#Jiu-Jitsu in The Summer

[tomhardymyking]

One year ago today (happy start of summer, by the way 🏖️), 𝗧𝗼𝗺 posted the story that made me almost have a mini heart attack 💖

That is, in it he said that he was travelling to Spain 💓 At first I didn't understand why but when I saw 𝗞𝗲𝗹𝗹𝘆 I understood that it was to stay for a while and film scenes for 𝑽𝒆𝒏𝒐𝒎: 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑳𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝑫𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 👏🏻

Who knew 𝗧𝗼𝗺 was going to travel to Spain and film a 𝑽𝒆𝒏𝒐𝒎 film 🤭 It was quite a surprise 💥

At first they were in Almería, and then in Murcia, until the actors' strike began 😮

⠀⠀⠀⠀

Hoy, hace un año (feliz comienzo del 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐨, por cierto 🏖️), 𝗧𝗼𝗺 subió la historia que hizo que casi me diera un mini infarto 💖

Es decir, en ella decía que estaba viajando a España 💓 Al principio no entendía porqué pero al ver a 𝗞𝗲𝗹𝗹𝘆 entendí que era para quedarse un tiempo y rodar escenas para 𝑽𝒆𝒏𝒐𝒎: 𝑬𝒍 𝑼𝒍𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒐 𝑩𝒂𝒊𝒍𝒆 👏🏻

Quién iba a pensar que 𝗧𝗼𝗺 iba a viajar a España y para rodar una película de 𝑽𝒆𝒏𝒐𝒎 🤭 Fue toda una sorpresa 💥

Al principio estuvieron en Almería, y después en Murcia, hasta que empezó la huelga de actores 😮

⠀⠀

[hoshiputa]

You're mine

💌 S.Coups x female reader

📩 Request: Toxic jealous S.Coups

cw: nsfw, established relationship, jealous!scoups, slight angst, name calling, exhibitionism, arguing, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal fingering, piv sex, creampie

word count: 2.2k

It all started when your boyfriend called out for you and then stood at the edge of the pool with an open wide towel. It was summer and not cold at all, but you thought it was cute, so you just let Seungcheol wrap you up with the soft fabric.

“What's up, babe?” You asked softly, giving him a quick kiss.

“Nothing, I just wanted you to get out of there.”

You frowned with confusion, your boyfriend shooting deadly stares at every single person out there.

“What? Why?”

When you unwrapped the towel from you to use it to dry your hair, Seungcheol took it and covered you again, impatiently wrapping the towel around your body.

“Cheol…?” You started.

“Why did you have to wear such a tiny bikini?”

“Excuse me?!” You chuckled, towel resting on top of your shoulders. “I was swimming, Seungcheol.”

“But you could be wearing shorts or something,” he argued. “And don't call me Seungcheol.”

Your boyfriend had always been protective over all, but not actually jealous. Most of the time, he just trusted the fact he was a black belt in taekwondo and was training jiu-jitsu if someone ever approached you. Okay, he always had something to say about you wearing revealing or short clothing, but most of the time you just ignored it.

“You wanted me to wear shorts to the pool?”

“Yeah, what's so shocking about it?”

Your boyfriend sighed with frustration, eyebrows furrowed as he ran his hand through his hair, damp from his previous dive. He looked like a sin, exposed chest and swim shorts hanging low from his hips.

“You're just saying anything,” you scoffed, giving him back the towel. “I'm getting a drink.”

“No, I think you should dress up.”

You had just turned your back to walk towards the house, but turned back around after hearing those words.

“What?”

“It's too small,” he said as if it was obvious. “Put on some shorts or change for another bikini.”

“You've got to be fucking kidding me,” you chuckled.

Walking inside the house your boyfriend and his friends rented to spend summer, you went to the kitchen, finding a shirtless Seokmin chopping something by the sink.

“Hey, are you hungry?” He asked as you opened the fridge. “Mingyu is grilling meat. I'm preparing a salad.”

He proudly showed you a bowl full of perfectly chopped lettuce and spinach, thinly sliced cucumbers and purple onions, a wide smile on his face as you popped a soda can.

“Great job,” you gave him a thumbs up. “Should I be scared that you're this good with a knife?”

Seokmin laughed, loud as usual, making you laugh along with him as you stood by his side to watch him cut up something else.

“What's so funny?”

Seungcheol's voice made you sigh, and as he walked inside the kitchen, Seokmin's smile slowly faded as soon as he saw the older man's expression. You turned around to stare at your boyfriend, leaning against the kitchen's sink.

“Seokmin was just talking about his salad,” you said.

“And you're shitting your pants from that?”

“Cheol, we're not gonna do this,” you said firmly. “If you have a problem, say it out loud like an adult.”

“I just said and you turned your back at me,” he argued.

“No, you—”

“Guys,” Seokmin said softly.

“You never listen to me anyway,” Seungcheol shrugged.

“I'll listen if you stop talking nonsense.”

“Nonsense?!” He stepped closer to you, staring into your eyes. “You think it's nonsense?”

“Cheol—”

“Shut up, Seokmin,” he gave his friend a deadly stare. “It's none of your business.”

“Don't talk to him like that,” you said, frowning. “God, what's gotten into you today?!”

“I'll talk to people however the fuck I want.”

Seungcheol was standing just a few inches away from you, eyes fiercely staring into yours.

“Okay, but he doesn't have anything to do with this—”

“Why are you defending him anyways?” Seungcheol got even closer, lips now inches away from yours. “I bet you're getting off from knowing everyone here wants to fuck you, right?”

Your jaw dropped, and you weren't sure if you wanted to cry or punch your boyfriend in the face.

“Dude, what are you saying?” Seokmin was just as shocked as you. “I would never— No one here would ever look at your girlfriend that way.”

“Oh, miss me with the bullshit,” Seungcheol stepped away, turning his back.

Knowing him pretty well, stepping away meant he was trying not to lose his temper.

“I'm actually offended that you think of me that way,” Seokmin said.

“Ignore it, he's just being insane,” you told your friend, turning back to the sink. “Go back to your salad.”

“I'm being insane?” Seungcheol said, sarcastic smile on his face. “Then why is he popping jokes every five minutes to get your attention? It's not the first time today.”

“That's just who I am?” Seokmin said with confusion. “If you don't want anyone here to talk to your girlfriend then you shouldn't have invited her.”

Seungcheol went towards Seokmin, staring into the other's eyes.

“Don't think I won't beat you up just because we're friends,” he threatened. “Keep up with your shit and you'll see what happens.”

“I think you should calm down,” you said, pushing your boyfriend away.

Seokmin stood there motionless, not because he was scared, but because he probably felt betrayed that his long term friend didn't trust him.

When Seungcheol looked at you, he was almost foaming at the mouth as he spoke in between teeth.

“I'll calm down once you get fucking dressed.”

Seungcheol didn't even raise his voice. He didn't have to. If it was anyone else, they would've already pissed their pants and went home crying. But that was your boyfriend for three years now, you knew exactly how things worked with him. So you went to the living room, Seungcheol right behind you.

“They're literally your friends. And everyone has been nothing but respectful—”

“Oh, yeah, I saw how respectfully Wonwoo stared at your ass when you got out of the pool,” he said sarcastically.

“I'm sure he didn't do that.”

“I literally saw it!”

“Okay, whatever, why does it matter?” You shrugged. “It's not like he tried anything or—”

“Why does it matter? You must have lost your fucking mind.” He sneered at you.

“What the fuck are you talking about?!” You said with irritation, voice slightly raising.

“I just don't want them looking at your body.”

“You're fucking crazy,” you said nonchalantly. “We're swimming. It's summer. People wear bikinis.”

“I didn't fucking ask,” Seungcheol looked scarily calm. “Go put on some clothes.”

You laughed sarcastically, still not believing his words.

“I'm not changing just because you're insecure.”

That seemed to make him snap. If his eyes could turn red, they would've. Seungcheol slowly got closer, eyes glued to yours.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

“That's where jealousy comes from. Insecurity,” you shrugged.

