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sugudoe · 8 months ago

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☕️⌇ ◜ OFFICE HOURS ◞ ⠀⠀⠀

╰⠀boss!nanami x secretary!reader where . . . nanami kento can’t let people know the reality that he, under no circumstances, belongs to them. in fact, is quite the contrarie. everyone in this job is a puppet willingly letting him pull the strings. you more than anyone. after committing the bizarre mistake of telling nanami your true intentions with him, your boss is more than eager to comply your desires and just maybe, forget he first input of no belongings.

cw. too much swearing, fingering with others present (not caught), fem!reader, reader keeps daydreaming w. nanami, slightly age gap but non-important all legal, public sex, overstimulation, they both keep failing to hide, possessiveness, love bites, he slap her thigh once, bit of blood because of self lip biting 4.9k words, english is not my first language.

an. hi, hello, i want everyone to know i’m this man wife. this is, in fact, our love story, i used to serve his coffee, now i’m serving my puss— anyways, enjoy it. FYI nanami smells like either tom ford tobacco vanille or byredo bibliothèque.

There are certain events in the workplace ── a sequence, if you may ── that serves as a warning to everyone that Mr. Nanami Kento has arrived.

Not many months ago, you were clueless to the symphony of presentation he had, even before stepping into the room. Now, though, it’s engraved in your mind. Much like he is. It is, also, a dirty secret to have that you eagerly wait for it, everyday.

Halting the tack-tack of your fingers on the keyboard, your ears pick the first signal ── rushed footsteps. All opening space so he can pass without the need to raise his eyes, hidden by sunglasses, from his cellphone. The second is the whispers and swooning. Some, more brave than others, compliment him out loud. Always about his peculiar ties, and always he smiles back. Lastly, when Nanami is in your sight of view, he is accompanied by his signature scent that greets you before he even does.

The most raw way to describe his smell is by saying that you wish you could crack him open, and lay inside of him forever. It’s comfortable and addicting and it makes you want to kiss him until it can permanently fixates on you.

In more proper synonyms, Nanami Kento smells like caramel, wood and a bit smokey. He is hot to the touch, one can admit. You don’t fall far from these thoughts, but sometimes, when you are not eye-fucking your boss, you think he smells like a cozy cabin in the woods.

Perfect place to fuck him, though.

Is easy to imagine such a thing. You can picture him with thick sweat covering his body, like a second layer, as he comes inside with a hatchet and wood for the fireplace. And you can, also easily, imagine yourself on your knees sucking him so good, as way to thank him for keeping you warm.

It’s a Kento effect. Everywhere he passes, people tend to have a heat stroke. You are no better than the others. Probably worse. He, however, does not need to know that. Nanami’s plate is already filled to the brims with people gazing him as a snack, he doesn’t need his personal assistant to do the same.

Not in front of him, anyways.

So, when he comes near your table, and stop to take whatever you have for him (work related, honey, even when you wish it was your pussy), you present the calls he need to answer with a compliment for his shoes and a black coffee with pretzels.

He adores you.

You want to fuck him senseless.

A perfect imperfect balance of clashing feelings. His are professional, yours are not even close. He only steps over the boundaries when it’s to call you “Darling” and you only do so in your head, when you think of laying on his table and letting him feast on your dripping cunt.

He is gentle and caring.

You wouldn’t mind chanting his name loud enough for everyone to understand what’s happening.

He departs ways and you share a trembling sigh with your inner turmoil of emotions. He makes you have a constant fever. In fact, with him, everything is constant. You want to fuck him everyday, you touch yourself with his voice in your mind guiding you. He gets pretty out of character in your alone mind, though.

Real Nanami is a sweetheart. Your Nanami would make you cry while on his cock.

“── and the meeting room needs to be ready by eleven, you can do all that, darling?” He asks. He asks! He is talking with you.

“I, uh, I’m sorry, Mr. Kento,” You stutter before shifting your attention from your computer screen to his charming understandable smile. “could you repeat, please?”

“Sure, darling.”

You need to put extra neurons to work when eyeing his pink lips moving gracefully. Is it the same shade as his cock? Oh, you hoped so. That would be your favorite color, would paint your nails, your hair, anything.

“Got it now?” Nanami curls his lips as he question you. You can’t lie to him, so you sign that No, you did not payed attention. He chuckles and comes closer, resting both hands in fist on your table, letting himself down so he can be face to face with you. “I need you to order mine, yours and the lunch for the usual gentleman I talk about the finances, ── you have that noted, right?” You nod, and he proceeds. “Then, I want you to decorate the meeting room, the way you always do.” You nod again, and he moves back. You want to whine. “Good girl.”

Pause.

That’s new. It’s like achieving a new item in a game. A new level. That’s a prize, the greatest form of enlightenment one could have. You feel warm in your chest and cheeks, but dare not to sway your eyes from his twinkling ones. You wonder if he knows what you are thinking, or if he knows the power he has over you ── over everyone.

That’s Nanami Kento. The man with a dazzling aura, it touches all in proximity, no one survives him. If he wants, you are his. Hooked like a worm, willingly ready to be devoured by a fish, and the thing is no one knows if Nanami is said fish or the fisherman.

The secret about his success is not only the sweet talk he does, but the way he can easily take it away. And no one wants to be away from his warmth. You’ve seen it before, how he controls people ── some more powerful than your mind can comprehend, they all are puppets for him to pull the strings. He touches and praises them when they do what he wants, but Nanami grows cold and absent when they don’t.

Everyone wants to be loved by him, so everything this enterprise does, it revolves around Nanami.

He can be a scary man when he wants, and you’ve heard the tales, from time to time. With you, fortunately, he is just your nice boss. And a part of you wish he would cradle you into his arms and play with you like a marionete. His doll. Yeah, you want to be his fucking doll.

Tempted to ruin this lunch and be ravished by his famine, you shake your deranged thoughts and focus on ordering the food. Also asking for red velvet cookies for you and Mr. Gojo, the owner of this whole enterprise.

A cocky young man, that likes to devour your physique whenever you come inside the room. He is rich and beautiful and his name is always on the newspaper with gossip mostly involved. You could fall for him, could fuck him, but he is not Nanami.

He doesn’t boss you around gently, nor he makes you crave his scent on lonely nights. He makes you shy, but not timid and horny. In fact, you don’t even think about Satoru Gojo unless you are balancing his persona with Nanami’s. That’s sad for him.

You keep doing that ── the thoughts, the sexual dreams ── while preparing the meeting room with a charming decoration. Black glasses, black plates, all with golden details. Satoru Gojo himself payed for it, not that he knows or care. You commented once, Nanami liked, and moved his toys in favor of buying the expensive kitchen utensils you wanted. He even made sure to get some for your own house.

The last part is closing the thick black curtains around the room, for privacy. Someone comes inside the second you step back from the last tapestry, and when you turn, Nanami is there.

“How’s everything?” His fingers press on the table, moving swiftly with him, closer to you. “You’ve got cookies?” There is amusement in his question.

“Mr. Gojo’s secretary, Suguru, told me he was craving something sweet.” You turn back to the table behind you, stacking the sweet in a small mountain. “He always gets fussy if he doesn’t get his daily large intake of sugar.”

You grabbed one, knowing that half of it was rightfully yours, and twisted on your heels. Nanami scared you in two sequential situations after that. The first being his looming presence right in front of you, piercing gaze on you, shifting between your eyes. He was searching for something in it, so, you tried the hardest you could to give him something back. Eyes that said “please, fuck me.”

Maybe it worked. The next thing he did, that scared you, was bending down and biting your cookie. Eyes never leaving yours. You gulped, he smirked.

“Please, fuck me.”

He chocked.

See, your eyes were supposed to be the one speaking for you, but Nanami also has this super power that no one can lie to him. He wants something, he gets it delivered in a silver plate. He knows everyone’s secret, and yours were never safe, just happened to be hidden in a line of things that weren’t priority for him. Not until now, at least. He wanted to know what you were hiding, and you gave it to him.

“I ──” The words are struck behind your teeth. Nanami eagerly waits for them. “I’m so sorry.”

And with that, you leave him.

In a perfect world, he would have grabbed you by the wrists and fucked you against Satoru’s side of the table. But it’s not, because he lets you go. He has to let you go, even if you know that’s not the end of it. He will get you later, and like a little kid in science class, he will dissect everything you said. Therefore, during the thirty minutes of freedom you are granted in the bathroom, before the meeting starts, you try and fail and try and fail to conceal your thoughts into a perfect lie.

