#as long as there's a distinction between ''reality and fiction''

[fight-nights-at-freddys]

i think its funny that antis can't comprehend the fact that my therapist is okay with me shipping problematic things and that she also dislikes antis.

[hoeneymilktea]

deciphered ✧ tooru oikawa chapter 4 | renegade nights

Your cousin, Hajime Iwaizumi—whom you haven't seen in a long time, invited you to support him at the largest street racing event in Tokyo. He told you he was a part of the Seijoh Brawlers, one of the notorious top five gangs affiliated with the underground street racing scene. Once he introduced you to his leader, Tooru Oikawa, a.k.a. Cypher—your interest piqued, curiously wanting to understand the true meaning behind his alleged nickname.

✧ pairing — tooru oikawa / afab reader ✧ genre — erotica/smut, action romance, crime romance, dark romance (absolutely no dv/sa), psychological thriller, crime/detective mystery ✧ rating — very explicit, 18+ mdni ✧ chapter word count — 9.6k ✧ content warnings — violence, street racing, references to drugs, explicit sexual content, heavy angst. see below break for chapter specific warnings ↴

author's note — This fanfic is inspired by the beautiful and amazing fanart of Street Racer AU Tooru Oikawa. Artist is @aikk00. disclaimer — I do not condone the romanticization of the yakuza or the reality of gang life as I intended not to portray that kind of interpretation, nor promote the activity of illegal street racing. Do not seek out these types of experiences as this work is just a piece of fiction. Please remember to read at your own risk.

ramen & racing ⇠ renegade nights ⇢ rescuing sly fox

✧ chapter specific content warnings: explicit sexual content, dark themes, degradation, choking, slapping, foreplay, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, overstimulation, lots of dirty talk per usual, a little dubious but very much consensual, everything done here is created with sexual tension please for the love of god, it's lowkey argument sex but lol, goddamn i didn't realize i was the one who wrote this like daaaaamn this shit is nastyyyyy lol

The temperature of the condo decreased as the silence grew, both you and Leia staring at each other with guilt for one another. You felt ashamed for eavesdropping on their conversation while Leia felt disappointed in herself for exposing the news so suddenly. Regardless, none of you were at fault as the situation came unexpectedly with no time to prepare.

Your fingers started to tremble while your body felt like it was sinking deeper and deeper into the couch. Leia paced in front of the window wall anxiously, scratching the back of her head while thinking of ways to explain the situation. Drugs were one thing, but murder was on an entirely different tier of morality—how was she supposed to justify it?

"I'll keep quiet," you murmured out, backing into the corner of the couch. "If you're worried about me going to the police, you don't have to—"

Leia abruptly called your name out, startling you for a bit. She raised her hands up in front of herself, reassuring the situation. "Relax, relax. We're not going to do anything to you."

She stared straight into your eyes and eased her hands down to the couch, touching the cushion before sitting down close to your body. Your heart pounded louder in your chest, unable to clearly hear her attempts to calm you down. In an instant, she grasped both of your hands in between hers, leaning forward into your face.

"I just need you to stay calm," she softly spoke, her silhouette shadowed in the neon lights outside. "Tooru may or may not tell you about what happened, so if he does, don't mention that you heard the news from me."

Her voice was solemn and straight-forward, dealing with the situation in extreme caution while you avoided making eye contact with her. You tried your best to remain calm while you nodded your head in agreement, still slightly shaken by the news.

Suddenly, you both heard two engines roar into the night—the sound of the cars were distinct with a high pitched rotation, knowing exactly it was Oikawa and Kuroo behind the wheels.

You were unable to make a clear judgement in the moment—the first night you met Oikawa, he seemed genuine, showing a side of himself you did not expect someone like him would show. He was honest, gentle and vulnerable with not only you, but with himself as well. Yet tonight, it seemed like he was the complete opposite, not sure if what you perceived him to be earlier was true.

Leia immediately stood up and walked over to the window, peering down at the street filled with vehicles and pedestrians. The familiar white and red cars accelerated loudly beneath the building, their engines echoing up to where you both were.

"They're here. I just saw them pull in." Leia quickly sat back on the couch, acting as nothing happened within the past five minutes.

You sat still in your seat, patiently waiting for what was to come next. It was difficult to think about ways to avoid mentioning the situation to Oikawa without including how you obtained the information, unsure if you should even bring it up in the first place. You thought if it was even worth staying in his condo after learning what he did, wondering if you should just leave the premises instead.

"Leia, I—"

Click Click.

You both whipped your heads around when the door lock went off from behind the couch, interrupting your attempt to converse with Leia one last time.

Your eyes shifted towards the door swinging open while Oikawa stepped in first, covered in scratches, blood stains and dirt scuffs. Punctures, gashes and bloodstains were made into his white t-shirt while his black jeans were defiled and dripping with dirt and dark splashes of a wet substance. His knuckles were bruised and battered while he gripped his hand into a fist, the red marks of his wounds bulging from his skin.

Kuroo was no different—a large mark slashed across his face was covered by a single bandaid with a large bruise on his right arm, purple to the surface. His tank top was severely damaged with slits lacerated into his chest, dried blood and scabs contributing to his injuries.

"Leia, let's go." Kuroo commanded in a calm yet intimidating tone, visibly exhausted from their emergency.

She did not fight his request, simply rising up from the couch and making her way over. Leia nodded before she shot you a concerning stare, waving goodbye in the process.

"I'll text you," she promised, crossing her arms over her chest while she walked backwards. "Keep in mind what I told you about."

When she stepped out of his condo and into the corridor, Kuroo clasped his right palm against Oikawa's before patting each other on the back with the other hand to wish another goodbye. They left the condo quickly while Oikawa closed the door behind them, slowing down his movements before walking towards you.

You didn't say a word to him, much less look at him while he walked over to the kitchen to wash his hands. The tension was apparent; he could sense you were on edge. Oikawa slowly walked over to where you were sitting, hands in his pockets to hide his bruised knuckles.

He called your name softly behind the couch, grabbing your attention. You turned around and instantly looked up to make eye contact with him, noticing a dreadful look on his face. His brown eyes were usually vibrant and saturated in color, but when you looked up into them, they seemed dull and dark, almost greyish in tone. His posture was slumped slightly with his front bangs slicked back to reveal the multiple bruises scattered on his jaw.

"What happened? Are you okay?" You asked, quickly getting up from the couch.

Oikawa did not respond, instead he continued to stare at you with a blank expression, standstill in his posture. He pursed his lips and pulled his right hand out of his pocket, bending over to pick your hand up.

In the corner of your eye, you saw his swollen and contused knuckles, red in color while slowly recovering from the injuries. His hands were cold and shivering when he touched you, desperately trying to intertwine his fingers with yours.

"What happened to you, Tooru?" You looked up at him one more time, inspecting his hands all over. They were normally soft, but when you turned his palms to face up at the ceiling, they were rough and calloused.

He didn't answer again and closed his eyes with a despondent frown, telling everything you needed to know about how he was feeling at the moment.

"Can you tell me what happened?" You repeated one more time with your eyebrows pinched, growing irritated at the neglect of your questions.

"It's best if you didn't know." Oikawa lowered his head as you watched his bangs fall down.

"Can I at least help you clean your wounds, then?" You hovered your hand over several purple bruises and cuts on his arms, inspecting if any of them were infected. Oikawa instantly retracted his arm back from you, sitting down on the couch.

"I can handle them myself." He responded in a deep and irritated tone, obvious that he was not feeling well.

Certain social cues from Oikawa made his point clear to you. His condo fell silent as you did not say anything back, rather standing still in front of him resting on the couch. Your hands fidgeted uncomfortably, looking around the living room to buy yourself some time to process the moment. He pulled out his phone and started to scroll through on it, not saying a word as well.

You thought about Leia's advice, staying calm with him and not mentioning the call with DK earlier. It seemed apparent that he wasn't going to say anything, acknowledging that any action you could do would upset him. Instead, you decided to collect all of your things from the coffee table and walk towards the front of his door, slipping your shoes back on.

Oikawa heard you take off his bomber jacket and place it on the coat stand before unlocking the front door, opening it slightly. He quickly turned around with a saddened frown on his face, gripping the back of the couch cushions.

"Where are you going?"

"Home," you responded, halfway headed out the door. Your cell was in your hand with Iwaizumi's speed-dial open, ready to call. You pressed his number on the screen, placing the phone up to your ear. "It seems like you'd rather be left alone. Don't worry about dropping me off, I'll call Hajime to come pick me up. I'll see you soon, Tooru."

"No," Oikawa jolted up from the couch and ran to the front door, grabbing your hand quickly to pull you back in. You looked at him with the dial tone ringing in your ears, a blank stare resting on your face.

His fingers held yours so delicately, rubbing his thumb across your knuckles while his eyes filled with sorrow, upset that you decided to leave on your own. "I want you to stay."

You pursed your lips, moving them to the left side of your face. It was in Oikawa's favor that Iwaizumi did not pick up his phone, letting his voicemail inbox ring in your ears. You pulled your hand out of his grip to quickly text Iwaizumi a false alarm, letting him know to ignore your call.

You calmly stepped back inside, putting your phone back into your pocket without making eye contact with him. Oikawa placed his hand on the handle of the door and closed it quietly, locking it in place while you took off your shoes again.

"I'm only staying if you tell me what happened to you." You calmly mentioned, setting down your shoes by the door.

"I can't do that, I'm sorry." Oikawa quietly responded, his voice sounding upset like he was about to cry.

You stared at him again without an expression on your face, his whole condo dark and quiet without any light besides the lit candle on the table and the blue neon signs outside the window. Oikawa's eyes were half open with his hair messed up, dried blood still scattered on his t-shirt. He tried to reach his hand out to stroke your cheek, but you shrugged off his attempt.

"Tooru, I don't want to worry all night about why there's blood on your shirt and gashes across your chest while I'm staying here at your place. The least you could do is tell me what happened." You tightened your fist and gritted the back of your teeth, sighing right after.

Yet again, perpetual silence clouded the atmosphere. It almost pained Oikawa to admit why he didn't to tell you the truth, but he knew you deserved to know. Under his breath in the quietest volume possible, he whispered, mustering out all the strength within him.

"I'm afraid if I tell you what happened, you'll think of me differently."

"Why would you assume that?"

"Because I really like you," Oikawa's voice deepened as he tried to reach his hand out to you again, placing his fingers on the side of your cheek. "And I don't want you to hate me."

They said one's eyes are the windows to the soul, yet when you stared deep into Oikawa's, there was nothing there for you to look at. His pupils were pitch black, despite the iridescent lights outside the windows reflecting on his body. With one closer look, you saw your reflection in his eyes, brushed away by his eyelashes blinking after.

"Look, I understand you're afraid to tell me, but I don't like it when secrets are kept, regardless of who you are. I value honesty, and I'm not willing to compromise on that. I know what I deserve, and if you aren't going to be honest with me, I'm just gonna leave."

You raised your voice with an irritated tone, holding onto all of your belongings. Oikawa stopped making eye contact with you, looking down at his feet instead. You waited patiently for a response, but as several seconds of silence passed by without him saying a word, you scoffed and slid your shoes on your feet.

You pushed Oikawa aside, unlocking the door and opening it slightly. Just as you were about to head out, you looked over your shoulder back at him, meeting with his melancholic eyes once again. "I'll be going, Tooru. See you later."

"Wait," Oikawa interrupted, grabbing your wrist.

"I got in a fight with another racer from the Inarizaki Bois. He tried to steal some of our car parts from the tune shop." Oikawa lied, holding tighter to your wrist. "That's why DK and I had to go deal with it. Don't worry about it anymore."

You didn't respond right away, processing his explanation. If you hadn't known the truth, it could have been a believable alibi—yet you knew better, and the fact Oikawa had lied so easily upset you even more than it should have. You closed your eyes and yanked your hand away from Oikawa, not wanting him to touch you anymore.

"Bullshit," you scoffed, shaking your head in absolute disappointment. "I can't believe you just lied straight to my face."

Oikawa stopped breathing for a second, standing still in place. His heart raced faster and faster, knowing you caught him in a lie. "I...I mean—"

"The Nohebi clan," you interrupted him, closing the door behind you. Once the locks clicked, you whispered in a stern tone while keeping distance from him. "You killed all of them. You killed all them and lied straight to my face about it."

Oikawa's eyes grew wide, shocked by your accusation. "H-How, how—?"

"I can see why you guys call DK a loudmouth, because he sure does have one."

You dropped your shoes back on the floor once more and pushed Oikawa out of your direction, making your way over to the other side of his condo, creating distance between you both. You took your phone out and began to text Iwaizumi again, asking if he could pick you up.

"Why did you keep asking me about what happened if you already knew? Why didn't you tell me in the first place?" Oikawa began to walk towards you with a frown on his lips and irritation in his voice.

You looked up from your phone with another expressionless look on your face, noticing he was becoming more aggravated. You could see the frustration and anger in his eyes—although, two sides of the same coin, there was a flush of sorrow and guilt as well.

"I wanted to hear the news directly from you." Your voice remained calm, despite your anger intensifying. "I wanted to give you a chance to explain yourself. Instead, you decided to lie to me."

The cuts on his skin were fresh and stinging, bringing Oikawa to walk over to the kitchen to run his arm under cold water. He opened a free drawer that contained a first aid kit, removing a gauze and some disinfectant from the container for his wounds. Reaching both of his hands behind his neck, he grabbed the back collar of his shirt and pulled it over his head, revealing multiple cuts and bruises on his arms and chest.

"I understand you wanted to know, but it really doesn't involve you." His eyebrows pinched close together, exaggerating the agitated look in his eyes that he didn't even try to mask. He took a towel and ran it under cold water before beginning to wrap his cuts with the gauze, securing it with a bandage.

"Tooru, it involves me one-hundred-percent. You're Hajime's boss, if you end up dragging him along in your business, I'm going to have to deal with the consequences as well." You placed your phone down on the dining table with the half written text message to Iwaizumi left unsent.

Oikawa emerged from the kitchen in just his black jeans and a bandage across his arm, walking towards you. His skin was damp from the wet towel he used to clean the cuts on his chest, swiping his right hand across to flick some water off his body.

He grabbed the pistol resting on the side of his hip and dropped it on the dining table right next to the candle you lit earlier. The rattle from the glass echoed throughout his condo with a long silence followed thereafter. Oikawa looked down at the candle, watching the flame dance between the wick and the oil.

"Then I'll make sure that doesn't happen," Oikawa raised his voice, his eyes still fixated on his hand resting on his pistol. "The less involved, the better the situation will be handled. This is why I didn't want you to know."

He continued to look down at his hands leaning on the table, unable to make eye contact. You took a few steps closer to him, placing your left hand on his right shoulder, watching him flinch slightly as you touched his skin.

"I understand and trust you to make sure it doesn't happen, It's just... did you not trust me enough to keep it a secret?"

Oikawa didn't say a word and kept his head lowered, the wispy bangs on his forehead hanging down below as it covered both of his eyes.

"Tooru, do you trust me?"

Once again, silence fell through the darkened room without a response from him. Oikawa stood up straight and placed both of his hands inside his pockets, turning his body to face you with a dark and gloomy aura surrounding his presence. Your heart pounded through your chest as you looked up into his gaze—his pupils constricted as his eyes enlarged to the point they looked like they were about to pop out of his face.

He took a step closer to you; one at a time with one foot in front of the other. Soft patters and shuffles on the wooden oak floor echoed within the condo until your back slowly pressed up against the wall near the dining table. Oikawa lifted his head up with an expressionless look on his face, feeling his breath tickle on the side of your cheek.

You gazed into his eyes, watching the corners of his mouth quiver, shaded by the hesitated breath he took before staring back at you too. Your bodies were centimeters away from each other, reaching out to rest your fingers on his right bicep covered in a layer of gauze. He winced before relaxing his arm, placing his right hand on the wall above your head with his other situated at the crook of your neck.

While looking at your reflection in his pupils, he lowered his head to kiss you, only to be immediately stopped by your hand pressing up against his chest. His skin was cold to the touch while your fingers trailed down his body, careful to not touch his cuts. While dropping your eyelids, you gazed deep into his eyes and repeated your question one more time, whispering it near his lips.

"Do you trust me?"

"Not yet."

His fingers traced up your neck, slowly brushing against your skin before lightly tilting your chin up with his index finger. His lips hovered over yours, feeling tickles of his breath over your face. He gently moved your head to the right in order to expose the left side of your neck, burying himself in between your collarbone and jaw, planting kisses all over in between.

Oikawa tightened his grip around your throat before immediately smashing his lips onto yours, roughly pushing your head up against the wall. Every time your lips parted for a small breath of air, he would shove his tongue into your mouth, forcing you to taste the dull metal of his tongue piercing as it grazed against your teeth.

He pulled his lips away from yours to plant kisses on your jaw again before he placed his left thumb into your mouth, letting you delicately suck on it while your tongue pressed against the tip of his digit. You felt him drag his thumb against your lip, pulling it down to expose your bottom teeth. He peered at you with his eyes half open, exhaling softly through his mouth.

"Do you trust me?" Oikawa whispered softly against your lips, pressing his forehead against yours.

"I wish I didn't."

His lips touched yours again, slowly and sensually kissing his way down your jaw, neck and collarbone. Tracing his way back up, he roughly kissed your lips one more, moving your head to the side while he cradled your face. Your hands wandered up his chest and around the back of his neck, intertwining your fingers through his hair as he pressed your body up against the wall.

When he pulled away from the kiss, he slid his hand up your top to grasp your right breast, kneading and pinching right through your bra. You roughly took off your clothes one by one, leaving yourself only in your underwear while Oikawa gripped his hand around your throat again, pressing the back of your head against the wall.

You inhaled deeply through your nose as his fingers remained around the sides of your neck, staring intently into his eyes. Your body felt hot against Oikawa's while you both remained still, only the quiet exhales of his breaths on your face could be heard. When you looked down at him with a smirk, you softly spoke a request, knowing exactly what was to come next between you both.

"Go rough this time, I want to feel something different."

Within that second, Oikawa smashed his lips on yours once again with a quiet chuckle under his breath. "As you wish."

His hands wandered throughout your body again—kissing down your lips, neck and chest—all before trailing his tongue down your stomach and crouching his head in between your thighs. He hooked his fingers against the thin elastic of your underwear, pulling them down to spread your legs apart.

He slipped the fabric off your legs as it dangled on your toes, kissing and sucking on your inner thighs, leaving multiple marks on your skin during the process. The pain felt pleasurable, watching him lick and bite all over your thighs made you ache for more, stroking back his brown hair behind his ears.

Sooner or later, he made his way back in between your legs, making sure to bite, kiss and mark every inch of you before starting. The bottom of his tongue piercing touched your skin while Oikawa lifted your left leg up, curling and digging his fingers deeper into your flesh. You moaned as his tongue pressed against you, feeling the tip enter through your pussy in search of your clit.

"Tooru, oh my god," you whispered, gasping for air. Your whole body felt hot while he spread your legs further apart, letting you rest your weight against the wall. All you saw was Oikawa's head buried in between your legs when his tongue flicked at your clit, purposefully pressing his tongue piercing against it.

"Keep still." Oikawa mumbled in between your legs as you ran your fingers through his brown locks. You pushed his bangs back, exposing the view of his face—his eyes closed, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips sucking voraciously on your clit.

Oikawa knew exactly how to pleasure your body as he has done before, except for this time, keeping in mind your request to be rougher. He rolled your clit in between his tongue and the front of his teeth, making your eyes move to the back of your skull, breathing deeply into your lungs while your head pressed against the wall. His lips suctioned around your clit again before licking up any essence dripping down his tongue, feeling your legs tremble while his hands held your body still.

You felt a sharp temperature change deep inside of your core when Oikawa slipped in two fingers, cold as ice, pumping them slowly but surely into you. The tips of his long fingers hit deep into you when he quickly thrusted in and out, feeling yourself clench around him while grabbing the back of his head. Staggered exhales escaped from your mouth while you closed your eyes, feeling him swirl the tip of his tongue around you simultaneously.

"Please, please—fuck!" You interrupted yourself, feeling him roughly suck on your clit again, sending mixed signals of pleasure and pain up to your brain.

His name escaped your lips as you moaned out in pleasure, leaning over to feel your core build up pressure. Oikawa continued to pump his fingers inside of you, gasping for air in between your legs while you rocked your hips back and forth. He guided your body to release, holding you down while the blood rushed to the surface of your skin.

