#feel free to interpret this as you may

[alienssstufff]

Transcript of q!Slimcicle’s conversation with ElQuackity after the QSMP Dinner because I’m going crazy:

TIMESTAMP 27-28/07/2023 Slimecicle POV, 2:05:44 

Q: Why did you do that? Why did you do that?

S: Because it started as this thing between you and me and me trying to vicariously live through this weird family fantasy and uh, it kind of evolved man. and Gegg.. I was just Gegg and Gegg was just me. Gegg was something in me and for some reason now I dont feel that thing anymore. It feels like I uh feels like Gegg's gone

Q: But Gegg is my son. Gegg is my son

S: Well there's these lil guys [gestures to the Gegg clones]

Q: You can't. You can't leave this behind

S: We shouldn't have done that. We shouldnt have - I'm glad we got Gegg because of that but uh... Idk what he was

Q: No nononono you're viewing it the wrong way I think there's more to Gegg.

S: maybe there was

Q: What are you going to do now?

S: Well uhm... Guess I'm going to so something I'm pretty scared to do for a while. Just... Try and be me

Q: Are you sure?

S: No. no I'm not... [they get distracted by a poppy for a bit]

Q: Is that it for Gegg?

S: I think that depends on all of us. I didn't always have control over what was going on when Gegg was out, but I know one thing. I know that Gegg wanted change, and Gegg wanted what was best for everyone, and Gegg wanted to know - I think Gegg knows that inside all of us there's a spark of Gegg and uhm. Maybe there's a lil spark in Gegg in you too. 

S: And at the end of the day I'm just Gegg's campaign manager.

Note that ElQuackity was also whispering to Slime in chat throughout this

Q: (Help me win this) Q: (I have special priveleges no other would have) Q: (Keep talking) (Don’t make it suspicious) Q: (I’ll introduce you to some people just help me) Q: (Just include the word mariachi in some phrase If you say yes)

To which Slime does.

[turtleblogatlast]

Thinking about the Don Suave scene and what it means in terms of LGBTQ+ representation because my brain does nothing if not torment me with random topics to ramble about on the regular.

Anyway, I just wanted to ramble about why I like the scene but to get it out of the way - the scene can very easily be interpreted in so many different ways, and all of them are valid. I personally see it as Leo having at least some attraction to a man. And the following is an explanation of my own interpretation and thoughts on it and what it means especially for Leo’s portrayal in the grand scheme of things.

Long-winded interpretation under the cut!

Now, to start with, it’s important to me that in the scene Leo looks at Don Suave in the very beginning and then for the entirety of the rest of the time the man is on screen, Leo’s eyes are closed. Yet, in the end, he is still visibly enamored with Don Suave, happily cuddling up to him as he’s being carried away.

You can very easily interpret this as Leo being spellbound and that’s honestly super valid and I believe he likely was at least somewhat in the beginning, but considering how fast he looked away and how he never looked again, I personally think it makes more sense to read it as Leo just finding the man attractive, at least somewhat. (For the record, I personally headcanon Rise Leo as bisexual with a heavy preference for men, but I want to be blunt when I say that any interpretation is valid. Literally any. Ace, pan, gay, bi, none of the above or a mixture of something new literally all of it is more than okay and fair. Hell you could even interpret this entire scene as more romantic attraction than physical and it would still work. Anything goes!! Don’t bother people, guys, really.)

The main reason I take this scene to be at the very least LGBTQ+ adjacent isn’t just because of how it’s portrayed, but because of who Leonardo is. Not in terms of Rise of the TMNT, but in terms of the entire Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles™️ franchise.

Leo’s a character who, while changing with each iteration, has still at his core been around for decades upon decades as “the blue one”. One fourth of the team. He’s the one most are going to look at as the Leader, and oftentimes he is the one closest to having the title of Main Character. Not to say the others aren’t just as important, but Leo’s presence in the A plots of basically all TMNT media is often something very main character-esque.

And that’s very, very important to note. Here we have a Main Character of a prolific and decades long-running franchise distributed by a children’s television network. You can play around with his and his brothers’ characters all you like, but there is always going to be challenges to dodge around, especially since this was still in 2018-2019.

For example, you can play around with their designs so long as they’re color coded turtles, but their sexualities? Now that’s tricky.

“But what about Hypno and Warren?” Not main characters and also they’re Rise originals. They have a lot more room to play around with than a character like Leo does. But even talking about main characters in the franchise, you could arguably have an easier time playing around with Donnie or Mikey’s sexualities than Leo or even Raph, as (unfortunately) the former two tend to get more B plots, so they’d likely have had a little more leeway (still not a lot though.)

So, where does this leave us?

It leaves us in a place where outright stating and/or showing undeniable proof of Leo’s attraction to men is very, very difficult. So, workarounds!

Workarounds like the entire Don Suave situation.

To be honest, as left up to interpretation and lowkey and deniable as it is, this whole scene means a lot to me because of who Leo is as a character. It’s just nice when we get so see even the bare bones of representation with characters that have been such a large part of pop culture for decades, y’know? Even if more would be so much nicer, this is better than I thought we’d ever get for these boys.

And, again, literally nothing I’ve said is the only way to interpret it, I’m more than happy when people interpret media on their own honestly, it’s just something I’ve been thinking of lately and I was wondering if others felt the same way.

Whatever you think when you interpret this scene or Rise Leo as a whole, I just thought this would be interesting to think about, even if it was ramble-y, haha.

[brambletakato]

Ok so in an ideal society Des fans would have their Des centered game, but now I’m genuinely curious… What do you want to see in a Des-focused game? Like pretend Level 5 made Des from the Professor Layton franchise have his own spifoff series (either similar or different from the origin), what would you love to see?

[steven-cartoons]

one thing I feel like some of y'all tend to forget is that effeminate behavior =/= feminine presentation

a character may have effeminate mannerisms and personality traits while still being masculine in their clothing and overall appearance

....

...aka....stede is the butch and ed is the femme !!

[nocentis]

Honeysuckle

⚶ ┆ Between his teeth and beneath his nails, an airy fruit light as love is bitten down to the rind. Even with his mouth full of pulp he finds himself desperate for her taste.

A sigh echoed and swallowed, kept locked in his chest like a secret. He held his breath until it burned; savored every hitch and every hum of her sacred song. Each curse spoken like a prayer, like praise; wept like gratitude wrenched raw from the soul — raked clean and spit out like the pit of a cherry. When he's forced to breathe, she is the hallowed riptide, and he would be blessed to drown in her lush.

Ripe as a peach at the crown of her cheeks; soft red flush so sticky sweet. Another of her colors comes to life in his mind. One shade closer to the divine.

⚶ ┆ Woven together like lace under the pale light of a waning moon. He can't be sure where he ends and she begins. She pierces straight through him like he belongs to her, and in some capacity, he knows that he does. There is no room left in his heart for desire of this nature. It has reached its bounds and collapsed inward on itself — a singularity the size of her that takes of these moments and stretches them infinitely, ever deeper, ever denser; inescapable.

Too much would never be enough and yet he counts every falling grain of timesand, tallies them up, and says his Hail Mary's in correspondence. Blessed is he for these hands to hold her, for these eyes to view her, for this mouth to speak her name. Blessed is he for the breath and the bread, the water, the whine.

Under his breath, to no god in particular, he issues his thanks.

"You're still awake." Her voice is strained by the small hours. The calm is sweeping her away and yet she remains afloat, waiting for the rise and fall of his chest to slow before she sinks into sleep. "Your train leaves early. You should rest."

His own voice is gravelly, thick with syrup, when he attempts to quell, "There will be another train. There is always another train."

There is nothing more important than this — her head on his chest and his fingers in her hair, scarlet as the sun's kiss and softer than silk.

She shifts so that she can look at him, and the nightglow catches the honey of her eye. "You should rest," she reiterates, and though she aims to chastise, he can feel her care bleeding through her touch.

"I will," he promises, though he chooses not to specify when. "I'm not ready for tomorrow."

He feels her hum before he hears it. Gentle as a lullaby, it dims his vision, and he finds a brief reprieve inside his eyelids.

"You're ready," she assures, succinct as ever.

"You're right," he concedes through a sigh, "I don't want this to end."