It doesn’t work. Not even a bit. Because Nanami knows you like the back of his hand, as much as he knows everyone that works with him. He knows when you lie and when you are truthful, and thanks to that, your work relationship had always been good ── you’ve never lied to him to stroke his ego. You were too busy wanting to stroke something else. Nanami let you slide your nasty comments about others, and he would share them, granting you some of their secrets.

He was a gossiper. He knew everything. You knew right there that lying would never work with him, so you just avoided to let him reach that horny part of yours that burned for him. Give him something else to sink his attention into. Your neck, you wanted, but rather you would feed him with gossips from your college classes, or what you got from Suguru Geto, your friend and Satoru’s assistant.

Now, you had already run out of distractions. Maybe that was his plan all along. If the world is correct, and it all falls down to Nanami’s desires, then maybe he was just waiting for you to crumble and admit. You had never been subtle with your eyes, anyway. That’s why he had been so fascinated about it, staring from time to time, trying to catch a glimpse of your true self, like a wishing star in a starry night.

The stars have gone dark, burned and busted away, when you come back to the meeting room and sit down on your designed chair, by his side. Nanami is focusing at you, again, like he needs more of your secrets at this moment. You have never gave him something so largue before, he is addicted.

But you, stubborn, appalled, stoic and all, think your plate of pasta is the most interesting thing in this whole world. You don’t eat much, because your throat is filled with all the words and screams you want to let out. You fear if you so much breathe loud, it will all come flooding this room.

“Are you annotating all of this in your head?” Nanami whispers in your ear, referring to the meeting now in progress. You sign no, and he sighs. “Your mind is far away, today.”

“Sorry.”

“What should I do with you?”

Someone coughs. An old man, standing by the edge of the table. He wants Nanami’s eyes on him, the praise, the goodness. Kento grants him half a smile, and that is not enough. Never will be. Everyone always wants more.

The lights are turned off when the projector is brought by Suguru, he comes and goes quickly, not before stealing a cookie from Satoru. That’s the first smile you present since the incident, and Nanami is back at staring at you with an intensity your heart fears but your pussy drips for. Are you scared? Petrified. And still, you are fucking horny.

He knows your secret, he is devoting his eyes to you, no matter what anyone else wants. He, in this moment, wants you. It might be because he needs to know what you meant, it might be because you are stroking his ego, finally. Or, you dare wonder, he is debating throwing you on that table and fucking you. Old men and Satoru aside, you wouldn’t mind. At all.

You take courage to look at him, and instantly you stare at his lips first, before his eyes. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me. You go back at eyeing the projector. He does the same a long beat later. An even longer one, he slowly puts his hand on your exposed thigh, skirt raised since you set down.

You try to not fail in your stoic face, but you do so anyway. Because, for fuck’s sake, Nanami Kento has his hands on your thigh, his thumb in circular movements. Your lips instinctively curl up, he snorts by your side before going back to his serious demeanor.

You thought he would just keep his hands there, as if testing the water but deciding to stay near the shore. That’s not his case, though. Nanami loves to go to the beach, to swim far away beyond the waves, he likes to get damped. His hand move closer, and you open your legs absentmindedly. He wants, you give. As much as you have wanted, and now he is giving you.

When his hands are pressing against your lacy underwear, you hear a little “Fuck” coming from his mouth. You’re soaking wet.

It’s hard to keep your breathing pattern steady when he is near you. Even more harder when he has one finger slowly penetrating you. For the outsider viewer, everything is normal, and the two of you are just concentrated on the projector screen. The truth is you have no idea what’s going on, and maybe neither does him. You want to moan, and tug his hair until he groans. And you want him to replace his finger with his cock. You stare at the annotation book, empty of your handwriting, and use the opportunity of your head down to hang your mouth open and close your eyes.

Nanami shifts his eyes to you, and he drowns himself into your fucked gaze, even more so when he puts another finger. He can’t linger much, or others will notice, so he decides to keep his movements fluid and calm, and to stare at you from time to time.

He can multitask. Of-fucking-course. He asks questions, answers, he acts as if he is one hundred percent into whatever is going on. The reality is different. The truth is all about his curling fingers pressing themselves in a place inside you that will forever mark his presence there. Like a secret plaything only for him, no one, not even you, will ever reach that. It’s like he is signing it with either his name only or a “Nanami was here.”

You want him to stay, forever. Stay inside you, slow pacing, curling, sensitive.

He can’t, because what feels like hours later, turns into minutes. Everyone is raising up to leave, and he moves out of you so fast, you clench around nothing ── had you been quicker, grabbed his fingers, they all would know. You don’t give a fuck, you want them too know.

“Go to my office.” He whispers before going the opposite direction of the exit, and staying back to talk with the others. You walk without a goodbye, creating an excuse when Satoru wants some of your time.

Inside his office, you feel like breathing for the first time. It’s confusing, like your lungs are new and not fully connected to your esophagus, so it comes up weird ── in a mixture of laugh and relief, salted with a “what the actual fuck”.

You want to stop and think of what’s happening or what’s to happen, but you never had the chance. It’s a second later, and you are being pressed against his, now, locked door. His arms holding your hips, his head resting on your neck, sulking your scent much like you do with his.

“You meant it, right?” He asks, bringing his face up to yours. “You want me to fuck you. Please, darling, say you do, because I need to fuck you now, or I’ll go crazy.”

“Yes, please, please.” Midway through your desperate nod, Nanami lunged at you, catching your lips in his and conducting the rhythm, the strength.

He was so, so good. In all ways. His slow fingers had your legs shaking and his eager kiss has your mind fogged. All that he does seems to be professional, but you know deep down, this effect is all because is made by him. Just his presence alone could have you hot and bothered, but to actually be touched by him, it’s like adding the fire to your gasoline self.

You had always been meant to be burned by Nanami.

He hoist you up against the door, for a quick second his hands kept clawing your thighs, until he walked you both to his desk. He let you down on it, and at the same time, his kisses moved to your neck and shoulder. You could feel the scrape of his teeth, tempted to mark you with a significant bite ── tell them I’m yours, you thought.

He groaned against your flustered skin, because he knew he couldn’t do that. Mark you, that’s it. Fuck you? Oh, that he can, that he will do.

“I need you to be really quiet for me.” His hands are quick on his belt, dropping it with a thud against the floor. He raises your skirt to your waist, Nanami grumbled under his breath with the sight of your underwear. He had touched the elaborate details earlier, but to see it was another story. White, see through, a pink ribbon on the top. “I’m going to rip it.”

“No, you’re not!” Raising your leg, you pushed him away. Eyes still hypnotized by your clothed cunt. You removed the piece with a satisfied smirk. It had been months since you started to wear those type of under-wears, hoping one day this situation would come.

No one wants to fuck their sexy boss with granny’s pants.

The cold table coming in contact with your intimacy made you moan a bit, and Nanami’s attention was back on you. There you were, beautifully waiting for him. Fuck-me eyes, pleading mouth, hands gripping the edge of the desk. You were at his mercy, had been for a while now. And he? Well, Nanami was yours now, that’s what matter.

One of his fingers, the same one he had penetrated you earlier, came back inside you. Smearing itself with your wetness. His other hand gripped your hips, bringing you closer, and making him go deeper. There, right fucking there. He curled, and thrusted, and another two more out of nowhere.

Cruelty was not on the way he was ravishing your cunt, but the biting of your teeth on your hand. You have to be quiet, follow his orders, but Nanami seemed to want to make you scream. Let everyone know that he is fucking you. Nearly fucking you.

Combining this movements with the ones of earlier, you feel your insides getting tighter. He senses as well, and raises his peace once more. But, again, your legs push him away. Nanami doesn’t like that, he comes back quick, wet fingers anxious to reclaim their place inside you, but you sign no, and he halts. That’s it. The man that controls everyone, and he is at your mercy.

“I want to cum on your cock.” Maybe is the sweet and diabolical way you say, or the tilting of your head with a charming smile. What matters is, he complies right away. His pants fall, he takes off his blazer, and not a second later you are presented with what you’ve been craving for months.

Like a pregnant lady, you almost cry and fall on your knees, finally having your desire attended. He doesn’t want that either, instead Nanami takes a condom from his wallet. Before he puts it, his waiting fingers touch your cunt again, grabbing a bit of your liquid and smearing it on himself. You nearly ask him to throw the condom away.

Is a sinful sight. All of this. You on the desk, legs wide open. He in front of you, adjusting himself on the condom. Both groaning when he, fucking finally, align with your entrance, and slowly gets in. He is largue, and thick, and preparation might have been necessary had you not been daydreaming of this moments months ago.

