#Some people are artists and some people are artists who have personalities I can tolerate

[tovarishch-dyke]

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[ghostlyferrettarot]

🖤✨️Venus in the houses✨️🖤

❗️All the observations in this post are based on personal experience and research, it's completely fine if it doesn't resonate with everyone❗️

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🖤Masterlist🖤

♥︎Venus 1st house: charming people with a flirtatious aura. They know how to get people attached to them ; love to compliment others but expect double the praise in return, they know they are a catch. This individuals are usually the life of the party, the one who unites the relationship/friendship group.

♥︎Venus 2nd house: This is the house of finances, so these people prefer to be pampered by their loved one. People with strong values and respect, they expect the same from their partners. They don't play, they want stability and seriousness in a relationship; most loyal and supporting persons ever.

♥︎Venus 3rd house: really flirtatious and persuasive. They value new experiences, they are attracted to other's personality and interests. You have to keep them entertained, they have an adventurous nature and can get bored easily when it comes to a routine.

♥︎Venus 4th house: These individuals have a really harmonious and protective nature, a fairy-like aura to them. They value comfort and openness in a relationship, they want to feel the love of their partners and create a special bond with them. These people tend to attract people with mommy and daddy issues, with an "I can fix them" vibe.

♥︎Venus 5th House: These are my luxurious people, they have high standards and don't care what anyone has to say about it. They are in love with love, their cheerful nature attracts them towards creative people and people who are in a position of fame or success. They are the muses of artists.

♥︎Venus 6th house: These individuals tend to manage many things at once, they thrive on self-improvement. Their love language tends to be acts of service, they are also attracted to truly selfless people. They can spot a lie from miles away, value trust, and expect the same from their romantic partners. They forgive but they never forget.

♥︎Venus 7th house: They have an attractive and persuasive personality, they are tolerant and charismatic. The 7th house is the house of agreement and partnership, so your luck will probably change after your marriage, your significant other may play an important role in your life. These people crave love and genuine connections.

♥︎Venus 8th house: They are very sensual and intimidating; tend to have stalkers and admirers. They value deep connections, people who truly understand and accept them. People with some type of trauma are attracted to them. You may be interested in occult sciences and have healing powers.

♥︎Venus 9th house: They have a happy aura and an adventurous character. These individuals are attracted to optimistic and adventurous people, those who value their beliefs and want to take risks with them. Venus in the 9th house attracts many foreigners as it may indicate a lot of travelling, you significant other may be from another country.

♥︎Venus 10th House: The 10th House governs public image, career aspirations, and career achievements which makes these individuals attracted to status. They are goal-oriented, always looking to improve, and expect the same from their partners. You will want to live a high-profile life and connect with influential people.

♥︎Venus 11th house: They have a calming and jovial personality. Easily attract many friends who would want to work and connect with you to grow your business. These are my "friends to lovers" trope, they value friendship over romance, which attracts them to those closer to them.

♥︎Venus 12th house: These are my artistic people, they have a lot of passion and compassion. They tend to be attracted to spiritual or helpful people. They value connections and are naturally drawn to others; They find much comfort in helping those around them. They are looking for a partner with good character and empathy.

[whoreforjisung]

Pervy neighbor Jisung one-shot ✨

-Might continue the story in multiple parts if people are interested! I still have many ideas when it comes to pervy jisung

-Content / tags / warnings: smut / non-idol au / perv!jisung pining for new neighbor reader / masturbation (m,f) / ji is a little bit of an asshole / non-consensual pictures / one use of “noona” / drug and alcohol consumption / brief mentions of Felix, Minho, Changbin, and Seungmin

-Names are used as faceclaims only, and do not reflect the actions and personalities of real people

-Word Count: 6.2k

-I am very new to tumblr, and this is my very first time writing anything like this, so it is not proof-read or edited. Constructive criticism welcome!

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As a full-time freelance artist, you luckily had the liberty to pack up your cherished belongings and move to wherever you desired whenever you liked. That’s how you ended up landing yourself in Seoul at the ripe age of 24. It might sound silly, but you had a lifelong dream of living in a cozy apartment with a decent-sized balcony area. When a listing popped up during an impromptu trip to Korea, in Seoul nonetheless, for a manageable price, you immediately jumped on it. It was game over as soon as you visited and saw the beautiful balcony with a wrought-iron spiral staircase. After reluctantly returning home, it was hard to contain your excitement in the weeks leading up to your move. You were already eagerly selecting furniture to buy, as well as decorations, and brainstorming ideas on how to use the space as soon as you finalized the lease.

As you finally pulled up to the new apartment, you couldn’t contain the wide smile that crept across your face as you shielded your eyes from the sun, admiring your spacious balcony. Just the thought of being able to curl up at dusk with that book you’ve been meaning to read for ages on the hammock chair you purchased for it, had you teeming with excitement. It kept you in a positive spirit as you lugged boxes containing your possessions one by one up the stairs and into your new home. That was, until you accidentally dropped the large framed painting you were attempting to transport, sending it tumbling down the stairs leaving hundreds of glass shards in its wake. The sudden noise startling your cat, Newt, from his peaceful slumber in his carrier. He reacted with a hiss and a few agitated meows.

“Would it kill you to keep it down? Some of us are trying to WORK here! FUCK!” You look up from your kneeled position on the stairs as you’re scrambling to pick up the glass shards, and your eyes meet a young man with a scowl on his face, leaning over the balcony opposite to yours. He has a pair of headphones dangling around his neck and is clutching a can of beer, fingernails adorned with black nail polish. “I’m so sorry! I should’ve been more careful. It won’t happen again!” You replied as you continued picking up the pieces. “Whatever. Can you do something about your hairball? It’s making my damn ears bleed.” He angrily snapped in response, pointing towards Newt’s carrier. You could tolerate the first comment, but who did he think he was to so directly insult your pet like that? “Just because I caused a minor commotion doesn’t give you the right to be so rude to a complete stranger. Since I’m no longer disrupting you, Why don’t you close the window, remove the stick up your ass, and get back to your oh-so-important work while I quietly move the rest of my boxes into my house. Sound good?” He didn’t seem to have a response for you, instead opting to toss back the remainder of his drink, crushing the can and tossing it directly towards your feet before shutting the window. Taking a deep breath, you grabbed your dustpan from the box labeled “cleaning supplies” and swept up the rest of your mess (along with “mystery jerk neighbor’s” added trash) before moving the final few boxes, as well as the cat carrier inside.

You were so grateful the place came furnished, as you promptly slumped down on the green velvet couch, allowing yourself to take a quick breather before taking Newt out of the carrier, letting him explore while you unpacked his necessities and began assembling the cat tree. By the time sunset began to roll around, you had made a decent amount of progress unpacking and building a good amount of your living room and kitchen furniture, including your hammock chair for the balcony. After brewing yourself a cup of tea and grabbing the book you intended to read, you finally made your way to your new outdoor relaxation sanctuary.

After situating yourself in the chair, draping a thin blanket over your legs, and taking a sip of warm green tea, you let out a content sigh as you finally opened your novel, ready to immerse yourself into the story for the next hour or so. You made it through exactly 2 1/2 chapters before “mystery jerk neighbor” made his second appearance. This time, followed by a small white puppy and the unmistakable smell of weed. Now, you normally wouldn’t consider yourself to be the petty type, but his disrespect towards you earlier prompted you to throw some back his way in retaliation. When he took a long drag and proceeded to start coughing up a lung, you shouted “Keep it down would ya? Some of us are trying to READ here!” Mirroring his first words to you. “Oh that’s realll original” he replied with a pained rasp between coughs. Rolling your eyes, you redirected your attention back to your book, assuming that would be the end of the distraction.

A small handful of pages later, a loud “YOOOO FELIX” pierces through the silence as he starts a phone call. Placing a bookmark to save your spot, you close the book and set it on your small side table. After a few minutes you return , donning your noise cancelling headphones. You’d be damned if you were going to let him ruin your highly anticipated reading time after a long and exhausting day. A peaceful 10 minutes later, he retreats back into his own apartment- much to your delight. However, your joy is short-lived as he soon returns with an acoustic guitar slung across his torso and takes a seat. Unfortunately, you quickly realize his strumming penetrates through your headphones. So much for noise-cancelling. Completely losing your focus and not wanting to engage with him any further, you decide it’s time to head inside and get yourself ready for bed. After a much-needed shower to rinse off the sweat and dust that had accumulated on your body throughout the day, you continue your nightly routine. Slipping on a pair of panties and one of your many oversized sleep shirts, you head to the kitchen to finish your cup of tea while absentmindedly scrolling on tiktok. After setting your mug in the sink and brushing your teeth in the bathroom, you finally turn into bed and listen to Newt’s content purrs as he cuddles up to you, both of you quickly drifting off to sleep.

You curse yourself for setting your alarm so early as you’re jolted awake by the incessant, absurdly high-pitched beeping at 8:00 AM. You did have a specific reason for wanting to wake up so early though, as you remember your plans and reluctantly drag yourself out of bed. Your first task of the day was grocery shopping, so after brushing your teeth and twisting your hair up into a claw clip, you threw on a pair of sweatpants with a black cropped hoodie and began your walk to the nearest market.

Arriving after about fifteen minutes, you began working through your ingredients list. You stopped at an herb stall with a middle-aged woman behind the booth. One of your many plans for your balcony space was to install a fresh herb garden, so you engaged in small talk with the seller as you selected various herbs to purchase. “Do you sell cat grass?” You asked. Suddenly, a young man with blond hair springs up from under the counter. “You won’t find any here at the market, but I can show you where to get some!” You’re taken aback by the deep voice that comes out of him, as well as his strangely friendly offer. Sensing your apprehension, the woman adds “Oh don’t worry dear, you can trust him! Yongbok here is our designated neighborhood helper.” She smiles at him as she pats his back. “Oh uhh okay. I have a few more things to grab here first, if that’s okay?” You reply, setting your items down for him to ring up. A few minutes later, you finished picking up the rest of the items on your list and returned to the stall to let him know you were ready. “I’ll be back in about twenty minutes Auntie!” He called back to the woman as the two of you walked away.

