#ken in general is pain

[drdemonprince]

The Barbie Movie is confused -- and it is confused on purpose, because it can't actually acknowledge the role that capitalism and white supremacy play in the patriarchal system that it wants to give itself credit for acknowledging. And so the film introduces patriarchy as a force with no agent or system behind it.

Ken, an oafish goof is able to find the concept of patriarchy and transmit it to the entirety of his society simply by learning about it and speaking about it to his fellow Kens. There is no use of force, no political organizing (notably, the Kens try to take over the political system after they have already taken hold of the culture), no real persuasion even -- simply by hearing about patriarchy the women in Barbieworld somehow become brainwashed by it.

This means we never have to really see the Kens as genuine antagonists, we can still laugh at their bizarrely crammed-together multiple dance numbers and forgive them when they, like the women, are freed of the patriarchy simply by women speaking about the fact that sexism exists. Both the origins of patriarchy and the solution to it is as simple as an individual person telling their story.

The CEOs that run Mattel in the Real World in the film are similarly cartoonish and devoid of real agency. They're even portrayed as generically interested in the idea of Barbie being inspiring to girls. The movie can't even acknowledge their profit motive, and it can't make any of the men running the company look too powerful or even too morally suspect -- but the film does still want to have Barbie encounter sexism in the real world and grapple with the harm "she" (the consumer product, and not the social forces and human beings that created her) has supposedly done.

In the Barbie Movie, patriarchy is a genie in a bottle, and no one is to blame - except maybe Barbie herself, since the movie spends a significant amount of time discussing how she is responsible for giving women unrealistic beauty standards.

And so Barbie is depicted as both sexism's victim and sexism's fault. She's dropped into a patriarchal world that the film acknowledges has a menacing, condescending quality -- but the film can't even have an underlying working theory of where this danger comes from, and who had the power to create this patriarchy in the first place, because that would require being critical of Mattel and capitalism.

And in the film, ultimately the real world with all its flaws and losses and injustices is still preferable to Barbieworld, because you get to have such depth of feeling and experience and you get a vagina, so how bad could really be? And hey, when you think about it, the Barbieworld is just an inversion of the real world, isn't it? A world with women in power is just reverse sexist, so it was justifiable for the Kens to want to take over, and what does it say that all things being equal Barbie still would prefer to leave behind her matriarchy and join the patriarchal capitalist world? That's the real world. Real world is struggle and sexism and loss and pain and capitalism and death and we must accept all of it but it's worth it..

It's not that I'm surprised the film's a clarion call for personal choice white feminism and consumer capitalism. I just expected the call to be a little more seductive or in any way coherent. I wanted to have frothy fun, and instead I was more horrified by the transparency of its manipulation than I was by even the most unsettling moments in Oppenheimer.

[lumilumimi]

man the Problematic ParentsTM from pjsk are incredibly realistic in that two things are true about their depiction.

1. they have their own trauma, pain, and suffering, that influences the way they raise their children.

and

2. this does not detract from the suffering they then imposed on their children. it is not an excuse, and the MCs are not necessarily required by the narrative to forgive them (though they do seem to, which is understandable since they’re all high schoolers who care deeply about what their parents think of them).

like I think this extends to pretty much all the parents of pjsk. mafumom is probably the example most people automatically think of- she likely has some kind of (potentially very bad) generational trauma. this provides a basis for why she treats mafuyu the way she does. but it isn’t seen (so far) as an excuse- mafuyu running away is depicted as a necessary action in order to preserve herself.

ena’s dad went through incredible struggles as a starving artist. he likely felt extreme shame and anguish as he failed to provide for himself and his wife. but the way he handled this with ena is not necessarily depicted as a good or okay thing- just a thing that has an explanation.

toya’s dad- we don’t know a super lot about him afaik but it’s safe to assume he is a person who is very hard on himself. he strives for perfection in his music and tries to emulate exactly what he thought the composer intended. this behavior likely doesn’t come from nowhere, and has likely been harmful to him. but the way he treated and trained toya is still depicted as toxic and unnecessary.

and this even applies to less ProblematicTM parents like emu’s dad or an’s dad too! when it was revealed that ken had been hiding the truth about nagi from an, an literally was like “I don’t forgive you” and that’s SO POWERFUL! someone can have good intentions and still hurt you, and they still need to be held accountable for that! (and ken did accept responsibility for that- part of what makes him one of the best parents in the game!)

ugh. just… I’m in my twenties and still very much dealing with the repercussions and ripple effects of the way my parents Parented when I was a kid, and seeing the parents depicted very realistically in pjsk is so amazing. like yeah, they’re not cartoon villains being Evil Just Because, but do you have to do what they say? do you have to believe they know what’s best? hell, do you even have to forgive them? no. because regardless of their intentions, or their trauma, they still hurt you. and if they won’t take accountability and try to fix it, they aren’t magically exempt from the consequences of their own actions just by virtue of being a parent.

thank you for coming to my Ted talk

[syxilla]

If requests is still up then - Can you please do a kenji sato x best friend/ extrovert x introvert relationship. Where kenji likes showing off , reader is reserved. And like a balanced relation?!🙏

Kenji x !introverted bestfriend reader

my requests are open dw! actually this is my first ever ask, so idrk how i'll do- but i think i got what u wanted correctly? (pls tell me if im wrong) also, as usual i dont proof read so mind my mistakes! (Ｔ▽Ｔ)

cw: ken sato x gender neutral reader, relatively sfw, introverted reader, (pre-relationship) best friend reader, reader is a pessimist, ken is aggresively kind (kinda)

-bestfriend! kenji who aggresively shakes you while holding your arm. "y/n!" kenji yells excitedly, this made you drop your book, bending its pages. "oh my- what do you want ji?" you grumbled, taking a deep breath to calm yourself down. "you~" he flirted while smirking.

-bestfriend! kenji who gets a flick in the middle of his forehead. "you made me drop my book." who'd rub the spot with a pout playing on his lips. "that hurttt" he whined. "and what do you want me to do about it?" youd query, picking up your book tryying to find the page. "a kiss to make the pain go away?"hed smile.

-bestfriend! kenji who's smile would grow wider once he felt your soft lift press against his head briefly. "thank you!" hed drag out before swinging an arm pver your shoulder to bring you closer. you know, regular friend things.

-bestfriend! kenji who always forces you out of your comfort zone by dragging you to events such as concerts, parades, festivals and most recently the movies. the movies where hed buy everything for you both, eat an absurd amount of snacks you both knew would make his tummy hurt and yet he still did. putting on a mask to not draw any unwanted attention to you both. forcing you to watch horror movies with him that had an excessive amount of blood and nightmare fuel, making you cling onto his arm whenever itd make you jump. not that he minded. of course he wouldnt mind, he never did when it was you.

-bestfriend! kenji who'd rent out the entire theater if you really didnt want to interact with anyone. youd always try to discourag him from doing so, saying he shouldnt spend a lot of money on you, but he always says its fine. he loves to show off his wealth to you, and he also loves to spoil you. buyinng you gifts and practically anything you wanted. just say the word and youll have it. perks of having rich baseball players as a (sadly) best friend.

-bestfriend! kenji who'd drag you into various fancy stores that someone of your working class would have no idea about just so you could rate the things hed grab. "does this shirt look good on me?" hed ask, as if he could look bad in anything. and youd nod, a slight warmness in your cheeks when youd watch him change in and out of each shirt. trying your best to not stare.

-bestfriend! kenji who'd lay his head on yours or on your shoulder after a tiring game. only wanting to sleep. and you didnt mind, just ruffling his hair and enjoying the company of your friend. all while ignoring the little voices in your friend that were desperately trying to change the word friend into something else.

-bestfriend! kenji who promises to always be by your side in larger crowds. tuggling you close enough so that you felt the warmth generating off of his body. you especially liked this warmth during the winter, he was like your own personal fireplce wrapped in a ball of cuteness and a ribbon of sarcasm.

-bestfriend! kenji who you may or may not have feelings for. the same kenji who just asked you out on a date.

(i hope i didnt dissapoint, ty again for submitting an ask, i hope i did u justice!)

[starsinmylatte]

A lil sum about Nanami and an insomniac wife with PTSD-flavored nightmares because I do be struggling atm

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, general graphic content of JJK, depictions of mental illness, etc.

You tossed and turned restlessly between the cool sheets, trying desperately not to wake Kento as he snoozed away beside you. Your husband looked like a perfect snapshot of peace, with his adorable blonde bedhead smushed into the pillow and his lips slightly parted as he snored. He breathed deeply, sleeping away as if no care in the world touched his mind.

Meanwhile, you lay in the dark, completely unable to sleep as your mind churned and roiled like the ocean.

“Stupid. Useless. Lazy.” Your thoughts chanted over and over again. “Going to sleep should be the easiest thing, but you can’t even do that right.”

You rubbed your eyes and groaned silently into your hands. Almost every day was like this, with your overactive mind granting you no peace. Every night, you felt exhausted when you tried to go to bed, but you were rarely able to fall asleep. The conditions could be absolutely perfect, and you’d either stare at the blank ceiling until morning, or you’d get an hour of fitful sleep before a nightmare shook you to your core.

It was unspoken knowledge that every single day, jujutsu sorcerers dealt with things that broke people. They saw pain, sadness, death, and suffering on almost untold levels, but virtually no one in the community spoke out about it. Sorcerers were supposed to be tough, unflappable under pressure, and dependable. Struggling didn’t fit the image required, even if it was behind closed doors, so people bottled it up and shoved it away deep inside themselves. Little things like nightmares weren’t supposed to affect you, even if those nightmares meant constantly reliving the worst moments of your life in graphic detail every time you closed your eyes. Apparently, being a good sorcerer meant suffering and sacrificing yourself in silence.

Suddenly, you felt something warm and wet on your face- a tear. You don’t even remember starting to cry, but there was no stopping it now. You hadn’t cried in months; grief and pain were funny like that. As a matter of fact, you probably hadn’t really cried in over a year, but now tears fell faster than you could mop them up with your sleeves. Your emotions had become dulled by the pain, but they had just shattered, stabbing deep into your soul.

You curled up into yourself, body wracked and twitching with sobs, but it only took a moment for a strong, warm arm to wrap around your waist.

Nanami pulled you against his firm chest, and you instantly felt safe. You could feel the rise and fall of his breathing, the steady rhythm of his heart, his unspoken worry for you palpable as he smoothed your hair.

“‘M sorry, Ken,” you sobbed, “I don’t know why- I didn’t want to wake-“

He shushed you with a low noise and a gentle brush of his hand against your cheek. Nanami rubbed his hands over the skin of your back and shoulders, kneading the tense muscles below as you melted against him, sobbing.

“It’s ok. I’ve got you.” His voice was deep and rough with sleep but full of love as he cared for you. “I've got you, and everything is going to be ok.”

[gay-dorito-dust]

bro a ken x reader where the reader moves to barbieland but she’s got tattoos and he’s got no clue what they are …

The ending to this is absolute arse. Idk what to do.

‘What’s this?’ Ken asked as he gestured to the tattoos you had littered here and there before even more questions followed after. ‘Can they come off? Did someone draw on you like Weird Barbie? If so was it with permanent marker?’ Ken then proceeded to smile, puffing his chest out like a proud bird, ‘I learnt that big word all by myself.’

You chuckled, now realising that ever since you came to BarbieLand there wasn’t a single person in sight who was even remotely as tatted up as you were, and so all of Ken’s random inquiries concerning them made all the more sense. ‘These are called tattoos and no they can’t come off, and I guess you could say that someone ‘drew on me’ but not with a permanent marker pen, but instead a piece of equipment that some might consider a painful process.’ You shrugged. ‘Though that depends on the pain tolerance and the placement of the tattoo.’ The look on Ken’s face was borderline hysterical to you with how wide his eyes became as they trailed over your most recent tattoo as though it’ll jump out and bite him.

‘Did you say painful? Like someone pinching your skin type of painful?’ Ken asked.

‘Hmmm. Think more like being stung a thousand times when in the midst of the outlining of the tattoo, only to then feel like your being scratched repeatedly and all over by a stray cat when they start the shading and or colouring process.’ You told him.

‘So you’re meaning to tell me that you were being hurt!’ Ken cried, retracting his hand away from you as though he was going to cause you more harm, which was something he doesn’t want to have happen. ‘Why would you or anyone ever want to go through that horrible process?!’ He said, voice muffled with his hands clasped over his mouth. You should’ve probably known that Ken would’ve reacted like this but the damage was already done, and yet you couldn’t help but find it sweet when he exemplified concern over your well-being, despite the fact that it was over something as briefly painful as a tattoo.

‘Beauty is pain as they say,’ you began, ‘but I found that once you get your first tattoo, you’ll soon enough want more to add to the collection. Think of it this way, we use tattoos as a way of self expression, some of them can be of something meaningful or something fun and cartoonish and hold no meaning at all other then it looked cool at the time. But I think they quite cool, don’t you Ken?’ The blonde then removed his hands from his mouth, moving himself closer to you as to get a better look at your tattoos in general, just as a smile appeared on his face. ‘They’re so cool.’ He admitted but it was clear he was still a little conflicted about the pain you put yourself through for a tattoo. ‘But they still sound a little frightening.’ He admitted to you with a weak chuckle and you couldn’t do anything but understand and sympathise where he was coming from.

‘Yeah, they can be frightening at first but I promise you Ken, I wasn’t in that much pain for very long, besides I was the one who wanted it done, the tattoo artists were just doing their job.’ You reassured him as you felt his fingers gingerly trace the tattoo, taking in every last detail as he looked at it with a new found perspective. Your tattoos are beautiful to Ken and he’d show appreciation for each and every one by tracing his fingers over it, almost as though he’d ruin the artistry that went into them if he went any harder. He found tattoos fascinating but would probably never get one himself and even if he did, he hoped that this tattoo artist that you talk about could give him a horse portrait, or at least something related to horses at the very least. That would be cool.

