#pursuit of a relationship with a married man

[sqgeism]

i saw the event and came RUNNING

anaxa x reader with summertime sadness by lana del rey?

𐙚 𓏵𓏵𓏵 𐙚 got my bad baby by my heavenly side | anaxagoras x gender neutral reader

💌 — ; i know if i go, i'll die happy tonight ! with a lover as brilliant as he, how could anaxa ever ask for more? you're his light as he navigates the darkness in pursuit of higher wisdom.

love mail — jhh idek what i did w this ! thank u for the first request from the event ! :D cute song omg!! this is a professor x professor where u and anaxa r married i hope u like it anon >_> ♡ art credits : opalesaint on twt

genius and madness get along, as they say. to paint a picture; you were an engineering professor, a world-renowned inventor with machines that could change the world. and anaxagoras was a... professor with a reputation, to describe it politely. you knew of him through your fourth period students who let out sighs of relief when they entered your class. apparently their third period—soul physics—had an insane professor that chased them down with a gun for being late. on that note, it's become your favorite thing to tell people that your students' insane stories of anaxa had been the first impression of your future husband.

for the actual first meeting, you had become rather intrigued with this mysterious anaxagoras. you've seen each other in the faculty, no doubt, but you can't recall ever sparking a conversation with such an interesting individual. so you sought him out, choosing one of the science labs that you were told he frequented.

only to see him on the floor, coughing out what you now understood as some kind of alchemy potion. anaxa told you later on in your relationship that he believed it could help him see things that weren't there, hidden hieroglyphs, spirits, all of that sort. only for it to prove to be ineffective, and burned his lungs with each breath he took.

you took him to the clinic, had a nurse care for him, and your relationship continued from there onward.

the students began to speculate when they noticed you two beginning to interact, of course they would. you both taught them to question everything and anything, but they were picking up on things that you two seemed to be clueless about. as an example, anaxa had assigned his class to study on a paper that you wrote. in fact, he himself had made a summary video of the entire thing JUST so his students would understand your brilliant ideas and insights. on your end, you would mention some of anaxa's teachings on soul physics and alchemy as well as minor references to his own beliefs.

it was unintentionally letting the other person slip into their most important thing, their specialty fields. the thing they've spent years devoting their mind and body to study. and you and anaxa just let each other into that very special aspect without notice.

what should have been the first sign was when you caught anaxa borrowing a book from the library that seemed to be from your field, all the way down to the specific sciences that go into your inventions, parts and gears, and books you've mentioned to him before. what should have been the second sign was the fact that you started bringing in anaxa to your classes as a guest lecturer. he had taken such great interest in your field that he was recognized to be knowledgeable enough to substitute for you during absences. the students remarked that he taught with great passion, as if he was in love with the subject just as much as you were.

half of the truth. he loved to teach it, but he also loved the teacher. he'd grown fond of you, and he was enough of a man to be able to admit that to himself. and how should a scholar confess their undying affection to another?

that's right, through the acknowledgement section of his recent findings on alchemy. in his study of how alchemy can be used to further advance technology—it reads;

"Anaxagoras would like to thank (name) for their life changing support throughout his writing of his thesis. (name), if you would allow me, let me be yours and let's explore the truth of the world together?"

those words were in the final submission of the printed paper, and you gave a free copy to all of your students of that year. and in the next three years, you gave it once again to your new batch for a study assignment, only now with a ring and the biggest smile whenever a curious student points out the acknowledgement.

now the academy has become a museum of memories, every hall and room has a loving tie back to your relationship. longing stares and late nights reading each others work—becomes loving gazes and early mornings in bed with each other. in a turn of events, the formula of his life had changed with a new variable, a very loving, beautiful, and gorgeous variable. his significant other, his passion, his (name). in every aspect of the word; he had won in both the field of academics and romance.

© sqgeism or wtv (^_^;)

[bennetsbonnet]

Two statements about characters can and should co-exist: Pride and Prejudice edition

Mr Bennet has a close relationship with Elizabeth and provides amusing observations on the folly of human nature BUT he is a terrible husband and father who consistently neglects the women who rely on him for absolutely everything; Elizabeth and Jane turned out so well in spite of him, not because of him.

Mrs Bennet's behaviour is understandable given the era in which she lived and the subsequent pressure she was under to get her daughters married well, which wasn't entirely for vanity reasons given that Longbourn was entailed BUT she was still fundamentally vain, ridiculous and rude; such pressure, even combined with an absent husband, still does not make her behaviour justifiable, nor her a sympathetic character, as she enabled Lydia (whose subsequent elopement with Wickham almost ruined the family) for far too long.

Mr Collins is unfairly portrayed as a middle-aged sycophant in most adaptations, rather than the young clergyman who sucks up to his patroness in pursuit of a more lucrative living that he was BUT he is still a ridiculous character who you are not meant to feel sympathy for when Elizabeth rejects him; he is rude, hypocritical and thinks of himself far too highly considering how vapid he actually is.

Caroline Bingley is often too harshly judged as a 'pick-me,' even though her relentless pursuit of Darcy is understandable given his wealth & status and how important it was for women to make a good marriage BUT she was still rude, vain and treated Jane terribly; plus she was a hypocritical snob, given the manner in which she looked down upon the Bennet family's relations despite the Bingleys' own background in trade.

Elizabeth is incredibly witty, courageous and endearing and instantly likeable which makes Darcy's slight of her at the Meryton assembly all the more of an affront to us as readers BUT, while it explains her dislike of him, she is no means perfect herself; she had far too much misplaced pride in her ability to successfully read others' characters and consequently ignored positive accounts of Darcy in favour of believing the deceitful Wickham, given her prejudice against the former.

Mr Darcy was harshly judged by Elizabeth, even though there are many more sympathetic elements to his character than immediately meet the eye BUT he was not shy or innocent; he was always a haughty rich man who had never been told no, thought far too highly of himself and, ultimately, thoroughly deserved to be rebuked and subsequently made to reform his character.

[harryspet]

buy me presents | r. cameron

[warnings] dark!mafia!rafe x spoiled!bratty!reader, ex-convict!rafe, rafe has a spoiling kink, topper thornton x reader, kidnapping/confinement, bondage, mentions of death/violence, toxic relationship, NONCON, little editing, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

A/N: merry christmas eve! gif credit: @/janesarahspidey

In which Rafe is more dangerous than ever and he interrupts your honeymoon with your new husband.

word count: 6.2k

rafe cameron masterlist

Somewhere like Greece seemed like a much better option for your honeymoon. Your husband, Topper, insisted that spending the end of year at a cozy, cabin in the mountains would be much more intimate.  Besides that, you’d gotten married so late into the year that a tropical honeymoon was probably out of the question. You bargained for a trip to Greece in the spring and decided not to pout. At least a cozy mountain trip meant cute two-piece lounge sets with fur-line boots and adorable ear muffs. 

That morning, he’d lugged all four of your suitcases into the back of his SUV, and you drove 4 hours from Figure 8 to the mountains. The car heater hummed softly as you stared out the window, the serenity of the trip barely masking your true feelings. You had the perfect winter wedding, a huge oval diamond on your ring, you’d snagged the most eligible bachelor in Kildare, and yet, you were still hoping for more. 

Topper was all smiles when you arrived, chivalrously carrying all your things inside. The “cabin” he picked was less than low-key, which impressed you, from the outside it was covered in snow but you could tell there were at least seven bedrooms. Shivering you followed him inside. The moment the door slammed shut behind you, the noise felt strangely final, like you were trapped in a cage of wood and snow. 

Your husband went to work on the fireplace, and still shivering, you wandered through the luxurious cabin’s living room. It was adorned with over-stuffed furniture, red-plaid blanket throws, deep leather couches, and velvet armchairs. A bear skin rug sat before the fireplace, a deer head placed ceremoniously over the mantle, “I was thinking we could decorate the place for Christmas. Make it real cozy. What do you think?”

You nodded, a small smile on your lips, “Yeah … where are we gonna get decorations?” You crossed your arms as you continued to shiver. Moving closer to him, you were hoping a spark would appear soon. 

Topper glanced over at you, his face lighting up with excitement. "I figured we could take a drive into town tomorrow, get a real tree, maybe a few things for the mantel. It'll be perfect. You know, all the little touches."

The fire crackled in front of you as Topper carefully stoked the flames, his focus on making sure it blazed high. His back was to you, his arms flexing as he worked, and for a moment, you found yourself staring at him. Topper was handsome, successful, and undoubtedly a good man. You let yourself feel grateful that he’d put so much thought into this trip.

Planning your dream wedding had completely consumed your thoughts this year, bringing you unimaginable anxiety. Every decision, every detail had been meticulously planned, from the dress to the flowers, the venue, and every single guest on the guest list. You’d sacrificed sleep, health, and sanity in pursuit of perfection. But now, the wedding was behind you, and the weight of it all seemed to evaporate in the crisp mountain air.

You decided that this was the time to finally let go of the constant pressure and to simply enjoy being married, “Sounds perfect,” You responded, and at the same time, you saw the first spark. Topper stoked the fire, letting it grow, and you finally felt the comforting heat, “The tree has to be at least nine feet, okay? With red and gold bulbs and big poinsettias. I want my sister to totally freak out when I send her photos.” You said it with a small smirk, imagining her wide-eyed reaction to the grandeur of it all. You were already picturing the perfect holiday setup, one that would leave no room for comparison.

“You got it,” He stood up from his place kneeling by the fireplace, dusting off his pants, and leaned in to kiss you softly. His voice was low, reassuring, and you picked out the way his eyes soften at the sight of you. Topper Thornton was madly in love with you, “What sounds good for dinner?”

“Steak?” You offered, leaning back against the arm of the couch. Outside, through tall glass windows, you watched snow fall down on the landscape. 

“Steak it is. I’m gonna make you an amazing dinner and then we’re going to have the coziest night in.” He leaned down to kiss you on your forehead and you watched as he made his way to the kitchen. 

“I will …unpack,” You declared, staring around the room, already envisioning where you would settle.

The master suite was tucked away on the upper floor, accessed by a grand staircase with a dark wood banister that creaked softly under your footsteps. The soft glow from the chandelier above cast a warm light over you. The stairs led to a long hallway that ended in double doors, adorned with heavy brass handles. 

At the center of the room stood a four-poster king-sized bed with a thick down comforter and piles of plush pillows, framed by an elegant dark wood bed frame. Across the room was yet another fireplace and you imagined a warm, cozy consummation of your marriage. You were no virgin, and Topper hadn’t proposed to you before sampling what he intended to lock down for the rest of his life, but you wanted it to be special. 

Your eyes wandered to the private balcony accessed through French doors offered views of the snow-covered expanse but was too cold to truly enjoy. Instead, you turned your attention to unpacking yours and Topper’s luggage, organizing your belongings in the spacious walk-in closet. The expansive vanity soon became a canvas for your collection of beauty trinkets and makeup, each item finding its place as you settled into your new surroundings.

You joined Topper for dinner, the mouth watering aroma already having reached you upstairs. Topper was good at being doting, remembering to pull out your chair for you, making sure your glass of red wine never fully emptied. Part of your heart fluttered, the other, more realistic half was skeptical. You couldn’t help but reflect on the endless conversations you’d had with your therapist. She’d pointed out time and time again that you struggled to let people fully in, even the ones who loved you.

This was the time, Y/N, to finally let someone in. What better person than the one you agreed to marry? 

Dinner was more than pleasant, and as the wine started to warm your cheeks, the conversation turned light. It was fun. Sometimes you forgot how much fun Topper could be. 

Topper’s voice was low and teasing, “If you could switch lives with anyone for a day, no strings attached, no responsibilities, no commitments, who would it be and why?”

You paused, the question hanging in the air for a moment. Topper leaned forward slightly, clearly enjoying the challenge he’d just given you. You could tell he was genuinely curious, but also hoping to catch a glimpse of something unexpected, something about the woman he’d married that maybe even you hadn’t fully explored.

Your fingers played with the stem of your wine glass as you thought, the question pulling you into a brief moment of reflection.

“Hmmm…” you mused, your heartbeat picking up, though you kept your face neutral, “I think… I’d pick my oldest sister. She does everything right. She’s got it all together. At least, that’s what my Mom and Dad always say.”

“Really?” Topper smiled, taking a sip from his wine, “Your sister?”

“Yeah,” Maybe because you felt no judgement at all, you kept speaking, “I mean, it’s not like I don’t love my life now. But all I wanted when I was a teenager was to be the godliest woman, to get married young, and you know, do all the things a pastor’s daughter is supposed to do. And I watched all three of my sisters do it and…they’ve just never approved of my decisions.”

You were sitting across from the only decision your parent’s approved of but you weren’t always Topper Thornton’s wife. For years, they’d considered you “lost”. 

Topper gave you a soft smile. “I’m surprised but it’s kind of nice to … to know you more. I want to know your more, Y/N,” You understood what he meant. You did your best to come across only how you wanted others to perceive you, “You know, you’re exactly where you need to be, right here with me. And I’m sorry, but your parents are idiots.”

You nodded, laughing, before you down the rest of your wine, “I have a surprise for you.”

