Buttercup

Small Backstory:

Born in Ponyville’s tight knit community, not all talents were accepted. It was very rare though, that something was so widely frowned upon, but it did happen from time to time. 

Artificial cutie marks was one of these concepts that was never accepted, everyone had to earn it. None of them should be tainted with markings that never belonged to them, engraved in their skin rather than blood. The young filly had always found it fond, the idea of inked artwork upon a mare or stallion. She hoped she could maybe dip her hoof into the hobby one day. Her focus on other talents was always scarce and this was the one thing she could really read into and talk about. Her parents had also tried to assist her, introducing her to a variety of things she could pursue, but her interest was- as expected, small.

Later on when she did earn her cutie mark, she was ecstatic. It was an inked pen and a flower, in reference to her name. She showed her parents in delight, ears perked and a smile from ear to ear. They rushed into the room to see, but their smiles soon turned downward, brows furrowing. They exchanged glances as Buttercup pranced in her newfound confidence. Her father was the first to speak, telling her straightforward that maybe she could pursue other talents, that they could continue to try and maybe leave this one to be buried. Catching on to their disappointment, a spark grew inside her, one that wanted to rebel and shout all the way from Cloudsdale that she deserved to be someone just as much as anypony else. Her mouth stood shut though, knowing this wasn’t the right time. With a simple nod her parents exited the room, quiet whispers following that she could barely decipher, but she didn’t need to clearly understand to know what it was in reference to.

The next day was a disaster, and she was the laughing stock of the small schoolhouse she attended. Most did laugh, but others looked at her in disgust. Her closest friends immediately turned away from her, saying they couldn’t be associated with a pony such as herself. Buttercup was heartbroken, tearing at the seems. It felt like everyone in Ponyville hung her on the wall as a disgrace, placed on the highest hill to show others what not to do. 

That night she furiously packed whatever she needed into her saddle bag, leaving whatever reminded her of family of friends she had known since they were fillies. She didn’t bother to leave a note, who would read it? Opening her window she flew out, leaving the cool breeze to melt into her abandoned room. Hopping on whatever train she could, she eventually found herself in Manehatten.

She never did find herself returning to Ponyville, even after many moons. Her parents were never heard from either. It didn’t bother her though, being on her own was something the mare had grown accustomed to. A few years following, she owned a small tattoo parlor in a downtown area, crowded- but not too crowded. The shop was a necessity to keep her afloat on whatever bits she earned. Ponies came and left, along with an abundance of other species. She found love and fondness in those who came and found interest in her passion, although never quite knowing how to express it. She did her best though, thriving off the energy that always kept her quick-paced.

[umhh not sure how to end this 🤩 ]