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xseaxwitchxkpop · 3 years

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NSFW Alphabet: Sub!Seonghwa Edition

A/N: idk anyone in Ateez who pushes the catboy agenda more than hwa and this precious soul just makes me have cute aggression. Lemme just remind everyone that stage presence ≠ bedroom preference, so he might be a demon on stage but I personally think he's very far from dominant in the bedroom. Also this is framed for a femme!presenting reader.

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A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

A very clingy baby! Even though he's the sub, he would want to hold you instead of the other way around; when you're cleaning up, give him a plushie to snuggle because he just feels very happy holding something. He would also have the most sparkly eyes ever, looking at you with pure love and adoration. He'll also be very hungry, so always have some food on hand and be prepared to be fed by him because "you need it, too, I don't care if you're my domme, lemme feed you and show you my love!"

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He's fave part on himself is probably his eyes because he knows how expressive they are for him and how transparent they are -- his eyes always betray his true emotions and considering he's a more private person, he likes this. His fave part on you would be your breasts, but not in a sexual way; whether you're part of the itty bitty titty committee or big titty gang, he likes them as a comfort thing, groping them or sucking on your nipples, it's very calming and relaxing for him!

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

He loves his face to be covered in either pussy juices/"cum" (since, ya know, pussies don't ejaculate lmao anyway) or use fake cum (or real cum if you have an actual dick) to cover his face and/or inner thighs, it'll get him going like nothing else. He also loves seeing his midsection painted with his own cum and also eating his own cum.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Every once in a while, he likes to fuck his plushies. No one would suspect this because he takes much care in cleaning them immediately afterward, so they keep their softness and hugability. He's recorded himself doing it a few times but always either deletes the videos or keeps them in a separate, unsuspecting folder in his phone; he's thought about sending them to you but never could bring himself to do so.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He's had a few hook ups but most of them have been pretty vanilla as many hook ups tend to be, he knows what he's doing especially with that tongue of his.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Probably missionary, with you on your back and him fucking you. He can easily kiss you, suck on your neck or nipples, and you can easily grab his hair roughly, pull him in closer, scratch his back with your nails, and you two can make intense eye contact. Yeah, that's his favorite position.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

He's more passionate about it than anything. He likes it rough but not necessarily fast, and he likes it soft but not necessarily gentle. It's a very delicate balance that he prefers most of the time and can be difficult to pin down when the mood has to be forced from either of you -- when that happens, he rather not have sex at all.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Trimmed, doesn't bother to shave and he doesn't care what you do; bush, no bush, trimmed, shaved, waxed, whatever. However, he likes it when you shave for him down there as a sweet bonding experience, nothing kinky or sexual.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

He's very sincere and very intense during sex, especially with someone he's romantically involved with because he's not the most open person and, like Yeosang, takes some prying open emotionally so when he shares that emotional part of himself and trusts that other person, that translates directly to the bedroom. He can be a little goofy if he's particularly happy that day, like giggly kisses n' shit, but otherwise very sincere, very intense.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

If he jacks off, you know about it because he sends you audios of himself getting himself off, complete with moans, whimpers, groans, muffling himself, and him cumming in the end of it. He never sends videos, though, because his ass has a voice kink. He masturbates semi regularly just because he has a high sex drive and you're not always available so he temporarily satisfies himself.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

So, this man, has some kinks that get me thinking. He has an oral fixation for sure, so anything involving his tongue; he definitely has a breeding kink like hard-core "let me breed you, mommy/daddy, I wanna give you babies" breeding kink, more so than San; temperature play; pegging/anal play; cock rings; nail scratching; biting/marking; kitten play; shibari; restraints; voice kink; ASMR kink.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Hmmmm, maybe the bedroom? He doesn't really have a favorite place to do anything because each place brings a different kind of thrill for him, so anywhere he can look at and easily imagine you commanding him to take you or you taking him is his favorite place. His least favorite place is the shower because the water washes away the lube and is just generally an annoying interruption.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Doing a sexy, feminine dance for you. Sexy girl group concepts? He learns the choreo and dances it just for you; turns him on because he enjoys you intently watching him while being just out of reach. Rubbing your hand up and down his thigh, no matter how innocent, will also turn him on greatly. Also if you cook for him -- it can be as simple as ramen but as soon as he sees that you cooked for him, he's ready to pounce you and be at your every command.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

I don't think he would be into piss play or scat play (absolutely no hate to people who are into this lol) but I think he wouldn't like them just because he's a bit of a clean freak and all he would see is a mess to clean up and that would definitely ruin the mood for him. Another definite turn off of his is extreme pain; he likes a little bit here and there, like slapping his ass and thighs, nail scratches wherever you scratch him, but flogging and riding crops are a no go for him.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

He LIVES for giving oral and that's directly from his oral fixation. It keeps his mouth busy plus he gets to please his partner. Again, he also loves his face covered in cum and/or pussy juices, so oral is definitely such fun for him!

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Moderate. He likes it a little faster than slower, but not exactly fast, if you get what I'm saying. He likes to feel you and you to feel him, so he wants it on the slower side of things but a slightly fast pace will be suitable for the most part. Only every once in a blue moon would he want you to fuck his brains out or to fuck yours out.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Quickies involving penetration? Nah, not a fan. Quickies involving oral? Sign him the fuck up. He wants to see how fast he can get you to orgasm with just his tongue and since you derive such pleasure from it as well, you let him take on this challenge.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

As long as extreme pain is not involved, he's game for a lot of things. He's always wanted to try semi public sex, voyeurism, and submissive cuckolding, but he would only try this with one of his members since he trusts them quite a lot.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

I think he could probably go two, three rounds, maybe four if he has a crapton of energy for God only knows what reason. He has experience, jacks off sort of regularly, so he can last a good while in bed while being pounded into or pounding into you.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He's got dildos of varying sizes because he, like San, is also a size queen. He has a couple of buttons plugs and some vibrators, along with handcuffs and bondage rope. He has a couple pairs of kitten ears and a matching choker and butt plug.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He likes to tease, but not in a bratty way. It's a very sweet way, like poking your cheek and rubbing it like a cat as he strokes your inner thigh and ghosts your genitals, teases you with food like "hey if I make this dish, maybe you can fuck my ass tonight" and he'd act all cutesy about it, he'll make suggestive comments while making direct eye contact, and wiggle his butt sometimes.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He's a happy medium between San and Yeosang. Hwa makes noise - groans, whimpers, moans, mewling - but he isn't loud with them per say, they're very throaty noises and he uses his chest to make them so they're low in volume but frequent.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

He quite prefers the natural noises of sex between you two rather than having a playlist or any other background noise going. He's sensitive to noise in the first place and the background noise could overwhelm him in a bad way.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

He's average. Nothing too long, nothing too girthy, but boy does he know how to use his average dick regardless.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

He has a bit of a high sex drive. Think like smack in the middle of average horny and extremely horny and that's Hwa. He can go like three days without sex with no complaints but coming up on a fourth day may be a little bit hard for him.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He becomes quite sleepy afterward, wanting to snuggle you to fall asleep while you rub his back up and down and he holds you and squeezes you like his personal plushie. It takes a while for him to actually fall asleep, but that's because it takes him a while to calm down enough to lull into a peaceful state of rest before succumbing to sleep.

#sub!ateez alphabet #sub!ateez #sub!seonghwa #sub!idol #ateez headcannons #my works #ateez #ateez imagine #seonghwa #dom!reader #fem!reader #lemon hours

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mandoalorian · 3 years

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Borrowed Time [Din Djarin x F!Reader]

ੈ♡˳‧₊*: • Chapter 4: The Bounty ✩࿐ ˚.✧

Summary: You are the princess of Mandalore, held hostage on your own planet by Moff Gideon and his army of Imperial troopers. Left with no choice, you send out a distress signal; a plea for protection— and who comes? None other than Din Djarin, a foundling of The Death Watch. He, by creed, is your sworn enemy. And where you have asked for his protection, he has been told by his mentor that he must marry you and gain the ability to restore Mandalore to its former glory.

Word Count: 2400>

Warnings: allusions to male masturbation, protector!Din comes with his own warning.

Series Masterlist

Maker, you were beautiful.

The way you slept was so peaceful, basking in the moonlight. Din was surprised you could even sleep that well on top of the rock hard slap he called a bed. He thought the child was cute when he slept, but as Din watched you, revelling in the way your chest rose and fell with every breath, he swore he had never seen such heavenliness in his life.

He’d gotten lucky, he had to admit that. You were the Manda’lor, and you could’ve been a Gungan or a Rodian or who knows what… but you weren’t. You were a human who looked distinctly similar to the illustrations of angels in the fairytale books Din grew up reading. You were brave and fierce, but you were still the same girl who burst into tears only minutes after meeting Din. You were special, different. And Din had never let himself feel this way about anyone before. Truthfully, it scared him.

And Din didn’t get scared either. He was a scarred, battle hardened Mandalorian warrior. Very little affected him... but already, his heart ached for you. He was yearning. He saw the way you were with the child, and the love you had in your heart. He was a fighter, and the way the creed had brought him up, he’d never known any different, but you were a princess. You showed him that you didn’t need to win your battles through violence, but you could do it through peace and love. Just like your mother; duchess Satine Kryze of Mandalore.

Din sighed, and raised his hands to remove his helmet. You were asleep, so it was okay. Just for once he wanted to look at you with his own eyes. And somehow, it was even better. Din discarded his gloves and quietly took off his beskar armour and boots, preparing to settle himself down for bed, but as he undressed, he didn’t take his eyes off you once. So so beautiful.

Maybe you and Din were more similar than you first realised, because Din was throbbing by the time he went to the refresher. He leaned against the cool wall and closed his eyes, palming at his erection through his pants. He felt so confined and he was desperate for some kind of relief. But when he closed his eyes, he wasn’t seeing the usual darkness. All he could see was you.

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You weren't sure how long you had been asleep for. But it was the distinct smell of bone broth that woke you up. Your eyes slowly fluttered open and it took you a few moments to focus your vision, getting used to what was about to be your temporary (yet still new) home. You stretched your body and yawned, bringing your fists to your face to rub your eyes.

“You're up,” Din commented, his modulated voice stating the obvious. You jumped when you saw the beskar clad figure standing at the edge of the bed—just watching you. How long had he been watching you? “There's a bowl of bone broth waiting for you.” he informed you and you scrunched up your nose at the unpleasant smell. “What? You don't like it?”

No. Was there anyone in the galaxy who actually liked bone broth? You assumed it was just something the settlers on Sorgan ate because they had no other choice, and it was cheap. Did the Mandalorian really drink bone broth? He’d already sounded irked and you had just woken up.

“Uhm…” your voice trailed off, your gaze flicking between the bowl of soup and the Mandalorian. "Do you have any fruit? Sourberries, maybe?" You tried your best to dodge his question and sound polite, but judging from Din’s reaction, you mustn’t have done a good job.

Din scoffed, before taking his rifle out of the armoury and attaching it to the holster on his back. What did he need a rifle for? "No. You think I have the credits for that? Sorry princess." He grumbled. And with that, he disappeared into the shadows of the ship.

You felt bad. You didn't mean to offend him, although you could completely understand how your comment came across. Ungrateful. You weren't ungrateful, it was just… bone broth was what you fed to the palace bluurgs. It wasn't something you ever voluntarily chose to consume. You looked back over at the steaming bowl of soup and sighed. Why did you even feel bad? You barely knew him. You were the literal princess of Mandalore and - no, you wouldn’t feel bad for a child of the watch. If anything he should feel bad for the actions of his people and what they had done to yours. What they had done to you. You slipped out of Din’s bed and picked up your bowl of broth before heading down the hull of the ship, wanting to find him and apologise. He’d given up his bed for you, he was making sure you were well fed, the least you could do was say sorry.

But he was nowhere in sight. You’d noticed the ramp of the ship had been lowered, and a stream of natural sunlight was blazing into the ship. You had landed. Were you on Nevarro? Had he… had he left you without saying anything? Surely not. You padded into the cockpit only to find Grogu sitting in the pilot seat, playing with a small steel ball. He threw it between his three clawed hands and giggled every time he caught it.

“Hey kid,” you sighed, slipping into the co-pilot seat. “Where did your dad go?”

Grogu garbled a long winded response and you listened closely. No way. He was a bounty hunter? Kriff… you’d somehow managed to tie yourself into a bounty hunter’s affairs. You cursed yourself but continued to listen to the child’s explanation. Din had gone out to earn some quick credits, goodness knows what for. And he’d left Grogu on the ship with strict instruction to watch over you. You couldn’t help but laugh incredulously. He’d asked his child to make sure you wouldn’t get into trouble.

“He can’t just leave me on the ship and not say anything,” you laughed to yourself in disbelief, letting your head fall in your hands. The birds outside the ship tweeted and for Din to have left the ramp open, you knew that Nevarro must have been a safe planet. At least for the most part. “Do you come here much?” You asked Grogu, who nodded his head in affirmation, You hummed, picking up the child and nursing him on your lap. “Does your father always expect people to follow his rules?” you asked slyly, and even Grogu giggled. “Come on. Take me around Nevarro little one. I wish to explore.”

It wasn’t like you gave Grogu a choice, but you learned that he was practically just as mischievous as you were, and Din was wrong to leave a child in command of you. He was wrong to leave anyone in command of you. You’d lived on Mandalore your whole life, not once ever leaving the planet. Now you were finally further into the outer-rim than ever before and Din just expected you to stay on the ship? Not a chance. You picked up the child and carried him outside and oh stars - it was beautiful. The golden sunlight radiated warmth and you overheard the happy sound of children excitedly chirping away. Din had parked the Crest dead centre in the middle of town, it seemed, with stalls and vendors on every corner, peppering the streets. You hummed in contentment, and sat down on the edge of the ramp with your bowl of broth and Grogu.

“Do you like this?” you asked, mixing the broth with the spoon Din had provided you. Grogu nodded his head happily and you laughed. “Does Din eat it?” Grogu nodded his head even more and his lips curled into a smile when he realised you were about to try the soup. If both Din and the child ate bone broth regularly, then it couldn’t be that bad…

And it wasn’t, not really. You could get used to the taste. The odorous smell was more off putting than anything else. So, without fuss, you ate the bubbling brown substance and discarded the finished bowl back inside the ship. You weren’t going to be gone too long, just long enough to meet the townsfolk and get a feeling off the planet. You hadn’t been this excited about anything in a long time.

