#it also wants deeply to be loved. to be known. to be recognized

[wereh0gz]

What if I turned elysium into a villain. What then

[shadesofmauve]

I want to step away from the art-vs-artist side of the Gaiman issue for a bit, and talk about, well, the rest of it. Because those emotions you're feeling would be the same without the art; the art just adds another layer.

Source: I worked with a guy who turned out to be heavily involved in an international, multi-state sex-slavery/trafficking ring.

He was really nice.

Yeah.

It hits like a dumptruck of shit. You don't feel stable in your world anymore. How could someone you interacted with, liked, also be a truly horrible person? How could your judgement be that bad? How can real people, not stylized cartoon bogeymen, be actually doing this shit?

You have to sit with the fact that you couldn't, or probably couldn't, have known. You should have no guilt as part of this horror — but guilt is almost certainly part of that mess you're feeling, because our brains do this associative thing, and somehow "I liked [the version of] the guy [that I knew]", or his creations, becomes "I made a horrible mistake and should feel guilty."

You didn't, loves, you didn't.

We're human, and we can only go by the information we have. And the information we have is only the smallest glimpse into someone else's life.

I didn't work closely with the guy I knew at work, but we chatted. He wasn't just nice; he was one of the only people outside my tiny department who seemed genuinely nice in a workplace that was rapidly becoming incredibly toxic. He loaned me a bike trainer. Occasionally he'd see me at the bus stop and give me a lift home.

Yup. I was a young woman in my twenties and rode in this guy's car. More than once.

When I tell this story that part usually makes people gasp. "You must feel so scared about what could have happened to you!" "You're so lucky nothing happened!"

No, that's not how it worked. I was never in danger. This guy targeted Korean women with little-to-no English who were coerced and powerless. A white, fluent, US citizen coworker wasn't a potential victim. I got to be a person, not prey.

Y'know that little warning bell that goes off, when you're around someone who might be a danger to you? That animal sense that says "Something is off here, watch out"?

Yeah, that doesn't ping if the preferred prey isn't around.

That's what rattled me the most about this. I liked to think of myself as willing to stand up for people with less power than me. I worked with Japanese exchange students in college and put myself bodily between them and creeps, and I sure as hell got that little alarm when some asian-schoolgirl fetishist schmoozed on them. But we were all there.

I had to learn that the alarm won't go off when the hunter isn't hunting. That it's not the solid indicator I might've thought it was. That sometimes this is what the privilege of not being prey does; it completely masks your ability to detect the horrors that are going on.

A lot of people point out that 'people like that' have amazing charisma and ability to lie and manipulate, and that's true. Anyone who's gotten away with this shit for decades is going to be way smoother than the pathetic little hangers-on I dealt with in university. But it's not just that. I seriously, deeply believe that he saw me as a person, and he did not extend personhood to his victims. We didn't have a fake coworker relationship. We had a real one. And just like I don't know the ins-and-outs of most of my coworkers lives, I had no idea that what he did on his down time was perpetrate horrors.

I know this is getting off the topic, but it's so very important. Especially as a message to cis guys: please understand that you won't recognize a creep the way you might think you will. If you're not the preferred prey, the hind-brain alarm won't go off. You have to listen to victims, not your gut feeling that the person seems perfectly nice and normal. It doesn't mean there's never a false accusation, but face the fact that it's usually real, and you don't have enough information to say otherwise.

So, yeah. It fucking sucks. Writing about this twists my insides into tense knots, and it was almost a decade ago. I was never in danger. No one I knew was hurt!

Just countless, powerless women, horrifically abused by someone who was nice to me.

You don't trust your own judgement quite the same way, after. And as utterly shitty as it is, as twisted up and unstead-in-the-world as I felt the day I found out — I don't actually think that's a bad thing.

I think we all need to question our own judgement. It makes us better people.

I don't see villains around every corner just because I knew one, once. But I do own the fact that I can't know, really know, about anyone except those closest to me. They have their own full lives. They'll go from the pinnacles of kindness to the depths of depravity — and I won't know.

It's not a failing. It's just being human. Something to remember before you slap labels on people, before you condemn them or idolize them. Think about how much you can't know, and how flawed our judgement always is.

Grieve for victims, and the feeling of betrayal. But maybe let yourself off the hook, and be a bit slower to skewer others on it.

[maraudersilver]

Sit on my face (Haymitch Abernathy x Fem!Reader)

Warnings: face riding, oral (f! receiving), mentions of past sa, slight spoilers for SOTR, porn with plot. MDNI A/N: I don't know what this is. I was thinking about Haymitch's nose and suddenly I was writing a whole smut one shot about it. I do not write much smut lately, so I'm sorry if it's not the toe curling type. English is not my first language and I wrote this during an hour brainrot. Wc: 2,8K

"I want to sit on your face."

Haymitch looked up from the book he was reading, one he had snatched from Plutarch's library a long time ago. It was nothing interesting, something about scientific theories of old regarding space. Sid would have loved it, he thought, more than him.

"What?"

"I want to sit on your face," you repeat, louder this time. "If you wanna, or course."

"Why wouldn't I want that?"

He blinked at you, deadpanned, book forgotten in his lap as he rearranged himself in the loveseat.

It had been a couple years since Snow was killed and a new government arose. It wasn't perfect, not by any means, but at least it was democratic and the districts had more freedom than they had known in seventy five years.

You had been a fellow victor, the survivor of the 60th Hunger Games. Survivor. Never winner. After the revolution, you had fled to district 12 with him, babbling about a life of peace away from people. You had no family left, and your friends had been killed during the bombing of the Capitol, all of them trained medics who lost their lives trying to save others.

He had been adamant on pushing you away, warning you that he didn't want, didn’t need, more company than he allowed. Good thing you were as stubborn as a mule.

After twenty-five years of solitude where he thought he would never love again, you had carved open his heart and wrote your name in neon colours. Having breakfast with him, making sure he was still alive by checking from time to time, accompanying him to feed his geese.

One time, you had followed him to Lenore Dove's resting place when you saw him going deep into the woods, fearing he would do something stupid. He had been infuriated with you, screaming about lacking any privacy and about you sticking your nose everywhere you weren't invited in. Instead of leaving, as he was used to people doing, you had kneeled beside him and shared his grief, silent as little by little every detail about his beloved Lenore Dove left his lips.

Even since, you made sure to gather the most beautiful and colourful flowers in the meadows for him to carry Lenore Dove to her grave, your sweet voice always mumbling something along the lines of 'tell her I said hi!' in a cheerful voice.

He didn't mean to. Not at all. But as Lenore Dove had told him once, the walls of a person's heart were not impregnable, not if they had ever known love. And love you he did. At first in silence, almost in denial. Then he started with acts of service, like fixing a broken door or walking you down to the Hob. But if you ever asked him, he would dismiss his efforts as ‘tryin’ to get you off my ass before you pestered me.’

It took him more than a year after the revolution to finally admit to himself that he was irrevocably, deeply, truly in love with you. In a way he thought he would never be able to again.

But how could he not, with how cute, sweet, intelligent and stubborn you were. His heart jumped at the sight of you whenever his eyes laid upon you, now not being the exception.

And when Lenore Dove gave him a thumbs up in dreams, he knew it was time to finally be happy after more than two decades of misery. His love was fine with him having another love, and when you confessed to also feeling your heart bleeding for him the same way he did for you, the gates of heaven opened for him again. 

“I don’t know. I mean, we’ve never even talked about it. Maybe it’s not something you’re okay with.” You shrugged your shoulders, biting your lip in the nervous tick he had learned to recognize. 

“It’s not as if we’ve shagged enough to bring it up, love.”

It was true. Intimacy had been brought up a few weeks before, and it had been slow paced for both your sakes. After all, both yours and Haymitch’s only experience came from the abuse suffered at the Capitol. And he had never made love to Lenore Dove, too innocent and pure back then to think of it. It was new, and it took a while to feel comfortable in such positions again. 

But he craved you. The more you shared with him, the more his selfish ass wanted to claim. The sweet sounds you made, how your body reacted to his touch, the plump flesh of your lips. And he had been wondering how you tasted for a while now, his cock painful against his pants at the thought of his tongue on you late at night. 

“Yeah, I know,” you sighed, looking up at him sheepishly. He found it funny, how fierce and sassy you were most of the time, and how shy you became at any mention of sex. “But maybe we should start putting on the table things we would like to try.”

“Okay, why not.” Haymitch nodded, lips pressing in a thin line. “I would like to taste you. So I’m in with you riding my face, love.”

“Oh,” you mumbled, not expecting him to agree so easily.

Haymitch smirked at your bashful expression, eyes straying to the geese outside the window, wandering around the meadows. 

“Anything else?” he pressed, reclining in his seat with a manspread that had you eyeing him hungrily with a mix of longing. 

“Um, not for the moment. And you?”

Haymitch shook his head, one of his hands rubbing his stubble absentmindedly. “Let’s start with that. We can add one at a time. Sounds good?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, your attention shifting back to the embroidery in your hands. 

It wasn’t until a week later that it happened. Haymitch and you had been invited to a small festival by the new District 12 town to celebrate an old festivity lost to Snow’s reign of terror. You had been wearing a tight red dress, so tight it left little to the imagination. 

You didn’t get to leave the house at all.

Before opening the door, Haymitch pressed your front against the wooden surface, hands roaming your hips and ass, squeezing for dear life. “Damn, love. Nice dress,” he whispered in your ear, nibbling at the lobe before licking his way down to your neck. 

“Put it on just so you could take it off,” you sighed, tilting your head to the right to give him more access to your skin, which he nipped and kissed while his hands grabbed your thighs. 

“Is that right? At least won’t feel bad when I tear it apart,” he chuckled, turning you around and kissing your lips harshly.

It was hungry, desperate. His lips pressed almost forcefully against yours, tongue already licking your lower lip for access. Your tongues intertwined, teeth clashing, breathing ragged through your noses while your hands found leverage on his shoulders. His stubble scratched pleasantly against your soft skin, tender to the touch afterwards. 

His hands clenched to your waist, pushing you harder against his chest, fisting your dress as much as he could, as if trying to melt the fabric with the warmth of his hands. 

You pulled apart to breathe, a thread of saliva still connecting your lips to his. His were plump, swollen and angry red, surely as his tip would be if you pulled down his pants at that very moment with how hard you felt him against your thigh. So handsome, so ethereal. 

“Dumbstruck already, sweet girl? Have barely touched you and you already look prettily fucked,” Haymitch teased, licking your lips playfully. It did nothing to hide his wrecked state. 

“Don’t get too cocky, old man. Let’s see if you can keep up tonight, huh?”

Haymitch’s chest rumbled with an animalistic growl. Suddenly, you were lifted in his arms bridal style. You squealed, grabbing his shoulders harder at the lack of stability, your boyfriend just snickering at you. 

If he didn’t look so breathtakingly hot, you would have slapped his chest. 

He kissed you again, as desperate as before, swallowing your pathetic whimpers as he brought you upstairs to your shared bedroom. He didn’t pull away until he lowered you on the floor, to which you arched a brow, breathless and hazy.

“No mattress?”

“How am I supposed to take this dress off if you’re laying your ass down on the bed, dumbass?” He snorted at your narrowed eyes, chuckling when you swatted his bicep. “Alright, alright, no need to get violent. C'mere.”

With one hand, he held your cheek as if you were the most precious thing his eyes had ever laid upon, lips grazing your jaw down to your neck again, sucking and leaving love bites in its wake. You gripped his forearms, feeling your knees weak. His other hand pulled down the zipper on your back slowly, savouring the way the clothing fell down from your shoulders to your chest, leaving the valley of your breasts in sight for him.

Haymitch licked his lips, already craving the feeling of your tits in his mouth and hands, wanting to feel the weight of them. In less than a second, your dress was ripped to the floor. You gasped, both for the aggressive rush and for the cold air of the room caressing your mostly naked skin. 

“So pretty,” Haymitch groaned, lips attaching to the visible skin of your right breast, his hands fighting against the hook clumsily. 

You couldn’t help but whine in need, grabbing his hair and guiding him down to your nipple once he successfully tossed your holder away somewhere in the room. His warm breath and hot tongue contrasted with the cooler ambience of the room, so sweet and pleasant on your skin. 

You tossed your head back, sighing at his ministrations. Haymitch now licked your other breast, hand playing with your right nipple and fondling the flesh. It was paradise, his touch almost reverent. The sting of his stubble grounding you to the moment.

Trying to feel his skin, you started unbuttoning his shirt, which had so nicely stuck to his sexy dad bod. Haymitch was a forty-three year old alcoholic, in no way shaped like you had seen him on his games more than two decades before. But, if you had to be honest, he looked better than ever in your eyes. 

His shirt joined your discarded clothing, along with your panties not too long after, and your hands roamed over his hairy chest and liquor belly, wanting nothing more than to lick it. However, Haymitch had grabbed your hair and leaned to kiss you once more, walking you backwards until your knees hit the bed.

He laid you both down, turning so you were on top of him. To say you were confused was an understatement, but you didn’t waste time to pepper his neck and chest in kisses and bites.

“Wait, love,” Haymitch breathed, pulling you up to face him by your forearms. At your lustful eyes, pupils wide and consuming your beautiful irises, he hissed; heart hammering in his chest when you tilted your head in confusion again. “I want you to sit on my face.”

You almost choked on your breath, a moan leaving your parted lips in an unwilling display of desire. “Really?”

Haymitch grasped both your cheeks softly, pecking your lips over and over again. “Yeah,” he sighed. “Ride my face, pretty thing.”

He helped you up, worshipping your body on your way to the head of the bed. You could feel your hands sweating and your lungs constricting in nervousness. What if he didn’t like your taste? What if you smelled? You were definitely not depilated like the women back at the Capitol, and for the first time in your life you feared your hair. Maybe he didn’t like it.

But all fears disappeared when you heard his groan as you straddled his head. You could barely see his eyes, but the grey of them was focused entirely on your wet entrance, clenching around nothing and waiting for his mouth to alleviate the ache. 

“You’re so fucking perfect, sweet girl. Need your pussy on me, darling. Need to taste you.” His voice was hoarse in lust, deeper than you had ever heard him speak. 

That was all you needed to lower yourself to his awaiting mouth with the aid of his hands on your hips, and your core immediately had his tongue licking a stripe up to the hood of your clit. You spasmed, moaning loudly and placing your hands on the headboard to support your point of gravity. 

