#If disappointment is enough to tarnish it all for you then you need therapy

[thedaltonsanctuary]

Welcome ARIELLA CALDERON to the Dalton Sanctuary as a SUBMISSIVE RESIDENT. Please send in your blog within the next 48 hours or we will have to reopen your role. You may begin dash activity immediately, no need to wait for anything else once your blog is made.

✎ OUT OF CHARACTER INFORMATION

ALIAS/PRONOUNS: Cherry AGE: (18+ only) 27 TIMEZONE: EST TRIGGERS: See past apps ANYTHING ELSE: (like your fc if it isn’t already canon) Selena Gomez

✎ IN CHARACTER INFORMATION

NAME: Ariella Calderon AGE/BIRTHDAY: (21+ only) 26, August 3rd GENDER/PRONOUNS: she/her SUB/DOMINANT/SWITCH?: Submissive STAFF/RESIDENT/VISITOR?: Resident SEXUAL ORIENTATION: homoflexible KINKS: tbd in play ANTI-KINKS: scat, vore, watersports, nonsexual bodily fluids, age play, just ask if you’re unsure.

✎ BRIEF BIOGRAPHY

Born to Marisol Riviera-Calderon and Miguel Calderon, an English teacher and an architect, Ariella grew up in a low-upper class. Money was never something her family ever worried about, though they did not live extravagantly and Ari was always taught to be kind, compassionate, and most of all, humble. Growing up as an only child, Ariella was the apple of her parents’ eye, and any and every whim she ever could’ve had was encouraged and supported. In her childhood, she tried activities such as dance, gymnastics, cheerleading, and baton twirling. While she still dances occasionally, as she grew she began to focus more on the cheerleading and gymnastics aspects of her training. Ariella was also very focused on her studies, always coming in near the top of every class.

Having an English teacher for a mother, Ariella grew up with a love of books, reading, and writing as well. Always aspiring to be just like her biggest role model, her mother, she recently graduated from university with her degree in Secondary English Education. Although never really involved with romantic relationships, Ariella remains a complete and total virgin. Throughout school, she was a very straight laced girl, never wanting to disappoint her parents or ruin her potential future. She never so much as earned herself a detention or reprimand from anyone. However, her squeaky-clean image was tarnished during her senior year of high school, when during the one and only date she was ever asked on requested she accompany him to a party.

There, Ariella’s drink was spiked, and the individual took advantage of her, even taking pictures without her consent. Although he didn’t go all the way, he did enough. Word got around, and she was labeled a ‘slut’ by the same people who’d voted her Student Council President two years in a row. Embarrassed and ashamed, Ariella became a hermit, and is still very shy and unsure of how to create connections. Seeing an opportunity for escape, following her graduation from college (for the duration of which she lived with her parents), Ariella moved across the country to Florida, where she rented a small apartment and landed her first teaching gig. Unfortunately, bad luck followed her. A year and a half into her new life, an old classmate moved into town and took a job at the same school she was teaching at, as the Phys Ed. teacher. In no time at all, it was proven the individual possessed no shame and no maturity and within no time at all, those old photos were leaked to the entire faculty, staff, and student body. Ariella found herself completely shamed. Having never sought therapy after the incident, and having been humiliated once again, it was suggested to her by the Superintendent of her school system that she seek treatment at Dalton.

Having no real plan and feeling as though she’ll never be able to move forward from the shame she’s felt, Ari packed up and moved in as a Resident. Completely and utterly Submissive in every sense of the word, Ariella is compassionate, empathetic, and an all-around sweetheart. However, at her worst, she is shy, quiet, a wallflower, and incredibly unsure of herself.

[seouledbysisi]

Ambitious Dreams

Chapter Nine

Three weeks later

Nova sat in a waiting room. She looked around at the swollen bellies. She had actually coped with the pregnancy, might as well since she couldn’t change it and honestly she was bluffing about the abortion thing. Truth be told she didn’t believe in taking a life whether it was born or not. Her parents weren’t happy with her especially when she told them that she wasn’t giving up on her internship. She was going to ride it out as long as she could and if they couldn’t understand that then so be it! All of the pregnant women had a glow. A glow that she just didn’t have. The fathers even had a glow. She saddened a bit. Her child would never experience that type of happiness. Her child had irresponsible parents who hadn’t even planned on having her. The mother was striving to become a stylist. At least her father would be someone it could look up to. He was making a name for himself and was gaining success. A tear escaped her eye.

Nori looked over at her and squeezed her hand. “It’s going to be okay.” She gave her a small smile.

Nova nodded with a smile. “I know. I’m just second-guessing myself as usual.” She shrugged.

“Nova Chaplin?” A lady in a unicorn scrub called.

Nova took a deep breath and raised her hand. She looked to Nori. “Come with me?”

Nori looked over at the entrance door.

Ash had emerged. He was late but he was there. “I’m sorry I’m late.” He told her immediately.

Nova glared at Nori.

Nori raised her hands up. “I’m sorry I just thought he should be here.”

“I won’t go back there with you, I’m fine sitting here if you’d rather Nori go back. I just wanted you to know that you’re not alone.” Ash reassured.

Nova nodded. “Come on.” She said plainly.

Nori patted Ash’s shoulder. “She’s talking about you.” She smiled.

Ash looked up at her with grateful eyes. “Thank you.” He said and walked to the back with her.

They waited in the patient room. Not having said a word to one another.

The doctor finally came in with the nurse towing in behind her.

She and Nori had decided to go with a OB-GYN’s office in Hongdae because they had a doctor who was also fluent in English.

“First time parents?” The beautiful lady with coal black hair asked as she got her equipment ready.

Nova nodded. “Is it obvious?”

The doctor chuckled. “Very. You both are quiet as a mouse and you look nervous.”

Ash cleared his throat and repositioned in his seat. He had a lot to say and so many questions he wanted to ask but he’d better not push his luck. He was just thankful that she was allowing him this opportunity.

“I’m going to lie you back and we’ll get started. Nothing will hurt. The gel that goes on stomach will be very cold but that’s the gist of the discomfort.” She told her and squeezed the gel onto her belly.

Nova jumped at the contact. She stilled.

“You alright?” The doctor asked.

Nova nodded.

“How about you daddy?” She directed at Ash.

He laughed a bit. “I think I’m good.” He answered as he watched the screen. He could hear the monitor but no distinct sounds.

The doctor grinned. “You see that right there?”

Nova and Ash both nodded.

“Say hello to your baby.” She responded.

Nova felt something overwhelming. A feeling she had never felt before. Suddenly she couldn’t control her emotions and began to cry. “My baby.” She looked over at Ash with so much joy. “Your baby.”

He grabbed her hand and caressed it. “Our baby.” He grinned.

“And that noise is your baby’s heartbeat, you’re measuring at about ten weeks.”

“So when is she due?” Ash asked. He could already see himself going shopping for everything that the baby would need. He was itching to buy some things that same day.

The doctor smiled. “Around May 18.” She cleaned Nova’s stomach off and left out.

Ash clasped his hands together. He couldn’t wipe the smirk off of his face. He was happy. Yes, it was unexpected and the tension was high between him and Nova; but he honestly wouldn’t want to go through parenthood with anyone else. Nova was a great woman and he respected the hell out of her whether she believed that or not. He knew his child was in good hands with or without him and that made me him happy. “How do you feel? Is it okay for me to ask?”

She nodded. “I’ve come to terms with it. My parents are highly disappointed in me though.” She wrapped her arms around herself.

“I can imagine. My mother wasn’t the happiest but she said any help that we needed she was here for us. She just imagined a grandchild later in the future.”

Nova nodded. “Does she know that your child is only half Korean?” She giggled a bit.

“Yeah and she doesn’t care. She’s never cared about race and anything else like that. She just wants the baby to be healthy.” Ash smirked.

“Lucky me. My parents want me to come back to the states immediately.” She revealed.

Anxiety rose in his veins. “And are you?”