You found it surprising how talkative he was. He told you his name was Felix, he grew up in Australia, but moved to Korea when he was seventeen, and he loves cooking, baking, and gaming. Even though you just met him, you were happy you shared some of the same interests, and honestly a little part of you hoped this wouldn’t be the last you’d see of him. The short walk led you to a large apartment complex. Felix told you his friend, Minho, is a huge cat-lover who grows his own cat grass, so you figured this is where he lived. It seemed like he spent a lot of time at Minho’s place, as the security guard immediately buzzed you both in as soon as he saw him, greeting him with a wave.

Felix knocked on the door as you arrived at, presumably, his friend’s unit. You could hear multiple voices from outside the door, and began to feel a little bit anxious. The door opened to reveal quite possibly the buffest man you have ever seen in person before. He quickly pulled your new acquaintance into a bear hug, shouting “FELIX IS HEREEE- and who’s this?” He added as he broke away, noticing you. You shyly introduced yourself to him, still standing in the doorway before Felix enters, pulling you both in. Feeling slightly overwhelmed by the amount of people present, you keep your gaze trained on the floor as he ushers you into the kitchen. “Hey Minho! This is the girl I texted you about. You know- the cat grass” He explained as he gestures toward you.

You pry your gaze from the floor to see an -admittedly, beautiful man holding a spatula and wearing an apron that says “world’s best Mom” on it in hot pink lettering. As you struggle to stifle a giggle, he quickly explains that he received it as a gift from his friend Seungmin. Since he can’t leave the kitchen while he’s cooking, he instructs Felix to take you to his study, where he has prepared a small pot for you to take home. As you enter the study, you notice a sleeping figure on the black leather couch in your peripheral vision. It wasn’t until you quietly retrieved the pot, turning to exit the room, that you recognized the person sleeping. He was your mysterious jerk neighbor! You had to admit though, as much as your very limited interactions with him pissed you off, he looked kinda cute peacefully sleeping like that- with his dark, curly hair cascading over the side of his face, cheeks all puffed out and lips formed into a devastating little pout. It was hard to believe this was the same man as the asshole that lived across from you. Once you realized you were staring at him, you shook your thoughts away and silently made your way back into the living room. Thanking Minho and bidding farewell to everyone else, you and Felix began your trek back to the market.

Arriving back home shortly after dropping Felix off and giving him your socials, you got to work putting away your groceries and began to tackle the daunting task of unpacking and organizing your belongings. In order to not burn yourself out, you made sure to take breaks every few hours. During your breaks you would work on artwork, watch an episode of the kdrama you were currently immersed in, play with Newt, crochet, and stretch- even doing a little bit of yoga in the evening.

After you were satisfied with the progress you made for the day, you booted up your computer and logged on to Miroh- a new labyrinth MMORPG you had found yourself getting absolutely sucked into lately. You didn’t find the time to game as often as you would have liked to, but when you did, you preferred to set aside a good four hours or so in order to ensure you’d make a decent amount of progress with every session. After several failed attempts to demolish the octo-cyclops boss of the S-Class dungeon- in order to acquire its exclusive armor set, you were about to call it quits for the night when a random player requested to join your party. You accepted the request from _doolsetnet, sending a gratitude emote as you entered the dungeon for the umpteenth time that night, this time with another player at your assistance.

Your morale was high as you successfully cleared the second stage almost flawlessly, mentally preparing for the third and final stage. It started off well, but as the boss’s rage intensified, so did it’s attack speed. You both took a few good hits, your health bar depleting rapidly. Your helper still had a good three-quarters of their health to spare, and enough mana to cast one spell. The boss only had about a quarter left on its health bar- two more good hits and it would go down. You unmuted your mic to request a heal from your partner, which they promptly offered. With your health bar restored to half-full, and your mana charged for two attacks, you were finally able to hear the sweet, sweet cries of defeat as you slayed the beast. You jumped out of your chair, raising your fists in the air and letting out a loud “FUCK YESSS! TAKE THAT YOU ONE-EYED SLIMY CUNT” as the game rewarded you with the gorgeous mother-of-pearl armor set you’ve been ogling for months- complete with an iridescent helmet showcasing the monster’s eye. You sent user _doolsetnet a thank you message, and attached a gift containing a couple hundred gold along with a few of the rare armor dyes you had extras of. They responded by shooting you a friend request, which you accepted, and a rare weapon skin you also had your eye on. After logging off for the night, you hopped in the shower, brushed your teeth, crawled into bed with Newt in your arms, and fell asleep.

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The day you moved in was a rough one for Han Jisung. All morning he worked tirelessly, trying to perfect the song he was commissioned to produce for a high-profile client. Each time he finished editing and emailing the file, he was always met with a problem. The beat overpowers the vocals, the guitar is too quiet, the bpm is too fast, too slow- it was impossible to please them with this song, and he was going to absolutely lose it. As a perfectionist, he couldn’t let it go until both him, and the client, were both one-hundred percent satisfied. He was running on about six hours of sleep in the past three days, with a concerning lack of food and over-dependence on coffee, energy drinks, and beer. He could barely rip his focus away from the project long enough to shower and make sure his beloved puppy, Bbama, was still well taken care of.

When the blaring hisses and sharp beeps of the moving trucks breached through the music he was working on, he nearly screamed out the window at them to shut the fuck up, but he still had self control. Honestly, it was his fault for procrastinating even though he knew someone would be moving in across from him today. He tried to drown out the noise for the next hour, and when the trucks pulled out, his focus finally pulled in again. He locked in- diligently toiling away at the project, until two hours later, he had the latest revised version complete. Making sure he took all of his client’s requests into account, he submitted the file and began the waiting game. Anxiously pacing around his apartment and biting his nails for another hour, he received an email notification. He sprinted to his computer, not even bothering to take a seat as his hand hovered over the mouse for a few seconds in anticipation. He slid the cursor over the most recent email in his inbox, squeezing his eyes shut and chanting a quiet “please, please, please..” he clicked the mouse and slowly opened his eyes, scanning the results. “Mr. Han, We always appreciate your hard work, and are nearly content with the song. There are just a few small tweaks we would like to- “MOTHERFUCKER” he threw himself onto his couch and muffled an anguished scream with his pillow. He nearly started bawling due to the overwhelming frustration and crippling exhaustion.

The deadline was tomorrow, and he would have to rework the godforsaken song for the sixteenth and last time. He had to make his next submission perfect- or risk losing one of his most important clients. He peeled himself off the couch, sauntered over to his fridge to grab yet another can of beer, returned to his desk, took a few deep breaths, and got to work. There was one specific part of the song that needed reworked. He began playing the same fifteen seconds repeatedly, closer and closer to losing his sanity as he just could not pick out what was wrong with it. Another ten times- still couldn’t place it. Twenty more times, and then he caught it- at the very end of the segment. His full focus on the next loop, he cranked the volume and listened intently, not even daring to breathe in fear of it disrupting his flow. The last five seconds coming up- this was it.

A loud crash broke his focus, followed by the shrieking howls of an agitated cat. That was his last straw. He slammed his left fist down on his desk, still clutching his beer can in his right hand. Shooting out of his chair he flung open the sliding door and stormed to the edge of his balcony. He started yelling before even thinking, just letting all of his pent-up rage out on whoever his new neighbor was. Once the red-hot fury died down, and he actually saw the unfortunate victim of his outburst, he retreated in embarrassment. She was a girl who looked to be in her early to mid twenties, around the same age as him. Kinda cute too, and he threw his fucking beer can at her! God, what the hell was wrong with him? He wanted to crawl into the fetal position and just disappear forever. Unfortunately for him, though, he still had the grueling obligation of completing his wretched assignment. He stretched, cracked his knuckles, and got to work once more.

A painstaking six hours later, he checked over the email again, to refer to his clients requirements. Making damn sure he remembered EVERYTHING this time, he went through a mental checklist. He listened to the full song one more time, paying close attention to the fifteen second segment he had reworked dozens of times. This time, he had swapped the guitar for a bassy synth to create a break at the end of the pre-chorus, and he honestly felt satisfied with the outcome. He might’ve entered a state of delirium after twenty-four restless, stress filled hours, and slipped into a rather cocky mindset. He was happy with the song at last, and the client would be content with it too. Honestly, they were lucky to have a producer like him working with them. He was a musical genius. After confidently re-submitting the file for the final time, he rolled himself a much-deserved joint. He gave little Bbama all the belly rubs and smooches he had missed the last few days as he made his way to the balcony for a stress-relieving smoke.

Jisung took a few deep drags, feeling increasingly calm with every exhale, until his breath caught in his throat upon noticing you lounging on your balcony straight across from him- seemingly deeply invested in a book. The smoke in his throat burned, launching him into a painful coughing fit. He silently prayed that you wouldn’t notice, and mentally cursed himself when you did- repeating his same harsh words to you earlier, absolutely dripping with sass. He threw back a half-assed reply, wishing he could’ve put more effort into it, and was rewarded with a nonchalant eye-roll. Oh, it was game-over for him now. One thing Jisung could never control himself around, was a person who simultaneously gave off the vibes of a dom, while exuding just the perfect amount of brattiness- just enough for him to want to mercilessly fuck the attitude out of.

