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50cal-fullauto-astarion · 1 year

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hot in sarajevo ii

[ part one ]

könig x f!reader operator (no use of “y/n”) / 7.3k words / NSFW

cw: body modifications in the form of könig's split tongue, references to monsterfucking, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, actually pretty sweet all things considered. a.n.: this literally kicked my ass during the two months it took to write it, and i sincerely hope you enjoy! sweet to the first half's sour, with a little surprise at the end if you read between the lines. ETERNAL thanks to @dotcie for beta-ing this for me, it wouldn't have been half as lovely without you, and to @parttimeprophet for helping me with my german so i wasn't making silly mistakes <3

The safehouse is a two-story, narrow shed shoved between two other, significantly older, significantly more robust stone buildings. A shithole that looks like it was made of tinder and afterthoughts, but it’s as glorious as an oasis after ten miles of hiking east over craggy, stony hills under a searing sun-fall.

The fading light cooks your back, and there is an uneasy, but needy tension between you and König in the aftermath of a successful and gruesome assassination. Neither were strangers to such orders handed down by KorTac, but you were both experts in carrying them out with bloodthirsty perfection.

When you’d left the campsite staging area in the center of the forest–where König taken you into his lap and fucked you senseless–he hucked you up on his back and hauled you through the forest without asking.

He was not a difficult man to read, at times; he’d felt bad for making your cunt sore.

The thirteen hours of broiling under the harsh Adriatic sun in full-body ghillie suits didn’t ensure an easy or pleasant slog into the city proper. After the maniacal fuck that König required to jailbreak his emotional regulation, you were lucky you were walking at all.

It seems to your eye that, sometimes, he views the world as an iPhone in the hands of an angry fourteen-year-old, and all his ailments are caused by wanting to watch porn outside of their parents’ childlocks. He could do that, and easily, if only he could aim his destruction at the proper target. Holding that thought, you have to remind yourself that König didn’t have any kind of a phone until he was eighteen.

His parents had been of an older generation and had little interest in advancing technology, and no interest in throwing their scant money toward any of it. They’d continued to stagnate in the past–rotting in a poverty-burdened, filthy hoard house, amongst kennels of well-bred Doberman dogs that were better loved than he–while König had moved into the city and the modern era. But he still enjoys jailbreaking his iPhones, if only because he can.

Maybe because he hates restrictions and authority. Maybe because they are the only concepts he understands, even as he struggles against them–though he always ultimately succumbs.

Well. He hates restrictions and authority that doesn’t make him cum.

You’re both dressed down to hiking civvies, and he’s got a black cotton gaiter pulled up his face. You’re sweating in sheets that cascade down your breasts, stomach, and back. Your thighs soak the legs of your pants, and every stride renews the raw, dull ache of chafing skin. There is not a stitch of clothes on your body that does not cling disgustingly to your overheated skin, making you feel beastly.

By looking at König, and his sweat-blackened shirt and narrowed eyes, you can tell he feels the same. A shower cannot come soon enough.

The exfil vehicle that had been waiting after the hike has done well enough of a job, but the closer you got to the safehouse, the narrower the roads became. Ultimately, it has to be abandoned several streets down. Left in a back alley, you pull yourselves out and pop the back hatch, where he pulls the strap of a surplus rucksack over his shoulder. He also takes yours without asking, and adds it to the weight.

“What the fuck are you doing,” you say, not even allowing the end-pitch of a question.

“You can carry the case,” he replies. What an utter gentleman, allowing you to slug your own equipment, like you hadn’t spent years and years humping full packs across the hottest hellholes on the planet under active fire. You’re too tired, and too close to heatsick to argue it too much. The streets around here are mostly dark, quiet and full of Bosnians that mind their business.

Baščaršija is a beautiful place. The old town is full of ancient mosques and minarets on stone-paved streets, some narrow, some wide. There’s one slim street in particular that you pass down, by far older than the necessity of wide paths for motor traffic, where the shops lining it are all broad, tall windows, the lights from within warm and softening the darkness fading into the city.

You pass antique stores, bistros, couples and gaggles of friends crowding around each other, listening to music from their phones, smoking cigarettes, laughing. It’s nothing like home, a completely different animal, but it pulls you in. No one in this city knows that you and the man you walk beside are the cause of four monstrous deaths in the hills.

You are two strangers, finding solace in hands reaching for hands, a moment of exhaled relief when contact is made by the tentative and exploratory brush of fingers. For a brief moment, you let yourself buy into the thought that you are just a backpacker, finding your way to lodgings with your boyfriend, carrying an odd case that could be anything.

König’s grip becomes more insistent, a thick layer of dependence in its tight hold, and he looks dead ahead, head lowered, shoulders bunched. You give him three quick squeezes–I love you–and he answers it back with four–I love you, too. You now turn your attention to getting a read on him.

Normally, he is amped after a successful mission, but he was already needy. His jaw is set hard, and his eyes are flat and flinty. He’s looking, but not seeing. You know that he’s turned against himself.

The pair of you had fallen together in a frenzy. To call your fall for one another an orbital strike would be an understatement. Yours was a crash site made home, and the months of settling under the strange, but welcome and cherished atmosphere of a relationship had begun to peel away the dermis, revealing the sensitive nerves and muscle below.

There lives a hatred in König’s soul that often turns inward. Would that he could rip himself to shreds like a sheet of paper folded and twisted under nervous hands. And he does. You still haven’t found a way to break through those walls–hell, you don’t think he even knows how he erected them, because he would also see them crumbled and turned into utter wreckage.

If you were going to pull logic out of the chaos that’s occupied his body since he was thirteen, you would have to admit to yourself that there isn’t anything you can do. That he’s the one that has to somehow find away to break apart and rebuild the way he thinks, nearly on a molecular level.

With no other help to offer, feeling weak and useless in the face of his battle, you hold his hand, and you walk beside him.

“I’m sorry,” he says after two blocks of walking. Spits it out sudden-like, not meeting your eyes. His posture is fucked, slumping him forward.

“Stop that shit.” No heat, you never use heat with him; the man’s been burned enough. “Wouldn’t I tell you if I didn’t like the way you handled me?”

There is a telling pause, you can feel the lie he’s building on his tongue become too big to swallow or spit. He grinds it down between his molars, and his hand grows tighter around yours in desperation.

“I think you would lie to make me feel better.”

It’s an earnest and brave bit of truth–the man developed a frightening skill with white lies through his life to survive all of the shit hands he was dealt, and his skin crawls under the admission. But your love is dissection, vivisection: it has given you months of slow, thorough study, and an understanding of what patterns his thoughts led him down to land on that conclusion.

It is what he would do to make you feel better.

“Lee,” you say, using the part of his real name that he finds acceptable, and only from you, “you know I give more of a fuck about your security than your comfort when it comes to shit like this.”

The blunt admission makes him stifle a wince, but he holds tight when you slip out of his hand to wrap your arm around his waist, his arm around your shoulders.

The moment you’re through the threshold of the safehouse, the Steyr’s case hits the floor, along with your packs, and out come the sidearms. You and König slide right into formation, clearing the building room by room, call and response in flight like crows.

He takes the lead, and you follow–as much as he might not like the designation dumped in his lap, he is good at it, running hot with his jaw ticking, eyes engaged and unblinking. It was a barb during the fuck, calling him an insertion specialist, but there is not another soul at KorTac that you would trust with your safety on the ground the way you put your life in his hands.

After the building is confirmed clear, it comes time for your speciality. Both of you are experts in urban warfare, but where his skill lies in blunt force, yours burns brightest in paranoia.

Paratrooper by training, guerilla tactics by experience, tearing apart the house in search of bugs or aberrations. Anything wrong, anything out of place. It takes longer than the clearing, König helps, and at the end, the safehouse is as spotless as it can be from a tactical standpoint.

Standing in the attic bedroom, you stretch your back. “I’m radioing in. You hit the shower.”

He shakes his head and makes an argumentative noise. “Nah. Give me your pieces, I’m breaking down and cleaning everything,” he says, holding his hand out expectantly.

He presents his .50 GS–a literal hand cannon, and a fraternal twin to your own–without asking, and holds it out to you by the barrel. You do not like the way your hand feels wrapping around the checkering on the grip. You do not like that it’s aimed at his stomach.

You take it anyway, holding it loose in one hand with your finger on the trigger guard, and pass him your P99 and matching .50 from the holsters under your arms. There is sore white all around his eyes, and he is not blinking.

“Where are you setting up?” he asks, voice tense like a wire-plucked.

Your initial report runs smoothly, getting in contact with Majka on a secure, encrypted line on the tablet usually kept in König’s possession. For this operation, your call signs are Schakals. Jackals. Wild things, unafraid of humanity. Wandering far too close, with teeth too ready to reveal under peeled chops.

König stays close, breaking down your guns a mere cushion away on the couch where you’ve planted your ass, hips aching and thighs tight now that the aftershocks of sex have long, long faded. His head remains bowed, and his gaiter remains in place. Every few minutes, he rolls his shoulders back. Forcing the blades of bone together, trying to release tension that will not let go.

When your report closes out, and you move to sit forward reaching for your cigarettes and lighter, König jerks as he turns to you. “Where’re you going?” His question is brittle, and keyed-up, eyes darting over your body as you settle back a bit.

“Nowhere, calm down,” you tell him, lighting two cigarettes. “Can I pull down your mask so I can give you this?”

He responds in a subtle nod, and you reach for his trappings to tuck the cigarette into the corner of his scarred mouth. König tries to follow your hand when you pull away, a nigh-unconscious tell that gives away his endless desire to be near you, always. It’s a level of wantedness you still grapple to understand–and it’s gut-turning fear mixed with crushing want that makes you pull your hand away instead of cupping his jaw.

You were never told what to do with the parts of yourself that somehow remained soft through the abuse of years. You’re stuck having to teach yourself, and it is not an easy process, though König has helped break an innumerable amount of those barriers.

He looks kicked when you sink back into the armrest of the couch, until you shove your feet under his thigh, flicking your eyes toward the neatly disassembled handguns on the trunk-cum-coffee table before him, a silent nudge of keep going.

Some peace washes over him as he cleans the broken-down guns, heeding your urging.

His eyes don’t ever soften, not that you’ve ever really seen–except for rare moments, when he looks at you, and you wonder what visual information his brain is processing from his retinas. It puts you in a wondering state: curious if he thinks of you in the poetry of weapons engineering, or nuclear physics, or the black shine of blood spilled at night–but his gaze isn’t dagger-edged in concentration.

