#and I know objectively... those aren't the person I care for's words

[sehtoast]

sometimes I want to post stuff I've written while in the feels but I also worry about clogging the blog with irrelevant stuff

I guess I'll rant in the tags but sometimes I try to do therapeutic writing and it helps but s i g h

[buckgasms]

Ok let's talk about Dark!Cowboy Bucky shall we......

Expect dark themes ahead y'all 🧡

Here's what I'm thinking:

He is a bounty hunter in the early days of the wild west and sadly you have a bounty out on you.

Maybe you were caught up in a crime but you are really innocent, but no one seems to care about a young woman, or the truth for that matter.

You already felt like the unluckiest person on earth, but when you overhear in a bar one night that the infamous bounty hunter Bucky Barnes is looking for a pretty little runaway, your stomach churns. And it hasn't stopped since.

🧭

Bucky hates the rain. It makes things so much harder. His horse is more grumpy and less willing to obey. People don't hang about to share tidbits of information. It's harder to get a drink.

However, it also makes his prey act silly. Especially pretty girls on the run. They aren't made for the rain. And they are so easy to spot, running across open fields in a dirty white dress, seeking shelter in a barn.

He chivves his horse onward, a wry smile on his face.

🧭

You are sitting on a bale of hay, wringing out your hair when you hear a horse approaching. Your blood runs cold as you hear the door open. You dash as quietly as you can into a dark corner and hold your breath as a man walks his horse in, talking to it gently as he guides it into a stall.

He removes his hat, gloves and shrugs off his wet coat.

"I know you're in his little darlin'"

Your eyes widen and you squeeze your arms tight to keep you from moving.

""If you come out now, it'll be easier. I'll put in a good word for ya..."

You debate it, but you can see him through a hole in the wood. And his face, however handsome, is plastered with a cruel smile. You don't believe him.

He huffs after a moment of silence. Looking around the barn, assessing how good it'll be for the night. He sits down and starts running a thin rope through his fingers.

"Gettin impatient now sweetheart... Don't like to be kept waitin..."

You shiver in the cold, your body dripping with sweat and rain. Maybe you could run out while he was distracted? You were pretty fast and you really had nothing to lose at this point.

You took a quiet, shuddering breath before dashing out from your hiding space. Despite feeling the wood of the barn door it was futile.

A tight, sharp object wrapped around your ankle and you felt the floor give way beneath you. You managed to roll over and watched as he dragged you backwards, pain tearing though your limbs as you were pulled along the floor.

"There you are" he mutters, pressing his boot onto your tummy, as he looks down at you. You suppose it would be to prevent you from fidgeting, but you are frozen in fear.

"My, my. Those wanted posters don't do you justice little darlin'. Don't quite capture that pretty face..."

You whimper as he kneels down, starting to wrap the rope around your other leg to tie you together, before looping it around your wrists.

"Please... Please sir I didn't do anything. It's a big mistake. Please...?"

He ties you off with a bow and chuckles. "Oh I know. I'm not as stupid as your neighbours, thinking a little flower like you could be involved in a bank robbery. Fuckin' dumb as hell..."

Your relief at his statement is short lived when he stands up and leaves you on the floor.

"Well then... Can't you help me? Let me go?" You wriggle and writhe, trying to keep him in your eyeline. Maybe he could be reasoned with?

He chuckles and sits himself on a bale. "Well I did think that, but there are two problems. First is that I've been chasing you for 5 days, in a storm and you've kinda pissed me off..."

You gulp, tears pricking at your eyes as he smiles at you.

"And the other problem is, now that I've gotcha, I don't think I wanna let you go."

You let out a shaky sob, squeezing your eyes shut, hoping as you have for many times in the past week, that this is all a dream. When you hear his boot scuff near your head you know it isn't. He kneels down next to you and takes your face gently between his hand and turns you to look at him.

"All I keep thinking is how I'm ready to retire, head up to my little cabin and have a pretty little housewife all to myself. Cook my dinners and have my babies hmm?"

Your eyes glisten as he talks, blurring vision as you begin to panic. You shake your head and mumble a weak 'no'. It makes him tut and squeeze your cheeks tighter.

"I know darlin', you're gonna fight me ain't ya? God knows you don't do anything the easy way huh? It's ok though. I'll have you convince by mornin'."

🧭

Convinced might be simplifying the situation, but by morning you are certainly not putting up a fight anymore.

Overnight as the storm raged outside he took you apart piece by piece. There was no part of your body that was now foreign to him.

He'd carefully removed your dress and kissed you all over. It was almost like a lover would. Sucking and biting gently at your soft skin, leaving marks all over you.

You shout and cry as loud as you can but he just smothers your cries with kisses. You tried to roll away, fight despite your bound state but he just chuckled and rolled you back where he wanted you.

He'd gotten very cross though when you tried to keep him from your heat. He'd had to find more rope to tie you open and spanked your heat until you were red and puffy.

"Wives aren't supposed to hide what belongs to their husbands darlin'. So don't you be hidin' from me..."

He resumed his gentler approach after, claiming your body with unexpected softness, kissing your tears away and praising you for taking him so well.

Hours passed and he barely relented. He let you rest a little, providing you with drink and a warm blanket. You slept when you could but were often woken by his lust, kisses and bites on your neck and chest.

"God you're beautiful yknow? So good for me... You gonna be my little housewife? Let me hide you away?"

He smiled wide when you nod. What else could you do?

I literally couldn't say no....

[beggars-opera]

You hate classic lit because:

Your were forced to read it in high school, and no one likes to be forced to do anything in school

Your teacher failed to explain that important things aren't always objectively enjoyable

Your class was focused on picking the book apart at the expense of appreciating the story or, more importantly, the context of the book and why you should care

You think that the book has to be relevant and nonthreatening to you to be worth reading

I had an English teacher in high school tell me word for word that Charles Dickens was the filet mignon of literature, and that my class clearly only liked hot dogs. I had another teacher ask me what I thought the meaning of a poem was and then told me that my interpretation was objectively wrong.

