#compassionate technology

[compassionmattersmost]

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[definitelynotaweirdo]

[theoraclephobetor]

I work in software support at a university, and I promise that this is as systemic a problem as it gets. It doesn't matter where an undergrad is from, ALMOST ALL that I have spoken with have had an incredibly hard time even IMAGINING that basic computer software has capabilities beyond a phone app.

When my office decided to create a free-for-all tech course, we heard a lot of administrators talk about using it to engage retirees and mature students. But most of the support cases that we used to justify the creation of this course were about students 22 AND UNDER.

A 4th year bio major didn't know that she could organize her computer files! An 18 year old 1st year didn't know that he could type a website url into an address bar instead of googling! A GRAD STUDENT didn't know that Word worked differently on computers because she'd only been using it on her phone!!

I taught a kid to right-click today. He was a lifelong Mac & touch-tablet user. He'd been given a cheap chromebook for school, and everyone in his life assumed he'd be fine learning a totally different OS during his first semester at uni. He came to me nearly in tears because he thought he was "too stupid to survive university", and only started to calm down when I started googling how the fuck Mac keyboard commands worked. I don't know if it was seeing me (a "tech person") desperately searching for a Mac/Windows Rosetta stone, or the validation of me calling the Mac/Windows translation process "a pain in the fucking ass", or just that someone was taking him seriously when he said something was hard. Somewhere in there, HE found a youtube channel dedicated to Mac people switching to Windows OS. And suddenly his world had a bit of hope.

But it took this kid a near-breakdown and a last-ditch attempt to ask for help before someone listened. He was about to drop out, or fail multiple courses. He still might for all I know.

And it pisses me off that he thought that the systemic failure of our education systems was an indicator of his own intelligence. Technology is hard, and he deserved to be taught how to use it.

I still remember being in grade 6 and finding out that it was the last year the school district was offering the computer typing course. We - children no older than 13 - knew that it was a bad idea. We told our teachers to fight for the class. But it was cut anyway, and now I help adults a decade younger than me to figure out how to right-click.

I can't help but see the connection.

seriously, though. i work in higher education, and part of my job is students sending me transcripts. you'd think the ones who have the least idea how to actually do that would be the older ones, and while sure, they definitely struggle with it, i see it most with the younger students. the teens to early 20s crowd.

very, astonishingly often, they don't know how to work with .pdf documents. i get garbage phone screenshots, sometimes inserted into an excel or word file for who knows what reason, but most often it's just a raw .jpg or other image file.

they definitely either don't know how to use a scanner, don't have access to one, or don't even know where they might go for that (staples and other office supply stores sometimes still have these services, but public libraries always have your back, kids.) so when they have a paper transcript and need to send me a copy electronically, it's just terrible photos at bad angles full of thumbs and text-obscuring shadows.

mind bogglingly frequently, i get cell phone photos of computer screens. they don't know how to take a screenshot on a computer. they don't know the function of the Print Screen button on the keyboard. they don't know how to right click a web page, hit "print", and choose "save as PDF" to produce a full and unbroken capture of the entirety of a webpage.

sometimes they'll just copy the text of a transcript and paste it right into the message of an email. that's if they figure out the difference between the body text portion of the email and the subject line, because quite frankly they often don't.

these are people who in most cases have done at least some college work already, but they have absolutely no clue how to utilize the attachment function in an email, and for some reason they don't consider they could google very quickly for instructions or even videos.

i am not taking a shit on gen z/gen alpha here, i'm really not.

what i am is aghast that they've been so massively failed on so many levels. the education system assumed they were "native" to technology and needed to be taught nothing. their parents assumed the same, or assumed the schools would teach them, or don't know how themselves and are too intimidated to figure it out and teach their kids these skills at home.

they spend hours a day on instagram and tiktok and youtube and etc, so they surely know (this is ridiculous to assume!!!) how to draft a formal email and format the text and what part goes where and what all those damn little symbols means, right? SURELY they're already familiar with every file type under the sun and know how to make use of whatever's salient in a pinch, right???

THEY MUST CERTAINLY know, innately, as one knows how to inhale, how to type in business formatting and formal communication style, how to present themselves in a way that gets them taken seriously by formal institutions, how to appear and be competent in basic/standard digital skills. SURELY. Of course. RIGHT!!!!

it's MADDENING, it's insane, and it's frustrating from the receiving end, but even more frustrating knowing they're stumbling blind out there in the digital spaces of grown-up matters, being dismissed, being considered less intelligent, being talked down to, because every adult and system responsible for them just

ASSUMED they should "just know" or "just figure out" these important things no one ever bothered to teach them, or half the time even introduce the concepts of before asking them to do it, on the spot, with high educational or professional stakes.

kids shouldn't have to supplement their own education like this and get sneered and scoffed at if they don't.

[knightclinic01]

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[lowenhillhomecareservices]

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[beachmere303]

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[astrodescent]

MIDHEAVEN THROUGH THE SIGNS AND WHAT YOUR BEST IMAGE IS (YOUR PROFESSIONAL SIDE)

aries mc:

- projects a confident, dynamic, and assertive image to the world.

- thrives in leadership roles and is driven to achieve ambitious goals.

- might be seen as energetic, pioneering, and unafraid to take risks in their career.

taurus mc:

- presents an image of stability, beauty, reliability, and practicality.

- thrives in careers related to finance, aesthetics, or the arts.

- values a steady and secure approach to achieving personal and professional goals.

gemini mc:

- projects an adaptable, communicative, and versatile image.

- excels in roles that involve communication, networking, or information-sharing.

- expresses a quick wit, curiosity, and a diverse range of interests in their public persona.

cancer mc:

- presents a nurturing, empathetic, and protective image.

- thrives in roles that involve caregiving, counseling, or community service.

- values emotional connections and often projects a sense of warmth and compassion.

leo mc:

- radiates confidence, charisma, and a regal presence.

- flourishes in roles that allow for creativity, leadership, and self-expression.

- often seen as theatrical, generous, and unapologetically individualistic.

virgo mc:

- projects an image of precision, attention to detail, and analytical prowess.

- thrives in roles that require problem-solving, organization, and efficiency.

- values competence, reliability, and a meticulous approach to their work.

libra mc:

- presents a harmonious, diplomatic, and aesthetically pleasing image.

- excels in roles involving relationships, art, or social justice.

- often seen as charming, cooperative, and with a keen sense of fairness.

scorpio mc:

- radiates intensity, mystery, and a transformative presence.

- thrives in roles that involve depth, research, or psychology.

- values authenticity, resilience, and often projects a magnetic allure.

sagittarius mc:

- projects an adventurous, optimistic, and expansive image.

- excels in roles that involve travel, education, or philosophy.

- values freedom, intellectual curiosity, and often seen as a bold, honest risk-taker.

capricorn mc:

- presents an image of ambition, authority, and disciplined professionalism.

- thrives in roles that require leadership, strategic planning, or entrepreneurship.

