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phykios · 3 years

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honesty and promise me, part 10 [co-written with @darkmagyk] [read on ao3]

“If you don’t talk to me, I’m not going to leave you my keys.”

Annabeth looks at Piper from behind the loom, glaring through the threads. “Then you won’t come back to ten bolts of fabric.”

In fairness, it was sort of an empty threat. Piper has all the good stuff: the surger, the embroidery machine, the industrial sewing machines, plus a million sources for fabric that aren’t Annabeth’s stress weaving. Annabeth only has her own shitty sewing machine at home that she’d gotten for Christmas when she was fourteen.

Also, Piper wouldn’t actually lock her out. She needs those fabrics.

“Why don’t you just not go?” Annabeth says. “If you stay, I promise to tell you all the gritty details.” She’s joking, but the second she says it, she’s hit with a strange wave of desperation.

She wants to tell Piper all the gritty details. How she had giggled and smoozed and looked so pretty on Luke’s arm, tattoos and undercut and everything else so carefully concealed. She never wanted to tell Thalia the gritty details. The dirty ones, sure, particularly when the dirty things didn’t involve Thalia’s beloved younger cousin. But she had spent two years, two hard painful years, hiding vast swaths of herself from Thalia.

She thought of the night of the gala, of Thalia telling her family she knew Luke from college. NYU. They’d been actors together.

Annabeth hadn’t been the only one hiding things.

It had stung, in all sorts of ways.

Piper stares, narrowing her eyes. “How dare you tempt me into giving up my creative retreat for gossip.”

Annabeth shrugs. “It’s one or the other.”

The glare at each other, stubborn as all hell.

Piper throws up her hands. “Fine. Just make my fabric and call Leo if you’re having another crisis.”

The truth is, she will tell Piper. Eventually. She knows she will. It will probably be in eight months, when she gets back, when hopefully the shame of her false life and the devastation of losing Percy has lessened, but she will tell her. But eight months is a long time. “I do have other friends, you know.”

“Then call Luke. Or Thalia.”

It takes absolutely everything Annabeth has not to wince at the names.

She would never have told Thalia. Not really. Even things like this, even if it hadn’t involved her. Thalia wasn’t… good at relationship stuff. Not like Piper. And she never knew all of Annabeth’s romantic history--not like Piper did, anyway.

And it wasn’t just romantic relationships.

Annabeth might have been able to share her pain, and share her pain with Thalia, but it had, in many ways, only been a surface level thing. Thalia saw her pain after Annabeth’s mom had rescinded her approval of her life, but she'd taken Annabeth’s silence as the end of the matter, and responded to it by acting out, and arguably drinking too much.

But they never talked about her mother. They never talked about Thalia’s, either, and if there was something Annabeth learned from Hazel’s gala beyond how unfairly handsome Percy was going to look in thirty years, it was that there was a lot going on there.

It is a little hurtful on reflection. Making her feel less close to Thalia, but also less guilty about what she never said. And less willing to accept her reactions.

Her emotions have been all over the place the last few weeks.

Piper notices, because of course Piper notices, but she is an angel, and has known her for a long time, so she doesn’t badger her too much. She also doesn’t mention that Annabeth’s measurements all seem to be off. Not even to say something about beauty at every size or her well publicized efforts for diverse bodies in fashion.

But it was still nice to spend time with her. It felt like the old days, staying up too late making the next thing in fashion, and then passing out together, surrounded by bobbins and bagels, Gossip Girl playing on TV.

It did make Piper’s impending departure that much harder, though.

Two weeks into November, she meets Piper and Leo for dinner, and then sees Piper off to JFK for her eight-month creativity retreat in Oklahoma. “You know, like how you decided you couldn’t have a doorman for creative reasons,” she’d said with a raised eyebrow when Annabeth had questioned the move. Piper likes to treat the last two years of Annabeth’s life like some sort of creative exercise. Her dad had done that too, once, when she bothered to answer his call.

Not that she’s not doing anything other than helping Piper pick stitches, and sewing hemlines Piper is too important to deal with herself. She wishes that earlier estimation had been true.

Since the gala she’s been living on Uber Eats at Piper’s, unless she gets bullied home, in which case it's the same but less varied selection with more meat, so the night out with Piper and Leo the night before Piper’s flight feels like a radical departure from the norm. Even though they just go to dinner.

Which does not stop her from feeling hungover the next morning.

“You had half a glass of wine last night,” Leo points out from the door of her bathroom.

“I remember,” she agrees when it lets up for a moment.

“If you get me sick,” he says, “I’m sending you the doctor's bill.”

“Fair,” she chokes out.

Leo doesn’t hug her goodbye, but he does tell her he hopes she gets better before heading back to Boston.

Annabeth, hugging porcelain, wishes she could go with him.

She was very seriously considering it a few days later. Magnus would take pity on her and Alex was always fun to hang out with. Plus, they’d probably think she was too pathetic to be called on her shit. She only did not make plans to go up to Boston because on Wednesday Luke texted her: Already a shit week, brunch this weekend? And she knew if she ran off to Boston, she wouldn’t leave Magnus and Alex’s guest room until they forced the issue.

But it would be nice to talk to someone in New York City who doesn’t hate her guts, she thought.

So, on Sunday morning, she throws up the wonton soup she’d ordered in for dinner the night before, gurgles some mouthwash, uses the expensive concealer to hide the dark circles, and over does the mascara in hopes that she mostly looks awake.

“You look terrible,” are the first words Luke says to her.

“You have no idea how to talk to women,” she says, slumping down across from him.

“I do,” Luke says, “I just know not to bother with you.” But he frowns at her, taking her in. She’s broken out a Chanel jacket, but she isn’t sure when she last washed these jeans. A real winning combo, her.

“But really,” Luke says, “you look miserable. Is it about what happened on Halloween?”

She shrugs. It isn’t not that. Percy’s words still circle through her head, his sad, defeated face as he bemoaned the, how did he put it? All the rich girls who fucked him to make a point. Made all the worse because she believes them. Probably not the same points as those princesses, but… probably not as different as she would like.

She wonders if Europe is full of very wealthy aristocratic women who are all secretly and shamefully still in love with Percy Jackson. And Frank Zhang.

It makes her feel hollow and nauseous all at once.

But she’s been feeling nauseous for weeks now, so at least it's not a new feeling. If it keeps up, she’s going to have to go to the doctor soon.

She hates going to the doctor. It feels like cheating when she just goes and pays and knows other people can’t. She had once lied to Thalia about getting money for a side gig, and then given her two hundred bucks for a trip to the clinic. Now that Annabeth has spent many hours in his cousin’s apartment, and has heard Nico talk about his yearly income on top of the money his dad gives him, she’s not sure how it came down to her.

“Not really,” Annabeth says, “I mean, I still feel just as terrible, but that’s mostly the problem. I feel sick.”

“It's been three weeks.” Luke looks genuinely concerned. “What’s going on?”

“I’m exhausted and nauseous all the time,” she says, groaning at the thought. She was okay right at this moment, but she knew it could come back at the drop of a hat.

Luke frowned at her. “That’s all?”

“Isn’t that enough?”

“I mean…” He looked at her, his eyes gazing lower, to her body. Luke had never really come on to her in any kind of real way. But she’s not sure he’s ever looked at her with less lust than he does right at that moment.

It is calculating. She’s gained some weight, she knows. But if Luke points it out, she’s going to kick him in the nuts with her steel toed boots. Or maybe make him explain himself and his relationship with Thalia.

“Annabeth,” Luke says, his voice lower, a frown on his face, “please don’t freak out.”

She can feel her heart pick up, just a bit. “That’s a terrible place to start.”

“Have you been feeling… emotionally volatile lately? Having a lot of mood swings?”

She frowns. She’d maybe been crying a little more than normal at sentimental hulu ads, but she always has a soft touch for that kind of thing, and she’s going through some stuff. “I don’t think you should ask a woman that.”

“You are really not going to like my next question, then.” He leans close and says, “Are your… breasts tender?”

“You’re right, I don’t like that question,” Annabeth says, crossing her arms over her chest. Even though they are. “I don’t know why you thought that, and how you knew.”

Luke looks at her with such pity, she feels like she’s suddenly eighteen years old again, and crying on his couch at the end of freshman year about the greatest heartbreak of her life. (It had moved to second place. Lucky it. The boy in that bar had only been theoretical, mostly.)

Luke reaches out, grasping one of her hands, and for a second, Annabeth is sure he is going to tell her that she’s dying.

“Have you considered you might be pregnant?”

She yanks her hand away. “I can’t be pregnant,” she says. “I haven’t had sex in weeks.”

“Have you had your period since then?” Luke asks.

“Not that it's any of your business,” she says, “but I haven’t had one in years.” They do talk about sex sometimes, but periods had long been off the Luke table.

Luke grimaces. “Well, you’ve been sexually active recently…”

“It’s been more than a month!”

“When did you start getting morning sickness?” Luke asks “You were throwing up at Halloween.”

“That wasn’t in the morning,” she snaps, “and I feel fine now.”

“You know morning sickness doesn’t just happen in the morning,” Luke says. “And with the rest of your symptoms, well--”

She shakes her head, glaring at Luke. His judgement would have been better than his patient mansplaining. “You think I don’t use birth control?”

Luke shrugs a little. “I mean… you’re… not great at things like daily medication. That’s what happened last time. And if a condom broke or you didn’t use one…”

Last time. Oh, last time. Last time had been the worst four hours of her life, in between realizing that she hadn’t been remembering her birth control pills every day, that her period was a few days late, and that she’d definitely been having unprotected sex with that boy in Luke’s cohort who was probably too old for her. Last time had been her having a panic attack on Luke’s Cambridge apartment couch while a very reluctant Leo was sent to buy a pregnancy test or twelve, and Piper reassuring her via speaker phone that it would be ok, while Luke rubbed her back and reminded her to breathe.

“I do remember what happened last time,” she says. “That’s why I got an IUD. Which, if you don’t know, from all your girlfriends' pregnancy scares, has the same failure rate as permanent sterilization, less than one percent. So…” So it would be okay. She couldn’t be pregnant. That’s why it had been okay for Percy and Annabeth to start fucking without a condom.

“When was the last time you got a new one?”

“August.” She says, thinking back. She was almost sure. “I remember because it was before the Eta thing--Leo called me to tell me about the ceremony while I was at the gyno.”

“So you were distracted and being a bad patient when they were trying to put it in?”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

But she won’t give Luke, of all people, the satisfaction. “They are professionals. They should know what they’re doing, even if I was on the phone.”

Luke gives her his most disappointed dad face. It is worse than Annabeth’s own father. “You’re the one who always tells me I need to not make people’s jobs harder by being a bad client,” he quietly reminds her.

She fucking hates him.

But despite herself, she pulls out her phone, and begins googling misplaced IUDs and pregnancy.

They haven’t even ordered yet, but Luke is already standing up, probably based on the look on her face as she manages to fight through the dyslexia and figure out what it says. “Come on,” he says, helping her out of her chair, even though she’s not an invalid. She just might be pregnant.

She pushes that thought away as she follows Luke into a cab and then up to his apartment. He makes her some tea and hands her a banana while he goes to get her a pregnancy test, because Luke’s not quite shameless enough to have one at home. She waits for him in a living room straight out of American Psycho and reads up on IUD pregnancy complications online. Which she probably should not have done.

By the time Luke gets back, she is crying again. He’s gotten her 3 tests, which is very considerate of him, as she’s going to need them.

Walking into the bathroom, she’s shaking hard enough that she needs to brace herself on the wall. He lets her use the nice one off his bedroom, though it's not like she needs the jacuzzi tub.

When she’s done peeing, she sets a timer on her phone and sits on Luke’s bed. He tries to speak to her several times. She doesn’t respond.

It isn’t the longest ten minutes of her life, because the truth is, she knows.

She already knows.

When the alarm goes off, she shrugs off Luke’s arm and silently walks back into the bathroom.

Luke got a digital readout, because what else was he going to do. And so she looks at the little screen and just barely processes the word pregnant.

She doesn’t need to take the other tests. She doesn’t need confirmation or to be convinced.

She reaches down and pressed on her lower abdomen, lifting her shirt. She had noticed a slight change. But she’d also changed a lot of her daily routine lately, had eaten a lot more ice cream. Right now, she can’t see any kind of bump, not really, but she can see a shift. Something flat gone fuller.

Annabeth is pregnant.

Annabeth is pregnant with Percy’s baby.

Percy’s baby.

She bursts into tears all over again.

An eternity later, there is a knock on the door.

“Annabeth,” Luke calls, “can I come in?”

She manages to choke out a yes.

Luke finds her sitting on the edge of the tub. He looked at the test still sitting on the counter.

“Let me make a call,” he says, sitting next to her, resting a hand on her arm. “I know a doctor. He can get you a pill or maybe even see you if you need it. Probably today or tomorrow. We can get this all taken care of and then I’ll buy you ice cream and we can watch Legally Blonde, and you can complain about how it doesn’t accurately reflect the admissions process.”

Normally Annabeth would pre-complain, and point out that given Elle’s GPA, LSAT, and extracurricular activities, she would have been a shoe in for her program, and the movie was dismissive of her prior academic achievement. But she’s too busy parsing what Luke is saying.

He squeezes her hand in support. “It's going to be okay,” he says, sweetly.

“No.” She says. But not because it won’t be okay. “No, I’m not going to have an abortion.”

“It's okay,” Luke promises. “I would never judge you. And no one else would ever have to know. This isn’t something you have to do.”

“I know that,” Annabeth says. “I don’t have to do anything.” She detangles her hand from Luke’s and rests it on her stomach, where her uterus waits under her skin. “I want to do this.”

Luke looks at her hand. “Poseidon Olympianides’ son?” he asks. “That’s the father?”

She nods.

Blowing out a breath through his teeth, he sighs. “Well, you’ll be able to get some good child support out of him at least. That family is loaded.”

“Don’t say that,” she nearly screams, and Luke actually jerks back a little. “He doesn’t have any money. He’s his dad’s bastard kid,” she says, feeling a little bad about revealing his family history, but knowing that the word would spark something in Luke. “I don’t know if I’m even going to tell him.”

It feels like something cheap and shallow, trapping a man with a lie, then a baby.

She’s still crying and tentatively, Luke reaches out and wraps his arms around her, pulls her to him.

“Come on,” he says, pulling her up. “You still need ice cream and a movie.”

Annabeth cries. And she doesn’t fight him, but it feels so strange. Half way through her Caramel Sutra and the Legally Blonde proshot, she realizes what’s different.

For the first time since Percy walked out of her apartment without a good-bye kiss, Annabeth Chase is happy.

She’s pregnant with Percy Jackson’s baby.

She’s going to have Percy Jackson’s baby.

She’s not sure if she’s ever heard anything as wonderful in her entire life.

And if she’s going to be worthy of it, worthy of her baby, then she’s going to have to get her shit together.

#my fic #ballet au #pjo #pjo fic #percabeth #percabeth fic #darkmagyk #perseannabeth #goooooooooooooooooooood morning all!

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headcans-oneshots-and-stuff · 4 years

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Batboys x Cosplayer!reader (preference)

Requested by the great @middevil465: Batboys dating a cosplayer,but downside is that they have to put up with their sewing at 2am

Dick:

Okay so this boy will be your biggest fanboy

ESPECIALLY if you cosplay him as Nightwing

(Not to be kinky on main, but depending on how..uhm... showing... the costume is he might get a bit frisky if ya know what I mean)

He wants to help as much as possible

You have to finish sewing that cape, but your wig isn’t styled yet? Don’t worry, Dick has enough expirence from his long hair phase to take care of that for you!

You want to cosplay a certain hero (or villain), but can’t fid that specific item that would make the cosplay perfect (maybe a weapon, a mask, etc.)? Dick might or might not steal borrow said item from the original hero for you (of course he gives it back after you had a photoshoot or something similar and he always feels a bit bad for the hero (not for the villains tho))

Now to the “downsides”

Dick, unlike some of his siblings, actually rather enjoys sleep

“I need my beauty sleep, all this perfection doesn’t come from nothing”

And he is honestly torn

He loves and supports you so so so much and he understands that you can be your most productive around the nighttimes, but he just came back from like two to three hours of patrol after a whole day of working at the police station and he honestly just want to sleeeeeeeeeeeep

So he finds a comprimise and fucking sound isolates the room your sewing in

It’s a win-win if we think about it and you probably would go as far as to just completely take over the room to make it your own little cosplay studio

Everyone sleeps is happy

Jason:

Jason is a whole ass hurricane

Don’t misunderstand me, he loves your hobby and he thinks it’s cool, but how excited he is depends on who exactly you cosplay

Him? Amazing, showstopping, great, breathtaking, nothing more amazing ever happened in this triste gray world before that

Robin (also slightly depending on which incarnation)? Cute, want to cuddle, 9/10 would do again

Batman? “That looks nice babe, you can take it off now” (Please don’t wear a more feminine toned (or just in general reaveling if you’re not female) batman cosplay. Jason is not ready for that amount of daddy issues)

Someone like Harley, Ivy, Selina? Hell, even penguine or Riddler? He digs it for some reason and he might even show the respective rouge a picture of the cosplay (if he knows that it’s not possible to identify you).

They all love it, possible have a little fanclub

You cosplay as any other hero? Depending on how much of a little fangirl Jason is he will be really exsited and happy with you

Now, if you, for some unknown reason like losing your brain, because quite honestly that’s what it would take for me, decide to cosplay the Joker...

Welp, you’re single now... Sorry not sorry, but Jason is not okay with that

But that’s just a real extreme so let’s get away from that again, shall we?