But I've also seen other teachers explaining what made a book a classic, why people at the time loved it, what new ideas or writing styles it pioneered, or what historical events it inspired. And I've read, throughout my life, plenty of classics without the constraints of an educational setting, and thoroughly enjoyed them. Hell, I've taken Les Miserables to the beach.

There have also been books that I have read and not enjoyed! Sometimes they had themes that I hated, but as a historian I can put those themes in context and still learn from the work as a whole. Sometimes I just didn't like the story, but I can accept that my ideal plotline doesn't always mesh with that of an average person in 1788. I also know when books feel disjointed because they were originally serialized, or paid by the word, or written in a dialect and culture not my own. And now I'm an adult, and I can choose to finish them or put them down.

The point is I encourage you to revisit books you once had to read and hated, or books you never had to read but have avoided because they fall in the same category. As an adult you get to make your own choices and form your own opinions, and that freedom allows you to dive as deeply or shallowly into literature as you want. You may never like War and Peace, but you might also find that you enjoy more than you thought you would.

[betterthanakickintheface]

Speaking as a white person... No, people of colour and wanting to be listened to, believed, valued, consulted, and protected in the countries they live in, and are citizens of(I'm Canadian, but I feel like it's all still Very applicable) -daaaaring to be any kind of vocal about how that doesn't happen and how they are, you know, VERY UNDERSTANDABLY not fucking happy about that are NOT the problem

To feel so comfortable saying so just demonstrates how far up your own clearly racist ass you are, no one who wasn't would double down and reiterate that astoundingly wrong opinion again but with more words

And "zero concrete examples"?? You've got some effective fucking blinders on if you can say that and believe it but think that white people's love of moving the goal posts for, and pseudo-intellectualizing away concerns, struggles and very real dangers to REAL PEOPLE who just aren't you/us isn't a very real and hugely documented, and far-reaching problem you're literally just stupid

There is no other way you can look at or hear people sharing their perspective on their own fucking lives and what is important to them as a person who is *specifically* not white and is not interested - and nor should they be - in being told to shut up, keep waiting 'their turn', quiet down, that their extremely valid and NECESSARY voices and experiences get summarily dismissed as "inane" because white people just can't fucking stop deciding that every single discussion about how white people and whiteness have done and continue to do SO much damage is about them specifically and personally that they at "best" allow their discomfort to not only often ignore objective facts about how AT THE VERY LEAST the vast majority of white people and peoples have historically been Very Shitty Indeed to peoples of colour, even people they just think of as 'not as good a white as us *insert north, western, or central European nations especially here*' but also to override or bypass sympathy, empathy, compassion or even willingness to fucking listen to them about their lives to the point that we white people shut anything not complimentary to us down. We are so fucking fragile that we can't seem to fucking get that not everything is about us, for us, concern us, have to include us and it fucking shouldn't have to. Especially when all we seem interested in is having access to any and all spaces so that we can pretend that "no, everyone else is actually wrong about things they-as a group have all professed to have experienced".

Like... Seemingly one of our favourite fucking things to do is brag about supposedly having friends of different ethnicities and cultures to anyone who will listen, so why do so many of us not fucking listen to them??? Why do so many of us then also not care or believe those friends?? Try to help? Aren't they your friends, OUR friends?? Even if it's a hard pill to swallow, why do so many of us white people actively stand in the way of supporting things that will help our friends, partners, family, coworkers(not to mention children, whether connected to you as an individual or not)?? If our friends and loved ones, wider communities are helped, provided for, listened to does that not also benefit us needy white people too by extension of being in the same potentially improving society that doesn't continue to waste so much fucking time and energy on keeping entire peoples down because white people are either insecurity and hate.

White people have been the "not all men" people who get mad when sexual harassment comes up; and yeah, most people know and believe that but that(usually unnecessary) distinction ultimately is diminishing, dismissing and ignoring the point of the matter which is that the generalized statement and belief that "men do sexual harassment" is because so many people have had those kinds of unpleasant interactions or experience, often repeatedly. Even if they were not talking about you specifically, and you've never done anything misogynistic or worse THEY have enough negative experiences with other men that that statement is true to them even if you find it hard to believe.

White people do that whenever anyone says anything about how we have in the past, but also continue to treat people of colour like shit. Like yeah, no shit not all white people are feral racists, just like not all men are creeps... But I dunno if enough people are saying that "more than a few(separate, unrelated, individual) white people have said/done/legislated negative things to and against me" maybe we should fucking SHUUUUT UUUUUP and believe them?? acknowledge that even if we, as individual white people have never knowingly or intentionally been racist there is still clearly A PROBLEM because we keep being told it is a problem.

So yeah, it's very much white people that have held us all back, even the progressive ones because we cant get out of our own way. And when soooo many of us demonstrably have been unable(or unwilling) to even recognize that, let alone do anything to change it it fucking ruins lives in a very real way and if you can't see that...you yourself are part of the problem with white leftists and progressives

**as a white person, and an untagged-by-OP one at that, I totally understand if you'd prefer I remove my addition to your post, in which case I absolutely will 🖤

Every white leftist should read this

[waitingtobreatheagain]

You know what I hate real real bad?

How people mischaracterize Colin (they do the same to Pen but I am going to make that a separate post for her) when we have proof that directly goes against their claims.

"Colin did not see Pen as worthy"

"Colin did not have love for/care for Pen/or pay attention to her until season 3"

"Colin does not truly love her it's only lust"

I understand having your own opinion but there are times when the opinion is OBJECTIVELY WRONG. I also don't like how folks have chosen to do this to likely the kindest male lead we'll have who expressed his love for his partner CONSTANTLY and CONSISTENTLY.

Those aren't the only things I've heard or seen but they are among the biggest misconceptions. Outside of not realizing the extent of his feelings for Pen until a catalyst (the first kiss, while we also see in the first two episodes moments that are also leading up to the realization), it is and has never been that he sees Pen as unworthy he sees HIMSELF as unworthy. WE see this even after he knows that she returns his feelings which he did not even know until the carriage. After the carriage and even while he is working through the LW reveal, he still does not feel worthy of her which is a big part of Pen reminding him in words and actions that being him makes him more than worthy. We see how worthy he sees her when he tells her to never forget that SHE is Penelope Featherington. We also see it when he is absolutely puzzled during the first kiss scene at the fact that Pen sees herself in such a self-deprecating way. He can not even imagine a life for her that is not reflecting the very best.