“That’s the main reason for their disappointment in me. They don’t think I can handle being a mother without them being around 24/7. I can’t just leave my internship. I’ve worked too hard to get where I am and if I’m ever going to be able to financially support my baby then I need this job. And I-“ she took a deep breath and paused. “I can’t just take the baby away from you either. No matter how I feel about you, our child doesn’t have anything to do with it and she deserves you.”

Ash nodded. “I know you don’t believe a word that comes out of my mouth anymore but I’m not just here for the baby, I’m here for you too.” He stood and helped her off of the examine table.

“Thanks.” She told him and headed back into the waiting room to find Nori.

Nori looked up from her phone. “So how’d it go?” She was excited.

“We’re due in May. The baby is healthy.” Nova told her.

Nori eyed Ash as they walked outside. “And how’s?”

“We’re straight, for the baby of course. We’ll be able to co-parent.” Nova told her plainly.

Ash waved. “I’ll see y’all later.” He got into his vehicle and sat in it for a while. He covered his face. He desperately wanted Nova back, more than ever now. She never was really his but she was closer to him than she is now. All over a dumb bet that was never really in play. He understand her standpoint though, and there was no way of proving his innocence.”

Nori pulled up to the studio. “I should’ve asked but you’re cool being here, right?”

Nova laughed. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you haven’t really been chilling with us all lately.”

“I just needed time to deal with. . .life.” They both got out of the vehicle and walked into the building.

The guys were all sitting around listening to Keem lay his verse down.

“That’s bae!” Nori squealed as she nodded her head to the music.

Nova smirked and sat on the couch next to Hash. Elle was sitting on the other side of him. “Y’all are getting closer and closer!” Nova stated with a smile.

Elle blushed. “Just a little.” She squeezed his arm. “So how’s baby Ash?” She asked in sincerity.

Nova rolled her eyes. “Baby Nova, you mean?”

Ash walked into the studio and found a seat in a far corner.

Nova stilled. “The baby is fine though. She will make her grand appearance in May!”

Changmo laughed. “So we’re betting on what the baby will be, right?” He regretted what he had said immediately when Nova’s facial expression turned sour.

“No more bets please!” Ash interrupted and rolled his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Nova. I wasn’t thinking when I said that. I really wasn’t.” Changmo apologized.

Nova put her hand up. “It’s not a big deal. It happened and I’m over it.” She lied. She wasn’t over it. Her feelings were still hurt. Every time she looked at Ash it reminded her. She wondered if everything had been a joke and he was just trying to make things right because there was a baby involved. What other guy would still be apologizing over and over for three weeks.

Marz got into the booth next. His lyrics captured everyone’s attention. You was killing me from the inside out.

Nova knew this relationship was toxic for him and Jangmi. They either needed therapy together or they needed to call it quits because it wasn’t healthy. They both were suffering a great loss and if they weren’t careful it was going to destroy their whole mental capacity.

Jangmi walked in with Lee.

The whole aura went dark. Everyone stayed quiet. The tension was so thick you could cut it.

“Ash, have you no respect for yourself?” Lee questioned.

Ash was knocked out of his trance. “What?!”

“You had such a bright future and you’ve tarnished it with being linked to that bitch for the rest of your life.” She pointed at Nova.

Ash looked up at her. He had enough of her drama and disrespectful actions. “Lee, why the fuck are you here? You’re like cancer that keeps spreading and spreading until it kills everyone. No one wants you here!”

She was startled at his words. “I’m just saying you can do better. What do you think your fans are going to say?”

He stood up towering over her. “Anyone who is a fan of mines will be a fan of my child. And if you say one more negative thing about Nova, we gonna have some problems!” He pushed past her and stormed off.

Nova stood up and followed him. “Ash?!” She ran down the hall trying to find him. He was sitting on one of the couches in an open common area. His leg was shaking. He was angry. “Ash, calm down.” She spoke softly.

He looked up at her. “Nova, I’m not in the mood and I don’t want to take my anger out on you. Just go back!”

She swallowed hard. She took a step back. “I just wanted to say thank you. . .for sticking up for me.” She turned to walk away.

He groaned. “I just wish there was some way we could go back in time, Nova! You have no idea how much I want you right now. How much I need you, right now! You think this is all a game and it’s not. My heart is ripping apart. The heart I worked so hard to put back together and it’s back, but worse! I know you’re hurt and you’re stubborn so you don’t want to hear all of this but I would never let someone down you like that. I just pray one day you’ll realize the truth.” He was angry, partially at Lee but more at Nova herself. Had she not shared all the moments they had with him? How could they all be fake? How could she walk around like nothing had ever happened?

Nova simply stared at him. He wouldn’t even look at her and she understood his frustration but if she hadn’t heard it for herself she would’ve never believed there was ever a bet but she heard them talking about it so how could she not believe it? She simply walked away. As she got closer to the studio suite she could see Marz sitting on the floor. She slid down the wall next to him.

He looked over at her. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

She smiled. “I think we’re both lost. Maybe sitting here we can help each other be found.” She giggled a bit.

“Why are you so lost?” Marz asked.

Nova sighed. “Well I got a baby on the way by a guy who betted on sleeping with me, so now I’m all alone. And as much as I hate myself for admitting this, especially to you, he’s not even the one I originally liked.”

Marz looked over at her quickly. “Who’d you like?”

Nova rolled her eyes. “Can you believe I had my eyes on you?!” She laughed. “Until you treated me like I was some type of contagious disease, then I was just downright scared of you.”

Marz laughed. “I had to stay away from you.”

“Why?” She eyed him.

“Cause of Jangmi. She’s crazy.” He laughed. “She knew that you were catching my eye too and she used the-“ he coughed and took a deep breath. “The death of our child against me to keep me away from you.”

Nova shook her head. “She had nothing to worry about, I knew she was your girlfriend and I would never overstep boundaries. That’s not my style.”

“That’s the thing, she wasn’t worried about you. She was worried about me leaving her. She knows I’m not happy. Hell, she isn’t either but she’d rather keep me around to beat me up about the baby. It makes her feel better.” Marz closed his eyes.

Nova saddened a bit. They both were catching hell. His version was much worse though and she wished he didn’t have to go through it. “That’s really cruel of her. Have you thought about going to therapy?”

He nodded. “I have my first appointment next Tuesday.”

She smiled. “I’m happy for you. Are you scared?”

“I’m more scared of not getting any help. I feel like I’m losing all my sanity. I can’t live like this anymore. I’m too young and as much as I love her and wish this had never happened, we’ll never get past it being together.”

Nova nodded. “So you broke things off with her?”

“Yep and she slapped me.” He turned his face and his was bloodshot red.

“Damn! Well at least in time you’ll feel better. Maybe not on next Tuesday but the therapy will help. Bottling up feelings isn’t good.” Nova rubbed his thigh.

Marz smiled. “And so will you. I know you heard what you heard but I also know how Ash is with someone he really likes, maybe even loves. He loves hard. That’s what pissed me off so much, because he could have something that I couldn’t. You were an idea for me but for him you were reality and I hated it so I passively treated you like shit and that wasn’t fair.”

Nova’s breath hitched.

“And I know you probably think he’s sticking around for the baby but truth is even if that wasn’t a factor he’d be stuck to you like glue. That’s the type of guy he is.” Marz inhaled deeply. “Better than me, right?” He chuckled.

Nova stayed quiet for a moment. “We’re gonna make it thru this. Together. When you need someone to talk to. Maybe we can be real friends.”

“I think that would be nice. You might fuck around and be my best friend.” Marz said and nudged her with his arm a bit.

Nori sat on Hyoeun’s lap and winded her hips to the music.

“Don’t start nothing!” He told her in her ear.

She giggled. “That’s what I’m trying to do!” Her phone pinged back to back.

Where are you?

Are you busy?

I need you.

Hyoeun could see the messages. He sighed. They had never really spoken about each other exes but he could sense that these messages were ex material.

She texted back quickly. Is something wrong?