"Then don't end it," she slides her hand into his, weaves their fingers together in an airtight knit, "Water it. Let it grow. Keep it alive while we're apart."

He responds first through a light squeeze, a bit of humor trapped in his chest, and he can't deny that, "There are some things even I can't kill."

[abimee]

ruyan is literally so beautiful that i get ill looking at her

[altairsarts]

Hi! Just a forewarning that this is meant with no malintent!

I saw on that post that you reblogged about misgendering Frisk/Chara/Kris in AUs and your tags saying something about ‘anyone who does that didn’t understand the original story’. I’m not sure if this is entirely true, but I thought that with Frisk and Chara having they/them pronouns (or being nb) in the original game, was to allow a greater variety of people to play and be interested? I thought it was just to be sort of a placeholder, so that if someone who uses he/him plays the game, he could interpret Frisk as a male (for example)?

Also, I don’t understand why you wouldn’t want to interact with someone who makes an AU with an altered Frisk/Chara/Kris? If I’m going by my previously mentioned thought, then wouldn’t having an AU of a specifically female Frisk be that creator’s interpretation? But also, AUs aren’t supposed to be like the original, that’s the whole fun of it! If someone makes an AU where Undyne is transmasc and is in a relationship with Papyrus, then would that make a difference? Would that be offensive?

Making an AU is basically making a whole twisted group of OCs based off of characters, so why can’t they take their own creative liberties?

Also, just a side note if it matters, but I’m speaking as a she/they genderqueer.

Hi!! I don’t interact with people a bunch so I wasn’t expecting any questions lmao- but!! I’ll try to explain as best I can.

So the short of it is: they’re not supposed to be taken as a player insert. They exist as characters outside of the player’s influence and this is established for every single one of them. Deltarune even likes to remind you at every chance it gets that Kris isn’t you, and you aren’t them. The idea that they only use they/them pronouns so that people can choose is incorrect because they’re not blank slates.

The idea that these characters would only use they/them pronouns or be nonbinary because it’d allow people to choose is also transphobic because it implies that as long as a person is using they/them pronouns anyone can choose, regardless of whether that person is actually okay with it or not. You can’t go up to someone who uses they/them pronouns and say “you’re a man because I’m a man and I relate to your experiences”, that’s just,,, not how that works at all. Someone, even a fictional character, using they/them pronouns isn’t an automatic pass to choose a set of pronouns for them. This is what you are given, and this is what you use.

I wouldn’t want to interact with someone like that for a couple reasons: the above thing that I just said, being that having a nonbinary identity isn’t a placeholder so that any random stranger can choose what pronouns they’re most comfortable calling you. If you understand that these characters are characters and not inserts and you still decide to disregard the multiple times they’re referred to as they/them then you are being transphobic, and I won’t be around someone who is okay with that.

There’s also the simple fact that I can understand not being aware of Frisk not being a player insert, as it’s not made obvious until the end of the pacifist run, but Kris and Chara don’t have excuses. If you can’t see the obvious multitude of times that it’s shoved in your face then I have to wonder if you’re actually paying attention to the core themes and characterizations, and tenfold for Deltarune. I mean, that’s like half the plot right there: Kris is being possessed and they’re making sure you know they hate it. They’re doing everything they can to scream at you without a voice, “I am my own person, and I don’t want you here.” If you can look at that and think “yea, that’s a character whose entire existence is up to me” then like. What else did you miss???

The reason why it doesn’t work the same way as making Undyne transmasc (to use your example lol) is because you’re not taking anything away from anybody or hurting anybody by doing that. There are not a lot of nonbinary characters out there, and the fact that we’ve gotten three main characters in one franchise is a goddamn miracle. It’s similar to making a canonically gay character straight or a POC character white or a binary trans person cis. You’re taking representation away from a group that needs it.

Also, a lot of people say this all the time, but you wouldn’t do the same for any cis character. Like Sonic, Omori, The Last Of Us, Mario, etc, you won’t say that just because we play as whatever character means that we’re supposed to project our gender onto them. Sunny doesn’t become a girl if a woman plays Omori and decides to call him Lyla Womanname, so why should Kris, Frisk, and Chara?

[1o1percentmilk]

it's so worth listening to almost 4 minutes of SHC by foster the people just for the payoff of "do you want to live forever?"

[yantao-enthusiast]

“they all say that it gets better, it gets better but what if i don’t” is such a good line because you can interpret it so many ways. maybe it’s just people say that it gets better but they’re fucking liars and nothing gets better. everyone else is getting better, maybe, but you, you in particular are god’s little punching bag and you still criticize yourself at every turn, still pick at yourself and feel just not enough no matter how hard you try.

or ‘it’ could mean your life around you, your circumstances but what if even if that does improve, you still feel like shit and you don’t know what else to do, how to fix it? what else are you supposed to do when everything is perfect but you aren’t?

or what if ‘it’ could mean your life or your mental health, what if you do feel better but the thing that doesn’t get better is your skill level? this song talks about “what if i peaked as a teenager? my skills, my usefulness to the world determine how praised i am and as i grow older, it’s less impressive”. maybe life will get better but what if life getting better diminishes my craft? what if i can only create based on my pain and if that’s gone, what more do i have?

the instrumentals are on point in this moment, the drums are so mental breakdown core and i feel like screaming!! i fucking love this song i wish it never existed thank you ms rodrigo

[chaotic-guinea-pig]

The way you write style is so ❤ do you have tips for characterizing them?

SHIT I forgot this ask was in my drafts!! I'm so sorry about the super late reply, anon! 😭

***

AHHH thank you! <3 I'm glad to hear you enjoy my Stan and Kyle characterisations despite the fic taking place in a fantasy AU!!

I could talk about my specific interpretations and headcanons for Stan and Kyle, but I'd hate to impose it as the One True Way That Everyone Must Comply With Or Else... because it's really not; it's just my subjective opinions based on my understanding of their characters in canon. Instead, I'll tell you my general process in figuring out characterisations so you can find one that works best for your fic.

First, it's a good idea to start with rewatching the source material (the episodes, game playthroughs of TSOT/TFBW etc) so you can get a feel for their voices and mannerisms. If your fic has a specific premise, try to watch an episode that's related to that to get initial ideas for characterisation. For example, if you're writing an argument between Stan and Kyle, watch an episode where they're at odds with each other (Black Friday trilogy, Guitar Queero, YGO/Assburgers... so many...), to see how they behave. Do try to watch a variety of episodes though so you can a get well-rounded view on them, though!

Now, it's important to remember that South Park canon is... pretty messy, and that's no surprise for such a long running satirical cartoon like South Park. Don't stress yourself on trying to retain every single detail from canon, it's simply not feasible. Things like Kyle's diabetes, the fact that Kyle had a pet elephant, Stan's asthma, them playing football and baseball for school... all of those things were only mentioned once. My advice instead is to just focus on getting a feel for their voices (enough that you can write their dialogue), understand the core parts of their personalities, and sprinkle in the details you want for your story.

BTW, a fun way to narrow down their core personalities is to imagine their characters in an AU (TSOT, TFBW, AU where they didn't grow up together etc). What parts of them would stay the same? What would change, and why? Alternatively, you can look at metas and character analyses (of course, you don't need to agree with every take - the point is to just get yourself thinking)

And finally, if your goal is to write the most engaging, the most in-depth characterisation (like say, a character-driven longfic), then: make them well-rounded characters!! I think when starting out, it's easy to fall back on tropes: Stan is the sensitive one, Kyle the morallly righteous, outspoken one, Stan the depressed, Kyle the angry one... and that's not inherently a bad thing, of course; they're fine if well, your fic is literally a oneshot about Stan being depressed! But you can fall into the trap of leaning into these tropes heavily which can lead to flanderisation, and that's something to watch out for if your goal is to create in-depth characterisations.