Jason is used to being kept awake at night, be it from his thoughts or his nightmares (Housten, we’re sinking to deep)

So when he comes home from patrol around 2/3 a.m. and finds you sitting in the living room or the bedroom on your sewing machine (a gift from Bruce so state of the art technology and relativly silent, BUT NOT SILENT ENOUGH)

He just sighs

He might just sit down beside you and watch or chat a bit or, if he feels a bit more touchy, stand beside you and braide your hair

When you’re finished he’ll pick you up and cuddle with you in bed, trapping you effectivly for the next 8 to 10 hours

Tim:

Did someone say couple cosplay? Because Yes. Yes you do

It isn’t that Tim ever really thought of doing cosplay or plans to use his rare free time to do it, but as soon as seing you cosplay literally anyone, he’s sold

He is a gigantic fanboy, has you cosplaying him (not Red Robin, just Tim) as his lock screen and you cosplaying Red Robin as his home screen

He’s not sure what it is, but one day he’s just sitting at his computer doing Wayne Inc. stuff when you send him a picture of you cosplaying someone and just has a metaphorical lightbulb over his head

He sneakily finds out who you will cosplay next and luckily for him it’s Zelda

He puts everything in order and the day you want to test the cosplay out, see if everything goes together and you can pull it off, a wild Link appears

He did one hell of a job for his first cosplay (he might have had Wayne Inc. designers for the upcoming clothing line do it, but who cares amiright?)

After that it’s kind of a tradition that once in a while the two of you pull off a couple cosplay and it’s the cutest thing ever

The highlight was when you cosplayed Batman and Catwoman on a (private) halloween party, just with the catch that you had it gender bend so Catman and Batwoman (not the Batwoman-Batwoman, but y’know what I mean), not breaking the character to the amusement of everyone present (excpet maybe Bruce who acts annoyed, but kinda thinks it’s funny)

So now to the nights

contrary to popular belief I do think Tim sleeps more than an hour or two at times

Maybe not in a healthy rythm or with any logic behind it, but he does

Mostly

Just not nights for the most part, it’s mostly in the afternoon after a few hours at Wayne Inc, or the homeoffice or college (depending on which Tim!state we’re thinking off) and before Patrol

so when he comes home to find you sewing he’s actually rather happy

He won’t let you go to bed after you’re finished until you’re really tired or if you have something important the next day

You will watch a movie or do something stupid or even go out and see what Gotham city can give you around 3 a.m. (of course with a hidden weapon on tim’s part and him not letting you out of sight)

Those nights are his favorite

Damian:

Damian, like so many things, doesn’t quite understand

What’s the appeal of dressing yourself like someone you’re not?

Why do you wear fake hair?

He also doesn’t seem to see any connection between him dressing up every DAMN NIGHT

It’s two completely different situations for him

It’s not like he does anything against that hobby of yours, but at least at the beginning he just keeps out of it

That most likely will change if you ever decide to cosplay him (as Robin)

If he comes to visit you after school at your place and he walks into your room (given your parents opened the front door for you) seeing you in a surprisingly good replica of his costume?

Bby boy is sold

The better the replica looks the quicker he is to fuzz over it

After that he kinda sees the point behind it (or not, but he supports it now and wants you to have even better, more detailed, costumes)

He’ll get you so much stuff

You want to cosplay someone, but the only wig you have that fits is a bit too long?

Well hillerihoo, you got a new one that fits perfectly and is almost life-like now

Don’t ever mention that you don’t feel comfortable with him spending so much money for you, because he won’t stop

He’ll find his ways to spoil you, believe me

quick interruption before we go to the night part:

If you’re Damian’s GF, you’re most likely bound to be good friends with Jon

So it’s only a question of time until he asks you to cosplay him

If you do he’ll be excited like a puppy you just gave a treat while Damian will pout

A lot

And I mean A LOT

You’ll either have to suffer through a few days of pouty Damian or you make an even better Cosplay of him (as Robin) or Batman (both works for him since he sees himself as the future Batman already)

That’ll make him happy again

Now to the night-part

Okay so let’s assume we’re talking about Teen!Damian (obviously also Teen!reader!!!)

You two won’t be living together so that won’t be a problem and since you’re living with y’alls parents and I will assume they won’t be happy about you sewing at 2 a.m.

Also, Damian will offer to have people make the costumes for you, but he will let that go if you tell him that making the costumes is a big part about all that, the part that makes it so amazing

IF we’re talking about grown up!Damian and Reader and the two of you live together, it’ll be a lot similair to Dick (in as he get’s you your own little cosplay studio) so that he won’t be kept awake by it

but somedays he’s more like Jason and will stay up with you and to keep you company during these creative sessions

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redinkofshame · 3 years

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Arranged Marriage

Hipster AU did not spark joy, so I used the Arranged Marriage joker for day 3 of the @augustwritingchallenge. This is probably the last one I’ll do, unless I also do an arranged marriage for Cedric/Cassandra. It’s also my favorite one :D

The evanuris have survived to the dragon age, Fen'Harel included amongst them. In order to make peace with the free clans of elves a marriage is arranged between the Trickster and one of their own. Like all of Solas' plans, it goes awry.

1882 words, mature for smexiness but no actual hanky panky. Read on AO3

Wedding Night

“You still intend to go through with this, then?” Mythal asked.

Fen’Harel sighed, eyeing her reflection from where he stood surrounded by attendants. They made last minute adjustments to his wedding vestiments, buffed his nails, applied cosmetics. “I gave my word, didn’t I?”

“Yes, but even you must admit you have a proclivity for… last minute ‘tricks’. We must make peace with the free clans—”

“Easiest done with a marriage, and I am the only one amongst us who is yet unmarried, yes, I know,” he said, biting his tongue. He knew better than the rest of them how important this was; they continued to underestimated the power of the free clans.

“It’s merely surprising that you haven’t proposed some other crazy solution to avoid being tamed. You’ve been the lone wolf, all alone all these ages…”

He shooed away his attendants and sunk into the nearest chair. His hair dresser immediately made her move, beginning the bothersome process of brushing, curling, and braiding. An annoyance. A necessity. Long hair; the status symbol of a spoiled man who, supposedly, knew nothing of hard work, nor manual labor. No more a threat than a bunch of unaligned clans who could scarcely produce mages.

That is, of course, until he used this marriage to forge an alliance with his spouse’s people. The final key to in his plot to take down the Evanuris once and for all.

“All good things must come to an end,” he said with feigned disinterest. “Remind me the name of who I’m to wed again? That man from the garden with the curly hair?”

Mythal gave him a scathingly admonishing look. “Really, Fen, the least you could do is remember your intended’s name.” She kept up the look for another moment but when he gave no response she simply sighed. “You’re thinking of the ambassador they sent to announce that your bride was chosen by vote of the free clans at Arlathven.”

“She is important to them, then? A powerful mage?” he asked hopefully.

Mythal snorted. “Hardly. They say she has some skill with the arcane, but she’s better known for her sewing— no, embroidery.” He grunted in disappointment and she continued, almost to herself. “She’s no particular beauty, either. I can’t image she’s the best they’ve got to offer. Frankly, I’m tempted to take offense at the offering, but we already granted them permission to choose for themselves…”

He waved his hand dismissively. “It hardly matters what she looks like, so long as they care for her enough to lay down their arms.”

“I suppose. Her name is Keria, by the way, of Lavellan’s clan. Do try to remember it during the ceremony.” He felt her eyes on him, but kept his head bowed as his hair was adorned with golden toggles. “You know that you will have to gift her with her vallaslin during the ceremony as well.”

“Of course.”

Mythal stepped closer and lowered her voice. “A true vallaslin, Fen’Harel.”

The girl working his hair froze. He didn’t have to look at her to know that she, as all his servants, his “slaves”, wore a convincing imitation of his vallaslin on her face. He’d marked each of them with enough magic to keep them safe from the others, but it held none of the controlling or manipulation that a true vallaslin held.

He saw to it that his people followed him voluntarily, not due to fear or power. Many of them were agents of his grand plan playing a role until it was time to strike at the heart of their oppressors.

None of which Mythal was supposed to know, of course.

He met her eyes. “I understand.”