He decided right then and there to “test your limits”- so to speak. He dialed up his buddy Felix, making sure to greet him as loudly and obnoxiously as he could possibly muster. Only to be met with disappointment, as you just sighed and closed your book, withdrawing back into your living space. Maybe he jumped the gun- and assumed too much too soon? Oh well, he’d have plenty more chances to get a rise out of you, and began plotting his next move as he continued his conversation with Felix. When you returned wearing headphones, and sat back down to resume your book- completely ignoring him, he immediately felt his dick tightening against his pants, begging to be freed. He didn’t have you all wrong- quite the contrary. He had you just right, and the little bit of tantalizing cleavage your tank top revealed to him was the perfect tease, your breasts slightly squeezing together with every page you turned.

He attempted to mess with you a little more, even bringing out his guitar, in the hopes of disrupting your reading just enough to prompt an annoyed outburst. (And maybe even impressing you a little bit with his skills). When you once again retreated inside, and didn’t return, he figured you just went to bed this time. It was like all of his pent-up frustration throughout the week sent itself straight to his manhood. He was throbbing as he fell back on his couch, palming himself over his jeans. He had to use his imagination, having only his limited view of your cleavage to work with, but that wasn’t a problem for him.

You were straddling his lap on his couch, plush thighs squeezing either side of his as you slowly and tortuously ground yourself against his aching length. In this scenario, you had caught him sneaking a peek at you through the window and stormed over, angrily knocking on his door to confront him. You were yelling at him with your arms crossed, squeezing your tits together and giving him the perfect view. -He finally released himself from his denim prison, wrapping his hand around his thick, hard length, and letting out a sigh- When you noticed where he was staring, and looked down to see the prominent bulge in his pants, you forcefully pushed him down on the couch, climbing on top of him. Yanking the nape of his curly hair, you compelled him to look up at you, chastising him for being a dirty pervert. “You disgusting piece of shit- can’t even be scolded by a woman without getting yourself all hot and bothered.” You spat at him as he let out a whimper. “How pathetic” the way you breathlessly enunciated that word had him fisting his angry cock furiously, thighs twitching and breaths panting as he felt his chest tighten. He was so close already- probably due to his lack of jerking off for the past few days.

When you crept your hand up his chest and around his throat, harshly squeezing your fingers around it, he came. All over his hand, shirt, pants, couch, and even spilling a few drops onto his floor. He can’t even remember the last time he came this hard- it was probably one of the first times he ever masturbated. He didn’t even get to the best part in his scenario, the part where he takes over, flipping you onto your back and burying his face between your legs, eating you out like you’re his last meal while you’re whining and begging him to take you, as you release all over his fingers and face. He felt himself twitch, and looked down in disbelief to be met with yet another raging boner. God, the things you did to him, and you didn’t even know him, or his name. It just made the whole thing that much hotter. He’ll make sure you’ll find out soon, though, so the you in his fantasies can scream it for him.

After cleaning up his mess, and slipping into a clean pair of sweatpants, he made his way over to his fridge, and grabbed himself a cup of water. Chugging it down to soothe his dry throat, he glanced out the window- his eyes falling on you. You were wearing nothing but a large t-shirt, barely covering the curve of your ass, as you leaned over your kitchen counter. Sipping on a mug in one hand and scrolling on your phone in another, you were unknowingly giving him some quality material to work with. He made sure to engrain that image of you in his mind, taking note of every detail of your legs, including your tattoos, for next time.

The next morning, after getting a few hours of sleep and clearing his brain fog, he was mortified to say the least. He made himself out to be a complete asshole to his new (hot) neighbor, and immediately proceeded to ferociously pump himself dry to his imagination of said neighbor. Embarrassed was an understatement. He groaned as he got out of bed, heading into the bathroom to brush his teeth. As he refilled Bbama’s food and water dishes, he decided he should apologize to you for his rude behavior.

A little while later, he found himself standing outside your door, preparing his fist to knock. As he heard your footsteps nearing increasingly closer, he panicked and made a beeline to the end of the hallway, tucking himself around the corner. He caught his breath, noticing you exiting your unit and heading down the stairs. He was startled by his phone buzzing, pulling it out of his pocket to read a text from Minho. “Get your ass over here NOW. I know you haven’t eaten well in days and I’m preparing some bulgogi.” He honestly didn’t even notice just how hungry he was, being too distracted by this work, and- well, you, to care. He pulled himself up and made his way over to Minho’s.

He immediately flopped down on the couch in the study after greeting his friends. They knew him- and his current work dilemma, well enough to understand he didn’t have the energy for socializing until he got a good rest, so that’s exactly what he proceeded to do. Seungmin kicked open the door when their meal was ready, jolting Jisung awake. He drug his feet to the kitchen, joining Minho, Changbin, Hyunjin, and Suengmin at the table and taking his seat. While quite literally stuffing his mouth, he listened to his friends converse and argue, adding in a few comments muffled by the food stored in his cheeks. His interest piqued when Changbin mentioned the girl that came by, turning to Minho and sending him a puzzled look. Since when does Minho invite girls over? His older friend noticed his expression, and responded by explaining that Felix had brought her over because she was on the hunt for cat grass. “I can’t deny though, she was just my type. I’ll have to ask Felix if he got her number.” Hyunjin piped up, wiggling his eyebrows.

Seungmin shot him a side-eye, pinching his arm and causing the other to yelp while chastising him for his fuckboy attitude. Jisung on the other hand, was intrigued- asking Hyunjin to describe her appearance, practically begging, honestly. Who could blame him? He was currently down bad- astronomically, even. After listening to Hyunjin’s description, agreeing that she did, in fact, seem very attractive, he rewarded his friend with a description of the goddess that had just moved in next door to him. Hyunjin was practically drooling as he described her perky tits and thick, tattoo-adorned thighs in great detail, prompting Seungmin to manually shut his jaw. “No more horny talk over the meal I slaved away at all day, to prepare for you ungrateful degenerates!” Minho shouted, bringing the conversation to an abrupt halt. After finishing the perfectly-cooked bulgogi and cleaning up after themselves, Jisung walked home, with Hyunjin in tow, begging him to let him crash at his place. Hyunjin lived only a block away from him, so he knew the only reason was so his friend could get a look at you. Cursing himself for his overly-enthusiastic recounting of your gorgeous body- only having seen the lower half so far, he pushed Hyunjin towards the opposite end of the fork dividing the paths between both of their residences.

When he returned home, he cracked open a can of beer, bringing it to his lips as he looked out his window, once again catching a glimpse of you. He quite literally spit out the liquid he was holding in his mouth, as his gaze was met with your ass pointed directly towards him, your back arched towards the floor, and arms outstretched while you contorted your body into what seemed to be a yoga pose. He silently praised whatever god might exist for you leaving your curtains open, and wearing the shortest compression shorts, as he stared- dumbfounded. He could literally see the outline of your pussy, leaving barely anything to his imagination. He wasn’t proud of it at all, but simply his memory would not suffice. He just had to snap a pic. He laid down on his bed as he pulled down the waistband of his joggers. Staring at his new favorite picture,

He began to slowly stroke himself as his imagination ran wild.

This time, you were doing yoga on your balcony when you caught him staring. You didn’t seem mad, quite the opposite, however, as he watched you sit down and part your legs, not breaking eye contact as you shoved your fingers in your mouth, slowly sucking on them. He watched you leisurely trail your other hand down your chest, squeezing your right breast, and releasing a pretty moan muffled by your fingers as you grazed over your nipple. He wondered how your moans would really sound. Would they be as needy as he’s picturing them right now? He hoped he would get the chance to find out. He imagined you releasing your spit-covered hand from your mouth, placing it on your inner thigh and leaving wet trails as it inched further and further to your puffy cunt, obstructed by your tight compression shorts. Still not breaking eye contact with him, you slid the garment to the side, as well as the tiny red thong you wore underneath in his fantasy. Giving him a mouth-watering view of your dripping heat, you plunged two fingers in, gasping at the feeling of fullness. You closed your eyes as you slowly pumped in and out, letting the quietest whimpers grace his ears. You lifted your head and offered him a sexy smirk, beckoning him to “come here” with your two glistening fingers. He brought his hand to his mouth, spitting into it and resuming its position wrapped around his needy cock. The added lubrication allowed him to increase his pace- still careful not to go too fast and risk missing out on the best parts of his scenario again.

He started to let out a few breathy whines as he imagined himself knocking on your door. You answered quickly, grabbing him by his shirt and pulling him in before closing the door, and leading him to your bedroom. He kicked off his shoes somewhere along the way, and you sat on the edge of your bed, instructing him to kneel on the floor between your thighs. He trailed sloppy, open mouthed kisses up your inner thighs as you tangled your hand in his curls. He broke away to remove your shorts and thong, giving him a clear view of your arousal. He caught a whiff of your sweet scent, flattening his tongue and slowly lapping up towards your clit. You responded by pulling on his hair and grinding yourself against his face, causing him to release a deep moan, the vibration had you shuttering against him. He slipped his ring finger in, the cold metal of his ring contrasting with the warmth of your walls caused your eyes to roll back. You let out a loud moan as his middle finger joined the other inside you, relishing in the juxtaposition of slight pain and pleasure, as he stretched you out. You used his fingers to fuck yourself towards him, allowing his undivided attention to focus on sucking and circling your clit. This had you absolutely reeling, crushing his head between your thighs and coming undone, rewarding him with the most filthy, sinful, screams as his face was coated with your sweet nectar. He looked up at you as he sensually plunged his fingers into his mouth, licking up your release, and groaning at the taste. Your eyes glistened as he stood up, looking down at you as you returned his gaze through your lashes. You lowered your focus to the tent in his sweatpants, taking in the perfect outline of his curvature as you parted your legs and begged- no, pleaded with him to fuck you. You promised you’d be good for him, make him feel good, let him use you. The incoherent mumbling faltered as he sandwiched himself between your legs, and pulled his waistband down- his hard, leaking dick slapping against your abdomen. He hoisted your legs over his shoulders, keeping a strong grip on them as he finally plunged himself deep into your soaked cunt. He allowed you to adjust yourself to the stretch, choking out a guttural groan and a “fuck.. noona!” (He has no idea how old you are, he just has a little bit of a fixation on the idea of you being slightly older than him. He’ll unpack that another time.) As he imagined feeling you clench around him- and he felt his cock twitch violently in his hand- he blew his load all over himself, feeling the warm liquid coating his fingers and abs.

