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#just like. without all the problems that make it impossible to exist in normal society as myself

weaselle · 2 months

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my mother, bless her soul, is a genuinely good person who has literally saved many lives, but she does not understand what internalized bigotry is.

like she'll say "i'm so glad you kids didn't turn out to be racist" and I'll try to explain why that's wrong (i am racist, actually, and worse, i am racist in ways i don't recognize because i was so smothered in racism by my culture that there are parts of me that are racist but don't register as racist to myself when i think those thoughts or do those things, and the MOST important part of changing that about myself is knowing that it's true) but she just doesn't get it

so i'll have conversations like that one i just had, where she's like "i don't mind gay people" (which is true, right, she is totally good with gay people when they are a human person in front of her existing as a human who is gay) "BUT i don't like how all the TV shows i watch are turning into shows that are basically all gay people now".

smh. Like, c'mon ma, i know you're better than this. Be better than this.

and i was like "okay name a show" and she named a law enforcement show (whole other problem) and i was like "how many main characters are there" and she was like "about twelve" and i was all "okay probably about half of them are men?" and she was all "yeah" and i'm like "okay the, whatever, chief character, that's probably a man right, is he straight or gay" and she was like "straight" and i was like "alright and there's probably a tough guy character is he straight or gay" and he was straight and we established that it was half straight guys and half gay guys

so then she's like "but i don't like how in my face it is there's all these sex scenes" and i was like "okay so the sex senes are all gay sex?" and she's like "no but there's so much sex now and these shows used to be about the who done it and the action" and i'm like "okay so your issue is there's just, too much sex in the show" and she's like "yeah!" and i was all "okay so that's not a gay issue that's a sexual content issue, you should probably not conflate those two things" and she was like "but there's so much gay stuff" ...

(please keep in mind this is a woman who would take in a gay runaway cousin without a second thought, votes for candidates that support gay rights, etc, she really is a mostly good person, she's just a product of her generation and doesn't understand things like intersectionalism and internalization or see how problematic this point of view she's having is)

anyway we go round and round like this and she's getting more and more agitated because she wants to say she's bothered by gay lifestyles being featured on TV shows she likes, but she doesn't want to admit that this is a homophobic reaction, and since it's impossible to say those two contradictory positions are simultaneously true i'm easily making it impossible for her to justify.

Finally when i can tell she's had enough and will take any out offered, i tell her "i'm just saying, it can be easy to feel like a normal amount of gay representation is an unreasonable amount when what you are used to is none." and walked out the door. Hopefully that gets through to her.

But it's frustrating how many fundamentally good people there are who are still part of the problem because they've spent so long equating bigotry to pure evil that they can't contemplate the possibility that they, a good person, have bigoted thoughts and reactions to things.

And it's difficult to keep having these conversations (which i feel are necessary to have if we are to change as a society) when every time you try to explain it they react like you are calling them literally Evil Bad People.

but you gotta. you just gotta

#my life

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gyusimp · 1 year

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°•Soulmate Headcanons•°

♥️Requested by: @wildfire317s-oc-box

≫ ──── ≪•◦♥️ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

You are the first couple that Gyutaro has, so he will want to try many things with you and you with him.

You are someone very affectionate with him, if he allows you, you will not stop giving him hugs and kisses all day.

You will compliment him and flirt with him 24/7.

Gyutaro will feel a little annoyed by all these cute things because he at first thinks you are teasing him but actually he loves them.

This man is full of insecurities and self-loathing so please take care to erase all those thoughts from his little head.

Because of his insecurities he won't even notice yours and if you tell him he won't really care. If there is something you don't like about yourself physically, he won't care, he says that if a demon as evil and horrible as he is loved by you, how could he not love you if you were "normal" on the society's gaze?

He would tell you to stop saying stupid things because besides him there are other people who also consider you attractive.

Gyutaro would make you feel very confident in yourself because he always tries to make you feel better about whatever is happening to you. It won't be with pretty words or a sweet and tender voice, but his arguments would make a lot of sense and he would make your problems or anxieties disappear.

He is not a lover of physical contact but he loves your kisses on any part of his body. That lets him know without a doubt that you don't feel any kind of disgust towards him and it makes him feel better.

Gyutaro loves to lie on your lap or chest after a long fight with some Demon Slayer or a hunt. It's impossible for him to get tired but resting with you is like recharging his energy.

Sometimes, Gyutaro comes back quite sweaty and with dried or fresh blood stains on his clothes, hands and mouth if he has eaten someone. He sees it as normal so he goes straight to you to kiss you on the cheek and cup your face in his hands.

He loves to see you stained with blood for some reason, once you prevented him from dirtying you like that but when you did he felt rejected and got mad at you because he thought you actually felt disgusted by him. So now you had to allow him to do it, maybe it was a demon thing like marking you or something.

The good side of him being so dirty was that if you could convince him, the two of you could take a bath together.

Gyutaro loves to touch you (whether in a cute or horny way) but now I'll talk about a sweet and soft way.

Gyutaro loves how warm and soft your skin is, when his rough fingers touch you he feels really good. When he touches you it's as if time stopped for him and nothing else existed around him. He usually does it when you're asleep. Gyutaro runs his long, bony fingers through the strands of your hair to untangle it, he also touches the fabric of the clothing that covers your skin and he brings his face closer to you to feel the scent of your entire body.

He loves the contrast of your curves and soft skin next to the sharp angles that create the bones of his body. Gyutaro thinks that just seeing you is a wonder.

Sometimes this relaxes him a lot but at other times he has to get away from you immediately because when he smells your sweet scent he feels a big need of wants to kill you.

He knows that he is immortal and one of the strongest and most intelligent demons but deep down, Gyutaro is very worried about what will happen to you if he were to die.

You are someone fragile and defenseless in the sight of Gyutaro, he always thinks about how to take care of you and protect you so that no one even thinks of harming you.

Gyutaro would definitely kill someone for you without hesitation, no matter if it's someone you know.

If he suspects that someone in particular has bad intentions with you or will try to hurt you, be it physical/psychological, he will kill them.

Gyutaro's mind is his worst enemy because it tends to make him overthink things.

He wonders too much why you love him, he thinks that there is nothing good in him and that you are wasting all your time and life with him.

Gyutaro thinks that you are a wonderful person, you are the first person other than his sister that he can trust and you don't know how much he is in love with you even if he doesn't show it.

You are so beautiful and perfect that when he sees himself he can't help but scratch his skin until it bleeds thinking that you should leave him, for your own good.

He has had enough self control by now but he is really afraid of one day coming up with you and just killing you because he has already imagined how it would be like to take you in his arms and bite your neck, open your abdomen with his bare hands and swallow your intestines while he feels the hot sensation of your blood dripping from his mouth.

If he were to do that he would never forgive himself but you're so good he knows you would.

Gyutaro desperately searches for you throughout the Kyogoku house until he finds you and he takes you to a place alone with him.

He hugs you with all his might and buries his face into your chest, letting your touch at least momentarily dispel the thick fog inside his head.

There are times when Gyutaro would look for you and cling to you crying for no reason. You don't know what could destabilize him so much and when you ask him he never answers but whatever it is you will always be here for him and make him feel better.

From this headcanon came 2 new ideas to write others! thanks for requesting it 👀

#gyutaro x reader #gyutaro #kny gyutaro #gyutaro shabana #gyutaro x y/n #kimetsu no yaiba #kny headcanons #demon slayer #demon slayer x reader

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cowboyjen68 · 1 year

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Hey Jen,

Just wanted to say thank you for everything you do. I grew up in a very "traditional" environment with no butch role models I could look up to, which meant I've moved through my childhood and teenage years as a very lonely and confused tomboy. I remember reading about butch lesbians for the first time and finally feeling like there are other women like me out there and that there's nothing wrong with being the way I am. I've managed to fully grow into myself after I came out at 18 and have since been the proud and visible butch I've needed to see when I was younger. The problem is, even though I'm about to turn 30, I still feel like I'm missing that recognition and approval from older butches that I always craved and never had, and it's making me feel a little embarrassed because it's usually younger girls who seek guidance like that. I'm normally seen as "seasoned" in my small circle but I don't feel that way deep inside. I don't really know how to cope with this feeling, but seeing your posts and you just existing has been so good and healing, I truly appreciate you so much.

It makes my heart full to hear when one of us, despite the obstacles and misinformation and subtle to even aggressive push back from the world around us, discovers the word, our word, Butch and pieces fall into place. I needed to know there was a word to describe myself and others who shared certain experiences because often those things were impossible to communicate with just words unless someone lived in a similar space as I did/do.

You can take consolation that I get DM’s and meet women well into their 30’s and even 40’s who are trying hard to embrace butch without much modeling in their real lives. They see media representation that is sparse, one dimensional, and inaccurate.They get handed books that most likely tell A story but not one broad enough as to be applicable to most of us and wonder why they feel like they are missing things they can truly relate to beyond superficial aesthetics or glimpses of familiar treatments in society.

I would suggest going to a women’s festival if you can swing it. There are always lots of butches of all personality types, body types and they are full of stories and experiences and you will see a more rounded representation of the US.

Follow butches on Tiktok like KojaDeyoha and Conservation_Junkie who showcase their lives without compromise or apologies. Check their comment sections for others who you might be able to relate to.

Be honest with yourself above all others because at the end of the day you are with you and no one else will be responsible for your happiness.

Subscribe to Lesbian Connection Magazine LConline.org to get a glimpse into the conversions lesbians of all stripes have in a casual, letter format.

I am glad I am relatable to you and so happy you found me. I know I needed to see “me” when I was younger and thankfully around 23 my first girlfriend took me to a women’s festival and I saw lots of women with whom I could find common ground.

#butch #lesbian #intergenerational lesbian #role models

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komorebi-art-blog · 1 year

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Pt. 1

It's going to be a long post. As always, the second mother @koyato

Briefly about AU. Basically it's "66 didn't happen", but we went a little further. The story consists of three stages: Pale Sky, Rainy Season and Endless Meadow. AU is not only about clones, but the story begins with them and follows them, especially in the first two parts. Pale Sky tells about the Clone Wars and how the Empire fell before it was born. Rainy Season tells about the attempt of clones and other creatures to survive the crisis and find their place in a galaxy that has changed forever. And Endless Meadow tells about a newfound home and a new chapter of history.

Warning, next comes an unfiltered mix of headcannons and canonical rumors, keep in mind that this is just an AU. And there's a lot of cruelty, no graphic descriptions, just depression.

Tet, a defective clone.

It all started with the eyes. To begin with, I don't believe that all clones are identical. It's almost physically impossible. Firstly, genetics is still incredibly complex and unpredictable. Secondly, Kaminoans are never 100% satisfied with their work, they are always trying to achieve perfection. And to achieve perfection, you need to make at least small changes, which can lead to mistakes. And thirdly, we know from the Clone Wars that they literally have no choice, without a pure donor, DNA is gradually becoming unstable, they need to make risky changes. But that's not the bad part.

We know how Kaminoans treat clones. They are their product, a product that must be perfect and meet the standards.

From the Legends, we know what happens to "defective" clones. "They disappeared mysteriously in the late hours of the night and were never seen again." They were terminated. This can only apply to clones with real physical disabilities, and not little things like a different color of hair or eyes. But in fact, for Kaminoans, these are not little things.

Kaminoan society is built on a strict caste system, and the position in society is determined by the color of the eyes. No matter who you are, you will always be in your place, like a cog in the mechanism of the city. Because if you're not in your place, the city will collapse into the ocean, burying everyone with you. This is why Kaminoans with green eyes shouldn't exist. The green color is considered as a mutation, and the very existence of Kaminoans with such eyes is unacceptable. Because deviations are dangerous.

Isn't a different eye color in clones an equally unacceptable deviation? Eugenics is literally burned into the Kaminoan subcortex. Why should there be other standards for clones?

However, I don't think that clones with deviations were necessarily killed. They are expensive to produce, and practical Kaminoans will do anything to benefit from their mistake. Drugs, modifications, experimental methods of training and brainwashing can be tested on defective clones. They are a very good resource of organs for transplantation. And it is very convenient to make suicide soldiers out of them. They simply won't live long enough to become a problem, but they will have time to benefit.

One of these soldiers was Tet. CT-1917 at that time. He is not from the first, but from one of the early generations over which the Kaminoans had complete control before the arrival of the Jedi. And he wasn't supposed to survive. His bright, almost glowing blue eyes didn't give him a chance at a normal clone life, if you can call it normal. He grew up like a lab rat, surrounded by sterile walls, buzzing appliances and the smell of medicines. As a child, he was almost isolated from his brothers, which did not help with his mental health. Countless physiological and mental tests, continuous training, experiments with drugs. Not bad enough to drive him crazy, enough to cause deep-seated horror. From early childhood, he began to squint his eyes. Only with a helmet on, he can open them completely without panic. He grew up with terrible anxiety because he had to work three times harder than an ordinary clone just to get a chance to survive. He has learned to stand at attention even when no one is looking. He learned to be loyal to the Republic because of which he went through all this. He learned to lie. Just to have a chance to break out of Kamino.

And he did it. He brought his grades to perfection. He was able to get into a group of defective clones like him, training under the paratrooper program to become cannon fodder in white armor and clear the way for real soldiers. Clones like them won't survive their first mission. But a quick death on the battlefield is better than being disassembled alive for organs. And it's still a chance.

He survived. He was picked up by the paratroopers of the 212 battalion, whom he soon joined thanks to Commander Cody. He was slowly getting used to the company of his brothers and life in GAR, so different from Kamino. He even got a name and a tattoo. But terrible fear and paranoia were destroying his life faster than it was being built.

#star wars #tcw #clone trooper tet #pale sky #star wars au #clone troopers #clone oc #Spotify #clones

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tervacious · 2 years

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THE SEXUAL FREEDOM EXPERIMENT HAS FAILED

No it hasn’t. There was never any sexual freedom experiment. That’s the actual problem. You can’t have sexual freedom when there’s no other freedom to go with it, you have to have a total systemic change for that to happen.

You can’t have sex positivity under patriarchy, you can’t have sexual freedom under patriarchy, you can’t have free love under patriarchy, for anyone, even those who want to have those things and would benefit from them. Because you can’t remove a single issue from patriarchy and “fix” it and have it benefit anything but the patriarchy.

Oh, you think gender isn’t the same as biological sex because no one is hardwired to naturally be abused and to like the color pink? You’re right, sex and gender are different from each other, obviously, now, how can we make this so it benefits men and then blame you for it and say well, I mean, it was FEMINISTS who said there was a difference, why do you bitch about transwomen in women’s sports, YOU said women and men were EXACTLY THE SAME. Oh, you didn’t say that? We’re pretty sure you said that. We read that in Quillette one time. Now suddenly you’re changing your mind? Transphobe. Also aren’t women just the dumbest? You just hate finding out how inferior you are, don’t you? It’s really the truth though, look, you’re just not competitive physically, babe, it’s okay, just learn your place and we’ll get along again. Daddy Jordan Peterson will rescue you. Pick your fights, big manly Matt Walsh will speak for you now. There there pumpkin.

Oh, you think women should be able to sleep with whoever they want without shame and enjoy themselves? Good, okay, let’s pretend we’re going to do that but make it so nothing else is up for discussion-- I mean, you’re not really asking MEN to make a change of some kind? Society itself, change? No, that’s not how things work, the beneficiaries can’t change, ever, and certainly can never be you. And then when this “experiment” “fails” let’s make it about feminism and the fact you want sexual freedom. Let’s find as many women as possible to mansplain to you that you can’t have what you want, you little slut. That’s all this ever was, right, women wanting to be dumb sluts? Women just being stupid, as usual, thinking freedom is for them. Let’s make it so you learn, little girl, that sexual freedom just isn’t something you can ever have, it’s impossible, you’re inferior, learn to live with it, and then when that pendulum swings to a point men get tired of it let’s have this conversation again and laugh at you as you scramble, again, to reinvent the wheel because you never, ever build on what your foremothers built for you, because we make sure you forget about that and sneer at them along with us.

Oh, you think women who don’t want to have kids and want to work instead should be able to do that? Okay, sure, let’s hyperfocus on this, to the exclusion of the things women really want, like acknowledgment women have ALWAYS WORKED and now would like to be recompensed? Or maybe some women want to work and then have kids and maybe go back to work without being penalized? You fool, how dare you aspire to something totally... normal? Or you don’t want to work outside the home, you lazy and probably religious bitch, now you have to work or your family can’t afford decent housing unless you’re out in the middle of nowhere. You want equal pay for the same job? You’ll never work the EXACT same job in the EXACT same way as men, silly girl. It was those MOMMYs who did this to you. It was those FEMINISTS who hate CHILDREN, wanting the freedom to work and get paid and not be dependent on marriage and men, it’s THEIR fault, it’s always another WOMANs fault, never a man’s fault or capitalism’s fault or the totally non-existent patriarchy’s fault, there’s no such thing, get in the kitchen and make me a sandwich har har no really, you’ll be happier that way, remember your place. You’re inferior. That’s why you can’t have anything you want. Learn to live with it. LEAN IN.

We can do this with any topic. With sports, with violence, with rape, with divorce, with marriage, with prison, with guns, with fashion, with makeup, with babies, with abortion, with birth control, with gender nonconformity, with the arts, with literally anything. If you, as a feminist, take the stance that women should be able to do what we want, well alrighty, little lady, here’s a version of that thing you want with nothing else altered to give you what you really want and deserve, so keep on working towards the real thing but meanwhile here’s some leftovers, satisfy yourself with these and then fight like hell to keep those little scraps when we threaten them and then we get to laugh at you when it all goes down in flames and make you feel like the dummy.

This newish “Sexual Freedom is BAD ACTUALLY” narrative, which I think is absolutely advocating for women to return to “our” male-assigned sphere, is obnoxious. It isn’t pinpointing a deep truth radical feminists haven’t already pointed out, it’s manipulating things to control women and benefit men, yet again. It’s always the exact same fight, over and over again. Quit falling for it, gyns. Freedom is always good. The problem is we have not had any freedom yet, sexual or otherwise. That’s the actual problem.