[kinkandkreep]

♡︎ 𝐂𝐖: 𝐍𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 '𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝

♡︎ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐮𝐩 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭

♡︎ 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭

ʰᵉʸ ʰᵉʸ ʸ'ᵃˡˡ! ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵃ ᶠᵃⁱʳ ʷᵃʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ʷᵉ ᵈᵉˡᵛᵉ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ᵗʰⁱˢ ᶜʰᵃᵖᵗᵉʳ, ⁱ ᵗᵒᵒᵏ ᵐᵃⁿʸ ᶜʳᵉᵃᵗⁱᵛᵉ ˡⁱᵇᵉʳᵗⁱᵉˢ ʷⁱᵗʰ ⁱᶻᵃⁿᵃ'ˢ ˢᵗᵒʳʸ ˢⁱᵐᵖˡʸ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ⁱ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵃⁿᵒⁿⁱᶜᵃˡ ᶠᵃᶜᵗˢ ᶜᵒⁿᶜᵉʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ ⁱᵗ, ᵈᵘᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵃᶜᵗ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ⁱ'ᵐ ᵃⁿ ᵃⁿⁱᵐᵉ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃˢⁱᵈᵉ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵃ ᶠᵉʷ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵘⁿᵃᵛᵒⁱᵈᵃᵇˡᵉ ˢᵖᵒⁱˡᵉʳˢ, ⁱ ᵃᶜᵗᵘᵃˡˡʸ ᵏⁱⁿᵈᵃ ʷᵃⁿⁿᵃ ᵇᵉ ˢᵘʳᵖʳⁱˢᵉᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ʰⁱᵐ. 🙃 ˢᵒ ʸᵉᵃʰ, ⁱᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵉᵗᵃⁱˡˢ ⁱ ᵍⁱᵛᵉ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃʳᵉ ʷᵃʸ ᵒᶠᶠ, ᵃ.) ⁱ'ᵐ ˢᵒʳʳʸ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵇ.) ᵗʰᵃᵗ'ˢ ʷʰʸ. 😂 ᵃˡʳⁱᵍʰᵗʸ, ʷᵉˡˡ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ᵗʰᵃᵗ, ⁱ ʰᵒᵖᵉ ʸ'ᵃˡˡ ᵉⁿʲᵒʸ! 👋🏾

Mikey hasn’t returned home.

Ken left a little while ago, after you assured him many times that you would be alright on your own and wouldn’t lash out and do anything drastic. 

“Though you’d be well within your rights to,” he’d said, causing a small, strained, albeit genuine smile to curl your lips. 

With a final hug and firm, comforting squeeze of reassurance from the tattooed man, you were finally left alone with your thoughts. Back to the front door, you let your eyes roam around your living area, gaze momentarily catching on each of the photos of you and your husband strategically scattered about the space. 

‘Now, how do I make that son of a bitch pay?’

Deciding to take advantage of the time you have alone before Manjiro presumably returns, you make the decision to do a little redecorating. 

You’re not entirely sure he’ll notice- especially not now, as entranced as he is with that whore of his- but you hope that at least to some degree, the subtle changes will cause a cold, looming shower of dread to trickle over his being. 

You don’t want to be too direct just yet, having decided that this learning process for Manjiro cannot be rushed. No, you’re going to take your time, and maybe even have a little fun. 

It’s strange, you think. How the initial shock and sorrow wore off so quickly, only to leave burning rage and bitterness in its wake. 

Perhaps it’s because subconsciously, you knew all along the truth. Perhaps it’s because deep down, you always knew something like this would happen. 

Despite yourself, you can feel tears threatening to build at the latter thought, and so you quickly push it away. 

You’ve not shed a tear for that piece of shit yet, and you’re not about to start now.

Continuing your journey around your living room, you begin removing certain pictures from their frames, replacing them with others. 

The photo of you and Mikey at the beach when you were a bit younger? Replaced with a photo of you and Ken from that same day. 

The photo of you and Mikey smiling big and bright on his CB250T the day he got it out from the shop following a minor accident? Replaced with one of you and Takashi smiling at each other at his workshop.

You smile fondly as you recall the memory associated with that photo. Takashi had made your wedding dress, and at the time that photo was taken, you’d been discussing the details with him. 

Several other photos are taken down and replaced as well, until you arrive at what is perhaps the most poignant one of them all. 

It’s of you and Manjiro on your wedding day, looking so young and in love, who’d have ever thought that it would ever come to this?

The picture was taken by your friend Shuji from high school. You remember with a chuckle how much of an absolute menace he used to be when you were younger, but it brings you pride, the thought of the respectable young man he’d turned out to be. 

He ran a freelance photography business, and when you’d approached him about being the photographer for your big day, to your surprise, he’d jumped at the opportunity, even offering to do so for free.

You still paid him, generously in fact, your heart warmed by his thoughtfulness. 

It almost pains you to hide that wonderfully taken photo away, but if you’re to make a point, the photo’s got to go. 

It is replaced with one of you and Manjiro's adoptive brother, Izana. 

The picture catches you and him mid laugh at something most likely he’d said, one of your hands gently clutched in his, nails partially painted. Izana holds the nail polish brush in his left hand, his head tilted back as he guffaws. 

You recall that day like it was yesterday, though it’s been quite some time. 

Your friend group had just recently celebrated the grand opening of Izana’s first nail salon in Shibuya. The man was so ecstatic, he practically vibrated with excitement for the entirety of the event.

It was a little unusual, given how collected Izana always was, but you were all extremely happy for him and his success. 

As part of the event, Izana and his team gave out free manicures to the first 10 people who entered the store and inquired about their services, then offering nail services at a discounted price to the next 15. 

You hadn’t expected him to approach you and offer to give you a free manicure, as you were just there to show your support, but with how skilled Izana was, you couldn’t pass up the opportunity. 

As you sat in one of the plush, high-end massage chairs and awaited your service, you studied Izana as he went about tending to some of the other patrons and his staff members before dedicating his full attention to you. 

Izana had a somewhat rocky childhood. He has a Filipino mother and Japanese father. Because of this, he moved back and forth a lot, never quite settling down and stabilizing in any one place. 

Eventually, once he was a little older, he did settle in Japan with his dad following his mother’s death. Growing up, Izana was left to his own devices most times, and this allowed him to get into some less than savory situations. 

Thankfully, he eventually straightened out and found his passion in nail artistry. He painted his nails in his younger years to express himself, finding later that he wanted to help others do the same. 

That led to now, and as you continue to observe your good friend turned brother-in-law, you can’t help but smile at how far he’s come. 

Izana is undoubtedly good looking too, but you’ve never known him to be with anyone. The thought strikes you as a bit strange, but you decide to leave it alone. 

After a bit, he finally makes his way back over to you, apologizing for the delay and laying out his tools. 

You decide to get something simple yet seasonally appropriate. It was the spring time when Izana opened up shop, and if you recall correctly you got a simple olive green nail base with white and yellow daisies painted on top. 

Izana worked thoroughly and efficiently, and the finished product had been so delicate and pretty you’d gone back for that same design before the season was up. 

The two of you chatted throughout the duration of your service that day, laughing and reminiscing. You couldn’t stop gushing about how proud you were of Izana, missing his fond gaze and lightly flushed cheeks. 

Now, in the present moment, you feel yourself smiling widely. Despite the unfortunate circumstance, you felt much lighter after having gazed upon the happy faces of those most important to you.

With the final photo in place, you head into the bathroom, preparing to freshen up before heading to bed. It’s late, and you’re frankly more than a little tired and worn out. 

After completing your routine, you head into the bedroom, switching into pajamas and sliding underneath the covers. 

You’re just about to drift off when you hear a key in the front lock, the hollow sound of the front door opening and footsteps followed by the low creak of it swinging shut. 

It’s Manjiro. 

The footsteps move through the living room, pausing at odd intervals. 

You hope it’s because he’s noticed the photos. 

Eventually, the steps begin making their way upstairs. You notice that they’re slow, even; almost like Manjiro’s trying to be as quiet as possible. 

He stops right outside the shut bedroom door, probably figuring it odd that door is shut in the first place. 

If he’s out and you’ve gone to bed, you typically leave it open in anticipation of him. But this time, you’ve shut it, almost as if you’re passively, subconsciously shutting him out as well. 

The doorknob twists slowly, before stopping entirely. You hear Manjiro make his way to the bathroom, the sound of the switch flicking on and the door starting to shut before it pauses. 

Again, you hope he’s taken notice. 

You removed your wedding ring before you got in the shower, setting it in the most obvious place and neglecting to replace it before you left the room. 

If nothing else, this should cause the greatest alarm for Manjiro. 

You never take your ring off. In fact, up until this point, you hadn’t removed it since the day Manjiro slid it onto your finger. 

It’s silent for many seconds, before you hear the door swing completely shut and water begin to run. 

You’re still tired however, and for as much as you’d like to gauge Manjiro’s expression when he enters the bedroom, you feel your eyes droop and shut, and after some minutes, you’re off to the Land of Nod. 

It’s a shame you don’t stay awake for just a bit longer, because when Manjiro exits the shower room, he has your ring clutched tightly in his hand. 

Carefully making his way over to your sleeping form, he gently coaxes one of your hands out from underneath the covers, slipping the ring back into place before leaning over to place a single kiss on your forehead. 

“I’m sorry, __.” 

ᵃ/ⁿ: 👀 👀 👀 ʷʰᵃᵗ ⁱˢ ᵈⁱˢ ʷᵉ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ʰᵉʳᵉ? ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ ʰᵃˢ ᵇᵉᵍᵘⁿ ʰᵉʳ (ᵗᵒᵏʸᵒ) ʳᵉᵛᵉⁿᵍᵉ(ʳˢ) ᵖˡᵃⁿ. ˢᵒᵘⁿᵈˢ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ˢʰᵉ'ˢ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ˢᶜʳᵉʷ ᵃʳᵒⁿᵈ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵐⁱᵏᵉʸ'ˢ ᵐⁱⁿᵈ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ᵃⁿʸᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵉˡˢᵉ. ⁱ'ᵐ ᵉˣᶜⁱᵗᵉᵈ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ⁱᵗ. 😈 ⁱ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᵃ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ ᵐⁱⁿᵈ ˢᶜʳᵉʷ ⁱⁿ ᶠⁱᶜˢ, ᵉˢᵖᵉᶜⁱᵃˡˡʸ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵉᶜⁱᵉᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᵖᵃʳᵗʸ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ᵈᵉˢᵉʳᵛᵉˢ ⁱᵗ. ˡᵉᵗ ᵐᵉ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʷʰᵃᵗ ʸ'ᵃˡˡ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰⁱˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵗᵒʳʸ'ˢ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ. ˢᵉᵉ ʸ'ᵃˡˡ ˡᵃᵗᵉʳ! 👋🏾

[kazutora-kurokawa]

hello! I was thinking about tokyorev boys (kakucho, rindou, kazutora and mitsuya) they are in love with reader but reader is in love with someone else (some enemy or something painful) (I really like angst)

TokRev x Reader: Unrequited Love

♡ SFW, one-sided love, fem reader, reader is in a relationship with someone else, marriage, alcohol use, jealousy, just angst in general ♡

note: ngl this hurt a little, had a little kick to it fr😭 thanks for requesting anon

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Kakucho

Kakucho had been in love with you for the longest time and he thought you were just so sweet and perfect. But you were in a relationship with Izana, his best friend, the man who was like a brother to him. Of course he couldn't interfere in your relationship, especially since you and Izana seemed so happy together. All he could do was sit on the sidelines and watch as you drifted away, into the arms of someone he'd follow to hell and back.

Rindou

Rindou knew a lot of things, he knew what he loved, he knew what his brother was like, and he knew that you'd eventually get your heart broken. But that never occurred to his surprise. When Ran started seeing you he was prepared to make a lasting commitment, and now here Rindou is, the best man at his brother's wedding. He couldn't do anything but stand idly by and watch as the love of his life slipped out of his grasp and his brother slipped the ring on her finger.

Kazutora

Kazutora had tried his hardest to get rid of his feelings for you, he went on dates, went to parties, tried to numb his pain with alcohol, but nothing ever worked. He didn't mean to fall in love with you, you were Chifuyu's girlfriend after all. Chifuyu was there for him when he got out of prison and he cared deeply about him, but there was just something. Something about the way you looked, the way you smiled, that sweet tone in your voice that drove him up the wall. He couldn't help but love you, but he knew he'd never have you, so he's content just watching you from a distance, knowing that you're happy.

Mitsuya

Mitsuya knew it was wrong, but he couldn't help how he felt. You were in a relationship with Draken, the two of you were happy and madly in love. Yet Mitsuya could never stop himself from getting jealous when he saw you together, the way Ken held your waist and kissed your forehead made him sick to his stomach. Even after he accepted the fact that he'd never have you for himself, he still creates all his designs with you in the forefront of his mind.

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Taglist

@arlerts-angel @i-literally-cant-with-this @trevengersprincess @giugiette @katkusuo @happy-trenchcoated-impala @drunkcheesecake @darkstarlight82 @reiners-milkbiddies

[vampyrial]

A World For Her Alone | Ptolemaea

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15

cw (chapter specific): pregnancy, childbirth, dubcon, death, the aftermath of severe abuse, slavery, derealization (?), the general ennui of noble marriage

pairing: claude x fem!reader

summary: Men! Don't they always think of "the one that got away"?

author's note: Girlfail Barbie and Catholic guilt ken or whatever the kids are saying idk.