Panting heavily, he still couldn’t look away from his phone in his grip, displaying the picture he took of you. He wanted -needed- to know what it was like to see you up close in the same position. After taking a few moments to collect himself, he walked past his window on the way to the fridge. Seeing you sitting in front of your computer, back tensed in what appeared to be frustration, he tried to maneuver his vision around you to get a peek at what you were working on. He figured you were an artist, as you had all kinds of equipment set up around your living room- canvases, easels, and a cart full of what appeared to be paintbrushes and paints. He wanted to see if you were working on a digital art piece, and nearly came in his pants when he finally caught a view of your computer, instantly recognizing the images on your screen. You weren’t working on art, you were playing Miroh- his current favorite MMORPG. He opened his phone camera and zoomed in to try to get a better view of the game. Adrenaline surged in his chest as he saw the familiar Octo-Cyclops he has beaten countless times. In fact, he helped many players through that dungeon in the Miroh discord server he was an active member in. This was his time to shine. He captured a picture of your screen, hoping to make out your username. Sure enough, it was legible.

He practically sprinted to his computer and logged into the game, quickly typing in your tag and requesting to join your party, which you immediately accepted. He got to work preparing his inventory and chuckled to himself when you sent him a cute emote to thank him in advance for helping. At the third stage of the boss fight, he was playing defensively- letting you take the brunt of most of the attacks while he conserved his mana for a healing spell. As he watched your health bar start to deplete, he was preparing to heal you when you unmuted to beg him for help in the sweetest voice. He smirked as he released the spell, effectively restoring your health and mana, allowing you to fire off your last two attacks, defeating the boss. He smiled to himself as he heard your sailor-mouthed victory chant. Browsing his inventory for his rarest extra weapon skin, he attached it to the friend request he sent you before logging off and heading to bed. He was overflowing with pride with himself for being able to send you a nice gesture, even if it was anonymously.

[icyg4l]

PAC: How Can You Prepare for Summer?

Hi, beautiful people. This is a continuation of my summer tarot series. Today’s reading will consist of tips that you can take to prepare for the summer. Without further ado, please select your pile.

Top Left-to-Bottom Right: (1-4)

Pile One: The name Dorothea is coming to mind. Pile One, you have been re-evaluating your life choices and your circle. Both of these things go hand-in-hand so please listen carefully. I feel like you’re having a hard time letting go of something but at the end of the day, you have to accept the situation for what it is. In order to have a fun, celebratory summer, you must get rid of that person. They do not have good intentions for you. Remember, the company that you keep determines where you will end up. I also think that you should focus on trying to get your license as well, Pile One especially if you’re a student driver. You will pass your state driver’s test if you correct the mistakes that you’ve been making on the road. With more practice, you’ll be on the road going to the beach in no time. 

Cards Used: King of Wands, The Chariot, Five of Cups, Queen of Swords, Four of Wands 

Pile Two: Your summer is not already ruined, Pile Two. You just need to pivot. Pivot meaning jump to the next thing. Your situation is not permanent. You can and will move to the next phase of life. It may not be tomorrow, but it will happen nonetheless. Anyway, I feel like you need to be more excited for what is to come. Better weather, having more daylight, the amount of events you can attend to witness artistry in motion. There’s so much to be done, Pile Two. I feel like you also need to stop getting so embarrassed easily. You need to do more cringy stuff so that you can deal with rejection better. Doing this will also help you be more accepting of yourself. And lastly, you need to be willing to embrace your wild side more. You’re not getting younger by the day. There is only so much time that you have on this earth. Take advantage of it. Climb the ladder. 

Cards Used: 5 of Cups, 4 of Cups, Judgment, 6 of Wands, The Magician, 5 of Wands 

Pile Three: You put that glue to use and get to work, honeybee. I feel that you are a very creative person. You work with your hands a lot. You could be a nail tech, a fashion designer, or just a DIY type of gal. I feel like one thing that you should do is to be as fluid as possible. It will help your creative juices flow. Do any activities that help your sacral chakra boom. Twerk, meditate, do yoga, be artistic, be around people that make your heart feel full and inspired, work with carnelian. Another thing that you need to know is you are that bitch. Some of you fear that you will become another statistic, and that just isn’t true. You are good enough and you will make an impact on this world. You could listen to Summer Walker, James Brown, Etta James, Kehlani or Brandy. And another thing that you can do is spend time with children/with your inner child. Tapping into this energy is a purifier. You are going to be so happy that you’ve done this. I think it would be a good idea to revisit some of your old favorite media like Phineas and Ferb or Judy Moody books or Captain Underpants. There’s so much to do. The sky's the limit. 

Cards Used: 6 of Cups, The Tower, Queen of Cups, The Magician, Knight of Cups, Princess of Cups 

Pile Four: This pile probably listens to a lot of country/folk music, lol. You must be from down South. I feel like this pile needs to be grounded in reality. You spend a lot of time in space. I heard the “Appalachian Mountains”. Do you get high or drunk a lot? I feel like your sense of time is always warped because of your altered state. I think you should take a tolerance break for sure. This next message is for some of you, not all of you. You should take a pregnancy test if you’ve been sexually active with someone who has a penis, just to be safe. I am sensing an unexpected pregnancy for someone in this pile, so congratulations to you if you decide to keep the baby lol. But if not, then I hope you carry on with your life as usual and with more safety. I heard ‘koi fish’ and ‘Bryson Tiller’. I feel like you need to flirt with some people, Pile Two. It’s been too long. You might be a little rusty, but you need to get out there. It’s best to expand your social circles altogether. It will help you navigate the world a little easier.

Cards Used: 4 of Swords, King of Discs, Ace of Swords, Queen of Wands, The Devil, The Moon (RX)

[loriache]

Thistle & Senshi: Missed Connections

continuing my thistleposting... here is my manifesto for thistle and senshi: friends. In another life 😥

For one thing, they've been unknowing cohabitants for most of senshi's life. thistle doesn't think much of the non-golden kingdom residents of the dungeon, of course - he considers them trespassers and thieves! but there is a difference between trespassers and thieves who mind their own business, and even help keep other adventurers out (he obviously knew about and tolerated the orcs), and trespassers and thieves who make a mess of his dungeon (hateful, to be killed).

which I can't blame him for!

Based on what it looks like when marcille became the dungeon lord, we could assume that creating a dungeon is super easy - just rely on the winged lion for everything! But we see in thistle's flashbacks, that isn't how he did it.

Thistle did a lot of the work of building the dungeon manually. Perhaps because he was trying to build a sustainable dungeon, that could support a large population of living people - who he was invested in surviving themselves, not being replaced by puppets by the demon. They need a functioning ecosystem!

Of course, this is all pragmatic. After working on it for so long, I am sure Thistle is attached to the dungeon and its ecosystem, but more as a means to an end than for its own sake. As we see from the way that Laois defeats him, Thistle isn't really interested in monsters, and doesn't really understand the value of food...

Though I think he once did, and the fact he doesn't anymore is more down to the lion's interference than anything.

Senshi is attached to the dungeon's ecosystem. It's his home, even though he lost his family there, and he's come to care about it in its own right.

There are aspects of it he finds distasteful or dislikes, such as the immortality spell. But overall, if he had a chance to talk to Thistle about his hard work building up and maintaining the dungeon, he'd be greatly appreciative of it - this is his home, and it's a place that Thistle made to be a home.

In fact, Senshi (and the orcs) have been willingly living in the dungeon. Whereas the people that Thistle created the dungeon for have to be kept there by force. I doubt it's something he'd be easily appreciative of, but it's something, isn't it?

I also think it's incredibly cute that they both keep diaries.

Senshi's diaries have drawing, Thistle's have poems... they're both artists! Thistle with his music & Senshi with his cooking, they both have arts that they share with others to make them happy, and art that they keep to themselves.

Based on the diaries, including the ones in the complete Adventurers Bible..... it doesn't seem like Senshi ever learned Thistle's name! This makes sense since they really don't have much interaction - mostly Thistle talks to Laios or Marcille.

I don't think it should have gone any other way, since they're the protagonists and foils, but I do think in a more chilled out setting, Senshi and Thistle could get on.

Like Izutsumi, Thistle's a bit of a brat.

(I love him)

He probably had good table manners once upon a time, but I reckon he is very out of practice.

And we see he isn't in the habit of sharing:

Senshi would disapprove!

Senshi's desire to get everyone living well can be a bit overbearing. He already cleaned Thistle's kitchen for him!

But like Izutsumi, Thistle is another character that Senshi's habit of assuming non-dwarves to be children would be appropriate for. He's much older than Senshi, yeah, but his maturity levels seem to have stagnated along with his physical form in some ways. I doubt that anyone has treated him like a kid since way before he became a dungeon lord. The humans around him didn't understand his age, we can see that from the responsibility Delgal puts on him!

I think it would be good for him to have a person in his life who treats him like a kid, after he's had to be an adult so early and have so much responsibility for so long. And I'd like him to sit down and eat a delicious meal.