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This was never part of the plan, but in the 24 hours of knowing Din Djarin, you had softened him considerably; more so than what the Mandalorian would like to admit. He didn’t plan on being gone long. But he still wanted, no, he needed, to get on your good side if he planned on asking you to marry him. The thought of winning you over through a façade of lies didn’t sit right with him. He never had a strong moral compass but he believed that you should at least marry for love. But then again, love was a foreign concept to him. He’d seen it before, in his parents, but that was just a distant memory. It felt like a lifetime ago, and if the Armorer told him to marry you, he had to do it.

It wasn’t a choice. It was his duty as a Mandalorian.

“I need a quick job.” Din announced, sliding into the booth opposite Karga.

“Mando! Good to see you. Kid not with you today?” Greef Karga, esteemed magistrate of Nevarro asked.

“He’s on the ship,” Din shrugged casually, knowing that the child’s safety - and yours - would be guaranteed as long as you just stayed put. “I need a quick job. Something simple and on Nevarro.”

Karga scrunched up his eyebrows in bewilderment. “Coming from the hunter who normally takes four pucks at a time, this is new,” he chuckled. “But I don’t have anything of the sort. What’s it for?”

Din hesitated, having no reason to be dishonest but yet not wanting to explain more than necessary. “Sourberries.”

This was a foolish plan, but if you wanted sourberries then Din would get you sourberries. He had this primal urge in him to appease you. To win you over.

Karga blinked before erupting into a fit of belly laughter. Din shuffled around in his seat, clearly uncomfortable.

“Sourberries? Let me guess, is that code for something? I get it Mando. Us men have needs!” Karga laughed. “I do have one puck on Nevarro. Brand new. High paid. Imperial bounty," Karga hissed once his laughter settled down, but a smirk still played upon his lips. "You could buy a whole sourberry forest with the credits from this bounty.”

“You’re doing Imperial work, after everything we’ve been through?” Din frowned, shaking his head in disappointment. “Does Cara know?”

“It doesn’t matter. The Imps are the only ones who will pay Guild rates. Besides… I really didn’t have a choice. The guy who came to see me was an ex-ISB officer. Said he’s looking for a runaway princess. Figured the guy she ran away with is a settler on Nevarro. Told me he has a very distinct look but didn’t provide much more information.”

Din swallowed, his heart sinking in his chest. It couldn’t be, could it?

“What other information do you have?” Din countered. He had to know. He had to know so he could return back to the Crest and warn you. Maybe Nevarro wasn’t as safe as he’d predicted after all.

“Will you accept the bounty?” Karga asked. “Otherwise I can’t-”

“Listen, I need to know all that you know.” Din said sternly.

“Unless you’re willing to accept the puck, I can’t give you that information.”

Dank farrik. He couldn’t accept a bounty on you… he was your protector. What would he even tell you?

Once upon a time, he would’ve felt comfortable enough to explain his situation to Greef but if he was working with the Imperials again… maybe he wasn’t as trustworthy as Din once believed. He understood where Greef was coming from, to a degree. You were living during difficult times, but if he learned that you were the bounty and you were literally just a mile away, waiting on his ship, he’d have no choice but to notify this ex-ISB officer. If it meant Greef would earn his coin, Din wouldn’t put betrayal past him.

He needed the puck. He needed the puck because if he didn’t take it, another bounty hunter would. Of course Din wouldn’t let anyone even get near you, but if it was an Imperial bounty, he knew they’d just keep coming and coming. The Imperials didn’t give up easily. They didn’t give up with the child and they wouldn’t give up on you.

“I’ll take it.” Din announced after a moment of contemplation.

“Excellent!” Karga grinned, fishing out for the puck. “What I can tell you is this. She’s the princess of once of the very few Empire ruled planets. Could be Lothal, Naboo, Dathomir, maybe even Mandalore…” and then Karga began to describe your appearance. Everything from your eye colour, hair colour, skin tone… he had you to a T. This was not good.

“Do you know why she ran away?” Din asked, trying to swallow away any fear for your safety.

“I don’t ask questions like that,” Greef responded, shooting the Mandalorian a strange look. Din should have known better. “But they’re almost certain she’s on Nevarro so hopefully you won’t have to look far. I have no doubt a man of your talents will be able to bring her back to the Guild before nightfall, right?”

“Right…” Din replied, a little too quietly. “Dead or alive?”

“Alive only. No reward for a cold body,” Greef said strictly. “Good luck Mando,” Din was going to need more than just luck. He took the puck and stood up, Greef following from behind. “Hey, for your journey,” He smiled, handing the Mandalorian a bag of sourberries. “No charge. I’ve just… missed you.”

Din made a small noise of gratitude although it wasn’t received through the modulator, before taking the berries from his friend and leaving the cantina. It really was warm outside, so much so, wearing the beskar was even more uncomfortable than usual. He had to go see Cara, but suddenly, it was very unsafe for you to be on the ship if Imps were roaming the town looking for you. Thankfully, Nevarro had the perfect hiding spot for you; the covert. Only Din didn’t know how much the other children of the watch would take a liking to you… or you them. But neither of you had any other choice.

So when Din returned to the Crest, with sourberries and one hand and your bounty puck in another, he was mortified to see that neither you nor the child were there. His heart sank into his chest and his movements became erratic as he called your name and searched every crevice. Had they found you already? Had they taken the child? Oh no no no -

On impulse, Din fished into his armoury and grabbed more weapons, including explosives and detonators. He didn’t want this to get messy, but if the Imperials had taken both you and Grogu, there wasn’t a chance he’d go down without a fight. He’d have them begging for mercy. No one gets on the wrong side of Din Djarin.

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ssuckitlosers · 4 years

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Aph Body Headcanons: France, Prussia, Spain

Body hcs is hard for me, I don’t usually think about it in too much depth but I tried anon

France/Francis

Francis is canonically meant to be 5.9 though I typically see him as being around 5.10 and taller in shoes with a heel. He’s the shortest in the BTT though there not a big difference between him and Spain.

He has a pretty average build, with broad shoulders and narrow hips. I’d say he’d have a kind of romboid shape) He’s not the kind of person that really enjoys working out so pretty much all the muscle he has is from his daily activities and from him scrapping with England so I picture he’s lost a lot of muscle definition since he’s not engaging in as much strenuous work.

He’s never been particularly muscular though. His most defined muscles have always been in his arms and legs, with his stomach being toned but not really overtly. Fencing is where he gained a lot of his muscle though he’d probably be a good runner as well.

His face is his money maker though. He has more of a rectangular face shape with his face being fairly symmetrical. He puts a lot of effort into his skincare and he has an objectively pretty face with long eyelashes and blue/purple eyes. He’s even has a good side profile with a thin nose that comes to a point. (He probably had work done on his nose, it’s undoubtedly been broken by Arthur on multiple ocassions and he’s needed that straightened)

He has a kind of preppy rich kid aura around him which simulatiously draws people in and makes them underestimate him. His looks cause people to underestimate his intelligence and it makes him good for getting information out of people.

Spain/Antonio

Spain is only a few inches taller than France but his build makes him seem like a bigger presence.

Like Francis Antonio doesn’t care about working out, the last time he made an effort to get stronger was back when he was fighting England with his trusty battleaxe. That’s not to say that he’s lost his muscle though, he still does a lot of manual labour. He’s got broad shoulders and more of a rectangular shaped body.

I picture him as having a lot of lean muscle yet he comes across as bigger when you’re actually sizing him up. No one really pays attention to Antonio’s build unless they’re wanting to start a fight or their already in one.

And this man is a forced of nature when he’s mad, it’s a rare sight but when it happens he seems even more physically intimidating, when he starts getting angry everyone in the room freezes. When he stands straight and squares his shoulders he seems a lot bigger.

Though he has a friendly face most of the time. He has dark green eyes with eyelashes that’d make anyone jealous. His skin is tanned from being out in the sun and has fairly prominent tan lines. Though one thing about Antonio is that when he’d not smiling he’s quite unsettling. His resting face seems like he’s fed up and just waiting for someone to try him.

Prussia/Gilbert

Prussia’s the tallest of the three (apparently he’s meant to be the same height as France and I’m honestly shocked) he’s around 6.1 in my head.

I picture Prussia as having the body of a lightweight wrestler, he’s not as big as Germany but he’s still not someone you’d want to get in a fight with. He goes to the gym regularly so he has a fair share of muscle everywhere though I feel he’d pay extra attention to his arms.

He has broad shoulders and narrow waist and hips, I picture his body type to be the the inverted triangle one (who came up with the names for those idk). It makes him seem kind of top heavy but he works had to keep his legs defined as well.

He’s not someone that you’d forget soon, his looks combined with her loud personality make him pretty memeorable. He also has light eyebrows that slope down and give him a kind of menacing look. Though his resting face looks like he’s bored or unimpressed and his red eyes look like he’s judging you.

If Francis carries himself like a prep, Gilbert carries himself like a jock. Though not a particularly friendly one when he’s not joking around. He gives vibes that in a high school he’s be the one stuffing kids into lockers. While I’m not saying he’d necessarily do that his general demeanor makes him seem like the type.

#hetalia #aph prussia #aph france #aph spain #aph bad friends trio #aph btt #gilbert beilschmidt #antonio fernandez carriedo #francis bonnefoy #hetalia headcanons #my headcanons #sshutuploser

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conaionaru · 4 years

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Honor and Blood (Ivar the Boneless)

Brother and Sister

Synopsis: Silas and Vanya talk on her name day. The pregnancy is coming to an end soon.

Warnings: Silas, Toxic family, sibling rivalry, mentions of murder, angst, fluff

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@queenbeeta @heavenly1927 @xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff @lol-haha-joke @youbloodymadgenius @didiintheblog

P.S. Anything in cursive is Old Norse. Anything in bold and cursive is a memory.

I don’t own the gifs. Also, thank you for your support. I really appreciate it. If you want to be tagged please write me<3

f there was one thing Vanya hated, then it's definitely seeing Silas walking around looking down at everyone. Or maybe it's just Silas himself; after all, he isn't exactly the most likable person. Stithulf is probably the only one who truly cares for Vanya's cruel brother and not for his title. The blond knight seemed to her like a good influence on her brother. He cared about the people and Silas's survival, which no one else bothered to do up until now. She just hopes that his concern is sincere and not a front he put on to win her trust.

"I was never happier that I didn't have a sister. Just imagining him as our brother in law makes me sick." Sigurd commented, sitting next to her on his bench, tuning his oud as she stitched a pattern on Ubbe's new shirt.

Vanya shrugged at his choice of words and looked down at her stitching. She was so absorbed into her thoughts and watching Silas that she butchered a part of her work. The ginger cursed under her breath and tried fixing it. Her husband's older brother snickered at her adorable rage, but shut up when she glared at him.

"You do have a sister now. And she doesn't like you talking about her brother that way." She snapped angrily as Sigurd raised an eyebrow at her tone.

"Please don't tell me you like him. I get that he is your family, but Silas doesn't seem like a good brother. When was he ever nice to you?" Sigurd asked, thinking back to his own brother. He and Ivar were brothers, but if someone were to treat him the way Silas treats Vanya, he would kill them. Only Sigurd gets to insult Ivar and get away with it. Afterall they are brothers; it would get boring if everybody were nice to each other.

Vanya saw Stithulf leave her brother's side and walk over to the other knights, both Silas and the knight seemed annoyed and sour. "When were you ever nice to Ivar?"

"When he was a babe. Things were easier when he couldn't talk."

"You mean when neither of you talked." Vanya pointed out, walking over to her brother's side, gathering all her courage to talk to him. "Are you alright?"

Silas glared down at his redheaded sibling and walked away from her. He stomped his way past two of his knights who looked at him, terrified. "Get out of my way, you lowlife filth!" He spat at them as they made a path for him.

"I am sorry, I am sure you bathe regularly. Have a nice day!" Vanya apologized in her brother's stead as she heard Sigurd run after her, cursing her sudden getaway.

"Stop following me!" Silas spat at her, turning on his heal. His nostrils flared in rage; the king looked like a bull ready to charge. "What do you want, Vanya?"

"I want to talk. Like civilized people would."

"Do you take me for uncivilized, you worthless bitch?"

She definitely didn't miss these types of conversations with him. Why does she even try? "I don't want to fight. I want to talk to you privately, without it seeming like you will kill me."

Silas huffed at her comment and mentioned for the shore. She sat down on the pier to rest her legs while he stood over her, glaring at the water instead of her. "Talk, or I will leave."

"What did you argue with Stithulf about?" She tried not to sound demanding and timid to soothe his anger a little bit. It would be easier if he were less murderous.

Silas sighed and gave her a letter from his pocket. It held the royal seal of Slegia, which could only mean that their mother sent it. Vanya opened it and read over the writing in astonishment. "Dear King Silas, I wish to inform you that I got married again while you were away. Me and Lord Ceolmund will continue living in the castle. Have a safe journey, and greet Vanya for me. Greetings, Queen Mother Siflæd." It was short and to the point, and an obvious dismissal of Silas's authority as she married without his consent or knowledge.

"She did it to spite me. I forbid her to bring any more lovers to the castle, so she married the one that would anger me the most." He seethed, tearing the letter out of her hands and ripping it into pieces that he threw into the sea. "I want to raise my armies and cut off his head!"

"Maybe she did it out of love. Or she is with child. Whatever the reason, he is our new father now. Murdering him isn't a wise choice." Vanya reasoned, trying to remember if she ever met this Lord Ceolmund.

Silas shook his head and slammed his hand against the post he leaned on. Vanya jumped at the sudden outburst. "Oh, he is as much of father to us as Siflæd was a mother. Ceolmund is rich and young, a perfect victim to her charms. The moment he returns to his senses, she will drop him, pregnant or not."

"If you know that, then why fight with Stithulf? Why plan a murder if the outcome is obvious?" Vanya pressed, trying to decipher her brother's thinking process.