Neither would you call it contentment. You know König is only content when he’s burned through all of his bad energy, and all the screaming in his head has died down to guttering, airless moans.

“Do you want to go out and get food later?” you pose to him, thinking back on the smell of kebabs roasting over burning coals overwhelming your memory and empty gut, and he nods again. Neither of you speak Bosnian or Serbian, but his Croatian is conversational, and passable enough.

“Saw a couple booths doing Turkish coffee on the way. You’ve ever had that?” he asks half-mumbled, his attention unevenly divided.

“You can do it on a stove, but it’s not the same as…,” he says, drifting, and your mouth twitches toward a smile when you realize he’s moved past the other half of his sentence. A good half inch of ash clings to the end of his cigarette, and it falls on his thigh, utterly unnoticed as he slides the guns back together slow as syrup.

It’s a bit fun to watch as he pours his attention into the flow of his hands. On the field you’ve seen him breakdown and rebuild these same guns in seconds when demanded. There’s some measure of novelty in watching him take his time.

Your guns are handed back to you, cleaned first and checked over for defects. You slide them back into your holsters, just like coming home as you silently observe him moving onto the Steyr.

The god-killing gun falls apart in his hands–pulled piece by piece in diagrammatic sequence from the molded foam from a case twice as expensive as your monthly rent–as if waiting for his attention, spread across the coffee table in a way that seems almost indecent to your eye.

Maybe it’s a situation of projection–identifying with the horrendous and heavy weapon that, just today, took four lives in one of the most brutal ways imaginable. Thinking of yourself in precision machined pieces, willing and eager to disassemble under König’s hands, because you know he will dedicate himself fully to your continued existence and function.

The Steyr’s all spread out before him like you often are, a pile of components unmade at his hands: unscrewed barrel, its bipod assembly, its scope and sights and grips, its magazine and receiver.You feel yourself pulse, clit throbbing in time with your increasing heartbeat.

Maybe you should be more open and honest during your next psych eval, if you’re getting this wet over thinking of yourself as similar in nature to a rifle.

This process takes longer, but when König is finished, handing you the cigarette butt to put out, he puts the pieces back into the appropriate slots in the case. He stretches back, smelling like the slick, oily residue of DW-40 and the metallic odor of the faintly acidic oils on his skin reacting with the weapon’s metal. It clings to and pinches your soft palate like the sting of a sweat bee, something you can feel just under your eyes.

His spine cracks, releasing a hard, meaty sound as the joints give, and he grunts in relief, turning his head toward you. He looks like he’s about to say something, but stops right before the words can gather behind his teeth.

Shit, you must be obvious. Can’t help the pull on your lips as you look up at him, shifting your legs, your thighs pressing together, amplifying the thump of your blood. “Hey.” Stupid thing to say really, but your come-on lines have never been all that stellar. But he’s always excited you, made you feel giddy and frivolously young and unburdened. Like you’re finally able to have all the things were denied as you grew into adulthood, shoved aside in favor of trauma that demanded the attention more.

“Hey,” he says, laughing a bit. He pulls what he can of his scarred lips between his teeth, wetting them, his brow furrowing. “I’m going to wash my hands. I’ll be back in a moment.”

Briefly, there is a twitch in your stomach, watching him go, and the anticipation and giddiness twist for a moment toward sickness. Sometimes, you worry he will leave and not come back. That he’ll have decided that he’s had enough, even with his threshold as high as it is, and he will simply be gone.

But, true to his word, he’s not gone long at all, just gone to the kitchen on the other side of the room, and you are bad off all over again. Watching him bow his head and hunch slightly to fit his hands under the stream of steaming water, soap foaming clear up his wrists, is making your mouth flood and your throat clicking dry. Big bastard, he’s doing it on purpose, hitting all of your buttons.

And the way he maintains eye contact with you all the way back, his hips loose and rocking, his pants already beginning to tent. His deep breathing gives him away, nevermind the fact that he hasn’t pulled his gaiter back up.

He sits back down, turned toward you, and pushes his hands under the hem of your shirt, his palms warm and soft from the wash and scrub. His thumbs knead into your skin, and his lids droop as his fingers tuck into the waistband of your pants. The pressure in his fingertips is possessive, greedy, starved like a street dog. He savors your skin, tracing patterns where he knows your tattoos live beneath your skin, pressing the heels of his hands into your hips.

Your tongue feel like lead. Everytime he touches you like this, it reads loud and clear that he’s holding onto something–someone he considers his. He’s surveying the scope of his lands, his dominion, and, dear god, does he love this country he calls home.

“Bitte, Schatzi,” he mumbles, leaning forward so minimally anyone else in the world would need a micrometer to measure the distance moved, “let me have your cunt. I’m starved, and you look like you’re having fits.” A wicked smirk flickers over the corner of his mouth as his eyes darken, and his hands grip tighter where they’ve slid to your waist. “I’m probably the world’s biggest asshole, but I can’t stand to just watch you suffer because of me.”

You pull your tongue along the bottom edge of your teeth, thinking of how he was in the woods earlier–sharp-edged and demanding, unrelenting, holding you in place over his cock as he rammed into you over and over, until you literally saw stars and couldn’t breathe. Aggression, all claws, borderline unfit for human companionship, all under a soft gold sunset. And, here, you still would not say the man before you is a different man at all. He’s just König. He’s just Leopold Königsbacher, from Schladming, Austria, who juggles kitchen knives to make you laugh.

“You just wanna sink down there til you grow gills or something?” you ask, a bedroom, sliding your leg into his lap, soaking up the look of relief on his face. His hands slide farther down, cradling the swell of your hips, as you undo your belt and zipper, pushing your pants and boxers down.

He helps pull them down as far as either of you can, looking fucking ridiculous as your clothes can’t go farther than your boots. Doesn’t pay to take them off, no matter how long you’re going to be here, you might have to run, and it’s easier to keep everything within pulling distance.

Flicking his eyes over your body, a small, caught-out smirk touches his lips. “Hah. Yeah, jawohl. Would live between your fucking legs, if I could.” His hips roll against nothing, rubbing his hard cock against the strain of his pants. You know there’s an anxiety in him that screams to fuck and to fuck now, and it’s raising its head.

König has the sort of anxiousness where if the things he desires do not happen immediately, they will not happen at all. His mind works in such a way that even small things become so desperately escalated into needs, he can hardly function without answering those demands.

On the best of days, you’re not much for words, and he has no natural talent for them–he can talk at screeching speeds, expelling high levels ideas that are baffling or frightening with ease, but his delivery is lacking, and leaves his listeners shifting uncomfortably or looking for exits. You, on the other hand, are simply not good at them. Too cold, too strange. Too blunt, or removed. But König understands you as you understand him, and he coaxes sweet nothings out of you more than anyone else has ever managed.

Despite the sweetness that spills from your lips being an understood language between you, none of your words are the soft, looping things most would like to hear muttered into their skin. In the bedroom-dark safety of bodies-meeting-bodies, you and König still snap out the sounds of predators, and anyone scenting as prey would fail to find the beauty in your phrases as he does.

And, beyond that, you’re not sure you could even find words. Not with him towering over you between your legs, though he bows lower. Not with the light from the kitchen behind his head hitting the wheat-colored curls escaping from his hair tie, illuminating him like a saint. Lord, he looks like dreams you used to have.

You reach for his neck, and you tug him down, permission passed without even parting your lips, and the relief that relaxes his eyes is colossal. Like he’s walking his way home in the dark on a path he would know blind and numb, he finds his way to your cunt with the ease of muscle memory.

But König is still König, and his anxiety will always outweigh his softness tenfold. He lets out this nervous, pitchy hyena laugh of excitement. Not waiting for permission and not giving a second of preamble, he licks you from asshole to clit in a broad, wet swipe with his long, split tongue.

Electricity shoots straight up your spine. Almost immediately, he buries back in, massaging the halves of his tongue around your clit like he’s painting in brush strokes.

He ropes an arm around your leg and over your pelvis, weighing you down, and fits his free hand into the crease where your thigh meets your hip. Using that as extra leverage, he pulls himself further in, and pushes your legs further back–hobbled as they are by your clothing around your ankles. Your skin burns like an oil derrick in flames every spot you’re touched, and his mouth is volcanic; you only just this moment realizes how badly you needed to thaw.

You were a barracks bunny before König and your mutual, supermassive possessive streaks; always easy to put out, wet on your own command, perpetually bored and looking for fun stolen minutes at a time. You can easily say sex is a sorely jaded topic in your roster.

But, holy fuck, every time he hits his knees to devour you feels new, and alien, and strange.

Not only his tongue—practiced, clever thing it is now that he’s been able to take his natural talent for it to use with you, drawing figure eights and pinching and pulling at you, teasing your hole and your clit at once—but his utter, sustained greed pitched against his plain desire to serve. How he gets more focused and desperate, sucking on your lips, groaning into you, sounds become wetter by the second.

“Pretty, fuck, your pussy’s so pretty,” he mutters, panting, pausing to kiss your seam. Between your cunt and thigh, your perineum, making you squirm and whine. His dogmatic fervor has always been borderline chilling–you’ve never been handled with this level of desire, or needed so fiercely you function akin to air that is needed to live.

No one has ever loved you this way–no one before him. If you could wrap the threads of fate around your forearms like the reins of horses, to exert your horrid and steely control over them, he will never have a successor.

It will always be only him.

You reach down and grab him by the hair at his temples, which you’ve never ceased to be charmed to find is gray before his years. “Fuck me—with your tongue, right now,” you command him, and he complies, only reaching up to hook his thumb in your shirt and bra to ruck them up over your breasts.

The instant stretch makes you dizzy, squeezing your thighs tight around his head. Don’t his cheekbones just cut right into your muscle, and doesn’t he just moan and heave a whole body shudder under you? Greedy fucking man, pushing his tongue deeper, scissoring the halves of it wide in all directions, curling against your walls as he finds an angle for his neck that fits him to thrust in and out of you. Feasting, feasting, feasting.

It’s a fullness you’ve only recently gotten used to with him–too much dexterity, too fluid and swirling, and it reminds you shamefully of all the times you’ve masturbated to the point of wrist-aches with tentacles, and aliens, and monsters on your mind. Fevered, otherworldly, inhuman beasts dying of desire, with the sparkling-sharp sentience to know exactly how to slake their thirst and sate their hunger.

