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bensbuttercup · 5 years ago

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The Girl Almighty: 1.0

Joe Mazzello and Ben Hardy

Summary: When Chandler Dunne is given the opportunity to play softball for the LSU Tigers she knew it was an opportunity she couldn’t pass up. But after arriving in Louisiana she learns that giving up on playing the game which she played all her life was harder than first though. With the help of her boyfriend, Joe, and his roommate, Ben, Chandler will learn that giving up the sport she had played her entire life may not have to be reality for long. Facing challenges, heartbreak and new love, Chandler will see if she has what it’s takes to survive Death Valley alongside the boys.

Word Count: 10,108

Thank you to Claire ( @the-claire-bitch-project ) for encouraging me the past few weeks to keep trying new ideas and plots until I fell in love with one, which I managed to do with this story. She also beta read this fic and helped me through the entire editing a writing process. You should go check out some of her works also, they’re all top notch writing.

It was six fifteen on a Friday morning when Chandler’s alarm went off, Shawn Mendes’ voice filling her dorm, she had switched the song from In My Blood to Lost In Japan the night before, the switch being a welcome surprise. She knew her roommate had left already for practice herself, so she didn’t feel bad about letting the song finish playing while she sat up and stretched out her muscles. A few cracks and pops filled the dorm room while she twisted her back to either side , the sun barely peeking through the shades covering her window.

“Alexa,” she spoke, her voice still groggy, “what's the temperature right now?” She cleared her throat at the end, waiting for the device to respond.

“It is currently eighty one degrees and cloudy,” the device switched back to her morning playlist while she finished getting ready. It was six fifteen, almost an hour and a half later than she used to wake up for morning practice in high school, the adjustment wasn’t hard. It was finding the motivation to keep going to practice she considered hard.

After pulling on her sliding shorts and heart guard Chandler wiggled into her softball pants and practice shirt. She found her purple practice belt and threaded it through the loops on her pants, pulling it to the fourth hole. Opening her sock drawer she pulled out one gold and one purple sock, haphazardly pulling them up her legs, she needed to shave later, she’d have to remember.

Chandler picked up her softball bag and adjusted the straps, “Alexa send Joe a reminder to remember his team meeting at eleven thirty.”

“Sending message to Joe,” the device clicked off again while Chandler slid her feet into her slides, her cleats on top of either bat in her bag.

Leaving her air conditioned dorm in the morning had become Chandler’s biggest challenge, it already being in the high seventies or low eighties most mornings. The walk up to Skip Bertman Drive wasn’t terrible, it usually allowed for time to decompress before practice, time for Chandler to really think about what she was doing in life, why she had moved all the way to Louisiana. She started coughing when the humid and heavy air hit her lungs, the humidity mixed with the heat not being the ideal conditions for her asthma, she hoped she remembered to put her inhaler in her softball bag.

The shock of switching from training in New York for baseball to Louisiana for softball had begun to take its toll on both her body and mind. Classes had yet to start, athletes having arrived earlier than the rest of the school, but Chandler knew that once her classes did start managing her time would become even harder than it already was.

Finally reaching Tiger Park Chandler let herself in and navigated down to the locker room. She took a deep breath before pushing the door open, preparing herself for high pitch voices and rushed talking from her teammates about walking past the football team’s morning practice. She understood being able to appreciate pretty boys, but never understood the locker room talk about wanting to sleep with them. They were busy with the season starting soon, they didn’t have time to sleep around with other athletes.

Chandler offered a few waves to some of the girls she passed along with forced smiles before she set her bag down, sitting on a bench and slipping her slides off. Pulling her ankle brace out of her bag she laced it up and tied it tight before pulling her cleats on. “We’re doing fielding today girls!” Coach yelled walking into the locker room.

Thinking back to high school, she remembered how the boys would all already know what they were doing for the day, going to meet coach on the field instead of the locker room. The baseball team’s locker room was a place for fun, for the boys to get out a little bit of their pent up energy before heading to practice or a game. The boys would often chase each other around with shaving cream bottles or try and hit each other with their wife beaters, seeing who could bruise who. There were a couple of times where belts had gotten involved, some boys walking out to practice sporting large red welts.

Now all she got to listen to were the girls scrolling through different social media platforms, talking about the ‘hot�� boys they saw, or who from back home was still easy. Frankly, Chandler never saw any of that to be her business, often ignoring that type of talk when she heard about it in high school. Instead of subscribing to the typical high school drama she often hung back with her boyfriend and the remainder of the baseball team, the friends she had grown up with. She had grown up going to private school in New York, with parents that worked hard to keep her in school she was going to work hard to make sure she made them proud.

“You girls almost ready?” The head coach asked, peeking into the locker room where all the girls were finishing getting dressed for practice. Chandler quickly picked her inhaler up and of her bag, giving herself two pumps of the steroids inside to hopefully keep her airways open for the duration of practice. She traded her normal glasses in for her new LSU Oakley sunglasses and picked her bag up, following the rest of the team up to the dugout.

What had confused Chandler the most in the past two weeks was that the team didn’t stretch together before practice, her and the baseball team always took twenty minutes to stretch together, usually playing some type of memory game while they did. Their favorite had been telephone, the messages usually being incredibly distorted by the time they made it to the last person. Another favorite was playing “keep it up” with a inflated beach ball while they stretched. So far she had noticed that team bonding wasn’t as important here, they were just teammates it seemed, nothing more nothing less. “Dunne!” Chandler looked up after hearing her last name, “you played first back up north?” The head coach, Elizabeth Dieter Torina, asked her.

Chandler nodded, “yes ma’am,” she wanted to stay on the coaching staff’s good side.

“For the boys game?” Chandler inwardly groaned, ‘the boys game’. She had heard that so many times since getting to Louisiana, people calling baseball ‘the boys game’. It could just as easily be a girls game, people just weren’t open to the idea yet.

“That team was just as much mine as it was the boys,” Chandler paused, “I was captain my senior year and I earned that. With hard work.” The dugout went silent and Chandler wanted to kick herself, she was a freshman, she didn’t have the authority to be talking back to coaches.

The assistant coach, Howard Dobson, looked at Chandler and nodded, “if you played the boys game you should have a strong arm, try first today Dunne.” Chandler felt her cheeks heat up slightly while she reached into her bag to pick her glove up. She listened to the coaches give the rest of the field assignments out before she stepped out on to the freshly cut grass along the baseline, the spikes of her cleats digging into the dirt near first base.

The girls who weren’t fielding were given bases to stand on, acting as runners to aid in the girls drills. Initially, the coaches put a runner on second, one standing behind home waiting to run after the first ball was hit. Chandler squinted behind her glasses, holding up her middle and pointer finger against her leg out of instinct, runner symbols her baseball team had used.

She watched Howard throw a ball up in the air before hitting it, the ball flying straight up in her direction, “My ball!” Chandler held her left hand up in the air calling everyone off the ball. After feeling it smack into the glove on her right hand with a slight sting she quickly wrapped her fingers around the ball making sure the runner on second had stayed put.

The softball felt wrong in her hand, much larger than a baseball was in her palm, it was uncomfortable. She threw it back to Ali who stood on the pitcher's mound. After hearing the ball smack into the sophomore’s glove she winced, she didn’t have to throw as hard, right. The majority of practice went smoothly, Chandler gaining more control of her arm, learning how to better control the large yellow ball.

“Last one!” The student coach called from along the third base line. Chandler again squinted behind her sunglasses, struggling to see in the glare. She managed to keep her eyes on Howard, watching as he hit a line drive straight in her direction. With no need to call anyone else off the ball Chandler stepped back to give herself an extra second to properly line herself up with the ball. She was about to take one more step back when her right cleat dig into a soft spot on the edge of the outfield. After feeling the ball smack into her mitt Chandler lost her footing in the soft spot, her ankle twisting as she fell.

From the ground, ignoring the pain in her ankle she pulled her arm back, launching the ball towards third base where they were trying to land a double play. Once the ball had left her hand Chandler laid back in the grass, her eyes watching as clouds rolled by, white and fluffy. “Dunne?” She heard one of the coaches ask.

