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heavy in your arms.

12/04/2019 07:35 PM 

call of the hounds / part 001: the birth of a killer.

  Dominik was fifteen when he first fell in love, and for the longest time he was convinced it was at first glance. At first, he believed she would never notice him, he was far too lanky and poor, and she was from one of the richest families in Romania, a country only know for its tales of dark creatures of the night. --- And for awhile she didn’t notice him, he’d seen her out and about, usually accompanied by her mother or another young boy their age.  Upon seeing the boy by her side, he had returned to caring for all the stray dogs he loved so dearly, maybe love wasn’t meant for him. Little did he know that she had been watching him too, curious about the poor boy with the hounds. Her name was Mirena.   The raven haired boy speaks to her one evening when one of the stray hounds decides to take a tear at her silk dress, and in a blind panic he snatches the small dog off the ground, hazel eyes wide with fear. He wouldn’t let any harm come to his dogs, even if the girl he loved found them repulsive, “I’m sorry about him, he’s only a puppy.” Speaking up, he can only hope that she’ll understand, dog’s were a lot like human children when they were young, except they used their teeth to ease their curiosity. She surprises him when she laughs, and he can feel his heart throb at the sound, “I have plenty more at home, does he have a name?” Dominik falls even more in love that evening, shocked that she would eventually become his dearest friend.A few months later, the dog that had brought them together was shot by a man in the village, and he’d shown up at her door covered in blood, the body heavy in his arms. He was lucky that the person who answered the door was Mirena herself, otherwise her parents would have had him arrested for merely trespassing on their lavish property. She immediately stares down at the corpse in his arms, tears welling in her eyes. Dominik is dragged inside, her grip tight on his arm as she leads him to the backyard. That evening they bury the dog that had brought them together, promising that no other animal in the village would be harmed in his memory. They were nothing but foolish kids then, but that would change with time.As their time together shifts to a year, his mother had lost another job, leaving them desperate for cash. When the week begins, his mother begins bringing home various men, and he doesn’t see her again until the sun flees the sky, replaced by the dim glow of the moon. Her face is bruised, and her dress torn, but she has money, and he tries his best to accept it. A dull anger begins to burn within him, threatening to erupt at any time, his mother’s new method of employment leaving him enraged. He wasn’t angry with her, but with the man that dared to harm her, to use her as some sort of piece of meat, he wanted to strangle the life from them, but he would say nothing, his mother barely speaking to him anymore. Stricken with overwhelming rage, he’d often retreat to Mirena’s place, burying his tired face in her shoulder. Gods did he love her, but he would never tell her, she still loved that other boy.Winter comes, and with it he has grown to be sixteen, looking more like his dead father everyday. His mother often weeps when December comes, reminded of father’s passing after years of battling cancer. He shows no emotion, knowing he’d have to be strong for her, and continue to carry the family name, even if it felt like it had died with him all those years ago.  The boy Mirena loves proves himself to be unfaithful, Dominik is the one to discover this one evening upon his return home. He passes an alleyway where he sees the boy locking lips with another woman, a woman that walked the streets for money to feed herself or her family. He holds no anger for the woman, only for the boy who was supposed to love Mirena faithfully. --- He reveals what he’d witnessed, and she cries in his arms that night, he says nothing to insult the boy, for she loved him, and he would not mock that. Another year passes, and they’re both seventeen now. It’s dark, and he’s walking her home when she reveals something he never expected to hear from her. She confesses that she loves him, and that they will discuss come morning. He agrees as he watches her run inside, a genuine smile on his face.That night he falls asleep hopeful for the future, hopeful that he’ll finally be able to love her with everything in him.   Emboldened by the returned feelings, he agrees to meet her that morning, and he does just that. The sun had barely risen when she finally arrives, taking a seat beside him on the ground. Hazel eyes turned to admire her, the infatuation bleeding through every nervous glance and gentle touch. She knows he’s loved her for years, but he’d been reserved with his affection, preferring her friendship over letting his foolish heart rule his actions. He’d never been jealous or hateful towards the one she had loved previously, he had only hated him the moment he’d betrayed her trust.Scarred hands reach for her face, each palm framing a pale cheek; he touches her like she’ll shatter in his hands, his eyes full of genuine love for her, “I have loved you for so long..” His words fall short when he notices that she isn’t moving. Terrified, he releases her, and her body hits the ground. She lays there frozen in time, and tears streamed down his face. Horrified, he looks at his hands, and then over at her lifeless body. His love had poisoned her, his touch claiming her life, something as good as her had died because of something as evil as him.Dragging her body into his arms, he hides his face in her hair, releasing a shrieking sob of agony. This was the first like he’d take, and it wouldn’t be the last.

