#but otherwise they seem to just get similar treatment

[artificial-ascension]

Being transmasc means you will hear people say shit to you with their whole chest that, if they said to a cis woman, would get them on a block list of raging misogynists instantly also you are also on that block list for bringing this up.

[mypoisonedvine]

another idea for dr crane but i'm afraid it might be too similar to thoughtless so please just ignore if it is!!: from personal experience, being a patient of his who is seeing him bc of sexual trauma. fear of penetration due to previous sexual assault. and ofc he's all about exposure therapy. and you wanna trust him so so bad bc he wants what's best for you, he's encouraging you ("you deserve to embrace your sexuality, you get past this one barrier and you're free"), but you start to fight back. and he takes personal offense bc he's your doctor, why don't you trust his expertise? but then it starts to feel good~

idk i picture reader trying with a toy in front of him but he gets impatient sees she's struggling with going that extra step further so he takes control either with the toy or himself.

warnings: not actually that dark (I mean, it is cause he's her therapist lol but he's not nonconning her) but still manipulation, slightly medical kink?, praise kink

(oops this turned out pretty long how did that happen? lmao)

"Did you try what we discussed last week?" he asked, and you pressed your knees together as you looked down and shook your head. "Really? You seemed very positive about it before."

"I was," you admitted. "It seemed really easy-- just sort of training myself, you know. But then I got home and... I guess it was a little overwhelming."

"Hm," he said, and you started to feel guilty for disappointing him. "That's interesting-- it seems like you were more comfortable here than at home. I figured it would be the other way around."

"Yeah, that would make more sense, I guess," you shrugged, "but-- I dunno..."

"Do you want to try again?" he wondered.

"I do," you admitted, "but I'm nervous that I'll start panicking again..."

"Then why don't you try here?"

You tensed up at just the suggestion; "Wouldn't that be... I mean, isn't that...?"

"I'm a medical doctor," he reminded you with a chuckle, "I've seen much worse. This is simply part of your treatment. I want you to get better."

You took a deep breath, nodding. "Okay," you decided. "Okay, I can try it."

"Great," he smiled, uncrossing his legs and resetting his clipboard in his lap. "We agreed before that you'd be more comfortable with your fingers than silicone dilators, is that still--?"

"Yes," you interrupted, "definitely. Feels too... clinical, otherwise."

He nodded, and there was a brief silence.

"So, do I just... start?"

"I'd like you to try," he said gently.

You noticed that his gaze never broke away from you, but you looked down into your lap as you started to slowly spread your legs. "So I just.. reach under my dress?"

"That should be fine," he encouraged. "There's nothing to be afraid of-- this is a safe space."

You nodded in agreement, pulling up your dress enough to reach into your panties. Sighing, you tried not to let nerves get the better of you as you pushed your lips apart with your fingers. But still, the anxiety was bubbling up, and you pressed the tip of your finger to your hole only to feel resistance alongside your distress. "I-- I don't think I can--"

"It's alright," he soothed, "start with the outside first-- stimulate your clitoris."

You choked on a laugh, still too nervous to look at him. "You really are a medical doctor..."

"What, too formal?" he chuckled. "Alright... rub your clit."

That shocked you even more than the clinical language; but it made you pulse inside, too. "O-okay..."

You pressed your fingers against the bud, trying to rub it, but it didn't really feel like anything-- like rubbing your elbow or something. Jonathan corrected you right away: "Not so hard," he said, "start gently."

"Sorry," you breathed, shutting your eyes.

"No-- it's fine," he assured, "I just want to help."

He was right, though; when you lessened the pressure and gently rubbed in circles, it started to feel good-- slowly, but surely. When your next breath came out shaky, you heard him hum with satisfaction.

"Is that better?" he asked.

"Yes," you answered, but you didn't mean for it to be a moan.

"I think you're ready," he informed you-- and something about his voice, it was lower than before, it was different... it was making you wet.

"Ready... for what?" you whispered, daring to open your eyes and see the darkness in his expression as he watched you.

"Ready to fuck yourself with your fingers."

"Oh," you sighed, feeling like you'd been punched in the gut-- in the best possible way. "Okay..."

"Just one to start," he encouraged, "put a finger inside yourself, nice and slow."

You sighed as you pressed the finger up to your hole again, smiling as you realized it was more open-- and wet-- than before. You gently pressed in further, finding some pressure but pushing through it until you were knuckle deep in yourself. You smiled happily; "I did it," you breathed, "oh my god, I-- I never thought I'd--"

"Don't stop," he cooed, "move it back and forth. If you do well enough, you can add a second finger."

You figured he meant it that you would be able to add a second finger, but it almost sounded like a bargain, like a reward. Do what I say and I'll let you add a second, or something. Surely that wasn't what he meant.

"A little faster," he encouraged as you pumped the finger. "That's it, very good."

You whimpered, biting down on your lip to hide your moan. You wanted him to say that again, to tell you that you were doing this correctly.

"Add the second now," he instructed, his own voice suddenly sounding a little hoarse and needy. "Stretch yourself out-- and tell me how it feels."

"It feels good," you panted as you started to add your second finger, whining at the stretch. "Fuck, I-- will they both fit?"

He chuckled a little-- a low, rough sound-- and promised you: "Yes, they'll fit. You can take a lot more than two fingers, with some patience."

You hadn't even imagined being able to do more than this-- for years, you hadn't been able to put anything inside you, and now here you were... fingering yourself in front of your therapist. "How much more?" you wondered, hardly imagining how it could be possible.

There was a long, long pause; you worried he hadn't heard you. Looking at him again, you found him watching with a tight jaw.

"How much more can I take, Dr. Crane?" you asked again.

"You can take anything I give you," he answered tensely.

A shiver ran up your spine; "F-fuck," you whimpered, and your walls pulsed around your fingers.

"You're going to come, aren't you?" he noticed, and you nodded. "Good."

You gasped.

"Very good," he egged you on, seeing the effect it had on you; your head tilted back as you pushed your fingers into yourself faster. "You're doing very well for me-- now I just need to see you come. I just need you to make yourself come."

"Yes, yes," you chanted, hips rocking, moans growing louder. "It feels good-- fuck, Doctor, I--"

"I know," he soothed, "just let it happen. Keep going. Come for me."

It hit you all at once, a heavy and numbing feeling that left you shaking on his couch; he purred out his praises, telling you how good you were doing, and it only made the feeling stronger.

When you exhausted yourself, you stilled; there was a moment of silence, just your panting filling the air, until you found the strength to meet his gaze again. He was smiling at you sweetly, looking oddly similar to how he always did at the end of a session. "That was incredible progress," he said proudly. "You should be very impressed with yourself."

You sighed as you nervously pulled your fingers out of yourself. "I-- do you have a tissue I can wipe these with?" you asked nervously.

"No need," he said, "you should taste it."

"Wh-what?" you choked out, your face even warmer than before.

"Just taste it-- I think you'll like it," he encouraged.

Though you hesitated for a second, you brought your wet fingers to your lips and gently licked off some of the sticky substance left behind.

"What do you think?" he asked.

"It's sort of strange," you admitted.

"It's an acquired taste," he shrugged, making your heart pound as you realized just from the look in his eyes that this was absolutely a taste he'd acquired... then again, there must have been a reason that he knew even better than you how to touch yourself and make you come.

Then, it was impossible not to imagine what he's like when he does this off the clock-- the way he touches and pleasures the women he takes to bed. You imagined him with his fingers inside lace panties, whispering in her ear about how good she was being for him; you imagined him pushing two inside and promising to give her more; you imagined him making her come, over and over, until he's satisfied and brings those soaked fingers to his lips and calling her delicious.

And even though you tried not to picture who that woman would be, you couldn't help but wonder if he'd like a woman like you... if you were the type he'd do that to, if you weren't his patient.

"Thank you," you blurted out. "I never thought I'd be able to... thank you. It's been a long time since I was able to feel that."

He nodded. "Thank you for trusting me," he replied. Glancing at the clock, he sighed a little through a polite smile: "Oh, look at that, we're out of time for today. This has been a really excellent session."

"Yeah," you agreed as you both stood up, "definitely."

"And next week, we can discuss the next steps in your recovery."

You raised your eyebrows when you heard that, already almost halfway out of the office. "Next steps?" you noticed.

"Yes," he agreed, "you made great progress, but there's still so much more for you to learn."

[nogenderbee]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ 𝔻𝕖𝕤𝕚𝕘𝕟𝕖𝕣 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕋𝕒𝕚𝕝𝕠𝕣 ₊˚ˑ༄

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ anon request: Hello! May I request Lucifer, Solomon, Barbatos, and Simeon with a s/o who's a master at textile design?

I can't help but imagine how grateful Lucifer would be if they tailored him 5 different suits.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Hii! Yeah of course! Not really sure about it, the first 2 chars at least but... I really hope you'll like it at least a little bit nonetheless!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ fluff

✧ Lucifer is indeed so so glad for your tailoring skills

✧ do you know how many suits of his are devasted because of his brothers antics and how many of his suits got holes in them because 2 of his brothers decided to cut holes in them one day?

✧ and if you agree to fix that for him, he'd be even more glad, you'll literally have his gratitude and special treatment!

✧ and he's definitely gonna try watching over his brothers to not use you too much... but then again, he'd probably be doing that himself!!

✧ the second you stop minding and asking you to sew something becomes neutral... be ready to be given those tasks more often... here curtain needs some fixing, here another cloth, here tablecloth, really anything!!

✧ he may accidentally give you too much so feel free to tell him about it! You already did enough so he'll accept it and try to not give you this much at once again

"Y/N, could I ask you to fix another suit for me? Allow me to explain... Satan and Belphie thought it was amazing idea to..."

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

✧ Barbatos is a bit similar to Lucifer... but at least more gentler and understanding

✧ trust me, he knows how having too much on your head is like so he won't ever do it to the one's he cares about

✧ he doesn't even come to you with his own clothes! He literally will ask you to sew a curtain or something and not to save money, but because event is coming and service is getting late...

✧ you'll most likely have to tell him you can handle more work because otherwise, he's a bit too scared to overwork you... especially that you're human so your limit must be way lower than his!

✧ I have a feeling like he can sew himself but sometimes just doesn't have time for it... so that's when you come in! But mostly, you'll get the "I can do it myself in free time but thank you" answer

✧ if anything, he'd be more interested in you designing textiles! It's obviously most important part, so he'll honestly have lot of respect for what you do! Even if your work doesn't match his style... he'll still support you in what you do

"I'm sorry for interrupting you but may I ask you to fix this for me? I apologize if it's too much, I can explain everything in 10 minutes... I only need to finish few tasks first."

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✧ I feel like Solomon saw many who could sew and even tried that himself! He just never got that skill somehow and always ends up poking needle against his finger but accident... which leads to him eventually dropping whatever he was trying to sew

✧ but he can't decline it's useful skill so when he sees that his lover can do that, he's more than happy to watch you!

✧ but he does get nervous sometime that you'll also hurt yourself with a needle... which leads to him distracting you from time to time unfortunely...

✧ believe me, he has many clothes that need to be tailored but he never really had time to give that to someone or skill to do that himself! So if you notice that and offer to tailor one of his clothes... he'll pull out pile of many others... GOOD LUCK

✧ basically, he's just gonna be impressed and concerned... but if you decide to teach him... he'll be more than happy!

✧ he may actually not get it as easily as you'd want him to but a bit of more patience and he'll get it eventually

"Hey watch out! You'll hurt your-... Oh... well I guess your fingers are skilled enough to avoid it... well that's impressive... Would you mind sharing this little secret with me?"

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

✧ Simeon maybe doesn't have too much experience with simple sewing, but he seems like the kind of person who'd enjoy embroidery!

✧ and those two are close enough + he most likely can sew basic things like fixing clothes, so you actually for few topics

✧ when he discovers you're tailor and textile designer, he'd be actually more interested in second part, just because he already knows enough about first part

✧ he'd be happy to see your scratches compared to the final product or maybe even see some materials used in actual clothes if you have some

✧ it's most likely first time he sees someone doing that with so much passion so he'll definitely listen to all of your possible rambles

✧ in fact, instead of just nodding, he also asks to the questions to show you how interested he is!

