#I make objective observations with my family sometimes

[thargelalia]

Comrade Red Hood

jason todd x fem!reader

patriarchy sucks, thankfully your doting nerdy boyfriend is there to show you support

-> 3k words

-> fluff, hurt/comfort, tiniest bit suggestive

-> warnings: talks of v!olence and crime (c'mon, guys, it's Gotham); mansplaining (not by Jason); reader is a little mean, but she's only human; Jason is a serial kisser and we love that for him

“Are you upset?” 

“Yes.” 

“…is it something I did?” 

“Not everything’s about you.”

Jason’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline as he lets out a low whistle at your sharp words. “Damn. I thought I was supposed to be the broody one here.”

“Getting a taste of your own medicine sometimes is good.”

Silence.

“Sure you’re not mad at me?”

“I’m beginning to.” You let out a deep frustrated sigh, massaging your temples in a futile attempt to stop the incessant throbbing headache. “What do you want, Jason?” 

“I was just—is there anything I can do for you?” He asks, shifting weight between his legs. “You seemed a bit off over the phone earlier, so I decided to drop by.”

“I just want to be alone.” You sound less passive aggressive this time as exhaustion seeps into your words. ”My head is killing me right now, so I just had an aspirin. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay. I’ll be in the living room if you need me.” Since it’s dark and your eyes are glued to the ceiling, you’re unable to take in the dejected look on his face. 

Seeing you’ve got no objections — he kind of hoped you’d change your mind and ask for cuddles — Jason leaves the room wordlessly. It’s almost like he vanishes into thin air. A well-known skill amongst all bat-family members.

Even so, he’s surprisingly light on his feet for a big guy. But then again, we’re talking about a walking deadly weapon. A vicious vigilante. The prince of Gotham. Red Hood.

Or at least that’s what he usually is when he’s not sulking in the living room for being a victim of his girlfriend’s sour mood. 

Aside from the sound of a car or two passing by down below, and police sirens echoing distantly on occasion, your place is engulfed in a comfortable silence — this a relatively quiet neighborhood. Moonlight filters through your half-open curtains, a soft welcoming breeze swaying them gently to the side. 

At some point, your eyes flutter open. You don’t even remember falling asleep. There’s a dryness to your throat, prompting you to move around and reach for a slim water bottle on the nightstand. Next to it, the digital clock reads 2:17 AM. 

A five hour nap. Nice. 

Fortunately, the pounding inside your head has subsided.

Tsking in disappointment, seeing the bottle is empty, you detangle your legs from the sheets, begrudgingly getting up and dragging yourself to the kitchen. 

The lights in the living room are still on, making your eyes squint when you approach the entrance. You’re confused to discover Jason still lounging on the couch with a book in his hands, legs spread deliciously wide. One of his feet is propped against the edge of the coffee table.

“Thought you were still out on patrol.” 

He looks up, and blinks, not expecting to see you up. “Just got back, actually. About fifteen minutes ago or so, I think.”

You hum in response and take a moment to really observe him. 

His hair is still indeed damp as it falls over his forehead. He’s also shirtless, only dressed in gray sweatpants. Took him quite a long time to feel comfortable enough to show skin like this around you. Likewise, despite the smile that your reassurances bring to his face whenever you thank him for ‘blessing your eyes with such a delectable sight’, sometimes he still gets antsy if they linger too long on his scars. So, you try to respect his limits while also making sure he knows he’s incredible and beautiful. 

There are also beads of sweat accumulated on his bare chest and neck. Despite having just showered, his body is still overheated from Red Hood’s intense activities, you notice. 

No injuries in sight tonight, thank goodness. But if there were, though, he probably wouldn’t be here. He’d still rather agonize in pain alone in his apartment than letting his medical resident girlfriend tend to him. You’re still trying to ingrain into his stubborn mind that his health will never be a disturbance to you. He will never be a disturbance to you.

Hm, though he kinda was a little bit earlier before. However, that wasn’t his fault. Nor yours, for that matter.

As if on cue, his question breaks you out of your reverie.

“Feeling better?” You nod in affirmation and he gives a sweet smile. “Good. You should eat, baby. I got you something on my way back. It’s in the kitchen.”

You mirror his smile and resume your steps to the kitchen where there’s a white medium-sized paper bag sitting on the counter. 

Dismantling crime and wreaking havoc around Gotham, just to later on pick up food to appease his moody girlfriend back home. 

Isn’t that so cute? 

After drinking your fill of cool water, you grab the food bag, a plate – to avoid crumbs dirtying the floor – and return to the living room to eat in Jason’s company. He’s still engrossed in his book. Or rather, yours. Your small library is now his, but so is his yours. It’s an unspoken agreement.

“I didn’t know Mr. Abdul’s place stays open so late.” You say thoughtfully, munching on a falafel. Jason also got you a fattoush salad, hummus, and some pita bread. Yummy. 

You’re sitting on opposite ends of the couch, legs on a pillow in his lap, while his forearms rests on top of them. He’s hunched forward in concentration on the pages in front of him.

“It doesn’t.” Without looking, Jason steals one falafel from the bag and pops it into his mouth. “I broke into his kitchen.“

You choke on a piece of pita bread. “What the f-”

“Relax. I left the money on the counter.” 

“Are you fucking kidding me??” He talks about it so casually. Almost like he’s done this before. “Wait. So, the cookies from Elena’s last time…”

“Well, that one’s obvious.” Successfully blocking a pillow chucked at his face, he rushes to defend himself, “BUT I never forget to pay, so technically I’m not stealing! Only billionaires are harmed here, I swear.”

You both know which particular billionaire he has in mind.

“Right. Keep telling yourself that, Robin. Hood.” You scoff, picking up the fattoush salad box, opening its lid and picking through vegetables with a plastic fork. Jason’s mouth opens in surprise. “Pun intended, by the way.” 

“Whatever.” He huffs with an eye roll, trying to conceal his amusement. To make a point, he raises the open book to his face and blocks your view of him, ignoring you completely. 

As you silently chew on radishes and lettuce, you take a minute to inspect what he’s reading. It’s a considerably thick book. Zeroing in the letters of the cover, your eyes widen in shock as you swallow. 

“Jason, is that—you’re reading The Capital?”

“Yeah, why?” He questions back, nonchalantly, lowering the book just past his eyes.  “You think I only read fiction?” 

“I guess… but I only asked because I think it’s an odd choice of reading given your night.” You explain, gathering the empty food containers, placing them inside the paper bag and setting it aside on the coffee table. “Aren’t you supposed to be tired?” 

“Of fighting against oppressive systems? Absolutely.” He quips, a playful smirk on his face. “This guy just gets me, you know?” 

Seeing the unimpressed look on your face, his smile dies down and he places the book down on the armrest. “I got an extra adrenaline rush while chasing Penguin’s goons this time. There were dozens of them ‘cause he was closing an important arms deal at a warehouse tonight.. Remember that time when we were watching a documentary about wolves, and it was showing how packs tend to slaughter entire flocks of sheep when they’re unable to escape from a confined space?”

“Is that your way of telling me you were in a… kill frenzy?” You swallow hard, trying not to sound too alarmed, but the distant look in his eyes accompanied by his eerie tone and word choice is unsettling. Even though you're well aware he doesn’t pose a danger to you.

Jason seldom shares the details about his gruesome Red Hood business with you. One, because he knows you already see too much violent shit while working at the hospital. 

Two, he knows you worry about his safety. 

Three, there’s also the fact that he’d like to keep a sense of normalcy at home. 

Four, and most importantly, he believes it’s best if you don’t access his dark side, but sometimes – like right now – he’s unable to conceal it. At the end of the day, he’s only someone fighting their shadows like any other. 

Although, his are evidently a bit more obscure and jarring. 

There’s a pregnant pause before he finally breaks out of his trance with a shake of his head. Taking in your tense posture and concerned face, he softens his demeanor, reaching for one of your hands. One, two, three kisses delivered to the tip of your fingers and he’s pulling you to sit straddling his legs. Calloused palms start rubbing the top of your thighs in reassurance back and forth. 

“Don’t worry, baby. I didn’t shoot to kill..uh, mostly.” There’s no way of telling if he’s being sincere, and, frankly, you’d rather not think about this. As usual, he’s attuned to your senses, and tries to lighten the conversation up. ���Anyways, I was still feeling charged when I got back. That’s why I picked one of your brainy books to help me wind down. Since your Sociology shelf was right in my line of sight, I decided to give it a try… Oh, I just remembered I forgot to bring you my French copy of Madame Bovary again.” 

“Hm, it’s fine. I’ll borrow it next time I’m at your place. But, back to my books. Why do I feel like this isn’t a first time thing? I did find some of my Sociology books misplaced a couple of weeks ago,” you complain. “Glad you’re having fun tackling dialectical materialism as a post-vigilante workout, but please make sure you put my books in order once you’re done.” 

“So bossy.” He playfully tuts, adding a nip to your shoulder. Then you feel his lips trace a slow path up to your neck, leaving a slow deliberate kiss there. “And so pretty, too.”

He smiles mischievously, lips still attached to your skin, as you shudder. 

Devious bastard.

Crossing your arms, you try not to blush and keep your voice steady. “I mean it, Jason.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll mind your precious organization.” He follows his promise with a chaste kiss, this time to your lips. “But seriously, you do look pretty.” 

“What, out of a sudden?” You raise your eyebrows in amusement. 

Jason prides himself in being a skillful liar. It often comes in handy. 

But he most definitely is not the type to give empty compliments. 

Especially not to the most precious person of his life. 

And you’re aware of that. His eyes don’t lie.

There’s that deep candid warmth swirling within those mesmerizing irises that just captures you whole. They remind you of the ocean, colors of a fine line between blue and green, like teal. Sometimes calm and serene, sometimes agitated and raging. 

One thing is sure. You’re the only person who gets to soak into the tranquil waters hidden amidst the windows of his soul. 

Because you’re the only one capable of bringing them out. 

“Nah, I always think that when I see your face.” Comes his reply.

At that, more kisses ensue. Obviously.

First one is yours, molding your lips to his in an instant as you try to return his incessant devotion with eagerness. He wastes no time in reciprocating, mouth slightly parting to welcome your tongue inside. It makes your head fuzzy all over. Every single fucking time. This type of intimacy took almost as long to construct as the display of his body. You’re never taking his trust for granted. Never. Soon enough, Jason discovered himself to be a great fan of kissing. You. He’s done it before with other people, sure, but it didn’t make him feel like this. Yearn like this. As if he depended on it to survive. And he might as well do. Your fingers find their way to his scalp, tangling in silky locks and pulling while trapping his lower lip between your teeth, eliciting a soft groan from him. As a result, he grips your hips harder, drawing you impossibly closer. The heat from his bare muscular chest is scorching, almost too much to bear as it seeps through your shirt – his shirt. 

You two only break apart because he decides to now trail his lips downward, leaving you panting, eyes sealed shut in pleasure, as he works his mouth across every other available patch of your skin. From jaw to neck, and shoulder. And back up.

This time his ministrations are sweeter and more tender, making you melt completely into his embrace. 

Finally sated, after delivering a last kiss behind your ear, he whispers softly and a little breathless, “Wanna share now why you almost bit my head off a few hours ago, hm?” 

Watching your face fall when he pulls back, his heart equally drops, causing him to backtrack, “S’okay, baby. You don’t have to tell me. I’m sorry.”

You exhale shakily, glancing down to fiddle with the hems of your – his – shirt. A hand cups your cheek, and tilts your head upwards carefully, thumb brushing the soft skin back and forth. Molten blue-green irises coaxing you to relax like the gentle sway of the sea. Telling he’s trusty and willing to listen.

“No, it’s just… ugh…” He waits patiently as you gather your thoughts. “I had to deal with one of my stupid professors mansplaining to me during my presentation today. A subject that I’ve been studying for years now. I knew what I was talking about and he acted as if I didn’t, saying that I didn’t use the concepts correctly like I was a child. Some of my colleagues told me I shouldn’t take his words personally, but it fucking sucked. Still does. I hate it when people, especially men, undermine my intelligence. I just felt so frustrated, I went to the bathroom and cried when the presentation ended. And to top it off, I got a miserable headache on the way home. So yeah, that’s why I was in such a shitty mood tonight. I’m sorry I took it out on you…” 

While describing what happened and venting about your feelings, you barely registered the way his arms tensed around you or how a muscle in his jaw ticked. There’s really no mistaking the look on his face now. The dark stormy blue that has replaced the soothing sea green. “Jason, no. Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

“He upset you.” Your boyfriend states in a clipped tone. “He made you cry.” 

“No matter how tempting, you can’t just fuck up every single guy that gets on my nerves.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Jace.” You beg, exasperated. “Please. That’s not what I need right now, okay? He was being an asshole, yes, but the academy, and the whole world, is crowded with them unfortunately. Most of the time, I can handle it just fine. But, today was different. I’ve been preparing for my presentation for days, so he caught me by surprise with his arrogance and my anxiety kinda escalated, I guess. What I mean is I didn’t tell you this because I wanted you to avenge me. I just want to be understood. Can’t you do that for me?” The sight of tears filling your wide eyes dilute his outrage instantly. You’re engulfed in a tight comforting hug.

“Of course, baby. I’ll never feel the same as you ‘cause I’m not a woman, but you must know I’m here for you and I’m sorry you had to deal with this.” He offers, sympathetically, before something darker twists his features again. “I won’t lie to you, though. It’d be easy for me to rip that fucking bastard’s tongue—”

“Jason.”

“—and feed it to his mouth until he chokes—”

“Jason.” 

He puts a finger to your mouth to silence you, just to pull back immediately before it gets bitten off.

“—but I won’t do that.” Not today at least, he keeps this last part to himself. “My point is a brilliant woman like you will always be a threat to insecure fuckers like him. Bet he’s just jealous he’ll never shine as bright as you do.”

You throw your arms around his neck, burying your face in it with a sniffle. “I love you.”

“I love you too. A lot.” Nuzzling into your hair, he inhales the soft scent of jasmine shampoo. “Feeling okay?”

“Yes. Thank you.” You really are. But, then, you sigh wistfully. “I’m thinking if I were an Amazon, it’d probably be easier to deal with this type of situation.”

“How so?” He tilts his head, confused.

“You know… I’d be strong, powerful... intimidating. Stuff like that.” 

“You already wield your intellect like the sharpest blade I’ve ever seen. Your words are eloquent and sharp when you stick up for what you believe. Not to mention the way you carry yourself with confidence even when you’re in a room filled with strangers.” He tucks a lock of hair behind your ear, speaking earnestly. “Trust me, sweetheart. You don’t need to be an Amazon when you’re already a goddess.” 

“That’s… wow… I wasn’t expecting that.” The butterflies are throwing a fucking rave in your stomach. You just can’t stop grinning, so you playfully hit his shoulder. “Never knew you could be so sappy.” 

He catches your wrist delicately, not missing the opportunity to turn it and plant his lips on your knuckles.

“That’s all on you. You turned me into this.” He claims, placing your open palm over his heart, and holding it there. It’s beating quite rapidly. Like yours is. “Take responsibility, woman.” 

“Fine,” you concede with a playful eye roll. Guilty as charged, your honor. “But, seriously, thank you. Your words mean a lot.”

“You mean a lot to me. Don’t ever forget that.” One, two, three pecks to his lips. You discover you really love kissing him as well. 

Suddenly, he’s covering his mouth with a yawn. Outside, Gotham’s black heaven is starting to get tinged with pink and yellow, announcing the sun’s impending arrival. Soon the streets around your building will have people going out about their day. Unbeknownst to them, one of the guys responsible for their safety sleeps tucked in your bed right around the corner. 

“We should probably sleep.” Jason begins, effortlessly getting up in a swift motion while still holding onto you. Your legs wrap around his waist as he walks you two to the bedroom. “I already lost way more brain cells than intended. Gotta save some for Mary Wollstonecraft tomorrow.”

“You’re such a dork.”

“And you need to get woke,” he taunts.

“These are my books!” You counter, indignantly. 

“Ours. Don’t be so individualistic, baby. That’s why capitalism—” Not letting him finish, you jump off his arms and go into the bathroom as he trails behind like a lost puppy.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, comrade Red Hood. Now shut your revolutionary mouth, and let’s get ready for bed.”

thanks for reading, and please reblog if you enjoyed it <33

feel free to share your thoughts, i'd love to hear them!

this is where i got the dividers

[fayes-fics]

An Artful Arrangement

Pairings: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader, Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader (threesome)

Summary: A private art lesson with Benedict becomes something else when a Viscount is your subject...

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, MMF threesome, no incest. Very mild restraint with hands, sensation play, smidge of breast play, vaginal object insertion, vaginal fingering, oral sex (M to F), masturbation, vaginal sex, voyeurism/exhibitionism.

Word Count: 7.7k

Authors Note: Request fill for Anon, who wanted Anthony as a life model for one of Benedict's private art lessons. This request is from last year and I started writing it before the whole Benedict gives up art thing of s3. I hope artist Benedict returns in s4. Anyway, thank you to @colettebronte for beta-reading this monster. Enjoy! <3

“I’m not sure about this, brother,” Anthony frowns, surveying the jumbled art studio at Benedict’s London townhouse. 

Sunlight is streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows at the rear of the property, but Anthony is grateful for the translucent voiles that drape over them; at least there will be some privacy from the surrounding buildings for this embarrassment.

“Too bad,” Benedict shoots back, bemused, fiddling through a pile of paintbrushes.  “A bet is a bet, and you lost.”

“You do not need to revel in my misfortune quite this much, though,” Anthony pouts.

“What can I say? The mallet of death does not always ensure victory at Pall Mall,” Benedict chuckles, readjusting one of the two easels in the room. “And I can assure you, this student will be worth your efforts,” he adds enigmatically as his trusty valet appears in the doorway.

“Ms y/l/n is here, Mr Bridgerton,” Mr Smith announces. “Should I see her in?”

“Certainly,” Benedict nods brightly, observing in the periphery of his gaze how Anthony’s interest is piqued at that announcement.

“A Ms?” Anthony echoes quietly as Smith slips away. “I did not think you offered private art tuition to the unmarried lady,” his voice filled with concern, patently preoccupied with the Bridgerton family reputation should Benedict be inviting innocent young women to his bachelor lodgings unchaperoned.

“Do not concern yourself,” Benedict sighs, knowing exactly where the Viscount's thoughts have gone. “I indeed do not do that. I would not wish for that reputation. Widows who have reverted to their unmarried name, however….” Benedict trails off.

“Oh… right….” Anthony nods in understanding. 

That, indeed, is an entirely different prospect.

—

You enter the room and suspect you may have interrupted a private moment between the two men before you. Both turning towards you, Benedict looks happy to see you once more; the other man - you would recognise his older brother, the Viscount, anywhere - seems taken aback, but you don't miss the tiny uptick in the corner of his mouth, hopefully also pleased to meet you.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” you nod courteously and move towards Benedict, allowing him to take your hand and kiss the back of your glove in greeting.

“Ms y/l/n,” he rumbles, “it is so wonderful to see you again.”

“Likewise, Mr Bridgerton,” you answer, enjoying the warmth of his lips through the silk, that trademark flare of exhilaration in your ribcage when your flirtation with him rears. 

This is your fifth private lesson with Mr Bridgerton, and while art has been a wonderful new pastime, you do wonder how much of your enthusiasm correlates to your tutor’s attractiveness. He has been nothing but a gentleman in his actions, almost to your chagrin, although sometimes his glances have felt heated and laden with something that makes your insides glow.

You turn towards Anthony. “Viscount Bridgerton, it is a pleasure to meet you finally. I have seen you from afar at many an event.”

You take a few paces and offer your other hand for him to kiss, but it takes him a moment before he returns to himself and amends his frozen look of surprise.

“Miss y/l/n, the pleasure is all mine,” he replies, and there is something just as velvet in his tone as his brother's, his lips also warm and plush as he kisses your other hand.

Oh, my goodness. They are both entirely too charming and handsome.

“I apologise. When my brother informed me I would be modelling for a widow, I did not assume such a person as yourself,” he explains, his cheeks sporting a delightful dot of colour.

“I was widowed at age 24, my lord,” you explain, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “My late husband, 10th Earl of Pembroke, was a great deal older than me.” 

“Should we not address you as Dowager Countess?” Anthony checks, concerned at any potential faux pas.

“Please do not,” you instantly respond. “It is why I reverted to my unmarried name. I have no wish to be addressed as such. The title lives on in his eldest son, the current Earl, and his wife. Who are indeed older than me. I was my husband's second wife. A companion for his senior years after his first wife died.”

Anthony nods in understanding. “It must have been an interesting union,” he offers politely.

“I was seventeen, and the man was nearly sixty,” you sigh. “My parents saw an opportunity to climb the social ladder and took it. I did not dislike the man completely, but I cannot say I was particularly distraught at his passing,” you explain plainly. “I am, of course, grateful his estate provides for me now.”

Having explained your situation as thoroughly as you wish, you turn back towards Benedict, who appears thoroughly entertained by your bluntness.

“Is this my easel?” you enthuse, pointing to the one nearest the windows.

“Indeed it is,” he returns with a smile as he strides past you and clicks the door closed.

“Now the question is, would you prefer your model be clothed or unclothed? You have not done a piece yet on the naked human form,” he points out.

You look over to see Anthony’s face morph into a thousand reactions.

“That was not part of the deal, brother,” he warns lowly through gritted teeth.

“Maybe not, but I think the lady should get to decide, do you not, brother?” Benedict challenges in a tone laced with amusement, his eyes sparkling.

You can see the war on Anthony’s face and decide to offer an olive branch. “I would not wish to make the Viscount uncomfortable in any way…”

“It would not,” Anthony cuts in very quickly. “I was just pointing out it was not my expectation to do so,” his gaze softening as it slips from his brother to you. “However, if you wish it, Ms, I shall remove my clothing.” something in the way he says it causes a frisson down your spine.

You have only seen one naked man in your life. And that is your dead husband—a portly man of advanced years. Something about the look of the Viscount’s tailored clothing suggests his naked form would be very different. More akin to the rugged gardener you have occasionally seen topless at your country home and, yes, touched yourself while thinking of. You are not sure you could keep your wits about you to paint such a fine specimen of a man.

“Let us just remove our jackets for now, brother,” Benedict suggests. ”The lady may then decide if we shall proceed further,” his tone conciliatory as he removes his.

You smile at his gentlemanly offer. 