She held his gaze for a long moment, a silent threat, gauging his sincerity. At last, she nodded.

~~~~~

He remembered the name, of course, the ceremony lines, and the spell to apply a proper vallaslin to her pale face in front of everyone. Mythal’s assessment had been harsh — she was pretty enough. Her unruly black hair was short, of course, as was her place. He supposed she would grow it out, now. Her eyes were a shockingly bright blue, when he could get a good look at them, but she largely kept them averted. Her gown was a work of art. The cut of it was common enough, classic, but every inch of it was covered in painstaking embroidery. Her doing?

Not that her beauty mattered; he cared only whether or not she would become his willing ally in their fight, or if he’d have to use her new position as leverage. He’d expected her to fear him as the clans always did — with good reason. He was Mythal’s general, the attack dog she released whenever they stepped out of line or needed to be taught a lesson. At first he thought her unwillingness to meet his eyes was because she was afraid, or worse, because she loathed him. He would not hold it against her.

Surprisingly it was shy glances and flustered smiles he was met with. A blushing bride indeed.

The day was filled with much pomp and posturing, dancing and music and feasting and well-wishers and veiled insults and vague threats. Elgar’nan and the others were jumpy, so certain he was going to ruin this for them that they never considered it had been his idea to begin with. It was many hours before he and his new wife were able to retreat to his suite.

Or ‘their’ suite, he supposed, though he’d happily grant her separate chambers if she requested it. His rooms were plenty large enough for the two of them, but he didn’t relish the loss of this ability to move freely.

He left her for a moment upon entering to get familiar with the space as he stepped into the dressing chamber. He sighed in the relative privacy.

It was fortunate that Keria seemed to be a willing — perhaps eager — partner in this charade, but thus far she seemed too timid of a girl to bring honestly into his machinations. It would take some time to discern best how to proceed from here. In the mean time it was his wedding night…

He was certainly willing to bed her, but he would not press the issue. They needed to discuss rules and freedoms, what would be asked of her and what would not. What she could ask of him. He striped out of his vestiments and pulled on a pair of simple sleep pants. He did not bother with a shirt. He stepped back into the room.

“I think we should discuss our expectations…” He tailed off, not seeing her immediately. He found her in the dimly lit bedchamber, sitting on her heels at the end of the oversized bed, sheets pooling around her hips. She was naked except for the sash from her wedding gown tied loosely about her waist. When she saw him enter she raised to her knees, spread wide, and the blanket fell from her lap, exposing her fully. Her teasing smile beckoned him closer.

Well, then.

All thoughts of planning left him as his blood spiked, and he went to her. He stopped when he stood at the edge of the bed, inches from her, and pointedly looked her offering up and down. He reevaluated his own underestimation of her beauty.

“Lovely…” he murmured. His hand dropped and she arched her back in anticipation, her nipples tight, but it was the tail of the embroidered sash he took. “Did you make it yourself?”

To his surprise he laughed and shoved him playfully, illiciting a snort from him. “I did, in fact.” He ran his thumb over the intricate stitches and she shifted her weight nervously. “Do you, um, know a lot about embroidery?”

“I don’t know much of the textile arts, I’m afraid,” he admitted, letting the silk slip through his fingers. “Perhaps you could teach me.”

She smiled coquettishly. “Oh, there’s a great deal I could teach you, Fen’Harel.” She sensually unknotted the sash.

He forced his eyes up to hers, determined to seem unaffected. “And here I thought I was wed to someone sweet and innocent.”

“Sweet? Sometimes. But innocent?” Keria flipped the sash up and over his head, where it settled like a scarf. “Certainly not.”

She tugged the ends of the sash and pulled him in for a kiss and he went easily, intrigued by this woman. He felt the brush of her lips but didn’t realize in time that she whispered an incantation, though his eyes flickered open just in time to see the hidden runes among the embroidered flowers light up, paralyzing him instantly. Her hand dashed beneath the covers and came up with a dagger that she plunged towards his chest.

The vallaslin on her face lit up as he activated it and staggered back, spell broken. She was frozen in place, mid-strike. His heart hammered in his chest in a way it hadn’t in decades, a mortal danger he rarely faced unwittingly.

No mortal blade could hurt him, but she would know that. Still shaken, he wrenched the dagger from her hand, careful not to nick either of them as she grunted, struggling to break free. He appraised the weapon, recognizing it easily even without the ravens in the hilt. It indeed would have been able to kill him, and was undoubtedly coated in enough poison to finish the job even if her aim ad been off. Smart.

“Dirthamen sent you, then?”

She still fought her bindings. He released her just enough that she could answer his question. “Yes.”

He tilted his head. She’d answered too quickly. He could see her tells, now that he knew what she really was. “A lie. Interesting. I’m only supposed to believe it was him.”

“You’re supposed to be dead,” snarled his darling wife.

“Ah, a fair point. Me, murdered on my wedding night, and Dirthamen to blame. To what end?” She answered by spitting at him and he paced as he thought it over, able to see how it would have played out — Mythal would exact justice before Elgar’nan could stop her, and Dirthamen’s twin would retaliate. The rest of the evanuris would choose sides. War, distrust, ample opportunity for more little assassinations.

A simple enough plan. One that damn near worked.

He lifted the dagger and it hovered in the air between them. With a twist of his hand he rendered the shining, poisonous thing inert, watching as it turned dull and clattered uselessly to the floor.

Keria looked like she was ready to tear him apart with her teeth instead. “It doesn’t matter what you do with me,” she growled. “Others will succeed where I have failed. You cannot stop us all! Your days are numbered, Dread Wolf — you and every other evil, murderous, slaving evanuris!”

Wordlessly he walked to a wardrobe, feeling her eyes following him as she waited for him to strike her down. How much of her shaking was from anger, he wondered, and how much from fear?

He pulled out a dressing robe and turned back to his bride, every inch of her radiating defiance despite the hold he still had on her.

He tossed her the robe. “Get dressed, vhenan. We need to talk.”

#solavellan #AU_gust #AU_gust_2021 #Solas #Keria Lavellan #I had a great time with this one ngl #:D

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dessarious · 4 years

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Guilt and Consequences

Okay, so this is just something that wouldn’t leave me alone. It has absolutely nothing to do with my other fics and may actually be a one shot. (We all know that’s not something I do but hey I can hope). Anyway, I’ve always hated the way Lila’s character was done. For so many reasons. The biggest issue I had was that there’s never any explanation for her personality. Sure, there is a small percentage of people that are straight up evil, but not many and it’s lazy writing to make a character, villain or otherwise, with absolutely no reason to be the way they are. If you’re not going to flesh out a character don’t make them a focal point period. Okay I’ll stop ranting now. This is in no way canon, nor is it meant to be.

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AO3 Next

“You told her what?!” Adrien flinched as Lila yelled in his face but she didn’t care. This idiot had completely destroyed all her plans with no thought what so ever. How had things gotten so bad?

“It doesn’t do any good to put more pressure on the situation. I told Marinette that you’d come around once you got the attention you wanted, so she should just let it go. Take the high road.” She was dangerously close to punching him in his sanctimonious face. The only thing stopping her was that getting arrested for assault wasn’t something she wanted to experience right now. Not to mention she now had to try and fix this insanity.

“That is quite possibly the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Ignoring things may work with paparazzi but that is not how you should deal with anything else. More often than not ignoring a problem just makes it worse.

“I’ve been ignoring Chloe’s bad behavior for years and she’s getting better.” Lila felt like her head was going to explode. As good as Adrien was in science he apparently didn’t understand causal relationships. The boy was far too dense to survive in the real world.

“As I understand things, Chloe didn’t start improving until Marinette stood up to her and Ladybug called her out on her bad behavior. Your enabling simply allowed her to continue what she was doing without consequences. People don’t change without a reason Adrien. Most need a pretty enticing incentive to do anything out of the norm.” She couldn’t deal with this anymore. Lila knew that she wasn’t going to make him see the error in his thinking. Everyone thought of Adrien as a ray of sunshine but she’d seen first hand how hard he held onto ideas even when all the evidence pointed to the opposite conclusion. Instead she turned and walked away as he yelled justifications at her back. She knew he wouldn’t actually follow her because his ride should be there any second. He wouldn’t risk getting in trouble, no matter how much he wanted her to agree with him.

She didn’t even know where she was going at this point, just wandering randomly while she thought. Everything had gotten so out of hand. Nothing like this had ever happened to her before and she had absolutely no idea how to fix it, or even if it could be fixed. She didn’t think so. It’s like the perfect storm of stupid, incompetence, and compliance had coalesced into this mass of insanity that she couldn’t see a way out of. Why did everything have to be so complicated? She’d done the same thing dozens of times with the exact same result. Why did things have to turn out so differently this time?

Before she knew it Lila was standing in front of a building she had no wish to enter. She knew she had to, but honestly she would rather step into traffic. Still, if there was any hope of salvaging things this was where she had to start. She just hoped she’d be able to get out some sort of explanation before they threw her out. She took a deep breath before opening the door.

“Good morning! What can I do for you dear?” Lila hesitated. Surely Marinette had told her parents about what was going on, right?

“Madam, my name is Lila Rossi. I was hoping to talk to Marinette.” There was absolutely no recognition in the woman's eyes. What the hell kind of alternate reality was she in? From everything she could gather Marinette had a great relationship with her parents. Even if she had let Adrien talk her into staying quiet at school, why would she hide what was going on from them?

“Of course, and you can call me Sabine dear, no need to be so formal.” She followed as Sabine led her up the stairs at the back of the bakery and into a little apartment. Lila had lived in a lot of places, but not one of them had ever said home the way this tiny space did. “Marinette’s room is up there. I have to get back down to the bakery, just knock before you go in.” Lila could only stare at the woman’s retreating back in panic. There was no way Marinette wanted her of all people anywhere near her room. She’d expected Sabine to get her to come out here. She looked back at the trapdoor with no idea how to proceed.

Eventually she worked up the nerve to climb the stairs. A few minutes and many attempts later, she managed a timid knock. There was a muffled ‘come in’ and Lila almost had a heart attack. Now what? Against her better judgement she slowly opened the door and poked her head up. She saw Marinette hunched over her sewing machine, not paying any attention to who had entered. But what caught her attention was the bruise on Marinette’s cheek and a strip of gauze around her forehead. Lila’s anger from earlier reignited with a passion and before she knew it she was in the room standing directly behind the girl.

“How could you listen to that moron’s advice?” She winced the moment the words came out of her mouth. That was not how she wanted to start this. Marinette jumped and actually fell off the chair. Lila flinched back at the fear in the girls eyes when they registered who she was.

“Wh- What are you doing here?” Marinette’s eyes were darting every which way, looking for escape routes or something to defend herself with most likely. It hurt knowing that this was all her fault.

“I… I didn’t mean to scare you.” Then why did you yell at her dumbass? “I’m here because…” Why exactly was she here? She really should have planned this out, or at least had any idea of what she was going to say. “I’m here because I need to apologize to you, and I think you deserve an explanation for why I apparently destroyed your life.” Marinette’s eyes widened in shock and disbelief. Lila couldn’t blame her.

“You want to apologize to me?” The skeptical tone caused her to break eye contact. It was well deserved but Lila didn’t even know where to start. She was a selfish creature by nature so apologies didn’t come naturally, but this was something that needed to be done.

“Yes. I’m sorry for everything that’s happened to you because of me. I never thought…” She couldn’t continue. No apology and no explanation was good enough for what Marinette had gone through because of this mess. Lila didn’t even know everything because apparently the class had been bullying Marinette for over a month but they’d kept it from her because she was too ‘nice’ and wouldn’t have approved. How did you even begin to make up for something like that?

“You never thought what? That your plan to take away all my friends would affect me? That you making my school life a living hell would hurt me?” The girl sounded pissed and Lila couldn’t blame her but the tone sent her into her defensive mode anyway.

“I never thought anyone would believe the garbage coming out of my mouth!” Marinette blinked at her in confusion, all the fight suddenly gone.

“What?” Lila sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. Where did she even start? None of this was going to make sense to Marinette. Honestly she wasn’t certain it made sense to her anymore either.

“I should probably start at the beginning.” Marinette motioned her to continue. “My mom is a diplomat, that wasn’t a lie. She’s something of a fixer. Basically when a situation has escalated too far they bring her in to smooth things over. Because of that she gets moved a lot more often than most. I think the longest we’ve lived in one place is about nine months.”

“And that makes it okay for you to lie and bully people for no reason?” Bully? She hadn’t considered that before. From Marinette’s perspective she understood why she said it though. Especially after the bathroom incident. Lila winced.

“I didn’t mean to… The lying has a purpose but I’ve never had to escalate things before. It’s not an excuse, I should have considered things better. I just…” She just what? She’d just been so focused on her goal that she hadn’t bothered to look at the collateral damage. Hadn’t even considered that there would be. “Look just let me explain, then you can yell at me.” If she didn’t get this out now she wasn’t sure she’d be able to.

“Fine.” Lila shifted nervously as Marinette’s full attention was focused on listening to her. Having that much animosity directed at her was extremely uncomfortable.

“So when I was little the moves were more frequent. Because of that my mother hired tutors and enrolled me in online classes rather than try to attend school. There didn’t seem to be any point in having me adapt to a new place and teachers every couple of months. About three years ago things slowed down a little and she decided it would be good for me to socialize with other kids. Despite my best efforts, I was enrolled in school. I hated it.” That was a vast understatement. The curriculum wasn’t advanced enough and the kids were all immature and annoying. The teachers were boring too. Not to mention that she was used to learning at her own pace and having the ability to choose subjects that actually interested her. School was basically torture.

“I wasn’t happy and told my mother so but she thought I just needed time to adjust so she basically told me to suck it up and deal with it.” She’d had a perfectly researched and reasoned argument but her mother wouldn’t even listen to her. “A couple days later a boy was annoying me. He refused to leave me alone after I’d told him many times to stop and eventually I snapped and punched him in the nose.” It had felt really good at the time.

“Really?” Marinette sounded somewhere between horrified and amused and was obviously trying to keep a straight face.

“Really. I was sent to the principal and he called my mother. I was expelled because they had a zero tolerance policy for violence. My mother was not happy with me and lectured me about solving my problems in a different way, but she let me homeschool again because she wasn’t certain how long we’d be there and didn’t want to go through the effort of finding another school. I thought I’d won, until the next time we moved and she put me in school again.” Once again she’d argued to be allowed to stay with homeschooling. Once again her mother had ignored her.

“Let me guess, you just walked up and punched someone the first day?” Lila let out a snort of amusement and shook her head.

“No. Mother made it very clear that physical violence had far too many repercussions, so I had to get creative. I read the school rules trying to find the easiest way to get thrown out. I tried disrupting class constantly, but that just landed me in detention. So then I tried stealing. That got me thrown out quickly enough, but it also could have had legal ramifications that I didn’t understand at the time. My mother made it very clear to me after though.” Yet another fun conversation where her mother talked at her and wouldn’t let her get a word in edgewise. Lila couldn’t understand how she could be such a good diplomat and still have no idea how to listen to her own daughter.

“So you got to homeschool again?” She blinked at Marinette for a moment before nodding. She’d gotten lost in her own thoughts. “But I’m going to assume it didn’t last.”

“No. Every time we move she tries again. I don’t understand why she bothers. The next few schools I refined my technique. I found out that lying was the easiest and least complicated way to get thrown out quickly. They just don’t want to deal with it. Each school has slightly different thresholds but I found that obvious misinformation coupled with lying about medical conditions usually got me back home within a week. I thought I had it down to a science, until we moved here.”

“So wait… you’ve just been trying to get expelled this entire time?” Marinette was looking at her like she’d grown another head. Lila wasn’t surprised. To anyone else what she did sounded insane and maybe it was a little. But it worked and she was a very results driven person. “What about the Akumatizations?”

“What about them?” Lila couldn’t figure out what that had to do with anything.

“If you wanted to be found out, why were you so upset you became Volpina and Chameleon?” Lila winced. She’d watched the limited footage and remembered how she’d reacted after. She’d been disoriented and confused and had just lashed out.

“I was expecting Adrien to call me out. The necklace I showed him came from his father’s line after all. I misjudged how involved he was in the industry apparently. I wasn’t expecting or prepared for an actual Superhero to call me out. I’ll admit I reacted badly, but in my defense I didn’t know then how little it took for Hawkmoth to Akumatize someone.” That had been a less than pleasant realization. Maybe she should try and apologize to Ladybug after this as well. It wasn’t the hero’s fault that Lila couldn’t deal with normal social interaction and lashed out when she felt threatened.

“And Chameleon?” Lila winced at the soft question. She still didn’t know what she’d been thinking when she’d threatened Marinette. Well that wasn’t completely true but she didn’t realize how far she’d gone until she saw the Akuma.

“You were the only person who seemed to have a spine and didn’t believe the bullshit I came up with. I was trying to push you into reporting me to the teacher or convincing everyone else that I was lying. I’ve never been in a situation where people actually thought that my lies were real before. Looking back it was a stupid thing to do.” And wasn’t that an understatement. “After I left I realized how harsh I’d been and was coming back to make sure you were okay when the Akuma phased through the wall and straight into me. Apparently my being mad at myself for overreacting was enough to let him in, again.”

“Why keep lying though? You had to have realized it wasn’t working at some point so why keep doing it?” That was a really good question and she didn’t have a good answer. Lila ran a hand through her hair in frustration.

“At first I thought that I just needed bigger lies. I also expected the teacher or principal to call my mother and verify the ‘disabilities’ I said I had. Other than that I guess it was just habit. It’s what I’ve always done in that situation and I didn’t know what else to do if I’m being honest. Everyday I’d tell myself that today was when everyone would see through the bullshit. That’s also why I started lying about you.” Once again, in hindsight it was an extremely stupid move. Marinette looked confused.

“You’ve been lying to the class about me thinking it would make them realize what you were doing?” Yeah, it was a really stupid plan.

“Yes. I did my research. Everyone loved you. You were the class rep for crying out loud! I thought that lying about you would get them to at least think things through. I mean they’re supposed to be your friends. They’re supposed to know your character well enough to question it when someone says you’re doing something so completely off track from your normal. I didn’t expect them to believe me without question and I absolutely didn’t expect them to retaliate and hide it from me.”

Marinette’s head snapped up in shock. She was looking for something in Lila’s eyes but Lila wasn’t sure what it was. The girl's expression softened suddenly and before she knew it, Lila was on the receiving end of a crushing hug. What the hell?

“If you’re trying to suffocate me there are easier ways to do it.” The words just popped out and Lila winced again. So maybe her mom had a point about her needing more social interaction. It still didn’t mean she should be forced to endure school. She felt Marinette let out an amused huff and pulled back.

“So what brought on this need to come clean?” Lila’s eyes automatically went to Marinette’s injuries before snapping away to the wall.

“Alya slipped and told me what they did last night. I went to Adrien first since he knew Ladybug called me out to try and get him to make the others see sense, or at least help you protect yourself. That’s when he told me what he said to you.” She felt her anger resurfacing just thinking about that conversation.

“That’s what you meant.” Lila just blinked at Marinette in confusion. “When you first got here you yelled at me about taking a moron’s advice.” Lila winced at the reminder but nodded. “Apparently you’re not the only one prone to making mistakes and snap judgments.” Her tone was dry but still held a trace of amusement. Lila wasn’t certain what to make of it.

“I’ll text my mother and have her come here after work so I can explain what’s going on to her and your parents.” It was the least she could do. There was no way to fix this, but at least she could come clean.