Seungcheol grabbed you by the chin, lips inches away from yours.

“Get upstairs.”

You laughed at his face.

“I'm not going anywhere.”

“You're getting upstairs because I fucking told you so,” he spat the words. “Otherwise I'll take you out and fuck you right in front of everyone since you like to show-off so much.”

Your body temperature raised as you stared into your boyfriend's eyes, his words echoing in the back of your head. It was a pattern you had to work on; every time he got angry, it went straight down your pussy, thighs clenching and all.

“Oh, did I upset you, Cheollie?”

Your lips crashed, your boyfriend eager as his hands grabbed tight around your waist, pushing his body against yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck, Seungcheol's hand gripping so tight at your ass it made you moan against his lips.

“Cheol—” You gasped as he sucked at the skin in your neck. “Let's go upstairs—”

“Now you want to go upstairs?”

Seungcheol held tighter around your waist, pushing you against the sofa. You laid down with your heart racing, your boyfriend getting on top of you with a devilish smirk on his lips.

“Wait— What if someone sees us?”

“Isn't that what you want?” He leaned down, lips pressed to your ear. “My pretty little attention whore.”

Shivers went down your spine as he bit on your neck, gasps escaping from your lips and your shaking hands going through his hair. He sucked on your skin hard enough to leave marks, heat growing in between your legs.

“Seriously— Ah!”

Seungcheol had pulled your bikinis top to the sides, exposing your boobs to suck on your nipples.

“Weren't you all over Wonwoo? You won't mind if he sees me sucking your tits, will you?”

“Please— Not here—”

“Wow, you're polite all of a sudden?”

Your boyfriend slipped his hand inside your bikini bottom as you desperately put your top back in place, looking over your head at the giant glass window from where the sun came in and you could see the pool.

Fortunately, they were probably all gathered outside at the table by the grill, but if anyone decided they wanted to go swimming, you'd be fucked. Not in a good way.

“Cheol, what if—”

Seungcheol started rubbing your clit, your cunt getting wet in seconds as you gripped onto his shoulders.

“I'm just gonna show you how insecure I am,” he smirked, fingers brushing at your entrance.

“Let's go—”

You were stopped by your boyfriend untying one side of your bikini bottoms, pulling the rest to the side and exposing you right in the middle of the living room in a house where six other people could walk in at any moment.

“Shit, don't—”

You swallowed dry as Seungcheol started moving down, hands softly caressing your hips before he went down in between your legs, leaving open mouth kisses in your inner thighs.

“Fuck, no…” You moaned, his fingers playing with your cunt.

“Are you scared Seokmin might see us?”

Seungcheol's lips were really close to your cunt when he spoke, his warm breathing hitting against your core, making your toes curl.

“Anyone could see us—”

Your hand almost smacked your mouth when Cheol wrapped his lips around your folds, sucking hard on your clit, slurping your juices. Your legs trembled as you looked up once again, then at the kitchen’s door, waiting for someone to walk in.

Cheol didn't seem to care, wet sounds from his lips against your dripping cunt taking over the room as you pressed your hand tight against your mouth to keep yourself quiet.

“You looked really pretty with this bikini,” his tongue brushed against your entrance. “But your wet pussy looks better. And they can't have it.”

Cheol pushed one of his fingers inside your cunt, softly stretching your entrance. Your back arched, your heart skipping a beat when you heard Mingyu's laugh, followed by Seokmin's high pitched scream.

“Oh, God—” You whispered.

Giving in, you held tight onto your boyfriend's hair, shoving his face harder into your wet cunt to try to make him go faster. Instead of working harder, he simply grabbed one of your calves and placed your leg on top of his shoulder.

With your pussy spread out to him, you let Cheol’s finger fuck into you as his tongue sucked on your clit so hard you felt your soul almost leaving your body.

“Babe— A room—” You whined.

Cheol surprised you by pushing a second finger in, still sucking hard at your clit, heat pooling down your core as you squirmed under him. Losing yourself, you closed your eyes and let him stretch you out, his fingers hitting just right as you gripped onto the sofa's armrest. Cheol’s soft lips felt like heaven, especially when he started moving his head faster.

You just didn't expect him to pull out his cock and shove into you without a warning, his thickness stretching you out so good you let a loud and clear moan escape from your lips.

Desperate, you once again looked around, checking every exit and window, your friends nowhere to be seen.

“What? Want them to watch me fucking you?”

Seungcheol grabbed your chin, making you stare into his eyes, and when you held tight around his neck and wrapped your legs around his hips, it was just you, him, and the adrenaline rushing through your veins. You got lost into the sensation of his thick tip hitting deep, every thrust making you bite hard onto your own lip to keep quiet.

“You're. All. Mine.”

Every pause of his previous words turned into a hard, deep pound, your legs turning into jelly as you opened yourself even more to him. You didn't want to open your eyes, because you were pretty sure you'd end up seeing a crowd watching your boyfriend fuck you into oblivion, anxiety mixing with the feeling of your walls tightening around your boyfriend's big cock.

“Fuck—” You whispered, scratching his back. “Cheol— I'm—”

Your back arched as the wave of pleasure hit you like a punch in the stomach, leaving you breathless and almost paralyzed as Seungcheol started thrusting even harder, your sensitive clit and walls pulsing. You held onto him as you felt Cheol's cock fill you up with his cum, leaking as he kept thrusting until there was nothing left.

“Fuck,” he gasped. “That's what you needed, right?”

Seungcheol grabbed your face, your cheeks squeezed into his hand as he breathed hard while staring deeply into your eyes.

“Never forget you're mine.”

[jewish-vents]

Two vents in one post:

Vent One, the 'oy, goyim' vent: I've been walking a girl home from classes this summer because she is - totally, utterly justifiably - afraid of getting jumped by antisemites en route. People have started to say something or approach and then backed off when they see my 6"4 jiu jitsu and boxing enthusiast self near her. Everyone is so, so ready to throw down when they see a 5"0 Jewish girl who has a giant plushie backpack. The second they realize the fight might be fair, they back up. There's something about that that lays bare just how cowardly bigots truly are and just how divorced from justice this entire thing actually is. It was never, ever about Palestine. It's not about Palestinians. It's about having an excuse to be evil. As we learned in psychology class, power reveals - when you give someone the power to do what they always wanted to do, you see what they've always wanted to do all along, deep down.

Vent two, the 'oy, Yids' vent: It's been a surreal experience for my Bukharan Reform self to be talking to and getting close to an Ashke Orthodox girl daily. At first I thought I was in for more of the snobbery Orthodox people I'd known freshman year gave out. Instead she was really nice from the get-go, just shy, probably because of the height difference and her being an introvert. But talking makes her less anxious so I made an effort to talk. Somehow over the summer we ended up falling for each other, which is wild since I have never been attracted to a single person in my life, but I digress.

Her parents are furious at her for walking with me and not walking with a "proper" or "appropriate" person. They don't know we're dating. They don't consider me Jewish. And it's so baffling to me because... well, to be blunt, life sucks right now. It's awful. If we can be happy together and make each other laugh and smile, who gives a damn about Orthodox vs Reform, Ashke vs Bukharan? Can we please just, as Jewish people, be a united people in terms of being nice to one another and letting people live their lives? I cannot emphasize enough that we walk together, we sometimes get lunch together and we go to the museum together - nothing sinister. Nothing horrifically goy-ifying that'll turn their daughter less Jewish somehow.

At the risk of sounding whiny I just want to be able to walk with her and exchange stories about dumb stuff our cats do without anyone acting like it's a sin. I just want to be able to exist with someone Jewish happily and peacefully. I don't think anything bad is going to come from that.

.

[lisbeth-kk]

May Prompts (19) Weather

The Luckiest Girl in the World (chapter 19)

Summary: Rosie is heartbroken. Sherlock and John are furious and sad. An invitation from the elderly Holmes couple, brings back sweet memories, and might be just what the doctor ordered.