His hands grip tighter, nails digging into your flesh, and you know it’s going to leave bruises, but you don't care. It only gets better when he cracks his eyes, a picture of anguish and ecstasy, moaning deep and rumbling in his chest.

It seems he brings himself under some form of control. His mouth turns pliant, and the way he tastes you turns indulgent, slow. The only man you’ve ever met who could self-soothe by eating pussy. And, shit. Doesn’t that work out perfectly for you.

Your hands soften, brushing over his tied-back hair, playing with loose ringlets. Staring down at him, watching the creases fade from his forehead and from around his scars, he looks satisfied, and at peace. It’s a look you’ve seen only rarely, not even in his sleep.

He sighs and groans, kneading your thighs, when he makes you come on his tongue, sliding it in and out of you as lazy as late, humid afternoons; rumbling deep in his throat when you arch off the cushions, groaning and clenching your thighs to keep them from squeezing around his head again.

“Aw, fuck, Kö—,” you half-whine, making him hum a nasal laugh, pulling out of you agonizingly slow. The lower half of his face is a mess with your slick, shining under the light, and his pupils are dilated to the size of fucking 10-cent pieces.

There’s a proud, giddy cut to his expression, his scarred-crooked mouth pulling into a lopsided grin, chest heaving.

“Did you like that, Schatzi? Did it make you feel good?” he pushes, his hands coming to your knees, fingers pressing firmly into your flesh.

“Yeah,” your voice drags as you speak, laughter raspy. Your racing heartbeat is only just starting to slow, and the whole of your body pulses in time. There is delight in being rocked by ground-shaking tectonics of pleasure. There is divinity in the way he looks down at you–starving, an acolyte wanting to worship. “Have a condom on you?”

A quick nod is your answer, and he starts to pull up your body, dropping your legs. It’s ridiculous and hurried, and the laugh that bursts out of you is huge, taking on a life uniquely its own when he starts climbing in between your legs and your pulled-down pants, “What are you fucking doing?”

“Path of least resistance, even though it looks like the path of most resistance!” he barks in return, laughing too loudly and frenetically, filling the room. He hikes your pants up over his ass and onto back, yanking you further down the couch, and deeper into his lap. As simple as if you were just a jump harness he had to wrestle into. “I’m thinking on that fifth dimension shit right now! You have to catch up, Schatzi,” he says, giving you a maniac, you get it? grin.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” you accuse him, but you’re beaming and cackling all the same, unfastening a chain from around your neck with zero thought, working a fully blind impulse.

“No, you’re fucking an idiot,” he shoots right back, “really, Liebe, you have to at least try to keep up.”

Oh, and what the fuck. This is König–the one that you dream about, the one you go looking for when the world wants to crush you in its titanic fucking grip. Thinks himself so dog-ugly, dog-tired. Distempered, foul, and unworthy of anything but beating.

He’d probably sneer, roll his eyes, and insult you if you compared him to the sun, but the thought remains firmly anchored in your head as your hands slide the thin, cheap chain around his neck twice, fixing the clasp at his nape. König’s too distracted to notice much more than lifting his chin to afford you access, as he pulls out his cock and rolls the rubber down it.

When he lines himself up with your cunt, looking too eager, the two fingers you keep tucked between a strand of the chain and his neck tug, tightening the links around his skin. At once, you’ve got his full attention, his chest heaving as he holds himself above you.

“What’s that?” he asks, licking his lips, beginning to tremble, leaning into the pull of pressure. “What’re you doing?”

“I was thinking about playing with your air a little bit. That okay?” you purr, giving the chain another small tug. “Nothing big. I won’t cut your breathing off completely. But I thought you might like it.”

“Oh, fuck.” He starts up laughing again, but it’s dripping with a rotten core of sudden need. “Bitte–think you have to, now. Can’t just tease me with that shit and not deliver.”

It was in your head to pull him down over you, but your breath catches in your throat looking at him. With half your body bound to him by tangled clothing and your own greedy legs anchoring tight to his sides, each of you flush with laughter and arousal, your heart is a bleeding stone on your tongue. Instead of staining your teeth as the blood rolls out of your mouth, it spills in reverse, and you can hardly drink your fill of it before you begin to choke.

“I love you—” It snaps out of your mouth and dies, the harsh need to hide away your face makes you pull him down, moaning as he slides deeper, and, fuck, it hurts. You’re still so tender, and bruised, and god knows what else from this taking just barely managing to handle the way he’d fucked you that afternoon that anything but slow, sweet, and shallow was going to be an agony endured.

His hips buck and jag, entire throat filling with the moan of your real name. He tries so hard not to fuck into you fully, planting his hands on either side of your arms as if he’ll bar himself from giving into his own body.

“Don’t do that, don’t do that, don’t do that,” he begs and rambles, shuddering, breathing in shallow, clipped laps as if freezing. His hips and legs shift, nearly nervous–a horse spooked and dying to run. “Oh, fuck, don’t do that,” he pleads, hanging his head, trying hard to catch his breath.

The chain is so easy to use, and he listens to the summon of pressure, sucking in a breath to hold it tight. His body sways, buffeted by arousal as if he is a ship on deep-rolling seas, and his head ends up sunken within whispering distance of your lips. So close you can smell the sweat cooling through his curls. So close you can taste the copper-tinged scent of his skin without ever licking him.

“You’re so good, Schatz,” you say, tapping on a name you rarely call him, borrowing his language. “Such a good boy. Such a loving boy.” The pain dulls to a throbbing ache that can be enjoyed, his hips slowing as he rocks into you. Already, he runs ragged, but his rhythm is bursting with devotion and slow-melting sweetness.

There is a monster that lives in your chest, cradling, always, the molar-cracking force with which you love König. The beast beneath that calls your ribcage a prison and a home does not know a single way to handle things in half-measures. There are no lengths you would hesitate to go for the man above and inside you, head bent and buried into your shoulder in supplication.

Your pillow-talk starts to spill out, eyes sliding closed, as you revel in the breath making your skin humid, “I couldn’t stand seeing you with anyone else, Schatz. If you ever left me–ever started fucking another person–think I’d kill ‘em. I’d lose my shit, not being the last person you ever took to bed.”

“I wouldn’t–oh, sheiße–Schatzi, I would never,” König vows in a moan, the sound filling the dip above your collarbone like collected sweat or blood pooled from a spilling neck wound.

He loses sense of his rhythm, rutting like an animal in heat. It becomes difficult to ride it out with him, timing his peaks with the pull on the chain, forcing him higher and higher. You’re too sore to cum like this again today, but his mouth had seen to it that you were finished. Now it is a matter of making him match as he rides you, pressing more and more of his weight down.

“Cum. God dammit, König, you need to cum,” you command him, breathless, pulling the chain taut now. It’s been entirely too long now that he’s been keyed up, desperate for your cunt, gripping you to his body like he needs the touch to simply survive. The way he breathes, when you allow him, is the heavy heaving of brittle-dry sobs. His skin burns against yours, sliding with the sheer amount of sweat pouring from his body.

It’s almost enough to make your eyes roll back, listening to him whimper, “I’m trying, I’m trying, bitte, Liebes, I promise,” his voice unraveling into an escalating, hysterical, almost panicked moaning.

“I know–I know you are, honey. Christ–fuck–you’re killing me. Love how you fuck me. Love how hard you get when you kill people. How you act all fucked up, and vile, and need to cut loose,” you gasp, more of the vulgarity breaking out of you as your ragged pants barely manage to pull air into your lungs. “Know this isn’t that. I know you’re–being gentle on purpose. Fucking me like you need me, ‘cause you do. You couldn’t move on from me–there is no one else, is there?”

There is one last ruthless constriction of chains against his throat, holding him tight. This time you really do cut his air, metal biting into your fingers. The last stretch of his desperation draws longer–long enough you wonder if it was a mistake–as every roll of his hips slides him deeper.

A sound chokes in his throat, and he holds himself rigid, his shoulders quaking with suppressed trembling as his wrapped cock kicks inside you. He’s not even breathing, obeying the constriction around his neck, and he rocks the longer it draws out. For a stupid moment, you wonder if he’s somehow blacked the fuck out in his frozen state, until the links holding the chain’s clasp give, the necklace snapping.

He pulls in a huge gust of air and collapses on top of you, forcing your chin to slot over his shoulder as his weight crashes down, pushing the wind out of you.

“Shit–damn, baby, was it that good?” you ask, relieved and shaking in time to match his. You didn’t cum, but you didn’t need nor want to. You find yourself perfectly satisfied, the heady, filthy contact of skin sticking together its own prize.

“Shh,” he admonishes you, taking a huge breath, sloppily kissing your neck.

“We didn’t even shower.”

“Shh,” he now insists, lazily lifting a hand to cup it over your mouth, and he rumbles with contentment as you place your teeth on the web of skin between his thumb and forefinger.

After an indecently thorough shower, you both dress in the small cubby of a bathroom afforded to you. It’s a slow process, König seemingly spending more time kissing you and touching you than actually dressing. The sadness and desperation had gone out of him with the sex–it could even be called lovemaking, but. Well. You’re both on the far side of skittishness when it comes to naming something so gently.

But, in turn, you are softer. Kinder. Thawed. When his hands slide into yours, you massage his palms and the heel of his thumb. You squeeze his fingers, and brush the soft veins of his wrist with your fingertips.

Your love is dissection, vivisection, but there is a reason that flesh is cut and dermis, fascia, and muscle are pulled apart.

It is to learn the body beneath your hands, and you are so acutely learned in König. When you kiss his palms, he breathes in tightly. When you put a hand over his chest, as if to hold his oversized heart, you swear he would let you cradle it to calm the slamming it produces.

“I love you,” you say to him, sliding your eyes up to his, liquid-smooth, flowing. This time it is said with intent. It is not a burst of confession in the midst of blistering heat, where it feels guilty and fraudulent. This is a surety. This is your heart speaking with a projected voice.

He takes your hand off his chest, his face softened with a weak expression and glittering eyes, and he presses his lips to your knuckles. After the kiss, he holds you there, simply nuzzling your skin. “Ich liebe dich, auch, mein Liebe,” he murmurs, lids sitting heavy over that blue you know so well.

