#* narrative. mattie oliveira.

[someotherdog]

character: mattie open: m/f/nb plot: mattie is a socialite-in-waiting, a pauper trying to turn princess. she’s been lying to all her rich friends that she’s rich too, only for your muse to randomly come into the diner she works at days before and discover she’s nothing more than a poor waitress. it’s up to you on what they do with that information! as for now, mattie’s groveling.

okay. shit. two days ago, she’d innocently being working the night shift, when her world suddenly shattered. well, the fake world she crafted for herself had shattered. no one in the city of new york knew that mattie was lying about everything: her family, where she came from, the fact that she was nearly two hundred thousand dollars in credit card debt. as far as her rich friends knew, she fit right in with them, a hotel heiress from brazil that never had to work for a thing in her life. mattie feared her stomach was going to be permanently clenched from anxiety, waiting for all her friends to drop her. when they would figure out mattie was technically stealing from them, letting them pay for all the parties and expensive trips and clothes, just about everything. how she’d use take their credit cards because she knew they had no limit and her friends wouldn’t ever see the statements anyways. it was all working so perfectly—until that one damn shift. now the person in front of her held her fate and future in manhattan in their hands, and matilde doubted they’d just brush it off. “please… i know you don’t owe me anything, but i’m begging you. please. do not tell anyone about the other day. i’ll do anything you want, just don’t let the others know!”

[tragedienes]

character: mattie open: m/f/nb plot: mattie is a socialite-in-waiting, a pauper trying to turn princess. she’s been lying to all her rich friends that she’s rich too, only for your muse to randomly come into the diner she works at days before and discover she’s nothing more than a poor waitress. it’s up to you on what they do with that information! as for now, mattie’s groveling.

okay. shit. two days ago, she’d innocently being working the night shift, when her world suddenly shattered. well, the fake world she crafted for herself had shattered. no one in the city of new york knew that mattie was lying about everything: her family, where she came from, the fact that she was nearly two hundred thousand dollars in credit card debt. as far as her rich friends knew, she fit right in with them, a hotel heiress from brazil that never had to work for a thing in her life. mattie feared her stomach was going to be permanently clenched from anxiety, waiting for all her friends to drop her. when they would figure out mattie was technically stealing from them, letting them pay for all the parties and expensive trips and clothes, just about everything. how she’d use take their credit cards because she knew they had no limit and her friends wouldn’t ever see the statements anyways. it was all working so perfectly—until that one damn shift. now the person in front of her held her fate and future in manhattan in their hands, and matilde doubted they’d just brush it off. “please... i know you don’t owe me anything, but i’m begging you. please. do not tell anyone about the other day. i’ll do anything you want, just don’t let the others know!”

[tragedienes-archive]

character tag drop, m to v.

mary ester mctavish › introspection. / mary ester mctavish › narrative. / mary ester mctavish › visage. mattie oliveira › introspection. / mattie oliveira › narrative. / mattie oliveira › visage. meganne choi › introspection. / meganne choi › narrative. / meganne choi › visage. moritz gerhardt › introspection. / moritz gerhardt › narrative. / moritz gerhardt › visage. océane desmaison › introspection. / océane desmaison › narrative. / océane desmaison › visage. summer sung › introspection. / summer sung › narrative. / summer sung › visage. taher eftekhari › introspection. / taher eftekhari › narrative. / taher eftekhari › visage. thomas abendroth › introspection. / thomas abendroth › narrative. / thomas abendroth › visage. vasiliy burlakov › introspection. / vasiliy burlakov › narrative. / vasiliy burlakov › visage. vikram bhakta › introspection. / vikram bhakta › narrative. / vikram bhakta › visage.

[someotherdog]

@thewolfruns / mattie & your choice of muse! / a few months after the outbreak, mattie is part of a camp that's settled inside a costo. she regularly goes out to recruit people to join their camp kind of like jesus from the walking dead lol, anyway oops the person she's trying to recruit is someone she conned and stole from years before.

there was sweat in her eyes. luckily, the blood stopped just above her forehead, but the dirt was all over. mattie had never felt so dirty in her life—physically, at least. her life before was crawling through the mud and the muck, figuratively, trying to claw her way from the bottom all the way to the top. usually that included stealing, racking up credit card debt on a rich friend’s credit card because their parents who paid off the card wouldn’t notice for at least two months. it included telling people she was the heiress of exclusive resorts in brazil that of course they wouldn’t have heard of, because it was just sooo fancy and private. it included fucking anyone and everyone over in her quest to be wealthy.

that was all over now. there were no more high society parties in manhattan or shitty serving jobs in queens. there were no more shopping sprees where oops! mattie totally forgot her wallet, but she’d pay next time she promised, or restaurants with menus that had such exotic sounding dishes on there but the serving portion was barely more than two ounces and god damn, didn’t these people just want a burger sometimes? it was all gone. everyone screwed everyone over. for supplies, or a place to sleep at night. sometimes people would protect their stashes with their lives and lost them for that very reason. sometimes survivors would band together in little camps, like mattie did. the group run out of a costco was probably the best camp in the area and everyone wanted to join it. mattie had the private regret that she was finally part of the upper crust and it was after the end of the world. careful what you wish for, or whatever.

they let new survivors in on a trial basis. most of the time, they easily blended into the fold, mostly because they were trying to be on their best behavior. they wanted to stay a part of the camp. they had to be invited in, though. mattie was part of the team that made their way out into the world and scouted for survivors. most of the time, they extended an invitation and someone would accept it without hesitation because they just wanted to be safe. on that particular sunday, mattie and her scouting partner came across another living, breathing human. she was about to give the usual spiel when she suddenly realized something.

she knew this stranger.

this stranger knew her.

because mattie had stolen from them years ago.