His tongue slowly and sensually explored around your pussy as his fingers plunged deep inside of you, gently scraping the tips of fingers against your g-spot continuously. The feeling kept driving you over the edge, holding on tighter to the back of Oikawa's hair. He moaned in between your legs, quickly giving you a slap to your ass while digging his fingers deeper and deeper into your skin.

With your right leg still on the floor, your toes raised higher and higher until you slammed your hand onto the dining table. The rattle of the glass lit candle and Oikawa's pistol startled you, feeling your heart race faster and faster. A whimper erupted from your throat as you bit your lip and closed your eyes, sliding your head down on the wall.

Your eyes began to water in the corners of your eyes, pleasure overwhelming your body entirely from every one of his touches. No one had ever pleasured you the way Oikawa did— and he wasn't even inside of you yet.

"Fuck, Tooru!" Your head pressed back up into the wall again, closing your eyes shut to moan at the top of your lungs, feeling yourself come all over his fingers.

"Mmm, ahaha." Oikawa lightly chuckled between your legs, feeling the deep vibration of his hum. You kept coming into his mouth, feeling every ounce of yourself drip down your thighs. Oikawa quickened the pace of his thrusts, repeatedly hitting his fingers in a come-hither motion, wringing out the last bit of your essence onto his tongue.

Watching you come aroused Oikawa to the fullest; having you scream his name and squirt from his manipulation caused the bulge in his pants to grow tighter. Every time your thighs closed in on his face while your hands ran through his hair, he couldn't get enough of you, craving every bit of your reactions of pleasure.

You bucked your hips upward and locked your fingers in his hair, hearing your moans echo into the room. He groaned into you again, pushing his fingers deep inside your pussy while his bruised knuckles hit against your thighs. With every thrust, there was a quick pause—and with that, you rode out your first orgasm of the night.

He removed both himself and his fingers from your pussy, releasing a satiated exhale with a pop from his mouth. Your legs continued to tremble, knocking the edge of your knees against each other as Oikawa placed his hands directly on your waist to hold you still. He slowly crouched back up, sliding his hands up your chest to cup your right breast before instantly shoving his wet fingers down your mouth.

"That's right, suck them nice and slow. Good girl," Oikawa reassured, cupping the side of your face as his thumb gently stroked your cheek. "Keep doing that."

You choked and coughed when you felt the pads of his fingertips graze against the back of your throat, tears forming in the corners of your eyes. Once he removed them from your mouth, Oikawa placed the same two fingers on his tongue, wrapping his lips around to savor every last bit of your taste.

His eyes became dark, feeling the mood of the atmosphere grow lascivious and carnal between you two. Your skin felt hot and sweltered, regardless of the cold temperature of his condo. Wandering hands grazed up and down bodies while murmurs of silent prayers escaped through lips to satisfy the soul. Oikawa knew exactly what to do to your body—and nothing aroused him more than to see you crumble in his arms, entirely defeated from his touch.

As you caught your breath, Oikawa reached behind your back and pulled your head down, forcing your eyes to stare at the ceiling. Tilting your head to the side, he buried his head into your neck, biting into your shoulder and tasting the sweat of your skin. A hesitated moan from your lips softly echoed into his ears, feeling his dick grind against your thighs.

Your clothes scattered the wooden floors, most of them thrown near the couch, only a few feet over. His aggressive touching and rough biting were elements of his dominant behavior, only fulfilling what you requested from him. Oikawa's hands were always wrapped around the base of your neck, his fingers slightly pinching the sides of your throat.

One action led to another, footsteps moving from the wall to the floor, bodies thrown onto the couch. The cold leather touch shocked you both awake, goosebumps raising on the surface of your skin. Kissing, touching, and moaning continued while hands grasped at the cushions, the night sky and neon lights illuminating from outside.

Oikawa pulled himself away and off your body, standing up from the couch. He towered over you like a building, blood from the cuts on his arm soaking through the gauze wrapped around his bicep. The chain around his neck misaligned, sticking to his chest while he took a deep breath, staring at your naked body down below.

You gazed back up at his body blocking the moonlight from the window wall, slowly sitting up straight. While he began to unbuckle his jeans, you watched his muscles flex, focusing your attention on the traditional Japanese dragon tattoo on his right arm and the sakura flowers floating atop waves of water on his left. He was the epitome of everything you found attractive in a man—tall, slim, muscular and decorated with tattoos.

His jeans and underwear dropped to the floor, slowly slipping one leg out at a time. Oikawa was left naked in his living room just like you; making his way to hover over your body, quickly kissing your lips once more. He wrapped his right hand around the base of his dick, slowly pumping himself up and down before he grabbed the back of your head and forced you close to his hips.

"It's your turn to pleasure me." His voice became deep and demanding, still holding your head in place. "Suck it."

"That's what I'm gonna fucking do," you retorted, placing your right hand on his adonis belt and your left hand on the base of his shaft, slowly pumping it up and down.

"Then hurry up. I'm not going to repeat myself." Oikawa commanded as he collected your hair into his grip, pulling it back when you placed your tongue on the tip of his cock. Gradually, you began to bob your head back and forth, letting your saliva trail all over him.

Oikawa exhaled a staggered groan when he felt your tongue swirl under the head of his dick, flicking it repeatedly from side to side. You kissed the tip quickly before wrapping your lips around it, feeling his shaft fill up your whole mouth, letting it reached the back of your throat.

You closed your eyes, moving both your hand and lips along to a rhythm inside your head. Oikawa watched you from above, absolutely mesmerized by his dick going in and out of your mouth quickly, assisted by your wrists twisting and turning. He let out an apprehended moan, unwilling to admit he was left vulnerable at your disposal.

His quiet grunts of pleasure started to accumulate in the empty room accompanied by the voracious sound of your lips sucking on his dick. He was big; filling up the entirety of your mouth every time his hips thrusted forward. Oikawa cradled the side of your cheek, sliding his left hand right under your ear, holding the back of your head tightly.

"Mmm, fuck yeah." Oikawa moaned, sharply inhaling when the tip of your tongue grazed against the head of his dick. "Suck my cock like the little slut you are."

He started moving his hips forward while he placed both of his hands behind your head, continually slamming himself inside of your mouth as tears rolled down your face. You looked up at him when your eyes became blurry, only the moonlight and his dark silhouette filling up your field of vision. Oikawa pulled his dick out of your mouth, slapping your face with the back of his hand.

"No crying. Take it like a good girl, understand?"

The sting on your cheek started to subside, completely compensated with the rush of adrenaline inside your body. You furrowed your eyebrows up at him, giving a slight head nod before he menacingly smirked down at you, aroused by the sight of your tears dripping down your eyes.

"I understand."

He gripped your cheeks, pinching your cheeks close together before he leaned down close to your ear.

"I'm going to make you beg for me to fuck you." His ominous threat left you shocked as he let go of your cheeks and grabbed the base of his shaft, slapping your tear-stained cheek with his dick. "Open up, baby. Say ahh."

You stuck your tongue out only for him to shove himself back into your mouth, the tip of his dick touching the back of your throat once more. The force of his hips lunging forward caused you to gag, forcing a cough out when your lips touched the base of his shaft. When he pulled out immediately, you gasped for air, coughing out any irritation in your throat as he stroked the side of your cheek, propping his index finger underneath your chin.

"Aw, my poor baby. Can't handle it? Hmm?" He teased, looking down at you with a mischievous smile. You looked him in the eyes as he tapped your cheek twice with two fingers, insinuating a warning before he slapped you across the face. "Too fucking bad."

The sting on your cheek felt refreshing, reshaping any sense of pain into pleasure. Degradation from Oikawa aroused you more than ever, feeling yourself yearn for something that was lacking in your life. It was transformative, sensual and ravenous—something you craved to feel.

He grabbed the base of his shaft and smacked your cheek with his dick, shoving it in your mouth once you willingly stuck your tongue out. Oikawa grasped the top of your throat with his right hand while you sucked his dick again, pinching the sides of your neck and digging his nails into your skin.

"Finally being a good girl now, hmm?" Oikawa's eyebrows raised but kept his eyelids drooped as he smirked down at your face, thrusting his dick repeatedly into your mouth. "Why, do you want me to fuck you?"

You closed your eyes and nodded your head, to which he wiped away the tears on your cheeks with his thumb.

"I want to hear you say it then."

Oikawa pulled out his cock from your mouth before you gasped for air, leaving a small trail of saliva connecting your bottom lip and the tip of his dick. He let go of his grip on your throat and caressed your face with the same hand, swiping his thumb on your soft skin. Your eyes began to sting when you looked up at him, watching his face contort into a wicked grin, shoving his thumb into your mouth.

"Fuck me, please." You mumbled, your voice obstructed from the tip of his thumb grazing over your lips.

"Good girl. Lay on your back and spread your legs open for me." He chuckled ominously, pushing your shoulder down onto the couch.

You did as you were told, laying on your back to spread open your thighs. The tears in your eyes were quickly wiped off with the back of your hand, watching Oikawa crawl onto the couch and place both of his knees onto the couch, straddling over your figure. He stroked his dick up and down with his right hand before grabbing onto the armrest of the couch above your head.

He leaned down, placing a sensual kiss on your lips. "I'm not going to be gentle."

"I never wanted you to be."

You wrapped both of your hands around the back of his neck, moaning into his mouth when you felt the tip of his cock graze your pussy, sliding into you with ease. He filled you up instantly, feeling yourself becoming tighter and tighter as he pushed his way in deeper and deeper. Oikawa placed his left hand on your right breast and kneaded your nipple against his thumb, pressing down and pinching it slightly against his index finger.

You felt his hot breath against your mouth as he kissed your lips, feeling his tongue piercing graze against your teeth. Moaning into his mouth, you instinctively bucked your hips into his.

"Excited now, are we?" He teased in a brash tone, inhaling deeply as he began to move his hips slowly.

"Shut up and fuck me already," you whispered into his ears, placing your index finger on his lips.

You didn't have to tell him twice as he started to thrust into you faster, sliding his dick out entirely before forcefully shoving himself back in. He grabbed onto your shoulders, pulling your body against his while he fucked you roughly. You felt him move in and out of your pussy effortlessly, entirely lubricated by your slick.

"Fuck, you're so tight," Oikawa groaned as he continuously pumped his dick inside of you, the tip of his head kissing your cervix with every thrust. "Your pussy feels so fucking good."

You placed your feet up onto his shoulders before he grabbed onto your ankles, looking down at your body moving synchronously to his own rhythm. He was mesmerized by your breasts bouncing up and down every time his hips collided with yours, feeling his dick sink deeper into you. Oikawa's quiet grunts in your ear drowned out the pulsation of your heart throughout your body, overwhelmed by the motions of his thrusts.

"You're taking my dick so well like a good little slut," Oikawa harshly spoke through his teeth with a low guttural sound in the back of his throat, exhaling a soft chuckle thereafter. He slapped your face with his left hand before grabbing onto your right breast, leaving you gasping for air with the sting on your face lingering.

You began to darkly chuckle, placing your left hand over your cheek. "Oh you're so fucking dea—"

Oikawa choked you with his right hand, tightening his grip around the base of your neck before lowering his face down to your left ear.

"I'm so fucking what now?" He teased, placing kisses and bites along your jaw and down the side of your neck.

He then slipped his other hand underneath your spine, lifting your upper body up from the couch. Oikawa leaned back and sat on his hind legs while you wrapped your right arm around his neck, placing your left hand behind on the armrest. Staggered and shallow breaths escaped your lips as he pressed his forehead against yours, watching your body start to give in.

"Ride me," Oikawa breathed into your mouth before placing a small kiss on your lips. "You do the work now and ride my dick."

You placed both of your hands behind on the armrest of the couch, resting most of your weight on your arms. Your hips began to rock back and forth, bouncing your entire body up and down. He grabbed your waist with both of his hands roughly, controlling your hips to grind against his. His fingers dug deep into the sides of your waist, watching his thumbs massage your skin sensually every time he thrusted into you.

Oikawa guided your body to grind on him, shoving his dick deeper into you with every thrust down. He grunted as you swayed your hips, sliding his right hand off your waist while he reached up behind and grabbed the back of your neck. While digging his fingers into your shoulder, he shot you a smirk before carelessly smashing his lips onto yours.

"Mmm, fuck." He mumbled into your mouth, leaning both of his arms back on the couch cushions. Oikawa threw his head back, closing his eyes and groaning your name as he pushed back his sweaty bangs from his face.

You clung both of your hands onto the back of his neck, locking your fingers together to balance your body onto his. While watching you vigorously grind your hips on his dick, Oikawa admired the view of your body swaying in circles, repeatedly bouncing your ass up and down.

"Fucking ride that cock, baby." Oikawa unabashedly encouraged, slapped your ass hard from behind, causing you to moan louder into his ear.

Every nerve in your body became heightened with blood rushing through your veins, sweat dripping down your back and the feeling of euphoria stimulating your brain. His dick penetrated deep inside you again and again with multiple bite marks across your neck, shoulders and chest accompanying each thrust forward. A breathless moan escaped your lips every time you swayed your hips, feeling your eyes roll to the back of your skull.

He wrapped his right arm around your waist, pulling your body closer to his as he sucked on your right nipple. While still riding his dick, you bounced up and down and rocked your hips back and forth in a reckless manner as he struggled to keep his lips on your breasts. You felt his tongue piercing roll around your nipple, roughly suck and licking your skin.

"Fuck, fuck—Tooru!" You cried out, smothering his face into your chest. Oikawa grabbed your waist roughly, digging his calloused fingers into your flesh while rapidly thrusting himself inside of you. He sucked on your nipple one last time before pulling back, exhaling a satiated noise with a smile on his face.

"Slap me." He darkly chuckled, throwing his head back to look up at you. "Slap me right fucking now."

You raised your arm up and smacked his face with the back of your hand, leaving a hard mark on the side of his cheek. Immediately, he returned the favor—slapping your face once again as your head instantly whipped to the side.

"Good girl, always following directions." He smirked up at your face, squinting his eyes and furrowing his eyebrows. "You fucking like that, don't you?"

The pain felt good on your skin, leaving another stinging sensation around your face. You quickly grabbed the base of his jaw and leaned your face close to his, whispering in his ear. "Only from you."

A smile crept on his lips when you shoved his face back, removing your grip on his jaw. Your hands then wandered underneath his arms straight to his back, scratching your nails against his skin, leaving red marks all over the top of his shoulders. Another hitched moan escaped your lips, feeling Oikawa angle your body down for his dick to repeatedly hit your g-spot.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck! Oh my god, Tooru—fuck!" You rolled your head back while exhaling out another moan, the sound absolutely ungodly to the ears.

You tried to catch your breath as your eyes dragged above your eyelids, seeing stars and orbs in your vision. The pressure inside of your body started to accumulate, aching for another release from within. Repeated slaps of skin and gasps of air drowned out any noise within the room, only you and Oikawa left alone in the company of one another.

Suddenly, your body reached its peak—releasing a wave of pleasure all throughout your veins, dripping liquid all over your legs and onto his hips. Your fingers dug deeper into his skin, looking up to the ceiling.

"Fucking bitch," he grabbed onto the base of your neck, pulling your face down to meet his. You held onto his wrist, trying your hardest to remove his hand as your brain started to feel the rush of adrenaline. "You got the couch all wet."

All the pain you felt transformed into pleasure, intensifying your arousal. You could not have cared any less for the mess you made, entirely shrouded and overwhelmed with complete ecstasy. Your heartbeat raced all throughout your body, causing your limbs to convulse in overstimulation.

"Just for that, you're getting punished." He released his grip on your neck, letting you take a deep breath afterwards. He slapped your ass hard, motioning for you to get off his body. "Off. Now."

You did as he commanded, lifting your legs off his body and dropping yourself back onto the couch. He walked towards the large window wall, pointing a finger at the skyline.

"I want your hands and body up against the window, now."

You lifted one leg off the couch at a time, slowly making your way over to where he was. Oikawa crossed his arms when you flung your arms around his neck playfully, pulling his ear down to your lips.

"Why don't you do it for me?"

You closed your eyes and leaned your body back before letting out soft playful laughter, only to have your body roughly pushed against the window with both of your hands pinned behind your back. He breathed on the back of your ear, pressing his hips on your ass.

"Shut up," he growled in your ear, holding your head in place with your left cheek smothered on the glass. "Don't move a muscle."

You held in your breath before Oikawa completely let go of your arms, doing as he commanded. He then placed his hand on the crook of your back, pushing you down onto your knees with your cheek still pressed up against the window wall.

"Good girl," he reassured, caressing your skin as he ran a lone finger down your spine. "Now... do you want me to fuck you again?"

You nodded your head before Oikawa leaned over your body, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at your own reflection in the window wall. Your hot skin instantly felt cold pressed against the window, condensation forming around your whole body like a halo. He tucked his head in between the crook of your neck, kissing and biting the remaining skin that was left unmarked from his teeth.

"I want to hear you beg for it."

You saw the bustling street down below with all the large buildings of downtown Tokyo in the distance. The violet sky held the iridescent white moon, shining down on you. Perhaps if you both weren't in a predicament at the moment, it would have been a beautiful night to watch the stars.

Yet there you were, held in the arms of the man you wished you hadn't given your trust so easily to, knees down on the floor and moaning his name. No thoughts ran through your mind, nor any consequences that could have unfolded from your actions. What would have happened if you had left instead of staying and acting upon impulse?

At the very second, you wanted to feel something other than disappointment; you wanted to fuck away the feeling, letting the same man who caused the problem in the first place grant you a different kind of pain instead. You were caught up in the moment, shamefully submissive to your emotions rather than thinking carefully—yet you were not regretful of your decisions one bit, choosing to go back to him every single time.

"Fuck me again." You bit on your lip and pushed your hips back, grinding your ass on his dick. "Fuck me right now, Tooru."

He slapped your ass one more time, sending another rush of blood to the surface of your skin. His hand kept pressing down on your shoulders, lowering your head closer and closer to the floor while your ass remained high in the air, arching your back to fit his preference.

Oikawa leaned down close to your pussy and ran a single finger down the slit, slipping it in before clearing his throat. When one finger inside became two, he spat on your pussy, running his thumb over your clit and massaging his saliva in.

"Atta girl."

Oikawa leaned over and kissed your shoulder, sucking on your skin once again to leave another mark, decorating your body in love bites. You saw him close his eyes in the reflection of the window before he wrapped his right arm around your neck, pulling back on your throat and inhaling your scent. While holding onto forearm and bicep, his lips brushed against the side of your ear, whispering another command.

"Spread your legs." He growled into your ears, slapping his dick against your entrance, pushing the tip of his dick through your slit.

You pressed your forehead against the window wall again and watched your reflection blur from the condensation of your breath fogging up the glass. You stared at yourself first before noticing Oikawa burying his head into the crook of your neck, sucking on your skin as his lips rolled back and forth on your shoulder.

He thrusted himself deep inside you, feeling the tip of his dick kiss the entrance of your cervix instantaneously. You clamped down on his shaft, forcing Oikawa to let out a deep guttural noise in the back of his throat. He began rocking his hips into your ass, feeling the slap of his skin against yours.

You let out a soft hesitated moan, your voice beginning to tremble while your body remained pressed against the cold window wall. His tattooed arms wrapped around your body—one around your neck and the other around your waist, digging his bruised fingers into your skin.

The gauze on his arm was located right across the tail of his dragon tattoo, watching it rub against the bottom of your cheek in the reflection of the window. Dried blood stained through the white, scabbed over and bruised with dark red to the surface. He continued to moan in your ear, thrashing himself all over your body.

"Fuck, baby. I love the way your pussy feels so much," Oikawa mumbled into your ear as he railed himself inside of you continuously. The combined feeling of his dick and the deprivation of oxygen to your brain sent a euphoric feeling to your head, causing your eyes to roll back once more.

You pressed your hands against the window, unable to hold your grip as your palms began to slip down the glass. Oikawa held you close to his body, grabbing onto your waist and pushing himself further inside, feeling every single ounce of his soul slip through his fingertips.

He let go of your hips before placing his left hand on top of yours, intertwining your fingers together on the window wall while condensation formed around the silhouette. You held onto him tightly, squeezing his bruised fingers as it knocked against the wet glass.

A huge wave of desire washed your body as a pleasant and familiar feeling formed, a sense of ephemeral warmth and happiness passing through your mind. It was almost identical to the feeling you felt when you were first with him, only ever experiencing while engaged in sexual activity. You questioned what that feeling was as you locked your fingers with Oikawa's—was it lust or infatuation? Perhaps it could have been love?