“You can’t do that! What if one of them gets Akumatized over it?” Lila just frowned at Marinette. She couldn’t be serious. Her worried expression said otherwise.

“You can’t keep letting people hurt you because you’re scared how they’ll react. Hawkmoth is going to keep using people and that’s not your fault. It’s not your job to make everyone happy, especially not at the expense of your physical and mental well being. They need to know what’s going on so you can get out of that toxic school environment.” Marinette actually rolled her eyes.

“Just because you don’t like school doesn’t mean it’s a toxic environment.” Lila stared at her in shock. Marinette was serious. The phrase ‘what the hell’ was quickly becoming her new mantra.

“You’re kidding right? Your teacher avoids her job at all costs by making the class police itself. She blames the victims for things they have no control over because it’s easier than actually confronting someone. The principal hasn’t once tried to call my mother to verify absences or illness. That’s not even including your classmates who have gone full Lord of the Flies over a bunch of lies.” How could she possibly think any of this was okay? Marinette seemed confused as she mulled over Lila’s words. How long had this shit been going on?

“I suppose it may seem that way to someone walking into it, but I think your prejudice against school in general is part of your viewpoint. Things have always worked themselves out before and I’m sure everyone will come around eventually.” She was going to have an aneurysm. Apparently Marinette was just as bad as Adrien at holding on to things despite the evidence. She reached out and gently touched the gauze on Marinette’s forehead.

“They could have killed you. Alya especially is prone to acting without thinking things through or caring about the consequences. It’s why she posted all those ridiculous interviews. Honestly I’m surprised she hasn’t been sued yet. I took care of the site though.” She wasn’t even paying attention to the words coming out of her mouth, too focused on where Marinette’s blood was seeping through. This was all her fault.

“What do you mean you took care of the site?” Marinette’s tone was off but she couldn’t place the tone.

“Hacking is one of the things that I actually like doing. I took down everything with me and purged it from her harddrive. I also took down that stupid picture of Ladybug and Chat kissing after Oblivio. It’s not much but it’s as much of an apology I could manage to Ladybug even if she never knows who did it.” Alya had ranted for days about the Heroine’s denial. It was beyond annoying at the time.

“Why do you want to apologize to Ladybug?” Lila blinked at her before letting out a sigh.

“After my Akumatizations I said some things… let’s just say I wasn’t in a great headspace. I tend to go feral when I feel threatened. Add that to the whole lying and keeping in character to get expelled… She has enough to deal with without hormonal teenagers mouthing off at her.” Marinette was studying her again and Lila couldn’t read her expression at all. It made her more nervous than she would have thought.

“I still don’t think we should tell our parents. Maybe we can turn things around ourselves.” Damn it. The girl was out of her mind.

“That school is a breeding ground for bullies and narcissists. The administration needs to be held accountable for their neglect or who knows how many others could get hurt. There needs to be consequences or things will never change.” There was no way they could fix this themselves. She wasn’t even sure teams of lawyers and therapists could fix this at this point. Marinette was frowning again. Lila wanted to convince her this was the right thing, but if push came to shove she would tell the Dupain-Chengs the truth so they could do something about this. Her mother would just want to bury it to keep Lila out of trouble. Marinette’s parents would do what they had to to protect their daughter, at least she hoped they would.

“I don’t want anyone else getting hurt… Maybe we can talk to the principal. If we say we’re going to look into a lawsuit or call the police, maybe he’ll change.” Lila rolled her eyes.

“He won’t take anything seriously coming from two teenagers. Look, I realize your self preservation instincts aren’t very strong but you need to tell your parents what’s going on. If nothing else you can transfer schools. Honestly, you probably should.” She looked devastated at the thought and Lila’s guilt came back full force. She knew that she couldn’t control the actions of others, but if she hadn’t worked them up they never would have gone after Marinette of all people. They say ignorance is bliss for a reason. Marinette probably would have been perfectly happy not knowing what her classmates were capable of.

“I can’t just leave my friends.”

“What friends? The only person who has bothered to tell me to back off is Chloe. Something about you being more fun to square off with when you actually have a spine.” That girl was at least what she seemed. Lila could respect that far more than Adrien’s fake personality. In his defense she didn’t think he was doing it out of spite, he’d just been playing a part most of his life and probably had no idea who he was, let alone how to be himself.

“They didn’t mean it. I’m sure once they understand the situation they’ll calm down.” There had to be a way to get through to her, but Lila was getting far too frustrated to think things through properly. As usual, her mouth went into gear before her brain.

“If we tell them what’s going on now they’ll just transfer all that anger to me, assuming they don’t think you threatened me into backing up your story that is. Sadly, I have a feeling that it’ll be the second.” She would be fine with the first honestly. It would give her a reason to have her mother pull her out of school. Unfortunately given the class’s track record she couldn’t chance it. Alya could easily whip everyone else into a frenzy if she decided Marinette was forcing Lila to back her version of events. The girl hadn’t been able to find the truth yet so there was no reason to think she would come to her senses now.

“I suppose you’re right. I wouldn’t want them going after you.” She couldn’t have heard that right.

“What?”

“What you did was wrong but you don’t deserve to be bullied for it. I don’t want to be part of the reason that would happen.” Her supposed friends attacking her didn’t phase her at all, but the thought of those same friends bullying the person who’d set them on her in the first place caused her to pause. Lila would never understand that mindset.

“So can we at least talk to your parents about what’s happening? This has gone way past too far and I really don’t think we’ll be able to stop it by ourselves. Please.” Marinette finally nodded and Lila felt a tightness in her chest loosen. It wasn’t enough, but it was a start.

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#miraculous ladybug #marinette dupen chang #lila rossi #adrien agreste

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loser-writings · 4 years

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Kazuichi Souda Headcanons

{@sally-wonders} (┛◉Д◉)┛彡┻━┻ I JUST SAW THE DANGANRONPA STUFF AND I AM SCREAMING! dlsfhlfhksg I dont even know where to start, so, at first I was wondering if you have any headcanons for my man Kazuichi, I love him so much! I always wondered how he would be into an actually relationship, because the inflatuation he had with Sonia was a thing, but also serving to compensate in his low self steam, even if he was an ultimate, he also has the historic of abuse and bully by their piers and all with the sharp teeth and pink hair to try and look cool and all that as well, also he would have to deal with all that happened in dispair island (what wouldnt i give to know how they dealt with that man :'3), especially acepting the fact that Sônia does not like him. Because of the whole dream girl with blonde hair and he kinda projects this idea of her instead of herself. Jqrjjgwrj sorry I babble a lot hehe

I hope you enjoy this long list of a variety of headcanons. These may not hit all of the points you were asking, but I hope this is satisfactory!

・・・・✪General Headcanons✪ ・・・・

Kazuichi is a very anxious person so he is constantly fiddling with something. Little electronics, his wrench or tools he has on hands, or his fingers. If he can’t mess with something, his anxiety goes through the roof.

He can read in English! He taught himself how to read English so he could read American comic books before they’re officially translated. He also can understand English since he watched so many English action movies. He can speak it, but it can be broken and his accent is very strong.

He can actually sew. Since he learned by watching his mom, he can fix and alter clothing. He can also sew and throw together blankets and stuffed animals. He actually owns a small sewing machine. It isn’t expensive or amazing by any means, but it can get the job done.

He spends a large chunk of his money on keeping up with his hair and keeping his contacts in check. His hair grows extremely fast so his roots show, and he has a horrible habit of sleeping in his contacts since he can’t stand his glasses.

When you catch him off guard, he just lies about what he is doing. He doesn’t mean to, but it is just a natural reaction since his dad would get mad at him no matter what his answer was. Because of this, you have to give him a moment to calm down and go through the 3 different answers he has before he can actually say what’s going on. This also happens if he is on his computer or his phone. He naturally hides the screen, even if he is just looking at car parts or how to fix a certain thing.

He can be a bit perverted and oblivious to somebody's flaws if he finds himself becoming attracted to them. Despite this, he is honestly quite the sweetheart and would have a heart attack if somebody were to return his feelings.

He has pretty bad trust issues and this can cause tension between him and others. This also causes him to believe things that aren’t always true based off of his distrust alone.

He doesn’t actually like his appearance, even after he changed it. He originally changed it to keep away bullies and get the attention of women, but when he looks in the mirror, he doesn’t exactly like it. He didn’t mind his black hair or his normal eye color, he just hated his glasses.

Will flinch if someone raises their hand at him because of his fathers past abuse. He can’t help but flinch, and this is horrible with men who are taller than him. Safe to say that Gundhams mannerisms and weird poses aren't appreciated.

・・・・✪Relationship Headcanons✪ ・・・・

As stated before if someone were to return his feelings, he would be so lost on what to do. He never had anybody treat him with much kindness and the fact that someone he admires likes him back is just mind boggling to him.

I headcanon him personally to be Bisexual. He may have a physical lea for women, but he does find himself genuinely attracted to men as well (@Hajime) I think the big thing that decides if he likes you or not is if he thinks he can trust you.

Due to the past abuse and issues regarding friends and classmates, he would need constant reassurance. He will have sudden doubts and will become extremely anxious at the idea of you leaving him for a variety of reasons. He will ask if you want him to change his appearance or something about his personality, and it never fails that he is shocked if you say you love how he is.

He can sometimes get lost in his childlike fantasies. He will change his personality at times and make himself believe things that aren’t true. The best thing to do when this happens is to just give him a quick kiss on the cheek and remind him that you are you, and not some fantasy. He will apologize and snap out of it (For the most part)

He isn’t the best at initiating things. He would do better with someone who is more willing to make the first move. Be the one to grab his hand to hold it, Open your arms so he can snuggle against your chest, Cup his cheeks to pull him into a sweet kiss, Open the door for him and press your hand against his lower back in public areas so he feels more calm. He really would appreciate it.

Some of his favorite dates are the ones that result in tons of affection. Building blanket forts before having an action movie marathon is his favorite thing. It always results in the two of you tangled impossibly close to each other. If he is the one being held, having you play with the messily chopped locks instantly has him weak. He will rest against your chest while watching the movies, looking up to steal kisses and nip at your exposed skin in an attempt to steal your attention away from the screen. If he is the one holding you, your hair will be played with and expect him to caress your body a lot. If he gets distracted from the movie, he will let his eyes and hands wonder. It’s not in a perverse way, but more curious.

He actually studies how your body moves and how you feel. He is the kind of guy who is very interested in seeing how your “Parts” move and how things work. It’s not perverted (Usually) but instead it’s very sweet in an unusual way. He will find out unusual things he loves about you by watching how you move. Like how you stretch to reach things on a tall shelf, or how your body curls up into itself when your cold. Just how you move and your body language is something that always has Kazuichi staring.

If he can’t be with you physically, expect many phone calls and video calls. He calls you every time he misses your voice or feels himself starting to get anxious. The most common phone calls become the ones that happen before bed. Kazuichi gets extremely anxious when he is alone or at his house with his dad. Because of this, it becomes a routine where he calls you before bed and falls asleep on the phone with you. If you love to sing, sing and play instruments on the phone to soothe him. If you like to read, read to him until you hear his soft snores on the other line. If you like to ramble, ramble to him as he hums along til he is asleep.

Also don’t hang up. Seriously, he will hang up in the morning. If he has a nightmare, or something happens, he finds comfort knowing that you are right there when he needs you most.

He doesn’t mind chasing after you, but please let him have something so he knows that all of the chasing is worth it. This is the man you go to if you want somebody to control. He just wants your love and attention, even if you are just using him. If he falls for you during the killing game, he won’t hesitate to kill for you.

・・・・✪NSFW Headcanons✪ ・・・・

Aged 18+ and Kink discussion below this post

Souda loves to leave hickeys and love bites. He thinks they’re so sexy and attractive, and will leave them all over you if you let him. He also ADORES having you mark all over him and will whine if you tease him by pulling away before a mark can be made. If you really want to make him feel loved, make heart shaped hickeys all over him. He will cry because he feels so loved.

He is a switch with a more submissive lean, but he does have his more dominant moments. If he is being submissive, expect him to whine and cry about things a lot. He can be a total brat, but its so worth it when you get to hear him moan and beg for more. He may not scream, but he is quite loud.. If he is being dominant, he growls and groans a lot. He doesn’t mean to, he just gets so caught up in the moment that he doesn’t even notice the noises he makes.

He has ended up with you in his lap in his car a few times. He just can’t help it. The most memorable time was at the drive in theater. You both were in the back and it just ended up with your hands being bound by a seat belt as he sat between your legs until he couldn’t handle waiting anymore.

He CLEARLY is into body worship. He loves watching how you react as his hands sit and press themselves against your body. He will compliment absolutely everything about you, kissing your skin as much as possible, and let his hands and eyes do all of the work.

He is so into oral, both giving and receiving. He can sit between your legs pleasing you until you are shaking and can’t handle anymore. Just how you taste is so intoxicating with him, and he always is trying to get more. If you are sucking him off, he will pant and moan and whine the whole time. His hand is tangled in your hair or the sheets until he can’t take it any more and cums. If you swallow, he will be so turned on, but he also loves cumming on you

Kazuichi will hump and grind against anything. Your ass, your thighs, a pillow, clothing, the bed, anything. He has a high sex drive, so he has to take care of it often. Even when he is sleeping, he will grind against you if he is having a dirty dream. Hopefully you don’t mind, because he is actually quite embarrassed when this happens.

He has a fantasy of you waking him up with oral. He has quite a few dirty dreams, so the idea of you helping him out while he wakes up is a dream for him.

Praise kink. Seriously. Praise this man. He will CRY if you constantly praise him during sex. He was completely unaware of how much it would effect him during sex.

#kazuichi #kazuichi souda #souda x reader #kazuichi souda x reader #Kazuichi x reader #Danganronpa #danganronpa kazuichi #Danganronpa Imagine #Danganronpa x reader #danganronpa headcanons #Kazuichi headcanons #Kazuichi souda headcanons #sdr2 #sdr2 kazuichi #sdr2 x reader #sdr2 imagines #sdr2 headcanons #N/sfw #Kazuichi n/sfw

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pain-somnia · 4 years

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ssm 2k20 day 1: stuck with you Title: us and these walls Rating: M (for sexual content) Disclaimer Day’s Notes: this prompt was selected by my patrons on Patreon and I decided to make it a modern au...a quarantine au lmao so here’s a smutty quarantine au for y’all I hope it’s enjoyable. As a heads up SasoObi is mentioned often throughout the fic and it’s a minor pairing...well it’s Sasori/Obito/Third Kazekage but they’re background. I mostly put them in there for Kitty who made me fall in love with SasoObi lol this is super late but I hadn’t planned on any of my entries to be long and I failed ‘cause this is long. This fic was almost longer than it is.

us and these walls

It started with a couple of White Claws. And it ended with Sakura in the wrong bed and severely under dressed.

Sakura woke up with a start, giving an unattractive snort before clutching her aching head. The throbbing around her eyes delayed her in realizing that there was an arm slung around her waist and something hard poking at her ass.

No, Sakura grumbled inwardly. No no no no.

She already knew exactly who was in bed with her. There was only one person that she had been stuck with for the past two weeks in her cousin Sasori’s house.

Obito, Sasori’s husband, had a younger cousin that she was always grouped up with at family events because he was the closest to her age, only being eight months older than her. Other than sitting next to each other at brunch or at holiday meals, the both of them didn’t really talk much to each other. Not that Sakura didn’t want to.

Sasuke Uchiha just made it so difficult to get to know him as anything other than Obito’s ridiculously hot cousin.

Two weeks ago, Sasori had asked Obito to call Sasuke over to fix the sink in the kitchen. Sakura wasn’t sure what it was exactly that Sasuke did for a living, only that he had remodeled parts of the house before Sakura moved into her cousin’s house and he may or may not have also been the bartender in the blurry photos Ino had sent her one night many weeks ago.

Because Sasori was the way he was, Obito had called Sasuke at eleven at night and for some reason the man had responded and was awake at the time. Instead of letting him go home, Obito begged Sasuke to stay the night in the guest room.

And then the quarantine order was issued.

Somehow, Obito was able to convince Mikoto Uchiha that it was best for Sasuke to remain at his house for the quarantine. Somehow it had worked and of course Sasuke had no choice but to listen to his mother. And somehow the two of them ended up stuck living together alone because Sasori had packed his and Obito’s bags and took off.

Whoever the fuck the man that went by the moniker “Third” was, Sakura had to assume he was loaded. The morning of the second day of quarantine all she had was a note left by her cousin about where he and his husband went off to and three days later there was a post to his Instagram about how he and Obito were living it up by the pool at their boyfriend’s mansion.

It was no wonder Sasori had ditched her. She wasn’t that surprised he had. Sakura felt more betrayed by Obito.

Warm breath fanned against her temple and the arm slung around her waist pulled her in closer. Sakura adjusted herself so Sasuke’s cock nestled between her thighs instead of digging into her behind and Sasuke released a content sigh, curling around her more.

God.

This wasn’t like her. She didn’t have casual sex. Sakura had been suffering from a three year dry spell ever since she had ended her last relationship. Sakura wasn’t the kind to go out and find someone just for the sake of hooking up. She could almost hear Ino and Karin chanting in her head, “One of us. One of us. One of us.”

“Anything we need to do today?” Sasuke mumbled into her hair. Sakura tensed up. She hadn’t noticed that he had been awake.

“We already went shopping yesterday for groceries and the essentials.”

She and Sasuke tried to stock up on everything they needed the day before. They had almost ended up going home with nothing when a middle aged man without a mask on got too close and Sasuke opened up a disinfectant spray they were going to buy and sprayed him in the face.

They had also stopped at the liquor store because nothing said essential like alcohol.

Which is exactly how they ended up in their current predicament.

Sakura wasn’t sure how to take Sasuke’s behavior. He didn’t seem to mind that they had woken up naked and spooning and was even nuzzling her hair. She wasn’t opposed to the bit of affection but she would have preferred it happened when she wasn’t feeling nauseous and had a headache.

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Sakura mumbled, disentangling herself from Sasuke’s hold and rushing to the hallway bathroom.

She was dry heaving and spitting up bile for all of a few seconds when she felt Sasuke’s presence next to her on the floor. He stroked her hair, pulling it back away from her face until her heaving stopped.

“Thanks for putting pants back on.”

“Yeah. Here.” Sasuke handed her a black shirt that must have been the one he had been wearing the night before. Sakura pulled it over her head and tugged it so it covered her until midway down her thighs.

Sakura was grateful that Sasuke had the mind not to turn the light on in the bathroom; the open bathroom door casted a strip of light from the hallway.

“So…” She opened the conversation, not entirely sure what it was that she was trying to say. She blanked out, not having an actual thought beyond her ass being cold from the tile floor and so she shifted so she was sitting on the fluffy bathroom mat.

“Do we, uh, need to get anything?”

Sakura scrunched up her nose in confusion. She was too hungover for conversation. Sasuke looked at her pointedly, raising a brow and it finally dawned on Sakura what he was getting at.

“Oh, no. No. I’m on the pill.” Sakura averted her gaze, chewing on her lower lip in discomfort. “And I’m clean.”

“Same.”

The both of them sat on the bathroom floor in silence for an awkward amount of time before Sasuke cleared his throat and said he needed to make a call.

Well, this is shit, Sakura groaned inwardly, pulling her knees to her chest and running her hands down her face.

Sakura kept herself busy with preparing orders for her online store. She was fortunate enough to be self-employed but there was going to be a delay with her orders because the mailman kept missing her scheduled pickups.

“Do you think Sasori would kill me for this?” Sasuke asked her, putting down his drill.