The King spat on the ground in disgust and looked at her stomach. "Because this poses a problem for my marriage."

"Your marriage? You will take a wife?" Vanya questioned, failing to imagine Silas as a husband. He always seemed like the type that wouldn't marry even if his life depended on it.

He leaned into her face and smirked. "I am supposed to marry Lady Eoforhild. She will give me an heir and connect Slegia with Ecbert. Considering that she is his brother's granddaughter, he will support us against threats to keep her safe. But Mother destroyed the plan the moment she married that halfwit."

"How does that destroy your plan? You can still marry her."

"Ceolmund is Eoforhild's father, you dumb cow. The deal was to marry her, as it is the honorable thing to do after I took her maidenhead, leaving her no longer a virgin and unfit to marry anyone. She seduced me at a dance on my name day, that bought dishonor on their family name, so Ecbert offered me her hand in exchange for his armies. They keep their reputation and get some form of power over Slegia, while I get allies and heirs. And that option is now out of question when Mother went behind my back and married my betrothed's father!"

"And now the church won't allow you to marry her anymore." The ginger sighed in defeat, seeing the reason behind his anger. Their mother destroyed a chance of protection and the poor girl's life.

Silas rolled his eyes at that and looked back at Sigurd, who stood behind them, glaring at Silas as if he will beat him with his oud soon. "Mother did it to gain back some sense of control. She has been throwing tantrums since you left; she is humiliating herself and the whole kingdom. She always hated being in the background; that's why she acts out like a child. Just like when Father was alive. That's the truth of it all."

Vanya knew what he was talking about, when Osmond was still alive Siflæd paraded her lovers around to spite him and his lovers. Their relationship was anything but love; they hated each other and fought daily behind closed doors. After his funeral, the vicious cycle was over, and she could do as she pleased. That is till Silas got fed up with her behavior and forbid her to take any more lovers. And now she married his future father in law.

"The truth is always either terrible or boring. Why can't there be a middle ground? Like she married him out of love and not spite."

"She doesn't know love, not to me or anyone else. She is a dark pit of hate and selfishness. Siflæd never held her tongue about me being a monster, but we both know she is no better. The only difference is that I have no problem showing it." He sneered in his rage, stomping off to either brood or plan murder. Whatever it was, Vanya understood his feelings. A perfect opportunity thrown out of the window because Siflæd got something to prove.

"Well, that was eventful," Sigurd commented, helping Vanya up. The ginger flinched in pain, causing the Ragnarsson to panic. "Is it the babe? Is it coming? Please say no, you can't give birth here!"

Vanya rolled her eyes at his hysterics and wrapped her arm around his. "Just a kick. The child is stronger than one would think." Sigurd sighed and helped her walk back to the Great hall to collect her stitching.

"A gift, Princess. A pretty rose for a pretty girl." A woman stopped them, giving the Saxon a flower before walking away.

"Well, that was strange," Vanya muttered, cradling the gift in her hand, smelling the sweet aroma.

Sigurd snorted and pointed at the rose. "Maybe it's an offering. Hvitserk heard some people say you are Freyja or Frigg in disguise."

The pregnant girl gawked at him in shock. How could the people even think of her as a goddess? What about her seemed divine and godlike? "I am not a goddess, Sigurd! I am human, just like the rest of you. I'm not special, who am I to think I am special?."

"Pretty, smart, kind, selfless, lots of patience considering your husband. You are right, nothing special at all. I guess we are all just naive." The sarcasm was strong with that one, and it made her smile. It was nice to be seen, but she would prefer a little less worship. She wasn't a god or anything near Freyja and Frigg. Vanya is and always was a plain mortal born into money. There are thousands of them all over Midgard. "And you should get used to getting gifts. It is your name day today. You are seventeen now, Little bird."

Vanya chuckled and smiled at the passing people. A year ago, she wasn't pregnant, married, or living in Kattegat. Things change so fast it's almost scary. Everything she went through in the last year feels like it happened a decade ago. "Oh I will still complain about getting gifts, I will just limit for Ivar's ear before we go to bed.

"Well, I hope you won't complain about my gift. I think you will like it."

"No promises, Brother." She teased as he snorted, shaking his head.

#ivar the boneless #ivar lothbrok #ivar ragnarsson #ivar x oc #ivar imagine #vikings imagine #vikings #history vikings #original character #original female character

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hwangzi · 4 years

Text

Unexpected: Prologue

Read previous part here Warnings: more swearing lol

The first time he met you was on the rooftop of your school.

"Emotionless b*tch."

He woke up from his nap in his favourite spot behind the wall and thought he had heard wrong. Is someone else here? Which little fucker intruded his sacred spot for napping and skipping classes?

The voice from before hissed again and someone laughed,

"Does she even know what an honour it is to receive a confession by the Lee Minho? And she just rejected him? What a pretentious little-"

He rolled his eyes, another one of those fake *ssholes, he thought. All he wanted was his peace and quiet and now he got disrupted by some snakes spewing gossip. Time to get outta here...

He got up, pulled the hood of his sweater over his head and made his way around the cubicle, attempting to discreetly slip out from the door behind them - when he spotted a girl blocking the doorframe, her head hanging low.

Great.

Not knowing what to do or where to go, he decided to hide around the corner and wait.

"I know right? She thinks she's so high and mighty, when all she is is just an antisocial ice princess. She’s pretty, but soo boring."

The girl in the doorframe flinched, as if someone slapped her. Anybody could put one and one together - the person those girls were talking about was her.

"Yea", the other agreed, "Never hung out with us after school. Doesn't even drink or party... what’s wrong with her?"

"I know... hey, are we allowed to be up here?"

"Nah, but I needed a place for a smoke away from those nosy-*ss teachers."

"Okay. Now let's go." The girl behind them perked up, he could see the panic in her eyes, like a deer in the headlights.

He didn't know what came over him - the next thing he knew was that he stood right in front of the two girls, leaning onto the railing.

"Hey there."

The two of them jumped in surprise, then frowned in annoyance.

"What the f-”

“Sorry to break it to you, but you’re kinda invading my personal territory here so could you please get lost.”

"Why should I care?", the other girl scoffed and threw her cigarette butt right in front of his shoes.

"Because" he chuckled and took off the hood of his sweater slowly, both of them gasped in surprise upon recognising him,

“You-!”

He chuckled and approached them, demonstratively stepping onto the cigarette end,

"Thanks to you guys' lively dialogue I've heard some very interesting information. And also," he leaned in, noticing the girls' eyes widen, "if your parents knew you smoked regularly, how delighted would they be?"

"I..I- shit-" the one who smoked cursed under her breath, her friend was already pulling her away,

"Living up to your title as the school's biggest asshole, I see? C'mon, let's go."

And with that they vanished inside the building. That’s right, run from the big bad wolf. Content, he smiled to himself and put his hood back on as it got kinda windy on the rooftop. That’s when identified a small figure peeking out from around the corner. He sighed in relief.

"Thank you... You really saved me there", she approached him, her voice was weak and quiet when she spoke. The red rims around her eyes didn’t remain unnoticed when he looked at her. How could anyone so look so... vulnerable and small?

"It's nothing. What are you doing here anyway?"

"I- I could ask you the same thing." She replied, scanning the empty place.

"Oh I'm here often, I'm not really into this whole... school thing." He frowned and she giggled - which was almost contagious to the point he had to suppress a smile.

“So.. what brought you here?”

“I followed them because I thought we could eat lunch together-”

“Them? Those gossiping bitches?”

“They are-” she paused for a second to correct herself “...were my friends.”

Something about the way her voice cracked towards the end almost made him feel sorry for her. But why on earth should he be? She was just another one of those 376 students at this school that he barely knew.

Scrap that, all he wanted was to give her a hug right now.

“Look, uh...” he paused awkwardly, realising he didn't even know her name,

“Y/N. I’m y/n.” she chuckled and he continued,

“Look, y/n - I don’t know what went down between you, but no one deserves to be trash-talked like this. Maybe it’s better to avoid these types from now on.”

“I guess I've learned my lesson this time...” she wiped her face as she spoke, removing a tear that had previously rolled down her cheek.

“Also, you're better off without them anyway. I mean who cares about your private life, right? People post all kinds of shit on socials all the time so their gossip is kinda redundant."

A genuine laughter erupted in her chest and it struck him that this was the most pleasant sound he’s ever heard. Damn, she looks good when she smiles...

In the very second that thought crossed his mind, he knew something was different - that unfamiliar emotion caused him to suddenly turn around on his heels and mutter a quick "S-see ya" before taking rushed steps towards the exit.

"Wait! I don't even know your name yet! And I couldn't see your face properly because of your hoodie...”, he heard her call after him.

Yea, let's keep it that way, he thought, suddenly uncomfortable about being recognised by her. He didn't give a shit about his image, so why does he now? What makes her so different and why does she affect him like this?

Confused by his own reactions, he decided to act like he hasn't heard her and walked straight out of the door without another word.

---

After that incident, he kept seeing you everywhere.

In the halls, although now you were mostly on your own or with that best friend of yours. In history class, where you sat all the way up front so he could stare holes into your back until the lesson ended. During lunchtime, waiting in line to get food. In the school’s library, studying until past midnight every evening, all by yourself.

It was the latter where he met you most frequently, especially since the teachers got fed up with assigning extra homework for his misbehaviour and just sent him to the janitor to do his work instead.

If he was being honest, he started looking forward to this part of the day, only to see you in your half-asleep state, with your hair up in a messy bun, sitting on the very table he just wiped a few moments ago.

He wasn't the type to secretly trail behind a girl - he had dated before, but he's always been the straightforward kind - and he couldn't recognise himself whenever he lingered in your perimeter. Something inside him hesitated to confront you, much unlike his usual self, he felt strangely nervous, almost embarrassed to talk to you. Taking a liking to a stranger in the library wasn’t something he’d planned on in his high school years - it was unexpected, to say the least.

It took him another month or so to finally make up his mind to talk to you, in person this time.

It was also during that period when some nasty rumours began to spread about you - how you're nothing but a pretty face, how you despised socialising and practiced celibacy. The nickname ice princess also became an established term mentioned contextually with your name.

Despite all that, he still found you studying in the middle of the night, looking just as tired but no less fabulous as you did before (in his opinion, at least).

It struck him right then that he was in love with you.

So on one night, when he found you at your usual spot at the table, he decided that this is an all or nothing case.

Your hair, cascading down your back, not being tied up as it normally was, reflected the dim light of the desk lamp. He slowly approached your concentrated form - you didn't seem to notice him, your brows were furrowed as you kept focusing on your book.

He'll never get tired of how beautiful you are.

Unsure on how to start the conversation, he snaps out of his daze when one glance over your shoulder revealed the title of the novel you were reading. He smiled to himself.

Here we go.

Unexpected pt. 1

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astraseason · 4 years

Text

food, clothing, & religion preferences -- as suggested by @valorwilled!

once again under a cut for length!

food.

araceli has a massive sweet tooth-- in part because she just naturally loves sugar and sweet things, but there is admittedly more to it than that.

growing up in the northern fortress, araceli was not allowed many sweets-- in fact, much of what she was allowed to be given to eat was very limited and there would be times garon demanded she be starved entirely for acting out or wanting to return to hoshido. many of her meals early on amounted to table scraps, and it wasn’t until gunter took matters into his own hands that the situation improved.

this changed when araceli’s combat training began, but her meals were still decided for her and geared towards nutritional value rather than enjoyment. she was being fed regularly, yes, but with a goal in mind-- a malnourished soldier isn’t a very effective one, after all.

when xander, camilla, leo, or elise would visit, however, things would be different. the princes and princesses of nohr often called for tea and cakes and all sorts of delicious treats to be brought up to them while they spent time with their adoptive sister, allowing her some comforts and joy whilst they were in the northern fortress with her.

the one thing that ended up being allowed when the nohrians weren’t present was tea, and given araceli does not like coffee, jakob instead experiments with different blends for her-- the one he is proudest of is a peach blend, likely because it is the princess’ favourite.

as an adult araceli can eat whatever she likes, especially now that she has been released from her prison. she has a tendency to eat alone in her treehouse away from the others in later cycles, and there are times she has to be reminded or forced to do so; her appetite fluctuates. she will often indulge in sweets as a form of stress relief. while she also drinks to do the same, it has not become a problem. ( ...yet. if not kept an eye on, it very well could. )

she prefers nohrian wines to sake, but has a weakness for hoshidan sweets made with red bean paste... actually, she really likes hoshidan food in general and has gotten very good at handling chopsticks; to the point where she forgets that pre-choice, she’s not supposed to have used them or have followed hoshidan table etiquette for fifteen years whilst she’s visiting.

fashion.

much of araceli’s fashion preferences stem from elise and camilla-- the princesses would often dress araceli up when they visited, and she found she liked the way the clothes they picked out looked on her. however, she simplifies the outfits as her sisters have a tendency to dress her in extraordinarily cutesy fashions and she wants to look her age-- the dream is elegant and ladylike, but she doesn’t think she pulls it off very well.

in casual wear, araceli can often be seen in a full, high waisted circle skirt or dress with many petticoats and a ribbon at the back, a blouse, and a cravat. she wears full tights as opposed to ones with thigh windows, and most importantly of all wears boots outside of battle.

while she likes her fashion choices there’s also a very real reason the princess dresses so simply and conservatively: she doesn’t like exposing her body in public, not wanting people to see childhood scars and ask about them.

in hoshido, she very quickly adapts to wearing kimonos again and likes them quite a bit; they’re stiff and rigid, but they cover her and they’re gorgeous. while it’s difficult to put one on alone, araceli has made a point to learn as much as she can by herself to avoid having to let others touch her too much. she wears her hair properly tied back in a bun whilst wearing one, as opposed to her usual pigtails.

she also wears opaque leggings under the thigh window tights provided to her with her sets of armour, given garon is the one who sent the armour and she is very uncomfortable with the thought that the man is forcing her to not only run around in a long sleeved leotard but expose that much skin. it’s a very quiet ‘screw you’ and the one form of rebellion she can get away with.

as a nohr noble, she will refuse to wear the female variant, finding it uncomfortable and exposing and goes for the male version. she’ll wear female hoshido noble, but still wears the tights under it. now that the valla noble cipher cards have been released and the female variant looks more like nohr noble f, she wears the male version of that too i guess!

no matter what she’s wearing, the two constants are her eyepatch and butterfly hairpin. she may forego the eyepatch in private with a significant other, but only if she absolutely feels comfortable around them and like they won’t be grossed out by the glass eye and scarring.

religion.

araceli is not religious in the slightest! she does not worship the dawn or dusk dragons, nor any other gods izumo might worship, and actually holds the tiniest bit of contempt for them-- the dawn dragon didn’t protect her when her life was turned upside down, nor did the dusk dragon make her ordeal in nohr bearable. in addition, the people of nohr suffer constant famines and resources are hard to come by, so it’s not like the dusk dragon is doing their job and protecting those who worship them anyways.

the gods have abandoned her, she believes-- why else would she have endured three hundred years in an exercise of futility? therefore, she does not need the gods.

this also applies to araceli’s fodlan verse, as when those who slither took her underground for experimentation, she often begged and pleaded and prayed for the goddess to either save her or kill her to end the torment already. sothis, never did, of course, as she was busy being dormant inside of byleth.

seeing how the church of seiros operates on top of her own personal ordeal -- sending children to rout bandits and witness a noble’s execution as a warning that this will be them if they step out of line, to name a few things -- and just how utterly messed up the crest system is only cements her belief that there is no longer any need for gods.

regardless of fateslandia, fodlan, or anywhere else, she will not berate or judge anyone who is religious. if religion helps them through their lives, so be it. it’s just not for her.