✧ but like mentioned before, he can only see simple things so when he sees you seeing clothes, he's also really impressed! And most likely will ask if he can watch you work, to both learn something maybe and watch over you so you won't hurt yourself accidentally

"This is the first design? Wow... it's not even slightly similar to finished product... but it also had a potential... what if you release it but with few adjustments, since it didn't suit you in the first place? For example..."

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@vodka-glrl - come get your soft angel~

[escapingrealtiylovinginsanity]

Sonny Carisi: Reliving His Detective Days (NSFW!!!) 

I don’t know how this happened again, but Sonny decided he had to have another story right now and it came out of nowhere. How many of you liked my other Sonny story so quickly shocked me. It was such a confidence boost to my just starting to write again heart. Thank you!

 

Dominick Carisi considers himself a smart and observant man. It’s what made him a good detective and now ADA. He knows that something is going on as soon as he opens the door of his apartment. The furniture had been pushed around and there was an area that looked like an old-fashioned blanket fort taking up the other half of his living room. He set his briefcase down just as you were walking around the corner. He looked at you with furrowed brows, “Doll-?” 

“You must be the detective they sent to check on the 488.” Sonny pauses looking at you appraisingly still trying to figure out what was going on. The code you gave, like most others, he still had memorized from his time as a cop.  

“Petty theft?” He says it like a question even though he knows he is correct. You make your eyes go big as you try to look innocent playing with the ends of your hair. 

“That’s what they say, but I swear detective I didn’t steal anything.” You look down at the floor shifting guiltily then look back up at him. You bite your cherry-stained bottom lip. “But I understand that you have to do your job and check.” Your eyes locked with his blue ones. There is a still silent pause. You stood waiting to see if your boyfriend would pick up the game that you had started. One that you couldn’t stop thinking about since Sonny had admitted that he sometimes missed his detective days. It had brought a pantie-wetting image of a younger version of him with a badge clipped to his hip that you couldn’t seem to shake. 

“My job?” He repeats slowly almost to himself even as he looks at you. You tilt your head at him. “Right, my job...as a detective.” He still looks a little unsure of himself as he walks farther into the living room. Even though he is unsure what you are playing at exactly his cop brain exactly what he needs to do. A quick frisk. “I need you to turn around and put your hands on the wall.” 

“Okay, detective.” You turn to put your hands on the wall. You feel his body heat behind you as he gets closer but leaves a respectful distance. You are disappointed and slightly amused when his hands start patting you down quickly and efficiently. His hands barely feel your chest before moving on and sliding down your arms. You can't help but smile and shake your head at your sweet man. You shift pressing your hands more firmly against the wall and use the leverage to push your ass back into his crotch grinding into him. You hear his sharp intake of breath then he curses but otherwise stays still. “Everything okay detective?” You rub against him with your ass as turn your head to look back at him. His blue eyes are staring straight into you. They are focused his pupils dilated with lust. It’s clear that he now knows what game you are playing. You give him a mischievous smile.  

“Yeah, just try and hold still.” His body presses tightly against you as he starts to pat you down again. This time his touches are firm and lingering. He caresses down your right arm to your shoulder making your skin break out in goosebumps. Then gives a similar treatment to the left arm. His hands come to the top of both your shoulders again before sliding down your chest. He does a quicker pass over your breast for the first swipe. Then slides down your stomach before going back up and cupping them both in his hands squeezing at the ample flesh. He can tell the bra that you're wearing is thin and lacy even through the fabric of your shirt. He swipes his thumbs and can feel the peaks of your nipples hardening under his ministrations. His hands make another pass, and he pauses when he feels something hard on the edge of your bra just under your armpit. “Oh, and what’s this?”  

“I don’t know what you mean detective.” He pulls at your arm, and you turn to face him. 

“If you don’t fess up, I’ll be forced to strip-search you.” His face is serious, and you press your lips together. You feel the heat still burning low in your stomach from his attention on your breast and the bulge in his pants pressing against your ass.   

“I don’t have anything.” He sighs, “But if you have to, can we at least go in the dressing room?” You gesture to the blanket fort-like structure. You see a brief look of amusement flash across his face before regaining his seriousness. 

“That would be for the best. After you.” He follows you into the surprisingly spacious ‘dressing room’. “Alright, I need you to remove your shirt for me.” His tone is all authority and no-nonsense. You feel a shiver run down your back. Sonny in charge is hot. You nod and make a show of slowly unbuttoning your shirt. He holds eye contact with you until you get it completely undone and slipping off your shoulders. His eyes drop devouring the newly exposed skin. Your bra is barely there. Just a few scraps of red lace that do nothing to contain your generous size. He can see your nipples through the fabric. It takes him a minute to regain his thoughts and even start looking for the hard object that he had felt. There it was, slid on the corner of your bra right under your armpit, one of his tie clips. The metal shined tauntingly at him. “And what’s this?”  

You shiver at the sensation of his fingers dragging purposefully against your skin as he removes the clip from your bra. “I have no idea how that got there.” 

“Really, that’s what you're going with?” You press your lips together to keep yourself from smiling at his sassy attitude making an appearance. It was one thing to listen to him in court where he had to weave it into carefully chosen words and another to get a full dose of it. You felt a pang of sadness that you didn’t have the pleasure of meeting Dominick when he was still a detective. “So, you were just browsing when, what, it happened to fall down your shirt at just the right angle to catch perfectly onto your bra? Wow, that’s a hell of a party trick.” 

“Detective-” 

“Since I already found something on you, I’m going to need you to remove the rest of your clothes. To make sure nothing else managed to... cling onto you without your knowledge.” You nodded and reached behind you to unhook your bra. You don’t undo it, instead, just fiddle with the band behind your back. “Problem?”  

“The clasp is stuck.”  

“Really,” His tone is deadpan but there is mirth in his eyes. He is clearly enjoying your back-and-forth. “Do you need help?” He sighs stepping closer, his chest brushes against your sensitive nipples making you bite back a moan. One of his hands finds your lower back, right above your jean shorts. It glides up your spine and you lean into him washed in the smell of his musky cologne. His hand reaches the clasp and with one quick precise movement, the clasp opens to your bra and it falls forward catching between your chests. “There,” He whispered into your ear, “Now take off your shorts.” Your body trembled against him, a flood of arousal sweeping through your core.  

He steps back and you let the scrap of lace fall to the floor in front of you. You barely have the button undone when Sonny sees another glint of silver metal. Your shorts hit the floor and he gets a clear view of another tie clip attached to the equally small red panties that you are wearing. It is on the waistband pointing straight down to your soaked cunt like an arrow trying to find its mark. 

His hand moves to cup your heat and you bite back a groan. He rubs the soaked material with his fingers, his thumb rubbing purposefully against your clit. You close your eyes forehead pressed gently against his chest panting. One of his long clever fingers slips underneath and enters your core. He curls it expertly and your hands come up to his hips needing something to hold onto. He pulls back and removes the tie clip from your panties with a butterfly touch that has you arching into him wanting. He steps back and holds the two clips up, “Looks like I’m going to have to take you down to the station.” 

“Is that really necessary?” You walk forward to him again pressing your hand firmly against his chest. “Can’t we just... work something out between the two of us?” You start your hand’s dissent down toward the now obvious bulge in his dress pants. He catches it between his own. 

“Are you trying to bribe a law enforcement officer? That’s a felony.” You look up into his blue eyes and pout your lower lip. “But if it really is a misunderstanding, then as two willing adults maybe we can figure out a way to... resolve the issue.” You understand his meaning and give him a smile.  

“Oh, very willing detective Carisi.” You push him backward towards the one chair that you had left in the space. He gets your point, and he sits down. Your hands find his length through his dress pants, and he hisses. You undo his pants, and he lifts his hip so you can pull them and his boxer down. His cock is hard and leaking pre-cum. You drop down to your knees and lick a stripe up the underside of his cock before lapping the head. You sink your mouth father down on his cock and he groans. You start bobbing your head sucking. You bring your hand up to start stroking the base that you can’t fit in your mouth.  

His hands go to your hair making a makeshift ponytail, his long fingers curling into the nape of your neck. You look up and make eye contact with him. He pulls at your hair urging you faster. You increase your speed and start swirling your tongue around his dick. “Fuck,” You are encouraged by his groans and are really getting into it when he pulls on your hair hard. You moan loudly as his cock is released from your mouth. “That’s a good start sweetheart, but I’m going to need you to really convince me that this is a misunderstanding and that this isn’t going to happen again.” 

You stand up and climb onto his lap straddling him. Your chest brushes against his still fully clothed one. You put one hand on his shoulder for balance and use the other to pull your panties to the side and notch the head of his dick on your entrance. You both moan as you slide down his length. You roll your hip and keen in satisfaction when you get some friction on your clit. His hands come to your hips to steady you as you start bouncing on his cock. After a little adjustment, you find the perfect angle. One that hits a sensitive spot in you, his cock deep inside of you.  

Carisi’s eyes get hypnotized watching your breast bounce as you fuck yourself him. His hands find one before he catches it in his mouth. You groan and start riding him harder, your hand finding the hair at the nape of his neck. You keep pace but after a while your legs start to burn with strain and you can feel yourself slowing down. Carisi runs his hands up your back and tightens his grip to hold you still as he starts thrusting roughly up into you. You feel your orgasm begin to rapidly build. His thrusts continue to slam into that sensitive spot in you and you cry out his name as your orgasm rips through you. Your core clamps hard on his cock your arousal dripping from you coating his cock and thighs.  

His hands slide down to your ass as he gets close his thrusts getting sloppy as he grinds you down into him. He comes squeezing your ass cheeks tight enough to border on pain. You rock against him as he continues to pump his cum into you with shallow thrusts. He presses his face onto your shoulder as you cling to his back, locking together in your mutual pleasure. You guys played the game, and both won.  

“Is that what you wanted doll?” Sonny asked when you pulled back to look at each other. His hands smoothed some of your hair before he thumbed away some leftover red lipstick that had survived the messy blowjob that you had given him. You sigh happily, 

“That is more than I wanted Sonny.” You lean up and kiss him, so softly in comparison to the rough sex you two had just had. He lifts you up so that his softening member leaves you before setting you back down on his lap. “I’m sad that I missed you being a cop.” He chuckles leaning back in the chair. 

“I promise you; it was nothing like that sweetheart.” You laugh, pressing your forehead against his. “But I’ll give it to you, that was even better than reliving my old glory days.” You smile giving him a few soft kisses.  

“I’m just happy you played along.” You admit, while it may not have seemed like it you thought maybe Sonny wouldn’t want to roleplay. It was something you had always wanted to try but never felt secure enough with your partners to try.  

“I’ll admit I was confused at first,” You blushed feeling slightly embarrassed for blindsiding him.  

“Sorry, I didn’t know how to ask. I’ve never done anything like this before. Besides you caught on pretty quick.” 

“Yeah well, when you grinded on my cock like that it was a little hard to misinterpret.” You laugh wiggling again on his lap and he swats your ass playfully. “How about we take a shower and then order some takeout and watch a movie on the couch?” You sit up straighter in his lap. 

“That sounds great but I’m going to have to put the living room back together again first.” Sonny laughs at that rubbing your back. 

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll do it...or you know what doll, we could just pull the couch in here and watch, the TV is still seeable. Besides I always wanted a date night like that, reminds me of my teen years. And who knows, maybe this time I will actually get lucky during the movie.” 

“You're insatiable.” You tell him, getting off the chair and pulling him to his feet. You press a kiss to his lips. "But I bet I could make that happen. Gray sweatpants turn me on.”       

[sunderingstars]

☆━━━━━ ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☾ ◯ ☽₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆ ━━━━━━☆

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ CHARACTER STORY & BRUGHEL POISSON ⌝

sampo analysis m.list

— what the stars reveal: interpretative analysis, elation!sampo

— word count: 2.4k

— overview: (as of 2.5) an assessment of sampo’s character stories and his identity as madam brughel poisson. (yippee !! it’s madam poisson time !!)

☆━━━━━ ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☾ ◯ ☽₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆ ━━━━━━☆

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ CHARACTER DETAILS ⌝

First, I want to note his description as “silver tongued.” It seems to serve a dual meaning — “silver tongued” references eloquence and persuasion, but also brings to mind “tongued,” which is a word often associated with snakes and serpents (think “forked tongue” and the history of snakes as persuasive and temptatious literary figures). This further cements Sampo’s connection to snakes and the deception often associated with them.

