#but its not stated outwardly as a punishment

[greenmther]

daeron not being sent to driftmark just bc otto wanted him to be a ward in oldtown, but daeron being sent away to oldtown as punishment for what alicent did during driftmark ..

[agent-cupcake]

Amen

Pairing: Suguru Geto x f! Reader

Synopsis: No matter the severity of your actions, Suguru would never actually hurt a member of his sorcerer family. Luckily, there are other ways he can think of to punish you. It's for your own good.

Warnings: Explicit smut, dubcon, possessive behavior, manipulation

Tags: Punishment, edging, orgasm denial, overstimulation, dirty talk, vibrators, bondage, orgasm torture, cunnilingus, humiliation

Word Count: 10.4k

Notes: This story is for @laurenzel. I think this can be almost seen as a companion to my previous Gojo story since there's similar toxic motives and means used by the men, but a difference in method.

“Would you care to join me tonight?” was what Geto said to you, smiling so sweetly, so gently. He said it like an offer, or a question, but you both knew the answer. It was the same as it had been since the very first time he asked, since the first time he kissed you, since the first night you spent together.

And you, finally given direction in the big, confusing world, couldn’t even conceive of saying no to Geto. You didn’t have to do, say, or think anything on your own—just follow him. And you did. Happily, you did, thinking nothing of the offer other than how pleased you were that he asked. 

Chills prickled over your bare arms and legs when you walked into his room. The air felt a few degrees too cool, especially when you were accustomed to the August heat. Everything about his room seemed cold. It was furnished in stark contrast to the simple, traditional temple façade the rest of the complex maintained outwardly. Black painted walls, a hard floor, and ebony furniture upholstered with dark leathers and suedes. There was a flat, modern utilitarianism to the room despite its luxury, all at once inviting and off putting. The silky black sheets and dusky saturation of velvety vanilla and citrus lent a sex appeal to the room that you inextricably associated with Geto.

“Will you help me with this?” he asked, gesturing to his clothes. 

“Yes, of course,” you said, rushing to his side to help him undress. Even though the vestments Geto wore were for show, the articles were genuine and required careful handling. A perfect costume needed to be authentic. You unfastened the kasaya first, hanging it up. 

“I think,” he said while your hands were busy, “we need to talk about what you did.” 

You paused, turning to him with your brow furrowed, your stomach dropping in response to the accusatory tone of his voice. “What did I do?” 

“You killed Kurokawa.” 

Your frown deepened, your chest tightening with a harsh burst of guilt. “How do you know that?” 

Geto raised an eyebrow. That was the wrong thing to ask, it made you look more guilty than you were. Besides, the answer was obvious. He knew everything. You shook your head fast, trying to come up with an explanation that didn’t sound like an excuse. 

 “I… I thought you would be happy I took care of him,” you said. “He was causing trouble. He was a bad man.” 

“If you thought I would be pleased, why didn’t you tell me right away?” 

There were reasons, weren’t there? Good ones, explanations that could help you smooth this over. Beneath the weight of his gaze, you couldn’t think of any of them. “I… I don’t, um…  I was going to, but I didn’t want to distract you or anything. I’m not… I didn’t mean-”

“No. You didn’t tell me because you knew you were wrong,” Geto stated, telling you so directly that you couldn’t help but believe it.  

“I’m sorry,” you said softly. 

“To be clear, I’m not concerned with his death,” Geto told you. “I’m worried about you. About what you might do without my intervention. I have been for a while.”  

“I don’t… I don’t understand,” you said. That was probably the most true thing you could say, the sentiment that defined your existence. You did not understand. 

“I like to think that you’ve grown since you joined the family, but sometimes I don’t know if I can trust you to act with a clear head. Kurokawa was a doctor, wasn’t he?” 

You bristled at the reminder, mentally pushing back on the idea that you did it for such a personal reason. “He was… he was dangerous,” you argued. “He wanted to get the police involved.” 

“That isn’t my point,” Geto explained. “You acted out on your own. I knew Kurokawa was causing problems, but I didn't ask you to kill him. He still had value to me, in his own way." He paused, considering you with pursed lips. "If you told me what you did immediately, maybe I wouldn’t jump to conclusions, but as it is, all this proves is that you haven’t moved beyond your past experiences. I can’t trust you."

You bit your lip, swaying back as if those words had been a physical blow, only becoming more confused. Completely and utterly confused about how killing somebody who was a bad man, killing a hateful monkey upset Geto. You did it for him. You did it because the man was evil, and because he said terrible things, and because he was a hideous embodiment of the type of person who would see you locked up tight in another drug dispensing, mind-numbing, monkey hospital. 

All you could understand was that you had disappointed Geto, and the cutting violence of his doubt cut deep into your chest as physically as a knife. 

“I’m sorry,” you said again.

“Are you going to finish this?” Geto asked rather than acknowledge your apology, pulling at his collar. You nodded, rushing back to his side to untie the obi sash and fold it, helping him shrug off his black yukata to hang that up as well.

Left in a tight undershirt, a pair of loose pants, and socks he was quick to peel off and toss aside, Geto-sama emerged from his costume looking a decade younger and twice as dangerous. Like this, he was Suguru. You weren’t equals, but you were more than a little familiar. Although, you weren’t sure if you would dare to be so friendly with him now that you understood you were in trouble.

Before, you assumed you were here because he desired you. Now that felt presumptuous and silly.   

You averted your eyes and stepped back, waiting for the other shoe to drop. The silence physically hurt. Apologies built up like a dam in your head, stopping any other sort of thought from getting through as guilt brewed and boiled in your stomach. Worse, you couldn’t say he was wrong. Maybe you had knowingly acted against Geto, against the family, because of what Kurokawa represented to you. Maybe you couldn’t be trusted. And, if that was true, maybe you deserved his anger and all of the terrible things that followed anger.     

“Are you nervous?” Suguru asked. 

“No,” you said quickly. 

“Liar. I can hear it. Your heart is racing. You’re scared. Is it me?” He nudged your chin up with the side of his hand, forcing you to meet his eyes and the little smile he wore. “Are you frightened of me?” 

“You’re angry,” you said, shrinking back. “Angry with me.”

“Oh,” Suguru hummed thoughtfully, “so you’re scared that I’m going to punish you. Is that it?” 

Hesitantly, you nodded. 

“You’re right, I am.” 

Your breath caught before you shook your head fast, panicking. “No, you… I’m really sorry. I mean it, I was just trying to… He deserved to die.”

“I understand,” Suguru said, “and I appreciate what you say you were trying to do. The problem is that I don’t believe that was your motive. That is why I’m upset.” He ran his fingers through his hair, putting into a messy bun. “Do you understand the distinction?”

You blinked fast, feeling the horrible bite of tears stinging the corners of your eyes. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now… what do you think would be a fitting punishment?” 

You looked up at him in stark shock, hoping desperately that you misunderstood him. He didn’t clarify anything, simply waiting for you to answer. You shook your head again, your mouth opening and closing before you managed a meek, “I don’t know.” 

“But you agree, don’t you?” he asked, going over to his chest of drawers. Suguru looked at you over his shoulder, eying you up and down, drinking your awkward nerves. “You deserve to be punished for your disobedience.”

You exhaled sharply, conflicted about what kind of answer to give. More importantly, what kind of answer he wanted. If you were smarter, you would be able to talk your way out of this situation. If you were better attuned to Suguru’s needs, you would be able to give him what he wanted. If you were loyal, he wouldn’t have been mad in the first place. Those thoughts weren’t helpful, all you could do was stare and try to solve the puzzle of his mood. You had seen that little smirk on his face when he teased Nanako, but also when he killed non-jujutsu sorcerers that had outlived their usefulness. 

“You’re really asking me?” you finally got out, the only response you could muster.

His back was turned to you now as he looked through the drawer, but you saw his shoulder raise in a casual shrug. “I’m curious.” 

 Your gut instinct was to deny that you deserved punishment to try and spare yourself, but you held that impulse. You had already agreed that you did something wrong, so denying that you deserved punishment could make things worse. Then again, if you agreed, then maybe he would take that as permission to do even worse. Either one could potentially upset him too, because it would prove that you didn’t know what he wanted. Suguru did nothing to alleviate your nervous indecision as he turned around, holding an unmarked red box, watching you with that enigmatic smirk.

“If you think I do,” you said carefully, “then-”

“No,” he said, cutting you off. “I am asking if you acknowledge that you deserve punishment for what you have done.”

“I won’t do it again,” you told him, your voice soft. “I promise.” 

Suguru frowned. “That’s not what I asked.”

“I know, but it’s true,” you insisted. Rather than relent to your distress, his eyes narrowed dangerously, finally giving you some indication about the response he actually wanted. “I do!” You said quickly. “I…” The words were thick like syrup, awkward to get out. “I deserve to be punished.” 

Suguru smiled, setting the box on the bed and sitting on the black leather footboard bench, his legs spread wide and comfortable and head slightly tilted.  

“Are you going to hurt me?” you asked softly.

“Hurt you?” Suguru asked, raising a thin eyebrow. “I would never hurt you. I don’t think you’re likely to learn from pain anyway, hm? It wasn’t effective for your parents or doctors.”

“But… but you said you were going to punish me?” you asked, looking between him and the box with an increasing amount of anxiety. 

“Take off your clothes.”

Your jaw dropped. “I… My… You mean it?” 

He raised both eyebrows, daring you to deny him. You clutched at the front of your dress, your shoulders curling in. 

“But why?” you asked. He immediately gave you a pointed look, like you were stupid. “This… it’s… You want to…?” You couldn’t even finish the question, the whole thing was so divorced from any coherence you could wrap your head around. 

“You're allowed to say no and leave, I won’t stop you,” Suguru told you. He considered that for a moment, his head falling to the side. “If you stay, we’ll switch to your safe word rather than no. You remember it, don’t you?”

Safe word? You remembered him establishing that the first night he allowed you into his bed, but you hadn’t really thought much of it. Why would you ever want him to stop? Now the thought of it made you feel a little cold, and not because of the air conditioner valiantly chugging away in an attempt to keep the August heat at bay. It had taken a few days to come to terms with sleeping with Suguru after it first happened, but this was unreal in an entirely different way. You felt like you were looking down a very long, dark tunnel, like you were hopelessly and utterly lost.   

“I do,” you said faintly. “I remember.” 

“It’s your choice then.” 

You winced, unable to look at him. You weren’t going to leave. That was unthinkable. The idea of undressing in front of him like it was some sort of show wasn’t especially comfortable either, but you understood that you would do it. “That’s… it’s embarrassing.”

“I’ve noticed,” Suguru said. “You don’t want to think of yourself as the type of woman who would strip for a man. But you are, and you will. For me.”

You flushed darker, avoiding his eyes. Trying to keep your breathing from going completely out of control, you nodded. It was easier to obey. You wouldn’t know what you would do if you left his room right now, where you would go, how you would feel. It wasn’t about you, it was about what you had done to disappoint Suguru, and how you would make it right. He wanted to know that you were loyal, that you had left behind the pathetic wretch you used to be. 

Humiliating as it was, he was helping you. That was all he had ever done. 

“Yes, sir.” 

With shaking hands, you unzipped your dress. Considering the summer heat, you were wearing as little as possible. Three articles of clothing separating you from his eyes. You weren’t sure if that was better, making it so the process of undressing wasn’t so drawn out, or worse because it meant you couldn’t stall. 

“Keep going,” Suguru said when you hesitated with your thumbs hooked beneath the waistband of your panties. Closing your eyes, you pushed them down. The only positive you could think of was that you had the foresight to shave the night before. Ever since the first night you slept together you’d been taking personal grooming extremely seriously. Removing your bra was the worst of it all, but you dutifully undid the clasps and pushed the straps down your arms. He had seen you naked before, you reasoned. Even if you were disappointing, he still had asked to see you. It was fine. 

If Suguru wanted it, it was fine.

“You’re too pretty to be so self-conscious,” he told you in a very calm, matter-of-fact way. 

You tried not to shuffle awkwardly, clasping your hands in front of your stomach to hide their shaking. “Thank you,” you said softly, unable to meet his eyes even if you could feel them heavily on your flushing skin. 

“Come here,” Suguru ordered. In your peripheral, you saw his hand raise, a single finger curling to draw you towards him. 

You obeyed on awkward feet, glad to close the distance. He sat up to meet you face to face, having to look up at you for once and pulling you closer. You automatically parted your lips to kiss him. That was something you knew how to do. But his parted lips only brushed the corner of your mouth. When you tried to tilt your head to catch him, Suguru pulled back. Your eyes fluttered open—when had you closed them?—to see him smirking at the little trick. 

“Get on the bed,” he ordered, releasing you.

Nerves knotted and tangled in your stomach. There was something hot about his detached control, but you weren’t sure you liked it either. Vulnerability was discomfort. And still, you knew better than to argue or question. Trying to preserve as much of your modesty as was possible, you got onto his bed. It was easier to comply. Better to be obedient like he wanted. You didn’t want to disappoint him again. 

“These are for you,” Suguru said, finally revealing the contents of the red box by lifting the glossy lid. 

You stared into the box with curiosity, and then with a sharp pang of recognition. After that, nerves. Dread. Excitement. Blinking over and over didn’t change what you saw, there was no mistake about what lay inside. A lot of leather. Some chains. Scarf-like ties. You were pretty sure the wand-shaped item was a vibrator. 

Suguru choked you last time you had sex, and he pinned your wrists down and pulled your hair and left marks on your thighs and chest, but this was different. Dangerous. This was scary. 

“Geto-sama…” you said nervously, sticking to the formal address in the hopes that he would understand the sincerity of your doubt. “I’m not…”

“As I said, you’re allowed to stop this at any time,” he said, dropping the lid back onto the box with a crisp snap. “I would never force you into anything. If you truly feel bad for what you have done and want to prove yourself to me, I shouldn’t need to coerce you.”

Guilt and nerves writhed in your stomach. And excitement, always excitement for the simple reason that it was Suguru. You would do anything for him, wouldn’t you? He had saved you. You disappointed him, it was only right that you did as you were told. You pushed the lid off again, forcing a sort of resolve. Your heart beat like a frantic war drum in your chest, and you were flushing so hotly it felt like a fever. 

“What’s this all for?” you asked, your voice hoarse. 

“You won’t be able to hold still on your own,” he replied simply. “Besides, I think you’ll look sexy like this. I was waiting for an opportunity to try it.” 

The bottom of your stomach gave way to anxious lust. You licked your lips, trying to calm yourself down. 

“Okay,” you said softly. 

“Put them on for me,” Suguru said, pulling out four of the leather cuffs. Your eyes widened, your lips parting to argue that as a step too far. It would be so much easier for you if he did it himself, if you didn’t have to actively engage with putting yourself in a literal bind. 

Although maybe that was the point. This was punishment. 

Prove your loyalty. You could do that for him. 

Despite your forced mental affirmation, the whole task seemed too daunting for a moment, you had a nervously suffocating sense like drowning, but you forced that down. You would do anything for Suguru. That’s what this was about. Proving to him that you were loyal, that you would do as he said. That you were devoted.  

You did the wrist cuffs first, slipping the first over your left hand and tightening the strap with your right. There was only one size; they would fit snugly. Thick chains hung from both cuffs. Although they weren’t as bad as pure metal bracelets, the leather wouldn’t be kind to your skin if you resisted too much. Tightening the strap on the right cuff was even worse since you were working with your non-dominant hand. 

“Do you need help?” Suguru asked, laughing at your frustrated attempts to get the tongue through the buckle. 

“Don’t laugh, please,” you begged, talking very softly to hide your increasingly unstable emotions. “I’m trying.” 

“Here,” he said indulgently, “let me.” Suguru held out his hands for you to let him finish securing the cuff. “Do you need help with your ankles?”

“No, I… Thank you,” you said, unable to look at his expression. You could do this. You had to do this. 

Still, your hands trembled unsteadily. When you nervously fumbled with the leather strap around your ankle, he laughed again. 

“Don’t look,” you mumbled. The chains hanging from your wrists playfully clinked against the chains on your ankles.  

“I have to make sure you do it properly. You could hurt yourself.”

“It’s embarrassing,” you whispered, more petulant than anything.  

“I know,” Suguru told you sweetly, “but you’ve been such a good girl so far.” 