“Oh?” Topper’s eyes widened, “Is it upstairs?”

You nodded, standing from the table. “Yes. I’m going to get ready. Toss these dishes in the sink, I’ll clean them tomorrow, and meet me upstairs in… five minutes, okay?”

“Can’t wait, Mrs. Thornton,” He winked and you scurried away from the table with a mischievous smile. 

It took you a lot longer than five minutes to get ready and you were lucky that Topper had known you well enough to give you more time. You chose an outfit you’d been waiting to pull out since the beginning of planning for your wedding. The nightgown was crafted from soft, white silky fabric, it’s neck plunged and the neckline was adorned by lace. The hem ended just before the middle of your thighs, teasing yet tasteful, and the robe that accompanied it was made from the same light, airy material. You tied the robe lazily in front, letting the fabric cascade over your body. 

You were applying lipgloss in the mirror when you heard the closing of a car door. You paused for a moment, wondering why he had gone out to the car. Deciding you were presentable enough, you left the room. At the top of the stairs, you heard the shuffling of feet and assumed Topper had made his way back inside. 

“Babe?” You inquired as you made your way down the stairs. Your stomach dropped the moment that your bare feet hit the bottom step. You gripped the stair railing as your eyes tried to make sense of the movement in the dimly lit downstairs. All you could really tell was that Topper was not alone and dark figures had crowded the living room. 

Then your heard a painful grunt and recognized the sound as belonging to Topper. Abort, abort, abort, the little voice in your head said. When you turned around, there was a dark figure standing at the top of the stairs now. You immediately recognized the cold, calculating look in his eyes. He was one of Rafe's men. You couldn’t remember his name, but the air around him was thick with malice. He didn’t need to say a word for you to understand his intent: you weren’t going anywhere.

A scream left your lips before you could cover your mouth with a shaky hand. “Stay still,” the man at the top of the stairs said in a low, gruff voice. His hand moved toward his waistband, and your stomach twisted as you feared the worst.

You moved forward despite his words. The shuffling from the living room intensified, followed by another grunt from Topper, which made your legs nearly buckle beneath you. You were so, so, so close to the door but a few steps in that direction made you realize there were two other men blocking that exit. You turned around slowly, following their line of the sight, and moved in the only direction there was. 

You padded closer to the living room, a crackling fire the only source of light in the room. Rafe Cameron stood, tall and commanding, gun pointed to your husband’s temple. He already owned every inch of the space. 

Topper’s eyes flicked toward you, panic and fear evident in them, but he didn’t speak, not while Rafe’s gun was so close to his head. His jaw clenched, and he shifted uncomfortably in place, his hands bound behind him. Two other dark figures stood nearby and you quickly processed that they were most likely the ones who overpowered your husband. 

Cold, calculating eyes locked on you. Oh god, you thought, you’d really done it now. 

It wasn’t love at first sight with Rafe Cameron. Not even close. But it was fire—raw, passionate, and all-consuming. You were at the end of your rebellious phase, days away from moving back home, and finally agreeing to go to that Christian college your parents always wanted you to go to.

It really started with a pair of diamond earrings. Not a conversation, not a connection, just a gesture that hit you like a freight train. 

He presented them after he’d given you three earth-shattering, bed-frame-slamming orgasms in a row, and you’d dozed off in his bedroom, tangled in the sheets, not caring that it was a late-night rendezvous that was never supposed to mean anything. The earrings were tucked inside a velvet box that seemed almost out of place with the raw, unrestrained chaos of the night.

“Are you paying me for sex? Like a hooker?”

“You’d think I’d buy diamond earrings for a hooker?” His voice was steady, as if he hadn’t just spent hours making your legs shake. “No, this is an investment. I want my future wife to know I can give her nice things.”

"Shut up," you muttered, not trying to keep the sting out of your voice. You weren’t his property. You weren’t someone’s investment.

Rafe only smirked, eyes predatory but amused. You accepted, of course, and you tried them on just minutes later. You’d never owned anything so … sparkly. They were the opposite of modest, the opposite of the world you were so close to entering again. 

There was no amusement in the look Rafe Cameron was giving you now, his black suit molding perfectly to his tall, muscular frame. “And here she is,” Rafe announced, a smile on his lips with absolutely know joy behind it, “The beautiful bride!” 

“Rafe …” You steadied your breathing as much as possible, “What are you doing?”

You couldn’t help but notice his hair—buzzed short, a sharp contrast to the way he used to wear it. It gave him a more rugged and dangerous look, one that matched the quiet menace he often carried in his demeanor.

“What does it look like? I came to congratulate you two.” 

“Put the gun away,” You stepped closer, arms wrapping around yourself, wanting to conceal your vulnerable form from the men in the room, “He didn’t do anything. You know he didn’t. I’m the one who–”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I did consider him a good friend of mine, you know? S’pose to look after my girl while I did my time. Guess you thought I was giving you permission to fuck her,” The barrel of the gun pressed harder into Topper’s temple and you cringed. His icy blue eyes pinned you in place as he scanned over you. You wanted to scream, to throw yourself at Rafe and tear the gun from his hand, but something in you knew that it wasn’t that simple. It never had been with Rafe.

“No, you don’t get to do this,” You declared, raising your voice as much as your body would let you, “You went away. I ended things. You don’t get to tear everything down just because you can’t let go.”

Rafe’s jaw clenched and you could see the nerve you’d struck written all over his face, “She’s not your girl anymore,” Topper spoke through gritted teeth, “You can’t–”

Rafe’s eyes flashed with a fury that turned his features hard and before you could take another breath, he moved with lightning speed, raising the gun in his hand. The crack of metal meeting flesh filled the room as Rafe pistol-whipped Topper across the face, sending him crumbling to the floor.

“Fuck!” You cursed, tears stinging your eyes. You fought the urge to keel over and release the contents of your stomach at the sight of the blood gushing from Topper’s face. A blind rage came over you as you started to struggle to breathe. 

“Neither of you get to tell me what the fuck to do,” Rafe’s eyes bore into you. 

You moved closer, wanting to check and at least make sure your husband was still breathing. Before you knew it, Rafe’s gun was pointing at you. 

“No, leave him. You. Sit,” He gestured the gun towards the leather couch. 

You hesitated and Rafe easily pointed the gun back at Topper. A threat. Shakily, you stepped away from Topper’s figure, and sat down on the living room couch. You tried to steady yourself, stop yourself from vibrating with anger, to calm your nerves so you could think rationally. 

Across the room, Rafe did the same, though his movements were more restless, more frantic. He paced back and forth, his boots thudding softly against the carpet. The gun never left his hand, his fingers curling tighter around it as he muttered under his breath, words too quiet to make out.

It was a scene you had witnessed before. Rafe trying to calm down after doing something reckless. Something violent. You wanted nice things, sure. But not like this. Not at the cost of your peace, your sanity. And certainly not at the cost of your safety.

The realization hit you then. The crazy that came with Rafe Cameron? You had never wanted it, not really. 

“What do you want from us?” You asked, lips trembling. 

“Nothing from him,” Rafe decided quickly, “From you. There is no limit to all that I want from you, Y/N.”

You breathed deeply, “What do you want me to say? You want me to lie to you, Rafe?”

Rafe nodded his head as he thought about your words, “I want that ring off your finger …” He trailed off, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips.

You look down at your left hand as it sat on your lap. You quickly covered your left hand with your right, “Take if off,” He continued and when you didn’t budge, he added, “I’m not asking. Do it or-”

Angrily, you kept your eyes on him. You pulled off your engagement ring and wedding band, tossing the two at his feet. 

“Good,” he muttered under his breath, his gaze narrowing, though he still smirked. "You’ll regret that."

He leaned down to take the rings into his hand, “Hmm, you always told me you wanted a pear shape. I know you didn’t change your mind that quickly. Let me guess …you mentioned it but he never remembered. And you were just so grateful that he even got down on one knee for you.” 

Rafe’s words stung, his mockery of your past with Topper hitting harder than you expected. 

“I love it. You know all I really care about is a big diamond, Rafe,” You spoke through a painful smile.

“I know I’m not the only man in the world with money,” Rafe said, his voice tight with controlled anger. “But what you don’t understand is, he wouldn’t have anything without me. That new real estate venture of his? The one he’s so proud of now? It started with me. And what does he do? He swoops in, steals my girl, and then steals five million dollars from me. That’s what all of this is about, sweet girl. I’m here to collect what’s owed to me.”

His words hit like a slap, each sentence dripping with resentment and possessiveness. The revelation about the money, about the real reason for everything that had led to this moment, twisted in your stomach like a blade. 

“He didn’t steal me,” You countered bitterly, “I was never going to be yours. You’re a criminal.”

There was a dangerous intensity in Rafe’s eyes. Your arms crossed now out of defiance. Rafe nodded, smiling, “You’re right about one of those things. Wrong about you never being mine. But you’re right about me being a criminal.” 

Rafe crossed the room and your heart leapt from your chest as your leapt from your seat. Rafe Cameron introduced you to a violence you’d never known, and in less than a second, completely broke your heart. Topper, already passed out and crumpled on the floor, didn’t stand a chance. Standing over his body, gun angled to the ground, Rafe shot your husband in the head. 

Another second later, he was handing your rings over to one of his henchman standing nearby, “Go ahead and bury these with him.” 

Your knees buckled at the sight …the parts of his brain that were scattered all over the carpet. our hand trembled as you reached for him, but the second you touched his skin, the realization that he was gone set in.

You heard Rafe’s voice, his focus was elsewhere. You thought you might’ve heard his laugh. The sound was the last thing you heard before everything went still.

Ropes bit into your wrists. You tried to pull yourself up, the softness of the mattress making you sink further, and then you felt a strong hand on your waist holding you in place. Turning your head rapidly, you saw both your wrists tied to the opposite ends of the wooden bed. Looking down, not only did you see your lingerie still in place, but Rafe Cameron was kneeling between your legs. 

He’d remove his clothes except for his slacks though you could see his belt was loosened. You pressed your head back into the mattress, pulling at your restraints, “This is low, even for you,” You breathed out.

“Low? You’re being dramatic.”

“You killed my husband,” you whispered, the weight of the truth settling like a stone in your stomach. Slowly, he crawled on top of your, shirtless and even more sculpted than you remembered. His frame, lean and muscular bathed in the warm glow of the room's lighting. His chest was broad and defined with every line of his torso sharp. Your eyes found his shoulders, broad and powerful, tapering down to a narrow waist. Prison had not only hardened his frown lines, it had hardened every part of him. 

Rafe’s eyes flickered as he looked down at you, a brief flash of something—guilt, maybe? That look was gone quickly, replaced with something colder, harder. 

Unable to hide the panic in your voice now, you continued, “Rafe …don’t … please-” 

He searched your face, “Please?” He raised an eyebrow, “My spoiled brat remembers her manners?”

“I hate you,” You tried to blink away the tears that were forming in your eyes. Rafe caressed your face, thumb dragging over your cheeks, “God, I fucking hate you.”

His hand moved to your neck, his grip tightening there, “You didn’t give a shit about him. I know you. You were settling.”

“You don’t–”

“You forget,” He squeezed tighter, "Stop pretending I don’t know you. I see right through the act. I know what excites you, what gets your heart racing. That ring? It was never what you wanted. This whole life you’ve been pretending to want. You play innocent in front of everyone-”

“Get off me–”

He squeezed harder, his grip forcing your breath to catch in your throat. Your eyes widened in panic, but his gaze never wavered. “You want the private jets, the black card, the shopping sprees that never end, the villas in Italy, the lifestyle that makes everyone look twice when you walk into a room. You want to be the center of attention, the prettiest thing in every room. You want to be seen—on someone’s arm, my fucking arm. You crave the power that comes with being with a man like me.”

“A man who can kill and get away with it. Who has the power to have someone else do all his dirty work,” His voice had grown sensual, and his dark words caressed your ear now. You weren’t breathing right but your chest did not heave up and down, you remained in the trance that his words put you in, “What would I feel if I put my hands between your legs right now?” 

“Rafe…” You whispered.

“What baby?” He purred. 

“You’re a narcissist,” To your shock, he smiled, a slow, wicked curve of his lips. And in that moment, you knew: you’d already lost.

Rafe attacked the side of your face with his mouth, leaving kisses along your jawline, before he forced his lips on yours. He tasted the same, you realized that quickly, and you were transported to a time in your life that you’d been trying to suppress the last two years. You struggled beneath him as he pressed his lower half into your, pinning you fully. 

The restraints were the cherry on top of your misery. Rafe could hold you down with no problem and yet he wanted to remind you that you were being punished. 

“You don’t have to worry about me going away again,” He whispered through warm kisses against your skin, “I’m running a tighter operation, okay?”

Your attempts to turn your face away were futile, as your bare neck became his next target. You already felt betrayed by your body. Your body remembered Rafe, and certainly remembered your weakest spot. You pulled at your restraints, stifling the moan that was threatening to leave your lips. 

“No,” you bit out, yanking at your restraints as if sheer willpower could set you free.