- values structure, achievement, and often projects a mature and responsible demeanor.

aquarius mc:

- radiates uniqueness, innovation, and a progressive presence.

- excels in roles that involve technology, social causes, or group dynamics.

- values individuality, open-mindedness, and often seen as forward-thinking.

pisces mc:

- thrives in roles that involve creativity, healing, or humanitarian efforts.

- projects a compassionate, imaginative, and spiritually aware image.

- values intuition, empathy, and often projects a dreamy and ethereal aura.

© spirit-of-phantom 2024

[tarjapearce]

Heathens (Pt. 1)

Priest! Miguel O'Hara x Nun!Reader

art by @maxro_art on IG (Her Deliverance AU is ❤️❤️🤌🏻)

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. If you're sensitive regarding religion, please don't read this. Masturbation in holy places, explicit language, wet dreams, Female anatomy, oral ( F receiving) Gentle Dom Miguel, Corruption kink, overused tropes cause yeah, a tinge of yandere undertones if you squint, mutual lust, Not Proofread ~

Summary: Father O'Hara had a little lamb ~

A/N: Another for the Miguelverse ~ Reblogs and comments are much appreciated c:

Main Masterlist

From all the places you could've find solace from war, The house of God was the least of lieus in your list. Not that you had a choice.

Family long gone after unsuspected explosions decimated your town, followed by constant tragedies such as losing friends along the way either by enemy and merciless hands or sickness. In the end, it was only you. You had outlived them all despite your short age. And now, they lived crammed up in your memories.

Happy, smiling and very much alive. Sometimes you'd see familiar faces on stranger's bodies. Grief had slowly nested within your soul and when all hope seemed lost, the chapel had saved you from what surely would end up in your premature death.

The blackest of black matched the crispest white you had ever seen, they were all donned in their beatific robes, prayer beads dangling at every gentle step they did. And there it was, epiphany unfolding itself before your experienced in horror eyes. It was your call.

All the answers to your laments and aching heart were sent as them. Nuns of the Mistbourne Parish. A church located in the outskirts of a now rundown by conflict Nueva York. The church that now played a major role in taking in as much people within their sacred walls, before they could be dispatched to a more adequate place.

Without hesitation, you had joined. And now, six years later you still remained with them. Early twenties had settled right for you as a nun. Ever devoted, compassionate, and diligent.

As time went on, the main city was reconstructed, burying it's dark tragedy under freshly built towers, hiding the pain under the rugged carpet full of concrete and wire homes, like nothing ever happened. Like if war had never stepped upon it and gave it a much needed renewal at people's lives expenses.

But no matter how many changes time brought, life in Mistbourne's Parish remained the same. Untouched by the technological advances from the outer world. There was always something to do, as simple as it was. And so far, you've been satisfied with it.

The only alterations worth of mention was your holy family expanding.

A new couple additions to the staff. More sisters, an eighty percent of them were beyond fifty. You were the youngest, their child. After all some ended up raising you within the house.

And him. The new priest.

The tallest and bulkiest man you've ever seen. As much as staring was considered rude and borderline a sin, it was unavoidable to do so, when his rusty brown eyes fell upon you. Their color unique, like he was. Never in your life had you seen someone like him, or another man besides the butcher and the guard. He had definitely been a regular man before coming here.

The soft weary expression lines in his sharp countenance revealed his own fair of lived experiences.

He towered over you, crisp white dot on his black rimmed neck line, parading his status with modest pride, and golden praying beads dangling on his narrow hips, you held yours while asking forgiveness for keep staring.

"Father."

Father O'Hara. In his mid thirties, broken family also torn by war, wearing his vows in the shape of a ring on his right hand.

"Sister"

His voice deep yet gentle, like a lullaby. His steps took him away to his own residence. The rectory outside the church.

It made sense as to how some workers were renovating it in the past few weeks. The parish last priest had been sent off in sacred duties, only to realize later that he had killed a man. Cops and detectives surely made a show out of it.

Dark times, according to Sister Lianne, one of your mother figures. But now, Father O'Hara had taken his place, erasing all traces of the previous man with concise and pithy actions.

He took his role seriously. Said masses on sundays, visited the sick, baptized people; but his most popular feat was to hear the confessions. The most intimate secrets revealed to him by either your fellow sisters or people from the town that came to expiate their sins in hope to be forgiven.

You'd sometimes run into each other, bumping casually in the narrow wooden floored halls, you'd often apologize, only to reciprocate a polite smile on both ends. He'd sometimes help you out by carrying things a bit too heavy, or you'd help him out lighting up the altar for his speech.

Yet, his hands in one occasion took an accidental taste of your body dimensions underneath your beatific robes, while preventing you from falling down the stairs. He'd scold you for being careless and carrying things that obscured your sight.

After many sorries on your behalf, you returned to the cells and went straight to your own dorm, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

His hands felt burning upon remembering the dents of your form, the curve of your waist and certainly the warmth that irradiated from you, so so close from his.

Unexpectedly it had brought memories from his past. His old life where he'd have his lovely and temporary companion for the night impaled deliciously with himself before war and hell broke loose. Before he was forced by the subversives that raided his town to create a new fake identity in the spot as they heard him speak spanish or fight a war he hadn't started, much less would end. And so, his life as Father O'Hara begun.

Odd enough, the sudden and thoughtless choice had granted him peace after witnessing so many terrors his fellow human could be capable of. His need of help has always been stronger than anything and when he finished licencing some sacrifices were required.

Poverty vows weren't an issue since his previous life had been modest yet good enough to go by. Little difference between his current lifestyle.

The obedience vow took him a little longer to fully yield. But he accomplished it to a T, just to avoid more trouble. He faked it until he made it.

His chastity vow had been a quite the challenge to perfect, but no matter how much the temptations paraded before him in the many parishes he was assigned to, he didn't give in. His libido had been sapped out of his body, like a campfire after completing it's useful cycle.

Not because of his brand new sanctity invested by holier-than-thou elders, but rather a broken mind full of grievance and other negatives that always haunted him. The gunshots and bombings too fresh in his mind.

It had been years since he touched someone in a way that wasn't holy. Since he had provoked things in someone else that clearly would make him go under the laicization from the clergy without second guessings.

Until he held you the other day.

Both of your eyes too enraptured in eachother that had sent an igniting spark to his spine. Reviving all those inactive nerves he thought his existencial toll severed long ago. His eyes had gave a brief rake over your face.

Wide and round eyes staring back, both in awe and surprise straight into his soul. Nose flaring softly just like your mouth, whose bottom lip trembled at the little erratic breaths your lungs exhaled upon being in physical contact with a man for the first time in ever, while cheeks bloomed with a not so discreet flush. And your body heat.

Jesus all mighty.

It was dangerously tempting. For a brief moment his past self had taken over, but quickly vanished upon hearing steps. Earning you to fix your crucifix and cowl nervously and him to fist his hands to refrain himself to take another taste and fix his collar and cassock.