We have some more obvious information — i.e. that’s he’s always around when there’s profit to be made — but it’s also notable how his information network is in and of itself a form of snare or “trap.” Similar to the name of his bonus ability (which is literally “Trap”), Sampo is skilled at setting up the exact circumstances needed to lure people in, to make them need and be dependent on him. As such, his “customers” enjoy (or are perhaps afflicted by) a dual relationship: one where they get what they need, but are also subject to Sampo’s duplicitous nature and the danger of being deceived. Coupled with the next line that mentions Sampo’s penchant for turning “customers” into “commodities,” there is a distinct aura of dehumanization that occurs, the treating of clients not as people but as potential profit. 

Personally, I feel this may mirror his potential relationship with Aha. If he is Aha or has an interconnected relationship with Them, this deception could be a direct result of Their existence; the constant dehumanization of others for the “profit” of the joke. If Sampo is an Emanator or other such high status, it could be that his own treatment of others mirrors the way Aha treats/has treated him. It is possible that Aha’s chaotic and powerful nature made Them difficult for Sampo to refuse when offered/seeking help, and now Sampo is part of a sort of cycle — one where he is treated and dehumanized for the “profit” of a joke, then (either as part of his personality or an unwilling byproduct of Elation), turns that commodification onto others.

My main takeaway is the specific phrase “not necessarily a good thing.” This is a phrase I often associate with Emanator and otherwise non-Aeonic theories; the idea that Sampo is “favored” in some way by Aha, but that attention is not a good thing. After all, Aha is known to often be callous and cruel in Their jokes, and if Sampo has ever been the butt of them… well… suffice to say that wouldn’t be very fun for him. I feel like this phrase may be holding up a mirror to Sampo’s own relationship with Aha, although that might also be a stretch.

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ PART ONE ⌝

Before diving into the story proper, I want to address the name itself — Brughel Poisson. From what I could find, Brughel isn’t even a name that exists (which is very fitting). Instead, the closest name I could find is “Bruegel,” which means “small village” in Dutch. I feel like this is in line with Sampo’s character and Madam Poisson’s position as an alias; it fits nicely into the “uncanny valley” territory of a name that is close to an already-exisitng one, but is just different enough to not be real. Additionally, “Poisson” is only one letter away from “poison,” which further associates him with snakes and venom. The name itself means “fish” in French, which may also link to Sampo’s name meaning “water rapids” in Finnish. Overall, the name symbolizes two main things: the “fakeness” of the identity, and the running snake motif. Just like Brughel Poisson doesn’t technically exist, so too does the name not “technically exist.”

Now, here are some things we can gather from Part One:

Brughel Poisson, Sampo’s alias, is positioning herself as a reporter from the “Crystal Daily.” As far as I am aware, this news organization does not exist either.

Sampo is aware of and directly interacts with the “Dark-Blue Scam Victims’ Association” as Brughel. 

Not only that, but he directly starts a conversation about himself under the guise of an interview, and lets the “interviewee” vent their frustration until he catches the information he needs.

Sampo is, as always, very skilled at directing the conversation where he wants it to go, seeming to make up details like being interested in social justice causes completely in the moment and still managing to sell the act.

Throughout the “interview,” Brughel takes the other person along a winding series of questions, knowing exactly when to let them rant and when to step in to ask questions. It is, to put it simply, masterful trolling. Not only is Sampo finding out information he’s interested in, but he’s basically playing one big joke on the unsuspecting “interviewee.” This very much links back to the “silver tongued” aspect of Sampo’s character. Brughel and Sampo are identities interchanged efficiently and effortlessly. Most likely, Sampo has been doing this for a long time.

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ PART TWO ⌝

My main takeaway from Part Two is how Sampo and Brughel are not only so effortlessly interchanged, but how any given role is interchanged for another just as flawlessly. Brughel’s position is almost a complete 180 from the last part, going from an enthusiastic journalist to a straight-laced officer. There is no prose or identifying marks beyond dialogue — all we have to go off of is the spoken word. Even though we can’t tell how much Brughel has changed her appearance since the last time, we can tell that the tone of the dialogue is completely different. Despite Brughel being “faceless” in a sense, she gives off the strong aura of a guard, talking in shorter and more clipped sentences than her journalistic persona. She is able to put up such a convincing facade that even her slip-up of saying “expensive” instead of “valuable” goes unnoticed, and she is able to successfully answer the private’s doubtful questions with answers that convince them to go on leave. 

Again, we see how Sampo is able to answer questions on the fly, often making up details as he goes that sound so rock-solid most people barely question them. I feel like these stories just put me in awe of how in the world he does it. Even with a greater power like Elation potentially aiding him, there’s so many moving parts that come into play when impersonating someone who doesn’t even exist. He’s basically making up entire personalities on the fly and executing them flawlessly. It also shows how quickly he is able to change personas. If he’s Brughel, after all, who else might he be? Who else might we have come across that looks slightly familiar yet different? If something this complicated is all a game to him, just a means of “profit,” then what is he capable of when he gets serious?

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ PART THREE ⌝

This is the first part of the story where we get a perspective that doesn’t include Brughel directly. Instead, we spectate as two would-be thieves realize they’ve been screwed over by Madam Poisson. Piecing together the other stories, they seem to follow a narrative arc — Brughel hears about the spice factory, plans to steal from the 3rd Arsenal, then hires the people in this part to attempt a robbery on the spice factory as a diversion, allowing Sampo to slip into the 3rd Arsenal unnoticed. (At least, that’s my interpretation.) Again, there’s so many moving parts here, yet Sampo seems to have them all clearly sorted out in his mind. 

There’s also a narrative distance created between us (the reader) and Sampo/Brughel — in the other parts, Brughel was directly involved in the events taking place. We could see her speaking and read what she was saying. However, we now see her from an outside perspective, as well as the sheer anger and confusion that comes from the thieves realizing they’ve been set up. In my opinion, this is a really cool way to show the impact of the real heist — Sampo raiding the 3rd Arsenal — by placing us in the same position as everyone else. We aren’t “in” on the joke anymore, just spectating like everyone else. Just like the thieves and the guards, our attention is pulled towards the spice factory rather than the real scene of the crime, leaving Sampo the only one who truly knows what happened there. (It’s also a bit self-aware, as if Sampo is intentionally making the decision to turn the audience’s heads away as well.)

Again, it’s just flawless. Even though the thieves eventually find out they’ve been duped, it was all part of the plan. Everything still works out for Sampo — by the time anyone realizes what’s been going on, it’s too late. And, as we see in the next part, he even gets away with it too.

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ PART FOUR ⌝

The last part of Sampo’s character story takes place after the Silvermane Guards have caught on to something suspicious going on. The conversation Madam Poisson has with the guard that comes by her place is very telling — once again, she is able to deflect any questions with ease, putting on the air of a worried and confused citizen. She even invites the guard inside to look for the wigs — something that seems very bold with the situation she’s in. However, everything still goes smoothly, and on top of that she gains enough trust from the guard to figure out what happened (although she likely already knew anyways). It’s even a bit of a reveal on the audience’s part; despite knowing Poisson is the common thread among all these stories, we only get her name at the very end — if not for that, it would be easy to mistake her for a new character since she acts so different from the other stories.

However, there is something slightly off to me. When the guard is asking Madam Poisson about the wigs, they seem very strict, even saying “Refusal to submit may result in serious consequences…”. However, as soon as Poisson invites the guard inside, they seem to do a 180, saying “… that won’t be necessary. I’m sure you have nothing to hide.” While this could be Sampo’s disguise working incredibly well, the change seems just abrupt enough for me to be suspicious. After all, if the Guards are so stringent on finding wigs, why wouldn’t they be willing to look inside themselves? This could be because they don’t have the proper warrants (which Sampo knows and exploits), or the guard is personally too shy to be put on the spot like that (which Sampo knows and exploits), or — and this is getting more into theory territory — it could be that Sampo is able to subtly distort people’s perceptions of him. He doesn’t need much, just enough to shift that guard over the line of “suspicious” to “probably has nothing to hide.” Either way, Sampo/Madam Poisson gets away with everything, at least for now. 

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ WIGS ⌝

Before I give my overall thoughts, I want to briefly address the wig situation. In Part Four, Poisson says “As you can see, my hair is great,” drawing direct attention to something you’d think she’d want to divert from. While this could be a case of master gaslighting (leading with the assumption “as you can see”), my theory is that there are no wigs to begin with. The reason Poisson wasn’t suspected is because Sampo can most likely physically change into different forms. We’ve already seen physical transformation with other Masked Fools like Sparkle, and if Sampo is operating in the higher echelon of Elation, there’s a good chance he can do the same even without his mask. 

It would explain why the guard says the male thief “changes appearance often” rather than saying something like “assumes this identity often” — there’s the implication that it isn’t just two identities Sampo is switching between, but rather a multitude of different faces under similar names. This means that his impersonation as a reporter, human resources officer, and regular citizen may have slight alterations that makes them difficult to tell apart, making it even more difficult for the Guards to pin down who exactly the thief is. Clearly, she would have to look different enough from Sampo to avoid being caught. This may also be why she is so confident in inviting the guard in — she knows there aren’t any wigs in the house because she doesn’t need to use them. Additionally, her drawing attention to her hair would be a point in her favor, since the guard would be able to see she wasn’t wearing a wig.

I would say this is probably the strongest evidence for a theory that Sampo can shapeshift. It isn’t entirely confirmed, but I think it still has a good chance since we’ve seen it from other Masked Fools in canon.

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ OVERALL THOUGHTS ⌝

Overall, I find these character stories to be perfectly emblematic of Sampo — persuasive, slippery, and mysterious. It’s important that we don’t get a story about Sampo directly, but rather the personas he takes on when trying to reach an ulterior goal. These stories haven’t really shown us Sampo, but rather kept us at arm’s length. Unlike other character stories, we’re still not sure what he’s truly capable of or even who he is, what he likes beyond profit, or what his deeper goals or motivations are. We’re placed in the same situation as everyone else, looking from the outside in. We’re not even given prose or narration, only dialogue. In a self-aware sense, it’s almost like he’s trying to hide from us directly. The stories are sprinkled with implications and hints, but it’s always something we as the reader have to piece together before getting answers. Perhaps that’s part of the game to him — making everyone wonder, including us. 

It also shows that he has a penchant for switching faces and identities. This is something that Aha is directly stated to do, and whether Sampo is Aha Themself or a different higher entity of Elation, it makes sense that he would also effortlessly assume different identities for his own goals. Unlike Sparkle, he is able to do this without a mask, potentially speaking to a greater power that allows him to do so. Again: if this is what he can do without the mask… just what can he do with it?

☆━━━━━ ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☾ ◯ ☽₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆ ━━━━━━☆

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ જ⁀➴ thank you for reading to the end!

☆━━━━━ ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☾ ◯ ☽₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆ ━━━━━━☆

© analysis by sunderingstars. do not copy, repost, translate, modify, or claim my work as your own.

[moodymisty]

Rushal ending up being loyal to Sevatar and the NL legion makes sense. Brutal torture (and probably a whole lotta brainwashing) will do that to a person. People who went through abuse and didn’t get any treatment for it will very likely get attached to their abuser, and even support them sometimes.

But if he gets attached to you? (and my brain has already cooked up an idea on how that could possibly happen. So just hear me out).

Let’s say that you’re a serf belonging to the Night Lords, and your duties consist of cleaning the areas where the higher ranking astartes live. For serfs belonging to other chapters this would be seen as a privilege, but here? Not so much. Nobody wants this type of job, it’s too risky, you’re one wrong move away from being turned into a flayed plaything for one of your lords. But when a serf of higher rank promoted you to it (probably to escape getting the job himself) it was inescapable, the life fate handed you didn’t allot you any complaints. So you decided to accept this “gift” instead of risking possible death via whip.

And you could say that you were good at it. You stayed quiet and unnoticeable, your hands never spilled what you were carrying, and even in your throes of fear you managed to keep a boring enough facade that the Night Lord threatening you lost interest. Otherwise what you did could be easily described as dull, because once you got over the sight of human remains, all the job really consisted of was nonstop cleaning till you heard the sound of heavy footsteps and ran back to the serfs quarters as stealthily as possible.

The monotony changed however, when you heard a rumour of a new astartes joining the higher ranks. Through the chatter of your fellow serfs you found out that he used to be a Raven Guard. Which… surprised you. Before the heresy started you had heard from past friends who worked with other chapters that the Raven Guard, while similar in appearance, weren’t as monstrous or sadistic as your masters. Some even called them “kind”.