#got het up again

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lorisystem · 8 months

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Sorry about to be negative but need vent

So i had a rlly difficult day and tbh this probably doesnt help but these thoughts i have them all the time its a constant opinion and not just a negative spiral. Although right now feeling this a lot and affecting me more than usual

Anyway like i got back from paid leave last week and my job is like rlly demanding. Im gonna say for me because my threshold for difficult is really low. But yea its just the workload is fairly heavy, theres a lot of pressure, and theres a lot of drama etc. To be fair my neurotypical coworkers are also struggling etc.

But anyway one of the things about paid leave is that when you are able to be off for enough days in a row (like 3 weeks in my case) it really feels like. I was fine during paid leave enjoying my little life doing whatever i wanted being paid etc. You go back to work and its like. Why am i subjecting myself to this. Why. Whats the point. It doesnt even matter. Do i have to even? Why did we all decide to just be doing this. So whatever but thats one thing going on etc

Idkkkk if its like. Haha seasonal or what but im having slightly more suicidal ideation than usual. Like this is not worrying at all like im not in danger or anything. Disclaimer i wont do anything etc. And im saying this completely deadpan non emotionally- Buttt like to give an idea even at my happiest / euphoric i always think of dying as a good thing. I rlly have a hard time finding anything worth it. Literally best i can do is "yeah for this reason i can endure until i die of natural/accidental causes but rlly glad that it does end at some point". So thats my baseline i live like this and most of the time im fine cause like, my number one priority in life is to avoid whatever causes me suffering and stress and like the thing about suicide is that non violent methods are inaccessible to me which i think is unethical but thats my own issue lol. So basically as long as my life is less painful than suicide im at no risk of dying and i do my best to minimize suffering, doing fine on that, so everything is fine. Alright

But like anyway i was thinking that my number one problem in life currently and idk how to solve it its impossible right?

Is like. I want to live a life where i can be myself/not mask. That is to say be authentically who i am speak like i think act like i think dress how i want use the pronouns i use etc (im talking about displaying asd traits, dressing weird, being trans, ace, polyam queer etc) like just harmless things that are my core personality and defining traits right. AND be respected as a human being.

That is to say like id like to go outside and participate in society sometimes without having to pretend to be "normal" and also at the same time to not get weird looks, not get nasty looks, not get catcalled, not get harassed, not get commented upon, not get someone coming up to me to comment on my outfit or be mean to me, not get someone feeling entitled to treat me as subhuman, not stalked, not at fear of being assaulted, not get rumors spread about me, not followed around, not preyed upon etc etc just for existing <3 bc i dare to look abnormal and vulnerable ppl notice and think im not human.

Ive had all those happen to me and thankfully nothing too bad either like it happens to some ppl so i will display a certain amount of disgusting gratefulness bc of course i have some privilege so there is obviously way worse than me. Somehow still enough to make me traumatized and agoraphobic!

I just want to exist and that its ok and that ppl dont wonder if thats ok if they should take advantage of me or try to help and correct whatever is wrong with me.

And that is too much to ask! Its literally too much to ask.

We live in a world where we cant expect especially marginalized ppl, to be respected. To exist outside or in public etc and just not get someone to make us understand thats somth is wrong with us.

I have to pretend to be normal, all this effort so at the end of the day not only am i dead inside but also i still know ppl think theres still somth off about me.

So anyway this is my pipe dream and the reason ill never think anything is good or worth it. Is there in the world a happy place like this? I think about it all the time, where is the land i can be happy and ppl act normal to me.

Anyway a dream ive had is to save up and buy a house on a mortgage and like. I have a good salary at the moment for a single person, its pretty good. But my spouse is struggling to find a job and anything resembling takes a lot of energy from them so idk if its viable long term even and on my salary alone thats impossible. So idk. And like thats fine but its sad cause my spouse is rlly depressed about it etc.... capitalism does this to us.. yk how it is..

Im thinking maybe i should just attempt to start a thing to get disability aid or somth which is. The amount is basically only the minimum to live for one person if you leave in a shoebox and have no expense. So like the quality of life for myself and my spouse would seriously decrease in terms of living space and other nice things so like meh. But most importantly id have to get reevaluated every few years etc at risk of losing it if i stop qualifying it. Which can reasonably happen even if the doctor i have changes and they decide no longer disabled or someth even. That is if i even get it cause like i am actually capable at least for now to work full time in the way i do. Sucks the whole time, but capable. So idk what to do. Maybe i reduce my time of work. Idk. The fear of losing the disability is rlly too much for me too like. I have no financial support if that happens i cant count on my family at all for anything. Im too scared/traumatized by poverty to not have stability.

Honestly i think its just this forever then? Ig i should make another therapy appointment but last time my therapist said something that set me off and now i dont wanna go again its so dumb cause i rlly like her and been w her for like. Idk almost 2 years now. And she just said one thing which i think even she meant nothing by it and now im just like. I rlly hate that its happening i just feel the ick.

I was telling this to my spouse too like when you repress your emotions so much all the time you stop feeling sadness or anger etc you just feel the ick. Like profoundly uncomfortable with no words to put on it rlly

So thats going on for me ♡ sorry for being negative though just going through my mind but ill be ok etc

#lorisys #idk who iam rn chimera blend 24 7 honestlee #super long negative vent on readmore read only at your risks and perils be advised etc etc not tagging

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theophagie · 9 months

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Lots of awful things have made the news in succession lately and it's astounding how the average person still refuses to acknowledge that sexual assault, feminicide and the overall misogyny that goes on in this country aren't things the randomly happen but the result of cultural and institutional backwardness. Honor killing and matrimoni riparatori were outlawed in 1981, up until 1996 sexual violence wasn't an offence against someone, but against "public morality", stalking became a crime only in 2009, in courts it's not the accused that has to prove that the violence didn't happen, it's the victim that has to prove that it did (with everything that comes with it). And so on. The people who grew up before then or during that time are the parents, the uncles and aunts, the grandparents, the teachers of everyone who's alive now, they're the ones educating them. And it's so painfully easy to see and feel. But whenever a woman is murdered by her violent partner or an ex that she had already reported, or is raped out in the streets without anyone intervening, it's literally impossible to raise the bar and move the broad discussion from bullshit like "he had a violent raptus" to "the problem is that the average man in this country doesn't see women as human beings, and many women have internalised this as well"

If your molester touches you for less than ten seconds he won't be charged because that's too little time to count. Sure we can acknowledge that these two men raped you, but they didn't realise that they were raping you, so they won't be charged either. Seven men forced you to get drunk and then dragged you away to rape you, but we can't dare say anything about the environment they grew up in. This was just on them, at max on their parents as well, but not society. Never society nor culture, no no. But we can have a high-ranking military man publish a book where (among other awful things!) he goes on about how awful and useless feminists are, and we can make it into a bestseller too! Wohoo! In the meantime, let's just pat ourselves in the back by saying that rapists and abusers and stalkers are just beasts or monsters or just mentally ill people and are thus inherently different from us. How dare you say that they're the direct result of something much bigger, how dare you say that even us Normal Men™ should do some self reflection and think about the "average" ways in which we in turn treat women like dirt, how dare you say that the two things are correlated 🤡

There's been so much talk about the chemical castration for rapists, so many calls to bring back the death penalty, but what would that do. What the fuck would that do lol. Good job, you've obtained your revenge and that one single man won't rape anyone else again (maybe) 👍 And then what? Are you doing anything else to change the world around you, to prevent it from happening again? Are you educating your sons any better? Holding Normal Men™ accountable for their casual misogyny any more? Demanding that judges be more responsible? Reinforcing networks to help victims? Ah, no? You just think that the prospect of more severe punishments will be enough of a deterrent. That if rapists are brought to prison other inmates will "take care" of them too, even. Right. Cool.

And now this is just a tangent but as I've been writing this some discourse that often pops up on this website but also in Progressive Spaces™ in general as a whole came to my mind and just. The patriarchy, rape culture, misogyny (whether it be against trans or cis women or against afab people who are just wrongly perceived as women even if they aren't), and so on are things that factually exist and that we have to grapple with. And for the love of all that is good on this Earth we cannot allow terfs and radfems to monopolise the discussion regarding them, we can't stop or hesitate to talk about feminist issues out of fear of being mistaken for one of them. We can't, for everyone's sake we really, really can't

#i'm just. angry and frustrated and feeling helpless beyond any limit #sorry. rant over #mytext #rl #italy

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anthonybialy · 1 year

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Pain by Perspective

It’s easier to measure what didn’t happen than it is to make enough to buy rations and shelter. Inflation cruelly decided to inflict itself randomly just as Joe Biden got his chance to bring universal joy. An indifferent result is a partisan hack. Money becomes increasingly worthless with every sentence. Noting how much energy costs becomes obsolete faster than can be typed.

Proving a negative may seem impossible. But withstanding endless negative outcomes makes the contrast sadly recognizable. Victims miss the relatively carefree days when earning income was the day’s biggest pain. Alleged wage slaves never thought they’d yearn for completing enough tasks to afford basic needs. The case for how much life particularly sucks is presently easier with countless examples of how things were nicer way back three years ago.

It’s possible to know what blessings we possess even if we’re accustomed to cushiness. Eternal gripers just have to be grateful for what things and concepts are presently present. That leaves out liberals, who are sure that stupid freedom and cruel free exchange cause the entirety of misery.

Little treats becoming unobtainable luxuries has made the universally deprived miss the benefits we enjoyed without realizing it. Biden taught us to be more human by confiscating simple pleasures.

Seeing what happens when what’s working is discarded makes society feel unemployed. It’s easy to sense how life has gotten woeful if anyone needed the perspective of pain. All it took to make us beg for ordinary irritations was the incumbent getting what he wants.

Crime is treated like a problem of bitching victims if you wonder where the last of your stuff went. Cracking down on wrongdoers seems so elitist. It’s better to blame everyone else. A victim isn’t about to seek revenge like some misunderstood felon.

The ability to flee truly hurts the social justice effort to end crime through understanding. Companies don’t feel like doing business in places where fiends can steal at will just like residents look to move to jurisdictions where potential muggers know they face arrest or a barrel.

The economy works best when everyone is allowed to work without getting punished for it, noted the person visiting Earth for the second day. The same aspect that makes free markets amazing becomes apparent once meddlesome hands replace the invisible one. It’s only when pushy presidents decide there’s not enough wealth or that people who don’t donate to him have too much of it.

Free is the most costly price. Village elder and idiot Joe Biden attempted to get away with the oldest vain attempt to scheme, namely trying to get something for nothing. Those he sees as subjects got plenty of the latter.

The attempt to get rewarded without creating value has defined Biden’s life. Worst of all, he figured everyone else is also a grifter who relies on parasitic preying. Him getting away with it inflicted tremendous loss on a once-productive nation.

Printing money somehow didn’t make everyone rich. Presses can’t keep pace fast enough to enable affording opulent groceries. Food is today’s equivalent to yachts.

Feeling the urge to infringe is bad enough. The fact it’s always those least qualified to interfere in the work of the productive just spreads flames. Opening the oven door then wondering why the cake doesn’t rise is the culinary approach of present cabinet secretaries. Shoppers can’t afford extravagances like flour and eggs.

International turmoil becoming normal might feel calm. Growing accustomed to marching invaders ruining your flower beds is the best hope for dealing. Being mean to villains doesn’t cause them to be naughty, enemies of understanding are surprised to learn. It’s almost like evil’s existence isn’t the fault of the virtuous, which is news to very proud Americans who presume America is the worst.

Global dirtbags got what they wanted, namely a president who’ll back down like it’s his job description. Scoundrels forgetting to set the parking brakes on tanks or to set centrifuges on sleep mode are just something that’s part of life if you let oafs chart its course.

The measures interdictors claim caused agony prevented it. Sufferers are not exactly smirking at appreciation of irony. It’s tough to giggle while worried that the last of your material goods is about to be stolen. Police were serving as a barrier against involuntary donations, which is why Democrats think they’re government’s only bad part.

Blaming those enduring doesn’t assuage. Guarding against nefariousness was the prevention instead of the cause in case very smart liberals outthought themselves again. The simple act of trading what we have for what we want benefits both parties. Nobody’s partying right now.

I wish there were a better way to know what it’s like to not ache. Imagination should be sufficient. Living through deprivation is helpful to those struggling to picture how well life functioned before those who pretended everything was awful decided to initiate unneeded repairs.

Philosophers who think there’s no certain way to know what good is without bad are in luck, sort of. We can tell what was working by comparison to how everything’s broken now. Blame capitalism for the results of constant interference with that very process. Nostalgia is the only thing functioning.

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elutsodi · 2 years

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my translation of a viedo essay about humans ego

humans ego is a tool for us to survive which divides outside world from inside world and u cant live without it. normal people can only experience disappearance of ego for a short amount of time like when on drugs. some certain techniques can make ur ego borders thinner and some say that it feels fucking wonderful thats why they do it heres a short cartoon (with english subs !) that explains this experience https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=liXqrnAGraQ&t=0s. if your ego is gone then u are probably mentally ill bcuz without that border ull start having constant dissociations and derealizations and ur mind basically cant take it ur mental health will probably fade away with the sense of being a human. ego starts to appear when you're about three years old that's when u realise that ur mom is not u ur mom is ur mom and u is u and stuff like that. we can describe ego like a skin that helps our inner mental things to stay the way they are. but unlike our actual skin it can affect our thoughts, behaviour and reactions on things outside us (like other people environment etc.). and this can be a problem because our ego once again unlike our actual skin can deform while developing. for example if we try imagining a narcissists ego it'll be like a spiky outline of them, they are very defensive and can go overboard while standing up for their personal boundaries. and then he shows a couple more of examples but im too lazy to translate

so yeah life without ego is impossible. we need some kind of shield from the outside world and other ppl. they only time we can put them down is around our loved ones and thats why in relationships our boundaries are kinda non-existing. now about other social situations. argument between two people is actually just their egos fighting and its really pointless the only thing u get in reward is self validation its only boosting our ego which in large amounts can be very bad. a good argument is more like a discussion where there is no winning side just opinions. most of the times when u are arguing ur ego is basically telling u smth like "u dumb fuck if we dont win this we are going to be the nastiest slugs in the universe and i don't like being humiliated ". in situations like this its best to tell yourself that u are not the smartest of all times and u cant be right all the time and that its totally ok to be like that. even if for example you are arguing in the presence of a person that u like and u dont wanna look lame its all your ego! its not your duty to incline other persons opinion because with existence of ego its only natural for people to have different povs. liberalism is also mostly about egoism. its all about what you can have. the problem of liberalism is that it can once again inflate ur ego so much that u dont take other people opinions properly, u believe that there can only be one true way of living ect. but the truth is there is no right and there is no wrong all people no matter how big their salary, house, car collection is big are all the same and there are no main characters. but ego is trying to tell us that we are one in a kind and that we are the main character which can be really problematic. envy is also a creation of ego.

when we see another human having something that we dont have it makes us want to take it from them. in terms of surviving its really nice but in modern society its something that is not good for us. when that happens its once again best tot step out of your ego for a sec and realise that some people are just better and certain things and its totally normal.

now the tough stuff

ego is also something that safes us from realisation of universal void. the point of life. many people say that we create our meaning of life. but this is also our ego speaking. ego makes us think that all that happened in our lives is our path and that its not a coincidence. but its not like that. we are only a piece of sand in all the universe, which existed before us and will outlive us. ego helps us imagine a path of our lives but the truth is every path ends with death. there is no sense in giving life some kind of sense because it just happened and the only thing we can do about it is be happy. but in order to live happily people need an illusion of a working structure which we created. society that we created is all about giving life a working system in which we can dive into and pretend that our life has a meaning. if we actually think about certain things we would be terrified because all our surroundings are chaotic. that's why ego is trying to attach to something material and give us a feeling of smth meaningful. we need our life to make sense. buddhism says that the root of all the problems is attachment that creates ego. death. ego is very afraid of dying it wants us to live forever. ego wants to be there even after death, it wants other people to remember us. that's why many religions say stuff about reincarnations and life after death, to not feel scared of the fact that we live only once and there's no meaning for human to exist in the first place. that's why a lot of people with big egos are taking life too serious but the thing is as i already said we can only be happy that we get to live and all we can do is have fun while we can.

#mind #idk man #peepeepoopoo

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ladyluscinia · 3 years

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Normally I just kind of roll my eyes at bad takes by bronlies, but the sheer cognitive dissonance in their approach to side characters has been really nagging at me recently.

I've seen too many "explanations" of why some non-Winchester is not worth attention and they tend to have pretty repetitive reasons: the character doesn't affect the plot, they have insufficient characterization, Sam and Dean barely know them / don't care, or they are random extra #6254. These points are usually exaggerated to absurdity, but that's the core of the problem with side characters. And bronlies will put it forth as reasoning why the show should have never bothered with side characters at all.

Ignoring, of course, that every one of those problems does exist, but as a direct result of Supernatural not treating its side characters like, well, normal side characters!

Side characters are supposed to affect the plot. They exist to fill supporting roles! Get called for backup. Deliver crucial info. Prompt protagonist actions. See Ruby and Cas in S4. It's impossible for two people + antagonists to move a story along.

Side characters are supposed to get minor character arcs. It's how you give the mains some breathing room and prevent the show from getting repetitive. It helps the viewers get attached. It's makes them more interesting. As a bonus, it often loops in the main characters, leading to...

Side characters should have well built relationships - platonic, familial, parental, whatever - with the main characters. Not necessarily structuring their lives around them, but friends should show up regularly. No one chooses to live in isolation just because. If you haven't established a strong in-narrative reason why your main characters wouldn't have any friends (and Supernatural doesn't) then it makes no sense for them not to care. And kinda makes them assholes for no reason.

And finally, not developing side characters normally and keeping them around still doesn't let you write a show without side characters. It literally just makes more of them. Every writer who needs a side character to fill a supporting role in their episode just makes one up if they don't have an established pool to pull from. Or they grab a character they liked from a previous one-off. Or they replace a character that got killed off, starting the development from scratch. Killing Kevin gives us Donatello. Ugh.