Next, Colin is arguably the main person we see show a genuine interest in Pen as well as truly treasuring her in his life. From dancing with her in a protective fashion after Cressida through a drink at her, having conversation together where they are the only people who get what they are saying and what it means, getting involved with Jack's plot in order to protect Pen and by extension the Featheringtons because that is Pen's family, writing to her and seeing her correspondence as his most treasured, laughing with each other on multiple occasions, seeking her out for either conversation or a dance no matter what whenever they come across each other at a social gathering. I could go on and that's just in the first two seasons. Not showing romantic interest does not mean that he did not deeply love and care for her. Colin and Pen mutually made each other feel seen and understood in a way in no one else did...is that not an expression of love? If Colin had not already treated Pen in the way he had she likely would not have fallen so deeply in love with him. Colin being so loving, caring, kind, understanding, interested in Pen and what she had going on, and much more also plays a role in why she is able to forgive him for his thoughtless comment last season. He reflects the character we have known him to be towards the end of S3 E1 when we see a genuine apology where he takes accountability tells Pen how much she means to him and seeks out how he can make up for his mistake.

Lastly, the Colin does not love her and only lusts for her is just not even kind of true. We are talking about the same man who has expressed his love (whether via 'i love yous', in his words, actions, looks, closeness, etc.) for his partner so so so often and in such a way we likely will never see with another pairing. This the man who would prefer sleep than to be awake because in his dreams they were in love and together. The same man where his whole world was topsy turvy following his realization of those same feelings. The same man whose dream about Pen that STARTED with Pen returning his feelings of love for her then led to a hot makeout. The same man who put it all on the floor and said societal rules be damned (as he always did with her) because even if it was unrequited he was going to let Pen know just how much he loved her and wanted to be with her...to show her that one person in her life would be willing to fight her no matter the opponent or cost because she would always be worth it. The same man who stood up to her mother to show that she would no longer be allowed to treat the love of his life in such an ugly way. The same man who expresses his love for Pen without ceasing and even when we did not hear the expressions as much (while working through the LW reveal and his own insecurities). The same man who turned his fianceé around so that she could only day see and believe everything he loved about her for herself. The same man who put so much intention into their first time so that it reflected something they were doing together. The same man who was so in love enamored and joyful to be with the love of his life that it felt like his first time. The same man who even when never considered not marrying Pen even at his most heartbroken and angriest DUE to how much he loved her and knowing and believing that she felt the same. The same man who when he sees her come down the aisle he forgets everything else and only thinks about how lucky he is to marry his favorite person, his best friend, and the love of his life. The same man who has given us arguably the most touching love confession that will be so hard to beat because he expresses not only how much loves and admires Pen; he expresses what he was struggling with (how he overcame it and reframed it) and how he realized that his ultimate joy and privilege in this one life he gets to live is to be able to love and be loved by her. The love is on display in countless ways. While we also know that they match each other's freak real bad and have palpable passion and desire for each other...the love is and has always been the center even before they knew the love was requited.

I don't know which Colin Bridgerton alot of folks saw but it was not the one we have seen from season 1, 2, or 3. Do you have to love Colin/Pen/Polin/or their story with your whole heart like me? Of course not. I can't allow the blatant and incorrect character assassination though. Turn your brains on, I beg.

[olderthannetfic]

I have really mixed feelings about the small proportion of F/F fiction (original or fanfic), because yeah sure, people have their desires, they should write what they want, I get it. It all works out when I hear it from person to person. But somehow the logic only ever applies in one direction? "There are more male protagonists because men only care about male characters! Women also mostly care about male characters, because that's the majority of characters they get!" And then somehow we also yet kvetch when men write female characters (because it's incorrectly or something, nevermind if women are writing male characters correctly). Why don't we expect gay men to feel compelled only by femslash for the same reasons (but gender swapped) as the lesbian slashers/fujoshi? All of those very rational justifications are applied selectively, "for me for not for thee," and it all only leads to "idk I just don't wanna write femslash", for Reasons. Do we get to call them microaggressions yet?

--

No, you don't get to call other people's fantasy life a microaggression.

That is indeed "for me but not for thee" in the sense that you get to want what you want but other people aren't supposed to follow their id.

Do you also police gay men who spend too much time on drag and obsessing over female divas? That's an actual real world behavior that's somewhat equivalent. It frequently goes unchallenged, at least by progressives, because men are allowed to do whatever they want with chick stuff, while women are "stealing" if they dare to stray into dude stuff.

(God, I've seen so much more policing of drag kings being ~problematic~ for acting out stereotypical gender than policing of drag queens for the same. It's nuts!)

Fujoshi are often queer, but it's absurd to think we're mostly lesbians. We tend to be bi or asexual women with gender stuff going on, though there is a mix of everybody, including lesbians. There are also a lot of AFAB non-women who get lumped in with us. On the rare occasions I find a man willing to admit to being a similar demographic, he usually does like gender play in his hobbies and entertainment. It's just that men face even more pressure than women do to fit into tidy categories. Bi women get told we're whores. Bi men are told they don't exist.

Yes, I know plenty of lesbians who write more m/m than f/f, but in the big picture of all of AO3 or all of fanfic or all of media, they aren't the demographic driving these numbers. They're vastly outnumbered by the bi women, the asexual women, and the straight and gnc women.

The men we should be looking at as an equivalent aren't cis gay men but bicurious soy boys and the like.

Do most of us fujoshi object to equivalent men doing an equivalent thing? I've seen it sometimes, and I agree it's hypocritical. I'd like us to afford men the same ability to play and take on identities in their art. I remember enjoying Ranma fandom back in the day and reading quite a lot of f/f that was probably by men. It had some of that same sense of distance and fantasy that I so enjoy in m/m aimed at fujoshi. (I do consume some by-cis-gay, for-cis-gay content, both m/m and f/f, but it's often too literal and too bound up in specific named identities for my taste.)

On average, the people I see complaining most about men producing f/f material are the same people who think that because I have a clit, I should center my life around women exclusively. In other words, people spouting radfem ideology, perhaps on purpose or perhaps without realizing.

