#i won't say it's written WELL but it is ENTERTAINING

[marathedemonoverlord]

Ahhh! Fam I KNEW I liked you for some reason my Dumb Ass can't stand Lilith either

Though for me it feels kind of icky cause when I first played the impression I got was she was their family/sister and since they look at Lilith like that and reference how you remind them of her and then some of them (Lucifer) want to bone the shit out of you- It just....

Like...

.... If you have a thing for your sister just say so- I promise I ain't mad just mildly disappointed HAH!

why do you hate lilith?

Imagine you’re dating someone you plan to stick with forever. Whether you marry and have kids or not is up to you... Now imagine they won’t... stop... talking... about their ex? All the good and bad stuff that came with their ex? That’s the main reason why, though there are more.

I’m sick of the talk of Lilith. Every time they bring lilith up, its in reference to something I said or did. like i get it, please stfu

i know lilith never dated any of the boys or anything, she was just like a little sister to them. but like STILL. i already have a gender crisis (lmao dsfjksngfd) i dont need a friggen identity criss bc they keep comparing me to ol dumb bitch lilith

also i can dodge arrows. lilith couldnt. we are not the same, smfh

[lynnie-ee]

Day 10; Fight.

╰┈➤"Your boyfriend's goals were very clear; Make you happy, spend time with you and defend you from anyone who dared to insult you in any possible way."

╰►Gender neutral reader, one-shot, 1.9k words. Kinda based on that one tweet that was like "My girl can wear whatever she want cause I can fight."

╰► Characters: Deuce, Jade, Floyd, Epel.

╰►Note: The prompts are based on words I found interesting and then I put them on a roulette to decide when I would write about them, lol. English is not my first language, so please let me know if there are any grammatical mistakes <3. Not proof read, I haven't written in a long time, so I apologise if anything is out of character.

╰►Masterlist / Inktober Masterlist.

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﹙❥﹚Deuce Spade ❜ ˖ ࣪⊹ ִֶָ

He tries his best, most of the time.

Every time he gets jealous or mad at someone else, he has to remind himself that he’s no longer a delinquent. 'Top students don’t engage in fights', he’d say to himself, even though he was well aware he had been in a few arguments with other students ever since he joined Night Raven College, each time promising himself it wouldn’t happen again.

Until it came to something related to you.

It was Halloween, it was supposed to be fun. You wanted to try a different costume this time, and decided to wear a more eccentric outfit, trying to match the extravagance of the other dorms.

You looked really cute, and Deuce was quick to compliment you, taking your hand with an excited demeanour, walking with you towards the Heartslabyul stand to show the rest of your friends your outfit.

He was really happy, as he walked along you, entertained as he listened to you talking about how you went into town and tried in many costumes before choosing that one, when he was able to hear a comment made by another Hearstlabyul student as they walked by.

"Well, they got no magic and no style, huh? Where did they even get that costume, at the kid's section?"

"Repeat what you just said." Deuce was quick to stop his walk, turning towards the student with a frown on his face.

"I said they look terrible." He answered with a defiant demeanour.

"They look perfect, are you out of your mind?" He got closer to the student with a menacing aura, ready to punch him if it was necessary.

"Not really, I've seen better-dressed scarecrows, why are you even letting them go outside like that?"

That was it.

Before you could even stop him, Deuce threw a punch directly at the guy's face, who wasn't even brave enough to defend himself, instead he just stood there holding his now bleeding nose, seemingly out of words now.

"And just so you know, they can dress however they want! And they got their costume at the adult section, don't say such stupid things!" He screamed as you dragged him out of the place, trying to avoid the small crowd that was starting to form due to the sudden commotion.

"Riddle's gonna kill you if he knows about this, you know?" You commented as you both walked to Ramshackle now, deciding to wait a bit before going to Heartslabyul.

"And It'll be worth it! He had no reason to say that kind of thing about you."

"I don't care, really."

"But I do! No one will insult you in front of me without getting what they deserve."

You giggled softly at his attitude, stopping briefly to plant a kiss on his cheek.

"Well, thank you, my Prince Charming." You watched as he blushed, timidly holding your hand.

"Whe-whenever you need it, my love!"

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﹙𖧵ֹֺֽ໋໋݊﹚Jade Leech ❜ ˖ ࣪⊹ ִֶָ

He can definitely fight, but it won't be his first option, unless the other person is the one who starts it, which never happens, because, well, he's Jade Leech.

He prefers to use more efficient techniques to make sure people never bother you again, which is why is widely known around school that no one should mess with Ramshackle's Prefect.

So imagine his surprise when, in the middle of one of his shifts, as you were sitting on one of the stools of the bar while waiting for him to be done, he heard a most unfortunate comment.

"Doesn't Azul always bother everyone about how this is a very distinguished place? I wonder who let them in while looking like that, they look like they came here straight out of bed."

As Jade was walking to a different table, he heard two students from Scarabia, making him promptly direct his gaze towards you, sitting by the bar with your headphones, without being aware of the words directed at you. It was Saturday, and you had stayed at his dorm last night, so you had decided to wear something comfy as you waited for your boyfriend. The outfit of the day was one of Jade's hoodies, which had a small embroidery of a mushroom on the front, along with a loose pair of jeans, as you supposed nobody would look at you in the secluded corner you chose to be.

You looked absolutely adorable in his eyes, and he wouldn't stand for malicious comments about you.

"Is everything alright? Are you enjoying your meal?" He asked politely towards the group of Scarabia students, who froze up immediately when Jade appeared out of nowhere, his smile more frightening than usual.

"Ye-yeah, everything is fine."

"I'm glad to hear that, but..." His smile widened as he got closer to the student who made the comment earlier, whispering so only he could hear. "I wonder if you'd be still fine if Professor Crewel knew about how you cheated on his last exam?" An innocent tone could be heard in his voice.

"How-how did you-?"

"This is a very distinguished place, as you know. It'd be inappropriate to allow patrons with such immoral attitudes to be seen in here."

"Let me talk to Azul, you can't-"

"Uh? What was that? I can't do it, you say?" He raised an eyebrow, a curious expression on his face, as he expected an answer from the nervous student, who knew better than to make Jade Leech angry.

"We-were finished either way, right? Thanks for the service, we'll be going!" The other student interrupted, quickly getting up to get ready to leave.

"Ah, I hope you enjoyed your time here." The vicehousewarden bowed politely. "But I hope you're aware that, if you make such inconvenient comments about my partner, I won't let you go as easily." He added with a close-eyed smile that didn't match his words in the slightest, as the students went away as fast as they could.

"Uhm, Jade? Your shift is about to finish, isn't it?" You asked taking your headphones out of your head to speak to your boyfriend more properly, as he placed one of your favourite drinks in front of you, his smile remaining on his face, but this time being softer.

"Yes, my love, just wait a bit more."

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﹙𖧵ֹֺֽ໋໋݊﹚Floyd Leech ❜ ˖ ࣪⊹ ִֶָ

Some days he fights, someday he doesn't care at all, some days he'll let you defend yourself if you want.

Either way, same as Jade, you weren't bothered often. No one would risk enraging the unpredictable Leech twin, and at first, when you started dating, some people wouldn't even look at you at risk of being misunderstood by the Octavinelle second-year.

It was less extreme now, as you've dated him for a while, but there were still some people who preferred to be more cautious around you.

But of course, there'll be always stupid people who'd make rude comments even when Floyd was near.

"Wish me luck, shrimpy!" Your boyfriend looked at you expectant, an excited smile on his face.

"Good luck, Floyd, score some points, okay?" You kissed his cheek softly, giggling when he accommodated the hoodie you were wearing, before going back to the basketball court.

You were in the stands, waiting for the start of a match between Night Raven College and another school which you didn't much about, you just knew that you were supposed to be there to support your boyfriend, and your friends too.

Floyd played better when you were around, and he liked to find you right away in the middle of the crowd, which is why he gave you his hoodie before the match. A hoodie that he likes to wear loose, and considering his height, you wondered if it'd fit you right when he offered it. You were wrong, and now you were sitting while completely drowning in the piece of clothing, making you look a bit out of place. But you didn't care, as long as he was happy.

The match started and everything went smoothly, as Floyd seemed to be on top of his game, scoring points left and right as he watched you cheer on him.

Until a student from the other school spotted you in the middle of the crowd, laughing to himself and then commenting on it with one of his classmates.

"Did you see that one student over there? I wonder if all the students here dress like such a mess, that hoodie is at least four sizes bigger than them."

"Perhaps they didn't even look themselves in the mirror before coming here, how embarrassing."

Floyd frowned as he heard such a comment about you, quickly deciding his strategy. He wouldn't allow words like that to be directed at his little Shrimpy.

"Hey, Floyd, pass it to me- what are you doing?!"

BAM.

The whole gymnasium fell into silence as Floyd threw the ball in the air. The thing was, that instead of being aimed to score a point, it landed on a different place...On the head of the student from the other school.

You could only watch in surprise, as Floyd turned around to show you a thumbs-up, as if he had solved a problem you had no idea about.

"Floyd! What was that?!"

It was a very effective strategy, at least.

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﹙𑁍﹚Epel Felmier ❜ ˖ ࣪⊹ ִֶָ

He'll fight at any opportunity that he gets.

After all, that's what a good boyfriend does, right? Defending you from stupid people it's his number one priority, and he wants to show you that you can depend on him.

It reaches a point in which Vil has to intervene, as it has been a regular thing lately, something the housewarden can't allow. 'Brutes don't belong in Pomefiore', is what he tells Epel one day as he scolds him, reminding him there are more ethical ways to solve things. Now he's on observation; one more fight and he'll be punished by cleaning all the windows of the dorm.

Ever since, he has been doing good, and you help him calm down when some stupid student from another dorm says something mean, telling him they don't know anything about the two of you.

But one day, as you both hang out in the Pomefiore lounge, he hears some second-years speak to each other across the room, as if you two weren't literally a few meters away from them.

"Did you see that atrocious sweater? No matter how you look a it, it doesn't match their jeans at all. Vil should stop letting people with such bad taste enter Pomefiore, don't you think?"

"What did ya say about (Y/n)?!" Epel startled you as he suddenly got up from the sofa you both were, quickly walking towards the other Pomefiore students, who observed him with a superior demeanour.

"We were talking about how badly your partner dresses. You're a Pomefiore student, Epel, you should know better than to let them walk outside with such ugly clothing."

"I gifted them that sweater! Take back your words, you idiot!"

"Even worse, you're absolutely tarnishing Pomefiore's reputation by-"

"And the next I'm gonna tarnish is gonna be your face if ya don't apologise to them, so hurry up, would ya?" Epel interrupted, promptly getting ready for fighting.

"Epel, let's just go to my dorm, okay? If you get into another fight you'll get punished." You tried to talk some common sense into him, considering that Vil would immediately know if there was an argument in his dorm.

"They're insulting you, ain't no way I'll letting 'em get away from that."

"But Vil-"

"I don't give a damn 'bout Vil-"

"What's the meaning of this scandal?!"

Well...You'll help him clean those windows, would you?

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[astralnymphh]

ellie never takes injury blithely. not with you, and not while in seattle. every second counts, in every matter possible. shepherding purgatory to abby, recovering tommy; the plan is a mirrored millpond, where every taken action is carefully watched, and nothing disrupts the gentle infrastructure. that is, until it was shaken by a setback of seraphite sorts and left you with an injured ankle. the theater became your constant panorama, with ellie trickling in here and there. always with a story to entertain boredom, sometimes written in blood. the seconds with you matter.

“just a sec.” she assures, rolling up her short sleeve. “can't be all gross and bloody when i do this.”

she sits at the flank of your makeshift bed, one leg tucked in, one leg supported by the floor. fist curled into a damp rag as she wiped away the story on her arms. the red, wringing evidence that everything outside that millpond reflected everything inside of it. holes in their plan. changes in nature. and it reflects heavily on her solemn face; quiet as the sycamore tree brushes, slowly plucking apart in fall, branches more visible each day. all that is soft has waned, and weakened against the sharpness outside those grand theater doors. she spites the desperation.

you could see the woe of your injury in her face. she really did put you first, in each and every way.

after a still silence, you croak in mumbles. “you know i can take care of myself. my arms and hands still function fine, and bandaging is easy—” you sit up to meet the level of her hung stare that shifts when your sentence ends, “tommy needs you out there.” filling her chest with air.

she huffs, “i know.” and tugs her lips to the side in thought, only for them to stretch into a stupid smirk when she says, “but you don't know how much this helps.” rolling her head to face you. auburn strands dangle.

