#but still. maybe cause she was so outstandingly terrible
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sar3nka · 5 months ago
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If my ex is still looking at my blog then um I'm almost embarrassed that I don't think or post abt him nearly as much as I do about crazy woman I only spent like 3 nights with. Like sorry but those 5 years weren't that impactful really but I was also trying not to die and I don't remember much
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timeforelfnonsense · 4 years ago
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Bound
Dafni x Astartion || Rating: E (very spicy: See Ao3 tags for a run down ) || Ao3 || Sunshine & Starlight: My on going bg3 series  
Notes: Sub & dom Astarion all in one fic? Maybe so. Shadowheart's off-handed line about the PC tying her up if she started to turn inspired this filth (I'm sure she'd be loathed to know that). I'm also a fan of the sexy misuse of spells and hadn't written femme dom in a while. It was a perfect storm. Evlish Translations: Qu tel sy- Bindings of the wilds
Astarion watched Dafni’s dainty fingers casually trace an arcane pattern in the empty space before her. 
“Qu tel sy” Her voice wavered a bit in its attempt at sounding commanding. 
Cute.
Tendrils of jasmine vine sprung from the earth below him winding up his biceps binding him at the wrist. He’d heard her make a sharp quip about tying Shadowheart up that afternoon. The comment had worked his way into his mind. He was normally much more interested in taking the lead but the idea of playful, defiant Dafni taking control was rather enticing. A fantasy worth indulging in at least once. 
“Comfy?” She asked, her head tilting to one side. 
“Very.” 
With a nod, she began to leisurely undress herself. His hungry gaze followed her dainty fingers as they came to the tan leather straps that kept her breastplate fastened. She took her time with each buckle admiring the tiny floral etchings as if they were the most fascinating thing in the world. Slowly she shrugged herself free. Carefully laying it down beside her long sword and bow. Next, she set herself to the thin metal plates that protected her knees, removing them and adding them to the neat pile. 
“You are taking forever, Daffodil.” He complained.
“I could go slower?” She retorted leaning over as she slid her hands down her thigh to her cave. 
“No. No, take your time I’ll just be making a mental note of what a terrible pricktease you are being.”
Dafni rolled her eyes, tugging off her boots. Her fingers toyed with the laces of her breaches before moving to the pearl buttons at the wrist of her tapered bell sleeve. 
“I’ve been thinking about something you said the other day.” She mused, halting her undressing once more, “Can you really not see your own reflection?” Astarion let out a frustrated breath. He should have expected her to drag it out. The little puck! Really he’d walked right into this. He tried to pull his hands free of their bindings so he could have her and be done with this gods’ damned teasing but she only waved her hand casually, causing the vines to pull him firmly to the ground. “My, my someone is impatient! I believe I asked a question?” 
“I really can’t.” 
“So, you don’t know what you look like?” She inquired. 
“I’m sure right now I look rather annoyed.” He quipped back.
“I’m being serious.” 
Oh no. 
Not the pout! 
Her lower lip jut out ever so slightly. Her eyebrows began to stitch and his heart threatened to melt into a puddle. He was certain she knew he’d cave if she gave him that look. He had been able to resist when they’d first met but lately that quivering lip was a sure-fire path to getting her way.
“Ugh- Alright! I'll indulge you! Little brat...” He said with a stroppy huff, “I have a general idea of how I looked before. Lacking any evidence to the contrary, I just assume I look amazing.” 
“Dear me!” She tuted with a chime of silver-toned laughter, “So cocksure. You satisfied my curiosity-” A coy smile flashed across her face, “For now anyway. I think that deserves a reward.”
She brought her hands behind her neck unbuttoning collar, tugging her blouse over the top of her head. Astarion gave a weak attempt at silencing a low snicker as the fabric got caught on the long line of her ears in her haste. An adorable pink bloomed across the apples of her rounded cheeks. Her fingers returned to the satin ribbon at the front of her pants once more, shimmying her wide, seductive hips as she slipped them off. 
His breath caught in his chest as he drank her in. She was eternal in the warm candlelight. A goddess all his own. Plump curves. Full breasts. Her loose curls cascading down her back like a river of rose petals. Freckles like flecks of gold covering her soft, kissable skin. She looked like a dream, dressed in nothing but her smalls and the crescent pendant that hung from her neck. The cool evening air danced across her bare sink prompting a tiny shiver from Dafni. Her nipples hardened as goosebumps broke out across her exposed skin. 
“You are outstandingly beautiful, to confirm your suspicions.” She hummed straddling his hips. He could feel her warm core against his length through the thin fabric of her panties. He pressed himself against her, rocking slowly against her cotton clad folds. She gave a delighted squeak, wiggling against the solid pressure of his erection. “ I wish I could draw so you could see for yourself. Unfortunately, I’m hopeless with bush and canvas. I am quite good with gab, however. I could paint you a picture with words instead? Would you like that?”  
He’d be lying if he claimed to have never been curious about his own appearance. He had a few memories of his mortal countenance. But like the majority of his past time and torment had left them hazy and abstract. He’d definitely had a little more color in life. He could recall being fair but not quite so cadaverously pale. His eyes would have been the most severe change, save the fangs. He’d seen the same haunting scarlet in the irises of every vampiric creature he’d met. He flitted through his thoughts trying to recall their previous color. Knowing Dafni she’d eventually ask him, if not now later on one of her whimsical larks. He was somewhat sure they had been green? Her offer seemed more and more appealing as his mind shifted through faint, crumbing memories. It would be fascinating to hear what parts of him she’d taken particular notice of. Moreover, Dafni had the remarkable ability to see the absolute best in everything. His appearance would likely be much the same and what man wouldn’t want the object of his desire to spoil him with compliments? 