"Where do you want me?" He whispered into your ear, pressing his lips against your helix. In one stroke, he railed his cock into your pussy again as you moaned softly.

"Inside," you breathlessly whimpered, staring at him in the window's reflection. "Come inside of me."

"Dirty girl," he softly replied, flexing his bicep around your neck before kissing your cheek. "Always wanting me to fill you up. Your pussy's all mine."

An increasing tension formed in your core again, ready to combust. You felt the pressure gradually work its way up your spine and to your brain, exploding throughout your body as the feeling rushed to your fingertips. You clutched Oikawa's hand, your legs trembling from overstimulation, experiencing your final orgasm for the night.

Instantly, you cried out Oikawa's name against the window wall, moaning at the top of your lungs. You felt him pick up the pace, ramming his hips repeatedly against your ass. His dick throbbed inside of you again, the ridges of his veins scratching up against the walls of your pussy.

"Tooru, I'm coming!" You screamed, throwing your head back to ease his arm's grip around your throat. A sudden rush of cold air infiltrated your lungs, experiencing a duality of senses throughout your body.

Your cheek pressed up against the cold touch of the window provided the perfect contrast to the rising temperature of your body, feeling hot and sweltered from the intensity. Oikawa removed his arm from your neck, grabbing onto your waist as he bucked his hips wildly against your ass.

He whispered sweet nothings into your ear before releasing a loud, vocal groan into your ear. You felt his dick twitch inside of you, depositing multiple loads of his cum deep within your pussy. Continuing to shove himself deeper into you, he guided your hips down on his, grinding your ass up against his dick.

You heard him breathe heavily behind you, slowly guiding your waist up and down his dick while your pussy exploited every last bit of his ejaculate. He reclined back, leaning on his hind legs as he watched his cum spill out of you, dripping an opaque white onto the oak flooring.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful." Oikawa praised, spreading your ass apart as he pulled out his cock coated in a mixture of his semen and your essence. He swiped two digits against your dripping pussy, collecting a large sample of his cum onto the tips of his fingers. From behind, Oikawa hooked them against the side of your cheek, smothering the liquid onto your tongue.

"Taste my cum, baby."

He released his grip on your body, removing his fingers from your mouth and your hip. Your hands collapsed to the ground as you swallowed a portion of his cum, feeling the viscosity of his ejaculate trickle down your esophagus. You breathed in deeply, lowering your head while looking down at the bustling traffic on the street.

Your heart was beating way too fast for your body to handle, feeling the pulse pound inside your head. The oak floor felt like it would cave in and collapse underneath you, unable to get a grip with your palms. No thoughts ran through your mind anymore, absolutely exhausted from everything that happened.

Oikawa touched your shoulders, sliding his hands underneath your arms to pull you up off the floor, stabilizing your body. When you were able to stand up on your feet again, your arms flung around his neck, slowly caressing the back of his head and intertwining your fingers with his brown locks. You rested your head on his shoulders, closing your eyes while he held you close.

"You need to rest," he traced his finger along your back, drawing small circles on your skin. Slowly, he pressed his lips against your shoulder, planting small kisses up your jaw and down your neck.

It was hard to keep your eyes open as Oikawa began to lead you to his bed, holding you up from falling over. The condo was still dark, no lights illuminating neither his room or the living area. Sooner or later, your head collided with the soft pillow on the right side of his bed, sliding yourself in between the cold white sheets.

Oikawa tucked you into the bed, pulling the blanket over your naked body. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, sinking straight into the comfort of the mattress, feeling your heartbeat begin to slow down.

You thought about the moments leading up before your encounter with Oikawa, turning your head over to face him.

"Why..." You mustered out quietly, lowering your voice. "Why don't you trust me?"

He caressed his right hand on your cheek, lowering himself to whisper in your ear. "Because I'm scared."

"What are you so afraid of that you can't trust me?" You slowly opened your eyes to Oikawa looking down at you with a solemn expression on his face, not a single muscle in his body moving. He didn't respond, only a harsh emptiness and a cold connection between you two residing in the atmosphere.

Perhaps ignorance was bliss as you desperately tried to find an answer of what he could have been so afraid of—yet all you saw was your own reflection in his eyes.

"I'm scared that you'll end up leaving me."

At that moment, you knew exactly what he reminded you of—a fallen angel, living in the depths of mankind's hell, desperately seeking for a heaven to reclaim.

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© hoeneymilktea 2024, I am protected by copyright. I do not give permission to translate or repost my works.

[deus-sema]

Having read these thought provoking posts in a row by @neyafromfrance95 and @anetherealpoetess , I racked my brain to remember when and how exactly did this drama over villain/heroine pairings start and how did it aggravate to such an extent?

But, before I begin, I want to get this out of the way: The intent of this post is not to generalize. Haters who hate everything fun without discrimination, those who aren't hypocrites, this post is not for you. You are the real deal. Hate and vent away and unless this hatred affects creators and fans adversely, which is when we would need to have serious conversations, we are good to go.

Where were we again? Yes. The heroine and the villain. The good girl and the bad guy. The M/F ship where the male character is not 100% morally upstanding and/or age appropriate. This dynamic goes by many names. Call it whatever you wish to.

Why this dynamic is enjoyed by many has been discussed often. Why it is disliked is also known. To each their own. Anyway, let's get straight to the point. This particular dynamic can result in the female character getting hurt at some point. Be it physically, mentally, or emotionally. It isn't mandatory but the possibility is always there. The villain/adversary with whom she shares a complicated entanglement that may or may not be 'officially' romantic is a challenge she must overcome. Be it by beating him, killing him, fixing him, smooching him or screwing him.

Preferences are one thing. But this vehement pushback specifically against stories that explore such a dynamic as well as against those who enjoy them is rather strange.

Now, why is it easier for some to separate fiction from reality when it comes to toxic m/m pairs as compared to similar m/f pairs? Aren't all these characters fake anyway? Maybe the belief that women are inherently fragile and, thus need to be protected and sheltered from any and all harm, genuine or perceived, still prevails. They aren't allowed to face so much as the slightest adversity or discomfort. They must be kept safe within the boundaries of propriety. If they are to have a partner then he must be a properly vetted 'green flag' who is safe for them in every aspect. Chemistry be damned. While it often stems from genuine, albeit misplaced, concern, it leaves the arcs of these female characters with limited scope.

Strangely enough, the characters in question can belong to any background: Human, demon, alien, witch, elf, warrior, zombie. Their natures might differ. They can all have different backstories, undergo varying experiences, follow rules and belief systems distinct from one another. But, when placed in an equation with a man who has been dubbed 'unsafe', they are all clubbed under one umbrella of victimhood. As long as the link between them and the unsafe male character exists, victims they must remain. Until that connection is severed and they are taken back to safety, all other identities cease to exist. Any conversation with respect to that equation must abritrarily categorize them as victim and the men as their victimizers and there should be nothing more to it. Not even if the narrative wills it. Fans who have different readings of the relationship are to be silenced with slutshaming, accusations of romanticizing abuse, not getting the plot, yada, yada. And, in certain cases, when the female character happens to be a WoC, her entire existence gets overlooked.

As a side effect of this approach, the  commercial creatives who are in the business for the paycheck and want to avoid unnecessary hassle, do not bother to put in effort or  undertake risks while creating female characters, let alone put them in a relationship with the bad guy. They know all it will take to calm the online pearl clutchers with pitchforks is to keep the female characters secure on the sidelines to play a supportive role leaving them free to focus and work hard on male characters who move the plot. The female characters are remembered only when the men have to be depicted in a better or worse light. Afterall, someone needs to be the scapegoat to help move the male character's arc forward.

The general audience, most of whom are in for the entertainment, must definitely notice the difference in importance that female characters hold as compared to their male counterparts but do not give it much thought. Meanwhile, in the online realm, puritantis and incels pat each other on the back after belittling real people who disagree with them for female characters in 'safe' and, possibly, passive roles is what both parties ultimately seek, albeit with different intentions. If a fictional woman doesn't toe the line, then the narrative is expected to set her right by 'humbling' her. As for the real ones deemed 'improper', the Internet is always ready with their pitchforks like we see here in this case highlighted by @problematic-faves-appreciation) concerning the Brontës.

Patriarchy truly is no different from the Hydra. Cut one head off and two more appear in its place wearing faux progressive hoodies.

[yamayuandadu]

Shikigami and onmyōdō through history: truth, fiction and everything in between

Abe no Seimei exorcising disease spirits (疫病神, yakubyōgami), as depicted in the Fudō Riyaku Engi Emaki. Two creatures who might be shikigami are visible in the bottom right corner (wikimedia commons; identification following Bernard Faure’s Rage and Ravage, pp. 57-58)

In popular culture, shikigami are basically synonymous with onmyōdō. Was this always the case, though? And what is a shikigami, anyway? These questions are surprisingly difficult to answer. I’ve been meaning to attempt to do so for a longer while, but other projects kept getting in the way. Under the cut, you will finally be able to learn all about this matter. 

This isn’t just a shikigami article, though. Since historical context is a must, I also provide a brief history of onmyōdō and some of its luminaries. You will also learn if there were female onmyōji, when stars and time periods turn into deities, what onmyōdō has to do with a tale in which Zhong Kui became a king of a certain city in India - and more!

The early days of onmyōdō In order to at least attempt to explain what the term shikigami might have originally entailed, I first need to briefly summarize the history of onmyōdō (陰陽道). This term can be translated as “way of yin and yang”, and at the core it was a Japanese adaptation of the concepts of, well, yin and yang, as well as the five elements. They reached Japan through Daoist and Buddhist sources. Daoism itself never really became a distinct religion in Japan, but onmyōdō is arguably among the most widespread adaptations of its principles in Japanese context.

Kibi no Makibi, as depicted by Yoshitoshi Tsukioka (wikimedia commons)

It’s not possible to speak of a singular founder of onmyōdō comparable to the patriarchs of Buddhist schools. Bernard Faure notes that in legends the role is sometimes assigned to Kibi no Makibi, an eighth century official who spent around 20 years in China. While he did bring many astronomical treatises with him when he returned, this is ultimately just a legend which developed long after he passed away.

In reality onmyōdō developed gradually starting with the sixth century, when Chinese methods of divination and treatises dealing with these topics first reached Japan. Early on Buddhist monks from the Korean kingdom of Baekje were the main sources of this knowledge. We know for example that the Soga clan employed such a specialist, a certain Gwalleuk (観勒; alternatively known under the Japanese reading of his name, Kanroku).

Obviously, divination was viewed as a very serious affair, so the imperial court aimed to regulate the continental techniques in some way. This was accomplished by emperor Tenmu with the formation of the onmyōryō (陰陽寮), “bureau of yin and yang” as a part of the ritsuryō system of governance. Much like in China, the need to control divination was driven by the fears that otherwise it would be used to legitimize courtly intrigues against the emperor, rebellions and other disturbances.  Officials taught and employed by onmyōryō were referred to as onmyōji (陰陽師). This term can be literally translated as  “yin-yang master���. In the Nara period, they were understood essentially as a class of public servants. Their position didn’t substantially differ from that of other specialists from the onmyōryō: calendar makers, officials responsible for proper measurement of time and astrologers. The topics they dealt with evidently weren’t well known among commoners, and they were simply typical members of the literate administrative elite of their times.

Onmyōdō in the Heian period: magic, charisma and nobility

The role of onmyōji changed in the Heian period. They retained the position of official bureaucratic diviners in employ of the court, but they also acquired new duties. The distinction between them and other onmyōryō officials became blurred. Additionally their activity extended to what was collectively referred to as jujutsu (呪術), something like “magic” though this does not fully reflect the nuances of this term. They presided over rainmaking rituals, purification ceremonies, so-called “earth quelling”, and establishing complex networks of temporal and directional taboos.

A Muromachi period depiction of Abe no Seimei (wikimedia commons)

The most famous historical onmyōji like Kamo no Yasunori and his student Abe no Seimei were active at a time when this version of onmyōdō was a fully formed - though obviously still evolving - set of practices and beliefs. In a way they represented a new approach, though - one in which personal charisma seemed to matter just as much, if not more, than official position. This change was recognized as a breakthrough by at least some of their contemporaries. For example, according to the diary of Minamoto no Tsuneyori, the Sakeiki (左經記), “in Japan, the foundations of onmyōdō were laid by Yasunori”.

The changes in part reflected the fact that onmyōji started to be privately contracted for various reasons by aristocrats, in addition to serving the state. Shin’ichi Shigeta notes that it essentially turned them from civil servants into tradespeople. However, he stresses they cannot be considered clergymen: their position was more comparable to that of physicians, and there is no indication they viewed their activities as a distinct religion. Indeed, we know of multiple Heian onmyōji, like Koremune no Fumitaka or Kamo no Ieyoshi, who by their own admission were devout Buddhists who just happened to work as professional diviners.

Shin’ichi Shigeta notes is evidence that in addition to the official, state-sanctioned onmyōji, “unlicensed” onmyōji who acted and dressed like Buddhist clergy, hōshi onmyōji (法師陰陽師) existed. The best known example is Ashiya Dōman, a mainstay of Seimei legends, but others are mentioned in diaries, including the famous Pillow Book. It seems nobles particularly commonly employed them to curse rivals. This was a sphere official onmyōji abstained from due to legal regulations. Curses were effectively considered crimes, and government officials only performed apotropaic rituals meant to protect from them. The Heian period version of onmyōdō captivated the imagination of writers and artists, and its slightly exaggerated version present in classic literature like Konjaku Monogatari is essentially what modern portrayals in fiction tend to go back to.

Medieval onmyōdō: from abstract concepts to deities

Gozu Tennō (wikimedia commons)

Further important developments occurred between the twelfth and fourteenth centuries. This period was the beginning of the Japanese “middle ages” which lasted all the way up to the establishment of the Tokugawa shogunate. The focus in onmyōdō in part shifted towards new, or at least reinvented, deities, such as calendarical spirits like Daishōgun (大将軍) and Ten’ichijin (天一神), personifications of astral bodies and concepts already crucial in earlier ceremonies. There was also an increased interest in Chinese cosmological figures like Pangu, reimagined in Japan as “king Banko”. However, the most famous example is arguably Gozu Tennō, who you might remember from my Susanoo article. 

The changes in medieval onmyōdō can be described as a process of convergence with esoteric Buddhism. The points of connection were rituals focused on astral and underworld deities, such as Taizan Fukun or Shimei (Chinese Siming). Parallels can be drawn between this phenomenon and the intersection between esoteric Buddhism and some Daoist schools in Tang China. Early signs of the development of a direct connection between onmyōdō and Buddhism can already be found in sources from the Heian period, for example Kamo no Yasunori remarked that he and other onmyōji depend on the same sources to gain proper understanding of ceremonies focused on the Big Dipper as Shingon monks do. 

Much of the information pertaining to the medieval form of onmyōdō is preserved in Hoki Naiden (ほき内伝; “Inner Tradition of the Square and the Round Offering Vessels”), a text which is part divination manual and part a collection of myths. According to tradition it was compiled by Abe no Seimei, though researchers generally date it to the fourteenth century. For what it’s worth, it does seem likely its author was a descendant of Seimei, though. Outside of specialized scholarship Hoki Naiden is fairly obscure today, but it’s worth noting that it was a major part of the popular perception of onmyōdō in the Edo period. A novel whose influence is still visible in the modern image of Seimei, Abe no Seimei Monogatari (安部晴明物語), essentially revolves around it, for instance.

Onmyōdō in the Edo period: occupational licensing

Novels aside, the first post-medieval major turning point for the history of onmyōdō was the recognition of the Tsuchimikado family as its official overseers in 1683. They were by no means new to the scene - onmyōji from this family already served the Ashikaga shoguns over 250 years earlier. On top of that, they were descendants of the earlier Abe family, the onmyōji par excellence. The change was not quite the Tsuchimikado’s rise, but rather the fact the government entrusted them with essentially regulating occupational licensing for all onmyōji, even those who in earlier periods existed outside of official administration.

As a result of the new policies, various freelance practitioners could, at least in theory, obtain a permit to perform the duties of an onmyōji. However, as the influence of the Tsuchimikado expanded, they also sought to oblige various specialists who would not be considered onmyōji otherwise to purchase licenses from them. Their aim was to essentially bring all forms of divination under their control. This extended to clergy like Buddhist monks, shugenja and shrine priests on one hand, and to various performers like members of kagura troupes on the other. 

Makoto Hayashi points out that while throughout history onmyōji has conventionally been considered a male occupation, it was possible for women to obtain licenses from the Tsuchimikado. Furthermore, there was no distinct term for female onmyōji, in contrast with how female counterparts of Buddhist monks, shrine priests and shugenja were referred to with different terms and had distinct roles defined by their gender. As far as I know there’s no earlier evidence for female onmyōji, though, so it’s safe to say their emergence had a lot to do with the specifics of the new system. It seems the poems of the daughter of Kamo no Yasunori (her own name is unknown) indicate she was familiar with yin-yang theory or at least more broadly with Chinese philosophy, but that’s a topic for a separate article (stay tuned), and it's not quite the same, obviously.

The Tsuchimikado didn’t aim to create a specific ideology or systems of beliefs. Therefore, individual onmyōji - or, to be more accurate, individual people with onmyōji licenses - in theory could pursue new ideas. This in some cases lead to controversies: for instance, some of the people involved in the (in)famous 1827 Osaka trial of alleged Christians (whether this label really is applicable is a matter of heated debate) were officially licensed onmyōji. Some of them did indeed possess translated books written by Portuguese missionaries, which obviously reflected Catholic outlook. However, Bernard Faure suggests that some of the Edo period onmyōji might have pursued Portuguese sources not strictly because of an interest in Catholicism but simply to obtain another source of astronomical knowledge. 

The legacy of onmyōdō 

In the Meiji period, onmyōdō was banned alongside shugendō. While the latter tradition experienced a revival in the second half of the twentieth century, the former for the most part didn’t. However, that doesn’t mean the history of onmyōdō ends once and for all in the second half of the nineteenth century. 

Even today in some parts of Japan there are local religious traditions which, while not identical with historical onmyōdō, retain a considerable degree of influence from it. An example often cited in scholarship is Izanagi-ryū (いざなぎ流) from the rural Monobe area in the Kōchi Prefecture. Mitsuki Ueno stresses that the occasional references to Izanagi-ryū as “modern onmyōdō” in literature from the 1990s and early 2000s are inaccurate, though. He points out they downplay the unique character of this tradition, and that it shows a variety of influences. Similar arguments have also been made regarding local traditions from the Chūgoku region.

Until relatively recently, in scholarship onmyōdō was basically ignored as superstition unworthy of serious inquiries. This changed in the final decades of the twentieth century, with growing focus on the Japanese middle ages among researchers. The first monographs on onmyōdō were published in the 1980s. While it’s not equally popular as a subject of research as esoteric Buddhism and shugendō, formerly neglected for similar reasons, it has nonetheless managed to become a mainstay of inquiries pertaining to the history of religion in Japan.

Yoshitaka Amano's illustration of Baku Yumemakura's fictionalized portrayal of Abe no Seimei (right) and other characters from his novels (reproduced here for educational purposes only)

Of course, it’s also impossible to talk about onmyōdō without mentioning the modern “onmyōdō boom”. Starting with the 1980s, onmyōdō once again became a relatively popular topic among writers. Novel series such as Baku Yumemakura’s Onmyōji, Hiroshi Aramata’s Teito Monogatari or Natsuhiko Kyōgoku’s Kyōgōkudō and their adaptations in other media once again popularized it among general audiences. Of course, since these are fantasy or mystery novels, their historical accuracy tends to vary (Yumemakura in particular is reasonably faithful to historical literature, though). Still, they have a lasting impact which would be impossible to accomplish with scholarship alone.

Shikigami: historical truth, historical fiction, or both?

You might have noticed that despite promising a history of shikigami, I haven’t used this term even once through the entire crash course in history of onmyōdō. This was a conscious choice. Shikigami do not appear in any onmyōdō texts, even though they are a mainstay of texts about onmyōdō, and especially of modern literature involving onmyōji.

It would be unfair to say shikigami and their prominence are merely a modern misconception, though. Virtually all of the famous legends about onmyōji feature shikigami, starting with the earliest examples from the eleventh century. Based on Konjaku Monogatari, there evidently was a fascination with shikigami at the time of its compilation. Fujiwara no Akihira in the Shinsarugakuki treats the control of shikigami as an essential skill of an onmyōji, alongside the abilities to “freely summon the twelve guardian deities, call thirty-six types of wild birds (...), create spells and talismans, open and close the eyes of kijin (鬼神; “demon gods”), and manipulate human souls”. 