🇧​🇷​🇴​🇰​🇪​🇳​ crown.

12/04/2019 06:31 PM 


What is your writing style? Where do you prefer to write? How do you write? Etc. I am a literate, multi-para roleplayer. However, this is not something I'm strict on; sometimes my muse gets away from me and suddenly I've written over a thousand words, sometimes I'm lazy and do a semi-para (or upon request for the latter), I quite enjoy IM or status banter. If we are doing a bigger roleplay, I honestly don't care whether it's messages or comments. I usually go to comments, because I like the use of HTML, but if my partner prefers messages, it's fine with me. Do you require anything of your partners? I only require two things of my partners: 1.) Don't be an a**hole OOC. Be an a**hole all you want IC, especially if it's the type of relationship our characters have, but if you're a d*ck OOC, I'm not going to want anything to do with you. (Note: I'm usually pretty good at telling the difference between "I'm being an a**hole to be funny" and "I'm actually just an a**hole.") 2.) Please try to write to the best of your ability, and if you struggle with it, try to make use of the grammar and spell checkers. I need to be able to understand what you're saying, and some sort of separation between speech and action/internal thought. Have you made any changes to your character/how do you play Regulus? I play Regulus as close to canon as I possibly can, given our limited information. I see him as similar to Draco in some ways, however, they definitely have their differences. He's certainly spoiled and has a bit of a superiority complex when it comes to his blood status and family, but he's not outwardly arrogant, loud, or in people's faces about it. If it was up to him, he'd keep to himself, and most of the crowd he hangs around with is because it's what expected of him/them. How I see his relationship with The Dark Lord/Death Eaters: Like Draco, he grew up in a house where he was taught that he was better than the people around him because of his blood status and family name. In his youth, he didn't question this, even though Sirius did. He idolized Voldemort and his ideas. He probably wouldn't have joined the Death Eaters on his own accord, but his parents saw his admiration and believed it'd look good for them, so they encouraged him to join. It wasn't long after he got the mark that he realized what Voldemort was truly like, and what being a Death Eater actually meant. He spent a bit of time in the background, trying to get by without drawing too much attention to himself, either positive or negative. This is why Voldemort let a hint about him having Horcruxes slipped, and he turned his focus into being a double agent, though he didn't report to anyone. He still wasn't brave enough to join the Order, talk to his brother, or anything, just keeping to himself. Kreacher was the only person he confided it in, and it was mostly because of information he needed (he genuinely cared about Kreacher but wouldn't have confided anything about opposing Voldemort without him having information he needed.) How I see his realtionship with Sirius: Regulus loves Sirius, more than he should, and he knows that. They were closer when they were young, and it hurt Regulus deeply as he felt his brother starting to slip away. He hates that he loves him, and spent a lot of time wishing he could have the courage to be honest with his family, and join his brother on Dumbledore's side. That doesn't mean there isn't a lot of resentment, especially after Sirius left. He feels like he's blamed for not being a rebel or having a different moral compass than his brother. There's a feeling of living in his shadow, while also having to make up for Sirius' betrayal. It puts a lot of weight on his shoulders. In a world, his relationship with Sirius is complicated.How I see his relationship with his family: Regulus doesn't want to disappoint his family. He always had a weight and pressure on him, and after Sirius began to rebel and ultimately getting disowned, the weight got heavier, and he experienced so much pressure anyone else may have cracked under it. He's seen what his brother went through, and decides he can't go through that too; he doesn't think he'd survive it. Especially since he's only really been surrounded by other Slytherins and doesn't have the support system Sirius had. His boggart would probably be his name blasted off the wall, like the other "disappointments." He respects and likes his father a little more, being the less neuroic of his parents. He treats them both with respect, though some may have a hard time believing he's a son and not someone who works for the Blacks or something. Even in death, he was afraid of their disapproval, telling Kreacher to inform the family of a false story, rather than the truth.Was his death a suicide? In a way. I definitely don't think he was bothered by the fact the mission would lead to his death. He couldn't stay a Death Eater, leaving and/or running away wasn't an option, and he wasn't naive enough to think that what he was doing would be enough to end Voldemort's reign, just damage it. He did what he thought