Baščaršija had awoken as you two had hidden in one another’s bodies. The sky is dark as pitch, and the light pollution from the bazaar blots out the stars, but the air smells spiced and warm, with a faint tinge of sweat-touched skin leftover on the locals who had spent their days under the sun.

While waiting in line for the coffee König had mentioned as he’d broken down and cleaned your guns, he examines the snapped length of your necklace. “It’d be an easy fix. Might have to wait until we’re home, but–no, yeah–two minutes, tops,” he says, pinching the stretched-out link that had caused the failure below the free edge of his thumb nail.

You lift a shoulder in a shrug, looking down at his hands. “It’s cheap, I’m not worried about it. I have to have a dozen and a half just like that in my junk jewelry box,” you snort. It’s an easy let-go. It’s garbage silver over copper, and it’s not worth the money that made the tag that once hung from it.

“Always with the shitty jewelry,” he sighs, bemused, but it’s not a real jab. He still winds the chain around two of his fingers to make a little bundle, and stuffs it in his pocket. He’s not going to let it remain broken, simply because it’s yours. He’s quiet for a moment, though he hums warmly when you turn around and press your back into his chest, your boots between his boots while you wait in the queue. But he starts, “You know…”

You press back into him, humming, “Hm?” in answer.

“I could buy you jewelry, if you want. Real jewelry,” he begins to venture, tone a completely different animal than you’re used to meeting eyes with. It’s almost hesitant, and isn’t that just so massively strange when it comes to this man. “Or…a diamond.”

The word lands like an anomalous warhead–something gargantuan and frightening, that does not detonate on impact. It’s still a terrifying occurrence, but not an instant death as should be feared. Your back straightens against him, and you fall into a controlled breathing pattern in the same way you’d fall into a plummet when running off the back of a cargo plane. Good god, you hope your chute opens.

“Do you like diamonds?” he queries further, soft and anxious. He begins to shift and fidget. He’d hoped for a faster answer to this question-beneath-a-question.

Reaching behind you, you draw your hand down the length of his arms, until he pulls out of his hoodie pocket. Relaxation floods his body the moment you lace fingers with him, squeezing him tight, three times, I love you, and his four beat answer comes quickly.

“Diamonds are pretty,” you start, slow and careful in navigation of the thoughts ricocheting around your racing heart. Exhilaration? Dread? Hope? You can’t possibly tell, but you know exactly what he’s asking. “I’d want a lab grown one, though. Think we have enough blood on our hands without jumping for something mined,” you further, in small beats. “What about a, uhm. What do you think of a sapphire? Maybe…something heirloom.”

Callused fingers brush your knuckles, and a scarred mouth hidden by a black cotton gaiter lowers to your ear, nuzzling your hair. “I’d love how you look wearing a sapphire,” he murmurs in utter reverence. It makes you scoff a little under your breath–he holds you in higher esteem than he’d ever held any god–but you reach up and offer benediction in the form of your free fingers sliding into his freshly washed curls.

“Maybe that’s something we’ll talk about more coming up, huh?” you ask and assure. It is not a no, you are not putting out his flame completely, but this is something that should not be spoken of while clocking hours with kills. You’d rather not have anything between you and König defined in a setting where blood could shower at any moment. You’d like neither blood diamonds, nor blood proposals. “But, yeah, Schatz. I’d wear your jewelry.”

He presses a kiss to the spot in front of your ear, and quickly pinches your ass, laughing hyena-pitched once again. “Good. You wouldn’t get to take it off, you know. I’m going to put it on you, and a mortician is going to have to remove it.”

You rub the spot he’d pinched, giving him an eye roll over your shoulder. “Ah, I see, so you’re also telling me that you get to die, first,” you deadpan, though you can’t stop the smirk that curls your mouth.

“Of course. Why would I want to hang around any fucking place you’re not?” he throws your way, and in the pit of your heart, you know he means it.

tag-list: @alittleposhtoad @bitchoftoji @jaredhopworthsknickers @kastlequill @miyabilicious @moths569 @pssytrux <3

#konig #könig #call of duty #cod mw2 #mw2 #konig mw2 #konig call of duty #konig x reader #konig smut #my work

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perfectsunlight · 1 year

Text

(𝟔𝟒) - 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌: 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝖾𝗌 (?)

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬: 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮

sakura always wondered why she could never do anything to comfort you.

the first time she met you, she picked up on the way your smile never seemed to reach your eyes. she had always been the observant type, even though her former group loved to paint her as the “oblivious japanese girl.”

but sakura saw through those stereotypes, and she genuinely cared about people's well-being. as she spent more time with you, she noticed the subtle signs that something weighed heavily on your heart.

it pained her to see you burdened by invisible sorrows.

she tried different approaches to bring you comfort, from kind words to small gestures of affection. sakura would offer a listening ear whenever you spoke, hoping that you’d share your feelings and lighten your load. but deep down, she felt frustrated, wondering why her efforts seemed to fall short.

perhaps it was because she couldn't see the entirety of your pain, the intricate tapestry of emotions that you kept hidden. were you sad because you couldn’t debut under sm? did you miss your old group? or perhaps you were lonely here without friends?

regardless of your reasons for your subtle signs of sadness, sakura yearned to understand you on a deeper level, to unravel the intricacies of your heart. she believed that only then could she offer the comfort you needed.

however she soon realized that you were not lonely. you were simply just heartbroken.

you were carrying the weight of a past relationship that left deep scars on your soul. the older girl realized that your pain stemmed from a love lost, and it wasn't something she could heal with a simple act of comfort.

she knew that heartbreak took time to heal, and it required patience, understanding, and a safe space for you to process your emotions. perhaps that’s why she just let you grieve, giving you the space to let your grief run its course.

sakura knew you weren’t getting any better. you were barely eating, the circles under your eyes telling you were hardly sleeping as well. everything about you was screaming for help, but sakura didn’t know what else to do.

she wasn’t the only one who was feeling the same way either. chaewon was feeling just as worried and concerned.

chaewon always heard your sniffles at the twilight hours and the break of dawn. still to this day she wonders why she never could bring herself to get up and comfort you.

maybe it was because she didn’t know how.

despite being the leader, she was inept in providing emotional support.

she carried the weight of her own insecurities, feeling inadequate and unsure of how to offer you the solace you desperately needed. it wasn't a reflection of her lack of care or concern, but rather a result of her own limitations and self-doubt.

chaewon often found herself at a loss for words when faced with your pain. she questioned her ability to provide the right kind of support and feared saying the wrong thing, inadvertently causing more harm than good. it weighed heavily on her heart, knowing that you were suffering, but feeling helpless in her own inability to alleviate your pain.

deep down, she cared deeply for you. but chaewon wished she could magically possess the wisdom and comforting presence that would bring you solace.

she wished she could be even half of the leader eunbi was.

maybe that’s why she and sakura let yunjin do her thing with you? of course, they both did not approve of you and a fellow member sleeping together. it would make things complicated, and there was a huge risk that it would make dynamics weird.

but all that was thrown out the window when they realized that it was working.

chaewon wrestled with conflicting emotions as she witnessed the unexpected but effective approach yunjin took in bringing solace to your life. while she couldn't ignore the potential complications and risks that came with your involvement with a fellow member, she couldn't deny the positive impact it had on your well-being.

she understood that healing and finding comfort often required thinking outside the box and challenging the norms. chaewon and sakura both observed the positive changes in you, the light returning to your eyes, and it gave them a sense of relief.

they knew that yunjin's presence in your life, while unconventional, provided the comfort and support you needed during this difficult time. you needed jimin, but if yunjin could be a temporary solution, then so be it.

it wasn't about following a set of rules but rather finding what truly worked for you, even if it defied expectations. your well-being and healing were paramount, and if this unorthodox approach brought you solace and happiness, chaewon couldn't help but be grateful for the positive impact it had on your life.

in their support for yunjin's role in your life, chaewon and sakura also embraced the importance of open-mindedness and acceptance. they recognized that relationships could be complex, and they prioritized your happiness and emotional well-being above all else.

you were happy. that’s all that mattered to them.

when you walked inside the dorm, you weren’t expecting to be met with the glaring eyes of chaewon. your leader’s anger issues were a well known feature, but you didn’t know if knowing how upset she was brought you any comfort.

behind her on the couch, sakura sat with her arms folded. the eldest member looked stoic, but you could tell from the twitch in her eyebrow and the emotion in her eyes that she was definitely just as upset as chaewon.

“sit.”

you never wanted to disappoint sakura or chaewon. they were everything to you when everything meant nothing.

you gave a small nod and slowly moved to sit down on the floor in front of the couch, facing them. silence loomed and the tension was palpable, but you knew this was the consequences of your own actions.

“where were you?”

chaewon's voice was sharp as she demanded an explanation. sakura remained silent, her gaze fixed on you, awaiting your response. the weight of their disappointment pressed down on you, making it difficult to find the right words to explain your absence.

"i'm sorry," you stammered, feeling the heaviness of regret. "i got caught up in something important.”

chaewon's glare intensified, her frustration evident. "important? more important than our rehearsals and commitments? we depend on each other, and your absence affects us all."

sakura's expression softened slightly, but her voice still carried disappointment. "we're a team, and when one member is absent without communication, it jeopardizes us as a whole."

guilt washed over you, knowing that you had let them down. you hated disappointing your unnies. it was something you’d always done your best to avoid.

“i was with jimin.”

your voice was soft, and your head hung slightly. as you mentioned jimin's name, a mix of surprise and curiosity flashed across chaewon and sakura's faces.

the japanese girl’s thoughtful gaze shifted to you, and you could feel her assessing your demeanor, searching for any hidden emotions or lingering concerns. it was as if she could see through you.

sakura had a way of understanding without needing many words, her intuition guiding her towards a deeper comprehension of the situation at hand. she had seen your remorse and sincerity, but now she was looking for signs of growth and learning.

finally, she spoke up, her voice calm and measured.

“does yunjin know?”

a small sigh escaped your lips as you thought about the american. you two were not on good terms, and you knew that a conversation with her was needed as well. but for now, you needed to get through this one.