He groaned, clenching his hands around the flesh of your hips. “For fuck’s sake, you taste  so fucking good,” he moaned. Haymitch. Moaned. Haymitch had moaned! It only fueled you farther, moving slowly up and down his mouth, his stubble pinching the inner of your thighs and your rear in a painful, pleasant scratch. Tomorrow your skin would be sore for sure. 

His thumbs came up to lift the hood of your clit, his tongue twirling around it and sucking it into his mouth. Jolts of pleasure cursed down your spine, your nails holding to the headboard for dear life, your things and knees trembling as a finger entered you and pumped in and out of you in rhythm with his hot mouth on your clit.

"Haymitch! P-please, don't —ah!—, don't stop!"

When you thought it couldn’t get any better, he pulled away slightly to blow cold air on your core, which had you screaming and squirming in his grasp. He just chuckled, the rumbling of his lips a blessing as his tongue returned to your entrance, replacing his finger.

In a swift motion, you rubbed your clit against his nose. Your eyes rolled back, hips moving faster, riding his face as he had basically pleaded. Oh, how much you had dreamed of that crooked and big nose of him on you. It continued rubbing your bundle of nerves, tongue switching between thrusting in and out and licking your juices. His hands now squeezing your ass, fondling the tender flesh.

It didn’t take long for the familiar knot at the pit of your stomach to form, coiling deliciously. You could feel your throat going sore from how loud Haymitch’s mouth was making you moan. One of your hands came down to grab his locks, and Haymitch groaned again against your pussy, tongue as deep in you as he could master. 

A slap to your ass and his nose rubbing circles to your clit was enough for black spots to form in your sight, pleasure cursing from the very inside of your core to the tip of your fingertips, your orgasm crashing you like a wave to the rocks. Your thighs clenched so hard around his head you feared you were going to crush his skull. One of his hands came up to fondle your left breast, thumb and index finger twirling your nipple.

“Cum for me, sweet girl. Cum in my mouth,” Haymitch begged, nose still stimulating the place you needed him most, his tongue following to lap at your juices as you came hard in his mouth. Your body spasmed on top of him, toes curled and thighs pressed against his ears painfully. 

You could barely keep your hips moving without collapsing, and when his licking became too much for your overstimulated pussy, you pulled away and sat on the pillow next to Haymitch’s head, both of you trying to regain your breathings and composure. You looked down at him, and you moaned at the sight. His eyes were lustful, and his chin was covered in your cum and spit, hair sprayed over the pillow. His forehead was furrowed in strain, the fine lines carved in his face over the years painting the picture in brighter colours.

It was an image you would keep safely guarded in your memories for the rest of your life, how beautiful your man looked with his face ridden. Overwhelmed with affection, you leaned down to kiss his lips, tasting yourself on his lips and swallowing his grateful whimper.

“How was it?” he succeeded in asking, breathing still ragged.

“Amazing,” you admitted, laying down next to him, hands coming up to clean his chin tenderly, to which he smirked triumphantly. “I mean it! Best orgasm ever.”

He huffed a laugh, chest going up and down rapidly. “Good to know, because I want you on my face again.”

You chuckled until you noticed the serious look in his grey eyes, and your smile dropped immediately. “Like, right now?”

He nodded, smiling mischievously at you. Hell, he was going to kill you of overstimulation. 

No need to say, Haymitch became addicted to you riding his face every working day.

[rancidhomo]

I wouldn't usually be all in on anything related to vacant rich white guys but I think its the way that the vapidity almost imperceptibly ebbs every now and then that has unfortunately captivated me very much.

Based on 95% of Saxon's words and behavior, like Chelsea I also would have quickly come to the conclusion that Saxon is soulless, interacting with his environment and other people in superficial ways that barely penetrate even a centimeter past his skin, never compelled to truly engage with the world, or allow any force to do even a little bit of substantive work inside him.

Most people unfortunate enough to have a conversation with him would probably assume that he's never known love in his life - and that he doesn't even know he hasn't, either. That's why it's so satisfying to me to witness the moments where Lochlan does something that briefly catalyzes evidence of something substantial existing within Saxon.

e.g., when Lochlan places his hand on Saxon's back and runs his fingers through his hair, Saxon's immediate unguarded look of euphoric overwhelm at the intimacy of the moment is absolutely wild. How few gestures of genuine, intentional affection has Saxon been the recipient of? For a moment, Lochlan's action allowed us to glimpse an interiority/depth of emotion in Saxon that he usually seems devoid of.

Also, in Saxon's flashback to the kiss, he is effusing such a palpable glow of vulnerability. You can feel it with the positioning of their bodies (Lochlan higher and bending down to Saxon), the warmth of the light, the softness of the kisses that Lochlan is bestowing on Saxon, Saxon letting the back of his fingers lightly graze across Lochlan's neck.

He is exposing his longing for tenderness. Lochlan's love and affection briefly shows us that Saxon is a human capable of feeling. He is a person relishing connection and intimacy with another person on mutually-informing emotional and physical levels, something that I'd assume neither of them have experienced before.

I will say that the story as Mike White has written it makes sense to me. These are two lonely brothers, raised at different times by bizarrely disconnected wealth-obsessed parents who either didn't teach the boys how to love others/cultivate relationships in healthy ways, or perhaps did and said things that actively hindered their children's emotional development and capacity for connection. Lochlan as the youngest child alone in a house with uninterested and distant parents, no instinct for developing love and intimacy with others and terrified that his loneliness will be forever. Saxon as the oldest child, out in the world grinding for useless and empty experiences with people just as vacant as him, incapable of getting anyone to love him and terrified that his whole life will be devoid of sincere intimacy.

I buy Sam Nivola's theory that Lochlan isn't sexually attracted to Saxon and that his actions were influenced more by his people-pleasing impulses. I think he recognized that Saxon has a physical/sexual attraction to him and, knowing how much Saxon prioritizes physical sexual experiences, wanted to offer gratification/consummation as a form of connection.

Although it may not be distinctly sexual, I do think that Lochlan gets a tremendous amount of pleasure from making Saxon feel good. He is happy to tenderly kiss the affection-starved brother that he loves deeply and that he knows loves him just as much in return. Saxon seems to actively crave both Lochlan's emotional and sexual attention, and Lochlan seems to enjoy giving it.

Even though they are more-or-less strangers in each other's lives due to their age gap, their love for each other is likely the only easy, natural source of good feelings they have. The distance between them in age/life stages/actual physical space, however, makes access to those feelings difficult. It makes sense that two siblings from a fucked up family, one or maybe both of them queer in a repressive conservative religious environment, with severely stunted emotional development, would interpret each other's love as the only thing that could bring them happiness- but more importantly, the only thing that will keep them from dying alone and unloved. It makes sense that in circumstances like that, the boys wouldn't know how to stop themselves from conflating and seeking to gratify all of their impulses for connection, with each other, all at once.

[chelseaknoo]

Hiii I love ur ficsss

Can u do a 2000 Eminem x latina/singer ???

2000s Eminem x Latina singer! Reader

Note:I wanted to make this fic like the other fic that I made.

You’re in your twenties, with a few years of experience already under your belt in the music industry. It’s been a whirlwind ride of late nights in the studio, long days on tour, and the thrill of live performances that leave you breathless. Tonight, you’re preparing for another show, meticulously applying your makeup in front of a mirror. The familiar buzz of a nearby radio fills the dressing room with a mix of chart-topping hits and hip-hop beats. It’s just background noise—until a new track begins to play

She's got curves in all the right places, and a smile that can light up the night,

I'd do anything to be with her, to hold her tight.

I dream about her every night, and think about her all day,

I'd give anything to be with her, to make her mine in every way.

Hearing it, you’re momentarily stunned—this is Eminem, known for his raw candor and biting verses, rarely this personal. Fans and media latch on, fueling speculation. For you, it’s a mix of flattery and curiosity, leaving you to wonder about the intent behind his words as they echo through your world.

You were performing at a festival, a massive event where music fans gathered from all over, creating a charged atmosphere that crackled with energy. It was one of the biggest performances of your career so far, and you’d just finished checking your setlist when word came through the grapevine: Eminem was also performing. The realization sent a thrill down your spine. After his recent track where he’d dropped your name with lyrics that had set the rumor mill ablaze, you knew there was a chance you might cross paths.

During Eminem’s performance, the energy was palpable. The crowd was on fire, hanging onto every lyric he delivered with his signature intensity and precision. Midway through his set, the beat shifted, and you recognized the opening notes immediately—it was the song he’d written about you. The realization sent a wave of heat rushing to your cheeks, and you couldn’t help but feel both flattered and completely taken off guard.

As the track played, the massive screen behind him lit up with visuals. To your surprise, a snippet from one of your own music videos appeared. It was you—dancing, singing, completely in your element. The image faded in and out, perfectly synced to the lyrics he was delivering. The crowd erupted, clearly catching the connection and loving every second of it.

You felt your heart race as you stood there, unable to take your eyes off the screen or him. The mix of admiration and boldness in his performance was undeniable—he’d just laid it all out there, right in front of thousands of fans. You pressed your fingertips to your lips, feeling the heat in your face as you blushed deeply. It was surreal, having someone like Eminem make such a public declaration, and for a moment, you were overwhelmed by a mix of embarrassment, pride, and something far more personal.

As you made your way backstage, the crowd’s cheers outside provided a distant, rhythmic roar. The corridors were a chaotic mix of performers, stagehands, and crew members hurrying by. Just as you reached a quieter corner, you saw him—Eminem, unmistakable in his hoodie and baseball cap, talking with his team. For a second, your heart stopped. The man behind the lyrics was just a few feet away.

He caught sight of you, paused, and then walked over, his eyes holding a glimmer of curiosity mixed with that familiar intensity. You met him halfway, every step feeling like a blend of surreal anticipation and adrenaline.

You’re in your twenties, a seasoned performer in the music industry, and tonight, you're at one of the biggest festivals of the year. The air buzzes with excitement, the ground vibrating beneath your feet as crowds scream for the next artist to take the stage. You can hear the faint pulse of the music outside as you finish your makeup in front of a backstage mirror, perfecting the final details of your look. The lights reflect off your eyes, capturing the adrenaline coursing through you.

But the excitement of the night isn't just about the performance. Earlier today, a new track dropped on the radio, and to your surprise, it featured none other than Eminem—mentioning you in his lyrics. His words have been replaying in your mind, each line burning themselves deeper with every replay:

*“She's got curves in all the right places, and a smile that can light up the night,

I'd do anything to be with her, to hold her tight.

I dream about her every night, and think about her all day,

I'd give anything to be with her, to make her mine in every way.”*

Hearing those lines for the first time left you stunned, a rush of disbelief mixed with flattery. Eminem, one of the most respected names in the game, had woven you into his story with words that were both bold and unmistakably personal.

Before long, you’re backstage at the festival, preparing to take the stage. The crew members buzz around, checking equipment and making sure everything runs smoothly. Suddenly, the atmosphere shifts, and you can sense him even before you see him—Eminem is here. He walks in with a confident stride, his presence magnetic and undeniable, his signature hoodie and serious expression unmistakable.

He spots you, and for a brief moment, his gaze softens, a flicker of something unspoken passing between you. He approaches, and the noise around you seems to fade away.

"Hey," he says, his voice low but carrying over the hum of the backstage commotion. "I guess you heard the track."

You smile, trying to play it cool despite your racing heart. "Kinda hard to miss when you’re broadcasting my personal life to the world, don’t you think?"

He chuckles, a genuine sound that catches you off guard. "Guilty as charged," he admits. "I meant every word, though."

There’s a beat of silence between you two, heavy with a mix of tension and curiosity. You search his eyes, trying to read the man behind the verses that caught you off guard.

"So," you say, breaking the silence and tilting your head playfully, "was that your way of asking me out, or do you just enjoy making things complicated?"

He grins, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Maybe a little of both. Keeps things interesting."

Before you can respond, a stagehand interrupts, letting you know it’s almost time for you to go on. Eminem steps back but not before leaning in, close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath.

"Break a leg out there," he murmurs, his voice just for you. "I’ll be watching."

With that, he turns away, leaving you with a pounding heart and a renewed energy. As you make your way toward the stage, you can’t help but smile, knowing that tonight's performance—and whatever happens next—just got a whole lot more interesting.

With that, you stepped onto the stage, the festival’s energy washing over you like a wave. The world might have gone wild for his lyrics, but now you had a story unfolding that was just yours—and it was only beginning.

Eminem stood backstage, his eyes locked on you as you took command of the stage. He had seen countless performers before, but there was something different about you—something captivating. The way you moved, the fluid grace with which you danced, and the effortless confidence you exuded as you sang each note—it all seemed to pull him in, leaving him momentarily spellbound.

The lights cast a glow around you, accentuating every curve of your body as you swayed in rhythm with the music. Your energy was electric, and it radiated out to the audience, who moved and sang along with you, completely entranced. Eminem found himself leaning forward, his focus narrowing to just you. Every step you took, every flick of your wrist, every note you hit—it all carried a magnetic power that he couldn't tear himself away from.

He watched the way your eyes sparkled as you connected with the crowd, how your smile lit up your entire face, adding an extra layer of vibrancy to your performance. There was a raw authenticity in how you poured yourself into every lyric, and he couldn't help but admire it. To him, it was as if you weren’t just performing—you were telling a story, one that demanded to be heard and felt.

"She's good," he muttered to himself, barely noticing the words slipping out. But it was more than just skill. There was something intangible—a spark that made you shine brighter than the stage lights themselves.

When you spun around and your gaze briefly flickered toward backstage, catching sight of him, a knowing smile played on your lips. For a heartbeat, it felt like time slowed down. He felt a rush of something unfamiliar—equal parts admiration and intrigue.

As the final beats of your song echoed and the crowd erupted in cheers, Eminem couldn't help but smile, his awe evident. You took a bow, breathing heavily but radiating pride. And as you walked off the stage, he knew one thing for certain: you weren’t just another artist on the lineup. You were someone unforgettable.

As you stepped off the stage, the roar of the crowd still echoing in your ears, you felt the adrenaline coursing through your veins. Your heart was pounding, and your chest rose and fell with each deep breath as you tried to ground yourself after the electrifying performance. As you made your way backstage, wiping a sheen of sweat from your forehead, your gaze fell on Eminem.