But Rafe only pressed more of his weight against you, pinning you further beneath him. “No?” he echoed mockingly, “You’re not going anywhere, sweetheart. Not until you come for me. A few times, at least,” he murmured, his lips grazing your ear. “Gotta make up for lost time, don’t we?”

You wanted to scream at him, to spit out how impossible his demand was, how utterly absurd it was to think you could find any pleasure with the man who had done something so unforgivable, so monstrous to someone you cared for.

But the words caught in your throat, strangled by the heat coursing through you. His mouth trailed lower, and your resolve wavered. “That’s it,” he coaxed, his tone dripping with smug confidence, “don’t fight it. You know I always get what I want, baby.”

You searched your brain for the right words. “Rafe Cameron. Don’t. I won’t forgive you if you do this!” 

“I don’t need your forgiveness, baby,” He kissed the skin between your breasts, your plunging neckline leaving you vulnerable, “You’re scared you’re going to like it. That I’m right. C’mon, let Daddy take care of you.”

Rafe’s body moved lower and your panic continued. Strong, thick arms, kept your thighs pinned as Rafe teasing kisses on the outside of your thighs. If your thighs were pressed together, you had no doubt you’d feel a stickiness between them. Your body was ready even if your mind wasn’t. 

When he lifted your thin nightgown and pulled your panties to the side, you tilted your head back in defeat. Now, the battle was in not completely losing your mind. Feeling his warm breath against your most sensitive organ made you realize you’d lose that battle too and quickly. His initial movements were a clear attempt to savor you. Slowly, so painfully slow. 

The intimacy was something you weren’t prepared for. The way Rafe Cameron moved his mouth against you was extremely personal. His touch went from light and slow, gradually building up to something that was sharp and intentional. Something that didn’t change, something often left out of yours and Topper’s sex life, was a steady rhythm. 

Unfortunately, you’d been so busy with the wedding, even your wedding night was too chaotic to consummate the marriage. You hadn’t had an orgasm in weeks. 

Your first orgasm came so quickly that you hadn’t realized it was happening until your body started to convulse and a yelp was on your tongue, “Fuck, fuck, fuck” You cursed. You refused to look down at him but you couldn’t bear to look at his wicked grin. His tongue trailed down to your entrance momentarily but soon he was relentlessly attacking your sore bud again. Rafe was consuming you, “Rafe, please …okay, okay, I came. You can stop now!”

“Why would I stop, baby, when I’m giving you everything you deserve?”

He responded to every reaction. Every attempt to pull away, he kept you steady. You struggled as much as you could and let out frustrated screams. Every attempt to pull away, he kept you steady. He pulled you closer to his mouth, using your hips as an anchor. When you inevitably felt you had nothing left to give him, he forced it out of you. 

He talked to you, coaxing you through the orgasms you were struggling to give him.

“When I’m done with you, I’ll take you home, buy you every little thing you’ve ever wanted.”

Warm and wet, that’s all your body could focus on. You were embarrassingly wet. Your entire body was warm. Your toes curled and you breathed so heavily that you thought you were having a panic attack. You were a sweaty, shaking, cursing mess by the time he finally let you go. 

After Rafe, gently undid your restraints, the coaxing continued. “Daddy’s gonna make sure you’re taken care of. Spa days. Vacations. Real ones. Anything for my girl.”

The silent treatment had never been your style. You were outspoken to a fault, the kind of person who always had something to say, even when you shouldn't. But now, the words were stuck in your throat. You curled your body away from him, your knees pulled to your chest, still trembling from the aftershocks of his touch.

The weight of the last 24 hours pressed down on you. You tried to rationalize, to convince yourself you hadn’t done anything wrong. You hadn’t pulled the trigger. But none of that mattered now. Someone was dead, and the blood felt like it was on your hands, too.

You turned your face into the pillow, desperate to block out the sight of Rafe sitting on the edge of the bed, calm and composed as if nothing had happened. Rafe Cameron didn’t earn his money honestly; you’d always known that. But the full extent of his power, the lengths to which his influence stretched, were incomprehensible. He had people who would bury bodies for him, without question, without hesitation. Who was he now? What had he become in the years since you’d last truly known him?

Your mind wandered to the kind of money he must have. Enough to make men loyal to him beyond reason. Enough to buy silence, loyalty, and the kind of life most people couldn’t even dream of. Maybe he was serious about the private jet and villas in Italy. 

You felt it in the hand he placed on your upper thigh. Power. 

 “Gonna run you a bath, baby.”

As soon as he was out of your sight, you pulled yourself up from the bed. Your eyes locked in on your bruised wrist and then lingered on your empty ring finger. Throwing weak and wobbly legs over the side of the bed, you made a dash for the bedroom doors. 

Maybe you could make it. Do the right thing. Get help-

But as you pushed open the door, the sight of a man standing just outside stopped you cold. He was armed, his posture too relaxed for someone holding that kind of power in his hands. He didn’t say a word, didn’t need to. His presence alone was the warning: Don’t even think about it.

You heard stomping, heavy footsteps of a brute you use to love, before arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you backwards. Heavy wood doors slammed and made your heart jump. 

“Running, huh?” Rafe growled in your ear, “After I’ve been so sweet to you?”

You struggled to the point that Rafe had to tackle you to the floor. You thought about Topper. You thought about the man outside the door listening to everything happening in this room. You thought about how gentle Rafe had been with you in comparison to now. You made a mistake. Running was a mistake. 

“Hey!” Rafe’s voice snapped you from your panic and you stared up at him with wide eyes, “You’re okay. These guys are here to protect you. That’s it. No one’s gonna hurt you.”

His words clashed with everything you’d seen, everything you felt. Protect you? From what? From who? The only danger in this room was him.

Rafe released one of your wrists to brush your hair from your face, the gesture at odds with the raw power still holding you down. “I’m not mad, baby,” he murmured, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw. “But don’t make me chase you again. Don’t wanna hurt you. Now, you up for that bath?”

There was no choice in the matter, you simply just gritted your teeth. You feared the second option would be to be tied up again. 

To your dismay, you undressed from your thin layer of clothing, and stepped into the bath. The warmth was a reminder of this entire home’s original purpose. Rafe seemed to have no shame about completely destroying your honeymoon. Your body was stiff and you didn’t meet his eyes as he kneeled by the tub, running his fingers through the water, before he caressed your arm, “See, not so bad,” Rafe said, “I missed you, Y/N.”

“I’m sure you missed a lot of things in jail,” Pulling your knees up cover your chest, you kept your eyes focused on the bubbles in the water. 

“I think I missed your smart mouth most of all,” You jumped at the sound of him slapping his hand against the porcelain of the tub. He rose from his kneeling position and turned in the direction of the room, “Finish up. I got you some stuff. Want you to see it.” 

You exhaled shakily, your heart pounding in your chest. The warmth of the bath felt suffocating now, the scent of lavender and vanilla in the air. You sank lower into the water, trying to collect your thoughts. 

You hated him. Hated the way he controlled you, the way he twisted every situation to suit his needs. But deep down, buried beneath the fear and anger, was the part of you that had always craved the kind of life only someone like Rafe could provide. And it scared you to realize that even now, when you should want nothing more than to escape, some small, selfish part of you still wanted to see what he had waiting for you.

Taking your time, you scrubbed away the scent of Rafe, although you still couldn’t shake that feeling of his mouth on you. You felt as if you had completely come undone. A part of you feared that he might have ruined you with how relentless he’d been. 

Taking back some of your modesty, you dressed in sweatpants and a long sleeve t-shirt. He was waiting for you, immediately crossing the room, as you opened the bathroom door. Placing a gentle hand on your back, he ushered you forward, “Been thinking about this the whole time I was gone.”

On the bed was a collection of boxes, neatly arranged like a display in a high-end boutique. Your breath hitched as your eyes scanned over them. Velvet jewelry cases, designer shopping bags, and a shoebox with the logo of a luxury brand you’d only ever admired from afar. 

You turned your head to look up at him. You attempted to convey something serious, a warning, a please stop and yet you were sure you could only display uncertainty in that moment. “Don’t be shy, baby. These are for you.”

Your feet carried you forward reluctantly, your mind warring with itself. You didn’t want to feed into his delusions that he could buy your affection. But the truth was, a part of you wanted to see.

He reached for a small box first, flipping it open to reveal a ring. The diamond was massive, glittering under the light in a pear shape that was both elegant and extravagant, “I know it’s not the ring you got but it’s the one you deserve.” 

“Rafe,” you exhaled, his name slipping from your lips with a softness that startled even you. The sound was far more intimate than you intended, like an instinct you couldn’t control

Like a magnet, your hand moved towards the box. Before you could reach it, Rafe flashed you a smirk, before he took the ring of the box and gestured for your hand. Your fingers trembled. He slid the ring onto your finger with deliberate care, his touch lingering just long enough to make your pulse race.

Your lips parted in awe as you marveled down at the at least. “Oh my god, it’s perfect.”

“Told you,” he said, his voice low and full of promise. “Nothing but the best for you, baby.”

It was so beautiful, so perfect, it almost made you forget the ugliness of how it had ended up on your hand.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, barely recognizing your own voice. Whether the gratitude was genuine or forced, you couldn’t even tell anymore.

Rafe tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he were trying to read the thoughts behind your expression. “You deserve it,” he said softly, “You deserve everything.”

You weren’t sure if he was right but he was offering something you knew no one else could. And it scared you how much you wanted it.

Reblogs are much appreciated if you enjoyed!!

[genderkoolaid]

hiiii can we talk about the impact being aromantic has on your gender i'd like to talk about the impact being aromantic has on your gender. how much romantic attraction and relationships are essential in establishing yourself as a Real & Proper Wo/Man. like literally throughout my gender journey i would keep mentally updating the hypothetical narrative of my future marriage and it took YEARS until I realized I didn't even want to get married. but sexuality is so fundamental to gender and romance is so fundamental to sexuality. i cannot separate many of my struggles with gender from my inability to make mine coherent through my pursuit of socially acceptable romances

[demilypyro]

My father chases ghosts.

In a moment of uncharacteristic boldness, I once questioned my father on why he treated me with such cold detachment. Why his advice only ever seemed to come in the form of lecturing, and why he never hugged me, or even said he was proud of me. His words in that moment caused the small amount of respect I had for him to shake. He told me that he saw it as the mother's role to love a child, and that it was the father's role to keep the child on the straight and narrow. After some contemplation, I decided in that moment that I disliked him, not just as a parent, but as a person.

My father doesn't have a father. He was the product of an out-of-wedlock pregnancy between an interracial couple in the 60s... My grandmother was never willing to speak about what happened to my grandfather. I can only imagine he didn't stick around long, since my father never knew him, and grew up with only his mother. And it's always been clear to me that this bothered him. The man idolizes masculinity. Maybe desperate for a father figure, he found role models in his grandfather, whose portrait still hangs in his house and which he treats with great care, and his stepfather, whose surname he took (discarding his mother's last name) and passed on to me. Supposedly, his stepfather left his mother in a matter of years, so why my father idolizes him so, I don't understand. I've never met the man.

Perhaps similarly, my father left his mother's care the second he turned 18. Having lived with my grandmother for some years when I was in college, I can honestly understand why. She is prone to smothering the people she loves. In light of that experience, it maybe becomes easier to understand why my father would prefer a more distant form of parenting. Still, I don't agree with his philosophy on gender roles.

Some years after I transitioned, I had a conversation with my father that stuck with me. He said that he actually saw himself as rather unmasculine, a possibility that had never once occurred to me. With that in mind, I suppose he is somewhat short, and not especially muscular. He told me he had always felt insecure about it. But, unlike me, he had never once considered abandoning the pursuit of masculinity entirely. Rather, in his own words, he felt he needed to chase it even harder. To live up to the image he'd set for himself. The ghost of masculinity.

A lot became clear to me in that moment. My father is obsessed with chasing ghosts of how he thinks things Should Be. My mother once told me how he had this "plan" for where he wanted to be in life at each age. He wanted to live on his own by 20. He wanted to be married by 30. He wanted children by 40. When he found out my mother was pregnant, he married her as fast as he could. My mother didn't really care, but he said they HAD to be married before the baby was born. Things had to go in the right order. According to him, that was just how things Should Be.

He was chasing the ghost of the perfect nuclear family that was denied him.

They divorced when I was eight.

In light of all this, it becomes very clear why he acted the way he did when I was younger. I wasn't how his child Should Be. No matter how many things I was diagnosed with, he never bothered looking into what neurodivergency was, or how to deal with it, and simply held me to the standards of a neurotypical child. My mother tells me that when I was six, he yelled at me in a store for wanting to try on a dress. His child being autistic was something to be ignored until it went away. His child being transgender? Forget it.

In recent years, I think my father has started giving up on me. In a good way. Seeing me become happier as my transition progresses seems to have finally convinced him that he doesn't understand what's best for me, at least somewhat. I speak to him maybe once a month. But I often mourn the idea of a father I could've been closer to. A father with whom I could have had a relationship of love, and support. A father I never had.

Maybe I'm chasing a ghost too.

[torchwood-99]

There's a bit of a role reversal with Faramir and Eowyn, in terms of how their narratives include tropes and plot points that are often traditionally applied to characters of the other sex.