“what helps?”

“this,” she whispers and drifts gently into you. easing her lips between yours without pressure, smacking away slowly. “seeing you alive still, keeping you that way. getting to kiss you,” she errantly adds.

cringe contorts your face. “okay,” but she continues to infect it with pecks, leading down the wings of your jaw. “well, kisses don't exactly heal an injured ankle any faster than letting me—”

“babe.” the name itself calls you to hush, a lone finger stroking up your lips. she wasn't staring at your eyes, either. her focus was solely on your lips, and you could feel that. breath in each whispered syllable hitting them. “this is really important, trust me. tired of leaving here without something to remember when m' out there. you'll get it.” her smirk only grows and snaps when the statement is sealed. humming with such satisfaction into your mouth; relieved that she won't be missing it any longer.

she relies on memory. more than ever.

side note: my birthday may or may not be on the 8th of this month.. treating myself to some fluff and angst (goddess knows i love torture🤞)

[sweetteaanddragons]

Lauriel

When Lauriel is growing up, she knows her older sister is a better singer than her. This is not because she's heard her sister singing all that much; her sister is fully grown and moved halfway across Aman before Lauriel is even thought of. But it is a thing people tell her of, a little awkwardly, a little gently, whenever she mentions her ambition to be a bard. Her sister is a better singer than her, and her sister is a potter. Ergo . . .

Lauriel takes up the flute. Her sister did not play the flute as a child and her rare letters don't mention it now; her sister cannot be better than her at the flute.

Her mother tells her flatly that this does not mean her sister wouldn't have been better at it, had she ever tried.

"It takes a lot of dedication to your craft to be a bard," her father says, a little more gently. "It's a very competitive field."

Left unsaid, but very much heard, is that Lauriel, of course, is far too flighty to have that sort of dedication.

It is not the first time they have had this conversation.

It is the last, because Lauriel vows to all the Valar that she won't set foot on the farm again until she's the greatest bard the Noldor have ever seen.

It does not take her long at the university in Alqualonde to learn that she is almost certainly never going to be so much as one of the best ten bards the Noldor have ever seen. This does not, however, stop people from still enjoying her music - or, for that matter, from enjoying her dancing, her conversation, her skill at the competitions that are all the rage at parties, and so she never lacks invitations to just about any event in town.

She's friends with everyone, and she hasn't written a single letter back to the farm, and she tells herself she doesn't care that none have come from there for her.

She doesn't talk to any of her friends about that.

She does talk to the woman with the tense, tight shoulders at the current party, swooping in to rescue her from the circle of jabbing fools around her; she's not sure why the other woman needs rescuing from the discussion of the night's musical entertainment, but it doesn't matter; she doesn't need to understand to recruit her to make up the numbers at Lauriel's table for cards.

Aranel is laughing when Prince Makalaure, of all people, comes by their table, which is how Lauriel learns that the woman she rescued is Prince Makalaure's wife.

He sees her flute in its case beside her and asks to hear her play.

He compliments her when she's done. Invites her to another party the next week.

Lauriel, of course, says yes.

She's never political. She's never really bothered about any of it.

But she starts to fall into his circle; their music is so passionate, so innovative, and she likes the way they circle around each other. They're dedicated to each other in a way the endless sea of her other friends aren't.

So when she hears someone being rude about his father, of course she speaks up; for all she knows Prince Feanaro is crazy, but that doesn't give anyone the right to be cruel about it.

She gets offered a job at the university in Tirion, and she thinks Makalaure recommended her for it; she finds out later he praised her skill with people as well as her music when asked for his opinion on the posting.

She finds other people start assuming she's political, even though she still doesn't much care whether they're allowed to sail back to Beleriand or not. She does care, though, about people being rude to her friends, and apparently that is political now, so political she is.

One of her friends is shocked that she's gone this long without hearing Prince Feanaro speak, so even though she still doesn't really care, she laughs and lets them drag her along to his next one.

She gets it now.

Why half of Tirion follows him and why half of Tirion thinks he's crazy.

She still doesn't really care. Even after the Incident - well, that was wrong, of course, but she doesn't see why people have to be rude to Makalaure and Aranel about it.

When the darkness comes, she goes with Feanaro's camp, of course. Almost all of Makalaure's circle does.

Partially because at least Prince Feanaro has a plan. Partially because everyone else is doing it.

Mostly because she hears Makalaure swear the Oath, and -

And her oath is not so burdensome a thing. She cannot go back to the farm; she has accepted she will never be able to go back to the farm. But she could still see her parents if they would come to her, if they would meet her elsewhere, if either she or they would ever just send a letter.

She feels it, though. Always, she feels it.

She wishes she had told him. She hadn't, ever; she hadn't known how to look at the actual greatest bard the Noldor have ever produced and admit to her adolescent ambition. But if she had swallowed her pride and told him - if he'd been warned -

She follows him.

(It is four ages later that she tells him at last; when he asks her, as they prepare to sail with Elrond, what she thinks of at last returning home.

"Oh, home's not really a place," she says in surprise. Home has been people for the past four ages of the world, and she has no intention of leaving those people now. "I suppose I'll have to wait and see if my parents choose to visit; I can't go to them unless they've moved."

This catches his attention. "Whyever not?"

"Well," she says, studiously not looking at him. "I swore an oath.")

(It is midnight when Elrond finds a furious Maglor correcting a beleaguered Lauriel's pitch in the garden.

"Are you planning on making our plea to the Valar for your brothers in the form of a concert?" he asks in bemusement. There is precedent, he supposes, with Luthien, but he would have thought Lauriel would have had more patience with the fevered practice if it were the case.

"It is no true teacher who cannot guide a student to surpassing himself," Maglor says grimly. "And it is no true prince who does not return loyalty. Lauriel will be the greatest bard the Noldor have ever produced."

"I don't want to be," she says in some desperation. "I really don't. I don't care if I can't go back to the farm."

"You should have the option," Maglor says firmly. "Now try again.")

[northopalshore]

Jungkook's Midheaven Persona Chart

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑

I'm going to do a brief rundown on his career life as an example attachment to my MC persona chart masterlist. Mostly pertaining to his career going forward.

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑

ஓ๑Cancer rising (22°capricorn)

He is seen as someone innocent & genuine. People are likely to get attached to him very easily, seeing him as a beacon of comfort. Although, underneath that they see him as a very goal/career driven man. Also, this means his marriage life will also be quite prominent in his career. He may work with his wife somewhere down the line in his career. (Cancer & Capricorn). Many people will judge him for his nature early on which may or may not be hindered due to others perception as he grows older. He could change that image going forward, which may be shocking to some people who want him to remain the same.

ஓ๑Briede (28° cancer) , Groom (26° taurus) in the 7th house

You can expect him to work with his spouse eventually, I can't say for sure that she'll be singing as well just yet. However, people will acknowledge them as partners regardless of where they go or even if they are alone. His wife will gain a lot of attention or traction through him. At first, people will think of her as "Jungkook's spouse" but later, it will develop into a duo type of thing. They'll be branded; you can't have one without the other.

It's sort of like Beyoncé & Jay-Z, but their relationship feels more like MJ & Lisa Marie Presley (their shock factor). You'll never detach their image from one another in the future.

ஓ๑Eros (9° sagittarius) in Leo 1st house

He will be heavily sexualised through his career. Already happened from the early stages of his career. Most come from people he doesn't know, or international fans. They are very passionate about him. As long as his youth is with him, it won't stop, though it might also continue throughout him being a father (leo) perhaps until his children become young teens (?).

You won't see his passion, & drive at first glance (since his rising is cancer here) but once he starts working it shows. He puts his all into what he does and takes much pride in it.

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑

ஓ๑Leo in the 2nd House

Gaining money through creative work, standing out, dealing with people younger than him or even the music/entertainment industry in general. Acting could be a part of his career (whether just through music videos or more in the future).

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑

ஓ๑Virgo in the 3rd House

His work will involve a lot of planning, and a lot of critical thinking. Plans, events, trips will likely always have a layed out itinerary he must follow/make.

He's not gonna be uploading any last minute song anytime soon lmao.

ஓ๑Juno (12° pisces)

A lot of his current songs, including ones with BTS are love centric, or at least tell of an idealistic type of love. Something far off, though everything here is not written on a whim or inspired by specific people, but rather a vague idea of a perfect partner/soulmate. It's in the past & the future, so you'll likely see more similar concepts going into the future, this time perhaps... Inspired by his wife? Also, you can expect some of his future art to be related to past lives. Spirituality will also be something more prominent in the future. Hoho we'll see.

ஓ๑North Node (19° libra)

He was born to work with partners, whether it'd be a contract with a company, a group of close friends, or even his spouse. You will see that his name is usually going to be paired with someone/something else. He works best with collaborative events. These are what will be impactful both in his life & to others.

ஓ๑Populus (20° scorpio)

He will (have) receive(d) much attention for his voice and his skills, this is what people will often talk about whenever they hear his name, or see his face on billboards or posters while walking by. They'll think he is spectacular in a way that differs from the previous male artists in the industry he's in. Provoking both jealousy and obsessive behaviour from fans/haters.

ஓ๑Lilith (23° aquarius)

It's likely whatever it is he'll be doing going foreward will be very different from what people are used to seeing from him. Perhaps you'll see him handling darker ideas or concept. Could also be related to social events/issues. I'd say similar to Michael Jackson (in which he'd advocate a lot of the issues & mistreatment of the world through some of his songs) but in a different way compared to MJ. Especially since it's conjuncting populus. It's likely to draw up a lot of talk and controversy, where people will say "this isn't him", but do they really know him?

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑

ஓ๑Libra 4th house (9° sagittarius)

People he works with will likely tell you how great he is to work for, he's very kind and open minded, and perhaps a little bit of a comedian. Most of the people he'll work with will be from overseas or perhaps from different walks of life especially going foreward from here.

ஓ๑Sun (27° gemini) in Libra

He will be remembered as a lover, particularly someone's lover. People with this placement usually gain a lot of attention (& at times notoriety) for their relationship or love life. Elizabeth Taylor also has this placement, which well. Is not surprising. In his case however, he won't be known for his multiple marriages but rather just his marriage or life with his partner going into the future. Please remember that his career doesn't end in his 20s, & things that haven't manifested will likely show up in the near future.

ஓ๑Mercury (1° aries) in Scorpio

He has a very competitive way of thinking. Always trying to find a way to be the best or come out on top. Still, he isn't thinking about just himself but also the people he works with (Mercury in the 4th house). How do they stand out, without falling apart? That is something he'll likely have in his mind a lot.

ஓ๑Chiron (6°virgo) in Scorpio

The earliest stages of his career was filled with a lot of trails & errors as well as instability and chaos. A lot of the times they've found themselves at the verge of disbanding, or discontinuing their career. A lot of what BTS has gone through may have been unbearable for the average person. Even for people in their industry.

ஓ๑Sun squaring Uranus(4° cancer), Neptune (27° gemini) & Groom (26° Taurus) in the 7th house

Elizabeth Taylor's Sun also squares uranus but her's is in the 1st house which means it's more personal. Since Jungkook's Uranus & Neptune are conjuncting in the 7th house (aquarius), people are always going to assume the worst when it comes to him & his spouse. Often times however, the things said will not reflect their situation or relationships at all. The relationship isn't the problem. It's the people that talk & gossip about it.

ஓ๑Sun trine Moon (26° Taurus) in Gemini 12th house

It's likely that they will be very private with what happens within the relationship. Just to protect their union. Also, the public's perception is not going to shake them. They will remain as they are without the need to satisfy the demands of the public, keeping their personal lives to themselves.

In the context of him himself, it's likely he feels a little detached from the image that he's given, keeping his thoughts to himself most of the time. Still, he will communicate what he feels when he feels comfortable (at home). His mind is extremely active, albeit kept hidden. Since his mercury also trines moon in the 12th house.

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑

ஓ๑5th house stellium

It's no surprise to see this especially since he's an artist. His career is focused on creativity, art & just passion in general. His career mostly appeals to the younger generation. He'll be very fortunate when pursuing any artistic endeavour as everyone will see his talent through his face & body language. Although fun, it's not something he treats as a game.

