#what am i meant to do with this information

[pedgito]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄 | Joel Miller x reader

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summary | Joel hates change, but you introduced the idea that letting someone else take charge isn't always bad.

author's note | horrible summary but just know that man is dow horrifically bad. i don't think i need to explain what inspired this. i recommend a mix of father figure by george michael and i'm on fire by bruce springsteen on a constant repeat while reading this, for the vibes <3 thank you @chaotic-mystery for beta'ing and constantly making me laugh

content warning | 18+ MDNI, sub!joel, no outbreak, power dynamics (he's your boss), age gap (shocker), lots of open communication, vague plot, oral (m & f receiving), unprotected piv, creampies, cum eating, restraints, joel eating the puss with no hands, use of a cockring, joel's a real good boy, open-ended

word count — 7k

“You ever thought about lettin’ someone else take control?”

Tommy’s staring over the dirtied tupperware in his hands, the heel of his boot squeaking against Joel’s cluttered desk, who’s staring down at the mess of paperwork before his eyes flick up briefly at his brother, glaring.

“And run this place into the ground?”

“Joel, look at this place,” Tommy gestures lazily toward the space.

It is a mess—paperwork misorted, information scribbled on a calendar long forgotten underneath the pile, sticky notes scattered throughout, and Joel’s brain running a million thoughts per second on top of the physical work he’s providing throughout the company.

He’d taken on the position thinking it would be a good thing, a breather, after years of working only physical labor—extra money, more security for his daughters as they entered college, always feeling the support of him even miles away. But, it had slowly begun to overtake his life, his weekends that used to be spent watching football games and drinking in his backyard, were forced into four walls.

He can’t even remember that last time he’s had the chance to have a night out.

Gone on a date.

Hell, even sex was nonexistent.

“Hiring someone means training and you and I both know we don’t have the time—”

“That’s why you hire someone with experience—and vet ‘em. You know what, I’ll ask Maria if she can help out with finding someone. Lord knows you’ll never make a decision.”

“I am your boss, remember?” Joel threatens lightly, tossing a dry, unusable pen on his desk, mirroring his brother as he raises a foot on his desk and leans back, arms crossed over his chest, “Maybe work would be less of a pain in the ass if I jus’ fired ‘ya.”

“Yeah, but then who’s gonna deal with all your cryin’?”

Joel tosses a balled up napkin at Tommy’s head, one that he dodges with ease as it flies over his head, barely missing the trashcan on the other side of the room as it slumps to the floor.

“Just try it out—ain’t nothing bad about change, brother.”

For Joel, it meant relinquishing the control he wasn’t ready to offer up.

–

You fidget nervously in the chair in the front office, heart hammering in your chest.

First impressions were always nerve-wracking, but with Joel, and the preface you were given by both Maria and Tommy, who had led you through the hiring process, made it seem like he was nearly unbearable at times.

The door to his office creaks open right on time, not a second after.

He’s dressed up, slacks and a tight button-up paired with loosely slicked back hair, peppered with grays that dissolved into his trimmed facial hair, a permanent scowl on his face as he greets you, head down and following you as you slipped by his large, stocky frame.

As the door clicks closed, he begins with audible uncertainty, “I’m not sure what all my brother and his wife told you, but—”

You interrupt firmly, attempting to assert your unique approach at dominance when men like him, slinging your bag into one of the two chairs positioned in front of his desk.

“So—I manage the day to day. I can handle calls, within reason, unless you like doing that yourself,” Truthfully, it wasn’t his favorite thing although it was the most important—selling the company, getting the customers, Joel could be a smooth talker when he wanted, “for paperwork, I’m scarily organized and I’ll take care of all,” You look around at the tornado of receipts and contracts scattered around, “this.”

“What about lunch?” Joel inquires jokingly.

“And breakfast,” You answer nonchalantly, “Listen, I’m here to help you.”

“I’m used to handling all of this alone, so forgive me if I’m—”

“Territorial,” You finish for him, eyebrows raising inquisitively as Joel cracks a faint smirk.

You cross one foot over the other and clasp your hands together, connecting with his gaze as he stands a few feet away, hands shoved into his pockets, and he opens his mouth like he wants to argue or protest against the word, but you smile knowingly.

“I’m used to it,” You assure him, “Mr. Miller—Joel, I’m not…sure what you prefer. The goal is balance, your brother mentioned something about you sleeping here sometimes.”

“Just Joel is fine,”Joel tells you, glancing sheepishly at the messy couch, a blanket and pillow balled up on one cushion.

“That’s not happening anymore,” You assure him, “and don’t think you’re overwhelming me. I need a list of everything you want me to cover—I’m your assistant, so if helping means grabbing you breakfast every morning, I’ll do it.”

It takes an hour of conversation and convincing before you finally manage to lead Joel toward his desk, inadvertently organizing some of the paperwork as he wrote down a list that grew and grew as you talked, giggling to yourself as he would occasionally scribble out a word and then rewrite it down.

You’ve dealt with plenty of men like him, an unwillingness to hand the leash over, gripped tightly around his hand—Joel just needed a shove and some reassurance.

And within a few weeks, after you’ve managed to introduce an entirely new filing system to keep things organized, color-coded his calendar, and started taking calls while he would make his rounds to check on the employees posted at different locations around the city, he realizes that he can breathe a little easier.

It’s also a mighty big plus that he doesn’t have to spend twenty minutes in the pick-up line for a black coffee and bagel or concern about lunch before deciding to skip it entirely.

You spend most of your time with him, learning subtle nuances and quirks that help you decipher his steely expression and non-existent personality. Tommy, who was outwardly joyful and shamelessly extroverted, was the complete opposite of Joel, who was reserved in all aspects of his life.

“Forgot how greasy these damn things are,” Joel gripes lightheartedly as he pulls the paper away from the double cheeseburger, sipping at his soda as you tap away quietly on his computer, watching him briefly from the opposite side of the desk as you took up residence in his chair for the moment, “what’re you doin’ again exactly?”

You silently pass him a napkin which he grabs wordlessly.

“I’m scheduling a week off for you and clearing your schedule so you won’t have to worry about anything,” You tell him, the line returning between his brow as he chews.

“I didn’t approve that,” He says around a mouthful, wiping at the corner of his mouth with the crumpled napkin, “besides I ain’t got the time—”

“The last time you took off was,” You pause for an extended amount of time, searching back through the calendar before you spot it, “two years ago for…”

“Graduation,” He answers quietly, “for Sarah and Ellie.”

His daughters, who he always spoke of fondly, pictures scattered around his office.

You were a few years older, wondering if the reason he was so reluctant to your help was your age, wondering if you truly had the experience to handle the workload.

“Exactly,” You answer sharply, “And your birthday falls within that week, so you’re not going to argue with me.”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

You grin triumphantly, snatching a fry from his to-go tray.

–

By September, Joel has fully settled into having you around. It’s only been a few months and he’s already able to spend more weekends at home and occasionally get back to more physical labor when his body agrees with it, unfortunately the company was heading toward a rush, a quickly moving train with no end in sight.

It was the third late night in a week after Joel had returned from his much needed vacation and you’re working quietly at writing down a plethora of dollar amounts to work out on the white board beside his desk before he huffs, leaning back in his chair as he curls his fingers behind his head and grimaces at the stress, forehead shining with a sheen of sweat.

Oh, yeah—and the AC was broken.

They were scheduled to fix it at the end of the week, but for now, it was thin dresses and loose fitting clothing and Joel, who was sticking to jeans and a casual, worn-out shirt. Your hair was tossed over one shoulder as your head tilted, arm extended up as the marker squeaked against the board, unknowing of his eyes that dragged along the expanse of your body.

He’s never shown any interest, not really. Almost always respectful, sometimes too much.

He’s asked about your life, your interests, whether you were thinking of marriage or not—it all felt wholly casual. You knew he had never been married, that he’s raised both of his daughters alone aside from the help of his brother Tommy, and that he rarely went on dates.

You tried helping him once, even scheduling his work day around the date to accommodate and allow him the opportunity, but you were ultimately greeted with his sour expression an hour after lunch.

“She kept tellin’ me how much I reminded her of her ex-husband,” Joel had told you, your hand covering your mouth in both shock and amusement, watching as he slumped into the chair and loosened the cuffs on his shirt. You weren’t sure how anyone could pass up on that.

Now, you can sense his discomfort. Like an aura. 

Lately, you’ve felt like an extension of him. He sensed it too, with you seeming to say things he’s thinking, in your own words, always knowing exactly what he needs, whether it was just a moment to himself or a day of you handling other work while he hid away in his office to handle the overload of calls.

You’re not sure why you stop writing, but you do. The pull guides you to him, moving silently, watching as he leaned forward on his desk, head slung down as he rolled his neck and quietly, your hands curl around his shoulders to squeeze, digging deep into the knotted muscles.

He’s quiet for a moment, both savoring the feeling and processing the situation.

First, he speaks your name, like a warning.

“You’re stressed, let me help,” You comfort him, watching as his shoulders relax with the effort of your hands, now completely slouched against his desk as your hand drags around his shoulder blade and back up, thumbs pressing into the base of his neck as he groans quietly, “does it hurt?”

Joel shakes his head, allowing the press to continue before he slowly pushes up, reaching blindly for your hand before you swat it away, “It’s just a massage, Joel. Relax.”

That wasn’t the issue.

He won’t admit it either, his face blushing as he leans his head back, feeling the delicious pinch of skin as you work out the difficult and stress-filled knots, eyes closed as his lips part.

You smirk slightly, watching the mess of his soft brown curls caress your breasts and he situates himself in his chair, slowly curling your fingers over his shoulder as his bottom lip quakes, shivers.

He whimpers.

He hears it, you hear it.

Joel’s eyes peel open in apology but you shush him, the cold touch of your fingers dragging along his neck, in perfect position to take hold and you’re almost positive Joel wouldn’t try to stop you.

“Don’t—don’t say it,” You nod to reassure him, dragging your other hand over his clammy skin, pushing his hair away from his face as you tug at the strands gently.

Joel nods obediently, swallowing as his hand glides over his crotch, rubbing through the denim of his jeans, cock swelling slowly underneath as he presses the heel of his palm against it for a sliver of relief. 

You both ignore how quickly the lines have blurred, glaringly aware of the unlocked door to Joel’s office as the massage transforms into something much more nefarious, your fingers slipping underneath the fabric of his shirt and against his skin, through the coarse hair on his chest, not a single reaction as his right hand curls around the back of his chair to twist around your thigh, pulling your knee up on the armrest.

With the slight adjustment, you notice his hand squeezing tight at his jeans, desperately trying to avoid his obvious want, attempting to stifle the desire and not acknowledge it.

“It’s been a while, huh?” You ask softly, too scared to startle him.

Joel nods, blinking slowly as his eyes fall on your lips and the way they curl slightly over your teeth and into a thin line at his response.

“Since someone touched you like this?” You inquire further, feeling his fingers squeeze at your thigh as your hands work like magic over his skin, trailing down his chest and twisting into his hair, his eyes fluttering closed at the interaction.

“At all,” He admits, “s’been so long—m’sorry, sweetheart.”

“Don’t apologize,” You tell him, sensing the regret as it invades his thoughts, quickly quelling the feeling, “I think—I think I can help you.”

Joel sighs, breathing out through his nose, “I’m your boss.”

Obviously, you think.

“On paper, maybe—but you’ve had no problem listening to me,” You tease, the slightest hint of shame on his face at your words—he’s guilty, he knows it—”in fact, I don’t think you realized how much you liked it, until now.”

The voice trailing along the hallway breaks you both out of your trance, slowly pulling your touch away as your leg falls, Joel’s fingers yearning for a final touch as they dig into your skin.

“Easy,” He cautions, looking down at his desk as he pulls at his jeans, adjusting the obvious discomfort of his stiff cock as it waned, “not—not here.”

“Gimme your phone,” You urge, holding your hand out expectantly.

He hands it over with an air of skepticism, your finger tapping against the screen quietly before you pass it back to him, the device dwarfed in his large palm.

“If you’re not busy tonight,” You say quietly, increasingly careful as you hear Tommy’s voice carry throughout the office, “I put my address into your phone, it's in your favorites. Should be easy to find.”

An invitation. 

Like dangling a treat in front of him, waiting to see if he’d take the bait.

-

He’s starving, fortunately.

He sits through dinner with Tommy and Maria, a regular occasion as Joel is often horrible at taking care of himself, surviving on very little sleep and a couple meals a day, often supplied by you.

He should take better care of himself. He knows that.

Regardless, he’s jittery as he pulls up to the apartment complex his phone led him to, parking in the garage attached as he sends you a single text around ten o’clock that night.

Your phone dings on your kitchen counter, finishing up pouring out your glass of wine as you pull it toward you with a single drag of your finger.

Joel: Here. Apartment number?

You chuckle at his straightforward nature that translates loudly through the tiny letters on your screen, quietly tapping out a response before you push your phone aside.

As you’re rounding the counter to head toward your couch, the deep knocks follow, wondering if he’d already been perusing and got lucky he was near.

You turn the knob and pull the door open as you press the glass to your lips, taking in the sight of a man who looks and feels entirely out of place. 

His eyes follow your state of undress, assuming you were ready to climb into bed with the silk shorts that clung to your hips and the scantily cropped top to match, barely covering your breasts.

He’s changed since work, only trading the denim for a much softer material to cover his legs, a fresh shirt, his hair mused like he’s been running his fingers through it with worry and unsurety. 

“How was your night?” You ask casually, moving to allow him the room to step inside your apartment, closing the door behind you as you head toward the fridge, silently grabbing for a beer—his favorite just happened to be your own, so it worked out perfectly.

“Fine,” He grumbles, watching as you hand him a now opened beer and push by him, but not before your fingers drift against his own, pulling him alongside until you reach the couch.

His fingers curl around yours without a second thought.

“You started talkin’ about football and Tommy went on one of his rants again, didn’t he?”

He’s used to it by now, how well you can assess him.

“S’almost like you were there,” He chuckles, tipping the beer to his lips and taking a long chug, “did I bother you? I know it’s late.”

You shake your head, allowing him to finish up a decent amount of his beer and your glass of wine before you’re plucking the glass from his hands and tucking it away on the table.

“Have you done this before?“ Joel asks softly, a deep gravelly timbre to his voice as your ass angles up, leaning off the couch to dispose of the drinks before you’re climbing over his lap, quietly raising your hands to cradling his face.

He doesn’t look at you for too long, not allowing the weight of the situation to settle quite yet, selfishly roving the expanse of exposed skin, feeling your hands grip his own to guide them to your hips.

“Does it matter?” You ask, dragging your thumb along his beard, rubbing at the bare patch of skin on his cheek, “Would it make you feel better if I said yes?”

“No.”

A small sliver of tongue peeks through your teeth as you bite down, grinning openly at him and his sheepish gaze.

“You’re my first—is that what you wanna hear?”

You can feel the bluntness of his nails dig into your skin at your words—oh, he that is exactly what he wanted.

“I’m just—M’not sure what I’m supposed to do here, sweetheart.”Joel responds instead, licking his lips before they pull together in a tight line.

“Would whiskey help? I got whiskey,” You respond cheekily, “I’ll get you some. Stay put.”

Joel chuckles nervously, “Yes, ma’am.”