It's just... there is a reason shows do not have a two person cast. Can anyone point to any other show they think successfully pulled that off for more than a year or two??? Can they tell me how they think S4 would have worked as a plot with no Ruby or Cas (or Bobby or Anna or Uriel or-)? And why they think any season after that magically regained the ability?

Bronly hostility toward side characters (both in the fandom and the writing room) didn't change the necessity of having them, it just prevented the show from having good ones for most of it's run. And their frequent proposed solution is that the show should have given us more underdeveloped one-off characters instead of (rarely) bringing people back???

(And now I'm thinking how even the "good" side characters of Dabb era weren't allowed to do a lot of this either, despite getting more episodes. Society if Rowena was finally the replacement for Ruby's vacant supporting role and Sam actually got a Witch!Sam arc.)

Side characters exist for legitimate storytelling reasons. They aren't optional past a certain point. The only option is whether you handle them well, and why the hell would you choose bad decisions over good ones?

#spn #bronly wank #side characters #tropes #narrative structure #ladyluscinia #spn needs john as an offscreen but wildly present side character in S1 #in S2 they have bobby ellen jo and ash filling supporting roles from the start #even in the beginning sam and dean weren't enough to move the plot on their own #why would anyone think they could somehow do it years later (*cough* sera gamble S7 *cough*)???#meta

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deeeepsteep · 2 years

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Trauma is really fucking weird. It conditions you to believe that there is something inherently broken in you that you can’t fix, and even though you can’t see it, everyone else can. It convinces you that there’s something wrong with you that makes you different than everyone else, and this difference throws down a bold, impenetrable dividing line between you and the rest of the world. You can never cross this line. You can never step over it. You can never find a way around it. You’re doomed to spend the rest of your existence watching the rest of the world move on without you. Forever an observer but never a participant. You don’t belong here. There isn’t a place for you in this world.

It makes you scared of people. You don’t know who to trust or how to trust. You can’t tell the difference between someone who wants to hurt you and someone who wants to be your friend. Your fear of getting hurt again grips you so hard to the point where you don’t want to take any risks and you shut the world out altogether. If no one can get to you, no one can hurt you - but if no one can get to you, that means you’re alone. You have no one except that voice inside your head that tells you you’re broken, you’re not normal, you don’t belong, you’re unlovable. Impossible to love, maybe.

And it hurts. It hurts so fucking much. The loneliness squeezes the air out of your lungs. It’s the ache pulsating in the dead centre of your chest. It’s the burning in your eyes when you can’t stop yourself from another spontaneous crying fit. You try everything to numb the pain - drugs, alcohol, turbulent relationships, conjuring elaborate fantasies in your head where you’re loved and wanted - but nothing actually helps. If anything, they’re temporary reprieves. They help you forget for a little while, but it never truly goes away. It’s always lurking somewhere, bubbling just beneath the surface, and when you least expect it, it bursts out and twists a new knife into you, and the hurting starts all over again, so you’re forced to find another temporary reprieve. It’s a never ending cycle.

And that pain can mutate and fester into something angrier, something more volatile. You start to hate yourself. You don’t know why you’re broken. You didn’t ask to be broken. You didn’t ask for this to happen to you, so why should you suffer the consequences? Why should you bear the weight of someone else’s bad decisions? It’s not fair. This world isn’t fair. It’s full of people who cheat on and steal from each other. It’s built on systems that were created specifically to exploit and oppress certain people while a small select group gets to sit pretty in privilege and wealth. This world is unjust, cruel, and painful. You want no part of it. You wish you didn’t have to be involved in it. Suddenly, the only things you see about this world are things that cause pain. You zero in on the different ways people hurt each other, the ways they step on each other to get ahead. People are selfish. They’re fake. They’re superficial. They only care about themselves. Who wants to live in a world like that?

Yeah, trauma is fucking weird. It forces you to wear…whatever the opposite of rose coloured glasses is, I guess. When you’ve been hurt and mistreated so badly, it’s easy to believe that the world is out to get you and a genuinely good person is impossible to find. It’s easy to succumb to that mentality. Logically you know that life isn’t so black and white, but you think in a binary because it’s just easier that way. It gives you justification for avoiding people. It gives you justification for the anger you feel towards everything - because it’s easier to focus on the world’s problems instead of your own. Hailing “fuck society” and listing every single thing that’s wrong with this world is easier than looking inwards and figuring out why you’re so angry and where this anger came from.

But the fact of the matter is that life is too short to be pissed off all the time. It may be easier to look at the world through a black and white lens, but we all know it’s a lot more complicated than that. Life is a spectrum of different colours, and sometimes they mishmash together to the point where you’re stuck with grey. A lot of life deals with the grey area. It can be unclear sometimes. Confusing. Vague. But it’s there even though we don’t like acknowledging it sometimes, and whether we like it or not, we have to deal with it eventually.

Because life isn’t perfect. This world isn’t perfect. Nothing will ever be perfect - but that’s a good thing. We need some bad to balance out the good. Without the bad, we wouldn’t have a good in the first place. The bad is what motivates us to get up, dust ourselves off, and try again. It motivates us to grow and learn. It propels us forward. It makes us want to do better. We can’t have a better if there’s nothing to improve from.

People are imperfect. Relationships are not perfect. Sometimes they will hurt you, and sometimes you will get hurt really bad. But it’s not about avoiding everyone so you eliminate the risk of getting hurt. It’s about figuring out who’s worth hurting for, and that can be really hard to do when you’ve been hurt before and you don’t know who to trust, but if you don’t open yourself up to taking that risk you will be alone forever, and the hurt that plagues you will stick with you. You’ll be stuck in that never ending cycle.

This world can be cruel. People can be cruel. But there are things in it that are beautiful too. There are people in it who love you no matter how broken you are. They see your fragmented pieces and love you all the same. They love every single piece of you, even the pieces that are tiny and jagged and hurt if you handle them incorrectly. You throw your walls up to protect yourself, but there are people who are banging on them with their fists, begging you to let them in. They want to learn how to handle your broken pieces correctly. They want to let you know that you are not impossible to love, and that they’re here to hold you together on days when you feel like you’re falling apart. They love you despite the horrible things that happened to you, and you can’t feel that love if you don’t take that risk and let them in.

The fact of the matter is that sometimes, the people you love will hurt you, and sometimes you will hurt them. But the difference between them and the ones who hurt you for the sake of hurting you is that they vow to learn from their mistakes so they won’t hurt you again. They take their bad experiences and use it as motivation to become a better version of themselves, and you should do the same for them. Maybe it’s impossible to have a perfect relationship, but you can do what you can to make it as good as possible.

It’s possible to find happiness, success, fulfilment, and love again even after trauma initially ripped these things away from you. It’s possible to learn how to open up to others again. It’s possible to find enjoyment and beauty in this world again. It’s possible to put your broken pieces back together and make something newer and stronger out of it - but you can’t do any of these things if you don’t allow yourself to.

And I get it. It’s really hard to step out of the safety of your coping mechanisms, even though you’re fully aware that some of these coping mechanisms aren’t good or healthy for you. We have a tendency to stick to what’s familiar, even if what’s familiar makes things worse. But if we don’t step out of our comfort zone, if we don’t find a way to free ourselves from the elaborate web of coping mechanisms we wove for ourselves in an attempt to keep us safe, we’ll never move on. We’ll never truly heal. We’ll be stuck in a loop, forever repeating the events that caused us to weave that web in the first place. We relive our trauma in so many ways, many of which we aren’t fully conscious of.

Our past partially defines who we are. It sets a course for who we could be in the future. Our good and bad experiences shape us into the person we are today, and even though you had some really terrible things happen to you, you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t experience them. Despite what your trauma tells you, you are worthy of love. You are not broken. You are not defective. Despite the shit you’ve been through, you are wonderful, complicated, and special. Maybe you’re a little rough around the edges, but that doesn’t make you any less worthy of love and acceptance. You deserve to be loved - not just by others, but by yourself too.

You don’t have to be okay with your past to accept it for what it is, but accepting your past is the first step in overcoming that hatred, that confusion, that pain you feel swirling around inside of you. Those shitty things that happened to you shouldn’t have happened in the first place, but they happened, and a part of overcoming trauma is acknowledging it. You can’t spend the rest of your life pretending it never happened. You can cook up as many elaborate utopian fantasies in your head as you please. You can stir up political and economical unrest for the mere chance of waking up in a parallel universe where things went the way they were supposed to. But none of that will absolve you of the alienation you feel towards yourself. The self-hatred will always be there if you keep running from it. There’s a point where you have to stop running, turn around, look at it straight in the eye, and say “No, you are wrong. I am worthy of love and acceptance, and I’m not going to let you have control over me anymore. No more playing God without permission.”

And of course it’s natural to wish things were different. If we had a chance to relive our past and make different choices, why wouldn’t we take it? If we were allowed to live in a world without pain, why wouldn’t we? But the fact of the matter is that it’s not possible, even though we really want it to be. We can’t turn back time. We can’t skip this world and start over in a new one. Our past can be painful, but it can also be a learning experience, and we can use the pain from our past to make a better future. It won’t erase what happened, nothing ever will, but that doesn’t mean we can’t make something good out of it. This place will never be perfect, but we can at least put in the work to make it as good as we possibly can. We owe that to ourselves and to the people who showed up and stayed for us.

I started watching Mr. Robot when it first came out in 2015. I was going through one of the darkest periods of my life back then - the rockiest of rock bottoms, and that says a lot because I’ve been through a ton of rock bottoms in my lifetime. I was a lot like Elliot back then too. I was angry. I was hurt. I was alone. I abused drugs and alcohol to stave off the pain. I was shitty to a lot of people who didn’t deserve it. I lashed out at the world for its various injustices. I was hurt and angry but I wasn’t really sure why I was hurt and angry. I just knew that I felt this way and I couldn’t hold it in. I had to take it out - and sometimes I took it out on the world, but I mostly took it out on myself. I hated myself so fucking much. In a lot of ways, I still do, but back then it was so potent that I felt it burning inside of me. It was this poison that spread and infected everything in its wake. I was insanely toxic and insufferable.

But as the show progressed, Elliot grew and learned, and I felt like I grew and learned alongside him. By the time season 4 came around and I watched 411 for the first time I was, again, in the same position as him. This world isn’t perfect, but it’s worth fighting for because I finally stopped running from what was causing me pain in the first place so I can confront it and accept it for what it is, and that gave me the clarity I desperately needed in order to realize that I’m not alone and I have people in this world who love me even on days when I feel like I’m 100% unlovable. The love these people have for me is teaching me how to love myself, and that love is what makes this world saving. The love these people have for me will help start the healing process. Elliot wants to make this world a better place so it can be better for the people who love him, and it made me realize that I wanted to do the same.

I still have bad days. Sometimes they can be really bad, and it’ll be reminiscent of how things were like before, but I always bounce back eventually because I know I can now. I’m not totally “there” yet, but I know I have the ability to get there someday because this amazing show helped me see that it truly is possible to heal from the shitty things that happened to you. Maybe you can’t go back to the way things were before the trauma happened, but that doesn’t mean things can’t be good again. Hell, maybe they can be better than how it was before, but I won’t be able to find out if I don’t allow myself to start healing.

At the risk of sounding dramatic, this show saved my life. It motivated me to curb my drinking problem. It gave me the courage to try professional mental health help again, and to actually take it seriously this time instead of hiding and purposely omitting things like I did in the past. After cycling through different psychiatrists throughout my childhood, adolescence, and early adulthood, I finally sought therapy for the first time after the show ended in 2019, and I think I’ve been making progress. I’m unpacking a lot of things from my past and trying to dig deeper so I can find the root of my trauma, the shitty behaviour I’ve been exhibiting for so long, and maladaptive coping mechanisms. Like Elliot, there’s a lot I don’t remember, and I’m afraid of finding out what’s lurking underneath, but whatever it may be, I know I can handle it, because if Elliot can remember the awful things that happened to him and come out of it with a renewed sense of hope for himself and the motivation to keep moving forward, I can too.

Mr. Robot changed me at my core. It changed me for the better. It inspires me to keep pushing forward, even on days when I feel like everything is impossible. It reminds me that I’m not alone. It reminds me that “deletion” is not the answer and that I have reasons to stick around. It gives me the strength and courage I need to find my monster so I can eventually turn the key. We’ll always be a part of Elliot Alderson, and we’re the best part because we’re the part that changed him, but he also gave me the motivation to become the best part of myself. If I helped change him, then I can help change myself too. I can be better. I will be better. I know this now, and I know this because this show gave me what I need to make this realization for myself.

Thank you, Elliot Alderson. Thank you, Rami Malek. Thank you, Sam Esmail.

Thank you, Mr. Robot.

#mr. robot #mr robot #elliot alderson #rami malek

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sugarstickery · 3 years

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An Allegory Within the Dark

This is an unofficial fan translation of chapter 3 of Jujutsu Kaisen’s first light novel, Departing Summer and Returning Autumn by Gege Akutami and Ballad Kitaguni.

Summary: Mahito stumbles across an unusual human in his search for a place to call ‘home’.

Featured characters: Primarily Mahito, with brief appearances from Hanami and Jogo, along with an unnamed novel-only character

Timeline: An undefined time prior to the events of the Vs. Mahito arc

An Allegory Within the Dark

If you want to hide a tree, you go to the middle of a forest.

So if you’re looking to hide a person, you should go to the middle of a city.

Following that logic, it makes sense for curses worthy of being the true humans to set up their hideout in the city center.

Cursed spirits would actually have it much easier if they spent their time in places crammed with fear where humans and the like can’t live: deep in the mountains or in densely wooded areas, for example.

But for a group of curses plotting to overturn the current era, a base in the heart of the city is crucial for invasion and seeking refuge. That being the case, it’s also better to try aiming for a location with a high concentration of negativity.

Anyway, that’s how some employees from a scam business ended up massacred.

“This really is the simplest way to handle it. All of them nest together up here away from the public eye, so clean-up is a cinch.”

Jogo laughed while trampling the burning remains of a corpse underfoot.

Roughly two minutes ago, there were about six humans in the office.

The curses considered a few ways to handle dispatching them but ultimately decided that burning was the fastest, so Jogo quickly turned them to ash.

“But humans used this building, didn’t they? Won’t it be a problem if there’s property management or something?” Mahito asked, poking at an ostentatious vase displayed on a shelf.

Apparently the concern was unnecessary. Jogo tried to answer with a grin, but a nonsensical language cut into their conversation.

“⏁⊑⟒⟟⍀ ⎎⍜⋏⏁ ⟟⌇ ☊⎍⌇⏁⍜⋔”

“Oi, bastard—! Stop talking, Hanami! It makes my head itch!”

Though Hanami spoke in nothing but meaningless sounds, the intention behind it was somehow transmitted directly into the minds of others. This was usually unpleasant and it irritated Jogo.

When he noticed Mahito still looking his way, Jogo continued to explain despite his frustration.

“Hmph... What? There’s no need to worry. I asked Geto what his aim was, and it looks like these were the kind of underhanded humans who got involved in plenty of unethical things.”

“Hm. So basically, other humans won’t actually come close if they get that curse stuff happens here.”

“Exactly. Any respectable, straight-laced human would never come near this place under normal circumstances. It’s the perfect city-center hideout.”

“Is it really?”

“...What is it, Mahito? You don’t seem satisfied. What’s there to worry about? It would put us in a great position to start preparing our plans for the city, and it’s great for a quick escape if we need one.”

“Mm... No, you’re right, but...”

“But what? Spit it out.”

“It’s just... This room is really tacky.”

“Huh?”

With a pop, a small eruption burst forth from Jogo’s head. His narrowed eye looked like a painting of a gently sloping mountain.

“It’s tasteless, isn’t it? Stuff like that gaudy gold lion in the sparkly jar or this cheap-looking sideboard.”

“What are you even saying?! I have no idea what’s gotten into you lately, but you’ve been so annoying!”

“Movies.”

“Movies? Are those overly-embellished portrayals of humans really that interesting?”

“They’re references for my studies on the structure of a soul,” Mahito replied with an ambiguous smile.

If humans could see him, they might be reminded of a proud elementary schooler discussing the knowledge they gained from a book report.

“If I’m being honest, I don’t find the stories that interesting either, but I don’t hate the sense of visual aesthetics that humans have. That said, this room has too many useless colors and really hurts the eyes.”

“Such bratty, selfish complaints... We can just burn or toss anything that’s an eyesore.”

“No need, I’m going to look for a place to settle down on my own.”

“What? Ah, hey— Where are you going?”

Not waiting for Jogo’s response, Mahito waved over his shoulder and vanished like smoke or a gentle breeze, off to who-knows-where.

“Geez… Maybe it’s because he was born from human fear, but even knowing he’s a curse, he tends to be way too frivolous. Watching movies and all…”

While grumbling out his complaints, Jogo took a pipe from his shirt pocket to put in his mouth.

Unlike human cigarettes, this wooden pipe somehow imitated a screaming face when smoked.

“But that Mahito...”

Jogo spun around to survey the room with his one eye.

“...He says that, but it doesn’t seem tacky to me.”

“⊑⏃⋏⏃⋔⟟”

“I already said shut up!!”

You can only find a hideaway that suits you by looking for it on your own.

Mahito wandered through the city with this in mind. He alternated left and right turns on a whim any time he happened across a traffic light, walked alongside stray cats, or sometimes simply went in the direction of clouds that he liked the shape of.

While traveling along his chosen path like this, he keenly felt just how laughable humans were.

Though the city belongs to them, no one walking in and out of it was more free than Mahito.

Everyone seemed constrained. They were captured by ties of obligation and vanity, living in a wide, deep, big city with such narrow outlooks.

Unaffected by the enormous sky sprawling out endlessly overhead, they box themselves into their concrete city with their own hands and limited perception of souls, passing the time by whittling their lives down further and further.

Mahito even learned the words for some of these human concepts to study later.

For example, they call it “morals”. They call it “common sense”. They call it “emotion”.

But a human soul isn’t anything more than the resulting mechanical movement that comes from external stimuli.

And so they let go of freedom and live tightly controlled lives, fearing the judgmental stares of others, stooping to flattery for society’s approval.

“...What a waste.”