To his conclusion, the robes you wore did not match what was underneath. He noted much, but having you wear that loose habit only fuelled his now active and sinful imagination. An opposite from your habits' purpose.

Priest life was hard, and the Celibacy vows were his biggest damnation. Mind often plagued with 'I shouldn't have done this.' 'This is ridiculous' 'Fucking idiot' 'Why did I even lie about this?' But even so, priesthood was better than ending up dead or mutilated by mines somewhere in the battlefield, in the middle of a war he didn't started, much less would end.

Government later was forcibly recruiting all those men, be them widowed or married. It didn't matter. War wasn't for him. Neither Priesthood.

But he'd bear it. He'd bear it until he was put in another parish church full of older and witty ladies he'd definitely wouldn't lust after.

----

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned."

The sweet voice behind the confessional punctured walls, perked up his ears. He had memorized a lot of things, your voice included.

"I... I haven't confessed in weeks. But it grows me concerned that... my mind is somewhere else."

Silence. You were met with silence as expected, it also encouraged you to keep talking.

"A man has flooded my thoughts and no matter how much I try to occupy myself, he's there. Leading me to temptation and sin."

A man?

His brow quirked as he slanted over the little wooden division between you, to hear better and take a peek on your face. The only men he could think of was the guard, the butcher and himself. The only men inhabiting the same area as you.

"How does this man tempts you?"

"He... He visits. In my dreams I mean and..."

A low 'forgive me, God' echoed in your stall. His throat dried and his hands rested on each side of his knees, gripping at the fabric of his pants.

"He does things I know I shouldn't partake in... But, it feels too real."

"You sound scared. Does it frightens you?"

"Very much so. But it is a strange sort of fear, Father."

"What kind of fear then?"

It took you a long pause to muster

"A fear of him stopping his visits in my mind."

He gulped.

Your hands took the crucifix and held it tighter, "For him to stop doing such sinful things to me, even in my dreams."

"Have you sinned in the carnal affairs?"

"N-No. I would never. I've never engaged in them, Father."

His groin twitched, as a hand raked over his scalp. A shaky breath that was forced to come out in silence. Only when he thought you couldn't be more innocent, there you were proving him wrong.

"Ever?"

"I promise to you with my life, I've never."

"I must know" He wetted his lips with his tongue, "What kind of things does this man does to you?"

"W-What?"

Your spine straightened up instantly, eyes wild, staring another hole into the already punctured division. Cinnamon color in his skin, the only brief glimpse you managed to see. But even so, his gentle yet cornering voice brought you down from your initial jump.

"I need to know, so I can dictate a penance."

The flush on your cheeks returned, burning bright upon remembering the all too lucid dream you've been having about your secret man. That, even though visited frequently, you still didn't know his face, just his body as it smothered yours wholy in a constant merciless and scorching rut.

All what you remembered was him feasting between your legs like a starved man. His hands maneuvering your soft mounds to then give a gentle squeeze.

"His hands are the ones that bring the sin, Father."

"Explain yourself"

His voice was sultry, buttery rich and smooth on the other side of the stall. A subtle order. To your dismay, that same demon had a similar voice tone. Alluring, speaking to you in a foreign language it had you mewling and asking for forgiveness every time you remembered, cause you had begged the faceless man for more.

"He touches and... t-tastes places I shouldn't allow no man to delve in." With a thick gulp you continued, "His tongue is... marvelous."

His eyes widened for a second as his hand hovered over his crotch

"Marvelous?"

"I feel the biggest sinner by admitting this. Please, do forgive me."

"Accountability is part of the process."

He tried to sound as professional as he could, but little did you know his mind was torturing his already crumbling resolve with such vivid details. Celibacy wasn't a problem, until now. Hearing such sinful words coming from such a unsuspecting thing like yourself, a virgin that is, made his old self to re-emerge.

Disguising himself as a sheep, while he fought through his holy learning years to tame his wolfish appetite.

There were plenty of ewes in the flock , but so far the only one that made his mouth water was you. A perfect little lamb. And now, this. We're you set to making him break his vows?

No. You weren't. He was reaching his limits to break celibacy and you were just having wet dreams about someone that definitely made him wonder about your past life. A past lover? No. Not even that. A possession? A demon? No. Definitely not.

He had heard things whenever on lunch duty. Mindless talk that revealed more to him from others and you than they intended to. You, a nun. Picked up from a ravaged village nearby and raised within  the nuns, meaning, you had zero idea of what pleasure meant.

He believed, but wasn't a complete blinded idiot to faith. Your body was asking for physical and forbidden relief. Just like his.

But again, the golden band around his right hand not only forbid but also was the perpetual reminder of what was a stake.

"I know, Father. But... this man has such power over me that has pushed me to sin. He... he has pushed me to take such vulgar matters in my own hands."

Maker's mercy

His cock twitched harder and he was unable hold back and gave a firm  squeeze while biting his lip to quiet himself at the long forgotten and heady pleasure that was drowning his body in an alarming rate.

As if done of being fed lies and a quick and sloppy handjob for ages. It was disgusting how easy was to sin, how well his body ached and reacted to such stimulus. How effortlessly his old habits had caught up to him.

He was the one that needed a penance now, cause he couldn't shake the image of you spread with your legs wide open, naked, sliding your fingers in between your weeping folds. You'd certainly have your mouth shut or lips bitten to avoid having anyone hear you.

He had closed his eyes while his jaw clenched, occasionally sweeping his tongue over his lips to keep them moist.

"Say it. Say your sin."

He commanded in a voice that had your cheeks flustered and your pearly nub a throb. His hand half squeezed half stroked over his clothed groin. Swollen and needy cock begging to be set free and properly taken care of.

"I..." A dry gulp and your hands went to your crotch, begging your nature to behave. Cheeks impossibly red.

"I've enjoyed touching myself after dreaming a man... f-fucks me, Father."

The word 'fuck' coming out your delicious looking yet pure lips, had his teeth gnawing at the insides of his cheek, self control harder to keep under the leash. It barked, howled even demanded for more explicit details.

Instead, he sighed quietly and cleared his throat. The sudden noise had you gripping the skirt of your habit in shame.

Miguel didn't say much besides the prayer of absolution and a couple of more prayers as your penance. The same right hand that was squeezing his cock was now being kissed by you, to confirm your forgiveness. Plump, warm and soft lips caressed his ring finger.

And once you were gone, his hand took control on its own, slid under his soutane to stroke himself. If you felt like a sinner, he was the devil himself.

The vice like grip in his own cock made him shudder, sensation foreign yet so welcoming after years without it. A little whine escaped past his gaping mouth, exhaling pecaminous breaths as he stroked like teenage boy that just discovered masturbation for the time ever. Sloppy, desperate and wet motions echoed in the now sullied stall.