You climb off his lap and disappear into your kitchen, reaching into the cabinet for a glass before crouching down to retrieve the liquor hidden away, hearing the soft and subtle rustling as Joel adjusts more comfortably on the couch, his shoes now removed and tossed haphazardly toward the coffee table. 

“If you—if you haven’t done this before,” Joel pauses as you return, making immediately room for you on his lap as you press the glass into his waiting hand, “why’d you offer?”

“Men pay me to boss them around, plenty of men like you,” It was a loose description, but it was the one strong suit you’ve prided yourself in, corralling stubborn men, “I like it and I’m good at it.”

“Clearly.” Joel comments under his breath, a small scoff of astonishment slipping past your lips as you force the glass to his own lips in a silent command.

“I don’t make it a habit to have sex with them, f’that is what you’re really worried about. They’re all married, miserable, but married. And I don’t like the mess of getting involved. Any time I’ve moved on it’s been because of that.”

Joel continues to drink by your aid, downing the rest of it as you continue to speak.

“You’re not married, you’re not complicated. You’ve been respectful. This isn’t you approaching me—I made that move, I just gave you an offer. One, which, you can still bail on and I won’t be upset. I won’t quit, either.”

As the liquor takes hold, Joel seems to relax, the tension in his body dissipating as you slowly trace the lines of his face and body with your fingers, explorative within reason.

“I guess we should set some ground rules,” Joel grunts at the mention, slightly more handsy as his fingers meet at your back, dipping a centimeter below the waistband, “If we do this—I’m in charge, completely. That’s the only way this works, or helps you. And it should be a given, but I’m clean and on birth control. But, it that reassures you—I’d rather you hear it.”

“Jesus Christ,” Joel groans, feeling the immediate loss of his touch as he rubs his hands over his face before stretching them out over the back of the couch.

“I’m just…covering the bases, I’d rather not have the question come across when you’re an inch away from putting your dick inside me, you know?”

“Coverin’ your bases?” Joel echoes, slightly amused.

You grin, climbing off of him slowly as you reach for your phone, fumbling through your playlist before you find a slow, sensual tune to fill the quiet air.

Hey, little girl, is your daddy home?

Did he go away and leave you all alone?

I got a bad desire

Oh, oh, oh, I'm on fire

“Do you dance?” You ask curiously, wandering toward your kitchen for the open wine bottle, half-empty and begging to be consumed.

“Not much—not…not anymore,” Joel doesn’t know he words it so cryptically; he danced, just not well. 

“Tommy told me how, at least, before the girls, how often you two would go line dancing,” Joel’s fingers curl around your hand as it extends, bring the wine bottle to your lips with the other, “now that I have to witness.”

“You and Tommy sure do talk a lot,” Joel notes, looking down at you as your fingers drag along the hair at his nape, “anything else he told you?”

You shake your head nonchalantly, bottom lip jutting out slightly as you sway your hips in time with the lyrics, Joel’s hand covering the full expanse of your own as it wraps around, constantly mesmerized by the sheer size.

The goal was to shake his nerves out, but he seemed to stiffen with your progressive movement as you twirled yourself around, one long gulp of wine before you set the bottle aside and relent, dragging your finger up the fabric of his shirt before you squeeze at the collar, pulling him closer.

“Either you dance with me,” You begin, “or I’m dancing for you—your choice.”

His non-answer is enough, forcing him back onto the couch before you’re shoving the table out of the way and turning up the volume to the rhythmic tune.

You’d convince him eventually, dying to see those skills come back to life, even if it was just a glimpse.

“Put your hands under your legs,” You instruct him casually, eyes tracking up as you watch his chest puff out with the motion, fitting his hands under his thighs without argument.

Huh, that was easy. 

Time was a teller, though, and you were curious how long it would last. 

—

He’s seen glimpses of it before, the soft hum under your breath as you sing the catchy tunes playing on the radio in his office, a subtle sway as you flip through a stack of paperwork or at his desk, the tiniest movement.

But here, now, he’s mesmerized.

He gets it, this is what you wanted.

Joel’s fists have balled up under his thighs, watching you turn away as you dance, the swaying movements pulling at the already short fabric as his eyes follow the way you bend, giving him a full glimpse of your ass.

You giggle softly at his lack of reaction, which wasn’t entirely true, watching his knees widen at the action, subconsciously making room for you despite your distance. 

Yearning. He was yearning for you.

You drop to your knees, crawling toward him slow under the low, ambient light of your living room—a faint glow of pinks and purples, transforming into greens and blues, filtering slowly through colors as your hands grip his knees, sliding up the inside of his thighs tantalizingly slow. 

“So…” Your finger trails around the drawstring of his pants, “at any point that this gets too much or you’re not feeling it, just say stop.”

“That ain’t somethin’ you gotta worry ‘bout.”

“Communication is a good thing, Joel,” You explain, “it’s important—to make sure we’re both benefiting from this. I’m not enjoying this unless you are, alright?”

Joel nods, a raised eyebrow offered in return.

“Yes,” His voice cracks slightly, clearing his throat, “uh—yes, ma’am.” 

“A simple yes would have worked, but I appreciate the manners,” You tease him, knowing he’s always been stuck in his ways, old fashioned and polite. It comes naturally.

Your fingers fold around his waistband and tug, his hips rising at the motion and you hear the breath he’s holding release as his cock springs free, leaking at the tip and begging to be attended to. You grinned, tongue peaking out to lick along the head and around, salty precum hitting your taste buds as you look up at Joel, his eyes falling shut as his hand wraps around your forearm in desperation.

You pull back instantly, gently moving his hand away.

He seems to realize his misstep, silently tuck his hand away under his thigh again as you nod, pulling his pants the rest of the way down and off before you’re licking him from base to tip, fingertips wrapping around his shaft and squeezing alongside the delicate suction of your mouth.

He groans, so deep and guttural you think he might come now, peeking your eyes open to see his head resting back, eyes closed. The sight was too much, having to force some reprieve on himself as you worked your mouth down his cock, head bobbing at a slow, tortuous pace until your throat can relax and take him fully, nearing around eight inches and thick, feeling the stretch of your cheeks alongside the ache in your jaw.

You pull away with watery eyes, a long string of spit connecting you to him, speaking, “If you feel like you’re about to come, say it, don’t lie to me.”

With that, your thumb rubs over the slit of his head, feeling his cock pulse in your hand, squeezing at the tip while his face contorts, lips parting as he breathes out shakily. 

“Oh, fuck—yes—yes fuckin, ma’am.”

He’d rip the stitching in your couch if he gripped it harder, losing his hold on reality as he watches your head move through bleary eyes, the buzz of alcohol tingling his brain as you gag against his cock, held in the back of your throat before he’s stammering out desperately, the familiar tug in his gut that proves just how long it’s been for him, ready to come after only a few minutes of your mouth on him.

He’s embarrassed, the words falling from his lips in a rush, “Stopstop—fuck, stop.”

You pull away quickly, the urgency in his voice startling you as your face contorts in concern.

“Fuck—not like, stop. Jus’ I was about to come. Sorry—sweetheart, I panicked.”

It calms your worry, nodding in response to his words.

“I’ve…actually I have an idea, if you’re okay with it that is.”

He’s suspicious of the glint in your eyes, rising on sore knees as he sat there naked from the waist down, your eyes dragging over his firm, muscled legs before they took in the sight of his cock again, standing proud as it rest against his stomach, the shirt slightly bunched at his chest.

You make the short trek to your room to retrieve the item you were looking for, coming back to Joel massaging his sore wrists, a subtle worry in his eyes that he’s done something wrong.

He eyes the bag in your hand suspiciously, brow raised. 

There were a few items, but the one most notable he reaches for initially, dangling it between two fingers as he asks, “You have that just layin’ around?”

It was a cockring, flexible material that he stretched his fingers before you politely snatched it away.

“What? I picked out a few things. Besides, I couldn’t get you anything for your birthday so consider this a late gift,” He sees right through the sickeningly sweet smile, pushing the bag into his hands as you straddle one thigh, the silk material of your shorts dragging along his bare skin.

“I dunno,” Joel’s hesitant, but not entirely close-off to the idea, “s’that even safe?”

“It is,” You assure him—Joel doesn’t really question it either, “You trust me, don’t you?”

He tries to stifle the small chuckle at your act, batting your lashes as you reach for his hand, settling it against the center of your chest underneath your shirt, the soft press of your breasts squeezing his hand and Joel has to resist the urge to explore further, rifling through the bag one-handed, pulling out a thick piece of cloth, a rich, plum stained fabric. 

“You’re in good hands,” You smile, leaning forward to brush your lips along the shell of his ear, “I promise.”

–

He does touch you now, though careful of his hands wandering too far, spreading you out on your bed sheet with hesitance, sensing that this wasn’t just a moment of uncertainty, but rather unfamiliarity.

“It’s been so long,” He admits, not lost on you, “I’ll try—jus’ might need some remindin’.”

Be vocal, he pleads without asking. Let me hear you.

Done and done.

His hands grip at the back of your thighs, pulling you near the edge of the bed before they’re pushing up, forcing your legs apart as he settles on his knees, stripped of his top and nude, a stark contrast to your clothed state as he pressed his face into the fabric of your shorts, his nose prodding at the seam of your pussy, teeth biting lightly into the fabric.

His eyes trail up, the bottom half of his face obscured as he pressed his mouth into the heat of your cunt through the silk, awaiting your command.

“Grab,” You sigh, his kisses trailing along your thigh and down, lips kisses at the sensitive skin of your ankle, “the bag—the bag,” You point vaguely, forcing him away gently with your opposite foot. 

You’d dropped it on the floor beside Joel in the mess of limbs, the bag hidden underneath his disposed shirt and as he thrusts the small paper bag into your hands you fish for the binding balled up at the bottom of the bag, tossing the rest of the bag aside as you sink to match Joel’s position, gently grabbing his wrists as you guide them behind his back.

“Just to make sure you keep your hands to yourself,” You inform him, face heating under his heavy gaze, looking up at him innocently as you knot the fabric blindly behind his back, tugging when you’re satisfied enough and rising to meet his face, nose brushing against his own at the close proximity, “Do you want a taste, Joel?”

“I’ll take whatever you give me, sweetheart.”

In this light, under the soft glow of streetlights that spilled over into your room, it was like you were seeing a different man, not at all the confident and defiant man you challenge on a day to day, but a man dedicated to you, an eagerness in his expression that you’ve never seen.

“Oh, honey—you’re gonna work for it.”

You crawl back on your hands, rising to perch on the edge of the bed with your legs spread, one foot perched against the mattress as Joel shuffled forward slowly, “Can’t taste you through those shorts, might help if you—”

“Get creative,” You urge, haphazardly pulling your top over your head and throwing it aside for incentive, breasts bouncing softly with the movement and spotting the way Joel swallows, hard.

It made him feel young, this desire that didn’t show itself often. He’s resigned himself to months, years of handling himself; jerking himself off with his hand to satisfy that urge, but never more. He rarely had time then, lucky if he could manage a full eight hours of sleep. 

He leans forward, his teeth digging into the fabric at your hip as he pulls, wrestling with the material as he drags it down your thigh—innovative, you think. You giggle softly at his steadfast gaze, a stubbornness in his scowl as he rips the fabric off. 

Joel doesn’t waste time, licking a long stripe through your already damp underwear, accumulated slick ruining the fabric as he greedily laps you up through the garment, but he hisses when your hand grips into his hair, pulling him back as his scowl grows deeper.

“All of it.” You demand.

You watch as his teeth gripped at the front of your underwear before he’s dragging them down, tossing them aside even more impatiently, like a dog with a chew toy, before he’s pressing his face into your cunt, leaning most of his weight into you as his strong, angular nose presses against your clit, his tongue dipping inside of you instantly, like he was trying to consume you.

A mix of a broken laugh and gasp leaves your mouth as he groans, a slight shake to his head as he attempted to force himself deeper, the movement shifting his nose of your clit in a way that has your entire body curling in on itself, his eyes closed, lost in the taste of you and the warm cradle of your thighs around his head, foot smoothing over his back as you pull him in.

He suckles at your clit as he shifts up, the wet expanse of his tongue sliding over the sensitive bud, responding with a soft noise as your fingers dig into his hair and tug, ““Fuck, you love it like this, don’t you?”

Joel responds with a noise, ignoring your question as his tongue swirls over your clit, repeating the motion repeatedly as your breath hitches, gasping loudly.

“I asked—asked you a question,” You interrupt, pulling him back defiantly, “I’d like an answer.”

“M’sorry, I do—I do,” Joel apologizes, mouth shining with your slick, his beard wet and his cheeks flushed, “jus’ taste so good, sweetheart. Wanna make you feel good—am I doin’ alright?”

“So good,” You tell him softly, your hand cradling his chin as you slide your thumb over his wet lip and through the dampness at his chin before you’re pushing your fingertip into his mouth, letting the pad of your thumb press against his tongue, closing his lips around you finger to suck, “You’re always so messy, you know that?”

Joel chuckles, pulling his mouth away as you slowly guide him back toward your cunt, pulsing around his tongue as it dips inside of you once more, like a tease before he returns the attention toward your clit, groaning as your thighs squeeze tightly around his head, feeling the creeping sensation of your orgasm as it coiled in your gut.

“A damn good meal if ‘ya ask me,” Joel comments, too entranced to chastise his comment as your orgasm spills over, the rush of fluids hitting his tongue as you cry out, his unrelenting tongue making your vision go white.

“That’s good, baby, keep doing that. Just like that,” You encourage weakly, legs shaking with overstimulation as he glares up at you through his half-lidded gaze, his nose smushed against your cunt.

Your fingers sift gently through his hair as you come down, feeling the weight of his head against your thigh as he speaks, “You’re shakin’ like a leaf, sweetheart—y’alright?”

“I am,” He can hear the elation in your voice as you rise slowly, “does it hurt?”

Joel pulls at the binding, loose enough that there's no straining or pinching, he shrugs noncommittally and answers, “If I say yes will you take ‘em off?”

You tilt your head at his subtle mischievous tone, “As long as you’re being truthful.”

“I wanna touch you, if ‘m bein’ honest,” Joel admits.

He’s such a smoothtalker, even now. 

“Fine—but, I’m not finished,” You warn him, “so don’t get any ideas.”

“Oh, yes ma’am.” He agrees wholeheartedly, feigning seriousness. 

It shouldn’t be this easy with him, but it was. 

–

“I’m tryin’ to help you out,” You tease him, fitting the ring around his cock, settled underneath his balls as he stifles the groan of your touch against his overly sensitive skin, having been so close to the edge and losing focus that he’s fallen soft, resting back on his palms as you rub your hand over his chest and down, fingers rolling along the underside of his sack before your fingertip trails along the seam and up, following the thick vein that led to the head of his cock, “Is it good when I touch you here?”

“S’good,” He answers shakily, watching your hand press flat against your tongue before you’re gripping his cock tight, jerking him firmly, his hand flying to your hip, trailing up blindly as you press your chin against the top of his head, feeling his hand tangle into your hair, cradling your face with a desperation, “I’m fuckin’ sufferin’ here, sweetheart.”

“Not yet,” You counter, leaving his now hardened cock to bounce freely against his stomach as you reach for two items sprawled on the bed, gripped in your fists as you straddle him, his cock sliding through your wet folds and nearly sending him over the edge, “which one?”

Choices, he thinks. He hated making a decision.

Sight or touch, he debates the two items.

“If you don’t pick I’m choosing both,” You warn him playfully.

