#some sort of limbo or whatever

[wheezerbuster]

i'm living for this dad outfit they drew him in, like hello??? glyph pajamas with the bad girl coven shirt, how cute is THAT

[canisonicscrewyou]

I. Am still absolutely full of untapped energy that hasn't had any sort of good outlet today. And I really don't think I can do anything with it tonight. So I think I'm just going to vibrate in place about it and hope I don't go to bed at 3 AM because I can't shut my fucking brain off.

[acanthemp3]

best lor ive ever drawn while I was experimenting with halo styles plus two older ones i dont like as much

[weekdaygladers]

also i had the craziest nightmare last night so i’m kinda avoiding having to go to bed since i’ve been having flashbacks of it all day

[magicwordorchestra]

hrm.

[natlovesls2]

Home For The Holidays

Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader

*ੈ✩‧₊˚warnings: minimal swearing, no use of y/n, use of alcohol,

*ੈ✩‧₊˚word count: 1.3k

*ੈ✩‧₊˚summary: Charles refuses to let you spend another holiday alone

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙ ˚₊⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙ ˚₊⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙ ˚₊⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙ ˚₊⋆ ꙳•̩̩͙

As the season wrapped up you were left in this state of limbo, you felt useless, unsure of what to do with yourself. Sure, your work wasn’t really over, but it wasn’t like you’d be traveling almost every weekend like you'd grown accustomed to these past months. And with Christmas rapidly approaching the feeling of dread only grew. It wasn’t like you had the time to plan a trip back home to be with family, not with all the postseason content you had to plan and post. 

You held the camera up as you recorded the last video of Charles and Carlos before the break, smiling as they answered whatever questions needed to be answered. “All done,” you ended the recording, “Thank you for your cooperation this season, I know how annoying this stuff can be.”

“It's not a big deal, it's all part of our job,” Charles said with a polite smile, he had become a reliable friend during your time as the Ferrari social media manager. You had grown to truly trust one another. 

“Right, well, have a good break and happy holidays,” you waved to them as you walked away from the two of them, mumbling to yourself about work. 

“What are you doing for the holidays this year?” Charles asked as he caught up to you, slightly scaring you. 

“Jesus, you nearly gave me a fright.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” he pressed on, anticipating your almost obvious answer. It had been the same for all breaks in the years you had been working with Ferrari. 

“Staying home and working, I’ve got postseason stuff to finish up,” you sigh, running a hand over your face, “I didn’t have time to plan anything else.”

“You never do.”

“That's not true, I visited my parents during the summer break this year,” you defend yourself, knowing that he was right. It was no secret that you were a bit of a workaholic who struggled to have a good work-life balance. 

“I have a proposition for you,” he said bluntly. You raised an eyebrow at him, silently urging him to continue, a little frustrated with the fact that he was holding you up. “Why don’t you spend the holidays with me?”

“Charles,” you began to protest, letting out a sigh at his proposal. 

“Before you say no, just hear me out” Charles quickly cut you off, not allowing you to deny his proposal just yet. “You're planning on spending the holidays alone to work, right,” he did wait for your answer, “Why rot your days away in your apartment? Imagine: mountains and snow.”

You opened your mouth to speak but was quickly interrupted by charles. It was as if he could recognize the look of protest on your face. “You haven't even listened to my whole proposal yet!” he exclaimed, taking a deep breath before continuing, “ please, don't say no, I just don’t want you to spend another break alone. It's not good for you. I have a chalet in the alps, we can spend the days doing whatever you want– drinking hot chocolate, exploring the area… skiing– whatever you want,” he desperately tried to get you to agree. 

‘Fuck it’ you thought to yourself as you ponder the possible outcomes, “Sure.”

Charles smiled as you accepted his proposal, shaking your shoulder with excitement, “perfect, you're going to have the best time of your life. I’ll make sure of it.” 

˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ✧ ˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ✧ ˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

You’d been in the chalet for a few days and to say it was a bit awkward was an understatement. It was clear that Charles was attempting to make your experience pleasant but was failing to make some sort of connection, not that you were being of any help. 

The place was cozy and definitely had a holiday charm to it that kept you in an agreeable mood. There was a fireplace in the living room area that kept the temperature inside toasty despite the egregious amount of snow falling outside. A christmas tree sits in the corner, nicely decorated and lit with those warm lights that would remind anyone of their childhood. 

You'd spent the morning editing some of the videos you were supposed to upload during the break, only getting up from your spot on the living room floor to make a cup of coffee. The front door opened and you heard the noise of Charles stomping the snow off of his boots as he entered. He has been off skiing or something, you weren’t entirely sure– too wrapped up in your own work obsessed world to ask. Though you were certain he had spent the entire time trying to find something you could do together, desperately wanting to bridge the uncomfortable space between you. 

“Still working?” he asked, sitting on the couch next to your spot on the floor. You could feel his hesitance as he reached for the laptop and closed it, “You need a break, and I won’t allow you to argue. All you’ve done since we arrived has been work.”

You sighed, resting your head against the coffee table, “Alright.” 

Charles almost looked surprised at how easily you had given up, almost expecting you to put up some sort of resistance. Regardless, he seemed pleased with himself, glad to have gotten you to agree to take a small but needed break. “Good, come on, I'm going to make us some hot chocolate,” he said, nudging you so that you'd follow him to the kitchen

You get up, stretching your back and letting out a sigh as it cracks, “That actually sounds really good, I'm sorry for being such a horrible guest,” you apologize as you follow after him. 

He waved off your apology as you entered the kitchen, “You have nothing to apologize for; you’re not used to spending breaks with people, I get it.” Charles prepared two cups of hot chocolate, topping them off with marshmallows and candy canes, handing a mug to you, “Drink up,” he gestured to the mug in your hand, “It’ll warm you up.”

“You got anything strong I can put in here?”

Charles raised a brow at your question, a small smile forming on his face. “There's a bottle of rum in the cabinet somewhere,” he rummaged through the cabinet, pulling out the bottle, pouring a shot or two into both drinks. 

 You took a sip of your mug, sighing contentedly as the warm liquid passed down your throat. He smiled at you as the look of annoyance left your face, quickly being replaced by a look of peace. “This is the most relaxed I’ve ever seen you.”

“Yeah, well if you pass the bottle I’ll be even more relaxed.”

A few more drinks later and you were visibly more relaxed, the conversation between you flowing comfortably unlike it had the past few days. 

“Why’d you invite me to spend the break with you?” you asked, placing your drink on the counter. 

“I invited you because I actually really like you,” he drunkenly confesses, reaching out to fix a strand of your hair that had gone askew. 

“Yeah, but we can’t really do anything about it– not smart since we work together.”

Charles places his hands on your hips, pulling you closer, resting his forehead against yours, “We can pretend we can, even if it's just during the holidays,” he whispers, placing a quick kiss to your lips. 

“Maybe,” you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down into a kiss. 

The rest of your time in the chalet was devoted to exploring the ‘relationship’ that you knew would be short lived. The days blurred together as you spent hours sharing kisses and lounging in bed together. And when the holidays came to end you were forced back into the professional relationship you had before. Occasionally, you noticed a look of reminiscence in Charles' eyes as you filmed him but knew that nothing would ever come of it– at least not until the next holiday.

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙ ˚₊⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙ ˚₊⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙ ˚₊⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙ ˚₊⋆ ꙳•̩̩͙

read more: December Shorts

*ੈ✩‧₊˚note: so sorry this took me so long to upload, December has not been my month. That being said, I hope it was at least okay, and thank you for reading

[five-thousand-loaves-of-bread]

own 2 cents about cure autism

autism cure research, generally not coming from point of, those with it wanting to improve life this way. but more so—people around them believe it what they want it what they need it improve life, and, uncured autism seen as … difficult for people around them, expensive for government to provide services, take up resources in medical places, etc.

majority autistic people *in actually autistic community, who understand this topic, & can talk about their opinion* don’t want whole cure

there not-small-group of autistic people who cannot reliably tell you what they think about this, or in way that easily understood (can’t communicate, can’t understand, etc). they need be remembered in this conversation (& arguably centered… bc they gonna be more affected. see below)

having said that. there exist autistic people of all types who would want cure for own autism. out of those have seen myself, majority of them [high support needs / nonverbal or level 2/3 or diagnosed severe or significant symptoms of some sort] whose life extremely different from peers because of it (& like majority of their problem not caused by “society” & won’t disappear if society & capitalism not exist anymore). it how they feel about their own autism, n feel counterproductive in “educating” them about their own (clearly personal and upset) feeling about what they want do with own disorder, especially since they not funding cure research or whatever. but—

autism, developmental disability that start in childhood, famous for be the “be treated as can understand and make own decisions” and “have autonomy respected” and “not ever forced coerced do anything” and “not force abusive therapy to make them appear ‘normal’ ” disorder. (sarcasm) — don’t really believe we as society are at place where we would actually respect “only for people who want it. won’t force it on people who not want it”.

aka. if cure is post-natal, AKA happen after birth… they will directly or indirectly force cure on autistic people

force post-natal autism cure will disproportionately impact those who… higher support needs, diagnosed level 2/3, diagnosed moderate severe, diagnosed low functioning, diagnosed comorbid intellectual disability or global developmental delay, diagnosed comorbid genetic developmental disability, nonverbal… diagnosed children, in conservatorship, ward of state, in prison, generally not fully legally allowed have final say in decision making… visibly autistic, have/said to have severe behavioral issues, BIPOC especially Black people… (incomplete list)

which. not to say autistic people who not any of these won’t be affected at all. because will. but as a whole, people on that list as a collective group, will be more impacted, more coerced, more forced, even won’t be given choice, to take cure (maybe won’t even be told was given cure), over people not on that list as a whole.

am going emphasize that autism is developmental disorder that start in childhood & children get diagnosed with it & children legally not final say in make decision & children very easily talked into agreeing without full informed decision & those diagnosed as children more likely be [higher support needs / nonverbal / more significant symptoms] (EDIT: at time of diagnosis) because those most noticeable earliest + global developmental delay then catch up later on happens (to vastly simply it to a fault, quoting someone, “no shit they high support needs, they children.”)

can also see welfare slowly not covering uncured autistic people, insurance decrease / deny / make harder coverage for autism related services other than cure, schools & esp special education less support for autism, etc. general official resources for autism decreasing (which. not much to begin with even pre-cure), which again impact all autistic people but especially list above… oh and poor people. can also see stuck in limbo of “will not get support & welfare if uncured autistic, but no money to cure” because this shit will be expensive

when this much at stake (aka if there no resource for keep be autistic, n resources locked away only able get after cure), when big percentage of autistic people cannot reliably show informed consent in some way (cannot reliably communicate, cannot reliably show they understand, or literally not allowed have decision capacity legally, etc)… if an autistic person say yes they agree. actual willing yes? not coerced? not misled? not forced into it?