Sitting up again Chandler held her left thumb up, “I’m good!” She called pushing herself back up on to her feet. Ignoring the pain that shot up her leg Chandler carefully made her way to the pitcher's mound where the rest of the team was meeting. She listened to the critiques and tried to take them in, but she wanted to get to the physical therapist to get her ankle wrapped, hoping they weren’t too busy with the football team to squeeze her in.

Once she packed up and refilled her water bottle Chandler pulled her phone out of her locker, seeing a few texts from her boyfriend that she would answer once she reached the physical therapists office. Not bothering to take off her cleats, wanting the extra support on her ankle she picked up her slides and slowly climbed the stairs back outside into the heavy, humid air that had just peaked at ninety three degrees.

She probably could have asked for a ride to the office, but knew that most of the girls showered in the locker room after practice. Chandler had decided that she was going to be as little of a burden to her teammates as possible, and if it meant walking a little ways on a twisted ankle she wouldn’t complain.

Once reaching the office, Chandler greeted the student who worked at the front desk. His name was Gwilym and he was on the cross country team but was currently recovering from a stress fracture in his ankle. “Morning Chan!” He greeted her with a warm smile. “You had practice?” Chandler rolled her eyes knowing she looked like she just had practice.

Her purple practice shirt had sweat stains under her arms as well as down her back, her hair a sweaty matted mess on top of her head, dirt probably sticking to her scalp. Her pants and socks were covers in dirt as well, and she knew she smelled like sweat and sunscreen, Water Babies, the brand she had liked the best since she was little.

“Yeah,” she wiped her forehead off with the back of her hand, “had a nasty fall. Is Derek here?” Chandler was looking for the baseball team’s physical therapist, she had been going to see him since she had gotten here two weeks earlier. He knew her body better than the softball team’s physical therapist did.

Gwil clicked around on the computer in front of him before he nodded, “he’s here. He’s in the back with Maci, helping loosen up a couple of the soccer players. They have a scrimmage later.”

Chandler knew plenty about the soccer team’s schedule, Joe’s roommate was on the team. “Joe and I are going,” she responded, “you gonna come?”

“Nah,” Gwil shook his head, “I’m going to practice later, I’m trying to ease myself back in.” Chandler felt her smile grow, from her stops in and out of the office she knew Gwil was working hard to get back to running.

“Good luck!” She offered him a high five but quickly rethought the idea knowing she was covered in dirt. “I’ll stop by tomorrow to see how it goes!”

Chandler waved goodbye before slipping through the glass doors back into the physical therapist’s offices. She peeked into a couple rooms, seeing them empty she hoped that the third time would be the charm because she didn’t want to walk much further without having her ankle wrapped. In the third room she noticed Maci’s purple dyed hair, for football season, and knocked on the door. “Derek?” She asked through the cracked door.

Derek, a taller man in his early thirties, came and pulled the door open, revealing the room to Chandler. Maci was stretching one of the the soccer players out on a bed while the other was empty, the three individuals who were in the room turning to face Chandler when she walked in.

“Dunne!” A British accent said happily from the bed, Joe’s roommate holding his hand out for a fist bump.

“What’s up, Hardy?” She asked sitting on the empty bed. “Excited for later?” Ben Hardy was a freshman on the soccer team. He moved from England to play for the LSU men’s soccer team and had enjoyed it thus far.

Chandler watched Ben clench his jaw as his right leg fell back down on to the table. “Of course!” He squeezed his eyes shut when Maci pushed his left leg up. “Never been more excited!”

“What’s the issue today, Chan?” Derek asked as she laid out on the open bed.

“Right ankle,” she gritted her teeth when Derek moved to start untying her cleat, “I got it stuck in the lip between the grass and infield.” She closed her eyes and folded her thumb into her palm, squeezing it to try and distract herself from her ankle being jostled around. “They do an awful job grading the fields here.”

Chandler heard her cleat drop on the floor next to her. “I’m just gonna take your sock off too,” Derek told her as he rolled her pants up slightly to get access to the top of her sock.

“Joe know?” Chandler opened her eyes when Ben spoke again. She turned her head to see him looking at her. She quickly smiled, shaking her head against the bed.

“You know I don’t want him worrying,” Chandler folded her right arm under her head to prop it up so she could better see Ben, not caring if her sweat stains were on display.

“You, holy shit-” Ben was cut off when his hip made a sickening pop sound as Maci gave it a particularly hard push, “don’t want him worrying but you also don’t tell him what’s going on for him to even worry!” It went quiet for a couple of minutes while Maci finished stretching Ben out, him not being able to form words through the last couple of stretches.

“All good Ben, good luck tonight!” Maci excused herself to go help the football team at their practice. Once Ben had sat up he kept his eyes focused on Chandler who was looking straight up at the ceiling.

Ben reached down and pulled a piece of gum out of his bag that sat on the floor, unwrapping it and popping it in his mouth before throwing the wrapper at Chandler. “Back to you,” he swung his legs slightly as he spoke. “You realize that if you don’t tell him I will right?”

“Alright, Hardy,” she felt Derek run his fingers down her leg, his touch becoming lighter as he neared her ankle, “right there!” Chandler spoke when he pressed on a particularly sensitive spot on the inside of her ankle. “And then when I tell him I’m fine who’s the one he’s gonna believe?” Chandler knew that she had Ben there.

“His limping girlfriend?” Ben was quick to respond. Chandler pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, not knowing what to say, “exactly.”

“Why don't you go shower then I’ll wrap this up on clean skin?” Derek told Chandler, not afraid to interrupt a conversation between two kids. She nodded, sitting up and putting both of her feet down on the floor, wincing when her right ankle had a tiny bit of pressure on it.

Ben sympathetically smiled at Chandler, standing up and walking over to her. He pulled her bats out of her softball bag and set them on the floor before slinging it over his shoulder. “Let’s go, Dunne.” Ben held his arm out for her to balance on, fully intending on helping her down the hall to the showers.

Knowing she couldn’t fight Ben on the issue, and knowing she wouldn’t get far on her own, Chandler wrapped her arm around Ben’s body leaning on him for support. “I’ll tell Joe when I get back to your dorm later,” she grumbled as the pair exited the room.

Once she had showered and tied her hair into a messy knot on the back of her head Chandler wobbled back to the room she was in earlier. Derek was sitting on the table Ben was laying on earlier, scrolling through his phone, supplies that would be used to wrap her ankle sitting next to him. “You’re clean? Don’t smell awful now?”

Chandler plopped down next to Derek on the bed, “I would hope I smell better,” she noticed the inside of her ankle was starting to bruise, “and I hope this is only sprained.”

Derek moved to the rolling chair in front of Chandler and set her heel down on his leg, “I’m going to splint it for a couple days.” Chandler groaned not wanting to be that restricted for a number of days. “Oh relax,” Derek held the splint around chandlers ankle, “hold the top.” She did as she was told, holding the tops of the splint to her leg while Derek started wrapping the ace bandage around it.

“How long am I out for?” She asked, watching as Derek wrapped a layer of purple medical wrap around the ace bandage to keep it secured. “Can I have a gold stripe up top?”

“A week,” Derek shrugged as he did the gold stripe Chandler asked for, “come see me tomorrow morning again.” He pulled his gloves off and started cleaning up. “If it’s more bruised I’ll want to take x-rays.”

“X-rays are a no no, Derek,” Chandler carefully hopped off the table, landing on her left foot. “I’ll be back tomorrow though, I don’t have practice.” She stuck her bats back into the pockets on her bag before fishing out her light blue crocs, carefully slipping her right foot into the correct one. Throughout high school she had accidently worn Joe’s a number of times, the two having the same colored pair, and today she kind of wished she had the bigger size.

Once making it out to the front office again Chandler noticed that Gwil was switching shifts with the girl who had just entered behind the desk. “Chandler,” Gwil called her name, causing her to stop and turn around to face him, “you know I have one of the golf carts I use to get here and back to my dorm right?”

Chandler nodded, she had heard him talking about it the first time she entered the PT office nearly three weeks ago, “yeah-” she trailed off confused why he was asking. “I’ll give you a lift back to your dorm? Or, it’s Joe right? Your boyfriend.”

Chandler smiled at the mention of her boyfriend, “it’s Joe, yeah. Also, only if it’s not too far out of your way. We both live in Annie Boyd,” they had gotten lucky with their living situation. Joe and Chandler were both placed in suite style residence halls for their freshman year, along with most other freshmen athletes.