You wondered if that’s even possible. And if it is, then how could someone like that join the Night Lords?

A few days later you were mopping some grand hallway. Well, it must have been grand in the past, now it’s just covered in gore. But any cleanup you were doing stopped abruptly. You weren’t alone in this place. A familiar terror ran through your body, a space marine was watching you. And so you sat there, trying to seem as small as possible in hopes that he would eventually go away. After what felt like hours you considered the option that maybe you were just tired and your mind was conjuring things that weren’t there, and it didn’t feel like a Night Lord, so what harm could be done if you just turned around and-

You saw him. But despite his pallid complexion and large black eyes you didn’t recognise him, so it must be the new Raven Guard then, you thought. After which you realised that you had been staring at him for far too long, and bowed apologetically. But it was as if he didn’t seem to notice, instead wordlessly beckoning you somewhere with a gesture of his gauntlet covered hand. Which you followed, it would have been far more foolish of you to deny the request of one of your masters than to simply do as they said. So as he lead to down some dark corridors and right into his quarters you tried to think as positively as you could. Maybe the people you once knew were right? Maybe he won’t torture or kill you? Maybe he truly is as kind as they claimed his kin to be.

His request was simple, he sat down on his bed and gestured for you to take off his power armour. The higher up serfs taught you the basics behind it just in case a scenario like that ever came up, even if you truly hoped it didn’t. Being that close to an astartes put your life on the line, and if one tiny armour piece got broken you’d be just another blood splatter on the wall. But from what you saw he didn’t seem to mind, most of the time he wasn’t even focused on you, preferring to stare off into the distance. But when he did look down you chose to smile at him, risky yes, but deep within your heart you hoped that he wasn’t as bloodthirsty as his cousins. Once you took off the armour it felt as if you were done, until you saw him fumbling with the zipper on his neck. The dirt and armour oil made the glove parts of his bodysuit far too slippery to grip that small bit of metal. So with a mumble of wanting to help you put your hands on his neck, reaching to grab the zipper of the suit-

You hear a sharp intake of breath when he flinched away from you, if you weren’t so close to him you wouldn’t have even noticed it. And in his eyes you briefly saw… fear? No, not fear. That’s stupid, astartes can’t feel that, you must have just been projecting. And you’re sure you were right when he leaned back towards you with that usual tired expression. What did surprise you though, is what you see when you take off the top part of the bodysuit. He’s littered with scars, some healed, most not.

And you get the bright (and very impulsive) idea on how to stay on his good side.

You take out a pretty large jar of antibiotic cream from your robes, you used it after each day of work to make sure you didn’t get an infection. And while you knew that space marines didn’t work that way. The frightened-friendly way you spoke seemed to convince him into letting you apply it on him, sitting silently as you massaged it into the skin of his arms, torso and face. After which he stood up from his bed and unlocked the door, silently letting you go.

For you the interaction was.. confusing. He didn’t hurt you, but he was also incredibly strange. You hoped that whatever good reputation you built up with him was worth wasting half of your antibiotics on.

For him it was the first show of genuine kindness he’s felt in such a long time. In his surprise at your smiles and soft touches he managed to let you go.

How foolish of him.

But don’t fret, dear. He’ll find you soon. And he won’t be letting you go this time.

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSS

y'all put so many tasty treats in my ask box, you all know exactly how to manipulate me into making stuff XD

[ms-scarletwings]

A Speculative Analysis About Irkens No One Asked For: Part I

Dem green fellas. Them lil guys, they’re an interesting pack of critters, aren’t they?

I used to really fixate on them back in middle and high school, stronger than everyone else seemed to be on the spazz in the dog costume. Jhonen Vasquez’s worldbuilding has always towed a very fine line between nonsensically ridiculous and surprisingly logistical, and this balance is typified in everything we know, and can infer, about these bug-eyed imperialists at the center of everything Invader Zim. So, let’s infer, and take a crack at it since no one’s stopping us anyway- More specifically, some thoughts and ponderings I had about how they “tick” as a fully realized society, not just a sci-fi monster..

A Homeworld Obscured 

Now, to really understand the history and “deal” of any civilization, or any animal, usually you would turn to their environment first to give you some handy clues and context.

Small problem, though: We actually don’t get much in the way of direct, explicit showing or explanations about Irk itself when it comes to the show. This makes some sense, given that the whole of what they do worth showing (and the most notable members of their kind) exists almost entirely off-world. So instead, we mostly find out more about Irk from what Invader Zim does tell us about its natives. As far as confirmed canon goes, we know that Irk’s atmosphere appears red, its surface is entirely and densely urbanized, and it’s long been depicted in starmaps with a set of Saturn-like rings. 

  This last fact is probably the most interesting, because planetary rings are usually something we, in our own little solar system, would only associate with massive, gaseous worlds, not terrestrial ones.  What These rings are made of is really anyone’s guess- could be ancient debris from natural satellites, Water-ice particles, maybe even some form of artificial defense network put into orbit by the Irkens themselves. If they aren’t artificially created, this would suggest that Irk has quite a strong gravitational field- greater than that of any of our neighborhood’s rocky planets. This is the common theory I personally like to subscribe to, because it would also go hand and hand with explaining why the average height of the irken race is so much shorter compared to that of an adult human. It fits neatly into the “why” question for the sort of athletic skill and agility we’ve seen invaders able to demonstrate on Earth, too, for otherwise being of meek physical prowess. It even adds some credible context for why the very achievement of growing to a more substaintial height is both uncommon and associated with extreme survival fitness to them.

A Fun fact that’s about to be relevant: “Rayleigh scattering” is the term given to when light wavelengths become shifted and scattered through an atmosphere medium. Long story short, it’s the reason our sky has color to it during the day. Stay with me on this.

I’ve also seen some people take a go at the red-looking surface, guessing a different gas makeup than the elements on earth responsible for our blue skies. I’m gonna go against the grain here, and actually contest that. I think that Irk’s atmosphere is coincidentally extremely similar to Earth’s. We know well enough that they both have a similar composition of gases breathable to both societies, given that Zim, Skoodge, and Tak all seemed pretty comfortable without some form of assistance on the same dirtball as humanity. Instead, I propose that Irk’s magenta skies are actually the symptom of heavy pollution. Sunsets and sunrises in the real world are known to make the sky appear more reddish-orange, even pink, as is. Usually, Rayleigh scattering has the light From the sun appear bluish in full midday, but during low sun, the rays are coming at an angle making them have to travel farther before reaching us, so you have already stretched light waves getting the same treatment from the air and, well, a higher frequency blue turns down to the lower end of the spectrum, red and yellows.

And wouldn’t you know, air pollution can actually do the same thing. THIS is why there's a scary ass orange haze known to accompany the presence of massive forest fires and volcanic eruptions. Earth’s most polluted cities even experience longer and redder sunsets for the same reason. 

Left: Image of a lilac sky over a Chinese city experiencing heavy smog levels Right: Intense red haze spotted over towns in Indonesia in the wake of rampant rainforest fires

On Earth, Zim stared directly into the midday sun without hesitation, nor concern that it would literally blind him. I think the planet hue and this is plenty enough to guess the likely case that Irk’s surface probably doesn’t get a lot of direct sun on an average day as is, and the sheer amount of unbroken cityscape that covers the homeworld would be the more obvious suspect than just having a more distant star from them. If they overcrowded to the point of their expansion, why build their civilization deeper into the ground, instead of up? Maybe there's actually a good reason or two they don’t raise their young topside.

A Psychology Molded for Domination

As well, I want to chirp about real world space again for a second. So, anyone up to the buzz in geek circles and aware of the math on the matter probably got the memo: humanity is almost matter-of-fact certainly not alone in this sandbox of a universe (or at the very least, we won’t always be alone). Like, about as certainly as we were about Black holes’ existence before we up and observed the real thing. And while it’s probably not going to happen in any of our lifetimes, sci-fi and media generally have been trying to take a crack for years at what the theoretical first contact with an alien civilization is going to look like. 

And I’m gonna go ahead and say it, 

As “cliche” and Hollywood as the conquering little green/grey dudes trope might have become… it’s actually not a wild take after all. The little and green thing, that’s creative liberty, but the part about them being hostile and something we may not actually even WANT to be aware of our existence? That’s an idea that even the smarty pants experts have been fearing the realistic odds of, even including the late Stephen Hawking .

The Evolution of intelligent life is a hard thing to really pin down and predict, given that we literally only have the one example to study. Under the right conditions, what reason would another advanced species NOT have to be equally as expanding, as exploitative of its resources, self-destructively short-sighted, and as supremacist as humans have already demonstrated themselves to be capable of? There is a lot of very interesting literature that suggests BOTH empathy/altruism and or aggression/tribalism to be (at least in the short term) very rewarding characteristics for an intelligent social species to develop.

And that’s the thing about the behavior of the Irken Armada I think has always been fascinating. Their drive to be the biggest definitionally invasive species across the cosmos is framed exactly as irrational, bumbling, and pointless as it deserves to be; however, is it not just the extended conclusion of every empire that has existed here on Earth, if only it had survived long enough to achieve the technology of Irk? And yet, it’s reminiscent, like the rest of their design, to the far from sapient, yet very real world creatures they appear to be most inspired by: hive and colony building arthropods. Whether the next point I'm about to touch on should be seen as a rejection of that resemblance, or further elaboration of it is anyone's to answer.

Transhumanism, or.. Transirkenism, in this case?

Like the specifics of what Irk really looks like and how it realistically works, a bunch about the aliens’ physical biology is left to scattered tidbits to ponder and piece together into a bigger picture. A few of those tidbits are as follows, drip-fed to us over the course of aired and scripted but never released episodes:

+ From the mouth of Vasquez himself, it has been confirmed that Irkens lack any form of reproductive organs. Instead, they rely on industrialized facilities to grow and produce them in a factory sense.

+ Yet curiously, they still demonstrate something akin to sexual dimorphism, or at least the cultural existence of masculine/feminine genders, where females are aesthetically set apart by the presence of curled antennae, eyelashes, and higher voices.

+ Irken lifespans are able to stretch far past that of an average human’s (Zim himself is cited to be around 2 centuries old in earth years).

+ Invader class soldiers have been implanted with surgical upgrades to their eyes.

+ Every Irken is fitted with a PAK that serves a wide array of utility and life-sustaining functions for its owner. These units are physically and neurologically connected into an Irken’s spine from “birth” and contain a cybernetic backup of an individual’s personality, assigned occupational programming, and memories. 

That’s not close to a complete list by any means, but it’s got the gist of what I want to dwell on most, starting with the last bit; because the PAK isn’t done true justice in one statement. It is not an extra addition the way a prosthetic enhancement is, and it is not a tool the way armor and weapons are. It is literally analogous to a vital organ to these aliens, and they are shown to die within 10 minutes of being forcefully detached from their own.

The degree to which Irken bodies and minds rely on this technology, and how seamlessly they are integrated into it, ALONG with their completely artificial life cycle all directly points to the fact that their civilization has advanced into a cyborg-like stage of evolution. It may even be on track to reach a post-organical peak in due time, phasing out more and more of their “vestigial” and feeble meatsuits until they’ve become a true drone army. And that actually begs some huge questions now that we realize we will never know how much of the Irken anatomy was ever originally a natural feature. An Irken’s own brain practically comes secondary to the superior efficiency of the supercomputer on their back, capable of literally holding their own essence and being in the form of code. A code that can preserve the “self” even in the event of meatbody failure, being uploaded post-mortem into the Control Brains’ collective data and repurposed for a future generation of workers. It absolutely would stand to reason that the species has continued this biological self-tampering to other heights- extending their lifespans, incorporating untold amount of mechanical upgrades into their bodies, and maybe even genetically engineering their smeets to be so compatible with this technology.  The control brains themselves are a mesmerizing reflection of this change over time- the result of an evident shift long ago from technology serving them, to them serving the directives of computers. When you really pay attention to the control brains’ role in the series, it comes clear to you who (or what) is really in charge of their society. The Tallest still maintain their symbolic/cultural importance to the Irkens, but outside of their part in spearheading the active intergalactic invasion, they ultimately are figureheads when it comes to actually running the homeworld and ruling the lives of Irk’s inhabitants. If I had to bet money, I would say the Brains may even have the ability to choose and predetermine the next Tallest when a replacement is needed. But what does that make the Tallest? A meaningless title and transformation, chosen arbitrarily by the AI overlords? Well, I don’t think so, actually… but maybe that, and more on the “meaty” morphology of their race is all a tangent fit for another day and post ;)

[lovingdabeessss]

You think Taiyang has a favorite child?