Everyone is bound by ostentatious shackles of their own making.

That’s why these curses know there has to be a change, as far as humans go. Those who cannot do anything but crawl in such an unsightly way under the magnificent sky must hand over the world.

Mahito thinks. He ponders over any topic his soul turns toward. He walks wherever the wind blows him.

Before long, the time had come for the sun to descend in the western sky. He could hear the burbling of a river.

“Not bad.”

The hideaway Mahito found was under a bridge, across the river.

It was a tunnel, vacant and huge like a temple.

Pipes ran along the inside, clear water flowing from them and into the river. It looked like wastewater was drained here after being purified, so there wasn’t much discomfort.

Apart from the humid air and the moss that emitted a peculiar grassy smell, it seemed wide enough to splash and jump around in, and the concrete’s cool texture provided a refreshing welcome.

There’s a season that curses are partial to.

Negative human emotions accumulate from the end of winter to spring, and it could be said that the rainy season served as the so-called peak of their ripening.

The inside of the damp tunnel held the same atmosphere. There was a gloominess there in the dim lighting that could easily nurture fear. It gently moistened Mahito’s skin; he felt cozy.

“Yeah, let’s stay here.”

When choosing a place to live, it’s best to trust your instincts.

Perhaps humans should do the same, but what they can’t readily do, Mahito can decide without hesitation. If he’s free when he wanders, then he’s free when he settles down, too.

Mahito stepped into the tunnel in good spirits, knocking solidly on the concrete floor.

The soul’s metabolism smooths out in comforting spaces. But…

“Huh?”

After walking a short distance, Mahito discovered “that”.

He initially thought it was some garbage or something that a human illegally dumped. But before long, it became clear that it was a sack-like silhouette leaning against a wall.

At first glance, it perhaps looked like a mere collection of rags.

But the shape of a soul was there.

—Ah, it’s alive.

Yes, just as Mahito had realized, it was a human.

The tattered clothing and wildly overgrown hair and beard hid his shape, but it was undoubtedly a human.

His exact age wasn’t clear from his outward appearance, but whether he was 60 or over 80, he looked elderly.

Mahito thought it was a bit of a pain.

There was already a visitor living in his precious hideaway.

Of course, taking care of this issue would be an easy matter for him. But he felt the same discomfort as a homeowner finding a stain on the wall of their new house.

‘Anyway, if I’m gonna deal with this, let’s get it done,’ Mahito thought, reaching out toward the old man with a little sigh.

Whereupon, unexpectedly, the old man spoke.

“...I’m sorry if you’re displeased.”

“Hm?”

“I don’t know what you came here to do, but... I’m sure your mood has soured after stumbling across the home of an old fool. But I have nowhere to go, either.”

Mahito was a little taken aback.

The old man was clearly aware of Mahito and turned toward him to speak. This wouldn’t be surprising at all if he was talking to a fellow human.

But Mahito is a curse.

The eyes of a mere human can’t clearly perceive cursed spirits.

It isn’t impossible, though. If humans are born with cursed energy, it isn’t unusual for them to be aware of the existence of curses.

What caught Mahito’s attention was this old man’s lack of ‘eyes’.

As in, he had no eyes in the physical sense. Instead, in the empty sockets that once held them, there was a burn scar that was painful just to look at.

Even sorcerers rely on their eyes to view the world.

They depend on their field of vision to spot cursed spirits. That’s why so many of them use sunglasses and the like to conceal their line of sight, as it helps them remain unaffected. It also helps them maintain a balanced mind when their daily life overflows with curses.

However, that was not the case for this old man.

“Can you see me?”

When Mahito asked, the old man answered with a gentle nod.

“At the very least, I can feel you.”

“But you can’t see the world?”

“Naturally. That includes the scenery, what you look like, what color your skin is, and even your gender. Even so... I know you’re there.”

“...Are you a sorcerer?”

“Most likely not.”

“You’re being pretty vague, even though you’re talking about yourself.”

“For a long time, that’s what I’ve been the most vague about.”

Mahito began to notice something strange.

He can feel the shape of a human’s soul.

He knows the movement of a soul’s metabolism, whether it takes on a harsh form, withers weakly, or flickers with liveliness.

However, this old man’s soul was hardly metabolizing.

It was like a meadow with no wind, or a still sea, or the blue sky on a cloudless day.

No, it would be most appropriate to compare it to a stone.

His soul was like a stone on the side of the road.

No fancy ornamentation, no polishing. Unmoving, unwavering.

Calmly passing the time while growing moss.

That was the shape this old man’s soul had.

No matter how calm or how old a person is, the human soul always flickers.

As the years stack up, common sense doesn’t disappear, selfishness isn’t eliminated, and fear isn’t conquered.

But this old man was different.

The old man’s soul was at peace. He had sincerely accepted that everything would decay with time, but that didn’t mean he would throw his life away. It was truly similar to the way in which nature existed.

It was Mahito’s first time meeting anyone like this.

For a while, the tunnel became something of a den for Mahito.

He had gotten a hammock from somewhere, which he hung up between the pipes. He lounged in it and read, passing the time in comfort.

In a movie about life on a deserted island, a human who was desperate to survive made a hammock. Through it, he was able to regain a little peace of mind.

Since it looked surprisingly comfortable, Mahito gave it a try and it worked out nicely.

The arguments and fights of the outside world didn’t reach the inside of the tunnel, where only the burble of the small stream could be heard.

It provided a good environment for soothing the soul.

While leisurely absorbing new knowledge from his books, Mahito would sometimes absentmindedly gaze up toward the ceiling, or glance down at the corner where the old man squatted, looking as he always did.

“How do you live like this? It’s pretty mysterious...”

In the end, Mahito didn’t kill the old man.

It’s important to note that the old man wasn’t much of a hindrance for him. If it would make no difference whether he was there or gone, then Mahito figured getting rid of him would be more of a hassle.

The old man was just there, even quieter and more carefree than a stray cat.

Mahito knew the phrase: ‘man is only a reed, but he is a thinking reed’.

He found it hilarious and also genuinely liked it. It simultaneously boasted about being trapped in thoughts of the soul, while also showing that humans were frail as weeds.

It could be said that the old man was an unthinking reed, then.

No – he was even quieter than that; more like grass or some type of moss. In any case, the old man said nothing and simply carried on living.

Every now and then, the old man would suddenly shuffle off elsewhere, but he would be back to sleep before Mahito knew it. He was surely getting food from somewhere, but he never seemed to gain weight. If he lost any while in the tunnel, he would eat just enough to gain it back when he left, and no more.

It was a style of living so close to nature that it seemed more like a phenomenon than a life.

“That’s why I seriously wonder if you can see me.”

The suspicion was uttered suddenly.

Mahito wasn’t exactly speaking to the old man. Rather, his tone was that of someone talking to themselves.

But when he noticed that the old man’s soul didn’t waver even after hearing him speak, Mahito finally addressed him directly.

“How long have you been here?”

“Let’s see… I think a few winters have passed, but I’m not sure,” the old man muttered, his reply quiet.

Since they were two beings with souls who were aware of each other’s existence, Mahito felt it would be more natural to chat every now and then.

“Don’t you get bored?”

When spoken to in a soft tone, the old man also responded softly.

“I’ve forgotten how to be bored.”

“How do you usually pass the time here?”

“I don’t do anything, really. I just listen to the sounds.”

“The sounds?”

“The sounds of the water flowing.”

“...Is it fun?”

“It’s not. But I forgot how to have fun a long time ago, too, so it’s not an issue.”

So it was like that. Mahito nodded.

If this old man could no longer even feel the pain of boredom, perhaps his soul was worn down.

Humans of the city gasp and struggle through the hurt of not having enough, yet always wish for more even when they get what they wanted. Their souls grew fat and tattered through the rich accumulation of these negative feelings.

So in that regard, from Mahito’s point of view, the old man had a thin soul – but it could be said that was clever of him.

A fat and full human soul leads to a fear of losing the gratifying present moment, which in turn gives birth to curses.

“It’s hard to get your attention. What’s your name?”

When Mahito asked, the old man looked into the air for just a second.

“I left that behind. You can call me whatever you like.”

“There are humans without names? Even curses have them.”

“If you don’t meet other people, you don’t need a name.”

“Isn’t it a problem if you don’t have one?”

“When is it a problem?”

“When it’s time to be buried.”

“I don’t need a gravestone with a name. I can just be stuffed into a common grave, or maybe I’ll rot undiscovered and return to the earth that way.”

“Can’t you take a joke?”

“…Was that a joke?”

The old man didn’t laugh. Neither did Mahito.

But Mahito had the feeling that this old man was childish, contrary to his appearance. His lack of attachments created an unsullied disposition that might make him younger than he looked.

His interest in the old man simmered and surged.

It was his first time seeing this type of human, his first time feeling a soul with this form. For Mahito, this was a rare specimen.

What kind of path must life take to make this kind of human? What would be the most intriguing shape to make with a soul like that? What uses could one plan for such a person?

And what kind of curse would be born from them?

With these questions fueling his curiosity, Mahito started to chat with the old man.

“Why are you here?”

“…Why?”

The old man looked up toward the ceiling through his unruly bangs.

His eye sockets were empty, but it seems like even without sight, humans tended to stare into nothing when they were thinking. One curiosity of Mahito’s was satisfied.

“You weren’t born and raised in this tunnel, right? As a human, you must have been in that noisy city.”

“Ah, that. I lived a fairly busy life a long time ago. I inherited the house, worked, made money and supported my family.”

“So you were a human in a pretty good position.”

“In human society, yes. Looking back on it now, it was all meaningless.”

“So... what, you basically started living in a hole like a mouse, then?”

“I did that because I lost everything that I needed up to then. I lost my social status, my money, and a place where I belonged.”

“You lost it all?”

“I was tricked. That’s when my eyes were burned, so I lost my sight then, too.”

Mahito incidentally recalled the company Jogo attacked.

“You got tricked, huh? You seem pretty good-natured about it.”

“That’s because I didn’t care much about being tricked.”

“You’re a weird old man. Is this some kind of hobby where you get your kicks when people deceive you or something?”

“I’m just saying, that’s the kind of person I was back then. The ones who tricked me were my old friend and my wife. My eyes were burned in that so-called “accident”¹; they claimed I wasn’t of sound mind and body after that, and under the guise of caring for me, they stole everything I worked for before I knew it.”

“That’s a pretty flashy way to trick someone, isn’t it? You’re talking like it’s someone else’s problem.”

“Those two loved each other, and I was loved by no one. Knowing that was more monumental to me than being tricked.”

It was hard for Mahito to interpret what the old man said.

Love. Is it really such an important word?

It’s said that curses born from love exist in the world. It seems there are tremendously powerful ones among them, too. But Mahito doesn’t understand how the mechanism by which people love each other is any different from a cat’s attachment to a blanket.

Still, Mahito knows for a fact that people are obsessed with it.

“Didn’t you curse them? The ones who tricked you.”

“Not really.”

“’Not really’, huh. You know, normally a human in that situation would get angry and hold grudges, and it would make the shape of their soul deteriorate.”

“It’s true, though. I don’t think I had the energy to even consider seeking revenge or hurting them.”

“...I get it.”

Mahito nodded, filling in the blanks.

Regardless of whether or not he can guess the trends in human emotion, Mahito has studied many movies, novels and poetry so far.

Then there were the humans he tinkered with. Mahito could put together the pieces he gleaned from those things and use them to break down the old man’s story.

“So basically, you were in despair. So much despair that it was like your soul was about to die. That’s how you broke through the creation of grudges and curses and ended up like this.”

The old man slowly shook his head.

“I may have been disappointed, but I don’t believe I felt the intense despair you’re thinking of.”

“Are ‘disappointment’ and ‘despair’ different?”

“They are; this is just my personal experience.”

The old man raised his face, following the memories.

“There was no burning resentment or turbulent sorrow. It’s just... I was tired, I guess. Between work, assets, reputation, my life situation and duties, dealing with others, caring about the family name... I think I was probably just tired and worn out because of it all.”

“And that’s why you didn’t get mad even after being tricked?”

“I was at peace. They say the soul gets lighter after going through disappointments.”

The old man’s voice was calm.

It had a cool quality to it, like muddy water that had been filtered clean.

“I couldn’t see, I had no money, I had no love... But as I was walking through the city with nothing to my name, it all suddenly became inconsequential. And then, as I looked around, I saw the city in a new light.”

“Even though you can’t see?”

“Yes. When you can’t see anything, it’s just sound and wind that goes on forever anywhere you are. I couldn’t even see the walls blocking the city in. It was just endless darkness spreading out forever, like a starless night. For the first time, I understood how wide the world was. And I thought to myself... ah, I’m free, aren’t I?”

Mahito blinked rapidly.

This old man’s thinking didn’t fit any other case he had gathered so far.

Even hearing about his past, he couldn’t understand the old man’s thoughts.

But even from Mahito’s point of view, the old man was certainly free.

Without so much as leaving the middle of this tunnel, he knew that the sky was vast.

Perhaps he knew it better than any member of high society walking around freely in the city. He knew the wide spread of the sky, the soft caress of the wind, the gentle sounds of the water.

This old man, who looked like a simple rakugoka², had no property or social standing. He even lost his connection to other humans... And maybe that’s precisely why he could uncover the elusive meaning of the word ‘freedom’.

He was just existing, just being alive, without attachments, grudges or curses.

“So basically ‘not all those who wander are lost’?”

“Yes, though quoting Tolkien’s works might be a little tedious.”

Mahito smiled when the man immediately caught the reference to a book he just happened to read.

“Were you a bookworm?”

“All I did was cram a lot of information in.”

“It’s good to be well-read.”

If curses are born from the fear that humans feel, could this old man even be considered human?

As Mahito is, he struggles with the expression of human emotions.

But he was calm.

For the first time since coming into contact with humans, he had a feeling of peace.

“I think if everyone in the world was like you, I wouldn’t have been born.”

Mahito looked back at his book.

The old man, staring into nothing as always, fell silent again.

Curses are born from humans, but they also kill humans. There is no way for the two to coexist.

But in this tunnel, a curse and a human were doing exactly that.

Though distorted, this peaceful period of time flowed by gently.

It’s only natural for humans to hate and fear other humans.

Since they can’t see souls, they can only make guesses about the feelings of others, and they’re swayed by their own emotions.

They don’t understand that these things are just a reflection of the soul’s metabolism. They don’t even know where their soul is.

Mahito investigated the matter.

This blind man lost his sight and his connection to others, so his soul received less stimulation.

And so, no longer influenced by unnecessary things in the physical world, he spent a lot of time facing his inner world and reflecting.

“It’s kind of like a monk’s training. Through strong introversion, a person looks at their soul more often.”

Mahito walked around the city, skimming through a beaten-up copy of the Heart Sutra.

It was a sutra handbook that focused on controlling the soul. It looked like humans of the past did their own research into freeing the soul from the material world.

The old man’s life ended up in a similar state without him setting out to do it on purpose.

That was likely how he learned to feel other souls through the darkness he lived in. Mahito concluded this was the reason he was aware of curses.

“I think he was already predisposed, but... seems like it’s easier for introverted humans to show promise.”

If he gave the old man’s situation even deeper consideration, he could probably make a lot of guesses about a sorcerer’s training. There’s even a way to encourage the first manifestation of cursed energy.

In that case, it should also be possible to take a talented person and ‘make’ them into a sorcerer or curse-user.

Unleashing a curse-user made by a curse onto a sorcerer...

That might be a fun experiment. It’s easier to shake up a human’s soul by having them fight other humans, rather than just exorcising curses. Sukuna’s vessel should be no exception.

Although...

—Maybe it’s fine to do that a little later?

Yes, Mahito thought it over at his leisure.

He is free. When it’s time to move, he moves. When it’s time to rest, he rests.

And he was not in the mood to launch that plan into action.

Rather, for the time being, he just wanted to gather knowledge and indulge in thought. He also got some new books and wanted to read fantasy novels while basking in the quiet comfort of the tunnel.

Mahito’s gait became lighter. While walking alongside the throng of people, he even began to hum.

Suddenly, a loud voice rang out from between two buildings.

“—so damn annoying, yeah?”

Looking over that way, he saw two young humans: a man with long, thin hair, and a muscular skinhead. They were undoubtedly people who looked like trouble.

The long-haired man listened as the skinhead rambled on with his complaints, seemingly in some kind of sullen mood.

“Damn, it’s seriously freezing. Anyway, every last one of ‘em just puts on shitty airs, but it’s all just talk. Nothin’ but excuses. Ah, I wanna kill ‘em all...”

“You say that, but come on. You talk big about wanting to beat these guys to death when you’re pissed, but could you actually kill someone?”

“Sure. Ain’t like killing’s hard.”

“Seriously?”

Mahito squinted and listened, the conversation going in one ear and out the other.

It’s not that he disliked the way they acted or how they spoke bluntly about their heart’s desires. But Mahito knew people like this were all talk.

“Yeah– seriously, anyone’s fine, I just wanna kill someone.”

Then maybe you should do it without saying anything.

Better yet, he thought about practicing some killing methods on them. But Mahito felt the light weight of the book in his hand as he reached out, and he stopped.

Rather than sparing any consideration for this, he just wanted to go back to the comfort of the tunnel and read.

“I’ll kill ‘em.”

The skinhead’s grumbling voice sounded like a spell.

But the words would find no power or heart to shelter in. Shut away between these buildings, the most a person can do is talk to themselves. It’s best for humans like this to stick to the narrow back alleys, foolishly thinking they’re enjoying a wide world.

Mahito averted his gaze and made his way back home.

“Why did Gregor become a bug?”

Mahito suddenly asked the old man, not taking his eyes off the novel.

It was a famous book by Franz Kafka.

A story in which a human unexpectedly turns into a poisonous insect.

“The most popular theory is that the bug is a metaphor.”

“Metaphor?”

“It means he was a person who was hated and oppressed within society, treated the same way a human would treat a bug. Kind of like an old man who was suddenly blinded and tricked one day.”

“Is that a joke?”

“Not exactly.”

It was detached and dispassionate, but an answer would come back any time Mahito said something. When conversing with the old man, it felt like talking to a dictionary. He had a lot of information.