He was standing off to the side, his eyes fixed intently on you. There was no mistaking the look in them—complete awe and genuine admiration. He seemed mesmerized, as if he was replaying every moment of your performance in his head. For a second, you locked eyes, the world around you fading away. The intensity of his stare made your pulse quicken, but you managed to keep your composure.

A playful, almost shy smile curved your lips. You held his gaze for a moment longer, letting the connection linger before breaking it with a soft laugh. Then, with a casual flick of your hair, you turned and began walking toward your dressing room, your team moving around you like a wave of support. You could feel the weight of his attention, even as you walked away.

Inside the dressing room, you exhaled, your reflection in the mirror still glowing from the thrill of the stage and the encounter. As you fixed your hair and adjusted your outfit, you couldn’t shake the memory of his eyes on you, the way it made you feel seen—not just as a performer, but as something more. It was a moment that would linger, and you knew it wouldn’t be the last time your paths crossed.

As you touch up your makeup in the mirror, perfecting every detail, you take a moment to admire your reflection. The adrenaline from the performance still buzzes through your veins, and the roar of the crowd echoes in your ears. Just as you pick up your brush to fix a final smudge, the door behind you opens. You barely register it, assuming it’s someone from your team.

“Nice show out there.”

The unexpected sound of his voice makes you jump. Turning quickly, you find yourself face-to-face with Marshall—Eminem. There’s a spark of amusement in his eyes as he leans casually against the doorframe. You try to steady your breath, suppressing the thrill running through you.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he adds with a smirk. “Well, maybe a little.”

“Mission accomplished,” you reply, recovering with a smile. “But thanks. Glad you caught it.”

He walks over, closing the door behind him. The air between you grows charged. He doesn’t stop until he’s standing right in front of you, close enough that you can see the flecks of gray in his eyes.

“You’ve got everyone wrapped around your finger out there,” he says, his voice low. “Kinda impressive.”

“Is that a compliment?” you tease, raising an eyebrow. “Coming from you, I’ll take it.”

“Yeah? You should.” He steps even closer, and suddenly, his hands are on your waist. Without warning, he lifts you effortlessly, placing you on top of the desk. You barely have time to catch your breath as he moves between your legs, his presence overwhelming, his gaze intense.

“You always surprise me,” you murmur, feeling your pulse quicken.

“Good,” he replies, his lips curving into a slow smile. “I plan to keep it that way.” He leans in, his breath warm against your skin. “But you know,” he adds softly, “seeing you like this, up close? Way better than any stage.”

Before you can respond, his lips find yours. The kiss is firm and confident, with just a hint of the hunger simmering beneath the surface. You wrap your arms around his neck, deepening the connection, losing yourself in the moment. Time seems to slow, the world outside the door fading away until it’s just the two of you.

When he pulls back, there’s a glint of mischief in his eyes. “I’ve been waiting for that,” he admits, his voice husky.

“Were those lyrics just an elaborate setup?” you tease, still catching your breath.

“Maybe,” he says with a grin, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Worked, didn’t it?”

You laugh, the sound light and easy, feeling the tension melt away. “I guess it did.”

His hands linger at your waist, fingers tracing idle patterns. “I’d say we make a pretty good duet.”

“Is that your way of saying you want more?” you challenge, feeling bold.

“Definitely,” he murmurs, leaning in again. “And I’m just getting started.”

As Marshall’s lips trail down your neck, a soft sigh escapes your lips. His hands rest firmly on your waist, pulling you closer as you run your fingers through his hair. The intensity of the moment is overwhelming, and every touch, every breath, feels electric. The room seems to shrink around you, narrowing your focus to just him—until the door suddenly swings open.

“Yo, Marshall, you ready for—oh, hell no.”

You both freeze. Turning your heads simultaneously, you spot Proof standing in the doorway, eyebrows raised, a mix of shock and amusement playing across his face. His eyes widen as he takes in the scene—Marshall standing between your legs, hands still on your hips, your flushed faces. There’s a beat of silence, and then Proof bursts out laughing.

“Oh, this is rich,” Proof says, leaning against the doorframe and shaking his head. “Am I interrupting something? Nah, scratch that. I know I’m interrupting something.”

Marshall lets out a low groan, pulling back slightly but keeping his hands firmly on you. “Man, do you ever knock?” he snaps, though there’s a hint of a grin tugging at his lips.

“Marshall, you ready to go out and celebrate? The night’s still young."

Marshall doesn’t even look up at him, his focus entirely on you as he steps closer. He takes a slow breath, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Celebrate, huh? Nah, I think I’ll pass on that. I’ve got better plans tonight.”

Proof raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Oh yeah? And what's that?"

Marshall’s lips curve into a flirtatious smile as he moves even closer, his voice lowering to a near whisper. "I’d rather spend the night with her, if you don’t mind." His eyes lock onto yours, a heat building between you both as his gaze lingers, making it clear he’s not just talking about any casual hangout.

You feel your heart skip a beat as Marshall leans in slightly, his breath warm against your ear. "She’s the one I’m celebrating with tonight," he adds, his tone rich with intent, sending a shiver down your spine.

Proof chuckles, looking between the two of you, clearly understanding what’s going on. "Alright, alright, I get it. I’ll leave you two to it. Just don’t keep me waiting too long." He smirks, walking toward the door. “But you owe me a drink later, man.”

Marshall barely acknowledges him, his attention fixed on you. As Proof exits, Marshall turns back, that same smirk never leaving his face. “Now, where were we?” he says, his tone both playful and hungry, eyes never leaving yours. <3

[relenafanel]

The wangxian business proposal (kdrama) au idea I was discussing the other week:

wwx goes on blinds date on NHS’s behalf. NHS is going on blind dates on NMJ’s behalf. It’s trickle down economics of rich heirs not wanting to go on blind dates

They have this whole system where WWX goes pretending to be NHS, and is so off putting in various ways that the other rich families stop trying to set up their sons and daughters with the Nie.

NHS and NMJ are very grateful (NMJ for not having to alienate the other families by bluntly turning down their sons and daughters, NHS for not having to do anything at all)

WWX enjoys the scheme. It’s fun to act outrageous and get paid for it, and he gets a free meal at a nice restaurant + new designer clothes as a perk. Win/Win! (plus, he was raised as a rich young master even if he only gets to use those etiquette stills in knowing exactly how to break them to greatest effect) 

LWJ is newly returned from working at the New York branch; his return is heralded by LQR finally stepping down as deputy CEO and handing the position to LWJ. His first order of business is firing their chief financial officer in his inaugural speech for misappropriation of company funds. There’s a slideshow of how egregious the fraud is. It’s marvelous.

WWX has worked for Lan Industries for 5 yrs and has never seen anything as glorious or petty in his life. 

The Lan Industries board of directors is less pleased. This is the kind of situation that should have been handled quietly, but since this was the third time it was supposed to be handled LWJ doesn’t give a shit what they want 

Except he’s made life hard for his brother; LQR is told to find LXC a life partner. LWJ agrees to go instead, only to realize within moments that LXC played him into being social. Well, the joke would be on LXC because LWJ would just marry whoever his brother had been set up with and be done with it.

It goes like this: LQR reaches out to NMJ, NHS filters the request to himself, accepts it and sends WWX. WWX says yes, he has his next restaurant and outfit request already picked out. LXC also accepts with the intent of doing it on behalf of LWJ. 

LXC and NMJ end up being end-game as the secondary couple so this is huge irony.

At no point is WWX told his date is a Lan. Author personally likes to think NHS does it on purpose. NHS would vehemently deny involvement.

This is leading up to: WWX is sitting in the restaurant sipping on a lovely glass of wine, wearing a delightfully slutty outfit and nothing on his mind but what he'll order and that since he has no info on who his date will be he'll have to improvise. He hopes they're the type of person to be insulted by his outfit and not enjoy it. He does have some very boring outfits in his closet designed for people who would find a slutty outfit compelling.

That's all to say that when LWJ walks into the restaurant and is led to his table, WWX recognizes him as his very attractive and very petty boss.

Fuck.

Bonus:

WWX is still in his heterosexual era, which makes it a very big issue that LWJ tries to arrange marriage immediately. It makes it a bigger issue that he'd tried to get rid of LWJ by aggressively getting in his personal space and now they're escalating quickly past third base.

(LWJ is a secret third option as someone who looks and behaves as though the slutty outfit would be off putting but is deeply into it. WWX wouldn't have seen that coming even if he knew who his date was)

WWX is still LWJ's employee, and he thinks if LWJ gets a good look at work!wwx's face he'll know immediately. It's too bad WWX is excellent at his job and LWJ wishes to discuss his ideas. work!WWX starts wearing glasses, a known effective disguise. 

WWX doesn't know LWJ has seen work!wwx's face, has figured out the ploy, and keeps arranging office meetings for the rapidly escalating disguises (amusing) and excuses wwx makes (petty) and also because he enjoys being near him both romantically and intellectually

(basically things start moving very fast, wwx doesn't know what's going on but he's not having a good time)

(he's having a very good time)

Bonus bonus:

LXC and NMJ meet to discuss their younger siblings getting married. NMJ knows it's not actually NHS. LXC knows NMJ was who LQR originally tries to set him up with. The most awkward part of the evening is when LXC leaves the next the morning and meets the real NHS, and then has to decide how to tell LWJ.

[pankielovesfan]

The Prime Shimmer breaks Fan's code and that's really cool

I've recently thought more about just how incredibly important The Prime Shimmer IS to Fan's entire story and character, and about breaking apart from the show and helping him put in effort to improve. Even if this was already established and said countless times, I've started to understand it even deeper when I think about it more sooo I wanted to write this out

As the core part of Fan, he loves the show and all its characters. Everything he's ever known and been surrounded with has been related to it and he loves Inanimate Insanity very much and is practically made of that admiration. However, the first time he comes in contact with something from outside the show, it's the shimmer egg. Something he clings to desperately.

The fact that the egg is the first thing he's interacted with that isn't part of the show means a lot to his character, considering how he immediately attaches to it, takes care of it, and values it so deeply. As said by Fan himself on his blog - before he had the shimmer egg with him, he didn't even know how to care. It shows just how significant the egg is for Fan's development in so, so many different ways for representing his path in life. Not sure how to work this into it, but he's mentioned how the egg also helped him feel less lonely.

When he meets them, the way Fan treats The Prime Shimmer in the show is very unique to his character and has always been... so different. He's typically very disconnected from other people, especially with how he's supposed to be a "viewer" for the show, and experiences little to no empathy or care for others because of his love for inanimate insanity as a show, and how he claims to not even know how to care at first. The finale really highlights his feelings for the aliens. He immediately seeks to help them find their other lost child, prioritizing them over his own interests. He really really cares for them, for Fan standards.

All of The Prime Shimmer is so incredibly influential for him to recognize in this way. He actually puts in effort for others instead of sticking to old habits like he does, and I think his general feelings for them are what drives Fan toward progress since what he feels for them is outside of Inanimate Insanity. It's the main hope for Fan's improvement as a person, and I'm very glad Test Tube can still represent that feeling of "being outside of the show" because she came to save him from the ship if that makes sense, she's a part of this to some extent for him. Its lovely.

There's something so beautiful about Fan feeling so much love and protection for the entirety of The Prime Shimmer, creatures that are so removed from the show, something he wasn't made to love or care for. It makes it feel very genuine, caring for it in a way he doesn't care for the other contestants. Through caring about something outside the show, he also learned how to care about Test Tube and recognize her as separated from it, seeing her as an actual person which he rarely can do for many.

It's so fun how Fan can just always tie back to themes of change. Fan, notoriously inflexible and stubborn, allows himself to perceive change and opens his mind to that development to protect the lives he's learned to care for. Starts crying. i think this guy will be the end of me

anyway thanks for reading my insanity.. Fan is willing to try for the prime shimmer which can extend to other people he cares for yay

[maluustrawberry]

I saw that you are accepting fic requests. Do you write about some DreamWork's characters too? I wanted to request a Pitch Black from the rise of the guardians.

And I wanted to say that I love your work, your fanfiction are very good and I love the way you manage to write the characters so well!!!😭❤️❤️❤️

“My Dear Cupid.”

(Pitch Black X Fem!Reader)

Synopsis: Pitch, better known as the boogeyman, ended up developing a new feeling that he had never felt in all his years, feeling for the new guardian who was your total opposite, for you the guardian of love, the cupid.

A/N: By great coincidence I was watching this film recently. Of course I'm going to write about Dreamworks characters too!! You can ask me, but it will take me a while to make some fanfiction because there are already a lot of requests in front. The next one will be Clopin Trouillefou and Hades from Hercules.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

He hadn't imagined that this could happen, no one had, least of all her, who he thought had deliberately made the enchantment so powerful that it affected the king of nightmares.

That flame and that heat disturbed him. Pitch had never felt that burning in all his millennia of life, but everything changed after his first encounter with the guardian of love, Cupid.

After a meeting of the guardians at the North Pole on the subject of the new guardian, The Man in the Moon determined that the new guardian should destroy Pitch and protect the children, along with the duty of bringing joy to them.

Knowing this information for himself, Pitch decided to face the chosen one personally, after all, a simple cupid couldn't do anything against him; or so he thought.

The blizzard and the intense cold dominated the place, but that didn't bother the bogeyman at all, because everyone knows that cold and fear combine perfectly with each other; leaving only agony and suffering. When he saw a silhouette in the middle of all that snow, he deduced that it might be you and sneaked up from behind to destroy you with just one blow from his scythe, and you wouldn't even know who hit you.

That's when he saw your face. The moment you sensed that you were being pursued, you quickly turned around and aimed your bow and arrow, surprising him and leaving him static in that position holding his scythe.

The two of you stood in silence, staring deeply into each other's eyes. Pitch seemed awestruck by your appearance, not imagining that you looked so angelic and delicate. Seeing you pointing your arrow and looking deeply at him, while the snow from the blizzard stuck to your hair, was a sight worthy of a painting.

It was hard to say what kind of look he was looking at and where the flame that was coming from him was coming from. Pitch wasn't as expressive, but his gaze showed that he had never been as perplexed as he was at that moment; it was one of admiration, and therefore full of disturbance and turmoil.

And you looked at him confused, but also wary. "Why doesn't he just attack me?" You asked yourself, and you couldn't attack him either, you were overcome with trembling and the cause of this was the intense cold. Before you could shoot your arrow, he quickly disappeared, using your shadow, to his advantage, which was close to him. That was so fast that a small gasp of fright escaped his lips. You lost sight of him, but looked around, still holding your arrow and bow tightly in case he appeared by surprise, but no, he was really gone.