When he returned to life again, he was haunted by a fervor to change things. He was a desperate animal caught in a trap, biting his own limb in a bid to escape. He’d languished too long in the inevitable misery that befell him again and again and again. This time, he told himself again, it would be different. He considered readying a horse to come and warn you about this thing that had overtaken him but there were obvious flaws in the plan such as; what if he saw Diana and was besotted again before he had the chance to tell you everything? Even if he succeeded what was he to say to you? What would you be able to do that you had not already attempted? How could you break this hold? What would your knowledge of his predicament mean against something that felt so primordial, something that compelled him to kill you?

What measure could be taken to change this? The last few minutes before he would have to bring himself to truly live this life, he spent at his desk, resigned to writing a missive.

For some reason, this life’s distinctions were more prominent. Firstly, it felt like reality was itself melting, sliding off its center to be remolded around him in the blink of an eye like candle wax. There were times where he forgot that his body wasn’t his own, that he identified with that darkness that puppeteered his body with grotesque ease. Things in that life had an unreal quality to them as if a fever dream he’d soon wake from. The horror of this life was softer, it was brighter, sweeter. He no longer begged for mercy, he only phased into the void that had become him deeper and deeper until he could no longer claim the pain he experienced as his own. He fell in love with Diana again, everything was wrong but he gave himself to the faltering, glitching reality that provided his distraction.

Had he only imagined it or had you become close with your sister in this life? It was unthinkable to him that you would, remembering all the pain she had caused you, still seem to love and look after her. It was a gesture that horrified him, the depths of your magnanimity, your forgiveness were hard for him to handle. Where was the rage you were due? Where was the lady he’d known before? Where had that livid and mournful glint in your eyes, like the silver pommel of the kitchen knife he’d nearly stabbed you with, that had appeared the life after your daughter had been born? Its sudden disappearance was an omen, he was convinced. Now, your eyes were soft as a saint’s, it was a sweet look of righteous suffering. Yours was the look of a martyr.

He was too late to save you, that look told him as much. You were a woman going to into the flame, worn and deprived of her fight; of the vicious urge for retribution. You were the dregs of a woman, bent to the shape of the realities you’d inhabited. Bent partial to Diana. This peace between sisters had come at a cost he would only live to know in your next life. 

You tutored Diana, persistently, pushing her to learn more always. You two spent a great deal at each other’s sides and Claude was aware that even though in previous lives, you’d suffered criticism for not being close enough with your sister; now you were seen as an overbearing older sister pushing her poor, helpless little sister to always do more. He could not really grasp at reality strong enough to muster more outrage at the world which now seemed to be a mindless chorus, for their hypocrisy. Curiously, though, his greater self was pleased at your conduct and ignored the slanderous chatter. The darkness was sated by your concern for your sister and it thanked you by not making efforts to exclude you, he was still flirting with Diana quite openly, to be sure, but it was much less careless. It felt more as if the two of them were not hiding, not rebelliously defying, but expressing themselves easily before you, knowing that your bite had gone soft, your eyes like that of the rest of their world; understanding how important Diana was.

As the date of your wedding approached, something bad was going to happen. He felt it or perhaps he heard it whispered in the static of a reality which was falling down on top of him all the time. It sat in the pit of his stomach, an anxious ache that never soothed, a wound he could feel festering even when the rush of love for Diana flooded his careworn mind. 

Days before your wedding, he was informed that you’d run away. A strange sort of grief did come over him by way of his false heart, his greater self almost seemed to mourn you. To him, and the distinction between his two selves in that moment had never been clearer, it felt as though you’d betrayed him. You’d made him care for you, if only in the slightest and most shallow way possible and then you vanished. You promised to marry him, to make a good wife to him, marchioness to his people and mother to his children. You smiled in his face each time you met and spoke to him with clear affection but you abandoned the future the two of you had painstakingly prepared with years of effort. Like he was nothing. Like the unspoken understanding, the ease that had been built was nothing at all. It disoriented this vast, arrogant creature, it felt to this monstrous part of him like trickery, like deprivation. 

His true self knew that this was not the bad thing he’d anticipated. If it were, the seed of anxiety planted in his mind would have finally given way to the deeper misery he knew was to follow and set him free of his fearful, agonizing waiting. But he was still wound tightly, still waiting for the other shoe to drop. You running away from him was not the bad thing; what fate would make you pay for it, was. He had seen this part before, he knew it ended in blood. So he hoped, at least, you got to run quite far before it did. Before reality closed around its status quo again.

Out of obligation and the longtime investment made from his family to yours, he needed to marry a lady of your house. Since you were gone, it fell to Diana to fulfill this duty. This life, Diana had been educated suitably enough to be a marchioness, for theirs not to be an ill-fated marriage for the territory. Claude realized that this must have been by design, it was your insistent effort that led to her being educated so efficiently. He’d heard talk of you seeming to bully her with how much you pushed her to learn. This was your design. You had always planned to run and leave the two of them to what the fates clearly wanted to happen. Although it was an ache in his chest that you were gone, the more pressing feeling was a forlorn emptiness at the fact that he knew how it would end and he could do nothing to stop it.

On the day he married Diana, it was bright and cloudless, surely indicative of the sort of marriage he was to have with her. Her cheeks were flushed with the enduring surprise of being able to marry him but also with surpassing happiness. But did he only hallucinate a crow flying swiftly across the pale morning sky, casting a shadow on them briefly? He could not know. He retained little of his wedding to Diana. After all, it was a frightening thing, this end. This thing he’d been fighting for so long had caught up to him, it had won, or it would in time. It felt like he was further trapped in a labyrinth where before he could at least the see the sky above, now he was completely hidden in the belly of the beast with no end in sight. Everything was Diana. Everything always would be. 

The defiling of his will and dignity would be ritual, it would dutiful and nightly. It would loving and soft. It would give him the very precious heirs his people counted on him to provide. It would make a mother of Diana, something she had so desperately wanted as he recalled. In time, he was sure to soften to the ordeal, his despair would only be monotonous, dull, unable to rip open any wounds due to the scar tissue of all his lives prior. This was marriage, he kept telling himself. This was marriage. 

Even so, a peculiar thing did happen: Claude had a group of his knights search for you for as long as fiscally reasonable. For two years, he had his knights span out following possible traces of your existence. It was not his own will, his own words that left his mouth but it was so different from everything this thing that puppeteered him had done before. It had showed you sparse concern even when it was in regards to his heir, the thing that should have come before anything. But now, he found that he demanded his knights search for your whereabouts with ease long after your family gave up the pretense. He did so not out of a fervent desire for revenge, the fury of one who had been robbed of something, it was done out of a sort of grief. A sort of desperation to hold to a woman who disappeared into thin air, to reach through the distance and claim the answers you denied.

Claude’s marriage to Diana in the meantime, was not as he imagined the fates would have it be. Of course there was love and affection, of course there was even a constructed desire within him and of course he suffered it inwardly. But there was something that haunted both of them too, a ghost slipped between them always. A ghost who functioned like a scary story for children, whose name being spoken accidentally was just enough to breathe life back into her, just enough to allow her to haunt them. At first, Diana told him that perhaps you had someone you ran away to be with and even his body in the cold hands of his greater self, rejected the notion. He wondered what could ever have given her such an idea, that a woman so meek and truly devoted would have been having an affair. Even that time you left with your knight he didn’t truly believe there was anything between you, it was a desperate measure to escape just like this time. He almost seemed to recoil from her when she spoke of it, it was nothing more than a subtle shift in the air, in his expression but for the first time, Diana seemed to have noticed it even if she did not acknowledge it with words. The message was clear from his expression, the change in tone and the sudden tepidness between them; your escape was to be a sore subject.

It changed the dynamic between them a bit but being married had also done that well enough. Diana was a marchioness who had a certain countenance to keep up, work to do and places to go. She was no longer the vulnerable, tender, helplessly ill girl who begged him to be her reason for continuing on. She now had purpose of her own. None of this displeased his greater self too severely but it did change things between them. No longer were they truly knight and princess. They lived in the real world now as Marquis and Marchioness. It was not like it was with you but it was…changed. A sense of duty settled within her, he got the feeling. She walked with her head higher, her emotions that were once vibrant and expressive on her face were dimmed to a polite mask of a half smile. It was bizarre to see her so grown up.

The ritual degrading practice of lovingly bedding the wife who shouldn’t have been his, seemed to have an odd effect on him this time around. Where before he was able to separate himself, he felt this time he fell deeper into the reality of his situation the longer he was married to Diana. Each time he lay back onto the bed, skin tacky with both their sweat, he was able to physically feel the horror that came with the long line of years that would stretch out between them. Each time he returned to reality enough to feel the result of having just been inside her, he was hit with dread as if time could never dull it. Where before he could only consider the implications of the freshly committed betrayal of you and of his own mind, now he could see a greater picture being painted. This was to be his life from then on, laying back onto his side of the bed with a relieved sigh and cuddling her close speaking of children to be born. While inside, he ceaselessly clawed at the walls, a mad prisoner no longer considering freedom an option, desiring death.

And in those moments, he also thought of you. He thought of where you’d gone. A long time had passed and a long time would pass before you’d see him again. He wondered whether you were living happily somewhere, could it be? Could it really not be that you were somewhere happily living even if just until the blade swinging deftly above your head finally fell? He was the most desperate of men and he imagined it as if a fairytale, a lullaby to take him into a fitful sleep before he would wake and live a life circling around the very tarnishment of both your souls. 

At some point he had slipped somewhere. His manner with Diana, although loving to be sure, was whetted to a slight sharpness. It was a strange nuance that he had only realized after years of marriage passed by with him gone inward to your memory. A chill had come to the marquisate that no fire would warm. It started in a small way, in your name slipping out every so often when he spoke of Diana whilst she was not in his presence. It was forgivable, no one spoke ill. But…it progressed to thoughts of you that were shared with his greater mind. A peculiar thing that shook him free of the derealization that came with this sort of monotony in misery. He realized that his thoughts came in one stream, instead of parallel and distinctive. He realized that above his own heart aching, the one that beat for Diana stung for…for something he had once and now could have no more.

Diana seemed to know. Your ghost was no longer benign, you were an active member of the household. Everyday, at some point as he and Diana spoke, he got the sense that she wanted to broach a topic but couldn’t, out of some fear that even speaking of it would harden it to truth. Some insecurity she desperately wanted him to soothe was instead locked away, tamed in fear that it could only be confirmed. It was as if mentioning you at all was a taboo. Claude parsed the difference between this Diana and the ones who came before when he was about the enter the library but heard voices.

“Madame, is it really okay to leave things like this?,” sounded the voice of one of Diana’s servants. The woman had a habit of forming such inappropriate bonds, the two became friends when Diana entered the marquisate as its new mistress. She would have known such a friendship would be unseemly but even so, it was hard for a woman such as Diana to live as a marchioness, beneath a mask as all noblewomen did, without someone she needn’t bother using it with. Claude had not been able to deny her that much. 

Claude had paused in the hall when he heard the voice of Diana. He knew why he’d done so, for once, his minds were in tentative agreement. He had come there to think, to be alone with your memory. That day was the anniversary of your disappearance and he wanted to ask the definitive question again and again, until he could put it to rest for the next time. Diana could not be there for his mourning, he did not want her there, more than that. His still heart did love Diana very much, such had not changed, but this time, you were not so easily forgotten. A stain on his heart that should not be there…he knew his wife would see it in his demeanor, his brooding expression and no matter how many times she’d tried to ignore the poignance of the date, it always revealed itself to be stark and imposing.

Diana replied to the servant in a rather genuine tone, “He is a wonderful husband. He has done nothing worthy of reproach.”

Something kept him listening, he could not parse what because his greater self was too busy considering the words that had been, were being and would be spoken between the two women. 

“It is…unseemly, for a married man to cling so much to a memory.” The maid sounded as if she wanted to use a word more derogatory than just “unseemly,”

“It cannot be helped,” Diana sighed. “She was his fiancee for much of his life, of course he is still devastated, compared to how long they’ve known each other, the wound is still fresh.”

“Even so, he has you, Madame. Why does he sulk and think of a woman who left him, ran out on him days before their wedding when he has a woman who has loved him faithfully?”

“Don’t ever speak that way, Maude. She is my sister, she is not some random noble you can insult carelessly,” Diana said, with as much sharpness as her voice could carry. “In any case…it is not so simple.”

“Forgive me for speaking out of turn but I fail to understand why it is not simple.”

“It cannot be simple. He is grieving. He and I wed so soon after, before he was able to gather his bearings, even. He may love me more than he ever loved my sister but it is still a loss of something I cannot replace. Who I am as his wife is entwined with that grief as a matter of course, it is simply the star our marriage fell under.”

“Have you ever considered confronting the lord, Madame? Forgive me again for saying so, but I just…after what you found, I don’t believe this is as it seems.”

He could hear the weak smile in Diana’s voice, the suddenly infused lightheartedness. “Oh, I could never do that. Then he’d known I was poking my nose where I shouldn’t have been and even so, I still don’t completely understand what it could mean. Whether a confession or something else, I don’t understand what his intentions were. I…I’m comfortable with never understanding if it means I never have the chance of finding a more unsettling thought beneath.”

“Madame…,” The maid’s voice sounded helpless and full of pity which struck an odd chord within him. A hatefulness unearned, small and weak to be sure but definitely present. At the same time, his heart sunk. He knew all at once exactly what she’d found, what gave her this wariness aside from his small actions. A fractured piece of reality appeared again as if it had never been missing, with the seamlessness of a dream. The letter…it seemed worlds away, it genuinely shocked him to hear what he thought was a reference to it. It hit him as if he’d heard her casually mention she’d been killed a few times over. And there was that pinprick of anger toward her for even knowing about such a thing, from both parts of him for different reasons. For telling her maid and garnering pity that should by rights go to the lost sister whose family had not even looked for her for longer than a month. In his greater self’s mind, for tainting the relief he was capable of feeling when he looked to her even more than it already had been with this. He could not even remember what he’d said but he knew it was something she should not know, it felt so viscerally wrong for her to have read words meant for your eyes. And undoubtedly, though he knew not what words he wrote, he cursed his love her in some manner. 