So my advice here: whatever box you decide to apply to Stan and Kyle - whether that's Jock!Stan, Nerd!Kyle, Depressed!Stan, Angry!Kyle, Elf!Kyle, Knight!Stan, etc etc - remember they are still Stan and Kyle. Be creative! Break out of these boxes! Include their flaws and mix it up!! You'll get some interesting results if you adventure out of the boxes. :)

And finally, finally: HAVE FUN. At the end of the day, fanfiction is our fun sandbox to play in. This is really your fic - just have fun and explore what YOU find interesting about Stan and Kyle!! They are great characters in their own right. :)

TLDR: use canon as your starting point to get a feel for their voices, mannerisms and core personalities and sprinkle in fun details. make them 3D characters if you're shooting for in-depth, realistic characterisations. Have fun. :)

[kaatiba]

❝ No longer am I wretched with regret. No longer do I drown in unmoored anger, nor grapple with bitterness snarling. No longer am I raging in the secret heart of myself.

(No longer am I sorrowful. No longer weeping.)

No, no—gentle airs have washed through me, sweeping away deleterious detritus.

Hope—clemency—peace—stir within me, gently wakened, wings unfurling, limned in light.

Yes—I forgive you for your love unfamiliar, unwanted, and mine unmatching. I forgive our muteness, our deafness, our histories incompatible, our tragedies unspoken.

I forgive us our unbelonging. ❞

— (I forgive us both for the time it took to get here.)

[tinybed]

would anyone wanna talk in depth about the vvitch? i watched it again for like the 6th time and i feel i still have a lot to say and discuss…. lmk my inbox is always Open and Willing

[therevengeoffrankenstein]

something that strikes me about pw's 'gray' is just how. religious it is. it's very religious. religion plays such a subtle, omnipresent role in it. because of course it does.

[ohproserpine]

iv. dolly

see all chapters here tags: fem! reader, reader is a performer in a speakeasy, jealousy, possessiveness, alastor does not know how to interpret love, or maybe he does, in his own twisted way, roadkill used as a symbolism, gorey descriptions of love, murder the song she sings is 'roxie' from chicago

˚୨୧₊♱

"Hey!" Charlie's voice rang out as she spotted Mimzy making her way towards the hotel entrance. The blonde froze, casting a nervous glance behind her to see the demon princess rapidly approaching with a worried look that she mistook for anger.

With practiced ease, the blonde put on a fake frown, pressing her hand over her chest. "Oh, Charlie! I'm so sorry for the trouble last night, sugar! I'll pay—"

"No, no! I'm not here for that," Charlie waved her hands with a smile, seemingly oblivious to the slump of relief on Mimzy's shoulders. "Are you leaving so soon? The hotel wouldn't mind taking you in!"

Caught off guard by Charlie's unexpected offer, Mimzy grimaced. She hesitated, opening her mouth before shutting it as she struggled to find the right words. "Oh! Well…you see…"

A laughing track, sounding like it was filtered through a radio, echoed through the air, and Mimzy turned to the source to find Alastor towering over her with his signature grin.

"I don't think redemption is quite her style," Alastor's chipper voice rang out. His clawed hand reached for Mimzy’s hair, plucking a feather from her headpiece. In his hands, the pink ornament erupted into flames. "Frankly, I have my doubts she could even be redeemed at all!"

Horrified, Mimzy watched as her feather fell to the floor in ashes, her hand instinctively reaching for the charred remnants.

"Alastor," Charlie glared at him before turning her attention back to Mimzy. "We believe in redemption for everyone. It's not about what you were; it's about what you choose to be now. We'll be here to support you every step of the way."

"Thanks, sugar," Mimzy forced a smile, waving her hand around daintily. She glanced at the entrance with a subtle wish for escape, playing up the nice act while Alastor continued to watch the scene unfold with a cryptic smile. "But radio here is right. I don't really think it's my style. Different strokes for different folks. Plus, I've got a business to run!"

Alastor hummed, twirling his microphone cane around in his hand. The crimson glow of his eyes narrowed at her as he chuckled. "You couldn't possibly mean that wooden box of debauchery you call a club, right?"

"My 'wooden box of debauchery' has more character than any joint in that city," Mimzy grit her teeth together in a smile, barely concealing her frustration.

As another argument began to form, a throat clearing interrupted the flow, capturing Mimzy's attention. A pink glove slowly rose from the couch and Angel Dust pushed himself off the furniture, sitting up with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"If I may~" Angel Dust chimed in. "You saying you, ah, got a bar? I'm always up for checking out new places. Mind if I swing by sometime, tits?"

Mimzy beamed and sent Alastor a smug look, making her way toward Angel Dust. She reached into her chest, pulling out a card with a flourish. "Of course, kitten! Here's all our information. You'll find us in the Vee district. Feel free to swing by anytime. And don't forget to bring a friend!"

Angel Dust took the offered card, a grin forming on his face. "Bring a friend, huh? You got it, toots."

˚୨���₊♱

The Vee district, designated as the entertainment hub of Pride, was dazzled with bright neon lights and tall towering buildings adorned with blazing billboards. The streets pulsed with life, where every ten steps brought you face-to-face with street performers desperately vying for attention, hoping to catch the eyes of industry scouts. The message was clear – fame was the ticket to success. Performers were everywhere, found in rundown bars, neon nightclubs, and costly theaters catering to the insatiable appetites of the elite.

Mimzy's Lounge, nestled down east on one of the city's worse-off streets was no fancy stage. The building, weathered and worn, seemed to barely hold itself together. The exterior bore the scars of years gone by, with cracked windows, peeling paint, and near-rotting wooden walls. While it may not have been on the standards of the elite, to the poor and downtrodden, it was the best piece of entertainment they could afford.

Inside, the dim lighting of the bar did little to conceal the stains and cracks that adorned the floor and ceiling. Tables and chairs, mismatched, were arranged haphazardly. The air hung heavy with the smell of cheap perfume, wrapping around the audience—a motley crew of lost souls. On the stage, a couple of scantily clad showgirls were performing a dance routine, or at least their movements vaguely resembled one. The quality of the performance didn't seem to matter to the audience, who, hungry for any form of entertainment, welcomed the spectacle with open arms.

Seated discreetly in the back booths, Angel and Cherri had drawn their curtains tight, creating a cocoon of privacy amid the bustling buzz and thumping music in the club.

"…And check this out – Alastor is hitched," Angel Dust spat out the last word as if it were poison. His face caught the warm, bright lights spilling into their booth, slipping through the small gap in the middle of the curtains. He sipped from his drink, a glint in his eyes. "And the owner here's got some serious dirt on his missus or somethin' like that."

"That why you dragged me to this hellhole? Knew it," Cherri snorted, taking a sip of her cocktail, the sweet and tangy flavors doing little to mask the less-than-pleasant ambiance. "Couldn't believe you'd even want to step into a place like this."

"You know I can't resist a bit of gossip, and where else can you find more gossip than in a joint run by a gal who's got the goods on Alastor himself?" Angel grinned, his golden tooth flashing as he reclined in his torn red chair. "Hell. I bet anyone else would do what I'm doin'. I mean, who wouldn't be tearin' these walls down just to catch a glimpse of the Radio Demon's wife?"

Cherri Bomb let out a throaty chuckle. "Well, you're bloody right there."

A sudden blast of music echoed through the air, prompting Angel Dust to scramble out of his seat and poke his head out from behind the curtain. The previous performers stepped off the stage, making way for the upcoming act. He caught sight of a familiar pudgy figure sauntering onto the stage and hastily turned his head back to the booth, meeting Cherri's amused face. "It's startin'!"

“Welcome, all you devils and darlings, to the Dollhouse Lounge!” Mimzy's voice boomed, and the lights gracefully dimmed to focus on her. The hum of conversation dwindled, the audience's attention now on the stage. “It's the moment you've all been waiting for! The last act of the night… Dolly, the living doll!"

With Mimzy's spirited introduction, the claps and cheers crackled in the air. In an instant, the lights plunged into darkness, leaving Angel to flit his gaze across the smoke-hazed stage, hungry for a glimpse of what was to come. Suddenly, a surge of stage lights sliced through the lingering smoke, akin to a celestial burst, revealing your silhouette with a large signage that spelled out your name in bold, red letters.

Wearing a lovely smile, you spread your arms wide, catching everyone's attention as you sang the first note, voice sultry and dripping sweet like honey. "The name on everybody's lips is gonna be Dolly."

"That's his wife?" Cherri gawked behind Angel, her jaw dropping in disbelief. "Are you sure we got the right girl?"

"Hell, I'm just as surprised as you are," Angel shot back, an equally dumfounded look on his face.