“Now,” he continues, rolling up his white shirt sleeves distractingly. “You may choose to pose your model as you see fit.” 

Anthony is doing the same with his shirt, and you find yourself staring at him as well, at the play of muscles in his forearms as he rolls the material. Behind him is an emerald green velvet chaise, and you ask him to sit upon it. He does so and then looks at you expectantly for further instruction.

“Perhaps place one forearm on your thigh,” you suggest, but the pose he adopts isn't quite what you had in mind.

“You can place him in the position you wish,” Benedict chuckles, seeing the knit in your brow, gesturing for you to go to Anthony.

Your heart skips a little as you approach the Viscount, his eyes almost trepidacious as you place your hands tentatively on his shoulders. They are so broad and warm through the thin white cotton of his shirt. You position his arms, noting the latent power in his biceps, fingertips lingering on the material, eager to trail your hands down onto the dark hair dusting his forearms. 

“Would you mind raising your chin, my lord?” you ask quietly, and when he tilts his head up, you almost gasp at the intensity of his gaze boring into yours.

“Like this?” he murmurs.

“Yes, please,” you whisper back, “the light catches your face perfectly.”

“Much as it does yours,” he returns softly and something warm spreads under your ribs as you drink in his handsome facial features, almost glowing in the sunlight—a want to run your fingertips over his cheeks, trace the lines of his strong jaw dusted with a trace of afternoon stubble.

“Are you happy with your placement?” Benedict’s voice rings out, cutting into your reverie.

“Yes, Mr Bridgerton,” you reply but do not move, seemingly rooted to the spot.

“Then please return to your easel,” he tutors, with a hint of sharpness you have not heard before. 

Part of you is tempted to spin around and ask if he is jealous, but instead, you shoot Anthony a tiny smile that he returns before withdrawing. 

You round behind your easel and pick up your charcoal, sketching an outline, as Benedict does the same. A few minutes pass pleasantly as you draw, glancing at Anthony around the edge of the easel to ensure accuracy. You could swear every time you do so; his lip twitches in amusement, almost as if he is trying to distract you.

“Benedict,” you call softly when you think your rough outline is done, “please could you check my sketch?”

It's a flimsy excuse you have used more than once now—a wish to have your teacher move closer. He doesn't disappoint. He takes a few strides and then stops close to your back, assessing your canvas.

“I would say that is an excellent start,” he assesses, his exhaled air wafting through tendrils of hair near your ear. “Except maybe here…” His arm curls close around your side, ghosting your dress, and taps the canvas where you have sketched Anthony’s left arm. “I think you flatter my brother with a shoulder that broad.”

“Perhaps…” you concede, and then your tongue runs away with itself. “It may indeed be easier to ascertain the correct proportions for the Viscount were he in less clothing.”

They both chuckle at your bold assertion, so obviously a flimsy excuse. But there is a vault behind your ribs as Anthony rises to that challenge—a glint in his eye as he stands up and plucks open his waistcoat, shucking it quickly from his shoulders, staring you down. 

You swear you can feel the heat radiating from Benedict behind you as Anthony unwinds his white cravat and then, with a smirk, tosses it towards you. It lands draped over your easel; you reach out unthinking, grabbing an end, caressing the fine silk absent-mindedly as you stare covetously now.

Anthony is indeed built like your gardener, possibly even more sculpted. A dark thatch over his chest tapers to a line of hair over his abdominals and trails temptingly into his trousers. You want to see where it leads to. You suspect something much better than you have ever encountered before. With a hint of swagger, he retakes his seat in the pose you had put him in, the stance making his bicep bulge out.

“I do not think I was very incorrect in my proportions, Mr Bridgerton,” you opine tacitly, turning your head a fraction so your temple is brushing Benedict’s jaw, knowing you are goading him.

“Then draw what you believe you see,” he returns, his voice a low whisper, his lips so close to the shell of your ear that your heart pounds in your chest.

Your eyes hold Anthony’s as you daringly glide your fingertips over the back of Benedict’s hand, lingering on the raised tendons before you push the charcoal between his knuckles.

“Perhaps you can guide my hand?”

“With pleasure,” he hums.

The charcoal glides over the canvas in guided unison for a few laden minutes as you draw under Benedict’s tutelage. Anthony’s chest rises and falls steadily as you glance at him every few seconds—a tension in the air that is portentous, crackling. Your traitorous mind wanders—a jumble of images of you laying with both of these men, bringing you untold pleasures with their mouths and hands.

“Are you even paying attention to the artwork?” Benedict's rich voice lilts in your ear as you realise your hand is almost limp under his.

“I… I must confess, my thoughts may be elsewhere, Mr Bridgerton.”

“Tell us. It could be something we would be most pleased to hear,” he posits duskily, his breath hot on your cheek, letting slip that he likely suspects.

“I am thinking… of other artful arrangements of human bodies,” you offer somewhat opaquely.

“Whose bodies?” Benedict presses, this time his lips grazing your earlobe, as you spy a vein throbbing in Anthony’s temple, looking like he wants to stalk over and claim you.

“The three of us,” you confess breathily.

There is a noise from both men that is a beeline straight into your core, and there is a mouth on your skin. You gasp, eyes closing as you sway backwards into Benedict, his lips travelling the column of your neck as your back collides with his solid chest. The gentle suction and warm wetness set your skin afire, tingles running down your arm. Your lashes flutter open, and your blood runs hot to behold Anthony’s face like thunder until you bite your lip and, feeling emboldened, you mouth to him…

‘Your turn’

Instantly, his mien morphs into one of desire, jumping to his feet as you slide a hand into Benedict's thick hair and grab a handful, making him groan into your skin. 

“You are entirely too clothed compared to your brother, Mr Bridgerton,” you coquette, untangling yourself from his arms and spinning to look back at him with a raised brow, backing away without looking, knowing you will soon collide with Anthony.

Sure enough, you inhale sharply as toned arms haul you into a firm embrace, the hair on his chest tickling the skin above the scooped back of your dress.

“The lady is not wrong, brother,” Anthony provokes, his tone smug now that you are in his arms instead.

Teeth nip lightly on your earlobe while you watch Benedict fight with his waistcoat, almost wrenching it from his torso. Anthony is more taciturn than Benedict, communicating with his fingertips instead, raking over your dress, silently telegraphing his desire through the gauzy layers. Benedict’s stare is heavy upon you as he unfurls his cravat, you melting into Anthony’s lips skimming down your throat. Benedict makes quick work of removing his shirt, throwing it aside, his smooth chest heaving slightly as he advances upon you. Then his lips descend and claim yours in a breathtaking kiss. 

If this is the Bridgerton boys competing for your affection, then you would do anything to keep provoking them. Sandwiched between their bare torsos, Benedict's tongue opening your lips, lathing yours, as Anthony’s mouth skates your shoulder. The taste and feel of them both has you suddenly impatient. To do things you never thought you would even moments ago. A forbidden fruit too tempting to resist. It makes you desirous, unbounded, a keening want to be reckless.

“Take off my dress, gentlemen,” you implore urgently as you and Benedict break apart, twisting to capture Anthony’s mouth now. 

His kiss is just as demanding, equally fervent, your heart racing as four hands trace the contours of your figure. You are not sure of who undoes the buttons down your back or who pushes the loosened fabric from your shoulders. Both unlace your stays, tugging almost impatiently until the garment relents and are certain both of them pull your gathered chemise loose, it falling from your shoulders to form a circle around your light summer shoes. Both make a noise as they realise you are now naked. It was supposed to be a little illicit thrill for yourself, foregoing stockings and underwear in Mr Bridgerton’s presence—little did you know how provocative that choice would be. 

As you toe off your shoes, the atmosphere seems as heated, the sun’s rays upon your back through the translucent window covering. There is a moment where you exchange laden looks with them, their eyes slipping down your naked body before Anthony leans in and retakes your lips.

“Touch me…” you implore, twisting briefly to address his brother before returning inexorably to Anthony’s hypnotic kiss.

Benedict's fingertips ladder up your ribs from the dip of your waist, his lips dragging hot over your bare shoulder blades. And then you gasp into Anthony’s searching mouth as those large hands seize both of your breasts, covering them entirely, your nipples snagging between his elegant knuckles.

“Here perhaps…” Benedict rumbles as you tear away from Anthony to meet his captivating gaze.

“Yessss,” you hiss hungrily, your breath catching as he plucks gently, tweaks that send a zinging bolt between your legs. You cling to the back of his sturdy neck and crash your lips into his. 

“Have you ever laid with two men before?” Anthony’s voice is like velvet in your ear as his warm hands grasp the flare of your hips, his teeth nipping at your neck.

“I have only laid with one man,” you admit as you pull back from Benedict's kiss. “And he looked nothing like either of you.” Your hands rake greedily down both of their honed outlines, a yen to see and touch more.

They puff with pride at your words as Benedict's fingers loop behind your left knee. He roughly pulls your legs up around his hip, surging into you so the rigid mass of his cock, straining in his trousers, presses your mound, making you gasp. Anthony pushes into you, too, his equally sizeable cock passing over the cleft of your bottom, so hot through the fine wool. 

“Did he worship you like you truly deserve?” Benedict queries, his cadence achingly seductive.

“I am not sure what that might entail…” your intentional evasive provocation makes him smile crookedly and lean in closer, his eyes glinting enticingly. 

“Did he feast on the bounty between your legs with his tongue until you screamed for mercy?” his words dripping from his lips like dangerous weapons, heat pooling rapidly right at that very spot.

“H-he did not…”you stutter over a slightly laboured breath.

“Oh, my poor lady,” Anthony tuts sympathetically. “You deserve to know true pleasure,” he adds, surging his hips again but also taking your hand and kissing your knuckles tenderly. 

“Lay down here,” Benedict smiles as he leads you back to the plush chaise. 

Both offer their hand to assist you in reclining, the velvet a plush tickle under your spine as you settle down, looking up at them towering over you, your hands itching to tug open their trousers and find what lies beneath, the fabric straining temptingly.

“What do you have in mind, brother?” Anthony asks, his eyes following Benedict as he turns away and appears to grab something from the bench at the side of the room, the sunlight dancing across the freckles across his back. When he spins back around, he is holding three clean paintbrushes.

“I think a sensual experience…” he replies, looking down to gauge your reaction.

“I thought our art lesson abandoned, Mr Bridgerton,” your gaze fixated upon the brushes of various sizes and bristle lengths.

“With my brother as the subject, I concede maybe so,” he remarks casually. “But I believe you to be a much more interesting prospect anyway….” his voice smoky as he looms over you, his eyes raking over you in a way that you can feel fizzling on your skin.

“Agreed”, Anthony chimes in, taking a proffered brush from his brother as they kneel on either side of the chaise, a silent exchange between them.

You want to ask what they will do, but the words die in your throat as Benedict's tongue darts out and wettens the end of a fine-tipped brush. Then, the damp bristles are upon your clavicle, tracing the arc of bone, leaving a thin, wet streak cooling rapidly, goosebumps erupting over your sternum, nipples pebbling. Without needing prompting, Anthony drags a dry, fanned brush over your ribs, tracing each contour. The sensation is different, ticklish, to the point your abdomen ripples, and you instinctively curl up a fraction, biting your lip to tamp down a giggle. Anthony smirks casually as a large hand wraps around your shoulder and pushes you back flat.

“No, no.” Your clit pulses at the warning tone Benedict employs, his hold secure but not painful, staring you down as Anthony repeats the same move upon the other side of your ribs. Your body rolls yet more, rebelling and pushing against his grip. “Stay still. Or he may desist.”

You bite your lip and exhale shakily as Anthony continues teasing brushstrokes over your stomach, each one a flick that makes your skin shimmer. Benedict releases his hold to paint his wet brush across your other collarbone, leaving a trail of his saliva along its ridge and then continuing down over your breastbone. Your breath catches as he trails under the curve of your left breast, just as Anthony’s brush sinks lower. Your instinct is to clamp your legs shut, a sudden wave of timidity, but both men grab your knees and pull your thighs wide apart. Air swirls around your slit as Anthony leans over and captures your lips in an enticing kiss.

“Do not be shy now….” is Benedict’s hot whisper in your ear, his teeth capturing your earlobe as Anthony’s tongue rolls with yours, swallowing your moans as his brush caresses the patch of hair at the apex of your thighs before he glides it between your legs, passing over your clit. 

Just that featherlight touch is enough to make you arc upwards off the chaise until again Benedict holds you down, brush stored expertly between his knuckles as warm fingertips press upon your diaphragm, and he hushes you. You have to bite the inside of your cheek as Anthony flicks a few strokes, his warm eyes blazing right above yours. The motions have you throbbing, desperate for more, and you can only gasp as he slips lower, pushing just a fraction of the brush into your soaked pussy. When you do not protest, he grins and pushes a fraction deeper as you bite your lip, wanting so much more for it to be his cock. You whimper as instead the paintbrush withdraws, and Anthony makes a show of bringing it to his mouth, sucking its dripping tip covetously.

“Delicious,” Anthony offers silkily, his face inches from yours, a thronging need low in your pelvis, aching for relief, something you never felt with your late husband. His lips are on yours, lust burning in your belly as you taste yourself in his mouth. 

Benedict chooses this moment to swirl his wetten brush tip around your areola, and that has you moaning into Anthony’s kiss, your fingers raking into his lush hair as your other hand shoots out to grab Benedict’s bicep, a need to touch them both at once.

“Please…” your voice cracking, greedy for them both.

“Please, what?” Benedict chuckles darkly, his lips brushing your hairline, again holding you down to Anthony’s sensual onslaught.

“More…”

It's all you can say, tilting to look into his hazy eyes, clouded with lust, enjoying watching you squirm and pant and blossom under their attentions.

“Greedy…” Benedict volleys light-heartedly before kissing you, both of them dropping the paintbrushes, clattering to the floor.

Anthony’s fingers slither back down your centre line, tracing over the sensitive skin beneath your belly button but not stopping until they rest tauntingly over your weeping slit. You gasp into Benedict’s mouth as Anthony pushes a finger into you, his approving groan into your shoulder as you leak down his knuckles has you clenching around his invading digit. He adds another and begins to pump slowly, rocking his fingers rhythmically as your tongue parries with Benedict’s. 

Benedict breaks the kiss to brush his lips down your throat, hot kisses over your collarbone, lower still until his mouth is on the swell of your breast. Anthony adds a third finger, wet, filthy sounds from between your legs as your pussy clings to him, feeling so filled. His thumb hooks under your clitoral hood and starts to flick your sensitive nub in time with his finger thrusts just as Benedict's tongue swirls around your nipple, making your back curve up from the chaise, pushing your breast into his open mouth.

“I could watch this for hours…” Anthony asserts with a wicked little quirk of his eyebrow.

You squirm under them, so achingly aroused you feel on the edge of reason. One of them would be more than you have ever experienced before; both at once is almost lethal.

“Me too…” mirth laces Benedict’s response as he trails the point of his nose over your nipple. 

They glance at each other, telegraphing ideas silently. Benedict swaps to your other breast as Anthony moves, the angle of his fingers changing inside you, twisting as he rearranges between your splayed legs, pushing your thighs wide open, draping them on either side of the chaise.

The muscular swipe of Anthony's tongue through your slit has you crying out his name, a spike of pleasure so rough it catches you unawares, this act entirely new to you, something so intimate about his whole face buried into the wet heat between your legs.

Benedict kisses his way back up your neck as Anthony’s strong arms wrap around your hips, the solid mass of biceps curled into you as he drives you relentlessly, his tongue a spear lashing your swollen clit. Benedict swings around from kneeling at the side of the chaise to leaning over the curved back, fingers spidering down your skin from your shoulders towards your breasts.

“Is this the artful arrangement of bodies you envisaged?” His words are whispered hotly into your ear, your eyes fluttering closed at the decadent, smokey cadence.

You mumble something incoherent, the rush washing through your system stealing your thoughts, just as Anthony’s fingers start to move inside you again as he feasts upon you, closing his mouth around your sensitive nub and sucking hard with his lips.

“What was that?” Benedict chuckles, a teasing lilt that has you nuzzling your cheek into his lips, his fingertips dragging agonisingly slowly lower, over the round of your breasts, your nipples, still damp with his saliva, pebbled painfully even in the warm room, tingling for his firm touch.

“Yessss…” your reply is a sibilant rasp; he must know this is even better than what you had imagined, but he seems to enjoy hearing your affirmation regardless. Such investment in your pleasure amplifies your need.

Your hand shoots down to tug Anthony’s luscious hair, pushing your pelvis up into his face as he groans his approval of your wanton actions, chasing pleasure covetously. His fingers are buried deep inside you, curling and dragging over a spot that has you climbing so fast. Then Benedict roughly pinches your nipples, throbbing in sync with your clit under Anthony’s tongue, and you are sent stratospheric dizzyingly fast, a touch of rough treatment just what you need to push you over the edge you have been skating.

Benedict swallows your screams as you ride Anthony’s face in a wave of pleasure, clenching hard around his fingers, trying to expel them as he fights to stay inside you. Benedict's mouth is hot, possessive over yours, not letting you up for air in a way that only heightens your pleasure, a tingle zipping over your scalp as you burst and fracture under them.

For a few seconds, everything is blotted out, just a rush of blood in your ears and white-hot pleasure coursing through you. Their touch turns softer as you float down, Anthony’s fingers withdrawing from you with a wet noise as you lay dazed, utterly overwhelmed by the sudden intensity.

“Now that was a work of art…” the filthy poet opines velvety, a handsome, lopsided grin claiming his face as you stare up at him hovering over you, your view upside down. 

You are still too stunned even to form words, a stuttering noise that sounds more like a whimper, the only thing escaping your trembling lips.

“I think we may have stolen her power of speech,” Anthony observes wryly, crawling up, dropping pecked kisses onto random spots of your dewy skin.

He settles his muscular body over yours, his chest hair tickling your nipples, his face glazed with your arousal, and his sizeable cock brands your thigh through the material of his trousers. He moves in to steal a kiss that tastes tart, rolling your flavour onto your tongue, seemingly wanting you to savour it as much as he does.

“I've never enjoyed losing a bet more…” he rumbles enigmatically as you break apart, your brow knitting in confusion.

“He would not have been your art model today if he had not lost a bet,” Benedict supplies, his fingers massaging your scalp soothingly, dropping a kiss onto your forehead.

You smile blissfully, head swinging to look at them both, knowing it will broadcast your response, as well as anything spoken could.

“You might be right about the power of speech, brother,” Benedict jests gently as they rearrange on either side of you.

Hands running lightly over your arms and torso. You just assumed, as with your previous husband, that they would immediately move on to pursuing their pleasure, so when they do not, you are slightly confused, especially as their unhurried, sensual caresses reignite that flame deep in your core. After a few minutes of gentle intimacy you are unable to censor your curiosity any longer.

“Will neither of you take me?!”

You don't mean it to sound quite as indignant as it does, even though a large part of you enjoys their shocked expressions, neither expecting such boldness. But then both of their faces morph into a dangerous, smouldering look so similar you can see their shared genetics. It has you biting your lip on instinct.

“We both will if you employ that sort of tone with us…” Benedict threatens sonorously, leaning in so his lips graze your cheek, giving away that is precisely what they want too, a shiver running down your spine at all the possibilities, your soaked clit throbbing anew.

“Is that a promise or a threat, Mr Bridgerton?” You volley back, raising an eyebrow, this new play far too beguiling to resist.

“Insolent little thing…” Anthony growls.

Hands clutch you tightly, blunt fingernails digging into your soft flesh, both of them demanding a kiss, pulling you in each direction to plunder your mouth in turn. A thrill zips all the way from your head to your toes with this sudden change of pace—the gauntlet of challenge you have thrown down, unleashing something primal in them both. 

Before you know it, Benedict is standing up, and the sound of buttons popping open makes you inhale sharply around Anthony’s tongue, wanting so much to crane to see him stripping off, but your entire field of vision filled with the powerful Viscount, his hand seizing your jaw.

“Look at me,” Anthony demands, perhaps a tinge of jealousy that you may even dare glance elsewhere when he is kissing the life out of you. Your eyes meet, all blown pupils and damp lips, and it's blazingly intense like he is peering into your very thoughts. “Oh good girl…” he drips praisingly, and something hot and molten unfurls behind your ribs. The smirk that engulfs his face tells you he knows precisely what those two little words have done to you, lust roaring back to life in your veins. “Such a live wire…” he breathes, and you can see it is nothing but admiration. “I will be back…” his promise trailing off as he withdraws, your eyes tracking his movements away from you, taking a seat in a nearby wingback chair, that handsome smirk still there. It makes you want to reach out your hands and beckon him back, a slight pout that he has left you so soon.

But you inhale sharply as warm, ropey thighs part yours, and your attention is pulled back to Benedict, prowling over you on all fours, naked now. The glimpse of his rigid cock bobbing between his legs catches your breath before he claims your mouth and lowers himself upon you. So much heat and lithe, supple musculature. He doesn't even ask; your knees spreading wide is the open invitation that he takes, angling his hips and slipping into your waiting weeping pussy with one decisive thrust that has you grasping his shoulders and calling out. The blistering stretch is unlike anything your previous husband could achieve, and you are grateful for just how aroused you are, the feeling just the right side of painful. He holds still buried to the root, his handsome face rightfully smug as you adjust to this novel feeling of utter fullness.

“Is that what you needed?” He leans down and whispers those words in your ear, your breasts crushed under his smooth, hard chest. The tone is doused with brazen provocation that you can't help but rise to, one of your hands sliding covetously down his back.

“I think you know the answer you seek. Impress me, Benedict...” you incite as you grab his shapely rear, his responding groan vibrating your entire being. He withdraws and surges back in, your toes curling into the light fuzz on the back of his calves, what you have fantasised about for many weeks now, better than anything you have idly thought during each art lesson with him.

Benedict nuzzles into your neck and starts to set a rhythm that has you panting with each stroke, your back chafing the rich velvet fabric of the chaise, engulfed in his heat and woodsy scent, caged around you, his hands hooked under your shoulders, pulling you down onto his invading cock, his lips murmuring encouraging words onto your throat. 

Movement out the corner of your eye distracts you, and you twist your head a fraction to see Anthony naked now, too. That dusting of dark hair on his chest tapers over his toned stomach, a thin trail leading all the way down to the patch around the base of his cock. He has taken himself in hand and is watching you intently, eyes trained on you as his brother fucks into you over and over, rolling with him.