Your breath caught at the praise. At the very least, he looked away to pull off his shirt. You used the distraction to get your ankles secured, watching him remove his pants with your hands between your legs to retain some modesty. Suguru, stripped to his boxers, surveyed your handiwork, a little smile growing on his face.

“What?” you asked nervously. 

“Given how shy you are, I thought it would take more than this to convince you to do this for me. I don’t know if I’m disappointed or impressed.”

You frowned with a twisting sense of betrayal, but he cut off your displeasure by grabbing your legs to yank you towards him, leaning over the bed so he could kiss you.  

Before Suguru, you hadn’t really understood what the point of kissing was. It was an act of affection you mirrored with others because it was what people did. When Suguru licked your lips open for himself, you understood. Any touch of his body against yours had a potent effect, but the openly intimate domination of his tongue against yours, his fingers slipping up your hair to tilt your head, the hand on your bare waist, it was enough to clear your mind all over again. Igniting the purest type of motivation—lust. 

You wanted to show him your devotion. You wanted him to know you were sorry. You clung to his shoulders, hoping he could feel it.

All too soon, Suguru pulled back, his lips hovering inches from your own. You tried to follow, but he held you in place by your hair. 

“I’m impressed,” he said, answering his comment from before. “I admire your dedication. I only wish it extended to your actions. I can’t trust you until I know you obey me.”

“I do,” you said. “I…I will.” 

“Not yet.” Suguru didn’t wait for your response, pressing a chaste kiss on your lips, your cheek, and then tilting your head to whisper in your ear. “Move back. I’ll take care of the rest,” he told you, his husky voice making you shudder.

“Yes, sir,” you muttered so softly you wondered if he heard you. When Suguru pulled away, you scooted back to sit in the center of his bed, waiting and watching with equal parts nerves and anticipation. He picked through the red box again, pulling out another set of leather cuffs and a bundle of those silky scarves. 

“Open your legs,” he ordered in a business-like voice as he joined you on the bed, crawling up to you and readying one of the leather straps. The sudden shift of tone surprised you, throwing you off all over again. 

“What’s that?” you asked nervously. He gave you a sharp look and you relented, opening your legs. Being exposed so brazenly made your skin crawl, but he paid no attention to your naked body, wrapping the strap around your thigh and fastening it, repeating the process on your other leg. 

“What is it that the monkey said to upset you?” Suguru asked casually as he tested the straps for give, deeming them satisfactory. The conversational tone burst your bubble of rose tinged intimacy, sending your thoughts back to unpleasant places. “I assume something set you off.” 

“I… um…” As if revealing a magic trick, he unwound a length of the red scarf-like fabric, distracting you from a question you hadn’t really understood in the first place.

“Or did he try to attack you?” Suguru pushed, neatly doubling the scarf and pulling it around your back. He had to sit close as he blindly tied the knot and the cashmeran twilight scent of his skin filled your senses, you held your breath when he pulled away just to keep it close for a moment longer. 

“Have you done this before?” you asked as he wound the scarf around your chest and shoulders with a practiced hand, searching for a distraction from the embarrassment. 

“Does it bother you if I have?” Suguru asked. 

“No, sir.” 

He had to lean forward again to fasten the final knot on your back. “You didn’t answer my question,” he said softly. “What happened?” 

You winced. “He called me delusional. He said I’m just a… a bitch in your harem, and that I’d go down with you.” 

“I see,” Suguru said, pulling back, his expression impassive. 

“I’m really sorry, Geto-sama,” you said. 

“Are you worried he’s right?” Suguru asked, his voice so saccharinely sweet it had to be mocking. 

“I don’t… I don’t know.” 

“You are special to me,” Suguru told you sweetly, petting your hair. 

“You’re special to me too,” you said, eager to try and express your adoration. “Very, very special.” 

“I’m doing this because you’re so special to me. I can help you grow, and help you move on. I can show you the benefits of an honest life without the petty influence of the weak, but I cannot force your obedience. I need you to choose to listen to me, to obey me.”

“That is my choice,” you said. 

“Haven’t you heard the phrase ‘actions speak louder than words’?” Suguru countered, revealing the final trick of his little magic show. The chains on your wrists connected to those on your ankles with a few inches of slack, your ankle cuffs connected to the straps on your thighs, and the loose ends of scarves from the harness he had just finished tying were threaded into the D-rings on your thigh straps. Unable to balance upright, you rolled onto your back, fully exposed and unable to do much of anything about it. “This is your chance to make amends.” 

Suguru put his hand on your bare chest, right above your racing heart as it beat against your ribs. “You’re scared again,” he said. “I told you I wouldn’t hurt you. Do you not believe that?” 

“I’m just…” you squirmed uncomfortably, unable to articulate what you felt. You didn’t know what you felt, couldn’t figure out anything beyond the intensely physical embarrassment and the panicked disquiet of being bound and exposed.  

“You know what to do to make this stop,” he pointed out, his hand dragging down your chest to your flinching stomach. “Just say the word, and I’ll let you leave.”

Suguru told you that almost like it was a joke. He was daring you to use the safe word and stop him, to show him that you weren’t as devoted as you claimed. His hand reached your pelvis and you whimpered, your hips wiggling in an undecided way. Did you want him to touch you, or were you nervous for that part? You couldn’t tell. The feelings were the same. 

He finally dropped over you, both of his hands resting on your ass before brushing up your thighs, pressing them further apart as he kissed you with an open mouth. Suguru’s tongue urgently met yours, teasing enough to invite your active and enthusiastic participation. To show him how much you wanted him. Of course you did. 

With a surprising bite on your lower lip, Suguru left your mouth to move down, licking and kissing his way across your jaw, following the line of your neck. He stopped there, sucking hard right above your pulse until you shuddered hard, making a soft, helpless noise. Your hands anxiously jerked, but all that did was snap the chains taut. Taking his time, his hand trailed down your thigh, his fingernails scraping the skin, until he reached your pussy. 

When Suguru’s fingers made contact with the sensitive flesh, you yelped, and he bit your neck hard enough to draw that yelp out into a pathetic keen. Your attempt to free your hands so you could push him back served only to pull your legs open wider. 

“Was that too much?” Suguru asked, lightly tracing your slit. 

“Hurts,” you said, your breathing hard and fast. He chuckled warmly, finding your clit and tracing little circles over it, just teasing. You whimpered. 

“You don’t mind, do you?” He asked, his lips brushing your skin as he moved down your chest. 

You made a choked, conflicted sound in your throat, any coherent response leaving your head the second his mouth closed around your nipple. Electric pulses of pleasure zipped down to your core, made that much more intense by the fingers on your clit. Suguru added more pressure against it, the weight sweetened by the friction of his calloused fingertips. Your hips rolled into the touch, your back arching for every delicious movement of his tongue or teeth on your nipple. 

A hoarse wail left your mouth when he released you with a wet pop, moving to do the same to your other nipple. His fingers were truly grinding against your clit at this point. It wasn’t the sweet enticement of pleasure, but a brute force motion that guaranteed you would come fast. 

You whined and moaned and shuddered, fighting the restraints. Sweat slicked up your skin, chafing beneath the restraints as you jerked, your body going taut to prepare for the sudden orgasm. You managed a choked, “I can’t, I can’t, I-” And then that tension snapped. It was good, but the rush was too fast and fleeting, fizzling itself out before you could savor the feeling. All it really did was make you want more.

With another lewdly wet pop, Suguru pulled off your nipple and sat up, his hand retreating from between your legs. “How did that feel?” he asked.

You swallowed, nodding fast. “‘s good. Tha-aa-nk you, sir.” 

“It’s interesting to me how much more sensitive girls are after coming,” Suguru said, teasing you with his fingers lightly tracing over your slit. “It’s almost obscene. Men need time, but you already want more, don’t you?” 

You shuddered, panting and flushed. “Yes. Yes, please.”

He smirked, although you couldn’t say you really understood the joke. Your entire body twitched, the chains clinking, and he licked his lips, looking at your flushed body like he was eying up a meal. 

Your eyes squeezed shut when he ran two fingers from your entrance, dragging a smear of slick arousal up to your clit. 

“No, don’t close your eyes,” Suguru said, beginning to draw patterns over your swelling clit. “Look at me.” 

You nodded, opening your eyes and meeting his gaze despite how overwhelming it was to be watched while he touched you so intimately. You squirmed, inhaling sharply through your teeth, already feeling the tantalizing build. 

“What about you?” you asked. “You don’t have to, um… um…” Blinking fast, breathing hard, your words scattered like dust and you felt the same tightening in your core, the sparkling promise of release. At the exact moment you were about to come again, Suguru pressed his hand flat between your legs, denying you that final push over the edge. 

Whining and desperate and so, so close, your hips bucked upward, desperate to come again. It was already too late, out of your grasp. “Geto-sama, please, I was-”

“No,” he said simply. 

“What?” 

“No. I’m not going to let you come again. I’ve already given you one more than you deserve.”

“No,” you whispered, horrified. “You… You can’t.” 

“No?” he repeated, his fingers tracing your clit slowly, with the barest amount of pressure. “You remember why I’m doing this, don’t you? I’m punishing you.” He pressed more intently against your clit. Unable to comprehend denial, your body began the process of drawing up tight. “You need to learn to be obedient. You have to learn to take whatever I see fit to give you.” 

“I am,” you gasped out. “I do, I-I will, I’m…” Your back arched, your arms and legs falling aside as if to make an offering of your body in the hopes that he would let you come this time. “I’m sorry that I… that I did that,” you babbled, your pussy tightening around nothing as your body got ready to come. “I’m really… really… I’m-” 

Suguru stopped just when you were on the precipice again, tapping your folds as if to mock your need. You squinted at him, your chest hitching a heavy breath, tears pricking your eyes. “But I said… Oh…” You didn’t finish what you were saying, too distracted by the slick slide of his fingers inside of you. So good. You swallowed hard, your cunt squeezing his fingers desperately as his fingers curled, dragging against your g-spot as they pulled out before thrusting forward. 

“If your words meant anything, you wouldn’t need to be punished in the first place,” Suguru pointed out, although you weren’t paying very close attention, your body awkwardly trying to roll into his fingers as they slowly fucked you. He touched your clit with his other hand, once again ensuring that you would come quickly. 

Too quickly, really. The intensity of pleasure shocked you, especially since you were so sensitive, desperate for more. “Please, can I… will you please… Please?” you begged, your animal need curbed slightly by fear. 

“You should know that no other man will do this for you,” Suguru said. “No one else will ever care for you the way I do.”

You nodded fast, knowing that was the truth. No other person in the world had ever been as kind or compassionate to you as Suguru. Nobody had ever wanted you, or made you feel important, or given you purpose. You loved him. You felt that affection swell alongside your building orgasm. 

He would let you come this time, he wasn’t slowing down. His fingers made a sickening wet schlick as they pumped in and out of your pussy, working in time with the finger on your clit. You were there, your body taut and ready and desperate and-

A wail escaped you when he stopped at the last moment, your entire body jerking in desperation to reclaim your ruined orgasm. As soon as it was gone, he returned to touching you in the same way, vigorously chasing you back to the edge and abandoning you seconds before you could get off. 

“Please,” you begged.

“I told you no,” Suguru reminded you, adding a third finger to pump and curl into your pussy as if to punctuate the cruel statement. You were off the edge now, but your body still stupidly strove to take more pleasure. You blinked tears, confused and needy and trembling, your breathing shallow. 

“Why?” 

He didn’t answer, he didn’t need to. The touch on your clit had you throwing your head back, your nostrils flared and teeth clenched. Chains clicked together when you tried to free your arms, but it was a fruitless struggle. You didn’t want to respond to his touch in the same way, you needed a reprieve, but there was no escape. You were sensitive. Your body remembered coming once, and that was enough of an incentive to try to get more. 

“You can always stop me,” Suguru said. “If it becomes too much.”

“It’s…” you told him, although your attempt to seem brave was weakened by your breathy, pathetic voice. “I’m… I can take whatever you give me. I’m…” You sobbed, overwhelmed by the drag of his fingers against your g-spot. He barely had to put any pressure on your clit, it was so swollen beneath his teasing fingers. “Please, sir. I just… Just one, please?”

“I already let you come once,” he reminded you, amused. 

You moaned miserably, your head tossing back and forth as you readied yourself for another orgasm. You hoped that maybe if you could just come before he noticed, then that would be enough to soothe the horrible ache, the fearful deprivation he kept stoking to a blaze. 

It was there, right at your fingertips, on the tip of your tongue, and Suguru hummed happily when he suddenly pulled his fingers out of you. You shouted, thrashing against your bindings. They all held, keeping you helpless beneath him. 

“Please, I… please.” 

“No,” Suguru said, slowly pushing just one finger into you. You sobbed when he used it to massage your g-spot. Not giving you any real pressure or weight or friction, just that constant reminder of the pleasure you had been denied.

“I can’t,” you said tearfully, straining to get more out of that single finger like a starving woman being thrown crumbs. 

“You can,” Suguru told you. His word was gospel. It didn’t matter what you thought. 

He pulled his finger out before you could get too used to it, only to return with three. You choked, your body jerking hard enough against the restraints to hurt, suddenly thrown into high gear as he properly finger-fucked you, bouncing your entire body. 

It didn’t matter that he wasn’t touching your clit, you could get off just on this. Your body was thrumming with denied pleasure and you wanted it so bad you could scream. 

“Yes, yes, please, yes—No!” 

You were properly sobbing this time when he stopped, almost horrified by the intensity of your body’s disappointment when his fingers pulled out. You had no idea how he was getting the timing so perfect, but it was worse than if he was just hurting you. Suguru shoved his fingers into your open mouth while you were still reeling, smearing the taste of your pussy onto your tongue. You didn’t need his instruction to suck on them, hoping that the display of thoughtless obedience would earn you some leniency.   

“Good girl,” he cooed, pushing his fingers deeper into your mouth, almost enough to make you choke. When he pulled them out, he didn’t linger, kissing a line down your stomach. Your arms fought the restraints when you realized his intentions because you weren’t sure you could handle feeling his mouth on you like this, not if he was going to keep denying you. 

“No,” you whined. “Please, I… I can’t…” 

“Yes, you can,” Suguru said calmly, not even bothering to look up at you.

A heavy, almost guttural moan left your mouth when his tongue licked past your folds, tossing you right back into the abyss of lustful need. All he had to do was brace his forearm across the backs of your thighs and you were unable to do anything, your trapped arms and legs twitching, your feet kicking uselessly into the empty air, the chains connecting them to your wrists clicking. 

Suguru was good at this, switching between flat-tongued licks and pointed patterns, closing his lips around your clit until you were choking out these pathetic little chirps, your body reacting in a way entirely out of your control. 

And when you were there, right at the very edge, he pressed a kiss to your clit and looked up at you from beneath his dark eyelashes. 

You sobbed, throwing your head back in a childish display of disappointment. 

“You’re alright. Breathe,” Suguru said.

“Please,” you begged.

Suguru hummed as he lowered his head, shaking it side to side with his tongue flat against your clit. Your toes curled, your hands forming pathetic fists.  

It didn’t take much to build you up all over again, your entire body was wired and ready. You didn’t think you had ever felt so aware of yourself. Your skin, your pussy, your heart, your body, everything crackled and blazed. What was he doing, drawing kanji with his tongue? You didn’t know, but it felt amazing. You chased that feeling knowing you shouldn’t, thinking that maybe this time, maybe if you were fast enough. Maybe, maybe, maybe-

“No, please, I just wanna…” Suguru’s tongue stilled and he pulled away, watching you fall apart at yet another denied orgasm. “No!”

He casually pressed two fingers into you, massaging them against that spongy spot with a wet squish that was beyond obscene. “You know what to say to make me stop,” he told you.

“I know,” you said, wishing you could cover your face, wishing for some point of sanity here in this lust-mad haze. “I don’t want… Please, Geto-sama, I just wanna come, please.”

“Oh?” he said, his other hand returning to rest on your pelvic bone to playfully tease your clit. “Do you think you deserve that?” 

“I…” You tried desperately to figure out the correct answer by looking at his expression, but you couldn’t tell and his hands kept you distracted. Deserve didn’t matter, all you could think was that you wanted to come. “Yes?” you said, hoping very much that was the correct response, practically praying for the torment to end. His fingers slowed and you let out an embarrassing little keen. “Ah… No, no I…” His expression still didn’t change, leaving you scrambling. Your chest hiccupped with a sob, your confused spiral boiling down to the pit of desperate need. “I don’t know.”  