She carried along dancing on her new man, trying to forget about the messages but Harry was texting back faster than he had ever.

I miss you. I thought this would be better but it’s not. Can we talk?

Nori went back and forth in her head. Part of her wanted to hear what he had to say so she could shut his ass down. Karma was a bitch! But the other part wanted to just let the demons sleep and enjoy the bliss of Hyoeun for as long as she could. I’m busy. Maybe another time.

She placed her phone on do not disturb. The only ones who would need to contact her were in the building with her so it didn’t matter anyway.

[emotionalyodeling]

zach and i were supposed to meet up today however i. literally do not even know where to begin with this shit like. my heart feels so heavy and im just exhausted and i know if i saw him i’d just cry a lot because i wouldn’t know what to do. im just gonna unpack what happened.

during the week of the height of the kevin drama i went to zachs for support and insisted on having no sex beforehand. however he was really horny so and kind of kept hinting/asking for it and we made out but like it did not mean yes imo b/c just b/c im fine with making out doesn’t mean im fine with going all the way. anyhow we made out and he asked me and i was like ok fine, and then after i felt used + not sure about how consensual it was because i had literally said the day before, no sex, and it happened anyways and it confused me a lot. i am worried that it’s just sex that i didn’t enjoy and not sex i was forced into. i dont think i remember feeling pressured? but i dont remember. anyhow so that was the starting incident. i think even tho it could be an issue of feeling used, this still should not have happened, and it still does make me uncomfortable and feel awful that it happened. 

i brought it up impulsively on discord and he felt bad about it. i dont remember what happened other than he sent a lot of worried/potentially guilt trippy messages (am i just like kevin?) to which i tried to comfort but also tried to stay firm in like this was messed up. anyhow we didn’t really address it super in depth but we both agreed to take a break from sex, or at the very least to be careful and let me initiate it.

cue the corpus trip, which was ok and we did want to do more sexy stuff and eventually ended up doing such b/c ur with ur partner at night and stuff. idk i feel like i initiated it so it was fine. but anyhow it was a trip, i dont think it was especially good since we didn’t rlly do much ., which made me feel kind of bad b/c he revealed to me later that he was disappointed we hadn’t done more. lots of gas and exhaustion for just one day of essentially ordering food and watching anime. anyhow when we got back he was like rlly horny again and was like lets do it and i was like huh i need foreplay and he was like well i dont which just absolutely enraged me. partly because usually i do not orgasm when we have sex and i do feel overlooked and stuff a lot. anyways i was upset and did not want to speak to him and we were both at his house so i kind of just like. sat in his bed. he also tried to halfheartedly finger me which set me off again b/c it’s like dude. u do not care about my pleasure. u just wanna get ur dick wet. and it pissed me off a bunch. 

anyhow, unsavory comment aside, he felt bad and left me alone and then he came back inside to talk and i basically told him that he hurt me with the stuff that went on the week before and the corpus stuff. zach was very sad and cried a lot and i felt very bad but also knew that my feelings could not be helped. the whole time he was very afraid of me breaking up with him, and like. i honestly was not going to at that point-nor am i sure of wanting to now. i basically told him that i loved him and that we could talk it out.

cue next week when i did not sleep enough and was exhausted and wanted to go nap. he was also in bed with me and we kind of made out but. i ultimately told him i just wanted to nap. but he like kind of kept making out and trying to convince me and i literally had to tell him like. stop. this is manipulative. for him to not do stuff. he felt bad but we didn’t rlly talk about it after. and i believe we had sex when i was done napping and didn’t feel as tired which was fine, but the incident before definitely tarnished my view of him.

anyhow the next weekend i realized that i was like. severely upset. and that all the communication in the world could not help us because his actions had hurt me especially since they came along with like. kevin incident. i basically have a very sensitive gague to like sexual assault and dubious consent makes me extremely uncomfortable. anyways i basically realized that i was really upset with zach for things that he’s said (its just a grope). also i just got really upset as to like. why these things even happened like. if i say no sex i want that to be respected and i don’t want u trying to convince me and asking me bc i said no. if i say i need foreplay that’s what i need and it’s not about you. if i say i want to nap, while i may make out, don’t try to convince me otherwise because i said no. ughhhgf. i really am so upset about this. i think it might be wiser to just breakup and go to therapy because like. i honestly don’t think i can be in a relationship or waiting to be in a relationship with someone who disrespected my boundaries. and it sucks a lot and i dont know what to do because honestly telling him this will probably destroy him but like i. 

[theladylikesfics]

Help

Another request prompt from the lovely G’Anna. 

Trigger Warning, mentions of abuse. 

 It was cliché, you knew it, which is why you were slightly bothered by it; you had a crush on a co-worker. Not that there was anything wrong with having a crush it just seemed so ordinary and you had made it point to be anything but ordinary. Even in your job, you were a social worker and whereas others would run from the difficult cases you’d made it a point to go back to school, getting two more additional degrees so that you could specialize in those difficult tough cases. Being a social worker, it was your job to care but more than that it was simply embedded in you. You were the type that made it a point to keep business and pleasure, home and work life separate. You didn’t interact much with your co-worker outside of work and you preferred it that way. On the exterior, you may come off as a bit stand-offish and aloof but really that was just your self-care. Unfortunately, you’d been hurt so many times and disappointed in the overall nature of people because of your job, you preferred not to see any of your co-workers in that light. You kept to yourself, did an amazing job at work and took exceptional care of those you kept close to your heart. Another reason why this crush on Shownu was so unexpected.

It all started with an unfortunate encounter with a rude family; you understand they weren’t all responsible for the situation one of your current cases was living in but you knew they were enabling the primary caregivers that were allowing the activities to occur. Coming out of the elevator you weren’t expecting to still see the family in the downstairs common area of the building; but there they were, loud, and confrontational. Although you did your best efforts to put distance between yourself and them they still manage to get close enough to you to knock your briefcase out of your hand before security could remove them. “I’m so sorry that happened to you, here, please let me help.” A strong but soothing voice said to you stooping down to help you pick up your scattered papers. “It’s okay. It’s fine. I’ve got it.” “Please let me help, your hands, they’re shaking.” You were doing a terrible job of holding back just how rattled the experience had made you, the fact that he’d noticed your shaking hands proved so and that made you angry. Angry that you couldn’t control a situation that was out of your control and that you work persona of fearless cool strength might be tarnished. “No. Really I’m fine.” You snapped at him more harshly than you wanted to and that he deserved. He gently placed the piled of papers he’d gathered up in front you and stood up slowly. You expected him to walk away but instead, he just stood there watching you. When you finished he offered a hand to help you stand, reluctantly you accepted it. “I’m sorry about that…” “Listen, its okay to be rattled by something like that. No one is going to think that you’re less than something that you are.” Embarrassment washed over you like a cold rain. “Shownu, I’m sorry, I totally just took that out on you and I’m so sorry.” “It's okay. Try to enjoy the rest of your day.” He walked off heading towards the elevator and were left standing there trying to gather the rest of your nerves before heading out.

Shownu was beautiful. His face looked like sculpted marble. Strongly defined jawline, full cheeks that blossomed when he smiled, broad shoulders that flowed into masculine strong arms, a torso that showed he worked out and a cute ass too boot. He was a classic gentle giant. His voice was the perfect soothing baritone when he spoke, and when he spoke, the way his plush lips moved had you wondering if they were as soft as they looked. You were smitten and you hated it. You started to notice all the nuances about him, the neat way he dressed, the way he interacted with other co-workers, the way he interacted with the family of his cases and his overall work as a whole; but what truly caught your attention is that he, for the most part, was quiet. Shownu, much like yourself, would come in, acknowledge those around him with a polite smile, hand wave or head nod and would go about his day at work. There weren’t any gatherings or overt water cooler conversations he just simply did his day.