Sometimes that does happen! But Senshi would have done better </3

Thistle's ending is sad, but it's cathartic and makes sense. After being consumed by the winged lion, I doubt he'd be able to persist for a little longer, like Yaad - why would he even want to?

But I do think it would be nice if he could have met new people, formed new desires outside of his codependency with Delgal, and eaten a meal together with new people. Senshi could have helped him with that, if he had had the opportunity.

[brujahinaskirt]

Okay, I obviously made the above post as a leetle joke, but since it's getting not insignificant traction, I do want to offer a more serious note.

I love this about Arthur. It's probably my favorite thing about him, but let me use this fresh new RDR2 meta post to clarify exactly what I mean. Despite the aspects of his personality & appearance that are traditionally hypermasculine, and despite how often he is annoyed with people (especially incompetents or people who meddle with his plans), Arthur is decidedly NOT annoyed by the social performance of femininity or by traits that are/were frequently stereotyped as feminine. Ever. Regardless of subject. I might go so far as to say he seems to canonically prefer hanging out with women and with "feminine" men.

Your long-winded, bullet-pointed analysis is below!

The Girls. Most noticeably, Arthur actually sits down to talk with and actively confides in the camp Girls (Tilly, Mary-Beth, Karen) more than anyone else around. These three are the most traditionally "girly" (single, 20s, active, pretty, unattached, highly social, feminine, chatty) members of the gang, though of course they are still criminals and don't perfectly adhere to all period-typical standards of feminine comportment. He doesn't mock the girls** like he sometimes does with other auxiliary members of the gang (like Uncle and Pearson, playful or not). Notably, he doesn't even gently tease Mary-Beth for writing her "silly" romance novels, a highly feminized hobby which she speaks about in a self-depreciating manner, much like Arthur speaks about his own artistic hobbies. Rather, he talks to her about writing like a peer and encourages her to write more by going out of his way to get her a nice pen. Crucially, there is no canon romantic or sexual interest in any of the girls on Arthur's behalf. He just feels the most comfortable in their company and seems to value their advice/opinions on life the most. To me, this is much stronger proof than his forever-burning torch for the cultured & ladylike Mary, which is (or was once) rooted in romantic desire. ** Unless the player persists in Antagonizing them, and these lines (while sometimes shockingly cruel and offhandedly sexual in nature; see Arthur teasing Tilly about pursuing Javier) are largely about goading them for laziness or, in Karen's case, her alcoholism. That said, many of the Antagonize lines strike me as clumsily tacked-on & poorly rooted in canon, which could indicate: (1) an Arthur who is deliberately trying to be disruptive (a generous interpretation), or (2) writers instructed to add throwaway content that will make a certain type of childishly misanthropic gamer (think 13 y.o. boys) squeal in glee with relatively low impact on the overall story.

Campmates. Following the above point... who doesn't Arthur hang out with much? The manly men of the gang; the very people social mores suggest he ought to be hanging out with. Bill, Micah, Joe, Cleet, and even Dutch. (To some extent, this includes John and Sean, but I'd say John sort of lives at the edges of gang life anyway, and Sean is, well, Sean.) Conversely, which male gang members does Arthur hang out with a lot? Sweet little bookish Lenny, a wordy, positive-energy, breezy intellectual who has just barely become an adult. Introspective, soft-voiced, long-haired Charles, who is traditionally masculine by some standards (strong, usually calm, can be standoffish) but decidedly NOT so when his appearance/demeanor is judged by the white Christian American male standards that began to dominate masculinity concepts in the later decades of the 1800s.

Algernon. Oh, my, Algernon. Arthur clearly dislikes Algernon's fancy, loud, outrageous clothing. But weirdly, he seems to like Algernon, not just tolerate him. Arthur in fact goes through significant personal discomfort to avoid hurting Algernon's feelings (the awful hat, the POST.MAN. sobbing), and he immediately says yes to having tea with him without any awareness of a coming business proposition, though half the time Arthur clearly has no fucking clue what Algernon is talking about. I am left to conclude that on some level, he just enjoys hearing Algernon talk, which is word-for-word what he says while listening to the Girls argue about romance novels ("I just like listening to you [all] talk." Hello????). I mean, for God's sake, he meets the man while he's choking to death on a nut at a fancy party, and the second thing Algernon does is tell him he looks like a guy who wears a corset. If anything was going to set off the boiling defensiveness of a dude who worships masculinity, thirty seconds with Algie would have done it.

Margaret, Mistress of Fucking Danger. It's pretty clear Arthur doesn't like Margaret. But that has little to do with Margaret's femininity & cross-dressing (this doesn't faze him at all when Charles Châtenay does it; more on that below) and everything to do with Margaret's deceptiveness and highly selective memory. It's not until the bullshittery unveils itself that Arthur starts getting visibly pissed off at Margaret. Conversely, Arthur does seem more positively disposed toward Sally Nash. (That said, this quest has a lot of problems and poorly aged lines that are depressingly easy for a politically motivated jerkoff to soundbite and miscast as Rockstar being pro-bigot. Cue 800 heterobnoxious gamerbro ARTHUR MORGAN ULTIMATE ANTI SNOWFLAKE SIGMA MALE OF THE WEST YouTube videos.)

Albert, my beloved. Rather than goading him to man up, Arthur tries to persuade Albert (whom he very obviously likes) to pick safer animal photography subjects, e.g. horses, and doesn't insult him for his lack of wilderness knowledge (an aspect of traditional manliness that is highly relevant to Arthur's lifestyle). You'd think he would tear into him for this shortcoming, given that they share so many of the same interests and passions, and IMO his genuine eagerness to serve as Albert's protector and facilitate his art is highly convincing evidence that Arthur does not necessarily view masculinity as a net positive.

Arthur is a basic goddamn boyfriend-hater. He pretty much harshly disapproves of every husband, boyfriend, male partner, etc. in the game and is very, very vocal about it... except one extremely unlikely candidate: Beau Gray. Weak, dandy artist Beau Gray, whom Arthur takes one look at and promptly hands the only gun to Penelope. Arthur is curt and impish to Beau at times, but helps him in his relationship troubles willingly (without collecting repayment), and seemingly for no other reason than the fact he can see that soft, fearful Beau is genuinely head-over-heels in love with Penelope. Is he projecting his own young love for Mary onto them? Maybe/probably, but Beau could not possibly be more different from young Arthur, and Arthur seems to believe this difference will make him a good husband for Penelope. A good husband, in Arthur's view, seems to simply be a man who ardently loves his beloved, regardless of his ability to provide for/protect her, and whose only goal in life is to live that life at her side. This is completely antithetical to mainstream late-1800s views on what constitutes a good husband and what it means to be a man.

Châtenay. Arthur shows us some of the most obvious delight and mirth he experiences in the game when he's hanging out with Charles "Allo Boys" Châtenay, who is straight up in drag a third of that time. This baffles Arthur a little, but doesn't disgust or repel him. I've written about this mission elsewhere at greater length because it is one of my favorite disasters, but it's worth mentioning here too.

Trelawny. Arthur clearly enjoys Trelawny despite his grumbly claims to the contrary. Most of these "claims" are just Arthur's established way of affectionate teasing (he does much the same with Uncle and Pearson, both of whom he genuinely likes). His authentic gripes about Trelawny are all about a perceived flightiness/lack of loyalty to the gang, not about his flamboyance. And even these gripes are half-assed, in Arthur's usual way.

Bluegills & Daisy Chains. One of the most genuine moments of softness we have with Arthur in RDR2 is when he takes Little Jack out of the camp to go fishing. Arthur's usually a much truer version of himself when he doesn't have to play the Big Bad Gang Lieutenant role, but this moment of escape is especially important, and not just because Arthur reveals his fondness for children and his natural understanding of how to talk to them. I notice this: Arthur tries to gently teach Jack about fishing, and Jack is completely fucking uninterested. Jack prefers to make flower chains for his mommy. Arthur doesn't scold him for his drifting attention or his lack of attraction to masculine past-times; on the contrary, Arthur goes out of his way to encourage and protect Jack's natural sweetness and innocence. That's a wild stance for a murdering outlaw to have re: the "next generation" of his family. Hell, I've encountered far too many 21st century dads in my own family who flip their shit when their tiny sons prefer hanging out with women & partaking in "womanly" hobbies like art, cooking, and flowers rather than hunting and fishing.

"...and be a god damn man." This seems like classic masculine bluster on the surface, but what does this keynote line mean in the context in which Arthur says it? Well, it's complicated. This statement serves as (a) Arthur's goodbye to John, (b) Arthur's final call to action for John, and (c) Arthur's last wish for his brother's life. But it certainly does not mean standing and fighting or being tough; i.e., "dying like a man." In that moment, it means abandoning all masculine bluster and revenge fantasy, and running away: leaving violence and fighting and brotherhood and all that crap behind to simply be there (alive, present) for your wife and son.

The Best Women People. Who are the best people Arthur knows, by his own crystal-clear declaration? Abigail and Sadie. Sadie's a rough-and-tumble, super-violent gunslinger and Abigail's a stubborn thief & a former sex worker (in the time Arthur has known her), but they are also, critically, two wives: the most traditional feminine role for a woman of the time period (and indeed perhaps most of human history once the concept of "wife" subsumed that of "mother"). It's also important to note that Arthur doesn't truly give up on Dutch until Dutch abandons Abigail, which serves as Arthur's point of no return. The other men left in the gang at this point specifically note that she's "just a woman" and not worth going back for. Arthur is straight-up shocked by all of this; he obviously considers her among the most worthwhile and value-having members of the gang, and certainly one of the most core members of the gang. Without any hesitation or doubt, the instant it's clear Dutch is cutting Abigail loose, Arthur declares: "That's that, then."

tl;dr: Arthur unironically prefers hanging out with women and queens and I love that for them.

