt her, he saw it plainly.

Money wasn’t a topic they discussed often, mainly because it was better left unaddressed. Effie had always been proud of her independence, being forced to financially lie on him for almost two years had always been a sore point for her. Haymitch had never minded. Mainly because, even though he would never had been stupid enough to voice it in her immediate vicinity, he found it natural. He was the man, it was his job to provide for his family. It was how it had always been in Twelve before the war – even though most women ended up finding a job to make ends meet. She would have found it very old-fashioned, of course, and probably insulting so he kept his mouth shut but he had considered it his duty to make sure she had everything she needed well before they had tied the knot.

Nevertheless, she resented it. Her pride had suffered when she had been forced to tell him about the debts she had left behind, when she had asked if he could help her out. He hadn’t hesitated a single second, had never even thought twice about it. It had been implied – and often stated in the beginning – that she would pay him back for the scores he had settled on her behalf. He had never wanted to hear about it. He still didn’t. Money was just money. She was so much more important.

“Precisely.” she said, forcing herself to sound just as cheerful as before. “I thought I could establish myself as a dressmaker first. It would allow me to build up a customer base, to control the amount of work I would take and to earn some money. Besides, I can do that from home so I won’t feel like I am abandoning April. It would be slow going but… It would test the water… If there is enough demand in a year or so then I will think about opening a real business. What do you think?”

It was very thought through.

“How long have you been planning this?” he asked.

She looked a little sheepish and dropped her eyes to her hands before meeting his gaze. “A while, to be honest.”

He shrugged, studying her with some amusement. “Sounds like a plan, then.”

She beamed.

He wasn’t exactly expecting to get his lap full of her but he played along willingly, responding to her kisses, barely remembering to keep his hands from roaming all over her because April was in the same room.

“You really thought I wouldn’t support you?” he mumbled between two kisses, a bit taken aback by her reaction.

“You aren’t my best fan when it comes to fashion.” she argued.

He drew back, coiling a hand around her nape. “I want you to be happy. Whatever form that takes. You know that, yeah?”

Her blue eyes twinkled when she leaned in to place a teasing ghost of a kiss on his lips. “It takes the form of you letting me turn the study into a proper workshop.”

“Thought we were making it a guest room?” he snorted but then shrugged. “You can have the whole house for all I care.”

“There is always the big cupboard upstairs…” she frowned after a minute. “How big is it anyway? Given the house’s proportions, it must be quite large… Now that I think about it… This cupboard doesn’t make much sense… Why… It must at least be as big as the study, right? And… Wait a minute… Isn’t there a window? I am sure there is a window on that side of the house…”

“Ah, yeah… That cupboard…” He cleared his throat.

How did he even begin to explain that cupboard…

It was full to the brim with all the boxes full of Capitol bullshit that he hadn’t managed to cram in the attic plus most of the horrible sculptures the house had come with – some of which had been as tall as he was – as well as a few pieces of furniture he really hadn’t liked and some  awful paintings… Step by step it had become a room he never opened because it was simply full of junk – real junk, not the burned mementoes he had religiously kept in the attic. Every time he had broken something and had cared enough to get rid of it that was where he had tossed it.

When she had come to work for him Hazelle had glanced once in there and had never opened that door again. Effie had never really checked it out, he figured. She had asked once, a little after she had moved in, he had dismissed it as a storing area and she had simply run along with the cupboard assumption.

To be really honest, he didn’t even notice the closed door anymore. It was part of the wall at this point, like a framed painting or the vase full of flowers Effie had insisted would brighten the hallway.

“See… I never specifically said it was a cupboard…” he winced.

She didn’t look impressed.

He could see the wheels turning in her head as she mentally compared the layout of their house to the children’s and put her interest in architecture to good use. She must have reached the logical conclusion because she licked her lips and her arms became a little heavier around his neck. She hadn’t moved off his lap though so it couldn’t be that bad.

“Haymitch, please, tell me there isn’t another guest room in this house I knew nothing about.” she requested.

His wince deepened and he tightened his hold on her wait. “Technically, it’s not a guest room either.”