“no.”

sakura's brows furrowed slightly as she processed your response. she exchanged a glance with chaewon, and it was clear they were contemplating the best course of action.

chaewon spoke up, her tone stern yet tinged with concern. "yunjin needs to know. we can't keep this hidden within the group."

your lack of an answer made the room silent. it was obvious that you felt very uncomfortable about this.

the older girl spoke after your silence. she shifted and leaned forward to look at you closer. “you’re back with jimin, aren’t you?”

you hesitated, feeling a mix of vulnerability and apprehension. it was clear that sakura and chaewon had picked up on something, and the truth was difficult to conceal any longer.

with a heavy sigh, you nodded, unable to meet their gaze. the admission hung in the air, the weight of it causing your heart to race. you knew the potential consequences of your decision, the risks it posed to the dynamics within the group. even the oldest members knew that yunjin would not be happy with the news.

sakura's voice was gentle, tinged with concern. "are you sure about this, y/n?” chaewon began pacing back and forth, shaking her head in disapproval.

“why? after everything she did to you, why would you go back?” the leader asked as she looked down at you. you could see the look of disappointment on her face.

you took a deep breath, trying to find the right words to explain your decision. the memories of the past, the pain and the longing, resurfaced, making it difficult to articulate your emotions clearly. but you still let your truth be told.

"i know it may be hard to understand, but there's something between us, something that's difficult to let go of," you replied, your voice filled with a mix of sadness and determination. “even after all this time, i can’t forget about her.”

sakura's gaze softened, her understanding evident. "it's not always easy to rationalize. but we're concerned about the impact this might have on the group dynamics, especially considering your history with yunjin."

"y/n,” chaewon's frustration seemed to intensify as she shook her head. “i made a promise to both your sister and myself. i promised to take care of you.”

you met your leader’s gaze, your voice trembling slightly. "i understand your concerns, and i don't take them lightly. but i can't ignore the feelings i have for jimin. it's complicated, and i wish i had all the answers, but i know she’s different now.”

“how do you know that?” her eyes widened as she spoke to you. “how do you know for sure she won’t leave you in shambles like the last time?”

your heart ached at chaewon's questions, the echoes of doubt and fear mirroring your own inner turmoil. you understood where she was coming from, her protective instincts kicking in, but you also believed in the power of growth and change.

"i can't know for sure," you admitted, your voice laced with vulnerability. "but i've seen glimpses of it in jimin, moments where she's shown remorse and a genuine desire to make amends. i can just feel it. things are different this time."

“she ruined you,” chaewon shouted, her voice loud but her tone filled with despair. “i don’t want her to use you the same way…” the leader paused and stopped herself, staring at the ceiling to avoid tears from falling.

sakura poked the inside of her cheek as she looked at your visible confusion, eyes glancing towards chaewon who was now putting her hands over her face out of frustration.

“i don’t want her to use you the same way yunjin did.”

chaewon’s fists clenched as she watched the american exit your room slowly, hair disheveled and hickeys on her neck.

“yah,” she called out from the dim hallway, trying to get yunjin’s attention. “you need to stop doing this to her.”

yunjin raised an eyebrow at her leader, confusion on her features. “why? she doesn’t want me to stop.”

chaewon took a deep breath, her voice steady as she confronted yunjin. "this isn't just about what she wants in the moment, yunjin. it's about the long-term impact of your actions and the potential consequences they may have on her well-being."

yunjin crossed her arms, a defiant expression on her face. "she's a grown adult who can make her own decisions. if she wants to be with me, who are you to intervene?"

chaewon's gaze hardened, her voice laced with determination. "i'm her leader, and more importantly, yours as well. i care about her happiness and want what's best for her. and right now, i don't believe that what you're doing is in her best interest."

yunjin scoffed, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "oh, and you think you know what's best for her? just because you're the leader doesn't mean you have all the answers."

chaewon's eyes narrowed, her voice firm. "no, i don't have all the answers, but i have a responsibility to look out for the members of this group. and i won't stand by and watch her get hurt again."

you knew chaewon was right. you had always known yunjin’s actions were not what the appeared to be.

huh yunjin liked broken things to stay broken. it made her feel better about herself. it made her feel needed.

“yunjin isn’t jimin.”

as the words slipped from your lips, the room fell into a heavy silence. chaewon and sakura exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of surprise and curiosity. it was clear that your statement held a deeper meaning.

chaewon uncrossed her arms, her eyes remaining on you as she took a seat once again. "what do you mean?"

you took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. "i think yunjin liked having me attached to her because it made her feel needed. but it always felt like i was indebted to her. jimin is different. she has never asked me for anything until now." you brushed a stray tear away from your eye and continued speaking. “the only thing she’s asking me for now is a second chance, and i’m giving it to her.”

sakura's gaze remained fixed on you, her intuition guiding her understanding. "do you trust that she’s not going to hurt you again?"

you nodded, a sense of conviction settling within you. "yes, that's what i believe. jimin sees the value in my healing, in our healing together. she doesn't want to use me; she just wants to rebuild something healthy and meaningful."

chaewon's eyes softened finally, her voice filled with a mixture of concern still. "look, i just want you to be happy, but i also want to make sure you're making the right choice for yourself.”

you nodded again, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "we've talked about it extensively. we've acknowledged the mistakes of the past. we're willing to put in the work to build a healthy relationship."

sakura's thoughtful expression turned into a gentle smile. "then, if you truly believe in the growth and change within jimin, we'll support you. we'll be there for you every step of the way.”

chaewon's features softened, her gaze filled with a mix of understanding and acceptance. "i may not fully comprehend it right now, but i trust you, y/n. i trust your judgment and your ability to navigate your own path."

“you sound like my sister.” you chuckled softly, slowly rising to your feet. chaewon only gave you a quick smile as she took in the look on your face. you smiled, and she felt just a little bit relieved to see you actually were happy.

you threw your arms around sakura first, mumbling a strand of thank yous to her. the japanese girl chuckled as she patted your back gently.

once you let the oldest girl go, you moved to hug chaewon tightly. she was surprised at the sudden firmness, but it only brought a small smile to her face.

"thank you," you whispered, your voice filled with gratitude. "you’re the best leader ever.”

“you’re the best, eunbi!”

chaewon slowly wrapped her arms around you, ignoring the way her vision became watery. “of course, y/n.” she whispered, taking a glance at sakura, who only sent her a knowing smile.

perhaps she hadn’t failed you after all?

as she held you in her embrace, a mix of emotions swirled within her. her earlier doubts and feelings of inadequacy now seemed distant as she realized the support and understanding.

the tears that welled up in her eyes were not just those of sadness but also of relief and gratitude.

with a gentle squeeze, chaewon whispered, "i'm sorry if i ever made you doubt my care for you. i'm here for you, and i'll do my best to support you in whatever makes you happy."

sakura's knowing smile widened as she watched the exchange between the two of you. she had seen the doubts and struggles chaewon had carried, the weight of the leader's responsibility often burdening her. she was glad the other girl could see for herself that she was in fact a good leader.

and if she couldn’t see it right then and there, your words definitely did a better job instead.

"you've never failed me, unnie," you murmured, your voice filled with sincerity. "you've been there for me, even when i couldn't see it. i love you."

┊┊┊┊⋆ ✧　　 · 　 ✧　✵ ┊┊┊☆ *　　 * ⋆ ┊┊★ * ┊┊* . *　✦ ┊☆ ° ✧　　 · ★*

you and jimin met as trainees before she debuted, and you two never felt more in love. however, once she breaks up with you before her debut, you completely leave SM entertainment under the notion of needing a fresh start. you eventually debuted a few years later in le sserafim, where you met huh yunjin and have slowly started developing feelings for the idol. much to karina's dismay, she hates to see you have moved on, but deep in your own heart, you still can't help but feel as if maybe she has forgotten about you.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @captivq , @wonyoluvr , @yunalvrrr , @spritin , @babycubchae , @vnschldd , @sserafimez , @chaersly , @rosiehrs , @baldd , @bwljules , @jenaissantesworld , @jennasluma , @dream-chasers-things , @lcv3lies , @elyds , @archerheejin , @vnschldd , @skisk1 , @cfvgbhndun-new-blog , @silantryoo , @phamminji , @bzeus28 , @writingficsblog , @strangegirlcode , @uzumakioden , @noiacha , @sserabey , @archerheejin , @pindoris , @yourstrulytrissmerigold , @jisooftme , @yacii , @ddrummie , @justalittledissociation

[ 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 ]

#smau #kpop #kpop smau #aespa #lesserafim #yunjin x reader #aespa x reader #lesserafim x reader #huh yunjin #karina x reader #yu jimin #yu jimin x reader #about you #perfectsunlight

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cassynite · 2 years

Note

Could I get 💗📔⭐ for Sparrow? I'm quite curious about these :))

🥺 Thank you so much for the ask! I'm sorry I already answered two out of three of them but I've linked where I did below!

💗 What would your OC say is their best feature? Why? What do their friends / family / lover(s) / people they know think is their best feature and why?

Answered here!

📙 What kind of subjects (of conversation, of discussion, in school or whatever) does your OC find interesting or engaging or that they can talk for hours about? What kind of stuff do they just find fun?

What things bore your OC to tears and they couldn’t care less about? Why?

Answered here!

⭐ What is your OC afraid of? Any crippling phobias or some such? How do they act when scared and what helps them calm down? Does anyone ever find your OC scary? Why?

In general, Sparrow is afraid of letting someone close and them hurting her by leaving. It's where her general close-off guardedness comes from. In terms of external phobias, Sparrow gets frightened of tight spaces, imminent failure, and people touching the back of her neck. Her general fright response is to freeze and go very quiet and still while she internally freaks out and tries to come up with a solution to her problem. In very bad situations, she'll shut down entirely.

Calming her down requires some kind of external stimulation--immediately a distraction would work best for her, though in some cases direct discussion of what is frightening her also helps. When taken away from what is frightening her (if it's external), she'll work to calm down on her own in a timely manner so as to not be a burden.

I think Sparrow can be seen as a frightening figure as a natural byproduct of the mythic powers she receives--she is a focus for awe and fear throughout the Fifth Crusade, but more because of those powers than of anything she does. Her natural demeanor makes her easy to ignore and dismiss. However, if you make her truly angry, or she decides she has to target you as a matter of necessity, the single-minded focus with which she'll bring down her enemies can cut a terrifying figure.

#cassy answers #tehsammutna #oc: sparrow #thank you so much for the questions!

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mypunkpansexualtwin · 1 year

Text

This is a big one, going under a cut for several paragraphs of introspection and some brief mention of my last suicide attempt.