“Go on.” He affirmed with another eager roll of his hips against the growing wetness between her legs.
“Very well. You have a strong, angular jaw and perfect cheekbones. You have a little birthmark riiiiiight- Here!” Dafni explained, noting the spot on his cheek with a peck, “You have the most heartbreakingly handsome grin I’ve ever seen. Your nose is very straight. I can tell you weren’t in many bar fights!” She giggled, tapping the tip of his nose with her index finger. Astarion scrunched his nose in response prompting another musical laugh from Dafni. Followed by a long, slow kiss to his lips. He slid the edge of his tongue along the seam of her lips. A dissatisfied curse escaped him as she pulled back. Dafni only continued to beam with bemusement at his wanting.  She brought a hand to a stray lock of hair that had fallen into his face. She wound the curl around her fingertip before sliding her fingers through his hair. Tugging softly at the root as she pushed it back. “Your hair is the color of moonlight. Your eyes are my favorite, though. So striking… The color of fine claret. Expressive too! If I want to know your mood I can always see it in your eyes. Or by the tips of your ears. They go pink when you are flustered. It’s faint but I’ve spent enough time admiring you to notice.” She nibbled his ear to emphasize her point, drawing a quiet whimper from Astarion. She kissed her way back down his body pausing on the hollow of his neck and collar bones. “You’ve always reminded me of the statues of the first elves we had in Peleira. Awe-inspiring figures cut from marble and alabaster. Trim and regal just like you.” She slid off his hips, kidding each rib on the right side of his body before settling between his thighs. Her soft hand wrapping around his member. A needy growl fell from his lips as she began her lazy pumping. She let out a playful chime of laughter before running her tongue along the underside of his shaft. “And of course your cock is absolutely glorious! So long with a slight curve that hits all my secret places. While I’m not the inexperienced maiden you hilariously mistook me for but, you do make me feel as if I were. You make sex feel new and exciting, Astarion. You make my life exciting all around. Normally my fancies come and go with haste, but I can’t imagine myself ever growing bored with you. I’ve never had a lover hold my attention as you do.”
Her adoring plaudits were overwhelming. Each comment was painfully sincere. Her free hand drifted between her own legs. The licentious mewls she made as her fingers toyed with herself made him even harder. His mind was swimming with desire. He wanted nothing more than to plunge into her snug, wet sheath. She must have seen the hunger in his expression. His body went taut as he felt her soft lips around him. Gods he wanted to touch her! To sink his fingers into her soft curls while she worshiped his cock. His hips bucked against her mouth as instinct took over. The sweet vibration of her giggle sending a shiver down his spine. He almost didn’t notice the feeling of more plant life ensnaring him, ankle to the shin. He could feel himself swiftly approaching the brink as she teases his tip.
“Daffodil…” His voice came out in a strained whisper, “You’ll need to stop soon. I’d still like to have you in other ways.” With a hum of understanding, she removed him from her mouth with a soft pop. Her thumbs hooked the edges of her underwear removing it in one quick movement. His wrist strained against his bindings as he attempted to reach for her hips. “Wait a moment. I want to taste you first.”
“You want me to unbind you?” She asked.
“I didn’t say that.” He chuckled a playful half-smile on his lips.
“Oh.”
Dafni’s belly flipped when she heard his request. The embers of confidence smothered by her own insecurities. She’d had her fair share of lovers between her thighs but she’d never like...That. Astarion was so lithe. She didn’t want to smother him! 
“You can say no, darling.” He reassured, “However if you are worried about hurting me, don’t be.”
Nibbling her lower lip as a hot flush broke out across her naked body. “How did you know?” 
“You have the same needlessly embarrassed look on your face as you did when I picked you up in the forest.” He sighed, continuing, “It's fairly common anxiety as well. I promise I’ll be perfectly fine. Besides if you accidentally suffocate me you’ll have to go fetch an emergency revivify scroll from Shadowheart and the thought of her reaction when you told her how I died is positively delightful!” 
Dafni tried to hold in her laughter but it came out in a snort, “You are awful! What if she wanted to see your body?”
“Gods, I hope she would! Can you imagine her shock? Finding me all tressed up in jasmine after meeting my untimely end betwixt your gorgeous thighs!” He stated with a mirthful grin, “This all hypothetical of course. I fully expect you’ll be the only one to experience a little death from sitting on my face.”
Dafni felt her nerves steadying with his gentle taunting. She couldn’t decide if she was touched or mortified that he’d taken note of her insecurities. She’d never voiced them but he had been perspective enough to notice the little changes in her demeanor. He had a knack for catching on to the little things other people tried to hide. Part of the ‘wiles’ that had kept him alive for the past few centuries. She supposed his perceptiveness was the flip side of his secretary. Both had been informed by a difficult life.
She brushed her lips against his. Their foreheads pressed against one another. “Alright.”
Dafni steeled herself as she settled her thighs on either side of him. Ever so slowly she lowered herself towards his smirking mouth. 
Oh wow.