‘I want you…’

You mouth to Anthony, a need to have him desperate and wanting. His nostrils flare, and he bears his teeth, his grip on his cock vice-like, speeding up, a glistening bead of moisture squeezing from his tip at your very words. 

“Call her a good girl,” Anthony snarls, an instruction as much as a suggestion.

“Why would I when she is looking at you while I fuck her?” Benedict scolds satirically, and that has you swinging your attention back to the man inside you, a little flare of guilt in your gut that you are unable to divide your attention between them, wanting them both. “There she is,” he teases gravelly as his lips ghost the shell of your ear. “There’s my good girl….” he adds for good measure, the lowest register you have ever heard from him, and you cannot help your body’s response.

You clench around him, and he groans long and low, his grip on you harsher, snapping his hips so forcefully his hip bones dig deep into your splayed thighs, your eyes rolling, his tip grazing your hilt.

“So fucking perfect…” he curses, his mouth opening yours, raiding you, setting a pace so punishing now you can only cling to him, moaning loudly, him nudging your swollen clit with each stroke. The chaise squeaks under the onslaught now, feet scraping hard on the polished wood floor.

Still, you cannot stop your stolen glances at Anthony as Benedict huffs into your neck. He looks so majestic, knees splayed, eyes trained on you. You want to climb into his lap and ride him until your teeth are rattling. You can feel yourself climbing higher, each jolt to your clit another step closer, a gentle flutter in your pussy you know Benedict can feel, him emitting little groans with each involuntary constriction.

“You are so close. Come for me again; I need to feel it,” Benedict pleads breathily, pulling up to meet your gaze, a sheen across his forehead as he ploughs into you, never faltering in his athletic pace. 

One of his hands sweeps down your flank, long fingers squirrel between your bodies, unerringly finding their target, a scream ripping from your lungs at the extra stimulation. A few flicks from him, and you are gone for a second time, hurtling towards the stars, bowing upwards, tensing hard, each muscle snapping taught as body and mind are flooded with ecstasy. 

Distantly, you hear Benedict growl, more animal than man, a litany of filthy praise you can barely decipher tumbling from his lips as he pulls out abruptly, you whimpering at the sudden loss, your pussy bereft, rippling around nothing now as his hot seed spills onto your belly.

He collapses onto you for a few beats; his weight is heavy and cloying, his lips meeting yours in an artless kiss. Then you feel him climb off of you slowly, a soft rag dragging over your skin as he cleans you of his seed and mingled juices. He kisses your cheek chastely, but his words are interrupted by Anthony calling out across the room. 

“Are you ready for more?”

Your attention immediately snaps across to the Viscount. Without thought, you are springing to your feet, gait uncertain, like a newborn fawn finding its legs as you take a few shaky steps towards him, an exquisite ache between your thighs from all that has transpired.

“Are you coming to me?” Anthony coos impressed, his hands shooting out to steady you, gripping your waist.

You nod enthusiastically, utterly drunk on the tide of pleasure coursing through you, which greatly entertains him. You climb into his waiting lap and draw him immediately into a filthy, wet kiss. Your tongues tangle as you shuffle forward into the wide, comfortable chair, his hips sliding forward to meet you, and without preamble, you rise fractionally and sink onto him, your puffy, swollen channel suctioning onto his thick veiny cock with a filthy sound. He groans beautifully as you sink, taking him into your pussy, the stretch of him just as mindblowing, perhaps even a shade thicker, like his physique. You stutter a curse, eyes to the ceiling, wrapping your arms tight around his neck, your nipples pressed into the fur of his chest, his balls pressed between your bottom cheeks as you sit speared upon him. 

“Are you going to ride me?” His question is rich like chocolate, buzzing against your chin where his mouth is now hooked open, his teeth grazing the bone there.

“Yes,” you slur, tilting your gaze down to look down at him, already knowing you would do it until your body gives out, so desperate again to feel that high only they can provide.

“Good girl.”

They know it's a weapon now and deploy it with gleeful abandon. Reflexively you contract around Anthony’s cock, both of you calling out, his muscular thighs tensing under your weight, his toes lifting from the floor. He utters a curse, too, a hand wrapping around the nape of your neck, then cupping the back of your head, tugging the hair at your scalp between his knuckles.

“Ride,” he commands, low and slow, a menacing tone that has you stuttering with restoked arousal. A burning need to please him, to do precisely what he tells you to. And so you push up until his head is just inside your pussy, then drop back down, shuffling your stance wider to get a better range of motion. He watches you with a hooded, scorching gaze; a devastating quirk of his eyebrow has you moving steadily. Pressing all of yourself into him, with each pass, his hard abdomen scuffs your distended clit, your pussy lips so puffy now with so much arousal and repeated blows.

He nudges your face aside so he can teeth your earlobe. “You feel exquisite. All swollen with lust,” he croons, his breath gusting hot, his choice of words making you flare hotter, driving onwards with renewed vigour, a slight burn in your thighs as you rise and fall upon him, feeling yourself dripping down onto him, needing to cling onto him to keep seated.

“Could we do this on the floor?” you murmur into his stubbled cheek, realising your range of motion is slightly restricted by the shape of the chair.

His response is immediate; without leaving your body, he effortlessly takes your weight, wraps an arm around you and somehow manoeuvres smoothly onto the floor, his spine now resting on the front of the chair cushion—so much vigour and athleticism from both of these men. 

“Turn around, sweet girl,” you startle and whip your head over your shoulder.

There sat on the chase, lower half now wrapped in a drape of crisp white fabric, looking like a Grecian statue made flesh, is Benedict—a sketchpad and charcoal in hand. 

“Turn around so that I may draw you in the throes of passion,” he clarifies, that dangerous crooked smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You look back to Anthony, suspecting from the twitch of his lip he is more than happy about this development. Silently he spins you both around and lays prone on the polished floor underneath you, still rock hard and buried deep in your pussy. Placing your hands on his chest, you lean forward slightly, take a deep breath and then start to ride again, slowly, the slight discomfort of the hardwood under your kneecaps heightening your pleasure somehow. The range of motion possible now allows you to experiment, to test the delicious drag of his cock by tilting your pelvis in each direction, then in a circular motion, hitting a spot inside that has you hissing and your nails scraping through the thick thatch of hair there.

“Take what you need…” Anthony advocates through gritted teeth, reading your every signal. 

Your eyes ping up from his imploring expression to Benedict, his gaze holding yours daringly as you start to fuck his brother again. Wantonly, luxuriating in the rapt audience you have. A liquid cascade of heat deluges you, the scrape of charcoal on the page spurring you on—to be more daring, leaning back to grab Anthony’s knees as leverage for your movements, your breast pushed high into the air, more performative knowing this carnal moment is being committed to paper.

Benedict mouths words of encouragement as you glance down to see Anthony’s eyes now screwed shut, his biceps bulging in stark relief as his hands clamp your waist, and his hips rock upwards with each downstroke you take, chasing his peak with the same vigour you are, each press of his cock better than the last. Your muscles scream from all the effort, but you do not stop, a bead of sweat sliding down your spine as you ride roughly, with abandon. Anthony’s eyes are open again now, his hands cupping your breasts and pinching your nipples so hard you stutter. Greedily you mash his thick cock right against that same spot that has your mouth slack, head tilted up, and fingers curling into his flesh, shocked at how close you are yet again in such rapid succession.

“Say it,” you grit out, staring up to the ceiling, not looking at either, not sure even you know who you are even asking. 

“Good girl..” it's in perfect unison, and that is what pushes you into oblivion.

You grind to a halt, pussy contracting in waves around his cock as he writhes under you, him gasping loudly as you again float far away, that blissful cloud almost making you miss his urgent call, him eventually hauling you off of him, just in time for him to paint your belly with a thick arc of seed, his whole body jerking with the almost violence of release.

He collapses under you, quivering, utterly spent, and you do the same. Faceplant into his chest, rubbing your nose into the musky dampness of his chest hair as you huff breaths, bone-deep but sated exhaustion from the exertion.

Pliantly, you allow Anthony to slip out from under you and you feel him pick you up bridal style as you curl into him, fatigue lapping your edges. He places you onto the chaise, and then both men are flanking you, limbs tangling and gentle kisses as they entwine around you. It’s a few quiet, tender moments before curiosity again gets the better of you.

“May I see it?” you query quietly, abashed, pressing your nose into Benedict’s shoulder, not willing to meet his gaze.

His laugh is rich and resonant, reaching around to grab his pad and show you. There, in elegant charcoal lines, is a scandalous but beautiful rendition of you, naked, your peaked nipples standing proud, head thrown back. The detail is perfect, even down to the patch of downy hair at the apex of your thighs. There is no rendition of Anthony, but at one glance, you can tell it is a depiction of an erotic capture of a woman riding a man. The very picture of passion, just as he promised.

“It is stunning,” you gasp.

“It is yours,” he rushes out.

“I… I want it to be yours,” you confess ardently, your hands sliding to grasp Anthony’s arm draped over your belly. “Both of yours..” you confirm.

Warm lips kiss your cheek on either side. 

“We will treasure it.” Anthony asserts as Benedict nods sagely.

You stifle a yawn and nuzzle into their warmth as Benedict suggests you all retire to his bedroom upstairs. 

“Tis only 3pm...” your protest is nominal at best, and you allow him to pick you up, wrapping you in another sheet as Anthony does the same, trailing behind you as Benedict ascends the stairs.

“When is your next art lesson?” Anthony queries as the door to an opulent bedroom swings open.

“Tomorrow?” you riposte cheekily, and they both chuckle as you add: “If you will have me…”

“I do believe that can be arranged,” Benedict confirms fondly as he approaches a handsome four-poster bed.

“Artfully…” Anthony adds wryly as you share a laugh with them both, falling into their welcoming joint embrace.

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[caspersscareschool]

also i don't get why people act like it's up to interpretation or some big mystery who's older because the only way to even find out that they're both 14 is by checking the wiki. where it also explicitly confirms that leo is older

this is probably an unpopular opinion but i actually don't see leo and donnie as twins at all. even aside from the whole different species thing i feel like leo being the second oldest is a crucial enough aspect of their family dynamic that it would make more sense for her to be closer in age to raph than donnie, or at least right in the middle between them. i'm jesus on the cross for thinking this btw

[eccentricallygothic]

|| Exotic ||

Description: You were The Duke of Suffolk's exotic little gift for devising the perfect plan that had led to the successful colonization of your homeland.

Disclaimer: I (unfortunately) do not own Charles Brandon. This story contains dark and mature content so please browse at your own discretion. Minors do not interact. Please DO NOT REPOST my work in any way and DO NOT USE MY IDEAS WITHOUT PERMISSION, thank you.

Pairing: Dark!Charles Brandon | Brown!Reader.

Warning(s): Noncon/dubcon, colonization, racism, age gap (reader is in her early 20's, Charles is in his late 40's), coercion, dacryphilia, p-in-v, boob play, virginity loss, d/s dynamics, power imbalance, misogyny, naive!reader, corruption kink, fingering, humiliation, degradation.

Note: I have clearly taken creative liberties. My stories are generally inclusive for all ethnicities and body types but in order for the plot to make sense, the reader has to be brown and preferably South Asian. Though you can still imagine yourself in it all the same. Also, English is not my first language and I haven't really watched the show so I apologize beforehand for the lack of use of the appropriate language that this piece requires. 

MASTERLIST

"I WILL NOT HAVE HIS BASTARD BLUE EYED GHOULS!" 

One of her many shouts burst through the crevices of the chambers that she had been forced into by the frustrated servants who were just as upset as the maiden by her relentless protest and fight. Charles sighed to himself as he took a sip of his drink, numbly watching the fire and waiting for his unwed young bride to be prepared for him. 

He was the only one who could actually understand her, as she solely spoke her native tongue that he had learnt to ensure the preparation of a fail-proof plan with flawless execution. Infiltrate and occupy. To everyone else in his Estate, she was a wild savage with no sense of civility. One that the Master had taken a fancy to during his business expeditions in her homeland. 

When his wisdom and cunning had added yet another colony to Henry's growing kingdom, the King was obligated to give his best friend the object of his attention as a gift. Charles' eyes that would follow her every time she was around the marketplace, naively going about her day with no knowledge of the coral eyes that observed her every move from afar had not gone unnoticed by the King.

"I do apologize in advance, Master" the head maid bowed after approaching his seat. "The girl has been prepared and placed in your chambers but she is bestial and restive. I do not recom–"

"That will be all, Mrs. Chapman, goodnight" the lady was mildly taken aback as she had gotten used to being the second in command ever since the Master's family had passed away from a devastating plague sometime over a decade ago. 

The silence of the Estate had been his companion during his idle hours for years before this night.  

And now there was her…

Charles sighed to himself as he lifted his heavy body out of his seat after putting down the glass and made his way to his feral little present that awaited him in his chambers. 

His form silently moved through the shadows of the dimly lit halls as the man neared the enclosure he was planning to remain in for weeks at the very least. Undeniable anticipation and excitement began to course through his veins that had not felt this warm for ages now the closer he got to the heavy double doors. 

Charles paused for a second before he entered, tuning her shrieking out and taking a moment to both calm his nerves and settle his composure. He was getting too old to tolerate the wailings of a child for long, but he did not want to ruin this for himself. 

When the man was sure a few moments after that he was ready, he raised his head and entered. 

It had been too long. 

Much to his surprise, the shouting ceased at once and was replaced by quiet sniffling upon his appearing. He had been told that the years had granted him an intimidating mien but it was only now that he believed it when the girl's ear numbing protests turned into mere whimpers at his showing up.

A frown made its way on Charles' face when he turned away from the door after ensuring the security of its latches to finally face the girl. Because though she looked stunning -and Heavens, the sight before him was truly breathtaking-, he found her delicate, dusk-hued hands bound to the headboard of the bed with cloth pieces that matched the shade of her attire.

And oh, her attire… 

Tan fingers decorated with scarlet henna that was deep in shade, hands sparkling with the jewelry that had been draped over them and locked in place at her wrists from below and around the base of her digits from top. The velvety caramel of her arms adorning red and gold glass bangles that jingled every time she mumly struggled against her cruel restraints that cut at her obviously pampered skin whenever she moved. Her face was half-covered with a dark red drape into which sparkling beads had been sown in the shapes of flowers. Her binds that held her arms captive and away at her sides caused her heavy chest to push out against the deep neckline of her crimson blouse, the mud coloured swells feverishly trembling every time she grunted and give a pull to her bruising wrists. The long skirt she had been made to wear below matched the color of the rest of her clothing articles, her fight having raised it up her hazel shaded ankles around which glittery jewelry similar to the hand pieces she wore were wrapped. Her toes that curled every now and then had been coloured the same scarlet shade as her fingers and the sheets contrasted her body in the most stunning way.

The King had really outdone himself with Charles' reward this time around. 

The curve of her body was perfect and different to everything the older man had ever had the pleasure of experiencing. A familiar but much forgotten warmth spread over his chest and traveled down to his nether regions as he neared the girl. 

"D- Don't come any closer!" A scared little maiden from a foreign land speaking in an inferior tongue was not to tell him what to do in his own house. "T- This is utter blasphemy! A girl is to only present herself like this to her husband on the night of their wedding! This is vile and most sinister!" 

Charles sighed to himself before taking a seat next to her. Then he raised the drape from over her face and rested it above her head, only to reveal the most uniquely beautiful face he had ever seen in any land, the dark and thick curls that framed her features accentuating her beauty even more. "Then I suppose it is a good thing that you are my bride, is it not?" She did look the part. 

Her big, almond shaped brown eyes that had been lined with kohl widened when he responded in her tongue. "N- Never!" Y/n tried to move away, her heavy nose ring that was being held up by a thin, gold chain on one side of her face bouncing every time she spoke with nervous agitation. "I- I would never wed one that bears likeness to corpses!" Now this was amusing to Charles. The man could not help the small smile that spread over his lips. "B- Better to die than lay with a blue eyed ghoul!" 

Heat spread across his spine at her naivete.

Then he softly snorted. "In that case I am most regretful to inform you that these decisions are for the men to make, little one" she flinched her face away with a gasp when he went to caress her cheek with the coarse back of his hand. "Young maidens like yourself are much too simple minded to know what is right for them."

"It definitely is not becoming the slave of an old devil!" One of Charles' eyebrows raised at that. 

One with a mouth. 

Taming her would surely be an experience.

"Now that would be real blasphemy, letting such exquisite beauty go to waste by sending it into slavery" the girl was puzzled for a moment as she blinked up at him in confusion, unable to decide whether it was a compliment or an insult to her prior words. Perhaps both. Definitely a trap. The Duke took this time to lean towards one of her binds and reached for it. "Do you promise to behave yourself if I rid you of these?" He had heard the servants' complaints of her biting and kicking them. 

The girl was at a loss of words as she warily watched his face for a hint, clearly struggling to understand his intentions. Charles bit his lip to suppress his smirk. He was not aware that he still had the charm that had had a renown of its own during the days of his youth. 

"Hm?" Y/n's eyes traveled from him to where his hand hovered above the bind. Her bottom lip disappeared between her teeth and she sucked at it for a few moments before returning her gaze to his. The stubborn girl only nodded, not sparing him any more words than necessary, keeping a careful eye on his movements.

Not that there was much she could do against him.

Charles' fingers pulled the knot free and gathered her bruised wrist in them after it collapsed from its suspension. A gasp escaped the girl when he brought it to his lips and pressed a soft, ticklish kiss to the tender skin, lowering it only to reach for the other bind though caressing it with his thumb all the while.

A frown marred the girl's features as she rotated the wrists in their joints for relief, but only for a few moments. Before any words could be exchanged, her free hand that was not being pampered by the man's suspicious tenderness reached for one of the heavy pillows. 

The Duke's jaw ticked as his eyes shut in forced composure, curls tossing astray when the pillow was hauled in his direction to serve as a device for escape. But alas. He was faster in judging and blocking the weapon with one firm hand. 

Charles breathed through his nose to refrain from expressing his ire and bit back the surge of strength that tried to overpower him. The darkness grew within him as his realization of the sheer power he held in this moment coupled with her intoxicating scent drove him completely mad. A whine left the girl as she hissed, twisting her fragile wrist within his rough palm to try and break free from the bone crushing hold it had been held captive in during her attempt to flee.

"Now, where do we think we are going?" While it took Y/n all of her strength to try and push his arm away, the man easily hauled her body back in its previous spot before addressing her with a much unimpressed look.

"Home! I want to go home!" Tears glistened in her deep brown eyes as her chin wobbled, but she refused to give up her struggle. "You cannot keep me here, old devil! I shall protect my honor at all costs and I shall run away!"

The Duke could not help but let out a cold chuckle at that, keeping his firm hold on her all the same. "You are here on the King's orders, little one. Even if you manage -which you will not, let me assure you-, they will just bring you back here to me."

"Then I implore you let me go!" She was very obviously desperate. And he could feel his sick excitement increase. "Please, I do not wish to be here! I refuse to be desecrated at the hands of your likeness!" Charles had never been one to coerce or force; courtesy of his global popularity, but all this fight and pleading kept adding to the fire that was spreading within him. 

It was then when he had to physically refrain himself from pouncing at her right then and there to strip her of all dignity and innocence, he realized that he wanted– nay, needed this girl under him at all costs. 

And fast.

There was not a doubt that he wanted to break her. But the enjoyment he wished to take from it was not an instant one that would soon become tiring. 

Rather, one which would only get better and more interesting by the day.

Seeping under her beautiful skin like a poison that scorches but is eternally inadequate to fully kill. 

"No can do, you have been given to me by the King himself to keep and guard as I see fit" he couldn't resist the urge to caress the top of her hand with his thumb and gave in. "You are safe within the premises of the Estate and under my name. Though if you breach it…" Her throat gulped down a nervous bile as her cheeks elongated in horror and big eyes widened even more. 

Good. 

"I- If I breach it…?" Y/n couldn't help but edge on when a few moments passed in silence and the Duke refused to share more information. 

Charles' shaky inhale was nerve-wracking as he willed a troubled expression onto his dark eyes. "You will surely be torn apart into hundreds of pieces before any measure of aid can even be attempted…" Her mouth fell open in shock at the revelation. "Word around here spreads fast, I hear…" He pretended to hesitate. "Everyone is curious whether it feels better or worse between the legs of an eastern woman…" She stopped her struggle, the jingle of her glass bangles dying down. "And if they also bleed red…" She suddenly shuffled closer, sniffling and nearly cowering into him. 

There, there. 

"M- My honor…!" Was all she could whimper after a few beats of haunting silence. 

Charles sighed in a deliberately long breath, feigning sympathy as though he was not the sole reason of her being in her present circumstance. "Let me have it, and I shall protect it with my life" dipping his head forward, the Duke leaned in, the movement forcing a shaky gasp out of the girl. "I am afraid your only choices are that or who knows what at the hands of my landsmen–"

"I beseech you speak no more!" Shaky hands flew to cover her ears as she sobbed out loud at last, the movement causing the drape to move and reveal the heavy looking pendents that hung from her ears. Charles wondered if they would make the same sound as her bangles and anklets if he were to take her while she wore them. 

The Duke bit his lip as he felt blood rush to his nether regions. 

Oh, it truly had been a long time. 

The feeling was nearly foreign.

Yet painfully inviting; welcoming. 

"We are each our own devil, little one." He let go of her wrist, lowering his head as he went to move away. "I can see that you rather leave here, so I will–"

"N- No…" The girl slowly shook head at first and then resorted to vehemently doing it when he continued to turn away, stopping him by clinging to one of his arms before pulling his half risen body back down next to her. "Must not bring disgrace to grandfather's turban!" As they were a symbol of pride and honor in her culture. 

Charles sighed in a commiserative manner. "I most sincerely wish there was a way I could help you" he could almost visualize her thought process as her furrowed eyebrows raised from their prior position. 

"B- But you just said there was!" Now it was his turn to bring his eyebrows together although in faux confusion, unbeknownst to the girl.  

"Did I?" When she desperately nodded with a spine-chilling eagerness that contrasted her prior abhorrence to his existence, Charles couldn't help but shift a little to try and relieve the growing ache between his legs. 

"Y- Yes…" The Duke just had to crawl between her legs now. 

"I am afraid I do not recall, sweet one" her tears only made the pressure that was ever-building worse. 

"A- About… That… Just now…!" When Charles tilted his to the side in pretend puzzlement, she couldn't help but cry out in frustration. "A- About surrendering my honor to you to keep and protect!" His heart jumped at the way she said it, the thumping of the organ now matching that of his nether regions. 

