#and has different standards or expectations

[tinyshyteacup]

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-------------------------------------------

Tw: Cussing, Angst, Death, Sorrow, Crying, Angry Tony

Part 1

Touch that Takes - Part 2

The observation room is dimly lit, the only illumination coming from the screens lining the wall. Collins stands with his arms crossed, watching the footage with clinical interest.

On the monitors, Leech crouches in her cell, black tendrils occasionally rippling across her skin like dark veins.

Dr. Lindstrom enters, tablet in hand. "You wanted to see me?"

Collins nods without turning. "The physical conditioning is progressing well. Hunting abilities exceed expectations. But there's something missing from her skill set."

"She's lethal at close range," Lindstrom says defensively. "The absorption radius increases weekly."

"And how does she get close to high-value targets? Ones with security? With weapons?" Collins finally turns. "She needs finesse. Subtlety."

Lindstrom frowns. "Subject 437 is barely verbal. Primitive instincts dominate—"

"Then we need to cultivate different instincts," Collins interrupts. "Bring in Mistress Vega. It's time for a new phase of training."

-----------------------------------

The quinjet lands with a dull thrum. No one speaks as the team disembarks. Rain streaks across the tarmac, grey and listless, soaking their boots and shoulders. It mirrors the mood.

Inside, fluorescent lights flicker half-heartedly as they reconvene in the common area.

Bruce’s fingers drum nervously against a tablet. “There’s no trace of her biometrics. Nothing on satellite. Nothing on the electromagnetic scan.”

Clint leans forward, rubbing his hands over his face. “We’ve been through seventeen facilities. Either she’s gone or…”

“Don’t,” Natasha cuts in sharply. “Don’t finish that sentence.”

The quinjet slices through the dusk sky, its engines a low, persistent hum.

Inside, the team prepares.

Bucky sits in the back corner, his metal arm clenched tight around the edge of the bench. His jaw is locked, eyes staring into middle distance—but he’s alert.

Listening.

Feeling.

You’re not in any of Tony’s global scans. But this base—newly uncovered, almost surgically hidden—has Hydra written all over it.

He taps his comm once. “We get in, we check for hostages first.”

Tony rolls his eyes from the cockpit. “Yes, Sergeant. Everyone knows 'Doll Protocol' is now mission standard.”

Bucky doesn’t flinch. “She’s not a protocol.”

"She means something to all of us Manchurian Candidate" Tony snaps back.

Natasha takes point—lethal, silent, efficient. Sam and Clint provide overwatch. Steve kicks down reinforced doors with a vengeance only grief and guilt can fuel.

Bucky moves like a machine—measured, deliberate. But there’s fury beneath every strike.

Every Hydra agent that doesn’t talk is left groaning behind him.

Then Bruce, scanning the lower levels, stops cold. “I’ve got something—life signature. Sub-level three.”

-----------------------------------

The door opens with a hiss. Inside is a chamber filled with cracked screens, overturned medical carts, and a faint pulsing from the center of the room.

She stands barefoot in the wreckage.

Hair tangled. Eyes glowing faintly. Her arms are slightly raised in a defensive posture.

Everyone halts—tension thick.

“Who the hell—” Clint starts, bow raised.

Steve holds up a hand. “Easy.”

The red head's eyes settle on them like she’s measuring each of there souls.

Then they land on Bucky.

“You’re too late,” she says simply.

A red light pulses around her hands defensively.

Tony steps forward, palms up. “Hey—red eyes, big hair—great. We’re not here for you. We’re looking for someone they took.”

“She’s not someone anymore,” The girl, Wanda replies quietly.

“What the hell does that mean?” Nat growls, taking a step forward.

Wanda doesn't move.

“They broke her,” she says finally. “Tore her open. Rebuilt her in their image.”

The silence is immediate. Heavy.

“She tried to fight it,” Wanda adds. “She wept through it.”

Bucky steps forward, slowly. His voice is rough but controlled. “Where is she ?”

Wanda’s glow flickers, as if his tenderness confuses her. “You think she’s still the woman you knew.”

“I know she is.”

Wanda tilts her head, eyes narrowing with some deeper sorrow. “Then you’re not ready.”

-----------------------------------

The team regroups, subdued.

Thor sits silently, Mjolnir resting against his knee. “She spoke as though your Lady were a weapon now,” he says.

Bucky doesn't answer. He just clutches your compact mirror in his pocket like an anchor.

Nat leans against the wall, arms crossed. “Wanda’s words were half warning, half eulogy.”

Steve speaks up. “They didn’t find a body. That means she’s alive.”

Tony’s voice is quieter than usual. “Or worse.”

-----------------------------------

Mistress Vega observes Leech through the glass for nearly an hour before speaking.

"This will be challenging," she says finally. "But not impossible. I've worked with less promising material."

When they bring Leech to the new training facility, she moves cautiously, scenting the air like an animal. This room is different—furnished with a bed, chairs, a small dining table. Mirrors line one wall.

Vega enters alone, unafraid. Leech immediately drops into a predatory crouch, black tendrils curling from her fingertips.

"Stand up straight," Vega commands sharply.

Leech hisses, tendrils extending.

The electroshock collar around her neck activates instantly. She writhes, clawing at the metal band until the current stops.

"Stand up straight," Vega repeats.

Slowly, reluctantly, Leech rises to her full height, shoulders still hunched defensively.

"Better," Vega says. "Now walk to me. On two feet. Like a woman, not an animal."

Leech's first steps are awkward, unsteady after months of scuttling on all fours. But her body remembers, muscle memory gradually returning.

-----------------------------------

A storm brews outside, matching the mood in the Tower.

Rain traces silver streaks down the reinforced glass as the team gathers around the table—silent, haunted. Wanda stands before them, her crimson eyes dim, her posture guarded.

Steve is the first to speak. “What do you mean, they gave her serum?”

Wanda looks toward the floor, her fingers twisting in the hem of her sleeve. “Hydra was obsessed with legacy. The Winter Soldier program was the past. You—” she flicks her gaze at Bucky, “—were the mold.”

“She was the next version. They called her 437. She was the only one who survived the process.”

Tony scoffs from his seat, feet up on the table, a half-drunk glass of bourbon clinking in his hand. “Of course Thumbelina’s got a serial number. Real Hydra-chic.”

“She has abilities now,” Wanda continues softly. “But they’re... unstable. They're linked to some kind of Hunger.”

The team absorbs this like a punch to the chest.

“She clung to—her voice, in the walls of that facility... she called for him.”

Wanda turns to Bucky.

“She begged for you.”

-----------------------------------

They bring in the first test subject at the beginning of the second month with Mistress Vega.

He's a Hydra agent who's been told only that he's participating in an evaluation exercise. Young, arrogant, unaware of the true purpose.

Leech is dressed carefully—a simple black dress, hair arranged artfully.

"Approach him," Vega instructs through the earpiece they've fitted her with. "Make eye contact. Touch his arm when you pass."

Leech's movements are still rigid, but she manages to brush against him, her eyes catching his briefly.

The moment her fingers make contact, black tendrils instinctively surge from beneath her skin. The agent screams, collapsing as Leech begins to feed.

The session ends with the agent dead and Leech back in isolation for three days without feeding.

-----------------------------------

Tony’s in a tank top, sunglasses on despite it being nearly midnight. A drink in hand, wires strewn across the floor, a half-finished Gaunlet twitching on the bench.

He throws the glass across the room—it shatters against the wall.

“Great job, Stark. Fantastic. Build her a cozy suite, let her wear slippers, make it so she sass's JARVIS, and she still gets snatched by Nazi fanboys with a syringe fetish.”

He’s spiraling.

JARVIS flickers in the corner, his voice neutral. “Sir, perhaps a rest—”

“No!” Tony shouts, fingers flying over a console “I rest, she dies.”

He spins back to another screen, bloodshot eyes burning.

“She’s not a weapon. She’s not 437. We get her back, or we die trying.”

The sun rises over dew-soaked lawns as a new chapter begins for the Avengers.

Stark Tower has been left behind.

The compound is larger, quieter, more remote. A fortress rather than a beacon.

It’s too quiet without you.

Bucky watches from the eastern balcony, hair tied back, coffee untouched in his hand. He wears a black long-sleeve and cargo pants, boots planted shoulder-width apart as though still expecting an ambush.

His new environment is sterile, too clean, and it itches under his skin.

The wind brushes across his face, tugging faintly at the hem of his shirt. Somewhere inside, FRIDAY chirps at Peter about curfews and containment zones.

But Bucky doesn’t hear that.

He’s thinking about how you’d sit beside him on mornings like this, maybe wrapped in a blanket too big for you, sipping tea with sleepy eyes, he thinks you'd like the trees.

“Mornin’, Doll, We got you your own Central Park” he says to the empty air.

His voice is entirely his now. But soft—always soft when he says your name.

The transition happens slowly but surely. The creature they call Leech begins to fade, and fragments of you begin to surface—not memories, exactly, but sensations. Awareness.

You stand before a mirror in your cell, watching yourself move. The gestures are practiced, fluid—nothing like the jerky, animal movements of Leech. When you tilt your head, it's calculated. When you smile, it doesn't reach your eyes.

But it's you moving now, not just Leech. The distinction is subtle but profound.

Dr. Lindstrom enters, keeping a careful distance. "We have a mission for you."

You turn, head tilted in that not-quite-human way that even months of training couldn't eliminate. Your response is a single nod.

"Former intelligence agent," Lindstrom explains, sliding a file across the table. "He has information we need. He's paranoid, heavily armed, and has evaded three previous extraction teams."

You open the file, studying the photograph. Middle-aged man, military bearing.

"He trusts no one," Lindstrom continues. "But he has... predictable weaknesses."

You understand. This is why they trained you differently. This is why they taught you to hide the monster beneath smooth skin and practiced gestures.

As Lindstrom leaves, you return to the mirror. You practice the expressions they've taught you—vulnerability, interest, desire. You let the black veins that occasionally surface beneath your skin recede completely.

For a moment, you almost resemble the woman from the photographs—the one who cooked in sunlit kitchens, who held hands with a man who might have had blue eyes ?

-----------------------------------

Glass walls frame the high-tech lab. Metal arms weld delicate circuitry. In the center, a synthetic being floats above the table—Vision. He isn’t awake yet.

Tony rubs his eyes with the heel of his palm, watching the synthetic eyelids flicker.

He mumbles, “You better be worth it, Tinman 2.0.”

Peter pops his head in, laptop in one hand, sandwich in the other.

“Hey, uh… Mr. Stark? I finished that—oh. Is that the vibranium guy?”

Tony waves a hand, pacing. “It’s a work in progress. Like me. Like you. Like all of us who let her down.”

Peter’s face falls. “You mean. The one Mr Barnes…”

Tony looks at him. Just looks. Then nods once. “Yeah, kid. Her.”

Loki lounges on a padded bench in the containment cell, green-black armor reduced to a simple shirt and trousers.

Bucky checks his rifle over with the precision of a man with seventy years of fighting under his belt.

Loki twirls a deck of cards, flicking them through the air with lazy grace.

Watching.

Accessing.

“You’re wasting your time, soldier,” Loki drawls. “If they have her, she won’t remember your face.”

Bucky’s jaw tightens. “She will.”

“Oh? And what makes you so sure?”

Bucky steps forward, arms folded. His metal fingers flex slowly.

Loki tilts his head, thoughtful. “Your sentiments mirror my brute of a brother, all heart no logic, they'll break her.”

Bucky's Jaw ticks with unfiltered rage.

The club is dark, crowded, perfect for hunting. You move through the press of bodies, fighting the instinct to feed on every warm pulse that brushes against you. You have specific prey tonight.

The target sits at the bar, nursing a whiskey, eyes constantly scanning exits and entrances. Paranoid, as reported. Dangerous.

You approach indirectly, positioning yourself where he can observe you without being obvious. You're dressed to attract attention—but not too much.

The vulnerable seductress.

When his gaze finally lands on you, you allow a flicker of flirtation to cross your face—just enough to intrigue.

It takes seventeen minutes before he approaches—longer than average, confirming his caution.

You don't speak. Instead, you offer a small, uncertain smile. Your eyes—carefully controlled to appear normal, not the black pools of hunger they truly are—meet his for exactly three seconds before dropping away.

The conversation progresses in this manner—him speaking, you responding with minimal words and maximum physical cues. Your hand occasionally brushes his arm. Your eyes hold his gaze a moment longer each time. Your body turns toward his, open, inviting.

Later, in his safe house, he lets his guard down completely. Shows you maps, contact information, everything Collins sent you to retrieve.

"You're safe here," he tells you, misreading your vigilant scanning of the room as fear rather than a hunters assessment.

When he moves closer, offering comfort intended to become something more, you don't recoil. This, too, was trained into you.

His fingers brush your cheek. "You've been through hell," he says softly.

You look up, allowing a single tear to track down your face—another technique Mistress Vega drilled into you for weeks.

When the black tendrils finally emerge, wrapping around his throat, his chest, his face, his expression isn't fear—it's betrayal.

He dies still believing you were someone worth saving.

As his desiccated body slumps to the floor, you collect the intelligence materials methodically.

Mission complete.

"Your training is impeccable, you are a masterpiece" Collins tells you.

In your mind, Leech stirs, hungry and pleased. But somewhere deeper, buried beneath layers of conditioning and chemical manipulation, something else flickers—not quite a memory, but a feeling.

Warmth.

Safety.

The ghost of laughter, and Blue eyes.

Bucky enters the suite in the compound softly, as if you'd be asleep in bed, it's his suite, but it's every bit yours too.

The whole suite smells like you.

The dim light from the hallway spills across the room Bucky had arranged it like your room at the tower both a scantuary and a shrine—soft, golden. Everything is in its place. As if you'd left it that way. Your little notebook is tucked under your pillow. A scarf hangs off the chair you always curled up in.

He moves to the dresser and pulls open the top drawer.

Your things are neatly folded. Cotton, lace, fabric that still carries your scent. He runs his fingers over them like they might disappear.

His breathing hitches.

And then—quietly, violently—Bucky breaks.

He sinks to the floor beside your bed, pulling your pillow into his arms, crushing it to his chest like it’s the last real thing in the world.

“I’m sorry, Doll,” he chokes out, voice raw.

He presses his forehead into the pillow, body shaking. The bedframe creaks as he curls into himself. His metal hand, so often a weapon, now clutches something soft. His flesh hand fists in the blanket you loved.

“Come home Doll” he whispers. “You’re the only good thing I ever had.”

He stays there for a long time, until his body slumps with exhaustion and sleep takes him.

[northopalshore]

Chiron in the

Midheaven persona chart

The midheaven persona chart is the extension of your natal midheaven placement. Chiron here tells you what is most criticized about you in terms of your public image or professional reputation & what about your public image/career that hurts you the most. Everything here only applies to the MC persona chart. Also shows the healing presence you may carry. Criticism is not always true to your own intentions or nature, but rather correspondent to how you behave in other people's eyes.