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑

ஓ๑Starr (5° leo) in Capricorn 6th house

Working as a performer, gaining a lot of attention for his hard work & professionalism.

ஓ๑Boda (6° virgo) in Capricorn 6th house

This man will literally be married to his job lol. His marriage will be tied to his career in one way or another in the future.

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑

ஓ๑Neptune (27° gemini) , Uranus(4° cancer), & Jupiter( 12° pisces) in the 7th house

He's known for being a part of a group, under the same company (BTS). He feels very connected to them and although not related, feels like his own family (uranus 4°). This is also how people perceive BTS, a family that brings people together.

ஓ๑Groom (26° Taurus) in Capricorn 7th house

Going into the future, he'll likely be seen working or incorporating his spouse with his career as well. He likely also will brand himself as a husband at some point. Prefering to be called "My wife's husband." Lol. I can't really picture any other comparison besides Beyoncé & Jay-Z. That's the best way I can describe it.

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑

ஓ๑Union (19° libra) in Aquarius 8th house

The moment his relationship is revealed, it will be shocking to everyone who's ever heard of him. They will never expect him to end up with the person that he married. Their relationship will be heavily criticised and obsessed over. Still, once they see them working together, it will make sense. Their relationship will likely change the direction his career will go from there.

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑

Let's just.. see where it goes.

@northopalshore

@northopalshore mc persona chart 2024.

[k1ss0fjudas]

untitled mean lucifer fic

(first time posting something like this anywhere but regardless of that, enjoy. all lowercase and not beta-read. just slightly edited wordvomit pretty much. written and uploaded on mobile.)

tags/cw: nsfw, lucifer being mean, gender neutral reader/mc, dub-con (implies that lucifer wouldn't stop if you asked him to but only bc he knows whats best for u. ur rlly into it i promise), degradation + name-calling, puppy play, creampie, spanking (a little), breeding mention but not too in-detail - thats abt all i can think of.

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

lucifer fucks you like he hates you.

when he allows you to warm his bed he makes sure you know it is a mercy on his part to even let you touch him, let alone in the haphazard, careless way you do— impatient and needy and pathetic.

an excitable, dumb puppy is the image he always circles back to; especially when you're on your knees and peering up at him with those wet, lost eyes of yours— tongue out and panting like a bitch in heat for a taste of his cock. you're so pitiful.

aw, don't look so sad. there's always a fondness for you nestled in his chest. who can blame him when you're such a tantalizing little thing? you're simply too endearing to ignore. you were made for him; made to be picked up by his own two hands and have him break you into something fun.

he knows you won't disappoint. mammon can talk all he wants with that idiotic mouth of his, you are lucifer's pet, and being lucifer's pet means that you will always entertain him without fail. it's what good pets like you live for. you really think lucifer would settle for anything less?

and what a good little pet you are, making such sweet sounds when he truly starts the process of breaking you in, bending you over the bed— ass up and face down so you can be properly bred and mounted like the dirty little mutt you are.

his hands are tight around your hips in case you decide to run away. you have a tendency to believe that you have any say in how lucifer plays with you. it's nothing a little punishment can't fix.

when light spankings aren't enough to tame you he pulls on your hair and makes it hurt, tormenting you even more with a mean little chuckle when you whine at him for 'being too rough'. if he's feeling especially evil he'll chastise you with a heavy slap to your ass to remind you that a "good little whore takes cock with no complaints." dumb cocksleeves like you always remember your place after a few good and hefty slaps.

and what kind of owner would he be if he didn't cum inside and mark you as his? you know he's reaching his limit when he starts to breathe a little heavier— huffing and puffing through clenched teeth as he presses your face even deeper into the bed. if you bitch and moan he might even try to suffocate you a little just as a reminder that you are his puppyslut to fuck and abuse. not even you can tell him how to use your holes, whether it be to satisfy him or to simply breathe.

you should be thanking him, really. you like to pretend you hate it when he's mean to you like this but he feels the way your fuckhole squeezes around him when he is.

it's okay, he'll treat you the way you deserve.

and what you deserve is to be collared and leashed, fucked and bred, used and abused. all of that is something lucifer can provide so make sure you lay there and take it all when he suddenly pushes balls deep inside you and cums. it's hot and so thick and there's just so much of it that you can barely hold it. you should pray to whatever there is out there that it won't leak onto the bed, unless you want lucifer to click his tongue and scold you, muttering something to himself about how he "should have known that a stupid whore like you would be incapable of doing something as simple as being a cumdump."

what a shame, really. oh well. that only means that you're going to have to be pumped full of cum for the next few hours until you learn to be a proper cumrag. aw, don't look so scared, puppy. you're only going to turn lucifer on even more.

in fact, he's already hard and rearing to go, pressing his tip against your freshly broken-in hole. he'll fuck you even rougher and he'll be so smug watching you struggle beneath him. aw, trying to run away again? that simply won't do.

now be a good little bitch and take it.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddie-week.

Reach Out and Touch Someone

Day #7 - Prompt: Free Space | Word Count: 1500 | Rating: T | CW: Language, Alcohol | POV: Steve | Tags: AU, Wrong Number, Right Person Trope, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Meet-Cute

Steve dials the number messily scrawled on the scrap of paper. He’s nervous. He’s always nervous when he has to stick his neck out and make a move on a girl these days. 

Yeah, he did the first bit of legwork and got her number out at the bar last night. But he's fumbled the ball and failed enough times, Robin's loving, but accurate, "you suck" burned in his brain, that he's always leery to try again. He should be used to it by now, but it’s still uncomfortable and awkward, every goddamn time. If his friends weren't all fretting about his emotional well-being from being so terminally alone, he wouldn’t put forth half the effort anymore. 

He has Robin. He has his cat. He's happy. 

It rings three times before he hears it connect, “Hello?”

It’s a man’s voice, and he hesitates for just a moment, “I’m looking for, uh, Lyla?”

“Sorry, man. Wrong number.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I must have misdialed,” Steve says, a different kind of embarrassment. But this is one he can handle easier, for sure. So he pushed the wrong button somewhere along the way. His eyesight isn't the best thing he's got going for him.

“No worries, man,” the other guy laughs, seemingly carefree about being bothered.

They each disconnect and then Steve reads, and re-reads, the number before dialing again. More carefully this time.

It rings only once before it’s connected.

“Still me, dude,” the familiar voice relays, still light and friendly.

“Wow. I’m so sorry. Clearly, I was given a fake number. That's embarrassing,” Steve laughs, because this is more embarrassing than misdialing. He's uncomfortable and mortified to admit that this girl just didn't want him to call her. Even if he's only admitting it to a stranger.

She should have just told him no. He hates that she didn't, for her sake, too.

“Shitty move,” the other guy answers.

“Yeah, well. I'm sorry I bothered you. Again. I promise to cross-check any future numbers against yours before dialing, just in case.”

The guy laughs, "Well, now. Don't go to any trouble for my sake. Honestly,” and he doesn't sound put-out at all, “don’t worry about it. She clearly didn’t have the balls to just, be, like, honest. That sucks.”

Steve laughs, maybe if she'd had balls this wouldn't have happened at all. Most men feel more comfortable just saying no, he thinks, which is sad but true. He swings both ways, and maybe he should take this as a sign to lean the other way for a while. See if that works out any better for him. 

It probably won't, but he could try.

“There goes my big weekend plans,” Steve teases, uncertain why he does it, even as the words tumble out of his mouth. He needs to hang up the phone and let this guy get back to his own life.

“Dude. That's a problem I can solve. I’m gigging tonight. You have to come. Let me entertain you.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Whatever. I want to. Just show up. It’ll be a great story, will it not?”

It would be a great story. One he could even tell Robin to convince her he’s living a little, “I don’t even know your name. What if you’re a serial killer or something?”

“Yep, that’s me. Vicious killer,” the guy laughs, “I’m Eddie, man. And I’m a fucking ball to be around. You’ll want to take me up on this awesome offer. We’ll all be down at Hellfire Club around eight. Show up. If you think we’re murderous, you don’t have to follow us to any secondary, secluded locations.”

Hellfire Club is literally two blocks from Steve’s apartment. He's been past it countless times, but never inside. It's always dark. Like it's not even open, making him unsure about what kind of bar it is, it's so nondescript from the outside. Not to mention the name is a little intimidating. He'd half-convinced himself it's a BDSM club. 

But, now that he's been invited, he could just walk down and see what’s the what, “How will I know which guy you are?”

Eddie laughs, “You’ll know. Trust me.”

Steve has a hard time trusting anyone new these days, but Eddie seems friendly enough. 

Steve realizes he must have been quiet for too long, because Eddie starts talking again.

“I’ll have on a badass battle vest. Look for that. You'll see me. It's impossible not to. I promise.”

“Okay,” Steve agrees, even if he’s not sure what a battle vest even is.

“Now, are you going to tell me your name, or will that just be a surprise?” Eddie asks.

Steve laughs, “Steve. I’m Steve.”

“Well, I’ll see you later, Steve.”

Steve stands in front of his closet for far too long, trying to find something to wear that doesn’t look too nerdy. He assumes Eddie's cool. He sounded cool, and Steve may have been cool in high school, but these days he just keeps his head down and goes through life, content to be fairly unnoticed. He finally settles on a black t-shirt. Basic, classic. Timeless.

Boring. 

But that's a risk he's willing to take.

He walks down the street slowly and arrives around eight-thirty. The windows are still all blacked out, tinted to the point he can't see anything inside. There's just the neon sign with the Hellfire Club over the door.

When he pulls open the door, he's in a hallway that's painted all black, with a bouncer at the end, stationed at a door. Steve kind of wants to turn around, flee, but he doesn't. He's already here. He might as well at least see. Robin will kill him if he chickens out.

He gives his ID to the bouncer, and is directed down a staircase. He really hopes this isn't a sex club. 

It's not.

And as soon as he crosses the threshold into the bar, yes, he knows Eddie instantly. He’s gotta be the one on the bar, pouring shots directly into various mouths. Steve knows he could turn around right now and this adventure could end. But watching Eddie laughing and prancing up and down the bar with flourish, clearly having fun, makes Steve want to go up and meet this guy.

Steve takes an open seat at the end of the bar, kind of out of the way, and just watches Eddie work the crowd.

The bar is blaring It's Raining Men and Eddie is playing up the song, big time. He's not a stripper, at least Steve doesn't think he is, but he's working the crowd for tips, absolutely. He keeps handing them down to a curly-headed guy, who keeps stuffing them into an overflowing jar.

Steve's pretty sure this is a gay club, or at least queer friendly. Maybe he has found a place for himself, something that's been right here under his nose, all this time.

When Eddie finally jumps down off the bar, Steve watches him work the rest of the room.

The other guy comes over and takes Steve's order, and he doesn't quite have the same flourish, but he's efficient and confident with a bottle and jigger.

"Name for the tab?" he asks, shaking the drink Steve had picked from the list.

"Steve," Steve says, and the guy looks up and meets his eyes.

Surely not. This doesn't feel like this is Eddie. He is wearing a vest, a red plaid one, but the other guy also has a denim vest on, full of patches.

"Eddie?" Steve questions, needing to make sure.

"Gareth," the guy says, "that's Eddie," he clarifies, pointing at the one Steve had correctly clocked as Eddie to begin with. "You're his wrong number guy, right?"

Steve nods. He supposes that's what he is, "Yeah. That's me. Loser in love."

Gareth laughs, and it makes Steve smile.

"That's our specialty here, you'll feel right at home," Gareth teases.

"Glad to hear it."

"I'll tell him you're here," Gareth assures, "he wasn't sure you'd come."

"That makes two of us," Steve admits, and Gareth smiles as he finishes shaking Steve's drink, putting it down in front of him.

"On the house. First-timers to Hellfire drink free," Gareth says, and then he's walking away. 

Steve's eyes follow Gareth across the bar, watching as he taps Eddie on the shoulder, leaning close to his ear, pointing right at Steve.

Eddie looks, meets his eyes, and Steve raises his hand, giving him a small, little wiggle of his fingers.

A huge smile spreads across Eddie's face as he bounds in Steve's direction.

Eddie's quickly right in his personal space, squeezing both of Steve's shoulders, greeting him with a smile, "Welcome to Hellfire."

Steve smiles, liking the feeling of Eddie's hands bleeding through his t-shirt, warming him.

Eddie lets go, and Steve misses the feeling already, but Eddie stays. Sliding onto the stool next to Steve, "I'm glad you came."