All the worry slipped away with the first pass of his cool tongue along her slit. A lewd gasp broke free from her as he sealed his lips over her clit. Sucking and teasing her to delirium. Her hips grew a will of their own rocking forward, chasing the electrifying sensation. Her squirming only seemed to embolden him. His attention shifted to the mouth of her arousal. His tongue eagerly exploring her dripping center. Her confidence returning with each dizzying lick. She thought she’d feel ridiculous perched on top of him. The sight of Astarion happily ravaging her with his mouth left her feeling empowered and needy.
“Gods that’s good!” She whimpered rutting against him, “I-Wow… I kind of want to keep you here a forever.” She tugged at the roots of his soft curls pulling him deeper into her arousal. Promoting a delighted purr from Astarion as he continued to lap away at her quim. “Keep going! I’m so close...Ah! Astarion! Please! More!” A few more skillful sweeps of his tongue and the hot coil of building pleasure snapped loose. She hadn’t meant for the lamentation that followed to come out at such a high volume. She normally tried to be courteous of their friends. It was close quarters and they would likely not enjoy her keening half as much as Astarion did. She bit down her lip quieting another cry as the tempest of exaltation mixed with the sharp sensation of his teeth on her inner thigh. After a few swallows, he brushed his lips over the wound in a chaste kiss. She climbed down from her seat, flopping down on his cool chest. Her breath coming out in ragged heaves. “That was life-changing.”
She glanced up finding him staring with even more hunger than usual. His chin shimmering with slick. Lips stained red by her blood and his eyes alight with impatient longing.
“Years of practice.” He stated with a wicked grin, “Now if you’d be kind enough to free me, Daffodil? If I don’t have my way with you this instant, I might be driven mad.” 
She nodded climbing off his chest to receive one of his daggers from his things. She carefully cut away the blossoms and vines that held him prone. As soon as the blade cleared the twist of greenery, he pounced, laying her out on her stomach.  Dafni let out a peal of amusement, propping herself up slightly on her elbows. Astarion ran his finger along her slit, causing her to shiver. A dark, desirous sound rumbled in his chest as he sunk two fingers into her, “Still a little sensitive, are we? There is still nectar dripping from your flower down the back of your legs. I knew you’d enjoy your little ride. I certainly did. You’re so beautiful when you come undone. Squirming and squealing. Though, I wonder what the others will say now that they’ve heard you screaming my name like a trollop?” He let out a moan as Dafni clenched around his pumping fingers, “Should we see if I can get you to do it again?” 
Dafni cried out as he impaled her with one urgent push. His hips met her’s with a smack before he withdrew almost completely. She whined at the emptiness, relief washing over her as he resheathed himself with another unyielding shove. It seemed being unable to touch her had inspired a carnal frustration he was desperate to satisfy. He gathered her loose hair up in one hand, yanking her back as he continued to pound into her. He hissed as Dafni brought her thighs closer together, savoring the hardness of his length inside her. 
“Tell me again, tart.” He demanded wrenching her back to look at him, “Tell me how I make you feel like a vestal maid with my ‘glorious cock’.” 
“For you, I am reduced to a lusty, untouched damsel.” She confirmed pushing her backside against him.
“Indeed you are.” He released his grip on her curls, bringing his hands to rest on the swell of her hip tugging her even closer.
He growled his approval before sinking his teeth into the warm hollow of her throat. With each sip, she felt his heart fall into step with her own. It was a strange sort of intimacy that felt a bit metaphorical. Cold, wicked, Astarion’s undead heart lurching to life. Beating in perfect time with her own as she coursed through him. Dafni knew it was a silly, romantic notion but that could hardly be helped. Especially when he was ravaging her with such vigor. Her second climax flourished as he pressed himself against her just so. She convulses under him, tears streaming down her cheeks. Astarion tore himself away from her neck, incarnadine eyes burning ravenous with a mix of thirst and fearsome wanton need. 
He shouldn’t have bitten her again. It was a rash, risky choice, especially when he was already frenzied with lust. That first taste from her thigh had been the most exquisite yet. The sweetness of her blood mingling with the earthy tang of her slick had been transcendent. The soft, sunny, joy he’d experienced when feeding on her in the past had been replaced with a blinding exaltation that had nearly finished him off untouched. If the first bite had been transcendent the second had felt like finding himself in Arvandor itself. It took no small amount of will power to chase off his instinct to drink her dry.
As he beheld her writhing, buxom form an admission rushed out of him, “I never want anyone else to touch you again.”
Never?
Oh, gods, that was a fool thing to say! 
“I’m spoiled for all others.” She assured, “No one else could please me as you do.”
Her words ignited something base in him, pushing him to the edge. With a final crude thrust, he found his rapture, flooding her snug, soaking, heat with his release. All the while his thoughts rang loud with one word.
Mine.
 He lingered behind her for a while, his chest heaving and heart racing. He knew he must be a flustered mess and he didn’t really want her to see him like that. He’d already shown her too much. He squeezed his eyes shut. Composing himself before laying out beside Dafni.
 When his eyes fluttered back open he took stock of the scene before him. Dafni’s expression was somewhere between dazed and ecstatic. The wound on her neck was still dripping red. The one on her thigh had closed, turning a deep purple. His seed seeped from her entrance. His chest went tight, his cheeks a deep red. She was well and truly debauched.  
“Daffodil?” He said softly as he placed a tentative hand on her shoulder, “Are you ok, dear?” 
She blinked a few times before nodding, “I’m ok! Just a little woozy and overwhelmed, maybe? Kind of floaty.”
“Completely fair. That was...A lot. I might have gotten a bit carried away. Apologies.” He brushed the loose hair from her shoulder to get a better look at the puncture on her neck, “If you feel faint, you should eat something. Tell me what you’d like and I’ll fetch it from the camp’s stores?”