[elysiansparadise]

Hi Elysian ! ✨

First I wanted to tell you that I really love your posts 💖

I have seen that you have your ask open and you haven't post about Neptune in the 2th house so can you please describe Neptune in the 2th ?

I have this placement and wanted to know more about it.

Thanks a lot/ Merci beaucoup ✨

Kiss from France 💖

Hello love, thanks for loving my posts. Of course I can describe this beautiful placement. A kiss right back at you. 💖

Neptune in the 2nd house

These people may not place as much importance on money, they feel that the money a person may have does not define their value and quality as a person. They care about money just enough and necessary to know that it is crucial to have a decent life in which they do not lack anything, but they consider that there are things more important or of greater value than this. They stand out for their generosity and altruism, being people who can seek to help those most in need or provide support to those who do not have enough money. They can really enjoy buying details for others without worrying much about the price. Since this is the house of values, the presence of Neptune here indicates that they place a lot of emphasis on their spiritual world, keeping in mind values ​​such as devotion, tolerance and empathy. You can spend a lot of time investing in your spiritual growth or expanding your knowledge in these areas. They are likely to pay for services such as aura cleansing, tarot readings or other things related to esoteric topics. Likewise, they can enjoy buying things related to art, paintings, notebooks or things that help them develop their creativity in some way, such as instruments.

This is a house linked to self-esteem, so it is likely that these natives are very humble and even shy people when it comes to receiving compliments, not knowing exactly how to take them. These people dream big with the idea of ​​having everything they once lacked, and not only in the material field, but also emotionally, especially that feeling of stability that they may not have had when they were young. These people should be cautious when lending money, because even if their intentions are good, they may more frequently encounter people along the way who will not pay them on time or who do not pay them at all. This house reflects everything we acquire since we were born, so it can represent those talents that we have since we were young. Many people with this placement may have artistic talents, such as painting, singing, music or some other branches of art. Likewise, it can tell us about spiritual gifts of any kind. It is likely that these people can use their talents as a way to generate or invest their money.

One of the things that these natives should be careful about is their disorganization, it is crucial that they be very organized, because they have a tendency to forget where they leave things, if Neptune is making multiple tense aspects [especially with 2nd house ruler or Venus], they can even forget bank passwords or they can even lose documents related to estate. They have a rich inner world, feeling very disconnected from the things or people around them, they may feel that they do not give importance to things that others usually do. They highly value the human quality behind things, they do not like to buy items or things that, for example, are experimented on animals or that affect or damage the environment. Another thing they value a lot is inner wealth, both their own and with others, as I mentioned previously, they give value to things that others hardly put emphasis on.

[goodluckclove]

Stop Calling Yourself an Aspiring Author: A Proposition

So this post is dedicated to @dreambigdreamz, who asked me a question about when you can stop calling yourself an aspiring author. I had to wait until I could go to sleep to properly answer, because this is going to be a long one, probably. I'm actually doing this before I get to work for the day, because if I could get one goddamned person to stop labeling themselves like this I will feel success for at least three days.

It's a question for new writers - the difference between a writer and an author. If you Google the difference it appears there are two camps:

Writer and author are synonyms

You are only an author if you publish your work/write as a career

This is odd to me already. It's odd and it's immediately gatekeep-y, and it's so fucking surreal that ours is the only artistic field that has this strange distinction. For most other outlets there's still a separation between hobbyist and professional, but that's considered optional as far as I've seen.

Someone who paints or does digital art isn't likely to call themselves a hobbyist artist, even if they aren't doing it as their main source of income. They're just an artist.

If someone practices the piano but isn't actively in a performing band or symphony, they probably don't call themselves an aspiring pianist. They're already doing it. They're a pianist.

I briefly considered cook versus chef, but in that context cook doesn't necessarily mean amateur. There are line cooks and prep cooks and fry cooks and sauté cooks who work professionally. I have the qualifications of a prep or line cook, but I'm currently only cooking meals at home. So does that mean I'm an aspiring cook? That's weird. That doesn't sound right.

So by this point it should be clear that I find it deeply reductive to say that you can only call yourself an author if you've professionally published a work of writing. Maybe that was the case, like, a hundred years ago? Even then, though, one of the definitions of author is a verb describing the act of writing something. You could author a scientific paper. You could author a poem.

It's 2002. The scope of what it means to publish is infinitely vaster than it was in the days of Virginia Woolf or Ernest Hemingway. You could traditionally publish your novel - that's still an option. But you could also indie-publish. Or self-publish. Or produce your own zines or chapbooks and distribute them online. Or send our newsletters on platforms like Substack. Or serialize through websites like Wattpad, Tapas, Itch.io, Patreon, AO3, or even tumblr.

I never called myself an author, but my reasons have nothing to do with whether or not I've been published. I prefer writer, as it has a more versatile feel that tracks whether I'm working on a novel or a poem or a play. But that's beside the point.

Personally, I'm in the first camp. Writer and author are essentially synonymous, only in my eyes an author is someone who writes fiction or nonfiction prose. That's it. Have you done that? Cool. Good job no longer being "aspiring".

If you have the words aspiring author in your life somewhere, there's a good chance you're actively gatekeeping yourself from feeling good enough to do your own thing. Why not replace it with something like the following?

future bestseller

soon-to-be published

new author/writer

growing author/writer

developing author/writer

practicing author/writer

author/writer in training

just author/writer

If someone does the whole "you're a writer? what have you published?" welcome to the conversation that all writers have to tolerate at some point. People are dumb. People typically don't know our industry and how it functions, and that's fine. Just smile and nod and shrug your way out of the conversation.

Yes, there's infighting within writers who should very much be spending less time arguing who gets to wear the nametag and who doesn't. Those people are lame dipshits who should shut the fuck up and get back to writing. If you have a passion for writing, be it fanfic or scripts or short stories or novels, you are my peer and colleague. I might not like the structure or content of your writing - which is fine, by the way - but I would never even say that you aren't a writer holy shit.

I don't care if you use every genre and trope that I find trite and excessive. If you genuinely care about the stories you tell and you still present yourself as an aspiring author, you have a duty to take yourself more seriously than that.

You are a writer. You are an author. This should not be a question.

We need to move past this and start asking ourselves the real questions that come after you answer "Am I an author". Am I a safe author? Am I an advocate and an ally? Am I a supportive member of the community? Am I still learning? Am I a capable author? Am I adaptable? Am I resourceful? Am I determined?

I'm running out of steam here. I need the writers here, especially the younger writers, to move past this stage of their creative careers as quickly as fucking possible. I was there too. I get it. And I'm telling you it's time to soak the label of aspiring so as to loosen the adhesive, gently peel it off, and throw it in the trash forever. Don't even keep it for sentimental reasons to look back on later.

Toss it. Burn it. Eat it. It is not helping you.

Okay that's all. You should close this now and write three hundred words of whatever the fuck you want. I love you.

[eldelascosquillas-blog]

Hello, I came here to let off some steam.

Because some users made me angry, I will give a warning: 🚫 From now on, I will not only block minors, but also users who don't put their age in their profile. 🚫 (It doesn't matter if they follow me or just interact).

Also, Thank you very much to all the people who have sent me a message to tell me nice things, but from now on I will limit who can send me messages due to some things that happened recently.

I was going to post a screenshot of the messages sent by a user but nah, I'm less angry now and I don't want to make this more uncomfortable, and honestly I'm someone who lives bitter every day and I don't want to tolerate shit anymore, I mean users who don't respect my conditions, nor me as a person and artist. I get tired of forcing kindness with toxic users, but I don't give a fuck anymore, I feel better being stricter.

Thanks for your attention ✨

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Mirion Malle’s “So Long Sad Love”

On July 14, I'm giving the closing keynote for the fifteenth HACKERS ON PLANET EARTH, in QUEENS, NY. Happy Bastille Day! On July 20, I'm appearing in CHICAGO at Exile in Bookville.

In Mirion Malle's So Long Sad Love, a graphic novel from Drawn and Quarterly, we get an all-too-real mystery story: when do you trust the whisper network that carries the fragmentary, elliptical word of shitty men?

https://drawnandquarterly.com/books/so-long-sad-love/

Cleo is a French comics creator who's moved to Montreal, in part to be with Charles, a Quebecois creator who helps her find a place in the city's tight-knit artistic scene. The relationship feels like a good one, with the normal ups and downs, but then Cleo travels to a festival, where she meets Farah, a vivacious and talented fellow artist. They're getting along great…until Farah discovers who Cleo's boyfriend is. Though Farah doesn't say anything, she is visibly flustered and makes her excuses before hurriedly departing.

This kicks off Cleo's hunt for the truth about her boyfriend, a hunt that is complicated by the fact that she's so far from home, that her friends are largely his friends, that he flies off the handle every time she raises the matter, and by her love for him.

There's a term for men like Charles: a "missing stair." "Missing stair" is a metaphor for someone in a social circle who presents some kind of persistent risk to the people around them, who is accommodated rather than confronted:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Missing_stair

The metaphor goes like this: you're at a party and every time someone asks where the bathroom is, another partygoer directs them to the upper floor and warns them that one of the stairs is missing, and if they don't avoid that tread, they will fall through and be gravely injured. In this metaphor, a whole community of people have tacitly decided to simply accept the risk that someone who is forgetful or new to the scene will fall through the stair – no one has come forward to just fix that stair.