"The lady raking in the chips Is gonna be Dolly," your voice echoed, the melody carrying through the lounge as you strolled towards the stage's platform. The rhythmic beat of the music vibrated against the soles of your heels while the spotlight dutifully trailed after you, its gentle glow caressing the curves of your glittery dress, casting glimmers of silver and gold that danced across the dimly lit bar.

"I'm gonna be a celebrity. That means somebody everyone knows," you continued, sauntering around the stage. As you swirled and twirled, your silhouette became a blur of sequins and shimmer. The spotlight then intensified its focus on you, highlighting the glint in your eyes. "They're gonna recognize my eyes. My hair, my teeth, my boobs, my nose."

"Fuck," Angel muttered under his breath. As you moved closer to the end of the platform, he could finally get a good look at you.

Shimmery blue eyeshadow graced your lids, while a dark blush adorned the apples of your cheeks, complementing the red lipstick you had on. Your dress, a dazzling ensemble of sequins, was not only radiant but also provocatively low-cut, teasingly revealing a glimpse of your chest before gracefully dropping to your knees. Dark silk stockings, sensually tracing the contours of your legs, were held by garters. At your feet, bedazzled red Mary Janes sparkled like jewels, catching the light with every step you took.

As Angel thought back to his conversation with Mimzy, he found himself agreeing with her earlier comments. You really were a living, breathing doll.

"From just some dumb canni-bal’s wife. I'm gonna be Dolly," you continued, seamlessly weaving your magic, each lyric a spell that bound the audience. "Who says that murder's not an art?"

With a spin, you twirled around the stage, a ditzy grin on your face, the sequins on your gown catching the light like stars. "And who, in case she doesn't hang, can say she started with a bang! Dolly Heart!"

As the final notes of the song echoed through the venue, the room erupted in applause and cheers. But, the curtain wasn't falling yet. Standing backstage, Mimzy let the moment linger, reveling in the prolonged applause. After all, happy customers always tipped generously.

On cue, bills and coins descended like a storm, hitting the floor with a crisp sound that mixed beautifully with the cheers of the delighted audience. There was so much that the shower of currency formed a makeshift carpet beneath your feet.

Angel Dust, still peeking from behind the curtain, wore a smirk of approval. "Not bad, not bad at all," he whispered to Cherri, who nodded in agreement.

Standing on the stage, bathed in the lingering glow of the spotlight, you held your pose, chest heaving up and down. A demure smile graced your lips as soft, appreciative nods and fluttering eyelashes accompanied each gaze you cast toward the audience. Tonight's turnout was impressive, though not unexpected given your agreement to perform one of your most famous songs after a prolonged hiatus.

"Dolly" was a beloved crowd-pleaser and the one song you hated with a passion.

The spotlight continued to shine relentlessly in your eyes, causing a painful burn in your irises. The deafening applause felt like a relentless assault on your senses as each clap echoed loudly in your ears. From the speakers, the music blasted in waves, the volume rattling your bones. Showbusiness, a constant companion in both your living and afterlife, had become an achingly familiar yet tormenting cycle.

In the corner of your eye, you saw Mimzy step up onto the stage to address the crowd. "Thank you, my lovely devils and darlings! Wasn't Dolly simply darling tonight?" she squealed through the mic.

The crowd erupted in cheers and applause once more, the energy in the room reaching a fever pitch. Mimzy basked in the adoration, her grin widening as she soaked in the success and the money. Oh, the money.

"I know you loved that!" she laughed. She leaned into the microphone, her voice turning into a whisper "Of course, you all do. I wrote it."

"Now, let's give our star her rest. Dolly, my dear, take a bow!" Mimzy's voice rang out, signaling the end of the performance. Relieved, you bowed before making your way towards the curtains as the heavy fabrics began to descend. After blowing a few more kisses to the audience, you slipped backstage, letting the smile fade from your face. As you vanished from view behind the curtain, Angel caught the look on your face.

It was a look he knew all too well.

"She looks perfectly happy without him," Cherri remarked with a casual shrug. "I mean, look at 'er. She's the star of the show. You think she left on purpose?"

Angel furrowed his brows, deep in thought. It didn't make no sense to him.

Why would you willingly perform under Mimzy's control when Alastor, with his power, could easily get you out of here? Contract or no contract, that radio freak could tear Mimzy apart like a hot knife through butter.

The spider's attention shifted towards the audience, and his gaze locked onto Mimzy, who was engrossed in conversation with some VIPs. The sight of her triggered a scowl to etch itself onto his features.

"I don't think so. There's more to it," Angel's eyes narrowed, the wheels in his head turning, "I've seen that look before."

"What look?" Cherri raised an eyebrow.

"That trapped look," Angel said, his gaze following Mimzy as she continued her animated conversation, oblivious to the scrutiny. "Before the curtains dropped, I saw it on her."

"Shit, Angie," Cherri's gaze followed Angel's, and she pursed her lips. "You think she's playing the part or really stuck?"

Angel Dust stood up straight, now opening the curtains wide as his eyes never left Mimzy. "I don't know, but I'm gonna find out."

Both of them took their time, patiently waiting until Mimzy stepped away. Once the blonde demon finally made her way backstage, they discreetly followed her lead, slipping behind the curtains with her.

The busy backstage corridor welcomed them with an assortment of items – costumes, props, and stage decor – scattered in chaotic disarray. Angel's eyes wandered around, and he spotted Mimzy in a far corner, sitting atop worn cardboard boxes. Nudging Cherri, he gestured for both of them to move closer.

"Hey~ How's it going, blondie?" Angel purred, leaning against a nearby prop, his tone dripping with a sickly sweet tone. Mimzy looked up, confused before she recognized him and flashed a wide grin.

"Hey, you! You're that spider fella from the hotel!" She tapped her chin in thought narrowing her eyes at him. "Uhm, Angle Dust was it?"

"It's Angel Dust," he corrected, a twitch of annoyance in his eye.

"Uh-hah, that's nice," Mimzy seemed unfazed, continuing to count her money, her legs swinging back and forth absentmindedly. "You like the show? Oh, who am I kidding, of course, you did!"

Angel Dust crossed his arms with a chuckle. "Yeah, about that. That girl, Dolly. She's quite a number, ain't she?"

"Oh, yeah. She's my little masterpiece," Mimzy smirked. "Met her before she had any of this."

"Let's cut the fuckin' crap," Cherri rolled her eyes, tired of dancing around the conversation. The cyclops leaned down to Mimzy's height, scowling into her face and driving her finger into the blonde's chest. "I'll say it straight. What's the deal with her? You got some strings attached?"

Mimzy paused and glanced up at Cherri with an arched eyebrow before turning to Angel and laughing tensely. "Your friend here sure is forward, Ankle! Oh, sweethearts, Dolly's here because she wants to be."

Angel Dust shot Cherri a glance, a silent conversation passing between them. "Yeah?"

"The girl signed a contract willingly," Mimzy explained with a casual shrug. "She gets what she wants, and I get what I want. It's a fair exchange."

Angel's eyes narrowed, his skepticism evident. "Contract? What's in it for her, then? Why willingly perform in this dump when she could easily be the star anywhere else?"

The blonde sent Angel a glare for his dig at her lounge but still answered him. "Dolly owes me something. A little debt she's paying off with her charming performances. A contract might sound sinister, but it's just showbusiness, furs." Mimzy leaned back, folding her arms, her expression daring the two of them challenge her further.

"Bull. She sold you her soul to dance and sing?" Cherri scoffed, taking the challenge.

"No, no, there was no soul exchange involved," Mimzy rolled her eyes. "Just a contract. But still binding, magical, and all of that stuff."

"Now, can you two get out of my hair?" Mimzy huffed, shooing them away with a dismissive wave. "I've got a lot of things to run here!" She returned to counting her money, clearly eager to be rid of the unwanted attention.

"Let's go, Cherri," Angel said with a look of defeat, pushing himself off the prop he had been leaning on.

Once the two of them finally stepped out of the establishment, the spider groaned to himself, now finding himself with more questions than answers.

˚୨୧₊♱

You strolled behind the weighty curtains, the backstage area buzzing with the rush of staff, the shouts of managers, and the lingering presence of performers idly awaiting their cues. Navigating through the organized chaos, you directed your steps towards your private dressing room—a sanctuary away from the glaring spotlight.