Hell of a thing, realizing this time last year was about the start of my Nuclear RSD Spiral that ultimately led to me trying to go play chicken with a freight train back in February with half a bottle of rum and a handful of sleep meds in my stomach to make sure I didn't flinch. Obviously I didn't, but I did get far enough that I had to drag my drunk ass off the train tracks and go stumbling back home to have the rest of my meltdown in peace and un-queue the suicide note I'd had prepped since last November. Fun stuff, crazy to think about.

Especially considering how I'm doing now that I've had the necessary wake up call from that whole situation and have finally started internalizing "hey, letting people see you hurting and hoping they'll decide you've suffered enough to deserve help is not the same as communicating your needs. Talk to people before it gets to your usual Talk About It After You Tried To Off Yourself About It. If it gets to this point again, next time won't be an attempt." (Fun stuff, lots to thank my grandparents for.)

And now I've got the right medication combo to help me keep an even keel. Wellbutrin/Vyvanse? Bad. Lamotrigine/Vyvanse? I might actually be a human being for the first time in my life. I've been getting a shower every night and brushing my teeth twice a day without fail since I started. And trust me when I say that's fuckin astronomical progress for me. Even when I found out it wasn't the case, part of me was still certain it was fake that people could just get up and do things without mentally screaming at themselves for anywhere between 2 hours to 4 months first. Shit, I can do it now and it still feels fake.

Anyways. The ability to Task was an expected improvement, as was the ability to regulate my momentum on said task better than without meds (ie, at fucking all). Although I figured it'd be a ways off to get this much improvement. I can put things down without freaking out (mostly) and I can pick them back up again after an interruption.

Another unexpected bonus too, I hadn't even thought to anticipate any change in another big factor at all. Like, not only did I not realize it was on the table, I hadn't realized that this particular table even existed. I figured this other issue couldn't improve with anything but another two years of therapy.

I've got a lot more control over regulating my emotions and the kind of obsessive, destructive thought spirals (usually RSD or my usual Leech And Burden thoughts or my brain cooking up scenarios to get upset about because they felt too real, or a fun combination of the three) that'd lead to me writing off entire days or weeks until I burnt myself out. Used to be these were so intense it'd just kind of gut me and I couldn't do anything but ride it out. Intense enough that I've had a couple mental health professionals tell me "yeah, no, it's not enough for formal diagnosis, but there's definitely strong evidence for OCD where the autism and ADHD overlap," one of whom went "right, that makes sense with what you've described about the last month, and speaking of the last month, i think we should consider going back to once a week since every three weeks hasn't been helping you." It used to be that the only way I could get these under control would be by heading them off before they got started or getting borderline blackout drunk in the middle of the spiral and distracting myself until I couldn't stay awake to think anymore. Both required sufficient distraction because every attempt at actually trying to take it apart and process just perpetuated it. Healthy, right?

But now, not only do the little things that used to sap my energy for the whole day now just breeze by like nothing (again, hygiene stuff), I can stop the spiral. They're not nearly as loud and sharp as they used to be and I can just... put them down. I've got the energy to do more and the control to just pick something else up until I'm ready. The bad ones still take a few tries, but that's huge after 25 years of "welp this is just the week we're having." And even bigger than that, it's already easier to pick it apart to find what needs fixing instead of just metaphorically cutting myself up while making a bigger mess.

It's also easier to not need my anger as a wall to keep between me and the people who have hurt me. For the first time since my granddad died, I can look at him and my grandmother as people through a sympathetic lense and still be able to say that the bridge there is burned and I won't be going back. I used to need to think of them as awful, irredeemable people just to keep from crawling back for their approval.

Don't get me wrong, I'm still pissed about everything that's hurt me deeply enough for my therapist to go poking at in the wake of a PTSD screener saying "yeah we're not even close to done, try again next year." But it's not the only thing that's there, and maybe someday I might even be able to scrape out my own closure instead of starving myself waiting for apologies that'll never come. Cleaning out the bullshit associated with the hurt didn't kick off the meltdown it would have even a month ago. The little scar from an arm-clawing meltdown last November is just a bitter little emotional bruise that I can push right back to the back of my mind until the dirt-spot mark finally fades out completely.

It's easier to not hate over it now. I've got more energy now and can finally use it for better things. Why waste it turning people into demons when I know damn well even if I wasn't the only one who fucked up and hurt people, I still did exactly that. And yeah, there's stuff I'm gonna stay bitter over, on both sides of things, and probably still mildly bitch about when the irritation of it decides to pop back in for a visit. That feels like a fair tradeoff for something that did still very much almost kill me, but it's not gonna stop me anymore. And it's not even a matter of "the best revenge is letting go and living well" because in the half dozen cases that stick the hardest, that wouldn't even be revenge. Fucked up as things ended, it's not like I was hated. Hell, maybe I'm lying to myself when I go this far, but I'd like to think that most of those people would be happy to see me doing better, even if they'd promptly turn right the fuck around and pretend they didn't see me at all.

Or maybe things did fester to a point where there's just as much animosity as I had for them and they'd rather see me lose a game of chicken a few more times before they can let go. God knows I was bitter enough for a good while to think pretty goddamn frequently that I hoped they were in just as much pain as I was. So yeah, that's also fair. Maybe they don't care either way, and as much as that idea stings the most, it's still entirely fair.

Regardless, I've got better things to do. I've got some self love and self respect to cultivate after realizing I was never given any kind of foundation besides "If You're Not Giving Everything, You're Not Worth Anything." Joked about it for years, but only in the last month did it actually Click. Admittedly I'm still falling into some of the same thinking, although instead of "I don't deserve the love people give me unless I'm Being Useful, I'm a manipulative liar if I get it without earning it," it's more like "I can finally Do Things, so I can finally deserve my own love." It's a brittle crutch, but that just means I know not to give it too much weight while I get my feet under me and start building the foundation I actually deserve. Because people deserve love and I'm a people too, goddammit.

Anyways, this was a big long rant partly for myself and partly for the six of you who've paid attention and might wanna know how I've been doing. I'm still standing, let's see where it takes me. For now, I'm gonna go be gay with my girlfriend of 6 months as of last week.

#answers to questions nobody asked #not sure if i should put this one in the bitching tag just for archival purposes or not #give myself a way to look back on the whole mess and then have one bit like #okay yeah i almost turned myself into half a mile of mincemeat courtesy of the bnsf over the last year of shit trying to kill me #but i didn't and i got better shit now for surviving it #long post #suicide #suicide mention #logan's bitching again

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jerzwriter · 2 years

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(The first paragraph sounds like I'm judging, but I swear I’m not! I’ll explain better in the next one.)

I saw you said, “I couldn’t do that to them.” Meaning you couldn’t have Tobias and Casey not getting a happy ending together. And we’ve seen Ethan losing the girl more than once, sometimes is for some years, sometimes is forever. And, unlike Casey and Tobias, in some stories someone better for them does come along in time. In no way I’m judging YOUR decisions on YOUR story based on YOUR character.

But this is the perception I have from your work. T&C is the “fairytale” couple who always gets their happy ending, they love each other in every universe and there’s no one better for them than each other. While E&K/C feels more like a normal couple who can broke up/separate, find someone else and move on, or not, they can also find their way back to each other.

And there’s nothing wrong with it. I take it the same way of having T&C portraying the “big happy family” and E&K/C portraying the “small happy family”. Different approaches to different people.

That's why it makes me curious to know if this is made deliberate or just something your mind does unconsciously, and it jumps into your writing?

Because we know fucked up people tend to fuck up things more in life. And we know Ethan is the perfect example for that, given his complexity. So if someone is going to often lose love it makes sense it’s not the man with two loving parents, rich, handsome, with charm and a good heart.

And it’s something I admire from your stories, HC or AU, the characters tend to stay in the same spectrum of their personality. I think that’s why I see things this way? Like a collection of Ethans and Tobiases lol following a pattern of conducts. Hence my question! It's this something that just happened or you made it this way for a reason?

I hope this made sense :)

Ah, Nonny. I wish we could meet up someplace with a cup of coffee (tea for me) and a couple cookies and talk about love and all that goes with it for hours. I can go on and on about it.

The truth is love is a dangerous game. It shouldn't be, but it is. The greatest highs, the lowest lows... and precious few emerge unscathed. That's kind of OK, though, because I think it's from those scars that we learn who we are, who we want to be, and who we want to be with IF we want to be with anyone (because it's not a requirement).

None of my pairings will ever be permanently separated in my headcanons for them. That's where each is the other's perfect match, their soulmate, their forever. Not bringing irreparable sadness there.

In AUs, anything is game. The only time I permanently ended Tobias/Casey was in Till I See You Again, where Casey died. But it's not to say I never would. Although, after living through the after-effects of "hurting" a pairing, the idea of one couple being the one that will fall in love and stay together in any world is appealing to me. (Hi @liaromancewriter), even if I don't necessarily believe in this concept in real life.

I think all of us are a little broken. Tobias is not perfect, either. Sure, he had parents who modeled a loving relationship, but sometimes their relationship was so all-encompassing he felt like an outsider, even as a young child. Then there was the racial dynamics. Tobias didn't feel his father did enough to understand what it meant to be black in America. He certainly didn't think he did enough to understand what it was like for Tobias to grow up in our society, and he felt he tried to whitewash him. This led to their estrangement, and they didn't get to fully heal before his father's untimely death. His younger brother resented Tobias terribly at the time. He felt he left him to carry much of the burdens of the family alone, and he borderline hated Tobias for a bit, thinking he hurt their father and he had to die feeling that pain. All of this led to him making some seriously fucked up choices and could have permanently derailed any relationship.

Kaycee/Casey is really the most together - two loving parents who doted on her and supported her every step of the way. She has a secure base and knows she is loved unconditionally. Yet, her mother suffered a long-term illness and nearly died, and that had lifelong effects on K/C. She also had insecurities that did not stem from her family life which did impact some choices she made and could have derailed things easily.

Now let's jump out of OH land and go to WTD-land. Eli & Zoe are literally living in a zombie apocalypse. They've seen/experienced loss and horrors most of us can only imagine. The "broken-ness" is REAL for both, even though they process it very differently. Yet, in my mind, when they come together, they cherish what they share even more than others because of what they've endured. They know it's a precious gift, and they're going to fight for it. Beyond that, they love each other, scars and all, because there is an understanding. We've been through hell, it's impacted who we are, but I still love you completely. In some ways, it's the purest love of any pairing I have.