Eowyn goes to war because she refuses to be left behind to be burned inside the house when the battle is done, as is often the fate of women.

Faramir actually is nearly burned alive at the hands of the patriarch of his family when said patriarch believes the battle is over and hope is lost. While Eowyn is out on the battlefield, fighting, Faramir is stuck inside the home, burning.

Between the two, Eowyn is the one we see go on more of an inner journey. She changes more over the narrative, and has to deal more with her own flaws and personal demons, as well as the injustices inflicted upon her. The climax of her story comes with a great moment of heroism and courage in battle. She is rescued by a hobbit, but as an ally in battle, not as a damsel in distress.

Faramir in the books doesn't feel tempted by the ring, and is almost a paragon of virtue. About as much as a Man in Middle Earth can be. He's closer to Arwen and Galadriel than Eowyn is, in his near perfection, in how he inspires and guides others. He is also rescued by a hobbit, but in that moment he is helpless, a damsel in distress. He is rescued because others love him for his virtue and goodness.

So often it's the other way round. Not only is the woman usually the one trapped inside, in need of rescue, while the man is out there fighting, the woman's heroism traditionally comes from the list of virtues she possesses, while the man's heroism comes from his deeds and the things he accomplishes. The man fights, the woman inspires.

But during the Battle of Pelennor fields, it is Eowyn who fights, and while she does inspire Merry, she inspires him not as a paragorn, but as an example of courage that Merry finds himself compelled to live up to. He is inspired to fight by her side, instead of fighting for her.

Faramir is sick and unconscious. His agency is denied him by his father, who decides on his behalf there's nothing left for him to live for. And it is a rush for the heroes; Pippin and Beregond, to save Faramir, and it is explicitly stated that Beregond only broke the law because he was inspired to do so out of his great love for Faramir, which is shared by all. In that moment, Faramir's role is closer to the traditional fairy tale princess, whose goodness inspires the heroes into fighting for her during her peril.

And afterwards, it is Eowyn who has to fight to find meaning in life again, to choose joy and hope over despair, which Faramir, with his loving kindness, wisdom, and gentleness, inspires her to do.

I love that, and love thinking on how that affected their relationship going forward.

Eowyn must have liked that with Faramir, she's not being married to someone who will require her to take on every aspect of the so called "woman's role" (necessary, but limiting) which has been inflicted on her at her own expense by the men in her life, so they can be free to partake in the "man's role". Perhaps in turn, Eowyn's predisposition for more martial pursuits; even if she has embraced healing and gardening and no longer lives for battle, would also mean she can take on some of the certain necessary duties that Faramir finds taxing.

Between the two, there must have been a more equal division of labour and responsibilities, and therefore more freedom on both sides. Neither one of them fully suits the roles that society has assigned to them due to their gender, and in marrying each other, they no longer have to.

[sunderwight]

SV AU where transmigrator Shen Yuan and reincarnated PIDW Shen Jiu are the twin sons of one of Luo Binghe's prominent vassals. Specifically, a demon king of near-equivalence to Mobei Jun in terms of personal power, who has suffered the past couple of centuries due to a lack of influence on Luo Binghe's political decisions (no daughters to marry off to him, no personal relationship or ability to form one, so no clout at court).

But after PIDW Luo Binghe returns following the Bingge vs Bingmei extra, rumors begin to spread that his lordship might like to add a man or two to his harem. SJ & SY's dad smells an opportunity, and brings his sons to court. Demon Dad is sure to emphasize his sons' great scholarly pursuits, ethereal beauty, and impressive qi reserves.

Now of course, both Shen Jiu and Shen Yuan have different ideas of what is going on. Both of them think they're the only one with memories of a past life, and that their brother's oddities are a result of being an actual demon child (whereas they are, of course, weird for completely different reasons). Shen Yuan completely misses the subtext of what their father is trying to do (of course Luo Binghe wouldn't be interested in men, he's the stallion protagonist!), and is just excited for the chance to catch a glimpse of the legendary xin mo sword or see the hero in action, while also hoping to stay out of range of the death curse that befalls any guy who gets too close to the protagonist's aura. He also needs to keep his brother safe from that same effect, and ensure neither of them are accused of snooping around Luo Binghe's wives!

Shen Jiu, on the other hand, knows exactly what their father is trying to do and smells an opportunity to take revenge on the beast who killed Yue Qingyuan. He's spent years figuring out the demon emperor's weaknesses, both the physical kind and the kind uncovered via things like discontent wives and conquered enemies. Now he just needs to get close enough to his target actually use that information. Preferably before anything happens to his witless brother, who clearly has no idea that their father has just offered them both up to a terrifying monster like prime cuts of beef!

End result: Shen Yuan and Shen Jiu keep unintentionally getting in one another's way, while Luo Binghe himself has an existential crisis about these two guys who seem to embody both what he would expect from the reborn Shen Qingqiu he's been searching for, and that strange Nice Shizun that he actually experienced in the other world he stumbled across. But why are there two of him???

[merakiui]

thinking about successful, married-man azul who has it all. a good job, a happy life, a beautiful family, the type of house that makes the neighborhood jealous, etc etc...

and he's throwing all that away in lustful pursuit of the young dancer he's fallen for at the club. in his (flimsy) defense, he gets stressed and life is rough. it's difficult to balance being a businessman, a father, a husband, a productive member of society... and sometimes he just wants to forget all of that and feel young again, unbound by the conventions of the adults around him. freed from the constraints of society.

he knows it's wrong and he feels terrible because it was supposed to be a one-time thing and it's not your fault because you don't know any better. >_< but he feels the furthest thing from guilt when he slips his wedding ring off and stuffs it in his pocket. he shouldn't be coming back, shouldn't let you sit on his lap and play with his tie, shouldn't even entertain a relationship with you because it's dangerous and there's no way he can keep these two worlds separate.

but then that's part of why it's so thrilling. you're everything his wife isn't, and it's not her fault. he's the only one to blame for all of this. it's just,,, he really can't resist. he's buying you perfume and other expensive, luxury gifts in exchange for dates and visits to hotels, and because he's so meticulous he's able to keep all of this wrapped up as a neat, tidy secret.

until it isn't.

you find out the man you've been sleeping with and casually dating is married. he has a family, in fact. and you feel so sick with revulsion because oh, that poor woman! those children! you can't do this. you need to come clean; this is too much of a burden on your chest. but azul can't have that. if you go spilling the truth, it'll ruin everything he has.

suddenly, all of the luxury isn't so shiny and sweet anymore. this house—does his wife even know he has another property? how much does she know? oh, you feel sick.

azul panics. these worlds are so close to colliding. he can't have that. he can't, he can't, he can't.

you turn just in time to see him raising the baseball bat above his head. and then there's a brutal crack and...darkness.

he'll keep you here in this house, conditioning you into believing you're his wife and this is your house and all is well. he can't set you free now, not when he's hurt you so badly, not when you can hardly remember anything after that attack. he's sorry, or so he'll say, but selfishly he's relieved.

he can still have you and his other life. :)

worst of all, he's proud.

proud of his ability to lie as easily as he breathes.

[invenusworld]

rohini

rohini's presiding deity is brahma, who is said not to be concerned with morals, with 'right or wrong,' but rather simply with the act of bringing to fruition every impluse of the imagination. fantasy, desire and sexuality are deeply entwined with the symbolism and cosmic function of rohini — the red woman — the one easily aroused, and rohini is ultimately in the pursuit of pleasure, in all its various guises.

rohini seeks to uncover, unearth and experience all which causes the loins to stir, regardless of its perceived morality. It may seem that there are no limits to the sexual proclivities of Rohini, and in some instances there aren't — as in the extreme case of rohini sun native Marquis de Sade.

to quote The Hidden Octave,

"[The Marquis'] Rohini influence comes in strongly in his total disregard for laws and morality, a total abandon into all things sensually gratifying as this is not a nakshatra of discrimination, rules or any of the programming that holds man back from giving himself over to his lust. Fundamentally, Rohini is the pursuit of pleasure for its own sake.

Have a crush? Who cares if he’s a convict felon or your middle school teacher or married? Go after it."

Egon Schiele, Self-Portrait with Physalis, 1912

Egon Schiele is an artist whose mercury is in Rohini. Mercury represents the area of life that we have a practical, tangible understanding of. The placement of mercury also reflects our creations and manipulations of matter.

"Egon Leo Adolf Ludwig Schiele (12 June 1890 – 31 October 1918) was an Austrian Expressionist painter. His work is noted for its intensity and its raw sexuality, and for the many self-portraits the artist produced, including nude self-portraits. The twisted body shapes and the expressive line that characterize Schiele's paintings and drawings mark the artist as an early exponent of Expressionism. Gustav Klimt, a figurative painter of the early 20th century, was a mentor to Schiele."

Schiele's mentor, Gustav Klimt, has his venus in Rohini.

Gustav Klimt, Daphne, 1903

I will now share an excerpt of an article by Dominic Witek regarding the polarizing and deeply controversial artworks of Egon Schiele

"Created in the era of Freud, Schiele’s work can be seen as a metaphor for the psychoanalyst method of the talking cure where drawing is synonymous with speaking, revealing and releasing hopes and fears lodged in the unconscious."

Here, the author likens the work of Schiele to that of Rohini moon native Sigmund Freud.

"The broad spectrum of emotion depicted is expressed by Schiele’s various presentation of women. The different articulations of their bodies seems to convey a host of the artist’s attitudes, ranging from fear and distanced superiority, to admiration and desire for women. Indeed the artist’s relationships with women reflected these hopes and fears. He married Edith Harms, a respectable woman with whom he established a marriage based solely on friendship, continued an intimate relationship with Wally Neuzil despite attempting to end it before his marriage, and had an unusual relationship with his sister Gertrude.

[...] characterisations of the artist’s sister invite questioning on the nature of their relationship, which at least hints at the incestuous."

Brahma was condemned for incestuosly desiring his own daughter (creation) Rohini, which prompted her to adopt the form of a deer in Mrigashira to escape from her father.

"Egon was arrested in 1912 for suspected sexual harassment of underage girls. Despite this traumatic event (which he lamented extensively in his writings), he continued to depict very young women until his death.

His aesthetic mirrors Freudian attitudes in which sex is intimately related to death, the connection between the pleasure principle and the death drive, Eros and Thanatos. Freud articulated this tension in relation to women, defining the ‘castration complex’ as experiencing the fear of being castrated, while caught by an irrepressible sexual desire. Woman with Black Stockings, 1913, articulates this tension as a reclining woman lifts her skirt to reveal her sex"

It seems as though the threads of the unbridled pursuit of pleasure weave together the works, philosophies & artworks of rohini natives through the ages

To quote Jason Farago, "True morality, for Sade, entailed following your darkest and most destructive passions to their farthest possible ends, even at the expense of other human life.

To kill a man in passion was one thing, but to rationalise killing by law was barbarous.

“We rail against the passions,” [Sade] wrote, “but never think that it is from their flame that philosophy lights its torch.”

[stellarsecrets86]

Venus in Signs of Groom Persona Chart

🐝🐝Valentine's Readings Are Open. Here

{PS: For entertainment purposes only.Have fun💚}

(Venus in groom pc reflects love, attraction, beauty, and how he shows affection or desire for someone. It is a reflection of how one approaches romance, receives, and enjoys his pleasures and what attracts him to his romantic partner. The sign of Venus in marriage also means growing in harmony, intimacy, and common joy with one's partner. Venus's position in the signs gives insight into the groom's style of romance, what he values, and what kind of dynamics he brings into the relationship.)

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Masterlist

Vedic Masterlist

Venus in Aries

Venus in Aries faces love passionately, enthusiastically, and with a bold sense of adventure. He is very straightforward in his pursuit of romance, and he values a relationship that is exciting and energetic. He is fascinated by the pursuit and seeks a self-assured, energetic partner that shares his intensity. Married, he brings a spontaneity to the marriage and maintains the excitement within the relationship, though patience and compromise may be a further development he needs to attain. His partner will be grateful for his honest and uninhibited love, though will also need to help him funnel this impulsive tendencies into constructive ways of showing his love.

Venus in Taurus

He is a very romantic, sensual groom who seeks stability in love kind of husband. He needs someone to create emotional and physical security in his life; he is the type of person who thrives by building on trust and loyalty. A married Venus-in-Taurus man is attentive; he especially loves making his surroundings warm, comforting, filled with love, and beautiful. He is tactile in showing love-thoughtful acts, gifts, and service. However, this love of routine can also make him change-resistant, and his partner may have to encourage flexibility. His commitment and grounding energy make him a reliable and nurturing husband.

Venus in Gemini

He is charming, witty, and intellectually curious in love. He values communication and mental stimulation, often seeking a partner who will engage him in lively conversations and share his curiosity for life. He is playful and adaptable in his marriage, possibly not consistent with emotional depth and perhaps getting easily bored. His partner would need to keep the relationship busy and stimulating while motivating him to tap more intimate emotional levels. A placement that makes the bridegroom attach as much importance to friendship and mental compatibility as to the intimacy of marriage.