💖If it isn’t my favorite tagger back again💖

Thank you for asking this, this is actually something I’ve been desperately wishing for an excuse to talk about because my defense for it isn’t great

Anyway back to the question sorry

Yes I do 100% believe he has a favorite

There’s no doubt in my mind it’s ruby

I think he loves them both of course obviously but he FOR SURE favors Ruby

We know from his interactions with Yang he tends to project onto her things about Raven that aren’t necessarily true for her the way he talks when they spar like her whole thing is anger and strength and that focusing on that is her biggest weakness, which is true for Raven, however yangs problem is her self sacrificing nature and obviously he sees Raven in her even more cause they look similar and it’s just.. she’s not someone tai has purely positive feelings for considering all the betrayal and abandonment not that he doesn’t still love her at all but you know

He definitely projects things about himself onto her as well and considering NONE of the fucking STQR family likes themselves ESPECIALLY not taiyang “11 year long depression nap” xiao long and so he’s got that against her and then she got herself abandoned putting more fuel to that particular fire

And I think while they were dealing with the death of summer when Yang started taking on roles she was too young to take he just… let her… and then eventually those things were just her job as the oldest and a lot of things became her job and he kinda slipped into seeing her as more help with Ruby then someone he was supposed to be raising

And like even when he recovers he had to get back into parenting which is hard so he probably started out just doing stuff that were already needed, and Ruby was her own problem cause she needed stuff but only really accepted getting help from Yang at least emotionally depending on how bad you believe tai’s shut down to be and otherwise she’d get things from qrow whenever he wasn’t on missions from Oz so she was just hard to get to accept anything from him

Yang despite being very supportive of the idea of him recovering and finally someone helping her out a lot and having a parent at all again… she is incredibly independent and doesn’t really seem to need anything that he knows how to give and she also genuinely probably just doesn’t know how to have a parent anymore, she’s so used to being the parent and she doesn’t remember getting to really be the kid

So she’s just kinda reduced to third parent

There’s also the fact that Ruby looks exactly like summer who he did leave off with good positive feelings for and then she’s all that’s left of her

AND Ruby’s the youngest speaks for itself possibly got that “guest in the house” treatment youngest sometimes get where they aren’t treated as much as part of the family and more of a guest which is nice but isolating even if she tried to help Yang with chores Yang would get in trouble for having her do it kinda thing

However I do think that tai would’ve wanted Yang to back off of raising Ruby so much so he could be her dad and she would maybe accept him as that more hence like the Ruby queendom things of how she won’t be there for her forever but Ruby doesn’t want him to and Yang doesn’t fully trust him to

IDK THO just messy unorganised family dynamic thoughts

IN SUMMARY!!!:

I think Ruby’s his favorite I think he loves them both but is struggling to parent in wake of the lose of his wife and struggling to relearn how to do it after his recovery and Yang struggles to even be parented and they speak NONE of these emotions to each other cause they’re allergic to talking about their feelings ever

[billyrussoapologist]

Challenging Challengers - why one of the most popular films of the year is also one of the most divisive

I don’t get the criticism for Challengers. I get just disliking it, that’s valid, personal preference and all. But some of the hate is so bizarre. I’ve seen people saying it glamorizes cheating (considering all three characters are miserable, pretty objectively terrible people, I don’t see it), that it’s gay p*rn (there’s not a single s*x scene in this movie), that the character arcs are incomplete (those last few shots say a lot. Besides, it’s not like they were suddenly going to become great people after being toxic for so long).

The most baffling criticism I’ve seen is calling this movie a chick flick, geared towards women, a woman’s fantasy. I can assure you that no remotely sane woman is watching this film and seriously wants to be like Tashi. The characters are complex, the cinematography is insane, the score is the best I’ve heard in a while. It’s not even like the central protagonist is a woman (although even if that was the case, I don’t see how that would automatically make it geared towards women). While all three are main characters, I would argue if there was one central protagonist, it would be Art. The movie starts with his daily routine, seen through his lens. Although they’re all morally questionable, he’s arguably the most relatable and has the strongest conscience. Also, both of the male leads are attractive, but in a realistic way. Sure, they’re shredded, but that fits in context with their characters as professional athletes. Otherwise, they’re attractive in a very real, obtainable way, which is nice to see. If this was a “woman’s fantasy,” then surely they would have the more stereotypical razor sharp features of types like Rob Lowe or Zac Efron. There are films with similar relationships that aren’t seen as strictly “for women.” Match Point, Vicki Cristina Barcelona, Y Tu Mama Tambien, The Dreamers (which contains explicit scenes of incest in addition to the threesome relationship), all of which are heavier on the s*x/romance than Challengers, and none of which are seen as geared specifically towards women.

So why does Challengers get this treatment? As far as I can tell, it’s just because a lot of young women have very vocally praised this film. When women, especially young women it seems, latch onto something, the perceived total value goes down. It also raises the question of why it’s seen as an insult that a movie would be geared towards women, like it’s somehow inferior and less prestigious than movies geared towards men. I believe a lot of men have watched women latch onto this film without knowing much about it or understanding it much, and think that women must be glamorizing cheating or leading men on. When in reality, women just love a great movie.

If you read some of all of this post, thank you. It was lengthy, but I had to get this out. I’m always up for a discussion, if you agree or disagree, feel free to share. Just please keep it civil and polite.

[corinthianism]

last kiss | sam winchester (5)

pairing: sam winchester/f!reader additional tags: best friends to lovers (?), fluff, angst warning(s): implied/referenced non-con

masterlist | previous chapter | ao3

CHAPTER FIVE: TEN SECONDS

You didn’t know where you were. You didn’t even know how much time has passed since Lucifer took you away. He stashed you in some house. It looked like a normal suburban home, except it seemed he used his amped-up archangel abilities to essentially create a whole pocket dimension for you. On a surface level, every day felt like a normal day. Night and day passed just the same as it would in the real world. You had neighbors, and they were both familiar and unfamiliar. “Dean” lived right across the street whilst “Bobby” and “Cas” lived right next to you. The other houses were occupied by random people you didn’t know. It was like a bad djinn hallucination.

The routine was always the same: wake up, eat, try to kill time, sleep, repeat. In the beginning, you thought you were just having a bad dream; that Dean, Bobby, and Cas were really there with you. However, when you tried talking to them, they were way too out of character. Dean acted like a stereotypical macho man with absolutely no personality whatsoever, Bobby’s parental instincts towards you were taken to new heights in an almost cartoony way, and Cas was a helpless imbecile.

Then there was Sam. Sam was the only one who acted like himself. You’d wake up next to him, eat meals with him. You did everything you normally did with him, except in this weird world, you weren’t hunters. It felt eerily similar to the dreams you’ve had before. 

He kissed you, touched you in ways the real him would never have the courage to do, but you refused to sleep with him. No matter how many times he tried to initiate it. He wasn’t real, and this was all wrong.

He would leave at exactly 9am everyday. Those first few days, you tried finding a way to escape. You tried talking to your “friends”. You tried hurting them. You tried pleading with Sam. When nothing else worked, you tried killing him. 

And he was dead. For a while. The very next day, you woke up next to him again, as if nothing happened. After that, you resigned to just doing whatever you could to not be present in the moment. You played the role of housewife, because there was nothing else you could do.

Until now.

You woke up again, expecting to see the same cream-colored walls and smell the same ever-present smell of lavender. Instead, you were in an unfamiliar room. 

The first thing that hit you was that it was rancid compared to what you were used to, as if somebody tried to hide the smell of a dead body with some berry-scented perfume. You turned around, and there was Sam. He donned a fully white suit, his hair uncharacteristically slicked back.

“You’ve been very impressive,” he winked at you, taking his hands out of his pockets to give you a mocking slow clap. This was Lucifer and when you looked into his eyes, you couldn’t find a trace of Sam. “For someone so in love with him, you did a bang-up job of… well, not banging him.”

You didn’t answer.

“Aww, come on now. Giving me the silent treatment?” he stepped forward. “What if I told you… he could still hear you if you talked to him? Not that he would be able to answer. Not unless I wanted him to, of course.”

That got your attention, and it gave you a boost of courage that had otherwise been taken from you. You ran towards him, grabbing him by the collar.

“Sam? Sam! Listen to me, if you’re in there, you’ve gotta fight it! Take back control, Sam!” you pleaded desperately, your last attempt in getting your best friend back.

His expression changed, and suddenly, he grabbed your shoulders. His body language and the cadence of his voice changed as well, and for a moment, all hope was not lost. It was as if the clouds parted to reveal the sun. This was your Sam.

“You’ve got to get out of here,” he pushed you away, looking around frantically for an exit for you to use. “You have to stay away from me, you have to—”

You took several steps back, turning around to grab the doorknob, only to find that the door was just part of the wallpaper, “What—”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” it echoed from behind you. You turned around slowly, and “Sam” was standing perfectly still and upright once again. “Naughty Sam. Naughty you.”

He approached you, stopping right in front of you before he looked you up and down like a predator assessing its prey.

“So, it’s just you and me now, princess,” he tilted your chin upward to have you look at him. “You know, I can see inside Sammy’s head, and my, my, my… the thoughts he has about you aren’t as innocent as you think they are.”

You scowled at him, even if it was unnatural for you to do such a thing to Sam. This wasn’t Sam anymore, you had to remember that.

“Remember… Jessica? Oh, I bet that one broke your heart. The love of your life going off to some fancy Ivy League and getting a pretty blonde… well, if it’s any consolation, he was always thinking of you. I’m pretty sure that’s the only reason he could get off whenever he was inside her.”

He laughed, as if he said the funniest thing in the world. He traced hearts and random shapes on your cheek, his laughter dying down into a contented sigh. 

“You and I are gonna have a lot of fun together,” he finally said, his hand sliding down to your neck, and then to the collar of your button-down plaid shirt. He unbuttoned it once, “Sammy’s screaming at me right now. It’s very annoying.”

He unbuttoned another one, “I don’t see why he’s not enjoying this more, honestly. After all, this is what he wanted. If anything, I’m doing him a favor.”

He leaned closer, and you desperately tried to slow down your breathing. Your heart was pounding, so much so that you were almost sure that Lucifer could hear it. You always wanted Sam, but not like this. Lucifer knew that, and so he would do exactly what he wanted. 

Lucifer, in a mission to ruin you forever, took more and more of your dignity with each button he removed. Finally, when your skin was on display for only him to see, a wide grin appeared on his face. Sam’s face.

“You’re never going to be the same after this,” he promised, and all you could do was hide somewhere in your mind where even the devil couldn’t find you.

▼△▼△▼△▼△▼

Lucifer took you to a cemetery, whispering in your ear about how once Michael showed up, you were gonna see the greatest battle in history. Of course, Lucifer would win.

Ever since that night, you felt like a prisoner of your mind. It was both your safe place and your punishment. You tried to remind yourself that it wasn’t Sam; that it was Lucifer who stole your dignity. Sam would never… Sam could never hurt you the way Lucifer had.

Even in the presence of two archangels, you stayed silent, and accepted your fate. Half of the world was gonna burn to the ground when this was all over, and you just hoped that your death would be quick. You felt sick when Michael looked at you, something akin to both disgust and pity written all over his face.

Then, the familiar rev of Baby’s engine reached your ears. Your head shot up, seeing the Dean riding the Impala into the graveyard, right in front of Michael and Lucifer.

Dean got out of the car, his eyes immediately flickering over to you in worry, but he pressed forward and marched right up to the two archangels. 

“Hey, we need to talk.”

Lucifer scoffed, “Dean. Even for you, this is a whole new mountain of stupid.”

“I’m not talking to you. I’m talking to Sam.”

“You’re no longer the vessel, Dean. You got no right to be here.”

Dean turned to Michael, his voice filled with sincerity and regret, “Adam, if you’re in there somewhere, I’m so sorry.”

“Adam isn’t home right now.”