autism & autistic people (& by extension, care people they depend on) don’t have enough support to begin with. in this current reality without cure lol. can we focus on that too pour as much money in that too — let’s not talk autism’s inherent quality of life until you give all autistic people as much care as they need & for it be freely n easily available

don’t really think current science have enough tech & resource cure autism like this. autism is complex disorder with complex sources & hard to say if current what called “autism” based on behaviors & internal reported symptom not actually group of different disorders.

if cure pre-natal (e.g genetic identification & abortion. anti choice unkindly DNI) - see: down syndrome

however: finding genetic cause =/= cure. find genetic cause can easily lead to find cure research. but should be clear that they not equal to eachother, not automatic mean eachother.

um. missing many things probably

TL;DR. don’t think right now society at place where… have widespread enough, nuanced enough, critical enough, & enough awareness/acceptance/understanding of ALL autism (and disability as a whole).

enough support for autistic people for autism-related needs & general needs (financial, food, etc).

world where autistic people who can make own decisions about self actual able make own decision about self, & world where autistic people who genuinely can’t (for now or ever) actually protected from harm

and honestly don’t think we have enough scientific and medical advancement/knowledge/ability

etc

to actually make sure this won’t go haywire

.

idk if anyone can follow this

autism issue is disability justice is cross-movement justice. autism issue depends on liberation of so many groups of people (like welfare reform, prison reform) 👍

follow up

[mitskicain]

navi | m.list

. ⁺ . ✦ the doghouse — ken sato x reader

© mitskicain all rights reserved. the modification, translation, and plagiarism of my work is strictly prohibited.

synopsis: any guy could let a girl fuck him, but it takes a real man to be somebody’s bitch

content warning: graphic details of sex, p in v, unprotected sex, possible spit play, slight breeding kink, cowgirl, teasing, denial, marking, use of collar and leash, elements of BDSM

word count: 1.5k

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004: collared and leashed

Ken—whimpering, gasping, moaning under your grasp—flushed and hot all over. God, what a sight.

“That’s good, you’re so good for me,” you coo in his ear, eyeing the reflection of the both of you.

You were positioned behind him, arms stretched around him, stroking the base of his cock—agonizingly slow. You kept your grip light, barely allowing for any sort of hard friction between him and the skin of your palms, which kept him just about on the edge, but not being able to push himself through it.

He’s been on the edge for 45 minutes.

“You’re torturing me,” he says in between pants, trying to compose himself—still trying to compose yourself. You found his efforts adorable, trying to remain modest and shy despite him being completely undressed in front of your fully clothed self. He clung desperately to whatever little control he had, and you intended to strip himself of every single bit of it. It didn’t matter that he was likely some billionaire rich kid, successful athlete superstar whatever—tonight he was yours to do with as you pleased. He swore on it, begging for you to take him when he was kissing all up on our neck, the two of you writhing on the floor.

Now look at him: pathetic, begging; not even to cum. Just for you to tighten your grip, to go faster, anything to drag him out of the limbo you had kept him in for nearly an hour. Because you can edge and tease someone only for so long before the pleasure mixes in frustration, mixes into pain—the dull ache that reverberated throughout him, aching for release.

“Please,” he whines, “please, god.”

He tries, without fruition, to buck his hips up into your grip. You counter this by quickly wrapping your legs around his waist, forcefully parting his legs and keeping him from being able to thrust up. He whines again, frustration building—trying, again, but find it useless as you’re holding him down.

You smirk, entertained by his distress, and lick the side of his face. In this position, with his entire back pressed up against you, you could feel every breath he took, every twitch, every shiver. You relished in the feeling, being able to understand the complex mechanism of his body. Really, you wanted to be the best fuck of his life. You wanted to be unforgettable, burn yourself into his memory—because he had the audacity of reinserting himself into your life again, couldn't stand just being a one-night-stand, thought himself above it. So now you were going to fuck him, break him—such that he would never even dream of reaching this height of pleasure with anyone else but you. You felt a growing sense of possession, an ugly jealousy that began to bubble in the bit of your stomach. You retaliated silently by biting into the skin of his flesh.

Ken jolts at the feeling—a sudden, sharp pain that caused him to wince and once again buck up into your grasp. You let out a deep, throaty laugh into his skin, sending vibrations down his spine, feeling the goosebumps that rose on the back of his neck. He exhales in relief when you release your mouth off him, a few breathy moans escaping his lips as you lick at the tender flesh.

“You,” he mumbles, “you bit me.”

You chuckle.

“I did,” you say, leaning forward to look at his flustered expression, “you like it?”

He turns away, covering his face with his hands, and you laugh. He was adorable. That made you want to ruin him even more.

“Hey,” you beckon, turning his head to look at you, hand on his jaw. “Don’t hide from me, come here.”

You press your lips onto his—the first time you’ve done this—and regret for having held out on him for so long. He tasted like heaven. Like every single indulgence you’ve ever denied yourself. You hum into the kiss, sucking on his bottom lip, your tongue swiping against the entrance of his mouth before pulling away—a string of saliva connecting the two of you. You smile at his expression: eyes half lidded and glazed over with desire. How could you possibly not let him have what he wanted?

He lunges forward, capturing you in another kiss, this time all teeth and tongue. Hungry. Feral, even. He’s climbing on top of you, cock bobbing, precum beading on the tip. Your hands find them in his hair again, pulling his head back—another trail of spit.

“Stop,” you command, and you can almost hear him whine; see the frown that curls at the edges of his lips. You slip out from underneath him, his expression confused. He tries to stop you but just tumbles off the couch, crawling on the floor to reach for your ankle as you walk away from him.

“No! Please, I’m sorry,” he cries out, his cheek against the skin of your calves. “I’m sorry, don’t go, please. I’ll behave. I promise.”

You hum at the sight, enjoying the way he begged—writhed for you, the desperate look in his eyes—like he’d combust if you took your gaze off him. You promptly grabbed one of the new collars you had bought after Lassie chewed out her last one—black and sleek—and clipped it around his neck, much to his bewilderment at the accessory. You held the leash in your hand, waiting to see if he’d protest, and when he didn’t, you dragged him off to the bedroom with you, him trailing closely behind. You didn’t even ask him to crawl, he could’ve walked if he wanted, but he stayed on the floor, in fear that acting remotely human would provoke you even further.

His mouth was heaven. J as good for kissing as it was for burying into your cunt. As you laid there, thighs on his shoulders, spread for him as he licked you up with such fervor, an urgency, like he was trying to catch every drop of you before you melted away. You grind your hips against him, the crook of his nose practically perfect. Built for you, you’d say. When you tugged on the leash, pulling him towards you to kiss him again—you saw how the entire lower half of his face was practically soaked with your slickness. You could taste yourself on his lips when you pushed him back on the bed, climbing on top of him again.

He winced when you pushed him inside of you, completely bottoming out in the first thrust. When you lift your hips up, tightening your core so there’s a bit of resistance, and you hear him suck in another breath. You feel his hands grab roughly at your thighs, white knuckled and all, as he makes that pained expression again.

“What’s wrong, baby? You can tell me,” you whisper sweetly, watching him closely. “Too much?”

He nods his head, eyebrows furrowed and jaw clenched, trying to keep himself from moaning.

“Aw,” you coo, “too bad.”

You slam down into him, feeling the tip of him kiss your cervix. He gasps, and as you begin to rock your hips, riding him at a feverishly quick pace, he can’t control himself. He’s a flushed, writhing mess underneath you—holding on for dear life, whimpering to himself, whining. For a moment, you think you’re going too hard, so you slow your pace, but you find his hands on your waist and him buck up into you, chasing after his own pleasure. You could feel the way his slick covered cock thrusted in and out of you, lewd wet sounds and all, hitting your g-spot repeatedly. You throw your head back, drowning in ecstasy. God, how could you ever go back to other people after this?

When you sink your teeth into his neck again, you have devious intentions. One, yes, to hear his oh-so delicious moans, but two, because you wanted to mark him. You wanted to leave him a reminder of you when he looks at himself in the mirror tomorrow, something for the paparazzi and tabloids to pick up on during his games or interviews—a sign of your existence on his body, a memory of tonight, what you did to him, that he was yours.

“You feel so good baby,” you say, on the edge, “so good.”

Kenji just whines underneath you, bucking up into you faster. Your climax hits you like a home run, pulsing and fluttering around him, making a mess of his lap and your sheets. He follows closely after, hips stuttering as he spills into you, still thrusting, riding out his orgasm. Almost immediately, you feel his lips trail up the entirety of your arm, your neck, before finally crashing onto your lips. He kisses you like he’s grateful, all gentle and loving, and for a moment, you melt into his touch, arms locking around him. But being the good boy he was, he couldn't just leave you be—his cum and your arousal dripping out of your pussy. So he flips you over and laps at you again, cleaning you up, drawing another orgasm out of you, or two, or three—you wouldn’t know, you’ve lost count.

All you know is that Kenji’s the best fuck of your life. That nothing could ever possibly beat this. He traces letters on your clit, spelling out T-H-A-N-K-Y-O-U-T-H-A-N-K-Y-O-U.

He was spectacular—the greatest—and he deserved it. Every last bit of it.

prev | next

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author’s note: god 🙏 I see what you’ve done for others (the MC) I am once again asking for you to do the same for me (for me to be able to rail the fuck out of someone like this, or for someone to rail the fuck out of me like this) GOD PLEASEEE🛐🛐😫😫💥💥💥💥💥 the way that I was in disbelief when proofreading this 😭😭😭 I can’t believe I wrote all this like holy fuck the demons really possessed me 👹👹EITHERWAY I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOY 💥💥 THIS IS FOR ALL THE FREAKS OUT THERE 🫵🫵‼️‼️‼️YOU GUYS SEEMED TO LOVE MY FIRST SMUT SCENE SO IM PRESENTING YOU GUYS WITH ANOTHER RAAAHHHH🗣️🗣️🗣️🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

taglist: @luneariaa @moonjellyfishie @sweetcheeksbby-deactivated20240 @shittingonyourgrave @shauu @witcwitchy @fcklxnaa @despacito-uwu16 @mqshido @miffysoo @ybbayk @hore4ken @mochminnie @femmefqtqle @miratastic @lovingyeet @mythicalmo @yourfellowmarzipan @softdumplingposts @strayy-kidz

[youremyheaven]

Jupiter & Rahu Influence Among Popstars

When I look at pop-stars across industries, I have noticed them all often having the same planetary influence showing up one way or another (usually nakshatra's ruling planet but less often, rashi lord as well).

Now, lets look at what or who a "pop-star" is. The simplest definition is that "a pop-star is a highly successful singer of pop music". Some would say that being a pop-star is the pinnacle of fame. They are at the very top of the entertainment industry food chain.

Actors pretend to be other people for a living but a pop-star is one who has to pretend to be an exaggerated version of themselves for a living. Most pop-stars have an alter ego or stage persona that they project, sometimes these alter egos have different names, other times they don't.