would eventually have a positive change on the world, and would hopefully stop Voldemort. I don't think he went to the water with the intention of death, or did the mission because it would kill him, but it was a bonus and something that didn't bother him. I woudn't be surprised if he truly did off himself, had he survived the mission, though. My character is from after Regulus died. Can we still do a story? Can we do something that doesn't involve Time-Turners? Absolutely. We can either come up with a storyline-specific AU that's just for you and me, or we can toy around with other ideas that I already have/may be using in other SLs. A popular AU I've seen throughout fanfic is a swap of storylines with Regulus and Severus, where Severus either dies or goes to Azkaban, and Regulus is the one who becomes Potions teacher at Hogwarts. We could do something where Regulus fakes his death, or just disappears and goes into hiding. There are a lot of ideas that can be played with, especially with how little we know about him. I'm pretty flexible and willing to listen to ideas you may have as well. What is your opinion on romance storylines? A love interest? What sexuality is Regulus? I'm all for romance storylines/love interests, though I also like stuff outside it. I don't have one specific thing I ship for Regulus, I just ship chemistry. If our characters have chemistry, cool. As long as they're not super closely related (Sirius, Bella, Andi, Cissa, Tonks, Harry, etc.) then I'm all for it. I'm probably not going to have just one specific love interest, though. I like the freedom to explore a variety of storylines, which may include romance with more than one writer; if this bothers you, then our characters can remain platonic. Don't jump into something with me, and then get mad if you find out I'm writing a romance line with someone else too - this is your warning. As for sexuality, I see Regulus as mostly straight, but I think he'd be open to experimenting if he either believed it was short term, or if it's in a storyline where he isn't trying to please his parents. Same-sex relationships are frowned upon with purebloods because of the lack of ability to produce an heir (they'd just as much disapprove of a relationship with someone infertile.)  For canon times, he knows he likely won't marry someone because of love, but because they're another respectable pureblood who can give the Black family an heir. He doesn't even know what his own sexuality is.Who made your photos? Who made your layout? Will you make me something? My photos are made by myself, unless the caption states otherwise, and I always link back to the person who made it if I know (otherwise it's just captioned as "notmyedit.") My layout is made by Damnedest Creations, a premade site owned by a dear friend of mine that I kind of help co-run. The layout is made by Lestat, slightly edited by me. I don't make layouts, and as far as I know, he doesn't custom make them. Both of us will make custom edits, from time to time, you just have to watch out for a status about it. If you need help, I'm willing to try. If we're friends, I'll probably make you an edit without you even asking if I get inspired. It's a hobby though, so unless you want to pay me, be prepared for the possibility of me saying no/not right now. Can I send you a random starter? No. I need to be on the same page as my partner. If you want to send me an IC greeting for banter, that's fine. But don't go sending me a semi-para+ starter, expecting it to kick off our roleplay. I'll delete it, and message you to discuss a storyline. It doesn't need to be a long discussion, but some kinks always need to be worked out. When should I expect a starter/reply from you? Your guess is honestly as good as mine. I am the worlds most annoying roleplay partner, and I apologize in advance for it. If I'm awake/inspired/and my ADD isn't being a d*ck, you may have a starter/reply within the hour. It may be a month. I try to keep everyone updated through my stream. If you have concerns that I didn't like your reply or something, you're free to ask, but usually, if I have an actual issue with a starter or reply, I'll think on it for a few days and then message my partner. Most of the time, it's just something IRL that has kept me from doing it. I'm always open to banter and chatter outside of roleplays while you wait, and I'm also always patient with my partner. Is there anything else I need to know about you as a writer?I'm a laid back person. Please, just keep in mind that I have health issues IRL, and some of them may show in my writing (especially my dyslexia and ADD.) I have absolutely no issues befriending my partners on a personal level, as some of my best friends have come from rp, but I also have no issues with never having an ooc discussion outside of roleplay discussing. I'm an easy person to get along with. And also, never, ever be afraid to write your character as you want with me. Don't hold your muse back. I've been roleplaying for over ten years, and know not to take anything said IC personally; please do the same. Regulus and I are very different. 