You threw the door open, entering quickly and slamming it shut behind you, the sudden silence a stark contrast to the clamor and racket outside. Flicking a light switch, the dim glow of a single, flickering bulb hanging from the ceiling revealed the room's worn-out glamour. A vanity cluttered with makeup, costumes haphazardly thrown on a worn-out sofa, and a cracked mirror that had seen better days—all were familiar sights.

"I would kill for a glass of whiskey," you murmured to yourself, the weariness of the performance settling in. Rolling your head and groaning as you heard a satisfying crack, you added, "or maybe a whole bottle of it."

Kicking off your heels, you let the cool floor cradle your skin, leaving the discarded shoes in a dusty corner to rest. Seated at the vanity, the chaotic world beyond the backstage curtains ceased to exist. The gentle glow of the vanity lights exposed the weariness in your eyes as you wiped away your mascara and dusted off the remnants of glitter from your skin. While removing your earrings, the shimmer of your wedding ring caught your eye.

A frown tugged at your lips, the subtle ache of longing surfacing.

You missed your husband.

With a sigh, you continued removing your earrings before tossing them onto your vanity. Seeking to ease the edge, you reached for a whiskey bottle on a nearby dresser, grabbing a glass and pouring yourself a drink. The golden liquid glimmered in the subdued light as you took a sip, the warmth of the alcohol coursing through you.

"C̵h̶e̸r̷?̷"̸

A static rumble of a radio, like thunder, jolted you mid-drink, causing the liquid to catch in your throat. Coughing and sputtering for a while, you scrambled to collect yourself before turning behind you. Your gaze landed on the desk table where your radio sat. The crackling static continued, accompanied by a familiar voice and distorted sounds.

Alastor.

Grabbing a cloth to wipe yourself, you rushed to the desk and grabbed the old radio in your hands. The radio was a faded, worn red with yellowed dials, and its antennas were visibly broken, held up together with scraps of tape. Your contract with Mimzy did not allow you to meet with Alastor or his shadows for as long as you were under her, but that didn't mean you couldn't communicate with Alastor in other ways.

With trembling hands, you carefully adjusted the dials, aligning them to the familiar frequency that bridged the gap between you two. Your heart thrummed in your chest, head almost dizzy from anticipation. The distorted voices began to clear, and Alastor's distinctive voice cut through the static, a lifeline in the abyss.

"Cher, my dear, are you there?" Back in his room at the hotel, Alastor spoke through his mic, awaiting your response. He was sitting by the large windows, bathed in the dim glow of the Ring of Pride's lights. The hues painted a lovely ambiance against his skin, highlighting the contours of his sharp features as he reclined against a plush couch.

Heavy silence lingered for a while as you felt your throat closing up. Without realizing it, you began crying, your sobs echoing through Alastor's microphone.

"Yes, Al," you choked out between sobs, your hands gripping the surface of the radio tightly, nails scratching against the peeling paint. "I'm here. I missed you."

Alastor listened to your tearful voice through the crackling static, his shoulders tense as his claws clenched against his microphone handle. Your vulnerable confession hung heavily in the air, and he felt a storm stirring within him. Unsure of what to do with these emotions, he could only sit there and listen to you weep.

From the busiest street in Pentagram City to the darkest alleyways, Alastor's reputation as a bloodthirsty killer was infamous, and he reveled in it. The idea that an overlord like him could entertain genuine care for someone sounded preposterous. Throughout his human days and beyond, Alastor never felt such sentiments.

Decades ago, he only needed himself. However, ever since you entered his life, he became a man possessed.

The moment he first laid eyes on you, you were a vision of beauty with bright eyes, flushed cheeks, and he couldn't deny that he felt an inkling of fondness for you right from the start. But that was all it ever was—nothing more, nothing less.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, he couldn't help but notice that the glow in your smile was brighter, lovelier. And despite his usual tendency to dismiss such details, Alastor couldn't look away. Not anymore.

You held him captive, like a deer frozen in the blinding glare of oncoming headlights. He was aware the collision was imminent, yet it still caught him off guard; A torrent of emotions crashing into him like a speeding truck, leaving him with twisted limbs and cracking bones, antlers torn from his head, fur matted and bloodied, with his heart exposed, beating vulnerably before you.

In the months that followed, Alastor remembered how foreign the feeling to him was. He didn't want to understand it, refused to, but each attempt to rip those festering emotions out of his chest only left him bleeding.

Looking back, Alastor finds himself incapable of fathoming how life was bearable before you entered it. The mere thought of returning to a time when you weren't present is something he refuses to entertain. The person he used to be, before he stepped into that speakeasy, now feels like a distant stranger, a mere shadow of the man he has become with you in his life.

The static in his thoughts subsided, in tandem with your crying and sobbing dying down. A prolonged pause lingered before Alastor interrupted the silence. "Cher, you know I'd bring you out of that wretched place if you just said the word."

A bitter laugh escaped your lips as you wiped away tears with your trembling fingers. "You tell me that every time we have these calls. Do you not get tired of it?"

"Never," Alastor hummed. The sound of your laughter, even tinged with bitterness, momentarily lifted the heavy burden that his heart carried. "The offer will always be up, darling!"

"You know I can't, Al. Me and her have history together," your voice paused, cracking with emotion. "And I still feel guilty."

Alastor sighed heavily, frustration dancing in his eyes. He always struggled to understand why you felt indebted to Mimzy, why guilt still clung to your decisions like a persistent shadow.

To him, Mimzy deserved the consequences. Despite his constant offers to free you from her grasp, you remained steadfast in your decision to complete your contract

"Very well, dear," Alastor's smooth voice crackled through the radio, weaving a comforting presence into the air as you moved back toward your vanity, taking a seat. "Now, enough of these melancholic talks. Tell me, how was the show tonight?"

"Mimzy had me perform 'Dolly' again," you remarked, a crooked smile playing on your lips. "She's well aware that I despise that song. I mean, really? Have you ever taken a look at the lyrics? It's a bit on the nose, don't you think?"

As your frustrations spilled out, Alastor stood from his seat, staff in hand. Placing it beside his closet, he attentively listened to your words, occasionally responding with chuckles and interjections. He slipped off his monocle, unbuttoned his suit jacket, and then his vest, revealing a well-tailored red undershirt that clung to his lean frame.

"I find the cannibal's wife line rather charming," Alastor smirked, and though he couldn't see it, you rolled your eyes in response.

"Of course you'd enjoy that part," you scoffed, mirroring Alastor's movements on the other side. Shedding the bedazzled dress, you opted for more comfortable attire, draping yourself in a robe.

"What's not to like? It shows the audience that you're my darling wife," Alastor quipped with a smug tone.

"Bushwa. They don't even know it's you. And I don't think anyone thinks highly of some poor fool shackled to a gaudy singer," you snorted. With the radio in tow, you began to pack your belongings into your purse.

"Don't be ridiculous," Alastor's laugh rumbled against the speakers. "My dear, being 'shackled' to you is the most delightful form of imprisonment."

"Such a sap," you scoffed, unable to suppress the smile that spread across your face. Shouldering your purse, you made your way towards the door, ready to leave. However, a sudden memory of a conversation with Mimzy surfaced.

"By the way, did you know Mimzy was planning to have me perform on some talk show?" you shared with Alastor while locking the door to your dressing room. A furrow appeared on your brow as the backstage lights played with shadows, casting a pensive expression on your face. "What was it again… Oh! Yes! Box-2-Nite."

A sudden screech from the radio erupted, its harsh sound reverberating in the hallway. Luckily, no one was around at this hour, and you cringed at the unexpected disturbance. Glaring at the box, you raised your brow. "You scared the living daylights outta me."

Alastor stayed silent for a while, claws digging into the cloth of his coat, ripping the fabric. With a snap of his head to the side, he dropped it to the floor and moved toward his staff, his shadows playing on the intricate patterns of the carpet beneath his feet.

"Do you perhaps mean… Vox-2-Nite?" His voice, usually smooth, carried an edge.

"Is that the name? I thought you hated telev—Oh. Ohhh..." As you ascended to the higher floors of the building, a realization swept over you.