That was your little encounter. After that day, his thoughts were dominated by you, appearing in such strong colors that this unknown feeling and the desire to tear you apart grew more and more. Your wings were so delicate, your neck so fragile and graceful that he wanted to squeeze and twist it using just one of his hands.

He removed all the hatred and evil from his heart and recognized that this hatred and evil was only love, which had become terrible things in the heart of the bogeyman, a poisonous, hateful and vicious love that seemed more like an obsession. In all these years it never occurred to him that the guardian of the nightmare, the terror of every child, could fall in love with such a fragile, angelic creature, the complete opposite of him, and therefore one of his enemies, but unfortunately it did.

That's when a thought came to him: you were a cupid, the guardian of love, and you made people fall in love with each other. Could that be? It had to be, there was a great possibility that you had put a spell on him. The fixed idea kept coming back and torturing him, he had to get rid of this doubt in his mind by going to you and putting an end to this agony once and for all.

*****

You were flying to your temple after several hours of work. Of course bringing couples together was your specialty, but you also worked on preserving the sympathy, innocence and gentleness of children, because love was related to all that too, and your work only worked with the power contained in the substances you put in your arrows.

On the way there, you sensed that something was wrong, and unfortunately your intuition was right. Your temple was being invaded by Pitch's "horses", but they quickly left as a figure, and when you looked a little further, you noticed that they were stealing your arrows and the vials containing the substances. This made you extremely worried because your arrows and those vials were your most important things, they were what made you the cupid and guardian.

When the last creature left your temple as fast as a shadow, you followed it trying to catch up with it as it flew, it was hard to keep up as the nightmare was fast, but you didn't give up for anything, you weren't so focused on catching up with the nightmare that you didn't even remember to call the other guardians to help you.

With that chase, the nightmare took you into a forest and disappeared among the trees, you landed and looked around. The place was totally dark and gray with a certain evil malice, as if there was no life, only melancholy, which made you immediately become defensive and walk among those trees and hold your bow and arrow.

You looked around for that smoky black creature as you entered the forest, until your ears caught the sound of a neigh and you knew it wasn't just any horse. The cupid ran quickly to where the sound was coming from and stopped at the sight of a broken, old bed in a deep hole, getting closer cautiously, a bad energy taking you over more and more and you were slightly startled to hear the neighing again, but this time inside that hole. You had no choice, had to get back what had been stolen from you. So you entered that deep, dark hole, using your wings to land gently without hurting yourself.

As you stepped into the room, you looked around. It was a poorly lit cave, the lights were just a few rays of sunlight that invaded the deep cavern, who knows how many meters you were underground, the cold dominated the place, but it was bearable. You managed to discover Pitch's hideout, but you also wondered whether you would make it out alive or sane. You gathered your courage and decided to explore the place while your guard was still up, but even so, your fear was palpable, and he loved it, little did you know that he savored your fear.

You stood out in that dark, gray place, with your angelic appearance, lively and so delicate, it was obvious that you shouldn't be there, that environment didn't suit you. The negative energy in that place was so strong that it gave you the creeps, and you also felt the sensation of being watched. You just wanted to take what was yours and leave.

As you walked around the place, you could see the large globe with the little lights on, and you came closer to look at it. You knew that each light was a child who believed in you, but how could he have that in his cave? Your thoughts were interrupted by a voice:

“Looking for something?”

When you looked back, you saw only his shadow on the wall and wasted no time in shooting your arrow, but the shadow quickly disappeared, slipping into one of the corridors of that cave and you followed him, but lost sight of him when you reached that dimly lit corridor:

“Put the arrow down, dear. Don't be afraid, I won't hurt you.” His voice echoed around, in that calm tone of his that could put a child to sleep.

“Afraid? I'm not afraid of you.” You said, still holding your bow and arrow, looking around and turning quickly to look for any sign of him.

“Don't lie cupid, my specialty is understanding people's fears...” Then he stepped out of the shadows, standing in front of you with that smile on his face as he looked you up and down. “...just as you can understand love, but don't seem to understand when it comes from a certain person...”

The bogeyman walked quietly around you, and you couldn't take your eyes off him as aimed the arrow. Both of your hearts were beating fast at the presence of the other, but for different reasons, yours being of fear, but his being of love and eagerness to put his hands on you, if only for the slightest touch.

“Give me back what you stole from me.” You said commandingly. “You don't need my things.”

“Don't you see that I did this just to bring you to me?” He asked seriously and stopped walking.

“And what do you want from me?”

As you asked this, a small smile formed on his lips and he disappeared back into the darkness behind him. You quickly followed him and as you passed through the darkness you felt like you had been teleported to another corner of the cave. He was toying with you, you were desperate, feeling lost and wondering how you got there. You dropped your guard and felt the bow being quickly taken from your hands, one of his horses had picked it up and carried it away, now leaving you unarmed:

“I just need some answers on a specific matter that's been bothering me for days.” You heard his voice echoing again and his shadow walked around the corners of the wall as he explained. “I've never felt a feeling like this in all these years, I feel weak and anxious when it comes to you, but at the same time it's such a pleasant warmth and delicious anxiety when you're around.... Oh! My cupid... What have you done?”

He asked with a sigh. You were confused and stunned by this information, you knew exactly what he was describing and what that feeling was. He was in love with you? But how?...

“My spell doesn't work on myself, I can't make someone fall in love with me. I didn't even know you could fall in love...”

You said as you took slow steps backwards, suddenly you felt a presence at your back and a shiver ran through your body as you felt two icy hands on your shoulders and a whisper close to your ear:

“We seem to have discovered something together. So why would I, the bogeyman, be in love with you, such a delicate cupid who is the complete opposite of me?”

The sensation of the king of nightmares' icy touch on your warm skin brought a small thermal shock to both of them, his presence so close exuded a very strong negative energy, but at the same time transformed it into a pleasurable adrenaline and fear. His question made you quiet and also thoughtful:

“Did that leave you speechless, love?” he asked, speaking close to your ear while his hands rubbed your shoulders and squeezed them lightly, making him inhale deeply as he felt satisfied and relaxed at finally being able to feel you and satisfy his curiosity about what it was like to touch your soft skin.

“I don't know what to say... I can only say that we don't decide who we fall in love with, it's impossible to control the desires of the heart. And I can't undo that since it wasn't my spell, it was natural.”

“I confess I wanted you to undo that...” He explained as one of his hands left your shoulder and went to your waist, bringing you closer to him until your back and wings brushed against his chest. “It made me so weak, but I changed my mind when I realized how good this feeling was, but also how torturous... It's an almost addictive sensation, and so new.”

As he spoke close to your neck with the sensation of his lips almost touching your sensitive skin, your attention went to his hand, which was on your shoulder and slowly descending, tracing its way down your skin, to your elbow and arriving at your small and delicate hand. His long, slender fingers intertwined with yours, and the energy of that touch gave you a different sensation, of course there was no good energy coming from Pitch, but somehow you felt a warm, protective feeling, therefore of great danger and you felt the same anxiety.

Your gaze shifted from your entwined hands to his face, your heart softening as you saw the way he looked at you, revealing the deep burning desire in his eyes. For the first time you discovered that there was love in the eyes of the king of nightmares. But you were uncertain, he was your enemy, you couldn't trust the man who was as treacherous as a snake, and besides, what would your friends think of that? You snapped out of your thoughts when you heard a small laugh from him:

“I don't understand love, but there's something that leads me to believe that we were meant for each other. It's evident from the mere contact of our hands.” He spoke in a calm, enveloping voice as he lightly squeezed your waist and caressed your hand. That's when you pulled away and faced him, and he felt an emptiness at that.

“I can't.” You said thoughtfully and with a hint of sadness, this couldn't happen, you were a guardian and you were supposed to protect the children from the bogeyman. Unfortunately he was right, however wrong it was, it seemed certain that you were soul mates. That smile wouldn't leave his face.

“You're afraid of giving yourself to me, afraid of finding out what the other guardians will think, afraid of disappointing them.” The taller man approached you and grabbed your chin, lifting your face, forcing you to face him once more. “Am I right, my cupid?”

“But my goal is to destroy you.”

Holding your chin firmly, he moved even closer, and you stared into the deep golden eyes that were fixed on your lips. That man's ability to bewitch you and influence you to give in was remarkable, and it was practically impossible to resist after so many looks, touches and closeness... He was bewitching you like a snake that grabs its prey so cautiously to strike next:

“You already destroy me completely just by your presence... Don't you see that I'm totally at your mercy, darling? You have me in the palm of your hand.”

Cupid, which was you, felt almost as if you were being seduced into opening Pandora's box, about to unlock the doors to dangerous territory with no turning back. It was slowly turning into a game of pride and hesitation. Their faces were so close that you could feel them both breathing, a chill went through his stomach and he felt his cheeks start to heat up. Before you could say anything, you were surprised by his kiss on your red lips, breaking the distance and forcing you to give in to your hidden desires. Your eyes widened in surprise at the bogeyman's audacity, but you returned the kiss after closing your eyes.

While you were kissing with such fervor, Pitch slid his hand around your waist, drawing you close to him, joining your bodies, while his other hand went up to the back of your neck, gently pulling your hair. This made you moan involuntarily during the kiss, at which point he took the opportunity to explore your mouth with his tongue. Pitch held you so close to his body that he seemed to have waited years for this moment, he was desperate to feel you, your body, your lips and hear your sweet moans. You had never experienced a kiss like this, it was so needy, possessive and deep, you felt as if you were the only creature that mattered to him and his most valuable possession, and indeed, you were.

He interrupted the kiss, both of you panting, trying to catch your breath, you realized you were wrong that it was over when he started kissing your neck, distributing light bites and sucking on the sensitive, soft skin of the cupid, marking it like an animal marking territory. Your wings fluttered softly as you felt his cool fingers caressing them and his knee sliding between your legs, teasing you. Knowing he wanted to push the limits, you pushed him away from your neck, and your hands rested on his chest as your eyes met:

“That can't happen again...” He laughed when you said this and gradually let go of your arms and pulled away, feeling the flaming trail of your palm on his chest.

“Deny it all you want, I know you'll come back again and we'll have lots of dates like this, love.” The taller man removed the small lock of hair from your face. “You know where my hideout is, just visit me.”

That man knew very well how to manipulate someone, especially a creature as sentimental and romantic as you. He magically took your little bow and arrow from his back and handed it to you, and as soon as you took it you looked at him doubtfully:

“Until another day, my cupid.”

As he said this he snapped his fingers and suddenly you no longer felt the ground around your feet and you fell into that darkness, desperately trying to find a position to fly to, but as soon as you did you were teleported back to your temple, specifically into your bedroom and fell onto your bed. You were breathing heavily from the adrenaline and the unexpected fright, so you sat on the bed thinking about what had happened and running your hand through your hair.

Your enemy had just declared his feelings to you, given himself to you completely, and then kissed you and you gave in to that temptation. Taking a deep breath, you wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling empty for having stopped such bold caresses.

When you got out of bed, confused by your feelings, you wondered what your next meeting would be like, if it would be the same and if you should give in next time, or if there would be a next time. And as you looked in the mirror you also wondered how you were going to hide those marks on your neck from your guardian friends...

End...

[astrologydray]

When Your Moon Sign Matches Their Rising Sign: part 1

♈️♈️♈️♈️♈️♈️♈️♈️♈️♈️♈️♈️♈️♈️♈️♈️♈️♈️♈️♈️

Aries Moon + Aries Rising

♈️♈️♈️♈️♈️♈️♈️♈️♈️♈️♈️♈️♈️♈️♈️♈️♈️♈️♈️♈️

This connection is high-energy, fiery, and often volatile — but magnetic nonetheless. Aries Moon people feel their emotions with urgency: when they’re angry, it shows; when they’re in love, it’s intense. Pair that with someone whose Aries Rising naturally shows up as bold, competitive, and assertive, and you’ve got fireworks.

They mirror each other’s impulsiveness — emotionally and behaviorally — and while this can lead to passionate bonding, it can also cause frequent head-butting. There’s not a lot of emotional delay or subtlety in this match. What you see is what you get.

Synastry vibe: Quick to fall, quicker to fight, and possibly even quicker to forgive (if pride doesn’t get in the way). They often challenge each other to level up — emotionally and energetically.

Potential dynamic: You might find yourselves playing out arguments where both partners feel like they’re the one being misunderstood, because you’re emotionally raw (Moon) and reactive (Rising) in very similar ways. If both people lack emotional maturity, this can spiral into a competitive, ego-driven connection. But if handled with care? You’re both each other’s ride-or-die.

♈️♈️♈️♈️♈️♈️♈️♈️♈️♈️♈️♈️♈️♈️♈️♈️♈️♈️♈️♈️

Taurus Moon + Taurus Rising

♉️♉️♉️♉️♉️♉️♉️♉️♉️♉️♉️♉️♉️♉️♉️♉️♉️♉️♉️♉️

This connection is rooted in physical presence, loyalty, and consistency. A Taurus Moon person processes their emotions through comfort — food, touch, environment — and wants their inner world to feel peaceful and secure. A Taurus Rising comes off as composed, sensual, and grounded — they project the exact vibe that puts a Taurus Moon at ease.

This pairing thrives on routine, rituals, and deep trust. Even if things move slowly, they build something that lasts. Emotions are shown through actions: cooking for each other, massages, slow mornings in bed, running errands as a love language.

Synastry vibe: These two often experience emotional recognition instantly. The Moon person feels seen, while the Rising person feels instinctively accepted. It’s very “my home is your home” energy — even if you’ve just met.

Potential dynamic: This could become a beautifully slow-burn connection where you both feel more peaceful together than apart. You speak the same love language without needing to explain it.

If either of you resists change or growth, this match can stagnate. Both can get too comfortable or possessive.

♉️♉️♉️♉️♉️♉️♉️♉️♉️♉️♉️♉️♉️♉️♉️♉️♉️♉️♉️♉️

Gemini Moon + Gemini Rising

♊️♊️♊️♊️♊️♊️♊️♊️♊️♊️♊️♊️♊️♊️♊️♊️♊️♊️♊️♊️

This is a match made in chaotic, curious heaven. Gemini Moon needs mental stimulation to feel emotionally alive — boredom is death. Meanwhile, Gemini Rising comes off as witty, chatty, and restless. These two naturally feed off each other’s banter and curiosity. You might start talking and forget to sleep. Gemini Moons can be moody but mask it with humor, and Gemini Risings often perform emotions before processing them. Together, they make excellent travel partners, meme senders, and spontaneous decision-makers.