But he took a deep breath and walked away before she could find him eavesdropping and bring it up to him. Something had….changed, he felt. Irreparably so. There was a certain synchrony between his two selves in a way there had never been before and something between he and Diana had shifted because of it. More noticeably this time, there was distance. 

Diana found that she was pregnant with their first child soon after and there was as much apprehension in him as there was joy. Reality glitched all the time for him during the pregnancy, memories of you, of her, of previous lives intruded on his senses. Something about her being with child frightened him. His vision was often intercut with visions of the past, of your body, slowly seeping blood and still warm while the wails of your daughter fell on deaf ears. He heard Diana’s anguished crying, giving birth to a son who wasn’t certain to live. This foreboding and regret did not extend to his greater self who found other reasons to feel a note of fear at the thought of having a child with Diana. There was a desperation in that part of him, to make things right again, to make them what they’d been before when they were only illicit, courtly lovers. And even still, he knew it would not be. He could pray as much as he liked, he knew that for however loved and wanting this child would be, he would still be reminded of a future he’d lost with you.

Why was he still so concerned about you when you were not the woman he loved? He could not shut the door on your memory not matter how much he wanted to. Was it as Diana said? Was it because he’d known you so longer? He couldn’t think so. It was not like him to be sentimental because of time. Perhaps, he thought, it could be because of how you behaved in the year before you ran away. You treated Diana with a special kindness, you turned a blind eye to the obvious love between them and you ran away just short of your own wedding knowing that she’d…she’d had to marry him in your stead…You had done it on purpose. You had primed her to wed him, you knew what they had and you made it possible by abandoning your whole life. That revelation filled him with some unknown mixture of feelings that he could not stand. It was always to be a thorn in his heart, he would always remember who he owed this life to. And how could he be happy with that as he should be? How could he be happy not knowing why you allowed it to be and where you had gone now? How could you grant such an act of selflessness and disappear? You clearly didn’t want to be found. Why?

The more he thought of you, the more ennui he felt with his life with Diana. Their marriage was haunted by the shadow of your sacrifice. The day his child was born, a daughter, it was a night just like the one where your parents informed him you’d run away. Again his apprehension surpassed his joy when Diana went into labor, he’d paced anxiously outside in the hall listening to her sounds of pain while he looked out the window at the moon which hung in the sky like a being in its own right, watching him apathetically. He tried to get your memory out of his system before his daughter came into the world. He just…he just wished for that moment to be theirs alone. When their daughter was born, healthy and crying loudly from the terrible newness of the world, Diana held her to her chest, crying soft tears of her own at the newness of motherhood. Although his happiness was great, it was edged in something that could not be ignored, something which he felt tainted the moment in some way. He thought again on the night you disappeared and again asked himself where you could be, what you could be doing, did you have children of your own now? Somehow, he hoped you did. It would hurt him badly to know you had children with another man, love or no love between he and you, but he still wanted you to have that much. But that wasn’t the thought that truly cemented the fact that he and Diana would never have a moment that belonged to them again. It was actually the fact that when he first set eyes on his daughter, he looked for your face in hers.

He was glad Diana had been looking down at their daughter at that moment, perhaps if she’d looked up just then, she’d have caught a glimpse of that yearning in his eyes. He cried and thanked her for giving him a child, making him a father and it was genuine gratitude but the tears, the tears were for what was lost and what was left of you which endured. And inside, he dwelled in anguish because what remained of his true self was further broken, disillusioned by the fact that this child that he so pitifully wanted to avoid, had been born. She would live, her name written in his family registry, raised with careful hands and more love than most. She would live well and your child, he one who knew she’d lost you and had the only sensible reaction to it, her name was yet unknown. 

As the years passed, Claude and Diana settled into life as parents. He realized that what Diana expected of him as a father simply didn’t come naturally, he was not an overtly affectionate person in general for anyone but Diana. This did not compute to her, and of course it didn’t, with her having your parents excessive favor and then with the underlying hair thin cracks in their marriage. She required his gestures to be grander, she required more assurance of his love. So, he got more comfortable with it for her sake, he made his affection more theatrical for her, though it felt more like wearing a different mask more than it felt like actually changing who he was. He didn’t exactly know how to be a father, his own wasn’t much of an example, he felt awkward and clumsy with it on his own but he knew how to emulate with the best of them. As was necessary for life as an aristocrat. This had the inadvertent effect of raising his daughter feeling less personal, less of a bond. It felt more like everything else in his life as a nobleman did, false and procedural. And there was the fact that both his selves were reminded of you when they looked at her, inevitably, even if only for a split second each time. One side reminded of what once was and one side reminded of what could have been. 

Luckily, the child was much like her mother and did not comprehend the difference. She was young yet, and still he feared she would not go to him, that she’d cry and fuss in his arms, rejecting him instinctively. Sometimes, Claude felt worried that one day when she was older, she’d look to him for comfort, so he would put forth his best image but she’d see something in him that would tell her how false he was. But it never happened, the child slept easy in his arms and though Diana pouted a bit, she was amused her daughter was a daddy’s girl just as she was. Everything was alright, especially compared to some very frigid noble marriages he’d hear gossip about before. It seemed that the two of them had reached a mutual, unspoken agreement. They’d never talk about what they lacked, they’d take consolation in what they had managed to keep even if it wasn’t what it used to be. 

They went on like that. The time passed quickly, reality seemed to melt, not with hard glitches but the lines blurred together. It got to the point where he felt that the date of your disappearance was not years past but minutes ago. He felt as though he were in the night trailing after you, shouting your name just as much as he felt like an ordinary father with the wife he coveted for so long. His body vibrated with a dull hum and at night when he laid beside Diana to sleep, lights flashed beneath his eyelids as if a candle were lit before him. He would come home and hold his daughter in his arms and still feel as though his breath would come out in a puff from the cold, feel as though something had only just been taken. Every so often the child he held felt foreign to him. He could not even recognize which side of him the feeling belonged to, he was not sure it mattered now. Perhaps this was the real end. Maybe you’d gotten away happily and it was his punishment this time to never feel what he should even when he had what he wanted. He could accept that much, he thought with more peace than he deserved in the delusion. 

Of course it was when he accepted the idea of living without you that he came back. A messenger was sent, hesitant to relay the information that Felix and a few of his comrades had been tracking your whereabouts independently from the orders of your parents. You’d been found, barely alive, trapped in an establishment of very ill repute, worked as a slave. 

This news was enough to devastate and selfishly relieve him. You were alive. You had been worked nearly to death. You were supposed to have lived well enough, perhaps a simple, rustic life as a merchant’s wife with children born of love always at your skirts. “Will she live?” His voice broke. 

The messenger shook his head. “We don’t know, my lord. We only know that the count and countess are receiving her soon.”

Claude almost didn’t bother telling Diana, rushing to find a servant to have a horse prepared so that he could ride there and see you for himself. Until he was met with Diana who entered the room, seeing her family’s sigil on the sleeve of the messenger and he had to tell her. Yes, that was right…It was Diana who’d lost more than he had when you left. Of course it was necessary to tell her first. Somehow, it disappointed him to not be able to see you alone. To know that inevitably, Diana would want to see you and she’d bring along their daughter whom she couldn’t be without. All manner of frenzied feelings were passing through his greater self but prominently, there was a distinct, selfish desire to see you again. A thought that perhaps it would fix everything that has been wrong with him since you ran away. And concurrently ran the sharp anguish of his inner self which had awakened from its comfortable misery. Again in this life, you had suffered for his sake. He could not seem to stop stealing your life again and again and again. What had been done to you? What had you suffered while he raised a child that wasn’t yours? Deprived of your status and kept as a slave; oh, the image his mind had painted from what he knew of such things from his knighthood was a grotesque one. You, who had already been stripped of everything several times over, deprived even of the safety in your noble status. The only thing that made being born to such a family as yours, tied to such a fate as his more bearable, that you’d not be subject to all the cruelties of the world, only the ones he could inflict. 

Diana’s eyes grew large and clouded over as he told her what news had arrived. He stiffened at this, hypocritically suspicious of her concern. He felt a pinprick of annoyance at her, remembering now, the time she’d suggested you’d have been the type to run away with a lover. He felt the briefest urge to shame her, he hoped for a second that she’d remember it too as he had and be ashamed. It faded quickly and it stung but he couldn’t be bothered to scold himself for it. The more important issue at hand was your life. Diana spluttered, “My sister has been found? Where is she now?” She, perhaps not the most dutiful sister, did show at least this much love for you. In her eyes, he could see the resolve to see you again despite a slight troubled look in them. She was ready to go wherever you had. Claude’s careworn, lovesick heart softened some and instead of answering her, he simply called out to a passing servant to ready the carriage, for they were going to the manor of his in-laws right away.

Diana woke up their daughter from her nap and the three of them made their way your parents’ manor where they awaited your return after so many years. Your parents tried to take pains to greet him formally, to reach for their grandchild but he waved them off rudely. “Where is she?”

Your mother flinched, pulling away, embarrassed to have been snubbed so brashly by him. “She’s being brought here by the knights, they’ve not yet arrived but they should return shortly.”

Diana’s brow furrowed at her mother’s disposition. Something about the situation had apparently unsettled her but she said nothing in regards to it. Claude had the urge to tell her, “Look closely at the woman you know to be your mother, does she look worried at all about your sister? Look at your father, too. Does he seem as you imagine we would if we located the dying body of our daughter after she’d been missing nearly a decade?” He wanted her to see them as they were even if it were too late for it to matter. He wanted her to see who favored her, what sort of people loved her, a wretched murderer, a philanderer, a careless woman. He wanted her to wonder what it said about her that she’d be loved by them.

You arrived shortly as your parents probably prayed so that they’d not have to deal with more questions and the suspicious look in their only true daughter’s eyes, the disillusionment. Felix brought you up your old bedroom, he’d gone up to have the servants ready it for your arrival, overseeing their work anxiously to make sure it was made comfortable enough for a woman of an unknown level of severe illness and injury. Diana had wanted to follow him up to help but he’d, gently as he was capable of in such a situation, had her wait downstairs under some thin guise in relation to their daughter. He’d not wanted to be around them then, as the time grew nearer to seeing you again. 

When Felix brought you upstairs, he stood at attention from the corner where he sat anxiously looking about your room. You had large bruises up and down your body, you were filthy with blood caked under your nails and on the side of your head clinging to brittle hair, you were bandaged here and there in haste. He made a small sound of anguish and surprise, for it was one thing to be told you were near death, another thing to see it, smell it, feel it radiate off of your body. You were decaying even as you drew breath. Felix’s gaze lifted to Claude unabashedly hateful for a moment as he realized he was in the room but quickly flickered back down to you. Claude pulled back the covers on the bed for Felix to set you down and called for the doctor in a voice that betrayed a stifled sob. 

The doctor did as he could for you under the somber watch of Claude but even so, you remained unconscious. He didn’t leave your side, praying for you to open your eyes at least, even if just briefly. Even if just to damn him. Even if you were doomed as the doctor seemed to believe. He’d said you were almost certain to die, that it was a matter of making you comfortable, an offense which had gotten him a verbal lashing from Claude even though he knew it was most likely the truth. Diana hesitated to bring their daughter up the room, knowing your body’s fragile condition and the very apparent air of death that surrounded had already frightened her, she came to see you later when she put their daughter down. 

She loomed over your body, trying to find somewhere to touch you, to let you know she was here with you but everywhere was marred and she drew her hand back with a horrified look from seeing you up close, teary eyed. A strange marriage of anger, pity and love did come over him when he saw that. He wanted her to leave him be with you, he wanted to condemn her for even wanting to see you when the reason you were dying was because you made a sacrifice for your sake. But how could he? They were both guilty of the same sin, same measure. Their union was only made possible through their selfish brandishing of their love so how could he turn his back on her so belatedly? How could he deny her for this when he’d been the one to gain the most from their union? For shame or for pride, she was his wife. They were too closely entwined for him to become a hypocrite just now. Though, that hardly meant he wanted to see her healthy, well and with their child while the woman who was deprived of everything lay dying. 

He sent Diana from the room, again under the guise of their daughter, “assuring” her that he’d stay at your side all night. Diana’s expression shifted slightly, revealing a hint of the girl she used to be, unpolished and genuine, unable to help showing all her emotions on her face. She looked…wounded but he must have looked very devastated because when he turned to face her fully, her expression slackened slightly and she did not argue. She only sighed and said, “I hope you won’t make yourself ill doing that. I’ll be in my old room, send for me straight away if you feel tired or unwell at all. I love you.” She said her ‘I love you’ like a plea, like she was near begging for his reassurance again. But Claude was simply not in the frame of mind to be declaring his love her even as it still ruled him. He simply nodded at her and looked back at you. Diana stayed still for a few seconds, he felt her eyes on him, felt that he’d hurt her in his denial. Then, she left the room swiftly.

A day later, his whole body hurt, he had not slept and his mind had gone numb. He could no longer consider very much of the future, he waded through the past. “I wonder…” he began in a tone loud enough to hear through the door. “Are you still out there?”

Felix entered the room. He’d been guarding your door since you returned home. He had not left or giving up the task to another knight for long enough to sleep. He had stood there obstinately without saying a word as if he’d never stopped being your knight. “You called for me, My Lord?” His voice was flat and very hardly concealing a certain amount of disdain.

“You searched for my- for the lady independently, if I understand correctly.”

“Indeed,” Felix answered simply.

“Diana and I owe you our gratitude for doing so, for not giving up on her so easily.”

“Oh, I could not abide you being in debt to me, Lord Claude. All that I did, I did for the lady’s sake alone.” A clear message in that, Claude’s lips almost curled into a bitter smile.

“Very good. You may rest now, the lady is in no further danger.”