AoD_Muzio Sforza_AoD-{Duke}

12/04/2019 05:58 PM 

A doubt that must be paid---Story---
Current mood:  amused

Muzio Sforza founder of the Sforza family Dynasty as well as duke of Milan after the war that took place in Milan, Italy forcing Muzio to save the people of Milan. The Sforza family is that of a noble house when he became duke of Milan while the family has a Cardinal in the family while having marriage alliance with house of Medici with Caterina Sforza. Muzio Sforza heard tales from a group of trash talked crap about his family calling them criminals and he will take action by collecting their skulls while putting them into their graves where they belong. Lorenzo di Piero de Medici went to visit Muzio telling him the same fakes fraud his family saying they were family member of his and he denies them all as Muzio grows more angry with the fraud group who has caught both sides of the family's attention. After the meeting with Lorenzo Muzio wants this group more dead more than ever now they make him sick to his stomach.


12/04/2019 04:45 PM 

x. Bio .x

 When you are a child, growing up love stories and fairytales are your constant. Pretty girls with fair skin and long beautiful hair falling in love with handsome men that prove there love for them in the most dramatic and beautiful ways. Stealing them away from all of their problems at home and living a life full of wonderful experiences. Its at the young ripe age where a girls mind begins to warp around the unachievable. Thin waists and ample chests with large eyes and flawless locks that travel down there spines without a single tangle. I think thats where the root of the majority of insecurities are written, right from the start. I had a fairly ordinary childhood. I was not poor, nor was my family rich. I was put in dresses and small bows in my hair that wasn’t long enough to hold them properly. A different Disney princess a year on Halloween. My mother worked at the blood bank and dad at an insurance firm. On my seventh birthday, they even managed to swing to take me to Disneyland for the first time. I was in love with the constant theatrics and magic of it all. On my twelfth birthday, they took me to Broadway to see Beauty and the Beast live. Backstages passes at that, to meet the cast and take pictures where my cheeks were just about as red as my hair and a shirt that was a size to small for a weight issue that was just beginning to poke its ugly face into the equation of a pre-teens life. I refused to let them hang it on the wall, modified at my own self image. It was the dawn of the dark days. That same year halloween, I was invited to go to my friends house for a small party. It felt to silly to be dressing up anymore and begging for candy to strangers. No, I was an adult. Her parents were out of town and her older brother who was a junior in high school was having a party. That night was the night of many firsts. My first sip of alcohol which I was convinced was poison. The dry burning int he back of my throat caused half of the shot to get laughed back up as I struggled for even the smallest amount of air at the kitchen table as all of the older kids around laughed. Somehow, some managed to reach my stomach and that sweet warmth began to take over. The second, or third after that didn’t burn as badly. It was also the night I had my first kiss. I’m not sure what I was expecting. Thats a lie, I did. Fireworks. I expected fireworks, and for my feet to feel as if they were lifting from the ground where I stood. To be completely consumed by the connection and in my mind all those stories I’ve grown up idolizing begin to make some kind of sense. Except .. it didn’t. I didn’t even know the guy. He was older, her brothers age and he smelled sour. A mixture of cigarettes and beer; he tasted of it too. All I felt was .. warmth. Warmth of where his breath pushed from out of his nose onto my cheek as his lips moved away from my pout and began to make its climb towards my neck. I felt .. panic. Wanted to run but couldn’t find my voice Wanted to move but my limbs felt thick and the air was too heavy. It was also the night that I lost my virginity. On my thirteen birthday when my mom and dad told me they wanted to go back to Broadway for my birthday and watch another show, I declined The Lion King and opted for Les Mes. A tale where a women love story didn’t play through either, and left her dying on the street. They tried to get me to take a picture in front of the movie poster when the show ended, but I refused. Reality was starting to plague over me that my childhood had ended. From age 13 to 15 I didn’t really socialize much. Spent the majority of my time at school with my same group of friends I had since elementary. High School was never made out to be glorious, but there wasn’t even the raging parties you saw on screen either Not that I would have been invited to any of them anyways, but still. After school was typically spent in front of a television snacking. Weight really began to become an issue around 16. I knew I was a bigger girl, but wasn’t huge. Mom used to call it “healthy” or “big boned.” There were never any pictures hanging up of me around that time, and definitely no boys wondering in and out of my room at night. It was a few weeks after my 16th birthday when I finally had my face to face with Kyle.Kyle wasn’t all that popular, or all that attractive. However, he did seem to be friends with everybody. The kind of guy that would go out of his way to defend the kids getting picked on, even if it meant standing up to his friends to tell them to stop being jack asses. It was probably a good solid two years of me admiring him from afar. A typical lingering crush. Write his name in a notebook, create