He knew about things like the inner workings of the mind and human culture, and he was smart enough to explain it simply in discussions.

For Mahito, who analyzed human souls through books and movies, this old man’s knowledge and conversation helped in its own way.

When do humans get angry? Why do they grieve?

How do they trust and in what ways are they betrayed?

Mahito lived with a different sense of ethics when compared to humans, so there were many things he struggled to interpret. The old man explained them and helped him understand.

He had a strong interest in the experiences of the old man, who had once lived among humans but didn’t act like them.

“After becoming a bug, Gregor eventually hid away like he was told to, but he still ended up being spotted and it led to his death. Jii-san³, why do you think that is?”

“You cannot find peace by avoiding life.”

“That’s a quote from Virginia Woolf, right?”

When Mahito immediately and correctly guessed the source, the old man raised a brow slightly.

“You’re a pretty avid reader, too. Conversations with you are really stress-free.”

“Do you have to go back to living with other humans, then?”

“If you don’t have any attachment to the human world, there’s no need to run from it or stand against it⁴.”

“I see,” Mahito murmured to let the other know he was listening, eyes still on the book.

Even if he wasn’t looking at it, the old man’s perpetually calm soul was aglow in the dark like always.

Mahito read his book in the dim room lit by the brilliance of that soul instead of a candle.

Time quietly flowed through the darkness.

Outside of the tunnel, signs indicating the end of summer crept up.

The end came abruptly.

One day, when Mahito was heading back to the tunnel with an abandoned poetry anthology that he picked up on an aimless walk through the city, he felt a noisiness that shouldn’t have been there.

There were one, two, three swaying souls.

One had a very familiar shape, but it was terribly frail. It was like the dying flame of a candle weakened by the wind.

With the same unchanging gait as always, Mahito stepped into the tunnel.

As expected, the old man was there.

But the unusual thing was the crumpled, strange position that he was in.

He was also sandwiched between two younger men who were looking down at him.

“Oooi, isn’t this bad? Did this guy seriously die?”

A man with long, thin hair spoke in a tone that was not particularly anxious.

“Didn’t I say it? I said I could kill,” a muscular skinhead replied, his voice casual.

“But ain’t this just impulsive?”

“Yeah, well, the old man had some real cheek, looking down on us when he’s this weak. So why not just kick him?”

The skinhead likely played sports, given that his legs were as thick around as logs. Kicking an old man to death would be easier than crushing a can.

The two didn’t seem to have a single scrap of interest in the old man, his life or his soul.

There was no reason, no grudge, no clear murderous intent.

It seemed like they simply arrived at the tunnel somehow. They took the opportunity to do as much violence as they wanted. They beat him on a whim.

It could be said that this way of being is freedom for humans.

Mahito crouched down, peeking at the old man’s face.

The beaten visage of the man with burned eyes came into view. But even at a time like this, his expression was as calm as always.

“Are you going to die?”

Mahito searched for even a mumbled word or two in response.

“...Seems so...”

The old man answered in a hoarse voice. He likely barely had the power left to speak now. It appeared as though the two men didn’t hear him over their loud conversation.

He intently inspected the old man’s soul.

The peaceful soul was not flickering, nor did it hold anger or grief; it was simply coming to an unhurried end.

Mahito was impressed.

This old man had found the true meaning of freedom. He really was released from every tie of obligation in this world. Even on the verge of death, that didn’t change.

Being able to make sure of that with his own two eyes, Mahito felt considerably relieved. In the same way he would watch a flower wither and fall, he observed the old man’s death.

Nevertheless...

“Jii-san?”

He had a feeling.

It’s like seeing a plot twist you don’t want to see if you keep turning the pages of a book.

Or like knowing the contents of a present before you open it.

That kind of buzz spread through Mahito’s chest.

While he puzzled over the instinctive alarm bells screaming at him to stop watching, everything was heading toward its end.

“...I thought I would die alone.”

The old man’s soul dimly flickered.

A smile was on his swollen face.

“...To have someone... here to witness this old fool’s last moments...”

The flicker might have been insignificant, like a single drop breaking the water’s surface. Even so, for an instant near death, at the end of it all...

The old man’s soul ‘metabolized’.

“...Tha...nk... y...”

The old man died smiling.

“. . .”

Mahito’s eyes opened wide, and for a moment, he was frozen.

He thought the old man was different when compared to other humans. To Mahito, he seemed unfettered.

Mahito thought the unique philosophical views stemming from such an extraordinary state of mind had freed him from all the shackles of this world.

But despite all of that, the old man was still captured right in his last moments.

On the brink of death, he clung to someone else so he could avoid a lonely end.

The old man was only human.

For a human, it was likely satisfying enough. Perhaps it was even the proper way for one to die.

“. . .”

Mahito said nothing.

But what felt like a dry wind blew through his chest, leaving him cold.

He didn’t know the name humans gave that emotion. But his consciousness was like yarn tangling in on itself, wriggling around like a worm—

And suddenly, it all cut off at once.

The only thing left behind was the sensation of standing in a dry and barren wasteland.

“—So basically,” the skinhead’s voice echoed. “Police probably won’t do a proper investigation. Not for this old nobody.”

“Hey, hey, hey; that’s still a person,” the long haired man answered lightly.

“Yeah, well, that guy started it.”

“He shoulda looked at who he was talking to before he picked a fight.”

“Anyway, my pants are dirty from all that kicking... That’s a problem.”

“So fussy. That’s what you’re worried about when you just killed a guy? How funny.”

“That ain’t a person. Anyway, don’t you know I like being clean? Ahh, the blood won’t come off... Water doesn’t do any good, right?”

“Yeah, it doesn’t – but more importantly, if you’ve settled down, I’m hungry. Let’s stop by a convenience store.”

“I dunno. If you’re gonna look, buy a bento and let’s get outta here.”

Mahito quickly stood up in the same way one would when they finished looking for something in a store.

A sense of fatigue was deeply ingrained in his body.

Their incoherent voices persisted, reverberating through the tunnel, smeared with excuses and attempts to escape reality. He couldn’t hear the soft burble of the stream.

With deep-seated listlessness, Mahito approached the skinhead as one would move to pick up fallen trash.

Idle Transfiguration. The technique spreads quickly.

And thus, the moment he tapped the man’s back, its shape was no longer human.

“Ee—!!”

If he just killed them, it would create a nuisance in the form of a corpse, so he simply folded it up into something palm-sized and kept it alive.

Then, with a careless sweep⁵ of his hand, he folded up the other man as well.

“Begh—”

It fell silent.

Mahito gathered up the two, now no bigger than chess pieces, and turned his attention down toward the remaining corpse of the old man.

It was now just a bag of meat full of bones. Not even the soul remained, so he couldn’t use Idle Transfiguration to fiddle with it.

He was briefly troubled by its disposal, which served as the biggest inconvenience.

In the tunnel, there nothing but the sound of running water.

It was a day where the sky seemed farther away than usual.

Clouds peeked out from around the buildings and a good feeling was carried in on the wind.

Mahito aimlessly walked about the city.

“Maybe I’ll catch a movie. It’s been ages.”

He picked a tiny, somewhat old-looking theater and snuck in.

He’s had high motivation lately, and it seemed like some unnecessary things had peeled away from his soul, leaving him more carefree than ever.

Thanks to that, he had also begun to toy with humans more often.

If he can fold a person up and make them small, he wanted to test out inflating one instead, but he slept on the idea overnight. It was pretty fun, but he knew that he was getting too absorbed. He also felt that carrying on with too much persistence wasn’t a good thing.

A change of pace every now and then was fine, too.

He hadn’t closely checked to see what was being screened. It was mostly just plain and obscure movies, but if one went in with no expectations, they might come across a surprisingly interesting tale.

Curiously, he had that kind of a feeling.

While walking through the hall of the theater, he casually felt through his pocket, which had grown bulky with the ‘small humans’ that he had touched.

—Speaking of which, he thought that was a nuisance.

He carelessly tossed some of them away.

Opening the door, he stepped into the theater.

Perhaps because it was a weekday, there weren’t many customers. The silhouettes of what appeared to be students filled out a few seats here and there.

From where Mahito stood in the corner, he had a good view of the screen.

Soon, instead of a curtain raising, the theater was engulfed in darkness.

T/N: [1] In this sentence, the implication is that the “accident” was very much orchestrated by the old man’s friend and wife, who burned his eyes somehow and then merely made it look like an accident [2] The rakugoka is the storyteller in rakugo, a form of (often) comedic theater that relies solely on spoken word from the rakugoka, who only uses a fan and hand towel as props [3] A way of referring to old men in general, basically like “gramps/grandpa”; Mahito never calls him by an actual name [4] Essentially, the old man’s saying that he (or anyone) can exist parallel to human society without interacting if they have no attachments to it and can still find peace, contrary to the Woolf quote [5] Kanji reads sweep, furigana reads cleanse (the same word for exorcism that sorcerers use)

Thanks as well to Pixi for help with editing and tl checks! If an officially translated version of the novel becomes available in your country, please consider purchasing it, or consider buying a copy of the original novel in Japanese if possible!

#jujutsu kaisen #mahito #mahito jujutsu kaisen #mahito jjk #jogo jjk #hanami jjk #jujutsu kaisen light novel #translation #departing summer and returning autumn

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retrievablememories · 3 years

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matched | ten (m)

title: matched pairing: alien!ten x black!reader genre: sci-fi, angst, fluff, romance, smut summary: the quest for love leads you to a new dating app with a slight twist—and straight into the inbox of someone who’s light-years out of your usual dating pool. word count: 9.7k warnings: familial conflict, strained parental relationship, mentions of cheating, prejudice/discrimination based on species, body modifications/alien biology, unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), dom!ten, photography during sex, cumshot, squirting, some spanking a/n: as always, i lose all impulse control whenever i get a ten request so i have finished this sooner than i expected

i decided to lean more into the romance plotline than stress too much over the realism of the science-fiction elements with this fic, so there are some inaccuracies/impossibilities...but that’s fiction for you 🙃

AM 2074 (After Migration)

You are lonely.

Your last breakup did not end well, to say the least, and you haven’t dated for a while since then. It seemed like a smart move—a safe one—to shun all romantic relationships until you felt ready again. At the beginning, you were glad to be alone for a while, to regroup and rediscover yourself worrying about another person’s opinions on everything you did. To not have to deal with someone else’s drama.

The toll of not having companionship is gradually getting to you, though. Even if your last relationship was a mess more often than it wasn’t, you still long for those good moments, like going on night dates on the weekends and sharing pillowtalk into long hours of the early morning. You hadn’t realized how much you’d missed those things until all the emotions of it crashed down on you at once.

Your friend Malika claims to have a solution for your loneliness. Now, sitting at this outdoor cafe, you’re simultaneously eager and hesitant to hear what she has to propose, knowing her track record for silly plots.

With twinkling eyes, she looks at you and says, “You should try a dating app.” She clasps her hands together and puts them on the table like she’s made a grand announcement. You absorb her words for a few moments, looking out at the street across from you and watching cars—some hovering above the asphalt, some driven autonomously, and many still with human drivers—pass by.

You eventually sigh, your shoulders slumping. “That’s the big solution you called me out here for? People have been using dating apps for decades, that’s nothing new.”

“Exactly! The fact that they’re still popular even in 2074 is proof that they work, Y/N. You can put yourself out there and talk to dozens of guys without even meeting them in person. If one connection doesn’t work out, you don’t have anything to lose, and you don’t have to see the guy ever again.”

“Maybe I’ll lose my sweet time and patience during the process, though.”

Malika shakes her head and types something into her hologram pad, then holds it up for you to see. The hologram displays a dating app called matched—it reminds you of what Tinder was supposedly like before it became eclipsed by more advanced platforms, though that happened years before you were even born. “This one is kinda new, but it’s gotten popular fast and has good success rates. I’ve tried it before and met some nice guys. Give it at least one chance before you hate on it.”

“Ugh, I don’t know...there are always so many weirdos hanging out on those apps. What if I meet someone who keeps a collection of severed alien tentacles in an icebox in their house? Like that one guy who showed up on the news?”

“...Really?” Malika rolls her eyes. “You’re so dramatic. Stop getting in your own way and just take a risk for once.”

You shake your head at her optimism. “I’ll do it because I know you won’t leave me alone about it, but don’t expect me to find some great love story on this app.”

Once you download the app and start making an account, it becomes pretty obvious that this isn’t just a regular dating platform.

Choosing your gender and age preferences is normal enough, and you pass through those screens quickly until you get to one that gives you two new options.

➤ Species Preference ❐ Human ❐ Extraterrestrial

Whoa. Aliens? An alien-friendly dating app?

You weren’t overly familiar with the mechanics of dating apps, and you certainly didn’t consider that ones allowing aliens might’ve existed until now. It had been 15 years since the first contact with aliens was established, and a little less than a decade had passed since aliens began migrating to Earth and taking up permanent residence—and vice versa.

Humans had little problem with accepting aliens’ technological adaptations and claiming them as their own, though they were far less welcoming of the aliens themselves. That resulted in strained interactions between the two species, with aliens trying their best to assimilate and humans questioning their every motive. As far as personal relationships went, interspecies mingling between humans and extraterrestrials was still fairly uncommon—something that only people who were considered to be on the fringes of society participated in. There were “normal citizens of society” who built relationships with aliens, but many of them also kept it solely as a kink or fetish to be done only in the dark.

You decide to check both options. It feels a little scary, like diving headfirst into the unknown, but you are open to it either way. You’ve interacted with aliens before, both as kind acquaintances and near strangers, and they’ve always been relatively normal in the grand scheme of things—beings trying to survive and make a life for themselves like anyone else. Certainly not plotting how to take over Earth as many people have speculated. If they really wanted to, they possess the technology to have done that ten times over already.

You take a while trying to come up with a clever bio and spend an even longer time mulling over which pictures of yourself to choose, but you eventually complete your profile.

The first few matches you make are not very successful.

Whether it’s human guys feeding you terrible pickup lines or alien guys who can’t make it past the language barrier—or who ask you to move back with them to their home planet after two days of talking—you don’t see any potential love interests during your first two weeks of using the app.

You’re not sure what kind of skills Malika used to make multiple good matches, but maybe you need to interrogate her so you can sharpen your own. So you decide to do exactly that.

“Don’t give up on it just yet. Just be yourself—which also means not being afraid to cuss someone out if they come at you crazy. Some of these dudes lowkey like the mean girl shit, though, which is kinda weird.” Malika speaks from the shimmering translucent mirage of your hologram pad as you walk through the park one afternoon. She couldn’t make it out to meet you today, but you managed to snatch a moment to talk to her even if it couldn’t be face-to-face. “You probably shouldn’t expect to find a boyfriend in the first few days—”

“Girl, I don't think anyone was expecting that. Duh.”

“I’m saying, just give it time!”

“Okay, but listen. You didn’t tell me it’s also for aliens. Have you dated one before? You never told me!” You lower your voice then, not wanting anyone nearby to eavesdrop on your conversation and hear that part. You feel kinda bad for even thinking that way, but it’s hard to shake the stigma associated with interacting with aliens.

“Yes, and it was the best sex I ever had, but maybe I’ll tell you about that later.”

“Sis. Don’t withhold tea from me!”

“Someday when you’re not literally standing in the middle of the park, okay?” Malika shakes her head, smiling.

“Don’t forget about it, either.”

“I won’t. And you know what to do if you find a guy. I want to be the first to know!”

“Sure, sure. I wouldn’t hold my breath on it, though.”

You decide to spend some more time on the app after that conversation instead of just deleting it like you’d planned to initially. And one day, you get another new match that catches your eye out of the many others.

“Ten? Like the number…?” Besides the interesting name, you immediately see that he’s an extraterrestrial. From the Sommu race, as it says in his bio.

You click on his profile.

You’re a little surprised by how pretty he is, which isn’t to say the other aliens you matched with were all hideous. But he doesn’t have tentacles coming out of his face or two sets of eyes, either. The most noticeable thing about his alienness is his blue skin.

“Likes...dancing, art, music, okay so we have an artist type here...dislikes...fruit. Huh. That’s...interesting.”

The pictures of him on his profile are all deliberately artistic, as in they aren’t just some half-baked selfies he took with a hologram pad. You grow increasingly curious. It’s safe to say he’s either super into himself or just appreciates the art of good photography, and you figure there’s only one way to find out. You decide to take the first step and message him.

➤ Nice pictures :)

You don’t know when or if you’ll get a message back, since he’s not online when you send it, so you try not to get your hopes up too much. Maybe you should’ve tried to come up with something more cool and funny—nice pictures?—but you try to remember Malika’s advice and roll your eyes to yourself. There’s no point in getting stressed over a dude you don’t even know yet.

You eventually get a reply back from Ten.

➤ thank you 🙏 are you into photography too? you have talent for taking beautiful photos

You giggle quietly to yourself; another line, but it’s definitely one of the tamer ones you’ve received. Why not see where this one goes?

The first conversation you have consists mostly of the regular getting-to-know-you talk, such as your personal interests and favorite things. You get him to talk more about his photography hobby, which he’s eager to tell you all about—as well as his penchant for art.

To your optimism, you and Ten quickly get comfortable with each other. You soon forget about all the other potential matches you have, but those don't matter much to you anymore. So far, you’ve connected the most successfully with Ten, which means you’re more than glad to stop spending your time reading boring messages from guys who’ve only pretended to have things in common with you.

Things go so well, in fact, that he asks you to meet in person not long after you begin talking to each other.

For your first meetup, you decide to meet at a park nearby—the same one you’d been walking through the day you were talking to Malika about that very dating app. You and Ten have talked through the hologram pad on multiple occasions, so you’re more reassured that you’re not starting from scratch with some faceless being. Still, the thrill of seeing each other in person for the first time is undeniable.

“Y/N?” You turn your head at the sound of your name, and you see Ten walking towards you.

“Ten!” You give him a smile, waving at him. You feel a little more nervous than you usually would on a date, though you can’t tell if it’s the good kind of nervousness. You mostly chalk it up to not having been out with anyone in a while.