Venus in Cancer

Venus in Cancer makes him caring, intuitive by emotions, and deeply interested in creating a loving home. He seeks someone who values emotional security and family life with the same urgency as he. In marriage, he shows love through care, protection, and acts of devotion. But his sensitivity can easily render him moody or emotionally clingy, and his spouse will have to reassure him while encouraging healthy boundaries. He is a very committed husband and does well in a relationship where emotional closeness and mutual support are essential.

Venus in Leo

He is charismatic, romantic, and loves to express his love in grand, dramatic ways. He wants a partner who looks up to and appreciates his generosity and flair for romance. In marriage, he is loyal and brings warmth, excitement, and passion into a relationship. He may, however, be proud or in need of constant reassurance, and his partner will find themselves balancing his ego with gentle grounding. This placement is a very dedicated husband, who flourishes in a relationship that feels unique and filled with mutual admiration.

Venus in Virgo

Venus in Virgo brings a spouse who is practical, humble, and loves through acts of service and attention to detail. He looks for an appreciative partner who realizes how dependable and responsible he can be in supporting a relationship. Marriage finds him considerate of the needs of his spouse and attempts at their betterment, even at the cost of some self-sacrifice. But he may be overly critical of his actions, or even raise his expectations too high, and his partner will have to remind him about the need to kick back and get emotionally spontaneous. He is a deep and secure husband, who values commitment and mutual goals.

Venus in Libra

Venus in Libra is romantic, tactful, and very appreciative of harmony in his intimate relationships. He seeks a partner who shares his love of beauty, proportion, and mutual consideration. In marriage he is sensitive, gracious, and strives to maintain harmony and rapport. This can suppress his feelings and make it hard for him to come to decisions, though. His wife will have to promote open communication while appreciating his romantic gestures and polished sense of love. This placement does promise a husband who is fair-minded and puts much effort into establishing a harmonious and rewarding partnership.

Venus in Scorpio

In groom pc,Venus in Scorpio is passionate, intense, and serious about love. He wants a partner who can match his emotional depth and shares his desire for profound intimacy. Married, he is loyal and brings transformative energy into a relationship, often putting emotional connection above everything else. Still, this intensity could spill over into possessiveness or issues of trust. His partner will have to honor his depth and also help him with emotional openness and mutual understanding. This placement presents a husband who is intensely dedicated and who esteems a relationship that surpasses the superficial.

Venus in Sagittarius

Venus in Sagittarius is adventurous, optimistic, and freedom-loving in love. He needs a partner who shares his zest for life and enjoys exploring new experiences together. In marriage, he brings excitement, humor, and a philosophical approach to the relationship. He may have commitment phobia or prefer independence rather than emotional intimacy. His partner will need to learn to appreciate his adventurous nature while, simultaneously, nurturing an emotionally intimate environment. This placement belongs to a husband who brings expansion and joy to the partnership by respecting shared beliefs and goals.

Venus in Capricorn

Venus-in-Capricorn in groom pc is mature, stable, and committed to a lifelong love. He wants a partner who would appreciate his commitments and realism in building up their life. He is steady and supportive in marriage, considering security and accomplishment the important aspects of one's married life. He may have troubles being openly demonstrative or putting too much weight on material security. His wife should help him balance out his ambitions and emotional closeness with shared joys. This placement would therefore suggest a husband who is deeply committed to the stability and growth of the relationship.

Venus in Aquarius

In the groom pc, Venus in Aquarius is unconventional, innovative, and values individuality in love. He searches for a partner who shares his progressive ideals and enjoys exploring new ideas together. He is open-minded in marriage, encourages independence for his spouse, and prioritizes intellectual connection. He may struggle with being detached emotionally and/or favor the mind over emotions. A partner would enjoy his perspective while also nudging him toward sharing more emotions. Your husband is freedom-loving, easygoing, egalitarian, and respectful in your relationship.

Venus in Pisces

Venus in Pisces is ultraromantic, dreamy, and ultra-highly empathetic as a lover. He wants a partner who will share his idealistic vision of love and thus create a spiritual and emotional bond. He brings tenderness, creativity, and selflessness into a marriage, often putting the needs of his spouse before his own. Sensitivity makes him susceptible to the possibility of escape or taking unrealistic views. His partner should provide grounding energies while appreciating his romantic and imaginative nature. This placement presents the husband who values deep emotional connectivity and thrives in a relationship filled with love and compassion.

✨✨

[Each sign of Venus represents the unique approach the groom has to love and partnership, showing the way he nurtures romance, intimacy, and shared joy in marriage.]

[monamipencil]

— venus in furs | l.cn

⋆ summary; portraying lee chan as an example for simp from the 19th century. or in which, he's the biggest loser for you.

⋆ pairings; chan x fem! reader ⋆ genre; smut, fluff, friends (?) with benefits, 19th century! au ⋆ w.c; 2.5k+ ⋆ warnings; chan is the biggest simp, lots of praising and body worship, oral (f. receiving), foot job (m. receiving), service top! chan, also subby! chan, unprotected sex (19th century condoms are horrendous), multiple orgasms, SIMP CHAN ALERT ⋆ a/n; here she is!! i'm always down for writing simp! chan. this is my first time writing a victorian era fic, let me know how you guys like it <3

your heat throbs between your legs as the man before kisses down your knees with a passion that rivals the fire crackling behind him. you card your fingers through his soft brown locks and sigh softly, leaning back on the canapé.

“we should stop this,” Chan freezes at your cold yet tender voice. he looks up at you, distraught brewing in his beautiful eyes.

“my lady, have I done you any wrong? have I offended you?” he says, tone laced with a desperateness that breaks your heart.

but you're in no place to enjoy the worship he bestows upon you. you, a small village girl, and he, the heir to a powerful business. and though you rot your days away, fantasizing about marrying him, you know it is not practical.

you think of the gasps and the sneers that the news of your relationship would elicit from society. this was all a game of cat and mouse. you escapes his pursuits and chases and he revels in it, pushing him to pursue you further.

what started as a playful banter ended up in flames of passion and pining. if not careful, it could burn you and leave you with scars. the world is forgiving enough for a rich man but not a poor woman. any woman at that.

“it is not as simple, dearest.” you sigh, resolve, breaking with every passing second.

Chan has never been as devasted. he couldn't imagine a day without kissing your skin and worshipping you as if you were Venus. which you were, in his eyes.

with all his honesty, Chan never thought when he was with you. any rational thought slips from his mind, and you infect him with your warm, soft skin and deep, lusted eyes. the only thoughts that conjure are how to please and make you happy.

even now, as you hold a stake to his heart and threaten to pierce him, he can only think of pleasuring you.

“can I taste you for the last time, my lady?”

his offer knocks the air out of your lungs, and you try not to embarrass yourself by sucking in a sharp breath. your eyes dart towards the darkness of the room, searching for anything to look at but him.

even with the only light in the room behind him, he looks ethereal with Selene resting in his orbs. with hesitancy in your breath, you nod, unable to deny him.

he doesn't waste any time, slipping his hands under the rich silk covering your body. you undo the robe he bought you, one of the many decorating your wardrobe.

he drags his hands up your skin, pushing the robe off you. his groan echoes through the marble walls of his chamber, and his eyes dart over your naked figure.

the glow from the Renaissance fireplace casts you in a mesmerizing light. these are some of the times he envies the hands of a painter. oh, how he wishes to paint and immortalize you in this world.

your nipples harden under his touch, and your heat glistens with desire. you spread your legs, welcoming to have a taste. he places hot kisses on your thighs, slowly moving closer to your core.

you hold in your breath, anticipating his tongue as his breath wafts against your heat. he presses a kiss to the pearl between your folds before placing his tongue flat against your lips.

the sounds that fill the chambers are blasphemous. you toss your head back on the rich fabric of the canapé. your lips turn red, trying to hold in moans as his tongue works wonders on you.

his nose brushes against your clit, sending waves of pleasure through your body. his tongue prods at your core, sucking and slurping. he hums, drinking your sweet nectar as if it's water. one could only describe him as a starved man with the hungry laps of his tongue and lustful moans from his chest.

moon-shaped prints form on your hips under the pressure of his nails. he looks up at you with a passion that trembles you to your core, and your walls break down. wanton moans echo from the back of your throat, and your hips thrust up to meet his starving mouth.

heat courses through your nerves, and sweat coats your body. pressure builds in your stomach, causing you to gasp and thrash under his hold. he slips in a calloused finger to rub the small nub, filling you with pleasure.

your hands fly up to your breasts to play with your nipples. you roll them between your thumb and forefinger. you lock your ankles behind his back, pushing his head further into your core.

the familiar pressure builds up in your stomach, causing your moans to grow louder. you tug his hair roughly and move your hips against his mouth. with another tug of his hair, you come undone. your moans quiet down, but that doesn't stop Chan from licking you dry, not wasting any of your fluids.

he pulls away from your throbbing heat, and your arousal glistens on his chin and lips.

“what would your loved ones think?” you ask between bated breaths.

“what?” a pout graces his lips, and he tilts his head. big, brown eyes tinted with confusion. you suck in a sharp breath and resist the urge to pepper kisses all over him.

“that you love to have your head between a maiden's legs.” it was his turn to breathe sharply, jaw tensing ever so slightly.

“what would they think of you, knowing you begged to have a taste of her?” you lean towards his kneeled figure, tracing a lone finger on the side of his face.

“that you neglect yourself to please her?”

you whisper against his cheeks, lips brushing against his soft skin. he gasps when you press your foot against his crotch. you fall back on the canapé, continuing your ministrations on his groin.

you trace the outline of his shaft with your toe and apply pressure specifically on the tip. he groans and wraps his fingers around your shin, letting you have your way.

he presses a kiss to your knees as if it's your knees that are bruised from passion. you press your sole against his hard cock, and toe his balls.

chan never complains. he always accepts whatever you have to give him with open arms, whether it's an orgasm or a heartbreak. and it's a pity that you only want to bask him in love, but you know it will destroy you in the end. so you gave him cold eyes and snarky remarks. but who knew that he would rejoice in your indifference?

“my love!” he moans, rutting his hips against your foot. even now, he baffles you. he accepts the bare minimum with no complaints and always gives his best in return.

the pet name never fails to make you flush and throb with yearning. you stop your movements, the ache between your legs growing stronger. he whines at the loss of friction and looks at you with longing.

you swiftly pull the robe on your body and stand up. you grab his collar, pulling him up with you. he groans when you roughly push him down on the mattress.

climbing on the bed, you straddle his hips and slot your lips against his in a hot kiss. he immediately responds, one of his hands wrap around your nape and the other rests on your lower back.

he pushes his tongue past your lips and moans at the warm of your mouth. the robe is again stripped from your body and he flips you over, gaining control over you.

the yellow-orange flames paint his skin a beautiful glow and you find yourself lost in his beauty. chan kisses you like a man depraved from any touch all his life. it's all teeth and tongue and gasps for breath.

he inhales in your scent and kisses your neck in a rushed manner. his hands wander all over your body, trying to find purchase anywhere he can. his teeth bruises your skin and his lips soothe the bruises right after.

and his clothes come undone one by one, till you're both laying naked on the velvet sheets of his bed. his cock grazes the inside of your thigh, a premonition of what's about to unfold.

his lips descend to your nipples, wrapping his lips around it. an undignified moan leaves you as his warm tongue swirls around the sensitive bud. he sucks obediently on the bud, occasionally teething on it. he switches to the other bud, doing the same before continuing his descent.

he leaves a trail of kisses from the valley of your breasts to the mound of your heat. his eyes are closed and eyebrows knitted in concentration as he does so. he stops and looks up at you, the flames in his eyes burn brighter than that of the wood fire.

he offers a small kiss to your clit before mounting you again, placing his hands on either side of your torso. you're rendered speechless when he kisses your forehead, gently.

“I could not care less about what others think.” his breath is even and the assurance in his eyes sends a flurry of emotions coursing through your veins.

he chuckles at your gaped mouth and the break in your character amuses him.

“what did you expect from this fool that can only think of you? hmm?” a gentle yet playful smile plays on his lips. your flushed expression overjoys him.

he shifts, positioning himself before your slick core. the bulbous head of his shaft prods your lips and he gently caresses the soft skin of your waist. he leans down, pressing a series of kisses from your temple to the corner of your lips.

“I burn for you, by my body and heart.”

he kisses you with burning passion and his sentence is punctuated by pushing his cock inside you. the stretch is delicious and you moan at the contact, hips rushing to meet his.

your slick arousal makes it easier for him. he enters you with ease and you moan in unison when he bottoms out. he pulls out before sinking back in. he follows it till he finds a comfortable pace to split you open.

you hook your arms around his neck and your legs around his hips. the heel of your foot digs into his back, and your nails leave red imprints on his skin. your lips has a mind-numbing grip on his cock. he pursues a relentless pace that molds your insides to the shape of his cock.

your walls flutter around him and you cling to him, desperately. he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him. he thrusts harder, the sound of skins slapping reverberate off the marble walls.

the bed creaks with each movement of his hips. you moan, and throw your head back with a roll to your eyes. the sound of your slick every time your hips meet is sinful.