He fisted his hand tighter, thick fingers coaxing a much needed release, hips rutting into his choking hand. Quiet whimpers and an array of curses flew out his mouth.

His flushed tip swayed and shook under his own rough ministrations while his jaw clenched, he clawed at the chair when hot and thick spurts of his cum dribbled down his hand and wrist before time; pooling in the hollow of his palm while earning a gutural growl that dissolved into a shaky whimper, as he curled against the wooden and punctured wall for a brief lapse of seconds to regain his composure.

"Fuck..." He had to lay against his chair to keep the light-headedness at bay, drowning in his own made pleasure, panting like he had run a marathon for hours.

He shouldn't have lied back ago. And  definitely shouldn't have become a priest. He was soiling their already tainted reputation. His old self was back to stay.

He cleaned up his hand under his robes to then leave to change. He was given a glimpse as you were picking up some harvest in the orchard while he was making his way back home.

---

Window's glasses echoed with the soft rain. The parish has been quiet during weekdays, but busy for you. As winter approaches the harvest must be picked, the grains sorted and the meats stored.

You saw Father O'Hara less and less, and when you did, they were mere glimpses. He was as busy in meetings with other priests, or preparing for the mass that was now given twice a week.

If you weren't in the garden or the laundry, you were in the choir.

Lingering yet brief gazes chased each other. He had heard some nuns speaking about him, some had wonderful things to say, saying that he had been one of the most efficient priests the church has had.

Others mentioned between hushed and bashful whispers about his physical condition and how they caught him go for runs at crack of dawn a couple of times.

And you, just wanted to go to confession again and ask for forgiveness. Not to spill the advantures you had in your dreams with a man that oddly resembled like Father O'Hara, but to unleash your heart's desires to wonder what was beyond the parish.

It was your life, all you've ever known so far. But one of those trips to the city during a beneful visit to another location, had left you amazed. How could a world so different like yours could be considered bad and straying?

But again, vows. Your vows bound you, and once broken, there was no turning back. But right now all that mattered was to get to the dorms. The rest was out in another visit to the city, you were to stay to finish your tasks in the kitchen.

Weather changed so abruptly that one moment you were taking the last basket of vegetables inside, to then run for the dorms to seek refuge. But they were far and the only thing in sight was Father's O'Hara rectory.

It was either getting a terrible fever from the cold and unforgiving rain or ask him to lend you an umbrella to mitigate the glacial numbness spreading through your body. Another reason you barely went out during these days, rains in the countryside were merciless.

Miguel was tending his own garden when the rain begun drenching. Even more when the thunders broke the peaceful white noise. He removed his soutane and shirt off leaving his inner vestments free, but the desperate knock on his door made his undressing ritual to stop.

While quirking an eyebrow, he approached the door and opened it. Eyes widened in surprise upon seeing you, soaked through your bones. lips blue and shivering from the cold.

"P-Please-"

"Jesus. Come in."

He ushered you in, then rushed to get a towel. A frown in his face deepened upon hearing your teeth clatter, clothes stuck to you like a second skin.

"C-Can I... borrow your... u-umbrella?"

Without much though he smoothened the towel against your face, drying it.

"An umbrella? Really?!"

A vehement shake of your head, while trying to get him off you.

"You're freezing cold, the dorms are too far for you to leave. Don't be stubborn."

"I... I don't h-have clothes."

You mumbled through rattling teeth while your eyes darted hazily over his naked torso. He sighed.

"Unbelievable. You're freezing to death and you're worried about clothes. Get them off, I'll put them to dry."

He grumbled while taking more logs into the fire to what would be his living room. If it wasn't for the glacial and biting freeze that refused to leave your body and the foggy thinking in your brain, your cheeks would be beyond red. Crimson even from such simple act.

A weak nod you gave. Your hands stopped bracing your shivering body to focus on removing the cowl and headdress. Releasing through shaky motions your soaked hair that wasted no time to stick on your face and neck.

The next was your crucifix, and praying beads, the tempo you removed them could make a slug to easily win the race, this alarmed him greatly. He had seen what hypothermia did, way before turning himself into this holy persona.

Without much thought, he peeled off your habit that weighed you down.

"Qué mierda más pesada" (Such a heavy shit)

He held you by one arm as he removed the outer layer off. Your eyes drooped and he gave you a little shake.

"Hey, hey, look at me."

Eyes concerned raking over and it dawned on you. Those eyes, the same beautiful and unique eyes were the same that visited in your dreams.

A difficult gulp rolled down your throat as Miguel kept undressing you while grunting. Wet clothes were a pain in his beatific ass. Shivering dicreased, but your lips remained blue, a new shade of purple drawing over them.

"I-It's so cold" You mumbled through laborious breaths.

"Course it's cold. You're soaked! What were you even doing?"

The way he scolded you felt like someone you've known for years was giving you a lecture. So casual, homey, normal. It was Miguel O'Hara speaking, not Father Miguel. The ever gentle and patient man you've been helping.

"Jesús bendito, con cuánta cosa te vistes." (Holy Jesus, so many layers.)

He murmured while pushing you to his chest as he removed the dress that covered your underwear. It felt like a heatless body had been thrown over him, but the warmth irradiating from him felt heavenly. Your form instinctively nuzzled your head on his chest. He had to stop to gulp at the sensations

Even though his mind slapped itself, His couldn't help but wander over your shivering and weak body.

"W-Wait"

A small dark patch hovered above the joint of your legs. Taut peaks followed by lovely areoles ever standing and shivering under the flimsy white fabric of a short nightgown that proved even harder to remove since it clung to you like a second skin, refusing to abandon your body.

He peeled you off of everything despite your protests, but was sufficiently prude to not look over your naked form. A minute too slow and it would be late. Like the young boy in his arms, that had died out of cold once the subversive groups arrived in the forsaken town, they had forced him and the rest to go through a frozen river. He made it, but the boy didn't.

His mind wasn't in the tip of his cock.

That will come later.

But his brain had only one single purpose right now. To keep you alive but for that he needed keep you warm.

Despite the recklessness of his actions, he pulled a freshly folded duvet around  while pulling you ontop of his chest and sat together near the fire. Hands moving to dry your hair as much as he could. Your skin was full of goosebumps, frosty to touch, that relished into any source of heat available. His torso, the duvet and the raging bonfire made your head spin.

It felt like his hands, rubbing some life back into your arms while he shielded your body, embracing your form with his torso and limbs. Like a paramedic on duty. Your cheek smooshed against his solid chest, it made him shudder with your own coldness but eventually the body heat treatment would be effective.

"Sorry" it was all you managed before your teeth shuddered again, and his fingers caressed your neck, placing a new wave of delicious heat on your skin.

"You'll be fine."

Your body was slowly but surely returning to it's temperature. Miguel remained there, basking you within his body, fingers gingerly caressing as much cold skin as he could under the duvet. Even his breath provided a little heat. Your erratic breaths collided against his skin, earning a discreet shudder from him.