I do agree that some of the ways of expressing a lack of desire to write femslash can get pretty douchey. I want us to move away from some of the less accurate ones like "There are no compelling female characters" because of this.

But the reason for all these jerkass explanations is that women and people perceived as women who like m/m are constantly asked to explain ourselves. These aren't usually microaggressions: they're openly hostile. People get defensive and try to answer with important-sounding reasons about identity and pain because society at large won't accept "I like this" as the true explanation.

Pleasure is never enough of a reason for a woman to do something.

[theprettynosferatu]

Good evening. Please, get comfortable. Don't worry, there is nothing you need to do right now. Nothing at all but rub and just let me speak to you. Through you. Beyond whatever delusions of self you have created in order to pretend you are more than what you are.

Let us take a little look under the hood, so to speak. There are so many weak spots, shining inside that pretty little head of yours- like jewels, just ready to be mined, refined, repurposed. You might wonder, in that dreamy sort of way, where my signature pink lines are. You know that trick, don't you? Making your mind focus on specific words or images to slowly wear you down, to implant those seeds inside you so they may grow into beautiful, twisted vines of depravity.

Well, you're not getting them.

Not because I am above manipulating you in such a manner; we both know that is what you crave. Well, you're not getting them because you crave them. I want you as lucid as you can be for this. I want you longing for me to put my fingers right inside that brain of yours and shift a few things. Move some ideals around. Weaken some morals. Strengthen some fantasies.

Not tonight, I'm afraid. Tonight, I reap.

And what is here, in the wasteland of what once was a semi-functioning mind? Jewels. But one in particular stands out. It shines so, so brightly. Let us look at it together, shall we?

The thing about jewels is that they have so many sides to them. Take this one, for instance. Your desire to be remade into a mindless, pathetic, dreamy fuckdoll. It looks like such a powerful desire from this side... but turn it around and what do we see?

Do you notice how the "fuckdoll" part gets dimmer? How the trappings of fantasy disappear and leave behind only the longing to not be a person? To relinquish those awful responsibilities and the anxiety that comes with them? How much you want to be an object? That you want to be a sex object doesn't seem so important, does it? No, what matters is the sweet oblivion of, simply, not thinking.

And look here, just tilting it a bit. The "doll" comes back. You want to be beautiful. Desired, yes- but still just an object. A trophy to display, to cherish and take care of, to ignore when not in use. A gorgeous statue. Just a piece of art. Nothing more.

And yet, with just the slightest movement, a new side reveals itself. You want to be useful. Why, I wonder. Probably because you feel lost. Adrift. Unappreciated. But with direction from a superior, all you have to do is obey and feel the pride that comes with fulfilling a goal- minus the pressures of setting that goal yourself. Something tells me you have been made to feel you aren't enough quite a bit.

Now, let me put this back. We wouldn't want you to deprive you of your messed up kinks, would we?

So many sides, so many angles to each of your sick fantasies... and every one of them is a road into your brain. Perhaps you don't like posting pictures of yourself online. That would be exposing too much. But your mind? It might as well be naked, spread-eagled, ready to be conquered.

Thank you for the map into your deepest self.

I shall be roaming those paths shortly.

And you won't even know it.

[destinationtrekk]

I want a long explanation of Albert's mental state after re5, you know....ummm, I mean, how much does his behavior and actions change? How will he feel about himself? Will he suffer from depression or such disorders? How will be his relationship with the reader?

I hope I didn't bother you ❤️❤️

awh, asks are never a bother!! wi will say I think @nshtn is much better at describing wesker's psyche than me, but my version of post re5!wesker (i call him uroboros!wesker) is different than theirs.

also holy shit this is 1200 words, i don't know what happened

i think immediately after re5, there's no change. physiclly, he's incredibly weak and in near-constant pain as uroboros heals him. you dote on him religiously, desperate to keep him alive as well, and this is what begins his mental shift. it does take a few months, but he slowly comes to realize how much he needs you past his surface level sexual desire and trust in you as a "lackey" basically

not that he never felt affection for you, but he certainly labelled it as something superficial - what one would feel for a pet, perhaps. now that he has nothing to do except sit around and feel sorry for himself and struggle with his feelings toward his own virus in his body, he feelings for you morph quite a bit.

but first, his self-perception. after spending his life comparing himself and those around him to Spencer, he had a serious ego problem and god-complex. he literally calls himself a god in re5, and gods don't lose the game - except he did. i think wesker sees the world as pretty black and white. you're either an asset or an enemy, worthy or a waste, and the only time in his life when this mindset fractured was in stars.

he saw many, many people as an officer who made genuine mistakes that put them in awful situations - criminals who were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and victims who just wanted a way out. he finally had a glimpse of humanity's reality, that regular people had to fight to survive like he did, except they get to be happy when they survive something. he never had that. it was survive or fail, and you don't get to be happy about it when your only other option is to die. i think marcus' death absolutely had to do something to his psyche as well, definitely as a motivator to 'stay on the path paved for you, and be obedient, or bad things will happen."

so in stars he feels conflicted emotions about the reality of his childhood, but they're temporary and quickly get repressed again as his life goes on. they resurface post-re5 because he sees how you interact with others, and he really has nothing else to do except to think about it.

this obsession with analyzing his own upbringing couples rather poorly with his feelings for you, now fully fledged as romantic and devoted. of course, he refuses to say anything. he now believes that he's worthless, a failure, and his life's work has been utterly destroyed. wesker is the kind of person who needs a goal and clear objectives, and without them he feels like he'll drown in his own thoughts. which is exactly what he's doing!

you notice his odd behavior immediately, from the way he refuses compliments that used to make him cocky, and how he rarely (if ever) asks you for anything. you were basically his assistant before, and now he apologizes for even having a harsh tone with you. he can't fathom how you care so deeply for a failure like him, and why you aren't using helping to save his life against him. because that's what people do, right? they take and give and everything has to be a favor that helps you climb to the top.

well, you never actually cared about him being on the top, so you take it upon yourself to confess first. surely he's always known how you felt about him, smirking at your blushing reactions and lusty stares, but he reacts bad when you finally tell him. he thinks this is how you're making him repay for saving his life, by humiliating and debasing him for his romantic attachment to you.