Nineteen Years Old

I was devastated and utterly heartbroken when David ended it with me. We’d been a couple for almost a year, and I was still so in love with him. I had failed to observe, had let sentiment cloud my mind, lulling me into a fantasy coated in pink and gold.

I wasn’t the only one affected by this. Dad muttered curses under his breath, while Papa alternated between fury and sorrow. He blamed himself for not seeing who David really was; a young man, too insecure about himself, needing female attention around the clock, which I was unwilling to give. I had my studies, homework, jiu jitsu, family, and my friends to consider as well, and I hadn’t wanted to spend every spare minute with David no matter how much I loved him. In my opinion, I couldn’t be blamed for needing to see other people, whom I also loved, and to maintain my interests. It was part of who I was. Nevertheless, I cried myself to sleep every night to the tones of Papa’s soothing violin.

***

The next weeks went by in a daze, though I managed to study for my upcoming exams, much thanks to the sessions in the dojo, which helped clear my mind of the fog. Finally, the last exam was history and the summer lay ahead of me like a blank canvas. Me and David’s plans for going to Dublin, were obviously abandoned. Luckily, our flight tickets and hotel reservations were refundable.

Congratulations with finishing your exam, love! Are you free to have dinner at home tonight?

Dad’s request piqued my interest, as he most likely knew it would. I had no plans and answered in the affirmative. 

The day was sunny and pleasantly warm, which I felt always was the case when I had to sit inside a poorly ventilated classroom to pour all my wisdom into the exam forms.

“Let’s go to get ice cream,” I proposed to Liwia and Leyla who accompanied me out of the old school building.

“Covent Garden?” Leyla asked.

“Covent Garden,” Liwia and I agreed.

***

“How are you, Bee?” Papa asked when I returned home a few hours later. 

“Not that bad actually. Glad to get the exams over with,” I said.

“Chocolate chips and raspberry,” Papa stated out of nowhere.

“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” I muttered fondly.

“I guess not,” he admitted a bit sheepishly. “Sorry, if that…”

“It’s fine, Papa,” I assured him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Is Dad cooking or is it takeaway tonight?”

“Neither. I am cooking,” he informed me, cupped my face and kissed my forehead.

“Oh! Must be a special occasion, then,” I teased.

He huffed and told me I could help instead of being sassy. I laughed, went upstairs with my school bag and changed into a pastel green dress. When I came back, Papa ordered me to make a vinaigrette and the salad. We worked in companionable silence, while classical music streamed out of the speakers.

***

“My compliments to the chefs,” Dad sighed contentedly when he’d all but licked his plate.

Papa and I stood and bowed, making lavish and silly gestures. The white wine made us pliant and relaxed. I hadn’t realised how much I’d missed sharing a lovely meal with my parents. In the last months, David had always been a part of it, or at least occupied a fair amount of my thoughts. And in that moment, I felt something heavy fall from my chest. I was free and had a whole summer ahead of me to do with as I pleased without having to consult David if he approved, wanted to be a part of my plans and what not.

“So, what’s all this about?” I asked.

Papa smirked, seemingly satisfied that I hadn’t been fooled about the intent of this dinner. 

“As clever as your Papa, aren’t you?” Dad praised. “I would expect no less.”

He straightened in his seat and leant forward to catch Papa’s hand. Papa nodded and turned to face me properly.

“Granny and Pops have invited us to France next week. They obviously didn’t include you because of your initial plans with…”

Papa clenched his teeth and gripped Dad’s hand tighter.

“It’s fine, Papa. I’m getting there. No need to call in the cavalry,” I assured him and stroked his arm. “Tell me more. I haven’t been there in ages.”

“When you were eleven, I think,” Dad mused.

“Twelve,” Papa corrected him, which earned him a kiss to the back of his hand from Dad and a giggle from me.

***

The house Papa’s Grand-Mère originally owned, had been inherited by Granny. A small villa close to Cannes. Théoule-sur-Mer was secluded and far less crowded than the more famous sites of the French Riviera. 

Being back brought treasured memories to mind. The warm and sunny weather, how Dad taught me to swim, Papa taking me snorkelling looking for exotic sea species, Pops reading The Little Prince in French, while simultaneously translating each paragraph, Granny’s coq-au-vin, quiche Lorraine and bouillabaisse. If there was any hint left of my heartbreak, it evaporated the second I dived into the crystal-clear water.

Also available on AO3

@calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @helloliriels @raina-at

More tags in the replies

[marcobodtlives]

AoT peeps as fellow students I saw at orientation for my masters degree today:

Mikasa: the girl with really pretty hair and fashionable gothic attire despite the fact that it’s summer

Eren: the boy getting attacked by a spur-winged plover (aggressive swampy bird) because he cut across the field to get to class

Armin & Historia: the pair of short, enthusiastic, blonde orientation staff waving signs and helping everyone find their classes (they’re godsends)

Annie: the girl who missed half of the welcoming ceremony because student jiu jitsu club ran over time

Bertholdt: the really, really tall kid who the camera operator had to manoeuvre around to actually capture the stage

Reiner: the guy convincing everyone to join sport club teams, not wearing student staff uniform, wearing his gym gear instead

Ymir: the girl who drove in the ‘exit only’ because she couldn’t be assed doing a U-turn to find the main entrance

Jean: the art kid who isn’t invested because they’re only taking one filler paper here, and all the rest at the art-based, city campus

Marco: the really friendly boy making friends with everyone he talks to and somehow managing to relieve everyone’s anxiety with an encouraging smile and thumbs up during awkward ice-breakers

Connie: the kid who forgot to take his hat off during the religious welcoming ceremony then almost tripped over a chair because he was trying to find himself on the wide-screen shot of the crowd

Sasha: the girl eating three cough drops a minute because ‘they don’t count as food so the no eating in the assembly hall rule doesn’t apply’

Erwin: the principal who’s speech went 20 minutes over time and spanned three different languages somehow

Hange: the lab tech who brought a box of jars for new students to see as a show-and-tell session instead of an actual introduction to the course

Levi: the admin person who doesn’t actually have a clear job role but decided to ditch his session as an orientation because he hates new students wandering around like lost sheep

(+ bonus) Floch: the kid who threw a rock at an automatic sprinkler and accidentally sprayed a line of construction workers on lunch break and then yelled “this is where our tax money goes!”

[memories-of-ancients]

"Oh you do weightlifting? 300 lb deadlift, wow be careful you're going to destroy your back! Very light weights and more reps ya know! You swim too? Swimming is good for you. I swim everyday with my pool floatie. Oh you do some cycling in the summer that sounds fun! Yoga before bed? That's a great time to do yoga! You've been doing Jiu Jitsu for seven years? Is that like Karate? My 8 year old granddaughter just got her black belt in Karate. What's wrong with your ears? Is that from all the weight you're lifting? Do you do any walking? Oh you need to do more walking! It's the best exercise of all! Stop lifting weights and do more walking!"

FFS why do all these people think they need to give me training advice about things they have no clue about. Why do 50 and 60 year old Karens feel like they need to give me advice about weight lifting when they probably never lifted anything heavier than a small child in their entire lives!

AND why is walking the end all be all of fitness!!??? I do about a half dozen different activities, some of them very grueling and demanding exercises, AND ITS ALL FOR NOUGHT BECAUSE I DONT TAKE A LIGHT WALK EVERYDAY!!!!!! 😡

[indian-kahani]

Desi LGBT+ Fest 2023

@desi-lgbt-fest

Day 2: Legacy

All her life, Durga had been told that she was a good daughter.

All through school, she had been called a ‘pleasure to teach’. Students regarded her with wary awe: she was the good girl, who did her homework and listened to the teacher and never, ever stepped a foot out of line.

All my life, her father had told her, “Beti, you have to be a good girl. Strike that – you have to be the best. There are many eyes watching us.”