Northopalshores' Masterlist| MC persona chart | Union persona chart

Personal observations, do not repost on other platforms without consent ʕ⁠ ⁠•⁠ᴥ⁠•⁠ʔฅ

°0 criticized for being ignorant, having a lack of depth or maturity, enhancing whichever house or sign it's in

In retrograde the problem may often stem from something that you personally did or are insecure about whether you are aware or not. However, I haven't seen much consistent results or differences between retrogrades & non retrogrades. So just take the original meaning. It's just that I know someone will ask about it at some point so I'll write it here to avoid that.

signs, degrees & houses

⚷ Aries (°1,°13,°25) | 1st House

You could be judged for being rude, abrasive, agressive, self centered, egotistical, smug, being a bully or doing things in a brash and inharmonious way (not thinking of other people you may hurt or the consequences of your actions beyond where it's or what is happening). People could say that you lack actual depth or maturity and just doing something for your own benefit (like pushing your brand or agenda, or interest onto other people). People may also find you to be a one trick pony or someone that can't actually do more than that one thing they cling onto desperately.

Ex: Ryan Reynolds has Chiron in Aries °4 Cancer in the 3rd house. Honestly, he has similar placements to Blake which I'll elaborate further as one of the examples. Both of them push their relationship to the frontline a lot & just pushing their brand more than their actual artistic talents. Going for that familiar comedic style that people are now used to expecting from them.

⚷ Taurus (°2,°14,°26) | 2nd House

People are most likely to critique your spending habits, or your lavish lifestyle. People may think of you as vain and overly materialistic to the point that you are out of touch with reality (insensitive to the world or people around you). Having business ethics that are questionable or self-centered. Your beauty standards may also be something that people judge you for; saying that you highlight unrealistic expectations surrounding beauty and live solely to reach or preach it by existing and being proud of yourself (maybe looking down on others as well because of it). Conversely, beauty standards might be the exact thing that causes you pain throughout your career. Either way it's often related to money, business, feminity, beauty or brands.

⚷ Gemini (°3,°15,°27) | 3rd House

You may be critiqued for being self centered, acting like a know-it-all, being mean or having sharp comments, making jokes that do not fit the situation (insensitive). People will judge you for your voice and your beliefs, your writing and your skills questioning your overall capabilities & what you know. You could be criticized for public statements or your claims and rights as well. You may be afraid that people will dig too much into the words that you say or use them against you at some point. You may be rather insecure about your thoughts and perspectives at times as well.

Ex: Lana Del Rey has Chiron retrograde in Gemini ° 14 Taurus. I remember reading people's opinions on public forums about her earlier performances saying she wasn't particularly a remarkable singer. Also there was that thing about her vocalizing about other people's opinions about her songs and aesthetics seemingly romanticizing an*se and narcotics (unhealthy relationships, grooming yk the works) then her pointing out other female artists songs that depict cheating & etc. However, it's undeniable how impactful her aesthetic & music has been in the industry. Many of her fans resonate deeply with both those aspects of her.

⚷ Cancer (°4,°16,°28) | 4th House

Your career may be influenced by your familial relationships, either from accusations of nepotism or getting every easily due to your close relationships and being related to someone who already had some sort of leverage. People may say that you are heartless to some degree (or on the opposite end; too attached or have attachment issues). Also, your home life may take a jab due to your public image or desire to be someone important (spending more time at work or polishing your image compared to being with your family). You may have had to struggle with your work and public image much earlier than others (working or being exposed to the public life from an early age).

Ex: Beyoncé ( natal Aries rising) has Chiron retrograde in Taurus °18 Virgo in the 4th house. Her dad was her manager and was the one that helped search for record deals (with Girls Tyme aka Destiny's Child) which people say explain the bias around her when she was in the group. Her luxurious lifestyle & crazy work ethic tend to hurt both her (health wise) and people around her (she's known to overwork & underpay her employees). Now, she literally works with her husband & children too. I can't say I know what her home life is like but it's not easy that's for sure. Plus, that means she has been working her ass off ever since childhood.

⚷ Leo (°5,°17,°29) | 5th House

People may criticize you for your expressive or dramatic nature or overly positive personality. People may think you crave attention & gloss over things too often (making light of serious matters as well). People may dislike how quickly you gain attention or how everything is a game or entertainment for you. People questioning why others like you so much. You could be called unserious as well. People may dislike how loud or how much of an oversharer you are which could contribute to people thinking you are insufferable. Your flighty love life & overtly sexual energy could be a topic of interesting amongst them too ( being a topic to critique you for). It may be difficult for you to share things about yourself or feel like you have to act more interesting than you really are to compensate for how boring people may find you without that extra layer or "fun".

Ex: Cardi B, Lisa, Miley Cyrus & Gypsy Rose all have Leo influences with their MC PC Chiron. All four of them were criticized for being too expressive or dramatic and questioned their skyrocketing (at the time they gained that popularity in the first place) popularity. Also, their sexuality has been remarked as "too much" from dans and haters alike.

⚷ Virgo (°6,°18) | 6th House

Your lifestyle, your work ethic, almost everything about you here is put to the test. This placement honestly makes people criticize you from the things you do, food you eat, your attitude, your environment, your talents, how you work, your inspirations; everything seems to be judged in one way or another. It's like one they've exhausted one issue they're on to the next thing about you that either rubs them the wrong way or is literally problematic. Alternatively, you could feel like what you do is never enough and are your own worst critic . People may also find healing or comfort through your work itself.

⚷ Libra (°7,°19) | 7th House

Your looks, partnerships, your spouse, your lovers, are usually what causes your public image to go under public skepticism and judgement. People may questions you due to your connections or down play your efforts due to your "upper hand", especially if you are connected to anyone important or significant in whatever context that your public image applies to (whether work, or what people around your neighborhood says about you). People may think that what you have is unfair or maybe compare you with your partner & their lives or history seeing you as either lackluster or bland in comparison (or vice versa). People may also find you shallow or superficial.

⚷ Scorpio (°8,°20) | 8th House

People may call you a manipulative person, with a lack of morality or distain towards other people. A liar, trauma dumper, or an overall toxic person. People may find you to be contradicting (which leads to distrust). Some people may over sexualize you as well or think that part of you is "too much" or unbearable. People may hate your guys for no reason too (but it's likely out of jealousy). Any changes surrounding your career may also be scrutinized saying that you "change for the worst". People's obsession with you or the constant invasion of your privacy may be an awful backflash following your career or public image. You may be paranoid that someone somewhere is just watching your every move, just judging you (and they likely are). People's attachment to you and strong feelings (whether positive or negative) is what hurts your image the most depending on other placements. Also, people may criticize you for not having a consistent identity or public presence. People just expect too much from you.

⚷ Sagittarius (°9,°21) | 9th House

Your could receive hate or backlash from cultural appropriation, r*cism, personal beliefs or world view & philosophy, political views, and even your unconventional way of life. Your lack of morality or views surrounding activism may also fall under public scrutiny. You may be seen as a "bad influence" to a lot of conservative people. Conversely, you yourself may be awfully rigid or and conservative, pushing your beliefs onto other people that do not necessarily agree with your ideals. People may say your are a one note character too either doing too much or too little to prove yourself. People may say you are rather "tone deaf" with your opinions. People may also call you ungrateful & lazy. People's opinions and thoughts about you hurt deeply. You may hold a lot of your thoughts, act ignorant or downplay yourself due to that.

Ex: Blake Lively has Chiron° 25 conjunct Venus°21 & Groom°21 in Gemini in the 10th house. She is definitely a fitting controversial figure. She is criticized for a lot of things, from being a bully to being fake and even r*cist (because they literally got married at a plantation amongst all things). Is she just trying to be her Gossip Girl character or was she not acting when she played Serena. She also seems to imitate her husband's humor and brings him up numerous times like it's a required statement. There's honestly a lot to say about her but I won't elaborate further.

Brigitte Bardot has Chiron in Taurus ° 9 Sagittarius in the 2md house & Jennie has Chiron in Libra °16 Cancer the 9th house. Both are criticized for their "I don't care" attitude, their mentality, their dismissive or laziness, expensive taste and relationships. Jennie also started being perceived (or working in the industry or something relative to it since a young age) and thus has gone through pain or insecurities at an early age.

⚷ Capricorn (°10,°22) | 10th House

Criticism often comes from people with a higher status than you like your employer or a senior executive at work, someone that has more experience than you or even just people that assume they have authority over you. You could be criticized for your work ethic the most or even how people view you or you view yourself. You may get criticized because people think other people deserve what you have or your position more than you even if you did work yourself up to where you are /will be in the future. Your work itself is also something that may go through a lot of backlash. Also, people may think of your brand or personality as something made (manufactured) to be marketable and not a reflection of who you are.

⚷ Aquarius (°11,°23) | 11th House

You may be criticized for favoritism, accusations of having"main character complex", being unresponsive to (shutting out) other people outside of your circle or your world, being the noticable odd person out. Thinking too highly of yourself or being the spotlight stealer. People may also criticize you for either being overly altruistic (up your own ass) or oppositely; being incredibly dismissive about other people in your community. This hate may come from peers or "friends" and most of all netizens if your job or public life involves the internet. It may be hard for you to share what you like because of how "out there" your ideas can be fearing that no one will understand where you're coming from. In some cases your peers may be your worst enemies (especially if Chiron is in the 11th house).

Ex: Michael Jackson has Chiron in Aquarius °18 Virgo in the 7th house. His career has effected his entire life, from his childhood to his relationships and even his personal actions. He was nicknamed Wacko Jacko for his capricious and strange personality.

⚷ Pisces (°12,°24) | 12th House

You may be criticized for playing victim or acting/being oblivious to certain things. Lack of transparency, leniency. For some, even citizenship may be questionable. Being manipulative, and fishing for pity or willingly letting go of control over yourself for some reason. You may also be under the control of people that may effect your public image. People may not understand your vision of your true intentions, making you feel discouraged or even invisible to a greater audience. Your may be overshadowed by the work of people around you for example. People may also view you as someone that's easy to walkover due to that feeling of incompetence you hold.

Ex: Taylor Swift has Chiron in Cancer °24 Pisces in the 10th house. She's most criticized for playing victim & standing by her altruistic tendencies. This was most prominently showcased during the Kanye incident & the "Snake" backlash. Man, that was wild. Also, she was literally interrupted by Kanye because he thought she didn't deserve her VMA award.

Aspects (Conjunctions only)

⚷ Chiron conjunct 11th house

People may criticize you for your choice of friendships or the people you choose to surround yourself with. Your friends themselves may be the issue at times.

Ex Taylor Swift's Chiron conjuncts her 11th house. She gain quite a lot of backlash for her "Squad" as people thought it had a lot to do with exclusivity & elitism (since everyone in it was quite famous and influential at the time). Also, it's notable that most her friends had controversy of their own at one point or another (then or in the future). Blake being one of those friends. She is also deeply involved with her friends however, providing them a safe place to share & heal with her and vice versa like her friendship with Selena Gomez.

⚷ Chiron conjunct Descendant

People may call you a homewrecker (especially if Chiron is not in the 7th house, just conjuncting it), or be criticized for your choice of partners (whether romantic, platonic or business related). Your connections and transaction based relationshipa tend to rub people the wrong way (like how you manage it for example will also be dissected).

⚷ Chiron conjunct Briede (19029) or Groom (5129)

Being criticized in relation to your partner. You may feel less noticable compared to your partner or vice versa, people could say that you don't deserve to be their partner or just get criticized for being with them. Either that or it's you as a partner (people may think you are an inadequate as a marriage partner).

⚷ Chiron conjunct North Node

You are criticized for your vision, your ideals and what you believe in the most. People may think that you change too drastically or that you were "better before the change". People may find you too righteous or self entitled as well.

⚷ Chiron conjunct Industria (389)

You will be criticized heavily for your work and what you choose to do professionally. However, it may also be an indicator of having a career that is tiring but at the same time very healing (to both you and other people). Not necessarily related to doctors, could be artist or holistic healers too.

⚷ Chiron conjunct Sun

Scrutiny towards your personality, your ego or your self assertivenes, literally just how you present yourself to others (that may or may not "steamroll" other people). Some may find your optimism or personality to be rather appealing and comforting, while others think of you as inadequate. You may work 2x as hard just to prove yourself worthy.

⚷ Chiron conjunct Moon

Being judged for the way that you feel or portray your emotions. People not understanding your feelings and actions. People may call you immature too. However, those that vibe with you will be deeply attached due to your relatability and aptness at connecting or trauma bonding with other people.

⚷ Chiron conjunct Mercury

They way you speak or sing or write is very healing to other people, however you may be criticized by the same thing many people may like about that part of you. You may hesitate to talk to share your thoughts because of that. Staying silent at times may be more fruitful in your opinion.

⚷ Chiron conjunct Mars

People may crutize you for your energy (whether the abundance or lack thereof). You may seem "lazy" or "doing too much" depending on other placements. You may feel like you have to doore than other people to prove yourself.

Ex: Wonyoung has this placement, people often says she does too much compared to the rest of the members or literally wherever she is.

⚷ Chiron conjunct Venus

People may condemn you for your love life or for being with your partner/lover, your creativity and your talents. Judging your looks, beauty & aesthetics as well (especially if you have or will go(ne) through some cosmetic procedures). Though people might also say that you "lack beauty" or are not on the level that people in your place would otherwise have based on their assumptions. People that connect with you however, feel that you are a valuable soul that's love transcends almost anything. They may also be deeply attached to your love life or story. You tend to have a "hurt maiden" type of beauty or always look scared on unsure. Your looks or love life may suffer due to your career.

⚷ Chiron conjunct Neptune

People may call you delusional or manipulative. Though people that trust you will see you as someone who is able to foresee more than most people can, seeing you as a healer and genius of sorts when it comes to your talents, beliefs and "life navigation system". Also, you may be rather inconsistent with your presence (hard to get to and find, disappearing more often than being present). Being out of touch with people. Your art is healing, but often judgement by people room

⚷ Chiron conjunct Pluto & Saturn

Judged for putting your beliefs or best interest first, for assuming much about yourself or others. People may also dislike you for being a "wet towel" i.e being the person to bring other people to their senses or introduce controversial ideas. People that connect with you will see you inner power and potential to bring light to the darkness; having a greater purpose to push past the karma or hurt. You get a lot of hate just for being there (where public image/career is most relevant to you).

⚷ Eros conjunct Chiron

You may be judged for your sex life or your sex appeal. People may call you a ... hussie or indecent person when it comes to the body and sexuality. People that connect with you will find your energy compelling and even motivational. You may have the ability to heal wounds surrounding s*x or past dreams/desires.

˚₊‧꒰ა paid readings available ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Arrivederci ♡, thanks for reading. Hope this helps! (support?)