Continuing to still work on the of the McGill family you became visibly distressed over new allegations from other family members.  Reports of potential elderly abuse, possible retaliation for the initial report being filed. As you reviewed the report, a wave of sadness swept over you, your heart broke at the unsettling images and the statements made in the police report; before you knew it you were actually crying. Going into social work you knew that you would have to be a tough exterior and interior to deal with the emotional stress, over the years you’d worked hard to build up that defense and learn ways to release the stress. But this case, cracked a chunk out of the foundation of your wall and everything crumpled and before you could control it, you were crying at your desk trying not to let it fall into a huge body shaking sob. It was lunchtime and a birthday, so most of the staff had moved away from the main floor to celebrate with a potluck. You weren’t fond of them anyway so it wasn’t a surprise when you stayed at your desk to work, you were so focus on the case report you hadn’t noticed Shownu had also stayed. You felt the presence of a warm body near you, he gently extended the box of Kleenex to you as he squatted in front of you. You sat there for another minute gently weeping, dabbing at your tears and nose, all the while Shownu hadn’t spoken a word just sat there with a quiet understanding that you were upset. “Thank you. Sorry I don’t do this at work ever.” You began, trying to reign in control not only on yourself but on the current situation. “Do you honestly care that much?” He asked. The way he asked the question, he said it with full on understanding that yes, it’s the case that’s making you weep, he wasn’t being judgemental or snotty, just pure an understanding. “It just got more complicated. Its no longer just about the children but also the grandmother and uncle who reported it. Police were called to their home last night. They were assaulted by the same angry father that you met 2 weeks ago. He’s been arrested but the way he hurt them…” You got choked up again at the images that suddenly flashed back into your mind. “Hey, it's okay. It's okay. I’m hungry, are you hungry, I noticed you didn’t go to the potluck either. I could really go for a wings and things basket from Zaxby’s extra toast and extra Zax sauce, would you like to go with me, my treat?” At the mention of food, you actually wanted your stomach growled loudly, embarrassing you and causing a hearty boisterous laugh to pour from Shownu’s core. You’d never heard him really laugh before and the sound of it was everything your soul needed in that moment. You accepted the offer of lunch and gathered your jacket and handbag. At the restaurant, Shownu told you about why he became a social worker and his most difficult case.

“When we were kids, Suzy and were neighbors. I lived with my grandparents, she lived with hers along with her mom and whoever her mom was dating that week. When we were 10 I started noticing changes in her, she wasn’t as happy, it was a hot spring heading in to summer and was wearing long sleeves and jeans, things to cover up. One day walking back from the library, I saw her bolt out the front door as fast as she could, her mom’s current boyfriend drunkenly stumbling after her, throwing an empty pint bottle that shattered off the bottom step causing shards of glass to spray and cut her. She ran the long way around the block and ended up at the playground, cut and bleeding. I was eventually able to get her back to my home, my grandparents called the police, they picked up the scumbag but it was that night I learned of the abuse my friend had suffered. Fast Forward 12 years I’m doing my internship, sitting in observing cases and I end up with a Suzanna Western, accused of child neglect. The report made by a school teacher stated that the child was bright and appeared happy, but sometimes came to school a bit unkept, also he appeared to be and a bit smaller for his age. We get to the home and the minute the front door open and I saw those eyes I knew it was Suzy. She never quite got all the therapy help that she needed to deal with her abuse. She turned to drugs and prostitution to provide for her and her son. She’d caught an infection that had her sick and her son was doing his best to take care of her and him. The day the report was filed the water company had shut off the water for nonpayment and the neighbor they would depend on had already left for work that day. It broke my heart that my friend, someone who I’d love and cared for so much, had needed so much help and I had no idea. I keep flashing back feeling as though I failed her as a friend, My grandparents and I didn’t have much but we had enough to take her in and take care of her. She could have had a better future.” You were absolutely moved by his story. “What happened to her?” Setting his drink down on the table, a broad smile took over his face as he smiled. “We evaluated the home situation. Despite everything, she was doing her best to be a good mom. She had ethics about what she did, she always made sure Connor was at school, all her clients were done and she was home by 6pm at the latest. Her illness was simply unfortunate. We place Connor with an aunt of Suzy’s who had actually been searching for her. By chance Meradith, the aunt was a foster mother in our system. We got Suzy in the hospital, followed by rehab, and now she’s in school working on her nursing degree.” By the end of his statement, he was beaming. “Its okay that you care that much. Its okay that sometimes you’re so invested in a case that you cry. That means that you’ve not grown jaded to all the ugliness that sometimes this job brings. Crying means you’re still in touch, you’re still vested, and you still care.” You leaned back against your seat, absorbing his words feeling better about this path that you choose than you have in a good while. You gained a new level of admiration for Shownu in that moment. You felt his passion, understood his motivation and now new the source that continues to drive him. He’d seen how the system can work and fail all at the same time, he’d seen how a difference could be made, and he rejoiced in the fact that he himself had actually made a difference in the life of someone he had cared for. This conversation with him refreshed you better than a McDonald’s Sprite. You felt effervescent and lighter.

“Shownu, Thank you for that. You were right the other day, I do try to do everything myself and I don’t ask for help. I just, I don’t know I just feel that sometimes in order for it to be done right it just has to be me. I’ve seen to many cases when its gone wrong. I don’t know who else cares as much as I care. I just don’t want to be the reason why someone has gotten lost to the system,” Shownu finished cleaning his hands with a sanitizing wet wipe after his wings and dried them with a napkin. He reached across the short distance of the table, taking your left hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “I feel the same way. But I also know that if I really need help, there are others who care as much as I do, and who are willing to help. You don’t have to shoulder this alone.” You two sat in the booth, in quiet admiration of each other, appreciating finding a kindred spirit and a like mind in perfect contentment. Your crush may have just been amplified a few notches.

[parabcllums]

⧼    tom hardy, cis male, he & him   /   charlie boy by the lumineers   +   a tarnished wedding band near embedded in the depths of a faded leather wallet. well worn and oversized sweaters with too many threads pulled to count or warm denim jackets over wrinkled flannel shirts ; no inbetween, and no alternatives. a rueful smile and a distinct limp.    ⧽   ━━   let me tell you a thing or two about ADRIAN STEPHANOS TREVOR. the THIRTY SEVEN year old child of DIANA PRINCE & STEVE TREVOR is an INDEPENDENT JOURNALIST and STARBUCKS BARISTA in town, and has sometimes been referred to as THE MAUDLIN. they’ve always seemed very RIGHT MINDED & MUNIFICENT, though i’ve heard that they can be pretty IDIOSYNCRATIC & SELF DESTRUCTIVE, too. it’s common knowledge that they have the power of ENHANCED CONDITION ; guess we shouldn’t get on their bad side, huh? you can check out his stats HERE & his pinterest board HERE.

    wasn’t no HARM in him.             you’d give him a FLOWER, he’d keep it FOREVER.

SECTION ONE OF THREE: BULLET POINT HISTORY trigger warning for talk of gang activities ( including gbh ), prisons, the army ( including bombs, trauma sustained while serving, consequences - mentally & physically OF serving )

ah , here he is . this motherfucker. what a tool.

meet ADRIAN STEPHANOS TREVOR. he’s thirty seven years old, a twin, an older brother, a disappointment son. these days, he works as a starbucks barista and writes just enough articles in a year to be able to continue calling himself an “”independent journalist”” - but once upon a midnight dreary, ya boy was an army brat, and a little more recently, he was a member of one of london’s east end gangs.

diana prince and steve trevor were GOOD PARENTS. they WERE. when steve came back to life, he was DONE with fighting, and diana never could be. they found a middle ground, in their happiness, with steve staying in london where he ultimately raised the kids they had together, and diana continuing her hero work - the official term “co parenting”, though at times, her absence was felt. but not enough to be an excuse. adrian never doubted for one moment of his life that he was LOVED, and that his parents were ALWAYS going to be there for him. the path that adrian ultimately went down is thanks to nothing more than the environment that he grew up in, and the inherited need to DO RIGHT by the people he cared about.