Sakura looked up from her sewing machine and up at the racks Sasuke had made for her bolts of fabric. He wasn’t able to go to any of his jobs and ended up using his free time on small projects in the house. Sasuke had helped her organize everything by creating a proper work studio in the spare room that was originally Obito’s exercise room. Sasuke had moved all of the equipment into the garage.

“Oh, definitely.” Sakura went back to stitching the pair of tulle panties with an embroidered butterfly motif. “But you put a nifty set of cubbies in his mud room.”

Sasuke moved around her to measure for a set of shelves she had wanted.

“You’re making panties?” He raised a brow at Sakura’s current project.

“Yeah they’re a parallel set to that dress.” She pointed at a mannequin with a tulle sundress with the same butterfly motif. “My shop’s name is Naughty & Nice. That’s the nice and this,” she lifted the finished pair of panties, “is the naughty.”

“Those are too cute to be naughty,” Sasuke scoffed.

“Well I also have those.” Sakura pointed to a different mannequin dressed in a custom leather harness.

“Huh.”

“Yup.”

That was how the past two weeks had gone. Sakura would work and Sasuke would exercise or keep busy making improvements to Sasori’s house. Sometimes Sakura would find him playing video games, speaking to his friends over his headset.

Sasuke had to break his lease with his landlord. It was the loudest Sakura had heard him as he argued with the man about granting him an extension to pay his rent the following month. It hadn’t sounded good and the man couldn’t be reasoned with.

Unfortunately for Sasuke, his parents thought it would be better if he continued to stay at his cousin’s house. Due to the kind of jobs his parents had—police captain and nurse—they thought it would be safer for Sasuke to stick to the house where the only other occupant didn’t leave unless she absolutely needed to.

Sasuke had placed a majority of his belongings in storage and brought over his cat and anything he thought he would need and the guest bedroom became his.

At some point Sakura became curious about his finances. He had no job that she knew of that he could do from home, but he still had money for all of the takeout that he had been ordering until Sakura had put an end to it and told him that she would cook enough for the both of them as long as he helped provide the groceries. She was used to cooking for three anyway and Sasuke ate enough to make up for Sasori and Obito.

They were the only two occupants of the house and had to work around each other. It forced them to communicate beyond the uncomfortable small talk they were accustomed to.

Sakura found it easier to carry discussions without the presence of their family members, especially that of Mikoto Uchiha who always gave her soft yet sly smiles whenever she stood or sat closely to Sasuke. It was a calculative expression she was used to seeing on her older cousin whenever he wanted something and knew he was going to get it.

As much as she wouldn’t have minded to get to know Sasuke better, Sakura was sure that whatever his mother wanted to happen wasn’t what Sasuke wanted. They had worked well together and cohabitated amicably, but the closest they got to anything beyond that was a drunken tryst that she wasn’t even sure was going to be repeated sober.

He fucked up. He had fucked up.

It started with simple boredom. Sasuke had been stuck living with his cousin’s husband’s pretty cousin because Sasori couldn’t be bothered staying in his own house during a quarantine and had blackmailed Sasuke into playing babysitter.

They had been watching a marathon of slasher films and decided on turning it into a drinking game. Sakura curled up on the small extension of the L shaped couch with her pack of White Claws and Sasuke laid out on the other end with a pack of Ithacas. Somehow that had ended up with Sasuke joining Sakura on the extension and his fingers curled inside of her panties, stroking her as she clutched onto his arm and released high pitched cries of joy.

He’s not sure how they got to a bed, but he wouldn’t doubt it if he had just thrown her tiny body over his shoulder and carried her to the guest room that had become his temporary room.

That wasn’t how Sasuke had planned on dealing with Sakura and his ridiculous crush on her that wouldn’t go away.

It hadn’t taken much convincing for him to come fix the kitchen sink in the middle of the night. Besides Sasori blackmailing him because of his OnlyFans account, Obito had sweetened the deal by mentioning that if he stayed over he would be fed a free breakfast. Obito was a mediocre cook but free was free and he would be able to spend some time in Sakura’s company without his mother hovering with her knowing smiles.

He hadn’t expected to wake up to the smell of something cooking and walking into the kitchen to find Sakura wearing nothing but a baggy cream colored button down cable knit cardigan that hit mid thigh and a pair of black thigh high socks.

Sakura hadn’t expected him either. She had thought she was home alone because of a note from Sasori explaining that he and Obito had taken off to their boyfriend’s place. Sakura had called Sasori immediately for answers, but he didn’t pick up his phone.

At least, that’s what her flushed face and drawn down brows made it seem like. He hadn’t been paying attention to the phone calls she was trying to make but to the curve of her pert breasts that peeked from the v-cut of her cardigan. Sakura hadn’t been wearing a bra and he just wanted to drag his tongue up her sternum.

He was distracted from those dangerous thoughts when he received a phone call from his mother about the quarantine orders and how Obito had already told her that Sasuke was staying at his house. Sasuke didn’t have much room for an argument, especially considering his landlord Kakuzu wouldn’t give him an extension for his rent and Sasuke had had enough and broke his lease.

He cursed Kiba for moving out to live with the blondie he had been dating for the past few months and had only made it official a month ago. Kiba had been mostly staying over there and using Sasuke’s and his place for storage so it had made sense for him to officially move in but that had left Sasuke with paying the full rent on his own because he refused to move.

That decision was biting him in the ass now that he couldn’t bartend or go do some jobs as a contractor. He was heavily relying on his not safe for work accounts where he posted nudes for pay.

And speaking of not being safe for work…

It was three days after the drunken bedroom incident and Sakura needed help taking photographs for her online shop.

When Sakura had told him what she did for work he had been impressed that she had owned her own business and at how talented she was. When she told him that usually Sasori modeled her prototypes and she took the photos for her site, he was slightly disturbed. Looking at Sakura wearing her dresses and her lingerie, he couldn’t imagine Sasori wearing the same things and it looking as well as it did on her.

There may be some bias though. He was actually attracted to Sakura and he and Sasori were more enemies than they were friends and unfortunately related because Sasori was married to Obito.

“Move your arm back like this,” Sasuke instructed Sakura as she posed in a tulle panty and bra set that left nothing to the imagination. The butterfly patterns tastefully covered her nipples but didn’t do much to completely hide the small, pink thatch of hair between her thighs.

He was supposed to be focusing on showing off the lingerie to advantage, but his eyes kept drifting to the small bruises scattered on Sakura’s inner thighs and the red blooms of kiss marks that made her body look well loved.

“I can edit those out,” Sakura remarked shyly when she noticed where his gaze was directed. “I do it for Sasori for my site. He prefers keeping them though for his personal collection of photos.”

“I didn’t need to know that about Sasori.”

Sakura laughed at his discomfort and took her camera back from him. “Thanks again for the help.”

“Any time,” Sasuke muttered, watching her walk through the living room and down the hall to her bedroom.

Sasuke had the terrible━wonderful━habit of going without a shirt and exposing his tattoos when he was stuck inside all day.

It had been barely five days since their drunken mistake and the hickeys all over her body and bruises on her inner thighs and hips from the rough pounding she must have taken had yet to completely heal. Which also meant that the scratch marks on Sasuke’s shoulder blades, the hickeys all over his neck, and the bite mark on his left shoulder were still visible as well.

They hadn’t discussed what had happened. They spent the first day in an awkward state of avoidance and kept to their respective areas in the house. The second day had them going back to normal and just silently agreeing not to mention it.

But the curiosity was there now. It was there when they shared meals. It was there when he walked in from the garage after working out. It was there when he lazily strummed his guitar aimlessly. It was there when she finished her yoga routine and he was waiting to use the living room to watch or play Call of Duty.

It was there when they sat around reading in the living room and drinking tea. It was there when he made sure she took proper breaks instead of keeping herself hunched over her sewing and embroidery machines. It was there when she randomly heard his drill or hammer or the dragging of planks of wood and other materials into the house when he found something to fix or improve.

The curiosity became a yearning when she found him laid out on the couch, watching some aquarium building show. Sasuke just looked so cozy and she just wanted to curl up with him. Or straddle him.

Straddling him was definitely a favorable option.

Sasuke was immediately on alert, body stiffening under Sakura as she settled herself over him, straddling his hips. His hands slid across the sides of her bare thighs and over her small cotton shorts, until he gripped her hips through her thick oversized pullover.

He watched her warily as she pressed her hands on his stomach. His abdominal muscles twitched under her fingers as she slid her hands up his stomach.

“I was thinking…” Sakura’s cheeks heated up as Sasuke’s hands slid under her sweater and he took hold of her waist, his thumbs massaging circles on her skin. “Do you want to try it sober?”

Sasuke sat up faster than Sakura had expected him to move. In lieu of an answer to her question, he gripped the back of her neck, fisting her hair still damp from her shower, and pulled her closer to slant his mouth over hers.

There had been heated stares and what Sakura had hoped were looks of longing. Here was proof that she had been right.

Sakura sighed contently as Sasuke palmed her breasts, squeezing and fondling her with his large hands. Pulling back for air, Sasuke laid his forehead on hers, looking her directly in the eye as he continued to massage her flesh and tug at her nipples and roll them under his thumbs.

“You sure about this?”

“Absolutely.” Sakura cradled the back of his neck with both of her hands and pulled his mouth back to hers. Using her hold as an anchor, she fell back slowly, guiding Sasuke to follow her and nestle in the cradle of her thighs.

Sasuke pulled back, giving Sakura room to remove her sweater. It had barely been tossed aside when he returned to her, pressing kisses to her stomach and trailing his mouth up to her breasts, sucking on the underside of them before rolling her nipples with his tongue.

While Sasuke laved at her nipples and sucked on the flesh of her pert breasts, he worked on sliding her shorts off. When he didn’t find anything under them except for skin he looked up at her, head cocked quizzically.

“I planned to be out of them so why bother putting on undergarments?”

“Next time,” Sasuke pressed a kiss to her knee and then the other, “let me take them off.”

“Next time,” Sakura’s breath hitched as he gave her clit a flick of his tongue, “huh?”

The look Sasuke gave her was all heat as he sucked one of her nether lips into his mouth before working her with his tongue. Sakura sank her fingers into his thick, black hair and wondered if he had done this for her the other night. If he had it was a shame she couldn’t recall it or had a heads up to just how wonderful Sasuke’s tongue was. Her fingers tightened their hold on his hair, keeping him in place as her thighs trembled around his head. She cried out, high and sharp, when Sasuke pressed deeper into her, his tongue working harder as he alternated between strokes and suckling on her hardened little nub as if it was his reason for existing.

Sakura’s ankles locked behind Sasuke’s shoulders as her hips grinded against his mouth to chase the wave of her orgasm. With a keening cry she collapsed back onto the couch, her chest heaving from exertion. As she tried to control her breathing, Sasuke made his way back up her body, pressing kisses and nips to every bit of skin he could. Humming with satisfaction, she cupped his face in her hands and pulled him back up so she could kiss him hard, tasting herself as she rolled her tongue against his.

“Take off your pants,” Sakura panted, sliding her hands down to the waistband of Sasuke’s sweatpants.

Sasuke shook his head and licked up her sternum with one sure lick, pressing his tongue hard between her breasts. “Turn around.”

His voice was a low rumble, vibrating against her breastbone, and causing a shiver to run down her spine. He used a hand to guide her to turning around until she was stomach down on the couch. With her back exposed to him, Sasuke pressed open mouth kisses down her spine. She flinched when he reached the center of her back, the spot surprisingly sensitive. He palmed her ass with both hands, massaging the cheeks before biting down on a fleshy area.

“Hey!” Sakura squealed at the sensation. He chuckled against her, sliding a hand between her thighs to where she was softest.

“I think you liked that.” He stroked her with his fingers, spreading her folds and dipping his middle and ring fingers inside of her. “I know you liked that.”

“Hmm, maybe I did.” Sakura pressed her cheek to the couch cushion and lifted her rump higher in the air and rocked her hips from side to side teasingly.

Sasuke sat up on his knees and grabbed her by the hips, pulling her closer to him. He pressed his hips against her and rocked back and forth, his clothed, hardened length digging against her core. Sakura moaned softly against the couch cushion as Sasuke grinded against her in alternating rhythms.

“Just put it in already,” Sakura pleaded.

“Fuck,” Sasuke hissed as she rocked back against him. “Do you want me to go get a condom? I think Obito has some in the master bedroom.”

“Don’t bother,” Sakura panted. “Don’t make me wait.”

“Alright.”

Sasuke stood up and pulled his sweatpants and boxers off. He helped her turn back around and settled himself between her legs. Bracing himself on one forearm, Sasuke licked his fingers and rubbed the tip of his cock before taking himself in hand and gave himself four quick pumps before guiding himself inside of her wet heat.

Sakura moaned at the fullness as he stretched her pleasantly. She cupped his face in her hands once again and kissed him wherever she could reach with her mouth—his chin, the corner of his mouth, his upper lip. She hadn’t realized how empty and aching she was feeling until this moment.

“You good?” Sasuke asked, keeping still but adjusting her legs around his hips for her comfort.

Sakura nodded, wrapping her arms under his armpits and clutched his shoulders. She tilted her hips up and rolled them until he began to thrust.

She didn’t know if this was how they did it the other night, but she was enjoying it. Sakura expected him to grope at her breasts and her ass as he pounded into her, but Sasuke kept to a steady pace and with his forearms caging her head, he wrapped her hair around his fingers and kissed her languidly. It was so warm and affectionate she almost forgot that it started as her just wanting a fuck on the couch to figure out if it was as good as she had thought it would be and to make up for being robbed of the experience by her inebriation.

“Harder,” Sakura demanded and without missing a beat Sasuke gave her exactly what she asked for.

He sat up on his knees and lifted her legs straight up so that her ankles crossed behind his head and he thrust harder, holding onto her knees to keep her in place. One of his legs slipped onto the ground so that he could brace himself with his foot and make sure they didn’t fall off the couch.

“You feel so good,” he praised her, kissing her left inner ankle.

“Yeah?” Sakura smiled mischievously up at him and squeezed the muscles of her core, causing Sasuke to falter in his movements. She giggled at his expense but choked on air when he readjusted his footing and thrust particularly hard into her.

Sasuke pushed her knees up into her chest and held her there as he set a punishing pace, hitting her repeatedly in a spot she liked. Her staccato cries of joy filled the room, drowning out the sound of the television.

She fell apart again and Sasuke slowed down his thrusting in favor of feeling her flutter around him and kissing her lazily. They lay like that, him still inside of her, and they exchanged kisses.

“Your turn,” Sakura murmured against his mouth as he stroked her side, brushing her ribs with his knuckles.

“Flip over,” Sasuke ordered, voice low and causing her stomach to clench in anticipation. Settling behind her, Sasuke chased his finish, his chest pressed to her back and panting in her ear.

They both collapsed on the couch and Sasuke turned on his side so that he could pull Sakura against him. They lay in a boneless sort of manner and sated, intertwining their legs and their bodies slick with sweat.

After a moment of silence, Sakura spoke up.

“Well that was definitely better sober.”

Sasuke snorted, his silent laughter rumbling in his chest and vibrating against Sakura’s back.

He was supposed to be getting some water. Somehow a trip for water turned into him making out with Sakura. She was seated on the kitchen island and he stood between her legs, one hand pressed to the small of her back and the other cradling her face.

“I’m supposed to be making dinner,” she whined but made no move to pull away. She gasped when Sasuke slid his hand between her thighs.

“We can order pizza.”

She couldn’t remember what her question was. Not with the way Sasuke moved underneath her, breaking her rhythm and holding her hips down to meet his every thrust. He had her crying out and collapsing onto him, weak to his relentless pounding.

Sakura panted, struggling to catch her breath after they both came, as Sasuke rubbed her back soothingly.

“Yeah, I’ll change the bulb in the hallway closet.”

That was the question? Sakura frowned against Sasuke’s clavicle. Well, alright then.

“Shut up!”

Sakura hid her face in her hands, trapping the heat radiating off of it with her palms.

“Tell us everything,” Ino insisted. Karin nodded vigorously in agreement from her window on Sakura’s monitor.

The three of them were using Zoom to video chat and it was supposed to be wine and movie night, but it had instead turned into a gossip session now that Sakura admitted to them that her three year dry spell had ended during the quarantine.

“We keep fucking,” Sakura whined, pulling her knees up to her chest and falling sideways on her bed. “He’s like the fucking energizer bunny: just keeps going and going.”

Karin snorted, earning herself a glare from Sakura. “How is that a bad thing?”

“It’s not.” Sakura chewed on her lower lip. “We hang out and do other stuff too.”

“Like what?” Ino asked, blowing on her nails. She had taken out her nail polish and had given herself a pedicure as she waited for Karin to pick their movie and their change in plans hadn’t stopped her from continuing.

“We watch movies and take care of Obito’s garden and his plants. I’m teaching him how to cook.” Sakura sighed and groaned softly under her breath, “We take naps together and just...cuddle.”

Besides sex being added to the list of their activities, the only change to their cohabitation was that sometimes they curled up in Sasuke’s bed just to sleep together or hold each other as they lay in the comfort of the blankets. It sometimes led to sex, but that wasn’t the goal. They simply liked being together and exchanging kisses between the sheets and listening to music.

It was sometimes more enjoyable than when he was making her come like a train. Sometimes. Alright, always. Coming was nice but she had a drawer of toys for that. She couldn’t cuddle and joke with her vibrator.

“Now that you’re boning him,” Karin smirked at her, “do you think you can introduce me to his older brother?”

The three of them burst into laughter, Sakura burying her face into her pillow to drown out the sound.

When Sasuke had remodeled Sasori’s master bathroom, he had found a bath to install that would fit his cousin’s tall frame perfectly inside. It was for that reason he knew he and Sakura could both fit comfortably, considering he and Obito were the same height.

“This is nice,” Sakura sighed, settling between his legs and resting her back against his chest. “I thought Sasori had locked his bedroom before leaving to Third’s.”

Sasori had in fact locked his bedroom, but Sasuke had picked the lock so that he could use the master bedroom for the setting of his photos for his OnlyFans. Sasuke had money to make and he needed privacy and also didn’t want to get into Sakura’s way while she worked and took care of the house.

Things had been good so far between the two of them. They hadn’t discussed what they were doing, but Sasuke was enjoying being trapped in the house with Sakura. Her affection for him even traveled outside the walls of Sasori’s house. She would hold his hands as they walked down aisles when they went shopping for things they couldn’t order or when they went for walks around the neighborhood.

Now they were taking a bath together. Sasuke had used the large bathtub for some photos, carefully placing bubbles to cover his penis, but then making them dissipate with a flap of his hand to take uncensored shots for his Patreon tiers that involved full nudity.

It was as the water cooled and the bubbles became flat that he thought about Sakura and if she would want to relax with him.

When he suggested a bath to Sakura, her eyes lit up and she found all of the candles in the house, played some soft music, and prepared the bath with scented oils and bubbles.

“This has got to be a fire hazard.” Sasuke gestured around the room at all of the candles. Their flames reflected against the tiles of the bathroom, creating a nice ambience.

“Shhhh.” Sakura kissed the inside of his wrist, and snuggled into him more. “Don’t be a killjoy.”

Sasuke leaned back and closed his eyes. This would probably be a little better if I were high, he sighed inwardly. He should have rolled a joint before they got into the bath.

“Would this be considered a date?” Sakura asked, breaking the comfortable silence between them.

“Some people would consider it a date. I would rather be clothed during most of a date.”

“I don’t mind,” Sakura chirped. “You’re exactly how I would want you to end up anyway.”

Heat that had nothing to do with the bath traveled up the back of Sasuke’s neck and settled in his ears.

“If the world wasn’t so fucked up right now, where would you wanna go?”

“Hmm…” Sakura hummed one thought, her knees swaying from side to side. “For a walk in Old Town to get some ice cream. Maybe check out the hibachi spot and then watch the boats on the river.”

“I don’t even like ice cream and that sounds good. Just to be outside.”

Two months had passed since the quarantine had begun and Sasuke was beginning to feel restless. He didn’t usually care about going out, only really went out for work, but now that he was forced to stay inside all day, every day, he just wanted to go out and do something.

After the quarantine was over, he and Sakura were going to need to take a road trip just to feel normal again.

“My friend Karin got tested and her results were negative so she’s going to come over and give me a haircut.” Sakura tugged at the ends of her long hair. “I procrastinated getting one and then everything was shut down.”

Sasuke huffed air out of his mouth and blew at his bangs. They had grown long enough to fall to his chin. “You think she’d mind giving me a haircut too?”