And Steve's completely honest as he answers, "Me too."

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddie-week and follow along with the fun!

Notes: If you're too young to remember it, reach out and touch someone was the slogan/jingle for Bell System telephone company back in the day. So, that's where the title comes from, as a play on the wrong number phone call trope.

[battlekidx2]

I'm making this post purely to shout out some incredibly talented fanfic writers from the Hazbin Hotel fandom and my favorite works of theirs.

Did anyone ask me for this? No. Will I post it anyway? Absolutely. The writers in this fandom are too good.

The first fanfic writer I want to shout out is @prince-liest (ao3 link)

I absolutely love their get cared for idiot (Alastor) series (not the official name but they called it that in one of their asks jokingly so it's now the default in my head).

Knock, Knock! It's Your Worst Fucking Nightmare! (this fic gets it!!!! This is what I meant when I said Alastor is growing a heart and part of him is raging against it. He still has ulterior motives and a massive amount of pride and part of him feels like that growing fondness is getting in the way, but he can't stop it. I need to stop before this becomes a long ramble. I've written a couple thousand words on this idea, but this fic is just a better use of your time than any meta I could ever write and way more entertaining :D )

Happily Ever After, and Other Shit Nepotism Can't Buy

The Last Bus Stop in Hell, Now Boarding (Please look at the tags for content warning. Angel and Alastor body swap story.)

They're amazing at balancing on that razor's edge with Alastor where there's a heart in there (really deep) and he's unintentionally growing attached to the hazbin crew, but he doesn't lose his edge. He's still manipulative and an asshole and can easily be the scariest guy in any room. He's in hell for a reason. A+ characterization at all times.

They're so good at writing the complicated dynamics he has with the residents, especially Charlie, and I enjoy how they expand on Alastor's potential dynamic with Angel Dust.

Anything they write from Lucifer's POV is gold too! My favorites are:

Take Two and Leave a Voicemail!

The Care and Keeping of Homo Angelus

I am also 100% here for their Aro!Alastor agenda and I'm enjoying their fic I Love Her, I Love Her Not so far!

The second person I want to shout out is @grayintogreen (ao3 link)

Their series Red Roses and Dead Things consistently gut punches me.

Just like Princeliest, they are also fantastic at balancing on that razor's edge with Alastor. A+ characterization for everyone and I love how they write HuskerDust. It's so soft, especially in the aftermath fic for Learn that Even Death May Die called If My Love Is Tomorrow, I've Forgotten Yesterday (that fic hurt in the best way).

The way they explore the aftermath of Learn that Even Death May Die is incredibly impactful. They capture the unique grief that comes from the reality that there are some things you won't get closure for so well that it's painful.

I can't say enough good things about their series. Genuinely go read it.

I found @lediz-watches (ao3 link) before the first season of Hazbin Hotel dropped (I've been a fan of the hellaverse for a few years now and have been enthralled with the Hazbin Hotel pilot since I first watched it in 2020) and I really enjoy their fics.

My favorite is Suffering Kindness. I love the Charlie and Alastor dynamic they explore in this story. I think I'm just a sucker for the Charlie and Alastor dynamic in general, but this fic hits all the right notes for me. (written pre-season 1 but man is it good. 100% recommend)

LeDiz also has a lot of one-shots/collections of one-shots that are very fun.

The Cure for Inexorable Boredom

Dollface (one-shots about Alastor theories. My favorite is the 3rd one. So fascinating!)

Choice Words (one of the few explorations of Alastor and Vaggie's dynamic that I've found in the fandom)

Don't Say It

I have to shout out @ckret2 (ao3 link) and their phenomenal fic You’ve Got a Face for Radio. This is such an amazing aroace!Alastor fic. (Embarrassingly it was this fic that made me realize I was most likely aroace myself. I’d had fleeting moments of suspecting it but it wasn’t until I saw my experiences laid out in a character explicitly written to be aroace that I put the puzzle pieces together. -_- some of these passages were too relatable.) I cannot express how much I love this fic.

I also like their fics Dumpster Baby and Bitter Grapes.

I have one last writer I want to mention because this is getting really long (whoops). The last one is tiredoflofteranditsshit and their Assume He Has a Heart series (because my favorite character and how I interpret them was not obvious enough already with the fics/authors I've recommended. I had to make it more obvious).

These fics are massive (17k and 26k words) and so much fun. Definitely worth the read. Yet another series that follows up season 1 and explores Alastor’s growing connections and how he lies to himself and pushes against it. Love this series and there’s a lot to sink your teeth into :D

[ofbreathandflame-archive]

With the rise of booktok/booktwt, there's been this weird movement against literary criticism. It's a bizarre phenomenon, but this uptick in condemnation of criticism is so stifling. I understand that with the rise of these platforms, many people are being reintroduced into the habit of reading, which is why at the base level, I understand why many 'popular' books on booktok tend to be cozier.

The argument always falls into the 'this book means too much to me' or 'let people enjoy things,' which is rhetoric I understand -- at least fundamentally. But reading and writing have always been conduits for criticism, healthy natural criticism. We grow as writers and readers because of criticism. It's just so frustrating to see arguments like "how could you not like this character they've been the x trauma," or "why read this book if you're not going to come out liking it," and it's like...why not. That has always been the point of reading. Having a character go through copious amounts of trauma does not always translate to a character that's well-crafted. Good worldbuilding doesn't always translate to having a good story, or having beautiful prose doesn't always translate into a good plot.

There is just so much that goes into writing a story other than being able to formulate tropable (is that a word lol) characters. Good ideas don't always translate into good stories. And engaging critically with the text you read is how we figure that out, how we make sure authors are giving us a good craft. Writing is a form of entertainment too, and just like we'd do a poorly crafted show, we should always be questioning the things we read, even if we enjoy those things.

It's just werd to see people argue that we shouldn't read literature unless we know for certain we are going to like it. Or seeing people not be able to stand honest criticism of the world they've fallen in love with. I love ASOIAF -- but boy oh boy are there a lot of problems in the story: racial undertones, questionable writing decisions, weird ness overall. I also think engaging critically helps us understand how an author's biases can inform what they write. Like, HP Lovecraft wrote eerie stories, he was also a raging racist. But we can argue that his fear of PoC, his antisemitism, and all of his weird fears informed a lot of what he was writing. His writing is so eerie because a lot of that fear comes from very real, nasty places. It's not to say we have to censor his works, but he influences a lot of horror today and those fears, that racial undertone, it is still very prevalent in horror movies today. That fear of the 'unknown,'

Gone with the Wind is an incredibly racist book. It's also a well-written book. I think a lot of people also like confine criticism to just a syntax/prose/technical level -- when in reality criticism should also be applied on an ideological level. Books that are well-written, well-plotted, etc., are also -- and should also -- be up for criticism. A book can be very well-written and also propagate harmful ideologies. I often read books that I know that (on an ideological level), I might not agree with. We can learn a lot from the books we read, even the ones we hate.

I just feel like we're getting to the point where people are just telling people to 'shut up and read' and making spaces for conversation a uniform experience. I don't want to be in a space where everyone agrees with the same point. Either people won't accept criticism of their favorite book, or they think criticism shouldn't be applied to books they think are well written. Reading invokes natural criticism -- so does writing. That's literally what writing is; asking questions, interrogating the world around you. It's why we have literary devices, techniques, and elements. It's never just taking the words being printed at face value.

You can identify with a character's trauma and still understand that their badly written. You can read a story, hate everything about it, and still like a character. As I stated a while back, I'm reading Fourth Wing; the book is terrible, but I like the main character. The worldbuilding is also terrible, but the author writes her PoC characters with respect. It's not hard to acknowledge one thing about the text, and still find enough to enjoy the book. And authors grow when we're honest about what worked and what didn't work. Shadow and Bone was very formulaic and derivative at points, but Six of Crows is much more inventive and inclusive. Veronica Roth's Carve the Mark had some weird racial problems, but Chosen Ones was a much better book in terms of representation. Percy Jackson is the same way. These writers grow, not just by virtue of time, but because they were critiqued and listened to that critique. C.S. Lewis and Tolkien always publically criticized each other's work. Zora Neale Hurston and Langston Hughes had a legendary friendship and back and forth with one another's works which provides so much insight into the conversations black authors and creatives were having.

Writing has always been about asking questions; prodding here and there, critiquing. It has always been a conversation, a dialogue. I urge people to love what they read, and read what they love, but always ask questions, always understand different perspectives, and always keep your mind open. Please stop stifling and controlling the conversations about your favorite literature, and please understand that everyone will not come out with the same reading experience as you. It doesn't make their experience any less valid than yours.

[domreader-headcannon-scenarios]

There's a whole bit about Satan and Sitri not knowing what a dildo is, and whether or not they call it something else in canon I like to imagine that they actually don't have toys in hell and they think it's just a silly human thing, cause if you want pleasure you could just ask for it, who cares.

Cue Ppyong coming back from earth with MC's hitachi wand in his little bag and MC getting evil thoughts.

The demon decides to humor them. Sure, whatever, you can use that little machine on them. They have a little pride about it, joking or not, mentioning how it won't compare to actually touching him, but go ahead, he's curious.

Maybe twenty minutes later and he's trembling, holding on to you like you're a lifeline as you use it on him. You tell him that this is the low setting and they whine.

Ah, this was meant to be a request, but it's kinda long now. If you understand where I'm going then can I ask for something like this to be written for Satan, Lucifer, and Gabriel but for the replaced god au, if you want? If you do decide to write for Gabriel you can make that a separate post if you need to.

I really love this!! (And spoilers but Mc summons dildos infront of Mammon, Satan, Sitri, Marbas, and Foras. None of them know what they were!

So like, I know there ARE sex toys in hell, but they don’t seem to have as many as humans! So that leaves so many thoughts!!

They’d be so sensitive to the vibrations at first…(I have a pastel blue/green one I’m using as reference;) )

-

Satan

Cw: overstim,

Satan lazily watched you prepare the hitachi wand, he was confused as to why you were lubing his dick, shouldn’t you prepare the toy to go inside him? “(M/c)? What does that thing do?” Satan asked in a bored tone.

“It vibrates.”

You turn it on, it’s the lowest setting but the toy is fully charged, so it’s quite strong against Satan’s unprepared manhood. He jumps and hisses as his body adjust to the sensation. You can see him lose focus for a few seconds before he grabs the bed sheets and claws into them. You grin and press it against the tip of his cock, Satan howls, thighs snapping shut around your waist.

“F-fuck! T-that’s strong…” Satan hissed out, trying to regain composure but unable to do so. He’s panting, his heart is racing and he’s positively dripping pre in response to the toy. He moans and rolls his hips forwards, his eyes blurring as he does so.

“Yeah, it’s used as a ‘personal massager’ for humans to get off on their own, or use on their partner like this.” You say calmly, slowly, intentionally pausing to draw out his torture. You were taking your time overstimulating him, it was fun!

“W-well if this is the strongest setting, t-then I have nothing to worry about!” Satan laughs out. Even as he’s clearly blushing, embarrassed and being overstimulated, he’s trying to act like he’s holding his own.

“Oh this is the lowest setting!” You laugh out. Lightly flicking the wand up one more setting. Satan whimper and grabbed your hand, the toy was vibrating so hard he couldn’t even keep his hand still, though he doesn’t tell you to stop.

“W-wait you can’t turn it up like that! He whines, nearly screaming as you press the wand down on his sensitive tip. His hips tremble and you can see the muscles in his stomach convulsing, you have to hold his cock still as it pulsates. He cums in your hands fast. Too bad for him you don’t stop, as his bliss wears off and the overstimulation kicks in, it nearly hurts to feel the wand vibrating in his cock.

Lucifer

Cw: overstim,

Lucifer didn’t think this through, he for some reason thought he could…tone it out? Lucifer upon seeing the wand was bored and laid down, acting like he’s rather sleep than entertain the toy. When you mentioned its intense he dared you to put it on the highest setting.

He thought he was being smart.

Too bad you two have the same brain cell.

As soon as you turned it on, he’s hissing, trying to wiggle away from the toy. His cock actually a quite a bit of pre out almost instantly. He moans and you can see the shock on his face, his eyes black, his iris no longer visible.

“T-turn it down!” He hisses, he’s confused when you don’t do anything, he tries to growl but you press the wand down on the tip of his cock, turning his growl into a whimper. “Turn it down-now!”