“Some water would be nice and maybe an orange? I think we have some left from the druids.” Dafni turned to her side, cozying up beside him. She looked up at him through curling pink lashes. Her mossy brown eyes expressing an uncharacteristic shyness. “After I have my snack, could maybe I stay with you again tonight? You can say no! I won’t be offended. I understand that you like your space and I don't want to be clingy! I-I’m just feeling a little vulnerable after all that and I don’t think I could handle a walk of shame right now…” 
It always stung to hear that she expected him to throw her out as soon as the deed was done. He supposed she had every right to after his attempt to leave her alone in the woods that first night. It should have been clear to her he enjoyed her company by now. Hadn’t she noticed all of the parts of himself he’d conceded to her? He’d told her about Cazador- Not everything but more than he thought he’d be willing to share with another person. He let her linger in his personal space and hold his hand almost constantly. He watched out for her when she was too blinded by her own generosity to do it herself. He had even admitted how important her well being had become to his own! And still, she assumed he’d toss her out into the night. 
“Of course you can stay,” He scowled tuting his disapproval as he spoke, “I just assumed you would start staying with me after I invited you to the other night. Apparently, I should have been more clear. Unless I tell you otherwise, you are always welcome to stay with me, Daffodil. So please stop acting as if I’m some cold-hearted dastard? It’s offensive and it bruises my ego.” 
“You mean it?” She chirped a blinding grin across her winsome features, “I can stay here whenever?”
He groaned, “Yes. I know you don’t like trancing alone and I like having you around. It makes sense for us to share quarters. If I need space I’m sure you’ll know. Now I’m going to get your food and water before you swoon from bloodloss or over-excursion.” 
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mrsdobrik · 4 years ago
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Heey, love your writing! Sorry if its too specific, but can I request something where the reader is an engineer (or something along those lines) and david is fascinated by your job and what you do that he keeps bragging about it to his friends and on the podcast like "my girlfriend's a smart cookie" idk i feel like he would be so prouuud
I’m terribly sorry to any engineers or future engineers out there who might read this highly inaccurate piece of fiction. I am a woman of letters not numbers thus engineering to me is a rather abstract concept. Any how, I shall try so I hope you enjoy! 
Y/n’s nose had for about a week been burried in a stack of papers and photocopies, a pencil was perpetually held in her hair so she could now and again take it out to scribble on whatever she was reading. This type of behavior took over her life from time to time and it always meant the same thing, the answer was close. 
It was, however, the first time it happened since she had moved in with her boyfriend. And, of course, this change in behavior picked his interest. 
“What are you doing?” He asked, taking a peak over her shoulder. 
“I’m... trying to create a voice box” She replied, her eyes still fixated on the paper. 
“How?” He looked at her with curiosity in his eyes. 
“Well, that’s the problem, that and the fact that to be able to learn to talk you have to be quite young, like a child, and that if it were to be implanted into a child it would have to adapt to the child’s growth.” She smiled at him. 
“And are you close to finding out how?” David kept asking. He grabbed one of the papers of the top and looked though all the scribbles and doodles.
“I hope so, god knows I need to stop drinking coffee and get a proper night of sleep.” She chuckled. 
“How are you so smart?” 
Y/n laughed. “I went  to college and read a bunch of books, they are like food for your brain.” 
“Yeah, but a lot of people go to college and not everyone is out there helping kids become Iron Man” He beamed at her, his expression filled with pride. 
“Let me get this straight, I went through six years of college so you can describe my job as a biomedical engineer as helping kids become Iron Man. Weirdly enough I’m fine with that” She chuckled. 
“So...” David started, he had that look on his face like a kid on Christmas morning, but one who got a flamethrower from Santa and is about to burn the house down. 
“No, David. I can’t make you an Iron Man suit” She rolled her eyes at him. 
“Not even...” 
“Nope, not even the glasses.” She completed his thought and pecked his lips before getting back to work. 
...
“So... yesterday I found out what my girlfriend actually does for a living... so, I thought she just kind of did something math related. Turns out, she fucking turns people into cyborgs.” David spoke into the mic. 
“Guys, just a quick disclaimer, Y/n is an engineer in the medical field, she does not turn people into cyborgs, despite how much David would like that.” Jason laughed at his statement. 
“Yes he does bro! I swear! I asked her yesterday what she was doing and guess what? She was designing a fucking voice box. She said she couldn’t turn me into Iron Man, I already asked, but I think she might be able to and she just doesn’t want to tell me.” David frowned at the last part. 
“How is it that you of all people ended up with her? I mean it’s insane, she is out there inventing things that will literally save people’s lives and you are here... recording this podcast”
“Oh, trust me, I’ve been asking that to myself all day. She is insanely smart. And you know what, she is also funny and a nice person. Like, how does that happen? I feel like it should be illegal. Like when god was making her he was like, okay so she is going to be outstandingly beautiful and have a great sense of humor and she is going to be a nice person but she is going to be a dumb dumb, you know kind of like how he made me, but then he picked the wrong fucking bottle and made her smart too!” 
“She is going to love this.” Jason laughed. 
“I’m serious Jay. Like isn’t it crazy? I know I might be partial because I’m fucking so in love with her, but truly from an outside perspective, isn’t she like insanely amazing?”