He was right, of course. He was a major army lieutenant – Arjit Sindh, a household name for his medals and bravery. Ever since Durga was a child, she had watched him salute the tricolour every morning, watched his juniors (and god, there were lots of them) salute to him.

While others dreamed of being artists and musicians, she dreamed of her first day holding a rifle.

While others looked up to Abdul Kalam or Lata Mangeshkar, her walls were covered in photos of Gunjan Saxena, Vikram Batra, everyone who had ever won the Param Vir chakra.

She had a legacy to inherit, a place to fill.  

Her dreams may have been out of place, but they were in vivid technicolour none the less. She faced up to her dream with a steady heart.

Her father approved, and watched from a distance as the Indian Army became entrenched deep inside her heart.

She had always followed in his footsteps. The golden girl she might have been, but she was a golden girl you shouldn’t mess with. She had always been raised to be a loyal servant of the army, the loyal servant of her country.

As her father's daughter, she was proud to uphold his legacy.

Karate, Jiu Jitsu, yoga, junior boot camp. Durga was signed up for all of it, and every summer she trained without fail.

On her eighteenth birthday, she joined the army. What else could she do? I mean, it had been her dream for as long as she could remember. She hit it out of the park. She had been training to assemble a gun since she was sixteen. The other recruits were no match for her.

They were playing for glory (or so she thought).

She was playing for honour.

Or was she?

Durga saw her first at her graduation ceremony.

Her name was before Durga’s.

“Sharma, Saranika!”

Saranika. Such a beautiful name.

All of a sudden, she was reminded of her childhood when her mother sang beautiful Hindustani music. That was what Saranika Sharma's name reminded Durga of.

“Sindh, Durga!”

She snapped out of she reverie, and walked onto the stage, determined to forget the girl with the beautiful name.

-

Months passed. Promotion after promotion came her way. Talent, or nepotism? Who knew? Slowly but surely, she was becoming jaded. Life seemed grey and joyless, and even at the young age of twenty-one, the lines under her eyes were becoming more and more pronounced.

The day was an ordinary one – so mundane that Durga didn’t even read over the details, instead preferring to wing the training exercise. She was assigned two officers to help out. Major Raj Kuldeep and Major Saranika Sharma.

…wait, what?

She re-read the document again, eyes alight. Major Saranika Sharma.

Almost unbidden, her mind flashed back to that day, when she had heard her name but didn’t see her face. Durga’s heart stumbled at just the thought, secretive smile stretching her lips open. It hurt – maybe the first time she had smiled in days, weeks even.

She arrived at the training exercise fifteen minutes early, pretending to be absorbed in the details of the exercise.

An officer arrived, and saluted in front of her. “Ma’am!”

From the evidently male voice, her hopes were dashed already. She looked up. “Major Kuldeep.” She inclined her head in recognition, and the man smiled at her tightly. It was a regulation army smile – deferent and not too intimate.

“I believe Officer Sharma will be arriving in a few minutes, ma’am.” He informed, and she nodded, returning to her papers to hide the thumping of her heart.

Why was I feeling this way? The thought hit her all of a sudden, but she didn’t have time to process it.

She had arrived.

“Ma’am, it’s good to finally meet you.” she deferred from the standard greeting, and she looked up.

She was beautiful. My God, she was beautiful. Her cinnamon skin looked so soft, and Durga fought to tear her eyes off of her prominent collarbones-

Durga’s eyes widened as she hastily raised her eyes to meet her face.

She instantly regretted it. Wide, honest eyes, full lips, and a gorgeously sharp jawline.

Before she could say something she would regret, she greeted her. “Major Sharma, may I ask why?” Hints of curiosity pricked at her. She wanted to unravel every secret of this Saranika’s, big and small.

Saranika met her gaze with the barest hint of a challenge in the way she raised her chin. “Who wouldn’t want to meet the prodigy of the army?” she smiled with a small shrug. Major Kuldeep was watching, slack-jawed, at the casual way Major Sharma was addressing Durga, but the women had only eyes for each other.

“I hardly believe I’m a prodigy.” The words slipped out before Durga could change them, and she disguised the raw honesty in them with a short laugh. “Hard work gets you far, Major Sharma.”

Suddenly, she wanted to get as far away from this enchanting woman as possible. She could feel her back prickle with sweat and she could swear her face was heating up.

“I don’t doubt it, ma’am.” Saranika – no, she was Major Sharma, when had Durga started addressing her so casually? – replied promptly. “Talent can only get you so for before you need more to take you further.”

Durga ended the conversation with a clipped nod, checking the watch on her wrist. “We had best be going.” She turned to Kuldeep, who snapped to attention. “At ease.”

She finished the training in a daze, dismissing the recruits five minutes early with an uneasy frown on her face. Rumours were flying around that the infamous Durga Sindh had something on her mind. She heeded none of it as she headed to the mess hall to eat lunch.

Almost out of instinct, she scanned the hall for Saranika, finally noticing her tucked away in the back of the hall.

She sent her a note to come and eat with her in her office. Saranika arrived five minutes later.

Durga gestured for her to sit down. “I was impressed with your performance in the training exercise today, Major Sharma.” Bullshit. She hadn’t paid attention to even a single second of that training exercise.

Saranika ducked her head shyly, a strand of hair falling forward, and Durga resisted the urge to lean forward and tuck it behind her ear. “Thankyou, ma’am. I appreciate it.”

“Call me Durga. No need for formalities in my office.” She blurted out, cursing herself immediately as the words slipped out. That seemed to happen a lot around her.

Saranika looked up suddenly, startled. “I couldn’t possibly be so… informal, ma’am.” She hesitated.

“I insist.” Durga said.

“Very well, then… Durga-ji.”

-

From then on, it only got better. Lunch turned into days off, days off turned into weekends until finally, Durga worked up the courage.

“I- I wanted- what I meant to say was- the thing is- will you be my girlfriend?”

The sight of her then, with her hair loose and framing her face, was enough for Durga to plant a chaste kiss on the cheek of her girlfriend.

Only one thing was left.

Durga had to tell her father, a strict adherent to tradition and principles, that she was a lesbian.

-

“Papa… I met someone.”

She had phrased it carefully enough, hesitating over each and every word. Her father, aged but no less sharp, looked at her (or through her, it seemed sometimes).

“That’s lovely, beti.” His old face creased in a smile. “Bring him home this weekend, hm?”

There it was. Durga opened her mouth and closed it again, pressing her lips together in shame of her own cowardice. Her father was watching.

“He’s a Hindu, right? Not a Muslim? It’s okay if he is, as long as he’s respectful to you.” Her father tried to reassure her seeing her distress, and tears fell down Durga’s cheeks.

“She’s not a boy!” she burst out all of a sudden, hiding her face in her hands as she heard her father’s small intake of breath. Water dripped from her eyes, wetting her hands and falling in droplets onto the cold marble times.

“Accha, I see.” Her father leaned forward in his chair, wiping Durga’s tears away. “Bring her home this weekend, hm? I hope she’s pretty.”

Durga couldn’t do anything much more than stare. “You’re- you’re okay with this? But people will-”

He let out a deep chuckle. “The world has changed since I was young, Durga.” He smiled down on her fondly. “You young people are teaching us that it is okay to love whoever you love. There are people out there like you and your girlfriend, right?”

Durga nodded, open-mouthed. “But- papa- you- I’m a lesbian.”

He waved her away, a mock frown on his face. “Of course I know that now. I’m not stupid. Bring that girl home on Saturday, and I will see what food we can get for her. Leave it to me.”

Yes, her father followed tradition. Yes, he had his legacy to uphold, and his honour. But he was a man of good sense, and the world was changing after all. Why not see what good it could bring?

---------

Okay so I know nothing about the military, literally nothing so the ranks/greetings/whatever might be off, please suspend disbelief while reading :D and tell me what you think in reblogs/comments!