It was a room full of junk that was impossible to enter because he had done an excellent job at making things fit where it shouldn’t have. The smallest room upstairs too. Really, it wasn’t that far off from a cupboard.

It would take a hammer and a lot of patience to get inside.

“Haymitch.” she growled. She narrowed her eyes at him, her lips pursed.

“It doesn’t even have a bathroom!” he exclaimed in his defense.

And it was probably the only reason there was a bathroom unattached to either bedroom at all on the first floor. They never used that one anyway. It was what Effie called “the guests’ bathroom” because apparently it wasn’t done to make their friends and family cross their bedroom to use the toilets or to wash their hands.

“I cannot believe you.” she sighed, shaking her head. “And I cannot believe I didn’t figure it out sooner.”

He dropped his head against the back on the couch, very much pouting. “You’re gonna make me clear it, yeah?”

She didn’t even bat an eyelash. “What do you think?”

He thought he was sentenced to moving a lot of heavy things around and that she was going to have a field day cleaning and decorating. He also thought they wouldn’t have an excuse not to host her parents when they would come to Twelve now – and that chagrined him most of all. And lastly he though three years earlier he would have told her to do it herself if she wanted it done when now he would obey because it would make her happy and save him an argument.

He was whipped.

Oh, so whipped.

He wondered how someone could be that happy being so whipped.  

[tinytendril]

Title | she breaks me up, she lifts me up

Description | Prompt: April showers. High school AU. Childhood friends, Caitlin and Barry become estranged after their first kiss. Barry struggles to find his way back to normalcy for both of them, whether he wants it or not.

A/N: I love this fandom too much not to join in on the fun with this fluff piece. The OC inspired this one-shot from the episode, The Rainy Day Women. Also, click the title for a pretty sweet song.

-

‘Whatever you’re selling, I ain’t buying, Allen,’ Caitlin snaps, with teeth gritting.

She’s aggressively moving past him and anything else in her way, trying her best to evade him through the rush of their peers on their way to second period class. He pants after her, ‘Cait, this is different. If you could just give me a chance–’

‘You had your chance and you blew it.’ She doesn’t give him an edge in the conversation, and she clearly wants to end it. Her concentration is to her AP English class and she quickens her pace up the flight of stairs before them.

‘I know’, Barry agrees and he almost trips over his own feet on the final stair. ‘But, please–’

She steers a teetering platform sandal around, rooting her smaller yet intimidating frame in front of him, and he holds onto the railing to avoid being thrown down the staircase. The closeness, the tiny and almost indistinguishable freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose, gets to him. He can’t help his eyes wandering down from the fury in her eyes. It makes him gulp a dry lump in his throat.

The curve of her cupid’s bow. The tickle that erupts in an infectious giggle from the same lips. The tiny smile she makes across his own lips when they…

She must notice his staring. She points a finger to his chest, but she retrieves it before she touches him, ‘Don’t!’

He shakes his head. ‘I know I blew it, Cait.’

‘You have no idea, no idea,’ she puffs out audibly, cradling her books tighter to her chest. ‘It was humiliating.’

Caitlin Snow, for all the bruising words she’s landed and all the bluster she had shown him for the better half of the week, deflates. Finally, she mirrors how he feels or rather how he’s been feeling in the past several days.

Exactly, one week ago, when the girl of his dreams hadn’t decided he was persona non grata, Caitlin kissed him.

‘I’m sorry,’ Barry tries earnestly, hopefully. ‘But, I broke up with Patty right afterwards. I swear, I had meant to do it before you…’

The curve of her smile on his lips. The turn of her mouth, from sweet to concern. The realization and hurt in the swell of tears at the corners of her eyes.

The last thing he wanted was to complicate this friendship, even if he had always wanted more. At least, when it was a silent wish, it didn’t cause her this much pain. So, his chest tightens to see her furrowing brows, the difficult way she attempts to piece her thoughts together. ‘You should have told me Patty was still your girlfriend and you should have told Patty the truth before I did what I did.’

She only grants him a few furtive looks, no doubt pulling back her punches and jabs to his pride, but she settles on stalking off instead.