Had he not been himself, that man that makes you drip with just a “good morning”, this might have hurt. Instead, it’s exhilarating to be parted by his cock. The condom does not stop you from feeling his veins tickling your walls, or his tip finally setting near your cervix. That was fucking new. Pleasant and scary, and fucking welcome as well.

“Say it again,” He asks, hands on both your hips and eyes looking over yours. Waiting for the stars to fall over the two of you. “tell me to fuck you.”

“Fuck m──” He doesn’t wait for you to end before he removes himself, and going back with a gushing sound. You nearly scream out of pleasure, but in the last second, you bite your lips strong enough to draw some blood. “Mmh, you fucking a-asshole.” He snorts at that, before slapping your thigh.

Seems that Nanami can do all the noises he wants. He groans against your skin, head hanging low to stare at the way you pussy suck his dick in and out. You have always been a good girl ── his good girl. Taking all the he gave you. Mostly work related, and now his cock. You truly were made just for him.

“You feel so fucking good, baby.” A moan scapes your hands, and he doesn’t bother spanking your leg again. He called you baby, and you’re strangling his dick perfectly. You can shout at this point, he is pussy fucked.

Removing your hands from your mouth, you decide to do something much better than guarding your pleasure. Instead, you open his button-up blue shirt. A dream come through, is what this day will be remembered as. Specially now, where he lets you do as you pleases, and you have the sight of his pecks ── bronzed from a beach trip he took last week, and glistening with sweat for your recent activities. You moaned again, before going for it, and marking him.

Nanami allowed you to do so. He only cared about holding your hips and raise your lower body, so he could make you meet his thrusts halfway. He didn’t hold a care in the world about his groaning getting louder, or the burning on his neck and chest caused by your eager mouth and teeth. Fuck that. Fuck everyone. The only thing he truly wanted was to be inside of you forever. To be planted in this moment of his life, on loop, being marked by you, having his cock milked out by your dripping cunt. That’s what his life was made for.

Nanami Kento had this aura that made everyone scramble for him and his left-overs, as a way to keep close. To say they have something that once was his. Because everyone knew that Nanami was no one’s property. This moment, this fuck, this pussy proved that statement to be contraire ── he was yours. From the first day he saw you and specially one hour ago, when he had eaten your cookie and you told him to fuck you. He knew right then that he would shift the whole balance of the world to give you what you want.

And if that’s his aching cock, fucking be it. It’s yours. You’re taking it so good, and barely paying attention to it. He keeps bruising your cervix, and you respond with little whimpers and more bites. He quicken his peace, you close your legs around his waist, as if giving him more opening.

A perfect synchrony.

“Wan’ to cum.” You mumble just right after he senses your wall get tight.

“C’mon, baby, ugh, cum f’me.”

“Mmh, fuck, ngha.”

You do right after, going limp on his arms, he slow his thrusting with a snort and laying you down on the desk. He shuffles something by your dazed-self side, before he brings a black sharpie near your cleavage. He kisses and licks and sucks on it, before opening the pen with his mouth, and signing a straight line.

“How many more can you give me, pretty?” You don’t answer in words, but with more quiet whimpers, when his thrusts go back to pounding you in a maniac pace. He holds your neck down, leaning to kiss you through your beautiful moans.

You’re sensitive, he knows. Because you keep closing more and more around his length, trying to make him cum, unknown to you that it only makes you closer to coming again. You hit your head on the desk when trying to follow his departed lips, Nanami has your neck again on his mouth, tasting your sweat and lotion, and all you can give him. It’s only when he bites it slightly, you release yourself once more.

“Mmph, fuck, fuck, argh.”

Nanami keeps jerking his hips onto yours, not even having cum once. He takes pleasure in yours, you can see. With a proud smirk, he grabs the sharpie once more, but this time, he makes a diagonal line that touches the top of the first.

“Mhm──!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, baby. Just a bit more.” He cooed at you, sweet tone diverging from his animalistic movements.

You’re not complaining, not even regretting. So you keep yourself down and let Nanami control both of yours fun. He is ruthless in his pace and fantastic with his kisses, he doesn’t mind your moaning anymore, or the fact that everyone on your floor already knows. What can they do? Stop you? Nanami will rip everyone apart and just return to your pussy. Threaten him? No one would dare. He is still their sweetheart, their most sacred prize, beautiful and shinning to look at. Never to have.

“I’m, ugh, I’m yours.” He grunts.

This time, you sense a shift in his thrusts. So methodical now sloppy, and his cock kept twitching inside of you, sending more waves of pleasure to your core. Yes, fucking finally, he was near.

“All fucking m──mine.” You agreed with his words, grabbing the back of his neck and slamming your lips together. “I’m yours, always had been.”

Nanami can’t even control himself anymore. He groans and pants as he releases himself inside you. With a mist of swearing and praises you could barely decipher. After all, his own release had triggered yours.

When you both had come back from the high, Nanami raised himself from your chest, and kissed you, tongues intertwining, teeth clashing and biting. When he parted, leaving you breathless, he had then pen in his hand again. It touched your skin, once more, connecting from the bottom of his last line, going up straight.

It’s a “N”.

“You think we can spell my name?” He asks, leaving your inside to throw his condom out. He opens a drawer, where a box with more is presented.

“That would be more 17 fucks.” You support your weight on your elbows while counting.

“It’s that a no?”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up your throat, before beckoning him closer. He does right away, kissing you hungrily once more. As if he is trying to record forever the taste of your mouth. He has your hair in his fists, pushing it back so he can go back to your, now, heavily marked neck.

“Let’s see how far can we go.” You indulge into his crazy erotic idea.

Nanami smiles triumphantly. He removes himself from your body, but doesn’t put condoms, instead, he falls on his knees, diving straight for your pussy.

Hours later, the sun beginning to set on the horizon, you leave his locked office with a smug smirk and timid eyes. Both accompanied by messy hair, flushed cheeks, marked neck and… “Nana” written on your chest.

“We’ll finish this later.” He comes behind you, closing his shirt, but letting the top buttons opened enough to catch a glimpse of your love marks on his chest. Specially the one with “Mine” marked in it.

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stellarsecrets86 · 1 month ago

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Magnetic & Obsessive Synastry Observations

✨ Moon in 8th house – The house person is emotionally naked in the presence of the Moon person, who seems to penetrate deep into their soul. The Moon person gets deeply attached, almost psychic in sensing the house person's inner turmoil.

✨ Pluto conjunct Moon – The Moon person is overwhelmed, emotionally possessed, and very vulnerable to the Pluto person, who may feel like a puppet master.

✨ Venus in 12th house – – The house person has secret, unconscious fantasies about the Venus person and dreams of them and has an inexplicable attraction to them.

✨ Mars square Pluto – The Mars individual is in over their head, as though their needs are being manipulated by Pluto. Pluto, meanwhile, is attracted to Mars' wild passion and ability to stir them up.

✨ Saturn conjunct Sun – – The Sun person is cramped and too dependent on the Saturn person, who secretly controls. Saturn, on the other hand, is deeply devoted but expresses it through coldness or bossiness.

✨ Neptune opposite Venus – The Venus person becomes delusional and envisions Neptune as an imaginary lover even when reality does not work out. Neptune prefers it but disappears when Venus is seeking something tangible.

✨ Pluto in 7th house – The house person becomes dominated by the Pluto person in the relationship, becoming both obsessed and fearful of losing them.

✨ Mars trine Lilith – The Mars individual is drawn irrevocably to the eroticism of the Lilith person. The Lilith individual is thrilled to be leading Mars off into taboo, dark corners.

✨ Chiron conjunct Venus – The Venus individual is drowning in agony and healing through the Chiron person. They intuit that Chiron understands their very worst wounds, but also unleashes them.

✨ Pluto opposite Venus – The Venus person falls in love, hungering for Pluto's intensity. Pluto enjoys the control but can be emotionally aloof.

✨ Mars in 8th house – The house person is sexually attracted to Mars. They feel as if Mars has some sort of mysterious power over them, which awakens primitive needs.

✨ Venus conjunct Mars – The Mars individual must "act" to attract Venus, but Venus naturally radiates charm.

✨ Eros conjunct Sun – The Sun person senses they are being loved by Eros, and Eros feels as if they have found their ideal lover.

✨ Lilith conjunct Ascendant – The Ascendant person is revealed, as though Lilith sees the worst in them. The Lilith person is completely drawn by their pure presence.