Rather than respond, Suguru’s head lowered between your legs once more to tongue your clit in time with his fingers. You felt a hot rush of hope that you got something right, that he was finally going to let you come. Your entire body surged towards the feeling, going so stiff that it made your trembling muscles ache. 

And there, right on the edge, he stopped. You didn’t have it within you to do anything other than cry, openly weeping at this point. If he were only teasing you it would be one thing, but he was purposefully working you right up to the edge and then abandoning you there. It was the feeling of being unable to sneeze amplified to a million, that torturous feeling of almost.  

“I’ll do anything, please,” you told him, your voice coming out broken.

“Are you saying you wouldn’t before?” Suguru asked. You opened your mouth to argue, only to realize that it didn’t matter. Nothing you said or did mattered, you were helpless to him. You had already surrendered everything else, the only thing you could do was obey and hope for his mercy.  

You understood. He didn’t want you to beg. He wanted you to obey. To be good for him without question. 

You could do that. 

Suguru pushed his fingers back into you, repeating the whole process of working you up and abandoning you again. And again. And then he added his mouth. There were several times in your life you’d been pushed to the absolute brink of sanity, and right then you were convinced that you were going to go mad. But you grit your teeth and endured it. You had to. This was your punishment, and Suguru would decide when to end your misery. 

You had to be good for him.  

Had you ever been this wet? Swollen too, all of your blood flowing dangerously hot between your legs. It was disgusting, your pussy was sloppy and red and he barely had to touch your clit at all to build you right up to that edge. And it was just as easy to let you fall, disappointed and unfulfilled and growing increasingly, painfully distraught from the denial. 

You beat your fists pathetically against the bed, hitting your head into the pillow like a madman. Air puffed out of your chest fast and hard enough to make your head spin, like there wasn’t enough oxygen in the room. 

Rather than continue the torture, Suguru grabbed your chin, dragging you out of your spiraling haze. His fingers were slick from being inside of you. You met his eyes through a veil of tears. “Have you had enough?” he asked, his voice wavering with a parody of pity. “I’m worried you’re going to hyperventilate.” 

You blinked fast, trying to gather the coherence to respond. “I can… I can take it,” you told him with a miserable sort of resolve, your voice thin and breathless. 

Suguru smiled. “Really? And if I said I intended to leave you like this, perhaps to go find a way to fix the mess you made?” 

The thought was enough to make you sob. His attention was torturously uncomfortable, but being completely denied any resolution, being left bound and soaking wet and electrified with unfulfilled need, you almost would have rathered he hit you. 

But you nodded, forcing yourself to accept it. Anything less would be to reject his authority over you, right? It would make you seem less loyal. “Anything,” you whispered.

“Ah, that look in your eyes is wonderful,” he cooed. “You mean it, don’t you?” 

You nodded insistently. “I love you,” you told him, speaking without thought, saying it because it was true. “I’ll do… I’ll do anything.”

“Okay, I’ll let you come,” Suguru said, releasing your face so his hand could wander back down between your legs. 

You made a weak noise, your body unconsciously jerking, straining towards him. 

It was pathetic, he barely had to do anything, simply brushing his flat fingers in light circles over your swollen clit. And that was enough. Fear flooded your insides alongside the same frantic, hot rush of pleasure. All of your muscles contracted in a mass of sore, shaking muscles and bestial desperation because you were afraid he would stop again, afraid that he would deny you and there would be no recourse other than pathetic acceptance.

“Please, please, I-I love you,” you plead, your voice whispery, rough and desperate, borderline incoherent.

And he didn’t stop. 

That wet, hot snap of release was one of the best things you had ever felt. You convulsed, chains clicking and leather chafing against your skin and his name spilling from your lips over and over. He worked you right through the orgasm. You were crying again, sobbing and shaking and sticky hot. It felt good. It felt like forgiveness. 

“Another?” Suguru asked. Your eyes had been shut, but now they opened to see his smile.

You just shook your head, lacking the capacity to respond. 

He didn’t wait, pushing three fingers into you while teasing your clit with his other hand. It forced your body through a surprisingly uncomfortable rubbery mixture of overstimulation and mindless need. It left you feeling like an elastic band being stretched and stretched. In spite of that feeling, a few solid, harsh pumps later and you were coming again, your pussy squeezing his fingers to keep them there while he worked you through it. There was very little drama to it, you were already wrung out. But it was good. Hot and wet and good. 

Suguru didn’t stop. You fought the restraints, wanting to move, to writhe, to get more comfortable, to take some control back because you needed a moment to collect yourself. 

“I really-” It was hard to speak. Hard to form the words. Hard to get them out. “Oh God, I—ah.”

Almost painfully sensitive, the rough pounding of his fingers against your g-spot started to register as too much. You fought the restraints, a different sort of panic setting in. To keep your body from rejecting the pleasure of his touch, Suguru doubled down against your clit, pressing a little harder. You had been starving, but now you were splitting full from the assault pleasure. 

“Too—oo much,” you got out through your teeth, although it probably didn’t seem like it was too much when your back was arching accordingly, your pussy clamping down around his relentless fingers, that coiling buildup of release reaching its apex. 

Your mouth opened in a silent scream, your fingers and toes clawing helplessly at the sheets as you came, practically choking on the hot feverish intensity of your orgasm. 

“No, it’s not,” Suguru told you. His fingers slowed at least, and then pulled out. It wasn’t much of a reprieve, he immediately shuffled down the bed so he could situate his head back between your thighs. 

You hissed, tensing up, your arms jerking against the restraints. Your clit was too sensitive for his tongue, he had to understand that. “You… You don’t… Have to,” you got out, your voice unsteady from how hard you were panting. “I don’t need-” 

“Don’t worry,” Suguru said sweetly. “I’m not doing this for you.”

The wet, warm patterns he drew on your clit with his tongue sent you into a sort of delirium. No matter how sensitive you thought you were, it was intoxicatingly good. He focused entirely on what made your hips try to jump, what made you moan and whine. When he slipped two fingers into your pussy at the same time, you felt ready to lose it entirely. You were falling apart. Splitting at the seams. You came with a harsh cry, Weeping at the fizzling heat of pleasure. 

Suguru didn’t stop. He just hummed and flattened his tongue and kept going, forcing you right past that sickening few seconds of sensory rejection and towards another orgasm. You could do it. You focused on that because even if you weren’t entirely sure you wanted more, you wanted to be good for him. How ungrateful would it be to not come when he was kind enough to eat you out? 

Covered in the sickly shine of sweat and shaking so uncontrollably that it felt like the world itself was trembling, you came again.  

When he was content you were done, Suguru stopped, pulling his fingers out with a final brush against your g-spot to make you whine, your body mindlessly writhing. He sat up, brushing back strands of sweaty black hair with the back of his hand. 

You wilted in place, closing your eyes to focus on your breathing while he messed with something else. It was hard to collect yourself, but you could already tell that you would be sore tomorrow. 

Hearing the shift of fabric, you opened your eyes to see Suguru remove his boxers. Despite your messily deteriorated state, the sight of his cock roused enough of your mind to focus. He was hard, the red-flushed head bobbed as he casually stroked himself which might have been for your benefit. Despite the sensory overload, your pussy tightened in anticipation of feeling him inside of you. If he fucked you and you did good enough to make him come, then you would be done. That was, at the very least, an end goal. One more thing you could endure for him, and then he would forgive you. 

Suguru looked down at you with a fond smile, an expression that seemed more than a little cruel when he was stroking his dick, when he knew fully well that you were painfully oversensitive and this would make it that much worse. 

“Should I make you beg?” he asked warmly, tapping the head against your painfully sensitive folds. You whimpered, squirming. You weren’t entirely sure you wanted this, and he probably knew that, but maybe that was the point. It didn’t matter, you wanted him, you wanted to be good for him, and that superseded every other thing you felt. 

“Please, Geto-sama,” you begged, defaulting to the formal address because you needed him to accept it, because he was your lord and master in every way except by name, because you adored him and worshiped him, and you needed him to understand that. “Fuck me, please. I’m yours.”

“So vulgar,” he said, sliding his cock up and down through the wet, sloppy mess he’d made of your pussy. “I wonder what happened to the sweet, innocent girl you used to be.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, shaking your head. “Please.”

“I’m kidding,” Suguru told you, bracing one hand on your thigh to force your hips to curl while lining up his cock. “Aren’t you going to beg?”

“Please-”

“No, no. Look at me.”

You forced your eyes open, forced yourself to look up at him through tear-covered lashes. “Please, Geto-sama. Please, I’m yours.” 

It was nothing for him to push in. You were wet and eager and it felt good. The feeling of his cock popping past the initial barrier of muscle and driving deeper into your pussy was one of the most uniquely pleasurable sensations you had ever felt, no matter what the context. It gave you the sort of fullness nothing could replicate, physically grounded you in a way nothing else ever had. 

Since you were watching, you got to see his expression slacken into one of pleasure. Your pussy fluttered and squeezed, just making room for him. 

You gave up keeping your eyes open as he drove himself even deeper, throwing your head back to just take it, to ignore the discomfort of his cock grinding against what felt like raw nerves. Suguru braced his hands on your thighs as he rocked his hips, taking his time. 

“What does it feel like?” he asked. 

“Good,” you said quickly, your tongue feeling loose like you were drunk. “So… So good.” 

“I want to feel you come again,” he said. “You don’t mind, right?” 

Your eyes fluttered open in confusion, shutting when he suddenly snapped his hips forward. “I can’t,” you whined. “Not again.”  

“You can,” Suguru told you, grinding his cock as far into as he could, pressing as deep as possible, deep enough to make you whimper and writhe. Could he feel that? Could he feel the way you were shaking all the way down to your bones, feel the way your heart raced and fluttered and skipped? 

And then you heard it turn on. When you heard the buzzing, your brain was wildly scattered enough that you thought it was an electric toothbrush which made no sense whatsoever. When he pressed the vibrator directly to your clit, you yelped, trying to buck it off but only serving to grind yourself into his cock. 

A few little circles with the thing against your clit was all it took for you to choke, your body seizing up with another orgasm. You were acutely aware of the way it caused your cunt to squeeze and suck his cock, coating it in a fresh wave of arousal as he pulled out, making a horrible wet slap when he thrust back in. 

Suguru groaned, keeping the vibrator directly on your clit as he chose a slow, steady pace. 

“I can’t,” you tried to tell him, squirming and writhing with renewed vigor as your body started to tense up to come again. You couldn’t stop it and of course it felt good but it was too much, almost burning. You could handle it. If you came again it would hurt, especially coming with his cock grinding so persistently into your overly sensitive cunt. 

“I thought you were being good,” Suguru said, rewarding you with a heavy, harsh thrust that made you wail. And another. That sent you over the edge, whimpering and shaking and incoherent with the overwhelming influx of heat and tingling overstimulation. Like the brittle snap when breaking a glow stick, or taking a crisp, juicy bite of an apple. It should have been good, but all you could feel was the wet, helpless violation of something ruined. 

Suguru moaned openly, driving himself deep enough for his hips to slap your ass with each heavy thrust. Your head whipped from side to side, the only form of protest left to you. He kept moving the vibrator to make sure you didn’t get too accustomed to any one type of stimulation. It was torture. Horrible torture. You wouldn’t have thought coming could be so agonizing, and yet when you drew up for another sharp, shuddery orgasm you couldn’t recognize it as anything else. 

“Is this better or worse than before?” Suguru asked, his words stuttered with each hard thrust. 

“I don’t… I can’t…” You couldn’t think. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t do anything except convulse and cry and come. Again. 

You didn’t understand. 

“You don’t know?” he asked, breathy yet amused. “You’ll have to—to tell me later.” 

The problem was that you had no place to think. You were too full. Suguru continued fucking you hard and steady. All you could hear was the slick slapping of wet skin and that infernal buzzing. There was so much weight behind every movement, like he was trying to batter his way into your womb. Each thrust was followed by a whimper or moan or cry. And the relentless vibrator against your clit. It hurt. It burned. 

“I don’t… don’t…” 

“You’re… not done,” Suguru told you, his voice heavy and breaking with exertion. “Come again.” 

You weren’t sure if you were actually crying anymore, or just sobbing and panting and so sweaty it felt like you were crying. You couldn't form any coherent words, or even incoherent rejections. So you obeyed, the taste of blood on your tongue and stars dotting your vision, your pussy burning and inner walls pulsing around his cock as you came again. Suguru groaned, his lovely lips parted and eyes closed. 

“One more,” he demanded. “Just… Just one… More.” That word was punctuated with a hard thrust and an especially cruel grind of the vibrator against your overstimulated clit. There was no point in saying no, or even believing it wasn’t possible. He knew more than you did. You didn’t know anything. 

With a miserable whine, you came again, although at this point it felt like there was just a long, helpless flow of overstimulation marked with waves of overbearing heat, and then your pussy tightened around his cock and it dragged cruelly against your g-spot, and that was all you could manage before you were tossed back into the mindless daze of agonizing excess.

“Even though it hurts, you’re…” He didn’t finish that breathless thought, although his amused smile went away when his hips suddenly stuttered and he fell forward, his forearm resting by your shoulder. 

Mercifully, Suguru shut the vibrator off, letting it fall somewhere to the side, bracing his other arm on the bed next to you as he sought his own end. Your arms and legs fell to the side, slack except for when your muscles spasmed or jerked. Every thrust added to the relentless cycle of too much, especially from this angle, you could feel the way your body worked itself up to come again, responding to his pleasure as if it were your own. 

“Geto-sama… Suguru please,” you begged and there was a chance he couldn’t make out that you were attempting to form actual words, but even with your sanity fraying at the edges from his torture, you wanted him to come. You wanted to know there was a reason for your complete unraveling, that you had a real, good purpose, some sort of justification to exist. 

Suguru forced your knees all the way up to your chest, pushing his cock as deep as possible as he came, working himself through it with shallow thrusts and these intoxicatingly sexy stuttered moans. Distantly, beyond the hellish, sweaty shell of your shaking body, you had the distinct thought that everything was worth it just to hear him moan like that. Just to be rewarded by his pleasure. Because you loved him. Because you belonged to him. Both of you were flushed hot and disturbingly slick with sweat and it hurt for him to be pushing so deep. Out of all the little cruelties he had subjected you to, the fact that you were unable to hold onto him like you wanted was one of the worst. 

When Suguru pulled out, that hurt too. Every part of your body hurt. He left you to fall bonelessly limp onto the bed, rolling around to lay next to you. 

In the relative quiet, your ears rang with a tinny discordance, paired with the engine roar of rushing blood. Your tongue was sandpaper in your mouth—little wonder, you had no idea how you had any liquid left in your body—and your limbs hurt from being stuck in the bound position for so long, but you couldn’t say you wanted to do anything to fix those things. As soon as the severity of those discomforts occurred to you, so were they carried away by the lapping tide of exhaustion. You felt like a sponge that had been squeezed dry. That’s probably what you looked like too.   

“I didn’t expect it to be so… Difficult to contain myself,” Suguru mused softly. You didn’t respond, marveling at his voice. It was very nice. So soothing and smooth. Perfect, just like every other part of him. “It’s wrong, but necessary. You never learned the right way to live, I have to guide you. Otherwise you could hurt yourself. You could hurt our family.” There was more conviction in those words, like he was trying to argue against a point you hadn’t made. 

Even if you were to be unbound, you wouldn’t dare close your legs. You couldn’t feel his cum slipping out, maybe you were too swollen. That would explain the painful heat. 

“I wish I didn’t have to make my point like this,” Suguru continued. “But I'll do whatever it takes for you to get it.” 

Mute confusion was the only thing you had left—you were barely aware enough to listen to what he was saying, let alone divine any meaning from the words. Your body hurt and you were thirsty and sweaty and tired. You didn’t think anything. You couldn’t do anything. You couldn’t say anything. It wasn’t even confusion, it was just pure exhaustion. 

“Ah, you’re a mess,” Suguru said, sitting up. You groaned in disapproval when he started messing with the straps around your thighs, taking them off. Without the harness's support, your legs dropped limp onto the bed. Still, you didn’t move. You couldn’t fathom moving. “Hey,” he chided, “don’t go to sleep.”