Not since kissing him, and letting her indulge in his selfish want of their ill-timed first kiss, he’s left dumbfounded.

He should have told his then-girlfriend, Patty, that he had been harbouring a crush on another girl all along. If he had to honest, it was always Caitlin, for longer than he can recall starting to notice the opposite sex.

Though, more importantly, he should have told Caitlin that he wasn’t exactly single and only estranged with Patty before Caitlin found him in a crowd of their closest friends to express everything he had only dreamt of expressing to her.

He should have found another way to make amends besides blasting Caitlin’s voicemail box full or visiting her home when her mother had insisted over and over again that her daughter was ‘out’.

And every rejected apology has him tracing back his steps to that damn kiss…

The wind knocked out of his lungs after the shock of her scolding him after he confessed of his mistake. The humiliation he felt for her and not for himself when she met Patty’s eyes on her way to escape him.

‘Leave me alone,’ she had raged and meant it when he chased after her.

Numb from his toes to his fingertips, he conceded and watched her leave him.

-

Patty, Caitlin and Felicity are in a study group. Cisco repeats via text, Patty, Caitlin and Felicity are laughing, chatting and enjoying each other’s company.

And they’re not being weird, Barry texts back. They’re not talking about…

Nope. Cisco spares him a humourous emoji.

He erases and texts a few words before settling on, I hope it’s not weird.

They’re not mourning your loss, and this time Cisco does send him some choice animated faces. They are the stronger sex.

The lack of response does make Cisco sympathize. Does it mean anything if Caitlin tends to start staring contests with Patty when she’s not looking?

You’re just saying that, comes his quick reply.

I guess it could mean anything, but…Cisco builds suspense with more ellipses.

Cisco…

You could wait and see what that means.Cisco ends the dramatic pause and Barry decides to take at least one win against the insurmountable losses so far.

-

But, he was never good at waiting, and he’s in motion again.

It would have been one month of their friendship of being intact and unscathed if they hadn’t kissed, if he hadn’t royally messed up their perfect situation. He wonders if he hadn’t ruined their chances, would Ronnie have happened?

Focus, he repeats secretly to himself. One foot in front of the other.

His one tracked mission takes him to the library, where she’s bound to be. There, he’d take his mother’s encouraging words and tell her, ‘against all the odds, even for our friendship back, give me one more chance.’

He makes it to the non-fiction literature section when he hears the infectious laughter that habitually has him grinning, but he quickly falls short of his sure footsteps when he hears someone else joining her.

‘What do you think? My family would love for you to join us for the holidays…’ Ronnie, of course, sounds confident in whatever he’s asking her. ‘It’d be a perfect way to introduce you to my parents too.’

‘Ronnie, do you think it’s too soon? I mean, it’s been a couple of weeks.’

‘If anything, come for the cruise food–the pizzeria there is bomb.’

‘Costa Rica…’ she pauses, and it makes Barry’s stomach churn tortuously while he listens on. ‘I can ask my parents,’ she finally relents.

Friendship, no, he regards his mother’s advice. He was never able to focus since Ronnie started to naturally appear at Caitlin’s side more and more. Now, he spies the way he looks at her, and he knows exactly what Ronnie’s thinking; Ronnie doesn’t want friendship any more than he does himself.

‘Allen!’ Felicity practically blares into his ear, catching him off guard, and he dares to peek through the shelves and books that separate Ronnie and Caitlin from himself–they spot him.

‘Cisco said he saw you making a beeline to the library. I need help with chem homework, can you help me during lunch?’

‘Um…’ Barry nervously taps his fingers on the back of his neck, and then imitates the same tempo under his jittery feet.

‘Barry?’ Caitlin comes around the corner. Concern etched into her features, and at least it’s not rage like the other interactions he’s found with her before.

Worse still, Ronnie joins them with a similar amount of pity in his stare.

‘Hello? Crisis here. The quiz is tomorrow, Barr.’ Felicity is confused, though nonplussed by the tension practically radiating off of Barry and Caitlin’s staring and ineffective starting and stopping of their thoughts.