✨ Mars opposite Ascendant (Descendant conjunction) – The Ascendant person is attractive and infuriating to Mars, and Mars courts them aggressively.

✨ Pluto conjunct Mars – The Mars person is completely enamored with Pluto, and Pluto delights in teasing Mars and finding out how far they will let them go.

✨ Venus trine Pluto – The Venus person is attracted to Pluto, but Pluto is the one with the behind-the-scenes power in the relationship.

✨ Eros trines Moon – The Moon person is overwhelmed by Eros, who is romantically intoxicating for them, and Eros feels Moon is emotionally safe but hugely erotic.

✨ 5th house Venus – The house person thinks Venus is their romantic fantasy come true, discovering them to be their perfect lover.

✨ Mars square Venus – The Venus person is turned off by Mars' raw passion, and Mars is immediately aroused by Venus' magnetism.

✨ Saturn conjunct Moon – The Moon person is emotionally needy of Saturn, but Saturn feels obligated and could be emotionally unavailable.

✨ Pluto square Ascendant – The Ascendant person is unsettled by Pluto's intense gaze and authority, while Pluto is attracted to transforming them.

✨ Juno conjunct Pluto – The Juno person wants Pluto as a permanent partner, even if it means enduring emotional agony.

✨ South Node conjunct Venus – The Venus person feels as if they have met an old flame and instantly feel at ease but bear karmic baggage.

✨ North Node conjunct Mars – The Mars person is drawn to the Node person as if they have unfinished business. The North Node person feels obliged but awed by Mars' energy.

✨ Pluto in 1st house – The house person feels Pluto has a spooky impact on his or her identity. Pluto prefers the quiet domination.

✨ Neptune square Sun – The Sun person feels Neptune is their fantasy and also an illusion. Neptune is an elusive fish, uncatchable.

✨ Venus in 8th house – The house person is tormented by Venus and cannot shake them from their mind. Venus adores this power but maybe less committed.

✨ Moon opposite Pluto – The Moon person believes Pluto is emotionally dangerous but impossible to ignore. Pluto is obsessed but more confident.

✨ Saturn trine Venus – The Venus individual is secure and devoted, and Saturn esteems Venus as valuable and deserving of long-term devotion.

✨ Mercury conjunct Pluto – – The Mercury individual is captivated by Pluto's intellect and craves strong, revolutionary conversation. Pluto enjoys dominance over Mercury's intellect.

✨ Jupiter in 8th house – The house person feels an expansive, almost spiritual rapport with Jupiter and views them as a life-alterer.

✨ Mars conjunct Descendant – The Mars person is pushy with the house person, whereas the house person is fascinated by them but too much for them to take.

✨ Lilith square Moon – The Moon person is emotionally upset but attracted to Lilith's wild, unpredictable quality. Lilith stirs Moon's hidden fears and desires.

#astrology #astro community #astro observations #astro notes #horoscope #birth chart #composite chart #synastry observations #sun in synastry #moon in synastry #synastry aspects #venus in synastry #synastry #synastry chart #synastry reading #synastry astrology #astrology notes #astrology community #astrology readings

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trinketstar · 10 months ago

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The Amazing Toybox Circus!

A storybook - Part 1

Once upon a time, there was a very old toy shop.

An unremarkable sort of place with very few visitors. The shelves were lined with antique curiosities which had collected dust over the years.

Among these, atop a colorful wooden toy chest, was a simple kaleidoscope. It was inscribed with a strange design of teeth and eyes, and a poem about a magical circus.

...

Now, one might imagine the type of person would walk into such a place. Perhaps someone who has worked far too hard. Someone who feels unsatisfied with the tedium of every day life, and who longs for an escape into the fantastical world of imagination that playthings can inspire. This sort of person might look through a kaleidoscope and dream, just for a moment, of a new life filled with bright color, of fun and adventure.

This was the sort of person who suddenly woke up on the floor, surrounded by darkness and extremely confused.

Feeling dizzy and thoughts hazy, she righted herself and began to wander. A soft jingling noise followed her with every step, though she paid it no mind. There were more pressing issues at the moment.

She strained her mind trying to remember how she could have possibly ended up here. She clearly remembered entering a toy shop, but her thoughts beyond this were blank besides a vivid image of swirling colors. Red and blue spirals. All she knew at the moment was that she felt terribly afraid, and very very small.

Timidly, she called out-

"HELLO, MY NEWEST SUPERSTAR!"

An enormous wooden ventriloquist dummy suddenly burst from the shadows. His painted eyes gleamed, one blue, one green. His wooden teeth chattered as he loomed overhead. He pulled a white balloon on a string, which sported an equally large toothy grin.

The sight was positively terrifying.

"Welcome to the amazing toybox circus!"

"The ... the toybox what?" She squeaked in response.

"Why, the toybox circus of course! You're sure to have a grand time, my dear! " She was suddenly lifted up to meet his unsettling wooden gaze.

"My name is Caine! I'm your ringmaster," he continued at an unnecessarily loud volume.

"My dear, you've entered a wonderful world of whimsy and adventure, where anything can happen! Soon you'll meet your new friends and we shall put on a show!"

He spun her around before setting her down on the floor again.

The girl was speechless. Be part of a circus? Led by a talking puppet? Surely this was all a strange dream!

"I'm sorry, sir," she eventually said, somehow managing to speak politely considering the circumstances. "But I really must be getting home! If you'd kindly show me the way-"

"Oh but you simply must stay for the performance, my dear! I've prepared all sorts of activities that are sure to delight! Oh the audience will love you! You shall be the star attraction!"

The puppet was very insistent. At a loss, the girl considered her options were either to continue wandering the darkness or to trust this "ringmaster". Now she was an intelligent young lady, but she was also a curious sort. After all, curiosity was what brought her here in the first place, and curiosity compelled her to see what would happen next...

So despite better judgement, she finally said -

Hesitant but hopeful. Perhaps this would be interesting? At the very least, she could play along until finding a way out of this strange place, out of the toyshop and back home. Or until she woke up, as this was likely a dream after all.

"At any rate, this may be fun," she hoped out loud.

Something cackled from atop a large shelf. The silhouette was that of a rabbit, but with a wide yellow grin.

"Heh HEH! You'll soon see, little clown," he said, before hopping out of sight.

What an odd place this was...

----part 2 coming soon!

#the amazing digital circus #tadc #pomni #caine #jax #tadc au #toybox circus #my art #theres a lot of Alice in wonderland here

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itertarot · 2 months ago

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Tarot | Future Spouse

What fantasies will your Future Spouse have about you when they lay their head on the pillow before falling asleep? +18

Close your eyes and take a deep breathe, if you don't feel drawn to any image it's okay, I'll be doing more piles soon. This ain't supposed to be an +18 reading so i won't dive deeper in their sexual thoughts now.

Pile One:

If they are a man:

Your future spouse will think of you every night as the moon rises in the sky. In the most intimate moments, before falling asleep, they will feel deeply emotional and connected to you. It's as if the silence of the night intensifies the emotional and spiritual bond you share. It wouldn't be surprising if they have an intuitive and sensitive Moon in their birth chart, under the moonlight their heart will allow itself to feel the love that overflows between the two of you. You are, without exaggeration, the biggest love of his life. The feelings they have for you are tender, fluid, calm, but also passionate, affectionate and intense. Your future spouse will think not only of you, but of the family you will build together. They will fantasise about simple details like making you coffee just to see you smile (and they love your smile), or tucking you in with a blanket on cold nights and watching you sleep with a deep sense of gratitude. They will take care of you, making sure you are warm, fed and happy. Every gesture, big or small, will be filled with meaning and etched in their minds and hearts. But this relationship is not all about affection and tenderness. Your future husband will be skilled (especially in their hands if you get me) and attentive, both emotionally and physically. He will have a touch that will make you discover pleasures you never knew were possible. He will be curious and devoted, always looking for new ways to bring you to your climax, like an explorer in search of hidden treasures. They will want to be the best for you, the only one who can fully satisfy you, like a magician who knows all the secrets of your body and soul, imagining they put their hands all over you especially you clitoris and vulva.

If they are a woman:

Your future wife will be a deeply romantic and family-orientated woman, possibly fitting the profile of a tradwife. She is highly intuitive and gifted with spiritual qualities, probably brought up in a religious environment which has made her deeply attached to values such as chastity. It's possible she's a virgin, saving herself for the person she considers chosen to share her life with and explore the mysteries of pleasure together. But being so reserved and modest made her fantasies revolve around finding someone to take her on this journey of discovery, someone to show her how far the body and soul can go in terms of intimacy and connection. She wants someone to "corrupt" her in a loving way, to guide her like a puppet, but with care and respect, transforming her into a freer, more submissive version of herself. In her fantasies she imagines a partner who has complete control over her, someone who holds her firmly but with skilful and gentle hands. In this scenario, you are the person she has chosen to be her guide, the one who will teach her what true pleasure and deep intimacy feel like.