@northopalshore

@northopalshore midheaven persona chart 2025 all rights reserved. Disclaimer.

[misshoneyimhome]

What's up buttercups!

We’re getting close to the end now—but don’t worry, there are still a few sparkles left to scatter ✨ And who better to bring a little joy (and chaos) than Auston’s delightful family? 💕 So sit back, pour yourself a mimosa, and soak in these last few chapters. I hope they make you smile as much as they made me while writing them.

Happy reading, babes 😘

Tropes & warnings: inexperienced!reader x Auston Matthews, meet cute, strangers to friends, fake relationship, language, 18+ soft: fingering, unprotected sexual intercourse (v), interrupted sex, cum inside, soft!Auston

Word count: 7.6k Chapter one ; Chapter two ; Chapter three ; Chapter four ; Chapter five ; Chapter six ; Chapter seven ; Chapter eight ; Chapter nine; Chapter ten; Chapter eleven; Chapter twelve; Chapter thirteen ; Chapter fourteen ; Chapter fifteen

Some who might have interest: @hockeybabe87 @tonyspep @thesecretestblogever @delayed-delusions @kurlyteuvo @emsdevs

➼｡ﾟ

Chapter sixteen: Pawn to Heart Four

::

”Dearest Toronto readers,

Oh, have you felt it? That tremor beneath the ice? That subtle shift in the wind?

Something is different in the kingdom. Our Queen—usually poised, press-ready, and perfectly composed—has gone quiet. Not a post, not a sighting, not a whisper from within the castle walls. And if you believe the silence means peace, you haven’t been paying attention.

Because something happened. We don’t know what, exactly, but we’re trained in reading between the lines—and this one feels jagged. A fracture disguised as stillness. The smile’s still there, but it’s sitting wrong. The Ice King hasn’t been himself either. More brooding than usual. And if our intel is correct, a visitor has landed in Toronto. One with very high standards and a no-nonsense approach to royal entanglements.

Yes, darlings. There are rumours of a royal inspection. A maternal one. And if the Queen isn’t ready to defend her throne, someone else just might step in to question how real her reign is.

Secrets might survive in shadows, but they squirm in sunlight—and Toronto’s just turned up the heat.

Hold on to your crowns.

Yours always,

The Benchwarmer”

_

Saturday -

You woke to warmth. To stillness.

Auston’s arm was draped over your waist, his chest pressed flush to your back, the steady cadence of his breathing ghosting across your shoulder. His body curved around yours like it had always belonged there—like muscle memory, like instinct. His leg was hooked between yours, keeping you tangled in place beneath the weight of his hold and the thick duvet pulled up to your ribs.

You didn’t move.

Not at first.

Because the moment felt dangerous in a way you hadn’t expected.

Too soft. Too intimate. And way too real.

Your eyes fluttered open slowly, adjusting to the dim light pooling into the room from the streetlamp outside. His bedroom smelled like sleep and sweat and skin and sex. Faint traces of cedarwood clung to the sheets, warm and smoky. The ache between your thighs reminded you of how good it had been—how intense—and your skin still bore the proof of it: faint bruises on your hips, a scrape from his stubble along your collarbone, the shadow of teeth where he’d bitten your shoulder just hard enough to make you moan his name.

You should’ve felt wrecked.

But you didn’t.

You felt… kept.

And that was the real danger.

Auston stirred behind you, his breath catching slightly, his hold tightening as though even asleep, he wasn’t ready to let you go. His palm moved to rest flat against your stomach, fingers spread. You could feel the heat of him, his body wrapped around yours like shelter. And for a moment, you let yourself imagine it wasn’t fake at all. That this wasn’t temporary. That this kind of waking up—this kind of peace—was something you could choose.

He made a soft sound in his sleep, and you felt it in your spine, low and familiar. You knew that sound. You knew him. His temper, his laugh, the exact angle of his smirk when he was up to something. You knew how he liked his coffee and how he tensed his jaw when he was holding something back. You knew the way he kissed—lazy and slow until he wasn’t. And you knew how he made you feel.

You closed your eyes for half a second longer, before you then slipped out from under his arm, careful not to wake him.

Your bare feet hit the floor, cool against the wood as you padded over to the corner where your clothes had landed. You pulled on your sweater and jeans without turning on the light. Mascara smudged faintly beneath your eyes when you caught your reflection in the mirror, but you didn’t bother fixing it. You looked like you’d been ruined—which you had.

And the worst part?

You’d asked for it.

You’d loved it.

And now you wanted more.

You paused in the doorway just to turn back a second.

Auston lay on his side now, face buried in the pillow, the duvet low on his waist, one hand fisted where your body used to be. His lashes were dark against flushed cheeks, lips slightly parted. He looked peaceful. Beautiful. Almost yours.

But he wasn’t. Not really.

So, you stepped out quietly and typed the message as you waited for the lift.

You: Thanks for last night.

Short and safe.

You added nothing else. No emojis. No punctuation. No softness.

Because if you gave yourself an inch, you’d forget this wasn’t supposed to matter.

And that kind of forgetting?

That was how you got hurt.

_

The group chat had been buzzing since Thursday morning with a flurry of emojis, nail colour polls, and screenshots of HydraFacial benefits. You had had the time to stop by your place, quickly grab a back with all the essentials, before stepping through the large glass doors. 

The spa lobby smelled like eucalyptus and something soft and floral—probably rose water. Sunlight spilled through tall windows and made everything glow. And you were barely through the door before Stephanie spotted you.

“There she is!” she beamed, rising from a plush lounger in her fuzzy white robe. “We thought you ditched us for another group of friends. Or worse: work!”

“Not this time,” you chuckled, letting her pull you in for a cheek kiss.

Tessa was already perched near the juice bar, flipping through a glossy magazine while waiting for her matcha. “Don’t listen to her,” she said. “She just wants to hear more gossip. Preferably about Auston’s abs.”

You laughed and set your tote down, slipping into the flow of conversation as naturally as you could. The chatter was breezy—soothing, even—like a sleepover hosted by women who’d traded pillow fights for collagen masks and Cartier bracelets.

“Max still refuses to label his food in the fridge,” Estelle sighed. “I caught him drinking my green juice straight from the bottle.”

“Oh my god,” Stephanie groaned. “Mitch does this thing where he leaves his laundry near the basket. Not in it. Near. Like it’s allergic to being inside.”

There were snorts and knowing glances. Someone handed you a mimosa. You sipped it slowly, smiling more easily than you expected to.

“Okay but,” Estelle then said, narrowing her eyes playfully, “is Auston a toothbrush-leaver?”

You tilted your head. “What?”

“You know,” she said with a smirk. “Has he left one at your place yet? Toothbrushes are like… milestone one.”

“Oh, come on,” Tessa jumped in. “That’s after the hoodie claim, but before sharing a Netflix profile. It’s practically science.”

You tried to laugh, but it came out a little breathy. “No toothbrush,” you said. “But there may be a charger,” you lied. 

There was a fresh round of teasing. A flurry of giggles and gasps. Someone—maybe Estelle—suggested that meant he was practically moving in.

You didn’t correct them.

But even as you settled into a massage chair, even as your feet soaked in warm water and your fingernails were buffed to a shine, your phone sat just beside your thigh, screen up. Waiting.

Nothing.

Jess still hadn’t replied.

You’d texted her that morning again. And then again in the Uber on the way over. You’d liked a meme she posted yesterday, just to try for some soft entry point. But still—no read receipts. No bubbles. No blue ticks. Nothing.

And as soon as you had a small window, you excused yourself after the third mimosa, claiming you needed to reapply lip-liner. You stepped into the hallway near the locker rooms, thumb hovering over the screen before you gave in. Again.

You: I’m sorry so sorry Jess! Please talk to me. 

Still no reply.

The knot in your chest was tighter than it had been when you arrived. You leaned against the wall, exhaling slowly before slipping your phone back into your robe pocket and heading toward the sauna.

Inside, the women were still buzzing— draped in towels, skin dewy and flushed from steam. Someone had started retelling the time a player got locked out of his own house naked. You sat down, laughed when expected, nodded when required.

You were having fun. You really were. They were lovely. Warm and so real.

But it didn’t stop the ache.

Because behind every perfectly painted smile and sparkling laugh, your mind was still with Jess. And no matter how hot the sauna got, the cold distance between you refused to thaw.

The second half of the spa day unfolded like something out of a rom-com montage—champagne in hand, robes soft against your skin, the air rich with eucalyptus and laughter. You’d sunk into the plush circle of loungers with the rest of the WAGs, your skin warm and flushed from your massage, your heart still heavy with Jess’s silence.

But here, for a few hours, you let it slip.

“Okay,” Stephanie said, raising her flute, “best travel story. I want missed flights, lost passports, public tantrums. Go.”

Estelle groaned dramatically. “Max once lost his passport inside his skate bag. We nearly missed a connection to Mykonos. His excuse? ‘It’s safe with my gear.’”

Tessa laughed so hard she nearly spilled her drink. “That’s so on brand.”

“Oh, wait,” chimed Ella. “I once had to use hand signals to tell Matty he’d packed only gym shorts for a wedding weekend.”

The stories kept coming—forgotten anniversaries, awkward family introductions, hotel mishaps—and then, without meaning to, you joined in.

“Auston once thought he could do laundry by mixing dish soap and shampoo,” you said, sipping your champagne. “It foamed so bad the entire laundry room looked like a bubble rave.”

The group exploded in laughter.

It wasn’t a story you’d experienced firsthand—but he’d told it to you once, half-laughing, half-defensive, and now you found yourself retelling it like you’d been there.

“No!” Stephanie cried. “Stop it. That man is close to thirty years old!”

“Mentally? More like fifteen,” you replied, grinning.

“You’re so whipped,” Tessa teased, pointing her mimosa straw at you. “You talk about him like he hung the stars.”

You opened your mouth to deflect—but nothing came. Because maybe you did talk about him like that. Maybe it wasn’t just part of the act anymore.

And before you could recover, the conversation took a turn.

“Okay,” Estelle said, leaning in like she was about to share state secrets. “We’ve done the cute stories. Let’s talk sex. Embarrassing kinks, weird sounds, accidental injuries. Who’s going first?”

A chorus of groans and laughter filled the air, and the stories got juicier—Tessa accidentally hitting Morgan in the face during reverse cowgirl, Stephanie confessing Mitch talks a lot during foreplay (“Like a podcast with tongue”), Ella whispering that Matthew owns a vibrating cock ring with settings.

When they turned to you, it felt inevitable.

“C’mon,” Stephanie said. “You can’t not share. Look at you—you’ve got the glow. That man clearly worships at the altar.”

You rolled your eyes, blushing. “You’re insane.”

“Just give us one thing,” Estelle begged. “Is he soft and slow? Rough and bossy? Does he dirty talk or just look at you like a threat?”

You bit your lip, cheeks hot. “He’s… intense.”

A chorus of shrieks followed.

“Oh my god,” Stephanie moaned. “She’s being cryptic. That means he’s filthy.”

“He has a praise kink,” you added, before you could stop yourself.

Silence. Then chaos.

“Knew it!”

“Fucking called it!”

“I bet he says ‘good girl’ like it’s a benediction.”

You laughed, face buried in your hands as they hooted and clapped and toasted you like you’d just won a gold medal in sex. And for a minute, you forgot the ache in your chest. Forgot the pit in your stomach. Forgot Jess.

But only for a minute.

The day wrapped slowly. Robes were folded, hugs exchanged, Instagram posts posted, and spa bags packed. You lingered in the locker room, dabbing tinted lip balm on in the mirror, your phone buzzing on the bench beside you.

You didn’t expect it to be her.

Jess: Still can’t believe you’d ever lie to me like that. To us. But for what it’s worth, your secret’s safe with me.

You froze. Your breath caught. Your hands stilled.

You read it once. Twice. The ache in your chest didn’t return—it had just been waiting.

Then, three dots blinked.

Jess: We’ll talk. Just not now.

It wasn’t forgiveness. But it wasn’t final. And for now… that was enough to keep breathing.

You sat down slowly, phone clutched in your hand like it was the only thing anchoring you.

Your mascara was still perfect. But your heart wasn’t.

And at that very moment, you didn’t want to go home. You couldn’t. Because you didn’t want to be alone or to feel lonely. So, you opened another message.

You: You’re still home?

_

He opened the door within seconds of your knock. No questions, no raised brows, no words. Just Auston standing there barefoot in nothing but a pair of dark boxers, his curls still slightly damp from a recent shower, his eyes dark and tired but open.

You didn’t speak either. Not at first.

Instead, you stepped forward and let his hands find your face, his fingers threading through your hair as your forehead pressed gently to his. You stood like that for a few heartbeats, letting your breath sync with his, letting the quiet wrap around you like a blanket.

Then he stepped aside.

You walked in, familiar now with the rhythm of his apartment. The soft lighting. The low hum of the fridge. The subtle scent of it all. You kicked off your shoes and made your way straight to the bedroom, not because you were tired, but because you didn’t want to exist anywhere else.

Felix’s tail thumped once against the floor as you passed him curled on the hallway rug. He blinked up at you sleepily, then stood and padded after you on soft paws, as if sensing you needed the company tonight.

Auston followed a few moments later. Still quiet. Still shirtless. In the low light of the room, his body looked softer somehow, not in form but in energy. Not a hockey god. Just a man.

He watched as you peeled off your clothes slowly—one layer at a time. There was nothing seductive in it, nothing that begged to be touched. You folded your sweater and jeans at the end of the bed and stood in your thong, feeling the weight of his gaze but not threatened by it.

He didn’t move until you did, walking toward the bed and sitting on the edge. Then he pulled open his drawer, tugged out the same long T-shirt you’d worn the morning earlier, and handed it to you without a word.

You took it and pulled it over your head.

Then you climbed into his bed, sheets still faintly wrinkled from last night, and settled against the cool cotton. Felix jumped up a second later, circling once before curling into the crook behind your knees like a warm, breathing anchor.

Auston got in after you. No ceremony. Just the soft dip of the mattress and the shift of his body as he lay beside you. He joined you beneath the covers, propped on one elbow, head resting against his arm while watching you.

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

You offered him a gentle smile and nodded.

“Had a fun day with the wags,” you said softly.

Auston’s eyes offered a gentle expression, as if flashing a smile when his lips weren’t doing it.

But then you continued, “Jess texted.”

Auston’s expression shifted slightly. “What’d she say?”

You turned onto your side as well before answering. “Still can’t believe you’d ever lie to me like that. To us. But for what it’s worth, your secret’s safe with me.”

His hand found your lower back, warm and steady. He didn’t speak right away. Just rubbed slow circles.

“I’m sorry,” he said eventually.

You closed your eyes. “Me too.”

The silence after that wasn’t heavy. It just… existed. Like you both needed it. Like filling it would mean admitting that you didn’t know how to fix what you’d broken.