It’s his turn to walk away this time, his stomach and heart pulsing in time to his fleeing steps.

When he arrives at home after a tortuously long day, he does so as discreetly as possible, feeling guilty because he doesn’t have the heart to tell his mother that her pep talk came of nothing. So, he tiptoes past the living room, where his parents nap in front of the television, and bolts as quickly as he can up the stairs to his bedroom.

Staring into the backyard, he watches the pittering and pattering of droplets splatter across his window. It was a mistake, of course, to brood this way. It was April, and the week long rain showers constantly reminded him that Caitlin loved to stay in when it poured. She liked the white noise and cozy days in bed, she once told him.

Because he hadn’t stopped ruminating yet, his thoughts trace back to the embarrassing exchange in the library. The way she obviously felt pity for him after finding him lurking behind a bookshelf, and it might have been amusing for Ronnie. Though he doubts someone as friendly and amiable as Ronnie could think so cruelly. God, he wanted to hate the guy. At least.

And because his thoughts surely didn’t need any more encouragement, he wonders if she’s peering out of her own window at this very moment. He even dares to conjure up a daydream of Caitlin saying ‘no’ to Ronnie. His brain floats with images of a sunset and Caitlin washed in its warm light as they share the view of an open sea.

-

‘These impromptu visits aren’t getting old, are they?’ Barry stalls by her bedroom door, knowing he’s trying her patience.

‘Well, as much as I’ve enjoyed pretending that I’ve been ‘out’ every time you’ve made these visits, I actually am tired of meeting this way.’

Before she closes the door on him, he tries and fails eloquence, ‘But–I–hear me out, please.’

‘You have two minutes.’

‘Well, you see, I could skip some talking points but then it wouldn’t make the kind of impact–’

‘One and a half minute left.’ She taps at an imaginary watch on her wrist.

‘Alright, let’s expedit this. I can do that,’ he puffs out a nervous laugh, and continues with his eyes closed as though he’s envisioning his words, ‘you’re my best friend. You have always been, no matter what.’

Nerves on fire, he opens his eyes, and she’s unfolded her crossed arms. His heart eases at the sight of her expectant gaze. Regardless of being estranged for some time, he is reminded of the fact that she is his best friend. He knows this look, among many others, with her eyes, the warmness and the open book way about them. And this look she wears now says she is listening.

‘I can’t imagine how the rest of our senior year is going to be if we continue the way we are now. Cait, I miss my best friend. Your laugh, your eyes going wide when you’re stressed, the way you make toast. Your opinion, the only one that matters to me. God, you’re right here and I still miss you.’

Maybe she’ll want to hear him say that he wants her too and spring forward the same way she had last time…

Except, there’s always an except. On her bed, in neat folds and piles, are her belongings in two separate luggage pieces.

‘Wow, you’re really going on that cruise.’ He can’t look at her when he assumes this.

She seems to ignore him. ‘Did you come here to say anything else, Barry?’

It’s strange how much of his resolve crumbles as he focuses on her sandals and sun hats lining her carry-on case.

‘Barry,’ she persists, forgetting her countdown altogether. She’s all ears now, and yet he can’t focus on her, but on her obvious intent on leaving for sunny days on the decks of a luxury cruise with Ronnie.

‘You should bring some SPF.’

‘Barry.’ Her annoyance is bubbling up again.

‘Safety first, right? I don’t see that in there.’

‘Seriously?’

‘Yeah, don’t forget that.’ He inches away from her as he explains a few more facts about sunblock. Soon, he’s backed up against the wall down a hallway facing her bedroom and nearly knocks over a nearby vase.

She doesn’t say goodbye, but folds her arms again before she shuts the door after him.

-

‘Quit staring at your phone and make the call already,’ Cisco grouses. ‘We both know you won’t stop moping if you don’t decide.’

Guiltily, Barry finally acknowledges his promise to Cisco of a bro-to-bro, uninterrupted conversation about his missed connection at the Central City Mall. The One, Cisco described a sultry encounter with a mysterious brunette in a photobooth.