But don't be mistaken: although there is a strong element of submission in her fantasies, this is mainly due to her inexperience and her desire to break free from the chastity that has always protected her. Your future wife is above all a romantic. She is sensitive, both emotionally and physically, and may be vulnerable to pain. It is therefore essential that you are gentle, patient and attentive to her needs. She will fantasise about how great amd skilful you're in bed.

Pile Two:

If they are a man:

Your future spouse has an intense and exhausting routine, with days filled with tasks and responsibilities. When they finally come home and lay their head on the pillow, their greatest desire is to rest and soothe their aching body after a long day. They are not the type to live in a world of imagination but rather someone practical who prefers action over dreaming. However, when they allow themselves to dive into thoughts about you, even if rarely, their reflections revolve around when things will change, when your lives will finally find peace and stability. They long for the day when you can live together as a family, in harmony and tranquility. Your future spouse works to the point of exhaustion, not just out of obligation but because they want to feel worthy of you. They want to offer you a stable and comfortable life, proving that they are capable of providing and taking care of you. Their fantasies, as simple as they may be, are centered around proving themselves deserving of your love and earning your recognition. They imagine the moment when they will finally have the courage to approach you, especially because, in their thoughts, you are always surrounded by people, as if you were someone admirable and unattainable. They find you incredibly beautiful and feel inspired by your presence.

When it comes to intimacy, your future spouse may have an attraction to spontaneous and passionate moments. They fantasize, for example, about taking you home and, after a goodbye kiss, things heating up so much that you end up giving in to desire in the car. The idea of having your body so close to theirs in such a tight and private space excites them, creating a feeling of unique and intense connection. They also have a fantasy of having sex in the beach, something about the sand on your body, the sound of the sea and open landscape is very exciting for your future spouse, they also love the smell of your body after spending the day on the beach.

If they are a woman:

The fantasy of your future wife revolves around you being the person who will rescue her from the exhausting and draining life she currently leads. She dreams of the moment when you will take the initiative, stepping in to take control of the situation and approaching her with sincere and captivating charm. In her thoughts, she imagines the family you will build together, the cozy home you will share, and the financial stability you will achieve as a team. To her, you are the right person, the one she wants to marry and share a full, happy life with. However, her current reality is quite harsh. She is exhausted, working tirelessly and feeling like the "Cinderella" of her own story, a modern version of Cinderella, trapped in a routine that brings her no fulfillment. The constant fatigue prevents her from diving deeply into romantic thoughts or sexual fantasies, as she barely has time to rest. Despite this, she can’t help but look at you during the day, seeking your presence as a refuge, even from afar. Your proximity makes her nervous but also excited, as if you were a beacon of hope amidst her draining routine. She wants to feel special, cared for, and, above all, safe by your side. And when you finally come closer to her, she will be ready to give you not only her heart but her efforts and dreams.

Pile three:

If they are a man:

You, my dear, are the "damsel" your future spouse dreams of rescuing, but with an important detail: you are no helpless princess. He fantasizes about being the knight in shining armor, the one who enters the tower to save the beautiful, seemingly vulnerable damsel. This is, without exaggeration, the image he creates in his mind. However, he knows very well that you don’t need saving. In fact, he sees you as an extremely independent, self-assured woman, completely capable of handling everything on your own. In a way, you even intimidate him. Your future husband sees you as the "queen bee," the most beautiful, the most admirable, always surrounded by friends and admirers. There's even a song that fits perfectly called Miss Independent by Ne-Yo. You are so confident, radiant, and self-sufficient that he creates scenarios in his head where he can prove himself useful, just to earn a bit of your attention. He wants to be your Prince Charming, the one who shows you that, with him, you can relax and let your guard down. He wants to prove that, if needed, he’ll be there to take care of you. But deep down, he deeply admires the strong, independent woman you are, and that’s one of the reasons he feels so drawn to you.

When it comes to sexual fantasies, he imagines you giving yourself to him as a reward for being your hero. However, he doesn’t delve too deeply into these thoughts because there’s a great deal of respect and admiration involved. He spends more time imagining what it would be like to feel your body even before removing your clothes, or what your kiss might taste like. Kisses, by the way, are a recurring theme in his fantasies, he catches himself thinking about how it would feel to touch your lips, to feel your breath close to his. But because he sees you as a princess, he struggles to take these thoughts to a "dirtier" or more obscene place. To him, you are someone to be adored, not just desired.

If they are a woman:

In the fantasy of your future wife, she sees herself as a powerful queen, the ruler of her own kingdom. She is independent, confident, and has everything she desires in life, except for one thing: a bold and charming knight, and that knight is you. She sees you as someone full of energy, sociable, courageous, and with an irresistible sense of humor. Your daring and boldness deeply attract her, and she admires the way you naturally charm everyone around you. In her fantasies, you win her over with your smooth lines and magnetic presence. She imagines what your scent must be like, how your body feels after a day of activities, and what you look like beneath your clothes. And yes, she will notice that you’re in great shape ( it doesn't matter if you don't see yourself as hot, she will for sure), it will only fascinate her even more. She fantasizes about the two of you going out together, attending a party, starting to drink and dance until the chemistry between you becomes irresistible. At the peak of sexual tension, she imagines that you won’t be able to control yourselves anymore and will need to find a quick, secluded place to finally give in to the desire that burns between you.

She has a very high sex drive, and her fantasies involve many passionate scenes in risky or unusual places, where the thrill of being caught only heightens the excitement. She also fantasizes about the size of your penis (if you have one), imagining what it would feel like to have you inside her. Moaning in your ear is something she would love to do, using her voice to make you even more aroused and connected to her. She wants you to be the knight who challenges and conquers her, but also the one who makes her feel safe and desired. Deep down, she knows that by your side, she can be both the powerful queen and the woman who surrenders completely to the pleasure and passion you share, but don't be fooled she don't like to give up her control.

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toskarin · 4 months ago

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Any tips for writing politics and political intrigue? Especially non earth based politics

these are some very general "this may or may not work for you" points that inform how I tend to think about that sort of stuff

individuals rarely do things, and when it seems like they do, it's usually much larger groups finding it beneficial to elevate a comprehensible figurehead for some reason or other

people, being animals with needs, tend to do things for reasons even if they're not good reasons

borders follow land features, and a jagged border implies as much as a straight one because political entities tend to hold onto things for reasons

things often happen for very stupid and frustrating reasons, the more mundane, the more impenetrable

not everyone remembers the actual reason they started doing something, but they can find new reasons if need be

even true misunderstandings tend to spring from a material interest in understanding things a certain way

administrative hypocrisy is rarely irrational or even unconscious. it usually just means there is a reason to obscure and distort a more inconvenient interest

every level of government bureaucracy moves faster than an individual could possibly imagine while also moving slower than an individual could possibly see

the larger the territory, the more administration, the more delegation, the more fractured the centralisation of power

annexation is rarer than the average person assumes it is, and client/puppet/etc states are rarely called such by name

the tradition of dead generations hangs like a nightmare

there is no such thing as a truly singular government. everywhere in the world (and off of it, if that were the case) is several smaller places in a trenchcoat, all the way down forever

there is no sharp line delineating culture, religion, and law

the problem with political conspiracy is that everyone loves talking about how clever they are for being part of something clever. there are no true secrets

the average person, the atomic individual, actually doesn't care that much about the letter of the law. this is also true at all levels of administration

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mythalism · 17 days ago

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You likely don't remember me, but I'm the anon who asked you a few weeks ago, "why would anyone think Solas would choose Lavellan over Mythal." Thank you for replying to it the way you did. It actually inspired me to play DAI, seeing how passionate you were about Solavellan.

I finished Trespasser last Friday, and I must say I FUCKING GET IT NOW. I ABSOLUTELY DO. That bald bitch has crawled his way into my brain and pussy.

I was mildly irritated by him in Veilguard. I sneered at Lavellan's lovey-dovey "let me join you in your prison." I didn't know their lore, indeed. You were absolutely right, the tastiest parts happen outside of the three kissing scenes they had in DAI. His personal quest? Blew my fucking mind. What he says during Cole's quest? I'm on my knees. ("We cannot change our nature by wishing," Solas says and looks straight at Lavellan. Or his reply to Varric's "He could have been a person." is, "Would that have made him happier, child of the Stone?")