“I’m afraid I would hardly be a knight if I were only devoted to looking after her when I felt there were further dangers imminent, My Lord.”

“What is it that you’re concerned about? I am at her side, a knight in my own right. I will not leave her.”

Felix only smiled, a hateful, spiteful smile. “Nor will I, My Lord. I hope you understand.”

Oh, Claude understood. Both the voices inside did, in their own manner. An odd similarity had struck between them, as close as they ever had been to being as one. “Very well,” He sighed, unduly frustrated. “You may return.” He did not even know why he’d desired for Felix to leave so much. Was it that he wanted, even if only once, to be the man who put himself aside for you? Was it that Felix’s very existence condemned his own, with his above dutiful knightly devotion to you contrasting the easy manner in which Claude had been willing to trade you for Diana? He felt guilt when he heard that it was Felix who’d found you, who’d never stopped looking and then an ounce of envy. He knew it was arrogant but if there was nothing else he could do to make up for what had been done, he wanted to be the one who rescued you.

It was a bitter pill to swallow, realizing there was no grand redemption for what had been done just as there was nothing that could ever fill the hole of your absence. He had left you to die as he wed the love of his life and made a very beloved child with her. He had taken your sacrifice into his hands easily and enjoyed a peaceful life because of it without even being able to imagine that you’d never get the same. His obliviousness to how you must have been seeing he and Diana, pushed you into thinking you needed to sacrifice for their sakes or else simply needed to escape a marriage to a man who loved your little sister. You were responsible for all that he had now. And what would he do if you never again opened your eyes? What would he do if you went to your grave thinking you meant so little to him that he’d not even done the smallest thing for you? 

Fortunately, your condition had gotten slightly better by the next evening. You had brief bouts of consciousness after a long stretch of unresponsiveness. You had a fever and the doctor was doing all he could with his remedies to break it but it didn’t seem to be working. There was only so much that could be done with your body in such a condition. There was hardly anything that could be administered to you to rid you of any pain though the doctor mentioned there was a chance you weren’t feeling anything at all for you did not attempt to speak when you woke and slipped quite easily back out of consciousness. A prospect which was morbidly comforting. If you were to die, all the better for you to do so peacefully. But because the chance that you were indeed suffering from the high fever wreaking havoc on your body, he gently laid a cool cloth against your forehead.

Seconds later, your eyes opened, slowly blinking as your lips parted in an attempt to take air into your lungs more easily. He pulled his hand away as soon as he saw your eyes open, as if he’d been caught doing something unseemly. Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you returned to consciousness, your eyes bleary and hollow. You gazed at him as if seeing past him, as if seeing the figments of him that had failed you before. The cowardly part of him that lay hidden behind worthless flesh wanted simply to tell you that…well, he didn’t actually know what he should say if he were given the chance. At one time, he imagined he’d tell you he loved you but what use was his love to you anymore? In every life he had loved and in every life someone bled for it. What comfort could it possibly bring? As much comfort as a curse which grows into you with time. The constance of misfortune and the certainty that it would become both of you, that was his love. 

It hardly mattered what he wanted to say anyway. His was not the voice that left his lips, it was mimicry from a force that had grown oddly similar to him in this life. “I remember the day they told me you’d run away…all this time, I have thought of that day.” He did not flinch at the words that came from his lips, for once; the fever had probably made you too delirious to understand him.

“Every moment I had to myself, I asked why you left. Diana told me you probably had somebody. But somehow I didn’t believe that, to my perspective, you really weren’t like that. So why? Why did you leave and why did I look for you even after…” He paused, finding himself so overly emotional talking to a woman that couldn’t even hear him, who was probably in a waking dream more than in her old bedroom with her old fiancé. He must be a stranger to her now. So why was he pouring out the things he would not even confess to his wife as if you were responsible? As if you could answer to the melancholy he already knew very well the source of. His two selves still had the obvious rift between them even as his greater self morphed more into a pale approximation of what his true self used to be. They were two jagged shards of a vase knocked from your dining table. This unearthly force that had taken him over, which had control over him still, was a creature yet unknown to him. He would do well to remember that much.

“Even now I am denied the reason why.” Even so, he had spent too many lives with the greater voice inside that ran thousands of thoughts through his very being not to feel as though he understood something about it when it spoke through him then. “When I should have rejoiced, when I should have been glad, always, always, it was you, like an ghost in my periphery.”

“Now you’re back and it feels like the end,” He spoke the words prophetically, it was the end. You were dipping back into unconsciousness again.  “This isn’t the way I’m supposed to feel,” He said, tucking your blanket up to your chin, sending you off for what he felt would be the final time. He felt it, he knew it. His chest welled up with that feeling again, the dread he felt the day you’d run away. This time, he wondered what would happen if he stayed here in the version of reality he’d grown accustomed to. Would it free you if he stayed in the version of the world which had what the greater self sought to carry out? If he gave in to a will greater than his own? 

At some point during the night, your fever broke and when it did, he found himself freed. His body delivered back to him at a very strange point this time. Never had there been a moment where you’d been alive that he’d also been able to speak freely. It felt like an anomaly, a shared fever dream or the view of earth from his first life the day before he met Diana. In any case, he didn’t feel very much about his own autonomy being returned to him, time enough to consider it later and the rest of his life to mourn. That morning, all he wanted to do was stay at your side, as himself through and through. He knew you were not on the same earthly plane as he was anymore even if you were not yet dead. You would not hear what he’d say, nor see what he’d do or feel his presence. Even so, he took your hand in his and he spoke.

“I have loved you for each and every one of our lives. I am sorry,” He drew in a breath. “Don’t forgive me. I will always be sorry. I am sorry for whatever this is, this part of myself so sharply cleaved out of me every time that I cannot stop killing you. I know it means nothing but I have never spoken it and I must. If this is not the real end, in our next life, kill me yourself. It must end. It must end with my blood, how long can we– how long can we suffer this way? There must be something, there must be something…” His speech, intended to be cathartic in some way, broke off and descended into inarticulate blubbering, his tears dripping onto your hand. He could speak no more then. Could stand the sound of his voice begging the empty air no longer. 

He stayed at your side until the very end. Until he could no longer feel your pulse, the beats of your heart slow and faint. He could swear he felt the moment of your death as deeply as he felt the reach of this primordial thing that seemed to take more of him than he could have imagined there was with each life.

Next

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[spooky-bunnys]

AHHHH WE NEEEDDDD A PART 6 FOR DRAKENS BROTHER PLEASEEEEE 😭

Draken's Brother Part 6

It took a matter of seconds for (Name) to awake. But the scream he had released made everyone flinch. He started thrashing, but Baji didn't release him.

Draken immediately went to remove Baji, but he was held back. As much as it broke their hearts hearing the pain (Name) was in, they couldn't let him interrupt the marking. If he does there's no telling what would happen.

After a few more seconds the scream finally quieted down. Baji retracted his canines, and pulled away from (Name)'s scent gland. (Name) slowly blinked. His blurry vision starting to clear. He looked around. What happened?

"Keisuke? W-What happened?" Everyone stared cheering loudly. Baji was shoved away by Draken. Who immediately sobbed and held (Name) tightly. "A-ANIKI?!" The poor thing was so confused. "(Name)! Your okay! I'm so happy!"

Okay what the fuck? "Can someone tell me what's going on?!" Draken pulled away, grimacing at the blood that now covered his shirt. "Long story short. You dropped. The doctors couldn't find your Omega. Then the guys who attack you and Kokonoi, who turned out to be an old enemy gang of the 10th generation Black Dragons, tried taking your Omega away."

(Name) stared at his brother. Baji then shoved Draken aside. "They tried poisoning you. But luckily I was given permission from your brother, to mark you. Which brought you back to me." (Name) then fainted. Making everyone freak out again.

But something wasn't right. "Wait. Wouldn't someone come and check him after that scream?" Mikey looked confused. Draken who finally got off the floor nodded. "Yeah. Someone should've been in hear when the scream first started." Takemichi thought about it.

"Wait. If they're on the inside that must mean they were waiting for something like that." The others stared at him. "When (Name) screamed, it was a pain filled scream! They probably think he lost his Omega!" Taiju nodded. "It's true. This is what they were waiting for. They probably think (Name) died. That's why nobody has shown up yet."

Mikey turned an angry look in his eye. "Alright Toman. That means the Bleeding Sirens are probably getting ready to attack us." Draken nodded. "They probably think we'll be too busy mouring to do anything. But (Name) is safe now. Overwhelmed. But safe."

Mikey started directing orders. "We need someone to get (Name) out of here. While we distract them. We need him safe and sound. It has to be someone other then Ken-chin and Baji." The two Alpahs immediately began arguing against the idea.

"I know you two don't want to leave him! You think I do?! But he's both of yours weakness! So when they realize he's missing they'll come straight for you two!" "He's right. They'll also come for Takemichi and I as well, since we were guarding his hospital room." The others nodded.

Takemichi had an idea, he didn't like it, but it had the biggest chance of working. "Wait. What if we send (Name) with Kisaki and Hanma? They wouldn't expect that. They'd think you put him under the 5th divisions protection. Since Mucho is the strongest captain. Kisaki and Hanma would go right over their heads. Since they're the new captains."

Kisaki looked genuinely surprised. He didn't think he'd be a part of the plan. He knew most of Toman didn't like him and Hanma. So the fact that Takemichi volunteered them, actually made him hopeful. Kisaki stood up straight. "Commander where do we take him then?"

"Aniki what about the Gym?" Everyone turned to (Name), who was weakly trying to sit up. Draken quickly helped him sit up. "The gym? Why?" Baji asked confused. "Waka-sensei." That's when it clicked. "Kisaki. I need you and Hanma to take (Name) to the gym ran by the White Leppard. Also know as Wakasa Imaushi. Also Baji for the love of kami-sama, wash my brothers blood off your face!"

Everyone quickly got to work. Draken cleaned and wrapped (Name)'s sent gland. He then let Kisaki and Hanma wrapped (Name) in their Toman jackets. Draken gave them a stern look. "Watch over him. If something happens to him. I swear I will kill you both." The Alpha's nodded and Hanma picked up (Name).

Then they all ran, most of Toman rancing out the front of the hospital, while Kisaki and Hanma went out the backway. While going out they didn't run into any problems. Until they got a few blocks away from the hospital did they have any issues.

"Guys! We're being followed by a few guys." Kisaki turned his head and there was at least 4 guys behind them. Kisaki made a displeased sound. He looked up at (Name). "How far are we from the gym?" (Name) answered with the address then asked Kisaki a question stumped him.

"Tetta-kun, shouldn't we call Waka-sensei so he can be ready for us?" Kisaki face-palmed and Hanma laughed. Kisaki can be quite dumb at times. "Why didn't we do that before we left!" (Name) handed him his phone. "His name is Kitty-Sensei." Hanma grinned widely and laughed.

"What are our names then?" (Name) thought for a moment. "Tetta's name is Smarty-kun and your name is Dumby-kun." That got a laugh out of Kisaki who finally found the contact he was looking for. He looked behind them.

It seemed like they were still being chased, and apparently more have joined them. This isn't good, Kisaki clicked on the contact, putting the phone on speaker. A tired voice answered after a few moments.

"Yo (Name), you don't call often. What's going on?" Kisaki took a deep breath. "Hello. My name is Kisaki Tetta. I'm the third division captain of Toman. I'm on my way with the sixth division captain and (Name)."

"Ha? What for?" (Name) held out his hand and Kisaki hesitated before handing it over. "Waka-sensei! I'm in trouble! An enemy gang is targeting me again. I'll explain more when we get there. But I called because some of the members are followings us."

(Name) took a deep breath and squeezed his eye shut. "Wakasa-sensei I'm scared!" The captains felt their hearts break. (Name) didn't deserve any of this. He's too pure to be caught up in all this.

They heard a growl on the other end. "But the other one on the phone." (Name) handed the phone to Kisaki, hiding his face on Hanma's back. He didn't know what to do. Kisaki took the phone, sharing a distraught look with Hanma as they continued running.

"Yes sir?" "I'll be waiting outside with my friends. When you two get here go through the doors. I need to know, what gang is after you guys?" "The Bleeding Sirens." He heard a scoff. "Of fucking course they'd go for (Name). Shit!"

Silence. "Sir?" "I can see you guys. Hurry it up!" Kisaki looked up. Noticing about 3 men standing outside the building. The blond one was holding a phone. Guess that's him then.

As they got closer they could hear the guys gaining on them. One of them had grabbed a hold of the back of (Name)'s shirt. They yanked him back. Startling the captain and (Name). Kisaki will forever remember, the look of fear he saw on (Name)'s face.

A buff tan man grabbed (Name) and punched the other male. "Kei-sensei!" (Name) cried out in relief. The other two males walked forward. "Which one of you called?" Kisaki bowed. "Kisaki Tetta!" He felt a hand on his head, causing him to flinch.

"Well Kisaki. You did good getting (Name) here." Wakasa nodded at the other captain. "Now are you two staying, or are you going to join your gang?" The captains shared a look. "We'll go back to our gang. The Sirens had surrounded the hospital when we left."

He got a hum in return. "Alright then head back. We got (Name) and these runners. Be safe." The two nodded, turning to (Name). They gave him a short wave and took off back towards the hospital.

A murderous aura surrounded the Sirens present, making most flinch. "Well. Well. Well. Look what the trash brought in. It's been a while hasn't it? Now then," Wakasa glared. Takeomi stepped in front of Benkei.

"Who dares put their hands, on our favorite student?"