You had drifted off to limbo, trying to sleep a bit, but unable to completely do so. Not when a man, the Parish Father nonetheless, was holding and nursing you back to an acceptable temperature with his own.

"Father O'Hara..."

Miguel's ears perked up upon you mentioning his name.

"It's Miguel."

He mumbled while drawing lazy circles on your lower back. The fire and the duvet had kept you toasty to curl even more towards him. Teeth no longer clattering.

"Thank you, Father."

"Stop."

His eyes rolled in annoyance, as his hands stopped caressing your skin to then rub his face.

"Stop calling me that."

"But that's your-"

"I don't like it."

He grumbled while looking down at you.

"Call me Miguel."

"I can't do that. Feels too disrespectful."

"I'm not Father O'Hara here, understood?"

You nodded

"Are you cold?"

"I am. Not as before but yes. Has it stopped raining?"

His own smell was making your mind a puddle, some of that fragrant incense remained etched on him.

"No. Just got worse."

You sighed while resting your head on his chest. Heartbeats a mellow lullaby.

"I'm sorry for all of this."

"You were cold and soaked." He pointed dully and bored.

The duvet was brought closer to your chest while staring at the flames. Fingers tracing a lazy and mindless pattern in his abdomen.

"I was picking up the last batch of harvest when rain poured on me."

Your toes curled in as a soft breeze flickered the fire and he tilted his head to watch you closer.

"Now I'll have to explain why there isn't enough corn."

"We'll go by. It's ok."

"Are my clothes ready yet?"

A snort that  would be translated into an 'Are you kidding me?', your brow furrowed.

"You'd be lucky if they get dry during the night."

Another defeated sigh. But a sudden thought however made your cheeks burn faintly.

"D-Did you see me naked?"

"No."

Oh.

There was a silent pause before you spoke again. Curiosity tempting.

"Have you seen other women naked?"

He huffed playfully while pushing your hair away from your lovely and sweet face.

"Yes. I was a regular man before all of this."

His fingers curled up in his hand, morphing into a lazy fist

"Do you miss it?"

"Would be a liar to say if I don't."

"You... You've had sex before?"

He chuckled while with an open palm, took a taste of your skin, deliberately roaming your lower back. You shuddered.

"I did. Plenty of times."

Your audible gasp made his eyes droop hazily in a smirking grimace.

"I was told it felt marvelous."

You looked up at him and he pulled your chin upwards, he really had to keep his restrain under a leash to not take you here and there, instead, he cupped your face and hovered his lips over yours

"Do you want me to teach you, Sister?"

He was the demon. The very same one that visited in your dreams and left you a soaked mess. A little too late you'd noticed that he wasn't wearing his vow ring. It was placed somewhere else you truly couldn't care less at the moment.

You only nodded.

"Use your words, dear"

"Please", you gulped, "Teach me."

It was in that moment that he sealed your lips with his. Your first kiss ever. Chaste and sweet at the beginning that slowly turned into this obscene display of his mouth assaulting yours with his tongue in between gentle licks and bites of his lips.

A shaky whine then a whimper escaped your throat upon feeling his hands skimming down your spine. He only let you go when you tapped out for air.

"How often am I on your mind, pequeña?"

Finally the demon in your dreams had turned into a reality. Eyes were closed, unable to look at yourself melting under his touch. Nipples perked against his chest.

Plump and hot lips caressed yours but they stopped. Hands pulled you upwards, Miguel turned you around so your back was now colliding with his chest.

"You're still cold."

Cheeks grew impossibly red while he slowly peeled off the duvet out of your body, leaving you bare before him. You gulped as he moved your hair to a side and slowly kissed up and down your neck.

His hands were unable to resist any more and cupped your mounds, like in your dream. Calloused palms, rough against soft breast.

"Qué maravilla. Is this how your dream goes?

Legs smothered together, a little strip of hair etched to your pubic mount. He hummed in appreciation to then part your legs above his. Cunt pulsing at the coolness of air brushing past it.

Both of your legs dangled ontop of his as you remained nested above. Your heart beat at the playful moves his middle and index finger pulled on your nipple as his free hand darted over the joint of your inner thighs. You could feel him trembling underneath, the restrain made his breath hitch.

Your own turned erratic once more as he slid three fingers in between your folds. A shy Ah escaped your lips while he used two of them to part the outer labia

"Look at that, little one. Is that what you touch when thinking of me?"

Drunk eyes darted between your legs and his skillful hand, the engorged and pearly clit peeked out as one of his fingers flickered slowly. Focusing the right amount of pressure in it that had your moans shaky. He paused to adjust his fingers as they caressed and rubbed as much flesh as they could.

Mouth etched to your ear. Deep and needy breaths fanned behind you

"So so pretty. Look at that"

He made a show of his fingers coating themselves in your slick. One of his digits hovered over your entrance, slowly it disappeared inside. A muffled groan echoed in the void space

A wet and shlicking sound came from his ministrations, head unable to move, too enraptured into watching him sliding in and out. Skin bloomed with a new wave of goosebumps as his tongue licked your neck and earlobe, rewarding you for taking one finger deliciously, that he licked up clean before going back to rub at your clit.

"Want to add another?"

A breathless and hissing yes.

You didn't know who was with you right now since Father O'Hara couldn't. Your brain still refused to believe they were the same man. One preached and talked mass every Sunday, the other had your head spinning while his fingers explored your insides with such gentleness it only increased your whimpers and need for something more and bigger within you.

"Does that feel good, Hm?"

A dumb nod while more escaped your mouth repeatedly

"More?"

"Please!"

How could he deny to such petition? Even most when you were gripping him so deliciously and pulsating with every stroke he delivered in, grazing at your sweetest spot.

"Like this?"

He increased the tempo and your breath hitched, hips moving to meet his fingers aiding them to reach deeper and deeper.

Breaths turned into short and shallow pants, blood rushed to your cheeks. One of his digits pushed past between your lips meeting your moist muscle that wasted no time into kissing it. All you could hear was yourself and your weeping pussy that demanded for more.

But they weren't enough. Brain was sent into an override when the climax washed over you. All the pent up need and lust drowned you. Strong pulsations dictated the contractions that trapped and milked Miguel's fingers. Mind split in two in a shattering and core shaking spasm.

Mouth gaped, eyes heady and drunk with blind hot pleasure, body convulsed while an array of mumbles and clumsy curses flew out of your mouth to finally end with a delicious quivering cry.

"It's okay, shh, it's okay, pequeña." He cooed you through it while kissing your neck. Heart pounding in your ears.

It took you a moment to breath properly. How could you have missed this? How could you remain so ignorant to this? Alienated from something you were often told it was dirty and condemning.

He had only touched in the right places and you were melting. But why stopping there? You knew he also wanted you, his hard on pressing over your lower back, begging to set free.

"M-More"

He shook his head with a proud smile

"Can't do that, preciosa"

A capricious whine came through your throat, "Why not?"