it wasn’t hard for him to fall in with the wrong crowd of people, when he was younger. the east end has always been home to a whole variety of types, but if you were the sort of teen that adrian was - hot headed, quicker to throw a punch than he was talk it out, pretty bright, but never willing to apply himself - you were destined to draw the WRONG sort of attention. he was rebelling, for no particular reason, and in afterschool detention, he met the people that would shape his early life. they weren’t the gang. they liked to THINK of themselves as such, but they were just kids playing pretend - they walked the walk and they talked big but they weren’t QUITE there, but there enough that adrian got himself in to quite a bit of trouble.

he thought the world of them. this small squad of kids all around his age became like FAMILY, and he was willing to do anything, or go anywhere, if it meant keeping them in his eyes on them and maybe, keeping them out of trouble. to this day, he’ll say that’s how it started - he just wanted to keep his FRIENDS out of trouble. they were already in so much of it. how that led to destruction of property, petty vandalism, THE GREVIOUS BODILY HARM THAT GOT THEM ALL ARRESTED, no one really knows. likewise, to this day, no one from that gang of schoolkids has ever broken their silence on who exactly did the DAMAGE to that guy that pressed charges after being beaten half to death. it had to be one of them, but the police thought it was all of ‘em. when no one would reveal the truth, adrian and his “friends” all faced the same punishment. TWO YEARS, in her majesty’s prison woodhill - a young offenders institution willing to accept kids younger than eighteen, where adrian was to spend the latter half of his fifteenth year, his full sixteenth, and three months of his seventeenth.

loyalty to his troubled friends, all the better off for being locked behind bars, had gotten adrian stuck in the same situation. but loyalty, he learned in his time at woodhill, was currency. it was the difference between life or death.

it made sense, then - at least in HIS EYES - to join the british army. before his fall from grace, he had been seriously discussing the army cadets with steve. he’d kept in shape, had learnt some control over himself, and felt like that was where he BELONGED, upon release. before he knew it, he was EIGHTEEN years old and shipping out - and maybe it’s not right to say, but the army was probably the best place for him. for the next eight years, he did tours on and off, spending minimal time back home. sometimes, the only reason he even came back was for theora. and it was GOOD for him. it kept him off the streets. it kept him away from his old friends, and kept him from making new, worse ones. he had the routine that the young offenders institution had taught him. he had a place. a role. a reason, to keep getting up. by the time he was twenty seven, he was on the fast track to being someone BETTER -

his career came to a sudden end when the jeep that he and his team were driving in ran over a mine. he was one of an unlucky few - without his enhanced condition, he would have joined the rest in the AFTERLIFE. HE SURVIVED, but muscle and nerve damage meant that he lost the full use of his right leg, and maybe they would have given him a chance to try and improve, but no doctor was going to clear him for service again, thanks to the additional traumatic brain injury sustained. he was in a coma for a week. when he woke up… his general cognitive function was sure never to return to where it once was. he IMPROVED. he worked on it, in vain, hoping that he could still go back. but his memory was always going to be impaired. his brain was always going to be shot.

he was honorably discharged and he returned to the east end, a self professed failure.it only got worse. he wasn’t getting out of the house. he wasn’t taking visitors. diana and steve, theora, they could only do so much - and when he started to go down to the local, again, they thought that it was GOOD, that he was starting to come back to himself a bit. the truth was, he was back in contact with old friends. he was rubbing shoulders with the WRONG sort of people. he was getting himself INTO TROUBLE, again - putting himself into a difficult position of starting down the same path that had landed him in the youth institute, years before.

and then he got MARRIED. he never even told his mother. he had never thought of this particular old friend in that way until he DID, and he needed SOMEONE - ANYONE, back then, to latch onto. looking back, it was unfair. she was in a position of having to care for him, and deal with his WORST moods, which no one should have been in. but they convinced themselves it was love. they convinced themselves, in spite of the arguing, that they BELONGED together - right up until they couldn’t DO it anymore.

he self medicated, after. he stopped trying to get BETTER. and he WALLOWED. the only person he truly had anymore, he felt, was his TWIN - but it was UNFAIR to rely on them, so much. adrian’s darkest impulses at this point in his life were almost impossible not to listen to, and in a way, he got LUCKY.

a light at the end of the tunnel appeared, when the news came of the BABY. HIS. the product of a brief liaison with a sharp tongued lady that had swept him off HIS feet - he was an AFTERTHOUGHT, the text from a forgotten number that told him about their SON told him that much. but he would have done more, if he’d known. he told himself that, over and over, as he tried to work out what to do - and after a lot of uhmng and ahing, he decided that the RIGHT thing to do, the ONLY thing, was to leave for america hot on her heels. it wasn’t IDEAL. but being in a new country, trying to put himself onto some sort of straight and narrow so that he could BE a dad… it gave him hope that at the end of the day, maybe he could dig himself out of the mess that he had made out of his life.

he got a job. he’d already started working as an independent journalist in england, another way to pay the bills, but he got another - and he got CLEAN. no more drugs, even if he was still as much of an alcoholic as ever. he tried to be better, for his kid, the ACCIDENT that he LOVED, before he even met him - and because if he could do it, if he could make himself better, then maybe he could still get out. maybe he could create a safety net to fall into, if he finally cut ties.

SECTION TWO OF THREE: HEADCANONS

how to tell that underneath all his bad decisions he’s still actually a GOOD guy? his love of dogs. that’s it. he’s had a cool dozen over his entire life, but right now, he has THREE. paddy, his nine year old staffie x, dingle, his five year old irish wolfhound, and nessie, his six month old aussiedoodle. they’re all rescues, and they’re all.. so loved. he’s lowkey using them as therapy dogs without any sort of official therapy dog training cos why the fuck not.

he can’t concentrate as well as he used to be able to. he struggles to see how some actions he makes will have consequences. he speaks too low. he doesn’t always understand what’s being said to him, or what he’s saying. he doesn’t perceive things the same anymore, like certain tastes. he doesn’t catch the gist of certain patterns and things and struggles to interpret certain data correctly, sometimes. he doesn’t have great depth perception. he’s more susceptible to bouts of severe depression and irritability, he suffers from a severe sleep disorder, he’s not great with loud noises, he still walks with a incredibly pronounced limp, and he suffers chronic pain. he didn’t leave the army unscathed.

i cant believe thats all i got but its all i got.

SECTION THREE OF THREE: WANTED CONNECTIONS

his older sib ! his younger one ! the mother of his child ! all good connects !

friends from london.

friends he’s made since moving here.

someone please fucking hire him he’s a good gd bartender i dont even rmbr why i made him a barista but someone ,,pls,, get him out of that gd job

also SOMEONE please give his ass a platform… read his writing..he’s good…..hire him

ENEMIES ! from anywhere. for any reason. mayb they fought once. maybe he wrote the wrong name on their starbucks cup. go wild , the world is your oyster

justice league kids … literally any kids he could have grown up w like i dont think he was ALWAYS in england so … give him those #connections

also , army ppl. they could have served together. maybe.

army ppl he def didnt serve with but who he.. is..jealous of

or who he wants to help if theyve got it #rough cos yeah he’s been there

lit just…….plot..w.him

[artificialqueens]

I Deserve To Be a Winner (Sharon x Willam) - Rosie

A/N: Ages ago someone said they couldn’t imagine Willam and Sharon together but I could - this is how! This is set right after Sharon’s win, and is for the AQ Fic Challenge where I’ve included the words pretend, detox and hazy! Enjoy and tell me what you think here or at my blog @alaskadelneedles!

Summary: That one time Willam comforted Sharon in a time of need. 3.6k words.

Willam crossed her arms and frowned as she stood behind a thick veil of black curtains, intently watching the act on stage play out before her. Blue and purple lights danced across her knitted brow while the thumping music vibrated in her chest, wrapping around her heart and pumping in time with her pulse.

A bead of sweat escaped the confines of her wavy blonde wig and trickled down her temple. While her eyelids drooped with exhaustion and her feet stung from being molded into her Louboutin’s, her body still hummed with adrenaline. Even though she finished performing a few songs ago, bolts of energy continued to course through her veins. Most gigs were great, but it was nights like this that solidified Willam’s belief that she was made to be a drag queen.