fake scenarios in my head about him and steal glances at him when he wasn’t looking. One day he invited a few of us over to his house when his parents were gone and we got into their liquor cabinet. Not much of a drinker though the years, but I did learn to handle the pain a bit better than I did first starting out. A simple game of truth or dare between the 7 of us. When Kyle was asked to rate out of the four girls there the order he would sleep with them; I came dead last. With enough liquid courage inside of me and it landed on his turn for me to ask him a question I had to know why. Why was I last. His response? He liked smaller girls. To say that crushed me was an understatement. I was so crushed that reality wasn’t what I was brought up to believe, I refused to give my body any attention. Ashamed of myself, ashamed of my skin from what had occurred all those years ago at that party with the man that smelled sour. For the first time in years, I looked at myself. I went home, stripped all of my clothes off and stood in front of that mirror long enough for my legs to go numb and the sun to set outside and I was standing in the dark looking at a black reflection. Thats when I decided to stop eating. I know its bad, I knew it was bad then. However, it was the easiest quickest option. Telling my mom that I was going to eat at school, telling my friends I had a big breakfast and my mom I ate when I got home. It was easy to hide. Yeah, it hurt at first. My body was eating itself but I became obsessed with the way my body was changing. Even more so, obsessed that people were taking notice of the change. By the end of the fifth month, I went from 163lbs to 128. Standing at only 5’3, it made a world of difference. I used the generic excuse of “eating better and working out” which wasn’t all a complete lie to be honest. I wouldn’t eat until lunch, and then I would have an apple or whatever fruit from the cafeteria. Get home from school and walk until my parents got home and only put about half on my plate that I typically would. The half soon turned into a third, then a fourth. Going into my senior year of high school I had made it down to 117lbs. I was thin. Men and women began to look at me. I felt confident, I felt beautiful. The cruel jokes from the preppy girls about my weight were completely cut back, now only making ginger jokes about how I have no soul. Hell, even Kyle tried to ask me to senior prom. I said no, of course. Landed myself a date that was new to school and never knew the old me. Life was beautiful again. But just like all of those fairy tales, it has to get worse. Senior prom was anticlimactic. Date was nice enough, played on the tennis team and had a full ride to some Ivy League school somewhere. It was the after party that will be memorable. See, he was loaded. Well, his family was to be frank. Finally one of those parties I saw on television. His parents allowed it, were all about him making lasting memories and even supplied the beer. His mom was out of state with his aunt on some cruise so his dad, Mr. Carter was home but stayed in his den upstairs most of the night. With a decent buzz and the party in full motion, the bottom bathrooms were occupied by either horny or drunk teenagers so I ventured upstairs which granted, I knew was off limits but I really had to go. Thats when I ran into him. See, Kyle got his good looks from his father yes. However he didn’t get his admirable personality. Started off coy, whats your name any how is the party going downstairs. I commented on how nice of him it was for him to allow the party to go on. At that point we should have parted ways, it would have been the right thing to do after all but he asked me if I ever tried aged whiskey. Of course I said no, and jumped at the opportunity to try some. Half because the silence was nice compared to downstairs heavy music. The other half because, well, I liked the way that he looked at me. When he looked at me, he looked me in the eyes and not down my body. When he smiled, it reached his eyes where the gentle crows feet complimented his facial structure. The conversation wasn’t what I was used to. Instead of talking about college or who is hooking up with you, we talked about life. He told me what different parts of the world were like, and asked me about my greatest fears. We sipped the amber liquid that didn’t burn my throat as harshly as the alcohol I was used to downing just for the affects. And when he kissed me, I felt it. Felt it in my stomach where I understood the “butterflys” sensation I’ve heard so much about. He tasted like the whiskey we shared, and touched me with a softness that I’ve never experienced. When I woke up the next morning bare skinned, he was long gone. And when I got home and checked my bag, there was an envelope with my name with cursive print that had five crisp hundred dollar bills and his phone number. The rest of high school was spent much like that. Meetings held in secret where we drank expensive alcohol and discussed life followed by a night of intimacy. I never asked for the money, and he never brought it up. Somehow he always managed to slip it into either my jacket or purse without my looking. Nobody knew either, it was our little secret. Right after graduation however him and his wife decided to move abroad as their son went off to college and I never saw him after that. As if it never happened. Its a sore spot, because he was the first man to show me any kind of real admiration. That and, well the money was deepening my savings account. College wasn’t really on my radar, even after I graduated. I did decide to take some classes at the community college that lead to nothing. Basic courses filled with a wide range of people of