‘After I make this call, I promise I’ll give you my undivided–’

‘We’ll see,’ Cisco waves him off and busies himself with turning on the PS4 to kill the time before Barry returns.

Taking in a deep breath, Barry dials her number as he finds privacy in the adjoining room. While it rings, he almost hangs up a few times before he is interrupted by Caitlin’s voicemail message.

Today is the day Caitlin joins Ronnie on a two-week cruise, off into the sunset he imagines with a discernable sharp pain in the centre of his chest. The pain twists deeper when he decides her messaging system is a sign. With a few hours left before she leaves, as Felicity had pried to find out for him, he resigns.

‘Hey!’ He dials back with the ingenuine pitch in his voice. Clearing his throat, and trying again, he continues, ‘Cait, I, uh, hope you get this before you leave…’ He takes another measured breath. ‘I just wanted to say that I hope you have a good trip. I mean, I hope you and Ronnie have a really good trip. I know you might not believe me, but, truthfully,’ he takes his time to say his next few words, because it takes all of him to not be selfish again.

He could start a heartfelt speech about their friendship spanning their childhood having everything to do with how happy they could be. He could mention that Ronnie doesn’t know her as well as he does. He could start naming all her favourite book titles and the times they spent under the abandoned bleachers on the far side of the old football field, talking about nothing and everything.

But, finally, he reminds himself why he made the call in the first place, and he squashes the small voice that goads him on. ‘When you come back to school after break, I want you to be happy, with whoever you want to be happy with.’

He hangs up and finds Cisco lying face first into his couch.

‘Well, you need to fix this.’ Cisco he mumbles into the cushion he’s molded his face to.

‘Fix what?’

Without lifting his head, Cisco points to the racing lines of static across his flatscreen television. He mumbles again, something indecipherable.

‘What?’ Barry sighs audibly.

Cisco whips his head out of the cushion, ‘I will not be denied this one pleasure. You owe me.’ ‘It’s pouring outside, can’t we just wait until it dies down?’

Cisco answers him with a thrusted hand grasping at a familiar piece of bright red and yellow polysynthetic material.

‘Where did you find that?’ Barry snatches it away from only seconds of recognition.

‘Your mom says you don’t have an umbrella or a raincoat. And since you need both hands to fix the satellite outside, you can at least keep your head dry.’

‘This,’ Barry staring at the unraveling memory from his childhood. ‘This is a Halloween mask that I can’t even tell fits.’

‘Halloween mask? Watch your mouth, that’s a silver age superhero. My personal hero–’

‘The Flash.’ Barry finishes for him as if he’s heard plenty of this tirade before.

Barry trudges outside in a mask he’s sure was more for Cisco’s enjoyment and less for his own comfort, and peers through the dark mesh of the mask’s eye holes to view the satellite dish in question.

As his clothes soak in the rain, distracting himself with the grey, temperamental skies, he decides he deserved this.

This is for ruining the rare gift of a friendship that has almost lasted his childhood.

This is for ruining his chances with a heartbreakingly beautiful, intelligent, kind girl–the girl.

This is…

From where he stands, on a step ladder he’s sure needs to be thrown out after this use, and through the dark mesh, he sees someone walking up the footpath to his front door.

‘Patty?’ He calls through a cupped hand at the side of his mouth. ‘What are you–’

‘Why haven’t you told Caitlin yet?’ She shouts, clinging tightly to the umbrella in her hand.

‘What–’ He tries to shout but she stands in front of his step ladder now, motioning him to come down. He follows her furious pointing to the bottom of the last rung of the ladder.

‘Why haven’t you told her about our break up? Are you a masochist?’

He tries to explain further but then she thrusts the umbrella underneath both of them, and gestures for him to take his mask off.

‘Why didn’t you let her know that you only spared me a real break up until after my sister’s wedding that day.’

‘Does it matter? I still lied…to both of you.’ He shakes his head, and knows that she’s as well meaning as Cisco and Felicity have been, helping boost his morale about his impossible situation with a girl who, for all he knows, is already stepping foot on an international cruise, walking hand in hand with a more deserving companion. He imagines the luxury ship putting even more vast distance between them.