#✽ ― 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐫﹐𝐩𝐞𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐫﹐𝐩𝐞𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐫. ﹙ooc.﹚#✽ ― 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬. ﹙araceli | headcanon.﹚#long post //#absolute unit hc #here u go nox

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scripttorture · 5 years

Note

Hi, lovely to send an ask to your blog. I have a character who's been kidnapped and kept in a cell for an unspecified amount of time. The cell is the size of a spacious room, with a mattress, sink, and toilet, the victim has access to move about as he pleases. The abductor kept my victim well fed, didn't physically harm him unless he had to (ie. Victim tries to escape, attack, bite back with words), he wanted him in good shape. (A)

(B)Whenever my victim acted up, other than sometimes having tophysically restrain him (roughs him up in a corner and leaves), hepunishes him by turning the electricity off, leaving the victim inpitch darkness and icy weather, and with no sound source but his ownbreath. Regularly, the abductor comes at least once everyday (or asoften as five days a week), sits with the victim for a few hours, andeither talks about his life, tries (and fails, at the time) to softenvictim's heart...(E),...left him food and left. Either until he got bored, or when victimcracked and broke down begging for any stimulation and company. Themental breakdowns increased in intensity when the victim lost accessto the TV, he'd unconsciously hurt himself, cry and scream until hepassed out, refuse to eat or move from his spot in fear of themonsters lurking in the pitch blackness in the room, and will justsit stuck listening to his violent hallucinations until the abductorput mercy on him.(F)At the end of the abduction time, Victim starts to show new symptoms,he rather becomes"animalistic" in someway, he loses(forgets temporarily) the ability to put words together, so hesnarls, whimpers, acts physically his needs, becomes very aggressiveand uncooperative, lost a drastic amount of weight, refusing food,tried on multiple occasions to hurt himself for the sake of feelinganything but the emptiness of his cell, and in a psychotic outburst,destroys the TV, and...(G)(oh man I forgot where I left off... please bear with me if I mistookthe paging) He spent the next few days mourning the TV, missing thecharacters he used to obsessed over as much as the family he slowlystarted to lose memories of. It was a pitiful sight. Since thebeginning of the abduction period, the abductor has been feedingVictim lies, from the reason he kidnapped him (preserve his amazingabilities, keep him safe from others who were after his skills, noone appreciated his...(H)His skills as much as he did, and it was obvious b***) but the damagecame when he gradually convinced him his family didn't care, that'swhy he was trapped for so long. And victim was convinced his familyloved him above all else, but as time passed and hallucinationsbegan, he lost that conviction, not at all helped by abductor'sconstant false reassurance. Abductor also lied about the time frame,coming down with cake to celebrate their one year anniversary whenit's been a few months. (I) Little did victim know, his family werekilled the night of his kidnapping. Finally, at the last day, or afew days after he lost the TV, abductor has moved the broken pieces,only to miss one screen glass shard that victim hid under hismattress. And it happened as victim tried to stab his abductor, inself defense, the abductor threw the victim off, and his head hit thesink. Cue panic stricken abductor, not thinking straight with theamount of blood, and wrapping the victim up...(J)... wrapping him up and throwing him in an alley across the citybefore fleeing the country. Now my biggest dilemma lies in twothings! One: I need him to have amnesia for plot related reasons,very important, but I'm afraid that will make all of what he wentthrough redundant, so the list of after effects I made him have is..Severe anxiety, depression, anger management issues, avoidance ofdark places (full blown panic attacks if forced into an sort of darkroom)… K) Vague, abstract night terrors, extreme loneliness even inthe company of friends, and fear of neglect. He has a few namelesstriggers, any show on TV like the shows he used to watch, not feelingclean, showering more than once a day as he lost that privilegehaving to use the sink to clean up, horror movies for all thereasons. Two: how does the state (any) and hospital actually dealwith this situation, I realize this is out of your expertisepossibly, but I'd appreciate a nudge… (M) A new cycle of abusebegins between him and his boss, manager and unit mates, but I'llleave that for another ask ^^; This got so long, I'm sorry, but I'dlike your criticism and input on my story so far, it actually takesup two other victims of abuse and my MCs road to recovery. I'm veryadamant on making this right. Thank you!!

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This is a follow up to a previous ask. Honestly- I’m still finding the question a little confusing. I’ll answer to the best of my ability but I may well have misinterpreted it.

That said- I think you need to do a lot of reading and completely rewrite your story if you really do want to make this realistic and respectful. At the moment I think it’s a very long way off.

I think I said that last time so this time I’m going to be blunt. I do not think you are ready to write torture.

Firstly, specify the amount of time this character is held. Decide. Don’t keep things vague in the hope that it’ll seem more realistic.

You don’t have to tell your readers the detail of how long your character is held or every detail of what happens to him but if you don’t know then you can’t work to show the effects realistically.

I can’t decide what your plot should be for you. And if you’re unwilling to define what you’re putting your character through and for how long I can’t give a reasonable estimate of how likely he is to survive.

Memory loss in torture scenarios does not work in the way you’re describing. That kind of ‘amnesia’ and losing old, established memories of family members does not happen. Not without significant, disabling brain injury that effects other things like being able to move and breath.

If you want to know what memory loss in torture survivors is like I have a post here that covers it.

Torture survivors do not regress into some sort of savage ‘animalistic’ state. They do not forget how to speak.

Frankly I think these kinds of unrealistic tropes are incredibly insulting to survivors.

It’s saying that torture has ‘made’ the survivor dangerous and unreasonable. Those are exactly the kinds of arguments people use to stop survivors getting treatment in real life. Don’t add to that.

Hallucinations in solitary are not common.

They become more likely if a person is held for a long time (over a month), but since you are not giving me a time frame I can’t say whether this is likely or not.

If the character is held long enough that hallucinations and a psychotic break become likely then- given the conditions you’ve described, the character is likely to die from cold, starvation or disease before the captor dumps them outside.

People can die from the cold very very quickly. If the character is repeatedly subjected to freezing temperatures for a long time then they are probably going to die of hypothermia.

Additionally the phrasing throughout this sounds as though it’s taking the abuser’s ‘side’ over the victim’s.

No one ever ‘has’ to abuse anyone else. It is never necessary.

On a related note- I think you’re severely underestimating the damage caused by beating. It is very easy to beat a person to death. The way I’m interpreting the question it sounds like the abuser beats the victim when he tries to escape. It sounds like the abuser beats the victim until he stops moving every time this happens.

There isn’t much difference between beating someone unconscious and beating them to death. If the character is regularly being hit until he passes out then he probably wouldn’t live for more then two weeks.

Which is not long enough for the extreme effects of solitary confinement you’re describing.

I think this scenario is a very strange mix of treating people as too resilient and too fragile. The physical abuses you’re describing seem really like to kill the character. At the same time the mental health issues you’re describing are completely unrealistic and-

Well honestly? As a mentally ill person I think this depiction of mental illness is insulting. It is degrading. It shows no understanding of mental illness and no compassion for people who are mentally ill.

I struggle to speak sometimes because of my mental illness. It does not make me an animal. It does not mean I can not think. And it certainly doesn’t mean I can’t describe what I was going through when that moment has passed.

The list of ‘severe’ symptoms you’ve given isn’t what you’re actually describing the character having. Your description does not sound like mood swings, anxiety and depression with a few triggers.

If you were writing these symptoms accurately I would tell you that your list is not enough. If I was just relying on that list I would suggest more symptoms and writing them to a greater severity.

But I can’t just rely on the list. Because your description of the character’s mental state and what he goes through contradicts your list. Which suggests to me that you either haven’t decided what symptoms the character should have or you don’t understand what mental health problems are like.

I do not think you are ready to write mental illness.

I could go into more detail. But I don’t think it’s going to benefit either of us if I go through this and tell you why every single detail here is wrong.

My job here is not to write your story for you. And it isn’t to make moral decisions for you either.

If you are serious about writing torture or abuse respectfully then for now you need to stop writing. Instead I need you to do some reading. Because if you want to do this ‘right’ then you need to gain an understanding of what torture is, what it does to people and how they cope with it afterwards.

So I’m going to give you a reading list. I think you should read each of these books carefully.

Why Torture Doesn’t Work by S O’Mara

The Question by H Alleg (if English isn’t your first languages this is available in other languages, pick the one you’re most comfortable with)

A Darkling Plain by K R Monroe

A Sourcebook on Solitary Confinement by S Shalev

To the Kwai and Back by R Searle

I think you should also read Black Jacobins by C L R James.

Take your time. Make notes.

When you’ve done that I think you should go to Amnesty International’s website and look at their recent interviews with torture survivors. Pick two or three large studies. Read detailed accounts from at least fifteen different people.

Then I think you should come back to the story and completely rewrite it based on what you’ve learnt.

I am not saying that you should never write torture. But it’s obvious from the plot and characters you’ve proposed that you don’t know enough to write it well yet. Take the time to gain that understanding before you write. You will write a better story for it.

If you don’t want to do the research don’t write about torture.

It’s a difficult topic to engage with. If you try and fail then that isn’t your fault. Reading about torture is upsetting. Not every one can deal with it in depth. That isn’t anyone’s fault or failing.

But if you can’t cope with reading about the reality, if you can’t educate yourself, then you can’t speak on behalf of torture survivors.

If you can’t listen to them then you simply don’t know enough to tell their stories.

Availableon Wordpress.

Disclaimer

#Anonymous #tw torture #tw ableism #tw self harm #writing victims #writing torture #torture apologia #mental health #I can only help if you're willing to engage #and willing to do the work

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dear-bangtans · 6 years

Text

Feel Your Pain 【jjk】

↳ pairing: Jungkook X reader | fluff, smut, angst

↳ au: soulmate! Au

↳ warnings: death, an almost self-inflicted death, smut (degradation, dirty talk, praise kink, daddy kink, oral [f receiving], multiple orgasms, overstimulation, un-protected sex.)

↳ word count: 4,792

When you were young, your fragile and thin skin would always be littered with injuries in some way, shape or form. Over half of these injuries weren’t self-inflicted, they were brought upon you by your very own soulmate.

You were three years old when your parents found odd bruises scattered around your little legs, ones they knew that you did not bring upon yourself. You didn’t understand at such a young age, but your mother stared at the bruises with her shaking hands covering her mouth, and your father was sporting a huge grin on his face. It was the happiest they had looked in a long time, you had realised with a tilted head.

As the days went on and the years flew by, you became more physically exhausted. You found yourself drained of energy more often, opting to lay on the ground and rest your poor body for a while, instead of running and playing in the playground with your fellow classmates and friends. Because of this, you often got called lazy and a ‘spoil sport’, as your classmates would say when they were young. You never took these words to heart, knowing full well by then that the cause of your exhaustion was because of your soulmate, and not yourself. You never expressed your thoughts or worries or delights about how you were feeling because of your soulmate with your mother, only with your father. It wasn’t that you weren’t close with your mother or that she didn’t care, but because you knew it would upset her.

She didn’t like the soulmate system.

Your father and you grew closer because of this. Often, you would both lie in your backyard on a blanket, watching the stars in the night sky above you illuminate things for miles upon miles. The stars really were a beautiful sight to behold.

Your father would leave for work in the mornings before you woke up, so you would wait until he picked you up from school to tell him all of the events of your day and how you were holding up, expressing your thoughts and concerns about your secret soulmate, shaking in anticipation throughout the school days. Your father would join in too, sometimes, making up theories about your soulmate, regularly describing how he should treat you – “like a queen”, he says – and what he could possibly be like. He never found out, though, because by the time fate had decided to stop messing around with both you and your soulmate and you had met, he was already gone. A mysterious disappearance, they say.

You didn’t believe them one bit.

Anyway, by the time you were thirteen you had developed a hobby of singing, along with writing on the side lines. You looked up to many people as artists in the music industry, and wanted one day to become like them, too.

“Momma, I want to be like them one day,” your six year old self says in admiration, eyes sparkling with hope at your dream, whilst pointing at a poster of a popular group worldwide. Your mother’s eyes follow your outstretched arm to the poster and smiles as she sees it.

“Do you, darling? You have to work very hard for it,” she informs your younger self, still smiling as she crouches down to your height. You nod profusely, staring into her eyes and saying,

“I’ll do whatever it takes, momma. I want to make you proud.”

At an older age, you realised how unstable your dreams to become a famous idol actually were and how much you would have to work for them, just like your mother had said. It drained a lot of your remaining energy, however you continued going in your stubborn as ever refusal to give up and your passion for what you were doing. You became a trainee at JYP entertainment at the age of eight. The company treated you well and with a lot of respect throughout your time there, and soon you were picked to debut with four other girls, all very welcoming and older than you. At sixteen, your group had debuted and became a global success after people realised how talented and hard-working you all were. Your constant state of exhaustion was always there, but never held you back as you never let it.