If you want to read others. Click HERE

[aloyiouis]

elaborate on the motherhood

regarding motherhood and p3? Sure. I’ll use minato as a name, typing hero for too long gets annoying. general p3 spoilers as we continue.

first, we’ll seperate motherhood into two concepts. childbirth and maternal presence. childbirth is the process of becoming a mother. maternal presence is the aftermath. sometimes both can fit under the word, sometimes only one exists. it’s interchangeable. keep this in mind.

let’s skip to our awakening. to my knowledge, every persona awakening so far has only resulted in one being summoned. this is an unspoken rule of the world, so when minato presses the evoker to his head and calls to orpheus, things seem relatively regular.

until, minato starts to scream.

something is inside orpheus. and it wants out. the embodiment of minatos soul twists and contorts to fit this Thing inside of him. and then, it rips out, tearing orpheus to pieces.

orpheus’s head lurches back in a screaming position as the rebirth of death occurs.

“birth” isn’t just a means of granting life. it weighs heavily on the mother, irreversibly changing her entire body structure. you can never be the same after giving birth, you tear upon a wound that cannot be stitched together. birth is painful and life altering.

but, surely this is ridiculous. childbirth, seriously? there’s something missing here. the child in childbirth? where is the child? that thing is a strange and terrifying monster, where on earth is the-

oh, right. hello pharos. he arrived along with this being. it probably means nothing. they’re totally not the same fucking guy.

afterwards, minato passes out from exhaustion, and takes a long while to recover whilst in the hospital. for minato, carrying death was painful and life altering. since now, he can never be the same.

(this is personal input, but due to the mature appearance of mituru’s persona despite being 8 years old at the time during summoning, i think it was subconsciously filling in the lack of maternal presence. again, personal interpretation.)

moving on. we first meet minato, yukari, mitsuru, junpei and akihiko. minato had a mother, but she was slaughtered in an accident. yukari has a mother, but complications exist between them. mitsuru and junpeis mothers also seem to be out of the picture. i presume they’re dead, but i could be wrong. akihiko’s adopted, and his current ‘mother’ doesn’t seem very relevant in his life. either way, they’re all clearly lacking parental supervision in the dorms.

after speaking to the chairman (the only present adult currently) minato is now part of a group fighting against shadows, referred to as SEES. in other words, you’re a child soldier now. congrats! usually children with more stable support systems and family dynamics would be less vulnerable to such things. maybe if minato had a mother, she should see through the chairman’s lies. maybe he would’ve been protected. but he doesn’t. but he does now have a child that now visits him every full moon. maybe with enough love, pharos could grow to be unlike minato.

we are further introduced to other members of SEES. fuuka. her home-life exists behind closed doors, and she can’t wait to be rid of it. she does not speak of her mother, and that says enough about her. aigis. she was created by scientists. ken, a presumably bastard child with a single mother. he was orphaned after she was killed in an accident. and shinjiro is another orphan. Mother’s Day must be a blast for this mob.

the first death of the series to due to maternal presence. well, more like a lack of it. after shinjiro killed his mother, ken has been left alone. suicidal in primary school. poor thing. he would be happier if she was still here. he devises a plan to avenge her. in the end, shinjiro dies. but he is instead killed by strega.

strega is in a similar boat to SEES. if they had mothers, perhaps they could’ve been spared from this mess. instead they were experimented on, and implanted with beings that destroy them from the inside. hm. sounds familiar.

time passes. shadows of the arcana are defeated as something else grows. tartarus is described as a nest of shadows. it’s like an anthill. but we are yet to the see the mother, the queen. pharos leaves, says he’s remembered what he has to do.

we are then introduced to ryoji.

ryoji. he’s a masculine ladies man. bit odd at times, but well adjusted. sweet thing that seems to be made with pure love. a glaring contrast to the current state of SEES. but let’s not kid ourselves here. we know what ryoji really is. but he doesn’t.

death is a constant throughout the narrative. you can sort it into two categories. the death of a loved one and Death. the Death that Tartarus is built to host, the Death is the part of the moon, the Death that tore apart orpheus, the Death holding the contract. The Death extracted from Nyx.

Death calls himself ryoji mochizuki. and she is the avatar for the maternal being.

Nyx, the planet eater. referred to by feminine terms since a deity that caused creation of humanity and all cognitive beings can’t be masculine. men cant be mothers. according to the scientists, at least.

either way, this Death that has plagued the narrative has a label. and she is introduced as a mother. it’s contradictory combination. so far, hasn’t this discussion surrounded motherhood being the giver of life? but, persona 3 is about living as much as it is about dying. if you to say to live is to die, wouldn’t you say the same about birth? to be born is to die. you come from Her, and you will return to Her.

ryoji wears a scarf. it’s often joked to be random, but i think it’s supposed to look like a nuchal cord. for those unaware, a nuchal cord is when the umbilical cord wraps itself around the babies neck during pregnancy. although rare, it can result in strangulation. i think this is meant represent the only way he can be killed. which is by the being that created him.

the fact ryoji can only be killed by minato speaks for itself. minato had a entity that placed inside him as a child, and that thing will kill everything on this earth. Death ruined his entire life, placed a limit on his lifespan. Death is a parasite that makes him weaker by the day. nonetheless, minato holds no ill will to Death. so he spares him.

the final boss battle. the final cry. we meet ryoji, or what’s become of him. or her. you cant really tell anymore.

one unspoken point ive held though this entire post is pregnancy is a form of body horror. motherhood is a form of body horror. it can still be a beautiful and nurturing thing, but it all falls down to what you make of it. sometimes it is a role you do not want.

ryojis body is contorted and twisted into something barely recognisable. nyx avatar is primarily referred to as a she. although, she still has a flat chest and a deep voice. we see a character that was introduced to us as a child, now be fully ‘grown’ and now called Mother.

the inside the moon, you’re met with a being labelled as pure “Death”

to match the avatars avian appearance, the final fight of this game is between minato and an egg. it’s a perfect final form. i don’t have to explain to you what an egg means at this point, it’s the representation of birth of all life.

i could end it there, with the primordial mother of all life and death herself being presented by an egg. but i still have some things to about minato. as i keep repeatedly stating, by holding death minato was forever changed. and finally by the end of the game, he dies.

and he becomes a massive door at the ends of the universe, with six massive eyes. again, he will never be the same. if he had never created Death, if he had never held Death inside him, he would’ve lived. but in the end, like a loving mother (and The Universe, now protecting the world that nyx created), i don’t think he regrets a thing.

[maria-rayro]

johnshi hc (part one?)

- Johnny likes to call Kenshi Ken, Ken-doll, Ken-boy, Kenny, Babe, Honey, Kitten, Greatest Swordsman (special cases), Sexy (and Sexy Face), Sunshine (especially when he's acting grumpy), Love, Tattoo and some other things, he's just really into pet-names okay, Kenshi thinks about starting making a list now lol

- Kenshi is not really used to pet names, so usually he just calls him "Cage" or "Johnny". Is really shy to use anything else, literally makes him blush to try. In his culture, when you call your loved one by the first name is already kinda intimate, so whenever he wants to emphasize his tenderness towards the man he just calls him Johnny. But secretly likes it when Johnny calls him something cute.

- When Kenshi introduces Johnny to his family, they're both really worried, but at some point Cage starts talking to the older generation of the Takahashi family about the history of their clan, the Sento, and Japanese history in general, and because of this he wins their respect and affection (well, because of this among other things of course; some had seen movies with him, so it was easier with them).

- After that, they have a conversation about Johnny's family, and he reveals that he was never on good terms with his brother or father, and his mom, the only family member dear to him (but who was away at work most of the time), died in service a long time ago. He mentions that he sometimes visits her grave, but he always gets very sad there because it makes him feel his loneliness more strongly. After this conversation, the next time it's time for Johnny to visit his mother's grave, Kenshi goes with him, keeping a hand on his shoulder because he wants him to know that he is not alone now. "You've done a lot, Johnny. She would have been proud of you"; "She would have liked you" Cage replies and feels like crying, immediately laughing because of how stupid it is. Kenshi strokes his back, silently helping him calm down.

- Kenshi has nightmares about his time as a Yakuza; losing his eyes wasn't as mentally traumatizing to him as the time before he decided to leave the Yakuza. Blames himself for all the pain he's caused people. Almost never talks about it, even to Johnny, but does say a couple things once, ending it with something like "Why did you ever think it would be a good idea to date someone like me?" Done a lot of things, including having some problems with alcohol, taking pills to make it easier to deal with the trauma after all the horrors he's inflicted on others or experienced himself. Cage responds by talking about how he got into rehab when he was at the beginning of his career.

- Johnny had an alcoholic father, so after going through a similar experience himself and going through rehab, he matured and began to take these things seriously. He starts drinking less himself to make it easier for Kenshi not to drink at all.

- Johnny has nightmares about Kenshi losing his eyes again or dying. He doesn't wake up screaming, but sweats from the stress of sleep and wakes up abruptly as if he's been doused with cold water. He then checks on Kenshi sleeping next to him, who, since he sleeps quite sensitively, wakes up as well. Seeing Takahashi immediately, frowning adorably, trying to fumble for the man's warm body next to him, Johnny's heart melts. "I'm here, kitten" he says quietly, lying down closer, and Kenshi, sleepily muttering something under his breath, pulls him to himself, taking the role of a big spoon now.

[tala-bez-i]

At first sight Chapter Thirty

(m!reader x Bonten!Haruchiyo Sanzu)

Fluff/slash/reader is male/cursing/BontenTimeline/drugs and alcohol mentioned/violence/blood/death

All characters that appeared in the Tokyo Revengers manga and anime belong to Ken Wakui.

Words: 3529

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“Who the fuck is Yuji L/n?” Hanma asked irritably as he drove the car, while Sanzu sat next to you in the backseat and pressed some cloth that the tall strategist had taken out of the trunk earlier to the wound on your head. 

“He's my older brother.” You replied as calmly as you could. 

"Who? You don't have a brother!" Hanma looked at you using the rearview mirror. 

“Just because I haven't talked about him doesn't mean I don't have one.” 

“Hah, and I thought we knew everything about you when you joined Valhalla.” The man laughed and turned his attention back to driving. “Still bleeding?” 

Sanzu moved the cloth away from your head and you felt his fingers gently part your hair to have a better view. 

“It's just oozing out a little bit.” He replied and sighed. “You could have died, idiot. What were you doing there?" 

“I hope they won't damage my baby.” You ignored Haruchiyo's question again and Hanma smiled broadly. 

"Relax. They will return her to your home safe and sound.” 

“Worry about your condition, not the bike.” Sanzu scolded you. “I will ask one last time and you better answer. What were you doing in the warehouse?” 

"Is it important? The most important thing is that he's alive, Sugiyama is dead, and we know who to look for." Hanma said calmly and you felt the pink-haired man's hand press the cloth to your head a little harder than before. 

You hissed softly in pain and the pressure eased a little. “Yeah, great. Emiko ran away and there will be trouble because of it.” Haruchiyo snorted. “And what's important in general is how Y/n knew where she was being held.” 

“Sometimes boys talk too much. Maybe he heard..." He shrugged. 

“When? He was at my place.” 

Oops... You glanced at Hanma in the mirror, and he shrugged again. 

“Maybe he heard about it earlier and since, as you say, he was at your place…” He chuckled. “If you left him alone, it means our dear Y/n has drunk himself unconscious.” 

“I got a little carried away, I admit it freely.” You tried to joke, but Sanzu snapped his fingers in your ear. “Ouch!” 

“You're about to get hit harder. Why didn't you mention that you knew where she was?” 

“I thought you knew that too…” You shrugged. “Besides, we were both banned from approaching her…” 

“You decided to sneak in there when the guards were down... And Sanzu wasted several hours asking Mikey for permission to attend another interrogation.” Shuji said in a flat tone and you stole a glance at the man sitting next to you. 

"Seriously?" 

“I had permission to ask her a few questions from 5 meters away.” The other growled and Hanma started laughing again. 

"Sorry. I fucked it up.” You said humbly, looking down at your lap. 

"Not completely. You got information out of the guy that Emiko didn't want to tell us... And we will find her quickly. The car had a GPS transmitter...” Hanma explained, stopping the car in an unfamiliar neighborhood and when you got out of the car, you saw a small home clinic. “Come in, the doctor is waiting.” 

Sanzu pushed you forward slightly and as you walked through the door, the smell of sanitizer filled your nostrils. A short woman, whose age you could guess at thirty-something, came out of the room, the door to which had previously been closed, and pursed her thin lips. She frowned at the sight of you and without a word told you to enter the room. 

You sat down on the doctor's couch and Sanzu moved away from you, taking the cloth with him. The woman looked at the fabric and glared at you. 

"Bunch of idiots." She said in a cool tone as she put on disposable gloves and surprisingly gently checked the wound on your head. "You are lucky. There will be no stitches.” 

“He was bleeding profusely…” Sanzu interjected, spreading out the cloth that was almost completely covered in your blood. 

“It's normal for a head wound. From what I understand, it was created during a fight, right?” You nodded slightly and the woman spread her arms. “So, adrenaline pumped the blood, which circulated through the body faster. I don't see anything more than a tiny cut here.” She felt the wound again and smacked. “He doesn't even have a lump. That doesn't mean he can't show up later.” 

She went to the cabinet, took out clean cotton pads and a bottle of wound cleansing fluid, and returned to you. 

“If you experience headaches, migraines, dizziness, etc., go to the hospital immediately. You understand?" She said and as soon as you confirmed, she started cleaning your wound without warning. 

“You could have at least warned…” You grimaced and Hanma smirked. 

“Come on, you're not a little kid.” The doctor grumbled, focusing on thoroughly cleaning the cut skin. “You didn't think about the consequences when you got into a fight, so act like a grown man.” 

You pursed your lips and let her finish. She protected the cleaned wound with some spray and started cleaning the wounds on your face. 

“I see today's fight wasn't the first one this week.” She made a casual comment and for a split second your eyes landed on Sanzu standing against the wall, who only raised one eyebrow. 

“You could put it that way.” 

“If you let yourself get beat up like that, you must be bad at fighting.” Hanma laughed louder at this comment and the woman pointed him to the door. 