She wished she could say the same for the entertainer currently crashing and burning on stage. Willam couldn’t help but grimace as she watched the queen struggle to keep in time with the music. Her dance moves were lackluster and her lips barely formed around the lyrics before the song was dashing away from her. If it were a queen deserving of such a blunder, Willam would have nodded along and enjoyed the spectacle. If it were a local queen struggling, Willam would have waltzed on stage to join her, never shying away from stealing the limelight.

However, fumbling around on stage was not an amateur, but America’s Next Drag Superstar. The spotlight was currently on Sharon Needles, who was making her reigning title look more questionable than ever.

Sharon was one of the few queens Willam tolerated during their time together on the show. They stayed out of each other’s way and accidentally created a tag team like dynamic when fighting with Phi Phi, one always in the ring with her while the other enjoyed some much needed peace away from O’Hara. Now that the race had ended and the pressure was off, Willam had found herself respecting Sharon more than she anticipated.

She ended up performing with Needles quite frequently since her recent win, the series first disqualified contestant booking the same amount of gigs, if not more, as the season’s underdog turned top dog. While it was Willam who had disappointed RuPaul, she could safely say that tonight she was not the one tarnishing the Drag Race name.

Between her uninterested dancing and dispassionate lip-syncing, Sharon barely interacted with the audience. When she did acknowledge their eagerly outstretched hands to slide the green bills from their grasp, they saw the light in her eyes they had fallen in love with had burnt out. Willam found herself mentally willing the crew to up the ante on the smoke machine, hoping the hazy cloud that hung in the air could intensify and obscure Sharon’s dismal routine.

Willam cringed, recoiling slightly as she caught herself feeling bad for Needles. An unfamiliar feeling of sympathy stirred awake in her mind, its eyes flicking open as it stretched its legs. She wasn’t a cold-hearted bitch who never felt concern for others, but Sharon Needles – who recently acquired $100,000 and a solid career – was not someone Willam expected to feel sorry for anytime soon.

As Sharon continued to stumble, both figuratively and literally, through her performance, Willam couldn’t ignore the niggling feeling in her stomach that the root of Sharon’s dire behaviour wasn’t just alcohol infused. Willam didn’t realise she had been holding her breath until she gratefully exhaled at the sight of Sharon’s set finishing. As the crowd applauded her, Sharon couldn’t even pretend to smile.

“I’m Sharon Needles, you’ve been amazing, thank you Dallas,” Sharon stated in a bored voice, reciting cliché phrases to the now slightly offended Denver crowd, who brushed it off as a usual Sharonism.

She dropped the microphone into the next performer’s hands and made a beeline for the side stage wings, not bothering to give the adoring audience one last wave or thank you. As she was enveloped into the darkness behind the black curtains, Willam’s hand instinctively shot out in an attempt to grab Sharon and give her the universal ‘you okay?’ look.

Instead, Sharon pushed passed her, slapping away Willam’s rare sign of compassion. Willam rolled her eyes, her sliver of kindness evaporating immediately. Sharon was just a diva, the fame already surging to her head as she acted as if she was too good for the people who had built her up.  

*

After taking her final bow, Willam bounced off the stage of the club and made her way to her dressing room, both exhausted and exhilarated. Tonight had been good. She had sold out of all of her merchandise, the gig had actually finished on time, and she knew she would be able to catch up with Detox and Rhea if she packed her stuff fast enough.

That was until she threw open her dressing room door and entered to find a distraught Sharon Needles weeping at her vanity. Sharon’s head was in her hands, her ghoulish grey curls falling around her and blocking her face from view.

“What the fuck is going on in here?” Willam announced, bewildered at the unexpected sight. She was surprised at what she saw but her words were underpinned with her usual sense of amusement.

Sharon gasped and jerked her head up in surprise at the intrusion, clearly taken aback that someone had caught her in her current state of disarray. Her shock soon morphed into annoyance when she saw Willam standing in the doorway, whose eyes were alight with glee at Sharon’s moment of weakness.

“Fuck off,” Sharon shot back quietly, her voice embarrassingly wobbly, “leave me alone.”

Willam couldn’t help but scoff, “you’re in my dressing room, goddamnit.”

Sharon’s face dropped as she looked around at her surroundings. Her eyes widened as she spotted the array of Obsessive Compulsive Cosmetics products spread out on the vanity that she definitely didn’t own, and the costumes hanging up that were too colourful to belong in her closet.

Sharon’s face crumbled as she realised that, in her tearful post show state, she had found solace in the wrong room. Willam could only watch as the shoulders of the other queen shook, her breath hitching as fresh tears welled up in her eyes. Willam found herself wondering how her beat still looked perfect. She wasn’t sure what changes Sharon had made, but she had become ever so slightly fishier after winning. Willam was always quick to defend Sharon when Phi Phi and Kenya would snicker like schoolgirls in the werk room at her skills, saying she could paint pretty when she wanted to – and tonight she definitely did.

However, to her growing frustration, Sharon made no effort to leave. Willam wasn’t here for this, she wasn’t running a therapy session. She had places to go, people to meet up with. Comforting a weepy Sharon Needles was not a thought she cared to entertain.

But as Sharon carefully dabbed at her eyes with the tissue that had been scrunched in her hand this whole time, something timidly pulled at Willam’s dusty heartstrings. With pursed lips, Willam begrudgingly shut the dressing room door. She used her high heel cad foot to nosily drag a stool closer to Sharon and sat down opposite her.

“Don’t,” Sharon warned, not meeting her eyes. “I don’t want to talk.”

“Then why are you still here?” Willam asked, slightly aggressively. She had almost taken Sharon’s bait and kicked her out of the dressing room then and there.

Sharon didn’t answer, instead intently focusing on the tissue she fidgeted with in her hands as a sad hiccup escaped her lips.

“Okay, you need to calm down,” Willam started, clearly not well versed with fragile people, “like, right now.”

Sharon’s bottom lip quivered at her words, and Willam could tell she was trying to hold back another fresh wave of tears.

“I know tonight wasn’t your best performance, but they loved you anyway, so who the fuck cares, move on, you know?”

Sharon frowned, already lost at Willam’s attempt to comfort her.

“Tonight?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Willam clarified, now also confused. “You were pretty atrocious out there, but we all have those nights-“

“I’m not sad about that,” Sharon interrupted.

“Oh,” Willam said, as if the problem had been solved, but it hadn’t. “Then, why are crying?”

Sharon looked to the ceiling, as if looking for an answer, before exhaling loudly.

“I’m fine,” she said, delivering an irritatingly anti-climatic response.

“Argh, no you’re not!” Willam said, exasperated.

This was taking longer than she expected. Willam wasn’t prepared to sit down and methodically crack Sharon open like a nut and revel in her misery with her. She just wanted her stable and out the door, so that they could both carry on with their lives.

That’s what she told herself. However, actions speak louder than words, and it was Willam who hadn’t kicked Sharon out yet, who had shut the door and sat down with her. They sat in silence for a few moments, Sharon still fidgeting with her mascara stained tissue and Willam massaged her neck, trying to understand why she simultaneously wanted to hug Sharon and also smack the damn tissue out of her hand.

“For Christ’s sake,” Willam said, finally breaking the silence and reaching for the tissue box, “at least get another one.”

Sharon ripped a new tissue from the box.

“I’m just so stressed, and tired,” she said abruptly, “I’m so fucking tired.”

Willam opened her mouth to respond, to say that anyone would feel tired on their schedule, but Sharon interrupted her, unable to control the words pouring out of her.

“I just want everything to slow down, I never know where I am anymore, but everyone’s like ‘oh, Sharon, you have everything, why are you complaining? What do you mean you don’t enjoy going from one club to the other for months on end?’”