The origins of this term are in BDSM circles, and the canonical "missing stair" is a sexual predator, but from the outset, it's referred to all kinds of people with failings that present some source of frustration or unhappiness to those around them, from shouters to bigots to just someone who won't help do the dishes after a dinner party:

https://pervocracy.blogspot.com/2012/06/missing-stair.html

We all know a few missing stairs, and anyone who's got even a little self-reflexivity must wonder from time to time if they're not also a missing stair, at least to some people in their lives. After all, friendship always entails some accommodation, and doubly so love – as Dan Savage is fond of saying, "There is no person who is 'The One' for you – the best you can hope for is the '0.6' that you can round up to 'The One,' with a lot of work."

And at least some missing stairs aren't born – they're made. Everyone screws up, everyone's got some bad habits, everyone's got some blind spots about what others expect of them and how others perceive us. When the people around us make bad calls about whether to let us skate on our faults and when to confront us, those faults fester and multiply and calcify. This is compounded in long-tenured relationships that begin in our youth, when we are still figuring out our boundaries – the people who we give a pass to when we're young and naive can become a fixture in our lives despite characteristics that, as adults, we wouldn't tolerate in someone who is new to our social scene.

To make all this even more complicated, there's the role that power plays in all this. Many missing stairs are keenly attuned to power dynamics and present a different face to people who have some authority – whether formal or tacit – to sanction them. This is why so many of the outings of #MeToo predators provoked mystified men to say, "Gosh, they never acted that way around me – I had no idea."

These men aren't necessarily clueless. There's a predator who once traveled in my circles, and when he was outed, it wasn't just men who were shocked. My professional and personal life includes a large cohort of socially and professionally powerful women to whom this "missing stair" presented an impeccable face on every occasion. None of the people this guy looked up to ever witnessed his behavior firsthand, and for complicated reasons, none of the lower status (younger, less experienced, and not exclusively female) people whom he preyed upon came to us.

Which brings me back to Cleo and Charles, and the mystery of what Charles did to Farah in art school, many years before. The people in Charles's circle have an explanation: Farah was Charles's first heavy crush, and he courted her in ways that crossed the line into harassment. But – according to Charles's friends – this was a temporary condition that Charles outgrew, and it was only later, when Charles was in a healthier relationship with someone who reciprocated his affections, that Farah retaliated by attacking him to their small art-school circle.

This is just plausible enough – Charles was young, still figuring stuff out, he made a misstep – that Cleo is able to console herself with it. But as Charles grows more irritable and belittling of her, and as Cleo's friends gently encourage her to dig further rather than burying her lingering doubts, a much uglier truth comes into view.

Malle handles this all so deftly, showing how Cleo and her friends all play archetypal roles in the recurrent missing stair dynamic. It's a beautifully told story, full of charm and character, but it's also a kind of forensic re-enactment of a disaster, told from an intermediate distance that's close enough to the action that we can see the looming crisis, but also understand why the people in its midst are steering straight into it.

This transitions into a third act where Cleo leaves Montreal and finds herself in the midst a very different social dynamic of people who have figured out a far healthier way to manage their interpersonal problems. This short conclusion is powerfully satisfying, showing how it's possible to live without missing stairs and without the immediate expulsion of anyone who has a "problematic" moment.

The missing stair phenomenon would be so much easier to deal with if every missing stair started out as an irredeemable monster. We could fix all those stairs and declare ourselves done. But – as Malle illustrates – there's a reason it's so hard to fix those missing stairs. Every good friendship has some give and take – but every missing stair takes too much. Knowing the difference is a skill you learn through hard experience, not one you're born with. Learning when to call someone out, and when to call them in, is a hard curriculum – and it's even harder to know when to keep trying to help the people in your life be better selves, and when to protect the other people in your life from their worst selves.

Malle's book is packed with subtlety and depth, romance and heartbreak, subtext that carries through the dialog (in marvelous translation from the original French by Aleshia Jensen) and the body language in Malle's striking artwork.

Support me this summer on the Clarion Write-A-Thon and help raise money for the Clarion Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers' Workshop!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/25/missing-stair/#the-fog-of-love

[skinnypaleangryperson]

My heart is broken over this gray world and this life dedicated to slavery by selfish people who are just playing sheep differently taking control of me and paying me so little that I can't even have a decent personal life to make up for crushed creative dreams. I hurt myself with my own imagination and how vivid it is, the TV shows that I would have liked to work on an extended with my passion and ideas, the artistry the lights, the emotion the storytelling, the storyboards and the artistic lighting that I work on every day simply because it's all that makes sense to me. These images, thoughts, storytelling, emotions, everything where I pour all of my desperation of what I wish the humanity and connection that my life would have into a couple of iPad drawings every day in the corner of an empty bedroom.

It comes across as melodramatic posting about it online, but if you were to live a day in my life with having nothing except for my raw isolated imagination in such a repetitive, soulless, compassionless gray world, where I have no connection to anyone anymore, and no one that I can share anything with and convinced I will never have a true friendship or relationship with anyone outside of baseline tolerance at best again, on top of failed motherhood and a failed creative career, you would be crying out on the internet every second you got the chance to. I haven't wanted to live this life for the longest time that I could remember, and I will never want to again. In a sense, thank God nobody cares and that I can just post about it at whatever whim that I want throughout the miserable day, because this is the only place left where I can still feel somewhat human, and where I can just be as unashamedly detailed about every single depressed and morbidly despairing thought, share some of my work, even if it's only to myself just to prove that it even exists outside of my own sick corner of the world, and generally to feel seen for a little while, Even if only by myself, which is what me and the majority of people in working class America have, with no way out, because we're not "special", And if you have an artistic vision it will break your heart more than anything else.

I especially love this scene that I came up with it during my on maladaptive daydreaming lately with my family with BoJack and Samantha and Harper. The storylines that I come up with his family and with our girls are always incredibly vivid every single day and they both still simultaneously break my heart, because I know that the vision that I share in the passion that I have and my want to share in storytelling will only ever be an ongoing sickly headspace in the back of my head while the gray reality of a life that has long since over if it ever began goes on around me without change. The beauty of the family life that I wanted to have on top of the creative dreams that I have that has projected itself into the muddled mental disorder of maladaptive daydreaming of my beautiful family with Bojack both is the only thing that keeps me going throughout the empty slave hours of my life, which is so lonely that most people I'm convinced would not be able to live it, well at the same time fills me with such a beauty and meaning taking it in that I couldn't ever let it go.

[russellsppttemplates]

Hiii girl 🪻💐! First, nice to meet you xx ! I really love your vibe. Love purple pp 💜! Can I request a small os, please? I saw you wrote monegasque reader and all cute os. Can I ask you (you choose) Lando/Charles/Oscar with inked!reader (like full arms tattoos and stuff) it’s always wag so ✨perfect clean✨, I’m tired to see the clean vibe, I want to be delulu with rockie vibe, feminine tattooed wag, normal wag 😬. Topic could be : new tattoo with driver reaction or handle with people opinion. Thanks 💜🪻 if you’re not feeling to write it, it’s okay too. Have a nice day xx

Note: hiiii! Welcome to this little corner of the Internet I made along with everyone who follows this blog! Thank you - this is supposed to be as much a safe pace for you as it is for me 🫶 I hope you had a good day, too! 🫶

"Someone spotted you when you left the tattoo studio", Oscar said as he stepped inside the apartment after having spent the day in the Center, noticing you were wearing a cardigan even though it was a warm day out, "they posted a picture online".

"So it's not a surprise, is it?", you slumped your shoulders slightly, shrugging the cardigan off.

"I don't know what you got, so it's still a surprise, sweetheart", he smiled, hugging you and being mindful of the wrap around your arm.

Oscar sat on the sofa and allowed you to model the new tattoos for him. Your right arm didn't seem to have any new ink to it, the same three tattoos you had in there still looking beautiful after two years. You like the idea of having one arm slightly more bare than the other so your right arm only had those three on the inner side of it, peeking through whenever you were sleeveless tops. Your left arm was the one where the tattoos were the most noticeable, the ink pieces scattered along the extension of the limb.

"I got this one, it's a bee", you pointed to the inner part of your arm, "it represents my safe hive, the people who are always there for me even if I'm not there in person", you explained. You had moved in with Oscar a couple of months ago and, more than ever, you spent long periods of time away from your family since you travelled to see your boyfriend race as much as you could, "I know I can fly away, but no matter how far and how hard times can be, I'll always be able to come back".

"It looks so pretty, the detail on the wings is so precise", Oscar pointed out.

"I chose the artist at that studio because she is great at doing the fine line tatoos with red ink", you began again, smoothing out through wrap so Oscar could see, "it's a heart with some flowers blooming from it", you pointed to the anatomical drawing, "whenever I set myself to do something, I pour my heart and soul into it, and my intuition hasn't failed me, so it's a little symbol to that".

"The red is somehow both subtle against your skin and so eye catching as well, I think it's the contrast with this one here", Oscar lightly touched an older tattoo you had next to the new one.

"Then I got this one, which I am quite nervous to show you, actually", you admitted, looking at your right wrist and covering it for the mean time, "I know people are really fussy with having a relationship tattooed on you because things can change so fast, but I don't like to think like that - my tattoos represent times of my life and things that happened - and if anything happens and I can't absolutely tolerate it, I can always remove it", you shrugged your shoulders before uncovering it.

Oscar held your hand and inspected it gently - the thin knot was both black and red, symbolising you and Oscar with the different colours but tied together seamlessly.

"I had to get it on my right one because I wear my watch on the left", you mumbled and a little twinge of nervousness could be spotted in your tone given that he hadn't said anything, "do you like it?", you bit the bullet.

"I love it, it's so beautiful, delicate and feminine too", he smiled, kissing around it.