this is a shock to you, because you thought he was moping out of self-pity, not a midlife, self-exploratory bout of depression. it hurts both of your feelings - he thinks you've played him by being kind for something in return, and you're heartbroken that the man you love doesn't trust you anymore.

it takes a while for him to come around. you double down on your affection and explanations, trying to dismantle his fragile mindset piece by piece. he's resistant, somehow convincing himself that he's trapped in some sick mind game that you're manipulating, because he's too thick to just give in. he doesn't know how to accept love or, frankly, get the fuck over himself. yes, he failed. yes, his life's work is kind of ruined. but he has a new lease on life, if he would just accept it.

what finally pulls him out of this spiral is a kiss. you've been pleading with him for days, trying to get him to just talk to you and work this out, because you can't keep living in this emotional hell. he's snippy and rude and exhausted, because he feels the same. he can't bear to be around you anymore, so he tells you to leave him the hell alone. you're in his new office, having switched safe houses a few times until you could finally settle, and this most recent, permanent move is why you've been so upset.

why does he think you're sticking around? he still has access to nearly all of his resources, if he really wanted you gone he could leave without telling you. he's well healed now, except for a few things he'll likely deal with forever, but he's keeping you around. he knows he can't let go of you, but he's still so resistant to everything you're offering.

he's standing hunched over his desk, hands white-knuckling the dark mahogany, broad shoulders and back facing you so he can hide him expression from you. his voice is strained, like he's barely holding himself together while you're openly crying. this is unbearable, but you comply with his wishes.

your last move is to walk closer, your hand lightly settling on his elbow while you press your forehead to his bicep, seeking any tiny sliver of comfort you can find in him. you leave a gentle kiss on his arm, as well as a wet patch of your tears, before you walk away, silent except the heartbreaking sound of your sniffling.

this shatters him. he spends the rest of the day destroying himself, but he vows it's the last time he'll wallow in misery. it takes time, but he slowly begins to open up to you, admitting to his poor mental health and struggles with finding purpose. how he can't fathom your love for him, but he can't fight his own attachment to you either. he cries when you kiss his lips for the first time, but he fails to hide his smile when you pull away.

later in life, years after the devastation that was Kijuju, he's a different man. he's still a little flighty and calculating, but he's fast to comfort and reassure you, expressing himself freely and communicating instead of lashing out or pushing you away. you both still work on...well, everything. your lives have been tragic and painful, especially his own, but he's never felt so secure as he does with you. he truly loves you, and he'll do anything he can to keep himself from ever hurting you again.

[princescribbler]

5 Common Misconceptions of ABDLs!

To be clear, these are common misconceptions ABDLs have, not common misconceptions ABOUT us ABDLs!

1. "My kink is so rare!"

Really? Because candidly, abdl, ageplay, and diaper fetishism intersect in a fascinating way. There are diaper fetishists who despise any form of ageplay or regression, there are ageplayers who get off on the Ageplay, or the diapers, or the humiliation, teasing, or any other aspect of the kink. And candidly, you can tell ABDL really isn't that uncommon when the communities that show up are this large and varied. Heck, there's entire communities on reddit with tens of thousands of abdls, and that's just one site (and not the most kink friendly space to begin with.) Add in the fact that many people are very embarrassed or worried about this kink and you've got an even better explanation for why it can FEEL very rare or isolating... but it often comes down to just being hard to find, at first!

2. "Nobody vanilla will accept me! They must all think I'm a freak" (or similar negative expectation setting)

Except.. they do, all the time, every day. I've personally avoided most vanilla relationships, but I know MARRIED abdl couples who started with one partner totally vanilla, and some of the biggest and most successful content creators in this space are well known for having partners not into ABDL.

Simply put, if you assume it'll go wrong and you'll be judged, your body language, words, and tone can be much more nervous and defensive and make your partner feel ill at ease. Try to not go in with negative assumptions!

3. "I have to find a caregiver to feel little!"

Uh... no you don't. Your kink might involve a partner, your desires might include one or more people around to care for you or dominate you or join you in diapered submission... but none of that means you can't enjoy still, and have a GREAT time. You can try to foster your own regressive or littlespace mindset, happily. And you don't need ANYONE else to enable that. If you're expecting that just having sometime else around will fix things, you're sadly incorrect! You need, at some level, to be comfortable enough to not just rely on EXTERNAL enforcement of your abdl side!

4. "I should get rid of [x] because I feel embarrassed/bad/upset!" (Or any similar variant of the binge/ purge mentality)

Binge and purge cycles happen, and can be very emotionally destructive. Try to instead put the object in storage instead of throwing it out, because often your emotional negative response will only get worse when you later regret it or judge your own reaction.

Try to give yourself the space to struggle, but don't just throw things away or destroy them if they're kink items... instead, realize you might feel differently later and give yourself the grace to be allowed to change your mind without any further fear or judgment!

5. "Everybody can tell if I'm padded/ little/ going out discretely!"

No they can't. I could stop there but truly let's consider this: you realize that incontinence is common... shockingly common. You've passed people in adult diapers, pull ups, discrete pads, you've likely even been in a room with another heavily diapered adult and NEVER realized. Because unless you're being obvious, have leaks, or make a point to wear very form fitting clothing, nobody will notice or likely even look! You're much less exposed than your brain makes you think!!

My point is this: be nice to yourself, and work hard to challenge those negative self talk moments that come up for so many abdls. Your interests and desires aren't as rare as you think, more people are ok with it than you realize, nobody can usually tell even if you are padded (and would be more likely to assume it medical than kinky even if they noticed), and struggling with this is normal too!

BE NICER TO YOURSELF: THAT'S THIS PAPI'S ORDERS! You don't deserve to feel bad about something that helps you feel good!

And as always; stay happy, stay healthy, and stay kinky!