"But you did not seem to like the proposition t–"

"I like it! Please, I do!" She desperately squeezed his hand that she held in both of hers. "I agree! To all of it!" The girl had moved onto her knees. "Please, please guard me! I beg to be taken under your wing, Master, please!" Her heavy breasts jiggled against her blouse as she leaned towards him and pistoned her body up and down on her heels in a pleading manner. His eyes couldn't help but travel down to the inviting sight.

Heavens. 

And to think that she was not even aware of just what she was doing. 

Charles could not help but imagine her bouncing on something else entirely. 

"Are you sure, little one?" The girl's nods were so eager she seemed more and more like just another bride by the passing second. "I do not–" mortified for her endangered honor, she bolted forward and pressed her lips to his, though for a while too brief for The Duke's liking.

In the blink of an eye, she was back in her spot on her knees, leaning back against the heels of her feet and looking down at her hands that still held his. "I- I am sure, M- Master…" A shaky breath escaped him at the way the word rolled off her tongue. "W- Want to be guarded and…" Her tongue darted out to swipe across her bottom lip while she mustered the strength required to utter the next words. "K-" she hesitated for a second now that she had somewhat calmed down. "Kept by you."

Charles could not help the triumphant smirk that spread across his still much handsome features. "If that truly is the case, then…" His free hand reached for her tear stained face as his index finger hooked under her chin to prop it up and closer to him. "Come here." 

The girl's breaths were heavy as her palms grew a nervous cold against his, dampening the top of his hand with the clamminess that produced between them. Her shy eyelids fluttered along with her thick, curly lashes as she tried to look at him with their lowered position, the rise and fall of her chest increasing when Charles moved in until there was no proximity left between them.

The mass of hair lined along the edge of her eyes trembled when Charles' soft lips pressed against hers and his rather coarse mustache tickled the skin under her nose, causing her to squeeze his hand reactively and send another icy shiver down his spine. The Duke sighed against the warmth of her tender mouth, sensing that she was not really responding both due to the circumstance and lack of experience but the feeling was too thrilling for him to let go just yet. 

Y/n whimpered when the man softly moaned into her mouth and tilted his head to further deepen the kiss, now moving the hand he had on her chin sideways along her jaw until he was cupping it to hold her face in place. The room filled with loud sounds of skin sucking against skin for short intervals and the girl soon found herself gasping for air. 

"Down on your back, now" Charles growled and barely managed to hold back when she finally broke the kiss by softly biting down on his bottom lip to be allowed to breathe, the action only adding to his need in turn. 

In a matter of a few moments, the unwilling girl was lying in The Duke's bed compliantly, cheeks flushed and eyes teary in contempt, yet legs parted in a welcoming manner as he pulled at the harnesses of his clothes while trying to triumph over his frantic breathing.

But there was only so much he could keep under control.

He could not recall the last time a pretty little thing had been presented for him like this, if ever. 

And she looked so innocent, so sweet, so supple, submissive and small with her big, glassy kohl lined eyes full of fear. 

The sound of the last of his garments hitting the ground was a loud thump in the deadly silent room as he silently marveled at just how vulnerable she really was.

Solely at this mercy.

The girl's jewelry jingled softly as she gasped under her breath and whipped her head in the other direction at the sight of the man; practically a stranger, yet devastatingly now the owner of her new life standing nude before her in all his glory. 

Charles could not help the sick smirk that made its way on his face at the sight before he slowly mounted the bed like a serpent slithering towards its prey, movements silent and intentions vile. Y/n was forced whimper out a shaky breath when Charles crawled over her as she felt his very exposed body graze against her clothed one. 

"Here, now." He placed one hand beside her head and used the other one to recenter her face to look up at him, palm unintentionally cupping her jaw as his thumb caressed the soft skin of her cheekbones. "Keep those pretty eyes on me, little one" her full chest touched against his each time she took another one of her exaggerated breaths, frozen in place as she looked up at him in horrified confusion.  

Her deep brown eyes only widened more at what he did next when his hand left the side of her face to meet one of hers that lay limp at her sides. "Do you feel that, sweet girl?" Y/n's mouth fell open when Charles guided her trembling hand to his painfully hard sex organ and prompted her to touch it. "This is what you do to me…" His eyes traveled down her face and onto her much inviting spotless neck, descending down to the perfect curve of her swells that smoothed into a bump before coming back up to look into hers, "everytime, while fully clothed. I dare not imagine what I'd do if you were even half indecently clad" her face was hot with a deep blush. 

Embarrassment, humiliation, shyness.

Charles moaned when she started moving her hand along his length, a petrified expression on her face as she grunted a little with having to reach so far down, though not daring to complain. "Good, good." He had had enough of the slow strokes, The Duke wanted something more fulfilling, faster, tighter, warmer if he did not want to end up bruised down there by the night's end. "Very good" his thick curls fell over his face when he dipped his head down to kiss her, a few strands of silver glinting in the dim light of his chambers as he pushed Y/n's arms above her head, the placing causing her swells to nearly fall out of her deep blouse. 

When Charles pulled back to breathe, he cursed as he grinded against her before kissing her once more and then trailing his lips along her jawline, pecking every patch he touched. "Hmmm, keep them there" he referred to her arms, leaving them above her head and slowly bringing his own down by tracing the outlines of her body with them. "Tell me you'll keep your arms above your head for me because you're my good girl" his hands greedily groped her heavy chest, causing the girl to wince as her back arched in response to the foreign treatment, her neck craning to one side as Charles sucked and lapped at the tender skin his mouth was latched onto.

"I- I… ah!" Her eyes fluttered close and clenched when he suddenly bit down on the junction between her shoulder and neck before tracing his tongue over the sore area to cool the pang, hands squeezing her soft hips at the same time. "I w- will keep my arms a- above my head for you because I am your g- good girl… M- Master" fuck. 

There was a bewitching way about the way that name rolled off her tongue.

Charles could swear stars appeared in his vision as the pressure between his legs increased. 

"Heavens, little one!" The Duke grunted as he snatched the fabric of her skirt upwards and away from her priorly covered legs, the overwhelmed man unable to hold back anymore as he moved to her swells now that he had left some satisfying marks of his passion along the width of her neck. "Where have you been all this time?" 

Happy and safe at home with my family. A tear trickled down the side of Y/n's face as she shivered when his nude leg brushed against hers that was just as exposed as his now, the contact evoking a strange feeling within her. Goosebumps appeared on her skin and the hair on the back of her neck rose as Charles' lips hovered above the pulpy skin, the golden brown bristles of his beard scraping against its feathery softness.  

"Hm?" Charles growled when she gave no response but then chuckled as he ran his tongue along the narrow valley of the cushions on her chest. "Silly little thing doesn't know what to say now, does she?" A shaky breath escaped him as the coarse back of his hand rubbed against her tender thighs that he had finally managed to expose by pushing the skirt all the way up to her waist. Y/n's eyes widened and she jumped up against his face with a start when his impatient hand snatched at the neckline of her blouse and pulled at the fabric until it separated from the rest of the cloth and tore off in a big piece. But before the girl could voice her shock, Charles beat her to it. "Tell me you've been obediently waiting on your Master, me, all this time" his demand was husky and harsh against her breasts that he was taking his time tasting and biting, the softness making him moan. 

The girl gulped as she blinked through her teary vision, biting her lip in concentration and snaking her fingers around the bars of the headboard to keep them there like she had been ordered to. The last thing she could afford right now was to anger The Duke who was becoming less and less of a man by the passing second, every single little thing about him turning primal and beastly. 

"I- I have been obediently–" the sickening words burnt on her tongue for she must have been a cradled babe when the man on top of her was in the prime of his youth. "Been… B–" her throat was parched as her tongue ran over her dry lips every now and then to create a semblance of hydration. 

"Go ahead, sweet girl" Charles had begun rocking against her already, rubbing his curled length between his stomach and the top of her caramel thigh, the contrasts of their skins only adding to his pleasure. "You're doing so well for me" the slurp of his mouth against one of her hardened nipples overshadowed the sound of him ripping her underclothes away. 

Y/n tried to close her legs, utterly uncomfortable and much too exposed as she felt herself getting thirstier than before, the strange surge of waves that his indecent touches and lewd words were causing in the base of her stomach tightening into a ball each time he squeezed her somewhere or dug his teeth into the soft cushions of her breasts, razorlike canines stinging against her plush swells. 

"I- I have been obediently w- waiting on m- my Master, you, all this time..." Her back arched with another start when Charles' fingers dipped between her nude legs and touched the most private part on her body, the feeling of the soft, warm and moist bumpy flesh causing him to moan so loud against the breast that he was sucking at now after having marked its companion to his liking. 

"Heavens…!" Was all the older man could gasp out as he let his fingers glide free over her folds and squishy petals to both get a feel of them and memorize every little detail possible. "You're wet, God–" his smug smile was so deep that his dimples appeared and he had to peek between his curls that fell over his eyes when he looked up at her. "You are not even aware of it, are you?" The girl had no idea what he meant indeed. "Oh, you sweet little dirty girl" as he attacked her lips with his desperate mouth, his free hand flew to restrain both of hers back above her head when the tip of his finger prodded at her tiny slit and the girl gasped, unaware of its existence altogether. 

"Nuh, uh, little girl" Charles tutted between hot, breathy, wet and sloppy kisses, the red color that had been painted on the girl's lips now an increasing mess around both their mouths. "Good girls keep their arms up and eyes down under their Masters" he let go only to reach for one of her ear pendents and hurriedly felt it with his thumb before ducking down to push his tongue in her mouth to explore the tight enclosure, stifling the gasp she let out when he finally sheathed the finger he had been stroking her with inside her hot cavern. "Do you understand?" He was breathless when he pulled back momentarily to moan at the feeling of her stiff opening clenching around his digit. "Tell me you understand." 

The girl struggled to breathe under his beast-like countenance, accidentally biting down on his lip albeit only to make him moan harder when he started to move his finger in the vertical fashion it was meant to be stimulated in. "I- I…" The pain, the buzzing excitement increasing in the pit of her stomach, the strange feeling which was starting to overpower the initial ache of the intimate intrusion as well as the way Charles was basically chewing away everywhere he could reach her with his mouth with such urgency that it seemed as though she was on the verge of disappearing and would do so any second. 

"Please, go ahead" the tenderness in his desperate plea surprised both of them as Charles worked her open for his leaking cock that held a renown for splitting open tight little cunts. "You sound so sweet when you do" his free hand now explored her ear by grazing the fingertips along the crevices of the helix and cartilage, some places pierced with small and shiny studs with expensive stones in them, other spots having gold earrings hanging from them.  

The Duke decided she was more extraordinary than everything he had ever seen in terms of beauty. 

Perhaps to a point where it shifted to the realm of the sublime. 

Immeasurably superior. 

Feeling the buzz in her cunt get stronger when he added another finger to her warm enclosure of soaking flesh, the girl threw her head back and whined when Charles enveloped one of her sore nipples between his lips again. "I- I understand, Master." And that was it.

It had to be now. 

The man tore himself away from her by sheer willpower for his chest wished not to be parted with hers much softer and inviting one, hard arms snaking under and around her back to reunite their contrasting skins as Charles' cock slipped into place against her opening as though it had been made only to do that. 

"It will hurt a little," lifting her off the bed, he moved onto his knees to move better as he readied himself to sink his cock deep within her. "But then it will feel so good you will beg me to keep you in this bed for days on end" the confused girl did not want to agree but her stimulated body was betraying her in ways more than one. "Just trust me…" His features twitched when he finally lowered his hips and her somewhat prepared entrance allowed the tip to violate the hot cavern, the feeling overwhelming him into groaning aloud and for the girl to reach for his broad shoulders to sink her nails in, eyes and mouth widening alike.

Was it even supposed to be put in there? 

She knew something happened behind the closed doors of a married pair for the fulfillment of marital duties and to create children but… this? 

Y/n did not know so she was not sure but as Charles started to move his hips, guiding her body with the arms he had around it to accommodate his soft thrusts, she wondered why the queer heart-upsetting feeling that made her somewhat nauseous felt a very unusual kind of… good at the same time amidst of everything. 

The girl could not recognize the feeling as pleasure just yet for she was yet to experience the end and get addicted to it like all did, but sweat broke out on her temples when she realized that she wanted him to go on, move faster, make the pain disappear and rub her in that way again to unravel the mysteries of this mysterious ball that was growing tighter and more suffocating by the passing second. 

"I am the biggest cock you've ever had, huh little one?" Her cheeks were flushed as she frowned in pain, mouth agape. "Say it" his demands were primal growls as he felt himself twitch inside her, one hand coming to pat her cheek condescendingly to get her to listen better. "Tell me I am the biggest cock you've ever had" the burn of her nails was too good against his hard shoulders. 

"Y- You are the biggest cock I h- have ever had, Master" Y/n's voice broke as she blinked away tears and stars, unaware of the meaning of her own words. 

"That is correct" he groaned as though in pain, tugging his cock out of her before pushing it back in again. "I am the biggest cock you have ever had. The only cock you had ever had" the man was breathless against her. "The only one you will ever have. You're all mine" the promise was sealed with a furious kiss. 

"P- Please…" For what, she knew not. But her head craned back as she jutted her chest out towards him to treat again the way he had been doing for the past few minutes, the marks that he had left on her skin hot and territorial. 

"What is it, sweet girl?" Charles husked as one of Y/n's hands moved to brush the mop of his curls away to get a better look at his blue eyes. So remarkably handsome. Her eyebrows furrowed as the sheer manliness of his aged face brought an indescribable shiver down her spine and made her clench around him, causing the man to grunt in pleasure as his hips started to speed up. 

"H- Hurts but feels so… so…" Charles smirked as he panted, struggling to move within her narrow passage of flesh. "D- Don't know but– oh," one of his hands dipped between her legs and the result was the most obscene sound she had ever made and he had ever heard. The genuineness of pure surprise and pleasure made The Duke's head spin. "Master!" 

"Don't you worry your pretty little head, my sweet" Charles spoke through a mouthful of one of her dark brown nipples, slurping at it and his own spit as he went. "Just trust Master and lay back, he will take care of you" her toes curled as she let out the same sensual sound again, arching her back and going limp momentarily due to the shock of whatever her body was suddenly subjected to. 

"I was made to protect you, only in death will I be kept from this oath" Charles whispered in her ear after moving to it, pressing kisses to it as well as her cheek to fuck out her orgasm to the best of his ability. It had been a while but that did not mean he had forgotten any of his infamous tricks. Y/n could only blink away the stars that appeared in her darkened vision as she barely made out his promise over the ringing of her ears coupled with the thumping of her heart. 

Was it a good thing?

What could be done if it was not?

Though as Charles grunted before she felt something warm and wet fill her cavern, the man reuniting his arms around her waist to piston into her harder and deeper than he had done in the past few minutes, she felt a sense of permanency wash over her. 

Something broken forever. 

An angel completely tainted. 

A cage eternally chained. 

The rosy pink mix of dissolved purity and unholy discharge below their conjoined bodies was a testament to the fact.

Tagging 🩷: @warriormirkwood @secretdream2 @hangmanscoming

[kalki-tarot]

CHANNELED LOVE LETTER FROM FUTURE SPOUSE ♡

my readings are for entertainment purposes only! tarot is a divination tool. it is not a substitute for medical and professional advice, nor is it meant to be taken as such. i don’t take responsibility for any choice(s) made by you or others regarding my readings. please be mindful of your own choices and actions ♡

PILE 1

Hello beautiful/handsome,

I saw you in the party, where everyone was busy with themselves, with their own groups. And you, you were sitting alone, pouring your own drink. You looked very beautiful to me. Just like a queen/king. Your straightforwardness and dominant behavior, is what I love the most. I crave you, dear. Oh. I can literally fight to win you. You are just like a prize. You have your priorities clear. Even if it's a run and chase, I'll follow you everywhere till my heart stops and i die.

You are very career oriented, you don't bs unnecessarily. I love your perception of life. I love how you stand up for yourself, even if you're alone. You are just like a Queen to me. You seem very distant, as if you're lost in your dreams. You have that dreamy side of yours too? I don't know. I just observe you from afar. You give me such soothing vibes, I just love being around you.

You make me forget my miseries. I love how you don't do wrong to anyone. You are very compassionate and loving. You can give love to even non living objects. You're so full of love. That makes me wanna love you, even more. Sweetheart. I love you. I want to pursue you, i want to make you mine. Do you think the same? Do you love me just the way I love you? I'm waiting for your answer.

Yours faithfully,

Love.

PILE 2

I don't have the right words to truly express what I feel. I'm not in a good place right now. It feels as if everyone has given up on me. I'm sorry if I'm I'm making you uncomfortable but certain situations are out of my hands. I feel left out in the cold. I have the responsibility of my family on my shoulders. I'm trying to make fast changes. I'm trying to do everything on my own.

I'm very repressive of my emotions. I was not taught how to deal with them. Sometimes I try to run away from life. But then I get reminded of you. I look at the night's sky, full of stars and I wonder maybe you are like a star too. Lightening the dark and cold world with compassion and warmth. You give me true strength. And I'm forever grateful for your presence in my life. I'm holding onto a lot of things right now. I know i should let everything free, even myself. It's okay to make mistakes, right?

After every storm, there is a deep silence. Where everything remains silent, destroyed and out of control. No matter what life throws at me, I'll come back to you with ten times more strength, power & especially love and respect for you. It's life after all, right? Everything comes and goes. Maybe these times will pass? But I'll love you more with each passing moment for sure.

Yours Only Forever

💗

PILE 3

I have too much of love and wealth. And that too much is being sucked off by others. I don't know what to do. Money can't buy love, sweetheart. I'm in a toxic relationship. They are taking away my everything. Literally everything.

I don't remember the last time I laughed. The money I earned through hard work, the morals and kindness my family taught me, everything is in vain. Everything is slowly leaving my body. I feel empty from inside. This person is taking away it all.

But I'm working hard, more hard, harder than even. So that I can provide you a better lifestyle. I can't expect anything from anyone. I have to do it all alone. Please remember me in your prayers. I'm afraid to let go. Everything is being taken away from me. I don't know what to do, I'm confused. I'm not sure which road to take. I believe the universe will guide me where I'm supposed to be, near you. I'm depressed nowadays. Very hopeless.

But I'm doing whatever i can do right now. I'm unable to even sleep at night. They lied to me. They deceived me. They were my life partner, but there was nothing "life-like" with them. It was just a relationship built on money. And you know how these type of things end. There is no emotion left in me. I'm blank. I don't know. They left me in the middle of the road.

PILE 4

Hello pretty soul ♡

You know what? I see you every where. Whenever I go, wherever I go. I see you, i get reminded of you, by the flowers, the clovers, the river, the clouds and even the sun! You are a beautiful and positive person! You are such a great fighter! Whatever obstacles comes between our happiness, you remove it all. I get so happy and optimistic near you, my love. I'll fight with literally anyone for you, just for you.

You bring absolute calmness and peace into my chaotic life. You are a sweet breeze flowing softly over my cheeks on a warm, sunny day making me blush. I want to take care of you and love you for eternity. I want to offer you all the love that I have inside me, just for you babygirl/boy. I want to experience new things with you everyday. You make my life feel lively. ✨️

Dear, sometimes I too get lost in my past, that was not, unfortunately that happy for sure. I got lied to, i was betrayed by someone I called mine. I can't sleep properly due to this. I get nightmares and I get so f*king scared. I feel anxious and uncomfortable. But the good news is! I'm forgetting it day by day. Just a little progress makes it a whole lot of progress. I don't want to remember all these with you. I'm working hard, I'm moving forward. And i hope you're too <3

By,

Your one and only . ❤️

[uyuforu]

Astro Observations: Lunar Return Chart IV

Ugh I was so excited to make this post!! I personally love to make observations on Lunar Return because it's very accurate and very interesting! Also I feel like it deserves more attention so I love to make observations at least once a month on it. I hope you can love more Lunar Return Charts! I'm gonna take mine of the previous month but also people around me and share experiences that could have been seen :) Enjoy!

All pictures were found on Pinterest

Other posts you could like:

જ⁀➴ Derivative Astro: Future Spouse in Natal Chart

જ⁀➴ Astro Observations VII

જ⁀➴ Lunar Return Chart II

BOOKING OPEN

email adress: tarotjunoboda@gmail.com

Soft To You presentation and Q&A ᡣ𐭩 rules ᡣ𐭩 private readings reviews

astrology menu ᡣ𐭩 tarot menu ᡣ𐭩 special astrology & tarot readings

How to make a LRC?

✮⋆˙ Go on Astro.com

✮⋆˙ Free Horoscopes > Horoscope Drawings & Data > Extended Chart Selection

✮⋆˙ Chart Type: Scroll to "Lunar Return Chart"

✮⋆˙ Start Date: I suggest to start with 1st of the month and you'll see the date written when your LRC starts on your chart.

╰┈➤ For ex: For April, mine starts on April 12th 2024 and the next date if May 5th 2024 for my May LRC. So be careful about the dates!

✮⋆˙ Don't forget to add additional objects if you want to, and you are done!

‧₊˚✩彡 Mars conjunct Uranus in 4H can mean a lot of movement will happen at home. You could receive family members suddenly at home, or just have a lot of unexpected good things happening there.

‧₊˚✩彡 4H Ruler in 6H means you could have a very busy life at home this month.

‧₊˚✩彡 Jupiter in 4H is a sign of moving, but also traveling.

‧₊˚✩彡 7H Ruler in 6H can mean finding a good routine with your partner, it can also means nothing will "happen" in your relationship this month, it will be steady, and it will just be a chill month in general.

‧₊˚✩彡 Saturn conjunct Neptune 2H can mean you'll not spend much this month because you don't actually want anything, or need anything.

‧₊˚✩彡 6H Ruler in 8H or 12H is an indicator of getting sick.

‧₊˚✩彡 While 6H Ruler in 8H can just be a random sickness, 6H Ruler in 12H can be more sometimes, like going to the hospital.

‧₊˚✩彡 Mars conjunct Uranus in 12H can be a sign of getting yourself hurt suddenly this month.

‧₊˚✩彡 7H Ruler in 12H can be a sign of breaking up but also about often being mad to your partner.

‧₊˚✩彡 Scorpio 6H can also be a sign of getting sick! And more if the ruler falls in 8H or 12H.

‧₊˚✩彡 Saturn 10H is a sign of having some obstacles in your career. Some things will happen that will prevent you from working normally. Ruler explains the reason!