Synastry vibe: Endless conversation, matching humor, shared mental stimulation. You feel like you’ve known each other in every alternate timeline.

Potential dynamic: You may feel emotionally safe around them because their presence is light and clever, not overwhelming. You vent through conversation, and they mirror it back with similar words or gestures — almost like they’re reading your mind.

Emotional depth can be a challenge. There’s a risk of skating over big emotional truths because it feels easier to joke, deflect, or intellectualize.

♊️♊️♊️♊️♊️♊️♊️♊️♊️♊️♊️♊️♊️♊️♊️♊️♊️♊️♊️♊️

Cancer Moon + Cancer Rising

♋️♋️♋️♋️♋️♋️♋️♋️♋️♋️♋️♋️♋️♋️♋️♋️♋️♋️♋️♋️

This is a deeply emotional, spiritual, and soul-recognizing match. The Cancer Moon is highly sensitive, intuitive, and nurturing — they often feel like they carry the emotional temperature of the room. Cancer Rising appears warm, shy, motherly or protective, and even a bit guarded. But that’s the thing — you both see through each other instantly. The Moon person’s emotional rhythms match what the Rising person naturally presents to the world. You “just know” how to care for each other without speaking. There’s an undercurrent of safety, psychic connection, and softness.

Synastry vibe: Healing. You may cry together easily, or feel like childhood wounds are being re-opened and re-loved. You feel emotionally held just by being in their presence.

Potential dynamic: The Moon person feels emotionally cradled, while the Rising person feels understood and accepted for their gentle nature. There’s a quiet devotion that builds without needing dramatic displays.

If either person is still operating from emotional reactivity or unresolved family dynamics, this match can become codependent or smothering. But if there’s growth? It’s a soulmate frequency.

♋️♋️♋️♋️♋️♋️♋️♋️♋️♋️♋️♋️♋️♋️♋️♋️♋️♋️♋️♋️

[littlelightfish]

I've been thinking about Mickbell since last chapter came out.

Have you noticed how everyone refers to him as Mick? He's a hafling, they shouldn't call him that since its his first name.

But here's the thing.

We know Mickbell didn't have something to call a family the majority of his life. He was all alone against the word for quite some time. He, as I said before, didn't have a proper family, didn't have any friends. He was alone. No one to care about him, no one to love even in a friendly way.

He can seem to be quite unfair towards Kuro, but truth is he doesn't know any better. He does what he can the best he can, the best he knows, because he loves Kuro so much, he doesn't want to loose his first friend, his first glimpse of a family, the only one that cared for him after so long the first one to recognize him as someone rather than something.

Kuro doesn't understand common language well, we know for a fact that he struggles with it and that he's still learning to communicate. When Mickbell found him, it was his sense of "I'm in great debt to him because he saved me" what made him attack the one that attacked Mick. "How dares he tuch my savior?" Kind of behaviour. And also revenge I guess. But, hear me out. He hears Mickbell telling something to him in a language he doesn't understand, but he sticks to his side from then on, because he saw a savior in him. Because he feels in debt with him, because he sees that this guy enjoys his company and also feeds him. He is like a stray dog after being adopted, loyal. He loves and cares for Mickbell, he wants to be able to truly understand him and to make himself known to him by talking. He's learning how to speak common, not because it might be useful, but because he wants to be able to fully communicate with his dearest friend, with the one he considers family.

Going back to Mickbell, he saw someone caring for him enough to take revenge and protect him. This aren't little things to do for someone you just met. He knows this, because he probably wouldn't have done that, he 100% would've runned away because he has sense of self-preservation and knows damn well he doesn't stand a chance and he wants to continue living. He makes sure to keep this kobold to himself, at first because of his "if it can be made use of, then use it" principle.

He freed the kobold, not because he was a good person, but because he wanted to take revenge in his own terms. He wanted this man to suffer, he can't pick a fight because he doesn't stand a chance, so he steels his merch, or in this case, frees it. He freed Kuro because he wanted the man to suffer the loss of his merch. Not because he feels sorry for a kobold that could easily chomp his head off (they're usually agressive). Now, after freeing him, he noticed that this kobold would die if he didn't take off the thing he had in his mouth, so he helped him a bit there. This seems a bit out of character. Why did he freed the starved kobold from what could've saved him of being eaten himself? Because he is a good person. He doesn't want this creature to starve to death after freeing him, it would be cruel, and he isn't cruel. He doesn't want nothing to do with the kobold at first, he just doesnt want him to die because he didnt properly freed him, but after seeing how far is this someone willing to go for him? He has no room for doubt, he makes himself his boss.

As I said, Mickbell didn't had a real family before. He lacks of proper social interactions and bonds due to his past. But he loves so deeply. He doesn't want to loose Kuro. He sees him as the closest thing he'll ever have to a family, but he doesn't know how to treat him properly. He tries his best. He feeds him, and cares about him a lot, but he doesn't know how to talk to him. He wants to have him close at all times, he wants to pet him, to be carried around by him and only him, to tease him, to help him. He's always worrying about his well-being. And above all, he doesn't want to be alone. Never again. This is why he does everything he can think of to hold Kuro closer to him. This is why he's saving money, why he pays Kuro so poorly for his job. This is why he doesn't spent much money on himself either. He wants to live a life with kuro by his side because he loves him. He loves him deeply, and cares about him deeply too. He's his family. And he is terrified of the sole thought of Kuro leaving his side. Because that wouldn't just mean being alone again. It would mean Kuro left.

Now, this is what the party sees. A hafling that treats his kobold employee quite unfairly. He doesn't pay him almost anything, he leaves him alone as soon as battle starts, he is possessive about him, and he's terrified of someone snatching him away. The kobold doesn't seem to either mind or notice how unfair his owner is being towards him, and doesn't seem to understand him very well either. They see that they both care for each other more than they first thought as time passes by, but the unfairness of it all is still there. They don't get it. Why would the hafling, if he cares so much, reward him so badly? Why is he taking advantage of the kobold he loves so much? Why wouldn't he let him express himself in his mother language? They don't fully get it.

Time passes and they become closer to each other, just as Laios's party does. They start opening up, bonding, and before they knew it, they're something like a small family, rather than just a group of friends adventuring together. It's clear as day something in Mickbell wasn't quite right just by the way he behaves. He is childish, but it doesn't seem to be intentional. He behaves like a kid, but he is quite mature at the same time. He is like this because he didn't had a proper childhood? He only now can allow himself to behave lightly as he does? To cry at minor inconveniences? To want to be hold on someone's arms? They don't know, but they don't prey about it either.

And without realizing it, they call him just "Mick". Some of them, if not them all, know what it means to call a hafling by his first name. They maybe did it to tease him, maybe because they wanted him to know they consider him family, but he didn't even noticed. He hadn't a proper social interaction with haflings that ever got to the personal level of teaching him something he should already know. Haflings call him Mickbell, he doesn't mind, it's his name. His party calls him Mick, he doesn't mind, it's his name. He doesn't even know hee should care. The party picks up he doesn't mind being called that and gets surprised. Is he letting them know he sees them aa family too? They at first are really surprised, but it losses importance over time. They just use it as a nickname now, but they started using it because they wanted Mickbell to know they're family too, that they don't want to hurt him nor Kuro.

Mickbell it's just a good hearted guy who doesn't know how to do good. He saves up money so he can, one day, live with Kuro. So he doesn't pays him well even if he works hard. So he starves himself (he is underweight too, but it could be for the same reason Chilchuck is, he is 5 cms taller than the common hafling after all). So he allows himself to steal from corpses. He needs money. He has a dream. He wants to have a family.

[chezzywezzy]

Yandere L Lawliet (1/6)

WC: 3.7k

AN: I'll be alternating uploads between the one shots and the longer stories I have schemed :) enjoy <3 I love fulfilling my 12y/o me's fanfic dreams

L heard the people around him muttering at the entrance exam, but all he was focused on was the main suspect seated a few seats ahead of him. Light had noticed him, too. He was observant, just as Kira would have to be. But from his… abnormalities, that was hard to assess; judgement was being muttered about his strange posture, ‘lazy’ outfit, and bare feet. But as he bore into the back of his main Kira suspect, he hummed, his eyes flitting to the girl beside them.

She pulled her feet up on the chair the moment the entrance exam began. And she was also a foreigner by the way she behaved, yet the Japanese language did not seem to dwindle her confidence. Light was casting glances, too. But because the woman… was pretty, she did not receive ether same mumbling commentary that he had.

L was distracted yet at ease as he took in the details of the woman. She had a pink sweatshirt with her favorite Hello Kitty character and a colorful purple plaid skirt as well as an abundance of accessories. Even the pencil she had brought appeared to be merchandise.

L tore his gaze away in that instant. She may be outwardly strange, but she was irrelevant. The man sitting beside her was the goal. And thus, he had to spend the next few minutes completing the exam to get closer.

Yet, that woman… L almost harbored a kinship as she sped through the exam in a similar fashion to him.

L was not surprised as he loitered at the entrance of the test hall that, immediately following Light’s and L’s synchronous completion of the exam, that strange woman was next in line. She almost seemed to shrink from the audience that noticed in envy or admiration from not only her… appearance but speed. Light paid L no mind and waited up for the woman, which was unsurprising. She was quite pretty and —

L caught off his trail of thoughts, simply observing from a distance. His trail of logic was unhelpful in that moment.

The woman ran up to an equally energetic and outstanding woman who he immediately recognized as Misa-Misa, the infamous model and actress who ‘took tragedy and turned it into opportunity.’ A well-known and adored airhead. And this other woman… knew her.

“R! You finished so quickly!” Misa bounced and shrieked. They held one another’s hands and squealed together before calming down.

The women could not have been more different in style but more similar in personality. R wore a cutesy style even with a body covered in tattoos, and Misa was clean-swept of body alterations but wore gothic clothing. L felt… amused. And he could tell that Light was as well by their childish behavior as he tried to saunter up to them.

“I did it for you, my love! Everything I do is for you.”

The two made kissy faces at one another and L scrunched his nose in confusion. They were not gay… but he was socially stunted enough to be unfamiliar with this form of friendliness.

Misa suddenly froze and blinked at Light as he stopped in front of the two of them. Her eyes widened. But Light was glued to R, who was deeply confused. 

“You’re the guy who sat next to me in the exam. You must be super smart if you finished that quickly.”

L wanted to focus on his suspect fully, but could’t help but note that, even if R could speak Japanese with perfect colloquial language, she seemed to have some sort of stutter. Cute, he found himself thinking before remembering what he was watching for.

“Thanks, but you have to be, too. It’s not every day a girl is smart and pretty. And you are…?” Light redirected his attention to the woman who he knew was eyeing him with a surprising amount of attraction. Light knew he was attractive, but there was something far more crazed in her eyes.

She sent a momentarily pout to R who sighed and sent Light a glare.

“I’m Misa! Can I have your number? I… I’m in love with you, Light!”

L felt stricken with luck. Although the other two were jaw-dropped at it all, it was because the two recognized that Light had never introduced himself and vice versa. Light’s eyes fluttered around and he seemed to be connecting dots. 

Was Misa a stalker? L considered. Could she bet aware that he’s Kira? With her background… it would fit the bill that she would be a worshipper.

Light then became annoyed. “How do you know who I am? Did we used to go to school together? And you must be stupid because I was clearly asking out your friend with the brain.”

R’s shock went away as she suddenly became angry and clenched her fists. Misa appeared to be crest fallen yet dazed. L watched with a small smile as R punched the man in the chest and began shouting,” Are you stupid? Misa is literally perfect! She’s the prettiest girl on the planet and she may not be very smart but that doesn’t matter because she’s kind and caring and the best person in the entire world! You’re the stupid one if you can’t recognize that. I’d marry her on the spot if she wasn’t so boy crazy!”

R had been angry enough that the Japanese was somewhat broken. L noticed that Misa’s immediate jealousy and despair faded as R defended her. But when Misa went to take her shot again, R grabbed her arm and unwillingly dragged the woman away with her, ranting and raving about how she’d never been prone to violence until now.

L was amused as he observed how baffled Light Yagami - Kira - was from the interaction. It had aided in the case. Light clearly thought highly of himself, as Kira would. He was embarrassed. But as he smirked and muttered to himself, he also recognized that he was competitive and stubborn.