You grunted unhappily. 

“Will you open your eyes?” Suguru asked, touching your fever-hot cheek. After a second, you did, meeting his gaze with your own dazed, blank stare. His expression was tender, you thought. So kind, so sweet, so gentle. “I need you to listen to me now, hm?” 

You made a sound to show that you were listening, looking up at his beautiful face with a marveling sort of adoration. Suguru really was beautiful. It was little wonder so many people thought he was a holy man. He undid the chains keeping your hands and ankles connected, letting your arms flop lifelessly into the sweaty sheets.

“I forgive you,” Suguru told you, his eyes scanning your body slowly, taking in the sweat and the reddish flush and the twitching, trembling of your muscles with some kind of affection. “But, and I need you to remember this,” he continued, his eyes returned to yours, “next time you disobey me, it will be worse.”

Worse? You couldn’t imagine worse. The idea of worse made your eyes sting, panic threatening to crawl back out of the abyss of your exhaustion to send you into a fit of tears.

You blinked and swallowed against your dry throat. “I’ll be… be good, I promise,” you said in a voice that was little more than a hoarse croak. 

“Shhh,” Suguru shushed softly, brushing your damp hair off of your sweaty forehead. “Don’t be scared. Everything I do, I do because I love you. You are precious to me, you know that, don’t you?”

Those words worked like ether sweet anesthesia through your head and you believed him, loved him, trusted him. He did this because he loved you, and because you needed to learn. Of course. That made sense even if nothing else did. 

[susansontag]

I’ve always shied away from discussing ikuhara’s usage of incest in utena because it’s quite a sticky topic in shoujo manga and anime but also because those uninitiated with that are likely to assume his using it is somehow perverted and will have a knee-jerk reaction. but I think he’s honestly very clever with it, using it both on a metaphorical level to elicit sympathy for the characters and their romanticised notions of these relationships but also on a literal level to show the dangers and abuse inherent in these kinds of relationships.

nanami is the most obvious example. even though we as an audience may not understand her almost romantic fixation on attracting the attentions of her older brother touga, we can still sympathise with her behaviour on a metaphorical level; she is thirteen, she is lonely, he is her entire world and the world is taking him, and thus her childhood, away from her and she is helpless to stop this. nanami is not perverse, she is trying to secure control over a situation in which she has none. a more common and relatable example is when one feel as though they, their siblings, their parents, etc, revert back to the dynamics they solidified in childhood when they spend time as a family unit. it’s a phenomenon that can be irritating (‘they’re treating me like a child’) but also comforting, familiar, and certain.

yearning to remain in a permanent state of pre-adolescence is something a lot of different characters in utena contend with, albeit in different ways, but hers is so interesting because ikuhara decides she must at one point be met with the reality of what this would mean if taken to its extreme. nanami understands akio is abusing anthy before utena does, and draws strict lines between what those ‘perverse’ siblings are doing and her pure love for touga. yes, she lacks sympathy for anthy outwardly, but her horror at confronting incestuous abuse in a real, unromanticised context, forces her to understand how her innocent outlook can be taken advantage of by people who would mean to do her harm.

and then touga assaults her, and when she rejects him, bewildered, he accuses her: isn’t this what you wanted? of course he can’t understand it’s the absolute opposite of what she wanted to preserve. one could argue here that ikuhara is blaming nanami for her naivety, even punishing her for being so short-sighted. but on the contrary I think he’s desperately seeking our empathy for her here, in showing us that a child’s romanticisation is not an excuse for her victimisation nor her offering consent. and if all we want to focus on is the fantasies of an alienated child, we fail to appropriately condemn abusers from taking advantage of children like nanami.

[andersdotters]

I think the thing that's easy to forget about Arlecchino is that she is not the original Arlecchino. The one that set up the House of the Hearth, the one that greatly abused its members, the one that lied to Freminet about his mother, the one that brainwashed the members to be willing to give their lives for their family was the original Arlecchino, not the current Arlecchino. The current Arlecchino was previously a child raised by the House of the Hearth that succeeded the original Arlecchino through some kind of "serious clash."

The original Arlecchino was painted to be a very cruel person. She'd would greatly punish members that did not succeed in their missions. She lied to Freminet that his mother abandoned him, then used his mother's well being as a way to threaten Freminet into obeying. Going off of one of her subordinates actions, she would've been fine with the creation of orphans if that met taking them in to become later members of the Fatui.

When the current Arlecchino got into power, she changed many things. Where the previous Arlecchino wanted them to give up their lives for the family, the current told them that they must value their lives. Every single one of them was important. Where the previous Arlecchino would punish members for failing missions, the current does not do so, but chooses to give missions suitable to the person.

What I find really interesting about the current Arlecchino is that she is not without morals. When Lyney asks to receive a delusion to help his sister, though she does not react outwardly, her eyes were described to be full of "wrath." She then shows a startling amount of emotional intelligence and asks if that is what Lynette would want. When it comes to Freminet, not only was she furious upon learning he was cruelly lied to regarding his mother, what I'm shocked is she knew about his mother in the first place. She knew what his mother looked like. Freminet entered the House of the Hearth before she became Arlecchino, but she still knew. If you want to look deeper into this, this implies that she purposefully looked into his past and sought out his mother for him.

People may say she's acting. People may say she is acting "nice" to groom the sibings her way, but anger is not something easily faked. Those seemed to be genuine reactions. I do not think that was a lie. However, I'm not saying that she's not lying or manipulative either.

What the most important thing to keep in mind about all of this is what Wanderer and Childe have to say about her. They both fully state that she is insane. She has no problems betraying people. She seeks to control others. She is insane. No ifs, ands, or buts.

I'm just really curious to see how Genshin will reconcile this conflicting information about her.

((check the tags for more of an analysis on her that goes a bit deeper))

[bethanydelleman]

So many people judge Elinor Dashwood for accepting Willoughby's "apology" (it's really just a sob story where he throws every female in his life under the bus), but she doesn't really forgive him AND she is in a very delicate emotional state and dead tired when it happens. For a full defense, I've taken the quotes that show what Elinor is thinking during Chapter 44-46 of Sense & Sensibility. (This is really long)

He arrives right after Elinor is finally assured that Marianne is going to live, after some very trying moments where Mrs. Jennings was predicting that her sister would die. She is waiting for her mother to arrive, and then he walks in. Her emotional state is intense:

Never in her life had Elinor found it so difficult to be calm, as at that moment. The knowledge of what her mother must be feeling as the carriage stopt at the door—of her doubt—her dread—perhaps her despair!—and of what she had to tell!—with such knowledge it was impossible to be calm.

She is not happy to see him, she only barely agrees to hear him out, she is mostly pissed, "Miss Dashwood, at this point, turning her eyes on him with the most angry contempt" And this is Elinor! Who usually controls her expression of feelings.

Elinor remains pretty annoyed with him throughout:

“I have,” returned Elinor, colouring likewise, and hardening her heart anew against any compassion for him, “I have heard it all. And how you will explain away any part of your guilt in that dreadful business, I confess is beyond my comprehension.”

But as Willoughby goes on, Elinor wavers:

Elinor’s heart, which had undergone many changes in the course of this extraordinary conversation, was now softened again

“You are very wrong, Mr. Willoughby, very blamable,” said Elinor, while her voice, in spite of herself, betrayed her compassionate emotion

She does agree that his explanation at least makes him a slightly better person, but her language is hedged, a lot:

“Yes, you have certainly removed something—a little. You have proved yourself, on the whole, less faulty than I had believed you. You have proved your heart less wicked, much less wicked. But I hardly know—the misery that you have inflicted—I hardly know what could have made it worse.”

And even when she is admitting this, she's going over in her head what could have made him such a terrible person:

Elinor made no answer. Her thoughts were silently fixed on the irreparable injury which too early an independence and its consequent habits of idleness, dissipation, and luxury, had made in the mind, the character, the happiness, of a man who, to every advantage of person and talents, united a disposition naturally open and honest, and a feeling, affectionate temper. The world had made him extravagant and vain—Extravagance and vanity had made him cold-hearted and selfish. Vanity, while seeking its own guilty triumph at the expense of another, had involved him in a real attachment, which extravagance, or at least its offspring, necessity, had required to be sacrificed. Each faulty propensity in leading him to evil, had led him likewise to punishment. The attachment, from which against honour, against feeling, against every better interest he had outwardly torn himself, now, when no longer allowable, governed every thought; and the connection, for the sake of which he had, with little scruple, left her sister to misery, was likely to prove a source of unhappiness to himself of a far more incurable nature.

Now we have the ending:

He held out his hand. She could not refuse to give him hers;—he pressed it with affection. “And you do think something better of me than you did?” said he, letting it fall, and leaning against the mantel-piece as if forgetting he was to go. Elinor assured him that she did;—that she forgave, pitied, wished him well—was even interested in his happiness—and added some gentle counsel as to the behaviour most likely to promote it.

So she ends the conversation/whine fest with a lecture on how Willoughby could improve himself! This may be a great example of Christian forgiveness, but she certainly doesn't think he is a good person.

Now Elinor is alone and she reflects on how his charm overcomes her knowledge of his faults:

Willoughby, he, whom only half an hour ago she had abhorred as the most worthless of men, Willoughby, in spite of all his faults, excited a degree of commiseration for the sufferings produced by them, which made her think of him as now separated for ever from her family, with a tenderness, a regret, rather in proportion, as she soon acknowledged within herself—to his wishes than to his merits. She felt that his influence over her mind was heightened by circumstances which ought not in reason to have weight; by that person of uncommon attraction, that open, affectionate, and lively manner which it was no merit to possess; and by that still ardent love for Marianne, which it was not even innocent to indulge. But she felt that it was so, long, long before she could feel his influence less.

and slightly later:

But the rest, which one night entirely sleepless, and many hours of the most wearing anxiety seemed to make requisite, was kept off by irritation of spirits. Willoughby, “poor Willoughby,” as she now allowed herself to call him, was constantly in her thoughts; she would not but have heard his vindication for the world, and now blamed, now acquitted herself for having judged him so harshly before. But her promise of relating it to her sister was invariably painful. She dreaded the performance of it, dreaded what its effect on Marianne might be; doubted whether after such an explanation she could ever be happy with another; and for a moment wished Willoughby a widower. Then, remembering Colonel Brandon, reproved herself, felt that to his sufferings and his constancy far more than to his rival’s, the reward of her sister was due, and wished any thing rather than Mrs. Willoughby’s death.

I think wishing Willoughby a widower is the most damning line here, but the sentence prior make it clear that it is for Marianne's sake, not Willoughby's, that Elinor wishes he was free to marry. And she repents almost immediately. Also, and importantly, Elinor is still not sleeping! So she is still running on anxiety and no sleep when she wishes Mrs. Willoughby dead.

Later, when she does tell Marianne about the encounter a few weeks later, we can see her opinion of Willoughby has definitely soured:

“The whole of his behaviour,” replied Elinor, “from the beginning to the end of the affair, has been grounded on selfishness. It was selfishness which first made him sport with your affections; which afterwards, when his own were engaged, made him delay the confession of it, and which finally carried him from Barton. His own enjoyment, or his own ease, was, in every particular, his ruling principle.”

To summarize: Elinor was tired and emotional when Willoughby arrived and under the influence of his charm, she did begin to think better of him. She did forgive him, but while still dwelling on his faults. When she has time for rest and reflection, and without him present, she thinks more clearly and knows that everything Willoughby did was selfish.

[dr-catherine-sherman-owens]

Hey Cathy! I’ve got an update on Assistant, looks like the foundation updated their file, and it’s not looking all too good…

-🍓

Object Class:

Keter.

Special Containment Procedures:

SCP - [REDACTED], Otherwise known as “Chameleon” is to be contained in a large, empty room consisting of padded floors and walls, fluorescent lights seem to be disliked heavily by Chameleon. It has been observed to squint often, the lights seemingly harming its eyes. If the lights in its cell are off seem to glow a lime green from the slanted iris.

Chameleon is under no circumstances allowed to communicate with on-site personnel, it has been observed to be highly manipulative, saying whatever it takes to get what it wants. This has resulted in New MTF Agent Windsor being contained in the same cell as Chameleon because it successfully manipulated Windsor into being its ally, Windsor being hesitant to contain it as a result of this.

Description:

Subject appears to be a middle-aged humanoid with pale, grayish skin, pointed downward-facing ears, long, black, type 4a hair. with almond-shaped eyes with a black sclera and a neon green iris, a long and fluffy tail with the same kind of fur-like hair on its head. And most prominent and recognizable, many scars, the largest being a burn scar surrounding it's left half of the face, small bumps spread across the darkest parts.

Chameleon typically wears casual clothing with smears of oil from frequent machinery projects, few have been finished according to observations.Chameleon has been observed to have what appear to be shapeshifting abilities, subject at first observation seemed to be human, with near direct opposite traits to its true form. Caucasian facial features with warm, tan skin; short, gray type 2b hair, normal human eyes with a green iris. Along with normal ears and a lack of tail. This ability could have been proven useful if Chameleon did not have a highly manipulative personality.

TL:DR

Prominent features include: Sickly, gray skin; Long, black, 4a texture hair, Almond shaped eyes with neon green Iris and black sclera; downward facing ears, Long and cat-like tail with the same attributes as hair, Many scars

Frequent clothing it typically wears is a worn, red sweater; colorful hairpins, brown cargo pants; and gray Doc Martin’s modified with blue flower details

Addendum:

First contact came in the form of Staff searching for The Star, mistakenly breaking into Chameleons apartment, it attempted to stay hidden but was unknowingly unsuccessful, a new intern who wished to stay anonymous nonverbally gesturing to the subject, who carefully snuck to where was presumably its bedroom, where it later escaped and was never seen again, that is until The Stars punishment, where the subject was seen fleeing a large gothic tower with a kid in tow. Nearby MTF agents reported hearing the subject say in a hushed voice, in its normal form with a paper bag on its head; "Cmon kid, we gotta go ASAP, these people wanna hurt Sage and she's making sure we're all safe, we gotta let her focus, ok?" The kids nodded, one saying "wish auntie Sage didn't hafta deal with meanies., the Subject nodded in agreement before rushing out of the scene.

The subject has also been reported to go by the name "Assistant" despite legal documents saying otherwise, it's legal name being "Connie [REDACTED)". MTF agents that have interacted with Chameleon have reported it being outwardly friendly, though secretly manipulative in nature, with a gap in its two front teeth when it smiles. Chameleon appeared to be in a relationship with The Stars stage magic assistant, who has yet to be named, much to the dismay of newer researchers who stated and we quote "I can fix it" when given a photo of Chameleon. Said researchers were given Keter duty by Dr. Sherman in response.

Chameleon has also been reported to be close with The Star, observations will continue to restrict this universes access to other worlds, hopefully limiting The Stars power.

Chameleon is not allowed to be let out of its cell, not unlike other contained entities. It’s manipulative nature has led to the O-5 council to conclude that Chameleon is a danger to all known universes, including its own. Despite junior researcher Windsor’s speech that Chameleon was normal for its world, he will soon be demoted to D-Class as punishment

Dear Sage, this is bad... We have got to get there and quick.... S.V. knows how to make a portal to get there, and since Theron was mentioned, we can likely assume it's the universe branch I'm originally from. My necklace could be used as the connection between the universes if it's the universe I'm from. Then we need to get everyone we can to help. We're storming the Foundation to get our friend back, no matter how hard it is...

[kiss-my-freckle]

Miss Mystic Falls

Making Damon feel human.

Punishment versus reeducation, Stefan versus Elena. Understand the difference, you'll understand why this is Damon's signature moment. He fell in love with Elena at this dance despite his love for Katherine, just as Elena fell for Damon despite her love for Stefan.

"During the dark ages, when a vampire's actions threatened to expose or bring harm upon the entire race, they would face judgment. They sought to reeducate them rather than to punish them."