“Not out of my way at all,” Gwil picked his backpack up and pulled the golf cart keys out of the side pocket, “ready?”

Joe was sitting on his bed, watching an episode of The Walking Dead when he heard the lock on his and Ben’s half of the suite click open. His roomate came strolling in, his sunglasses on top of his head and a smile on his face. “You better be talking to Chandler when she gets here.”

Joe allowed the episode play for a couple more seconds before pausing it, turning to face Ben, “what are you on about, Hardy?” Joe had started calling Ben by his last name since Chandler had been around so much.

Ben started digging through his dresser trying to find the socks he needed for his scrimmage later, “ask her how her ankle feels, I ran into her while I was getting stretched out.” Joe sighed and turned back to his laptop, pressing the play button. Joe had known Chandler was a drama queen since they were five and played tee ball together, but Ben’s attitude could rival hers, putting the two together was almost too much some days.

The roommates fell into silence after that, but Ben came and sat next to Joe on his bed, watching whatever episode Joe was up to. Ben had been determined to catch his roommate up on the show before the new season came out in October. Five minutes into the next episode there was a sharp knock on the door.

“It’s probably, Chan,” Joe mumbled pausing the episode as Ben stood up to answer the door.

“Dunne! Long time no see!” Ben laughed while he closed the door behind Chandler who rolled her eyes, hobbling over to Joe’s bed and plopping down.

“What’d you do now?” Chandler had always been clumsy, so seeing her ankle wrapped up was nothing of alarm to Joe.

Chandler closed her eyes, resting her head in Joe’s lap so he could play with her hair, “I fell.” a happy sigh slipped past her lips when he started massaging her scalp with his fingers, his show now forgotten. “They did an awful job on the field, the lip to the outfield wasn’t even with the infield dirt and I tripped. Twisted my ankle funny.”

“When’d you shower?” Joe knew that Chandler refused to shower in the team locker room and he didn’t think she’d go all the way back to her dorm before going to the physical therapist.

“At the PT office. Ben helped me get down to the showers,” she offered him and air high five across the bed.

Ben poked Chalnder’s crocs, “want these off?” She nodded and opened her eyes to watch Ben pulling her left croc off before he carefully slipped her right foot out. “Hang on,” he climbed off of Joe’s bed and walked over to his own to pick up a throw pillow. He came back over to Chandler and lifted her leg up, setting it back down on the pillow.

“Thanks, Hardy.” She smiled.

Joe closed his laptop and looked down at Chandler, moving stray hands of hair out of her face, “really, Tiger?” he hummed looking down at her ankle. “You didn’t think to call me?” His eyebrows knit together.

Chandler sighed and reached up, running her thumb down the crease trying to get him to relax, “you know I don’t like worrying you,” she let her thumb swipe under his bottom lip. “Besides, I’m off for a week now. I can come watch baseball practice!” Joe sighed, knowing that Chandler wouldn’t be happy with the answer he gave her.

“Coach-” Joe was struggling to find the words, “coach said it’s closed practice, Chan. He doesn't want non-players distracting us and-”

Chander lifted a finger and cut him off, “but I’m not a non-player, there’s the catch.”

“Chandler,” this had been going on for two weeks now, “you are a non-player. You play softball not baseball.” Joe cringed even saying the words, he knew how upset it would make chandler.

“But-”

“I know,” Joe let his hand come to a rest on the top of her head, “you played for most of your life and now you’re stuck playing softball. It sucks, trust me I miss having you next to me. But c’mon, Tiger,” Joe ran his finger down Chandler’s nose. “We can still make the best of it!”

Her eyes opened again, looking up at Joe slightly watery, “you can make the best of it, Joe. You’re not the one stuck playing a sport you have no idea how to play!” Joe watched as a few tears slipped out of the corners of her eyes. “I can’t even get control of the ball! I still throw it too hard without realizing, I literally hurt people every time I throw them the ball!” He reached down and wiped the tears away from her temples. He wanted to help her, he truly did, but he didn’t know how to.

Joe looked over to Ben who was awkwardly getting his soccer bag packed, “I gotta go guys,” he spoke quietly, not wanting to make it a big deal. “I’ll see you at the scrimmage.”

Chandler offered a teary eyed, yet genuine smile to Ben, “We’ll be front row,” the door opened and closed, leaving Joe and Chandler alone.

Joe let his hand card through Chandler’s soft amber brown hair, his fingers scratching gently at her scalp again, not quite sure what to say to fix it. “Remember how hard it was in high school?” He asked her after a couple minutes. “Meeting after meeting every year to get you on the team, but we did it, and it got you here.”

“At what cost?” Chandler looked up, “to be miserable for the next four years?” Playing baseball in high school had been hard work, lots of hard work to get on the school team and then even more hard work to stay on for all four years. It was possible though, playing college baseball as a girl seemed impossible. Chandler and her coach worked for the better part of a year trying to contact college baseball coaches who would let her try out for their teams, let her clinic with their teams. Her stats were outstanding, better than most boys on the team, and she had made it to the state championship tournament with the team twice, winning once.

Chandler knew it wasn’t her record that prevented her from playing, or her stats, it was the fact that she was a girl and girls dont play Division I college baseball, girls don’t have Major League potential. “You won’t be miserable for four years, Chandler,” Joe didn’t know what else to say. “You just have to get a grip on the sport.” He knew that wasn’t the right answer when he saw Chandler’s nose scrunch up, her head shaking.

“I’m here because I’m supposed to know how to play already. I’m not supposed to be ‘getting a grip’” she put air quotes around the words, “on a sport. My scholarship was due to my ‘outstanding talent and ability’. I didn’t get it to learn,” her eyes opened looking up at Joe again.

“I know, Tiger,” Joe shifted so he was laying back on his bed. He tucked Chandler into his side, her head resting on his chest while he tried to focus on her steady breathing, his fingers continuing to gently twist and pull at the ends of her hair. “I have an idea,” Joe spoke up after a few minutes.

Chander opened her eyes and looked up at Joe, her nose close to brushing along the underside of his chin. “A classic Joseph Mazzello idea, let me hear it,” she smiled at the end knowing that teasing Joe tended to lighten the mood.

“So,” Joe sat up again, propping Chandler up on his pillows so she was comfortable. “What if I tried,” he waved his hands making sure Chandler didn’t cut him off, “just tried to see if you could come watch practices. I could tell coach about your record and skills! He’ll be impressed!”

Joe-”

“You can help with the books and then eventually you’ll-” Chandler reached a hand out and put her finger of Joe’s lips cutting his ramble off. She often described him as a puppy to their friends back home, easily excitable, incredibly loyal and also always hungry.

“You’re a freshman, Bubba,” Chandler moved her hand to rest on his knee. “As much as I love the idea, you’re still a freshman.” She saw Joe’s face drop and immediately felt guilty. “Maybe next year I can come watch practice, yeah? You’ll have a little more authority.” Joe huffed and his shoulders dropped in defeat.

Joe’s hand settled on Chandler’s left calf, gently massaging the muscle as he thought, “remember how easy it was in high school after you had authority.” Once the pair had reached senior year they were known as a ‘dynamic duo’ on and off the field. They had been playing baseball together since they were five, league, school and travel, and the summer before senior year a ‘no strings attached’ exploration of different aspects of relationships turned into the pair dating, falling in love with each other.

“I do,” Chandler laughed, “remember when Sophia Burke tried to call me easy because I was still on the team?”

Joe laughed remembering the rest of the story as well, “and then you told her ‘imagine making playoffs,’ because the softball team never goes-”

“And then I had to add the ‘oh wait imagine making the team,’ because she tried out all four years and never made it.” The pair fell into a fit of laughter.

“You Chandler Dunne, are an awful person,” Joe spoke, loving the large smile that now graced Chandler’s face. She shrugged and nodded, not denying the statement before she reached up to poke Joe’s cheek. “What do you want?” Joe mock whined at her.

Chandler tried to wrap her arms around Joe’s neck but the angle made it awkward, “a kiss!” Joe rolled his eyes and carefully moved the pillow that her leg was resting on, keeping it out of the way and allowing him plenty of room to settle his body between her legs. “I said a kiss, Mazzello!” Tatum laughed once Joe had gotten comfortable, his chin resting on her chest right above her boobs.