If you think about it, being exalted to the status of a superstar, akin to a God or deity and being adored, worshipped and obsessed over by millions of people, for being "you" is a bit bizarre in itself. Actors spend months making movies and playing a character, someone singing and dancing on stage and "being" themselves sounds simpler even though, in truth, it is a much harder job. If your full time job was being an exaggerated version of you, you'd struggle immensely with your sense of self. Most people would have some kind of breakdown, being unable to distinguish between what is "really" them and what belongs to the persona.

I'm by no means suggesting that Jupiter influenced people are exempt from having an identity crisis. In fact, I would say its the opposite. I think due to the expansive and boundless nature of Jupiter, which has a tendency to exaggerate the effects of whatever it touches, most Jupiter natives kind of permanently live in a state of "in-between-ness" , this feeling of being stuck in limbo is reflected in how each Jupiter ruled nakshatra falls between two rashis, one air and another water.

Punarvasu- Gemini & Cancer

Vishaka- Libra & Scorpio

Purvabhadrapada- Aquarius & Pisces

These 2 elements are very different from one another, Air element is typically associated with the intellect and ideas, whereas the Water element is associated with emotions, spirituality, wisdom etc. So, Jupiter, the planet of luck and abundance, the "Guru" (teacher) is one that is "well rounded" in the sense that it is both practical as well as spiritual and emotional. This also insinuates that, in order to amass abundance and be fortunate in life, one has to have a mixture of opposite qualities and be "well rounded". Duality is an innate theme of Jupiter, and whilst many think of duality as having opposite qualities, its wiser to think of Jupiter as the union of opposites. Light and dark, good and evil, feminine and masculine, peace and violence, love and hatred, all co-exist together here. Due to the scholarly "Guru" nature of Jupiter, it becomes the duty of its native to rise above the lower manifestations of these energies and embody the principled nature of it. In this sense, its not just the "meeting" of good and evil but the triumph of good over evil.

I had already explored in a previous post about how having an alter ego/multiple identities is kind of a Jupiter thing. Most Jupiter influenced individuals majorly struggle with their identity simply because they feel like they're "all things" and this sort of commercial marketing of "aesthetics" and "niches" is very limiting. They're all things, all at once. This can be disorienting for others who struggle with their identity for other reasons (Nodals who struggle with over-attachment and detachment, Malefic gworls who don't have very many hobbies/interests/passions to base their personality off of). Its hard to explain what "being everything" is like to people who don't have a sense of self/reality to begin with, or those who have a very narrow or rigid understanding of themselves. We're familiar with Rahu mania but Jupiter mania often flies under the radar because they seem so put together on the outside, unlike Rahuvians who wear their madness on their sleeve.

Most people would have a tough time figuring out how a Jupiter native actually felt or if they were going through something in their personal life because they're usually stoic af and very well kept. Their world could be falling apart but they will never lose their etiquette or their manners. This can lead to scenarios where they're either not given adequate consideration for their suffering because they dont "look/seem" like they're going through it OR people tear them apart for seeming too "cold/nonchalant" even in the face of crisis. People like to see vulnerability because it makes others more humane and relatable and sometimes the stoicism of Jupiter natives can irk others because it makes them seem robotic or beyond human.

How does all of this tie into Jupiter being the most common planetary influence among pop-stars?

I had already mentioned that pop-stars are idolized for simply existing. Having the expansive energy of Jupiter helps one become a vessel for the projections of others. You can be anything or anyone to everyone. I have observed Jupiter influenced individuals code switching irl, in the sense that they have an entirely different personality depending on who they're interacting with and usually have several different friend groups that have nothing remotely in common with each other.

Many anons have mentioned dating Jupiter men who seem very sweet and giving and then being mindblown when they turn out to be insane party animals who smoke and drink till they drop and go batshit insane at the club. They seem too "goody two shoes"-y to be about that life, yet they are.

Being a performer/pop-star seems to suit Jupiter natives because it gives them an outlet to channel their manyyyy sides. Even their alter egos have alter egos and if they had to live normal lives, it would kinda drive them crazy unless they found some phenomenal ways to compartmentalize all that stuff. Not to rely on anecdotal evidence (I'll cite more "celebrity" examples after this) but there's a guy I know whose chart is heavily Jupiter influenced and he is the most responsible family man ever and provides for his whole family but he is also extremely passionate about weed, does not say no to a drink and LOVES to party. He lives in an apartment complex with a lot of people our age and mf is always at someone's house party 😭😭 I am in no way implying that these things CANNOT co-exist, that you can't both be a hardworking family guy who looks after everyone AND drown yourself in booze but typically the kind of person you associate with one kinda lifestyle is not who you associate with the other, if ykwim

There are many examples of these "contradictions"

Miley Cyrus, Vishaka Moon

She is known for her wild, freaky stage performances and her no-nonsense personality but beyond all that, Miley is a homebody who has a gazillion animals and lives a very "simple" (or simple, for a celebrity anyway) life.

Beyonce, Vishaka Moon

Beyond all her glamour, Bey is veryyyy lowkey and raises honeybees in her backyard and harvests her own honey. She's very spiritual and is all about her family and minding her own business. I know this isn't news to anyone but isn't it interesting how the biggest pop-star of our time, known for her fierce performances and larger than life persona, is actually a tradwife? A proper Southern lady, if you will.

Jennie, Vishaka Moon

In a recent interview, she said:

"Anyone who meets me will say I’m so far from what I represent as me onstage...it's a part of me , a switch inside of me that I can just click.”

(This is SOOO Jupiter coded of her)

Jennie's friend Deb Never described her as:

“She’s shy and really humble and very sweet,” she says. “And then as soon as it comes to music and how she performs, it’s this flip side, this opposite person where it’s like in your face and very outspoken. It’s not like she’s acting. It’s being able to let out a whole other side of you that you don’t get to in real life. There’s a vulnerability in that.”

I had mentioned a few times previously about how Jupiter and Rahu's energies can be veryyyy similar. Jupiter has more structure and can keep the mania and obsession under wraps a bit more than the average Rahuvian (Jupiter is a benefic, Rahu is a malefic, so the limitless energies are channelled in more "beneficial" ways by a Jupiterean and in less beneficial ways by a Rahuvian). Looking at the charts of entertainers who were/are highly successful, the Jupiter + Rahu influence recurring is crazyyyy.

Frank Sinatra is considered one of the earliest pop-stars. He is a Shatabhisha Moon.

Elvis Presley, Shatabhisha Moon

Aretha Franklin, Punarvasu Moon, Vishaka Rising

Billy Joel, Punarvasu Rising

Michael Jackson, Shatabhisha/Purvabhadrapada Moon

I am not trying to imply that people without Jupiter influence can't be pop-stars, they can!! But when they aren't Jupiter influenced, they're usually Nodal

Mariah Carey, Punarvasu Moon

Whitney Houston, Shatabhisha Rising

Celine Dion, Venus atmakaraka in Purvabhadrapada and Mercury amatyakaraka in Purvabhadrapada

Taylor Swift, Ardra Moon

Diana Ross, Vishaka Rising

Eric Clapton, Swati Moon

The shapeshifting ability of these natives is what allows them to flourish in an industry where you're essentially selling yourself as a product.

Adele, Ardra Rising

Lady Gaga, Swati Moon

Ariana Grande, Ardra Sun

Rihanna, Shatabhisha Sun

Dua Lipa, Ardra/Punarvasu Moon

Katy Perry, Swati Sun/Mercury/Rising and Vishaka Moon

Billie Eilish, Purvabhadrapada Rising

Shakira, Punarvasu Moon

Lana Del Rey, Ardra Sun, Vishaka Rising

Halsey, Punarvasu Moon & Mars, Vishaka stellium (Venus/Jup/Rahu) and Swati Mercury conjunct Rising

Janet Jackson, Ketu conjunct Rising in Vishaka

Lorde, Vishaka Sun & Mercury

Sabrina Carpenter, Purvabhadrapada Moon & Rising (she's also Bharani Sun and that's why she's an it girl)

Chappell Roan, Shatabhisha Sun/Jupiter/Ketu

Charli XcX- Ardra Rising

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Hellooo :D Could I request a villain who suddenly realizes that hero was once a terrifying supervillain? (Maybe a situation lead to the reveal or something? It's up to you!!) If my request doesn't tickle ur fancy then feel free to ignore <33

The other villain cocked their head.

"Change that uniform all you want," they said, grinning as they kept squeezing the hero's throat. "But it will never change what you are inside."

The other villain leaned in and put all the pressure they could come up with on the hero's windpipe, going as far as using their entire body weight to crush the hero's throat. Thus, tears ran down the hero's cheeks as they tried to force some oxygen back into their lungs.

They grabbed the other villain's wrists as they struggled but there was no mercy in the other villain's eyes, there was no escape. It wasn't even a fruitful attempt at defense.

It burnt, everything burnt. It was an indescribable pain, something so horrible that they gave up immediately. The hero wanted this to be over; they couldn't fight back.

It was true that the hero had regenerative abilities to some degree. But the other villain had also poisoned them earlier.

So, all in all, the hero's day wasn't going great.

"You will always be that disgusting piece of shit you've always been. It doesn't matter how many people you save. It doesn't matter what you do. You are rotten to the core and I can't wait to see you die." They smiled callously but the hero knew their lights were gonna go out in a few seconds. At least that meant they wouldn't have to see that horrible smile anymore. "Yeah, that's right. Look at me when you die."

Both of them heard the hero's throat crack.

The pain was completely out of this world and although the hero couldn't tell what exactly was broken, they knew it couldn't be good.

The hero wished it would be over soon.

They were about to pass out but then, suddenly, someone grabbed the other villain and yanked them across the floor. The hero couldn't move. They lay there and wheezed but nothing changed. The pain was still there and it felt like an endless limbo of violence.

It was hard to imagine that they could make it home today.

Breathing hurt. Survival hurt. Deep down, they wished the other villain would have just killed them.

They were right about everything anyway.

Whatever the hero tried to do, deep down they knew they were a horrible person. Old sins weren't any less significant. They knew it was foolish to try to make up for all the damage they had caused, for all the evil things they had done.

They had thought to escape all of this one day but it followed them around like an evil shadow. They didn't deny that they deserved it but they could also barely tell if their heart could take all of this.

They were trying so hard to be good. God, they were trying.

Although the hero's vision was horribly bad, they were able to recognize their nemesis eventually.

Their nemesis who was kneeling in front of them. Their nemesis who had just saved them.

"Silly hero," the villain said. They moved some hair out of the hero's vision and touched their bruised throat with their fingertips. The hero flinched but they couldn't say anything. "Come here."

They sat down on the floor of the empty warehouse and pulled the hero into their lap.

"Let me see..." With their index finger, the villain pushed up the hero's chin which was painful enough for the hero's body to twitch and produce some sort of desperate sound. "Shh..."

The hero didn't dare to try speaking. Their throat wasn't even remotely close to starting to heal. It would probably take hours.