“Well, maybe she made herself Iron Man. Like, have you seen that movie about the wives that turn into perfect cyborgs?... The stepford wives. Maybe she turned herself into a cyborg and made herself perfect.” 
 “Well but shouldn’t there be like a scar or something? Cause trust me I’ve seen every inch and there are no signs of her having possibly turned into a cyborg. Also wouldn’t she like, be stopped at TSA? We’ve travelled together before and she always walked through the metal detector just fine.” David debunked his own theory. 
“Maybe you should ask her to replace your brain for one that actually works” Jason laughed. 
“Maybe you should ask her to replace your body for one that actually works, you fat fuck!” David teased back. 
“Oh fuck you!” 
“You should not be insulting me right now, my cyborg girlfriend might have laser eyesight and use it to destroy you.” 
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chiarahq · 4 years ago
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me  being  late  ?  unfortunately  more  likely  than  u  would  think  😔  but  i'm  here  now  &  so  excited  to  be  part  of  a  celeb  rp  again  because  they  are  my  kryptonite  !  i’m  sofi  (21,  gmt,  she/her)  &  this  is  chiara,  &  yes  i  did  carefully  select  this  gif  because  she  looks  hot  asf  &  i  want  to  thirst  trap  u  all  into  plotting  with  me  (ur  welcome)  !
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⋆˙⊹  naressa valdez  ,  cis female  ,  she/her  — ‏‏‎ ‎ don't  look  now  ,  but  chiara  flores  just  walked  by  us  .  the  twenty -  three  year  old  lingerie  model  turned  entrepreneur  has  been  causing  quite  a  stir  lately  .  they're  known  to  be  quite  decorous  &  garrulous  ,  but  also  sybaritic  &  ambivalent  .  it's  no  wonder  they're  hollywoods  resident  bellwether  . rumor  has  it  they're  hiding  redacted ,  but  don't  ask  them  about  it  .  
&.  a  satin  brassiere  peeking  from  beneath  a  velveteen  pantsuit,  dainty  gold  chains,  wine  -  toned  lipgloss  &  smoked  liner,  an  inviting  smile  that  would  make  a  stranger  feel  at  home,  and  the  gentle  graze  of  fingertips  against  the  forearm    .
𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞  𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬.
full  name:  chiara  ysabel  flores. nickname/s:  chi,  open  to  pet  names. gender  &  pronouns:  cis  female  &  she/her. birthdate:  sept  25th. zodiac:  libra. orientation:  bisexual  &  biromantic. traits:  your  stereotypical  libra,  aka,  tactful,  gregarious,  &  visionary,  yet  indecisive,  vain,  &  vacillating. career:  lingerie  model  turned  fashion  mogul;  recently  launched  her  own  makeup  and  lingerie  brand  (  claim:  fenty  )
𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭  𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐚  𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐬.
familial  connections  :  chiara  was  a  long  awaited  addition  to  the  flores  family;  with  maria  flores  thoroughly  convinced  that  she  would  never  experience  the  motherhood  she  had  always  dreamed  of  until  she  was  finally  blessed  with  her  first  &  only  child.  rather  naively,  maria  and  andre  expected  that  the  birth  of  their  daughter  would  be  the  missing  piece  to  restoring  their  already  crumbling  marriage  -  however,  if  anything,  the  added  stress  of  a  baby  was  the  nail  in  the  coffin.  that  said,  it  was  in  their  best  interest  to  stick  it  out  for  the  sake  of  their  public  reputation.  a  tiny  chiara  often  found  herself  caught  in  the  middle  of  an  argument,  and  as  she  grew  older,  found  herself  stepping  up  as  mediator.  her  presence  was  a  constant  reminder  that  although  they  no  longer  loved  each  other  the  way  they  once  had,  they  had  both  contributed  to  create  another  human  being  that  they  equally  adored  with  all  their  hearts  -  and  they  would  continue  to  push  themselves  to  last  another  day.  the  facade  of  their  relationship  finally  came  crashing  down  when  chiara  turned  sixteen,  and  andre  flores  was  caught  having  a  cosy  dinner  with  a  woman  much  too  young  to  be  his  wife.  once  the  public  found  out  there  was  no  longer  any  need  to  keep  up  the  pretences,  and  so  the  flores’  filed  for  divorce.  although  chiara  was  entirely  aware  of  the  state  of  their  marriage,  it  was  still  difficult  to  endure  -  especially  in  such  a  public  sense.  that  said,  everything  worked  out  for  the  best,  and  the  flores’  still  spend  every  holiday  together  as  a  family.
career  ;  from  a  young  age,  chiara  shone.  her  cherubic  features  &  polite  nature  opened  multiple  doors  for  her  from  a  young  age;  from  her  successful  modelling  career  to  her  stint  in  child  acting.  chiara  pursued  a  lot  of  things,  but  she  never  stumbled  upon  anything  that  was  more  than  a  fad.  that's  the  thing  about  chi;  she's  passionate  &  always  on  the  go,  but  often  lost  interest  fast.  she’d  pick  something  up,  just  to  drop  it  the  next  day  or  week  or  month.  it  was  a  running  joke  within  her  family;  her  parents  unable  to  keep  up  with  what  would  capture  chiara’s  attention  next.  something  that  persevered  was  her  relentless  need  to  be  in  control.  some  would  call  it  pernickety,  though  she  would  call  it  having  direction.  whatever  she  decided  to  put  her  mind  to,  for  however  long  she  felt  like  it,  she  would  excel.  with  the  safety  of  her  parents’  wealth  to  fall  back  on,  chiara  tried  her  hand  at  pretty  much  everything  you  could  imagine  -  she  dabbled  in  photography,  took  a  few  singing  classes  before  she  ultimately  decided  she  was  tone-deaf,  rekindled  her  acting  career  for  the  duration  of  a  handful  of  auditions,  and  even  attended  college  for  a  whopping  seven  weeks  before  dropping  out.  her  career  in  modelling  was  the  only  thing  that  was  a  constant,  with  her  signing  with  tbd  lingerie  company  (  bc  we  don’t  stan  vs  in  this  house  ).  chiara  was  happy  enough  during  her  time  there,  but  the  lack  of  diversity  within  the  brand  became  outstandingly  obvious  (  👀  ),  &  eventually  she  decided  to  take  matters  into  her  own  hands  ;  launching  her  own  inclusive  lingerie  brand,  ysabel.  following  the  success  of  ysabel,  she  then  extended  her  brand  to  include  makeup  products. 