Ethan had his struggles, he had his damage for sure, but I don't think it's anything insurmountable. It only is when Ethan refuses to acknowledge it and move forward. Where he fights rather than accepts. I think there is so much beauty in his character because of the broken parts that are put back together so beautifully. In some worlds (DTI), he comes to a place of healing through terrible decisions and painful loss. In others (like HC), he comes to the same place through patience and love. But he is worthy of love, and I hope I always make that clear.

I truly love all of my pairings, I just love them in different ways, because they're so unique.

#whats love got to do with it #like a lot lol #asks answered

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dreamskinaesthetic · 1 year

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Laser Hair Removal Service in Butwal

Have you had enough of shaving, waxing, or plucking unwanted body hair? Do you get acne-like outbreaks or razor bumps after removing undesired hair? If so, a laser hair removal service could be something to think about.

Dermatologists utilize lasers to safely and efficiently eliminate unsightly facial and body hair. Modern technology has made it safe for the majority of people to undergo laser hair removal.

What is Laser Hair Removal?

Unwanted body hair can be reduced or removed without surgery by using lasers. For people with excessive body hair who are searching for a practical technique to efficiently reduce or eliminate hair from both big and tiny parts of their bodies, it may be a viable solution.

What are the benefits of Laser Hair Removal?

Laser hair removal is one of the least painful and time-consuming methods of removing unwanted body hair. Being a time-saving and painless method of hair removal, laser hair removal service has various benefits. They are:

Laser hair removal doesn't take long. Contrary to popular belief, laser hair removal is quick. The arms and legs take around an hour to treat, compared to about 20 minutes for the underarms or bikini area. You shouldn't anticipate spending more than an hour at the spa for laser hair removal; you'll be done quickly.

You'll ultimately save money. You won't need as many razors, shaving supplies, waxing sessions, etc. after laser hair removal treatments. You'll spend less money, spend less time, and get results that last longer overall with laser hair removal.

Smooth Skin. Thanks to laser hair removal, it is no longer necessary to spend time shaving or making appointments for waxing. Additionally, errors and missing places are no longer a burden to you. Without the trouble of shaving or waxing, you can enjoy clean-shaven skin.

Avoids and eliminates hair growth. Using this technique can help you prevent acquiring bothersome ingrown hairs that require removal. For those with sensitive skin who feel skin irritation after shaving or waxing, a laser hair removal is a good option for them.

How does Laser Hair Removal work?

In order to precisely target the hair follicles, which are tiny openings in the skin where hair develops, laser hair removal uses focused light. As the laser is drawn to the melanin pigment in the hair and absorbed by the hair follicle, the hair swiftly vanishes.

The laser hair removal service has three steps to it, and each step is equally important and the procedure should be followed. The process of how laser hair removal works are:

Before Laser Hair Removal

During Laser Hair Removal

After Laser Hair Removal

Before Laser Hair Removal

Take a look at your medical background, paying attention to any prescription medication use, any skin conditions or scars, as well as any prior hair removal methods. Disclose any potential risks, benefits, and outcomes of laser hair removal, as well as what it can and cannot do for you.

Take pictures for long-term assessments and side-by-side comparisons. Throughout the session, talk about a treatment plan and any associated costs. Typically, the expense of laser hair removal falls on the patient.

During Laser Hair Removal

The doctor will use a handheld laser device to treat your skin. Depending on the kind of laser, your skin may be protected with a cooling device or cold gel to reduce the likelihood of adverse effects.

The laser beam enters your skin and passes through to the hair follicles when the doctor turns on the laser. Hair follicles are damaged by the laser's extreme heat, which inhibits hair growth. You could experience cold from the cooling device or gel and discomfort, like a hot pinprick.

After Laser Hair Removal

In the initial few hours following laser hair removal, you may experience redness and swelling. To relieve discomfort, apply ice to the afflicted area. If you experience an immediate skin reaction after laser hair removal, your doctor may apply a steroid cream to the affected area.

Unless your doctor directs you otherwise, avoid the sun and tanning salons for six weeks following laser hair removal and throughout the interval between sessions.

Is Laser Hair Removal Permanent?

A damaged hair follicle cannot regenerate hair. Those who have had their hair removed, on the other hand, should expect some hair growth in the treated area.

The short answer is no. Laser hair removal heats the hair follicles, preventing future hair growth. In contrast to shaving and waxing, this causes the hair follicles to remain dormant for an extended period of time.

#bestskincare #laser hair removal #dreamskinaesthetic

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mental-mona · 1 year

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How the Mentally Ill Can Improve Their Relationships

I've done multiple posts already on how people should treat loved ones with mental illnesses. Now I'd like to look at the other side of the equation: ways for us mentally ill folks to optimize our interactions with others so that we get the support we need without frustrating everyone around us. Before you start yelling at me that it's not our job to worry about how our mental illnesses make our friends feel, let me make it clear that while in theory I agree with you on that, in reality the rest of the world is going to get annoyed with us very quickly if we just kind of throw ourselves out there with no thought to how our behavior is affecting our loved ones. Agreed, when people react to us in super annoying ways or decide that they're "sick of our drama" and cut us off, their meanness is not our fault. However, these are some things we can do to improve the connection from our end, and maybe even prevent some of the irritating behavior.

TL;DR: Don't expect free therapy or mind-reading, tell them how best to deal with you that day, and accept that any one person's ability to help you is limited. Maybe it requires a bit more mindfulness than you're used to, but it's not impossible, and unless your loved ones are either complete jerks or already burned out, these things make a difference. Give them a shot.

Tell your loved ones what you need from them as best you can. Your friends may not have any experience with mental illness and therefore have no clue what you need at any given time; they need to be able to take their cues from you. Before you call/message your loved ones, stop and think about what responses you're looking for in each conversation, then express what it is you need. You're much more likely to get the support you want if you can tell them at the start of a conversation that, for example, you just need to vent, or you need reassurance, or you need their help with a chore.

Tell your loved ones if something they're saying/doing is hurtful. As I said, people are clueless, and sometimes the most well-meaning ones can say and do the stupidest things. Since your loved ones are not mind readers, if something they're doing is annoying you, politely call them on it and if possible suggest a better way to treat you. As with any conflict, use "I statements" and try to be nice about it to the extent that you can without toning down your message. If someone just won't stop, perhaps they're not someone you want in your life right now.

Warn your loved ones if today's mood requires extra understanding. It's hard for people to deal with weird behaviors and displays of emotion if they're blindsided by them. If something about your mood requires extra consideration, e.g. you're manic and might burst into giggle fits or say wildly inappropriate things, or you're super anxious about seeing your folks and just the word "mother" will make you burst into tears, warn your loved ones about that at the beginning of your conversations. That way there's less potential for them to step on emotional landmines or be completely thrown off by your disconcerting behavior.

Back off if a loved one can't help you at a given moment. Sometimes people are busy when you call, or are shouldering their own huge life burdens and won't be able to carry any more weight for a while. Don't take it personally; they'd be there for you if they could, but now (and possibly the foreseeable future) is not a good time. Don't give them an "Oh, I guess you're busy/have bigger problems than me, that's ok I'll just go sit in my puddle of self-pity" guilt trip, don't insist on talking anyway, just wish them well and try again another time.

Don't get too clingy. No one person should have to bear the burden of all your sorrows on top of their own. Have multiple confidantes, and regularly switch up who gets the job of being your rock for that week/day/hour. If your coping mechanism involves talking to a ton of friends on a regular basis, each friend should get the daily digest, not 3 calls a day of little tidbits. In fact, unless you're trying to set up plans to see each other that day, you should probably leave it after 2 attempts at calling if you only get voicemail. If you prefer instant messaging, as I said above, respect your loved ones' time and don't go nuts if they don't answer you immediately or have to leave or whatever, don't try to talk to them every spare moment, and don't make a habit of kvetching at them the second they come online. Roughly the same goes for texting.

Don't turn your loved ones into surrogate therapists. Loved ones are there to be generally emotionally and sometimes physically supportive, but it's not their job to help you process every thought and emotion or get to the root of deep-seated problems. Questions like, "I think that my craving for approval is at the heart of most of my issues. Does this make sense to you?," are topics that are far more suited to discussions with your therapist than discussions with your friends. Basically, the issue is this: Your therapist is trained to advise and/or guide you in a direction that will eventually lead to you resolving your issues. Your loved ones are not so trained, and may give you bad advice or quite simply be clueless as to how to respond.

#mental health #mental illness #what to do #how to act #mental health awareness month #relationships #improving your relationships #long post #mm.txt #communicating and relating

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burleighcentralphysio · 1 year

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Restore Your Muscles Function by Choosing Best Physio

Doesn’t matter you are sportsperson or a normal man, you can experience muscle hurt. Whenever your muscles hurt, you are painfully aware of the fact. You need to take a step back & make sure your body is ready for the intense amount of training you have been doing. Make sure you are giving yourself adequate time to recuperate and heal if you are going through something tough. The burden of ensuring that everything is in order falls squarely on your shoulders.

But, what about physical therapy? You can get the results you want with the help of physiotherapy because it provides an alternative method of properly treating your muscles. Many scientific investigations into the medical benefits of water have consistently found positive results. Although physiotherapy and service of Best Massage On The Gold Coast has been around for a while, it has recently experienced a resurgence in popularity.

A clinical health discipline, physiotherapy employs a wide range of treatment modalities to aid with recovery. Finding a reputable rehabilitation center is essential if you want reliable help with your recovery.

Find service of best Bulk Billing Physio who will treat you as a whole person, not just a collection of symptoms, since you want to be heard and cared for. You, as the patient, will need to have an inquiring mind and consider every recommendation made for your therapy. The key will be to do everything exactly as stated in the instructions and not use any kind of alternatives.

There are several steps to take before visiting a potential new rehabilitation center.

Your first order of business should be to investigate scheduling a preliminary consultation. Unfortunately, many individuals want to acquire a mile-long list of things they must perform right this second in order to get better immediately. Your muscles, unfortunately, are more intricate than that. Not ensuring that you are aimlessly drifting through life is the goal. Let yourself plenty of time to recuperate and become healthier before returning to normal activities. Athletes sometimes struggle to accept the fact that recovery time is equally as crucial as intense training.

The hours of operation for each treatment center with Dry Needling may vary. You should consider the location of potential options in order to select the one that works best with your timetable. You should not worry that you will fall behind in terms of productivity. Focusing on the larger picture is all it takes. Do not give up; in due time, you’ll be able to take care of everything that needs your attention.