"You are pretty bold for attacking them on your own," the villain said softly. They raked through the hero's hair with their long fingers, holding eye contact relentlessly. The hero couldn't really think. Was it true that they couldn't have defeated them? Or had they just given up because the other villain's words had been too cruel?

"I-"

"Shh. Don't speak," the villain said. They took off their cape and blanketed the hero. Gently, the villain traced the hero's injured throat repeatedly.

It didn't even matter to the hero that it hurt. They needed the touch, they needed skin on theirs with kind intentions. They would have let the villain push their fingers into an open wound of theirs if their sweet words had accompanied them.

"I would've never guessed that your past could be...so complicated."

The hero didn't know what they had anticipated. After all, they had lied to the villain, hadn't they? The villain was surely not happy about that.

"You're better than the rest of them. Living proof that people really can change and learn." The hero closed their eyes and pressed their cheek against the villain's torso. Although those words were nice to hear, they knew it wasn't true. Not really. The villain just tried to make them feel better. "But it was foolish of you to go up against the other villain. We both can be grateful that I have some information on them that shouldn't be available to the public. But you? You're not that desperate to save people, are you? So desperate that you will attack with no plan?"

The villain's fingertips stopped on the hero's clavicle and the hero took their hand, too tired to even think about a response.

"I guess, you not being able to answer me does have its perks. You can't protest when I say that you're good at this. Better than anyone I have ever met," the villain said. The hero didn't know why. They didn't know why the villain was doing any of this. Saving them, talking to them, touching them.

The hero didn't know how on earth they deserved this.

"Forgive your younger self," the villain whispered. "Or this will have to become a regular thing."

Again, they touched the hero's throat. It was still soft but their skin and muscles were still too sensitive. The hero tried to pull away and groaned but they also knew this was a warning.

It dawned on them. The villain was toying with them, even if it was playful, even if it was gentle. They were toying with them.

"Promise me you will work on this. You need to be able to take care of yourself. Unfortunately, I can't always be your knight in shining armor."

For whatever reason, the hero simply nodded. It didn’t matter what the villain had planned for them or if they wanted to use the hero. If they wanted to manipulate them and turn them into a weapon.

All of it didn’t matter right now. It didn’t matter. The hero closed their eyes and allowed themselves to rest for just a minute with their cheek against the villain’s body and their head on the villain’s thigh.

[lilacxquartz]

Those Late Summer Nights | Chapter 20

satoru gojo x f!reader x suguru geto

plot: moving to the city from a small town was no easy feat, especially to start teaching as a jujutsu sorcerer.

a/n: part 2, aka the continuation is now in process. warning for newcomers: this is a yandere story with dark (non-con, violence) themes. read on with caution. this story does not romanticise either concept.

masterlist • ao3 • chapter directory • < previous chapter • next chapter >

20. Promise

[3 months later]

You have never been one for goodbyes, but life as it had turned out, had already forced you to do so not once, but twice already.

The first time was voluntary; when you had left your sleepy hometown and the long-haunting corrupt influence far behind. It seemed like such a good decision back then, when you at long last, had obtained that prized referral to work at one of the country’s most prestigious Jujutsu institutions. It almost seemed too good to be true, and maybe that’s because it was, because, just like everything else in your life—all of the highs had to come down—inviting the lows to linger, to fester, to… rot.

The second time wasn’t by your own choice, however, but something far, far worse. If you were being honest, you couldn’t have made sense of your situation if you tried. Forced to flee from Tokyo following an obsession that went too far, the ever-lasting consequences of summer had consumed your life to the point where you were once again left a victim of an unrequited influence out of your control.

You’ve had plenty of time to think about just how exactly it all went wrong, too, and just for a while, you were happy to appoint the self-blame. In a twisted sense, you believed that it was your fault for trying to naively infiltrate a jaded world with such fresh hope. Maybe it was wrong of you to have dreamt of a better life; maybe you should never have tried with Jujutsu to begin with. Perhaps you should have taught the ordinary future generations of today because, it wasn’t like they didn’t matter, too. They were more responsible for future cursed energy than they even knew.

…But then again, how were you supposed to know that you were going to be so entangled between… them?

It wasn’t as though you set out to ruin your own life, after all. It was out of your control from the very second you let your guard down—from the moment that you placed your trust in the two people you shouldn’t have. That couldn’t have been on you, though. Surely not.

You did suppose, however, that in some sort of twisted sense, that your return to the city (albeit against your will) could have been considered a reunion of sorts when you were met with those chilling blue eyes once more. What was once a calm blue sea guiding the way now turned out to be a violent storm—its waves dragging you into the murky depths, anchoring you within it—but not quite letting you drown, at least not yet. You instead were trapped. Imprisoned in a floating limbo, forced to endure whatever… this… all was. It was humiliating, perhaps even insulting and you berated yourself mentally every single passing day for not fighting back against Satoru fucking Gojo when he confronted you back in Osaka, but then again, that same pressing question begged your rationality once more; how exactly were you ever supposed to go against someone like him to begin with?

Someone like him, who had the entire world of Jujutsu wrapped right around his finger.

As bleak as it all sounded, as harsh as the reality reigned true; you never had a chance to begin with, did you? Whether you ran away or stayed behind—it would have likely gone this way, because… after a summer of getting to know him, you of all people knew the truth (from learning it the hard way), that Satoru Gojo always got what he wanted.

You sighed as your eyes rolled back to glare at the fluorescent-lit ceiling, the pale flickering glow straining against your eyes. It was almost comedic with how dramatically it all came undone, like it was some sort of sick joke and you were the unsuspecting punchline right at the very end. Tokyo was supposed to be your fresh start away from the monotonous flow of small-town politics and its corrupt influence, so why on earth did it follow you here, too? You did everything right, after all, you studied hard and you persevered, you earned your place in the world, and just as it all finally began to fall into place… it unraveled. It was truly as though the string that you delicately wove through the passage of life was on its last thread, destined to snap from the moment it all connected.

(There was never a chance. There was always something in the way.)

You sat up, trying to avoid the light only to catch a flash of it reflected in the sleek black tiled floors. Closing your eyes in frustration, you tried to think back to the good times. You did suppose that the city was technically everything you had otherwise fantasised it to be; loud, noisy, and bustling with endless life. It was a far cry from the watchful and prying eyes of your quaint town. There was something… special about Tokyo because you were able to simply just… disappear, as one fleeting face of many, a living ghost blurring in and out of the crowd as you had pleased, free at last.

For it to have been taken away just from the introduction of three people, was almost hilarious. It was funny how that all worked. Just three people. Three.

Shoko, bless her heart, was your first real friend who guided you into the person that you desperately yearned to be. Someone both caring yet unrestricted from the confines of a sheltered former adolescence and then, guiding you into the further depths of it all, was… them.

Ah, Suguru Geto. If only you knew, huh? You laid back down with your head now slightly throbbing with a faint aura; the beginning of a migraine. These damned lights. So brooding and mysterious he was—it was a shame that he had to turn out the way that he did—a nightmare disguised as a dream. Was it your fault for admiring him from a distance initially? Did you somehow fall victim to some sort of manipulative act, when you found his calm, almost contemplative personality to be a comfort? His suffocating presence wasn’t something you could quite predict, after all, so possessive and longing, yet somehow subtly so. To have eluded the perceptive gaze of Shoko and even Satoru was almost impressive, but unsurprising because even he managed to fool you at times. Oh, how crazy he made you feel, even for just doubting him at all.

Then there was Satoru Gojo. Ah, Satoru, Satoru, Satoru… Oh, so ever loud and energetic, Satoru… Truth be told, you found him overwhelming at first, but there was a certain quality of his that drew you in. He was good at both carrying the conversation as well as involving you within it, making you feel special when the attention landed on you for just a second and dare you say, even… validated. Just like Suguru however, he couldn’t keep up the act for very long, though, even if he did crumble last. In some ways, he was the most volatile one out of both of them, because beyond that playful facade that he let on, was something else that bubbled and simmered beneath the surface. It was hard to tell at times, but it was certainly there.

Something that wasn’t quite calm, but maybe tender. Something that was… vulnerable and whatever it was, it made him dangerous to be around.

So in the end, if you had to truly reflect, then maybe it was all three of you that were at fault.

All three of you were that were victims of losing yourself in an attempt to look for something meaningful in that endless, unforgiving city. All three of you were subjected to the quickly fleeting addiction that you could never quite hold onto, of being both seen and understood. It was no wonder that you opened up too quickly and too soon, slipping on that pair of rose-tinted glasses longer than you should have. Maybe if you took them off when you had the chance, then you too, could have been yet another passing soul in and out of their lives, but you weren’t.

You got attached and so did they, and now, for a lack of better words, it wasn’t just your life that was ruined, but theirs too. All together, the three of you floated around in an unending, aimless drift, leaving Shoko to pick up the pieces (as usual).

The migraine faded and never thankfully developed, but you still grimaced at the light that flickered all the same. He was home, but not close just yet. All of those riches that lined his pockets and he couldn’t afford to screw in a better bulb for the lights or at least opt for something warmer and less clinical. You wanted to punch that light, to let it shatter and paint the room in a much-needed night, but you couldn’t. So instead, you were illuminated and exposed, plunged into the spotlight, forced to look at the pretty little cell he had confined you to.

Such continuous misery left you wondering if your life could have been… maybe… better if you followed Suguru. In a way, you missed his pretty lies because he at least tried to offer you comfort and see you for who you truly were, but he also hurt you, so you couldn’t forgive him. Twice. He hurt you twice and yet, your mind still drifted to him at times. Why? You couldn’t make sense of it—of him—of the very same man who despite forcing you to bury your past behind and move on—surely had an issue with never letting you go, with never letting anything that ever happened to you… go.

Did this therefore make Satoru better or worse? You didn’t even know anymore. They were both equal runner-ups for the worst human being, that much was for certain. Suguru may have been involved from the start, but he was nothing like Satoru, who was always watching right from the start, more closely than you, or anyone else had ever known. Those burning blue eyes so focused yet serene, locked on you in a way that almost felt invasive. If Suguru was the storm, then Satoru must have been the cataclysm itself.

Devastating. Consequential. Unforgiving.

Indeed, you were never free.

All of the hope, all of the dreams—everything else that fell in between—none of it was ever real.

The only thing that had ever remained consistent throughout this whole experience was the part where Satoru told you that he would never, ever let you go.

The lights above you were now starting to buzz and crackle, fading in and out with every muffled thud. He was approaching. Suddenly, you regretted spending so much time reflecting on the aftermath of your life yet again, knowing that you had spent yet another day moping around, thinking of them, of him… knowing fully well that you were never truly alone.

Satoru would reunite with you every night, on clockwork, never late and always on time.

His voice was calm, always welcoming yet never inviting. You always found yourself flinching as he greeted you, wanting nothing more than to be left alone for the night. Just one night was all you asked him for—it was all you begged for at one point—for him to not talk to you, for him to not… touch you. A single night was all that you asked for, a break from having to play pretend.