Only, this girl that stands next to him now, with the hem of her skinny jeans growing wetter and wetter by the seconds he lets pass to think of her sacrifice here, is struggling. He knows the way her words, hesitant and tempered since their break up, means she’s hiding what it actually means for her to be in the pouring rain to call him out on his feelings for another girl.

‘I’m sorry.’ His guilt intensifies by the millionth time he realizes he never deserved someone like Patty Spivot or her undying affection for him.

‘Like I haven’t heard your ten voicemails and how many times Cisco has spoken for you.’ She adds with a small, ironic smile, ‘It did hurt, Barry. Could you have been honest from the start? Sure. But, I guess it hurt a little less because I knew about Caitlin all along. I was kind of relieved when you finally told me.’

He helps her steady the umbrella barely shielding her. ‘So, why doesn’t any this, what is supposed to make sense, your understanding or your helping me, feel right?’

She shrugs, ‘I guess, it’s all in vain because you won’t just tell her the truth. Or, she won’t tell you the truth. I don’t know. All I know is I’m soaking in the rain and you won’t make up your mind.’

He tries to retort, but she cuts him off, and he has to focus on her new, intent glare. ‘You’re a good guy. You have impeccable timing,’ she can’t help but giggle here, ‘but you are a sweet, decent guy. You let her go just because you thought it would make her happy. So, don’t stand here in this ridiculous rain and make me look like an idiot. Don’t waste what you meant to do in the first place, don’t waste what happened to us or how incredibly cool I’m being about this, and don’t waste how she obviously feels.’

‘How she–’

‘Of course she still wants you!’ She exasperates. ‘She hasn’t even left with Ronnie…she ended it, and Ronnie left.’

‘It’s true, his solo pics on the MS Saint Lucia are all over the ‘gram.’ Cisco calls from the front porch, twizzler between his teeth. ‘Go get her, and wear protection!’ He smirks as he gestures to the mask in Barry’s grasp.

‘What about your thing?’ He asks Cisco, sheepish.

‘You mom just invited me for pot roast, you’re forgiven for now. But you,’ he points a half eaten twizzler in Barry’s direction. ‘Owe me a big one.’

His phone buzzes in his pocket, and for the second time today, he takes signs from the powers that be with even more fervent belief. Especially since Felicity writes three punctuated words: Go. To. Her.

In retrospect, the bike wasn’t a very good mode of transportation to choose, as he grips the soles of shoes to the pedals below him. Every turn makes him wish he had pleaded his father for the minivan instead.

But, he was desperate to not lose his footing on the winding pedals of his bike or precious time. Another block past his neighbourhood would lead him right to Caitlin’s.

So distracted with his drenched state, the speech he’d been mulling over and the way his feet keep tempting him to slip, he almost misses the rev of an engine following close behind him.

It lurches to a stop once he does and the rapid beating in his chest suddenly shoots up to his throat. Through the windshield and as the wipers make the vision clearer, he sees Caitlin parked on the side of the road directly behind him.

Her bewildered stare does nothing to make him move. He only stares back, and pants from exhaustion. It takes Caitlin stepping out into the rain in what he assumes is the summery dress she meant to wear for balmy, tropical weather to make him move.

Jumping off his bike, he walks right up to her, opening an umbrella above them.

‘Barry?’ She seems puzzled.

‘Yeah?’

She points to his face. He attempts to rub off whatever is distracting her on his teeth and then it clicks, and he peels the Flash mask off.

‘How did you recognize me?’ He wonders, smiling because half of a hazy memory comes to answer this.

‘How many halloweens did you insist on wearing that costume?’ She asks her own self-answering question.

Silence falls abnormally quick between their soft laughter. The downpour surrounding them does little to distract from this, and it’s maddening.

Maddening because silence had never been a problem for them, it comfortably came and went in everything they did together. In fact, when it was time to study, pause from a phone conversation or eat at the diner across Cisco’s house, it gave Barry a chance to glance. It gave him time to contemplate and realize and fall for the girl before him now.