“kiss me, please. please.” Chan begs you with urgency. as if he'd succumb to death if you didn't oblige.

you rake up your nails up his back and eye his bruised lips, licking your own. a sultry haze swirls in your eyes and he's mesmerized by them. his pace slows down, involuntarily and you cradle his face before smashing your lips to his.

Chan whines and whimpers into your mouth, his hips meeting yours erratically. the orange embers from the fire place illuminates him in a heavenly aura. you dig your heels into his back, forcing him to move harder.

the pressure builds in your stomach again and you feel light-headed. Chan thrusts into you with passion and your slick drips down from your thighs.

“I love you,” you gasp at a certain hard thrust, and his confession kindles a new fire inside of you.

“I admire you,” he punctuates with a soft kiss to your temple and thrusts harder.

“god, you're so beautiful.” he cries, holding you tighter. you do the same, and rest your head on his neck. you kiss his neck, peppering him with red blemishes.

with another hard thrust, you come undone, moaning and whimpering his name. he pulls out, jerking off before he spills warm, white ropes of semen on your stomach and thighs.

he falls on the mattress beside you and pulls your body closer. soft apologies spill from his lips as he peppers kisses on your skin to make up for his roughness.

you catch your breath and melt into his arms. the fire has died down, leaving the room cold and dark but Chan keeps you warm. his hands caress your skin and he looks at you with such admiration that makes him cry.

the heat of the passion died down, leaving room for soft vulnerability. his fingers entwine with yours and he holds you as if you're the most sought after price in all of the world.

“I love you,” you admit and he freezes, mind buffering as he processes your words. he searches your face for any insincerity but he's met with none. you offer him a gentle smile and a warm hug.

he melts into your embrace and you hear a few sniffles. you chuckle, rubbing and patting his back. but he pulls away, leaving you confused.

you see his naked back disappear behind the room divider and he soon emerges with a wet cloth. a hiss falls from your lips when he presses it on your heat, cleaning you up. he apologizes with a sheepish smile and a blush on his face.

a few minutes have passed and you're laying on his muscular chest, waiting for slumber to take you over. he clears his throat and stops his caresses.

“so, what do you think of marriage?”

he maintains a emotionless visage but you can see the fear dancing in his orbs. you try not to chuckle and give your answer with an even voice.

“a burden,”

“a burden?” he parrots, voice laced with hurt.

you hum, feeling your heart thrum wildly beneath your rib cages. if it weren't for the bony cage, your heart would've ripped it's way out, begging for him to touch it.

“but not to me,” you whisper, kissing his skin. you snuggle into his neck, and you can't see his face but feel him hold in his breath.

“not if it's you.”

he switches positions, hovering over you now. he silently asks for assurance and you nod. he breathes finally, and thanks the lord for answering his prayers. you laugh at that and return his embrace.

he peppers kisses all over you and chuckles with you.

“but dare to cross my heart, and your dick won't be attached to your body anymore.” you threaten but he smiles at you, clearly lovesick.

he kisses down your neck, to your breasts and stomach where he rests his head. he hears your heartbeat thump and he smiles.

“my heart would break before yours, if I were ever to do so, my lady.”

you caress his head, slumber rooting in your body.

“my soul is far too intertwined with yours.”

tags; @seungkwanschicken @aaa-sia @dokyeomkyeom @bangantokchy

@asyre @armycarat2612 @bewoyewo @gyuguys @embrace-themagic

@aaniag @nurihihi (send an ask to be added on the taglist!)b

[saturnbeknownst]

an aventurine analysis—(most of) the references in his character.

i thought i'd compile this information on here in case someone else might be interested in this!! enjoy!! if i missed anything, do let me know in the comments. ⁠♡♡

aventurine's light cone is called "inherently unjust destiny". an "inherently unjust destiny" refers to a situation or outcome that is fundamentally unfair or biased from the start. it implies that the factors determining one's fate are intrinsically unequal, leading to inevitable injustice. this phrase is often used in discussions about societal structures, where certain groups might face systemic disadvantages that predetermine their outcomes, regardless of their actions or efforts.

the name kakavasha means the cry of a young crow in sanskrit.

kakavasha was born on the kakava festival, held by romani people on may 5-6.

the name aventurine is based off the aventurine stone, which represents opportunity and luck.

aventurine's banner is called gilded imprisonment, which refers to a situation where an individual is trapped in a seemingly comfortable or privileged environment, but in reality, their freedom and autonomy are restricted. this term is often used to describe scenarios where the outward appearance of luxury or advantage masks the underlying lack of true liberty or choice. the concept can be applied to various contexts, such as relationships, employment, or societal roles, where the benefits or status conferred upon an individual come at the cost of their freedom or well-being.

aventurine's quest is called “all the sad tales,” which could refer to “All the sad Young Men” by F. Scott Fitzgerald—a collection of short stories. i've summarized all of them below:

The Rich Boy an upper-class man, Anson Hunter, is emotionally distant and incapable of deep love. despite several relationships, including a significant one with Paula Legendre, his arrogance and fear of commitment leave him alone and regretful. Winter Dreams Dexter Green, a working-class young man, falls for the beautiful but fickle Judy Jones. he builds a successful life in pursuit of her, only to realize later that she has married and lost her charm. the story reflects themes of unattainable dreams and disillusionment. The Baby Party John and Edith Andros take their daughter to a children’s party, where a minor conflict between kids escalates into a physical fight between their fathers. the story highlights adult immaturity and the fragility of pride. Absolution a young boy named Rudolph Miller struggles with guilt and strict religious expectations. after confessing a minor sin, he receives harsh punishment from his father, leading him to question morality. the story serves as a thematic prelude to The Great Gatsby. Rags Martin-Jones and the Prince of Wales a wealthy woman, Rags, is pursued by a mysterious and seemingly noble man, who turns out to be an imposter. the story critiques social pretensions and the illusions of high society.

The Adjuster a woman named Luella, who believes she deserves happiness without effort, is advised by a psychiatrist to embrace life’s hardships. the story explores self-delusion and personal growth. Hot and Cold Blood two men reflect on a failed business venture and how their differing personalities—one cold and calculating, the other passionate—led to their downfall. the story examines human nature and success.

The Sensible Thing George O’Kelly, an ambitious but struggling man, is rejected by his love, Jonquil, due to financial instability. after achieving success, he returns to her, only to find their love has faded. the story mirrors themes of lost innocence and changing emotions.

Gretchen’s Forty Winks a husband, Roger Halsey, feels neglected when his wife, Gretchen, prioritizes her beauty sleep. His jealousy and insecurity lead to comedic misunderstandings, revealing the absurdity of marital tensions.

in the cn dub, aventurine's quest is titled “dance in the slaughterhouse,” which refers to “Dance in the Slaughterhouse,” a novel by Ed McBain. [spoilers ahead] in this novel, detectives from the 87th Precinct investigate a snuff film, uncovering a dark network of violence and sexual exploitation. as they track the killers, they face corruption and danger, leading to a tense and gritty conclusion.

when we switch to aventurine's pov in the penacony quest, it's is called danse macabre. the "danse macabre," also known as the "dance of death," is an artistic and literary motif that emerged in the late Middle Ages. it depicts the universality of death, illustrating the idea that death comes for everyone, regardless of their social status or position in life. the motif typically features skeletons or personifications of death leading people from all walks of life��such as kings, popes, peasants, and children—in a dance toward their graves. the danse macabre serves as a reminder of the inevitability of death and the transient nature of earthly life. it was often portrayed in murals, prints, literature, and music. one of the most famous representations is the fresco in the Cemetery of the Holy Innocents in Paris, created around the early 15th century. this theme became particularly popular in times of plague and social upheaval, reflecting the widespread presence of death and the shared human experience of mortality.

— on a similar note, when we switch to aventurine's pov, we see a question right under danse macabre. the translation is “Quo Fata Ferunt?” which literally means, “Whither the Fates Carry (Us)?” the motto appears on Gibraltar’s coat of arms, granted by Spain’s Catholic Monarchs in 1502, before the British took control of the territory in 1704.

eidolons:

eidolon one; prisoner's dilemma: it is a game that demonstrates why two people might not cooperate, even if it's in their best interest. in the game, two players are arrested and interrogated separately. each has two choices: to cooperate with their partner by staying silent or to betray their partner by confessing. the outcomes are:

if both stay silent, they get a light sentence.

if one betrays and the other stays silent, the betrayer goes free and the silent one gets a heavy sentence.

if both betray, they both get moderate sentences.

the dilemma arises because while mutual cooperation yields a better overall outcome, individual incentives lead both to betray, resulting in a worse outcome for both.

eidolon two; bounded rationality: it is a card game that simulates the decision-making process under constraints. in this game, players must make choices based on limited information, time, and cognitive resources. the aim is to replicate real-world scenarios where individuals cannot consider all possible options or outcomes. the game involves making trade-offs and prioritizing certain actions, reflecting the concept that people use "bounded" rationality rather than perfect rationality when making decisions.

eidolon three; droprate maxing: droprate maxing is a strategy used in games, particularly in those involving loot or collectible items, where players aim to maximize their chances of obtaining rare items. this involves optimizing various factors that affect drop rates, such as choosing the best locations to farm, using specific equipment or bonuses that increase drop chances, and repeating actions that yield the best rewards. the goal is to make the most efficient use of time and resources to get the desired items as quickly as possible.

eidolon four; unexpected hanging paradox: it is a logic puzzle involving a surprise event. for example:

a judge tells a condemned prisoner that they will be hanged at noon on one weekday (monday to friday), but the hanging will be a surprise. the prisoner won't know the day until the morning of the hanging. the prisoner reasons:

- if the hanging is on friday, they would know by thursday night, so it can't be friday.

- if it's thursday, they would know by wednesday night, since friday is ruled out, so it can't be thursday.

- by this logic, they rule out each day, concluding the hanging can't happen at all.

despite this reasoning, the prisoner is hanged on a day they don't expect, making the hanging both surprising and logical.

the paradox arises because the prisoner's logical deduction leads to a conclusion that contradicts the judge's initial statement.

eidolon five; ambiguity aversion: it is when people prefer known risks over unknown risks. in simple terms, if given a choice between a bet where they know the exact odds of winning and a bet where the odds are unclear, most people choose the one with known odds, even if both bets might have the same potential payoff. this happens because people feel more comfortable and secure when they know what to expect.

eidolon six; the stag hunt game: it is a game that illustrates a situation where cooperation and trust between individuals lead to better outcomes, but there's a risk involved. for example:

two hunters can either hunt a stag (deer) together or hunt rabbits alone.

hunting a stag requires both hunters to cooperate; if they succeed, they both get a large reward.

hunting rabbits can be done alone, and each hunter gets a smaller, but guaranteed reward.

if one hunter goes for the stag and the other hunts rabbits, the stag hunter gets nothing, while the rabbit hunter gets a small reward.

the game shows the dilemma between choosing a safe, smaller reward (hunting rabbits) or risking cooperation for a larger reward (hunting a stag). it highlights the importance of trust and cooperation in achieving the best outcomes.

achievements related to aventurine:

when we witness kakavasha's story, we get the achievement "Sibyl, what do you want?" the phrase "Sibyl, what do you want?" originates from T.S. Eliot's poem "The Waste Land," specifically in the epigraph at the beginning. the full epigraph, translated from Latin, is:

"For I myself saw with my own eyes the Sibyl at Cumae hanging in a jar, and when the boys said to her, 'Sibyl, what do you want?' she replied, 'I want to die.'"

this passage references the Sibyl of Cumae, a prophetic figure in Roman mythology who was granted immortality by the god Apollo but not eternal youth. as a result, she grew older and more withered over time, longing for death as a release from her endless, decrepit existence.

the epigraph serves to set the tone for "The Waste Land," a poem that explores themes of decay, disillusionment, and the search for meaning in a fragmented, modern world. the Sibyl's desire for death reflects a sense of despair and futility, which resonates with the broader themes of the poem.

how is this related to aventurine? well, for one, kakavasha's life revolves around death. it would surprise nobody if all he knew at this point would be death. he has been granted a life that could be described as a 'dream' by many, but for him, quite like the Sibyl of Cumae, it could only be a curse. his loss of innocence is also expressed in this line.

upon defeating aventurine's boss, we get the achievement "she replied, ‘i want to die,’" which is a continuation of the previous achievement ("sibyl, what do you want?"), and the sibyl's response, and in this case, also aventurine's.

combat abilities/traces:

(technique) the red and the black: “The Red and The Black” is a novel by Stendhal. [the paragraph summarizes the red and the black, so spoiler warning.] it follows Julien Sorel, a poor but ambitious young man in 19th-century France. he becomes a tutor and has an affair with Madame de Rênal, which forces him to flee to a seminary. later, he gains favor with the aristocratic Marquis de la Mole and begins a passionate affair with the marquis’s daughter, Mathilde. when his past is exposed, he attempts to kill Madame de Rênal, is arrested, and sentenced to death. in prison, he rejects his past ambitions and accepts his fate. Mathilde mourns him, while Madame de Rênal dies of grief.