“Not bein’ able to see you feels like a punishment,” Joel admits.

You hum thoughtfully, “You’re right—and what a good boy you’ve been, huh?”

“Real good, sweetheart,” He agrees desperately, feeling his cock pulse against your cunt, fighting the restraint it was taking him not to sink into you now and plow you into the bed underneath him, but that wasn’t the point of all of this.

So, the decision is made.

Joel settles against the headboard as you restrain his arms behind his back in a similar manner, his eyes following your movements carefully as you leave soft, light kisses along his skin before you straddle his hips, hovering over him for a brief moment before you’re wrapping your hand around his cock and sinking down onto him slowly, adjusting to the stretch as his eyes flutter shut, face pinched up.

‘It’s not too tight, is it?” You ask, moving your hips at a tortuous pace as your fingers curl around the back of his neck, his head shaking at your question, focusing so innately hard he can’t answer, as much as he tries.

“S’probably the only thing keepin’ me together,” Joel forces out, “all I could think about at dinner earlier was you—this, s’fucked up, ain’t it?”

Your eagerness wins over, bouncing on his cock at a quicker pace that has him panting into your skin, a pathetic whine ripping from his chest, “And I spent—spent all evening thinking about how you’d look when you came—and how stubborn you’d be—”

Joel chuckles pathetically, moaning weakly against your chest as you grip the headboard above him, the sharp slap of skin against skin as you ride his cock.

“Turns out you’re pretty receptive,” You continue, “‘s’good—I like it.”

Joel murmurs an acknowledgment as his neck strains back, slamming against the headboard as he forces his eyes open, panting heavily as he watches your body stretch above him, one hand sliding down to spread out against your thigh as you head falls back to mirror his own, moaning loudly as his cock pulses with need, your walls fluttering around him.

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” Joel speaks drunkenly, mesmerized, “M’never lettin’ you go.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” You assure him, watching him nod as his eyes squeeze shut, that familiar ache in his gut growing as his cock throbs with the need for release.

You lean forward, working your fingers through the knot of the restraints and speak softly against his ear, “Y’gonna listen? Yeah, like a real good boy?”

Joel nods fervently, sighing with the release of his hands as they immediately latch onto you, still and unmoving but like a relief for the both of you as his hands press hot against your skin.

“What should your reward be, huh?” You coo, “Should I let you come?”

“Sweetheart, please—”

You lean back slightly, riding him with fervor as you nod your head, cradling his lulling head between your hands, “Tell me how good you’ve been,” You encourage gently, his skin damp with sweat as you slide a hand down his chest, dangerously close to the point where you’re joined together, “let me hear it.”

“So good, sweetheart. Bein’ such a good boy for ‘ya,” Joel complies, his breath hitching as he feels the tight ring around his cock loosen, thrown to the side, slipping out and back in without skipping a beat, like you’d never left.

“Right there,” He warns, “fuck—baby, I dunno if I can—”

“It’s okay,” You whisper softly, hearing the pain in his voice and the way his arms wrap around you like a vice, “I’m gonna make you clean it up, anyways.”

Joel groans at that, nearly lifting off the bed as his hand steadies behind, pumping his hips into you jerkily as he comes inside of you and coats your walls, gasping sharply at the feeling of his blunt nails digging into your skin, riding him gently through the aftershocks before he falls lifeless against the bed, panting heavily.

You sigh with elation, though exhausted, slowly moving back as you lean on your elbows and gently poke at his thigh, his hand covering his softening cock as he grunts, grumbling some unintelligible. 

“You’re not finished,” Joel chuckles lowly, his hand wrapping around your ankle as he pulls himself up, eyes immediately locking on your swollen cunt, cum spilling out as your walls squeeze, your own fingers spreading through the mess before you’re dragging it toward your mouth, licking your fingers clean before reaching for his hair, mused from sex as you yank him closer and demand, “clean up your mess.”

“Gonna need you to schedule another week off for me,” Joel admits, dipping his tongue inside of you without hesitation, his hands squeezing around your thighs to pull you in, “and you.”

“Why’s that?”

Joel grins as you glance down, speaking confidently against your cunt, “Got a few messes I wanna make, that alright?”

You pause, a moment of hesitation, “I’ll consider it.”

Joel growls into you, nipping gently at your clit as you squeal loudly.

You relent quickly, swatting his head playfully.

After all, he was still your boss.

[fadelbison]

Of Boats and Drama; The Turning Tides on Kant and Bison's Compatibility

obsessed with how when its during their make believe phase, when fadel says "I think I love you" to Style, Style doesn't say it back and instead just kisses him at the end of ep. 6 and during the kantbison parallel at the start of ep7 when Bison says "I love you" to Kant, Kant says "I love you" back but clearly there's baggage even if he's not lying outright.

But after the brothers kidnap their respective lovers its Style that fronts with the I love you that perplexes Fadel

and its bison that wants to hear it

but Kant jumps into the ocean instead (like you can see the beach front okay Bison is clearly devoid of killing intent here) instead of lying to him or say the same things he's been saying to dupe him.

I really think this is where the Kant and Bison compatibility is finally starting to show. Bison clearly loves his little fantasies and make belief of romance (just like style dear fucking god). I've joked before about how bison has given to his brother the lover he had envisioned for himself - the one who will plead his love, cajole and give in.

But that guy is wrong for him.

We've seen that slightly off dynamic between Kant and Bison for 6 whole episodes. And it's killed me that people kept trying to interpret them with the same rose tinted glasses that we do for Fadel and Style. Because the FadelStyle and KantBison relationship parallels aren't meant to highlight the similarities between the couples but rather the differences, that's where the information about these characters come from.

The audience knows something that Kant doesn't in the boat scene; which is that he has this in the bag already. I think this is the infamous island Bison inherited from his dad and he's brought him here to literally just talk. I know I mentioned this already but bison literally looks like he just untied the boat from shore and let it drift on its own while waiting for Kant to wake up.

Like that has got to be the minimum legal distance that a boat needs to be from shore to be considered unmoored lol. This is 'I am using your vulnerabilities against you because love is pain' shore distance not 'dead body dumping' shore distance. The body will wash up on shore before the boat even makes it back.

But for Bison, Fadel's reasonable precautions while we talk approach was not enough. He needed the ropes, the guns, the added ocean trauma because the guns didn't feel enough to instill fear, the pretty necklace he put on just so he could rip it off his throat, everything is already high drama high fantasy for him. Bison set the stage for desperate begging and tearful confessions, things he already got at the hospital btw but that wasn't enough either.

Because.

Bison doesn't need to be sold on fantasies. He had that and it sucked for everyone involved, what he needs when he's totally out of control like this is this guy:

[screenshots of Kant telling bison he wants to talk on land and he's scared of the ocean]

For six whole episodes I saw Kant be wrong for Bison and not be able to pinpoint exactly why people cawing over how cute KantBison are bothered me so much. Until, of course, Kant finally does something right and all of a sudden it just all clicks together. Bison is boisterous, headstrong and because of his unique skillset also irresponsibly dangerous. The BDSM scene also shows that despite his best intentions, Bison can and will abuse power if given to him irresponsibly.

He doesn't need the Kant that plays along with everything he does. He needs the Kant that Kant is to everyone but him. The person that Kant is when they're together is barely even Kant. He needs the calm, level headed but fiercely devoted older brother, he needs the guy that helps a hookup out because that's his duty as a human being, he needs the guy that stole cars to keep his family fed. And I'll be really honest, that's the guy that Bison loves anyway, the one he hears about from Babe and Style and James.

What Bison needs is the quiet devotion of Kant choosing his own personal hell over playing this game and furthering any deception between them even though technically it wouldn't even be a lie (Bison is literally poised to believe him); the dogged resolve that once he's decided to do this on his own terms, it happens on his own terms.

[gayofthefae]

"I should have explained myself because maybe then Eleven would have taken me with her, but - I don't know. I didn't know what to say."

That isn't what he said the first time.

"I should have said something. And maybe if I had said that thing, Eleven would want me there with her."

The sentiment of him being with her and knowing/ensuring she's safe is consistent. But he isn't actually repeating himself. There's no need for him to as a person and as a screenwriter, repetition should DEFINITELY be cut.

He's changing. He's brainstorming. He's starting to consider other angles of the "could have"s. The "what if"s.

He starts with "what if I'd just forced an 'I love you'". But I think he likely settles on what we can logically deduce for ourselves in that situation - "I made the right choice prioritizing with what I knew of the consequences at the time".So he changes. He changes.

He changes to "I should have explained myself".

"Explained myself" is NOT the same as "said that thing" and that is VITAL.

I should have just sucked it up and told her I loved her if it meant keeping her safe.

No, I did the best I could with the information I had

I should have told her the truth. Maybe she would have taken it better if I had just told her that I don't love her but it's my fault, not hers. Now she thinks it's hers and that I'm hiding it.

And, perfect timing, Will comes in with (in Mike's pov) "It makes sense why you didn't, though, don't beat yourself up. She was gonna get hurt either way and everything would have been a risk as to how much."

And Mike nods. And the next time we see him, he's saying

"Will she still even want me in her life if I can't give her the love she wants? All I can do now is to make sure she knows it isn't her fault, that's the selfless act I can do for her, but if I confess I don't love her, what other use am I to her? Will doing what's best for her by telling her it's not her fault, it's mine, instead of continuing to lie make me lose her?"

He says "explain". He starts with "maybe I should have changed the 'what'". Then he shifts to "maybe I should changed what she thought of the 'why'". Ironically, his question in the van once he's come to that conclusion is "how?".

The first pitch he makes is "maybe I should have told her I loved her" and Will says "don't worry, you'll have another chance", and he turns away and introspectively reacts with

aversion.

But then he says "maybe I should have just explained the real reason behind my actions instead of denying them all together" and Will says "that's a scary thing to do. It's a hard decision. You're doing your best", and he turns away and introspectively reacts with

understanding.

Honestly, being understood. And sometimes that's what you need to find understanding. He's been confused this whole time, that's been his whole thing, but he looks like he's starting to piece something together now - finally. Will put his own feelings into words for him to hear out loud so could finally get them and get them in a validated way.

Instinctively, he knew the first one was easier but wrong. He didn't want to lie to her. Both times Will said "if that's what you want to do, I believe in you", but only once did he agree. He knew it felt like the wrong choice the first time and you can see it. The second time was a new choice he was considering.

And you know what? While we're here. Telling her he loves her: aversion. Telling her the truth: understanding and drive. What happens next?

He expresses "what if when I tell her the truth, as I've decided is the right choice, she appreciates it but doesn't need me for anything else beyond that?" And Will says "she'll stay. You got this.", and he reacts with

Comfort.

He didn't know what to do. Then he did, but he was scared to do it. Then he wasn't so scared anymore.

He's thrilled to see her and forgets for a second but - much like El with Will on roller rink day - is reminded by seeing Will that now that she's actually here, it's real. He's committed to his actions and they're impending.

But he's not so scared anymore. Bravery, though, doesn't mean no nerves. He's hesitant and not happy looking when he talks to her about it first. He tries to lighten the mood - "the whole world went to shit and everything" - and he's watching her reactions like a hawk. It feels like less of a risk now enough that he can do it, but not so little that he isn't scared. Either way though, it's worth the risk for her to know the problem isn't her.

He didn't know what to do. Now he does. He was scared, but he's not as much anymore. Not too much to do it. They're interrupted. Okay, oh well, he'll find another time.

And now to break your heart:

Mike had an idea, Will said it was good, but Mike met that with aversion.

Mike had an idea, Will said it was good, Mike met that with understanding and agreement.

Mike was scared, Will said he had no reason to be, Mike met that with comfort.

(I'm sorry) Mike was scared for El - unrelated - and looked to Will for comfort - as he had every other time - when he tapped him on the shoulder, Will said he should tell her he loves her, and he reacts with

anguish.

This was not Mike's plan.

This was not their plan, so he thought.

Mike's reaction tells us everything about what he knew and what he meant for what's to come. This was not what he meant. That was not what he was going to say. This was not his plan.

And there's that part of you too that always wishes to go back to semi-ignorant bliss. Even if just panicked confusion. Because wasn't it nice: when telling her you loved her evoked this

And not this

Wasn't it nice when you knew...just a little less?

Wasn't it nice, in a way, when you couldn't see the happy ending so clearly?

Don't you sort of miss - when you couldn't taste it?

also fuck it for just for that list bit and the bridge of this song here's my illicit affairs edit linked because "you showed me colors you know I can't see with anyone else"

[dollwhite]

K.O K.O K.O

𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐃𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞

This is just a small story,I don’t know if I’m going to make it big. But if I don’t pls feel free to use my idea just give me credit!!

TW mentions if highness(aka weed)

No mentions of y/n

This isn’t really in my writing style, I wanted to try something different. If people like this I will write with this style more!!

Ps I need friends.

𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇

High,you were high as a light house right now. You found some old weed underneath your bed.Can weed get old? How old were you again? As more questions flooded your mind. You didn’t hear your name being called.

𝐊.𝐎

Where did the music go?.. just a few minutes ago, some random song was blasting .But now it’s like you could hear a pen drop.

𝐊.𝐎

Wait, this isn’t your bed? This isn’t your bedroom, you had black cat pictures on the door leading towards your bathroom. This isn’t your apartment…?

𝐊.𝐎

Who was that.. who was that calling you name?.. her voice sounds familiar. who is she. Do you know her. Isn’t her name R-Ram.?… why is she yelling your name..

“Ram..? What-were am I?..”

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬.

It’s like something’s in your mouth blocking the flow.like the words aren’t meant to be there.

what’s wrong with you.

��K.o we have to go right now! The police are here come on.”..

As you sat up taking a full look around who ever room you were in. It looks nice, nothing out of the ordinary.

𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒

“Are you sure this is the right address?” A figure with a blue bird embezzled on their chest spoke softly under their breath, but just loud enough for the other people on coms to hear. Also Taking notice of the youngest robin standing on top of a nearby building, waiting for the signal that Batman was supposed to be giving.

Police man were also on the scene, so all the suspects can be taking in to custody right away.

“Robin,Night-wing come in.” A deep voice came over the coms. The dark night himself was here to investigate this “party” in reality it was a human trafficking operation. The party was to lure young women primarily.

“I’m in, there’s approximately only three people left in this houses it looks like the others have left.” Robin’s voice filled the coms, informing his mentors about the situation.

As Robin makes a b line for the living room, Batman in the backyard looking for any kinda clues of were the traffickers went. And Nightwing in the bedrooms.

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐘

“Guys I found something…or someone” Nightwings words ring over coms. “Im on my way!” Batman yelled, Gotham dark night himself rushing into the house through the backdoor. Passing the youngest boy wonder, on the way.

“What-!” Batman stopped midway through his sentence. He know that this ‘party’ was just a cover up for human trafficking. But what he didn’t expect was to find a young woman high out of her mind. Maybe this was their new victim, and well they were in a hurry to get out of this house. They forgot to take her.

“Grab her, and take her back to the cave.” He said, “Don’t let the cops see you.”

“Alright pretty lady, up we go!” Night wing explained grabbing her in a bridal style.

“ promise not to drop me?..” you asked fear laced in your voice. “ Only a dummy would drop a pretty lady like you.” Nightwing said opening up a nearby window,shifting your weight on his more dominant arm.

he grabbed a all black grappling hook, “Hold on real tight for me?”