But, now, he wonders if the look she’s offering him means she hasn’t completely forgotten those feelings too.

‘You didn’t go,’ he hopes he sounds sobered by this fact and not completely mad with excitement. Though he can’t help a smile prickling to emerge on his lips.

‘Of course, I didn’t. I was headed for your place instead.’ She sighs, a watery-eyed smile spreads across her face. She clings to the umbrella he holds now, holding his grip within hers, coming closer, bumping her sneakers against his. There’s that closeness again. She doesn’t give him a chance to concentrate elsewhere, and only at the tiny freckles, the gleaming in her eyes, and how sincerely happy she looks.

‘I can explain everything, I mean it.’ He offers, cautiously.

‘You can and you will.’ She tells him matter-of-factly. ‘But, for now, is it alright if I kiss my best friend? Or, is there anything else I should know? Because I swear Barry if–’

He’s too gleeful to wait, nods and shakes his head to answer both her queries, while dipping low to meet her amused lips. The umbrella wobbles slightly as Caitlin adjust her height to tip toe to meet another deeper kiss.

Another maddening silence falls between them, though one he welcomes.

End.

[niiqhtmare]

i. overview

Species: Light Blooded Wytch

Full Name: First Name ( UTP ) du Plessis.

Birthday & Age:  June 2nd, 1997 / 22

Skill: Telekinesis & Twin Telepathy

Level: Favoured Soul

Occupation: Socialite / Fashion Influencer / Exchange Student at Astoria University.

Neighborhood: UTP or Belmonte Estate, # bed(s) # bath(s) - lives with UTP.

Hometown: South Dakota, United States

Residency Status: Newcomer, UTP weeks

Sexual Orientation: UTP

ii. personality

+ poised, labyrinthine, charming, & trait.

- vainglorious, ruthless, reticent, & poisonous.

iii.  about the species

wytches are humans with the power to affect natural or unnatural change by magical means. they connect themselves with divine forces in order to practice magic. with regular practice they can become highly skillful, dangerous if endeavors lead to malecium. there is a general curse to their existence; they tend to become addicted to supernatural forces and due to their constant use of magic, to misuse they will surely go down a path of becoming increasingly amoral towards human life as a result. the concept of wytches has existed across various cultures both primitive and advanced, throughout recorded history. their general misconception of their kind is primarily rooted in the mass carnage of the middle ages, against people, particularly women, who practiced any form of belief or healing that could be deemed anti-christian.

iv.  the past

Pearls around her neck and her hand around yours, stroking or choking, Ariadne du Plessis was capable of much more than what she let on. She consisted of wild eyes, soft lips, and a look that dared you to get closer.  It was the look of a siren; enchanting and distracting, ready to lure in the victim and into a deep grave when reality hit them a second too late. Ariadne was pink, but she had the potential to be TERRIFYING if she worked up enough effort to unearth her lethality. It slept beneath bright smiles and the highest of heels standing upon its grave. In truth, her untapped potential laid dormant in the cage beneath her chest and Ariadne fully intended to keep it that way. It bubbled up occasionally, peeking through the most in her fencing, and only mentioned if the current (often darker) company required it in rarer scenarios.

                                ‹ rose garden;                                           full of thorns.

Ariadne was beautiful. She knew it, and her parents had made a correct conjecture before she even graced the earth with her birth. It proved true, and she was given a lofty name to match. Philyra - a beautiful nymph chased after by a God. The blonde enjoyed being chased, but she wanted to be her own legend. Ariadne. It was bright, beautiful, and bubbled in the throat. Ariadne Atherton would write her own destiny along the way. As the product of a foreign affair, she was bred for them. Well-traveled, well connected, and eager to please – both herself and any potential lovers. She had plenty, but they had what she wanted - information. She liked to worm her way in and gather it piece by piece, in the heat of the moment, and then store it away. Ariadne was playing a dangerous game, sinking her teeth into both sides to stockpile secrets like weapons. A deeply shallow, vapid facade carefully hid it all away beneath a shell of pink glitter.

                                ‹ a nightmare ;                                           dressed like a daydream.