— peaceful calm: refers to a state of deep tranquility and serenity, where there is an absence of stress, agitation, or disturbance. It's a feeling of inner stillness and relaxation, where both the mind and body are at ease. In this state, one may feel grounded, clear-headed, and free from worry or tension.

— still water runs deep: the latin "still waters run deep" is a proverb with latin origins that suggests that a calm and placid exterior often conceals deep thoughts, emotions, or complexities beneath the surface. it implies that individuals who appear quiet or reserved may possess significant depth, wisdom, or intensity that is not immediately apparent.

— pouring rain: i am still a bit confused about this, but there are two possibilities. it could refer to “In Red Earth and Pouring Rain” by Vikram Chandra, a wounded monkey avoids death by telling an epic tale. His story follows Sanjay, a poet in colonial India, as he navigates love, war, and rebellion. Meanwhile, modern-day characters in California explore identity and belonging.

the other possibility is that it refers to the rain that fell on Sigonia-IV on aventurine's birthday.

(thank you @roxirinart for pointing out this possibility!!) for the 'pouring rain' reference, if it's not referring to anything deeper, it could refer to the act of 'making it rain'—a phrase that means throwing out cash in the air, usually at strip clubs, but it's sort of a slang nowadays for indulgently spending large amounts of money in a lavish or extravagant way, which fits the way his skill is a slot machine hitting the jackpot and how he 'makes it rain' in his ult as well. the pouring part could simply be to emphasize how much money it is (instead of 'drizzling' rain it's 'pouring' rain, which just means it is constantly raining, so a lot of money), or could be a reference to 'when it rains, it pours'—when one bad thing happens, other bad things tend to follow/come with it—which certainly fits how aventurine went through a massacre (in the rain) and proceeded to live a whole life of horrifying 'misfortunes' afterwards.

(shield) fortified wager: a "fortified wager" generally refers to a bet or gamble that has been strengthened or supported in some way. the term isn't widely used, but in this context, 'fortified' suggests that the wager has been enhanced or protected—perhaps through additional safeguards, resources, or strategies. for instance, in gambling or sports betting, a "fortified wager" could mean a bet that has been bolstered by better odds, insider knowledge, or some form of assurance, making it a stronger or less risky bet than it would have been otherwise. it might also involve combining bets or using betting strategies that minimize risk.

blind bet: it refers to a forced bet in poker (and some other card games) that players must place before they see their cards. it’s typically used to ensure there’s money in the pot right from the start of a hand. there are usually two types of blinds in poker:

small blind: a smaller bet placed by the player to the immediate left of the dealer.

big blind: a larger bet placed by the player two seats to the left of the dealer.

these blinds rotate around the table, ensuring everyone contributes over time. the players who place the blind bets are at a slight disadvantage since they must bet without seeing their cards first, thus the term 'blind.'

leverage: it is the ability to influence situations or people so that you can control what happens.

hot hand: it is a phenomenon, previously considered a cognitive social bias, that a person who experiences a successful outcome has a greater chance of success in further attempts.

bingo: it is a game of chance using cards on which there is a grid of numbers, a row of which constitute a win when they have been chosen at random. bingo is one of the most popular forms of low-priced gambling in the world.

[whencyclopedia]

Female Gladiators In Ancient Rome

Female gladiators in ancient Rome – referred to by modern-day scholars as gladiatrix – may have been uncommon but they did exist. Evidence suggests that a number of women participated in the public games of Rome even though this practice was often criticized by Roman writers and attempts were made to regulate it through legislation.

Female gladiators are often referred to in ancient texts as ludia (female performers in a ludi, a festival or entertainment) or as mulieres (women) but not often as feminae (ladies) suggesting to some scholars that only lower-class women were drawn to the arena. There is a significant amount of evidence, however, that high-born women were as well. The term gladiatrix was never used in ancient times; it is a modern word first applied to female gladiators in the 1800's.

Women who chose a life in the arena – and it does seem this was a choice – may have been motivated by a desire for independence, a chance at fame, and financial rewards including remission of debt. Although it seems a woman gave up any claim to respectability as soon as she entered the arena, there is some evidence to suggest that female gladiators were honored as highly as their male counterparts.

Role of Women in Rome

Women in Rome – whether during time of the Republic or the later Empire – had few freedoms and were defined by their relationship to men. Scholar Brian K. Harvey writes:

Unlike men's virtues, women were praised for their home and married life. Their virtues included sexual fidelity (castitas), a sense of decency (pudicitia), love for her husband (caritas), marital concord (concordia), devotion to family (pietas), fertility (fecunditas), beauty (pulchritude), cheerfulness (hilaritas), and happiness (laetitia)…As exemplified by the power of the paterfamilias , Rome was a patriarchal society. (59)

Whether upper or lower class, women were expected to adhere to traditional expectations of behavior. Women's status is made clear through the many works by male writers which deal with the subject in depth and well as various legislative decrees. It is not known how women felt about their position since almost all the extant literature from Rome is written by men. Harvey notes that “we have almost no literary source that reveals a woman's perspective on her own life or the role of women in general” (59).

The one exception to this is the poetry of Sulpicia (l. 1st century BCE). In her first poem, celebrating falling in love, she says how she does not want to hide her love in “sealed documents” but will express it in verse and writes, “It is nice to go against the grain, as it is tiresome for a woman to constantly force her appearance to fit her reputation” (Harvey, 77). This reputation, of course, was forced upon a woman by males; first her father and then her husband.

Sulpicia was the daughter of Servius Sulpicius Rufus (l. c. 106-43 BCE), an author, orator, and jurist who was famous for his eloquence. As a writer himself, his daughter's literary pursuits were most likely encouraged but this was hardly the case for most women. Even in her case, she was still under the control of her father and her uncle Marcus Valerius Messalla Corvinus (l. c. 64 BCE-8 CE). In her second poem, Sulpicia complains about Messalla's control over her in making birthday plans, writing that her uncle does “not allow me to live at my own discretion” (Harvey, 77).

Messalla Corvinus, like his brother, was also an author and an important patron of the arts. Sulpicia, then, was most likely brought up in an enlightened home where women could pursue literary endeavors and, based on her other poems, she also seems to have had the freedom to pursue a love affair with a man she calls Cerinthus who did not meet with the approval of her family. Even in this “liberated” environment, however, she still felt constrained and so it may be assumed a woman had far less freedom of choice in other more conservative homes.

Continue reading...

[choerypetal]

Love at first Sight / Billy The Kid

summary : billy assumed the role of your father's right-hand man, working for a man rooted in tradition and possessing a distasteful approach toward women, especially you. as he engaged in conversations with his boss expressing displeasure regarding you, billy found himself increasingly interested in you. your situation, bound by an arranged marriage to the mayor's son—a union you adamantly rejected—created a unique backdrop. It was during a specific event that billy had the opportunity to meet your father's daughter, and in that moment, he became a firm believer in the existence of love at first sight. this entire journey began with his enduring fascination with the scent of your perfume back at your mother's stable.

ps : english is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes and grammar errors. please don't copy my work without giving proper credit. thank you!

Billy never experienced a genuine sense of belonging, whether he was away or striving to improve the situation for his family. He was acutely aware of society's treatment of outliers. As the affluent men from the village strolled through the suburbs, they, too, recognized the presence of criminals in their midst, and Billy found himself among them. And yet, he blended himself quite well with the wealth too. 

Although you had expected to be the new talk of the town, an arranged marriage with the mayor's son was not on your list of future goals. Furthermore, being wedded to an arrogant individual who was well aware that it was merely a strategic move, and behind closed doors, he had no qualms about bringing his mistress into the same house, was beyond anything you had envisioned. Especially considering that if you had dared to do the same, your father would unleash his fury and shame at dawn, calling you the same names he had directed at your mother. She, in a desperate attempt, had reluctantly embraced the notion of marriage solely to preserve the family legacy. 

"She will marry him, no questions asked." Uttered your father, the day before the marriage. And even in this assertion, it was the most affectionate sentiment he could muster towards his wife. Over time, you began to harbor suspicions that he, too, maintained a relationship outside the confines of home. In contrast to your newly arranged husband, your father, at least, displayed a modicum of dignity and refrained from entirely demeaning his wife in the presence of someone he found more alluring. 

While the mere rumor of the mayor's son getting married spread, it didn't take long for the news to reach even those living close to your mansion. It was an announcement that resonated beyond the village. Citizens from the village, including yourself, were invited to celebrate this new union. Despite wanting to find humor in the irony of the situation, you found yourself gazing at your reflection in the mirror that very morning. Your hair was styled more meticulously than usual, and your maid affectionately applied a touch of powdered blush on your cheeks, suggesting that you should also apply a shade of red to your lips—apparently, your husband's favorite color. However, this notion raised suspicions that he might have mentioned it merely as a reminder of his own extramarital affair. 

On the contrary, Billy found himself deeply engrossed in his pursuit of a plan to earn money and provide for his family back home. What he failed to mention was that he had been working for a member of your family since the very beginning. However, he soon found himself bewildered, troubled by the revelation that your father had a daughter. Despite being accustomed to your father's often proudly expressed family affairs, what offended Billy the most was the notion of witnessing such a beautiful girl tethered to a man he could hardly bear to part with—your new husband. 

As your father's right-hand man, Billy was privy to more information than he probably should have been. He spent countless hours in conversations, observing how your new husband seemed enamored with the notion of having you as his wife. He openly entertained the idea that his mistress was even more alluring, describing her in rather explicit terms. This perspective left Billy contemplating the disdain these two men harbored—not only for their wealth but also for their audacity in talking about  you with so much filth coming from their mouth. 

Unbeknownst to both of you, there was a transparent tension in the air. Your father, having the audacity, warned Billy to tread carefully. "She's a spicy one, you know." He casually remarked one night at the pub, with your mother expressing concern over your father's prolonged absence. "She could make any man fall in love, a seductress she is." The words of your husband tempted Billy to rise and deliver a punch to his face, but he understood that such an act would cost him his job. Driven by the determination to catch a glimpse of your beautiful face on your wedding day, he suppressed his impulse. "You seem quiet tonight, boy." Your father's voice resonated in Billy's already agitated mind. Despite his initial disdain for the man who employed him, this time, Billy managed a smile. Aware that alcohol had taken its toll on the two affluent men, he began to entertain the thought that perhaps even the most sought-after criminal could outsmart every wealthy aristocrat, including your father and your husband.

As the reality of today being the wedding day sank in, you were expected to catch a glimpse of your husband before the ceremony. How mistaken you were when you decided to step out for a breath of fresh air. Suppressing tears, you tried not to panic at the thought of soon saying "Yes" to your husband, officially binding yourself to him. It was at that moment that Billy saw you in full. Carrying out a discreet surveillance as per your father's instructions, he had to halt his horse to avoid causing a disturbance in your courtyard. Dressed in his customary attire, a matching hat and blouse with his curls peeking through, he stood under the humid weather. His piercing blue eyes locked onto your silhouette. In that moment, Billy realized that love at first sight was indeed a reality. 

Your thoughts were consumed by anxiety as you made every effort not to appear completely distraught. Amidst the constant pressure to present perfection, a seemingly inconsequential decision loomed large, poised to alter your life entirely. You were on the verge of declaring your desire to escape this distressing situation forever. If it weren't for your mother's insistence on keeping her daughter by her side, you might have left the wretchedness long before venturing into the wilderness. It was during this tumultuous time that the sound of a horse approaching caught your attention, guided to a halt. A boy of your age emerged, and there was a sense that he might be an outlaw in the employ of your husband's family. His gentle gaze met yours, prompting you to approach cautiously. "May I help you?" You inquired, hoping your recent tears had dried by this point, and the dryness in your voice was simply a result of dehydration. 

"I reckon I should be askin' you the same question, darlin'." The accent hinted that the boy hailed from the South. A man of his demeanor might be viewed with disdain or seen as one who relishes the rugged existence of the wilderness as a mere challenge. However, his mannerisms suggested that this same man was well-acquainted with the nomadic lifestyle. Perhaps, if you were an unattached lady with enough daring in your spirit to break free, you could run away—with or without a total stranger—just as long as it meant being far away from home. "Billy's the name. Your father hired me to be..." He paused momentarily, conscious of your father's confession the previous night about you being the woman he envisioned. However, Billy wanted to witness it with his own eyes and found himself captivated by your subtle vulnerability and the fearlessness you displayed in conversing with someone of lesser means, not to mention a criminal. "His right-hand man. I reckon we haven't been properly introduced. You must be Y/N.” 

Your eyes widened in shock, almost in disbelief, though it wasn't entirely surprising that your father would enlist someone to handle his less savory tasks. It wasn't until today's events that you truly learned about the man your father had only briefly mentioned, leaving you to think he was nothing more than an urban legend. Considering the amount of alcohol in his system, you were hardly surprised. Yet, there he stood—the man your father boasted about during lengthy dinners with his men: Billy the Kid. A figure with a shrewd skill for shooting intruders without hesitation, coupled with a charming demeanor. "I am..." You confessed, your admiration for his demeanor evident as you approached. You became conscious of the horse, realizing it was from your mother's stable. "She's been fed properly." Billy remarked, noting your gesture as you began to caress the braided hair of Billy's horse—a routine you had always done, realizing it was all along the horse reserved for him. "Love the braids, by the way." 