“Wait-what?!” You gasped, your hold on him tightening.

𝐁𝐀𝐓 𝐂𝐀𝐕𝐄

“Red I need you to do a saliva test”

“Nightwing, I’m not going to test you for stds go to a clinic” Red Robin said not taking his eyes off of the bat computer.”When have I ever asked you to- never mind that, the tests not for me it’s for her.”

“Who?” Red Robin asked turning around to look at Nightwing. Only to see a woman just staring back at him, in Nightwings arms. “uh, who’s she?” He asked, he prayed Niightwing didn’t just take a rondo lady off the street. ”this is pretty lady, pretty lady meet Red Robin.” “hi, uh I’m k.O” you said in a casual tone, as you climbed down from Nightwings arms. “Hey k.O, why is she her??” Red Robin said,”Br-Batman said your weren’t allowed to bring your flings in the cave”

”…she’s a woman we found at the party, we think they drugged her with something.”

That’s the end of K.O K.O K.O!!!! low-key think I cooked with this 😫 I tried my best to write for Tim, I think he gives off a moody teen vibes 😭 if y’all hit any suggestions for writing for Tim don’t be say drop them in my doll house!! It’s 4:18 am I got school in the morning wish me luck 😔 i

[thepersonperson]

Sukuna’s Loneliness Part 5 (Sukuna Did Nothing Wrong in the Heian Era, Probably)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Some notes before we start.

1) Big content warning for in depth discussion of historical slavery and the exploitation of minority groups.

2) I will be mainly using the TCB scans for the manga because of their accessibility. 

3) Raws are from Mangareader(.)to.

(Click images for captions/citations.)

Preface

This is another case of me making everyone suffer the consequences of my fic research. I finally got my hands on 100+ page THESIS on the lives of the lower class in ancient Japan that references multiple peer-reviewed sources. This is my holy grail. Please read all of it. (Thank you Mr. Breann M Goosmann!) Whenever I quote something, I am quoting this source. Most of what I'm summarizing is directly from this source.

Gege may have failed to write a proper backstory for Sukuna, but one was clearly set up using the actual history of that time. So I'm here to infer what's in those gaps using this document.

The Class System in Ancient Japan

During the Heian Era (794–1185) a social caste system called Ritsuryō (you can read more about its application here). The upper class was called 良民 or Ryōmin (good people) and the lower class was called 賤民 Senmin (low people).

The kanji 民 (Min) used for both of these classes can be translated as citizen instead of person. The Wiki page I linked uses the citizen translation. I have decided to change that to people because of 3rd group of people excluded from this system: The 非人 or Hinin (non-people).

Ryōmin included court nobility, citizens, professions that served the court, and tradesmen.

Senmin included servants and slaves.

Hinin included criminals, the deformed/disabled, and those working professions considered "unclean."

The most notable thing about this class system is the mobility between Ryōmin and Senmin. Committing crimes, selling oneself into slavery, aging, paying off debts, and doing good work allowed people to rise or fall from the ranks accordingly. Hinin, however, were confined to their class for the most part because many were viewed as innately "unclean".

Ironically, the best way to understand how this class system functioned is to understand what being "unclean" meant to it.

Uncleanliness (Kegare)

穢れ (Kegare) is a term that can be translated as the following: uncleanliness, defilement, pollution, impure.

晴れ (Hare) is a term considered the opposite for Kegare and can be translated as the following: to clear up, clear skies/sunny, renew, dispel, sacred, pure.

Both of these terms largely inform of how ancient Japan functioned and evolved over time. And though not a black and white dichotomy, it can be generally understood that society was organized in a way to minimize Kegare.

What's interesting about Kegare specifically is its complexity and its impermanence. Rather than being something only bad people have, anyone could acquire and dispel it through the proper rituals.

From the Kojiki, a Shinto document compiled before the introduction of Buddhism, and therefore before the Heian, separates Kegare into 2 categories:

1) Touch Kegare: Defilement through the physical contact with something unclean such as bodily fluids and the dead.

2) Transgression Kegare: Defilement through sinful actions.

"These versions of pollution appear as transient, exorcised relatively simply through misogi (cleansing ritual), seclusion from society, or expulsion of disorder causing elements."

This understanding of Kegare then evolved with the introduction of Buddhism to Japan. (This began in the Nara Era and extended well into the Heian.)

"As Jacqueline Stone explains in her study of deathbed rites and rituals, someone who had become enlightened was considered to have a “pure” mind, while those with a deluded mind were said to have a “defiled” mind. Monastic Buddhists also followed their own codes of “pure” conduct such as refraining from the eating of meat and killing of animals."

The old Shinto understandings of Kegare still carried over with the physical avoidment of unclean things such as dead bodies and blood. However, Buddhism introduced the idea that certain groups of people were innately impure. This includes the Hinin who were uniquely ostracized by this system.

"Hinin, like all outcast groups were bound to their “defiled” status. However, unlike other outcasts, they were also cast as blasphemers of Buddhist doctrine afflicted with karmic illness."

But despite being seen as this innately impure, the religious institutions were closest to them. Of the few places in society willing to tolerate and deal with Kegare, they offered outcasts "positions" where they could beg, display themselves as what happens to people who don't follow religious doctrine, and help with jobs considered "unclean". Since outcasts were considered permanently defiled for the duration of that life, they could touch impure things such as the dead, the sick, and blood on behalf of those avoiding temporary Kegare.

This is exploitation point blank. And though this suggests outcasts had some agency when it came to their survival, it doesn't remove the systemic coercion driving their situation.

Please keep this in mind as I explain why Sukuna did nothing wrong.

Sukuna is Hinin

Though there is plenty of debate on what makes someone Hinin, the general consensus is the following:

"All agree that hinin were considered defiled by others in society and looked at with some contempt. One medieval reference book called the Chiribukuro explains that hinin and other outcast groups “are alike in that they are shunned by human society.”"

But when trying to define Hinin more narrowly, this is the result:

"the term hinin indicated a very specific group of social outcasts isolated from the community and cast aside due to disease or deformation. In his description of hinin, Nagahara explains that those referred to as “kojiki-hinin” were of the lowest social class, physically isolated from their families and communities and therefore excluded from society and economic activities in the medieval period."

Sounds like Sukuna, right?

Sukuna does not refer to himself as Hinin of course, but he does call himself 忌み子 (Imigo).

To quote myself from Part 1, Imigo can be translated as "Abominable Child", "Unwanted Child", or "Shunned Child." None of these translations in my opinion get across how severe Imigo is. It's closer to meaning "child who should've never been born". Like the child's very existence is an affront to god. (If you play Elden Ring the Omen are called Imigo in Japanese for this reason.)

And since we know that Sukuna is canonically a conjoined twin, aka someone with a visible deformity, this all indicates he was considered afflicted with a "karmic illness" that would classify him as Hinin.

This means that from birth, Sukuna was designated as fundamentally unclean and non-human. Within that society, there was no route he could take to remove himself from this uncleanliness and be seen as human.

The following views of Hinin were considered controversial for their time (during the Kamakura Era aka right after the Heian):

"Although Nichiren believed in the karmic nature of certain diseases, he also understood that this kind of disease was not a hindrance to salvation."

"Undoubtedly, Eison envisioned hinin as the physical representation of the Bodhisattva Monju and advocated that compassion and charity were the appropriate response to karmic illness."

And since these controversial views of *checks notes* considering Hinin worthy of compassion and salvation were documented after the Heian, I don't think it's unreasonable to assume Hinin had less advocates during the Heian.

In other words, Sukuna could not exist within human society without being shunned or exploited. The manga itself suggests this has always been the case.

As you can see Sukuna is absolutely miserable performing a ritual someone of this lower class would be responsible for overseeing. All while the people he is helping regard him with disgust. (By the way there is a purification ritual in Nara called Yamayaki that involves burning an entire mountainside. Something Sukuna's flames would be very good at.)

This is also from the same chapter where he's assaulted by Yorozu who assumes he's lonely because he's strong. She's wrong about this. Just like Kashimo who assumes Sukuna cares little for love for the same reasons he does.

Love from one person is worthless when compared to the nonstop ostracization that comes from institutional discrimination. At most, love can offer relief from that pain. It does not eliminate it. I'm saying this as a minority myself. I love my friends dearly and they love me as well, but I still wake up and go about my day with the soul-crushing knowledge that most wish for me to not exist.

Sukuna is not lonely because he's not loved. Uraume clearly does. It's that for circumstances beyond his control, he has been excluded from human society and forced to constantly be around people who exploit him for the very traits they scorn.

Sukuna pretty much confirms this himself when he talks to Mahito.

And you know what? Sukuna deciding to kill all the people exploiting him is completely justified. (Imo, he can even kill the non-sorcerers that discriminate against him as a treat.)

The Cannibalism was Justified too, for the most part.

Another thing to note about Sukuna. He was born starving and he died starving.

Famines and natural disaster were frequent and extremely hard on the commoner population during the Heian. The fact Sukuna was born starving indicates he was of lower birth to begin with since nobility hoarded the resources to avoid starvation for themselves.

One way for commoners dealt with famine was via foraging. We actually see Sukuna doing that when he meets Uraume.

Now there are several very interesting things we learn from this.

1) Sukuna hunts and eats elk/deer. Something massively taboo for the time. Especially since deer were considered sacred animals back then and even to this day.

2) He appears to wander around and owns very little. This is further in line with him being Hinin per the following:

"Clearly, welcome could be revoked at any time, which meant that hinin had to be prepared to leave any location at any given moment. This mobile lifestyle also meant that hinin could only afford to carry essential daily items, such as cooking utensils and begging bowls. The image also reveals that the hinin were never officially invited to stay in that particular area. Instead, they sought out their own locations to set up communities."

3) Despite Uraume being alive and fresh human meat, Sukuna does not immediately see them as food. Nor does he attack them. This, combined with him not taking the dead villagers for eating and preparing deer/elk instead, suggests that cannibalism is not the default for him.

Back to famines, it's also not unheard of for people to resort to cannibalism during them. The logic is simple: An outcast with no support network eats humans to survive.

And given the frequency of death from natural disasters of this time, there’s a real chance he never had to hunt humans in the first place. As Hinin, handling the dead is one of the few jobs he’s allowed to do. So it’s possible the worst thing he did was desecrate corpses in the name of scavenging.

Furthermore, if Sukuna is considered a non-human, is it even cannibalism to begin with? Is a hungry animal evil for eating a human?

I may consider Sukuna human because I refuse to partake in his dehumanization, but it needs to be understood that in the context of the JJK's story, there is not a single character that refers to Sukuna as a human. He's not even referred to as a man. He's either a curse, a monster, or at the very end, a sorcerer. Sukuna has been so dehumanized by others that he himself identifies as a "curse". This is also separate from "cursed spirit", leaving him in his own unique category of non-human.

Sukuna may not see eating other people as acts of cannibalism. After all, they are the ones who decided he was non-human at birth. (And since he is taboo, eating the deer/elk can’t make him more taboo than he already is.)

The following is an excerpt discussing the dehumanization of the starving:

"This strange image is from the Scroll of Hungry Ghosts and the huge emaciated creature depicted is just one of many of the numerous depictions of hungry ghosts or gaki. Invisible to humans, the gaki depicted are the spirits of greedy or jealous individuals karmically punished for their covetous thoughts with perpetual hunger for bodily excretions such as urine or feces."

"The protrusions of the stomach, the red-tinted hair, as well as the greying of the skin, are all genuine symptoms of starvation. In this light, our image appears significantly different. Instead of an invisible monster attacking a man, we have a disfigured and suffering human reaching out for humanity."

The phenomenon of hair during red or blond from starvation is called Kwashiorkor. Gege may be color blind, but Sukuna being depicted with pink or blond hair appears to be deliberate and in line with Kwashiorkor.

Sukuna was probably framed.

The only crimes Sukuna is accused of by Jujutsu Society is murder and cannibalism. As demonstrated by the previous section, there could be a pretty good reason for the cannibalism. But what about the murder?

Another thing that should be noted about Sukuna is how his destruction is largely retaliatory in the modern era. Every kill or kill attempt is made as a response to a challenge that was directed at him first.

When Sukuna first incarnates, Megumi says this to him:

Yuji may be Megumi's target, but remember that Kegare spreads through touch. Sukuna coming into contact with Yuji has made them both unclean. In other words, Sukuna has been informed that in this life, 1,000 years later, where he has yet to do any harm (Those comments about the women, children, and massacre are still sus, but they could've been about the Merger.), he will be attacked by sorcerers no matter what. It's not unreasonable for him to then attack them on sight.

But even when he does that, most of them survive until Shinjuku. During the culling games, Sukuna kills only 2 sorcerers—Ryu and Yorozu. Ryu is given a chance to walk away, but he doesn't. Uro flees and is spared. Yorozu is the sole person Sukuna seeks out to kill and that’s just for his Gojo plans.

And in that month Sukuna has before the showdown with Gojo? Nothing happens. He kills no one and just lounges around. Eating his own corpse is the only cannibalism. He absolutely could have eaten Tsumiki’s body to further crush Megumi’s soul, but he doesn’t.

Then when it comes to the actual showdown, Sukuna kills 3 sorcerers total. It's also very telling that after Sukuna is dead...no one blames him for what happened. They blame Kenjaku, hell even Gojo, but Sukuna isn't mentioned once. Higuruma is convinced that Sukuna was playing around. Kusakabe agrees that Sukuna’s manner of play isn't what they’re super worried about, it's Kenjaku.

The worst thing Sukuna does is Shibuya and that too has nuance to it. The twins aren't killed for fun. Sukuna punishes them for making demands of him. The citizens of Shibuya? Collateral from dealing with Jogo and Mahoraga. (He only really kills Haruta for the sake of it. And let's be real, he deserved that.)

And though the Shibuya civilian deaths are an objectively bad thing Sukuna has done, the fact they are not intentional gives credence to the idea that Sukuna didn't really target them in the past either. This suggests that the "murders" Sukuna did in the Heian were likely retaliation against people challenging him or trying to subjugate him. In other words, self defense.

And if he did wipe out a village, it was probably collateral. But that's kind of the thing. Did Sukuna even kill innocents by accident? The only confirmed kills of the Heian are those of the Subjugation and Military Squads. You know, people who may have attacked him for simply being "unclean".

Who am I kidding he absolutely was attacked for being “unclean”. This is how Angel talks about Sukuna and the incarnated.

She doesn’t care about saving the lives of innocents, all that matters to her are things that she deems evil are purged. Sukuna to Angel is ontologically evil and doesn’t deserve to exist. She targets him more than other incarnated players while ignoring Kenjaku who is responsible for this mess in the first place. She also quite literally did something she deemed wrong and evil so she could follow him into the future and make sure he died. (Move over Gojo Satoru we've got a new minority hunter.)

But it’s not like her attitude is new. Jujutsu Society is notorious for trying to kill things they deem "bad" such as Yuji and Yuta. The striking thing about the wanted executions of these literal children is that the higher ups giving the command make other sorcerers do it for them. Going back to the ideas of Kegare—spilling blood and touching corpses makes one impure so the outcasts are to deal with it. This is the logic driving their decision to coerce Yuta into a binding vow to kill Yuji.

("No matter how many cursed spirits you kill, it's proof of nothing!" <Please take note of how Yuta's good deeds do nothing to earn the higher ups' favor because he's seen as inherently evil.)