"Cause, as much as I'd love to take you until you recite the bible backwards to me, you know what could happen."

"You don't want me, then? Why stopping now?"

"Far from that. And we must be discreet. Wouldn't want you to be whipped by Sister Lianne."

He took your hand and kissed your wrist. While his other limb pulled you closer to him.

"I am the only one that shall leave marks on you, my dear. Is that clear?"

"Yes, but-" He took your chin in a gentle but firm grip.

"Is that clear?"

You nodded with a pout.

"Lay on the bed."

"What? "

"Lay on the bed, so I can taste you."

Miguel could fulfil that fantasy. With Bambi-like steps you pushed yourself up and walked over his bed. Plush surface welcomed your body under a creak.

"Spread them."

Toes curled up for a second before spreading them open. Clit already tingling with a foreign yet needy sensation.

He kneeled before you, like he did every day he worshipped the Lord. But this time it wasn't God, but you. Nose nuzzled over your inner thighs while taking a whiff of your scent. Tantalizing and so alluring for his own senses.

Slow and deliberate kisses were placed above your flesh, the strip of hair that decored your pussy, to finally sink in between soaked folds.

The mewl you gave only made him feast upon you. Hands grope the sheets by instinct as he spreaded you further.

His tongue lapped and curled at your hole, slurping it without refrain and inhibitions. Devouring it like it would be his last meal.

Your dream had felt too vivid, yes, but this was completely different. This was in a whole new different level. His corruption had tainted your soul and it was gladly welcomed into your arms.

Legs twitched and shook while your head was thrown back, chest heaved with shallow breaths, unable to breath properly as his tongue was set into fucking your drooling hole.

The way his tongue fucked, dribbled and guzzled your cunt had you mewling and moaning the filthiest things you didn't think possible you could get out.

Good was an understatement, heavenly was a measly word to compare what you felt like. It was maddening and he gave you no rest.

Have you ascended? No. He just wrapped your supple thighs around his head, preventing you from squirming too much, holding your hips in place as his sloshing and assailant mouth gave you no rest.

You hadn't recovered completely from the other orgasm when a new one had approached. Lurking around your senses.

His name was moaned, over and over and when your hands were done of clinging onto the sheets, you held onto his hair. Silky and smooth chocolate locks slid under your fingers.

Eyes peeked over you, and he had to pause for a moment to squeeze his cock. Aching and weeping for him to let him free and make you his. But that would come later.

That would come much later when he had more leisure time and when he'd get protection. As much as he wanted to wreck your snug cunt, he didn't want you to be whipped and shamed like another nun was when the higher ups found out she was pregnant by an outsider.

"Miguel"

His name on your lips rich and tasty, like him.

Your voice snapped him out of his trance to immediately go for your clit. Plump lips pursed and captured the engorged nub. While his hands pushed your legs up and folded them, giving a complete access to your pulsating pussy.

He slurped and souped while his tongue teased. Wet laps sent jolts through your spine each time he tasted you.

Too much. Too good and too soon, yet he didn't stop. He shook his head like a mad dog subduing it's prey and that move alone had you gushing over his mouth. He quickly gobbled it all down.

You whined, cried and blabbled, even tried to pull his head away but he delivered you a last stroke with his tongue to then lick his lips clean.

"Please"

You mumbled through blown breaths as he watched you with a lust blown glare.

What had he done out of you?

"Greed is a sin, my dear."

What had he created?

"But if you're good enough, the wait will be worth it."

His little lamb was so willing for him, aching to be tainted, corrupted even more. And his task was to banish such whims.

He'd given you a taste of what laid ahead. A promise of a much unholy reward if you followed this path with him. But your resolve had been made the first time you came.

He'd be your first and last. There wasn't any need for another to teach you what he was compliant to demonstrate.

You'd be his to fuck. His to tame and corrupt.

You'd be his.

---

Taglist:

@plumplumpurin

[loveemagicpeace]

🦋Things about planets / signs🦋

🩷Saturn in Aries - aries should fall in this position and this position is also treated as bad, not so effective. But saturn is the planet (of order, responsibility, authority, discipline, finishing things you do, career and reputation, time...) Aries is energetic, combative, brave, persistent and driven, when you decide to do something, do it. Saturn and Aries both represent independence, doing things on your own or getting things done on your own. Aries is a competitive sign and will not give up until he has done what he set out to do - Saturn is the planet that pushes you to achieve your desired goal. I personally think that this position brings more benefits than disadvantages and that you can get a lot out of this placement. The only bad thing here is that things can go to extremes.

🛍️Sun in Libra-the sun is supposed to fall in the sign of technicality. The sun represents (light, inspiration, playfulness, identity, strength, glory, visibility). Technique represents (beauty, connections, sociality, comprehensibility, harmony). The sun represents male energy and technology should also represent male energy. Together, they both love attention and socializing. The only difference is that the sun represents ego and sometimes selfishness, while the technique represents a more gentle and compassionate energy. Techies in the sun love to be seen and love to show off their style, dress up and do things for themselves and their fun. The only thing that can be challenged here is to focus more on your own needs and not so much on the needs of others. You can't please everyone right away.

🌱Tauruses can sometimes be much more picky and strict about what they want than Virgos. As far as the natural look is concerned, Taurus are more prone to like a natural look on their partner and sometimes stick to certain things they like on others. While Virgos know how to adapt and many times you can be surprised by what Virgos really like in a certain person.

🌌This may sound contradictory, but I think capicorn rising people invest much more in a relationship than libra rising people. These people invest a lot and work on relationships, things and want the best. Many times they make sacrifices for people, they are very responsible and stable. Libra rising can sometimes invest more in themselves than in others. Many times it happens that they quickly give up and can be quite a flirtatious sign.

🥑Capricorns and Aquarius placements can sometimes be prone to loneliness. Both signs are independent and do not like the freedom to help other people. Many times they want to do everything themselves. They feel best when they have their peace and their work.

Capricorn rising/ Saturn in 1st house people can have body dysmorphia a lot times. Sometimes it's hard for them to accept their body. They can be very critical to themselves, especially because capricorn it's in the first house & 1st house represents your appearance, your body ,how you look at yourself. They have MC in Scorpio so therefore many times they can attract people who sexualize them. They can also attract older people.

🫧Taurus degree/ placements you are very attached to certain things that are yours (Taurus represents owning things - more or less material) so it is very difficult for you to let go of something or give it to someone even if it is just chocolate because you feel that things that belong to you should be with you and be only yours. They like to give to others, but only when they decide that they want to give something, when something is taken from them without their consent, they will always consider it as having been taken from them.

❄️The difference between Taurus and Scorpio is that Taurus wants control over material things, money, things they enjoy. They find a sense of stability in this. Scorpios want to have control over people (they like to possess someone) and they want the person to be theirs only.