“Ah, [name],” Satoru cooed, lowering an unwinding staircase that revealed a mocking glimpse of the room just above. A faint reminder of just how close the surface was, yet so inaccessible. The entrance operated on a motor, using some sort of secret code. There was a dial pad inside of the basement he kept you in as a failsafe just in case it locked him in, but try as you might to crack the code, you never guessed it right and every time you failed, it sent an alert to him. “You haven’t moved an inch from where I left you last! Didn’t I tell you about the importance of needing to stretch, even if it’s just for a minute or two a day?”

“Please just let me go,” you croaked out weakly, knowing that he wasn’t going to oblige, let alone even humour you.

Predictably ignoring your request, he walked over to you, setting down a plain white plastic bag right where you lay, strategically positioning it so that you could spot your favourite snacks and drinks poking out.

“It’s been a hell of a long day, you know,” he continued, adopting a softer tone that almost sounded hopeful, “did you miss me?”

You closed your eyes in an attempt to block him out. “You already know the answer to that one, don’t you?”

Satoru snorted a half-laugh, seeming annoyed but also amused. “You’ll have to admit it one day, [name],” he reminded, “the sooner you learn to… adapt, the sooner it’ll start to look up for you, and maybe, just maybe…” he trailed off, letting the beginning of a promise hang, “I’ll let you see your friends again, maybe I’d even let you see… him,” he paused as he said that last word, his composed demeanour ever so slightly faltering at the indirect mention of Suguru, “so, what do you say?”

You repeated the same answer you always did, “Never, Gojo,” you sighed, already expecting the worst as he took up the free seat next to you on the sofa, settling right where your head lay.

You felt a cold shocking jolt run through your body as his cold hands cupped your face, tilting your head up to meet with his longing yet intense stare. He would do such a thing on occasion, hoping that you would return even a hint of the way you once looked at Suguru before, and yet you didn’t. In your eyes, there was resentment but also, if he looked hard enough, fear.

“What have I told you about being so formal, huh?” he murmured, scoffing a little, “we’ve been over this, you’ll call me Satoru and we’re… we’re going to make this work,” he reminded you, trying to maintain his composure, “I’m not letting you go either way, so you’re going to have to drop that at some point, because like it or not, it’s not up to you how it all goes… it never has been.”

You blinked, unable to reply.

Satoru’s eyes softened for a moment, revealing a hint of internally conflicting vulnerability, maybe even traces of guilt glinting in his stare. “We’ll play pretend for as long as we have to, yeah? We’ll make all of it feel real one day.”

His words cut sharp even if it was just a reminder of something you already knew, that there was some sort of unseen force meddling in the sidelines of your life, forcing you to endure whatever life had in store for you, even if it meant pretending that it was all okay.

One thing did bother you, though.

A question that you looped over and over in the back of your mind and yet you never did dare ask him, as if afraid to hear the answer.

If he was simply fulfilling his promise to never let you go…

…Then why was he punishing you for being here?

[ellstronaut]

Going back to this debate

I know Ellle is a multifaceted individual that much is obvious she’s not one dimensional she has many elements to her personality. Additionally, it’s important to remember that even on the spectrum of masculine and feminine, Ellie isn’t completely one or the other. She exists in some sort of grey area between them, embodying both masculine and feminine traits. She’s not defined by one end of the spectrum, but rather by the interplay of these two extremes.

Yet at times the characterisation of Ellie is laced with internalised misogyny. And highlights the way “masc presenting” lesbians are treated in real life tied down to the “man” in the relationship why is Ellie mostly written as the dominant one especially when coupled with fem reader why do we head canon her as a top when it’s literally canon that she’s a switch? Why is there an infinite amount of “ellie taking care of the reader on her period” scenarios outnumber “Reader taking care of Ellie on her period” Ellie written as tall towering over fem reader and not like she’s literally 5’5

The fact is that there’s a heteronormative slant to the way people write her. Like I said almost never written as a switch, but a top. To some extent been portrayed as tall and dominating, never small or vulnerable. And Santa Barbara Ellie is often sexualized even though she is deeply traumatized and emotionally tormented. The problem is that people are viewing her through male-centric lenses, reducing her to an object of desire rather than a fully fleshed out woman with a complex, nuanced personality which includes many dimensions, some of which may be considered feminine.

There is no specific way to be a “masc lesbian” a woman nor feminine and express your femininity. Nor should that separate her from her womanhood/femininity. in a way it’s her way of showing how feminine she is. maybe not stereotypically through outward appearances, but her general identity. she’s a woman who experiences the same struggles that women do, Obviously she doesn’t waver just on the lines of black and white, she’s all rounded. In between. Grey area. The point I’m trying to make is that she’s all and above, you can be both masc and fem. I would add that Ellie's femininity is often overlooked or even belittled by people who only focus on traits that appeal to them. Not her emotional intelligence, her caring nature, her resilience, her dedication to her loved ones. Fuck she’s also a soft heart and a tender soul. These aspects of her are just as important to her character, she is a whole person ffs, exceptionally fleshed out

So fuck

“the hot wife and her hot boyfriend”

Why not

“The hot wife and her hot wife”

“She’s so boyfriend

Uh

“She’s so girlfriend”

Santa Barbara/Seattle is literally at her most vulnerable, disheveled state that girl is literally plagued with trauma, stuck in a limbo of “do I seek vengeance in the name of losing my family and absolutely everything or stay and suffer in silence (at who’s expense?? Hers) Yet we sexualise tf out of her, the most vulnerable pinnacle of existence—glorified and romanticised bc it’s “hot”

this is not a dig at anyone you’re free to write whatever tf you want bro it’s your platform but pls let’s not bs and pretend as of this doesn’t occur

[jesncin]

If you had to rank all the justice league fams ( superfam, batfam, martianfam, etc ) from least favorite to most favorite, how would you do it ?

Ooh I'm not familiar with all the cape-fams that well so I don't know how much of a proper ranking I can do, so here's just a random vibes tier list:

Martianfam: In canon (i guess this consists of just J'onn and M'gann, Jem if we're reaching), they're a mess. I'll save this for the 2nd part of the upcoming Ma'al essay, but Martianfam's biggest problem is having undefined relationships that don't take advantage of a proper family dynamic. Canonically F tier. However,,,I'm obsessed with my version of Martianfam so that bias puts Martianfam in theoretical S tier.

Superfam: So much potential in this fam to be generational immigrant/diaspora angst and tension only for canon to be so uncreative with the legacy characters (minus Kong Kenan). This fam suffers from overreliance on clones and alternate universe versions of existing characters tied to Clark's Kryptonian genes (the adopted twins, Kong, and the Steels are a good change of pace). Jon and Conner (and sometimes even Kara) are suffering being, what I like to call, a "Clark Kent factory product". They're too scared to make these boys different from dad. Conner Superboy is in limbo with Jon taking over. What is going on with Powergirl being infantilized now. However,,, if the immigrant allegory was critically applied to Superfam? Theoretical S tier. Canonically C tier.

Batfam: Undoubtedly the strongest of the cape-fams in DC. Even with their flaws and how they've been modernized, this is still the blueprint. What's there cultivates an intense fanbase and there's such a diversity in the backgrounds of each Batfam member and how they evolved. Each member has a unique relationship with Bruce, many characters are capable of sustaining their own solos, they have relationships with each other, gosh it's a lot. I'm affectionately putting this in A tier, shaving some points off for stuff like erasing Babs' disability, characters like Steph but especially Duke being sidelined, the girls being infantilized as the boys get to grow into men, whitewashing Damian, etc.

Wonderfam: I can only speak based on vibes here, but gosh you deserve so much better, Wonderfam. I feel like each member should deeply explore a new facet of womanhood different from Diana to freshen up each time a new legacy character joins the Wonderfam (Nubia's great at this from what I've seen). I love that this fam includes Themyscirans and sometimes ordinary girls (even if that gets retconned a bunch). I eyeroll from a distance whenever it's really obvious that the male-dominated writers of DC try adding men into Wonderfam as a means of focusing attention away from women (cough Diana's bro). But also. Kick Trinity out of Wonderfam. I have never seen a character so universally behated but I get it. Unfortunately D tier. I want better for this fam though.

GL fam: Really good! They're a unique fam in that being a part of the GL corp means being a part of the fam, so you get people from all sorts of backgrounds that don't have to be related to a main character. Theoretically this can even extend to other lantern colors whenever the GLs team up with baddies like Razer or Sinestro. You can arrange different groups or pairs of GLs to form their own Star-Trek esque team. And that's such a fun time when that happens. I'm not in GL fandom enough to know the nuances of some narrative flaws or anything, so I'm giving the GL fam a vibes based S tier. They just work! And they're unique while doing it.

Flashfam: I can only speak based on vibes here but whatever's going on with Flash fam just looks like such a fun time. From what I've seen and read, so many of the characters are funny and endearing. I love that there are many twins in this fam. That's just a bias for me. My biggest nitpick with Flashfam is that it suffers from over-convoluted origin stories. That's kind of a problem baked into the dough when your powers intersect with time travel, but it adds a layer of inaccessibility when some of the character's backstories are so convoluted. Vibes based B tier.

Aquafam: Mostly vibes based impression again since I don't really go here but I've met the characters a good amount of times. Arthur has a special theoretical space in my heart as someone borne of two cultures. We're here for that mixed diaspora struggle. I enjoy the rivalry he has with his brother, I think Mera has a lot of potential as a love interest and wifeguy (and she has an evil twin so, bonus in my book), and aquababy. Hah. I enjoy the many ways Aqualad has been reinterpreted across media. However! Kaldur/Jackson is definitely the most interesting addition to the family, imo! I'm all for villains or villain-adjacent characters being on Team Hero. I also like Black Manta. Petty baddie we respect. Uuh vibes based B tier. I'll theoretically bump this up to S tier if all Aquafam members walked out of the ocean to the H20 "Just Add Water" theme song.

Arrowfam: I'm embarrassingly unknowledgeable with Arrowfam members so we're doing vibes. On vibes they're like Batfam adjacent but sound way more interesting. Oliver Queen is a great messy character, and I like seeing each member have a different complex relationship to him. I'm very endeared to Roy/Arsenal/Speedy, his villain will-they-won't-they romance and baby dad plot is inherently interesting. I also love Connor Hawke!! Blasian ace king fr. And I adore Black Canary. She has so much going on and still checks in on this fam too. Idk if it's controversial of me, but A tier based on vibes.

Constantinefam: SIKE this loser doesn't have friends or family they're all dead. S tier. If DC is pushing DC!Johnstantine into a family or partnership dynamic with JL Dark, Zatanna, or Xanthe Zhou? Theoretical F tier.

Haha this was fun to write, thank you for the fun ask! Nice to ramble about the various fams of the DC world.