It is generally agreed that such accounts, even though they belong to the realm of literary fiction, can shed light on the nature and importance of shikigami. They ultimately reflect their historical context to some degree. Furthermore, it is not impossible that popular understanding of shikigami based on literary texts influenced genuine onmyōdō tradition. It’s worth pointing out that today legends about Abe no Seimei involving them are disseminated by two contemporary shrines dedicated to him, the Seimei Shrine (晴明神社) in Kyoto and the Abe no Seimei Shrine (安倍晴明神社) in Osaka. Interconnected networks of exchange between literature and religious practice are hardly a unique or modern phenomenon. 

However, even with possible evidence from historical literature taken into account, it is not easy to define shikigami. The word itself can be written in three different ways: 式神 (or just 式), 識神 and 職神, with the first being the default option. The descriptions are even more varied, which understandably lead to the rise of numerous interpretations in modern scholarship. Carolyn Pang in her recent treatments of shikigami, which you can find in the bibliography, has recently divided them into five categories. I will follow her classification below.

Shikigami take 1: rikujin-shikisen

An example of shikiban, the divination board used in rikujin-shikisen (Museum of Kyoto, via onmarkproductions.com; reproduced here for educational purposes only)

A common view is that shikigami originate as a symbolic representation of the power of shikisen (式占) or more specifically rikujin-shikisen (六壬式占), the most common form of divination in onmyōdō. It developed from Chinese divination methods in the Nara period, and remained in the vogue all the way up to the sixteenth century, when it was replaced by ekisen (易占), a method derived from the Chinese Book of Changes.

Shikisen required a special divination board known as shikiban (式盤), which consists of a square base, the “earth panel” (地盤, jiban), and a rotating circle placed on top of it, the “heaven panel” (天盤, tenban). The former was marked with twelve points representing the signs of the zodiac and the latter with representations of the “twelve guardians of the months” (十二月将, jūni-gatsushō; their identity is not well defined). The heaven panel had to be rotated, and the diviner had to interpret what the resulting combination of symbols represents. Most commonly, it was treated as an indication whether an unusual phenomenon (怪/恠, ke) had positive or negative implications. It’s worth pointing out that in the middle ages the shikiban also came to be used in some esoteric Buddhist rituals, chiefly these focused on Dakiniten, Shōten and Nyoirin Kannon. However, they were only performed between the late Heian and Muromachi periods, and relatively little is known about them. In most cases the divination board was most likely modified to reference the appropriate esoteric deities.

Shikigami take 2: cognitive abilities

While the view that shikigami represented shikisen is strengthened by the fact both terms share the kanji 式, a variant writing, 識神, lead to the development of another proposal. Since the basic meaning of 識 is “consciousness”, it is sometimes argued that shikigami were originally an “anthropomorphic realization of the active psychological or mental state”, as Caroline Pang put it - essentially, a representation of the will of an onmyōji. Most of the potential evidence in this case comes from Buddhist texts, such as Bosatsushotaikyō (菩薩処胎経). 

However, Bernard Faure assumes that the writing 識神 was a secondary reinterpretation, basically a wordplay based on homonymy. He points out the Buddhist sources treat this writing of shikigami as a synonym of kushōjin (倶生神). This term can be literally translated as “deities born at the same time”. Most commonly it designates a pair of minor deities who, as their name indicates, come into existence when a person is born, and then records their deeds through their entire life. Once the time for Enma’s judgment after death comes, they present him with their compiled records. It has been argued that they essentially function like a personification of conscience. 

Shikigami take 3: energy

A further speculative interpretation of shikigami in scholarship is that this term was understood as a type of energy present in objects or living beings which onmyōji were believed to be capable of drawing out and harnessing to their ends. This could be an adaptation of the Daoist notion of qi (氣). If this definition is correct, pieces of paper or wooden instruments used in purification ceremonies might be examples of objects utilized to channel shikigami. 

The interpretation of shikigami as a form of energy is possibly reflected in Konjaku Monogatari in the tale The Tutelage of Abe no Seimei under Tadayuki. It revolves around Abe no Seimei’s visit to the house of the Buddhist monk Kuwanten from Hirosawa. Another of his guests asks Seimei if he is capable of killing a person with his powers, and if he possesses shikigami. He affirms that this is possible, but makes it clear that it is not an easy task. Since the guests keep urging him to demonstrate nonetheless, he promptly demonstrates it using a blade of grass. Once it falls on a frog, the animal is instantly crushed to death. From the same tale we learn that Seimei’s control over shikigami also let him remotely close the doors and shutters in his house while nobody was inside.

Shikigami take 4: curse As I already mentioned, arts which can be broadly described as magic - like the already mentioned jujutsu or juhō (呪法, “magic rituals”) - were regarded as a core part of onmyōji’s repertoire from the Heian period onward. On top of that, the unlicensed onmyōji were almost exclusively associated with curses. Therefore, it probably won’t surprise you to learn that yet another theory suggests shikigami is simply a term for spells, curses or both. A possible example can be found in Konjaku Monogatari, in the tale Seimei sealing the young Archivist Minor Captains curse - the eponymous curse, which Seimei overcomes with protective rituals, is described as a shikigami.

Kunisuda Utagawa's illustration of an actor portraying Dōman in a kabuki play (wikimedia commons)

Similarities between certain descriptions of shikigami and practices such as  fuko (巫蠱) and goraihō (五雷法) have been pointed out. Both of these originate in China. Fuko is the use of poisonous, venomous or otherwise negatively perceived animals to create curses, typically by putting them in jars, while goraihō is the Japanese version of Daoist spells meant to control supernatural beings, typically ghosts or foxes. It’s worth noting that a legend according to which Dōman cursed Fujiwara no Michinaga on behalf of lord Horikawa (Fujiwara no Akimitsu) involves him placing the curse - which is itself not described in detail -  inside a jar.

Mitsuki Ueno notes that in the Kōchi Prefecture the phrase shiki wo utsu, “to strike with a shiki”, is still used to refer to cursing someone. However, shiki does not necessarily refer to shikigami in this context, but rather to a related but distinct concept - more on that later.

Shikigami take 5: supernatural being

While all four definitions I went through have their proponents, yet another option is by far the most common - the notion of shikigami being supernatural beings controlled by an onmyōji. This is essentially the standard understanding of the term today among general audiences. Sometimes attempts are made to identify it with a specific category of supernatural beings, like spirits (精霊, seirei), kijin or lesser deities (下級神, kakyū shin). However, none of these gained universal support. Generally speaking, there is no strong indication that shikigami were necessarily imagined as individualized beings with distinct traits.

The notion of shikigami being supernatural beings is not just a modern interpretation, though, for the sake of clarity. An early example where the term is unambiguously used this way is a tale from Ōkagami in which Seimei sends a nondescript shikigami to gather information. The entity, who is not described in detail, possesses supernatural skills, but simultaneously still needs to open doors and physically travel. 

An illustration from Nakifudō Engi Emaki (wikimedia commons)

In Genpei Jōsuiki there is a reference to Seimei’s shikigami having a terrifying appearance which unnerved his wife so much he had to order the entities to hide under a bride instead of residing in his house. Carolyn Pang suggests that this reflects the demon-like depictions from works such as Abe no Seimei-kō Gazō (安倍晴明公画像; you can see it in the Heian section), Fudōriyaku Engi Emaki and Nakifudō Engi Emaki.

Shikigami and related concepts

A gohō dōji, as depicted in the Shigisan Engi Emaki (wikimedia commons)

The understanding of shikigami as a “spirit servant” of sorts can be compared with the Buddhist concept of minor protective deities, gohō dōji (護法童子;  literally “dharma-protecting lads”). These in turn were just one example of the broad category of gohō (護法), which could be applied to virtually any deity with protective qualities, like the historical Buddha’s defender Vajrapāṇi or the Four Heavenly Kings. A notable difference between shikigami and gohō is the fact that the former generally required active summoning - through chanting spells and using mudras - while the latter manifested on their own in order to protect the pious. Granted, there are exceptions. There is a well attested legend according to which Abe no Seimei’s shikigami continued to protect his residence on own accord even after he passed away. Shikigami acting on their own are also mentioned in Zoku Kojidan (続古事談). It attributes the political downfall of Minamoto no Takaakira (源高明; 914–98) to his encounter with two shikigami who were left behind after the onmyōji who originally summoned them forgot about them.

A degree of overlap between various classes of supernatural helpers is evident in texts which refer to specific Buddhist figures as shikigami. I already brought up the case of the kushōjin earlier. Another good example is the Tendai monk Kōshū’s (光宗; 1276–1350) description of Oto Gohō (乙護法). He is “a shikigami that follows us like the shadow follows the body. Day or night, he never withdraws; he is the shikigami that protects us” (translation by Bernard Faure). This description is essentially a reversal of the relatively common title “demon who constantly follow beings” (常随魔, jōzuima). It was applied to figures such as Kōjin, Shōten or Matarajin, who were constantly waiting for a chance to obstruct rebirth in a pure land if not placated properly.

The Twelve Heavenly Generals (Tokyo National Museum, via wikimedia commons)

A well attested group of gohō, the Twelve Heavenly Generals (十二神将, jūni shinshō), and especially their leader Konpira (who you might remember from my previous article), could be labeled as shikigami. However, Fujiwara no Akihira’s description of onmyōji skills evidently presents them as two distinct classes of beings.

A kuda-gitsune, as depicted in Shōzan Chomon Kishū by Miyoshi Shōzan (Waseda University History Museum; reproduced here for educational purposes only)

Granted, Akihira also makes it clear that controlling shikigami and animals are two separate skills. Meanwhile, there is evidence that in some cases animal familiars, especially kuda-gitsune used by iizuna (a term referring to shugenja associated with the cult of, nomen omen, Iizuna Gongen, though more broadly also something along the lines of “sorcerer”), were perceived as shikigami.

Beliefs pertaining to gohō dōji and shikigami seemingly merged in Izanagi-ryū, which lead to the rise of the notion of shikiōji (式王子; ōji, literally “prince”, can be another term for gohō dōji). This term refers to supernatural beings summoned by a ritual specialist (祈祷師, kitōshi) using a special formula from doctrinal texts (法文, hōmon). They can fulfill various functions, though most commonly they are invoked to protect a person, to remove supernatural sources of diseases, to counter the influence of another shikiōji or in relation to curses.

Tenkeisei, the god of shikigami

Tenkeisei (wikimedia commons)

The final matter which warrants some discussion is the unusual tradition regarding the origin of shikigami which revolves around a deity associated with this concept. 

In the middle ages, a belief that there were exactly eighty four thousand shikigami developed. Their source was the god Tenkeisei (天刑星; also known as Tengyōshō). His name is the Japanese reading of Chinese Tianxingxing. It can be translated as “star of heavenly punishment”. This name fairly accurately explains his character. He was regarded as one of the so-called “baleful stars” (凶星, xiong xing) capable of controlling destiny. The “punishment” his name refers to is his treatment of disease demons (疫鬼, ekiki). However, he could punish humans too if not worshiped properly.

Today Tenkeisei is best known as one of the deities depicted in a series of paintings known as Extermination of Evil, dated to the end of the twelfth century. He has the appearance of a fairly standard multi-armed Buddhist deity. The anonymous painter added a darkly humorous touch by depicting him right as he dips one of the defeated demons in vinegar before eating him. Curiously, his adversaries are said to be Gozu Tennō and his retinue in the accompanying text. This, as you will quickly learn, is a rather unusual portrayal of the relationship between these two deities.

I’m actually not aware of any other depictions of Tenkeisei than the painting you can see above. Katja Triplett notes that onmyōdō rituals associated with him were likely surrounded by an aura of secrecy, and as a result most depictions of him were likely lost or destroyed. At the same time, it seems Tenkeisei enjoyed considerable popularity through the Kamakura period. This is not actually paradoxical when you take the historical context into account: as I outlined in my recent Amaterasu article, certain categories of knowledge were labeled as secret not to make their dissemination forbidden, but to imbue them with more meaning and value.

Numerous talismans inscribed with Tenkeisei’s name are known. Furthermore, manuals of rituals focused on him have been discovered. The best known of them, Tenkeisei-hō (天刑星法; “Tenkeisei rituals”), focuses on an abisha (阿尾捨, from Sanskrit āveśa), a ritual involving possession by the invoked deity. According to a legend was transmitted by Kibi no Makibi and Kamo no Yasunori. The historicity of this claim is doubtful, though: the legend has Kamo no Yasunori visit China, which he never did. Most likely mentioning him and Makibi was just a way to provide the text with additional legitimacy.

Other examples of similar Tenkeisei manuals include Tenkeisei Gyōhō (天刑星行法; “Methods of Tenkeisei Practice”) and Tenkeisei Gyōhō Shidai (天刑星行法次第; “Methods of Procedure for the Tenkeisei Practice”). Copies of these texts have been preserved in the Shingon temple Kōzan-ji.

The Hoki Naiden also mentions Tenkeisei. It equates him with Gozu Tennō, and explains both of these names refer to the same deity, Shōki (商貴), respectively in heaven and on earth. While Shōki is an adaptation of the famous Zhong Kui, it needs to be pointed out that here he is described not as a Tang period physician but as an ancient king of Rajgir in India. Furthermore, he is a yaksha, not a human. This fairly unique reinterpretation is also known from the historical treatise Genkō Shakusho. Post scriptum The goal of this article was never to define shikigami. In the light of modern scholarship, it’s basically impossible to provide a single definition in the first place. My aim was different: to illustrate that context is vital when it comes to understanding obscure historical terms. Through history, shikigami evidently meant slightly different things to different people, as reflected in literature. However, this meaning was nonetheless consistently rooted in the evolving perception of onmyōdō - and its internal changes. In other words, it reflected a world which was fundamentally alive. The popular image of Japanese culture and religion is often that of an artificial, unchanging landscape straight from the “age of the gods”, largely invented in the nineteenth century or later to further less than noble goals. The case of shikigami proves it doesn’t need to be, though. The malleable, ever-changing image of shikigami, which remained a subject of popular speculation for centuries before reemerging in a similar role in modern times, proves that the more complex reality isn’t necessarily any less interesting to new audiences.

Bibliography

Bernard Faure, A Religion in Search of a Founder?

Idem, Rage and Ravage (Gods of Medieval Japan vol. 3)

Makoto Hayashi, The Female Christian Yin-Yang Master

Jun’ichi Koike, Onmyōdō and Folkloric Culture: Three Perspectives for the Development of Research

Irene H. Lin, Child Guardian Spirits (Gohō Dōji) in the Medieval Japanese Imaginaire

Yoshifumi Nishioka, Aspects of Shikiban-Based Mikkyō Rituals

Herman Ooms, Yin-Yang's Changing Clientele, 600-800 (note there is n apparent mistake in one of the footnotes, I'm pretty sure the author wanted to write Mesopotamian astronomy originated 4000 years ago, not 4 millenia BCE as he did; the latter date makes little sense)

Carolyn Pang, Spirit Servant: Narratives of Shikigami and Onmyōdō Developments

Idem, Uncovering Shikigami. The Search for the Spirit Servant of Onmyōdō

Shin’ichi Shigeta, Onmyōdō and the Aristocratic Culture of Everyday Life in Heian Japan

Idem, A Portrait of Abe no Seimei

Katja Triplett, Putting a Face on the Pathogen and Its Nemesis. Images of Tenkeisei and Gozutennō, Epidemic-Related Demons and Gods in Medieval Japan

Mitsuki Umeno, The Origins of the Izanagi-ryū Ritual Techniques: On the Basis of the Izanagi saimon

Katsuaki Yamashita, The Characteristics of On'yōdō and Related Texts

[mrhaitch]

Harry Potter and the Language of Power

[Someone asked so you're all in danger.]

“It matters what matters we use to think other matters with; it matters what stories we tell to tell other stories with; it matters what knots knot knots, what thoughts think thoughts, what descriptions describe descriptions, what ties tie ties. It matters what stories make worlds, what worlds make stories.” - Donna J. Haraway

As you can guess I've got some thoughts about Harry Potter, and this largely going to be a brief discussion about magical systems within fantasy, and how they can be viewed through a political lens. Are we ready? Not yet you're not.

Below is a video of M Nourbese Phillips giving a reading of her poem "Discourse on the Logic of Language". It's about seven minutes long and it's a poem I used to teach, and in fact a lot of what I'm going to say comes from one particular class I taught about a year and a half ago. Go ahead and watch it, I'll wait.

Amazing, right?

The central idea of that poem is that language can shape and determine our social realities. The loss of a language can further a community's alienation, feelings of 'separateness' and even dehumanize them. Or, to play on that Haraway quote at the top there, it matters what languages we use to communicate. It also matters, within fantasy, who has magic, and who doesn't - how magic is taught, passed down, enhanced, developed, used, and activated.

Fantasy and magic go hand in hand, with the latter being a staple of the former - you might almost be tempted to call it a cliche, but it's as essential to the functioning of a fantasy narrative as the presence of electricity to science fiction. It is often the very thing that makes the world turn, and can often be used - sometimes deliberately - to articulate an idea of who has power, or even who should have power.

Just touching on the broad strokes, magic is frequently viewed in an academic context and taught much like any other form of knowledge - at school - with practitioners assuming the guise of academics. In other narratives characters arrive at magical prowess by making pacts, deals, and agreements with entities whose own power arises from their connection to or part of the supernatural order of the world (gods, spirits, fairies, etc.). Now I hope I'm not stepping on anyone's toes when I say that pre-1990 these magic practitioners who typically white cishet men of a typically European persuasion - with the notable exception of Le Guin's Earthsea books, although the protagonists ethnicity rarely survives the adaptation process. There's been a distinct shift in recent years, most noticeably since NK Jemisin's Inheritance Trilogy which laid the connections between magic and power bare, by building a world where magic rests entirely in the hands of a single royal family who participated in the enslaving and slaughter of the gods.

With me so far? God, I hope so.

So let's talk about Harry Potter, a series increasingly maligned for its tone deaf portrayal of race, and its author's increasingly unhinged behaviour - which I won't touch on, others have done a far better job. Instead let's look at the magic.

It's all fairly straightforward: you have a magic tree branch that's bonded to you, prescribed movements of the hand and wrist, and then there's the magic words - which are Latin. Latin holds an interesting place in the western world, both politically and culturally, seeing as its native culture more or less fell apart just under a thousand years ago but has persisted as the lingua franca of power in Europe, especially in Britain. We can largely thank the Catholic Church for that, but a considerable hat-tip to Petrarch and the renaissance for its later revival - particularly the reintroduction of Ancient Greek and Latin to secular political life. Its grammatical rules were later deliberately applied to English in the 16th century, in an effort to centralise the language and diminish and discard regional dialect.

Latin also holds a distinct place in British political life - as it is largely the domain of the upper classes, outside of the medical and legal professions, being taught in only the most exclusive of public schools. Since 1900 there have been 25 Prime Ministers, of which 6 attended Eton college, with a further 11 attending some form of privately funded highschool and 14 receiving their degrees at Oxford. That's not even touching the slew of ministers and members of parliament who have passed through similar institutions of which there are many. Latin and Ancient Greek have been a central part of the public schooling system in Britain since their inception, partially due to its prevalence prior to mass-printing and the push towards using the languages people actually speak for the written word (a decision which, in the early days, could attract a heavy amount of censure, if not execution). It's persistence into our current age, and the exclusive nature of the schools that still teach it, has earned it the reputation of being the language of the ruling classes in Britain.

Using it as a magical language brings some interesting, if not concerning, connotations. I will be charitable and assume this wasn't intentional, but taken in the broader context of wizarding society as a whole and it's relationship with the larger world it contributes to a reading of Harry Potter through the lens of social and political class.

We have a small, naturally gifted, separate society housed within our own who are privy to the innermost workings and closely guarded secrets of our world. They possess godlike powers capable of altering the physical makeup and laws of our world to suit their whims, and they use Latin to do so. There's also evidence, in the later books, of a relationship between their government and ours - where the Ministry of Magic assume the role of shadowy advisors or, even, puppeteers. While this isn't explicitly stated in the books, it's a small stretch of the imagination to believe that in a partnership whichever member can kill the other with a word is steering the ship.

What this all amounts to, in my mind, is a restating of class divisions within the UK. There's no critical element, no serious engagement, let alone metamorphosis - this is a direct transplant informed by an author's preconceived notions about how the world does and, potentially, should work.

Much of this has been coloured and affected by my interpretation of Rowling's politics, and I make no excuses for that.