Punishment is vervaining Damon, stripping him of his daylight ring, and starving him to desiccation with the plan to put him in the family crypt for 50 years. This makes Stefan no better than Klaus shoving the dagger into his siblings. Stefan wanted to hide Damon away from the founding families. The very families that kill vampires because they were raised to hate them. Stefan basically judged and sentences Damon. He claimed to do this because he felt Damon's actions threatened to expose or bring harm to them via the founding families. In reality, it was because Damon's actions threatened to expose their truth to Elena, and he wanted to keep their truth from her. However you feel about Stefan's intentions, he outwardly uses the vampire-killing founding families as an excuse to desiccate Damon, to hide him away from them.

Stefan basically treated Damon as a monster. As Chiyoh states on Hannibal, "Some beasts shouldn't be caged."

You then get the opposite with Elena at the pageant. Stefan is acting as the murderous vampire that's feeding on Amber, and Damon is taking Elena on the dance floor. Pay mind to how the Salvatores are written alongside each other in the episode because it matters. Damon is getting his one taste just as Stefan is.

"The Fell cousins don't have a shot and Amber Bradley is only on the court so the pageant doesn't look like its founding families only -which of course it is."

This isn't just any event. It's meant to be a founding family event to offset their cellar. Sunlit to offset the dark. Elena holding him in her embrace to offset Stefan walking away and leaving him to desiccate alone. She's not hiding Damon away from their vampire-killing founding families, she's showing him off. Jenna asks, "What is she doing with Damon?" She's making him feel human, reconnecting him to a world that he hasn't been in since 1864. This vampire founding family member is passing off as a human founding family member.

"This" Damon is being awakened by Elena, and he already knows this dance because he wanted Katherine to choose him as her escort. He talks to Elena about his fall in season 6. "But there was this moment, this one moment, where everyone else fell away and it was just the two of us." Katherine wasn't on that dance floor with him. Elena was. She's showing him a world without Katherine. Her world. The song they chose is from Damon's pov.

"Don't tear me down for all I need Make my heart a better place Give me something I can believe Don't tear me down You've opened the door now, don't let it close"

Home and heart. Elena already opened the tomb for Damon. In this dance, she opened his heart. This not only gave him the ability to move forward, but gave him the ability to fall. Emotion is something he hasn't done with any woman in the 145 years he's been without Katherine. He closed off that part of himself while having sex with them. That's how he remained committed to one woman. Sex with Caroline, but no emotion. Just his teeth sinking in. This dance isn't sex, it's soul... and Katherine weakened his will when they opened that tomb.

Carol's comments matter. "Honor your partner." Damon and Elena honor each other. "Stay focused." Damon and Elena remain focused on each other. "Flirt with your eyes." Damon flirts with his eyes. "It's about the simple intimacy of the near touch." The emotional connection matters. They're baring their souls to each other.

"Can you still see the heart of me?"

Do you see me as I see you? The very girl that walked into the tomb with him despite it holding 26 desiccating vampires needing a drink. Anna said it perfectly. "You must have a taste for it. You scream and shriek and even bother to escape, but then you just come right back to it." Her darkness, his light. Elena is everything Damon was before Katherine. He can see himself in her.

"This was really important to my mother. She believed in community, family, honor and loyalty. It's the legacy she left for me."

This is where I pull in Elena's pageant interview because I feel ilt's important to know how this moment will change Damon. Love isn't just something you feel, it's something that happens to you. Elena now has power/control over Damon. The kind of power she needs to continue reeducating him. So much power that he will nearly die in the season one finale because he loves her.

"Miss Elena Gilbert, escorted by Mister Stefan Salvatore."

There are various scenes in the show that I adore because they're based on how the brothers are written. Damon is both the good brother and the bad brother. Stefan is both the good brother and the bad brother. They alternate between good and bad according to storyline. An example of this is Elena's birthday episode. Despite the fact that Damon is gifiting her something for her birthday, he gifts it to her in Stefan's bedroom. He's showing the audience that Elena is about to get his humanity, his selflessness. It's the same with Elena's introduction. She's getting Stefan Salvatore, Damon's humanity. His signature moment, that's why it gets so much show coverage. Why Damon so much as considers it the beginning of their love story. He fell for her. To Damon, "Elena Gilbert" is no longer just a name. It's a religion.

Stefan wasn't the right person to be Elena's escort.

Reason #1: He doesn't take it seriously. It's not just about his intake of human blood, it's about him, and he clearly hasn't changed since 1864 because he was the same way with Katherine. The dance is a joke to him. Fact is, he hates to dance. He has to get drunk to dance, pressured to dance, need Elena to bait Noah to dance. Honoring his partner is a no. Staying focused is a no. Flirting with the eyes? All she'll see is a blood-drunk vampire. He feels the 'near touch' is overrated because he's 17. Emotionally connecting to someone without touch is a concept he doesn't grasp. He uses touch at prom to get Elena to flip her emotional switch. She turns their dance into something completely sexual. "What heart?"

"Can you still see the heart of me?"

Their 'near touch' concept is the reason Valerie vervains Caroline so Stefan can't touch her. Ask yourself why Steroline has emotionless sex their first time.

Reason #2: Dead mothers

Elena told Stefan this dance was important to her mother. Rather than own his addiction and allow Damon to help him sober up, he continued to drink human blood. Trunk full of empty blood bags. Dresser drawer full of empty blood bags. Finishing a blood bag while he's on the phone with Elena. When she confronts him about his blood intake, he gets so angry that he smashes the mirror with his fist, then abducts Amber and nearly rips her apart. Bonnie has to use her magic to stop him. He completely exaggerated the situation because he's drunk on human blood. And she's supposed to take him out on the dance floor, in front of the vampire-killing founding families? Now it's Stefan's actions that threaten to expose or bring harm upon them. The point of Damon ratting him out to Elena.

"A month ago, I would have rejoiced. But with the council back on the alert, it is not a good time for Stefan to fly off the handle."

It's not just about Stefan threatening to expose their truth, it's about the risk he's taking of going full-blown ripper. Yes, Damon cares if Stefan goes on a ripper binge.

Anna is written alongside Elena, her necklace symbolizing a heart of darkness. imo, she represents future Elena. And like Elena, she's there on behalf of her "dead" mother. This pushes back to her comment in 1x14. "Yeah, I think we'll skip the dead mom bonding so you can start serving a purpose."

Stefan was the one that wanted to keep all 27 vampires sealed in the tomb, Pearl included. The same brother that wanted to burn 26 vampires once they rescued Katherine, Pearl included. When Anna told Stefan she was going in to get her mother, he told her he can't let her do that and actually tried to stop her. Forget about family, forget about honor and loyalty. This is the brother that felt a young girl Anna's age should spend an eternity without her own mother, and simply because Pearl is a vampire. According to him, he's the only vampire worthy of a life in Mystic Falls. How is he to honor Elena's dead mother, and do so honestly? Their pageant dance would've been nothing but a lie. The best brother to honor the dead, is the vampire that honors the dead. The brother that loves either way.

Reason #3: He spent two episodes lying to Elena about his blood intake and refusing Damon's help. He acts like he's too good to get Damon's help and too ashamed to let Elena in the know. He falls into his addiction, all-knowing that Elena wanted to honor her mother.

When confronted, hates on Damon for outing him and gets toxic in his phrasing to Elena. Rather than own the fact that he's out of control on human blood, he tells her that she's overreatcing, and uses her suppoed overreaction to excuse his lying and keeping secrets from her. So it's all Elena's fault that Stefan is drunk on human blood and can't handle a pageant dance without trying to kill one of the contestants.

Stefan couldn't even resist Amber. As Elena's escort, he'd have to resist all of this human blood. As Elena's escort, he'd have to resist her blood. As Elena's escort, it would've taken 5 minutes for Damon and Stefan to be outed as daywalking vampires, that's how messed up Stefan is. That's why it's his turn for the cellar. Not for a 50 year desiccation because it's not punishment. It's detox.

[metalempire]

some very thoughts on wrathful aoi and why she’s easily one of my favourite things digimon has ever done down below. spoilers ahead for all of the wrathful route of digimon survive.

wrathful route in general is peak survive thanks to how violent and unhinged it is, plus you get mugendramon from it, my favourite digimon, so of course i’m overwhelmingly biased towards it, especially since it was my first route i completed when survive came out last year. all the said, aoi has always been a fascinating take on digimon’s core Girl™ archetype, clearly based on two characters from the original 1999 digimon adventure (which survive is overtly stated to draw heavy inspiration from as a more modern and dark retelling of that story’s core archetype and thematic elements) those being sora takenouchi primarily, and jou kido secondarily. 

she obviously has the Motherly™ traits down perfectly, as she is always concerned for the group, reacts negatively to violence, is very concerned for any instance of children, is a good cook, naturally caring, merciful, and kind. she also is a deeply responsible girl who puts others before herself, is an honour student who always volunteered to do the right thing at school, even to her own detriment as no one helped her. despite being seemingly the perfect girl, a class president who did no wrong, was always helpful, and never negative, she never had many friends, was scolded by teachers for being too helpful for her own good, and was seemingly always punished in small, but meaningful ways throughout life just for being what everyone wanted her to be. the parallels to sora and jou in their core traits and arcs from the show are quite clear as the route goes on, as aoi takes over as leader when takumi disappears trying to save miyuki and stop piemon. 

she’s able to hold the group together, taking on even more responsibility, putting all of her skills to good use. but in the end, she isn’t takuma, she can’t savescum every response for max affinity like a true MC, and so does the best with what she has. during this time, she develops a strong bond with saki, a girl she admires deeply. saki, though being terminally ill, and near the start of the game, close to dying, is still outwardly cheery, outgoing, emotionally vibrant, and blunt about everything. saki shines bright despite the horrendous circumstances she finds herself in, and she inspires aoi, who wishes to be as driven, determined, and honest with herself as saki is. the irony being saki keeps her secret that she’s dying from everyone except aoi and floramon. though (unless i’m remembering wrong) takuma can find out. similarly, saki admires everything positive about aoi, and the two girls desperately want to be more like each other, finding that one has what the other lacks. 

the tragedy of all this naturally comes to its conclusion as violently as possible. when saki dies, it’s a sudden, brutal, yet drawn out demise. saki makes a mistake, and isn’t reprimanded for it by aoi, because aoi and the others help her anyway, and the situation is too tense. aoi admires how saki can move on swiftly and back into action with the rescue effort, furthering her desire to be like saki, clouding her self-image once more, saki shining bright enough to where the glare prevents aoi from seeing she’s falling for the same trap as before. this ends up with the kenzoku grabbing saki, and aoi being the one to try and pull her back, only for saki to sacrifice herself so the girl she looks up to more than anyone in the world doesn’t die, and aoi is forced to watch her rock, the girl she’s leaned on for weeks be violently ripped apart in a bloody death, right in front of her, and cannot have time to grieve, as the team needs to move or be swallowed by the fog. 

aoi’s sheer shock and depression, her sense of loss, her confusion and bubbling self doubt come to the surface totally, and she shuts down. she rejects all comforts, because she has convinced herself she knows saki better than anyone, that she, in some small way, is saki, and that this death means something more to her. saki’s death shakes aoi to her core, and kaito, in a scene to parallel the harmonic route, tries to offer her words of resolve, but his emotions spill out wrong, and he doesn’t fully connect with her. in the end, aoi leaves to be by herself, only to end up at the library, where the saki illusion utterly breaks her mind, feeds on her guilt, aoi’s sense of responsibility, and weaponises her kindness against her, sinking aoi to her lowest low. but despite it all, she still has labramon. aoi wanders alone, lost in the woods, with only her thoughts of saki, saki’s death, what saki has and what she herself lacks, and eventually, of labramon, how she let her digimon down, and lets the others down, but then, her anger slips in. aoi wishes everyone would work together more. surely, if they had, if they had listened to her more often, bickered less often, coordinated better, not been indecisive or clashed so often, saki wouldn’t be dead. maybe even shuuji and ryo beforehand. aoi snaps here, and decides everyone should work harmoniously, even the sworn enemies of kemonogami and humans. 

for some reason, piemon survives getting his ass blasted by some kids in the human world (this only happens in wrathful and harmonic. he stays dead in moral and truthful. this is never explained lol but i like to think he gave up and was chilling on the beach for those)  and aoi finds him dying in the woods. in her more delusional state of confusion, she decides she’s now a fire emblem protagonist, and heals him so she can talk to him and recruit him in the fight against the master. unfortunately, aoi is not the protagonist, and this is digimon survive, so her helping a guy who was very much down with child sacrifices is a very stupid move that earns her a brutal fate. however, it makes total sense. she is deeply traumatised by death, constant fighting for her life, raw guilt, and a creeping sense of long-running resentment for the human race conflicting with her natural kindness and love of everyone. with so many mixed emotions, trauma, constant self-doubt, no confidence in herself whatsoever, having lost everything, save for her life, aoi really believes in herself that she is right, that everyone else is wrong, because she’s aoi shibuya, she only does the right thing. 

so piemon violently chokes aoi, beats her to death, and then stabs her, and to top it all off, does the same to labramon, and leaves them both to die on the ground. 

aoi, in her state of raw emotional and mental turmoil, (also hasn’t eaten anything since saki died so she’s physically out of it too and barely slept) genuinely thought this would work, that piemon was forsaken by the master, and would want to side with her. she forgot, in her self-assuredness, trying to be like saki, her ideal protagonist in life, that piemon was her enemy, that piemon hates humans more than she does, that piemon is an ultimate level (or mega if ur a dub loser lol) with four swords duct taped to his back, and that she, at most, will only have the perfect level cerberumon, (on wrathful, she cannot access anubimon’s evolution scene unless you already unlock it on ng+) so she could not have solo’d this boss even if she tried. poor aoi suffers once more for choosing “correctly”, for helping someone injured, for being like saki, assured, honest, confident, bright. 

she watches, dying on the ground, as piemon fights the team, who wish to save her. she laments that everyone is fighting again, which she was trying to prevent. once more, she is helpless to see her efforts come to naught, to fail. but labramon reaches out to her, someone who never abandoned her, someone who didn’t let her wander off alone, someone who loves her for being her, not for what she does for them. the friend she always needed. saki may be aoi’s idol, and her best friend, in a sense, but labramon is aoi’s partner digimon, labramon was who aoi needed all along. she knows this, deep down, and her desires, spilling out all at once as she sees her bloodied and dying little dog, manifest as, ironically, darkness. she doesn’t want to die, she wants to live. and she wants to be right for once, to make things right for once. 

aoi becomes plutomon by fusing with labramon. plumon is an ultimate level dark virus digimon. it is one of the olympos xii, and despite the former statement, is a vengeful roman death god hell bent on exterminating all virus digimon, and is the most frightening member of the olympos xii. plutmon kills and absorbs piemon easily, then fends off the party, declaring her intentions to kill the master, and bring harmony and peace to this broken world of the kemonogami. but there’s more to it than that. initially, everyone is terrified of plutomon, but minoru still sees her as aoi, and, that her new form is useful in their fight against the master. however aoi makes it clear that the harmony she seeks is the same kind she demonstrated with piemon. her madness complete, she earnestly believes that by assimilating everyone into her, she can make them all happy, to all do and think as she does, to all live with her. everyone will be together, as one. even if she has to be violent, cruel, and strict, she will bring everyone the happiness they need, because aoi is never wrong. aoi is the perfect honour student. aoi always does the right thing. and plutmon is simply fighting to make a utopia, the very thing mankind strives for. in her delusions, plutomon says she can hear saki’s voice, as part of this world, cheering her on. she’s too far gone to stop now, but she’s never been more confident in herself, or her new plans.

aoi leaves, kicks down the master’s door, and begins brutally assimilating the kenzoku, stripping the master of his minions. she fights the party again, and tis time, they try to get through to her, appealing to her emotions, admitting their own failings, but ultimately, trying to make her see reason. but in the end, miyuki and renamon die thanks to the master’s machinations, and so they are dragged into his realm. plutmon fights the master, but dies, and is absorbed by him. the party fights to avenge aoi, while the master wears plutomon as a hood ornament, mocking them all. however, this was all according to keikaku. aoi planned for it to go this way, so the others would weaken the master for her to eat him from the inside, gaining all the power she needs to make her dream a reality. she reveals that she intends to unify the world of the kemonogami and the humans to be as one, and then assimilate all life into her, to become the paradise they always dreamed of. she even pulls the remnants of saki, ryo and shuuji up, claiming to hear their affirming voices. all the party hears are the pained screams of the dead, who wish for their friend to stop. aoi doesn’t know, she’s too far gone, to caught in her delusions to care. plutomon hears what she wants to hear, just as it is in its original lore, the god of death is single minded in its pursuit, and violently unwavering. aoi even mocks the party, in an oddly caring way, reflecting on how their friendship, their bond, and their strength, was what she relied on this whole time to make her will come true. 