You shifted closer as he turned onto his back, resting your head against his chest. He wrapped his arm around you. His hand trailed lightly up and down your spine, his breathing slow and even. Felix gave a quiet sigh and stretched his paws, his warmth a comforting weight at your feet.

“We’re a mess,” you whispered, almost laughing.

But Auston simply huffed a breath that was close enough to a laugh. “Speak for yourself. I’m perfect.”

You chuckled. Just a little.

And for the first time, there was no sex. No hunger. No lessons or desires to be filled. Just presence. Just the soft warmth of his skin, the hum of his heartbeat in your ear, and the quiet companionship of a sleepy dog who didn’t ask for explanations.

And for now, that was enough. _

“Darlings, if you felt the shift in the air this weekend, you weren’t imagining it. Our Queen spent the day surrounded by cotton robes, spa water, and the sweet sound of partner gossip—yes, WAGs were present, and yes, the mimosa-fuelled confessions were flowing.

But while the others giggled over toothbrushes left behind and boxers gone mysteriously missing, our Queen kept checking her phone. One name absent from the group chat. One silence louder than the rest.

Still, she smiled. She played along. And she slipped out with grace… only to end the night not in her own bed, but back in familiar arms.

No flashy exits. No post-game kisses. Just a quiet arrival and a quieter night.

Which begs the question: can comfort be more seductive than passion? Is it the touches without tension, the hands in hair and wordless understanding, that make something real?

We’ve all seen them heat up. But now we’re watching something else settle in. Something slower. Softer. And maybe more dangerous.

And while the Ice King plays it cool, we must wonder… who else is watching?

Because this isn’t just a game anymore. It’s domestic. And that’s the kind of move that makes people nervous —The Benchwarmer”

_

Sunday -

Once again, you awoke and were greeted by warmth. With your face tucked against Auston’s chest, your nose nudged into the soft muscle of his pec, and the slow, steady rise and fall of his breathing anchoring you to the moment. His arm was curled protectively around your back, and his thumb was brushing in slow, lazy circles along your bare skin just beneath the hem of the borrowed T-shirt you still wore.

And for a while, you didn’t move. 

Felix had left during the night, but the warmth of the bed, his body, the sheer stillness of the room—it felt like floating in a space where nothing could reach you. Auston’s heartbeat thumped softly against your cheek, a quiet rhythm that made your eyelids flutter, your thoughts slow as you blinked your eyes open.

“You’re awake,” you murmured after a moment, your voice still husky from sleep.

“Have been for a few minutes,” Auston replied, his tone low, like it hadn’t quite caught up with the morning. “Didn’t wanna move.”

You tilted your head back slightly to look at him. His hair was a mess. So was yours. His eyes were half-lidded and soft, a little crinkled at the corners from smiling before he even spoke.

“I probably have dragon breath,” you warned with a sleepy grimace.

“Don’t care,” he said, and then—just to prove it—he shifted his body and dipped his head and kissed you. Light at first, lips brushing, then firmer, surer, like he couldn’t help himself. You tasted sleep and skin and something faintly sweet from the night before.

Your fingers threaded into his messy hair. His hand slid under the hem of the T-shirt, palm dragging slowly up your spine. The kiss deepened. Shifted. Your thighs parted instinctively when his knee slid between them, and that’s when you felt it.

Auston grinned into your mouth. “You feel that?”

“Hard to miss,” you breathed, letting your hand trail down between you until your fingers grazed the clear hard outline of him beneath his boxers. “Morning wood or just happy to see me?”

“Can’t it be both?”

You laughed softly, breath hitching, and kissed him again. Then he rolled slightly, pushing you gently onto your back, his hand slipping down between your legs, fingers confident and warm as they dipped beneath the fabric of your panties.

You gasped lightly, spine arching from the mattress, his name spilling from your lips like a prayer. “Auston—”

“Shh,” he murmured, lips brushing your throat, his voice nothing but a hush against your skin. “I just want to feel you.”

His fingers moved with slow intent, curling inside you with the kind of confidence that came from knowing exactly how to make you melt. Every motion was deliberate—measured—not rushed or frenzied, but deeply focused, like he was trying to memorise the way you pulsed around him. Wetness pooled easily, your body giving in to him with no resistance at all.

Your hand found its way beneath the waistband of his boxers, curling around the length of his cock. You stroked him in rhythm with the steady press of his fingers, feeling him twitch against your palm, thick and hot and patient.

There was no urgency. No edge. Just warmth and connection. A silent kind of intimacy that built in the quiet spaces between breaths.

And when he finally peeled away what remained of your clothes and tugged off his boxers, there were no words—just the shift of his weight, the way he guided your legs open with a reverent touch, and the soft press of his mouth to yours before he rolled you gently beneath him.

His body came down over yours, heavy and grounding, skin brushing skin, his gaze locked to yours as he pushed inside in one long, careful thrust.

You both exhaled at once.

He didn’t rush. He rocked into you slowly and deeply, every movement unspoken proof that this wasn’t about hunger—it was about closeness. About the way your body welcomed him like it had been waiting for this. For him. 

Your fingers curled into his shoulders. His mouth dropped to your jaw.  You wrapped your legs around his hips, and the world narrowed to the quiet glide of his body and the sweet stretch between your thighs.

Then with a surge of confidence, you initiated a push - he got the message, and you rolled him over, straddling his waist in one fluid motion, breathless but grinning. He matched it, hands slipping to your hips as you settled on top of him, your bodies already slick, already so close to the edge.

You moved slowly at first, a lazy rhythm that let you feel everything—the way he filled you, the way his hands flexed tighter on your waist, the way his breath hitched every time you rolled your hips just right.

He reached up, brushed your hair from your face, and then slid a hand between your thighs, thumb circling your clit with maddening precision.

Your moans rose with every movement, your pace quickening, tension winding tight and desperate in your belly. You leaned back slightly, both hands braced on his chest, as you gasped his name.

“Aus—oh my god—yes… I’m… close…”

But then—

The doorbell rang.

You froze mid-motion. The sound echoed through the apartment like a slap, piercing the thick, hot air you’d created between you. You stared at each other, wide-eyed, breathless.

“No,” you whispered, voice hoarse with disbelief.

Auston’s eyes were already narrowing. “Fuck. No. No, no, no—”

You scrambled off him, nearly falling over your own legs as you grabbed for the sheets. He yanked a blanket over his lap with a speed you hadn’t known he possessed this early in the morning, eyes darting toward the hallway as the bell rang again—this time longer, more insistent.

You stood there, wrecked and flushed and still pulsing with want, your chest rising like you’d run a mile. And then—you both started laughing.

It wasn’t graceful. It was half-panic, half-hysteria, the kind of laughter that shook your shoulders and left you weak.

“I swear to god, if that’s a delivery guy—”

“It’s worse,” Auston confessed almost breathlessly, already pulling on a hoodie with one arm and hopping on one leg as he searched for boxers.

You blinked. “Worse?”

He paused, grimaced. “That’s my mom - and maybe family.”

You let out a strangled yelp. “You said we were meeting them for dinner!”

“I thought they’d come later!” he hissed, dragging the blanket across the bed with one hand, as if that would somehow erase the chaos of what you’d just been doing.

You bolted, grabbing your discarded clothes in a panic. “Bathroom. I’m going to the bathroom. Tell her I’m… meditating.”

He snorted, pulling the hood up over his curls as he turned toward the door. “Yeah, I’ll tell her you’re finding your inner peace. Through loud, repeated moaning.”

You hurled a pillow at him just before you slammed the bathroom door shut behind you.

You were still breathless, half-laughing and half-mortified, as you scrambled into the ensuite and yanked your sweatshirt over your head. Your underwear was missing in action, your jeans were twisted inside out on the floor, and your heart was thundering like it could knock down the door before Auston’s mother even rang it again.

From the bedroom, you heard his hurried footsteps, the muffled curse of someone trying to hop into sweatpants while locating their dignity. “Shit—fuck—Snuff, move—”

You nearly tripped getting into your jeans. “Tell me she doesn’t have a key!”

“She doesn’t—usually!” he called back, the front door already creaking open.

You barely had time to pull your hair into something vaguely normal before you heard it.

“Mijo!” A woman’s voice—bright, familiar, and utterly delighted.

And then: “We brought tamales!”

You froze.

We?

Oh god. That meant all of them.

You peeked out of the bedroom just in time to catch Auston’s horrified smile as Ema stepped inside, followed by a tall man with the same shoulders and brow—his dad, Brian—and then two girls who could only be his sisters: Breyana and Alexandria. A wave of warmth and chaos followed them, like someone had opened the door to a family sitcom with a full laugh track.

You caught Auston’s eye, as he mouthed: I’m so sorry.

And then Ema spotted you instantly.

“Oh!” she gasped, eyes lighting up as she approached. She reached out before you could process what was happening, hands warm as she grasped yours and then pulled you into a gentle hug. “Mi amor, you’re even more beautiful than in pictures.”

Your cheeks burned. “It’s so lovely to meet you, Mrs. Matthews.”

“Ema,” she insisted, pulling back to beam at you. “Please. You’re family now, no formality.”

Your heart did a sharp, confused skip. Family?

Brian gave you a calm, kind nod. “You’re brave to still be here. We don’t usually give warnings.”

“Usually?” you echoed, still a little dazed as Alexandria stepped forward and grinned.

“He means never,” she said, offering a quick hug. “I’m Alex. And he’s never brought anyone home.”

“Technically, I’m not home,” Auston muttered behind you.

“Semantics,” Breyana added. “I’m Bree, by the way.”

They were all… lovely. Disarming, even. The kind of family you expected to overwhelm you, but instead, their energy enveloped you like a soft blanket. And within minutes, Ema had handed you a foil-wrapped tamal and asked if you liked spice, while Brian offered to take Felix out for a quick pee break. The dog, traitorous as ever, had happily followed Auston’s dad to the door, tail wagging like he’d known him his whole life.

Only moments later, you stood in the middle of the living room, warm tamal in hand, suddenly barefoot again and still smelling vaguely of morning sex as Auston came up behind you and gently touched your lower back. “You okay?”

You nodded slowly. “Yeah, I think so. I just… weren’t they supposed to come for dinner?”

“They were. Or I thought they were,” he muttered, rubbing his temple. “This is my punishment, right? For being happy?”

You elbowed him lightly.

But the truth was… you didn’t feel punished.

You felt welcomed.

You hadn’t been prepared for them—hadn’t had time to prepare yourself. But the way Ema smiled like she already knew you, the way Alex teased Auston but turned around to compliment your sweater, the way Brian seemed to radiate calm—you were surprised by how quickly the nerves had faded.

You glanced over to see Ema setting down a tray of food, chatting with her daughters as if she already owned the place. And in a way, maybe she did. She was the kind of woman who carried home in her hands.

And about an hour later, Auston leaned closer to you and whispered, “You’re doing amazing, by the way.”

You turned to him, unable to help your small smile. “You mean not bolting out the window naked? Yeah, I’m pretty proud of that.”

He grinned. “They love you already.”

You weren’t sure if that was true. But standing there in yesterday's sweatshirt and your jeans, with the sun spilling through the windows and the scent of tamales filling the room—you kind of believed it.

A couple of hours later, the air outside was crisp but kind—the kind of rare, golden November day that felt borrowed from early October. A little miracle. The city had shed its usual grey mood for bright skies, and you were grateful for it as you tugged on Auston’s hoodie, still warm from the dryer, and followed the sound of laughter toward the front door.

Ema had insisted on a family walk. “You can’t have a Toronto visit without stretching your legs,” she said with mock sternness, already wrapping a scarf around her neck.

Felix was spinning in excited circles by the door, leash in his mouth, tail a blur. Breyana and Alex were fighting over who got to clip it on, while Auston’s dad chuckled and held the door open.

You hovered, hesitant, still unsure of your place—but Ema caught your eye and smiled, slipping an arm around your shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Come,” she said. “He listens better if someone he likes is walking next to him.”

You weren’t sure if she meant Auston or Felix.

Probably both.

The group ambled down the quiet street, Felix trotting proudly beside you, ears perked like he was showing off. The girls chatted animatedly, asking about brunch places and comparing Toronto weather to Arizona’s. Auston walked just behind you, his hand brushing yours now and then, but not quite reaching for it. Still, his nearness was like a low hum—steady, anchoring.

Every now and then, Auston would call out to the dog in a voice that made your heart do something inconvenient.

“Let’s go, Snuffleupagus.”

Or: “Keep up, Puppa.”

Or, your favourite so far: “No sniffing that, Snuffus.”

You bit back a smile the first time, but by the third, a soft laugh escaped you.

Auston glanced over. “What?”

“Nothing,” you said, grinning. “It’s just—so adorable. You really love him, huh.”

His reply was quiet, almost like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud. “And he seems to really like you.”

Felix, trotting faithfully at your side, gave a happy little huff as if in agreement.

You reached down to give him a quick scratch behind the ear, warmth blooming in your chest that had very little to do with the November sun.

Then at some point, the conversation turned to childhood.

“Oh, remember when you broke the screen door?” Alexandria nudged Auston with her elbow.

He groaned. “That was ten years ago.”

“Ten years ago, and still the loudest crash I’ve ever heard,” Breyana added. “He tried to ‘slide’ through it. Like a ninja. Ended up face-planting into the mesh.”

You laughed, startled by the image. “Were you okay?”

“I was fine. Just bruised my pride.”

“He screamed like he’d been shot,” Alexandria said.

“Okay,” Auston muttered. “Time to walk faster.”

“Oh!” Ema chimed in; her voice full of light. “Or the Halloween when he insisted on being a pirate but forgot to bring the candy bag. He tried to use his hat instead and ended up losing half his loot.”

“You guys are ruthless,” Auston grumbled, but his eyes were warm, flicking toward you like he liked the way you were laughing. Like maybe this was the version of him he wanted you to know.

You pressed closer to him, brushing your knuckles against his hand, and felt him squeeze back—just once.

And by the time you returned, the condo smelled like home in a way.

Warm, layered spices met you at the door—cumin, garlic, a little bit of chilli. Felix collapsed on the rug with a dramatic sigh, and the girls immediately kicked off their boots, bickering over who got to shower first.

Quickly, Ema swept into the kitchen again like a general with a wooden spoon. “You,” she said, pointing at Auston. “Set the table. You—” she turned to you with a smile, “—can help me with the tortillas.”

You blinked. “Me?”

She nodded. “You look like you can handle a skillet.”

And somehow, you did.

The kitchen was warm, a little crowded, but not in a bad way. You rolled dough beside her, laughing when it stuck to your palms, her hands guiding yours with practiced ease.

“Your turn,” she said, holding out the pan. You flipped a tortilla—badly—but she still whooped with encouragement.

“She’s got it!” she declared.

“Barely,” Auston called from the dining room, peeking around the doorway.

You flicked a towel at him, cheeks warm.