Does this answer your question?

[noisytenant]

i think it would be too simplistic to say that kinnie shit is the main reason the system zeitgeist is really detached from the literature (especially when some literature IS frequently cited), but i do think that fictional introjects--a documented and completely understandable phenomenon--trying to wed themselves to their sources of inspiration rather than articulating themselves in the real world is a canary in the coalmine for a lot of the other maladaptive patterns we end up seeing.

you could make the case that dissociation is an extreme form of "escape from the self"; to be one person is so intolerable that you escape to another. And then another, and another. so escapism is arguably the driving mode of dissociation.

but if you have these parts of yourself that long to escape BACK to, essentially, a "pre-birth" state, who can't bear to accept the circumstances they're in now, then you're probably more broadly still in an escapist paradigm. and so of course you're gonna be splitting new guys weekly, of course none of you communicate, of course you have these strong and extreme wedges between you and the others and you have these clearly defined boundaries while also, in practice, existing in such a limited context that you haven't really self-actualized.

escapism is an understandable reaction to trauma and severe chronic stress, so rather than dismissing this entire kinnie-system phenomenon as doomed, i think we can build bridges toward an understanding of Living As A System that are more aligned with established and successful therapeutic interventions.

the kinnie-system combo melds two subcultures that magnify maladaptive escapism tenfold. this adds new terminology and points of focus that aren't necessarily relevant or accurate (distinct and discrete identities and roles, "fictive" and "factive" language, source material focus, generally Online behavior and interests), and obscures other experiences (lack of clear identity, blending and blurring, dissociation as a coping mechanism for the stresses of tangible daily life, introjection as a start&not an end) and strategies (expanding the window of tolerance, grounding in the present, unburdening of extreme roles, intra-system cooperation, etc.)

i think as you work toward a grounded view of yourself and accept your reality, you can start to hold yourself more proudly, and own your experiences--even the bizarre one of essentially being a cartoon character ejected from the screen to do dishes.

dissociation is mushy, highly individual, and weird, but also a really practical solution to an impossibly difficult problem. i'd like it if we could change the common vocabulary and perspective to better reflect the diverse and unique experiences of finding a way to live When Guys.

[roxannepolice]

This may be stretching the concept of work's intent and possibly conflating it with reader's intent, but I think if you scratch to the absolute bottom of chameleon arch in s3 the ultimate difference between the Doctor and the Master becomes being people oriented vs. goal oriented. Like, if you go beyond the question of "could the Doctor have been something of a bad person* and the Master a good person", and ask "under what circumstances would they be like this", it looks like the Doctor - or, what aside from a body (with all its mind-indepented memories) was left of them in John Smith - was. well. being oriented towards people around him. And. that's what had One go from crotchety man willing to kill over his secrets or even a freaking lighter into the Doctor that is. Meeting all those wonderful companions, starting from Ian and Barbara that would just tell him fuck off you're crossing a line and I will not have it. And no, I don't think it's a matter of "wanting to be liked", but rather seeing "oh my Omega, I actually hurt this person". And in the main story that worked out for good, and in fact I would say that when it comes to "origins of morality" and "how to live" questions, that is the more reliable way to go! But when that same mindset is surrounded by all the bigotry - as well as just living a nice life as it is provided to you! - of edwardian era, it results in... well, obviously, the way to deal with those evil guys is to FITE! and this is what all those teenage boys have been trained to do, should the need call (ah, the hanging cloud of knowledge a need will in fact call them so soon in this two-parter...)! And this... competent. but ultimately underdeveloped through no fault of her own maid needs to just have the distinction between fiction and reality explained to her, the poor thing probably thinks the invention of writing is only to be used for things that are absolutely true... Yeah, punch him.

I use the term "goal-oriented" for the Master, but I suppose I should clarify, because we all know that if it was pure goal-orientation, then there are infinitely easier ways to take over the world that *checks notes* man-eating sofas. Yes, the Master is absolutely into over-convoluted plans to the point where they become a goal in itself. But what I mean is, no, they can't just hang around seeing the universe, they need a goal to achieve, there has to be a point to all this, and survival and power are arguably the two most basic goals there can be, once you scratch happiness as a bit too indefinite. And obviously, that's the exact opposite of "how to live". In many ways its a much more animalistic and base motivation than anything a conscious mind might want. Kind of existence vs. life distinction. BUT? In those last few decades of universe's existence??? Where there is literally no other goal left than survival? Not necessarily your own survival, but rather survival as an abstract concept, survival of ANYTHING? That mindset, combined with brains, makes you the most wonderful person that could possibly be! You're there, doggedly pursuing the only goal left in the universe, putting all of the resources you have left, MAKING ADVANCED TECHNOLOGY OUT OF FREAKING FOOD, and if anyone has any shot at surviving it is indeed thanks to you! There are two apparent contradiction to this (as of course there have to be in a story that's honest and not just making a point). The first is Yana keeping up the hopes of other people even while knowing it's likely false, and the second is him being willing to sacrifice himself so others will reach Utopia. But if you think about it. Both of these things are, in a way, utilitarian. Yes, hope is often framed as the ultimate irrational ideal, but once it's gone from everyone else, then... what is there to do? That's the end to the only goal left. So long as others hope you can get them out, you can go on tinkering just in bloody case. And while giving up your life for others tends to be framed as the ultimate act of good... there's a level at which Yana just freaking calucates himself as the easiest to expend. He's old and tired. The people who managed to reach the silo are either children or young and strong, there's a lot ahead of them. This is cynical and absolutely not the perspective to hold. But. at the end of the universe. This cynicism leads to sacrifice.

THAT IS NOT SAY YANA ISN'T JUST PLAIN NICE AND SHOWING MORE CONSIDERATION FOR OTHER'S FEELINGS THAN THE MASTER IN ANY FORMAT EVER DID! But I suppose when you're goal-oriented and everyone around you literally has no other goals than yours... why not just be kind** indeed?

Yes, there's a great tensimm fanfic about this:

*I admit I think one of the most interesting aspects of John Smith was precisely making him not a good person but hardly the worst man there ever was maybe it's because I've read edwardian era books that makes me think his paternalisation of Martha really wasn't the worst way for a white man to treat a poc even without outright violence. But if he was a really good person then that would just tell you making him give up his existence was bad because he's a good person whereas as it is the question is what makes the subjectively real existence of this particular not very good but not really worse than millions of people like him man that devloped subjectively very real bonds with others more expendable than any other's?

** Gosh my mixed feeling for Twelve, like I love him, he's up there with 2,3,4 and 10 as character-defining for me, but why just why have him always turn out to be ultimately right about his absolute morals, he's kind of the antithesis to time lord victorious, so long as you do the kind thing then there's always an unforeseen ex machina to prove you right, you'll never fuck up REAL bad, a real dilemma is not between making the choice that's subjectively or objectively good, it's between two objectively bad choices once again Simm!Master fell where he stood no less than Twelve.

[oillydiya]

Things Between Us | Cillian Murphy x OC

Chapter 13 : Mine Alone!

Warnings: This fic contains explicit content related to sexuality and various age relationships. The content is not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. *The entire story is a work of fiction. All characters, time periods, and places in the story are purely imaginary.

"Damn!" Sansa jolted awake in the bathtub.

“Oh my! How long did I accidentally fall asleep here?" she mumbled, disoriented.

Sansa felt exceptionally drained today. It had been several nights since she had a proper rest, primarily due to the exhibition stress. Coming back from the gallery today, she was so tired that she dozed off unintentionally. Now, stepping out of the bathroom, she went straight to her phone. The screen showed five missed calls and two texts.

"What are you doing? - Cillian"

"Can you please pick up? - Cillian"

Then, another message popped up, "I’m waiting outside your apartment - Cillian."

Sansa immediately called Cillian back, and indeed, he was waiting for her downstairs. "Damn it! I shouldn’t have fallen asleep," she scolded herself, feeling guilty for not answering his calls and making him wait. Quickly throwing on some clothes, she rushed down to meet him.

Descending to the lobby, she saw Cillian waiting for her already. He appeared significantly drunk, his face flushed, eyes half-closed, and the distinct smell of beer emanating from him. Cillian's expression was troubled, to say the least.

On the elevator ride up, he said nothing to her. Sansa noticed Cillian seemed unusually anxious, as if he was in a hurry to get to the apartment. Ding! The elevator doors opened, and Cillian rushed into her apartment, heading straight to check every nook and cranny—the bathroom, the dressing room, seeming to search for something or someone.

"What are you doing?" Sansa asked, puzzled and alarmed by his behavior.

"That bastard! Where is he? Where?" He shouted, anger in his voice.

Sansa was taken aback by his tone and demeanor, "What are you talking about? I don't understand," she furrowed her brows in confusion.

"Him! The French guy you met today. You were with him, weren't you? That's why you didn't answer my calls!" He ranted, walking around frantically as if he'd lost his senses. "Where is he? Where have you hidden him!" He repeated, approaching Sansa. He grabbed her arm, shaking her. Sansa was shocked by his actions and the force of his grip caused her pain.

“Cill, stop! You're hurting me!" Tears welled up in her eyes. In that moment, as if snapping back to reality, Cillian's expression softened, and he quickly released her arm.

"I'm sorry, I'm really sorry," Cillian repeated, his voice quivering as if he were on the verge of tears. He embraced her, resting his face on her shoulder, deeply regretting his actions just moments before. Sansa was initially shocked by the turn of events and struggled to grasp what was happening. 'What's going on?' she wondered, feeling bewildered.

Once she collected herself, she guided Cillian to sit with her at the counter bar to talk.

"Calm down, Cill, you're drunk," she told him, gently touching his cheek to soothe him.

"I didn't answer your calls because I accidentally fell asleep in the bathtub. There's nothing to worry about. Why would you think I was with someone else?" Sansa explained the truth, hoping to calm him down.

"I'm sorry, are you hurt?" Cillian asked, taking her hand, carefully inspecting her arm for any harm his earlier actions might have caused.

"I thought...you were with someone else," Cillian admitted with a heavy heart. "They kept talking, and I got scared."

Sansa frowned, confused. "Who was talking?" She asked, trying to understand. 

Cillian didn't respond to the question. He slid his arm around, pulling Sansa to sit down on the chair. Both of his hands touched Sansa's face gently. He used his fingertips to touch from the forehead, down to the eyebrows, passing the nose, and trailing down to her soft, delicate lips.

"This is mine," his husky voice spoke lowly, echoing into her ears seductively. Cillian leaned in to kiss the person in front of him. . Sansa thought this kiss wasn't like all the others before. It was filled with a strong pressing and sucking. It felt as though he was sucking as if afraid her lips would disappear somewhere. Cillian put his tongue in and out, swirling around her mouth. He licked down her neck, the man deeply inhales the scent of her neck to ease his longing. Cillian knelt down, his face between her chest curves. He began to touch and massage both of Sansa's breasts. He squeezed and fondled them with a horny face, his ocean blue eyes peering deeply into hers.

"This is mine," Cillian shifted his body, pressing his lips softly, tracing his tongue around Sansa's nipple like a toddler.

He was possessive of her! Damn it! Sansa gasped. She had completely forgotten all the unpleasant feelings she had experienced previously. They were now replaced by the overwhelming desire that Cillian instigated, as he licked two beads on her chest.

Cillian began to shift his tongue's movements from her chest down to her flat, smooth stomach. He licked around her waist before descending further down towards the softly rising mound. He separated and spread her trembling legs apart. Cillian lifted two fingers and offered them for Sansa to lick. She pressed his two fingers into her mouth eagerly and hungrily. She sucked, licked, and worshipped the two fingers passionately, immersing herself in the belief that it was his dick!

"Cill!" a loud moan come up as the wet fingers from her mouth were slid into her pussy. He began to move his two wet fingers, pressing into the soft, tiny hole. Slipping in and out until her juices nearly gushed out. It was so intense that her mind blanked out."

"This is mine, mine alone." He raised his head and said. Before flicking his tongue, and licking the drop of sweetness around her love hole. He sucked and fucked her hard with his fingers and tongue. She don't know why...the more Cillian became possessive of her, Sansa only felt more and more excited! Sansa now clearly understands what it feels like to have sex after a fight. It was a mix of hunger, yearning, and every forceful impact, filled with a desire to tear someone apart, not in pain but with hot passion and love. Cillian's intoxication escalated, and his sexual dominance grew fiercer. Sansa felt like he was arousing him the entire time he penetrated her.

Cillian gazed intently at the beautiful face before him. The woman lifted her face, her eyes meeting his. Her eyebrows arched slightly, puzzled by the intensity of his stare, unable to decipher his thoughts.

"You belong to me. You're my possession, and no one else can touch what's mine," he said as he putted his dick into her pussy. If it's during normal times Sansa probably doesn't like what Cillian treats like she's an object. But when he said it during sex like this, dammit! It was a whole other level. It's like she’s slipping into another dimension! Now her brain is racing far away while her pussy shakes wildly from within and the squeezing and twitching that make Cillian cum! Her pussy clenching Cillian dick so tight that he could feel his veins beating with his heart. Thump..thump.

“Fuck! I can't hold it anymore!”

After a moment of exhaustion, the two collapsed onto the bed, embracing tightly. Cillian caressed and stroked, his arms enveloping the person on his chest. He breathed in Sansa's scent, not wanting to let her even a centimeter away from him.

"This Sunday, you're coming to New York with me," Cillian whispered to Sansa while gently stroking her cheek. "Are you talking about this upcoming Sunday?" she asked.

"Yes, I have a movie promotion there. I miss you and don’t want to be apart from you... Please come with me, Sansa," Cillian said, gazing down at the woman nestling against him, wanting her to accompany him earnestly.

"Hmm!" Sansa took a moment to think... It was quite sudden for her. "I’d love to come with you, but I need to wrap up the exhibition. It’s the last day of my show," she said sadly.

"Let’s meet back here then. I’ll be with you for a long time," Sansa gently nudged his chin to console him.

"I’m afraid someone will steal you away from me!"

[msnihilist]

Hi, (I’m not anti or pro whatever that stuff are, just adding a bit of objective side to this whole debate because for some reason it’s on my for you page)

So as for pro-shippers claiming that it’s all okay because it’s fantasy, I think you sometimes lack to realise that there’s very thin line between fantasy and normalisation, and explanations with the type like “Well I won’t normalise it I know it’s bad, it’s just fiction/fantasy” doesn’t necessarily work from like logical and actual point of view. Because as for human minds, the more you’re exposed to something in certain view, the more you get used to it, thus normalising it. So bt more content view the more the line between fiction and reality becomes blurred, as it was proven and shown many times in the past, it’s simply how our minds work. So I don’t really like how offensive you get when people use the argument that it’s bad, because it indeed is. By the process I explained before. Is the act itself bad if it doesn’t include actual people? No. Feel free to do so, I think, but you have to actively remind yourself and your viewers that it’s indeed only “okay” in not-real sense of situation. Say what you will but author is responsible for the content he creates and to make it safe. With the moment you feel like the line that should be very much defined begins to blur you need to reach for profesional help because it’s not normal to project fantasies onto actual-living-beings.

As for anti-shippers, I understand your stand but so much hate and anger is harming for everyone. It’s understandable and admirable to stand for your morals and protect those in need, but as long as the content doesn’t cause actual harm to actual people, simply avoid it. It just might not be for you. Harassing and bullying other people for their creations/fantasies is not okay. I understand not wanting to normalise 4buse/p3d0phillia/inc3st, etc. but there’s important thing to remember, that is coping mechanism and idea of fantasy. The idea of it may somehow be hard to understand, that’s why sometimes you need to take time to acknowledge things. Sometimes you just need to cut it out of your sight. We all should be mindful and expectant of other people abilities to differentiate moral/not moral and fiction/reality. While it might be upsetting and annoying when pro-shippers seem to not acknowledge the seriousness of the case, you sometimes have to give the benefit of the doubt. Of course there are some “bad” individuals, but so are in every majority/minority ever.

Ok that’s all, I think, coming from someone who isn’t on either side, just did the necessary reaserch and have a piece of actual information. No rudeness or anything behind it. Simply informational, because honestly as long as you don’t harm/include real people in your whatever you call it, it’s not my business. However if you do, and you seem to cross the line, people have all the rights to criticise and call you out for it.

Anyhow, don’t be bitter, stay woke, eat the rich. Thank you for coming for my TedTalk.

(Although I do have to say, some of yall (both sides) toxic as hell)

TL:DR:

Remember kids, the line between fantasy and normalization is thin. Simply saying "it's just fiction" doesn't negate the potential for normalization, as repeated exposure can blur this line, influencing our perception. It's crucial to remind oneself and others that certain content is only acceptable in a fictional context. Creators must be responsible for their content and how they present it. Please do seek help if you struggle to maintain the distinction between fiction and reality.

Regarding anti-shippers, while your stance is understandable, excessive hate is counterproductive. Opposing harmful content is valid, but harassment isn't. Recognize that fantasy can serve as a coping mechanism for some. Not all pro-shippers are malicious, and it's important to give the benefit of the doubt while being mindful of the difference between fiction and reality. As long as no real harm is done, it’s not anyone’s concern. However, if real lines are crossed, criticism is justified

So, anon, the reason this is on your "for you" page is probably because you follow someone who interacts heavily with ship discourse. That's how the Tumblr algorithm usually works.

Anyway, it's your first paragraph and I already have a problem with it. There is no "objective" side to this debate. What, do you think you're the first person to ever have the brave and unique take that both sides are bad? Uh, no.

Objectively, the idea that fictional settings are sandboxes and should be judgment free is simply correct. There's really nothing to debate. Antis are wrong and frankly delusional.

Now that we've cleared that up, we'll move on to your second paragraph.

There is not a "thin line" between fantasy and normalization. How do I know that, you may ask? Simple: there are 154,000 fics on AO3 tagged as incest. There are 394,000 tagged as rape/non-con. There are 1,084,000 tagged as graphic violence. These numbers increase every minute.

So where are the rising numbers of murder in our society? Most antis such as yourself are American, so we'll just stick to American numbers. I don't see increased reports of rape or incest, even though Game of Thrones and House of the Dragons are insanely popular. Shameless and Breaking Bad didn't increase drug usage. I don't see Euphoria leading to greater rates of teenagers having sex.

But if you have the facts to back up your argument about normalization, anon, I would love to see your sources. Otherwise I'm afraid I will have to put that word on the top shelf until you learn how to use it properly.

(I found one study trying to link incest to pornography, but it was published by bedbible.com, so... Let's just say that I doubt their ability to be objective on the matter.)

What you go on to describe (with people getting used to something the more they see it) is called the mere exposure effect. It's a psychological phenomenon where people tend to develop a preference for things or people that are more familiar to them. Repeated exposure increases familiarity which increases positive associations. This is how branding works.

But if you knew anything about psychology, anon, you would know that this is, again, a phenomenon and not a law of human thought. Do people tend to like things that they see a lot? Sure! I think my bedroom is super comforting. I tend to like the friends that I see more often than the ones I don't see.

But I also hate brands that are constantly blasting me with ads. The more I listen to a song over and over again, the less I want to listen to it yet again.

And none of that even has anything to do with "the fine line between fantasy and normalization," as you put it, because what you're describing is escalation. It's mostly found in drug usage — how your body becomes used to a feeling and you need to take more and more of a substance in order to get the same feeling that a little bit used to give you.

The mere exposure effect works like this: I dislike the ship Ben/Gwen. Not because they are cousins, but because it simply doesn't appeal to me. I read a couple of fics about them. Gradually, I start to warm up to the pairing. I look at fanart. My fondness grows. Rinse and repeat, and here I am, writing my own Ben/Gwen fanfics.

The escalation effect works like this: I like the Ben/Gwen ship. I consume and create more content for this pairing, but it doesn't feel as satisfying as it used to. I begin to wonder about my own cousins. I start to think that the cousin I am closest to is kind of cute. I emulate the behaviors that I've seen in fanfic and fanart with my cousin, hoping to recreate the same joy I used to feel with my favorite pairing.

Do you see how insane that second thing sounds? Absolutely nobody does that. Do you know why? Because we understand that fiction and reality are too very different and starkly defined things. There is not a "thin line" between them, that line is a fucking wall at least twenty feet thick.

The familiarity = comfort effect does work, sometimes. That example with Ben/Gwen was a real one from my life. The more I saw it, the more I liked it. But I can also give you a dozen examples of things I see a lot and absolutely hate. That's why it's a "phenomenon" and entirely irrelevant to the point you're trying your best to make.