[bucknastysbabe]

Handsome Devil • C. Cole

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 4.3k of uhhh I love this little guy lets break him

Tags: PEGGING, prostate massage, anal sex, oral (f and m! receiving) femdom, modern au, college au, Criston is actually a little Baby Girl but pretends to be Big Man, like he’s a touch-starved needy SLUT, enemies to lovers, fast burn, Degredation and dirty talk, feminization, alcohol use, Alicent is a sad lesbian and I stand by this, man tears, subby spacey boy, Alicent is DONEEEE

Taglist: @arcielee @bambitas @moncherrii @starogeorgina @valeskafics @aemonds-holy-milk @targaryenbarbie @sugarpoppss2 @lovelykhaleesiii @thought--bubble @fairysluna

The more you learned about the enigmatic Criston Cole, the less you wanted to know. Mainly because his bravado was a bluff you could only seem to see. He listened to those idiotic chauvinist podcasts. You’d almost asked Alicent why she brought the asshole around so often.

But you knew. They both got dumped by Rhaenyra, who was moving on as they stewed. Her new man was quite hot. Poor Ali, she was the epitome of sad sapphic poetry. Stuck in the ways of her upbringing— a limbo of sorts. Still, a dear friend whom you tried to uplift and support, especially after the breakup.

Meanwhile, she was getting closer to Criston. Who you had remained to have a normal conversation with. Usually, you’d argue with him until he would yell or storm out— over topics such as tampons being taxed or the gender pay gap. Alicent would merely ignore you two, pouring over a book, headphones in.

The prick was a waste of good looks in your opinion. There had to be a chink in his proverbial armor. Perhaps something under the puffed chest and nice clothes. Social media didn’t turn up much besides his frat and different dates every day of the week. He had multiple retweets of meninism or whatever the fuck incels called it these days.

The only observation you could draw from his socials and continuous annoying existence was he couldn’t keep a girlfriend. You weren’t going to reach out to Rhaenyra either.

You’d have to test your theory next time he was over with Ali. That was nearly always if he wasn’t out being a “frat star” or had class. You heard his clipped tones and her replies as you lay in bed. You’d have to get up and say hello. There was an ongoing competition to who could give the least excited greeting after all.

“Oh, you again.”

“Yep,” he replied, popping the ‘p’. You narrowed your eyes and shouldered past his stupidly good-looking body. You could feel the heat of his gaze follow your frame to the refrigerator.

“Care for something Cole?”

“Sparkling water. Anyways have you heard about this new-“

You tuned Criston’s impressively sexist commentary out, handing the sparkling water to him and landing a smack to a pert ass. It was a heavy handed smack— like the prick was some poor girl at a party. Alicent already had her headphones in, typing away, pointedly ignoring you two. Criston spluttered and gaped, brows furrowing.

“What the fuck was that for?”

His brows were pulled tight and cheeks flushed. ‘Fuck yes!’ you thought, this might be ammo. Shrugging you stated, “I dunno, figured you talk so much about these horrid men you’d want to be treated like one of their ‘bitches’, yes?”

Criston hissed, “You’re so dramatic, don’t touch me.” You couldn’t help but smirk at his trembling hands on the countertop, drink left untouched. A certain stagnancy was in the air. Making a faux expression of concern you cooed at him.

“Oh, my bad, did alpha sigma male chad Criston get his pretty ass slapped?”

He gasped, actually gasped out loud.

You changed gears, “I mean, someone needs to fuck all those emotions outta’ you. Such a whiny thing. None of your frat bros take it out on that sweet ass? Back when you were a freshman? C’mon you were soooo twinky then.”

Criston’s bravado had shattered quite more than you anticipated. His stark white knuckles on the marble counter trembled, a red flush appearing down the tan neck. He ran an exasperated hand through his curls, voice weak, “I’ve done nothing ah-of the sort. What game are you playing here? I only fuck girls.”

“The hot gossip was that Rhaenyra had you on all fours, like a sweet pup.”

He chugged the sparkling water, sweat beading on his forehead. Placing it down with a shaking hand Cole warbled, crossing his arms defensively “Th-that’s lies, fuck off, really, you’re into that degeneracy?” You laughed and sauntered off with your own drink, pausing at your bedroom door.

“If you need a good fucking, my door is open, I’d give that mouth of yours something to suck on.”

Criston visibly shivered and swallowed, adjusting his pants. Narrowing his eyes, he snatched his laptop and walked away. You blew a kiss, closing your door. Either Criston would take the bait or continue on into misery. You had a feeling it would only be a matter of time.

Ali and Criston were trashed from her sorority’s formal and you said you’d be the designated driver. You had completely forgotten until Ali sent a text, “met a hot chick walking to her dorm, Cris still needs a ride. Pleaseeeee🥺🥺🥺🥺” For the sake of Alicent getting her pussy ate for once you told her you’d pick up bozo. Which he eagerly got into your car, still taking pulls from his bottle of dark liquor.

You stared in abject horror at his disheveled state, particularly the way his pinched look was absent. Criston Cole was shitfaced to say the least. His eyes were hazy and reddened, a loose way in which he held himself, none of that tightness. Criston sat forward, whining, “Change the music, something else, ugh!”

“We have a 30-minute drive so it better be good Cole.” He clumsily plugged his phone in…and out came the wailing tones of Morrissey. You did a double take— wondering if Criston Cole was truly a fan of the ultimate sad sack music? You loved the band too but this felt...strange. Criston laid back and sang along, stretching his legs, dark hair flowing in the wind.

“The Smiths huh?”

Dark eyes regarded you slowly. He mumbled, “The- the songs, they get me. It’s s’good. I’ve heard you listen to them.”

“Yeah they’re a favorite of mine actually,” you admitted. How come he couldn’t talk to you about that? You scoffed, he was such a fucking weirdo. Criston smiled goofily, looking over at you. He laughed, “You’re being nice to me!”

“You’re not being a raging dick head, of course, I’ll return the favor Criston.”

He grinned some more, eyes out the window, singing along to the lyrics. His smile faded but he continued to softly murmur along.

And I’m not happy and I’m not sad.

“You hanging in there okay? Not feeling sick?”

“Nah, m’fine, didn’t really hit it heavy until later. When we had to dance and shit.” You smirked, prodding a broad shoulder. Criston snorted, “I don’t like to dance unless I’m properly loaded, too awkward.”

You laughed, “I love to dance! It’s not all business.”

He took another swig and rasped, “Trust me, it’s quite awful, I can deal with that shitty frat grinding for a bit, no finesse in that. You won’t catch me fist pumping around.”

You decided drunk Criston was entertaining. Fishing through the car’s compartments you asked “Wanna smoke?” He groaned in delight, “Fuck yes, Ali hates it.” You lit up one and handed it to him, suppressing the shiver at the soft touch of his warm fingertips.

You smoked along with him, belting Handsome Devil.

I say, I say, I say, I crack the whip! And you skip but you deserve it— you deserve it deserve it deserve it.

He giggled a bit, pretty face exclaiming the innuendo filled lyrics. Cole unbuttoned his stiff blazer and threw the last dregs of his cigarette out. You softly glanced over, shaking your head at this strange version of the bane of your existence. He raised a thick brow and questioned “What? You’re looking through me again.”

“You’re a fun drunk,” you laughed with eyes on the road.

“I’ve been told that I don’t know- it’s weird,” he murmured.

“It’s not weird. You don’t need a drink to lighten yourself up,” you playfully rolled your eyes, “Or be a raging chauvinist.”

Criston narrowed his eyes, lightly shoving you by the shoulder. You giggled and yelped, “Hey- easy there- I’m driving!” Criston snorted, “Then drive and don’t insult me. Also, I’m taking Ali’s bed, better than that shit they give me at the frat house.”

Criston is alone in the apartment with you. That would be a first. You merely nodded with a weak, “Aye-aye captain.” He asked for another cigarette, singing and smoking. You would peer at his relaxed face and shoulders, smiling softly.

It would be back to normal come morning.

He was a bit drunker than you expected upon arrival. Criston stumbled a bit closing the car door, clumsy footsteps leading to the stairs. You followed along, getting out your key and snickering. Cole smelled good; a mix of cologne, cigarettes, and expensive bourbon. You ignored the way he was towering over you.

You unlocked the door and let him in, turning back to lock it again. As you twisted again, the brunette’s big hands and lips were on your face. His voice cracked as he moaned, “Want you so fucking bad, c’mon baby, c’mon.” You’d love to indulge him but the man was wasted.

Gently removing yourself from him you shook your head to state, “Criston. You’re drunk. Maybe sleep this off a little before making moves.” He frowned, puppy eyes shining pitifully. He huffed, running a hand through his wind-blown hair. “Right, right, m’sorry, I just.” He began to walk away.

“You just what?”

Criston shot you the most pitiful look. The type of look that made you want to baby him. Then make him cry. You leaned toward babying him right now. Criston untied his laces, voice sulky, “You intimidate me so I just act like a prick. I thought since the other day you might be interested.”

You sighed at the pouting man.

“Criston, darling, I really wish we didn’t have this moment when you’re fucked up. No funny business but you can cuddle with me tonight. Since you look like a sad puppy.”

He seemed to brighten a bit, apologizing, “I- I know! And don’t call me that.”

Rolling tired eyes, you moved into your bedroom while stripping. He stared at you merely clad in underwear and a thin tank. Maybe you could play around with him in the morning? Alicent will want to play sleepover at least two more nights before the inevitable breakdown.

Criston eventually shuffled in, wearing his briefs and dumb little argyle socks. He climbed clumsily onto the bed, you chiding, “Under here dummy, here!” He snickered, warm body sidling to your own. A tan arm wrapped its way around your waist, the man like a damn Koala the way he plastered himself to you.

He pressed a few little kisses before getting batted on the head. Criston groaned before snuffling, “You’re so strange, God, make me feel goddamn crazy.” His legs intertwined with your own, lips smirking against your nape.

“So does this mean you aren’t always…so sexist?” you asked.

He didn’t reply but you knew the answer. Sleep reached the pair of you easily, especially poor drunk Criston. He’d be alright after some breakfast. The man laced his fingers with yours, dreaming of happy things.

You awoke with a very hard dick slotted between your ass cheeks. Criston still had a death grip on you— inky curls tickling your face. Raising a brow you took inventory of the situation. The man was not awake. But he was groaning and rutting against your ass.

This should be good.

“Criston- uhhh- Criston!,” you yelped. Brown eyes opened wide, his cute face half red and curls adorably sleep-mussed. He retracted himself in a flail of limbs, apologizing profusely. He seemed to be getting more frantic until you put a hand on his surprisingly still-hard dick.

Criston’s wide eyes flicked down to your hand and back up to your dead serious face. He gulped, “I- uh- enjoyed last night. Sorry.” Holding back a laugh, your hand tightened a little on his girth, straining the dark fabric. The man was bigger than you thought, especially after all that horrid talk.