The conversations flowed as easily as the laughter. Ema talked about Mexico, about their old house and summers on the lake. Auston’s dad chimed in with dry humour, nodding along as the girls teased him for always getting lost on road trips.

You told them a little about your family—where you grew up, what your mother was like. You kept it light and easy. And surprisingly enough, it didn’t feel like a performance.

It felt like belonging.

And somewhere in the middle of plating food and slicing limes, you caught Auston watching you from the far end of the room.

He was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, his head tilted slightly like he didn’t want to blink.

“What?” you mouthed, smiling.

He shook his head—barely—and smiled back. But there was something in his expression. Something soft. Almost reverent.

Like watching you laugh with his mother, trade teasing glances with his sisters, flip tortillas and hum along to the Spanish radio station playing low in the background—like all of it had settled somewhere in his chest and made a home.

He didn’t say anything. But he didn’t have to.

Because at that moment, something stirred behind his eyes.

Something real.

Something dangerous.

Something maybe… like love.

_

The sun had started its slow descent beyond the windows, casting everything in a warm, syrupy glow. Dinner was done, the table still scattered with half-empty glasses and crumpled napkins, conversation softening into that comfortable after-meal hum. Auston sat beside you, his thigh resting warm against yours beneath the table, his arm stretched along the back of your chair.

Ema stood near the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishtowel as she surveyed her gathered family with quiet satisfaction. The hum of laughter still buzzed faintly from the living room, where Auston’s sisters were teasing Felix with a rope toy he’d proudly refused to relinquish.

Then she turned back to the two of you and smiled.

“I don’t mean to embarrass you,” she said, her voice warm and easy, “but it’s just… it’s really nice to see you like this, Auston. You’re glowing.”

Your breath hitched—not enough to be obvious, but enough for you to notice. You looked up slowly, unsure of where she was going.

But then Ema continued, undeterred. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you this happy. In love like this.”

The word landed softly, but it echoed sharp. You froze for half a second. Just half.

And then you smiled. Not too big, not too small. Just enough to pass. 

Auston just simply nodded, tilted his head slightly toward you, and murmured, “She makes it easy.”

Ema beamed, pleased with herself, and turned back to the dishes.

You didn’t say anything. But you felt everything.

Auston hadn’t missed that split second—that subtle freeze in your body, the millimetre of hesitation in your smile before it settled. He watched the way you slipped into the moment like second nature. No falter in your voice. No blush of panic.

You played the part perfectly. But the truth was… it wasn’t just a part anymore.

He watched you at the table, your hands curled loosely in your lap, your expression calm, your eyes soft. You looked like you belonged here. And the strange thing—what twisted low in his chest—was how natural it all felt. How natural you felt.

He couldn’t remember when it had shifted. When the pretending stopped being pretend. When he stopped bracing for the end of whatever this was and started imagining you in rooms like this. At family dinners. Laughing with his sisters. Stirring soup in his mother’s kitchen like you’d done it a hundred times before.

You weren’t his. But you were here.

And that, somehow, felt like everything.

You then turned to glance at him, catching his stare. Your smile wavered, almost sheepish. “What?” you whispered, low enough for only him to hear.

Auston simply leaned closer, just enough for his shoulder to brush yours.

“Nothing,” he murmured, a faint curve to his lips. “Just thinking how good you are at lying.”

You laughed once under your breath, quiet and wistful. “You too.”

But as you turned back toward the rest of the room—toward his mother and the warmth of her gaze—Auston watched you with something caught in his throat.

And for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t sure what parts of this story were still scripted.

Or if they ever had been.

A bit more time went by as the evening was slowly unwinding and you excused yourself quietly, brushing a hand against Auston’s thigh as you slipped out of the dining room. “Bathroom,” you whispered, offering him a soft smile before disappearing down the hallway.

Ema waited until your footsteps faded, before she glanced across the table at her son, arching an eyebrow like she had a secret she wasn’t sure she should share.

“She’s lovely,” she said simply, her voice low but firm.

Alexandria nodded from the other end of the table, already nibbling on a second helping of flan. “She’s smart, too. And funny.”

Breyana chimed in with a smirk. “And she didn’t flinch when Felix drooled on her jeans. That’s when I knew she was solid.”

They all laughed, and Auston did too—but it came out more like an exhale. He leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his jaw, eyes cast toward the empty hallway where you’d gone.

“I’m serious,” Ema continued. “You look happy, mijo. Really happy. Like it’s different with her.”

He didn’t answer right away. Just stared at the rim of his water glass, one finger circling it slowly like he was trying to think through a fog.

Because he did feel happy. Happier than he’d expected. Happier than he probably had any right to.

But he also felt something else creeping up his spine.

Guilt.

Because his family didn’t know the truth. Not really. 

They didn’t know that this had started as a deal, a performance, a calculated arrangement made in dim lighting and shared headlines. They didn’t know it wasn’t supposed to last.

And yet, sitting here now, watching the way his mother’s eyes had softened when she spoke about you, the way his sisters teased like you were already one of them—he didn’t want to break that illusion.

Didn’t want to end it.

Didn’t want to watch that light in their faces dim if they found out it wasn’t real.

Except…

It didn’t feel unreal anymore.

It felt like you, laughing in his kitchen. Like you reaching for his hand during a walk. Like your clothes in his drawer and your head on his chest and your scent on his pillow.

Maybe it had started as pretend. But somehow, somewhere along the way… He’d stopped acting.

_

The house quieted slowly.

After hours of chatter, plates scraped clean, wine glasses clinking and Felix’s tail thumping at every dropped morsel, the stillness came like a blanket draped gently over everything. Auston’s sisters had taken over the guest room with their chargers and shared skincare routines, while his dad flipped through channels in the living room, volume low. Ema had insisted on doing the dishes—“You’re still my children,” she’d scolded kindly—before retreating to the upstairs bedroom with a yawn and a reminder to “get some sleep, you two.”

Now it was just the two of you again.

Back in his bedroom, you peeled off your sweater with a quiet breath. Auston toed off his socks and stretched, the hem of his shirt rising to reveal the soft line of his stomach. His eyes found yours across the room.

There was no rush. No need for it.

The door clicked softly closed, and you both moved at the same time.

He met you halfway, arms sliding around your waist as your fingers curled into the collar of his tee. The kiss was light at first—almost cautious. But your bodies had missed each other, even in a house full of love and laughter, and the moment your mouths met again, it was like gravity pulling you back into orbit.

He kissed you like it was habit. Like this, right here, was the only place that made sense.

His hands ran over your lower back, fingers skating over the curve of your spine. Yours dipped into the waistband of his sweats, pulling him flush to you, warm and firm and already half hard.

“Finish what we started?” he asked, his voice low, lips brushing your jaw.

You answered by moving your arms behind your back and unclasping your bra.

There was no teasing this time. No games. Just quiet urgency.

You crawled onto the bed, settling into the familiar shape of the sheets, and he followed. Auston hovered above you, eyes drinking you in, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheekbone before he kissed you again—deeper now, slower.

Everything was slower.

His mouth moved down your neck, then lower still, every kiss deliberate. Reverent. Your breaths tangled. Your fingers dug into his hair as he took his time, like he wasn’t just touching you but learning you all over again.

And when he finally pressed inside you, it was with a sigh against your skin.

You gasped, arching just enough to meet his thrust, your legs curling around his hips. It wasn’t rough or fast. It was rhythm. Connection. A silent thank you for this moment, for this closeness, for this absurd, aching thing you’d built together.

His forehead dropped to yours. His hand slipped between your bodies, finding your clit with the kind of easy focus that made your whole body tremble.

You moaned, trying to hide it under a whisper. But you were unsuccessful, which had him grinning. 

“Gotta be quiet,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your jaw.

“Then stop making me feel  this good,” you breathed, biting back another sound as his hips rolled deeper.

The moans that followed were barely a murmur, but it filled the space like a spark in the dark. You covered your mouth at one point when a particularly deep thrust made you whimper too loudly. He shushed you playfully, nipping at your collarbone, and you could barely breathe for the warmth that bloomed between your ribs.

It felt like falling. It felt like home.

And when you finally came, it was with your forehead pressed to his, his name on your lips, your bodies flush and trembling and perfectly, devastatingly tangled.

Auston then followed just moments later, burying his face in your neck as he let go with a soft groan, muffled by skin and the quiet thrill of being caught in something neither of you had the words for.

And afterwards, you simply lay together under the weight of warm sheets and lazy limbs. Auston’s hand traced idle circles along your hip. Felix huffed from the foot of the bed, curled into a donut like he’d been there the whole time.

Neither of you spoke for a while. There was no need.

Because in that sleepy hush—bodies sated, hearts uncertain but held—you didn’t need declarations.

You just needed this.

Him. And the way he looked at you like maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t pretending anymore.

_

“Dearest Toronto readers,

Oh, my. You didn’t actually think the Queen would fall, did you?

Because if you were paying attention, you’d know she never needed rescuing. She’s worn every scar like a jewel, every secret like armour. But tonight—tonight was different.

Tonight, she chose to be held.

No crowns were tilted, no declarations made. And yet something has undeniably shifted. The Ice King, once so careful to guard his throne, let someone beneath the frost. Let someone in. And we saw it—in the way he watched her laugh with his family, in the way his hands didn’t seek to claim, but to comfort. In the quiet, slow-burning kind of touch that makes kings into men.

So maybe this was never about strategy. Maybe it’s not about headlines or public appearances anymore. Maybe this isn’t a performance.

Maybe it’s surrender.

And darlings, surrender—when done right—is the most powerful move of all.

Until next time.

Yours always,

The Benchwarmer”

[mint-moon25]

DEAR - PINK - LOVIES,

AS - GIRLS - ARE - USUALLY

THEIR - ONLY - FANS

I - THINK - ABOUT - MERCHANDISE

SERIOUSLY - NO - KOREAN - K POP

HAS - $1.27 BILLION - DAILY

OR NETWORTH $1.9 TRILLION USD

THEY - HAVE - EXPENSIVE - ITEMS

AMERICAN - GIRL - BRUNETTE

WHO - HAS - BLOND - HIGHLIGHTS

LAPTOP - SHE - WAS - SMILING AT

PERSON - SHE - TALKED - TO

NO ONE - HERE - GOT - THAT SMILE

THAT's - A - NATION

NO ONE - SMILES - AT - YOU

KOREAN - MOM - AND SON

WOULD - HAVE - DIED - OF

ACUTE - HUNGER A - LONG

TIME - AGO - AND - DRUGGED

WITH - DEPAKOTE

THIS - NATION - MIGHT - HAVE

SOLD - WITHOUT - CONSENT

THEIR - KIDNEYS - AND BLADDERS

AMERICAN - SMILES - ONLY GOES

2 - WHO - THEY - SHOW - THEIR

NUDITY - 2

WHO - THEY - MARRY

UNTIL - THEY - HAVE - SIDE KICKS

AS - THEY - COMMIT - ADULTERY

3 GUYS - 2 - THE - SIDES

AS - MARRIED - CHURCH - GOERS

HUSBAND - FINDS - OUT

SHOOTS - HER - 2 - DEATH

ARRESTED - LIFE - PRISON

THAT - IS - THE - UNITED STATES

WHO - THEY - SMILE - AT

WHO - THEY - GO - ALL - THE WAY

WITH - WHY - I - LOVE - EUROPE

THE - MOST - AND - FRANCE AND

THEIR - CHILDREN - NO 1 - TO ME

DEAR - PINK LOVIES,

COMING - FR - A - COUNTRY - WHO

ARE - VERY - FRIENDLY - YOU'RE

GREATFUL - YOU'RE - ALIVE - AS

YOU - SEE - WHAT's - OUT - THERE

WE'RE - 175 DEGREES - VOLCANIC

MOISTURE - HEAT

AS - THEY - SMILE - ALL THE TIME

EUROPEAN - SMALL - COUNTRIES

BEST - PLACE - 2 B - SNOW - AND

COLD - RELIEF - BUT - NEW

FAMILIES - 2 - OUR - LIVES

HOW - ORGANIZED - THEY

ARE - HOW - THEY'VE - SOLVED

MANY - THINGS ...

Cedars-Sinai in Los Angeles is known for its high prices, as reported by The Los Angeles Times. While it's not specifically mentioned how much it charges for twins born in Manhattan, it is possible to estimate the cost by considering the typical pricing for a single delivery and the additional services needed for a twin birth. 

Here's a breakdown:

Standard Maternity Suites:Cedars-Sinai offers various levels of maternity suites, some of which may include full-sized tubs, recessed lighting, and soft colors. A two-room suite with one bath can be had for $2,847 a day. 

Twin Delivery:Twin deliveries often require additional services like specialized monitoring for both babies, potentially longer hospital stays, and possibly a higher likelihood of complications or interventions. These factors could increase the overall cost of the delivery. 

Estimated Cost:While a precise cost for a twin delivery at Cedars-Sinai in Manhattan is difficult to determine, it's reasonable to expect that the cost would be higher than a single delivery due to the added services and potential complications. 

To get a more accurate estimate, you'd need to contact Cedars-Sinai directly for a price quote, as it is a Los Angeles hospital. 

CEDAR SINAI - LOS ANGELES - NEW YORK

AT - LEAST

$2,847 DAILY - FOR - REGULAR

ESTIMATE

$5,000 - DAILY - 2 B - PREPARED

AS - AGE 18 - KNOCKED - UP

SHE - WAS - ILLEGALLY - DRUNK

SO EXPENSIVE BEING PREGNANT

MONTHLY - CHECKS

HARD - PLACE - 2 BE

LEGAL - PERMIT

MAGIC - KINGDOM

MEDICAL - CENTER

FREE - BABY - DELIVERY

FREE - DENTAL

FREE - SURGERY

ALL - AGES - SEPARATED BY AGES

FREE - MEDICAL - CHECKS

DEAR - PINK - LOVIES,

14TH - AMENDMENT

NO - US STATE - CAN - CREATE - OR

MAKE - LAWS

ONLY - LAWS - CONSTITUTION AND

THE - AMENDMENTS

NO - US STATE - OR - RESIDENTS OR

POLITICIANS - CAN - DEPRIVE - A

PERSON - OF - PROPERTY

GUESS ?

PRESIDENT - DONALD TRUMP

REPUBLICAN - THINKING - OF

BANNING - BARBIE - AS - DOLL ?

HER - BREASTS - 2 - HUGE ?

BUT - HUSTLER - MAGAZINE

GIRL - KISSING - GIRL - ON

COVER - BUTTOCK - SHOWING

PLAYBOY - MAGAZINE

CONTINUES ?

Mattel has a significant presence in Asia, with Barbie dolls being popular in many countries. 

The company has produced various Asian-themed Barbie dolls, such as "Dolls of the World" series featuring dolls from different Asian countries like Japan, China, and Korea. 