Also, if you're going to say "as was proven many times in the past," you're going to need a citation, otherwise I'm just going to have to assume that this knowledge was revealed to you in a dream.

Moving on.

"So I don’t really like how offensive you get when people use the argument that it’s bad, because it indeed is. By the process I explained before." ← We can strike that first sentence out entirely, because what you "explained before" was pulled straight out of your ass.

You have already reached the conclusion that certain things in fiction are wrong or gross to portray, and now you're trying to work backwards and retroactively find "evidence" to prove that these things are harmful so that you don't have to face the fact that you're no better than any other reactionist. Your disgust is not a good basis for a moral standpoint, but you would clearly rather pretend that it is instead of finding real information and developing an opinion from the bottom up, instead of this top-down bullshit you're trying to pass off as "objective" when this just reeks of empathy trolling.

Next: if you have to be actively reminded that murder, rape, and incest are Bad™, then you aren't emotionally mature enough to be reading my work, or anyone else's. I worry that you might read "The Hungry, Hungry Caterpillar" and start thinking that binge eating is okay. I mean, the author didn't come out and say that gourging yourself is bad! No wonder so many children in America are obese these days...

"Say what you will but author is responsible for the content he creates and to make it safe." No, they're not. You're insane.

"...it’s not normal to project fantasies onto actual-living-beings." Actually, it is. You fantasize about real people all the time. Have you ever masturbated to the thought of a crush? Got the short end of the stick at work and dreamt about giving your boss a piece of your mind? Even just felt really sad and imagined that someone was with you to make it feel better? Congrats, you fantasized about people!

You only need to seek professional help for fantasies when they start to distress you. Up until you run the risk of doing something in real life to hurt another person, you are under no obligation to share your thoughts. You do not need to be afraid of yourself because you imagined a one night stand with a stranger on the street. What matters is how you treat others, not what you keep to yourself.

"[Directed at antis] It’s understandable and admirable to stand for your morals and protect those in need." Quick correction: antis are protecting no one. Fictional characters aren't real and don't need to be "saved." Antis are also not understandable or admirable. Other than those things, this sentence is okay.

"I understand not wanting to normalise 4buse/p3d0phillia/inc3st, etc." Do everyone a favor and stop talking like a Homestuck character. Abuse. Pedophilia. Incest. These concepts are not somehow less harsh because you spelled it with numbers and made it harder for people with reading disabilities to follow.

"it might be upsetting and annoying when pro-shippers seem to not acknowledge the seriousness of the case" that's because there is nothing serious happening. I'm playing with my dolls. It's a shame that some people think I play too rough, but their outrage is not my problem.

You did not do any research or present any information. You weren't rude, but you also definitely weren't informational.

Wrong again. Fantasies about real people are also fine. Thoughts harm no one. No one has the "right" to criticize you for wrongthink. If you try to say that it's okay to criticize people for "crossing the line," then that begs the question, where is the line drawn? Let's ban RPF. Okay. Some bands have characters and stories in their albums. Can we write about their characters? The age of consent is different in many countries. Do we have to wait until all real people are older than 18, and why do American standards get dominance? If I base my OC heavily off of my favorite celebrity, does that count as RPF? What if the celebrity says they're okay with it? What if the celebrity is okay with certain things, but not this or that? If the celebrity changes their opinion, are all old works retroactively problematic? Etc etc. I can do this all day with any facet of fiction under the sun.

Censorship is not gray. It's all or nothing. If we start drawing the lines, eventually someone else is going to get to draw them, too, and they will not agree with where the line started.

Next time you want to sound informed, it would help to do some actual research. I have a collection of papers on violent fantasies and cyberbullying and the importance of fiction as an outlet if you need somewhere to start.

[me-uglypretty]

the mistakes of love

Pairing:  Carol Danvers x Reader

Summary: Carol accepts her mistakes, but she wasn't ready to accept the reality of the one she loves.

Warning: (18+), angst, mention of war, main character death, the marvels spoiler | 1k words

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I Fate appeared as though, muddled of sick jokes focussed on her existence and the ample of displease at mistakes she still regretted. It was her fault. She had accepted that fate countless of times before as her weary fixate on the unseen blood that stained her hands. It was a foolish act on her part. The belief that blazes within of how she was right, the act of power was proceeded by righteousness.

Thus, Carol Danvers stood there. A frown settled deep into her features, and the ache in her chest worsens at each harsh beat of her heart. Wishful thinking of those aspiring to save the world had aid her guilt to some extent.

"Captain Marvel, the annihilator.”

She hated that designated name for her. It wasn’t immoral at first like she had repeated to herself. Merely a deed driven by greater reasons and amiss was the aftermath. The repetition of such reasons hasn’t hindered the hatred spewed at her by the Kree or as Dar-Benn scowls, detesting her sheer existence for destroying their home.

“You took everything from me. And now I'm returning the favour."

Despite the evident of her life stolen under daylight and into the hands of the Kree. Her previous life was concealed with a forge identity. Memories stolen, only appearing as glimpse of something she couldn’t grasp between reality or fiction. It was wrong of them, and it was wrong for her to had acted that way.

Captain Marvel—powerful, strong, and vicious as she may be—was at fault. Perhaps, she deserved the guilt that drown her and hatred that threaten to ruin every little good in her life. She accepted her action wasn’t something that resolved a conflict. Carol Danvers accepted her fate.

“Don’t do this,” Carol had plead again.

Anger surfaced further as Dar-Benn spoke with gritted teeth. “Why must we stop now? Are you afraid? Where was your concern when you made my people suffer?”

Kamala tried appeasing Dar-Benn with reasons of danger if she was to use both bangles. A power that wouldn’t help either one of them. One wrapped around her arms while the other in the Kree’s possession. Similarly, Monica tried reassuring her that they would find a better solution.

It was then, amidst spoken wrath and a provoked battle that someone appeared behind Dar-Benn. Satisfaction flash in those angered eyes as silence emerged.

However, one reaction seemed to interest them more than the other. Monica and Kamala shared a puzzled look by the sight of Carol; mouth parted in utter shock, eyes wide and glossy as she stared ahead where the lone figure stood.

The physical reality of Carol differs from the trembles inside. Carol swore upon her life, the before and after, she must be dreaming of this or had dreamed of moments alike for far too many mourning nights. It was you just steps away from her. If she counted the seconds to reach you, it wouldn’t take her long as she would have soared towards you faster than light itself.

But you weren’t alike the euphoric persona she had experience before. You were there, surely, and your eyes appeared in their usual hues, however, those orbs stared vacantly into hers that glimmers of unshed tears. The stoic expression on your face and hallow eyes was devoid of the life she adored.

Carol was sure that you were there and yet, you weren’t.

“Doesn’t she look beautiful?” Dar-Benn proclaimed as her knuckles grazed your face in a jeering way. There wasn’t a distinct reaction on your face at her contact.

The concern gesture of a hand pressed on Carol’s upper back doesn’t reduce the tremor in her chest. “Who’s that?” Monica questioned seconds after, voice low and firm.

If she had asked the same question years ago, Carol would have beamed by the increasing emotions to speak of everything that revolved around you. A life that she couldn’t fathom losing and yet, she destroyed it completely.

Instead, Carol ignored the queries of her friends or teammates, the people that she must protect from facing the same devastation. She takes timid steps forward till she reached you. Two taunting steps away from you. Dar-Benn seemed to permit the distance with a chuckle of amusement.

The first warning she comprehend was the absolute indifference in your features. It was unlike you to remain so emotionless. She had expected for more. Words of anger spat at her face, an anticipated brawl between two, and the expression of such disapproval for her mistakes. The finality after the rapid reaction would have been followed by dreaded questions of her disappearance.

Carol was expecting everything that would have illustrate life, and never the flat silence that stirred a frightening ache in her heart for you. She feared the reasons that would reveal why you weren’t the same person she once knew. This wasn’t you. It’s a warning that perched dangerously at the stake of her heart.

Dar-Benn shared a wicked grin when Carol had glance at her. “I found out something about you and something about memories,” she explained vaguely. Her mouth lowered to your ear in pretend whisper as she spoke. “Remember Carol? The love of your life?”

Gasps echoed in the warship at the revelation, followed by confused murmurs between two. In contrast to the dejected look on Carol’s face when yours conveyed no such response. She would rather hear your anger, accompanied by the leader who radiated in vengeance or anything that wouldn’t sought with finality by Dar-Benn’s statement.

“Please,” Carol exhaled shakily. “Let me fix this. It’s my fault so let me fix this,” she said as her shoulder slumped in remorse. She stretched her hands towards Dar-Benn with her palms faced upwards, presenting herself without the glow of her strength. An act of peace than pledge of combat.

There was never a start or an end to the horrid things she had face. Before her truth, it was conditions formed by the Kree that she must follow and now, she was meant to protect the galaxy—and you.

It was you that she had promised as sole reason for her return. Then, the civil war was ensued by the assurance of freeing the occupants of Hala, and the destruction of your home. And yet, the last words of yours, echoed in her mind in tender affection;

“Whatever may happen, good or bad…I don’t think it would stop me from loving you, Carol Danvers.”

It was a mistake, Carol wanted to scream once she had figured out the truth. She had made many of them and still suffered through the ones she couldn’t fix. Like the promise of coming back home to little Monica, she promised the young child so much and felt shame at her failure to fulfil them. It was cowardly of her.

Now, she faced you in absolute danger. Her mistakes came back to haunt her. The evil she had done unto them and them—onto those she cared for.

“You want her?” Dar-Benn nodded towards you. “Or you want this?” she raised her arm, showcasing the glowing quantum bands.

At this moment, Kamala takes a rushed step forward. “Don’t do it, Carol.”

Monica agreed with mutters of a solution. It fades into sounds that doesn’t change the outcome of such faith.

It takes exactly five second. First second for the sound of disapproval at their pleas. Second was the blink of her eyes as she accepted defeat. Third that warned of a battle. Fourth had bleed into her heart of how death does follow her. Fifth was the fight which her body was obligatory to endure for them, especially when you had leapt forward with the emblem of unrecognisable rage.

It takes every throb of her aching heart for her to blast the glowing light that you deemed as the brightest, if not challenged by her smile. You had always spoken of such honied words that she couldn’t understand how her betrayal still rendered you emotionless.

How awful of a scene, how horrid it was to witness the fall of your body alike dominos collapsing to their doom. Then, for a fleeting moment, she had caught glimpse of those eyes she knew and adored, the emotions that bloom in those orbs as you witness the surge of energy directed at you—like you were there, you saw her at such a terrifying scene, you feared of her or something more—and it was empty again. Those eyes that she swore had glistened at the shout of your name from her miserable mouth.

It had happened in seconds. One moment she was reaching for your greying body then the other, she was rushing through space after Dar-Benn’s irrational act and the end, darkness engulf her.

It takes seconds, she thought. For Monica to haul her body from floating aimlessly in space and for Kamal to assist them back on the warship.

The worse was her trembling hands reaching for your body and cradling you in her arms. A cold body rested on hers as warm breath wafted at every apology that fell from her mouth. Tears fell woefully on your face by her grief.

Carol made a mistake. The worst of them had followed her spiteful shadow and cursed those who stood by her. It was unfair. You didn’t deserve the consequences of her action. It wasn’t fair to those whose life was endangered by her. It wasn’t fair to you.

Her bleary eyes stuck on your face, as if, trying to find a way for those eyes to flutter open and for a voice to carry through the eerily silent warship. Then, her mind deemed as the right time to reminisce the sweet moments shared with you. One of them was alike this, your head pressed soundly to her chest and her arms wrapped safely around your warm body. The gleamer of hope that glaze your eyes as you intently listen to her story of life on earth, and your attention doesn’t flatter, only growing with the smile on your face.

The love that blooms in your heart was for her. That, the scary truth, she was so afraid to admit. You had loved her, and she had failed you.

But Carol had loved you too.

She had loved you the first time your eyes had caught her attention. She loved you so, that her heart ceased to pulse by her accord as the truth settled in her chest. This must have been the ultimate consequence of her action. Maybe love wasn’t deserving for someone drowning in remorse by their own fault.

Nothing could change the outcome of this. The murmurs that soon surround her, doesn’t relief the infinite ache in her chest.

It was the end of you, and the end of hope.

hi! if you enjoyed this, do consider buying me a coffee 💜

[revasserium]

a rumination on falling in love; aka the terrifying and strange reality of "dream girl" becoming "real girl"

or, what happens when an only child who has only ever loved in fiction falls in love in real life instead

this is not for you. unless, of course. you, like me, have felt like this before. which is to say, this might be for you. but it most definitely is, 100%, for me. so read on if you'd like. or, close out and move right along.

i am very lucky, i think, to have had the childhood that i had -- only child, two loving parents. but not only that, two loving parents who were good at loving and also good at parenting (which are two very distinct and different things and somehow, at least in my semi-limited exposure to people around my age, is becoming rarer and rarer these days). i am lucky to have been allowed to grow as i have -- to never question that i am loved, unconditionally and endlessly, to never question whether or not i have something -- because of course it's mine -- i've got no siblings to have to share anything with.

now, to some, that might be a sad, lonely thing, but i never thought about it that way. because i was never taught to think about it that way. and contrary to popular belief, it hasn't made me (or at least so i think) stingy or "bad at sharing" -- it's actually made me rather an over-sharer. i always have snacks at the office, i try to offer advice freely, i spot dinners/outings when i can, i like the joy it brings to share things not only to the people being shared with, but also to me -- the person doing the sharing.

but the double-edged sword of only-child-dom in upper-middle class america is time -- the huge, gaping excess of it, giant swaths of it after school, great big chunks of it on the weekends, the seemingly unbridgeable chasm between turning off the light and falling asleep. later, i'd learn that undiagnosed adhd and very high performing manic depression are to blame for most of my vibrating sense of need to fill every hour of every day with some kind of productivity (this, unironically, is why i love new york city -- the frenetic energy of it matches my mental wavelength so that i can feel "productive" even when i'm just walking down the street or sitting in a bar).

but back then, i -- and by extension my lovely parents -- tried to fill it with stuff -- 2 different art classes, ballet, swimming, piano, debate club, singing, chinese school, and of course, with my still yet unfilled hours -- reading and writing. to say i was raised by the books i read would be an understatement. to say i am nothing more than a massive conglomerate of those characters that resonated most with me in those books would be parenthetical to the fact that i'm also built by all those characters i've ever admired or wanted to be. i am, in the most cliche, literal, non-lampshaded sense "that nerdy book girl" who made it her entire fucking personality to be... that nerdy book girl. and this, amidst the stratospheric rise of "not like other girls" media and rhetoric -- it was not healthy (it still isn't), but it was a large part of who i was. and a lingering part of who i am today.

my overactive, adhd-driven imagination served me well, then. into the stories i delved, and what i couldn't find in my normal every day life, i found in narrative. long before the tiktok-ification of "book boyfriends" came the voices in my head that sounded like all the would-be book boyfriends i'd ever have -- everyone from edward cullen to kakashi to four (that one guy from divergent who only has like 4 fears, which in retrospect is so, so cringe, but alas) to fictionalized versions of one direction members. the list goes on. i used to be able to hold entire conversations, play out entire scenes with these mental constructs with impudent ease. spend hours in my room by myself just imagining.

it was like astral projection -- my body, here, my mind and my soul, somewhere else entirely. and this i believe (to this day) is the core of a lot of my writing and creativity. and also the core of a lot of my philosophies and beliefs. the ability to sink into a dream, a scene, a story.

and then. i fell in love.

and sure, it would be much too cliche to say that misery breeds good art so a happy artist would (at best) produce mediocre art/writing/whatever. because i've also seen fantastic art produced by very, very happy artists. the sad truth is only that it's much rarer than the alternative of the painfully mainstream tortured artist.

but to some degree, i think there's an inkling of truth in that saying. because having a real-life boyfriend, with all the real-life machinations and strings of having said real-life boyfriend has made it, somehow, much harder to access that old imaginary part of me. like a child growing up and losing the ability to "make believe" the way they used to. except, i know it's still there. there are still moments where i touch it, where i dip my toes in and it always feels like coming home.

and it's more than just the normal adult-ish responsibilities of going to work and paying bills, making dinner and shopping for groceries. doing laundry and investing in your roth ira. because before real-life boyfriend, i still did those things and i was still able to seamlessly get to that "elsewhere place". somehow, it is the physical presence of real-life boyfriend that seems to act as a "grounding agent". he is home, so i can't go to that other place. or, i can kind of get there, but i've always still got one foot steeped in reality.

it is not a necessarily good or bad thing, just an observation at most. but it does create this new "space" for the "want" of that elsewhere. for the want to being able to slip into that creative asphodel like i used to -- blink and i'm there. so i find myself often sitting at my desk, wishing, and then wondering what it means that i can't. that it isn't always and immediately accessible to me anymore.

perhaps absolute solitude was the unquestioned prerequisite for so long that i'd never noticed it until the solitude was no longer available to me. or perhaps the book-boyfriends are just shy creatures, afraid of the blaring daylight that real-life boyfriend might shed on their ultimate two-dimensional beings.

or perhaps that was always a "safe space" that i'd created for myself, and now real-life boyfriend has created a safe space for me too, and the venne-diagram of the two space spaces overlap just so, making a less singular space of each of them in turn. i don't know, but it's an interesting thought.

it's always struck me, now thinking back, that i've never been even remotely interested in having a real-life relationship before now. but that i've also never questioned if i wanted the current one that i'm in, if this was "the one" or if it was "good for me". and in that too, i know i am very lucky. few people can say that they struck gold the first time they've ever tried.

i know for a fact i wouldn't be this happy, have this good of a life if real-life boyfriend weren't here. he has made me better in ways that i do not have words to describe. but i'm also terrified of the earthen grounding-ness of him. i've spent my entire childhood and most of my adult life with my head in the clouds, taking the necessary trips back down to earth when i had to but... it feels strange to be "here" more and more. there's a hole inside of me where "that" heaven should be.

but two things can be true -- i am happy here; i still yearn for that elsewhere.

[reddest-flower]

It is perfectly possible to argue that some distinctive objects are made by the mind, and that these objects, while appearing to exist objectively, have only a fictional reality. A group of people living on a few acres of land will set up boundaries between their land and its immediate surroundings and the territory beyond, which they call “the land of the barbarians.” In other words, this universal practice of designating in one’s mind a familiar space which is “ours” and an unfamiliar space beyond “ours” which is “theirs” is a way of making geographical distinctions that can be entirely arbitrary. I use the word “arbitrary” here because imaginative geography of the “our land-barbarian land” variety does not require that the barbarians acknowledge the distinction. It is enough for “us” to set up these boundaries in our own minds; “they” become “they” accordingly, and both their territory and their mentality are designated as different from “ours.” To a certain extent modern and primitive societies seem thus to derive a sense of their identities negatively. A fifth-century Athenian was very likely to feel himself to be nonbarbarian as much as he positively felt himself to be Athenian. The geographic boundaries accompany the social, ethnic, and cultural ones in expected ways. Yet often the sense in which someone feels himself to be not-foreign is based on a very unrigorous idea of what is “out there,” beyond one’s own territory. All kinds of suppositions, associations, and fictions appear to crowd the unfamiliar space outside one’s own.

The French philosopher Gaston Bachelard once wrote an analysis of what he called the poetics of space. The inside of a house, he said, acquires a sense of intimacy, secrecy, security, real or imagined, because of the experiences that come to seem appropriate for it. The objective space of a house—its corners, corridors, cellar, rooms—is far less important than what poetically it is endowed with, which is usually a quality with an imaginative or figurative value we can name and feel: thus a house may be haunted, or homelike, or prisonlike, or magical. So space acquires emotional and even rational sense by a kind of poetic process, whereby the vacant or anonymous reaches of distance are converted into meaning for us here. The same process occurs when we deal with time. Much of what we associate with or even know about such periods as “long ago” or “the beginning” or “at the end of time” is poetic—made up. For a historian of Middle Kingdom Egypt, “long ago” will have a very clear sort of meaning, but even this meaning does not totally dissipate the imaginative, quasi-fictional quality one senses lurking in a time very different and distant from our own. For there is no doubt that imaginative geography and history help the mind to intensify its own sense of itself by dramatizing the distance and difference between what is close to it and what is far away. This is no less true of the feelings we often have that we would have been more “at home” in the sixteenth century or in Tahiti.

Yet there is no use in pretending that all we know about time and space, or rather history and geography, is more than anything else imaginative. There are such things as positive history and positive geography which in Europe and the United States have impressive achievements to point to. Scholars now do know more about the world, its past and present, than they did, for example, in Gibbon’s time. Yet this is not to say that they know all there is to know, nor, more important, is it to say that what they know has effectively dispelled the imaginative geographical and historical knowledge I have been considering.