[ashlingnarcos]

blood on vacation

David Barrón/F!Reader

written for @narcosfandomdiscord's smut alphabet, namely the July 2 prompt blood

tags: fistfight, absolutely unhinged preoccupation with bloody knuckles, fingering, oral sex

warnings: blood, probably unsanitary, reader is an OFC (Sabrina Tanaka), violence, this was not beta read and it kind of sucks ngl

length: 1.8k words

You’ve only been Mexico City for a week, and you’re already all vacationed out. It’s not Marcela’s fault. The two of you make no sense as friends—she, the trust fund kid formerly known as Marcelo who initially met you at your dad’s jiu jitsu academy, currently partying her way across the globe with an increasingly dodgy set of cousins, exes, and assorted other rich vagabonds, and then you, the standoffish sparring tutor forever known as Mr. Tanaka’s kid, with an unhealthy penchant for taking your skills to street wanderings, just to see if you could. She was whimsical and merry, spiritually curious and given to bouts of dangerously committed romantic pining, and you were stolid and practical and highly suspicious of anyone as eager to please as a car salesman, much less a preacher or supposed future lover. The one similarity between the two of you is that you both were born and raised in São Paulo, and could both kick hard enough to break bones. But the rest? Pure opposites attract chemistry. 

She’s been generous on this trip, doing the rich girl thing in splendid style, and footing the bill for your part completely. She translates for you whenever she sees you getting lost—Brazilian Portuguese is similar enough to Mexican Spanish that you can kinda sorta understand what people are saying if they’re saying it slowly and doing overtime with the nonverbal cues—and does it naturally, not like it’s a chore or an opportunity to show off. She introduces you to her club kid friends with excitement, like she’s showing them someone really cool. She’s a sweetheart, Marcela is, and you’re more than happy to wingwoman her into a spot sitting on the lap of some baby narco named Ramón. But the good food aside, you’re still so alienated and bored that when a fistfight breaks out in the club, it come as a welcome change of pace.

There’s broken glass on the ground—Ramón’s older sister smashed a bottle over somebody’s head, good for her—so no ground fighting for you. And there’s too many people around to dedicate yourself to a hold. So you fall back on a motley bag of street fighting tricks, plus what you learned from a misspent summer at a boxing club, mostly just trying to stay upright and get your licks in where you can. It’s all fun and games until one of them slaps you, open palm. A punch would’ve been fine, but this? You hit his nose with the base of your palm, driving up to break it, then follow that up with a jab. Not satisfied yet, you sweep one of his feet out from under him, shove hard, and finally get him on the ground (broken glass be damned) in a hold that has him gasping fruitlessly for oxygen, his neck in the crook of your arm, his body trying to wriggle round and find an angle at which his elbow shots to your ribs will actually mean something. Unfortunately for him, when you’re pissed off, you could take it all the way to fully broken ribs and not care. Fortunately for him, nobody there actually wants anyone to die, so after a bit, several people pull you off him. One of them is Marcela, so you give it up. The fight has died down anyways; both sides are separating into bloodstained, wary-eyed groups. 

Keeping steady eye contact with the man who slapped you, you lift your bloody-knuckled hand to your mouth, part your lips, and lick a long stripe of his blood off your skin. Slow and intentional and savagely self-satisfied. 

As you turn to talk to Marcela, ask her where the bathrooms are so you can clean yourself up a little (Ramón is already yelling about partying the whole night through, and Marcela seems completely unruffled, so you doubt you’re all about to leave now), you catch a glimpse of something. Everyone here is preoccupied with their injuries, or other people’s, or the retreating crowd of interlopers, except for one man who seems to have witnessed your last threat. He’s dressed a little different than the others, in an oversized polo shirt. You remember getting a glimpse of him in the fight, thinking you might need to take him on next and grimly assessing that prospect as a dangerous one before he easily elbowed a guy who was heading for Ramón’s brother. So he’s not useless, and he’s not easily cowed. Just now, he’s looking back at your challenge of a glance with a flat-eyed expression that you can’t quite parse.

Hm.

No language in common and barely any friends, but you wanted a kill and you didn’t get one, and here’s another man. You’ll have to make do with another kind of death.

.

.

.

Inside the club bathroom, he hooks his fingers over the top of your jeans and tugs you forwards a couple inches. Commanding, but not a threat. Not trying to make you stumble, just getting you that much closer.

Regarding him with a curious, almost lazy look, you’re almost inclined to let him have his way, but then, as he goes to unbutton your jeans, his knuckles smear blood along your stomach. You close your hands over his wrists, and he pauses. 

“Go wash your hands,” you say, slow and clear, lave as mãos. And he gets it.

You know he gets it, because he looks down at your hands, your bruised, swollen, bloody hands, and then back up at you in a way that makes his blank expression rather pointed. Oh, does the international man of mystery have a sense of humor after all?

“Do it,” you say, faça isso. That must not be close enough to Spanish, because he frowns a little. You give up. 

You pull his hands out of your jeans, feeling a shiver go through you at the friction, and then you let go of him, walk over to the sink, and turn on the tap. As you lean back against it, the countertop digs into your thighs, suggestive. The dull pulsing thump of the club music outside gives the tiny bathroom a cloistered, cocooned quality. His dark eyes meet yours evenly. 

You don’t move, don’t so much as lift an eyebrow. Silent. Yeah?

Yeah. He takes a couple steps forward and washes his hands, and as he does so he mutters something to himself in yet another language, English, maybe. As he dries his hands, he smiles. It’s a wry, private smile. 

Two can play at that game. In your mediocre, third-generation Japanese, you say, “I have every intention of eating you whole” in exactly the same voice another woman might’ve said something sexy.

As he steps towards you, you could swear he says something that sounds like gostaria, dangerously close to I would like that, almost like he understands you.

You decide: no more talking.

Zero to a hundred. He tastes like beer and you, unfortunately, can’t get enough; your hands cup the back of his head, his neck, fingertips digging in as he finally unbuttons your jeans and shoves them and your panties down your thighs in one impatient motion. You could hop up onto the countertop, but why do that? This way is so much better, his wet hands gripping your ass, the swift coolness of droplets sliding down the back of your thighs, the low grunt he makes when he lifts you. 

“Sorry, was that hard for you?” you say, but he’s two steps ahead of you. Got his palms warm on the inside of your knees, spreading your thighs and catching sight of just how wet you are for him. It’s his turn to be smug, clearly, but you can’t even be mad at it when he wears that smile so well. 

He gets on his knees. 

You should’ve known it’d be like this from the second you caught his eye in the aftermath of the fight. You really should’ve known, but it still punches an unwanted sound out of you, a small sound in the back of your throat, when he gets his face between your thighs in seconds, no hesitation, and starts to lick your cunt like it’s ice cream and he’s starving. 

With the countertop digging into your legs and the mirror hard against the back of your head, your body throbbing with new bruises, you have no right to feel this good, but you do. With your fingers sunk into his hair and your eyes half-lidded, you feel like you could melt and slip right down that drain. For his part, he’s got you just how he wants you, with your legs parted wide to accommodate the width of his shoulders, his right forearm a bar across your belly. You have no fucking idea how or why he’s doing this—men who see you gone full destroyer don’t usually think to themselves, I want to make her feel good, they tend to think along much darker lines. They want to dominate you, and you get what fun you can out of the process of denying them that. But this? He got on his knees like it was his first choice. You do not know what this is, but you’ll take it. He slips a finger inside you, and you’re so wet that it barely burns at all. Two fingers. Fuck. He leans his weight into your stomach, across your thighs, to stop you from bucking up into his mouth, and that’s—that’s fair. It’s all you can do not to whimper, and your heavy panting sounds desperate enough. Three fingers and you do whimper.

He looks up, and you’re already bracing yourself, but no. There’s no sneer in it; there’s something else. All night, this nameless man has been quiet, unnoticeable, and then, once noticed,  mysterious, but now you see him. The first look is caution, but the second? The second is all appreciation, like he could drink the sight. 