Joe lifted his head up to peck her lips quickly before setting his head back down on her chest, closing his eyes. “You got your kiss, wake me up when we have to leave for Ben’s scrimmage.”

If her leg wasn’t killing her right now Chandler would have rolled above joe, playfully pinning his hands above his head so she could lean down and kiss him properly. However, now she didn’t have much of a choice but to ask him to kiss her ‘for real’. “Joe,” she whined again hoping to get his attention.

He looked up at her, an eyebrow raised and a small smirk on his lips. “Yes?” He knew exactly what Chandler wanted, but he wasn’t going to cave that easy. “Is there something specific you want?” He pressed the issue further. Chandler nodded with a small ‘mmhum’, nothing more though.

“You gotta tell me what you want, Tiger.” Joe braced himself on his forearms, one arm on either side of Chandler. Their faces were even, Joe’s nose barely missing hers each time he even slightly moved his head.

Chandler closed her eyes and sighed, when they opened again Joe was met with a shade of light blue he had fallen in love with over a year ago. “Kiss me,” Chandler mumbled, she didn’t like asking for things, she never did. “Please?”

“Well,” Joe dragged the ‘l’ out much longer than he needed to, “when you ask so nicely how can I say no?” Chandler smiled as Joe leaned down, brushing his lips gently against hers a couple of times, letting her chase his lips before he pressed his lips firmly to hers. Joe felt Chandler smile into the kiss, one of her hand’s finding its way to the back of his neck, the other sliding under his shirt and up his stomach. Joe shuttered as goosebumps appeared over his skin, Chandler using her teeth to pull gently on his bottom lip.

The sensation of her fingers gently pulling at the baby hair near the nape of his neck, along with her cold hand exploring the warm skin of his stomach was almost too much to handle. He let more of his body weight rest on Chandler when he momentarily broke the kiss. Her eyes opened, pupils blown wide, hardly any of her iris visible, her lips slightly swollen from their kissing. A whine bubbled in the back of her throat, telling Joe she didn’t want him to stop.

“Ah ah ah,” Joe saw that Chandler was trying to sit up and shifted his weight so he could gently push her back into the mattress, “be good, Tiger.” Just as Joe was about to lean down to kiss her again the door opened, Ben walking back in.

He turned a bright shade of red after seeing Joe resting between Chandler’s legs, “sorry!” he practically squeaked out. “I just forgot my shin guards!” Ben grabbed the pair of purple and gold shin guards off his bed and shoved them in his bag. He had the door open and was about to leave but turned around and faced the couple again, “get em’ Tiger.” He winked once before closing the door again leaving the couple alone.

Joe’s face fell into the crook of Chandler’s neck, both laughing about what had just happened. “Well,” Chandler sighed, “at least we weren’t having sex. Right?”

“We could be,” Joe wiggled his eyebrows earning a pinch on the nipple from Chandler. “Ow!”

An hour and a half later Chandler was pulling on her ‘Tiger’s Soccer’ shirt that Ben had gotten her earlier in the week, Joe fixing his baseball cap on his head.

“What’s with the backwards thing?” She asked him through the mirror.

Joe lifted it off his head again, trying to matt down more of his hair, “it’s the style.” He sighed pulling the cap back on, hopefully for the final time. “All the boys on the team wear it like that!”

Chandler nodded, pulling her hair into a messy ponytail, tying purple and gold ribbon around the rubberband, making sure the ends were still perfectly curled. “You’re growing up,” she wiped a fake tear away, remembering how throughout the duration of high school Joe refused to wear it backwards.

Chandler was putting on a coat of mascara when Joe stepped up behind her, resting his hands on her hips, “we’re both growing up,” he placed a kiss on the side of her neck. “Need me to find those face tattoos you ordered?” He asked through the mirror. After pulling the mascara brush away from her eyes Chandler blinked a couple times before responding.

“They’re in my base-” Chandler stopped herself, “softball bag.” She nodded towards where it was on the floor, “front pocket.” Joe picked the bag up and unzipped the front pocket, sifting through the tampons that were also thrown in there to find the package of face tattoos. After finding them he opened the package and looked at the face stickers, they depicted the eye of the tiger in a fleur de lis.

Joe peeled one off and looked at it on the tip of his thumb, “these are cute.” Chandler finished putting on her mascara and laughed lightly, watching as Joe was not quite sure what to do with the sticker now that it was off the sheet.

“Here,” Chandler took it off the tip of his thumb with her left hand and gently gripped Joe’s chin between her right thumb and pointer finger, “stay still.” Carefully she placed it under the corner of his right eye, the same place she would be putting hers. “Perfect,” she leaned in and pecked his lips before pulling away, “now we’ll match.”

While Chandler stuck a matching sticker under her right eye Joe went out into the hallway to refill both of their water bottles with the filtered fountain. His was gold and hers was purple, something that his parents had gotten for the two of them before they left as part of a set. “And how do you plan on getting to the soccer field?” Joe asked looking down at her wrapped ankle.

“I can walk!” Chandler knew Joe had a pair of crutches he had brought with him, advice from his father, she just didn’t intend on using them. Joe watched to see if she was putting any weight on the ankle and Chandler confidently tried to set her foot flat on the ground, wincing when she did. “Fine. You win.” Chandler caved watching Joe walk over to the closet pulling the crutches he had once used out.

He carefully adjusted the height before handing them to her, watching as she tucked them under her arm while he shoved their water bottles and a couple of snacks into his backpack, slipping his arms through the straps. “You ready?” He asked Chandler who was making sure she had her balance on the crutches, she hadn’t used them in years.

“I’m ready if you are, Bubba.” With a large smile Joe held the door open for Chandler who crutched her way out the door and towards the elevator. Once outside Chandler realized that the humidity had died down and a cool breeze mad the small amount that was left over bearable. “What’s the temperature?” She asked Joe, who was scrolling through his phone while he walked next to her.

“Eighty-two,” he mumbled before locking his phone, sliding it into the pocket on his baseball shorts. “It’s still kind of buggy,” he slapped his arm, squashing a mosquito that had landed on it. “I’ll get the bug bands out once we get to the Stadium.” Chandler simply nodded, crutching along the path to the stadium which she had looked up earlier, she was still getting comfortable navigating campus.

It fell silent between the couple until they reached the entrance to the LSU Soccer Stadium, a small crowd gathered outside. Joe pulled his phone out of his pocket again before looking through texts for a minute, “you okay sitting with the boys?” He wanted to make sure that Chandler was okay sitting with the baseball team.

“Fine by me, just gotta find where they’re sitting,” She paused, leaning more of her weight on to the crutches rather than her right leg.

Joe nodded, reading through the text from his teammates once more before pocketing his phone again. “I think I know where I’m going.” Carefully, Joe tried to clear a path through the stadium for Chandler, to make sure she didn’t trip. Navigating their way towards the front two rows of seats Joe saw his teammates sitting together, a few others also had their girlfriends.

When an older man stopped right in front Chandler, who he clearly saw trying to maneuver the crowd on her crutches, Joe stepped in and wrapped an arm around her waist. “Excuse us,” he made sure to glare at the gray haired man when he said the words.

“Joe,” Chandler sighed once they reached the steps to get down to the front row of seats, “I’m able to move around, no reason to helicopter me.” D espite saying that, Chandler knew Joe was walking close behind her, ready to reach out and help her to stay stay if it was needed. She had broken plenty of bones and sprained plenty of appendages in her eighteen years of being alive, a good chunk of those injuries happening while she was close with Joe. Even when they were little he was overly protective of her.

She remembered breaking her arm in eighth grade, during the first day of the summer baseball season, the night before finals started. She had been sliding into third base when the third baseman from the other team stepped on her wrist, breaking both her radius and ulna. She had left the game early, tears in her eyes while her concerned teammates watched on from the dugout. Once she returned home that night from urgent care Joe was at her house with ice cream and a few extra pillows, ready to help her finish studying for their Algebra Regents the next day.

That entire summer she had showed up to every game in her jersey and a pair of jean shorts, cleats laced up tight on her feet. She couldn’t do much more than get the bats between players and keep track of the book, but she still wanted to stay close and supportive of her team. She smiled at the memory while she carefully made her way down the steep steps of the stadium, being sure not to lose her footing and really break something.