You laugh and press the lower button to turn it ‘down’. But nothing happens.

You mean forward and whisper into his ear, he can barely hear you over the buzzing of the wand and his heart racing.

“Lucifer. This IS the lowest setting…”

Lucifer whimpers in frustration and disbelief. This is a joke, you can’t be serious…but he hears the toy clicking, letting him know you’re not lying. He tries to ignore it, but he can almost feel himself going numb from the vibrations and he knows he can’t last long. He trembles and watches the toy, his cock is practically drooling out his seed…it’s pitiful…

Gabriel (Replaced god Au)

Cw: overstim

Gabriel was trembling, the toy wasn’t even on, you haven’t even done much more than stroke him until he was hard. When you place the wand to the tip of his cock, he whimpers.

You flick the toy on, as soon as it turns on he cums. You don’t turn it off, even as his orgasm fades he’s trembling with the toy on. He feels like he can’t stop cuming!

It hurts, but feels so good, he can’t believe…his Lord, His Master is giving him such amazing pleasure! He doesn’t know what he did to deserve it, but…he’s not sure he can handle it!

“P-please my Lord!!” Gabriel whimpers out, he’s desperately holding onto you, he’s kissing your neck, trembling and crying as his all six of his wings spasm behind him, flapping unevenly and nod nearly strong enough to lift either of you up.

“Shhhh….it’s ok.” You shush him. “I’m going to turn it to the next level, ok? This is the first level, there’s six more to go, ok?”

Gabriel trembles and hides his face. “I-I don’t know if can handle all of t-them!” He whimpers out. He hugs you like he’ll fall all the way to Hell if he lets go. “I-I’ll do anything for you…”

He bites his lip trying to ensure the vibrations. It hurts….but it feels amazing! He has to do this! He has to prove to you he can do this! H-he owes you everything!

-

[ineffectualdemon]

Separating Art from the Artist doesn't mean "I'm going to ignore everything this person has ever done in their life and pretend they are a pure good person"

It means when evaluating the work on its technical and artistic merits, you need to separate from your opinion of the artist as a person (good or bad) from the actual work

It's an exercise in looking past your bias both negative "this person kicked a puppy!" And positive "this person saved a puppy!"

It's about not rating art down just because the artist is someone you dislike but also not rating up art just because you like the artist

It's also one part in the process in dealing with art critically

Let's say an artist painted flowers

He also is a serial cheater

His cheating has nothing to do with how well he painted those flowers on a technical level

You can call the painting well done with good use of colour and light and it's not endorsing his cheating

Similarly if someone who is well known as the nicest guy in the world creates a dog shit painting to be judged, then judging it on artistic merits and finding it lacking is not attacking their character

Because the truth is bad people can make good art and it's fine to find the work objectively good and appreciate it for what it is separate from the artist on a technical and artistic level

Now there is a point when you're going to have to take into account the person who made it but that's a different step in critical analysis. That also doesn't mean you have to throw out their work and never touch it again

It means engaging with it critically

I have said it before but a series of books that was important to me as a child I read again after finding out some really horrible stuff the author (David Endings) did to his adopted children (who luckily were taken off him and he and his wife were banned from having children)

And I read it critically. I could see why I enjoyed it. The dialogue was witty and fun. The political intrigue was intriguing. The battle scenes were exciting and descriptive .

It was well written. That is separating the art from the artist. The books were well written and entertaining. I can say that honestly

HOWEVER I hadn't read these books in a very long time and I was reading them critically. And yeah how he wrote children was... uncomfortable. It wasn't full on but there are parts that I brushed off as being set in fantasy medieval time period as "what parents might have done" when I was a kid. But as an adult with more education it was...not great.

But that's not what I noticed the most. What I noticed more was the racism, particularly against Asians, and rampant antisemitism in the books. It was so in your face I was surprised I didn't really notice it as a kid. And to be honest I couldn't even get to the end of the series I was reading because it was so intensely racist.

I probably won't read them again because it was so full on racist.

Saying that I have also read Sherlock Holmes critically. They are again well written. They also have racist storylines and characters pop up. I still can, and do, read them. What makes it different? Well the time period when it was written makes a difference. I expect a book written in in the late 1800s by a well off white man to be racist. Also it is considerably less racist then Eddings. With Sherlock Holmes stories a racist bit will pop up occasionally and I will go "ah. Racism. Duly noted"

With Eddings it was racism stacked on racism with added racism and a sprinkling of child abuse for added flavour

Bad people make good art

Sometimes the shit they did that means they aren't a great person has nothing to do with their art.

Like a guy who cheats but also draws sick ass dragons

Those aren't related. You don't have to be faithful to draw a sick ass dragon.

And sometimes it does.

Like a guy who cheats who built his entire career about how much he loves monogamy and being faithful and has that as major themes in his work. His actions will have a major affect on how his work is seen

But also if you own idk a painting by that person that you got for your wedding to symbolise you and your spouses devotion to each other. You can still see it that way if you want to. Because it has meaning to you separate from the artist who made it.

I think you have to accept that sometimes things you love are made by people you don't like. Don't put creators and artists on pedestals and don't tie the emotions that their creations gave you to them being "good"

[seelestia]

— 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋, 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄?

SUMMARY. in which you decide to do their eye makeup for them and the many antics that come with it.

CHARACTERS. zhongli, alhaitham, xiao, wanderer, gorou, itto.

GENRE. fluff, slight crack, established relationship.

CW. close proximity, one use of pet name, zhongli sorta acts like a cat, alhaitham is a lil insufferable but you love him, wanderer is also an inch away from choking you (affectionately).

THOUGHTS. question: is their eye makeup waterproof or do they apply it every morning?? fascinating. p/s: happy birthday to @zhongrin! lots of love to one of the best people i've ever met on this site <3

✰ masterlist.

© written by @seelestia. do not copy, translate, repost to other sites nor claim as yours!

— ZHONGLI.

❝Apologies, dear. Is this distance acceptable?❞

ZHONGLI smells of rich cologne and the vapor of tea brews wafting through the air when you step into a teahouse. You know this, of course, you've buried yourself in his embrace countless times before — but to have your face so close to his like this, you've never felt an urge to look away quite this strong before.

You stay composed, however, Zhongli can't always be the only one with the cool composure in this household, after all. "Mhm, perfect," you nod with a quiet hum as he closes his eyes, settling his chin in your palm so snugly that you laugh.

"You're like a cat," you remark, trying to suppress the littlest impulse to bump your forehead onto his in an affectionate way. "Is that so?" Gentle eyes that resemble amber gemstones flutter open to meet yours.

(Almost, were you accidentally about to poke his eye out of sheer panic from his beauty. Almost.)

"I'm glad to know that comparing me to felines seems to bring you amusement," Zhongli brushes his hand against your hair, "But let us focus on the task at hand, my love."

"Lest we miss our reservation at Liuli Pavilion. It is most polite to be punctual," he reminds you. How mean of him; to say such things and expect you to fully register it when he is softly rubbing your cheek like this as if lulling you to sleep.

Seriously, the amount of self-control you have to muster spontaneously in order to fight off the need to lean further into his hand is indescribable. Who's supposed to be the feline again? Anyway. "Okay, okay, I won't dawdle anymore," you adjust his chin in your hold as your other works to bring up the eyeliner to his eye.

"My husband has to look his best, after all," you slip in a little joke."Of course, darling," but Zhongli's answer doesn't sound like he's kidding at all.

(How can he say that with such a straight face? This man, seriously.)

— ALHAITHAM.

❝You're actually concentrating, I'm impressed.❞

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?" you scrunch your face, frowning at how his words are jabbing at your pride. Has he not realized the power you have in your hands right now? You could actually poke his eyes with the eyeliner you're holding if you want to — not like you would, but Alhaitham is making it a smidgen harder to resist.

"I can focus, alright?" Huffing, you put aside your trivial grudges to grab his chin softly with your other hand. Alhaitham relents with an entertained smile, "All those times you fall asleep every time I read to you says otherwise."

"Well, that's— that's different," you stammer. In your defense, most of the books he chose to read to you are either theoretical physics or philosophies; it's a wonder how you're lulled to sleep even though it isn't a storybook. Of course, Alhaitham's library is a range of wide genres but you're starting to think he picks those books solely for you.

You're pulled out of your train of thoughts when you put in some distance to view your finished artwork. With Alhaitham's face as the canvas, somewhat comically.

(Well, aren't his eyes pretty? They look even sharper when accented with the eyeliner... whether that be for better or for worse. You shake your head internally at any poor person who happens to test his patience later today.)

"Wow," you mumble dazedly, "Red eyeliner really suits you." He raises an eyebrow at the genuineness in your quiet voice but only lifts his face away from your hand in response. Alhaitham regards your efforts in the mirror beside the two of you with a hum, "Maybe we should make this a routine, then."

There is a little something oddly hidden behind his sentence. Accusingly, you voice your suspicion by squinting your eyes at the Scribe, "...You just don't wanna do it yourself, do you?" And he enables it without a doubt, "Feel free to speculate."

(Ugh, this man.)

"But regardless..." he crosses his arms against his chest with a nod, "It doesn't look so bad."

(Would it have killed him from the inside out to say a compliment with a positive connotation? Okay, whatever, you love him.)

— XIAO.

❝....❞

Silent, quiet, and frozen in place like a statue.

The mere presence of those traits are more than enough reasons to have you worrying whether or not XIAO is still breathing. He is, thankfully, you can confirm that from the close proximity between the two of you and you mentally let out a sigh of relief.

(Thank the Archons you didn't lean in any further lest you would've heard how terribly his poor heart is faring and he doesn't want that.)

There is one more problem, however.

"You don't have to close your eyes that hard, you know..." you try to start, but Xiao still doesn't falter one bit; "It is of utmost necessity," he insists for the nth time since you've lost count.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

(Talk about stubborn.)

Your question is coming from a place of genuine concern because the frown on his forehead looks like it's going to engrave itself there forever from how intensely he is closing his eyes... Doesn't that hurt? You resist the urge to soothe away that frown with your thumb.

It's a good thing that it's only the two of you here right now, though. A stranger would be scared to death if they were to be gazed at with such an intense look and from the Conqueror of Demons at that. Oh, whatever will happen to your efforts of trying to prove to the children at Liyue Harbor that Xiao is actually a softie? Gee.

(But still, you can't help but smile.)

"Utmost necessity, huh?" you echo back his words with a hum. Your intentions bear no mockery but it seems the adeptus still manages to find some sort of dissatisfaction in your reaction. "Do not smile at me like that," Xiao mutters within a choked exhale that only serves to make him come off less stern than he would've liked.

His eyes are still, very much, closed as far as you can see.

The irony of it all tickles a chuckle out of you, mirth glazed over your eyes. "Is this an Adepti art I'm not aware of or are you secretly looking at me even with your eyes closed?" you ask cheekily. Xiao's cheeks are but a mere inch away from bursting into flames and he can only use words as his defense.

"...There is no need for you to know," he huffs.

Well, he isn't denying it, that's for sure.

(The answer is intuition.)

— WANDERER.

❝...Are you done yet? Any more second of this torture and I might just perish from boredom.❞

You're doing his makeup for him and this is the kind of treatment you get? You would've faked a gasp if you weren't so busy holding in a laugh over how his body is betraying his speech. That flustered look on WANDERER's face isn't helping his case at all.

"Uh-huh," your drawled out reply is enough of an indication to show that you're not really taking his words (threats?) seriously. Wanderer's bark can be as harsh as his bite, but you've never minded all the barks he sends your way — so much so that you barely even spare him any eye contact in favor of perfecting the red shade you're trying to blend around his eyelids.

(Perfection requires concentration, they say.)

But that doesn't mean you can't see anything else, though. You're uncertain if the Wanderer realizes this or somehow forgets because you can, in fact, see from your peripheral vision — and from said peripheral angle, he seems to be looking at something of yours rather intensely.

"You're staring at my lips," you point out.

"Shut it," he grumbles out his defense as fast as lightning.

(Caught him red-handed.)

"Sorry," you chuckle teasingly, "If you want a kiss, you're gonna have to wait for a bit." The way he looks so undeniably irritated by your statement makes you have no other option but to burst into a mini chuckling fit.

"Ugh, it's not like you can't lean in closer to—" His mouth snaps to a stop once it dawns on him; that your words are an attempt at reading his mind and he is technically confirming it to your face.