Sakura couldn’t stop giggling. She rubbed the back of Sasuke’s head, right at the nape where Karin had shaved his hair so it was a close crop. She had buzzed him into an undercut before Sakura and Sasuke could say anything about it.

“I just needed a trim.” Sasuke scowled. Karin had done a really good job and the hairstyle looked great on him, but Sasuke had only wanted to take care of his unruly bangs. “If I put my glasses on, I’ll look like a wannabe Skrillex.”

Sakura snorted, curling up in his lap. “His undercut is on the side like Karin’s. Yours is on the back.”

“Whatever. Don’t you dare give her my brother’s phone number.” Sasuke ran his fingers through Sakura’s new bob cut and kissed her forehead. “Anything you wanna do before bedtime?”

For the past few weeks they had tried to make sure they were preoccupied so that they wouldn’t get bored. Sakura was still attempting to teach him to cook but she has better results teaching him yoga.

“We could have a Lord of the Rings marathon?” Sakura wrinkled her nose in thought. “I can work on some crochet crop tops while we watch.”

They had settled into a comfortable, domestic routine. Sakura was enjoying living with Sasuke and didn’t care about Sasori and Obito having ditched her. She was kind of glad they did. She was especially glad for it the week before when Sasuke made her ginger and honey tea and always had a hot water bottle ready for her when the cramps got really bad. Sasori had the weird idea to feed her liver whenever she was on her period. He never cooked it, always handing it to her raw.

It was nice living with Sasuke. Sakura wasn’t looking forward to when Sasori and Obito returned and ruined the tranquility they had.

She prayed things wouldn’t change when they were around other people. That they wouldn’t go back to how they used to be when they sat awkwardly next to each other at holidays.

Usually a morning person, Sakura was always first to wake up out of the both of them.

She woke to the feeling of him pressed against her back, erection settling against her ass and warm breath puffing against her nape. His arm wrapped around her body and held to her chest as her fingers were laced with his.

“Sasuke.” Sakura attempted to separate their limbs. “Sasuke. We fell asleep on the couch again.”

Sasori’s couch was ridiculously comfortable and with the wide extension sticking out to make its L shape, Sakura found herself falling asleep on it often. During the quarantine she always lay there when watching TV or movies which was pretty typical from pre-quarantine life, but now instead of selfishly taking up the best spot, she was sharing it with Sasuke who was surprisingly cuddly.

“Sasuke,” Sakura whined. The more she tried to pull away, the more he clung to her. She disentangled their legs and he bit down softly on the back of her neck. “I have morning breath and, dude, I definitely need a shower…”

“Like I care.”

Sasuke was talented at distracting her. One moment she wanted to get ready for the day and in the next all she wanted was to roll around in bed all day. Sakura made no protest when Sasuke helped her remove one of the shirts she kept stealing from him and pulled off her sweatpants and tugged her panties off. Thanks to Sasuke, she was spending an incredible amount of time naked on Sasori’s couch.

“I was supposed to,” Sakura’s breath hitched when Sasuke bit the inside of her left thigh, “be making breakfast.”

“This is preferable,” he murmured against her folds, burying his face between her legs.

During the weeks of their cohabitation, Sakura had discovered that Sasuke liked going down on her more than he enjoyed when she returned the favor. He apparently liked to take advantage of the fact that she could have more than one orgasm in a single round of sex and even though getting blown was nice, he didn’t like the recovery time or how sensitive he became afterward.

Sasuke was in the middle of getting her to the first orgasm he wanted to give her when the front door opened. Not that Sasuke or Sakura had noticed.

“Oh my God,” Sakura sighed breathily, sinking her fingers into Sasuke’s hair.

“Oh my God!” Obito cried out, snapping Sakura out of her pleasure induced daze.

“My couch!” Sasori hissed, eyes narrowed in distaste.

Sakura sat up, almost kicking Sasuke in the face, and saw both her cousin and his husband and a giant man almost half a foot taller than Obito on the other side of the couch.

“Oh my God,” Sakura moaned softly in horror, grabbing the throw she kept on the couch and wrapping it around her body. Sasuke straightened himself and took a seat next to her, bare as the day he was born, cock hard and hair mussed, with a shiny smear on his chin from the activity that had just been interrupted.

“Holy shit, Shisui was right.” Obito stared in awe at Sasuke’s crotch, only snapping his attention away when Sasori slapped his arm and shot him a look of disgust. “What? I thought he was exaggerating how big it was. Oh, fuck. I owe him one-fifty now.”

Sasori rolled his eyes and made his way to the kitchen, calling out behind him, “Please tell me you mean a dollar and change.”

Obito rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “No. Hundred fifty.”

“Hello.” The giant man waved at Sasuke and Sakura, flashing them what in a normal situation would have been a charming smile if it weren’t for the severe lack of clothing and what he had walked in on. “I’m Third, It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He held out his hand. He put it down as soon as he realized they weren’t going to shake his hand. “We came over because Obito has been raving about your cinnamon chip scones and Sasori said that you could teach me to make them for him.”

“You could have called first,” Sasuke drawled, bending over at the waist to reach for his sweatpants and boxer briefs.

“You could have not been fucking on my couch!” Sasori’s voice carried in from the kitchen, followed by the slamming of cupboard doors.

Sakura rolled her eyes and stood up, careful to keep the throw wrapped around her body. Leave it to her to be caught by her cousin, his husband, and their boyfriend getting eaten out in the early morning in the middle of the living room.

“Come back in one hour and I’ll teach you how to bake anything you want,” She told Third, craning her neck to be able to look him directly in the eye. “But you gotta take them with you.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

Much faster than she expected someone of such great bulk to move, Third was escorting Sasori and Obito━who had already found her homemade yogurt and was eating it━out of the house.

“Are you really going to be teaching their boyfriend to bake?” Sasuke asked, yanking his pants up and following her as she walked to her bedroom. Sakura snorted and shook her head.

“I can teach him over FaceTime. We’re changing the fucking locks.”

Day’s Notes: There’s a high chance I may revisit this AU because I used some AU ideas of mine and mashed them up to make this fic and I’m very attached to my OnlyFans Sasuke AU. I have so much to write for it.

#sasusaku #ssm20 #ssm20d1 #day!fics

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allsassnoclass · 3 years

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“Every day you wake up and make it my problem” Luke to Ashton

alrighty a theatre au for the only person in the theatre department who can handle me <3

Opening night brings a palpable excitement in the air, a nervous energy that can only naturally be produced at this point in the production process. The scenes have been blocked, the lines memorized, the sets built, the costumes sewn, and every piece of design meticulously brought together to create something ready for sharing. As Luke hangs up the laundered costume pieces and ensures that the dressing rooms are prepared for the night, he can already feel the excitement amongst the crew milling about. It will only be compounded once the actors arrive for the night.

Luke has his sewing kit, numerous pins, extra hairspray, and a bite light. There aren't many quick changes in Hamlet, and all of them have been easily doable in dress rehearsals. He's ready.

When he wanders out to backstage, Calum and Michael seem to be ready, too. Calum is sitting on the acting block Michael has commandeered as his seat since tech, scrolling through his phone while Michael goes through his pre-show duties on the other side of the stage.

"Ready for tonight?" Luke asks, making Calum jump.

"Yeah. Is the laundry up?"

"Costumes are all clean and accounted for," Luke says. "If you want an empty dressing room, now is your time."

He stands and stretches, wandering over to the dressing rooms. Luke takes his spot and watches Michael continue to double-check props on the other side of the stage. Once satisfied, he heads back over, stopping short when he sees Luke.

"You're not my boyfriend," Michael says.

"He went to go get ready before the rush," Luke says. "Ready for tonight?"

"Very," Michael says. "No one has broken anything yet, which is a bit worrying, but I'm fucking ready to open."

"No one's broken any props or sets, you mean. I've had to resew numerous buttons and seams. Ashton can barely keep his clothes on."

"I bet you like that," Michael says, waggling his eyebrows. Luke flips him off, too used to Michael's teasing to be truly bothered. Ever since he first saw their lead actor and tripped over his own feet he hasn't known peace.

In his defense, Ashton is very beautiful. It is not Luke's fault that he got flustered during their first interaction. At least he was only writing down measurements instead of having to take them, because being that close to him without time to mentally prepare would have been embarrassing for everyone. (If he still has to take a few breaths when helping Ashton get on his more intricate costumes, that's his business, especially because being under the stage lights only enhances all of Ashton's best features.)

"Ashton gets to make out with your boyfriend every night. Stop laughing," he says flatly.

"Yeah, and it's fucking hot," Michael says, nudging Luke out of his seat.

Luke rolls his eyes. Reducing the relationship between Hamlet and Horatio to a "fucking hot" make out scene is a disservice to all of the painstaking work that Ashton, Calum, and the director have done to seamlessly incorporate it into the story without alienating or reducing Ophelia, but Michael isn't exactly wrong.

Ashton seems like a good kisser. Luke wants to know what it'd be like to be on the receiving end of that when there's no acting involved.

Luke kills time with Michael until he has to go on headset, signaling that it's late enough that Luke should probably check on the actors. Gertrude's zipper on her dress keeps getting jammed to the point where Luke is really considering replacing it. It works most of the time, but Luke is getting sick of having to finagle it. He helps her get it up and makes a note to replace it before tomorrow, then he heads to men's dress, ready to camp out until someone else needs him

"Luke!" Ashton greets exuberantly as soon as he steps in the door. He has his makeup on, just simple things to ensure he doesn't get washed out under the stage lights, but he looks stunning. He isn't even in his main costume yet, an intricate black tunic with gold embroidery meant to blur the line between historical and contemporary like everything else in the show, but Luke wants to swoon.

"Hi."

"Thanks for fixing my buttons," he says. "Again."

"Try not to rip them off tonight," Luke says.

"I always try," Ashton says. Somehow, Luke still feels like he's going to be fixing a button. Ashton doesn't restrain himself onstage. It makes him captivating to watch, but it also means that unnecessary rips and button tears occur, sometimes in ways that Luke thinks should be impossible. Being wardrobe head for this production has taught him many new ways to break a costume.

He helps the actors here and there with things like hair or specialty makeup, distracting himself from Ashton changing in the background and passing the time until the actors go to warm ups. Rosencrantz has managed to misplace his socks because he hadn't zipped his laundry bag when he gave it to be washed and Gildenstern can't find one of her shoes, but otherwise there isn't much for Luke to do with this show. He wanders out by Michael, knowing by now where he can stand to watch from offstage and when he'll have to move so he's not in the way.

When the lights go down and the warnings about flash photography and food in the theater play over the loudspeaker, Luke's heart starts thumping harder in his chest. Michael turns on the fog machine for a bit of haze at the beginning, Bernardo and Francisco take their places onstage, and the play begins.

Even after having seen the show during the crew view and hearing it over the monitors backstage every night since, he manages to get lost in the story. Each performer is on top of things tonight, none more so than Ashton. From the moment he steps out on stage the charismatic actor is gone, replaced by a moody but no less magnetic Hamlet. His grief and anger is palpable in his introductory scene, and his relief at seeing Horatio for the first time perfectly sets up their dependency in the rest of the show. His scene with the ghost is heartbreaking, and Luke finds himself subconsciously biting his lip and leaning forward, wanting nothing more than to erase his pain. Hamlet is enamored by Ophelia and broken by her betrayal, and every soliloquy is captivating. No one can command a stage like Ashton Irwin.

Intermission sees Luke attending to his actual job as a dresser, helping with the laces on a few costumes and checking with all the actors to be sure there's no issues. Ashton grabs his shoulders and blurts an excited sentence about crowd reactions, then immediately goes backstage to get "back into the Hamlet zone." Calum watches this interaction with raised eyebrows. When he heads backstage, Luke hopes he's not going to gossip with Michael.

The second half of the show goes just as smoothly as the first. Michael has him take care of the actress playing Oscric when she feels a little bit faint, but once she gets more water in her she perks back up and Luke can return to watching Ashton's breakdown on stage. The ending duel scene is more polished and realistic than they've ever done it, but it's Horatio's final moments with Hamlet that leave Luke speechless. Something about Calum cradling Ashton in his arms while Ashton commands him to stay alive and tell his story has Luke tearing up.

He leaves during curtain call to grab the laundry bag and set himself up outside the dressing rooms, ready to take everything that needs to be washed. It feels anticlimactic to have the first night of the show done, but Luke typically doesn't feel the same sense of accomplishment as the actors do after each individual performance. It never truly hits him until strike, when he has to put everything away and reset the theatre and costume space to prepare for the next show. Luke congratulates every actor that passes and waits for them all to leave so he can go home. There's no one waiting for him in the audience tonight and he wasn't told about any after-parties, so he's looking forward to getting sleep before returning to the costume shop tomorrow to take care of the notes he has.

"Ashton's the last one in men's dress," Calum says when he hands in his own laundry. "He asked me to send you in."

Luke had been hoping that Ashton would be able to make it an entire show without a costume mishap. Apparently that hope had been misguided.

"It's Luke," he announces, knocking on the door.

"Come in!"

Ashton is pulling on a t-shirt, giving Luke an accidental glimpse at the dimples in his lower back. When he turns around he looks sheepish.

"I lost a button during the duel."

Luke sighs.

"I promise I'm not deliberately being destructive," Ashton says. "I'm not trying to make more work for you."

"Yet every day you wake up and make it my problem," Luke says. "Can I see which button?"

Ashton brings him his dueling vest, pointing out where a simple black button had fallen. Luke will walk by the stage to see if it's still there or Michael found it, but if not then it won't be difficult to replace.

"I'm really sorry," Ashton says, still standing close. "I swear I won't make you fix my costume tomorrow."

"Don't make promises you can't keep," Luke says. "You have the worst track record with costumes out of everyone I've ever worked with."

"Well, I need some excuse to keep talking to you."

Luke blinks at him.

"That was a joke. I mean, I do love having a reason to talk to you, but it'd be shitty of me to be deliberately making your job hard."

"Oh," Luke says. "You don't need a reason to talk to me. You can just do it."

"There's not a lot of time for it in the middle of a show," Ashton says. "Unless you'd want to see me outside of work sometime? Say, for a coffee or dinner? As a date?"

"Me?" Luke asks. Ashton makes a show of looking around the empty dressing room.

"I don't see any other tall, attractive blond men named Luke who keep putting my clothing back together."

Luke smiles, not trying to hide his excitement. He's a shit actor anyway, and Ashton would see right through him.

"I could do that, but only if you stop ruining your costumes every night. Make it through tomorrow with no mishaps and we'll go on a date."

"You drive a hard bargain, Hemmings, but I'll try my best. For you, I'd sew everything back together myself if I had to."

"Please don't," Luke says.

"You don't trust me?" Ashton pouts.

"No," Luke laughs. "You keep destroying your costumes. I'm not about to trust you to fix them correctly."

Ashton shrugs. "Yeah, okay. I'm not a good sewer, anyway."

"That's what you have me for," Luke says. Ashton smiles, just as dazzling under the dressing room lights as it is onstage. It takes Luke's breath away, just a little.

The dressing room door opens, bringing Luke back to Earth. Calum pokes his head in.

"Hey Ash, your siblings want to see you. Stop flirting with Luke and get out here." He doesn't wait for a response, thankfully leaving them alone again for another moment. Ashton ducks his head, scuffing his shoes against the floor.

"I shouldn't keep them waiting," he says.

"It's hard being a star," Luke replies. It makes Ashton smile again, which is an exhilarating experience in of itself.

"We'll check in about the date tomorrow," Ashton says. "No more costume mishaps, cross my heart."

"I'll believe it when I see it," Luke teases. Ashton snorts.

"Have a good night, Luke. Congrats on the show."

"You too," Luke says. "You're really amazing up there."

"Thank goodness," Ashton says. "It'd be a bit late to replace me otherwise."

Luke rolls his eyes with a smile. "Get out of here, superstar. Go see your family."

Ashton blows him a kiss and ducks into a bow with a flourish on the way out the door. Luke stands in the middle of the dressing room, running his finger over the spot on Ashton's vest where the button is missing. He should probably be annoyed, but he's not. He's going on a date with Ashton at some point, and that's worth all of the lost buttons and torn costumes in the entire production.

#my writing #lashton #drabble #I want to be involved in a production of hamlet SO BAD #SO BAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!#also hello I miss traditional theatre #zoom theatre is great given the circumstances but I can't wait to actually Watch A Show In A Theater again #and be involved in one

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teethands · 3 years

Text

FF HEADCANON LIST

CRACKS KNUCKLES these are all imported from google docs bc thats where ive been keeping all my thoughts :] im not sure if theres any repeat HCs in here and im sorry if someones got to me before i have but these all came from my own brain !!! these are all very miscellaneous HCs but they generally revolve around vivosaurs and revival. some of them are rather macabre so a solid CW warning here for mentions of dinosaur body horror and death. ALSO SPOILERS FOR FOSSIL FIGHTERS 1 AND 2 BUT MOSTLY 2 LETS GO

modern boneysaurs/zombiesaurs

i think it is entirely possible to replicate a boney/zombiesaur outside of whatever sorcery zongazonga used to resurrect them in the first place. i think its relatively well known undead vivosaurs are a direct result of ZZ and his ancient tournament, and although zombiesaurs are usually claimed to be used in such tournaments most often, i think boneysaurs are just a variant of that but where less used due to weakness and general incompatibility. theyre all undead vivosaurs. thats it. on to the meat of this headcanon, boney/zombiesaur resurrection: i think zombiesaurs could be the result of attempting to revive a deceased vivosaur, while boneysaurs might be caused by man or machine malfunction while reviving a fossil. i think this might be an interchangeable effect: zombiesaurs might emerge from resurrections, and boneysaurs might emerge from revivals, although altogether i think this entire phenomenon is extremely rare. fossil revival goes entirely against the laws of nature and thus, nature must step in at some points to attempt to stop the process, although common fossil park high-tech machinery probably stops most instances like this from happening. boneysaurs emerging from failed revivals are almost always the cause of very poor cleaning, (maybe attempting to revive a heavily damaged, failed fossil head?) or outdated/unkempt fossil revival machinery. boney/zombiesaurs were so common in ZZ’s time because of such poor methods of revival. at some point during a “doomed” fossil revival, the skin and flesh of the vivosaur its supposed to resemble never quite “renders” in. the skin is registered and stitched together, but only holds the bones in place with an unknown black substance, leaving it void black in the same way a texture in a video game may just fail to load. presumably boneysaurs are almost always immediately dead in the revival chamber after the process is over due to lack of functioning organs, skin, etc, without some kind of support or magic. or maybe they are magic- every bad unnatural part of a revival machine fused into one being, and thats what allows them to live on. on the other hand, this could mean any type of boneysaur could emerge from any dinosaur- pterosaurs, therizinosaurs, raptors, maybe- maybe- just a thought, maybe even super revival vivosaurs could have this effect happen too. so, so rarely though. so rarely, its probably never even happened before in recorded vivosaur revival history.

as for zombiesaurs- this phenomenon could happen when a recently deceased vivosaur is attempted revival. recently deceased, as in, undecayed flesh-still-in-tact. i imagine this happens much more often than boneysaurs- although, i dont think many people are trying to revive dead vivosaurs.