After the couple had reached the front row Joe made his way in front of Chandler, walking over to his teammates with a large smile, “Mazz!” One of the boys yelled, standing up and ‘bro-hugging” Joe, sitting back down while a few other teammates did the same.

“This the girlfriend we hear so much about?” A ginger asked pointing to Chandler who was awkwardly standing behind Joe, rocking back and forth on the crutches. At the mention of ‘the girlfriend’, Chandler couldn’t help but smile, knowing Joe talked about her to his teammates made a part of her heart fill with pride. Chandler also realized she didn’t actually know if any of the softball players had boyfriends, it hadn’t come up in locker room talk, and she wasn’t going to initiate the conversation that could give her the answer.

“Yes,” Joe sat down, patting the seat next to him, “that’s Chandler.” After she had set the crutched down, Chandler smiled and waved at Joe’s teammates and their girlfriends.

She saw a couple of the boys look between her and Joe before one with blond hair decided to speak up, “you’re the one who played baseball with him throughout high school?” He asked.

Chandler’s eyes widened as she looked to Joe who offered her a shrug, had he told the boys she was disappointed to be playing softball? She hoped not, she didn’t want to seem ungrateful, because she was playing softball for a Division I team. “That’s me,” she responded with a nod, “it was an amazing experience.”

“Finn, and Brian,” Joe leaned over to Chandler pointing to the two boys who had spoken to her so far. She took the opportunity to commit their faces to memory before nodding.

“Heard you play softball now,” Finn added to the conversation, “it’s a shame they stuck you there, sounds like you’re some real talent on the field.” Chandler raised her eyebrow, looking at Joe knowing he must have talked about her quite a bit to know the extent of her talents. The conversation about Chandler playing baseball ended there, one of the girlfriends instead asking what happened to her ankle.

Chandler looked down to her ankle before answering, “sprained it at practice today, the field wasn’t graded too well.” Satisfied with the answer the brunette turned back to her boyfriend and kept speaking to him as both soccer teams made their way out of the locker rooms. The Tigers were playing the Liberty University Eagles for their first scrimmage, the team from Virgina looking much less comfortable in the Louisiana heat than the LSU boys.

“Ben said he’s-” but Chandler cut herself off, seeing Joe talking with his teammates. She didn’t want to interrupt. Instead she turned back to the field watching as both teams took their places on the field. As Ben had informed her earlier in the day he was starting in the Center Midfield position, the coaches wanting to try some freshmen out in key positions for the first scrimmage. She didn’t know much about soccer, not caring for the sport in high school, but she would make an effort to better understand it for Ben. He was one of her friends now. However, Chandler felt oddly out of place just sitting and watching both teams run around the large soccer field. Joe had easily settled into conversation with his teammates, something she would have joined in on in high school. She wasn’t able to settle into the softball team’s dynamic, not having been in that environment her entire life until now, and she didn’t want to intrude on Joe’s relationship with his teammates. So, instead she started playing with the shoulder rest on her crutches, lifting the edge of the foam before letting it snap back down.

Eventually she found her eyes following Ben as he ran up and down the field, his muscled legs easily and gracefully carrying his boy the long distances. He made it seem effortless, the way he side shuffled along the foul line when the ball was further away from him, the way he was able to dribble the ball around the other team’s players, keeping it in his team’s possession. Every few minutes he would smooth back his sweaty curls, keeping them out of his face while he played, it was intriguing. While Chandler was covered in a layer of sweat after practice every day, drops running down her back and face, Ben seemed to be sweating a profuse amount. He must have hydrated a ton before the game with the amount of fluids his body had lost in the first quarter of the game.

While Chandler was focused on the game, she realized that Joe had yet to turn away from his conversation with his team. Although his hand rested on her knee, Chandler knew he wasn’t focused on her or the game playing out in front of her, not until the buzzer ending the first quarter went off.

“First quarter is done already?” He asked briefly looking at the scoreboard, “and we’re up by a goal! You okay?” He looked at Chandler.

She nodded, “yeah,” she said shortly. Joe sighed realizing that Chandler felt out of place, he could read her body language.

“Talk to the boys,” Joe whispered in her ear, his hand moving further up her leg, “they’ll love you.” With a small sigh she turned herself to face Joe’s teammates, a smile finding its way on to her face so she seemed interested in what was being said. Instead of speaking, Chandler listened to the conversations the boys were having, picked up on the nicknames they all already had established for each other. It was the type of relationship her team in high school had, their conversations never seemed to flatter and they fostered relationships with each other on and off the field.

With the softball team Chandler had yet to feel comfortable, had yet to be included. It was something she had missed, the family like bonds that she had formed on her old team.

Despite her efforts to stay engaged with the baseball team’s conversations, Chandler always felt a step behind and found herself becoming focused on the soccer game again. Her eyes never leaving Ben, focused on how he made soccer seem graceful, and for the first time ever she was interested in the game. She hissed when Ben went to slide tackle the ball, coming up from the ground with his sock and shorts grass stained, a large scratch obvius on his lower thigh. She would remind him later to properly clean it, make sure it healed and didn’t get infected.

Once the buzzer went off signaling the end of the scrimmage, Chandler watched both teams line up to shake hands before they parted ways, going to pack their bags up. The Tigers had won by two goals but would again face the Eagles in the regular season, when it really mattered. Chandler poked Joe, trying to get his attention to see if they could leave before the crowd of people watching the game swarmed the staircases. “Joe?” He turned away from the boys with a humm in question, asking what she wanted.

“Can we go?” She didn’t want to be rude, but she also wanted to be able to maneuver her way out of the stadium without too much worry of tripping.

Joe nodded, picking up their empty water bottles and placing them in his backpack. “We’re going to get going, gotta get the cripple here back to my dorm.” He pointed to Chandler with a playful smile. “Practice tomorrow night?”

“Four thirty!” One of the boys responded. After a number of goodbye ‘bro-hugs’ and a few handshakes Joe was walking back up the stairs behind Chandler, making sure she didn’t lose her balance and fall backwards. The air had cooled since the game started, and once outside the stadium the couple began walking along the sidewalk in a comfortable silence.

Chandler found her mind wandering back to how Ben had looked playing soccer. The muscles in his legs rippling when he ran, looking so strong, but carrying him so gracefully. The way the sweat dripped down his forehead and face, the way his fingers carded through his sweaty curls. He was truly breathtaking, and Chandler couldn’t wrap her head around why. She was in love with Joe, she was with Joe. She shouldn’t be thinking about Ben the way she was; he was her boyfriend’s roommate for fucks sake.

After a couple moments Joe moved closer to Chandler, realizing that she was uncharacteristically quiet the entire night. “You okay, Tiger?”

He carefully bumped her shoulder with his, earning a smile out of his girlfriend, “I want to go home, Joe.” she rushed out all at once. Joe felt himself stop in his tracks, she wanted- she wanted to go home? “I can’t keep doing this.” She shook her head. “I’ll go back home, do community college, I’m miserable here.”

“Chandler-” he wasn’t quite sure what to say to make her feel better. He knew that she was disappointed that she couldn’t play baseball, but he didn’t know it was an issue worth going home over. Besides, she had managed to secure a full scholarship for one of the most prestigious softball teams in the country, it wasn’t all bad.

She continued crutching down the pathway, their dorm building now in sight, “it’s fine Joe, don’t worry.” Not another word was spoken between the couple until they reached the door to Joe’s dorm. “That’s cute,” Chandler pointed to the sign on the door. It was a chalkboard name plate with a baseball and soccer ball drawn on it, Ben and Joe’s name inside either ball.

“Oh,” Joe scratched the back of his neck, “we were bored last night, decided to make something little for the door.” Ben and Joe had run out of ideas on how to organize their dorm the night before around eleven. Ben digging the sign and chalk markers out of one of his totes, the two boys sitting down to decorate it before hanging it outside their room with a command strip on the door.

Chandler rested her crutches on the wall next to Joe’s dorm before hopping over to his ben on her good foot, flopping back on the mattress and closing her eyes. “I need to rinse off in the shower fast,” she mumbled after realizing that sweat had her shirt clinging to her body. Joe knew she had never liked to sleep when sweaty, she never seemed able to get comfortable, tossing and turning until she got up to take a fast shower.