personality  ;   
yes  we’re  switching  to  bullet  points  who  needs  consistency
chiara  is  a  bit  of  a  walking  oxymoron.  she’s  an  incredibly  passionate  &  determined  individual,  yet  her  attention  &  interest  are  fleeting.  when  she  cares,  she  cares  with  every  inch  of  her  being  -  but  the  minute  that  drive  is  gone  ?  she’ll  ditch.  
despite  mediating  pretty  much  her  parents’  entire  relationship,  chi  hates  confrontation.  she  radiates  Bad  Bitch  energy,  but  really  is  prone  to  sitting  on  the  fence  &  ducking  out  when  shit  hits  the  fan. 
chi  is  ridiculously  self-indulgent.  she  cannot  say  no  to  herself,  like,  ever.  it’s  a  dangerous  habit  that  extends  beyond  herself  -  if  she  sees  something  she  thinks  a  friend  will  like,  it’s  in  her  basket  without  a  second  thought,  aka  she’s  the  best  present  giver  ever.  as  a  result  of  her  indulgence,  however,  she  can  sometimes  come  across  as  kinda  ignorant  :/  
relationships  are  kind  of  an  iffy  area  for  chi...  she  knows  all  too  well  how  badly  they  can  go  spiralling  down,  so  she  tries  not  to  let  herself  get  too  attached,  but  for  the  most  part  she  fails  &  becomes  kinda  ...  infatuated.  she’s  terrible  with  rejection  due  to  her  obsession  with  how  people  view  her,  &  will  without  a  doubt  take  it  to  heart  -  so  for  the  most  part  sticks  to  flings  &  meaningless  flirtationships
has  a  pet  doberman  that  she  absolutely  adores  &  treats  as  if  its  a  little  baby  handbag  dog  <3 
𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝  𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬
brotp  
sibling  like  friendship
ride  or  die 
childhood  friends
family  friends 
platonic  soulmates 
model  friends  /  models  recruited  for  her  brand  
unlikely  friendship
intrigue
project  partners
familial  connections  ?  maybe  a  cousin  ? 
mutual  friends  
childhood  crush  ?  maybe  a  friend  of  the  family  where  their  parents  always  joked  they’d  get  together  one  day
party  friends
good  /  bad  influence 
opposites  attract
exes  to  friends
muse
wingman/woman/person 
pr  stunt 
exes  (  good  terms,  bad  terms,  past  fling,  ghosted  )
will-they-won’t-they
fwb  /  ewb
confidants 
rival
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mistystarshine · 8 years ago
Text
Bloodlines
Summary: Not everyone is what they seem. That’s especially true for Hayato’s little sister.
Notes: Blame @sentochoryu for this. Shinokira (sorta) one-shot kidfic for the masses. The same fic, now proofread.
She’d been acting strangely for several days. Being quiet at meals was nothing new, but her general behavior had changed. Normally, she would pipe up on the occasions she had something to add, listen to what he and mother said, and take her time eating. Now, she barely said anything, didn’t seem to listen, and got out as fast as she could. She didn’t leave the house aside from school and spent the bulk of her time in her room.
Their mother was obviously worried, yet clearly didn’t know what to do about it. He was worried as well. He was worried that his younger sister was getting bullied or feeling especially self-conscious. She wasn’t exactly an average eight-year-old. Even adults could have trouble understanding obsessive behaviors and odd hobbies. Children? Children could be downright cruel when one of their own went against the norm.
Yes, he worried for his little sister, but there was another, treacherous little part of him that was worried about his little sister. It was that same part of him that had been whispering distrust ever since she was born in the Spring of 2000. A baby girl born with blonde hair that didn’t fit her mother or fa- Kosaku Kawajiri. A child born to a newly widowed woman who had barely acknowledged her husband until a short time ago. There was no way she could be anything but what she was.
It was ridiculous for a sixteen-year-old to be scared of an eight-year-old girl. Just like most would say that it was ridiculous for an eight-year-old boy to be scared of his ‘father’.
If he dug down inside himself, he would find that he wasn’t sure whether it was fear for her or of her that drove him to confront her about her strange behavior. All he knew was that one evening after dinner, he found himself standing at the door to her bedroom. He knocked once before calling, “Yoriko?” No answer. “If you don’t say anything, I’m coming in.” Again, there was no answer.