Happy is a complicated word for Ariadne, and the one that slips most easily in its spot is fun. Ariadne is fun; a bright hurricane of a girl. She is bright smiles and the exciting pop! of champagne corks. She is a bruise left on a long neck by soft lips, demurely hidden by scarves in winter. She’s a taunting pink lipstick print and daring, mischievous eyes. Ariadne is a glittering facade of many things, but true happiness is not one of them. She is happy enough, but she excels at being fun.

Anyone that signed their name as P. Graves was bound to leave an impact, but the usual choice was not a sparkling, midnight ink. The Graves are touted as a powerful family in both connections and skills, and Ariadne is no different. Her exceptional dueling prowess was encouraged from a young age. It flourished into a love of fencing, in which Ariadne is internationally ranked. She may or may not be known to enchant a suit of armor to spar with her when intoxicated.

                              ‹ it’ll leave you breathless ;                                          or with a nasty scar.

She had a creepy situation with a teacher/authority figure depending on verse when she was underage and it has left her scarred and a little guarded, and it’s a large reason why she has a glittery facade. Later stabbed him with a letter opener when she tried to extricate herself.

Here’s a small blurb about the teacher, but underage + age gap tw,

it wasn’t common knowledge how cupid’s arrow stabbed and splintered as it broke the skin and broke her heart. it wasn’t common knowledge how she clutched it to her chest while he clutched her to his. they didn’t know how much it bled when she plucked the arrow from her body, and how much it took to snap it over her knee. they didn’t know that deep splinters were still working their way to the surface, and how long she picked herself apart to find them and to find answers. she didn’t know that it was more than stolen glances in a room full of people and the thrill of first love. she hadn’t known it would lead to crying on the bathroom floor, feeling worthless as she applied another coat of lipstick for him to smear. feeling violated and alone, and how it hurt so goddamn much when he ripped her heart out when it all turned out to be a lie.

v.  the current

a few months back she was giving the finishing touches to her makeup and turned to her mother with a smile plastered on her face. her mother was shining with pride for being invited to host the charity ball of the year. couture dress, designer jewellers. groomed to be the image of perfection. obviously, she needed to ruin her happiness and share the news. she was moving to south dakota. “absurd. your place is here in france, not among them.” calliope du plessis takes a deep breath before continuing, now the mask was slipping. “I knew that boy was a bad influence, he is just like his father. should have never allowed him to...” her sentence is interrupted when the mirror breaks and various glass shreds levitate in the air. like daggers hovering next to her. silence while her daughter places red lipstick. “do never speak of my brother like that.” hell could freeze over with her detached tone. “now smile, we have a role to play. don’t want to cause a scandal would we?” she adds closing her black louis vuitton clutch. the glass shreds explode into tiny pieces, returning to sand. as she was turning around to leave, a hand moves towards her forehead. “your son says hello, dearest mother.” while she might be a light blooded wytch, she is by no means good. that´s a burden she never had to carry.

vi. connections

✗ CHURCH OF EDEN - deeply ingrained in the history of france and the church of eden, her maternal grandfather was the former high priest. the young woman was expected to follow the path that was laid before her.  many others of the family did, but she refused to be their perfect porcelain doll.a rebel at heart, she will do whatever she sees fit and may the heavens forbid who dares to stop her. never one to commit foolish acts, she will keep all the fame and fortune that the du plessis name allows. perhaps even start using the belmonte name as well when she arrives in america. in both sides of the ocean she is royalty and it´s time everyone becomes aware of that.

✗ LUCIUS BELMONTE -  her mind is a temple of depravity and insatiability shared with her twin brother. half of a soul in each one. it’s as if the universe had to split such perversity in two or affect the balance. they have no secrets, it’s practically impossible given their twin telepathy. and experience shows that when their psychic connection is severed both suffer from it.while they feed their inside demons, they also serve as an anchor to each others sanity.their insanity would be an even bigger punishment for the world. lucius is actually the voice of reason, both amoral creatures she is more impetuous.there is a secret that they keep about their skills or rather what happens when they bound them together. but that is a story for a posterior date…