“I can help,” Joe was digging through his drawers trying to find clean boxers and baseball shorts, “Ben’s probably going to shower in the locker room and the other two boys in the suite don’t get here until next week. We have the room to ourselves.”

Joe watched Chandler untie the ribbons from her hair, shoving them into her softball bag haphazardly. She opened another pocket and pulled a pair of under armour running shorts, clean panties and a sports bra out. “If you don’t mind helping I won’t complain.”

Joe nodded and gathered three towels and his clothing walking over to Chandler and wrapping an arm around her shoulder so she could hop on one foot to the bathroom. He helped her sit down on the toilet while he started the shower, letting the water warm up. “Need help getting your clothes off?”

“Trying to get me naked?” Chandler asked with a playful smile as she pulled her shirt over her head. Joe tossed a wink over his shoulder while he started taking his own clothes off, he’d put them in the hamper after. Seeing steam rising out of the top of the shower Joe pulled the shower curtain back, reaching out for Chandler’s hand to help make sure she got in okay. The pair wobbled slightly as Chandler stuck her bad leg outside the shower, the warm water covering both of their bodies.

Joe pushed his hair out of his eyes while he picked up his body wash with his other hand. After popping the cap he rubbed some between his hands, carefully smoothing his hands down Chandler’s back, her muscles rippling under his touch. “Chandler?”

“Yeah?” She leaned her head forward while Joe’s thumbs dug into her sore muscles.

Joe allowed his thumbs to press a little harder into her shoulders, “you didn’t really mean it when you said you wanted to go home, right?” His hands had moved down to her sides where he playfully squeezed her hips, making her laugh trying to wiggle away from his touch. “Easy,” the word came out of his mouth on instinct.

“I-” Chandler paused for a moment, “no. I just wish it was different.” Joe watched as the bubbles from the body wash ran down Chandler’s body before lathering himself up. “I miss playing with the boys, the girls just aren’t as fun.” Joe laughed, knowing those had been the exact words Chandler said when they were seven and she wanted to stay playing baseball, not wanting to be moved to the softball league. “Not that they’re not nice, I’m just used to the baseball dynamic, you know?”

“You haven’t even given it much of a chance yet,” Joe leaned over to pick up the shampoo bottle. “Need your hair washed again?” When Chandler nodded Joe plopped a dollop of shampoo on top of her head before he started to massage her scalp. “You don’t really know the girls yet.”

“You’re right,” Chandler tilted her head back into the water, “stand in front of me.” Joe carefully shuffled around her so he was now the one in front. “But I don’t have a feel for the sport, and it’s like learning how to play from scratch all over again,” she held her hand out for the shampoo bottle.

Joe let out a happy sigh when he felt Chandler’s fingers start massaging his scalp, working the shampoo into his hair. “How about this-” he tilted his neck to either side letting it crack, “how about you keep making the best of the softball team, and I figure out how to get you on the baseball team?”

“Joe-” after the shampoo was washed out of his hair he turned around and pecked Chandler’s lips to keep her quiet.

“Nope,” he cut her off, “I’m going to figure this out, all you need to do is give me time.” Chandler couldn’t argue with Joe, knowing there wasn’t much of a point, he was just as stubborn as she was. She just nodded while Joe turned the shower off, reaching outside to hand her two towels he picked up. She wrapped one around her body and the other around her shoulders while Joe wrapped his around his waist.

Chandler knew it was unrealistic to think that Joe would magically find a way to get her on the baseball team, and she didn’t know how to break it to him. She didn’t want him to waste time on trying to find a nonexistent solution, she didn’t want him to think he let her down. The couple got dressed in silence, Joe drying his hair with his towel while Chandler pulled her sports bra over her head. She didn’t want to get stuck drying her hair so instead just squeezed as much water as she could out with a towel. Throughout the shower she had managed to keep her splint dry, a small accomplishment that made her night as she usually got casts and braces a little damp during showers in the past.

“Ready for bed?” Joe held his arm out again for her to balance on. Chandler leaned on to her boyfriend for support as she hopped back to the bedroom, again sitting down on Joe’s bed. She tossed him her phone to plug in next to his before sliding under the blanket on his Twin XL bed, the two of them sleeping together on the small bed proved to be a challenge but they had made it work.

Once Joe had tucked into Chandler’s side he opened his laptop, resuming the episode of The Walking Dead where he left off earlier. Chandler watched the show religiously and was already caught up, waiting for the new season to start in October, but she would gladly rewatch the series thus far with Joe.

Her head rested on his chest while his laptop sat on his thighs, the volume just loud enough for them to both hear. Forty minutes into the episode the lock on the door clicked open before the door itself swun open, light from the hallway flooding the room.

“Sorry,” Ben shut the door, dropping his soccer bag at the foot of his bed. He was no longer soaked in sweat, a tee shirt and loose soccer shorts now replacing his uniform.

“Benny!” Chandler happily called from her place on Joe’s bed, a sleepy smile on both of their faces. “You played amazing!” If the room had been light enough she would have seen the blush that spread across Ben’s face and down his neck at the compliment.

Ben sat down on his bed, taking his sneakers off, “I didn’t score any goals.” Chandler rolled her eyes, hating that athletes tended to measure their success on how many goals they scored or how many runs they batted in. Being part of a team was so much more than earning points. “But uhh-” he trailed off.

“But?” Joe asked.

“Coach is going to start me,” Chandler didn’t need to see Ben’s face to know he was smiling. He would be starting the regular season as a freshman in an anchor position, it was quite the accomplishment.

Chandler sat up, looking in Ben’s direction, “that’s amazing!” She would have gotten up and hugged him if her leg wasn’t in terrible shape. After watching Ben plug in his phone, Joe patted the end of the bed.

“Want to come watch the rest of this episode?” Even though Ben was just as caught up as Chandler he nodded, climbing on to the end of Joe’s bed, settling Chandler’s legs over his lap. He picked up Joe’s laptop and adjusted it on the bed so all three could properly see.

It fell into silence, Joe’s fingers carding though Chandler’s still damp hand while Ben’s hands rested over the tops of her legs. She had been up hours earlier than both boys for practice, and crutching around campus took a lot more energy out of her than she had remembered from the past. As Ben started the next episode she found her eyes closing, comforted by the warmth radiating off of the two boys surrounding her. Her worries were soothed as she focused on the gentle touches both were providing her, the thought of returning home suddenly seeming less appealing than she had originally thought.

Tag list:

@the-claire-bitch-project

#joe mazzello #joe mazzello imagine #ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #anna writes #ben hardy fan fiction #joe mazzello fan fiction #soccer player!ben #baseball player! joe #ben hardy x oc #joe mazzello x oc #ben hardy x oc x joe mazzello

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monstersarealwayshungryrpg-blog · 7 years ago

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Congratulations Imogen! You have been accepted as Strength (FC: Caitriona Balfe)

Wow - this bio was incredibly detailed and amazing! You’ve obviously put a lot of thought into Althea’s past, and we absolutely love that. We’re looking forward to seeing how she fits into the Ring as something of an outsider. Make sure to follow the checklist and send us your account within 48 hours! WELCOME TO THE ARCANA RING, IMOGEN. WE HOPE YOU ENJOY YOUR STAY.

Out Of Character Information

Name: Imogen

Pronouns: She & Her

Age: Twenty-Two Years

In Character Information

Skeleton Applying for: Strength

Faceclaim: Caitriona Balfe, Alexa Davalos or Ruth Wilson

Character’s Full Name: Althea Louise Sullivan

Age: Thirty-Six Years

Gender and Sexuality: Cisgender female ( she & her pronouns ) & Grey-romantic/Bisexual

Character Bio:

PAST & PRESENT: “Be not afraid of greatness. Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and others have greatness thrust upon them.” / “The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars / But in ourselves, that we are underlings.”