He took a steadying breath before opening the door. He was greeted by the sight of pale green walls with cat posters plastered on at regular intervals. There was a little writing desk and a chair in one of the corners. A hardwood dresser was pressed against the wall across from the bed. It had a series of little knick-knacks on the surface, mostly fossils and historical figurines, arranged in a perfect line from smallest to largest. He briefly glanced at all the places he could hide a camera. So far, this room was completely bug-free because he was certain that she would find anything he hid. Yoriko was observant and painfully tedious when it came to arranging her living space. On the bed, with her knees pulled up to her chest, sat the girl herself.
“Hayato,” she murmured. “What do you want?”
There, he hesitated. Hayato Kawajiri had never been particularly good with words. Outstandingly clever, subtly creative, and surprisingly protective, but never eloquent. After a moment of hesitation, he said, “you’ve been acting strange lately. You know you can talk to me if anything’s wrong, right?” As he spoke, it occurred to him that he sounded like his mother. He didn’t think that was a bad thing. If he could have talked to her back then… It would have broken her heart.
Another few seconds of hesitation, this time from the younger of the siblings. She eventually nodded. “Uhuh.” There was a lilt to her voice that spoke of someone who was unsure. Wide brown eyes moved from looking at his face to the floor. Guilt burned in his chest at the action. The blonde hair framing her face and sly grin she sometimes wore could only be the echoes of something terrible, but those eyes were all Shinobu.
She was only eight years old.
“You know,” he cautiously began, “I was going through a lot of stuff when I was eight years old. It was… scary. I would have liked it if I could have talked to someone about it.”
Now she snapped up to meet his gaze. “What kind of stuff?”
His mind flashed to bombs and time loops, stolen identities and stolen lives. His mother’s despair when her husband didn’t come home, the guilt he felt when he couldn’t bring himself to tell her why he wasn’t coming back or just how long he’d been gone. He thought of a baby girl who didn’t quite fit, who had never hurt anyone, who he had played with and watched out for, but he still struggled to trust sometimes. Could she begin to understand the weight of the question she had just asked? It would break her heart, he found himself thinking once again.
“I don’t think you’d believe me if I told you.”
His excuse was just that, an excuse. An attempt to divert her curiosity before she had to face any hard truths. It had the exact opposite of the desired effect. Yoriko’s voice grew more insistent when she repeated, “what kind of stuff?”
That sent off a whole new batch of alarm bells. Hayato began to approach his sister’s bed. She wordlessly scooted over to make room. He took a seat on the edge and tried to hide the alarm rushing through him. Although Yoriko was trying to do the same, she was doing a poor job of it. She unconsciously began tugging on one of the sleeves of her kitten pajamas. When she began to chew on her lower lip, he forced himself to speak. “Have strange things been happening to you? Things that don’t seem like they should be able to happen?”
A combination of fear and relief rushed across her face. It nearly made his heart stop in his chest, because in that moment, with that expression alone, he knew. He knew what she had been hiding before she said anything. But she didn’t know that, so she choked out, “I… it…” Forming words was clearly a struggle. After a few more stammering attempts, she bit her lower lip. Then the atmosphere of the room changed.
Hayato looked around, but he couldn’t see anything. He never did. But he could feel it, the lingering presence, that sense that an additional person was watching him. It was the feeling he got whenever he was near a stand ever since Bites the Dust. Sometimes, if he squinted just right, he could see a distortion in the air. He didn’t have time to spot it before Yoriko made a dismayed noise. “You can’t see it.” That voice wasn’t just heartbroken; it was scared.
He had been scared, too, eight years ago.
“No,” he admitted, “but I know something’s there.” The way her eyes lit up only did so much to stop the hammering of his heart. Could she hear it? Some of those stands could do incredible things. Dangerous things. It was tempting to ask what that thing did and what she was planning to do with it. Instead, he asked what any eight-year-old who had probably been fearing that they were going insane would want to hear. “What does it look like?”
“Mist,” was her prompt response. “Whispy pink mist. But sometimes… I think I see a girl? Only sometimes. She’s faint like a ghost and wearing a cloak. I think she’s holding something, but I can’t see what it is. Fades more by her hands and feet.”
He nodded slowly. The translucence made sense from what he knew. Something Josuke said… something about development? Rather than dwell on it, he moved on to the important question. “Does it do anything?”
Now the excitement began to fade. Yoriko’s lips curled into a frown and she furrowed her brow the way she did when she was troubled. “She doesn’t do anything, but since she’s been appearing, I’ve been seeing things sometimes. In the mist, mostly. There’s all sorts of things, no pattern. I didn’t think it was anything at first, aside from the seeing things that aren’t there bit, but… it showed me Rena falling off the swing set and hurting her wrist at school. Then she did. That was three days ago. But it also showed me hurting my tooth eating chicken during dinner last night. I didn’t eat the chicken and it didn’t happen.” Her gaze had begun to wander away from Hayato. He could see the tears starting to form in there anyway.
“That’s-”
She cut him off before he could finish. “Sometimes, I see people. Outside of the mist. They weren’t in Morioh before, and they… I don’t think anyone else can see them.” Now her voice was truly frightened. She was wringing her hands together and looked like she was on the verge of a breakdown while Hayato felt like he had a thousand thoughts racing through his head at once. He had been told about Reimi and the ghost alley; was it possible that she was seeing something like that? What about the stuff in the ‘mist’? If one of the visions hadn’t come true, there was no way she could be seeing any sort of guaranteed future. Possibilities, maybe?