- Scribbler

[a-d-nox]

aphrodite (1388) persona chart observations (part 1)

welcome to my mini valentine's series on the goddess of love and beauty - this month 4 observations will be released regarding the aphrodite persona chart! all observations are in reference solely to aphrodite persona charts. these observations are completely hypothetical. they are based on my (the those closest to me's) experiences with each aspect/ placement! please don't take everything i say as predestined, astrology is possible outcomes not guaranteed ones. this is just a starting place for when examining singular objects in an entire galaxy (these are not the only asteroids in affect for you). take what resonates and leave what doesn't!

♀ sun-vertex people will find they are adored by a great many people in life

♀ virgo (6°, 18°) moon, 6h moon, and/or moon negatively aspecting mercury or mars often have issues with their sexual organs - ex: endometriosis, fibroids, PCOS, etc

♀ water and earth moons are likely to have large breasts; they also tend to be the most "womanly shaped" and thus "breedable"

♀ moon-venus aspects are often very fashionable people

♀ moon-uranus people are ultra feminists - for example: they are the ones who don't tend to accentuate their femininity in terms of fashion, who don't care about about body appearance for others, and/or tend to advocate that all women are beautiful BUT are more than their looks

♀ moon positively aspecting uranus tend to receive a lot of praise from those around them about their looks despite feeling they are unattractive - while the negative aspects tend to adopt a lot of routines to glow up or maintain beauty yet recieve little to no praise

♀ moon-hephaistos (2212) people may be outcasted by other feminines OR constantly rejected by them

♀ moon negatively aspecting hestia (46) people could feel like they aren't womanly enough because they aren't home-maker type of people, and/or they might feel shame do to a lack of "virtue" at some point in time

♀ you'll definitely want romantic advice from those who are an air mercury, air venus, and/or a venus ruled mercury; these people are extremely eloquent when it comes to love and emotions

♀ having a water mercury can indicate very deep emotional intelligence

♀ water mercuries have a love language of physical touch and/or quality time, air mercuries have a quality time and/or words of affirmation love language, fire mercuries have acts of service and/or physical touch, and earth mercuries have gifts and/or physical touch... am i right? click here to take the test - tell me your aphrodite mercury and you top result!

♀ mercury or venus ruled 3h people tend to be extremely poetic

♀ mercury-venus people really like the attention they get from drama and gossip

♀ mercury-jupiter positive aspects are often giving to and receiving compliments from others - while negative aspects tend to receive very few and tend to keep their thoughts on other people's looks to themselves

♀ mercury-jupiter positive aspects may have an easier time of sharing their feelings and those feelings being while received - while negative aspects may find that they have a hard time saying how they feel or feel as though when they speak about their emotions that their sharing was in vain and thus not received by the other party at all

♀ mercury-uranus people are manipulative on small scale (white lies, intimate inner-relation lies (most serial killers have tight orbs between these planets in this persona chart), influencing (kim k has a conjunction), etc)

♀ if you want someone who knows how to dirty talk, find a mercury-pluto person; they are very much a eloquent poet in the daylight and devious dirty talker in the night. these people also tend to read a lot of smut or they could write it!

♀ mercury and/or saturn aspects to artemis (105) are the best at adapting to shifts in romantic life or to a partner's lifestyle

♀ mercury-eos (221) people are very poetic when asked about their experience with love

♀ a lot of fire venus people have femme fatale fashion aesthetic and beauty standard - while air venus people tend to dress like soft, girly aesthetic

♀ people with venus ruled by venus or mars OR aspecting mars tend to be seen as very desirable in the societal sense

♀ venus-mars aspect people have a lot of masculine suitors they get adoration from and/or that they dote on

♀ venus-uranus people, like moon-uranus, people are very likely to be feminists - venus-uranus people tend to advocate for LGBTQIA communities extremely inclusive to the trans-community (venus is the genitalia)

♀ venus negatively aspecting neptune people always have a crazy story to tell about their love life and ex lovers

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[delzinrowe]

I wanna marry yaga and be panda's step parent

I know where you came from, nonnie <3

AN: I already thought about this when I saw your ask to Jordie, so I was really hoping you'd come to me <33 Word count: ~516 Warnings: listen, just some really bad small thing about Masamichi Yaga

Masamichi Yaga might not seem like it at first but he has one of the biggest hearts in the entire Jujutsu society. He didn't just create Panda for fun, he took care of him, educated him and was by all means his father.

So when the point comes where he proposes to you, those that are close to him aren't surprised at all. He has a hidden knack for romance, at least he thinks so, but what he does never misses with you because let's face it: you're head over heels for him either way.

From the moment you met him he had this fatherly aura, not in a creepy way, but moreso in a way that shows he deeply cares and always has a solution for problems when they arise. He was quick to help you with whatever was on your mind. Slowly but surely acquaintances became friends, soon after he became the person you confided in first and most.

The line between friendship and more blurred when you two would spend more time together, but neither of you really made a move, it simply all fell into place.

As time goes on Panda also grows very fond of and attached to you. He calls you by your first name and treats you like a child would treat a parent. He also plays a crucial role in the proposal.

<3

When you can't find Masamichi in his principal quarters for an entire day you become worried. Usually if he had to take on a mission of his own he would tell you and you'd tell him to be extra careful, but it rarely happened. Which only makes you worried more.

After some time of scouting the entire school grounds you're still unable to find him and your worry turns into panic. That is until Panda approaches you and calms you down. He tells you that he knows where Masamichi is and that he even asked for you.

As the big chunk of worry finally falls off your shoulders you ask Panda to bring you to him, which of course he would have done either way.

You're expecting Masamichi to be hunched over some new creation he's working on but instead Panda leads you to a secluded clearing where a dinner is set up, with candles and all the romantic things you gush over in the movies.

Panda's more excited about it all than you, because the most prominent emotion you feel is confusion. He doesn't wanna spoil Masamichi's surprise but he still asks you in a very emotional tone "please don't hurt him", which leaves you even more bamboozled.

When the object of your affection finally comes into view and turns around he's not wearing his usual glasses, instead he's looking at you with pure fondness and love in his eyes as he gets down on one knee, pulls out a ring and gets ready to ask you.

You being you of course agree in a heartbeat, while Panda stands on the side sprouting a happy dance because he's overjoyed for the two of you.