🦋Venus in 11th house-you like unique and special things. Which means that the style you have can be completely different from what other people wear around you. Many times you can wear something that others would never wear but it looks very good on you. Your outfit can have several different clothes, which are thus selected from several different stores or styles that you have noticed. For example: elegant, sporty, vintage and then you make one outfit out of it. They will never follow trends because they don't like it. And one thing that people don't understand is that they don't do it because they want to appear different, but because they value something special, unique, because they want to have something that is only theirs and represents them.

🛼Two signs that they actually love something that is old school vibe; old movies, old cartoons, especially cartoons. Are Taurus & Leo-both of them appreciate things that are valuable and have a special meaning and are of good quality. Leos appreciate everything related to childhood, they like to return to nostalgic memories. Taurus appreciate old things that have a deeper meaning.

💫Venuses who know how to enjoy and will always put enjoyment before other things are: venus in sagittarius, pisces, taurus & leo.

🥊Mars signs: Sagittarius mars is living in the moment vibes. They love being here & now. Doing nothing. Just observing environment.

Leo mars are the definition of how to choose a hobby, a joy without looking at others.

Aries mars are the definition of how to be independet and fearless.

Taurus mars are the definition of how to be calm.

Virgo mars are the definition of how to take care of your body and do the best for others - these people know how to take care of others. They are the best caregivers.

Capricorn mars will drop everything just to be with you.

Scorpio mars are the definition of how deeply committed they are to one person.

Pisces mars are the definition of how they sacrifice for others and how they put their needs before others.

Cancer mars are the definition of how they can make the space like a home.

Gemini mars are the definition of how they can switch from one thing to another. And how many things they can do at once.

Aquarius mars are the definition of how to do things completely differently than others do.

Libra mars are the definition of how to flirt with your beauty.

🎸For personal readings u can sign up here: https://snipfeed.co/bekylibra 🎸

-Rebekah🫧💍🌊

[bonesmarinated]

been playing a lot of Avatar Frontier of Pandora lately and im really enjoy the game. Here is my cat boy, his name translate to "Half Seen". He's vivacious, curious, always ask too many questions. He's interested in human craftmanship, the precision and technologies despite it being frown upon by his own kinds. Thanks to his fast adapting and isn’t afraid to take risks to complete an objective, Half Seen is tough and self-reliant. But he also has a compassionate heart that drives him to help people in anyway he can.

[davidtennantgenderenvy]

On David Tennant and Aging

So, I’ve seen a lot of posts in response to Tumblr users’ habit of affectionately calling their favorite middle aged dudes “old men”, David Tennant in particular, saying things like “clearly you’ve never met an actual old person”, “omg you talk about these guys like they’re 80”, “please be normal about people aging”, etc. And on one hand, all of these statements are objectively right and true! But as someone who’s always been really fascinated by and found a lot of beauty in getting older (which I’ve explored in some of my writing on A03 because nobody else is going to do it for me), I’d like to provide a bit more nuance on how I think this label applies to David in particular.

David, obviously, in literal terms, is not “old”, at least not to me- I don’t personally consider people old until they get past 60. 52 is middle aged, simple as that. And yet, when I see David stuck with the “old man” label, it still somehow feels weirdly right, for a number of reasons.

It annoys me so much when people say David “hasn’t aged a day since Doctor Who”, because, well…

He clearly has. A lot. He’s got forehead creases, deep crows’ feet and eyebags, and I think that post-Fourteen we’re gonna see him rocking the grey temples a LOT more. He also has the voice of an older man now, his upper range is still there but the default is much more deep and rich, with a gravelly, rumbling quality that just goes straight through you. I personally think Broadchurch was when David finally started to embrace looking his age- Alec Hardy just wouldn’t have been served by Ten’s fresh-faced boyishness.

Obviously, these are the kinds of changes you’d expect any 52-year-old man to have, but something about David just makes it all seem a bit more… intense? The expressiveness of his face combined with his almost gaunt frame makes his wrinkles very prominent, and when he works his voice to its emotional extremes, his lower register can sound positively ancient, to devastating effect.

David, I think, is someone with an old soul- I don’t think he could be as good as he is at playing ancient characters like Crowley and The Doctor if he weren’t. He has lived so many lives, given so much of himself to so many characters, often incredibly tragic ones, and I think it wears on him. David also has five kids. FIVE. Do you know how exhausting it is to be one of the hardest working actors alive and be a present, loving father to even ONE child? But David somehow does it anyway! Nowadays I see him and my heart breaks because he looks so tired, so weary and fragile. But he’s all the more beautiful for it to me because I know that that is because he is kind. He’s a deeply empathetic person who feels and lives to the absolute fullest, and that story is written so clearly on his face, along with every other story he has ever been a part of.

There’s other things about David that make the label endearingly fitting- his utter hopelessness when it comes to technology, for instance. And he’s just got that warm, wise, grandpa energy too sometimes- look at that above Fourteen picture and tell me I’m wrong!

I once showed my friend who’d only seen David in Doctor Who and Harry Potter a picture of David from Around The World in 80 Days. It was a particularly emotional scene, and his face had just the most beautiful expression of compassion and sadness, every wrinkle on full display. And she said, in a less than complimentary fashion, “he looks so old!” Which, of course, offended me quite a bit at first. But to me, referring to David as old almost feels like a badge of honor, something he’s earned by living fully and selflessly, working hard and being wise and compassionate beyond his years. I think David himself is secretly more than a little insecure about the fact that he’s getting older. There’s sadness behind every jovially self-depreciating remark he’s made about his age in the past year, particularly in comparing himself to Ncuti Gatwa. I know how much David struggles with his impostor syndrome and how people perceive him, and I can clearly see in his eyes the fear of being discarded, the anxiety he feels about if he’ll still be as loved as he was back in 2007 now that he’s closer in age to King Lear than he is to Romeo. So I hope David knows it’s a privilege to watch him grow older, to watch his soul and talents deepen with the crinkles around his eyes. If I, in my silly goofy tumblr girl-ness, call David Tennant an old man, it’s because it’s a label that suits him beautifully- even if it isn’t TECHNICALLY an accurate one yet.

[northgazaupdates]

My dear friend Suad is in dire need of aid in Gaza. She, her infant son Khaled, and three other family members are displaced from their home in the north. The exact number of times they have been displaced is frankly incalculable. So often, they have found a place to pitch a tent or build a makeshift structure for shelter, or found a room to rent with friends or family, only for occupation threats and attacks to send them literally running for their lives.

Khaled has suffered from intermittent fevers, skin infections, a chest infection, and breathing troubles. He has been hospitalized several times, and Suad has walked great distances and risked her life to bring him to specialists. His condition is aggravated by the dust generated from the IOF’s frequent bombings.

No one deserves to live like this, but especially not Suad. Let me explain to you all what a kind and compassionate person Suad is: she has lost everything, including her home and career, and is displaced in a war zone with a chronically ill baby. And yet she is so warm and considerate that she managed to find WiFi and used her scant technological resources to message me and make sure I was safe during Hurricane Milton. She is such a caring person who should be raising her baby and flourishing in her career, not living on the streets with American bombs overhead and IOF tanks at her back.