He whimpered a little, eyelids fluttering, dark lips falling open. You questioned the man “Well, Ali won’t be here for a bit. Maybe I can make good on my promise Hm?” Another whimper graced your ears. Criston whined softly, “Please, yes, please.”

You immediately straddled him, Criston groaning, remaining pliant. Caressing his cheek you asked “How’s the hangover? Maybe some breakfast and water first? I’ll be a good little housewife and make it for you.” He scoffed, lips turning up a hair, “I always thought you had it in you. Sure.”

You ignored his comments while making some French toast. Soon you’d have the man crying and shaking, Criston could cling to his manhood while he ate. Immediately after— you two had climbed back into bed, you atop his slim hips, the tank top was far gone.

His big hands greedily pawed at your tits, Criston lapping into your mouth. You had reached around to curl your fingers in slightly overlong hair, moaning into his mouth. You’d been lazily rutting your hips against his cock, enjoying the man trying to cut off his moans.

What was he going to do when you had two fingers in his ass playing with his prostate?

You smirked and pulled back, him chasing you forward, brows pinching. Sliding both of your palms down his chest you cooed, “Lay back, I got you, sweetheart.” Criston fell back like a chopped tree, dark eyes looking up. You inched down tan skin until you sat between his thighs, patting his hips so you could get his underwear off. His adorably soaked fucking briefs.

“You’re excited hm? All wet for me?”

Criston shivered, thighs twitching as he bit his bottom lip, swallowing audibly. You eased off his underwear, fighting back laughter as you threw them to the side. It was the reverse of what usually happened in bed for the man— you knew that. His cock was flushed and gorgeous as it slightly dribbled pre onto olive skin.

You hummed in excitement, laying on your belly as you took his length in hand. Criston’s stomach twitched as he breathed in sharply, face agonized. You immediately lowered your head to the slit and laved off the pre, eyes coming up to meet his.

“Oh fucking…fuck,” he muttered, hands fisting in the comforter. He was holding back— big time. You would get Criston to unwind soon. You felt the poor baby didn’t know what was hitting him. Swallowing down the head of his cock you rolled his balls with your other hand, making the man groan and twitch again.

You bobbed your head in a familiar rhythm, making sure to drool all over his cock, the wetter the better. Coming up to flick your tongue at the frenulum or his sensitive tip had more spit rolling down to his balls and Criston throwing his head back to moan.

You’d try a little stimulation first before shocking the man with the anal question. While still sucking, the hand holding his balls crept back to shove two fingers up into that sensitive thin skin. You felt him from the other side, that hard gland was a bit swollen. Good god, had the guy not cum in days?

Criston’s entire demeanor shifted as you stroked his taint. His legs subtly widened, stomach sucking in as he let out the tiniest little whine. You pulled off his cock immediately, still stroking as you needled, “Crisssston, you like me playing with your special spot? Spreading your legs for me like a slut.”

He whimpered and a hand came up to his head as if to hide his eyes. Cole managed to reply after heaving a couple of times. The man moaned, “You- you can’t! Ohmygod s’fucking good- no!”

Kissing his trembling hips you kept massaging and stroking, murmuring in a more gentle tone “It’s okay sweetheart, it’ll be our little secret, I think you’ll feel good if you let me play some more. Really milk you dry. You want that baby?”

He moaned long and loud, cock slightly spitting onto his messy stomach. You grinned, watching Criston unravel by the second. He was a goddamn princess, wanting to be babied and loved on. He babbled, “Please yes— don’t tell anyone please I want it so so so bad please!”

You smiled at him, pressing lips to his hipbone again, shushing his pleading. This was going to be a fun ride for your new toy. You eased your fingers back, instructing Cole to bend his legs, he huffed and immediately followed the order.

It took a lot of petting and hushing until you’d breached his tight rim. You had to get up and grab lube when Criston started to ramble and tighten in apprehension. He was looser around your fingers but still wound tighter than a bowstring.

Every breath was a soft little noise, his dark orbs nervously flicking down to watch. You slipped your middle finger along the pointer, sitting flush up against his thighs for comfort. Watching his face you fingered deeper, fingers awkwardly searching for his prostate. You knew you’d found it when he jolted and shouted abruptly, tensing up.

He mewled like a cute little slut when you dragged your fingers across the gland, legs tightening around your hips before he arched and spread wider for you. Cooing in surprise you remarked, “Good boy, yesss, spreading your legs for me like a sweet baby.”

Criston seemed to lose more control at your words, crying wordlessly and writhing as he was worked over. His hands grasped and held at your waist, nails digging in just so. You grinned and put more pressure on him. He responded easily, shuddering and whining as his cock leaked more and more.

“Please, oh my god, please more, more, touch me!”

You leaned over his trembling body, lips ghosting over his drooling ones, practically fucking him with your fingers. Criston was sloppy as he pressed swollen lips against yours, tongue desperately lapping inside, moaning all the while. Snickering at him only had him whine and try harder, brain slowly oozing out of his ears with every rough jab of your digits.

You breathed when he did, softly demanding, “You’re so damn needy Criston, come for me and loosen up pretty baby.” Swiping a lazy hand across the mess of his sensitive stomach had Cole gasping and falling apart whimpering. His trembling hands slapped to the bed as you felt his ass tighten around your fingers, cock flexing as he spilled all over his stomach.

Criston dissolved into tears, blabbering, “I-I’m still cumming, ah, mmm, I’m s-still cumming!” You smirked as you dragged across his sweet spot again, forcing another whiny sob and gush of essence out. He was writhing again, back arching to figure out whether to escape or fuck back onto your digits.

“Goodness. You’ve made a mess of yourself. Attention whore, you just needed to be coddled and loved on. Stupid little pet,” you drawled.

“Mhm, mhm, yes!,” Criston groaned, “A fucking whore.”

“You want something bigger in your ass honey? Since you’re my whore?”

His eyes rolled a little, you having to hold his cheek to get the man’s full attention. Criston stared at you with wide eyes, mouth fumbling around a response. You slid your fingers out of him gingerly, relocating to a nearby shirt, wiping your hand off.

Criston breathed, “God oh- uh- God, yes, yes I want it.”

He blinked in shock when you were back between his thighs, looming over his already used body. The polka-dotted harness and strap-on cock were secured. Criston had been quiet and pliant while you got ready, hand rubbing his achy cock, squirming and softly sighing in need. You tittered at him in sympathy, poor baby's dick had not wilted since the beginning of this excursion.

You fisted the strap with a lubed hand, smiling at Criston's little noises and trembling. Off a look alone, one would think he was either a virgin or a nympho. Sliding your non-lubed palm up his inner thigh had Criston whine deep in his chest, dark lashes fluttering across reddened cheeks. He slurred softly "M'ready, unnh, be gentle?"

Rubbing soothing circles into his lean thigh you hummed, honey dripping from your words, "Don't have to worry about a thing sweetie, I've got you. You're gonna love it I promise." Criston nodded, puppy eyes trained on you, his hands slithering to your hips to grip the flesh.

You rubbed the tip of the blunt strap against his loosened ass, inching in enough to pop the tip. Criston’s breath drew tight, eyes wide, fear flitting across his features. You shoved both of your thighs up under his, stroking tan flanks while murmuring, “Relax, s’okay baby, jus’ us Criston, relax.”

He nodded with a strangled noise, the silicon cock sliding in halfway, you laying down atop Criston. You traced a hand across his stubbled cheek to dark hair, kissing eager lips. Cole opened for you with a hopeless moan, then a cry as you jerked your hips— the fake dick all the way inside now. You whispered between kisses, “Mm- there we go- good boy- takin’ me all the way like that.”

“Uh-huh,” he garbled out, pretty eyes rolling.

His bigger arms had wrapped around your back, leaving your lower half to fuck him in a shallow rhythm, grazing his sensitive sweet spot. You had one arm up and in Criston’s hair, the other holding his hip as you fucked him. Moans fell out of his swollen mouth on every thrust, his legs flopping between tightening and falling loose.

“Aw, baby, you feel good? You being my good whore Criston?”

Criston sobbed, rutting back onto your dick and wrapping long legs around your waist. He slurred some nonsense as you fucked into him harder, angling downward to hit his prostate. Soon you struck it again, the sweet baby between your legs crying and wailing, kissing and holding you all the while.

You idly wondered if the neighbors could hear Criston being thoroughly used and broken down into mush.

He panted, “Oh, god god god, oh baby, m’gonna cum again!”

“Yeah priss? Gonna cum from having a dick in your slutty pussy?”

Criston trembled and made the most pitiful noise, blabbering and kissing frantically as his arms tightened, “Fuck! Yes!” You grinned and returned the needy little pecks, clapping your hips against his ass, watching his cock leak and swell once again. He’d probably have the orgasm of his life soon. Striking Cole deep began the fire, and then your words set him aflame, burning up as he came with another wail.

He impossibly tightened around you, cum flooding your stomachs as he whimpered, cried, and carried on like the needy little thing he was. Criston sobbed, “Pl-pl-ease don’t ever stop-p! S’go-od! Ohmygod m’all yours, only yours, forever!” You grinned and eased out of him, unclipping the strap-on so you could coddle your whiny toy.

“Such a cute baby, did so well, hmm, you needed to cum huh priss?”

Criston nodded into your neck, not wanting to let go. He asked in a tiny voice “Lemme be yours?” Stroking his slightly sweaty hair you replied, “Sure babes, just remember who blew your mind right here. You’re mine now.” He let out a soft noise, nodding pliantly, nosing and kissing your smooth skin. If you could picture it, hearts were just appearing over the man.

You’d have to talk to him again when he wasn’t a submissive mess— but Criston seemed quite eager to be petted and called pretty. Fucking Princess. You held back your laughter as the thought bubbled up. He was so damn clingy right now you could pull out a purse and he’d crawl into it, or if you had a leash? Criston Cole would definitely be excited.

He just needed to be trained up a little, s’all.

Alicent was tired. She had met a nice girl for once, but she couldn't go shack up for a week as much as she wanted to. Criston and her 'froomie' had been radio silent. The redhead feared they may have killed each other. She gently keyed into the tiny apartment and slunk in, eyes darting around.

"That's good, ah, good boy!" came the cry of Alicent's roommate. She clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes widening in horror. Alicent wanted to melt into the floor. Dear bestie had one of her 'toys' over. Alicent could maybe duck and scramble her way into her room-- from the noises, it sounded like she was receiving some oral attention.

Ali dropped to her knees and ignored the moaning and slick noises. A deeper voice moaned something, Alicent's roommate responding, "Oh shush prissy, there's no one here. You're just being paranoid." The Hightower girl paused again, crawling behind the loveseat. The noises of very...excited cunnilingus ramped back up. She made the horrid choice to peak out before making the final cross.

Criston 'I don't eat pussy' Cole was on his knees. Eating the pussy of his mortal enemy, Alicent's roommate. Quite enjoyed it from the way he had a hand shoved down his sweats. How long had they been at it? It hit Alicent that the whole apartment reeked of marathon fucking. She could not believe this. Sure they had lowkey sexual tension but this?