Some Asian countries have their own Barbie lines, like Licca-chan in Japan. 

Barbie has also collaborated with Asian toy companies, like Takara and Bandai. 

Barbie dolls are also popular in Europe, with a wide range of dolls available. 

BarbiePedia notes that Mattel has licensed Barbie production to companies in Europe, including Spain, Germany, and Portugal. 

Some European countries have their own exclusive Barbie dolls, such as the Steffie Standard EU Barbie Doll. 

There are also many Barbie collectors in Europe who actively seek out rare and collectible dolls. 

Dolls of the World: Mattel's series of dolls that represent different countries and cultures. 

Celebrity and Designer Collaborations: Barbie has partnered with various celebrities and designers to create unique dolls, some of which have been released in specific regions. 

Cultural and Historical Themes: Barbie has also released dolls that celebrate cultural events or historical periods, such as Lunar New Year Barbies or Barbies inspired by fashion icons. 

Tracing the history of “Asian” Barbie - Kelly KasulisFeb 1, 2016 — In total, Mattel created 17 “Dolls of the World” Barbies between 1981 and 2012. The 1990s recreated some of these Barbi...Kelly Kasulis

Visual guide to Asian Barbie : r/DollsOfAsia - RedditJan 10, 2024 — I want to take a quick moment to mention that Barbie has created and worked directly with other Asian brands to make d...Reddit

Barbie: Dolls of the World - We-R-Toys* Barbie Dolls of the World France 2012 Mattel X8420. ... * Italian Barbie Doll 1979 Mattel 1602. ... * Barbie Modern Filipina Do...We-R-Toys

US PRES TRUMP - SAID - IF - MATTEL, INC.

DOESN'T - MANUFACTURE - THEIR DOLLS

IN - THE - USA

TAXES - 100%

BUT - COMPANY - SAYS - 2 - MAKE

DOLLS - IN - USA - COSTS - 2 HIGH

4 - AMERICAN BUYERS

MY - REPLY - CORRECT

Sixteenth Amendment Income Tax

The Congress shall have power to lay and collect taxes on incomes, from whatever source derived, without apportionment among the several States, and without regard to any census or enumeration.

WHY - DOES - REPUBLICAN - PRES

CAN - TAX - MATTEL - 100% ?

HE - HAS - 2 - ASK - CONGRESS

2 - LAY - AND - COLLECT - TAX

ON - MATTEL, INC.

BUT - 100% ?

Eighth Amendment

Eighth Amendment Explained

Excessive bail shall not be required, nor excessive fines imposed, nor cruel and unusual punishments inflicted.

RUSSIAN - FEDERATION - USED TO

HAVE - 100% - TAXES

100% - TAXES - ON - MATTEL, INC. ?

'cruel and unusual punishments inflicted'

BY - CONGRESS - MAJORITY - RULING

REPUBLICAN - PARTY

DEMOCRATIC - PARTY

THAT - IS - WHY

PHILIPPINE - REPUBLIC

MONARCHY

NO - GOVERNMENT

TAX - CRIME - SMOKE - FREE

NO - MORE - POLITICIANS

JUST - DELEGATION OF

POWER

EQUALITY

MALE - AND - FEMALE - 2

FILL - UP - VOTED - OFFICES

ONLY - FEMALE

ONLY - MALE

OFFICE - WILL - REMAIN OPEN

PRIME MINISTERS

SECRETARIES

TREASURERS

LIEUTENANT - COMMANDERS

2ND - LIEUTENANTS

APP - FREE - VOTING - 24/7

ALL - PAID - 2 - VOTE

ALL - AGES ....

DEAR - PINK - LOVIES,

BIBLE - NATIONS - WILL - NEVER

GET - WHAT - THEY - WANT

BYEON WOO SEOK - 6'3 FT

ROWOON - 6'3 FT

EUN WOO CHA - 6 FT

REN - NCT - DREAM - 5'8 FT

I FORGOT - HIS - HEIGHT

DEAR - PINK - LOVIES,

AESPA - ITZY - RED VELVET

BARBIE - DOLLS

BOYS - ABOVE - AS - DOLLS

DOLLS - FOR - 19 AND OLDER

DOLLS - FOR - BABIES

DOLLS - FOR - 12 & YOUNGER

DOLLS - FOR - 13 AND 14

DOLLS - FOR - 15 AND 16

DOLLS - FOR - 17 AND 18

MIFFY - EUROPE - DOING

SO - WELL

I - THINK - LESS - IMMORALITY

LESS - STRANGERS - ALL - THE

WAY - IF - KOREA - JAPAN - AND

TAX FREE - HONG KONG ISLAND

CHINA - SINGAPORE

LESS - IMMORALITY

IF - GIRLS - CAN - HAVE - DOLLS

LIKE - THE - ABOVE

KOREAN - CHINESE - MALE STARS

WE - SELL - THE - CLOTHES

WE'RE - SELLING - HUGE VERSION

2 - PUT - MAKE UP - ON - THEM

OUR - TOKYO - MALE SCIENTISTS

WILL - GET - LEGAL - PERMISSION

LOVE ALWAYS, LLC.

NON-CONTRACT - AGENCY - FOR

LOCAL - INTERNATIONAL - STARS

GBC - FILMS - TV - RADIO STUDIOS

GBC - ENTERTAINMENT

FAMILY - SINGLES - KIDS

GBC - FAMILY

GBC - MERCHANDISE

WE'RE - GETTING - LEGAL - PERMIT

2 - SELL - RIGHT - SIZES

2 - SELL - DOLLS

31 KOREAN - STARS - WHO - KILLED

THEMSELVES ...

LEGAL - PERMIT

THEY - ALL - BELIEVED - IN

SOMETHING ...

LIKE - SAVE - THE - BABY - WHALES

MONEY - GENERATED

LEGAL - PERMIT

SEOUL - LAWYERS

LAW - MAKERS ...

KOREAN - INTERNATIONAL - JAPAN

LAWS - 2 - PROTECT - FAMILIES

PROTECTING - GIRLS - SINGLES

PROTECTING - KIDS

PROTECTING - HOUSEHOLDS

DOLLS - THEY - CAN - HOLD

ALL - OF - A - SUDDEN

HOUSEHOLD - BECOMES LIKE

A - FORT - 2 - DEFEND - AND

PROTECT - OUR - HIGH FORTRESS

PROTECT - OUR - HOMES ...

OUR - BEAUTIFUL - GBC - FILMS

TV - EPISODES

ALL - STARS - WILL - BECOME

THE - MOST - BEAUTIFUL DOLLS

WHO - FANS - CAN - HOLD - IN

THEIR - HANDS

DOLLS - ALSO - U - CAN - PUT

MAKE - UP - LIPSTICK - ON

IMPROVE - THEIR - LOOKS

DRESS - THEM - UP

WILL - DEVELOP - YOUR TALENTS

WHAT - EDUCATION - THEY - WILL

PURSUE - IN - THE - FUTURE

THE - MAKE UP - ARTISTS - OF

KOREAN - STARS

ARE - GIRLS ?

YET - THEY'RE - NOT - ALLOWED

2 - DATE ? NOT - ALLOWED

MARRIAGE ?

DOES - BYEON WOO SEOK - 6'3 FT

IS - HE - NOT - ALLOWED - DATING ?

NOT - ALLOWED - 2 - MARRY ?

DEAR - PINK - LOVIES,

STARTING - IN - PARIS - FRANCE

PAG-IBIG - MAGAZINES

PAG-IBIG - NUDITY - GIRLS ONLY

INTRODUCING

NUDE - LIFESTYLE

BIBLE - VERSES

INTRODUCING

DIY - WOMEN

WONDER - WOMEN

BOND - WOMEN

INTRODUCING

INTERNATIONAL - SPY - SCHOOLS

INTERNATIONAL - SPY - COLLEGES

SINCE - KOREAN - STAR

BYEON WOO SEOK - 6'3 FT

CONTRACTED - AND NOT ALLOWED

MARRIAGE ?

IN - PURSUIT - OF - KOREAN - WON ?

PAG-IBIG - TV - STUDIOS

WE'RE - SELLING - FRIED - CHICKEN

BEEF - AND - RAMEN - NOODLES

STEAK - AND - LOBSTERS

TOPLESS - FULL - NUDITY

PAG-IBIG - CHANNEL

HOW - IT - WORKS

900 BILLION - EUROS - X - 500

EVERY - 15 MINUTES

WE - DELETE - 24 HRS - IF YOU

CHANGE - YOUR - MIND

WITH - MASK - OR - WITHOUT

TOPLESS - OR - FULL NUDITY

WEARING - JEWELRY

FAUX - FUR

THIGHS - LINGERIE

PERFUME

COUTURE - HIGH HEELS

BODY - JEWELS - GLUED

FILMING - IN - EUROPE - ALSO

SELLING - FRIED - CHICKEN

TV - ADS

SHE'S - SINGING - A - SONG

TAKING - A - SHOWER

BUT - U C - HER - NUDITY

NICE - LARGE - MIRROR

WE'RE - ONLY SHOWCASING

BEAUTIFUL - WOMEN - ONLY

DRINKING - AGE

RELIGIOUS - ENTRY

TONGUES ONLY

SINGERS - ONLY

SHE'S - NOW - TOPLESS

PUTTING - MAKE UP ON

WHILE - ON - SOFA

SHE'S - SAYING

75% - OFF

TODAY

11P - 12P - PARIS

2P - 3P - PARIS

5P - 6P - PARIS

8P - 9P - PARIS

INCLUDES - PROMOTIONS

FREE - DELIVERY

ORDER - BY - APP - ONLY 2

75% - FRIED - CHICKEN

CODE - 123

SHE - SAYS - THIS - TOPLESS

AS - SHE - PUTS - ROBE

2 - GET - HER - PIZZA - WHAT

THEIR - DELIVERY - PERSON

LOOKS - LIKE - IN - PARIS FR

SINCE - BYEON WOO SEOK

KOREAN - NOT - ALLOWED

MARRIAGE - I'M - USING THIS

TIME - 2 - DO - WHAT - I WANT

2 - DO - WITH - MY - BODY

STARTING - MAGAZINE - EMPIRE

IN - PARIS - FRANCE

WHERE - U - CAN'T - BE - FIRED

FROM - WORK

BEING - KOREAN - STAR

CONTRACTED - LIFE - THAT

COST - 31 KOREAN's - LIVES

NO - CHANGES - MADE

SO - WE - MAKE - THE - CHANGE

'PINK - LOVE'

YOU'RE - BE - ABLE - 2 - VIEW

ME - ONLINE - FIRST

WORKING - WITH

DREAM FM - RADIO

PHILIPPINE - REPUBLIC

PARIS - FRANCE

SINGING - LIVE - PER - HOUR

GBC - FILMS - RADIO - ALSO

WILL - HAVE - TINIEST - CDs

EXCLUSIVELY - FROM SONY

YOU - CAN - BUY - MY MUSIC

ONLINE - BECAUSE - I'M - A

NUDE - MODEL

HOPE - THEY - ALLOW - ME 2

DO - CONCERTS - IN - ASIA 2

PAG-IBIG - MAGAZINES

BLURAY - TV - ADS

SMALLEST - SIZES

EXCLUSIVE - BY - SONY

AUTO - REPEAT

WON'T - BE - ABLE - 2 B

BROUGHT - OUT - OF - FRANCE

MAGAZINES - ALSO CAN'T

LEAVE - FRANCE - 4 - ANY

REASON

EUROPE - HAS - HUGE - NUDITY

SO - WE'RE - SAFER - THERE

900 BILLION - EUROS - X - 500

TAX - PAID - PER - 15 MINUTES

I - WANT - 2 - DO - IT

SINCE - NO ONE - WANTS - ME

BUT - OLD - WRINKLED

HISPANICS - AND BLKS

THEY - STALK - ME

BLK - AMERICAN - WOMEN

LESBIANS - STALK - ME SO

MOVING - ALSO - 2 - PARIS

FRENCH - POLICE

PROTECT - ASIAN WOMEN

FR - BLKS & HISPANICS - 2

FINISHING - MY EDUCATION

UNIVERSITY - OF - PARIS

PAINTER

LE CORDON BLEU

COOKING - BAKING

PRIVATE - TUTORSHIP

COUTURE & FASHION DESIGN

ARCHITECTURE

ELECTRIC - LICENSING

SO - I'M - STARTING - WITH

LITTLE PARIS - REPLACING

LITTLE HAVANA

STARTING - IN - PARIS - FR

SINCE - KOREAN - MALE

STARS - ARE - CONTRACTED

NOT - 1 KOREAN MALE STAR

HAS - PROTESTED

2 YRS - MILITARY - SERVICE

AWAY - FR - WOMEN - AND

THEIR - WIVES - & - FAMILY

NAKED - SHOWERS

BROTHERHOOD - OF - MEN

KOREAN MEN - USUALLY

ARE - EXTREMELY - GAY

FOR - MORE - THAN

1 MILLION - YEARS

THEIR - CROWN - PRINCE

ALWAYS - WITH - MALES 2

SO - DEAR - PINK - LOVIES,

WANTED - 2 - SHARE - MY

FUTURE

KOREAN - MALE - STARS

CONTRACTED - ARE NOT

ALLOWED - 2 - MARRY

IN - PURSUIT - OF WON

JESUS - IS - LORD

BIBLE - 'WHAT - GOD - HAS

JOINED TOGETHER LET NO

MAN - SEPARATE'

SEPARATED - BY - KOREAN

LAWS - GOVERNMENT - BY

CONTRACTS - BY PARENTS

KOREANS - AGE OF - CONSENT

ALLOWED - IMMORAL

PENETRATION - BREASTS YES

TOUCHED - THIGHS - OPEN - 2

NOT - ALLOWED - ABORTION

BUT - KOREANS - ARE - OLD

WHEN - THEY - MARRY

WHEN - THEY - PRODUCE

THEIR - BABIES

VERY - PAINFUL

YOUNGER - IS - MORE BLESSED

JESUS - CHRIST - IS - LORD - KR

THANKS - PINK - LOVIES

ME - 'PINK - LOVE'

2 - HAVE - MY - DOLLS

MALES FANS - PINK LOVES

FREE - MEMBERSHIP

RELIGIOUS - ENTRY

SPEAK - TONGUES

500 BILLION - WON

SING - TONGUES

500 BILLION - WON

TAX - PAID

2 - HAVE - MY - DOLLS

CLICK - RIGHT - REASON

2 - HAVE - ME - AS DOLL

PINK - LOVIES

EXCLUSIVE - WITH - OUR

FREE - MEMBERSHIP

ME - AS - DOLLS

VARIOUS - SIZES

MALES - PINK - LOVES

CLICK - REASON - WHY

U - WANT - MY - DOLLS

EXCLUSIVE - WITH

MEMBERSHIP - FREE

MY - DOLLS IN FUTURE

Giselle ♡ Supernova MBC Gayo 250130

[reijisteacup]

can you do headcanons for sakamaki bros with a tomboy S/O? I see a lot of people saying yui is a tomboy, but i think the west has a VERY different idea of tomboy. Baggy jeans, big racing jackets and sneakers

My type of style... I love a grungy baddie <3 I agree with you on the different interpretations though.