That look hits you hard. You close your eyes, because you don’t want to see it, don’t know what the hell to do with it, and choose instead to sink deep into the sensations in your body as he wrings you out. A wave of euphoria hits you as you come, and it’s just the body, you know it’s just the body, but when it’s over and he has his chin propped up on your thigh, both of you looking exhausted, neither of you done, you get the weirdest urge to push his sweat-damp hair off his forehead. Little killer, you want to say. Damn near affectionate. (It’s just the body.)

.

.

.

The cops arrive at the club before you can manage to return the favor, and Marcela hates all interactions with the cops with a flaming passion, so you have to get her out even though in all likelihood Ramón will just have to flash them a medium-size wad of bills. Later, though, when you can, you confess all (most) of the strange encounter to her, and she gets the message out to him. Through which of the tiny terrors, you don’t want to know. Probably Ramón, a thought that does not fill you with confidence. But he gets the message anyway.

The message is: I owe you one.

[occhiolissimo]

@inception30daychallenge

Day 26: Which summer Olympic sport would each character compete in? 

Ariadne: Sport climbing, and breaking all the records in her first Olympics. Spider-Man be calling her for tips.

Robert: Lacrosse, and he plays like Regina George.

Cobb & Mal: Badminton mixed doubles. They'd be so mesmerising to watch. Mal is the queen of jump smash, and Cobb is a killer at fakeouts.

Arthur: Diving. Not only he's impeccable at his techniques, he films them and makes video tutorials for his 600k followers.

Yusuf: Canoe slalom. So underrated, and yet the toughest sport out there. Only someone as cool and unhinged as Yusuf can take this on.

Saito: Volleyball, hands down. It's like watching the most vicious dance, where every serve is a cannon shot and every spike is a lightning strike. There's a relentless intensity to the game that fits him so well.

Eames: Judo. I saw the Tom Hardy jiu-jitsu photos and I think there are a lot of similarities between the two sports.

[the-blind-assassin-12]

if you get this, answer w/ three random facts about yourself and send it to the last seven blogs in your notifs. anon or not, doesn’t matter, let’s get to know the person behind the blog !

Hi Jen!! Happy Fri-yay!! I hope your weekend gets kicked off to a great start! Thank you for sending this my way, these are always fun!

Random Fact #1 - I love learning languages. I know a decent amount of Spanish and am currently learning Portuguese. Once I feel like I pick up enough to use context clues, I like to watch shows or movies in a different language to see how well I can pick up on what's being said. I most recently watched 30 Coins on HBO without the English dubbing. (side note, if you like religious horror I 110% recommend that show. Season 1 was really good.) Next up is Paradise.

Random Fact #2 - I have a green thumb. I grew up in New Jersey and our state nickname is the Garden State and I think when I learned that as a child I took it as a responsibility to garden. I have 15 house plants (in a one bedroom apartment) and every summer I overload my balcony with tomatoes, peppers and herbs. I actually just started my seeds a few days ago! Last year we had so many peppers that at the end of the season, I dehydrated them all to use as chili flakes and we still have half the jar.

Random Fact #3 - I have my blue belt in Brazilian Jiu Jitsu. Unfortunately I had to stop training about two years ago because I was dealing with injuries and health issues, but someday I hope to be able to get back to it. As a former marathoner, I can honestly say that training BJJ was the most intense workout I ever had in my life. I miss the adrenaline of "getting into fights" (sparring) and would love to get back in competition shape again. (Bonus fun fact, I won the Colorado state championship for my weight class in 2016) Occasionally I still dream in triangle chokes. Every now and then I slap a choke on my little brother (he's a foot taller than me) just to remind him that I can whip his ass.

[dykehayleywilliams]

taylor york if he ever saw the things we say about hayley on tumblr dot com

[megidonitram]

Everyone's Running From Something (ch.2)

A Baldur's Gate 3 University Professor AU

Rating: M

Quick Summary: Astarion and Gale are two University English professors precariously mentoring a troubled 19-year-old and falling in love.

💖Main Pairing : BloodWeave,(Astarion/Gale) 💕Side Pairings: Shadowheart/Nocturne, Karlach/Dammon, Wyll/The Dark Urge, Tav/Tav 💔Past Pairings: Gale/Mystra, Astarion/Sebastian, Astarion/Tav

<== Previous Chapter | Master List | Ao3 | Next Chapter =>

**Please see Master List Entry for Full Content Warnings**

⏰Chapter Warning⏰

Institutional discrimination against a person with a mental disability | sexual coercion | implied: self-harm | referenced: suicide attempt | referenced: involuntary commitment | referenced: murder.

Gale was happy to share an office with someone, even if Astarion didn’t seem too thrilled about it. Having another soul haunting the space made him feel slightly less lonely.

Minsc stuck around for a little while to help shelve books and chat about students. It turned out that both of the English department’s graduating seniors were into martial sports. Wyll (Spelled with a ‘y’) Ravengard was an English and secondary education major and was the captain of the school’s fencing team, and Lae’zel -Minsc couldn’t recall her last name- was a sports communications and exercise science double major with an English minor wrestled, kick-boxed, and did jiu-jitsu (she seemed like she was going to be incredibly intense).

Minsc didn’t bring up Xenia again, and Gale didn’t ask, even if he was desperately curious. Because she deserved the dignity of meeting new people without letting her past actions color their perception of her. After all, it wasn’t like she was dangerous. Surely, they wouldn’t let her back on campus if that was the case.

An hour or so went by, and Minsc had to leave for a meeting, and Astarion still hadn’t returned. Gale hoped everything was okay. He seemed genuinely angry when he left. Shadowheart had made an off-handed comment about how Astarion was department chair because he was a “law school type who refused to lose even the pettiest argument,” but this seemed like a far more intense situation than just squabbling over a textbook requirement.

Gale tried logging on to his work computer to see if his credentials were active yet- nothing. Six days out from the start of class, and he still didn’t have access to a work email or his class roster… maybe he should get Astarion to yell at someone in IT next.

The heat kicked on, and the naked air vent overhead made a shrill grinding noise and shuttered as it belched rubber-scented hot air into the room. That was unpleasant. Gale tried to distract himself by arranging things on his desk, but all he could think about was how many fewer picture frames he had to put out now. He had never considered this aspect of divorce before… how many of his family photos he couldn’t bear to look at anymore. He had precisely three pictures now: the old Sears portrait of his parents they’d used for his dad’s obituary, a popsicle stick and pom-pom framed picture of his niece on a zipline at summer camp, and a picture of his cat Tara as a kitten curled up cozy in the dirty linen basket. He would have to ask his sister to look through her family photos to see if she’d kept any without Mystra in them.

“I… um- did Dr. Ancunín change offices?”

Gale nearly jumped out of his skin- he hadn’t even heard the door to the stairwell open. He looked up to see a young woman with a jagged scar across one cheek and the blackest eyes Gale had ever seen slumped tentatively in the doorway like she thought she might be trespassing. She was sickly pale with long dark hair thrown into a half-hazard lopsided bun on the top of her head and her right arm secured firmly against her abdomen in a mesh grey shoulder sling.

“No! no, this is still his office. We’re just sharing the space.”  Gale replied. “I’m Dr. Dekarios.” He stood to shake her hand, reaching out with the wrong hand and quickly correcting.

The young woman gave him a suspicious look as if she expected him to already know who she was. “Xenia…” She said flatly. “Do you know when he’s going to be back?”

“I think he should be back shortly.” Gale checked his watch- he’d have to be back soon; they were supposed to be at a staff meeting in 30 minutes. “You’re welcome to wait here for him- unless it’s something I can help you with.”

“It’s not,” Xenia replied. She sat down in the plastic chair in front of Astarion’s desk and started scrolling through something on her phone.

Gale tried not to take her short answers personally. It didn’t seem like she was in a particularly good headspace. “Xenia’s a pretty name. Greek, isn’t it?” He felt weird just ignoring her, especially since he had nothing else he could be doing right now.

