≪ ◦ ❖ ◦ ≫
ℑ𝔫 𝔴𝔥𝔦𝔠𝔥 𝔞 𝔠𝔢𝔯𝔱𝔞𝔦𝔫 𝔤𝔦𝔯𝔩 𝔣𝔦𝔫𝔡𝔰 𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔰𝔢𝔩𝔣 𝔞𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔶
≪ ◦ ❖ ◦ ≫
'Stare at me any longer pretty boy
and I might just punch you in the face'
'To be honest, I'm willing to take that c...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
𝗪𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗯𝗼𝗿𝗻, your mother had been shuffling her tarot cards. This wasn't unusual in itself, for she was never spotted without her beloved deck, but what happened next was. As she slowly laid down her cards, The Star, The Sun and Death, they began to glow.
Your mother, age 22, was renowned for her eerily accurate fortune telling, and her ethereal beauty. Long auburn locks fell to her hips, framing her face perfectly, pale skin blemished only by the crescent shaped mark in the middle of her forehead. Luscious lips, a deep ruby, and perceptive green eyes, your mother was every inch the mystical diva she portrayed to her customers. She had lived a long life, seen things that had no explanation, done things that had no explanation.
Several of these things fell under her tarot readings. They were always right, no matter what. It was impossible, people exclaimed, yet it happened before their very eyes. Her success was partly due to her quirk, 𝓣𝓪𝓻𝓸𝓽 𝓜𝓪𝓷𝓲𝓹𝓾𝓵𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷, in which she could create, shape and manipulate the tarot cards. She could use this to predict the future, or sometimes even change the near future if she wished . However, changing the future often left her bedridden, and it was only small changes, such as a vase not getting broken. But never in all of her years of fortune telling had she seen this happen.
Her eyes widened in shock, and she whipped her around to face your father, who was dozing peacefully in a chair beside her hospital bed.
'Hey, wake up! No snoozing, get up!' She punctuated this last sentence with a forceful clap of her hands, startling the man next to her awake.
'H-Huh? Oh, honey... What's up?' Yes, your supposedly mature father, at the ripe age of 23, still said what's up. As you grew older, you strongly suspected that he was dropped as a baby, and never fully matured in that brain of his.
Your father, apart from being immature sometimes, was on the whole a good man. His hair was raven black, and he had sea blue eyes with tanned skin. However, due to an unfortunate accident in childhood, his face was littered with scars. The scars didn't matter to most, for what he lacked in beauty he made up for in intelligence and charm. It didn't hurt that his quirk was all about enticing people .𝓔𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓖𝓪𝓶𝓮, that's what he called it. He could charm people into playing a game with him, and manipulate everything about said game, including the outcome. Safe to say, he was a great gambler. However, he left that behind when he married your mother
'My cards, they, they GLOWED!' Your mother shrieked, pointing a trembling finger at the offending cards. Her husband blinked sleepily at her then the cards, not fully understanding. 'Sweetheart, are you sure-' 'YES I AM, I DO STILL HAVE MY WITS ABOUT ME!' Unperturbed at this outburst, he simply sank back into the chair, telling her she must be seeing things because of the stress on her body.
Before she could protest her sanity, a cry of pain erupted from her mouth. Your father sat up again, now alert. 'The baby, it's coming!' She cried. The man quickly dashed out for the nurses.
𝗧𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝘀𝗸𝗶𝗽 𝗯𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗯𝘆 𝗮 𝗻𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗼𝘂𝘀 𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿
'Here Mrs. Your daughter.'
Your mother's face shone like the sun while gazing at yours. Happiness radiated from both your parents, and a peaceful silence settled over the room. For a few minutes, all that was heard were tiny babbles of a child, until -
'Sooooooo....Who's quirk do you think she'll have?'