Yuta is essentially scapegoated through this manipulation and Yuji initially treats him like an enemy. In the same way characters like Kusakabe blame Gojo for refusing to execute Yuji. Despite the higher ups being responsible for the system functioning this way, the people they’re manipulating bear the brunt of responsibility to other characters.

Who's to say Sukuna isn't also a victim of this scapegoating? His power is comparable to a natural disaster. It would be very easy to blame one on him. After all, the higher ups of the Heian, the Fujiwaras, did exactly that to Uro.

Uro’s situation is much worse than Yuta’s however. She is a military slave. This distinction of military slave is important because unlike domestic slaves, they were allowed to rise through the ranks and be given awards despite their status.

And since Uro is a Sukuna parallel, there is a pretty good chance he was a slave at some point during the Heian.

Slavery in the Heian

A little detail I left out when discussing famine in the Heian. The asymmetrical wealth distribution was so severe during this time that commoners would sell themselves into slavery in hopes of not starving to death.

An example from the Kamakura Era (after the Heian):

"As the article shows, during the three years of the Kangi famine (1229-1232) and several recovery years following, various common people sold themselves, their relatives, and their retainers into slavery in exchange for sustenance. Not only would an amount be given to the seller, but also presumably whoever now owned the sold individual would be responsible for feeding and providing shelter for that individual. In this way, the common populations of Japan created a strategy for survival. There was no certainty that a new owner would fulfill this obligation, but the promise of reprieve from daily struggles was impetus enough for the sale."

Another example from the same era:

"A didactic tale from 1283 tells the story of a small family consisting of a mother and son, who after experiencing severe famine, came to the realization they would soon starve to death. In the hope of saving his mother, the young boy offers to sell himself into bondage, and although the mother disagrees, he goes ahead with the plan."

Yes this is as bad as it sounds, but there is one thing I would like to get out of the way—this slave system did not function anything like the chattel slavery during colonialism. Strangely enough, these slaves had some rights they could fight their owners in court over. They could pay off debts and be set free. They were allowed to be married and have children with those outside of their class. They were not kept in cages or in chains like animals. (Silver linings! /s)

The term used for these slaves was 奴婢 (Nuhi) which roughly translates to “bonded person”. This is more in the contractual sense rather than the physical sense since most were slaves by contract or debt.

This kind of sounds like something binding vows could do, right? Well binding vows share no kanji with Nuhi using 縛り(Shibari) instead. However, Sukuna introduces the concept of binding vows with chains and a handshake.

Sukuna was also born unwanted to a starving mother during a time when starving people sold themselves or their relatives into slavery to survive. This can mean a lot of things for his upbringing and none of them are pleasant.

Here is a summary of what jobs Nuhi did:

"As stated previously, wealthy households frequently obtained slaves and assigned them to various domestic tasks. However, sources further illuminate trafficking of women into the sex trade of Kamakura Japan."

If you noticed, Sukuna's Cursed Technique is perfect for this. He can chop up veggies, butcher fish, till farmland, slash and burn farmland, light fires, and every other non-violent thing a knife and fire can be used for. If he wasn't exploited for exorcising curses, he absolutely would've been exploited for domestic tasks.

And to get to much more depressing line of work Sukuna could've been subjected to as a child, I'd like to discuss why someone as masculine as him would be associated with women's work in the first place.

The Treatment of Women in Ancient Japan

"In Japan prior to the Heian and Kamakura periods, women played prominent roles in religious activities as miko, which was akin to a female medium or female shaman...Since miko functioned as a sacred and integral part in religious communities, issues of impurity did not appear to be an issue. Instead, it was Buddhist ideas that linked the female form to impurity."

With the introduction of Buddhism, women began to be seen as innately impure due to the blood and fluids associated with childbirth and mensuration.

"In the Heian period, Buddhist temples such as such as Enryakuji and Tōdaiji, began barring women from entering the premises due to their defiled nature."

"prominent Buddhist discourse painted women as innately defiled and therefore unable to achieve enlightenment in their own female bodies."

"To be born as an innately defiled female was considered a karmic punishment for past actions."

Though not ostracized as much as outcasts, women were seen as innately unclean in a similar vein to Sukuna. Women were expelled from religious institutions but not the courts, while outcasts were tolerated by religious institutions and barred from the courts. (The courts and temples operated independently of each other, which is why it was possible for noble women to hold power despite being designated as unclean.)

A few months ago I made a joke about this panel:

"Sukuna’s two options were helping Uraume transition or becoming a girl himself."

This is still mostly a joke, but I do think Sukuna identifies more with women than with men. Not that Sukuna is a girl, but that he relates to them and their struggles better. (Keep in mind he does wear a women's yukata and a men's obi at the same time as Yujikuna.)

It's important to note is that this mystery woman here wears the clothes of a Miko or Shrine Maiden/Priestess—the main group of women that was displaced and persecuted because of the new religious doctrine. And like every other group without a proper social safety net, selling themselves into slavery became a survival strategy. They did have other options of course. In the case of Asobi, the Priestess that used to serve the courts, turned to entertainment and sex work after their exclusion.

"Either riding in boats or setting up shop on busy routes to the capital and religious sites, Goodwin argues that these performers were part of independent, possibly female-run organizations, which were not stigmatized until the later part of the Kamakura period. However, as Wakita Haruko has examined, at least some women involved in sexual entertainment were female indentured servants, serving as security on a loan issued by their parents."

In this way, the exact identity of the Miko in Sukuna's path may not matter. She might be a representation of those who accepted their exclusion and did their best to survive on society's terms. If the South choice is meant to represent returning to who Sukuna used to be, then it can also mean the types of struggles Mikos faced are his as well.

However, there was a temple that continued to accept women as followers—the Muroji Temple in Nara. Interestingly enough, this temple contains an inner sanctuary devoted to the founder of Shingon Buddhism, the type of Buddhism Tengen brought over. The mountain this temple is located on is also associated with a dragon spirit. Since there is historical precedent of at least one temple accepting a group of people seen as innately impure, a place like this may have also been a sanctuary for Sukuna.

With the information we have, it's not really possible to know exactly what awful thing happened to Sukuna. The most important takeaway from this is that the suffering he experienced was systemic. He didn't get unlucky with a few ignorant and bad people. This was the direct result of the Heian class system dehumanizing people. In other words, his choices were severely limited.

Sukuna's Other Choice

Going North with Uraume appears to be very similar what he did back in the Heian—taking in an abandoned child and looking after them. What makes this choice slightly different this time around is that the class system that oppressed him no longer exists in the modern era. Yes, he’ll absolutely face discrimination for being deformed, but the complete denial of his humanity at every turn for his appearance is gone. He won’t be treated as untouchable and inherently evil. Legally speaking, he has drastically more rights. Violence won’t be his only option moving up in the world.

I will always loathe that Sukuna had to die to obtain this. And that the “reformed” modern Jujutsu Society refuses to acknowledge the systemic failures of their institution. Kusakabe makes it very clear he still believes the immediate extermination of anything deemed “evil” is a valid way to go about things, even if it means the death of a child…as long as he doesn’t have to do it. (Hence him blaming Gojo for it, just like the higher ups.) After the fight, everyone passes blame around, absolves themselves of any wrongdoing, and decides no one is really at fault.

There were people at fault for this. There are institutions at fault for this. But their failure to confront those things directly is probably why Sukuna rejected Yuji’s offer so viciously. Instead of trying to understand Sukuna on his own terms, Yuji showed him the value of a simple life he was never allowed to have, then told him to die or go back into the cage.

Yuji offered Sukuna pity but no autonomy, which is exactly the way Hinin were treated by the religious institutions of old.

"However, Hosokawa argues that even in veneration of hinin as representations of Manjusri, Buddhist monks continue to discriminate against this outcast group and further perpetuate their low position in society. Hosokawa explains that although activity involved in charitable works towards hinin, Eison cared little about the salvation of hinin because he saw outcasts as divine only within the context of the ritual of assembly. Therefore, all charitable works directed at hinin were merely ceremonial. Hosokawa advocates the view that Eison believed hinin lacked ‘nature,’ meaning they were unable to study or practice Buddhism. Essentially, without nature, they had no ability to escape the cycle of re-birth through the study of Buddhism."

Sukuna even thinks of modern sorcerers like the ones of old. Why would he ever want to return to that?

His goals are simple; eat, play, and pass time until his dies. That’s not really evil now is it? But the people attacking him don’t know that. None of them ever stopped to asked because they assume him existing freely will bring evil.

But what does Sukuna do when he’s given a month-long truce a body he completely controls? He does what every minority group does when they are no longer being actively oppresed—he rests. He doesn’t go around killing or tormenting for fun. With his newfound freedom he secludes himself and lounges.

The fight in Shinjuku is essentially a group of well-meaning people from a corrupt institution beating an outcast that was ostracized by it into submission. Albeit for very good reasons.

Why did this fight change his mind?

If Sukuna is basically reliving past trauma via the Shinjuku fight, why did he decide this group of sorcerers was worth listening to? The simple answer of course is he lost to them. Sukuna believes the strong impose their will and the weak follow suit.

I don’t think that’s quite right. Sukuna used to be weak too. He was a child once. He used to controlled by others stronger than him. By his own logic he should’ve stayed like that, but he trained to get stronger and eventually rebelled.

Since Sukuna is a known liar and hides his feelings under several layers of repression, I’m inclined to believe this statement is also smokescreen. And after reading the Uraume Epilogue I am certain of this. But for now let’s revisit the Shinjuku fight, starting from the battle that made me realize Sukuna is indeed a pathetic sopping wet cat underneath it all—Sukuna vs Gojo.

Sukuna vs Gojo

Something fans picked up on during this fight was how Gojo dogwalked Sukuna when it came to Hand to Hand (H2H) combat. During their fight, Sukuna fails to land a single punch on Gojo’s face. It takes Yuta possessing Gojo’s body and fumbling around in it for Sukuna to finally punch that face. But it’s not just Gojo he sucks at with H2H combat. It’s everyone. Here is a compilation of Sukuna getting hit in the head or face.

This seems to conflict with Sukuna’s ability to learn anything visually. He sees someone do something and he can copy it immediately. This contradiction can be explained by him being Hinin.

Sukuna was considered an untouchable. Educated people were of a higher class and believed unclean things like him were to be avoided at all costs. This means that whatever education Sukuna obtained for himself was always at a distance. Aka watch and copy. And since H2H is mostly taught through body to body contact, Sukuna wasn’t allowed a proper sparing partner outside of the attempts to kill him.

In Part 2, I go over Sukuna’s fraud allegations for his copying of Gojo in particular. This is what lead me to realize that Sukuna spent 6 months plotting to kill a guy he met for 10 seconds. This insane level of pre-planning is also shaped by him being Hinin.

We know for a fact that Sukuna hunts deer/elk and that it’s safe to assume he driven to this because of his Hinin status. If you know anything about hunting, it’s that most of it is playing psychological mind games with creatures that are somehow complete geniuses despite having 2 brain cells. You don’t chase after a deer with a gun, you become obsessed with them. You study every little habit of theirs; when they hunger, what they eat, and where they defecate. Using this information, you set up the bait and wait in hiding for the perfect opportunity to kill them.

This is pretty much what Sukuna does to Gojo. He’s got a hunter’s obsession with him. In Part 4, I explain how this obsession might actually be unhinged courtship, but I don’t lay out why Gojo of all people seemingly means this much to Sukuna. This too can be explained by him being Hinin.

I’ve said it over and over, Gojo and Sukuna are twin flames. They are the strongest, isolated, dehumanized, exploited, self-taught, and really bad at showing affection. Part of this obsession is driven by Sukuna seeing himself in Gojo. He's being ordered around by others weaker than him in the same way Sukuna used to be.

But take note of this “I owe you a debt.” It’s easy to assume he means payback for punching him in the face. However…Gojo did actually do Sukuna a massive favor. He suspended his execution, even if it was primarily to save Yuji.

As I discussed before, Kegare was infectious. You touch something unclean and you become unclean yourself. By laws of Jujutsu Society and by social stigma around Kegare, Sukuna made Yuji equally as impure as himself. And Gojo went screw that, I’m going to look after you. He gave Yuji direct lessons, made sure all his basic needs were met, and treated him like a human. Behind everyone’s backs he hid the final finger, intending to let Yuji live for the duration of his natural life.

To Sukuna, Gojo is someone who would have taken him in and advocated for his humanity under different circumstances. Gojo is someone Sukuna would’ve loved to have as a teacher. And so he copies him. He learns and improves his own sorcery as if Gojo had intentionally taught him.

Through the Shinjuku fight, his experiences within Yuji, and Megumi’s memories, Sukuna gets a taste of what could’ve been. With Megumi in particular, he also gets to see what it’s like to be raised by someone who actually cares. Though not intentional, this is how Gojo teaches Sukuna love. This is why when Sukuna looks at Gojo, he thinks about love.

Sukuna choosing to go with Uraume is him copying Gojo one last time. After seeing that even if you’re isolated, exploited, and miserable, there’s still fulfillment in using your power to make sure someone else doesn’t go through what you did. It may not remove all that pain, but it makes it easier.

And bringing back Kegare’s opposite Hare (晴れ). The kanji used are in the Appare Da (天晴れだ) when Sukuna tells Gojo, “You cleared my skies.” (The Da at the end of this statement means it was pretty heartfelt too.) With this additional context, I think it can be taken to also mean that Gojo made Sukuna feel like he wasn’t impure.

Sukuna vs Yuji

Yuji and Megumi are the ones who ultimately make Sukuna realize that it's worth pursing guardianship regardless of marital status or blood relation. They are the two of Gojo’s students/children that are directly compared to Uraume.

Yuji who is also the same as Sukuna, fills the role of Gojo when he first chooses to look after Megumi. When he prevents Megumi from being sold by his father. Sukuna has seen both versions of this memory.

Since Sukuna is a twin to Wasuke and they are also the same, JJK 265 is Yuji showing Sukuna an entire alternate universe of the normal life he could've lived if he had been seen as human.

And even if he can’t ever be seen as human or live normally, Megumi tells him it’s ok to be improper and cherish someone anyways.

None of these 3 realize how greatly they’ve affected Sukuna. He barely admits to it even in death. But Sukuna had secretly wanted this from the start. The cracks started showing when he first tried to teach Megumi in his special little tsundere shark way.

There's also something to be said about Uraume making it to adulthood in a time where famine was rampant and parents would sell their children into slavery just to eat. Their cursed technique manifested around the age of 6, just like Megumi. The fact they survived means Sukuna was already doing a pretty good job as their guardian.

Other Things this Changes

I'm also looking at Sukuna's fondness towards Jogo in a whole new light. I thought that Jogo wanting nothing of him was the main reason he was favored. But there's more to it that that. It’s that he regards Sukuna’s life as inherently valuable. Jogo believes in a world where Sukuna has the right to exist as he is and how he wants. No one will try to control him or condemn him for something he had no say in.

He also stands out in his devotion to curses of any background. Mahito basically looks like a human, Choso and his brothers are half human, Sukuna is fully human, and Jogo accepts them all no questions asked. He’s willing to fight for people who exist differently than himself.

There's also that added “wanting to be seen as human” element. Jogo’s world is one where Sukuna would finally be seen as human. It’s the same logic that drove Choso to side with the Disaster Curses. He knew how difficult human society would make the lives of his brothers (both of which have 2 faces like conjoined twins), so he chose to fight for a world where that kind of discrimination no longer existed. (Which is why it's really sad he died and no one mourned him properly.)