"Actually, nevermind, whatever. Just get this over and done with," he averts his eyes quickly with a scowl that feels as harmless as a naby deer (to you, anyway). "Giving up already?" you raise an eyebrow jokingly. With how Wanderer closes his eyes with a sigh, you assume he is only mere seconds away from giving your forehead a good flick.

"Don't think you're completely off the hook," he sternly interjects with a huff, "You still owe me some kind of compensation for taking your sweet time with this."

"And will that compensation be in the form of a kiss, per chance?" you hum amusedly.

"...It better be," he closes his eyes as if to signify the end of his willingness to comment any further.

Wanderer has never been one to shy away from the truth, but that is only because its taste always turns out bitter. Yet, in this case, when the truth entails something as embarrassingly sweet as desiring a kiss from you, then it becomes a conundrum for him.

After all, he is not fond of sweet things but he is fond of you. Maybe, this close proximity is getting to his head a little too much for his liking — darn it, he knew this was a bad idea the moment you showed him those puppy eyes.

— GOROU.

❝This is... embarrassing...❞

GOROU looks like he is merely a hair's breadth away from digging a hole into the ground and burrowing in it forever. But thankfully, the only thing keeping him on the surface happens to be you, the person holding him still by the cheek.

"There is nothing to be embarrassed about," you squish his cheek gently and Gorou lets out a noise akin to a little whine. "What if one of the soldiers sees us?" he protests, yet makes no actual initiative to remove himself from your grasp.

"Let them," you tap the eyeliner pen against his forehead two times and he winces dramatically as if you just struck him over the head. "Ouch!" Gorou rubs the sore spot instinctively and you can feel a faint trickle of guilt (even though you only hit him with the amount of strength someone would need to blow a dandelion), yet that is still not enough to the little lecture you're about to give him.

"Being the General of the Resistance doesn't mean you have to do everything yourself. It's okay to rely on someone to do something for you once in a while, you know."

"Even something as small as letting them do your eye makeup for you," you huff with a proud smile as an emphasis, carefully tracing a line on the outer part above his eyes.

"...Mmpf," the muffled noise that comes out of his mouth has you raising an eyebrow. Although unsure if it's because of that pout on his lips or his puffed cheeks, you still let out a little laugh at the thought of said possibilities anyway.

"Pfft, what's that sound?" you tease, "Does that mean you agree with me or not?"

"[Y/N]," Gorou calls your name in a stern tone or at least, tries to.

(He has never been good at scolding people but he swears if you keep on teasing him, he'll actually explode. ...And by that, he means melting into a puddle of jelly on the ground.)

— ITTO.

❝You gotta make em' look super dope, alright? Make sure you put more highlights on this one! And oh, this one right here too!❞

No one really knows whether the tattoos on ITTO's skin are actually real or not. Knowing he is someone of Oni blood doesn't narrow down the answer any further but if you were to ask him about them yourself, Itto prefers to call them "100% natural, baby!".

Not to mention, he is always looking for ways to make them stand out or look cooler — which led to this grand idea of asking you to do his makeup for him because apparently, your touch is magical since you're his favorite person on this emtire planet (his words, not yours).

...He can come up with the most random things to say sometimes. But hey, seeing a grown Oni beg on his knees sure was something and you didn't have the heart to say no to him.

"Sooooo," Itto starts with an attempt to clear his throat professionally, "How does it feel like having the honor to prepare me for my next battle?" he accentuates his sentence with a series of haughty laughter that cause his shoulders to shake vigorously.

"Don't move," you scrunch your face with a frown, pinching him indignantly for nearly breaking your focus. "Yikes! Sorry, sorry, I'll stay still!" the Oni yelps, a noise so embarrassing he almost cups his mouth like second nature.

But he doesn't do that, in fear of being pinched by your lovely fingers and proceeds to look at you with eyes befitting that of a kicked puppy's. "...You'll come and cheer for me, right?" Itto asks pleadingly and you smile.

"Of course," you say and he has to resist the urge to do a full-on fist bump into the air. But you still have some more left to say as you continue, "Just don't cry if you lose, alright? You'll ruin the makeup and besides...." There is a devious grin resting on your face now, "You don't want the kids to think your face makeup look like tear marks, don't you?"

Yup, there comes that offended gasp you've been waiting for.

"What— heck no!" Itto places a hand on his chest dramatically, "Tear marks?! Preposterous! The Arataki Itto doesn't shed tears! Of course not!" You can only hide your giggles behind your palm while Itto struggles to defend his wounded pride.

"...Forrealthough, doesitactuallylookliketearmarks—"

Now, you've got him second-guessing himself (but at least, he's cute?).

─ ⊹ ⊱ ・・・・・・☆・・・・・・・⊰ ⊹ ─

© SEELESTIA, may 2023. do not repost, plagiarize, translate nor claim as your own.

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[mistress-of-vos]

I'd make a longer post (and maybe one day I will) but since Lore Olympus, the story that introduced me to webtoons is coming to an end I'd like to say something:

I can't believe it is considered problematic. It has to be one of the sweetest, fluffiest, simplest stories I have read (hence why I still like it, it's a relaxing read before bed) and somehow it got too "kinky" for mainstream. It's laughable.

Everytime I dare to click on their tag or look for the # on Twitter or FB I see people clutching their pearls as if Lore Olympus were brainwashing teenagers into marrying a non existent God of the dead and have babies with him. What the hell?

The fact that people think LO is too dark makes me laugh. A single episode of Rick&Morty, BoJack Horseman or HQS has way more explicit content and dialogue. In fact!!! If it were up to me LO would have gotten genuinely kinky!!! All it does is have some surface spicy tropes that get sugar coated to not make puritans awkward and tbh that's sad. LO and the author get terribly hated anyway for daring to portray the most common female fantasy.

And this all makes me laugh but also mad because you'd think LO at least has some genuine dark themes but no? At most we have Persephone's trauma due to Apollo's abuse and yet that topic is treated as a therapy pamphlet because people couldn't handle an imperfect victim. Hades is a wife guy who shows little to no anger. Hera was re written to be sort of a feminist so that people stopped being annoying about women having emotions.

LO is a sweet, simple story with tiny spicy things here and there that were eventually pushed aside because people couldn't handle it. I wonder how Rachel feels about this, because at the beginning the story was extremely spicy and the only crime was being published in a platform as webtoon, full of people who can't differentiate reality from fiction.

Is LO a masterpiece? Idk! I enjoy the story, it's very self indulgent for me, but I won't go and analyze every detail to see how it should be labeled as it's not meant to be a perfect media. It's meant to be an entertaining, nice story of romance and it does that job very well. This need to demand perfect writing while also crucifying authors over "dark" themes is ridiculous and contradictory.

And I keep wondering, if these people loathe LO so much, why dedicate all that time to the infinte posts they make about how they would have told the story? And all those re tellings are boring! It's always "So Persephone and Hades won't ever kiss here because she's a lesbian. Also he doesn't appear at all. And Demeter isn't an abusive mom! Oh and everyone is ugly because gods shouldn't be beautiful! And Apollo isn't evil he's uwu baby. And no toxic relationships here, Zeus is a good husband!"

Sweet Gaia, you guys wouldn't handle Saint Seiya having Athena in the body of a teenage girl with big tits and who's constantly in the edge of breaking her virginity vows. This attitude screams of jealousy and puritanism and both are disgusting.

TLDR: LO being too problematic for people is both funny and annoying. I wished it actually were as kinky and dark as people insist it is. I'd pay for a toxic romance, but that being said, I LOVE it very much as it is and it's nice to have a re telling that, while not pretending to be loyal to mythology, didn't go for a route of sanitizing all the myths. I hope that once it ends haters will move on and let real fans and the author alone. 🙏

[bsdawgz]

「 ✦ Let the Light In ✦ 」 Bungo Stray Dogs, Port Mafia: Osamu Dazai

a/n: haven't written in a while! i was going thru a lot of personal things (homeless T_T) but i'm a lot better now + now housed. ;3 i wanna thank everyone who supported me, my lovely moots, my followers, my anons, you are so lovely!!! i feel so loved!!! if you are new, welcome welcome!!! this wasn't so well proofread and i'm getting back into writing again so plz excuse me, but i hope u like it!!!

content warning: f!reader, MDNI! dazai-typical ruminations on tw!depression and tw!suicide, nothing in depth. angsty because the characters are using each other. contains some smut.

summary: Everyone who knows of Dazai or knows of him, knows that he is an empty shell of a man, and that any woman he sleeps with is a mere distraction. What those people don't know is that, like Dazai, you are just as desperate for a distraction or a relief from the cruel tribulations of life.

Some nights, there are no need for words.

Words feel empty, just as hollow as his bones as he stalks toward you from the shadows of the doorway like a stray cat. There's a slight scent of whiskey that lingers on Dazai's coat, mixed in with his cologne. Frail arms reach for your waist lithely. You feel his forehead press lowly to the crown of your head, his warmth swallowing you at once, though his fingers are cold to the touch. No need for words tonight – some nights, there are simply no needs for words.

Dazai comes and goes, his attention frivolous. There is not much that you can do about it, and you haven't brought it up to him, either. Everyone who knows of Dazai or knows of him, knows that he is an empty shell of a man, and that any woman he sleeps with is a mere distraction. The only woman he truly is courting is death – you are a fool to entertain his advances, they say.

What those people don't know is that, like Dazai, you are just as desperate for a distraction or a relief from the cruel tribulations of life. Perhaps the only person who understands this is Dazai himself.

Where there is a void, you offer one another a temporary fix. When words fail, your bodies speak. For a night, your aches and pains can dissipate into unspeakable pleasure. It's a language you both understand all too well.

As you turn to face him now, to look at him, he grips you tighter. His slender, delicate fingers wrap firmly around the cotton fabric of your blouse. It's as if to tell you not to look – not to see him in this weakened, pathetic state. You know better than to fight him. Instead, you let him hold you in place. You resign to his touch, bandages unraveling from his skin and falling from his wrists. He buries his nose into your neck.

Ah –

He's kissing you now.

Your lips part in a subtle gasp as he sweeps his tongue against your skin. His brown bangs fall against your skin, tickling your shoulder as he pulls you fast against his chest. You feel the soft, warmth of his tongue as he swipes it along your neck; its gentle caress. Then, his fingers are reaching under your blouse – you tingle as he grabs you, as he squeezes you. His demeanor is mild, yet his hands are so desperate. It's as if to beg, "Heal me. Take this morbid pain away."

You will.

You'll take what you can.

"Touch me," he whispers heatedly, guiding your hands to grope him through his pants. You feel him grow in your palm as he sighs, pulling you closer by your hips and pressing himself firmly against your hand. His voice is a needy plea that melts into your open mouth. He kisses you carefully, fingers grasping you by your chin as he caresses your cheek with the underside of his thumb. He's gentle tonight – he always is with you – and for no good reason. "I need it tonight. You need it too, right?" he breathes, lips brushing against your earlobe as he draws near.

You find yourself nodding, words dying on your tongue. You won't ask questions because those never fare well. Skillful fingers pop the buttons on your blouse, then he's dragging you by the wrist to your bedroom. It's routine now. He's a wisp, a ghost, in your hallway. You're floating in air as he guides you through the emptiness of your own dimly lit apartment. Then, he's undoing his own collared shirt and you're running your fingers up and down his bandaged chest.

"Take these off," you murmur, voice tender as he lays you down on the plush mattress, your clothes now a discarded pile on the floor. "Let me see you."

"No," he responds disdainfully, undoing his belt.

You hear the clink of metal as it falls to the floor. Then, he shuffles through his pockets for a condom, and you watch him tear through the plastic wrapper. He crawls on top of you, a shadow in the darkness of your room. You can hardly see him in the low light – only the apologetic look in his eyes as he parts your legs, kissing up and down the insides of your thighs like a lover.

But Dazai is not your lover.

Dazai will never be your lover.

You writhe as his lips caress you, softness brushing against the place you need him most. He rubs you through the cotton until your legs give, until you’re whimpering into your pillow, then you feel him pry your panties to the side.

You welcome him, the familiarity of it all, thighs falling apart as you feel his tongue trace your clit. He’s eager to touch you, to please you, to make you cum – and that’s just what he does. He eats you like a starved man, lapping you relentlessly in the silence of your room, the two of you surrounded by nothing but the sound of the electric fan humming from your window and your soft, stuttering gasps as he pins your hips down and brings you to climax.