zombiesaurs, fresh from the revival chamber, are almost always damned and in pain, and serve as a reminder to fighters that the laws of nature can only be twisted so far, and they are best be put down. presumably no fossil cleaning facilities will allow a fighter to attempt to revive a dead vivosaur due to the danger and the frightening, disturbing nature of zombiesaurs. fossil damage + neon goo every fighter has encountered the bright purple (green in the OG FF) substance that appears during cleaning when a fossil is too damaged in one area. this material wouldnt be produced from the fossil itself, but rather generated by the fossil cleaning machinery when it detects damage within the bone, kinda like a 3D printer. this is why fossil cleaning is so meticulous, and why it has to be done in such specific conditions with heavy surveillance and a tight time limit. this prevents the vivosaur from having broken bones when it is revived- it is a bright, obvious substance, and it feels much like a warm, firm jelly with a hard, synthetic core that sews bones together. maybe its different in other regions, explaining the color difference amongst games. it is almost completely unnoticeable when the vivosaur is revived, nearly perfectly mimicking bone and flesh to prevent issues later on in the vivosaurs life. as good of a bone mimic as it might be, i think a very heavily damaged bone would still be a weak point during battle or an area of pain or irritation for the vivosaur. that is why it is best to clean your fossils as well as you can. maybe this goo is designed to be replaced with real bone by the vivosaurs body later in life, but i have yet to think about that too much. perhaps its soft enough to be destroyed and replaced by the body’s natural healing functions, but hard enough to act as bone? And perhaps thats why its best to let your vivosaur rank up (rest+heal) before taking them to battle. UNRELATED HEADCANON- GUHNASH COULD HAVE HAD A COOLER DESIGN. I DONT LIKE HIM HE LOOKS LIKE A TADPOLE. i have a vision in mind for a cooler guhnash redesign- i like the snake-ish look, but maybe he could be like. an infinitely long being. nobody knows where he starts or ends. a head at the front of an infinitely massive body that consumes everything, and nobody knows where the eaten planets goes. kinda like a jörmungandr-like being. idk i just think a “planet eater” with living brains should be more eldritch and god-like and mysterious. ANYWAYS vivosaur ecosystems? there is literally no way a vivo ecosystem wouldnt form. NO WAY. so many dinosaurs and seeing how OFTEN they are abandoned- refer to the opening scene of fossil fighters champions- it would not be any surprise feral vivosaurs wouldnt breed and form small ecosystems among themselves and around fossil parks. its not an uncommon sight to see pterosaurs flying overhead or sauropods munching on trees, although id bet theropods and more dangerous vivosaurs would have teams of park rangers to keep them under control. refer once again to FFC opening scene. this would explain the seemingly infinite amount of fossils in the dig sites, how you can find vivosaurs in only specific areas- although thats leading into a rather dark topic and i would rather not talk about it right now LOL i will leave that open to interpretation. jurassic park knock off SOME OTHER LITTLE MISC HCS TOO SHORT TO WRITE ENTIRE TOPICS ABOUT: because ZZ is a mix of boneysaur and zombiesaur and hes also an ancient sorcerer he smells fucking rank. so fucking bad. hes got maggots and shit hes only held together by magic but somehow he kicks ass. but hes fucking stinky so at what cost boneysaurs have no concept of feelings and arent really desirable as vivos and zombiesaurs only know rage and pain, also making them undesirable, for very very good reasons. they are taboo to talk about among fighters but most of the time they are only myths because of how rare they are feral vivosaurs dont have medals, only revived vivos do. that means they are standalone animals and they are also generally undesirable for fighters but they can still be tamed, if one wishes. theres way, WAY more fossil parks and dig sites than shown in the games. fossil battling is as well known and used as much as people love music and video games in the fossil fighters universe. vivosaurs are an essential part of society, although there is often controversy on the ethics of fossil battles and revival. pokemon knock off alright thats all i feel like typing for now thanks for reading this far lads. i love dinossuars. i wanna write some things on dinaurians but maybe later after ive introduced saar here :)

#thank u for reading #also moth i love u i know u where excited to read this but im not sure how well u can understadn !!!!!! GBDFHBGSDJ xoxoxoxo #im not very good at writing headcanons these are just my dino thots #dino thots? oh you mean dinaurians?#fossil fighters #fossil fighters champions #hcs #headcanons #vivosaur #boneysaur #zombiesaur #yeehaw

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owletstarlet · 4 years

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Hi! Could you do devil's food chocolate for natsume and tanuma?? Many thanks 🌸

(From the ice cream flavors headcanon meme.) Devil’s food chocolate was a headcanon about vices.

So I’m not gonna attack either of their more serious deep rooted personal issues this time, let’s go at it from an inconvenient-personal-habits angle. (Which, disclaimer, are not bad or wrong in themselves or make you bad and wrong, especially if it’s a symptom of anxiety like Tanuma’s— but, like I said, inconvenient for the characters themselves.)

So the Tanuma headcanon is that when he gets really anxious he’ll start subconsciously picking at loose threads, buttons, or hems on his clothes. It’s something he tries really, really hard not to do, because he feels awful about damaging clothes his dad paid for, but I can Absolutely see him having been the sort of little kid who’d get a hole in his jeans by accident and then within half an hour it’s quadruple the size and his whole knee is visible. Or him at twelve years old coming home shamefaced with all the buttons popped off his uniform sleeves because he’d had a panic spiral over having to give a class presentation.

So it’s not often so severe now that he’s older, but he’s pretty adept at minor clothing repairs (buttons, hemming, fixing little holes), a skill which Natsume’s very grateful for after he’s been roped into Miscellaneous Youkai Shenanigans. (I’m envisioning more than one occasion where Natsume’s totally exhausted and tucked up in a quilt sipping tea while Tanuma sews half the buttons back onto a very rumpled and grass-stained shirt.) I think it’s a sign Natsume eventually figures out to watch for, if Tanuma starts plucking at his sleeves worrying at his shirt hem, that he’s way more stressed or upset than he’s letting on (or has even noticed himself, like for example if he’s in a noisy crowded place and getting overstimulated).

So the my idea for Natsume is that, especially as he hits college age, he’d fall into the trap of “each can of terrible vending machine coffee I chug is the rough equivalent of one hour’s worth of the sleep I didn’t get, right?” If he’s dealing with youkai bullshit du jour and college classes or a part time job (or, like I like to think, also learning some potentially life-saving skills from a few exorcists at the same time)…vending machine coffee tastes like ass but it’s cheap and it’s always right there. He’s never had it in the manga, but he does when he and Shigeru have their pottery-class-bonding time in the anime so I’d say he at least doesn’t mind the taste. As of canon high-school-era we know he already needs way more sleep than he’s getting, and he also hates letting people down, so once the daily tasks and responsibilities are increased, welp. Caffeine it is.

I’m imagining one day where he’s like. Huh. That’s odd, why do I feel shaky and nauseous and bad for no apparent reason…anyways there’s six different things I need to go do right now. And Tanuma, who doesn’t drink much caffeine at all because his doctor told him to avoid it years ago, is like :| :| :| Sensei takes that as his cue to just sit on Natsume’s chest and refuse to budge until he goes to sleep, which he does, and then he’s dead to the world for fourteen hours straight….

Thanks for the ask, this was a fun one! :)

#I like to imagine that natsume kind of associates the taste of the canned coffee with shigeru and with home #also tanuma's most comfy pajamas have ratty sleeves for the aforementioned reasons #tanunatsu #tanuma kaname #natsume’s book of friends #natsume takashi #natsuyuu #owlet's headcanons #owlet's meta #it's not really meta but for the sake of linking it to my page there's the tag #Two other things #natsume yuujinchou #cha-lii

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valeriacastaneda · 3 years

Text

My Autobiography

I remember being pretty young when all this inner turmoil began to stir. I remember an intense hatred of myself for no good reason. I was always too emotional. I don’t remember a time in my life where I didn’t hate myself. I remember being a little girl and feeling abandoned. I always had my parents around me but they weren’t very supportive and I don’t think they meant it to be that way. I felt like no one cared about me and I didn’t feel like I had anyone to turn to as I was growing up. I longed for my mother to put her arm around me and protect her little girl. But my parents were completely absorbed in the constant drama and fights that their relationship entailed. I just wanted my parents to get along. I was a really sensitive child and it was completely agonizing to be dragged into their fights. I knew this wasn’t going to be easy to write but anything worthwhile is going to be a bit painful. It’s been difficult to go through all of this while trying to be as honest and thorough as possible. This isn’t the first “timeline/autobiography” I had to write. I wrote one in my first rehab. But the last one wasn’t very honest- it was as honest as I could be at the time, I still had a lot to go through.

I grew up with two immigrant parents. In an immigrant home there’s a lot of stress behind closed doors. I always saw casual drinking and even binge drinking as a child, as a way to cope with emotions. I grew up on the east side of San Jose in the late 90’s. I feel like I had a complicated childhood. I was a happy child but I was also shy and incredibly anxious. I never had many friends, I felt like I always had to hide a part of myself. I dreamt of being a social butterfly cos that’s how I felt on the inside. But I was such a shy kid, I didn’t trust anyone and I had no sense of stability. It was hands growing up feeling completely alone. I even feel like there was a disconnect between me and my siblings because of how I felt about myself. Since I was a toddler, I remember feeling a deep sense of shame that I couldn’t shake. Anything that triggered this deep internal shame was to be avoided at all costs. I always felt deeply embarrassed for my existence, I always felt insecure.

I looked for stability in all the wrong places. I tried to cling to people, begging to be saved from being drowned only to drag them under the current with me. I didn’t understand that salvation could be found within myself. I looked in all the wrong places and I let my heart be broken countless times before I was able to look within myself to find the strength to push forward. I feel like I had a lonely childhood at times because I remember crying a lot. I remember feeling a deep sorrowful sadness as a child, a sadness I couldn’t express. My mother suffered from postpartum depression after I was born, maybe we had a difficult time bonding. People who know us probably wouldn’t say that we weren’t close. I felt abandoned by my parents at a very young age. They argued so loudly it shook the house and the core to my being. My dad would storm out of the house and slam the doors. I would feel shaken to my core. There was always yelling and cussing in Spanish. Words I could never whimper or my mother would strike them from my lips as soon as the thought crossed my mind.

I felt like my siblings had a bond with each other that I could never be apart of. I was too sensitive, always too emotional. I remember being a child and hiding in the darkness of the closet while my entire body shook from sobbing because of the constant torment I felt inside my soul. I never fit into my family. I always felt like the odd one out, the black sheep, and the ugly duckling. My brother’s would tease me and call me the ugly duckling and that definitely got into my head. When I grew up I started looking for the attention I never received from my father in guys my age, and eventually men. I was always looking for attention in all the wrong places. I was waiting for someone to come and save me from myself. It took me many years to realize that no one would come to rescue me. I had to do that work myself so I could be a decent partner but I didn’t realize that for many years.

Some of the happiest moments of my childhood include me learning how to read. I remember being so enthralled with my ability to read books and escape. I always had a need to escape my reality. I remember being a kid and staying in an after school program. My childhood was short and sweet and I look back on it fondly. I loved playing make-believe on the playground with my two friends. I always kept a small circle. I loved art and crafts and as an adult I learned embroidery, sewing, and cross-stitch as a hobby. I enjoyed photography and showing people my art. I was always extremely imaginative and that’s something I continue to hold onto as an adult. My parents never demanded straight A’s from me but at one point I felt like the pressure was so intense and I didn’t feel like it was fair. My other siblings weren’t held to the same standards as I was but as an adult, I now see that my parents were encouraging me to do my absolute best.

When I was a young child, someone abused me. I never shared what happened to me with anyone else in my family and if anyone had a clue about it, or would ask about it I would pretend I had no memory of what they were talking about. I remember struggling with the constant shame throughout my life. Guilt and shame are themes that pop up into my life.

I fell in love for the first time when I was 16 in high school. I was at my new school after getting transferred out of my local high school because of my emotional issues and drug abuse. I was sitting on the bus on my way to the trade school that I would go to for half the day, I was taking a forensics class. There was a handsome football player that would ride the bus with me and I was sitting with my friend when he leaned over and asked for my number. His name was Tarunbir but I always called him T. I tried not paying any attention to him but he was persistent and it made him all the more attractive. I was smoking meth constantly at this period of my life and he asked me on a date to go eat somewhere and I clearly remember replying with, “I don’t eat.” and smirking at my friend. He asked for my phone so he could call his mom and I let him but he put his number into my phone and asked me to text him.

I had absolutely no intention of talking to him but the next day I was bored at home so I decided to text him. I had no idea this interaction would change the course of my life forever. We became entangled in this relationship or more accurately described as a “trauma bond”. There were clear red flags that I chose to ignore because I thought his jealousy and possessiveness meant he actually loved and cared about me. I was always trying to break up with him but he would show up at my door crying, begging for me back with flowers and gifts. I would always give in. He physically, mentally, and sexually abused me. He abused me in every way but I stayed with him on and off for four years. I was addicted to him like I was addicted to escaping my reality. We gave into each other’s drug abuse and eventually I could only cope by constantly being high. I truly felt stuck with him and I knew I wouldn’t be able to leave him until he left me first. I remember him pushing me and forcing my head into the concrete one night. I remember an incident that happened between us that led me to a trip to the emergency room. I still have the scar on the back of my head. He went to jail but it wasn’t long before we were back together; entangled in a cycle of abuse and denial.

I constantly dealt with suicidal ideation. I remember being 18 years old when I decided I didn’t want to live a moment longer. For a bit of background, I was struggling with my sobriety and I badly wanted out. Earlier that day I had received a message on my blog from someone anonymous telling me to kill myself. Unfortunately I was so sick, I listened. I bought some pills off my dealer and I popped them all. I took one handful after another. I finished them off with my own medications, that I had somehow stockpiled. I was hanging out while my boyfriend, T, went off somewhere. I remember having a soft drink in my hand and a snack with me. I was at the apartment complex that he lived at. I started walking around after I had taken them and I don’t remember much after that. I just know what I was told afterwards. T found me unconscious and not breathing at the bottom of the concrete stairs. He started doing compressions on my chest and I remember the pain of him nearly breaking my ribs as he sobbed on the phone to the paramedics. I don’t remember what he said only that I never heard him cry like that in my life. I remember saying, “Ow” to get him to stop cos the pain was so intense. I was put into a medical coma for a few days. When I woke up, two days later my mom told me they pumped my stomach. I remember while I was intubated how much it bothered me to have that uncomfortable machine in me. I kept attempting to pull it out so they had to tie my arms down. I was basically dead. They didn’t know what was going to happen to me when I woke up. I remember waking up from that coma and asking for my baby sister, Lilibeth. I remember the dry, scratchy feeling in my throat and the hoarseness in my voice. I still carry so much guilt from that day because I know I hurt my siblings irreparably and that’s probably why I’ll never be close with them again. They saw me in so many terrible situations that I’ll never stop feeling guilty about. Words could never describe how sorry I am and I know words will never soothe their pain.

T helped me talk to my parents about sending me to rehab when I was 19 and I couldn’t stop shooting up. I was addicted to feeling the needle as much as I was addicted to drugs slipping into my vein- I could romanticize what I felt and describe it to you in detail. It’s kind of sick. The excitement I felt when I would finally register and push the plunger down was almost better than the high itself. Almost but not quite. I remember sitting on the floor of his room in his mother’s apartment for hours on end trying to hit a vein. It was pure agony because I tried every vein in my arms and legs until I was covered in small pin pricks and bruises. When I finally registered, I can’t even describe to you the calm that would wash over my body. Some people get tweaked out and start bouncing off the walls on meth, but not me. I lay back and felt the iciness crawl up my throat, and I would cough as my heart tried to pound it’s way out of my chest. My rock bottom was when I was filled with agony, covered in pricks and bruises and spending hours on end trying to get high without success. After rehab, T picked me up and brought me home. Not before I relapsed again. My parents made a huge sacrifice financially for me so how did I relapse leaving rehab? I had a Xanax prescription that a doctor had prescribed for me so I didn’t think that was an issue. T still had some of my script on him and I asked him for some. That’s how the slippery slope began. Before I knew it, I was back to shooting meth and then, I fell in love with heroin too. I started hanging out with adults who were ten years older than me and I started dealing drugs to support myself and my habit. I was filled with so much self-hatred and I felt like using drugs was the only way I could escape feeling the constant bombardment of emotions that I was constantly subjected to. I was always miserable and I didn’t know the key to true contentment was within myself.

By October of 2016, I was 20 years old with two rehab stints under my belt which also happened to be wrapped around my arm. I clenched the leather between my teeth as I tirelessly attempted to shoot up a mixture of meth and heroin. I remember being so frustrated because my hands were shaking so hard from withdrawal that when I finally did register, I slipped the rig out of my vein and ruined my drugs because the blood in the syringe had coagulated. I was trying to get high and I ruined my drugs so I chose not to use it had to shoot it into the trash because if I would’ve used it, I was risking a blood clot going to my brain and killing me. I didn’t care about those consequences- but I did care about continuing to get high. A recurring theme in my 7life is a need for escapism and I needed to escape the everlasting depression and misery I constantly felt that tormented me. I felt like I had tried to get clean so many times on my own and I felt like I couldn’t get it right. I wanted so badly to be clean even though I truly believed in my soul that I could only be happy on drugs. I was sitting on the floor of my bedroom when I truly realized how tormented I was, I knew that I was failing at my attempts at sobriety. I couldn’t understand how people in sobriety could “have fun” without drugs. I remember going to young people’s Alcoholics Anonymous meetings and not being able to understand how they could achieve long-term sobriety and be happy. It seemed so fake and unattainable to me but I knew what I kept trying was failing, I had to try something new. T had broken up with me by now, because of my addiction. At the time, I truly loved heroin more than him anyways. Heroin was awful but it never put me through the various types of abuse that he put me through. I was so hurt and angry with him that I swore to myself that I would never go back to him for leaving me when I needed someone there for me. I know it sounds twisted but I’m honestly so thankful that he had left me because it left me with resolve to do something about my situation. I didn’t have the strength to leave and stay gone during our years together because of how vulnerable I was at that point in my life.

I always knew something was different about me. I have a hazy memory about being a small child in elementary school and being attracted to a girl in a way that I had never felt about anyone. I was 6 years old when I had my first “crush” on a girl but I felt shame deeply in my young soul even then. I never pursued my interest in girls until I was an adult and I had my first girlfriend, Kemi. I was still struggling with my sobriety at the time that I met her. She had been sober for two years by the time we were together. I remember her and I sitting on the floor of my bedroom while I fixed myself a shot. I don’t remember exactly what was happening but my parents were throwing a party. I had to wear something to cover the track marks and bruises on my arms even though it was a hot August day. My memories from the time are a bit hazy from the drugs but I made her look away while I did what I had to do. I remember feeling guilty but ultimately not caring that I was possibly risking her sobriety by using around her. I was so self-centered that nothing mattered to me but having the feeling of calmness wash over me. Things ultimately didn’t work out between us but that’s okay. She was good to me and she brought me around A.A. and introduced me to what sobriety had to offer me.

I attempted sobriety again in November of 2016 and I can’t pinpoint exactly what changed this time around. I no longer desired to keep up the facade that I had perfectly crafted. Anyways, it was all crumbling down around me pretty quickly. I remember having a sort of epiphany about the state of my life. I was 20 years old and I was speeding down the highway and into my grave. I don’t think I instantly wanted to live a righteous life or anything close to it, I just needed to try something different. Especially with turning 21 years old in a few days looming over my head. I couldn’t believe I legally couldn’t drink alcohol yet but I could buy heroin and I was a pretty decent hobbyist phlebotomist at this point.

I broke up with Rami last year. I was pretty unhappy with myself and where the relationship was going so I took our dog and moved back into my parent’s house. I needed to start figuring out what I was going to do with myself and my sobriety. The stress I put on myself after Rami relapsed after we broke up in December of 2018 and it absolutely ruined me. It helped lead me here, to Center for Discovery but not before I was hospitalized at Stanford for my low body weight. Rami never asked me to be with him while he struggled with his sobriety. I blamed myself for his relapse even though the rational side of my brain knew it had nothing to do with me. My anxiety was so bad I started restricting and I wasn’t even really aware of it at the time. I just knew that my mind was constantly spinning and I was on the edge of breaking down every day. I would take some anti-anxiety medication and it was like magic, I could finally be calm enough to eat. Rami continued to relapse and I continued to work hard and skip meal after meal. I was becoming frail and I was losing my ability to think clearly. I was worried about how I would pay my bills. I didn’t want to lose the independence from my parents that I finally felt I had earned. The heavy medications I had been taking made it impossible for me to hold down a job. I was finally able to prove to myself that I could work long shifts and over 40 hour weeks. I remember when a 4 hour shift was absolute agony for me. I could never go back to how things were. I earned my independence and I didn’t care if I starved myself to death for it, I wasn’t willing to give it up even though I was sacrificing my health.