‧₊˚✩彡 Moon 12H can be a sign of having prophetic dreams this month.

‧₊˚✩彡 Moon conjunct Jupiter 12H can be a sign of your spirit guides speaking to you more through dreams this month. But it can also be that your dreams will be very connected to your spiritual side this month.

‧₊˚✩彡 I had Groom conjunct Moon 12H this month and I have often made dreams of my FS speaking to me through dreams, and he was also often "putting me back to sleep" to talk to me more.

‧₊˚✩彡 Cancer 2H can be a sign your family giving you money this month!

‧₊˚✩彡 Mars 7H can be a sign of wanting a relationship this month, or you'll have more desire to search for a partner.

‧₊˚✩彡 Moon conjunct Chiron 6H can mean you'll feel busy and you won't like it or find it bothering.

‧₊˚✩彡 Pluto 4H can be a sign of having a fresh start with a family member, or meeting a new family member.

‧₊˚✩彡 Stellium 12H is a sign of sleeping more this month!

‧₊˚✩彡 7H Ruler in 7H is a sign of being more romantic this month, not only for you but also other people. You could see love everywhere.

‧₊˚✩彡 Groom conjunct Mars 12H can also be a sign of your spouse/ FS making love to you through dreams ;-;

‧₊˚✩彡 4H Ruler in 8H can mean discovering secrets about a family member or thanks to a family member.

‧₊˚✩彡 Jupiter 8H can mean learning more about esoteric matters.

‧₊˚✩彡 Jupiter conjunct Uranus 8H can mean having a transformation on the spiritual side!

‧₊˚✩彡 10H Ruler in 9H can be a sign of taking a break or taking vacations from your career.

‧₊˚✩彡 A Stellium in 5H or 7H can be a sign of falling in love or feeling very in love with someone.

‧₊˚✩彡 Neptune 7H can mean having a lot of illusions about your love life, or about your partner.

‧₊˚✩彡 But! Neptune 7H can also mean feeling on cloud 9 about your love life or your partner.

‧₊˚✩彡 Stellium 9H is a sign of traveling but also about teaching or learning!

‧₊˚✩彡 Pluto 5H can be a sign of having a new relationship, meeting someone new or starting new with someone.

‧₊˚✩彡 3H Ruler in 5H can mean flirting this month, or talking with someone you are interested in or have a crush in.

‧₊˚✩彡 7H Ruler in 8H can mean being more intimate with your partner but it can also be a sign of having a secret relationship, or just having a relationship not a lot of people know about.

‧₊˚✩彡 7H Ruler in 8H can also be a sign of having a relationship that is transforming.

‧₊˚✩彡 7H Ruler in 3H conjunct Chiron can mean you'll discuss painful subject with your partner.

‧₊˚✩彡 8H Ruler in 7H can be a sign of having a secret crush or being secretly in love with someone. You could also hide your feelings to your partner.

‧₊˚✩彡 Uranus 5H is a sign of a change happening in your relationships, but if Ruler is in 8H, you can reveal secrets or someone can reveal secrets to you and it can be the cause of the change.

‧₊˚✩彡 11H with Pluto as a ruler can mean you'll change your social medias' presence, you could delete social medias or just not use it for the same reasons.

‧₊˚✩彡 11H Ruler in 1H can mean you'll present yourself differently on social medias. You'll also probably start a new account.

‧₊˚✩彡 10H Ruler in 1H can mean your reputation changing you, or your wanting to change your reputation. If it's Pluto, then you'll totally want to transform your reputation.

‧₊˚✩彡 Jupiter conjunct DSC can be a sign of entering in a relationship.

Thank you for reading!

back to index ; ask ; request ; rules

[melminli]

My Girl

pairing: maki zen'in x fem. reader

summery - being in love with your best friend can be difficult sometimes, maybe even more when you're both girls.

word count: 1.8k

contains: wlw, grumpy black cat x happy golden retriever trope, fluff, angst, internalized homophobia, comfort, modern au

She had been an outsider since the day she was born. Someone who didn't belong, someone who didn't conform to the norm. Her family made her feel that way since the day she was born, and so she grew up in a pretty pessimistic world. She got used to her situation. Well, she kinda had to. It wasn't a hard pill to swallow since she didn't know any different and was used to dealing with the situation. Her parents might rather have one strong boy than two weak girls, and she might rather have other parents. Guess not everyone can have what they want.

Maki watched you with a longing look while you were fooling around with inumaki at some store window a little further away. You smiled as you excitedly pointed your finger at various objects and pulled the arm of the boy next to you to draw his attention abruptly to something else every now and then.

After a while, she turned her eyes away from you in shame, having been watching your figure a little too closely and paying a little too much attention to your various facial expressions.

You were a new reason for Maki to feel like an outsider in this world, and this time, it scared her a little because it wasn't the situation she was used to. If she knew that I think about her like that, it would certainly make her sad. She thought to herself and then sighed. I should just not think about her, maybe not think at all.

"They spend a lot of time in front of that store, I'm afraid we won't be able to get them out once they go in." Yuuta laughed next to her while scratching his head a little worriedly. His eyes then wandered to the sign again. "I didn't realize those two were so into this sanrio stuff."

Maki looked at him out of the corner of her eye before adjusting her glasses. "She's liked sweet stuff ever since I've known her, whether it's stuffed animals or food. Inumaki says it's not really his thing, and he just doesn't mind going along with her, but I think he secretly likes all that stuff, too."

Yeah, from Yuuta's observations, that explanation seemed accurate. "That stuff doesn't really seem to be your thing, though, and yet you didn't object when she said she wanted to visit this store. If it's one of us who asks you to hang out, you're never in the mood." He playfully referred to himself and the other boys.

She shrugged her shoulders uninterestedly. "That's because I don't like you guys. Don't want to waste my time." Maki said without hesitation and sent an arrow into Yuuta's heart. "Although well, I guess you're not entirely wrong. Sweet stuff isn't really my thing. But that's okay, I don't mind. We sometimes do things I like as well."

Yuuta recovered and raised an eyebrow with interest. "Yeah? Like what?"

The time a few weeks ago were you two were at the movies together came to her mind. "We watched a horror movie a while ago." She said, grinning slightly at the memory.

The boy looked a little irritated. He knew that you were quite the scaredy cat, especially when it came to jumpscares. "Really? That doesn't sound like her."

Maki shrugged her shoulders. "Yeah, I was surprised too when she offered to go with me after mentioning that I wanted to see it." She admitted. "It was kind of cute though, she hardly dared to take her hands off her face. I don't know what made her do that to herself. Really can't figure out what's going on in her head sometimes."

Yuuta had to stop himself from sighing. It's so obvious, though. "Yeah, it really is a great mystery....I also want to emphasize again that I think it's really mean of you how you prefer her to all of us." The boy pouted slightly. I mean, I understand why, but she still doesn't have to say it like that.

"It's different with her." She said directly as her eyes turned back to your figure, who finally decided to storm into the store and waved excitedly to her to signal it. "...she's my best friend."

The black-haired boy looked somewhat doubtful at his friend, who made her way over to you. "...sure." He said with narrowed eyes and followed her. Me when I'm lying.

Green eyes looked down at the small plush toy pendant in her hand and stroked her finger through the fabric. What was the name of that thing again...was it Kuromi? Maki asked herself inwardly, not knowing exactly what kind of animal it was supposed to represent as she inspected it from different angles. It doesn't matter, you bought it for her the other day from this store you went to. She didn't remember what yours was called, but you had the pink version or whatever.

"Hey Maki, are you ready to go? Sorry if you had to wait a while, Jun was holding me up a bit. I mean, I swear to god she's really cute but also so pushy sometimes." You sighed and set off as she got up from her seat on the bench. It had become routine for the two of you to go to the café near the school building every Tuesday since you both got out early and liked to go for drinks together.

"That's all right. You always write me a hundred messages if you're being really late." She teased you and knew that it always secretly bothered you that you were always runnung somewhat late since you just didn't really have a good sense of time.

You avoided her gaze. "I'll pretend I didn't hear that." You just replied and stopped on the sidewalk when you both reached the red light.

Maki didn't even try to stifle her grin. "So, which one was Jun again?" She asked you because she couldn't always put a name to the stories you told her.

"She's the one who always asks me what kind of guys I like so she can link me to one of her friends." You said a little annoyed at the memory and walked across the intersection as the light changed to green. "I don't know what her problem is, to be honest, like how about just someone who's halfway a decent person, huh? From what she told me about her boyfriend, I doubt she knows anyone like that."

Maki just looked to the side a little uncomfortably at the subject. I shouldn't have asked, ugh. She didn't like being reminded of how you could probably have something like a boyfriend someday. Even though you hated men and were always ranting about them, it somehow seemed like that in the end, the pretty girls with a sweet personality like you always ended up with some weird asshole.

She tried to shake the thought out of her mind as she held the door open for you. No, not even over my dead body.

That sounded like a nightmare. She would never let something like that happen. Maki continued to be a little lost in thought as you ordered for the two of you (a sweet iced coffee and a hot black coffe with sugar), and when a good seat became available, you just told her to sit there quickly while you waited for the drinks.

"Here you go." You said and sat down in front of her after placing the two cups on the table. As you took a sip of your sweet coffee, you noticed something unusual. "Huh? Look." You said, pointing to your cup. "Someone has written down their number."

Both of your eyes turned to the counter where a barista guy waved charmingly at you. "...hey, do you think he's attractive?" You asked playfully after overcoming your confusion.

Maki turned her slightly annoyed gaze to you. "No, not really." She answered you curtly and couldn't help but think of more scenarios in her head. First, that girl from your class who wanted to set you up with some guy, now some guy who came up to you out of nowhere.

She didn't want to think about it - she never wanted to, which is why she always blocked it out. You rarely talked to her about your love life, mainly because no one really interested you, and that was enough for Maki not to worry about...this stuff. But if others were interested in you like today...who's to say you wouldn't want to try it out at some point?

"Really? He's kinda hot, though." You replied, slightly surprised, as you played with your straw. "What's your type, then?"

"I like them more cute." She replied bluntly.

You blinked and looked around as if you were casually asking. "Cute? Like cute guys?"

This time, she didn't hesitate. Not like all the other times, because even if Maki might have many regrets in her life, she didn't want to put seeing you with some boy on that list. "No, more like cute girls."

It might be that the whole world would reject her for it, and she would forever remain an outsider, but maybe that didn't even matter. As long as she felt like she belonged by your side, the world and whoever else could reject her as much as they wanted, because how happy could such a world really make her?

Maki couldn't control everything, even if she might have liked it that way sometimes, but maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. Yes, this isn't too bad. That's what she thought when she felt her heart warm up by just looking at you.

Maybe I can have a little control, though. Over this. Maki took your hand in hers as a slight blush spread across her cheeks the moment your eyes met. " - like you. I like cute girls like you."

[moongothic]

So a few weeks ago I ran into this, old, old Crocodile meta post from 2015, the OP of which hasn't been active on Tumbr (at least on that account) since 2018. And this post (along with some of the OP's other posts) has been living in my head rent free since then.

There was just something there about seeing these old meta posts, completely detached from the current state of the story, the fandom and the Crocodad Propaganda... It just made for a truly refreshing read, but they also had such great observations about Crocodile I hadn't even thought about or noticed*, and somewhat most importantly... validating my own feelings/observations about things I've been kind of afraid to vocalize myself lest I apper completely delulu. Like I dunno I do worry sometimes if I'm just reading into things too much just to make massive reaches to get The Reading of the character that happens to support the Crocodad theory specifically, instead of trying to get a more objective reading instead. So seeing someone else make either those exact same or similar observations nearly 10 years before I did is so validating, and really just made me want to discuss some of those things.

*(Like this whole post about how "DON!" is often used to add emphasis and show the true beliefs of characters, and how Crocodile doesn't really say things with a DON!, almost like his heart isn't in most of the things he does or says. I dunno it was such a good read)

Sidenote: I do want to quickly comment that I don't agree with the OP on some of their readings about stuff, and more importantly, due to the age of the both the original posts and the OP not being active anymore, I didn't want to, like... Treat them as if they just posted it recently and interact with the posts as such. (I dunno, when people go digging through my decade old main blog and start reblogging shit I posted in like 2014 it just. I dunno, it's just kind of uncomfortable. Like you're allowed to browse my past but I wished people let my ancient cringe stay in the past. But that's just me) Like for example I feel like OP has a fundamental misunderstanding what being "trans" really even means (thus I don't agree with their take on trans Croc), but again, OP's take is old and so I don't want to hold it against them. They could have grown since then and come to better understand what being trans means, and regardless of that they don't have to buy into the theory either. And I absolutely do not want anyone to start trying to pester them about it or anything (again, they posted these things nearly 10 years ago), regardless of if they're still active or not. But yeah, that's why this is a whole separate post rather than a reblog with commentary.

So OP in their post speculated how in this moment (chap 206), based on the face he makes and the serious look he gives to Luffy, Crocodile seems to find the idea of someone being willing to die for someone else's sake absolutely incomprehensible, as if he's trying to wrap his head around the mere concept. That, or he used to know what it was like to hold someone/something that dear to you, but has long forgotten what it was like

Rereading this arc a while back I couldn't help but to take notice of this panel too and that unusual, somber(?) look on Crocodile's face. But because I'm a Crocodad Truther, of course I couldn't help but to feel that this was a face of recognition, of Crocodile understanding Luffy exactly in this moment, that willingness to do anything for a loved one. Especially because I have been speculating Crocodile might've been doing all of this with the goal of nuking the World Government out of orbit to protect his long lost baby boy (it's just that he simply finds Luffy's insistence on protecting this random ass princess from a random ass country he has zero ties to ridiculous, as opposed to like, doing all of this to protect immidiate, close family)

So again, despite the different reading it is validating as hell to see someone else think this panel in particular was odd. But the more I thought about it, I did kind of start leaning towards OP's reading. Now this one was originally pointed out by opbackgrounds, how in this scene (chapter 196) while Crocodile is meant to be laughing and mocking the royal guard for "throwing their lives away" to protect Cobra, he isn't actually smiling. We don't even get to see his full face with his eyes blacked out, so we don't get to see Crocodile's true feelings in this scene

And that does kind of reframe what he says in the second panel. For a long time I wondered if the implication was that Crocodile does actually value people's lives more than he lets on (especially with his seeming willingness to blow up a million people in a violent, orchestraded coup), just having a "small sacrifice for the greater good" kinda outlook (as we know, casualties can't be avoided in war, Croco and Luffy both agree on that) (where as I would IMAGINE Dragon having a more "no sacrifices, we have to save as many people as possible" kinda principle)

But now, looking at these two moments together, and knowing Crocodile has trust issues for unknown reasons, there is also that option that, perhaps... No one has ever shown that kind of loyalty towards him, a willingness to follow him to the grave or support him, to stay by his side? And if so, maybe, in these two scenes, Crocodile does recognize that kind of deep loyalty and trust and love, and has to cope with the fact that he has and may never experience it himself, that he's doomed to be alone, surrounded only by people who "respect him" out of fear (something that could be extra painful while knowing someone had just recently betrayed him by leaking his info to ruin his plans/after figuring out it was Robin, his very literal partner in crime. Like talk about rubbing salt into a wound).

And y'know, that is an extremely sad reading and I feel so bad for my poor little meow meow (that man needs a hug so bad), but also that doesn't really add to pushing The Crocodad Agenda, which is very unfortunate. Especially because I feel like between the two readings, Crocodile recognizing loyalty no one will ever show him (and being hurt by the fact) feels like a more comprehensive and simple reading, than if one is about him showing he doesn't fully believe in what he's doing is right and the other about him relating to Luffy on a deeper level.

But then, as OP pointed out in their post, for the entirety of page 2 of Chapter 207 while Luffy is keeling over from the poison finally kicking in, Crocodile looks like he's fully letting down his walls to express genuine relief, as if the those beliefs Croc had carried and convinced himself were true were just confirmed

What're his beliefs again? That trust in others is worthless, and you can not afford to have ideals if you're weak, great strenght being the only thing that allows you, if not straight up justifies you, in doing whatever you please? Now, maybe it's just me, but if Crocodile was showing relief here over his belief that trusting others is worthless after being reminded time and time again of the love and loyalty the Strawhats have for each other and the Alabastan kingdom has for everyone in it (etc)... I dunno, I feel like that would be kind of weak, if that's where Crocodile's internalized beliefs were wavering. But if Crocodile's whole Utopia-plan had been about destroying the WG to protect his baby boy (and release the whole world from the WG's oppressive rule while he's at it) at whatever cost, while he deep inside knew what he was doing was fucked up beyond belief... Yeah, Crocodile trying to convince himself what he was doing was "justified" would make sense. Him having his beliefs potentially even waver a little bit through out this whole ordeal would make sense. Crocodile in this moment experiencing relief that what he had told himself was the righteous would make sense.

Everybody remember's Doflamingo's speech from Marineford, about how history is written by the victors and its them who decide what is right and what is wrong- the winner becomes "justice" itself. Vegapunk kind of called back to this concept during his broadcast too, and yeah, Crocodile did kind of introduce us to it back in Alabasta. If he had won, he would have been "justified" in what he had done, because it'd be him who'd be deciding what's right and what's wrong.

Now I don't really have anything else to add to that post in particular (though I absolutely love the reading on the Crocodile vs Robin part and now that I've read it I can't unsee nor disagree with it), but OP did make a separate post speculating about some of design decisions Oda made regarding Crocodile, starting with discussing the logo for Baroque Works. And they pointed this out

Bro wrote this in 2015, they have no idea, oh my god, dude had no clue whatsoever

So quickly looking that one up and yeah, wings have sometimes been used to represent the sun (most commonly with the sun, as a winged sun?) and yeah, that actually has a lot of meaning in the current state of the series re: God of Liberation the Sun God Nika. But what's more is that this is actually the SECOND time we're actually finding a way to link Crocodile to sun-symbolism, the other being Crocodile being a reference to the Egyptian god Sobek (protector god, god of military, go to Wikipedia), who has an alternative form (/fusion with Ra) called Sobek-Ra, where he is a sun god. And what was Crocodile trying to do in Alabasta if not falsely "liberate" the country from its original rule. Also worth noting is that seemingly the winged sun was most commonly used in Egyptian iconography, so if Oda ever did research Egyptian mythology for inspiration in Alabasta (which, considdering the sheer amount of Stuff in the story as a whole is more than likely), then it is very possible he could have read about the winged sun and used it intentionally.

But what I do find interesting is that, yeah, wings kinda are a symbol one would considder "heroic" or related to "freedom". And, as I have been going on and on about, if Crocodile's ultimate goal in creating his funny little "utopia" was to overthrow the World Government and "free" the whole world of their rule. Like. That really lines up with the whole symbolism with the sun and the liberation and the freedom and shit, like. Why does it line up so neatly good dear god

I dunno how to end this post, these were just a few little things that I had been thinking about after coming across OP's blog and, yeah, just wanted to discuss them.

Again, OP hasn't been active for years, but if they did suddenly come back please don't bother them or god forbid harrass them/try to get them to change their mind about trans Croco. Just don't start shit, please.

End of post byeeeeeeee

[neuroticbookworm]

Love in the Big City Part 2: Go Yeong and Umma

I was chased around, threatened, bullied and emotionally manipulated for months to write this piece, so @lurkingshan, this one's for you. *please release my family*

When I was reading the book, in Part 1, I remember being frustrated with Young as a narrator because of how standoffish he seemed with his descriptions of the people in his life (except Jaehee – Mi Ae in the show). I wanted to understand the emotional distance I felt in his words. And I got my answer in Part 2, where the relationship with his Umma was laid bare for us to see. The structure of this section was so smart, for it established the roots of his behavior in his childhood with Umma, and linked it to how it shaped the relationship he currently had with Hyung. Seeing it come to life on screen in the episodes this week was a treat to watch.

It becomes evident that Go Yeong’s relationship with his Umma is complicated as soon as we see them interact on screen. She is steadfastly religious, someone who believes that miracles can cure things that humans sometimes deem incurable, like cancer. We could easily infer from what we’ve seen of Go Yeong so far that she would not approve of his life.

Before I get into how her opinions and actions affect and influence Go Yeong, I wanna fully break down some of the objective facts we know about her:

She divorced her husband after he stepped out of their marriage and didn’t even have the courage to tell her about his infidelity

She is a single mother

She is an entrepreneur (in fact, we see her working from her bed in the hospital in multiple scenes)

She is religious and believes in the power of God

She is proud of her son

She loves her son

The last two points come with the biggest asterisks, because if she loves and feels pride for her son, how could she make him feel so alone? And now I shall try to explore this woman’s psyche to the best of my abilities, with a little bit of help from my personal experiences and therapy sessions I’ve paid money for over the years.

When we try to picture a homophobic parent, the image that our brain usually conjures up is often one-dimensional. (Note: This is NOT AN EXCUSE. I’m not trying to justify her actions. I am simply trying to understand why she did the things she did, by placing the context of the events of her life around them.) It is easier to process our emotions re: bad parents who hurt their children when we view their actions as simple. “They could’ve chosen not to do it and yet they did, so I hate them” is the conclusion that is the easiest to arrive at. That doesn’t make it untrue, but oftentimes, it is not the whole truth. Life is rarely, if ever, that simple, and our parents can truly love us while also rejecting fundamental parts of who we are, and never reconcile the two.

We see in the show the circumstances under which Yeom Eun Suk (Umma) finds out about her husband’s affair. She and little Go Yeong observe him from the sidelines, hidden, and see him smile like he had never done in all the time he had spent with them. We see Eun Suk feeling crushed by the implication that whatever love and happiness she thought she had had in her life with her husband was all potentially a farce. The fact that she chose to separate from him implies a couple of things: 1. She had strength and resourcefulness to provide for her son as a single mother in a restrictive patriarchal society like South Korea, and 2. She understood that staying in the unhappy marriage would only make her bitter and would affect her son more negatively than him growing up with a single parent.

She was brave enough to make those choices, and yet was still bound by her sense of propriety molded by society, and her faith. I’ve had a dynamic relationship with faith throughout my life, but I understood pretty quickly that questioning one’s faith is a particularly painful experience. Faith is supposed to be the solace one could turn to during trying times. When one is forced by circumstance to question their faith, it leaves them unmoored on the inside and further isolated on the outside. Eun Suk was already isolated to a certain degree by her divorce and her single motherhood. From what we learned in the book, there’s a history of cancer diagnoses in her family, so I would posit that she had been in Go Yeong’s shoes before, caring for her terminally ill parents in the past. Which is additional trauma from caregiving in her young adulthood that would’ve shaped her life. So I understand Eun Suk not questioning her faith when it was shaken.