Then, you unravel for him, body convulsing at his command. When you cum, you shut your eyes tight, clamping your mouth shut to hold back your noises. You kick, spasm, ball your hands into fists… Fingers reach impulsively to intertwine with his –

Meanwhile, Dazai’s eyes are focused on you completely, staring at you intently. You're a sight to behold when you cum – absolutely gorgeous. The opposite of death as you animate right before his very eyes. He leans in to kiss you, a sloppy sort of kiss, with his lips glistening with saliva and your arousal. Then, when he pulls away, his eyes are almost twinkling as he basks in your afterglow and his admiration.

"Osamu," you whisper, and your voice is as gentle as your fingertips as you stroke his cheek. The word is strange and unfamiliar to him. He almost wants to flinch, hearing it fall from your lips so effortlessly. You're one of the few to call him by his first name, and it still never feels right. And yet, when you press your forehead to his, there's a certain calmness he feels that settles the empty pit inside him. So, he nods and reaches for himself with a shaky breath, guiding his length inside of you as he shifts his weight on top of you – and it feels so intimate, looking into each other’s eyes so intimately. There’s something so human about it.

It feels so good to pretend like this.

“Say it again,” he murmurs, and he could swear his voice has a slight tremor as he draws closer, soft lips lingering on your neck as his hands graze your cheek. So you do – you say his name like a mantra, a quiet prayer on your tongue before he pulls away. Then, it’s no words again.

Nothing.

Just the sound of mingling breath and the bed creaking softly under your moving bodies –

And his hands, everywhere.

Fierce, desperate hands, hot all over your body – and yet his eyes remain cold, empty and distant. Holes of blackness staring past yours as he grabs you closer, pleading for you to fill the void that's threatening to swallow him whole.

Still, he takes you tenderly, unyieldingly.

‘Heal me. Take this morbid pain away.’

You stare back at him, let those sad eyes consume you, allow the darkness to pierce through your reflection as your hands tangle through his messy brown hair, as you lace your legs across his back and dig your fingernails into his spine.

No words –

Nothing but his ragged breath, quickening; your stifled moans, catching in your throat; and the mattress squeaking louder, bed frame thumping against the wall as he loses rhythm.

When it's over, you're back to naked bodies turned away from each other on the bed – strangers.

You get up to get a class of water when you feel the delicate ghost of his fingertips around your wrist.

Then, a hushed voice, hesitant and feeble. “Wait…” before a resigned, “Nevermind.”

No words tonight.

Words ruin everything – mislead and confuse.

Dazai is not your lover.

© BSDAWGZ Don’t steal or plaigarize cos that’s mean… and if you enjoyed the fic, please share! Remember, likes don’t share my work, reblogs do! ^^~ Beautiful dividers by @ v6que~!

[dreamofbetterthings]

"The things I can show you." Thomas Doherty x Reader

Prompt: “Oh, the things I can show you, little one.” Celebrity: Thomas Doherty/Walter Deville Movie: The Invitation Spoilers: None, this follows nothing from the movie. Summary: Filming for you and Thomas' new movie was a breeze… until he walked onto the set with fangs. Word Count: 4K

Warnings: 18+ choking kink, pet names (honey, sweetheart), biting kink, slight dubcon towards the beginning, dirty talk, slight impregnation kink?, begging, blood? I think that's all. If I miss any please let me know.

Minors DNI You are responsible for your own content consumption. I can tell you the post is not for minors, but if you choose not to listen, that is on you.

A/N I pulled this out of my head in the wee hours of the morning and could not lay back down until it was written and published. Reader is AFAB (assigned female at birth) I know my uploading schedule is shit. I am working on it. Also, chapter 3 of It's Been A Long, Long Time will be up soon. Until then, here's some slow-burn smut to keep ya nasties entertained. You're welcome.

You and Thomas spent nearly every day together on set. Even when he wasn't set to shoot anything that day, he was always hanging around the director to see every scene you filmed. The Invitation was a well-talked-about movie and based on what the folks on social media were saying, you were excited to let the world see the finished result. Thomas always managed to know when you would walk onto the set, and be the first person to speak to you.

"Good morning. I have a coffee for you." Thanking him, you took the coffee and all but chugged it. When you could hear his laughter, you pulled away from the cup.

"Oh come on. You act like you don't do the same thing when we've been filming all day." He puts his hands up in surrender and smiles.

"I won't deny that." Thomas grabs a script from a nearby table and flips through the sections of the script that are blocked in blue.

"Speaking of filming, most of the scenes look relatively quick for today. I think we're doing the last bit of scenes between the two of us and then we'll shift to the courtyard stuff after lunch." He shows you the script and before you can say anything, his name is being called into hair and makeup.

"And let the chaos ensue." He lets out a little chuckle.

"I wish you weren't right about that. I'll see you on the set?" Nodding your head you hear your own name being called. "Absolutely. Let's kill it today!" The two of you walk in your respective directions toward hair and makeup.

Run.

That was the only thing on your mind right now. Your feet hammered against the ground as you ran through the hallway. Your heart pounded against your chest, body aching. Your bag along with your phone was long gone as you ran for your life. Whoever that was, whatever it was that you were running away from, was not human. It looked like one, it sounded like one, but you knew better. An ominous growl came from behind and you could hear footsteps towards you.

You sprinted around the corner and took many twists and turns throughout the house, but every door you came to was somehow now locked, despite not being earlier. Running a few more feet down the hall you managed to find an unlocked door. You quickly ran into the room and silently closed the door before locking it.

It was another bedroom. The windows were barred and there were no other interconnecting rooms. You were screwed. The only places to hide were under the bed and in the closet. You decided against trying to fit your large dress under the bed and slipped into the surprisingly spacious closet. After what felt like an eternity of silence, there was a jiggle of the doorknob. A menacing laugh was heard on the other end of the door, before a large bang, and the door flew open.

Peering through the cracks of the doors, you saw him. You could see his shadow in the dimly lit room as he walked past your hiding spot and looked around. As he padded further into the room, you slid as far back as you could into the clothing, praying he wouldn’t know you were there. Through the thin slots of the closet door, you could see he was just standing there. Almost like he was thinking. Your eyes closed, and you silently hoped he would just go check somewhere else. That’s when you heard it.

"There you are."

Your eyes shot open. The door to the closet was pulled open, and he was staring directly into your soul. You quickly duck as he reaches out to grab you and somehow manage to make it to the other door. Just as your hand goes to turn the knob, a pair of hands reach around your waist, and you let out a scream you didn’t even know your voice was capable of creating. For a split second, you feel the wind around you, then the bed sheets violently connect with your back. You wished the mattress would just swallow you whole. Too afraid to look at the monster hovering above, you turn your face to the side. The creature finally speaks.

“Well, that took longer than expected. Had me thinking you’d actually make it out of here.”

“We had a deal.” There was nothing to hide how your voice trembled. The bed shook as he actually laughed.

“I don’t think you quite understood the rules of the game, honey. The rules were, if you managed to make it outside, I would let you go. But if you didn’t…” His hand finds its way around your throat and your shaking continues as he forces you to look at his face. The only thing catching your attention are the two abnormally sharp canines in his mouth. “Then you would stay here, with me.” He looks around the room and then back at you. “Last time I checked, you’re still in the house sweetheart.” He sees the tears running down your face and brushes them away with his other hand. “Don’t be so sad about it. Think of it this way. I try to be a man of my word. If you did find some magical way of making it outside, I would’ve let you go. No surprises, no tricks, nothing… but you didn’t. Do you know what that means?” His grip around your throat gets tighter and you feel a small amount of blood run as one of his claws scratches the side of your neck. He takes a deep inhale and groans. “That means we can have all the fun I had planned for you.”

Your eyes widen in fear and you want to move, but you can’t due to his grip around your throat. He turns your head to the side and you close your eyes. Not wanting to know what he’s going to do. Reaching down to your neck, he sticks his tongue out and licks up the bead of blood that gathered on your neck. Your entire body shakes. Moving his head, you can feel his fangs graze against your ear as he whispers. “Oh, the things I can show you, little one.”

“AND CUT!”

Thomas’ hand instantly leaves your throat and he takes your hands to pull you up so your back is against the headboard. “Are you alright? You were shaking really bad.” Not trusting your voice at the moment, you nod your head and laugh nervously. “Dude, you’re scary as fuck.” He laughs in response and wraps his arms around you in a hug. You do the same and the director, Oliver, comes over to the side of the bed visibly concerned. “Are you two okay?”

Looking over at Thomas, he gives you a smile and gives your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. You nod and smile. “Yeah, we’re good Oli.” He offers his hand and helps get the two of you out of the ridiculously large bed. As you straighten out your dress, Oliver speaks again. “I know we only did one take, but that was probably the best one we’ve gotten since filming started.” He turns and looks at you. “There was no point throughout the entire scene where I wasn’t genuinely scared for you. If the two of you keep this up, we might finish ahead of schedule.” The two of you thank him and walk over to his chair to watch the playback of the scene.

One of the assistants brings water for the two of you and you both thank her. Oliver plays the scene back from the beginning and instead of focusing on your own work, the second Thomas appears on the screen, and suddenly you feel the heat making its way through your body.

He looked really good.

And those fangs…

You could melt into the floor right about now. Oliver and Thomas are talking but you can’t manage to listen in on the conversation, let alone say anything. Your attention was on Thomas and how he managed to look attractive and terrifying at the same time. There were times when you swore the only reason he signed onto this film was because he liked being a bad guy. It was like he reveled in it, and he did it so well. Your eyes stay glued to the screen and you don’t notice Thomas watching how you respond to his presence.

You tossed your keys onto the counter of your hotel room, your shoes come off and you let yourself fall back on the bed. A loud sigh leaves your lips. There has never been a day that you wanted filming to end so badly. After a couple of seconds, you throw your phone on the charger and finally pull yourself up from the bed, grab your towel and clothes, and head for a much-needed shower. You quickly change and when the temperature is just right, you step in and immediately feel your shoulders relax.

As you wash your body off, you start to think to yourself, why were you so worked up today? After the first scene with Thomas, every slight brush of his hand against yours, or hand on your back sent a wave of heat throughout your body. Simple motions that are seemingly harmless in nature were reducing you to a trembling mess. Granted, you don't have a partner, so sexual frustration could definitely be the cause, but why now? You feel the heat spread to your core just at the thought. Shaking your head, you finish your shower and change into your shirt and underwear that you brought into the bathroom with you.

After drying your hair, the steam from your previous shower dissipates as you walk into the other room and you look around confused.

You could've sworn you kept the lights on.

Shaking your head, you cut on the soft light on your nightstand and reach for your phone.

Which was not on the charger where you left it.

Now you're starting to freak out.

Looking around the room, it seems like your phone is nowhere in sight. Almost like it disappeared. You check your bag, in case you didn't actually plug it in, but it's not there. Nothing in the clothes you wore that day, hell, you even checked your suitcase. Your phone is just gone. Going over to the hotel phone, you pick it up and try to dial your number, only to realize the phone cord is missing from the base. You stand there frustrated and a little scared for a couple of seconds before a voice snaps your head towards the front door.

"You didn't think I'd make it easy for you to call for help, did you?"

Slowly reaching for the heaviest thing closest to you, the shadow walks into the light and you let out a sigh of relief. "Jesus, Thomas. You can't sneak up on someone when they're fresh out of the shower!" Walking over to him, you ask. "So unless a crazed fan managed to break in, I'm assuming you have my phone?" He pulls something out of his pocket and you see the familiar case, indicating he did in fact, have it.

Flashing it in front of your face, you reach to grab your phone, but he leans away from you so you can't take it. "Yeah, I don't think you'll be needing it tonight." Giving him a "Really?" you go to get your phone and he pulls it away from your grasp once again. Letting out a frustrated huff, you put your hands on your hips. "Come on Thomas, give me my phone. I have to check my emails." You see him toss your device behind him, lucky that there was a couch sitting where it landed, and when he turns back to you, he speaks again. "Like I said. I don't think you'll be needing it tonight. After all, why would I make it easy for you to call for help?" Your eyebrows furrow, and you laugh, although slightly uncomfortable with how the air in the room seemed to shift. It felt, darker. Every bone in your body told you to leave. Turning around to look for a pair of pants, you mumble to yourself. "Alright, I did not plan on my night ending like this."