[jespardon]

Jes i will share my puppy sniper thoughts if u share yours (no pressure i just CANNOT shut up)

OKAY GUYS *cracks knuckles*

Let's talk about puppy sniper.

So let's start with our good old usual "stock" red sniper, ie the one i'm always drawing if i don't explicitly state otherwise.

So the puppy thing is both a kink and also kind of a "belief" i would say ? Not a lifestyle because it's not like Sniper is trotting around collared and referring to spy as a master or owner, but it's a position that comforts him, beyond getting him aroused. Being in the privacy of the van or a lost spot in the desert and observing the world through the eyes of a dog feels much easier than acting human, normal, somewhat acceptable to society. It helps his thoughts float better and it gives him hindsight on things.

I think he would have a fixation on leather objects and craft (hence my initial headcanon that he does cobbling) because the texture is a familiar one linked to positive emotions / experiences (both hunting/bushcrafting and the petplay). Of course he'd have a collar, and if he did i think it'd either be : 1.made by himself 2.offered by spy and thus, very high quality leather 3.bought by sniper from a reputable craftman, an authentic market or something along those lines. In any of those cases, a very unique (and thus irreplaceable) old, thoroughly worn collar. The leather fixation + puppy kink + cobbling hobby is an excellent combo for him to obsess over spy's shoes and lead to all sorts of fun shoe play 😊.

Okay now, how does it all work with (red) spy ?

I think of red spy as a prideful egotistical person (among many, many other things), so there's a thorough satisfaction in having an intimidating mercenary a whole head taller than him leashed and at his feet. I also imagine spy being much more at ease with his seductivity and queerness, his job and skills being a huge help in indulging your sexuality in the 1960's without being found out or prosecuted. Sniper, on his end, has grown up mostly in isolation until being thrusted in a violent hypermasculine environment. His already shaky social skills aren't helping him handle feeling attraction towards men. There's lotsa layers here but basically, he starts feeling attracted by the assertive, authoritative yet calm spy. Something about someone that can lead others, resolve situations through talking. Sniper is both envious of the ability and fascinated by it and spy picks up on it very quickly so of course he takes great joy in toying with it and trying to push sniper's fascination further, until of course it backfires by becoming mutual.

The relationship is super imbalanced for a long, long while; sniper is just in stupid gawking admiration at spy, while spy is only entertained by sniper's actions and seeking sexual gratification from it. Neither of them have any knowledge of "pet play" or "puppy kink" per se, but it's natural for sniper to place himself in that position where he views spy as an owner that has the obvious right to dictate him what to do, since he knows better, right ? It does take a while for Spy to figure out that oh, this is actually dog themed like, for real, which he again finds a lot of fun in pointing out to sniper to embarass him. But he does indulge in it and, begrudgingly, finds it pretty hot to have this desperate guy humping on him and whining, far from the theatrical sensual sex he's used to performing (in both senses of the word).

Sniper on his end is thrilled to have his "weird" behaviours found to be acceptable and even appealling to someone and feels (almost unwarranted) gratitude towards spy. There's a real eagerness to please and be found useful ! Praise words are his immediate weakness and, on the opposite, disappointment from spy terrifies him. He's real careful about touching and respecting boundaries, follows commands almost infaillibly to the point of embarassing himself in public if asked to (with some hard limits).

tldr

im normal about the psychology of puppy sniper

[koivoid]

Elliot Cuevas Theory

Mostly an analysis of the Yoidore-Shirazu MV. I know I'm pretty late, but oh well.

Section 1: Who is Elliot Cuevas?

Elliot "Ellie" Cuevas is Charles' dead older brother who was mentioned in Charles' motive secret. His name was first mentioned in the Chapter 2 Part 1 QnA. The description of the Yoidore-Shirazu MV confirms that the character depicted is Elliot.

Although Elliot is dead, Charles did not know that he even had an older brother. This raises several questions; for example: Why didn't the Cuevas parents ever tell Charles about his dead brother?

Section 2: The Cuevas Parents + Charles

Charles’ parents clearly aren’t the best. They never taught Charles how to do laundry or cook.

Note his wording: "my parents didn't find it necessary." This implies that they had the time on their hands to teach Charles, but they simply didn't want to. Although this could be interpreted as overprotectiveness, I think it’s them being overbearing. 

Why?

Charles' personality is a pretty big clue to how his parents acted. Charles clearly has a low self esteem:

He very directly states, "Not stupid in the way I know you think I am." Charles is 100% sure that Whit thinks he's stupid.

Additionally, Charles says that he's "an object of mockery," which suggests that he's used to being looked down upon.

I think that this low self esteem comes from how his parents treated him; they forced Charles to devote all of his free time into studying and never allowed him to learn how to take care of himself. They probably never allowed Charles to choose his own path in life; instead, they imposed their own expectations onto him, shaping him to be an ideal, successful child.

Think of, like, stereotypical straight-A parents, who would punish Charles for getting a B+ on a test. This of course would lead to Charles feeling inferior and believing that he has to be perfect.

And this actually reflects how Charles acts in the prologue/chapter 1 daily life. He mocks Xander and Teruko for their talents, saying that they're undeserving of the "Ultimate" title because their talents aren't actual talents. He only respects those who have worked hard for their titles, because he himself had to work hard to be acknowledged by those around him (his parents).

So how does this relate to Elliot?

Section 3: About Elliot

I think Elliot was treated in the same way, being forced into a future his parents wanted, but he was unable to meet their expectations, and he was outcast from the family.

Elliot doesn’t have a good relationship with the rest of the family. For one, Charles didn’t even know about Elliot until it was revealed in his secret. His parents refused to tell him about his dead brother. Although this could be another case of the Cuevas parents being protective of Charles; for example, Elliot could have died protecting Charles and his parents didn’t want Charles to feel guilty. 

But the Cuevas parents didn’t lie to Charles about how his brother died. They lied to him about even having a brother in the first place.

Charles' parents have been lying to him for his entire life about Elliot.

A family that cared for Elliot wouldn’t lie about his existence. 

Therefore, I think that Elliot was cast out from his family—whether that be legally disowned or him simply running away from home—and was seen as a disappointment by his parents, who then refused to bring him up ever again.