Alastor's relationship with Vox was complicated. It didn't take a genius to see that. If the ceaseless back-and-forths on broadcasts, the turf wars that had casualties matching mass-extinction events, and the hushed gossip circulating among the other performers were anything to go by.

“Small world,” you chuckled, strolling down the hallway that led to the performers' rooms, the echo of your footsteps blending with the distant murmur of conversation. “I’m guessing I shouldn't take her up on the offer?”

"Absolutely not," Alastor practically snarled out, venom dripping from his tongue. The radio in your hand crackled and buffered, a faint golden glow emanating from the dials. "That pompous piece of shit television is nothing but a clout-chasing, mediocre host flitting between this fad and another on his little picture show podcasts."

“I know, love.” With a swift turn of a doorknob, you opened the door to your flat. "I wasn’t… planning… to…”

Your words trailed off, lingering in the air, as you entered the room. Your eyes widened in awe, captivated by the sight of a bouquet of white roses gracefully adorning your bed.

"Alastor," you spoke into the radio, your voice filled with genuine warmth. "Did you send me roses?"

Back in the hotel, Alastor, settled back into his plush couch. The fiery embers of his anger melting away like a fleeting shadow, replaced by the realization that you had discovered his gift.

A soft chuckle came from the radio, "Guilty as charged, cher. "

Your heart fluttered, and you sank onto the bed, dropping the radio on your mattress and taking the bouquet into your hands. The delicate petals felt soft against your fingers as you admired their beauty. White roses, unlike red ones, were so scarce it was difficult to get a hold of.

"Alastor, this is… wonderful," you spoke into the radio, smile so wide your cheeks almost hurt. "Why—How did you even—How did you even manage to find these?"

"Oh, I pulled a few strings," your husband grinned before chuckling, "and a few limbs too."

Your laughter intertwined with his and Alastor listened fondly, finding solace in the melody of your delight.

The day you inked that deal with Mimzy marked the onset of an agonizing pain he had never experienced before. The thought of leaving your sorrowful self under the wretched contract of that avaricious woman had incited a frenzied rage within him, leading to weeks of unbridled slaughters on the streets of hell.

The blood he spilled onto the sidewalks left a stain on the concrete that lasted months.

Fortunately for you and him, the ordeal was nearing its end. Just one more year remained until Alastor could finally reunite with you. After enduring decades of this agony, an additional year seemed like mercy.

"You like it, cher?" Alastor's voice dropped an octave lower, the satisfaction evident in his tone, pleased to bring happiness to your moment.

"Yes," you laugh, cradling the bouquet in your hands. "I like it very much."

˚୨୧₊♱

[moonastro]

Juno persona chart

mercury in the houses

what is a juno persona chart? looking into juno persona chart gives more detailed insight of how the relationship and marriage overall of you and your spouse will be like. it also describes them in a sense as well. The Greek Goddess Juno is described to rule over love and marriage and hence why the asteroid is looked into for that theme.

mercury is a planet of communication, the mind and the way one talks about things. mercury in the juno persona chart gives insight on how the couple communicates and the mental connection between the two.

reminder: this is my interpretation from observations and first hand experiences, so don't take this to heart.

mercury in 1st house: since this house is ruled by mars lots of quick speech and lots of quick thinking within the marriage. lots of arguing and conflict when it comes to words like using vulgar language quite often and so on. They can quickly grow bored with routine and may need continual mental stimulation and excitement. They like expressing their thoughts, opinions, and ideas with others and may have a natural knack for public speaking or performing arts. They may influence people with their words and thoughts so they can easily get what they want from their partner. ego can be very pungent during communication, so you show your true self when in depth of conversation with your partner and are very ethical and true to what you say.

spouse may have their natal mercury in aries, 1st house, fire sign, fire house (1,5,9)

mercury in 2nd house: each party's thought process is very structured and this is the perfect example of thinking before speaking. whatever comes out of this placements mouth is meaningful and important. speaking pace may be sensual and slow, very clear communication between the two. likely to state the obvious and most predictable and logical things. this placements doesn't like to complicate things so they just get to the point. They may love looking into investment possibilities, analysing market trends, and developing smart financial strategies to increase their wealth and security. This placement may cause money-related anxiety or tension, particularly if they believe they have little control over their financial status so discussions about finance to their partner is common.

spouse may have their natal mercury in taurus, 2nd house, earth sign, earth house (2,6,10)

mercury in 3rd house: communication is very forward and free. no hesitations when it comes to talking to each other. talking is a very important part of the relationship and when something happens the couple just need to talk it out. its all about talking it out. it can be quite damaging actually if there is a block in free communication. Shared interests in studying, reading, and debating diverse topics might be a strong bonding aspect in their relationships. This location indicates versatility and flexibility in communication approaches. Individuals may readily change their method of expressing themselves to fit different situations to their other half. They are more inclined to appreciate their partner if they are as adaptable and open-minded in their communication style.

spouse may have their natal mercury in gemini, 3rd house, air sign, air house (3,7,11)

mercury in 4th house: lots of open and honest communicative styles for this placement. sensitive topics may be a theme for this placement also. both party's communicate with a respectable and loving matter for the other person. including family members or talking about them is common. The individual may come from a household that values open communication and engages in frequent conversation, debate, and idea sharing from what they learnt from their household. They may have learnt to express themselves vocally from an early age and are comfortable conversing with family members. They may find it easier to express their feelings verbally rather than physically, and they may seek intellectual relationships with family members to meet their emotional demands. They may also be prone to overanalysing or intellectualising their emotions in order to gain a better understanding of their partner.

spouse may have their natal mercury in cancer, 4th house, water sign, water house (4,8,12)

mercury in 5th house: very playful and unserious topics can be talked about in the relationship. this placements communication style is quite sensual but very fun and playful, which of course leads to arguments so be careful with that. They may have a way with words that is fascinating and captivating, making them exceptional storytellers. They may also have a sense of humour and wit, and they use words to express themselves and entertain others. These people can exhibit their creativity through writing, public speaking, acting, or any other means of self-expression. They may have a natural flair for presenting their thoughts in innovative and engaging ways, which sets them apart in artistic endeavours. They may love flirting, light-hearted bantering, and verbal expressions of affection. They may also value their intellectual relationship with heir partner and like engaging in fascinating talks.

spouse may have their natal mercury in leo, 5th house, fire sign, fire house (1,5,9)

mercury in 6th house: this placement enjoys mental stimulation and is constantly working their mind. for example in marriage, when going on about the day, this placement cant take their mind of what they did before they left the house, like thinking if they turned off the lights or if they locked the door and so on. lots of precautions and overthinking for this placement. which leads to being critical in everything that they say, like after a conversation between both parties this placement rethinks the whole speaking process and thinks of what they could have said and what they said that was wrong. likely to debate on practical things like where to go for grocery shopping or what gym to go to and so on. lots of conversations about work and routine for example asking 'how was your day', 'how was work?' and so forth. daily check ins and having a routine with their conversations are common. very honest when it comes to health matters, if they are worried about their partners health they take initiative.

spouse may have their natal mercury in virgo, 6th house, earth sign, earth house (2,6,10)

mercury in 7th house: They may express themselves freely and honestly to their partners while expecting the same amount of communication in return. Clear and honest communication is critical to sustaining harmony in their relationships. They may examine the benefits and drawbacks of their relationships, assess their compatibility, and use logic to better comprehend their partner's point of view. These people may be open to new ideas, prepared to negotiate, and find concessions in disagreements. They can readily tailor their communication style to the demands of their partners. They may settle issues by good conversation, identifying common ground, and achieving mutually beneficial agreements. Individuals may need to avoid being overly critical or nit-picky in their relationships with partners.

spouse may have their natal mercury in libra, 7th house, air sign, air house (3,7,11)

mercury in 8th house: very very intense topics. communication is very deep and spiritually inclined. lots of talks about taboo things that others may not feel comfortable with. communication can be full of secrets, discovery of each other throughout communication. this is a very 'i want to know all of who you are' kind of placement. very intense. questions everything about their partner to the tiniest detail. They want to understand the psychological undercurrents of their relationships and are interested in themes that delve into the depths of human experience. Communication in these partnerships is passionate, intimate, and transforming. Their intellectual curiosity motivates them to seek out hidden truths and go into the unknown, both inside themselves and in their relationship. They are more inclined to discuss common money, investments, or shared objectives, in order to build trust and mutual understanding in their marriage. They may be adept at expressing their deepest ideas and feelings, establishing intimacy and trust in their relationships via open and honest communication. They recognise the power of words to heal, empower, and promote progress, and they may actively strive to utilise communication as a tool for personal and relationship development. These people may be drawn to therapy or counselling for personal or professional reasons, and they may have an innate ability to recognise the underlying motivations and dynamics in their interactions.