Castiel and Bobby arrived, with Cas throwing a can of holy fire at Michael to keep him at bay. This irked Lucifer, who then snapped his fingers. Cas exploded, leaving behind bits and pieces of blood and flesh.

“You know… I tried to be nice, for Sammy’s sake. But you are… such a pain in my ass,” he threw Dean against the windshield of the Impala.. Bobby shot at Lucifer’s back, prompting Lucifer to twist his hand. Bobby’s neck snapped.

Your eyes widened, two of the people you cared about was just murdered by Lucifer, and you’d be damned if you weren’t gonna do something about it. You ran towards Lucifer, trying to get him away from Dean. With a flick of his hand, you were thrown against a nearby tree. The impact was enough to knock you out for a few seconds, your vision falling in and out of darkness.

You laid motionless on top of the pile of dry, dead leaves, unable to do anything but watch. Lucifer got closer to Dean, grabbing him by the legs and then punching him.

“No!” was what you wanted to say, but nothing came out. You could feel a branch poking at the skin of your back.

Lucifer kept punching Dean, over and over until Dean’s face was barely recognizable.

Then something happened.

His fist was still raised in the air, and you could see the internal war raging inside him. His hands shook, and his grip on the collar of Dean’s shirt loosened. There was a glint in his eyes, one that told you whether or not the body you were talking to was Lucifer or Sam. You held your breath, eyes lasered in his face, not sure if the person in front of you was your Sam.

For him, it felt like time had stopped. There was no apocalypse. No Lucifer. No Michael, no nothing.

All he could see was the toy soldier stuck in the Impala’s ashtray. That was enough for him. The sight of the toy, the memories etched into the car, the image of his bloodied brother in front of him who, even then, was still unwilling to fight.

The memories didn’t hit him like an outside force, they came from him, blossomed from a place he forgot about. Locked in a treasure chest he kept in the deepest corners of his soul, where not even the devil could touch it. Clear as day, he relived every single one, and with each memory, the clearing grew wider. He could crawl out and push Lucifer back. 

He saw it all: the good, the bad, and the ugly. He remembered sticking that toy in the ash tray, and the stern, drunken scolding that he got from his dad soon after. He remembered him and Dean etching their initials on the car door. He remembered the fireworks. The countless nights of booze and fastfood takeout. Lying down on the hood of the car to watch the stars whenever they were in between cases. All the times Dean saved his ass, yelled at him, laughed with him, and everything in between.

His eyes met yours, and the sight of you broke his heart all over again.

Sam didn’t have much time. This much he knew. He could feel the mind-melting, soul-breaking pain of Lucifer scratching at his walls— no, he was tearing them down, howling to be in control once more. Sam could hear every single scream and whisper that Lucifer was filling his ears with and it was too much. In his gut swelled the familiar hatred that the fallen archangel harbored for humanity, and it wasn’t the boiling hot rage that most people would expect. It was the kind of hatred that flowed through each and every single blood vessel in your body; the kind that only a being as old as the devil could feel. It was quiet, deadly. It was the kind of hatred that consumed you, built up from eons of being locked in a cage like an animal. Lucifer blurred the lines between his anger and Sam’s, and that scared the younger Winchester.

But standing there with you, seeing you as if it was the first time, Sam thought he could bear it, if only a little while longer. Standing there with you made it clear that that hatred couldn’t possibly be his own, because how could he ever hate you? No, Sam Winchester loved you, and it came to him as easy as breathing.

More memories broke through, and this time, they’re of you. The way your eyes crinkled when you smiled. The sound of your laughter in the early morning. The time you helped him make a girl jealous in 8th grade when it was really just an excuse to be close to you. The time you kissed him when you were as high as a kite after getting your wisdom teeth removed. 

If he closed his eyes, he could feel the ghost of your lips on his and pretend that everything was alright. Lucifer would not take this away from him.

Finally, Sam lowered his fist and gasped as his senses were flooded with everything. You could almost sob in relief, if it wasn’t for the fact that it wouldn’t be long until Michael and Lucifer came back with a vengeance, but nothing could ever be worse than what would come next. Sam took several steps back, rummaging through his pocket to retrieve the Four Horsemen’s rings. Your muscles ached as you tried to get back up, but nothing could trump the pain in your chest as you watched Sam slowly back away from Dean.

It’s cruel, probably the cruelest thing that the universe threw at you. You had seconds of clarity, and they were the seconds counting down to the love of your life’s suicide. Sam looked at Dean, and then at you, and you almost wished he didn’t. For a moment, you thought that maybe this was all some one sick, twisted nightmare and that you were gonna wake up any minute now. You blinked, but Dean was still beaten and bloody and Sam still felt so far away. There were tears in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. Even now, he still tried to keep on a brave face for you. It almost made you smile. A tiny part of you hoped that maybe the apocalypse wouldn’t be so bad as long as you went down with him. Almost as if you wanted Lucifer to win just so you could keep Sam in the only way you could. The thought passed as quickly as it came, all while feeling like a knife had been twisted in your stomach. 

“It’s gonna be okay, I got him,” he breathed heavily, stepping away from you and Dean even further. “We’re gonna be okay. Everything’s gonna be alright.”

He sounded as if he didn’t really believe himself either.

He pulled out the Horsemen’s rings from his pocket and threw them on the ground, chanting the incantation to open the cage. The ground shook, and before you knew it, a large pit had opened up in the soil. From where you stood, all you could see was a black void, but you knew what it was. It was hell. It was the deepest, darkest, most depraved part of hell and Sam was going in with a one-way ticket. 

“Sammy,” your voice broke. He turns his head to look at you again. You didn’t know what to say. Did you want to stop him? Jump into the pit with him? Profess your undying love for him?

None of those options seemed right. The clock was ticking.

Ten. 

You could see how scared he was, his hands trembled with the weight of what he was about to do. You wanted to go up to him, hold him, tell him that he was going to be okay, but you couldn’t. It was dangerous, yes, but you knew that if you took even just one step closer to him, you wouldn’t let him go.

Nine.

“I’m sorry,” he called you. “For everything.”

He took another step back. He knew what Lucifer did to you, and it crushed him. It took everything in him to not go to you and protect you the way he wanted to. To beg for your forgiveness.

Eight.

“Sam, please,” you begged, though you weren’t sure what you were begging for. You looked over at Dean, trying to get him to back you up. World be damned, you won’t fucking lose Sam. Dean could only stare back at you, his head hung low in defeat. He was letting go, and he was telling you to do the same.

Seven.

The air seemed to grow heavier, and Sam yelled at you and Dean to stay back. Even though it broke your heart to do so, you did as he asked, scurrying over to Dean’s side to help him get away from Sam. Dean grunted in pain, clutching your hand that was on his chest. You could feel the rapid beat of his heart under your palm.

Six.

Sam called your name, and nothing was more important. You stood up, heart clenched in anticipation. 

“I need,” he took a deep breath. “I need you to know.”

Five.

“Need to know what, Sam?” a cry escaped your lungs. 

“That it’s always been you,” he smiled sadly, voice barely heard over the chaos. “It was always gonna be you.”

It was odd, the way the heat rushed to your cheeks. The way your own heart beat twice, thrice as fast than it already was. You could almost let the world around you fade away. There was only Sam.

He spoke again, a little louder, a little braver, “You know that, right?”

Four.

“I know,” you tried to stifle your sobs. His admission hung in the air, filling your lungs with everything that was him. He loved you, and you always knew. 

“That’s my girl,” he kept smiling, determined to make sure that that was the last thing you saw. He didn’t want you to remember his death. He just wanted you to remember him. 

Sam knew why you didn’t say it, and it was for the same reason he did. It was better this way. Saying those three words would set things in stone, and especially now that he was seconds away from his death, he didn’t see the point of hurting you that much more.

Three.

Michael returned, a wave of unseen energy washing over you and Dean at his arrival. His anger distorted Adam’s young face. Panic overtook the anger, however, when he noticed just how close Sam was from jumping off the edge.

Two.

Sam closed his eyes, letting gravity pull him in. Michael screamed, rushing over to stop Sam from falling in. For a split-second, you feared the worst would come to pass. That Michael would save Sam and just resume his world-ending battle with Lucifer.

Sam’s eyes shot open when Michael’s hands tried to get him away from the pit but immediately, his gaze flickered over to you.

You, with the pain of a thousand lifetimes weighing on you, and the cuts and bruises and tears to show for it.

You, with the laughter that pulled him out of every nightmare on the days when his own mind wouldn’t let him rest.

You, with the proud, contagious smile after every hilariously bad joke, all because you wanted to see him smile, too.

His heart was yours, perhaps it had been since the beginning, but Sam knew one thing: this world was better with you in it.

With all the strength he could muster, he grabbed Michael by the lapel of Adam’s jacket, and pulled him into the pit. 

Sam was gone.

One.

When the pit closed up and left nothing but the Four Horsemen’s rings behind, you forced yourself to move away from Dean and approach the rings, kneeling by the spot where the pit just was. The world was safe again, though you didn’t know how long that would last. The grass was soft under the palm of your hand, as if there wasn’t a massive doorway to hell there just moments prior. You let yourself cry; to truly pour your heart out for someone who wouldn’t be able to hear it.

You would never have another morning coffee run with him or another all-nighter spent on researching monster lore. No more pop culture debates or stitching up each other’s wounds. You would never make him smile, ruffle his hair, or hold his hand again, nor would you feel him keeping an eye on you while you slept. 

Since before you hunted your first monster, Sam had been by your side. Now that you didn’t have him, it felt as though you weren’t a whole person. Like your very soul had been torn apart and its pieces were lost in the wind, never to be complete again.

Castiel returned, seemingly resurrected by none other than God Himself, and immediately helped Dean and Bobby get back up on their feet, all shiny and new. When he walked over to you, his hand reaching out to touch your cheek and heal all your wounds, you moved away. Your face was littered with small cuts from being thrown to the side by Lucifer, and you were sure there would be a massive bruise on your back from the impact.

You still refused to be healed. 

“Let it be,” you told Cas quietly. He frowned, hesitant to heed your request, but he obliged anyway.

Seconds. It only took seconds for you to lose everything. You didn’t know what you were feeling; if only there was a word, any word, for you to explain to Dean, Cas, maybe Bobby, the way you felt everything and nothing at the same time.

Truth be told, you were lucky to have only lost one person, but the lingering question in your mind was why did it have to be the person who meant everything to you? There was no answer, and the silence was the worst of it. Sam wasn’t there to tell you that he’s okay, and he won’t be able to ever again. Your injuries ached. You almost welcomed the discomfort, desperate for anything to keep you grounded.

A large hand rested on your shoulder. It was Dean. You shared a look with him, a silent exchange of “I’m sorry” and “I’m here” to each other. In your grief, it was easy to forget that Dean had lost his baby brother, just as you had lost the love of your life. Moments later, Bobby stood beside the two of you. Three people brought together in grief that they weren’t sure they could ever recover from. You knew then and there, that you’d spend the rest of your life picking up the tiny little pieces of your heart, trying to be okay. Because that’s what Sam would’ve wanted.

You would never know so many things. The pain he’d go through. The fact that as he fell into the darkness, white-hot flames burning his flesh, he thought of you. Poked and prodded, stabbed and skinned, broken and put back together just to be broken again. What Sam knew, even if you didn’t, was that he’d make this same choice again and again because he knew you would be okay.

Sam Winchester died, and it came as easy to him as loving you.

[slutpinks]

Lisa keeps lying on the table. Enjoying the aftermath of the meeting. She keeps cleaning her own face, licking their cum off her fingers. The entire company knows what she does. Preciously 85%. That's why Lisa is still somewhat cautious. She doesn't want to run into the CEO while her face is covered with loads of cum.

Something similar happened already. Luckily, the two guys in the recording studio didn't seem to mind at all. Lisa came in with two loads on her face. And she left with two inside her pussy.

Lisa quickly leaves the restroom, searching for the ideal spot. She can't just strip in the hallway and wait for someone to fuck her right there.Entering the elevator, she bows to the three people inside.

"Hi Lisa, how are you doing?"

"I'm doing well. How are you?"

She smiles at the two women who work on the fifth floor.

When her eyes land on the man standing behind them, she knows what is going to happen as soon as they are alone.

The number five lights up the small display on the wall. The two women leave the elevator. Not even waiting for the doors to close, the man starts to unbuckle his belt.

"Why are you not on your knees yet?"