( TW: Sexual Abuse & Infant Death )

i. Althea came into this world like most children did; all doe-eyed and soft, untouched by the harsh currents life had to offer and guarded by innocence and nativity. She had two older brothers and one younger sister, Alister “Ailbe”, Aidan and Aileen. Alibe was the jock of the family, trying just about every sport their quaint high school had to offer. He finally settled on rugby and swimming, being captain of both teams. His apparent athleticism and god-like physique left his parents extremely proud, later on getting a full scholarship to university. Aidan was the so called “bad boy” of the family, usually ending up in the principal’s office, sporting a black eye. His temper was one that matched a raging fire and control was a four letter word. Aileen, oh sweet Aileen, the baby of the family was the self-proclaimed princess of the four and rising star. She was in every play, musical and showcase the school put on. Her talents were a thing of beauty, lively and passionate, that often landed her the title roles in most productions. So being the middle child and lacking a title meant she was often forgotten and blended into the background easily. Althea didn’t mind though, she was a quiet, well-behaved child that her parents didn’t have to worry about; which they were silently grateful for. Whilst her siblings were out doing their extracurricular activities, she found solace in between the pages of books. But not the fairy tales most little girls dreamed of. No, she got ahold of her mother’s history books and nestled in between sturdy oak branches to try and make sense of it all. Growing up, she was was neither a tomboy or girly-girl. Her brothers tried to teach her how to fight, but she didn’t need to “punch like a man” to win a battle. She had her wits about her and could talk circles around almost everyone. She learned very quickly the effect her words had on people and could convince her brothers who were, plainly put, simple-minded, of anything. Though she would rather play the part of knight in shining armor than damsel in distress for she didn’t mind getting her hands dirty. She wanted to play a character with a strong moral background, usually annoying her brothers with the logistics of it all. The young lass adored nature, feeling a certain serenity when she was hidden among the greenery. And Ireland housed many rolling foothills and open fields for the children to play in. The siblings spent hours playing make believe in their own little corner of the world. The sky closely resembled a painting, that by Monet and the mist that loomed around the plains curated the perfect atmosphere for their games.

ii. Her father, Thomas Sullivan was a middle-class firefighter who barely finished high school because of his temperamental issues. Because of this issue, he was left with a certain cynicism towards the wealthy and educated, sticking his tongue out at such class of people. Her mother, however, graduated from a small private liberal-arts university in England with a degree in nursing. The family quickly settled down in Ireland, where both sides of the couple were originally from and began working. Yes, Althea was Irish through and through, though her first name suggested otherwise. Althea was named after her great-grandmother, a bitter woman who hated animals and children. Nonetheless, the name was of Greek origins and meant “to heal”. The name also had a variety of spellings, one being Althaia, which was the name of a marshmallow plant that was said to have healing powers. Though at the time of naming their first daughter, they did not know that she would go on to later prove herself worthy of such a name. When she was six, her mother enrolled her in piano lessons and the girl picked up on the instrument almost instantly. It was no surprise, for she had unusually steady hands, smoothly did they dance across the ivory keys; unlike most kids that fidgeted to no end, Althea made it clear that she was not like most kids. Growing up, nothing “spectacular” happened to Althea, although she breezed through primary school – skipping second grade all together. She piqued an interest in her professor’s academic radar, doing rather well in all fields of study. When she got to high school, she was deemed “the smart one”, the one that her siblings usually copied their homework off of, despite being in different grades. She was the nerd, the polymath but most importantly the loser. She was tall, pale and awkward, having little to no figure and sullen, grey eyes. She didn’t take after any of her mother’s traits, lovely Mary with freckles abound, long flaming hair and piercing green eyes. Her siblings used to joke she was adopted and for a second, Althea almost believed it. She felt different, lost – lonely even. But her mother always had a soft spot for her first born daughter and filled her with all the nurture and support a high school girl needed. Her confidence was dwindling, but her mother’s wise words, “always look to the future and find the lightness in your heart,” comforted her. And as she got older, Aileen started coming to Althea for advice and to the girls surprise, she knew a lot more than she led on. She was wise beyond her years, having an opinion on most everything and always willing to lend a helping hand. Aileen was popular amongst the masses at their school, for she had an outgoing, adventurous spirit that attracted most. So Althea lived vicariously, watching her sister grow into an ardent soul. And she was happy to take on the role of the older sister that knew everything and could be consulted on just about any matter. The pair weren’t sure where Althea got the information since no textbook could teach one how to talk about to boys, but the younger of the two followed the advice willingly and took off from there. Having someone to guide gave Althea a purpose, a sense of belonging in a sea that didn’t seem to need her.

iii. When she graduated high school with blazing colors and two years earlier than most, she racked up a pretty good resume already. She was debate team captain, class president and lastly, valedictorian. When she was a sophomore there were rumors that she was already Oxford bound; the first of her kind. Going to the prestigious university and graced with a full scholarship, Althea wasn’t exactly sure what she wanted to study, but she took as many general education courses time could afford. She had a thirst for knowledge, something that didn’t quite quench back in her small Irish town. On paper, she looked fine, perfect even – but there were about a thousand kids out there with the same accomplishments as her. That was, until she found medicine. Althea always wanted to help people, she just wasn’t sure how. Like most children, a ray of professions crossed her mind, but for some reason, doctor never did. Sure it was an old pipe dream, but she had made it this far, so why not at least try? And the moment, no the second she stepped into that lecture hall, she knew that’s all she wanted to do. It was as if a hero was going out to proclaim their title and find their glory. A light shown upon the young university student and showed her the way of natural stability. This was her instinct, her passion – her drive and Althea was nothing, if not ambitious. She was everything good and wholesome in a tremulous line of work, every syllable in the words fitting her like a dress, for she knew with hard work, she would get by. She didn’t need to be ruthless and cunning to get ahead, she didn’t need anything but her senses.

iv. Graduating university in three years, Althea went onto medical school, albeit her age. And because she was younger than most, she once again felt left out. It wasn’t until her second year of medical school people began noticing her. It wasn’t everyone, she certainly wasn’t the girl to turn heads as soon as she walked into the room; but she wasn’t that dangly, lonesome girl waiting to be asked to dance either. The first person to truly notice her, was the wrong kind of attention, to say the least. It was from her professor, a man ten years her senior and unaware of the girl’s actual age. It started as a casual comment after class, about her work or how nice she looked. And she took the compliments as a passing thought. The man was married, though she had heard rumors of him seducing young medical students and taking them as mistresses. But she disregarded these whisperings and began talking with him more and more. She stayed after class and they chatted for hours and perhaps a slight flirtation was arising. But Althea didn’t mean to cast any signals other than a strictly professional relationship. She was glad that someone was finally paying attention to her, even if she was blind to the fact of why he was showing interest in the first place. But one day, he took things a little too far and so did his hand, steadily creeping up her thigh. Althea was acutely aware that what he was doing was wrong, so she immediately stopped it; horrified that she didn’t see his true intentions. That it had to go this far for her to finally stop it because perhaps, somewhere deep down inside, she did know what was happening. And as long as nothing serious progressed between them, a flirtation that kept him at bay didn’t hurt. Dropping out of his class set the girl back a little in her studies and her confidence was once again, declining into a vast oblivion, but nonetheless, she persisted. After medical school, she graduated with high honors, choosing her professional life over her personal. She wasn’t the type to get drunk at parties anyway, afraid of something she didn’t understand. Feelings. She had never been in love, or even had a steady boyfriend or girlfriend. She knew sexuality was a spectrum and she fell somewhere on it, but a chance to explore her options were non-existent. Bringing someone into her life, when she wasn’t ready to commit, or divulge any sort of affectionate emotions would make both parties suffer. She was then accepted into Massachusetts General Hospital, one of the best medical residency programs in America. So she packed her bags and headed for America. Residency was exactly like Grey’s Anatomy, sans the making out with hot doctors in elevators. Plus medicine was less glamorous than television made it out to be. Of course Althea knew all this, but her coworkers did not. Most of them were affluent kids that got here through connections, not work. That didn’t mean they weren’t dedicated to their work, they just sought after the money and gratitude that filled one’s ego. They were in it for the wrong reasons. But the program only accepted four residents, due to the many years of training it took to become a neurosurgeon. Not that it really mattered, she wasn’t there to make lifelong friends. Yes it would help to have some semblance of companionship, someone to help her study, but her main focus was on her work. But her peers were quickly disappointed when they realized they would not be doing tricky surgeries or diagnosing rare diseases. The reality of the matter was, they were on seventy-two hour shifts, doing rounds of patients who were ungrateful and unwilling. Residency was hard but despite her Irish roots, she didn’t inherit her family’s bad temper. She was practical, level-headed and always the face of elegance and grace whilst dealing with difficult patients. While most doctors almost bit their heads off, Althea understood that it was frustrating, waiting for recovery and not having all the answers.