She gave him a long, blank stare before she answered. “I guess. I haven’t thought about my name much- my father named me, and he’s… ah, not around to ask.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” Gale said. “Were the two of you close?”

Xenia’s lips upturned in disgust. She looked past Gale to study the cracks in the wall’s plaster, and he sensed he made a horrible mistake even before she spoke. “I killed my father.” The words were as casual as if she were commenting on the weather “Stabbed him in the neck with a box cutter.”

Gale laughed nervously, at first thinking -hoping even- that she was just making a bad attempt at a dark joke. But she just watched him with a bored malaise, as if this was a story she’d told a hundred times and was very tired of telling it.

The horror of her confession slowly started to set in.

***

Astarion took the steps up to the administration building two at a time. Most of the administration was housed in the only original building on campus: a large pink granite monolith with some vaguely Grecian architectural flourishes that was meant to evoke the splendid “grandeur” of higher education- though now it mainly just served to make sure people where out of breath when they came to sort out their finances. The building unsettled him. The whole place creaked and groaned at the slightest movement, like it was going to fall apart under his weight at any given moment.

He threw open the heavy oak doors at the main entrance, but his theatrics were met with dead silence. Most of the hourly staff hadn’t returned from their holiday break, so the main floor was empty, and the ancient elevator in the back of the building was still out of order, so Astarion had to climb the narrow staircase up the provost’s office on the third floor. Astarion knew for a fact he would be here by now -the fucking micromanager wouldn’t take a day off to save his life- he could smell his cologne underneath the antique smell of wood lacquer.

The secretary at the front desk perked up a bit as Astarion crested the stairs but her smile strained when she realized it was him. “Astarion, how are you today?” She asked. Her voice was just a touch too loud, like she was trying to warn someone in the other room that he was here.

“I’m just fine, Korrilla.” Astarion snapped as he stormed past her into the bank of offices beyond.

“Oh, Raphiel isn’t available right-” Slam!

Astarion burst into the provost’s office before she could finish her sentence. Raphael swiveled around in his desk chair, his office phone pressed to his ear, looking miffed but not the least bit surprised to see Astarion standing in front of him. He held up a finger bidding Astarion to wait as he spouted a series of ‘yes’s, ‘no’s, and ‘understood’s to whoever was on the other line.

Astarion leaned over and pressed the phone’s switch hook, disconnecting the call.

“You’re certainly wasting no time to start being a nuisance this semester, Dr. Ancunín.” Raphael spat as he slammed the phone’s handset back into its cradle. He was seething, but he’d never willingly admit it. “Could you not even wait for classes to start?”

Astarion ignored him. “Why was Xenia Bellona’s petition for deferment rejected?”

Raphael paused, an amused smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth for a split second. He evidently thought this was going to be about office space. “I’m afraid that’s proprietary information.”

Astarion slammed his fist down on Raphael’s desk hard enough to make his computer monitor rattle. “Is it proprietary, or do you not have a good excuse for forcing a 19-year-old girl to come back to school less than a month after she was involuntarily committed?”

“Now, Dr. Ancunín, there’s no need to let passions run so hot.” Raphael seized back control over the conversation, tutting at Astarion like he was a belligerent child. “You’ve been in academia for a very long time, surely this isn’t your first pet lost cause.”

It was all Astarion could do not to lunge across the desk. “So, she’s not giving you the marketable little success story you were promised, and you’re going to hang her out to dry.”

“Not at all. Miss Bellona still has access to every mental health resource Balduran University has to offer, but she isn’t entitled to any special treatment from the administration just because she’s had a hard go of it.”

Astarion ran his tongue over the top row of his teeth. “Deferring a student's education because they are seeking mental health treatment isn’t special treatment.”

“I agree with you, and if Miss Bellona had presented disability services with a documented history of mental health struggles, we likely could have done more for her. Unfortunately, without documentation, my hands are tied.”

That was a fucking lie. Part of the appeal of private universes was that they were far less beholden to the public in their decision-making, so it was much easier to bend the rules. “Does a 5150 form not count as documentation?”

 “You would have to yell at disability services for a more comprehensive answer, but I believe it counts as a point of history, but not a documented history,” Raphael replied.

“Couldn’t an involuntary commitment infer a history of mental health concerns?”

“In some circumstances, I’m sure it would.”

“But not this one?”

“She is more than welcome to contest the decision if she feels she has been wrong, but you do not have any right or responsibility to be demanding things on her behalf.” Raphael spat, looking down his nose at Astarion. “If you wanted to be anything more than that girl’s English professor, you shouldn’t have dropped out of law school.”

Astarion bristled but regained his composure, quickly seizing on that little pearl of knowledge Raphael had let slip. “Excellent. Can you let me know what steps she needs to take to make a contentment? Better yet, why don’t you get me whatever forms she needs to fill out, and I’ll take them to her.”

“Dr. Ancunín, that’s hardly necessary. If she has a problem with the administration’s decision, she can tell us herself.” Raphiel turned to his computer and pretended to browse his email.

“Is it not pertinent job information? Shouldn’t I know how the school’s bureaucratic channels work? What if I have another student in the future who has questions?”

Raphael glared up at him. “If I email you the paperwork, will you get out of my office?”

“Hmm… no.” Astarion pretended to mull the question over in his head for a moment. “I think you’d better print it out for me, actually. We wouldn’t want that email to get conveniently lost, would we? I’d hate to have to come all the way back up here.”

Raphael let out a long-beleaguered sigh and leaned back in his chair. “One of these days, your doggedness will land you in one hell of a pot of hot water.”

“So, you keep telling me.” Astarion dismissed him. “Should I expect Korrilla to get those forms printed out for me or…”

“I’ll have her get those to you shortly… though I must say I’m not inclined to let you think you can just burst into my office -interrupt my work- and get exactly what you want out of me without giving anything in return.”

Astarion’s skin prickled as Raphael’s eyes roamed over his body. He crossed his arms over his chest. He knew Raphael wasn’t in this for the thrill- this was far from their first rodeo- to him, this was just another avenue for exerting his control. “I’d hardly say I’m getting exactly what I want… I mean, I wouldn’t be here at all if you’d just-”

“I won’t ask for anything right now. I simply want a favor I can cash in at my leisure.” That was, in fact, much worse than if he’d just forced him to do something right now; he could hold this over his head for years.

“What kind of favor?” He knew he wouldn’t get him to admit anything out loud, not so bluntly.

“Nothing bigger than you can handle, I assure you.”

“I could just figure out the back channels myself, you know.”

“You could certainly try, but you know as well as I do that bureaucracy is a finicky thing. There’s no guarantee you’d get it right.”

Astarion set his jaw. “Fine. One favor and you personally oversee this appeal.”

“I will do my utmost best to ensure this university serves Miss Bellona to the best of its abilities.”

[virtualshifter]

Hi 😆 I saw that you also have a DR for Duskwood reality! That's amazing! Do you have a problem sharing ideas / your life story living there?

What's more, I'm glad to have found someone who's shifting to Duskwood :)

Sorry for any mistakes.

I don't speak english.

Hii, it's so nice to meet another Duskwood shifter! And sure, I have no problem talking about my life there!

So, there I live currently in Bern, Switzerland. I scripted that Duskwood is located in the southern part of Germany, nearing the german speaking part of Switzerland. I was originally born in Portugal, though my parents moved to Zermatt, Switzerland (where my dad is from) shortly after that.

There I proceeded to have a pretty normal but kind of happy life, being privileged and having a good education, except when it came to my mom, who was quite controlling. Eventually, she and my father divorced when I was in my teens, (which was also around the time I came in contact with Hannah, probably online, though I haven't exactly scripted how) and she returned to Portugal, where I would visit during summer. Besides that, my life was good, I was also able to travel to other countries and learn various skills, which includes jiu jitsu (for self defense, I will need it if I want to confront the man without a face lol) and music theory/singing, which I would led me in future to get my degree in Songwriting, at university.