You and your destined soulmate were both too stubborn for your own good. Making music and touring the world made you a very busy person, not having time to do much else other than practice endlessly.

“Seriously, y/n, stop. Go back to the dorms and rest for once,” your eldest group member scolded you, like a repeat of the days before.

Rolling your eyes, you wave your hand at her in dismissal. “Sora, trust me, I’m fine. I’ll rest in a bit, I just need to go over these few moves in the new dance.” When her strong and fierce gaze never stopped burning holes into you, you sighed, “It’s no big deal, I promise.”

“You shouldn’t be so addicted to practicing, y/n. It’s ruining you.”

And then she left, but not without casting yet another worried glace over her shoulder at you, watching as you nodded solemnly and got back into your practice stance.

Jungkook stumbled on the last few moves, almost tripping over his own two feet in his sudden state of drowsiness, his head spinning. It didn’t go unnoticed by his hyungs, who looked at each other frantically, with their eyes screaming in worry. Jungkook’s vision was getting blurry, making it easier to lose balance and fall to the studio’s floor that laid beneath him. Everything went black, and his ears rang, almost drowning out the voices around him completely.

“Jungkook!” Jimin screamed, bolting towards his best friend from the other side of the room, trying to catch his body in his arms, but it was too late. His slumped and exhausted body had already hit the floor.

The next time Jungkook’s eyes fluttered open, he was blinded by a bright white, making him groan and cover his eyes with his left arm. He was in the hospital, he realised. But why?

“As if it didn’t take long enough for you to wake up, you idiot,” was the first thing he heard. Still, he couldn’t hear properly, even after being knocked out cold for an entire day. His mind couldn’t pinpoint the person who had just spoken to him’s voice, as it sounded like the person was being muffled by water. Like they were drowning, kind of. Wincing, Jungkook opened his eyes once again, and could now hear almost perfectly clear. “- you scared us all so much, Jungkook-ah!”. Taehyung took a deep breath from the uncomfortable chair by the younger boy’s hospital bed, calming himself down to speak again. “I want answers.” Taehyung demands.

“To be honest, I don’t really have any, Tae,” Jungkook replies, touching his hair like he always does when he’s confused or nervous. The older boy looks at Jungkook cautiously, head tilted slightly to the side and eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean? You don’t know why you fainted all of a sudden?”

Jungkook shakes his head. “No clue.”.

“And you haven’t been over-working yourself again, right?”

“Right.”. Taehyung thought over it for a few moments, before his eyes widened, almost bulging out of his head. He leans forward, closer to Jungkook’s bed and whispers, “What if it’s your soulmate?”

At this, Jungkook’s eyes go equally as wide as his friends, a certain glint in his eye that caught Taehyung off guard. Jungkook absent-mindedly bites on his lower lip as he thinks about it. It would make sense, wouldn’t it? It would explain why he was always drained of energy.

Jungkook thought about his soulmate a lot. He never mentioned it to anyone, of course, but the thought of her would always be in his mind somewhere. He constantly felt someone’s presence with him his whole life, until he turned six and his mother explained the soulmate system to him, and then he realised why; it was because he was almost sharing a body with someone else, in the way that his body would be affected by the aftermath of both him and his soulmate’s doings, but because also because he knew that soulmates were destined to be together. They were written in the stars. He thinks about the pain that his soulmate has had to deal with because of him, too, sometimes, and he hopes they aren’t too mad. He tells himself to stop being so silly, though. It’s not like he can help it. If he could, he knows that he would stop doing whatever hurt them for good. The only thing he wants is for them to be safe and out of harm’s way. Snapping himself back to reality, Jungkook shakes his head softly. “No, maybe I’m just tired, Tae.” He nods then, more firmly, not sure whether it’s to convince Taehyung or himself, “yeah, I’m just tired. No worries.” Jungkook worries for you, then.

You’re getting so fed up with this whole soulmate ordeal by now. It’s just another, normal day of your life, but having to drag your body along and ignoring it’s pleads for you to stop and rest is so tiring. There’s no way that you can just stop, though; you’re an idol, and a hard-working one at that. This Is your job and you cannot afford to start slacking now. This has been your dream – it is your dream – so you refuse to stop now.

Your manager knows everything about your situation, and she’s kind enough to stop you and ask if you’re feeling okay enough to start your group’s first world tour. Of course, you smile at her the best you can and reply with a ‘yeah I’m fine, good to go.’ She eyes you sceptically, but nods and carries the conversation on with you as she normally would when you start talking to her about how excited you are for the world tour. Thinking about your fans all around the world being able to see you, their idol, in person gets you all giddy, your head almost spinning as your smile increases in size until your cheeks hurt from smiling too hard.

You will have to work extra hard now. You don’t want to let your fans down.

“Christ,” Jungkook stops and swears under his breath, tears welling up in his eyes from the excruciating pain in his ankle, falling to the floor in agony. He groans aloud, clearly frustrated, as he passes a hand through his hair, pulling on it a little in annoyance. “Stop,” he whimpers, hugging his knees close to his chest as he rests his head on them. “Please.”

But you can’t hear him as he continues to wail for you to stop from the corner of his dorm room, and so you carry on, no matter how badly you want to stop yourself.

The boys start increasingly worrying about Jungkook now. By now, he’s almost screaming ; both in pain and from telling you to stop, even though he knows that you can’t hear him. God, he wishes you could. Maybe then you would stop.

Jimin is biting his nails in the living room, wincing noticeably every time he hears Jungkook get progressively more and more agitated as his soulmate won’t stop.

What the hell are they doing that’s hurting themselves so badly, Jimin asks himself. Meanwhile, Taehyung is starting to think that Jungkook’s soulmate is quite selfish to be putting themselves through this amount of pain, because he knows that they know they’re not the only one that is feeling the pain they are causing.

Taehyung is getting increasingly agitated as time goes by now, too. It’s been hours since Jungkook has first started wailing for you to stop, and he hasn’t seemed to stop for a single second. Taehyung jumps up from the couch, storming with loud and heavy footsteps over to the coat hanger where he grabs his coat, flings it on and walks outside. Taking in a deep breath, he clears himself of any thoughts and starts walking.

“Jin,” Jimin breathes out when he sees his oldest group member retreat from Jungkook’s room, looking dreadful as ever. “How is he?”

Jin looks up from staring at the floor, and looks at Jimin with a blank look. Jungkook lets out a blood-curling scream once again, then drowns it out with his cries again. “I don’t know, Jimin, how does he fucking seem to you,” he seethes, then turns his back on the younger boy without another word.

Jimin’s heart drops then.

He just wants it all to stop, and everyone knows he’s not the only one.

“Where is she?” Somi yells, tears threatening to fall down her face. As a leader and as a best friend, she wanted to look out for you, but how could she when she couldn’t even find you? She knew that you were practicing again – when are you never? It’s all getting too out of hand now, though.

“We don’t know, Somi. I’m sorry. We’ve looked almost everywhere by now…” Minsoo says, her voice breaking.

Somi immediately pulls her friend and fellow group member into a hug and rubs her back reassuringly. “We’ll find her, I’m sure. We have to.”

“B-but it’s been hours, Somi! Who knows what she could have done to herself by now.. What if we’re too late?” Mina whispers, voicing her doubts as she cried freely.

Sucking in a sharp breath, Somi lets go of Minsoo after making sure that she’s alright, and stands straight. “It’s going to be alright, girls. We’re going to find her and make sure that she can never do this again, alright? Now let’s go. We still have a few more places we need to check.”

Hyejin was the one who found you, in the end. She found you on the floor, trails and small pools of blood around the room, and then your body unconscious in the middle of the room, curled into a ball with tear stains dried up on your cheeks. Hyejin called an ambulance immediately after finding you, and whilst you were still knocked out in the hospital bed, all bandaged up and on the road to recovery, she called Somi and informed her of where you both were. With Somi and the rest of your group members on the way, Hyejin took your hand into hers, tracing soothing circles on your palms and closing her eyes.

As much as she tried to get rid of it, the picture of the room in the state she found you in itched and burned inside of her mind. The pools of your own blood on the floor, you curled up into a ball, you unconscious and barely breathing. Your pain. Shaking her head with a sigh, she let her head fall against the back of the uncomfortable hospital chair as she drifted to sleep.

“What the fuck were you thinking, y/n? You almost danced yourself to fucking death!” your manager exclaims, throwing her hands in the air.

“I wasn’t thinking, okay? Are you happy now? I know that it was irresponsible and I apologise on my part for that, I truly do, but can you just stop? It’s getting over-whelming, having people screaming all of my stupid decisions at me all of the fucking time!” you respond, raising your voice and then lowering it again, apologising. You rub your temples softly as you feel a headache approaching.

Your manager, Soobin, sighs as she engulfs you into a hug, holding onto you tightly as you let a single tear fall. “I just want you to be safe, that’s all,” she whispers in your ear.

You choke back a sob. “I know. I am so sorry.”

Before you and your group started your world tour, you had to attend an awards show. You were nominated for two awards: new artist of the year (female group) and the world rookie award. You also had a live performance there, where you would perform one of your new songs “breathe.” There were also another few performances, but the only other group you can remember that is performing was BTS.

Once again, you got into the routine of practicing for the performance, however you always had another member to stay with you and made sure you don’t get too far ahead of yourself whenever you decided you needed or wanted to practice some more. It helped a bit, though. You were starting to get some self-control over practicing again.

Your time backstage at the award show, just before your performance was spent with the rest of your members, going over anything that needed a few light, last minute tweaks or improvements. You were all especially nervous for this performance, as it was your first time at an award show that you were nominated or something in, and you had just found out that you had won not just the one, but the both of the awards that you were nominated for and now you definitely did not want to mess up on stage and let your fans down. Luckily, you and your members were great in your performance and did not mess up once or let your fans down. At the end of your performance, as you were leaving the stage, however, you tripped and fell, resulting in you scraping your leg on the edge of the stage, giving you a huge, definitely noticeable cut all the way up your left thigh, leaving a trail of your red blood in its wake.

Jungkook hissed from the crowd, clenching his teeth together in silent pain. Dammit, soulmate, he thought. Now really isn’t the time.

Jungkook’s hiss was mostly drowned out by the deafening cheers of the crowd, however Jimin and Jin, who stood right next to the youngest of the group, had heard his hiss and looked at him questioningly.

“Soulmate,” his response was, looking straight ahead as he sat down. The older men followed his actions and sat down next to him.

Jin sighed, “What did she do now?”

“Cut her leg, I think. I don’t really know, but it stings like a bitch.”

Jimin nodded his head, motioning backstage. “Come on, let’s check it out.”

The three men made their way backstage after Jin informed Namjoon of where they were going and why, and Jin sat Jungkook down as he inspected his leg. “Ouch,” he winced lightly, looking at the cut. “You’ll have to clean it, but it looks relatively good. Might leave a small scar where it’s deepest, but I’m not one hundred percent sure.”. Jimin laughs softly from next to where Jungkook was sat, shaking his head with a small smile on his face.

“How is that girl so clumsy, is what I want to know,” Jungkook mused. Jin and Jimin laughed.

Namjoon walked over to where Jin, Jimin and Jungkook sat on the sofa backstage and smiled tightly at the youngest member. “You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, just a cut. We’ll be fine.”

“Good.” Silence filled the air for a minute, before the leader pulls out his phone and unlocks it, showing it to Jungkook without warning. Jungkook looks at the picture and freezes in his spot. Jin and Jimin do the same. The youngest looks up at his leader and best friend, a certain glint that only appears when his soulmate is mentioned. “Y-you mean…?”

“Yes,” Namjoon nods, smiling at how genuinely happy his friend looks, for the first time in a while. “y/n is your soulmate.”

You looked up to BTS as a group and the member as individuals, both in the music industry way and in how they were such genuinely kind, warm-hearted and down to earth people. They were your idols. When you said you wished you could meet them, you didn’t mean like this. Not after tripping when coming off stage and accidentally cutting your thigh, then finding out that Jeon Jungkook, of all people, has the exact same cut as you in the exact same place.

You and Jungkook were soulmates.

Somi and Mina helped you walk to the room where you were meeting your supposed soulmate, and then left with Namjoon and Seokjin to leave you both alone. After entering the room and closing the door behind you, you looked around the room, spotting Jungkook straight in front of you, sat on the couch and staring at you with his big, bright, doe eyes. “Uh, hi,” you awkwardly said, standing frozen in your place.

“Hi, soulmate,” he replied after a moment, his blank face morphing into his signature cheeky, bunny like smile. “You don’t have to be so shy, you know?” he giggles.

The more time you spent with Jungkook, the more comfortable you became. After your first encounter, you and Jungkook spoke for hours upon hours about anything and everything, until you couldn’t think of anything else to talk about. You met up weekly at a different coffee shop each time. You liked being in Jungkook’s warm company, you figured. Jungkook had teased you about being soulmates countless times, but as you started to spend more time with each other, he suddenly stopped and became serious with you about it. You spoke to each other about your soulmate situation for a while, and decided that, after a few weeks, it was time to make things official. Of course, things like this don’t stay a secret from the paparazzi for long, and as soon as you started dating, and even before, thousands of articles about the both of you had suddenly been thrown into the world, leaving the both of you laughing when some fans tried to come up with theories on why you were with each other when they claimed to be your ‘actual’ soulmate.

“Y/n?” Jungkook asked quietly, fiddling with the promise ring on your finger as a new nervous tic of his.

“Yeah?” you questioned, cuddling into his chest and sighing in content at his bodies warmth.

“That one day – why were you over working yourself so hard?”

Your body stilled against his in an instant. Jungkook’s heart was beating so rapidly under his chest where your head was lifted a little that he was afraid you would be able to hear it beating, on edge at your reaction.