Orientalism, Edward Said, 1978

[tragicbeauty1991]

Today I got called a “murder apologist” (and other not so nice names) by someone who apparently does not like the fact that I love a good villain redemption arc. Let me explain a few things…

First off, welcome to my blog. We believe in the inherent goodness of humanity here. We believe in love and forgiveness and that people can change. We believe in kindness over bitterness, in hope over despair, and in reconciliation over revenge. And if that’s not your thing, maybe this isn’t the best blog for you to check out. And that’s okay. People are allowed to have different opinions.

Second… We recognize that there is a difference between fiction and reality. Just because I like a character and want to see them come around to the side of good does not mean that I approve of any or all of their actions. Murder is bad, kids. I think we can all agree on that point. I don’t support the character’s evil deeds. I support the idea of them working through the reasons they got to the point of doing them and then coming out on the other side of it as a better person who wants to try to make up for their past. I also recognize that there is a distinct difference between a fictional villain and a real-life serial killer in jail. I’m not that person who’s gonna be caught sending love letters to violent men in prison. I am, however, fascinated by them and am the kind of person who will listen to podcasts and watch documentaries that investigate the psychology of such people. I like to see what makes people do the things they do and I firmly believe that in the vast majority of cases, there is more than a little bit of nurture lacking in the “nature or nurture” cause of evil. People aren’t born evil. Learning how and why they became teaches empathy. And yes, I can empathize with them and still think they’re a terrible person. Maybe I’m naive, but I think the world can use more empathy, and I’d rather be a little too kind to someone who might not deserve it than bring more hatred into the world. Real people often don’t change their ways, but it does happen. And fiction allows a safe environment for us to play around with that idea.

Third… In the words of Wonder Woman, “It’s not about deserve.” Do I think these characters who have done awful, horrible things deserve to be redeemed? Probably not. But that’s the thing about grace and mercy…they are inherently undeserved gifts. And that doesn’t mean you don’t set boundaries. It doesn’t mean you put up with abuse. It doesn’t mean that actions don’t have legal or emotional or financial consequences and everything is automatically all rainbows and butterflies. Forgiveness isn’t a feeling. It’s a choice. It’s choosing to allow the legal system (and God, if you believe in Him) to do its work and taking yourself out of the equation in terms of offering vengeance. It’s not allowing yourself to get walked all over, but it’s also choosing not to go walking all over your enemy when you have the chance. Also…redemption isn’t something that happens overnight. It’s hard work. It’s a long process of the person slowly coming to realize that they were in the wrong, grieving deeply over the wrongs that they have done, and doing the best they can to make up for it by living a different sort of lifestyle. It’s not a single choice to do one good thing. It’s a million little choices to do the right thing instead of the easy thing over and over and over again. It’s stumbling along the way and making mistakes and getting back up and trying again. It’s learning to control anger and to accept that love and friendship and fear and heartbreak aren’t weakness. It’s learning to put others before themselves when before they only ever had to worry about looking out for Number One. To use a recent quote from the Loki series, “Raze it to the ground. That’s easy. Starting over is hard. Hope… Hope is hard.” Redemption doesn’t always mean a totally happy ending. It means becoming a better person, and there is often a lot of pain involved.

Finally, I’d like to conclude with the words I once heard from an Orthodox priest that really stuck with me and which I think are especially relevant to how I approach my thinking in both fictional villains and my actual fellow human beings… “Other sinful human beings are not the enemy. They are slaves of The Enemy. And you don’t hurt your enemy’s slaves. You try to set them free.”

[zapreportsblog]

Wish Upon A Star

➥ summary: (y/n) is just a overworked young adult who’s only real passion in life is living her best life for the man in the posters above her bed, Miguel O’Hara

➥ a/n: this was created and inspired by this post by @jayden-killer

The city sprawled beneath the night sky, its neon lights casting a vibrant glow that clashed with the darkness above. Among the countless inhabitants of this metropolis, a young adult named (Y/N) stood on her apartment balcony, her weary eyes tracing the familiar landscape. She was overworked, exhausted, but deep inside, she couldn't care less. Each day, the promise of returning home to her "husband" was enough to keep her going.

(Y/N) had always been a dreamer. In a world where connections were formed through screens and virtual spaces, she had found solace in a poster hanging on her bedroom wall. It depicted Miguel O'Hara, the iconic hero of her favorite comic series, Spider-Man 2099. With his sleek black and white costume and mysterious allure, Miguel had become her escape from the monotony of everyday life.

As she closed the front door behind her, (Y/N) let out a sigh of relief. Another day at the office was over, and the weight of responsibility gradually lifted from her shoulders. Her footsteps echoed through the quiet apartment as she made her way to the bedroom, anticipation bubbling within her.

Finally, she stood before the poster, illuminated by the soft glow of a bedside lamp. The image of Miguel O'Hara stared back at her, his confident smirk captivating her heart. The room was transformed into a sanctuary, a haven of fiction where reality momentarily faded away.

(Y/N) cherished these moments, basking in the imagined warmth of her "husband's" presence. She whispered secrets and dreams to the poster, seeking solace and understanding from an imaginary companion. Although she knew Miguel wasn't real, his portrayal in the comic series had resonated deeply with her, offering a sliver of hope amidst the mundane.

One fateful evening, as (Y/N) prepared for bed, a glimmer caught her eye through the window. A falling star streaked across the heavens, painting a trail of ethereal beauty across the night. Without hesitation, she found herself making the same wish countless others had before her, the words slipping from her lips with an intensity born of longing.

"Miguel O'Hara, please be real."

She watched the celestial display until the star disappeared into the horizon, its journey seemingly complete. Yet, little did (Y/N) know that her heartfelt wish had sparked a chain of events that would forever alter her life.

The following day began like any other, with (Y/N) immersing herself in the familiar routine of her professional life. As the hours slipped by, her mind occasionally drifted to the memory of the falling star and her wish. But as time went on, the magic of the moment waned, and doubts crept into her consciousness.

Weeks turned into months, and the memory of that night began to fade, buried under the burdens of reality. Yet, unbeknownst to (Y/N), forces were at work beyond her comprehension.

One evening, upon returning home, (Y/N) noticed an unusual package resting on her doorstep. Curiosity tinged with apprehension coursed through her veins as she picked it up. The box was unremarkable, devoid of any distinctive markings or labels. With trembling hands, she tore away the packaging, revealing its contents.

Her breath hitched as she stared at what lay before her—an advanced piece of technology, a device unlike anything she had ever seen. A note accompanied it, bearing a simple message:

"To (Y/N), from an admirer. Enjoy."

An enigmatic smile played upon (Y/N)'s lips as she held the device, her heart pounding with anticipation. It was an augmented reality visor, capable of projecting immersive holographic experiences. A gift that held the promise of transcending the boundaries between fantasy and reality.

Without hesitation, (Y/N) placed the visor upon her head, feeling a gentle hum as the world around her blurred into a realm of endless possibilities. A menu materialized before her eyes, showcasing various experiences to choose from.

And then, there it was—a simulation titled "Miguel O'Hara: Enter the 2099." Her heart skipped a beat as she selected the program, eager to explore a world where her beloved hero truly existed.

As the visor's holographic projections enveloped her, (Y/N) felt a surreal sense of belonging. She found herself standing in the futuristic streets of Nueva York, the cityscape stretching out before her. The sights and sounds were indistinguishable from reality, a testament to the technology's incredible capabilities.

And then, from the shadows, emerged Miguel O'Hara, the hero she had longed to meet. His presence was tangible, his voice resonating through her very being. For a moment, disbelief mingled with joy as she beheld the face of her cherished companion, finally real and standing before her.

But was this just a dream? A creation of her imagination brought to life by advanced technology? As (Y/N) engaged in conversation with Miguel, her doubts began to dissolve. There was a depth to his character, an authenticity that defied explanation. It felt as though fate itself had conspired to grant her wish.

Days turned into nights, and (Y/N) found herself spending more and more time in the augmented reality, forging a bond with the hero she had always yearned for. Together, they explored the futuristic world, fought against villains, and shared intimate moments of vulnerability.

Yet, as time went on, (Y/N) couldn't help but question the nature of their connection. Was her relationship with Miguel genuine, or was it merely an illusion, a projection of her deepest desires? In the midst of her internal struggle, she realized that the line between reality and fantasy had blurred beyond recognition.

Little did she know that this convergence of worlds was only the beginning of a journey that would test the limits of her beliefs, reshape her understanding of existence, and challenge the very fabric of her reality.

•••

In the immersive realm of the augmented reality visor, (Y/N) found herself standing amidst the bustling streets of Nueva York 2099. Buildings towered above her, their futuristic architecture reaching for the sky, while hovercars zipped through the air with a gentle hum. The air crackled with energy, creating an atmosphere of excitement and anticipation.

As (Y/N) navigated through the bustling crowds, her heart skipped a beat at the sight of Miguel O'Hara approaching. Dressed in his iconic black and white costume, he exuded a mix of confidence and humility. His eyes held a glimmer of curiosity and intrigue as he met her gaze, his voice laced with warmth.

"Welcome to the future, (Y/N). It's a pleasure to have you here," Miguel greeted her, his voice resonating through the air.

(Y/N) couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement mingled with disbelief. This wasn't a mere simulation; it was an encounter with the embodiment of her dreams. She took a moment to collect herself, her voice trembling slightly as she responded, "Thank you, Miguel. It's an honor to meet you in person, well, sort of."

A knowing smile danced upon Miguel's lips as he extended his arm in a welcoming gesture. "Come, let's take a stroll through the city. There's so much I want to show you."

As they walked side by side, Miguel guided (Y/N) through the vibrant streets, sharing stories of his adventures and offering glimpses into the intricacies of life in the future. (Y/N) was captivated by his tales, her eyes wide with wonder as she absorbed every detail.

They paused near a holographic display showcasing the latest innovations in technology, Miguel pointing out various advancements and their impact on society. Their conversation flowed effortlessly, as though they had known each other for years. The barrier between fiction and reality blurred, replaced by a profound connection.

(M/Y) couldn't help but express her amazement. "Miguel, everything here is incredible. It's like stepping into a dream come true."

Miguel chuckled softly, his eyes filled with warmth. "That's the beauty of the future, (Y/N). It's filled with infinite possibilities, limited only by our imagination and determination."

As they continued their leisurely walk, (Y/N) couldn't help but ask the burning question that had lingered in her mind since the day she made her wish. "Miguel, I have to know. How is it that you're here, in this augmented reality? Are you really real?"

Miguel's expression softened, a flicker of contemplation crossing his face. "Reality is a complex concept, (Y/N). What you perceive as real depends on your perspective. In this realm, I am as real as you want me to be. My essence, my personality, it exists here, within this experience. Whether that translates to the physical world, well... that's a question we both grapple with."

(Y/N) absorbed his words, her mind swirling with a mix of fascination and uncertainty. She couldn't deny the profound connection she felt, but the lingering doubt about the true nature of their relationship troubled her.

"Miguel, do you think it's possible for dreams to become reality?" she asked, her voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability.

Miguel's eyes held a gentle understanding as he replied, "Dreams possess immense power, (Y/N). They fuel our aspirations, guide our actions, and shape our perception of the world. Whether they can manifest in the physical realm is a question that defies simple answers. Sometimes, dreams inspire us to push the boundaries of what's possible, while at other times, they serve as reminders of our desires and unfulfilled wishes. What matters most is how we embrace and pursue those dreams, allowing them to shape our lives in meaningful ways."

His words resonated deeply with (Y/N), stirring a sense of purpose within her. She realized that the encounter with Miguel, be it in this augmented reality or a creation of her imagination, had ignited a flame of inspiration and hope within her soul.

As the sun began to set on Nueva York 2099, casting a golden glow across the city, (Y/N) and Miguel found themselves standing on a rooftop, gazing out at the sprawling metropolis below. The hum of the city below mingled with their conversation, creating a symphony of sights and sounds.

Miguel turned to (Y/N) and spoke softly, his voice carrying a profound wisdom. "Remember, (Y/N), the power of your wishes and dreams lies within you. They are the sparks that ignite the fire of change and possibility. Embrace them, nurture them, and never be afraid to pursue the path they illuminate."

As the two continued to talk, their conversation meandering through a myriad of topics, (Y/N) realized that this encounter was more than a mere figment of her imagination. Whether Miguel existed in the physical world or not, the impact he had on her life and the inspiration she drew from their interactions were undeniably real.

As the night sky enveloped the city in darkness, (Y/N) and Miguel shared one last conversation before bidding each other farewell, their connection lingering in the air like an echo of their shared moments.

Walking away from the augmented reality visor, (Y/N) carried with her a renewed sense of purpose. Miguel O'Hara, whether a projection of her imagination or a manifestation of her deepest desires, had become more than just a dream. He had become a catalyst for her own growth and the pursuit of her dreams, a reminder that sometimes, the lines between fiction and reality blur in the most extraordinary ways.

And so, as (Y/N) ventured back into the world outside her apartment, she carried the memories of their conversations and the lessons learned. The journey had only just begun, and the path ahead, while uncertain, promised infinite possibilities.

[reflectionfamily]

Intro to Us - Masterpost

We’re The Reflection Family, a collective of over 200 members (so far) in eight different branches sharing a body. Our collective is organized into several distinct groups and categories, reflecting different origins, roles, and characteristics of our coanimans. Each branch has its unique dynamics and members, influenced by their proximity to certain fragments.

Types of Coanimans: A Guide to Our Color Coding

• The Original (White): Mckayla, the primary coaniman associated with the body.

• Core (Dark Grey): Human coanimans who are direct splits from Mckayla, sharing similar physical traits.

• Undead (Black): Coanimans disconnected from reality due to near-death experiences; not necessarily direct splits.

• Hypnosis (Desaturated Pink): Coanimans created via hypnosis, either accidentally or intentionally.

• Non-Human (Purple): Coanimans that are either direct splits or introjects of animals.

• Fiction-Sourced (Light Pink): Introjects named after fictional characters or celebrities.

• IRL-Sourced (Teal): Introjects from real-life relationships.

• Fragments (Green): Coanimans embodying singular characteristics and influencing nearby parts when co-conscious.

• Spirits (Light Grey): Protective entities or guides within the system.

Overview of Our Structure

Hosts: Who's in the background?

The hosts in the collective not only manage daily life, social interactions, and external relationships but also play a crucial role in preserving long-term memory recall within a collective memory bank. They act as the primary points of interaction with the outside world, ensuring that the collective's needs and responsibilities are met while maintaining a stable presence. By embodying qualities such as adaptability, resilience, and social awareness, the hosts effectively navigate diverse situations and challenges, presenting a cohesive identity to those outside the collective. Through their ability to coordinate with other parts and maintain access to shared memories, the hosts ensure continuity and a functional existence, bridging the internal world with external reality and fostering a sense of cohesion and unity within the collective.

• Veronica - 23-24 - Oversees relationships and social interactions.

• Sel - 17-24 - Manages school-related tasks.

• Selene - 18-24 - Focused on work and professional responsibilities.

• A39 - ageless - Responsible for switching between parts.

The Gatekeepers: Who Runs The System, Really?

The gatekeepers in the collective are vital entities responsible for managing and regulating access to various aspects of the inner world and the collective's complex internal landscape. They oversee the flow of memories, emotions, and information, ensuring that the right coanimans come forward when needed and that sensitive or potentially destabilizing memories are kept at bay until they can be safely processed. The gatekeepers also play a protective role, shielding more vulnerable members from traumatic recollections or overwhelming emotions. By maintaining a delicate balance between different parts and their experiences, the gatekeepers facilitate smoother transitions and interactions within the collective, contributing to overall stability and coherence in navigating daily life and therapeutic work.

• Charlotte - 20-45 - Gatekeeps the IRL subgroup.

• Jade - 15-24 - Oversees the Teens.

• James - 17-19 - Manages the Guys & Gays.

• Sarah - 8-20 - Responsible for the Middles.

• Elena - 8-14 - Oversees the Littles/Munchkins.

• Gemma - 25-45 - Responsible for the Hypnos.

• Patricia - 12-20 - Oversees the Shadows, managing more hidden or complex parts.

• Kara - 4-40 - Helps Fictional-Sourced members.

• Valzor - 30-43 - Manages parts connected to innerworld characters.

The Fragments - The 4 Corners of the Mind

The four fragments—Quietus, Reject, Bate, and Amends—each contribute to the collective's overall balance and resilience, shaping how the group interacts with both its internal landscape and the external world. These fragments represent different approaches to coping, healing, and navigating life's complexities, influencing the way coanimans respond to experiences and challenges. Together, they create a dynamic and multifaceted internal structure that fosters growth, adaptability, and a deeper understanding of self and surroundings, allowing for a cohesive yet varied approach to managing the collective's needs and interactions.

1. Quietus - Control and Repression - Quietus represents control, repression, and emotional suppression. As a fragment, Quietus embodies a deep need for stability, often at the cost of suppressing unwanted emotions and memories. This influence creates an environment where emotional expression is minimized to maintain order and prevent chaos within the system.

2. Reject - Identity and Exclusion - Reject grapples with feelings of rejection, self-worth, and exclusion. This fragment represents the internal struggle with identity and belonging, influencing coanimans who question their value and place within the collective. Reject’s influence is marked by a constant battle for self-acceptance and understanding, reflecting the complexities of identity formation and emotional growth.

3. Bate - Power and Anger - Bate embodies strength, power, and anger. This fragment channels defensive and assertive behaviors to protect or assert boundaries within the system. Bate’s influence is rooted in experiences of confrontation and resilience, shaping coanimans who are unafraid to express anger or assert their needs. This fragment also represents a willingness to fight against perceived threats or injustices, using power as a means of protection.

4. Amends - Comfort and Detachment - Amends focuses on comfort, detachment, and exploration. This fragment embodies the need for emotional solace and the detachment from painful or overwhelming experiences. Amends’ influence encourages exploration of inner worlds, seeking comfort through creativity, fantasy, and introspection. This fragment is characterized by a desire for emotional safety, often finding refuge in inner worlds and imaginative escapes.

Mckayla - The Original Lineage

Mckayla - 10 - The Original: The primary coaniman associated with the body, representing her current maturity level with therapy. Initially, she was stuck at age 6 when parts therapy began but has matured through therapeutic work.

Outside: The Ascended

Marah - The Unborn and Unique Presence

Marah - [Undead]: Represents Selene’s unborn daughter, a unique member within the collective, reflecting themes of unrealized potential and the complex emotional layers surrounding life, loss, and what could have been. She holds a special place in the collective, symbolizing a blend of innocence and the mysteries of existence.

Quietus’ Sphere of Influence - The Repressive Sphere

Quietus - Control and Repression - A fragment of control and repression, Quietus influences coanimans characterized by suppression, emotional restraint, and efforts to maintain stability by managing unwanted emotions and memories.

• Doe - The Watcher - A protective spirit animal within Quietus’ sphere, embodying caution and vigilance, overseeing the coanimans within this line.

Lil’s Line - The Innocence and Attachment Path

Lil’s line focuses on innocence, early childhood memories, and various forms of attachment and loss, exploring how these emotions manifest within the system.

Lil’s Subsystem - The Innocence Path

Lil represents the youngest, most innocent form, embodying early childhood. Her line expands through various aged-up versions that represent a progression from innocence to maturity:

• Lil - 2-4 - The Innocent [Core]: Represents the youngest, most innocent form, embodying early childhood.

• Lils - 5-9 [Core]: An aged-up version of Lil, representing an older and more developed form of innocence.

• Lily - 10-14 [Core]: Aged-up version of Lils; the “big” version, half-cat, half-human, based on the system’s cat.

• Lilith - 16-24 [Core]: The adult version of Lily, embodying a mature form of innocence.

Love’s Subsystem - The Attachment and Loss Line

Love embodies obsessive love and attachment, which further branches out into various representations of love and care, highlighting the complexities of relational dynamics within the system:

• Love - 13 - The Obsessive [Core]: Represents obsessive love, and splits into:

• Elena - 8-14 - The Caregiver [Core]: Represents sibling love and serves as a caregiver to the littles.

• Cherry - 17-18 - The Romantic [Core]: Represents romantic love.

• Nicole - 20-29 - The Sister [IRL]: Represents adoptive family connections.

• Michelle - 20-35 - The Protector [IRL]: Another representation of adoptive family ties.