in the final battle, aoi is ultimately killed by her friends, who desperately wanted to help her, to turn her away from a path of mass extinction, and in the end, had to strike her down. she laments her failings, she apologises to everyone, dead and alive, and wishes she could just be right, and dies, with a smile, questioning if she was wrong again, and apologising, as the polite girl she always was. aoi dies with a smile, having fought for peace and harmony. aoi did nothing wrong. aoi was punished regardless. that’s how it always goes for her, doesn’t it? 

the core theme of aoi, or rather, plutomon’s journey, is the paradoxical and ultimately doomed to failure quest that is achieving heaven through violence. history even has such examples, such as crusades and holy wars, where the righteous, through doctrine, personal bias, piety, and ultimately, brutal ignorance and delusion, attempt to crush what they believe to be opposition, in what they believe to be righteous, the correct path, that will lead them to the wonderful utopia, the heavens above, yet they contradict themselves, through malicious acts of persecution and violence, sheer brutality, and hatred towards their fellow people. plutomon wanted nothing more than for people to be brought together. but plutomon used mass murder as her means to bring about peace, and believed it to be correct. a world of peace cannot be built on a foundation of violence. even her statement that there is no room for naughty children in her ideal world reveals the hypocrisy of plutomon’s beliefs and methods, punishing others through slaughter. 

the wrathful ending, with its anti-digimon dystopian police state (just like real life!) is a great representation of aoi’s corruption, and in the end, the world she was always going to make. people and digimon came together. forcefully. some found their partners and were happy. some found them and used them for evil. most never met them at all. most were lost and confused. division arose. segregation, persecution, violence, chaos and mass destruction arose in an authoritarian nightmare state. fitting, perhaps, for what aoi wrought. she wanted to bring people together, no matter the cost, and her brazen, self-assured, delusional methods, stained with blood, only brought more suffering. aoi did nothing wrong. the world was punished regardless. that’s how it always goes for her, isn’t it?

aoi shibuya is a good example of the subtle pressures and small scale incidents that pile up over time, and the consequences of bottling up one’s emotions while trying to always care for others. aoi was the perfect honour student, who was always kind and helpful. a good cook who prioritised the safety of the group, someone who always supported the sake decision, and could even cut through the air during an argument to restore peace. she stepped up to be responsible leader, and always helped others. 

aoi never leaned on anyone for support when it mattered. she put saki on a pedastal, and while she did lean on her for support, she never allowed their relationship to be equal, as friends, and was never fully honest with herself, or saki, about why she wanted to be like saki. she always had labramon looking out for her, but never confided in labramon. in her dying moments, she laments that she would have been a burden to them if she did confide in them and leaned on them for support, only for a tearful party to reveal she always did so much to help them, and hey would have loved to support her. but aoi never let them know that until she died. until she went on the warpath as plutomon. aoi was always responsible to a fault, but never leaned on anyone for support, never gave anyone else much of a chance to be like her, to share her burdens. aoi struggled to connect with people, and even when she tried, she put her on a pedestal, and never allowed them to properly share in their burdens. aoi never realised her strengths, and eventually, grew arrogant enough to believe she was always doing the right thing, and that by embodying only what she believed saki to be, that she could change the world. aoi not realising that she was fine as who she was, and that by working together with saki, being honest with her, sincere about her feelings, that she could have found a far better way to work through her flaws, and together with everyone. (jou’s crest is sincerity in the original japanese run of adventure, coincidence, then, that aoi needs to embody that sincerity, and with labramon, love, sora’s crest, to be able to move forward within herself as a character?)

aoi, in the wrathful route, is a bleakly realistic depiction of what happens when the Perfect Girl ultimately snaps from the weight of responsibility. when someone tried to always do the right thing, even to their own detriment, never asks for help, is never a burden, is always reliable, always kind, offers care of their own but never asks for any themselves, and always thinks of others first, no matter what, without ever leaning on anyone else for support. eventually, the perfection slips, and soon, the world itself seems to turn on them. in the end, the pressure becomes too great, everything goes wrong, and when one domino falls, the rest slip into place, and great consequences are wrought. ones that are deeply self-destructive, and even can harm the very people one cares about. 

aoi looks up to an inspiring friend. aoi’s friend dies right in front of her. aoi helps someone on the verge of death. aoi is choked, beaten, and stabbed to death. aoi resolves to fix the world, and solve two world’s worth of problems, carry everyone’s burdens, and put and end to a centuries-long conflict. aoi is killed by the very people she was fighting for. aoi did nothing wrong. aoi was punished regardless. it’s always like that for her, isn’t it? 

aoi shibuya is a fantastic deconstruction of the typical motherly Girl™ character, combined with the responsible older kid archetype, blended into a brutal physical and mental breakdown that makes far too much sense given everything that’s happened to her. all the little things built up, and then something big happened, and it all spilled out. she tried her best to regain control, but by then, she was already too far gone. no matter what, aoi shibuya never gave up, she took what she saw in saki, even takuma to a much lesser extent, and stepped up to take charge, confidently, and do the right thing, do what needs to be done, and embark on a mission to save the world. by destroying it. she wanted to be right, so badly, that she blinded herself to reality. all alone, and yet, in her last moments, died surrounded by people who cared for her, even after she tried to slaughter them all. and even though it went horrendously, in her own way, she brought humans and digimon together. 

her story is tragic, but more subtle than the traditional sad backstory kind of way digimon often does it. it’s grounded, mundane, even, yet it shows how even a polite, ordinary, high-achieving girl who is pleasant in every way and mild-mannered, can become twisted and unrecognisable due to circumstances beyond her control, and ultimately, her own self-imposed loneliness that many people struggle with in our real world. aoi desperately tried to gain control of her life, but sadly, was never truly able to have it. everyone else stood in her way. but then, it was everyone else who she, ironically, needed the most, yet pushed away with her own decisions, always, for their own good, over her own. by being selfless, aoi, in the end, did herself, more harm than good. 

it always goes that way, doesn’t it?

perfection is an illusion. chasing it only leads to madness. 

“i say these people should learn of our peaceful ways....by force!” -aoi shibuya, shortly after becoming plutomon 

[forgottenyear]

An updated facts post [draft]

2312100828 - Spherical 15ae (I was working on fractals earlier in the day and apparently I have not yet copied the post that goes here) (for the curious: the date may be obvious in this filename, and the 15ae designates the fifteenth trunk of a spherical-based fractal, and the fifth twig ("e") off of the first branch ("a") of its evolutions / modifications)

--

[tw: everything on the list in the pinned post – except the medical abuse (I forgot about that)]

[I write this because I have memory problems and I sometimes lose track of what has happened in the life of this body. This is strictly for when I get completely lost. I have set diversions to other posts for when I need only a little course affirmation or correction. There is no graphic detail, but a reader should be aware that this post is not always safe for the writer to read. If you do proceed, please do so with caution. Please, stay safe.]

[This is only a draft still because I need to work on a little at a time for safety.]

--

I cannot speak definitively for everyone. I can only relate what I know.

The father used the unwanted child’s body for unspeakable purposes. With the mother’s awareness, the parents blamed the child for the offense(s). The child was labelled a liar. The child was forever defined as bad, stupid, and worthless. The child was the family scapegoat. The community, within and beyond the church, was only too happy to treat the child according to the parents’ wishes.

A child’s mind can adapt, but not always in ways that make for heartwarming tales of overcoming adversity. This child’s mind developed in pieces that never coalesced into one person. A child cannot withstand certain events, and so the events became shards of the child’s mind, separate and distinct from the child as it was outwardly perceived. As the events multiplied, so did the pieces into which the child’s mind was broken.

The end product of childhood was an uncountable number of parts that are collectively identified as the boy (and assumed to be a single part, until recently), one part that was recognized as the girl, at least one nebulous child without gender, and a protector part who is also genderless.

I suspect I am at least mostly the nebulous child, and something that may qualify as fusion, or may not, with the boy and the girl. “Or may not,” because the definition of fusion is necessarily vague to the approach of meaningless.

I am in no way absolved from responsibility for the choices of other parts, but I cannot speak for them, either.

--

There were other assaults on the child’s body, beyond the family and often of a sexual nature, for which only the child was blamed.

Since the child was bad, stupid, and worthless, punishments were always warranted. Since the child was extremely bad, stupid, and worthless, extreme punishments were commonplace. Assaults were usually called deserved punishments.

The mother frequently stated that boys are bad and girls are good, and this may have influenced the girl part’s development. Her development and her name, “Angela.” (The girl is the only part with a name of her own.)

The child spent much of a year of grade school with the school system’s therapist. Therapy ended when the therapist recommended the child be sent to a school for the gifted. This would have upended the parents’ insistence that the child was stupid, so they took the child out of that school and sent them to a school in the next town instead.

The child made their first tepid move toward suicide while in high school.

The boy attempted to establish a life of his own, after leaving home. This ended disastrously with the boy being taken advantage of continuously, and usually with his tacit consent because he never believed he deserved better.

When the fiancée abandoned the boy, while he was first hospitalized, and took everything of value, he made his first serious attempt at suicide (for which the body still suffers today).

And this was the beginning of two years in which I can only assume memories were not formed properly. The forgotten years for which this blog was named (when I assumed it was only one year).

--

Before the fiancée abandoned the boy, she coaxed the girl part and the child into the open. She was nurturing toward both and assembled the girl part’s first wardrobe. The fiancée’s choices of clothing were more risqué than the girl part preferred, and the price of nurturement was that the fiancée would then have angry sex with the girl’s boy-body.

After the fiancée departed, Angela (the girl part) began establishing her own life in another city, where she had friends she met online.

[To limit Angela’s embarrassment, I will omit details of her story. I have previously assumed greater liberties with her story, but I need to be more respectful of her privacy. I am trying to stick only to events that are pertinent to the life of this body.]

Angela believed we would have a new start in her city, so she poured all of our money into making it work.

While we were still early in transitioning our gender, at least two of the new “friends” drugged and then raped the body.

We came closest to successfully ending our life sometime after this (or I assume it was after).

I have access only to bits of memories from the two-year period following the end of the boy’s relationship with the fiancée. What I have are pieces that do not fit neatly into chronological order, and some pieces that fit no order of any kind.

There is a memory of staying in a homeless shelter and eating at the soup kitchen. We were never without a home, so this memory makes no sense. I know it happened, but I do not know why.

--

And then it was my turn. I have assumed we fused, but indications suggest otherwise. What I do know is that nearly every memory up to this point in the life of the body was mislaid. I developed in dissociative amnesia.

My memory of events is somewhat different from theirs.

I grew up in a little town that time forgot. It was something that fell out of a Norman Rockwell painting. The post office was in the five-and-dime and had wooden mailboxes with combination dials to open them. The early grade-school was originally all grades, and was built to replace the one-room schoolhouses that dot the area. My family was the new family because practically everyone in the town was related to everyone else, sometimes in multiple ways. Some of my teachers also taught the parents of classmates and went to grade-school with the grandparents. I was nearly the marble champion in fifth grade. One winter thaw, I coaxed my friends into chopping out chunks of ice so we could float down river, Huck Finn style. All of these things are real events from our childhood, but for too many years, they were the only events from my childhood.

I had a successful career as a trainer and job coach for people with disabilities (among other titles). People just assume that I had an idyllic childhood, was put through college by my parents, and went on to do “charitable” work for those less fortunate.

--

A few years ago, the amnesia failed. I learned that I am not alone. My Rockwellian idyll was violently shoved into a new context.

That is where this blog began. I have a private archive of the earliest posts, but I had to wipe this blog recently because of a person who was aggressively invading my privacy (a person who has since been restrained by the law).

The way it felt, when the amnesia failed, was like someone poured all of this horrible stuff into my head. I still default to the idyllic childhood I had through amnesia.

It is very confusing and very frightening to deal with these other lives. Once in a while, though, things I could never explain about myself, before, suddenly make sense.

I am married to someone who was obviously infatuated with Angela, toward the end of the forgotten years, but we are happily growing old together today. I would not be alive without my partner, I am sure, given the way things were going before.

--

The protector part, that I mentioned earlier in this post, is still a protector. They exclusively front during emergencies, as they always have. But now they appear to be more developed as a part, and their role now includes puzzle-solving (most of life can be considered a puzzle, apparently). They have always been present, even when I did not understand what they were.

People who know me tend to see me as a blend of the child part and the protector part (who I mostly call the unfused part). The unfused part appears to have developed to outthink abusers (it is a reasonable explanation, since I have no better). I examine a problem in many ways, then I wait for a solution. When the solution appears, I then implement it, but I also spend a lot of time trying to understand it. And if solutions seem magical to me, they seem no less so to the world around me.

I have experienced the magical appearance of solutions just as memory says the others did before me. It was only when the amnesia failed and I learned I have DID that finally understood what was happening.

I also understood why it was so common to have people tell me that I said things to them that I do not remember saying. Not bad things or false or contradictory things, but bits of advice or wisdom that I wish I could claim to have been my words. Heck, I wish I could remember these things without having to be told by others. I have come to dread the words, “I remember that you told me once,” where I used to look forward to learning something new.

The unfused part fronts exclusively more often than I am aware, I have learned. I used to think they only fronted during emergencies. I have years of memories of being told what “I” did or said during emergencies. I would not want to experience an emergency without the unfused part.

But, as I said, it is now too eerie to have to be told what I said or did just moments ago. It is not funny or endearing, just frightening.

--

My relationship to the unfused part is vastly different from my relationship to the boys or the girl parts. I am unaware of access to the unfused part’s memories. We are frequently co-conscious, but it appears to work only one way. None of us communicate internally with words, but use thoughts or emotions instead. But I can access some memories from the boys and the girl, where I cannot from the unfused part.

I know that Angela is embarrassed by what I wrote earlier. I sense nothing from the unfused part.

The unfused part communicates solutions to puzzles only, to me. Everything else I need to hear about later and third-person.

--

Memory is a word that is too broadly and vaguely defined. Or dissociation makes it so.

There are things I know that I know, even if I am not aware that I know them in the moment.

I cannot live with the knowledge of what was done to the child, and so it was not done to me. Even if these things were done only to the child, I cannot coexist the memories. I cannot function as a person, and have these memories.

There are things I can talk about, without knowing them. Without awareness that I know them.

I know what the father did to the child, and what the “friends” did to Angela, but even saying this much has pushed me too close to suicide for comfort.

Tears are sort of physical dissociation. If I cannot read, I cannot remember.

--

Enough of that.

This is enough to fulfill the need so far.

[snail-eggs]

Boss Intro: Xixi

forgive me if this seems like I don't know what I'm doing. Its because I indeed do not.

Xiomara "Xixi" Rosario

dob: 01/18/86

cuban/dominican

Personality: It is very hard to describe Xixi's personality in such a brief way. Growing up, she was labelled as difficult by adults around her due to her violent outbursts but she was also insanely academically intelligent. This created confusion with her and she still does not know how to live with both sides of herself and finds herself thinking that she still has to choose. In adulthood, she seems to be relatively well-adjusted though it is a front for her incredible impulsivity and self-destructive tendencies. Xixi finds herself often not caring about what happens to her until she's hit rock bottom for a situation. In more casual situations though, she can be very charismatic and even border on flirtatious. Xixi doesn't care much about strangers' opinions though she values the approval of those she holds close.

Bio:

Life Before Saints:

Xixi was born and raised in Stilwater - though not raised in a particularly happy home. She grew up with a lot of resentment in her home life, particularly from her mother; a washed-up Cuban actress whose dreams and promise of stardom in the States was crushed by her pregnancy with Xixi. Her mother was never outwardly abusive or neglectful but Xixi could never shake the feeling that her mother did not love her.

Her relationship with her father was a little better but not by much. He spent most of her childhood concerned with his store which he operated with Xixi's godfather and had inherited from his father. Her father was never bad to her, just absent.