At current time in my Dr, I work as a songwriter, both at home and in a studio, and moved to Bern, where I got the job opportunity and on the day I shift is the day I will be contacted by Thomas.

Also:

- I have scripted that I am extremely good at solving mysteries and consume a lot of mystery/mystery solving media content (since it will help me then with the mystery solving with Jake)

- Random, but I also scripted Eula from Genshin Impact to exist there and be my friend. I am also considering scripting other characters from other media sources here too, though I am not sure yet.

- My s/o, like 99% of Duskwood shifters, is Jake lol

- I have never been to Duskwood yet in my Dr

- Also random, but as a hobby there I do archery, I draw and play DND.

That's it. I know that my Dr story isn't very exciting, but I honestly am quite content with it. Thanks for the ask and sorry for how long this is, I have a hard time resuming lol.

[rockyp77mk3]

Asshole! You think fighting a bully helps? You are the kind of inbred fuck who thinks shooting back at an active shooter helps. Screw you

Some pretty strong language there, did somebody help you with that?

OK, let me tell you a story, you won't be interested but perhaps someone can read it to you. I was bullied in school in ways that you cannot imagine. For legal reasons my Dad refrained from teaching me anything but blocks which is as most people know only half of surviving a fight or in my case an out and out beating. I then kept the bullying to myself at home and at school the teacher knew but chose not to take action. The situation came to the attention of my Uncle (Mom called him) who was in Asia at the time. He flew home and started to teach me a few things. In an earlier war he was an infantryman and he taught me some basics but when Summer came he introduced me to weight training, bought me boxing and ultimately jiu jitsu lessons. I went back to school in the Fall and was bullied exactly once by a kid who was twice my size. It is amazing what dumping a bully on his ass can do for his ability to act civilly.

I found that I couldn't stand to see anyone else bullied so if I saw it taking place I requested that it be stopped and it was, every time. I never had to fight another bully, I just had to stand up to them. So yes, fighting back helps in more ways than one.

In answer to your last question, I will take it as a question anyway. Yes, shooting back and hitting an active shooter puts an immediate end to the rampage and saves innocent lives. How is that not obvious to you?

In closing I would like to thank you for your offer. It is very flattering but I strongly suspect that you are not my type.

[pinkbrries]

#BASIC INFO

》 BIRTH NAME: park izabella (in hangul: 박이자벨라)

》 KOREAN NAME: park chaewon (in hangul: 박채원)

》 STAGE NAME: izabella / cherry

》 REASON OF HER NAME: from Sino-Korean 采 (chae) meaning “collect, gather, pluck” or 彩 (chae) meaning “colour” combined with 原 (won) meaning “source, origin, beginning”.

》 NICKNAMES: chae oppa | wonnie hyung | iza | ella | ellie | cherry | chae-lion | prince charming | ateez golden girl | chae-culator | 4th gen it girl

》 BIRTH DATE: dec 23, 1998

》 PLACE OF BIRTH: auckland, nz

》 ZODIAC SIGN: capricorn.

》 ETHNICITY: new zealand-korean

》 LANGUAGES: english (native), korean (fluent), japanese (fluent), french (conversational), mandarin (basic), thai (learning)

》 HEIGHT: 1.57 cm || 5’1

》 VOICE CLAIM (rap): yuhnway (soloist)

》 VOICE CLAIM (vocal): kim jung eun (loona)

》 FACE CLAIM: kim jung eun (loona)

》 EMOJI: 🦁 / 🍒

》 FAVORITE COLOR: pastel pink and pastel green

》 MBTI: ENTJ-A

》 ROLE MODELS: rosé (blackpink), cl (2ne1), bobby and hanbin (ikon), shinee, red velvet, twice, wonder girls, hyuna, cheetah, zico, iu, dynamicduo, queen, metallica.

》 POSITIONS: main rapper, main dancer, main vocal, visual.

》 INDIVIDUAL FANDOM NAME: cherries (because of her old stage name)

#CARRER

》 COMPANIES:

SM Entertainment (signed as an actress): 2012 - 2014

Starship Entertainment: 2014 - 2016

KQ Entertainment: 2016 - present

》 TRAINEE PERIOD: 6 years and a half.

》 PRE DEBUT & OTHER APPEARANCES:

actress for several commercials

drama: heirs

drama: reply 1994

drama: schoolgirl detectives

unpretty rapstar s3 (second runner-up)

show me the money s6 (second runner-up)

kq fellaz

good girl

immortal songs

amazing saturday

hello counselor

men on a mission

the show (mc along with juyeon and kim minkyu)

inkigayo (special mc along with minhyuk and jaehyun)

show me the money s9 (first runner-up)

kpop daebak

running man

drama: a love so beautiful (korean ver)

drama: our beloved summer

drama: blue birthday

high school rapper s4 (mentor along with simon dominic and loco)

》 DEBUT DATE: october 24, 2018

#BACKGROUND

Izabella was born in Auckland, New Zealand, on december 23, 1998 to a korean family, having two older sisters, one of them being Rosé from the popular kpop girl group Blackpink. At the age of five years old Izabella and her family moved to Melbourne, Australia; there, she started taking different classes since early age: jiu jitsu (even participating in national competitions), aerial and contemporary dance, she learned how to play the drums, the piano and the guitar, and even joined the church choir along with her sister Rosé.

In 2011, at age of 13 and influenced by her dad’s words, she attended an audition in Sydney, Australia for South Korean record label SM Entertainment, ranking at the top three among 1000 participants, and just some months after that, her sister Rosé signed with YG. They both dropped out of school and moved to South Korea with their mom.

At first, she was happy with being signed only as an actress and having small roles to start with her career, but then she realized that acting wasn’t her passion, and after two years, she parted with SM on good terms.

Some months after that, she got scouted by an agent of Starship Entertainment. Izabella even trained with the (now) monsta x members and even got contemplated to join the survival show “no mercy,” but she didn’t end up joining. In the winter of 2015, Izabella opens a soundcloud account and starts releasing her own songs under the stage name of “cherry,” her popularity starting to grow, even getting considered as one of the best underground rappers back then. In 2016, she decides on parting with Starship too on good terms.

Trying to not give up even after the circumstances and after seeing her older sister’s success, she joins “unpretty rapstar” in 2016 under the stage name of ‘cherry’, making it into the finals and ranking at 3rd place. Izabella gained a lot of popularity due this survival, even getting calls from companies that were interested on signing her. It’s in october 2016 that an agent from KQ Entertainment reaches out to her, and after convincing her on giving the company a chance, she officially becomes a trainee at the beginnings of november 2016.

A year later, she joins another survival show: “show me the money,” being part of zico’s and dean’s team, making it into the finals and finishing on 3rd place.

On october 24, 2018, Izabella made her official debut with Ateez.

#SIGNATURE

[fuckkbrunch]

This one feels totally out of place. Definitely not something I would attribute to Anthony Bourdain.

I looked for Sambazon brand açaí puree and juice everywhere, but this is all that I found with açaí in it at all. It's not a very popular fruit these days. I subbed out the açaí juice for pomegranate juice...they're both superfoods sooo that's my reasoning.

The rest is just bananas, frozen blueberries and raspberries. Top with optional garnish of granola and cocoa nibs and voila.

Looks like something off of one of those healthy bullshit magazines at the grocery store check out.

Without the granola and cocoa nibs, it would really just be fruit sorbet with fruit on top.

| Açaí Bowl |

Taste is a 3 out of 5. So cold, but good.

Difficulty is a 1 out of 5. A kid could make this in a magic bullet blender.

Time was 10-15 minutes. So quick.

I can totally see how this would be super refreshing after doing intense sports. This is what he and his family would share after doing jiu-jitsu.

I know I played it a liiiittle bit fast and loose with the ingredient list, but mine and his look pretty damn similar!

This is the photo from the book. The colour, texture and consistency are so close. I think it's a pass.

This slaps as a summer breakfast option. Definitely making it again, even though I hate having cold teeth.