You were searching for the words to say for a while, before sighing and answering, “I don’t like making mistakes. I’m a perfectionist when it comes to myself and what I do, and I don’t want to let the fans down either. I just- I’ve been addicted to practicing for years, Jungkook. I don’t have any self-control when it comes to practicing, I don’t.” You were silent for a moment, before finishing, “I’ve been better in the recent months, though. Because of you, mostly. You’ve helped me improve who I am, so thank you. You take care of me well.” At this, your boyfriend and soulmate beams at you, knocking the breath out of you as you’re lost in how beautiful he looks in that moment. You lift your head from Jungkook’s chest, then, and lean closer to him until you can feel your harboured breaths mixing with each other, before Jungkook leans in and presses his lips to yours passionately, igniting fires inside of you that you never knew were possible.

Jungkook was relentless as the kiss became more heated, his lips biting down onto your bottom lip softly as you let out a breathy moan, suddenly aware of your aching core. Jungkook started trailing down to your neck, placing sweet kisses there a few times before softly sucking at the skin, making sure to leave behind some red mark to claim you.

“Take your top off,” he groaned into your ear, watching as you obeyed him, lifting your top above your head and throwing it onto the floor absentmindedly, locking lips with him immediately after. You were like an almost starved lion searching for it’s pray right now; you were getting desperate.

Once all of yours and Jugkook’s clothes were abandoned, finding a place to stay on the floor instead, Jungkook wasted no time in littering hickeys all the way down your chest and to the bottom of your stomach, stopping right where you wanted him the most; your dripping wet core.

Jungkook chuckled, eyeing your pussy. “Eager, are we, baby?” You wriggled under his stare at his words, moaning out. You look to where Jungkook is, head between your thighs, legs thrown over his shoulders and looking at you intensely in the eyes. “You’re fucking dripping, baby. So wet for me, huh? I bet I could just slip my cock right into your pretty little pussy so easily,” he spoke sinful words huskily, back to eyeing your cunt in front of him. You moaned again, clearly showing the effect his words had on you. You wanted him so badly.

“Oh, you’d like that, huh?” he taunts, breath fanning over your folds, moaning instantly. “Oh my god, you smell so good, my pretty baby.”

“Jungkook, please…” you whined, moving your hips up, trying to tease him until he would waste no more time on giving you what you wanted.

It worked like a charm. In no time, Jungkook held his hands on your hips, securing them in place, pupils displayed full-blown as he devoured your pussy like he was a starving animal. He moaned about how good you tasted into your core, the vibrations sending shocks through your entire body, making you gasp.

“Fuck, Jungkook.. shit! You’re going to make me cum, Jungkook!” you moan loudly, your mouth agape as your body trembled, your legs shaking from the intensity of your orgasm.

Jungkook didn’t stop there, though. He kitten licked at your pussy again, adding two fingers this time, until he made you cum another time, and then again until he almost made you cum, once again and he pulled away with a cocky smirk. He crawled up your body until he reached your face, your legs wrapping automatically around his hips as he kissed you, your mouths moving wildly against each other as your hands threaded themselves through his hair.

“Please, Jungkook,” you begged, pulling away from the kiss with a desperate look on your face, “please fuck me.”

“Holy shit,” Jungkook swears into your mouth before pulling back, “begging for my cock, without me even asking,” he tutted, “what a dirty slut you are, huh?”

Without any warning, Jungkook suddenly thrusts straight up into you, just slipping through your folds through the amount of your wetness.

You moaned the loudest you ever have then, screaming his name as he circled his hips over your over-stimulated clit. Then, he pulls out of you, just to slam right back in, and the rhythm starts then. Jungkook’s hands wrap around your neck, pressing lightly as he growls, “tell me, who makes you this much of a slut?”

“Fuck!” you scream. It was all too much for your overstimulated cunt. Tears welled up in your eyes, but you swallowed them back. “You, Jungkook, you make me a slut! You’re the only one i am a slut for, Jungkook! Oh fuck..”

Your walls clenched around Jungkook’s dick as he moaned loudly again, kissing and sucking on your neck.

“Shit, princess, do that again,” he gasped in your ear, and you did.

“Fuck! Jungkook, may I cum? I’ve been a good slut for you today, haven’t I? I need to cum Jungkook, please let me cum!” you sob through the immense pleasure you’re feeling.

Jungkook groans again, “yes, you may cum, baby. You’ve been such a girl for me today, my baby. You did a good job,” he praised as you came undone around his dick, screaming out his name a few last times.

Jungkook came soon after you, pulling out of you and cumming on your breasts just in time. After, he fell breathless on top of your body, his hands trying to hold your hips still, trying to calm down after his strong orgasm.

“Fuck, baby, you did so well today, i’m so proud of you. You were so fucking tight around me and you tasted so great,” he praised, you whined at him telling him not to wind you up because you don’t think your body can handle a round two tonight. He laughed, kissing your forehead.

“Okay, princess, just rest for me now, okay? i’ll be here with you in the morning, just get some sleep..”

In your last moment of consciousness, you heard him mumble, “i’ll always take care of you, my baby,” against your head, making you fall asleep with a soft smile on your face.

280 notes · View notes

uriduriragwaenchana · 6 years

Text

All of your attention pt1 || Wong Yukhei (f)

a/n: a very cute anon requested this a while ago. I'm sorry it took so long I was trying to make sure I had enough information on the subject to write about it😅thank you for bearing with me

genre: fluff! cafe!au Its a little dramatic but so am I so..

words: approx. 2.6k

summary: Why would he think ignoring him was something anyone could do on purpose?

☕

"I brought you help," He smiled with all of his teeth, his eyes squeezing shut as he tossed a look back to where he'd left the stranger, the new boy, petting the animals. That was exactly how it started.

Johnny had worked at the puppy cafe for quite a while before you'd been hired and he'd done a number when it came to marketing and advertising the small place, tucked away on the far end of a busy shopping district.

His face helped, he wasn't bad looking; he was actually quite stunning and he was even more charming and friendly once you got over thinking how people really weren't allowed to look like that-- coupled with the visual of his tall frame feeding and caring for small animals and making frappecionos with a towel over his shoulder-- well, you can imagine why there were always people in the store and a small line down the street.

Aside from that he made a mean cup of coffee and kept little cute flyers with him so that even when he was approached randomly or met someone at a supermarket or elsewhere, he'd hand it to them and smile and then they'd come running through the door the first chance they got.

He was sociable and easy to talk to and sometimes he invited his friends to watch him work, which usually consisted of them ignoring him and spending the afternoon playing with cute pups. They were wellmannered and just as goodlooking and made easy conversation with you when they weren't giving their undivided attention to the animals or when you tended to their glasses for refills.

The days when Johnny was off were noticably more quiet and easy going, which you preferred. Sure, you enjoyed his company but when it was busy, it was hard for you to concentrate and stay focused, and most of all it was hard to make out what any one of the customers were saying when there was soft music from the speakers, puppies barking and growling and chatter, with 'ooohs' and 'aaahs' directed almost always toward Johnny.

Oh and the puppies.

Today was no different, save for a few middle schoolers sipping distractedly on iced coffee with two, mild mannered labs sat on the seat next to them, eager for any sort of attention.

You didn't expect Johnny to come in today because he'd called in earlier about his practice running a little late and you most certainly did not expect for him to bring friends. Luckily you were facing the door, cleaning up after Yuki; the toffee coloured shitzu, otherwise you'd have missed the little bell on the door ding and Johnny coming in, followed into the store by another giant boy with the biggest, most endearing eyes and an oversized blue sweater and messy, soft brown hair.

The puppies went straight for the stranger like they'd been waiting for his return (even if you were sure you'd never seen him before) and started licking and wagging excitedly as he ran his hands over them, eyes alight in jovial delight.

☕

Ever since then, the tiny, fairly profitable puppy cafe had had a new addition to its staff. Lucas-- who reminded you so much of Sushi, the doe-eyed beagle mix that always found the strangest assortment of accessories from god knows where around the store and dropped them at your feet-- wasn't much older than you were and probably half as capable. He was a clutz and a little bit of a ditz and you suspected that it was that naïve charm about him that was so endearing to the customers. They never seemed to get mad or impatient with him when he mixed up an order or put a little too much sugar in the drinks and he drew the younger kids in by the boatload. The coffeemaker was his nemesis and the trio of pugs that were brought in by one of the usual customers-- a high school boy with soft smiling eyes and beautiful lashes--named Blondie, Raven And Carmine respectively, always made his life miserable.

You would admit, however that Lucas was kind of cute. His hair was always a fluffy storm, like he'd ran his hands through it too many times in one second. His hands dwarfed the puppies and most of the kitchen appliances and utensils. His mannerisms were also kind of adorable; he mumbled a lot to himself--which you found out when he was training, and only because you'd been looking at him directly. He was asked to make a basic iced coffee and when he moved behind the counter to begin, immediately started the inner and sometimes outer conversation with the appliances. You could read his lips but at some point you'd decided there were multiple languages involved and you wouldn't try to decipher that.

Overall, very cute.

He wasn't however, as articulate or friendly as Johnny; who now spent more time out of the store now that Lucas had begun his shifts more regularly. He'd been a recurring staff member for a little over two months now and during that time, Lucas hadn't tried speaking to you unless he had to and tended to side step you altogether. You hadn't minded at first, you were a little shy about certain things about yourself and it was fine, if only a little hurtful but you weren't going to make trouble unless he was being rude.

You were perfectly content to remain cordial colleges; you each had your routine duties-- he took out the trash and cleaned the dog's sleeping area, you cleaned and stacked chairs on close up and took care of the counter and kitchen area. You both fed and cared for the animals and washed the dishes in peaceful silence-- and you were comfortable enough in his presence to get through the day without major upset. Until one day he broke part of the coffee machine and you'd decided to make the executive decision, after calling Johnny and talking about it for five minutes; to close up shop about an hour early, put the pups away to their little room in the back wih sufficient food and toys to entertain them, and try to fix the machine since it only seemed like the lever had detatched itself in Lucas' all-encompassing grip.

"What do we do?" his hands found their way into his hair as he turned to you when you'd came back, shoving the phone into your apron.

"We can try to fix it, no biggie," You assured the little big baby standing and staring, absolutely distraught. He was truly adorable.

It in fact, was a biggie and before the minute of faux repairing was up, there were more loose parts than you knew what to do with and very little idea of what to do next. You did not want to call Johnny with this information. You wanted to believe you were more than capable of doing this on your own. You were not inept; the coffee machine was Lucas' enemy, not yours.

☕

Some time during the next half hour, Lucas had managed to find a toolbox in the storage room, the cafe had been closed for much longer than you'd have liked and both of you were still no closer to fixing the machine than you'd been when you started. Your patience with the contraption was starting to wear a bit thin and Lucas was visibly agitated-- kind of the first truly negative emotion you'd seen him express.

"This isn't working," you didn't hear the metal wrench clank against the tile countertops, but you did see Lucas plop down into the plushy seat Johnny had purchased at a flea market and stuck behind the counter for 'atmosphere', his full lips pulling together in an exaggerated pout. "Oh geez, its all my fault too."

"Not really." Yes really... "You've actually been doing really great so far," You were not entirely sure what prompted you to respond, honestly. He wasn't speaking to you, but you'd managed to make out what he said and he looked like very much like a wounded puppy. You wanted to at least lessen whatever he was feeling and your heart may have lurched a little when he looked up at you from his seat, eyes wide and a little bit of a smile dancing at the corner of his mouth.

"I mean you put a little too much effort in sometimes but... " you rushed, letting the sentence hang and turning away as your face began to sear, back to your task at hand. If you looked him in the eye again you were sure you would crumble and right now, you wanted nothing more than to fix the stupid machine and get back to work.

There was a beat before you felt movement at your back and spun, immediately met face to chest with Lucas' mass of body.

"You're doing it again," he said crowding your space like it wasn't even yours to begin with. Everything was a blur and before you realised what had happened, your lower back was met with a lever on the machine and you were sandwhiched between the two, confused and flustered. Your most innate reaction was to try to put some space between the two of you. He was much too close; you could practically feel his body through his clothes and your brain was starting to dissasociate with this personal space nonsense. You forced your hands up though, and angled your body away as best you could without impaling yourself further on the now, broken coffee maker.

"Doing what?" you sputtered, trying to keep eye contact with him somehow so you could try to pick up what he was saying but also trying to regain some of your composure. Lucas wasn't having any of it though, completely oblivious to your struggle as he tilted his head to look down at you.

"You're ignoring me. You've been doing it since I got here; I try to talk to you or ask you questions like when we do dishes and stuff because I'm really trying and this is really hard, but you keep ignoring me and I'm kind of hurt and annoyed." His eyebrows furrowed and he was pouting again. You were very hyper aware of all his facial details and not the not so subtle changes in his expression; the unreal process of a frown glossing over his features was kind of mesmerising.

Why was he so... pretty?

He was too close.

Your breath got stuck in your throat and you froze as the implications of what he had said dawned on you. Of course Johnny hadn't told him; he was too kind, too Johnny. He would want your business to be your business. He would let you confide in Lucas on your own like you'd done with him. A very small part of you kind of wished he had told him so you wouldn't have to go through this again now, but you realized that potentially would have been worse than his entrappment. Apart from this being the most he's ever said to you-- well now you knew that probably wasn't true-- you had a good few of reasons to be taken aback.

Why would he think ignoring him was something anyone could do on purpose? Surely he was aware of how large he was; physically and personality-wise as well? This did seem to explain his occasional mild standoffishness and you thought back to all the times your back must have been turned to him and he'd probably tried to say something to you.

Poor kid; he was trying his best and struggling and he was just trying to talk to you or make a friend. You wanted to facepalm but your hands were keeping you alive so you settled for groaning softly. Would apologising even help?

Not if you weren't going to tell him.

You swallowed another groan and attempted again to put some space between you. This time Lucas got the message and took one tentative step back. That did nothing, but it was enough for you to bring a hand up to brush some of your short hair behind your ear, revealing the tan aid you had in today. You didn't usually wear them, but you were kind of glad you did because now you didn't have to focus on explaining, just keeping the anxiety and embarrassment from showing on your face. People very rarely cared, most did however and decided against any type of relationship with you because of it.

"I don't ignore you on purpose," was all you could get past your lips at this point.