Turning around, you let out a scream and drop your sweatpants as a hand comes up and covers your mouth. He was standing so close you could feel his breath on your face. Looking Thomas in the eyes, they were dark, and you suddenly felt like you were no longer safe in his presence. "I don't think you quite understand the rules of the game honey." He stares into your eyes and the next thing you know, your feet are walking backward on their own until you are stopped by the edge of the bed. He remembers his hand is covering your mouth and speaks again. "The rules were, if you managed to make it outside, I would let you go. But if you didn’t…Then you would stay with me. Do you know what that means?” You struggle to get out a couple of muffled sounds when he brings his face closer to yours. “That means we can have all the fun I had planned for you.”

Your eyes widen as the lamp in the room shows his face fully, and that's when you see it.

He was in the outfit from the first scene you two filmed earlier that morning. You glance down at his mouth and you feel the heat pool at your legs.

He had the fangs in.

He leans his mouth down against your ear like he did earlier that day, and repeated the same line. “Oh, the things I can show you, little one.” Next thing you know you're being laid down on the bed, and the man you once knew as your friend was hovering over you. "What do you want with me?" Your voice was weak, and judging from the smile that never left his face, he was enjoying this. He was enjoying toying with you. He leans down and drags his tongue against your neck, earning a strained whine to leave your mouth. "I simply want what I've been waiting this whole time for…you. I've seen the way you look at me when you think nobody is watching. And it made me want to take you then and there, but no. I couldn't do it with so many people around. So, what better time than now? Your phone is off, the landline is disconnected, and as far as anybody coming to rescue you goes, they all think you're headed to sleep with the rest of the cast."

If there was any time to hate yourself for not wearing pants to bed, now was that time. Thomas moved your legs apart with his knee and ground his hips into you, showing you just how tight the bulge in his jeans had become. You let out a small gasp that he managed to catch, and he let out a smile. "Something tells me you're enjoying yourself more than I expected. I don't even think I'll have to compel you." His large hands lift up the bottom of your shirt, exposing your underwear, and you shiver as the cool night air exposes you in such an intimate place. He carefully pulls the thin fabric down and off your ankles with ease, and your body goes tense. He looks you in the eyes and asks the last question you thought could ever come out of his mouth.

"Do I have your permission honey?" You shift needily against the bed as you let out a small "Yes." That's the only approval he asks before his fingers gently reach down and feel the wetness between your folds and you sigh quietly. A groan leaves his lips. "Is all that for me baby? You like it when I touch you like this?" His slender fingers brush against your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through you, making you unknowingly moan. "There we go. You're such a good girl for me." He does it again, and again until he's rubbing gentle circles on your clit at an agonizingly slow pace. Your body relaxes into the bed as Thomas continues whispering into your ear. "That's is baby. Relax. It's just you and me. I want you to enjoy this."

He was taking his time with you, and to an outsider looking in, it was almost sweet. Not long after, the fear left your brain and was replaced with nothing but bliss. He must've been able to tell when your last fighting bit of sanity faded because he became more eager. "There's so much I want to do with you, honey. I want to taste you until you cum on my tongue. Wanna feel you clench around my cock as I ravish you." His hand on your clit sped up a little. "I wanna see the look on your face when you come undone because of me. At first, I didn't think you could take it. But I know you can. I know you can take all of me. I know you can handle everything I give you because you're such a good girl, and I know you wanna be good for me. Right baby?" Your small whimpers have progressed to moans as you stop fighting the sensation and start to welcome it.

Out of nowhere, the feeling is gone as he removes his fingers from your clit, but quickly replaced them when he lays down and licks through your folds. Your breathing was fast and heavy as his tongue went to work. The sensation builds when he slips two fingers into you and easily starts pumping them in and out. You were almost there, and he could tell. He moaned against your clit and gently grazed it with his fangs, and that was all it took before you exploded. You threw your head back against the bed as you came, and Thomas latched onto your clit sucking on it to prolong your orgasm for as long as he could.

He finally pulls his fingers out of you and licks them clean before standing up and discarding his clothes in an almost superhuman nature, before he's back to hovering over you. His lips attach to yours and you eagerly kiss him back, tasting yourself on his tongue. "If you taste that good, I can only imagine what you feel like." Looking down at him, your eyes get wide.

He's not abnormally huge, but definitely bigger than any man you've been with to date. He rubs his cock between your folds and you moan at the overstimulation, still coming down from your high. He rests his hand on the back of your head and looks you in the eyes. "You're going to take all of me, yeah?" You can only nod as you no longer trust your voice. He leans down and captures your mouth in a kiss again as he slowly pushes inside you.

He releases your mouth to let out a moan, and by god… this was the moment you realized you were in over your head. Every time you thought he was fully in, he would slide in more, and more. He finally bottoms out and you swear you're seeing stars. No, fuck that. You were seeing galaxies. He only gives you a few moments to adjust to his size before he pulls himself almost all the way out, and sinks back in. Your eyes roll to the back of your head.

The pace was brutally slow but felt wonderful. You couldn't pay attention to anything but how he felt, and it felt ungodly. He finds his own rhythm within a few thrusts and it was like you died and went to wherever the hell you were currently. He brings his other hand from around your waist and slides it down to your leg, wrapping it around his waist and allowing him to sink in just a little deeper, and you cry out.

A smile forms on his lips and he keeps his hand on your leg, refusing to let you not feel the full extent of what this angle could provide. Noticing your hands are gripping your bedsheets, he moves his hand from behind your head and takes your own to grab at his body. He thrusts into you again, and again, over and over, the new angle allowing him to drag his cock against just the right spot that drove you wild. Leaning down to rest his forehead against yours, he pants out. "Fuck, baby. It's like this sweet pussy of yours was made for me."

You could feel your second orgasm building and lord help you because you were so close. Thomas seemed to notice as well, your walls practically trying to suck him in completely. He speeds up his pace ever so slightly and that's when you feel the pressure of his hand going around your neck. He leans down and talks into your ear. "I can feel you're close honey. God. I'm going to put a fucking baby in you. Would you like that? You want me to cum inside this gorgeous little cunt, huh?" You moan and try to nod as your nails scratch up and down his arms and back. "Yes, yes Thomas, please!" He laughs a little at how you answered him. "Aw, yeah? You're so cock drunk you're begging me to cum inside your pretty pussy?" He makes you look at him as your eyes keep closing. "Beg for it again, and maybe, if you're good for me, I'll let you cum."

Your voice is nothing but whimpers and whines as you plead with your eyes. A chorus of "Please." leaves your mouth and that satisfies him to the point where he is kissing and sucking on the side of your neck. "I want you to cum, and I want you to let everybody in this hotel know whose cock is making you feel this good. Can you do that for me?" You just nod as you feel your orgasm teetering on the edge. He applies more pressure against your throat, and that's all it takes. As your climax begins, he sinks his teeth into your neck, and you let out a struggling moan from the sensation as you cum. The only name on your lips is his over and over, like a broken record. Thomas moans against your neck and he starts to tense, holding you as close to him as possible. He seats himself as far into you as he can, and the warm feeling of his cock shooting his cum inside you only prolongs your orgasm.

After the two of you finally come down from your respective highs, he turns the two of you on your side and lies there. Giving you a chance to intake some form of oxygen. You pant out a weak "Oh my god." and you feel the rumble from his body as he laughs. "I told you, adding the fangs would be a great idea." It takes every ounce of energy in your body to raise your arm and playfully hit him. "Shut up, that was God tier even if you didn't have them in." He laughs again and as he agrees, you ask, "Where the hell did all that dirty talk come from?" Thomas shrugs his shoulders and smiles. "A master of his craft never reveals his secrets." Playfully rolling your eyes, a yawn escapes your mouth.

Thomas pulls out of you and you sigh sadly at the loss of contact, only for him to pull the blanket over you and get up off the bed to grab your phones. You watch as he plugs them both into the wall and climbs back into bed before cutting the light off. Cuddling into his chest, your legs intertwine and you both lay there in comfortable silence, until a thought pops into your head, making you laugh a little. "What's so funny?" You think about the situation and explain.

"Had I known it would've taken you stealing my phone from me to get you to put the fangs in, I would've let you take it a long time ago." The two of you laugh and he asks, "Is that your way of telling me you want Mr. Deville to peek his head back in the bedroom again?" He realizes that at some point, he's going to have to tell you that the fangs aren't fake. But that thought leaves his mind as he feels himself getting hard again at your answer "As far as I'm concerned, he can come back anytime he wants." Thomas lets out an "Oh really?" before flipping the two of you so he's sitting between your legs again. "Because I think he's still hungry." A moan leaves your lips as Thomas sinks his cock back into you, and you mentally prepare for the terrible time you're going to have to try and get up in the morning.

[uniiiquehecrt]

I'm thinking in terms of actual real life experiences I've had when I say this, but I'd imagine part of what makes being a Thor enjoyer so frustrating in 2024/MCU's phase 4+ era is that... you're effectively not allowed to enjoy your favorite superhero.

I once had a conversation with a close friend of mine during a casual outing, and without going into very many details, this particular person is an enjoyer of Ragnarok, and enjoys Tailka's work overall. Now, I should say right off the bat: there is nothing wrong with these opinions. Everyone is entitled to like what they like and enjoy the work of creators just the same as other people are allowed to dislike them. For this particular post, I'm not here to get into fandom wars or "reasons why taika waititi is a terrible director" beef. I have other posts in line for that. But what I will say is that I already knew this about my friend, so it never surprised me when the topic of Thor came up that it would be a point of disagreement.

The issue I've found that continues to circle in the general space of "being a Thor fan" came when I expressed that I don't like Ragnarok, I do think Thor was funnier (and just better overall) before Ragnarok and therefore Taika's involvement, and quite frankly Taika had very little business taking on the mantle of director of a superhero franchise he has never liked or understood in his life just because he had mouths to feed. (There are other opportunities to fulfill that. And filmmakers know going into this industry that it's all gig-based and - if they're smart anyways - work around that.) I hadn't even gotten a chance to go through all of the reasons WHY I feel that way, of which I have had before compiled an organized list of about 16 talking points off the top of my head, so as far as that particular discussion goes... it didn't go anywhere. We were busy at the time.

But namely what I want to talk about is this:

The response I was given, in summary, was something along the lines of "well I think Thor was boring, and he wasn't my cup of tea, so I'm glad he changed."

But, you see, there's just ONE small issue with that: Thor isn't meant for everyone.

In fact, no character is meant for everyone. So why is it that Thor needs to change to be "for everyone" and be the MCU normies' "cup of tea" when no other character has to? Why does he need to lose his core identity (both as a character, as a franchise, you name it, it's been done) just because people like my friend don't understand him as well as Tony Stark or Spider-Man? And why should Thor fans have tow watch their favorite superhero get stripped down and turned into something completely divorced from the character, world and cast we were first involved with from the beginning?

Nobody at any point has been able to answer me that besides "well just because I didn't like Thor personally."

Iron Man won't appeal to everyone. Neither does Captain America, neither does Spider-Man, beloved as even Spidey is. They have their own quirks, their own villains, their own storylines... Every superhero has a core to them that their stories revolve around. He's from DC, but Superman, for instance, has the core of: love, justice and the American Way. Therefore, his stories revolve around challenging that core, and making Superman prove it. Steve Rogers/Captain America has a similar core. Justice, freedom and the American Way, is what I'd mostly boil his core down to. Thor's is "love" all around. I've written about that '(here)' in my post about his 2011 themes. Maybe it's different for other fans, but for me personally? I adore that about Thor. It's one of the many reasons I'm drawn to him over any other marvel Super besides Spider-Man. (not you tom holland ... yes you andrew garfield...)

So when I go to Thor for entertainment, I'm going to him above the other superheros because I want a story that revolves around HIS core and how Thor goes about reckoning with his challenges. I also go to MCU Thor specifically for his quiet, kind, regal nature. I come to him for his gravitas, his passion, his relationships with his cast of companions.

I go to him for high-sci-fi action/adventure, or for the "what if we took norse mythology and made it an alien superhero" route they took him in for the MCU. I go to Thor because he IS different from the rest of the Avengers... and that's the point.

So when someone says to me: "Well Thor wasn't for me so I'm glad he changed", or "Well I really liked Ragnarok because Thor kind of become more in line with the other Avengers"... they're fundamentally missing the point of why Thor has a fanbase at all.