She rebuilt her life and community by pursuing her faith—attending church, making friends who shared those values, and idolizing the Christian heteronormative lifestyle even after it failed her. She followed the rules dictated by her faith and community with utmost devotion, including building an entire business around heteronormative romance, in part because she had already transgressed by breaking up her own family and needed to prove she was not bucking that ideal or rejecting the church’s teachings with her choices. We see her take care of her appearance over and over when she is in the hospital after her first diagnosis and surgery, and it is yet another sign of her conformity and dedication to presenting a certain picture of her life. I understand why she would see her teenage son kissing a boy as a blemish on “a life deemed beautiful by God” and panic. I understand why she would think a psychiatric facility would help her son, and that it was her duty to try. (Note: once again, I am not justifying her actions, I am trying to understand them. Conversion therapy is deplorable and my heart goes out to everyone who has been subjected to it, including Go Yeong.) Eun Suk’s faith saved her by giving her purpose and community after her husband’s betrayal, but it also told her that her son, in his queerness, is fundamentally flawed. And like most people in this world, she chose not to rethink her entire life, and instead chose to believe that it is her duty to save her son from homosexuality and guide him to righteousness via the same path that saved her own life, ultimately traumatizing him. Hello, intergenerational trauma, my old friend!

@lurkingshan has already discussed the kdrama-fication of Part 2, with the increased intensity of Go Yeong’s romance with Hyung/Yeong Su. Expanding on that, I think the show’s depiction of Go Yeong’s relationship with his Umma rounded out the sharp edges of Young’s cynical tone from the book. We see her enjoy spending time with him. We see her joke around with him. We see her read her child with uncanny precision that mothers seem to have when she asked him “Why are you sulking like a child?”, when he was, in fact, sulking like a child. We see her observe and deduce that her son is probably seeing someone, and that someone is likely a man. Which then leads to her asking “Must I meet them?” when Go Yeong suggests a meeting with Yeong Su in the park. She runs from direct confrontation of her son’s sexuality, and yet diligently copies Bible verses, hoping for a miracle.

Eun Suk sees her son’s queerness as her own failure, and Go Yeong, in turn, sees his righteous anger towards his Umma, as his. She is so proud of him that she saves newspaper clippings of his achievements, but she is also ashamed that she couldn’t “save” him. She loves him within the confines of her faith. It’s not enough for Go Yeong, but it’s the best she can do; their relationship remains at an impossible impasse.

Yeong Su’s presence in this section is interesting because in addition to his primary role of serving as the broody, tortured creative who swept Go Yeong up in a whirlwind romance, he also serves as a parallel to Umma’s traits. When Yeong Su exclaims that “someone like [Go Yeong] couldn’t even imagine [his struggles]”, it rang eerily close to Umma telling her son “Don’t try too hard. Everyone must go sometimes”. The expression of disdain is the same, but in Yeong Su it reads hollow, as a pretentious assumption, while with Umma it registers as tired disappointment that Go Yeong would’ve surely felt as heavy as a boulder.

After finishing the book, I found myself going back to a particular paragraph:

...[I] was old enough to know that my mother did not exist solely to hinder my existence but was a person in her own right who had fought hard making her way through life. She just happened to be unlucky. In other words, the fact that our relationship had been so terrible was as natural as cancer or fungus or the rotation of our planet or sunspots. I knew this, but the feeling that she was the source of all my problems kept nagging at me. I kicked myself for thinking this about a dying person, someone who was only skin and bones at this point, but the thought refused to leave my mind.

It took me a long time to reach the acceptance Sang Young Park has put in words here. The fact that my trauma is an unfortunate byproduct of the life my parents had lived, and was not premeditated or fuelled by hate, was a hard and unfair pill to swallow. I want to grab Go Yeong and tell him that it is okay if he can’t ever forgive his Umma. Time will wash over his hurt and let him love her, even without the apology he deserves from his Umma. And I hope that, one day, he can learn to love the people in his life differently than the love he received from his mother.

[lilybecca1]

My analysis on Midoriya and why I think he has undiagnosed BPD

Throughout Izuku's childhood, he was always seen as weird, off-putting, an outsider to social norms. Being left out, being seen as "different" is very common amongst people, especially kids, with undiagnosed disorders. So let's jump straight into it. What is BPD and how does it develop? (Contains manga spoilers)

Here are a few summaries amongst many that I have found (also, I'm not a psychologist or a healthcare professional, these are all just based on my own observations):

BPD, short for Borderline Personality Disorder, is a severe mental health condition characterized by a pervasive and challenging pattern of symptoms including emotional dysregulation, unstable self-identity, fear of abandonment, intense and unstable interpersonal relationships, impulsivity, and self-harming behaviors.

People with borderline personality disorder (BPD) experience extreme emotions. Once a powerful emotion is triggered, it is very hard for them to calm down. Because of this, they often have unstable relationships. They also engage in self-destructive behavior.

Researchers think that BPD is caused by a combination of factors, including:

Stressful or traumatic life events (for example, emotional abuse, neglect, often having felt afraid, upset, unsupported or invalidated),

And genetic factors.

Symptoms may include:

A strong fear of abandonment. This includes going to extreme measures so you're not separated or rejected, even if these fears are made up.

A pattern of unstable, intense relationships, such as believing someone is perfect one moment and then suddenly believing the person doesn't care enough or is cruel.

Quick changes in how you see yourself. This includes shifting goals and values, as well as seeing yourself as bad or as if you don't exist.

Periods of stress-related paranoia and loss of contact with reality.

Self-injury

Wide mood swings that last from a few hours to a few days. These mood swings can include periods of being very happy, irritable or anxious, or feeling shame.

Ongoing feelings of emptiness.

Inappropriate, strong anger, such as losing your temper often, being sarcastic or bitter, or physically fighting.

Now, let's get into it.

BPD, like all disorders, isn't the same for every person. Symptoms and the intensity of these symptoms can vary. It can make some people's life and relationships really difficult, but others can go on for years undiagnosed living a completely happy life without even knowing there's anything wrong. Midoriya's case, in my opinion, is the latter. These symptoms don't surface that obviously in him, but I believe, in different circumstances (queue those Villain Deku and traumatized Deku fics) these symptoms and behaviours could actually turn into much bigger problems and affect his life in a much more impactful way. But, in any case, let's analyze these symptoms and how they may have surfaced in him throughout the manga.

Of course, I decided to turn to TikTok as well and watch some actual explanations and experiences from people who actually have been diagnosed with this disorder in order to understand BPD on a more subjective level, not just objective. And what I have found turned out to be very interesting.

People with BPD often develop a very emotionally attached connection with one specific person in their life, which is their "Favorite person". This person can be anything including a friend, family, therapist, partner, etc. This is a person that someone with BPD can become dependent on. They often view them as a person who's perfect and can do nothing wrong. They might overshare, and expect availability from that person at all times. The dependence on this person goes beyond just adoration, because they are idolizing them to the point where it's all consuming. A person with BPD can switch from absolute adoration one moment to absolute hate the next. They might have trouble with boundaries, sometimes even having zero boundaries when it comes to that person. Their life constantly revolves around that person and the favorite person's identity becomes their own, and they can feel literal physical pain when losing that person. You see where I'm getting at?

I believe Midoriya has developed this dependency and attachment towards one particular person, can you guess who?

Yep, Bakugo Katsuki

Midoriya views Kacchan as perfect, as the embodiment of the image of victory. It's like he blindly ignores Katsuki's bad traits and the things he has done to him, and he idealizes him to the point that Katsuki became his symbol of victory. So much so that he himself has absorbed this identity that he built around Katsuki, for example during battles, which we see during the moments he clearly imitates Bakugo and mirrors him. Izuku "ILoveKacchan'sPersonalSpace" Midoriya basically has zero boundaries when it comes to Katsuki, I mean y'all let's not forget he basically stalked him and even knows what body part Katsuki washes first in the shower. Not to mention he gives zero fucks about boundaries when he butts into Bakugo's emotions even though Bakugo has clearly tried setting boundaries for almost their whole time knowing each other. Deku has also overshared with Katsuki(and only Katsuki), when he told him about OFA even though it was literally meant to be the one secret that he should have kept to himself. His life has always revolved around Bakugo to the point he cannot keep himself away from him.

And talk about experiencing physical pain when losing the favorite person...remember when Bakugo was kidnapped? Yeah, remember that kinda cringe and second hand embarrassing, absolutely animalistic scream that Midoriya let out? Yeah, well..... And then when he actually lost Katsuki, when he saw his dead body. Izuku lost control of his quirks in the middle of a freaking battle, LITERALLY started choking on Blackwhip and screaming in pain, and Blackwhip turned into a heart pierced by three swords that symbolizes intense and extreme physical and emotional pain. Need I say more? No.

And if you think Midoriya isn't capable of extreme hate too, ahhahaha, you're wrong. He can fr switch from absolutely adoring his Kacchan to planning how he's gonna rip off his legs in his diary. Yeah, I haven't forgotten about that one, Izuku.

So, it's very clear that Bakugo is Midoriya's FP and that he has developed this unhealthy, borderline toxic dependency towards him. But let's break down his character even further.

People with BPD tend to engage in self-harming and dangerous activities impulsively, diving in without thinking, in order to feel something. Well, we can tick that one too. Problem child number 1 is known to do and jump into things impulsively without thinking, even if it causes self-injury. In fact, he sometimes engages these self-destructive behaviours on purpose, like all those times when he broke his own bones over and over again. All this just so he can make Todoroki use his right side. Seriously, Deku. Yes, they are training to be heroes, but noone in the class is as reckless and impulsive as Izuku.

Which actually brings me to my next point, which is people with BPD objectifying themselves for validation, going insane lengths just to prove their own self-worth, never having a clear sense of self and seeing themselves as bad or as if they don't exist. I have talked about this in a previous theory of mine too, which you can read here. Midoriya Izuku does not have a clear sense of self. He mirrors others around him, behaving according to the mood and expectations of others. He has no sense of self, because he has built his identity around wanting to be a hero. To him, he is only worth something if he reaches that goal, that dream. Meaning he has no self worth or identity unless he does as he is expected to do, aka be a hero and put everyone else before himself, sacrificing his own needs, and in worse cases his own well-being. He basically objectifies his own self and turns himself into a simple puppet, a Deku, an empty vessel that can hold OFA and his dream of being a hero. To himself, he is nothing more than an object that's meant to be sacrificed if it's needed.

Now, let's continue with: emotional dysregulation, extreme mood swings, and inappropriate, strong anger, such as losing your temper often, being sarcastic or bitter, or physically fighting.

Well, first let's talk about something that's called "splitting". BPD is a disorder that causes extreme mood swings, making the person go one second from feeling happy and fine, to the next second feeling complete, pure rage. There is a fine line between these two moods, and it's very easy to fall over the edge. For some people, it can happen multiple times a day and could last from minutes to hours to even days, and for others, it can happen very rarely, it depends on how severe the symptoms are for each person. One thing in common though, is that splitting occurs when a specific memory, trauma or emotion gets triggered.

There are different types of splits, one of them being Rage split. Rage splits usually come with sudden outbursts of anger that seemingly come out of nowhere. When it occurs, the person might feel a tightness in their chest, their vision might narrow. They might experience a burning sensation in their chest as if their heart is trying to escape. This overwhelming emotion of anger can cause them to become infuriated with someone or something for no apparent reason. These episodes can cause impulsive actions, inappropriate speech and violent behaviour. It's almost like a cathartic release of emotion, and oftentimes the person doesn't remember the event fully, or only remembers it as a blur.

Now let's compare Midoriya's rage and outbursts and how they could be considered as splitting.

Scenario One: Izuku screaming his ass off saying GIVE ME MY KACCHAN BACK, charging at the obviously overpowered villains with two broken arms. Now, we can all agree that this was pretty out of character for him, and everyone was like Okay wtf. So the threat of losing Katsuki(which also directly correlates to his fear of abandonment) triggered him and made him impulsively and recklessly run towards the villains, even though he was completely defenseless.

Scenario Two: "Monoma, you b*tch". Midoriya literally unlocking a NEW QUIRK cause Monoma was talking shit about his FP, causing violent behaviour from him, getting tunnel vision, being completely OUT of it to the point they had to use Shinso's quirk to make him snap out of the episode. And now, this wasn't just about some rando insulting Bakugo. In my theory I explained how Monoma insulting Bakugo was essentially Monoma insulting Izuku's own values and identity. Because he has absorbed Bakugo's ideals, his values, his desire to win. Monoma talking shit about him felt like he just insulted who Izuku was as a person, as if he jabbed at the very essence of Izuku's dream, of his ideals. THAT was why it triggered him so bad.

Scenario Three: Midoriya vs Shigaraki 1. FP got stabbed, Midoriya immediately saw red and ran straight into the villain's hand without thinking about the consequences. He almost rage quit y'all. He raged so hard he bit the goddamn tendril like a freaking dog. He disassociated so hard he got tunnel vision and his eyes actually lit ablaze. Bruh.

Scenario There'stoomuchtokeepcount: Midoriya vs Shigaraki 2. Aka Deku AFK-ing in the middle of a freaking war and being like I'm out, y'all on your own now, after seeing FP's dead body. Tightness in his chest, unable to breathe, vision narrowed, in fact, completely blocked because of Smokescreen. A burning sensation in his chest as if his heart wanted to escape = Three of Swords. A cathartic release of emotion as his quirks released and gotten out of control. His biggest rage split moment right there.

But, rage isn't the only type of splitting that can occur. Another type is Isolation split.

Isolation splits usually stem from a deep-seated fear of abandonment. You may find yourself feeling unwelcome and unwanted, even in familiar environments such as school. You might have an urge to push people away, and often cut yourself off from others. For some, this means aggressively cutting people out of their lives for no apparent reason, for others, it might be a more subtle withdrawal from social groups and conversations. All the while hoping that someone will notice and ask them how they are doing. It might also include suppressing anger into anxiety, guilt, or self-hatred, identity dysmorphia, self-sabotaging relationships to be in control, stress-related paranoia, loss of contact with reality, and on-going feelings of emptiness.

Reminds me of a certain Vigilante Arc.

Isolation splits usually stem from fear of abandonment. In Izuku's case, why did he leave UA? Well, on the surface level, it was to protect his classmates from harm. But on a deeper level..

During his Vigilante Arc, he felt like he had to carry the burden of OFA all by himself. He felt like this responsibility that he carried made him a burden for others, including Katsuki, his friends, his family, and All Might. He feared that they would also realize this and feel like he's a burden, so he pushed them away, cut himself off, and left before they could leave him behind. Of course, this is not the truth, but this is what he believed. His feelings of anxiety towards the possibility of losing them in the war, his guilt of being a burden, his self-sabotaging is what made him believe that he is unwanted, unwelcome. During splits, the person views everything as either black or white, no in-between. Either all good, or all bad. He wanted to feel in control by leaving them behind for "their sake", almost maniacally insistent on being alone, like in the scene where All Might wanted to check on him and give him some food, but Deku ultimately ended up pushing him away and leaving him on the ground too.

During these episodes, people with BPD cannot logically think the situation through, they don't understand that their intense paranoia and belief that everyone hates them is just the reflection of their own feelings. During this episode, this Vigilante Arc(the episode didn't last for the entire arc, but there were probably higher and lower moments instead) he lost contact with reality and lived in a state of constant paranoia and a feeling of emptiness. He believed it was for the "better", but deep inside, that child inside of him just wanted someone to save him, to pull him back and not let go. Deep down he was just a child who just wanted some reassurance and to be validated. Like in his letter to Katsuki. Although we didn't see the whole letter, there were snippets of "Help me", and "thanks for everything" in it, reflecting Izuku's own feelings of "Please love me" and how even though he said he wanted to be alone, deep down he just wanted Katsuki to save him, to be there by his side.

Lastly, another symptom of BPD that can occur, albeit rarely, is the idolization, devaluation and ghosting of certain people, specifically the Favorite Person. This might just, technically, explain the ending of the manga and Chapter 431. Midoriya subconsciously idolized Katsuki his whole life seeing him as perfect. But as we all know, nobody is perfect. Midoriya had always viewed Kacchan as his image of victory, as someone who cannot lose. Yet, he has. The very person who he believed could never ever lose died on the battlefield. The person who believed was the strongest broke down crying in front of him saying he wants to be on his heels for the rest of his life. And what was Izuku's reaction?

Stop crying, this isn't like you.

Midoriya progressively went through the devaluation of Bakugo Katsuki's character, of his Favorite Person. Now, this is just a theory, because devaluation doesn't necessarily mean anything bad. It just means that he had stopped blindly idolizing Katsuki and realized that he is just a human too.

But in some cases of BPD, devaluation also comes with losing interest. Of finding a new favorite person who they see as their new "idol". Or to put it simply, Uraraka. Now, I don't want to go into more details because I am still very much hurt from Chapter 431, but we have seen an obvious ignorance, almost ghosting from Izuku's side towards Katsuki, something that is completely the opposite of how he would have acted before the war. Instead, he is looking at Ochaco as if she was his hero, and he sees her as a person that he wants to get to know more, to get closer to. Leaving Bakugo behind.

I spy an untreated BPD right there. But how could this disorder have developed in Midoriya? Well, it can be due to either genetics, or a series of traumatic events during childhood, for example emotional abuse, neglect, and going through feelings like being afraid, upset, unsupported or unvalidated.

Well emotional abuse came from the bullying. Neglect came from his father leaving. Being afraid was also because of the bullying and Bakugo. He felt unsupported by his own mother when it came to his dream of becoming a hero after being diagnosed quirkless. And he felt unvalidated his whole life simply because he didn't have a quirk. So yeah. I'm pretty sure these were all reasons that he has developed BPD, although not a severe case. If he actually turned into a villain and never got into UA, I imagine these symptoms could have worsened, making him extremely irritable, prone to snapping and having emotional outbursts and having an even more toxic codependency in his relationships.

I'm not saying that BPD is anything bad, I also have a friend who has BPD and it doesn't make you a bad person, people with BPD just simply experience emotions more intensely than others.

So yeah, I hope you guys enjoyed this analysis, and of course, let me know what you guys think!

[coffe-book-club]

‧˚₊⋅ ୨ anima ୧ ⋅₊˚‧

info: husband tom kaulitz x wife fem! reader

disclaimers: historical setting ‘60 in the south of italy; sicily, age gap 30 - 34 agnst and smut, unromanticized mafia, mention of sex, blood, drugs and guns, sexism.

remember in this one-shot i'm absolutely not saying that tom kaulitz is a bad person, this is a figment of my imagination.

‘a dead look. that's what they say, right? lifeless, glassy, ​​empty. the dead gaze was now a constant companion, always following her, never further than a blink of an eye. it hid in the back of her brain and accompanied her in dreams. His dead look, the exact moment he went from alive to no longer alive. y/n saw it in the quickest glances and darkest shadows, sometimes even in the mirror, on her own face...’

as soon as i enter our bedroom, i notice my husband sitting at his desk. near our double bed, with a cigarette between his lips and only in boxers. his head is slightly bowed and his long wavy hair covering his face.

we have never sailed in gold, on the contrary. we live in a small remote village in the south of Italy, in the early sixties. crime is very high and having a husband who is part of it is equally scary. our house is too small for seven people, too old and ruined. but that's all we can afford.

i approach his chair, looking at my husband with a tired look. caressing my swollen belly, covered by an old blue dress.

we already have five children and now i'm in the fifth month, waiting for the sixth child. and despite everything, he always wants more children. because he doesn't care, because at the end of the day i'm the one who will have to take care of them. i have always been a very sweet and fragile woman, unlike my husband i cannot scold or hit our children...

“tom please... go talk to our children, they haven't listened to me. dinner is ready and eleonora didn't want to prepare the table, i've told her so many times, but she doesn't listen to me” his face, as well as his muscular body. he's covered with many old scars. caused by guns, batons and sharp weapons. his masculine smell is enticing. he has a dangerous aura. he glances at me briefly, but then looks back down at the gun in his hand and continues cleaning it.

“have no time for children. they don't listen to you, because they know you're too weak to do anything. they fear me, but they don't respect you. if you don't want to punish them, i will and i won't be gentle. make sure they're in line”

i observe how my husband carefully cleans his gun, a beretta 87. the old white cloth with some black and other slightly greyish stains, is in his large right hand, while the gun is in his left hand. even though tom isn't touching me right now, i feel the slight roughness of his hands and his firm grip on those two objects.

my heartbeat accelerates slowly, knowing full well that he will beat the children and especially eleonora. for not listening to me. a feeling of regret, slowly spreads in my heart. regretting that i had not remained silent and said nothing to my husband. “please tom, don't hit them”

“then do your job. i've told you a hundred times. they need to behave properly. i give them enough food, even though we don't make a lot of money. i keep this family together, while you do nothing all day, and now you aren't even capable of raising them properly. i've had enough”

his words are sharp blades to my poor heart, the feeling of not doing enough for my family returns and i once again feel like a completely useless mother and wife. tom and i don't even notice that little camilla, only four years old. she's watching us at the doorway, in the small space of the door lock, listening to our words. “i'm sorry... but i can't be strict with them”

“then leave it to me” camilla watches through the crack in the door, her face a picture of sadness and fear. she hugs her favorite teddy bear for comfort and tries to hold back her tears.