spouse may have their natal mercury in scorpio, 8th house, water sign, water house (4,8,12)

mercury in 9th house: These folks' relationships rely heavily on deep, meaningful talks and the exchange of ideas. They are prone to admire conversations about broad opinions and an interest in investigating a variety of topics, such as philosophy, religion, or cultural differences. They can show their love and affection through vocal expression, exchanging ideas, and participating in debates or conversations. They value communications that are exhibited well and articulate their thoughts clearly. Travelling together or participating in educational activities as a couple may strengthen their relationship and promote mutual understanding. They may also be in long-distance relationships, having met their spouses while travelling or studying overseas. They like sharing their expertise and experiences with their partner and may feel satisfaction in assisting them to learn and grow. They also value their partner who can teach them new things and widen their horizons. Their connections may include a variety of cultural influences and intellectual hobbies, which enriches their shared experiences.

spouse may have their natal mercury in sagittarius, 9th house, fire sign, fire house (1,5,9)

mercury in 10th house: You and your partner may have a strong cerebral connection and like discussing, debating, and exchanging ideas. both party's perception is intelligent, intellectually fascinating, and capable of participating in meaningful talks. You and your spouse may assist each other's job ambitions by providing practical advice and networking opportunities. Your connection may be tied to your public image or require professional collaboration. You and your partner may approach difficulties logically, using facts and analysis to identify answers. You may also be skilled at talking with authoritative people or navigating professional situations together. Engaging in intellectual pursuits like studying, attending workshops, or discussing ideas helps to improve your partnership. You may also be concerned about how society perceives your relationship and how it affects your own reputations. You may need to be careful not to allow work-related stress or goals dominate the quality time you spend with your partner.

spouse may have their natal mercury in capricorn, 10th house, earth sign, earth house (2,6,10)

mercury in 11th house: communication style is unique for the both of you. maybe it's not something you are used to nor they are either. its a you and them only thing. lots of texting and messages can be sent in marriage, so even when you are not together you still get the time to communicate with them through your phone. lots of speaking with other people like social groups, work, colleagues that you haven't before. Individuals may clearly and precisely describe their future visions, communicating their intentions to others through verbal or writing means. They may also seek comments and advice from their social group in order to refine their goals. Individuals are more inclined to accept fresh ideas, differing viewpoints from their partner. They may be drawn to unorthodox or avant-garde ideas that challenge standard thinking.

spouse may have their natal mercury in aquarius, 11th house, air sign, air house (3,7,11)

mercury in 12th house: Individuals with this placement may have a highly intuitive and attentive communication style, catching up on subtle hints and nonverbal signs. They may have an innate ability to grasp unsaid thoughts and feelings, making them skilled at empathising and providing support in the relationship. this might suggest a preference for secrecy or prudence in communicating. These people may choose to keep certain thoughts and ideas to themselves or express them exclusively in private circumstances. They may be hesitant about disclosing too much about oneself, preferring to retain an air of mystery or seclusion in their dealings. so communication between the couple is very peaceful and intuitive. Individuals with this placement may thrive in areas requiring artistic expression, such as writing, poetry, music, or visual arts. lots of love notes and creating art dedicated to their partner is their love language. These individuals may have a great understanding of the human mind, including their own their partners underlying motives. They may be interested in psychology, psychotherapy, or other disciplines that deal with the complexity of human behaviour and emotions. They may have a natural capacity to connect with their instincts and gut sensations, which may help them navigate the hidden intricacies of relationships. They may also find fulfilment in discussing spiritual or philosophical issues, hoping to get a better grasp of the mysteries of existence.

spouse may have their natal mercury in pisces, 12th house, water sign, water house (4,8,12)

thanks for reading 🫶🏻have a nice day🤍

[draconic-desire]

🔹 Oculus Infinitum 🔹

Yandere Satoru Gojo x Reader

He’s infinity; in comparison, you’re nothing. So of course using your cursed technique on him backfires.

Warnings: 18+, MINORS DNI! Yandere behavior, unhealthy relationship, implied kidnapping, forced imprisonment, nsfw, non-con/dub-con, afab!reader, slight mindbreak

Infinity is often interpreted as the largest numerical magnitude to exist. And while that fact may be true in theory, infinity is better defined as the endless division of infinitesimally smaller and smaller values. One can be separated into half, half to a quarter, and so on, until the space between fractions almost ceases to exist.

Almost.

Gojo is a lot like infinity. Blame it on his technique, sure, but you suspect it runs much deeper than that. His actions never reach an end; instead, each one sinks further and further into your skin, fangs so small you barely feel them until it’s too late and the venom irreversibly invades your veins. He’s chipped away at you, piece by little piece, until you are the opposite of infinity; you are nothing.

On a surface level, most would say you have it pretty good. You (are trapped in) live in a huge home, filled with opulent furniture and all the luxuries you could ever want. You’re (expected to) allowed to cook meals for the two of you, including your favorite dishes. You still have (basic rights) privileges, such as free roam of the house, your own selection of clothes, access to the television and your phone (minus the ability to call or text, of course), even outdoor time with Satoru’s supervision. Why would you ever need to leave?

You had escaped, once.

Calling it an escape would be generous. Nothing ever happens without Gojo’s knowledge, without Gojo’s permission. How foolish you had been, to think you could evade his Six Eyes. Despite weeks of planning, he’d dragged you back home within the hour.

The chains hadn’t been removed for an entire month after that, and their lingering presence on each post of Satoru’s bed serves as a constant reminder that they’ll never rust.

Currently, you’re in the (not your, nothing is ever truly yours anymore) house’s lofty kitchen now, preparing dinner for his return home from work. Glancing up at the clock, you see it’s nearly time for him to arrive. You click the stovetop on and place a pot of water over the open flame, watching the blue fire flicker. Your thoughts immediately go to Gojo’s eyes, twin infernos of endless blue. Those eyes never seem to close, never seem to be too far from your own. They have the ability to lock you in place and throw away the key forever.

Moments later, the sound of the door opening and closing, along with the click of multiple locks, echoes from the hallway. Long, casual footsteps alert you to his presence behind you. His velvet voice, so languid and carefree, fans your ear as he settles his hands on your hips. “There’s my girl. Already making dinner for me?” He places a surprisingly chaste kiss to the top of your head. “Missed ya, baby.”

You add rice and a bit of salt and stir the pot in front of you in silence. When did you stop fighting him on that? On losing your full name to simple titles like girl and baby? The old you would have gagged at those pet names. The old you that kicked and bit the hand of your captor like a rabid animal, always fighting for freedom.

His grip tightens when you fail to immediately respond, though you hear him force a light tone to his voice. “What, curse got your tongue?”

Tension immediately floods your muscles. Gojo is a vain man; your silence maims his huge ego, something the most powerful jujutsu sorcerer will not stand for. You must react. “No, Gojo. I was just lost in thought, is all.”

You worry your lip when the quiet drags on. “I-I’m sorry?”

Gojo barks out a laugh, but his smile is strained and all fangs. “Back to Gojo again, huh?”

A mistake you notice too late. The spoon falls from your grip as you turn your head slowly. He’s still wearing his blindfold, but you know those infinite abyssal eyes are currently boring into your soul, daring you to speak. “Ah, no! Satoru, I mean—”

“Shh, baby. I get it.” His hands move to your shoulders, which he begins to massage. “Is it because you’re mad at me for neglecting you?”

To an outsider it may sound like he’s teasing, but you know all too well the creep of annoyance laced into his deepened, husky tone. “Or are you just being a brat?”

Swallowing, you place a hand on his toned forearm in an attempt to calm him. You feel him practically melt into the touch. “Truly, ‘Toru, I’m fine.” Your honeyed tone makes you sick, but you’ve learned it can subtly manipulate your captor in the right setting, usually this domestic fantasy world of his. “You’ve been so busy with work, and my mind has just been wandering. Why don’t you go sit while I finish up with the food?”