"My bad, sir."

Lisa drops to the floor, a little worried about being caught.

The man's pants hit the floor quickly after. His cock springs free, landing on her face.

Lisa licks along it's length, before she starts to take it into one hand. She starts her blowjob, feeling the elevator going up.

"That's a good girl."

Lisa smiles with his cock in her mouth. Her tongue glides along his length, before his hand rests on the back of her head. The young woman only has a moment to brace herself.

He quickly starts to fuck her mouth. Lisa's gags fill the otherwise quiet elevator. Her hands rest on her thighs as she takes the rough treatment, trying to fit all of it inside her mouth and throat.

"Fucking hell."

He sighs after a couple of minutes, taking his cock out of her mouth.

Lisa is able to catch her breath as he slaps her cheeks with his member.

"Mr. Kwon told me how he fucked your ass this morning. Can't wait to find out if you are still tight enough to make me cum."

Lisa feels fade heat inside her ass as he reminds her of this morning. Her asshole hasn't been fucked this hard for the last couple of days.

"Where do you wanna go?"

"What do you mean?"

He lifts her off the ground, before turning her, Lisa's back facing him.

"Here? What if-"

Lisa immediately stops talking.She will make this her new thing. Getting fucked in the elevator.

She feels him pressing against her, pushing her face into the metal wall. Her torn jeans shown in the image above are off within seconds, exposing her lack of underwear. The plug with the small pink stone on it greets him as he slaps her right ass cheek.

"Mr. Kwon is so considerate. Making sure that everyone can enjoy your tight ass."

Lisa moans as she feels him slowly pulling out the anal plug. It has been inside of her for hours. Her hole is barely letting go.

The young idol feels him push inside of her just a second later.

"Fuck. How are you still this tight?"

"I'm doing my best, sir."

Lisa let's out a deep moan, when he starts to pound her ass. At first slow, than increasing his pace. The elevator starts to shake a little in the rhythm of his thrusts.

Her cheek is pressed against the wall, his hands knead her ass cheeks. Lisa feels how her nipples poke through her shirt, grazing against the cold metal.

In that moment, the elevator stops. Lisa closes her eyes, praying that it's not the CEO. The door opens.

No one says a thing. The door closes again as the man behind her keeps fucking her ass.

After three or four thrusts, he suddenly pulls out. Because her face is still pressed against the wall, Lisa doesn't know who got on. She hears someone fumbling with their belt. A moment later, she feels someone pushing past the tight ring of her puckered hole.

"So deep."

She can't help but moan. Lisa can feel how this cock is slightly longer, but also lacks a little in girth. Not that she is complaining. The first man started to bruise her insides already.

Despite not knowing who he is, Lisa feels him hitting new depths. He seems to rearrange her guts with every powerful thrust.

The first man watches as the new guy fucks Lisa into the wall. Her nails scratch at the surface, her eyes still shut tightly. The scene in front of him slowly brings him towards his orgasm.

"I need another turn."

The two men switch places.

"Fuck!"

Lisa yelps as he shoves his whole cock into her without warning. His thrusts are hard and deep, making her moan and squirm. She can feel him pulsating inside her ass.

"You make such a perfect cumdump."

Seconds later, he buries himself deep inside her asshole. Lisa moans as she feels his cum flood her insides.

"Fuck, that's hot."

The other guy talks for the first time, but Lisa doesn't know who he is.

Once the first man pulls out, he starts to put his pants back on. The second one let's his hands roam over Lisa's cheeks.

"Have fun."

As the door opens, the first man walks out, leaving her with the man behind her.

"Oh fuck!"

Lisa moans loudly as she feels him entering her again. As he fucks her, the other man's cum gets pushed even deeper into her. She can feel how the warm liquid makes its way through her body.

"Such a nice ass."

The man praises her, before giving each cheek a spank.

He takes a step closer, which pushes him even further into her ass. Lisa is now completely filled. With a low groan, she has to stand on her tip toes.

"You don't need to clean your face after a facial. You're getting more than enough anyway."

With that, he pulls out.

Lisa feels how a trickle of the other man's cum leaks out of her ass. Most of it is so deep inside of her that it's gonna take days, until she is completely empty. Not taking into account that she might get her ass filled multiple times a day.

"Time for another one, whore."

He spins Lisa around. Her already weak knees are unable to support her weight. She slides down the wall, finally squatting. A moment later, the man paints her face with warm cum. It stains her nose and cheeks, until the last drops land on her lips. Lisa gladly licks off as much as she can, moaning at the taste.

[schizosupport]

hi glitch! no pressure about answering, but I don't have any other schizospec people I can talk to, and I need some support

recently I got diagnosed with Other Specified Schizophrenia Spectrum Disorder/Psychotic Disorder, and I'm starting weekly therapy to get a specific diagnosis and treatment, and I have an evaluation with a psychiatrist to look at meds next week.

the thing is, I'm having a hard time wrapping my mind around this. I've gone through my whole life up to this point trusting my sense of reality, and only had a brief period of time when I self diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder (never confirmed).

AND I've started to look into medication, and the one i'll probably be prescribed is Ablify, which seems to have a ton of scary side effects. I'm still in school, and while I'm almost certain I can get accommodations, I can't be sure, and adolescents can be cruel.

truth be told, I'm just scared. I see posts about the opportunities taken away from schizospec people, and I haven't been living under a rock, I know all the stigma that surrounds what I know now to be my community.

like I said, no pressure to answer, I just want some advice and support from a more experienced member of the community.

Hello there!

It's been a while since you sent this message. I hope you are feeling at least a bit more settled in the situation?

It's always wild to get a diagnosis that you didn't necessarily expect. For me, my initial "psychosis not otherwise specified" diagnosis also completely blindsided me, and so did the later schizophrenia diagnosis.

It's true that there's a lot of stigma and bullshit surrounding the schizo spec disorders, but I also want to highlight that schizo spec people are awesome, and we're strong and we got each other's backs. In my experience the psychotics and schizos are the underdogs of not only the psychiatric community but also the mental health community. But that also means that you get a unique opportunity to learn who's a true ally, and to practice your own understanding and acceptance of other marginalized experiences on the edges of life. In my experience our community is one of the most compassionate and accepting communities around, probably bc we know intimately what it's like to have weird experiences and be judged for it. Try to navigate towards a place in your head where you align yourself with other marginalized people and don't get caught up in bitterness about a uniquely fucked situation, but instead take it as a sign to be kind above all else and to think about who else in society might be in a similar position, to find your allies and take comfort in unity.

In terms of the stigma, I think something to keep in mind as a newly diagnosed person, is that to the extent that it's possible, you are the owner of the information about your mental health. And you don't owe anyone disclosure. I'm not saying to necessarily always try to be vague, there ARE safe places and safe people and there ARE situations where you might genuinely broaden someone's horizons by introducing them to the notion that "we are here. We're one of you". But there are also plenty of situations where you don't wanna share that information. You can let them assume, you can omit, you can even lie.

People frequently assume that I'm autistic, and I don't correct them. Maybe I'll respond with "something like that" if they ask. Especially in professional settings. Unless you want someone to know, it's none of their business what exactly is your deal.

In terms of medication, the important thing to keep in mind is that it helps some people, but it is also not (shouldn't be) mandatory to take meds because you're schizo spec. You can give it a try, but if it isn't doing anything helpful for you, you are not obligated to take it. The psych might act like you have to and like it would be completely irresponsible not to. Try to take it with a grain of salt. Think about your life so far, the symptoms that have led to this diagnosis. Can you live with that? Do the meds help with that? Are there side effects and are thet worth it?

I take a low dose of antipsychotics myself and I've tried without and with higher doses too. For me at this point in life, a low dose of antipsychotics are helpful to me.

I'm happy to hear that you've been offered therapy!! I hope that it's any good, and that it's been helpful. I definitely think that therapy (with a good therapist) can be instrumental in dealing with psychotic symptoms.

In the end I just wanna say.. it's gonna be ok. I know it's a big scary new thing, but it is also actually "just" a word that's descriptive of symptoms that you already had. This doesn't mean that you are bound to get worse. Try not to panic about looking for new symptoms or symptoms you might've missed. This can make you worse, as you start questioning all of your experiences and whether they are psychotic. It can be little things like questioning every little sensory input. Try to remember that hallucinations aren't inherently harmful and sometimes you don't have to know if it's real or not bc it literally doesn't matter.

It can often be tumultuous when you've just gotten this diagnosis, before you get used to the thought and reestablish your sense of identity and reality with this in mind. But there is a point of peace coming up. It does normally get easier, as you settle into this new understanding. And you can help yourself along by reminding yourself that the only thing that changed is that you were given a word to describe your existing experience.

I hope any of this is helpful. Best of luck, anon,, and welcome to (knowingly being a member of) the community!

[pepsiiwho]

Okay. Finished a checks watch 10 hour play session, without breaks no stopping.

General thoughts down below. No explicit spoilers but tone/ personality reads ahead. Long post :D feel free to respond or whatever.

One of the first things that I just wanna get out the way is, personally, the cast in this game is leagues better than the first game. And that isn’t like a “ah they’re all hotter!” (They are, don’t misconstrue what I’m saying, they very much are hotter then the first game’s cast) but the general vibe in cross roads is significantly more intresting. Which is very funny considering the set up, on paper, is remarkably similar. Hard ass, stuck up head of the place, shade mentor, emo bitch who hates you and wants to fuck you, emo boy who wants to fuck you, nebulous little thing that doesn’t serve a purpose but allows for comedic relief, hypnos, skelly— the works.

Yet the energy is wildly different. Idk I’m not like a zagreus dick rider or anything he’s cool but you really can feel how lonely the house of hades was in comparison to cross roads camp, a place not even half its size. The affection for Mel is like bursting out the seems of everyone around her (save Nem) and it goes past duty or obligation to the cause. It really feels like they all love each other dearly. I think that was so missing in the house of hades, intentionally or otherwise, but it felt so… cold? I always knew hypnos got that treatment because I’m crazy, but looking back that’s how everyone acting with zag too. They just talked to him. lol.

Ahhh to this point but a little bit to the left— hectate and Mel’s everything is incredibly compelling. Mel clearly and obviously seeing her as a mother figure, the only one she’s ever known and loving her deeply for it and frankly fighting in this war partly out of duty but more for her family she DOES have now, and then Hectate who knew Mel’s family and knew what they went through and refuses to take the place of “mother” when Mel has a mother, even if she isn’t here right now. But instead of detaching and making sure no real connection is made she’s so kind. She’s so supportive and loving and sweet and you can tell she cares about Mel so much. Zag’s mom came home and like, never gave off the vibe she cared even half as much. There’s a few moments when Mel tries to convey this love and this almost… mm… this idea that she doesn’t … need? A mom because she has one (hectate) and the witch shuts it down soooo quickly and Mel is always so dejected and it hurts but it’s sooo good. God. I want more of that. For the whole game. Please

Moros is a fucking delight. Like absolutely delightful. He’s sweet and polite and unassuming and kinda just sorry for taking up space but in the dignified way. I love everything about him. I am writing this checks watch May 6th, 2024 and at this point he is lovely. Assuming he doesn’t like, back hand hypnos he’s top 5 easy.

Nemesis is… unfortunately funny and charming. I hate emos I hate the bitchy dark thing I hated Meg for the same reason. This character shouldn’t work for me…. But it does. She’s the worst. I routinely cursed her out when she came on my screen. And yet. I think where Nem succeeds where Meg (and than) failed, is that nem genuinely is like, an asshole. And that’s endearing. She insults Mel and undermines her and talks down to her and clearly they have crazy beef. Meg and than just felt sooo put on with their back and forth with zag and it got old fast. Nem is a delight. If she doesn’t like, back hand hypnos she’s staying in my good graces.

Odess… has the least for me to say honestly. He’s sexy. Not much more than that. I adore how smitten he is with Mel, he clearly adores her.

Hypnos. Hand waves. No need to rehash that. Don’t touch me.

As for the oylmpus gods, they’re all as amazing as before. Apollo is my favorite, obviously, and he isn’t how I expected but he’s like just as wonderful in the opposite direction. This is the wrong way but it’s still took us to a great place. I’m content.