The words came rushing out of her, a clear indication they had been swirling in her mind for months, bubbling under the surface until she couldn’t suppress them anymore. Willam sat in silence, offering Sharon the one thing she had been deprived of since winning – someone who would listen and not judge.

“I’m just so frustrated,” Sharon said in a quiet, ragged voice, “because I took someone’s dream and I’m living it and I’m not even enjoying it, but I can’t say that. She’s the only one who’s allowed to be upset.”

Willam nodded, suddenly remembering how Sharon got on the race at the expense of her partner who was also a drag queen, Alabama or something.

Sharon’s breathing started to slow to a normal rate, and Willam could practically see the weight roll off her shoulders as the words left her lips, finally out there in the world and not riddled with guilt inside her mind.

“You can’t be mad for being a winner, baby,” Willam said, not letting the opportunity for a RuPaul impression slide.

A small smile pulled at Sharon’s lips, and Willam’s heart rose as she thought they were making progress. That was until Sharon’s face dropped again, her breath shaking as another thought flowed out of her.

“But maybe I’m not meant to be a winner, maybe I don’t deserve any of this… and that’s why I can’t handle it.”

Willam breathed in sharply, entirely not here for this pity party. She wasn’t entirely sure of her feelings for Sharon, of why this situation was happening. But she was sure about one thing – Sharon Needles killed season four and every season before it.

“No, cut that shit out!” Willam started, surprising both of them with her outburst. “It’s a game, you score, you put the numbers on the board and then you win. That’s what you did! You won four challenges, the most in history! You deserve to be a winner and you deserve to be happy. So stop wallowing in your own self pity and get a fucking grip.”

Willam finally breathed in, a little taken aback at the lecture she had just sprung on Sharon. She wasn’t usually the one to hand out pep talks. Alternatively, beating someone down was typically her area of expertise, so much so she was even thinking of starting a web series doing it.

But here she was, aggressively telling Sharon she deserved everything she had so rightly achieved.

Sharon just stared at her, stunned by her uplifting tirade. She blinked, her wet lashes fluttering against her damp cheeks. This was not the obnoxious Willam she had come to love and hate during the race.

“But, but-” she started again, attempting to argue with Willam.

But Willam couldn’t bother with Sharon’s self-loathing anymore. This night was weird enough and had not gone how she expected it to at all. So, in usual Willam fashion, she threw caution to the wind and ran with her gut instinct, ignoring the damage she might cause in the process.

She leant across and closed the spaced between them, capturing Sharon’s lips in a kiss and silencing the other queen.

It was tentative at first, Sharon shocked at Willam’s move and Willam’s mind simultaneously a complete cluster fuck of thoughts yet totally blank.

Sharon closed her eyes, the warmth of Willam’s lips on hers immediately calming her.

Reality struck Willam and she hastily pulled away, realising too late that she had most likely overstepped a boundary or four.

Their heads were still close together. Willam felt Sharon’s breath dance across her skin. Sharon’s eyes darted from Willam’s eyes to her parted lips and back again.

Willam’s mind was racing. What was she doing? Willam was in an open relationship, but Sharon? Sharon didn’t want her, she had Alabama. Sharon didn’t say she could kiss her. And when had Willam decided she wanted to kiss Sharon?

Willam’s thoughts were cut off as Sharon leant forward, their lips meeting once again and silencing Willam’s inner turmoil.

All previous notions of hesitation vanished as their lips moved together. Willam parted her mouth to deepen the kiss, her tongue brushing against the other queen’s as Sharon matched her movements.

Sharon’s hands immediately reached for Willam’s neck and shoulder, wanting to pull her closer. Willam shifted forward on her stool, her hands instantly reaching for Sharon’s hips and sliding her towards her.

Sharon took it further, pulling away from their kiss ever so slightly to move and sit on Willam’s lap, her legs straddling the other queen.

Willam hitched Sharon’s tight mini dress up the short distance it needed so it slid up over her curves before her hands moved to cup her ass and hold her closer.

Sharon grinded down into Willam crotch, her hips grating against the other blonde as desire pumped through her.

Willam couldn’t help the moan that escaped her lips as Sharon rolled her hips, her breath hitching as their kiss became more passionate.  

Sharon tilted her head back and Willam planted a trail of kisses down her neck before sucking at a particular spot, marking Sharon’s fair skin.

“Yes, yes,” Sharon moaned softly, her eyes fluttering shut as she continued to roll her hips against Willam’s.

Sharon let the moment overpower her, the detrimental consequences of her actions the last thing on her mind. She gasped in pleasure as Willam squeezed her ass, the firmness of her touch contrasting against the softness of her lips. Sharon continued to grind her hips, her fingers tangling in Willam’s soft, silky wig.

Willam’s hands slid down and grabbed the other blonde’s thighs. She abruptly stood up and hoisted Sharon’s slender body up onto the vanity behind them. She caused a ruckus as she sat Sharon down, products crashing and knocking off the vanity as they were pushed aside. Neither of them noticed as they continued to grab at one and other.

Sharon spread her legs and wrapped them around Willam’s waist, her chest heaving as she arched her back against the cool surface of the mirror. As Willam captured Sharon’s bottom lip with her teeth, the sharpness dragging slightly on Sharon’s pouty lips, she wondered why she bothered fucking a Drag Race producer when this was in the hotel room next to her.

She snaked a hand down between their bodies and rubbed Sharon’s pulsing groin, earning a desperate moan from the other queen.

“I need you,” Sharon breathed softly into Willam’s ear.

Sharon’s dress was bunched around her waist from when Willam pulled it up earlier, so Willam reached for her black underwear and pulled it down. Sharon’s minimal padding fell to the ground as she did so, and since she was loosely tucked and didn’t wear tights, her erection sprung free as well.

Sharon palmed herself, biting her lip while she slowly and seductively batted her lashes at Willam.

Willam admired her for a moment. She studied how gorgeous Sharon’s dark lips looked against her unnaturally blonde hair, how the bright lights of the vanity that surrounded her somehow softened her features.

Without tearing her eyes from Sharon’s, Willam sat on the seat of the vanity before joining Sharon and wrapping a hand around her throbbing cock.

She teased her, pumping her slowly as her parted lips inched closer and closer to Sharon, who couldn’t help but gently thrust herself towards Willam, desperate for her touch.

Willam started slow, her tongue gradually swiping at Sharon’s slit as the other queen bucked her hips.

“Ah,” Sharon moaned, a strangled cry escaping her as Willam took her time.

Willam wrapped her plump lips around Sharon’s tip, gently sucking at her head. Sharon tangled her fingers in Willam’s hair, wanting to pull her closer as her wet tongue and warm mouth sent pleasure coursing through her body.

Willam finally sank down completely, enveloping Sharon in a hot mix of tongue, cheek hallowing and teeth grazing. Sharon felt herself hit the back of Willam’s throat as Willam switched between vigorously and languidly bobbing herself on Sharon’s cock.

Willam wrapped a hand around Sharon’s base, squeezing her slightly as she pumped her cock between her lips, looking up at Sharon through her thick lashes.

“Ah, fuck, fuck,” Sharon babbled as Willam moaned around her, vibrations echoing through her sensitive body.

Sharon felt her eyes grow watery again, but this time out of sheer pleasure. She couldn’t remember the last time she had let herself unravel completely with someone like this, with no trace of guilt or resentment in the mix. She had knocked back so many advancements while on tour, staying loyal to somebody she constantly felt apologetic too. Somebody whom she always pleasured as a way of saying sorry for stealing their one dream. Having the sole purpose of the moment be on making her feel good was overwhelming.

Willam abruptly pulled off completely, Sharon protesting at the loss.

“Say you deserve it,” Willam gasped, her voice croaky but firm.

“What?” Sharon managed to say, her mind clouded with lust.

“Say you deserve to be a winner,” Willam said again, “or else I stop.”

Sharon threw her head back against the mirror and scoffed. Willam’s idea was both stupid and genius. She clenched her jaw, the words unable to come out. But her hips involuntarily thrusted towards Willam, her cock painfully hard and slick with the other queen’s spit.