Everything that Kira was.

~~~

The Tu-Oh entrance ceremony.

L was not nervous by the hundreds of people in the center, but he did not enjoy it, either. It would take extra brain power to focus on the targets who sat right in front of him: Light Yagami and R.

He couldn’t stave off his curiosity and looked into the woman after first meeting. R was far more interesting than he expected: a professional fascination in death (pursuing a biochemistry degree to become a morgue director) and a personal motive (she was from another country escaping a violent stalker). However, she was not motivated by justice and did not seem to care about Kira, nor did she have the same flaws that Kira did. 

Regardless, at that moment, there were cameras being installed in her and Misa’s home. He was better off safe than sorry, he insisted to Watari. Especially with Misa in that household - who had harbored a clear interest in Light Yagami.

He was fascinated with how two two became friends, considering they had moved in together not even a few days after meeting when they met at a mall a few days after R had moved to Japan (before she had secured housing and was still acting like a tourist). They had a strangely codependent friendship - neither went anywhere without the other and R wasn’t particularly well-known except for small news channels from her country. But their personalities had meshed. He had observed their dynamic - almost like a married couple even if the two were not romantically involved (much to his relief). They’d ‘fallen in love’ to the degree in inspiration. Misa was rich from her successful career and covered all rent and utilities, although R wanted to split it evenly. R handled the housework begrudgingly to save Misa the money on a maid, which was apparently what compromise was.

They were strange people in the most adorable way.

R was wearing something more formal that day with her own personal twist. An ankle-length, colorful skirt and a well-fitting top with milder accessories. L knew that although she placed second and did not need to speak due to himself and Light claiming first, she still had to stand on that stage and accept the role of one of the freshman representatives.

Light had intended to sit next to her, but R was even so bold as to move to a different seat in the first row, which left L’s Kira quite dejected and embarrassed. The group’s part of the ceremony came and went. L could hardly tear his eyes away from R, which bothered him intensely. Not that Light’s script mattered to him much. 

He forgave himself for his inattentiveness with that excuse.

L observed everything about Light Yagami as he creeped into his ear and whispered his admittance to be L. Light was Kira - it was plain as day. But Light was a rather convincing actor when he wanted to be.

 His attention was suddenly ripped away. “She’s so pretty. She’d never look at a guy like you, asshole.”

“Yeah, but she would with you?”

“She’s probably nice so it would be charity work.”

L blinked.

“…work with you someday, if that’s true.”

L became angry as he realized his attention had been stolen by the men behind him. What they said were true. But why did he care? 

Light was baffled when L suddenly seemed lost in thought, curling his back further and pressing his thumb to his lips. L was no longer paying attention to him. And that pissed him off. So why introduce himself if he was going to zone out?

His line of sight followed to realize he was looking to the side and his gaze was glued to R’s back. Huh. If this strange man really was a L, then perhaps R would be an asset to him after all.

L trailed behind the group somewhat. Of course, several people had decided to  group around and meet the representatives who were charming and intelligent. Humans were rather judgmental creatures, L knew. So people paid him no mind other than to send him strange glances or whisper. 

“…I’m sorry if was off-putting when we first met, R. But I’d like for us to be friends,” Light boldly claimed in front of them all, although attention was quickly redirected toward the cafeteria. 

R smiled awkwardly, not seeming to know how to respond. She was antisocial despite her outgoing appearance, L noted. “Um, sure, Light.”

“I mean, I’m not as bad as that Ryuga fellow, huh? He seems strange and unhygienic. Have you seen how he sits and dresses?” 

By then, Light felt more liberated as those interested in talking to the pair had left as they walked toward the campus entrance. L knew that Light had made that pointed comment with the knowledge he was trailing not too far behind. R stopped and blinked, showing how irked yet uncomfortable she felt by his comment.

“You’re rather judgmental,” R sighed. “You don’t know him at all. Have you even spoken to him? He’s clearly very smart. I mean, maybe it’s something… what’s the word… sensory or overstimulated. Don’t be so close-minded. You’r not a nice person, Light. You think too well of yourself.”

Light clenched and unclenched his fists before clearly thinking about apologizing and groveling. Even if he didn’t have much time for romance, R seemed smart, capable, and was quite attractive. He didn’t mind a challenge. He was being too much of… himself at the start.

“I’m sorry —“

By then, L had decided to close distance and approach the pair. R took a second to notice, having briefly replied to some texts on her phone. L felt almost stunned by how… pretty her eyes were when she made eye contact.

“Hello to the both of you. I figured as representatives, we should get to know each other,” L mumbled with a mild tone. His hands were shoved into his pocket and he was suddenly aware of how bad his posture must have looked. And the darkness under his eyes must have been repulsive.

“Hello, Ryuga. It’s nice to meet you,” R greeted and beamed. “You must be quite intelligent. Are you also a foreigner? What is your background?”

L glanced at Light. The man was seething. Apparently, he did not like to lose. L replied before Light could also greet him, sending a shy smile her way. “Yes. I come from England. Do you have a [origin] accent?”

R’s smile only widened and nodded vigorously. “Yes! But for someone from England, you do not have an accent.”

“Yeah, why not?” Light asked, desperately trying to prevent from fading into the background.

“I have spent my life traveling. Does this mean we can talk with English, if Light is also proficient?”

“Of course. But anyway, it was nice to meet you, although I have to run. My favorite cafe usually runs out of my favorite before noon.”

R vowed slightly, clasping her hands together at her stomach. 

“May I join? I man trying to become more acquainted with the area,” L asked, catching them both off guard.

Light was furious while R had stars and excitement in her eyes. “Yes! I was planning to read, but perhaps making a friend would be better. You seem like fun, especially since I’m not the type of asshole who makes snap judgements. Good-bye, Light.”

Neither men could register as R grabbed L’s wrist and tugged him toward the direction of the entrance. L couldn’t help it as a flush spread across his neck, wide-eyed. Light was stunned and had a hand reached out to the pair. L sent a curt wave.

Kira was competitive and hated losing. But so did L. They had that in common.

A few minutes later, L was pulled into the cafe. He wanted to pay for her treat as well, but was so caught up in wondering if that was a strange thing to do that he missed his opportunity. He had entered territory that he was unfamiliar with: women.

They sat in a back booth with some privacy. R seemed to enjoy introversion, L noticed. And as they sat waiting for their food in silence, he couldn’t help but take note of the small things about her: how she was constantly playing with her lanyard with a character he was unfamiliar with on it; how she twirled her hair that was in reach; how she readjusted in her seat several times and tapped her foot underneath the table; and when she wasn’t doing any of this, she was squeezing her skirt in between her hands. But she did not seem anxious or nervous. If anything, she seemed excited and happy. He’d never met anyone that showed their pent up energy so easily.

It made him have a sense of bizarre nervousness. He tried to ignore it, but he couldn’t help but recognize something about R made him act and feels foreign things.

Their drinks arrived, and that’s when R broke into gleeful chatter. “What are you studying, Ryuga? I’m studying biochemistry so I can become a morgue director!”

He already knew this, but felt surprised nonetheless. She was not Kira. Kira would not admit that so frivolously. He played with his food and rubbed his chin. L felt strange whenever they made eye contact, so he intended to avoid it. Even if he was sitting the same s always, legs tucked to his chest, he was suddenly so aware of it and had to resist the idea off relinquishing his additional brain power for normality.

“I am studying to become a detective,” he stated. “I have a strong sense of justice.”

R huffed. “I guess that means we won’t have many shared classes. But I’m sure you’d make a great detective, Ryuga —“

“What about you? Do you have a strong sense of justice? What is it you’re looking for in life?”

He had caught R off guard with how intense his questions felt and she seemed to blush in embarrassment. “Admittedly, I don’t care too much about that stuff. I feel that when people have jobs like that, it can be very depressing. I know I work with dead bodies, but to me, death is a part of life. It is something to be celebrated and respected rather than feared. It’s a reminder to live life to the fullest. Realistically, that job is always required while I’ll also be helping people in need.”

L was taken aback. The woman seemed to enjoy appearing as an airhead or not too thoughtful on the outside, but upon opening up, he heard a reason full of love, passion, and logic. He smiled  a little, daring to make eye contact briefly before eating some of the cake he ordered.

“What about you —“

“And what else do you want from life, R? Why did you come all the way to Japan?”

R was clearly confused by her inability to get to know L better. Perhaps it was silly, but he wanted her to be left wanting to a degree and not only for the sake of maintaining his identity. It must have felt like an interrogation to her.

“I feel like I want the same as any other person. To live a fulfilling life, even if I don’t know what that means yet, and to be loved. I came to Japan for a rather silly reason, actually - I had a rather violent stalker so I moved for the safety of myself and my loved ones. Japan seemed like a great country career-wise and culture wise. Although I actually heard a few weeks ago that Kira killed my stalker, ha! I mean, what is the chance of that? So my family and friends begged me to come back, but… I just adore life here! My roommate, Misa, is so wonderful and everyone is so kind and friendly here!”

L knew this information. But for her to once again admit something so suspicious as a motive once again reminded him how the woman in front of him was in fact not Kira, and thus, irrelevant. So why was he still here?

He was certain she would somehow be an asset to the case. But he couldn’t even specify how so.

“Yes. Japan has quite a strange death rate ratio to the birth rate,” L hummed.

R smiled and took the chance to finally know more about him. This made L feel rather fuzzy in his chest. “So what about you? Do you have any dreams?”

“Only to make this world a better place.”

“Nothing more specific than that? Not a dream house, dream wedding, dream retirement age?”

“I have not thought that far ahead.”

R was taken aback. To her, Ryuga felt honest and as though he was not hiding anything from those answers specifically. But still, she almost felt bad for asking. “May I ask where you have been able to travel to? Where was you’re favorite place?”

“Travel was more so a given from work rather than pleasure, sod I have not enjoyed my traveling much in the sense that you are asking.” L had finished his snack and felt a sense of embarrassment. She must have thought I am strange by now, he thought. He had better things to be doing, yet he stayed in his seat. “I believe I should get going. Would you like me to walk you home? Japan is a nice country, but you can never be too safe. There are many strange men.”

L was appalled as the words involuntarily fell from his mouth. R also seemed surprised and smiled coyly. “Like you?” She added a pause for effect as L flinched. “I’m just kidding! You seem kind, Ryuga. Yes. I would like that.”

R had a much more subdued personality than what she displayed with her roommate. It made L wonder if he could reach that level of familiarity —

L stopped his train of thought and schemed more about Light Yagami, deciding to do something more relevant and useful. So, as they exited, he asked about her roommate.

“Your roommate. What is she like?” L inquired, hands clammy in his pocket. 

He stared intently at her with an intensity that seemed to embarrass R.

“Well, I hope you won’t gossip, but she’s incredible! Actually, she is Misa-Misa, model and actress. We met in a mall while we were fighting for the new release of a character figurine we both love from Sailor Moon. We fell in love with each other and she wanted to become roommates! She’s the nicest person I think I’ve ever met and we never run out of things to talk about —“

“Is she the one who’s parents were killed during a home invasion?”

R gulped and fiddled with her hands. “Well… yes. I guess someone like you who wants to become a detective would know her for that instead. It’s a sensitive subject, though, so I’d rather not talk about that.”

L felt almost guilty for his prying. He gulped and nodded. “…Yes. I apologize.”

The mood felt a little more strained after that, but L knew R was trying to move past that. It was more as though her own personal sadness for her roommate dampened the mood rather than holding it against him. It was admirable how much she cared. He asked about hobbies instead and that had R talking the whole way home as L only asked further about the various fandoms and niche activities and collections she accrued. She almost reminded him of his predecessor who also had a fondness for childish shows and toys.

R suddenly interrupted herself and blinked, turning back. “Oh! I’m sorry. I walked right past my house. It’s rather humble for an idol, don’t you think?” she beamed proudly. “I’m glad since she doesn’t let me cover any household expenses.”

“That’s quite lucky.”

As R opened and closed the gate, bidding L a final good-bye, the front door opened and Misa emerged, squealing in joy. R immediately matched the energy and L couldn’t help but be fascinated. They greeted one another with such enthusiasm each moment. Having a friend like that must be nice.

L headed off before he could become further entranced with their interactions.

[calits-now-ontheside]

Analysis of the EGO Pink Shoes – Hong Lu – Between Loss of Will and Manifestation of Desire

It's been a while since I wanted to analyse all the EGOs of Hong Lu and I finaly found some time while not being able to draw. I know it has already been done numerous time and I may or may not bring anything new but it is always so fun to analyse all these little details.

So let's start with Roseate Desire:

Roseate Desire is the name of the E.G.O linked to the Abnormality Pink Shoes, which is also related to the Abnormality Red Shoes.

Shared with: Ishmael

Cost: 4 Lust and 2 Envy

I’d like to begin this analysis by quoting a sentence from @sunshades from their analysis of Ishmaël that perfectly encapsulates the intention behind this EGO and immediately reveals the themes running through it:

“It’s more about a loss of your free will and being controlled by an external force.”

Summary:

Origin of the EGO: Pink Shoes and Red Shoes

Pink Shoes: A Parasitic Abnormality

Hong Lu: Between Puppet and Puppeteer

What if Hong Lu wanted to be in control?

Lust & Envy: Revealing Sins

I/ Origin of the EGO: Pink Shoes and Red Shoes

This EGO is drawn from an abnormality derived from Red Shoes, known for amplifying the desires and obsessions of those who wear them. It is therefore relevant to start by analyzing Red Shoes and Pink Shoes together in order to better understand how they function.

These two abnormalities share a central theme: control through desire. They possess the power to enslave the individual through their own cravings.

One of the first visible signs of this control manifests through a pinkish glow in the host’s eyes.

In Lobotomy Corporation, this glow in the eyes of Red Shoes’ hosts indicates that the individual is about to confess their deepest desires to the abnormality.

In Pink Shoes, this glow seems permanent. This could indicate that the desire here is more constant, diffuse, less sudden but more invasive.

Why this difference? Perhaps because lust and desire are more similar in their slow consumption than aggressiveness, which erupts with force.

Indeed, Red Shoes manifests desire through aggressiveness, while Pink Shoes manifests it through lust — if we look at their Sin Affinity. (Have to thanks @firestorm09890's post for helpin me seeing clearer on the subject)

Thus, even if both abnormalities play on desire, they express it in different ways:

Red Shoes = Desire → Violence

Pink Shoes = Desire → Seduction, pleasure, subjugation

A telling example is the employee from Lobotomy Corp who, frustrated by unrequited love, becomes violent under the influence of Red Shoes. Here, even though the base theme is love, it’s the expression of desire through anger that is central, because that’s the nature of Red Shoes.

Conversely, with Pink Shoes, it is through almost sensual and suggestive visual elements (ribbons, poses, implicit BDSM codes) and through a feeling of pleasure that desires are manifested, as seen with Hong Lu and Ishmael.

II/ Pink Shoes: A Parasitic Abnormality

1rst Quick Thought: For me—and for many others, if not everyone—E.G.O and Sinners must share a certain kind of resonance. The Sinner (often unconsciously, I think) recognizes a part of themselves in the Abnormality, and the Abnormality, in turn, reflects that part back. It’s this shared element that enables the manifestation of the E.G.O and allows a bond to form between them. However, that shared aspect doesn't have to be the same for every Sinner. After all, an Abnormality can embody multiple themes or ideas simultaneously.