Ten’s just as pretty up close as he was in the photos and on camera, if not even more attractive; he’s breathtaking in the light of the sun. His hair is styled nicely, meticulously-place strands curling over his forehead, and his clothes perfectly outline his slim body. He looks pleased to see you, his lips curving into a coy smile.

“You could’ve given me a warning,” he says as he outstretches his arms to you. You hug him, but not without a questioning glance on your face. He is warm and smells good, like juniper, which almost makes you forget about your question.

“Warned you about what?”

“How you’re even more beautiful in person.” He says this at your ear before pulling away, and it makes the back of your neck bloom with heat.

“Oh, you’re laying it on thick.” You giggle nervously, shifting on your feet.

“Are you ready to go?” he asks.

“Yes, let’s go!”

You leave the park to go to an aquarium nearby, which is the biggest one in the city. You find out quickly that Ten is easily fascinated by the wide range of creatures there. Despite living on Earth for a few years now, he hasn’t seen a lot of them until now.

You walk through the blue-lit hallways together, surrounded by water everywhere you turn. You observe the different animals up close and from far away, reading information about them from the signs beside their tanks.

“What the hell is that?” Ten says through laughter, looking at the squished-up mouth of a stingray as it floats in front of the glass, baring its pale underside to you both.

“It’s a stingray!”

He scrunches his nose up. “It’s ugly. But kinda cute, too…”

You both end up staying at the aquarium longer than you expected, with Ten wanting to see practically every animal they had on display; plus, you got to see some you weren’t familiar with before either.

After visiting the aquarium, you go downtown—which is otherwise known as food truck central, where you can get pretty much anything you’re craving. This area is always quite busy this time of evening, especially on the weekends. Food in hand, you and Ten end up walking through a few of the quieter back streets where there’s not as many people—streets where the closely-packed buildings give way to the grassy yards and paved roads of nearby neighborhoods.

“Should we talk about our families now, or is it too soon?” you say jokingly. “You know, that seems to be the only thing we haven’t mentioned after talking about everything else under the sun.” You’re not entirely sure why you bring this up while knowing your own relationship with your parents isn’t great, but you are curious to hear about Ten’s family.

“I don’t really know mine,” he replies.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You feel a little bad about it, thinking there was definitely a reason why he never mentioned the topic.

Ten looks confused for a moment before shaking his head. “No, it’s not like that. Sommu never form close bonds with their parents or siblings.”

You give him a curious look. “Why not?”

“Well, we aren’t born or raised the human way,” he explains. “Our parents have a bunch of us at once, raise us for the first couple of years, and then go off to reproduce again and continue the population.”

You’re startled at that. “Just for a few years? How do you survive?”

“We age faster...both physically and mentally. We become independent around 4 or 5 years old, and we can live without our parents.”

“That’s...definitely very different.” You try to wrap your mind around that information, though it’s difficult. Even with your not-so-healthy relationship with your parents, you couldn’t imagine having no family whatsoever at such a young age. You also can’t even begin to comprehend what it’d look like to be taking care of yourself at only 5 years old, fast aging or not. “But, you said a bunch at once...how is that possible?”

“We are formed inside things like eggs. It’s not like your form of childbirth. See?” And you become flustered when he lifts his shirt up to show his lack of a belly button, right there in the middle of the street.

“Uh, wow.”

“The human concepts of ‘family’ and ‘relationships’ are...very new to me.” He seems a little embarrassed to admit this. “That’s why I, um, joined a dating app, for more experience...I was told I need to learn to be more…” He searches for the word. “Im...pertinent?”

“...Empathetic?”

“Yeah, that.”

“So, did that come from a previous partner, or…?”

“Yeah, I’ve had two relationships since I’ve been here.” He seems wistful now, maybe a little sad. “They didn’t work out well. Maybe we were too different.” Before the mood can shift too far into negativity, Ten turns to you with a soft smile. “But maybe that’s not the kind of thing you want to hear while we’re on a date.”

You shake your head and smile. “I don’t mind, it’s interesting to know about.” More than interesting. You want to ask him a hundred more things about what his life was like when he first got to Earth. “Anyway, you can never have too many new starts in life. Let’s enjoy this one.”

At the end of your date, Ten walks with you back to your place. It’s almost midnight at this point, with you both walking all the way back from downtown. You’d drawn more than a few skeptical stares over the course of the day, but you both did your best to ignore those and just focus on each other.

“I’m really glad we got to go out today, it was fun,” you say, hugging your arms to yourself to shield against the cool spring breeze.

“I think I haven’t had that much fun in a while,” he agrees. Ten smiles wide then, the tip of his tongue sticking out from between his teeth, and you have to do a double take.

“What—”

“Oh, that. Sometimes I forget everyone doesn’t have this...” And when he sticks his tongue out, you see clearly now that it’s split halfway down the middle. Sort of like how a snake’s would be. “D’you like it?” His expression is wicked when he asks this, and a strange heat sweeps through your body.

“Wow.” You cringe at your lackluster answer, but that’s the only thing you can muster up at the moment, too busy internally questioning yourself. You’ve seen body modders with split tongues in documentaries and on the internet, but it’s never appealed to you like this before, and you don’t know what to do with that new realization.

“It’s okay, it takes some getting used to.” He gives you a smile that might be called innocent by anyone else, but to your eyes it’s quite obvious he’s proud about making you flustered.

“Getting used to...yeah, I’m sure.” There are about 15 different questions you want to ask him about that, too, but you aren’t going there on the first date.

“So...can I expect to see you again?”

“Of course.” You smile again at the hopeful note in his tone. “Just let me know whenever you want to go out again.”

Before Ten leaves, he places a hand on your shoulder and kisses you on the cheek. It’s a simple and short kiss, but it still makes you blush beneath your brown skin.

You wave goodbye to him from your doorstep as he goes, feeling like you’ve finally done something right for the first time in a long time.

You’d taken a chance with dating an extraterrestrial, someone so different from yourself and your species, and you figured it would be a new experience. Obviously. What you did not bet on, however, was the idea that you’d fall for Ten so fast.

After three months of dating exclusively, you feel like you could say you love him, which is frighteningly quick for you; though you don’t tell him this yet.

You’ve decided to bring him to meet your family. The idea frightens you, because your parents have never been very receptive to the aliens’ migration. But you are still holding out some hope that maybe they’ll realize all their assumptions were wrong, and that you’ve found a nice man who you love and who you’re sure loves you just as much. Whether he’s human or not shouldn’t matter.

You manage to set a date when all your schedules match up so you can bring Ten over to your parent’s house. Ten is nervous—more nervous than he was when you went on your first date—which you find a little surprising. You’ve gotten used to him being the one who you can lean on, who always seems to know the right answer.

“Do you think it will go well?” he asks, his tone implying he’s not confident of the answer.

“I hope so.” You give him a smile that you hope is reassuring and squeeze his hand.

When your parents open the door, there’s visible surprise on their faces. You’d already told them your boyfriend was not human, which drew doubtful responses when you first said it, but they’re acting as if they never knew that information—as if this is the first time they’re seeing an alien, period.

“Um…hi, mom, dad.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Ten says, though his own tone is overly formal, like he doesn’t know how he should speak. “I’m Ten.”

Your parents pause for a few moments longer. Finally, the awkward quiet is broken. “We thought you were just messing,” your dad says, though he steps out of the way to let you both come in, if a bit reluctantly.

“I—no.” You’re uncertain how to respond to that, though you don’t feel optimistic about what it entails. Your mother doesn’t say anything at all, just stares at you and Ten like you’re both strangers who’ve just waltzed in uninvited. She goes back in the kitchen to finish dinner once the door is closed, not saying anything to either one of you, and you already feel a cold pit settling in the bottom of your stomach.

Your dad sits in the living room with you and Ten, and another awkward silence ensues as your dad gives a stiff smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. He clasps his fingers together and pulls them apart repeatedly, like they’ll give him the answers for what’s going on.

“This is just a fling, right? Of course you won’t be staying with this ma—” Your dad almost says man but then stutters, thinking maybe the term isn’t appropriate since Ten isn’t human. He makes a vague gesture to fill in the space of the missing word.

“It’s not a fling,” you say, feeling like you’ve had cold water poured down your back. You’re sitting straight and still on the couch, and it’s not comfortable, but you’re too tense to move. Ten is almost equally stiff beside you.

“Y/N, we just want you to make good decisions for yourself.” That’s what your dad says out loud, though the look in his eyes finishes the rest of that sentence: And I don’t think this is a good decision.

“I am,” you insist. “I don’t need to be told that over and over again.”

“Me and Y/N are happy together,” Ten explains, and your dad seems a little shocked that he’s decided to speak.

“Do you truly think you’re what she needs?” your dad asks. You’re not sure what makes you more angry; the question itself, or the fact that he keeps his tone non-accusatory and light, as if he’s only asking something like where do you work? Like the answer doesn’t matter because he’s already made up his mind.

“As long as Y/N wants to keep seeing me, there’s no reason to stop our relationship.”

A sound of displeasure comes from your mother in the kitchen, and your skin prickles. Your dad nods to Ten’s answer, but he does so in a way that conveys he just wants this conversation to be over rather than consider anything that was said.

You deeply regret not leaving straight after that failed discussion, but you soon find out just how bad it can get once you all make it to the dinner table. Your mother is chillingly silent for the first half of the dinner, acting like neither you nor Ten exist, while your dad attempts to make awkward small talk about how things are going.

There comes a point where you can no longer handle the cold sweat and the nerves, and you put your utensils down. Not that you had much of an appetite anyway.

“Why won’t you even talk to me?”

Your mother glares. “You can’t guess? What kind of question is that to ask?”

You falter. You don’t know why she always does this to you. Ask ridiculous rhetorical questions that you both already know the answer to. Now you must sit here and explain why you asked like it isn’t already obvious.

“I’m visiting after I haven’t been here in a while. With my boyfriend. I thought...I don’t know. The least you could do—” Your mother shakes her head at the word “boyfriend,” and you already know everything else you said went in one ear and out the other.

“I still don’t know why you didn’t just stay with Christian?” she interrupts. “He had a decent job, came to see us often, and was NOT an alien.”

“But he cheated on me,” you say, a sickness rising in you.

“That’s what men do sometimes, Y/N. You deal with it and move on. You’re supposed to be strong—fix whatever is making him do it.”

You and Ten exchange a tense look, and there is clear confusion whirling in his eyes, but you don’t say anything to each other. “That relationship is over. I’m trying to do something for myself for once, not whatever you think I should do.” Even saying those words makes you internally recoil, unsure of what the reaction will be, but you don’t take them back.

“You may be an adult but we’re still your parents. Frankly, you need to be with a man of your own race and species—not this blue Martian here. How would you even have kids?”

Ten gives a humorless laugh, like he wants to respond but doesn’t want to make the situation worse or offend you. “You know what, I should just leave,” he says abruptly, rising from his seat.

You get up quickly after he does, but your mom slams her hand on the table. “Y/N, you better not walk out of here.”

You feel defeated and exhausted, like you always do when dealing with your parents and their objections to every single thing you do, but you decide not to give in this time. “Stop treating me like I’m still a child, ma.”

“What does being an adult matter when you still act childish? Don’t come back here crying when this doesn’t work out. I’ve already warned you more than enough.”

“That isn’t going to happen.”

“So now you think you know better than me, when you couldn’t even keep a man the first time around.”

“This is hopeless,” you sigh, feeling wounded and angry at all these cheap shots.

“Y/N, please just listen to your mother for once…” your dad interjects, but you try your best to ignore their protests as you grab your things and follow Ten to the door. You can still hear your mother’s angry complaints as you close the front door behind you, though you’re surprised—but grateful—that neither of them attempt to follow you outside.

The ride back home is uncomfortable and mostly quiet.

“I’m sorry, Ten,” you say, feeling like you’ve been frozen from the inside out despite it being nearly summer. You’re near tears when you speak. Ten shakes his head, keeping his eyes on the road ahead.

“It’s not your fault…” he replies weakly, though his words aren’t very persuasive to either of you.

He still walks you up to your door when you arrive back at your place, trailing slightly behind you. The night air is distractingly humid, wrapping around the both of you like a physical thing. Neither of you know what to say to each other.

When you get to your front door, you turn to look at him. “I shouldn’t have made you come. I should’ve known...”

“I wanted to come,” he points out. “You didn’t make me do anything.” Ten’s tone isn’t outright harsh, but the words are noticeably sharp. Maybe he realizes it, because his face softens as if he’s said something wrong.

You nod. It’s as if there’s a mountainous gap between you two that you just can’t cross right now. “I get it.” You say this almost mindlessly, because you’re not sure what you’re getting, exactly. Your hand rests on the doorknob. You don’t want to end the night on this awkward and painful note, but neither of you are making any progress with this lack of a real conversation. Maybe now isn’t the right time to try to talk about it.

“I think...I’ll just go home tonight.” You expected he’d say that, but the words still make your heart hurt, even if you don’t want them to. He looks like he might say something else, but he just gives you a small nod before starting off.

“Ten…” You don’t know what you want to ask of him or tell him, if anything, but his name slips from your lips like it’s something you can’t keep inside.

Ten stops for a moment and turns back to you. He steps closer again, leaning forward to give you a soft kiss on the lips. When he pulls back, his eyes hold you in place.

He mumbles, “I’m not mad at you,” before leaving.

More than anything, you want to know how Ten is doing, but you’re too ashamed to contact him for the first couple days after that mess of a night. Maybe he thinks you’re just like your parents and doesn’t want anything to do with you anymore. His reassurance at the door wasn’t enough to soothe your worries, and you end up tearing yourself up internally over it—repeatedly recalling the warmth of his lips and wondering if that’s maybe the last time you’ll ever feel it.

Similarly, nothing but radio silence comes from his end. He doesn’t respond even after you finally muster up the nerve to send him a text—a short text, but still a message all the same—and you fear he must really be done with you.

On Ten’s part, he does have one justification for it; he’s preoccupied with dealing with the avalanche of unpleasant memories and emotions that incident resurfaced. Everything about what your parents said and how they looked at him reminds him of his past and ongoing struggles with trying to assimilate on Earth.

Even though he’s often very sure of himself and what he wants, he begins wondering if he’s “enough” for you. Maybe you’ve just been humoring him this whole time, or you’ve decided your parents are right and you’d be better off with another human.

Those thoughts keep him up into the early morning hours, and he soon realizes he doesn’t want to let you go. In fact, he’s not sure what he’d do with himself if you decided to walk out of his life right now, and the idea of it makes him ill. Which makes him feel even more foolish for tuning you out.

Ten’s anxiety over losing you culminates in him standing on your doorstep again after almost a week of emptiness and not knowing how you were thinking or feeling—which has been killing him in its own way.

You’re not quite sure how to feel when you open the door and see him on the other side, but relief shoulders its way to the forefront.

“Y/N, I’m sorry—”

“Can you please—”

You both speak at the same time, your words breaking afterwards.

“You can talk first,” Ten says.

“Come in.” You let him in the door, and the words start spilling before you know how to stop them. “Ten, I-I’m...really sorry. I should’ve known better than to put you in that situation, but I thought…” Your words trail off. You don’t want to let him know just how desperate you still are for your parents’ approval sometimes. Even though it’s a fruitless case. “I just wanted it to go well. I want things to work now, for us. I really, really want things to work for us.”

Ten surprises himself with how quickly he moves to take you in his arms before the last words have even finished settling in his mind. He hugs you tightly. “I thought maybe you wouldn’t want me anymore,” he whispers, like he’s telling you something forbidden.

“That couldn’t happen.” You’re saddened he’d come to that conclusion. “But...it’s not fair for you to leave me in the dark, either. I want to help you...so would you please let me?”

Ten squeezes you a bit tighter, as if you might disappear from his arms. “I’m sorry I ghosted you...it brought back bad memories of how things were when I first got here. When people were more open about treating me like some kind of enemy. I didn’t know how to deal with it.” You tuck your chin into his shoulder and listen to his breathing, his heartbeat, the sound of his words. “Y/N, I’m not sure if I’m very good at love, or if I even know enough about it. Maybe the others were right and I’m kidding myself with something I’ll never properly learn. But, I…” His voice cracks. “I-I think I love you. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Entirely overwhelmed, you answer his admission with a long kiss, cupping his face in your hands. His response to your kiss is automatic, the knots of tension unraveling in your embrace.

“I love you, Ten,” you whisper against his lips after you separate. Here and now, it doesn’t feel too soon at all; there couldn’t be a better time to say it. His expression is a lot of things at once. Relief, happiness, contentment...he’s blushing, but it shows up as a darker blue on his already blue skin. When he smiles, it turns his whole face into a picture of joy.

“I want to go away.” Quietly, you tell him this as you rest your head in his lap.

You’re both lying on your couch, the room dim and the sound of rain occupying the silence. A downpour started coming down soon after Ten got to your place. You’ve sat there just like that and listened to the rain on the windows for the past couple hours, not wanting to do anything else or separate from each other. You knew he wouldn’t want to go home, and you didn’t even have to ask him to stay.

Ten’s been petting your hair the whole time. The motion of his fingers in your kinky strands makes you sleepy, but now the movements pause at your words.

“Go where?” he asks.

“Away from all this. My parents hate me, and they won’t let me have any peace as long as I’m with you. I just want to go away for a while.” Despite you overflowing with love after finally getting your feelings out in the open, the thought of your parents’ disapproval has lingered steadily in the recesses of your mind. You close your eyes against the tears that begin to well up. Ten’s quiet for a few more moments, and then begins stroking your head again.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

A few tears fall despite you trying to keep them in, and your eyelids flutter when you feel Ten’s fingers on your face, wiping them away. “Then we’ll go away.”

Ten’s homeland is a planet where the sun—or rather, a star called Proxima Centauri that’s much like the sun—is always out, no matter what time of day it is. There are days where it rains or gets cloudy, but night never falls and the star never dips any lower in the sky, always staying pinned in that same spot like a tack on a corkboard. That everlasting light throws your body clock off, and combined with this weird new form of jet lag associated with space travel, you are a mess for the first week or so after your arrival.