His compliment sent a warm flush to your cheeks. "I've always wanted to know the owner's skill in braiding. I wanted to thank them, but a little bird told me it was someone's daughter who's about to get married. And upon hearing that, I was sad to hear such news." Among all the men you had encountered in your life, something distinctive resonated in Billy, acknowledging the small gesture. He was aware of your presence only at the wrong times and different hours, lamenting the missed opportunity of not meeting you sooner, especially after learning the news of you becoming a recognized wife.

The news struck Billy deeply. In all honesty, he meant every word he spoke. He realized it was merely a matter of being there at the right time, and he could have been the one to offer you in marriage. The thought of heritage and the possibility of being dismissed due to your father's demise didn't concern him. Billy began to believe that if you had been with him all along, you could have been a free lady. Unlike many men in the wilderness, he would have treated you as the woman you were meant to be—a princess in his eyes. Cheating, for him, was a sin. Despite his own involvement in many crime, he was determined not to tolerate disloyalty and would damn well wage a war against any men who prioritized their sins over loyalty. 

"I—" You were so taken aback by Billy's sudden interest that unfamiliar feelings stirred within you, emotions you hadn't experienced in a long time. You had convinced yourself that love was a distant memory, and the idea of loving your own husband seemed utterly ridiculous. "Y/N! The ceremony is about to start!" Your mother's voice interrupted, drawing attention to Billy's presence. A formal smile appeared on her face, indicating that they knew each other long before you did. After all, he was involved in your father's business, and your father was adept at keeping his affairs away from you. "Billy." Your mother called out his name, prompting a respectful bow from him. "Miss." He acknowledged. "I'll leave you two ladies for the preparations, going back to duty." He announced, to which your mother responded. "Oh, you know you're always welcomed, boy. We even kept a plate for you. You're family." 

"You're family." The words echoed in your mind as your mother gently took your arm, guiding you back inside to try on your wedding dress. Before stepping fully inside, you stole a final glance at Billy. He acknowledged your gaze with a brief nod, and you could have sworn you saw a soft smile, implying that everything was going to be okay. 

But it didn't. The marriage turned out to be a complete spectacle. The meticulously arranged plates, with the white and red combination your husband had chosen, were even more distasteful than the concept of marriage itself. Despite having said "Yes," anticipating your father's intense gaze throughout the entire wedding, you were proven wrong. To no one's surprise, after a few drinks, he was already drunk and couldn't care less. However, you sensed someone's gaze shifting entirely from your mother to you from afar. It was Billy's gaze, his usual blue eyes looking at you so lovingly that he began to curse himself for not being the fortunate man to propose. "Don't they make a loving pair," your mother would say to him, although it was only for show. Your mother had shown signs of concern that your husband had already found a mistress back at home. She wanted to ensure that you felt the love your husband supposedly felt for the other ladies, and that man turned out to be Billy.

You came to the realization that throughout dinner, you had been putting on a façade, performing an act solely to appease the affluent company. The discomfort gradually intensified until it manifested as a nauseating twist in your stomach, making it impossible to consume such an excessive amount of food in such a short span. The moment your husband, adorned with a forced smile and a trace of alcohol on his breath, attempted to lean in, you swiftly rose from your seat. A disconcerting sensation lingered as you tried to evade his touch. Meanwhile, you couldn't help but notice Billy's unwavering gaze, indicating his awareness that something was amiss. True to his character as a loyal confidant, he patiently bided his time until you excused yourself, following suit shortly after. However, Billy's departure did not go unnoticed by your father, who inquired about his early exit. "Just need some fresh air." Was Billy's offered explanation.

Only upon reaching the back door did your eyes well up with tears, the very tears you had struggled desperately to conceal both before and after the wedding. As you brushed your fingers against a ring that didn't rightfully belong to you, an overwhelming desire to scream surged within. The pain and desperation begged for an outlet, a release, but no words emerged. Collapsing to your knees, vulnerability engulfed you completely. 

Billy trailed behind, intending to afford you some privacy and a moment alone. However, what he hadn't anticipated was stumbling upon you in such a distressed state. Witnessing you in such a condition was beyond his comprehension. It was inconceivable for him to imagine seeing someone as beautiful and wise as you in such turmoil, especially considering that even his own boss, your father, would allow such a fate. You only became aware of his presence when the rhythmic thud of boots on the wooden planks reached your ears near the back door. Swiftly turning around, you flinched at the sudden noise, relieved to find it was only Billy, signaling there was no need for concern. “Woah there Darlin’. It’s just me…” 

The casual and frequent use of "Darling" as a term of address by you was a mannerism you couldn't envision any other man adopting. The way he effortlessly and elegantly incorporated it into his speech hinted at an attraction that went beyond mere details. It was apparent that he harbored a profound desire to get to know you better, suggesting a possibility of rediscovering the love you believed was lost. This, of course, hinged on your continued role as a dutiful wife to your husband. However, Billy had his own agenda and plans in motion. That you would come with him, back home. 

Your hands strained to reach out, desperate for a connection or anything tangible that could restore the emotions you longed to feel. You yearned to be loved for the woman you truly were, not merely a decorative statue to be admired at someone else's convenience. "Hey—" He noticed your discomfort, limping in an attempt to maintain the facade of perfection. "Shh... Come here." His arms tenderly encircled your waist, a stark contrast to his robust frame, displaying a genuine fear of causing harm. A true gentleman, he was. As he caught the scent of your delicate perfume, a vivid memory surfaced—the first time he encountered it was when your father had gifted him his retired horse. That same fragrance lingered in the horse's mane. Back then, he couldn't put a face to the scent, but now, he was fortunate to not only have a face to associate it with but also a person to cherish. 

"I feel so disgusted... A woman with a husband should not sin." You confessed to him, torn between the desire to have Billy all to yourself and the looming temptation. The notion of love at first sight seemed undeniable, but Billy, with genuine concern, attempted to steer you away from such thoughts. "And let your husband be with that whore back home without even worrying about his own wife? I call that bullshit." His Southern accent became more pronounced, his breath closer beneath your face, and his eyes gleaming in the bright sun of the wilderness. "I wouldn't mind making the husband regret something." He added nonchalantly. 

Tilting your head, your gaze was solely fixed on him. "And what sort of action do you propose to make my husband regret so profoundly?" You teased him with a hushed tone. This banter was a familiar game for you, reminiscent of the numerous long dinners accompanying your father, where many men sought your hand in marriage. Yet, all those efforts went to waste, leading your father to plead with you to consider marrying the mayor's son. "Will you love me the way you're looking at me right now?" You inquired, playfully challenging. 

"I'll do whatever it takes." He asserted confidently, his thumb tracing the line of your chin, lifting it gently to meet your gaze. Your eyes momentarily wandered to the slightly exposed chest, a sight he might have deliberately unveiled for your eyes only. "Anything within my power to claim you as mine. Even if the consequences become their own, I'm willing to make you feel at home once again."

The notion of feeling at home had eluded you for quite some time, a sensation you hadn't experienced in what felt like an eternity. The concept of home seemed so distant that even your own residence became something almost unfathomable, much like the tears that had once dried only to resurface now. It occurred to you that perhaps Billy was the man you had longed to find in your life. If not for that realization, you would be compelled to thank your father for hiring Billy during that critical moment. Fortunately for both of you, Billy shared the same fervor to bring you home with him, even if it meant sneaking out or feigning vacations. 

“Wouldn’t, they suspect of my absent? My husband could care less anyway…” Billy chuckled slightly at the irony of the situation. Something he too found oddly ironic by the subject of you being the object of another wedding that in the end was only to keep the money aligned. “I might have a few tricks up to my sleeve, darlin’. How do we say? By dawn tomorrow? I’ll come pick you up.” 

As you contemplated the excuse, fully aware that you would scrutinize it, he pressed on. "Mother said she'll keep this a secret. She mentioned you'd been in contact with a distant cousin, and the plan was for you to spend a few weeks there and such. Oddly enough, your husband didn't seem to mind and even agreed." Your eyes registered disbelief. Did you hear correctly? Your mother? The same mother who appeared so vulnerable and hesitant, had orchestrated everything behind your father’s back. She was likely cognizant of Billy's admiration for you since his initial visit to the stable, where he expressed a desire to confront your father whenever he spoke of you in a distasteful manner. 

"I promised her that I'd protect you and play the part of an unsuspecting ally upon returning to your husband. Your father tasked me with being your right-hand man this time, but it seems our luck had something even more significant in store." He confessed with softened eyes. A part of you yearned to embrace him, to acknowledge and reciprocate his admiration. However, your gaze shifted to his lips, a desire he sensed had been lingering since your first meeting. Without hesitation, he gently held your chin with one hand, drawing your lips closer to his, fully immersing both of you in a passionate kiss. It was a kiss you had no intention of ending, a kiss that spoke of love—something noticeably absent in your husband's crude and repulsive attempts to win your favor. “Mine…” You whispered so softly, begging for more kisses through it all. 

“Mine forever… Señorita.”

[dollypopup]

I get why people would think it but

Colin is NOT a rake. Colin is a young man trying to figure out his identity and what he likes sexually and trying to understand what the men of his society talk about and do. He's not out here messing around with women just to string them along and then leave them. He's trying to fit in and has been made fun of for being a virgin so yeah, he rectifies that by having sex, but just because he slept with a few women, that doesn't make him a rake? You wanna know who an actual rake in the series is?

Fife.

Because what the fuck happened to Miss Goring? I think about her sometimes and my heart aches for her. Her first season out, she's an 18 year old woman, and an older, titled man of her society who she assumes to be a proper gentleman makes her believe their relationship can actually be something, messes around with her the entire season, and then fucks her in a linen closet at a ball only to....what? Come back the next year with absolutely no mention of her whatsoever. Did she get pregnant? Was sent off in disgrace? Have to marry someone else?

Fife is a 30 year old man who has a bad habit of hounding after young, vulnerable women in his society. He fucks them and leaves them. He's a rake. Colin? Colin is not even close to that. Say what you will about the brothel scenes, but that IS the responsible place for a man of his time to go to for sex. Please stop demonizing sex work. Yes, many of these women are in that line of work because of less than savory reasons, but Colin is not taking advantage of them. He is paying for a service and they are providing that service. It is transactional, and he is the LEAST of their concerns in terms of clientele. A kind, handsome man who pays well and is discrete? Yeah, they're fine with him.

Colin has a history of respecting women. He respected Marina all throughout their courtship, and even after. I know some people sneer at him coming to see Marina, but please keep in mind she is a woman on her own who married a stranger far away from ANYONE who knew her. Colin was worried about Daphne when she came to him, asking if anything happened when she was away and clearly ready to fight for her, so of course he's worried about Marina. Partly he visits her for his own closure, but also like....y'all that's a WELLNESS visit. He's concerned that she's unhappy, but ultimately leaves because she's not hurt and that she tells him to. Colin listens to 'no' from the women around him. He asks for permission from them. He waited for Penelope's consent sexually, but he also didn't even get into the carriage until she allowed him. He even asks "Please, let me in".

Colin lives in a time when women do not have many rights, and he listens to the women around him even more than the men. He is the only one of his siblings to ask for his mum's advice and immediately takes it and takes action. He brings Eloise back a feminist text from his travels, even after she's besmirched as a radical, because he supports her pursuits. In season 2, he also knew of her going to the printers and didn't say anything. He has always respected and cared for Penelope. He hasn't insulted a single woman in his vicinity. He doesn't make the women he flirts with feel bad about themselves, or feel less, but compliments them, all whilst keeping respectable distance so as not to make them think he's interested in marrying them. He doesn't dance with any woman but Penelope in that season.

Colin isn't a rake. He's not a fuckboy. He's trying to act like he is, emulating the circle of his society, but that doesn't mean he is. I swear people just WANT to misinterpret him because that's the easiest way, but Colin is a character who doesn't lend well to surface level readings. He's a nuanced, gentle hearted character who has been looked down on for his sensitivity. He's a deeply relatable person because who of us haven't pretended to be accepted? Especially if we've been bullied or excluded. I know I have. Put on a persona for the sake of survival. And he does so for what? A few weeks? That does not a fuckboy make.

Just say you don't want to understand him and move along because those of us who get him GET HIM. And I'm grateful for a character like Colin.

He's the best man in the series by an entire mile and you can't change my mind about that.

[74thcookie]

does SoT know TR is married?? and how his relationship with lily will be like? :o

Yes and it’s already well known. As SoT he respects her pursuit to knowledge about the creation of life and is saddened that her conclusion to her research is negative. As Mama Berry he still respects her and sees her as a gentle yet stubborn boss. But as himself he envies her yet is proud at the same time.

WL meanwhile sees him as an old yet wise man that needed a companion to help his sad existence.

Both respect each other but barely cross path as SoT and DS. They do casually talk as Mama Berry and Lily instead but WL is curious to who the Sage is actual like outside of his professional and maternal duties.