2nd Quick Thought: Still from my point of view, the initial (non-overclocked) use of an Abnormality E.G.O is more closely tied to the Sinner. At that stage, the Abnormality is still held in check, and its history or consciousness doesn’t yet deeply influence the Sinner’s psyche and behaviour. The lines spoken and the visual elements (sprites, etc.) in this phase seem to be more reflective of the Sinner’s own self rather than of the Abnormality

3rd Quick Note: In contrast, the overclocked state clearly allows the Abnormality to exert more influence—taking up more mental and symbolic space within the Sinner. Its psyche begins to seep into the Sinner, even if it remains loosely aligned with their theme or the shared connection between them. That’s why I’m a bit hesitant to interpret overclocked E.G.O lines as being direct expressions of a Sinner’s personal thoughts. To me, these moments are more about the Abnormality expressing itself through the Sinner’s identity, or more precisely, through that shared facet between them.

Last Quick Thought: That being said, even if it’s mostly the Abnormality speaking in this state, the themes or ideas being voiced and in some cases their sprites are still worth paying attention to when analyzing a Sinner—because that idea might be exactly what enabled their bond to form in the first place.

However, for this particular E.G.O, you’ll see that the corrosion may actually be more closely linked to the Sinner than usual.

Now let’s focus on Pink Shoes alone.

With this EGO, the two characters who embody it express variations of the same theme:

Hong Lu: lack of control, loss of free will

Ishmael: obsessive desire, absolute control of desire over will

What is interesting is that the employes reanimated by Pink shoes -- Pink Shoes Enchantee and Pink Shoes Possesse -- seems to represent the 2 aspects of Pink Shoes -- being possessed and being enchanted. And it seems that this is the same thing for Ishmael, representing the enchanting side and Hong Lu representing the possessing side of the abnormality.

Another notable fact: Pink Shoes seems to be the only EGO whose corroded form is represented in its main art. This could indicate that it's worth focusing more on that form than on the base one. Observing the corroded forms of Hong Lu and Ishmael, we note:

The corrosion from Pink Shoes is less violent and “encompassing” than that of other abnormalities. Even Red Shoes expresses its personality more than Pink Shoes does.

It is more intimate, more personal — it doesn’t manifest the will of the abnormality, but that of the host’s desire. What corrodes the host is their desire pushed to the extreme and how it manages to take control.

I would say that in a way, Pink Shoes is not an autonomous, conscious, or imperious abnormality. It acts like a parasite that lives and spreads through the desires of the host. It has no will of its own beyond its instinct to spread, like mold or a fungus. Pink Shoes has only one desire — that of spreading itself and its ribbons through others’ desires.

Thus, corrosion here can be interpreted as the external manifestation of a deeply repressed inner desire, taking control of its host.

Is the corrosion the host’s extreme desire possessing them?

The image of the pink ribbon invading the host’s body is central. It evokes both:

Constraint (bindings, bondage)

Manipulation (puppet strings)

And this idea of the puppet is especially predominant with Hong Lu, more than with Ishmael.

III/ Hong Lu: Between Puppet and Puppeteer

Hong Lu, in his idle sprite, stands like a limp puppet, hanging and waiting to be set in motion. The ribbons trail on the ground, like strings ready to be pulled.

All of this suggests a person being manipulated to satisfy others’ desires.

Even the EGO art shows Hong Lu suspended, vulnerable, dependent on the ribbon — and therefore on an external will.

But what’s even more striking: in his corroded form, his mouth is covered by a pink ribbon.

This means he doesn’t even have the right to speak, not even to express a personal desire. He is instrumentalized, stripped of any personal will.

With Ishmael, it’s the eye that is covered. She can only see her obsessive desire, represented by Pink Shoes.

Her will for vengeance is strong — but ends up consumed by the pleasure and desire distilled by Pink Shoes. She then becomes the agent of propagation for this abnormality, bound to its ribbons, as we see in her corroded form, where she now speaks of charming and wrapping up. Which is Pink Shoes’ primary desire.

Whereas, Hong Lu's desire expressed in its corroded version (so its strongest version) has taking over his mouth so by preventing him from expressing himself and by instrumentalizing him and reducing him to nothing more than a puppet to be manipulated.

And yes, the theme of being others' puppent, deprived of self is a main theme for Hong Lu.

But is that really all there is to it?

IV/ What if Hong Lu wanted to be in control?

One intriguing detail: his weapon is not his usual one. Here, he wears two pairs of gloves. Why, when Ishmael has kept the same weapon shape?

If we follow the puppet theme… gloves are hands that manipulate. What if these gloves were the expression of a deep and unconscious desire from Hong Lu?

What if, despite his apparent passivity in the face of his lack of autonomy, his true desire was to be in control (of himself) — even if that means controlling what controls him?

He would then become the puppeteer of his own puppet. A disturbing mise en abyme:

Unable to see himself as the one in control of his choices, he is forced to separate his desire and place it as his own puppeteer in order to make decisions for himself. Hong Lu cannot act without being someone’s puppet / being told what to do — and even if his desire is to be in control, he can only do so by being his own puppeteer.

Hong Lu is manipulated by Pink Shoes but uses the gloves to manipulate in turn. Pink Shoes makes Hong Lu into the puppeteer, becoming the puppeteer of his own body — a tragic paradox between submission and illusory control.

Maybe we can even link this idea to this diaologue:

What reinforces this idea is that during his corrosion attack, threads appear, connected to Hong Lu at his various joints. These threads pull Hong Lu’s target… but he himself remains pulled by Pink Shoes. He is both author and tool, master and slave.

And even in his non-corroded state, Hong Lu already speaks of “Tie you just enough,” which for me can have two meanings:

Hong Lu, even by giving himself the role of puppeteer of his own body, is still not truly in control since he is already following someone else’s will — that of Pink Shoes, whose will is to bind people with her ribbons. After all, his regular and corroded attack animations are very similar, which might suggest that from the beginning, when desire is involved, Hong Lu is unable to manifest one stronger than the desire to fulfill others’ wishes.

As it has always been the case for him, Hong Lu controls and manipulates by applying just enough pressure / constraint for it to seem natural. This control is just enough to feel normal, but also not enough to be questioned. Maybe that's supposed to be a hint to the way Hong Lu is controlled.

V/ Lust & Envy: Revealing Sins

Lastly, a quick note on the Sins required to activate the Pink Shoes EGOs, which are revealing:

Hong Lu: Lust & Envy

Ishmael: Lust & Wrath

Lust is shared by both Ishmael and Hong Lu, which makes sense since that is how desires manifest through Pink Shoes.

Indeed in this case, lust is, I think, only referring to Pink Shoes' will to spread and that can be confirmed by Hohenheim's definition of the sins:

"The meaning of Peccatulum Luxuriae, 'Lust', is not exactly what it says on the tin. A more illustrative description would say that it is... ah, yes. An obsession to spread a fragment of what forms the self."

Since Pink Shoes manifest through lust, I don't think that in this case it refers to the sinners. The abnormality clearly want to spread a fragment (the ribbons) of what form its self (the shoes).

So, that being say we have to look at the other sin, that is from where the deep desire is taken from and from which the shoes are goind to feed themselves and implify.

Where Hong Lu requires Envy, Ishmael requires Wrath.

Because Ishmael’s deep desire — her desire for vengeance — was born from her anger and her will to destroy Ahab.

But why Envy for Hong Lu? Two possible explanations in my view:

Because his desire was born from others’ envy to control his life

Or because deep down — and I like to believe this — even if it’s repressed and unconscious, one of Hong Lu’s deepest desires is to be in control, even of himself. Dare I even say he envies Pink Shoes for being able to control him? Maybe it’s an extrapolation, and yet I wonder — why not?

Perhaps it’s an extrapolation. Or perhaps not. After all, isn’t it one of the most human things: to desire that which dominates us, just so we no longer feel lost?

Unfortunately, I didn't really dwell on Hong Lu's eye during this post because I thinkt it will be more interesting to do a post about everytime the jade was active, but that will be for another time!

[myun-saidthoughts]

12th House Synastry: The Darker Themes That May Manifest

I made a post about Neptune and 12th house synastry awhile ago (here is the link to that: Understanding 12th house synastry)

In that post, I explained how this synastry can manifest between partners, but I didn't discuss the darker side of it or discuss why those darker themes are present in the first place.

To start off, some of the more common dark themes associated with this synastry include deception, lies, addiction, and hidden agendas. This synastry also can indicate being the other woman in a relationship or one party may have a commitment to another person that the other party isn't aware of (such as one partner is married, engaged, or involved with someone else). If there is 8th house synastry involved (like Pluto aspecting inner planets or 8th house overlays), power dynamics may emerge, with one person holding an authoritative position. Age gaps or factors such as work hierarchies, status, reputation, social circles, or cultural influences may also prevent the two parties from publicly showcasing their relationship.

The reason these dark themes manifest is influenced by many factors, the primary one being the person's core nature. If they are spiritually awakened, aware, compassionate, or empathetic, the themes mentioned above are less likely to arise within the connection. Ultimately, who a person is at their core will dictate how these connections manifest.

I have read many 12th house/Neptune synastry stories, and one major red flag that stands out is what is often 'hidden' within the relationship. While this synastry can evoke profound, otherworldly feelings, there’s a risk that the person you’re pouring your love into may only be a projection of your perception of them. This is tied to how you view yourself, your understanding of love, and your willingness to be vulnerable.

This synastry naturally clouds and confuses the relationship dynamic, if you have natal 12th house placements, Pisces placements or Neptune aspecting your own inner planets then the influence of falling into the web of what you think is, instead of what actually is; is more likely.

For example, the reason you may be drawn to, influenced by, or dealing with these dark themes has to do with the level of commitment or love you're ready to process. You may consciously state that you desire a deep love, but if you look at your past patterns, you might notice that you often fall for the people you claim you want to stay away from. You may say, 'I deserve better,' or recognize that the type of love you're offering is not being reciprocated. While you may be consciously aware of this, you still find yourself in connections that reinforce the image of love you say you want to change.

This has to do with the fact that there are still subconscious self beliefs that are operating within you; these beliefs may be so deeply rooted in your subconscious to the point where you are not even aware of it, and the reason why these dark themes are able to manifest within your life is because the people you are choosing are reiterating the self belief you're "comfortable" with. I say comfortable because it's what feels known within you, this person creates a feeling within you and though they may logically be wrong for you in so many objective manners, the fact that you can feel drawn towards them is what is causing you to want them, especially if you struggle with emotional vulnerability, or if you find it hard to actually form feelings towards another. This person is (in essence) allowing you to form feelings because their presence/actions reaffirm the same self beliefs you've been dealing with throughout your life.

This type of synastry even becomes more nuanced when the 8th house is involved, oftentimes if you are not aware of your own self inner wounds this type or interplay can cause such chaos. This is especially true if you are choosing someone who wants to use you, or if they have their own inner battles that they ignore. In essence to stay aware of the connection at hand:

Look at them at face value instead at the value that you give them.

Stay aware and acknowledge the fact that their own actions and choices act as a true unit that showcases their true feelings towards you.

Understand that even though you're able to understand or empathize with their struggles doesn't mean you should justify their actions.

The feeling you feel with them is already sitting within you; if that wasn't the case you wouldn't be drawn to them in the first place. Therefore that scarce mindset where you may feel like you need them to allow romance in is only a facade that keeps you at a distance of receiving reciprocal love.

This again is an extreme case but I wanted to make a note.

Another thing I want to note is that with this synastry, you might feel an intense draw toward the other person, as if you’ve known them in a past life (because how could someone create such deep longing within you if that wasn't the case?) This might create the connection to be very thought-provoking, and the longing you experience can manifest instantly in moments when you're not with them; this might lead you to believe that you share a deep, once-in-a-lifetime connection. However, the person you are drawn to may actually be a projection of your own desires for emotional fulfillment, especially if they are an objectively lost soul struggling with personal battles such as addiction or ongoing affairs.

The reason why individuals often state that 12th house and Neptune synastry can indicate past life connections is that this type of synastry evokes similar feelings of longing, wishes, and desires. In my experience with both, I understand why people associate Neptune/12th house synastry with past life connections. However, this synastry often creates a sense of longing while leaving more questions than answers.

With past life connections, you may instantly feel a deep longing for someone you’ve just met—their eyes seem familiar, and their touch feels sacred. In contrast, when Neptune and the 12th house are involved, there’s a crucial difference. Instead of a sense of certainty, there’s more wondering, thinking, analyzing, and fixating. You might convince yourself that you know them by creating intense, otherworldly feelings within you.

In genuine past life connections, there’s an unexplainable, intuitive sense that you’ve met before, without needing proof or logical understanding. You feel deeply connected without questioning it. This is a key difference that more people should recognize. If there are more questions than an immediate intuitive knowing, the likelihood of it being a past life connection is much less.

In summary, the main difference with Neptune/12th house synastry vs past life connections is there's a "without a doubt" mentality that you've known them before. The main reason why theres an association with 12th house synastry and past life connections is because this synastry genuinely mimics the same deep rooted feeling of longing or what if scenario's. This synastry causes you to create feelings within where it'll feel like you two have been together before but that doesn't mean these feelings are rooted in the deep seated knowing of "I've met you before" like true past life connections are like.

(which is why it's very difficult to differentiate and I can understand why but within, you will have moments with them and if out of no where you say "this has happened before" or "it's so easy with you" or if 5 hours feel like 10 minutes, then the chances of them being a part of your past life is more likely; and you can feel this way without even having any intense 12th house synastry with them, you don't have to have 12th house synastry with someone to showcase a past life connection).

That said, there can be times when you may be dealing with 12th house or Neptune synastry and you may consider yourself an open or healthy lover, yet still encounter these themes. You might fall for someone who isn't who they appear to be. Stories like 'We have been dating for two years, and he is an addict' or 'I am engaged, but he has another wife' illustrate this. These examples are extreme, but I believe can occur because this synastry can cloud judgment. That's why it's important to evaluate the relationship at its core rather than relying solely on your perceptions.

If you find yourself dealing with these themes or have dealt with them in the past, it's important to recognize that the other partner may not have any real love for you. This is why the 12th house is often associated with 'hidden enemies.' These individuals may not be hiding their true selves, but in your perception, the person they actually are is someone you haven't been able to see. Or in another sense this individual just held and hid parts of them from you, and because of how clouded this synastry can be, falling victim towards these connections is more likely (but like I always say entire natal charts and who the person is at their core dictates the severity of what can occur within these connections).