The goddess of fire is broken as hell as a boon also she’s a delight. Adore her. Same for the god of forges. Everyone is wonderful. I need more gods tho the current batch is amazing but I need ares and Athena yaknow everyone else. Idk if that’s an “add to the game later” thing or a “pepsi needs to play more of the game” thing. Either way I’m excited.

Story isn’t fully clear yet, as for what happened, it’s all just the stuff in the trailers tbh so nothing new there. All and all is having a fucking blast. I didn’t mention everyone I saw and enjoyed or didn’t because I’m tired sleepy but I have no one I don’t like RIGHT NOW. RIGHT NOW everyone is a delight.

Fic soon…

WAIT I DIDNT EVEN SAY: MEL IS THR BEST. 3

EVERYTHING AVOUT HER IS AMAZING!! Im gonna give her a separate post tmw i adore her down BAD

[yanderes-galore]

I need some content for Leonardo L. Church right now! So can I ask for a romantic concept of him? :3

Sure! I wasn't sure what form of Church you wanted (Alpha or Epsilon) so I did a general concept of Alpha! Church. If something is OOC, my bad, it's been a bit since I've seen him in the show.

Yandere! Leonard L. Church Concept

(The Alpha)

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Controlling behavior, Jealousy/Possessive behavior, Clingy behavior, Denial, Brief stalking mention, Isolation, Threats/Intimidation mentioned, Dubious/Forced relationship.

Church is probably the most sane one of the Blood Gulch crew.

Both teams, too.

He's serious about his job and is baffled by the incompetence and insane events that happen around him.

Considering how he's an AI and the entirety of Blood Gulch is a fake scenario... can't entirely blame him.

Church's response to a lot of things is anger and frustration.

He tries not to know others emotionally, hates it when others can read him, and just doesn't seem to like people.

Or at the very least... hates the ones around him most of the time (Reds and Blues).

Despite being volatile, he is still a leader and a compassionate/caring person at times.

Church would come off cold towards his obsession at first.

As said before, he wouldn't want to be involved with anyone closely.

Especially if he's still having trouble with feelings towards Texas.

He seems dismissive with you, even if you're more rational than the rest.

Sometimes he feels he's babysitting Blue Team... sometimes even Red Team.

Seeing you react so rationally would surprise Church... but he respects it.

Church may like you because you seem to be... sane.

As his bond with you progresses, Church begins to be less cold towards you.

He expresses care towards you in private.

Around the others, Church still seems frustrated, annoyed, and cold.

But with you? Church feels he can have a genuine conversation with you without feeling angry.

It's... a nice change.

Church seems like the type of person to get jealous to the point of being petty.

In a way he feels the others don't entirely deserve to speak with you.

They're all dumb... so the fact you try to form a connection with them irritates Church.

He seems like the type of yandere to give the silent treatment, respond with sass/backhanded comments, or something similar.

He'd rather it just be you and him speaking with one another.

Caboose is an idiot, Tucker's a flirt, he doesn't even want to bring up Red Team...

He just wants you to focus on him and talk to him.

As petty as he is, he'll get over it since he can't seem to leave you alone.

You feel so genuine to him.

Something within him is drawn to you, like...

Love.

This has got to be love...!

At first even Church is in denial of it.

Yet even Caboose and Tucker know he's infatuated... his visor never leaves you.

Caboose has a childish view of Church's obsession, often mentioning it as a "crush".

Tucker often says to Church to go for you.

If Church doesn't... Tucker may ask you out himself.

When Tucker said such a thing... Church nearly lunged at him.

Church probably uses his sniper to watch you when you're not at base.

He tries really hard not to call it "stalking".

Tucker thinks otherwise, of course... but Church doesn't care.

Church is... awkward with expressing his newfound emotions.

All he really has to work with is memories of Texas.

As a result, I imagine he's awkward with making moves.

Things like flirting or affection aren't easy with him.

He often apologizes to you that he's so angry all the time.

Yet you can tell he holds some unknown amount of care towards you when he tries to be physically affectionate or just talk with you.

Church seems controlling at times due to his jealousy.

His jealousy makes him possessive, but he tries to hide it.

Church may try to be subtle with isolating you.

The others on Blue Team know how much Church is obsessed with you... as creepy as it is.

Yet Church never seems to listen to what they say... even when they try to show concern for you.

Church doesn't even want Red Team near you.

Often he's happy if it's just you and him in the base.

Towards others he isn't necessarily violent.

He'll threaten others to back off from you... but he probably won't kill over his obsession.

Church doesn't force you into anything when it comes to affection.

He waits patiently for you to reciprocate.

He just knows you will in the end.

It'll just take... time.

Church often tests the waters with you, small touches and things but nothing overly intimate (He's an AI/Robot... can he even...? Nevermind....).

If you push away, he backs off... if you don't...

Well, then he can continue this "relationship" with you....

Church feels his darling is the only one who doesn't annoy him... the only one who understands him... soon enough, the only one for him.

You're the only one who feels like an actual sane human being to him... which is ironic considering his true nature and intentions.

[sssammich]

this is for @sideguitars to read all of my kara-specific supergirl essays im not writing but do have random half-formed thoughts that i need to get out of my system or i'll never finish the rest of my work

in no particular order of importance but rather immediacy in my brain:

i've mentioned this before but kara should have retired the cape. should have made peace with her role as supergirl and should have kept her life as kara danvers, her most worn mask/identity. she should've come out as an alien, though. that would have been a poignant moment. that comes with its own host of other questions of identity. how much does she owe the people? how much of herself does she need to give to others? what would coming out as Alien mean to others. it's not about coming out as Supergirl, it's about coming out as Alien.

Speaking of coming out, what I will maintain and have mentioned in other posts is that kara coming out is not an allegory to coming out as queer, but to coming out as a member of a particular race (species). to simplify it, her identity reveal is a matter of racial identity and not of a gender or sexual identity. mostly because her current existence already participates in gender and/or sexual identities. as kara danvers, she lives as a heterosexual woman (and arguably cis because of the fact that she is living out her designated gender she was given on krypton and doesn't seem like she's questioning herself from that), dates men and otherwise fits in as a heterosexual woman. she's not hiding her crushes or her boyfriends or her interests. which is why what she's hiding is ethnic or racial by nature. she is an invisible minority, yes, but because she is read as an American White Woman.

her alienness is what sets kara apart from the world. nobody she doesn't want to know is privy to that fact. in that way then there are parallels to coming out as queer. kara never has to reveal this piece of information to anybody. HOWEVER, the moment she puts that cape on and bears the responsibility of what that entails, she has irrevocably made herself everybody else's business. at that point, it doesn't feel so unreasonable to think that people do have some level of right to know who she is. it's similar to celebrities in that it doesn't matter who they go on dates with, but it does matter to know if they're beating up their wives or committing arson. because it's not that she's revealing herself to be left-handed. she's revealing herself to have a gun. so i reckon it'd be akin to knowing if someone around you is carrying a gun, legally or otherwise? (listen i KNOW conceal carry is a thing, but i think we can make the point here that supergirl is actually Open Carry??? -- listen it's not perfect, there's nuance involved. im just saying.) supergirl is an alien with superpowers that can easily be turned into a WEAPON. red daughter is the literal instance of that. so it would be more interesting to me had the show been able to tackle what it means for a refugee to wield a gun, so to speak?

all that to say that yes, actually, i do think kara doesn't owe anybody her identity. but the moment she became a PUBLIC vigilante who makes herself responsible for the wellbeing and safety of others, then something has to give. the 1:1 analogies for this will never be perfect because the IMPLICATIONS, but hopefully it makes some sense

SWERVING but lex and kara are actually quite alike with one another. they are both big personalities, impressive, they have all eyes on them, and especially with regards to their siblings, they are prioritized by those around them. the eliza/lillian alex/lena and lex/kara parallels are so interesting even if it doesn't seem like it at a glance. eliza (and jeremiah) and lillian prioritizes one child over the other for different reasons. one is preferential treatment and the other is a means to acclimatize but either way, there were (un)intended consequences to the shadowed sibling. the sibligns who happen to mold themselves to the larger wants and needs required of the other sibling. lena molds herself to follow the luthor legacy, established and reinforced by the path that lex has taken. for whatever way lionel exists, the reality is that lillian's treatment of lex and lex's consequent upbringing is what influences, if not outright dictates, lena's upbringing and latent complexes. alex molds herself to Be The Sister that Kara Needs Above All Else, to be her protector and guide and every which else. both siblings sacrifice parts of themselves to yield to their sibling.

i personally would have enjoyed a Blow Up the Plot moment where lena discovers the bunker and consequently discovers kara as supergirl. it's even more interesting to consider it in the landscape of having red daughter. who is real, who is not? this is not exactly the most original of thoughts. certainly better fics have tackled this in a much more riveting way, but i do wonder what it would mean at the peak of betrayals and liars among lena's midst for kara to follow through with the most painful of them all. but in context of the others, what would it mean? how would it mean to her knowing that, at least, it's kara who revealed herself and not someone else. what would red daughter's presence mean for lena? she is not kara, but she is kara. could she have known kara as kara zorel from the beginning? or did it need to end up this way? she knows red daughter? god we'll never know obviously

one last fleeting thought before i finish up the day: spiderman already embodied it pretty well that with great powers come great responsibility. i'd love to see a take on kara that has her truly feeling her powers as a burden. despite the good that she does and the justice she helps bring and the safety that she provides, the powers that she has that aren't obtained or gained or earned (but solely exist for free, for better or worse), the powers are a burden. they come with so much. yes there's the burden of making sure she doesn't accidentally sneeze and hurt someone or to be careful when hugging or anything of that sort. i'm talking about the damage she wrings when she goes out there as supergirl, every time. they hate supergirl and all that she stands for etc etc, but what is powering supergirl? her alienness. attached to her name and her existence is the property damage, the collateral lives, the vengeful enemies (human or otherwise). what is the toll on her own spirit and psyche as a religious alien refugee, the last daughter of her planet, to know that there is such a great cost to her existence just by being herself. there are supporters, sure, and there are naysayers as well, obviously. but if we're to follow through with the racial lens of reading kara, the superpowered alien who has been displaced from her home planet, then what does it mean to know that your existence can and does bring about so much chaos because of your desire to help. (to be clear, aliens with powers are not inherently evil or bad, and that's not what i'm saying. what i am saying is that it matters to think about how someone can be deemed as such and what does it mean when it's someone who is in the invisible minority but still, a minority.)

anyway lots of things i'm thinking about so who knows how this will manifest in my stories but wouldn't that be fun lmao all i know is that thinking about kara is making me obsessed i wanna write about her in like ten fics right now smh

[scarlet--wiccan]

I feel like the way Tommy is written with David is starkly different from the way they write him everywhere else? He seemed to hate the X-Men, he's always been suspicious and untrusting, his mom was murdered at the first Hellfire Gala, and Gillen's snippet of him in Pride implied that Tommy didn't actually like Krakoa at all. He refers to it (& David) as promoting supremacist ideals. Which felt more in line with Tommy's older comics from before he started dating David, and that Secret Wars HoM series where he was breaking humans out of "containment centers" and trashing Genosha. Then whenever he's with David he's just... lounging around Krakoa and endorsing him with no qualms at all. Like I'm happy they remember Tommy but I'd rather he was written consistently than used for unproblematic shipping content.

I agree, fully, and that's basically what I find so frustrating about this relationship.

I like Tommy and David together, but their being together in the Krakoan raises a lot of questions and should have come with a certain degree of tension or conflict that needed to be resolved in order for them to grow into their relationship. Which, you know, is how relationship usually work in a well-told story? But we're not talking about a well-told story, we're talking about Leah Williams X-Factor.

I don't want to diminish how gross David's treatment was in that book, but I think that, by virtue of being an actual X-Men character, his core personality and traits have been maintained just fine. Tommy, on the other hand, has become something of an accessory and is mostly being written by writers who just aren't invested in his character, and as you noted, it's caused his personality to become flat and kind of toothless.

A lot of people think Tommy is a redundant character, and on the surface, I can see why, but he has his own perspective and personality that are similar, but different, from Pietro's. His role as the mistrusting, anti-authoritarian guy with a reasonable grudge against most governments and superhero institutions is an important part of the Young Avengers makeup, and those integral characteristics have been lost in recent years. Part of that is just because he doesn't get page time, but the generic funny-fast-guy schtick really only started with X-Factor-- his personality was totally on the mark in Gillen's YA, in spite of how he was otherwise shafted by that series.