all ages and backgrounds. I finished a years worth with no real idea what kind of major I wanted to go for. I was still living at home and could tell my parents were slowly pushing for me to go out and start my life already. All of this happening while I still tried to take control of my diet. I began to binge. Eat like a total slow on day, and the next three have the bare minimum. Thats right around the time I met Olivia. She was beautiful, we had mutual friends and after commenting on each others social media pages long enough she invited me to a party. I wasn’t exactly sure what to expect as an “adult party” but was excited none the less. The conversations mostly revolved around work, which I couldn’t really relate to as I have never held down a job before. When she invited me into her bathroom stall and pulled out that small white zip lock bag with a white powdered substance, I wasn’t as shocked as I thought I would be. Turns out, tons of people do blow. The taste as it dripped down my throat was bitter and felt toxic, but as my veins began to vibrate I could see why everybody did it. I was instantly more social. Was able to instantly become involved with almost any conversation and was able to drink more than I could before without feeling ill. Sleep came difficult, but when I realized the appetite suppressant that came along with it; I asked where she bought it from. With me trailing behind her at all these different functions, we got close. I was able to secure an intern job at the resource center for a large named non kill animal shelter. The CEO happened to take liking to me and by the end of my first week I was in his bed. He was a lot older than any of the other man I had been with, was in his early fifties. He didn’t smell like sour milk or sweet whiskey but an abundant of aftershave. His hands weren’t as soft either and he loved to talk more than to listen. When I got my first paycheck, I noticed a second personal check behind it addressed to me. A thousand dollars. And in the memo line? “Sweets.”Thats when I realized something for the first time, how beauty had a price. How men felt obligated to pay for company from somebody beautiful, especially with a larger age gap. Animals were my passion yes, but those checks were nice. However near my twentieth birthday his touch grew aggressive. One night after a long binge of stimulants and I was a little too far gone to feel “sexy” he had to nerve to tell me “You owe me.” The next day I quit. I managed to get something on my resume and had enough saved up to get my own studio apartment near the edge of the city. My friend group was large, but my heath was deteriorating. I took a major dip the night one of my more routy friends Leah invited me to ameture night at the local strip club. With enough drugs and booze in my system, I jumped at the opportunity and to my surprise, won. I ended up coming back the following night after seeing one of the girls count their bills in the bathroom when I needed to get another bump. I was hooked. Hooked on the feeling of feeling beautiful. Hooked on the money men seemed to hand out to have a chance for a conversation. Hooked on feeling as if I was in control. Surprise suprise, I was far from it. I only lasted four months until my body began to give out on me. I passed out in the clubs bathroom, and was sent to the emergency room. When they checked my vitals, my blood pressure and sugar was extremely low. When they checked my weight, that was lower. Not really realizing just how small I was getting, I weighed in at 107 pounds and had little meat on my bones. I was sent into a rehabilitation center that both worked for a eating disorders as well as substance abuse. Lost my apartment, lost my friends and lost my “glow” as one would say. As the weight began to come back on and sobriety showing its ugly face, I fell into a depression. When I checked out four months later, I weighed in at 120. With random UA’s and weight check ins, I was walking on egg shells. Moving into an outpatient house full of girls much like me I felt comfort. In total there were 7 of us in the three bedroom house. I was lucky enough to get bunked with just one other girl, Mia. Her story almost mirrored mine as we spent hours talking about our lives and how f***ed up society was about how women are supposed to be beautiful, but also reprimanded for it. How we are supposed to be modest, but not a prude. Turns out, I was more passionate about women rights than I had realized. F***, the more I sat there and talked to her all of those nights the more my passion grew regarding it. How women should be able to do whatever the f*** they want, and not get scrutiny by men. To be able to wear, say or believe in whatever they want without a mans input. To be able to sleep with whoever they want without judgement, whether if it was payed for or not. In that small twin sized bed is when I realized I wanted to do something about it.  A month after my twenty first birthday I was released and by that point I had already started up a website regarding women empowerment. An outreach center that helps women of sex work have access to information and healthcare. Within a year, I was able to brand myself with the name “W.E.T.” which stands for Women Empowering Themselves.” We run a non for profit but partner with brands which helps me make a living as well allows money to keep coming in so I can continue to spread out. At twenty four years old, I have two duplex buildings to help house women. There is a call center for a crises helpline that helps girls In need that have a constantly full volunteered staff. And best of all, I’m happy.  

Teagan Trafficante

12/04/2019 03:50 PM 


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