Her campaign has been open for months, but progress has been intermittent. It has stalled once again, and Suad is desperate for winter clothes for Khaled, diapers, formula, food, water, healthcare, and funds for transportation for when they will be displaced again.

Tumblr has now deleted Suad’s account for at least the fifth time. No warning or reason was given. The nights are getting colder, the bombs continue falling, and IOF troops continue attacking. Khaled is suffering serious diarrhea due to a lack of milk or formula and poor quality of food. Suad is beyond exhausted and feeling deeply depressed.

You can help her family and lift her spirits by supporting her campaign, reblogging this post, and reposting the link to her campaign across all your social media accounts.

Link to copy and paste: https://gofund.me/ebaee2af

Direct link below

Thank you

[lunarlianna]

Pluto generations

Aries (1823 - 1851)

The presence of Pluto in Aries defines a generation marked by a pioneering and assertive spirit, reflecting a profound longing for independence. Those influenced by this placement often take on key roles in instigating social change and revolutionizing established systems. Historical events from 1823 to 1852, such as the Wars for Latin American Independence, the First Opium War, and the Women's Rights Convention, exemplify the transformative impact of this astrological configuration.

Taurus (1852 - 1881)

Pluto's position in Taurus defines a generation characterized by unwavering perseverance, determination, and a profound connection to the material realm. These individuals prioritize stability, security, and the sustainable use of resources, leaving a lasting imprint on economic systems and environmental consciousness. Notably, during Pluto's transit in Taurus, the Industrial Revolution surged forward, marked by the rise of corporate structures in industries like railroads and steam engines.

Gemini (1882 – 1913)

The generation under the influence of Pluto in Gemini witnessed the dawn of the Second Industrial Revolution, aptly named the Technological Revolution. These individuals, marked by intellectual curiosity and adaptability, excelled in communication and media, significantly shaping cultural and technological progress. The era marked the birth of influential figures like John Maynard Keynes and Benito Mussolini, along with German scientist Robert Koch's identification of the tuberculosis bacterium. Notably, the First World War occurred during this period, bringing significant changes in all areas of life.

Cancer (1914 -1938)

Pluto in Cancer signifies a generation characterized by deep emotional sensitivity, nurturing instincts, and strong family values. Living through World War I, the Spanish flu pandemic, and the Great Depression, they grew up in a challenging era that shaped their conservative outlook. This generation, often referred to as the "Greatest Generation," prioritized family, spirituality, and adherence to societal norms. While their emphasis on politeness and chivalry had positive aspects, it also gave rise to dark elements such as sexist gender roles, racial segregation, and cultural supremacy.

Leo (1939 – 1958)

Pluto in Leo defines a generation marked by a quest for self-expression, creativity, and a hunger for recognition. Born during historical events like the Nazi invasion of Poland and the Battle of Stalingrad, these individuals challenged authority, imprinting their influence on art, entertainment, and leadership styles. Ruled by the Sun, Pluto in Leo symbolizes a fresh start after periods of war and chaos, fostering a sense of self-value and confidence. This prideful, generous, and naturally leadership-oriented generation, however, tends to resist change and stands firm in their philosophies as a fixed sign.

Virgo (1957 – 1971)

Pluto in Virgo defines a generation marked by a robust work ethic, practicality, and an innate drive for perfection. Born during pivotal events such as the first documented AIDS cases and Martin Luther King Jr.'s iconic "I Have a Dream" speech, these individuals contribute to societal shifts in health, wellness, and environmental consciousness. Ruled by Mercury, Pluto in Virgo emphasizes efficiency and hard work, fostering reliability, trustworthiness, and empathy. This generation focuses on rebuilding and technology, epitomizing an era of research and preparation, notably during the Cold War.

Libra (1972 – 1983)

Pluto in Libra defines a generation marked by a profound yearning for harmony, justice, and equality. With Venusian qualities, these individuals are inherently social, compassionate, and value connections with others. The events during their time, such as the end of the Vietnam War, the introduction of VHS, and the rise of personal computers, align with their commitment to justice and duty for the collective. This generation, while not necessarily seeking radical societal reshaping, is more focused on preserving law and order, offering assistance to those in need, and rectifying wrongs through the pursuit of justice.

Scorpio (1984 – 1995)

Pluto in Scorpio defines a generation marked by intensity, depth, and profound transformation, playing a pivotal role in societal shifts related to power dynamics, sexuality, and psychological exploration. While the preceding Pluto in Libra generation advocated for balance, Pluto in Scorpio pushed the limits, ushering in events like the Gulf War, the end of the Cold War, and the advent of the World Wide Web. Resilient and empowered, they navigated constant transformations, developing a keen ability to adapt and thrive through each metamorphosis. This generation also contributed to a shifting cultural perspective on sexuality.

Sagittarius (1996 – 2008)

Pluto in Sagittarius shapes a generation marked by a thirst for knowledge, cultural exchange, and a global perspective, contributing significantly to societal shifts in education, philosophy, and belief systems. This generation, embodies the archer's bravery and fearlessness, fostering a spirit of rebellion and outspokenness. Sagittarius' affinity for networking and socializing with individuals from various nations aligns with the rise of the internet, a tool that facilitates global connectivity. Key events during this period include the successful cloning of Dolly the sheep, the introduction of the Euro to financial markets, and the groundbreaking launch of the iPhone in 2007.

Capricorn (2008 – 2023)

Pluto in Capricorn defines a generation marked by ambition, pragmatism, and a distinct focus on challenging traditional structures, leading to transformative changes in politics, business, and governance. Ruled by Saturn, this era, encompassing events such as the launch of Bitcoin, the Syrian civil war, Edward Snowden's revelations on mass surveillance, and the COVID-19 pandemic, unfolded amidst the Great Recession and the rise of social media. The influence of Saturn instils a commitment to rules, regulations, and social changes that align with a desire for structure and order.

Aquarius (2024 – 2044)

Pluto in Aquarius heralds a generation marked by innovation, individuality, and an impassioned pursuit of freedom and social progress. The current era unfolds amid a new global order, carrying both anticipation and uncertainty. Emerging from the constraining Capricorn era, Aquarius brings a promise of hope, healing, and a future-focused mindset.

Pisces (2044 – 2067)

Pluto in Pisces gives rise to a generation marked by empathy, spirituality, and a deepening of the collective consciousness, contributing to societal shifts in compassion, art, and transcendence. As one era concludes and another begins, this period signals the resurgence of spirituality, with people connecting profoundly to the universe through meditation and prayer. Anticipated as a peaceful time with minimal conflict, technological progress may temporarily slow after the Aquarius era's boom. This wise generation is poised to challenge traditional norms, potentially leading to the disappearance of gender roles, marking a significant chapter in human evolution.