“Get out.” She said coldly and the tall man took out a pack of cigarettes and left. “I don't want to see cigarette butts on my sidewalk!” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…” He replied to her, and you heard the sound of the door closing. 

“Do you know him well?” Sanzu asked casually, looking around the room. 

"Unfortunately, yes. I know who you are, and I don't want any trouble, that's why I have an agreement with Hanma. I help you whenever possible and your people do not oppress my family.” 

She finished taking care of your face, pulled a small flashlight from her pocket and shined it in your eyes. You immediately squinted and the woman frowned. 

“Have you taken any drugs in the last few hours?” 

“No. I don't reach for such stimulants. I prefer alcohol.” You answered truthfully. 

"What does it have to do with it?" Sanzu interjected, walking closer to you. “He had a head injury…” 

“Standard question.” She interrupted him and the man looked very dissatisfied. “How much alcohol did you drink?” 

“I think... Almost three bottles of strong alcohol.” You shrugged and cringed when you saw the doctor's face. “I have a fast metabolism. It was yesterday and I'm already sober..." 

“Almost two days ago.” Haruchiyo said, looking somewhere to the side. 

"What?" 

“You slept for almost two days.” 

The woman took off her gloves and threw them into the trash along with the dirty cotton pads. You stared at the pink-haired man in shock, not knowing what question to ask first. He left you completely alone in the apartment for so long! What if there was an accident? 

“Go to rehab.” The doctor said without turning to face you. “If you start losing contact with the world for so many hours, you need to give up alcohol. If this happens again, without using stimulants, go to the doctor. Now get out of my sight." 

Sanzu winced at the tone of her voice and opened his mouth to comment, but you grabbed his arm and led him out of the clinic. 

"Shut up." You muttered close to his ear, and he glared at you. 

“Ready to go?” Hanma asked very calmly, completely ignoring the tension between you and Haruchiyo. “I'll drop you both off at your place, Sanzu. You two will clarify a few things calmly in the privacy of your home, and I will report back to Kisaki.” 

“Mikey is the leader, not Kisaki.” The pink-haired man growled, yanking his arm from your grasp. “We're going to the hideout.” He grabbed the slim, tall strategist by the jacket and pulled him towards him, looking straight into his amused eyes. A provocative smile appeared on Hanma's lips. “That's an order, asshole.” 

“But of course, of course. You are our sweet number 2, how could I object?” 

“I'll show you a sweet one, it's been a long time since you've been punched in the face, right?” 

"Hey!" You separated them, seeing a dangerous glint in Shuji's golden eyes. “I want to get this over with. Sanzu, Hanma, please..." 

“Get in the car.” Haruchiyo growled at you, forcefully pushing the strategist whose back hit the side of the car. 

“What a temperament.” The man laughed, straightening his suit. “How do you put up with it, L/n? Tell me your secret.” 

Sanzu slammed the back door of the car loudly and you shrugged, giving the man with glasses a quick glance. “I'm putting up with this just like you're putting up with Kisaki.” 

“Ah, I see.” The man smiled broadly and opened the driver's door. “They're adorable, aren't they? You can't get bored with them.” 

“Yeah... Something like that.” You got into the car next to the still seething Haruchiyo and fastened your seat belt. 

“Cheer up, Sanzu.” Hanma said cheerfully and you set off from the home clinic. “Mikey will definitely ignore Y/n's antics.” 

“You know very well that the chances of this happening are close to zero.” 

“Are you mad at him?” 

"Yes." The man growled and you looked at him closely. 

“I'm angry too. At you.” You said and the man gave you an angry, icy glare. 

“If you had stayed in the apartment, nothing would have happened.” 

“You know that's bullshit, Haru. They would both run away.” 

“Y/n is right…” 

“They would both run away?!” The man screamed, leaning towards you so suddenly that his seat belt tightened, and you tilted your head back to avoid a collision. “So, what, am I supposed to be grateful to you for letting that bitch get away and rob us?!” 

“Hey, don't fight back there.” The tone of Hanma's voice was warning and you couldn't sense any amusement in it, and that didn't bode well. You had to remember that this wasn't the same Shuji Hanma you knew from Valhalla. “Give him a break. You know he's right." 

Sanzu huffed and moved away from you, his back hitting the backrest. 

“If Mikey thinks that Y/n has gone too far this time, you will just eliminate him, and it will be over...” 

“Liquidation is not an option.” The pink-haired man grumbled, looking out the side window of the car. “Yuji L/n is not hunting Mikey, nor is he out to harm the syndicate. At least now.” 

“Oh?” 

“He wants Y/n.” Sanzu explained. 

“So, I don't see the problem.” Hanma smiled slightly and a shiver ran down your spine. “You can always set him up Y/n and kill two birds with one stone. You'll get rid of Mikey's annoying problem, and this Yuji guy will get his hands on a lovely little brother." 

You didn't like the idea and seeing how the scarred corners of Haruchiyo's mouth twitched upwards, you didn't like the idea even more. 

“What do you think, Y/n?” Shuji asked cheerfully and you looked in his direction. 

“I guess I've lost any privileges…” You replied briefly and out of the corner of your eye, you saw Sanzu turn his head towards you. 

“Yes, I guess so.” Hanma stopped the car on the side of the road and looked at you over his shoulder. “Well? Change? I always wondered if I would ever transport one of my closest colleagues in the trunk..." 

"Don't waste time, Hanma." Haruchiyo commented on this in a dispassionate tone and took a bottle of pills from his pocket. 

When you finally arrived, there were lights on in several windows. You didn't think Sanzu would take any action regarding Emiko behind your back, but then again, you understood him perfectly. You were still just his bodyguard of sorts, and your henchman status hadn't really changed. A friend and lover only in private, and the woman's questioning was work-related. 

Hanma parked his car right next to Kisaki's, which unusually was in an outdoor parking lot rather than a garage, and you all left the vehicle in silence. Except Sanzu was holding your arm tightly, as if to prevent you from escaping... 

“I won't go anywhere.” You murmured loudly enough for only him to hear and his fingers tightened on your bicep. 

"Shut up. Don’t make it harder.” 

“I'm not going to…” 

“You know we might not be able to save you this time, right?” He growled and you looked down, letting him lead you to the entrance of the building. 

“So why did you take me to the clinic? You could have left everything as it was..." 

“Shut the hell up.” 

You were greeted in the hall by Kakucho, whose slightly surprised gaze fell on you. For a moment he looked like he wanted to say something, but he pursed his lips and showed you the way with his outstretched hand. 

“Mikey is waiting.” He spoke briefly and the four of you headed in the indicated direction. 

“What mood is he in?” Haruchiyo asked, his fingers loosening their grip. 

“He's silent, but he eats.” The black-haired man answered briefly and after crossing another corridor, you entered a room with a large armchair on which a slim figure sat comfortably. 

Mochizuki and Akashi stood silently against one wall, and right next to them stood Kisaki, who was watching you with an undefined expression. 

“Mikey…” Sanzu began as he brought you in front of the Bonten leader and forced you to kneel on the cool floor. “L/n broke the restraining order against Emiko.” 

“Thereby discovering the betrayal of one of the guards and preventing the escape of Daisuke Sugiyama, who revealed the name of the leader of their group just before his death.” Shuji Hanma added in a calm tone. 

“Mikey didn't let you speak, Hanma!” Sanzu shouted nervously and there was silence in which you could hear how hard your heart was beating. You were sure others could hear it too. 

“Where is the woman?” The white-haired leader asked as he finished eating the Takoyaki. 

“She escaped by taking one of the syndicate's cars.” Sanzu replied. 

“What condition was she in, Hanma?” 

“Not the best. She could have been in worse shape, but our people were tracking the vehicle. I can assure you that the woman is not able to run far.” The tall strategist replied in a very confident tone and Mikey let out a soft grunt. 

“So, you didn't get there in time to get the information we wanted out of her.” He said, resting his head on one hand. “But Y/n he did it using another source, right?” 

"Yes, that is true." This time it was Haruchiyo who spoke and there was silence again. 

“Mikey, if I may…” Kisaki tried to speak, but he fell silent, and despite pressing your forehead to the floor, you were sure that he did it because of the syndicate leader's glare. 

“If one source dries up, you have to draw from a new one.” Mikey said very calmly and sighed softly. “L/n…” 

You lifted your head to look at your leader and your eyes locked with his bottomless gaze. 

“Is it true what Sanzu said about Yuji L/n? Is the man who damaged Bonten's business your older brother?” 

"Yes. If I may add something..." 

“We are listening.” His white hair fell into his face, but you knew his eyes were still on you. 

“I believe my brother did not intend to harm Bonten. You are not his target, boss.” 

"Why do you think so?" 

You thought for a moment, then nodded. “Otherwise, everyone would know that Yuji L/n is portraying himself as your rival.” 

“And until now we didn't know who to look for. It makes sense." Takeomi muttered and lit a cigarette. 

"Maybe. Keep talking, L/n.” Mikey said, and despite the still tense atmosphere, you sensed no threat from your leader. 

“I'm sure he let Kuroda and the others harm Bonten to separate me from… My…” You couldn't find the right word to describe Sanzu and Mikey raised one eyebrow. 

“Can't you call him your boss while you're in front of me, L/n?” 

“Only you are our boss, Mikey.” You replied a little more quietly and Sanzu shifted from one foot to the other. 

"I see. Continue. Why did he want to separate you from the rest?” 

“Because then I would be an easier target for him.” 

There was silence again, but this time you didn't take your eyes off Mikey. 

“What will you do if you come face to face with him, L/n?” 

Your heartbeat even faster and you felt the blood start to boil in your veins. You took a deep breath, clenched your fists on the floor and, feeling extremely confident, you said out loud what was beginning to arise in your head and heart. 

“It doesn't matter whether Yuji only wanted to get me or not. He allowed his co-conspirators to harm you and all of Bonten. This can only end one way. Yuji L/n’s death.” 

Mikey closed his eyes for a moment and nodded. 

“Get him in order, Sanzu.” He said loud and clear. “This is your last chance, L/n. Kill him or die yourself, but if you manage to win, I will forgive you for the mistakes you have made so far.” 

"I thank you with all my heart." You pressed your forehead back to the cool floor, feeling immense relief. “I won't let you down, boss.” 

You heard the rustle of clothes and soon saw the syndicate leader's feet in front of you. 

“Let it be so. Otherwise, I will personally kill you, Y/n.” Mikey said and moved towards the door. 

As soon as the door closed with a soft click, the atmosphere in the room immediately lightened and a shaky sigh escaped your lips. 

“You must be really lucky, L/n.” Hanma joked, lighting a cigarette as you got up from the floor. 

“And that's damn lucky.” Takeomi smiled and patted you hard on the back. “Try not to give a shit this time.” 

He left the room and Mochi followed him, giving you a short dispassionate look. 

“Hanma, report.” Kisaki growled and both men left the room as well, leaving only you, Sanzu, and Kakucho. 

“Fuck…” The pink-haired man moaned, rubbing his face with both hands. “You're making me go crazy, Y/n.” 

“Are you sure you can do this?” Kakucho asked, ignoring his colleague. 

"I have no choice. It's either me or him." You replied, watching as Haruchiyo swallowed another dose of drugs. 

“But he's your brother…” 

“We have unfinished business. Never mind, Kakucho. It is a long story." You said and the black-haired man nodded. 

“Try to gain strength. Good luck." He left you alone with Haruchiyo, who you shot a cold glance at. 

"What?" He asked, raising one eyebrow. 

“Can I have my keys and phone back, please?” 

The man blinked a few times and pulled your car and house keys from his jacket pocket. “The phone is in the glove compartment.” 

"Thank you." You picked up your things and grabbed his wrist tightly with your other hand. You pulled him closer and looked deep into his eyes. “What was in the water you gave me to drink?” 

"Sleeping pills." He replied calmly, not trying to break free from your embrace. 

"What for? I was drunk enough to not be able to leave the apartment.” 

"I do not think so. You have a fast metabolism.” There was a strange glint in his dilated pupils. “I didn't want you to do something stupid.” 

“I slept for almost two days. How many pills did you give me?” 

“Maybe a bit too much. I only left when you were starting to wake up.” He said and you snorted softly. 

“Don't do that again, Sanzu.” You released his wrist, but the man didn't move away from you. 

On the contrary. You felt his hot breath on your face. 

"Or what? Will you do something to me?” He asked, smiling defiantly and you grabbed his face with one hand, digging your fingers into his cheeks, surprising him. 

“Because I'm actually going to do something stupid.” You said quietly, trying to sound menacing, but you saw a glint of amusement in his bright eyes that you loved to look into, so you let him go. 

Haruchiyo chuckled and placed one of his hands on the back of your neck. “You'll have to try harder if you want to scare me, darling.” He bit his lower lip, trying to suppress a wave of laughter. “I know you love me anyway.” 

Still feeling irritated, you placed a short kiss on his cheek and looked up at his smiling lips. 

“Let's go. I'll take you home.” You said softly and Sanzu laughed loudly, letting you lead him to your car. 

<PREVIOUS/NEXT>

[sleepycricket]

i’ve been thinking a lot about taiga and his parallels to touno, and how it all culminates in light up the fire.

beyond having a similar personality - calm, threatening talents who outshine everyone around them - their lives parallel.

both of them found relative success young. by the time they’d both left high school, they were well known on vivid street. both of them have travelled internationally for their music, and grew in talent in that time.

both of them fought with their peers - taiga with ken, and arata with akito and the rest. they’re both too focused on their dream to share it with anyone else, and view everything as a competition for the top.

both of them lost their best friend, the person closest to them, by cruel twists of fate, cancer and a car accident, two of the most common ways for a person to die. but nagi died while souma survived - and i think taiga might be a little jealous of that.

which all culminates in light up the fire, where taiga tells arata, “you lost souma, and since you can’t deal with that pain, you’re clinging to his dream”.

and if the arata-taiga parallels are to be believed, this is taiga scolding HIMSELF.

because he can’t deal with the pain of losing nagi, he won’t let her dream go. he won’t let the next generation take over; he is becoming world famous himself to show nagi that he can, that they could’ve.

and at once, he’s scolding the parts of ken that he sees in arata. ken, who lost nagi too, who he sees as clinging to her dream of the next generation instead of moving on. the part of nagi’s dream that he despises, that he wants ken to let go of.