Xixi's grandmother is probably the only relationships he had with an adult in which she can say that she was properly parented. She spent a lot of time at her grandma's house - sometimes more than she spent at her own. She also became very close with her cousins, so close that she began imagining that her aunt and uncle were her parents when she'd spend afternoons there.

When Xixi was 10-years-old, her mother gave birth to her sister Vanessa.

At school and in her every day life, she is often regarded as a problem. Her impulsivity and violent outbursts make her a target for teachers despite her intelligence and Xixi doesn't quite know how to deal with it. All she gets is punishment and is never taught how to cope with the way she feels.

Adolescence/Cousin's death:

When Xixi is 13, her cousin Louis is shot by rogue Vice Kings and bleeds out in front of her. On the same day, her eldest cousin Frank (who unbeknownst to her is a Saint) puts her into his truck and forces her to tell him who killed Louis. This severs the close brother-sister relationship she had with Frank for several years.

In high school, Xixi fairs a bit better. Though not fully in control of her impulses she has begun to learn to pick her fights and pick them wisely.

During this time she has two close friends: Charlie Anderson and Helena Davis. She begins a strange homoerotic-leaning friendship with Helena and things do get physical a couple times, though Xixi does not understand it and does not like that she does not understand it. She has not yet come to terms with the fact that she is bisexual - she doesn't even really know that its a thing yet.

Because of her confusion with her feelings and unwillingness to confront them, Helena and Xixi have a massive falling out. This leaves Charlie as her only friend.

Annulment:

The summer after her high school graduation, Charlie and Xixi decide to take a road trip with no destination in mind. This road trip forces them to confront many things about themselves and Charlie decides to confront his romantic feelings towards Xixi. She doesn't really reciprocate the feelings at first but as the trip gets more and more out of control, she begins to believe that she does.

The trip ends with them getting married at a courthouse in the middle of nowhere and Xixi remarking how she wishes they could have made it to Vegas. The marriage between the two doesn't last very long though and well into October, Xixi asks him for an annulment. This puts a rift in their relationship but things aren't soured forever.

A month after the annulment, in November, Xixi drops out of her freshman year at Stilwater University.

Summer '06:

During the summer of 2006, Xixi is at a very unsteady period in her life. She is working part-time at her father's store and selling shoes out of Charlie's trunk with him when she can. She is also living with her grandmother, barely pulling her weight in bills.

It all changes though, on one warm night in June, when she meets Johnny Gat on a rooftop during a block party. A night where her cousin Demetrius is shot by Vice Kings and she is one of the first on the scene.

This is the inciting incident that leads her on the path to joining the Saints.

[semper-legens]

59. The Hanging Tree, by V.A.C Gattrell

Owned: No, library Page count: 619 My summary: A history of public executions in England at the time of the Bloody Code, when hanging judges sent people to the gallows at a higher rate than ever before. My rating: 4/5 My commentary:

Look, this is the part where I might say something like 'I'm sorry most of my special interests are morbid' if I was actually sorry at all. It's interesting, okay! And one of my morbid special interest is the history of capital punishment and executions. I know that capital punishment is still a thing that exists in many parts of the world, but I live in England where the death penalty has been abolished since the 1960s. I'm interested in it both as a historical curiosity and also as a study of human behaviour, law, and morality. Why do some people consider it reprehensible for an individual to murder another individual but think it's fine if the state kills that murderer in return? What was the point of capital punishment, and did it

I don't think this book set out to provide an argument why capital punishment is cruel and pointless, but it definitely succeeds at that regardless, at least in my eyes. We see stories of judges who condemn people to death despite them not having been given a fair trial, based on evidence that amounts to little more than 'because he looked shifty', after refusing to listen to any pleas and pardons on the condemned's behalf. There are some cases where a person was sentenced to hang despite them blatantly having done no wrong, or had their sentence commuted to transportation despite being innocent. Because this is the crux of the matter - contemporary morality believed it was better to condemn the innocent so that the guilty did not walk free. If a few people hanged for no reason, well, that was for the greater good of society. Horrific in its own right, but adding to that, the death penalty did not work as a deterrent. Crowds at a hanging were often frequented by pickpockets, and there are cases where people went to see the hanging then committed some capital crimes on the way back.

This book focuses on public executions, which were banned in the late 1800s, and provides a really interesting study of the point and efficacy of the public execution. Because while contemporary writers condemned crowds at hangings as lawless and irreverent, in some cases the onlookers used the time to show their opinion on the law and the hanging, boycotting the executions they thought injust or heckling hangmen. Meanwhile, middle-class onlookers seemed to want a guilty thrill at an execution, while outwardly claiming they weren't watching for their own curiosity. It's a long book, for sure. But it's packed full of information and case studies on the subject. I found it really interesting, and if you're of a similar temperament to me, you probably will too!

Next, a plane crashes in the jungle.

[modgirlyreposts-revamped]

Yuta Kosuke is Masumi’s primary alter, though it’s safe to assume he probably has more headmates than just Yuta. However, when Masumi’s distress gets the best of him during the killing game following the unfortunate death of a dear f…riend, he starts experiencing bouts of dissociation, depersonalization and derealization, which aren’t focused on, but shortly after said death, Khenan Reed, the ultimate filmmaker, comments Masumi has been wandering around at night, talking to himself, and this raises suspicions around Masumi. However, upon being pressed about this it becomes apparent he has no memory of it. Over time, Masumi’s demeanor becomes unlike him far more often, and in chapter 5, it becomes apparent Masumi is literally a completely different person.

It’s implied that Yuta is a male introject (alter in a DID/OSDD system based on an outside source, like a real person or fictional character) of Yuri from Doki Doki Literature Club, but this is never explicitly stated because I feel like that might raise some sort of copyright issue?? Either way, it’s also not really relevant enough to the story to confirm anyway but I do intend to imply it with Yuta’s personality, being a quiet “tortured artist” type, similar sounding name (though Yuri means lily and Yuta means gentle) and his affinity for the color purple.

The most explicit reference to it though is that when they’re discussing the fifth death, despite that it’s pretty tame compared to some of the murder scenes, executions and the states of the bodies, Yuta becomes disturbed to the point of becoming physically ill when they begin discussing the manner of death being repeated stab wounds, so much so he starts gagging and coughing like he’s about to vomit.

While Masumi wasn’t unbothered by death, he saw little value to his own life, and could handle the trials fine as a result of that amount of desensitization. However, Yuta isn’t like Masumi, and while he can handle death, several specific manners of death cause him heavy amounts of stress, including suffocation, which is one of the big things that tips the survivors off to the fact that they’re… not talking to Masumi. Masumi had helped solve a strangulation case fine, and only became upset when he realized who the killer was.

Yuta doesn’t actually know he has DID, just that he isn’t Masumi, and in a less unbelievably ableist version of THH chapter 2’s turn of events in trial 5, Masumi and Yuta’s “strange” behaviors cause him to be a suspect as Yuta is unlike the boy they know. However, while Yuta promises he’ll accept any punishment they see fit for any dishonesty including torture, he hesitantly and worriedly refuses to speak of his symptoms at all, despite acknowledging silence as dishonesty. Alice once again being the one to save the trial with psychological prowess, realizes Yuta seems to be a different identity state, and the holes in Yuta’s alibi against allegations of being the killer or even the mastermind are filled in as it becomes clear Yuta has no malicious intent, but a wholly different person with his own personality and rituals that Khenan had happened to capture snippets of. The name Yuta comes from its similarity to Yuri, and Yuta ends up essentially becoming the new host of Masumi’s system. But because of the life Masumi had been crafting, Yuta finds himself suddenly being expected to be someone he absolutely isn’t, an actor instead of an observer, someone supposed to put himself into fire for others’ entertainment. He’s even met with shock when he begins outwardly complaining about pain in his hands and wrists, which Masumi had been dead silent about, and willingly taking anti-inflammatory drugs and wearing braces on his wrists and hands.

Turns out, Yuta and Masumi’s body’s immune system has more problems than Masumi ever let on. While his vitiligo was obvious, what never seemed to occur to anyone in the class and what he kept totally quiet about was the fact that he had another condition caused by his immune system attacking itself- early onset rheumatoid arthritis. Unlike Heiran (maybe I should talk abt her next if ur ok w it—) who has piebaldism, a skin condition that doesn’t pose any serious health risks, but creates heavy stress and self esteem issues for Heiran, Masumi’s condition is indicative of an underlying stress and health issue. Heiran’s condition is genetic and causes her vanity and self esteem issues, which is her biggest problem, but Masumi’s is from environmental stress. Masumi doesn’t hate himself, the world seems to hate him, but while the world seems to love Heiran, she hates herself.

While Yuta’s body’s arthritis was known by doctors, Masumi had never done anything about it and was willing to risk ruining his future to not feel like he was nothing in the face of his condition the way the world did- an extremely unhealthy outlook. Yuta knows how the world sees him and hates it, but doesn’t want to crumble and obsess over it and ruin his life. He feels both bad for Heiran and slightly judgmental as she allows herself to obsess over it with a desperation for everyone else to see her differently. Yuta in that sense is an opposite to Heiran, who was born at the top, but she hates herself because the beauty industry thrives off of making people hate themselves. Yuta came from the bottom, literally formed because his brain and body could not cope with any more stress, but he is fine with what he is, and he doesn’t want to chase anyone else’s love.

If it’s ok with you I might talk abt another character next too-

Yuta being an introject of Yuri is interesting, and I don't think you have to worry about copyright all that much like by just vaguing what his source is

[yourcousinthrockmortonskates]

Ok, I'll say it.

I don't agree with Dr. Kohen. He gives his definition of genocide and then says that Israel is not committing a genocide... by that simplified definition.

I think it's entirely neglectful and irresponsible to not walk through the full definition of a genocide when discussing a topic like this. Because not all massacres are genocides, and not all genocides require there to be massacres. I find stating that Israel is not committing a genocide so matter of factly, as Dr. Kohen did in class, is disrespectful of previous discussions about the situation in Israel and disagreements in the definition of genocide academically. Had I known that's where we were going to start - I would have had my notes ready. But alas. I'm not going to start arguing unprepared with the professor when he holds all the cards. I only had my notes prepared once we started talking about conspiracy theories, and by then I didn't want to derail the conversation. However, I am not the only one to think that the current situation is or will progress into a genocide if Israel does not stop.

To actually look at the full definition of a genocide according to the UN and how it relates to the situation in Gaza, we have to look at the UN's Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide. First, I want to look at these notes included at the end of the linked webpage.

The intent is the most difficult element to determine. To constitute genocide, there must be a proven intent on the part of perpetrators to physically destroy a national, ethnical, racial or religious group. Cultural destruction does not suffice, nor does an intention to simply disperse a group. It is this special intent, or dolus specialis, that makes the crime of genocide so unique. In addition, case law has associated intent with the existence of a State or organizational plan or policy, even if the definition of genocide in international law does not include that element. Importantly, the victims of genocide are deliberately targeted - not randomly – because of their real or perceived membership of one of the four groups protected under the Convention (which excludes political groups, for example). This means that the target of destruction must be the group, as such, and not its members as individuals. Genocide can also be committed against only a part of the group, as long as that part is identifiable (including within a geographically limited area) and “substantial.”

I include this particular section of the convention because I think it is part of the reason the actions of Israel are not now being recognized as a genocide. Israel not so secretly wants to eliminate Hamas - and officials like Herzog are willing to let civilians pay for the crimes of Hamas since they have "missiles in their kitchens". However, even if every single civilian in Gaza was a member of or supported Hamas, Hamas is not a recognized group that can be genocided, whether you see them as terrorists, a militant Palestinian party, or freedom fighters.

So then the intent of eradicating Palestinians has to be proven... but Israel isn't stupid. Outside of the wild rightwingers like Ben-Gvir (who has since stated he just wants to kill all terrorists and not all Arabs.... sure), Israeli officials are not going to explicitly and openly state that all Palestinians are unwelcome and should be eliminated from Israel. But it's clear those ideas are not entirely unwelcome - after all, Ben-Gvir, Smotrich, Gallant have made it this far. The more tolerable and outwardly agreeable officials are going to make it farther. That does not mean, however, that the intent is not there. While I'm sure the UN is not planning to condemn Israel for committing a genocide soon, I also don't see a whole lot of condemnation for the genocide of Uyghurs in China or Native Americans in United States history, at least not to point of calling it what it is - a genocide. The genocidal and dehumanizing rhetoric of some Israeli leaders may just be a loud minority, but how many leaders of a state have to commit to these statements before we condemn the state? Actions also speak louder than words, and far more innocent civilians are dying and will die from continued bombing or a ground invasion than Hamas terrorists. We've talked about it in class - Hamas leaders are not relaxing in the poor conditions of Gaza.

Here's the qualifications as defined by the UN's Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide.

I'll address this piece by piece

a. Killing members of the group:

I don't think that anyone would disagree that Israel has killed thousands of Palestinians since the Nakba, and the military power of Israel greatly outmatches Palestine. These deaths have only drastically escalated since the attack by Hamas. According to Reuters, 3,785 Palestinians in Gaza have died since October 7th.

b. Causing serious bodily or mental harm to members of the group

I don't really want to go into detail on bodily, but bombs are not good for human bodies. Some bombs might be from Hamas, but there's also an awful lot from Israel. These bombs cause harm to people's bodies, directly and indirectly.

The mental harm needs to be discussed more though. There is extremely high numbers of PTSD, anxiety, and other conditions caused by the sheer duress of the living conditions in Israel occupied territories, both Gaza and West Bank. These is affecting children more than one. A survey in 2010 found at least 25% middle school aged Palestinian children to be suicidal. After a series of attacks in 2021, 9/10 Gazan children had conflict-related trauma. I'm sure Israeli children are traumatized after the recent attack, just as any person would be after having to hide, but especially at an age where they can't understand it fully - but for Palestinian children, this trauma has been their entire life, their entire parents lives, and it possibly their grandparents. All these articles are before the most recent siege on Gaza too. The mental health of children in Gaza is going to destroy the lives of so many that manage to survive the physical attacks.

c. Deliberately inflicting on the group conditions of life calculated to bring about its physical destruction in whole or in part

This is seen less in the more well-known cases of genocide - so let me propose one more close to home. I think the conditions of our southern border constitute a genocide of immigrants. Illegal or not, they are people looking for a new home in the United States. Walls and border patrol funnel migrants to a specific area - the Sonoran Desert. This is a dry, deadly trek, and desperate people make the attempt with little preparation. But that's the intention. The design might be a form of deterrence, but it also seeks to condemn anyone foolish enough to try and illegally immigrate to the United States. Thousands have died and been left unidentified in the desert, never to return to their loved ones without a name to the body.

As we've discussed in class, the living conditions of Gaza are horrible. And this is due in part to Hamas's control of the area. However, the role of Israel in contributing to these conditions should not be ignored. It was not Hamas that created the blockades of Gaza, though Israel and Egypt can sure use them as an excuse. And the destruction of residential areas with only a fifteen minute warning by Israeli weapons was not Hamas.

Hussam Nabhan, an eyewitness to the attack, told Amnesty International he had received a call he believed to be from an Israeli intelligence officer at around 6pm, saying residents of the building had 15 minutes to evacuate. Hussam told the caller that there were people with disabilities in the building and they needed more time, but the caller just repeated the warning.  After the strike, 22-year-old Haneen Nabhan was so traumatized she found it hard to talk, saying that her wheelchair had been buried under the rubble of her home so she could no longer move around independently.  Research by Amnesty International found no evidence that the Nabhan building – and other residential buildings destroyed or damaged during the last two days of the offensive – had been used to store weapons or any other military equipment or that rockets had been launched from their direct vicinity.

d. Imposing measures intended to prevent births within this group

The living conditions of Gaza is not the kind someone would want to bring children into. It's also hard to give safe births with a understaffed and damaged hospitals or when the hospitals left do not have clean water or electricity.

e. Forcibly transferring children of the group to another

An example of this in the North America would be Native American children and residential schools. The history of these institutions in the United States and Canada is horrendous - the anecdotes of what children were forced to go through as well as the erasure of their culture cannot be dismissed in discussions of genocide. There is the proposed distinction between culture and ethnicity, instead making something like the erasure of a culture to be ethnocide rather than genocide. Regardless of the vocabulary chosen, it is a horrible thing to do to any human and violates their freedom and autonomy. Some children in residential schools never returned to their families and they were forced to assimilate. I appreciate this artwork from a man who survived a the Blue Quills Indian Reservation School in Canada - I had the pleasure to see it in person last year; I've included my own image below so it is more clear, but the artist lists all he has lost: his parents, his grandparents, his traditional beliefs, and he left with a broken spirit.