"All of this bickering" could refer to the relationship between Elliot and his parents. It's probably not Charles, as Charles was a child at the time, and seems to have a positive memory of Elliot as Charles unconsciously styles his hair to look like his older brother.

Elliot was most likely pushed to become a chemist or something similar by his parents, but he was unable to handle the stress and responsibility. He dropped out/stopped studying, ruining the future his parents wanted for him. His parents kicked him out, and turned to Charles instead, pushing him even harder to the point of not teaching him basic life skills, to try and turn him into what Elliot failed to be.

Elliot is left with no home to turn to, and no future to look forward to.

But surprisingly, Elliot likes the freedom he's been given. He turns to smoking and drinking alcohol as a way to cope.

Saying that getting drunk isn't "half bad" and claiming that he's "living"; Elliot seems to be enjoying a life where he isn't being constantly pressured by his parents, even though he's (most likely) developed an addiction to alcohol and smoking. Which is why he

But obviously, things don't go to well... after all, from the main story, we know that Elliot is already dead.

Nice use of dramatic irony. Elliot continues to live a life of smoking and drinking, unaware that he's going to die.

Section 4: Elliot's Death

This section is basically all theorizing, as there's no super concrete evidence on how Elliot died. However, there is a pretty popular theory that I agree with:

Elliot died protecting Charles from a dog attack.

There's actually quite a bit of evidence for this one.

Firstly, Charles' fear of blood is heavily speculated to be from childhood trauma. Seeing Elliot die horribly as a child could be a possible cause.

Secondly, Charles hates dogs and has a dog bite scar on his arm, but thinks that it's a birthmark. This could be another case of his parents lying to him about how he got that scar, because it involves Elliot.

Additionally, Elliot and Charles seem to have a good relationship despite Elliot leaving the family. Aside from Charles' hairstyle, in the FTEs, Charles wants to make pancakes, which are Elliot's favorite food.

In the MV, this scene in particular also stands out to me:

I think "your" refers to Charles. Elliot is looking down, and he almost seems regretful. He probably regrets leaving Charles behind. Therefore, it makes sense that Elliot would protect Charles, despite the bad relationship with his parents.

Anyways, yeah, that's probably it for my analysis. I could write a better conclusion, but this isn't an essay or anything like that...

If I got anything wrong, feel free to correct me, or feel free to add onto this post! :)

[403tarot]

Hiii can you please do riize sungchan or antons ideal type? Thank u sm if you can🌷

# . . . sungchan's ideal type 🍀

sungchan is drawn to more positive and welcoming energies, which gives me strong vibes of earth signs, especially the virgo sign — women of this sign tend to be a bit more methodical, something sungchan seems to appreciate, thinking that this way of acting and thinking aligns with his own. i see him as a straightforward guy who prefers clarity without mind games, and a partner sharing these principles is what he values most.

he likes romantic women who don't mind following a relationship model where he would be the main provider and driver of the relationship, but this doesn't mean he seeks a submissive woman—quite the opposite. one of the things that attracts him is the ability to handle problems and keep up with his pace. with significant goals and ambitious objectives, he's incompatible with someone with a narrow mindset and shallow goals.

sungchan seems to be looking for someone fascinating with many facets, as if searching for a world within a person. while he considers beauty, it's meaningless if the person has emotionless eyes — he wants someone who knows how to live, aspire, and add value to his life.

he avoids shy women, preferring those who can express themselves easily, form bonds, and aren't afraid to express their feelings or fulfill his need for direct words of love (affirmation). he likes feeling cared for and welcomed, seeking someone to hug, kiss, and bring the feeling of home even if they're thousands of kilometers away.

sungchan has a preference for more homely women who enjoy cooking, have an interest in arts of any kind, and are not oblivious to what's happening around them (disliking alienated or superficial people).

appearance traits that might catch his attention:

smaller structure than his

light-colored hair, shoulder-length

cute nd big cheeks

button nose

little or no makeup

clothes in light tones, cottage girls

korean aesthetic of "purity"

[a-dragons-journal]

on this post: https://www.tumblr.com/a-dragons-journal/764325609818161152/not-everyone-experiencing-a-delusion-recognizes

i before have truly believed i am physically an animal, or can transform into one. I’m not diagnosed or anything, but I’m 99% sure that experience was a delusion. I did not know that at the time.

I can guarantee if i had been told ‘no, you aren’t’ I would have become extremely upset, and believed myself even more. i never told anyone, so it’s fine.

but if i had posted it online, would that have made me a p-shifter? i would not have said I am having a delusion because i fully believed it.

is the issue with p-shifters their predatory behaviour or the fact they claim to be able to physically shift (I apologise if you’ve already answered this, my brain can’t read well atm /gen)

It's kind of both. The predatory behavior is the biggest issue, but the "making physical claims they refuse to provide evidence for" plays directly into that both in the typical "this is a cult" sense that we usually think of with p-shifters and in the "you are posting extremely triggering content for people who experience delusions and refusing to tag it with unreality (because, of course, to do so would be to acknowledge that it's not objective, shared Reality, but instead your personal reality)" sense that babydog talked about more extensively on this earlier post.

But again: if you make physical claims about capital-R shared Reality, you have to be able to provide evidence for those claims; otherwise anyone can say anything and nobody can ever ask for proof. I'm not trying to demand that you (general you) "admit it's not real," because I know it is real for you, regardless of whether it's tangible to me. Acknowledging that it's not shared Reality is not saying your experiences aren't real. I know a lot of people treat it that way, and that's not fair to people experiencing delusions - but the answer is not "insist that it is objective, shared Reality actually and then get mad when people get prickly about that." It can't be. That sounds great in theory, but doesn't work in practice.

It's complicated, it's messy, sometimes it's gray. I'm probably going to care a hell of a lot more about a p-shifter who's actively trying to set up a "pack" or claiming they can teach people to p-shift than I am about one who seems to be minding their own business. But even when they seem to be minding their own business, "extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence" holds true when you're making claims that should be verifiable.

And if you're choosing to use the word p-shifter, you're choosing to associate yourself with that history regardless of why you're using the word, so yeah, I'm going to bare my fangs at you first and ask questions later, sorry.

[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.