ribbons are pretty okay

Blue Roses (AU) (@ask-titanthunder)

Beep beep beep beep beep beep…

On a daily basis, this was the sound Vanellope’s mornings began with. The sixteen year old hated the obnoxious alarm clock, but what could she do about it? It wasn’t as if she had the money to buy a new one, being an unemployed teen and having no real skills to speak of, and she couldn’t go asking around for a new one either. So, she had accepted it like everything else in her life. The sound would beckon her out of sleep like the grating of nails on a black board, and she’d drag herself out of bed to begin her morning.

The first order of business, at least after brushing her teeth and taking care of any hygiene needs, was getting an outfit together for the fresh day of school. Vanellope never had cared about her appearance that much, though, so usually this was over and done with fairly quickly. This particular day, she slapped on her favorite green tee-shirt, a pair of partially torn blue jeans and black boots that looked as though they had seen better days. Her long black hair was given a quick brush and tied off into a ponytail with a red ribbon. Her morning looked to be pretty okay for once, except for one thing.


Vanellope’s weak legs gave way beneath her as she turned and started to head for her bedroom door. She cursed out loud and glared down at the appendages that had caused her problem. Ever since she was little, this had been a part of her life and had given her grief. Vanellope tried to roll with it, tried to brush it off as nothing, but everywhere she went it came up. So, with a sigh, she forced herself to her feet again. Her legs always felt so stiff after this occurred, but she never complained. It would do her no good to complain about it, anyway.

Once she prepared herself for the day, Vanellope headed down the hall and into the kitchen of her admittedly meager home. It suited the needs of herself and her mother, though, and so she didn’t complain. A casual ‘mornin’ was exchanged between mother and daughter as Vanellope entered the kitchen to see said mother engrossed in reading the newspaper. As always, Vanellope made no effort to hold a conversation with her. Instead, she just fixed herself a piece of toast, spread some butter on it, and munched on it as she slung her backpack over her shoulder and started for the door.

Once outside, Vanellope would wait for the school bus. If she was lucky, she’d make it to the bus stop without having her legs collapse beneath her. Today was one of those lucky days, it seemed, because Vanellope had a decent time of waiting for the bus. Once it arrived, though, she boarded without a word and shuffled to the back of the bus. All eyes were on her, as always, and hushed sniggering and exchanges of cruel words followed. They thought Vanellope couldn’t hear them; she could.

It was a combination of her weak legs and her status as the quiet, weird kid that made Vanellope an easy target for bullies. The mean girls in particular would pick on her because, as they said, she had no style and no grace. Vanellope didn’t care about either of those things, and one would think that she wouldn’t care about what the other kids thought of her, but the truth was that she cared a lot. She’d been picked on ever since she could remember, and having it happen every day now that she was a teenager did nothing to help her already low self esteem. Not that she’d say anything about it out loud, though.

The rest of the day would generally carry on as normal. She’d go from class to class, sitting in the back and only speaking when called on, and she prayed every time she had to go to a different classroom that her legs wouldn’t give out. Only about fifty percent of the time were her prayers answered, and some of the time she was unfortunate enough to have this happen when she was in plain view. In either case, it was never a fun experience.

Classes led into lunch, and every day she would end up eating alone. Vanellope claimed to like it this way. She’d pull her brown paper bag out from her backpack, retrieve her meager sandwich and chips, and just eat in silence. However, she could always feel that some popular kid was staring at her and potentially making fun of her. When this happened, Vanellope would duck her head down and just continue eating in the hopes no one said anything to her. It generally worked, and for the most part she wasn’t bothered. Today was one of those days.

The rest of classes went on as normal, and Vanellope would end her day by having to hurry in order to catch the bus. Unfortunately, today was not so kind in that regard. Vanellope ended up quite unlucky and had to weave between crowds of exiting students. Once or twice she stumbled with her weak legs to thank for it, and by the time she got out of the building…

The school bus was already leaving.

“Great. Just great. Now I’ve gotta call mom to come and pick me up,” Vanellope grumbled. She started to try and dig her phone out of her backpack, and thus left herself open to just about anything that could happen. It would only be a matter of time until some other students saw her and decided to take the opportunity to mess with her.

Some days, Vanellope wished more than anything for a change of pace. Someone to look at her with some emotion beyond apathy or contempt. By that point, Vanellope would have accepted anything. Whether or not she got what she wanted in the end, though, was something that only fate could determine.