In the case of Palestine, it is not as clear as residential schools. However, these children may be deprived of parents because of high incarceration rates (1/5 Palestinians are arrested and charged under military orders) or because children are detained by the IDF. Being arrested as a child is traumatizing enough, but many children detained experience abuse.

In conclusion... I think it's rash to dismiss the actions of Israel as "not a genocide." Sure, if you look at it with the small lens of the past few weeks, maybe. But with a wider perspective... If anyone was committed to the safety of Palestinians in Israel's government, there would not have to have been a terrorist attack to ignite a response from Israel. There should have already been response, and more than the slow paced progress that had been happening. The current response of bombing supposed Hamas centers is not going to eliminate Hamas. And any kind of dismissal of a ceasefire because then what will happen with the hostages is ridiculous - Israel does not care about the hostages, and they have killed hostages in their bombing. They can say it is a mission to safely save the captives, but again, actions speak louder than words, and bombing areas where captives are being held and not negotiating for their return will not result in a safe return for hostages. These collective punishments will not erase Hamas, and the primary victims of this are Palestinian and Israeli hostages who cannot stop it. Opening the Rafah Crossing for aid is a great step in the right direction, but one step is not going to bring peace.

This does not mean Israel shouldn't exist. States can commit genocides and still exist, I mean check out the US that I critiqued earlier. I agree that having a state that is welcome and safe to Jewish people is important - and Israel seems like the the best route for that at this point. It should not be at the cost of other people's rights to also safely exist in the only place they've ever known.

[almostbeardedeagle]

Positive Stigmas

Just because there are many negative stigmas surrounding Christians that are not true, this does not mean the positive ones are false as well. I have been approached for personal help by others as well as to participate in religious activities because they have seen my necklace. I believe it is extremely important to help others and, in general, live a life of purity and morality. Many people recognize that Christians have a standard set of morals that they follow and typically see them as a kind-hearted and helpful group. Christians are referred to as following life with “a purely social and secular sanction like honor, with its threat of social ignominy, provides a much stronger disincentive to oath breaking than does the fear of otherworldly punishment on which the Christian faith relies to keep its exponents in line.” (Pacheco 255). This may seem like a confusing choice of words, and to be honest it is somewhat hard to understand. The main point that this is stating, however, is that Christians hold themselves to an extremely high standard and want to live a life that pleases God. They fear God and choose to live a life with the goal of eternal life and to bring others to faith while fearing eternal damnation. The true purpose of a life lived with pure intentions and morals is to live a life that is pleasing in God’s eyes and that represents God and the Christian faith well to others. By living a life like this, we hope that someone who is not a Christian may want to learn more about our faith because of our actions. Christians live their life in a way to please their Father in Heaven, and try to follow their morals to represent themselves well to the world. That is why you may see so many Christians who do wear a cross to outwardly show others who we are and what we believe in hopes that we set a good example of what a Christian is and that we may possibly guide others to faith.

[puzzleshipper4life]

Sibyl System: Kogami and Makishima

A little analysis I did with @akutagxwa-ryunosuke about Makishima's and Kagami's view on the Sybil System. I took over Kagami's part (a surprise to no one) and she did Makishima's.

Let's briefly summarize how the government in Psycho Pass is structured:

Japan has completely sealed itself off from the outside world.

There is no judiciary or child protection laws. The young people go through a test and then receive recommendations on what they should later do professionally. Individuality and free decisions do not exist. Artificial intelligence manages their life so that they hardly have to do anything by themselves.

The Sybill system decides in advance who gets to live or die without even committing a crime in the first place. A coefficient is used to assess a person's psyche and decide whether they still belong to society or not. Based on a value, the Hue of their Psycho-Pass, which, as you learn in the series, can also go down again.

Stress is enough to judge someone as a latent criminal.

People have lived in this machine-controlled world for so long that they have forgotten what violence is. This becomes clear from the scene where a woman is beaten to death in cold blood in the middle of the street. People are just watching and don't understand what is actually happening and the robots that are there to ensure safety prompt the dying woman to go to therapy as her stress level has increased.

A system that relies on only one value to judge whether someone is dangerous or not is flawed. Because once there are abnormalities (like Shogo Makishima), the system is useless.

The mere fact that there are people that have been classified as a criminal by the system and are used to do good (enforcers) is contradictory already. This only shows that a high value says nothing about the person.

Makishima Shogo:

"I just long for a world in which everyday things are done in an everyday way. That's all I really want."

In other words, he believes that the system must be abolished. He believes that it is turning its citizens into non-thinking cog instead of independent thinking human beings. And his goal is to bring down this very system even by the means of civil war. Makishima personally states that he wants to see "the splendor of people's souls" and outwardly disdains humanity's current way of living, considering humans worthless due to their dependence on the Sibyl System. And he can only see these souls when people do something they do of their own free will, something the system doesn't allow them to do.

Makishima begins to tell people that the reason he is criminally asymptomatic is because the Sibyl System believes that all his actions are “good” including him killing innocent people. And because he's convinced that he's only doing the right thing, the system believes this as well. It's an interdependence.

His plan was the following:

- Find out what the system is and make people understand that the system is in fact not as safe as told because for example the system cannot punish people like him

- Start an uprising as a diversion so that they can get to the core undisturbed

- Destroy the system in the tower so that people are free. Or if that isn't possible, publish what the system actually is so that society itself will rebel against it and abolish it, because such a system can only be destroyed by the majority. You have to want it destroyed

Why does he think so?

Probably because he is different from all the others. From the very beginning he never really belonged to society as he can control his psycho pass. What at first seems like a blessing is actually the opposite. In such a society, controlled by this system, a person like him has problems with his identity. He cannot relate with anything or anyone. He, as one who possesses the ultimate freedom and individuality, is trapped in a society that doesn't have it. He is alone and that's how he understood that this applies not only to him but to everyone else. Everyone lives only for themselves. (Sadly there is almost zero info about his childhood)

"You say some funny things. Solitude? Does that only apply to me? Who isn't alone in this society? The time when our connection to others was a basis of ourselves is long gone. In this world where everyone is watched over by the system and live within the system's standards, a community isn't necessary. Everyone just lives in their own cell, and the system tames them by giving them each their personal serenity." -Makishima Shogo, Episode 22

Kogami Shinya:

When he was an Inspector he used to believe that the system took into consideration that not everyone can fit into society. You must strive to achieve happiness for most people, not all.

"A perfect society is achieved by giving up a perfect society" -Shinya Kogami, Episode 1 (Extended Edition)

That is the basis of the Sybil System for him. However, Sasayama's death shouldn't have ever happened in a society governed by the Sybil System and all it stood for. And the culprit, not only wasn't executed, but neither was he caught.

Kagami's faith in the Sybil System was shook by that fact alone and the sight of Sasayama's disfigured body probably led to his Crime Coefficient raise. Then became an Enforcer, not only because of his detective skills, but in order to protect other Inspectors such as himself from having their Psycho-Pass worsen. That's why he oftentimes wonders alone. He wants to be the only one who bears the sin of potentionally killing people for a system that could very well be unjust.

"We'll hunt the pray and you'll observe. That's all there is to it... the one who is responsible for our actions is you, the Inspector" -Episode 1

When he notices all the weird behavior of the higher ups on the Makishima case, and the fact that he was personally removed from it, he can say for sure that the system is corrupt. He even saw a Dominator changing into Elimination Mode when touched by the Chief. He no longer wants any part of that. The only way to protect this society for him is to take matters into his own hands and eliminate the threat by himself. He was done serving a completely corrupt system.

He saw the smaller picture. Try and help others like him and his partner from facing the same fate. It is only when Makishima appears that everything changes. Not only because of their connection, if you may, but also because he has a connection to the Sasayama case and still can't be judged by thr system. That, along with the fact that the system wanted him alive for some reason, which was pretty obvious, led to him abolishing his own beliefs and killing him no matter the means

[flickeringart]

Mars Retrograde in the natal chart

I’ve written about planets in retrograde in the natal chart before, find the post about Mercury, Venus and Mars here and the post about Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune and Pluto here.

In this post I’m going a bit deeper into Mars Rx.

As we all probably know, Mars is the planet of personal drive, aggression, assertiveness and outward directed energy. Mars it works on behalf of the personality as the warrior – as forward movement, strength and desire. Mars enables us to be goal oriented, to stand up for ourselves and have a sense of direction and momentum. Depending on the sign Mars is in, the style in which one goes about one’s interests will vary. For example, an Aries Mars will be direct, impulsive, straightforward, loud, non-apologetic and open in taking action. Taurus Mars will be calm, patient, stubborn and energy preserving. Gemini will be cerebral, creative, mischievous and all over the place. Cancer Mars will be careful and protective of emotions while trying to secure a goal. Leo Mars will be demonstrative, proud and demanding. Virgo Mars will be purposeful and practical, going over the steps required to reach a specific goal. Libra Mars will try to smoothly get other people to get on board with one’s direction without ruffling any feathers, usually through using reason and logic. Scorpio Mars will assert its will “undercover” often through subtle yet effective emotional blackmail and strategy. Sagittarius Mars will be bold and restless, potentially quite clumsy and funny. Capricorn Mars will be serious, patient, mature, responsible and steadfast. Aquarius Mars will potentially be acting on behalf of a collective mission and thought-movement, considering what lies in the best interest of the “group”. Pisces Mars will be easily directed by influences from the environment, compassionate, soft and a bit confusing.

Having Mars direct in the natal chart means that desire is merged with action. In other words, action is employed in the name of desire. In the most basic sense, a person sees something of value (Venus) and Mars is the one who is in charge of conquering it. Venus and Mars can’t really be discussed separately for this reason because something has to catch one’s attention (Venus) in order for there to be anything to attain and achieve. Simply put, Venus is the object, person, place of esteem and Mars is the force that is in charge of closing the gap between the person and that which is desired.

When Mars is retrograde in the natal chart the drive to achieve is equally as strong as with Mars direct, but it is turned inward instead of being directed outward. This causes inner frustration, pent-up energy and often feelings of being ineffectual – unable to directly go after what one wants. Many sources state that since Mars is a masculine planet, Mars Rx is more bothersome for men, as women tend to not suffer from lacking in masculine traits as acutely because of identification with femininity (Venus). This is probably true, yet women will similarly experience the debilitating effects of Mars Rx – sometimes through the lover and partner of choice.

Some sources state that natives with Mars Rx had a childhood where they were not allowed to get angry or to stand up for themselves. Perhaps no one listened or bothered, perhaps displays of aggression were forcefully disapproved of and punished. There could have been a lack of support of the native taking initiative and paving his or her own path. I have had the reverse experience of being accused of not being assertive enough. I have Mars Rx in Virgo in the 3rd house and I was constantly criticized for lack of extroversion growing up, particularly in school (the 3rd house rules lower education) by teachers and peers. I was “too quiet”, “too inhibited”. In a sense, I was attacked for my “lack of Mars”. Unfortunately, I think this is quite common for people with Mars in Rx, we seem to invite aggression (in my case criticism because Virgo rules my 3rd house) in the area of life (house) that Mars is placed. I never attempted to “strike back” but kept my own pent up anger inside feeling worse and worse about myself, humiliated, yet for some reason unable to project the intensity outwardly – probably because it would only have caused me more reprimanding. However, the positive thing I’ve noticed with Mars Rx is that I have the ability to act independently of outside influences. In a sense I can act without desire being merged with action. Or rather, I can choose to redirect the build-up of intensity into unrelated activity. It’s definitely counter-intuitive, but it’s very useful in situations where one is required to act despite of a goal. Since people with Mars Rx have an obscure desire nature, there’s the ability to simply put one foot in front of the other and see what comes of the action.

(Buy products with my art here)

There’s something to be said about inviting aggression from the outside with Mars Rx. Other people seem to want to cause a reaction by provoking the Mars Rx person to make them stand up for themselves and display some assertiveness. This never works because Mars Rx people don’t react defensively to personal attacks on the spot. They sit tight, face the situation calmly yet is feeling a build-up of energy that is likely going to erupt later, when the situations has passed and when it’s no longer relevant. They get angry with themselves for not acting on the spot, for not saying the things they wanted to say and display the strength that they really do possess. Mars Rx people often question their potency and can beat themselves up for not being more willful. As stated, the bouts of anger come only at a later time, which does nothing to gain the individual a reputation of being impactful. The moment has passed and the opportunity to strike is gone. It’s important to not be too hard with oneself, Mars Rx isn’t a character flaw, it’s part of one’s unique blueprint and one would do better focusing on the benefits rather than the down-sides. Mars is after all about confidence and there’s no reason why Mars Rx should settle for feeling “less than” confident. The key is to not look for external proof of one’s potency and be content with knowing that one is powerful despite appearances of lack of assertiveness. With Mars Rx one should avoid comparing oneself to other people. Comparison and competitiveness don’t benefit these people, for obvious reasons. Measuring one’s strength against another will leave one feeling neither strong nor confident because the strength of Mars Rx is passive and felt internally.

In order to not feel emasculated with Mars Rx, one has to be squarely doing one’s own thing and avoid caring about what other people think one should do or even what oneself think one should do based on social values. This is the only way to be happy with this natal planet in my opinion. Stop competing = stop depleting, stop comparing = stop caring. Mars Rx people have the opportunity to be real individualists when they start valuing their internal integrity rather than the outward display of it. In a sense, Mars Rx is a very pure Mars. It’s simple action, unmotivated and unresponsive. It will not win us any battles in the moment; Mars Rx doesn’t build any momentum, energy is extended outward in bursts, starts and stops. The approach that works the best is to let action flow through, rather than directing it deliberately. This is usually going to translate into a quite soft energy but it can be quite beautiful. The famous male ballet dancer Mikhail Baryshnikov had Mars Rx – he was especially admired for his gracious jumps and seemingly effortless soaring in his dancing. He’s a good example of Mars Rx manifesting in a very powerful way – he uses his Mars to move independently in a non-confronting “Venusian fashion”. Yet, no one could claim that he lacks strength. The famous basket player Michael Jordan also has Mars Rx and he is widely considered one of the greatest basketball player of all time. It makes sense that dance and sport should suit these people because these activities require starts and stops more than building momentum.

Mars Rx has a reputation for being sluggish and lethargic. I think this is inaccurate to accept as a rule, but it is certainly possible for these people to seem like they are. Other people often perceive Mars Rx people to be at least very chill and calm, which is not always the case, it’s just that the boil hasn’t reached the surface yet and when it does, it’s out of tune with the outer situation and its momentum. The Mars Rx person might sit tight in a social interaction, never showing any sign of annoyance or agitation, despite being pissed off. It might be frustrating to not be able to release energy directly but Mars Rx energy is better channeled into purposeful activity, into independent action. Some sources claim that Mars Rx can be prone to self-destructive behavior and self-harm because of pent-up energy and unexpressed anger. I think this is true, especially if one lives in a very hostile environment and has a hard time, because of one’s Mars Rx, to do something about it – to fight back, to spontaneously immerse oneself in “combat” and defend oneself. It could also be because one’s aggression, when openly displayed, is turned to a social disadvantage. People might claim that one is “over-reacting” because the anger response is out of proportion with the situation at hand. “Over-reacting” is common problem for people with Mars Rx, because they’re typically calm, until they burst – and then they’re commonly labeled crazy or even abusive. There’s no way to “win” socially with Mars Rx, I find – either one is accused of being too passive or too reactive. This social disadvantage could easily turn into self-hate and self-rejection, because one doesn’t get any approval from the outside. Depression is sometimes linked to planets in retrograde, and this is quite understandable, in the light of everything that they imply. Depression is after all often associated with repressed anger, of a blocked drive and frustrated desire.

People with Mars Rx say that it gets better with age and that Mars is gradually more easily expressed because of experience and understanding of oneself. This might be partly due to Mars going direct in one’s progressed chart, however, one cannot make Mars go direct in one’s natal chart, it is a fixed blueprint that one will have to contend with. This is not to say that one cannot become more conscious of one’s own psychology.