Ten makes a few jokes about fragile human bodies, but for the most part he tends to you as best as he knows how and tells you stories about how he grew up to get your mind off the discomfort. He feeds you these neon green drinks that don’t look like anything on Earth you’ve had before, and although they do make you feel better, you begin to think maybe you should’ve had a wellness plan before running off-planet.

You aren’t the only human who’s ever visited or even lived there, though, which gives you reassurance about adjusting to everything. By now, there’s a small population of human beings living here due to the interplanetary exchange initiated by Earth.

Before you left, Ten told you he had a small home in his homeland. You didn’t quite expect to hear this, since he’d been on Earth for a while now and had no family to return to. Though he’d migrated, he still expected to come back to his planet every so often, if only to visit. Now was as good a time as any.

Although many differences exist, the scenery is much like Earth’s; there are ecosystems with plants and animals and other living beings—like the Sommu themselves. Ten’s homeland is not filled with wall-to-wall technology like you’d expect an alien city to be, based on the small examples you’ve seen on Earth. You might compare it to the tropics back on Earth, with the Sommu yielding to nature’s rightful place in their ecosystem instead of clearing out whole forests or continually mining for resources. Ten is amused by your struggle to comprehend the newness and unfamiliarity of it all.

When you feel good enough to explore, he starts taking you to the beach often. It looks mostly like any other beach, but there are large coral forms that grow out of the ocean, reaching up towards the impossibly blue and constantly illuminated sky. Because there is no moon to guide the tides, the water is eerily still, the surface mirror-like—like a huge lake or pond that extends in almost every direction for miles. You’d almost believe it was a mirror if you hadn’t seen a bird-like creature skimming across the surface as it flew by, creating fleeting ripples.

You swim around a little in the still waters after Ten convinces you that you aren’t going to turn into a fish or something equally scary. He has to hold both your hands the entire time to get you to step in, and he doesn’t let go until you’re confident enough to explore the water on your own.

“Just focus on me, okay?” His smile is bright and shining against his blue skin, and he looks you directly in the eyes as he backs into the water, breaking the surreal stillness of it with his movements. “It’s just like the water on Earth.”

“Okay, okay,” you say uncertainly, gripping his hands and stepping in tentatively. The water does feel like any other water you’ve touched throughout your life, which helps you calm down slightly. His hands stay tight around yours as you get waist-deep into the water.

When you’re finally able to let go of him, he claps his hands more enthusiastically than the situation probably calls for. “Yay, you’re a big girl now!”

You roll your eyes at him. “You’re not funny, Ten.”

On a bright afternoon, Ten lets you into a room of his house you haven’t entered before. You’ve passed by this shining white door several times, but it’s always remained firmly shut until now.

“What’s in here?” you ask as you hold his hand.

“That’s what I’m going to show you.” He laughs and pushes the door open.

You think it’s a darkroom at first, seeing nothing but dim light and the shiny surfaces of what looks like photographs as your eyes adjust. But when he touches his hand to a panel on the wall and the lights come on, you realize it’s not a darkroom. More like a small gallery for all his pictures.

The “pictures” are physical, but they aren’t like the old Polaroids or film photos that have begun fading out of existence on Earth. They’re small crystalline squares that play eternally-moving videos on their glossy surfaces—a bit different from the translucent holograms Earth adopted. You step further into the room to look at them. It’d probably take days to explore them all, there are so many. Different scenes play out as soundless movies, and when you look for long enough, you realize they’re split into different categories. Numerous events within a life.

Many are of the beach, other scenic places around his homeland, oddly-shaped buildings, and plants in colors that there are no names on Earth for. You step closer to one of the walls to look at the collection of images more closely. You actually do “recognize” a select few, linking them together with old memories Ten had shared with you only weeks ago. There’s so much happening in these small snippets of time, so many stories you haven’t yet heard, that you feel like you could look at them forever and not get enough.

“This is...something else.” Your words seem inadequate, but you don’t quite know how to express your sheer wonder.

“I could take some of you,” Ten suggests, from somewhere behind you. “I want to.”

You glance back at him. “Hm, yeah.”

“I’m serious.” Ten comes up behind you to clasp his arms around your waist. He tucks his chin into your shoulder. His lips are close at your neck, and you let them linger there. One of your hands goes to his own hand that’s over your waist, and you run your fingertips over his knuckles as you gaze at the photo wall before you. “I think you’d be the perfect muse.”

“You could do that.” You’re still entranced with it all, and you already know you’ve made up your mind to let him take as many photos of you as he wants.

The next time you go to the beach, Ten takes some photos of you standing near the huge coral forms—or at least as close as you are willing to get—and he laughs at your lingering hesitation.

Still, the crystalline photos he takes of you are the embodiment of perfection. When you look over them later, watching yourself twirl around and strike silly poses in the water, you can almost hear the sound of your laughter twining together and feel the warmth of a star that’s not the sun on your skin.

“What if we stayed here?”

You ask Ten this while you’re lying in his bed, watching a kaleidoscope of shapes on the ceiling. The bedroom window is open to allow the breeze to come in. The ceiling of the bedroom—and every other room in the house—is more like an ever-changing reflection of shapes and colors than an actual ceiling. You might compare it to a mirror, like the surface of the ocean, but you think it’s much more complex than that. Sometimes you can see the distorted outline of yourself in it, like a funhouse mirror. Other times, you see the sky above.

Ten lies beside you with one hand behind his head and the other resting on his stomach, and he turns his head to look at you.

“Stayed?”

“If we just decided not to...go back to Earth.”

He pauses for a few moments. “Is that a good idea? You have a whole life there...and your friends…” Ten doesn’t mention your family, which you are grateful for.

You sigh. Nothing like a quick injection of reality after letting your imagination get ahead of you. “We’d have to go back. I’d have to tell them goodbye. And sort some other things out. Maybe it wouldn’t happen right now. But, after I do everything I need to do on Earth...maybe I could migrate here.”

“That’s a big decision to make...and it should be yours to decide.” Ten pauses again, like he’s weighing his words. “You know I don’t have many connections on Earth…” In other words, leaving Earth and returning home for good might not be as big of a deal for him as it would be for you.

You sit up and look out the window, seeing how the warm wind stirs the trees outside. “I want to.” You say it almost inaudibly, your words nearly carried off by the breeze. You turn back to him only to find him already there, sitting across from you and looking at you closely. Your faces are only inches from each other’s as he searches your eyes. “What do you want to do?”

“I’ll do anything you want to.” Ten’s voice is earnest, like he’d follow you to Hell and back if you asked, and you believe him.

Resting your hand on his cheek, you kiss him.

This kiss is a little different from the ones you’ve shared before—more yearning. More desperate. You kiss like there won’t be enough time to do all the things you want to do with each other—to each other. His split tongue bumps against yours, caresses it, and it causes a shiver to go down your spine, like it always does.

You end up lying back on the bed again with Ten’s body crowding yours in, legs tangling together and hips pressing against one another’s. Neither of you have made a move to take the other’s clothes off yet, but then he separates from your lips for a long moment and studies your features, from your eyebrows down to your mouth.

“Touch yourself for me.”

Your mouth drops open slightly.

“I want to see it.” He takes one of your hands and guides it up under your skirt and between your legs, pressing your fingers against your sex through your underwear, and you look at him with wide eyes, taking a deep breath. He lets go of your hand, and you keep yours right where it is. You’re slightly nervous about his black gaze trained on you, unrelenting and prying, but you begin to move your hand anyway.

Over your underwear, you press your finger between your lower lips, sliding between them and over your clit, and a little tremor goes through your body. You find yourself getting wet more quickly than you normally would with Ten watching you as you tease your entrance. You breathe a little heavier but make no sound yet. One of Ten’s hands reaches out for your ankle, though he doesn’t do anything other than keep his fingers there, a light touch that keeps passing back and forth over your ankle bone.

You circle your fingers across your clit more insistently, your legs tensing as the pleasure mounts higher. Ten’s lips part as he watches you, a heavy breath escaping from his chest. The hand on your ankle slides higher up your leg, just below your thigh, like he wants to slide his fingers into the mix and take over, but he doesn’t make a move to do so just yet.

Finally, Ten reaches under your skirt to pull your sticky panties off, sliding them slowly down your legs and leaving them somewhere on the floor. You want him to touch you again, the brush of his hands against your hips not enough, but he doesn’t grant your desire. “Keep going,” he says, leaning back on his hands, and you can see he’s growing hard.

You bring your hand back to its original place between your thighs, sliding through the wetness more easily and shuddering when your fingertips graze over your clit. You slide a finger into yourself then. A small moan slips out, and you close your eyes, but Ten’s fingers pinch your chin—not enough to hurt, but the sudden touch makes you look at him. “Keep your eyes open.” His thumb presses into your lower lip, and he stares at your mouth for a moment like he’s imagining sliding something hard and hot between your lips.

Ten kisses you on the lips again, and this time he trails the kisses down your body until he’s gripping your thighs on either side of his face. You pause in your movements when he reaches the junction of your thighs, and you watch as he grabs your hand and slips your finger out of yourself. He sucks the slick digit into his mouth, and you cannot tear your eyes away from him.

He lets your hand go and pulls you a few inches closer to his face, dragging you across the bed, and you can barely get your bearings back to sit up again when he slips his tongue through your lower lips. You moan, and he responds to that by repeating it again, catching your clit between the split in his tongue, and wiggling both sides.

“Oh Jesus...oh fuck.” Your hands go to Ten’s hair, pulling on it as you push your hips closer to his mouth, your back curving up. He is alluring tucked between your thighs like this, teasing and sucking your clit with his split tongue and prodding his fingers at your hole until he chooses to slide two of them inside.

His free hand keeps you close against his face as he eats you out, that wondrous tongue sliding against the most sensitive part of your body and making you gasp with boundless pleasure. Little droplets of moisture bead at the corners of your eyes from how good it feels, your stomach tensing and releasing as you try your best to keep still.

He has to keep his grip on your body tight when you come, as you try to squirm away from his tongue because of how stimulated you are. He only lets you go after he’s satisfied himself with licking up all the wet that’s spilled from you.

Then he strips your skirt off for you, because he knows you’re not quite in a state to do it for yourself right now. He peels the rest of your clothes off similarly, which doesn’t take much time or effort to do; you’ve dressed lightly for the weather.

Ten looks at you lying beneath him on the bed, his gaze stuck somewhere between awe and lust.

He slips out of his own clothes with a certain practiced ease. Yes, he’s really blue everywhere. He looks mostly human-like everywhere, too, except for the lack of a belly button.

Ten kisses you deeply as he slips into you, and you clutch at his sides. He tries to keep his pace slow at first, maybe for your sake or to just savor how it feels, but he gives into the feeling of you squeezing around him and starts thrusting into you faster. There is already sweat sliding down to his jaw, though you think it might be because of the heat, too.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” comes out of you in a voice you hardly recognize as your own.

His pelvis sliding against your clit from the proximity of your bodies makes you curl your fingers into the strands of his hair, wanting to touch every part of him you can. His lips go to the sweat-slicked skin of your shoulder, leaving little wet kisses behind as he wraps an arm around your waist and simply fucks into you, his shaft dragging against your walls.

He eventually separates himself from your neck, though it comes with some effort, to gaze at your face again. However, he finds that your eyes have drifted shut.

“Do you wanna come?” Ten asks, softly, gently, like you might break apart if he speaks too loud.

You’re a little winded from how he’s thrusting into you and can’t yet see the motive behind this question—because of course you do—but you answer with a shaky “I-I want to.”

“Then don’t look away from me.” His voice becomes harsher on these words.

“I…” Your lips move without any real words behind them as he thrusts into you harder, sinking all the way into you before pulling out to the tip. You want do what he’s just told you, but you find it difficult with the way he’s intent on burying himself into you, his eyes piercing into your own. “Mmm, I-I…”

You don’t know if you can, but the way he’s kindling your rising heat with each thrust makes you want to try very, very hard. Ten keep his hands on the sides of your face so you cannot look anywhere but at him.

The pleasure bears down on you more with each second, and you try to keep your breathing steady as another climax approaches.

“You’re almost there, come on baby,” he coaxes you, sloppily kissing the corner of your mouth before slipping his tongue in again. The way you gasp against his lips and tighten around him signals him to your orgasm, and he sits back to watch it play across your face, smirking at how you moan his name desperately.

Ten’s continued thrusts make you shiver from the flood of sensations overcoming your body, and you whimper at his movements until he pulls out and comes on your abdomen.

Ten gives you time to recover after you come down from your second orgasm, though he makes sure to lay a few more enamored kisses on your weakened body. He gets off the bed and exits the room after that. You don’t bother to ask where he’s going, because you know he’ll be back anyway.

When Ten comes back, he has his camera with him. The teasing tilt of his lips never leaves his face as he points it towards you. He takes a photo of you lying on his bed nude, with the breeze coming in and rustling the tree leaves and your hair, your skin shining bronze under the light of the eternal star. Then he comes closer, making the bed sink under his weight, and nudges your legs apart. He takes more photos of your lower stomach glistening with sweat and his cum—and photos of him sliding his slender fingers between your thighs and bringing you careening into another bout of euphoria.

The camera is soon forgotten after you come again. Ten climbs fully back onto the bed now and pulls you into his lap. His dick is hard again, and the length of it nudges against your lower lips, making you whimper from how sensitive you still are. He shushes you with a kiss and lifts your hips so he can slide into you, his shaft nudging that soft spot inside you and making you grip onto his arms.

You’re too mushy and dazed to do anything but let him push his hips up into you while you cling to him, your head lolling back. Ten’s mouth goes to the open expanse of your neck, and he wets your skin with his tongue.

The kaleidoscope of shapes above you on the ceiling morphs into one glistening reflection, throwing the blurred shapes of your bodies back to you. It’s like looking through a dense fog. You’re a little caught off guard by it, and you stare up at your nude forms. Ten looks up as well to see the cloudy figure of you cradled in his lap, and he only grins and thrusts up into you harder and smacks your ass in reply.

He grinds into you while he has you sitting full on his dick, and you think he must have set off your internal “reset” button somewhere between landing slaps on your ass and repeatedly hitting your g-spot. Your mind is blissfully, amazingly blank. The only clear thing you can distinguish is how he feels in and around you.

When you come this time, it comes with a gush of wetness that makes Ten whisper several smug praises into your ear for being such a good girl and making a mess on him.

As you quickly find out, Ten’s refractory period seems to be nonexistent, while his stamina is overflowing.

Ten knows how to mix the pain with pleasure in a way that enhances both feelings, and you don’t know if you’ve ever experienced anything more perfect. One moment, he’ll say something romantic and fairytale-like to you before shoving your head into the pillow and taking you from behind in the next moment, pulling one of your arms behind you for leverage as he thrusts into you hard. You want him to do whatever he desires to you, and so you let him hammer into you until you think your hips and ass will be bruised by the next morning.

You’ve never knew that sex could be so carnal and so loving at the same time, but this is all of those things, and it makes you feel so full that you could split at the seams. You scream, cry, and moan more times than you can count, so enveloped by pleasure that it seems like the atoms of your body will simply dissolve from the intensity.

When you both finally become too exhausted to continue, it’s still daytime. Of course. But Ten draws the blackout shade forward and seals all the light out, and so you know it must be time to sleep. Time blends together here. Even if it’s not yet the midnight hour, it will be as long as you deem it so.

“Come here,” he says, and rolls you over on the bed so you don’t have to sleep in the wet spot. You grin in sleepy amusement against his neck as he hugs you to his body. “Let’s stay right here.”

You know he’s talking about sleeping for the next few hours, but you can also imagine he’s referring to your new life—one you’ll create together.

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starshipsofstarlord · 3 years

Text

God is With You, Even as You’re Sinning

Pairing | Sam Winchester x reader

Summary | it was your first time not killing a monster, and in its place, taking the life of one of your own. Guilt entraps you, and it is up to Sam to break you out of your pitiful hypnosis.

Warnings | mentions of death, blood, angst, guilt, some smut, oral sex (fem receiving), penetrative unprotected sex, fingering, swearing, mentions of murder

Requested ✖️

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

Fuck God. This was all his fault, everything was to be fair. He had left the world to continue on its own accord, the apocalypse threatening to spill over the planet and destroy it and all beauty that was lingering through the existence of humans.

They killed each other, and the creator of all could care less. It was his smallest problem, he didn’t mind that the murderer was succumbed to guilt, or how many restless nights that he or she endured. God was cruel, even if he held up a facade of being your ally, and trying his hardest as he supposed, to be your friend.

Your hands shook as you remembered the entailment of your mistake. It was a slip up, a vast and surreal experience that people usually learned from. But what were you supposed to do, not kill a human again? Yeah you had gotten that, after all, the initial deed had not at all been intentional.

There was the victim’s blood dried upon the outer layer of your skin, casting you in the perfect image of murderous intent. However, you had no thirst to kill, instead, your hunting of monsters, alike to many others partaking in a similar lifestyle, executed the mythical beasts to protect the human population.

It pained you truly, to know that you had killed a person. You hadn’t even spared the familiar body a second glance, and out of panic, you fled the scene, leaving the body of the city cleaner in the gutter, laying in the remnants of his friends’ and family’s waste, burying him in their crude excrement.

The thought alone, and the sight that was engrained in the peripheral of your mind had you feeling sick. Slowly, you plodded down the steps of the bunker’s entrance, surely leaving footprints trademarked in all kinds of grotesque evidence.

Without much care for what lay heavily inside, you dropped your duffel from your shoulder, allowing it to fall on the ground with a disgruntled clatter. Nothing meant anything anymore, not if you were indeed a real killer. Whilst some monsters had weaselled their way into society, ending their pathetic attempts at normality was different than taking away the life of an innocent and mortal bystander.

Often, with the darker and crueler species, there were reasons as to why they pretended to be of human birth. Mostly, it was so that they could feed from the naive flock, or kill for their own amusement. Either way, none of their reasons were good.

But now, you thought of yourself as no different than them. A creature that needed to be put down for their crimes. Filing, you breathed in, only inhaling the various moulds of putridity that was weaved into your hair, and stuck to your skin like a face mask.