“it's really hard for me to handle five kids, tom. our sixth child will also be born in a few months and you still want to get me pregnant” my eyes show all my worry and fear. we don't live in gold and having little money it's really difficult to feed seven mouths. “that's your job. you are a woman, so you shouldn't be so weak. all you have to do is lie down a few times a month and keep the house clean. if my mother could manage with nine children, you also can” he shakes his head, his voice getting more and more annoyed. “and if i want another child, we will have another child” his tone of voice is cold, there's not the slightest hint of kindness or understanding in his words.

tom doesn't understand at this moment that i'm just scared of not being able to give a future. i look away from his face, breaking our eye-contact. and then lower my gaze further and observe my maternal womb. i gently caress my belly, as if i wanted to comfort our little son, not yet born. “i'm just scared, tom”

“how can you be scared about something completely normal. having children is the most natural thing in the world. and if i want another child, you will give birth to it, as many times as i want” he lights another cigarette and takes a deep drag. “is that understood? if i ask for another child, you have to fulfill my demand”

“tom, my only fear is for their future. i'm afraid that they won't have a comfortable future” i look up again, looking into my husband's eyes. his beautiful hazel eyes, which i had fallen in love with when we were only sixteen. my tone of voice is sweet, sweet like a freshly baked apple pie, with brown sugar and cinnamon on top. “the future of your children isn't my problem. i don't care what happens when they're old enough to take care of themselves. they have a roof over their heads and warm food on the table. what more do they need?” he looks back at me and shakes his head in disbelief. “do you know how many children in this country sleep on the street? how many don't have anything to eat? and you're whining, because you don't know if your children will be comfortable when they grow up. ridiculous...”

the strong smell of burnt tobacco, persists in our bedroom. the tanned skin of his powerful and muscular body shines softly in the light of the scorching mid-july sun. a soft sigh escapes my lips, as i look at my husband's handsome face and his words echo in my mind, like a broken cassette. “and this doesn't scare you? aren't you afraid that something similar could happen to our children too? then it is also useless for you to want many children, if you don't even care about their future”

his eyes sparkle for a moment and with the cigarette in his mouth, he gets up and takes a step towards me. “you don't get it, do you?” his rough hands grab mine upper arms and pull me close. his face is just a few inches away from mine and his voice is a whisper, laced with passion. “what i want is very important to me. we will have more children. not because of any concerns about the future, but because i want more children. and i will get what i want and i'm not afraid at all. you keep forgetting that i'll protect my family. i have no time for childish fears, i'm not scared of anything. my children grow up with my teaching, they already know how to behave. so there's nothing to worry about”

he takes another drag on the cigarette and keeps staring at me, as if wondering what's wrong with me. the silence between us remains for a few seconds, then he breaks it with a question. “are you really afraid that your children will become like me?”

his eyes sparkle for a moment and with the cigarette in his mouth he places his gun now polished and cleaned of oil and small blood stains that had remained encrusted on the barrel of the silver gun, he gets up and takes a step towards me. his rough hands grab mine upper arms and pull me close. he bends slightly to be at my height and be able to look me in the eyes.

“our children are yours too, this means that part of your dna is in their bodies. they will most likely follow in your footsteps and that scares me, they will do very bad things and they will have to constantly hide from the authorities”

i winces in slight pain when he grabs my arms. he's so strong, so aggressive. the mere touch of his hands makes her tremble like a leaf in a storm. and he's so tall that my head barely reaches his shoulders. a shiver runs down my spine, the feeling of being so exposed and defenseless before him. “why are you so worried that the children will end up like me? you should be proud. and besides, as i said, i'll protect them from the authorities. i will do anything to protect my family”

i observe his face with fear, while his grip on my arms becomes more and more iron and his nails dig slightly into my pale skin covered with a light layer of sweat, forming small reddish crescents. “about what exactly? drug dealing or arms trafficking or human organ trafficking or to kill innocent people? would you want this for our children?” little camilla continues to observe in silence, from the small lock of the old wooden door. holding her teddy bear close to her chest, not understanding what is happening, between her mother and father.

“whatever. if that's what's necessary to gain money and keep the family together, i wouldn't rule out anything. my work is dirty, but it helps to feed the children and keep them safe. and as long as people keep buying my goods, nothing will change.” he lets go of my arms and takes a step back, but despite this, he still looks at me with a serious look that causes me to tremble. his words are full of coldness and indifference. and his facial expression is like that of someone who has no fear of anything...

during the night the sultry heat does not fade, but continues to persist. our bedroom windows are open, as are our children's windows. the light of the moonlight penetrates our room. gently illuminating our completely naked bodies, after spending a night of pure passion.

my husband tom, is lying on his back. a light layer of sweat illuminates his skin and his muscular body. making it juicier and even more desirable than before. his big penis, is still completely hard and erect. it's gently resting on his lower abdomen, while his big balls are still full. the fat pink mushroom tip glistens slightly, leaking a bit of pre-cum. his long hair is slightly wet with sweat and one arm is resting under his head, flexing his bicep. i too, like him, am completely naked. the body of a pregnant woman, with abundant breasts full of milk. “thank you, my beloved tom”

he stares at me, lying next to him. my long hair covering lightly my face and my body still dripping with sweat and other bodily fluids of our last night of passion. one of his hands caresses my shoulder and his voice is full of passion. “you did well. really well. maybe you shouldn't complain so much all the time” he smiles and his other hand moves the hair out of my face. “if you keep being a good wife, i'm sure we will have many more nights like this in the months to come”

my head rests on his muscular chest. the moonlight softly illuminates our bodies, reflecting our shadows on the wall behind me. dancing sweetly. it's good scent of leather, burnt tobacco and white musk invades my nostrils, clouding my mind. I gently and slowly caress his lightly tanned skin with my fingertips, the small tattoo on his left pectoral at heart level catches my gaze. my name written in cursive, etched into his skin. brings back many sweet memories.

my heartbeat slowly accelerates as i take in his small tattoo and the multiple scars adorning his body. scars caused by a difficult life and a violent and loveless childhood and adolescence. “do you remember when we were in our early twenties? we had been married a few months ago and i remember that one night you came home with your shoulder completely bloody. i remember that they put three bullets in your left shoulder, and i took all three off you with my bare hands. i still remember your screams of pain and all my cries, i was terrified of losing you. when i disinfected your wound and sewed it up myself, because you didn't want to go to the hospital. and i remember changing your bandages every day” i speak to him softly, stroking the small divot on his left shoulder. “two opposites linked for eternity, our souls belong to each other as well as our hearts”

a smile appears on his lips. “i remember. you're so strong, my love. and we really are a good match” he caresses my hair and my face, his movements slow and gentle. “we're like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle that can't be separated from each other...”

his sweet caresses, mixed with his words of love which are not always present in our marriage. they are like warm honey to my heart. i slowly close my eyes, abandoning myself to his fingers that tangle in my long wavy blonde hair, now loose. that fall onto the green sheets of our mattress.

“you have to understand, my love” his hands move to my hips, caressing my body and moving my hair away from my face. “you are the mother of my children, you take care of the house. so i can build a future for us. you are everything to me. the most important thing in my life...” his eyes are warm and kind, looking right at me. the light from the night shines gently on his broad chest and my swollen belly.

06.30 of the morning.

i slowly go down the creaking wooden stairs, which lead to the small kitchen along with the living room. the house is particularly quiet, everyone is still sleeping.

from the old wooden door, with opaque glass. i notice the light on and the slight noise of the box television turned on to the news. as soon as i open the door i notice michele, sitting on the dining table slightly bent over with a bowl of hot milk and stale bread. his brown hair is slightly disheveled and his eyes are tired. michele is the oldest of his brothers, he is ten years old and is a carbon copy of tom. both aesthetically and temperamentally. i slowly approach him, with my left hand resting on my maternal womb, covered by the old green dress, caressing it gently.

“good morning michele, why are you already awake?” i ask him softly, bringing my right hand closer to his head, to stroke his messy hair. leaning slightly to give him a sweet kiss on his hair.

he looks up as if he's surprised and then smiles. “hello, mama. i woke up because i was hungry, so i turned on the television and made myself some breakfast... are the little ones still asleep? they usually sleep a lot” he takes a bite from the bread and sips his milk. his brown hair is still disheveled and a few crumbs are stuck on his small white pajamas. “what are you going to do now, mama?”

a sweet smile forms on my lips at his words, i gently caress her soft hair, combing it lightly with my fingers. “very good, michele. yes, everyone is still sleeping” i whisper to him, so as not to wake the children and my husband, who are all still sleeping.

“i have to prepare breakfast. there's apricot jam tart in the oven, why didn't you get it?” i ask him, moving away from michele to approach the kitchen, and open the pot cupboard where the moka is located, to prepare coffee for tom.

the old wooden glass door is opened again. the strong smell of burnt tobacco invades the entire small living room and kitchen. i turn slightly, noticing my husband's tired look. his wavy brown hair gently caresses his broad, muscular shoulders. he is only wearing a pair of white underwear, his big morning erection, despite being covered, is still visible. the hand-rolled cigarette is only half-smoked, hanging from his soft lips. “buongiorno amore”

“buongiorno, amore mio” tom's voice is low and rough, his tired eyes still fixed on me. he takes a drag from his cigarette and smiles at me, his lips full of desire. “i'm really hungry, what have you prepared for me? there's only bread and jam this morning...” his body is a masterpiece of male power and raw sexiness. the white briefs covering his morning erection give his body a touch of male dominance and strength.

his voice is even lower and hoarse in the morning. the eyes cold and fixed on my body, despite my abundant breasts full of milk, after having given birth to five children and waiting for the sixth, with the swollen belly of a visibly pregnant mother. tom is still strongly attracted to me, i can feel it in his gaze, which burns softly and slowly on my body. “uhm... if you want there is some fruit left in the fridge, in the oven there is the apricot jam tart that i prepared yesterday afternoon and the coffee will be ready in a few minutes” he smiles, the desire in his eyes slowly turning into anger and annoyance.

“i don't want to eat cold tart and a piece of fruit, after how much i had to work yesterday i deserve something better” he gets up from the chair, his hands on his hips and takes a step towards me. “or are you too lazy to make me a proper breakfast? and you should know it's not just for me. the kids need breakfast, too” his body and his voice are full of testosterone and anger. his firm, cold voice sends a shiver of worry down my spine. the little one inside me kicks immediately at the sound of his voice. as if he realized something was wrong.

i briefly shift my gaze to michele, his face lowered as he continues to soak the stale bread in hot milk, without daring to look up. but he observes the whole situation from the corner of his eye and i can sense all the hatred that michele feels for his father. and it breaks my heart. i immediately turn my gaze back to my husband, letting a small sigh of sadness leave my lips.

“if you want i can prepare you some hard-boiled eggs, some cured meats and cheeses. but children don't eat much in the morning...”

“so, you have time to bake stupid tarts, but you don't have enough time to make a proper, nutritious breakfast for your family?” he takes a step closer and looks into my eyes, his anger still present in his voice. “as if i'd believe you that the children don't eat much in the morning. you don't even want to make the effort, do you? you don't really care for our sons and daughters” his voice is loud, full of anger and annoyance, but his body still looks masculine and attractive.

little michele's face slowly becomes redder and redder. his hands clenched into two fists, the way his father is talking to his mother. causing him enormous discomfort. i immediately look down at his words, bringing both my hands to my womb, caressing it gently. the little one inside me, not yet born, begins to kick insistently, as if he wanted to protect me from his father. “uhm but... it's the truth tom, i know very well what children prefer to eat for breakfast, and it's something very light. would you like some eggs, with some cured meats and tomatoes, with coffee?”

he sighs deeply and shakes his head. the anger in him slowly turns into a mixture of disappointment and sadness. his voice becomes softer, almost as if he felt guilty for shouting at me in front of the children. “yes, alright fine” he turns around and sits back down next to michele. he takes a long drag of his cigarette and doesn't say anything for a long time. the anger doesn't disappear, but is hidden under a deep sadness. he looks at his son out of the corner of his eye.

in the afternoon the sun is even more scorching, the shutters are closed completely to prevent the heat from entering the house, as is the entrance door which is semi-closed. the sun ruins the vegetables in the garden, it makes the centrioles small and hard, the tomatoes dry without a minimum of juice. michele, eleonora, leonardo and edoardo are out playing with the neighbors. little camilla is currently taking her afternoon nap, in her bedroom shared with eleonora. while i'm standing, in the middle of the small living room, ironing clothes. tom went to town with some associates, to transact some 'business'.

in the afternoon, the house looks peaceful and almost deserted. tom's car is missing from the driveway and our children, except for the little one sleeping in her room, are outside playing with the neighbors. i can feel the warm air through the thin curtains and the sunlight creates delicate patterns of light and shade on the wooden floor. i carefully iron a pile of tom's shirts, before starting with the children's socks and underwear. the television and radio are turned off, focusing on the sound of the irons and the warm breeze coming through the windows. the house is particularly quiet, the only noise present is that of the steam from the hot iron. i spent the last two hours cleaning the house and ironing in complete peace of mind.

the little one inside me is also particularly calm at this moment, as if he too has fallen asleep. he kicks gently from time to time, to make me feel his presence.

as the afternoon wears on, i feel the tiredness slowly creeping into my body. i'm sweating from the summer heat and the exertion from cleaning the house and ironing. my back starts to hurt and my muscles are tired from standing and bending all the time. then the sound of the front door opening breaks the peace of mind and the sound of tom's heavy steps reverberate throughout the house. he has the same tired voice as this morning and his face reflects a mixture of annoyance and anger. the old solid wood entrance door opens slowly. i look up from camilla's little blue t-shirt, noticing my husband entering the house and closing the door behind him, without saying anything. his eyebrows are furrowed and an annoyed frown is present on his handsome masculine face. his well-defined body is hidden by his clothes, but you can feel the roughness and hardness of his body.

“hi love... be quiet please, camilla is taking her nap. everything went fine?”

“do you want me to be quiet in my own damn house?” tom's voice doesn't hide the annoyance and anger in him. he takes off his jacket and t-shirt and throws them next to his bag on the back of a chair. he's only wearing his boxers and black socks, displaying his masculine and hard physique. his skin is tanned and dark in tone, his hair is still messy and filled with sweat.

a loud sigh leaves his lips as he strides towards the bathroom. i lower my gaze again to continue with what i was doing a few moments ago. tom hasn't closed the bathroom door and i can hear him urinating and coughing, due to the many cigarettes he smokes.

a few moments later, the sound of his loud footsteps echo again. tom is back in the living room and heads straight for the fridge. he takes a beer out and opens it without a word. ge takes a few sips and looks into the distance. he speaks slowly after some time and his voice looks a lot softer and even a bit regretful. “sorry, i had a bad day, honey. i know i shouldn't be taking it all out on you” i don't take my eyes off my white t-shirt with yellow stripes, while the steam from the iron slowly flares up in the small living room, a sweet smile forms on my lips at his words.

“don't worry love, what happened?” tom's eyes remain on the white t-shirt i been ironing, as if he wants to make sure i'm not looking at his face. “there's been a problem with a shipment. a large batch of my goods was stolen yesterday during delivery” he looks at you for a moment and takes a sip of his beer. “this month's earning will be very small” afrown appears on his face and his voice is full of worry. my husband's words cloud my thoughts, right now the only thing i think about are our five children and soon to be six. i think about the future of each of them and my heartbeat slowly accelerates. i stop what i was doing and look up to look at my husband. his light blue shirt is slightly unbuttoned and i can glimpse his toned pecs and some short hair.

“my god... as if we already had so much money. and this is exactly why i'm telling you that i wouldn't want to have any more children, tom. we don't have money, i'm telling you this for their own good” tom's mood immediately changes and he looks at me in a more serious manner. as if a huge stone was placed in his stomach.

“listen here little woman. you're pregnant and it's time for you to stop moaning and complaining. i decide how many children we're going to have, not you” he takes a step toward you and speaks with more force in his voice. “i'm trying to do my best to provide for my whole family, and yet you complain as if everything isn't enough for you” i follow my husband with my gaze, raising my head when he comes closer to me so i can look better at his handsome masculine face. his jaw is clenched and i can tell just from the way he looks at me that he is very angry with me right now.

“i have never complained. in fact i have always tried to adapt to your needs, always obeying you. the problem is that you are too selfish, and you are not interested in the well-being of our children” my voice is firm, i don't take my eyes off my husband. observing her dark hazel orbs, which i fell madly in love with and still am in love with.

“i'm scared for their future, tom” his eyes remain on mine, as if he wants to intimidate me. “of course i'm interested in the well-being of my children. i work every day to give them the best life possible. i just feel like you're never satisfied with anything i do” his voice is loud and full of indignation, as he takes a step closer to me. “do you think it's easy to provide for a family with five children? and soon there'll be six...” he gestures to my swollen belly, with disdain. “and if you didn't want to have children, you had to keep your legs closed”

a small sigh escapes my lips. i shift my gaze slightly, looking at the open window near the refrigerator, the sky is still blue and there isn't even a cloud. a few birds fly towards the horizon and in the background you can hear chickens croaking. “i'm not so naïve as to not know that supporting seven people is difficult, and I'm not saying that. but if you had promised me, after i had graduated with top marks, we could have moved to milan and led a better life, with two salaries. but you didn't want to because you kept telling me that career women are whores”

he clenches his jaw, his voice becoming even louder and more aggressive toward me with every word i speak. “you need to accept your role as a mother and wife! i work hard every day to provide for this family, and yet you're out there with your feminist bullcrap, thinking that you can lead a better life somewhere else with your career” he takes another step closer to me. “if you keep criticizing me like that, i'll throw you, and the little whore inside you, out of my house”

my eyebrows furrow slightly at his sharp words, as if they were a thousand sharp blades piercing my heart countless times. i cross both my arms over my chest, forgetting for a moment that the iron is still on. “besides the fact that you're extremely rude, it's not just you who works. i also work hard to take care of you and our children, to keep the house clean and make food for our family, but above all to educate our children and help them with their homework, comfort them and support them, i have to take care of them when they are sick... the only problem is your machismo, i only expressed my opinion but it's you who continues to criticize me for everything i do”

his face becomes even more filled with anger as he looks at me. “oh... you're trying to tell me what you do is similar to what I'm doing for this family, is that it?” he laughs in a sarcastic way and approaches me even more. “aww... poor you, you have to take care of my children and cook some food. you also want to call that 'work'? that's just a normal duty of a woman. a normal woman shouldn't have to work outside of the house like a hooker”

for a moment i shift my gaze slightly to make sure that rom and i haven't woken up little camilla from her afternoon nap, and then look him in the eyes again. at his words i shake my head in negative, not agreeing with him.

my heartbeat slowly accelerates, as does my breathing which slowly becomes heavier. “i don't agree with you at all, just as a man works outside of his home, a woman should too. the only thing i bitterly regret is that i gave up everything for love. i gave up my career as a teacher, i gave up so many things for you, because you didn't want”

tom is more close to me now and can smell the pheromones of my body and my heated skin. he laughs again, in a more mocking and arrogant way, looking at me. “oh, you don't agree with me? then i guess i should kick you out of the house, you feminist whore. it's my house and it's my rules. if i say you're a stay at home wife, then you're a stay at home wife. if i say you're just supposed to have children for me, then that's what you're going to do...”

our faces are a few centimeters apart, my husband's tall and powerful body is slightly bent forward, the protruding vein on the left side of his neck is clearly visible. the tension in the air is palpable, my arms are still folded and the small frown doesn't leave my face. “this is also my home and just as you have your opinions, i have mine and i have the same right as you to express them”

he smiles at me and moves a tiny little bit closer, so that his body is pressed against mine. he's only wearing his boxers, and i can feel the warmth coming from his hard muscles and the heat and sweat in his body. “so you think i'm going to be like all those weak men who are dominated by their women?” he laughs at me in a rough and arrogant way and puts his hand on my waist, while looking into my eyes. i can feel the strength and masculine power coming in waves coming from his body and his breath. the little one i carry in my womb kicks slightly, as if he can feel all the tension between me and his father. his large right hand lightly squeezes my left hip, even through the light fabric of my dress i can feel the roughness of his hand. his breathing is heavy and slightly stresses my face, while my heartbeat accelerates more and more. “i'm not saying this, i don't want to dominate anyone... but we have the same rights and the same priorities”

“oh really?” his voice becomes low and i realize he's smiling at me again. the strength of his grip on my left hip becomes even more intense, as his fingertips dig into my skin a little. i can't help but feel the masculine and dominating presence of his body, and at the same time feel the passion and lust in his voice. “you have to accept what your place is. you're my wife and as a wife, your duty is to take care of my family. so don't you dare talk back to me again...”

the sun is slowly setting, the sky has turned a pale orange and pale pink. the birds fly high in the sky and the cicadas have just started their monotonous song. all seven of us are sitting at the table, having dinner in complete tranquility. the television is on and the journalist's voice fills the small kitchen together with the small living room. the metal forks tap lightly on the ceramic plates, while we dine in religious silence.

the family dinner is quiet and calm. everyone is eating their food in complete silence, only occasionally accompanied by the sound of forks and knives on plates. the television is on and the journalist's voice is the only thing being heard in the kitchen and small living room. tom's daughter camilla, who is the younger of the two girls, is sitting on her little feet on the chair. she takes some bites from her plate and looks at her father with a slight smile on her face. her blonde hair is curled up and her light brown eyes are filled with youth and innocence. little camilla moves her toes slightly, then taps them gently on the wooden chair and happily chews her morsels of meat with tomato and white onion. his gaze is on his father, while tom is focused on the news on television.

michele, eleonora, leonardo and edoardo eat their dinner in religious silence. occasionally looking up to watch television. “what did you four do with the neighbors, today?” i ask sweetly to michele, eleonora, leonardo and edoardo.

leonardo looks at me with a little smile and answers. “we played outside. we chased each other and made up some small games” tom is still eating his food in silence and looks at the television. once again, the only sound heard is the eating of food. his expression is neutral and his eyes continue to look at the television. he's still thinking about the theft of the goods this morning.

hii 🥨 how are you? i'm so so happy that december has started, i can't wait for december 8th to put up the christmas tree and i should also start making gifts for christmas 🙃 even though i will be swamped with work and driving school, i will still try to post once a week. i'm so sorry for the grammatical and spelling errors, but english is not my native language. xoxo flo.

[astroismypassion]

Im currently having my moon conjunct his mars in aquarius at 0 degree, can you please tell me something about this aspect in synastry? 😫

Hello,

yes so astrologically speaking to remain more objective first for a moment, you may want to have babies with this person, fertility could be high, when one expresses their emotions, the other who see this as selfish or they could act on the defense. You may also connect really quickly early on, you may also want to touch each other much quicker than other people before, you might be handsy in a way you want to hug them when you greet them.