The ability to peer into the future, even possible futures, had the potential to wreck all sorts of havoc. But it didn’t sound like her stand had any abilities that were physically damaging. Emotionally damaging to the user, clearly, but not physically. Hayato couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief. “Yoriko-”
Again, she cut him off. She looked him in the eye once more, but this time with suspicion written across her features. “But you can’t see her either. Why are you listening to me? Are you-” Her sentence was cut off as her throat tightened up on her. However, he could tell how that question was going to end by the hurt on her face. Are you messing with me? 
Their mother was also expressive.
He knew exactly how Yoshikage Kira had gone about possessing a stand. But how would Shinobu Kawajiri have dealt with it? How did someone handle seeing things that could be so terrifying and thinking you were the only one who could see them?
No one should have to go through that alone. Especially not a child.
Hayato reached out to pull his little sister into a hug. She let out a surprised squeak but melted into his embrace after a moment. It caused that guilty feeling to return. “I can’t see it,” he said, “but I know people who can. You’re not the only one with a… invisible friend.”
“I’m not?” He let her go and nodded. Her eyes were still tear-stained, but now there was a bit of hope in them. “Can I meet them?”
Now, Hayato hesitated. He had lived with Yoriko for eight years and still found himself doubting her sometimes. The few times one of the people who had been involved in the 1999 incident had seen his sister, he had caught them giving her nervous looks. There was no way they wouldn’t treat her a little differently. They might try, but they were bound to feel the same fear that he did upon finding out about her stand. And they didn’t have those eight years. But that was so much weight to carry, she seemed so scared, and no eight-year-old should go through something like that alone.
“Yes,” he said. “Yes, you can.” She finally smiled and all he could think about was all the paths this could take. All the ways that smile could fade. Yoriko was a smart girl. A few physical traits could be blown off for a while, but when you considered the other pieces of the puzzle, things would being to add up. Eventually, she would notice how some people treated her differently. She would notice how she was the only person in her family with a stand or realize that there had been too many coincidences during the summer of 1999. Eventually, she would ask questions and, eventually, they would be answered.
It would break her heart. If they weren’t careful, it would do more than that. Things never stayed peaceful where stands were involved. There was too much buried around the town of Morioh for something not to be dug up one day. What were the chances that some bit of the past would come looking for a girl able to see the future?
There was an odd quirk at the corners of her lips that could easily turn her smile into something dangerously sly. It was so similar to the one in his nightmares. But the eyes were different. She was different. That smile was more sincere than his ever was. Looking at that smile, he made a vow that was so similar to one made eight years ago.
I promise I’ll protect you.
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solest · 4 years ago
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Depression stuff ahead, still don't know how to cut/spoiler on mobile.
I'm sorry for my child-self that had to suffer through mobbing by teachers and students, but I can't bring myself to love that part or at least accept it. That feeling of "wrong" and "not part of us", "weird" and whatnot is so engraved in the very core of myself that I can't shake it off.
I want to embrace it. I want to be able to love myself unconditionally, but sadly all I can think of are a thousand conditions I have to fulfill to be worthy, in my head. I have to be good at something, outstandingly so, or I'm still the weird and wrong child I was.
I see this in my everyday life now. I do have hobbies like cosplaying. I like things considered "childish", dye my hair every other minute and should not give a fuck about what people think. But that's all I care about. I want to be accepted so badly, I feel ashamed for what I like. Its wrong. Because I like it. I think I have to live a life so uniform that I won't stand out, while simultaneously thinking I have to stand out to be worthy of admiration and love. And my mind is looking at me, thinking "wtf, that's not what we want?" but what I want will only bring me exclusion, from what I learned. I'm not happy with either. When I try to fit in, I feel lost. When I try to be myself, I don't really know what that is and live with the constant fear of being resent for it.
On top of that, all therapists asking themselves and me where that self hate comes from. They say it can't be only caused by the mobbing. But that's the only explanation I have and I feel overlooked and invalidated when they tell me it's not that. It could not have been that bad, right? It was only mobbing, right? Maybe I'm at fault for just being me, so of course I was an easy target. That's an actual statement of a therapist. I know what he means by it, that some people are prone to get into a victim role from their inner structure, but it still makes me angry and sad. I did not want to be excluded and laughed at. I did not want to be mocked until I had a meltdown in front of everybody and then hear that I must have some kind of disability, that I'm not right in my head. I wanted my nine year old self to be that, a nine year old. That plays with her friends. That thinks about what school she will attend after elementary. I feared school. I feared being exposed by kids I was friends with, just half a year ago and who went to kindergarten with me. I feared the teachers who seemed to not do anything or kept on adding to it. Because I was a burden this way. Oh no, she's crying again, what was it this time?
Being told that, yeah, this was terrible but not to the point your self image changed so much is not helping mit makes me angry and gives me a feeling of being misunderstood and not taken seriously. Of course there can be other factors. I have a genetic disposition for anxiety disorders. Maybe some of that self hate was already in me, for whatever reason, but it was triggered and got worse through my experiences with my peer group, and that's not valid?
I really wish I would have beat at keadt one of those fuckers up. I never defended myself. I didn't want to hurt anyone, because that's wrong, while I was hurt psychologically and physically more than once. But it still does not count. Because I don't count. The world might be better off with that whiny thing that's me. I'm not suicidal, it has no meaning for me I just sometimes think it might have been better to not exist in the first place. But now I'm here.
I want to accept what happened. I want to accept myself, just a tiny bit. Unconditional love is such an abstract and far away concept for myself, that I might never archive it, but at keadt give me a feeling of being remotely okay, this would be nice.
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