And yes we can condemn the mass slaughter of humans as the wrong way to go about this. But the core problem is that Jujutsu Society branded them as taboo and in need of extermination or containment. They were driven into a corner and believed violence was the only way out. The only reason Choso was able to change was other sorcerers giving him a chance despite the hurt he caused. Something Sukuna didn't get outside of the offer to be caged.

Am I being too lenient with Sukuna here?

Absolutely. I am extremely biased.

To me at least, the type of "evil" Sukuna is has a lot nuance. It is very significant that someone as strong as him, who could basically do whatever he wanted (theoretically), took one willing servant in a time where slavery was widely practiced. (If you read the linked document, it's kind of up for debate how legal slavery was at the time.) It's also significant that the Heian crimes he was accused of were limited to cannibalism and murder. He's clearly got rules about his evilness and I really like that about him. I wanted to find the logic driving them and I think I've finally struck gold.

This didn't fit anywhere nicely. But consider the following:

"Earthly sins, on the other hand, were those that only affected individuals or forbidden actions, such as rape or cutting living flesh."

Sukuna's CT cuts living flesh. His very CT was considered impure in the Heian. The flames however, are more aligned with purification. It's just a neat little thing that shows Sukuna's duality imo.

He's also really good at archery. And though this is likely because his flame CT is a bow, he probably got good at it to hunt deer/elk on top of temple duties. (Just another way he enjoys corrupting the divine.)

But please remember, the only reason I've done all of this is because of Umineko's...

Without love, it cannot be seen.

[snailsgoingdowntown]

Help, I Reincarnated as the Female Lead’s Sister-in-Law!

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Chapter 9

‘Slight’ Yandere! Dion Agriche x Fem! Reader

Arranged marriage AU

Warnings: thoughts about self-harm (biting thumb again), accidental self-injury(? + biting inside of lip which causes it to bleed), thoughts about implied murder, near panic attack, implied depression, slight blood, small/slight themes of obsession and possessiveness, slight themes of misogyny/some toxic behavior from Reader's family, please tell me if I missed any.

Nsfw warnings: OKAY, I honestly think Maria, if she becomes fond of a daughter-in-law, would absolutely push for grandchildren and take things into her own hands unless someone (Sierra) tries really hard to convince her otherwise. I’m really sorry for writing her as a creep but this will be the last time (either completely or for a very long time) I’ll write her like this. Anyway: suggestive, throwback to their 1st night, gifting of lingerie and aphrodisiac by Maria (again will not write her like this either completely or a long time, I tried rewriting this chapter so fucking much but this is what I settled on because it felt the most natural to me.) pushing for grandchildren, Maria somehow got the Reader’s measurements, please tell me if I missed any.

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT CONDONE ANY OF THE HARMFUL AND/OR DANGEROUS/TOXIC ACTIONS AND/OR BEHAVIORS THAT TAKE PLACE IN THIS PIECE OF FICTION. THESE ACTIONS/BEHAVIORS SHOULD NOT BE NORMALIZED NOR ROMANTICIZED AS THEY ARE BOTH EXTREMELY TOXIC AND DANGEROUS.

MINORS/BLANK BLOGS/BLOGS THAT DO NOT INTERACT OR REBLOG ANYTHING FANDOM RELATED (FICS, ART, ETC.) DNI.

===

‘Dear father and mother, 

I am doing well so far. The food is nice and the clothes comfortable. I haven’t personally spoken to my father-in-law yet, but I’m going to meet him for dinner tomorrow at the time of writing this. My husband, Dion is different from what I expected. Too nice. He’s not as brutal as others described him. It was surprising. But he’s a pervert and I almost hit him out of frustration and rejected his sexual advances like any sane person would. I know that you’ll say I should have let it happen, mother, but it hurt so bad I don’t think he’ll ever fit. Speaking of those vulgar activities, you lied he wasn’t flustered in the slightest until I started crying. Can you believe that? He’s a creep! But hopefully he doesn’t kill or torture me he’ll continue to treat me nicely.

I have talked to a few in-laws, including my mother-in-law. I heard that you drank with her, mother. She's very  lively and has a sadistic unique personality. She’s very sweet to me. I have also met the fourth wife, Sierra. She’s lovely, I think you’ll also get along with her, mother. 

Of course, as his wife I’ll do my best to support him in fear of him or Lant killing me otherwise in every field to the best of my abilities. Just how you forced taught me.

I hope that the two of you are faring well. The same goes for Zac and Elena, of course. Speaking of them, how has Zac’s studies been? He’s not skipping them again, is he or planning something dangerous like that stupid but well-meant plan he informed you, father, about? Yes, I overheard everything?

Is Elena doing well in her pregnancy? I know she moved out before me, but I’m still concerned about her and the baby. And Albert, he’s taking care of her, right? 

I’m not sure what else to write, so I’ll just leave it here. Please take care of yourselves. The same goes for my brother and sister.

Your daughter, (Name)’

“... I ended up writing what I really think… I need to rewrite this… again.” You sigh, leaning back in your chair as you crumble the letter. This was your fifth try, and while each one became less hostile and more casual, you weren't satisfied with any of the rough drafts to turn into a final draft. 

If you weren’t married to Dion, into this family, would writing to them be easier? You shake your head. No point in having these useless thoughts. Especially as Hana comes in with a knock and your permission, rolling in your lunch. 

In the end, you ended up going with Hana’s suggestion - basically saying that your husband fucked you too hard and rough last night and you needed to recover. Thanks to that, you didn’t have to change into the scarlet dress she picked out either - it was decided to be saved for the dinner you’ll have with both your husband and father-in-law tomorrow. 

You already asked Hana for indigestion medicine for tomorrow. 

“Thank you, Hana,” you put your stationary away and picked up the crumbled balls of paper that were failed attempts. She eyes you curiously but doesn’t comment on it. Instead she readies your lunch, placing the plates onto the table. 

The thought of eating makes you sick. You could barely hold down breakfast - could you hold down lunch? Or would your body give up immediately and reject the food? 

Warily looking at it, you notice two prettily wrapped up boxes - one pink with light red polka dots, the bow purple in color. The second box, a flatter one, had red wrapping paper with a tiny black hearts pattern, with the bow also black. Your heart speeds up as your gut twists painfully. If they were meant for you, they contain nothing well meant nor innocent.

“Oh, right,” Hana starts before handing both ‘presents’ to your unwelcoming arms, “Lady Maria sent these to you. I don’t know what they are, unfortunately.” With a grave look on your face you shakily thank her, a pained and forced smile stretching your lips. 

Maria sent these… oh boy, I sure do wonder what they are… 

“Later today, please help me pick out a gift for her. It’s only right that I repay the favor, especially since she’s my mother-in-law.” Placing them down next to your feet, you ignore the urge to kick them far, far away from you. It’s hard to keep your eyes off of the boxes. It’s hard to focus on your food, picking up your fork and knife as you cut into the grilled fish. 

It’s hard to chew, accidentally biting your lip hard enough to taste blood. It’s hard to drink the water as it threatens to choke you. It’s hard to not wince at the sharp sounds of cutlery against the plate as you imagine your head being chopped off like nothing. 

It’s hard to breathe. 

How much longer until you go crazy?

By the time you finish your meal, you’re sweating buckets. You hate it here. You want to go home -

“My Lady, are you alright?” Hana’s voice drags you out from your thoughts, flicking your eyes to meet hers. She’s picking up the silverware and placing it back onto the tray, but quickly takes a clean napkin from it and hands it to you. You take it with shaky hands, doing your best not to drop it. Thankfully your brain didn’t lag for too long for you to realize it was for your sweat.

You pat down your temples with the white cloth.

“T-thank you… v-very much, Ha-Hana.” Why is your voice so shaky? Why are you stuttering? Hell, why are you sweating?

You already had one panic attack - you don’t need another one. Your right thumb throbs at the memory and your teeth want to clamp down on it. The bandages suddenly feel too tight around the digit and you want to rip it off so you could dig your teeth into it. You bite your lip, only worsening the newly formed wound. The taste of your own blood spreads throughout your mouth again. 

You need to stop. 

Your attention switches to Hana, the woman staring at you uncertainly. It wasn’t necessarily out of concern but rather confusion - just how was she supposed to comfort her master? …you’re probably putting her in a rough spot. 

…right. I just need to accept my new reality… but today is not going to be that day.

Taking in a deep breath, you force your nerves to settle down - positive thoughts, positive thoughts. The sun is warm, the birds are lively, the bed is comfortable, your husband is gone - 

This isn’t the first time, and clearly it won’t be the last. 

“...thank you for bringing the food, Hana.” You’re not fully composed, not fully right of mind, but as the saying goes: fake it until you make it. You did it once, you managed to do it throughout the duration of the engagement, during the wedding despite feeling horrible, you did it while consummating your marriage despite being ripped open by Dion, you did it while at the tea party with Maria and Sierra, you did it last night when you told him off.

You did it back then, too. 

Force yourself to smile now. Tilt your head innocently. Act happy. Act happy. 

“I enjoyed it. Please give my thanks to the chief.” Your smile isn’t bright as the sun and slightly wavers. Your eyes aren’t shining brightly like stars, instead seeing past her. Your mind isn’t calm as you recall the brutality of this family that was shown and described in the story. 

Fake it until you make it. 

Yes, you think. Maybe you will have a conversation with Roxana. 

- - -

Hana left an hour ago yet you haven’t moved from your spot. No, instead you’re staring intensely at the presents in front of you on the table. They’re pretty, a bit childish. But knowing Maria… 

“...is it a trap…?” Carefully, you pick up the stereo typical present box and lightly shake it; it rattles. “Sounds a bit heavy… like a box within a box.” Curiosity gets the better of you and you gingerly untie the purple bow before ripping the wrapping paper. Despite the damn thing nearly sending you into another panic episode, it was satisfying to unwrap. 

A slightly smaller box is what you see once you manage to open the outer one. It was black and had a fancy red bow. Still a good size not to be something small. Unless it was a perfume. Breathing in deeply, you undo the ribbon and take off the lid. 

You’re met with a glass container roughly the size of your hand. Your heart drops at the yellow liquid inside. 

It looks exactly like the aphrodisiac your mother-in-law gave Roxana in the manhwa. 

“...what in the actual fuck… she’s basically telling, no, begging me to fuck her son… haha!” Your head rolls back as laughter overtakes you and shoulders violently shake. “I knew she was crazy, but fuck, how morally corrupt is this woman?” 

Instead of throwing it across the room like you should, you place it down on the table. You would have slammed it down if there wasn’t a chance that just smelling it could cause your body to heat up and become needy for a thing - a person - you don’t even want. 

“I’m scared to open up the other ‘present’...” in spite of that you pull at the black bow and unwrap it. You shake it - sounds like something soft. Like clothes. 

Oh. 

Oh no, no, no, no, no no -

“She didn’t. No fucking way… maybe it’s a sweater. Or a shawl. Gloves?” 

Trembling fingers take the lid off, a pink ribbon undone easily. This time, you throw the box to the floor after seeing what it held. 

A sheer black babydoll lingerie set. 

“Maria Agriche… you fucking creep…,” without another thought you shut the lid on it and shoved it into one of your drawers on your side of the dresser. Away from sight, out of mind you chant in your head, slamming the drawer shut. Your cheeks feel warm as both embarrassment and disgust fill your head and chest. 

… even if you wanted to sleep with him… or if you were in a healthy marriage with someone you love…

“...I could never wear that… it’s too revealing, too embarrassing.” Even in your old world you never wore such things. Not because you viewed them as dirty or slutty, but because they don’t suit you. Besides, putting in so much effort just for it to be taken off…?

‘I’m only going to ask once - would you rather keep your clothes on or off?’ 

“MMMMFFFF!!” throwing yourself onto the bed at the memory, scream muffled by the pillow, you mentally curse both son and mother. The son because he made your first time so horrible you’re mentally scarred and the mother because she’s a creep. More so than her own fucking son. 

A few minutes later you manage to collect yourself somewhat. Dreadfully you go to the dresser to pull out the offending clothing. You don’t plan on putting it on or to hold it over your clothes to get a vague idea of it either. Just to get a better look at it. 

Opening it and picking up the article of clothing, you examine it; pretty lace details on the him and breast cups, a flower pattern. It was soft as silk - clearly made from expensive materials. The straps were thin but they didn't feel too rough or stiff. Probably comfortable on the shoulders. 

Not like you would know - you never tried anything like this on. 

Curiosity killing the cat, you decide to see where it ends by holding it over your clothes; it barely brushes past mid thigh. 

When you go to put it back you notice an envelope and panties in the box. First, you pick up the lacy underwear, frowning as you realize that somehow, someway Maria had gotten your fucking measurements. Did your mother also tell the crazed woman your three sizes… “No, she wouldn’t. Even if she was drunk, she wouldn’t tell anyone such private details.” 

Carelessly dropping it into the box you grab the letter, opening it after a moment of hesitation. It takes even longer to unfold the letter. And even longer to actually read it, only for horror to come across your face and enter your heart. 

‘Sierra told me it may come across as inappropriate to send such things to you… but I’m just so excited for grandchildren! Oh, but don’t feel pressured into wearing or drinking those things tonight. The aphrodisiac lasts a rather long time. Besides, considering it’s Dion, I thought you might need some help to get in the mood whenever you decide to lay with him.

- Maria’ 

“No. Never.” 

Shoving everything back in, you shut the drawer close, making sure to hide the items underneath some layers of your… underwear…

You give up. 

“Ahh, why and how did I stumbled into the scene…” You turn around only to notice the yellow liquid contained in the glass bottle. Right. You forgot about that. “Maybe I should just pour it out…”

Not once did you realize nor notice how all the fear and fright left your body and mind, instead leaving caution and annoyance in its wake. 

- - -

Your husband returned at midnight, small amounts of blood splattered on his left cheek. When you look up from your book to greet him you notice that in the candlelight his eye bags seem darker. Deeper. 

“...welcome…back.” Your body starts to quiver and your heart beats loud enough you could hear and feel it once you meet his eyes. Quickly scanning his person you notice he’s wearing the standard male servant uniform: 

black shirt with red rimmed shoulder pads that have the Agriche crest on top, the shirt long enough to reach below his knees and splits at the hips, tied together with a brown belt at the waist. If he were to turn around you would see the family crest proudly engraved into the fabric. Blank pants that disappear into nearly knee-height boots with long, tied laces. 

The last time you’ve seen him in that uniform was the first time you met him, bored expression plastered on his face as Lant introduced him with a smug smile on that disgusting face of his. All he did was shake your hand as you stood still with prayers to a God who held no love for you. With your father glancing your way every minute as you were left in some corner with your then fiance to hold a conversation that never happened. When he didn’t spare so much as a glance at you, instead staring off into space as you couldn’t take your eyes off your lap. 

Wait. 

No. 

Maybe back then, you were too deep in your thoughts to notice that unnerving stare. 

The same one he has now - looking at you as though you were his prey, scarlet eyes glowing in the candlelight, like you belonged to him and he would never change that fact. That he would never let you change it, either. 

“Wife.” 

The word mixed with his sleepy voice sounds like nails on a chalkboard - it makes your ears bleed and eye twitch as you hold back the grimace of how he addresses you. He only wants you because you’re a normal person.