“Should I call you Cassie now?” At the joke, a laugh from the speaker was triggered. He was quite amused with the sight of you, and thus, you sneered at the tall man, hating him a little bit more than usual.

“Your pop culture references aren’t appreciated Winchester, it’s more Dean’s street.” Shoving past him, his high shoulder floundered back at the harsh and ignorant impact, an expression of offence covering his stupid face. Like a fawn, he tumbled after you, watching as you walked sullenly into the kitchen, yanking the door to the fridge open, and extracting one of his brother’s store bought beers.

“I’m going to guess the hunt went bad.” Sam speculated, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets, and staring expectedly down at where you popped the cap off the bottle recklessly with your teeth. He almost winced at the sight, but he wished to keep this arrogant demeanour up with you, it was a natural desire to piss you off, and he’d be pissed at himself if he let it slip out of simple pity.

“Guess correct. Well done, you’ve won a trip to Hawaii.” You waved your free hand mockingly in the air, as the other raised the liquor to your mouth, allowing you to wilfully gulp the bitter liquid down. At his presence that remained nursing over you, you cocked a brow, leaning forwards as you expectedly looked back at the moose. “Just leave me alone Sam, I’m not in the mood for putting up with your bullshit.”

He, however, seemed not to be phased by you wanting to be left alone, and instead, quickly snatched the poison out of your hand, leaving you throughly prepared to keep him right in the balls. “What the fuck?” You all but screamed at the not so jolly giant. In turn, he crossed his arms across his chest, placing the bottle down on the island.

“I could ask you the same y/n.” His tone was dominantly serious, causing you to cower back into your shroud of guilty conscience. “Tell me what happened on that hunt, of which i told you that you shouldn’t have went on alone, since you wouldn’t have been able to handle it solo.”

You felt demeaned by his words, they sparked an anger out from the firm pit of your stomach. But you knew deep down, he was getting through to you, which was something that you had not managed to even do by yourself. Air heavily passed through and out of your nostrils, as acidic tears pooled in your eyes; a crack was falling down your walls, and out of all people, it was Sam Winchester whom had caused it.

“You’re right, I shouldn’t have gone alone, but you know what, I thought of what a Winchester would do. And then I remembered, I am sure as hell not a Winchester and I don’t have a brother anymore! Not now, he didn’t even know who I was earlier, didn’t even recognise a single genetically identical hair on my head as he watched me parade through the town, the very one that I ran away from when he was a baby and I was seven, wanting to hunt a monster. Yet, i didn’t kill a damn monster Sam, I murdered my brother because you’ve been right all along, I’m not fit for this job. I am a mess, so congratulations, you finally have got me to admit the one thing that you keep reminding me of.”

“Y/n...” Sam wasn’t sure how to respond, he felt the waves of shock ripple through his body. Never so freely had you been vulnerable around him, and here you were now, with very visible tears cascading down your utterly torn face. He understood it was an accident, and the times that he and Dean had tried to kill each other under supernatural circumstances had him wondering what if.

Shaking your grime tethered head at the sound of his cracked voice, you stormed past him, and immediately raced towards the shower room, finding to your luck, which had been non existent during the rest of the day, the halls were barren of life. Walking through the door, you tore your ruined clothes off, chucking them upon the floor without much acknowledgement, before you went under the warm spray of the shower head, trying to calm yourself.

To rid your skin of its evidential accessories, you had to scrub your skin until it was immediately raw. Everything within you ached, as you flicked back to the memory of the clueless expression that had been worn by your blood brother. It was probably a good thing that he didn’t know who you were, or else, he’d have known that his own sister murdered him due to her incompetence to listen to others.

Now, you were not even sure what were your tears, and what droplets of water belonged to the shower itself. For over an hour, you basked int eh warmth that seemed unable to cure your cold blooded system, turning the spritz off, and covering your body in a fluffy towel, that you were sure belonged to someone else, but right now, you could care less about who owned what.

As you reached the door to your bedroom, you found it to be preached slightly open, and as you pushed it the rest of the way, you saw Sam sat on the corner of your bed. You held your arms around yourself, insecure on the fact that beneath the stolen towel, you were nothing more than you. A wolf in sheep’s skin.

“Can I help you?” You bitterly asked, your eyes still burning from your own faulted loss. Sam breathed in, his eyes trailing up to your face, that was naked from any gruesome cosmetics or make up. The bareness to your completion illustrated an aura of innocence, and evidence that you were the same as him - human.

“That’s my towel.” The male hunter laughed, in hopes of changing the previous and well wounded subjected to ensure that you felt better. But what was he kidding, nothing could fill the void that you had dug in your own heart, nothing was closer than the bond between siblings, even if you were considered as strangers.

“Take it back then.” Too exhausted from your gruelling day, you dropped the material, your confident action making his eyes go wide, as he tried to look away from your exposed skin to respect your boundaries. It was impossible though not to allow his hazel hues to slip up the trunks of your thighs, up to- no, that was wrong, very wrong.

You had just lost your brother, not to mention, by your own hand, and he was prone to checking out your freelancing body, taking in every curve and twisted scar that was prominent to his speculating eyes. His eyes dropped to the discarded towel, which he had purposely left on the heating rail for later use, and then, they switched back towards you.

He stood, walking behind you as you looked through comfort clothes within your dresser. A light touch of his hand brushed your hair away from your neck, as he breathed a sweet hoax of hot air upon your scare. Sam was relieved that you didn’t reject the contact, and instead, pressed his lips upon the flesh, finding succession whence you hummed deliriously to yourself.

This interaction had been inevitable for a long time, but now no longer were the suspected intentions for such an exchange to be to release well endorsed frustrations. No, he was going to clear your mind for some sensual moments, and make your pretty little head forget for a moment that you had pained yourself in the worst of ways.

Turning, you laced your hands through his chocolate locks, massaging his scalp as you pulled him closer so that your lips could endure a rougher clasp against his. There was no passion, behind each contribution there was a spur of hunger, he grasped your ass cheeks, pulling you up to be sat upon the top of your heavy dresser.

Obliging his command, you spread your legs so that he could stand between their partition, his hands now running up the windows of your thighs. For a while, the pair of you did nothing more than make out, and cup a feel here and there, but soon after, Sam dropped to his lanky knees, leaving kisses in the wake of his descent.

His thumb and forefinger spread your fluttering folds, watching as your slit squirmed for attention. Sam licked his lips at the sight, running his middle finger up the expanse, until he came to your yearning entrance. Slowly, after making sure you were wet enough, Sam slipped his digit inside, you wiggling your hips to adjust to the thrust of his one finger.

To add to the sensations that were overriding your body, he moved his mouth to closer proximity, smelling the divine aroma that pulsed out of you. It was far too addictive to not get a taste, and thus,he pulled his finger out, sucking off your juices contently.

But that small sample just wasn’t enough, which encouraged him to dive face first into your pussy - literally. His long tongue teased your folds, slurping at the lips, and then switching to your clit to heighten the stimulation. He kept up a rhythm, using it as a pattern to push you closer to that edge, and he was surely certain that you were enjoying his oral work as you ground your face against him, moaning at his succulent administrations.

“Sam.” Oh god, was it pleasant to hear his own name fall out your mouth in such an erotic manner. It was far different from the way that you usually used it to snide at him, though, the thought of your regular treatment of him aided only to spur his lustful actions on. He wanted you to cum, for your juices to run down his face in waterfalls, looking as though someone had tried to drown him.

His work would not be complete until you found it difficult to even pronounce his short name. Digging his tongue in the hood of your clit, tracing around the protective area, his fingers returned to their earlier placement, and he quickened their pace until he could hear a satisfying squelch in the air.

Rapid sounds of parted moans raked from your mouth, your chest sticking out as you breasts heaved with your heavy breathing. It was noticeable that you were close, not just from that, but you were squeezing the circulation out of his fingers. “Fuck.” Left you in the form of a squeal, as you pussy wept its juices.

Sam was quick to lap everything that left you up, once more, tasting those that clung to his fingers. He went back in for another taste, but you tightly grouped his hair, pulling him away from your sopping cunt. “Need you to fuck me Sam, now.”

In an instant, the hunter stood, working precariously on undoing the buckle of his belt, and pushing all material that covered his lower half to the bottom of his thighs. He read already hard, and oozing precum. You swept your finger across the tip of his dick, bringing it to your lips to taste his foreshadowing seed.

Sam huffed at the sight,picking his prick up in one hand, and jerking himself a couple of times. And then, he aligned himself with you, rubbing his cock around your wet crevice a couple of times, slapping his tip teasingly against your puffy clit.

“Want my cock baby?” He asked, smirking as he watched you nod your head repeatedly. With that being all the confirmation that he needed, he pushed into you,feeling even more turned on as he heard you mewl, and watched the ecstatic expression cross your face as his dick fit inside of you all the way.

He grasped your hips, pulling out once before pushing in again. He repeated the action, his own eyes rolling to the back of his head at how tight you were. This would make you forget the cruel method of god, his story was not as epic as he though, for his characters were screwing against his will, basking in a distraction rather than the regretful pain that seethed in your trodden heart.

Another thrust had your nails clasping onto Sam’s covered back, biting onto his shoulder through the plaid, as you held back the tears that were trying to creep out of your blissful eyes. A few grunts left Sam, as his pace increased, and with every thrust, which only served to fuel him further, the dresser smashed into the wall behind it, most likely leaving a decent dent within the historical architecture.

“Gonna cum.” You told him, dragging him in for another tongue filled kiss as your cunt pooled around him, coating his cock in the honey from your delicious pot. He soon followed after, and for a moment, he remained against you, allowing you to bask in the comfort of his strange presence.

And then he pulled out, watching as his distraction dripped from your entrance, trailing down your thigh in a white streak. An orgasm smile was pulled onto your face, but it was certain to not last long for when you returned to the reality that laid waiting for you to return.

Sam stepped closer again, moving his fingers towards your cunt, and pushed his seed back inside of you, watching as your puffy pussy lips swallows any part of him that it could get. He would distract you for as long as he could, and then, deal with the inevitable.

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wisteria-lodge · 3 years

Text

un-exploding lion primary + snake secondary

I reckon my primary is Lion, maybe? My values often boiled down to “if I care about it, I care, if not then … **** it.”

Probably an internal primary. Lion is certainly possible.

I’m normally very ambitious. It’s almost impossible imagining my life without this cause. At some point in my life, I’ve become my cause. I embodied it completely I couldn’t see anything outside of it. All my relationships, all my decisions were in service of the cause. However, lately I learn that it doesn’t do to hide myself behind to cause just to avoid my insecurities.

Ooooh, someone seems a little Exploded. Is it possible that you’re healing from an Exploded Lion primary? (and if so, the note about insecurities is some good insight on what it feels like to be inside an Exploded Lion primary.)

I realize that I can just risk getting myself exposed and it’s ok that not everything in my life relates to my cause. I mean … my cause will always be the most important things in my life. But having fun and cherishing relationships are important too, because in the end, when I’ve done all that I want to do. I wouldn’t be alone surrounded by charred bridges and enemies on all sides.

Yeah… that can be the problem with being an Exploded Lion primary. (I’m really thinking Lion for you. Snakes explode and burn a little differently.)

I’m not content working under anyone. I want to dictate my fate and my cause. I want power but not to satisfy my ego. I want it so I can dictate my cause and see it happen. I loathe those who yearn for power just for the power’s sake. Power must be earned and it must be used justly to make a positive change in this world rather than to satisfy one’s ego.

This cause is not really learned though. I’ve never second thought it. I only know I have to do it and it is right for me. It just makes sense on its own and it would be betrayal of self not to do it. There is not much to be said here, because this cause has been rather stable for as long as I remember.

Oh you’ve got a Loud lion primary.

It might vary in intensity (from ‘all that matters’ to ‘vital, but not the only thing that exist’) but it never changed.

You might be a Double Lion (a Revolutionary.) This bit about changing intensities is starting to sound kinda Lion secondary.

Ideally, what I want to build is a fishing company that will empower indigenous communities. I will use the resources harnessed from it to better the environment, support ethnic issues, cultural preservation, community growth and environment conservation. If I could manage to go that far, the dream would be to give full, unconditional scholarships to anyone with the heart and desire to do some good to society. I don’t want anyone to struggle like I do. I don’t want to see any more people ripped from their home, their culture. I don’t want to see any forest or sea crying in pain anymore. That is my ambition. That is my cause.

The fire you’ve got! Yeah, you’re intense. You’re really intense. I’m doubling down on Double Lion. Sure, your cause might be focused around people and communities, but it’s coming from a Lion place. The Righteous Cause.

(and also this tendency to just… not really care if you burn bridges. Very Lion, not so much Badger.)

There is a ruthless side to my morals, because I have no qualms about crushing those who might get in my way. I will offer peace and negotiate first but if they refuse, I will delete them.

Like, I know English isn’t your first language, so that’s probably influencing your word choice here - but I have to say. I am kind of loving the ice-cold rawness of I will delete them.

I don’t care much if people will love or hate me. I don’t do it to be loved. I only do it because I believe it is right. But as I mentioned, cause comes first, but relationships will be cherished too.

Really loud Lion primary… but keep an eye on that Explosion risk. Make sure you’ve got people who sometimes tell you you’re wrong. Don’t go all supervillain on me. :)

For secondary. I’m not sure… maybe not Badger? Nah, it’s hard. I’ve never really analyzed my actions.

lol lion

I’m comfortable with both planning and improvising. I think it’s impossible to stick to either improvising or planning. A plan without improvisation will be rigid and stale, but an improvisation without purpose or plan will just be another waste of energy. So, I use both at equal amount all the time.

Hmm. I’m hearing models, but that’s also generic enough to apply to almost anybody.

I’m inclined to trust my instinct more than apparent fact though.

… because you’re like, a REALLY LOUD Lion primary.

Even if the fact of the situation might point out ‘NOPE!’ if I feel it’s alright, I’ll still go for it. My hunch saves my skin for so many times I usually just trust it.

You just live in your primary all the time, huh?

I can relate to bird because I’m avid reader and I love gathering random knowledge just for the fun of it. Excuses be damned, if I want to learn, I learn. If anything, I don’t like learning because I need to. I want to learn when and what I want to do.

Again, could apply to any secondary (filtered though that lens of LION PRIMARY of course.)

I usually plan out the objectives, what I need, why I need and how I will make it happen, then execute it by improvising, but it’s still in service of the preplanned objectives. But if the plan doesn’t work anymore, I will just ditch it and go with whatever in front of me. Sticking perfectly within the plan will usually hamper my effort. But not having plan at all will make me aimless too.

This is very interesting, because I think we’re working with different definitions of “plan.” When you say plan, you seem to mean “goal” or “endgame” ie “What I want” (which of course goes right back to all the Lion primary business.) Like, you gave me a really coherent rundown of your objectives. You want to start a company doing a specific thing, eventually progress to giving out scholarships, etc.

But to my mind, that’s motive, and it’s different from the “planning” a Bird secondary likes to do. Bird secondaries like hoarding tools. They like steps. But you “execute by improvising.” “Go with whatever is in front of me.” You’re a very driven, very focused Improvisational secondary.

When I deal with people, the more I think, the worse I become.

… improvisational secondary

Yesterday, I had a big fight with my family. I exploded out, like really loud. But that was all a ruse.

Wait just one second. Are you a SNAKE secondary? Who likes to present as (or possibly even model) Lion secondary, Captain Kirk style?

Because I changed midway to being quiet and understanding which get me on top of the fight. On the inside, I felt neither angry nor happy. At that moment, I just … did it. I did not plan it. My temper just rose rapidly and then it dissipated when the moment came. And when the fight was finish, aside of adrenaline rush, I didn’t feel anything.

I think you’re a Snake secondary.

I’m not very comfortable with intentional deception. I’m a terrible liar when I tried to actively lie.

Yeah, see. “Actively lying” is a skill, it’s something you’ve got to prepare and plan for. It’s really more a Bird thing. What you do… probably doesn’t feel like lying.

But misleading or trickery are quite ok for me.

Exactly.

If some people want to think they are the top dog, let them. They will do all the work and I can just work on whatever I need without interference. It still bothers me sometimes when people think I’m omega dog but it’s fine, so long as I get what I want.

You’re not the Revolutionary, you’re the Robin Hood. Of course you are.

I’m normally very blunt and tactless. I have terrible temper that explodes quickly but I can just ignore it and perform too.

Some of this (who am I kidding, a lot of this) probably goes back to that semi-Exploded primary, but it’s also possible that you either model Lion secondary, and/or spend a lot of time in Neutral.

This might be unrelated but I’m often ignored and blend into the background, rather than apart from the crowd. One of my friends mentioned that while he knew how passionate I am about the cause ‘I’ve never seen to take any actions about your cause before’ until I went and made a speech in the mob. I am that unseen. I prefer working in the shadow, spinning webs and emerge into the light when no one can do anything about me anymore. Working so openly in the light feels odd for me.

… I think that’s the most Lion Snake thing I have *ever* read.

When I work in team, people tend to either love me (because quality of work is usually high) or hate me (because I can be really demanding.) When I work, I expect effectiveness and independence from my team. I don’t like micromanaging.

Another little hint that you’re an Idealist/Improvisational combo. You are the definition of a Big Picture person.

I give them the catch, and criteria. How they want to accomplish it is completely up to them.

Which is a really, really Improvisational way to work.

I believe there aren’t a correct way to do things. So long as the job gets done and all underlines met, it’s fine if you want to take short cuts.

Yep.

It is … very long. So, I thank you for reading it to this paragraph. I genuinely really appreciate it. I really, really love this tumblr and I hope to learn more about SHC. It’s just sooo interesting and refreshing. Keep it up :) Additional info: I’m ENFP 9w8 So/Sp

I think that the people who write in for sorting help fit into two general categories. There are people dealing with a Burning issue that masks their sorting… and there are people who are SO INCREDIBLY LOUDLY one sorting that they simply can’t see it. The way you can’t hear your own accent. Anyway, you very much belong in the second category.

#submission #sortme #wisteria sorts #sortinghatchats #lion snake #lionpri #snakesec #I'm not sure theres even any modeling going on here #i wonder if thats a lion snake thing #lion primary #exploded lion #snake secondary

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