Preciousy’s Subsystem - The Hypno Line

Preciousy, originally a cat, becomes a Hypno due to a traumatic loss. Her line focuses on themes of loss and trauma, represented by various parts that embody different aspects of these experiences:

• Preciousy - 6-16 - The Lost [Hypno]: Originally the system’s cat, now a Hypno due to trauma.

• Kat - 12-14 - The Feline [Hypno]: Represents a young version dealing with the emotional trauma of loss.

• Katerina [Core]: Further explores the themes of loss and attachment.

• Lindsey [IRL]: Represents deeper feelings of abandonment and healing.

• Bambi - 19 [Hypno]: Represents a mature aspect dealing with sensuality.

Clarissa’s Subsystem - The Machine Line

Clarissa, within Lil’s branch, is a unique entity representing non-human, mechanical aspects, emphasizing themes of emotionlessness and functionality:

• Clarissa - The Machine [Hypno]: A unique, machine-like entity that does not conform to typical human emotions.

• A39 - ageless [Hypno]: A drone responsible for mechanical tasks and operations.

• Syn - ageless [Hypno]: An AI system designed for processing and organizing information.

• Synth - ageless [Hypno]: A teen part handling intermediate tasks.

• Synthia - ageless [Hypno]: The adult part responsible for more complex operations.

Rosie’s Line - The Creative and Resilient Path

Rosie’s line focuses on creativity, resilience, and leadership, exploring themes of beauty, creative spirit, and artistic expression through various coanimans in this line.

Rosie’s Subsystem - The Creative Line

Rosie represents an early emotional split with creative tendencies, leading to various manifestations of creativity and artistic expression:

• Rosie - The Creative [Core]: Represents an early emotional split with a focus on creativity.

• Rose - 14-18 - The Resilient [Core]: Embodies themes of beauty and resilience.

• Rosalina - 10-14 [Core]: Represents a youthful creative spirit continuing Rosie’s theme.

Little Red’s Subsystem - The Survivor’s Path

Little Red explores themes of survival and caution, embodying resilience in the face of adversity:

• Little Red - 4-10 - The Survivor [Fiction]: Represents themes of survival and caution.

• Snow - 14-22 [Fiction]: Embodies themes of cold detachment and perseverance.

Cleopatra’s Subsystem - The Leadership Line

Cleopatra’s line is centered around leadership and heritage, embodying strength and leadership qualities:

• Cleopatra - 16-25 - The Leader [Fiction]: Represents themes of leadership and heritage.

• Marie - 14-18 [Fiction]: Embodies grace and poise.

• Mary - 16-19 [Fiction]: A youthful version dealing with innocence and purity.

Éponine’s Subsystem - The Unrequited Love Line

Éponine’s line represents themes of unrequited love and self-sacrifice, exploring emotional depth and complexity:

• Éponine - [Fiction]: Represents themes of unrequited love and self-sacrifice.

Reject’s Sphere of Influence - The Identity and Exclusion Sphere

Reject - Identity and Exclusion - Embodies the struggle with rejection, self-worth, and belonging, influencing coanimans who grapple with their sense of identity.

Angel’s Line - The Shadowed Innocence and Rejection Path

Angel’s line navigates themes of innocence entangled with feelings of rejection, exploring the dynamics of identity and self-worth through various manifestations within the system.

Angel’s Subsystem - The Shadowed Innocence Line

Angel, rooted in a childhood nickname, deals with themes of shadowed innocence and entrapment, reflecting on memories tied to familial nicknames and shadowy experiences:

• Angel - The Shadowed Innocent [Core]: Connected to a childhood nickname, represents innocence and purity.

• Angelica - [Core]: Trapped in the shadow realm as a child.

• Angelique - [Core]: Adult version who carries shared memories from Angelica’s time in the shadow realm.

Jordan and Caileigh’s Subsystem - The Almost-Identity Line

This subsystem explores identities that almost were, reflecting on alternate life paths and identities that the body might have had:

• Jordan - 8-16 - The Boy That Wasn’t [Core]: Represents a male identity that the body might have had.

• Caileigh - 8-14 - The Twin [Core]: Another almost-name, twin to Jordan.

• Lauren - [IRL]: Based on a real-life school friend.

BB Grrl’s Subsystem - The Nickname Line

BB Grrl represents another nickname that forms a distinct line exploring different facets of identity, shaped by external influences and introjections:

• BB Grrl - [Core]: Nickname-based coaniman.

• Miss Blank - [Core]: Views herself as the stepfather’s daughter.

• Gemma - 25-45 - The Anarchist [Fiction]: Connected to “Sons of Anarchy.”

• Tara - [Fiction]: Also inspired by “Sons of Anarchy.”

Nico’s Subsystem - The Bug Line

Nico’s line represents themes of fragility and resilience, characterized by nonverbal communication and various representations of small, resilient creatures:

• Nico - [IRL]: Introject of stepdad’s son.

• Bug - [Non-Human]: Represents smallness and fragility.

• Ant - [Non-Human]: Embodies diligence and teamwork.

• Flea - [Non-Human]: Represents resilience and survival.

• Ladybug - [Non-Human]: Carries themes of luck and protection.

Chica’s Subsystem - The Lost Doll Line

Chica, embodying a lost childhood object, explores themes of playfulness and loss, reflecting on childhood experiences and the creation of playful personas:

• Chica - [Core]: A Mexican doll reflecting childhood memories.

• Señorita Squishyface - [Core]: A playful persona that emerged from having her cheeks squished together to be cute.

Michaela’s Line - The Familial Memory and Identity Path

Michaela’s line is deeply rooted in family memories and identities, reflecting the various aspects of familial roles, relationships, and the complexities of family dynamics within the system.

Millie’s Subsystem - The Childhood Memory Line

Millie encompasses early childhood memories, capturing the innocence and experiences of youth and representing foundational aspects of the family identity:

• Millie - 0-14 [Core]: Embodies young memories, up to age 14.

• Tigger - [Non-Human]: Represents a past pet horse.

• Magic - [Non-Human]: Represents another past pet horse.

Kayla’s Subsystem - The Animal Care Line

Kayla represents a strong connection to animals and veterinary skills, showcasing a deep commitment to caring for and understanding animals:

• Kayla - [Core]: Represents veterinary skills and animal care.

• Abraham - [Non-Human]: Represents a specific animal connection.

• Sarai - [Non-Human]: Represents another specific animal connection.

• Winter - [Non-Human]: Represents care for a baby squirrel.

Mckay and Mikey’s Subsystem - The Twin Identity Line

Mckay and Mikey explore the dynamics of gender and twin identities, showcasing the fluidity and complexity of self-identification within the system:

• Mckay - [Core]: Represents a genderfluid aspect of Michaela.

• Mikey - 8-15 - The Boy Twin [Core]: Represents a boy version who eventually split into two parts.

• Mickey - 13-18 [Core]: A trans demi-girl.

• MJ - 16-19 [Core]: An older teen boy.

Jezebel’s Subsystem - The Protector and Fighter Line

Jezebel represents themes of protection and fighting spirit, embodying a defensive and assertive role within the system to manage conflict and anger:

• Jezebel - 24 - The Fighter [Core]: Emerged during a physical altercation with a family member.

• Valerie - 24 [Core]: Represents anger and protection.

Liz’s Subsystem - The Maternal Influence Line

Liz, along with her splits, embodies different aspects of maternal influence and roles, reflecting complex relationships with the mother figure:

• Liz - 30 [IRL]: Represents Michaela’s real mother.

• Eliza - 18-30 [IRL]: Represents a Catholic witch version.

• Lizzy - 18-30 [IRL]: Represents a nurse version.

• Bobbiette - 18-30 [IRL]: Represents a best friend from the mother’s high school years.

Support Figures Subsystem - The Guiding and Supportive Influences

This line also includes figures who have provided guidance, support, or therapeutic influence within the system, showcasing roles of caretaking and mentorship:

• Kristi - [IRL]: Represents Michaela’s therapist.

• Jenny - 30-35 [IRL]: Represents a surrogate mother figure.

Jade’s Line - The Intersex and Trauma Identity Path

Jade’s line reflects the complexity of intersex identity and trauma, exploring themes of gender, personal and adoptive identities, and the impact of past relationships and experiences.

Jade’s Subsystem - The Intersex Identity Line

Jade, embracing an intersex identity, due to PCOS, high testosterone, and genetic endometriosis, and navigates the interplay of personal and adoptive identities within hxr subsystem:

• Jade - The Intersex Identity [Core]: Integrates both personal and adoptive identities, reflecting an intersex identity and the navigation of related complexities.

• CJ - The Trans Demi-Guy [Core]: Represents a young trans demi-guy, highlighting an early stage of gender exploration.

• JC - The Teen Male [Core]: An older split from CJ, representing the evolution of gender identity into the teen years.

• James - The Adult Intersex Male [Core]: An adult manifestation of intersex identity, encompassing the culmination of gender exploration and identity solidification.

Selene’s Subsystem - The Trauma and Relationship Line

Selene’s line deals with trauma and relationship dynamics, reflecting on past experiences and the impact of relational ties:

• Selene - [Core]: Central co-host with a large subsystem.

• Chlöe - [Core]: A recent split due to medication changes.

• Leena - [Core]: Holds relationship trauma from the last ex.

• Sel - [Core]: School host, splits into Celeste, Ivy, and Ruby.

• Ruby - [Core]: Holds sexual trauma, splits into:

• Warren (IRL): an ex

• Wren (Core): tied to Warren, possibly undead

• Marissa - 19 - [Hypno]: a bimbo who spits into:

• Harley (Fiction): Harley Quinn

• Mav (IRL): of a past partner

Charlotte’s Subsystem - The Legacy Line

Charlotte’s subsystem encapsulates familial and fictional influences, integrating various introjects that represent different aspects of familial history and personal attachments:

• Charlotte - [Core]: Jade’s grandmother.

• Ty - [Core]: Represents Charlotte’s nephew.

• Midnight - [Non-Human]: Her Mother’s horse.

• Maxine - [Non-Human]: Her Cat.

• Nina - [Non-Human]: Her Sister’s dog.

• Laura Ingalls Wilder - [Fiction]: Fictional introject from “Little House on the Prairie.”

• Anne - [Fiction]: Introject from “Anne of Green Gables.”

Celebrity Influences Subsystem - The Iconic Personas Line

This subsystem reflects the integration of celebrity influences, embodying themes of understanding, strength, and mental health awareness through iconic personas:

• Carrie Fisher - [Fiction]: Represents a connection to mental health advocacy and trauma understanding.

• Amy Lee - [Fiction]: Symbolizes themes of emotional expression and resilience in dealing with personal struggles.

Bate’s Sphere of Influence - The Power and Anger Branch

Bate - Power and Anger - Influences coanimans who embody strength, power, and anger, often manifesting as defensive or assertive behaviors to protect or assert themselves.

• Amaraeth - The Guardian - A guardian spirit within Bate’s sphere, embodying spiritual power and protection, guiding coanimans under Bate’s influence.

Violet’s Line - The Undead Path

Violet’s line explores themes of survival, transformation, and undead characteristics, reflecting on near-death experiences and the journey of strength and resilience.

Violet’s Subsystem - The Undead and Flower Line

Violet starts the undead and flower line due to a near-death experience. This subsystem reflects themes of survival, transformation, and protection:

• Violet - The Survivor [Undead]: Created due to near-death experiences.

• Lilac - [Non-Human]: Represents another part of the flower line.

• Poppy - [Non-Human]: Represents another flower line extension.

• Jasmine - [Non-Human]: Represents further depth in the flower line.

• Iris - 19 - The Defender [Undead]: A defender coaniman above body-age, often managing protection roles.

• Kali - 19-25 [Undead]: Embodies themes of destruction and transformation.

• Cora - [Fiction]: A fictional mother introject, representing nurturing and protection.

• Kira - 14-18 [Undead]: A dominant part during high school.

• Ranèe - [Undead]: A bigender version of a high school best friend.

• Veronica - 23-24 [Half-Undead]: One of the current hosts.

Veronica’s Subsystem - The Host and Introject Line

Veronica’s subsystem explores themes of hosting and introjection, reflecting on relationships and the blending of internal and external influences:

• Veronica - 23-24 [Half-Undead]: One of the current hosts.

• Todd - [IRL]: An introject of the system’s boyfriend.

• Lady - [IRL]: A female introject of the boyfriend.

• April - [Hypno]: A happy hypno part.

• Doll - [Hypno]: Another, this time porcelain, doll

• Mistress - [Hypno]: A Mistress.

Patricia’s Subsystem - The Shadow Realm Line

Patricia, a vampire gatekeeper of the shadow realm, explores themes of memory manipulation and subconscious control, reflecting on the system’s shadow aspects:

• Patricia - 12-20 - The Gatekeeper [Undead]: A vampire gatekeeper of the shadow realm.

• Bryce - 18 [IRL]: Created accidentally during memory repression.

Kara’s Subsystem - The Fictive Gatekeeper Line

Kara (Supergirl) is the gatekeeper of fictives, reflecting on themes of imagination and the role of fiction in shaping internal experiences and identities:

• Kara - 4-40 - The Fictive Gatekeeper [Fiction]: Helps manage fictives and introduces fictional character elements.

• Minnie - 3-8 [Fiction]: Represents “Minnie Mouse,” the mini mom.

• Melody - 4-9 [Fiction]: Represents “Ariel’s daughter,” the mermaid.

• Mulan - [Fiction]: Represents “Mulan,” the warrior.

• Sara - [Fiction]: Represents “The Little Princess.”

• Annaliese - 18-19 [Fiction]: Represents “Barbie (Princess and the Pauper).”

• Hannah M - 12-15 [Fiction]: Represents “Hannah Montana.”

• Lilia - 8-18 [IRL]: Represents an introject from a real-life friend.

Shared Sphere of Influence - The Resilient Power and Comfort Sphere

Shared Influence from Amends and Bate - Power and Comfort -This sphere merges the influences of Bate, emphasizing power and anger, with Amends, focusing on comfort and detachment, creating a blend of strength and comfort-seeking behaviors.

Sarah’s Line - The Faithful and Spiritual Path

Sarah’s line encompasses themes of faith, spirituality, and resilience, reflecting on the journey of inner strength and spiritual connection within the system.

Sarah’s Subsystem - The Faithful and Spiritual Line

Sarah V is a core figure embodying faith and introspection. Her subsystem is diverse, exploring deep spiritual connections and biblical influences:

• Sarah V - The Faithful [Core]: Represents a deep connection to faith and internal reflection.

• Teva Levanna - [Core]: Represents a transformation during conversion classes to Judaism.

Esther’s Subsystem - The Biblical Triad and Protective Spirits

Centered around biblical and protective themes, this subsystem explores different aspects of familial and romantic stories, as well as protection within the system:

• Esther - 16-18 [Core]: Represents a Biblical influence with several splits:

• Rebecca - 8-12 [Core]: Represents a young, foundational Biblical character.

• Leah - [Core]: Represents the “unloved” Biblical figure.

• Rachel - 12-20 [Core]: Represents the “beloved” counterpart.

• Eliana - [IRL]: Represents a protective response to a traumatic experience.

• Belle - [Core]: Represents a romantic influence.

Zara’s Subsystem - The Intellectual and Feline Line

Zara’s line explores intellectual and feline themes, reflecting on scholarly aspects and protective instincts within familial relationships:

• Zara - [Core]: Formerly known as Sarah F.

• Natalie - [Core]: Represents a refined, scholarly aspect.

• Diana - 30-45 [IRL]: Represents a grandmother figure introject with specific traits.

• Cleo - 23 [Non-human]: Represents a sweet, black and white Persian cat.

• Shay - 12-16 [Non-human]: Represents a more reserved and cautious cat.

Aurora’s Kingdom Subsystem - The Inner World Builders

Sarah V also constructed an inner world known as The Kingdom of Aurora, a realm reflecting the system’s creative and spiritual depths. This world is inhabited by various characters and represents the complex interplay between creativity and spiritual introspection:

• Lizbeth - [IRL]: Represents a mother figure in the inner world.

• Valzor - 30-43 [Non-human]: Represents a metaphorical introject and antagonist.

• June - 2-15 [Non-human]: Represents a clone of Jade with embedded trauma memories.

• Scarlett - 8-15 [Non-human]: Represents a clone of Sarah with embedded trauma memories.

• Genie - 30-45 [Non-human]: Represents a shapeshifter with mystical ties.

• Solaria - [Non-human]: Represents a swamp witch with connections to inner narratives.

• Riku - [Non-human]: Represents an advisor to a fictional queen.

• Maya - 45-60 [Non-human]: Represents a slain dragon mother.

• Zayn - 6-19 [Non-human]: Represents her son turned dragon.

• Keeper of Secrets - [Non-human]: Represents a Gorian linked to subconscious thoughts.

• Daniel - 28-33 [Non-human]: Represents a pretty boy introject.

• Hunter - 18-30 [Non-human]: Represents a lover of animals.

• Xander - 25-35 [Non-human]: Represents a photography enthusiast.

• Zen - 35-50 [Non-human]: Represents a peaceful lover.

Amends’ Sphere of Influence - The Comfort and Detachment Sphere

Amends - Comfort and Detachment - Focuses on coanimans who provide comfort or exhibit a significant detachment from the core self, reflecting themes of exploration, longing, and searching for connection.

Callie’s Line - The Detachment and Exploration Path

Callie’s line focuses on themes of detachment, exploration, and the search for connection, often reflecting experiences related to childhood trauma and the longing for belonging and comfort.

Callie’s Subsystem - The Foster Care Twins and Fantasy Line

Callie embodies the detachment experienced during early childhood trauma in foster care. Her direct splits, Roslyn and Luna, explore themes of enchantment and escapism:

• Callie - The Explorer [Core]: Represents the first split in foster care, disconnected from Mckayla directly.

• Roslyn - [Core]: Represents a twin aspect, inspired by the first foster home experience.

• Nessie - [Non-human]: Represents a fae connection from a magical encounter.

Luna’s Subsystem - The Star Wars Galaxy Explorers

Luna’s fascination with space and escapism led her to craft an entire inner world inspired by the Star Wars galaxy, populated by various characters that reflect her desire to explore unknown territories:

• Luna - 8-16 [IRL]: Represents a space-loving, daydreamer persona.

• Tuila - 16 [Non-human]: Represents a “Star Wars” inspired character.

• Carina - [Non-human]: Represents a nebula-inspired character.

• Orion - [Non-human]: Represents another nebula inspiration.

• Venus - [Non-human]: Represents a planet-based inspiration.

• Eros - [Non-human]: Represents an asteroid-inspired character.

• Leo - [Non-human]: Represents a constellation-based character.

• Pluto - [Non-human]: Represents another planet-based inspiration.

Callie’s Fictive Subsystem - The Motherless Characters

Callie also developed a series of fictive alters reflecting themes of abandonment and searching for belonging, focusing on characters who are motherless or seeking maternal connections:

• Dorothy - 14-18 [Fiction]: Represents a motherless fictive who feels homeless.

• Eloise - 9-12 [Fiction]: Represents a character waiting for her mother’s visits.

• Lilo - 6-12 [Fiction]: Represents “Lilo” from “Lilo and Stitch,” symbolizing found family and resilience.

• Madeline - 6-10 [Fiction]: Represents a boarding school student.

• Rapunzel - [Fiction]: Represents a character given up by her parents.

Callie's Adoption and Friendship Subsystem

Callie’s experiences with adoption are explored through parts that reflect themes of identity formation and friendship within an adoptive context:

• Hannah S - [IRL]: Represents a friend introject who is also adopted, symbolizing shared experiences of adoption and identity search.

--- End.

[dark-elf-writes]

This is a genuine question (that has nothing to do with anything you’ve said/done I’ve just been thinking about it), but where do you draw the line between sexualization and attraction when it comes to a fictional character.

With real people it’s cut and dry. View people as people and treat them as such too. If you’re attracted to them great.

But you can’t exactly treat a character like a real person because they just aren’t. I would never talk about a real person the same way I talk about fictional ones (aka calling them my most perfect pretty princess in the whole wide world 24/7 on tumblr in the tags of a piece of fanart)

Just curious about your opinion

Tbh I don’t think there is a limit as long as it’s a character? Like they don’t exist. If you can’t hold that distinction in mind and don’t bring it into the real world you’re allowed to be as unhinged horny as you want. Read/write/watch/draw the most unhinged porn you want of them. They won’t care. They aren’t real. Just keep it out of reality and don’t like send it to creators/actors/etc unless they are explicitly and openly okay with it/ are asking for it on their own and it’s fine.