Another intriguing pattern in this synastry is the tendency to be drawn to darker themes, often finding yourself attracted to someone who seems in need of saving or fixing. The spiritual connection you feel may arise from a deep longing to help them, as their internal struggles compel you to give endlessly. Their internal struggles causes you to give and give which ultimately keeps you at arms distance within the connection. Especially since they can't formally give you the same love you are giving them, and this stems from the fact a part of you doesn't believe you deserve the type of love you fantasize or long for. That being said, the dreams you have about them or with them, and the coincidences that keep occurring could very well be reflections of the emotional fulfillment you desire, and doesn't paint the fact that you two are "meant to be"

This pattern can also be linked to unrequited love. When this occurs, it mirrors what I’ve mentioned before: you find yourself falling for someone you can't truly have. You become infatuated with the person you imagine them to be, rather than who they actually are. You create scenarios in your mind where you’re together, longing for a connection that has never existed. All of these patterns stem from a fear of embracing reciprocal love.

It feels easier to desire someone rather than have them; it's more comfortable to long for the idea of a partner than to actively choose someone who can choose you in return. Such dynamics are more prevalent when you struggle with emotional closeness and vulnerability. Selecting someone whom you subconsciously know won’t or can’t choose you can feel like a safer option.

I explore this concept further in my original 12th house synastry post, so feel free to check that out for more insights.

The main point of this post is to remain aware of your own wounds, self-undoing patterns, and emotional fears regarding romance. The self-giving nature you choose to engage in can create a block to receiving the kind of love you’re capable of giving to others, often stemming from a fear of being in a reciprocal loving relationship. If you stay aware and offer yourself inner healing then the chances of falling in relationships where these dark themes can occur is less likely.

Note: I believe that if you have strong Pisces placements, 12th house natal placements, or Neptune aspecting your inner planets, as well as a broken attachment style or a tumultuous relationship with your mother, you may be more susceptible to experiencing these dark themes in your reality. If you fear love yet simultaneously long for it, these factors can be significant indicators. Conversely, if you do not have these characteristics, the intensity of such themes is less likely.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hello Ravenmod!! Hope recovery's going well.

Coral Sea event is finally here !!! I saw this tweet and immediately thought about... Miss Raven and Jade 🥺💙 (also: Mama Leech...!?!?! ma'am how do you feel about... crows / ravens... for no particular reason...)

https://x.com/aitaikimochi/status/1914586828377923868?t=re4JjAzrfkX8LCEozNw41g&s=19

And that got me thinking... Since Raven is such a fairytale enthusiast — how would her ideal wedding be like?

Hello, hello! I think I'm doing well now; I'm at least comfortable enough to return the pinned post from the health update back to the usual one. I seriously think all my excitement for the Eternity Float event sped up my recovery... I gained so much energy when I first saw the April 2025 JP schedule. Literally was counting down the days until it arrived!

adihbqeryow35r13ri7adfiyvVFEGP Miss Raven meeting one of Jade's parents 💀 Upon hearing that Jade will be introducing her to his mother, she'd immediately be suspicious (knowing what kind of people Jade and his twin brother are; the woman that raised these menaces must be a menace herself). But then all those thoughts go right out the window when Raven meets Georgina face-to-face. You'd think Raven would be freaked out by how tall Mrs. Leech is or how she's dressed to kill in all that black... but no, Raven's actually in complete and total awe of this woman. To her, Georgina Leech is like THE "ideal lady" she's been striving to become herself. So beautiful, so polite, so elegant, so intelligent, so charming!! Is she even a real person?! As for Georgina, I think she'd be entertained by a creature of the sky expressing such a vested interest in the sea. Maybe she'll tease a bit, poke and prod to see how this bird gets along with her son. It's like a little initiation test to see how Raven fares www

"My mother, Georgina Leech. Mother, this is Raven Crowley, our headmaster's ward."

Raven can barely process whatever words are leaving Jade's mouth. He could be spewing utter poison, the vilest insults known to mankind, and still her senses glazed over. Before this radiant lady, they are all but tiny moons orbiting a far grander planet, pulled further and further in by an unexplained magnetism. Raven robotically sticks out a hand and blurts out, "I-It's a pleasure to meet your acquaintance, ma'am!" It's said in a pathetic squeak, and she fears her muscles are limp as Georgina seizes her outstretched hand.

"Oh, there's no need to be shy, dear," she coos, slick as seaweed. "I'm already quite familiar with you." "Y-You are?" "I've heard so many stories about you from Jade." Georgina's lips--painted a shade so deep it borders on black--peel back into an amicable smile. "Ufufufu. He tells me you are ever so amusing. A raven that longs to experience the sea... such an oddity! I do hope that I will be able to help you recognize that dream of yours here in Ultramarine City. Don't be a stranger. I will be here to answer any and all inquiries you may have."

"O-Oh... okay, I'll take you up on that offer, ma'am!" Raven stutters, bowing her head deeply in appreciation.

ashdbasdgvadaWQEGGQWO314ii1 Funnily enough, while Miss Raven is a fairy tale enthusiast + romantic and often fantasizes about the "what ifs", she hasn't thought much about her own ideal wedding. It's mostly because she doesn't know if she'll be able to find that coveted "true love" they speak of in storybooks, and also because most of the guys she's surrounded with aren't... the most upstanding individuals 😂 If you asked her directly, Raven might just claim she'd "just sign legal documentation and have it be over with as soon as possible" or say that she "doesn't dream of such silly things"! ... The reality is, I think she'd want to talk it over with a potential life partner and come to a mutual agreement on how their wedding should be. Mated birds will usually work together to build a nest, so translating that over to her new life as a girl... Miss Raven wants to cooperate to "build a nest" (make a wedding, home, life, etc.) together. Errrrrrrrrrrrr 💦 yeah, good luck getting any NRC guy to agree to that???/j

[alexanderlightweight]

Hello hello and happy Wednesday!! I’m so glad you’re back T.T could I mayhaps have more of “a stolen heart” that you started last week? If you aren’t feeling that one then omega/omega Malec is also on my brain! Thank you for your hard work!

happy Wednesday! thank you, i'm very happy to be back <3

here is some more of it, I actually am enjoying this verse quite a bit so I was definitely feeling it! I got the second ask about it being either nsfw/sfw so thank you!

Lumine

a stolen heart

-

“Overlapping rituals—” 

“-a trap - Magnus—”

“ — bloodloss.”

Nothing makes any sense but the mention of Magnus’ name and the lure of his voice.  It’s a siren call to Alec’s fog-ridden brain, the reminder that if he wakes, Magnus will be there.

Despite his body's desperate need for rest, Alec still struggles to fight through the dregs of unconsciousness. Pain pulls a whine from him despite his best efforts and the heavy weight of his eyelids feels almost impossible to lift.  

It’s worth it though. 

Or it will be, once Alec sees Magnus again. 

—

“He’s not supposed to be waking up yet.” Catarina’s voice is calm, soothing even yet her tone does nothing to ease Magnus when her words are so contradictory.  He knows it’s a habit from centuries of experience, that keeping herself calm helps keep those around her calm and therefore allow her to help her patient more.

He just hates being on the other end of it.

“You used a potion, shouldn’t it be in his bloodstream by now?” 

They hadn’t used magic for a reason, they don’t yet know if the lingering rituals magicks are still in his system, considering he struggled to wake every time Magnus tried to put him under.

“Despite Alec letting me have as much blood as I want to use for tests, I still don’t understand nephilim physiology as well as I’d like.” Cat gives a careful hum as she casts a diagnostic spell, frowning at the translucent green image that appears before her. 

“Well?” Magnus asks, impatient and expecting Catarina to give him a chiding look, not for the thoughtful interest that has her calculating gaze turn to him.

“Say something longer, directly to Alec this time.”

Magnus doesn’t hesitate, he turns and looks directly at his beloved, a broken “Alexander” slipping from his lips before he can even think about what he should say.

Hazel eyes blink open and for a brief moment Magnus is treated to Alexander’s gaze of pure adoration and relief.

Then a magic as pure white and wisping as a cloud parts them, clinging to Alexander’s eyes and ears like gauze.

“I should have known it would be your fault.” Catarina sounds exasperated but there is a soft turn to the corner of her lips even as she summons another chart.

“My fault?”

“He was reacting to your presence, especially your voice whenever you talked and probably any time Ragnor or I said your name.  It was making him fight through the potion so he could be with you.” Moving her hands in a quick wave-like pattern she begins to set up what Magnus recognizes as a sleeping ward. “I’ve temporarily restricted his sight and hearing but I don’t recommend it long term. Hence using magic after all, but not your magic.  This explains why he kept trying to wake up every time you tried to put him to sleep.” 

Magnus tries not to preen, but he really can’t help how utterly smug he feels at the knowledge that even when this deeply injured, Alexander wants nothing more than to be with him.

“I knew it, instant peacocking.” Catarina is wrapping a small monitor with an orange gem around Alexander’s arm, “now this, you can dismantle my wards when this stone turns yellow. When it turns green, you can remove the magic from his eyes and ears. Alright?”

Magnus reaches out and lets his magic encase the gem, ensuring that even if he is asleep or out of sight, he’ll know if it changes. 

-

this was supposed to have more plot but Magnus just fucking loves Alec too much to not hover and Alec loves Magnus too much to not try to wake up to be there with him and Cat would just like to treat her patient without emotional interference

[rafemotherfuckingcameron]

YOU LITERALLY SAVED MY LIFE

Word Count: 1.3k

Pairing(s): Dark!JJ x Reader, Sarah x Reader, Rafe x Reader

Warnings: domestic abuse, physical abuse, strangling, gaslighting, alcohol, mentions of blood, toxic relationship, controlling behavior, trauma, rape, 18+

Summary: Y/n trusted JJ, who initially seemed to be the love of her life, but ultimately became the source of her deepest fears.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Part 1 - Broken Trust

It’s hard to believe you’ve become this person—the one whose boyfriend has abused her, both physically and mentally.

You used to see yourself as strong, independent. Yet here you are, trapped in a nightmare that feels impossible to escape. JJ’s actions have slowly eroded your confidence, your spirit, until you no longer recognize yourself in the mirror.

The bruises on your body are painful reminders of the suffering you endure daily, while the scars on your heart run even deeper.

Never in your wildest dreams did you think you’d be making excuses for his behavior, hiding the truth from your friends and family.

How did it come to this? Are you somehow to blame? Questions swirl in your mind, but one thing is clear: you can’t continue like this.

You need help—someone who will believe you, stand by your side, and help you find a way out of this darkness.

-

You weren’t always this way. There was a time when you loved JJ deeply, willing to do anything for him. You cherished the moments together, the laughter, and the shared dreams of a future. But then, little accidents began to happen—his temper flaring unexpectedly, small outbursts that left you shaken and confused.

At first, you brushed it off, chalking it up to stress or bad days. But as time went on, the incidents became more frequent, more intense.

You found yourself walking on eggshells, trying to avoid triggering his anger. His apologies were always followed by promises to change, and you wanted to believe him, desperately clinging to the hope that things would get better.

But deep down, you knew something had changed. The person you loved seemed like a stranger at times, and you couldn’t understand why.

You tried talking to Kiara and Sarah, pouring out your heart and sharing the pain you were going through, but they couldn't believe that JJ would ever do such things.

Kiara, your best friend since childhood, defended her best friend adamantly, unable to reconcile the JJ she knew with the one you described.

Sarah, who had been like a sister to you, also shut you down, insisting that she had known JJ for years and couldn't imagine him behaving that way.

Their disbelief cut deep, leaving you feeling isolated and alone with your suffering. Little did you know that someone would eventually step in and literally save your life. And this is your story.

—

The first time you noticed a bruise on your face was after the night the Pogues came over for a games night and drinks. It started as a fun evening, with laughter filling the house as everyone enjoyed themselves. However, as the night progressed, tensions simmered beneath the surface, and JJ's mood grew darker.

By the time the others had left, you were very drunk, and it was just you and JJ alone. He had a bad day, you vaguely remember. The details from that point are fuzzy.

You remember feeling a sudden push, a jolt that sent you tumbling down the patio stairs. The next morning, you woke up groggy and sore, finding JJ beside you. His voice was gentle but firm as he assured you that you must have fallen on your own, too intoxicated to recall.

You wanted to believe it was just an accident, a consequence of being too drunk. Yet, a nagging feeling persisted—that push, that sudden fall—it felt deliberate, calculated.

The next time it happened was the week after, on Kiara's 21st birthday. You were in the kitchen, preparing dinner for everyone, when JJ came in from fishing outside. His mood was already sour, and when he saw you preparing chicken schnitzel strips, his temper erupted.

"What the fuck is this?" he yelled, storming over to you and pushing your body out of the way. Confusion and fear gripped you as he inspected the food.

"These aren't strips, they're like mini steaks. Can you do anything right, or do I need to show you how to do it properly?" His voice thundered in the small kitchen, and in his frustration, he waved the knife at you. As he went to set the knife down, the blade sliced your arm.

Pain shot through you like fire as the knife cut deep into your arm, blood pulsing out in hot, crimson rivulets. The kitchen air thickened with the metallic tang of blood, mixing with the acrid scent of fear. Shock and disbelief froze you for a split second, but then a surge of defiance rose within you.

"You just cut me!" you screamed at JJ, your voice cracking with pain and fury. His eyes, dark with anger, bore into yours, his face contorted with disdain. But instead of remorse, his expression twisted into a mask of pure rage.

"You made me do that!" he roared, grabbing a glass cup from the counter and hurling it at you with terrifying force. The glass shattered against the wall, fragments spraying across the room like deadly shrapnel.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, you psycho?" you yelled back, your voice trembling with a mix of terror and defiance. The accusation seemed to unhinge him further, igniting a storm of violence that was about to consume everything.

With a primal roar, JJ stormed toward you, his steps thundering on the floor. He shoved you brutally against the fridge, the impact jarring your already injured arm. Before you could react, his hands closed around your throat like a vice, squeezing off your air supply.

Panic surged through you, a desperate, primal instinct to survive. You clawed at his hands, your vision blurring with tears and lack of oxygen. But JJ's grip was unrelenting, crushing, his face twisted with hatred and derision.

"You think you can compare me to my father?" he hissed, his voice dripping with venom. "You're lucky I even put up with you, you worthless piece of shit!"

His words were like shards of glass, cutting through your soul. Darkness closed in around the edges of your vision as you fought for breath, for life.

In that terrifying moment, with JJ's fingers digging into your throat, you realized the magnitude of the danger you were in. Every part of you screamed for escape, for survival, as you battled against the monster you once loved.

The ringing of your phone shattered the tense silence, snapping JJ out of his violent trance. You collapsed to the ground amidst the shards of broken glass, gasping for air, your throat raw from his merciless grip. Through the haze of pain and fear, you heard JJ answer your phone with forced calmness.

"Yeah, she's not feeling well. We'll just get pizza tonight," he said, his voice unnervingly composed. The casual dismissal of your suffering sent a chill down your spine.

Weak and trembling, you struggled to your feet as JJ roughly grabbed you and shoved you into the bedroom, slamming the door shut and locking it behind him.

Alone in the suffocating darkness of the room, you crumpled to the floor, tears mingling with the blood from your wounded arm. Fear gripped your heart as you realized you were trapped, helpless against the man you once trusted, who now seemed capable of anything.

That was the day, you knew you needed to get out!