There are some injuries that, no matter how skilled the physiotherapist, require a predetermined period of rest and rehabilitation.

In some sessions, a competent and professional Miami Physio will take the time to assess and reassess the patient’s progress. This is not meaningless filler during therapy, but rather the driving force for the treatment’s success. When the service of Physio Bundall has a thorough assessment, they may target their treatment more precisely.

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downundersmoker · 1 year

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Tips & Tricks for Mouthwatering Meat from The Art of BBQ Smoking

Grill smoking is a culinary custom that has been passed down through the ages. Whether it's pork ribs, brisket, or chicken, smoking meat gives it a rich and smoky flavor that is difficult to stand up to. However, assuming you're new to the universe of BBQ smoking, the interaction can appear to be overwhelming. Dread not, with the right instruments and methods, you can also become a BBQ smoking expert.

The most important phase in becoming amazing at BBQ smoking is picking the right smoker. There are many sorts of smokers available, including electric, gas, and charcoal. Each type enjoys its own benefits and burdens, so picking the one that best suits your requirements and budget is significant. Numerous specialists favor charcoal smokers for their capacity to create a steady temperature and impart a unique smoky flavor.

When you have your smoker, now is the ideal time to pick the right wood. The kind of wood you use will significantly influence the kind of meat you make. A few famous woods for BBQ smoking incorporate hickory, mesquite, and oak. It's vital to take note of the fact that a few woods consume more smoke than others, so make certain to investigate as needed prior to choosing your wood.

Then, now is the right time to set up your meat. This is where the genuine enchantment occurs. Before you start smoking, it's critical to cut back on any overabundance and apply a rub or marinade to your meat. This will help with imbuing flavor into the meat and keeping it damp during the smoking process. When your meat is prepared and your smoker is started, now is the right time to get smoking. The key to effective smoking is maintaining a predictable temperature. This can be accomplished through careful observation of your smoker and changing the wind stream and wood on a case-by-case basis.

Numerous specialists suggest smoking meat low and slow, at a temperature between 225 and 250 degrees Fahrenheit, for a few hours. At last, when your meat is smoked flawlessly, now is the ideal time to enjoy it! Numerous specialists prescribe permitting your meat to rest for 10–15 minutes prior to cutting to permit the juices to rearrange. Taking everything into account, BBQ smoking is a fine art that requires persistence, practice, and tender loving care. With the right instruments and procedures, anybody can become a BBQ smoking expert. So fire up your smoker, pick the right wood, and prepare to intrigue your loved ones with mouth-watering, smoky meat.

For More Info:-

BBQ Smoker Australia

BBQ Smoker Store Australia

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medisupplements · 2 years

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If like me, you've been lively within the mind-body-spirit motion for a while, I'm fairly certain you've used inventive visualization. The likelihood is you have additionally heard of or used some kind of mind wave entrainment. As you already know, coaching your mind waves generally is a very efficient technique for private development. Completely different mind wave states will produce totally different outcomes for you. So what are mind waves? Your mind is made up of billions of mind cells known as neurons, which use electrical energy to speak with one another. The mix of thousands and thousands of neurons sending alerts without delay produces a major quantity of electrical exercise within the mind, which may be detected by delicate medical tools equivalent to an electroencephalogram (EEG). This electrical exercise of the mind is usually generally known as a mind wave sample, resulting from its cyclical, 'wave-like' nature. You'll be able to prepare your mind to alter your mind waves by studying meditation and leisure methods. Nonetheless, it will possibly take weeks, and for some folks even years, to expertise the confirmed and highly effective advantages of mind wave coaching via meditation alone. There's additionally a shortcut to getting the very best out of your mind waves through the use of an audio tone generally known as binaural beats. Binaural beats successfully entrain and sync your brainwaves to reinforce any particular brainwave sample. This lets you shortly enter states of leisure, focus, excessive power, or meditation every time you need. What are the advantages of modifying our mind waves? Normally, we're used to being within the beta mind rhythm. We're in a Beta mind wave sample after we are consciously alert. It's the default and dominant mind wave for many of us more often than not. We're in Beta after we really feel agitated, tense, rushed, pressured, scared and burdened. Frequencies vary from 13 to 60 pulses per second on the Hertz scale. Once we alter our mind rhythm to alpha, we're slowing down our mind waves. The advantage of that is that we put ourselves within an excellent mind state for optimum efficiency and tremendous studying. We turn into higher at analyzing advanced conditions, studying new info, memorizing facts, and finishing elaborate duties. Some types of meditation, leisure workouts, and actions that permit for a way of calm additionally naturally create this alpha state. In accordance with neuroscientists, the impact of slowing the mind's rhythm from beta to alpha via deep leisure methods and the usage of binaural beats for mind coaching modifications the degrees of sure useful chemical compounds within the mind. Research present that alpha states considerably enhance beta-endorphin, norepinephrine, and dopamine. These pure chemical compounds are linked to emotions of higher psychological readability and create an inner surroundings for brand spanking new studying and entry to beforehand discovered info. This optimistic impact lasts for hours and even days. The 5 classes of mind waves beta mind waves (Alert from 14 to 32 Hz, centered) Beta is the commonest mind wave sample: Beta mind waves happen after we are absolutely awake, alert, lively, and engaged in psychological exercise, which usually entails extra of the rational, reality-oriented left hemisphere of our mind. When the beta wave exercise turns into very intense, our mind hemispheres turn into much less synchronized. Beta standing is required to perform correctly in your on a regular basis life. Options and advantages of a beta standing That is the mind wave for the battle and flight response. Elevated focus and application Enhancing logic, reasoning and demanding considering. Emotions of tension, stress, scattered and unfocused considering alpha mind waves (7 to 14 Hz relaxed however conscious, meditative) These are low-frequency waves: The state is generated

when our ideas will not be actually centered and our thoughts wanders freely, or we're in a relaxed state like meditating or daydreaming. We additionally expertise alpha mind waves after we are gently engaged in routine duties like gardening, showering, placing on make-up, doing mild house responsibilities. Alpha is taken into account the bridge between the aware thoughts and the unconscious thoughts. Traits and advantages of an alpha state Our cerebral hemispheres are naturally synchronized or in sync with one another. Relaxed and indifferent (distracted) consciousness and dreamy thoughts. It permits us to recollect our desires and meditative states. Hyperlink between the aware and unconscious thoughts, gateway to meditation. Receptive to informal and computerized options (state of hypnosis) Elevated vividness advantages inventive visualization and prompts the creativeness Elevated reminiscence retention, focus and focus for tremendous studying Health advantages embrace: lowered anxiousness Relieves stress and melancholy. Reduces power ache Discount of hypertension Will increase sports activities' efficiency Elevated cerebral blood circulation Larger motivation, power and happiness. theta mind waves (Deep leisure from 3.5 to 7 Hz, twilight state) Theta mind wave states have been utilized in meditation for hundreds of years: it's common for folks to really feel as if they're in a trance, the place the thoughts feels as if it has fallen asleep though it's conscious of what's going on round it. Theta induces a chronic dreaminess, the place a lack of time may be skilled. Theta waves additionally promote visualization and creativity and the thoughts on this very relaxed state could be very receptive to direct suggestion beneath hypnosis. As with Alpha, in Theta our cerebral hemispheres are in sync and we expertise complete mind functioning. Traits and advantages of Theta mind waves Larger sense of inside peace and emotional stability. deep leisure improved reminiscence Larger instinct and inspiration. calm the chatter of your thoughts Elevated psychic skills and sense of non secular connection. Health Advantages of Theta Mind Waves Quick Therapeutic, Enhanced Bodily Therapeutic Onset of sleep and higher, extra restful sleep Launch useful hormones associated to health and longevity. Scale back psychological fatigue Discount of tension and stress. NOTE: Analysis has proven that thirty minutes a day of Theta meditation can dramatically enhance a person's general health and well-being. Theta meditation can also be identified to cut back the necessity for sleep. delta mind waves (Deep sleep from 0.1 to three.5 Hz) That is the slowest waveband our mind produces and happens after we are in deep, dreamless sleep. These waves are very useful for the physique which restores and heals itself when on this state. The delta state releases anti-aging hormones, together with melatonin and DHEA. Human Development Hormone (HGH) is one other anti-aging hormone that will increase when delta mind waves are produced inside the mind, resulting from stimulation of the pituitary gland. HGH maintains your physique's pores and skin, bone density, cartilage and joints and hastens the therapeutic means of joint and cartilage accidents. HGH may also assist heal bodily ache. In wholesome quantities, delta mind waves may also trigger a person to have a complicated state of empathy, understanding, and compassion for others. Delta is the place of the deepest leisure, the deepest therapeutic, the deepest nonsecular connection and the deepest reference to the unconscious thoughts. It's thought of to be the gateway to the unconscious thoughts and the collective unconscious, offering entry to the psyche or common thoughts. gamma mind waves (40 Hz or increased: mastery of the zen thoughts) Gamma mind wave states are the quickest in frequency. Gamma

has lengthy been thought of the mind wave that may hyperlink and course of info from all components of the mind. It's the frequency that brings with it the flexibility to course of giant quantities of data in a comparatively quick time. Consider producing extra Gamma exercise like getting a processor improve to your mind. Sadly, gamma mind waves have obtained the least consideration and analysis, though extra consideration is at present being paid to them. Having giant quantities of Gamma Brainwave exercise has been related to: Have excessive ranges of intelligence. be compassionate Have an excessive amount of self-control. Having increased than common emotions of pure happiness. Elevated consciousness via your 5 senses. Analysis has indicated that at occasions when bursts of precognition, or high-level info processing, happen, your mind waves briefly attain the Gamma state. Every of us can use brainwave entrainment to attain quite a lot of outcomes. It's possible you'll wish to goal a selected brainwave frequency vary that will help you chill out. Alternatively, you could wish to enhance your inventive power, enhance your reminiscence, deepen your sleep, or get higher outcomes from taking part in a sport. What do you assume? Have you ever used mind coaching to enhance your meditation, enhance focus, or aid you sleep? Have you ever downloaded the free binaural beats audios from this website? We might love to listen to about your experiences. As all the time, your interplay with our posts creates a reservoir of knowledge for all of our readers to learn from, so please share your ideas, tales and questions within the remark field beneath and bear in mind to tweet, like and +1 ~ thanks

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