Earlier this year I started a new job and it was extremely demanding. It ruined me. Or maybe it put me on the fast track so that I could ruin myself easier. I had to work long hours extremely hungry. My boss didn’t care about me, he saw me as another dispensable person: to be used up until I wasn’t worth anything and he could easily throw me away. I quickly became aware of what kind of person he was and I wondered what I could do. My best bet was finding another job but he paid me pretty well and I didn’t have to worry about a lot of things anymore. I was becoming independent for the first time in my life and that was all I ever wanted. I started skipping meals cos I had so many routes to do. I worked for a cannabis service that existed in a gray area in California law. I worked as a delivery driver and eventually I started working the desk. There was no human resources for me to ever turn to. He called me into work when he needed me and if I didn’t drop everything in that moment to help him, he wouldn’t call me for a few days to make my pockets run dry. I was constantly stressed and unhappy- but the money was good so I stayed. I didn’t have any confidence to go and find another job and he worked me so hard that I was constantly an anxious mess. I was constantly crying and on the edge of a breakdown. I think me staying irregardless of any abuse I faced is a problematic recurring theme in my life.

I was misdiagnosed bipolar for many years. I took every medication they could prescribe me. I’m sure there are a few I hadn’t tried but antidepressants cause a manic reaction in me and make me suicidal. But nonetheless, I took my medication religiously but I was medicating the after-effects of my drug abuse. I kept trying to fix something by taking drugs or taking medications but I didn’t realize the answer was in years of therapy. There’s a lot in my history that I can’t explain or find an answer for but that’s okay, I don’t need to understand everything that happened. All that matters is now. I don’t know how I managed to have so many clinicians misdiagnose me. Even when I tried avoiding the bipolar label I still got diagnosed with cyclothymia. To me that made it pretty clear to me that I was on that spectrum. A few months ago my doctor came to me with a diagnosis that frankly, pissed me off. I had heard it before but I felt like I had been in therapy long enough that I didn’t warrant that diagnosis or the stigma attached to it. When I heard the words “borderline personality disorder” it made me angry and defensive immediately. I definitely feel like that reaction made sense with the diagnosis. The doctors didn’t realize that some of my symptoms may have been residual from my drug use.

I never really realized I was anorexic until I started feeling the pressure to keep up an appearance. And I don’t mean that literally. I didn’t have time to look in the mirror and I hated the skeletal mess that always met my eyes when I would make the mistake of looking at my reflection. I didn’t think I was anorexic but my mind is much clearer now and I see that although a lot of stereotypical behaviors weren’t there, they didn’t need to be. I started looking at what made sense. I took being perfect to a flaw. I couldn’t leave the house unless I was fashionably dressed and if I didn’t have the nicest clothes then I felt bad about myself. If my makeup wasn’t impeccable I wasn’t shit. All I had to hold onto was my appearance of a well put together girl. I still don’t fit into that label, my anxiety has made it feel impossible to eat. I look back on my years of drug use and I see that I definitely used for weight control as well as mood management throughout my adolescence and young adulthood. Labels really don't mean much though cos we're in the same place for similar reasons. I feel like at a time of my life I honestly did hate my body. I think I might have hated it for a long time- for keeping me alive when I’ve wanted so badly to give up. I’ve hated it for not being the same shape or silhouette as other women. But I don’t feel that way anymore. I’m beautiful, scars and all.

I’ve shared the deepest, darkest moments of my life for only one reason: in hopes that someone hears this and knows it doesn’t always have to be so dark. Things get better, maybe not all at once but I promise they do. I never thought I would be able to climb my way out of the pits of hell. I struggled with constantly feeling like I was just digging myself into a deeper hole. Through the adversity that I’ve experienced in my life, I’ve grown as a person and I’ve turned into a woman that I can say that I’m proud to be. It’s not always sunshine and rainbows but I know that the clouds in the sky will part and the rays of the sun will kiss my skin. I always carry hope in my heart and I truly believe things will be okay as long as I continue to keep my goals in mind. I finally understand that I have a purpose in life and that’s to help people. I know I can only achieve that goal if I continue to better myself and it’s been hard work but it’s had to be done.

#autobiography #writing #book

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winryofresembool · 4 years

Text

Things We Lost in the Fire, ch 5

aka Caleo uni au

Fic summary: Calypso starts studying at a new university, but to her annoyance her new flatmate is a loud mouthed mechanic who also likes to sneak his dog in whenever. But as she learns to know him better, she realizes they might have more in common than what she first thought. Eventually, even the darkest secrets come out…

Chapter summary: Fire alarms make a good reason to talk to your flatmate.

A/N: New chapter! This isn't the longest but we get some important hints about Leo's past. I wanted to involve fire into his story somehow and, well, this is what happened.

Thanks to Cris for betaing and a huge shoutout to smoustart on ig for making this awesome piece of art for this fic!

Please enjoy and leave a comment if you like this fic because that can literally make my day and it sure as heck makes me more motivated to continue it!

Characters in this ch: Leo, Calypso

Words: 1400+

Genre: romance & hurt/comfort

Warnings: none

previous chapter / next chapter / AO3

...

"Damn that fire alarm!" Calypso growled to herself as the device made the beeping sound again. "I can't focus when it's doing that."

She had been working on her latest literature assignment ("write a detailed character analysis on one of the characters in Odyssey") when the fire alarm had started making a sound that Calypso suspected meant it was running out of battery. Unfortunately, she didn't have tools of her own so she had no idea how she'd manage to change them before the sound would drive her mad. She didn't want to give up so easily, though, so she took one of her hair pins and climbed on a chair, attempting to unscrew the fire alarm with the pin. However, she had no success. The pin was too thick and the alarm was a bit too high for her, so she had to stand on her toes to reach it in the first place. That's why, when she heard a door open, she nearly lost her balance because she got startled by the sudden sound.

"Wow, wow! Woman! What are you doing?" her flatmate yelped when he rushed to give her his hand so she wouldn't fall from the chair.

Calypso was embarrassed that he had seen that scene unfold, so she let go of his hand immediately once she was standing steadily on the floor and said a bit more rudely than what she had meant: "What does it look like? Trying to change the battery, of course."

"No offense, Sunshine, but were you really trying to open it with a hair pin?" Leo asked, amusement clear in his voice. "Like, sure, hair pins can be used for many things but I'm pretty sure there are better tools for that."

Calypso squinted at him. "First of all, don't call me Sunshine. Second of all, Mister Mechanic, I don't carry tools around everywhere unlike some people. So please get yours and change those damn batteries."

Leo was no longer affected by Calypso's tone. He was secretly happy that for once he'd be good for something.

“Gladly, Sunshine,” he replied cheerfully, emphasizing the Sunshine part. He was already wearing his toolbelt with a screwdriver peeking from it and he seemed unfazed when their fingers touched for a moment as Calypso handed him the batteries she had been planning to use.

“By the way, you’re buying the next batteries in case these will stop working too before either of us has moved out,” Calypso noted as she watched Leo picking the suitable tool for opening the fire alarm.

“That’s fair enough,” Leo said, still smiling as he focused on his mission. Calypso was slightly surprised by his calmness. She was fully aware that she was not acting like her usual self in his company, and at first it seemed to have irritated Leo, but now? He didn’t seem to care. He had taken an entirely new approach and she didn’t know what to think of it.

Leo climbed on the chair (not having issues reaching the alarm since he was about 10 centimeters taller than Calypso) and started unscrewing the lid. When he got it done, he gave the lid for Calypso to hold while he put the new batteries in. Standing in such a close proximity, Calypso noticed the scars on Leo’s olive colored arms that were left uncovered by his T-shirt. She wanted to ask about them but she didn’t know how he’d feel about it so the only thing that came out of her mouth was an “ummm…”

“Yeah? Were you gonna say something?” Leo asked nonchalantly while still switching the batteries.

“Never mind. It’s. It’s none of my business.” Calypso shrugged.

“What is?” Leo kept insisting.

“I was…” Calypso felt her cheeks getting hot. “…just wondering where you got those scars.”

Now Leo’s smile finally faded. He shook his head. “A fire. Long time ago. That’s all.” It meant she wasn’t allowed to ask more questions about that, and she got the hint.

“I’m sorry.”

“Well, what happened, happened.” He sighed, climbing down the chair. “But now that we’re getting serious, can I ask you a question? Why do you act like that? Like you hate me? I’m trying my hardest to think of what I really did wrong but I can’t think of anything other than me just being generally annoying. Most people get past that in about two weeks. But I can’t get a grip of you.”

“It’s complicated.” Calypso said, similar kind of sadness in her eyes as what she’d seen in Leo’s after her question. Then she realized that maybe they did have something in common: secrets about their past they didn’t want to share. “I… I don’t think I actually hate you. It has… something to do with my past. I don’t have a lot of good experiences with people, and… that’s why I’m quite cautious when I meet someone new these days. I admit that when I first saw you, I was… prejudiced. But as I’ve gotten to know you a bit better, I’ve noticed… some of the thoughts I had of you were probably wrong.”

Leo couldn’t help but snort at that confession. “Oh, then what were you expecting? Some tall, handsome, strong, heroic guy who actually prefers spending his time with people rather than with his machines?”

“That’s not it. You gave me a kind of obnoxious picture of yourself during our first conversation. And then your dog broke my desk… I guess that was the final straw. But you did fix it. And you helped me to change the batteries too,” she pointed at the fire alarm. “And I think I understand your machine craziness. You need a distraction, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Leo admitted, starting unconsciously fiddling with his toolbox again. “Doing something with my hands always helps me when I feel anxious or… whatever.”

Calypso could relate to that. “I’m the same. I mean, I’m not as good with tools as you are, but I take care of my flowers, sew, knit, draw… that kind of stuff.”

“I see.” Leo nodded. “Hey, is it just me or did we just have our first proper conversation? Just wait till Jason and Piper are gonna hear about this!”

“What?” Calypso asked, confused about what Leo’s friends had to do with that.

“Oh, sorry.” Leo looked embarrassed, realizing he had said too much. “I probably shouldn’t have said that. But, um, the thing is, I… kinda made a deal with my friends that I would talk to you. Because they thought I was acting stupid. But I swear, this wasn’t planned, I heard the fire alarm too and I didn’t know you were already trying to take care of it. So I was 100 per cent honest about everything I said. Leo Valdez doesn’t lie.”

Calypso raised her eyebrow, but this time there was actually no maliciousness in her voice when she asked: “Oh, so you were talking about me to your friends? I wonder what you said.”

Leo’s face turned as hot as a tomato: “Not-nothing bad! Just that we weren’t off to a good start, but…”

“Relax,” Calypso stopped him, a hint of smile on her face. “You don’t have to tell me more.”

“Huh? You’re not mad?” Leo’s eyebrows disappeared behind his long, curly fringe.

“Nah. I have to admit I may have mentioned you to someone at the uni as well. Turns out she had heard of you too,” Calypso giggled at Leo’s surprised expression. The surprise didn’t last long, though, because it turned into a grin as Leo said:

“That’s the Valdez effect for you! Of course all the ladies have heard of me, I’m irresistible!”

“Right now you’re being pretty resistible, though.” Calypso rolled her eyes, but her mouth twitched with amusement.

“Huh? You’re not feeling my charm?”

“No! Absolutely not!” she said coldly, resting her hands on her hips.

Leo pretended to feel upset by her comment. “Just wait, I will win you over!”

“Oh, we’ll see about that,” Calypso stuck her tongue out. “Hey, if you are done with your weirdness now, I’d like to test if the fire alarm works.”

“What?”

Before Leo had time to say more, Calypso pulled out matches from her pocket, climbed on the chair and took one stick out of the box. Before she managed to light it, though, Leo yelped, his face unnaturally pale: “No, don’t!”

“What’s wrong?” Calypso asked, turning to see him.

“It’s just… I hate the sound it makes, wait till I’m in my room,” he said but Calypso had a feeling that wasn’t the truth. She tried to think what could have possibly triggered him, and came up with only one possible solution: he was afraid of fire.

#caleo #leo valdez #calypso #heroes of olympus #percy jackson and the olympians #trials of apollo #my fics #caleo uni au

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jesswsc1 · 3 years

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Initially, I wasn’t overly sure how to interpret our title of ‘black books and black holes’. I’ve felt awfully low for a while, and it’s been heavy on my mind, so I figured I’d take this project as somewhat of an opportunity to reflect on the past, troubles i’ve had as well as using it as a kind of venting of current frustrations. These low points act as my own personal black hole, as I fall down into them for some time. Similarly to how black does, they absorb any kind of light surrounding. To me, at times, this has meant not enjoying things I’ve adored prior - such as spending time with loved ones, music and hobbies. Growing up there were several black holes, but amongst them I have fond memories with my cousins, siblings and childhood friends. Somebody who has always been there for me (whether it be through choice or not) has been my brother. I decided to incorporate pictures of us throughout my little black book as homage to him as he is truly one of my favourite people ever, despite the troubles I don’t think our bond has ever gone away - it’s merely taken small redirections. I have such admiration for him and know I can rely on him and speak free from judgement. Years ago, I believe it was 2013, he fell ill and this meant he had to be hospitalised for a couple months. It was really hard for my family and was of course even more difficult for him. Seeing as he was hospitalised, this meant regular trips to the hospital, on the car journeys we’d always have the same Passenger CD playing in the car. I guess we just never got around to changing it. On this CD was a particular song that we’d all sing along to, which funnily enough is called ‘holes’. Hearing this song now makes me feel so safe and hopeful, knowing it got me as well as my family through a rough period in time. I made sure to incorporate some of the lyrics into one of my book spreads. One line reads, ‘but we carry on’, which has definitely stuck with me.

The constellation element of our project had me reflecting on space and the universe, and what exactly it means to me. Although I’m not too into space, I’m definitely fond of the moon. After my parents divorced, I was left in custody of my mum for a while. A teacher told me to look at the moon, because she’d be looking at it too at the same time and thinking of me. During this time I was living in a troubled home (I made this house the exterior of my book*) and would be heavily supported by her in school. She’d give me notebooks to express myself in and explain what was happening, as well as a departing gift when I inevitably left to go live with my dad here in Bury. Despite being a small part of my life, she still means a lot to me and has a place in my heart. Though not physically present with me anymore, she cared enough to find me years later and reached out to make sure I'm doing fine. It's reassuring knowing there are people as pure as she is. Because of this I dedicated a small section of my book to her that looks like a slither of the moon when the pages are flipped back onto it.

My black book was titled ‘Wailing Ghosts’ by Pu Songling, containing 14 tales of various monsters and creatures, which is fitting to my work revolving around numerous burdens I have that seem to act as these little monsters also, creeping up every now and again. I did consider creating my own ‘chapters’, one for each black hole of mine, but didn’t want to structure my book in that way as I didn’t want to disrupt my creativity or force things.

I say ‘was’ because I actually decided I wasn’t all that keen on how i’d layed my pages out. I instead took a second black book and collaged, reworked and inserted pages into a new one. I’m really glad I did so, as I now have a book I much prefer over the first. An aspect I did keep relatively whole was the swirly, illusion-looking front cover with a hole burned through the centre, almost like a little entrance to another world. Stanley Donwood inspired this page through his swirly seas he often features in his works, as he uses a bold thick line against white ones. I opted to put this page underneath my front cover so it still got to be showcased - only cutting a part off the corners to make sure it fit.

Featured in my book are a few small self portraits, in varying cartoon-y styles. Some are only inspired by my face whilst others were drawn whilst staring into the mirror, then back at the page. Having struggled with low self esteem, there have been times where I don’t even want to perceive myself let alone interpret that into a drawing. Meanwhile doing my book work, I realised I have never drawn a self portrait - not since being a kid anyway - and had even actively avoided doing so during GCSE art. Over the past year or so, I’ve overcome an array of issues I’d had, so found myself able to draw these little portraits. It sounds pretty insane to me now that I would’ve found it so hard before, knowing I enjoyed coming up with various ways to put me in my book, even wanting to print pictures of me (sadly our printers decided to act up so I was not able to implement these). I feature my bathroom mirror on one page as it’s been the target of over-analyzing and although I have come far in self love, it still remains a deadly weapon.

Claude Heath’s sketchy, rough portraits inspired me to create my own. I really enjoy how reckless his style is, as I'm trying to escape the ‘this has to be perfect’ mentality, Heath is a great example of how you don’t need to overthink your work. It can just exist and look cool. It’s fine. This was also encouraged in Thursday drawing sessions where we did blind drawings. I kept this mindset whilst doing my book as I tend to either overwork myself trying to create ‘perfect’ or do absolutely nothing, so I went with the flow of how my book panned out.

Seeing as my work theme is a little on the darker side, I considered subduing the colours or perhaps even going full black and white. However, I love utilising colour in my art and felt this would make me feel unmotivated and uninspired. Especially seeing as this book is about me, it’s not insensitive to anybody to make it colorful and exciting. So, I have. Plus, despite everything I’m still smiling so I wanted to convey that somehow. Sort of, making the best out of bad situations. Damien Hirst’s usage of colours influenced me to just have fun with it, in the same way he does when creating his works.

Throughout my book I have experimented with oil pastel, paint, staples, collage, rorschach ink blotting, screen printing, spray paint, photocopied pictures, flip book, tracing paper, washi tape and i’m sure there’s more. Point is, I wanted to cover a wide range of techniques seeing as there were many pages. In doing so I believe this was the best way as it meant there was a flow of ideas coming as I worked. I’ve learned that I love a range of ways of working as it keeps my brain ticking, meaning the work doesn’t feel stagnant and dull. Sadly there were lots more ideas I had for what to do into my book, but due to various reasons I couldn't. Such as wanting to sew using a sewing machine into my book, I tried to set my sewing machine up but when I would go to sew the thread would snap. But I believe it’s definitely something worth trying another time, as I was intrigued to see how it’d turn out. I also wanted to make a better flip book from the corner of my little page (see animation on blog) as it’s really simplistic. But drawing the little stick men alone took me an hour or so, and I didn’t see that being of much importance compared to getting actual pages filled out. Thus, I left it as a simple stickman. That being said I think the stick man illustrates the cycle of being in a slump, which is relatable to how lockdown is feeling and fits well with my book contents. I felt inspired by an artist who goes by ‘inhalerqueen’ (Amanda) on tiktok, who draws a simple, silhouette-like figure repeatedly. She calls this figure ‘void’ and i’d consider her work to be vent art, expressing how she feels. Originally I wanted to make my stick men look like void, however I don’t think that would be all that beneficial/change the effectiveness and would only take up more time.

If I were to have a soundtrack to my work I would opt for ‘Yellow’ by Coldplay. Reason being, regardless of my state of mind I return to this song and feel the same listening through every time. It’s such a lovely song and just feels like peace, as cheesy as that may sound considering Coldplay is very much dad music. It reminds me of my yellows, and how much they mean to me. Even with the black, I have my yellows. Lyrics to the song can be found in my book also.

Overall, I’m relatively pleased with my work. There’s no doubt things I would do differently, but I’m glad I’ve had this experience and was able to vent a little similarly to how Amanda does. In future I hope to perhaps recreate this book and treat it as kind of a ‘rough’ or ‘plan’ for a more refined and thought-out version, perhaps this time with chapters like I'd considered and with ideas I didn’t get to delve into. There are pages I’m not so keen on, but I’m proud of myself for just leaving them as opposed to overworking them and/or scrapping them just because they aren’t what I like. I love the pictures of me and my brother, if I could I would’ve collaged more into my book however our printer simply wouldn’t allow it. As well as the exterior of the book, as I think it adds a personal element as opposed to being left as it was.

#blackbooksandblackholes #jessblackbooksandblackholes

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