Lucas retook the space he'd just barely given you, reaching a hand up and out to you. You held your breath; your first instinct again, to move. Move and then panic although the latter seemed to sprint ahead first. What if he was trying to touch it? You were not an animal. And you were going to muster some annoyance to tell him off or at the very least move away, but his hand stopped short, grazing your skin, stroking your cheek ever so lightly before he pulled back half second later. He was staring and all that served to do was make your skin hot and your knees waver in and out of stability. This was a very bad idea and he needed to stop looking at you like you were... normal. He wasn't staring at it, although he had briefly glanced, but rather he was staring at you, his eyes settling on yours.

"What?" you tried to keep the anticipation out of your voice. This was killing you. His eyes ran over your face endlessly, what he was looking for you weren't exactly sure. What you were sure of however, was how ridiculously easy it would be to stare at his eyes forever without wanting for anything else. They were so pretty and bare and screamed of his harmlessness. He could probably kill you if he hugged you too tightly and the damage he had made to coffee maker was minimal, but even if he looked like a threat to most inanimate objects and short people, you knew he was harmless. He probably just didn't know his own strength.

"So... you just weren't hearing me?"

You winced and dropped your gaze. This was so embarrassing and talking about it so casually was just making you want to crawl inside yourself. You weren't embarrassed to be hard of hearing, nor were you embarrassed of the aids; you'd needed them since you were very young, and you knew you weren't an anomoly-- there were tons of people like you and you liked yourself because of it, not in spite of it. These conversations were always uncomfortable though because you never knew what type of reaction you would get. You finally grew some balls and slid out from practically under Lucas, sliding across the edge of the counter. Now you could almost breathe again, although now there a was a familiar, Lucas-sized indent in your memory and on your body.

"Yea," you didnt elaborate or offer any types of explanation. Anything that would prolong this conversation was not something you wanted to do right now.

"Oh my god?" you and Lucas jolted, spinning around to where the voice of pure distress had come from. Johnny's large frame shimmied between the beaded curtain seperating the puppy room from the main cafe, his hair hanging low in his eyes and coated in sweat like he'd ran all the way from practice. He wasnt panting, but he was breathing raggedy as he stared between you both, who looked like you'd kick the shit out of the coffee maker and won. Secretly, you were ecstatic that'd he'd come despite you begging him to just let you deal with it. Even without knowing, he was saving your behind. "I thought you said it was just a lever?!"

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awed-frog · 6 years

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Can I ask something about menstrual cups? I can't really use tampons - getting them in is time consuming and I can feel them which is super uncomfortable (and I know they say you have to push them further but I literally can't) but I was kind of wondering how a menstrual cup compares to that? Can you feel them? How long do you need to practice with them?

Hey there! So, I have no problem answering this question, but please remember this is my experience - not all vaginas are created equal.

tl;dr answer: menstrual cups don’t compare to tampons in any way because tampons are The Claw of the Devil and cups love you and support you and want to see you happy; no, you can’t feel a menstrual cup, it’s like not wearing one at all; you can learn to how insert it and take it out in half an hour, but it may take you a couple of months to work out the kinks.

(pictured: me when I realized I would never have to use a tampon ever again)

Longer answer under the cut.

As a first thing - if you find you have a lot of trouble putting in a tampon, remember that you could simply be nervous or anxious (that will cause your muscles to clench, and it’s possible you won’t even realize you’re clenching because you have the impression you’re more or less relaxed), but it could also be a problem of vaginal dryness or another health issue, like vaginismus - maybe consider a chat with your ob/gyn doctor?

That said, what you describe is pretty common. I’ve got friends who hate tampons with a vengeance, and I never wore them myself if I could avoid it. Here is how a menstrual cup is different:

1) Tampons are dry. This means they can be uncomfortable to insert, especially during the first and last days of your cycle. Cups, on the other hand, are made of silicone, which means they easily slide against your skin - in theory, you can wear them even when you’re not bleeding at all (apparently some women put them in a few hours before they expect their period to start, and that’s the level of organization and attention to detail we all should aspire to).

2) Tampons and cups sit in different places inside your body. Have a look:

You see how it works? That darker, bean-shaped thing is your uterus, and the opening between the vagina and the uterus is your cervix - while it’s impossible for a tampon to get inside it, a sharp pressure against the cervix can hurt - a lot. That’s why sometimes you feel a stab of pain when wearing a tampon (and that can be a problem during sexual intercourse as well, by the way, because some guys seem convinced that the whole goal of sex is to put their thing inside your vagina and watch it come out of your mouth or something). But cups, bless them, sit far, far away from your cervix, and that’s another reason why you don’t feel they’re there.

3) Another advantage here is that you need to push tampons back a whole lot for them to be in the right place, and if you’re young, or have small fingers, it’s annoying af. If you want to keep using tampons, those with applicators are probably a good idea, but personally I hated them even more because a) they’re not discreet - for weird women like me who don’t use purses, it feels like you’re walking around with a damn sigar; b) it’s like you’re injecting yourself with something, which you aren’t, but that THERE’S GOING TO BE A NEEDLE UP MY FANNY feeling is not something you need when you’re in the middle of your cycle, and mostly c) they’re so, so wasteful - look at all the paper and plastic you’re literally throwing away. Ugh.

(I mean, don’t get me wrong, I think every woman should experiment with everything we’ve got available for this stupid problem and find something that suits her, but personally I wish cups had been a thing twenty years ago.)

Anyway - since cups sit much lower, putting them in is much less annoying. I remember those fed up attempts to push a tampon another inch back and wondering if it was the right place at all - well, bye bye to that and fuck you very much, tampons.

It’s much easier to place cups in the right spot, I promise you.

4) Tampons tend to dry out your vaginal walls, which can be painful, especially when you insert or remove a tampon (think micro-wounds and all that crap). Cups just sit there without bothering anyone because they’re just nice that way.

So these are the reasons why a cup shouldn’t annoy you as much as a tampon. As to how to get used to them, here are a few tips.

A) If you’re a virgin or a teenager, take it easy. Your vagina is probably a bit tighter, and it’s likely you’ll be more nervous and less used to your body. That’s okay. Remember you’re allowed to get familiar with how you look down there - feel free to look at diagrams and experiment, in sexual or non sexual way, to learn what your vagina feels like. Be curious and patient. Also: a cup will slide through your hymen, but, like a tampon, it can also cause the hymen to tear. Now, this is absolutely not a problem, because the hymen is just an annoying flap of skin which means nothing, BUT if you live in a country where it’s dangerous not to be a virgin at your wedding, please - safety first. I wish I didn’t have to say this and that we lived in a better world, but we don’t, so if your family is very traditional or very religious and you know you could be in danger if your hymen tears before your wedding, please discuss this with your mother or a health professional before using tampons or a cup.

B) Pick the right size. As far as I can see, all brands are pretty much the same, but most tend to have two sizes. If you have children or are over forty, you should go with the bigger one.

C) Pick the right time. Learning how to insert a cup can take anywhere from ten minutes to a couple of hours, so the best thing is to have the house to yourself, put on some cheerful or relaxing music and give yourself time to do it properly.

D) Baby steps. Finally, once you’re used to it you’ll be able to insert and remove your cup while sitting on the toilet and to do it very quickly, but I think for your first time it’s easier if you squat in your shower or your bathtub. You can wait till the middle of your cycle if you want, but as I said above, the cup can also be used when you’re not bleeding, so you can also pick a random day and see how it works. Most brands will have a very long stem - don’t cut it just yet. It’s a psychological support that helps you let go of the fear the cup could be lost inside your body (which it won’t, by the way), so just ignore it’s there, hold the cup between your thumb and middle finger, squish it with your index so the opening becomes C-shaped, and gently insert it up your vagina. It may take you a few tries to see where it should sit, especially if you’re used to tampons, but the instructions are very clear, and you can also Google for more tips (if you want privacy, guest mode is the invisible option, not incognito mode). Once it’s in, pinch the base a little bit to make it pop open and then make sure it is actually open by pushing your finger very gently around the body. If it’s still close, you’ll feel the C-shaped crease; pinch again and move it around a bit until it opens (a folded cup won’t adhere to the vaginal walls, which makes it useless). Once it’s in, stand up and move around. If the stem is still there, you should feel it, but not the cup itself. Congrats, you’ve done it!

To take it out, squat again and push down on the cup with one finger to form a crease, then simply slide it out. After you’ve done it a few times, you’ll learn to take it out without spilling the blood inside, but for now don’t worry about that.

E) That’s it! Once you get how it’s done, you can cut off the stem and start your new life as a Free & Happy Woman. Remember to boil the cup before and after every cycle and to change it regularly - it may need to be changed every two to four hours in case of very heavy bleeding, but to be honest the main problem will be remembering you’re on your period - since you don’t feel the cup at all, it’s more than likely you’ll forget to clean it out, or even to take it out at the end of your period. It’s just that comfortable.

F) Finally, a piece of unsolicited advice: there’s no ‘forever’ when it comes to periods. Your regularity, flow level, mood swings and aches may change from month to month. It’s always a good idea to keep a calendar so you have some idea of when your period is due (also when PMS is likely to hit you) and if you’re experiencing negative symptoms, try changing stuff around before taking medication. There is nothing wrong about painkillers, but pain is often a message from your body, so if you can answer that message instead of silencing it, well, I’d say that’s a good thing. Period cramps and PMS mood swings can often be managed by adjusting your diet (as usual, think more greens and less junk food), drinking some teas (like fennel or ginger) and, counter-intuitively, moving around more. In my experience, drastically reducing your sugar intake also helps a lot. Oh, and in case you’ve never seen it, here’s a funny and no-nonsense video about how our cycle works:

youtube

I hope this helped. Getting used to a menstrual cup may take some time - for the first month, I tried to avoid changing in public toilets because I was terrified it would fall inside (ugh) and didn’t exactly know how to clean it (paper works, but if you’ve got a small bathroom and the sink is right next to the toilet, well, that’s really the best way to rinse your cup out), but other than that, I was comfortable from the start. I always hated both pads and tampons, especially in warm weather, so this feeling of being completely free and forgetting you even have a period at all - yeah, that sold it for me. I also found it’s way more pleasant to insert a cup that’s slightly warm, so that could be another way to make it an easier and less stressful experience when you’re just starting out (but don’t make the water too hot - your skin’s sensitive down there!). Here are some more tips for first time users which I find pretty sensible. But also, you know - all of this makes it sound way more difficult than it is. It’s just a matter of relaxing and learning how to squish it an unsquish it - then you’re good to go. Happy bleeding, you magnificent she-beast!

#ask #periods #menstrual cup #menstrual cycle #women's health #:)

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netherwar-rpg-blog · 7 years

Photo

Welcome to the Wardens, Nikki! Your application for OC PRIEST has been accepted with a Astrid Berges-Frisbey FC.

I cannot wait to see how Efa’s pure and well-meant kindness affects the Wardens! She is exactly the type of Priest we need in the group - someone warm, protective and caring. Reading through your app, I can really see how deeply and passionately you’ve thought about Efa’s personality. It was really reflected in the roleplay sample as well where we see Efa retrieving the stolen goods but still doing her duty as a healer to make sure the thief would not pass away from his wound - but with a stern word, of course! I really like that the Priest who found her was a father figure and introduced her to the warmth of the Holy Light. I bet the Wardens will be the perfect opportunity for Efa to grow stronger in her powers and through that, her connection to the Light, so she can truly protect the innocents of Eldris!

The application can be found under the cut. You have 48 hours to create a roleplay account (cannot be a sideblog) for your character and we will be updating our opening date soon!

O O C - I N F O

Name: Nikki

Age: 20

Timezone: PST

Activity Level: If not daily, then every other day! (Might be a bit sporadic the first few days though depending on when/if I get accepted since I’m apping during finals. As soon as I heard this was open I just couldn’t stop myself tbh.)

Extra: none

C H A R A C T E R - I N F O

T H E - B A S I C S

Name: Efa Hale

Gender: Female

Age: 24

Class: Priest

Faceclaim: Astrid Berges-Frisbey

C H A R A C T E R - D E T A I L S

Nationality: Siften

Appearance:

One could tell how close they are to this mousy character by how high her head is held, by how long she’ll share a look. Though she stands taller than most, Efa often appears smaller than she is with her habit of withdrawing into herself among strangers and higher-ups. Her hands move as often as her lips do, attempting to find words in the air or to coax them from her uncertainty. Biting lip and shifty eyes, she’d look guilty but a different kind of nervousness grips her.

Sometimes, she’ll comb through the mess of her hair, pulling it in front of her so that it falls just enough to cover her ears and the side of her face. A faint scar curves down from the middle of her right brow to just the beginning of her ear. It is almost unnoticeable but it’s there jagged in its healing.

Her most noticeable feature are her eyes, a mixture of flecks of colors against a greyish hazel. With how often she looks down or away though, for a noticeable feature they can be easily missed.

Personality:

- Naive; She was raised on the words of a dreamer and though life has taught her much it has not set her heart straight. Efa trusts too much, giving others second and third chances because she wants to believe in the good in people. This will hurt her; not everyone is deserving of the chances she gives. - Indecisive; Not wanting to be a burden, she would rather give decisions over to other people. When unable to let others choose, Efa worries over what the other would want her to pick and what would be better for everyone else, what would hurt them less. - Timid; Confrontation is not her strong point. Rather than bringing up a problem between her and someone else, she would choose to either avoid them or try and endure it. It takes a certain amount of reassurance or passion on her part for her to voice her worries, her concerns.

+ empathetic; A bit motherly in nature, Efa approaches all with a certain warmth. Welcoming and open, she’d do her best to listen to anyone with troubles or even the slightest concerns. More in tune to her emotions, empathy comes easy to her usually or, at the very least, sympathy accompanied by an apology for not being able to fully understand and share their feelings. + perceptive; Having been raised keeping a keen eye on her siblings and then on her and other’s belongings on the streets, Efa has honed her perception to a fine point. This is not just saying that she can notice things fairly quickly but she has a knack for grasping situations regarding herself or others. Although, she doesn’t do much with her knowledge if it means meddling in other people’s affairs. + loyal; Having left her family once and having been left behind, she’s vowed to never leave her friends or her team again. Efa would rather be the one left behind than the one leaving and so she’s prepared to do whatever she can to help and protect her allies, her friends, and whoever she regards as family.