Now, my personal opinion, because I kinda want to share what I observed real life here. This can be found in family bonds too actually, I have Aries Moon while my mum is Aries Mars, my dad is Aries Mars. And they know how to push my buttons to motivate me or to make me irritated or even angry. I know I couple who has Capricorn Moon conjunct Capricorn Mars, yes the irritation, fights, conflict can appear much more dramatic with this aspect than with others. The intimacy may be introduced too quickly too early on. Such as one was intimate due to having feelings, but the other was just in it for sex. So it can get very confusing when you realize you were not on the same page. This can also mean that someone's family might not like them. Or not entirely approve of this connection. To me this aspect is not as nice as Moon Venus aspects, because this one is more lust than love. You obviously have to look at other synstry aspects, hopefully there is more "glue" aspects that provide long-term connection, because this can be more short-lived based on impulsive, spontaneous actions based on lust, chemistry or tension. But if it has some staying power, other staying, glue aspects in synastry, then it's wonderful, because it helps to keep the spark alive, you still flirt, love being around each other, even later on. Sometimes Mars person's actions hurt emotionally Moon person. Yet, Mars person usually doesn't understand their own actions and how affects the people around them. So it's kinda Moon person is emotionally sensitive and emotionally intelligent, Mars person is self-serving and unaware of the effect their action has on those around them.

@astroismypassion

[transmutationisms]

You’ve introduced me to so many topics in theory but there are days when I have no idea what you’re talking about and i twirl my hair and kick my feet while I’m lying on my bed and giggle like omg tell me more

hi megan <3 this is fair also sometimes i am truly talking out my ass and making zero effort to make a thought comprehensible to anyone else lol but i remember you've read some of the 'speculative materialists' so you would probably get a kick out of this:

basically i was mostly just drafting a paragraph explaining how the french 'idéologues' in the 1790s-1810s conceived of sense perception and access to external phenomena, and i used kant as a compare/contrast because he's an easy reference point on this topic/time period:

Idéologie itself was never a singular scientific method, but described a loose methodological family (often referred to by ‘Idéologues,’ such as Cabanis, as analysis) that aimed to uncover the deeper truths and universal laws that structured phenomenal observations. It was this quality that led the historian of medicine George Rosen to describe idéologie as a meeting point of empiricism and the “passive psychology” of Étienne Bonnot de Condillac (1714–1780). For Condillac and his followers, including Cabanis, all ideas of the human mind had their origin in sensations—that is, in the impressions made by external objects upon the sensory organs. Thus, an idea could always be broken down to its component sensations, which could be traced back to their external sources. There were no human ideas or mental faculties that did not ultimately take their source from sensory impressions; human understanding could be studied, corrected, and eventually refashioned by careful application of the ‘analytical’ method. Whereas Kant, whose first Critique was published in 1781, defended a distinction between a priori and a posteriori judgments, the Idéologues considered even an inherited tendency or instinct to be ultimately and strictly a product of sensation. If Kantian transcendental idealism dictated that human observation could never directly access the external phenomena in-themselves, idéologie instead embraced the naïve realist position that the external objects could truly be known and described—but only by precise analysis of their noumenal representations.

and then i was like well condillac died in 1780 and cabanis's most famous treatise was published in 1802 so basically the timing lines up really well for this comparison to kant, and what you would need to do is derive these different attitudes toward things-in-themselves from the political-economic contexts that they're embedded in & patterned on. which would be extremely easy to do on the french side because cabanis was 1) a politician and 2) explicitly openly concerned about the health of the workforce as a means of ensuring the continued production of french national wealth, such that my argument about him is essentially that we should be reading him as espousing proto eugenic positions and as verbalising much of the biopolitical remit of the revolutionary and postrevolutionary french state. like essentially, analogous to the way that c. darwin 'found' capitalist competition in nature, you would say something like, cabanis 'found' (naturalised) the need for management and alteration of the labourer's body & physiology in his medico-philosophical treatises.

anyway i would need to brush up on kant biography stuff but given his interest in physical anthropology and specifically his racial essentialism, it would be easy also to argue that his 'correlationist' thinking derived from how he patterned psychology on a teleological racial-hierarchical view of human biology. which is in turn ofc an economic and political argument. so what i would want to prove here is that both these positions, while seemingly disparate, are ultimately just different bourgeois ideologies & follow superstructurally from the material alienation of capitalist labour relations etc etc. i would do this more elegantly and thoroughly in an actual article but this is tumblr.dashboard :-)

[idontknowreallywhy]

Resurface 29 - Reassure

Story so far

Sometimes the time to talk comes before you think you are ready. Sorry Virg.

Apologies in advance for the overuse of …

…

… I blame Virg’s half-drugged inner monologue. And also Alan.

💚💙❤️💛🧡💚💙❤️💛🧡💚💙❤️💛🧡

“It’s my fault Virgil got sick.”

To Scott’s credit the look of incredulity had passed very quickly and returned to concerned big brother as he prompted “what makes you think that?”

Alan was several sentences into his attempt to turn a confused childhood memory into a coherent narrative before Virgil suddenly realised he should have objected to that initial statement. Damn. Not that it would have made any difference, probably… a Tracy determined to accept blame was difficult to redirect… but it wasn’t a great look not to have disagreed at the outset.

Maybe he should say it now, just in case?

He sat up a little and opened his mouth but belatedly realised the rest of the family were now hearing about something deeply personal Virgil had hoped none of them would ever find out. Especially not Scott. He blushed, well aware that objectively his little coping mechanisms from that… time… could sound desperately unhinged, even before he got sick and he hadn’t even properly heard how Alan had described it so he could explain and damn he’d stopped listening again and Alan was still talking…

“… and of course I was a compete idiot wasn’t I because it wasn’t a ghost hug Virgil meant at all it was… more like a memory? Of a hug? And I knew I shouldn’t go in there but… but I missed him…” Alan suddenly looked back up at Scott who had frozen in place, both hands still wrapped around one of Alan’s eyes flicking between him and Virgil “… I mean you. I missed you too and I… thought maybe if…if I went in you’d come and I’d get a hug again as well but then… tried to balance the mug… so stupid and I ruined everything… and he… he looked so sad I couldn’t breathe. And then he got sick… so…”

Virgil just shook his head and moaned a little in lieu of speaking. His eyes were squeezed shut but could feel them all looking at him. He had to clear this up, he had to get his brain in gear. He focussed on the pressure of Alan’s skull against his clavicle and forced himself to lift his eyes to meet those of his older brother…

… who stared back at him, his face bewildered and bloodless. Scott’s lips parted as if to speak but he didn’t seem any more capable of forming words than Virgil did.

“It’s been you with the clothes!” Gordon suddenly burst into the awkward silence. “I was blaming Grandma…”

Alan flushed and looked down again.

“I just… didn’t know how to help and I hoped it might… help.”

Big brother mode re-engaged, Scott put a hand back on Alan’s arm and offered firm reassurance without moving his eyes from Virgil for a moment.

“It did.”

Alan nodded, then buried his face back into Virgil’s shirt.

“I’m so sorry, Virgil”

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for, Allie.”

Virgil’s voice came out rather squeakier than he’d intended so he held his little brother close and swallowed hard.

He knew from observing both Scott and Gordon as they underwent therapy that it was supposed to be good to revisit this stuff - it was good to deliberately remember and to vocalise the things that haunted you… all of them. He’d reminded them often enough. Gordon had quite naturally found himself able to vent to Scott or to Virgil. Scott… well despite Virgil’s efforts he hadn’t let them in for a very long time, not until quite recently when circumstances forced his hand. Even now Virgil knew Scott’s instinct was to shield them from what was going on in his head, rather than let them help. But he had always spoken to his therapist and so Virgil had had to be content with that.

And Virgil had confided in… precisely nobody. Because really, compared to what they’d each been through... well. Dr Clifford had pointed out only a couple of hours ago that the same advice applied to him too - that eventually the acknowledging and the speaking would take the power of the memories away, the ones that lurked and gnawed at his very being.

But of all the times and places to start… the tiny incident Alan was torturing himself over was one of Virgil’s hardest moments. It had been the tipping point between the living nightmare he recalled and the one he… didn’t. The time reality caught up with him and he lost hope. The moment he had finally let go.

The moment he’d actually lost Scott.

And lost Virgil too.

But Alan didn’t know that, all the guilt-ridden child of his memories knew was he’d upset his brother, that after that Virgil hadn’t wanted to look after them anymore.

This really wasn’t the best time. He wasn’t quite sure he’d know how to put it into words when at his best and he definitely wasn’t. And he really, really needed to get this right. Because even putting therapeutic best practice aside, this wasn’t just about him anymore. It was about Alan, Scott… all of them.

“Ok. Ok, so… I guess I should explain some… uh… stuff.” Virgil’s voice was still shaky and he paused as he was suddenly hemmed in by a Gordon on one side and a John on the other. Scott dropped one of his hands from Alan’s to rest on Virgil’s foot. Thus surrounded, he found the words suddenly came a little easier.

“Allie… it really wasn’t your fault. Uh, I’m going to be honest, because you’re not an idiot but you have to hear me out… Right to the end, ok?”

Alan nodded and pressed the side of his face to Virgil’s chest. Scott hovered in front of him, looking stricken, but didn’t interfere.

“I still don’t remember a lot of it very well.” He used the back of his hand to wipe non-existent sweat from his forehead then ran his hand through his hair while trying to summon up the strength and focus to say this the right way.

“But I do remember that night quite clearly and, yeah I was… upset. Not with you, not really with you, but the circumstances and… yeah you’re right that was when I started to… lose my hold on… um, things.”

Alan closed his eyes and tightened his grip on Virgil’s shirt. Virgil watched his face for a moment, his heart squeezing as he noticed the depth of the shadows across his little brother’s cheekbones. He’d clearly been tormenting himself the last week or so and it had gone undetected. Cut from the same cloth as his eldest brother, said torment had clearly done a number on his sleep schedule.

“But, Alan you have to understand this, it wasn’t because of your little accident. If it hadn’t been that, it would have been something else… maybe something Dad said in passing, or something Gordon made for dinner, or looking at the colour of the sky and thinking how much Scott would have liked it.”

“But it WAS that. I made it happen. It was me messing up.”

“No, Allie, no. Listen to me, it happened… inevitably… because I wasn’t coping. I couldn’t do it. No, don’t look at me like that John, it’s true… I have a go at Scott for trying to do everything, be everything but I’m such a hypocrite because when it was my turn I tried to be Scott AND be Mom AND Dad all at the same time and I didn’t know how to… be me? Without…. Without Scott, you know? I didn’t give myself even a moment to work that out because I was scared I wasn’t enough on my own and so… I kind of pretended he was coming back still and it all had to be… ok… when he did come back… and so….” John’s fingers had tightened almost imperceptibly on his shoulder and with a little start Virgil realised he was still verbalising all these thoughts and everyone was looking at him.

He cleared his throat.

“Uh, anyway. The point is it wasn’t you, Allie. It wasn’t working. I was barely sleeping, wasn’t really eating. I knew it at the time but didn’t admit it because I thought I was letting Scott down… because I promised him to always look after you all, no matter what.”

There was a quiet moan from his older brother and Virgil suddenly had absolute clarity about what he was going to say next. Because Scott needed to hear this. They all did.

“The thing is Allie… the thing is… Sometimes people ask you to make promises that… aren’t fair. Promises that are so much bigger than they seem at the time. And when that person is gone, if the promise isn’t really possible… if it isn’t healthy to try to keep it… well... What I should have done is asked myself what Scott would have told me to do.”

He looked up and met his big brother’s eyes which were shining with unshed tears.

“You should have taken care of yourself! You shouldn’t have burned yourself out for me. I never wanted that, I never meant to ask that! I’m so sorry, Virgil.”

“I know you didn’t. And I should have then too, I was just too busy trying to do everything and be good enough to let myself think about it.”

Virgil waited, watching the emotions flicker across Scott’s face, wondering when the penny would drop. He’d know when it did, in some ways his brother would always be an open book to him.

Ever such a slight widening of blue eyes and then an almost but not quite concealed frown in his direction told Virgil his point had landed and that more words would inevitably be exchanged on the subject.

Later. He’d deal with that later.

For now, he could almost feel the adrenaline dissipating and for once he allowed himself to drift without complaint. He knew he couldn’t go far this time, grounded as he was by the not insignificant weight in his arms and held up by the unrelenting affection on every side.

[iztea]

hello iz ik it's such a cliche question and idk if you've already answered that but- how do you learnt drawing humans??? like everyone says practice but i don't know how and i struggle so much :( thanks already for answering!! i really really love your art

hi!

the very regulated, academic, objectively correct bs answer: learn the fundamentals, study and practice!

the unhinged, off-the-counter, cool uncle from your dad's side of the family answer:

Imo, the best way to learn how to draw on your own is to reference and study other people's art. There is no need for you to reinvent the wheel, and if you are a beginner and have no idea what you're doing, tackling multiple fundamentals at once can overwhelm and demotivate you quite a lot. So, for your morale and motivation, I think it is totally okay to just observe multiple artworks from multiple artists and engage with them critically ( * N.B. : artistS - plural; by referencing multiple works, you lower the risk of accidentally becoming a copycat or locking yourself into an art style that will never be as good as the original because it was not yours)

What I mean by critically engaging with an artwork is to analyze how they're tackling difficult body parts that you struggle with. For example, let's say you can't/don't know how to draw legs. Look at a picture of a real human leg, observe how someone else has simplified that leg form and anatomy, and then try to recreate it. Don't just copy their linework 1 to 1. That is not the point. Do it your own way, incorporate aspects of others' art that you like, and make them yours. You should have 5++ references of that leg from 5++ different artists. There are maany people out there who post their studies online, raw sketches or structural drawings (TB Choi comes to mind for example). Look for people like them, and if you can't find someone, then Pinterest is your bff. When learning how to draw, hunting the internet for how people sketch >>> rendered art. If speedpaints are more your thing, then youtube has you covered. Personally, I've learned more from a 20 min speedpaint with nightcore bgm and zero annotations from some guy that doesnt even speak english that has 300 views than I've learned from 10 min long art tutorials from fluent english speakers with 1 mil views. At the end of the day, we can yap and theorise as much as we want, but it's the act of drawing that brings results and seeing how other people draw is sometimes worth a thousand words.

> References in general also help a lot. I can't tell you how many times I was too lazy to look something up and spent 14235 hours trying to draw it off the top of my head only to have it done in 10 minutes once I finally gave in and pulled up a reference. So yeah, always use references. Don't be like me this is actually a bad habit

Okay, but how to /use/ that reference if you're a beginner? Very simple: draw on top of it ( *Do Not trace the outlines, that's pointless if you actually want to learn something). Draw guidelines over the body parts, deconstruct and simplify the ref into just boxes and lines ( always think in 3D ). This will help a lot with keeping the proportions in check. You can start by drawing those guidelines first and then get into details. Kinda like in sculpture: you start with a big block of a rock, and then you slowly carve and build form and then detail. The more you draw, the less you will need those guidelines as you get a feeling for the proportions yourself and will no longer need this step.

Once you become more confident in your skills or have a "sense" for drawing and you are in too deep to just give up after hitting your first wall, then you can tackle the scary intimidating stuff that is art fundamentals ( or you can do them simultaneously, all I'm trying to say is to never forget that you are not the only drawer in the world; looking in your neighbor's yard is totally okay within the reasons of common sense ). You don't have to raise and milk a cow it to make butter, you can just buy it from the store. If you want to bake a cake, a beginner chef will use store-bought cake mix because they have no idea how to cook. Once they learn the science behind baking (because it really is a science) they will buy their own ingredients and then improve or personalize the cake with better, well-researched ingredients, they will add their own twist, flavours, adjust the macros, perfect the technique and so on.

This is how I've personally learned how to draw by myself bc I'm self-taught and didn't care for formalities as it's just a hobby of mine that I do for fun. If you want proper advice you should probably listen to more qualified people but I can only preach what I practice.. Anywayssss hope it helped!!

[thestartarot]

Aquarius North Node / Leo South Node analysis

My own observations, take what resonates.

18 y/o and over due to sensitive topic nature. Thank you.

Trailblazers, we are entering age of Aquarius.

Soul color: blue

Destiny point: to build a society that allows your liberty to be upheld and keeps the people around you safe. To overcome societal norms by being their authentic self. Find middle ground in all manners of life. Discover creativity. Discover equality. Acceptance despite differences.

How to overcome: Be your own self and live in your own truth. Be Aquarius, don’t reject it. Don’t repress who you are and anything that is associated with inauthenticity like lying, cheating, or overtly objectifying yourself and others. Love yourself and people for the facets of who they are. Society brings structure and hope. Build your own moral code that points you in a direction of good. Use your thoughts as modes of creative expression instead of internalizing them and feeling jaded.

Full disclosure: this really is a wild turkey placement. Childhood will vary dramatically. There are certain threads that are shared in different generations of this placement. I will discuss those. I have frequently said this is also a polarizing placement and mental health needs to be a top priority. I’m going to discuss the polarity associated with Aquarians. In a simple way to demonstrate a complexity, imagine the concept of Aquarius as a line. On one side, there’s one extreme it falls to when depressed or under developed, on the other side, we see the Aquarian at its best living its truest self. It’s important to pay attention to how you are feeling and learn ways to self soothe (hot bath, go get a coffee, put on a skincare mask)

Isolation, Stoic,

Unemotional,

Deeply traumatized

Society and people

Become means of control

And a source of pain &

Pleasure

<——————————————————————————>

Unhealthy mindset A true libertine

When developed, Aquarians want people to embrace themselves, want a society where one can be accepted. In private, loves to enjoy themselves. Society and people are objects to be understood and admired. Fairness.

So the Aquarian already living in a very polarizing existence all the time and very inwardly (unlike Gemini who demonstrates polarizing mentalities outwardly.) Honestly, it’s an air sign thing. Y’all think so much you create different modes of thought all running at the same time and frequency and sometimes these modes aren’t too grounded in reality.

My moon is in Aquarius, and it squares off with some very important planets which is why I take my own mental health seriously, there are many ways I relate. - I struggle in social situations and sometimes I feel like I’m in a constant state of being misunderstood or disenfranchised by the people around me. It’s okay, to feel disconnected from society, but there are slippery slopes to that and particularly this placement (edit: 08/10/24)

Childhood: really varies for everyone with this placement. The most common thread I see is a hunt for the innermost & sometimes primal need for success & fulfillment in whatever that looks like for the individual. Success can be happiness, it can be owning a house of their own with a beautiful partner, being great at one’s job. However, success happens when working collectively and this placement may have felt indifferent socially. Childhood may have been stressful because of a lot of inner repression. Possibly conflicting beliefs or attitudes with family members. A lot of outer resentment towards the world because of coming into a world in active war time. The Leo South Node feels discouraged and disconnected because something is stealing the torch (war, politics, social inequalities, fundamental rights but society not granting those.) So the Aquarius in this placement at birth is a gift but also was born under uncertainty making society feel quite scary and uncomfortable. Parents or parental figures (lots of extended family dynamics, unusual or drifter upbringing) were just trying to get by too and they wanted you to fit in but they couldn’t always concentrate on you and when you weren’t perfect upon random inspection, you may have been punished (grounding, abuse). They need good teachers. Aspecting planets or houses may change this but at some point may have had more fascinations of death in the general sense of the word. There will be many hurdles to overcome in childhood and adulthood. You may feel lost. Always feeling like you are in a crowd. Or never seen. The Leo south node in this placement daydreams of fame and not having responsibility. The battle of finding one’s place in society, feeling misunderstood, and isolated can lead to substance abuse disorder / dissociations very young. The polarity in this placement will need lots of love and care because despite the mental framework, the Aquarian wants to succeed and thinks a lot about how to be the best. So, I stress mental health and great teachers. This placement often gets the “tough luck” approach.

Possibly experienced one too many early passings of childhood friends.

Adulthood: Aquarius is one of the most dominant signs in my personal opinion because I see the sign so heavily pronounced in culture and eras of time making it an undeniable Renegade. An Artist. A visionary. The inspiration in the stars. A moody and rebellious lost soul forced to live in the world alone. I have a theory that the innate liberty of Aquarius inspires the Leo to move towards the collective instead of the controlling. An Aquarian can manipulate the environment around you and the environment can manipulate the Aquarian into feeding their delusions. The Aquarian sign here can feel so detached from reality because they are so focused on the social framework around them and how to navigate it, they might not develop their natural talents that Leo south node came bursting in with. The most important thing stressed here is Aquarius is such a fixed sign that the intensity of your presence can cause people to go through changes. It’s not your fault, you are very statuesque and people are moved in emotion by you. Take it in stride. Don’t take it as an attack. The only way you are going to move forward is to be vulnerable and not feel shame. In this vulnerability is where you will shine and find your creative light.

Early and perhaps untimely deaths are associated with this placement and it may be because death does seem to follow them in the shadows. & usually at their own hand, drugs, or someone else’s. Y’all be safe you agents of change! The 27 club has presence here.

10 celebrities to unalive young with NN in Aquarius

Kurt Cobain

Heath Ledger

Janis Joplin

Jimi Hendrix

Brittany Murphy

Bruce Lee

Brandon Lee

James Dean

Aaliyah

River Phoenix (List credited to ChatGPT)

How to overcome: be your authentic self, don’t let society determine who you are and who you can’t be. Let the bare bones of truth be your armor. In healthy ways, be involved in society. Watch out for the polarity you have to deal with and don’t let the Leo south node be too consuming and too angry, use the creativity that comes with Leo to express your emotions. Take caution of those around you, people often like to dominate the Aquarius because the intensity in their presence can come off as a threat.

If I had three tarot cards to throw at this placement, it would be Death, The Star, and Judgement. Don’t let being an outsider turn you astray, be creative and use that philosophical and fantastical mind to good use. You’re great!!!

I stress mental health (journaling specifically, take note of song ^^) and to further emphasize the polarity and repression in this placement, here are five serial killers with a North Node in Aquarius:

Ted Bundy

Jeffrey Dahmer

Edmund Kemper

John Wayne Gacy

Richard Ramirez (List Credit to ChatGPT)

***all of these trash piles are aspected by Saturn in an earth sign.

So we have Kurt Cobain and John Wayne Gacy in the same sign, both experiencing tragic death. Kurt uplifted so many people while the other was pure trash. The reason is, Kurt Cobain was more successful at expressing his truth, rip forever. Placements should not use substances. Therapy advised if feeling disenfranchised, would look into counseling.

Final thoughts, Aquarius is a beautiful sign that wants to be happy and free. Leo wants Aquarius to bloom. What is dished out to this sign will be dished back out out 10 fold. But, the struggle will be, does one embrace the collective society or does one let society consume them and act cynical and cruel? When Aquarian placements learn how to love in a healthy manner, they are great lovers.

Also, keep in mind that everything I’m writing is opinion and not fact and this placement and your Saturn placement could be beneficial and make all of this irrelevant. That’s why I said it’s a wild turkey &&& also nothing takes precedence over experience and faith.

— Casper

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