Everything about how Solavellan was written in DAI resonates. Her first flirt with him is "I will protect you." His passionate speech on spirits? (The youtube compilation I watched didn’t have it, so it was such a treat to see it for the first time and finally be able to enter discourse on this!) I loved how the flirt is "I look forward to help you make new friend wink-wink," which makes him FLUSTERED. YET he approves way more if you actually consider his point of view and say spirits (and by extension him) are real people!

I had no idea how protective and private he was over romance with the Inquisitor in DAI (he shuts down Sera and Cassandra right away). So while I would absolutely have liked him to speak more on Lavellan in Veilguard, especially after experiencing the romance for myself, I do also see now why he would be quite unwilling to open up to Rook of all people. (When I heard his "There are few regrets sharper than watching fools squander what you sacrificed to achieve," I thought of Rook right away, lol. Oh, what irony.)

The Temple of Mythal quest and the conversation with him afterwards made me dizzy. What do you mean Mythal has a bunch of elves chained to her will, doing her bidding for millennia, and she never visits?? What do you mean she used whoever drank from the Well as her puppet?? What do you mean she wants a reckoning that will shake the heavens?? How on earth are NONE of those things referenced in the direct sequel??? Why is she portrayed as a noble martyr, when she was clearly part of the issue? (Vallaslin are SLAVE MARKINGS, and I may be dumb, but I never heard that in Veilguard for some reason?? And Solas HAD HERS on his FACE???? I only now understand the "I release you from my service" bit.)

His "I begged you not to drink from the Well" hit me. (I made my Lavellan do it, btw. At that point I thought, ofc nothing bad will come of this decision, I know Mythal to be a spirit of benevolence and kindness. LOL!!!! Then Flemeth overrides my Inquisitor's will for something as minor as chastising her daughter. And that was a kinder version of Mythal, who lived among mortals for centuries, apparently? xD) As did his "Everything you do, whether you know it or not, will be for her." And "I know that mistake well enough to carve the angles of her face from memory."

Mind-blowing. And everything about Trespasser obliterated the remains of my brain. Companion comments on Solas leaving?? What Cole said about him??? Lavellan's words after witnessing the mural of him removing vallaslin from slaves?? He had agents??? He had plans???? Elves joined him???? He visited her dreams, looking like a sad wet puppy???

Trespasser was such a fantastic setup. It had everything. I genuinely have never experienced a drama and romantic tragedy in a video game the way I did with Solavellan in that DLC. AND I knew Veilguard would have them reunited. I can only imagine how it was for people who played it on release, not knowing. The wait? The theorizing? The heartbreak?

It is a superior ship, no doubt about it. "I look at you and I see what you truly are" (DING DING, memory of Duet codex was actually inspired by what he said to Lavellan??) "You are unique. In all Thedas I never expected to find someone who can DRAW MY ATTENTION FROM THE FADE" (now I fucking see why she is singular and special to him!). "Ar lasa mala revas. You are free." Var lath vir suledin???????????!!!!!!!!

Fuuuuuuuuuck. lights a cigarette On the flipside, now I clearly see what a wet disgrace Veilguard's writing was. Absolute assassination of the meatiest plot points (the Well? Mythal’s reckoning?? Solas's entire drive to save his people??). Also, it was dumb not to utilize his romance with Lavellan more. Like—have people hate her for this! Hello? Your Chantry Herald had a lover who wants to destroy the world. Any comments, everyone?

Sorry for so much rambling. I'm still processing my emotions. What a game. What a weirdly hot, soul-crushing, heartbreaking love story. And they are together in the Fade now, for eternity...*SIGH*

i hope you know i was cackling with glee as i read this message. i am so so so so glad you played inquisition and trespasser and had such a wonderful time. it is so fun to witness the brain worm overtaking someone in real time. welcome to hell and please feel free to come share your thoughts and continue to process any time <3

#fave #asks #and you're right that veilguard does not mention the vallaslin as slave markings lol

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fallloverfic · 1 year ago

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Yeah I totally agree, I don't see Milsiril's actions in re: Mithrun in particular as manipulative at all, at least in so far as "this is an actionable plan related to Kabru". It's manipulative at best in the sense that she's trying to get Mithrun out of a corpse-like state, because just telling him to move or he'll die/waste away is not working. She literally nearly mercy-killed him because the alternative was considered worse. Literally when she comes to visit him later, she starts with this:

"They said you've fully recovered, but you might as well be a corpse."

It's been ~19 years, and active care by caretakers paid by rich elves has not worked (in fact, judging by Daydream Hour, it's led to self-harm more than anything else). The sight of an old friend/comrade/one of the people who rescued him has not worked. Insulting him is not working. Trying to be friendly is not working. So what does she try?

Both times she initially interacts with him post-demon, when they discover him in the ruins of the dungeon, and when she comes to visit him, she is notably surprised at his reaction specifically to talking about the demon.

Left: Milsiril being shocked and a bit depressed that the demon is what is giving Mithrun a will to survive (Volume 9, Chapter 62, Kabru's retelling of Mithrun's story)

Right: Milsiril again being alarmed that the demon is what is giving Mithrun the will to get up (Adventurer's Bible).

She is actually more ambivalent in pretty much every other moment we see her with Mithrun, other than being sad (or nervous), until he reacts to this.

This isn't a kindness, and she knows it, and it's not much else, either. But it's the best he can have. Because the alternative is being a living corpse.

Mithrun in a way has kind of active suicidal ideation, and she's giving him a way out (though she doesn't know she's actually enabling him). In my experience, with mental health issues at least similar to this, you grab on to what you can, even if the thing you're grabbing kind of sucks. It's whatever gets you through the day. And Milsiril feels guilt because she didn't reach out to him before. A lot could have changed if she had. So she's trying to make up for it by helping now in the only way she can.

partially in response to this post but also some more general thoughts regarding Milsiril, Mithrun and Kabru

Personally I just disagree, I just don't think its realistic in the slightest for Milsiril to trust that Mithrun, of all people, the man who has to be reminded to piss, is capable of eliminating the demon in every dungeon long enough for Kabru to be safe from them forever.

The secret of the dungeons, the demon, has been a thing the elves and dwarves have been wary of ever since the ancients. Even if Mithrun was in his peak form I highly doubt he'd be capable of doing away with every dungeon, it's just not feasible especially considering the neutered size of the Canaries after Utaya.

I think if she really cared about threat of the dungeon's to Kabru, she'd take care of it herself and not leave it to the guy who is literally just trying to get the demon to eat the rest of him.

I think Milsiril's real purpose of being involved in both Kabru and Mithrun's backstories is more narrative than manipulative.

Milsiril directs Mithrun back to the dungeon because she thinks its the only thing he can care about.

I think this is supposed to be in contrast to what Kabru says to Mithrun in Chapter 94, that Mithrun can find other desires unrelated to the demon, unrelated to revenge. Mithrun is in catatonic states for both times, and Milsiril and Kabru find different reasons to rouse him from that state.

In a way I think Kabru and Mithrun are what Milsiril and (Predungeon Lord) Mithrun could've been- Milsiril only realized Mithrun and her were alike and would've gotten along. I think her "kindness" (if you can call convincing someone to go back into the torture labyrinth is kindness) is to the potential friend he could've been.

#dungeon meshi #this is how I feel #I have no idea what the other post is on but no lol #milsiril's being kind in her own way and it's dark and disturbing #but idk if the alternative is being a literal corpse as she describes it #giving him a reason to get up as he literally does when she mentions it #is a kindness in a way #he may die but he'll go down fighting #not staring at a ceiling #and she's seen enough of him to know that's probably what he prefers #also these are official translations #also Mithrun getting weird advice from his inner self very likely isn't hinting at like actual reality roflmao #he's got mental health problems he isn't psychically seeing into her secret puppet plans #if anything his inner self is saying she wants to be rewarded for helping him as we are shown in her imagined vision of his reaction #perhaps more than actually help him #which is nice because it's a reflection on bad allyship #with someone wanting the credit for helping rather than focusing on the person in need #and how a lot of caretakers view people in need of care as burdens rather than as people #and also that idealizing disabled people as saints rather than seeing them for who they are isn't great #anyway I haven't finished editing my Milsiril & Mithrun fic and this is prompting me to do that #mithrun

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tadc-harlequin-au · 6 months ago

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Pls, pls, pls, what would Caine and Pomni look like if they switched places with each other? Pretty please 🥺

A roleswap, huh? Alright. let's do this.