C H A R A C T E R - B A C K G R O U N D

History:

(Tell us about the important parts of your character’s history. Are they a noble? Or are they a commoner who was a prodigy in their Class? Maybe they are a keen adventurer and want to find glory in the Wardens. Think about your character’s class and the class faction. How did your character become powerful enough to join the Wardens? And what has their story been so far?)

Efa’s mother believed in fairy tales and, for some time, Efa earnestly believed in them too. Irina Hale was a soapmaker and a romantic; Neirin was a traveling noble and bored. He found Irina’s dreams adorable and fancied the way she clung to his every word. Irina was left with an eventually-to-be Efa and his promise that he would return when he continued his travels onward and away. Irina told Efa of the tales and adventures that Neirin had seen or heard about and these filled Efa’s ears up enough that she did not hear the gossip about her or the disapproving sneers toward her mother. Until her father returned to town and they went to see him.

Her ears still ring when someone calls her a disappointment.

Irina did not talk about Neirin again. She married a few months later with some man named Cyrus. He was a tinkerer who wanted nothing more than to expand his business and to raise a family of clean reputation and standing. Efa became the eldest of four: Dieter and twins by the name of Amie and Anna. She stayed indoors most of the time to take care of the children. Cyrus had noticed the gossip surrounding her upbringing and origins and had hoped that her staying in would reduce that. He blamed the failing business on the negative attention that she brought. She did not know this but she felt it.

Efa left her family when she was ten, hoping that with one less mouth to feed and with her gone they’d be better off. Traveling in the back of people’s carriages and carts, she eventually worked her way to Morellin. After spending a few weeks barely managing to live off the streets through minor thievery, she was adopted by a small group of street kids that called themselves the Back-Ally Yarrows.

The Back-Alley Yarrows was created by Lyall and his younger sister, Sylvi, after having been joined by three others. They hadn’t meant to get any larger but they adopted Efa after saving her from starvation. Lyall and Sylvi created a group to be a second family; joining wasn’t difficult so long as they decided you could. All Efa had to do was leave behind her family name and take on one of theirs. Everyone had a nickname or title they were known by. Lyall the Wolf, Sylvi the Rabbit, and Efa the Mouse. She was much smaller and quieter then.

Other than this custom and their names, the Back-Alley Yarrows was nothing more than a group of kids trying to live together. Like the other street urchins, they stole food from whoever they could, they begged for coins the best they could. There was, perhaps, more skill to their acts because of their relationship with one another but no more cleverness than what one would expect from a group of kids. But they had a name and with that came power and confidence. There was a sense of belonging. They had an identity. They had a family.

In contrast to that, the Silver Blades is a small organization looking for profit. Taking more from the market than simply food, the Silver Blades look to steal, sell, or trade. Each member is required to turn in a certain value whether it be from gold, items, or through their services by the end of each week in order to be housed and fed for the next. To ensure their membership, their crimes tend to be higher in number and intensity. Most members have their own connections, people they sell to or supply, but many of the younger ones just steal to meet their requirements. Those that regularly miss the payment are kicked from the group and punished by being scarred with the group’s mark.

Most of the time, the Back-Alley Yarrows and the Silver Blades don’t cross paths but this particular week was coming to an end and a new batch of younger members were getting desperate. Efa had just managed to steal an alms box from a church when she ran into the Silver Blades. After trying to run off only to be cornered in an alley, she got cut by one of their knives and then slammed face first into the ground in the fight. She managed to trip one and escape with the Silver Blades being more interested in the money she left behind than her.

Soon after discovering Efa wounded, Lyall disappeared to presumably take the Silver Blades on. He never told Efa what he did and how come he had come back with so much money afterward. Weeks after the incident, the group disbanded. Efa came back to find their usual hideout empty with no note or indication as to why.

A Priest found Efa once again trying to steal an alms box but instead of punishing her, he took her in. Rheinallt taught her the faith and became something of a father figure. While she was not sure in her own abilities in the beginning, Efa saw that she could do even the least bit good when she used her Light powers to help heal a small dormouse that she had found in their old alleyway. Thinking of it as a sign, she named him Fern and took him on her journey to become a Warden.

Reason for joining the Wardens:

Rheinallt opened Efa’s eyes to the faith but also urged her in doing what she believed was better. She isn’t sure of what she can do but she wants to help. Efa aims to join the Wardens in order to do some good and to maybe find a team or friends that will stay.

Desired Connections:

Sure! I have no preference as to who; Efa would be happy to help anyone so she could have met whoever before.

R O L E P L A Y - S A M P L E

Screams and shouts rouse your character from an afternoon nap in the busy town. A rough looking thief is dashing through the crowds, huddling a bag of jewels to his chest, and the soldiers are too far to act. What does your character do?

Lavender lulled her to sleep, the small flowerbed sheltering the bench in the soft scent. Efa rested her head against the craggy stone brick of the building and breathed in the aroma. She closed her eyes. Her mother was a soapmaker and their house had been filled with the smell of flowers and bark and the biting scent of lye. The longer she focused on tracing the scent back through her memories, the sharper she could see her old home. The image of it was both biting and comforting, she ran over it in her head like a tongue over a tooth’s gap.

“Thief! Thief!” Yells in the distance tugged her up and out of her dreams. Squinting in the light, Efa could make out a fast approaching figure carrying a glinting bag. The yells had come from a distraught man who had done his best to catch up with the criminal; he stood pointing weakly towards the running man as he tried to regain his breath.

Pushing herself up off of the bench, Efa rolled her shoulders with a drawn out exhale. She picked up a dormouse that had fallen asleep in her pocket and placed him back on the spot she had been sitting in. “Be back in a moment,” She bobbed her head, “maybe. But I’ll definitely come back for you. Don’t worry.” Then, fishing out her dagger from its sheath, she hurried off to interrupt the thief’s path.

The thief kept running, glancing frantically over his shoulder to check on his pursuers. There were none. Efa planted her feet in the earth and pushed forward, putting her weight in her shoulder thrust. The dagger was an afterthought that followed, catching the thief’s side more than anything. Still, his shirt bloomed crimson. He fell clutching his wound.

“I’ll take that off you then.” The jewels shone with the sunlight, glittering ruby and sapphire. Efa gazed at it all for a moment, wondering how they would feel in her hands. If they would be cool like water or be warmed earth. She raised her head and smiled at the rushing footsteps. “No need to run, I don’t think this thief can take any more.” With the mention of him, she leaned down so she could see his face and whispered low. “I’ll heal that for you once things are sorted, okay? Unless you try anything. Okay, I will probably still heal you but I’ll take my time about it.”

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hollanderin · 4 years

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Increase Height Gel Pads Mind Blowing Ideas

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truedogs-blog1 · 7 years

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The World of the American Pit Bull Terrier - Forward

Recently, at a Thanksgiving dinner, a favorite uncle of mine introduced me as someone who raised Pit Bulls. Knowing my uncle’s evil sense of humor and propensity for inflicting awkward situations on me to see how well I squirm out of them, I knew that I was being set up. My uncle’s friend was obviously intelligent and well educated and, above all, a gentle and kindly person. So, naturally, his response to my “exposure” as a devotee of the Pit Bulldogs was something of a shock to him. “Oh dear! Oh dear!” he said, shaking his head in a mild reproof. I regarded him bemusedly and answered, “Brainwashed by the news media, I see!” After making that pronouncement, I rebuked him gently for allowing an educated man like himself to be hoodwinked so easily. And because he was educated, intelligent, and open-minded, he listened to me as I explained what the Pit Bull was really like. He apparently gave some credence to what I had to say, for he left that night with a parting comment that he wanted to talk to me about acquiring a Pit Bull pup – much to the amusement of my uncle who knew very well (from experience with my dogs) that Pit Bulldogs, despite their reputation to the contrary, have possibly the best and most stable dispositions of all dogs. Unfortunately, it must be assumed that anyone familiar with Pit Bulldogs who happens to pick up this book has been brainwashed by the news media, for certainly most of the public has been brainwashed, and where else would they have gotten their information? It is hoped, however, that the reader will be open-minded enough to consider this most deserving of dogs on his own merits and not on his reputation. It may seem that where there is all this smoke, there must be at least a little fire – and, sure enough, there is! These are dogs with awesome fighting ability; and since they enjoy fighting, they can be a danger to other dogs, regardless of size, and to other animals, too. Thus, the owner of a Pit Bulldogs must be a responsible person and not violate the leash laws as so many others do. Since the Pit Bull is a unique breed of dog, special precautions are needed for keeping him. I have provided a chapter that details some of the systems for keeping more than one Pit Bull and, of course, they can be used even if you’re keeping only one. It’s easy once you know how, and it’s worth it, for these dogs are truly special. Some may feel that I have been soft on dogfighters (or pit dog men, as they prefer to call themselves), but there are plenty of other writers who know little about pit dog men but condemn them roundly and regularly, so why should I add to that? I think my place is more to put things into perspective for readers that have been regularly spoon-fed stories of how kittens and small dogs are used for bait in the training of a pit dog. And, too, although of a scientific bent, I am a hopeless romantic when it comes to this breed, for I view them as the most courageous and heroic of dogs, and I’m not convinced they’d stay that way without the fiery sport that forged them. Perhaps one reason I am so tolerant and understanding of pit dog men is that in my youth it was my good fortune to know some very fine men who happened to be pit dog men. Although they could stand to watch a pit dog take punishment in a match, they were more tender than most people when it came to animals, and they were bona fide dog lovers, too. They were far more responsible dog owners than the vast majority of people – including many of those who criticize pit dog men. My old mentor Bob Wallace, in particular, was highly critical of irresponsible behavior of the average dog owner. And I have never known anyone who had a better feeling for dogs of took better care of them. This book is my third on the American Pit Bull Terrier. Ideally, the books should be read in order, starting with This Is the American Pit Bull Terrier, then the Book of the American Pit Bull Terrier, and finishing with this one. No harm is done, however, in reading the books out of sequence. Indeed, this book in some ways is more of a primer than the other two in that it gets down to basics about such elementary things as the feeding and housing of an APBT. Some readers may be shocked that I provide a generalized “keep” in this book. But why not do it? The contesting of dogs is continuing unabated, so why not help relative novices provide their charges with the best possible conditioning and feeding methods? After all, my thesis has always been that matching dogs is not cruel if done properly. Besides, just exactly how all of this is done will be of interest to the regular Pit Bull owner and perhaps even to those poor toy dog devotees who have been horrified and sickened by stories of how pit dog men are constantly on the prowl for little dogs to use as “training bait”!

One of the problems with a third book is to avoid repeating what was already covered some place in the other two. However, some things are worth repeating, and other items needed embellishing. Generally, though, the material in this book consists of what I still had to say about what I consider to be the most remarkable and unique breed of dog that has ever existed.

Richard F. Stratton

AN IMPORTANT NOTE TO READERS OF THIS BOOK

You are going to find as you read this book that my feelings about dogfighting are much different from the feelings about dogfighting that you’ve had thrust at you from the print and electronic news media. Unlike the media, I’m not against dogfighting; I like game dogs, and I like most of the pit dog men I’ve come across. So naturally any book I write about the world’s premier fighting dog is going to be partial to pit contests and pit dog people, and it will put the knock on their enemies. I’m biased, obviously. You might conclude while reading the book that I’ve been strong in expressing both my likes and my dislikes; you might even feel that I’ve been too strong. That’s okay -- at least you know where I stand. But the one thing you should not conclude from what I’ve said in this book is that I’d like to see you get involved with dogfighting. I don’t think that you should. I think that you should keep away from dogfighting in any form, and the reason I think so is based on one very important consideration: dogfighting is illegal in most of the places this book will be read. Now I can sit down at a typewriter every day and knock out a new manuscript saying why I think dogfighting is a humane and sensible activity and why I think the people against dogfighting are mindless and gutless humaniacs – but that doesn’t change the fact that the laws I rail against have sharp teeth, and I wouldn’t want you to run afoul of them. The laws are mostly counterproductive and egregious, but you can’t use the laws’ idiocy as a defense is you’re charged with breaking them. I hate to say it, but the best way to avoid having dogfighting charges lodged against you is to be completely blameless. (One way, for example, to make sure that you never get arrested at a dogfight is never to go to a dogfight where dogfighting is illegal.) Just in case you’re not aware of some the very stiff laws against dogfighting in the United States, I’m going to reproduce here a portion of the text of the section dealing with “animal fighting ventures” from a 1976 federal law; many state laws are even worse. Take my advice: don’t: get caught breaking any of the laws against dogfighting. Use any legal means you want to educate the public and change the laws, but steer clear of breaking them. The humaniacs who’ve gotten the laws passed would like nothing better than to see you locked up and fined heavily for having anything to do with the pit – don’t give them the satisfaction.

§2156. Animal fighting venture prohibition—Sponsoring or exhibiting animal in any fighting venture (a)It shall be unlawful for any person to knowingly sponsor of exhibit an animal in any animal fighting venture to which any animal was moved in interstate or foreign commerce. Buying, selling, delivering, or transporting animals for animal fighting venture (b)It shall be unlawful for any person to knowingly sell, buy, transport, or deliver to another person of receive from another person for purposes of transportation, in interstate or foreign commerce, any dog or other animal for purposes of having the dog or other animal participate in an animal fighting venture. Use of Postal Service of other interstate instrumentality for promoting or furthering animal fighting venture (c)It shall be unlawful for any person to knowingly use the mail service of the United States Postal Service or any interstate instrumentality for purposes of promoting or in any other manner furthering an animal fighting venture except as performed outside the limits of the States of the United States. Violation of state law (d)Notwithstanding the provisions of subsections (a), (b), or (c) of this sections, the activities prohibited by such subsections shall be unlawful with respect to fighting ventures involving live birds only if the fight is to take place in a state where it would be in violation of the laws thereof. Penalties (e)Any person who violates subsection (a), (b), or (c) of this section shall be fined not more than $5,000 or imprisoned for not more than 1 year, or both, for each violation.

Stratton, Richard F. Foreword. The World of the American Pit Bull Terrier. New York: TFH Publications, 1983. 6-7. Print.

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