[bubblyani]

Breathe Again

(Kendall Roy x Reader)

A Kendall Roy One Shot

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 1.5k+

Summary: After being apart from each other for the first time for a week, you reunite with your lover, who happens to be Kendall Roy. 

Author’s Note: Season 4 is here and I wanted to celebrate with some Kendall Thirsting, cause which Kendall girl isn’t, right? Anyways, Enjoy y’all!

 My Kendall Roy Masterlist

Inhaling. You felt him inhaling you. It’s funny. The pure coincidence of your own air pipes clearing out, at last. After what seemed like eternity. Yes, a mere week did feel like eternity, did it not?

That was the power of longing for you.

His grip on your waist was tight. Iron hand to be specific. His nose and lips were pressed against your neck, on the side, all in unison. A tickle was seemingly the last thing on his mind. So was a  giggle out of you. For this sensation, it traveled deep. This man was basically inhaling your skin, deeper even. That Kendall Roy. He knew how to translate a need. A dire one in fact.

How could you blame him, when the feeling was simply mutual?

His inhales were hungry. Or they were thirsty. As if he longed to satisfy a basic need. Air for instance. Little did he know, you longed for the same: Air. The manner in which he held you with his chest against your back, how his nose brushed along below your right ear, and how he let out an audible exhale. That deep, deep exhale. His voice, oh god! You thought. He was really there with you, and you were in disbelief for a split second. Half closed and fluttering, your eyes drowned in intoxication that even a bright lit room wouldn’t be able to convince them to be shot wide open. Thankfully the Hotel Room Suite was so dimly lit, the New York evening Skyline proved visible through the glass windows. Lazy and slow was your head, turning to face his as you kissed him, hard.

The week is gonna go fast, I promise

Grabbing his hair, you could not help but remember that night when he said those words over drinks. Yeah, of course! Don’t worry about it. I mean, We’re both adults. It’s all peachy. 


That nonchalant answer of yours before sipping on your cosmopolitan rang loud in your memory.

But boy! were you wrong.

Breaking away, Ken’s lips latched on to your neck once more. Those pillowy lips of his were deadly. And he knew how to disarm you with them. Especially when their kisses on your neck were more than generous. As if those lips had amends to make, or grovelling to attend. And in all honesty, you did not care. He was simply there, with you. Once again.

It was rewarding. If only he knew how being deprived of his presence for a week was torturous. All thanks to an out-of-town Waystar Royco business trip. Falling in love with Kendall Roy, caused you to finally understand the actual physical pain of being apart from one’s lover. Which was far from expected. He is a Roy. The rich man. The one who has it all. And you have had your own share of romantic involvements before him. You? Missing him? You even remembered scoffing with amusement by the mere thought of missing him. Yet, when hearts truly intertwine, that was when no amount of money in the world could replace that sense of pain felt being thousand miles apart from the one you longed to be in the arms of almost always. Only then you felt the butterflies of anticipation by the thought of seeing him again, and the sheer heaviness in your heart by the frustration of being deprived of his touch. The one who scoffed, was then tearing up in frustration. Only you knew how stiff you felt, how short your breathing was, how you were like an addict in withdrawal on the inside, despite powering through meetings and lunches during that fatal week. Perhaps that was why you felt more than home at this very moment with him. Perhaps his intensity was what you could relate to.

Satiated was certainly a possibility when Kendall’s right hand slowly dipped inside the waistband of your tight skirt. His fingers were polite, greeting the inner thighs before sliding through the cotton underwear with expertise and familiarity. An involuntary smile reached your face, as you threw your head back. For you knew what was to come. For there he was, embarking on a detailed and teasing journey towards a climactic peak. The familiarity Kendall Roy had with your body was akin to a traveller who need not use a map to explore a city that he had set foot in countless times. Every road, lane and junction perfectly etched in his mind. That was the persona of his fingers down there. The eager traveller. The speed of his breathing changed to the manner in which your body winced to his touch. Tiptoeing around the hood, the gentle discovery and caressing the sensitive spot surrounding it. The stroking, massaging reminded you of someone with their favourite book. One moment one might turn the pages with such reverence and admiration and slow motion to not damage it. While at another moment, one would frantically turn the pages to find that perfect quote or passage or poem to be satiated by. That was his fingers between your thighs. Your knees almost gave in the moment his digits were inserted to your welcoming entrance. Speed varied as they went in and out.

“Fuck, you’re wet” he whispered, marvelling at your cooperation. “I missed you” was all you could answer to that in a hushed moan, “Oh god-” With his other hand exploring the curves of your upper body, you both made the desperate struggle to stumble towards the bed. Entangled, out of control. Discipline and decency had definitely left the Suite.

“Ken, I’m almost close-Ah!” all you needed to say till he quickly proceeded to unbuckle his pants. Unzipping your own skirt, letting it pool on the floor, your body only had energy to land on all fours on the bed. Except, to your delight you were spun around to face him as he hovered over you, watching your mouth part with pleasure when he fully entered you. Barely undressed, there you both were, bodies united and getting into rhythm. To that familiar rhythm that sped up and slowed down. And took it’s sweet time. Foreheads pressed together, swears went out left and right in the forms of moans. “Fuck! Fuck! I really missed you” he growled. “I missed you more” you added, cupping his face, before wrapping both legs around his waist “..every fucking time-Ah!”

And there it was. The peak. The finish line. Fireworks erupting from both bodies as you closed your eyes with pleasure whilst Kendall plopped down beside you with a sigh of relief. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Emerging from the bathroom, you found him |sitting on the edge of the bed. Both now decent once more. That rushed yet passionate encounter few minutes ago, it was needed, it was an essential. It was nothing to regret. Soft smiles were exchanged as your eyes caught his own. Kendall beckoned you to come sit with him. And whilst walking towards him, you finally noticed the luggage by the Suite door. Your eyes widened.

“Wait-” you began, as you sat with him, “Wasn’t that the same bag-” “I left with? Yeah” he answered, looking down with a shy smile, “I figured I stop by here before going to the apartment-Hell!” he chuckled low, “I uh…” he breathed in deep, “I wanted to come here first. To see you” Looking at him, you could feel your eyes soften, and your heart melt. “That’s-that’s really sweet” You said softly, looking down at your own hands, “No-It’s the sweetest thing, Ken. I honestly appreciate that so m-”

You stopped when Kendall held your chin, urging you to look his way for a few seconds. Staring into those eyes of his, those few seconds were heavenly. All before his lips gently caught yours all over again. This time, his kiss was simply tenderness incarnate. It reminded you of young love. The manner in which his lips held on to yours, it embodied tenderness and purity. As if he longed to assure you, all he said was true. And you believed him.

Kendall Roy truly was a man who gave you everything, so much so you would be overwhelmed by warmth and emotion for him. And just like that, there he went, lighting up your fire once again.

“Can I-Can I have you to myself for a little while longer?” You asked, brushing your lips against his in a teasing fashion. Watching you slowly push the jacket off him and loosened that tie, he chuckled. “A little while? Oh I’m not gonna let you check out of here till tomorrow” he teased, allowing you to straddle him. You tried to suppress, but that smile came out eventually. So contagious he smiled right back.

“Good” you said, placing a kiss on his nose, “ I wasn’t planning to anyway”

As the two pairs of hands unbuttoned each other’s shirt and blouse, it was evident why you both felt so calm. As you felt him loosen your ponytail and run his fingers through your locks, you knew why you felt at home again. As the clothing left the bodies and hands began to indulge on each others naked skin, as your lips reunited to dance a much needed longer routine, you were confirmed.

That being in Kendall’s arms once again made you feel like you could actually breathe again.

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My Kendall Roy Masterlist

Tagged: @tammykelly @loveandthings11​ Lemme know if you wanna get tagged.

[ginger-snap-talkin-nonsense]

I deleted the ask because I just woke up and it pissed me off, but holy shit am I fucking sick of hearing people say “The Barbie movie wasn’t even that feminist like oh my god it’s so generic ‘be what you wanna be’” like America Ferrara taking the audience by the shoulders and loudly explaining to them the inherent contradiction in being a woman in society or the general theme of womanhood being complicated and painful but entirely worth the experience no matter how you choose to enjoy it fully realized in the void scene or the Ken subplot being a means to show how the patriarchy severely hurts everyone involved, not just the women, all didn’t fucking matter.

I have no idea what these people wanted out of Barbie but I am long past the point of taking criticism of the movies feminist theme seriously when even the non Ben Shapiros in the audience watched a movie where Margot Robbie absolutely stole the show with a heart wrenching film about what it means to be alive and spent the whole time going “WOW KEN IS THE ONLY THING WORTH TALKING ABOUT HERE IM SO KENOUGH HAHAHA”

Like maybe the blatantly loud and obvious feminist message needs to be at the level it’s at because people still weren’t getting it at that level. Maybe when the amount of people talking about America Ferrera or Margot Robbie in the movie instead of how Ken is “just like them fr” hits the double digits.

I get that your personalities revolve around hating popular things and digging for things to complain about, but kindly piss off with that shit around me, cool cool?

[yandere-wishes]

⋆  ⋆ 𝕐𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕋𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕤//𝔻𝕣𝕒𝕓𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕤 ⋆  ⋆

Yandere drabbles (not fics, but equally as sweet)

Just shorter yandere ideas that me and the anons have come up with. If you're not in the mood to read long format 'x reader' stories then these goodies are perfect for you! Feel free to add/further discuss any ideas you may have regarding these snippets. Full Masterlists Here and Here

💜General

Genie's clothing brand (Melancholy and Pitch)

Yandere x Reader X Platonic!Yandere

Marry Me

If evil why husband?

Why did you start writing Yandere?

The darling with no attention span

Is he mentally unhinged?

They're perfect!!

My favorite Disney prince

My spirit is in the 70's

And now I have become her

My two types

💋💋💋

Just say I love you!!

This one is for the hot girlies

My aesthetic

How I write a resume

Nostalgia

I chose violence

I need more...

I have QUESTIONS

Men...

Fav Authors

Transformers terminology

The sons of sand😍🤩😍🤩

Tanjiro moodboard

Literal "bloodbath"

💜Genshin impact

▹▹General 

Just a dream

▹▹ Wriothesley

Yandere Werewolf Wriothesley

Yandere Werewolf Wriothesley part 2

Wriothesley's cute housewife

Making out with Wriothesley

You're so perfect. You're so scary

Wriothesley's cheerleader

▹▹Neuvillette

Neuvillette and darling at a ball

▹▹Scaramouch

Fluffy Scaramouch

Scaramouche x Ballarina!Reader

💜Barbie

Kens w/ self-harming reader

Kens w/ a Barbie who liked them before

How to love a Ken

Ken w/ a reader who has intrusive thoughts

Ken kidnapping a human

KEN-cerning

Fate

💜Star Wars

▹▹General 

💞Mandalorians💞

Anakin Skywalker and Darth Maul sharing a darling

🥰Head Empty Just Them🥰

An idea (ft. Maul, Anakin and Baby Luke and Leia)

Spoiled sith lords

Domestic life with Darth Maul and Anakin Skywalker

Future Sith lords drabbles

Maul's robotic legs and Grievous' body

A random cheerleader Au (read the comments)

Star Wars Prequel Analysis

Kiss the Mask (Yandere! Sith Lords)

Ancient Sith Lords(Marka Ragnos and Tulak Hord)

▹▹Anakin Skywalker

Anakin falling for his Padawan

Ghostface Anakin

Ghostface! Anakin future ideas

▹▹Darth Maul

Darth Maul taking a Nightsister as his queen

Darth Maul origins

Extracts from Darth Maul's journal

Pain and Pleasure ft. Darth Maul

▹▹Obi Wan Kenobi

"I'm staying with Obi Wan"

▹▹General Grievous

Cyborg lovers unite

The Bride of Grievous

▹▹Boba Fett

Yandere! Boba Fett x reader (Ft. Fennec Shand)

▹▹Clones

Yandere Fives

The clones sharing their lover

▹▹Savage Opress

Yandere!Savage and nightsister darling

▹▹Luke Skywalker

Luke my prince 😍

▹▹Revan

General yandere Revan headcanons

Revan w/ an unwilling and willing darling

▹▹Sol

Sol repressing his emotions

💜Dune

▹▹General

Paul and Feyd being cousins

Feyd my babyboi!!

Chase scene

Emperor Paul Atreides

💜Twisted Wonderland

General

Leona Kingscholar vs Fellow Honest

Dorm Leaders as french expressions

▹▹Fellow Honest

Fellow Honest feeding his darling sweets

Fellow Honest and his Darling (first/initial take)

Fellow Honest buying his darling luxurious gifts

Fellow Honest and his foxy nature

💜Marvel

▹▹ Tony Stark (Ironman)

Do it for HIM!

▹▹ Miles Morales

The prowler and 42!Spidergirl

▹▹Megneto

Megneto my love

💜Important/social commentary

Iranians and the Occupation of Palestine

💜Tokyo Revengers

Bonten!Baji

💜Jujutsu Kaisen

How to get an obsession

💜Honkai Star Rail

Boothill x Housewife!Darling

Never disrupt Boothill's naptime

Yandere!Boothill x Nihility Reader

Yandere!Sunday feeding his darling ice cream

💜Marvel

Yandere! Bucky Barnes moodboard

💜Wuthering waves

Somehow, this blew up🤷🏽‍♀️