"I also got a lightning bolt here", you twisted your wrist, "this one is just black and it's quite tiny, but it's about all the times I insisted and persisted - my stubbornness too - and how much I value that in people", you smiled.

"You're stubborn? Never would have guessed it", your boyfriend teased, earning your giggles and an eyeroll from you, "the line is so beautiful, she did an amazing job!", he complimented.

"I also got my first neck tattoo", you mumbled, "well, it's the first time I do it there, not sure if that means I'll do another because it hurt a bit more than I expected", you blushed, letting Oscar pull your hair back so he could see it.

The red inked word was aligned with your ear, "I chose the word rare because it's a devotion to myself, my self-love - accepting that I'm not perfect and that that is okay - I love myself the way I am and it's also a lot thanks to you", you tried to keep the tears pooling on your eyes from falling, "you loved me for me, all of me, no matter how many times people liked to point out any of my tattoos or how I don't fit the 'wag role', and I want a reminder of it everyday", you smiled.

Oscar cupped your jaw gently, careful of the sore area as he kissed your lips in a hard, long, searing kiss, joining your foreheads afterwards, "I love you, Y/N, all of you", he whispered.

(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)

[robogart]

no hate at all whatsoever, just an inquiring mind who has never understood adoptables or things like that - are you not concerned that people will just take the outfits you designed and use them for their characters anyway? or, derivatives of it? what kind of rights do you have as the artist and like, what makes it a worthwhile business for you?

Adoptables are honestly something I'm extremely new to, so I feel like I'm not as informed in the business of it as others are (so feel free to chime in anyone who has bought/makes adoptables and has more insight)!

When it comes to people just taking the designs, I feel like you could argue that's a concern for any piece of art/design that's out here on the internet. As wild as the internet is, I truly believe most people are cool and see that ripping off a design from someone is unkind and hurtful. And more often than not, people will notice if someone plagiarized an artists work and will reach out to the artists to let them know.

On the whole, I think for everyone 1 person who will steal a design, there are at least 100+ people who think that's shitty and will back up an artist for it. Word gets out and for as big as the internet is, the art spaces and communities are quite small. People look out for one another here and grifters and art theft isn't tolerated in these spaces.

For rights it varies for everyone, but I usually give personal/non-commercial rights (although I'm open for buying commercial rights for some adoptables) and I retain the ability to use the design for promotional work (I don't usually end up doing this, but I put it in just in case)! And also I ask to be credited as well.

I enjoy making adoptables simply because I like designing things and instead of having them sit in a folder, it's nice to put them up for sale so they can get a new life somewhere! I wouldn't call it a huge part of my business right now because I'm still pretty fresh at it and do it rather infrequently (and I'm still learning a lot about it)! But it's fun nonetheless and if someone grabs a design, it's always really cool and super appreciated! 🙏💖

I hope this helped answer the question a little bit for you! I apologize again that I'm pretty shallow on my information for adoptables themselves, but I hope I could share a little insight with at least the bits that I know! 🙏💕💖

[oleander-nin]

Hello my lovelies! Just a quick little PSA in regards to something that happened to @yanteetle.

If you're going to steal work, at least give credit. Reposting work is already awful enough, but doing so w/out credit? I know this most likely wasn't y'all, but this is just a warning for everyone.

Yesterday, Yanteetle discovered some of her work had been posted on YouTube, Tiktok, and Wattpad. On YouTube(the main focus of this), two were edits, and one was voice acting. Both of these videos relied heavily on her work, and two of them got up to ten thousand views, with the other amassing one thousand two hundred views. That is twenty-one thousand views, or people, seeing her work and enjoying it, all without knowing who it's from in the first place.

One of the videos even had hundreds of comments asking who the artist was, and the only thing they(the poster) gave as a response was that it was "on Tumblr".

This person knows the art isn't theirs, knows where they got it from and how to find it, yet still never once credited Teets for her artwork. I don't know what goes through their brain when you do that, or how they can care so little for the original artist, but never do this.

The second instance I'm most mad about is the third video(the voice acting). This one was just someone going through and voice every artwork Teets made, and the title of the video makes it seem like their claiming it to be their own AU(When I first saw that, I assumed they were just going to base an AU off of her work, but NOPE! It's just them voice dubbing her comics.)

I checked the description, hoping they would add something there. NOPE. Even in the comments, only one person asked and they never responded. I DID however find a people who were:

Encouraging them to make more(which would mean more misuse and stealing of Teets or others work)

Telling them they were going to make videos based off this video, which means more spreading of it because they all promised to credit the thief

Praising 'their' work and their voice, which is directly showing them they can get away with what they're doing(not really to the fault of the commenters, but I digress)

Call me overbearing or crazy, but this does not sit will with me in the slightest. Yanteetle never had to post. She never had to take requests. She never had to put as much effort into her work as she does, yet everyone takes it for granted, and people take her work.

Some of you may be thinking "Oh, but didn't Teets say you could repost her work?"

And to that I hit you on the head because her full clause on usage of her work is "Disclaimer: reposting is fine as long as proper credit is given, but tracing and claiming it as your own will not be tolerated."

In my opinion, every single one of these are taking Teets work as their own. Until you give her name, there is no other belief people can have other than the assumption you made it yourself. Humans find patterns and assume things on default, this isn't on the shoulders of the consumers. I already have my own opinions about her reposting disclaimer(which I've kind of discussed with her, but it's her choice), but even if it were stricter, I can guarantee you this still would've happened.

Taking work without credit is not a cool thing to do, and will earn you a lot of hate and problems you probably don't want to deal with. I personally go through every account that follows and likes my stuff because I want to see who's interacting with me. Do I think any of y'all would do this? No, not really. But you are the only audience I have. Do not take work from others, and especially don't do it without permission and credit.

If anyone has a similar problem and needs someone to speak up for them, just hit me up and I'll try my best.

Thank you for listening and have a good day.

[abbyfmc]

Yandere ¡Freak! x ¡Female! Reader:

Warning: Mentions of kidnapping, murder, yandere behavior, obsessive love, etc.

His name will be Axel (A/N: nothing special with the name, I just picked one at random).

He was in the circus from a very young age; from childhood; he was probably born to parents who worked in one, or started working in one recently as an adult. Depending on his condition, disability or extraordinary ability; He can have different jobs in his role such as: magician, fortune teller, acrobat, illusionist, singer and musician, trapeze artist, dancer, clown, mime, beast tamer, etc.

May have a different rank, status or type of treatment in the circus, depending on the context.

He loves for you to watch his acts at the circus, and if he is in a freestanding tent, he will LOVE it when you go to see his act.

He always does his best in his shows, especially if you are there.

If he is a fairly respected freak: He will get along well with most, or all, of his peers; he would be treated with respect and would use this to put on a friendly facade. *6.1. If he is a fairly discriminated freak: He would be the classic marginalized person that everyone avoids, does not take into account or mistreats, and because of that, he would see you as a light that he does not want to let go under any circumstances.

I have always seen various types of freaks in these kinds of circuses/fairs/carnivals; among them are: *7.1. He who is missing one or more limbs: Has difficulty walking due to the absence of one or more limbs. *7.2. The one with unusual size: He could be someone with gigantism or dwarfism (N/A: something that today would not be the case). *7.3. The one with rubber bones: He is very flexible. His works or shows are mostly acrobats, dancers, trapeze artists, etc.; although sometimes he can work as clowns or something like that, depending on his talents and abilities. *7.4. The one with superhuman strength: They are usually men whose muscles are very resistant and noticeable, being able to lift very heavy people and objects. *7.5. The miserable: Maybe he has malformations on the face or body. They treat him horribly and contemptuously, while they push Axel aside or avoid him. *7.6. Conjoined twins: Axel and his possible sibling/twin are twins who were born almost completely formed, except that they were born attached to each other either on the side of the hip; by the back; through the abdomen, or, they were born with two heads on the same body. It may be the case that only one twin is a yandere(Axel) and the other is not, which would lead to big fights and arguments between them; On the other hand, if they are both yanderes, they would fight or argue about what to do or how to approach you and get your attention, as well as how to eliminate their love rivals.

Whatever his physical condition or ability, he will not tolerate humiliation and ridicule coming from you, because for him, it would be like a very strong betrayal.

He can also be some mythological creature (if we use fantasy themes) such as an angel; a demon; naga/lamia; mermaid/merman, or some kind of faun, centaur, etc. You can have different types of dealings with the caretaker/tamer of beasts/mythological creatures.

HE HATES it when you leave the circus at the end of each performance, or when you like another show or act more than his own.

He would hate for others to notice or make fun of you.

He would also hate that you are with friends, and that you go with them and not with him/her.

He would appreciate your gifts, cheers, applause, compliments and praise from the audience. Axel would really value it.

If he needs a volunteer for his shows, Axel would choose you as long as he didn't involve you in dangerous acts.

If you are a freak like him and you are part of the circus, he would spy on you when you are in your tent, dressing room or rehearsing a show; In addition to being very jealous and obsessive, to the point of not letting others talk to you.

When the circus leaves for another city, he would then beg for you to go with him and if you refuse, he would kidnap you.

If it's a circus in the style of the songs "Dark Wood Circus" or "Circus Monster", then it occurs to me that Axel could have been kidnapped as a child, and was forced to be a freak; and whatever they surgically did to his body, he is forced to perform in shows (so as not to receive punishment) and you would be like a light in the middle of his hell, so he would become obsessed with you . If the circus kidnaps you, they would try to force you to be with them.

In a Dark Wood Circus style context, he would come to see you in your cage, talk to you, and if someone hurts you, Axel will swear to himself that he will kill your attacker without mercy and that… one day they could escape to a better world together.

Otherwise, he will NOT let you run away from the circus…or from him. -The end. So, what do you think about this?