================================================================================================

Sakamaki's

Shu Sakamaki:

“…Tch. You dress like a delinquent.” At first, Shu just lifts an eyebrow at your outfits and shrugs. But deep down, he likes that you’re not trying to impress anyone. No frilly skirts, no perfume—just vibes and sneakers. You don’t freak out when he drapes himself over you, and you casually shove him off when he gets too annoying. He grumbles, “Brat…” but secretly enjoys it. Also, if you steal his oversized shirts? He acts indifferent but will lie awake thinking about it for hours.

Reiji Sakamaki:

“I insist you change. This… attire is disgraceful.” Reiji nearly has an aneurysm the first time you show up to tea in a racing jacket. He HATES your “slouchy posture” and “unrefined speech.” He lectures you constantly—“A lAdy mUsT pResENt heRselF WiTh diGniTY”—but when you give a sharp, sarcastic retort while swinging your leg over the arm of a chair, he falters. “…You’re insufferable,” he says, with a blush. He’ll never admit he finds your authenticity refreshing. But he buys you designer sneakers and pretends it's just “to keep up appearances.”

Laito Sakamaki:

“Bitch-chan, you look like you’re about to rob me~ I love it.” Laito is 100% fascinated. You defy every standard he's used to: no frills, no begging, no cooing—just a tired “can you not flirt right now?” The more you act unfazed, the more he leans in. He’ll tug on your jacket drawstrings, touch your collarbones under oversized shirts, and call you “cool~” with a smirk. But then you shoot back a dry, “Get a grip, perv,” and he literally swoons. He’s all about the game, and you’re not playing it. Which makes you the best challenge of all.

Kanato Sakamaki:

“…Why do you look like a boy?” (NIE KANATO) Kanato stares at you like you’re an alien at first. Your tough exterior unnerves him—he expects submissiveness, not sarcasm. But then you punch a guy who touches your jacket and calmly say, “Back off, creep,” and his eyes sparkle. “…You’re scary. I like that.” He demands you still “hold his hand properly” and lets you know you’re “his and only his,” but he doesn’t mind your outfits anymore. Also, if you ever let him paint your nails black while in your hoodie and jeans? He’s obsessed.

Ayato Sakamaki:

“Oi! Why do you dress like you’re about to street race me?!” Ayato is SO confused—but so into it. You’re loud, cocky, and totally down to roughhouse. You wear baggy pants that make it impossible to tell if you're carrying a weapon or snacks. He challenges you to dumb competitions constantly—arm wrestling, basketball, who can eat more takoyaki. And when you tackle him to the couch in a mock fight? He’s like, “Tch, don’t get cocky!” (but he’s blushing the whole time). Secretly thinks you’re the coolest girl alive.

Subaru Sakamaki:

“…Wha—hey! Don’t sit like that! You’re not a dude!” Subaru is flustered 1000% of the time. He’s confused why you dress like a biker, swear like a sailor, and punch vending machines when they eat your yen. But when you stare down a threatening vampire with zero fear and say, “You wanna throw hands, Sparkles?”—he falls a little in love. He eventually accepts your style and even starts walking on the side of the street nearest the cars like a protective boyfriend. If you ever give him your jacket when he’s cold? He turns tomato red. “D don’t do stuff like that! It’s embarrassing…”

[yoroshiu]

Characterization Through Language: Ventus (Kingdom Hearts)

Ven, Venny, Ventus, Ven Diagram—this is a character that has some interesting things going on. So what's he like in the Japanese dub?

For a fun start, here's a clip for JPN Ven:

WHY DID I BECOME SMALL?????

CV: Kouki Uchiyama (Toge Inumaki (Jujutsu Kaisen), Kei Tsukishima (Haikyuu!!), Izumi Miyamura (Horimiya), Razor (Genshin Impact))

And of course, Roxas.

Ventus cutscene vs Roxas cutscene

I believe Ven makes use of Uchiyama-san's higher tones more often than Roxas does. And Ven's voice is probably what you'd expect it to sound in the Japanese dub.

~~~

Ventus's preferred 1st Person pronoun ("I") is: "Ore" - 俺 (with an interesting exception)

This is just about what you'd expect from him. Other than being of the same age with similar dispositions, Ven and Sora (and Roxas) sharing similar speaking styles makes a lot of sense considering their connection. This also follows into how they use their "you" pronouns.

("I'm Ventus, [calling me] Ven is fine.") (I'm Ventus, call me Ven")

("ore ha Ventus, Ven de iiyo.") ("ore Ventus, Ven te yonde")

He has quite a few ways of introducing himself so I wanted to share those two LOL.

("We'll laugh together when we meet again.") (Ven uses "oretachi" (俺たち) which is "we")

However, there is a sequence of him using "boku" (僕) and that's in the beginning of BBS when his heart is shattered -> put back together because of Sora. (Sora's heart does this too and I FORGOT, I'm going to make a separate follow-up post with this I'M SO MAD AT MYSELF FOR FORGETTING THAT UNTIL NOW LOL)

("This is my heart though")

I do wonder why this is the case. Maybe the damage kinda took him back to a state akin to a new heart? It's an interesting moment I feel.

Ventus's preferred 2nd Person pronoun ("You") is: "Kimi" - 君 and "Omae" - おまえ

These are also used similarily to Sora. He defaults to "kimi" with strangers/friends and goes to "omae" for enemies/antagonizing forces/creatures (aka Stitch)/same level people (not being really polite). He also has the same tendency to refer to people by their names (like Terra, Aqua, Herc, etc.) as Sora does.

("I see, you're also alone—") (Again, is it okay if [I] become one with your heart?") (Eh, you're Sora?) (use of "kimi")

("You! Why did [you] come here!") ("Your's too—") (Use of "omae")

~~~

Ven does/can switch his speaking style depending on who he's talking to. When speaking to someone who's clearly older of a higher status, he switches to "desu/masu" form, contrasting his usual plain style of speaking.

("I'm looking for my friend.") ("Please stop master, my power is not good enough")

In these two cases, Ven says "desu" which is a standard polite/formal way of ending a sentence. Considering who he's talking to (Even and Xehanort), this makes sense. I think there are other characters who do this more extremely, but Ven is definitely aware of differences in social standings.

~~~

Clips:

"TERAAAAAAAA"

"Thank you for protecting me up until now, Sora"

"AQUAAAA"

"Connected hearts are my power!"

~~~

So basically, he, Sora, and Roxas aren't too far apart in terms of speaking habits. I do think Ven has an easier time switching to more formal forms when talking to others though.

As with the other cases, not too much is lost from the jump from one dub to another, so there isn't many huge discoveries. The "boku" thing is interesting to me but I'm not too sure what that would entail, especially since it's not like he spoke like that in the Union x era.

Either way, thank for reading!

Up next should be Roxas! Back to back Uchiyama-san!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Making Kingdom Hearts Stuff Until KH4 Comes Out (Day 121)

[myauditionfordrphil]

Dude people acting like Pakistan is Palestine and India is Israel is just pissing me off. "India is killing innocent civilians!" And when Pakistani terrorists kill Indian civilians it's crickets. When Pakistan tries to bomb densely populated Indian cities it's crickets. But India retaliating is "genocide" apparently. And Pakistan funding terrorists with tax money from civilians while so many people live in crippling poverty isn't genocide? Just because Islamophobia exists doesn't mean religious extremists who kill innocent people are in the right. Istg they were trying to blame their failure of their own people on others and this situation has given them a golden opportunity to get sympathy from the other Muslim countries and paint India as their villain.

So trueee like having the audacity to compare India's actions to the inhumane, unspeakable atrocities that Israel has commited is preposterous. The double standards are really getting to me now. Some really popular pages whose content is based upon Palestine and raising awareness are supporting Pakistan (and before anyone even gets the idea that I am against pro-Palestinian content, check my page for once, I will advocate for a free Palestine till the end of my life) because innocents are dying - and as much sympathy I have for any innocent dying on either side of the border - where were all these concerns when Indian citizens were dying in a similar way? Are their lives not as valuable? But then it's the India's fault because apparently these people are dying because of the actions of the country completely ignoring the fact that the very reason terrorism has reached such a peak is the corruption and extremism in the Pakistani military and the incapability of the government. Their people are suffering because their leaders have decided to make their land a breeding ground for terrorism, because their leaders decided to be the lapdog of big world governments and do their dirty work. As for trying to paint Pakistan as a victim to get support from Islamic states, I'll be very honest, I have no belief in these Islamic states. They never stood up for Palestine, they never helped Syria, or Lebanon, or Sudan, or Congo and god knows how many Muslim countries - hell Saudi is itself bombing Yemen. They are a bunch of spineless cowards who can only speak false sugar coated words. Religion has been twisted by man, it has been turned into a source of politics, of manipulation, of spreading communal hate. These terrorists who claim to operate in the name of Islam can be anything but a Muslim because I - and a million other Muslims who actively practice Islam and have deep rooted faith in our religion - have clearly been following a different religion than them. We haven't read the same Quran (with both linguistic and social context not only translation) or follow the same moral values that our teaches teaches us. I am a Muslim and I have faced islamophobia more times than I can count. Living in India - especially in recent years - as a muslim is not easy, Islamophobia is very prevalent and if you raise your voice against it you're suddenly anti-national, an invader and have to listen to "agar itni hi problem hai toh yaha pe reh hi kyu rahe ho, go to Pakistan" - just because you condemn the very obvious prejudice and discrimination. It's not easy having to constantly give the proof of your loyalty and love to your country, to have your patriotism be questioned at every step, to be viewed either as a Muslim or as an Indian but never both. But no amount of suffering validates wishing the same atrocities on someone else. It is the same thing as saying that the genocide that Israel is committing is justified because jews faced antisemitism and the holocaust. I have been advocating for peace since day one, wanting the war to be stopped. But that step cannot be taken by one side. You cannot expect India to remain silent when Pakistan continues to instigate violence. War has never bought any good to anyone. It only brings destruction, it is never the answer. Only those who don't face the adversity of war wishes for one to be started. And it's about time that Pakistan realizes this.

[a-litt1e-emo]

I made another Mairon redesign!

Ta-da! Ik I made one a few months ago but galaxy brained and I like this one a lot better tbh.

Notes on the design:

- one of the main things I considered with this was making Mairon not embody his own values and standards.

- the hair was part of this. I wanted to give him voluminous, hard-to-control hair to show that, try as he might, he can’t control anything fully. He can’t decide what emotions he feels, and he is often driven by emotion more than he wants. (Also bc that hair texture is a. gorgeous and b. super fun to draw)

- i tried to give him a softish look, as well, to subvert expectations and also bc that sharp appearance = danger thing is a lil overused. I also want to create some contrast between his original Mairon form and the forms he’ll take as Sauron, to illustrate that he’s a dynamic character, too. I want Mairon specifically to have less villain vibes and more… idk, main love interest vibes, since those two are about as far away as you can get. (In the kind of story I’m talking about, anyway)

- Also, I gave him a cleft lip & palate bc I hc that more “traditional” (aka conservative) elves view things like body differences as curses, or signs that Illuvatar dislikes you. This isn’t true, but that’s how they percieve it. Opinions like this were unfortunately very very common in Valinor early on, so Mairon has that heavily internalized. Dealing with this stigma gave him a lot of that perfectionism, and it also served to keep him from having any sort of support network, making it much easier for Melkor to turn him to his side. (Also bc I wanted to try drawing it and idk it just fits)

- (also most elves are better with that by the 3rd age)

- (if this is offensive pls tell me! I don’t have a cleft/facial difference myself, so I’m not an expert on the situation. I tried to emphasize that the thing that messed him up was society’s negative reaction to it, but if I offended anyone pls don’t hesitate to tell me!)

- I also tried to really emphasize the forge spirit side of things- I just think that’s really cool ^^

- I did that with the eyes (also Eye of Sauron related ofc) and the hair

- The makeup serves 2 purposes: To show how Mairon puts up a front most of the time, and bc it looks cool and I like drawing makeup

- Final note: this was meant to be a reference for me but I got distracted, so there are no clothes/piercings/accessories involved. Mairon would wear so much jewelry but more on that later hopefully

(Timelapse & refs under the cut)

Timelapse:

(I got distracted a few times)

Refs: (mostly from Pinterest or google)

[five-rivers]

Ancestral Chapter 29

For Dannymay Day 7: Blood Blossoms

So, the first stumbling block was that no one had made dinner.  Of course no one had made dinner.  The fight had sent everyone to their own private corners, and, as far as Danny knew, only the younger generation had come out - and that was for the purpose of plotting.  Not cooking.  

It wasn’t that surprising, honestly.  Although everyone here could cook, most of the family wasn’t all that used to doing their own cooking.  They were royalty, or at least nobility.  Kyr Argyn had a dedicated team of chefs (all of whom were under heavy suspicion, regarding the deaths).  When the stress had reached its tipping point and the fight had happened, no one had really thought about what they should do for dinner.

The lack of surprise didn’t make the situation any more convenient.  

Maddie, after scowling at the cabinets for a while, instead called down to the security team, for them to order food.  “I know it will take longer,” she said, “but if I had to cook for them, I’d lose my temper before we even started.”

Danny thought that was probably an accurate assessment, since she was losing her temper now, but it did leave him and Jazz sitting in the kitchen with their parents instead of making plans to keep the family alive.  

“So,” said Jazz, “you mentioned a compromise?  Do we get to hear it now, or do we have to wait for everyone else?”

“Well,” said Jack, “your mother and I talked about it, and we want to have very firm boundaries and expectations.  These things that your cousins want you to do are very dangerous.”

“More dangerous than living in Amity Park and fighting ghosts?” asked Jazz, dryly.  “Because that’s what you want us to do.”

“That’s different,” said Maddie.  

“How?” demanded Jazz.  

“Because we can protect you.  Because we aren’t lying to you about what the dangerous part is!”  She took a breath.  “Jazz, I know you’re frustrated, but you’re not pulling me into another fight.”

“I wasn’t trying to, I just want to know what you’re thinking.  We have time.”

“We don’t want you two near the trials,” said Maddie.  “They’re dangerous.  Even if we weren’t dealing with ghosts, they’d be dangerous.”

“What do you mean?” asked Jazz.  She sounded surprised.  So was Danny.  He hadn’t thought his parents would even acknowledge that humans could be responsible for their current troubles.

Maddie frowned, then sighed, closing her eyes, visibly trying to calm herself.  “When there isn’t anyone eligible for the throne because no one has taken the trials, the whole family, all the direct descendants of the previous ruler, are gathered to take the trials.”