v. It wasn’t until her second year when she got her chance to shine. There was a teenager, Dalton Wu who came into the hospital with a sharp pain in his side. Althea was the resident in charge of her case, but her superior’s were convinced it was nothing; they claimed they had better things to take care of, patients that were in dire need of their attention. “Check him out, sign his papers and send him out,” were her instructions. There was really nothing they could do in his case, but once Dalton continued to describe his symptoms, it sounded vaguely familiar. After that, Althea begged her attendant to give her twelve hours to come up with a better explanation for Dalton’s pain. And because she wasn’t an obnoxious kiss ass like most of the others, he obliged. Pouring over charts, medical history and every textbook the library had to offer, Althea finally found the answer she had been looking for. It turned out the boy had a rare type of cancer that hadn’t been seen since the 19th century. If it had been caught later, he surely would be untreatable and died instantly. But because of Althea and her efforts to diagnose him correctly, he was assured proper treatment and a full recovery. After that, it was smooth sailing for the young resident. Most of her fellow interns started to take notice of the girl behind the curtain. The one that seemed to have all the answers, but never really spoke up. They sat with her at lunch, helped her study and took her shifts when need be. They actually became friends, almost like a team which was something she always longed for. People around the hospital came to her with their questions and Althea felt needed again; much like her adolescent years with Aileen. Things were going good and Althea soon began to peer out of her shell. She was tired of waiting on the sidelines, watching the world go by. She was restless for the opportunities to come her way so she could grab onto them and never let go. But the young Irish Woman quickly realized that she couldn’t just wait patiently anymore; that she had to go out and go after what she wanted and that was exactly what she was going to do.

x. But her last year of residency, a five-year-old little girl by the name of Sarah Quentin – that reminded Althea a lot of her baby sister, came into the emergency room, complaining of a headache. Working with the Chief of Staff, a famed neurosurgeon who hand picked the intern, Althea studied the chart and realized the girl had a brain tumor pressing to her skull. It threatened to crack through the bone and lead the girl to an early grave if they didn’t do anything. Her attendant explained that they could operate, but there were no guarantees. Althea waited, anticipating dripping in form of perspiration as she waited for the news. The surgeon in charge then asked the young doctor to come in for a consultation against his better judgment and Althea, high off the prospects of another win, let something slip. And something went wrong, to be honest, that whole night seemed like a blur to Althea; a blur of shudder inducing apprehension that could only be characterized as an anxiety attack. And she knew it was mostly her fault, no matter how many excuses the hospital made. The whole series of events ended the little girl’s life and her parents, wealthy business tycoons, threatened to sue. The doctors, the hospital, someone must pay for their loss and it was not an easy price. That was the toughest thing about the job, staring death in the face, almost like staring into the abyss. It wasn’t darkness, no darkness was vaguely tangible. One could feel their own hand moving in the darkness, but the abyss, the void was inevitable and quickly threatened to consume the girl. Engulf her until there was nothing left. As the trials went on, court hearings began dragging out and Althea saw the look of sullen gray in the parent’s eyes. The hurt and loss they felt and Althea would give anything to understand their pain. She had such intense compassion she felt for her patients, the pain surely left her hollow. But they weren’t in it for the money, they just wanted their little girl back, so they took out their hurt the only way they knew how. After a long case, the parents decided to withdraw their suit, but only because Althea went against her boss’ instructions once again. She made contact with the couple and tried to make amends and to her surprise, they understood. Their conflicting emotions would always be present, but they decided to move on with their lives instead of growing bitter by the experience. In her whole residency, she was lucky enough not to lose a patient. But this, this hurt the most. Despite the fact that she didn’t get in any legal troubles, she on was probation at work and her confidence in her own abilities soon deteriorated. After that, Althea reverted back to her recluse ways and when her studies were up, she got out of Boston. Death, when thought about long enough left everyone trembling and doctors were no different. People looked to doctors to have all the answers, a beacon of hope in a world faced with uncertainty. Althea was governed by facts, not fiction because that was the only way she knew how to explain an uncertain future. She felt safe, knowing she could fall back on figures and numbers. But these weren’t buildings, or cars, or even companies. These were people.

xi. After her residency, she could be admitted to just about any hospital she wanted to work at, but she came back to the United Kingdom. When she moved back to the U.K, she spent a long time, trying to get to know the girl inside the frame. She realized that there were two types of people, who you were and who you were meant to be. She had spent so long hiding behind her job and pretending she was actually okay with the prospect of ending up alone. But in reality, no one wanted to be alone, no matter how much they blinded themselves to societal norms. The surgeon became more confident in her stride, but it was when she was staring at the bottom of a whiskey bottle when she noticed her fatal flaw. There was a tremor in her hand, one that threatened to end her career before it even started. No, this couldn’t be, not after everything, her body could not, would not fail her. She practiced for hours, days, weeks and then months to perfect it because no one in their right mind would let the woman operate if they knew she was suffering from such a thing. It accompanied the night terrors that kept her awake at night, afraid of her own mind. Something she held in such high regard, something that was her most valuable asset, become her worst enemy. After her stint at Boston General, her mortality rate was the lowest the hospital had ever seen and she worked hard to keep it that way. As she was praised by peers and superiors alike, she started to feel a god-complex arising, people she admired heavily complimenting her steady hands, the hands God had sent to heal the world. She was fresh out of school, her education having stripped sixteen years of her life and by that time, she was thirty-four. At this age, most women were settling down with husbands, kids and a house in the suburbs. But Althea was excited at the prospects of starting her professional career. Her schooling was her baby and she raised it well. Taking the holidays off, Althea took a trip around Europe, seeing sights she dreamed off as a poor college student. The last stop was Paris, the city of love. She wasn’t expecting anything to come out of it but she saw the way most couples looked at the sorrowful girl. Almost as if they pitied her for being alone. But there, she met her. Love was never something Althea thought about, perhaps just a crossing thought whilst she watched the latest romantic comedy. But she always told herself she didn’t have time, or that no one could truly think of her in that way. Self-doubt had crept into her mind, soaking into her skin and leaving her half. She couldn’t read or study love in a textbook, therefore could not understand the workings behind it. But feelings looked good on Althea and she felt almost new, reborn. She had always been a very practical person and residency taught doctors to lead with facts, not emotions. But she was no longer a shy girl, she was a woman, full of coy meekness. This love, or what she construed as love opened her eyes to a completely different world. This world was The Arcane Ring. It had a familiar sense of belonging and Althea still classified herself as eternal optimism, that anything was possible. The Ring brought out a more, colorful side to her, one she didn’t even know existed. The group challenged her in all the right ways, pulling out a side she wished she had been all along. But love was a ruthless game and the rules were lost on her and in the end, she looked like a sore loser. She wanted the girl, longed for her lover, but it was not meant to be. The woman was forced to move on, for she knew better than she lives in the past, but she felt almost trapped. Almost as if she couldn’t move forward, nor backward. Despite the heartbreak, the woman found herself drawn to the city and all it had to offer. It was a promise that seemed too good to be true, yet she still found herself in search of a loft and a job.

PERSONALITY: “To thine own self be true, and it must follow, as the night the day, thou canst not then be false to any man.”

(+): Ambitious, Ardent, Compassionate, Intelligent, Levelheaded, Practical, Resourceful

(-): Elusive, Obsessive, Reticent, Sullen, Timid

i. Althea is a plethora of paradoxes, like most human beings, she is flawed and shattered after years of all life throwing all it’s had to offer her. She is a woman of science, preferring facts to anything else making her very practical and levelheaded. She is very opinionated, but willing to listen and learn from others. She is also fiercely independent, but knows the value of working in a team. The doctor is not one to make reckless decisions, but she truly believes in trial and error. Without mistakes, one can not learn but she is very intolerant to the same mistake repeated. She is a cool, calm and collected on the outside, but she feels the darkness creeping in and she doesn’t know how much longer she can go without letting it seep through the cracks.

Extra: N/A

Anything Else: *DISCLAIMER that I am terrible at writing biographies so I apologize in advance if this like the worst thing you’ve ever read. I probably rewrote this at least ten times and this is what I came up with, what a hack. ( I WROTE TOO MUCH I’M SORRY??? )

#accepted

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