“I deserve to be a winner,” Sharon said slowly, her voice trembling slightly as her body buzzed with desire, desperate for Willam’s mouth to again be wrapped around her.

“Good, keep saying it,” Willam said satisfied, returning to her place between Sharon’s thighs.

Sharon couldn’t help the smile on her lips as Willam bobbed up and down, pulling off and edging Sharon when she didn’t comply.

“I deserve to be a winner, I deserve to be- ah fuck yes, a winner, I deserve, ah Willam yes,” Sharon chanted. Her back arched against the mirror and her thighs shook as her orgasm gained momentum, coiling itself tightly in her stomach.

Willam moaned around her before grabbing her balls and squeezing them slightly, massaging them as her mouth worked Sharon’s throbbing cock.

“I… deserve…I-” Sharon was cut off as she was finally pushed to the edge, her orgasm overwhelming her.

Her mouth was a silent scream as stripes of hot cum shot from her pulsing cock and down Willam’s throat. With closed eyes and shaking legs, she held onto Willam had she rode at her orgasm.  

She gasped for breath as she gradually came down from her high, Willam still gently sucking on her now over sensitive cock. She dragged her teeth slightly as she pulled off, Sharon’s legs shuddering in the process. Willam continued to pump Sharon as she admired her flushed cheeks and lust blown pupils.  

They sat in silence for a moment, just like they did before, except now they were in a very different situation. Willam’s mind was just starting to clear when Sharon shifted forward and enveloped her in a hug, her arms wrapping around her and holding her close. Willam returned the hug, her hands rubbing Sharon’s back as they nothing, but also so much.

Sharon didn’t need to say it, but she said it anyway.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice muffled as she spoke into Willam’s hair.

“It’s okay,” Willam said genuinely, before turning back into the Willam Sharon knew. “Now help me clean this shit up.”

[allonsysilvertongue]

Chasing Hope

Summary: “If I ask you to name all the things you love, how long will it take for you to name yourself?” A story on finding hope, forgiveness and love in a world they never imagined they would survive. Post-MJ. Previously 

3. Hospital Visit

"It’s still you.

It’s still you." — Margaret Atwood, Shapechangers In Winter 

With Johanna and Annie leaving for District Four, the number of regular visitors had reduced considerably. For the past two weeks, together with Effie, they had made it a point to provide company for Peeta in the hospital.

Annie had wistfully coined them the Quartet.

“It was us four then, too.”

There was no need for her to explicitly explain what “then” meant. Having gone through it together, they knew it all too well. They had held each other and tried to the best of their abilities to give strength to one another. Effie had whispered words of encouragement to Johanna and Peeta after each beating, pleading with them to hold on and that someone was bound to rescue them.  

“I miss them already,” Effie remarked.

“As do I,” Peeta said. “Even Johanna’s snarky remarks about the nurses here.”

Effie checked the time.

It would be fifteen minutes before Peeta’s scheduled therapy session which would last for half an hour, a time she would often use to get a quick lunch and thereafter spend it reading numerous pregnancy books that she could find to keep herself well-informed for Annie’s sake.

She was always mindful to be back in Peeta’s room when he returned from his session. The presence of a familiar face helped. He was often quiet after his sessions and Effie disliked the idea of him being alone.

“Any news from Twelve?”

“Well, last I heard, Haymitch wrote a letter to the Capitol. For President Paylor,” she informed him. “I only knew when I was summoned to the Presidential Mansion and heard the talks.”

Alarmed by what she was telling him, Peeta asked, “What was in the letter? And why were you summoned?”

“Nothing too serious,” she assured. “Plutarch required my professional fashion advice, if you would believe it, for the inauguration, the date of which is still classified. As for Haymitch’s letter, I am in the dark as to what the contents are but Plutarch hinted that it was important for the future of Panem. Perhaps, Haymitch has taken up a cause to occupy his time,” she laughed lightly, eyes twinkling in amusement. “Curious as I am, we’ll just have to wait.”

“How do you think they are doing?”  

That was a question he asked often enough.

Dr. Aurelieus had advised that it would likely be better for the time being for Katniss and Peeta to be on their own separately. Peeta needed to gain control of his memories without Katniss’ presence interfering and leaving him confused and Katniss… She needed to grief the loss of her sister without constantly worrying about Peeta.

“They are rather stubborn people, are they not? They are alright, darling, they will be,” she reached across to squeeze his hand.

Effie missed them both. It was not the same without them. The team did not feel complete.

Despite a part of her that still blamed Haymitch for her capture, Effie missed him dearly. He had never said anything about not calling him but she needed to do her own healing. Like Peeta, she needed time on her own to be able to bury the resentment and disappointment at being left behind if she ever wished to find it within her to forgive Haymitch and move past the trauma. She knew that he would never have let any harm befall her but the manner in which he had handled it… He could have at the very least told her, she thought. She would have kept his secret. She would have kept it all – the rebellion, district thirteen, breaking out of the arena – everything.

His repeated ‘I wanted to make sure you were safe and the lesser you knew the better’ when he had tried to explain his decision to her did nothing to quell the anger, only fuel it, especially so since she was on morphling and in pain.

Still, right now, she made a promise that once the communication infrastructure are  up and stable in District Twelve and the rest of Panem, she would give Haymitch and Katniss a call.

“It’s time,” Peeta said, glancing at the clock. “You will be here?”

“Yes, as always,” Effie assured him with a smile.

Leaning back in her chair, Effie lost herself in the book. At the stage of pregnancy Annie was at now, Effie learnt that the baby’s fingers and toes should be well defined and the baby could even suck on its thumb, which she found to be rather fascinating. Annie might even begin to feel the baby move and Effie mourn the fact that she would not be there to experience and feel it, the way Johanna could.

It was the opening and closing of the door that brought her back and just as she expected, Peeta returned looking sullen. It did not befit the boy she knew but this was a cycle she had grown accustomed to by now.

Methodically, he pulled out a blank canvas and set it against the stand. He paused briefly, studying the colour palette before choosing the ones he wanted.

“What if I can never be me?” he asked out of the blue.

Effie knew that fear well. It was the fear of losing oneself, and she even thought she had lost the core of her individuality in that prison cell.

“You are still you. This person,” she touched his cheek gently which belied the firm, insistent tone of her voice, “is still very much you.

“Not my memories, not my mind,” he countered and rubbed his forehead in frustration. “They’ll never – “

“Your heart is still yours. Your memories….They will get better. That is why you are here, getting help.”

Peeta said nothing to that. His attention had shifted to mixing his paints and getting the shade exactly how he wanted them. Effie was about to return to her reading when he spoke up.

“The night of the 74th Games,” he breathed slowly and looked up, “before we were sent to the arena, I told Katniss that I don’t want them to change who I am. That if I die… I’d still want to be me.”

Effie never knew this. She assumed that after she had sent the children to bed that night, they had remained in their bedrooms. She was not aware of them having a conversation.

“They tried to do just that. It’s ironic how things turned out.”

“It is true that you are not the Peeta Mellark I first met in District Twelve. You have faced numerous trials that the boy I met is gone and the person here, in his place is someone stronger, kinder and wiser, a survivor. They may have taken away that childhood innocence, darling, but you are still good, compassionate and human. I see that from you again and again, and they did not take that away from you. They did not change that about you. They tried to tarnish your memories, that’s all but you are doing so well right now.”

“I … don’t know.”

“Peeta, you were not fueled by revenge before and you are not fueled by that now. You are the same person here,” she touched his chest for emphasis.

Instead of answering, he stared at his hands instead and she knew what he was thinking. Those were the same hands that had tried to strangle the life out of Katniss before.

“Remember what you did on that balcony,” she reminded him softly, clasping his hands in hers. “You could not let her die in the Games and you could not let her die then. That is who you are. You always try to keep her safe.”

He took a shuddering breath and then looked up, a small smile gracing his face.

“Shall I paint you today?”

Let me know what you think of this :)