❛ —𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 ❜— ᴘ.ᴘ.
T I N K E R B E L L
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INTRO BELOW THE CUT
name: tinkerbell ❛ tink ❜
face claim: jeanne goursaud
alignment: neutral
positive attributes: loyal, witty, can truly understand how one is feeling, passionate, forgiving
character flaws: obsessive, short-tempered, borderline narcissist, aggressive, sarcastic.
ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ
tinkerbell is blissfully aware of the cruel, violent and savagery nature of peter pan but it is for that she dotes on him fondly. getting into the good graces of peter is a feat many assume they have accomplished, but one tinkerbell knows she is part of selective few to have actually achieved. she is crass, sharp-tongued, temperamental, and fiercely loyal to peter and gloats her importance to him whenever she can, particularly at the new lost boys who feel entitled to be by his side. laughter is her strongest form of mockery, and though she is hardly taller than a mossy stone from the lagoon, tinkerbell’s laugh is one that could rustle the branches of trees from miles away. It comes from a place of knowing that as much as peter may use her, throw her around, instruct, nag and prod her… that he would strip the life from anyone who so much as threatened her.
in a empty forest, amongst an orchestra of chirping from lone crickets and the chorus of croaks coming from the frogs mounted up in the branches of oak trees… there is a WHISTLE. the wind carries the sound through outstretched branches, between ominously stones stacked alongside susurrant waters of a bumbling brook, up above the treetops to grace the clouds before diving it back down to drift atop the dampened earth. the whistle’s volume rises and falls, piano then forte, until it makes it’s way to the ears of whomever is listening, except it’s not a whistle; it’s laughter. shrill, piercing, devious laughter.
though she knows her and peter being together is not something that could ever be, due to her being a small folk and him being, well, peter… it is a fantasy of hers that makes sleeping at night a bit easier. tinkerbell’s love for peter pan borders on obsessive, as she would put anyone in harms way that dare to come in between the two of them or even threaten him. unrequited love isn’t a concept that tink is capable of processing, as her reckless, borderline narcissism convinces here that the real peter, HER peter, loves her more than anything… and she knows that everyone else is merely a puzzle piece in this never ended game the two of them are playing together. she would give her life for peter if it came down to it, and she would die happily knowing that her death would save, and yet simultaneously, destroy him.
ᴀ ɢʟɪᴍᴘꜱᴇ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛɪɴᴋ'ꜱ ʜᴇᴀᴅ…
the treehouse was quiet, the wind gently brushing through the tufts of sprouting spring leaves and the sun shining through the crack in the oak’s exterior creating a relaxing and peaceful ambiance. peter and the lost boys were out, training perhaps, the the small fae was curled up atop peter’s pillow, blissfully stretched out on the fabric, lids shut and lips pulled into a lull of a smile. the smell of musk, sand, and cypress tickled her nose, the scent of peter relinquishing a sigh from her as she further nestled her head into the plush, worn headrest. every so often, tinkerbell yearned to tag along with peter and his lost boys, and on the rare occasions she did, she’d be flying right alongside peter and securing a spot on his shoulder (like an obedient PET) to remind him, to remind everyone, just how much importance she believed she held. today, however, she was particularly exhausted. the island was thumming with a rhythm she had felt many times before, a signal that peter was feeling a bit more like himself, today. the buzz comforted her, like she was being rocked in one of those bassinets she noticed human children were kept in when they were young, and so here she laid; breathing in the smell of peter, cradled in the warmth of his pillow, feeling his essence in the hum of the island beneath her. however, her peace was quickly disturbed by a familiar crow sounded outside of the door, followed by a chorus of enthusiastic cheers and whoops. slowly, the fae sat up, rubbing sleepily at her eyes and pouting theatrically at the disturbance to her daydreaming. ❛ damn those LOST BOYS, ❜ tink had grumbled, stretching her arms up above her head as her wings flittered to life behind her, preparing to seek refuge in her own ‘room’ and hide from the rambunctious field day that was occurring outside. as she slowly rose to her feet, shaking out the sleep from her body, she heard the familiar voice… one that immediately made her face turn red. it was a girls voice, but not just any voice… HER voice. tink’s face fell, shock settling in her tiny chest as her pin-sized heart began to rattle the confined cage her ribs kept it trapped in. her breathing increased, lungs rapidly taking in and releasing air as she found herself scrambling up in the air, wings beating behind her, flying quickly to a crack in the wood, pressing tiny palms against the wall and peering through to see if her mind was deceiving her. upon realization that it wasn’t, tink floated backwards, shaking her head; ❛ no… no, no, no…❜ anger swelled up inside of her, steam just about pouring out of her ears, hands flying up to her hair and resisting the urge to pull every single last strand from the root. in a panicked rage, she pushed her weight towards her little hideaway and disappeared behind the leaf flaps just in time to beat the entourage as they barreled through the door. hot, rage-infused tears lined the fae’s eyes as she rocked her fist back to slam against the wall, her weight falling to the ground as she collapsed to her rear, knees coming to her forehead as she buried her face in her hands. she had finally gotten her peter back, after all this time, he had doted on her as he had once before and held her up and now?? all over again… his attention would return to that wretched BEAST of a girl who had left him once before, and surely would again. tinkerbell LOVED peter pan. she would do anything for him- she HAD done everything for him. she kept his secrets, she held his pain, she stayed by his side even when he made efforts to cast her away… and now, here she sat, balled up in the small, hollow room peter had hand carved for her in the treehouse, wishing only for silence and for the thumming of the island to STOP.
ᴏᴏᴄ
name: harp/harper
age: twenty three
timezone: est
pronouns: she/her
triggers: n/a