“Carrying with them the nine Great Gate Keys,” murmured Gwensyvyr in Danny’s ear.  “That there is only one remaining to us will likely prove troublesome.”

He nodded, slightly, to let her know he’d heard.  

“Traditionally, we’d also sit a vigil, to prepare.”  Maddie shook her head.  “It’s one thing to be gathered up here, where we have layers and layers of security, and Jack and I have set up anti-ghost countermeasures.”

Danny glanced at Gwensyvyr, who shrugged, then, frowning slightly, phased through the wall.  To Danny’s surprise, Vivian took her place floating at Danny’s elbow.  

“It’s something else to stand around in front of the public and the Assembly for hours,” continued Maddie.  “The last time we did that, Danny was poisoned.”

She was right.  But the problem wasn’t before the trials, it was after.  If Danny was Revyvtech, he’d set it up so that everyone would get gassed with blood blossoms as soon as possible, especially now that they were on to them.  Revyvtech had to know that, with the security team at Aunt Alicia’s hospital and their attempts to get into the Revyvtech computer system here. 

Actually, considering that they had access to ghosts, Danny was a little surprised Revyvtech hadn't tried a bigger attack.  It wasn't like ritual knives were standard for security, and the Avlynyse ghosts, while numerous, weren’t very strong.  There had been the ghost coming through the phone, and the thing at the Moon Masque, but those were individuals… maybe even the same individual, not a concentrated force.  

“And whatever killed–”  Maddie’s voice caught.  “Whatever ghostly ability killed everyone, we don’t have any direct countermeasures for it.  For that matter, without Specter Deflectors, anyone on the security team could be overshadowed and just shoot us.”

That… was also true.  Sort of.  Any ghost trying that would have to sneak by the literal army of ghosts that surrounded the family at any given time, but Maddie didn’t know that.

“Aunt Alicia stayed away and they still targeted her,” said Jazz.  

“That was before we knew anything was happening,” said Maddie.  “Now that we do, there are measures we can take to keep you safe.”

“You can do that without banning us from participating.”

Maddie shook her head.  “Not as much.  Not nearly as much.”

“So… you want us to not participate, and… then what?” asked Jazz, folding her arms.  Danny saw the door, slightly ajar, move like there was someone behind it.  

“We want more than that!” said Jack.  “We want the security teams properly protected, too!  We want everyone protected, but, er, I know that there are rules to this thing, about what you can wear.”

“Okay, but you know that in a compromise you’ve got to give the other side something, too, right?” asked Jazz, pointedly.

“We shouldn’t have to,” said Maddie.  “You’re our children.”  She inhaled deeply and repositioned herself on her chair.  “If you’re kept out of it, I’ll go and participate properly, and I won’t file legal actions to keep you out of it.  I might not win, but I could certainly delay enough that they’d have to hold another Moon Masque, and the country can’t be kept shut for that long.  Then, once flights are running normally again, we’ll leave.  Permanently.  And never have anything to do with any of them ever again.  Unless Matthew is willing to turn this country into a dictatorship, he can’t stop us.”

“I have no intention of becoming a dictator,” said Matthew, opening the kitchen door.  “That would be far too much work, and unhealthy, too.”

Gwensyvyr floated in beside him.  “I thought it would be better to take care of this quickly,” she said to Danny.  “So that we can make plans for whatever the result is.”

“How much did you hear?” asked Maddie, scowling

“Enough, I think,” said Matthew.  He was wearing pajamas, and there was a smear of toothpaste on his front, as if he’d been startled while brushing his teeth.  “Your summary, there at the end.  Was there anything else I should know about?”

“I don’t want Danny dragged out in front of a crowd because you’re trying to keep up the ridiculous syvyr act,” said Maddie.  “I want Danny and Jazz to have a chance at a life outside of the spotlight.”

“I see,” said Matthew.

“Well, then?” demanded Maddie, expectantly.  

Matthew sighed.  “I think I can convince security to use some of your Specter Deflectors, on a limited basis.  For Danny and Jazz…”  He looked at them, apologetically.  “Honestly, I’d like for Iris and George to be out of it, too, and Leo, for that matter, but I can’t change the rules, Maddie.  I don’t have the power to do that.  Maybe we can set up a separate, secure place for them to spend the vigil, and stagger the entry, but it’s not my decision.  The regent doesn’t get to arrange the entry conditions for the trials, for obvious reasons.”

“Don’t pretend that any of this is logical, Matthew,” said Maddie, coldly.  “Or that you don’t have any recourse.”

“I won’t,” said Matthew, raising his hands defensively.  “I don’t want to fight with you.  I don’t want you to leave and never come back again.  I’d love it if we could all go down to the sacred pool together, so you can make peace with the ancestors, but I know that won’t happen.  I’ll talk to the Trial Heralds–  They won’t like it, I’m not supposed to interfere with their arrangements for the trials at all, now that the date is set, but I’ll do it.  I’ll even ask them to set up a safe room where you can wait, near the entrance.  But all I can do is ask, and they’ll probably have conditions of their own.  Do you understand?”

“I don’t!” said Jack.  “I get that you’re not king yet, but you’re still the regent, aren’t you?  You’re still in charge.”

“Historically,” said Matthew, running a frustrated hand through his hair, “Avlynys doesn’t like regents.  There have always been problems when someone who hasn’t done the trials is in charge.  There are vast limitations to what I can do.  I am very explicitly barred from making any changes to the rules of succession.  I can’t propose laws.  I can’t remove someone from an appointed position, or make an appointment without Assembly approval.  I can’t change throne policies.  Madlyn–”

Maddie’s phone buzzed.  She looked at it.  “They’re bringing up the food,” she said.  “I should–”

“Maddie, please,” said Matthew, also standing.  “Do you understand?  We’ve just lost–”  His voice caught.  “We’ve lost so many people.  I don’t want to lose you, too, even if it’s only to a fight.”

Everyone in the room held their breath.  Even the ghosts.  Danny could feel Vivian’s fingers through his shirt, where she had latched onto his shoulder.  

Maddie nodded.  “I’ll get the food,” she said.  “The rest of you, you’ll fetch everyone?”

“Right-o, Maddie!  Come on, kids.”

Danny and Jazz got up.  So did Matthew.  “I’ll get Irene,” he said, quietly.  

As they knocked on doors, explaining that there was food, Vivian said, quietly, “They aren’t completely wrong…  Your parents, I mean.”

Danny made a face, but gave her a small nod.  His parents were wrong about a lot, but they were also right about a lot.  That wasn’t going to stop him from helping, but…  

But they really needed to solve the ‘aerosolized blood blossom’ problem.  Before it killed all of them.  Danny just… didn’t know how to do that.  Danny didn’t even know if he’d be able to go to the sacred pool, if there were a bunch of blood blossoms growing around it, or whatever it was keeping the ghosts from going there.  

“It’s worse than they think, though,” continued Vivian.

“What do you mean?” mumbled Danny, glancing at Jack, knocking on Joanna’s door, down the hall.

“Usually,” said Vivian, also looking at Jack, “there are nine ways down.  Nine ways into deep Andyr.  But the other Great Gate Keys are missing.  If there’s only one…”

“It’s another bottleneck,” said Danny.  “Both ways.”

Jack almost ran into Matthew, who must have looped around one of the back staircases to come up into this one.  Danny bit his lip.  There were other ways in and out of Andyr, too, especially if Revyvtech’s factory really did go into the tunnels, but trying to go out that way wouldn’t be safe, either.

Not for the first time, Danny deeply regretted not being able to make portals like Wulf.  He stopped in the middle of the hallway.  

“I might be stupid,” he said, under his breath.  He didn’t need to make a portal.  The sacred pool was a portal.

Of course, if Revyvtech controlled one side of the portal, they probably controlled both, but blood blossoms didn’t work the same way in the Ghost Zone.  There was too much ambient ectoplasm.  It made them weird.  Like plants drowning in too much water.  

It… wasn’t a perfect solution.  After that, the problem was getting out of the Ghost Zone, but if blood blossoms were a problem right there, at the pool, then it’d keep everyone from dying long enough to figure something out.  

He took a deep breath, then let it out.  Okay, he’d explain that, later, and check with Gwensyvyr to make sure the sacred pool could be used like that in the first place.  

For now, it was time for dinner.  

Maddie was setting out flatbread, marinated fish, cold salad, and avlpayst - international chains aside, Avlynys fast food was substantially different from its American counterparts - along the center of the table while Iris and George put out plates and silverware.  The rest of the family trickled in slowly, taking their spots at the table.  

No one was particularly interested in talking, not after the earlier arguments.  There were murmured thanks, but no conversation.  Even so, everyone at Basym Hyws ate together, as a family.  

Danny wasn’t going to let anything happen to them.

[serpentface]

What's the Wardi cultural take on Akoshos sleeping with/partnering with/marrying other Akoshos?

It's not highly regulated to a degree that there are overwhelming cultural norms about it. There's a lot of societal focus on akoshos being theoretically suitable sexual partners for both men and women due to being dual-gendered, but not to an extent that relationships with One Another are stigmatized.

They also largely get to escape from the most severe concerns about penetrator/penetrated power dynamics because they're not regarded as Men (they're regarded as dual-gendered, and they're a female social class on every practical level), there's no status of manhood to Lose by receiving sexual penetration. The only real thing you see in that department is people assuming that one acts as 'the man' and one acts as 'the woman', but this is largely due to preoccupation with a notion of sex being Penetration With A Penis (and that Penetration With A Penis means that one person is in a Man's Role and one person is in a Woman's Role). But this will not be regarded as unnatural as in same-gender male relations, akoshos will Have to take up a position in this sexual dichotomy if they want to have Real Sex (Penetration With A Penis) with each other, and this is not unnatural and doesn't involve gaining or losing status since they are simultaneously male and female, not men.

So like you might see individual culture critics finding stuff to nitpick about it as their annoyance of the week or a singular Guy here or there who thinks it's weird, but this isn't a widespread norm. The vast majority of people don't give a shit about akoshos having sex with each other. The worst thing you're likely to experience Solely by virtue of being in an akoshos-akoshos relationship is someone asking you (probably with genuine curiosity) which one does the man stuff and which one does the woman stuff.

Akoshos also don't experience Hard expectations for marriage (though there are societal pressures that make marriage an attractive safety net all the same, ESPECIALLY marriage to a man) so unofficial life-partnerships between akoshos are pretty much the Only same gender partnerships between unwed people that are going to go unquestioned. ((Sworn brotherhood is technically a same gender life partnership for men that is Functionally similar to marriage (in that it's a kin-making practice between unrelated adults), but the tradition is Built upon the assumption that both parties will be married to women and that a primary goal of this kinship is to provide security for both parties' wives and children)). Marriage obligations in general are more lax in the economically secure but not Wealthy lower mercantile classes (as obligations to support and perpetuate one's family are universal, but these obligations can be filled simply by having at least One son who can get hitched, and marriages in the lower classes have no political functions and therefore there's less reason to ensure All your children are wed (there's still incentives like dowry, but this is not desperately needed when a family is economically secure)). So akoshos in this class group tend to have a Lot more freedom in terms of their life arrangements and chosen partners (though still experience the limiting frameworks of structural misogyny in other capacities).

The only thing that is out of the picture is akoshos/akoshos marriage. Marriage in this society has a predominantly reproductive function, the concept of reproductively non-viable marriages is generally considered absurd. This is not JUST this culture's form of homophobia, as marriage is a very practical arrangement at its core - both in a reproductive capacity and as bedrock for the patriarchal blood-kinship family system that forms the core social unit. The idea of same gender marriage isn't just absurd because 'ewwww weird' it's like, that Cannot work within this system, it Cannot fill core functions of what a marriage intends to do here, the ways on which marriage and kinship are BUILT makes same gender marriage practically (rather than just socially) untenable.

The sole exception to the 'marriage = reproductively viable" rule is that akoshos can be married to men (which in practice is almost always as a remarriage after a man has secured At Least an heir). This has a Little bit of internal logic here in that they perform predominantly female social roles (thus are suited to being a wife, even if they can't bear children) (and also on practical levels of them having the same legal status as women) but it's really more of a 'this is just how it's always been' kind of thing. A lot of the older pre-Wardi identity dual-gender roles that got mashed together under the 'akoshos' name would have involved marriage to a man as a second wife/concubine, in addition to his primary wife who would bear his children. Men potentially having multiple spouses has not been retained as a cultural practice, but the notion that an akoshos Can be a wife to a man has survived into modern day legal and doctrinal practices around marriage.

So like this being said, marriage as it is legally defined is only between a man and a woman, a man and an akoshos, or a woman and an akoshos. In practice the latter two are comparatively VERY rare- a man/akoshos marriage cannot provide children (though an akoshos can practically fulfill all other obligations and duties of a wife), a woman/akoshos marriage Can provide children (and while akoshos cannot function as a male heir, these children Will take their akoshos-parent's family name (though the wife retains her father's family name)), but akoshos are legally grouped with women in terms of rights and privileges (including being permanently under legal domain of their father unless they have been legally handed off to a male husband) and Cannot provide hard power patriarchal support that this family system is built upon and therefore depends upon, which makes these marriages socio-economically insecure. They can obviously still be a good partner and parent, but this is not the same as having the Legal hard power of a patriarch.

Akoshos marrying each other would be reproductively and socially nonviable, and is treated as a similarly absurd concept to a man marrying a man or a woman marrying a woman. It's just not a part of the marriage and kinship framework, it's not a thing that you can Do.

[bluejay-makes]

Drow kiddos growing up in different cities

[in-tua-deep]

One of the interesting things about learning asl from different teachers is that you learn obscure dialect beef you’ve never heard of before

[idiosyncraticrednebula]

Why do a lot of feminists act like only women are pressured into conforming to societal standards? Lmao

[inklingofadream]

mag141 is like a complete mystery to me every time. jon and basira on boat to ny alesund, floyd matharu, one of basira's most frustrating bits of hypocrisy. the content of the statement? naw. Mikaele salesa? never heard of im. mikaele salesa dying? aw man forgot he did that.

just. nothing. every time.

[tovaicas]

anyways my friends activated my conlang brain and I've made smth insane as usual

red is influences, blue is Elezen-family languages, green is like a mix bc I see the Alliance cities as having a trade language (that critically is limited to them).

I see Duskwight as a separate language from Black Shroud Elezen (but sharing a lot - easy enough to learn for those speakers). Coerthan and all its derivatives are a whole different language under the Elezen umbrella and isn't mutually intelligible with BSE. Because they split so early, they probably don't share much more than root words and etymologies; within the same family so not difficult to learn for other speakers of Elezen languages, but very distinctly different.

(also I'm not listing them but the branches extend to include other diaspora Elezen languages)

[thevagueambition]

i do have "Alternative Universe - Enjolras Kisses Someone Before Mabeuf" as a tag on Elysium but that's solely because I think it's funny