It was actually a very difficult challenge to do a roleswap with Pomni and Caine, simply because of how wired their personalities and backstories are to their roles, purposes and designs to the world of the Harlequin AU.

Pomni on this version wears a simplified Harlequin mask to hide her face, and I also gave her a marotte, commonly known as "fool's staff" or a jester staff. Obviously, coat on shoulders to signify authority and because I am a whoreeee

Caine on the other side, is more-so like, a puppet version of a gentleman assassin, in which his getup is as sharp as his weapons. He carries a modified cane that's styled like a morning star (those spike ball mace things), and the tip of his cane is very sharp. His hat finally makes a return, because he's gotta look snazzy

Underneath his teeth are purely mechanisms and a pair of mismatched eyes, unlike his canon counterpart which has organic features.

I may expand on this idea of a roleswap more and make it more intriguing by adding lore to it, but as of the moment I'm on that brainstorming state.

The Harlequin AU's story wasn't written in a day, after all

#thanks for the ask!#tadc #tadc au #harlequin au #tadc harlequin au #the amazing digital circus #pomni #caine #role swap #tadc pomni #tadc caine #I think they should kiss #like. sloppily make out #with some tongue action #don't question me

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insirisarts · 1 month ago

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Poppy Avenue - Part 1: The Auditions

Original concept by @babyblankyerror

Expanded by @aroace-get-out-of-my-face

This was a bad idea, Stanley Pines decided.

Come on, what was he thinking? Voice acting, really? He had been smoking since 17 and he thought, even if only for a moment, that he could voice act. And it had only taken that stupid little moment for him to decide not only that he could do that, but as a puppet for a kids show. A. Kids. Show. No wonder everyone thought he was an idiot.

Stan wanted to run and go die in a ditch somewhere. Hell, that may be just what he does after whatever producers tell him to fuck right off. What was the studio called again? What was the show even called? Pepper str- no, sesame… road? Whatever, it didn’t matter. All Stan knew was that he was royally screwed.

Why did he think he could do this again? Maybe it was nostalgia, remembering all of his favorite kids shows. Maybe he thought that he could sham these show folks out of their equipment. Maybe… He just wanted a chance at something normal. He was getting nowhere with his StanCo products, and wasting all of his money on new commercials wasn’t really in his current budget. Besides, it wasn't like he was really risking that much here.

The production was small. Very small. The fact that the flyers stapled throughout the city stated that they would take anyone willing to lend their voice or hands was proof enough. The fact that they let Stan, in all of his smelly, dirty, homeless glory, inside was proof enough. Although, he probably shouldn't have been that surprised. Hardly anyone else was at the auditions. Granted it didn’t help that this was happening early on a Wednesday. Not to mention, all of them were young. Stan was probably the oldest guy there. And it was also likely that, like him, no one here had any experience to speak of.

Although, who were these big-ish wigs, to judge? They were holding auditions in a dinky old warehouse that smelt like a gas spill and sadness. Stan wasn’t really able to say anything though. Already it was better than the Stanmobile, even though he would never dare say such things to the old girl, being far more insulated and protected from the outside elements. At least Stan would be protected from the early March weather here.

Looking around, he counted at least ten other people who had arrived for the auditions, three older teens and the rest young adults. Not only that, but they all seemed to be in the same boat as Stan. All down on their luck; a little scruffy, disheveled, and tired.

All around the warehouse were boxes of equipment: cameras, mics, lights, rolls of film and plenty of other things Stan didn’t recognize. Closer to him was the temporary set, obviously built in a rush. The paint still had that wet sheen and there were rough splintered corners on the shoddily cut wood. Whatever these producers were planning, it was cheap, rushed and likely barely expanded on besides a prayer and getting people to come to it. Speaking of.

There were three people sitting off to the side at one of those white plastic folding tables, slightly better dressed than the other people in the room. When Stan had come in, they had asked him to sign a paper on an old clipboard then go stand by the sets. Currently they were whispering at each other, some harsh, some exasperated, all of it unintelligible. Occasional glances over the shoulder marked parts of the discussion. One of them had glasses, he noted.

Stan sighed; he was bored. He thought it was going to be like the movies, where they just had each person come up and read off of a script in some goofy voice, with a lot less standing around. His mistake. Although, he was also pretty sure that this wasn’t how it was done either. But again, what did he know?

A clap sounded from the white table, reverberating in the hollow walls of the warehouse, making Stan and the others flinch. They all turned towards the group of producers, who all stood in an unorganized semi-circle. The tallest one, a darker man with well-trimmed hair, addressed the group.

“Hello, and thank you all for coming in today!” he greeted, stepping forward. “I am Lloid Henson, the director for Poppy Avenue. The fine gentleman here-” He gestured to his left, where a freckled man in a familiar looking button up, sweater vest and glasses combo stood, Stan did his best not to flinch. “-Is Jim Cooney, he made both our sets and the puppets for today. And this lovely lady-” He then gestured to his right, to a small, chubbier girl, dressed in a cute combination of a long-sleeved shirt and overalls. “-Is Joan Morrisett. Our writer.” Both of Lloid’s colleagues waved and gave small greetings.

Stan honestly couldn't tell if the three had been friends already or if they all had just come together to make this puppet show, but either way, none of them looked like they knew what they were doing. Then again, it’s not like Stan knew how these things worked either. Neither did anyone else, if their pinched glances to one another said anything. He nearly snorted at the idea. No one here knew what they were doing. Except, maybe, Lloyd. At least, in the sense of working on a film set.

Not that any of it would matter to Stan anyway. He really didn’t think they were going to go for him. He didn’t have the voice built for a kids show no matter how he pushed it. That is, unless he played a villain, but he seriously doubted that this was the kind of show to have villains.

He and the others watched as the three producers walked to one of the box stacks, grabbed one of the bigger ones, and brought it to the make-shift stage. Then dump the contents onto the hopefully non-staining plywood.

Frankly, Stan didn’t know what he expected. Most of the puppets and props looked to be hastily thrown together, even though they did seem to hold some level of quality. They appeared to be early mockups of scattered ideas, shoved together in the hope that one would inspire the notion of an idea. They looked… very homemade. That was him being kind about it.

None of them looked bad, but it was obvious that they were all mishmashed together. All the same, it didn’t stop any of them from approaching the pile of fabric and plastic. Almost immediately, Stan found his attention being drawn to a rather ugly green sock. The green was an offshoot that lied closer to yellow, the sock itself had been altered to have two stuffed arms that ended in nubs that in extension had a nub to act as a “thumb”. The puppet’s face had a large orangish nose, and large simple felt eyes that sat just above it, a pair of wire-framed glasses were taped to its face, giving it a nerdy appearance. The simple vest and bowtie didn’t help matters.

Stan knew that the puppet had to be based on Jim, but still, he couldn’t help but see-.

No. No he will not think about Him. It's not worth the heartache. He knows better than to start longing now. They won’t want to see him until he has millions, He needs him to make up for his mistakes, he needs to remember that. This is his attempt to finally make something more of himself other than a homeless vagrant. More than a criminal. More than the dumb twin. More than the spare.

While Stan buried himself deep into thought, the producers finally began their explanation of what it is he and the others were there for. They were to pick a puppet, along with any props, and a pre-written script, then act out a scene with the puppet. Once again Stan could feel his nerves fray as everyone began grabbing up the cloth patchworks on the set. Quickly, he snatched up the ugly green sock and meandered towards a separate white fold-out table where piles of paper sat.

Each script had a defining title: The Kid, The Parents, The Neighbor and so-on. However, Stan was scanning over the names with a simple idea in mind. He knew what he was searching for. Soon, he found his prize: The Scientist. This was likely his only chance at avoiding resorting to asking for questionable loans that he could never pay off, he needed to make it count.

The others had done almost the same as him, sans the immediate actions he took, they actually sat there and thought about their decisions. Each one glancing over their options. Stan hadn’t really taken the time to take the others in, outside of surface-level group observations. They were all vastly different looking, he noted. People from all demographics: man, woman, some where he couldn’t tell, child, adult, tall, short, fat, skinny, and some were of different backgrounds that he hadn’t seen often in Jersey. One, he noted, even appeared to have a cane, perhaps a lame leg? Another seemed to be missing some fingers. Many of them were like him. Someone who was desperate and needed this one chance.

He meandered back to the homemade pile to look at the left-over props as a majority of the others went to the script table. As he looked over the leftovers, one of the teens, a girl with wild, short, curly hair spoke up.