The moment you become insane he’ll let you go. 

That’s the only explanation. It has to be. That’s the only explanation your brain could come up with and accept. 

You’re too scared to bring up the night before yesterday. Beads of sweat slowly roll down your temples and breathing shallow as Dion walks towards the bed, heavy boots echoing. Time stops as your heart drops once he reaches the bed, reaches you and without a single word, he grabs your right wrist and - 

“What happened here?”

Oh. You forgot about your bandaged thumb.  

[patchwork-crow-writes]

Yesterday I wrote this post espousing that all of Ralsei's more "suspicious" or "mysterious" moments can be explained by the fact that he's being dragged around by Deltarune's narrative like a chew toy, in a similar way to how Kris is being dragged around by us players. I used this to explain how he could have gotten to the Cyber World, or why he revealed information about the Roaring at the exact moment he did.

But I didn't have a convincing way to use this to explain why he acts the way he does in the post-Spamton NEO fight. Until now.

For those who need a refresher - after you beat Spamton NEO, Susie stops the party and tried to draw attention to how weird the entire ordeal was. Kris is very clearly shaken and distraught, and we have an option to let them voice that distress. In response, Ralsei tells them not to worry about it, it meant nothing, and to think about nice things instead until they feel better. Which, while this seems like a sweet thing to do on the surface, many people have interpreted this as Ralsei trying to keep everything running smoothly, to downplay all the implications of what Spamton said and was trying to achieve for himself, and in doing so disregarding Kris's mental state and trying to fob them off with hollow platitudes.

Where people have made the mistake, I feel, is that Ralsei is doing this because he's trying to keep this information hidden from Kris, or because he doesn't actually care about their feelings and is only interested in serving the prophecy or the narrative. But actually, I think he probably didn't have much of a choice except to respond in the way he does.

Consider Ralsei's position for a moment. He has waited all by himself in the dark for his entire life, in service of a prophecy and the heroes it speaks of, chained figuratively - and perhaps even literally - to the game's narrative structure. Restore the balance of light and dark, save the world, don't ask questions. He has known no other structure, no other way of being. Perhaps he has privately lamented this fate, perhaps he feels that he is trapped and has no real influence... it makes no difference. He cannot break free of the narrative's yoke.

We can infer that Ralsei knows about the player, because he has conversations with Kris while we're distracted with Susie's antics. He knows that Kris is in a very similar situation to him. I'm willing to bet he also knows that making statements like "I understand what you're going through" or "We'll find a way to fix this" right in front of us, at that exact moment in time, would absolutely NOT help the situation, no matter how comforting Kris might find it.

Because not only does Ralsei not currently have the means to help liberate Kris from their strings - he cannot even liberate HIMSELF right now - and not only would it be even more of a meaningless gesture than a simple offer of cake or hugs as a result - but to draw attention to those strings in the first place would be an extremely dangerous thing to do, because then the players would KNOW that he's working to free them from our influence. And the Narrative would know, too. He cannot afford to draw too much attention to himself or the extent of what he knows at this moment in time. Not yet.

Indeed, perhaps he is banking on players seeing him as suspicious and callous, to draw attention away from the fact that he is actually very much on Kris's side and wants to help them. Remember, he has had at least one opportunity at this point to explain himself to Kris without prying eyes. There's a good chance that they know more than they're letting on, as well.

And this doesn't even take into account that Ralsei may very well be physically unable to say anything else, due to the possibility that the narrative heavily restricts what he can say or do.

Perhaps I am giving the fluffy boy too much credit here, I don't know. But it's fascinating to consider, nonetheless.

[whumpitisthen]

Limbo

Previous I Masterlist I Next

CWs: dissociation/derealisation [whumpee thinking they aren't really alive], mentioned torture, mentioned character death, a candid conversation about death with Death the jolly fellow himself, angel whumpee, deity whumper, religious themes, carewhumper, the poor boy has no idea what's coming the boy is not doing so well :/ if only there was someone who cared :pensive: ( <- actively making him worse)

“Am I dead?”

The angel looks far away, grey, foggy under his skin. He perches on the bed he was provided, in the lavish guest room he was given. It's an emperor-size bed; it makes him look little with his bruised-up legs hanging off the edge.

Sitting at the long dinner table, legs propped up as he leans back in his chair, Grim hums distractedly. — “Hm?”

“Am I dead?” — Auden repeats after a swallow of consideration, this time at least managing to sound like he wasn't just talking to himself.

The Reaper’s lips curl with a slow hum. He forgets about the pen he was twirling — always playing, always busying his hands with something. A pen, a blade, someone's hair. His hand pauses only briefly, then he continues spinning it between his fingers like he never stopped. — “Mm. It feels like that, doesn’t it.”

There is the sound of thunder, far away, but close enough that Auden can hear it rumble. The sound of his Fall. It scares him so much he can barely breathe. His hands dig into the heavenly soft sheets, feeling undeserving. A moment passes.

“Mori,” — he starts quietly, voice breaking, — “they um… I did not mean to, I really didn't, but I asked them how uh, h-how they got,” — he gestures vaguely in the direction of the intimidating double doors leading into the bedroom, — “...here.”

He feels so similar to how he felt on the day Grim brought him home. Weak and hazy, no particular colour to him. Just tired. Shaken, commanding about as much presence as a ghost.

“It was really stupid, I know. It would be insensitive to ask anyone that, right? Especially so out of the blue, like I did. But I did not m-mean it um, literally. I just thought — I thought they were so nice. So kind. They, I, I did not expect anyone here to be nice. Not to me. I-It surprised me.”

They never found out what he really meant. He meant it to be a compliment. They took it as an order. — “That is what I had meant,” — he tells the Mori in his memory, a small murmur, as if they could still hear him, still trying to explain himself.

“They had gone quiet, and I um, I told them they didn't have to t-tell me anything they didn't want to. I felt horrible. But I asked them, so they answered.”

Now Auden is the one going quiet. He doesn't know how to continue, or if he even wants to. His melancholic rambling isn't even fully directed at the Reaper. Grim’s interest has been piqued, however. — “And what did they tell you?”

Auden squirms, frowning. — “Not pleasant things.”

“Is that so,” — muses the deity, expecting this to be the end of the conversation. For a minute it was, but then the angel finds it in himself to continue.

“They told me they came close to dying, many times. They told me they did die, but not literally — that confused me a little, but I’m, uh, I think I am starting to get it.” — Stealing a glance at the Reaper, he sees a bit of humour glint in his vermilion eyes. He must know the story as well as Mori, though, unlike them, he clearly finds the tale a lot more amusing. — “They said they barely remembered who they were before… before you um, saved them.”

The way he is saying all this makes it seem like he has some sort of conundrum he must solve. Like every bit of information Mori had relayed to him is a puzzle piece. However, while it is fun hearing about how Mori remembers their meeting, Grim does not enjoy long roundabout tangents that go on forever. Setting aside the pen, he stretches, swinging those heavy boots off the table, and fixes Auden with a questioning look. — “This is a lovely retelling darling, but is there somewhere you are going with this? Or did you just feel like sharing with me something I already know?”

The thunderstorm flies ever closer. Static ruffles the feathers on Auden's wings. His shoulders hitch higher, hiding him.

“You saved Mori…”

“Mhm.”

“And you saved me, from the, the dragon lady.”

Grim laughs. — “I did.”

“S-So, since Mori was saved by you when they were dying, and I was saved when I was near death, and we both ended up here, here w-with, well, with you…” — he trails off, hesitant to finish his train of thought. It's like he can't even bring himself to say it.

Finally, Grim's expectant gaze forces the words to tumble out of his mouth anyway.

“I was wondering if maybe… I did die.”

The silence is so loud Auden doesn't even dare to look up, afraid that all he would find is a pitying, mocking grin. His guess at the Reaper's expression is not far off.

“Are you asking me?” — Grim asks belatedly. The fanged smile is clear enough in his voice.

“...Nothing really felt real since then,” — Auden finishes vaguely, weakly, eyes stuck to his own shaky hands clasped around each other in his lap. He feels silly, now. Saying it all aloud made it sound like it's either the most obvious or the most stupid assumption in the world. He can't tell which one it is from the Reaper's mood, but shame sears his cheeks nevertheless.

It takes another moment of cruel silence before he is granted a curious reply; — “Where do you suppose you are right now?”

Auden curls up a little more. — “Somewhere between alive and dead.”

Oh, the poor thing is lost, in more ways than just one.

Grim thinks for a minute, leaning his temple onto his fist. The angel's reality has been all but turned upside down, and now his mind is fracturing. Perhaps the shards could be built into something vastly different. His Lord does find moulding minds especially enjoyable, though such a process can be unfathomably delicate. Still, for now, the safest way forward may just be care and patience. The angel is confused enough as it is, and while hilarious, he doesn't want his lamb losing all touch with reality before meeting his new master. He will have a difficult enough time keeping track of what is real under his care anyway.

“Where do angels go when they die?” — he inquires instead, half interested in Auden's answer himself.

“They don't…”

Grim rolls his eyes. Of course. — “Where do Fallen go?”

“To Hell,” — Auden answers promptly, but then thinks further, and finds the answer insufficient. He doesn't really know what happens to Fallen Angels besides ‘eternal damnation’, since that is just a sentence, not reality. He just never thought to think further than that. Because Fallen can die. They do die, swiftly, once they reach here, once demons find them and tear them apart. — “But, but when they die… I am not sure.”

“Would you like to know?” — the Reaper asks with an easy smile.

Auden lifts his head, a little surprised to be offered to be let in on such secrets of life and death. Asking questions rarely lead to straight answers back up in his Heaven. Most of the time, he was met with disdainful expressions and waved off, told that these kinds of matters should not interest him, or, more humiliatingly, that he should already know the answer. Embarrassed, he learned not to ask questions, and only now is he starting to realise how much of his present knowledge is made up of his own assumptions.

To think he would be learning of death from Death himself — and for his silly question to be met with an unexpectedly straightforward desire to answer; no mocking, nor judgement, nor annoyance…

A small glimmer returns to his eyes as he looks to the deity intently. — “Yes please,” — he whispers, amazed, a little reverent.

The Reaper lifts a claw and beckons Auden over. The angel slides off the mattress and begins walking over obediently, only to stop in his tracks all of a sudden, hesitating.

“W-Wait, no, no I don't,” — he stutters, waving his hands out in front of him, seemingly swiftly having changed his mind. — “You don't have to, to show — I'll, I'm sorry…”

Grim is confused for a moment, not understanding the sudden reluctance, his outstretched hand sinking ever so slightly. Then, he chuckles, light as a cloud. He waves his hand dismissively. — “Oh, no, not like that. That did sound somewhat threatening, I will admit. No need to fear; you are a smart boy, you do not need such demonstration.”

Being beckoned to come closer by the Reaper after inquiring about what happens to Fallen when they die — Grim can't exactly fault the angel for hesitating. Nevertheless, with a small bit more encouragement, the nervous dove sulks up to him cautiously in the end, keeping his hands close in front of him.

“Choose one,” — the Reaper says, motioning to the jade porcelain vase filled to the brim with fresh roses set in the middle of the table. Auden saw so many bouquets arranged in large pots lining the hall as he was looking for a way out. He wonders just how much work it takes to keep every one of them filled and replenished in such a massive mansion.

Once he has made his choice — sliding free the flower that least upsets the balance of the rest as he takes it out — he looks to the Reaper. The Reaper picks one for himself and lifts it to his nose.

“When angels die, their souls float towards Heaven.” — He flips the rose downwards, letting it flop on the table. — “When demons die, their souls remain stuck here. And when Fallen die — ”

The radiant red petals are suddenly wilting, growing limp and dark, then dry and ugly in the Reaper's hand. Auden watches the healthy, beautiful flower rot, and then finally completely erode into black ashes, floating in the air like smoke after a wildfire, leaving nothing behind. Some sort of twisted awe leaves his mouth open and raises the hairs on the back of his neck in seeing the effects of Death's touch. Obliteration, destruction, extinction — with just a single touch…

He held that same hand from Miss Thu’lin’s palace all the way here.

“When Fallen die,” — Grim repeats as he rubs the pads of his fingers together to rid them of the flower's remains, — “their souls have nowhere left to go, so they disperse, just like that. Like a warm breath on a cold winter night.”

Auden clutches his own rose close to his chest, far, far from those deadly talons of shadow. — “Do they just… cease to exist? Permanently?”

The angel's wide eyes bring fondness to the Reaper's smile. He asks, instead of answering; — “do you think you exist?”

“...I don't know,” — Auden admits, a hushed whisper.

The fondness remains as he puts his hand out, scaring a flinch out of the angel. Auden goes to carefully place his rose into Death's hand, but he takes hold of Auden's wrist before he could, plucking it from him and returning it to the vase. He holds his hand gently, but firmly, feeling resistance. It's hard to tell the difference between his silver jewellery and icy skin.

“You are alive, my dear,” — assures Grim, making sure Auden hears him, looking directly into his eyes, — “you are here with me, and that should be all the evidence you need that you still exist as, if you didn't, I could never find you again.”

The young angel's lips quiver, his eyes growing misty, but he listens, and tries in earnest to believe those words. His eyes flicker down as the Reaper's thumb runs across the back of his hand. Back and forth, slow and gentle. Auden's face never crumbles fully, his tears silent as they flow.

Death's frigid kiss presses onto his knuckles like a curse, and the angel forgets to pull away.

<3

Masterlist | Ko-fi

Taglist: @whumpsday @whump-me-all-night-long @whumpifi @sordayciega @a-miscellaneous-number-of-rats

Taglist (tagged in everything I write): @morning-star-whump @whumprince @a-living-canvas

[ricochetfuel]

Hi guys so if u live in CT and want to go to an art highschool

don't go to Arts of The Capitol Theater.

Trigger warning for ableism.

There at that school, the principal is a fucking bitch. Now I don't use that term too lightly, but it definitely fits her.

At that school currently, there is a problem involving sexual harassment. This has been brought up to her on multiple occasions, as well as multiple reports have been filed against the harasser by multiple victims.

Sarah, the principal, has done absolutely nothing. She has said that she's talked with the student and his parents as well as other students' parents about the situation, but she NEVER emailed my mother or my boyfriend's mother about anything involving the situation.

So we had to take this small, itty bitty information she gave us at face value and just believe her.

Obviously, I didn't, and MANY students involved with this didn't believe her either. In fact, they were repulsed by this small information.

Me and multiple students took part and organized a sit-in, which is a form of peaceful protest where the protesters sit in a designated place until their needs are met or they were forced to move by authority. Unfortunately, we were suspended for the rest of the day for this protest movement.

This created a large change in students' views of the principal and the academics, so we gained more traction. More people reported their experiences and the reports piled up.

It was on December 19th that I was suspended until further notice alongside my boyfriend and a now ex-friend for creating a disturbance in the academic environment and for bullying.

Originally I wasn't meant to be suspended, however my boyfriend texted me to come to the office because he and the ex-friend were being expelled and/or suspended.

Now I do not run unless I absolutely need to. For context, I was on the basement floor. The office is on the second floor. I am not allowed to use elevators. So when I say I sprinted as fast as I could up 3 flights of stairs into that office to fight tooth and nail for my friends, I mean it. I was up those stairs in 5 seconds and in the office in 8.

I screamed my lungs out at the principal and guidance counselor for not doing their jobs and for condemning the wrong people in this situation so loudly that an alumni walking by heard me and stopped by the door to watch me. I saw admiration in her eyes.