He hums absentmindedly, fingers swirling patterns across your abdomen. “I have a better idea…” Hot breath caresses your ear, eliciting a shiver. “Let me make it up to you.”

A deft hand snakes its way down the back of your bare thigh, barely ghosting across your skin. You can feel him, solid as a rock, yet you know there will always be space between you. He can touch you, but you’re powerless to do the same.

Just like in everything else, you can’t hold a candle to him. Your cursed energy is inconsequential, a tiny spark against his infinitive well of power.

Talk of your innate cursed ability is a topic you actively choose to avoid. Your technique, when activated, allows you to briefly control the thoughts and consequent actions of a single individual—but only after you’ve kissed them. And it often backfires tremendously, with the kiss causing overwhelming feelings of obsession or insanity in the receiver. From more than enough uses you’ve learned to see it as more of a curse in and of itself, and one you prefer to keep hidden.

Especially from the man behind you. Gojo—Satoru, you correct yourself—has enough twisted love that you wouldn’t dare try to possess his thoughts. The mere idea makes your throat tighten with panic.

Satoru’s technique, on the other hand, causes every nerve ending along your skin to explode as his hand falls beneath your skirt and skate across your barely clothed core.

“Been thinking about this all day,” he groans. “Are you wet for me, baby?” Before you can respond, Satoru easily moves your panties aside and spears you with his middle and ring fingers.

The invasion makes you jolt instantly. An involuntary gasp leaves you as he presses deeper, his fingers sheathed to the knuckle. You hate how your walls immediately tighten around him, slick with your arousal. No, you don’t want this, but Gojo gives you no choice in the matter but to practically ride his hand as he lifts your skirt with his other hand to get a better view.

“I’ll never get tired of this.” His thumb passes over your clit, pulling yet another shameful moan from your lips. Your tense demeanor only causes your pussy to accidentally squeeze him tighter, spurring him on. You try to pull your thighs together, but Satoru wrenches them apart easily with his other hand. “Oh, no, none of that. This pussy is mine.”

You squirm, grasping for something to get you out of this mess. “Satoru, stop, the food will burn—”

“Forget it,” he commands, ripping your skirt off. “We’ll order takeout after.”

Your heart drops. “After…?”

“Aw, you thought I’d stop here?” His condescension floods your ears. “No, babe, I’m only just getting started with you.”

His persistence, like infinity, has no end.

Without warning, Satoru removes his fingers from your core and swings you over his shoulder, smacking your bare ass and wrenching a yelp from you. You blanch when you realize he’s carrying you to the bedroom.

“Wait, Satoru—!”

You are unceremoniously thrown onto the bed, said white-haired sorcerer towering above you. He pounces immediately, locking your limbs in place. Satoru must see the fear, the readiness to engage in fight or flight, across your face, because he brushes a tender hand across your cheek to wipe away a tear you didn’t realize had fallen.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared,” he teases, but it somehow sounds like a threat. His fingers, still coated with your arousal, hook around your thong and slide it down your legs. “You’re acting like this is our first time or somethin'.”

Oh, it was far from the first time that he had touched you or been inside of you. But something about today, about this time, sends fear skittering across your whole being. Perhaps it’s all the reminiscence lately, or the fact that your thoughts drifted to your innate technique for the first time in weeks. Panic sinks its claws into you.

Breath ragged, heart pounding, you grab his face in both hands and react without thinking; for the first time since he kidnapped you, you willingly kiss Satoru Gojo and activate your technique.

Satoru immediately reacts, deepening the kiss and pressing you more firmly into the mattress until you feel as if you’re nearly suffocating.

Release me, you project into his mind, threading a hand through his white locks and squeezing hard.

The world suddenly goes very, very still.

Satoru freezes. Slowly, painfully, he parts his lips from your own and straightens his arms against the mattress to hover above you once more. His breath comes out in jagged huffs. The only sound that remains is the unending tick, tick, tick of the clock on the wall, bringing you closer to your doom.

For a second, you almost believe your technique worked.

That is, until he quickly sheds his blindfold, and you are meet with those stunning, terrifying, brilliant, paralyzing blues. He whispers your name with a foreign stillness that chills your bones to ice. “Do you…have a cursed technique?”

What an idiot you are to have thought you could sneak past Satoru Gojo’s barriers and Six Eyes. You can’t touch his physical form; why would his mind be any different?

It takes all of your willpower to withhold the panicked, hysterical laugh threatening to escape you. “Look, I can explain—”

Satoru leans back on his knees, one hand carding through his hair as he looks up to the ceiling. “God, babe, I knew you could see curses and harbored cursed energy, but here you go surprising me!” He laughs, a gleeful chuckle that has you reeling.

“You’re not…mad?” you dare to ask, inching your knees towards your chest. Maybe your technique failed, but you can still buy some time and get into a safer position.

Satoru gazes down at you, head tilted and a full grin on his lips. “Mad? Baby, why would I be upset when for the first time in our relationship, you were the one seducing me?”

Oh, no. No no no no no.

Grabbing your ankle, he drags you back to a supine position, your pussy on full display for him. He licks his lips at the sight. “Plus, you trying to get inside my head was cute and all. Weak, but you gave it your best!” He laughs again, and you realize that he never took you seriously, not even for a second.

The thought should enrage you—it would have infuriated the old you—but all you can manage now is a low whine as his hands go for his belt.

Satoru pulls himself free, his already hard cock pulsing in anticipation. Precum beads at the tip as he lines himself up with your entrance. “What was it you asked me for? Release, right?”

Your eyes bulge at his implication. “Wait, Satoru, I didn’t mean—!”

You barely have time to react as he buries himself in you completely. A choked sob bubbles up your throat as you breath through the stretch of him.

Satoru moans in ecstasy as he begins a steady pace, thrusting mercilessly into that squishy spot deep inside your core that has you seeing stars.

“Kiss me again.” It’s light and breathless, but it’s an order, not a request. Fear makes you comply immediately, though your kiss is a hesitant, timid thing compared to your earlier attempt to sway him.

He’s having none of that. No, Satoru had a taste of your affection, and now he’ll tolerate nothing less than your full reciprocation. If only you could truly peer into his mind and see that no amount of your cursed energy would change him; your being was already permanently imprinted on his brain. You were his perfect doll, held in the palm of his hand.

Nails rake down his back as you arch against the mattress. Every time he thrusts, he grinds against your clit, and you feel yourself chasing your finish. You hate this, you want it to stop, but you can’t help—

“Please, Satoru,” you plead without thinking, meeting his limitless eyes. You feel yourself drowning in them, a blue sky that never ceases.

For a split second, his rhythm hesitates. “…Say that again,” he whispers, almost reverently. “Beg for me.”

You’re not quite sure what you’re asking for. “P-please, I can’t take it anymore, please let me—!”

“Choose your next word carefully,” he warns, voice shifting to a low growl as his hand moves to your throat, adding ever so much pressure.

Tears streak your vision. The embarrassment of your technique failing and the lewd position he has you in all crash down upon you, and another piece of you breaks. “Please let me cum,” you concede.

To your dismay, his pace slows, and you cry out in protest as your orgasm fades. “I just need you to do one more thing for me, baby.” He leans into your neck, nipping and sucking at all your sensitive spots, torturing you even further. “Tell me you love me.”

Alarms should be blazing through your head, but the fog of your arousal clouds your judgement as you seek your climax.

That piece of your soul he took shatters into a million shards as you whisper, “I love you, Satoru.”

The two of you shatter simultaneously. You register all too late the warmth invading your core as Satoru pumps his cum deep inside you.

He’s never come in you before.

Your name is murmured over and over like a prayer against your neck—or maybe it’s a curse. You jolt in overstimulation when he pulls out and bends down to place a kiss against your puffy folds. “So good for me, baby. This perfect pussy belongs to me.”

He kisses you a final time, long and slow. When he pulls away, a languid smile sweeps across his features. “You’re all mine, (Y/n). Even your mind.”

With the use of your innate technique, you’ve dug your own grave for good. Satoru will never let you go now.

After all, infinity is indivisible.