“Why did you decide to try this out?” It was innocent in delivery, and Stan could hear a subtle South American accent, Brazil, maybe? She had a sweet face, still a bit rounded with baby fat. She held a small felt puppet, with red yarn hair and a cute green dress. The Girl’s dark brown eyes look up at him with a shy curiosity.

“Need work” Stan replied simply. Before he could stop himself, he then continued. “You?” He wanted to hit himself; he shouldn’t be making small talk with these people. He probably wouldn’t get past his first line before they decide to have him leave.

“Mama saw the flyers, and suggested I try it out. Said it was because I had a good attitude for it.” She responded. Doing it ‘cause of her ma? Respectable, Stan supposed. “I’m a little nervous though, I haven’t really acted in front of adults before.” Her face began to turn red in embarrassment.

“Bah! The most these guys will say is ‘thank you’ then move on, I wouldn’t set your eyes fully on this. There are always other options.” He had to learn that the hard way. He wouldn’t let this little girl have that same crushing feeling. Although, his options had all run dry by now. At this point he noticed her looking at him intently.

Her eyes grazed over him for a few moments. Studying him. It made Stan want to curl up and disappear. Who did she think she was? Didn’t her ma teach her it’s rude to stare? Rather than voicing this, he merely just huffed and quickly grabbed some fake plastiglas cups and some sticks, then briskly walked away.

What was he doing? He probably just screwed himself over with that! First of all, he was a full-grown man talking to a kid. Then snuffing her instead of ending things politely. Good going, moron…

This all was a bad idea. He never should have come at all. But he had already gotten this far, he needs to finish what he’s started. Stan sat down on one of the many boxes scattered throughout the warehouse and began reading his script. Only to pause mid-reading.

Sure, the letters were kinda scrambled and flipped, and the words were moving on the page, but-. How old was this show’s demographic again? Second graders? Stan may have been dumb, but he remembered a better way to learn about basic physics as a kid. Sure, He had been the one to teach him that way, but still, he understood that better at that age than he did this.

Maybe he could change it just a little bit? Simplify? Although, the producers likely wouldn’t like it if he changed their scripts. However, Stan knew what it was like to be the kid who was called stupid because he didn’t understand the topic that was being taught.

…Who wrote these again? The short girl. Joan Morrisett?

Looking around, he quickly spotted the women responsible for the scripts watching the others search for the script they wanted to try out with. Anxiously, he walked to the writer. As he got closer, he found a stiff weight firmly planting itself inside of his gut and heat rising up his face. He shouldn’t do this, it’s rude, but it’s not like Stan Pines ever gave much mind to being rude before.

Before he could stop himself, he came to a stop beside the young woman and cleared his throat.

“Uhm… hay uh…” Stan mumbled, only to pause as the shorter girl jumped in surprise.

“Oh!” Joan startled, snapping around to look at him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you!” She gave him a pleasant smile. “Did you need something?”

“Uh… kinda?” Stan shrugged. “Just a question, or a suggestion, I guess, from someone considered an idiot, y’know? Someone who was a kid who struggled in school?” His face was getting warmer by the second, his eyes looking everywhere besides in front of him.

“Alright,” She answered kindly. “Go right ahead.”

Stan, once again, cleared his throat. Rolling his shoulders to relieve the tension. “The science script. I have the whole Idea down… but looking at it… it reminds me of how I struggled in school, and how nothing the teachers taught me stuck. It was through a-” Damnit, he shouldn’t mention Him. Quick. Lie. “-close friend that I ever really learned anything. He helped me where teachers couldn’t, I was just wondering if I could… uh.” He stuttered. “Minorly alter the wording of the script, just a little!” he emphasized, panicked. He never should have asked-!

“Oh, alright! Although could you point out the section to me, so I get an idea of what you’re describing?” She slightly peaked over to look at the script Stan held. Nervously, he tilted it in her direction and pointed to a segment of text.

“Ah, yeah.” she mumbled, hand lifting to rest on her cheek as she huffed in frustration. “I wasn’t the best at science in school… I don’t really remember much from it either, I was more of an English and performing arts kid, y’know?” She shrugged.

Stan vaguely nodded in general dismissive interest.

“Well, how would you put it then?” She looked to him with a soft, encouraging smile, like the tutors that he would be assigned when he was very young and teachers still had hope for him. It managed to crack something deep inside him. With a preparing breath, he began to explain in the way that He did back then.

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

The current position Stan was sitting at was uncomfortable at best. He was planted beneath a table with its sides and front covered by a tablecloth, the back open to allow someone to sit slightly under. Stan was taller than the table, even when sitting, so he had to slouch uncomfortably to stay hidden from the producers sitting in front of the stage. The others were off behind the stage, waiting their turns or had already done their auditions. He had been placed firmly in the middle of the lineup, as he and Joan had taken time to alter his script before he read through it.

Around him were many tools of production for a show: lights, those inverted umbrellas that reflected the lights, a boom mic, and one of those expensive colored cameras. He had been asked to give his name, which he gave a fake; Pan Stein, what script he would be performing, and what his puppet's name was. Truely, there was no other option, he wore his inspiration on his sleeve. Dr.Pine, he told them, his puppet’s name would be Dr.Pine. With that done, they directed him to sit behind the table and now he waited for the snapping sound of the clapperboard.

When it finally snapped, Stan swallowed the spit overflowing in his mouth. He staged his puppet climbing an invisible set of stairs under the table, then feigned clearing the puppet’s throat, lifting its fake hands to its mouth. Then, with mild exaggeration to his normal tone, he addressed his audience.

(I can’t write scripts, and I have at least two other parts I want to write for this au, so please be nice and just imagine Stan does a good job and explains things well, I’m not used to writing fanfics yet-)

As Stan stood from behind the table, he briefly glanced at the producers. With a quick giving of thanks, he rushed from the stage and around to the back of the set. Sitting in a cheap folding chair, hunched with his face almost to his knees and cupped in his hands, he let out a deep sigh. His thumbs rubbed his temples, and his palms dug into his eyes as he let himself de-stress from the work of acting. He was usually so good at this, why was he so stressed now? Acting was basically what being a door-to-door salesman was all about, pretending something was amazing so shmuks would buy it.

But now, it felt impossible…

He never should have tried. He should have just cut his losses and took on some loans. Sure, some of the deals were shady, but it couldn’t have been as bad as this. He wasted his time, and these people’s time. All for what? Unbelievable.

His foot came in contact with a plush lump on the floor. The puppet, Dr.Pine. A name both familiar and not in its minor differences. A name for something that was, in all ways that mattered, nothing. A close enough name to someone who couldn't call himself anything close to who he used to be. Man, how deep is he spiraling that he's becoming introspective? Not really his whole thing, dumb twin and all.

Footsteps echoed as Stan registered the newly formed crowd around the back of the set. He must have been in his head for a while; although, it hadn’t felt that long at all. For a moment, he thought he locked eyes with Joan. But, with a blink, the contact disappeared. Must have been mistaken. However, she did tap on Lloyd's shoulder, then whispered to him while vaguely gesturing to Stan. He wanted the floor to devour him.

Lloyd would also momentarily glance at Stan, but his focus was mostly on Joan. This had gone on for maybe a minute, before the taller man approached Stan. He could feel his heart begin to race. Then stop as the main producer did too.

“If you don’t mind me asking, Sir.” He awkwardly began. “My colleague told me about the changes you suggested for the script, and it was based on your struggles in school and with learning.”

Great, now he’s losing an opportunity because he was a dumbass, good going-.

“And I think we might have the perfect position for you if you really are serious about this show. There is some work that could be done for your acting; but it’s only fair since you didn’t have much time.” Lloyd finished, face holding a professional smile.

What? No, really. What? They were offering him the job? Because he wanted to simplify some words? But then again, there is no way he was the only one like this, surely. They wanted him for that? It was that easy?

“Are you sure?” Stan tested, nervous.

“Positive.” Lloyd assured. “That is the whole reason for this show, to help kids who struggle. If you’re up for it. We have a contract you can look over, no strings.”

This was it, Stan processed. This was his chance to get out of this pit he dug. His chance to make something of himself. He somewhat shuffled as Lloyd guided him to a small, makeshift office and handed him a small stack of papers to read over. As his eyes scanned over the somewhat swimming text, he finally made his decision. And grabbed a pen, fake name at his fingertips, soon to be his new life.

Huh, maybe… he could do this.

#gravity falls #stanley pines #science time with dr pine #gravity falls au #au #fanfiction #fanfic #graphic design

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