My boyfriend was sobbing hysterically and pounding his head on the table because he was so horrifically deregulated and the guidance counselor didn't do a single thing as a support staff. If anything, she sat there and watched. Her face didn't change a bit from a cold stare.

I was told to leave. I didn't. I would not leave because if they went down fighting for their fucking rights, so would I. I organized the protests and posters and reports. I convinced girls and boys alike who were affected to report the boy who harassed them. I made people feel like there were options.

And so, I was suspended until further notice alongside my boyfriend and ex-friend.

I do not regret it.

Now today my mother had an online meeting with Sarah and the school's board to determine what would happen next involving me and school.

They wanted me to come back tomorrow, and had said that I should have been doing the work from home because I was only suspended for 5 days. That was a lie. Sarah told me I was suspended until further notice and there would have to be a re-entry meeting if I were to come back.

My mother fought for me when I wasn't awake yet for the meeting, which I wasn't even supposed to be there for but my mother let me sit in silence on the floor to listen, and the amount of lies coming from the board was absolutely astounding.

Sarah, Jane, and Nina spouted lies upon lies and blamed my defiance and such on my disabilities.

For reference, I have ODD, otherwise known as oppositional defiant disorder, ADHD, ADD, and others I won't list.

They never took accountability for their actions once during that meeting.

So when I say do NOT go to that school if you can help it, I fucking mean it.

That school is ableist and everything under the sun that a youth would never want to experience in what is supposed to be an educational environment.

Fuck that school.

[aidede-camp]

Oof, I think this is what OP meant about Fiyeraba shippers. You don’t have to be Straight to not get it. The call is coming from inside the house, truly.

I don’t necessarily think OP was being bi-phobic. I think they’re completely justified in feeling like Fiyero was used as a tool to hide Elphaba’s bi-ness. If anything we are just as pissed about the same thing. The musical does try to cover up its original story’s queerness. That’s not a debate. You could have completely focused on the relationship of Elphaba and Galinda while having Fiyero in as well, but being that sort of gateway into a more open relationship status. It still fits in actually showing the queerness of Elphaba being bisexual and doesn’t make Fiyero this sort of presentation of heterosexuality if you will.

I will say that I am proud of the movie for expressing Fiyero’s bisexuality in a way that makes it so utterly obvious, but where the fuck was that same energy for Elphaba? Sure, feel free to interpret Elphaba’s relationship with Galinda as a platonic one if that’s how you feel, but it’s genuinely a shallow way of looking at it, especially considering the many interviews with Gregory Maguire who wrote the queer guidelines for these characters. I don’t think saying that we feel snubbed for erasing Elphaba’s love for her friend is being bi-phobic. We are upset because they cover it with a heterosexual blanket to give straight people the upper leg.

Elphaba is bisexual. Point blank period. And she can be in love with Fiyero. Absolutely. But she is also allowed to be in love with Galinda without the shame of it as well. She’s far likely to be ridiculed for the latter in the society we live in.

I think it’s weird to use, “show me the proof of Elphaba being in love with Galinda in the text” as your proof that she isn’t in love with Galinda. Do we know the same Elphaba? The one who would probably rather die than outwardly show an emotion like that, let alone to someone LIKE Galinda? So, we are just going to ignore the fact that Gregory Maguire openly states that Elphaba is queer? We’re going to ignore that? Just because she doesn’t openly state it, doesn’t mean it’s not true.

We forget the Wicked novel is told in third person limited. This limited and detached narrative perspective and style fit with the book's themes of storytelling, perspective, reputation, and biography. Wicked is not Elphaba's story, told from her point of view. So naturally we wouldn’t get that information!

We have got to stop invalidating others experiences and feelings. Being queer is hard enough as is. We have to try to look through lenses that otherwise wouldn’t fit our typical viewpoints.

I love Fiyero’s character and I love his and Elphaba’s relationship in the book. But that’s because the book was so open about who they truly were and hides nothing. Gregory could care less how comfortable the audience is. We just wish the musical did the same.

P.s.

As an asexual, sexual tension has to have no presence for intimacy and love to be prevalent.

I know we joke about it, about how they cut the scenes between Elphaba and Glinda because they were too gay, about them being played very fruity and shit, but it always rubs me the wrong way that it still is left into this terrain of deniability or uncertainty that the jokes feel bitter sweet now, like they were willing to cut a crucial scene of character development for Glinda and Elphaba that was essential for their relationship in the movie because it was too suggestive on the romantic intentions of it, and regardless of what they say publicly is very obvious why they cut it, so I'm genuinely heartbroken about how Wicked still cowards away from it's queerness, and unfortunately it does make me inevitably lack some sort of respect for it.

Did I love the movie? Yes, but in such a way where I feel bitter about it.

I adore it the same way I do a show, as book Elphaba would say, it is a theatrics, yes and it is a beautiful spectacle, but it is just that, a spectacle, that never fully commits. Don't get me wrong, the musical has its merits, but there's this insatisfaction, this conformity this fear of being more that leaves me feeling unsatisfied when it's over, and not because it's a tragedy, but because it feels shallower than it's book counter part.

Because the book, as much as it also only suggests, it never cowards away from how weird and queer it is and never uses a veil of heterosexuality to cover up Glinda's and Elphaba's unsaid romance, (basically the existence of musical Fiyero), the book suggests Gelphie and let's it linger to become real for those with enough sensibility to comprehend it, enhancing the romance that never flourished, but the musical is just the same cowardice it so blatantly criticizes, and for that it may never actually gain my respect the same way the book has done before.

There's much I could say about how the musical just downright destroys its original material for the sake of making the audience comfortable, without actually being this revolutionary piece of media it calls itself to be, but I am frankly tired. Sadly the movie commits quite a lot of the same mistakes as the musical, and that's why I can't love it like I wish I did, it hurts more knowing the movie had the opportunity to change it yet didn't and I'm not only talking about Gelphie, I'm talking about many other things, Fiyero himself as well, because if you look closer, it seems as though the movie tries to fix it, to rewrite what was once a butchering of the original material, but it never commits, too afraid to diverge, because committing would mean to let the queerness and the uncomfortable topics flourish in the text if ever so lightly, but they can't have that, so the movie is between this very thin line between trying to be faithful to the musical and wanting to improve it, but never achieving either perfectly for it's fear of commitment. I didn't expect it to be a book one on one because it is first and foremost a musical adaptation, but they had a chance to bring what was only subtext into text and they threw it away. I want to hope that in part two they will improve it and I still hold onto said hope because the movie also does a lot of things right, but they cling so desperately to such mediocre romance between Fiyero and Elphaba and such waste of narrative that it is for the three of this characters with Glinda that it's so pathetic, why are they so attached to such mediocre 2000s stereotypical straight love triangle is beyond me, obviously if you read between the lines it is more than that, but it's subtext, like it always has been.

So yeah, as much as I adore the musical now movie as the spectacle of theater it is, it will never gain my respect the same way the book does, it feels like being gaslighted and manipulated just for there to be people who say "what? No you're seeing things".

And it's sad because you'd think we're on a day and age that has the ability to do this, to make what was once buried subtext, text, but it doesn't, and it may never will, but whatever had happened between Glinda and Elphaba was real to me, and real to them in a way beyond their comprehension and their control and time, it was then, what went unsaid that became buried for us who seek.

Also before the movie, there was never this amount of stupid discourse between Gelphie and Fiyeraba shippers, maybe because most of the fandom was a Gelphie shipper because well what we couldn't get from the mainstream we sought in the community, but now that so many straight people are joining in they not only feel threatened by the overwhelmingly queer community, but they actively want to shame it.

And although I do think Fiyeraba is boring, made there too be palatable so the straights don't get mad and shit, and to hide the intense level of tragedy that is Gelphie, I never bothered to mess with the Fiyeraba shippers before or give much though to them because there was no need, but suddenly they feel the need to be so annoying and homophobic and have some gotcha moment because their ship is the one that ends up together and all I can say is ... What a superficial way of viewing the story, because Wicked is a tragedy and that part is in itself a tragedy, but I digress, I don't want to hate on Fiyero it's not even worth it, but people will do anything to hate Glinda, without understanding her character, praise a male character clearly written to be a narrative device for Elphaba more than his own character, a cheap attempt at writing a Glinda that does abide by Elphaba's narrative necessities, then they bring down a queer ship and act self righteous about it while also being discretely homophobic. Like the irony, they feel so self-righteous about it too is ridiculous.

Talking about irony, it's funny because if musical Fiyeraba shippers read the book I might actually say, yeah book Fiyeraba has its merit and I agree Fiyero meant as much to Elphaba as Glinda IN THE BOOK, but they don't even bother reading it. They can't even grasp Glinda's musical complexity I doubt they'd understand the book, but I'm being bitter and pretentious.

Oh and everything they did to Fiyero is a blasphemy, book Fiyero has my appreciation.

This already lasted way too long, but I couldn't stay quiet about it anymore because I had never felt so attacked on what was once a really safe fandom for queer people specially sapphic/queer women

[kindahoping4forever]

📸: Ryan Fleming

[wikipediagf]

Got ready for the day and not even 2 seconds post me being out the door did I get a missed call from my friend and when I answered the first thing she said was “Liam payne’s dead” and I genuinely almost fell over

[voulezloux]

if i had nickel for every time a one direction member did a gender reveal at a concert i went to and revealed the baby to be a girl, i’d have two nickels. which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it happened twice right?

[odegoob]

THE SHIRT SAKA GAVE WILLOCK WASNT HIS OWN IT WAS LEO'S

[oatm3al-c00kies]

✅ doesn’t know how to sit properly in chairs

✅ a cool jacket

✅ The Bisexual Haircut

things are starting to add up…

Me, screaming from the back of a police car: tv joel knows ellie's gay because he grew up with tom-- *the sirens start blaring and you can no longer hear me*

[dollypopup]

"Colin should have grovelled more!" "Penelope folded too easily"

I think statements like this typically come from people who like Penelope. . .but don't really understand her. And don't really understand just why she cares for Colin, and just why him groveling would not in any way bring her peace.

Penelope and Colin are kindred spirits in their loneliness, in season 3 more than any others. Penelope had lost her friendship with Eloise, and Colin didn't really have a close friend circle to begin with. Except with Pen. Pen was the person he could put the mask down for, could open up to, (in particular with their 'dreams' discussion) and that's why he couldn't even entertain the idea of giving up talking to her in Season 2. She is a vital part of his life, and holds so much significance and importance to him.

I imagine that's what made their silence over his travels especially painful for him. They spent such a long time talking after Season 1, and he even informs her that her letters were so encouraging, that it helped him heal something inside of himself. That if she could see him in a gentle way. . .so could he. (And he repays this, because he is honest to god out here acting and looking at her like she hung the moon in the sky). But without her presence in his life, he spiraled. Didn't feel confident in being who he is, and thus put on his persona more firmly. We know this because he wrote in his journal that "I want to be less needy, less insecure, while still maintaining the core of my vulnerability that makes me who I am". That he misses his family, that he misses home.

And we know, from the books, that Home? Home is Penelope. Penelope is his North Star, is his guiding force, and who I argue he feels he needs. In his very first scene, he looks toward her house, tries to find her in the window. When he does not, he returns to his family. In the outdoor gathering, he looks for her and finds her, eager to talk. He states aloud that he misses her, and I imagine he wrote it, too. Not hearing back from her over the course of his travels was surely something that hurt him, but he doesn't hold any ill will toward her for it, only wants to reconnect again. In fact, the one and only time he brings up how he misses her and that she didn't respond, she makes very clear the reason why: she heard what he said and it hurt her. And he's ashamed of it.

Colin hears her call him cruel, and instead of ruffling his feathers about it, instead of getting upset, instead of having a chip on his shoulder as I feel so many men would about it. . .he understands why she does so.

Penelope is a woman who has been largely treated poorly in her society. She feels unheard, she feels undesired, and in her circumstances, and I can't help but ask myself. . .has anyone ever truly apologized to Penelope for hurting her, before? Her mother? Her sisters? Eloise, likely, but. . .anyone else? And the way Colin did? Because of all the characters in the show, Colin? Colin knows how to apologize. He has a lot of practice in it. And very importantly: Colin, a man of privilege in his society, apologizes. . .predominately to women. To Marina, to his mother, and multiple times to Penelope.

Ultimately, Penelope wants to be heard, Penelope wants to be understood, Penelope wants to feel desired.

And Colin checks every single one of those boxes. He informs he is not who he was before, and then he proves it to her. He hears that he hurt her, and he comments on it directly. An entire night apart, and he comes back to her 'Because I embarrass you' with 'I am most certainly not ashamed of you', replies to her 'I am a laughingstock' with 'you are clever, and warm, and I am proud to call you my good friend'. He hears her proclaim her own insecurities, and empathizes so deeply with her. He listens. He understands. He makes clear that he cares for her, and that she *is* desired. 'You lift my spirits' 'I seek you out at every social assembly'. That she helps him see the world in ways he loves, that he sees HER and how much she has cared for HIM, that she makes him feel appreciated, that he appreciates her, in turn.

And then? Then? He shows her. He tells her, and he shows her. His actions all throughout Season 3 reinforce this apology. He continues looking for her in every corner of every ballroom, he continues complimenting her, he laughs at her jokes and respects her boundaries, he is ever so gentle with her, he listens to her with an attentiveness that no one else has ever given her. To Lady Whistledown? Sure. But to Penelope? Who else in the entirety of that ton has listened to Penelope the way Colin has?

Absolutely no one.

Penelope Featherington ghosts Colin Bridgerton for months with no explanation, and Colin comes back wanting to reach out to her, and she finally tells him why.

And he apologizes. Because he listens. Really, truly listens. And really truly cares.

I need you to understand how rare that is, even nowadays, but especially back then. That Colin is the kind of man who can put his hurt to the side and realize he made a mistake, that he said something callous, and he adores her, and he can't lose her, and he has to see her and make it right.

Because that's why Penelope fell for Colin. Not because he's beautiful, not for his charm, not for his family. But for his heart. Because he shows her kindness in a world that so often disregards her. Because he seeks her out and tries to understand her, truly hears what she has to say and compliments her, says he's sorry and looks at things from her perspective.

Because he saw her when she was invisible.

Penelope Featherington, who grew up in a house that made cruel jabs at her, has Colin Bridgerton come to her and say he regrets what he said, and that he was wrong, and that he understands why she's mad at him. Penelope Featherington who has so rarely had much of anyone tell her that they're sorry for what they said about her, sits before Colin Bridgerton as he professes how much she means to him. That he cannot even spend a full day away from her knowing they're on bad terms with each other without making it right. That he sees how she is hurting and he has to in any way he can amend it. She is lonely, with no one really in her corner at the start of season 3, and she feels like she lost it all, and Colin comes to her and says 'no, I'm here and I appreciate you and you are special to me, please let me in and let me prove it'. Is it any wonder why after she shakes his hand, she stands in the sun, and she feels the warmth of it, she can smile? That she can breathe, again? That she can be truly content for the first time in the season?

Because Penelope Featherington does not want Colin to beg. She knows him. She knows the tender, full heart he hides behind the new cavalier persona. She knows the soft underbelly of Colin Bridgerton.

He never had to grovel. All he had to do was love her. Assuredly. Fervently. Loudly. Unapologetically.

And he does.