“shit.”

[tragedienes]

@fiinalgiirls​ / mattie & your choice! / apocalypse? maybe? idk.

matilde stopped suddenly, turning to them with a vague incredulous expression, “wait. you aren’t trying to lure me to an isolated corner to murder me, are you?”

[tragedienes]

@goldenhovr / in reply to this, because i forgot i made the original post in legacy and i reblogged the reply in beta. tumblr makes me want to smash my hand in car door.

truthfully, it had all been so exhausting. keeping up her façade was more of a full time job than the near forty hours she worked at the diner. she spent so much of her time looking over her shoulder, both for the police and for the creditors. maybe people like chanelle would think of it as some elaborate ruse, which it was, but mattie thought of it as survival. of course she wanted the money, the clothes, the stable living conditions, but above all, she just wanted to live comfortably. her parents were poor, not the hoteliers she had claimed, and her childhood in poverty was all the more reason she wanted to have wealth in adulthood. other people might've tried to work hard at their career to get there, but mattie wanted to take a shortcut. this was her career, this was how she was going to get rich... if chanelle didn't sell her out. which, apparently, she didn't want to. letting out the breath she had been holding, mattie felt like she was going to deflate right then and there. "well... thank you." though she wasn't calling her an upper east side bitch, mattie still felt offense. "that's easy for you to say. you already have money, you have a choice on whether or not you'd hang out with 'some upper west side bitches'. i don't." though chanelle was right, they were upper west side bitches, but in her mind, mattie thought of them more as coworkers than her best friends. (maybe she should've thought of them as her targets, but that felt too... extreme, too mean.) she shrugged at her next question. "i don't know. everything, probably. my name is my name, at least." sometimes she could fool herself, forget it was all a con. chanelle catching her looking poor was the shock she needed to remember the truth: she was a liar, she was a thief. she was, by all accounts, a criminal. "what do you want to know in specifics? the least i can do is be truthful now, i guess, since you're not gonna tell... right?"

[someotherdog]

♚ : for a confessing voicemail

♚ : she didn't want to admit it. the very thought of telling the truth made her throat want to close up. mattie protected her secret like a mother protected her child. no one could know that she was the pauper instead of the princess, which made her occupation situation perilous. she told everyone that she was the daughter of a hotelier in brazil, they owned exclusive and elegant resorts that only the richest of the rich got to enjoy, so that was why people in the states never heard of them. she told everyone that instead of the truth, that she had grown up poor and came to america for that american dream, only to end up a waitress in a boxcar diner. it didn't amount to much in the paycheck department and she had been living on credit that was sure to swallow her whole some day. if her secret hadn't gotten out first. mattie thought she had been so careful, but her socialite friends somehow stumbled into the diner she worked at and realized that it had all be lies. she had to get ahead of the gossip, so she called the person that mattered the most to her. the person she lied to the most. either luckily or unluckily, they didn't answer.

"hi. it's mattie. that's my actual name, just in case you were wondering. everything else has been a lie, though. i hate having to even say it. i'm not the paris hilton of south america. i'm not who you thought i was. i'm barely anything. i'm a server because i don't have any other skills and it can be good money every once in a while. i've run this con in two other cities, got found out both times so i don't know why i thought it would work here. i'm... i'm a fuck up, alright? i just wanted people to like me. i just wanted you to like me. i don't... i don't know what else to say, or if you'll ever talk to me again. you probably hate me now so i won't reach out to you again, but call me, i guess. if you want to know anything else. alright. goodbye."

[someotherdog]

mo. nl. pv. rk. sr. ss.

[tragedienes]

tag drop. l to p.

* introspection. lauren crone. / * narrative. lauren crone. / * visage. lauren crone. / * introspection. lilianne choi. / * narrative. lilianne choi. / * visage. lilianne choi. / * introspection. lisa liddell. / * narrative. lisa liddell. / * visage. lisa liddell. / * introspection. luther jung. / * narrative. luther jung. / * visage. luther jung. / * introspection. mary esther mctavish. / * narrative. mary esther mctavish. / * visage. mary esther mctavish. / * introspection. mattie oliveira. / * narrative. mattie oliveira. / * visage. mattie oliveira. / * introspection. mokhtar abdelsalam. / * narrative. mokhtar abdelsalam. / * visage. mokhtar abdelsalam. / * introspection. noël lunaire. / * narrative. noël lunaire. / * visage. noël lunaire. / * introspection. polly volkova. / * narrative. polly volkova. / * visage. polly volkova.