Alicent scrambled across to her room, eyes forward and praying no one would notice.

"OH MY GOD- NOnONO! Christ!"

"Oh shit sorry Alicat! I didn't hear you come in! He's trained now!"

Alicent stood behind her closed door, hand over her helplessly smiling mouth. Oh my god, she couldn't be serious right now. Criston Cole broke in as the roomie's toy while she was gone. Hell must have frozen over. She laughed, Criston's miserable voice echoing from the living room. Alicent had to get away from the door so he would not hear her losing her mind. Good for them, good for them!

[sorinethemastermind]

An Assassin Analysis

I was honestly not expecting to see Ram, Skor, Callisto, and Andromeda again. I thought that their role in the story had ended in Season One, but I especially thought that after their souls passed on in Through the Moon.

When Rayla first went through the portal at the Moon Nexus she encountered them; something that was surprising to me. I had assumed that they, not turned into coins or held in limbo by Aaravos, would simply have passed on. But we discovered in the comic that their spirits were not at peace;

After seeing that the binding was gone from Rayla's wrist, they assumed that meant she had completed their mission and killed Ezran. They vanished before she was able correct them. I took this as them passing on in peace once they believed that their mission had been completed.

So why, now, are we seeing them again?

"The Keeper has a secret." That is what the Instagram post with the new screen shots says. So... are the assassins connected to The Keeper's secret?

Based on the Moon arcanum's relationship with the afterlife, death, and the thin line between reality and illusion, my first thought is that The Keeper is some sort of "Keeper of Souls". But that doesn't make sense, because I don't think that Ram, Skor, Callisto, and Andromeda are going to come back. I think that this is an illusion of them. Or, at most, their spirits being called back to speak one final time (maybe my theory can be correct).

I don't think that they're really there, and I don't think that they'll be brought back from death.

In the image, we see them holding out their hands as if to cup one of the metal lotuses that Ethari made, though they're empty.

And beyond that, I feel like what Rayla is standing in with them could be the pool of water in the Silvergrove, where said lotuses are placed.

One theory I have is that Rayla is in a sort of "trial" to have her status as a Ghost removed. But there are many more options.

Whatever the case, this makes me think that we will definitely be seeing the Silvergrove again. But does that mean that Runaan and Rayla are going to go off on a solo mission while Callum heads to Katolis?

Another option is that, if my theory is correct and The Keeper does have a connection to the afterlife, they could potentially use him to commune with the spirit of those that originally put Aaravos away; learning the whereabouts of the Nova Blade.

So maybe they go to the Silvergrove for help, and to reunite Runaan and Ethari, but before The Keeper will help them Rayla must face what happened back in Season One and her status amongst the elves there as a Ghost.

[perfectwitchcrown]

Dante and Betrayal in Make the Exorcist Fall in Love

Ok so now that chapter 79 has come out I really want to discuss something I think is kind of interesting as a through line between Dante's Inferno and Dante in Make The Exorcist Fall in Love. This is mostly just word vomit haha. Also, asterisks indicate footnotes that I've left towards the bottom of the post!

Cw: discussion of sexual violence, victim blaming, and homophobia. Also, image of cartoon gore (when priest pulled out his eye in the first chapter) after the read more

In the Divine Comedy, the closer Dante the pilgrim moves to the center of hell, the more intense Dante the poet is casting the sins being punished there are. So, Dante starts in Limbo, which he presents as containing the least serious of sins, then continues on through a variety of different sins. The ninth and final circle of hell, containing what Dante the poet felt was the most serious of sins, is treachery. In the notes to their translation of the Inferno, Robert Hollander and Jean Hollander write that "The three most gravely punished sinners of the poem are Judas Iscariot, who betrayed Jesus (founder of the Church), as well as Brutus and Cassius, who betrayed Julius Caesar (the first ruler of the empire" (639).

Dante Alighieri presents betrayal then as the worst sin possible, which I think has been carried through into Ekuoto Dante's perception of whatever happened with Vergilius in the past.

Specifically, I’m thinking of their conversation in chapter 20. Verge identifies Dante’s powers as relating to Lot’s wife turning to a pillar of salt when fleeing Sodom.

I think Dante’s response is pretty interesting for several reasons. For one, based on the paneling and what we see, he’s identifying Sodom with the church, not with Verge. Verge, as someone who fled then is Lot, and Dante positions himself as Lot’s wife, which is both fascinating in the way he’s presenting their relationship and that it implies that he views his decision to stay with the church as a decision of weakness, just as Lot’s wife turning to look back at Sodom is considered spiritual weakness.

It was his betrayal of Verge then that he considers his sin.

Frankly though I wonder if there’s an element of miscommunication between the two of them as well in regard to this.

This is the part where I get super speculative, because we still don’t know what happened in the panel depicted (although I wonder if we’ll be finding out soon). But, just based on the few things we’ve seen, there’s a couple things I’d like to propose.

I don’t think Dante and Vergilius in have ever explicitly told each other that they love each other. I could be totally wrong about this, but based on Dante’s reactions in this chapter, both to the homophobia he experienced and not wanting to talk about it with Verge, and his shyness around romantically charged physical contact with him (it’s Verge who holds his hand, Dante doesn’t hold it back), and just based on the fact that they were kids, I think whatever splintering in their relationship occurred it was before either of them had actually been able to verbally express what they meant to each other. They reaaaaally read to me as having still been in that first gay crush where you’re sort of together but also not really acknowledging it stage of their relationship.*

I wonder if Verge may have been victim blamed in some regard for what happened with that priest we see. I could see Arima Aruma making commentary on the way victims of sexual exploitation can be blamed if they’re “imperfect” victims. Personally, I don’t trust Abbott Nicholas like even a little bit in how he handles situations, and just based on the expression Dante has as a kid looking back at him, I wonder if he may have said something pretty fucked. Or, at the very least, not helpful at all towards Verge, and tinged in some way, by homophobia. Like, ultimately, at his age Verge was not capable of consenting whatsoever to what was happening. I wonder if because Verge was accepting money in return, Abbott Nicholas may have blamed him partially for what happened**

All of these proposals in consideration, then, I think potentially color Verge’s comment when he says “how cruel” in chapter 20. I wonder if Dante’s betrayal may have also been a deeper betrayal of their relationship -> not just that he didn’t go with him, but that he may have not acknowledged the relationship they had. In other words, if Abbott Nicholas may have victim blamed Verge in a way that also centered his queerness and Dante froze.

Returning to the conversation in chapter 20 then, if, from Verge’s perspective, Dante’s powers reference sexual intercourse between men, and Dante may have never fully communicated how he felt for Verge, that how cruel may have been because he was taking it as further shaming him for his own assault -> if the sin is having had sex with a man, and if Verge may have been blamed for his rape, then Dante’s powers may come across as further victim blaming towards Verge, that because Verge was sexually abused by a man as a form of survival sex work (not that he could have ever consented to that at his age), Verge has “committed sin,” whereas Dante has not (presuming that Dante has never had sex with a man, which like, idk but idk if Verge knows either).

Dante’s response, “that’s not my sin” then, wouldn’t actually refute that to Verge. It would just tie into that. “No, I’ve never had sex with a man, that’s not my sin” -> which also would function as a further rejection of the feelings they held for each other.

On the other hand, I don’t think that’s how Dante meant it. I think Dante’s perspective on it not having been his sin, especially with how he follows it up, and with what he said towards the beginning of the series about love, is that he doesn’t view his feelings towards Verge as sin at all. Rather, it was his failure to take his side that he views as his sin. His response he may have meant both as a “what I felt for you wasn’t sin” and a “what happened to you wasn’t your fault.” The panel frames the church as Sodom, so the sin of what occurred to Verge is not homosexuality, but rape, and Dante clearly places the blame with the priest.

And to tie into this, I think it’s significant that it’s not Dante’s personal money he uses to pay women at brothels to offer them the financial means to leave sex work should they choose, it’s church funds.***

TL;DR

To sum all this up, I think Dante and Verge may both have skewed understandings of what went wrong in their relationship and how they felt towards each other, but I think the idea that Dante betrayed Verge is central to it. I’m not sure that Vergilius thinks that Dante betrayed him though. I think this is Dante’s perspective of whatever happened that we still don’t know about. I am interested in seeing if we get any further information about their past in the next chapter or if we won’t be seeing anymore for a while.

Footnotes

*I think further in support of this is Verge’s reaction at the bowling alley when Priest falsely confirms that Dante is having sex with women in brothels. He teases Dante in their fight in chapters 20-21 for being worked up over him, but honestly, I don’t think he has confidence that his feelings for him in childhood were reciprocated in the same way.

**In support of this I think we should consider Dante’s reaction following Priest’s assault in the first chapter. Priest blames himself for his assault—“I looked upon a woman with lust. I am deserving of this punishment”—and Dante immediately thinks of Abbott Nicholas, and then immediately tries to impress upon Priest that consensual sexual desire isn’t wrong.

***Dante seems to consider his position within the church as one that enables him to decrease exploitation the most. Daniel, in one of the files, refers to the policy (that he instituted) post Mother Rosa death of banning the weak from serving as exorcists, as having resulted in the exploitation of children, who now make up the bulk of the exorcists. If Dante leaves the church at this point, he would be doing so as one of the remaining adult exorcists, leaving the work to the rest of the children

Random Extra Thoughts:

I’ve seen speculation that shit may have gone down between the two of them in-between the four year timeskip after the first chapter since Dante has become noticeably more pessimistic. Personally, based on Verge knowing about Dante going to brothels, and based on Dante knowing to look for Verge by speaking to sex workers at brothels, I wonder if they may have seen each other at a brothel. Vergilius would’ve been a witch by this point. I’ve had to go through parts of the manga again, but he’s been a witch for at least ten years at this point. Which is an interesting timeline, since Dante and Mother Rosa were both present 11 years ago at the fight against Beelzebub. Much to consider

Also, Dante and Verge keep referencing each other’s respective ages (that Dante has been aging and Verge is still young) and tying it not just to appearance but also behavior. With the potential miscommunication in regards to their feelings with each other, I sort of also wonder if Verge associates their relationship with their youth as well, and may assume that the romantic element to their love for each other is something Dante considers himself to have grown out of.

Tying into the above, I think it’s significant that we the audience haven’t yet seen an ordinary adult who is openly gay. Verge and the other witches who are queer (Erskine and Cyril based on their presence sharing a broom naked in the background of the witch’s sabbath, other various witches who’ve been similarly paired off) have all frozen themselves in time. Dante is gay, but based on his behavior at the brothels, not out. Also, and this could just be early series wonkiness, but when Abbott Nicholas tells Dante in the first chapter not to introduce Priest to a variety of vices, womanizing comes up as one of them. So, like, whatever happened in the past, I don’t think Dante has ever acknowledged himself as gay to Abbott Nicholas or the larger community.